#but actually talking it out here had him getting closer to a glimmer of self-awareness

[damselofblueroses]

Bambi, Ch. 2, Ghost

You are my Bambi, girl, I am your candy, tell me what are you waiting for?

Summary: As an archaeologist who works on the Ancient Greece, you were on the verge of excavations’ session. While you have been preparing your team, you learned that your institute decided on your team has to work with another team as they wanted the outcome as a collaboration. The head of other team was your biggest rival, a scumbag in your eyes: Byun Baekhyun.

You two were supposed to work together for three months, in a Greek Island, Chios.

Could you manage to not kill Byun Baekhyun for three months?

Chapter Summary: Byun Baekhyun and the Reader remember the day they spent in UN Village together while they are heading to Chios. (Guys, this chapter, which is dedicated to the beginning of their relationship, is going to be two parts, otherwise it is going to be more than 20k lol)

Word Count: 11k

Content: AU, heavily Greek mythology, enemies to lovers.

Warnings: Well, the story contains NSFW/Smut, please minors do not continue.

Note: This story will be 7 or 8 chapters if I will not change my mind in the meantime. It is inspired by my major; however, I do not have a complete knowledge on archaeology, I am a historian. If I will make a technical mistake, please let me know. I am willing to receive any kind of feedback; you are more than welcomed to drop a message.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Ghost

5 years ago, Hannam-dong

Even if I want you so much it drives me crazy

You ghost

Even if I want and call for you all night long

You came to me and left without a word

You ghost, you ghost

You want to go crazy all night, you plead

You ghost

You disappeared again without a trace

“What type of sadistic and sick person could say that we have to work here?” you cursed between your teeth, you jaw clenched because of pure anger. “How do they expect us to do our job in the middle of fucking super-ultra-rich people?”

“Get used to it.” Junmyeon flinched your forehead, but his frustration was oblivious, even though he was doing definitely better than you. “Where is Baekhyun?”

“I do not know.” you recklessly pointed to the expensive cars on the road. “Maybe he was looking for a sugar mommy.”

“As your sunbae,” Minseok hit you. “I would like to remind you to hold on your manners.”

“Someone has to give a speech on manners to him.” your eyebrows knitted together. “Not to me.”

“Both of you,” Kyungsoo nonchalantly spoke. “need a really good beaten session, since both of you have no idea on how to behave.”

You threw the book you were holding to Kyungsoo, but he was too quick and easily saved himself from your unexpected attack.

“I am here, right?” you hissed. “Where the heck is that bastard? He always disappears when it comes to work, why do you hold me in the same esteem with him?”

“Because you are definitely a copy of Baekhyun.” Chanyeol laughed at your god-fucking-damn-it-so-horrible face expression. “Let’s face with the fact, Indy. Everyone knows that Baekhyun is a disciplined student, just as you are, badmouthed, just as you are.”

“Are you talking about me?” Baekhyun popped out of nowhere. “I heard you are praising me less than the way I deserve.”

Your face could be described as disgusted, but this would be the kindest way of telling how your appearance was. Actually, you wanted to punch his narcissistic self-perspective, to shake his cage in order to give him the lesson he deserved, but you did not want to be scolded by Junmyeon again. You just walked away from him, needing to put a safe distance between yourself and Baekhyun.

God, if you could run away to space, you would do it in order to not infuse with the same air with Baekhyun.

You disliked him, you disliked the way of his well-being, you disliked his velvety voice, his lame jokes, his sharp remarks, you disliked everything about Byun Baekhyun.

And you hated yourself because of finding him very handsome. Sometimes, you caught yourself, staring at Baekhyun, forgetting how to breath properly. His face was like a gift of God himself; his body ratio made you to say oh-my-fucking-god.

Thank God, he had the most annoying character, because if he had a good personality, you knew that you would fall in love over the heels with him.

“What kind of idiot chained us here?” Baekhyun asked to Junmyeon. “Fuck’s sake, what the heck we are going to here? Digging beneath the Richie riches’ villas?”

Chanyeol bite his lips before looking at you, silently reminding your own words and his remarks about being very same with Baekhyun. You did not back off, staring at Chanyeol with all frustration went through your veins, causing Chanyeol to laugh. Baekhyun hit his head, then walked towards Junmyeon to take his own tool bag.

You hated him for this, too. He was acting like he was a superior, like he was better than any of you, and what got your nerves badly was no one scold him as they would scold you if you would do the same things.

“Yeah, I am like this scumbag who does not carry even his own stuff, huh?” you literally sizzled between your teeth, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo heard your annoyed voice, but they preferred to keep their silence. Your hate was not a secret for the team, everyone was aware of the fact that putting you and Baekhyun was a dangerous decision since he also loathed you.

But to your dismays, you were the brightest students Sejong could always play on.

“Seriously what we are going to do?” Baekhyun repeated his question because he really did not have a single clue.

“Didn’t you read the mail Sejong sent us?” Jongdae asked him, raising one eyebrow. Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder, you bit your lower lip in order keep your frustration under your control. What a bastard!

“We have to visit UN Village, there are seven neighbourhood where we have to go and collect the permissions of the residents.” Junmyeon run his hand through his hair. He was already on the verge of cracking since he was the one who had to deal with a lot of capricious upper-class members in order to complete this fucking task. He wished nothing but changing his path, he started to think like the field was not his cup of tea, but before resigning from leadership, he wanted to find a good candidate who could lead the team.

He wanted you to be that leader. You and Baekhyun. Heretofore, Junmyeon laid his eyes on both of you and your abilities persuaded him to nominate your names when he could propose an election. He did not want to be a fieldperson, he wished to stay in his office, but at the same time, he could not inherit his legacy, Godfuckingdamnit Junmyeon’s did his best in order to engrave his name as one of the most successful captains, to anyone but the best. Yet, Junmyeon had no idea how to put you in good terms, since you were like a cat and dog, and Chanyeol, that giant idiot, used every opportunity to fan the flames, even that silent Kyungsoo enjoyed watching intangible scuffles between you and Baekhyun.

Junmyeon has been sensing that the team was becoming aware of the situation and camping as two different poles. Jongdae, Shinhye and Minseok were setting off closer to you while Chanyeol, Kyungsoo and the newbie, Jongin have been shifting to Baekhyun’s side. Damn, Junmyeon could not let it to be happen. He needed all of you under the same umbrella, especially you and Baekhyun had to stay together. He was seeing a great potential of you, if you could combine your powers, you were going to be the perfect team. Period.

“Let’s split into teams.” his eyes wandered around all of you. “We are eight, if we can divide ourselves into four teams, we will finish the job easier and quicker.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Kyungsoo approved. “I am going to take Chanyeol.”

“Are you my superior, dumbass?” Chanyeol hit his shoulder, but he was laughing. “I am with Kyungsoo.”

“Good.” Junmyeon inhaled. “Shinhye, you are with Jongdae.”

You automatically stirred next to Minseok, however you shuttered after hearing Junmyeon’s next orders.

“Indy, you and Baekhyun are together, Minseok, let’s go.”

“What?!” you immediately stopped and hissed at Junmyeon. “Am I with who?”

Jongdae realized the storm before seeing the clouds, clever as always, he disappeared while dragging Shinhye with him. You even did not notice, but Chanyeol’s smile widened, Kyungsoo smirked, and they rushed to their own direction.

Only four of you were standing on the pavement, you were throwing daggers to Junmyeon with your eyes. Baekhyun was nonchalantly looking at Junmyeon, while Minseok could not find a way to break the tension.

Junmyeon was cool as a cucumber.

“You are with Baekhyun.” he repeated his words, sounding like he was condemning you with execution. “What? Do you have a rejection?”

“Yes!” you exploded without thinking. “Why shou-

“Believe me,” Baekhyun interrupted your words, he was indifferent to your frustration. “I did not beg for being in the same team with you.”

“Did I claim that?” you swiftly turned on your tiptoes. “Did I say you are eager to be with me?”

“It would be the greatest joke you could make.” Baekhyun winked to you. “But you are not so into the entertainment, right?”

“Baekhyun,” Minseok noisily cleared his throat. “I am not sur-

“What do you know about me?” you heard your own voice. “This is why we cannot work together, you always make assumptions out of your ass, instead I work as organized, with the facts and tangible proofs.”

“What do you know about me?” Baekhyun coldly smiled at you, you could not describe its impacts on you, that smile had you wanting to punch him at the same time ignited some fires in your lower stomach. “We barely talk, have you been watching me all the time?”

“You wish.” you took a deep breath. “You are not worth my time.”

“Oh,” his eyes glimmered with a menacing luminescence. “I am deeply wounded.”

“If you are done,” Junmyeon raised his hands to the air. “We have to work.”

“Jun-

“Young lady,” Baekhyun barged on. “They did not teach you this, so it’s up to me but we are not in kindergarten anymore.”

You had to admit, no one could get your nerves till now like Baekhyun did.

You had to admit, you hated being called as a kid. Junmyeon’s eyes blown up when Baekhyun labelled you as a kid, before he could open his mouth, you stared at Baekhyun.

“I can see why we could be a team.” you took the directional instructions from Junmyeon’s hand. “A kindergarten kid has to take care of a cry baby while the adults have to work.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed, but you wholly ignored his visible annoyance, and started to walk. Junmyeon was looking at your back with a little bit concerned face, but he knew that he did what he had to do.

You were going to scold Junmyeon in the following hours of the day, however, now your job was teaching a couple of lessons on manners to this scumbag who has been walking beside you.

You spent the first hour in a total silence, talking only if the occasion called for it. The tension between you and Baekhyun was solid, someone could cut it with a knife without any problem. Baekhyun was bored to death, he never plan to have a day like this, he wanted to enjoy everything he did, he thought he could be with Chanyeol or Kyungsoo, having fun to death.

Instead, he was trapped with you.

The only girl he loathed to the bits.

He could not endure to hear your voice, even though you talked with the residents very kindly and respectfully. He had to admit that you were doing a good job, but it did not change anything he felt for you. He had been cursing Junmyeon since he put you two in the same task, however, he knew that if Junmyeon wanted something from Baekhyun, he would do it without question. Baekhyun could be many things, but he was loyal to his friends, and Junmyeon had a special place in his heart.

Also, behind the curtains of his hate, he could see why Junmyeon gave you to him. Although you were an abominable bitch, an obnoxious creature, a walking blasphemy, and a hate crime, Baekhyun did not think you could be an offspring of a lovely or healthy relationship, he was sure your parents were diabolical beasts, to his disappointment, you were reallyclever.

He wished you could be more reliable person, so he could work with you.

Baekhyun did not like to confess, yet he was aware of the fact that he desperately needed his own Evelyn O’Connor. Someone who could play the game with him, as his trustable partner in crime. He was extremely close to Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, but they were not equal to his wits and ambitions. Sometimes he was brassed off the conversations, time to time he found them boring and lame. His logic was faster than his mates, actually he was longing for nothing, but someone was equal to his high-speed brain.

You could be the one he was searching for, but you were made of poison, greed, and wickedness. Even if he would be blessed by the Heavens, he could not agree to work someone with you.

“Your Highness,” he heard your fucking voice. “We have to visit at least twelve houses more; do you mind hurrying up?”

“The only thing I mind is your fucking attitude.” he gritted his teeth. “Give the plan to me.”

“So, you can destroy everything I organized properly?” you smirked. “I do not think so.”

“Organized?” Baekhyun cocked his eyebrow. “Organized, my ass. Didn’t you lose Park Sangwan’s house? Twice?”

“Look who is talking.” the red of embarrassment slightly painted your cheeks and ears. “The one who had no idea about today’s plans.”

“At least I did not lose my fucking way and circled around the same house almost for half an hour.”

“And the award goes to Byun Baekhyun for his greatest achievements.” you gave back the wink to him, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, breaking news. No achievement no award.”

Baekhyun took it personally since you two competed to each other as the finalists of last academic year. Your project was accepted as the winner while Baekhyun received only a certificate. You hit the lotto, he had to watch you, walking to the stage with a bright smile tugged on your lips.

Still, he could vividly remember the little smirk you gave to him that night when they announced your name.

“You did it consciously.” his jaw clenched. “That night. When they called you as the winner. You immediately turned to me just to annoy me.”

“It seems, I achieve my goal.” your smirk widened, a glistening layer of fun covered your face. “Were you disappointed?”

“Yeah, of course.” he did not miss a single second. “I was disappointed of the professors, I was believing they were cleverer than me, but their choice showed me they were nothing but idiots.”

“Could you smell the air, Baekhyun?” you asked with a serious face. He was confused for a second, you never ask a question to him or call him by his name, but before he could register, you tucked the words in his throat. “Oh, jealousy, my favourite.”

“Darling,” Baekhyun swallowed hard. “There is no single living soul who can be low enough to jealous you in this universe.”

That was not quite truth, because Baekhyun not only remembered your revengeful smile but also how you were looking like that day. He could paint you on canvas by closed eyes, and he would not miss a single detail.

And he was a little bit jealous on that day. Not only because he lost over to you, but also because of the people around you. You annoyed him not only with your award, but also with your closeness to the other men.

Despite of your usual oversize clothes or no makeup policy, you chose to present yourself in a different style. Your hair was perfectly combed, your makeup highlighted your face features, and you were wearing a little light blue dress which tightly caressed your body. Baekhyun, or none of your classmates knew that you had curves for example till that night and to Baekhyun’s dismay, you had a really good body. You were a minion, your beauty was very soft and although he really hated to admit this, you were a view for the spectators. Maybe not the prettiest, but you had something had people looking at you, liking you, desiring you.

You had an aura which was enough to make your biggest enemy to silently acknowledged that you were attractive.

“Maybe, there is no one.” you shrugged your shoulder. “But youwere eager to low yourself, huh?”

You did not forget the look on Baekhyun’s face when Professor Kim called you to the stage. You were sure as fuck, he was cursing you but also there was something else, glowing in his eyes. Something you could not describe, but you could see the same emotion in your reflection when you saw Baekhyun with that crowd of girls.

Rarely.

But still you knew that feeling.

That ceremony was hard for you, of course you were over the moon because of your achievement, that project opened you some fresh opportunities and proved that despite of being a junior, you were more than a bachelor student. You proved your talents and abilities to yourself by winning the first place, you completed a step, made your first goal come true.

And you nailed Byun Baekhyun’s coffin. It was worth of every minute you spent sleepless, your tears and sweats, the hours in library, the hours in front of the plan of Gyeongbokgung Palace and search for the most logical and safest ways of conducting an excavation around the palace.

Your ideas were chosen over Baekhyun’s ideas, and you were aware of the quality of the solutions he proposed.

You were proud of yourself.

It was the bare truth that Baekhyun’s face were singing to you just as your favourite band could sing, seeing his face just like someone fed him with cucumbers was equal to being accepted into your dream field, Chios’ excavations, as the chief archaeologist.

But you were annoyed.

You could not happily taste your success. You could not feel its flavour on your tongue buds.

Because of that bastard looked fucking magnificent in that bloody black suit.

You have been told about the dress code you had to follow, however no one, not a single soul managed to catch his level of looking good in a suit.

You were annoyed because your taste in men was exactly equal to Byun Baekhyun. He had everything you could ask for, he was devilishly charming, there was even no need for words to describe him, he was beautiful.

And he was the only one you hated the most.

Every girl in the room was drooling over him, to your dismay, just like you. You felt that feeling in your stomach, a pain which was spinning, spinning, and spinning, causing a tornado inside of your stomach.

Was it jealousy?

“I already noticed your ignorance about the feelings.” Baekhyun could not control himself anymore and grabbed your shoulder, turning you to the opposite direction. “We have to follow this fucking street, or we will be lost again.”

“Have you been observing me, Baekhyunnie? That’s so cute.” you ignored the second part of his words, just starting to walk on the direction he instructed to you.

“Observing you takes a minute, baby girl, since there is nothing to see.” he answered but he found it interesting when you called him as Baekhyunnie. “You are a spoiled brat.”

“Hop, that hurts.” you pouted, pressed your fist on your chest, faking a whimper. “Would you like to tame this spoiled brat?”

You started to think that you went nuts.

“In your dreams.” Baekhyun laughed, but he literally lost himself in the fucking possibilities you could be tamed by him. “You have to wait a couple of centuries for someone who can be willing to be with you.”

You chuckled but preferred to keep your silence after his words. Damn, your sudden quietude caught Baekhyun’s attention more. Why didn’t you not attack to him? Why didn’t you give him a sharp answer as you should have?

Why you chuckled like there was a line at your door?

Was it?

Baekhyun pondered that instead of the fact that you were generally with a small group of friends, to both of your dismays your common friends, he did not see you with strangers, so there could not a queue for your hand.

Could it be?

And why the fuck he should have care if there is a crowd for you or not? No one could want someone like you if they did not lose their mind.

But he cared. Fuck, he cared more than he wanted.

Because to his disappointment, he knew that there was a real cavalcade of knightly candidates for you.

“Okey,” you checked the time. “After this one, I am going to have lunch.”

“We are going to have lunch.” Baekhyun gritted his teeth. “I hate eating alone enough to endure your presence.”

“Didn’t you tell me there is no one who could want to be with me?” you snickered. “But you have no reservations about having lunch with me?”

“Imagine the situation I am in.” he grumbled. “The day gets better and better.”

You decided to annoy him, pushing him to the edges as much as you could do. The first response that came to your mind refusing him, but the other option was funnier. You could play with Byun Baekhyun, you could take your revenge by being a pain in the ass.

He said that he could endure your presence.

You could make him regretful of his words.

There was a very little smile tugged on your lips which you were not aware of, however, to his dismay, Baekhyun realized it.

Her lips are rosy and plump, he thought to himself. Even though he called you a spoiled brat, he was not sure of if you were a brat or not. Kiddos have not the type of lips, calling people for the kisses, like you. There was something, even during your cocky performances when you tried to beat the life out of him, although you always kept that dull and bored expression and acted like Baekhyun was not worth of your time, but there was something just in you.

Baekhyun swallowed down his own vomit when he admitted it to himself, and you have caught his glare.

“What?” you purred. “Can’t you take your eyes off me?”

“Who the hell wants to watch you?” he quickly collected his thoughts and put them in a fucking trail. “I am looking for a restaurant where we can have good food.”

After a permanent mutual ignorance session for years, his next words caught you off your guard.

“You like local foods, right?” he asked. “I guess the second shop on this street is famous for jjangmyeon and tteokbokki.”

Well, you had to admit that his questions made your brain a little bit foggy. How could he know that?

“Yeah.” for the first time in history, you did not come up with any sharp answer. “How about you?”

“As long as there is no cucumber or extremely sweet cuisine,” he started to walk. “I am fine.”

You heard that Baekhyun is really not in good terms with cucumber.

“Feel you.” you murmured in your mouth because you hated cucumbers as much as you hated Baekhyun. He swiftly look at you, you accompanied him on the street.

“We should celebrate.” he teased. “I said something, you just answered, and we did not have a fight.”

“This is a privilege for cucumbers.” you shrugged your shoulder, but you also felt that he did not buy your nonchalant tone. “I cannot stand them, mum loves it too much, I mean what type of person can love a cucumber? If I need water, I prefer to drink it.”

Your observation made him tilted his head back in that rumbling laugh of his, you were unwilling to join, but the corners of your mouth turned up slightly.

“Here we go.” He, as a gentleman, opened the door for you, you responded with the most neutral expression you could muster. “Oh, no thanks?”

“Thank you.” you rolled your eyes, however, despite of your strongly negative feelings against him, you do not like rudeness. “Sorry, that was insolence of me.”

“Your apology is fully accepted.” he winked, you hated that cocky tone, you hated yourself for falling into his trap. You passed him, went to a distanced table where it placed in the corner. You did not want to be seen as having a lunch with Baekhyun by your teammates.

Corner was fine.

“Oh, no.” he grabbed your arm, manhandled you to the tables of the center. “I will not let you escape. If they see us, let them to see.”

Your eyebrows knitted, your lips pressed to each other enough to form a thick line on your face, you could almost taste your growing anger. But at the same time, you realized that feeling his hand on your skin increased your heartbeats, you wanted to scream with self-hatred, but you bite down on your tongue as his hand quickly wandered to down, to your waist. He directed you to the most visible table from outside while you were fighting yourself in order to control your fucking pace of breathing.

Please, this could not be true, I could not be excited because of his touch, you thought.

This was not happening, what the fuck was happening?

Baekhyun was not so different from you, even though his face expression was not changed for a bit. He forced himself to take control, but it was really hard for him.

Your hate was reciprocated, right? You guys could not spend even a bloody minute in peace, the only thing you had was annoyance.

So, why you perfectly fit in his embrace just like you were made just to be under his arm?

Why Baekhyun wanted to tight his arm around your waist?

Why could you not say anything even though Baekhyun was literally holding you?

Why you felt like you were in the only place where you had to be for the rest of your days?

“Hi.” you heard the waitress who was a really beautiful girl. “Welcome to Sung’s String. How can I help you?”

Even though finishing her sentence, she begun to eye Baekhyun. You rolled your eyes and reached to the menu; to be honest, this show was not funny after seeing it for the million times. Every time, Sejong Team went outside for a drink, for a gathering or even for a museum trip, girls and sometimes boys gazing the members of Sejong Team just like they were idols or actors because of their good-looking. Eh, they were not wrong, you had to say that the Sejong Team included really, really, and really handsome boys from Baekhyun to Chanyeol, from Kyungsoo to Jongdae and these boys’ superiors were Kim oh-my-godJunmyeon and Kim lord-help-us Minseok.

Well…

You were already got used to the reactions coming from all around when Sejong Team showed their faces. You knew that both of insiders and outsiders of Sejong Institute called your team members as the Flower Boys or a shitty nickname like that.

“I would like to have a jjangmyeon without cucumbers, and a tteokbokki.” you turned the menu off. “With a light coke.”

“Coke?” Baekhyun mimicked you like he could not believe his ears. “Are you kidding? Everyone knows that you have to drink jasmine tea in order to help digestion.”

“Have you been majored in nutrition?” you gave him your bitchy resting face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No coke.” he wholly ignored you and turned to the waitress who was watching him as drooling. “Please, we want two bowls of jjangmyeon, two tteokbokki, also please we would like to have kimbap and kimchi as the garnitures and of course a pot of jasmine tea.”

“Yeah!” she sounded weaker after Baekhyun conducted all power he had in his eyes to her. “Anything else?”

“I guess we are fine for the time being.” Baekhyun smiled to her, causing a flush of redness on her cheeks.

“I will be back as soon as possible.” the girl literally purred, Baekhyun’s eyes shined after her reaction. Little bastard. You did not want to think about it, but his visible joy had your stomach churned. You inhaled and took your book out of your bag.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun glanced up at you, reached to take the book from your hands. “Having lunch together means conversation, are you going to read?”

“Give the book to me, Byun.” you kicked his foot under the table. “I know you do not know how to read and enjoy but that’s a good habit to have.”

“Yeah, I know that habit of you gives nothing but lonely hours in library.” he had no limits of shooting his arrows. “Have you ever tried something different for a change?”

“Like what?” you tried to get back your book. “Following your great example and dedicate my life to your favourite sport? Sorry, I have no interest in running after women by lolling my tongue out of my mouth.”

“Baby girl,” Baekhyun put your book in his leather bag. “You have no idea whose tongue lolls out of the mouth.”

You could not decide on what you hated the most. Baekhyun or the girls after Baekhyun? You concluded as both of them were equally horrible in your eyes.

“I am sure your stories are incredible.” you inhaled. “But I really do not like to hear the anecdotes of miserable women. Could you give the book back before I gauge your eyes off?”

“Nope.” he grinned. “I can bet on you are still a virgin but tell me if you have an affair or not, I would like to pay my condolences to your partner.”

He was already written as the first name in your list of most-hated-people, but suddenly became the first man to be written as the first enemy of a lifetime.

“Did you finish your own list of dead partners?” you raised one eyebrow. “Thinking of its length gives me chills.”

“No dead.” his grin widened from one ear to the other. “They just had some temporary heart problems due to the performances I gave to them.”

You opened your mouth to slap his face with the words, but the waitress came back to your table with a huge tray. She was placing every bowl and plate, actually fucking Baekhyun with her eyes, you literally hardly suppressed your instincts, telling you to warn her immediately.

But you were not honest with yourself about why you wanted to warn her. In the deep of your mind, but in very deep, you had been starting to realize that you disliked when the girls threw themselves to Baekhyun because you wanted them to stop. You did not like the scene because you did not want to share Baekhyun’s gaze with another person.

You were lying to yourself without realizing what was the real problem of you.

You loved Baekhyun from the beginning, even though he was a fucking tease and a bloody smartass. There was no other man for you, if someone could cut your chest, the only thing would be seen in your heart was his name.

But that would be the heaviest self-enlightenment, and you were definitely not ready for such as a thing. That’s why you unconsciously continued to trick yourself by disguising your own feelings from your own eyes.

You got the chopsticks and decided to have your lunch instead of burying yourself in the maze of thoughts. Baekhyun realized your discomfort, but he had no idea what the real reason of your mood was, whatever made you unhappy was more than okey for him. He could be happy as long as you were sorrowful.

“You still not give an answer to the question.” he was persistent on pushing your limits. “Do you have a relationship?”

“Why are you curious?” you took a mouthful amount of jjangmyeon. How much you wanted to stuff these noodle strings into his throat, suffocating him to death. “If you want to send a bouquet, please note that I love blue roses.”

“You are really a virgin, huh?” Baekhyun diabolically grinned, you could swear on you saw the red halo over his head.

“Darling, you cannot make me angry by stating what is obvious.” you smiled back, there was no reason holding it back, you were always open on these issues, and a sick part of you wanted to tell him to see his reaction. “Yeah, I am a virgin.”

“Do you conservatively follow a church?” his chin dropped a few inches. “How could it be possible with all the boys who try to seduce you?”

Well, you did not expect to hear this.

“Come on,” Baekhyun continued. “I always see you with a bunch of men, do you really think they are following you only for friendship?”

“On the contrary of you and your limit-does-not-exist type of libido, people can build the bonds of affinity.”

“Only when they do not search for an open door to sneak in.” Baekhyun pointed his chopsticks to your face. “Telling you, I can name at least six permanent names in the waiting room.”

You did not see the hidden meaning of his words, however, Baekhyun was already became regretful, he silently prayed for your ignorance and blindness were going to keep him safe. Because he gave you the biggest clue of his interest in you by stating he could give even names.

He still did not understand how he could know everything about you or why he always put a brick on the ways of the candidates for you, but he did. Hell, he was unapologetically finding a way to prevent the boys who liked you and no one could understand it was Baekhyun. He always came up with a solution in order to intimate them, put them back off. You were not aware but Baekhyun always appeared around you when he thought a candidate was close to you more than he supposed to be.

He already put his stamina on you as his girl, but he was not aware of his own actions. He was not aware of what he has been doing, how he was persistently looking for you, searching for your face in every class or harmoniously living with your voice. It was like your breathing was singing to his ears, and he was dancing with your melody.

Baekhyun did not understand but he was yours.

“I am not sure what you think,” you sipped from jasmine tea with self-confidence. “But there is no such a fucking waiting room.”

“You are really blind.” Baekhyun chewed a rice cake, generously dipping it into the gochujang sauce. “Don’t you think Oh Seunghwan is acting like more than a friend? Or Jang Jeongbun? Jesus, even you really cannot be that much idiot.”

Baekhyun was right for the first time in history. You were nothing more than a retard because you really did not understand the behind the scenes of his words. He was unconsciously giving you the signs of his interests in you, but you were so naïve to see.

“They are my friends, Baekhyun.” you rolled your eyes back. “I know grasping the nature of different relationships is hard for you, but people can be nothing but friends. No need to add tensions or searching for hidden meanings.”

Every time you vocalized his fucking name, Baekhyun felt its impact went straight to his dick, and he hated himself for that.

You were not the type of people who could be okey with the target of teasing. You wanted to play, you wanted to be enhanced by it, sinking into the waves of the game.

And even Baekhyun did not admit it in his head, he believed you were the most attractive girl he has been known because of you always corresponded to his moves and cards.

“How about you?” you immediately played your reverse card, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I heard that you and your gorgeous looks which made entire school swoon and fantasize about you? Are you really called as the sexiest human being on the country?”

Your voice was the strongest indicator of your disbelief, he could be the biggest moron on planet Earth, nothing more nothing less.

Also, you were aware of those comments on Baekhyun more than you wished for. You kept everything you heard about him in your head, in the safest and the most secret file of your brain, refusing to think but keeping on unconsciously think about those speculations. You found them very suspicious, but not because of Baekhyun did not deserve to be called as the sexiest human being, you found those fantasies as unlikely because of Baekhyun had not that macho man stuff people were somehow attributing to him.

You had grown so sick from all of these dreams and comments, coming from every corner of school since Baekhyun was like a star.

And now, you had him seemed quite displeased with your tease.

“Only on the country?” he raised one eyebrow. “Shit, it seems I am not doing well.”

“Baby, you are coming after Park Chanyeol.” you sighed in joy of dancing on your tiptoes. “That’s a quite achievement, when you think.”

“Chanyeol?” he sighed in annoyance; you knew that you trapped his ego in a small box. “Coming after Chanyeol?”

“Yeah.” you gave the most nonchalant look to him. “Well, I can tell that’s quite unfair since Flower Boys includes really strong names such as Kyungsoo or Junmyeon but… Poor girls, they have to be lunatic to put you after Chanyeol.”

