#circle heads again also wailing i got lazy

[unknownarmageddon]

i’ll tear you limb from limb, or i’ll fall in love

cross belongs to jael peñaloza killer belongs to rahafwabas

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.  

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.  

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.    

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?  

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.3

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

A/N: Third chapter is here! Again, thank you to all those who are supporting the story. Once again, this is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age. Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

“Insane madness of the living can be more, more terrible than the bloody hunger of the undead...”

― Silvia Liam

The rules of hunting down prey are simple. First, you observe to take note of their weakness, then you stalk...waiting for the right opportunity to take your shot. Hunting is more often about a game of time than aim sometimes. You jump too soon and you risk scaring your target to a successful escape, or you do it too late that you let them fully slip through your grasp. Hunting... has always been about perfect timing.

"You already know the rules of the game, right boy?"

The frail form of a seven year old child cowered against the foot of a dead tree, eyes shaking as it regarded the man leering at him. The sky was a deep dark velvet above them, and the only source of light came from the full moon that dipped in and out between the passing clouds. A bell dingled from the tight chain strapped around his left ankle when he moved, the sound causing the smile on the man's face twist into a wicked grin.

The hum of a gun being cocked sent the boy to give a choked sob. He shakily tried to stand up from his spot and pressed his palm against the rough bark of the tree to support himself, his wide eyes set on the looming form that has taken a step closer to where he stood.

"It's the first sturgeon moon tonight, so we are going to change the rules a little bit, okay?" Those words only made the child shake harder, the thin shirt he had now clinging to him like second skin due to the cold sweats gripping him.

"You run. And if I catch you, you die," the man cooed as he craned his face a bit to the side, causing the light from the moon to illuminate his features briefly. He looked handsome, inhuman, like he was one of the fallen souls exiled to earth at the beginning of times.

The man moved the arm holding his hunting gun and used it to lift the chin of the boy still cowering in front of him. He smiled—a smile so beautiful and dangerous it can make angels weep.

"But if you die, then your brothers will be the one running in this forest to take your place. So...make sure I don't catch you, hmm?"

Tears finally streamed down the bruised cheeks of the child as he realized what he was up to tonight. Eyes wide with fear, he pushed himself off the tree he was leaning on and started making a run for it.

He could still hear his words even as he dove deep into the woods, the bell on his feet masking his thundering footsteps.

"Seven bullets! You have one minute to hide, son~!"

Gunshots pierced the night air like a wailing scream.

------

Bang!

Jeno lowered his hunting rifle and let go of his breath slowly. Despite the shadows cast by the towering trees surrounding him, his eyes could still clearly see the slight flailing of the fawn he just shot before it went completely still. Above him, a flock of crows looked down on the fallen prey with their beady eyes, as if gauging the best time to dive for their feast.

He slowly picked himself up from his hiding spot, a wide oak tree with overarching branches that hid him from sight. He's been crouched there for a good half hour or so, just waiting for the fawn to finally circle the area. He's been observing it for the past week or so, taking note of its routes, and today he decided to make the kill.

Unlike other hunters, Jeno prefers the thrill that comes with stalking his prey over simply making a successful game. For him, the fun of hunting is in the process and not in its ending—a kill , after all, means nothing if you didn't work hard for it.

He looked down on the small fawn now as it lay lifeless on the mossy forest ground with its glassy eyes still open. Leaning over, he lightly pressed his hand over it to feel its heartbeat just to check if he killed it properly.

It was so beautiful and graceful just prancing in the forest a few days ago….it would be a shame if it suffers now.

"Hey, you got it?" A voice from the edge of the clearing made him look around. Haechan emerged from between the trees, his own hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Yup. What did you get?"

The other boy lifted a brown sack and gave it a light shake.

"Got three rabbits. I'm too lazy to skin them here so I'll just ask Taeyong-hyung to do it. Want to go back now?"

Jeno turned to look back at the fawn in front of him briefly before finally shaking his head. He didn't really want to go back to the mansion yet, so he decided to just throw an excuse to the other for now.

"You go ahead. I'll just skin it right here," he said casually over his shoulder at his brother. Haechan, too cold and too bored to stay another minute in the humid woods, gave a wave of his hand before turning back. Unlike Jeno, he prefers the comforts and luxuries of the manor over anything else.

