#and i love how mc knows she can count on him for help <3 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

giveafike · 4 months ago

Note

I love Game, Set, Match! If you ever continue it, since the last time y/n was struggling with her game and Ben helped her out, maybe this time we can have Ben struggling and y/n helping him out

Combining this with another prompt for part 3 of game, set match - another anon said: I dont need u to make game, set, match a whole fan fic, but i would love to see a part 3 with them as mixed doubles partners in like the us open or something!! part 2 was amazing, so exited to see your next work regardless of the plot<3

(here if you haven't read part 2 + here for part 1)

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TLDR: Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton couple meeting up after some time for an Opens Tournament after spending time away. They're set to play mixed doubles, Ben's got issues, we're cosplaying bob the builder the way we can fix this!

Word count + info: 6.3k! A bit shorter than the other two, but I promise it's more intimate! Dialogue (lots of flirting and teasing). Mentions of Matteo Berrettini & Ajla Tomljanović.

Character Inspo: Wbk by now: cheeky n playful MC - yk just... fun! I didn't write any specifications, but in my head I was envisioning Tyla so! But put whoever you want to cast ;). She's fallen hard in love here tho

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, this is sooo cute. There is a lot of suggestive content here 😭 but nothing NSFW, teasing, playful relationship, lwky submissive Ben, hope I make u guys giggle!

Azzie Notes ✚: HI!! Last post for a bit (I'm still writing other things! Just taking a bit longer than expected - do send more reqs tho, I'm running low!) I LOVEEE writing Game, Set, Match - I'm so proud of this baby!

Do send in blurb reqs, I can push em out quicker than these longer stories. In saying that, I do have a couple in the works rn who knows? Maybe we'll have a new baby project on our hands.

Also, for anon asks + messages that aren't directly fanfics, follow #azzie asks for stuff bc I feel bad hoarding up space on the main tags for just anon convos. Should I do more of that? Do we want me to talk? Send qs and stuff if you do, otherwise I'll carry on w the usual fanfics and AUs.

I'd love to write a fanfic (SFW or NSFW) w a name and character description, like I could do SOOO much more, someone pls req, so I can storyboard and draft up stuff!!!

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Game, Set, Match (Part 3) - B.T.S

It had been weeks since you’d seen Ben.

With the WTA and ATP tours in full swing, your schedules pulled you in opposite directions, placing you both in different cities and on different courts. Your phones had been lifelines, but they only gave you fleeting sporadic late-night texts, quick phone calls, and longing video chats to keep you in contact.

But now, the separation was over, and the moment you stepped off the plane, a familiar rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, your heart raced, already knowing Ben was somewhere waiting for you.

You pushed through the terminal tunnel-visioned and suddenly, you saw him. Even in a crowded airport, Ben stood out. Tall, with his unmistakable athletic build, the brim of his hat tilted low, his lips were bitten as he scanned the crowd, his eyes locked on you the second he saw you. The world around you blurred, and Ben made his way toward you with long, determined strides.

Before you could even fully register the relief washing over you, his arms were around you, pulling you into his chest. His familiar scent filled your senses, instantly grounding you. Your arms were thrown over his neck, your face tucked into his neck as you held him tight, wondering how you had managed to last this long without his comforting touch.

“I missed you so damn much, Y/N,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. One hand ran through your hair, the other smoothing your back.

You sighed into him, your hands rubbing his back, curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer. “I missed you so much more”.

Ben didn’t waste any time. He tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both soft and intense like he was making up for every missed kiss over the last few weeks. His hand slid up your sides, slipping under your hoodie to rest against your bare skin. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, and you shivered slightly from how badly you had missed the feel of him.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been without you,” he breathed against your lips, his thumb stroking along the small of your back as he kissed the corner of your mouth and then down the line of your jaw.

You smiled, but your voice came out softer than you intended, already melting against him. “I think I have an idea. I was struggling too.” Your eyes fluttered open and shut with each kiss he planted, your gaze roaming over his face, boring into the kindness in his sweet eyes. You reached up to peck his cheek in slow, lasting kisses.

Ben pulled back chuckling, just enough to look at you, his thumb coming up to brush over your cheek as he drank you in, like he needed to commit every detail of your face to memory. “I’m not letting you out of my sight now. I need you close, with me, all the time,” he whispered, his eyes big and soft with affection. “Not for a second.”

His intensity sent a wave of warmth through your chest, but you still managed a smirk, raising an eyebrow. He looked like a little kid, never wanting to let you go. “Not even for a second, huh? Okay, big guy.”

Ben grinned, his hand slipping back under your hoodie, fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he pulled you in for another kiss, one that promised more than just a reunion.

“We still need to get to the hotel,” you laughed breathlessly, playfully hitting his chest.

“Hotel’s first,” he said with a mischievous grin, dipping his head to brush his lips over your ear. “But after that…” He nipped lightly at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. His hands crept higher under your hoodie, grazing the edge of your sports bra. “I’ve got some plans for us once you settle in.”

You laughed, squealing, swatting at him playfully. “Benjamin Shelton! Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I don’t think I can,” he murmured with a smirk, his lips barely brushing yours as he leaned in. “Not when you’re finally here.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed him away, heat rising in your cheeks. As you wheeled your bag toward the exit, Ben caught up, a boyish, gummy smile tugging at his lips as he stole the handle from your hands. His arm slipped around your waist, resting a little lower on your hip, a teasing glint in his eyes that promised he wasn’t quite done yet.

In the taxi, Ben’s clingy neediness only seemed to intensify, and you felt it in the way his hands couldn’t stay still. He pulled you closer, nearly into his lap, making it nearly impossible to sit normally in the seat.

His hands traced delicate patterns on your back, on your sides. His lips hovered near your ear, occasionally brushing against your cheek or neck, you could feel the smirk tugging at his lips, sending tiny shivers down your spine. Every kiss, every touch, felt like a quiet declaration, he missed you, he needed you.

“You seriously have no idea how much I’ve missed you, like, really bad. Like, losing my mind, bad,” Ben whispered, his voice thick with a mix of affection and urgency. His thumb brushed along your ribcage, slow and deliberate, like he was memorising the feel of you all over again.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning back against him, feeling the warmth of his chest against your back. “Ben, darling, I’m getting an idea, with how handsy you’re being,” you teased, giggling as you glanced up at him. “You’re being so clingy, baby.”

Ben chuckled, not the least bit embarrassed. “Can you blame me?” he murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “I haven’t had you in my arms for weeks. I’ve been dying just to touch you for weeks. My beautiful, gorgeous girl, the woman that I love so much…now all mine in my hands again…”

His voice trailed off while he planted kisses as your breath hitched slightly at his praise, offering him a soft hum as his hands continued their slow exploration, fingertips skimming beneath the hem of your hoodie, teasing the edge of your waistband, roaming back up to toy with your sports bra. “Weeks, huh? You're acting like it’s been years.”

“Might as well have been,” he muttered against your neck, brushing your hair to one side gently, nipping playfully at your skin. “I don’t think I’ve gone this long without touching you since we started dating. I’ve been so desperate to just touch you.”

You giggled softly, your head tilting to the side to give him better access, your fingers resting against his arm. “Maybe I book more WTA tours away if this is the welcome I get.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and he pulled you even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Don’t even joke about that.” His lips brushed against your collarbone, his breath hot and deliberate. “You have no idea what you do to me when you’re gone, baby. I’m not letting you go far from me for a long time.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, ownership laced in his words. You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, your fingers running along the edge of his jaw. You could feel Ben slowly start to get more desperate, his playful feathering kisses turning into something more permanent, sucking and biting softly as if to leave small, subtle marks on your skin.

“Oof, someone's possessive. Guess I’m stuck having to deal with you being all over me then,” you teased, though your voice came out softer, more breathless.

Ben grinned, his eyes deep with affection as he kissed you again, plunging this time, one hand slipping further up your back, underneath your hoodie. “You’re not exactly pushing me away, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though you leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” you murmured, your fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re too tempting.”

The taxi jolted slightly as it hit a bump, and you let out a quiet giggle breaking out of your bubble and swatting at his chest lightly, clearing your throat as you sat up. “Ben, the driver’s right there.”

Ben glanced over at the driver, who was politely staring ahead, before shrugging. “Doesn’t bother me.”

You let out a laugh, pushing lightly at his chest again. “Behave,” you said, though there was no real force behind the command. You were enjoying the attention far too much.

Ben hummed softly, his lips still brushing against your skin, hands roaming even more dangerously as he cupped your breasts under your hoodie. “Can’t help it. You’re here, and I’ve been deprived for too long.”

The playful banter continued all the way to the hotel, his hands wandering and gripping and his lips stealing kisses at every opportunity. By the time you arrived, the air between you was thick with the tension of weeks spent apart, and you could barely wait to get to your room. Ben grabbed your suitcase with one hand, the other arm firmly around your waist, guiding you through the hotel lobby with an almost single-minded focus.

As soon as you were in the elevator, the doors barely closed before Ben had you pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours, hands gripping your waist as if he couldn’t bear even an inch of distance between you. Your hands pressed against the wall to soften the sudden push, before snaking up to the nape of his neck.

“Ben,” you breathed between kisses, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “We’re almost there, hold on, babe..!”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding lower. “But I can’t wait, baby.”

By the time you reached the room, you were both breathless, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stumbled inside. Ben closed the door behind you, immediately pulling you into his arms again, his hands slipping beneath your hoodie, lifting it slightly as his lips found yours in a kiss that was slow and needy.

You smiled against his lips, finally breaking the kiss to pull back just enough to catch your breath. “You’re insatiable..!” you teased, gasping, though your own hands were wandering, tracing the familiar lines of his strong chest and shoulders.

Ben grinned, his hands slipping down to your hips, pulling you closer. “Only when it comes to my girl.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re sweet.”

His lips brushed against yours again, but this time the kiss was gentler, more tender. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as he pulled you even closer. “I love you so much,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart swelled at the words, and you kissed him softly, letting the moment linger. “I love you too, Ben.”

For a few moments, you just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world falling away. It was about the quiet comfort of being together again, of knowing that even after weeks apart, nothing between you had changed.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his voice soft but playful. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your fingers brushing through his hair as you smiled. “I was actually going to ask you that. You’ve been here longer than me, did you manage to set up a practice match?”

He smirked, his hands slipping down to your waist again. “I did. We’re playing against Matteo and Ajla.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and you raised an eyebrow. “As in Berrettini? Matteo Berrenttini? That’s quite the practice match.”

Ben’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah? You sound a little too excited about that.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile as you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Well, have you seen him?”

Ben’s eyes squinted, his hands slipping lower as he pulled you flush against him. “Oh, so that’s how it is?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your hands on his chest, teasing him. “I’m just saying... he’s a little distracting.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe I should give you something to distract you from him.”

You grinned, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I think my boyfriend is distraction enough,” you murmured, your lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss. “But if you want to make sure I’m focused...”

Ben smirked playfully, his lips capturing yours again, and you let out a soft laugh as he lifted you off the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he lifted your legs around his waist. “I think I can manage that.”

As you pulled back, breathless and grinning, you whispered softly, “You know I’m teasing. I love you, Ben. Everything feels right with you.”

Ben’s expression softened, his hands gently stroking your sides. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice full of affection. “More than you know. Feels like home with you in my arms.”

You planted a few soft kisses on his face before leaning into his ear, murmuring, "I still think you owe me a distraction though, Ben."

He chuckled, kissing your cheek. "That'll you get, darlin’ " he mumbled against you, bringing you to the bedroom. That night passed by in a blur of moments of pure, genuine love and care, making up for lost time and emotion.

The next morning, the air was cool and crisp, and the sun bright as you arrived at the court. It was a perfect day for tennis the autumn breeze a welcome break from the summer heat you had both endured on the tour. You could hear the hum of early risers in the distance, but out here, it felt like the world had shrunk to just you, Ben, Matteo, and Ajla.

The warm-up with Matteo Berrettini and Ajla Tomljanović had started off with an easy-going energy, but as the sets progressed, the friendly competition turned more intense. You and Ben moved together fluidly on the court, your bodies instinctively syncing as you read each other's movements, making quick glances, wordless nods, and smooth exchanges.

There were moments of effortless coordination with Ben's power serves and your swift returns combined to win quick points. It was no surprise to anyone watching how well you complemented each other, not just as a couple but as doubles players too. But despite your solid partnership, you noticed a subtle flaw in Ben’s play, something that had escaped both his attention and the growing tension in the practice game.

Between points, you caught the way Ben’s jaw clenched when a shot didn’t go as planned, or when a well-placed return from Matteo caught him off-guard, making him shake his head. It wasn’t that he lacked the skill, Ben was as powerful and talented as they came, but there was a rush in his movement, a drive to end points too quick and fast, a desire to out-muscle rather than out-think his opponent. He was pushing too hard, chasing shots aggressively when he didn’t need to, leaving himself out of position for the next exchange.

“Ben,” you called softly during a break between serves, approaching him with a playful smile, but your eyes scanned him thoughtfully.

He tilted his head, his sweaty curls brushing his forehead, and he flashed that bright grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “Yes, babe?”

You glanced over at Matteo and Ajla who were catching their breath on the other side of the court, then back at Ben. “You’re doing great,” you said, giving him a playful nudge, “but you’re leaving yourself open. You’re trying to end the point too fast, darling.”

His smile faltered slightly, the competitive edge still buzzing in his eyes, but there was a flicker of realisation too. “What do you mean?”

You took a step closer, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers gently trace down his forearm as if to soothe his tension and take the edge off of your suggestions. “You don’t have to go for the big finish every time,” you said softly, your voice tinged with affection. “Trust me to set you up.”

Ben blinked at you, clearly processing what you were saying. His eyes roamed over your face, then down to the feeling of your hand on his bicep, his expression softening as he began to understand. “You think I’m overdoing it?”

You smiled, leaning up to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, studying his eyes before you answered. “Hmm, a little teensy bit, yeah. Just play it a bit smarter. You know I’ve always got your back.” Your hand slipped down to pat his chest lightly, fingers lingering on his heart.

Ben let out a slow breath, his pride unshaken but his focus shifting. “Got it,” he muttered, a crooked smile spreading across his face. “Leave the setup to you, huh? My girl’s handling business?”

“Exactly,” you teased, giving him a quick wink. “I know what I’m setting up for my man.”

That last part clearly struck something in Ben, the pride swelling in his chest as you called him your man. His grin widened, a gleam in his eyes now, not from the competition but from the quiet confidence you had in him.

“Damn right, I am,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower so only you could hear. “Guess I’ll have to show you what your man can really do once I’m in.”

You gave him a soft swat on the arm, giggling. “Save it for the court, Benny. Or maybe later, when we’re off it.”

Ben chuckled but pulled you into a quick, possessive kiss, his lips lingering longer than they probably should have, given that you were still mid-match.

“Later then,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands lingering at your hips before he pulled away with a playful gleam in his eye.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Matteo called from across the court, his thick Italian accent laced with amusement. “You two ready, or should we leave you alone?”

Ajla laughed, shaking her head. “Pretty sure we all know how this match ends if they keep that up.”

You shot a playful glare at them, then turned to Ben with a smirk. “Think they’re jealous?”

Ben gave a quick shrug, flashing that cocky grin that drove you wild. “Who wouldn’t be? I mean, look at my beautiful girl.” He winked at you before jogging back into position, and your heart warmed at the ease and pride in his voice when he said it, his girl.

As the next point started, the flow between you and Ben seemed smoother. You both moved like two parts of a well-oiled machine, he focused on power and strategy, and you on finesse and setting him up for those big finishing shots. You watched him settle, taking more time with his positioning, trusting you to create the opportunities for him. And when that perfect moment came, his power unleashed with precision, and you saw the change in his eyes, a new level of control starting to blossom.

Ajla returned a lob shot, and Ben waited, patient, as you volleyed it back, setting him up. The moment the ball left her racket, Ben struck, sending it down the line in a clean, blistering shot that left both Matteo and Ajla flat-footed.

“Vamos!” Ben shouted, his voice full of triumph, his fist clenched, as the ball bounced out of reach. He turned to you with wide, triumphant eyes, rushing over to scoop you up in his arms before you could even blink.

“That’s my man,” you laughed as he spun you around, both of you laughing and riding the high of the win.

Ben pressed a quick kiss to your lips, still holding you in his arms. “Told you we’d make a good team.”

You could hear Matteo clapping slowly in mock defeat behind you, and Ajla was laughing, shaking her head in amusement. “Alright, alright, we’ll give it to you guys this time.”

You beamed at Ben, his arms still tightly around you, your face inches from his. “Always knew you had it in you.”

Ben grinned, his forehead pressing against yours as his voice dropped low. “Only ‘cause I’ve got you by my side.”

You and Ben had barely finished celebrating your win when Matteo and Ajla sauntered over, shaking their heads in defeat but still smiling.

“That was impressive,” Matteo admitted, clapping Ben on the back.

“Though, if you two keep up with the lovefest on the court, you might distract yourselves one of these days.”

Ben smirked, his hand casually resting on your waist as he pulled you closer. “Nah, we’re just that good. Plus, she keeps me in check.” He winked down at you, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his cheeky confidence.

Ajla gave you a knowing smile. “You guys are impossible. But alright, a deal’s a deal. Lunch on us."

You grinned, side-hugging her over the net. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As the four of you walked off the court, lighthearted banter filling the air, your mind was still on the way Ben had adjusted his play. He’d listened to you, adapted, and it had paid off. There was no denying the satisfaction that came with seeing him execute your advice perfectly. But you also knew that some things would need a little more fine-tuning and practice, and for that, a private session was definitely in order.

Later on, after lunch with Matteo and Ajla, you found yourself back in the hotel room as the sun set, both of you a little tired but still buzzing with energy from the match and the good company. Ben was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone, while you sat on the edge, absently bouncing a tennis ball against the wall in a rhythmic thud.

“Hey,” you said after a moment, glancing over at him. “How about we hit the courts again? Just the two of us. I think we could use some more time out there.”

Ben lifted his head, one eyebrow raised, a teasing twinkle already forming on his lips. “Oh? Didn’t get enough today?”

You smiled, looking back at him. “You’re getting better, Ben, but there are a few things we should work on. You were doing great out there with Matteo and Ajla, but I think we could sharpen up your positioning a little more.”

Ben set his phone down, sitting up now, fully intrigued. “Oh? You’re offering to coach me?”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Yeah. I know you want to be the best, and I can help you with that.”

His eyes brightened with interest, and he was up in an instant, hauling himself up off the bed with a grin. “Alright, coach. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The tennis court was empty when the two of you arrived, the evening air cool and crisp under the soft glow and hum of the stadium lights. Ben took his spot across from you, bouncing lightly on his feet, his signature cocky grin in place as he spun his racket in his hand.

You and Ben had the ball bouncing back and forth in a comfortable rhythm. You enjoyed these quiet moments together, where it was less about winning and more about the two of you syncing up, even if it meant some fine-tuning in his technique.

“Alright, coach,” Ben said with a grin, settling into a more relaxed stance. His playful tone was the same as ever, but there was something softer in his gaze tonight, he was taking you seriously, eager to work, eager to show off for you. “How are we doing this? What’s the game plan to make me even better?”

You leaned back on your heels, arms crossed as you eyed him. “Footwork first. You keep rushing when you don’t need to. Relax into it, be patient, trust yourself and you’ll find your rhythm.”

Ben nodded, his eyes locked on yours as he mimicked your movements. His focus was intense, but this time it was different from how he worked with his dad. Ben had always been a little impatient with Bryan, more concerned with power and quick sets.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was all yours, giving you his full attention, which stirred something more than pride inside of you. As you demonstrated, he followed suit, his footwork and his motion becoming more controlled with each drill. Every time your hand grazed his arm or adjusted his posture, Ben listened obediently, applying your feedback without his usual back-and-forth banter. That focus on your words, the sincere look in his eyes as he perked up to listen, sent sparks through you.

“Better,” you said after a solid rally, a proud smile creeping onto your face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Ben wiped his brow, a hint of pride in his expression. “Guess you’re a pretty good coach, huh?”

You grinned, shaking your head as you walked past him. “I’ve always been good at keeping you in line.”

The game continued, the ball bouncing between you both, the steady rhythm soothing and familiar. You pushed Ben to focus on positioning, drilling him on staying grounded before committing to a shot.

And then, after another smooth exchange where he hit every cue perfectly, the words slipped out without warning.

“There you go! Good boy.”

It hung in the air for a second, and you froze with a shocked expression on your face, realising what you’d just said. Your cheeks burned up instantly as you glanced at Ben. He had paused too, his face lighting up mischievously with a look that told you he was absolutely not going to let this go.

“Good boy?” he repeated, his voice low and teasing. “Is that how we’re doin’ things now?”

You rolled your eyes, pointing your racket at him trying to remain serious, already feeling your face grow warmer. “Benny, don’t start.”

But Ben wasn’t backing down. He sauntered toward you, his grin spreading wider as he closed the distance between you. “Oh, I’m definitely starting. Honestly? I think I like it when you call me that.”

Your heart quickened as he moved closer, his presence as effortless and warm as it was overwhelming. Ben had always been cheeky, but this? This was something else, and the worst part was you liked it. You liked how easily he fell into his role, how willingly he listened, and how obedient he was when it was you guiding him.

“Ben,” you warned, trying to play it cool even though the heat rising in you was impossible to ignore. “We’re still practising.”

“Oh, I know,” he smiled, his voice dropping an octave, making your pulse race. “But you have to admit, I’ve been followin’ your instructions pretty well. Don’t you think?”

Your breath hitched slightly as he moved even closer, his body nearly pressing against yours, the net being your safe haven keeping your space, his eyes glinting with that familiar, playful intensity. “Maybe I should keep bein’ a good boy, hmm?”

It was that line, delivered with a perfectly raised brow, that sent a surge of heat right through you. You hadn’t meant to say it, it just slipped out, a reaction to how well he was following your guidance, but now you couldn’t take it back. And now Ben was fully leaning into the moment, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you.

You tried to recover, taking a small step back to regain some distance.

“You’re… getting there,” you cleared your throat, attempting to steer things back to tennis, though the words came out shakier than you intended.

Ben wasn’t having it, though. “Getting there? Come on, coach, I thought I was doing great.” He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your waist, pulling you back just a little closer. You couldn’t help but suck in a breath, your body betraying the calm front you were trying to keep.

“Am I being good now?” he asked, his voice low, filled with amusement but also something heavier, something deeper. His teasing had shifted slightly, still playful but now layered with affection, and it made your head spin.

You swallowed hard, struggling to keep your composure. “Ben, you-”

“I’m listening,” he cut in smoothly, his lips dangerously close to your ear now, his voice lilting in his drawled-out voice, oozing off his tongue like molasses. “Just like you wanted. Don’t I deserve a lil more praise, hm?”

Your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t help the rush of heat, the buzzing feeling that flooded through you. He was teasing, sure, but he was also right. He had been listening, and the way he responded to your guidance, so open, so eager to improve for you, was doing things to your heart you hadn’t anticipated.

“Okay,” you said quietly, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. “You’re doing real good, Ben.”

Ben smirked, pulling back just enough to catch your eye, and the way he looked at you, both playful and sincere, made you feel completely undone. He raised an eyebrow as he caught your eyes with his, holding your gaze, expecting a bit more.

“You're a good boy,” you added softly, almost as if you were under a spell.

His grin widened, and in that moment, it was clear that you had lost this round. Ben had flipped the dynamic entirely, and though you were supposed to be the one in charge, he was now calling the shots, and it was thrilling.

And in the comfortable quiet of the evening court, with the world fading around you, Ben leaned in and kissed you softly. It wasn’t rushed or heated, just a simple connection, an acknowledgement of the easy rhythm you’d both fallen into.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes sparkled with that same teasing glint.

"Thought you were in charge here, darlin'," he mumbled softly, his twang teasing as he stepped closer, his dark brown eyes gleaming in the dim light of the court. There was something about the way he said it, that lazy confidence mixed with an undercurrent of playfulness, that sent heat straight through you.

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to give him a sharp retort. But the way he was looking at you, all calm and patient like he had all the time in the world to enjoy how flustered you were, made your pulse quicken, made you squirm under him. The man knew exactly what he was doing.

And then, without another word, Ben leaned in and placed his hand to rest gently at the back of your neck, his fingers slipping through your hair, and you couldn’t help but melt into his touch as you both stared into each other's eyes.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his lips just barely curving up into a cheeky smile. “Still wanna keep goin', or you ready to call it?”

Your breath hitched, but you managed to keep your cool, meeting his gaze with a sly smile. “You’re getting cocky, Benny."

His grin widened, and his voice dropped, nice and smooth. "Can't help it when you’re lookin’ at me like that."

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. “Fine, we’ll call it. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on you next time.”

"Guess I'll have to look forward to that, then," he said, his voice lingering just enough to make you smile.

As you both gathered your things and left the court, the night air cool against your heated skin, there was a sense of ease between you. He reached over, lacing his fingers with yours as you walked, and even though the teasing had subsided, the intimacy of the moment lingered.

A few days later, the stakes were higher, the atmosphere much more intense. You and Ben had practised with Ajla and Matteo in the lead-up to this match, but the reality of the Open, the weight of it, the pressure, was different.

As you stood side by side with Ben, gazing out at the packed stadium, the noise of the crowd buzzing in your ears, you could feel the energy crackling around you. This wasn’t just any match, this was what you’d been working toward.

The first set was fast-paced and intense, Matteo’s brutal serves and Ajla’s precision giving you little room to breathe. You and Ben barely kept up though while moving in sync, feeding off each other’s energy as you fought to stay in control.

When the set finally ended, narrowly in your favour, you both collapsed onto the bench, your breaths coming hard and fast. Ben leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring out at the court with that familiar, intense focus with a gel pack in his mouth you’d seen so many times before.

His brown eyes were dark, locked onto the lines of the court like he was reading every inch of it. He wasn’t the playful, adoring Ben right now. This was the side of him you admired most, the one who studied the game like it was an art form, completely absorbed in every detail, every strategy.

The sharp angles of his face were even more pronounced as he heaved, sweat glistening along his jawline as his gaze stayed locked forward. It was that quiet intensity, the way he seemed to block out everything but the game, that made him so magnetic out here. He was in his element, and it was captivating.

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, still catching your breath as you watched him. He didn’t speak at first, keeping that unwavering focus on the court, his breathing steadying. You knew better than to interrupt when he got like this when that competitive side of him came out, Ben was locked in.

But after a moment, you leaned over, your shoulder brushing his, and gave him a soft nudge. “Hey.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and just like that, the tension melted a little. He smiled, soft and small, and you could see a flicker of the playful Ben you knew so well underneath all that intensity.

“You’re playing smart, Ben. Matteo’s a powerhouse, but you’ve been nailing those returns. Keep pushing him wide, make him work for it.”

He exhaled, nodding as your words sank in. "Yeah, you’re right." His voice low and a bit raspy from the heat of the match.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his hand brush against yours on the bench. “We’ve got this, okay? Just stay in the rhythm. I’m right here with you.”

He turned to look at you fully, and there it was, that gaze, the one that made your heart race every time. Dark brown eyes locked on yours, filled with trust and something deeper. “I know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. "Ain’t no one else I’d rather be out here with.”

Before you could respond, the whistle blew, signalling the start of the second set. Ben stood first, turning to offer you his hand, and you took it without hesitation. There was a strength in his grip that steadied you, and as you walked back onto the court together, you felt that connection between you grow stronger.

The second set was even tougher and rallies longer, each point feeling like a battle. Matteo’s serves were punishing, and Ajla was relentless, but you and Ben had found your groove. He followed your lead, trusting your instincts, and every return, every volley, felt sharper than before.

And when Ben sent a sharp forehand just past Matteo’s reach to seal the match, the roar of the crowd was deafening.

You spun around, immediately finding Ben, and before you could say a word, he was there, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug, spinning you once before setting you down gently. His eyes, still sparkling with that competitive edge, softened as he looked at you, pride radiating from every inch of him.

“You did it!” you squealed, breathless from both the match and the rush of it all.

“We did it, babe” he replied, his accent thicker now, the exhaustion and adrenaline mixing in his voice. His sweet eyes held yours for a beat longer before he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

The crowd’s cheers only seemed to fade as you kissed him back, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It wasn’t about the victory, not really. It was about everything that had led up to this. The trust, the hard work, the way you two moved together.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was teasing. “Guess that means you’re the gonna be coaching me after all this, huh?”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection as you pushed at his chest lightly. “Don’t hold onto that just yet, Benny.”

He grinned, that familiar playful glint back in his eyes as he laced his fingers with yours. “Too late for that.”

As you both walked off the court, hand in hand, the crowd still roaring around you, you knew that whatever came next, whether it was another match or another late-night training session, you’d face it together. And that was the real win.

#ben shelton #benshelton #ben shelton x reader #atp tennis

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spitdrunken · 2 months ago

Note

really loved your Adami x reader work. Ever since I saw her I was like “wow. I want her” and honestly bought the game for her lmao. (Not pressuring you) hope you write more of her in the future :] really saved me here, bc counting yours I’ve only managed to find 3 works with mc x reader

Adami x Reader is genuinely really rare </3! I think she's cute, though and REALLY MESSED UP, haha. Have a little thought I had earlier :3! It's not exactly cute or nice though, I'm sorry if you were looking for that sob

notes: Ms. Crowbar AU (Monster!Adami, has Mr. Scarletella as her servant.), graphic depictions of violence (reader is not hurt), Adami is . a bit mean in this one, heavily implied poly relationship

You'll never know whether she was always like this. Perhaps she was a more balanced, a better person, before she'd lost all of her sanity in these endless, looping hallways. All that you know is that, right now, Ms. Crowbar always wants to be the one in control of any given situation, and is greedy when it comes to her own amusement. Violent or otherwise.

With your hard-to-define relationship, this means that you'll have to carefully read her body language when reaching out to touch her. Preferably, she would initiate almost everything herself. Sometimes, she'll just make you sit down in a chair and plop herself in your lap, crimson eyes never closing as she peppers kisses all over your face and rubs her cheek against yours. When she feels like sleeping and curls up into a bed, she'll always be in the middle between you and Mr. Crawling. (And, of course, Mr. Scarletella is always right there, oftentimes relegated to a third wheel due to the lack of a physical body. You'd feel worse for him if you hadn't caught a glimpse to what she does to the handle of his umbrella.)

You don't mind it so much when she's needy for physical affection. When her violent impulses rear their head though, you always have a decidedly worse time. Like now.

Your hands shake around the weapon Ms. Crowbar pushed into your hands. The human before you shakes and trembles, legs left in odd angles down the knee from her precise strikes. His hands have begun to blotch with the Other World's corruption, and yet… Even knowing his death won't be permanent, your stomach twist and turns. Tears drip down his face as he begs in an unfamiliar language, but the meaning of his words transcends any tongue, human or otherwise.

Ms. Crowbar presses her mouth against your ear. She'd been shorter than you moments ago, but her form is entirely malleable to her own liking. When she speaks, a hot breath of air brushes makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

"Hurthurthurthurthurt," she says, speaking so fast that one sound rolls into the other and you can't tell where one word begin and the other hands. Through her mouth, she sucks in a slow breath. "You kill. Other not dead. Sentience again return. You understand?"

You do. You've never once misunderstood the way things work around here. But, in your transformation, your desire for violence hasn't grown all that much. Of course, that is exactly why she pushes you to your breaking point. She's still interested now. If you were a better person, less of a coward, you would've objected, shoved her off and walked away. But as the ruler of this realm, there are many things Ms. Crowbar can do. You have no desire to be at the other end of her weapon.

