#all this to say - poor girl has nothing other than her winter clothes that looks like something she could actually play in.

[sadhours]

simmer down - chapter one

billy hargrove x hagan!oc

read on ao3 • masterlist • requests are open!

a/n: here is the rewrite!!! hope you all like it.

warnings: slow burn, secret crush, oc x steve, angst, underage drinking

word count: 10k

Gina Hagan had things easy. She knew she was pretty, she’d been told so her entire life. And okay, so Hawkin’s was a small midwestern town, maybe the bar was pretty low but she still had smooth sailing because of her looks. Her brother being popular helped. Freshmen year at Hawkin’s High was nothing short of a breeze. It meant a guaranteed spot with the cool crowd. People flocked to her because she was Tommy’s sister and who was his best friend? None other than the King himself, Steve Harrington. Hawkin’s one and only golden boy. His parents were filthy rich, rumors always swirling about their professions but Gina had the close connection to know the truth. His dad came from old money, had a shit ton of real estate across many states but was bred and born right here in quaint little Hawkin’s. He wanted his son to have a similar upbringing so well, they stayed here. However, with Mrs. Harrington’s job, once little Stevie could take care of himself, they were never in Hawkin’s much. Two months of the year, really. July and Christmas. They didn’t like winters in Indiana, so in all honestly it was about a month and a week. Barbara Harrington was a lawyer and a damned good one. Big corporations had her on the payroll and Steve says there’s a lot of schmoozing that comes along with the job. Gina’s met them a handful of times, mostly when she was a kid but they were always kind. She has a distinct memory of clinging to Tommy’s side when the Harrington’s bought them winter jackets.

Gina remembers feeling inferior to the Harrington’s when she was kid. Steve had called them poor a number of times. He’d say his parents were doing their charity when they brought over Christmas presents to the Hagan’s. Barbara told her she’d always wanted a little girl and so each year for Christmas and Gina’s birthday, she’d bring over at least ten gifts for her. Clothes, expensive clothes and shoes. Her mom was hesitant but Gina was excited to wear them to school.

Her parents were as well off. They struggled when her and Tommy were young. However, thanks to Tommy’s insistence on Steve in grade school, James and Barbara Harrington became close with her parents and offered them jobs. Their dad managed one of James’ properties and their mom practically ran Barbara’s headquarters here in Hawkin’s. Their families were close, they celebrated Christmas together. Steve was practically a brother. Except Gina had been harboring a fat crush on him since he was twelve and she was ten. A crush that got obsessive but she’d managed to keep under wraps until she was about fourteen. Damned her and Tommy’s unexpected little sister. Bridgette Hagan was born six years after Gina, a total whoops baby. In fact, their mother was scheduled to get her tubes tied but the doctor cancelled last minute and Bridgette was conceived shortly after. So one night at dinner, Steve was staying over and the spunky eight year old had spilled Gina’s dearly kept secret.

“Gina likes Steve!” she had proclaimed before digging into her mashed potatoes.

Gina about died. Her smattering of freckles disguised behind the redness of her face. It was the most humiliating moment thus far. Tommy had seemed just as embarrassed, telling Bridgette to shut up as Gina stood up and ran to her bedroom. Only for Steve to appear minutes later and tell her everything was alright and he didn’t hate her.

Then, Gina turned fifteen. Her parents threw her a sweet little party. A nice dinner at Enzo’s, the guest list included their five piece family, Steve, a few of her friends and Tommy’s girlfriend, Carol. It was nice, she felt fancy and pretty in her formal black dress. Carol had styled her hair that night, showed her how to do makeup. Gina loved Carol. She was like a big sister. Even if Gina got grossed about her and Tommy, she still felt wonderfully close to Carol. After dinner, they went back to the Hagan’s house for cake and once their parents went to bed, Steve had swirled his keys around his fingers and told Gina and everyone he had an after party waiting at his empty house.

Gina was nervous to drink that night, she’d never really had much alcohol except for sips off beers Tommy had offered. But Steve had mixed her a couple of cocktails, simple ones; vodka and juice. And Gina had never felt more special than that moment, her and Steve Harrington alone in his kitchen as he told her she’d like the drink and then tucked her curly brown hair behind her ear and told her she had the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. He was so wonderfully handsome, big brown eyes and floppy hair.

“Come with me,” Steve had said, “I wanna show you something.”

Gina had followed him up to his pristine room, the one with plaid wallpaper. Steve bought her a pair of earrings. He put them on for her and kissed her. It wasn’t Gina’s first kiss but it might as well have been. The first French kiss she’d had. His tongue felt magical against hers, Gina was sure she’d combust right there on his bed when it’d happened. Never in her life had she’d felt that way from a kiss. Steve ignited every nerve ending, she almost cried when he pulled away and told her how beautiful she was.

Losing your virginity to Steve Harrington was something special, even if she knew of five other girls who’d had the same fate. She didn’t even think about those girls when it happened. Steve had made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. Made her feel like a woman. It was gentle and sweet and everything Gina had wanted. Afterwards, he told her Tommy couldn’t find out and she was on board. She knew he’d be upset, wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize his long-standing friendship with Steve. But after that, Gina was addicted. Infatuated. Steve Harrington was a God that walked among men.

Gina would fill her diary with how handsome and funny Steve was. An entire page was dedicated to her practicing her signature with Steve’s last name. Gina Harrington scrawled out repeatedly in her most practiced cursive. She remembers one time Steve found it, teased her about it until he straddled her on her twin size bed and kissed her dizzy.

They continued sneaking around for almost a whole year. Whenever Steve spent the night, Gina could expect the lanky brunette to creep into her bedroom and make her feel on cloud nine. It was a blissful seven months. That was, until her classmate, Nancy Wheeler caught his attention. The worst part was that Steve never broke up with Gina. Not that they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend but things just abruptly shifted. Steve stopped sneaking into her room when he spent the night, his eyes no longer found hers in a crowded room. But Gina held on. Steve would spend the night and she would lay in bed and wait for what once was. It never came.

Steve dove head first into Nancy. The real kicker was when Gina sat with Tommy, Carol and Nancy’s friend Barb in Steve’s backyard while he added Nancy Wheeler to the notches in his bed post. It was excruciating. She was just as miserable as Barb that night. Perhaps it was a lord opportunity to make a new friend but Gina didn’t want to be friendly with Barb that night. She was a gear in the workings that ruined what was most important to Gina.

Gina withdrew. She’d broke down one night and confessed everything to Carol, who held her close and told her Steve was the biggest asshole in existence. Gina couldn’t find it in herself to agree. Steve had made her feel so special. Carol had formulated all these plans to ruin Steve’s life, break him and Nancy up and make Steve regret ever hurting Gina. It was sweet. Carol was the best big sister, even if she wasn’t really.

It was much easier when Steve had gotten into a fight with Tommy. Her brother never told her exactly happened but Gina knew it was bad because Steve started acting like they didn’t exist. And the boys fought a lot through out the years but nothing like that time. It had to do with Nancy. That much was clear, but Tommy and Carol wouldn’t talk about it. Gina thinks it was because they’d done something horrible. Perhaps because Carol knew how much Steve had hurt Gina and she had to get revenge, even if Gina insisted she didn’t.

Therefore, it’d been a whole summer without Steve. Gina’s first since she was in grade school. It wasn’t that drastically different than the summer before— parties, swimming and lazy days lounged on the couch. Except this one was empty. No brown eyes and floppy, big hair to gaze at. No empty house to relax at. The swimming she’d done had been at the community pool and not the Harrington’s. The parties lacked one exceptional guest. Lazy days were lonely without Steve’s jokes and lingering touches. The boys she’d fooled around with never gave her the same feelings Steve did. Gina didn’t get the tingling in her fingers and toes when any of them kissed her neck. Her thoughts didn’t fizzle out when they went down on her. She’s slept with a handful of them but it wasn’t nearly as exciting as it was with Steve. They didn’t make her feel special. She didn’t want to even look at them whenever it was finished. But she remembered always cuddling with Steve, joking around and the compliments Steve would give her. No one compared. She’d found love and she’d lost it just as quick.

Carol and her grew even closer, but Tommy got upset when she didn’t join in on the shit talking. Gina couldn’t even find the energy to hate Nancy, as much as Carol insisted she should. Nancy wasn’t the problem here, she had no idea what secrets went on between Steve and his best friends little sister. It was pointless to hate her.

Even if Gina was bitter. She’d compare herself to Nancy but would be at a loss. Steve had told her how beautiful she was, how smart she was, how funny she was. Gina hadn’t changed, but Steve had. Steve was the problem here and the quicker Gina accepted that, the better.

;;;

“Hurry up!” Tommy bangs on the bathroom door.

Gina huffs as she grabs the wide tooth comb and rakes it through her tangle of loose chestnut curls. She was about due for another perm but that was a problem for another day. She’d overslept and would have preferred to shower but wouldn’t have the time. She’d washed her armpits and nether regions with a washcloth at the sink, Carol referred to this lovingly as a whores bath. Gina thinks Carol’s really funny and she’s pretty sure Carol thinks so too.

When Gina swings the bathroom door open, her equally as freckled brother pushes past her and shoves her out of the room before slamming the door. Their relationship was an interesting one. They were attached at the hip most their lives, the photos decorating the hallways show a young Tommy holding an infant Gina with adoration in his eyes. Their mom says he was infatuated with her when she was a baby, doting on her and it only started to waver when he started going through puberty. It felt like rejection at first but the older they got, the better they got along. When she started high school, Tommy made sure she sat with him and his friends at lunch. He brought her along to parties and always included her. He wasn’t necessarily protective but if Gina needed, she knew he’d punch in any man’s face who hurt her. Especially Steve Harrington. But that would mean admitting she betrayed her brother by falling in love with his best friend, and she couldn’t do that.

Gina dresses in a white tennis skirt, a striped polo and slouchy socks with her pink Ked’s. She puts on minimal makeup, a bit of rouge and mascara. It’s October, a skirts not the best choice but Gina loves wearing them enough to suffer through a bit of chill. She shoves her arms through a lavender colored zip up hoodie and ties half her hair up with a matching scrunchie. Tommy’s waiting impatiently at the door when she exits her room, mumbling under his breath as he opens the door for them and locks it. He’s always complaining about her being late.

His Toyota is messy, Gina steps on paper bags and cups as she climbs in the front seat. Any comments to clean it would fall on deaf ears. A rebuttal that she could walk her ass to school would be made if she said anything. It was a hand-me-down from their uncle, Tommy’s sixteenth birthday present. She remembers how he grumbled about Steve getting a brand new BMW for his and Gina didn’t complain when she wasn’t gifted a car on her sixteenth birthday. She didn’t have her license anyways. The hundred dollars from her parents was a nice enough gift. She purchased a Walkman and cassettes with it.

They pick up Carol on the way and Gina’s sentenced to the backseat which is even messier than the front. All is well though. She feels good about today. No reason to aside for handing out fliers her and Tina made for a Halloween party. Tina’s parents are going to a party in Indianapolis so it’s the perfect opportunity. They’d planned it as soon as they found out the girls’ house would be empty for the holiday. Gina liked planning parties, though it wasn’t much planning. The kids coming would bring the booze and they didn’t exactly decorate. Gina liked to be involved though. She was kind of close to Tina. They weren’t best friends and Tina was friendly with almost everyone at Hawkin’s High. But there were many a drunk night spent between the two where they told secrets. Like how Tina had slept with Tommy during one of his and Carol’s many break-ups and she really didn’t want Carol to find out. Gina didn’t tell her about Steve, though. But she told her a secret about one of her embarrassing hookups.

When they arrive at the school, Gina and Carol find their way to Tina, Becca and Stacy. The five girls lean against Tina’s car while Tommy talks to his basketball buddies. Gina watches as Steve’s BMW pulls into the lot, Nancy in the front seat and she tries not to let her disappointment make itself known on her face. It’s been long enough. She should be used to it at this point. It still stings. Gina wishes she was in Nancy’s place.

A rumble of a loud engine grabs everyone’s attention. A pretty night blue 79’ Z28 Camaro drives by and into the spot opposite the girls. Everyone’s eyes are glued on it. No one in Hawkin’s has a car like that. It belongs to an outsider, a stranger. Gina’s in love with the car the second she sees it. It’s fucking awesome. The California plates catch her attention. PCE 235. It’s hard to read until it comes to a stop. The loud music erupting from the car cuts off and the drivers door swings open.

Worn motorcycle boots and thick denim legs emerge, Gina couldn’t look away if she wanted to. The man who emerges from the Camaro literally takes her breath away. Blonde, curly mullet and a hint of a mustache. He’s fucking gorgeous. A young redhead climbs out the passenger side with a skateboard, she’s wearing a red Adidas sweatshirt. She throws the board down and skates up to the middle school. The guy takes a pull from his cigarette, gives a little smirk to the four girls and then tosses the cigarette before strutting towards the school.

Gina’s breath catches in her throat. An immediate attraction to the boy. The Scorpions song he was blasting helps. They clearly have a similar interest and she’s floored with the possibilities that could be. She wants to talk to him so bad.

“Who is that?” Stacy asks what they’re all thinking.

“I have no idea,” Tina replies, “but would you check out that ass? Just look at it go.”

Oh, Gina is. His Levi’s are so fucking tight, they show off his thick thighs and perfect ass. She’s almost embarrassed by the physical reaction she’s having to the newcomer. Tommy’s jogging over, looking amongst the girls.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asks, face all contorted in excitement.

“We don’t know,” Carol says.

“His car is fucking bitchin’,” he gushes.

;;;

Tommy moves fast. Gina realizes as much when she’s walking up towards their house and sees that gorgeous Camaro parked on the street. Her heart flutters when she sees it. The chance to meet the stranger is exciting.

She’d just been at the music store, used her allowance to buy a record and a cassette. They were the same album. She wanted one to listen to at home and another to put in her Walkman.

Gina passes by her parents as she makes her way up the sidewalk. She smiles at them. They’re preparing for the cold months about to come. Uprooting the plants that won’t make it, unhooking the house and whatever else.

“Tommy’s got a new friend over,” her mother says.

Gina points at the Camaro, “I see that.”

“Seems like a nice kid,” her dad offers, “Very respectful.”

“Yeah?” Gina smiles.

Her mom gives her a knowing look, “You think he’s handsome?”

“Well, he is,” she gushes. “I haven’t talked to him, yet. He was nice?”

“Definitely. Complimented my roses as I ripped them out,” her dad says. “Nice car too.”

“Really nice car.”

“Why don’t you go and introduce yourself?” Gina’s mom insists, “Ask if he’d like to stay for dinner.”

Gina nods with a grin before opening the front door. She’s greeted with the sound of Metallica blaring out of Tommy’s room. It seems he’s trying to impress the new guy with the only metal album he owns. Suddenly, she’s nervous. That boy was so handsome she felt on fire when she’d seen him. And now he was in her house. Hanging out with her brother. It was almost too good to be true.

She takes a deep breath before making her descent down the hallway. Gina stops at Tommy’s room and peers inside. Carol’s laid out on the floor, checking her nails while the blonde and her brother sit on the edge of Tommy’s bed. The gorgeous boy has a cigarette perched in between his lips while he nods along with the baseline of the song. Tommy’s head banging obnoxiously. Her parents smoke in the house so that’s not an issue, they just don’t know that Tommy and Gina also smoke. She wonders what they’d think of this kid their age, smoking in their house.

The stranger notices her and pinches his cigarette between his fingers as he pulls it away. His lips curl up and he drawls, “Hi.”

Gina’s throat tightens as she matches his gaze. His voice is like honey. Thick and sweet as it sends excitement between her legs. She gives a shy wave as her brother and his girlfriend notice her. Carol beckons her inside and she steps inside.

“Oh! Billy, this is my sister, Gina,” Tommy introduces her.

“Hi, Gina,” he purrs and extends his cigarette out for her to take.

Gina accepts it, taking a drag and tries to ignore the burning feeling on her lips. Or the fact that if her parents saw her smoking, they’d kill her. The panic is quickly squashed by the handsome blondes icy eyes on her. He’s even prettier this close. He’s got a hint of a mustache, it’s mostly rough stubble but it’s clear he can grow facial hair and that rouses something in Gina.

“Hi, Billy,” she says and passes the cigarette back.

He presses two fingers to the paper bag she’s got clutched against her chest, “What’s this you got?”

“An album.”

“Which one?” he raises an eyebrow and it feels like a test. Gina hopes she passes.

She pulls the record out of the bag, displaying Ratt’s Out of the Cellar for him. Billy grins wide, standing up and taking the album from her hands.

“Atta girl,” he praises and fuck, the praise goes straight between her legs. “I love this album.”

Gina would give anything to impress him more. He slides his thumbnail against the sleeve, slicing the cellophane open with the motion and walks over to Tommy’s record player. Carol grabs onto Gina’s wrist and pulls her down, giving her these eyes and Gina doesn’t miss the intensity in Tommy’s eyes as he shakes his head at her. Billy plops back down on the bed, oblivious to the silent interaction the three of them had. He pulls a can of beer from the sixer and cracks it open before he hands it to Gina. She accepts it with a small thanks. He’s got a little dangly earring and it catches on his curls. Gina has to stop herself from leaning forward and fixing it. She’s eager to touch him.

Billy sings along with the first track, low but Gina still hears him. She loves the sound of his voice. It’s sexy. She’s so close to turning into a puddle on her brothers floor.

“Did you see Steve with the princess today? Gag me with a spoon!” Carol gossips as she gestures gagging herself.

“I know,” Tommy scoffs.

“What’s the deal with that guy?” Billy asks, eyes trained on Gina like he expects her to answer.

Tommy sighs, “He used to fucking run school. King Steve. Then, he stuck his dick in the priss and he changed. Man’s totally whipped.”

“He used to be our friend,” Carol offers.

“Everyone was telling me about him,” Billy replies, “Said I’m gunning to be the new King. Whatever the fuck that means.”

“He’s an asshole,” Carol rolls her eyes. “But you are, this town needed someone with an edge.”

Billy snorts, eyes darting between the two girls on the floor.

“Steve’s nice,” Gina says meekly, staring at her knees as she speaks. No matter what, she couldn’t really bare them talking bad about Steve. He was nice and well, she was still in love with him.

“Whatever,” Tommy huffs, “He’s different. He used to be cool.”

“So you like metal?” Billy changes the subject as he nudges the toe of his boot against Gina’s knee.

She beams up at him, “Yeah.”

“Me too,” he smirks, biting his lip.

“Cool,” Gina’s sure she’s actually the lamest person he’s ever talked to. His eyes are the prettiest color she’s ever seen. She gets lost in them while he turns his attention back to Tommy, asks him where he can find weed.

“Oh, the freak, Eddie Munson,” Tommy answers but he’s up on his feet and walks over to his dresser. The freckled boy retrieves a joint. Gina and Carol meet each other with equally annoyed expressions. They’d had plans for the joint.

Tommy extends it out to Billy, “But here, you can have this in the meantime.”

“Ha, alright! Thanks man, I really appreciate it,” he beams as he tucks the joint in his pack of Marlboros. “Think we’re best buds, now.”

Tommy beams at the prospect, sitting down with a shrug, “Ah, it’s no big deal. A welcome gift.”

“Oh,” Gina interrupts, looking at Billy, “My mom wanted me to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner.”

“Wish I could, darling but, I better get home before my old man does,” the blonde says with a slight wince.

Gina stands up so she’s out of his way, but he stands up and they’re a little closer than Gina intended, almost nose to nose. She takes a step to the side and tucks her brown hair behind her hair, awkwardly smiling up at him. He smirks, biting his lower lip as his eyes scan her face. His gaze is pretty intimidating, she wants to crawl out of her skin from it.

“It was nice to meet ya, Gina,” he purrs.

Gina has to hold in the squeal threatening to escape, “You too.”

Once the front door shuts, letting them know Billy’s left, Tommy points to his younger sister.

“Off limits,” he says seriously, “I like him, don’t fuck it up.”

Gina holds up her hands defensively, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“I saw how you looked at him,” he argues with a tilt of his head.

“Oh, stop,” she sighs, “I don’t have a crush on him.”

“Yeah, right. I have eyes, ya know? He’s a good looking guy,” Tommy quips.

“Ya going queer on me?” Carol teases, “You don’t want Gina to go after him ‘cause you want a chance first?”

Tommy shoots her this flabbergasted, borderline disgusted look, “Get over here and I’ll show you how untrue that is.”

“Ew, disgusting,” Gina snarls, “I’m leaving.”

She shuts the door behind and goes to her room, trying not to think of Billy while she gets started on her homework. It’s a moot point. His eyes, thighs and bouncy curls flood her mind while she does her algebra.

;;;

Billy’s nice. He keeps Gina company while Tommy and Carol suck face, just like Steve used to do.

“They always do this?” he asks.

Gina nods, “Yeah. You’ll get used to it.”

He’s funny, likes to people watch. Right now they’re doing it, sitting on the hood of his Camaro at lunch. They share a cigarette and Billy points at a group of boys talking about fifteen feet away. He does funny voices while he makes up what he thinks the boys are saying.

“You’re not sensitive enough, Toby,” he puts on this whiny, exaggerated voice as one of the boys talks excitedly, “That’s why you can’t get a girlfriend!”

Gina giggles, not confident enough to join in with him but Billy’s funny enough on his own.

“Shut up,” he does the other kids voice now, “I don’t get girls because I eat my boogers.”

Another eruption of giggles come from Gina, she shoves Billy’s shoulder and covers her face. He chuckles and snatches the smoke from her fingertips, bringing it to his lips.

“You know those kids?” he asks.

She nods, “I had them in all my classes in elementary school. You’re spot on. He really does eat his boogers.”

The older boy cackles, “Yeah, he looks like he does.”

They’re quiet for a beat, Billy seems to be scanning for more victims but Gina interrupts him, “Are you going to the party tonight?”

“Yeah, think so,” he finishes the smoke and flicks it away, “Does Tina throw bitchin’ parties?”

“I helped plan it,” Gina admits and then shrugs, “They’re usually pretty fun. All the parties around here kind of bleed together. There’s gonna be a keg though.”

“Yeah? You do keg stands?” he snickers, lips pulled up in the cutest smile she’d seen.

“I have not tried,” Gina admits with a giggle, “I struggle enough shotgunning.”

“I’ll teach ya,” he insists as the warning bell rings. He stands up and looks over to Gina, “So I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Yeah, see you there.”

-

Gina huffs as she attempts to curl a stubborn chunk of her hair. She really needed to get another perm. Reaching for the mousse, she sprays a glob of it and scrunches her hair up with it until she’s satisfied. She stands up and assesses her “costume”, it’s just a short skirt, fishnets and a ripped up t-shirt. She’s not necessarily trying to get Billy’s attention but she doesn’t mind if she does.

Carol saunters into the doorway, donning a similar outfit, “And what are you supposed to be?”

Gina scrunches her hair up some more, “Hot.”

“Maybe for a particular blonde with a great ass?”

Turning to Carol, she rolls her eyes and grabs her jacket, “He’s off-limits, remember?”

“Fuck Tommy,” Carol snorts, “you deserve to have some fun and he looks like he knows how to have it.”

“He’s so out of my league, anyways,” Gina shrugs on her jacket and reaches for her purse.

Carol stops her, placing her hands on Gina’s shoulders and looking at her, “That’s so not true, Gina. You’re totally gorgeous.”

Her cheeks redden at the compliment, she can tell that Carol really means it. She smiles at her brothers girlfriend, “He kind of did like give me a look in Tommy’s room, didn’t he?”

“Totally. He was undressing you with his eyes, I say go for it,” Carol grins.

Tommy yells from the living room, “How long does it take to get ready?! I’m ready to get drunk!”

“He sounds like he already is,” Gina grumbles before following Carol out to Tommy’s car.

Tina’s house is absolutely packed. It’s a struggle for Tommy to find a spot to park on the lawn. He grumbles something about Gina taking forever and making them late.

Carol shoves his shoulder, “It’s important to be fashionably late, moron. We’ll look like losers if we’re on time. Gina’s doing us all a favor.”

Gina rolls her eyes, her stomach is a bit upset due to her brothers rather erratic driving. He was a little too tipsy already and she’s hoping Carol will drive them home. Once he parks, she climbs out of the car and stands beside Carol.

“The whole fucking school showed up,” Gina notes, eyes scanning the front yard.

Just then, Billy comes barreling toward them before jumping on Tommy’s back. Billy’s dressed like the terminator, black fingerless gloves, a leather jacket over his shirtless torso and really tight jeans. He’s pretty clearly tipsy and Gina wonders how long he’s been here. He jumps off Tommy, wrapping his arms around Carol and Gina’s shoulders and guides them towards the house with a slurred, “My favorite girls!”

Gina tries not to focus on how close his lips are to her ear, it was like he was whispering that just for her to hear. His deep voice makes her chest and stomach tighten.

“You ready to take the new Keg King title?” Tommy asks, urging the group over to the side of the house where the keg is set up.

“I was born ready,” Billy says smugly, hands on his hips as Tommy pumps the keg up.

Gina stands next to Tina and Carol to watch. She notes Tina’s Madonna costume and smiles, “I love your costume, Tina. You look so good.”

“Thanks, babe,” Tina smiles, raising her solo cup to the girls.

After a beat, Tina groans and tells the two other girls, “Billy is so fine.” She gestures fanning herself, “God, look at his abs.”

“Isn’t he, Gina?” Carol nudges the brunettes shoulder and winks.

“Oh, shit, did you call dibs?” Tina’s eyes widen and Gina has to roll her eyes.

“No, Carol just wants to live vicariously through me. I’m not into him,” Gina explains and she’s met with two pairs of confused eyes.

“What do you mean you’re not into him?” Tina asks, “Do you need glasses? He’s literally sex on legs.”

“Tommy told her he’s off-limits,” Carol snorts, “but I say fuck him.”

Gina shakes her head, watching as they lift Billy up and he downs the beer from the tap. She remembers watching Steve do it all those times before and her heart aches.

“I’m not interested,” she insists.

“Well— I’m not gonna hold back,” Tina smiles, biting her lip.

“Go for it,” Gina says and hopes she doesn’t sound as bitter as she feels, “I’m gonna get myself a drink.”

She leaves the group and wanders inside, saying hi to classmates on the way until she finds herself in the kitchen and fills herself a cup of whatever toxic concoction is filling the punch bowl. It’s red and when she brings it to her nose, it burns her nostrils. Perfect. Gina absolutely loved alcohol. Maybe a little too much. But she had a handle on it, didn’t blackout aside from parties like this. She liked the way it burned down her throat and spread a warm, numb feeling across her chest. And Gina was pretty shy overall, she was nervous to talk to people but when she drank, the nerves slipped away and she was the biggest social butterfly on the planet. That’s how most of these people got to know her, she didn’t really talk to them at school. She kept close to her few friends, Tommy and Carol.

As Gina finishes her drink and pours herself another, she sees Nancy heading her way, Steve only steps behind her. Gina’s chest aches and she quickly moves away from the punch, rounds the counter in attempts to hide from them. She’s successful and from where she’s at, she can just see their torsos, the bar cabinet covers their faces. Nancy downs three cups consecutively and as she’s getting the fourth, Steve’s hands grab to stop her. They struggle for a minute but it ends up with bright red, alcoholic juice splashed on Nancy’s white cashmere sweater. Gina winces, there’s no way the stains coming out. Then Nancy storms off and of course, Steve’s chasing after her.

Seeing the brunette again brings all kinds of confusing feelings back for Gina. Steve had avoided parties once he and Tommy had their big fight. She’d only see him at school, in study hall where they sat next to each other. But these days, Steve didn’t even spare her a smile, a glance— anything. It was like Gina didn’t exist to him anymore. And feelings aren’t fun. So Gina wanders back outside, finds her group of friends. She wants to get wasted and forget about Steve like he forgot about her.

“So you still wanna teach me how to properly shotgun?” she asks Billy, the alcohol coursing through her makes her a lot less tense.

The blonde smiles wickedly at her, digging in the cooler for two cans of beer and hands one to her. He pulls out a pocket knife from his jeans and presses the blade to the aluminum, “Right here. Steady so the fucker doesn’t blow in your face and…” he trails off as he punctures the can and peels it open a bit with the blade before he hands it to Gina.

She does as he says, but she’s not as steady as he is and when she punctures the can, beer sprays out of it and all over her chin and white top. She squeals, dropping the can and looking up at Billy with her jaw hanging open.

“See?! I suck,” she whines and wipes her chin.

He cackles, “Maybe someone shook that can up. Here. Take this one.”

He hands her the can he had prepped and retrieves another, repeats his fluid motions and then slips the knife back in his pocket. “‘Kay, you’re just gonna bring it to your lips and pull the tab. I just kind of open my throat up and guzzle. Ya ready?”

Gina nods nervously, shaky hands bringing the punctured hole to her lips and pops the tab at the same time Billy does. It’s super cold going down, Gina can’t drink it nearly as fast as Billy can, he’s dropping the empty aluminum to the floor in seconds and she furrows her eyebrows as she looks at him, guzzling her beer down. When she pulls it away, he’s raising his eyebrows and grinning from ear to ear, pretty pearly whites on display. Gina melts a bit. Wants Billy to look at her like that more.

“Atta girl,” he praises and it goes straight between her legs, “You did it.”

She clears her throat, dropping the can as she wipes the sudsy liquid off her chin, “Not as fast as you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the new keg king after all,” he winks and she giggles.

“Can I have a cigarette?” she asks, bouncing on her feet. Billy nods, pulls his pack out and grabs a smoke, brings it to his lips and lights it before handing it to Gina. He immediately lights himself one and nods his head over to a couple of outdoor chaise lounge chairs strewn across Tina’s front yard. Gina follows him to them, she sits down on one and fully expects Billy to take the other but he lounges on the one she takes, right between her legs and rests his head on her chest.

“It’s not like the parties back home but I’m having fun,” he says, looking up at Gina.

She smiles, slightly uncomfortable at his weight on her body but she doesn’t dare say anything. He’s warm, like a heater against her chest. He reeks of booze but there’s a hint of his cologne still there. She wonders if he feels as sticky as she does, with the beer splattered over both their chests. It’s kind of gross but Gina didn’t want to freak out and seem uncool.

“Me too,” she says. “thanks for teaching me how to shotgun.”

“Ahh, I have a feeling you’ve done it before,” he insists and he’s not wrong. Steve had shown her countless times but Billy doesn’t need to know that.

“Nope, I’m just good at opening my throat,” she explains and then realizes the unintended innuendo, her eyes widening.

“Oh, you are, are you?” Billy teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That sounded so wrong. I didn’t mean it like that,” she shakes her head frantically, cheeks flushed. “I just meant, I can— oh forget it.”

Billy just hums, she can hear the smile in it. She’s successfully mortified herself. Maybe she should cool it on the booze for a while. Though, Billy puts her right at ease, tilting his head up so he can look at her. The drunken smile on his face is very, very cute. She feels warm all over, a little floaty and genuinely happy. Until her mind gets the best of her again. Gina tries not to feel insecure, but she wonders how she looks from his angle.

“What are the parties like in California?” she tries to change the subject.

Billy takes a puff of his cigarette and she watches the smoke rise up and disappear, “Wild. People jumping off balconies, there’s usually live music but it’s never good. Just some assholes who think they're the next Motley Crue ‘cause they wear spandex and got guitars for Christmas. I used to go to punk shows a lot.”

“Punk?” Gina repeats, “You don’t seem the type.”

“Ah, I love punk music. The shows are something else. You get wasted and spend hours getting your ass beat in the mosh pit. Nothing more freeing,” he explains and sighs. “I take it there’s none here.”

“They might have some at The Hideout,” Gina offers, “Bands play there a lot.”

“Any good ones?”

“Not any I know,” Gina admits, though she’s never actually been to The Hideout on account that it’s a bar.

She’s incredibly tempted to run her fingers through Billy’s sweaty blonde curls. She wants to know if they’re as soft as they look or if they’re crunchy with mousse like hers.

“Maybe I can take you to a punk show, if they have ‘em,” Billy muses, sitting up and turning to face Gina.

“Maybe,” Gina smiles warmly, butterflies filling her stomach and her toes tingle. “It sounds like fun.”

“Yeah? Think you’d be thrashing around, knocking people out in the pit?” Billy cackles to which Gina rolls her eyes.