"I'll go ahead then. Try to get back before nightfall, the forest can be a dangerous place~" he said in a sing-song voice, knowing full well it was a useless warning he just gave.

Jeno simply ignored him and silently pulled his skinning knife from his belt so he could get to work. Nights in the forest have never scared him, he knew it like the back of his hand.

If anything, it is the creatures there who should be terrified of him.

------

You glanced over at Jisung and Chenle who were currently immersed in their readings over the page you’ve been scanning. The sun is about to set in just a few minutes and you have the last session of the day scheduled for the pair before you could pack up and go home. Your lips slightly quirked into a smile as you watched Jisung lean over slightly into the other to silently ask about something, Chenle looking up from his pages to roll his eyes before patiently answering. The two have such different personalities from each other, which adorably and ironically, makes them work so well together.

If you're going to be honest with yourself now, you'd say it is your time with the two youngest that you enjoy the most as Rosewood's tutor. Chenle and Jisung were withdrawn and shy at first, but the pair slowly started warming up to you as time went by. Maybe it's because they are younger, but you prefer the innocent air around them every time you would have your lessons. Chenle is the chattier and the more confident of the two, but with his help, even the shy Jisung also started lightly joking around with you on his best days.

That's not to say that you hate your time with the rest of the brothers. You've only ever had one session with Mark—which went so well as expected from the eldest—while the rest have always been polite and casual. There isn’t really anything about your job and connection with any of the boys that should put you on edge and yet... you have to admit that there are still those rare moments when you just feel as if something is out of place. You couldn't really place your finger on it, nor have you blatantly caught anything suspicious, but sometimes you just feel odd whenever you are around any of the four middle children. It’s something similar to being watched...like there is an imaginary pair of eyes always pinned to the back of your head, or the ghost feeling of hands hovering around your throat.

Your eyes flickered now to the grand clock on the far side of the room which finally struck five. Closing your own book which you have been scouring over, you called out towards the two who quickly looked up from their work.

"Alright, time's up. Have you answered the first two questions at least?" You asked with a smile. Chenle groaned and pointed at Jisung accusingly.

"I only got three questions because he kept disturbing me, noona."

Jisung frowned and you had to keep your laugh back with how offended he looked.

"Hey, I wasn't disturbing you. I was just asking questions."

"Okay, okay. Don't fight now. Do you want an extension for the chapter quiz? We do have our next lesson the day after tomorrow."

Their faces simultaneously lit up.

"Can we do that?" Chenle asked.

"Yes, but I'll have to leave you the assignment of reading another chapter and finishing the questionnaire for that as well. That'll be your homework, okay?" You tried your best to put on your best impression of a stern look, which only made the two giggle.

"Okay, noona."

"You promise you'll do it?"

Jisung put up his right hand and placed his left one over his heart.

"We promise."

That made you chuckle. "Well then, that will be all for today. I'll see you again tomorrow, okay? I'll have lessons with your brothers but just come to me if you have any questions." You gathered the rest of the papers that you have sprawled on the desk you were using before waving the two goodbye.

You were in the middle of trying to fit in a rather stubborn pile of files on your bag that you didn't really notice the tall figure that entered from the front door. When you finally looked up, it was already too late for you to stop crashing straight first into someone's chest, if not for the strong hands that held you steady. You felt an arm settle on your waist, and another on your back as you almost toppled when you hastily stepped back.

"Oh! I am so sorr—" you looked up with wide eyes to see Jeno looking down on you. Your words died in your throat when your eyes caught the red stain on his neck and you gasped.

"Jeno, what happened?!" Your voice raised in panic as you stared wide eyed at the blood running down the side of his neck. He gave you a slight look of confusion before raising a hand to touch the area you've been staring at.

"Ah… this…"

You didn't wait for him to finish. Quickly, you grabbed his hand and turned on your heels to drag him to the opposite direction. You didn't look back to see his surprised expression, and before he could even say anything, you had already pushed him into one of the expansive bathrooms down the nearest hallway.

"Sit there."