Lowering your hands, you manage to bring your blade to the human's throat. His eyes stare straight into yours along the arch of your blade and arm. With how fickle your memory is, you hope you soon forget the look he gives you. And yet, you still can't do it. Ms. Crowbar sighs once again, then giggles indulgently.

"I see. Me help you." In the blink of an eye, her grip has wrapped itself around your hand, clutching tight. With a single, sharp motion of her arm the iron has sunk into the soft flesh of the human's throat. His eyes grow wide as he uselessly gurgles on his own blood, mouth gaping and closing like a fish on dry land. You look away, but Ms. Crowbar places the side of your head in the palm of your hand and makes you watch.

Bile rises in the back of your throat and you take a staggering step away. Surprisingly, her grip slides off of your shoulders easily. You slump against the wall, letting out a pathetic little whimper. The world spins around you. For the first time in a while, through the labyrinth of your forgotten memories, the desire to go home claws its way to the surface, overpowering any other feeling. Like that, you feel suspended in space for a couple of seconds, grip on reality slipping, ears ringing, and you're just sososoSO upset!!! its sososo unfair why you why you?

When you come to, your hands are dripping with blood, the lower half of your face dripping with thick, warm liquid. You don't want to think about what it is. Your entire body is shaking. At some point you must've sat down. When you look up, Ms. Crowbar is right there, not looking the least bit disturbed. She smiles down at you.

"Cute," she simply says. "Me like you."

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #adami adashino x reader #homicipher mc x reader #cha.adami

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arcadia-of-pluto · 4 months ago

Text

Divisa; One

Parings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 3,052

Themes; reality hopping, alternative universe (same universe, just things are a little different), doppelganger, multiple endings, slowburn

Warnings; swearing, maybe an existential crisis or two

Notes; Hey guys! Divisa is finally out!! This won't be following the original story at all. Just bits and pieces here and there. This is going to be different compared to “Twist of Fate”– it's also going to be shorter. I'd say possibly fifteen chapters? There will be five different endings; Four endings will be with each love interest and the fifth will be with all of them. The original MC will not be a white lotus (aka someone who seems sweet, but is actually a bitch) and certain things will be changed. This is based on the universe of LADS, but the whole in-game story doesn't mean anything– unless I mention it specifically! You'll see what I mean.

It’s gonna have a bit of a slow start, but I hope you stick around for it regardless! If there's any smut, it'll be in the endings. So, this is only rated as mature purely for all of the swearing! (ps I'm sorry for naming the reader's father, but I felt it was necessary to do so)

Also! This will have a sporadic upload schedule, so if I finish a chapter, I'll post it soon after. There's no specific day I'll upload this <3 Hope that's okay.

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

Divisa

//Latin and Italian for: Divided//

||adj.||

Split into parts; separated

Not united; in disagreement

○o。. .。o○

“Seriously, how much shit does Grandma have up here?” Another box joins the stack of five and you wipe sweat from your forehead with your sleeve.

It was your day off today and while you'd love to spend it relaxing, instead you offered to help your elderly grandma clean out her attic— because “you're her favourite grandchild”, her words…You were her only grandkid.

You had already been there for well over an hour, cleared out five boxes so far, and grandma still wasn't home yet. She was at the farmer's market before you even arrived, so she should've been back by now, but you know your grandma is a chatterbox. She'd yap her whole life away if she could.

You take your jacket off and tie it around your waist, slinging your mini-backpack on once more– it's a habit to always have it on you. You never know when you might need something. Like your chapstick, hand sanitizer, a pen…It's almost a mystery how the bag isn't heavy as hell with how much junk is in it–

You head back up the stairs and glance around at the almost empty attic. You wondered what exactly grandma was going to do with the place after it was clean– maybe she'd turn it into a room for you? You shake your head at the thought and go back to moving boxes.

With a heavy box in hand, you head back toward the stairs. The box slips just slightly within your clammy hands and you bring your knee up to help keep a hold of it. This, however, causes you to fall. Your shoulder slams into the sharp corner of an even heavier box and something on top of the box makes a loud noise as it hits the hardwood floor.

You suck in a deep breath to disguise the pain in your shoulder and quickly roll over to check on the fallen object, internally hoping it wasn't something really valuable. But once you spot it, you're confused.

It was…a jewelry box?

Your grandma wasn't one to wear jewelry, so this was out of the ordinary. The wooden box also seems pretty…old.

You pick up the weathered box and lift the lid to make sure the hinge still works. That's whenever you notice something wrapped in a cloth.

You set the box to the side and pick up the cloth. It was hefty, so there must be some kind of jewelry wrapped up in it. Maybe a necklace?

You unwrap it and before you can look at the necklace, a signature at the corner of the cloth catches your eye.

It was your grandpa's name.

You have never personally met the man, but your grandma loved to tell stories about him. The stories were a little…odd, but you would blame that on her being old and the possible beginnings of dementia. She would tell tales of another time period entirely, how grandpa was a prince and she was wrongly deemed as a saint, how she had to run away with your mother and grandpa couldn't come back here with them…

While it was a beautiful story, you often wondered if it was just a coping mechanism and something bad had happened to your grandpa, but you didn't dare ask your mother.

It seems as if the men in your family were never present, so maybe…there's a curse that only affects the men? Seeing as your father wasn't present either, but your mom had so many pictures of him. You even kept a picture of the two of them in your wallet.

Those thoughts aside, it seems like grandpa was an actual person, at least…even though this cloth– handkerchief, you realize– appeared to be just as old as the box itself, but that can't be possible.

You shake your head and set the handkerchief back into the jewelry box, turning your attention to the necklace.

It was honestly a rather beautiful gemstone necklace. It almost seemed familiar somehow, like you've seen it in a Marvel movie or something. It was a deep red-wine coloured stone with silver wire coiled around it like a vine. It hung from a thin, silver chain.

It was pretty and you did love collecting shiny things, so maybe you could ask your grandma if you could keep it. You pocket the necklace for now and, as you go to stand back up, you spot a piece of folded up paper on the floor. You grab the paper between two fingers and open it up. The tiny scrap of paper only has four words written on it.

The Reality Stone || Aether

Aether?

That word seems…oddly familiar to you. Why– oh, right!

Your phone buzzes with a notification.

‘Rafayel is waiting for you’

A scoff slips from your lips and you shake your head. You did need to check up on your game today and do your dailies…and you did make a huge dent in the attic, so you're sure your grandma would allow you to rest for the remainder of the day. Then, tomorrow, she could help you with the rest!

With your decision made, you put your phone away and descend down the stairs. But then, your pocket feels oddly warm. Intensely so– It's like it was burning a hole through your jeans and you pause mid-step to grab the necklace from your pocket, but you miss a step with your heel and you feel your body fall forward.

Panic spreads throughout your chest, because you know this won't be a pain-free tumble. You'd be lucky to escape with just a sprained ankle or wrist. Your eyes squeeze shut on impulse and instead of your body slamming into hardwood, you felt a face full of…grass?

“What the fuc—”

As you sit up in a panic, your body freezes.

…how the hell did you end up outside?

You scan your surroundings, but you don't recognize where you are.

You're surrounded by jasmines. Beautiful, fragrant flowers as far as the eye can see. A couple of scattered cherry blossom trees, but you were not in a forest. You were just on the outskirts of a city.

With a sigh, you take the reason for your troubles out of your pocket. The necklace. You give the red gem the dirtiest look you can muster before reluctantly clipping it around your neck. If this is what sent you here, you might as well keep it safe, until you figure out how to get back home. Then, you grab your phone.

Maybe…it just sent you to the next city over and your grandma could come pick you up.

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone, but your thumb freezes before you can tap anything.

“The date…What in the..” You can't even finish your sentence. You were so confused and panic was beginning to sink in. “It's 2048?! This…must be a joke, right?”

You rake your fingers through your hair and rise to your feet. “It's fine. Let's try calling grandma,” you murmur to yourself. You try to keep your breathing calm, but you can already feel yourself beginning to panic as you hold the phone up to your ear.

It rings…and rings…and rings…

“This number is no longer in service—”

“Whatever. Seriously, whatever. This is fine. Great, even. Everything is a-ohhhkay. Perfectly normal.” You pocket your phone and rest your head in your hand for a moment, then you take a deep breath and nod your head.

“Alright, I should head to the city first. No use freaking out. It's not like that'll get me home any faster.” You clench your hand into a fist and desperately hope you'll at least be able to reach the city before nightfall…

…The good news is, the city wasn't far at all. Well, it was far, but not three-hours-away type of far! So, you made it well before dark. According to your phone, it was only 5pm so you still had time to find a place for the night. Hopefully whatever place you decide to stay will take your cash…but who knows maybe 2024 money is outdated in 2048.

“I'm sorry, we don't take this form of payment anymore.”

This was the third hotel you've checked tonight…You take a seat on a bench near a large water fountain and hold your head in your hands. Even if it's twenty-four years in the future, they should still take your cash! This is insane–

As you tilt your head back to wallow in your sadness, you notice a billboard in the distance and you can feel the blood drain from your face.

“No, no, no—”

You whip out your phone, making sure you have all your apps before you click on one specific one. You quickly tap the screen, murmuring, “Come on…come on..” And once the game finally loads in, you navigate to the guidance tab.

“The Chronorift Catastrophe of 2034…fourteen years ago. Fourteen plus 2034,” you nervously mutter as you chew on your thumbnail. “That's 2048…that billboard clearly said Linkon City.” You hold your hand over your mouth as dread fills your stomach.

You weren't in the real world…of course that's why your cash wouldn't work. Were you in a coma? Did the fall hurt your head?

No…if that were the case, you wouldn't have taken your bag with you, you wouldn't feel so panicky and cold right now…or could you? You could be self aware and in a coma. But you didn't want to be, so you decided to brush the most realistic thought aside.

“They recognized this money, so maybe…” In the real world, old money could sell for a lot. Especially when it comes to collectors. So maybe you could find someone who would buy all of your old cash. That would definitely work for now, but what about in the future? You'd need money for however long you're going to be here…ugh, does that mean you need to find a job?

Wait…

Wanderers and evols.

There were creatures here.

The thought sends shivers down your spine and you shrug your bag off to put your jacket back on.

As long as you didn't go into a rift you should be fine, right? You're almost positive wanderers never came out to terrorize people—

Your thoughts are cut off by a loud scream and your head jerks in the direction of it with wide eyes.

There was a big ass blue portal in the middle of the street and fucking creatures were coming out of it!?

What the hell was your luck today??

You sling your bag back on, getting ready to run before a bright light blinds you and you shield your eyes. Squinting them to try and see where the light was coming from.

Once the light faded, your heart stuttered in your chest.

A tall man stood in the center of the road as the blue rift dissipates. His wispy, ash-blonde hair blowing in the wind as he turns his head to the side to talk to his companion next to him. From where you are, you can just barely make out his blue eyes.

Xavier?

Then…who was next to him—

Y…You?

You slowly pull up your hood as you stare at the uncanny sight.

While she clearly didn't share the same hair or body type as you, everything else was…identical. Her eyes, her face…It was like looking in a mirror.

You were the main character, but you were not, at the same time.

“Y/n, are you sure you're not overexerting yourself?” You could barely hear his voice over the wind, but your breath catches in your throat at your name coming from Xavier’s lips.

“I'm fine, I promise.” You– She replies with a small, almost pained, smile.

“This is some bullshit,” you murmur under your breath, tapping your finger against your leg as you think about the unfairness of the situation.

Seriously!? You were brought here and you– gosh, you really need to come up with a name for her before this gets confusing. Gemini? Sure, that works.

You were brought here and Gemini was already here?? It's so unfair to have two yous in the same timeline, especially when one already had a head start!

The male leads would definitely sacrifice you for her. They'd probably even tear out your heart, thinking it would fix hers.

You tug at your hair with a small groan of annoyance.

Fuck. Fuck–

Deep breaths...

“Alright. I guess I'm staying up tonight.” You finally compose yourself and set your sight on a neon sign just across the road. “The Nest seems like a good place to start. I could sell this old cash and hopefully get enough for a room tonight.” You pull out a black face mask from your bag and put it on so only your eyes are uncovered.

You'd have to be careful since you and Gemini were identical. You really didn't want to get kidnapped instead of her. Being the main character of an otome game is tough work and, honestly, she can have it. You didn't want to get involved.

It's not like the male leads would ever spare a second glance at you, so you'd surely be fine…Right?

☆ミ

The bell overheard chimes as you step inside the dimly lit bar. The smell of cheap liquor and smoke hitting your nose through the mask and you hold back the urge to cough.

Act cool…

You take a seat at the bar, drumming your fingers against the marbled counter as an employee makes his way over to you.

Without saying a word, you slide a 2017 quarter toward him and he raises a brow before placing an embossed business card down in front of you.

Okay, so if you remember correctly, whatever you write on here will disappear and then, the bartender will take the card and leave. If you have someone who is interested, he'll be back with a drink for you.

You grab a pen from the table and quickly scribble down on the paper.

‘Anyone interested in old money’

Honestly, you should probably be a bit careful, but you had no other way to gain information besides taking a few risks.

The ink disappears and the bartender takes the card, nodding at you before making his way to the back.

You just hope the glass wasn't black, though you doubt it. If the glass was black, it would mean you'd need to pay a high price for information– Perhaps your life. However, since you were only looking for a potential buyer, the chances of the glass being black were slim to none.

The employee comes back with a dark green shot glass and sets it down.

You look up at him with a raised brow and the employee decides to take pity on you, tapping the counter next to the glass. “Green means someone is interested and they're willing to pay a lot.” Then, he jerks his head in the direction of the stairs– the same stairs you recall Rafayel walking up before the main character got caught in one of the more recent chapters.

“After you drink this, head upstairs and it's the first door on your right.”

You nod your head and turn your body as you pull down your mask. You can't afford to let anyone see your face. You quickly down the shot and pull your mask back up, the liquid burning as it goes down your throat.

As an extra payment, you give the bartender a 2008 penny– borrowing change from your grandma was good in times like this. You had so many old coins, though your cash was closer to 2024. Either way, you still be able to make some money since they'd be over twenty-four years old.

Then, you leave the bar and head up the stairs. Your hand lightly hovering above the railing until you reach the top, then you head into the room on the right.

It appeared to be a VIP room.

An angled couch lined one half of the wall with a short table in the center. A few unopened drinks and a suitcase sat atop the table and in the corners of the room, near another door were two men. Bodyguards, maybe?

You take your seat, putting your mini-bookbag on your lap so you could be ready to show off your cash– glad that your mask covered half of your face because you were starting to feel a little nervous.

After a few minutes of waiting, your nervousness turns to annoyance.

You roll your sleeves up and pull your hood down as if to show the bodyguard that you're safe and they can let their guy in now. Then, you lean back on the couch and cross your arms over your chest.

Seriously, how long would this dick keep you waiting—

The door across the room swings open and someone…familiar steps inside.

Well, that's just peachy, isn't it?

You try not to let your surprise show and sit up straight as the white haired man takes a seat in front of you and makes himself comfortable.

“You seem a little too young to be in possession of old money. Did you steal it perhaps?” As Sylus speaks with one hand, you can feel nervousness sinking in once more. You clear your throat and pull out your wallet, tossing it toward him.

“See for yourself.” You jerk your chin, hands resting on your knees. “I've even got old coins.” You take out your coin purse. “My family used to collect them, but since I've got nowhere to go…I might as well sell them now.” You shrug, doing your best to concoct a story on the spot.

“Hmm…” Sylus pulls the bills out of your wallet, holding them under a light, before he nods. Though his eyes do falter on something in your wallet.

You know it’s not your ID or anything, since you made sure to take that out beforehand, but maybe the picture of your mom and dad?

As if to prove you right, Sylus takes the picture out, holding it between two fingers as he flips it over to inspect the back.

“What's a Deepspace Hunter's daughter doing at the Nest?” His eyes flick toward you and he raises an eyebrow.

A…

Huh?

I hope y'all liked this chapter! It's going a bit slow, but it should be fine! I'm honestly not sure where to go from here, I'm just making it up on the spot. I have a loose plot from beginning to end, but I don't really have anything in the middle. So...

It'll be fine!

I'm sure y'all didn't expect your father to be from this universe! (I'll apologize again for giving him a name lmao) I'm also gonna say sorry beforehand if Sylus or anyone else seems a bit out of character— I'm doing my best.

Taglist; @ladyparamount , @the-love-of-my-life96 , @rui-drawsbox , @deputy-videogamer

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everydayyoulovemeless · 1 year ago

Note

silly prompt idea even if November's already over: your choice of companions and their response to No Nut November? like whether they'd actually try it or their reactions to the games respective MC trying it. interpret it however you want

FNV Companions (+Yes Man, Victor, and Benny) Responses to No Nut November

➼ Word Count » 0.8k ➼ Warnings » MDNI ➼ Genre » Romantic, NSFW ➼ A/N » I had to cut out three of them, so I added 3 random ones! Hope you don't mind!

First off, Boone thinks you're stupid. There are so many things going on in the Mojave and you want to... not cum? Are your priorities questionable? Sure, but he'll follow along if you insist. He manages to make it the whole month, with no sweat. He's not an incredibly horny guy, to begin with, so it's mostly just him doing what he's always done. Even if you decide you're done with the challenge, he won't budge. 10/10, not only is he a team player, but he dominates the competition. Not literally (he's got a contest to win), but you get the idea.

"This was your idea. Stick with it."

Arcade gets a bit flustered when you ask him. When you said you had something you needed to talk to him about, this was the last thing he expected. He's not all that bad at it. He's got an occasional urge, but he's a focused man and can shut it down just as quickly as it comes. Although he was embarrassed at first, he gets confident throughout the rest of the month and will tease you to try and get you to lose. 7/10, he passes it with only a few issues and he's not above edging you on to get you to fail before him.

"You seem bothered. I can fix that, you know."

Raul chuckles at the idea. He's not hard to convince. It's not like he's got anything better to do, so why not. Raul doesn't have much trouble actually completing the challenge. He's old and too tired to do things like that frequently anyway, and he knows that's the case. So, instead, he tries to do everything in his power to get you to lose. He's like Arcade but way worse. He'll rasp into your ear more often, touch you for much longer than he needs to, or get right in your face in an attempt to make you flustered. 5/10, he's against you from the start.

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout, boss. I've always stood this close. Really."

Cass has heard of No Nut November before and has already tried it out a couple of times (with varying outcomes), so it's safe to say she'd be willing to try it out again with you. She thinks it could be fun, especially if you allow her to mix a few drinks into the picture. She'd love to see how long she'd last but if you get a few bottles of whiskey into her system, she'll be clinging to your shoulder and asking to fuck. 2/10, she tires?? I guess??

"Who said we couldn't take a couple of breaks? It's not like either of us are actually counting."

Veronica's never heard of it before, but she'd be lying if she said it didn't pique her interest in some way. She's curious about how difficult it's actually got to be, and to her surprise (and slight disappointment), she finds it to be easy. Veronica has incredible amounts of self-control when it comes to sex and masturbation, so she never really viewed it as a challenge. However, just because she finds it easy, doesn't mean she won't cheer you on. 10/10, she passes and makes you pass as well, there's no one better you could ask.

"Only a few days left! This'll be easy! :)"

Yes Man will be as enthusiastic as ever. Of course, he'll participate! There's nothing he'd like more than doing something with you. He struggles quite a bit when it comes to making it through the month, and probably won't make it, but he sure does try! And even if he loses early on, he'd gladly help you complete it on your own. 5/10, helps everyone but himself.

"Forget about me, I have full confidence in your ability!"

Victor has never been more confused in his life. What the hell does that even mean? He supposes he'll try it out, mostly because he doesn't know what's happening, but he's still willing to give it a shot. The only way Victor fails is if you fail. He only masturbates twice a year, and if he were to have sex, it'd be with you. And if you're offering, there's never a moment when he'd deny it. 7/10, could win but it solely depends on you're drive to complete it.

"Say that again, doll? What's it you want me t'do?"

Benny is utterly appalled. Why would he want to do something so silly? What’s even the point? He’s got you, this challenge couldn’t possibly hold. So when he hears that you’ve taken it upon yourself to actively participate, he’s at a loss. He doesn’t want to look like a chump in front of you, but at the same time, you can’t actually be serious. A month? Are you sure? He’s, by no means, a team player. 0/10 failed immediately and didn’t even try.

“C’mon, baby, rethink it, won’t you? You couldn’t really go the whole month without me, could you?”

108 notes · View notes

barbika1508 · 1 year ago

Text

Claiming what is mine (Sebastian Sallow x MC x Ominis Gaunt)

Word Count: 18,2k

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Threesome,Female oral receiving, Riding, V Fingering

Summary: Jealousy is something MC has gotten familiar with, always managing to reign in her boys loving them the same even through sometimes ridiculous tantrums. But when it’s her turn of feeling envious things tend to turn out spellbinding,

Authors Note: L/N – stands for Last Name. I referenced the song Ekaterina Shelehova - Savage Daughter. Finally wrote a one-shot, not that it took me a dang long while but here we are. This is pure selfishness from my parttttt, hope you enjoy it :3

I've sadly no idea whose this picture or screenshot belongs to I got it from tiktok.

‘’How about it, L/N? Fancy an outing to Hogsmeade before exam’s start?’’

I hum at the question the conversation that flew between the girls redirected to include me ‘’Ah so predictable. She is going to blow us off girls.’’ Imelda snorts ‘’The hesitation is enough of an answer.’’

The amusement in her tone and comment have me frowning as I crack an eye open, to send a glare at the Slytherin girl. With 2 classes cancelled I’ve been dragged outside my napping spot relocated, Poppy being impossible to say no to. They’ve chosen to take us to the big expanse outside of the Bell tower to the Hogwarts grounds. Unfortunately, other students had a similar idea as my friends. Luckily, we took a detour away from the fountain and benches picking a patch of grass covered land of to the side.

I’ve made good use of my one-shoulder bag and cloak turning them into a makeshift pillow, having laid down first the girls settling on my right, leaving me be as they began chatting. That is until Natty brought up the topic, their almost weekly trip to Hogsmeade always extended to me to join in. It’s not that I always said no, but being an ancient magic wielder that is still in rigorous training – not to sound arrogant it’s just the truth – and trying to keep up with studies time is somewhat a luxury.

‘’Can you stop speaking for me? How do you know for certain I’mma say no?’’ I grumble watching her smirk knowingly crossing her arms, keeping a confident demander while Natty and Poppy giggle, amused by us.

‘’Oh, I’m sorry girls, Sebastian asked to copy my notes, Oh I’m so sorry I promised Ominis to help him with bla bla bla…’’ Imelda raises her tone bringing her hand to her forehead exaggerating in her imitation of me. I sit up quickly ready to send a harmless jinx at her choosing to give her a deadpanned glare instead. It leaves her unphased doubling over in laughter pointing her finger at me ‘’Spot on, wasn’t I?’’ she shouts through laughter while Poppy reaches over brushing something from my shoulders.

‘’Don’t mind her Mc.’’ she begins sweetly ‘’We understand you have important responsibilities to tend to.’’ Turning slightly right to face the girls and oversee the castle I pout at the Hufflepuff that despite the jab remains all to innocent looking for me to tease her in return or take it to heart.

‘’Alright settle down, I’m sure Mc finds it difficult to say no given her very realistic load of obligations.’’ Natty the voice of reason comes to my defence to which I give her a thankful smile her seriousness an attempt to placate the girls.

‘’Hey if I had two dotting boyfriends, I would blow us off too. All the time.’’ Imelda comments lying down propped up by her elbows, her words causing heat to hit my cheeks.

‘’I do not blow you off all the time!’’ I counter ‘’I hardly spend time with them if you must know.’’

My outburst causes them to explode into another fit of laughter, bringing attention to us from some onlookers. As grumpy as I feel I cross my arms momentarily ending up throwing them in the air for dramatics letting myself fall back on the ground, eyes closing ‘’Laugh all you want, girls. I know what I’m about.’’

More teasing ensues at my expanse, Imelda having a fieldtrip of a day. Seeing her so animated and engaged I let her be, even Natty coming up with a few blows of her showing her Gryffindor spirit. Poppy remains the only neutral one, discouraging them succeeding only when she switches the theme over to Imelda liking a fellow Slytherin boy as of recent.

While the Hufflepuff and the Gryffindor gals begin their interrogation I readjust myself by propping my head on my arms now raised and bent behind my head. Oh, the beginning stages of liking someone. I don’t miss the whole cat and mouse chase, people tend to do at all. Liking one person is hard enough as it is but liking two people? Unable to decide between them? Favouring a life of loneliness instead of breaking someone’s heart? That sounds about right in my case. The confusion and fear were too real.

Fortunately, what I thought were one sided feelings turned out to be recuperated on both sides. It still feels quite unbelievable even now that we’ve been together for more than a year. Yeah, the 5th year was a bit much to entertain the notion of romance as I’ve had too many near death experiences. The whole ancient magic ability still something of a puzzle even today my familiarity better but caution ever present.

I digress, nonetheless.

The thought of my boyfriend’s instantly calms me down, memories of horrors laid to rest as I smile softly at the image of them in class right now. I’m not sure which subjects they are attending so I let my imagination run, seeing Ominis leant on the desk propping his head up with his hand half asleep as Professor Bin rambles about some battle that happened way to long ago. Sebastian on the other end is stuck in charms class I’m sure trying to get Garreth in trouble for no good reason. Even after going through what he did, he still hasn’t matured to the point of losing his mischief the trait evolving in my opinion into a more undetectable approach his detention days over as he has gotten bloody brilliant at the mischief he manages.

‘’…speaking of future boyfriends and regular ones, isn’t that Sebastian?’’ Natty pipes up in question.

‘’Hey, I didn’t say I was going to court him!’’ Imelda hisses in protests, while I remain unmoving trying my best not to be obvious or too eager to see one of my boyfriends.

‘’You don’t need to use words; it’s written all over your face dear Imelda.’’ Poppy giggles in delight. Curiosity getting the best of me I open my eyes taking in the cloudless blue sky, eyes briefly watering thanks to the sun shining directly at us prompting me to sit back up.

‘’It really is my dear friend.’’ Natty confirms, our Slytherin companion grumbling without much fire, her cheeks coloured pink. I don’t bother with chiming in Imelda having revealed much more than she intended to, Natty having good intuition with guessing things portraying herself as knowing when she in reality is just bluffing.

I scan the grounds noticing several students making their way from the Bell tower outside. So, my gaze takes me directly to the castle’s entrance things looking normal. Normal at first glance that is. Were the girls trying to get a rouse out of Imelda or me? Because Sebastian is nowhere in sight. And I pride myself in finding him and Ominis easily, their magic a song in my ear whenever they are close.

Placing my right hand on the ground touching the grass and earth I take a breath, grounding myself so to speak only now noticing a few girls past the entrance point crowded together finally finding my boyfriend. Although I’ll admit I’m not too keen on the sight.

He’s surrounded by girls from the 6th year, our classmates even, the younger ones shyly standing aback but still hovering, nonetheless. Ever the flawless charmer he is, he chats effortlessly I’m sure replying to anything thrown his way, turning to each and every girl making sure to look in their eyes. And give them his full attention if only for a moment. ‘It’s just the way he is’ Ominis’ words ring in my head ‘He’s not doing it on purpose.’. I exhale through my nose watching as Sebastian gets flustered by something, right hand reaching behind his head to scratch awkwardly the action making some girls swoon – they aren’t subtle, ogling him brazenly – his fans oblivious to his nervous habit. Good. I’m glad he’s nervous. Being too polite and nice to shoo them away, knowing full well he’s a taken man. The audacity.

‘’It seems our Mc doesn’t have to eat Pepper Imps to have smoke coming out of her ears.’’

The remark has me snapping my attention back to my friends their mirth tripled as they observe me, as if waiting for me to snap at any moment. Their looks bring me back to myself so to speak felling how tense I’ve gotten, even grinding my teeth together. Shaking my head, I tsk lying down again, arms crossed as the scene of my boyfriend’s admirers hogging him keeps playing before my eyes.

‘’Ut was a high concentration of magic passing by.’’ I bluff glaring at the sky ‘’Another side-effect to add to the never-ending list of dealing with ancient magic.’’

‘’Yeah, yeah sure.’’ Imelda mocks good-heartedly, Poppy leaning over me all the sudden sporting her never changing gentle smile.

‘’Still with us?’’ she asks to which I immediately nod playing nonchalance.

It’s a well-known fact that Sebastian has something about him that draws girls to him. So many whispers are still ongoing to the present day, of how handsome and capable he is, his admirers eager to boost his ego. Even after finding out about our relationship the persistency of some girls is infuriating to say the least. Their audacity knowns no bounds, which is a topic of argument whenever jealousy gets a hold of me.

I am mortal after all. As much as the boy’s spiral into most of the time reckless and possessive jealousy, mine remains undetectable most of the time. But it grows deep and doesn’t relent so easily.

I’m stressed enough with the exams coming up and tasks needing to be completed the Keeper’s still finding ways with teaching me new things, uncovering, and solving mysteries that don’t all lead to happy endings. I shouldn’t be surprised at these curveballs being thrown my way. Jealousy is a mundane feeling. I don’t have time for it. And yet the image keeps on taunting me even as Poppy nudges me gently.

‘’…got tired of your fan club there Sallow?’’ Imelda teases, my boyfriend’s presence bringing me to look towards his presence, his magic a gentle hum in the back of my mind. Spotting him he’s carrying his cloak and suit jacket over his shoulder, sleeves of his white’s shirt rolled up. Hair messy. A handsome heartthrob.

‘’Bugger of Reyes I don’t have a fan club.’’ He retorts, eyes meeting my own his expression softening immediately as he offers a smile approaching me.

‘’You can’t deny what we’ve all seen Sallow. You better get those girls in order. Or else someone might take it upon themselves to do so. Not so nicely.’’ Glancing over at the Slytherin girls her smirk is devious eyes glinting with ideas I’m sure eager to offer her assistance as soon as we’re alone.

‘’Ahhh give Mc some credit. She is too proper for petty jealousy.’’ Natty counters her words optimistic. Even though I’m ready to accept whatever Imelda has in store for any girl that dares to even think about snatching my Sebastian away.

‘’You are being ridiculous both of you. There is nothing to be jealous of.’’ Sebastian answers, sitting himself on my right side near my hip his hand finding my own immediately ‘’Right darling? You know I have eyes only for you.’’ To prove his point, he gives me a kiss on the hand a wink following that brings me to a smile nonetheless.

‘’And Ominis.’’ Poppy adds as I push myself into a sitting position melting slightly at the look my boyfriend is giving me, as if I’m the only light in darkness.

‘’That goes unsaid.’’ I finally speak up, watching as he relaxes obviously having been worried about my reaction given the teases sent his way from the girls.

‘’That’s called having a strong bond, Imelda. Something unfortunately, we all know is unknown territory for you.’’ At his clap back, I automatically swing at the back of his head with my free hand hitting him gently but enough to get his attention as I shake my head at him.

‘’What?! I dare you to say that…’’ the Slytherin girl explodes like we all know she would, Natty rising on her knees to block the irked girl from attacking my boyfriend as she for now only has her finger pointed.