“Do you miss California?”

“No shit. This place sucks,” Billy snorts, “Nothing to do and trust me, this party is real fucking tame.”

Gina feels guilty, but she’s not sure why. It’s not her fault he hates Hawkins. Billy seems to notice her quick change in demeanor because he nudges his shoulder against hers and says, “You’re pretty cool, though. Even if you won’t do a keg stand.”

“It’s a boy thing,” Gina insists while blushing and Billy makes a confused face.

“What? No, it’s not a boy thing. You’re just scared,” he shrugs, smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“I just don’t think I could do it for long,” Gina shrugs.

“Well, yeah, there’s no way you’re beating my record. And I could’ve gone longer too, but those assholes pulled me down when I beat King Steve’s record,” he brags with a smirk, nudging Gina with his knee.

She tries not to falter at the mention of Steve. Even through his fall of grace, everyone still talks about him all the time. Even this new guy. It’s a little annoying. She wishes Steve would just disappear sometimes.

“Oh, I’m so sure,” she rolls her eyes, tossing her smoke when it’s down to the filter. Billy follows suit.

He slaps his thighs before standing, “Well, I need a beer. Ya coming?”

Gina nods, finds herself following him back to the hoard of teens surrounding the cooler. Carol’s there, getting a beer and when she sees Gina and Billy walking up together, she wiggles her eyebrows at the younger girl. Gina quickly looks around for Tommy and luckily, he’s nowhere to be found.

“Where’d you two run off to?” Carol inquires as she opens the beer, watching Billy retrieve two cans and handing one to Gina.

“For a smoke,” Billy explains, just as Tina bounces up and snakes her arm around his waist. She whispers something in his ear and he frowns, like he’s contemplating before he nods and saunters inside the house behind Tina.

Carol watches them with a disgusted look on her face before she says to Gina in a mocking tone, “Billy! Let me show you my room so I can suck you off.”

Gina shakes her head but smiles, her heart aches a bit but she gets distracted. A familiar face with floppy hair walks passed and he looks angry. Gina eyes follow him to his BMW, where he slams the door and peels out.

“Steve seems upset,” she mumbles softly, wanting nothing more than to be there to comfort him.

Carol snorts, “The princess left with fucking Byers. I’m sure he’s pissed.”

“Really? Oh, god. Poor Steve… I thought there wasn’t anything between Nancy and Jonathon,” Gina replies, eyes finding Carol again.

“Yeah, sure. Asshole is getting what he deserved. And with Nancy and Byers, I think there is,” Carol shrugs, “Come on, let’s go dance!”

The redhead grabs onto Gina’s hand and pulls her inside. They dance for a bit and it’s nice. Gina forgets about Billy and Steve for the time being. She downs a few more drinks, her inhibitions fly through the window and she becomes like a totally different person. Gina floats among groups, talking everyone’s ear that she can get ahold of off. It’s fun. She has so much fun at parties, except she never remembers the conversations she’s had.

She’s talking to someone from her English class, a boy who’s interested in her but right now, she can’t remember his name and she’s already asked him four times. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Billy walking towards her. He’s hard to miss, leather jacket without a shirt and his blonde mullet is tousled, a few curls sticking up and laying the way they’re not supposed to. He places his hands on Gina’s hips and whispers in her ear, “Smoke?”

Gina nods graciously at the idea. A cigarette sounds really good right now.

Billy looks to the gentleman she’s been talking to and grins, “Sorry. I’ve got to steal Miss Gina away. Hope you don’t mind, big boy.”

He pats the guys shoulder before he’s dragging her out the back door. Tommy and Carol are outside which is a bummer, especially when Billy abruptly pulls his hands away from Gina’s waist and tackles Tommy to the floor. They wrestle in the grass as the two girls watch them curiously.

Carol nudges her side, “Hargrove was getting real handsy with you just then.”

Gina sighs, “I’m pretty sure he and Tina just had sex. And it doesn’t matter! I don’t like him. He is very pretty, and funny, and really really nice but I don’t like him. I’m not allowed.”

Carol giggles, “You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Gina slurs, taking a misstep and stumbling down to her knees. “Ow!” she whines, but lays on the grass, staring up at the sky.

Billy and Tommy lay on either side of her, giggling like they can’t control themselves. And since Gina’s also in a drunken stupor, she starts giggling too. Carol peers down at the three of them, an amused smile on her face.

“Tommy, come here,” she says, “I have something important to show you.”

The freckled boy shoots up quickly, following his girlfriend back inside the house. Carol did it on purpose, Gina’s sure. She wants her to spend alone time with Billy.

“Smoke,” Billy says, hands reaching into his pocket to retrieve his pack. He lights it for her before passing it, head turned to face Gina. He looks as drunk as she feels. Perhaps it’s not a great idea to lay here next to him in such a state. Inhibitions are low and Gina’s scared she’ll slip up and say something she shouldn’t. Or even worse, touch him.

“Thank you,” she sighs happily.

There’s a group of kids in the backyard with them but it feels like they’re alone. The kids are wrapped up in a conversation, it seems intense, whatever it is. If Gina wasn’t so drunk and focused on the muscular body lying next to her, she would try to listen in.

“You having fun?” he asks softly.

“Loads. I’m getting pretty sleepy, though,” she admits, turning on her side to look at Billy. He does the same, eyes scanning her face.

“We could crash right here. Sleep on the grass,” Billy mumbles, a smile twitching at his lips.

Gina giggles, “That wouldn’t be very comfy.”

He purses his lips, “I’m pretty comfortable.”

“We’d freeze,” she points out, bringing the cigarette to her lips and tilts her head to blow the smoke up.

“That’s probably true,” he admits and chuckles, “Maybe Tina has a blanket we could use.”

“I’m sure she’d just let you sleep in her bed,” Gina says, raising an eyebrow.

Billy makes a face, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows, “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not,” Gina reflects, shaking her head.

“Hmm,” Billy hums and cracks a smile, “I’m just messing with you.”

Gina shoves his shoulder and sits up, “They better hurry.”

Billy sits up beside her and snatches the cigarette, “I can take you home, if you want.”

“No, they’ll get upset if I just left and didn’t tell them,” Gina insists. “Thanks, though.”

“Is Tommy like super protective of you?” Billy asks.

Gina sighs and shrugs, “Sometimes? I try not to let him know my business. I think it just depends on if he’s bored or not. He beat up the first boyfriend I had in grade school.”

“What? Why?” Billy laughs.

“‘Cause he kissed another girl at recess and I cried,” Gina explains with a giggle.

“I’d do the same,” Billy muses.

“As my first boyfriend or as Tommy?”

“Tommy. My step sisters an annoying brat but I’d still punch any guy that hurt her,” he explains, stubbing his cigarette out.

“How long as she’s been your step sister?” Gina wonders.

Billy tilts his head, doing the math in his head, “Like four years? My dad started seeing Susan when I was 13, they got married kind of soon after.”

Gina wonders about his mom but she doesn’t want to prod too deep. She figures if he wants to tell her, he’ll do that.

“Huh,” Gina nods, “Well that’s sweet of you. A lot of brothers don’t care. Tommy and I have always been pretty close, though.”

“Yeah, I saw the photos in your hallway,” Billy says, “That’s cool. It’d be cool to have like real siblings.”

“Oh, god, those are so embarrassing,” Gina covers her face with her hands. She turns and looks at him, finding his comment about siblings a little odd. But she doesn’t know what it’s like to have step siblings. “So it was just you before your dad met her mom?”

“Yeah, just me and dad for a couple years,” he says but he sounds far away, like he’s in his head. He stands up and flicks his cigarette. Just then, Tommy and Carol come back outside.

“I think it’s about time we head out,” Carol says, “Billy, you okay to drive?”

Billy grins wide, “Peachy.” It’s a stark contrast to the stoic look he got on his face when talking about his family. Gina wants to know more because he seemed like something from his past hurt him. She can’t help but be curious, wants to know everything about him suddenly. It was like this mask fell and he was vulnerable for a second. Gina didn’t see that from men she knew. She hadn’t talked about feelings with one before but now she wants to know exactly what Billy's feeling and thinking. All of his secrets and memories.

Carol doesn’t look like she believes him so they compromise. The three of them follow Billy to Cherry Lane to make sure he gets home safe, Carol keeps repeating how impressed she is with his intoxicated driving during the ride. Cherry Lane is quite a distance away from Loch Nora and truly out of the way from where the Hagan’s live but the three of them want to make sure Billy’s gets home safe.

Billy pulls up this his house, parks the Camaro and struts over to the passenger window of Tommy’s car, where Tommy is hanging outside of.

“Safe and sound,” he says and pats the roof of the car. “See you at school, amigo,” he pinches the brunette boys nose, making him jolt back in his seat and swat at Billy’s hand.

“Asshole,” Tommy mumbles behind a laugh, rubbing his nose.

Billy leans down and looks at Carol and then at Gina in the backseat, “Bye, ladies.”

“Bye, Billy,” they chime at the same time before watching him walk up to the front door, unlocking it before sneaking inside.

Carol pulls off down the street, turning around back towards the Hagan house.

Gina gushes, “Billy’s so cool.”

“Yeah,” Tommy beams from the front seat, “He’s fucking badass.”

“And he’s so cute,” Gina slurs dreamily and sighs.

“No,” Tommy scolds, “I said no.”

Gina pouts the whole way home.

;;;

This hangover is one for the books. Gina managed to sleep a whopping four hours. Yet, she somehow managed to shower in the morning and get ready. She wore her most comfortable pair of jeans and her forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. Her hair was a bit unruly but she already had a major headache, so a ponytail wasn’t a smart option.

When she makes it into the kitchen, she pours a glass of orange juice and sips it slowly. Her brother and Carol are eating a quick breakfast. Their parents have already left to take Bridgette to school. Which is good. Seeing her parents after a night of partying was the last thing she wanted.

Tommy still reeked of alcohol on the ride to school. And Carol drove, insisting that Tommy was still drunk.

Crazy enough, Billy looks good as new. Tight Levi’s and a white long-sleeve button up with his denim jacket. Gina tries not to drool. He leans against his Camaro, smoking a cigarette that he offers to Gina when they walk up.

She shakes her head, “I think I’ll barf if I have some.”

“Aw,” Billy pouts and asks in a teasing tone, “Hangover?”

“You're not?” she asks, bewildered and he shrugs.

“I don’t get hangovers,” he insists, taking another drag from his smoke as he looks over to her brother, probably taking note of his disheveled hair.

“I’m still drunk,” Tommy declares with a pleased smile to which Billy cackles.

“Just wait a few hours,” Carol snorts, “You’ll be hungover before ya know it, babe.”

Tommy frowns, reaches in his pocket and shows them the two whiskey shooters he has, “Nah, I’m gonna ride this until I have the sweet pleasure of my bed.”

Carol snatches the keys from Tommy’s other pocket, “In that case.”

Tommy doesn’t argue, he just shrugs and then snatches the cigarette from Billy. The blonde makes a face when Tommy gets close.

“You smell like a goddamn distillery, Hagan,” he quips and recoils back, pinching his nose.

Gina agrees, the whole drive to school was almost unbearable. Her stomach twisted and she had to focus on her breathing so she didn’t vomit from the smell of him.

“So, you hook up with Tina?” Tommy asks, wiggling his eyebrows and obviously trying to change the subject.

Billy smirks, shaking his head and says, “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So you didn’t see her third nipple?” Tommy asks, frowning.

Billy’s face scrunches up, “She doesn’t have a third nipple.”

The freckled boy cackles, “Ha! So you did fuck her!”

Gina rubs her eyes, trying to mask the very intense jealousy she’s feeling. Carol’s laughing at Tommy’s trick but Gina can’t bring herself to. She’s just imagining Billy and Tina in bed and it’s making her even more sick to her stomach. She doesn’t want to feel jealous, knows she doesn’t really have a right to but she can’t help it.

“Shut up,” Billy rolls his eyes but he’s blushing, just barely. It’s kind of alarming to see.

“She’ll tell everyone,” Gina finally speaks up, “So like, no point in hiding it.”

She cringes a bit, the disdain is a little too apparent in her voice and her ears go hot at hearing herself. But she’s not wrong. Tina’s probably told the entire senior class already. And Hawkins is small, by the end of the day, even the middle school kids will know.

“I’m not hiding it,” Billy scoffs, “I just think it’s lame to brag about getting laid.”

“Hm,” Gina purses her lips, “I’m gonna head to class.”

She hurries towards the building, hoping none of them follow her because her heads pounding and she’s fuming with jealousy. She just wants to get the school day over with and crawl back into bed. The first four periods drag on. Particularly fourth period, which is the study hall she shares with Steve. They literally sit next to each other. If Gina leans over just enough, she can smell his shampoo. It smells like honey. She remembers shoving her face in it when they used to cuddle. Gina loved the smell of his hair and his skin.

However, that was long ago and she’s reminded of how much their relationship has changed during class. When she looks to Steve and their eyes meet, he quickly averts them and busies himself with his homework. It makes Gina’s heart ache. She wonders if he would just look her in the eye if things would change. She’d give anything to go back to how things were before Nancy Wheeler. Nothing made her feel the way she did when she was alone with Steve. He had this way of making her feel like she was the most special person. And the problem with that was how addictive it was. Gina was obsessed with Steve after the first time he kissed her and that never went away. She didn’t go a single day without thinking about him. So it stings when he acts like it’s painful to look at her.

She’s managed to go a whole two months of this treatment though. Today shouldn’t be any different. It’s probably because of the dumb jealousy she’s been harboring over Tina and Billy. A reminder of how Steve chose another woman. And well, Billy didn’t exactly choose Tina over her but she still didn’t like the thought of Billy with another woman. All throughout the day, she reminds herself how she really needs to suffocate her attraction to Billy. Nip it in the bud before she gets lovesick for two men who don’t want her.

It’s difficult when lunch comes around. Billy’s a full fledged member of their group now. Gina stands across from him, trying not to feel the effects of her hangover while they socialize. Tommy’s rambling about something or another, Gina can’t focus and he’s clearly drank both his shots of whiskey. All his words are slurred. She thinks he mentions something about ditching his last two classes to sleep in his car.

“You’re lucky you don’t have practice today,” Carol points out.

Tommy waves her off, “I could still play better than Harrington, blackout or sober.”

“Coach wants me to join,” Billy mumbles around his cigarette.

“Fucking do it!” Tommy cheers, jumping in place.

Billy cackles, looking at the freckled boy with amusement. Everyone agrees with Tommy and they all look at Billy expectantly.

“Baseball’s my thing but basketball is fun. I’m thinking about it,” he explains with a shrug.

Gina kicks the toe of her Ked against his motorcycle boot and their eyes meet, “You should.”

“Okay,” he smiles, “I’ll talk to coach.”

The moment between them is quickly interrupted by Tina swaying between the group of kids and sandwiching herself between Billy and Tommy. She leans her side on Billy and whispers something in his ear. The blondes eyebrows raise and he snorts, shaking his head. Gina turns her attention away, not being able to stomach the sight of them.

[weministertomonsters]

Orc (Oak) x human female reader ~ Part 1

If you enjoy this story, please re-blog it if you're able! It helps a lot. <3

~ ~ ~

The air bites at your skin and you can see each puffing white cloud of your breath as you struggle to keep your numb fingers curled around the handles of the basket of wood chips. The first thing you hear is the chatter of talking women and second, the crack of Ms. Markely's cane.

"Faster!" Ms. Markely snaps, and someone howls in pain.

"Oh, Ms. Markely, do have some pity on her," one of the women tuts. "She's just a girl."

"She's twelve, old enough to know that if she doesn't help fill her family quota, it will be her plate going empty," Ms. Markely sneers back. "The sooner you're done, girl, the sooner you can leave, so continue carding that wool. I don't want to see a single tangle when you're through."

Ms. Markely turns her ungainly body, rustling in her crisp skirt, and spots you.

"Come now, stoke the fire. We're all freezing," she commands.

You do as she asks, glad to have a reason to crouch beside the warm fireplace. You can't linger for long, however, and as soon as you're done you move over to the corner where the young girl crouches, untangling sheep's wool. Her face is dirty and smudged where fresh tears have run. A scruffy kitten lies sleeping on her lap. She smiles when you take a stool to sit on and begin to help her.

"My name is Ann, what's yours?" She asks.

You tell her your name and inquire about the kitten. "Is she yours?"

"Not really but she's a stray so Momma said I could keep her."

You make small talk for a while but soon fall into companionable silence. You daydream about the things you would rather do. Sleep, for one. And make clothes for people as a seamstress instead of being confined to carding wool, a job that has no room for creativity and design.

Everyone has been carding and spinning wool since morning, and the cold makes backs ache and fingers protest even more than usual but no one complains. For many, this is the only way they can ensure food on their tables and grain in their bins during the long winter months.

"How much longer?" Ann whispers, scratching at her hair.

You shrug a shoulder and wince at the throbbing pain that you're reminded of. You had gone out to chop wood in the shed earlier and since you had wanted a substantial amount, you were probably swinging that heavy axe for longer than you should have.

With this weather, it's hard to know the time, as the dusky light filtering through the dirty windows could either mean early morning, late evening, or anything in between. At the speed at which you're forced to work, a single hour feels like so much more.

"Ms. Markley, when will we go for a break?" Ann asks, "I need to pee."

"When you've darned that basket of clothes," Ms. Markely says, pointing.

In a place like this, there's always extra work to do. Ann groans loudly and scrambles out of the way of Ms. Markely's swiping cane.

"Don't let me catch you slacking off or you'll stay an extra hour," the woman warns sternly.

No one can complain. More than half of the young women are unmarried, meaning they have no one to rely on. Others are apprentices for various jobs that have nothing to do in the winter, so the wealthy families in the town offer food and board and a small stipend in exchange for their labor. 

Ms. Markely is in charge of everything, so no one dares stand against her. Not even if you needed to piss, like poor Ann. Outside, the clop of horse hooves draws nearer and Ms. Markely peers outside, smoothing her stiffly starched collar.

"The delivery man is here for the wool," she says. "You there, go and help load the bags out."

She's looking at you over her beak-like nose. You've been living with her for over two months and she still can't recall your name. You stand quickly, wincing as your knees protest. The damn cold. It's bearable though because you get to see Oak, so you hurry out before Ms. Markely changes her mind.

You've been friends with Oak for a while now, ever since the Summer Festival when you drank too much mead and made a fool out of yourself dancing on a table and he was daft enough to call the incident a cute mishap.

"Hurry!" Ms. Marekly snaps unmercifully. "The horse will need to eat before its rounds as well s you might as well feed it while you're out there. Can't expect that man to do everything."

"Yes, Ms. Markely." You sigh and dip into a small curtsy before stepping outside, bracing yourself for the cold, and yet you're still unprepared for how brutally cold it is.

The sunlight reflecting on the snow hurts your eyes and you blink until they adjust. Oak comes twice a week to take the spun wool to the warehouse, where it is then shipped off to fairer lands where the woolen clothes are worn for fashion more than anything, or so you've heard.

Oak is also a farmer and even owns a plot of land. That alone makes him considerably well-off but it has got to be a lot of work to manage a farm, although you haven't asked him about it because you don't want to seem nosy.

You pause for a moment to watch him haul bales of hay out of the cart he brought along for the horse. Ms. Markely pays for that hay, which is fed to the horse Oak takes to the warehouse. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing inky tribal tattoos, which makes you wonder how he isn't freezing.

His ears are studded with bronze rings and his shiny hair- even longer than yours, is loose around his neck to retain body warmth. He's an orc but that never made him anything less in your eyes; in your opinion, he's more handsome than most of the men you know. He looks up and catches you staring and calls out your name, beckoning you over. You blush and hurry forward.

"Hey. Let me help you with those," you murmur, grabbing the rough rope looped around a hay bale.

"They're almost half your size, doll, and rather heavy. Don't worry about it," he says, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

He knows you're going to insist on helping anyway. You work in tandem to take them into the shed, which doubles as a storeroom. He carries two at a time and could probably carry more if he had extra hands. You half-carry and half-drag two bales in, proud of your small accomplishment.

Once the last of the hay has been brought in and the horse is fed, an awkward pause comes between you as you stand in the shed. It's nearly impossible not to look at him. You clasp your hands together and blow on them, rubbing to try and wake your fingers up.

"Let me," Oak says, reaching out to take your hands between his.

His body runs hot and his palms instantly warm your hands. Idly, you think about what a cozy bedmate he would make. You wouldn't need to layer several dresses on to stay warm. You could just snuggle up against his big body.

His thumbs stroke over the backs of your newly awakened hands and you shiver. The veins running up his arms give you butterflies in your stomach. Oak is strong enough to yank young trees up by their roots and yet gentle enough to hold a newborn kitten with tender care. It makes you wonder how his touch would feel on you.

He calls your name and you jerk your gaze up to his face. Life up in the icy north is rough on everyone but the crow's feet that appear when he smiles have a sort of elegance that makes it impossible to guess his age accurately. His orcish smile and boyish gaze don't help either.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" You stammer.

"I said, you look rather thin and pale. Have you been eating enough?"

You bite your lip and look down. "My work keeps me busy," you murmur. "I'm often too exhausted to eat when I get home."

"That's no good," he murmurs. "You know, I packed breakfast today. I still have some of it left over."

"Oh no, please don't bother," you stammer and he shakes his head, looming above you with a concerned frown.

"I do bother, doll. I want you healthy and happy, and you're neither right now."

You try to explain, but he's already striding out of the woodshed, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the door frame.

You wait, nervously imagining how mad Ms. Markely would be when she realizes you haven't returned yet and the ideas she'll get in her head about what took you so long... With any luck, she'll be too busy scolding someone to notice your absence. Oak enters the shed again, holding out a parcel of brown paper.

"It's not much but it's better than nothing," he says, all smiles again.

"Oh, I can't take your food," you say, but he's already unwrapping the package.

There are thick pieces of meat and cheese in there, along with a raisin bun. It's been weeks since you had anything other than bread and lukewarm soup. You bite your lip as the smell wafts over you.

"I know you are all working hard, but that woman seems to go harder on you than the rest as if she hates you. I can't help but worry," he says. "Don't let her walk all over you, okay?"

He breaks off a piece of the bun and holds it up to your mouth. Your embarrassment almost gets the better of you but you're very hungry, so you give in and let him feed you. Even though the bun is a little stale, it's the best thing you've ever eaten. The meat and cheese taste even better, deliciously pungent and salty.

When he has given you the last piece of meat, he's about to withdraw his hand when you grab it and lick the sugar from the raisin bun off his fingers, stomach satisfied and rumbling slightly with the richness of the food.

"I like your food," you mumble.

"And do you know what effect that has on me?" He says, his voice low and soft and upset. "You can't just go around licking my fingers, doll. I've only got so much self-control."

You drop his hand and back away sheepishly. "I... Sorry. That wasn't intentional."

"I'm hardly angry." His hand remains at his side and you wish he'd wipe it off.

Anything to burst the bubble of tension that has appeared between you. You still can't believe you licked his fingers. You stare at each other for a moment, at loss for words. He isn't even a little put off by your actions and some hidden part of you is curious about what will happen if you do it again.

"Where is that girl?" Ms. Markely suddenly shouts somewhere outside, bringing both of you back into the present with a bang. Oak draws back, tugging on his ear.

"I..." He clears his throat. "I have to go. Will I see you next week?"

You nod, licking your lips where the flavor still lingers. His gaze falls to them and his jaw clenches.

"I guess I'll see you then," he says. "Now take this and buy yourself something proper to eat for dinner."

He presses a couple of coins into your hand and ducks through the door, giving you no time to give it back. Your heart soars with joy and so much more as you slip it into your pocket and hurry out of the shed. Oak is hitching up the horse and you wave before you duck inside. Luckily for you, Ms. Markely has found a new target, waving her cane around and yelling about how to properly card and spin wool. You sense some of the women eyeing you with knowing suspicion but that's a concern for later.

For now, you sit and pick a new basket of wool to card, your stomach filled and heart warm.

[heresathreebee]

The One Where She Got A Dog

Yelena Belova X Reader

Summary: how Yelena became a dog mom Masterlist Part 2

Tags: E | 1.8k words | scary movie, winter, secret pasts, sapphic

AN: Black Widow movie really got me in my feelings about those characters, Yelena in particular. I havent watched The Thing in almost a year please look the other way if movie events are out of order.

Pretty Russian girls are not usually your type, but fuck if you weren't absolutely obsessed with this one. You laughed when she told you she was from Ohio.  She laughed when you said you were too. 

Aquavit and your grandma's biscuit recipe brought her into your cabin on the edge of the world where she admitted to you she had never seen John Carpenter's The Thing before. You turned it on just as the snow storm set in and wrapped up in your thickest blankets with her. You're trying not to get your hopes too high but she's not shy about asking you to scoot closer. 

"Skäl," you cheer just as the ominous opening credits end and they find the mysterious ship in the frozen wasteland of antarctica. 

"Have you ever been?," Yelena asked. 

You grimace at the strong taste of aquavit. It's like vodka but with caraway for 'flavor'. You look at her from the side and poor yourself a second shot. "Been…?" 

"There." She points at the screen. 

"I have actually," you admit in a way you hope is flat and uninteresting, "have you?" 

Yelena shook her head. It's possible she might think you're being sarcastic (you cross your fingers under the blanket and hope she does). She's smiling at you, thinking something (but still watching the screen with interest). 

She drops the subject until you have to pause the movie to pee. You unwrap yourself from the cocoon of blankets and as you stand she asks you another question. 

"What were you doing there? in Antarctica, I mean." 

You sigh and pretend to brush something off of your pants. "Science trip with my parents. Shitty vacation for me I'd rather be in the Bahamas." 

You resist the urge to look at her. After taking care of business, you come back just in time to put the biscuits in the oven. You hear Yelena lean into the kitchen archway as the floors creak immensely here. 

"No timer?," she asked. 

"No timer," you confirm. "I use the timer of my heart." 

Yelena scoffs. "Please don't burn them, I'm curious about these… what are they– pastries?" 

"Something like that." 

The two of you went back to the movie just as the gang on screen is trying to decipher who is human and who is not. You feel like something between you has changed and sadly not for the better. 

But she can't know. 

"I hate this part," you say, making absolutely no move to avert your gaze. 

Yelena is startled when the doctor's arms become trapped in the bear trap belly mouth of the "man" on the table. She quickly covers her eyes and giggles manically, slapping your chest for the vague and unhelpful warning. You realize she's not as close to you as before…

There's 20 minutes left of this movie and you haven't seen a single thing on screen. Yelena stopped asking you questions when you stopped being coherent with your answers. All you can think about is telling her. 

But you can't tell her. She would never understand. You barely understand and it's about you. 

"I lied." Your heart beats in your throat as you see her face you but you can't look at her directly for fear of losing your nerve. "About the science expedition? That's not why I was in Antarctica…" 

Yelena seems to wait for you to continue but… 

"Eh, no offense but, " you gesture with your hand, "I don't really know you like that." 

Yelena gave your reply a single nod. "I suppose that's fair." 

You can't help but fidget in your seat. "Idliketo" 

"What was that?" 

You cleared your throat. "I said… I said I'd like to. Know you like that, I mean…" 

Yelena gives you a smile. "I would like to know you like that, too." 

The movie ends, the biscuits are not burnt but buttery soft and golden brown, and the blizzard outside has subsided some. It's still going but at least it's not buffering the doors and windows like before. 

"How can you watch that film in a place like this?" Yelena cannot get enough of those biscuits, stuffing them in her mouth 2 at a time. "Does it make you paranoid?" 

"Yes it does," you say, putting your coat on, "I think that's what makes it so much scarier–  looking outside and being scared every person you come across ain't who they say they are. Sometimes its not a bad thing though... I think it is rather… poetic, too." 

Yelena's eyebrows furrow. "Where are you going?" 

You put on your boots and hope the duct tape stays on the hole you covered earlier. "Dogs are out in the shed. It's heated and they have food, but not for days and I'd rather have 'em in the house where I can take care of them." 

As you finished your sentence you reached for the door,  but stopped when you noticed Yelena getting dressed too. She gives you a nod as soon as her hood comes up, and you give this brave thing an appreciative once over. 

The snow that nearly all melted before is up to your knees now. Fresh, white, and fluffy. It muffles sound like the world's sidelong turning. The odd snowflake wafts lazily from the sky, but for the most part it's died down. You teach back and take Yelena's gloved hand to keep from staying too far apart. 

"You know I always wanted a dog," she said. She could have said it in a whisper from 100 yards away and you still would have heard her–  that is how eerily quiet it is. 

Yelena squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. She's probably remembering the movie. You try to distract her by saying, "Oh yeah? You can have one of mine then." 

Yelena laughs, then stops. "You serious?" 

"As a heart attack." You finally reach the door to the shed and unlatch the door. A chorus of barks begin and you charge forward to nudge them back to give Yelena space to come in as well. "I do some breeding up here–  just a side job. They're usually working dogs but they can be pets too." 

Buck licks your face from chin to forehead and you push him back. "Down, boy! Show some respect!" 

Yelena has two of the mongrels circling her, sniffing all her clothes and demanding to be pet. "That's Burt, Barney, and Bella. Buck's my stud, but these heathens are going to a farm. They've got sheep to watch." 

Yelena chuckles as her hands get covered in slobber. "I love them." 

They're almost grown, three quarters the height of their father. Buck didn't even look in Yelena's direction because he knows you give him treats. You take your scarf off as the heat of the shed threatens to smother you and search your pockets for jerky.  

"She's in there with the new puppies." You point to a darkened closet. "Don't get too close now, she's still a little protective." 

Yelena creeps closer. You see her look at you from the corner of her eye. Probably terrified by the morphing dog scene from the movie. You give her an encouraging smile and tell her where to find the light. It's a pull cord and it bathes the room in a warm golden yellow light. 

Yelena's heavy, controlled breathing turns into a coo. Mama dog is laying on her side watching the newcomer closely. There's a pup asleep in the nest of her legs, another chewing on the hay that litters the ground, and the last one is biting their mother's ear. Yelena looks back at you with an adorable pout on her lip. 

"So cute…" 

You chuckle and put your arm around her. Buck knows to steer clear of mama dog and slinks off. You make your guest walk closer with you to show mama she's got your confidence. 

"Yelena, this is Beyonce." Mama dog's ears perk at the sound of her name. "Beyonce, this is Yelena. Be nice." 

You reach down and scoop up the hay eating puppy at your feet. "This one's always hungry." 

You put the pup in her arms and scoop up the biter. "This one likes to play. All the time. Got more energy than the blue Energizer bunny actually." 

The pup in question is literally trying to wriggle out of your hands in its eagerness to climb you and eat your hair. 

"And that one sleeps a lot?" Yelena nodded her head at the last pup. 

"Pretty much." You put the writhing excited puppy down before it hurts itself and look up into the rafters. "And then there's the climber…" 

You both turn your heads when you hear a tiny bark. A cute little face stares down at you from the rafters and there's a feather stuck to its nose. You shake your head knowing this pup got it from ripping up pillows in another part of the dog house. 

"Better go get her," you said, not moving an inch to do so.  

Yelena sees your challenge and rises to it. As if trained to do exactly so, she assesses the wooden interior for foot and hand holds. You can see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates what will and won't support her weight. In the sweep of a single moment, she rises from the door and swings herself into the rafters using a build up a momentum to propel her fast in an upperward direction. She completes the climb and balances with ease, reaching out to collect the happy wagging miscreant from her mountain top, tucks her in her jacket and climbs a different way down. 

You stare at her. "Were you raised by trapeze artists?" 

Yelena laughs. "I thought everybody was." 

The pup is safe and happy and eager to explore its new friend. Yelena lets her lick, sniff, and scratch at her skin, her clothes, her hair. The pup catches Yelena with a tiny lick right on the tip of her nose and Yelena looks back at you with adoring eyes. 

You smile. "Got a name for her already don't you?" 

"Yes," Yelena whines, "no, are you sure about this? I should probably tell you I've never had a dog before…" 

"I can tell your good people," you reply. "And smart as a whip. You'll adapt, just call me if you ever need anything." 

~

Three weeks later you get a phone call from an unknown number. It's Yelena giving you an address and making you swear never to tell anybody about it. You don't have any friends so it's an easy secret to keep. 

You drive a few miles south and stumble upon a stationary trailer in the middle of nowhere, nothing but clearings and trees and sky. Actually very similar to your own home. 