“What do you think about these extremely distorted images of us?” Baekhyun angrily took a mouthful of jjangmyeon.

“Do you ask my list?” you crossed your hands over your chest, cooing with gleamy eyes. “I cannot believe that Byun Baekhyun, asking me, a poor peasant, for her list.”

Baekhyun’s eyes darkening, and you were not sure why your mood was changed from the pure need of mocking him to an excitement which you could not ignore. His voice was really screechy and boyish when he asked your list, and his voice giving you a different kind of pleasure. Not the pleasure of scolding him, but the delight of toying him, pushing him to the edge.

But you did not analyse your current feelings, instead, you rushed to deliver your actually-not-existent list.

“We are talking about physical features, right? But I am going to rate everyone also with their characteristics.” you smiled. “For me, the first name is Chanyeol. I mean, look at that face he has, and his body ratio is excellent, but he has a golden heart. Then, of course Kyungsoo, he is fucking handsome, therefore, he is a great guy.”

“I really pity your tastes of men.” Baekhyun’s discontent with your made-up list was palpable, and the dissatisfaction of his tone was like honey left out in the morning sun.

“The number 3 is Junmyeon as always.” you wholly ignored his comment. “No one can say anything against to Kim Junmyeon, he is the definition of aesthetic. Minseok and Jongdae shared the same number in my list, and that’s all.”

“You forgot me.” Baekhyun snorted, his voice made you lifted your head. He was so tense; you never see his jaw clenched at this expand. What’s up his ass? you silently though in your head.

“I did not.” you were cool as a cucumber. “You are not in the list.”

Till now, you guys always ate each other, digging the graves for each other, always fighting always scolding always throwing invisible daggers to each other. However, you have never ever seen those dangerous lights, dancing in the pupils of Baekhyun after your words.

It was difficult to wrap your mind around the fact that you found this Baekhyun as more attractive than his usual-self and unfortunately you already found Baekhyun very desirable. Even though you would never even let yourself to think about being intimate with him, his eyes stirred something inside of you, ignited some fires close to your lower stomach.

“I am sorry to hear that.” you also never heard this cold voice tone of Baekhyun, and you heard almost every negative version of Baekhyun’s voice which he spared only to use against you. “Let’s finish the meals, we have to be back to work.”

“Yeah.” you nod, lightly smiled. You managed to make him mad, you achieved your goal to annoy him so bad.

Why did you feel bad?

Why did you want Baekhyun to continue on the game?

Why did you feel regretful?

Why did you want to cry?

When Baekhyun’s phone started to ring, you almost completed every house in the list Junmyeon gave to you.

And you spent the last two hours in a total silence. It was eerily, Baekhyun’s lips firmly presses into each other like he sworn on not to talk again. You were not so different, but inside of your mind, something was gnawing your inner peace.

You were not happy, even you coped with the most difficult task, shutting Baekhyun’s mouth.

But you were not happy. You did not feel like you got the prize.

Instead…

You were extremely sad, and you felt like you let the trophy to slid between your fingers.

You had to feel like you hit the jackpot, but quite opposite, you were miserable.

You were especially afraid of losing Baekhyun’s attention, your own heart was aching at the way you told him off.

Still, you were lying to yourself and trying to conceal what made you afraid, you were not honest to your conscious, however despite of your efforts, you knew something was wrong with you after his transformation after you showed him the door.

You were a coward; you were not accepting the solid fact that you were in love with Byun Baekhyun and what made you afraid was nothing but losing him.

However, you were also sure on Baekhyun had a place in your head, making you shutter, had you shaking in your shoes. You could not name where to put his name, but you knew he had a place in your life.

And you were horrified by the possibility of losing the chance of hearing his voice. Even if his cocky remarks were the only words you could rip from him.

“Yeah?” Baekhyun answered to the call, for a second, you were happy to hear his voice again, but he walked towards to the last house you had to visit without waiting for you. He did not do this, even in the beginning of the day. You took a deep breath, you did not know why the heck you were really sad for his sudden coldness, godfuckingdamnit didn’t you hate and always despise each other? You mentally slapped yourself to gather yourself up, but it was pointless, you rushed to catch him.

You were aware of there was a painful squeeze in your chest, but you could not understand the reason of its presence or how you could get rid of that.

“Junmyeon told us to retreat.” Baekhyun informed you without looking at you. “After this house, we have to run back to the meeting point.”

“Okey.” you nod, hated the meek voice tone you produced but your mind was not on the case, you were questioning your own feelings and firm beliefs about Baekhyun.

Baekhyun was not better, to be honest, he was worse than you.

When you nonchalantly told him he was not in your list, he wanted to puke everything he devoured during lunch even though tteokbokki was his favourite food. He wanted to punch himself on the face when you counted the members of your fucking list, he wanted to smack his head into the table.

Chanyeol? Kyungsoo? Damnit, even Junmyeon found his way to sneak into your list, but Baekhyun was not there.

He was always sure of he would be landed in every list, but he never think that being in your fucking list was the most important for him.

Why did he care if you were not seeing him as a man or not?

This question swirling in his head had his mind shattering.

As much as he was happy to see you wiggling like a worm under the fires, he could not control his reactions against the problem. When he saw you trembling over a case, he was the first one always popped out of nowhere to fix the problem in the darkness and never let you learn that it was him. He did not let even Junmyeon to help you, putting aside Chanyeol or Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun was the one who had been saving your ass like he was your invisible rescue call.

But you did not name him in your fucking list.

It drove him into crazy. The lack of your attention. He never mean that alerting you on his helps or care for you, but at the same time, he never think that his efforts would be equal to nothing.

He hated himself as much he hated you.

While you were walking back to the meeting point, both of you were lost in your own darkest thoughts. You were carefully paying the attention in order to not to have immersed each other, however both of you wanted nothing but screaming to each other, enough to have the fiercest fight till now.

You wanted to lose yourself in Baekhyun just like he was dying to bury himself into you for his dear life. However, both of you were very good at muting the voices of your hearts and minds.

“Indy! Baekhyun!” you heard Minseok, turning to his voice. “It is going to be a blizzard; we have to find a shelter.”

“Ha?”

“The forecast was clear as fuck.” Chanyeol pointed Junmyeon who was glued to his phone. “Jun is looking for a hotel for us since we could not go back.”

“We can take the cabs?” you were puzzled, a blizzard would be bad, but it did not mean that you had to spend the night here. “I mean, we are not living in a different city.”

“Yeah, you are right.” Shinhye crossed her arms over her shoulders, trying to keep herself warm. You had to admit, although you did not feel it till now, the weather was really cold. “But the cab drivers refused to drive into the city center. They advised us to stay here.”

“How about using metro?” you asked. “It is not so hard.”

“If you want,” Junmyeon hissed at you, holding the phone over his shoulder for a second. “You can try your chance, Indy. However, we are going to spend the night here. Safe and warm.”

“He is right.” Kyungsoo smiled at you. “I prefer to be warm and dry, sorry.”

You took a look at the team, and everyone was approving Kyungsoo’s words like they were bloody zealots.

“Okey, dumbasses.” you sighed in annoyance. “But we do not have even fucking pyjamas.”

“You can always take your clothes off.” Chanyeol winked at you. “Who says you need a pair of pyjamas to sleep?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chanyeol.” a sudden blush spread over your cheekbones, Chanyeol could not help but burst into laughs.

Baekhyun was determined to ignore you, but he could not help himself.

“Yeah, number one.” he muttered between his teeth, enough to be heard only by you. “Golden heart.”

Your chin was dropped for a few inches after hearing his annoyed voice tone and vindictive comment.

Could it be the reason of his unexpected coldness?

Could he be jealous of your invalid expressions and your fake list?

No way.

He could not be.

Your heart skipped the order of beats.

“Okey,” Junmyeon interrupted your thoughts. “We are going, if we are lucky, we will be in the hotel before the bloody snow will sweep down on us.”

“Let’s go!” Shinhye grabbed your hand, dragging you beside of herself. You submissively followed her footsteps; however, your mind was distracted by Baekhyun’s last words.

Could it be?

“This is heaven.” Jongdae rubbed his tummy. “Thank you, Jun!”

“No problem.” Junmyeon smiled and looked at all of you, to be honest, after a really good and delicious dinner, everyone was knocked out over the table.

Except you and Baekhyun.

“If you want you can go to your rooms.” Junmyeon said. “Since we were fortunate to find a single room for each of us, I do not think we have to play rock-paper-scissor.”

“Ah, having a room for myself.” Minseok laughed. “I do not have to hear your snorts, Junmyeon.”

They were sharing the same flat, everyone laughed after his teasing, Junmyeon too.

“Look who is talking.” he beamed. “I am so happy that I am going to have one night without your damn showering rituals.”

“Tell us about it.” Jongdae whined. “Pleeeassse.”

While Junmyeon and Minseok had been giving details of their flatmate stories to the team, making everyone to enjoy the environment, you were deeply sink into the pool of thoughts.

What a day, you thought. And why I feel like I am desperate?

Also, Baekhyun was not enjoying the unexpected banquet, instead he was quite enough to draw attention to himself. Chanyeol was on the verge of asking what the heck was wrong with him, but Kyungsoo kicked him under the table, pointed you with his eyes. Chanyeol’s wit quickly grabbed the matter, and he devilishly grinned.

You gave a hard day to Baekhyun, and he had no intention to change a thing between you and Baekhyun.

He always believed that you were secretly liking each other, but as you were nothing but stubborn bastards, you concealed your feelings towards each other.

Chanyeol definitely had zero motive to interrupt the fight between you, if it meant you would understand your mutual feelings.

Junmyeon also sensed the tension between you and Baekhyun, but he was not the type of persons who could wait on his corner.

“Baekhyun? Baekhyun!” Junmyeon called out him, waking him up. “How was your day? Why you guys are silent as dead?”

“We completed the task.” Baekhyun answered sourly, the corner of his mouth jumping downwards faintly. “As you assigned me and her.”

Baekhyun deliberately avoided using the pronoun of us.

“And it was a hell of task.” he continued. “I am so tired.”

“Even if you are fucking tired,” Jongdae raised a rejection. “You never shut your mouth, tell us what the heck is gnawing you?”

The bloody girl who sits next to you, Baekhyun thought but he was clever enough to keep the filter between his mouth and brain as valid.

“The girl I gave a promise for this night.” he forced himself to beam. “Because of this fucking weather, I have to arrange another meeting with her.”

Your heart churned, his reply had you wanting to slap your face. Harshly.

And you thought that he could be jealous because you named Chanyeol!

You were nothing but such an idiot.

An idiot who did not know a single piece of shit but acting so superior.

You were a goddamn idiot.

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed after hearing Baekhyun’s shitty words, Kyungsoo wanted to punch Baekhyun’s face so bad, Junmyeon’s dislike of Baekhyun was obvious but he did not say anything, just sighed in desperation.

You felt nothing but another flash of pain as someone hit your abdomen.

“Are you okey, Indy?” Jongdae leaned over to you, whispering. You shook your head positively, smiling slightly. “You did not throw yourself into even desert.”

Your love for deserts was not a secret amongst your friends as Shinhye, sharing Jongdae’s concerns, handed you a bunch of cloudy puffs, filled with lemon cream. You took one of them, although you had no appetite, you forced yourself to eat the puff in order to put your friends at ease.

He was your biggest enemy and rival, right?

Why you were so devastated, almost on the verge of being hysterical?

You were not aware of you had been hypocritical with your feelings, and you were running away from your own heart. That’s why your hands were shaking, your heart was drumming into your ribs and aching as hell.

You were not ready to face with your heart, but you were also too naïve to save yourself from the pain it caused.

“Was he really harsh on you?” Jongdae murmured, his eyes was nothing but full of worries. “I am sure you could put him in his place but still…”

“He was not.” you said. “And you know me, nothing cheers me up but kicking his ass.”

“Glad to hear that.” Jongdae inhaled but the worries did not leave his face. “So why are you so down?”

“I am really tired today.” you sighed, tucking another puff into your mouth as you mentally punched your face in order to take the fucking control of yourself. “But if I will eat enough amount of these pastries, I will be like a bomb.”

“You are already like a bomb.” Minseok joined into the chat. “You look like on the verge of exploding.”

You unwillingly laughed at his damn right assumption.

“You know what?” you sniffed. “I am dying for a good drink. Would like to join me for a soju break?”

There was no single soul who could oppose to propose of grab a drink in your team. Jongdae jumped out of his chair, Shinhye was born ready and Minseok was the strongest drunkard.

“We are heading to the bar.” Minseok happily announced. “If you guys want to join, perfect, if not, good night to all.”

You were always impressed by the eagerness of Sejong Team to jump into any opportunity for a drink. Everyone, every single soul of this team, had a strong will to consume a respectable amount of alcohol. Less than a minute, everyone gathered up and headed to the elevators in order to visit the terrace of the hotel.

You had been wondering how rich Junmyeon was, even though he was a senior in college, or which kind of relations he had under his belt.

Jesus, you could not pay your attention during the dinner, however the hotel you had been staying was nothing but a touch of luxury. You had a strong guess on the payment bill of this place, however you preferred to keep it to yourself as you knew that Junmyeon did not like talking about the wealth lies beneath his fingertips.

But the bar was intimating.

Minseok, Jongdae and Kyungsoo were having a fierce conversation about the administrative offices of Roman Empire, Shinhye were with Junmyeon as they were talking on the next project that they aimed to present for the Head of Department. Chanyeol, only God knew how the heck he found that, was playing a guitar and you, as dwelling in an extremely comfortable armchair, tucked yourself into a blanket like a sushi roll, were enjoying the sudden calmness around yourself. The dim lights, from the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, casting mirages across the hall, showing the wooden tables scattered between the chairs and beautiful, fresh cut flowers in their elegant vases.

It is not Korean but Chinese or Japanese, you thought, however with your bad eyesight, making an observation about the porcelain and its design was impossible. Also, you were a little bit slothful at the very moment to move your butt, you wanted to indulge in the soju you were holding, not anything else.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, warm but unfamiliar, your head jerked to face the owner of touch.

Baekhyun was looking at you, however his eyes were different from his usual self. There was no intention to mock with you, his eyes were clear as the snow drops that covering the streets right now.

“May I sit?” Baekhyun asked to you, catching you off guard with an unexpected kindness. You nod, feeling a sudden increase of the level of excitement, but kept your mouth shut. “Thank you.”

Thanking you? Byun Baekhyun?

You perked up, starting to prepare yourself for the fight, despite of the considerable amount of soju flowing in your veins, you were ready to guard yourself.

His elbow brushed your forearm when he was rolling his body in order to adjust the chair next to you.

You were shocked by the reaction your body gave to the moment, the only thing he did was sitting on a fucking chair, but your cheekbones were on fire.

His hips, damn his hips your inner voice was hysterically whispering in your head.

“May I ask to which muse I owe this honour?” you searched Baekhyun’s eyes for a glint of dismissiveness, however this was the very first time you have been the target of sincere, chocolate brown and deep irises.

“I have a question for you.” Baekhyun quickly ignored your offensive joke. “Why I am not in your list?”

He may as well have tossed you inside of a volcano, kicking you into the pool of lava, the impact would be the same. Your heart prompted to your stomach, they churned together, your throat and lungs tightened so bad, enough to cut your air by yourself.

You open your mouth, but nothing come out, just a bubble.

“I do not know how to translate that.” he sneered however you were at a loss. You could expect a lot of words from Byun Baekhyun but questioning the reason of his absence in your fucking list was not one of them.

“There is—” you bite your lower lip to stop yourself, you were on the verge of confessing that there was no list, you just tried to poke his ego, but thank God, you still had a piece of sanity to hold on. “I do not understand. Why do you care my list?”

Do I look like I fucking know? Baekhyun wanted to shake your cage, he wished nothing but screaming at you with all power he had in his lungs. He had no idea why he was mad at you, but he was out of rage and the only reason was you.

“Because I am curious.” he leaned his elbows onto his knees, cocking one eyebrow to you. “And what I hate most is being ignorant to a case.”

“I know.” you spoke without thinking, your mind was delving into the current problem you had in order to find a balanced answer, so you did not realize what you exactly said.

Unfortunately for you, Byun Baekhyun did not become your biggest rival by being blind or deaf.

His lips slightly curled upwards.

But the gentleman he could be, he did not corner you for the time being.

“So?”

It did not mean he would not try to push you in order to get what he wanted.

“Is there a rule saying that every human being has to be interested in you?”

You were not aware of it, but your voice was cracking, and your breathing became heavier, quickened and there was a sheen of sweet on your forehead.

To your dismay, Byun Baekhyun did not unconsciously mark you as his girl without studying you to the bits.

“Humanity is a different topic.” he widely smiled. “I wonder about you, sweetheart.”

Your breath stuck in your lungs because of the endearment, even though you were aware of his teasing of you.

“You are not my type, Byun.” you dead serious.

“Ah, your type is Chanyeol, right?” he smirked, turning his head to the tall brunette who indulged himself into the guitar. “Should we alert him to your interest in him?”

“Goddamn, no!” you hissed at him. What kind of trouble he was aiming to knit on your head? “Do you know the definition of privacy? You are invading personal boundaries, dumbass.”

“I do not think so.” Baekhyun shrugged his shoulder. “If you like Chanyeol, Chanyeol has the right of be aware of your interest.”

“Okey, even a scoundrel like you cannot be crossing the limit of respect like this.” you moved to stand up, giving the most dangerous look to Baekhyun. “I do not have to lis-

“Hey, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun called him with a high-pitched voice. Chanyeol lifted his head, distracted by the unexpected scream of Baekhyun.

“What?”

“Nothing!” your hand immediately tugged onto Baekhyun’s knee, squeezing it tightly in order to warn him. “You are playing so good, keep going!”

Chanyeol laughed at your words.

“You do not have to scream like that, Goddamnit.”

“Tell it to your friend.” you rolled your eyes back, fuming with anger but covering your face pretty well. You turned to Baekhyun, your eyes telling him that he was in serious danger if he was not going to shut his fucking mouth up.

Baekhyun did not care your silent warning, but your hand on his knee was a real distraction for him.

“I know that he is not your type.” he murmured, watching your hand, small, pale, and soft, Baekhyun did not want to confess but he wanted to latch your fingers to his. “Is it Kyungsoo?”

“Do I interrogate your preferences of girls, damn?” you literally gritted between your teeth. “Leave it.”

“I have no intention.” Baekhyun turned to Kyungsoo, narrowing his eyes. “Let’s ask if you are Kyungsoo’s type.”

“What the fuck are you, cupid?!” you grunted, and your hands moved without your consent. You grasped Baekhyun’s jawline, your fingertips were brushing his ears. “I said, leave it.”

“If you want to shut my mouth,” Baekhyun beamed, ignoring the fact that your touch meant for a lot than he could expect, he was going to think about it later. “Tell me why I am not in your list.”

“No one can desire someone like you!” you exploded. “An arrogant, dandy, selfish boy who does not know nothing but bringing trouble to others. That’s why you can never be in my list, even I have to choose between you and an octopus. For the records, I hate octopus, but I would go for it, if it means the other option is you.”

“Oh, you hurt me.” Baekhyun’s eyes glimmered with the sparks of unnamed feelings. He leaned forward, enough you to feel his breath fanning your lips. “You know what, sweetheart? You are so aggressive only when you have a secret which have to stay only in your head.”

“W-what?”

“I am definitely in that list.” Baekhyun claimed it with confidence, but it was just the appearance. Inside him, his heart was definitely shuttering, cracking into pieces, he had no control over himself, he could not understand his sudden behaviours. “I am in your list, if there is a list.”

Your eyes widened, and pupils blown up.

“Jesus.” you snorted. “When you lost your fucking mind?”

“You are a pretty bad liar.” Baekhyun was making assumptions out of his ass in order to get a reaction from you, he was not fucking sure if he was in the list or not, but everything he said actually rang the true bells.

“And you are a lunatic.” your intense eyes pinned him down, and the frowning lips caught your attention, but you forced to came back to your senses as soon as possible. “You will never be anything more than a lunatic.”

You attempted to stand up, but he was incredibly swift to catch your wrist, pressing you back to the armchair.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” he held your wrist for his dear life, caging you and to your disappointment, coming closer to your face, causing your ability of speaking to be faded immediately.

His godfuckingdamnit lips.

“You have been having doubts on me since the day we met, your driving force is giving me hard time.” his breathing was fanning your cheekbones. "Confess now, why are you pissed at me all the time?”

“Hell, you do talk like you are so different. Aren’t you the one who always finds a way to be trouble for me?” you raised one eyebrow, letting him to realize the game was reserved for two people. “If it means liking someone, since when you have been fallen in love over heels with me?”

“You have no idea how much I want to place your heels over my shoulders.”

Your chin was dropped, his words had you turning into a mummy who was trying to register into his remarkable sentence without a single brain cell.

You had to come up with the best answer you could give. You had to find the best response to him, and it had to be a perfect balance of sharpness, cockiness, and matureness as it had to be said with the resting bitch face.

And you heard your own voice.

“Ha?”

“You heard what I said.” Baekhyun intensively gazed at you, the proximity between your bodies had your body quivering and trembling at the same time and his fucking knee slightly, almost insensibly pushed your legs apart.

“You are really nonsensical, Baekhyun.” you inhaled, doing your best in order to ignore all the jolts all over your body, numbing your mind but also setting the skin on fire. Every time you said his name, Baekhyun felt something turning in his lower stomach. “What the fuck you want from me?”

“You did not name me in your list.” You could not believe your fucking eyes, more importantly, you could not believe you were still listening his gibberish like a kindergarten kiddo. “But, I am better than everyone else here.”

His voice dropped the slightest, making you shiver.

“Would you like me to prove it to you?”

[imaginedhaven]

Reluctantly Rooming: Part One

Link to Masterpost

This was supposed to be a drabble, but there will be at least two more parts because the two other drabble prompts I’ve received so far all fit perfectly into the same theme as this one!

The prompt:

“I really would’ve liked it if you told me your parents were coming to town.” / “I really would’ve liked it if you put underwear on before coming into the kitchen.” 

I did tweak the precise wording as even in an AU I couldn’t picture a world where Rowan or Aelin’s parents were still alive into their adulthood, but I hope this meets the spirit of what my anonymous prompter was looking for!

If y’all have any more prompts or suggestions you would like to throw my way for things you would like to see as this relationship develops, my ask box is always open! But without further ado...

~*~*~

Aelin stretched her arms over her head with a yawn as she finally gave up on sleeping in. Her shift at the bar had run long, even more so than usual, and yet it seemed she still couldn’t sleep past ten in the morning no matter what she did. Perhaps it was time to invest in blackout curtains, after all.

Thankfully, even managing to sleep this late meant that she wouldn’t have to deal with her roommate as she started her day, so she slipped out of her bedroom and into the bathroom wearing nothing but an oversized shirt a former boyfriend had left behind when he left her. The guy had been an ass, but the shirt was the most comfortable thing she had ever slept in, and so she had long since decided it would be fine to keep.

As she glanced at the wreck that was her hair in the mirror and decided to leave it until she was more awake, she gave quiet thanks once more that Rowan would be off to his corporate job at wherever-it-was and not around to critique her messy hair and her messy life. They had been living together for about three months now, ever since her cousin Aedion had left his house behind for another deployment and Rowan had suddenly relocated from Doranelle. In theory it was meant to be a temporary arrangement, Aedion doing a favor for a friend since he wasn’t around to live in his own room, but if Rowan had actually made plans to move out yet he hadn’t informed Aelin.

Not that Aelin was doing much better in that regard. She had spent a year and a half now living in her cousin’s spare bedroom and working dead-end jobs. She felt she had a better excuse, though, since she was actually related to Aedion and was still trying to get her bearings after everything that had caused her to leave Rifthold.

Shaking her head in an attempt to dislodge that line of thinking, Aelin instead bent over the sink and hastily washed her face clean of the remnants of makeup that had lingered from the night before. She had crept back into the house sometime after three in the morning, and it had been late enough that her usual shower had been absolutely out of the question, so instead she had made do with sleepily swiping a washcloth over her face before dragging herself to bed. If her reflection was any indication, the effort had failed miserably.

Once she deemed her face to be clean enough for now, Aelin padded down the stairs with another yawn, intent on making coffee. After the late night she had had, she would absolutely need it if she had any hope of getting through her day.

Keeping her eyes on the floor in front of her to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally trip on something in her exhausted shuffle to the kitchen, she passed through the living room and successfully resisted the temptation to curl up on the couch for another nap. Instead, she finally reached the coffee machine that was sitting on the counter and began looking for wherever the hell Rowan had stored the coffee beans in his latest reorganization of the kitchen. Grumbling about men who were entirely too interested in organizing cabinets, she flung doors open at random until she saw the container resting on the very top shelf.

Damn Rowan and his freakishly tall self, he had hidden the coffee away where she could barely reach it. She was too exhausted still to find wherever he had tucked her stepstool away, though, so instead she sighed and reached for it. She let out a quiet noise of triumph as her fingertips brushed the container, edging it closer and closer to tipping off the shelf until she could grasp it more fully. Beans obtained, she set the container on the counter beside the coffee maker and froze when she heard a throat clearing behind her.

Fuck. In her exhausted daze, she had forgotten that it was Saturday and that Rowan wouldn’t be at his corporate job. Aelin took a deep breath to help steady her nerves and turned to meet his furious pine-green eyes.

She had not been expecting to also see a pair of dark eyes glimmering with amusement, but when she did it took everything she had not to immediately flee the kitchen.

The dark eyes belonged to a woman with equally dark hair and pale skin, lips painted red and curled in a smirk that immediately set Aelin on edge. “Why, Rowan,” she purred, sultry voice curling around the same accent that Rowan spoke with, “I wasn’t aware you had… company.”

“I don’t,” Rowan replied, voice clipped with barely-restrained irritation. “Aunt Maeve, this is my roommate. Aelin.”

“Um. Hi,” she managed as she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. They barely spoke, but she had overheard Rowan talking about his aunt before. The woman had raised him, as his own parents had died when he was young just as Aelin’s had. It appeared they were still close enough for her to come all the way from Doranelle to Orynth just to visit.

And Aelin had just met her wearing nothing but an oversized shirt, with her hair tangled in a wild halo around her face. There was no way for her to salvage this first impression, not now.

Suddenly her humiliation flared into anger. Why should she make a good first impression? This wasn’t any relation of hers, and Rowan hadn’t even bothered to tell her he’d have a guest over. It went completely against the house rules he’d been so insistent on having, and she couldn’t possibly be held responsible for what had just happened.

Her anger only sparked further as Maeve laughed, the humor in her voice not reaching those dark eyes. “It’s a pleasure, I’m sure,” the woman replied.

Before either of them could say anything else, Rowan stood. “Aelin. A word?”

She nodded quietly and one of his hands closed around her upper arm as he pulled her into the living room. Once they got there, he turned to face her, eyebrows drawn together in anger and one hand carding through his platinum hair. “You couldn’t get dressed before leaving your room just one morning?” he hissed.

“I thought you wouldn’t be here,” she replied hotly, struggling to keep her voice to a whisper as well. “Besides, if you were going to be like this about it I really would’ve liked it if you told me the woman who raised you was coming to town!”

“Yeah, well, I really would’ve liked it if you put underwear on before coming into the kitchen, and yet here. We. Are.” As he bit out the last words he grabbed her arm again, tugging her closer as he towered over her.

Aelin froze again, just as she had when he had alerted her to their presence. “How did you—?”

“You’re wearing a shirt and nothing else, Aelin. Did you really think it would cover everything when you were stretching your arms over your head?”

Fuck. So not only had she made an absolute fool of herself, she had exposed herself to a woman she hadn’t even met and to Rowan as well. And to think she had thought her morning couldn’t get any worse.

Finally, Rowan sighed. “Look, just… go upstairs and put some clothes on. Real clothes. I’ll start the coffee for you and deal with my aunt. Deal?”

Aelin nodded and darted up the stairs, not stopping to try to hear how Rowan was going to try to explain this to the woman in their kitchen.

By the time she had dressed and tamed her golden waves, Maeve had left and Rowan was sitting on the living room couch, two mugs of coffee steaming on the table in front of him. She swiped the one that was clearly meant for her, choosing for once to ignore the fact that he had to have touched her favorite mug in order to prepare it for her and instead inhaling the scent of the coffee. It had already been sweetened judging by the smell, and she blinked at her roommate over the rim of her mug.

“What?” he asked.

“You put sugar in this,” she accused.

Rowan snorted in reply. “Of course I did. I learned in three days you take your coffee as sweet as you can make it.”

It was completely true, of course, but Aelin wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying as much out loud. Instead she took a small sip of her coffee, moaning softly at the taste. It was perfect, of course, and it was infuriating how he had picked up on such a small detail of her morning routine when they barely interacted.

After a moment of silence, Rowan continued. “My aunt won’t be coming back,” he revealed. “I may have yelled at her for showing up unannounced and uninvited before you woke up, and you showing up as you did only solidified my argument for why that was a terrible idea.”

Aelin laughed. “So I actually did you a favor?”

“Don’t press your luck,” he retorted, but she took satisfaction in the almost-concealed smile that she barely saw cross his face. “I’m still annoyed with you.”

“Oh, come on,” she grinned. “You learned how I like my coffee, I saved you from overbearing parental figures. Maybe we can even figure out how to be friends.”

“What did I just say about pressing your luck?”

“Please, I press my luck every single day. I make a point of it, in fact. It usually works out.”