‘’Not for long if that’s the case.’’ Poppy chirps happily rising her arms in the air waving out of the blue whilst still sitting on the ground ‘’Luckily for you, Percival happens to be my partner in herbology. Enough reason to hang out with us.’’ The sweet Hufflepuff is cunning as a Slytherin sometimes her smoothness and effortlessness rising some flags in my head to be aware of her despite knowing Poppy is as pure as the morning sunlight.

‘’Poppy you…’’ Imelda begins chocking on air looking away in embarrassment as she settles into a more proper sitting position smoothing her skirt and cloak, Natty helping her for a moment turning to greet Percival who greets us having come over. Sebastian pulls my focus away from everyone a greeting of my own falling from the tip of my tongue as he leans forward, still holding onto my hand making sure to whisper into my left ear that is turned from the others.

‘’Reyes is into Periwinkle?’’ he whispers in disbelief and joviality, his crocked smirk giving him away entirely, the glance he sends his two fellows Slytherin investing.

‘’Why not?’’ I shrug watching as our always loud and outspoken Imelda turns into a semi-serious lady shyness an unfamiliar trait on her as she silently listens to Percival who happily converses with Poppy and Natty, herbology the main theme predictably enough. The fact alone has me smiling as our dear Slytherin’s skills in that class are the worst from us all, the girl managing to kill almost every plant she touches and tends to. Not with intention.

‘’What do you mean why not?’’ Sebastian inquires turning to me ‘’They are complete opposites.’’

I raise an eyebrow at that ‘’Opposites attract.’’

Still bewildered at my apparent approval he glances away I’m sure his thoughts taking him to ridiculous places. I’ve learned a long time ago that boys, and men tend to go to weird places in their mind for no reason.

‘’Besides he’s not a bad looking chap. Imelda could have done way worse. Jeremy Levingston? That was a whole circus, remember?’’ I snort in the end, not at all phased at his sudden turn of head offering a pointed glare with his eyebrows furred, lips in a line ‘’What?’’

‘’Not a bad looking chap?’’ he repeats my words, making me pause as I attempt to look towards the guy and shrug, Sebastian’s hand following to cup my cheek and turn me to face him.

‘’No.’’ he says calmly ‘’Your eyes are to be on me and Ominis only.’’ He states seriously clearly displeased with my observation, jealousy coming from Sebastian a normality.

And I would normally play along, reassurance’s easy as I know exactly what to say to calm him, reign him in if you will. But with his popularity rising again, bringing unwanted attention I keep calm. Almost cold even lowering my chin to give him a warning look of my own which at first doesn’t faze him.

‘’Does that rule not apply to you?’’ I ask trying my best to keep the raising anger at bay ‘’If it were the case, you’ve already broken it multiple times. Not even 5 minutes ago.’’ Raising an eyebrow, I pull my hand from his ignoring the shaking of his head, mouth opening to try and convince me otherwise ‘’No matter. I’m sure they were only interested into academics, right?’’ narrowing my eyes I raise onto my knee’s avoiding his hand catching my own as I reach for my bag and cloak. The whole academics thing is a well-known excuse from Sebastian – even though I have every reason to believe him and his faithfulness the words just slip out.

‘’Love it’s not…please just…’’ he attempts as I stand up bringing attention onto myself. So, I muster up the fakest smile I can, petulance simmering.

‘’I bid you adieu my friends. It seems I’ve forgotten of a meetup with Professor Weasley.’’

Unmissable is Imelda’s smirk, Natty’s curious eyes, and Poppy’s genuine nod as she buys into the little white lie. I give my boyfriend a last look his apologetic expression nearly making me reconsider punishing him too much. But I’ve set on this path, jealousy an emote that can overwhelm the most rational of thoughts.

Instead of giving Sebastian a kiss goodbye I raise an eyebrow to “seal the deal” so to speak making him aware that I am cross with him. With that I make my way away from my friend’s their silence noticeable. Safe to say I’ve left an impression.

Ugh boys.

*The next morning*

‘’So, I’ve heard Periwinkle is joining the gang tomorrow.’’ I greet Imelda as she sits down next to me, the Slytherin table mostly empty as it’s still early in the morning for students to be up. The students who are present are the early risers the Great Hall scarcely occupied and not noisy.

Wordless her face twists into a glare, sleep still clinging onto her. It makes it all the more amusing that she can’t hide her feelings.

‘’Is this your way of telling me, you’ll be joining us?’’ her retort comes as I twist my teaspoon around the cup of cocoa I’m drinking.

‘’Irrelevant. Undecided. What is interesting is that you’ve got a pass on quidditch practice. For the first time in your career.’’ I exaggerate as I speak to punctuate my words, Imelda ending up groaning in annoyance stopping her action of buttering up a piece of toast. I giggle at her reaction nudging her with my shoulder ‘’No need to be shy about it, fearless captain.’’ Her sigh and defeated look send me to burst into a fit of chuckles, the always loud and confident Imelda brought to silence a feat in on itself.

‘’M not shy.’’ Grumbling she munches on her toast ‘’Besides it came to be, I didn’t lie to get out of anything.’’

‘’Oh yeah, no volunteering to repot mandrakes which is such a milestone that anyone would jump at the chance to do it. Once in a lifetime opportunity and all.’’

She elbows into my side, making me groan this time around my amusement still ongoing even as she turns with her body towards me sitting casually.

‘’Shut up. Like you’re any better.’’ Her poor attempt backfires as I nod exaggeratedly.

‘’I’m not.’’ I wink having the time of my life at Imelda being so placid, tiredness not the cause of it.

‘’Speaking of boys, unfortunately…’’ my smile widens as I calm down at her tone dipping ‘’…where are your guard dogs?’’ I click my tongue reaching for a croissant having had my fill of jam and fresh baked bread but craving an additional sweet to mainly preoccupy my hands ‘’Is Sallow taking the silent treatment badly as the rumours say?’’

‘’This place has to many rumours going around, for it to be fun anymore.’’ I pout nibbling on the pastry.

‘’That’s because they are mostly about you Hero of Hogwarts.’’ She teases looking smug as I cringe at the title still not used to it, or really feeling worthy of it.

‘’They weren’t lately. With quidditch practice on the regular, and you winning most games tides have been turning.’’ I try to deflect, Imelda pushing at my shoulder for me to shut up as I chuckle having redirected the conversation back to her.

‘’I know you’re secretly obsessed with me L/N but recently it’s not been so secret anymore.’’

Confidence radiates of my friend, as she beams patting me over the back not so gently. I don’t even bother replying as she’s certain in herself like one of my boyfriends, their charm knowing no bound quick to deflect any protests.

‘’You’re impossible.’’ I mumble taking a sip of my now cooled drink looking ahead of us, towards the Hufflepuff table spotting Natty there conversing happily with some Hufflepuffs, Poppy not in sight. She’s an early riser as well her absence unusual.

‘’And yet you adore me.’’ At the comment I glance at her in curiosity but end up confused as she leans closer into my personal space even scotching on the bench the cough, she lets out somewhat awkward as she tilts her head forward.

Silently I get her hint tuning my head to the right looking towards the entrance seeing more students make their way to breakfast, her change in behaviour puzzling me. Looking around I’m lost for a solid moment not spotting anything out of the unusual util I see what had her halting.

‘’That’s a rare sight.’’ She remarks neutrally.

I on the other end am left stunned quite literally. At the pillar near to doors stand my calmer boyfriend conversing rather animatedly with a Ravenclaw girl. Bertha Kettleburn. Known for being one of the pretties’ girls at school she is equally smart. With long black hair, pale skin, and on the skinny side even from halfway across the hall, I find myself admiring her.

Which is why it’s odd that she is talking to my boyfriend. Standing rather close to him, the pretence of avoiding other students’ bollocks frankly speaking as they have space to move back into, and yet the two remain front and centre so everyone can see them together. My thoughts have me glancing at other students who are looking towards them in confusion some meeting my eyes on accident. I groan lowly knowing the new wave of rumours are about to start.

Not many wizards and witches are nice or decent enough to talk to Ominis. Most tend to avoid him, the family name giving him a bad reputation even after the past two years of my beloved helping with protecting students and creatures still not shaking off certain allegations. Unfortunately, even as brave ad friendly as Natty is for example she isn’t too keen on him. And she is one of the nicest people I know.

So, this comes as a surprise to everyone that Bertha is talking to him, enthusiastically out in the open.

I narrow my eyes at my boyfriend surprised to find him paying her full attention not even having his head hung down but is facing her.

‘’What’s that all about?’’ Imelda inquires resting one arm over my shoulder leaning onto me. I find myself quiet, my stomach beginning to churn.

‘’So much for the tables turning.’’ I grumble my mood dampened.

‘’Not everything is about you, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.’’ my Slytherin friend attempts to cheer me up, even running her hand soothingly down my back.

‘’Very reassuring.’’ I can’t help but to glance forth noticing curious looks sent my way, snickers unmissable the buzz gaining traction. Specially as Bertha skips over to her friends having the nerve to wave in greeting.

‘’What a knob.’’ Imelda says under her breath, as I notice movement on my right Ominis making his way over, a small smile on his lips.

‘’Uh huh.’’ I hum absently taking in his state how cheery he looks.

‘’Hmmm.’’ Imelda adds as he approaches taking a huge bite out of her second piece of toast.

‘’Good morning, darling.’’ Ominis greets obviously in a good mood ‘’Imelda.’’ Acknowledging her he does raise an eyebrow his wand that he has lifted pulsing red ‘’Did something interesting happen?’’ the question follows as he sits down, pressing his thigh against my own the closeness a new development.

‘’You could say that.’’ my fried starts, to which I give her a warning look watching as she visibly restrains herself from saying I’m sure something outrageous the pause to long my boyfriend rising his eyebrows in question ‘’I’m stealing your girl.’’ And to demonstrate it with surprising strength she wraps both arms around my shoulders and pulls me against her, leaning us both away from my boyfriend who looks further confused his free hand placing itself over my mid-thigh as if to hold me in place.

‘’Seriously…’’ I begin to protest her protectiveness adorable, even if it’s startling the amount of touching, she has done.

‘’Yes seriously.’’ She interrupts ‘’You should’ve treated her better Ominis. Your girl is to pretty and too nice to be unappreciated. I’d not have time to bother with anyone or literally anything else if she was with me!’’

The taunt has me rising both eyebrows looking up at the Slytherin, her face intent as she’s watching my boyfriend like a hawk, my own gaze slipping back to him watching as he hangs his head expression controlled the shenanigans happening confusing. His hand is rather warm still resting over my skirt.

‘’Heyyy guys!!!’’ breaking the growing tension is Poppy who is way too spring and happy for morning as she bounces over to us, unbothered by our closeness ‘’Morning hugs?’’

I immediately smile at how pure she is glad that it spurs Imelda to release me, acting tough suddenly brushing her shoulders straightening out her coat and uniform ‘’You saw nothing.’’ She even turns forward putting distance between us, as I exchange looks with the Hufflepuff.

‘’I’m always up for hugs.’’ I comment wanting to spread my arms but get intercepted by Ominis’s hand taking a hold of mine. My usually more reserved boyfriend places a kiss onto the corner of my mouth, I’m sure his intention different given the too serios look he gives ‘’And kisses.’’ I smile exchanging a look with Poppy that glances between the three of us, understanding enough to nod and make way to Imelda’s left side to eat breakfast.

‘’Not feeling shy this morning Mr. Gaunt?’’ I tease smiling at my beloved, seeing and knowing that something absurd is going on in that brilliant head of his. The PDA is enough of a tell in its own.

‘’I wouldn’t use the word shy when I’m around you darling.’’ He replies so sure of himself, bashfulness not a trait to describe my boyfriend compared to the fumbling and blushing boy I met 2 years ago ‘’Care to explain what this was all about? Has Imelda taken a fancy of you?’’

No longer is his head hung but rather his entire posture proper, milky eyes shifting left and right the closeness again something out of character for him.

‘’It would seem so.’’ I glance over at the two girls engrossed into a conversation. Ominis’ hand comes under my chin turning my head right back to him, sternness fixated on his features.

‘’Too bad. You are already taken little dove.’’ His voice is steady, not leaving room for rebuttal his hold unwavering keeping me in place. I let out a loud hum narrowing my eyes at my blonde boyfriend admiring how handsome he us, attire, and hair all in place, words and actions showing off his certainty. And yet the switch the seriousness he’s portraying in my company while he was offering smiles and rapt attention to Bertha have my blood cooling. His possessiveness which I’d usually find rather charming – having gotten used to it – right now is doing the opposite.

‘’A well-known fact, I’m sure.’’ I click with my tongue taking a hold of his hand bringing it to the table. I retreat my own hand instead of intertwining our fingers keeping myself in check ‘’I am curious about something, love. Did Bertha need something? Or did she bump into you?’’

I try to keep my voice light, given I can’t really keep myself from hiding away my emotions on my face trying my very best not to find the witch and show her how I really feel currently.

‘’Bertha?’’ he repeats her name making me poke my cheek with my tongue as I hum in confirmation ‘’We’re classmates for the most part this year. I was surprised when she asked for a study date in regards of history of magic there being so many years to remember. So, in exchange, she’ll help me with me finding potion ingredients. Apparently, she knows some places to get rare plants.’’

I don’t speak after he’s done explaining surprised, he has so much to say about it his tone as well revealing some form of excitement at their plan.

‘’Why are you silent, darling? I’ll make sure to bring plants for you too.’’

I close my eyes at his obliviousness, exhaling through my nose rather loudly. I can feel eyes on the back of my head.

‘’So, study dates and adventures with Bertha Kettleburn. What a lucky gal.’’ the last part I mutter under my breath turning forward to peer and confirm that my cup is empty which I slide away from me whilst receiving a nudge from Imelda on my left.

‘’First or second round?’’ Imelda asks as Ominis catches my hand resting on the table.

‘’It’s purely academic Y/N. Why would she be lucky?’’ my boyfriend asks baffled getting upset.

‘’First.’’ I whisper to my friend who giddily cheers I’m sure planning something extra like usual.

‘’First what? You’ve been mysterious ever since I’ve come over. What is Imelda up to? I hope she’s not dragging you into trouble!’’ the Slytherin boy rumbles urgently hold firm on my hand.

‘’I’ve no idea what goes on in her head sometimes.‘’ I sigh watching as he blinks in question ‘’Not to worry though, boyfriend.’’ I unintentionally bite out the last word ‘’You’re going to be to busy with your study dates to worry about little ol’ me. Don’t let thoughts of me exhaust you. You know very well I can take care of myself.’’

I grin widely Ominis’ expression only now shifting into something akin to panic.

‘’Study date no, my love, my heart. It’s not meant like that! It’s just an expression…’’ he rushes upon his realization, my gaze for whatever reason turning forward spotting Bertha frighteningly fast, her eyes already on us. Her fellow Ravenclaws that are around her are talking excitedly their attentions not subtle in their glances sent our way as well. The Ravenclaw girl even dares to give another small wave, eyes shifting to Ominis who tries to get closer to me, arms settling around my waist.

‘’…we are friends, classmates. We will only revise the subject of this year.’’

I turn to face him abruptly trying my best to keep calm because his words remind me of our boyfriend ‘’Purely academic huh?’’ I state sounding madder than I intended to ‘’You and Sebastian can go running around letting girls ogle you left and right, ask you on studyyy dates, and other ridiculous idea’s they come up with. And you fools oblige them. Bollocks.’’ In my rant I manage to untangle his hands, which he does willingly pull back giving me room to stand and climb over the bench his wand in hand pulsing red, expression pleading ‘’You say everybody knows I am taken. But when it comes to you two? The audacity.’’ I huff ‘’Gods forbid I do anything, without you two freaking out.’’ I brush my hand over my face feeling hot from anger spotting Sebastian making his way over, cautious as he looks between us knowing something’s up.

‘’Mc…’’

‘’Do what you want.’’ I raise my hand in surrender shaking my head ‘’Go and bedazzle everyone with your knowledge, kindness, handsomeness whatever.’’ I begin to walk ‘’Be free.’’ I add staring straight at Sebastian aware how ridiculous and dramatic I’m being emotions taking the best of me.

‘’So free.’’ I grumble marching past my brunette boyfriend that stares at me with puppy eyes knowing better than to get in my way.

Ridiculous, men are ridiculous.

‘’Rather thirsty, aren’t we?’’ I roll my eyes at the comment, Imelda nudging me from humour un-fazing me, her good mood tonight noticeable to everyone, as our friend group is more relaxed than the usual. Even with the addition of Imelda’s crush sitting opposite of her.

‘’Just plain thirsty. Its good butterbeer.’’ I reply nonchalantly placing the metal jug back on the table it being my second round of the evening.

‘’That I agree with.’’ Natty cheers taking a drink of her own sitting on the end of the table, free from being sandwiched unlike I, with Imelda on my right and Garreth on my left busy checking out a fellow Gryffindor two tables away from us, the usually shameless red-head lad tame. Percival seems happy to just be here sitting opposite of Imelda, with Poppy next to him and Amit on her other side.

‘’To good butterbeer and excellent weather for stargazing tonight guys.’’ The Ravenclaw cheers his future plans not surprising anyone his cheer charming everyone drinking to it.

‘’So, I’ve been hearing some things.’’ Percival speaks up tone filled with curiosity leaning forward his gaze going back and forth whilst I angle the jug finishing my drink ‘’Did you really take care of an encampment of poachers??’’

The question seems to be sent towards our Slytherin quidditch captain the less acquainted Slytherin boy genuinely curious at the rumour he picked up on. One of the many I’m sure.

At his question even Garreth looks towards us having a knowing smirk, everyone’s eyes landing on Imelda. Except for my own as I lean onto the table on my arms trying to capture Sirona’s gaze. Unfortunately for me she’s busy but nonetheless happy as she serves her other patron’s drinks The Three Broomsticks being packed even for a Friday night.

‘’I mean…’’ Imelda begins everyone sort of holding their breath for her reply, the lack of confidence I’m sure still a novelty coming from out friend.

‘’Oh yeah, she did.’’ I find myself stating observing wizards and witches having harmless fun around us ‘’She isn’t captain by mere strike of fortune.’’ I turn to look at Percival seriously ‘’A master strategist this one.’’ I send a glance at a blushing Imelda that has her eyes averted ‘’Planned the whole thing. Impromptu if I may add.’’

I turn back towards the bar not seeing the barkeep and owner there anymore ‘’Did you stumble upon them? Either they are desperate enough to be unafraid of being close to the main roads, or they are plain foolish.’’ The Slytherin thinks aloud as I sit back in defeat, exchanging a look with Garett whose smile disappeared turning into a glare, our friendship lately growing thanks to his ambition of creating a more powerful wingleweld potion. He’s rather defensive of my honour as some students like to diminish some of my accomplishments, while I got rather good at taming some of his experiments and dragging him out of trouble, his mouth faster than his brain.

‘’We were looking for Horklump Juice actually.’’ Poppy speaks up ‘’Took us a hike to the north of the castle. Luckily, we stumbled upon them. I’d rather hate to imagine what they had in store for those poor Fwooper’s.’’ always sympathetic Poppy’s tone makes it even more worth it ‘’They would’ve taken out the entire den if it weren’t for us.’’

At her tone turning sad I send a glance her way, eyes meeting my own the memory replying in my mind how sad she has gotten over one of the creatures getting hurt.

‘’But wouldn’t it have been better to call a professor? Sent a distress signal?’’ Percival presses. I can feel his burning gaze on me, feeling the shift in the air his curiosity a bit pressing.

‘’Nahh mate, it would’ve ruined the whole surprise attack. Sometimes all you need is a bit of bravery and sparkle of strategy to have the upper hand,’’ Garreth defends his commentary brining a smile to my lips. Finally, as Sirona is back at the bar she glances up, my hand shooting halfway up catching her gaze.

Making a gesture to signalize another round she returns a kind smile offering a nod to which I give a thumbs up sitting back comfortably ‘’Next time you should join us.’’ Natty chuckles looking pointedly at Percival ‘’There’s never a dull moment. Even with gathering basic ingredients. Such is the way of magic.’’

I nod at her words seeing that our collective answers haven’t really satisfied the Slytherin. And luckily for the newest addition – yet to be added to our group in my personal opinion – Amit brings up the conversation of the upcoming quidditch game’s the mention alone springing Imelda into action, quick to defend her house and honour being so sure of her skills and team that a bet gets made.

A bet which I for once remain neutral from, happily drinking another round of butterbeer simply listening to my friends laughing, teasing, and even arguing Garreth chirping in jokes at times only for me to hear, our own brief but meaningful adventures for potion ingredients causing our platonic bond to grow fonder. To the displeasure of my boyfriends. Specially Sebastian and the whole house rivalry which I don’t exactly get even less support. I am loyal to my house, proud of it it’s colours representation, but can’t find it in myself to rival or envy others given I’ve got friends in all houses and help any student of Howards in need regarding of their house.

At the mention of rivalry, I’ve been good so far trying not to think of my beloveds who are obviously missing out on the merriments of tonight. To be honest and with slight guilt I admit I am not sure if they were even invited to join. I’m sure Poppy wouldn’t lie and told them the truth if she was asked, as well as Natty.

It makes me wonder what the two have been up to since the arguments I’ve engaged them into. The silent treatment had been working, the boys redirected mostly by Imelda that has been truly clinging onto me since that morning, I’m sure her words messing with Ominis’ head as sometimes as smart as intelligent that he is emotions play crucial roles in our lives, nonetheless.

I assume they must be in the undercroft planning. What exactly I’m not sure. And yet my gut is telling me they must be up to something to gain my favour. Sebastian impatient even when he’s mad at me – mostly due to some ventures going wrong usually – doesn’t keep distance for long. Ominis is the one I want least to disappoint the always composed and logical of my boyfriends setting me into an ambitious path to keep making him proud, and Sebastian on the other hand safe, and most definitely away from danger. For the most part as trouble and danger find me.

What could they be doing thought? Its rare and weird that they’ve not looked for me, its…

‘’If you keep twisting those eyebrows of yours any tighter, you’ll remain with permanent grump face.’’ Garreth points out as Poppy proudly debates with Amit about mooncalf’s, Natty explaining about the difference in magic with Imelda and Percival who has lost the edge he had in the beginning.

Turning to the red head he has a smile, eyes taking me in ‘’You’re supposed to be having fun L/N. The Hero of Hogwarts should have days off too.’’

At the damned title I blow raspberries tapping my fingers against the jug, my right foot under the table beginning to move in circle ‘’I am having fun.’’ I reply genuinely, taking a sip watching as the Gryffindor’s face portrays his disbelief ‘’I am!’’ I exclaim shoving him gently ending up chuckling ‘’I’m not thinking about the never-ending list of to-dos the assignments I’ve yet to start, the requests I’ve got to tackle…’’

‘’Alright, alright you’re spiralin’.’’ He interrupts grabbing a hold of his own drink, which he bumps against mine gently prompting me to follow his lead ‘’Sorry I’ve asked. Here’s to less things to do instead.’’

At his words I nod, taking a long sip exhaling loudly finishing the round before everyone again ‘’What woes you my friend huh? You’ve been rather preoccupied as well.’’ I throw an arm around his shoulders leaning closer for effect, not missing the not-so-subtle blush rising on his cheeks.

‘’That’s not the word I’d use.’’ He tries to hide behind his cup slowly sipping on his butterbeer to which I pat him over the shoulder humming.

‘’If I were you, I’d finish that drink faster. Because your crush is standing at the bar. And I happen to have finished my drink.’’ I let go of him slowly playing nonchalant, ignoring the haziness that’s made an appearance the butterbeer’s I’ve consumed finally taking hold.

As Garreth takes a look his head twisting, I fish out some galleons from the pocket of my discharged coat behind me sliding them over to my friend ‘’Come on Mr. Bravery. A sparkle of tactics and you’re there.’’ I repeat his words from earlier downright manhandling him to take the money and our empty jugs.

I get myself more comfortable to prevent him from chickening out, his nervous look noticed by Natsai as she looks between us in confusion whilst I give Garreth an okay sign ‘’You’ve got this, I believe in you Weasley.’’

And just like that off he goes without a second thought or taking a breath, Imelda having fared way worse when chatting with Percival the first few times we’ve deliberately pushed then together to interact.

‘’There he goes.’’ I comment drumming my fingers of my right hand over the wooden table ‘’Like a baby giraffe learning how to walk.’’

My comparison has Natsai burst into a fit of giggles as we watch after him, bump into an older wizard in the attempt of standing next to his crush who finds it amusing as Garreth apologizes but offers a charming smile her way, our drinks entirely forgotten as the smitten boy remains holding onto the empty jugs.

‘’Boys are so hopeless aren’t they.’’ Natsai’s comment has me humming in agreement as we observe him for a while longer making sure he doesn’t need saving ‘’How are your better halves faring? Their absence is quite noticeable tonight.’’

I sigh with my entire chest propping my head on my arm ‘’Honestly, I do miss…’’

‘’Hey, they are about to start playing some music.’’ Imelda announces fully leaning onto me, nearly dislodging me if I didn’t have my feet planted on the ground. Slightly bothered but buzzed enough I get distracted at the said band of musicians in the corner of the pub suddenly beginning to play, the atmosphere of the entire place getting livelier.

I follow along sitting up straight letting Imelda push me for a bit, the song that’s being played familiar to everyone but myself as I watch students and adults alike singing along the lyrics. I clap with the rhythm content to sway left and right, watching as my friends lighten up enjoying themselves. It brings me to a peaceful state despite the chaos around me.

People get up to dance, cheers and encouragements shouted and whistles joyous as everyone’s troubles seem to melt away at least for tonight. Not for everyone.

I’m not like everyone after all. Surrounded by my kin, my friends, those who already proved they’d protect me, and intend to remain in my life should make me feel at ease. I should feel okay, happy seeing them so free. I offer smiles nodding along, as some go dancing, Amit getting asked by a girl our age to dance with her has everyone’s attention on the Ravenclaw.

Imelda strikes up a weird dance that Percival across her plays along with the two showing great potential and chemistry if they are to court. Poppy always so cheerful is a true cheerleader, Natsai having been one of the first to have left the table. Garreth has only made the appearance of bringing the entire table another round of drinks but was cutely pulled to dance with his crush, her smile reaching the stars.

I don’t regret coming out I really don’t. It’s fun and a rare moment in life where everything is good.

Except it’s not.

I’ve let my emotions get the better of me. I got petty over ridiculous things that could have been thought through. My choice was to listen to my friends teasing and well-meant words than talk to the two people who matter the most to me. What a fool.

I’d exchange this moment for some quiet and cold of the undercroft to spend time with my boys.

But I’ve made my bed.

The dancing eventually comes to a stop, the participants heavily breathing atmosphere still lively, the musicians taking a break along with others ordering more drinks chatter filling the air. Conversation flows back my group mates spilling jokes and random information, discovering new things about one another. I’m happy nobody ropes me into any discussions. I happily drink the butterbeer and munch on chips that Sirona brought over a while ago.

‘’Y/N-ah I’ve noticed you haven’t sung any of the songs, the whole evening.’’ Percival once more speaks up, his tone tinted with nosiness. He has a talent of bringing unwanted attention to me, as my friends’ chatter begins to die down.

I keep the silence going as I munch on the chips offering a shrug ‘’I’m not in a singing mood tonight.’’

He frowns at my response shaking his head offering a smile ‘’Oh I’m sure you are. You’ve certainly clapped to the right beat, better than anyone. Do you dislike the classics perhaps?’’

The details he keeps bringing have me questioning who this guy really is.

‘’Dislike no.’’ I begin clicking my tongue ‘’I’m into all kinds of music. It just has to be…I’m lacking words.’’ I drag my words out hoping he’ll get the hint of backing off. Glancing towards Imelda she has an eyebrow raised displeased with what’s happening I’m sure as she glares at Percival.

‘’She truly is. All kinds of music that is,’’ Poppy confirms ‘’Knowing fae music, Nordic war songs to name the ones that stood out to me, she even knows muggles tunes. But she sang a song for me a while back. She’s very tuneful and the lyrics were profound. Where did you learn that song?’’ the Hufflepuff turns to me purely curious as well, now everyone’s attention stuck onto me.

‘’I um…it’s not really the right settings for it…’’ I hesitate leaning back the excuse of going to the bathroom right on the tip of my tongue.

‘’Oh, sure it is my friend.’’ Natsai enthusiastically eggs on ‘’You can even tell the band the melody if you’d like. I’m certain they’d comply to your request.’’

‘’Sironaaaa!’’ Imelda raises her tone standing up her greeting exaggerated but avid.

‘’Such enthusiasm.’’ Shirona laughs in amusement placing shot glasses on the table along with a bottle of firewhiskey ‘’Have I heard right about a song request?’’

I immediately shake my head watching the bottle floats in the air magic doing its thing, pouring us all equal shots. Even small tricks as these meaningless to my companions are a wonder to me even to this day.

‘’Oh yes, Y/N here is apparently a great singer.’’ Imelda is immediate to encourage gone the glare she sported earlier.

‘’She truly is.’’ Poppy pouts giving me pleading eyes as I wrap my fingers around the glass. Full blown kicked-crup-puppy look.

‘’Dear Y/N you keep on surprising us.’’ Sirona compliments hovering still, firewhiskey floating away as she folds the tray under her arm ‘’Drink up. It will help with hesitancies.’’

For one she isn’t one to encourage drinking, this being a rarity to bring over a strong alcoholic drink. Knowing Shirona after doing task for her getting to know her, I’m certain her approach and timing was intentional. She must be aware of something. With the promise of a stronger buzz, the liquid looking dangerously red the need to forget about myself overpowers rational thoughts, as I grasp the glass switching it into my left hand.

I curl my fingers on my right hand making a fist and bring it down onto the table repeating the motion as I create a beat, all the while I drink the entirety of the glass content, grimacing at the scorching heat not giving myself time to recuperate as I reach over and save Poppy from drinking her own beverage.

Finishing the second shot I feel like I can breathe fire, shaking my head in reaction to the fire traveling down my throat warming me, my hair falling from the lose ponytail I’ve tied it up some time ago.

I let out a groan to clear out my throat before beginning to sing trying my hardest to ignore everyone’s apt attention.

‘’I am my mother's savage daughter, the one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones, I am my mother's savage daughter, I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voiceeee…’’ I let my voice tremble in the end looking at my friends Poppy already overjoyed, even if the version I sang to her was quieter and calmer. I’m erasing all tenderness singing from my throat trying to keep my voice heavy, words holding meaning to them.

I spare a look at my companions Natsai grinning ear to ear, Amit dazzled, Poppy lulling left and right, Percival completely taken aback but watching intently, while Imelda looks like she’s concentrating on the beat I’m creating looking like she wants to jump in. Sirona remains on the side silently observing. The banging brings attention over to our table. Thanks to the fire churning in my stomach, the feeling of bravery and confidence washing over me I lose all reservations raising my voice.

‘’My mother's child is a savage, She looks for her omens in the colours of stones…’’ something prompts me to stand up, now banging with both hands Imelda the first one to join the others quick to follow giving my voice more power ‘’…I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice.’’

Before I know it, I’m up on the table, stomping my boots on it, everyone cheering as I continue singing the lyrics that are flowing like a spring breeze, the power behind them filling me in a similar manner that ancient magic does.

I’ve captured enough attention to gain an audience as unabashed shouts and screams of encouragement join. It’s easy to sway to the music, the table become to small prompting me to jump past Natsai that makes way letting me dance onwards everyone else upkeeping the beat.

The talented Gryffindor casts a fire illusion after me, it dancing along creating I’m sure a more alluring effect as I hold onto my skirt making sure it doesn’t ride to high as I move to the rhythm pulling girls to dance with me.