The door opens and Yelena greets you with a beer and the pup under her arm, already almost a foot bigger than she was before. 

"Her name is Fanny." You both laugh yourselves hoarse and pile into the trailer to puppy proof the place. 

[sabraeal]

All Pain Will Turn to Medicine, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

There are ways sickness leaves its mark on a house.

Stale air, for one. Shirayuki could explain the benefits of proper ventilation until she turned blue herself, but the windows are always shuttered when she visits, rooms left dark and stagnant, as if the sickness might simply go away so long as the neighbors don’t hear.

An untidy house, for another. Dishes left teetering in the wash basin, clothes laying heaped in their basket, never put away. Dust over every surface, settling like dew on the grass, with only fingerprints left to prove anyone lived there at all.

Poor fools, Anda muttered, when he’d taken her on her first rounds. You and I know that taking care of the sick is work, but these people, they don’t. They’re always trying to do two jobs at once with half the care and half the thanks.

Lastly, was the smell.

It hits her as a wall when Suki pulls back the curtain: urine and sweat in equal measure, the scent of a body unwashed and bedding unchanged. The stench of the sick, Anda called it, always accompanied by a sniff and the quivering of his cane. He never stayed long in rooms like these; blood he could handle aplenty, but these long, wasting illnesses-- they left him shaking in the night, calling out wordlessly for a comfort she’d never been able to give.

Herr Bauer hardly resembles himself; gone is the fleshy man who stood at Shou’s counter, letting his granddaughter count out pennies. Skin hangs off his bones, wrinkled and yellowed like old parchment. He doesn’t even stir as she enters, his snore thin and wheezing as she comes to her knees.

His skin is papery when she takes his wrist in her hands, counting heartbeats. “How long has he been like this?”

“Days now,” Gen grunts, scowl scouring brackets around his mouth. Suki’s a friendly girl, she always has been, but her husband’s only gotten sourer with each daughter. He’d keep those lines one day, just as his father had, and never lose them no matter what joy he found.

If he ever found some. Shirayuki can’t help but think it unlikely, the way he glowers. “Can’t get up, barely eats. Says nothing tastes right, even though Suki makes everything the way she always does.”

She frowns, letting his arm settle back on the pallet. Herr Bauer huffs, shifting restlessly, and turns his back to her. His undershirt sticks there, the thin fabric clinging like a second skin, nearly translucent stretched across his back. A gnarled hand reaches back, itching absently at his shoulder blade, and there--

“Hah.” Shirayuki squints, leaning closer, making out a patchwork of thin lines, pink and raised though not quite angry yet. They would be, given time. “Has he been scratching at himself more?”

There’s been more than a few nights in these past years where Shirayuki has spent the night on this very floor-- first to bring Suki’s daughters into this world, and second to keep them there, when croup struck the quarter hard this past winter. And even still, Gen’s never quite warmed to her, never quite believed her to be Anda’s equal once he stopped following her on her rounds.

And it’s all the more apparent now when he looks at her, flat as a sheet and twice as coarse. “All old men scratch themselves.”

Anda may say taking care of the sick is work, but between the two, taking care of the well is harder. It takes a deep breath and a determined cheerfulness for her to answer, “I meant, is he scratching himself more? Complaining of discomfort, maybe?”

It’s consternation that fouls up his brow, impatience that makes his mouth rumple into that scowl. “Just going on about his joints, the way he always does. Nothin’ special.”

“Well now, just the other day he’d been saying his ribs hurt,” Suki offers, coming in with a handful of cloths, wrinkled but laundered. It’s not something Shirayuki needs-- not yet anyway-- but it’s a kind gesture, one she takes with a soft smile and a grateful nod. “He asked me if a grandpa could have sympathy pains, since he--” she flushes, looking younger, almost like the girl Shirayuki remembers from the market square-- “well, he’d thought something must be kicking him from the inside, the way he was aching.”

Gen stares at his wife, all accusation. “He didn’t say anything to me!”

“That,” Suki informs him, real crisp, “is because you ain’t known for your listening.”

“Hey now--”

“Thank you.” Shirayuki pitches her voice loud enough to be heard, hoping it’s enough to stem the tide until she gets out the door. “That’s very helpful, Suki.”

She settles back on her heels, slicking away sweat with the back of her wrist. Gen barely allows her a breath before he presses, “So what is it? You got something he can take?”

“Ah...” Her teeth clack together, not quite gritted, but still on-edge. This is the part she likes least, especially with folks like Gen. “Maybe. Once I talk with Herr Anda, perhaps I could--”

“Oh to hells with that,” he huffs, arms folding over his chest. “Your opinion is just as good as that stubborn old fool’s, and you give it twice as fast.”

Shirayuki knows she could collect flies the way her mouth is hanging open, but she can’t help herself, not when her only thought is, but you’re not supposed to like me.

“Whatever you think is fine by me, Shirayuki.” He grunts, giving her the sort of nod men do when they think all the work is said and done, save for their say-so. “Just give it already. Can’t afford to have him under the weather when the girls need watching.”

Her smile pulls thin, held up by will instead of humor. “There’s plenty of things I could give, but there’s a chance they make it worse as well. Herr Anda is the expert, so I should really--”

Gen snorts. “Come on now, everyone knows you run that shop. Herr just sticks around for decoration. Give him what you think is best and be done with it.”

Her hands shake as she gets to her feet, cheeks hot and skin flushed, but her voice is even-- oh, so even-- when she says, “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Herr Bauer, but Anda is the one between us with the most experience, especially when it comes to--” she hesitates, shuffling through words-- “this sort of thing. I’d rather take my time and know I’m giving your father the right treatment, rather than rush and put him in more pain.”

The Bauers have never been small men, but even sitting Gen manages to loom over her, a dark cloud threatening a storm. Still, he doesn’t speak, doesn’t push; no, instead he sits there and-- and--

Shrinks.

“Gen,” she murmurs, resting a hand on his shoulder. It’s so much larger than she suspects, her hand the size of a child compared to him. “I know you’re worried for your father, but I promise, I’ll have an answer for you by morning.”

His brow furrows, the shadows growing on his face. “Do what you have to,” he tells her, gruff and displeased. “I just hope nothing happens to him while you do your waiting.”

On any other day, Gen’s worry would set her on the shortest path through the quarter; a simple trip down the hill with maybe a turn or two to send her the back alley ways, keeping her from hitting the market during the late afternoon rush. But today, today--

Is supposed to be her day off. Not that a physic ever really and truly gets a day off; there’s always the chance there will be measles and babies and broken bones-- a hundred emergencies, all guaranteed to cut a good time short. Or worse, a good night’s sleep.

But still, with Herr Anda manning the shop, the afternoon was supposed to be hers.  And so when she comes to the crossroads, Shirayuki’s feet lead her down the longer path, the one that will take her round the river and over the quarter’s bridge. Might as well enjoy what little time she can eke out from the wreckage of her plans. Once she gets to the shop and gives her report to Anda, it’ll be a long time before she has any time so carefree as this. Not when all her own answers are so...unfortunate.

Her hands give both her cheeks a steadying slap. There’s no point in worrying like this, not when Anda’s the one who will make the call. He’s the one who’s seen these things before, the one who always has some tip, some trick to see her through her worst storms. And yet, yet--

Cleverness can’t fix everything. He’d told her that, not more than a year past now, when Herr Kino died from the cough that’d been going around that winter. We all have our own time. All we do is stall the inevitable, and sometimes it takes.

Shirayuki purses her lips, fingers knitting in her skirt. That’s not what she wants to do, to just...stall for time and set her hopes on the odds. But that room hadn’t just smelled of normal sickness; there was a sweetness beneath it, something far too close to rot for her comfort.

There’s no reason to keep thinking about it, not when she’s already made up her mind, but still, she worries at it, the way a dog does a bone. It’s easy to question herself like this, alone with only her footsteps for company. With one stride she’s certain, and the next she falters, over and over again, an endless argument she can never seem to close.

A terrible state to round the corner in, especially when it’s Obi she finds hunched over the bridge. He stares down at the river like if he does it hard enough, it might give him answers. She could use some of those herself, if only to find the right words to say to close the distance between them.

“Are you waiting for a golden fish?” she asks haltingly, her hands gripping her skirts to keep from shaking. “I hear they grant wishes, so long as you don’t ask for too much.”

His head rolls, chin tracing along his collarbone until he marks her from the corner of one sullen eye. “Is that so? I always heard they made good bones.”

Shirayuki approaches him slowly, one step at a time, the wood grain worn smooth from a thousand hands as she lays her arms on top of it. There’s no hunching for her, but their elbows brush, the way they often would. For a moment, it all feels like it’ll be all right. “Why are the magical creatures always eaten in the stories you tell?”

She means to rib him, the way he’s so fond of teasing her, but when he laughs, there’s no humor in it. “Because where I come from, there’s nothing we do better than ruin a good thing.”

It would be easy to speak, to tell him that there’s nothing ruined, that nothing between them could ever be ruined, not by something so silly as Rina Kramer and her ridiculous ribbons. It’s always been her firm opinion that it’s none of her business who he walks out with; what she even knew came third- or fourth-hand, rumors bandied about by the old gossips when they came to roost at the kitchen window, looking to Oma for a good cup of tea and some hospitality. They all would smile behind their hands, talking louder when she walked through the kitchen, as if they could get a rise out of her with just a bunch of names and speculation. But she’s always known just where she stood with Obi; he could roll the whole town, but it was at Oma’s table he sat when she came through the door, her window he knocked on whenever she had a day free. But now, now--

Nothing is ruined, but the girls he’d stepped out with before had all been his age-- older, in a lot of cases, especially once word got around he knew how to kiss, and then later, that he knew what came after. And that all had made sense to her; it wasn’t like he could think of

her

like that, not young as she was. But Rina Kramer used to sit in front of her in the school room, those long ribbons spilling over her slate, obscuring her copy work until Rina deigned to flip her hair. She’d only been one year ahead of Shirayuki, the best speller in the class, her hair always tied up in the most complicated twists and braids, the sort Oma could never do with her aging hands.

Fancy

, the boys had called her, and she’d looked it, clean and bright and perfect.

Shion Bauer sat in another row; the boys had picked on her for her big eyes-- cow eyes, they’d laughed, big and wet and stupid-- but in that year before they’d gone to apprentice, cow eyes turned alluring, all dark and dewy and fringed with thick black lashes. She’d stayed on in the school room, meaning to be the next mistress when Herr Hoffmann retired to the country with his daughter. A threat he’s yet to make good on, but Shion’s kept on as an assistant of sorts-- she’d only been two years her elder, but Shirayuki still remembers how Shion smelled like sweet grass when she bent over her shoulder, showing her how to long divide.

She’s never wanted to be one of the girls he made time with behind stockroom shelves or in empty hay lofts, but that he’s letting their time bleed into her time...

It feels pointed, is all.

“I heard your day got cut short.” Obi’s got big hands, long and callused on the mounts, and one of them lifts, rubbing at his shoulder. The bad one, though as far as Anda’s concerned it healed right, even if something about Obi didn’t. “Got stuck going ‘round to Gen’s place, huh?”

She nods, small and tight. “Herr Bauer’s taken down with something. Suki thought I might come take a look.”

Obi cranes his neck, leaning close enough that she can see every thread of color running through the gold of his eyes, green and brown and black all together. His mouth twitches, but there’s no humor in that, either. “That bad, huh?”

“Ah, no, it’s not...bad.” The lie would be more convincing if she didn’t flinch telling it; as it is, Obi only grows curious, one eyebrow inching up his forehead. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be something bad. I’m probably just seeing shadows in sunshine today.”

His gaze skitters back to the river, his hands balled to to fists to the rail. “Wonder why.”

It’s little more than a breath, but Shirayuki still hears the words sagging, dragged down by the reproach he lades them with. Not for her, but for himself, laying blame on his back like a carter might his mule. If she gives him half the chance, he might even whip himself like one too, for not carrying it well or silently enough.

It’s hard to speak when she’s so aware of him, when she can account for every inch of space between their bodies. It’s usually so easy to stand beside him, her body and his fitting shoulder-to-shoulder like lock and key, but today she’s all knees and elbows, practically blurting out, “How did you hear, anyway? I thought only--”

Her teeth clack shut, painfully hard. Only Pavo knew, because Pavo had been there, his shirt half open and his-- his particulars half-hard as well. Because she-- because he--

“Pavo told me.”

For the first time in her life, Shirayuki truly understands how a palpitation could stop a heart. “W-what?”

“After I got myself-- er...” Obi coughs into his shoulder, the tip of his ear a painful red against his black bristle. “I thought I might head up to the pond, see if I couldn’t catch up with you. But I met Pavo on the way.”

Her palms prickle, fingers stiff where they clench the rail. It’s impossible that Pavo could have said something-- that he would have. Not after that first summer, when Obi spent more of his waking hours being her shadow than in the shop, glaring at him every time he passed. They might have become fast friends after harvest, but if he took up with all that love making mess as he always did--

“You’re going to ask Anda about it?”

She nearly jumps clear over the rail, only her white knuckles keeping her on the dry side. “A-about what?”

He blinks real slow, the way Pavo does when she talks about tinctures. “About Herr Bauer.”

There’s something in the way he says it, the smallest hint of incredulity wrapped in resignation, that gets her hackles up. Her heels clack as she pushes away from the rail, loud in the air between them. “Of course. He’s my mentor, why wouldn’t I want to ask his--?”

“Hey now.” Obi holds up his hands, eyes wide behind them. “I don’t think there’s any reason for you to be getting sand in your craw over that, Miss. I was just asking. Simple curiosity.”

She deflates, the fight going right out of her sails. “Ah, I’m sorry, Obi. It’s just...Gen asked the same thing.” The derision on his mouth fouls up her own just thinking about it. “He clearly thought I shouldn’t need to.”

“But you don’t, do you?” Obi doesn’t so much walk away but unfurl, each piece of him peeling away from the rail until his warmth radiates in the space between them. “You pretty much run the place, I think Anda wouldn’t mind if--”

“That’s not true.” The words rush from her too loud, too desperate, and she turns that energy into forward motion, setting a brisk pace toward the market. “I may do most of the rounds, but that’s only because it’s better for him to not put so much pressure on...”

His leg. The injury from the war, the one he’s never deigned to let her look at, no matter how bad his hobble. The same one that keeps him up at night, moaning a hundred names into the dark. He may pretend as much as he likes in the morning, but Shirayuki can see the bruises that bleed onto his cheekbones and the darkness in his eyes.

“I don’t know why Suki came to me when Anda was still at the shop.” There are places where her chemise sticks to her skin, damp with sweat, and yet her arms still wrap tight around her, as if that might stop her sudden chill. “If she’d gotten him, he would have been gone and done in half the time, leg or no.”

It’s unfair how much length these past few summers have given Obi; no matter how quick her steps, he keeps pace, not hurried in the slightest. Her breath huffs, but his is steady, unstressed, even when he says. “You know, people like you quite a bit. A lot better than they like Anda.”

“That’s--” unfortunately, undoubtedly true, and he’s earned every bit of it. She gnaws at her lip, a strange restlessness rushing up her legs and tickling her palms. As if she has too much limb and not enough to do with them.

“Well,” she tries again, slowing enough so that her breath doesn’t come faster than her words. “I suppose between the two of us, you could say I have the better bedside manner.”

Obi snorts. “It’s more than that. Anda’s been taking a step back the last year or two, letting you take on most of the work, especially outside the shop. You’re the face everyone sees, and it’s a nicer one than the old man ever showed them.”

“You know his leg bothers him,” she snaps, defensive. “He can’t be going around town all day on it, letting it get--”

“Hey, hey.” His shoulder bumps hers-- or rather, his arm does, luring her right into his grin. “I know Anda’s a spry old fart, and if you let him I’m sure he’d be all hither and yon, but I’m just saying...maybe he’s getting ready to pass on the torch. Not like he doesn’t know that leg of his gets worse by the day.”

More like ‘gets worse depending on the day;’ some mornings he’s hopping around the storeroom, giving her enough guff to tip the scales of her patience, and on others he can hardly rouse from his bed. But that’s not what captures her attention, oh no.

“Pass the torch?” She blinks. “He’s hardly fifty, Obi. He can’t possibly be thinking...”

Herr Hoffmann had hardly been older when he started making noise about moving to the country, and Opa-- ah, well Opa would have traded in his bar cloth for a fishing rod long ago, were her father still alive. Only this morning he’d complained about a creaking back, about how this heat always did in his knees, and maybe wouldn’t she go and find herself a nice man today who knew a good draft when he drank it. She’d laughed, and Oma had crowed, you got a few good years left in you yet, my love, but still--

“Do you think he’s found someone then?” There hasn’t been anyone new past the shop lately, but Anda had always been a private man; she wouldn’t put it past him to keep correspondence to simply letters until it was time. “Maybe there’s someone from the palace...?”

“Found someone? From the palace?” Obi blusters through a laugh, eyes crinkled at the corners. It’s strange how much she wants to touch them, to feel the physicality of his joy, but instead she just curls her hands in her skirt and looks away. “Of course he’s found someone, half pint. You.”

She blinks. “M-me?”

“Yes, you.” His mouth twitches even as he tries to hold it steady, that spark of mischief in his eyes. “You know, his apprentice?”

“Ah, but that’s-- that’s not right.” She shakes her head, trying to loose the knot in her throat. “I’m not-- I’m no trained physician, not like Anda is. I can’t possibly-- he wouldn’t--”

“Why not?” Obi’s head cocks like a crow’s, curious and sharp. “He’s the one training you, isn’t he? Most of the quarters out there make do with some half-taught healer, and some are lucky enough to get an herbalist with even a handful of schooling. Even if you never see the inside of one of those academies, you’re twice the doctor any of them will ever be.”

But she could be better. Without formal schooling, she’d never be as good as Anda, and to leave the quarter with less than it started, to be the reason some of these folk died when they could have lived--

“He wouldn’t-- he couldn’t leave the shop to me,” she insists, nails digging into cotton. “I’m not ready. This isn’t like-- like you and Shou. I can’t just inherit the shop, I’d have to be--”

“Woah, woah.” Fear sits stark on Obi’s face, his eyes so wide she can see the white around them. “I’m not the one inheriting anything. That’s for whatever’s in Seyha’s belly. I’m just...extra hands.”

In the fading sun, the bakery’s window glimmers. Not in the way treasure does in Oma’s stories, but the way the air wavers before the ovens, too hot and just right all in one. Like it had that night when Obi pressed his nose to the glass, eyes so wide they could have been stomachs themselves. He’d watched Shou pull loaves from the oven so hard it was as if he could devour them with his eyes alone, filling what was empty in him.

And Shou had seen him there, a creature more gaping mouth than boy, and understood. The same way he did now, standing at the door of his shop, great head sweeping from one end of the street to another, the furrow in his brow knotting tighter with each body that passed him by. It’s impossible to guess how long he’s been there, sweat beading at his brow and eyes squinted against the sun, but it’s her eyes he meets when they turn the corner, his shoulder easing back down to his collar.

Her hand lifts, a smile ready, but he turns before she can get higher than her waist, stepping inside without a glance back. Extra hands indeed.

“Obi,” she starts, bracing herself as they idle in front of Anda’s door. “I think--”

“IF YOU EVER LEARNED TO OPEN YOUR EARS, EVEN ONCE, MAYBE YOU MIGHT--”

Her teeth grit down, thoughts all in a jumble, and it’s Obi who sighs, “Is that my place, or yours?”

“Ah...” Her fingers tighten on the door. “I think it might be--?”

Her weight pushes the glass the slightest bit ajar, and-- “I DON’T RECALL MAKING PROMISES ABOUT ANY SUCH THING, YOU--”

“Hah.” Obi shakes his head, the tension in his body dropping like leaves in the breeze. “Well, have fun with that.”

“What?” Shirayuki reaches out, trying to grasp a sleeve, a belt loop-- anything that might keep him planted here, next to her. “You can’t just leave me alone to--!”

“Can--” he plucks her one lucky catch from his sleeve, giving her fingers a squeeze before he slithers free-- “and will. Have a nice night there, kid.”

It does no good to glare at his back; oh no, that just puts a spring in his step and whistle on his lips for good measure. But there’s nothing else she can do, not unless she means to go inside, and well...

Shirayuki winces, easing the door open. Obi may make slink seem like a word applicable to more than just cats, but she could walk as quiet as she liked and still Anda would call out from the back, as if she made no effort at all. So when Shirayuki enters the apothecary, it’s with the heavy air of a criminal at the block, braced for the blade.

It’s silent inside; not the quiet of an empty room, but of a whole house catching its breath, caught between words. She barely has time to catch her own before there’s the telltale clink of a cane against the floor, a sound that only abates when Anda emerges from the storeroom, flushed and hunted, his hands thrown into the air. “Can I not get a moment’s rest in my own home, woman? Or will I need to hobble to the privy to get some peace and quiet?”

For a moment, Shirayuki could believe he means her-- almost, since Seyha emerges from the dim behind him, eyes blazing and hot on his trail, despite her belly. “You were never such a fool as--”

Her long fingers reach out, snagging his sleeve, but he pulls away, whip-quick. That injury might slow his steps, but the rest of him is sharp, turning like a blade as she reaches out again, determination honing her already cat-like reflexes. Fingertips brush his sleeve--

And then snatch back, Seyha’s mouth and eyes going wide as she catches Shirayuki’s gaze over his shoulder. “Finally, Shirayuki-ya!” she gasps, eyes rolling heavenward. “Maybe you can talk some sense at him. He certainly won’t hear it from me!”

Her skirts sweep past him, moving toward the door with all the dignity-- and offense-- of a queen. One with a bit of a waddle now, but somehow it doesn’t detract from the effect.

“You have to have sense to give it,” Anda snipes at her back. “And gods above and hells below know you weren’t given the same considerations as an ass!”

The noise Seyha unleashes from her throat isn’t so much a rumble as an earthquake, shaking Shirayuki right down to her toes. But she doesn’t turn, not one inch, her spine painfully straight as she replies, “Well, you would be the expert on asses, now wouldn’t you?”

The sign on the door clatters as it shuts, leaving Shirayuki alone with its echo.

“Finally,” Anda mutters, looking less pleased and more peeved to see the back of her. “Quiet.”

Shirayuki means to speak-- her mouth hangs open and everything, breath caught up in her throat-- but the door flies open, and oh, how Anda’s face lights. “This isn’t over, you know.”

“Of course not, you harpy!” His hand raises, like her neck sits in the space between his fingers, and clenches shut. “The only thing that could free me of your nagging is the sweet release of death!”

“HA!” One of her fingers snakes out, waggling. “You wish it would be that easy!”

There’s a quirk to Anda’s lips as they open, the sign of a particularly creative bit of nastiness behind his teeth, but the door slams before he can deliver it. It fouls up his mouth instead, rumpling like a piece of paper in the bin.

Shirayuki gives a quick look to the sign, still set to OPEN. “Do you want me to--?”

“Do not.” Anda holds up one trembling finger. “Get involved, girl.”

“Ah, I...wasn’t.” It’s a strain to smile, letting her head jerk toward the door. “I only thought...the sign?”

“Ah...” He clears his throat. “Right. Go ahead then. Don’t need anyone else sticking their nose into my business either.”

Shirayuki hardly needs to be told twice; it’s a relief to put her back to him, to be able to avoid getting in the middle of whatever muddle the two of them have gotten themselves into. So much so that she takes the time to flip the lock too, letting herself have an extra breath--

“You know,” Anda grouses, hobbling to the counter. “I thought she had married Herr Beck, and yet somehow she’s over here every day nagging me, as if I’m the one she shackled at the altar.”

--and sighs. So much for that, then. “You know that Seyha--”

“I said,” Anda snaps like a pulled shade, “do not get involved.”

It would be rude to tell him that she learned long ago not to put herself between their barbs, not unless she wanted to feel twice the sting. Instead she busies herself with straightening the counter-- a chore Anda only bothers with if it’s custom making the mess, not the proprietor-- letting a strained silence settle before she tries, “Meister--”

He eyes her over the till, warning heavy in every glance. “What did I just say?”

Her hands wave, trying to clear the air between the, “Ah, it’s not about Sey-- that. It’s about Herr Bauer.”

“Herr Bauer?” He blinks, cane tapping idly on the floor. “Is that boy giving you guff again about knowing more about his staff than he does? He couldn’t find the tail on a pig, let alone--”

“Ah, no, Gen is--” stubborn as a mule and twice as unpleasant-- “not the problem. I meant his father.”

Anda’s brow furrows. “Goro? Didn’t I see him only a few days ago, right over at the bakery? Seemed fine, from what I saw.”

Shirayuki takes a deep breath, setting her hands flat on the counter, as if that might somehow keep her steady. “Unfortunately, that’s no longer the case.”

For what felt like a saga’s worth of an afternoon, it hardly takes any time at all to give Anda both the broad strokes and gritty details of Herr Bauer’s condition. Through it all, he’s silent, a steady presence across the counter even if his mouth tightens as she comes to the end. “And what do you think?”

“It’s his liver.” It surprises her how firm she speaks, how authoritative. The way Anda is on a visit, once the door closes behind him. “Hepatitis, maybe. Or...another ailment, perhaps. But I worry...”

He waves at her, quick and impatient, urging the words out of her. “Well?”

“He’s never shown much sign of it before, has he?” Her teeth worry at her lip, wishing there was some loose skin to gnaw on, if only to give her something to do. “And he’s not much of drinker, considering.”

“Considering how a good half of his lot imbibe like fish?” Anda lets out a harsh hah. “Not saying much. Still, you’ll see stranger things on a job like this. I can teach you all the best knowledge the king’s college has to offer, but at the end of the day, sometimes all you have is your gut.”

“That’s a poor substitute for education.” Shirayuki shakes her head, ponytail sweeping over her spine. “Didn’t you always tell me that more mistakes were made by men who thought they knew better than the ones who came before them?”

Anda grunts, running his hand through the peppered thicket of his hair. “We all reach a point where the learning gives out, and we have to fall back on what feels right. You have to trust yourself.” A warm weight perches on her shoulder, tentative yet firm, and it takes a moment of her fully staring down, right at the callused fingers clutched there, to realize it was Anda touching her. “Especially you, girl. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, sure enough, but you’ve got even better instinct. That can make the difference between a patient and a corpse.”

“A-ah...” It’s a point she’d argue if it came from any other mouth, but Anda is hardly in the practice of giving advice he hasn’t earned the hard way-- or compliments. “I suppose...if you say so...”

“I do. Shirayuki...” He sighs, letting his hand fall back to his side with a shake. “How are you going to run this place if you have to come talk to an old man every time it gets hard.”

Shirayuki stares. “Run...?”

“Don’t get any fool ideas, girl,” he sniffs, waving her off. “Not any time soon. You’re nowhere near ready. But one day you won’t have me over your shoulder, giving you all the answers. Don’t forget that.”

“I...” She licks her lips, only to find her mouth is incredibly, impossibly dry. “I won’t.”

He grunts, giving her a firm nod before he hobbles past. “Good. Now go off and get what you need for Herr Bauer. No need to keep that man in pain now that you have your plan.”

“Ah, right!” His nod goads her into action, scurrying behind the counter. She shuffles at the stockroom door, almost unsure of what to do with herself. “I’ll get it ready now and drop it off first thing in the morning.”

“Good enough.” Anda hesitates on the first stair to his loft, looking back to tell her, “You can stay here tonight, if you like. It’ll take a while to brew up that tincture, and there’s no need for you to go all the way home in the dark. The Bauer place is closer here anyway.”

Maybe by a few steps, but Shirayuki knows better than to look Anda’s charity in the mouth, at least for too long. “Right. I’ll-- I’ll do my best.”

His mouth may not move more than it takes to open it, but his eyes crinkle at the corners.“That’s all I could ask.”

She turns back to the stockroom, taking in a deep breath of mint and nettle--

“Eh, hold up there, girl.” A stair creaks under Anda’s weight as he shifts around to look at her. “Didn’t I give you the day off? How is it that Suki Bauer even found you out on that lake?”

“Ah...” It’s terrible to be caught like this, pinned by her master’s gaze like a specimen to a board. “Er...”

Anda lets out a huff, chest puffing up as proud and as red as a robin’s. “That boy didn’t stand you up again, did he? I should go right on over there and give him a piece of my mind. That woman’s giving him too free a rein if he thinks he can waste your time--”

Ah. She slumps against the jamb. So much for keeping out of their scuffle.

It’s just as Anda said: by the time she’s done measuring and grinding and sifting and brewing, the moon’s already gone behind the rooftops, casting the cobbles in forbidding shadows. There’s no reason she couldn’t go home; there’s hardly any safer streets for her than these, but still-- she collapses into the spare cot before she can do much more than take off her stays, dropping into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

When she wakes, it’s with a shake, Anda’s sour expression hovering above her.

“Get up, girl.” His voice is rough from sleep, burred and bleary. “Your friend is here.”

She blinks, rubbing sleep from her eyelids. “O-obi?”

His mouth puckers. “No, not him. The cow who’s always in here having another girl.”

That gets her upright. “Suki? Is it Herr Bauer? Is he worse?”

“No.” He rises from her bedside, cane clomping across the floorboards. “It’s her husband. Seems he’s fallen ill too.”

“O-oh.” Her stomach churns, but there’s no time for regrets, not when there’s work yet to be done. “Tell her...tell her I’ll be right there.”

[littlemissnoname13]

Wisps of Smoke (Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader) - Part four

Summary: Y/n and Draco find themselves drawn to an abandoned classroom every night

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader ft. Pansy Parkinson, Theo Nott, Blaise Zabini

Warnings: Excessive smoking, Drinking, mature language and themes, sex, masturbation, 18+ content, reader discretion is highly advised

A/n: as always, thank you for reading WOS. This story has gotten so close to my heart over the last few weeks of writing it and I am grateful for every one that read part 1,2,3. And to everyone who guessed the Astoria plot line, Damn ya’ll are too good! 

I’d like to stress that smoking is injurious to health.

Word count: almost 4000

Part One, two & three if you haven’t caught up already

Thursday (Continued)

With his palms resting flat on the shower wall and his grey eyes fixed on the floor below, Draco allowed the lukewarm water to trail down his body and calm his nerves. 

Between the restlessness he’d felt after his father’s visit and the stinging feeling of remembering just what was expected of him, he’d barely managed to sleep a wink for three consecutive nights.

And how could he have gone to sleep when he knew you were in that classroom—waiting for him in your silky little dress. 

Oh..wait a minute. 

He smirked to himself when he remembered that he had destroyed the top half of your dress in an attempt to tug it off your shoulders. 

You looked absolutely stunning with the bottom half of your dress pushed back as you spread your legs wide open on top of a classroom desk—he had fucked you so fucking hard that day. 

Draco wrapped his hand around his length and began to pump slowly as he recalled the way you wrapped your legs around his torso as he moved in and out of you.

Your moans. 

He wondered if you were even aware of the effect your moans had on him. 

The way his name slipped out of your cherry lips and the way your tits bounced with every thrust only made him want to drive deeper into you. 

He let out a sharp grunt as he started to pump harder, fantasising about all the places he’d fuck you in.

He’d press you up against the shower wall and push himself deep into your cunt from behind, he’d lay you down on his desk and eat you out till you were a quivering mess before driving in and out of you, he would bend you over one of the common room sofas and fuck you so hard and fast if he ever got the chance to. 

He’d make you cum time and again till you were sore and dripping with his release—fuck. 

Draco let his high take all over him for a brief moment before opening his eyes when he heard his dresser drawer creak. 

He dismissed the strange sound and washed the remaining soap from his body before stepping out and towel drying his hair. 

“Draco! Y/n is here to see you.”  

Astoria? What on earth is she doing here? This can’t be good.

He frantically wrapped the towel around his torso and stepped outside the bathroom.

“Y/n what are you doing here?” He asked, observing the eye bags under your eyes. You were wearing a loose fitted white shirt with the sleeves pushed back and the top two buttons undone.

If Astoria wasn’t gaping at the exchange between the two of you, he would have had you pinned against the wall already. 

“I—I Just—” you began but before you could reach the end of your sentence, Theo jogged up to his door and stood right next to you, panting.

“Oh, you’re all here.Good.” He said with excitement saturated into his voice. “Apparently, there’s a party this Saturday night in the room of requirement and we are going—I am not taking no for an answer.” 