You pushed him urgently on the closed toilet seat before you proceeded to rummage on the hidden compartment behind the mirror that Taeyong showed you before. You quickly grabbed the box of first aid kit there and hastily opened an antiseptic wipe.

"Uhm...noona…"

You didn't pay him any attention, too focused on what you needed to do. You quickly kneeled in front of him so that you were more eye-level with each other before finally pressing the damp wipe against his injury.

"Shh. This might sting a little. We have to see how deep your wound is and stop the bleeding," you said, a small frown creasing your brows as your fingers gently dabbed at his skin. You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn't notice the light in his eyes shift as he looked at you closely. 

His gaze dropped to your slightly parted lips, then at the look of concentration on your features.

Are you...worried about him?

Your frown deepened as you finally managed to wipe most of the blood away from his skin. The antiseptic sheet you were using has already turned dark red from the liquid, but still you haven't—

"It's not my blood," Jeno said plainly, his voice suddenly sounding too close to you. You looked up to him in confusion, and for the first time you realized how close the two of you were. His gaze didn't waver from your face, pinning you into the spot where you are kneeling in front of him.

"Not your…"

"I was hunting. I was skinning the game I caught but my hand slipped and I hit a major vein. This is deer blood."

If your face wasn't burning after realizing how close the two of you were at the moment, it is definitely on fire now. You opened your mouth to say something, then closed it again in embarrassment. Jeno continued staring at you and you watched as his lips ever so slightly curled into a smirk.

That made you suddenly stand up from your crouch. He calmly followed you with his gaze, a mix of curiosity and amusement in his brown eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry. I thought you were injured so I panicked," you stuttered as your eyes fell on the bloody wipe that is still on your hands. You quickly ducked to throw it away just so you could avoid his gaze.

Jeno followed your every move closely before slightly leaning his head to the side. He seems to be mulling over something, face now devoid of any telling emotions.

"Were you concerned about me?" He asked, tone curious. You glanced at him in surprise, stunned that he would ask such a question. It was bad enough that you stumbled over your words when you finally managed a reply.

"Of course I was concerned. Anyone would be."

Jeno slowly stood up from where he sat and for the first time, you realized just how much he towered over you. It didn't help that the two of you were in a much smaller space than usual which sent a wave of claustrophobia to wash you over briefly. You involuntarily took a step back, eyes only high enough to meet the base of his neck.

"Why though?" He asked again, and you could genuinely hear the curiosity in his tone. You frowned. He was asking...as if he isn't used to such a level of care. As if things like this are so foreign to him.

"Because you are my student. And I wouldn't want to see anyone hurt."

For a moment, Jeno didn't say anything else. He simply looked at you while you tried so hard not to flinch under his heavy gaze.

Then, as if a switch had been turned, he took a step to the side to free some space between the two of you. Your eyes shot to his face when he did that, and you were met by his boyish smile that crinkled his eyes into half moons.

That made you blink. You see it on him whenever he is with the rest of his brothers, but it was the first time he ever smiled that way to you.

"Thank you, noona. I appreciate it."

It was as if a blockage in your throat dissolved all of a sudden. You smiled back, a sense of relief overtaking you.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sorry I panicked, too."

"It's cute. Nobody has ever…" he trailed off before shrugging. "I guess, it's because we're all men here. So none of us are used to that kind of care."

You nodded slowly at that. It really must be hard...being in this kind of household. Now that you think about it, the boys are technically orphans.

"Anyway, I have to go. I need to get back before dark. I'm not really a big fan of night drives," you said as you picked up the bag you had haphazardly thrown into the sink in your panic earlier. Jeno simply watched you silently from where he stood.

"Make sure to be careful next time alright? Don't give anyone a heart attack again," you smiled before finally excusing yourself out. He smiled back and gave a nod of goodbye as you closed the door.

Jeno turned to the mirror in front of him and slowly touched the part of his neck where your fingers grazed earlier. It was cold now from the antiseptic you had rubbed, but he could still remember how good the warmth of your touch felt against his skin when you were trying to wash the blood away. He curled his fingers slightly over the area now, leaving half moon marks as his nails dug there.

Oh what he would do to have you touch him again.

-------

"Pretty neat, huh?" You grinned at Jaehyun as he parked the car in front of the manor. You watched as your boyfriend's eyes moved over the impressive facade of the structure in front of him, knowing full well that his architect training is kicking in.