Before I know it most of the pub is up, the girls cheers more potent than before I’m sure the lyrics enticing even as I near the end, some picking up on the words singing with me. The dance shifts almost on que into guys joining, them spinning the girls around. I avoid many outstretched hands fully intent on escaping but get stopped by Garreth out of all people catching me. I let him twirl me around only realizing after a few firm steps that he’s pushing us into the direction of what I call freedom.

‘’We are our mother's savage daughters, The ones who run barefoot, Cursing sharp stones, We are our mother's savage daughters, We will not cut our hair, We will not lower our voice.’’ The girls that have picked up the words out-sing me, leaving the Gryffindor to pull me faster towards our booth his hold on my hand firm even as mid-laughter and disbelief feeling extremely hot – enough that I’ve shed to be only in my white school shirt having only throw over a mint coloured jumper leaving for Hogsmeade in a hurry – I end up stunned at the sight of my boyfriends present.

‘’Great escapade L/N. I’d stay for a chit chat, but Lydia is waiting for me.’’ Garreth leans close to my ear from the back, still holding onto my hand as he speaks revealing his crushes name sounding smitten as he lets go. Glancing back, I watch as he eagerly disappears between the dancers as the band has picked up their instruments and have begun playing.

Turning forward with a smile as I’m happy for my fried I focus on who I’ve missed the entirety of the night, not missing the way they are holding themselves. Ominis isn’t one for crowds for obvious reasons while Sebastian…oh yeah. He’s screaming trouble with the look he is giving me.

Only for a moment I remain stunned brain going blank at the sight of how handsome my boyfriends are.

‘’You’re here!!!’’ I squeak in excitement throwing my hands in the air body already moving as I run towards them.

‘’Wha…wow wow wow Mc …’’ Sebastian warns as I dash coming to a stop by jumping into his arms, clumsily grabbing onto his shoulders squishing my face roughly into his chest hearing him groaning at the impact. Of course, he catches me, and tries to steady us. I on the other hand and practically buzzing from the aftermath, feeling his familiar large hands settle over my back.

‘’Oh, Merlin’s beard Mc, you’ve not seen them for a few hours can you stop being a love-sick puppy already?!’’ Imelda groans calling me out.

‘’Oh Captain! Your absence this morning was quite the rouse. Leaving us unsupervised. Bold.’’ Sebastian calls after her, letting me place a clumsy kiss to his jaw as he’s still somewhat battling with keeping me still, my excitement rising.

I brighten up more as Ominis hand find my own ‘’Sallow don’t!!!’’ Imelda warns attempting to climb the bench but gets pulled back by Percival who is sitting on her previous seat trying to wrestle her, but also be nice about it, but also not rouse her even more as she turns to bicker with him her shyness around him gone finally.

‘’Oh, my word you’re so handsome tonight. Extra.’’ I blur out bypassing Sebastian who keeps his hand on my back, while I move to embrace Ominis wrapping my arms around his neck, somewhat hanging of off him, feeling the way his muscles tense to support us.

‘’Ooooofff darling…’’ he chuckles letting me lull us side to side happy to be hugging him.

‘’You came just at the right time lads.’’ Natty’s voice reaches my ears ‘’What took you so long?’’

‘’YEAH! WHERE WERE YOU?’’ I shout angry at their absence, to which I make it known by pouting and glaring at Ominis first who remains unreadable while Sebastian looks amused, quirking an eyebrow my way.

‘’To be honest, we…’’

‘’SEBASTIAN!!’’ a loud and enthusiastic shout cuts through the air, the shrill voice nearly causing me an immediate headache. We all turn to a way enthusiastic 7th year, a girl dressed to the nines in all green, hair a light shade of blonde with two diamond blue eyes shining as she rushes over ‘’You finally came!!!’’

‘’Ahh, Agatha.’’ Comes Sebastian’s surprised response. It’s the way that he speaks her name hands retreating from us, and the fact that he turns his attention to her that has me sobering up. Even though the firewhiskey is doing its job tremendously well, making every second thought logical and perfectly make it make sense.

‘’My love don’t do anything unreasonable.’’ Ominis even sightless knows sometimes before I do of how I’m about to react. Or at least knows to prepare for the inevitable.

As the girl comes to a stop inquiring about whatever, her words muted as I zero in on the way she’s looking at our boyfriend with literal stars in her eyes, I move without thinking making sure to grab Ominis hand pulling him with me.

‘’…that’s what I was wondering.’’ She remains looking at Sebastian only turning to look at me after she finishes her sentence, a perfectly shaped eyebrow rising above her blue eye. In the meantime, Ominis’ other hand settles on my waist as if to hold me back – or to prepare himself to do so.

‘’Hi.’’ I greet overexaggerating with my smile, ignoring the look our brunette boyfriend is giving us as I zero in on the girl. Agatha.

‘’Am hi.’’ She awkwardly responds clearly confused with our presence.

‘’Hmm.’’ To taunt her I hum out loud narrowing my eyes slightly, keeping eye contact more than it’s necessary, only after a while turning to Sebastian who is looking at me, with bathed breath.

Wordlessly I grasp the back of his neck with my free hand, pulling him down into a kiss the move catching him of guard as our mouths clash at first. I chuckle into the kiss smoothly transitioning it into a proper kiss as I move my lips, the brunette easily following even through his hesitancy.

‘’Ah I beg your pardon, Agatha. It’s a very excitable night as you must have seen.’’ Ominis speaks up, polite as ever, still keeping his hands on me.

‘’Oh no worries. The song got us all on our feet. They’ve dragged even Sirona into it.’’

As they chuckle at that, the friendliness is too much even with the distraction of Sebastian’s hand on my cheek and his mindless devotion to showing affection in public. The man is shameless after all. Breaking apart I offer him a smile feeling rather pleased seeing his dazed expression, a tint of rose colouring his freckled cheeks.

‘’Have you finished with your ostentatious display?’’ Ominis inquires, my eyebrows furrowing as I look at how smug he’s holding himself.

‘’I know we’re speaking English right now but was that English??? That last part?’’ I blur out accepting Sebastian’s hand as he bids goodbye to the girl with an excuse I don’t quite catch as I stand starstruck whenever I hear my quieter boyfriend laugh genuinely.

‘’Don’t overthink it sweetheart. You polyglots tend to overanalyse simple words.’’ He sooths delivering the sweetest of kisses onto my forehead as I feel heat warming my cheeks. Sebastian presses himself behind my back leaning over my shoulder.

‘’That was the cutest, most raw, hot, and out there demonstration of jealousy, darling.’’ He smugly points out, Ominis’ smile not helping.

‘’Hmm not at all.’’ I deny attention briefly caught by my friends engaging into another popular song, the pub gaining energy once more, the atmosphere magical to put it bluntly ‘’It was merely a show of affection that’s all.’’ I play innocent, shaking of their hands smiling as I begin to clap to the rhythm the wizarding songs not familiar enough for me to sing them as others do.

‘’Sebastian is quite right little dove.’’ Ominis fuels on pressing himself over my back, both hands settling over my waist my clapping coming to a halt thanks to his proximity ‘’Honestly, you’re very endearing when you’re jealous.’’

Unable to help how my body reacts I feel how the blush hits my cheek not aiding my denial. I puff out my cheeks in defiance, Sebastian raised brows not undetering me.

‘’I wouldn’t use that word.’’ I shake my head crossing my arms, remaining in Ominis’ embrace even as Sebastian steps closer ‘’I would…’’

‘’Ahhhh MC!!!’’ My voice gets overpowered by Imelda’s. My friend makes her way over in between us, plastering herself over my back clumsily, the waving of the metal jug quick to make my reflexes work as I grab for it from her hands, attempting to steady her ‘’Gaunt! Get your hands of my girl.’’

Her exclamation stuns both of my boyfriends but makes me burst into giggles at how bold she is. With more strength than necessary even on unsteady feet, she pulls us a step backwards pushing Ominis’ hands away.

‘’Your girl? What game are you trying to play at Reyes?’’ Sebastian springs into action grasping my left and free hand, not achieving anything as Imelda holds me firm.

‘’No game.’’ She says confidently tapping the jug, guiding my hand along to bring it to my mouth ‘’I said you should have appreciated her more.’’ She clicks her tongue as I begin drinking butterbeer finding myself thirsty actually ‘’I’ve stolen her away from you lot. Paying too much attention to bimbos leaving this treasure right here, alone for the taking.’’

Proving that she is gutsier than usual – thank you alcohol – she grabs for the empty jug, lowering it turning my head with her other hand that’s wrapped around me. I stare at her with wide eyes ready to duck and run away, but she swiftly delivers a kiss to my left cheek. To my horror and fascination at what this evening is turning out to be she hoovers inches away from my face, flush as a tomato upkeeping the staring contest.

‘’Hey, hey!’’ Sebastian protests finally springing into action getting in between us as stunned, and very stupefied I accept Ominis’ pull of hand, as he tucks me into his side. I raise an eyebrow in question as a hand reaches for my cheek not to caress it but to begin wiping the spot where I’ve received the Slytherin girl’s kiss.

As Sebastian and Imelda begin the battle of berating trying to outdo one another, I remain focusing on Ominis who looks way to focused on the task he’s doing gently stroking my cheek. I can see how the gears in his brain are turning, mulling something over. The frown on his pretty features reveals his emotions and state of mind too, milky ocean eyes set onto one spot to my left.

‘’He…’’ a hiccup along with a burp rush up my throat before I can stop it, the action not something I do in front of anyone. Shocked I stare with wide eyes as Ominis shows his surprise as well.

‘’Oh gods…’’I grumble, ending up groaning and then whining ‘’Yahhhh, Omi I’m tiredddddd.’’ My mood shifts, the events of the night catching up even past the haziness in my mind. I throw my hands in the arm draping them over his shoulders, fully leaning into him. I giggle at his stumble but quick save as he grabs me awkwardly trying to hold on.

‘’Omfff darling…’’ he huffs ‘’You know I always love your…am…touchiness but could you…’’

‘’Oh goodness me.’’ Comes our boyfriend’s exhale. I get promptly picked as if I’m a child, Sebastian pulling me into his arms with ease ‘’Your rather naughty aren’t you.’’ He shakes his head but keeps smiling in amusement ‘’Running off to a pub, singing and dancing, drinking sweet nectar without us. Letting yourself get snatched by others.’’

I raise an eyebrow at the last part but grin nonetheless ‘’I hope you don’t expect of me to be proper at all times dear lover. I’m not that kind of a gal.’’ I shrug nonchalantly the added buzz from the butterbeer making me melt into Sebastian’s arms who holds me easily ‘’But you’re aware of that already.’’ I muse seeing his amusement eyebrows quirked looking rather pleased.

Crowing our space, Ominis looks like he is a man on a mission, not missing a beat as he brings our lips together his kiss very unlike him. Cheers erupt from my friend’s table, Ominis behaviour catching others attention as frankly he is acting more so like Sebastian than himself, taking control entirely teeth biting at my lips whenever he pleases, one hand possessively holding the nape of my neck.

‘’Only we get to see the improper parts of you, MC.’’ He speaks lowly once he parts ‘’Only we get to snatch you.’’ He delivers another hard kiss ‘’Because you’re ours.’’

‘’Correct.’’ Sebastian confirms crowding against my back, both of them shielding me from the world. But it’s wrong. They’ve got it all wrong. It’s the other way around. They are both mine as much as I’m theirs. And yet we’ve fallen into the predicament of being here because the unwanted attention delivered to my boyfriends and their obliviousness of my feelings.

Even through the haze Ominis put me under, my body heating up at their bold touches in such a public space the alcohol buzzing in my veins adds fuel to my fire. I can feel ancient magic buzzing on my fingertips. Ready to take action.

‘’Say it.’’ Ominis encourages my silence stretching, big warm hands settling on my waist, Sebastian’s holding me in place by my hips rather as he nuzzles in my hair. My face hardens at their demand always needing reassurance. They are always the ones staking claim, showing of their jealousy unabashedly.

Reaching up I grasp Ominis chin directing and tilting his head downwards, aware his pretty opal eyes aren’t meeting mine, but the gesture has his attention the possessiveness that was coming out broken into a questioning rise of an eyebrow.

It takes it less time to manoeuvre and bring my right hand up, behind Sebastian’s head slipping my fingers between his locks and pulling on them hard knowing he enjoys it much more than he’ll ever admit, making him bend lower to my shoulder.

‘’You’re forgetting yourselves boys.’’ I begin my tone cool ‘’Do you need a reminder of the past few days?! How despite your claims of devotion, your attentions seem to be split onto other gals. One might not find themselves feeling so specially anymore.’’ I end up grumbling letting my emotions get the best of me the feeling of power ready to spiral over making me surge forward crushing my lips against Ominis’s first unleashing a fraction a spark if you will.

It manifests in the kiss I think but through the haziness of my mind I’m unaware and far too gone to stop as I leave the blonde breathless spinning and grabbing Sebastian roughly by his cheeks bringing him down combating his own dominance the brunette usually competing even when it comes to kissing.

And just like that, giving them a taste of my emptions dragging them in so to speak I break apart entirely, lulling to the song. Grinning pleased with events so far, I waltz over to Natty giving her a half hug at the table, mumbling about heading out her words of safety always welcomed as I grab my coat and wave at the others not turning around or waiting for my boyfriends.

‘’Ohhh. You’re so pretty when you’re desperate.’’ I coo grinning with delight, easing my hips lower the slight wobble of Sebastian’s lips bringing so much joy its intoxicating. ‘’So pretty.’’ I repeat in a whisper running my hands over his biceps not in the slightest bothered over the light layer of sweat coating his skin as I run my lips and tongue over his neck tasting the slight saltiness, settling on his left side proceeding to leave blooming marks on his freckled skin.

Curiously I peek at our quiet boyfriend sitting on the other end of the couch, not letting out a sound, usually tidy blonde hair a wicked mess of strands, suiting him more-so than the properness with which he holds himself by. The rest of his clothes are gone, long milky legs bent, lithe body shuddering but not from cold oh no.

The only accessory is my tie adoring his wrists holding them together. Long slender fingers are wrapped delicately around his wand, as it sets out pulses of red frequenter than a human’s heartbeat. His usually tilted head is upright, opal galaxy eyes set towards us. The blush on his cheeks runs down his neck and chest, only a faint mark on his collarbone beginning to make an appearance. I’ll have to rectify that later our introduction short lived.

I grin with delight seeing him shifting subtly, his patience giving as seconds go by. Hmmm so close, he’s so close to giving in.

‘’Ughhhh.’’ Sebastian moans as I circle my hips, hands lifting of the couch for a moment, catching himself in the action fingers curling into fists after.

‘’Hmm that was a close one.’’ I wonder out loud, watching as he’s recollecting himself trying to hold back stretching out my time to rest my aching thighs ‘’Are you still with me, love?’’

He immediately nods but keeps his eyes closed, body in the beginning stage of the trembles. To be fair we’ve been going at it for a while my edging harsh to be frank specially for Sebastian who is the one with the shortest fuse between the three of us.

‘’My sweet, sweet Sebastian.’’ I sing acting merciful by lifting my hips a little, and dropping back onto him, slipping my arms around his neck cupping the back of his head petting his soft brown tangled mess of hair. I focus on the torture that is taking my sweet time in lowering and rising but only halfway the movement diabolical if I do say so myself.

And not only for him! Our usually frantic chase towards release has been halted entirely with great patience the pace I’ve settled on effective in its agonizing way. Biting onto my lower lip from glee I observe how his eyebrows furrow, expression twisting, muscles tensing as the trembling hasn’t subdued, the knuckles on his hands white resting near his thighs on the couch.

Slowing to a stop again he whines out loud, panting as he opens his eyes. Those pretty brown eyes of his settle over my smirking lips, expression dazed.

‘’Eyes on me handsome.’’ I encourage gently cupping his cheek, Sebastian doing so immediately as his face changes into one of pleading. Desperation. ‘’There he is.’’ I lean close giving him bunny kisses as I’ve learned they are called gently rubbing my nose side to side with his.

I shift my hand to take a hold of his chin readjusting my bent knees and legs on the couch, running my other hand down his front as I bring our mouths together happily, giving in only for a moment letting him guide us at one point.

The suave, flirt that he naturally is has been erased this evening as I have a putty boyfriend in my hands, moaning and groaning at the swipe of a tongue, his gasps and whimpers rising in tone once my hand that slid down his chest reaches the base of his hardness, feeling where we are connected. Even the thought of it seems erotic, causing me to clench around him automatically pretty brown eyes pleading me silently, the trembles endearing.

‘’Tell me how good this feels.’’

He visibly gulps as I slide my right hand onto the back of his head, grasping his hair pulling his head back as I raise until only the head of his cock rests inside me. I place my left hand on his throat not applying pressure but keeping it there as a reminder.

‘’So good…’’ he’s trying so hard to hold himself together ‘’…it’s so…aahhh g-good…’’ I lick over my lower lip dropping lower at an antagonizing slow pace ‘’Aaaaaa f-fuck…’’ he’s a stuttering mess is what he is.

‘’Is it?’’ I tease tapping the fingers on my left hand over to his shoulder, bicep, forearm, and to his trembling hand ‘’Don’t tell me you’re close, darling.’’

Prying his hand open his eyes remain on me as I give him a predatory look, bringing our now joined hands upwards directing his hand onto my hip, only needing to reach over albeit awkwardly for him to get the message his other hand following suit, the rule of keeping his hands to himself ended.

‘’Are you close??’’ I tilt my head for effect, watching as he hesitates the shudders running through him telling enough.

He ends up nodding furiously fingers digging into my skin to which I let go of his head tsking. I raise my hand up between us moving my pointing finger left and right ‘’I gave you permission to touch. Not to grip or mark me.’’ My tone lowers ‘’I’ve been nice to you. Patient. Merciful. But some things…’’ as I talk, I let my fingers run over his chest sending a glance at Ominis who has shifted legs dropped against the backrest in defeat, wand still pulsing eyes hooded and fixated on us ‘’…oh. Some things do get under my skin.’’

And just like that my mood darkens. At the hint of disobedience and the ridiculous notion of them having admirers who aren’t getting the gist that they are taken.

Wordlessly I grab Sebastian by the shoulders, digging my nails into skin his hiss low but loud in the silence of the Room of Requirement, the newly transfigured couch finally put to good use.

With a clenched jaw and new determination, a plan set in mind; game time is over. I begin to raise and fall, keeping it basic at the start as I build a rhythm. And for the first time I go against the whole ‘people pleasing’ tendency and keep the pace how I like it, fully knowing Sebastian is one for action and friction.

And yet this time around he has no choice or word in the matter. Since they’ve apparated us here from Hogsmeade thinking the night will turn into their favour things have turned upside down. Jealousy is a green-eyed monster that lingers like a pesky bee relentless in its pursuit.

‘’Ahhhhh…’’ I groan in delight finding the friction, the feeling of him inside me filling me up so satisfying, that I throw my head back closing my eyes for a moment as he squeaks at, I’m sure a painful hold from me. I switch up the pace rolling my hips like belly dancers do in my own kind of way, changing the tempo spreading my legs wider.

‘’F-fuck, MC…’’ he moans strong robust hands slipping behind my back to support me. I can feel him begin to lean forward, to which I snap back to attention, my knees proving my only anchoring point as I push against him.

The move takes him by surprise as he falls back ‘’Just imagine what would all those girls in their pretty skirts, bows in their perfectly styled hair, and fluttering eyes, rosy cheeks, think of the best dueller of Hogwarts, the unbeatable beater, the troublemaker of Slytherin at the mercy of me.’’ I all but growl the last part getting in his face, still moving my hips getting closer to him physically earning some friction against my clit against his lower belly ‘’They must be over the moon with their silly thoughts of having a strong man to take care of them, protect them. Have the perfect boyfriend.’’ I chuckle darkly ‘’They couldn’t handle the reality of you being such a good boy for me, groaning and whimpering for my touches. My pretty boy putty in my hands letting me use you however I please.’’

I raise an eyebrow in question admiring how desperately he’s trying to keep it together my words having a big effect ‘’Ah ffffuck…’’ I mewl fingers dragging down his chest for sure leaving marks ‘’Fuck you feel gooooddd…’’ I purr the built up of an orgasm in sight, the burn in my thighs causing me to temporary grind my teeth as I push through the pleasure and spiking pain.

He doesn’t seem to be minding my rougher treatment judging by the broken moans parting his glossy lips ‘’Sebastian.’’ I whisper leaning closer his eyes not leaving my own ‘’You’re mine.’’

I ground my hips against him harder than its necessary, my frustrations getting the better of me ‘’Your both mine.’’ I lean against the brunette boy turning to Ominis ‘’Ominis.’’ I call for him, the ache in my thigs beginning to present a problem the further I ride Sebastian.

Our blind boyfriend obligates eagerly moving stiffly forward, lowering his hands as he scootches closer ‘’Ominis my love.’’ I whisper and with shaky hands reach to untie the tie, letting him free not minding Sebastian’s hands as they glide over my skin to my front fingers quick to begin rolling my nipples, the added stimulation perfect.

Giving him a glance, I offer a smirk reaching for our poor neglected boyfriend who eagerly moves his right hand finding it’s place over my back, left hand holding his wand on the backrest.

‘’Kiss me.’’ I breathe out watching as the blond like a man possessed raises onto one foot, his lips finding my own with spectacular precision despite our rocking. It’s a clumsy kiss from my part I’ll admit, my focus thorn thanks to the sounds Sebastian is providing, along with his touches and the feel of him.

Ominis with the patience of a saint keeps the kiss going stepping behind me at one point, the burn in my thighs starting to hurt to the point of it being hard to ignore.

‘’I’m not going to last…MC…please…love of my life…’’ Sebastian’s slurred words have us parting ways, as I push the last bit of energy, I have into hardening the pace into the one we both love, Sebastian readjusting us sliding forward and begins to thrust taking most of the strain of me.

‘’Ah Seb…Seb…Seb…’’ I cry my body wanting to curl up desperately, tingles rising everywhere. Along with that it starts to feel hot, so melting hot and suffocating but in the best way possible both my boys’ anchors to keep me tethered to earth in a way, while at the same time absolutely destroying me, as Ominis leans over one hand sliding in between us his touch against my clit electrifying as my mind begins to shut down.

Blindly reaching behind me I successfully hold onto Ominis that is ever so accommodating his front pressing against my damp back, holding me upright as the explosion of the long-awaited orgasm washes over, leaving tingles and sparkles in its wake the serotonin that floods my whole being on another level.

It always is with them.

I smile at the sweet gentle kisses being trailed over my shoulder, the closeness proving the added temperature something I don’t usually mind. I reopen my eyes that have shut automatically, giving a look to Sebastian who lies limp against the couch. He’s in a similar state floating in his world, eyes half closed as he admires from his end thumbs rubbing circles into my thighs the trembles involuntarily as they still run through me.

Looking down a shiver runs down my spine and not only due to Ominis’s ministrations, hands exploratory in the sweetest manner. We’re still connected with Sebastian, the thought still arousing, the clenching involuntary bringing our troublemaker of a boyfriend back to life as he hisses in protest due to oversensitivity.

‘’Oh darling…’’ he begins trying to shift but gets stopped by my hands as I plant them on him pecks, pretty brown eyes gracing me again. I wordlessly lean forward observing him, the roundness of his features, freckles that dot his skin painting galaxies. He’s irresistible, in the simple way he smiles, compliments always at the ready coming from his heart. He is genuine in the way he loves someone – wholeheartedly ready to burn the entire world down if needed.

He doesn’t say anything matching me in my observation’s eyes not straying from my features. He does get distracted once I capture Ominis’ wandless right hand, guiding it upwards moving away enough to give Sebastian a hint of what I want.

Ominis breathing pattern changes as he’s waiting for what’s coming next. He trembles subtly, as Sebastian takes two of Ominis fingers into his mouth and starts to suck on them. The same two fingers that have brought me to my release.

‘’Other girlies can want you all they want. They can continue fluttering their eyes at you, or even lift their skirts…’’ I give him a pointed look as Ominis draws his fingers out, to which I deliver a gentle peck on top of his knuckles, not minding his saliva slick digits as I intertwine our hands enjoying his hug not missing his hardness against my back ‘’…but remember Sebastian…’’ I drawl his name out sensually, running my thumb over his lower lip as I close the distance encompassing his focus onto me ‘’…none of them can have you.’’ I press a peck onto his nose a whine rising from his throat ‘’You’re mine.’’

I pause once more to let my words settle ‘’Y-yours.’’ He ends up speaking without needing any prompts, my tongue darting out to lick my lower lip his eyes not missing it.

‘’Whose?’’

‘’Yours.’’ He repeats sounding surer ‘’Yours MC.’’ At my name being spoken in such a sweet manner I close the distance, keeping the kiss light but meaningful, Sebastian trying to rush it. I’m sure it’s to show his emotions, actions after all speak louder than words. I don’t let him though, biting his lower lip preventing him from taking control.

‘’Mine.’’ I confirm leaning against Ominis that has been silent tonight so far, and beyond calm ‘’And you my beloved…’’ I hum happily attempting to push myself up my legs not cooperating as I remain seated, Sebastian grunting as we’re still connected.

‘’Need a hand, MC?’’ he asks but proceeds to bend down, letting me wrap my arm around his shoulders, his hands secure wand finding its way into my hand as he flawlessly takes a hold and begins lifting me, Sebastian’s cum leaking from me a familiar sensation that I’ve gotten used to ‘’Ah there we go.’’ Confidently Ominis says pleased not at all preoccupied with the fact that he so easily trusted me with his wand.

‘’Hmmm so helpful and eager.’’ I tease dipping my head below his jaw, pressing slow kisses there savouring his clean and unmarked skin ‘’And so strong.’’ I compliment using his own wand to trace it down his other shoulder and arm as he takes a step back, chest getting flushed anew ‘’So tolerant and composed.’’ I continue with the compliments sending a glance behind him watching as the doors to my bedroom opens.

It appeared at the beginning of the year, my train of thoughts leading me to assume it accommodated me because I’ve spent to much time napping and falling asleep on the couch. That somewhat innocent thought proved wrong as I’ve not soon after finally revealed the room to my boyfriends, the bedroom providing another part of usefulness the room obviously knowing something before I was even aware of it myself. Magic is truly wonderful.

I drop my right hand over to my knee prompting him to stretch his fingers out, not cruel in denying my partner his tool of sight as I put his wand back between his fingers the pulses coming immediately back to life ‘’Handsome, handsome Ominis.’’ I sigh dreamily caressing his cheek admiring the constellations of birthmarks on his chest and face blank eyes seemingly looking right back at me ‘’Shall we get more comfortable, beloved? You’ve already proven your strength enough times.’’ I muse my heart fluttering at the smirk he gives memoires quickly playing in mind.

‘’As you wish, my heart.’’ He speaks relaxed proceeding to turn around and walk. I give a glance at a spent Sebastian that looks content half lying on the couch. I give him a come hitter motion sending him a wink, before he disappears from my sight Ominis reaching the bedroom in no time the dimly lit and mostly green and black themed room a perfect ambiance. Clearly not only my influence.

‘’You’ve waited for so long haven’t you.’’ I begin to play even pouting as I cling onto my boyfriend, letting him climb onto the queen-sized bed not bothering with the covers as he lays me in the middle of it manoeuvring himself between my legs. His member barely brushes again me, as he settles down keeping his weight on his elbows body as close to mine as he can, both hands cupping my face my smile instantaneous, as he begins touching and exploring my face his touch utmost gentle.

‘’With the beautiful sounds the two of you kept making, it was entirely worth it.’’ He happily replies, one hand going over the roundness of my cheek, the other letting his fingers trace my lips that remain in a smile.

‘’Did we? I’d rather pin this on Sebastian this evening. He was the singer and star of the show.’’ I spare a glance up at our boyfriend that is making his way closer to the bed, blush covering his cheeks, his member at half hardness.

‘’A poet of pretty sounds.’’ Ominis confirms hands once more cupping my cheeks as he looks towards Sebastian, feeling him more so than seeing him as he’s once more wandless. The faith he puts into the two of us, letting go of his wand so many times being so comfortable too is the testament of his love. It aways gives me the good type of flutters in my stomach.

‘’Divine.’’ I sing happily reaching my hand out, Sebastian gladly accepting it as he less gracefully sits on the bed, Ominis in the meantime preoccupying himself with leaving kisses on my cheek, progressing lower, hips lulling at random. Not enough to reprimand him yet.

‘’You, okay??’’ I softly inquire looking over the brunette that has been on the quieter side, prettily marked up, my handiwork still blooming over his flushed skin.

‘’Divine.’’ He teases and settles the spike of worry as he lies next to us, not touching but merely hoovering close, hands twisting around my own as I hiss in surprise Ominis teeth clamping around my left nipple.

‘’What was that for?’’ I pout at our sightless lover his nimble fingers tracing up and down my heated and flushed shin, the man clearly eager to proceed with things.

‘’Merely self-indulgence, beloved.’’ He quips the smirk not escaping me. With a tender yet firm touch I cup his chin with the pads of my fingers stopping his progression all together capturing his attention the surprise showing on his face.

‘’And who allowed you to be so bold?’’ I state running my thumb over his slightly dry lower lip while Sebastian continues holding my hand, scotching closer to us. ‘’Bertha?’’ my disapproval is evident in the way I say her name.

The look of shook on Ominis face says it all his sputtering wild in contrast to his always composed self, while Sebastian freezes.

‘’Wha…darling…Mc, that’s preposterous! Not to mention highly inappropriate of you to suggest anyone else…specially like this…you know I’m entirely devoted to you…that’s…oh Merlin, how can you…’’ its clear that he’s rushing to get out his stream of thoughts and at the same time trying to process everything.

Pulling my hand away from him he flinches at the abrupt action. I regain his focus and ease his anxiety - which didn’t go past me by the tensing of his body – by cupping the back of his head steadying him, preventing my beloved Ominis to put distance between us as I crush our lips together harder than it’s necessary, even going as far as to bite his lower lip his whines music to my ears. I reserve these sorts of ministrations for Sebastian who is the cheekiest of the two and needs to be ‘disciplined’ the nips only mellow warnings. Which of course he loves and sometimes is all to eager for, bruised lips not an issue.

To my astonishment I’m left encouraged by the way Ominis gives in his control entirely, letting me guide him however I please, not even questioning the way I tilt his head and switch the pace of our kiss. But alas as the kiss picks up, getting heated as I let my tongue dart out to taste him, it takes all of the willpower I can muster to break apart, my hurried breathing matching my lovers. Observing him as I catch my breath, he looks dazed, flushed cheeks always a good look on him the collectiveness he holds himself always under, only broken for us to see.

‘’Don’t act so scandalized, darling.’’ I growl pecking his lips to which I drop back onto the pillow my hands finding themselves on his chest ‘’You’re not yet forgiven.’’ I frown watching as his expression morphs into disorientation ‘’I’m frankly let down by the way you’re portraying yourself beloved Ominis.’’ I tsk in disapproval his head lowering as he frowns ‘’Spewing endless romance in my ear, promising forever and then setting up ‘dates’ and promising help to suddenly relevant female companions.’’

‘’Now now, Mc, you know you are twisting my words. You are well aware I’ve no wish in participation in any…’’

As I hold him at arm’s length, having forced him to sort of hoover over me with strength I didn’t know I’ve had I raise into a sitting position immediately my blood boiling, two fingers finding their way into his mouth, the choking noise un-fazing me as it comes from surprise ‘’Suck my fingers.’’ I instruct cooly his lips wrapping around my two fingers immediately, conflict still written over his expression.