“That sounds like so much fun.” Astoria grinned and looked at Draco expectantly,making your stomach twist.

“It’s not like we have a choice.” Draco muttered still looking at you while Astoria beamed at him. 

“So, Y/n you were saying something?” Astoria politely turning the conversation back to you.

“I actually just came in here to talk about the party too.” You lied looking Draco directly in the eye.

Friday

Even though you were walking to class while bumping into a sea of students, your head was somewhere else. 

But of course Malfoy was sleeping around with other girls!

How could you have forgotten?! Maybe he was shagging Astoria outside that classroom the other nig—

“Going somewhere?” Draco asked as soon as he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into a gap in the corridor. 

“Yes, Away from you!” You spat angrily. “And I don’t appreciate you lurking around, pushing me into a wall every chance you get.”

“I just needed to talk to you y/l/n.”

“About what? Your girlfriend?” You blurted, instantly regretting your decision.

“She is not my girlfriend.”

“Oh yeah? Then what is she?!” 

What you heard next made the ground crumble from beneath you and you couldn’t help but wish you had paid more attention to your mother’s letters—especially the one about the announcement at the New year’s ball. 

~~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~

Dear Y/n,

Your father and I are looking forward to having you back home for Christmas. 

It will give us some quiet family time before the New Year’s Ball hosted by the Malfoys. I’ve heard it through the grapevine that young Malfoy is getting betrothed to one of the Greengrass sisters and they will officially be announcing the betrothal that night. 

Isn’t that absolutely fantastic?  

Let me know what sort of dress robe you’d like to wear to the Ball this year. I will make necessary arrangements. 

Send my regards to Adrian. 