Aelin drained her coffee mug and set it back on the table before glancing over at Rowan. As she watched, he slowly shook his head. “You are absolutely unbelievable. You know that, right?”

Aelin laughed. “Of course I do. It’s all part of my charm.”

“I’m sure it is,” Rowan replied, obviously skeptical.

“What? It is! Two days ago you wouldn’t even talk to me, and look at us having coffee together like roommates who actually like each other.”

Rowan glanced at his own mug of coffee and smiled. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” she grinned. “Who knows, maybe we can actually learn to like each other. We’ll find the way together.”

Rowan sighed. “As long as it doesn’t involve you escalating from flashing my aunt to stripping for my coworkers.”

“Now there’s a thought,” Aelin mused.

As Rowan’s eyes widened in fear, Aelin doubled over laughing. “Gods help me, you actually thought I would do it!”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “At this point? I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire

[embyrinitalics]

Calamiversary: Flashbacks

Under the cut are a few unused flashbacks/dream sequences. I was actually really attached to some of these, and for a while I considered making an entire fic based on these two, but with Calamitous taking as long as it has my ambitions for that have fizzled out.

Anyways, I’m posting them in the order they appear in the google doc, but these are so old I can’t remember what was supposed to go where. 😂 Some of the scenes end midsentence, or have editing notes in them still, or don’t make sense because the surrounding scene never happened. Don’t think too hard about it. 😬

There’s about 3k words here, so. Hit that “keep reading” tag with caution!

Enjoy!

  Nightshade

He caught her looking, his expression amused and affronted at once.

“What are you documenting so studiously?”

“Nightshade,” she informed him coolly, and then angled the interface on him more obviously. “And something else, beautiful and strange.”

He loosed a breath, something caught between a laugh and a sigh, and tossed the stones back into the underbrush. “Are you playing with my feelings, Majesty?”

“Certainly not,” she breathed, admiring him in the viewscreen for another self-indulgent half-second before turning it on back on the flora. “I have a compendium to complete. I hardly have time for games.”

“Don’t tease me,” he murmured, folding his arms. “It isn’t easy being in love with a queen and a goddess.”

Her mouth twisted gently, swiping through the interface again and tapping more useless details into the entry. She muttered, “I’m not a goddess.”

He joined her in the grass, rocking back onto his elbow and tipping the interface back with one finger so she would meet his eyes, glimmering softly with the beginnings of a wry smile. “Who said I was talking about you?”

She smiled in earnest, letting the interface drop, forgotten, into her lap. “I wasn’t aware you were well acquainted with any other queens.”

He scoffed dismissively. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I’m sure,” she allowed, reaching to pick grass out of his hair and smoothing the wind-tousled bangs it had tangled in afterwards. She was grateful for the levity—grateful to him, for supporting her even when it meant denying himself.

So grateful...

And she still hadn’t untangled her fingers from his hair, from the soft edge of his hairline and his temple, the smooth line of his brow. He had gone quiet, eyes half closing and diverting, while he let her. He watched her palm for another second, two, and then closed a hand, gently, but firmly, over her wrist.

She swallowed, her hand hanging idly between them and the spell broken. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not stopping you for my sake,” he frowned. “It’s agony not having you, but I’m stupid enough to take what I can get.”

She sighed. “I can have you reassigned. No one would question it—”

“No, we’ve been over this,” he growled, running a hand tersely through his hair. “As long as I wield the Sword, my place is with you. And I can handle it.” Then he hesitated, expression shuttering, and he amended, “Unless you’ve changed your mind, and no longer wish it.”

Her hands were in the grass, eyes fixed on them, and her heart was throbbing in her throat. She couldn’t quite swallow it down.

She whispered, “No.”

  A Meeting

“Link,” she breathed, startled, their eyes meeting for a charged half-second.

He bent his head curiously in a rigid sort of bow, as though he was leaning away from the discomfort of their meeting.

“My lady.”

She waited, paralyzed, for him to move, or speak, or even look her in the eye again. But then, the ball was in her court.

It was always in her court.

But she was unprepared, and unarmored, and teetering dangerously at the precipice of a vulnerability she could not afford. And so, exercising her royal privilege as unmagnanimously as she likely ever had, she fled.

He caught her elbow as she made to pass him, sending a warm jolt up her arm. A rebuke danced wildly on the tip of her tongue, and she might even have used it had there been another soul anywhere within earshot of them. But the hallway was abandoned, and they were alone. His eyes were still fixed on the place she had been, the practiced stoicism in them, the practiced numbness in them, simmering with the frustration that he was harboring beneath.

“I won’t have this conversation with you now,” she reprimanded him quietly. “Not here.”

His gaze slid back to hers, burning, threatening to buckle with impatience or something far more desperate, and she wanted to flinch away from its intensity and luxuriate in it at once.

“When, Zelda?”

She took a meaningful step away, freeing her arm, and coolly arched a slender brow even as her heart sputtered at the cavalier way he used her given name in public.

“When we’re somewhere less conspicuous.”

She expected him to submit, tucking his tail begrudgingly between his legs and allowing himself to be put off yet again, but his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t scold me like I’m some child,” he scoffed.

  The Wilds

The carriage jostled down the path, headed for the milky spires that had been bobbing in and out of view for the last few hours. Her visit to the new reservoir in Lanayru had been successful, and pleasant enough as these sorts of things went, but there had also been a lot of pomp and formality surrounding the whole affair that left her craving some solitude and a good night’s rest in her own bed.

Both of which would happily get her out from under the stormy gaze of her Knight Protector.

Shielded by the walls of her carriage, she let herself grimace and sink a little lower in her seat. They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk in several days, what, with all the preparation for the journey and the constant company of the delegation. And she may have been avoiding him. Just a little.

And he seemed to have begun to notice, if the way his gaze burned into her any time she was careless enough to graze it was any indication.

The carriage jostled again violently as they rode over another pothole. And this time, the whole thing lurched to a stop beneath her as the axle snapped. She sighed, readying a gentle smile as the footman swung the door open.

“Hit a spot of trouble?”

“I’m afraid so, my lady,” he grumbled, offering her his hand.

“Please tell me you can fix it,” she said, brow puckered, letting him help her out and onto the road and trying very hard not to groan. She was not looking forward to walking the rest of the way.

“I doubt it very much, ma’am. But we’re nearly there. You could continue on horseback.”

She willed herself expressionless. The only horses saddled for riding were those of her escorts, which meant—

“I’ll take her.”

She didn’t need to guess who had spoken, or turn to picture the smug look on his face. She plastered an insincere smile over her mouth as his horse’s hooves beat an easy amble behind her for the footman’s sake—it wouldn’t do for him to see her furious or crestfallen or abjectly miserable over something as routine as a ride back to the castle from the man who was largely responsible for such things.

“Very well,” she said demurely, unable to conjure a decent excuse, and turned.

And there he was, perched atop his chestnut mare with an expression arguably more schooled than her own. She took his hand, hiding the warm jolt that ran up her arm, and let him lift her over the pommel, bidding the rest of the entourage farewell as he urged his horse forward and over the ridge.

When they had cleared the crest of the hill and taken the bend for a fair distance, he slowed them to a walk, letting the reins go slack and dipping his head to inhale the warm safflina in her hair.

“Link,” she mumbled, shrugging him off half-heartedly, but he wasn’t so easily deterred.

“We’re in the middle of the Wilds. No one is going to see. Just let me have this.”

Maybe it was the reasonableness of his argument, or maybe it was the note of heartache in his voice, so imperceptible only she would have ever noticed, but either way she let herself be coerced. They rode in silence a while, and she finally relaxed when he didn’t press her for more than that, letting herself lean a little into his chest. His hands rested idly on her waist, fingers curled loosely in the reins.

He said, “I missed you.”

She could feel his eyes looking cautiously for hers, but she pretended not to notice.

“You were with me every day.”

“No. I stared at the back of your head every day. That hardly qualifies.”

“I was busy.”

“You were avoiding me.”

She met his eyes then, ready to object, and quickly remembered why she had made every attempt not to. They looked right through her, melting her defenses and reducing her will to jelly. She sighed.

“I was avoiding you,” she agreed, settling against his chest again resignedly.

“I didn’t blame you,” he murmured, warm breath and lips moving softly against the lobe of her perfectly tapered ear, and her heart throbbed treacherously. “I knew why. It was just frustrating, not being able to talk to you about it."

Her eyes fell shut, stinging with remorse. She whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t do that. It was as much mine as it was yours.”

“I don’t regret it,” he said, quiet adamance coloring his voice, “not for a moment. Even if it means consequences for me.”

In spite of herself she smiled, warmed to the bone by his sweet assurance. “Even if you’re stripped of rank? Even if you’re whipped?”

“They can’t whip the memory of you out of me,” and then he leaned closer, his warm breath feathering her ear again, “Zelda.”

Not Princess, or My Lady, or Highness, or the plethora of other titles he was obligated to use in the presence of others. Merely Zelda. Because out in the Wilds of Hyrule they were alone, and a stolen kiss didn’t seem such a terrible secret. Even if it was forbidden. Even if she had made it abundantly clear to him that it could never happen again, no matter how sweet and perfect and wonderful it had been.

She sank back into him, letting the steady beat of their gait and of his heart lull her into a rare peace.

  Realization

When I woke there was moss against my cheek, the cool dew of early morning clinging to my lips and eyelashes. The vision from the night before danced in breaths and lights as I blinked myself lucid, like the ghosts of a dozen sunset fireflies. I wanted to chase them, down, down into a dream, into an illusion, and wrap myself in it like a blanket. And then, like a wish fulfilled, soft lips alighted on mine, encouraging me awake.

“Good morning,” he murmured, pulling me closer by the hand splayed over the small of my back, and that didn’t strike me as odd in the slightest.

I snagged fingers in the collar of his shirt and buried my face in his neck, breathing him in as I grudgingly left the dream behind, as I spiraled towards his warmth. He smelled like the forest, and nights spent in the wilds, and it was so good it made my eyes tremble shut.

“It can’t be morning,” I whispered, sighing, and he pulled me into his lap, humming in agreement, and pressed his lips to my pulse point.

The wind rippled across the plains, across the wilds, tangling in my hair and twisting it sideways, and neither of us paid any mind. It was too rare that we found ourselves like this, lost in each other and lingering in that quiet stretch of peace between sleep and waking to the world.

“I need to get you back,” he said, but even as he did wrapped his arms around my waist in silent, subconscious objection. “You’ll be missed.”

“Then let me be missed.”

His lips on my neck angled higher, gently coaxing me down, and just as they obligingly found that delicate spot behind my ear, he whispered apologetically, “We can’t.”

I resisted the urge to scowl, resting my forehead on his. He was right, of course. But that didn’t mean I had to like it. My eyes eased open in time to watch the sunrise over his shoulder.

Another dawn. I knew there couldn’t be many left before the Calamity finally stirred from its long slumber, restless, feverish, hungry and ready to devour the world…

And then I realized how little of this made any sense—how incredibly blue his eyes were, how the voice I had been using wasn’t even mine—and the jarring disconnect between who I was and where I was broke the illusion apart.

  The Blade of Evil’s Bane

She opened her eyes as she felt a weight being lifted off her back.

And then she watched as Revali drove the Master Sword through Link’s middle to the hilt. (chapter break, then she freaks out, catches him, and his eyes start to roll back)

“Don’t you die on me,” she shouted through furious tears, pressing her fingers to his forehead. “Don’t you die!”

And then light filled her from the inside out as she bridged their minds, glaring across the world like a sun rising from within.

He sat across from her at her writing desk, still blurry from the haze of her tears, but she could hear the sardonic smile on his voice.

“Is that an order, Princess?”

She wanted to berate him, wanted to scream and fight tooth and nail against his apathy, but she couldn’t find her voice—not without loosing everything else that was threatening to spill out. She stood and crossed the room to nowhere, trying to shield herself from his ridicule. He sighed, following slowly.

He turned her around gingerly and took her face in his hands, studying her carefully while he thumbed her tears away.

“Why do you cry over me?” he murmured. “By rights I should have been dead thousands of years ago—even if I had defeated Ganon. This era will go on without me. I’m nothing.”

She took a sharp, stinging breath, and whispered, “Not to me.”

His lip quirked up in spite of himself, a familiar, roguish half-smile alighting on his face that made her heart stammer. “Never cry over your soldiers, Princess,” he scolded her gently. “They’re only too happy to die to protect you.”

“Don’t give up,” she warbled, a fresh rush of tears spilling out of her eyes, down her cheeks, over his thumbs still cupping her face. “Please don’t. Not like this.”

“Hyrule will go on. So will you.”

“I heard what you said to Urbosa,” she accused him, reaching for something, anything, that would make him hold on for just a moment longer. “You were wrong. I’m not confused. Not anymore.”

That gave him pause. His eyes searched her, gradually shedding the armor that they had always worn, piece by heavy piece, revealing the tired, consuming sadness beneath.

“Don’t cry over me, Princess,” he murmured, drifting closer. The bridge of his nose brushed softly against hers as he angled her face higher, poised to lance through her walls even as his own crumbled. “It pains me more than you know.”

He took her lips in his own, deepening the kiss obediently when she parted for him, and a sound lifted out of her. She wanted to lose herself in him, dive headlong into sating oblivion and never surface. But she found the will to pull away.

“Then don’t do this,” she urged, breathless, against his mouth.

He lingered, warm breath ghosting heavy on her lips. His voice was quiet, husky, desire tempered by regret. “Overcoming the Blade of Evil’s Bane is not so easily done.”

“I can save you,” she whispered, stepping closer, stripping away the needless space between them. “Never doubt that.”

“I have never doubted you,” he said, so tenderly her heart squeezed. “I’ve always known you were capable of so much more than you ever dreamed. But this—”

“I won’t let you go. I’ll order you back from the grave if I have to.”

He sighed at that, a defeated, hollow sound, and her lips parted gently in surprise. “I’m just so tired.”

And then he gasped, like a drowning man drawing breath after so many minutes, and the dream bled out into light.

She blinked away sunbursts and the blindness that followed, stumbling haphazardly back to reality. Link was in her arms; the hole through his stomach was gone.

 Ruins

The sunlight dimmed into night, luminous stone embedded in the sculptures lighting the darkness like softened stars. The ruins grew into an atrium, looming over the gathered order of monks and their commander. Her knight stood as far away as he dared, near the entrance, should there be a disturbance. It was nearly as far away as he had had the will to station himself in weeks.

“The final sensor towers have been erected, and Naboris is nearly ready to be deployed,” a monk was saying, the tattoos under his eyes catching starlight as he spoke. “Her pilot is in the final phases of training.”

The proclamation didn’t garner the reaction anyone was hoping for; the Queen merely nodded, lips pursed. Another monk shifted, as though weighing the wisdom of disturbing the silence that had settled uncomfortably over the assembly, before he decided to be bold.

“I had an idea for another Beast. Nothing so large or so complicated as the others. Something for Hylia’s Chosen—”

“No,” the Queen murmured. “There isn’t time.”

His teeth met with a click. He sent a sidelong glance to her knight, standing with his back against one of the pillars flanking the entrance, but he shook his head in subtle warning, and that put pain to it. He seemed less and less inclined to voice dissent recently, and everyone suspected they knew why.

“Then we’ll redouble our efforts with the Divine Beasts we have,” he offered instead, wearing a reassuring smile. “We won’t fail you, Your Highness.”

She nodded again, smiling tightly. They were dismissed, and her knight drifted closer, moving towards her as the others filed away. She was still sitting on the ground; he offered her his hand, and she met his eyes. She took it, lifting to her feet, and didn’t let go, squeezing softly.

She whispered, eyes depthless in their uncertainty, “But will we fail them?”

[carnelianns]

Cold Soup (Oliver Knight)

Genre: Sickening Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: a result of my overwhelming love for oliver and my hopeless romantic tendancies

“Can you at least look at me?”

The question was tinted with exasperation and the slightest bit of pleading, the grimace on Oliver’s face certainly unfit for such a handsome gentleman and his lovely date, only illuminated by the wanly saturated lights of the quaint yet elegant restaurant.

It had never occurred to him when he awoke that fine morning — with you in his arms, no less — the thought that you’d be giving him the cold shoulder for the rest of the day, a pout unbecoming on your face making itself a permanent visitor. 

Granted, what had occurred to him — unfortunately far too late for you to accept a simple apology — was the fact that he maybe should have refrained from calling you a “cold bowl of soup for a sick man during the winter” whilst feeling particularly stressed… In his defense, there were quite a few deadlines stacking up, but excuses against an ill-tempered woman work just as well as a white crayon on white paper.

Which brings him to his current situation; stuck waiting for the bill in a picturesque restaurant — one which, sadly, did not improve your mood — after quite a delicious dinner, and still unable to get you to speak, much less to look at him without the cross look on your face.

Oliver inwardly sighs. No choice. 

Proceeding to throw you that sweet smile he knows gets your knees weak, his fingers travel across the finely-clothed table to reach your hands, gently pressing his own against yours as he rubs comforting circles with his thumb.

“Love,” his voice was all sorts of low and lovely, only causing you to tense up under his grasp, “why don’t you turn that sweet, little head of yours towards me?”

Hectic spots of red burn on your cheeks, the fiend opposite of you only inwardly smirking, though making no move to halt his ministrations. Finally, you turn your head towards the man, your soft grumblings almost drowning in the various causeries in the background.

“... Don’t think you can sweet talk you way out of this, Mr. Knight.” Curt and sharp is your tone, eyes narrowing slightly at the man in front of you. “I’ll have you know it’ll take more than a dinner date to make it up to me.”

There’s a slight falter in Oliver’s confident countenance, though it seems futile to bring it up when he simply grins at you once more, leaning in slightly in a way that only brings your eyes to widen. “And I’ll have you know that this is far from just a dinner date.”

It, in fact, is not. Oliver Knight may be an admittedly handsome face, one which women willingly throw themselves at and have been doing so for god knows how long, but he can count on his mere two hands just how many dates he’s been on, even less — barely any, really — the ones he’s actually enjoyed. 

(He only ever does enjoy the ones with you.)

“Oh? How so?” Elevating your eyebrows, a teasing smile is quick to set itself on your lips, allowing your face to fall into the palm of your free hand. 

It’s a challenge, and by the way his grin widens, viridian eyes taking in a certain gleam, one Oliver is all too keen to accept.

Just as the waiter sets the long-awaited bill back, Oliver is immediately standing, throwing a few bills on the table and intertwining his long, calloused fingers with yours, hurriedly pulling you out of the restaurant. 

Your questioning splutters are quieted down when he throws you a mischievous smirk, only able to focus on the the way the corner of his eyes crinkle ever-so slightly, the echo of your light footsteps against hard concrete, the feel of the cool breeze running against your skin and the warmth of his hands.

Feverish excitement courses through your veins as Oliver leads you through the empty streets of Cradle’s evening, your hand in his as he leads you to god knows where. 

“Oliver! Where are we even going?” Breathless is your tone, unable to take a break due to his tight grasp on your hand.

He only raises a brow, meeting your gaze with a roguish smile, “Just trust me, dummy.”

And trust you do — as you’ve always been, from the very moment your unknowing self had wandered into this Wonderland and into the heart of a snarky young man.

Your question is answered when you find yourself back at the garden on top of the Central Quarters, sitting snug on the jacket Oliver had so gentlemanly set on the grass to keep your clothes from dirtying. 

Humming softly, Oliver’s warmth is flush against your side as you lean into him. The way his muscles tense is clear in the slanting beams of the moonlight, though he only pulls you closer in a way he doesn’t do so very often.

“You’re awfully proactive today.” You aren’t able to smother the growing grin on your face.

“My girlfriend’s been throwing a temper tantrum the whole day.” He scoffs. “I don’t think I can clear up the situation by being anything else.”

Silence broods over the atmosphere, the way you stilled terribly obvious against Oliver’s body. Turning his head to meet your gaze, he shoots you a questioning look, almost as if asking, “what now?”

“You called me your girlfriend…” The thought hangs lonely in the air for a moment as you fail to contain your smile. “I don’t think I’ve heard you say that a lot. It’s… nice.”

“... Tch.” Had you looked up in that moment, you would have been witness to a very flushed Oliver, looking away in a desperate attempt to shove down his blush. 

In the silence, you realise that there’s a certain sort of intimacy in the act of watching the moon, more-so with the one you love; perhaps it was the cause of the sudden bout of nostalgia in your veins, the subtle hints of fervor in Oliver’s faint touches. 

“I can’t believe it all started here,” you muse a bit absentmindedly, dimly conscious of the way his head moves to watch your face. “When I fell through the sky following ever-clumsy Blanc.”

His grumble in reply is incoherent, the only thing you’re aware of being how his grip on you tightens in the slightest before your back is flat against his jacket, caged in between his strong arms. Wide eyes stare up at the scowl on Oliver’s face, a different kind of breathtaking in front of the glimmering background.

“First you say such innocent words, then you have the audacity to utter another man’s name in my presence.” Nipping scoldingly at your ear in a way that only makes you gasp in surprise, Oliver narrows his eyes. “God, you don’t know what you do to me, woman.”

He isn’t all that sure what he’s expecting from you, but it certainly wasn’t for you to cup his face, your fingers slowly dragging slow and gentle across his cheeks. 

“Enlighten me, please.”

Ah, he thinks. It’s too much. The sweet lilt of your voice, the bright look in your eyes which even put the stars to shame, the warmth of you etching itself into his heart. He quite dislikes how you still manage to look so beautiful, even when teasing him like this.

“Haah, you’re a real handful.” He finds himself collapsing in the space beside you in defeat, throwing an arm across his flushed face.

“Not a handful, just a cold bowl of soup for a sick man during the winter, obviously.”

“You’re still mad?”

Blemished with surprise is Oliver’s face, unable to hide the slight jut of his bottom lip forward, or the way his eyebrows knit together in worry as he peeks up from behind his arm. His features quickly morph into another scowl when your laugh reaches his ears, bright, unbothered, and all sorts of cheeky.

“How could I be mad at my lovely boyfriend?”

Your tone is teasing, though Oliver is helpless as you shift to lean on your side, snuggling closer into his chest. And he had never been one for physical affection, but he swears that he could die a happy man in this position. 

A comfortable silence lingers through the air much longer than anticipated, only being broken once more by your lover’s deep voice.

“... Whenever you smile, I have to pause for a few moments because it’s far too bright. It’s infuriating.” 

His sudden confession has you looking up in shock, a red and scowling Oliver ignoring your reaction.

“Whenever you cry, I don’t know whether to loathe the idiot who made you like that, or myself for being unable to comfort you.”

The cool breeze caresses your face just as Oliver takes its place, staring deeply into your eyes. Silence holds you captive as you see his expression — softened, unguarded, and.. in love. 

“And whenever you’re mad, the only thought in my head is to get you to smile once more. I can’t stand the sight of it.”

There’s a sudden, sharp pinch at your ear, inducing a yelp out of your lips as you rub at the sore spot. 

“Now don’t ask me to ‘enlighten you’ anymore,” he scowls, a dark flush of embarrassment stealing into his cheeks. “We don’t need two idiots running around Cradle. One is already enough.”

“It’s okay, Oliver, we all know you love this idiot,” you tease, cuddling into his chest.

His infamous scoff resonates through the air, in contrast to the long arms snaking around your waist, only bringing about a content smile on your face. 

Only when your breathing becomes paced and shallow, and when your eyelids droop all the way to a close does Oliver sigh, viridian eyes meeting the knowing gaze of the beaming moon.

“I must be the idiot, if I would willingly have that damned cold soup…”

[yinxiong]

tonight, we’re catching fire

muse: lee juyeon x reader (2nd person perspective)

genre: revolution! au, angst + fluff

word count: 1315

warnings: none

summary: what kind of revolution had room for love?

notes: should be self explanatory, but this was inspired by tbz’s reveal (catching fire) performance bc i am so fucking gone for it !!! also lowkey inspired by this post here lol . hope y’all enjoy <3

-

“It’s almost time,” Juyeon whispers the moment you two meet in the middle of the dance floor. His face is hidden behind a beautiful mask of midnight, the black velvet decorated with glossy raven feathers and golden thread that matched the trim on his costume. You had spent days on the entire ensemble, making sure he would blend in with the aristocrats seamlessly, though looking at his bedazzled figure now you wonder if you had done your job a little too well (your quickening heart certainly thinks so). Grateful for your own mask to hide the rising blush in your cheeks, you nod, curtsying briefly before taking the outstretched hand he offers.

“I know,” you reply, settling your fingers on his upper arm as he slides his own around your waist, pulling you close. The hand that holds yours gives a light squeeze, and at the start of the violins, the two of you are gliding away in a flawless waltz, one taught by Changmin and practiced every night for the past month. “I’ve been watching the clock.”

Hanging on the far side of the ballroom, the giant golden disc in question glimmers idly, its hands moving tortuously slow on its journey to midnight. You and Juyeon have been waiting hours for that final strike, the cadence that signaled the end of a day and the start of another. Somewhere in the castle, the other Phantoms were waiting for it too— the strike that will determine the fate of the world.

Yet a part of you wishes it would never come. A selfish desire, considering all the work and planning everyone had put into tonight, to ensure that not a single thing would go wrong. There were lives at stake, after all. Except it really hadn’t occurred to you until now— spinning around a room that sparkled as if it were from a dream, held so delicately by Juyeon like you were a pair of noble lovers who didn’t have sharpened blades hidden within your gilded clothing, didn’t have a mission sitting heavy on your shoulders— that maybe you wanted this moment to last.

“What’s on your mind?” His voice is soft in your ear, a lyrical lilt that blends right into the orchestra playing in the distance. It’s familiar, one you have come to know like a dear friend over the years of working together, and right now it has never felt more comforting. Taking a breath, you allow yourself to relax a bit, to enjoy this dance that neither of you were actually invited to in the first place.

“Truthfully?”

“Truthfully.”

“Well, besides the dread that I might mess up and cause the entire mission to fail,” you laugh deprecatingly just before he twirls you, “I’m wondering how I managed to make you look so good.”

When you return to his arms, you find yourself pressed flush against his chest, his gaze peering curiously into your own through that mask so rudely concealing his flawless features. His tongue darts out briefly to wet his lips, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of how close your faces are. “How do you mean that?”

“I— I’m admiring how well your costume turned out,” you manage, hoping your painfully red cheeks aren’t too evident beneath the glow of chandeliers.

“And not the person wearing it?” There’s a gleam in his eyes, one you haven’t encountered before. While you felt unnerved, something about it made him even more endearing. Made you want to cross the borders you hadn’t ever dared cross.

Scoffing, you reach up and flick him in the forehead. “I didn’t realize you were such a narcissist, Juyeon. Maybe you should’ve been born a prince after all.”

He smirks, “Well, that might become reality soon enough.”

It was thrilling, talking about the downfall of the royal family in their very own ballroom. Their lavish lifestyles and selfish rule were heard of by many across the kingdom, but known most of all by those that worked in the palace. After years of witnessing their incompetence to save or even care about the dying country, a number of you finally decided that it was time to end their reign. With the help of some nobles like Changmin and Sunwoo, the band crafted an elaborate plan to expose the royal family’s crimes and steal the crown, to be carried out over the period of a year. The months had passed by quickly, and soon the preparations were finished. But your jobs weren’t complete yet— even if the people were now festering with anger, the fuse that would spark everything was still unlit.

And time was running out.

“For the record, you should have more confidence in yourself.” Juyeon is still staring down at you when you come back to your senses, hands falling to rest on your waist as you slowly sway to the final measures of the song. “Everything is going to go well, you’re not going to mess anything up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And why should I believe that?”

He bites his lip, nervous for a reason you cannot decipher. “Because you have me?”

“And you’re enough?”

“I mean, I should hope so.”

The violins have faded and everyone around you is bustling to join in on the next dance, but neither of you dare move, suspended in your own little bubble at the edge of the ballroom.

“You know,” he says, breath soft on yours, “You look really good in your dress too.”

“Sunwoo is watching,” you blurt dumbly, as if the duke’s son could do anything to stop the two of you right now. Juyeon pauses, eyes falling to your mouth. “I don’t care,” he declares, and before you know it his lips are warm against yours, gentle and sweet and tasting like the strawberry champagne you had passed off to him earlier.

Not once has it ever crossed your mind that something in this world could be described as perfect, because your entire life has been full of flaws up until now. But then Juyeon tilts his head for a better angle and curls his fingers into your hair and you might just pass out from how utterly right this feels. When you tug at his bottom lip, he lets out a soft moan, and that’s all it takes for you to cup his face and press closer, closer so there’s no longer a distance between that leaves your heart wrenching.

You don’t want this to end, you don’t want him to pull away, you don’t want to return to the quiet stares and awkward smiles and unfulfilled longing. Both of you have been wanting this for a while now, you realize with a jolt, and at once you kiss him harder.

Unfortunately, even the sweetest of dreams will cease, come morning.

“It’s time,” you whisper the moment you two separate. Juyeon’s eyes look pained, with a hint of regret, and you almost kiss him again. However, you both know there are far more pressing matters at hand.

There are five minutes until the clock strikes midnight. Five minutes for you to move into position. Five minutes before the country gets completely turned on its head.

Juyeon grasps your hands once more, lacing your fingers together as he memorizes your eyes. “We’re going to come out of this alive, alright?”

You nod, not daring to show any weakness in your final moments together. “Of course. Who else would wear the crown other than you?”

He laughs, pure and bright. It’s enough to light up the sky, you’re certain.

“Ready to catch fire?”

The revolution was starting. Tomorrow, the king will be no longer. Tomorrow, your blade will be stained with blood.