‘’I’m not one for excuses, am I?’’ I ask glancing at Sebastian who with a mere nod understands what I’m implying and is up on his knee’s settling himself behind me, legs landing on either side of my own ‘’And your defiance, even if I know you’ve expressed yourself wrongly is incorrectly placed Ominis.’’ I begin to prod at his tongue that keeps daring over my digit’s ‘’You’ve both in the wrong.’’ I place my free hand onto Sebastian’s thigh and dig my nails into his flesh without putting pressure – yet.

‘’So, given your previous babbling words currently not being your strong suit or thinking…’’ I pause for effect his eyes furrowing as he gives in further hands set over my bent knees warm, expression softening ‘’…let’s put that pretty mouth and tongue to good use hm?’’ pulling my fingers out, Ominis the devil licks his lips but follows blindly – well literally – as I grasp his messy blond hair and guide his head lower, Ominis familiar with this position as he readjust on the bed, finding his way lower on his own. He doesn’t waste time or words, no sassy remark brewing. He just dives in, my breath hitching at the first kitten lick he delivers, my entire body shuddering.

‘’So pretty.’’ Sebastian comments in a low tone, hocking his chin over my shoulder enjoying the sight of our boyfriend between my thighs as much as I am, along with his touches his tongue by now tasting Sebastian’s cum.

‘’He loves it don’t you Omi?’’ I soften in my approach, beginning to brush his hair back the moans he lets out as if being delighted by the taste a massive turn on, the need to have him undone always a desire of mine ‘’Loves the taste of us.’’ I lick over my lips as the blond moans louder in confirmation, Sebastian suddenly rutting against me prompting me to dig my nails deeper.

‘’Ah sorry, Mc, I can’t help it.’’ He literally whines hands that have settled over my biceps, slipping around me as if to hold me still when he’s the one that’s already losing it, leaking anew behind my back, standing hot as he’s practically glued onto me.

‘’You can, and you will.’’ I run my nails till his knee leaving marks behind, my whole-body twitching at the way Ominis twists his tongue, my hands flying to his hair simultaneously as I hold him in place prompting him to double down on his efforts. It has me gasping for air, twitching thanks to the zaps running through me, pleasure buzzing and rising the more relentlessly he pays me attention not even coming up for air.

‘’Ah, ah, ah Omiiiii…’’ I cry out pathetically, heat hitting me tenfold thanks to the slurping noises that arise the absolute filthiness of his actions addicting.

‘’You both look and sound so fucking good.’’ Sebastian compliments keeping still as instructed, choosing to litter kisses over my neck and under my jaw, keeping it civil. I think it’s a form of mercy from his side given Ominis is destroying me, my legs beginning to shake uncontrollably as the need to cum raises, two fingers entering me only raising the stakes higher. The feel of them both surrounding me their scents filling my nose and senses, touches grounding has sanity taking a back seat, the need to have control spilling through my fingers, as they begin to topple my world over.

Unlike usually having free reign to flail as much as I need to, Sebastian holds me firmly against him even hocking his feet over my calves grounding me further leaving me to Ominis to devour. And devour does he, bringing a pleasant but sparkly wave to wash over me, like a cool blanket soothing my shaky limbs that still have a mind of their own even once I’m startled from the brief haze by lips pecking my lips.

Blinking my eyes open I catch as Ominis is directing his attention to a silent Sebastian their lips and tongues locked. In any other situation I’d be happily watching their display the way that our brunette boyfriend licks at Ominis’ chin even. It’s addictive the two of them together, seeing how they fit so well together.

Reaching between us, Ominis breaks away with a hiss of surprise as my fingers wrap around his hot and leaking cock, the pressure I apply a bit mean, but he deserves it, quick to part ways head hung down arms shaky as he holds himself upwards.

‘’Oh. Shame.’’ I tut running my left hand down his lighter skin, marks standing out immediately ‘’But bad boys don’t deserve rewards. Or privileges as such.’’ To make my point I tighten my hold on the base of his manhood, Ominis falling onto his elbows face being buried between my breasts, Sebastian’s arms reaching out to catch our sightless boyfriend, as I begin moving my hand torturously slow over him.

‘’Not ones that flirt with other girls. Give into silly ideas, when up until now they were reclusive.’’ I grab the back of Ominis blond hair bringing his head up, his eyes half open as I hover close ‘’You’re no foolish man beloved. Her intentions aren’t pure.’’ I lean in, to bite onto his lower lip, ignoring the whine that trembles out of his throat ‘’To give so much attention…’’ I sigh deeply as he readjusts his arms on either side of us ‘’You are mine.’’ I glare at him, feeling that with a snap of a finger I could set the world on fire ‘’You’ve been mine the moment your pretty lips touched mine.’’ I let go of his manhood letting my thumb run over his lower lips watching his tongue dart out tasting himself.

‘’You’ve belonged to me since our first meeting in front of the Undercroft.’’ I whisper rising his head watching as his Adams apple bops, my lips kissing first there ‘’Despite your stubbornness and denial you’ve always been meant to be here.’’ I pause as I suck a mark into his neck knowing I can’t hold back forever but am intent on marking both of them more than its necessary ‘’Right here. Between my legs, beloved.’’ I smirk in satisfaction left hand this time taking a hold of him his hips jerking forward causing me to shush him as if he’s a frightened animal.

‘’A proper gentleman raised, pristine and bloody perfect huh?’’ I taunt guiding the head of his dick to my entrance sliding it up and down, loving every sound that comes from both as Sebastian has always been vocal ‘’To think I’d have you be so obedient in my arms, eager to lick away another man’s cum, tasting your own. eagerly so doing anything I wish for. Oh, how scandalous.’’ I laugh watching in delight as a new flush raises over his constellation filled skin, the tremble in his lips adorable.

‘’Absolutely devious.’’ I whisper positioning him at my entrance, pulling him flush against me a gentle nudge oh my hand, getting him going as he begins entering me ‘’Ah there we go.’’ I encourage leaning my head back against Sebastian my muscles singing in relief as I’ve unconsciously held myself taunt this entire time.

‘’Feels good?’’ Sebastian asks politely pressing a kiss to my temple his presence welcomed, even if he’s radiating heat basically.

‘’Meant for me.’’ I sigh happily, finding Sebastian’s hand in the meantime guiding it over to Ominis’ chest where his heart is ‘’Both of you. My boys.’’

Ominis jerks his hips I’m sure involuntary. He’s not used to needing to hold himself back and pay to my whims to much – no let me rephrase that. He has not been on the receiving end of my whims as much.

‘’Yours.’’ Ominis finally finds his voice eyes transfixed onto me as if he can see right through me, his brows twisted as he looks pleadingly but at the same time sorry ‘’Yours Mc. I’m yours. Yours only, okay? We are yours.’’ He rambles rushing his words this time around cupping my cheeks.

I can see he wants to say so much more something plaguing him which is holding him back. That’s why I wrap my legs around his thighs both of us groaning in relief as he sinks deeper, stretching me further as he’s slightly longer than Sebastian our brunette lover girthier in size.

‘’Only mine.’’ I agree letting go of the ‘reigns’ for now, holding onto Sebastian as Ominis begins a rhythm savouring our contact in a sense, rolling his hips in an artful manner. It’s a joke we always fool around with Sebastian at how gracious Ominis is even in bed, taking things to another levels unlike the two of us being clumsy ogres most of the time.

‘’Ahhhhhhh…’’ I mewl as he shifts on his knees changing the angle, the sneaky snake – it’s an affectionate term – changing things up as he stops playing around, his skin hitting against mine firmer. By distracting me the devilish man dives in for a kiss, hungry in his need to gain some control.

The cheekiness of his actions has me giggling even into his display of passion.

‘’Oh, mercy me. That laughter is not as carefree as it sounds.’’ Sebastian taunts his hands finding their way onto my breasts to kneed them readjusting us accordingly to Ominis as he stands on his knees looming over us, a moment of respite enabling me to catch my breath.

‘’You wound me, dove.’’ Ominis declares hands exploring the outside of my legs grasping my knee’s the muscles of my calves.

‘’It would take a lot more effort and intent to wound you, beloved. We all know your words are empty.’’ I grin cockily not even letting out a sound as he grips the back of my knees and raises my legs bending me in half ‘’Hmm, but a man fulfilling his promises…that is something I’ve always valued.’’

He snorts at that a mischievous smirk drawing itself upon his lips ‘’Need to prove and show you, how much I love you.’’ As if to prove his point he thrust all of the sudden, the quickness and roughness catching me of guard, Sebastian’s hold once more capturing me ‘’How much, I appreciate you. How much you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.’’ With each sentence he pulls out and thrust back in, his movements calculated and precise the strength he’s using something new.

‘’Not enough.’’ I muse rising an eyebrow ‘’Given I had to remind you of your place.’’ I bite back Ominis getting serious, the cushions of his slender fingers digging into my flesh. He leans forward bending me further so, the position nothing new but still somewhat challenging as I keep myself composed despite the different type of pressure, he’s putting me under.

‘’My place has been carved into you dove.’’ The innuendo and lightness of his tone has me smirking wildly this man truly making me crazy and always for new different reasons.

Without needing further instructions or permission, Ominis with animalistic strength to call it lightly takes charge, hips fluid and firm as he starts fucking me properly. His pace is unrelenting, remarkable as if he is a musician the tempo not missing a beat or faltering.

Its rather a lot to take in specially after cumming twice already. My thirst for both of my boyfriend is a cup never full but by the gods this is taking everything out of me. For once I’m grateful to be held down as I am because I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise. I give in easily with letting my mouth run free, all kinds of noises spurring both of them on, evident in the way Sebastian has been rutting against me, Ominis pretty lips turning into a cocky smirk if only for a moment.

The wave of a rather thunderous orgasm rumbles to life from 0 to 100 taking my breath away. I go with the current of it thought, trembling convulsing letting it overtake every corner of my brain with the thoughts of my boys, Ominis touches firm and controlled, Sebastian’s kisses and words of praise clouding my mind deliciously so.

I barely feel but feel it nonetheless the way Ominis begins to stumble his confidence and persona of steel giving out as his always controlled expression breaks into one of want, and despair breath escaping him as well as his chest raises and falls quickly. And yet he never stops moving.

My world falls apart in quick progression once fingers come in contact with my throbbing clit the extra touch unexpected that words fail me, as I’m being hurdled over the edge the waves of pleasure not as intense as it seemed to be at first but rather pleasant and long-lasting leaving me disoriented, even with Ominis cumming and lying down on top of me again breathing raged, skin sweaty and warm to the touch.

I try blinking away the fuzziness in my sight, tired arms barely able to raise as I push his hair from his eyes knowing he dislikes the feeling of it. It’s hard to gather my mind at first as I’m startled by Sebastian’s kisses over my jaw, the area feeling ticklish making me twist in his hold the giggles he lets out adoring as he holds the both of us. He’s still a furnace behind me.

‘’I gotta admit…’’ I begin my voice coming out as if I’ve woken from a nap ‘’…you are very comfortable to rest on.’’

‘’Firm and cuddly.’’ Sebastian confirms making me hum as he delivers an obnoxiously loud kiss to my cheek making me grimace but with a smile ‘’What? Don’t tell me you’ve had your full of affection for the day.’’

Looking up right to see him peek at me he spares me a brilliant smile as I admire his features, pretty eyes full of sparks of life in the darkness of the room ‘’I could never have enough of you.’’

Excitedly he leans in meeting me halfway in the chase kiss he initiates, Ominis in the meantime groaning as I move to get more comfortable probably dislodging him enough to protest.

‘’I for one don’t find you that comfortable, Sebastian.’’ Our blonde boyfriend comments having captured our attention. He leans up giving a sweet kiss to my cheek his right hand moving around the side of the bed, prompting Sebastian to move over in search for our boyfriends mysteriously disappeared wand.

‘’Hobwash.’’ I point out even as he separates himself from me, pulling out the mess between my legs not feeling pleasant as my body is lowering in temperature thanks to the seizure of our activities ‘’You love it as much as I do. Cuddling is the best cure for anything and everything. Evidently in you two sleeping together at the dorms so you cannot deny it beloved.’’ I cheerfully announce letting Ominis bring my legs together, expectantly reaching out his hand.

Glancing up it’s as if they’ve telepathically talked as Sebastian comes up with Ominis’ wand, mine appearing in his hand as well to my surprise as I lie against the bed on my own.

‘’Don’t need to fight over me love’s there’s plenty of me to go around.’’ Sebastian cockily fires back, casting a cleaning spell. It not being the same as taking a shower or a bath but its proficient in its nature as it does the job to remove the mess.

‘’Hm I’d be careful about those words.’’ Ominis hums in thought his wand pulsing red, hand landing to rest over my left tight as Sebastian proceeds to clean him as well.

‘’That’s why you got in trouble in the first-place you oaf.’’ I grumble arms that I’ve had outstretched above me against the cool sheets, grasping a pillow which I fling at the brunette, rolling onto my front intent on crawling up the bed.

‘’Oh no you don’t.’’ Sebastian is quick to pounce hands splayed over my back as he pushes me flat onto the bed ‘’No running away sweetheart!’’ boyishly he exclaims ‘’Come Ominis hold her steady.’’ He encourages my curiosity making me turn to an unfazed Ominis who proceeds to move up the bed untucking the covers ‘’Ominis!!!’’

‘’How are you so lively Sebastian, it’s around 4 in the morning.’’ He complains looking towards us incredulously ‘’Merlin’s beard. You’d think after all that happened, you’d take it easier.’’

I agree with him on that, attempting to get up to get under the covers myself but Sebastian has other plans suddenly climbing over me keeping his weight half of me, pressing me into the bed, nonetheless.

‘’I am! I’m preventing our little dove from escaping.’’ He counters quite roughly moving and pushing me towards the centre of the bed once more, successful in the way he pulls the covers from underneath me, settling us down way to eagerly as he plasters himself onto my now right side having flipped me over, Ominis slightly cooler touch finding my left hand first.

‘’I wasn’t going to escape.’’ I whine in defeat turning to him ‘’I was going to settle down too.’’ I give him a look as his cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink ‘’You really are trouble, Seb.’’ I sigh sounding defeated but offer a reassuring smile as he relaxes resting his cheek against my shoulder, pressing himself as close as he can comfort a bit on the downside which I’m not really complaining about having gotten used to him hogging up all the space. He is an affectionate man I’ve learned it the hard way.

‘’Not always.’’ He defends himself to which I give a kiss onto the top of his head looking over to Ominis that remains rather civil, the distance he has put between us for my sake. I’ve learned to read his micro expressions.

‘’That is correct. Sometimes Ominis is a fool to.’’ I tease pulling onto his hand, watching as he gasps dramatically giving me a stern look all the while scotching closer.

‘’Such vile name calling Mc. I may be a bit of a knobhead sometimes, but a fool is not a word to describe me with.’’ He’s quick to retort, arm finding its way over Sebastian over me.

‘’A tosser then.’’ Sebastian quips to which I deliver a gentle tap on his head.

‘’A man overtaken with certain emotions that are hard to contain.’’ I narrow my eyes staring at the ceiling of the room, magic having painted it in green and blue shades, gold drawn constellations prettily stretched across the entirety of the ceiling.

‘’Love is dangerous.’’ Sebastian mumbles his agreement having stopped fidgeting.

‘’Brings men to their knees.’’ Ominis adds sighing, tiredness catching up to him.

‘’Brings men to do foolish things.’’ I smile taking my boys in, letting myself feel how warm they are how their holds are protective yet tender ‘’Turns logic into madness.’’ I continue running my hand over Sebastian’s back who is on the verge of sleep, Ominis not faring better as I scratch his scalp just the way he likes ‘’Has innocent gestures be seen through an extreme lens of the green-eyed monster.’’ I sigh to myself peeking at the blooming marks I’ve left all over them, already hearing their complaints in my mind about them in a few hours.

Good. They will serve as a reminder of this night. And remind them that their jealousy even though petty at times and thrown around like tantrums don’t compare to my own emotions. I’ve gone soft tonight compared to what I’d do with a completely sober mind. The buzz of bravery thanks to the fire whiskey had me acting instead of biding time.

But there’s always tomorrow as they say.

And with these two knuckleheads I’m sure they won’t mind a replay.

After all. They are mine. My boys.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #hogwarts legacy ominis

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coeluvr · 11 months ago

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You're so wonderfully devious. Your IF is so well written. I've played through it once several months ago, lost track of it, then found it again 🤗 but seriously, the complex emotions you pull out of me is what makes me keep coming back.

There's no time to not grieve for the MC. And your time jumps make it so no matter how much time has passed for MC, we don't get that relief. It makes me wonder if the MC feels that way all the time for the last 9 years if the grief we experience is just as intense. So I absolutely adore how you give MCs the ability to name a journal Alistair and to have a tattoo to keep them with you.

I don't know what to do with Rosea. I think the only way to hurt Luceris is by hurting the ones they love, Lancelot and Helios. But then this cycle of revenge continues and warps, and it's this massive spiders web because when you hurt Lancelot and Helios, then you hurt Farah, Vincent, and Hunter. It makes even more people want to put a stop to MC's machinations.

I know we're going to see it in writing, but the generational guilt on these kids [cause fuck they are basically still kids] heads is crushing.

The adults trying to alleviate guilt by saying "Mc is protected as consort" and has the "freedom to do what they want" is a poor consolation prize. They can't get rid of how they were complicit in MCs trauma.

Somehow, you have me litterally insane, tinfoil hat and all, do you play a kind MC so everyone can see how unhinged Luceris idea was? Because I'd love to play this game as quiet and kind MC, one who's forgive and try to move on, but when MCs twin died, I became just as crazy as Luceris. Now I have to be okay with the fact that I'm playing the long game of revenge and whatever that looks like.

Anyway, thank you for your work. It's amazing and I can't wait to see what happens next.

My toxic trait is I like being called evil or devious or anything insane. 🥰 Thank you for your kind words! 💗

Honestly, the time jumps do serve that purpose. Mainly because I think MC gets a little better each time jump but then something happens and it brings back what they felt that night in Vesphire.

For example, the time jump to meeting Fadiya is kind of supposed to be like "well at least someone wants to be friends with our baby" and that feeling is kind of hopeful, at least to me. With the 1st short story, I wanted to cement that feeling since it's like "world against MC but this little kid is here!!" and again it's hopeful. Chapter 2 is softer too with Fadiya, there isn't much angst until the very end where it's like "ah right, shit still sucks." and a part of the healing that the player might have felt just dies lol.

Chapter 3 is kind of different but technically MC is doing "better" or well coping better so there has been some progress on their part albeit it can be unhealthy.

I've gotten the "Oh this is kinda rushed" comment a few times but I don't think I could've taken these first few chapters more slowly since it is supposed to be kind of like a blur to MC. In my head, chapter 3 is when things are more slow for them but now they're leaving on a trip so...

I think revenge (that isn't like "get power throw him into jail") will always come with the loss of people. The only reason Luceris didn't lose people is because he didn't really have anyone to lose except for Lancelot and we all know how that's going. (Ikram doesn't count, if she refused he could just get another military general and been like okay. Don't be friends with your boss people. /j)

A Luceris that had Farah wouldn't have done that ever because she would have left him so yeah! It's normal to be stuck between what to do when you have people you care about who actually have somewhat of a normal moral compass.

Easiest way is to simply not have anyone (unless they're 100% in love with you and would throw away all their morals just for you ofc) and well maybe I can help with that! 🤭

The adults are insane and the kids are burdened with the problems that their parents are to blame for. I love the whole "burdened by the sins of your parents" trope. ✨️

God this got a bit too long lmao 😭 it was fun discussing some of the points. 🤝

#coe answers #coaaf if: mc #coaaf if: luceris #crown of ashes and flames #coaaf #diebytheshield

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blossom-hwa · 1 year ago

Text

Worn-Out Soles [3] | b.c

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au warnings: kidnapping, injury, death word count: 16.8k notes: — this is a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses :) inspiration taken from the original fairy tale, the Barbie movie, and the retelling by Jessica Day George, Princess of the Midnight Ball. — mc in this story has multiple sisters as befitting the original fairy tale, but they are not blood-related for inclusivity reasons. In a world where magic lies in the arts, you are a princess of Terpsichani, the kingdom whose power comes from dance. Loved by many, you care for your country deeply, though in truth your heart only belongs to the palace's royal cobbler, Chan, who holds equal affection for you in return. It's a love that could never be, you both know, though it doesn't stop you from pining. But then you go missing on the final night of your kingdom's Moonlight Festival, leaving behind nothing but the memories of a final dance. When your sister brings news of your disappearance to Chan's doorstep, there's only one thing he can do. Follow you into the depths of hell to bring you back—or die trying. Part 2 >> Part 3

To Spin a Yarn | Stray Kids Masterlist

Chan finds himself in front of the witch’s hut with no idea how he got there.

His sides heave with the effort of taking breath. His mouth feels dry, like he hasn’t had water in days. He reaches up and finds there are still tears in his eyes, and the sun has risen and nearly set during the time it took to return.

He failed. He failed so badly—didn’t manage to get the necklace, didn’t manage to get you out. All he has is this wretched crown in a wretched case, and he doesn’t even know how to unlock it. With luck he won’t need to unlock it, he’ll be able to just burn the whole thing together, but the king still has his necklace and he still has you—

Shut up. Chan knocks on the door and tries to breathe. Panicking and crying won’t help you. He needs to think, because he’s going back. Obviously. For the ruby necklace, and for you, and then you’re going to get out of that godforsaken kingdom and never look back.

Yeah, and look how well that went last time.

The door swings open before he can try and refute that.

“Oh! Young man—” The witch sees the look on his face and cuts herself off.

Wordlessly, Chan opens his bag and extends her the case with the crown. “I have the crown,” he says, and his voice sounds terrible, rough and hoarse and his throat is dry, so dry. “It’s in here, but it’s locked. I don’t know if you can burn it outright.”

She waves him inside, taking the case. “There are many enchantments woven on this. I don’t know if it would burn in the fire in this box,” she replies, brows furrowed. She taps the dent that Chan saw in the middle. “This is where you would unlock it, if there was a key.”

Chan takes a closer look at the dent. He hadn’t tried much before; the king’s room was dark, and then there was no time. Now that he can see it in the light, it’s not really a dent—more of a carefully molded groove, the inset similar to the edges of a cut crystal…

“It’s the ruby,” he whispers, horror washing over him. He thought he failed before, but it’s even worse—the ruby is meant to unlock this box. He’s sure of it. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes terrible. He never quite got the closest look at the ruby, but the general shape and set of the jewel seems to match the box and it just fits.

The witch seems to agree. “Do you have the necklace?” she asks, indicating his clenched fist.

Huh. He hadn’t noticed he was holding something so hard. With effort, he opens his fist, his fingers protesting as blood comes rushing back into them. In his palm lies a silver key, its shape imprinted into his skin. Chan almost laughs. He didn’t even need to use it, in the end. What if he hadn’t gone for this, and tried to take the ruby first? Would he have succeeded?

But no. He needed the key, if it was yours. In case you didn’t manage to get out. The knowledge that he’s right doesn’t comfort him much, though.

“No.” Chan rips the word off his tongue, tasting all his failure on it. “He wears it at all times. I—tried to get this key first. And I did. But he woke up, and then there was no time.” He swallows hard. “And I couldn’t rescue my friend either.”

Slowly, slowly, the witch nods. “I see,” she replies, her old voice grave. “So what will you do next?”

For some reason, this is what breaks the dam of tears that he had just managed to erect.

“I don’t know,” he grits out, all the anger and self-hatred from hours of riding coming out in full force. “I don’t know. I failed. I messed everything up, and I lost Y/N—”

The old woman touches his arm. Guides him quietly to a chair. Waits until his chest stops heaving and he stops babbling nonsense, and extends him a glass of water, which he sips at first, then downs in three gulps. She refills it and then sits before him once more.

“You did not fail,” she says quietly, and the certainty in her voice finally strikes a chord in his chest, his heart beating a little more slowly. “You brought back the crown, and while we may not be able to destroy it just yet, the center of magic being pulled from the kingdom will already lend to its collapse.” She picks up the case again. “I will work at the enchantments and see if I can break any. In the meantime—”

“I have to go back,” Chan blurts out. “I have to—I need to get Y/N out, I need to bring her back.”

“And so you will,” she agrees. “But not now.”

Anger flares in his chest. “What do you mean, not now? She’s already hurt! I can’t wait—”

“You must,” she snaps, iron in her voice. “It is dark. The king’s men will be hunting you in the shadows, and once you leave the hut my protections will no longer cover you. Even with the invisibility cloak, while they may not be able to see you, you will not see them under the cover of night. And, beyond this, you are in no shape to go.” Chan starts to protest, but she raises a hand. “You have not slept in over a day. You need to rest, and so does your poor horse.” Her voice softens. “When dawn comes, you will go. You must, to save your friend. But until then, you will rest.”

She’s probably right. Chan can already feel his body slumping with exhaustion. But the thought of you, alone and hurt at the mercy of a king of hell still raises his voice. “You said the kingdom would collapse without its center of power,” Chan gets out. “Was that a literal collapse? Or just metaphorical?”

“Literal,” the old woman replies easily. “But it will take some time—the collapse would not be as quick as if I burned the crown in the fire right this instant. You have perhaps a day before the palace will literally begin to collapse. Which is enough time for you to rest.” She puts down the box and turns to a cabinet, rummaging around for a minute before coming back with a small bottle that she gives to him. “This will give you dreamless sleep,” she says, not unkindly. “Please, young man. You must rest.”

Chan stares at the small bottle. He thought he was all cried out, but tears brim at his eyes once more. “Why are you helping me so much?” he asks, voice brittle. “In fact, if you knew all this, why wouldn’t you fight the king yourself?”

She laughs kindly, putting a wrinkled hand over his. “I would, if these old bones would sustain another confrontation,” she says, chuckling a little sadly. “I am old, young man. I have seen many things, and I have fought most of my own battles. Trust me when I say that I would not survive another fight with that kingdom.”

Chan blinks. “Another?”

“Yes. I am one of those who cursed his family, after all.” She continues as if Chan wasn’t immediately reeling from that piece of information. “This was ages ago, and they hadn’t stirred much, to my knowledge, until you came by. Now I realize they must have been wreaking more havoc than I was aware of.” With a strong sigh, she shakes her head. “That royal family is evil, Chan. Their magic is the darkest of all. While I and the other witches were not strong enough on our own to fully defeat them, only curse them so that they could not bear the sunlight, I have hopes now that their power will disappear forever.”

“…But I failed.”

“On your first try.” She smiles. “But you will return, no? And you will try again. It was not on my first attempt that I managed to curse the Kereseians below the ground. You are on a tighter schedule than I was, perhaps, but I have faith in you, young man. You are pure of heart, motivated by love, and you will not give up until you succeed.” Her tone turns stern. “But to do that, you must rest. Yes?”

Chan’s throat hurts, and not just from a day of riding without stopping for water. “Yes, my lady,” he whispers around the lump constricting his voice. “Thank you.”

. . . . .

When your eyes fully open for the first time, you’re not sure how much time has passed. You recall slipping in and out of consciousness, pain blurring the edges of your vision as you gasped for air, so you wait for blackness to consume your vision again, but this time, it doesn’t.

Slowly, you try to take in your surroundings. You haven’t moved from where you were dropped on the floor, after the king broke one of your legs and had someone else snap the other. You don’t think you could even if you tried. You don’t dare try and turn to see the state of your legs, but from the pain still screaming through your bones and skin, it can’t be anything good.

You close your eyes again, letting a few tears leak out. Gods and stars above, why did you wake? Why couldn’t you just stay unconscious? At least in the darkness of your mind, you couldn’t register the pain as clearly. Now that you’re conscious it’s all just rebounded. For minutes or hours, you lie there on the ground, fully awake, unable to think or move.

At some point, the door opens. You barely register it until shoes enter your vision, and even then, the image is blurred by tears and pain.

Someone squats. Lifts up your chin. You grit your teeth and blink away tears to come face to face with the man you currently loathe most in the world.

“Hello, my queen to be,” the king croons, though now, even he can’t fully disguise the hatred lying behind his eyes. You don’t bother to hide your own—it’s the only thing keeping you up. You note with grim satisfaction that the burns on his face haven’t healed, his skin still red and raw where the dawn burned him, and he isn’t wearing his crown. “It’s time for the evening meal.”

Bizarrely, this reminds you of your first day here. “I’m not hungry,” you mutter, half a smirk curving your lips before it drops. “I don’t feel well.”

“Of course you don’t.” He laughs in your face. “You will soon, however.” From somewhere to the side, he produces a goblet. “Drink.”

You sneer. “How am I to know whether or not that’s poison?”

“I wouldn’t poison my wife to be, no matter how terribly she treated me.” Mock hurt flashes across his face and you want to slap him. “This is enchanted water from the fountain that was to be your wedding gift, Your Highness. It will heal you completely.” He leans in closer. “You will marry me, and you will bear my child. You have no choice.”

You spit in his face.

“Such unladylike behavior.” He tuts, wiping away a drop of spit with an almost careless finger. “Do you not want to be well?”

You’d give almost anything to get rid of the pain. In fact, you’re seconds away from giving in. But he doesn’t need to know that. So you say nothing.

He beckons to someone outside of your line of sight. Before you understand what’s happening your head jerks back by someone else’s hand, another hand forcing your mouth open as the king himself pours the contents of the goblet down your throat.

Choking and spluttering, swallowing in spite of yourself, the first thing you think is that this tastes like normal water. Then a warming sensation begins to filter through your body, spreading slowly through your limbs, and slowly but surely, the screaming in your legs stops and you feel them straighten without your will.

Your mouth fills with a bitter aftertaste. You’re not sure if it was the water, or just your mind trying to turn your tears into something as bitter as your loathing. The pain is gone, your thoughts are clear, and you wish they weren’t.

If you were just a little stronger, maybe they wouldn’t have been able to treat you like this.

“Still hoping for your lover to save you?” The king laughs coldly, icy fingers cupping your cheek. “He can’t come here anymore, you know. We found where he came in and we sealed the cracks. Right now, my people are combing the forest, ready to serve his heart to me on a silver platter.” He smiles like the bitterness in your mouth hasn’t turned to something rotten that tastes like blood, like your heart isn’t beating painfully fast even as you fight to keep your expression neutral. “I will save you, Your Highness. Day and night I will clip your wings, then grow them again—all so that you can stay with me.” His smile widens. “Romantic, isn’t it?”

Briefly, you weigh the merits of throwing up on him. You've already spat on him twice. But you don’t have the energy, so you do nothing, hatred for the king and yourself burning in your chest. You focus on the burns on his face, on his neck, reminding yourself that he is mortal, that for all his seeming power he can be hurt—

Wait. You almost frown before schooling your expression back into one of hatred. If he has this enchanted water, why doesn’t he use it on himself? If it could heal your two broken legs in minutes, surely it would heal him in no time? Something doesn’t seem right about that, but the king speaks before you can take the train of thought any further.

“Have her dressed,” he says, gesturing to someone else in the room. “Then take her to the banquet hall.” He takes your arms and drags you up and your first instinct is to shove him away, but then you stumble on your newly-healed legs and fall back into him anyway.

He ignores your attempt, his eyes boring into yours, his lips curving slowly. Knife blades and blood. “We can’t go without our evening entertainment, after all.”

. . .