Love,

Mum

~~~~~~~⚜️~~~~~~~

Saturday

Vodka always tasted unpleasant to say the least. In fact, it burned. 

But it burned a lot less than the burn you felt watching Astoria reclining against Draco across the room.

Vodka always gave the worst type of hangover and with every gulp, you knew you were on a steady path to a regretful morning after. 

But the morning after drowning yourself in unadulterated vodka shots was better than watching the soon to be Fiancé of the boy you were slowly harbouring feelings for wear his blazer on top of her silver sequinned dress. 

What kind of a deranged person gets jealous over someone that was never theirs to begin with?

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the ridiculously attractive blonde boy dressed in all back, knocked back a few shots and happily accepted Pansy’s hand as she pulled you to the dance floor. 

One minute you were jumping around with Pansy, Blaise and Theo and the next minute, you were seeing nothing but pitch black darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Firm arms gripped your waist as you staggered back to your room after blacking out at the party. In all honesty, the person walking you wasn’t much help either with his bloodshot eyes and unsteady footsteps. 

“You— you shouldn’t have walked me to my room.” 

“I know.” Draco said simply as he watched you walk shakily up to your door.

“Go back to the party Draco.” You said with your voice wavering as he slowly inched closer and closer to you till you were firmly pressed against the door. “You know you shouldn’t be here right now.”

“I know.” He said once again before pressing his own Firewhisky laced lips with yours. “I know.” 

Maybe it was the intoxication, maybe it was the way he held firmly onto your waist as his tongue collided with your own but you used your wand to unlock your door with your mouth still attached to his. 

Both of you entered the room bumping into furniture, leaving a trail of clothes all the way to your bed.

Sunday

“What is happening to this world again? Can someone please walk me through?— I am simply too hungover right now.” Pansy groaned, scratching her head as he opened the door to your shared dorm with Theo and Blaise right behind her. 

Having partied all night long, all three of them were too tired to make sense of the scene in front of them. 

“Yeah, I thought Malfoy was with Astoria now.” Theo scratched his chin at the sight of your head on Draco’s chest as you both slept. 

Pansy’s eyes widened when she heard Astoria’s name as she quickly ran inside the room. 

“Wake the fuck up you idiots.” She yelled using her wand to draw away the curtains making Draco groan as the morning light hit his eyes. 

“What’s all this ruckus about.” You mumbled snuggling closer to Draco as your eyes slowly opened to see a glaring pansy accompanied by Theo and Blaise. 

“I have invited Astoria up here to hang out with us, so both of you have a lot of explaining to do before she gets here.”

Monday

“So let me get this straight.” Theo began, as he took a long drag from one of Draco’s cigarettes. “Both of you have been fucking around—traumatising poor Blaise for the last two weeks, correct?”

Draco rolled his eyes, scoffing as he lit up another cigarette while you shrugged. 

The four of you were at the astronomy tower, reclining against the railings as the day faded away into a chilly winter evening. 

“And you two claim that you are not together, correct?”

At this, both you and Draco turned to look at each other—as if questioning each other about the status of your relationship. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You finally said, slowly breaking eye contact with Draco. “He is getting betrothed to Astoria anyway.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Pansy asked, her face barely visible from all the smoke she was exhaling. 

“Never been better.” You lied, reaching for a cigarette for yourself. You placed the filter end in between your lips and lit it up, inhaling quickly. 

The second you did, tears automatically started to stream from your eyes as you started to cough. 

Draco shook his head and turned to you. 

“Here.” He muttered taking a step towards you, before taking a deep drag from the cancer stick in between his fingers. 

With his free hand raked inside your hair, he pulled your face closer to his until his lips were barely touching yours.

“Inhale y/n.” He murmured, as wisps of smoke left his lips and entered yours. 

You were too preoccupied by his proximity to notice the gagging sounds your friends were making beside you. 

Tuesday

On your way to the library after class, you heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy right outside the dungeons. 

He was going on and on about a ring and how irresponsible Draco was for not getting one made already. Christmas holidays were nearing and Lucius was sure Draco would tarnish the Malfoy family name by not having a ring made on time.

You simply didn’t understand why the Malfoy’s couldn't just use an old family heirloom but you decided to not question it as you walked past them—watching the tired and defeated expression on Draco’s face.

Wednesday

Draco lay on his bed, fiddling with an oval cut emerald ring with the letter “M” engraved on the back of it. The ring had been with the Malfoy women for generations and he simply could not picture the ring on Astoria’s fingers. 

And even though he had no say on his betrothal, he wanted to have a say on the ring and so he had insisted on getting something else made for Astoria. 

But the last two weeks had gone by in a matter of seconds so he did not find the time to, and could not even be bothered to go and have another ring made.

He had known about his impending engagement since the beginning of the year. He’d taken Astoria out several times but he knew there was nothing to that relationship besides sex and chaste kisses on the cheeks exchanged during family dinners.

He didn’t really mind at first, everything felt fine and he simply craved the validation of his father. 

Draco was doing just fine before you came along. 

Sure, life was a little lacklustre. The sky wasn’t as azure, his morning coffee wasn’t as aromatic, and cigarettes were simply means of deteriorating his lungs.

But now, things had shifted a little. 

He felt happier than he had felt in a really long time.

Just as he was opening up his drawer to put away the family heirloom, you knocked on his door—looking breathless. 

“I’m sorry but I overheard your conversation with your father and I think I might be able to help.”

“Huh?” Draco asked, tilting his head,watching you as you grabbed his left hand and dropped a shiny Amethyst ring in the palm of his hands. 

“I had it made for my birthday last month.” You shrugged, it’ll help you keep your father off your back till you get another made.”

If he hadn't fallen in love with you already, he surely did in that particular moment, as he pulled you into his arms, desperately crashing his lips on top of yours. 

Fuck validation. 

Fuck everything. 

Fuck everyone. 

Thursday

Your back firmly pressed against his bare chest—his heart beat calm and steady. 

Draco had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he possessively pulled you closer to him the way he always did. 

That is how you had woken up. 

Cuddled up with him in his incredibly snug and comfortable bed within four walls enclosed with the smell of bourbon, mixed with the smell of soap, sex and his absurdly expensive cigarettes. 

Even with your eyes still shut, your lips couldn’t help but curve upwards when you felt his breathing gently tickle the back of your neck. 

That is how you had woken up that morning and you honestly wouldn’t mind waking up like that for the mornings to come. 

“Morning Y/l/n.” 

His raspy and deep morning voice sent shivers down your spine as his soft lips came in contact with the spot right below your ears. 

“Morning.” 

He continued to sensually suckle and nibble that particular spot and you suddenly found yourself wanting to be suckled and nibbled on other places. 

“Draco.” You hummed pushing yourself further into his embrace. There was something so fulfilling and satisfying about the way you fit into each other's embraces. Entangled arms, limbs and all. 

The hands that were wrapped securely around your waist now trailed upwards until they found your breasts. 

The feel of his hands taking their own sweet time—softly kneading your sensitive flesh was enough to have you writhing against him 

He made sure to take his time and give equal attention to both your breasts, using his slender fingers to pinch and tug at your hardened buds till you were pushing your hips further back towards him—craving friction, any type of friction really. 

“Easy now.” He lazily whispered into your ear as you started to grind your hips urgently against his erection aching to feel him inside of you again. 

You were empty and missed the feeling of being full but he was nowhere near done with worshiping your breasts—making you restless and impatient with each squeeze. 

“Draco.” You tilted your head backwards and sighed into his neck.“I—I need you to fuck me. Please—I just want to feel you inside me.” 

Draco let out a small chuckle at the directness of your words.

If someone had told him that the same girl that tried to hex him so many times in the past would be saying that to him, he would have told them to get themselves checked at st. Mungos. 

“Relax Darling. I’ll take take of you.” He murmured before trailing his lips down your neck and towards your shoulder placing mellow and relaxed kisses all the way. 

“Draco please.” You whined, grinding your hips harder—desperate tears threatening to leak out of your eyes when you felt his hand on your hip, slowing you down. 

“That’s it. Such a good girl.” He whispered encouragingly into your ear as you let his hands guide you—moving your hips in excruciatingly slow circles against him while he resumed kissing your neck and bare shoulders. 

“Atta girl. Yes that’s it. Keep doing that.” 

His kisses were a stark contrast to his lustful, ravenous and angry kisses from the previous night and the kisses only left you craving even more.

“Please Draco—Fuck me. Please just fuck me.” 

“Look at you, begging for it.” He said in a hoarse whisper as the tip of his cock made contact with your already soaking wet folds and all you could do was let out a muffled moan into your pillow. 

The tip of his cock only slipped halfway inside of you before he pulled out again, teasing.

“You’re dripping wet.” 

“Draco..” you whined.

“Tell me darling, who made your pussy this wet?” 

“You did. Draco Lucius Malfoy—Only you.” 

He loved hearing you beg, he loved it only second to the way you said moaned his name and so he finally entered you allowing his cock to completely stretch you out and fill you up. 

With his perfect teeth bared, Draco peppered kisses onto your shoulders, nibbling gently as he rocked his hips at a slow but steady pace—all the while mumbling sweet nothings into your skin about how well you took him, and how good he felt being inside of you.

The way his skilled hands tugged, twisted and pinched your nipples made you feel an other worldly sort of pleasure—causing you to whimper and moan his name,moving your own hips, trying to feel him deeper inside your walls.

“Shhhh—easy there.” He whispered against your neck. “Just let go.. Focus on feeling every inch of me buried deep inside your pretty little cunt. Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded and stopped moving your hips and used  one of your arms to hold onto his neck as you relaxed into him. 

“That’s it y/n, Just like that.” He coaxed, running his hand up and down your body before firmly resting on your hip as he fucked you nice and slow. 

There was something different and unexpected about his thrusts, something strange and foreign about the way he used his thumb to rub slow and sensual circles on your clit.

“You feel so good y/n. Your pussy feels so amazing.” 

Your moans muddled into one and his movements rocked the bed as he made love to you, pushing you closer and closer towards your orgasm. 

“Fuck—Im so close.” You moaned, burying your head deep into the pillow as Draco picked up his pace pushing his cock in harder and deeper with each thrust. 

“Oh fuck. yes Draco..yes.” You moaned as he dug his nails onto your hips forming crescent shaped indentations as he pushed himself deeper, hitting just the right spot over and over again, making your walls clench up. 

“Draco…” 

“Cum for me, Angel. Cum with me.” He groaned,making both of you ride out our highs till his warm seed spurted deep inside of you. 

When he pulled out of you, some of the warm liquid had already managed to seep out of you and trickle down your inner thigh.  

After taking a brief second to catch his breath, Draco shifted lower into the bed till he was in just in between your legs. 

“I could get used to waking up like this.” He smirked looking up at you. His platinum blonde hair was slightly wavy and kind of fluffy, falling on his forehead but not yet covering his stormy greys. 

“Like what?” You teased. 

“Don't play with me y/l.n.” He warned with a wicked gleam making the grey hues in his eyes brighten into a brilliant. It felt like his eyes changed colors from blue to grey according to his moods. 

“I could get used to waking up like this too.” You said softly as he tried to push back everything that had managed to trickle out. 

Right before Draco could even reply, his door creaked open. 

“Malfoy, Astoria is waiting for you in the common roo—fuck not this again.” Blaise groaned as you pulled the sheets over your body. 

Friday

On your last evening at school before Christmas break, you found yourself perched on the windosill, nestled in between Draco’s arms and limbs in the classroom that started it all.

The pad of his right thumb traced slow, almost lazy circles on your hand while he held his cigarette in his left hand. 

The lit tip of his cigarette was the same shade as the sunset in the tangerine sky and you took deep breaths to try and soak him and the smoke rings that escaped his lips up because you weren't sure if you’d get to be with him again. 

“What are you doing y/l/n?” He asked when he noticed you breathing in and out. 

“Nothing.” 

“Please.” Draco chuckled, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You have that look on your face.”

“What look?” you asked, turning your head to look at him—the way the last rays of the setting sun caught up on his eyelashes only making you fall harder than you already had.

“This look y/n.” He kinked his eyebrows and tried to mimic your expression. “This is the look you have on your face wherever you are up to something—like  when you try and fix your failed potion in Potions class. Actually, you even make this face when you mix sugar into your tea.” 

“Im just—” You clicked your tongue in frustration. “I’m just going to miss this, I guess.” 

Your words made his expressions soften because he understood. 

How could he have not?

He had spent the whole of last night watching you sleep—the way your chest was rising and falling, the way your heart was beating against his.

He had spent the last hour trying to store the scent of your fruity shampoo deep inside his memory banks because he wasn’t sure if there would be a next time. 

“Let’s stay back at Hogwarts”  He mumbled, pulling you closer to him. “It’ll just be us, it will be good.”

“If only.” You sighed as you rested the back of your head at the crook of his neck. “But I have to go back home and explain the whole situation with Adrian and you…” 

Both of you went silent for a bit. 

“Give me your hand y/n.” He finally broke the silence as you turned around and  looked at him quizzically. “I want to give you something.”

You turned your body around so you could face him better. The strong winter breeze blew his hair towards his eyes, making you want to reach up and push those stray hairs away. Instead, you simply placed your hand on his. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You rolled my eyes at him before squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Are they closed?” 

You nodded and you felt him slip something onto your finger and you quickly  opened one eye to take a peek and It didn't even take you a second to realize he had slipped an emerald ring from onto your finger.

“Draco. I really don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes shut.” He snapped. 

“But I can’t take this.” 

“I owed you a ring y/n.” He said holding your hand in his to look at the ring on your finger making a type of warmth spread over your entire body. “Keep it till I get the other ring made.” 

You simply stared at the ring unable to form words with your mouth until you felt him shift beside you as he got back up to his feet. 

“Don’t overthink it y/n—I’ll see you at the ball.” 

You hummed as you quietly watched him walk away from you, ignoring the stab your felt in your heart with every step he took. But before you could process your emotions fully, Draco turned on his heel and walked towards you— instantly cupping your face in his hands. 

“Draco what are-”

His lips ardently crushed yours before you could even finish your sentence

There was an abrupt kind of finality in the way he moved his lips against yours. It was like he was kissing you for the last time . 

“I’ll be thinking of you y/l/n.” 

To be continued..

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

Part 5 teaser:

Draco’s features softened as he slowly shifted and got up from the reading nook in his bedroom to fully open his window.

You shielded yourself as cold drops of rain started to hit your face. “What in the actual fuck?”

“Shut up and follow me.” He said as he climbed out of the window and onto the ledge.

“Are you mental?”

“Just do as I say.” He said helping you onto the ledge.

Both of you laughed hysterically as the rain seeped through our clothes as you sat on the ledge with you bare feet dangling in the air.

One wrong move and both of you could fall to your respective deaths. But there came an adrenaline rush with the risk of it all.

___________________________

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Love,

V

[raeynbowboi]

Dating Disney: Beauty and the Beast

Beauty and the Beast features my favorite love story and my favorite Disney Princess, so it holds a very special spot in my heart. So, it’s worth looking into the film to decide when the Movie is supposed to be set.

During the opening musical number “Belle”, Belle is telling the Baker about the book she’s been reading. She’s clearly describing Jack and the Beanstalk, the earliest version being the tale of “Jack Spriggins and the Enchanted Bean” in 1734. But she also deliberately mentions an ogre, not a giant. Near as I could find, the only version with an ogre was written by Joseph Jacobs in 1890, making Belle nearly contemporary to modernity. Belle’s excitement over the book is likely a sign that this is a new story.

During the same musical number, we see a sign depicting a tobacco pipe, but unlike with the Calabash pipe from the Little Mermaid movie. I could place it to possibly be a Billiard type, but the exact era of creation escapes me. However, tobacco pipes have been around as long as Tobacco has been introduced to European trade, starting in the 16th century.

The history of colored printing goes as far back as the 16th century, and there are illustrations from the early 1700s with an impressive variety of color that help establish a stronger time period. The book also shows the words Le Prince Charmant or Prince Charming. Prince Charming started being used in 1697 in Charles Perrault’s version of Sleeping Beauty, although there, Prince Charming was not a name. Rather, Perrault stated that the Prince was charmed by her words. The first story to use Prince Charming as a name is the Tale of Pretty Goldilocks. It was written at some point in the 17th Century by Madame d’Aulnoy, but in her version the hero was named Avenant. It wasn’t until 1889 when Andrew Lang retold the story that Avenant was dubbed as Charming. One year later in 1890, Oscar Wilde used the term “Prince Charming” sarcastically in his novel “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, meaning that the term had gotten its more modern meaning by this point in time.

Gaston’s musket is a Blunderbuss, which was invented in the early 1600′s and remained popular through the 18th century before falling out of fashion in the middle of the 19th century. However, considering Belle states that this is a backwards town and Gaston is an old-fashioned, Primeval man, it’s possible he’s using a largely outdated weapon.

While there are no street lamps in the city, we can see in the background lanterns on the sides of buildings, which might allude to the movie taking place before the invention of gas lamps. However, gas lamps were invented in 1809, and if the version of Jack and the Beanstalk is from 1890, then by all accounts the town should have gas lamps. What this amounting evidence is leading me to believe is that the film is directly following the plot of the original fairy tale.

In the story, Beauty’s father is a merchant who loses his fortune due to a storm destroying his cargo. They’re forced to live on a farm until the merchant stumbles upon the Beast’s castle and kick starts the plot. In the opening song, Belle says “every morning’s just the same, since the morning that we came, to this poor, provincial town.” This could mean that she grew up in a much more modern, urban, and progressive town. Possibly even Paris. But that after Maurice suffered severe financial trouble, he was forced to move them to the small, backwards town that was practically living an entire century behind the rest of France, which is why she’s so bored and unimpressed by the little town. It helps explain why she’s so eager to want to get out of this town and see the world. She wants to be part of the modern world again.

Interestingly, I can support this theory with background information. According to some of my research, Belle’s village was based on the little town of Riquewihr, France, which still looks like it did in the 16th century to this day. So the idea that Belle’s little village lacks so many modern elements could be a nod to the architecture of this sleepy French village that has remained largely untouched by the march of time. Hence why it looks more like something out of the 1700s despite the many elements from the 1800s being present.

During the song “Be Our Guest”, Lumiere dances with a match stick. Match sticks were invented in 1805. Assuming the film still takes place in the 1890s, this would be concurrent with the other evidence we’ve seen thus far. Later in the same song, the silverware makes an Eiffel tower, which was constructed in 1889. Since Jack and the Beanstalk was written after that, it still fits within the suspected time frame.

During the climax of the battle, Cogsworth is wearing military garments reflective of Napoleonic styles. Napoleon was coronated in 1804 until 1814, had a brief return to power in 1815, and eventually died in 1821. So this is also congruent to the established time period.

In the Youtube Video “Fashion Expert Fact Checks Belle from Beauty and the Beast’s Costumes” by Glamour, April Calahan, a Fashion Historian from the Fashion Institute of Technology directly noted that Belle’s yellow gown lacks the shape of a proper 18th century dress, and more closely resembles the shape of 19th century dresses, fitting into the evidence that’s been mounting in support of a late 19th century setting.

As a part of his primary costume, Lefou wears a waistcoat and tailcoats, which came into vogue in the 1800s, namely from the 1840s through the 1850s.

But if the film is set in the 1800s, how can the Beast still be a prince after the French Revolution? Well something worth noting is that when he finds out that Belle isn’t coming to dinner, the Beast storms through the halls to her room as Cogsworth calls after him as “Your Eminence” and “Your Grace”. The address of “Your Eminence” is reserved for Cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church, and is an ecclesiastical style of address. “Your Grace” is noticeably an English style of address, but it’s being used by Cogsworth who is British, so I can chalk that up to just part of his culture. Although it was used for British monarchs, it fell out of use during the reign of King Henry VIII (1509-1547) and after that, the use of “Your Grace” became used to address archbishops and non-royal Dukes and Duchesses. Now clearly the Beast is not a cardinal or a bishop, especially if he is looking for the love of a woman to make him human, since it’s forbidden for Catholic priests to marry. So clearly that is not what is meant here. But the other answer actually does hold a bit of weight. Beast’s father was in fact, a Duke. So how is the Beast a prince? He’s not. Not entirely. See, there’s more than one kind of Prince in French nobility. There’s a Prince du Sang, or a Prince by Blood. Effectively, the Crown Prince, the sons of ruling monarchs. But the title is also given to lords in charge of a Principality, one of the smallest territorial sizes. The Beast’s principality probably only extends to having power over the little unnamed village. And with it being after the revolution, Beast might not even have the proper use of his title anymore. He’s effectively a rich kid in a fancy house with no real authority or power. He’s just old money from a by-gone era of human history. But if Beast’s address of “Your Grace” is accurate, that would mean that he’s a non-royal Duke, meaning he would not likely have been executed during the Revolution, as his family would have essentially been governors or senators than actual monarchs. They just had jurisdiction over a small piece of the Kingdom of France and reported back to and obeyed the orders of their King. Thus, he would not have been important enough to be killed or chased out of power by the townsfolk.

CONCLUSION

The movie is set between the late autumn and early-to-mid winter of 1890. Although the snow is gone when Belle returns to the village, the trees are still bare, signaling that it may just be unseasonably warm, though it could be the very early spring of 1891 between the receding of the snow and the blossoming of new spring foliage. Between the books, clothing, and references made, my conclusion is that Belle is a very modern girl living in a backwards little town stuck in the past, thus why a village in 1890 looks so completely lacking in modern technology despite the era. The Prince is nothing more than a fancy title as the son of a Duke, and he likely has very little if any actual government authority. Essentially, Belle married into wealth, not power, and will never be a proper queen, and I’m not sure if the wife of a lord ruling a principality is a princess or not, but I suspect the answer is no. Making Belle, like Mulan, a Disney Princess who did not marry royalty, was not born royalty, and thus, cannot be called a Disney Princess. She’s definitely a noblewoman, but she’s not royal by any means.

SETTING: Riquewihr, France

KINGDOM: The French Republic (France)

YEAR: Autumn, 1890 - Spring, 1891

PERIOD: The Third Republic (1870-1940)

LANGUAGE: French

[shatouto]

YOUR BABY VADER IS SO GOOD I NEED TO GIVE HIM ALL THE HUGS. please tell me he gets like. a weighted blanket or soft clothes. or! or! or! anakin and obi-wan go to the market because nobody knows that anakin was vader, and anakin gets some nice clothes in pretty colors and theyre very soft and he gets some ingredients for cooking and droid parts to play with and everything is nice and good for him

GOSH thank you!!! aww i love that idea sO MUCH just reading your prompt makes me feel warm fuzzy inside. im not sure which baby vader you’re referring to (because there are so many of them in my wips and i love it) but i’ll assume this is the au ive been writing with @obiwanobi. so pls enjoy this near 2k of tooth-rotting fluff; i took some liberties

who likes sweet things

The clinic smells like bacta, as clinics do. But instead of sterile durasteel walls, the floors are carpeted and the walls are painted and the windows are curtained and everything is multicolored and joyful. Across from Anakin sits a healer - a kindly woman, very small in stature, with large, gentle eyes, wispy hair and pointed ears. She chats happily with Obi-Wan while working in tandem with the medical droid to secure the prosthetic to Anakin’s elbow.

“...disheartening, isn’t it?” She chirps, her three-fingered hands deftly fastening bolts around the cap and manipulating the droid to screw down the simple plating. “I can’t count the number of innocent civilians who have come here to fit a new limb. Just last week, I constructed an entire exoskeleton for this young lady. Poor girl, so young.”

“That is so good of you. I am glad for the young lady to find you. She came to the right place.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Those of us who have some sense all know Healer Saada’s prostheses are of the highest quality in all of Coruscant.”

“Ah, young man. Flattery gets you nowhere. Have you learned nothing as a youngling?” Saada shakes her head at the Jedi, then turns her great eyes to Anakin, ears perking. “And you. You’re a rather quiet boy, aren’t you?”

Anakin presses his lips into a tight, blanched line. This woman may not be a Jedi any longer, but she is not Force-blind. He glances to Obi-Wan, breaths bated.

Obi-Wan rests a hand on his shoulder. “He’s quite shy, Healer Saada. Please do not worry.”

“Oh, poor thing.” The healer hops onto a moving droid. It rolls towards the counter, where she sorts out some bottles while asking, seemingly in an absent-minded manner, “Where did he come from?”

Anakin catches his gaze the moment Obi-Wan looks at him. Obi-Wan parts his lips, as if ready to lie.

“Tatooine,” Anakin mutters.

Astonishment freezes across Obi-Wan’s face, and Anakin turns away. The admission isn’t for her, though he supposes he doesn’t mind her knowing. She’s just a person. She doesn’t even know his name, or what he has done, or what the dead Sith Lord has made Anakin do to earn his demise. Obi-Wan does.

“So far away!” the healer comments lightly, turning around with a soft smile. “What a great trip you must have made.”

“Indeed he did. He lives here now,” Obi-Wan clarifies. Anakin opens his hand, and the healer places a stretchy ball in it. She instructs him to practice squeezing it to get used to the new artificial limb, before sending them off.

They exit the clinic and out under a vast starlit sky. Gentle winds whirl overhead as they climb into their speeder, heading for the usual park where Anakin takes his walk. The night has gotten cold, yet the darkness is unusually diluted. As they pass by downtown, music wafts up alongside the scent of butter and frying oil. Anakin looks down to see a sea of lights over a town square, and colorful awnings draped over kiosks of all sorts. There seem to be many people there, eating, laughing, hand in hand. He eyes them closely, fingers tightening on the side door of the speeder.

“It’s a celebration, Anakin,” Obi-Wan supplies, as they come to a stoplight. Anakin turns around, and his heartbeat ratchets up when Obi-Wan reaches over to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.

“What are they celebrating?”

“Harvest season. It’s an old tradition, I’ll give you that. Coruscant barely has a greenhouse on it, let alone agricultural land.” Obi-Wan chuckles, then quiets down into a thoughtful smile. “Though I suppose the election result is as good of an occasion to celebrate as any.”

“Election?” Anakin asks, just as they pass by a great billboard with the face of a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman in a night-purple cape. The speeder is going slow enough for him to decipher the words written beneath it. Obi-Wan keeps saying he’s a fast learner, so he tries to read at every turn. “Chancellor… A-Ame…” He frowns. “Amidala?”

“Very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle at him for a second before returning to the path ahead. “Padmé Amidala is the new Chancellor now. It was a rather close call. She is well-loved by many people, but not quite so in the Senate.”

Half of those words mean almost nothing to Anakin. “Why?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan hums. “One could say the Senate hasn’t been loving its people so much, in a while.”

Obi-Wan grows pensive, as he oft does. The faint, warm light from below and the cool starlight from beyond color him in an otherworldly tint. His profile is startlingly delicate, from the slope of his nose to the soft fluff of his whiskers and beard. Even the flutter of his lashes is graceful. Then Anakin remembers he shouldn’t stare. His eyes strays towards the bright lights and jovial music beneath.

“...But I am hardly brave enough for politics,” Obi-Wan muses, after a stretch of silence. When he looks Anakin’s way it is with some tiredness in his small smile. “Say, Anakin. How would you like to stop by the night market, for a change?”

They lower their altitude as soon as Anakin nods his agreement. Obi-Wan parks their speeder, draws up Anakin’s hood, and takes his right hand. Anakin’s synthetic nerves light up, even though it’s only enough transmission for him to feel touch and not warmth, it being a very standard model of prosthetic. His face warms up under the hood of his cloak. He’s glad Obi-Wan doesn’t notice.

They let themselves be carried by the stream of the crowd, of parents jogging after excitable children toddling about with sweetmeats in their hands, sugar on their cheeks; of young couples, one’s arm around the other’s waist, sharing bites of fluffy sweet bread or sips of mulled wine. Light shines golden and amber through bottles of syrup and jars of honey, glitters on the crystal sugar and drizzled glaze on heaps of candies in open boxes. The smell is divine whenever they pass by a warm stall with steam bannering overhead.

Anakin shivers lightly, even though the crowd blocks most of the winds. Obi-Wan tugs at his hand. “Let’s get you something warm.”

He follows Obi-Wan. A paper cup is pressed into his hand, ample and warm against his skin. The drink smells and tastes sweet with a note of toasted bitterness, the texture creamy and rich on his tongue. There are floating white chunks of some sort of confectionery in there.

“What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate.” Obi-Wan raises his identical cup and touches it to Anakin’s. “Do you like it?”

”Yes,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan’s smile warms his belly more than any hot drink.

They continue on their path, still a straight line from one end of the market to another. Anakin’s wide eyes travel from stand to stand: here a string of patchwork puppets, there a counter of carved wooden figures; and perfume vials, colorful figures (“It’s artisan soap, Anakin”), bouquets of everlasting tissue flowers tied in silk ribbons. There are clothes: soft robes in various colors, touted as “warm in winter and breezy in summer,” per the merchants; tunics with blossoming patterns embroidered at the collars or sleeve hems. There are kiosks of datatapes, illustrated by sparkling holograms of a High Republic castle, or a great speeder model, or even some holodrama character whose name Anakin can’t remember.

And then a booth takes his breath away. Glimmering under the light are shelves after shelves of mini household droids, custom-made transmitters, and a variety of artfully wired core processors. Replacement parts bathe in the blue glow of holograms depicting the corresponding droid models; and below all of this is a row of toolboxes of gleaming silver and shiny ivory, even iridescent inlays of mother-of-pearl. The booth seems to be one of a kind in the vast entirety of the market.

Anakin stands, transfixed. His fingers itch, and one of the tools begins to quiver and lift into the air, unbeknownst to the seller who has his back to it. He wants it. The thing will be his.

“Anakin? Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s hushed voice rustles by his ear, jolting him back to his senses.

The tool drops down with a small clang, barely audible in the noises of the festivity. Fear bursts coldly in Anakin’s chest - he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, his Master would be very unhappy if he found out his young foolish apprentice had tried to waste his time playing with droids again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, bowing his head, even as Obi-Wan squeezes his hand.

“Do you want that?” Obi-Wan asks, softly.

Anakin peeks up. The empty paper cup is still slightly warm in his hand, and he crushes it absentmindedly, tightening and loosening his fingers just to have something to do. “I, uh…”

Obi-Wan’s hand covers his own, gently prying the crushed paper cup out from the curl of his fingers. “I would love to get it for you, if you want it. It’s the toolbox on the bottom shelf, second from the left, isn’t it?”

The light on Obi-Wan’s smile is a honeyed gold, pooling stars into his eyes, and Anakin is transfixed again, not quite by the tinkering booth this time. He looks down as his face warms and his heart still pounds hard, and slowly he nods.

—

They come back to Obi-Wan’s quarters with a small armful: a new set of robes in muted, ashen pink; a box of tools with carved handles that are probably more fancy than they need to be, but still practical enough; a new array of spices and condiments; and a great tin of “absolutely decadent powder for drinking chocolate, Anakin, I can’t believe I let you persuade me into buying this.”

“You are the one who likes sweet things,” Anakin counters, arranging the new addition into their pantry. Obi-Wan laughs aloud by his side.

“Now how could you possibly know that?”

“I cook. I know that.” Anakin shrugs, and admits, “...and Ahsoka said so.”

Obi-Wan’s brows shoot up. He’s quiet for a few seconds, but the wide smile that follows only seems all the more brighter for it. “Best friends now, aren’t you?”

“No,” Anakin huffs and closes the pantry door. He doesn’t say more. Ahsoka gave him her old voicebook plug-in and lent him her comics; in exchange, he would pack her this spicy meat stew whenever she needed to leave for some time. They struck a fair deal, is all.

Obi-Wan doesn’t say more, either. They settle on the couch, Anakin almost rushing to fish out the toolbox from its paper bag. Finally having two hands to work with again, he examines it with zeal. It’s a good set of tools, he knows it; he hasn’t been allowed to touch these things for years, but he still knows. It’s in his blood. He can still wire standard circuit boards for protocol droids (the slightly outdated type) with his eyes closed; can definitely assemble a cleaning-type mouse droid from scratch if he’s allowed to scavenge for parts. He smiles down at the lacquered handles and the durasteel glint, picking up and balancing each microscrew, each hexagonal wrench, each tiny plier.

“...I hope it was enjoyable for you,” Obi-Wan speaks up, all of a sudden.

Anakin turns to him, not bothering to wipe off his smile. “It was.” He chews on the inside of his cheeks. “I’ve never had so many things. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan studies him for a long moment, more intent than he ever did. By the look on his face, Anakin expects him to say many things, but he doesn’t. He just pats Anakin’s elbow, where the prosthetic is joined, and murmurs, “You’re welcome.” His eyes have a moist sheen to them, smiling though he is.

[everlarkficexchange]

Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed. 

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock! 

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

  The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

  I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

  Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths. 

  It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then. 

  Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird. 

  They were starting to scare me, really.

  “There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?” 

  “Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

  “You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?” 

  The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if  we have no victim,”

  “But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

  “Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

  Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

  I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

  Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

  I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy. 

  Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it. 

  ———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down. 

  Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed. 

  Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy. 

  I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site. 

  I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

  I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it. 

  Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground. 

  Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him. 

  Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb. 

  My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated. 

  He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg. 

  The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me. 

  I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

  I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers. 

  The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

  But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’. 

  Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty. 

  I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell. 

  With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone. 

  I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster. 

  Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

  “Get out of there, Seam brat!” 

  I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door. 

  A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

  I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason. 

  Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face. 

  A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!” 

  The boy scurried by with his head down. 

  My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction. 

  I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck. 

  When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!” 

  Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us. 

  “No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

  Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while. 

  When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

  Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways. 

  All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg. 

  While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me. 

  After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow. 

  “Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

  “You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

  “I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

  I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

  After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot  something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless. 

  ——————-

  One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise. 

  A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare. 

  I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

  “Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was. 

  From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin. 

  “I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly. 

  “Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

  I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy. 

  “My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

  “Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

  I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion. 

  Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes. 

  I felt smug and satisfied. 

  I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk. 

  “Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe. 

  “It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

  Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

  I nodded. 

  “So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

  “Same.”

  He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,” 

  Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!” 

  I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game. 

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it. 

  He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them. 

  Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama. 

  My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability. 

  He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

  By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd. 

  Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly? 

  Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me. 

  I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

  One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

  “Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh. 

  Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed. 

  “Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

  I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world. 

  I nodded.

  Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,” 

  Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.” 

  “Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

  “For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

  “Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?” 

  Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body. 

  “Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

  I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

  Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

  From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage. 

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

  The other girls hummed their yeses. 

  “Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!” 

  There were gasps all around. 

  It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

  I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

  “What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody. 

  I wasn��t much for gossip, but even I had to agree. 

  ‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with. 

  “Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

  A big “Oh!” Swept the room. 

  Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all. 

  Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them. 

  Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on. 

  “That’s awful!” Said a girl.

  “I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

  “I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

  “Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

  “Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one. 

  I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker. 

  Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?” 

  My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

  “Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

  “Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

  “It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

  “Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises. 

  I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate. 

  Still…

  “No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning. 

  “Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

  “Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly. 

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals. 

  The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

  It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me. 

  Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily. 

  Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain. 

  It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too. 

  We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.  

  It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup. 

  Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me. 

  I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone. 

  “There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me. 

  “I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate. 

  Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address. 

  After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe. 

  Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

  “What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears. 

  Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit. 

  First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself? 

  “Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

  I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest. 

  “What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

  Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered. 

  “He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.” 

  I turned 16 that spring.

  I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back. 

  I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

  “Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

  After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass. 

  “And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

  “That’ll take weeks!” 

  “Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!” 

  “Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

  “What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

  “Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

  I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

  “I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

  I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes. 

  Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

  I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody. 

  I gasped. That had never happened before. 

  “How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically. 

  “Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

  I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly. 

  “What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

  One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there. 

  Whatever happened, was bad.

  “Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced. 

  “No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot. 

  Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad. 

  “Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

  Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,” 

  “We’ll see.”

  The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by. 

  “Look!” Gale shouted. 

  A shaky “D12” appeared under my message. 

  A relieved gasp left my mouth. 

  “District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

  Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2” 

  We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him! 

  I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

  The answer came back faster. “S H”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned,  “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

  “Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

  The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such. 

  “Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

  “He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

  Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

  That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

  “Mmm… asking has been working so far,” 

  “Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,” 

  “You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

  “Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

  “There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

  I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,” 

  “You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

  Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

  “YES    NE”

  “North East! I told you it’ll work!” 

  “Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

  “K”

  With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district. 

  “Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!” 

  There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy. 

  “Anybody here?” I called again.

  A weak cough answered in the distance. 

  I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone. 

  “Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me. 

  “Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

  I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks. 

  I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

  “Well, don’t step on me!” 

  I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain. 

  I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue. 

  “Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

  “I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

  My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way. 

  “How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

  “Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again. 

  I was momentarily frightened.

  “Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,” 

  His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?” 

  I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

  “Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

  Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree. 

  “And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice. 

  He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

  It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional. 

  “Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

  “Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

  Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly. 

  I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,” 

  He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…” 

  “Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

  “I’m so tired, Katniss,”

  “I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

  “I can’t go back to my house though—“

  “You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely. 

  I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming, 

  “Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated. 

  And that was that!

  ——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

  My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline. 

  “My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

  “Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer. 

  “My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

  “That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

  “After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

  Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away. 

  “What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

  “The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple. 

  I caressed his arm to sooth him. 

  He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

  Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

  “How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius. 

  Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

  Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?” 

  “Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head. 

  “Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers. 

  Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?” 

  “I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

  “Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

  “The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

  The officers stared at me, flabbergasted. 

  Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me. 

  Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers. 

  “Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook. 

  “Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

  Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!” 

  “No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

  “It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,” 

  Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

  “‘kay.” 

  “Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly. 

  Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

  We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned. 

  I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

  “Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

  I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which. 

  “So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string. 

  I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods. 

  “Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

  “Like the sunset,” he finished for me. 

  Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already. 

  He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,” 

  He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”  

  My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,” 

  “Thank you for finding me,”

  “Thank you for leading me to you,”

  We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

  “Katniss…”

  “Mmm,”

  “We are soulmates.” 

  I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

  Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,” 

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff. 

  “If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

  “It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips. 

  My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course. 

  “Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed. 

  After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief. 

  I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had. 

  “I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

  “I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

  He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

  “Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

  When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up. 

  “I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie. 

  “Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed. 

  “Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?” 

  I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness. 

  The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement. 

  Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons. 

  Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants. 

  Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help. 

  The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure. 

  The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope. 

  It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

  Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves. 

  “I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once. 

  After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18. 

  Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips. 

  On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control. 

  My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul. 

  After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

  “You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

  “Real.”

  He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?” 

  “Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

  “Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH3

one // two

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff.

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // Just a quick one to say a massive thank you for the 800 of you have chosen to follow me and my work! I’m absolutely over the moon and once again I am filled with so many emotions that I don’t know how to process, so once again thank you, frim the bottom of my heart 💕

You were gasping for air, begging to have a moment to let out your sultry moans as the power of your orgasm washed over you. After a gentle shower together earlier, George pulled his old Gryffindor sweater on you, and it lit a fire inside him that was fuelling high, after high, after high, fucking his girl possessively into his sweater, until you were an absolute mess for him.  Only when the garment had served its purpose did it come off again. These were the things George wished he could brag about to his mates, he wished he could quip back when they were talking about how good their sex life was, he wanted to be able to boast about his ability to make you cum over and over again for him. But a part of him was glad he could keep that a secret because he didn't want anyone else picturing your sweet little moans other than him.

The rise and fall of both of your chests as you lay in George's arms, naked skin pressed against each other. Your eyes were still glazed over, still blissed out as you traced small circles on his chest. His large hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly, as he mumbled soft words of praise as his lips pressed into your hair. "You did so good for me princess, Such a good girl for me, what can I get for you? Tea, water, a snack?" 

You pulled him closer, leg still wrapped around his as you did. He was the one who was good to you, this was the intimate side of George that nobody else saw, It made you feel special, unlike you'd ever felt before. "Can we have tea, baby?" he hummed simply, moving to go make it, you whined wanting to pull him closer. "Take me with you." you pouted, making grabby hands at him, he rolled his eyes, still smiling at how needy you could be, as he went to pick you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as you sat attached to his hip.

"Cherry says I have to kiss Fred at the launch." you mumbled, as you heard him flick the kettle on. He sat you up on the counter as he looked at you with all seriousness. "You don't have to do anything you aren't ready to do." he stated it so quickly, turning around to grab some mugs from the cupboard and place them by the kettle. When he faced you again his hands were on your thighs, he caught your lips in a sweet kiss, hoping to brighten your spirits.

"She's your publicist, not a dictator. You're your own person, baby, You set the boundaries." He was so understanding, because he knew there was nothing he could do about the fake relationship between his brother and yourself. It was the one thing out of his control and he'd learned to let it go. He was resting his forehead against yours, just staring into your eyes lovingly, no words needed between the two of you as he waited for the water to boil. He made the tea for you both, carrying the cups upstairs, following behind you as he marvelled at how classic abs beautiful it was to see you walk up the stairs while naked.

Like usual, George woke up early for his shift at the store, today however he climbed back into bed, fully suited and booted for the day, to give you a kiss and a cuddle goodbye. You grumbled as he tried to pull away, "Please stay, Daddy, I need more kisses." he groaned, flipping you over so he could pin your shoulders to the bed, his hair hung in front of his eyes, blocking you from staring into his darkening eyes. "Baby girl, if I wasn't late I'd be ravishing you right now." your fingers pushed through his long hair, pushing it out of his face with a cheeky smile, keeping his head in your hands so you could pepper kisses over his face. "Just your fingers quickly, daddy, please" your hips were bucking up, hoping to catch some release. He contemplated it, one of his hands leaving your shoulder so that his fingertips could trail softly over your hip, ghosting millimetres over your clit, before plunging his first two fingers inside you slowly, using a scissoring motion to stretch you out as he felt the inside of your already dripping cunt, your hips were now bucking against his fingers, trying to chase a release, just as soon as he'd started he was pulling away completely from you, getting up off the bed, suckling his fingers into his mouth. "You taste amazing, I want that cunt dripping for me when I'm home, understand?" you nodded eagerly as pressed a kiss to your swollen lips before apparating to the shop with a fast pop, leaving his tired and needy girl splayed out on his bed. 

After sneaking in a small nap, you awoke to get ready for your day, searching through your bag to find the day's outfit. As you squat down, you realise just how sore your thighs are, you were unsure if that was due to a piss poor stretch after last night's training or the last few evenings with George, you laughed to yourself as you pulled your fresh clothes on. You text George, after making the bed, smiling at the love he always showed you. 

<< My thighs hurt today :(( x

>> I'll pick up some gel from the quidditch shop if you want x

>> on the condition that you let me massage it in later ;) x

<< you're a tease, Georgie, I'll be fine x

>> you're a stubborn git, I'll buy you some anyway x

You took the short walk from George's house to Diagon Alley, the slightly bitter wind ripped past your eyes, but the heat of the gleaming sun made it that little warmer. You text Fred to let him know you were on your way. 