"Not bad. Victorian-era, probably. The stones look old but the place looks pretty well-kept…"

You grinned to yourself now as you leaned back on your seat. Of course you have absolutely no reason to be proud of something you don't own, but you can't help but boast a little at your boyfriend. It is your workplace after all.

Jaehyun turned to his seat now to give you a slightly guilty smile. He sighed before reaching out for your hand.

"Are you sure you will be okay though? I'm sorry about borrowing your car all of a sudden, the timing is just so bad."

You gave his hand a squeeze before patting it with your other. He was supposed to go on a three day business trip away from the city when his car, all of a sudden, just wouldn't start this morning. He wouldn't make it if he waits for the shop to fix it so the both of you decided to just have him use yours for now. At least he has enough time to drive you to work, which is why the two of you now are parked outside the manor, 10 minutes before your first lesson has to start.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make sure to pick up your car later. I'll have the taxi drive me there."

Jaehyun glanced back at the mansion briefly.

"Are you sure you can get a taxi here though? This is pretty far off the main road…"

Well...to be honest, you weren't even really sure about that yourself but he didn't have to worry about it right now. You nodded and reached over for your bag with a smile.

"Yes. Or I'll just ask Taeyong for help if I can't get one. I'm pretty sure they have some taxi companies in contact."

Jaehyun still didn't look convinced but gave you a small nod nevertheless. His eyes were back to studying the house again which made you chuckle.

"Jae, I'll be fine. You have to go now or you'll be late to your conference. Thanks for driving me here," picking up the last of your things, you leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheeks. He responded by pulling you over for a slightly longer kiss when you tried to move away.

"Yah, Jung Jaehyun. We'll both be late if you don't stop," you whispered softly with an amused tone. He laughed before finally letting you pull back.

"Just getting my fill of it since I won't see you in three days. Call me once you get home later, okay?"

"Mmn. Take care, too. Go get that deal closed," you gave him a wink before finally opening the passenger seat. You watched as he finally pulled away from the driveway and waited until he disappeared again on the long winding road before turning towards the manor again. You were almost at the front steps when the doors finally opened, spilling Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin out of them. You frowned slightly as you took notice of the canvases they were carrying as you approached the group.

"Hey...are you going somewhere? Class is about to start." You asked curiously, eyes landing finally on the small leather bag that Renjun was carrying. It seems to be full of art supplies.

"We're doing a free art class today, right noona?" The eldest of the trio asked. You nodded, still a bit confused.

"Renjun suggested we do it in the garden since the weather is nice today," Jaemin finally said. "We think it'll be a nice change from the stuffy rooms inside," he slightly jerked his head back at the wide windows of the manor which are currently shut back with thick curtains. You glanced at them briefly too before nodding slowly in understanding.

"Oh… I mean… It's not a bad idea. We can have the first session outside while the sun is still bearable, I guess."

That made Jaemin, and most especially Renjun smile. The boy can be withdrawn most of the time, but you did notice that he looks happiest whenever you do creative classes.

"Thank you, noona."

"No problem. I'll just put my bag inside and then I'll follow you. Why don't you set up your things first?"

You've taken a couple of steps towards the front door already when Haechan suddenly spoke up.

"Who was with you, noona?"

That froze you on your tracks. Slowly, you turned to face the trio again. They saw Jaehyun drive off?

"Oh, that was my boyfriend. He dropped me off today," you said casually with a smile. Haechan leaned his head a little bit to the side in curiosity.

"But he took your car…"

"Yes, he did. His broke down so he had to borrow mine. He's leaving for a three-day trip so—" you stopped all of a sudden, realizing that you're explaining things too much. There's nothing wrong about what you said but there was still a part of you that made you feel a little...exposed. Jaemin, Haechan, and Renjun, fortunately, didn't seem to notice and continued to politely look at you.

"Anyway, I'll just grab a cab to go home," you continued with a smile. "There are some who stop by here, right?"

"Yes. Or we can just ask Taeyong-hyung to drive you. He is the only one who has a license among us," Jaemin offered with a casual shrug.