For some reason, you’re dressed even more lavishly tonight, given a gown of the smoothest silk you've ever felt, jewelry with the largest gems you’ve ever seen. You sit quiet and miserable as silent servants do your makeup, then slip on yet another dark pair of slippers on your feet. Briefly you wonder what they did with the clothes you came here in, the white robes and Chan’s lovely shoes.

What wouldn’t you give for them over these ostentatious ornaments.

Your legs, though healed, still tremble when you put weight on them. Logically you know they must be fine, but you can’t shake the feeling that they are still injured, that bone shards aren’t still poking out of your skin, that you shouldn’t be able to move as easily as you currently do. The high-heeled dance shoes don’t help at all. But because there are guards, and because you are being watched, you force yourself to stand, to walk.

When you reach the banquet hall, it seems as though nothing has changed. You’re not even certain as to whether the court was informed of your escape attempt, because while you garner a few stares and smirks upon your entrance, it’s still no more than you had grown used to before. The king probably didn’t say anything, you conclude through the meal. Doesn’t want to make it seem like he’s lost more control over the situation than he already has, you suppose. They already know he lost his crown. He can’t make it look like you tried to escape, too.

But something does change when the meal is over, and everyone begins to enter the grand ballroom. Because while the king still leads you inside, he doesn’t accompany you to the center of the floor, as he had done before. Instead—

“Dance for us, Your Highness,” he says, smiling cruelly. “We have been deprived of your magical abilities, as you choose not to show them to us. I can only assume you are shy, hm?” He cups your cheek in his cold hand and a little laugh rises from the crowd, making your skin crawl. “I am rather curious about your magic, Your Highness. I saw it when you danced for your Moonlight Festival, and I must confess, I fell in love.”

You take his cold hand, bring it down under the thin guise of holding it gently when you want nothing more than to stab him in the throat. “You did, didn’t you.” Your voice is flat but for some reason it still amuses the court even more.

“Of course I did.” He gestures at the expanse of people around the ballroom. “As I’m sure they all will too, when they get to see the wonder of your art for the first time. So dance for us, Your Highness.” He lets go of your hand. “I will enjoy the spectacle as part of the audience.”

You fight the urge to scoff as you step into the center of the floor, legs trembling. Spectacle. You are not a spectacle, you are a human. But of course he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that he’s forcing you to dance on legs that he snapped and healed within twenty four hours. He doesn’t care that you don’t trust your bones as you would on any other day. You’re shaking all over and phantom pains keep running up your legs in spite of the healing water, and the only saving grace of this whole terrible outfit is the long skirt of your dress, hiding the way your legs tremble.

Despite yourself, tears try to force themselves into your eyes. You swallow them down even as despair clogs your throat. He does mean to make a spectacle of you, like a ballerina in a music box—an object meant for only the entertainment of others. It hurts. It hurts so much. And it would be so easy to give up, to give in to the pain and hopelessness of it all, but—

Your mind turns back to Chan, and the last words he spoke to you. “I’m not going to leave you behind.”

He won’t leave you. He’ll be back. You swallow hard. And if you don’t want him to give up, neither can you.

The several nights you danced with the king, you forced yourself not to bring your magic into play. You feared that the overwhelming sadness would only bring more demeaning laughter to the court. But you remember the terror you were able to strike into your guards when you tried to escape, their eyes blown wide like they were truly scared.

Even if it won’t last, even if they will only laugh in the end, you would like them to feel as you have felt over the past several days. If only for a moment.

Hanging your head deliberately, you wait for the music to begin. It doesn’t matter what it is, you’ll spin it into what you need. As if the musicians have sensed how you feel, though, the melody that starts is slow, desolate, and everything you wanted.

And so you let go, injured legs be damned.

The room blurs into a tapestry of black marble and flame. The stares of the crowd become nothing more than pinpricks of light in the distance. The ominous gaze of the king falters and disappears as you whirl around the room, singing emotion through your movements, spinning everything you remember since the night you were kidnapped into a performance on the floor. Confusion, terror, desperation. Disgust, fear, anger. And when it comes time for you to retell Chan’s appearance and the relief and hope that crashed over you—

You look straight into the eyes of the Kereseian king as you spin past.

By the time it’s over, you’re panting with exhaustion, sweat dripping down your brow. The music is slowing, fading into the air, and as it finally stops, you become aware of the world again. Aware of the silence of the room, the stares of the court, the shakiness in your legs that still keeps you hesitant to put your full weight on them. There are tears in your eyes and you’re certain they’ve fallen down your face, too.

Then one person begins to clap. And another. And then another, until the ballroom echoes with quiet applause, despite the fact that you have taken no bow. Instead, you turn to look at the king, who steps forward with something unreadable in his eyes.

“A lovely performance,” he says, the cruel curve of his mouth lifting into half a smile. “Did you make that up on the spot?”

You nod mutely, trying hard not to cry.

“Your talent is great.” It sounds like it might be the first sincere thing he told you in—well, in all the week and a half that you have known each other—but you don’t bother to thank him. “I think I fell in love with you again.”

This time, you scoff out loud. “Your Majesty, don’t insult me. I don’t think you’d know love if it slapped you in the face.”

His eyes darken. “I was going to try and be kind,” he says, voice dangerous. “But you’ve made your stance clear, I see.”

You give him half a smile. “You wouldn’t know kindness if it slapped you in the face either.”

He spins you into frame, crushing your hand in his grip. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispers in your ear. “For by the end of the night, you are mine to keep and enjoy. Whether or not I show you kindness or love…it will never matter. Not to you.”

It’s true. Because you couldn’t care for him even if he had showed you kindness, even if he had showed you whatever it is he thinks is love—he took you from your home, took you from your family, took you from those who loved you most. And it’s even easier to remember that when, at the end of the night, he takes you back to your room stumbling, half-dead, and exhausted, and orders guards to snap your legs again as soon as you enter your quarters.

Everything hurts. Your body is on fire and you can’t stop the tears of pain from pooling on the floor beneath you. But though you bite your lip so hard it draws blood, you take a small, grim satisfaction in that you didn’t scream this time.

. . . . .

It takes the full length of a day or more to reach the earth under with Kereseia lies. Chan sets out at dawn, riding more carefully than his haphazard trip a day ago, and with several short breaks, he reaches the opening the witch showed him when night has already fully set, the sun sunk beneath the horizon.

He stumbles off his horse and barely remembers to picket it before giving him a pat of apology and stepping into the cave. Once inside, he searches for the metallic glow of the silver trees below, but—

The glow isn’t there anymore.

Chan squints into the darkness, anxiety rising in his throat. Keeping one hand carefully against the wall of the cave, he ventures further inside. After some trouble he finds the two rocks that had signaled the entrance before, but when he feels between them, all he touches is solid earth. As if the opening never existed.

Panic nearly shuts off his mind. He places his head in his hands and tries to think beyond the imminent mental breakdown. The king has obviously sealed off this entrance, and Chan wouldn’t put it past him to have gone through the kingdom and sealed anything that might even be the slightest opening to the earth’s surface.

Chan nearly curses out loud. Also almost punches the wall, but forces himself not to at the last second—who knows who is watching out here, where the king could have eyes in this darkness? He sinks down onto the cave floor, placing his head in his hands as he tries to breathe. Why didn’t he think that this would happen? It’s so obvious now that he thinks of it—of course the king would try to find where he came in from after he managed to get in.

Several frustrated tears roll down Chan’s cheek, but he wipes them away harshly. This opening is closed. More likely than not, any others have also been sealed. He has no way of finding another unless it’s by pure luck—and luck hasn’t been on his side for a while—and he can’t easily go around trying to find one anyway, not when it’s dark and Kereseian guards have probably been scouring the area for him—

The guards.

His eyes widen. They have to get back into the kingdom somehow. If he can find one of them and stay hidden...

He might just be able to follow one back into Kereseia.

A rush of hope warms his chest but he swallows it down. No use in hoping unless he can actually find one of them, now. But at least it’s a straw to grasp at.

For the next few hours, Chan quietly passes through the area of the woods, clutching the clasp of the cloak at his throat. He doesn’t hear a sound, though, beyond the usual murmurings of a forest at night, nor does he see anything particularly strange, even when he decides to climb a tree and watch the ground below for a while. As the hours pass, the sky lightens, and when the sky is a dusty gray Chan almost gives up. Any guards have probably already returned underground, and he’s lost his only lead—

A dark shadow rushes past the corner of his vision. Chan whirls around, clapping a hand over his mouth, to see the black uniform of the Kereseian guard disappearing into the distance.

Heart in his throat, Chan strides as quietly as he can over soft grass and dirt until he’s ten paces behind the guard. Praying, praying that the guard doesn’t notice him, he follows until they reach a small clearing in the woods. The guard mutters something under her breath and places a hand to the grass.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then a harsh, orange glow flares from the earth, the ground clearing until a small staircase appears, circling underground.

With every step, Chan thinks the guard will hear him. He doesn’t dare believe luck is on his side. But they reach the bottom of the staircase without trouble, the guard muttering expletives about damned humans and damned king, and Chan finally lets himself breathe just until they emerge from a tiny door and Chan nearly barrels headfirst into several other guards. He barely stops himself in time, but even then, one of them looks around suspiciously, like she felt something in the wind.

Chan holds himself stock still, not daring to even breathe as the three guards begin to talk, winding their way back to the palace. The dark streets of Kereseia look even more unsettling than when he first saw them, cold lamps shining overhead, the strange silver trees casting strange glows onto the ground. The people of Kereseia walk freely through the streets, and it takes all of Chan’s concentration not to bump into anyone while still keeping the three guards in his line of sight. This entrance is considerably further from the palace than the one the witch told him about, and Chan’s feet are beginning to hurt a little by the time the imposing dark gates of the palace come into view.

But something is strange. Chan squints, almost bumping into one of the guards. “What’s that?” he hears one of them ask, echoing his thoughts. It almost looks like small clouds of…black dust, or something, are rising from the palace. As they get closer, the gates opening to greet them, it only becomes more evident, and Chan hears faint crashing inside, too.

Oh. Oh, no. His heart stops.

“The center of magic being pulled away from the kingdom will already lend to its collapse.”

“Was that a literal collapse? Or just metaphorical?”

“Literal.”

The palace is collapsing. Chan looks left, right—it seems anyone with sense has left. Even the three guards he entered with are sounding cries of alarm, already beginning to run out of the gates. There is no one at the palace door. No one to let him in, not that he could even ask—

The doors groan open, and several people come running out, screaming. Chan wastes no time.

He sprints inside.

. . . . .

The second night of torture begins much the same as the first. The king comes inside and force feeds you a goblet of enchanted water. The burns still litter his face and neck, but you have barely enough time to wonder why he doesn’t drink the water himself before he’s whisking out of the room, leaving someone else to prop you up on your shaky legs and primp you for the evening festivities.

You feel sick the whole time, as usual. No one speaks to you but the king, as usual. You dance alone for the entertainment of the court. He takes you as his partner next, and you exchange barbed words as he dances with you hour after hour after hour.

But then the ground shakes beneath your feet, right as the last waltz is about to start. The ceiling seems to tremble above you. You stumble on your shaky legs, but the king’s grasp on your hand doesn’t let you fall. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, his gaze riveted on the ground trembling underneath his toes.

All around you, shrieks of confusion and surprise have begun to permeate the air. You ignore them, gaze fixed solely on the king’s face that is growing stormier and stormier by the second. “The ball is over!” he shouts above the din. “Return to your homes.”

“What is happening?” you demand as the ground gives another shake. This time, the king lets you go, and you barely manage to keep your balance. “Why is the ground shaking?”

He sneers. “Because of your little lover,” he snarls. “He’s taken my crown. The seat of Kereseia’s power is too far away, and the palace is collapsing for it. Don’t worry though, darling.” His lips curve into a wide, insane smile. “I’ll escape. But you won’t.”

In the time it takes you to understand what he means, two guards have already grabbed your arms. You writhe and screech, twisting and biting, but their grip is iron. The king laughs, catching your chin between his cruel, cold hands. “It’s such a shame, Your Highness. If you had kept your father’s side of the bargain and just been my pretty wife, instead of having your lover rescue you like some ill-fated hero, you might have lived. But no.” He sneers. “You think your lover is coming back for you now, under this heap of rubble? No. You will be buried here forever, and I will simply have to find another partner.” His expression mocks you as he tilts his head, feigning thought. “What is your second sister’s name…Yeji? I’m sure she will make a fine wife.”

“You—” Rage blinds your vision and you scream, a raw, breathless sound that echoes off the walls.

The king only laughs in your face. “Take her to her room, and snap her legs,” he says, waving a hand like he’s just asked for another glass of wine at dinner. “I think I’ll leave your wedding gift intact, hm? If only you could escape. If only you had another to dance with.” He cackles, high and loud, and turns around. “If only you could dance in the first place.”

He’s going to break your legs. He’s going to bury you here. He’s going to keep the magic of the stairs intact at least until it collapses on its own, to taunt you—because if you had your legs, if you had a partner, you could leave. But you won’t. You won’t have your legs and you’ll have no one to save you and he knows it. Relishes it.

“MONSTER!” you scream.

He doesn’t even deign to look at you in reply.

You fight the entire way. You kick, writhe, scratch, twist and bite anything you can reach. But in the end, there is nothing, only the pain of two broken legs without the bliss of unconsciousness as pieces of the ceiling begin to fall around you. Sick to your stomach, you cling to the only hope you have left.

Chan, I know you will return.

Please don’t be too late.

. . . . .

By the time Chan reaches your rooms, rubble has already covered the halls, dust rising in the air and choking him until he raises his cloak to his face. The foundations groan beneath his feet, the ground cracking as he sprints across the floor, but he keeps going even as chunks of ceiling begin to fall all around him.

He’s so close. So far. With every turn he takes, every chunk of stone he dodges, he fears he might be too late. But he is not leaving this palace without you.

He isn’t too late. He can’t be.

A chunk of marble the size of his fist crashes to the floor just as he skids to a stop at your door. He digs frantically in his bag for the key, the key he took instead of the ruby—and now he knows it was the right decision. If he’d even managed to succeed with the ruby, what would it matter if he’d failed to take you again, and he had to return with no key? His fingers close around the slim silver key and he twists it in the lock with a prayer to any god listening above.

Something clicks. Chan swings the door open, rips off his cloak, and meets your eyes.

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Gods and stars above, Y/N—”

“Chan?” You cough on the dust, and Chan immediately rushes to your side. “Chan—I—how did you get back here?" you gasp. “He said he sealed all the openings—gods, I prayed you would come but I never though—”

“I followed a guard,” Chan says, trying not to stare at the sight of your disfigured legs splayed out on the ground. “I got in but—Y/N, what happened—”

“He broke my legs.”

Chan blinks. Blinks again.

"He healed them every night he wanted me to dance.” Your words fall to the floor, brittle, cracked, broken. “And when the night was over, he would break them again. So I couldn’t run away.” Tears roll down your face but you laugh, an empty noise devoid of mirth that scares Chan more than the groaning of the floor beneath him. “When the palace began to collapse, he threw me in here and did it one last time. So I wouldn’t escape.”

Rocks have begun to thud on the ground around you two, but all Chan can hear is the roaring of blood in his ears. Fury clenches his hands into fists and it’s all can do to stop himself from punching a hole in the floor—save it, he tells himself with more restraint than he thought he had. Save it for when you meet him. “How did he heal you?” Chan asks instead, ignoring the shake in his voice.

“Enchanted water.” You have to raise your ragged voice above the sound of the palace crumbling beneath you. “The fountain outside.”

Chan blinks. The fountain outside—the one that had been at the base of the staircase where you danced the first time you tried to escape. He knows where it is. He glances between you and the door. He could leave you here and bring back the water, but what if the room collapses before he can get back? “I’m going to have to carry you,” he says grimly, feeling his heart crack with the way your lips tighten. “I’m sorry. I can’t leave you in here.”

You take a deep breath. Close your eyes, then open them once more. “Do it.”

As quickly as he dares, Chan slides one arm under your thighs and another under your back. “One, two, three—”

He lifts you up. You let out a strangled noise and latch onto his neck, holding so tight it’s a little hard to breathe, but Chan doesn’t complain, only throws himself out the door as fast as he can. He’s halfway down the hall when a crash sounds behind the two of you, coming right from the room you just abandoned.

“There.”

Your voice drags him out of his stupor and he looks to where you’re pointing, the familiar round atrium with a fountain set in the middle. Chan hurries as fast as he can, narrowly dodging a fist-sized piece of marble that hits his leg instead. “Shit.”

“My family wouldn’t approve of that language.” Your voice, though faint, still holds the slightest hint of a smile and Chan nearly cries. You’re not fully gone. Not just yet.

“We’ll worry about my language when we get out of here.” When, not if, Chan reminds himself as he lowers you to the ground. “Give me a moment.”

The fountain has stopped running, but a fair amount of water remains in the bowl. His fingers fumble with the flask in his bag but he finally manages to tug it free and fill it as full as he can. “Here,” he says, tipping the water to your lips. “Come on, Y/N.”

You empty a quarter of the flask before you push his hand away. “That’s enough,” you say, voice a little clearer. “I can’t taste that anymore.” Gripping the side of the fountain, you drag yourself up on unsteady legs that have already healed. “Let’s go.”

"Didn’t you say he sealed the openings?” Chan asks over the rumble of the palace falling around him. “Even if we leave the palace, I don’t know if I can recreate the opening where the guards came in from.”

“Here.” You stare at the fountain, then at the circle of stones surrounding it. “We’ll leave from here.”

Chan blinks. “How do you know it’ll work?”

“He said he’d keep it intact. Until it fell on its own, anyway. Because he thought it was the most amusing thing in the world, having a clear exit open for me—as long as someone healed my legs, and would dance with me. Neither of which he thought would ever happen.” You laugh once, a sound devoid of amusement, as your gaze fractures with memories of something Chan wasn’t here for. The voice that leaves your throat is brittle, cracked when you speak again. “We should go.” Despite your words, though, you don’t move.

“Y/N?” He peers into your eyes, into the fragmented expression that terrifies him more than anything he’s encountered during his time here. “Y/N, are you—”

“Chan.” Your voice breaks, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Chan, I don’t want to dance anymore.”

His heart splits. Shatters. Falls to the floor in pieces that mix with the marble dust littering the ground. Then it resurrects itself, fused together with a flame of fury that Chan takes care not to show as he takes your hands, forcing his voice to stay steady. “One step at a time,” he soothes, even as he rages internally at the fact that the king took so much away from you, your family, your liberty, and now even your love for dance. “Just like the other times, yeah?” Never mind that they’ve danced with each other a total of two times, one of which was their last failed escape. Chan’s heart hammers in his chest but he grips your hand a little tighter, lets the other rest loosely on your shoulder so you can shrug him away whenever you need. “Just guide me,” he whispers. “I’ll follow. Always.”

“Follow,” you murmur, so softly Chan almost doesn’t hear you. “He always made me follow.” You blink once. Twice. “You want me to lead?”

“Why not?” Even as the ceiling groans, Chan smiles. “I’ll follow your lead.”

For a moment, it feels as though the world stops as the implication of his words hangs over your heads.

I’ll follow you everywhere you go, even into the depths of hell.

You take a deep breath. Look up into his eyes with a gaze still cracked, but a little less so than before. “I’ll lead,” you say, squeezing his hand. Your other hand goes to his back, resting on his shoulder blade the way you danced at the festival just days ago. “I’ll lead.”

“One step at a time,” Chan reminds you softly. His lips quirk. “And I’m sorry if I step on your toes.”

You don’t smile. Not quite. But the barest hint of a sparkle finds its way into your eyes, more of the glass cracks sealing themselves once more.

“Ready?” You take a deep breath. “One, two, three...”

And you dance.

. . . . .

Your heart leaps into your throat the second you step onto one of the circles. Rocks are flying overhead, the very stone beneath your feet unstable as all hell, but you force yourself to breathe, to guide Chan around the cracks in the marble as you begin to weave your way across the stones.

For several terrible minutes, nothing happens. The circular steps don’t rise. The ground continues to rumble. With every step you take you can feel yourself faltering, angry tears running down your face. The king lied. He had no intention of allowing you even the minutest attempt at escape. He’s taken away your life, your love for dance, all that you had in this underground hell, and now he’s going to take Chan’s life too.

But Chan keeps dancing. Keeps stepping gracefully, keeps following you, and what can you do but continue? He’s trusting you now, just as you trusted him to return. So despite the tears and the terror, you force yourself to keep moving. Keep dancing.

And, after what feels like an eternity, you begin to feel yourself rising.

A shaky gasp bursts from your lips. Between the tears you can barely see where you’re going, but as the circular stones continue to rise you force yourself to focus. It wouldn’t do to trip here and fall, not when you’re so close but so far. Chan’s arms do wonders to hold you up on your unsteady legs, made worse by the shaking of the stone beneath you. For all you’re leading him, he’s the one lending you the strength to keep going.

You're so grateful he's here. So grateful you are no longer alone.

The vaulted ceiling finally groans open, letting in the gray-pink light of the sun. You almost collapse right then and there, but you don’t. Instead, you take Chan on a last few dizzying spins onto the final stone circle before leaping onto the solid earth outside. Only then do you let yourself go, falling to the grass with Chan in one unceremonious tumble, hands still clutching each other tight.

For a moment, you let yourself breathe, taking in the pale light of dawn in the sky, letting its rays caress your skin. Slowly, you force yourself to sit just as Chan also rises, never once letting go of your hand on the way. Then somehow you’re in his arms and he’s in yours and you’re—not sobbing, the sounds being ripped from your throats are something beyond tears and cries—but you’re crushing him close, as close as you can with your trembling arms, and trying to believe that you’re free. That you’ve escaped. Kereseia is collapsing and you won’t ever have to go back.

“Chan,” you gasp. “Chan, I—”

“Shh,” he whispers into your ear, voice shaking as much as yours. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Just then, the earth rocks a little beneath your bodies. You both freeze.

“The palace is still falling,” you say, wiping away tears. “The ground must also be unstable. We should leave.”

Chan nods. “I have a horse. Let's go.”

. . .

You don’t make it there.

As Chan leads you through the grass and trees, two pairs of feet dragging to where he remembers leaving his horse, a sharp scuffling noise sounds in a nearby grove. Warily, you look at Chan, who looks back. “Should we—” you start to ask before an unwelcome figure materializes out of the trees and sends you reeling backward into Chan, a scream cut short in your throat.

The king looks—terrible. Far worse than you last saw him, which can’t have been very long ago—only a few hours, maybe. At most. And yet every bit of his exposed skin looks raw and red, angry burns peppered along his throat and face despite him standing mostly in the shadow of the trees, out of reach of the brightest rays of dawn. Even though he wears the same clothes as when he left you to die in that palace, he looks smaller in them. More haggard.

It doesn’t diminish the hatred in his eyes, though.

On instinct you push Chan slightly behind you, stepping forward even as your heart threatens to leap out of your throat. “What are you doing here?” you hiss.

“I could ask the same of you.” The king smirks, though the expression looks more like a grimace than anything else. “I thought I’d never see you again, Your Highness.”

“I could say the same for you,” you reply, acid on your tongue. “Though I didn’t just think, I hoped.”

Behind you, Chan chokes on something that sounds almost like laughter. The sound lends you a little hope. But then it dies away just as quickly, because even though the king looks severely weakened, he still has power. He still has the ruby necklace. You don’t really know what he can do with that power—he’s never actually shown them to you, beyond when he teleported you to his kingdom—but there was a reason his family was cursed underground. It can’t have been because they were harmless.

“So your lover did come back for you.” The king shoots a hateful glance at Chan, who only steps forward to meet it. “I can’t tell if you are brave, or just plain stupid.”

“Faithful,” you correct.

“No sense of self preservation.” The king laughs.

“Not as if you have much either,” Chan says slowly. “Not when you’re standing in the sunlight.”

The king sneers, though for the first time, you don’t pay attention to it. Chan’s words made you remember something. While the king had forced you to drink the fountain’s water to heal your legs, he never took any of it for his burns, which you remember finding strange. “It’s too bad you don’t have any of that enchanted water to heal you, yes?” You force a laugh, carefully eyeing the king’s reaction.

It happens in less than a second. If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed. But the king flinches, ever so slightly, before he regains his sneering composure.

An inkling of an idea begins to form in your mind. “Water,” you hiss to Chan out of the corner of your mouth, angling your hand behind you. You school your face into neutral hatred, praying that he heard you, and praying that the king didn’t. “Why are you out here in the sunlight, Your Majesty? If it hurts you so much, shouldn’t you be sheltering underground?”

“Yes,” Chan chimes in, pressing the flask into your hand. Your fingers close around it as he continues. “Your palace fell, but surely the rest of your kingdom is safe?”

“My reason is standing right before me.” A manic gleam enters the king’s eye. “You have my crown, don’t you, lover boy? The seat of my power?” He steps forward and instinctively you step back. “Or if you don’t have it here with you now, you know where it is, don't you?”

Chan scoffs, though you hear the hitch in his voice. “Even if I did, I’d die before you got it out of me.”

“Oh, you might die without issue.” A smile curves the king’s lips, sending chills up your spin. Your grip tightens around the flask. “But how long would you last if you had to see your dear princess hurt?”

It happens in a second. The king leaps. Chan yells. But strangely, your heart remains calm, even as the king’s cold fingers graze your chin—

And you throw the contents of the flask on his face.

Time seems to suspend itself. The king stares at you. You stare at him. His fingers are just barely touching your chin, like he meant to claw off your skin. Which he might have if he didn’t suddenly crumple to the forest floor, screaming in agony.

Your legs give out immediately after. If it weren’t for Chan, you’d have collapsed right next to the writhing mess of a king before you, but Chan grabs you and tugs you back, his eyes riveted on the scene before him.

You can’t look away either. The king’s face seems to be…melting. It’s the only way you can describe it. The raw redness of his skin flares angrier until it looks like he’s—being boiled, or something, you don’t know how you can even put it into words—but the screams of agony grow sharper and louder until they finally begin to die, turning into raw animal sounds of torture and pain as his mouth twists into something unrecognizable. You stand there, clutching Chan, shaking like no tomorrow, until finally the king stops screaming and goes still.

For a long moment, you and Chan just stand, frozen, unable to tear your eyes from the lump of flesh before you that used to be the Kereseian king. Eventually, though you’re able to speak.

“I didn’t think that would happen.”

Then you lean over and throw up on the grass.

Chan’s over you in a second, producing a handkerchief out of nowhere to wipe your lips, raising the remnants of the flask to your mouth to wash out the taste. He’s shaking too, his face a sick shade of green, but he successfully holds himself back from following in your footsteps.

Finally, you have enough strength to stand up on your own. On unsteady legs, you walk over to what used to be the king. The bright red ruby still rests on his chest, glinting sinisterly in the pink sunlight. Before you can second guess yourself, you pull the necklace around the melted form of his head, trying not to gag.

Chan takes the necklace from you and stuffs it into his bag. “Let’s go,” he says gently, turning you away from the body. “Let’s get out of here.”

You don’t object.

. . . . .

You reach the witch’s hut just as night is falling. Chan is reeling with exhaustion and you don’t look much better, nearly falling off the horse when you try to dismount. You catch yourself on him just in time, and then there’s not much time to think before the hut door swings open, washing the two of you in warm light.

“Goodness.” The witch pulls the two of you with surprising strength into the hut, shutting the door firmly behind. “Come inside, my dears. Sit down.”

Despite his exhaustion, Chan pulls out the ruby necklace from his bag and gives it to the witch before collapsing into one of the overstuffed couches with you. She takes it quickly, turning immediately to the crown case, which had been on one of the nearby tables, and presses the gem into the box’s dent. It swings open. Without a second thought, the witch tosses the crown into her fire, along with the necklace. The flames burn bright white for a moment, then die back down to their previous merry orange.

“You are the witch, aren’t you?” you ask, startling Chan. You’d closed your eyes when you sat down and he’d half expected you to have fallen asleep by now. “The one who helped Chan.”

“I am,” she says, bowing low. “I am also honored to be in your presence, princess of Terpsichani.”

You blink. “I—how did you know?”

“While I may live in a hut in the woods, that does not mean I am bereft of knowledge of the times.” The witch smiles kindly. “I am glad to see you safe in your…friend’s arms.”

Chan flushes red. A ghost of your lovely smile plays on your lips when you look at him. “Friend, Chan?”

“I…” Chan swallows, praying his ears aren’t red at least. “I did not know what else to call you, to a stranger.”

“I tease,” you say, the smile growing a little wider as you squeeze his hand. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I will admit, it wasn’t hard to see through it before,” the witch says, and you laugh as Chan buries his face in his palms. “Just as it isn’t hard to see through it now.”

You lower your head a little, as though embarrassed. When you look up, though, you look better than you have the entire day. “Thank you, my lady,” you say, taking the witch’s wrinkled hands between yours. “For all that you have done for us. For helping keep my love safe. Should you come ever come to my kingdom, you need never lift a hand for a thing. You will be most welcome anywhere.”

“The honor is mine,” she replies, her eyes crinkling with her smile. “I thank you for your kindness, but I do not insist upon reward for my actions. The knowledge that the evil of Kereseia is gone, the seat of the royal family’s power crushed, is enough.”

You frown slightly. “You sound as though you have experience with the kingdom.”

“She was the one of those who cursed the royal family in the first place,” Chan says. It still awes him that this small woman before him was so powerful.

“...I see.” You rise from your seat, and before either of them can stop you, you give the witch a low bow. “Then I must thank you for your unwavering service, my lady.”

“Do not bow to me, Your Highness.” The witch rushes to seat you again, gently pressing you back into the couch cushions. “Not to me. I only did what I had to. As did you.”

Shadows cross your face, and you look away. Chan takes your hands. Squeezes them against the memories of an evil king, his face half melted away, the dying screams in his ears…

“Enough for now.” The witch stands, gesturing to the two of you. Her eyes are sympathetic. “I will bring you two food and water, and then you must rest. I insist,” she says, though your and Chan’s mouths both open to argue. “You are in no shape to continue riding for days in this state. Rest here, for now, and I will send you on your way come morning.”

You look like you still want to disagree, but Chan remembers how his last attempt at refusing rest went so he just gives you a small smile. “You won’t convince her,” he says quietly. “And we both do need rest. You’re about to fall asleep right here.”

“You’re right,” you acquiesce as the witch bustles off to another area of the hut. “Gods above, I’m tired.”

“Sleep now,” Chan says, guiding your head to his shoulder. “I’ll wake you when there’s food.”

“Alright.” You blink once, twice, slowly. “Thank you, Chan. For everything.”

Warmth floods his chest, giving him the courage to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Of course,” he whispers. “Anything for you.”

. . . . .

It takes a day of riding to reach the outskirts of Terpsichani, and another to reach the capital. When Chan stops the horse at the palace gates, you freeze for a moment. A kingdom doesn’t change much in a week, but even so, everything still feels different.

It was only a week. You nearly laugh. How could so much have happened in so little time?

The second you dismount the horse everything turns into a frenzy. People shouting, crying, trying to lead you this way and that—noise pummeling your ears, words bouncing off your skull. Someone tries to separate you and Chan and you only pull him closer, not even thinking about what this might look like to those who don’t know of your love. In this moment, he is safety. He is peace. He is the rope you cling to in the ocean of this overwhelming return.

Then the crowd parts for someone and in the midst of it all you lock eyes with Yeji. Her expression, initially disbelieving, crumples into something beyond relief and you feel your eyes beginning to well with tears as she leaps forward, crushing you into a hug. For seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours you stay locked in her embrace, cherishing the feeling of her arms around you, her face pressed into your shoulder.