<< I'm not too far away, still up for Coffee? Meet me there x

As soon as you'd walked through the entrance at the leaky cauldron, reporters were on your toes, "What are your plans today, Miss L/N?" you smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Can we expect any more kisses from you and Fred?" You Ignored them all as you took the short walk straight towards the coffee shop. 

Inside Fred's office, the man was just pulling on his coat when George stood in the doorway. "I have a preposition, Freddie." the older twin nodded, waving his hand to allow his brother in, George shutting the door behind him. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day about swapping and I think it would be cool, you know If you wanted to." George was awkwardly scratching behind his neck, eyes trailing to the floor. "I don't know George, I don't think you'd be able to handle the cameras and the couple thing," George huffed a little, "At least just let me give it a try, what about the product launch this weekend." 

Fred squinted his eyes, thinking for a few moments, "I see what you're doing." he stated, George cocked his head to the side in confusion, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "You do?" Fred's chuckle filled the room, "I can read you like a book George, you want a taste of that relationship life, I get it, it sure is lonely with just your hand." The younger of the two was really biting his tongue to stop himself from spilling six years of secrets. His hands clenching a little in his pockets little, but Fred continued, "I'm off on my date, either way, I think If I butter her up correctly, It won't just be my hand I have to use tonight." Fred was still laughing as he left the office, leaving the door ajar as he swiftly made his way out of the shop. 

George was seething, He didn't often have problems with his anger but today was an exception, He muttered to one of the workers that he would be found in his office for emergency only, slamming the door so loud behind him that the clap reverberated through the whole shop, sending the chatter into complete silence for the moment before the laughter erupted again. 

Fred saw you outside the coffee shop, his hand pressed to your lower back as he pulled you into a hug. Cherry insisted that at least once a week there would be a public date that would allow for some publicity, you decided on the coffee shop more often than not because it was a simple way of of showing the press that you did indeed meet outside of press events and helped to give some form of validity to your fake relationship, he pressed a kiss to your temple as you both waited in line, something that was sure to be captured replayed over and over in at least one magazine or paper tomorrow.  

While you and Fred were laughing over coffee and a shared piece of cake, George was replaying the conversation with Fred over and over in his head. He’d ripped up the order forms, the pieces of paper scattered all over the floor, but quite frankly he couldn’t give a fuck, even if the world right now was ending he’d still be focused on the words that spilt so easily from Fred’s lips. It made him sick to his stomach that his twin simply found you to be so easy that you’d give in with a little persuasion, sure if it was George doing the persuading it wouldn’t take more than a kiss and a look, but with anyone else surely you weren't ready to just sink to your knees and give it all up. George was tapping away furiously on his phone, letting you know exactly how he felt. 

“So, how’s training going?” Fred asked, bringing the coffee mug up to his lips, He’d already scraped all of the cream off of the top and was ready to sip on the sweet caramel latte, Fred’s drink choices were a far cry from what George drank, the one time he’d tried a bit of your festive latte some years ago, he promised to never drink one again, sticking to his simple americanos and teas. Fred however, liked to sweeten up his drinks, especially as it drew into winter, you remember a little blush on his cheeks at the irony of the ginger boy asking for a gingerbread latte. You responded to his question with a small shake of your head and a exhaling laugh, “It’s tough, coach works us hard as always, It’s like Oliver and Hooch combined into one - no rest.” he laughs, shaking the image from his thought “I don’t want to think of anything that puts Wood and Hooch in the same person.” you began to laugh with him, your fingers circling over the rim of the coffee cup. Your phone began to buzz, the first one you ignored, but when they kept coming, you picked it up, looking at the messages.

>> I’m fucking fuming right now, Y/N

>> I wish you were here bouncing on my cock with the door wide open for all of the shop to hear

>> You better call your coach and tell her you won’t be going to practice because you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow. 

>> you’re nothing but a good, pretty little slut for me, aren’t you?

You had to choke down the lump in your throat as you read the messages that were pouring in, getting more and more vulgar as they came. You had absolutely no idea quite what had gotten into George, but nevertheless it made you ache for him. Your stomach felt like it was doing somersaults as you read the latest one. 

>> I’m gonna send you to heaven and back, princess.

>> Remember what I said this morning, I want you to keep that cunt soaked for me. 

You put your phone face down onto the table, taking a deep breath. “Hello… Earth to Y/N?” your eyes snapped up to the man in front of you, seeing Fred waving his hand in front of your face with a laugh. “You okay, love?” You were blinking so slowly, internalising the messages George had sent you, a thousand images of his hands running all over your body, the sounds of harmonising breaths and the feel of open-mouthed kisses against intimate areas of skin. You were squeezing your thighs together out of habit and out of a need for some friction, your mouth had gone completely dry as you tried to croak out a response to Fred. “Oh, yeah, I’m okay Freddie.”

“What was sending your phone off like that?” he questioned, you weren't sure how to tell the curious boy in front of you that his twin brother was telling his girlfriend in detail how he wanted to absolutely rail her, instead opting for a more simple to explain response, “Oh, It’s just Cherry sending outfit ideas for the launch this weekend, you know how she gets…” he nodded in agreement, his hand reaching across the table to hold yours, It was a sweet gesture but something that felt too foreign to be comfortable. “Shall we head back? You offered, spooning the last piece of the cake into your mouth, Fred nodded. 

When you entered the shop, it was too quiet for comfort, you smiled at one of the workers politely as you looked around for any sign of George. When you realised he was nowhere to be seen your eyes settled on Fred who was now shrugging off his jacket, he sighed, as he looked back at you, seeing you lost in your own thoughts once again. His long strides brought him to you quickly, his hands were placed on your shoulders as he stood in front of you. His grip wasn't like your lover's, it was icy and vice-like and for the second time today discomfort fell to the pit of your stomach, It was only when he tilted your chin up and was leaning in that you felt like the coffee and cake that you had eaten was coming back up. Your limbs were forcing you away from the situation as if your fight or flight had just kicked in and suddenly, any ease you once felt around Fred had diminished. 

“Jesus, Y/N, what’s so repulsive about me that you can’t even kiss me!” He was speaking quietly, not wanting to cause a scene, his eyes were glazed over with a sadness you had only seen during the war, he took a deep breath before choking out. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” His words hit you like a tonne of bricks, the whole situation felt like a car out of control and suddenly you were in the driver’s seat, there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop it, you were waiting for the inevitable crash and burn. 

“But I’m not, am I Freddie?” the nickname you gave him suddenly felt like a dagger straight to the chest, or like a chokehold. He’d been winded, because he realised as he watched you storm out of the shop, that the relationship he had with her was simply a show and he was dumb enough to fall for the ruse. Fred was in love with you. 

///TO BE CONTINUED///  chapter four >>>>

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[rein4r1]

Mr. Artiste

Wc: 2.7k

Warning/s: Mentions of possessive behavior

Pairing/s: [Titanic AU] Jean x F!Reader, Floch x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut

Synopsis: Meeting him was like breathing fresh air in her already suffocating life. (Titanic Au)

MINORS DNI

“What is it? A sapphire?”

“A diamond. A very rare diamond, called the Heart of Ymir.” She watches Jean as he examines the exorbitant jewel. “I want you to draw me like one of your Maria girls.” He continues to examine the diamond, clearly finding it’s luxury unbelievable. “Wearing this.” She stared at him and smiled, “wearing only this.”

He did this many times before, drawing different kinds of women not only in Maria but in Rose as well, the place of his hometown. As an artist, women’s bodies were one of the greatest subjects to draw, they were intricate to draw but not intricate to understand. This kind of artwork is often shunned upon by the simplecrowd who were too fickle to understand, viewing this kind of art as licentious. Jean begged to differ, whenever he draws women, their eyes bore into his soul, as if whispering to him a secret that they can only emanate through their nude form.

Jean waited patiently, sharpening his set of pencil with a knife. His sketchbook open, ready to feel each stroke of Jean’s gifted hands. Seeing her withdraw from her room, he can’t help but swallow a lump in his throat; completely enamored by his lover in front of him, he could only look away. Wearing only a nightrobe and The Heart of Ymir underneath, she teasingly spins the tie of her robe, only to worsen the forming bulge in his pants. No matter how alluring and charming the woman is, he knew that as an artist, he must keep everything completely professional.

“The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like an oriental doll. As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.” Quickly tossing him a silver coin. Jean could only watch as she parted her nightrobe in a teasing manner, the article of clothing slowly drops from her body to the floor. ‘Ah shit’, he can’t help but feel the tightening of his already harden bulge. Poor Mr. Artist, trying so hard to ignore the aroused pain in between his pants.

“Sit down, uhh yeah there on the… yup.” He awkwardly point for on the chaise lounge. She happily obliges, eyes never leaving his brown orbs. “What now Mr. Kirstein?” He then proceeds to give instructions on where to place her hands. “Keep your eyes on me, and try to stay still.”

“I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artiste. Do you like what you see?” He could only chuckle, the deep tone of his voice resonating the quiet room. She watches as he starts drawing on his sketchpad, looking at his seriousness adoringly. She cannot deny the affection she holds for this man, to her, Jean became the fresh air in her already suffocating life.

She spent her entire life conforming to her mother’s standards, doing anything to please the woman. Becoming the perfect Marleyan lady, she grew up in her mother’s strict surveillance, from hiring the best of the bestgoverness in Liberio to sending her to the most exclusive boarding school in Marley. She grew up a life of servitude to her family’s glory, she felt no different from a luxurious porcelain doll; handled with care for her expensive value.

After the death of her father, they were left with nothing but numerous debts under a glorious name. Needless to say, all of the wealth her family has accumulated throughout generations are gone, they were just a penniless family with a noble name.

The widower then met a young wealthy man and heir to a mining company in Paradis, Floch Forster. Since he had the money to salvage whatever dignity they have left, she immediately forcibly subjected her daughter to an arranged marriage with the young heir.

You see, Floch and her mother weren’t any different, treating her like some beautiful garment to parade in gatherings and parties, she secretly came to loath whatever her life became. And in order to please her mother and save her family’s face, she begrudgingly accepted the proposal. They were set to marry in winter, after their arrival to Paradis.

“So, this is the ship they say is unsinkable” Her mother noted as her eyes glanced at the large ship, taking its aesthetic and magnificence. “It is unsinkable. God himself couldn’t sink this ship.” Floch said condescendingly and bumptious. In front of them is the largest ship known to man, the Colossus. The servants proceeded to handle their possessions as Y/N could only marvel at its glory.

She couldn’t accept her mother’s selfishness and her fiancé’s possessive behavior any longer, leading her to the edge of the ship’s deck in a break down. She reluctantly looks at the ocean below with tears cascading her skin, she could only hope for a life where she isn’t treated less than a luxurious property.

“Don’t do it” She whips her head to see a young brunette man in white shirt and brown slacks. Glaring at the young man, she turns her head away, her sight getting blurry of the tears.

“Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

“Take my hand I’ll pull you in.”

“No! Stay Where you are. I mean it. I’ll let go!”

“No, you won’t.” She whips her head back to the man, looking at him with an unbelievable expression. “What do you mean I won’t?” She noticed how calm this man was, but unbeknownst to her, the man internally panics and fears for the girl’s life. He could only retort her that if she really meant what she said, she would’ve jumped without having second thoughts.

She noticed him taking his boots off one by one. Carefully threading near her as to not scare the girl. “I’m a good swimmer” he said, “but I’m more worried about the water being cold. You see I grew up in Trost somewhere in Rose, and God the winter there is cold. I went ice-fishing with my father, well… Ice-fishing is where you-“

“For God’s sake, I know what an ice-fishing is!”

“I apologize, you don’t come off as an outdoor kind of girl. Well, you see, water that cold,” he points to the dark ocean below, “It hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think... at least not the freezing pain that welcomes you.” He proceeds to offer his outstretched hand on which she could only look with a bemused expression.

“I know I look crazy, but I don’t really look forward to jumping with you… That’s why can you take my hand?” She reluctantly reaches for his hand, “My name’s Jean Kirstein, and I promise I won’t let go.” He pulls her away from the railings, resulting in falling together onto the deck with Jean below her. She could only wrap her arms tightly as she whimpers on his neck, he then brought his hand to pat her head, hoping it would stop the tears that continuously descend from her eyes.

Jean knows of the girl, well not her name, but how could he forget such an ethereal lady that managed to entrance his artistic eyes, ‘the lady from the upper deck’ as he dubbed her. Just a few moments ago, he was just lounging around some bench, smoking as he thought of the winsome girl from the upper deck, clearly a place that penniless folks like him could only dream of.

After a couple of minutes of sniffling on his shirt, she looked up to Jean. And in an instant, she quickly stood up, failingly brushing off the creases that already formed on her dress. They quietly studied each other’s appearance, feeling as if there’s something there. Their moment only lasted a short while when Floch came in running towards her, dragging her away from Jean.

“Who are you? And what did you do to her?!”

“Floch stop! He saved me! It was silly actually; Mr. Kirstein was there when I almost slip from the deck.” She had her arm around Floch, tugging him to appease his anger. He eyed at him suspiciously, as he took her hand to drag her off the deck, she could only look at his retreating figure, hoping that he could see the man in the morning to thank him properly.

She saw him again, at the interior part of the third-class general room, talking to some fellows she assumed he’s acquainted with. “Hello there Jean” she glanced at the two men beside him, they quickly stood up to leave the both of them to converse alone, clearly not wanting to intrude. They quietly walked along the deck, her eyes wondering at the laughing faces of the children who passes them.

“Uhh, so you got a name by the way?”

“Y/n, Y/n L/n” She paused for a bit, as she completely turned to Jean to look at him. “Jean... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you.”

“Well, here you are.”

“Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?”

“That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this girl so much she thought she had no way out.” She could only smile at his statement. Truthfully, she ranted to him how tiring it is to stand still like some wired doll, how disrespected she felt when they used her. She truly felt used, but this man didn’t invalidate her feelings, rather, he listened to her attentively. This was the first time she was able to talk to someone like this, it felt refreshing. Conversing with Jean brought comfort she didn’t knew existed.

“That turnip yesterday, is he with them?”

“Turnip? Oh, Floch! Ugh he is them.” She displayed her engagement ring, symbolizing the beautiful prison chain on her finger. “God he’s much worse than being just them.”

“So, you felt trapped in a loop ‘cause you’re marrying turnip?”

“Yes! Exacty!”

They continued to converse, more about how she should just run away and not marry the turnip looking man. If only it was easy, then she would’ve been away from those snobbish people, away from the circumstances that led her to this. The feeling she felt with Jean was… different, she spent her whole life being dismissed by the people around her. Having someone to listen to you in a genuine manner was stimulating.

“What’s that on your hand?” Glancing at the brown envelope on Jean’s hand.

“It’s nothing…”

“No let me see.” She then snatched the envelope away, revealing a sketchbook with sublime artwork. With her already existing fascination in art, she can’t help but feel astonished.

“These are really beautiful Jean…” she continues to flip the pages of the sketchbook, “you have a gift.” As she flipped to the next page, she saw drawings of women, wearing nothing but themselves.

“Amazing… are these drawn in, you know, real life?”

“Yup, that’s what’s great in Maria girls, willing to take their clothes off.” She then noticed a reoccurring subject in his artwork.

“This woman, you used her as your muse several times.”

“Well, she really did have beautiful hands.”

“If I may presume, you must’ve had a love affair with her.” She looks at him playfully at his rather defensive demeanor.

“No! I swear, just with her hands.” He laughs. Jean feels the erratic beating of his heart as he gets lost at the depths of her eyes. He felt it, this woman, no matter how imprisoned she felt, is a someone strong who can handle even the harshest of waves and the most blinding light from sun. He could only stare at her elegance, feeling the heat rising up to his cheeks, Jean felt different from this young lady, like he knows her all along. He wanted to take her away, no he didn’t want to save her, because he knew that the only one who can save her is herself. But he wants her to depend on him, become her solace and provide her the serenity she deserves.

They spent their days together in the Colossus; learning about each other and teaching each other knew things. They could not deny the growing feelings that’s starting to form, she knew it was wrong to fall in love with him, considering her engagement to Floch. But she doesn’t love Floch, how could she grow to love such a chauvinistic man. Floch viewed her as a possession, but Jean viewed her as a person. It wasn’t long when they acknowledged their feelings for each other, sharing a kiss on the bow of the ship, the setting sun becoming a witness to the couple’s profound love.

“It’s finished” He gestured her to see the finished artwork. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as she studies the intricacies and pencil work on the drawing. They turned to look at each other with loving eyes as they shared a slow but sensual kiss. They pulled away from the kiss as Jean’s hand found place on her face, rubbing his thumb on her cheek affectionately, as their foreheads press together.

In fear of Floch and his lackey learning Jean’s presence in their cabin, they quickly ran away to God knows where. They arrive at the ship’s luggage room as they saw a car parked at the middle. Jean pulled her hand towards it as he sat on the driver’s seat, and she sat the passenger’s seat just at the back of Jean.

“Where to Ma’am?” He playfully asks as his hands are placed on the wheel, pretending to drive her to places. She wrapped her hand around him, as she whispers to his ear, “to the stars.”

She pulls him inside, sitting on the backseat of the car, they stared at each other with a loving but lustful gaze. With a growing desire to embrace each other, Jean felt her hands travel to his already bulged member, rubbing it slowly as if to tease him.

“Fuck Y/n don’t tease me.” He proceeds to kiss her full of thirst, like a starved man, starved of her. She sat on top of his lap, she knew she needed him now, she guided his hands to her breasts as she slowly grinded on his clothed dick. “Want you know, please Jean, I want you to make love to me.” He instantly discarded their clothes as he left wet kisses on her neck, treading his hands slowly on her back to her already wet core as he rubbed small circles on her hardened nub, she could only burry her face on his neck, face contorting in pleasure as she continues to grind on his hardened cock.

“Feels so good, your cock feels so good” Grinding to their high, Jean shoots his cum towards his stomach. He lifted her up to position his member on top of her core.

“Are you sure you want this? With me?”

“Yes, fuck, Jean hurry!” He then proceeds to enter her throbbing core, feeling her walls tighten around him. Placing his hands on her waist, he slowly began to buckle his hips. “Fuck Y/n you’re so tight, so fucking tight around my- ugh” he holds her hips only to slam it back down on his cock, eliciting a moan from her pretty mouth. He started to quicken his pace, her hands around his shoulders as she they traveled towards his chest. His thrust hitting that one spot that made her drown more in pleasure.

“Baby you feel so good around my cock, fuck.” He felt her tighten around him, signaling the coming of her second high.

“Jean ‘m coming! I’m coming!”

“Cum baby, don’t hold back,” As his thrusts getting faster and deeper, she felt the height of her sex and she came around him. He continued to thrust into her as he chased his own high and he shot his load of cum inside her. Jean then slowly removed his member, as he places her once again in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her figure while he kisses her temple, embracing her like it’s his last day on earth.

Not knowing that their first night together will also be their last.

An: I had to rewatch some of the clips from the Titanic aaohaoigha anyway I'm still trying to learn how to write smut sooo

[liptonsbabe]

The light is coming [B.W]

Previous

Bill Weasley x Lexington! reader

Summary: The reader wants to leave Beauxbatons attending to her sister’s pleadings to join the Order of the Phoenix. Byron Murphy wants to leave with her and the rumors about the two of them having a romance follows them to England

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: none(?

A/N: Chapter 2 of this new story. I hope you like it! Bla bla bla english not my mother language bla bla, let me know if i screwed something up. Enjoy!

Chapter2: Beauxbatons

You received your sister's desperate letters all the way to your own room at Beauxbatons Academy of  Magic. Your brow couldn't help but twitch at the sight of the dozens of letters crowding your window sill after you had finished teaching your classes for the day.

You let the Tonks family owl get in before it fell from the tenth floor of the castle of how gnarled its wings were. France had turned into a huge fridge in the last few days, so you were surprised that the little grayish owl could carry so many letters tied to its legs in the middle of a blizzard.

The owl let out a whimpering sound as you took it in your arms and, removing the tethers, laid it on your bed near the fire in the fireplace; you scooped some food onto a napkin and walked to your desk to read the correspondence.

Although you were familiar with your older sister's great euphoria when sending letters, you recognized that this time they were not just letters asking you to tell her how things were on the other side of the pond or demanding to know the latest gossip about your love life. No, the letters that your sister Nymphadora had sent you were totally serious, mature and direct; in each and every one of them she asked you for help on her behalf and on behalf of Albus Dumbledore.

Nymphadora asked you to return home even though she knew the reasons why you had decided to leave for France. She demanded your help to put an end to an evil that was plaguing the community and was forcing you to be part of an organization that Dora described as 'The Order of the Phoenix' created and spread by the Hogwarts’ headmaster.

You knew Albus Dumbledore very well, you remembered the man who had visited you at the Tonks' house on your eleventh birthday asking you to join the school he ran. No matter how much he begged you, you never agreed to what he asked, not cause you didn't want to, but because you and your adopted family would be better if you went away from there.

Andromeda Tonks was the mother of a little two-year-old girl when someone knocked on her door in the midst of a blast of icy rain. Opening the door she found to her surprise that a small basket was in front of her feet, soaking wet and holding a rain-soaked baby girl who was crying inconsolably.

"Ted! Come look at this, Ted!" She cried out as she carried the wet baby in her arms who snuggled into her arms as soon as she felt the woman's warmth “For Merlin's sake, Ted!

Her husband ran to the doorway as he carried little Nymphadora, who was hugging a stuffed hippogriff. The man stopped in front of his wife, staring in amazement at the gift that had been left in front of their house.

"It's a baby, Ted! Someone has left their baby here and in the middle of a storm!"

"There's got to be a note" Reasoned her husband, shaking with fright "If there isn't, maybe... maybe she was left here by mistake and we'll have to look for her parents.I s there a note? What does it say?"

The note Ted Tonks was referring to was nothing more than a piece of parchment worn and almost undone by the water in the basket. Andromeda held it up to the light to decipher the message, but all she could read was: "HER NAME IS (Y/N)". The message was accompanied only by a golden locket that had the image of a clay pot with hands that molded it; on the back were the initials '(Y/N) and an S at the end. Andromeda didn’t understand why.

Even with all that, they decided that they would keep little (Y/N) Lexington -that was the word that was engraved on the basket, with which Andromeda concluded that that must be your last name- at least until your real parents came back claiming that everything had been a big mistake. Years passed and no one went in search of you.

You caressed the necklace slowly, remembering the story your mother Andromeda told you, always telling you that, even though you were not her biological daughter, she loved you as much as if you were, and that Dora loved you as if you were her sister. So, you felt the need to help her in everything your sister asked you.

Your powers were strange, no one knew what they were due to, but the Tonks family never wondered even when they appeared out of nowhere, at five years of age and after having seriously injured Nymphadora. You decided it was best to leave for France and learn to use your powers away from your family.

Now you didn't know if Madame Maxime would let you go back home, after all, you had thought of quitting being a teacher to devote yourself fully to be an auror because for that you had studied day and night until exhaustion, however your intentions had been an enigma for Madame Maxime, who flatly refused to let you abandon your classes of defense against the dark arts. But, if Dora needed you, you had to be there, because there was nothing you wouldn't do for your sister.

Folding each of the letters, you approached your bed and with your wand made all your clothes fly out of the closet until they dropped into the open suitcase that rested under your chest of drawers. You deftly closed the latch and made it become the size of a coin, loading it into your front pocket. You opened the door and ran down the stairs.

You greeted every student you came across and even talked to each of them on your way to the principal's office. You started running, thinking that you had to be that very day at the address Dora had attached to you in the last letter she sent. You fixed your hair before you reached the office and knocked three times on the door. A light voice gave you the pass on the other side and you rushed in.

“Excusez moi madame” you said as you saw the headmistress sitting in front of her desk. On the other side sat a man you recognized as Byron Murphy, a senior auror who worked as an assistant teacher of defense against the dark arts. You frowned after Byron smiled at you" I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I need to talk to you about something important.

"What is it, Professor?"

"I... well" You cleared your throat, looking down at your shoes "You see, my sister has written to me from England as a matter of urgency and she asked me to return home immediately”

"C'est du jamais vu!"Shouted the woman, kicking her desk. Byron jumped in his place "This must be a joke. Just today my two defense professors wish to resign, is this some kind of loving decision?”

Your cheeks soon turned into two shiny fresh tomatoes from the embarrassment. Byron looked at you with a raised eyebrow and held out his hand for you to take, wanting to play along with what the headmistress had just said. You shook it off, because you were not indifferent to the gossip going around the school about the two of you.

Byron Murphy would take any opportunity to be near you, and you even thought it was all a plan of the auror when Madame Maxime appointed him as assistant for defense against the dark arts; you soon learned that the class itself was very heavy and that even though you refused to accept Byron's help, you had no choice but to lean on him when things didn't turn out as arranged. Even with all that, the girls came up with that both of you were in a romantic relationship. There was the day you overheard your fourth graders whispering about how they had discovered that you and Professor Byron Murphy were getting married next winter. You punished them with extra homework.

"No, god, it's nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

"My sister needs me, ma’am. There's.... there's a matter in England that I must help her settle."

"What kind of matter?"

"Uh, well" You knew that the next thing you would say would seriously upset the headmistress, but you had no choice but to be honest and get out of there as soon as possible “She doesn't mention much about the situation, but in every letter she has sent me Albus Dumbledore's name comes up”

There was a long silence that was cut short when the huge headmistress stood up and the chair she was sitting in fell backwards causing a frightening clatter. You took a couple of steps back and tried to keep your hands as close to your wand as possible. Byron got up as well, walked over to you and stood next to you, holding your hand in case the situation got out of hand.

“Albus Dumbledore! That unfortunate little man! I've had enough of him since last year!”

“Are you referring to the Triwizard Tournament?” Byron asked

“Of course that's what I mean! That damned Tournament where Hogwarts had two winners, unfairly of course, but nothing could be done cause the laws of the damned Goblet were clear, weren't they? They didn't accept appeals. And then... what happened to that Diggory boy... what they said about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.... Albus Dumbledore is a liar!” You closed your eyes as a drop of spittle landed on your cheek. Byron shook his head

“You don't believe in the Dark Lord's return?”

“Of course not!” You both knew that the headmistress was really annoyed as her French accent became even more pronounced. You looked at Byron for a second before looking back at the angry woman “I've read about it in the newspaper, in The Daily Prophet, as they call it, Igor Karkarov has kept me informed of the matter.

“Do you still have contact with that man?”

“Sure do i! He and I have been friends for years and he has been affected by the thing as well. The poor man has had to hide in a hut on the outskirts of Bulgaria from where he has been able to get hold of influences who send him copies of the newspaper every month. Otherwise we would both be in the dark. So i’m very sorry for what i’m about to tell you, Professor Lexington, but I will not accept any kind of resignation on your part.

“Madame, if you'll just let me....”

“Much less when you plan to join Dumbledore's madness. I'm sorry, but you'd better get back to your classes”

The thing was, that the issue was about more than just Dumbledore, it was about protecting your family, your friends and in the worst case scenario, the entire magical community. You may not have been present at Hogwarts a year ago, but you firmly believed what Dora had told you about Cedric Diggory's murder; there was no reason not to believe in the Dark Lord's return, cause even those who were Death Eaters had been disappearing overnight. And you firmly believed in your sister's word, she, being an auror, was aware of the severity  of the situation and that's why she was strongly asking you to go back home and help her in any way you could.

No, you couldn't stay at Beauxbatons for a second longer.

"It is a pity that you don’t accept my motives, Madame, but I have already made up my mind. I have packed my bags and will leave immediately with or without your approval" The woman was about to retort, however, you stopped her "I believe in my sister's word and of course I believe in Lord Voldemort's return.

"Don't say his name!" Madame Maxime shrieked, covering her ears. Byron shuddered

"Cedric Diggory shouldn’t have died and we mustn’t stand idly by; there are people out there fighting and dying at the hands of dark magic, spreading fear and starting an internal war that we may never be able to get out of. Desolé, madame, but I cannot stay out of this. I have learned much here, and even managed to control my powers, despite that, i’m loyal to my family and, therefore, i’m loyal to Albus Dumbledore.

You turned around, ready to leave when the giant's powerful voice stopped you.

"Professor Lexington, are you aware that if you leave the school you will never return?"

You looked at her over your shoulder

"Believe me, Madame, if you refuse to believe in the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and try to make others believe it is so, then I have no desire to return."

Leaving the office, you ran down the stairs trying to get to the front door. After all, from France to London wasn't too long a walk, you could just disappear and show up at the place Dora had marked for you. You would if you had the slightest idea where that place was.

A few hurried footsteps followed you, stopping you in front of the main door.

It was Byron, who was carrying a small suitcase on his back.

“Hey, you don't have to run away from me, honey”

“Leave me alone, Byron”

“Well, okay, listen” He grabbed you by the cheeks as you tried to leave the castle. Your eyes met his, noticing how a smile began to form on his lips “What you said to Olympe was wonderful, it really was. And you of all people know that I also believe in the return of you-know-who”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I was about to tell Madame Maxime my reasons to resigning  when you arrived”

“What are those reasons?”

Byron smiled sideways, stroking your cheeks.

“I want to fight against Lord Voldemort”

“What”

“Just as you hear, dear. After all, that's our job as Aurors, isn't it? I can't stay in this castle and pretend to be a teacher when they may need me out there. I've heard about the Order of the Phoenix, about Albus Dumbledore, his name is going around the world. So i want to be a part of it too”

“Byron...”

“Just... let me come with you, okay? You'll need all the help you can get”

Byron being an auror of a higher rank made everything easier, because then you would have extra help against the Dark Lord; however, you weren't prepared to be around him any longer than necessary. Byron stroked your cheek and, smiling, he opened the door for you. You sighed, taking his hand to disappear from there together.

[atunyqueso]

Diabolik Lovers fanfic Ch1

Warning: Some cursing, vampires and questionable writing.

Chapter 1: Flip phones and sussy drivers.

Yui and Aika had known each other since they were young, they stuck together through thick and thin, like true best friends. Yui even stayed with her through all the difficult times, and in turn, Aika adored the girl with her whole heart. She would give anything for her, even her life, she owed it to the golden hearted teen. So, they were never seen apart, whenever someone ran into Yui, Aika was there, and vice versa. Some people thought of them to even have a twin bond while others questioned if they might be an item in secret, all they knew was that they were like bread and butter, nothing could separate them. Until...

- Oh my gosh, I can´t believe you did that! - the blonde girl excalimed to her wild friend through the phone, only recieving a chuckle in return.

- Yeah, yeah...Anyway, how´d it go in church today? - She asked.

Aika wasn´t exactly the most religious person out there, but she did believe everything was possible and strongly believed in the paranormal. How could she not after all that had happened to her?

She only really didn´t like the subject because of how discriminative some people could be using religion as a poor excuse, and because she was a little "sinful" in the eyes of God. She´d commited several different sins and didn´t exactly regret most of it.

She kind of lost her faith in God a long time ago, but she still tried, and asked her friend about church because she knew she liked it, she just wouldn´t go with her. She wouldn´t consider herself an atheist though, she was more in the questioning mind set.

- It was good, we did pretty much the same as most days, but we got some more donations today so that was pretty good and the choir is practicing a new song for Sunday.

- That´s nice.

- You know... - Yui began.

- Don´t. Don´t you dare say it. - Aika grimaced, knowing what was to come. Her friend had been pestering her about it for ages.

- ...Maybe you should join the choir.

- Never, not even in my worst nightmares. I couldn´t think of anything worse. - she deadpanned.

- Aw, come on! - The Komori woman insisted. - It´ll be really fun! You know you want too.

- I really don´t. I´d rather have my face be submitted to a nice long session of scaphism than go through that hell hole.

- I don´t know what that is but I can already tell it´s something disturbing so I´m going to move on. Pleaseeee! You have the voice of an angel! You were made for this! - she exagerated playfully.

- ...I´ll think about it, but no promises. - She groaned, finally giving in.

- YAY! It´s gonna be so much fun! And we´ll get to see each other every afternoon, aren´t you excited??

- Well sure, I´d love to see you more and I do like singing, even if it has to be there, but I don´t know if they´ll want me there even though I´m not exactly your friendly neighbourhood cristian. And if they do, I am NOT wearing one of those long nun clothes, I´ll look like a mix of a penguin and a croisant. Although mad respect to them for wearing it all the time and pulling it off, it must be boiling in the summer, or maybe even freezing in the winter if the air gets up the bottom of it. I don´t know how it works- - she rambled cluelessly, her friend surpressing her giggles out of respect, thankful her lip-bitting expression of laughter containment couldn´t be seen through the phone.

- Don´t worry about that, I don´t think they´ll force you to wear it. And I´m pretty sure they´ll accept you as long as you´re respectful, which I know you are unless someone crosses the line first. Your singing is amazing, it has so much feeling in it, they´ll love it if you try your hardest. - Yui praised, stars in her non-visible eyes almost transmitted via her voice. - Besides, they´re supposed to be loving of everyone, they won´t care if you aren´t strictly religious, unless you´re looking for a job there, then it´s the basic requierment.

- Well, that makes sense I guess.

- Besides, it´s my dad´s church, he wouldn´t allow any corruption or discrimination there, so you don´t need to worry about your morality.

- Yeah, that´s true.

- Just, don´t tell them you burnt down a church. - Yui went serious all of a sudden, lips in a thin line.

- That´s probably a good idea, yeah. But in my defense, that church was corrupt and I had my reasons. It´s not like there was anybody inside. - She defended her actions the best way she could.

- Uh, no comment. - Yui deflected. - Anyway, I have to go now, dinner´s ready and my father said he has something important to tell me, he´s been acting a little strange lately.

- Oh, I hope everything´s ok. Don´t worry, I´m sure he´s fine, but if something´s wrong I´m here for you no matter what.

- Thanks Aika, I really appreciate it. I´ll tell you about everything tomorrow.

- You´re welcome Yui, it´s the least I could do for my best friend. Enjoy your dinner, and who knows, maybe it´s good news. - She answered.

- Yeah, maybe... - But she hesitated, her gut told her it wasn´t, but she shrugged it off. Everything was probably fine.

- Or maybe he´s finally going to tell you you´re adopted. - She teased, trying to lighten up her friend´s mood.

- For the last time, I am not adopted. - Yui refuted.

- Yeah, yeah. - Aika muttered sarcastically.

- Anyway, see you next Sunday!

- Are there even free spots?

- Uh huh, there´s one left. - she answered way too quickly.

- You sly...Alright, I´ll try to make the audition and I´ll start memorising a random song tomorrow, but what do I even sing?

- Doesn´t matter, just pick something that shows off your voice and that you´ll be able to learn the lyrics to.

- Doesn´t matter you say? - Aika smirked. - Ok, I´m picking-

- Ok, you can pick anything as long as it´s family friendly! - she replied rapidly, practically cutting the other off.

- Geez, I got it. Anything church-y, or just the kidz bop version of anything. - Hinode grimaced. - Actually I´ll go with the first, I can´t stand most kidz bop songs, the originals are so much better! We´re getting off track here, talk to you later.

- Bye!!

The call ended and Yui headed towards dinner with her father, Aika on the other hand finally finished up some assignments she´d been procrastinating on and then ordered a pizza, watching the final episodes of "Shadowhunters: The Mortal Instruments", fawning over her OTP of this series, Alec and Magnus, simping over how hot Izzy was and internally screaming at the show getting cancelled.

She didn´t want a season four, no, she NEEDED a season four. At least she had the books, her imagination and what was made of the series thus far, as well as the hopes it would someday get re-produced.

By the time she´d finished, she needed some cheering up before getting ready for bed so she watched a couple of filler episodes of "Boku No Hero Academia" and then took a warm shower, changing into her pyjamas and achieving some relaxing sleep, leaving the singing problem for another day, that was future Aika´s problem. If only she knew that the next day she´d have some life changing news.

.

.

.

The next day, Yui dreaded the idea of leaving, especially on such short notice. She would miss her father, the church, her school, her classmates, Aika...Never the less, she had to go, she had no choice. She broke the news to her best friend, who acted quite mature about the situation. She didn´t want to make Yui feel worse than she probably already did, so she tried to show her the positives.

Aika claimed that they could still call and text, and that they could visit each other. They had a fun girls day until it was her time to go. They were saying their goodbyes, Yui´s suitcase packed and the transport already there. They shared one last tight hug before Yui went to the vehicle, her left foot stepping inside when Aika suddenly stopped her.

- Wait! - She jumped, her instincts telling her to not let her go alone. - I´ll come with you, see you to your new appartment. It´ll be so much easier for me to visit then, and I have nothing else to do.

- Are you sure? It´s a long ride, I don´t want to be a bother.

- Don´t be dumb, it´s no bother. - Aika waved her off. - Now hitch up.

They got in, entertaining each other on the ride with casual conversation, jokes, gossip and even some improvised travel games, the driver staying silent for most of the ride. He only piped up to mutter a few suspicious things that went mostly ignored as they were too busy sinking in all their remanent time. They would miss their quality time together, they were almost glued to each other´s sides at all times. They were even sat next to each other in class at school! But at least they had phones and ways to visit, they wouldn´t forget about one another.

A few hours later, they had arrived. The main reason for Aika being here was actually to check it out as she had a bad feeling about the ordeal, not that she didn´t love spending time with Yui. The place looked nice enough, just a bit creepy from the darkness of it, but it was practically a mansion. She had to resist a shiver from how cold it felt to her, it was like somebody had suddenly rubbed ice down her spine but on the inside, and it wasn´t from the sudden rain.

It all seemed weird. She got to go to a top tier school and live in a huge house for free, all expenses payed including food, no consquences? That didn´t sit right with Aika, nor with Yui, but the latter didn´t question it much since her father sent her there.

This time it was the last hug for real, so they made it count. They said a few emotional goodbyes and promised to call each other frequently as possible. There was one last thing Aika whispered to her, even if the driver was still waiting inside the car.

- Be careful and call me later. I´m getting weird vibes, send a thumbs up or down text in five minutes, no more no less. If not I´ll assume I was right, think you´re in danger and come back for ya, got it? Now, take care. Love ya.

- I will, love you too Aika. - Yui nodded, slightly more nervous from the revelation, but not letting it get to her.

With one final squeeze, she returned to the car, getting comfortable in the seat, admiring the beautiful roses around the antique style house. Something about the entire place drew her in and away at the same time. It was like feeling a simultaneous pull and push force of destiny near the area. It was like it was calling out to her to be there but at the same time warning her to grab Yui and leave.

The driver began the route again, the girls waving through the window until they could no longer see each other. Aika pulled out her phone, making sure the volume was at the maximum and keeping it turned on in her hand, just in case.

- Excuse me, would you mind turning the heater on please? I´m really cold now all of a sudden. - She requested.

- Really? I feel fine but sure. It´ll cost ya a little extra though, I was only paid to drive there and back. - he warned.

- Fine. - she didn´t argue, handing him some cash she had in her pocket, just doing up her coat.

- You know, I saw you worried about your friend back there and you won´t stop staring at your phone. Don´t expect a call anytime soon. - he commented.

- And why's that? - she looked for elaboration, intrigued by his strange wording.

- Let's just say there ain't much signal up here... There´s not much of anything up here. - he spoke staring off into the distance.

He knew something. He knew something and she knew he knew something, but she also knew he wasn´t about to tell her, so she laughed it off nervously and tried to think about what to do next. She kept checking her phone, no text or phone call attampts, signal still present. Fuck it, she thought. Quickly thinking up a lie, she pretended Yui had left a personal item of hers, grabbing her own credit card and pretending to panic.

- Oh no! It seems my friend has left her credit card, do you mind heading back so I can return it? Please, it´ll only take two seconds and it´s something important, I know she´s going to need it and freak out when she realises she forgot it. - she dramatisized.

- That´s ok, leave it with me and I can return it to the young lady later, I wouldn´t want a young lady like yourself getting home late. - he persisted.

- Thanks, but it´s ok. We haven´t been on the road for so long, there´s time to give it back. I don´t want you having to drive another long journey later just to return it, and it´s not something I trust mail companies with not to lose.

- If you insist, but be quick, and make sure there´s nothing else she´s missing on the way. We wouldn´t want to be doing this all night. - he sighed.

When they were there (still no messages) Aika thanked the driver and headed out, taking off her coat and knocking at the door, waiting to be let inside. But, nobody came. She knocked a second time, louder this time, waiting a bit more. Third time´s the charm she thought, raising her fist the third time ready to knock when it opened revealing a stern looking tall man with glasses and neatly combed dark plum hair that faded into really light blond at the tips and pale magenta eyes.

He was wearing an expensive red and black suit, and stared at Aika with a mix of intrigue, annoyance, and overall sadism. The vibes she inititally got from him was OCD, perfectionist, posh, rule follower, leader and strict. Oh and hot of course, he looked like an utter daddy.

- Who might you be and what brings you here? - he questioned. Wasn´t one unknown woman enough?

- My apologies for interrupting anything but you see, a girl just came here not long ago by the name of Komori Yui and she forgot something, so I simply came to return it. Oh, and to answer your question I´m Hinode Aika, please take care of me. - She bowed slightly out of politeness.

- I see. I´m Sakamaki Reiji, please, follow me. - He then looked towards another corner of the room where a man emerged from the shadows. - See that her coat is taken care of.

Said older male took her coat from her wordlessly and dissapeared again back where he came from. It was peculiar but she decided not to question the shifty butler. Before he left Aika managed to thank the butler for his service and give a short bow.

Reiji was a tad impressed at her politeness given their guest hadn´t even properly introduced herself where as Hinode had even used the traditional introduction method, perfect first impression in his eyes. He still saw something off about it. Was she lying to him? Perhaps, but even if she was, her blood smelt delicious, like none he´d ever been around before, so he let her in. Not because he bought her lie, but because he wasn´t planning on letting her back out.

After signalling her inside, he motioned the driver to go, watching as he sped into the distance, and smirked, following Aika inside and locking the door behind him. He lead her into what seemed to be the living room, there she was met with five other boys, all with different striking assets, and all hot as fuck. As soon as they entered the room she could feel uncomfortableness in the air around her directed towards each other and, when they noticed her, something else. Was it hunger? How peculiar. Still, no sign of Yui, just intense staring at her.

- Hi, I´m Hinode Aika, but you can all call me Aika. Sorry for inturrupting but would you mind directing me to Yui? I have something I need to return to her. - She nervously broke the silence.

- You mean Chichinashi? She´s upstairs.

- Ayo, Chichinashi? - Aika tried to hold back her laugh. - Why you gotta do her like that?

- Ah, so you´re amused by Ore-sama´s nickname for the pancake? As you should be, Bakunyu. - He smirked, hiding his surprise at her lack of anger towards the names.

Hinode giggled, she´d had weird boob comments before, but she was quite flirty like that too so she wasn´t going to be a hypocrite. Besides, it was just a nickname and she´d never been called that before, it was kind of funny to her, she might have to try and come up with one for him in the future. Well, if he turned out to be fine and her insticts were just on a fritz.

The guy in question was slender with unruly reddish-coloured hairspiked at the ends, narrow green eyes, and a fair complexion. He wore a black stud on his right ear that caught her attention as she had a couple of piercings herself.

Aika had each ear pierced but on one side she had a few other piercings trailing up and she had another one on her tongue that she recently got done and it hurt like a bitch when she did, but it was worth it when it healed. Hinode thought he looked kind of like a cat with his green eyes, cheeky expression and fairly pointy teeth.

- Ok, I´ll hand it to ya, you caught me off guard, but my eyes are up here. - Aika signalled as if to prove her point.

- Yes, but your tits are too pretty not to look at sexy-chan. - Another man spoke up, suddenly appearing next to her.

He had shoulder-length, reddish-brown hair, with a lighter blondish colour to the tips, a mole on the right side of his chin and green eyes like the previous guy. He was holding the tip of his fedora down before letting it go completely to focus on Aika. He too was smirking and had two piercings on his left ear.

He was really close and almost about to touch her arm, and she could sort of see it coming so she backed away a bit trying to be discrete as to not come off rude. He didn´t seem to notice as he only got closer, and she dreaded him touching an uncovered part of her skin like her face because she didn´t want to feel any weird vibes from him just yet. It´s not like she could fully control her power and she was going to be exposed, not a great situation.

Luckily for her, Reiji noticed her discomfort at the action and assumed she was merely not a touchy person and felt unneasy at his straightfowardness. He wouldn´t care, but she´d been polite, so the formal thing to do was make sure she was treated the same in return, it was mere etiquette.

- That´s enough, Laito, step away from the young lady before you make her more uncomfortable. Being so forward with a woman you just met is highly inappropriate - Reiji spoke up tiredly, seemingly done with everything.

- Aw, but why? It´s only natural to want to touch and taste something so appealing. She´s so hot, and have you smelt her? Delicious. I bet Kanato agrees with me. - he pouted.

- Yes, I do. She smells like a candy store. And she´s so pretty, with big eyes, like a doll. Teddy thinks so too. - A man holding a plushie nodded, unsettling smile widening.

He had light purple and large eyes with visible dark undertones beneath them, probably due to some lack of sleep. His hair matched the colour of his eyes, and she wondered if such rare colours were natural. He was rather short compared to the rest of them, and very thin. He had a child-like appearance but he was probably the same age as the rest of them. Instead of a smirk he just grinned, a bit too wide to be considered friendly or normal.

In his arms was a stuffed bear with light brown fur covering his arms, head and legs. His snout, the inside of his ears, his chest and his paws were a pale beige colour. He had small, beady brown eyes made of buttons with visible stitch marks. He had a black eye patch covering his left eye, two straps connected to the actual patch from brass rings, and there was a golden carving of a heart arrow engraved in it.

Aika´s eyes lingered on him as she too had a love for plushies, one of the few childish things about her that she could never put her finger on the reason why.

- Knock it off. I think you´re forgetting that Ore-sama saw her first and gave her a nickname. Concequently, Ore-sama is going to be her first everything, I´m claiming her.

- Actually, I saw her first. - Reiji muttered.

- Again with your lame Ore-sama thing. - A pale haired male roled his eyes from his place leaning against a wall that wasn´t in the best conditions. There was a hole through it.

- Damn it Subaru, quit it. - Ayato clenched his teeth, once again startled by his youngest brother.

- Scared you again? Pathetic. And why is there another human here? I bet you could smell her from a mile away. - he retaliated.

Subaru had had silverish light-lavanderish whitish hair, and his eyes were a scarlett red with a slight pinkish hue. Aika could only silently wonder why the poor guy had been named after a car, that was until all the suspiciously lewd-sounding information reached her brain.

- Hold up, taste me? Smell me? Claim me? Be my first everything? What kind of kink did I walk in on and why am I part of it? - Aika misinterpreted with her dirty mind, not that Laito would be opposed to it.

They took a second to figure out what she was talking about, noticing how weird it sounded to a person that didn´t know they were vampires and a wave of embarrasment hit them almost comedically, not that they´d let it show. Meanwhile, the only person who hadn´t spoken up thus far was laying down on the furthest couch lowly chuckling at how this had all played out.

He was a handsome young man with slightly curled blond hair as well as light ocean blue eyes. He too had black studs but on both of his ears, not just one. He had an MP3 player lazily sitting on his chest attached to a wire which as wrapped around his neck and with the earphones in his ears, except one of them wasn´t so he could listen in on the drama.

- I´m sure that´s not what they meant. - Reiji piped up, placing the blame on her instead. - But my, what a dirty mind you have, I figured you to be polite.

- I am, but to certain extent. Also, how is that me being dirty minded, what else could they have meant, I don´t understand. - She refuted. - I´m sure anybody else would´ve reached the same conclusion.

- Your little friend, bitch-chan, didn´t, so it´s just you sexy-chan. We´re more alike then I thought fufu. - Laito jumped in, winking, which she normally would´ve winked back, but not in this situation.

- Oi! What did you do to Yui?! You better not have touched her inappropriately or I swear to fucking God, this morning will have been the last time the lot of you will see the light of day. That´s not a threat, that´s a promise. Don´t you mess with my angel. - Her voice went earily low and her glare felt like it could pierce more than a dagger.

- We did nothing of the sort, and I am offended you would think so low of us, but I´ll let it pass as my brothers did mislead you and let this go as a misunderstanding where you were just protecting your loved one. However, if you were to even attempt to threaten us ever again, I can promise you, you would be the one who wouldn´t escape alive. - Reiji glared back. - Although, why give you that chance? It would be way more fun to just eliminate you now, don´t you agree brothers?

He sauntered closer to her, the rest of them following suit with bared fangs and murderous auras. All except Subaru who stayed out of it, staring back in disgust, and the MP3 man who just laid there calmly, as if his siblings weren´t about to murder an innocent woman right before him.

They were expecting Aika to cower in fear, scream, make a run for it. But no.

- You're vampires? Ah shit, here we go again. Well, that clears up the weird comments, sorry for misunderstanding, I thought you were just being creeps or molesting my friend. I shouldn´t jump to conclusions. - She shrugged, taking a seat on an empty couch.

They froze. Why wasn´t she terrified?

- Aren't you going to run away screaming? - Reiji tilted his head.

- Nah, what's the point? If you want me dead, I'm going to be dead anyway, why waste time? This is your house, I don't know where to go, you probably locked the doors, we're in the middle of nowhere and I'm almost sure the driver is in on it. Plus, you're all vampires so I ain't getting outta this alive unless you want that, might as well chill for the last couple of seconds of my life I guess. - She reasoned nonchalantly.

- You sure are a strange one...No matter, thank you for being rational and having the curtesy to sit still. We´ll make sure to enjoy you thouroughly. - He stalked closer, triplets surrounding you when...

- Oh, by the way, that guy said she has to stay here as a guest until he figures some things out about her or something. He requested that none of us kill her and that we have to protect her from danger. - The MP3 dude spoke up. - He said to treat her with respect with the other one that came along, except this one´s a guest for some weird reason of his and the other one is a sacrificial bride from the church.

- What? You're telling me that Bakunyu here is some kinda weird guest from him without any reasons? - Ayato questioned.

- Let's be honest, he would never give us a reason, he keeps this stuff to himself. Doesn't matter if we live here or not, really. - Laito sighed.

- I'm sorry, you said I was a guest? I didn´t know I was supposed to be here too, and what even is this bride thing? I´m very confused. Plus, I´m pretty sure I have no idea who the man you´re talking about is but ok. - Aika chimed in.

- You weren´t told you were going to stay here? - The blond asked.

- No, I just came to drop Yui off and check the place out in case it was fishy. - She admitted.

- Why would it be "fishy"? I mean, you were right, but how would you know that? - He continued.

- I don't know, it just felt off. - Aika explained. - She suddenly gets a tuition out of nowhere for a prestigious school she didn´t sign up for, the year already started, right when her father has to leave for work, even though the church was doing perfectly fine and then they won´t answer Yui's calls. Not only that, but the school is so prestigious it´s almost impossible to get in without money or a recomendation from somebody influential, and Yui isn´t poor but she isn´t rich or has lots of surreal contacts either. And not only all THAT, but it´s in a huge house, all expenses paid, free ride, into the middle of nowhere, and the school is a night school so we can´t call ahead because it wouldn´t be open yet until the time she already had to be there? How is that normal? So I thought, hey, I´ll go with her and we can spend more time together and meanwhile I´ll check it out to see if it´s good or we should make a run for it before we become part of some weird shit like a black market human trafficking cult or something sus like that.

- Well, that is true. Yet, not everyone would think it over so much when they could gain a lot and seemingly lose nothing as well as having little to no time to think about it. You are quite the observer. - Reiji noted.

- Eh, I try. I kind of depend on it for what I want to study. - She shrugged.

- Ah, I see. And what would that be? I´m curious now.

- You sure ask a lotta questions ahaha. Well, anything to do with humanitary studies and stuff, but more so something like psychology or investigative work, perhaps something to do with law, it´s what I´m good at. I´ll probably go with psychology though, get a PhD or something, I don´t know. - Aika answered. - Although, Yui wants me to be a singer or an idol and keeps trying to find me any position as one, but I find it unrealistic and, if it worked out, I think it would get annoying to be swarmed with people at all times.

- You aren´t wrong, that sounds like too much work. - The blond couch potato spoke.

- Oh, I have a question now. - Aika said. - If I´m staying here, how am I gonna get my stuff? I´m looking out the window and the driver is gone, I didn´t bring anything with me cause I´m just as surprised as you are and what are the odds that you´ll let me leave?

- Zero, you can´t leave except to go to night school. - Reiji ordered.

- Thought so. - She sighed. - I´ll think of something. Oh, did you take Yui´s phone? Or did you attack her or something?

- Maybe we did, maybe we didn´t. What´s it to you, human? - Subaru interrogated.