"Ah, maybe I'll have to bother him this one time if I can't get a cab," you said with a sheepish smile. "Okay, I do have to bring my things inside. I'll see you."

You have already reached the top of the steps before the double doors when you finally realized something. Quickly you turned to the three boys who were just about to disappear to the side of the house leading to the manicured gardens.

"Wait, where's Jeno?"

It was Jaemin who answered.

"Oh yeah. He can't come. He is on bed rest."

You frowned.

"What happened?"

Haechan snickered which caused Renjun to shoot him a reprimanding look.

"He got into a hunting accident," the boy explained as he barely tried to keep his lips from twitching with amusement. "He was foolish enough to get stabbed in the chest by a stag."

-----

You gave the oak wood door a few light taps before drawing your hand back to yourself. You still weren't sure if this is a good idea, and yet here you are standing outside Jeno's room, the expansive hallway making you feel too small and out of place. This is the first time you've been in this part of the mansion since you only ever roamed the lower floors for your classes, and you couldn't help but feel a little strange at the heaviness of the air clinging around you now.

Maybe it's because it is where the private quarters of the boys are, but the corridor was only slightly illuminated by dimmed lighting from the lamps on the walls. Everything was silent, and for a moment you wondered if you got the wrong door that Taeyong gave directions to when you told him you wanted to check on Jeno. You have already taken a step back and was about to turn away when you heard some rustling from inside the room. It was followed by a voice muffled by the thick wood separating you from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

You froze on your spot for a few seconds before finally managing to shake yourself to open the door before you slowly. Peering around it, the first thing you noticed was how big the room was—it looked more like a smaller section of a house than a private quarters. It was dark, but a quick look at it told you that it was mostly bare if you don't count the essentials, which is a simple desk by the side, a long couch, and, in the middle, a four poster bed.

Your eyes landed on Jeno who was looking at you with equal mild surprise. He was propped against the headboard of his bed, the light from the laptop on his lap illuminating his face. You noticed that he didn't have a shirt on, but most of his skin from the right shoulder down to his chest was covered by bandages.

"Hi," you smiled, suddenly feeling conscious now as you stepped into his room.

"Um. Hi. What are you…"

"I heard that you were injured so I just dropped by to check on you," you quickly answered to diffuse any awkwardness that is in danger of settling between the two of you. Jeno blinked, as if processing what you just said.

"Uh… sorry, I didn't realize that I might be disturbing you. I can also just go back another time and—"

"No," He said all of a sudden before you could excuse yourself. Quickly, he closed his laptop and put it away on his side. "You can stay for a bit."

"Oh...great. I uh…" your eyes roamed around his room once again, hoping to find a chair that is closer to his bed. There was none. You figured the couch was the only place you could go to so you started walking towards it, Jeno's eyes on you.

"You can sit here," he suddenly said and you looked up to see him pointing at the foot of his bed. That made you stop before glancing again at the couch at the farther side of his room, something which he immediately noticed.

"It's too far away. It'll be awkward for us to talk if you sit there,” he said, as if he read your mind. 

That...makes sense. With a slight nod, you closed the distance between you and the bed instead and chose to sit by its far end.

Jeno was back to watching you as you settled down, his expression curious. You softly cleared your throat.

"How are you feeling?"

He glanced down his chest briefly. "Oh, I'm fine. It didn't hurt as much during the weekend, but I was still told to stay in bed. I can't really move that much yet."

"What happened anyway?"

He scratched the back of his head almost sheepishly and looked away.

"I was trying to hunt a deer. I didn't know its mate was just around the area when I approached it so...yeah."

You winced as your eyes fell on his bandaged chest. You know next to nothing about hunting, but you know enough that an angry stag doesn't spell good news for anyone. Things could have been more serious for him.

"Are you sure that you shouldn't be in the hospital though?"

"Yes. We have a private doctor anyway. I just need to make sure I don't move too much to keep my wound from opening. And I also hate hospitals so I prefer to stay here…"

"You have to be more careful next time, okay Jeno? The forest is such a dangerous place…" you sighed before shifting your attention towards the window at the far wall of his room. He only had his curtains partially open but you could still see a sliver of the woods from where you sat.