When you pull away, the crowd has quieted at your display of affection. Yeji’s attention shifts from yours to someone behind you—Chan, you realize—and before you know it, she’s walked forward and crushed him in a hug not unlike yours.

Your heart melts as Chan glances at you over her shoulder, bewildered confusion in his eyes. It’s okay, you mouth, and slowly that confusion turns into a soft relief that allows him to put his arms around her as well.

Your other sisters come running down the hall, then, along with Chaeyoung, their cries of surprise and relief echoing in your ears moments before they bury you in their embrace too. And for a little while, especially after Yeji joins your hug and pulls Chan into it too, all is right in the world.

Too soon, though, someone clears their throat. You fight the urge to snap. You want nothing more than to scream foul words at the person who did, but it’s probably not their fault, so all you do is wipe your eyes and turn towards them.

It turns out to be your father’s chief advisor, who wears an expression of half shock, half disbelief. You don’t blame him. You still feel the same way too.

“Your Highness.” He bows low. “Please allow me to congratulate you upon your return.”

It doesn’t sound like much to congratulate you on, but you can appreciate how hard it is to politely phrase I’m glad you have escaped after being kidnapped by the ruler of the kingdom of hell, so you just try to smile. “Thank you.”

“Your father has received word of your return,” he continues, oblivious to how your heart immediately plummets to your stomach. “He would like to see you, when you are rested and refreshed.”

Your father. You swallow hard. The man who, if the Kereseian king is to be believed, made the deals that landed you in the kingdom of hell in the first place. The man who failed to warn you or do even the slightest thing to prepare you—whatever preparation means in this situation—for what would happen. Even though he could have.

With effort, you don’t clench your fists. Though you want nothing more than to refuse the invitation and retire to your rooms, he is the king. And you are a princess. Which means you must act as one, no matter how the adrenaline of your return is starting to wear off, no matter how hard exhaustion is beginning to hit instead. “Then tell him I will see him now,” you say, voice as steady as you can keep it. You gesture to Chan. “Please see to it that he is given refreshment. Rooms are to be made up for his convenience of rest. Yeji, have someone assigned to wait on him, please.”

“Y/N—Your Highness.” Chan corrects himself on your name and it almost sends you reeling. He can’t call you by your name here, you know that and he does, but gods and stars above you wish he could. “You don’t need to do all of this for me.”

You look at him steadily. “Chan, there is nothing I could do in the world that would be enough to repay you for you saving me.”

A gasp ripples through the hall. You bite back a frown, turning to Yeji. Did you say something wrong? She must know. What did I miss? you ask with your eyes.

“If I may.” Yeji looks to your father’s chief advisor. “I would like to speak with my sister before she meets our father. It will only be a minute.”

He bows shortly. “As you wish, Your Highnesses.”

The crowd slowly begins to disperse, and Yeji walks you to an empty room. Your other sisters disperse but Chaeyoung follows, beckoning a confused Chan with her. It gives you a little comfort to know that someone else is as lost as you. “Did something happen?” you ask as soon as Chaeyoung shuts the door.

“When Father was informed you were kidnapped, he issued…a challenge, of sorts, to the nobility and royalty of this kingdom and others beyond,” Yeji says carefully. “He promised great reward to the one who would bring you back alive.”

An uneasy feeling begins to spread through your chest. “What did he promise?” you ask quietly.

“Your hand in marriage,” Chaeyoung replies.

After a moment's thought, you realize this wasn't unexpected. How many fairy tales have gone the same way? But you never expected to live a fairy tale yourself so the news still hits you like a punch in the gut and you almost have to steady yourself on the wall. You look at Chan, heart in your throat. “Did you—did you know of this?” you ask, hardly daring to hear the answer.

“I did,” Chan replies, equally quiet. “Her Highness told me, when she came to ask for my aid.”

“And he would have done it without the knowledge that your hand might await his,” Yeji cuts in, her eyes sharp. “You know that, Y/N.”

You do. A deep breath escapes your lips, relief gusting out of you all at once at the reminder. You do know that, know deep within your heart that the minute Chan heard you had disappeared, he would have set out to find you, reward or none. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting Chan’s eyes. He hangs his head, looking almost ashamed, but you take his hands. “You said you would follow me anywhere,” you murmur, tangling your fingers together. “I know you would, regardless what awaited you at the end.”

He squeezes your fingers, a tiny smile on his lips. “I would,” he replies. “Until the end of time.”

“The thing is, he didn’t issue this declaration publicly,” Yeji interrupts. “He announced it to nobility and royalty. I was the one who informed Chan first, but I didn’t know that our father only meant it to be for those of magic blood until later.” Her eyes turn to yours, wide and meaningful.

In your muddled state of mind, it takes you a moment to understand. But when you do, anger begins to burn in your chest.

He meant for a noble to find you. A royal. Someone of the so-called right blood, someone who would inherit the throne with you without issue or scandal. Someone sure to have magic in their veins. Not one of the commonfolk. Certainly not a cobbler.

You almost scream. How is this any different from you being married to the king of hell?

This time, you can’t stop yourself from clenching your fists. “I will have no hand but his,” is all you manage to say. “Magical or not.”

“I know,” Yeji replies, putting a hand on your shoulder. “And I will support you, as will our sisters. But you needed to know, so that Father would not blindside you.”

Fury nearly does blind you then, angry thoughts whirling through your skull. Your father made a deal with the kingdom of hell. When he couldn’t keep the first he made a second, and doomed you to a life of agony in the cold underground. To right the second he issued a challenge to give away your hand to the first who would succeed, and in the end, the challenge was only for a select few, and not for the one who found you, who loved you, and whom you’d already given your heart to.

You swallow hard around the furious lump in your throat. “I understand,” you say. “I will speak to him accordingly.”

“Y/N.” Your name from Chan’s voice cuts through the mess of anger in your mind. You turn to him. “I won’t have you go through more trouble because of me,” he says quietly. His eyes are soft, sad, but he speaks clearly even though he can’t quite look you in the face. “This is not worth as much trouble as it is.”

“You’re wrong.” Two steps forward, and with a surprised gasp from him you’ve locked Chan in your embrace once more. “You’re wrong,” you say again in his ear. “You are worth the moon, the stars. You are worth everything I have to give in this godforsaken world, worth every battle I will have to fight for your hand. Do not even suggest that you are not.” You pull away, your eyes soft. “You fought hell to save me from its clutches. Now, please, Chan.”

His eyes, full of unshed tears, stare back into yours.

Heart in your throat, you wipe a single tear from the side of his face. “Let me fight for you.”

. . .

Just weeks ago you stood in front of your father’s door just like you do now, arm raised, about to knock. The memory curves your lips, bittersweet, as you rap your knuckles against the wood.

“Come in,” his voice sounds. You enter the room.

Immediately your father’s eyes widen, like he didn’t quite believe the news that you had returned. Relief crashes over his features and his voice, always so steady in your memory, trembles as he rounds his desk to wrap you in a hug. “Y/N,” he says. “I am glad you have returned.”

If you hadn't known about his role in the contract with Kereseia, you might have hugged him back, perhaps even shed a few tears on his shoulder. For all the coldness with which he treated you over years past, he seems truly emotional now. But even though he seems genuine, it can’t erase the knowledge the Kereseian king gave you.

It’s true that the king might have lied. If you had only heard the stories of Kereseia, you might immediately assume this was the case. But over the days you spent with him, you know that while he may have teased you in awful ways, spun little white lies about love that he knew you would never believe, he did not lie about the things that were important. Not the threats. Not the punishments. Besides, it takes two to seal a contract.

Someone had to have done it on your end.

So you don’t return your father’s hug, only stand there stiffly until he lets go. You sit down silently in front of his desk as he returns to his own seat. “I was told you wanted to see me,” you prompt.

“I did.” Your father’s eyes watch you carefully. You force your expression to remain neutral. “Though it could have waited until you were rested.” When you don’t reply, he frowns. “Why do you remain so cold, Y/N? Did I do something to merit your temper?”

In a moment, you’ve stood, fists already clenched. “That’s rich,” you spit, “considering you should know exactly what you did.”

Shock passes over his expression and then he schools it neutrally, to your fury. “Y/N, you do not understand,” he begins. “Your mother and I—”

“Don’t tell me I don’t understand,” you snarl. “I understand very well. I understand that you were the one who signed a contract with the king to sell my own mother off—I understand that you were the one who later signed another contract when the first fell through to sell one of your own daughters off—to a kingdom we all know as having risen from the depths of hell.” You take a sharp breath. “And now I also know that you used my kidnapping as a challenge, to find someone to take my hand in marriage though I never consented to it—I know all of this, and you dare ask me if something you did merits my temper?”

Your father looks slightly pale. It brings you no pleasure to see him like this, sickens you even because it means everything the Kereseian king told you must be true, but you continue. “I will have you know,” you say quietly, “that the one who found me, the one who saved me, was not one of those to whom you issued your challenge. He is not noble. He is not royal. Do you know who he is?” You laugh shortly. “He is our Chan. Our royal cobbler. Someone you probably have not spoken ten words to in your life.” Your father opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “I am going to marry him,” you say quietly. “Not because of your disgusting decree. But because he loves me, and I love him, and I refuse to have any other hand but his.”

“You are not well,” your father says, and the dismissiveness in his voice nearly slaps you backward. “You are tired, and not thinking straight. You need rest, and then we will speak again.”

You gape. You never thought that your father would accept this easily, but to just dismiss it out of hand? Just like that? “I don’t need rest!” you yell. “I need you to listen to me—”

“You are not in your right mind!” he snaps. “You know as well as I do that one without magic cannot inherit the throne. You need time to clear your thoughts—”

A laugh escapes your lips, a hysterical sound devoid of mirth. “I have never thought as clearly as I currently am,” you snarl. “You are my father! I am your daughter. You bargained me off to the vilest kingdom on earth so that you would have an heir, you failed to tell me anything that might have prepared me for it, you got both of my legs broken for three days straight for a psychopath who would do anything to keep me from escape, and then to fix that you sold off my hand to the first one who might find me and now when I tell you I want that man to marry me, you refuse!” You laugh again and the sound hurts your throat as it comes up, raw and choking. “You haven’t even apologized!”

Something flashes across your father’s expression, but he masks it too quickly for you to decipher it. “I am sorry, Y/N, for what you went through.” Rage flashes through you—what you went through, like he wasn’t the reason it all happened—“But you are not thinking straight. We will speak later, when you have had time to calm down.”

You choke on your own words, finally feeling an angry tear cascade down your face. “I will have no one but Chan,” you hiss. “Know this, Father. I will fight tooth and nail on this until the very end.” You swing the door open and step out, slamming it shut behind you.

Outside, Chaeyoung waits, pale-faced and wide-eyed. She probably heard everything. “Chaeyoung,” you say, forcing yourself to rein in your tone, “Schedule an audience with my father tomorrow. Make sure Chan is there.” You pause. “In fact, make sure the entire court is there.”

She blanches. “Your Highness, are you sure this is wise?”

“Was my father’s hare-brained decision to send me to that kingdom of hell wise?” You ignore her stifled gasp and continue. “Chan is to be well cared for until then. If he desires to return home, he may. I only ask that he be part of the audience tomorrow. Ensure that he is in proper attire, and tell him that I will speak to him before we enter the chamber, so that he knows what might happen.”

Chaeyoung nods quickly. “If I may, Your Highness…what do you plan to do?”

You smile a little then, though it surely does not reach your eyes. “My father likes to break contracts, it seems,” you say. “I’m just going to break another for him.”

. . . . .

Chan stands in the throne room, fighting the urge to fidget. It’s not just because of the strange looks being cast upon him the longer he stands here, nor the strange clothes a servant gave him to wear when he came to the palace. That, he can somewhat ignore.

He can’t ignore the king’s baleful stare on him across the room, though.

Chan takes a deep breath, remembering what you said to him before you entered the room. “My father refused to hear that I wanted to wed you,” you told him first. “He said that I was not in my right mind. But I know I was.” Your gaze, so fiery then, had softened. “Allow me to fight for us, Chan. I will win, or fall trying.”

What could he do in the face of your determination but agree?

Still, though, he can’t help but feel out of place as the court comes to order. The king’s advisor announces you, and you walk forward. “Your Majesty,” you say, bowing low.

“Your Highness, and my heir.” The king’s eyes don’t waver as you rise. “Announce your intention for this audience.”

You turn to address the crowd. For a moment, your eyes meet his, and Chan feels himself relax slightly as your lips curve into just barely a smile. “I have come before my father’s court, escaped from the kingdom of hell, to announce my intention to marry.”

A gasp rises from the audience. Your father’s eyebrows furrow. “The one I wish to marry is not of magic blood,” you announce, and the whispers grow louder. “But he is the one who saved me from Kereseian clutches. And he is the one to whom I have given my heart.”

The king seems to grit his teeth. “Daughter, you know that one with no magic in their blood cannot join the royal family.”

“And yet you issued a decree, Father.” Your low voice trembles with rage, so much grief and betrayal as you stare at the man who was supposed to love you, to protect you as his daughter, but failed in the end and lost you to the depths of fire and hell. “A decree that the one who found me and brought me back would have my hand in marriage in return.”

The king stares back, impassive. “The decree was not meant for the common folk,” he says, slow, clear. “I don’t know how your cobbler heard of it, but he should have known it was not meant for him.”

Knife blades scratch the walls as your sharp laugh echoes through the room. Chan winces as the sound scrapes through his ears, joining the resounding clack of your heels clicking cold on the marble floor. “Let us not consider right now the fact that you sought to sell my hand in marriage away to the first one who would find me,” you spit, acid in your voice. “I wonder if you made your stipulations evident enough, even to those who heard your decree, considering the only one who found me is of no magic blood.”

It’s the king’s turn for a mirthless laugh to suffocate the air. “If he loves you as much as you say, your poor cobbler boy would have snatched any opportunity at life with you, no matter how absurd.”

All eyes turn to him. Chan stares resolutely ahead at the white marble walls though his shoulders ache to curl in out of embarrassment and shame, red-eared, red-faced shame at the publicity of his love—but there is nothing to be ashamed of, he reminds himself, no shame in loving someone as wonderful and beautiful as you. No shame at having succeeded in a task where all others failed.

There is still that sharp sting of being used as a pawn in the king’s desperate attempt to right a terrible mistake, however.

“And I suppose you would now take advantage of that.” You shake your head. “Take advantage of that cobbler’s loyalty, his love, his life—”

“It would have been foolish for him to hope at a chance with you,” the king interrupts. “Cobblers don’t marry princesses.”

Chan’s shoulders finally slump. The red creeps across his cheeks, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. The king is right, here—cobblers don’t marry princesses. Especially not cobblers without magic.

The silence that follows the king’s declaration is deafening. Every pair of eyes fixed on him weighs heavy on Chan’s shoulders, dragging him down, down, down. He doesn’t want to be here. Shouldn’t be here in the first place. He swallows hard, ready to slip out of the crowd and make his retreat before he hears anything more.

But then you turn your head. Meet his eyes.

And between all the grief and fury dancing in your pupils, Chan sees a smile, then silent words playing on your lips.

I’m not going to leave you behind.

An echo of the promise he once made you in a castle set in the depths of hell, your hand desperately gripping his.

“You think he came for me in an attempt at marriage?” And here your laugh cackles vindictive between the marble walls, so sharp and cold but with a touch of fiery warmth that soothes the lash of shame crawling up Chan’s spine as you look back at your father. “You truly think so?”

Only the sound of soft breaths interrupts the silence in the hall.

“My cobbler would have come for me whether or not you had issued the decree,” you declare, and in your step forward Chan feels terror, uncertainty, crushing relief—emotions, he realizes, all of the emotions you felt before and when he arrived. “Because he loves me. Cares for me.”

Every eye in the room follows the sharp snap of your arm forward, one finger extended toward the man sitting on the throne. Every spine shudders at the vindictive anger you threw into the air with that one movement.

“More than you,” you whisper, voice a terrifying contrast to your blazing eyes. “More than my own father.”

Gasps sound around the court at your audacity but Chan can only watch as you take another step forward, staring your father full in the face. “You made one promise to a mad king of hell and almost doomed my mother to death in flames,” you snarl. “You made another promise to right the first and got my legs snapped in two every night for three nights just so the mad king’s son could have his entertainment. You made a third promise to right the second and now you tell me it was one you never intended to keep. The one promise that would truly have righted some of the wrongs, and you shirk from this one, too.” The peal of laughter that falls from your lips chills the air with the same icy fire Chan remembers from the hell-castle. “Tell me, Father. How many promises would you break so easily?”

“I—”

“No matter.” Your voice carries over the king’s as you take the last step forward, right to base of the throne. The guards make as though to block you but Chan watches as you flash them a look, a single look and a gesture of your fingers like knives in the air that sends them reeling, horror in their eyes. You ascend the steps until you tower over your sitting father, stone-faced. “When I was born, you made a promise to our goddess. Our deity. Our sacred Mother, the giver of the magic that runs through my veins and yours.”

Your arms rise. Fingers grip the jeweled crown that rests on your head. A gasp begins to run through the crowd again and Chan finds himself stepping forward, a hand reaching out to stop you as he begins to understand just what you mean to do—

You look at him, and in that single second, Chan sees the smirk twitch your lips so very slightly.

He stops.

“You promised I, as your first-born, would be the next heir to the throne of our kingdom.” You lift the circlet from your head and hold it out, letting firelight glitter on the jewels, throwing their shine onto your skin. With your face still as it is, the room completely silent, Chan would have believed it if someone had told him you were the goddess herself. “You made an oath to our goddess that unless an untimely death became me, I would be your heir.”

For the first time, the king’s eyes tremble. Slightly, slightly, but it is more than enough for Chan’s heart to feel that slight vindication, that sharp satisfaction that he’s been craving ever since the king opened his bitter mouth and began speaking.

“Since you seem to enjoy breaking promises so much, I will break this one for you, Father.” You place the crown on his lap with delicate precision. “In the face of this betrayal—that the king of this blessed land would trade his wife to a king and then his daughter to that king's son, would gamble with their lives and those of so many others—I refuse to claim this tainted crown. I can be no blessed heir for such a cursed throne.” Jewel light sparks off your face and the smile painted across your lips. “I am sure the goddess hears this, and I am sure she understands.”

A clatter and a clang sound on the marble as the crown falls and a flinch carries through the crowd as the king stands, fire blazing in his eyes. “You—”

The voice ripples through the hall, silencing every whisper.

She what, exactly?

Chan’s breath lodges in his throat. He nearly chokes on it.

The Goddess Mother. Terpsichore. She who breathes magic into this land of dance, who gives the kingdom, Terpsichani, its name.

At the front of the throne room, the king has gone still, all the color drained from his face. Your own eyes have left those of your father, turned wide to the crowd as you try understand what is happening. Both of you compose yourselves, though, far more quickly than Chan manages. As you and your father drop to your knees, so does the rest of the room.

You speak first. “My lady.”

My chosen.

Your shoulders seem to stiffen under the weight of the goddess’s greeting, but you don’t say a word.

So, too, does your father speak. “My lady.”

Your…Majesty.

From where he kneels, Chan allows his eyes to sweep around the room, catching several other glances as well. No one, it seems, missed the pause before the goddess deigned to call the king by his title.

Your father’s face tightens.

I heard the princess’s declaration. I heard the reasoning she put forth to lay her crown, your promise, at your feet. The goddess’s voice echoes off the marble walls, directed at the king. But while I am all-knowing within the borders of our country, my sight in foreign lands is…limited.

Princess.

You look up, ever so slightly.

You called upon me.

A pause. You square your shoulders. “I did, my lady.”

I ask you now to show me what you experienced, and from there I will render my judgment.

Silence falls over the hall once more, though it takes on a puzzled note this time. Though from the moment the goddess used the word show, not tell, Chan understood. And so did you.

The blood seems to have drained from your face, leaving a sick pallor to your skin as you rise to your feet. You hide it well, but Chan notices the trembling in your legs, the legs you still don’t fully trust after having had them broken several times on purpose—legs still riddled with phantom pains and tremors that you have tried to hide but couldn’t fully.

Chan, I don’t want to dance anymore.

But the goddess said show. And the deities of this world understand nothing more than the magic woven into their own art.

As heads remain bowed around him, Chan dares to raise his own. Meet your eyes.

And smile.

You don’t smile. Not really. But as Chan holds your gaze, he watches as the fear in your eyes hardens, then mellows slightly into something a little warmer, a little softer. Your teeth that had been worrying the inside of your lip disengage, and your shoulders fall back as you step forward. The crowds of nobles scurry backward, heads rising in curiosity, but Chan remains where he is, his eyes never leaving yours, your eyes never leaving his.

Slowly, you raise one graceful arm, painting sadness, despair, and resolution into the air.

“As you wish, my lady.”

. . .

Years later, Chan is sure someone—a friend, a child, a grandchild—will ask him what he saw that day, the day the princess danced her story, the story upon which every Moonlight Festival dance would be based upon in the years after. But even as they ask, he knows that he will never be able to answer, because he could never put the sight before him into spoken word.

There is no music in the room, save for the hushed breath of those who still kneel, and the alternate patter and thud of your footsteps against the floor. There is no pomp, no cheer, no festival at hand for which you dance. But as you spin and leap and whirl across marble tiles, weaving emotion into the air, Chan understands, truly, what art means. How it is transcends the word spoken by the lips, how it brings new meaning to life.

Fear, when you first found yourself in the palace of hell. Despair, as you danced night after night with the king to whom your father had promised you away, unable to find a plan of escape. Desperation as days passed and no one came to find you.

You lock eyes with Chan as you whirl to a stop in front of him, just for a moment, your hand outstretched to brush his cheek. As you turn away, the spot burns with the hope he gave you, smothered when the king nearly caught him before he could escape, but still burning, still there, even as you collapse to the floor with the pain of the king snapping your legs, one by one.

A gasp ripples through the room as you rise, unsteady, face drawn tight and pained. With jerky movements you tell of your despair, dancing around the room almost mechanically as you would have with the king every night he healed your pain only for his entertainment. But finally, after three nights of such torture, you turn back to Chan and before anyone can say a word, you pull him forward—squeeze his hands—

Tears brim in your eyes and his as you begin to lead him in the figures you danced to leave the kingdom of hell.

Clasped in your arms, Chan follows your footsteps, guided by your trembling arms that grow steadier, stronger, as you lead him across the floor. And when you emerge from the darkness, trembling and exhausted but that hope still growing stronger and stronger in your heart—

Abject terror as you confront the man who had hurt you so badly, and then disgust and relief as you watched him die.

Your eyes and his are not the only ones filled with tears by the time you stop, panting, one arm held out to the open windows and the sky. And as you lower it slowly, slowly, to intertwine your fingers with his once more, he looks at you, and you look at him, and no one says a word when you fold into each other, two hearts trembling, beating as one.

One clap breaks the silence in the room. Then two. But even as the marble hall erupts into muted applause, you and Chan don’t move. Only when the goddess’s voice again echoes off the walls do you finally step apart.

I have seen, my chosen. I thank you for your bravery.

You bow, eyes cast down to the floor.

I render my judgment.

Chan’s stomach seizes with anxiety. Your hand finds his and you grip each other tightly.

The princess, my chosen, has suffered beyond compare. Terpischore’s words pound through the hall, cold and furious. She suffered for one man’s folly and arrogance. Her own father’s.

Every eye in the room turns to the king, who still stands, red-faced, at the front of the room.

I am fair in my judgment. I understand he…attempted to act in the best interests of the kingdom. However abominable his plan was. Chan can almost see the invisible goddess’s lips twist in the air. But the reason does not excuse the action. And for that, I accept the princess’s decision to leave behind the throne, in the face of this injustice.

Your grip on his hand tightens.

But as you are my chosen, I give you a chance to reconsider your choice. I will accept the decision you make, but hear my hand first.

Bang Chan.

Chan freezes. Tries to swallow. Tries to breathe. Steps forward. “Yes, my lady.”

Commoner. Cobbler.

He swallows. “Yes.”

Bravest of all those who stand here today, save for the princess who stands by your side.

Perhaps he’s hallucinating, but Chan thinks—maybe—that if the goddess wished to show her face, she might be smiling.

I bestow upon you the gift you have earned in helping save the life of one of my chosen.

Chan blinks. Blinks again. The gift.

Something settles on his forehead—cool, icy, then warm, so warm. It melts down, down, his body trembling with warmth that runs through his skin and into his veins, traveling through his blood until it tickles the tips of his toes—

It is true that one who does not have the gift cannot sit on the throne. The goddess’s voice, edged with disdain, once again addresses the king. But the one you tried to bar from the seat now has it. A stronger gift than even you.

If Chan weren’t trying to wrap his mind around what just happened, he might laugh at the king’s expression. But it—it doesn’t make sense—this gift, what gift does the goddess speak of—

What just happened?

“You have our gift now.” Suddenly warm hands have taken his again, turned him around to face a pair of eyes that sparkle and shine with the shimmer of a thousand jewels. “Chan, you have our gift.”

Our gift. Our gift.

And suddenly, he understands.

He has your gift. A gift bestowed by the goddess, the mother of the kingdom’s magic—he has been blessed by her hand, and now—

He has the same gift of magic as you.

My chosen.

You look up. “My lady.”

Will you still accept your position upon the throne with your favored by your side?

Chan almost cries when you squeeze his hands just before letting go. “A thousand times, yes.”

Then come forward and reclaim your crown.

An invisible force lifts the circlet of jewels, diamonds and gold glittering in the sunlight as you kneel, head bowing forward. The crown comes to rest upon your head once more, and the hall takes a collective breath.

Do not disappoint me.

You look up, a light smile playing on your lips. “I won’t.”

The force of the goddess falls from the hall, leaving behind a curious emptiness in its wake. Chan blinks—it all feels like a dream—but there you are, kneeling on the floor with the crown on your brow, and he can still feel magic curling warm in his veins.

He glances at the king, who looks ready to explode. But where the vision once might have made him tremble, Chan finds himself beginning to fight off a laugh.

You meet his gaze. Glance briefly at your father, a smile tugging at your lips as you stand once more, shoes clicking on the ground. Your hand finds his and the smile grows and grows, splitting your face as joy sparkles in your eyes—

“You once promised that you wouldn’t leave me behind,” you say. Your voice echoes in the hall but for all Chan cares the world only consists of the two of you right now, you and your smile and the way he can’t tear his eyes from your face.

The smile widens.

“I promise you now that I won’t either.”

. . . . .

Compared to other royal weddings, yours is a simple one, just a quiet ceremony conducted in the palace gardens under the setting sun. Some nobility and foreign royalty fill a couple requisite rows of seats, but occupying the placements up front are your and Chan’s families and friends. Unfortunately, this does include your father, but you pay him little heed from where you stand at the altar, waiting for Chan to arrive.

The rose gold sunset seems to glow around Chan’s face when he appears at the end of the garden, dressed in all the silks and satins befitting a soon to be prince consort. But you don’t process his finery so much as you process the expression on his face—a certain softness in his eyes that you’ve learned, over the past few months, is reserved only for you.

Truth be told, you don’t remember much of the ceremony. It’s mostly a blur—the officiant’s voice, the garden’s greenery, the wind tousling Chan’s hair and the love in his eyes that makes you feel so safe, so warm. The only part you’re really aware of comes towards the end of the wedding, when the two parties spin each other once under the flowered archway. Hands joined, you raise your arm to let Chan spin once under the peonies and roses. After that, it’s his turn to spin you, but he pauses.

You haven’t danced much since you returned from Kereseia. It’s caused some gossip in the court, but when you and Yeji began to further spread the truthful rumor that the Kereseian king had broken both of your legs to keep you from escaping, only to heal you every night he wanted entertainment, the whispers died a bit. That’s not the full reason, though. You don’t quite understand it yourself. Yes, sometimes tremors travel up your legs and you still find yourself stepping gingerly as though your bones haven’t quite healed, but it's also that every time you think of some nameless, faceless person taking your hand and leading you into the figures of a dance, you feel sick. Terrified.

You hate it. Because it feels like the Kereseian king has won even though he’s dead, taken away your love and passion for something that was and has always been part of your blood. But you can’t help it, and so it just keeps hurting.

Chan knows. You’ve told him about it more than once, cried to him about it, even. He was there when you broke down before your escape. He was there when you told him, point blank, you didn’t want to dance anymore. He’s also the only one whose arms you feel comfortable staying in for the duration of a dance, though it’s still harder for you to follow than it is to lead.

When Chan pauses before he honors the wedding tradition, you’re confused, for a moment. The officiant looks between the two of you with a furrowed brow. But Chan only looks at you, and in his eyes, he asks a question.

Is this okay?

You almost start to cry right then and there. For during a wedding that you broke tradition to have, Chan is willing to break tradition just so that you can feel safe.

Holding back tears, you nod. And as you turn once under the canopy of flowers overhead, you feel something melt out of your chest, some icy block of fear dissipating into the air.

The vows come after, spoken softly just as the sun touches the horizon, pink and purple light streaking into the sky. “I promise I will never leave you behind,” you say, voice unsteady with tears, and Chan echoes the sentiment, his own words choked. The officiant pronounces you married and amidst the applause of the small audience you kiss, his lips warm and soft and gentle like the sunset.

Afterward, in the grand ballroom, you do dance a little. Not much, and never with anyone but Chan or your sisters, but it’s fun in a way you haven’t felt dancing to be in a long time and by the end of the night, while you’re certainly tired, you feel content. Happy. Enough that you can smile wide and true as you bow out of the ballroom, even as your father’s sullen stare attempts to pierce your body as you turn away.

The silent bedroom provides a welcome contrast to the noise of the ballroom, where you’re certain people are still dancing even though you and Chan have retired for the night. You sit on the bed, soaking in the quiet while Chan washes his face in the bathroom.

He emerges quietly, like he doesn't want to disturb your peace. “Hi,” he says shyly as he sits down next to you. A small smile of your own crosses your lips and you have to fight the urge to giggle. After so many years of yearning in quiet, it still seems surreal that you’re allowed to love each other openly, without issue, but you're sure he feels the same way. Emboldened by this, you lean into him, pressing your face into his shoulder, and just breathe for a moment. “Hi, yourself,” you mumble, voice muffled into his skin.

Outside, the moon has risen, full and bright and glowing in the dark sky. When you pull your face out of Chan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, you seem to see the stars reflected in them, and the words slip out of your lips suddenly, softly, hanging in the air.

“Dance with me, Chan?”

His eyes flicker from startled to confused to concerned all in a second. “Of course,” he replies, “but are you sure?”

Are you? You search yourself for the answer. True, you haven’t danced much in a while. True, you haven’t wanted to dance with a partner that you didn’t know since you returned from the underground. But it is also true that this all stems from an issue of trust—an inability to trust your legs, an inability to trust your faceless partner, an inability to trust that the scars from Kereseia have fully healed.

And it is true that you trust Chan, enough to give yourself to him.

A smile flutters over your expression. “I am,” you say, taking his hands. “Dance with me.”

You haven’t changed yet, haven’t even slipped off your shoes. Which means that, as you let Chan lead you into the slow figures of a waltz, you are still wearing the dancing slippers he made for you as a wedding gift, the most beautiful pair you have ever owned. Today is the first time you’ve worn them, and even after the dances you took on the ballroom floor, they are so comfortable that your feet still don’t hurt.