“I have always been ready.”

Tonight, the world will be covered in flames.

“Then let’s go reveal the true king.”

And when the day breaks, Juyeon will still be standing by your side.

-

fin.

[thelightiningthief]

14

first of all, SORRY that this is coming much later than probably expected!!!! i’m So Bad at writing things in a timely manner

second of all, timelines are....not my strongsuit, so i’m gonna make this idk the summer between botl and tlo so PLEASE bear with me here

chilly summer evenings

Percy lay on the bottom bunk of Cabin 3, staring up at the pictures stuck between the frame and the mattress above him. His arm had already gone numb from propping up his head, but that was the least of his worries.

It was the first of August. The beginning of the month that decided his fate. Well, Percy would be the one making the decision, but it was still the Big Month everyone had been waiting for: the prophecy coming true, the imminent war, Kronos’s impending return in Luke’s body. All of it put a sour taste in his mouth that the fresh sea breeze from the Long Island Sound couldn’t whisk away. It wasn’t like he could do anything right now, though, so why was he still up?

Well, there was one picture in particular that kept drawing his attention: It was him and Annabeth after they’d just won the chariot race together, right before Thalia had been de-tree-ified. The edges of the photograph were frayed from how many times he’d held it in his hands, shoved it into his pockets, and crammed it into whatever small space he could. While it was supposed to be in the Big House on Chiron’s cork board, Percy had asked him if he could hold onto it until the end of the summer. Chiron knew this might be his last summer (hell, it might be the last summer any of them would enjoy), so he relented it to him. Ever since, Percy had stared at it any chance he got, memorizing the happiness it held. A small glimmer of hope.

What he was really looking at, though, the thing that sourced all of that hope in a tiny bottle, was Annabeth’s smile. Percy must have already traced that giant and rare smile a thousand times, practically having imprinted it to the back of his eyelids, but he didn’t think he could ever get sick of it.

Things between them had been... Strange. Good strange! Well, sometimes bad strange... But overall just strange? Did that make sense?

Who was he kidding—nothing made sense anymore. They were on the brink of war for Zeus’s sake! But Annabeth had kissed him before he almost died (for the bajillionth time), but they still hadn’t talked about it. Every time Percy even thought about bringing it up to her, his head felt like cotton and he couldn’t feel his knees. At first, he thought a wood nymph was messing with him, but Grover and Beckendorf both said he was probably just nervous.

They were a lot closer than last summer. But he could say that about any of his friends! Him and Beckendorf had been talking a lot more, too! Most of their talks had to do with Annabeth and Percy’s giant crush on her, but that was besides the point.

Before he could even consider actually turning in for the night, there’s a sharp rap at his door. His body is up with a hand flying to his—oh, right, he’s in boxers. Percy considers his game plan when there’s another knock, a bit more urgent this time. “C’mon, Seaweed Brain! It’s freezing out here!”

His once held breath catches in his throat. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to late nights like this with Annabeth, but it was the first one since everything went down. Since they’d destroyed the Labyrinth. Since he’d practically killed himself. Since she’d kissed him.

“That’s it, I’m just coming in,” she huffed out, clearly annoyed. (Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last time.) Then Percy’s cabin door was opening right before his eyes to reveal... No one. Just a gust of cold wind that raised goosebumps on his bare skin. He shivered as the door closed just as eerily, and Annabeth finally took off her Yankee’s cap only to punch his arm.

“Ow!” he winced and rubbed the spot. “What was that for?”

“Dude it’s freezing out there, and you were just standing here? Figures,” she rolled her eyes and threw herself onto his scattered bed.

Percy bristled at the slight jab. “Well, sorry! You kind of just dropped in!”

“Excuse me, I came in the front door. And you had more than enough time to put on pants, at least,” she pointed out, covering his lower half with her hands with a giggle.

A harsh blush crept up his cheeks, and he quickly moved to his dresser as she continued to laugh at his embarrassment. He was just buttoning up his jeans when Percy noticed Annabeth was lying back on his bed, mimicking the pose he’d held just ten minutes before. In the dim light from the moon, he could just see a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Where’d you get all these pictures?” she whispered out.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking over to the fountain Poseidon had gifted to him. “Uh, all over, I guess? They just kept popping up, and I’d asked Chiron if I could have a few.” He said the last part faster than the rest, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on it.

Annabeth’s head perked up to look at him sideways, her gray eyes a bit wider than they had been a moment prior. She searched his own green ones for an answer to an unasked question. It wasn’t difficult for Percy to feel as though he were being scrutinized and start to feel self conscious about the whole situation. Was she seeing right through him?

“What? I just—I just wanted the memories, I guess,” he mumbled out, crossing his arms semi-defensively.

She peered up at him for longer, her eyebrows coming down slowly yet decisively. He didn’t know if he should say something, but he didn’t even know where to start. Yeah, I’ve pretty much collected pictures of us to stare at late at night, because I kinda really like you. In fact, you caught me in the middle of doing that tonight! Ha! Great timing, by the way. Gods, that’d just be weird!

Suddenly, she was up and dragging him by the arm out the door of his cabin. “Let’s go, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy barely had enough time to snatch his blanket from the bed before they were thrust out into the chilly evening air. There was no need to worry about harpies with impending war, but Apollo and Artemis seriously needed to work something out, because it felt completely unprecedented to be this cold at the beginning of August. His teeth were chattering by the time Annabeth had plopped herself down on the sand of the beach, dragging him down with her; she took the blanket clenched in his freezing fists and worked determinedly to wrap them both within it.

After a moment of simply basking in the sudden warmth, Percy became uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Annabeth. To make matters worse, if he scooched even a little to his right, the blanket would completely relent and let in that frigid sea air. So, he sat perfectly still, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

“You okay, Perce? We can go back if you want,” she said with a slight twinge in her voice that made him look at her for what felt like the first time that night.

Her hair was glowing in the moonlight, silver as if she had joined the Hunters, yet still that bright golden ray of light Percy was so accustomed to seeing a dirty blonde after weeks on a quest. The gray streak that matched his own was tucked behind her ear, and a reminder of a time of longing that he’d rather forget. It was difficult to see in just moonlight, but he could definitely tell her cheeks were flushed, especially with all the staring he was doing at her. In all honesty, it felt as if he were studying a painting. A splash of freckles and a few stray zits were scattered across her face, like brush strokes to a canvas.

However, it was her eyes that made him see the true meaning behind the work. People may call Percy dumb, but there was no mistaking the trust Annabeth was pouring into her downturned, storm-cloud eyes. They were focused so forcedly on his own, that he couldn’t help but come back to them each time he attempted to look at the rest of her face. It took him by surprise, because how could she trust someone like him so wholeheartedly? He’d nearly gotten her killed too many times—at some points he had almost been the one to do it.

“How can you do that?” he asked, looking out to the waves crashing on shore and breaking the trance that was Annabeth.

She had been leaning in just slightly, but jerked back just as much once he wasn’t looking at her anymore. Blinking slowly, Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “What d’you mean?”

He sighed almost exasperatedly, but it was too halfhearted to get anywhere. The next set of waves crashed a little harder than before. “I mean, how can you look at me like I’ll never do anything to hurt you? Like I’m not—not about to decide the fate of the world? Not about to destroy everything just by existing? St. Helen wasn’t even me trying, Annabeth. What else am I capable of?”

There was silence. As silent as it could get with a heavily breathing boy on a beach with a girl looking at him with that kind of look so full of something that everything has to be quiet, just for the time being.

“Percy...” Annabeth started, quieter than the now-swirling sea, “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

His eyes found hers again, both of their eyebrows knit together like the sweaters they’d wished they brought. Again, Percy was so aware of her warmth seeping into him, keeping him present. “Why wouldn’t you be?” His soft voice carried itself to span the few inches between them, once more holding the weight of the world in their midst.

For a second, Annabeth looked as though she was going to laugh, but decided against it. At first, it could be brushed off as a ridiculous thought, but she knew what Percy was capable of right now—what about when he grew more fully into his powers? She shook her head, No, not even then.

“Percy.” She said his name more resolutely this time, placing her hand on his shoulder to turn him towards her. “You may have power none of us will ever know, but...you’re you. It’s not like you’re some evil mastermind plotting against us.”

A single, unsaid name hung in the air.

“How do you know, though? You’ve heard the prophecy.” Percy’s eyes were searching her own again, looking for some hint of doubt.

Annabeth sighed sadly, letting go of his shoulder and pulling him into her arms. “Because—‘Cause the Percy I know wouldn’t destroy a world with his mom in it. The Percy I know wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.” She took a cold breath, smoothing her hand on his back. “And the Percy I know wouldn’t let some stupid prophecy try to stop him from protecting the people he loves.”

Percy stayed still, frozen, but not from the midnight air. “How do you know I’m that Percy still?” The whisper was slightly muffled from Annabeth’s curly hair, but she’d heard him all the same, as signaled by her hand stopping in the middle of its up and down motion.

“I just know.” And it was said with the finality only a daughter of Athena could possess, could hold within her, and could throw back at someone whenever they questioned her.

It was no use for Percy to fight it anymore, so he finally, finally, finally relaxed into her arms, pulling his own around her. The waves slowed on the beach, taking to being pulled by the moon once again. And, for once, they simply sat there, surrounded by a now-sandy blanket that he’d probably have to wash the next morning and an unrelenting breeze that hardly bothered them. Sure, in two weeks time Percy would most likely be dying at the foot of a crumbled Olympus, but he couldn’t worry about that with the cool sea air filling his lungs and Annabeth’s calloused hand rubbing circles into his back. No, that could wait with the blanket.

[opallene]