Something about what you said shifted something in him. You missed it entirely thanks to the shadows from the room's dim lighting that masked his features, but it was there, hiding in plain sight.

"You take care of us so well."

You turned to him again as you heard him whisper something.

"What?"

Jeno simply smiled. He leaned back against the headboard, as if mulling over something.

"Since noona is worried about me, can you help me change my bandages?"

You blinked. That wasn't something you expected him to ask at all. Before, you figured Jeno to be one of the more withdrawn among the brothers, always with this air of intimidation about him, but lately, he has been throwing you off with these kinds of moments. He isn't flirty like Jaemin or sly and playful like Haechan, but he’s just so...direct. Almost pushy, sometimes. 

"I uhm… I don't know. I wouldn't know how to do it, maybe I can call someone and—"

You watched as he already started to undo the bandages on his torso, your eyes growing wide as he started to expose more skin.

"Jeno wait, I think we should call Taeyong for thi—oh my god."

Your words were cut off when he finally let the last of the bandages fall to reveal the cut on his torso. It started from his right chest, a few inches above the collarbone, and ran sideways to the middle where it cut off. Stitches held the skin together, and you could see the darkening sides of the flesh where it broke.

Yet it wasn't only that which caught your attention. Despite the dimness of the room, you could see other marks in his body, old scars that adorned his pale skin here and there. They varied in length and thickness, and you couldn't figure out what might have caused them. Were they from hunting accidents too…?

You immediately turned to look away. You didn't want to seem rude for staring. Jeno, however, seemed unbothered, if not mildly amused. Watching you through hooded eyes, he let you squirm for a little bit first before finally calling for your attention once more.

"Noona."

"Yes?"

"Help me, please?"

The tone he used on you finally made you turn with a slight wince, which only made him chuckle.

"You're not used to seeing injuries?"

"I'm not fond of them. I don't think anyone is."

“So let's get this over with then. I just need you to hold one side of the bandage for me while I wrap it again. It's hard when I do it alone."

You were about to open your mouth to say something again but chose to purse your lips after in the end. With a soft sigh, you finally picked yourself up from your spot by the foot of the bed to move closer to him. Jeno had already uncapped what looked to be a bottle of antiseptic at this point and had started to dab gently at his cut. You tried to watch without wincing too much as he tried to do the job, but it was probably too painful for him to move too much because he was missing a lot of it.

"Hey, just give me that. I'll do it," you asked as you gently took the cotton pad from him. Jeno wordlessly let you take it, eyes closely watching you as you ducked a little to clean his wound. You tried your best to keep your eyes on target, not allowing them to move anywhere else…

"It looks so bad… I'm surprised you can still move…" you whispered, more to yourself than to him as you frowned over it. You completely missed the way the corners of Jeno's lips ever so slightly tilted as your fingers brushed against his skin.

"Your fiance must have never gotten injured before, noona."

Your hand froze at what he said. Slowly, you looked up at him, only to see him smile at you.

"How did you…"

"Oh, Taeyong-hyung told us. He just reminded us to be nice to you or else you might quit. He said you are saving up for your wedding."

You didn't say anything at first after his explanation. There's nothing wrong about it, and it seems very in-character for Taeyong to say that since he seems to be the most worried about the possibility of you quitting. Still, you couldn't help the odd feeling that tugged at your chest, one you tried to shove back as you turned your attention again to what you were doing just so you could escape Jeno's gaze.

"Well… yes. I am saving up for it. But I also enjoy my time here… so far…"

Jeno smiled to himself as he looked down on you, eyes watching your every move.

"We'll behave too, we promise," he said softly that you almost didn't catch it.

"Until then, I'm sure your boyfriend wouldn't mind us borrowing you from him."  

----

"Jisung! Chenle! Don't run too far into the forest, okay?" Taeyong called out to the two boys who have already turned on their tails and have started running towards the woods. You watched as the two laughed and pushed at each other playfully before finally disappearing into the forest edge.

Taeyong sighed beside you and let the hands he had on his hips fall to his sides. You turned to him and he gave you an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry for suddenly asking you to watch over them. I totally forgot that I had to drive the rest to their dentist appointment today," he said with a scratch of his head. You simply shook a hand at him to wave him off.