- Because she was supposed to text me ages ago. It´s one of the reasons I got suspicious and came back for her. - She admitted.

- You said you came to return something she left! YOU DARE YOU LIE TO US!! - Kanato glared.

- And you bought that? That´s a lame excuse I pulled outta my ass cause I suck at lying. - She replied calmly.

- I could tell from the moment you came in. - Reiji almost boasted.

- It's really just because I hate lying, so I don´t, and I have little practise. I just think it's unnecessary and they´re gonna find out eventually and be mad, nobody likes being lied to. Plus, the truth is better, fuck people´s feelings. Lying is for pussies, and back there, I was being a pussy for Yui's safety. - Aika simplified. - Chile, anyways, so...are you gonna take my phone too?

- Of course we are, as a punishment for trying to lie to Ore-sama. - Ayato got closer.

- You´ve been naughty sexy-chan, let us punish you. - Laito smirked.

- Damn, take me out to dinner first. - she joked.

Pulling out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, she handed it over to Ayato unamused. She had quite the attachment to her phone, but she was not about to defy a group of vampires, and there wasn't much signal there anyway. Not that she had anybody she really wanted to call except for Yui, and they lived together now so there was no need.

- Here, but please be careful. - she pleaded.

- Careful? Like this? - he teased, throwing the phone over to Laito who caught it swiftly, nearly giving the poor girl a heart attack.

- Bitc-

- Or like this? - Laito yeeted the phone across the room to Kanato.

- Eep.

- Oh no, I think she meant like this. - Kanato laughed before tossing it at Subaru who'd had enough of today.

- She obviously meant like this. - Subaru let the phone fall to the ground, not even making a move to catch it and then made a show of stomping down on the phone.

- You heartless motherfuckers. - she deadpanned almost comically. - I had all my favourite songs, memes, pictures of animals and games on there. Thanks for that.

- I feel your pain. - The blond who's name Aika still hadn´t caught spoke, and she knew he related at least to the song thing from how he coddled his MP3 and earphones.

- Well, it appears that your way to call for help is gone, so allow us to introduce ourselves. That is the eldest son, Shuu. - He mentioned and Aika glanced over to see him sleeping. - My name is Reiji and I´m the second son. Next are the triplets, Ayato...

- You're never getting away from Ore-sama, Bakunyu. - he smiled toothily.

- Who said I was trying to leave-

- ...Kanato...

- I hope to taste you very soon, my sweet doll. - He hugged his bear tighter.

- Uh, ok. - Aika went along with it, still unable to process it in a non-pervy way.

- ...And Laito.

- It's a pleasure to make your acquantaince, and hopefully more, sexy-chan. - He winked seductively.

- Right back at ya. - she winked back, effectively surprising the fedora wearing redhead.

- The last son is Subaru.

- Why are we still wasting time? - Subaru 'tch'ed.

- You're such a mood. - Aika commented, effectively confusing him.

- A what?

- I can't really explain it, but it´s a compliment, don´t worry.

- I-I. Tch, get lost. - Subaru looked away, walking further from her.

- BruH.

Suddenly, Kanato and Laito were sat on either side of her on the couch, Laito reaching out to cup her face.

- There, there. You won´t be needing your phone, you'll have us. And we´re about to become great friends.

- To tell you the truth, your blood smells so amazing that I'm starting to feel a bit peckish. - Kanato confessed.

- Don´t I know it. You smell so delicious it´s almost making me delirious, sexy-chan. - he whispered in her ear, opening his mouth, ready to grab a bite.

- Hey, don´t forget about Ore-sama. - he came up from the front of the couch, leaning over her.

Soon enough, they'd all sauntered up to her, leaning over to try and get first access, biting together into different parts of her flesh. In the end, Laito was biting her chest right above the cleavage, Kanato was feeding from the neck, Reiji had one arm, Shuu had the other, Ayato was feeding from her thigh and Subaru was drinking from another one of her legs. The moment they bit down, she felt like she was being pierced by twelve big screws. She didn´t scream, but she did wince, clenching down on her teeth.

Soon enough though, the pain began to dissipate. What she felt instead was a sense of butterflies. Not in a horny way, but like when you talk to your crush, or do something fun, or have a first kiss. They fluttered away in her stomach until it became quite soothing, like the best headache medicine ever, and all the tensed muscles in her back relaxed. She felt a bit tingly, like when you listen to a really good ASMR, or get a massage. Was this supposed to happen? She didn´t know, and she sure as hell didn´t care, it was so calming.

The pain on the bites still remained, and every time they shifted a tad, it shot through her body, but she didn´t mind it, the rest of it was alright and better than expected. Soon, she began to feel light headed, that was pretty normal though with this being her first time being fed on and having six vampires on her at once. She felt her eyelids get heavy and shifted a bit to let them know.

- Mm, I think that's enough for now. - she mumbled tiredly.

They got off of her, one by one, but they took it a bit too far and she couldn´t really walk all too well without losing balance. The good thing was that the calm sensation from the experience got rid of her headache.

- Didn't even scream, good girl. - Reiji said.

- Eh, it wasn't that bad. The whole teeth-piercing-skin thing hurts like hell, but after that I felt really calm, so it´s fine. Nothing to scream about. - she muttered.

- Calm? - Shuu questioned.

- Mhm, is that not supposed to happen? - she puzzled.

- No, it's supposed to make you horny if anything, sexy-chan. - Laito explicated. - Although that's mostly if you're a masochist with a pain kink.

- I don´t know, maybe it´s cause I wasn´t turned on, or because it was more than one of you feeding? Point is I kinda need help, I can´t stay up.

- That's not it either, this is very strange indeed. - Reiji furrowed his eyebrows.

Laito helped Aika up, and she wasn't sure if it was to be nice or to be touching her, but he wasn´t groping any weird places so she didn't care.

- Thanks, Laito.

- You´re very welcome, sexy-chan. - he singsonged her nickname.

- I´m still surprised you barely flinched, the other girl screamed and ran around for ages. - Kanato recalled.

- Chichinashi pulled out a cross, as if that could stop Ore-sama. - he rolled his eyes, offended at the underestimation he´d received.

- She did not. - Aika widened her eyes. - Well ok, but blame that on what they teach us about vampires.

- That's true, but then she tripped on air after taking a couple of steps away and got a huge cut on her knee, bleeding all over our clean floor. - Reiji glanced over to a dry blood spot on the floor that she hadn't noticed yet.

After looking over, she pictured the scene in her head, imagining her as the typical dumb blonde in most horror movies and nearly died on the inside from the second hand embarrasment. How did she even trip on air after two steps and cut her knee on such a smooth floor surface? Aika would never know. Glancing a bit towards the left, behind the couch, she caught sight of the reason she hadn´t been contacted. Yui´s broken phone. And before she could stop herself, it slipped out.

- It's the flip phone for me.

They stared at her, before they started to laugh, the only ones trying not to being Subaru who had to cover his face to do so and Reiji who ended up with an amused smile. That was not what they expected her to say at all, then again, she was proving to be quite the unpredictable individual. This would be an interesting roommate situation indeed.

But, if she wasn't a bride, why was she here? Why would their father invite a guest to his sons house instead of his own? It made no sense. For now, they only focused on the situation at hand, and helped Aika get upstairs, showing her to her room.

She thanked them for helping her and went inside, putting on a night gown that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the enormous bed she was given. After doing so, she checked out the giant room briefly, quite liking the place. It was almost as big as her entire rented studio apartment back where she lived.

Apart from the probably king or queen sized bed, she noticed a big window with long curtains matching the bed sheets, but her favourite part of it was the conjoined window seat she had. She´d always wanted a window seat, she loved them. She could sit there and relax while reading or listening to music or doing any other thing and stare out at the view, dreaming and travelling far away.

She quickly got a few of the many extra cushions and pillows she had on her bed and placed them on the window seat, trying it out. She felt like such a main character in that moment, staring out into the beautiful horizon of the rainy forest.

With one last long look, she closed the curtains and returned to her bed. She slipped off her gloves to sleep and placed them carefully on the nightstand. Then, she tucked herself into her blankets like a burrito and drifted off into a shockingly fast sleep. She was usually sleep deprived, but her body fell asleep so soon from the exhaustion, she would feel so fresh in the morning. Maybe this wouldn´t be so bad, she just needed to take care of Yui, she wasn´t so fond of the new adjustments. Most sane people wouldn't be.

.

.

.

Key words (nicknames, translations):

Chichinashi: Ayato's nickname for Yui (cannon). It translates to breastless. Another alternative he uses is pancake.

Ore-sama: An overly self-confident and narcissistic way of saying “me” in Japanese. Alternative is yours truly.

Bakunyu: Ayato's nickname for Aika. Translates to enormous breasts (lit: exploding breasts). Bakunyu is defined as women who are depicted having breasts so large they look as if they are about to explode. (I only gave this to the OC because he has some kind of fixation with breasts lmao).

Bitch-chan: Laito's nickname for Yui. Alternative is little bitch.

Sexy-chan: Laito's nickname for Aika. (Because he likes that kind of nickname and it´s a less demeaning or pervy one that still suited him that I could think of).

Doll-chan: Kanato's nickname for Aika. (I made her remind him a bit of a doll, especially the eyes, because he loves dolls).

(insert name)-San: Polite honorific. Title of respect added to a name. Usually it would be Sakamaki-san, but in this I added the actual name because if not it might get confusing with all the brothers. I also thought it was more personal.

(Insert name or in this case nickname)-chan: Expresses that the speaker finds a person endearing. Usually for young children, close friends, babies, grandparents and sometimes female adolescents. It may also be used towards cute animals, lovers, or a youthful woman.

(Idk why the pic's blurry here but not on my computer-)

A/N: Btw, none of the art/pictures I post here are mine, I just don't usually find the names of the people who did it, or they're reposts. I legit just google different Diabolik Lovers pics and choose the ones that I like the most or suit the story. If I ever did do my own art, I'd specify, but it probably won't ever come to that and I just wanted to clear up here that I'm not trying to steal from anybody. If any of you know who's art this is, or if it's yours and I happened to put it here, tell me so I can credit you/them.

[valeskakingdom]

Request

Jerome met the reader at the circus ... They spend the evening together (well, maybe have sex)? And then the reader leaves Jerome (he gives her his grey coat, what a gentleman) and comes back the next day, only to find out that he killed his mother and is sitting in Arkham. A year goes by (like in the show, I guess?) and the next time the reader meets Jerome, he’s on the bus with the cheerleaders and of course Jerome remembers her! ;) Is that too much? ;-;

Requested by: @valeskaduh

So guys, here's the final part 2 of my one shot. Hope you like it as much as part 1!!

Wordcount: 3510

Here's part 1: "https://valeskakingdom.tumblr.com/post/647442495087820800/request

Warning: mention of murder and violence

Credit: @gotham-swag

It was late, something after midnight already.

You both, Jerome and you, still laid in his bed fully covered in sweat thinking back about what has happened before, all the feelings, the pleasure... Everything.

Your clothes laid strayed on the ground; your underwear laid next to the bed while your shirt and pants laid elsewhere in any corners of his room.

Jerome had wrapped is arm around your waist to comfort you whilst you rested your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. It was even and slow.

"That was great, wasn't it?" Jerome broke the silence between you with a slight chuckle.

"Indeed," You chuckled "It was worth it."

"It was. Haven't met a girl that could give that good blowjobs."

"Jerome!" You slapped his chest in embarrassment widening your eyes, a strong blush went over face. You were a little shocked about his assertion, but otherwise you felt honored.

"No need to be embarrassed (Y/N)," Jerome chuckled caressing your side "You could see it as a compliment. I'd choose you over others."

"U-uhm...Thank...you? I feel...honored." You mumbled in embarrassment.

"You're cute when you're shy like that." Jerome smirked, sitting up and took a cigarette from his nightstand and lightened it to smoke.

You hummed saying nothing, just gave him a little smile.

You liked it how he called you cute, and that he liked your shyness. It gave you some hope that maybe that this,between you and him, could turn into something more than just a simple one off. All the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear, all the compliments and intensive kisses... That couldn't come just out of nowhere. You had the feeling something was special between you two; you couldn't say what it was though. All you knew was: you felt different in Jerome's near. It was like you two would know each other for ages.

While Jerome was smoking his cigarette off, his smoke spread through the room that you inhaled it. It didn't bother you, you were used to it from home.

You think took your phone out of the pocket of your pants to behold the clock: 00:37

Time for you to go, you needed to get ready in a few hours for your work.

"Anyways, I think it's time for me to go. Need to stand up early," You sighed grabbing your underwear to take them on "You know, work and such."

"Awww really?" Jerome gave you a little pout while admiring your body for one more time "I enjoyed the time with you."

Again he viewed you from head to toe, admired your curves and your flawless pale skin. His view was giving him chills again and he had the urge to touch again. He missed this feeling of your soft skin, this incredible feeling of him inside you making you moan, or the feeling when you dug your nails in his back because he pleasured you well.

"Me too," You giggled and pulled your pants up to buttoned them, then taking your shirt on "But yeah, I don't wanna be late. My boss becomes mad if anyone's late."

"How's your boss when he's mad?" Jerome asked with a certain leery undertone mixed with jealousy.

He looked at you frowning, his breathe became uneven, he kinda seemed to be upset like if you say a wrong word he's about to explode.

It confused you a little, but you didn't give a shit about it. You thought you maybe were just imagining this jealousy. How could he be jealous anyway? He didn't know you at all so he had nothing to loose when you go.

"Let's say you don't wanna mess around with him. He can be a little scary." You took your shirt on. Now though it wasn't as tight as usual anymore because Jerome tugged it from your body.

"Is he touching you?" Jerome gave you a stern look, his tone became rougher what confused you even more.

"Oh no. No, no, he's just yelling and he hears grudges." You turned to him "It's just annoying, that's all."

"Alright," He nodded standing up to take his boxers on "But wait, before you go..." Jerome walked to his wardrobe taking out a dark grey coat handing it to you "Here, it's cold outside."

"Thank you, but you don't-..."

"It's fine, you can keep it," Jerome smiled "See it as a little reward for the gorgeous night." He winked at you making you blush.

"Thank you." You smiled at him taking his coat on. You smelled his cologne, it smelled like any usual cologne but knowing that it was his made it special.

You both walked to the trailer's front door.

Jerome opened the door, you walked a few steps but turned around to face him. With a smile. You looked at his beautiful shining blue eyes for one last time. More and more you recognized that you liked him. You realized that you've never felt this huge amount of comfortableness and happiness. Sure, in an another relationship you've been happy, too, but not as much as with Jerome.

It was strange, very strange. You couldn't understand how you'd be so attached to a stranger. Maybe it was because Jerome was the perfect guy in your eyes and something gave you the feeling that you two belonged together?

"Well, then," you kissed his cheek quickly "See you around, Jerome."

"See you around, (Y/N). Hope to see ya again." One last time, he gave you this amazing smile before he shut the door.

With a little smile you walked out of the circus. You couldn't wait to visit the circus again to meet Jerome and have an amazing time together.

***

Days went by.

You couldn't stop thinking about Jerome - how kind he was to you, how good he treated you, and let's not forget about the sex, of course. The sex was amazing.

Though you still had his coat. You know you couldn't keep it, you wouldn't feel right about it.

Due to different circumstances, the circus was still in your city. On the one hand, you were curious about the reason why. Maybe there were some complications with travelling? Or maybe they did an extra show and had a lot of work to do to prepare for the show?

On the other hand, all your thoughts focused in Jerome. You were excited: you imagined to hug him, talking to him, laughing with him... Everything you wanted to do when you were able to see him again.

You made your way to Haly's circus with Jerome's coat.

As you arrived, everything seemed to be normal. The circus tent was still constructed, the trailers stood still on the same places as on the day where you visited the show, and the artists still walked around the yard.

You looked around to find someone you could talked to and who you didn't bother; then you saw the Ringmaster who was taking his rings to pack them into his case.

He was a tall colored man with some kind of clown makeup: red cheeks. white makeup was smeared around his face and a fake beard was glued on his upper lip. He was wearing a red suit and a black tophat.

"Hey, uhm...excuse me?" You hesitatingly tapped on his shoulder.

"Hm?" He turned to you with a grunt "The circus is closed for visitors. There ain't be a show today."

"Oh, I know but," as the Ringmaster was about to turn around, you grabbed his arm and turned him back to you "I was just looking for Jerome. He gave me his coat a few days ago and I wanted to give it back."

"Oh, haven't you watched the news? Jerome's in Arkham-..." You widened your in shock, you hoped you haven't heard it right.

"Wait, wait, wait...he's what?!"

Arkham?! Has he really said 'Arkham'?! The asylum where murderers, cannibals and other lunatics are living in?! What is he doing there?! Why is he in Arkham?! What has he done to be busted in there?! These were the thoughts that couldn't get out of your head. Jerome was a criminal? How could he?! He was so kind to me, so polite...was that all just acting? Did he play with my mind?

"He killed his mother with a hatchet. You might know her as the snake dancer." He sighed shaking his head slightly while he kept packing the rings in his suitcase "Let's just hope she didn't have a painful death."

"A-alright...t-thank you..." In shook and disgust, you slowly walk back to your car.

You couldn't believe what you've heard. Jerome was a killer: a blood-thirsty, psychotic and cold-hearted killer. You felt poor, you had the feeling you were about to throw up every minute. You slept with him and you liked it...you even wanted to meet him again!

You were disgusted by yourself.

Now you just wished that you could have changed the past; that you've never slept with him, never let him kiss nor touch you...that you've never even talked to him! You just wished that as he bumped into you, that you ignored him or snapped at him that you and himwoukd have never dealt with each other - everything.

***

*1 year later*

It was a rainy and cloudy day in Gotham.

It was cold, your window panes were fogged through the high temperature difference between your room and outside. In your room, it was warm and comfortable while outside it was cold, almost as cold as in winter.

You were just sitting on the couch eating some sandwiches, drinking a Coke in the hope something new and excited happened in your life.

This day was bearing you down, you didn't know why though. Maybe it was just the weather? You had no idea. You just felt empty inside since last year. And you exactly knew why.

You still couldn't believe the fact Jerome was a killer. You couldn't imagine how an actual kind and smart boy with a gorgeous smile, ginger hair, blue eyes and some abs could grab a hatchet to kill his own mother. You just wished it was a lie and that reality played a bad game with you. For sure, you didn't know Jerome completely, you've just met him once but still you could say that this all felt so wrong.

It was the disgust that caused this feeling. You were disgusted by the thought that you allowed a murderer playing with your mind to get in your pants while he was about to murder something behind your back. You were disgusted by the thought that you imagined you and him being a couple, that you wanted to date him... You were disgusted by everything that included him because it reminded you of all this. When you just heard the name Jerome, you felt shivers down your spine and a feeling mixed of disgust and feeling poor.

One thing that confused you was: you couldn't throw his coat in the trash can. You kept it, it hung in your wardrobe and you smelled on it every day because his cologne was still buried in it, then you remembered the gorgeous night you had with him and all the feeling you felt...But then you remembered who he really was and what he has done right after the meeting of you which caused you to close your wardrobe fast and walking out of our room to quickly forget all that - day by day.

Full of boredom, you turned the TV on hoping something could entertain you there.

But then you saw this:

"Hello, Gotham City! We're the Maniax and I'm Jerome, the shot caller of our little gang. We're here to spread the message of wisdom and hope!"

You couldn't believe your eyes. It was Jerome with a bloody nose who cackled shortly, then shot a cop because he coughed and groaned in pain - he apparently disturbed his little show. He was back, he escaped out of Arkham.

Your body was shaking, your breathe was uneven - you were paralyzed.

You started panicking. No place felt safe for you anymore, especially not your little apartment. You needed to be with someone. You thought, when you're alone you'd be fucked. Maybe he remembered you and wanted to look for you? You remembered that he told you, he'd choose you over others. Of course, they could have been just words but now you never know... He was a psycho who might remember everything.

"Some people have no manners." He took a deeper look in the camera "You're all prisoners. What you call sanity, it's just a prison in your minds that stops you from seeing that y'all are a just tiny little cogs in a tiny absurd machine! WAKE UP!"

Jerome yelled in the TV what made you flinch and you curled up in your couch wrapping your arms around your legs tight. Your face was half hidden being your knees that you were still able to watch his little show - but with fear.

"Why be a cog? Be free like us!" Jerome started to cackle "And just remember, smile" he cackled squishing the dead cop's cheek while cackling louder.

Then you heard horns honking, the police was haunting him.

"Oh, time to go!" He crawled down do the ground taking a police head on and still held the camera tight "But dont worry, we'll be back very soon! Hang onto your hats folks, 'cause you ain't see nothing yet!" Jerome cackled insanely but you immediately turned the TV off.

You grabbed your phone fast to call your best friend (Y/bff/n). You needed to be with them. Being alone in a little apartment would just driving you nuts, especially when Jerome was out!

Your best friend was the only one who knew about Jerome being your one off as they knew that Jerome was a killer so they surely understood why you were so scared. You didn't want to risk anything - whether he'd remember you or not, you didn't want to be alone.

Your phone was ringing, you hoped they'd pick up the phone:

(Y/bff/n): hey (Y/n)! Wha-...

(Y/n): Have you watched the news?!

(Y/bff/n): Uhm...no, why? And why are y-...

(Y/n): Jerome's out of Arkham!!

(Y/bff/n): Wait what?! Are you sure it's the Jerome you're thinking of??

(Y/n): he was in the TV...he's planning something... Can stay with you? I can't stay alone. It's driving me nuts. I already have the feeling he's eyeing me from several corners.

(Y/bff/n): Of course! Come over now. We'll get your stuff later.

(Y/n): Thank you! I'm on my way already! See you!

You hung up, immediately taking your jacket, your phone, your keys and some shoes.

You ran out of your apartment, locking your door and walked straight to the next bus station.

You were in a hurry. Outside you didn't feel well at all. You felt being watched, being haunted. You had the feeling Jerome was everywhere and that he just waited the perfect moment to catch you. Everytime someone was walking past you, you felt shivers down your spine and you were scared that any person was a member of 'the Maniax' and kidnap you and bring you to Jerome. You walked faster to the bus station to arrive your best friend's home as fast as possible. You turned your head to the left, to the right, to see whether someone was haunting you. No one did though. It was just your mind.

As you arrived station, the bus came immediately.

You entered the bus as it stopped and chose a seat in the back.Everywhere around you cheerleaders were gossiping, laughing, squeaking about any boy who kissed a friend and such. You instead kept quiet and looked out of the window.

After a few minutes of driving, the bus stopped through a red car from the fire service that blocked its way. Its horns were honking and you could hear someone was getting out of the car.

You saw a ginger guy dancing out of the car on his way to the entrance of the bus. Your heart stopped. Was it Jerome? Was now the moment where you life will end?

He knocked at the door with something, the cheerleaders started to scream.

Something bad will happen now was what you thought while your pulse was running, your sweat was dripping down your forehead, and your hands were shaking. You wanted to cry, you wanted to crawl back in a corner and hope everything will be fine.

Suddenly the door opened, strangers in white suits with guns entered the bus and put us all in handcuffs that were sticker on chains while they pointed their guns at your heads. But for an unknown reason they went out immediately after everyone in the bus was handcuffed.

Cheerleaders were screaming louder, some even started to cry, to son, and to beg for mercy. You instead kept quiet. You couldn't scream. You were in shock and panic, in fear, some tears were already streaming down your cheeks while you tried break free - you failed.

"I want you all to know," you suddenly heard a familiar voice that paralyzed you in shock - he was here "this was a very difficult decision for us. It was between you and uhm... senior citizen bingo party. In the end we decided to skew a little younger. Youth won the day. Sorry." Jerome walked through the bus eyeing each cheerleader girl and pointed his gun at their heads.

With every step he did, you could hear a clicker-clacker caused by his shoes.

Your heartbeat felt like it could explode every minute. You had the feeling you would die soon. More and more tears streamed down your face, you were sobbing in fear, your hands shook uncontrollably. You just wished, you'd come out here alive.

Then Jerome stopped walking, he was eyeing you in surprise and excitement.

"(Y/n)?!" He bended down to you in astonishment completely around him that all the cheerleaders around him were crying and sobbing, and so were you "My, my, my, look at you. You've grown up in that time we haven't seen each other. How you're doing?"

You said nothing, you were just confused about his behavior.

What was wrong with him? Just a few minutes ago he was about to kill us and now he's behaving like an innocent child?! Was what you thought as you just gave him a confused look.

You were still scared though, maybe again he was just playing with your mind as one year ago just to get you?

"It's so good to see you (Y/n), you know that?" He sighed with a smile on his face leaning his elbow against the seat in front of you to lean his head against his hand "I really couldn't stop thinking about you when I was busted in this dirty old shack. The night in my trailer with you...it was marvellous! I still know each part of your body in detail...it brought me many good nights in my cell." Jerome chuckled dark.

You didn't know what to say. Was he about to kill you now? Was it all just a trick again? Do you have to feel honored now that he thought about you every night and jerked off your body?

You stared into his blue eyes, you could tell he was planning something new - and this time it included you.

"Yeah," Jerome kept staring at you with his grin in his face "Anyways, what's new in your life?"

"U-uhm...p-pretty boring...," You sniffed "Nothing has r-really changed since l-last y-year." You stammered feeling odd about having a normal conversation in such an actually dangerous situation.

"Hm..." Jerome hummed flicking his tongue "You know, actually I wanted to splash gasoline all over the cheerleaders and burn them but...now that you are here... I take you with me and THEN I continue my plan." Jerome uncuffed your hands taking them tight and ran with you out of the bus, the other cheeleaders started to scream and cry again and again begged for mercy.

As you and Jerome stood in front the open entrance of the bus, he softly wiped some hair strains behind your ear. With his thumb he caressed your soft skin and wiped all the tears and smeared mascara away.

Jerome smiled at you admiring your face for a while. He looked deep in your eyes, then down to your lips. With a finger snip your fear was gone, the feeling of uncomfortableness faded slowly. Your breathe was uneven though, his personality changes scared you still. Your hands was still trembling, your knees weak. But something told you that you didn't need to be scared of him anymore. He at least safed you.

"From now on, doll, you're mine."

[arilie]

GOD OF WAR

Ares!Eren X GreekPrincess!Reader

Rating: NSFW

Summary: A war waged on a small island that guarded a prize wanted by all of Greece. After years of bloodshed and battles, an unknown warrior graces the battlefield. He swiftly disposes of the armies and makes it to the gates of the castle that held the golden trophy. You stared into his eyes and realized who he was, and that he had come to claim you.

A/N: This was started at like two in the morning and I stayed up wayyyy too late writing it. Shoutout to Izzy for the prompt, this will definitely be a multiple part series because I have so many ideas. Enjoy!

IMPORTANT: this work was inspired by the art posted by @/artofneight on Instagram. Here’s the link to their page!

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https://instagram.com/artofneight?igshid=x1dz5mawokpj

Please do not repost my work without proper credit. Likes, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!!

Helen was known to be the most beautiful woman in all of Greece. Thousands of men and mighty kings fought in Troy for a decade in her name. Even the great hero Achilles was seen on the battlefield, roaring in the name of great Helen. You wondered if she was truly that beautiful, and if her hand in marriage was worth so much bloodshed. As you looked out the window of your bedroom and onto the fortified walls of the castle, you also wondered if this is what she saw. Massive walls caging the castle in a protective circle. A sea of men armed to their necks in weapons stood before the walls. Beyond them were fields that were once a vibrant green. After years of war, the plains were now brown from all the blood they’ve soaked. It wasn’t unusual for you to sit beside your window and stare at the clouds of smoke and listen to the distant sounds of the battles. You have debated if this was all worth the deaths and massacres you’re sure have occurred on your land.

Five years later, the effort to overthrow your father and his reign was still raging on. Your people had options of course: side with the traitors or remain under the rule of the royal family. Those still loyal were the ones serving in your military. But after years of grueling battles your numbers were starting to fall. Your military fought against those part of the coup, and those from other kingdoms. The other nations of Greece were patient and their patience was rewarded with the uprising that suddenly occurred. They took the opportunity to try and take the island themselves. Many of them focused their efforts on the sea, fighting off other nations who wanted to join the war. Those who made it on land either joined the coup or fought against them. The island and its treasures were the spoils of war, but the biggest prize gazed out of a palace window deep on the island.

-

Winter was finally coming to an end, and you saw Demeter’s happiness in the way your plants were flourishing. They were the only things you could really have since the war started. Everything else went towards the war effort and trying to keep the army afloat. You stroked the petal of the flowers perched on your window. Persephone finally returned home from the underworld, and your flowers shared her mother’s joy. The air still had a chill from the remaining fragments of winter. You pulled on the silk that rested on your shoulders. The morning was still frigid and you wanted nothing more than to bury under the warm covers on your bed. Before you could act on your temptations, a knock was heard from your door.

“Y/n? Are you awake yet?”

“Yes I am awake. Please come in.” You replied.

A maid dressed in a simple dress entered your bedroom. In her hands she held a shining dress that had beautiful lace adorning it. You frowned at the item in her hands and stood from your spot near the window. The maid had placed the offending dress on a chair while she fussed over your bed. Watching her tidy the bed made you sigh in regret about not having dove under the covers. You picked up the dress and tried to keep the frown from deepening on your face. You knew this was expensive, you grew up with lavishness and riches many dreamed of. You were a woman after all, who didn’t like a new sparkling dress? But you knew your people—those left—needed it more than you did.

“Did this recently come in?” You asked.

The young maid jumped slightly at being addressed. “Yes my lady, the seamstress that has always made your clothes dropped it off this morning. She left some other items as well, but I thought you might want to wear that today.”

You hummed as an answer and placed the dress back on the chair. The soft patter of your feet was heard as you crossed your bedroom to the wardrobe that contained your clothes. You opened it, picked out an equally expensive dress and held it up.

“I’ve worn this dress maybe once, and I have hundreds more that haven’t even been touched. I don’t think I need new ones. I’ll take what I absolutely need from the seamstress. I want you to sell the rest and distribute it evenly among the workers in the palace.”

The poor girl flushed deep red. You didn’t know if it was at the generosity you just displayed, or the fact that she somehow displeased you.

“Please don’t think you have offended me. I appreciate the thought and tell the seamstress I loved it. What happens to my clothes stays between us, you understand?” You said.

The pink-cheeked girl nodded her head up and down furiously. You smiled at her and gestured for her to help you get dressed. She scurried behind you and helped you remove your nightgown. The linen on the dress you took out was soft against your skin. You thanked the girl for helping you and you finished tying off the dress.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“My name is Clio, your highness.” The maid answered.

“From now on you’ll be the only one who is allowed to dress me. I look forward to getting to know you, Clio.” You smiled at the younger girl. She stammered before thanking you profusely. You reached out and stroked her hair lovingly.

“Please go and do what I said for my clothes. Once it’s done come by and let me know.” You said.

Clio curtsied before she grabbed the glittering dress from the chair and rushed out of the room. You glanced down at the one you put on and realized it really was one you barely wore. The war made you realize how much you had, and how little others did. You straightened your shoulders and shook the thoughts out of your head. Every morning you and your parents met to discuss any changes in the war. It was usually the same thing every dawn, this army retreated while the other was victorious. You saw no end to it all.

The palace walls were still warming up after the cold night that passed. You were grateful for the warm dress you picked out earlier that morning. Each servant that passed by greeted you and you responded with a soft “good morning” to each one. You were known to be kind and elegant. Your mother taught you well on the principles of how to be a princess. Even though it was rumored you were among the most beautiful princesses in Greece, you were sure you were the most boring. You kept to yourself and focused your energy on your people and your kingdom. You didn’t know how to entertain, let alone keep the attention of a man. If it wasn’t for the war, you’re sure you’d be stumbling from one match up to the next.

The throne room was grand and fitted for the rulers of the kingdom. Your father and mother’s thrones were the same in height, displaying the natural balance they shared in power. You were raised to believe that no man was allowed to keep you as a pretty ornate on his arm. You were born to rule, and that’s what you would do. The chair beside your father’s was yours. It was smaller, but no less striking and imposing. It was in this room you all listened to the pleas and demands of your people. The room has been empty of any subjects since the war began. You walked through the room and took a turn into another, more private room. This was where you and your parents met every morning.

“Good morning my darling y/n, how was your sleep?” Your father stood from the chair he was occupying. You smiled warmly at him and walked into his embrace.

“It was fine, father. Although I can see that yours wasn’t as peaceful.” You remarked. The bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced, and his hair continued to gray at lightning speed.

“War does that to a person I’m afraid. You’re old enough to understand.” The king said.

You gave him a look before your mother came in with a swirl of fragrance and poise. She captured everyone in the room in the grace she held herself in. You were in awe of her when you were little, and you hoped you could have a husband who looked at you like your father did your mother.

“Good morning mother. I was just telling father that he needs to prioritize his rest. He looks like he’s already preparing for Thanatos to come pay a visit.” You teased. Your father still had his arms around you and pinched your hip in retaliation. You squealed and jumped away.

“Yes he certainly does look that way doesn’t he? One could say he’s already in Hades’ domain.” Your mother replied. You heard your father huff in mock anger before the queen kissed his cheek in apology.

“Now that we have concluded the discussion on my withering, I have some news for the both of you.” Your father said. His face suddenly turned serious and the prospect of something finally changing in the war made you sit down in the chair beside his.

“Plague has struck all of the armies except ours. Even those participating in the coup against us have fallen gravely ill. I got this report this morning. I have yet to talk to a priest, but I am not sure if this is the work of a god yet.”

You blinked up at him while you tried to process his words. A plague had struck. Your army was spared but for how long? You picked at the skin beside your nails, a habit your mother has tried to break all your life. The woman in question looked horrified for a second before she composed herself. She was calm and collected whereas my father was brash.

“That’s not all; a warrior has risen among the armies. It seems that he fights alone. I’ve gotten reports that he plows through every brigade and unit mercilessly. He’s getting closer and closer to the castle each day.” Your father said grimly.

This news made your breath hitch. If the so-called warrior made it to the walls—no, if he made it passed them—he’d ask for a reward. You turned to look at your father and saw he was already looking at you.

“If he makes it here, he’ll ask for me as a prize, won’t he?” You asked.

Your father sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Such casualness was only reserved for you and his wife. In front of others he must always convey an act of indifference; not letting his emotions show. You knew giving your hand in marriage was something that had to be included in a peace offering. He wished he could keep you safe in the palace forever, but the bloody war had to come to an end.

“Father, it is alright if he does ask for my hand. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this war end. I want peace as desperately as you do. Our people have suffered too much.” You clasped his hand away from his face and into yours.

Your mother remained quiet, but you expected nothing less. She was more distant with you, having grown up in a different nation with different rules. She didn’t approve of your independence, but you knew she’d agree with you. The king seemed to age in his seat more as he debated your statement. You couldn’t stand to see him in this state any longer.

Before you could answer, your mother intervened, “It is decided then. If he does make it to the castle and gets past the walls, we will give him what he asks for. If that prize is y/n, we can use it to convince the other kingdoms to sign a treaty. The biggest prize would have been claimed and the war doesn’t need to continue.”

You digested your mother’s words and let go of your fathers hand so he wouldn’t feel the tremble in your fingers. You hoped the warrior slashing through all those men would be kind to you. You felt like a child again, hoping that fate would give you mercy for once.

-

The next morning, you were abruptly woken to the shouts of the guards outside your window. You stirred in your sleep, not paying much mind to the ruckus of men. Then you realized, those men were the ones guarding the walls. You jolted upright in your bed and swung the covers off of your body. The chill of the morning air bit at your exposed arms and legs. Clinging to the side of the window, you watched as the men outside all fought against a single enemy. At first, you were confused as to why it took so many of them. You didn’t see infantries and captains on horses. Then a single chill ran down your spine as you realized: the warrior.

You quickly opened your wardrobe and pulled out the first dress you could find. You hastily undressed yourself and put the dress on. If he made it past the walls, you needed to be present. It was just yesterday you were discussing this. Had he been that close already? Who was this man?

Having the dress securely on, you almost sprinted out the door of your bedroom. You hurried to the throne room where no doubt your parents were also arriving at. When you entered, you saw your mother sitting on her throne with her king pacing before her. You walked quickly to them and stood before their thrones gasping for breath. You made eye contact with your mother and for the first time in your life you saw nervousness. Your mother’s blatant show of emotions did nothing to stop the galloping of your heart.

The doors of the throne room were slammed open and you all turned towards the intruder. Standing before you was a man well over six feet. His hips had a white cloth around them that hung loose. His torso was bare and exposed, a clear sign of strength. No wounds were littering the ripples of muscle that shifted as he walked towards you. What armor he did have clanged as he walked; the bronze pieces were placed on his shoulders and around his calves. Dark brown sandals adorned his feet, and he held a mighty spear with one hand and a shield in the other. The shield had two wings adorned on it, a symbol that seemed almost familiar. Once he got close enough, he removed his helmet to reveal his handsome face. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were a forest green. His jaw was sharp and was clenched shut. His hair was past his shoulders and the brown accentuated his beautiful eyes.

You backed up against your father, and he came to stand before you. No words were spoken in the first few seconds, the shock of it all weighing on your shoulders. The warrior then inclined his head in a greeting. His lack of bow indicated he was someone important, of higher or equal standard to your father.

“Greetings. I have fought against many men and many armies to make it to this fortress. I heard a tale that a beautiful maiden was hidden away here. I have come to claim her as my prize.” The warrior said.

Your father didn’t react at first and you saw his fists clenched by his sides. Your mother soon came too and took his hand, instantly relaxing him.

“May we ask first who you are? It has been many years since this war began, and not one army has made it halfway to this castle. Yet here you stand, alone.” Your mother’s tone was curious.

“This war has been going on long enough, with no end in sight. As you said, no one has gotten remotely close to this castle. I thought it was about time I stepped in and put an end to things.” The warrior smiled and the wings on his shield glowed. I gasped as I finally remembered, the wings were the symbol of the gods. A man who obliterated armies and made it here alone was no man at all.

I stepped forward and passed my parents. The warrior—god, looked into my eyes and a warmth spread throughout my entire body. None of us spoke again, we stared into each other’s eyes as if looking for the answers to our own questions. I went through all the names of the gods and who would have any remote interest in a human war.

“I am Ares, god of war and brother to Zeus, king of the gods. I quite enjoyed the prayers and offerings this war brought to me in the beginning. But I believe this war has lasted too long now.” Ares said.

You felt a hand wrap around your arm before you were dragged back and into the chest of your father. You trembled in his grasp, not quite believing what you were hearing. The god of war has come to claim the prize all of Greece was fighting for. Not just any minor god either, an Olympian.

“Ares, god of war, you are welcomed into my home and in my kingdom. We will do our best to ensure your comfort and pleasure while you are here. But if I may be so bold, is my daughter really the only prize you want?” The king asked. You glanced at the glowing god before you and his eyes held a humor to them.

“Yes, I’d like your daughter’s hand in marriage. My siblings have claimed mortals as their spouses and I have yet to. Of course, if my wish is granted I will also stop the war.”

You froze at the last sentence. If you accepted his request, you could end the war for once and for all. You wove out of your father’s protective arms and turned towards the god of war. You took a deep breath in, looked at him in the eyes and curtsied as low as you could.

“I accept your request, my lord. So long as you end the suffering that my people have endured all these years, I will be your wife.” You said shakily.

Ares grinned as he lifted his hand towards you. You took his offered palm and he lifted you off the ground with ease. “Starting now, you will be my equal. You bow down to no one, not even to me.”

You widen your eyes in surprise before you nod your head. You turn back to your parents and a look of bewilderment overtook their features. Ares pulled on your hand some more until you were pressed against his side. His body radiates warmth and power. His smell was that of the hearth and firewood. It was intoxicating.

“Please announce the news that y/n is engaged. I will see to it that this war can finally end on peaceful terms.” Ares declared. Your parents looked at each other before they looked at you. You were still in shock of the events happening, but you gave them a reassuring nod. It was the start of something unforgettable.

-

Ares had kept his word and made sure the war ended. He revealed himself to the armies of Greece and declared your kingdom under his protection. Soon the armies dispersed and left your land barren for the first time in five years. The princess y/n was finally claimed, and Ares was the one who got her hand in marriage.

You spent most of your time enjoying the freedom you had once again. You were able to take strolls out in the gardens and pick more flowers for your bedroom. Ares had been occupied with the ending of the war, but he made sure to visit when he had the chance. He was witty, sarcastic, and everything a god should be. He was radiant and you quickly grew infatuated with him. He joined you on your strolls to the garden and helped you pick flowers. It had been months now since he first arrived at your castle, declaring that he would marry you. The wedding preparations were going as fast as they could after the end of a war.

You picked up a lily that you found and smelled it. The aroma made you sigh in delight. Arms suddenly encircled your waist and a strong chest pressed against your back. You kept the flower close to your face as you were turned to face the perpetrator. Ares glanced down at you and noticed the petals hiding the blush on your cheeks. He chuckled to himself and slowly moved the flower away from your face. He traced your features with his fingers and the gesture had your knees weak.

“We are intended to be married, yet you still blush in my presence.” He said.

“You are a god and I am a mere mortal. I still do not understand why you chose me as your prize.” You confessed.

He grew suddenly serious and you were afraid you had said something offensive. You opened your mouth to apologize when he leaned down to kiss you. His lips were as warm as the rest of him, and their softness made you melt against him. He grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him so his burning chest was against yours. You realized that he was always warm as if he was aflame. Your hands twitched before they reached for his shoulders. He sighed against your lips as they moved with practice and ease. His silky hair brushed against your fingers as you held onto his shoulders for support.

When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours and cupped your cheek. His thumb stroked against the blush still present on your skin. You blinked up at him, still in awe of the kiss he placed on your lips.

“I’ve heard about you for some time now. I knew of your beauty first and was intrigued. Then I watched over you and saw how truly cared for your people. You’d put their happiness over yours in a heartbeat. I admire that, you’d make a fine queen.” He said softly.

You let out a breath and used your grip on his shoulders to drag his addicting lips back to yours. You felt bold as you stood on the tips of your toes and crashed your lips against his. His shock only lasted a second before he cupped your face with both hands. The kiss was more intense than the first, a clear longing present in his tongue as it brushed against your lip. Electricity shot down to your toes as you granted him passage, and you didn’t know if kissing you was enjoyable due to your inexperience. His tongue prodded at yours and coaxed it into a dance that had your legs shaking.

Finally breaking apart, you looked into his deep green eyes once again. His mouth was pulled into a mischievous smirk, and you gave him a small smile in return. If he was to be your husband, you figured you could enjoy the pleasantries that came with your marriage.

“You make me feel like a mortal barely plunging into maturity. I can barely control myself around you.” Ares whispered.

“I am to be your wife, please don’t hold back.” You replied. Your eyes were sultry and he quickly grabbed your arm before pulling you back into the castle. Your chest was full of fluttering monarchs at the prospect of him finally letting go and indulging himself in you.

Servants and soldiers watched you with silent eyes as the god of war dragged you to your chambers. Your blush was evident, and you thanked his siblings for watching over you and placing your parents in another part of the castle.

The door to your bedroom was pushed open and once it closed Ares pushed your back against it. You huffed at the slight force and impact before your lips were once again trapped against his. He snaked his knee between your knees and pressed it against you. You gasped at the feeling and decided to be bold again as you grind down against his thigh. He groaned against your mouth before departing from it. He placed kisses along your jaw and sucked on the space just beneath it. He continued to place searing kisses on your neck as he used his leg to further drive you up the door.

“I won’t take you here, not until you have the security of our marriage as comfort. But there are other things we can do.” Ares mumbled into your neck. He pulled back to look at you, flustered and with lust swirling in your eyes. He suddenly reached under your thighs and lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his lithe waist and he carried you towards your bed.

He gently placed you on the soft cushion and began to slowly untie your linen dress. You stroked his arms and admired the muscle that rippled under the skin like strong waves in a storm. Once your dress was untied, he pulled it up and you took the indication to sit up. He took the dress up and over your head as you lifted your arms. The dress fluttered onto the floor beside your bed as you laid back down. You were told all your life that your beauty could rival Helen’s, but you didn’t believe it until the god in front of you stared at you like you placed the cosmos in the sky.

He leaned down and began to place kisses down your chest until he reached your chest. He whispered praise against your skin as he took one into his mouth and held the other. You took in a sharp breath and let out a low whine as he worked you into oblivion. His tongue was running over your nipple and you squirmed beneath his strong body as he massaged the other. He finally relented and switched breasts until he had you moaning. He smirked up at you as you gasped in the air you desperately needed.

“I’ve barely just begun and you’re already so responsive. I can’t wait for our waiting night.” The god quipped. He trailed his lips lower until it got to the undergarments that covered you. He pulled them down from your hips and his eyes sparkled at how wet you were already. He placed kisses against your inner thighs as he pulled the piece of fabric off of your legs. Then he breathed against you until he placed his mouth on your clit. You threw your head back and cried out. You’ve touched yourself and are aware of what you like and don’t. But all of your preferences were forgotten as he ate you out like a starved man. He moaned against you as your hands reached down to pull on his hair. He licked and sucked on your clit until you were writhing in pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

“Ares, please…” you whined.

“Use your words, darling. What do you need?” He said.

Your chest heaved as he continued to suck your clothes making you take longer to respond. “Need your fingers inside. Wanna feel them inside please.”

Evergreen eyes looked up at you, and the sight of the god of war between your thighs had you losing your breath. His hand resting on one of your legs came up to your entrance. He erotically licked his lips and slowly eased them into you. Your head was thrown back as you moaned into your pillow. He began to pump his long fingers until his hand was in up to his knuckle. He began to make a motion upwards that had the tips of his fingers press against a spot within you that made you yelp. He grinned up at you as he began to twist and push against the same spot. There was a pressure in your abdomen as he continued to pleasure you. Then his mouth was on you again and you were crying out his name.

“Ares! Yes, right there! Please, please make me cum. I want to cum, let me cum please.” You cried. Your pleading words increased his efforts and you moaned loudly. His hair was still gripped between your fingers and his unoccupied hand was digging bruises into your hip. You felt scorching hot pleasure shoot from your core to the rest of your body.

“Cum for me, y/n. Show me how good I make you feel.” Ares growled beneath you.

One final push and suck had you opening your mouth in a silent scream. The pressure in you finally released making you feel white hot pleasure. Your legs shook as Ares continued his ministrations, prolonging your orgasm into the realm of overstimulation. You whimpered once you came down from your high, pulling against his hair to indicate you were done. He looked up at you and he licked his lips as if the very ambrosia that gave him sustenance was placed within you. He licked his fingers in the same manner, and you felt your body heat up again at the display. He crawled up your body and captured your lips in a searing kiss. You tasted your essence and didn’t mind as his tongue pushed against yours.

He pulled away and laid beside you as he took you into his arms. “That was just a glimpse into the pleasure I can bring to you. When we are married, I’ll lay my claim on you in the most passionate way.”

You smiled up at him and placed your hands on his chest. This was barely the beginning of your life with him, and you couldn’t deny the want and need the thrummed within you. An Olympian, the very god of war chose you as his. You were ready to see what else that entailed.

[nebula-jazz]

His World part 5

Dragon Alpha Bakugou x omega reader

warnings: this part has depictions of violence. Please do not report or hate. This is just how I have set up my story.

Your recovery was slow but a certain Alpha didn’t leave. When you were well enough he introduced you to his friends. Or you assumed that they were his friends, he refused to say so. There was a blonde named Denki, a redhead named Kirishima, a pink haired girl named Mina, and a brunette named Sero.

They came and said hello one at a time and at different times. This struck you as odd. You had met Kirishima last and had asked what was going on. He paused, Bakugou had left to go see if you had any meat left in your shead and Kirishima had made sure he was gone. He sighed.

“You can’t tell Bakugou that I told you but...” He hesitated as he tried to find the words to explain. “He asked if we could help watch over your land... That alpha that had threatened is still trying to get you.”

You felt the blood leave your face. Your skin prickled with mild panic. You had to go into town in a few weeks. Winter was ending and at the beginning of spring the king would gather taxes for land, food and protection. And even though your land was separate you still were taxed heavily on food and ‘protection’. King Endeavor was not a kind man to people who lived on dragon land especially since his son had ran off with one.

You explained what was going to happen and Kirishima’s face dropped.

“Are you sure you pay taxes? I mean you don’t live on his land.” You smiled sadly at his ignorance.

“Yes I do. I sell my vegetables in town so that I can have tools and clothes. And because of that he views me as a citizen. He especially knows I exist, since there are so few people who live on dragon land he has a specialized tax for people who do.” You heard a booming growl from behind you. You turned around to see a slightly pissed Bakugou.

“’Specialized tax’? What the fuck?!” You chuckled slightly at his anger. You felt endeared at his obvious worry.

“It’s just a few shekels more. The king claims says it’s for protection against dragons. But I don’t see why he always has me pay more than the other land owners. I think it's because my family was able to get more land from you guys than he ever will.” You said honestly. Kirishima seemed irritated this time. This surprised you because all you had seen from him that past several days was that he had the patience of a saint.

“It pisses me off that we are seen as a threat to everyone. It has been years upon years since any dragon has hurt any human without reason.” He ground out between his clenched teeth. You set a gentle on his shoulder and tried to make your scent calmer. You noticed the visible change of the two alphas.

“I have never been scared of you all. I only met one dragon before my parents...” You trailed off before you shook your head. “He was a decent sized golden dragon. My father said that he was the largest gold he had ever seen. The poor guy was coughing up blood and had a lot of internal injuries. We couldn’t do much. We did what we could before he left in the night and left a large part of his horde. My father said that because of his kindness we were able to live very comfortably and build most of what I have now. We could have had made this building more comfortable and fortified if our taxes didn’t go up so drastically.”

You finished with a sad sigh. They said nothing before you looked up and saw a unfamiliar look of awe on Bakugou’s face.

“You met the great dragon All Might?” He asked in a hushed whisper. Confused you nodded.

“Awesome..” Said Kirishima.

You sat in awkward silence as Bakugou started to cook. A feminine throat cleared and you looked over to a confused Mina holding a paper.

“Some dude was putting this on your fence on the border closest to the town.” Your face contorted into distaste.

“That must this years taxes. May I?” you asked and held out your hand she bounded over and handed the thick parchment over. You read over it slowly as to make sure you caught everything. When you reached the amount your mouth went dry. It was personal letter from the king.

Dear y/n l/n,

It has been brought to my attention that you have been harboring and nursing a dragon on your land. If you do not pay a fine of 300 gold by the last day of taxes you will be tried for treason. As you well know the punishment for treason for omegas is mutilation of all scent glands publicly. And all housing will be stripped from you.

Sincerely,

King Endeavor

“300 gold?” You whispered in horror. Mutilated scent gland ment painful heats, no mate ever, and would end with omega depression before death. You scent must’ve become bitter with your panic, because Bakugou stormed over and read over the post.

“Mutilation of scent glands?! No wonder Deku’s mate was in so much pain.” He growled. Mina’s and Kirishima’s scent spiked at the news.

“I don’t have 300. I only have 15.” You breathed. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. 

“What did it say.” Asked Mina gently. You swallowed hard to try and get rid of the lump in your throat.

“Unless I pay 300 gold I will lose everything except the land and will be tried for treason.” Mina’s eyes brimmed with tears at your next words. “I will be found guilty because the king will be judge and jury... And all my scent glands will be mutilated publicly.”

You could smell all three of their scents turn burnt with anger. Kirishima spoke up. His voice broke in several places as he did.

“They willingly do that to omegas?” His eyes begged for the information to be a lie. You slowly nodded.

“Its horrifying to watch. They did a mated omega when I was younger. They were one of the only willingly mated couple and were very nice. They stripped her of all clothes and slowly destroyed each gland. I remember having nightmares from both of their screams.” The room became cold after that. 

Bakugou cleared his throat.

“But that won’t happen. You have enough right?” He said in a very gruff voice. Your throat constricted and you had to take several steading breaths as you stared at the ceiling to try and prevent tears. Your obvious distraught did not go unnoticed. The three alphas started pumping out calming scents as they all turned panicked.

“No. I don’t.”