Unexpected

A short fic based on the first episode of Digimon Adventure: (2020).  Taishiro.

~~~~

The young boy looks in the hall mirror.  Steeling himself.  He hadn’t meant to look, but when he caught sight of his own furrowed brow on his way out, he had to stop.  Take just one more deep breath.  Recite inside his head the mantra that he knows is logical and true: “If you don’t ask, you cannot get the information you require.”

Fourth-grader Koushiro Izumi has already formulated the plan: This would be an entirely transactional encounter.  So what if he gets a weird look, a rude question, or some backhanded snide comment from the boy who lives downstairs?  He can weather it, as long as he succeeds in the small and, he reminds himself, entirely achievable mission that he has set before himself.

Out the door, into the summer air.  A little humid, but faintly sweet…Reminds him of summer camp.  That upcoming summer camp - the inconvenient begetter of this current gap in knowledge.  Why couldn’t this be handled online?  (If the camp organizers had just added a social media component…)  Why does his next hope rest on a physical encounter? Annoying.

The most dreadful part is, he’s already stuck with this Yagami kid in the same Summer Camp group, whether he likes it or not.  So, he’ll try to make a good impression.  Be as inoffensive as possible.  If Yagami has a problem with him -- well, that will just have to be on him, then.

As he shuffles along the outdoor terrace on his floor, he is faced with the memory of an encounter with some of his classmates last week.

“What do you have there, four-eyes?”

He rolls his eyes -- inside his imagination only.  I don’t even wear glasses, he thinks.

“It’s, uhm, it’s my persona1l Timeline…I can get all kinds of information from different sources…”

“Wow, that’s boring.  What a loser.  You know what tablets are for, Poindexter?”  The offending classmate elbows his buddy and beckons him over for a look.  “Hey, Tanaka.  Look at all that nerd stuff Izumi’s got over here.”

“Tablets are for playing games, duh.”

“Totally.”

“Watching TV!!”

“That too.”

Koushiro’s classmates start miming their impression of a studious person tapping away at a tablet and adjusting an imaginary pair of glasses.

He sighs.  It was easy to walk away from that one, and most of the others before it.  He can do it again, if needed.  But he would really rather not make another enemy right here among his own neighbors at his own home…especially the older fifth-grade kid he’d soon be forced to spend Summer Camp with.  He knows this Yagami kid is somewhat popular – which is probably bad news for him.

Down the stairs, around the corner.  It will all be over soon.

He checks the doorplate to make sure he’s got the right unit.  Yagami.  Yes.  Here goes…

The door opens.  He takes a step back.  “Um…”

The Yagami boy suddenly looms before him.

“Hello, I’m from upstairs…” Koushiro manages.

Yagami smiles and lights up with recognition.  He leans forward confidently.  “Ah, I’ve seen you around!  You’re a fourth grader…”

Koushiro Izumi is surprised that any of his neighbors, let alone another schoolkid, has paid enough attention to know what grade he’s in.  He straightens up and provides a proper introduction.  As proper as can be.  Introductions, at least, are a social playbook he can follow.

The Yagami kid is relaxed. A little too relaxed.  Clearly, introductions are nothing sacred to him.  No big deal.

But…while most kids his age would probably just mumble through, shrug it off and try to get back to whatever it was they’d been doing before their parents or a schoolteacher had forced them to interact, this kid is totally different.  His grin covers his entire face, and he looks completely…genuine.

Koushiro releases some of the tension in his shoulders and tentatively offers a smile back.  He returns the greeting.  Yagami…Taichi-san, was it?  Maybe he would actually be kind of a nice guy.  Maybe he wouldn’t give him any problems at all and summer camp would be…tolerable?

Oh, right.  Summer camp!  The reason he had come.  He stammers, trying to find the best way to preface his question.  But before he can properly ask, Yagami starts talking over him.  Casually invites him inside.  And, he says… “Just call me Taichi.”

Koushiro stares.  He is quite frankly baffled by this kid’s behavior.  He couldn’t possibly just step inside a stranger’s home so suddenly…

An urgent newsfeed catches his attention.  Something is going on…downtown?

This looks bad.  The two new acquaintances watch together for a moment.  This is no time to worry about being teased – !  The tablet device comes out, and Koushiro starts scanning for some posts he saw a little while ago that might be connected…

He’s in his own world for a moment, but suddenly he senses the other boy behind him, leaning in close. Fixated on the tablet with surprising intensity.  As soon as he reaches full awareness of this, Koushiro reflexively offers up an apology and explanation.

But this kid…Taichi Yagami-san…He looks genuinely interested.  Would he actually…care to know more?   Koushiro continues, uncertainly.  “This is my ‘Timeline’…”

There’s no way to miss it – The other boy faces him squarely, trying to soak up every detail as he listens intently.

“Wow.”

“Huh?”

“I’m really bad at that kind of stuff.”  Taichi leans in closer.  Practically in his face.  With a big, goofy grin and an excited glimmer in his eyes.  “You’re awesome!”

Koushiro is momentarily frozen.  None of this…none of it at all…is what he expected.  He turns.  He…smiles back.  There’s a moment.  A moment where he feels light; he feels – seen?  He feels appreciated in a way few other than his parents have ever…

Oh!  R-right. There’s an urgent matter at hand and, um, what is he thinking anyway?

He clutches the tablet to his chest and dives back into his task.

Suddenly, all of the hesitancy from before is gone.  Taichi may not be following every technical detail, but he’s right there on the same page. They talk through scenarios.  Their dialogue flows as naturally as though they’ve known each other for years.

At the same time, Koushiro’s heart is racing.  He soon starts babbling again – But this time it’s idle practicalities in the face of a possible disaster.  Electricity?  Batteries? Before long, he really doesn’t know what he’s even been saying anymore... But he’s forgotten his earlier anxieties and hesitations completely.

***

I met this boy today, Koushiro reflects much later in the day.

A lot – A LOT – has happened since then.

But it had started just then – Something pumping his blood, something that wouldn’t stop.  The adrenaline had started just around the same time, and it had carried him, brutally and relentlessly, through the next hour or two.

When that adrenaline rush had finally abated, there was still a lasting feeling.  Not anxiety.  Not the kind of quickened pulse that would typically drive him to a self-preservation instinct.

Why is he inclined, even now, to smile when there is no one around?

He leans back in his chair and studies his reflection in his bedroom mirror.  There’s some dried sweat above his brows.  Yes, it’s definitely time for a shower soon.

There’s also some kind of quality that he finds difficult to classify.  Something that could be described as a “glow”?  He is unable to come up with a hypothesis for what is causing this phenomenon.

His eyes linger for a moment and then his gaze drifts toward the window.

I wonder if I’ll see Taichi-san again?  He pauses.  B-before summer camp, I mean?

Summer camp has become an event to look forward to, he concludes.  How many days left?  Not days of anxiety and dread, this time, but maybe…No, definitely…Koushiro can hardly wait!

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Twelve: Lofty

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Twelve: Lofty

Notes: Welcome to the community, Kokox10! I loved reading your comments. It's always to have a new face around here to interact with. I hope that every single one of you had a good week and that you're staying safe. And thank you for continuing to read the story!

(-~-)

The Sparda Express pulled into the station at half past eight am, the cool waters of the bay area glimmering like a mirage in an arid desert. The sands were practically untouched, evening wind shaping them into smooth, wavy rows that perfectly accented the dark surf at the water's edge. It seemed as though the residents of the sleepy beachside town had yet to venture out of their homes, and those that had were at work or school. As an added bonus, their hotel was just across from the boardwalk that bordered the white sands of the seafront, providing them easy access to the shops and their earthly possessions. This was advantageous to the members of the Devil May Cry agency, as it meant that they would attract even less attention than they normally did back home.

Accommodations had been arranged ahead of time by Morrison to help avoid any complications. Things were never simple when you were dealing with such a large group of people. Much to the shock and horror of basically everyone involved, there were enough beds to go around, but only three rooms, meaning that someone would be staying with the children. Nero volunteered almost instantly, all to aware of the fact that Kyire would do so if someone else didn't. That was just who she was as a person. But he hadn't talked her into coming just so she could spend all of her time worrying over the boys. And besides, he had been looking for another opportunity to spend some quality time with the children. It all worked out in the end for the five of them.

Who it didn't work out for was V.

In a decision that surprised literally no one, Dante and Vergil ended up sharing a room. But unlike Lady, Trish, and Nico, who were sharing the remaining room, and Patty, who had booked her own private room that she decided to share with Kyrie at the last minute just because she'd come to enjoy her company on the train ride over, V ended up with two less than ideal choices. He could either stay with Nero… or he could stay with his father and uncle, a choice that carried the added risk of being awoken in the middle of the night by a charged sword fight if they got into a disagreement.

Considering the fact that the accommodations had been taken care of by a third party, no one aside from Patty had considered who they might end up sharing a room with, least of all V. He'd simply agreed to some because he'd never been to the beach before, and he was curious to see what it was like. But, in the end, he decided to go against his sense of self preservation and stay in the room with Dante and Vergil, a choice that seemed to take both twins off guard. They were only sleeping in the same room. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

Yes.

Yes it could.

After taking their bags to their respective rooms and grabbing the necessities that they would need for the foreseeable future, they split into groups to check out different parts of the beach. Nero and Nico headed to the beach, noting that containing the excitement of the children was difficult. It was best to simply go ahead and let them start exploring the water's edge and enjoying the summer sun. Lady, Trish, and Patty absolutely insisted that Kyrie come with them to a local clothing boutique they'd seen on the way into town, noting that she needed something "cute to wear to the beach." The young woman reluctantly agreed, more than likely afraid of what the two devil hunters would try to get her to try on.

But Dante and Vergil were still at the hotel, roaming the lobby. Despite the fact that he had agreed to come to the beach, V had told everyone else to go ahead. Apparently he was still trying to talk himself into leaving the hotel room and actually going to the beach. They had no idea what the conflict could be, but Vergil had opted to stay behind and wait for him, unbeknownst to his oldest son. This was partially due to their agreement to talk on the train, and to help Vergil avoid the concept of actually going to the beach yet. Vergil had spent enough time near the water for his tastes. And as such, Dante had chosen to stay and wait with him. He has obvious motives for doing so, but that went without saying.

"So… what do you think is keeping him," Dante said as he flipped through the magazine that he'd found on the table in front of him. He was reclined in a comfortable lobby chair while Vergil chose to lean against the wall by the window. V was still upstairs in their hotel room, doing who knew what. Everyone else had left a few minutes ago.

Vergil folded his arms, looking out of the corner of his eye at the window. Blue as far as the eye could see. No sand from this angle. Just light water that slowly melded into deeper water and what seemed to be a large rock or small island in the distance; nothing but a speck on the horizon from this distance. He didn't find that as tranquil and enticing as he imagined that most people would.

"It was your decision to stay behind, Dante. No one is forcing you to be here," Vergil said flatly, hoping to halt any plans his younger twin might have of asking that question repeatedly in order to drive him slowly insane," He can't be expected to rush, especially when he has no idea that anyone is waiting for him. He has no compelling reason to hurry."

Dante leaned back slightly and craned his neck to the side, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. He wasn't accustomed to Vergil being this patent. While his twin was admittedly very good at planning and enacting long, drawn out plans, he wasn't normally so good at sitting (or standing) and waiting for long periods of time. Or any period of time, for that matter. Being left along to wander through his subconscious was a bad course of action, more often than not. And the longer the eldest Son of Sparda was forced to wait, the thinner his tolerance grew. Patience was not normally a quality his twin brother possessed as an extension of that fact. But here he was, resisting the urge to go knock on the door and tell V that they were waiting for him. He really was trying, wasn't he?

"Yea, but he might have decided to take a nap or something for all we know," Dante said, turning a page in the periodical he was browsing through. He hadn't found anything super interesting yet. No news of anything demonic in the area. Maybe the residents of the town didn't believe in that sort of thing? "Don't you think you should go check on him or something?"

Vergil shrugged slightly, seemingly indifferent to the suggestion. At the end of the day, he was in no hurry to go anywhere. They would be here for a few days. He felt no reason to rush. He really didn't have anything planned once they reached the waterfront. "When last I checked, your legs were perfectly functional. Why not go ask him yourself?"

Dante shook his head slightly and returned to his magazine. He didn't really have a comeback to that statement. Yea, he was physically capable of doing that. He just didn't feel like doing that at the moment. As far as he was concerned, Vergil had a point on this one. But he was willing to admit that it was still possible that he could be correct, too. He would wait for a few more minutes before heading upstairs to double check what was causing the delay.

A passive silence fell over them both. For once, the silence between them wasn't a result of hostility or bitter feelings, so there was one silver lining to this situation. But either way, Dante hoped that V would come down soon and spare them from the lack of conversation. It was too early in the trip of things to be so uncomfortable. They hadn't even gotten sand where it didn't belong yet!

Off in the distance, the faint sound of a door closing could be heard. Dante subconsciously hoped that his wish had come true while Vergil shot a slow but brief glance in the general direction of the stairs. Neither of them had any idea how many rooms were in this building, especially considering the fact that there were two wings with rooms in them, but that didn't change the fact that it could possibly be V. The youngest Son of Sparda's hopes were dashed a second later as a young woman walked past them, heading out of the building. She proceeded to the checkout counter, paid some sort of fee, and then vacated the building, towing her bags behind her.

The youngest of the two twins flipped through his magazine, checking to see if anything else caught his eye before admitting defeat and casually flinging it across the table. It landed in the center of the table with a soft smack and then folded open again, the wear and overuse it had suffered through clearly leaving a permanent crease in one portion of the thin booklet. Dante almost pitied it in a way. Sometimes he felt like that magazine.

A chance glance in Vergil's general direction revealed that he had slowly migrated closer to the bottom of the steps, rounding the corner that he had been around. Part of him wondered what had motivated him to do so, but he was actually more curious as to why a hotel with five stories didn't have an elevator in it. Yes, it was older and seemed to be retrofitted with newer amenities, but that didn't make it any less of a hassle. Their room was on the third floor. At least it had a bathroom.

Faint footsteps could be heard from throughout the entire building as different patrons went about their business, going to and from their rooms. The soft classical music that played throughout the building lended a relaxing air to the place that you'd expect considering the fact that it was on a waterfront. No one wanted to come here and not relax. That would be stupid. As this thought passed through Dante's mind, another visitor came down the steps, shooting a curious look over their shoulder as they reached the bottom of the steps. Upon seeing the twins, the young man furrowed his brow for a moment before heading towards the buffet area. A knowing look crossed Vergil's face.

"You may get your wish sooner rather than later, brother." Vergil said calmly as he watched the man leave, paying little attention to his twin's reaction. 

Dante nodded. "Yea, seems like he was suffering from a serious case of deja vu." He stretched out, making himself comfortable," Or maybe he saw our hair color and just thinks we're old or something. He wouldn't really be wrong."

The comment seemed to incense Vergil, causing him almost serene demeanor to shatter like porcelain in an earthquake. Dante could practically feel him get pissed off at the statement. "I'm not old, Dante. You'd do well to remember that."

Upon hearing his brother's statement, Dante laughed, garnering him an almost ticked off look from his older twin. "Vergil, were twins. If I'm old, you're old. And I'm pretty sure I'm old," He said, shaking his head at the inevitability of their mortality," You have two grown kids. One of them had three kids of their own. Only old people have adult kids, brothers. I'm sorry to break it to ya, but you're old!"

Vergil looked equal parts furious and horrified at his brother's statement. Dante knew that regardless of what his brother felt, that didn't change things. They both knew they were not as young as they had once been. That was just how life worked. But it occurred to him in that moment that maybe Vergil hadn't considered how much of his life he had lost to his time in the underworld until now. The gravity of having spent half his life down there had probably hit him like a brick shithouse. They'd come here to enjoy a relaxing seaside vacation, and he'd given his older twin an existential crisis instead. 

Eh, he wasn't upset about it, either.

"I'm... were not having this conversation today." Vergil said, clearly flustered. Dante was lucky that Yamato was nowhere to be seen. That being said, he was sure Vergil had stashed the blade somewhere around himself. It seemed to appear from nowhere half of the time anyway. Their father's old sword was just weird like that sometimes.

"Fine by me… but you're still-" Dante started, barely suppressing the shiteating grin that was threatening to spread across his face. It was good to see that he could still get under his older twin's skin this easy.

"Don't you dare!" Vergil said, his voice slightly elevated, but his tone darker than normal. It was extremely alarming and intimidating. Dante was half sure that his twin was about to whip out his trusty katana and cut him a new one. His older twin took a step towards him, more than likely about to say something when there was a loud thump and a yelp. Vergil pivoted and took a few quick steps to the left without looking, just barely stopping in front of the stairs in time.

Without warning, V came rocketing down the steps. The young summoner had more than likely missed a step, and his misplaced footing had sent him headfirst over the top of the stairs. Vergil caught him under the left arm and right side respectively, sliding back slightly as he braced himself carefully, seemingly noting that, due to his height, not holding him up was probably just as bad as simply letting him hit the floor. V gasped for breath slightly as he hit his father's chest first, knocking his head against his shoulder. If V had been heavier and Vergil less coordinated, the sheer force of impact would have probably sent them both tumbling to the floor. Dante had clambered to his feet during the excitement, heading over towards them. What the hell had just happened?

V took a second to steady himself, rubbing his head slightly as his legs buckled. After a moment, he stood up all the way. He seemed startled and slightly dazed, but otherwise unharmed. Dante walked over to the stairs and picked up the shoulder bad that V had dropped. He was willing to bet that it had thrown him off and caused him to go flying down the stairs. At least he was alright.

"You alright there, mister poetry?" Dante asked as he walked over to him, handing him the bag. He considered shaking him slightly to test this, but decided against it once his self preservation instincts kicked in. "What the hell happened?"

The younger white haired part devil shook his head slightly as if doing so would help him part the clouds in his mind. He accepted his bag from Dante with a grateful nod before turning back to Vergil. It was then that he noticed that he was braced against the older devil hunter, his balance not yet fully returned. It seemed that his equilibrium was still slightly off. V took a step back and swayed slightly, his head swimming and pounding like all the blood had just rushed to it. What was wrong with him?

"... Thank you for catching me. I'm fine now." V said softly, his head still swimming. It was like he was caught in an echo chamber. The sensation was nauseating. "And for my bag, Dante. I appreciate it."

Vergil craned his head to the side, giving him a thinly concealed look of what V identified as concern. Or, at least that's what he thought it was. He couldn't be sure, but that was the reaction that made the most sense to him.

"Your a poor liar," Vergil said with a huff, steadying him by grabbing his forearm. He was trying his level best to look calm and composed, but the eldest Son of Sparda was admittedly still playing over how things could have gone if he hadn't caught him." We decided to wait for you. Can you stand?"

The hint of concern in his father's voice and the way that Vergil had offhandedly asked him if he was alright resonated with him, catching him slightly by surprise. Getting used to Vergil treating him like this was going to take a lot of getting used to. He hoped he wouldn't need to. Constantly being in danger didn't agree with his physical composition. 

Where had his demonic blood failed him? 

Why did he suffer from such a distinct lack of… durability?

V took a moment to fix the loose white button down shirt that Kyrie had absolutely insisted he wear on this trip when she had surprised him and Nero with them. Apparently she'd wanted to take pictures of them in matching outfits. Despite the fact that he was still wearing loose pants and Nero was wearing knee length shorts, the prospect of a photo opp still gave him hypertension. But Kyrie had asked so…

"I'll be fine. We should go and meet Nero and the others. I'm sure the children have overthrown him by now." V said as he rubbed his shoulder in mild discomfort. He was relatively sure he'd pulled something when Vergil caught him under the arm. It was a fact of life that his bones despised him and possessed the combined durability of a broken light bulb and the rigidity of a dry spaghetti noodle. His physical composition seemed engineered to fail painfully at times, especially when his limbs simply stopped working like his leg had on the stairs. "And I suppose we should have that talk now, shouldn't we?

Vergil nodded slowly, giving him a careful look as Dante headed towards the front door. He could tell they needed a moment, so giving them some space had been a no brainier. 

"Yes, I believe that might be the right course of action. Come then." Vergil said as he stepped past him. He paused for a moment, turning back towards V," Ah yes… I almost forgot."

With that, he snagged V's bag and turned back towards the door, walking a few steps before stopping. He seemed to be waiting for him. V took the hint and followed after them both, flabbergasted. It seemed that there was some unwritten rule stating that he was not permitted to carry bags while in his father's company. He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet, to be honest.

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Thanks for reading this chapter! I'm happy today I finished it on Monday at 6:20 am! I'm not glad that I'm up this late, per say. I'm just glad that I'll be finished with Friday's chapter come Thursday morning! Being on schedule for once is a nice feeling. Have a safe week and I'll see you again on Friday!

[yamisnuffles]

In The Beginning

The first of what will be a series of one shots set in my Too Much of a Good Thing (they’re both angels) au. Read on Ao3

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There once was an angel who didn’t fall. He didn’t make a million mile freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur. He didn’t even saunter vaguely downward, so much as vaguely… leftward. When the Almighty started to get snippy with his never ending questions, he drifted back to the stars. When it seemed like things were coming to a head and the other angels started to fight, he got right out of the way. He fell back into the vast expanse of space to wait things out.

It wasn’t bad out there. In fact, he enjoyed it for a while. He settled in between a pair of binary stars, his light one with theirs as their light was one with each other. They were good company as far as stars went. Better at the moment, at least, than his fellow angels. Half of them would drag him into a battle he’d rather have no part of and the other half, well, probably the same for different reasons. Not that he couldn’t see why the rebels had started to take issue with the way things were. If he couldn’t understand, he wouldn’t have so many questions.

The problem was, those questions didn’t go away while he hid. If anything, as angels Fell and became demons and as more of God’s newest creation was unveiled, the questions increased. When he finally poked in a bit closer to get a good look at it all, he found there were dark whispers that it was all just another step in the War, that this was all a means to an end in settling the battle between Good and Evil. Salathiel, seraph and star maker, couldn’t imagine that could really be the case… could it? She was a bit inscrutable, sure, but She couldn’t want more of that. But that was another question and he’d seen what happened to angels who questioned Her. Orl, seen as well as one could, tucked neatly into a nebula as he’d been in the final moments of the War.

There was only one way to get answers and that was to find them for himself.

“Right, I’ll just… hop down and check things out. She couldn’t object to that, could She? Just some sightseeing.” Salathiel’s molten gold eyes jumped from star to star, as if expecting someone to appear and object. He swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “Yeah, nothing to it. Just a quick pop into the garden. Nothing so bad about that.”

He waited another moment for the universe to protest. No one said a word. Heaven had bigger things to worry about than one stray seraph, what with humans up and about in Eden. Hell was too busy trying to figure out how to stir up trouble to concern themselves with a single angel who might have been in their ranks if he hadn’t decided, nah, actually, I’ll sit this one out. She was watching because She was always watching but She decided to stay quiet on the matter. It was a new thing She was trying for some ineffable reason.

“No reason to go through official channels, though,” Salathiel said, rolling his shoulders and giving a flap of his six wings. “Lots of paperwork, that, and it would just be trouble for everyone.”

Having at last properly talked himself into the thing, there was no looking back. He flew through the stars and addressed them each by name as he passed. He made a playful loop about the sun that slung him down to Earth. He closed his eyes and revelled in the feel of the atmosphere against his skin. It was so different from the void of space that he’d grown used to. He could feel the air, the infinitesimal pull of water droplets on his feathers as he broke through fluffy white clouds.

He opened his eyes and pulled to a stop far enough away to take in the whole of Eden. He looked at it with eyes sharp enough to pierce the furthest reaches of the universe when he wanted. While he didn’t need to see quite that far, he delighted in what he saw through the thick canopy and in the glimmering water.  He loved his stars more than he loved himself but this was something different. It was lush and living. It had a pulse all its own. Ants marched in lines. Wolves sang out their joy. A giraffe was brought level with the trees by its ungainly neck. A chameleon slipped from the speckled brown of bark to dull grey when it decided to sun itself. And then there were the birds. Oh the birds, they brought a homesick pang to Salathiel’s chest as they darted to and fro on wings of every color. There seemed one for each angel in Heaven above and even for those now down below.

And all that was to say nothing of the garden itself. There was so much green, of so many kinds. There were dark, waxy emeralds, violent bursts of chartreuse, and variegated combinations of every shade in between. Even Salathiel’s prized nebulae seemed lacking in comparison to some corners of this paradise. He had to get in for a closer look. All the better, too, because he’d come for answers and the longer he lingered, the greater the chance that he was dragged back to Heaven before he got them. He found an open patch of dewy grass and dropped down on it like a rock. Instead of being soft and springy, he was surprised to find it was slimy and gross and sort of squidgy between his toes. His nose twitched. It also smelled… evil?

He froze and became aware of a rasping, muffled sound. He picked up his left foot, only somewhat surprised to find a strange face underneath. Salathiel calmly raised one crimson eyebrow.

“What was that?”

“I said get off me you stupid- eep!”

Salathiel shook his head. “What kind of self respecting demon says, ‘eep’?” he drawled.

“I didn’t… you surprised me,” the demon sputtered. They had one arm free of the dark, rich soil and tried to pull themself the rest of the way out to recover some of its remaining dignity but the angel’s other foot still pinned them in place. So they settled for huffing and glowering. “You’re not supposed to be here. There’s only the one angel and he’s off on top of the wall over there.”

Salathiel’s heart jumped. His eyes flicked upward but the heavens were still silent. He looked then to the wall and the angel that indeed held vigil there. That angel wasn’t looking but could turn at any moment, especially if there was a demon shouting about angels who were doing things they ought not. Shit! How had he missed him?

“Yeah, well, you’re not supposed to be here either,” he countered, pretending at a calm he no longer felt.

“Demon, in case you forgot. I’m supposed to do what I’m not supposed to do.”

Salathiel opened his mouth to respond but found no real way to reply to a word jumble like that. So he struck the demon down instead with a decisive crack of ethereal power and sent it back to Hell. He felt a bit bad about that. He didn’t really have anything against the Fallen, that one just had the misfortune of catching him when he was feeling more than a little jumpy. He wasn’t used to feeling jumpy.

He probably should have taken it as a sign. He’d been spotted as an interloper the moment he set foot in Eden. It would be best to cut his losses and head back before someone else saw him. The problem was, there was still so much he wanted to see. Namely, the angel that was supposed to be standing guard. And yes, he knew that was the very last person he should have sought out but he wouldn’t have been there in the first place if he let such quibbles hold him back.

He waved his hand to miracle the unsettled earth back into place so that it looked like the demon had never been there at all. Better, in fact, for the way the grass stood a little taller and greener at the touch of his miracle. He spared it a brief smile before he took wing once more. He flew low at first, letting his fingers graze the treetops, and then caught a thermal draft that carried him up to the top of the wall.

The angel there smiled blandly at him. He blinked a pair of eyes as blue as the newly minted sky, eyes like a nebula the seraph had once made with a color impossible to pin down, and then those same eyes widened.

“Oh! Oh my heavens. I didn’t see- you’re- hello,” the blond angel stammered. He held a hand over his chest as though actually dependent upon the heart beating inside of his corporation. He needed to take a few shallow breaths before he could say more. “I’m so very sorry if I seem out of sorts. I wasn’t expecting anyone…?”

“Salathiel,” the seraph provided with a polite dip of his head.

“Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate,” came the response, complete with a fluttering smile and outstretched hand. Salathiel gladly took the hand and offered a wide smile of his own. “As I was saying, Salathiel, I didn’t think there were any other angels here.”

Salathiel scratched the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, not really here on department business. Between you and me.”

Aziraphale’s smile faltered. “You’re not?”

“Yeah, finished with all my official business. Stars made and all,” Salathiel said, waving his hands vaguely and no longer meeting those shining eyes. “Not really much to do after that. Figured I’d see what all this new creation was about. Wasn’t the only one with that thought, I guess, with that demon lurking about.”

“Demon!” It was then that Salathiel noticed the other angel had a flaming sword which he made a point of brandishing. “I didn’t know there were any demons about. Where is it?”

For all that Aziraphale swung that sword around, it didn’t look much like he wanted to use it. Well, Salathiel could help with that. “Nothing to worry about. I smited it. Smote? Whatever. Gone. Back down Below.”

Aziraphale sighed in relief and immediately shrank from his uneasy fighting stance. “Oh good. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Really. Like I said, not supposed to be here technically speaking. Not here for anything bad,” Salathiel assured. In theory, an angel wasn’t supposed to be able to do anything bad. That’s what demons were for. The problem being, if angels couldn’t do anything bad, there wouldn’t have been demons in the first place. Salathiel wasn’t all too eager to join their ranks, having just… smitten one. Seemed like a bad first impression. “Only wanted a look around, is all.”

Aziraphale’s smile brightened once more. “Well that’s alright, I’m sure, so long as you don’t trouble the humans. They can startle quite a bit if you simply drop in on them, poor dears. It’s why I’ve tried to keep my post up here.”

“Won’t even know I’m there, I promise.” Salathiel’s wings trembled with sudden excitement. He was ready to fly back down into the garden when something else occurred to him. “Anything else I should be aware of? Like I said, don’t want to cause any trouble. Can’t really avoid it, though, if I don’t know what it is.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can.” Aziraphale lifted his sword once more and used it to point to a tree in the center of the garden. “That is the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Word from the top is that its fruit is strictly off limits.”

“Knowledge of-” Salathiel bit off the rest of the statement. He’d been about to ask the sense in that, given that they had only a moment before agreed that you couldn’t avoid doing wrong if you didn’t know what wrong was in the first place. Of course, that would be questioning orders and from the very top at that. Best to keep that one to himself. “Tree bad. Got it.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale said with an accompanying nod. “Now I had better get back to guarding. If one demon tried to sneak in, there’s no saying when another might try the same.” He glanced sidelong at Salathiel. “Not that-” He spun the ring on his pinky finger and then tugged slightly at his sleeve hem. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m shooing you off. It was a pleasure meeting you. We… we haven’t met before, right?”

“Nah. Lot of stars up there. Kept me too busy to mingle.”

Aziraphale’s pink lips widened into a charming circle. “You did say you made the stars, didn’t you. I was still too surprised at you being here for that to really sink in.”

“I mean, not all of ‘em but yeah.”

Salathiel swept his arm wide to rain stardust into Aziraphale’s cloud of white blond curls. This made the other angel’s eyes widen. A smile that lit up his whole face appeared and brought a rosy hue to the apple’s of his cheeks.

“Well, they’re beautiful. Have you seen them from here? No, I suppose you haven’t if you’ve only just arrived. But you should! They’re gorgeous from up there, of course,” he said, pointing to indicate Heaven, “but they’re something else from here. They make me feel so big and so small all at the same time. Which might not sound pleasant but I assure you it is. It’s quite a singular experience, to gaze on them from the vantage point for which they were created.”

The pink in Aziraphale’s cheeks deepened to red. “Listen to me go on, as if you need me telling you what the stars look like. I’m sorry. I’m holding you up now.”

Salathiel found it impossible to respond immediately. The world felt suddenly off kilter. He felt like he did when the heart of a new star formed in his palm, all filled up with the light of what it would become. He was tempted to launch himself back into the heavens to create a star out of that feeling. To name it Aziraphale. Which was ridiculous… wasn’t it? He really shouldn’t have spent so much time alone if it meant he was going to gape like a fool at every new angel.

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh, no problem. I’ll just-” He thumbed back at the garden. One decisive flap of his wings brought him into the air. Before flying down again he blurted out, “I’ll come back tonight? To look at them with you? The stars, that is.”

“That sounds delightful, my dear.”

And with that, Salathiel fell. He tucked his wings in and dropped like a dart through the trees to escape the mortification of the way his face burned. It was only as some bushy tailed something or other went skittering off that he remembered he’d promised not to startle the humans. He had also meant not to draw attention to himself and then he’d gone and chatted up the first angel he’d seen. He shrugged. Not too late to do things right.

Seemed to him the easiest way to go unnoticed was to look like something that belonged. Since there was only meant to be the one angel in Eden, his current form was right out. He supposed he could tuck his wings away but if the humans thought he was one of them that would probably cause more problems. No, something else from the garden would be the best way to go.

He considered the animals he’d seen and the ones he’d known were planned in the latter days of creation. Unicorn could be fun but it was unquestionably flashy and he was hoping to keep a low profile. A bird was an obvious choice and would give him a good vantage point to explore. The only issue being that it was too obvious a choice. He’d done the flying thing. Go big or go home and he wasn’t of any mind to go home at the moment.

The barest hint of movement caught his eyes from a low hanging branch. “Ah, yes. That’ll do,” he murmured before concentrating on changing his form. Scales sprouted in waves and a massive gold and white serpent flopped unceremoniously into the lush undergrowth. “Now thissss isss a change in perssspective.”

He wasn’t truly a snake so much as a snake shaped angel, so the world hadn’t shifted as much as it might have. However, things were about as far from the norm as they could be. He squirmed experimentally and after some trial and error figured out how to move about. He slithered slowly at first, enjoying the feel of the moss under his belly and the shift from cool in the shade to blissful warmth in the dappled sunlight on the forest floor.

He lifted his head to get a better look about. He couldn’t see so much as a patch of blue through all the plants. The garden, which had already looked lush, was now an absolute riot of greenery. His tongue flicked out instinctively and he would have blinked in shock if he still had eyelids to do so. Space was scentless by nature and Heaven was relatively sterile by design, but Eden was almost overwhelming. He dropped his head to continue forward. He had a stargazing appointment that night and there was a lot of ground he wanted to cover before then.

The variation of life in Eden seemed endless. There were new creatures great and small everywhere Salathiel looked and supporting them, limitless types of plants. Salathiel would drift one way to investigate something that had caught his eye only to be pulled in another direction by something else. With so much to see and only one thing to avoid, he could have easily spent a literal eternity there.

Unfortunately, while Salathiel might have understood the delicate balance that was needed to set the stars in the sky, there were some forces that were beyond his control. Namely, in this case, the inextricable pull of curiosity. He hadn’t meant to go toward the tree. In fact, he’d made a concerted effort to stay away from it, but when he saw it looming in the midst of a small clearing, there was nothing he could do to make himself turn away. He lifted his head and stared, all the while knowing he shouldn’t.