Every night, in the kingdom of Kereseia, you wore out one pair of slippers during the Midnight Ball. You don’t plan to do much of the same here. But privately, you think, you wouldn’t mind dancing the night away with Chan, if it was just you and him under a blanket of stars. Because you trust him, and he trusts you, and you would never hesitate in his hold, knowing that he will never bring you harm.

“I love you, Y/N,” Chan murmurs, and his voice sounds like music in the air. A melody upon which you could and will dance to for as long as you live.

You sway in his hold, a smile growing on your face. “I love you too, Chan.”

Always, and forevermore.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

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confused-since-birth · 2 months ago

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Shape of the unknown part 3

Hello! :) This, I think, is the last part of the series. I've been thinking about an epilogue, but not sure. Hope you all will enjoy it

It's not proofread so ignore the mistakes you'll find please :)

genre: angst

warnings: blood, suffering, death, weapons, the plot is not the same as in the game, reader is not mc

word count: 1444 (aprox)

summary: It doesn't matter how much you try to escape fate, it will always find a way to come true. All you can do is hope this is the first and last time Sylus and you go through this.

When interpreting prophecies things are never what they seem. Dreams and premonitions always have loopholes. They all are symbolic, rarely should be taken word for word. Many nights and days should be spent thinking of the true meaning and how you get in the point where they become true. Stars and planets, pleading to the gods, herbs or cards sometimes help.

In the deep of night, one doesn’t know that killing is not entirely about a body, one sharpens their sword, washing it with tears, caught between love and duty. The third finally hears the mocking laugh of fate and can no longer cry, for the flames cannot be stopped anymore. Begging will do nothing to stop the wheels of future from tugging them towards their anguish.

Your mistake was getting tangled in this mess. But how it could’ve been prevented? The gods laughed in your face since the very start.

Days go by in a rush. Moon or sun, you don’t know, nor feel it. Sylus’ calls go unanswered. The faces around you are blurred, your hands seem someone else’s. Visions of flames, blood and destruction weaken your body.

At first, you’re confused what are your feelings truly. Sadness is long overdue, making place for anger – hot and heavy. Silence turns from protection to a weapon against him.

After hearing your hundred refusal, Sylus has had enough. He couldn't understand what could’ve made you so apprehensive, going so far as to deny him your presence for weeks. His wings bore him to your balcony in a hurry.

The night sky had no clouds, the moon shining over the city. A slight breeze made its way into your room awakening goosebumps on your skin, making it more difficult to light candles than it already was with a shaky hand. Suddenly the sound of wings scares you, dropping the matches on the ground. A familiar face welcomes your tired eyes. Beautiful as ever, Sylus makes his way in your room. The dancing light of a few candles you got to light makes his face look sharp and his blood red eyes piercing.

“Out”, is all that comes from your chapped lips, returning to your attempts to light more candles.

His stare becomes sharper, brows closing in. A small growl can be heard before a clawed hand grabs your wrist. Sylus’ tall form exudes danger and your body instinctively gets defensive, smaller, trying to set your wrist free.

Taking a better look at your face he can see deep dark circles around your pretty eyes, your hair is unbrushed, the attempts to free your hand are weak. Your form seems so sickly.

Under his stare you feel naked. The thin dark blue dress you wore to bed didn’t help either. Suddenly, the room seems too cold.

“Why am I no longer welcome?” his voice whispers, eyes searching for yours in almost a desperate manner.

“You should head back to her.”

“Jealous, my love?” he smirks, trying to hide his hurt.

Truth be told, you were jealous, but this wasn’t the problem. You would give up on love if it meant that your beloved could be happy. There was no sacrifice you wouldn’t do for him. The problem was that you knew that the same could not be told about her. No matter how much the sorceress loved him, she was meant to betray him in the end. There was no rivalry between the two of you, just the promise of tragedy that hanged over your heads. The sorceress didn’t want you to mess with her plans and you didn’t know how could you stop the disaster anyway. It was a divine comedy.

But what you didn’t understand was why – for the love of gods – did he amuse her? Only to come back to you? Why is he putting salt in a wound you try so hard to close?

“If I’m a fun thing to you, you must know it’s not the same for me, Sylus. I’m not a cow’s bone and you a dog to keep picking me up only when you want to fool around”, you say battling with your heart, knowing how the words will affect him.

For a moment the anger in your eyes shocks him, the words hitting him like a ton of bricks. In his hundreds, thousand of years of existing did he feel so lonely, cold and hurt. What could he say back? Thinking for a second about the last months, realization came upon him. While he tried sheltering you, loving you, diverting the sorceress’ attention, trying to change the story, all he achieved was turning you against him.

Once again, what could he say to you when he himself pushed you to misunderstand him?

The tears in your eyes broke him. He cursed himself and all he could do was leave, while the wind carried your whimpers of pain and suffering to him almost all night.

Sylus knew that if he didn’t amuse the girl, her eyes would eventually turn to you, and in trying to reach him, who knows what she could’ve done to you. The curse surrounding a dragon and his beloved hanging in the back of his mind didn’t help soothing his worries. Only to realize that he killed your heart, completely shattered it.

His eyes closed, warm, angry tears from under his eyelashes, feeling through the string between you two that he wasn’t alone in his pain. The thought of you, crying, begging the gods to take the suffering from you, crushed him. Now he understands the pain he felt burning in his chest while he took the sorceress for a flight.

It was too late anyway. All he has to do now, is await death, wishing that you would be spared by fate.

But fate was cruel.

You knew that the Legion was on its way to Tarus. All the letters you sent, asking other Temples and cities to help the people of Tarus to leave went unanswered. A million of questions swirled around in your head – how and why there was no answer? Not even the closest of your friends, in the furthest point of the continent, dared to help you? It didn’t make sense. They promised to send help if it was needed, after all, your own novices, doctors and sorceresses were sent there when they needed it. Why wouldn’t they reciprocate? Was the mail actually never delivered?

This seemed more like the case, as for the last three weeks not only mail seemed to be problematic, but also trades.

After five more days, the sky turned dark red. Smoke filled the air, as the Legion reached Tarus. Blood poured like rivers, screams were the only thing that could be heard. A true disaster was unfolding. The regret of not being able to help the kids you had to assist being born, the elderly your hands tried to take the pain of, all those people, now dying. Why? For not being privileged. The excuse? The existence of a big bad monster near Tarus that was seemingly hidden and helped by the people.

However, a wave of guilt washes over you as the only thing that seems important in this moment is reaching Sylus. You need to see him at least one last time, maybe, even though it’s impossible, you’ll save him. Then you two can fly somewhere far away, live a peaceful life.

As you reach a field outside the city, your eyes fall on two figures. Your lungs are burning after running all this way, only to see your lover, your dragon, being stabbed in his chest, falling to his knees. A shriek escapes your lips, hands covering your mouth. No, no, no, we have to run, we have to leave, no, no, no…

As your eyes meet, pain shoots through your back and chest. His eyes open in horror. Looking down you see the arrow plunged into your heart.

He hissed and moaned in pain when he couldn’t run to you as the sword in his chest was pushed a little deeper by the girl. Her back was turned to you, even though you could hear a small whimper – she was crying.

When you close your eyes, the only hope that is in your heart is to never wake again – not now, not tomorrow, not in another life. Everything that you’ve seen, heard and had to do were more than enough for the rest of the eternity. Perhaps, you and Sylus may find one another in the afterlife. Perhaps death will be kinder to you and your love than life was. As your last breath exits your body, the sound of crying and regret can be heard growing louder.

Then there’s nothing.

#sylus #fanfic #love and deepspace #sylus lads #sylus love and deepspace #sylus qin #sylus x reader #x reader #reader insert #lads

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mitsundere · 8 months ago

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as an avid rofan enjoyer ur so right about gepard being 2nd ml coded 😭 HE'S SUCH A PERFECT FIT he would be suspicious of fl at first (if they first meet like mc did in jarilo) but then warm up to her and become friends and then she'd show him how to take care of himself and not be such a workaholic and maybe they meet by chance when he patrols omfg the possibilities...and then gepard realizes way late he has a crush (and he's at a disadvantage bc he isn't a black haired cold duke of the north who the fl is in an arranged marriage with) and he blushes sm around her even though he knows perfectly well how to be chivalrous he just makes more mistakes and blanks out....and tries to grow flowers that remind him of her...but keeps his distance bc she's married and gets heartbroken when he sees fl and cold duke growing closer and closer </3 (i yapped a little sorry lmao) i can count on one hand the manhwas with mls that remind me of him and that's something that needs to change Right Now

YOU GET MEEEE he drowns himself in his work again to try and distract himself, but he's still clearly affected by it 💔 when he overworks himself, he gets reminded of the FL's concern for him and he just. suffers more. like i'm gonna need to get isekai'd or something to help mend his broken heart (another trope i adore /coughs)...

imagine him with a person he's never met before, showering him in so much love and affection.. he wouldn't know what to do!!! gepard is still the polite nobleman that he is, but his politeness keeps people at a distance rather than pull them towards him (which is understandable since everyone in the nation knows about his recent heartbreak). yet this person keeps approaching him. constantly asks about his day, how he's feeling, etc. and even offers to try doing his work for him just to ease the burden off his shoulders.

and it works. the servants are the first to notice the change, then his sisters, and gepard is the last person to realize that his chest doesn't hurt as much anymore, or he isn't feeling as exhausted as usual.

over time, he started avoiding the garden he loved so much because it brought about painful memories of him and the FL. the one time he visits it again, he sees that person watering the flowers that reminded him of the FL. they don't notice him, but he has the opportunity to see the way the morning sun shines on their disheveled hair and blessing their cheeks with warmth. the dirt on their garments. the silly little tune they hummed and the gentle smile on their face—

gepard knows this feeling blooming in his chest all too well, and for the first time in months, he doesn't mind being in this garden again

#i kind of maybe ummmmmm GOTTEN CARRIED AWAY #but yes 2nd ml gepard and his road to healing we love that for him #it's funny how he has all the potential to become a cold duke of the north (yknow jarilo vi and stuff) but he isnt #he's more like the captain of the royal guard.. and he is in canon technically!#or maybe a prince. a hero #whatever i just *tv static noise*#thank you for sharing this i went into full brainrot mode you are a godsend #answered #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #gepard x reader #gepard landau #reader insert #kinda #my writing

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freshlyrage · 1 year ago

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 16

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.8k

a/n: OMG babes I'm sorry about the wait. I moved back onto campus and wheww they are working my little english major butt. Heres this little update, dont jump me. Hopefully you can forgive me because we're getting like 3 chapters of New Orleans content so... any way enjoy

His body still limp over yours; you feel a rush of nerves run up your spine. Burying your face into the space between his shoulder and neck. Perfectly fit. “Javi!” You whisper. His own chuckles dying at the slow realization of how fucked they are. He’s silent for a bit as you two breath slowly in sync. Shutting your eyes tightly half hoping this part of the night is a nightmare.

“Fuck…” He groans before flopping on his back next to you. The image is dirty too, still in pants but his half hard length exposed sweaty–and you, bare from the waist down.

The circling thoughts of all the ways this could ruin you runs its course in the silence before you begin to panic. Sitting up in bed quickly, grabbing your pillow to conceal him. Javier sighs as if he doesn't have a care in the world. What are we going to do? What are we going to do? “What are we going to do?” You whisper, bringing your knees to your chest. Your eyes nearly blur as you are still coming down from your orgasm.

He’s silent, panting still. You could hear your mom in the living room scattering things around. Your chest heaves with each noise she makes, Javier brings his palm flat on your knee, thumb stroking its side. “We’ll come up with something, I’ll leave once we know she’s asleep.”

“She’s going to catch on when I have to explain to her in a few days that I’m catching a ride with you to Louisiana.” You whisper yell, that thought already cripled you since your bath. How in the world were you going to do this? You were so high off of being bathed and fucked by Javi that you hadn’t thought of how to execute this mini vacation and now? He stirs in his bliss, the perfectly placed pillow concealing him falls to the floor. You look at his waist, groaning, you reach to grab him, he responds in a stomach pitting hiss. You narrow your eyes at him and tuck him back into his boxers.

Why is he so calm? How is this not the biggest deal to him? He smirks watching your mind race.

“Something funny?” You snap in the quietest tone possible. And he keeps on that sly little side smile, the mustache doesn’t help the sexiness of it, you’d kiss him in his stupid face if you weren’t panicking inside. He shakes his head, making no effort to sit up and level with you. He just watches your worry. “What.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Your eyes widen, the tips of your ears red hot. You bring your brows in a small pull and a frown, feeling so shy under his gaze. Eyes closed for a moment, he sits up and kisses the line of worry between your brows. His hands holding your cheek. “Javi.” You groan.

He ignores you and kisses your temple, “You’ll tell Melissa I parked the car here,” he kisses your cheekbone next. “And walked to the bar, in case I needed someone sober to drive me home.” His hand moves down to your neck and just above the plane of bone exposed in your tank top. And finally gripping your breast, lips on your ear, “The bar is only a 4 minute walk from here, it was the smartest idea for me. I did it once in high school, remember?”

Your mouth parts and his thumb grazes over your sensitive nipple. Your brows screw tighter and surprisingly, “No-no I don’t remember.” The idea of him holding onto a memory just like you fills your chest with something unfamiliar. Nails grazing his shoulders, “You’re so touchy.”

He mumbles a complaint before pressing his lips to the side of your face again, “After homecoming, do you remember?”

October 21st 1979

Lorraine hated the color blue on him anyway.

When Javier profusely apologized to his girl about homecoming dance or lack thereof, she had sighed and turned her head out the car window. She wasn’t able to accept the idea, the thought of her exclusive partner choosing to keep the company of his best friend's sister instead of showing up to a dance they were made to go together.

It was a big deal for Lorraine. She had just lost her virginity to Javi and he had called her his girlfriend to his dad just a week before. Homecoming was meant to be them showing themselves to the world. Javier on the other hand couldn’t care for the approval or acknowledgment of others. If people asked, he’d tell them.

So he apologizes with a hand on her knee. There is no right way to tell her, to explain to her why Javier picked you over her that night. He couldn't tell her that the thought of you being upset makes him sick in some twisted overprotective way. He can't say those things, not to someone who liked him so much. He can't say that to her because he also liked her just as much.

“I forgive you.” She sniffles, her tear stained nose pointed towards the door. Her blue manicure scraping his knuckles. The color matching the tie he had planned to wear, his chest tightened.

He hadn’t regretted the night. Telling you the truth, being there for you after being humiliated. He’s known you since you were young, he had developed that need to be in your corner at all times. No one ever was. But, he should’ve called Lorraine, he should’ve told her. She’s understanding, kind, she would have offered to come over and help the situation because that’s just who she was.

Javier hadn’t called, and shoved deep down in a space too uncomfortable to reach he made the decision not to rather than forgetting. The shameful hope that maybe the fast moving relationship would crash and that fleeting thought made him feel awful. That was the first time he had looked at you, in your pretty dress and felt more scared than he’s ever felt in his entire life.

His voice dying in his throat the second he saw the way you learned to cry. Quietly, wiping your face with the back of your palm, trying to hide any evidence of discomfort.

Lorraine cried differently, head turned away but she lets herself go. She doesn’t apologize like you do, she cries and doesn’t wipe away the evidence.

“You forgive me?” Disbelief and shameful disappointment lacing his voice crack.

It’s silent again but she nods. “You’re not allowed to go to the bar for the rest of the year.”

Javier chuckled, his thumb brushing her knuckle. She faces him now, cheeks still wet. Her blonde hair pulled in a low pony, she was just so classically beautiful. Javier felt silly in her presence, there was no way people thought he was up to her standard. “I’m seventeen.”

She scoffs, “I know you go to the bar on fridays, they let you in. Josie saw your truck there last weekend”

She was right. “How’d she know it was me, it could've been my dad.” He teases, internally wincing knowing this isn’t the time. He had been sort of caught. After being away at the youth academy he had frequented the bars, the small habit urged on when he came home. Despite the owner very well knowing who Javi was and his age, they still let him in. So he’d grab a drink or two and drive home. It was a part of his new routine here, maybe he was escaping something, maybe he hoped his mom would walk through the bar doors. It was no coincidence he only sat in at The Tap, the bar his mother frequented in the late years before she left him.

“I know your dad doesn't drink, I’m not joking. It isn't safe to drive like that.” She brushes her hair out of her face, frowning at him so slightly. Javier nods in agreement.

“Is it that you don't want me to go or you don't want me to drive there?”

He was being a hardass he knows, he must have gotten it from his mom because Chucho would never talk back to his woman. He knows the answer, he knows that the question will rile up Lorraine. And still somewhere far in his chest is the desire to argue so much that he can find a way out of this.

Lorraine’s cheeks flush red like it does when she’s angry, she looks out the window for a moment like she’s wondering if what she’s about to say next is appropriate.

“It isn't healthy. You need to deal with the loss of your mother in better ways.”

Javier’s chest caved in on itself, the tips of his own ears getting hot. His gaze quickly averted from every part of Lorraine's face to see if she was serious, if he had heard her correctly. No one knew the details about Flaca, not even Frankie, not you. All you and your brother know is that she had left when Javier was little, she wasn't around when you met him and he never seemed bothered. It always seemed like a nonissue. “My mother isn't dead.” Javi snaps, impulsively reaching for his car keys. He needed to drop Lorraine off before this conversation goes any further.

“I know-” Her hand is quicker as she grabs the keys before him. “Your father told me she used to go to that bar, he pointed it out when we had dinner last week.”

“Give me the keys, you're going home.”

Lorraine flares her nostrils and moves the key further, “No Javi. Talk to me, I don't know anything about your childhood, about your mom, about what you do when we’re not together. I know you have abandonment issues I understand-”

Javier cuts her off, “Jesus christ.” Something strange thrums in his chest, an urge– an urge to cry. An urge he hasnt felt in years, this is fucked.

“Don't scoff like I’m crazy, it's why you do all this shit! It's why you left me stranded on homecoming, you're trying to avoid this commitment. Avoid us, this. ”

There it is.

“Jesus- I literally told you I had to help Andrea out stop changing the topic–why the fuck would you bring my mother into-”

“No lets talk about it, your weird fucking obsession with that girl. Acting like she’s completely off limits, freaking out because I introduced myself to her. You told me you two were not even close! You said you stopped being friends when you went away last year, go figure.” She laughs dryly. Javier’s blood runs dry, facing forward and shutting his mouth. “Abandoning your life for a year because of what? The academy? Give me a break.” They had bickered but nothing like this, he hadn't seen this side of Lorraine. Using something as personal as his mother to feed into something as stupid as homecoming. “She was rude to me at the game and you let it slide, if you’re in love with that girl just fucking spare me. I have no interest in competing against a girl like that.”

Like that.

He takes a breath before continuing. He needed to be rational.He feared any reaction would reveal some truth in her fear. In love with her, it made the strangest knot in his stomach. He had barely interacted with you in the past year. There was no way. Sure he cares for you, a lot, maybe too much. Maybe you consume more of his thoughts than he’d like to admit. Maybe when the two of you were younger he thought you were the sweetest thing to walk this earth but the 2 year gap felt larger than life then. Maybe he’s just confused seeing you older, mature, prettier and maybe he can't stand seeing you be with anyone else. Maybe he misses being around you right now. Just maybe, maybe when Lorraine brought up his mother he felt a sense of dread, she knows something you don't and why does that feel so wrong?

“It isn't like that, just–just please give me the keys Lorraine.”

Without a word she complies and Javier takes her home without a goodbye.

He drives aimlessly for another hour, around town. He passes where he met you by the bikes all those years ago. He remembers those stupid overalls you wore religiously. He passes your moms boutique, the soft lighting of the shop reflecting on the puddle outside the stoop. And he passes the bar his girlfriend had just banished him from, he's urged to enter it more than ever. Spend a few dead presidents on something to distract him from the unsettling feeling of… he wasn't sure.

And fuck it, he drives straight to your house. He wasn't sure when his brain started registering it as your house and not his best friend Frankie’s house but he makes the left and heads up the small hill where your home sat perched in all its glory. An empty driveway and a soft glow coming from the curtains. He remembers waiting outside your door waiting for you to enter safely on hot summer nights.

He parks, eyes skating at the cash in his cup holder, he could leave his truck here and walk to the bar from here. Just in case of course, in case someone catches his truck. His mouth dries when his eye catches the bracelet that belongs to his girlfriend, the word sounding wrong in his own head. He needs a drink.

Javier’s boots crunch on the–no, your driveway was paved, your mother thought dirt driveways were a messy disgrace. He had been so used to having to lay his shoes on the porch in order to be allowed into his own home.

He knocks, it’ll probably be Frankie answering the door if he isn't somewhere bothering his girlfriend. But after only a few seconds he hears you giggling behind the door and Javier finds himself forming a smile before you even reach the knob. The door swings open and-

“Jesus christ what's on your face?” He blurts a bit too loud, your eyes widen and somehow through the mess on your face you turn beat red. Your hand is flying to cover your face.

On your face are red spots at the apple of your cheeks, brows glued down with a thin pencil line mimicking an eyebrow, lips red lined dark and those fake eyelashes Diana Ross wears.

The back of your palm is covered in lines of makeup, browns, blues and yellows. And to top it all off you're in a large shirt and slippers. “Javi–what are you doing here? Oh my god” You shriek, looking over your shoulder still hiding your face.

Javier can't help but feel a warmth spread through his chest at the sight while something else in him scolds himself for reacting so rudely. “Sorry I was wondering if I could leave my car here for a bit–what-you don't have to keep covering your face I already saw it.” Javier steps up onto the highest ledge and peers over your shoulder, your new friend Liandra coming up behind.

“Javi! What a nice surprise, I was practicing my stage makeup for Cabaret on Drea, come in!” She urges, and Andrea swiftly drops her hand shooting a glance at her friend with makeup brushes in her hand. Feeling out of place and rather creepy imposing on your sleepover he shakes his head gives you a glance you can only read as, let's talk alone.

You catch on dismissing yourself for a moment and closing the front door behind you, the light cutting away into the darkness of the night surrounding the two of you. It was a bit chilly for you to be out here, he promised himself he won't keep you long. The two of you haven't spoken since he kept you company last weekend while you detailed your tiny anxieties and insecurities, how you held so much in that tiny body of yours is beyond him. He felt that weird stupid primal instinct of protectiveness when thinking of you being so torn down by the jokes of pathetic men. He hasn't spoken to you in school the following week, attempting to keep you far away from Lorraine. That would have just added salt to the open wound, he wanted a do over. Maybe when they were better together he could properly introduce the two, put out whatever fire Lorraine believes to be between the two of them.

But you looked exceptionally beautiful in this light, even with your face painted. And a thought like that isn’t okay. Not when your brother could be in the house or heading home.

Your lips quirk into a small grin, he had been staring this whole time forgetting to speak. “Sorry for this,” You wave a hand over your face, “I was doing Liandra a favor. Didn’t mean for my face to scare you much.”

Javier’s stupid heart skips a beat, “You didn't scare me.”

You shake your head and bite the inside of your lip, who are you, Javi thinks, when did I start to feel like this?

“Sure, just next time when you bump into me bare faced dont scream, it might hurt my feelings.”

Javi finds no humor in your self depreciation, not after last saturday. Haven't you known? You were so pretty it hurt him bone deep. He’d tell you over and over if it was appropriate but instead he dissents. Looking behind him at the hill that leads to town, to the bar, it was getting dark.

“Is your brother home? Mom?”

You cross your arms in suspicion, “My mom is staying late doing inventory at the store and Frankie is staying at Genies, doing… whatever they do.” You grimace for a split second thinking of your brother and his second year of the honeymoon phase with his girlfriend. “You need to leave your car here, why is everything okay?”

A small line of worry folds between your brows and like always it causes his stomach to flip. What's gotten into him?

“Everythings fine, I just planned to get a few drinks at the bar and didn't want to bring my dads truck in the line of sight of all the nosy people in town.”

You get that judgy look in your eye you gave him whenever you’d watch him smoke weed in the basement, “You’re 17, why don't you just go out and drink with your friends.”

“Got an issue with me going to the bar?”

“No.” You did, at the time your stomach had been in knots at the thought of him doing something so adult, he never felt more out of reach than in that moment. “I don't, so what, you're gonna walk up here drunk and drive home. Not happening.”

Bossy, Javier’s eyes fall to the ground trying to hide the spark in his eyes. What the fuck is happening, he’s blushing like a schoolboy at fucking Andrea. “I was hoping If I was too wasted you could just call me a cab.”

“And if I’m not awake?” You stayed awake the whole time, worried about him.

“I’ll throw a rock at your window, last resort. I rarely get drunk anyway, you can assess the situation.”

You're silent for a moment, your own done up eyes falling to your bunny slippers. You frown for a moment, conspiring all of the ways this could go wrong. Before sighing, “Sure. Be safe or whatever.”

Javier watches you step away and enter the house again. His hand rising to his chest to try to subside the rapid beating behind it. Why is this happening to me? Wasn’t I angry 30 minutes ago?

He hears you and your friend let out girlish laughs and for a moment he considers knocking again. Forget the whole thing, just spend time with you instead, it was probably healthier. It would have made him feel better for the moment. But he knew he couldn't do that, how would he explain that to Lorraine.

Yeah after we argued about Andrea, I went directly to her house to make myself feel better, will you still have me Lorraine?

Surely not.

“No wonder I blocked that from my memory, I looked horrendous.”

“You looked cute. Like a flapper from the 20s.” He whispers, since the beginning of the story it seemed your mother had gotten in bed. The two of you stayed quiet anyway, holding onto each other under the covers. Your cheeks crimson at him describing the memory in detail. You hadn't known Lorraine had such a bad taste of you from the start, when you had been introduced to her as his girlfriend just a month later she had been so kind, like she had been on homecoming night.

And to bring up his mother in the petty argument…you wished you knew how to react.

You simply knew close to nothing about his mom, to you he made it seem so insignificant. You wished you had known he left to the bar to feed into his unhealthy habit of hoping maybe she’d walk in, if you had known you would have forced Liandra to do that stage makeup on his face. Keep him away from that cycle of grief.

“Do you remember how you showed up later?” You ask, his retelling brought every detail of that night back to the forefront of your brain. The sweetness of each interaction when he stumbled tipsy to your front door a few hours later ringing in your ears.

Javier shuts his eyes, “I don't actually, I got a bit drunk huh?”

You giggle, “Yeah… you did.” You just couldn't believe you had forgotten about it, it wasn't like you.

Javier drops his head in the crook of your neck in boyish embarrassment, “Jesus christ.”

It was 11pm, you were starting to worry that your mother would come home early and unload questions about the situation. Liandra was long gone and so was your painted face. Just you and a bouncing knee as you tried to occupy yourself with a rerun of Different Strokes season 1. Your hair was in its slightly overgrown phase of the layers Genie cut for you in August, pulled in a high ponytail. Face paint still in small dusty crusts on the front strands of your hair, you'd consider another shower if you weren't waiting for a knock.

“You showed up so late, I was afraid my mom would catch us and tell Frankie.” You tell Javi as you stare at the vanity you used to get ready on every morning before school.

Javi sighed, sounds familiar.

Javier knocked half past 11, you sprung to your feet and opened the door. You almost want to laugh thinking of how Javier looked with no mustache, baby faced and glossy eyed. You stare at the grown men next to you and your heart swells at the thought of knowing him for so long.

I’m drunk, he states the second you open the door. Your brows shooting high, Should I call you a cab? You ask, closing the door behind you. Your eyes switch to his fathers truck and back to him. Javier pulls his lips together in a drunk disagreeing pout.

Would you let me sleep here?

Your heart leaps in your chest, how you wished you could have let him. You were only fifteen then and you protected that small fantasy of being with him, forever, taking care of someone. You wished to just let him in and put him to bed, take care of the boy you had such a crush on.

It's a funny thing, just 6 months later it was him taking care of your drunken body.

“I wanted to let you stay.” You tell Javi now, your gaze caught on his side profile under the lowlights of your room. His jaw tightens and the urge to move closer, to kiss him goes bone deep. “I didn't know about your mom, I should have let you stay.”

Javier shakes his head in disapproval and turns to face you. “You did the right thing, you called me a cab right?” He tries to work through his memories, catalog and figure out what happened after he came drunk. He remembers being at the bar, someone asking if he was the son of Flaca and when he lied the patron went on and on about how messy she would get when she stopped by after her shift at the hospital. Javier remembers feeling protective over a mother who had never cared for him in the first place.

“I offered to drive you.”

I can drive you home. He looked like he sobered up in that moment, the thought of you behind the wheel unsettling beyond anything else.

Absolutely not

You remember scoffing, I dont have my license yet, but I can drive!

Javier had shook his head aggressively, Not happening, it's unsafe.

You clamped your mouth shut before forcing him to stay put on your front door step as you head in to call him a cab. You had joined him on the steps again.

How’s high school treating you, he slurs slightly. He was already quite the big teen, broad and tall, his drunk wasn't the same as Frankie’s. Javier’s drunkenness was a small blush on his cheeks and a toothy grin. The opposite of how he presented in school when he walked around with that unapproachable frown and crinkle in his brow.

Always looking like he was on the brink of either fucking you up or fucking you.

It’s okay, I wish you would talk to me more, you wanted to say. It's weird to hang out with people that actually chose to be my friend.

Javier’s drunken glance loaded with discontent cuts into you but he doesnt egg it on. His eyes gaze back down at the solid ground below them. You watched his gaze soften as he lost himself into his own thoughts. You remember looking at his face and feeling lonelier than ever. What lovely feelings at fifteen.

“You weren't yourself that night, you didn't even argue with me. It felt lonely sitting with you when you weren't yourself.”

Javier, the one that's yours, frowns and nods. “I was drunk but I remember hoping you would have touched me, at the time I think I needed some sort of comfort.”

In whispers you apologize to him now and he wants none of that, shaking his head. He grabs your hand and kisses the jagged bones of the back of your hand. Being a teenager sucked. Freshman year sucked. “The cab came quickly, what happened when you went home?”

Javier stares off for a moment and quickly his thick brows furrow. “Lorraine was in my living room when I came home. We made up and she promised me she’d start over with you.”

Ah, you thought. It made sense, that entire month of watching them slowly get close again until they finally made it official. That month when he ignored you and you watched him trail the halls, blushing behind him wondering if maybe you two just grew apart or if he realized he didn't need to be your friend anymore. Of course until that day in December when Javier found you with your textbooks in hand and a blotchy face. The day Lorraine introduced herself as if none of this happened.

“Right.” You mumble, pulling up the covers closer to your chest. Nostalgia flooding and crushing you right in bed with Javier, your thoughts spasming and jumping to all the things you promised to get over. And you turn your back against him, smushing your cheek into the pillow. Too confused to cry and Javier wastes no time in pressing his lips on the round of your shoulder.

“It’s always been you Andrea, you know that.”

Your chin quivers and through it all you smile. With his face pressed against your shoulder you bring your left hand across your body to rough up his hair. “Whatever softie.” He groans, giving your shoulder a nice bite. “I’ll tell my mom it was a bar thing, but I’ll have to lie about Louisiana.”

“Mmm, what are you going to say?” He’s dozing off, you hear his voice getting rougher and smoother.

You think of your mother for a second. You think of all the times she’s belittled you, made a decision for you, and apologized with a gift. You think of her saying that you have overstayed your welcome here, in the home you were raised. And fuck that, fuck her.

“I’m just going to leave, she doesn't care enough.”

Javi stills in his kisses, “And your brother.”

You roll your eyes, forgetting about that pest.

“We can figure it out in Louisiana.”

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