~~~~~~

That night when you had gone to bed Bakugou paced in front of his friends. He had already talked to Kirishima and Kirishima was currently pacing the border. The three remaining friends watched him silently. Knowing that when he was ready, he would speak, as it was Bakugou who called them. Bakugou would pause clear his throat then go back to pacing.

Anxiety racked his brain even though it showed as anger. He had already made up his mind. He was just worried about his friends reactions. He finally turned on his heel and faced them. He was met with faces of concern and confusion.

“I’m flying back to my horde tomorrow night after Y/N goes to bed. I am not allowing that scumbag of a king to threaten my-” he cleared his throat again his face turning a slight shade of red. “Im not going to let Y/N get mutilated like that.” they all had to hold back laughter. Denki was the first to speak up.

“Your dragon has already chosen them. Hasn’t it?” Bakugou clicked his tongue.

“That’s all I wanted to say. Just protect them while I’m gone.” They nodded as he turned around and headed back into the house.

The answer was yes. And it was the most thrilling and terrifying thing that Bakugou was completely was ok. He started to live for all the small things that you did that he had noticed over the months he had stayed with you. It sent his stomach rolling and shivers up his spine. It sent him running yet wanting more. He was conflicted yet had made up his mind.

He quietly entered the upper room in which he had moved you. his scowl softened slightly as he gently traced your face. You sighed and cuddled into his hand. A small smile tugged at his lips and he tried to get up so he would sleep on the bottom floor. But your whimper of protest and you drowsy voice made his walls crumble.

“Stay...” Was your sleepy request. He let out a steady low purr as he carefully laid next to you. Your body visibly relaxed and you smiled and curled into his chest.

He knew you would embarrassed in the morning, but right now he just reveled in that he could hold you. So he wrapped his cape and arms around you and dozed.

Tags!!!!!

@theteddybearknight @bubbzibubbles @tspice283 @mikithekiki @damnirina @inumorph @staysstrays @tokyo-crow @khemz1312 @mykuronekome @just-mirko @kpop-andanime @just-jazz-things @darlingely @reblogs-of-things-i-like @burntspaghettio @loveableasshole @thrrud @pasteldaze @lexy586

[leia-imogen]

aaron & the family he's found all by himself; vol. 2 // vol. 1

( ft. short jokes, a belated birthday shopping trip, & an ultra-chaotic winter break )

( for @criswisstuff & anyone who enjoyed the first one <3 )

savannah, who is 5'9, is constantly teasing aaron and cleo for being short. katelyn's good at 5'6, and also a bit impossible to tease bcs she's the actual best, so she gets to escape this

cleo ( 5'2 ) is perfectly delighted to have someone shorter than her for once in her life, even by only 2 inches

aaron: guys, just try and see this from my point of view

sav: [ collapses ]

katelyn: [ crouches down ]

cleo: [ sits cross-legged on floor ]

aaron: dude you're literally 2 inches taller than me

cleo: 2 and a quarter

sav is so smug about this but in a good-natured way, in that she and cleo call aaron "kid" or "kiddo" or "pipsqueak" and he doesn't mind bcs they always say it w such a huge smile and he likes to respond to sav with "how's the weather up there, tall-ass?"

and katelyn thinks it's ridiculously adorable how tiny aaron is and obviously she uses him as an armrest all the time

katelyn, petting aaron's hair: guys guys omg he's like an angsty mini blond kitten and i would kill for him <3

sav, popping up between them: mini-yard :))

before i get super distracted, i just wanna mention that aaron met sav and cleo towards the end of november, so they missed the twin's birthday

but sav still insists that she must take him shopping bcs sure his fashion sense is fine but there's always room for improvement, isn't there, aaron??

he relents, so long as she and cleo and katelyn ( who already gave him a birthday present?? why's she doing this??? ) don't spend too much money

sav drags him all around south carolina to the best thrift stores she can find and cleo and katelyn are amazed that she can get such fantastic deals on the supermodel clothes she wears

fr she's literally a fashion design major ( + minoring in business management ) and she shows up to class in skilfully done drugstore makeup and an absolutely killer outfit for like 15 bucks

she grew up poor, and she's still poor now, even if she ( thankfully ) managed to scrape a cheerleading scholarship

sav, flicking through a rack of dresses labelled $4 apiece: RIP to little miss rich bitch reynolds but i'm different ;)

no hate to allison she's awesome but she grew up in the lap of luxury surrounded by designer brands so she knows NOTHING about thrifting and rationing money in general

oh and sav and allison have kind of a frenemies thing going on bcs they're both fighting for the top spot of their fashion design course

they spend the whole day shopping and aaron ends up with a highly upgraded wardrobe that contains a lot of cute pastel stuff and sav's promise to do his makeup

aaron insists on paying for dinner at the really nice pizza place a short drive from campus even tho they all protest

and andrew knows he's found new friends, but has no idea that it's the vixens and he's dating one of them. nicky does tho, but he's sworn to secrecy

nicky thinks his new clothes are adorable and is stunned when aaron tells him the total cost

"oh my GOD that girl sounds like a genius."

"yeah, her name's sav. you guys,, would get along, i think."

okay now for the winter break part!!

i think that you can get permission to stay at dorms if you're an international student or something??

anyways since sav's super upset bcs her father straight-up told her not to come home bcs he has a new girlfriend ( god i hate sav's father )

katelyn would stay with her, but her dad can finally have her home in new york for christmas and she really doesn't want to miss it

cleo, the only one with a properly functional family, is going back to her big family house and loving parents and grandma and aunt and siblings and cousins. love that for her.

so aaron and sav are stuck at psu for 2 weeks and aaron's surprisingly cool with this. and sav's excited bcs for the first time since her mom died, she can spend her christmas with someone she actually wants around instead of her shitty-ass father and his constant stream of bitchy girlfriends

they spend a lot of time together, stealing food from the athlete's dining hall to make their own weird combos, which usually ends with aaron making something Cool and Interesting and sav gagging and spitting out whatever strange concoction she had previously insisted would taste good

i literally can't bring myself to give a shit about the twinyards' deal bcs andrew literally became best friends with renee?? and hooks up with guys at eden’s??? idk what's going on there but it's like andrew is trying to control aaron's life while he can do whatever he wants??? and honestly wtf????

also let me just make it clear that i ADORE andrew so so much he's one of my favourite comfort characters ever but i'm not gonna make excuses for his shitty behaviour. i fully believe he heals and puts away his pride to apologise to aaron, nicky, and kevin for his treatment of them

that's definitely not to say that aaron's internalised homophobia isn't eww, but with so many important people in his life gay, he makes a huge effort to get over it

so andrew just thinks that aaron is spending a lot of time in the library or out with nicky or something

and when aaron tells sav about this deal, she's kinda horrified, but it's pretty clear to her that aaron so desperately wants to fix his relationship with his brother, and she's not in any place to discourage him, is she?

the only thing she can do is hope that he won't come out all the worse for it

and stare at the boy curled up on the other end of the pale pink sofa cleo's parents had gotten, wonder just how much shit he'd been put through, and decide she was going to be his best friend

aaron's face has gone entirely impassive. sav nudges his fluffy-socked foot with her own, then reaches out to smooth the crease between his eyebrows. "careful, you'll wrinkle your pretty little face."

aaron is very caught off guard by this, and very promptly flushes bright red, which contrasts with the pale teal hoodie he stole from katelyn

"okay, enough talk about depressing crap. wanna go make christmas cookies now?"

"yeah."

so they make christmas cookies. well, it was supposed to be christmas cookies, but it turns into double chocolate fudge cookies somewhere along the line. neither of them knows how

them baking together is the definition of chaos. they're still blasting songs, and sav is singing along terribly

"yOu'Re A mEaN oNe, Mr. GrInCh," while poking aaron's cheek as he tries to mix something. he throws a handful of flour at her. "yOu ReAlLy ArE A hEel."

anyways obviously sav retaliates and that ends in a flour fight. it only stops when aaron deadass cracks an egg on sav's head and she smears chocolate into his hair

she also tries to make him sing along to baby, it's cold outside

"i'Ve GoT tO Go `wAAyyy~" she holds a spatula up to his face

"go away."

they video call katelyn, who takes one look at the mess in the cramped dorm kitchen and sighs so loudly and dramatically that her dad pops in and asks if everything's okay

aaron freezes up at the sight of him and sav quickly turns off the camera, bcs they both want to make good impressions on him, and being covered in various cookie ingredients just won't cut it, ya know?

the cookies turn out delicious and sav sends all their group chat various photos of the process, most of which consist of selfies with her making goofy faces while aaron is simultaneously baking and flipping off the camera

plus a several videos of sav enthusiastically dancing and mouthing the lyrics of, as follows, all i want for christmas is you, let it snow, and santa claus is coming to town and aggressively pointing a spatula at aaron

"c'mon aari, just sing! please??? please???? please you can do it i believe in you!!"

finally he just. gives up. "okay, you know what? fine, i'll sing to ONE and then you will STOP bothering me you insolent dumbass."

sav beams. santa baby starts playing. aaron is very clearly going through five stages of grief in 0.5 seconds

"go on," sav says sweetly as she slides in next to a pouting aaron, "i'll sing with you."

sav slings an arm around his shoulder and sways with him, so it's just her doing that and him grumpily mumbling the lyrics

and when the cookies are cooling down, they start cleaning the kitchen up. aaron rubs some spilled egg yolk into sav's hair but it goes pretty okay otherwise, since they're just listening to more christmas songs and chatting about light stuff, like aaron's biochem course, sav's fashion course, and their dumb classmates

aaron mostly listens tho, and learns that sav kind of hates allison reynolds for giving up her inheritance when she would do ANYTHING for even the tiniest fraction of that money

but she still thinks allison's gorgeous bcs c'mon

and that sav's dream is to one day open her own boutique!!

aaron spends most of the actual christmas day with the monsters at eden's bcs nicky and andrew wanted to

he spent a lot of the time texting on their group chat

doessavvyisgay: so u just go to a nightclub every week??

unaliveme: i mean yeah, i literally worked here for a while. we needed money and nicky was already working 2 jobs night and day

actualblessing: babe ur backstory is so tragic

unaliveme: i'm a fox for a reason ig

cleo.magda: Yes but-

doessavvyisgay renamed this conversation "aaron miniyard support group"

unaliveme: oh ffs

unaliveme: sav subject change go

doessavvyisgay: i'm at the clothes store what should i get?

actualblessing: something pretty :)

doessavvyisgay: sorry, i can't buy the cashier

cleo.magda: Wow.

doessavvyisgay: I DID GET HER NUMBER THO

unaliveme: lmaooo what's her name?

doessavvyisgay: uh

unaliveme: savannah istg u don't even know her name??

actualblessing: s a v

actualblessing: damn u really do be turning on the Charm tho

actualblessing: respect i didn't even talk to aaron till i asked him for notes bcs he has rly pretty notes and also a rly pretty face

actualblessing: and even then i was like :0

unaliveme: IT WAS CUTE I PROMISE

doessavvyisgay: u 2 = the only valid heterosexual couple

actualblessing: rt

unaliveme: oh shit i'm getting super drunk

cleo.magda: Aaron, you drink? That's not legal, get out of there right now. Kids these days-

unaliveme: cleo u have literally seen me get drunk af,, the first time we met,,, and anyways this is how my family bonds ✌🏻

doessavvyisgay: that's. so damn weird kiddo but go off ig

actualblessing: no go find better things to bond about other than alcohol and weird sweaty dancing

cleo.magda: Yeah, go watch some Christmas movies!

unaliveme: nicky makes us watch die hard every year

doessavvyisgay: see u in hell, kiddo ;)

cleo.magda: I meant things like The Polar Express and Home Alone.

actualblessing: merry christmas ya filthy animals!!

doessavvyisgay: merry xmas y'all i'm gonna go to that christmas party bcs i'm super bored

unaliveme: merry christmas mothers and fuckers

cleo.magda: Merry Christmas, you guys!