“Aren’t you lovely. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Gentle as the voice was, Salathiel could have jumped out of his skin at the sound of it. He’d thought himself the only creature in the area. Which was, when he thought about it, another fact that should have warned him off. Instead he found himself looking at one of the two humans. Eve, if he wasn’t mistaken. She was standing on another edge of the clearing and padded softly across the grass to get a better look at him.

She reached out a hand and ran it smoothly over his head and down his neck while he remained transfixed. “I’ve seen similar but none quite like you. Just who are you?”

“I’m-” It was only as the woman gaped at him that Salathiel realized she probably hadn’t been expecting an answer. Well, too late now. “You can call me... Crawley,” he continued, his voice a low, reassuring hiss.

There, that should cover it. If word got back to anyone Upstairs, they would just think it was a new animal like Eve did. Maybe. Hopefully. For her part, Eve quickly got over the shock of a talking snake. She smiled and stroked his scales once more.

“Are there other animals who can talk, Crawley?” she asked. “There’s only Adam here and while he’s good company, it does get lonely.”

“Jussst me. I think. Don’t know everyone.” He slithered over to the tree, only wishing to get a better vantage point for a discussion. He hung down from a branch that put him at eye level with Eve. “We can talk, if you’d like.”

“I’d enjoy that very much,” she said, joining him under the bough. She ran her hand over one of the ruby red apples and chewed thoughtfully on her lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else here. The animals all stay away. Even Adam keeps back.”

This was where Salathiel should have cautioned Eve off, where he should have said to follow the example of the others. Instead he said, “I don’t understand what’s sssso bad about it. Why can’t you know the difference between good and evil?”

Eve pulled her hand back, apparently only realizing she’d reached up to one of the fruits in question. “God said we weren’t to eat it.”

Salathiel knew he shouldn’t press but if anyone knew the answer, surely it was one of those who had been given the commandment in the first place. “Yesss, but why? Seemssss like a useful thing for you to know.”

Eve scrunched up her face in thought. She looked from what she thought to be a serpent, to the apple she’d just caressed, and then down to her hands. When she looked back up, there was doubt coloring her warm brown eyes. “I’m not sure why.”

“How will you do right if you don’t know what’s wrong?” he pressed. It was no wonder God had made such knowledge something that could be consumed. Salathiel felt hungry for answers. He thought of the angels. Or, rather, of the former angels. The Fallen. Bad, wrong, evil- none of that had existed when they were created. Would they still have done what they did if they knew the difference? They were punished for a crime they couldn’t have truly understood. A crime Salathiel still didn’t quite understand. “What if you did a bad thing, meaning to do good? Or a bad thing not really meaning to do anything? What if you were thrown from paradise and never knew why?”

The first clouds of a coming storm passed over Eve’s brow. She wasn’t looking at the serpent in front of her or the tree and its fruit. She clutched a hand over her breast with a frown. “What if that happened to Adam?” Her jaw set and she reached out to the nearest apple. “You’re right. I should know.”

“Wait! I didn’t-”

But it was too late. Eve bit into the apple and humanity’s fate was sealed, as was the fate of the angel who accidentally brought sin to the world.

[loki-and-cuddles]

Your Loki

Pairing: Loki x reader

Genre: Angst but also fluff

Warnings: Very light mention of a food disorder, some self-doubt

Summary: Loki doesn’t think he deserves you. 

A/N: My very first posted story, I’m very excited but VERY nervous. This was inspired by the songs: Alejate de mi by Camila and Estoy Enamorado by Thalia and Pedro Capo (words in italics are the songs). Also, English is not my first language, so apologies for any mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

-

He was acting different. All week he had been too busy to spend time with you. He no longer invited you to sleep in his room, or spend time in yours. He was kissing you less, hugging you less, and avoiding contact in general. You felt lonely and frustrated, but most of all scared. Had he changed his mind, did he no longer desire you, was a mortal not good enough. Of course not, how could you ever think you’d be good enough for a god, a prince, a king. You hadn’t slept well in the last week and it was beginning to show. The bags under your eyes were now slightly purple, your complexion was pale and no longer had it’s usual flush, and you were constantly zoning out, no longer paying attention to anything going on around you.

At first no one really noticed, you had always been shy and quiet. The first to notice was Nat, you would only smile to her good morning and hellos, and would no longer sit with her and Rogers to listen to their stories. Tony noticed when you stopped making sassy comebacks to his teasing, you were quiet, but had an attitude. It was after Tony noticed that they decided to corner you in the common room, asking what was going on.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Do you need to see a doctor?”

“You know I can afford one”

“You just have to ask”

“Are you doing it again”

“You said you had stopped”

“Did Loki cause you to start again”

“No!” You took a deep breath and lowered your voice. “No, stop. I’m eating just fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?” You were looking at the ground, but looked up when Nat asked. Scanning the room, you felt tiny surrounded by such intense and powerful people. There was one missing. Loki.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You ran out of the room before they could say anything else or stop you.

You wanted to go to Loki’s room. You wanted to talk to him. Figure out what was wrong. But the idea of being told that you weren’t enough to your face, by the person you loved the most was too scary. So you headed to your room, sleeping to avoid your problems, had always worked. Somewhat.

There on your bed you found a single green rose with a note. All your fears were confirmed. If he had to leave a note instead of talking to you, it was bad. And bad meant he didn’t want you anymore. Sitting on the edge of the bed you debated on whether to open it or not. It would be devastating to see that you weren’t enough in Loki’s words. Those words would be burned into your mind for the rest of your life. But could you live without knowing what he had written for you? No, definitely not.

You slid your finger under the flap of the envelope and ripped it open. The note inside has perfect handwriting, not surprising. The ink was black, but had a glimmer to it. Your name looked beautiful at the top of the paper. Your vision blurred with tears in your eyes, you were gonna miss the sound of your name when he said it. His low husky voice that made your knees weak. The way his chest vibrated against you, his breath on your neck. You loved hearing his voice before falling asleep. Sometimes it was the only thing that put you to sleep, calming your racing thoughts before bed.

Blinking away the tears, you forced yourself to look down from your name, and read the rest of the note.

You need to get away from me, do it soon before I lie to you. Your skies turn grey, I now walk under the storm. Escape, leave. I shouldn’t see you any longer. Understand that even though I ask you to leave I don’t want to lose you. The light is no longer enough. You don’t want to walk on pain, barefoot. I know you’re still on time, I’m not who you really think I am. I didn’t fall from heaven. If you still don’t believe me, and wish to take the risk, you’ll see that I only deceive and cause harm and cause tears. Who else do I love? You know well I don’t deserve you, and I wish I could regret it and not tell you this. But an angel watches over you, and gave me the truth, so that I could show you the way out.

Tears were streaming down your face. He hadn’t signed it, it just ended there. Abruptly, much like you and him. How were you supposed to get away from him, if he gave you the reasons to live. Showed you the beauty in life. The many things that were worth living for, sitting right in front of you. He helped you see them. Yes, he has lied, and harmed others. But everyone does. And you were evidence that that’s not the only thing he was capable of.

None of this made sense, There was no way either of you could leave each other. You were stuck here. The tower was your only home. He was stuck here, on house arrest. He was to stay in the tower or go back to the dungeons of Asgard. Oh God-

You ran out of your room without a second thought and sprinted to Loki’s room. Not waiting to knock, you burst in, your breath raged from running. His room was empty. Everything was back to how it was before he moved in. A generic room, like any other in the building, for any other person to occupy. It was too late, he didn’t let you choose. He chose for you, and left. Your breathing started to pick up even more.

“No,” you whispered.

It was then that Loki walked out from the bathroom. He was wearing his leather attire, and his hair was combed back away from his face. He looked gorgeous, strong and regal, despite the tension in his shoulders and bags under his eyes. You let out a deep sigh, he was here, he hadn’t left. Yet.

Loki stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. He was just about to leave, just checking his appearance in the mirror one last time. And here you were, making his decision that much harder. But he wasn’t going to back down, he had to do this for you. You deserve the whole world, no, all nine realms. He couldn’t give you that.

“Y/n” it didn’t sound like you remembered it, his voice. It was cold and distant. Indifferent. It hurt, that one word uttered through his lips, hurt. Making your chest clench. But you had to believe that he was just trying to push you away. Succeed in his deranged plan to save you from him.

You lifted your arm and showed him the note, a few tears still slipping down your face. He had no reaction. Nothing. His eyes dropped to the paper you were holding out before him, and back up to your eyes. His stern face never faltered, not a single emotion slipped through.

“It’s not true”

“What is?” His voice was still indifferent, but there was something else, a little sliver of hope maybe. Or that could just be your imagination, your hope that none of this was actually true. You shook your head and dropped your arm.

“I wrote you something too, a while ago. Before you started avoiding me. Before this,” you motioned to the paper in your hand. More tears began to fall, “can I tell you before you leave?” There it was the tiniest change in his eyes, but it was there. It hurt him, to know you accepted his choice, his words.

“I hadn’t told you because I wanted to memorize it. I wanted to be able to look at you when saying every single word.

I want to drink the kisses from your lips

and in the air draw your name next to mine

To the sweet melody of a guitar

take a walk through passionate feelings

in the subtle embrace of the night

you will know what I feel

I'm in love

and your love makes me special

I'm in love

and it does me good, so good

to be in love with you

To feed only from our memories

and wake up from deep sleep

just to see you.”

As you say the words, tears still falling down your cheeks, you slowly see the mask fall. Little by little you see your Loki. The Loki only you get to see. Loki that enjoys his hair being braided, and watching rom coms with you. Loki that loves cuddles, and secretly enjoys being the small spoon, to be held and loved. Loki that will hush away your tears, and chase away your nightmares. Loki that was hurt over and over again, but finds strength in you, the same way you find strength in him. Loki that is vulnerable and selflessly loves, with every inch of his being.

You stare at his teary eyes, trying to tell him everything you feel, everything you fear. Waiting for an answer physically hurts your chest. You know he loves you, you can see it in his eyes. Your fear is that his fear of hurting you will be bigger than his love. That after all of this, he will still walk around you, out the door and leave.

He takes a step closer, never breaking eye contact. You are no longer aware of anything else but him. Another step. You start to feel dizzy, are you even breathing. Another step. You can feel his warm breath on your face. You glance down at his lips before looking back up. His eyes never left yours. You want to kiss him, you really do. But you're frozen in place. You've lost complete control of your body and all you can do is stand there and wait.

“I love you.” and then he bends down, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a kiss. You gasp into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss was soft but eager, and you melted into him. All your fears and worries erased by his lips. When he pulled away to let you breathe you chased after his lips, your breathing not a priority to you. You hear him chuckle and you open your eyes to see him smiling down at you. His entire face was relaxed again, and his smile showed the genuine happiness and love he felt. Unable to stop yourself, you giggle. It makes you unimaginably happy to see him smile like that. At that moment you know that that's all you need. To be able to wake up to that smile everyday, and that smile to be the last thing you see before drifting off to sleep. He quirks a brow.

“What is so funny to you?” you shake your head.

“I love you too.”

[saturatedolan]

Crush - Grayson Dolan

WARNING: SMUT

Summary: Grayson and Y/N haven’t talked in years. The end of their friendship was the result of high school and Grayson scolded himself for letting her slip past his fingers. Despite the years they spent apart, they had always been on each other’s minds. 

Word count: 8K

A/N: Hello! Here’s my next fic. It’s very loosely based on Crush by Cigarettes After Sex (listen to the song if you haven’t it’s amazing) and also a small scene in this is inspired by a part in Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations because I loved it so much. Hope you guys like this one, i’ve been putting this off for ages and i’ve finally finished it lmao.

“Prick.”

Y/N couldn’t help but let the gentle cuss out her lips as she watched him take over. It wasn’t like her to use such vulgar language, but today was just getting worse; she felt completely and utterly drained. And this, somewhat pissed, look on her face was caused by just one person and it sure as hell wasn’t the jock who just pushed in front of her.

“Heard that,” Grayson let out a small chuckle. He thought that it was kind of cute to hear Y/N talk like that. He’d never really heard so much as a sweet, innocent sentence slip from that plump mouth of hers. But then again, they’d never really seen much of each other since they began to start making new friends, going to different classes – you know, things that are bound to occur in one’s young friendship.

Grayson could so vividly recall the day that they first entered the humid halls of their new high school together. Their hands almost touching as they made their ways through the halls. He was so close to grasping her hand, inching his way to entwine his fingers with hers. He almost had it too, if it weren’t for the bell ringing and the gentle stampede of students pulling them apart.

It was a sort of wake up call for him. He knew how much their friendship would change during their years of high school. But unfortunately for him, it wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Promise we’ll catch up next time,” rang through his ears as he remembered Y/N’s guilty expression which occurred on more than one occasion. He couldn’t even recall the last time that they actually exchanged a word to each other. But he couldn’t blame her. She was completely perfect - his dream girl - and he scolded himself every night for letting her slip through his fingers.

It was only a matter of moments until Grayson was drawn out of his thoughts by a light clearing of the throat. Now, it was Y/N’s turn to reminisce on her childhood crush. As he turned around with that wide smile and those bright eyes, all she could do was gawk at the familiar yet different face in front of her. He towered over her body, casting a shadow on her expression which hid the glimmer in her eyes. ‘Wow’ was all she could think of as she stood before him.

She hadn’t forgotten about Grayson, but she certainly wasn’t expecting him to look as good as he did now. She was aware that he was the team’s starting running back for years now, but she never really had a good look at him until now. She exchanged a few glances with him across the halls, but it was nothing more than a brief look.

His shoulders were far more broad than she remembered. His frame was extremely built and his facial features were more prominent than she last laid eyes on him properly. She couldn’t help but think that he was attractive – who wouldn’t – he was gorgeous and she couldn’t deny it.

She felt as though the bad mood that she had sported throughout the day was slowly diminishing. The memories of their summer bike rides through their neighborhood made her frowning eyes soften, and the thought of their long story-telling sessions made her lips curve upwards ever so slightly. It was nice seeing him again, it bought back a lot of nostalgia. Somehow, his gentle expression calmed her down the like way it used to.

She stared at the water droplet which slowly trickled from his chin, making its way down to his sharp jawline and down his tanned neck. She suddenly didn’t mind him cutting in front at all. After all, she was the very last person. It was only a water fountain, no need to be so harsh on him. He was probably thirsty after practice.

“Sorry Y/N,” he tried to say it as casually as he could, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He just smiled down at her, hearing the smooth melodies from the sun singing a gentle note. The golden reflects in her eyes were visible as he shifted, letting the light beam onto her soft skin. “I was just really thirsty.” He turned coy, her beauty making his throat hitch.

He knew that he needed to go, quick, before the bulge in his pants became more prominent. It wasn’t like him at all to lust over a girl who he had only just looked at, but Y/N was more than just a girl of desire to him. He could remember his childhood self wanting nothing more than to touch her palms with his, have their fingers latch onto one another’s before anything could happen to change it. He even used to want to share a kiss with her, just one chaste graze of their mouths to alleviate his intentions of being more than friends. But now, being more mature, he wanted more.

Grayson had his share of casual sex, but nothing could compare to the pleasure and satisfaction that he could give and receive with Y/N. Maybe one day he could have a chance with his dream girl and keep her from slipping away from his grasp.

And with that carnal yet sweet thought in his mind, he slipped past her and made his way to the locker rooms. His heart was thumping and he became nervous all of a sudden.

Her mouth was slightly agape as she watched Grayson scurry off into the building. Her eyes scanned the empty football field as she replayed his sentence in her head, again and again, stepping over to the silver water fountain and taking a few gulps of the water. The orange tones from the soft sunset lit her face up into a blissful sight as the sudden flood of anger washed over her, recollecting each detail of the heated argument with her boyfriend which she had to endure earlier.

CRUSH

The following day they found themselves in the exact same spot, only this time they were awkwardly waiting for each other to make a move. It was around the same time, the sun beginning to set which awarded them a golden filter. They’d often stay after school, Grayson for football practice and Y/N for extra time at the library.  She silently scolded herself for coming out to the bleachers on this Tuesday afternoon though. It was probably a force of habit as most days she would wait for her boyfriend in that very spot. She knew that there were better, closer, alternatives where she could get her water, but she somewhat hoped to see him again; just to get another glance at  Grayson. She wanted to feel the thing that she felt yesterday. The flip of her stomach when her eyes first made contact with his hazel ones.

Their pupils darted from each other to the fountain and then, they simultaneously opened their mouths, letting out a quiet word. They both cut themselves off with a chuckle. It must have been a peculiar sight for any passer-by. Two teenagers, standing a meter apart, just looking at each other, subtly observing each and every one of their features. Grayson, raised his arm to scratch the back of his neck, of course, this was out of habit, but Y/N took this opportunity to stare at his bulging muscles which made her mouth water just the slightest bit.

The tension was radiating off their bodies to the point that they could practically feel it tickling their skin, sending goosebumps to litter their arms.

“You go first,” She finally mustered up the courage to let a few words slip from her dry mouth.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he let out a bright, genuine smile.

Her eyes were fixed on his neck and the way his jaw moved. It was such a weird action to stare at but she couldn’t avert her eyes to anything else. She was observing the way a vein would pop out of his neck, how his tongue would come out every so often and how the droplets would drip down his chin. There was a sudden ache between her thighs which ravaged her insides. She felt so guilty for thinking such things about someone she hadn’t talked to for so long. But they way his eyes looked up through his lashes, meeting hers, made her thighs press together.

He was smiling now, lifting his head up from the cool water. His lips were wet and glistening, so delicious looking until he licked his lips and wiped his mouth. It was then that he caught the small shift of her bare thighs and her sunken posture, which was the cause of his smile. The fact that she was wearing an extremely short skirt didn’t help his growing boner at all, though.

“All yours,” he tried to keep the small grin on his face before lust completely took over his expression. They were both terrified though, they had no idea what to say to each other. Compliment each other? Just keep staring? It was already awkward enough. It was at times like these that Grayson wished that he could just kiss her. To have her lips pressed up against his to cover the uneasiness of the situation. However, his fantasy came crashing down as she brushed past him to go to the water fountain herself, feeling the coolness run through her tongue and down her hot throat.

Much like Y/N, Grayson couldn’t resist staring at her while she took her sips from the fountain. Like him, her tongue would occasionally slip out, causing his cock to rise without him even realising it. His eyes trailed down from her face down to her bent over body. The white fabric of her skirt rose up slightly, almost giving him the bittersweet view of her wet core. He wanted to touch her so badly that he had to ball his hands into fists to stop himself from grabbing her and fucking her right there on the spot.

What Grayson didn’t know was that Y/N wouldn’t mind that at all. In fact, she wanted it more than he did. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins as she could feel the cool air brushing up her skirt, meeting her drenched pussy. The fact that Grayson could be welcomed with the sight of her gillnetting lips caused her to jolt up, but then she remembered why she didn’t wear underwear. It wasn’t specifically for him to have a glance. But if he saw, then she honestly wouldn’t mind.

And with that, Grayson made a bold move which he contemplated for the past few minutes while gawking at her. It had two possible outcomes; she would either slap him or reciprocate. He honestly had no idea why he did it. Perhaps it was the unfulfilled childhood crush, or the way she looked with her eyes closed; so cute and tempting.

Grayson leaned down to her, slipping his tongue out to touch the cold running water.

Then, that was when he felt the tender touch of her lips against his tongue.

It was a shock to her, feeling the warmth of his touch on her, and it caused her eyes to open. She was faced with his heavy hazel eyes. The golden shimmer in them made him look so mesmerising, while the oranges and reds of the sky behind him made the scene so enthralling. The abrupt action made her melt into his mouth, the sweetness of his taste engulfed her senses and caused a wave of pleasure to course through her spine.

Grayson closed his eyes, tracing his tongue along her soft lips until she opened her mouth, accepting all of him. Their lips latched onto each other so delicately, sharing one kiss which completely and utterly consumed their minds. All it took was the feeling of his fingertips grazing her cheek to make her pull away. In that moment she shared with Grayson, she had completely forgotten about her boyfriend. It was like his lips freed her from all her worries. Yet, unfortunately, reality had to set in for her when her fantasy brushed her skin.

“Oh my God, I- I'm so sorry-” Honestly, Grayson felt guilty. He shouldn’t have acted so selfishly. The fact that she had a boyfriend didn’t even cross his mind. He felt embarrassed, his cheeks began to redden and he ran off just as she opened her mouth to say something.

She was stunned. Not by his actions, but how this man could completely rid her memories of Max in those moments of their lips touching. It was something that she wanted again, and she felt so guilty for enjoying the mere few seconds of it.

CRUSH

The music was blaring and Y/N didn’t know how much longer she could last. The musty smell of the sweaty bodies made her want to leave straight away, but somehow, she was still here. Perhaps it was just because she was looking for some fun, a cathartic release to free her from the stresses of the previous week. It was like her argument with max had completely slipped her mind throughout the few days. Maybe it’s because her mind was occupied by someone else. But right now, the deepness of her melancholy was so intense in her heart that it fuelled her body to keep squeezing past the sea of bodies, making her way to the basement.

She was the one that had wanted to resolve things actually, but she knew that this wasn’t the reason why she was so down. She told him that she needed space, which was true, yet she couldn’t help but think how Grayson was the main reason. It wasn’t as if their relationship was difficult recently, because it was, but the way Grayson made her feel in the few seconds he kissed her sent shocks of electricity down her spine. She felt more in that one kiss with Grayson than she had felt with Max.

She saw him just a few minutes ago, with his friends and having fun. Y/N was almost certain that other girls would try to flirt with him tonight - knowing that the fact that she wasn’t there with him was practically the same as breaking up to others. She couldn’t care less though, her relationship had been so bland recently.

Grayson was confused as to why he was here too. Parties had never really been his scene, yet he stayed because it was his house and his car was at the shop. Ethan would throw a party occasionally, but Grayson would always leave before any guests started arriving.

He just stayed there and huffed, looking all desolate. But in fact, all he could think about was Y/N.

He was sat on the couch downstairs, taking hits from the shared blunt that he had rolled himself. It was kind of a pain, sharing his own weed with people that he barely spoke to in school, but that was just how it went with parties. It wasn’t like Grayson always smoked, he did it on occasion if he was really stressed or needed to release his mind for a little while. People at parties like these always asked him to roll through, his fingers were just so ‘skilled’, they would say.

He let out a sigh, almost pushing himself up to leave until he spotted a pair of legs which made their way down the stairs. Y/N had just come in time, a gentle smile coming from his mouth as he watched her delicately place her footsteps closer to his figure.

But his smile was replaced by a small frown as he watched her plop herself down next to him, letting out a big sigh from her lips. It was like she had barely noticed him, but she did.

“You okay.” He was genuinely concerned for her. Seeing her like this broke his heart a little and he was afraid to admit it.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You look a little-”

“Yep, fine Grayson.” Her voice snapped and at that point, he knew that he should stop.

Now she felt mad. Not at him, but herself. Her emotions were so intense and all over the place. She was still thinking about her relationship with Max, contemplating whether or not she should just end it with him altogether.

He should have been embarrassed to talk to her after what happened a couple days ago, yet his mind was a little hazy. Grayson was passed the blunt and took a puff. He wasn’t sure if he should offer it to her too, but she took it out of his hands before he could turn to her. She was s desperate to find something that could make her feel anything other than miserable.

He watched her, a little amused, against the changing colours of the lights above them. The music was far less harsh than it was upstairs. They had their own music down here to set the tone. The soft sound of Kid Cudi played within the ambiance of the misty room. It was a whole different mood down here, far more relaxed.

Her lips let out the smoke slowly, catching the attention of Grayson.

“I didn’t know you smoked,”

“I usually don’t, only on special occasions.” This caused Grayson’s eyebrows to raise. Who knew that she would be the one to try stuff like this.

“Yeah? What’s the occasion?” His voice was low, raspy almost.

“Celebrating my freedom I guess? I think I’m going to end it with my boyfriend.” She had no expression on her face as the words slipped from her tongue. Grayson was the opposite, his eyes grew wide and his posture was stiff.

“Oh- you okay?”

Y/N turned to him, eyes now fixed on his. His face, eyes specifically, always used to calm her down when they were younger. And now that they were older, she could see the slight tinge of lust that was spread across his iris’.But she tried to ignore it.

For the next few hours, they talked and talked. From their deepest insecurities to she littlest things like their favourite colours. His was green and hers was yellow. It was like they’ve never really disconnected from each other, like they were never strangers for the past few years.

They didn’t know how their conversation turned into some sort of confession game, but somehow, it did.

“Nope, not even one.” Her smile was wide as she let out a small laugh.

“Seriously?”

Honestly, they’d never been able to disclose to someone so quickly. This topic was very private, yet there they were, rambling about their sex lives and the orgasms they’ve shared with their previous partner. Perhaps it was the drugs, but there was a thick sexual tension between them.

Grayson let out a heavy cloud of smoke and passed the disappearing blunt to Y/N. He tried hard not to get turned on by her, but the sight of her lips wrapping around the blunt and the way she let out the smoke out – slightly hollowing her cheeks – made his cock rise. It seemed as though each in passing moment he would discover something else that he admired from her. Right now, it was the way her eyes glimmered against the lights, how they radiated delight from the simplest action of opening her eyes. He felt loopy at this point, completely entranced by her, while the subtle lyrics of Crush by Cigarettes After Sex made her body gently sway to the rhythm.

He could hardly make out the other bodies amongst the growing mist of the room. It was nice though, the changing colours of the lights softened from purples to reds and eventually made its way round the rainbow. And within the haze, he didn’t realise that her eyes were on him. Set on the way he would repeatedly clench his jaw and how his eyebrows would furrow when he did so. He was completely

beautiful and she let out a sigh. The atmosphere accumulated bliss in her stomach, making its way in between her thighs which caused her to shift, catching his attention.

“Mmm, I love this song so much.” She said as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back in bliss. This was so relaxing for her. The sativa made her head rush with all kinds of thoughts and she felt a sudden burst of energy which she adored.

“I wanna fuck your love slow,” soft whispers escaped her mouth as she sang, “catch my heart go swim.” She was grinning up at the ceiling, amused by the sense of paradise she felt in this basement. Then, she turned to him. “Feel your lips crush-”

She was met with the predatory eyes of Grayson. His eyes were almost black and his mouth was slightly agape, accentuating the plumpness of his lips. She didn’t realise how much the lyrics affected him so much. He was familiar with the song yet the lyrics that she uttered made his whole body shiver. Those words coming from her lips caused his mind to conjure things that would either make her shiver with delight or push him away.

But, realising that he would always became bold in her presence, and he accepted that. With his eyes roaming her lips, he leaned forward to her soft aura. When he was only a mere centimeter from her lips, he stopped and let his hot breath mingle with hers. They were so close that their skin tingled at the anticipation of each other’s touch.

“Can’t wait to feel your love inside me now,” Y/N sang to the song, making eye contact with him. And that was when he knew that they were more than song lyrics to her. It was an invitation, a request for him to touch her. It made his throat hitch, the sight of her peering up at him, but nonetheless, he was content to see her like this.

And so, he closed the gap between them and touched her lips with his. It was soft and tender, their mouths opened to latch onto each other. They made it slow and sensual, their tongues not yet slipping out. Their bodies were filled with shocks laced with an eclectic urgency, it was as though their bodies were waiting for something like this – a deep connection which threaded them together for years.

“You want to go upstairs?” She proposed with wide eyes.

“Uh-”

“Just for some more privacy… I don’t really want any of Max’s friends catching me with someone right now.” She desired him so badly, to have him inside her slowly, giving her the orgasm that Max could never deliver. But, she knew that it would be too abrupt, so she kept her intentions purely for exchanging conversation.

Grayson lead her to his bedroom, closing the door lightly and turning to see her as beautiful as ever. The warm light of his bedside lamp illuminated her soft looking skin. She was sat on his bed, eyes looking so adorable looking up at him like that.

It took them a moment to start their conversation. It was about their plans for the summer. They learned that they wouldn’t really be doing much, how they were just thinking of staying home and relaxing. They talked and talked, their backs against the headboard and their legs were so close to touching. The blunt had given them a high but now, they became tired. And as their discussions became nothing but soft utterances slipping from their mouths, their eyes began to flutter shut, their heads began to droop down and lean against each others.

It was only until the bedroom door barged open, revealing a stranger's surprised expression. Both Grayson and Y/N jumped up, but their bodies softened until the unfamiliar face mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ before shutting the door again.

“I should go-”

“Wait-” Grayson sounded a little too desperate with his words. He tried to conjure something up in his mind, an excuse for her to stay a little longer, but with a big sigh, he stared at her with defeat. “Uh, nevermind. Make sure you’re safe okay?”

“Sure.”

He was fuming, completely and utterly frustrated with himself. He knew that the moment that she stepped out that door, she’d completely forget about him and the few hours they spent with each other. The lack of time didn’t diminish the shared thoughts and the feelings of increased heart rate that they shared though. All he could think about was her. And he knew that he would be the last thing on her mind when she left.

But, the thoughts that he had about her were wrong. He was all she could think about. How he would stare at her with those kind eyes. They were glistening but she could see the slight cloudiness in his eyes, which she knew was from lust.

It was in her eyes too. The way that she had to push against the crowded rooms and heavy bodies somehow heightened her lust for her loveliest friend. Then her mind lingered on the feeling of his lips on hers; how he just...did it. So, without hesitation, she turned around and walked across the house and back to his bedroom door. But first, she walked down to the basement and took a freshly rolled blunt.

Her eyes widened at his naked chest in front of him, inches away from her face. With her mouth agape, she dared herself to tilt her head up to meet his dark gaze.

“You know, I never realised how much I missed you Gray.” She could hear his breath in the air.

“Yeah?”

It surprised him when she held her hand out, a blunt placed in her small palm. She was smirking now, knowing damn well that he couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend even more time with her. It was so clear in her mind now. She wasn’t cocky but she knew that he needed her as much as she needed him.

Her stomach lurched as she observed his half-naked body lighting the blunt and placing it in his lips. Oh, how his lips would just wrap around it so perfectly. Maybe it was the overwhelming amount of lust, but she could just imagine his lips wrapped around her clit like that, so secure. And when his cheeks hollowed - oh wow - he got more appealing after each passing moment. She saw how his eyes would track her every move, every single thing.

She sat on the bed once again, on the same position as before, with her back against the backboard and her legs stretched out in front of her. And with that, Grayson followed her to the bed but sat in front of her as he reached over to pass her the sativa.

He watched her use her plump lips. So tender.

That was when she crawled to him, smiling and all, to blow out the smoke right in his face.

“Remember that one time when we would pretend to smoke with those candy sticks and your mom caught us.” She giggled, inching closer to his face.

“Yeah”, chucking, “but look at us now.” He didn’t want to show it, but the fact that she could remember their old times made his heart skip a beat.

At first glance, she hadn’t realised the small row of cameras that were nestled between the abundance of gold trophies. There were Polaroids and film cameras that were the type you see in old movies. She could remember their talks about how he wanted to become a photographer, how he asked her to be a part of a shoot. And she could remember the disappointment in his face when she would rain check every time single time. So without thinking, she reached up for the shelf above his head and took the camera down.

What Y/N didn’t realise was that Grayson could see the sliver of flesh from her rising shirt. Ever so slightly, he could see the red string of her underwear placed on her hips. That was when the sudden rush to his cock began to quicken as it stirred and stirred in his pants.

It was an uneasy push of lust for both of them when Y/N realised what exactly she had done. It added to their desire for each other which fueled them to keep on going, whatever this was. She couldn’t help but think about what was on his mind as she faced him with a Polaroid camera in her hand, observing his pink cheeks and tinted lips.

“You still do photography, Gray?”

“I haven’t taken a picture in months. Girls really don’t take jocks seriously when I ask if I could do a photo shoot with them.”

Y/N frowned and tilted her head to the side. How could anyone want to reject him? He’d seemed like the perfect guy for pretty girls.

“Here”, she handed him the camera. “Take a few of me. I’ll take you seriously.” A giggle flew out of her heavenly mouth still trying to get over the fact that she just flashed her lace thong. But within the misty fog in her mind, she had only been thinking about his bulge. How his jeans would wrap it up so tight as he stood towering over the bed. It was desperation that ran through her blood and she didn’t know if it was for his cock or his lips.

The flash of the camera made her sight go loopy for a second but his grin was almost brighter. He stared down at the developed photo of her messy hair and pleading eyes. It was so erotic yet so innocent and it made his spine tingle.

The sativa in her system almost made things seem like they were in slow motion. She felt like a ghost with how light her felt whenever she moved and it made this whole thing more enjoyable.

Flashes of light and film encouraged Y/N to keep going. His tender voice would direct her flow but he loved how her movements were so organic as she faced the camera, lying down on the bed beneath him. All she could do was watch him as put his eye to the camera, admiring how his face would scrunch up when he did so.

He could see her through the lens, finger ready to press the button until she bought her hands down to the hem of her shirt. Another flash went by and his jaw was open from the sight in front of him. Her red lace looked perfect on her skin and her breasts were the perfect shapes.

“Y/N-”

“Keep going Gray.”

He obeyed and shot her angelic body with his Polaroid. She found him gulping when she would crawl over to him, eyes glossy and lips tilted upwards.

And just like the glorious day where they felt each other's lips for the first time, Grayson felt a sudden jolt of courage. So, with this new found confidence he leaned into her, so much closer than before. No, he didn’t kiss her, but he took his hand and held her face in his palm, using his thumb to trace over her soft lips.  