"Don't worry about it. I don't have any other classes today anyway so I'll just wait here for them. But... uh... are you sure that it is safe for them to play there?"

"Yes. As long as they stay in the right zones. There are parts there where some wild animals might roam around this season but Jisung and Chenle already know that, don't worry. It won't be the first time they'll be going there too. They've been playing there since they were kids."

You nodded slowly, still a little bit unsure as your gaze floated over to the woods once more. If it were you, you wouldn't let them go near it, especially after what happened to Jeno.

"I'll have to go then. I promise I'll be back by 5. Then I can drive you back to town after."

You turned to look at Taeyong once more and gave him a grateful smile. You usually would have declined the offer under normal circumstances, but you honestly think it will be easier and safer for you to just have him take you back later.

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

The other nodded before giving you one last smile. Turning around, you watched him go to the car where Haechan, Renjun, and Jaemin were already waiting. Jeno was still in bed rest, so he is skipping the impromptu trip this time.

You only turned back to look at the woods ahead when you finally saw the black sedan disappear down the road. The forest looked foreboding in front of you, one look at it and you know there is no way you'll venture there in your own free will. With a sigh, you picked up the book you've brought with you and let yourself take a seat by the grass as you wait for Jisung and Chenle to return.

A sudden sharp caw that tore the air made you look up in surprise from the current chapter you were reading. You didn't have any idea how much time had already passed after you lost yourself in your book, but you were surprised to see that the sky had gone red over the horizon as a flock of crows soared from the depths of the forest. You watched as they circled just above the trees before finally disappearing far into the sky. That was when you realized it; it's been a while since Jisung and Chenle left.

With panic slowly creeping into your chest, you glanced at your watch then back at the mansion behind you. Taeyong didn't say anything about a curfew for the two kids, but your own sense told you that the pair should be back before night falls. Your gut told you that you should start looking for them, but the problem is that there is still more than half an hour left before Taeyong said they will return and the only other person left in the manor was Jeno—who can't even get out of bed. 

You swallowed. Before you could make any decision, however, a bone-chilling sound floated into the air that made your blood turn cold. It was faint at first, making you wonder if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you, but then it called out again, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

It was Chenle. Screaming.

You broke into a run without a second thought.

It took you everything you have not to topple over the uneven forest floor as you wove through the trees. You have no idea where you were going, your mind and vision reeling as you tried to follow the voice. Your skirt have caught countless times on shrubberies and wayward tree barks as you tore through the woods but you kept going, not minding the tears on the fabric and the skin of your legs.

"Chenle! Jisung! Where are you!"

You called out desperately when the cries suddenly stopped. You were only barely aware of your heart thundering in your chest and your lungs burning from overexertion.

No. No. Don't stop screaming. I can't find you if you do.

"Chenle! Jisung!" You called out again desperately as you stopped at the edge of what seemed to be a small patch of land that dropped off to a ravine. The trees beyond were denser than the ones at the edge of the forest and the already fading light of the day wasn't helping the thick canopies above you that rained shadows on where you stood. You looked around and swallowed thickly. Something inside of you told you to turn around and run again but you stayed frozen on your spot, waiting for any sound from the kids.

It took you a few more heartbeats to pick up something again. Jisung's voice sounded far off to your right, maybe about 15 meters from where you currently are.

"Noona! Help! Chenle fell down!"

Your adrenaline jumped into action again.

"Jisung?! Jisung! Wait—Is Chenle with you?” A soft voice called out and you breathed in as you recognized the latter's tone. “I'm coming! Don't stop calling for me, okay, so I can find you!"

You were about to turn away from the edge of the steep ravine you were still standing on when you felt your back hit something hard. Before you could even turn around to look at it, however, a blunt force hitting the middle of your shoulder blades sent you toppling forward, straight into the sharp fall beyond.

You screamed, before everything went quiet as your head hit the bedrock below.

---

A.N. GOD THIS WAS SO LONG IM SO GLAD IT IS FINALLY DONE.

Taglist:  @negincho,  @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey​, @aj--7, @pukupukupawpau​, @tomiesgirlfren​, @vsszn

CHAPTER 4

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Okay, so you said I could send an ask for headcanons about the childhoods of some specific merc(s)... I think I would really like to read your headcanons about Soldier’s and Engineer’s childhood :)

Thanks in advance and I hope your well.