“Pretty.” He couldn’t help but let out the word of endearment slip from his tongue as he observed her, eyes fixated on her lips.

“You think my lips are pretty?” She laughed softly but she stared at him, eyes hazy and heart racing.

“I think all of you is pretty.”

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to have a sudden flush run through her body. She had never caught feelings for a man so quickly. But maybe, she’d always known. Maybe it was always Grayson that she thought about during those long nights with Max. It was Grayson that was always there, at the back of her mind when she’d touch herself right after she left those unsatisfying nights with Max.

The next thing they knew, their lips collided once again, feeling the tenderness of each other’s movements against their own. His fingertips met her cheek as they both inched closer to each other until she was on top of him, sitting up against the headboard.

He couldn’t believe this, the connection of their lips and the way her mouth opened to let out soft moans; it was heavenly to him - she was heavenly - but before he knew it their bare chests were rubbing up against each other and his hands were holding down her waist. It was as if he was so entranced by her that he didn’t realise that their clothes were off, which left them in just their underwear.

He could feel her small hands trace along the crevices of his back, their lips still one with each other. She began to trail her fingernails against his skin as soon as she felt his tongue dive deeper into her mouth. And that’s when he began to whimper, so desperate for her touch - desperate to feel her around his aching cock.

“Mmm, Gray.” He was sucking on her neck now, breathing in her sweet scent of peach and honey.

She thought about it. Maybe her boyfriend was downstairs probably looking for her. Maybe he wasn’t, but the taste of his sweet lips caught her in some kind of spiral. At that moment she knew that she was always his; despite the years of silence shared between them and the innocent glances across the halls, they both knew that they’d never really been separated fully.

Y/N’s soft hands trailed over his hair, pulling on them as she adjusted herself on his lap, straddling him, and began to pull his jeans down.

“I don’t think I’ve ever stopped thinking about you, Gray.” It was unexpected, but she needed to get this off her chest. Perhaps it was the drugs but she knew that it was true.

“You’re my girl. You always were.” And now it was Grayson’s turn to free his tongue. He didn’t really know where it came from, maybe it was the sativa too, but he just wanted to call her his.

And with that, she began to grind her wetness on his thigh. He could feel the pool of lust dripping from her underwear and it was so hard to control himself. To keep himself from lifting her up and fuck her against the wall.

Little whimpers trailed from her mouth and her eyebrows furrowed at the pleasure of his thick thigh. One of his hands was rested on her hip, so close to her thong, and the other was caressing her lips. The pad of his thumb glided over her lips as she opened her mouth to let out louder moans.

“Say it.”

He saw her eyes darken but her expression turned into a frown.

“Tell me that I was always yours. But if you do I promise you that I’ll make you cum as much as I can.” His hot, wet mouth trailed over her neck, “Fuck you however you want, YN.”

She just looked at him in awe. So struck by his words and the way his eyes were glossed over with a darker tint. He was using his index and middle finger to trail the skin of her mouth. Suddenly, he felt the warm wetness of her mouth on his skin and his eyes grew wide. She was sucking and licking as she moaned, feeling her pussy drip against his thigh.

Her head tilted back as she pressed herself harder onto him, feeling the folds of her pussy gliding over his tattoos.

He could feel the stickiness on his skin and her little squeal, knowing that she’d just came. He felt how her thighs would squeeze him and it made him growl into her neck.

She was so overcome with pleasure. She’d never felt anything like it. She had never once came with Max yet Grayson made her gush just buy the touch of his thigh.

“I’m yours Grayson,” her breath was erratic, “I was always yours.”

“Yeah?”

He took her mouth in his. Their tongues were so needy for each other as the kiss deepened.

Y/N used her hands to trail over his hardened cock, feeling the length of his desire. It sprang up when she pulled down his Calvins; it made her mouth water and she wanted to lick it so badly. The tip was pink and so ready to be sucked. The veins and the way it was so hard made her mouth water. But as she leaned down, he took her chin to bring it up to his face.

“I want to feel you cum on my dick like you just did on my thigh.”

And so he lined himself up with her entrance, wetness trickling down her pussy onto the tip.

The first stroke caused them both to growl in unison. The flood of his thickness in her tight cunt made her eyes roll back and her mind to become even more hazy. She began her slow movements, up and down the length of his girth. She could feel the ridges of his veins and the sight of his closed eyes and open mouth caused her to fasten her pace slightly.

Y/N nuzzled her head into his warm neck, letting out whimpers as she gripped her thighs lightly in his hands, guiding her hips so he could feel all of her warmth. So tight.

Their breaths mingled as he took one hand to grasp her cheeks and bring her face to his. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were pleading. As he took in her mouth, he could feel her moans trying to escape his lips which sent vibrations down all the way to his cock.

As her pace increased, and their moans got louder. She could feel her pussy get fucked so well and she was about to burst right onto his cock. His thighs were slapping and a generous coat of her wetness covered them already.

So deep. His length was stretching her so well, the feeling almost painful but she loved it. The way he would let out a small groan with each mouthwatering thrust made her body hot, sweat dripping from her head already.

She felt like she shattered. Once her orgasm washed over her, she couldn’t feel anything apart from the intense gush coming from her pussy. She could feel the rush in her stomach, the sweet stir of her insides as she flowed onto him.

Grayson wanted nothing more than this. To feel her hot pussy cum right on him.

“Yeah? You cumming on me Y/N? How good does that feel? Tell me how much you love this.”

Her legs were shaking yet he still lifted her up and down onto his cock, wanting to feel every spasm and clench of her delicious pussy. He could feel her convulse onto him as she let out loud squeals.

“I- fuck- feels so good, Gray.” Oh, how her tremulous voice was like music to his ears! He wished that he could just listen to her try to create full sentences with that shakiness in her voice.

He kept her still for the next few seconds though, not knowing how much she could take but wanting to find out exactly what could have her begging for him to stop. He wasn’t kidding about his desire to make her cum and he knew that she knew that.

As she began to calm down, she went to lift herself off his cock, he kept his hands on her thighs to keep himself inside her. She opened her mouth to protest but he beat her to it.

“I want you to touch yourself, Y/N, right here on my cock.”

She was about to protest, knowing she’d make a mess of herself, but she didn’t. Her fingers trailed down to her core and started to rub her core.

He could just imagine having her pink little clit in his mouth. He wanted to taste her so desperately but her needy little whines made his dick twitch inside her.

For Y/N it was so hard trying to stop herself from pacing up and down. But the fact that he was already so deep inside her whilst her clit was being stimulated made her toes curl. Grayson put his hot mouth onto her tits and sucked tenderly on her nipples, tracing the nub with his wet tongue while he used his hand to cup the other.

She almost heaved at the tingles she felt. Her head tilted back and her fingers became weak at his touch. She began to slow down her actions and he could tell. So without hesitation, he shoved her hand away from her entrance and looked her in the eyes.

She opened her mouth for him once again, letting his fingers slip in while she sucked lightly, using her tongue to swirl around the length of them. Then he lowered his arm and used his digits, covered in her wetness, and spread the pads of his fingers along her slit. He went from her entrance - which still had his cock inside her - to her swollen clit.

He could tell she was enjoying every moment of it; the raw flesh of his cock deliciously deep inside her and the feeling of his fingers rubbing up her sensitive pussy. He moaned at the sight of her. And he could feel the tremble of her thighs on his skin. As he began to rub faster he could feel her clenching around his cock, feeling the overwhelming amount of pleasure that was disposed on her pussy.

Grayson found it hard to control himself. To keep himself from turning her over and pounding her into the mattress, but he knew she was close and how he would soon get to feel her release onto his cock.

“That’s right,” he whispered in her ear as her whimpers resonated throughout the room while he pinched her clit and applied more pressure. “Fucking cum around my cock again, Y/N, I know you can do it, baby.”

That was when she lost it. The beautiful convulsions of her pussy against his cock almost made him cum too, but not yet. He could feel the stream of her cum covering his dick so delightfully. She buried her head inside her neck and bit down on his shoulders, tasking the thin layer of sweat that sit on top of his skin. She had so much that she wanted to take him out, but he slammed her hips down onto him, wanting to feel every last clench of her quivering pussy.

“Mmm, so beautiful.” He let her slip off his cock and ran his hands all over her body. From the valley of her breasts to her creamy thighs.

When he flipped her over, she couldn’t help but let out a little squeal. The grin on her face caused his eyes to deepen in colour because he’d never seen anything quite as beautiful as Y/N, especially when she smiled. He kissed her one last time then kissed a trail from her neck to her breasts, wishing that he could just spend hours cupping and licking on her perfect tits. But with that, he pecked down her stomach, stopping at her hip to lick down to the top of her thigh.

Y/N just couldn’t keep still. She was so sensitive from her last orgasms but Grayson loved the sight of her trembling legs. He spread her thighs wide apart, and put his face so close to her core, fanning his hot breath on her skin.

“Such a pretty pussy, Y/N, so beautiful.” It looked untouched, so flawless and it was just for him. He was so desperate to feel her cum on his mouth, but he didn’t know where to start. Lick her entrance? Fuck her with his tongue? He wanted everything to be perfect for her.

And so he began with sucking on her swollen clit, knowing the sensitivity would make her writhe and arch her back. Her mouth opened and let out echoing moans. She wanted to shut her legs shut but Grayson was gripping them, even spreading them wider.

His cock was begging to be wrapped up in her pussy again, but he was far too focused on making Y/N feel as much pleasure as possible. He began to use his tongue to glide through her folds, breathing and leaving his lingering breath on her wetness. Grayson loved the feeling of her against his tongue, her sweet taste with her little moans drove him insane.

He was practically making out with her pussy, using his lips to suck lightly and his tongue to swirl around her clit. She could feel her orgasm inching closer again, hearing him moan and growl against sending vibrations to her stomach - where she could feel the pleasure building and waiting for it to crumble.

Y/N could hear the gentle smacking noises coming from his lips and she couldn’t believe the amount of pleasure that she received. Even though he was only sucking and licking the surface, she could still feel him inside her because she knew for a fact that he stretched her out so well.

Grayson’s arms went to grab under her thighs, bringing her pussy closer to his face. He could also feel her thighs a lot more and he knew that she was close once again.

She let out a string of cuss words as she released all over his waiting mouth. Her stomach clenched as well as her pussy. Her thighs shook and trembled around his face and he was delighted. He wanted to savor this moment but he had to act quickly.

In the midst of her earth-shattering orgasm, Grayson had jumped up and thrust inside her again, feeling the tight clenching of her pussy as she began to scream now. Back arching and mouth wide open at the feeling of his cock inside her mid-orgasm.

For Grayson, it was an unreal feeling. So tight and warm and now dripping even more. His face was contorting as he could feel himself about to release.

“Fuck, can I cum inside you?” His breaths were labored as he nuzzled his face into her neck. He knew damn well that she was still gushing over him, but he loved to hear her shaky voice.

“Yes! G-grayson!”

The stimulation was too much to handle. He didn’t even let her finish cumming before he began to pound her. She could feel him graze the perfect spot inside her. But then, when his fingers went to rub on her pink little clit again, she couldn’t help but let out a scream as she hit another tsunami of pleasure. Her eyes shut tightly and her mouth was open so wide her jaw hurt.

Seeing her like this, so flustered and sticky and wet and glistening, made him shoot string after string of cum inside her. He could feel it mingling with her own cum, his thighs, and pelvis all viscous from all her cum.

She loved the feeling of his cum inside her, she could feel it shoot inside and oh fuck, did it feel satisfying.

He pulled out, watching their cum trickle out of her pussy. The creamy mess delighted him. Grayson looked up to see her eyes glossy with tears, red cheeks which were stained by her eyes made him frown. But it was only until she tilted her lips up to a smile did he relax and plop himself down next to her. He was caressing her cheek and wiping her tears off.

He kissed her so tenderly, so gently because he knew that she’d had enough, although, he knew he wanted nothing more than to deliver another orgasm to her. 

They laid there, staring deep into each other’s eyes, feeling the same thing when listening to Cigarettes After Sex. The song could evoke such emotion, something that they’d never experienced, which lead them to the pure bliss of eachother’s company once again. 

[beautifulletdownfics]

harry is fine and nina is fine: part iv

It takes him twenty-five minutes, and when he gets there, Nina is sitting on the stairs into the building.

He stops walking as soon as he recognises her. She’s sitting with her elbows perched on her knees staring at the ground below. Her hair is short again, and he can just see the tip of her chin through the curtain of it. He watches as her fingers come together and tangle, the tips of them pressing together in what he knows will be a melody in her head, imaging an instrument beneath them.

Harry watches, standing in the middle of the footpath, unmoving. He was going to take a few moments to himself once he found the right building, but she is waiting for him outside, which stabs at something. He wants to walk right back into her life, but Nina is sitting at the door guarding it away from him.

His boots as he starts walking catches her ear, and she looks in his direction.

Nina’s on her feet in an instant, crossing her arms around her stomach which bunches up the jumper she’s wearing.

He just wants her.

“Hi,” She says quickly, raising one hand for a moment in a wave. Nina’s stepping down to meet him on the street, and Harry looks at the door again, wishing he was being invited inside where he can see soft light coming from small windows.

Who else lived in there with her?

“My housemates are watching The Bachelor,” She explains, noticing Harry looking behind her, “It’s a Friday night thing. None of us has time during the week, so we save the episodes to watch together.”

Harry’s not said anything, and he watches Nina get annoyed at herself for speaking. He never wants her to stop talking. Ever.

“I miss you, Nina, so much,” His voice cracks and he swallows it down quickly, “I don’t want to overstep, but I’m here … I’m in New York ... I just … I just needed to see you.”

Nina takes a step closer to him, and if he reaches out, he could get the material of her jumper between his fingers and pull her against him. He doesn’t, but she's close enough that any second now he’ll smell her there. Then he’ll be completely done for.

“You couldn’t call from London?”

Her words are pointed but lack any real sharpness.

Harry roughly scratches at his hair and looks out to the street for a second, feeling shut down but also frustrated he can’t just bloody tell her to stop being scared of him being there. She’s terrified, he can tell, and he hates that more than anything. Harry just wants her to feel safe with him again. Nina's on guard, and he could scream from the heartbreak of it.

“Nina.” He says her name because he isn’t sure how else to reassure her.

“You look really well, Harry.”

He laughs darkly, “Liar. I look like shit.”

Her lips curve up slightly, and Nina looks at her feet, “You look like you, that’s never shit.”

“You look more beautiful than ever,” Harry gushes quickly, wanting to move closer to her, wanting to feel her body all over because now that he’s so close he just needs all of her.

He watches her eyes widen slightly, and Nina lets out a long, deep breath, “How is everyone, is everyone good?”

Harry can only nod at her, but finds his voice once he’s decided what to say, “Have you missed me? Us? I … Do you love it here? I’m so fucking proud but …”

“Yes,” and her voice is so quiet he almost misses it because Nina’s crying, but then she meets his eyes and repeats her answer, “Yes. Of course, I’ve missed you, Harry. Something reminds me of you every day.”

His heartbreaks. He could almost taste the 'but' Nina was thinking.

Nina’s hands drop from around her body, and she clutches them together in front of herself, they briefly swipe at her face, but she’s trying to hide the tears from him. Harry has watched her cry so many times over the years; there’s no way he isn’t acutely aware.

Harry gives in and steps forward, swallowing her frame in his and clutching her tightly against his chest. He stages his legs wider than hers and Harry’s crying now too because he’s finally holding the one person he’s wanted to hold for eight months, and she feels perfect. She feels like his. She feels like Nina.

“I'm sorry,” He gulps through tears, “I’m such an idiot for not being here months ago.”

Nina’s body shakes, and for a moment, Harry thinks she’s started crying even more severely, but he then realises it’s a self-deprecating laugh, “I shouldn’t have left London.”

His grip on her loosens at that and Harry rests his hands on her shoulders for a moment before he’s pulling back Nina’s hair so he can see her beautiful, wet face, “You don’t like it here?”

He’s frowning, ready to hail a cab and take Nina right to the airport—right like this—and take her home if that’s what she says she wants.

Nina hums slowly and shakes her head, meeting soft resistance where his hands still rest, “No,” she says quietly, “I like it a lot, but it’s been hard. I miss everyone all the time, and I miss London, and I miss you, but this is good for me. I think.”

"You think?"

She smiles, and it squeezes a few lingering droplets from the corners of her eyes, "I've never done anything like this, Harry. I'm living in a different country, and I haven't seen my family in months. I've been entirely on my own and had to build everything here from scratch ... And it's been so hard," Nina's voice breaks on the last two words and Harry watches her compose herself enough to speak again, "But I feel like I'm getting there."

"I wish I'd been here with you," Harry says before he can stop himself.

Nina shakes her head, "I never would have done this with you, Harry. There would have been a million reasons to stay in London. I wouldn't have done this if I hadn't had a reason to get away."

"Neens," Harry's heart hits the concrete under him, and he feels as though he needs to vomit.

"It felt so pathetic to be in London. Seeing everyone and pretending everything was normal and okay when it was anything but," Nina being so forward floors and impresses him at the same time, "It wasn't because I didn't want to be near you ... It was that I was and everything was still fucked. I couldn't escape you because everything and everyone in London was something I built with you."

++

What is she doing? Where has this monster inside of her come from? Nina can't stop herself from hurting him. She's resisting him and steps back from where Harry can reach her.

He looks perfect, even with no sleep and tears in his eyes and sunken features. Nina's lungs hurt from forcing herself to breathe evenly because he's just so gorgeous, and somehow she had started to forget just how much he affected her.

Seeing him brings everything back to the surface as if it was the minute after they broke up all over again. Her whole body aches with sadness and Nina swears she isn't hallucinating how hard it is to breathe.

Yet some rotten part of her is resisting him and Nina isn't sure why. He looks wounded by her moving away from him, Harry is a romantic and she’s convinced the version of this grand gesture that he’d built in his head is slowly crashing and burning.

She wishes it didn’t have to.

Harry looks back down the street and then takes a deep breath when he meets her eyes again, "Do you want me to go?"

She's shaking her head before he finishes his sentence, "No. Harry, I ..."

They watch each other silently for a beat and Nina isn’t sure what to say, but she knows that none of the things running around her head is the right thing to choose.

I’m still so angry.

What the fuck are you actually here for? A reunion?

Stay in New York. Can we please go back to how things were before?

It’s as though she’s spent so long telling herself not to be the pathetic girl who has split apart after a breakup that now Nina is incapable of just falling back into his arms like she’s secretly been wishing to every single day since she last saw him.

Nina was being insane. Harry wasn't the enemy anymore, she was.

"Did you come to clear the air?" She finally asks, needing to know what his intentions were.

Harry starts by shaking his head, then squares his chin defiantly, "No. I came because I fucking miss you. And I want to be us again. I want the world where we're together back. I miss you being my best friend and my lover and my music teacher and my date to boring shit I don't want to go to but have to," Nina steps towards him, wanting to stop the tears escaping down his cheeks. Still, once Harry starts he can't stop himself though, "I want to be the person you call when you feel like chatting about nothing and when you can't make a decision about something trivial or when something awful has happened, and you need me. I want you to need me again. And I want to be in there," He points emphatically to the door behind Nina, "I fucking hate The Bachelor, but I just want to be in there watching it with you."

"I hate it too," Nina says quietly.

"Thank god," He sighs dramatically, "I'm not sure I could actually sit through a whole episode ...” the playfulness that briefly appeared disappeared again, “I don’t want to be nothing anymore, Nina. I miss every inch of you, and I want all of our beautiful life together back.”

Nina bites her lip, half an inch from a sense of relief that has alluded her for eight months, "I live here now. I still have at least 18 months left of study before—"

“—I’ll stay,” Harry tells her quickly, “I’m in New York as long as you’re here.”

"You're crazy," She laughs, not holding back the new set of tears washing down her face.

Harry's eyes glimmer as he smiles back, "Not crazy."

All of a sudden Nina is aware of how far she has come in the last eight months. How had losing Harry gone from feeling like this—like her insides were about to fall out or that she might never be finished crying—to being the duller version she had been living with up until an hour ago when he called. The dullness evaporates in the time Harry's been standing there, and Nina finds herself feeling everything again for the first time.

Harry steps towards her and Nina takes a breath she can't let go of.

His smile is kind and gentle and exactly how she's always known it. Harry tucks all her hair behind her ears like she always said made her look like her brother. He just wants to see her, and in this moment Nina wants him to.

"Nina Mae," He whispers.

Nina launches herself at him, but not into the kiss she knows he had been leaning in for.  Nina just needs to hold him and be held and feel all of him there. She's missed the safety and comfort of Harry's arms completely around her and holding her world together.

He stumbles slightly against her, Nina's arms come to join around behind his neck, which forces him to take a lot of her weight. Harry's arms link low and steady, pulling her tightly against his chest.

"I love you," She says quietly, turning her face into his neck, feeling her lips move against his skin.

Harry shivers but squeezes her tighter, "I love you too."

+++

He wakes with a start and her name on his lips.

“Fuck,” Harry’s arm snaps out hunting for her body before his brain has fully woken up.

She’s there.

His hand meets her side, Nina has turned away from him in her sleep, and his heart is racing because for a second there he wasn’t sure if he would find her next to him. He’d had dreams like this that had felt so real but fallen away to nothing.

Harry drops his arm down over her belly and tucks his fingers between Nina’s hip and the mattress. She’s warm, and her weight on his hand feels marvellous. She’s here.

Harry lifts his leg over her thigh and pulls Nina’s against his body. His nose connects to the back of her neck, and he breathes in deeply. Harry feels tears clogging his throat again, he’s so fucking relieved.

Nina moves against him, disturbed by being moved but not pulled from sleep yet.

Her room is tiny, and Harry’s kneed the walls multiple times already. The size of the bed makes Harry feel as though he’s in Alice in Wonderland, and the room has shrunk around it. Or maybe the bed has grown into the room. Regardless, it’s small but cosy, which means the whole place smells like Nina’s perfume and body creme. Other than that, he room has barely anything in it. Nothing to show a world-class musician lived there.

There’s still a pit of worry in Harry, but it’s residual. He’s so used to the ache of not having her, his body hasn’t quite let go of the feeling yet despite the fact she’s naked in his arms. Harry wants to wake her up so he can hear her voice and know that she hasn’t woken up feeling differently. He has no reason to distrust her, but grief has worn down his confidence, and a lack of love has moored self-doubt to his heart.

Harry falls back to sleep and is woken sometime later by Nina slipping back into bed.

“Morning,” She presses her lips against his eyebrow and shuffles under the covers under the arm he’s slightly lifted in welcome.

He keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t say anything, Harry finds that he can’t think of what to say. He’s terrified something could shatter the wonderland he’s living in right now.

“Harry?” Her fingers lightly trace over his cheek.

Harry opens his eyes and Nina’s right there.

“Hi,” He says.

“Hi.”

[thedreamsmith]

How (Not) to Seduce a Blueshirt (Chapter 4)

@atc74​ @alleiradayne​ @arrowsandmixtapes​ @captain-s-rogers​ for #OC appreciation day 2020

Warnings: Swearing, mild sexual situation 

Pairing: Jim Kirk x OFC

Chapter summary:  Jim is allergic to first dates.

For some reason, Bones had not been thrilled with his news. In fact, he had let out a stream of particularly foul expletives and pinned Jim with a glare that by all accounts should’ve set his hair on fire.

Even so, Bones had agreed to help him pick out something to wear to dinner. For all his CMO loved to jab him with hypos, he was the perfect Southern gentleman and he had the manners and fashion sense to match.

Once Jim had swallowed his pride and comm’d Bones, the good doctor had strode into his hotel room within ten minutes, taken one look at what he was wearing and ordered him to strip because ‘Good God man, you’re not going on a first date to a nice restaurant with a pretty girl wearing that.’

Personally, Jim had thought what he’d been wearing hadn’t been one of the worst getups he’d tried on before Bones got there, but he deferred to the older man’s judgement anyway.

Between the pair of them they had finally agreed on an outfit and that was how Jim found himself standing in front of the mirror, watching his reflection eye the dark jeans, white shirt and dress shoes that Bones had talked him into. They had compromised on the leather jacket, but only because Jim had threatened to reprogram every computer on the ship (besides Spock - he hadn’t quite figured out to rewire him yet) to address Bones as ‘snugglebunny.’

Mirror-Jim looked as nervous as he felt.

How had he convinced himself he could do this? He was a playboy hick from backwater Idaho. Reyne had a medical degree, no criminal record, standards…

It felt as though a metal band was squeezing his chest; growing tighter and tighter as the chrono ticked closer to when he was supposed to meet Reyne in the plaza.

The room was too bright, the hum of the city outside too loud and his reflection had gone blurry.

‘Lights at fifty percent.’ He managed to choke out, though his throat felt like it was closing over. ‘Bones…’

Jim spun towards his friend, stumbling as he struggled to catch his breath.

‘Think ‘m having an allergic reaction.’

And then Bones’ was gripping his shoulders, hands firm and steady as he pushed him towards the bed. He barely registered as his friend waved the tricorder over him once, twice. The frown lines on Bones’ forehead deepened as he checked the results then flicked his gaze back to Jim and the way his shoulders heaved, trying to draw enough oxygen in to stop the room from spinning.

McCoy drew in a deep breath before he spoke, his medical skills diagnosing the issue even as his knowledge of Jim Kirk insisted that this was highly unlikely.

‘Outta all the things you’re allergic to, I doubt that proper first dates are one of them. You’re havin’ a panic attack, Jim.’

Jim briefly interrupted his breathe in, breathe out, don’t-throw-up cycle to shoot a poisonous glare at his friend.

‘Just breath, Jim. You’ll be alright.’ Bones kept his hands on his shoulders, grounding him. ‘Hell, Ree was chattering about this date with my nurses the other day – had to shoo her from the medbay so they could get anything done.’

Jim raised his head a little, expression hopeful.

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. So quit being an idiot and keep your head between your knees. I don’t need you passing out before you’ve left your room. I had enough of carrying you back to your room at the Academy.’

*

Reyne was already in the plaza when he arrived. She was in conversation with a couple of Enterprise crew members. He recognised the taller, darker of the two men as one of Bones’ best nurses – distinctive for the sleeves of tattoos that disappeared beneath the cuffs of his civvies. The other was fair haired and shorter, also sporting tattoos and the same Scottish earth accent as Scotty and Reyne. As the trio turned to face him, he placed the shorter man as one of Scotty’s crew, a brilliant electrical engineer he’d picked from the Academy himself. Ensign Josh Watt.

Ensign Watt smirked and murmured something to her that made her blush and laugh as she waved them off.

But all thoughts of Reyne’s friends left his head as she stepped around nurse Stephen, towards him. Laughter danced in her eyes, a few shades darker than his own, as she took him in. In a navy, knee length dress, her curves could’ve stopped ships at warp speed.

The artificial lights of Yorktown had been dimmed to mimic sundown, and the lamps overhead illuminated her ivory skin in a warm glow.

‘You look amazing.’ Oh great, Jim. Thirty years old and that’s the best he could do?

‘Not too bad yourself, Captain.’ He glanced up from his own shoes to see that Reyne was smiling, amusement still glimmering in her eyes as she stepped closer.

Bolstered by the knowledge that he hadn’t cocked it up in the first five minutes, Jim let his features slip into a crooked grin. With slowly-returning confidence, he grasped her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles.

Reyne’s eyebrows shot up but she didn’t pull her hand away.

‘I promised Stephen that I’d let you know that I’m armed.’ She delivered the line with such casual amusement that his heart nearly stopped in his chest with a painful thud. But she tightened his grip on his hand before gracefully looping her arm around his waist. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t intend to use it. I very much want to be here.’

Her grin was warm as she tilted her head to one side, and her height meant that she didn’t need to raise her gaze far to meet his eyes. ‘I want to be here, Jim.’

‘You’re terrible.’ He draped his arm over her shoulders, enjoying the warmth of her body tucked against his side.

Reyne shrugged slightly, the movement shifting his arm. ‘I only own one knife. If you think that’s bad, you should meet Stephen - he always has at least two on his person at any given time. Legal carries, of course. Although there was that Cardassian hunting knife he was looking at last shore leave…’

She trailed off as she registered the expression of disbelief that must’ve shown on his face.

‘My friends are weird.’

‘I think Scotty and Jaylah would take offence to that.’ They passed storefronts and restaurants; lit with strings of jewel-toned lights and orbs that floated above the heads of passers-by.

‘Scotty was exalting the virtues of deep fried mars bars and pickle sandwiches yesterday. I don’t think he gets a say in this.’

‘That seems fair.’ Jim laughed, feeling lighter than he had in a long while. ‘So I have to ask, where are you keeping a knife in that get up?’

Reyne’s gaze slid slowly over to him as a wicked smirk lifted the corners of her mouth.

‘A lady never tells, Captain.’

*

It was well past midnight by the time they made it back to the hotel that most of the crew were staying in. His face hurt from the grin that he’d had on for most of the evening and his fingers were tangled with hers.

Too soon, they reached her door and the conversation petered out as they both silently acknowledged the choice that lay before them.

‘I really enjoyed tonight.’ It would seem that his sparkling wit had failed him once again tonight. He fumbled for the right words to convey what he felt, a way to secure another night like this and maybe another after that. ‘I just mean, I had expected to, of course, despite the panic attack I had earlier.’

‘Panic attack?’ Concern laced Reyne’s voice, brows kitting together as she searched his face.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. Quick, Jim, think.

‘Right, here goes nothing.’ He forced himself to hold her gaze, to watch for her reaction. ‘For most of my life, I’ve never tried particularly hard when it comes to dating. Usually all it takes is an introduction and my reputation does the rest but with you, that doesn’t work cause you just don’t care. You’ve never fallen at my feet and you want more from me than a quick fuck and some pretty words. And that terrifies me. I panicked ‘cause I don’t believe I deserve someone like you, Reyne.’

‘You’re right – I don’t care about any of those things. I said yes because you’re also the Jim Kirk who regularly attempts to sacrifice himself for his friends; who actually died to save a ship full of people he barely knew. I said yes because underneath the charisma and the recklessness and the batshit crazy, even without knowing you all that well, I’ve seen and heard glimpses of a heart of gold and an intellect to rival Commander Spock’s. My point is, you’re multifaceted, Jim; and are much more than you think you are. Plus, the package it’s all wrapped up in doesn’t hurt.’ A smirk lifted the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m aware you don’t have the best track record when it comes to long-term partners; but if you’re willing to try, then I’ll happily boldly go where no one else has before.’

Well, if that wasn’t an invitation then he didn’t know what was…

The sound of the Captain’s Oath falling from that mouth was downright obscene, but it was all Jim could do to lean forward, a silent answer to a question she hadn’t asked out loud. He closed his eyes, held his breath until he felt the warmth of her mouth against his. Reyne pressed slow kisses to his lower lip, lingering too long for it to be called chaste, but far too reverent to be lewd.

Jim found that it was nice to share a first kiss that didn’t taste of alcohol – that wasn’t fast and hard and needy. Not to say that there was no lust there, just that he was perfectly content to lean against the door of her room and continue this slow exploration of lips and tongues and teeth.

A whine escaped him as she pulled away; spots of colour high on her cheeks, lips ever-so-slightly swollen from the kiss.

‘You’re terrible for my self-control.’

‘Who needs self-control anyway?’ Certainly not James T Kirk. His grin was twelve kinds of filthy as he gazed at her with heavy-lidded eyes. ‘I might not be Uhura with her fancy xenolinguistics degree, but I’ve been told that I have excellent oral sensitivity.’

A beat of silence followed, before Reyne’s face crumpled and she doubled over with laughter, the sound rich and sweet and deeper than he had expected. Jim decided right there that Reyne’s laughter was his favourite sound in the entire galaxy and he would gladly make a fool out of himself just to hear it every day of their 5-year mission.

Dark eyebrows knitted together as she fought for breath, and she could already feel herself flushing to the tips of her ears. She thought back to the one time she had seen Jim shirtless in the medbay after an away mission – the man had a body made for pleasure and sin and even then, she had decided that no one should be allowed to be so goddamn beautiful.

‘And not just oral sensitivity,’ Jim pushed his advantage, never one to miss an opportunity. ‘Let’s not forget dexterity, flexibility, stamina-‘

The Many Virtues of Jim Kirk were cut short as Reyne grabbed the lapels of his jacket and yanked him down for another kiss – this one decidedly more heated. Her clever tongue flicked along the seam of lips before gently tugging his lower lip between her teeth, earning a low groan from Jim.

Jim tangled his fingers in her thick, dark locks, tugging hard enough to elicit a gasp from the doctor.

‘Is this your way of telling me to shut up? Cause if it is, you can tell me to shut up anytime.’ And Jim found that he was entirely open to this kind of positive reinforcement, especially when it involved a hotter than Hell medical officer and her unholy way of finding that spot on his neck that – fuck.

Reyne bit down and his hips jerked involuntarily. Her thigh was a solid presence between his legs, the seam of her jeans enough to produce a maddening amount of friction against him and dammit he was the captain of Starfleet’s flagship, not some overeager teenager getting to second base with a girl for the first time.

Her smile took on a distinctly naughty cast and he’d be damned if it didn’t go straight to his dick – like he needed any help in that department. A pleasant daydream of an unruly science officer in need of punishment, pulled up in front of her captain for insubordination filled his brain.

‘I don’t put out on the first date, Jim.’ Her voice was soft, a gentle reminder. ‘It’s late, I’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, see you tomorrow.’

With one last smile and a quick peck on the cheek, Reyne tapped in her room code and disappeared into the darkened room, leaving Jim to sag against the wall.

She had him wrapped around her finger already.

He was in so much shit.

[authorlmfletcher]

It’s been a bit since the last chapter - sorry about that! Here’s the newest one! :) 

(Based on the beautiful comic images by @sidsinning​) 

CHAPTER NINE: 

READ IT ON: Ao3   |  FFNET

Adrien waited until he was out of sight of the house before stopping for a moment. His heart beat loudly for more reasons than running. 

Realization settled heavy in his chest. Somehow, in the last few days, he had fallen madly and completely in love with Marinette. His brain swirled at the thought, panic settling in that the plan he had in place needed to work. If he ever hoped to have her for real, this had to work. 

Plagg floated casually nearby, a smug look on his face. 

"This better work." The cat just laughed. 

Shaking his head, Adrien called for the transformation, feeling his body merge with Plagg. Crouching to all fours, power surged through his muscles - turning his feet to paws, ears to the top of his head, fur covering his skin. He was moving before the sensation was over, pushing his way through the valley floor on a determined path. Time to get things in motion.

His father's house was quiet when he scrambled over the roof and into the yard. Wives were scattered all over so he slipped into their part of the house. He had never gone in their half of the house before. It was all soft and colourful, curtains and tapestries and comfortable looking pillowed beds. Shelves of beauty supplies lined one wall and a closet full of gowns filled another. 

His paws carefully climbed onto one of the shelves. The nearly overwhelming stench of perfume made him gag before one paw very intentionally pushed a bottle off the edge. Crashing with a satisfying shatter on the floor, he decided to push the next bottle off as well. Glass smashed in pieces all over the place, releasing the smell all over the room. 

A pair of young women came racing into the room with a gasp, hands covering their mouths. If he was his human self, he likely would have laughed out loud at their exaggerated expressions and screeches. 

"Oh, you naughty kitty!" One scolded, carefully stepping her way over the destruction to scoop him off the ledge and cradle him in her arms. "Mistress Nathalie is going to be angry at you now, you little troublemaker." She scratched his ears with a soft expression on her face. 

This one, he decided, was his target. He turned on the purr, rubbing against her hand with his eyes closed. The other wife skittered off, likely to tattle on the cat who had knocked the bottles off the shelf. Knowing his time was limited, Chat calmly jumped out of his rescuer's arms and transformed back in plain sight. Plagg didn't say a word as he zipped into Adrien's pocket.

She gasped at his sudden shapeshift, her soft brown eyes wide as her mouth puckered in a perfect "o" shape.  He shot her his infamous cheeky grin, pressing a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet. 

"Come on, let's have some fun," he whispered, stretching out one hand for her to grab. Already he could hear Nathalie's footsteps barrelling towards the room. The young woman looked uncertain, but before Nathalie appeared giggled slightly and took his offer. 

They ran through the halls, trying not to laugh as they slid out of sight from his father's prime wife. Nathalie would be seriously annoyed by his actions, he knew, but this was definitely worth it. 

The girl beside him was out of breath, her short dark hair askew from running, laughing behind her hand. He grinned at her. 

"I'm Adrien, Gabriel's son. What's your name?"

"Mireille," she offered. 

"So, Mireille, I was wondering if you might like to help me play a trick on my father?" Her eyes widened slightly, her soft giggles vanishing. 

"Lord Gabriel?" she gasped. Trying to play the whole thing off as a casual idea, Adrien leaned in closer with a grinning nod. 

"Yeah. See, here's the thing. The wife quarters seem kind of crowded, don't they?" She nodded hesitantly, obviously aware of the God of Fire and his dangerous rage.  "I think a new bride is supposed to arrive soon and I thought it would be hilarious to give him one he already has!" 

Mireille blinked. 

"Instead of adding a new wife to your side of the house, what if you dressed up in your wedding dress again and pretend to be a new wife? I doubt he would even notice you were already one of his wives! Wouldn't that be hysterical?" 

She smiled a little, admitting that it was kind of amusing. 

"But.. he doesn't really seem like the kind of guy who would take a joke well…" she mused, her fingers wringing together.  

Adrien shrugged. 

"He wouldn't do anything. And I will be there. If he does get angry, I promise we will get you out of there as fast as possible. I will take the heat, not you." He smiled at his joke, internally begging her to play along in the game.

"What if he recognizes me?" Her eyes popped wide. "What about Nathalie?" 

Nathalie was a valid concern. One that Adrien had been mulling over at length. Right now, the primary plan consisted of somehow keeping her out of the way during this whole facade. 

"Don't worry. I will figure out Nathalie." He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. 

"So, are you in?" He waited as she looked guilty then nervous then curious and finally ready. When she nodded in agreement, he almost squealed in excitement. He sent her off to find the other wife she had been hanging out with earlier - tall with long blonde hair. Mireille returned with her, introducing her as her friend Aurore. Adrien explained the plan, getting them  both excited before they vanished back into the women's half of the house to get Mireille ready for the night's adventure. 

Plagg gave a thumbs up from his comfortable lounging in the pocket, cheese crumbs lining the bottom. 

"Gross," muttered Adrien, making his way to where Nathalie had to be. She still supervised the clean up of the perfume bottles, looking completely unperturbed by the potent smell. 

"What happened?" He asked calmly, amused when she spun to glare at his direction. 

"No games, Adrien. I know it was you." He just shrugged, not able to deny the truth. 

"Father here?" Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glared at him.

"In the garden." She turned back to the two women who were charged with clean up duty, waving them off with orders to bathe the stench off. 

"I wish you could control yourself, Adrien. Perfume causes such a mess and is so expensive. Those two are going to smell for weeks." She sighed with a pause, watching him from the side of her eye. "Why are you here?" 

He grinned. 

"Well, I was thinking of taking a wife," he began, chuckling when he took in the gaping expression that crossed her face before she clamped her mouth shut with a snap. 

"And you want his permission to marry Chloe." She nodded, looking very much like she thought it was her responsibility to bring the news to Gabriel herself. Already her feet were moving them through the courtyard that led to his father's quarters. 

He just laughed, grabbing her shoulders. 

"No, no. I was hoping for advice." Nathalie frowned at him a moment. 

"Don't break perfume bottles," she quipped, causing him to burst out with actual surprise. 

"Noted." He gestured towards his old room. "Can we talk in here? I have some questions." Looking over her shoulder to make sure the rest of the wives were being dutiful, she nodded. 

His former bedroom room remained essentially unchanged from his childhood - oversized, empty, and impersonal. For a man who was the God of Fire, his father sure preferred to live in a place that resonated with coldness. A large bed in the middle of one wall, a table and chair in the other, every other evidence of his life there wiped away. How many hours had he spent staring at the beams vaulted above his bed? How long had he paced around the large space out of boredom until he’d finally been allowed to experience freedom? How had he survived this relative captivity? 

A quick shake of his head forced him to draw his attention back to the moment, catching sight of Nathalie’s calculating gaze. She was a shrewd woman, one that he knew he had to take extra care with during this whole thing. If she figured out everything that was going on, she would single-handedly destroy the glimmer of true happiness that Marinette offered him. 

Flashing her a nervous smile that he hoped she would take as nerves about the topic of their conversation, he flopped on the bed. 

“What do you want to know, Adrien?” Her voice was to the point as she sat on the chair. 

“Well, I guess - Father has so many wives. How does Bride Day actually work?” He sat up, giving her a curious look. Nathalie just sighed in response. 

“Your father’s experience is different than almost anyone else, I think.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “How much do you know about your mother?” Adrien blinked, a little blindsided by the unexpected question. When he mostly responded by shrugging with a gaping look, she continued. 

His mother, he discovered, was a human woman from the village. His father had been instantly smitten by her and she had fallen for him almost at the same speed. A quick courtship had led to a speedy marriage. Gods didn’t generally participate in the ceremonies of the mortals, but to honour his bride, Gabriel decided to follow her traditions: elaborate wedding wear and formal rituals with a small group of her family in attendance as witnesses.

Adrien felt riddled with questions - never having had anyone tell him the story of his parents or their love for each other. All his memories consisted of his father’s coldness and distance after she had died. He could barely even remember his mother - nothing more than the feeling of happiness her laugh would give him and the feel of her arms hugging him tight.

Nathalie continued, explaining that after his mother died, his father had been filled with rage - ready to destroy the village that represented the life and the woman he loved. It was only the intercession of a village elder who had stopped the village from burning to the ground. She offered him a new wife, dutiful and obedient. She offered him Nathalie.

At first, he wouldn't agree, taking a long time to get to know Nathalie before agreeing with some stipulations - a new wife every year. Nathalie knew she could never replace Adrien's mother, instead working to protect the village even though she grew to love Gabriel in her own way. 

Now, many years after Gabriel had agreed to the annual ritual, he had a houseful of wives he never cared for, never visited, and rarely even acknowledged. She admitted to not really understanding the point of the whole experience but cut herself off with a flush, her open look of concern and compassion quickly set back behind the smooth face of a dutiful wife. 

When pressed, Nathalie walked through the typical process of a bride day: the young woman arriving at his door late in the evening, having completed whatever ceremony they did in the village, dressed in an extremely elaborate wedding gown. However, unlike the traditions of the village, marriage here in his father's house simply consisted of the new bride speaking a vow of fealty to the God of Father once he approved of her. The new bride was whisked off to the women's quarters by Nathalie, where she was expected to behave according to her new station. She could never leave, never love, never experience anything beyond the tall stone walls of his father’s home. Wives were expected to be available on-demand if Gabriel ever had need or want of them, beautiful and poised.

“So it’s all just a show,” Adrien commented, more frustrated than ever that his father would take these women and just abandon them. Marinette would spend her life in this horrible place, surrounded by women and never allowed to have anyone care for her. He knew how that felt, having been the son of the monster. But it was different for him. These women had no chance to escape. Nothing. 

“Not exactly,” Nathalie muttered in return. “He sees it as retribution owed to him for the death of your mother.” 

Adrien couldn’t help the frown that furrowed into his brow in frustration. He might not be able to do anything for the wives who were already in Gabriel’s home, but he wasn’t going to let his Marinette fall into the same life. His plan now needed to keep Nathalie out of the way so that they could try to convince his father than Mireille was a new bride. 

It was with quick and unexpected movements that he jumped from his place on the bed and strode his way to the large door, flinging it open. Nathalie’s usually unflappable composure broke until wide-eyed surprise when he bowed sharply. 

“Thank you for your help, Nathalie.” 

He pulled the door closed behind him with a louder bang than he’d intended, holding it closed as he hissed at Plagg. The little cat whizzed forward in a dark blur, disappearing through the wood for a moment until there was a resounding click, locking the bedroom. He could hear Nathalie calling his name from the inside - frantic and with a sharp level of annoyance. 

Plagg looked pleased enough with their progress. 

“Ok, now for the bride,” Adrien said.

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

Marinette tried to keep herself busy - sorting through the artwork that had been strewn all over the table. Adrien had been so genuinely appreciative of her designs. She stared at the wedding gown that she’d designed with a sense of sadness. Once upon a time, she’d envisioned herself wearing it - radiant and beautiful and in love, meeting her heartmate to celebrate their marriage. It had filled so many of her youthful daydreams. But now, she was married to a God. The fancy gown she’d been given to him in hadn’t even been of her choosing - beautiful but not her own design. A soft sigh escaped her as she carefully stacked her drawings back into the box. 

Tikki mewed softly, drawing Marinette’s attention back to her curious kitten. Snuggling the little furball against her cheek, Marinette danced around the house with a smile. She might not have had the chance to wear the gown of her dreams, but at least she was happy. 

The day was quiet. She tried not to think about what exactly he was doing, where he had gone - food, kitten snuggles, sketches of Adrien’s face, and daydreams of desperate kisses filled her time instead. 

The sun was well overhead into the afternoon when she sank onto the chair of the overlook, a mug of warm drink in her hands and kitten coiled at her feet, wishing that he was there to curl up with.  It was strange to think of how quickly her life had changed. She missed the village and her parents still, but now she yearned to hear his laughter, to see his eyes dance with mischief, to feel his arms around her. 

Against her feet, Tikki stirred, ears upright and eyes wide as she stared through the house. 

“What is it?” Marinette asked, twisting around to see what her kitten was staring at with such intensity. Suddenly, the kitten bolted off the lounge chair, hiding underneath. Marinette frowned, uncertain what would cause her cat to behave in such a way. 

A loud rap on the door was the answer. 

Marinette wasn’t sure if she should open it or not - the  memory of Adrien’s almost panicked pleading for her safety fluttering through her brain. The knock sounded again. Maybe it was Nino. Maybe Adrien had sent him to check up on her while he was gone.  On the third knock, Marinette moved to the door and pulled it open.

On the other side stood a woman - the sun alight on her long golden tresses and bouncing off the bright gold of her gown. She was breathtakingly beautiful - shocking blue eyes, perfect balanced lips, and a face that practically glowed. Marinette stood in surprise as the being stared down at her with a look of utter contempt. 

“Who are you?” The woman’s voice wasn’t kind as she shoved Marinette out of the doorway and stepped into the house. “Where’s Adrikins?” 

Adrikins? 

Marinette couldn’t find her voice, shocked speechless by the arrogance and dismissal. The woman looked around the house in a sweeping glance before turning her eyes back to Marinette, taking a long glance up and down her frame before sneering slightly. The sneer marred all the beauty of her face, twisting it up into something monstrous and ugly. 

“What are you doing here in my Adrikin’s house? I didn’t know he was slumming with humans now.” Eyes narrowed.  “Wait. Why are you wearing MY robe? Did Adrien give you that?” The screech that she emitted was ear piercing.  

Marinette stumbled back against the wall when the other woman reached out to grab the gown, a terrible ripping sound filling the room as a seam tore apart, leaving Marinette’s shoulder exposed. 

“For his father’s wife, he said. Ooooh, I should have known he was lying! He’s always lying! He is supposed to be with me, the beautiful one, not an ugly human like you!” Another rip sounded before the woman froze, her eyes wide. 

“A human….. A wife…..” The golden haired woman stepped back, her fingers untangling from the fabric of Marinette’s robe as a smug look covered her features. “Are you a sacrifice? For Bride Day?” 

Marinette just nodded, unsure exactly what was going on, resisting the temptation to clutch the torn gown around herself as the woman cackled. 

“Oh, priceless. Adrikins, what are you up to now?” 

The woman took another scathing glance from Marinette’s head to toes and back again. 

“If you are trying to seduce my Adrikins before the wedding, think again. He’s mine, do you hear? You will never have him. Your pathetic little village will burn to the ground.” Hair flipped over a creamy shoulder as the woman flounced back through the door. 

Marinette stood blinking in the door as the woman vanished down the path, the angle of the sun nearly blinding off her gown. Who was she, this golden woman who claimed possession of Adrien? Was she one of his wives? 

Unsure if she should be worried or not, she tried to squash the feeling of panic that attempted to wind through her. Her fingers clutched the ladybug charm on her wrist, drawing strength from it. Life as a wife of a God wasn’t bound to be easy, especially if she had to share him with jealous wives. 

She had no reason to think that Adrien’s actions and behaviours over the last few days had been anything other than sincere. The look in his eyes couldn’t have been faked. She knew it. 

Closing the door with a quiet click, she looked down at the torn robe. It looked salvageable, the tears mostly following the seams. Untying it, she let it drop to the floor before scooping it up into her arms. Tikki appeared at her side, rubbing softly against her ankle in comfort. 

“Thanks, Tikki,” Marinette whispered, dropping the gown on the couch and gathering the rest of her sewing supplies. Tikki made herself at home in the pool of fabric, curling up in the pile. It made Marinette smile. 

Her heart yearned for Adrien to come home. For him to answer the questions that she had. To explain more about life with wives and her role with it in. The thought of sharing him made her feel a twang of heartbreak. Chiding herself over her selfishness, she pushed her needle through the fabric, lining the edges back together with experienced stitches as the sun left the sky over the mountains a fiery red while it sank under the horizon. 

[memoirsverse]

Dresden Files/The Authors of Paradise: Dark Days

This is a crossover fan novel featuring my own characters and world of The Authors of Paradise, blended with those of Jim Butcher’s The Dresden Files. This derivative crossover work is being written for the sheer fun of it, with no financial gain. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden, The Dresden Files, and all associated characters. I own Evelyn Alvar, Arabella Thorne, Thornebridge Manor, The Authors of Paradise, and all associated characters. I’ve taken the two worlds, mashed them together, and whipped up this meandering thingamabob. Mmm, tasty. 

This novel is rated M for Mature, because it’ll get bloody. This chapter isn’t bloody, though; just dreadful.

i. Evelyn

I emerged in a room that shifted and warped, always in motion, always changing, and turned my attention to the figure standing at the far end. A softly glowing, color-changing mist curled around my ankles as I walked past impossible staircases and other Mobius-like structures, approaching the figure. It stood dispassionate, sexless, an endless void that glimmered with distant stars. Its name was Thornebridge, and this was the form it took in this place.

If I looked too deeply into that void, I would be drawn in, tumbling helplessly for eons as every potentiality, every reality, every actuality, every universe seared itself indelibly onto my conscious mind. I would know the truth about myself if I did that. I didn’t want to know. I most certainly did not want to know. I was confident it would drive me mad.

My bare feet settled into place, concealed by the mist, as I stopped directly in front of Thornebridge. I was wearing the filmy white thing that I always wore when I Traveled, and hair the color of moonlight tumbled over my marble-toned shoulders. I’d seen my reflection before in this form. I looked like a marble statue with intensely purple-jewel eyes, inhuman and profoundly alien. I had grown accustomed to it, but I still didn’t understand the why of it.

“You have something to tell me?” I ventured finally. I would never be entirely comfortable talking with Thornebridge-- if talking was the right word. The entity had its own language, one that didn’t often translate well into English, or any other language with actual words.

The response was instantaneous. From out of the mist, a great tower pushed its way out of the hidden ground, rumbling like thunder as it grew to a great height. Dust and debris rained down from it as it stretched higher and higher like some kind of monolithic tree, until its top vanished into the star-studded, nebula-swirled darkness above. A pair of winged figures circled the tower, armed with swords, their wings beating the air into a whirlwind as they flew around and around and around it.

A low, animalistic growl surged behind me, and I turned to see a man dressed in robes and expensive finery, crowned by four inverted pentacles that spun around his head. The man looked like a photograph in negative exposure, black and white, light where he should be dark and dark where he should be light. He ran at the tower and leaped on it, clawing at its base, digging to its foundations, tearing off huge chunks of stone and dropping them into a large canvas bag he carried slung over one shoulder. The two angels didn’t seem to see him, continuing their high-altitude patrol.

I sighed. The overall message was obvious, but the details were still obscured. “Who’s attacking you?” I asked.

The robed man vanished from his place by the tower and appeared before me so suddenly that I took a couple of steps backwards. I took a breath to steady myself and turned my eyes to Thornebridge. “But who is he?”

The human-shaped starry void said nothing. Of course. It stood still, its head turned towards me.

I could look into its void and See...

Shaking my head, I motioned with my hand to the diorama. “If you want our help, you’re going to have to be a bit more clear than that. Okay?”

Thornebridge just watched me. This was apparently the entirety of the message; I wasn’t going to get any more unless I Looked.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed again. “All right, fine. I’ll see what I can dig up.”

Thornebridge nodded, and the scene vanished, replaced once again with the Escher-like environment. Closing my eyes, I let myself phase through the layers of reality, back to whatever dimension my Traveling form was held in. I felt the threads of silken energy close around me like a cocoon, and my conscious awareness faded to gentle black before becoming aware of the weight and solid mass of my everyday form.

I lay there for a minute, eyes closed, letting my consciousness re-align with physical reality. Slowly, my senses re-connected and began to filter information back to me: the lingering scent of incense, the soothing flow of the meditative music that I had set to play in a loop, the spongy feel of the mat between my body and the hardwood floor, the slight chill in the room that raised gooseflesh over my arms. It was September, and morning, and my stomach informed me that I had not yet eaten breakfast.

Opening my eyes, I stretched, then rose to my feet. The room my housemate Arabella and I had designated for communication sessions with Thornebridge was sparsely decorated with a couple of small tables, a bowl for incense, a scattering of candles, a few carefully placed crystals, some calming prints framed on the walls, a small rock garden, and an iPod set up with a meditation playlist. It was simple and zen, intended to cultivate the kind of relaxation needed to put one’s self into a deep trance.

I turned off the iPod, blew out the candles and the incense, and left the room in the heart of the house, winding my way through corridors that never seemed to follow the same path. I had gotten lost on multiple occasions while trying to find my way through the less stable portions of the house, until I had learned to open my senses enough to navigate my way to the space Arabella and I lived day-to-day. 

I saw the door, and my senses told me it was the one that led to the mundane part of the house. It was always a different door, sometimes massive and intricately carved, sometimes simple and rustic. Today, it was narrow, arterial red, and half my height, sporting an ornate silver knob. I turned the knob, opened the door, and stepped out of the dizzying instability of Thornebridge Manor and into the dimensionally stable, comforting warmth of the house’s living space. 

The difference in energy always takes a moment or two to adjust to. It’s a little bit like waking up from a dream, as reality re-establishes itself around you, solid and fixed. After taking a few slow breaths and doing a little grounding exercise by placing my palm flat against a wall and feeling its solidity, I moved on, making my way to the kitchen. 

_________________________________________

The coffee tasted hot and sweet as I sipped it from my favorite old coffee mug, which depicted a calico cat similar in appearance to my own Nimue, batting playfully at a Victorian-style fairy. The house was strangely quiet and felt vast and empty; Arabella had left town to attend some sort of bookseller’s conference. Slowly, I ate a breakfast of eggs, biscuits, and fruit, as I held my battered, leatherbound notebook in my left hand and read over the notes I had written on this morning’s communication with Thornebridge. A well-worn deck of tarot cards, its colors faded and its edges tattered, rested beside the notebook.

I took a bite of scrambled eggs, set my fork down, and flipped through the cards, withdrawing the Tower, the Emperor, Temperance, and the Four of Pentacles, laying them out on the table beside my plate. Chewing thoughtfully, I studied the cards, static images embodying the living diorama I had seen in the communication room, but I came no closer to achieving clarity. The only thing I knew for certain was that someone was attacking Thornebridge, someone Arabella and I-- the Guardians of Thornebridge Manor-- had not yet seen or encountered.

That... was not good. There was an endless list of reasons why that was not good. But I still had precious little to go on. It would be nice, I thought, if the damn house would learn to speak English.

An alarm sounded on my phone, alerting me that it was time to get ready for work, so I put my plate in the dishwasher, returned to my bedroom to dress, made sure my cat and Arabella’s dog Ghost had plenty of fresh water, checked on Virgil the ferret in his little house, and hurried out the door to drive to the shop. There wasn’t a lot I could do until I had more information, and I certainly wasn’t going to figure out the puzzle sitting here all day.

_________________________________________

I own a little shop called Boreas Curios, Antiques, and Odditites. It’s a quaint little place, sharing a storefront with a pizza parlor and a jewelry store, and is situated directly across the street from Arabella’s place of business, an antique bookstore that she inherited from its former owner when he retired. It was something akin to kismet that the two of us spent years working in these places, across the street from one another, before we met for the first time through completely unrelated events. And it wasn’t for a lack of browsing each others’ shops either-- I love books, and Arabella is a bona fide pack rat and loves to collect all sorts of strange and wonderful things. And vice versa. We just always managed to visit when neither of us was in our respective shop.

The shop was slow throughout the morning, giving me time to sort through inventory and clean a little bit as I tried to shake the lingering feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I chalked it up to the vagaries of my communication session with Thornebridge and carried on. A few minutes to eleven, Violet breezed in through the front door, smiling brightly at me with her black-lipsticked lips as we greeted each other. Her hair was short and spiky, black tipped with blue, and she wore black-and-white striped stockings on her arms and legs, a green corset, a knee-length black tulle skirt, and a pair of worn old army boots. She waved at me with a black-fingernailed hand and disappeared into the back of the shop, re-emerging a short time later wearing a blue apron that absolutely clashed with her getup.

I didn’t mind her eccentric way of dressing; in fact, I felt it fit the atmosphere of the shop perfectly. She cashed in to her register, and then set about helping me sort through a box of mini-Furbies that had been programmed to say diabolical things. The store rang out with sinister phrases such as, “I am Lord Beelzebub, hear me rooooar!” and “Sacrifice your virgins on the altar of the Goat King!” for several minutes as we inserted batteries, cataloged everything in the system, and put the Furbies in a wire bin near the register. The Diabolical Furby Collection was Violet’s idea, and I thought it fit nicely in with the theme of Strange and Bizarre I had cultivated in the shop. After all, I kept a constant supply of haunted dolls on a shelf situated on the back wall. People loved creepy things. They always sold well.

Right around 1:45, just as the lunch rush had mostly dissipated, the sky went dark, not gradually, but in a quick fade, as if somebody had used a dimmer switch to turn off the sun, cloaking the world in night. 

Violet, looking up from where she was ringing up one of the last customers in the store, frowned. “Um. Evelyn?” She paused, then added, “Did somebody forget to pay the sunlight bill?” The joke fell flat as her voice trembled a bit. 

I was busy staring through the glass door, blinking in confusion. The slight uneasiness I had felt earlier amplified itself, evolving into the kind of dread that speeds up the heart rate and sends butterflies swarming through the stomach. Violet clearly felt the same, but it was probably just from the inexplicable celestial event. Right? 

“What in the blazes...” I murmured. Casting a glance at Violet and her equally confused and anxious customer, I strode across the shop and out the door, peering up at the sky, searching for the sun. Violet joined me a minute or two later, after shooing the customers out and locking the door.

“Is... is it an eclipse?” she asked, doubt slowing her words. I shook my head, but pulled my phone from my apron and began pulling up an online almanac to be sure.

“Probably not,” I said. “Wouldn’t have gone dark that quickly.” I scanned the almanac long enough to determine that there had been no eclipses predicted for the day, and then my phone went dark.

So did the rest of the block. All around us, the lights illuminating the buildings flickered out, plunging the world into heavy darkness. Even the cars on the street died, rolling to a stop. I heard the metallic clatter of a car wreck somewhere in the near distance, and somebody screamed.

The creeping dread flared into visceral, heart-pounding terror, and for a moment, I was lost in it. I wanted to fall to my knees, pull at my hair, and moan with it. I wanted to dig into the ground and hide from the darkness, to curl into myself, to lose myself to the fear, to be consumed by it. It coiled around me, a primal, atavistic horror that threatened to strangle the life from me. I was barely aware of Violet next to me, frozen and trembling with the same terror.

A long moment passed, and the dread eased of its own accord. It still lingered, pulsing softly on a psychic wavelength, but it no longer threatened to drive us mad. I found I had indeed fallen to the ground, and slowly got to my hands and knees, reaching out to help Violet to her feet. The girl was still shaking, her blue eyes wide in the gloom, but she let me stand her up and steady her.

“What was that?” she cried, but then seemed to realize how near to panic she was edging, and took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She leveled her gaze on me and said, “I’m going to guess you’ll be leaving the shop to me for a bit.”

I hadn’t ever told Violet about my other job, the one where I worked for the sentient spirit of a dimensionally transcendent and unstable house, but the girl wasn’t stupid. She’d picked up on the fact that I had a tendency to deal with the out-of-the-ordinary things that seemed so often to happen around me. I sighed and ran my hand through my short, wavy hair, a deep chestnut with hints of red and a stark contrast to the flowing silver locks of my Traveling form. 

I turned on my heels and strode around to my car, a 90s-era silver Accord parked in the employee-designated spaces in the parking lot. Violet followed. Unlocking the trunk with the key set I had in my jeans pocket, I removed the emergency bag I kept packed and ready. “Close the shop,” I told her, then frowned. I had been about to tell her to pack up and go home, but she lived several miles away and it seemed as if the cars had all died too. “Stay indoors, keep the doors locked, and watch for looters.”

“That baseball bat still under the counter?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said, and paused. If that feeling of dread had been city-wide, it meant we’d be dealing with mass panic, and panicked people can be violent. “But don’t try to be heroic, okay? If anybody gets violent, just get on out of there. Find somewhere safe. There will probably be some sort of organizational effort to keep things under control, maybe a place for people to gather for shelter, a church or something. Try to find it if you can’t stay in the shop.”

“Gotcha.”

From the bag I removed a pair of silver rods, slender, about the length of my forearm, and etched with runes, then slung the bag over my shoulder. 

Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the darkness.

[killerqueenmachine]

Forbidden Fruit - Brian May x Reader - PART 1

Pairing: Brian May (1973) x Reader

Words: 1700 words

Prompt: None Summary: You're Roger Taylors little sister. He's been refusing introducing you to his band, because he doesn't want his bandmembers getting their hands on you. You have another plan. You sneak into one of their shows and one particular curly-haired guitarist catches your eye and Roger isn't too happy about that.

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing… slight violence.

Note: The gif is not mine, I don’t know who made it. This is a mess and didn't turn out how I wanted it too.. Well well well. If this isn't the consequences of my own actions. Part 2 of this can be found on my Masterlist.

_________________________

"Roger, please! I just wanna go and see my big brother be a rock star!"

You begged your brother once again. He had never once taken you to a Queen show. He had thrown a number of excuses at you. It's a closed gig. Oh, we're not that good. I don't want you to waste your time. It's dangerous. You wont like it. Knowing him, you thought it was more likely, that he just didn't want you to meet his bandmembers. You knew their names, but not much more than that.

"No.. (y/n) I wont go over this again. You're not coming. End of discussion" Roger snapped at you.

"You're being so unfair! I'm literally not a child, Roger!" you yelled back, trying to match your brothers aggressiveness.

It was a dead end. Roger just walked right out the front door, slamming it behind him. In pure frustration you kicked the door and spun around marching to the kitchen, to fetch a cold glass of water.

"oh.. What's this?" you mumbled to your self as you pulled a glass from the cupboard. A flyer for your brothers concert was laying right there, in front of you on the kitchen table. You squealed and forgot everything about your anger as you ran to your room to change your outfit.

________________

The place was crowded. You had just made your way through the entrance and stumbled in between people to get to the bar. There were no sight of Roger or his band yet, but you could see their instruments where lined up on the stage. You knew, that if Roger saw you he would be furious, yet you were also aware that if you wanted to meet his bandmembers, he would have to know you were there. You quickly got a bartenders attention and ordered at few shots and a sweet drink - a little liquid courage.

Just as you had downed your two shots, the crowd went wild and the band appeared on stage. The singer lead the way, quickly followed by the guitarist, the bassist and lastly your brother came running and a bunch of girls started screaming like maniacs. A slight laughter escaped your lips as you moved away from the bar, walking a little closer to the stage to get a better look at the bandmembers. You held your drink firmly in your hand as you moved up through some of the crowd.

You moved towards the right side of the room. There were something intriguing about the tall guitarist and you really couldn't take your eyes of him. Throughout the concert you found yourself ogling him on multiple occasions. At one point you could've swore you even had eye contact with him.

_______________

The show ended and the crowd went wild and thus was your chance to surprise your brother and meeting the band. You quickly made your way to the bar, disposing of your empty glass. On your way back to the stage, you were stopped by a tall man, which took you by a surprise.

"Hi" he said shyly which surprised you even more.

As you looked up, the tall scary man turned out to be the handsome guitarist that you had been staring at just moments earlier.

"Uh.. Hi" you laughed. "You scared me a little there"

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry. I.. Uh.." he mumbled and rubbed his neck. "I saw that you.. Uh enjoyed the show and that you had been looking quite intensely at me and I just wanted to.." he rambled.

You giggled and moved your hand up to touch his upper arm. "I'm sorry if my staring made you uncomfortable. I'm (Y/N)" you said and offered him your other hand as a greeting. He sent you a friendly smile and shook your hand. There was an unmistakable glimmer in his eye telling you, that he was up to no good.

"I'm Brian. Nice to meet you" he said and gently pulled you to the side of the room.

You followed him as he lead you out of the main room and into the backstage area. Your heart started pounding, this meant that you could run into Roger at any given time and quite honestly, you weren't really ready for that yet.

"Uh, Brian?" "Mhhm?" he said and stopped in his tracks, slowly leading you to the nearest wall, towering over you.

There was something completely irresistible about him. Whether it was the big bouncy curls, the sweat glistening on his skin, his towering height or just the thrill of doing something you knew your brother would hate, you couldn't quite figure out.

You pushed your back against the wall and grabbed his shirt, pulling him as close to you as you could. Your fingers wandered up his chest and gently tugged on his chin, pulling his lower lip a little. "Is this something you do at every show?" you whispered. "You know.. Pulling a lonely girl backstage to give her the time of her life?" you continued and moved your hand to his shoulder.

A slight pink flushed appeared on Brian's cheeks.

"N-no.. No not every show.. Only the ones where someone as stunningly gorgeous as yourself turns up"

You giggled and rose to the tip of your toes.

"How.. Smooth." you whispered. "Kiss me.. Please"

And so he did. He lowered his head a little meeting your lips with his. The kiss started of soft, but that wasn't enough for you. The adrenalin pumped throughout your body and you pulled him in a little closer, deepening the kiss. You opened your mouth a little, running your tongue over his lip, quietly asking for entrance, which he quickly granted you. His hands flew to your hips and you wrapped your hands around his neck. A small whimper left you as he pulled away from you moving his hands from you hips, grapping your hands instead.

"You sure are a fiery little lady, aren't you?" he purred and kissed both of your hands.

"I'll be what ever you want me to be" you purred back and squeezed his hands.

You couldn't quite pinpoint where all that confidence had suddenly sprouted from. Usually you weren't that cocky - definitely not when talking to attractive men. As you had finished your sentence his face completely changed. You had most definitely sparked something in him. He crashed his lips unto yours again this time with more lust and passion than before. His hands found their way to your butt, squeezing it every so lightly. Suddenly it seemed like the mood had changed completely, making this backstage area way to public for what was seemingly on it's way.

"Ugh, Brian get a room!" You froze instantly. That voice couldn't possibly belong to anyone other than your beloved older brother, who clearly hadn't noticed you. "Mind your business, Roger.. Don't you have a kit to pack?"

Brian snapped back before returning his mouth to your skin, gently kissing your neck making you moan ever so slightly.

Brian had only had his head away from yours for seconds. Merely seconds where his big curly hair wasn't covering your head. And those seconds were enough for you to get caught. "(Y/N)!?" Roger asked, anger clearly present in his voice.

You and Brian both turned to face Roger, as you took half a step behind Brian, using him as a human shield. Brian opened his mouth to say something but he was quickly stopped by Roger, that had taken another step closer to you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Roger asked you, gently avoiding the whole make out session that had just happened in front of his very eyes.

"I just.. Uh.." you mumbled. "I wanted to meet your friends" you whined, placing a hand on Brian's back.

"Uh-uh.. And you thought the best was to do so was by practially having sex with them?" Roger continued, moving closer to you.

You stepped away from both him and Brian trying your best to find a way out. "I didn't.. mean to. " you apologized.

"What's going on here?" Brian chimed in, looking very confused.

"Well.." Roger started, folding his arms over his chest. "It seems, that you're making out with my little sister, even though I very clearly told her, that I didn't want her to come to my shows" he said coldly, never once moving his eyes away from you.

"Your sister?!" Brian exclaimed looking slightly scared. You sent him a shy smile, trying to apologize for not telling him. Not that the perfect moment to tell him had really been there.

"Roger please just.. We can talk about this later, please. .. Please" you begged, wanting to explain the situation to Brian. Even though it had started out as an innocent kiss and a way to get backstage, you had actually felt really good when kissing him and you really wanted that feeling to come back. Whether Roger approved of it or not.

"Nu-uh. (Y/N) please just.. Go home. I think you've done more than enough here." You nodded defeated. You stole a quick glance at Brian who sent you an apologetic look. You really wanted more of him. "I.…" you started and sighed heavly. "I'll see you at home, Rog… and hopefully I'll see you around Brian?" you asked knowing full well that you weren't going to get an answer on that, before Roger had rushed you out of the backstage area.

Quickly you ran out of the room, fearing for what might hit you once Roger got back home. You weren't scared of him and he would never do anything to hurt you, but a slight fear ran in your blood.

As you got back to the bigger room you saw Brian's guitar case was standing against Rogers drumkit. You ran to the bar and grabbed a piece of paper. You scribbled your name and number unto it, as well as a small apology and a 'call me, please'. You kissed the note, leaving a trace of your lipstick and went back to the stage, where you quickly opened the guitar case, throwing the note inside.