Ooooh…I’ve been waiting for this! And thank you for being specific and not just saying “the rest of them.” Sometimes I get overwhelmed with nine specific mercs to write for. Your specifics are much appreciated.

****************

Soldier:

Soldier doesn’t talk very much about his childhood - whether it’s because something happened or he just doesn’t remember it, no one can tell. It’s nowhere in his file, either…he refused to do anything except tell fantastic tales of a fictional youth.

However, in a rare streak of almost lucidity, he spouted off the entirety of his younger years, much to the team’s surprise. Usually, if anyone asked directly, he changed the subject.

But now he described everything in vivid detail. And, with a bit of research from Miss Pauling, everything fell into place.

Apparently he had been born in a small military town in Georgia. His father was overseas, leaving he and his mother alone in their small yellow house.

In order to make ends meet, his mother worked at a nearby factory, mostly leaving Soldier to fend for himself and the house.

“Can you be a big, strong soldier like daddy for me?”

Soldier would always agree, finding his own food, his own entertainment, and his own friends. No matter what happened, he never bothered his mom. If anything, his job was to protect her.

That’s why, when his stomach started hurting and his arms and legs ached, he said nothing about it.

When he forgot the chores he was supposed to do and even the names of his friends, he didn’t bring it up.

When he felt tired all the time and some days could barely get out of bed, he just chalked it up to laziness like his mother did.

It turns out the factory they were next to was polluting the water next to the house with dangerous amounts of lead, which soon overcame Soldier’s immune system of steel.

He could barely remember anything anymore, and he became more and more distraught every day. Sometimes he would forget where he was and run outside, then get lost in the woods, only coming back once he remembered where he was supposed to be.

Soldier began to wear one of his father’s old helmets after his mom commented on his red eyes and the dark circles around them. He didn’t want to worry her. Besides, it helped bring back a few memories if he ever got lost again.

Finally, it got to the point where he didn’t even remember his mother, or his promise to her. He began to wander farther and farther away from home.

One day, he didn’t come back at all.

Out in the world with not a single memory to his name, Soldier wandered far and wide. He usually slept in barns and old, abandoned houses, cut off from most people.

Occasionally, he would find a family that wanted to “raise him as their own,” only to turn him away after finding him too difficult to care for.

He had frequent nightmares, ate little due to his unresolved stomach issues, and could barely walk ten feet without forgetting where he was going.

If he accidentally wandered into the same house twice, he would be chased out with either a broom or a gun - usually the latter.

He became “the demon child” in some counties, and “g*psy kid” in others, due to his long, unkempt hair, hidden eyes, and odd habits.

It even got to the point where Soldier couldn’t sleep on anyone’s property because he would be actively fought off like a wolf or a bear.

His only pleasure was an old movie theater that, as he recovered from his lead poisoning, remembered the location of and frequently snuck into.

The only thing that played were romance movies - which, like many children, Soldier hated - and war movies, which he watched over and over again with starving eyes.

Because of these movies, a single memory from his mother’s house came to him. A woman, tall and muscular from hard labor, giving him a shiny badge to hold, asking him to be a strong soldier like his father.

And thus began his life-long dream of becoming a military officer.

He trained according to what he knew from the films…which was mostly running, doing jumping jacks, and occasionally rolling around in the mud.

This only served to distance him further from his fellow human beings, but he didn’t care. Soldier had a mission, and he was going to do it well.

But the biggest change was his hair.

He had started cutting it off with sharpened rocks, but he was always saving up coins he found for a “proper army cut.”

Finally, he had quite the collection in a dirty mason jar, and marched into the barber shop in his town to ask for a haircut.

The manager was appalled, and at first refused, but Soldier stood his ground.

“Civilian, I’ll have you know that by denying a soldier with a haircut, you are denying America one of its best fighters! I can’t curdle the enemy’s blood looking like a hippie!”

After a short yelling match that, of course, Soldier won, the manager decided it would be in his best interest to comply.

He walked out of that shop with no hair on his head, but a huge grin on his face. Next stop, the ranks.

Soldier went from draft office to draft office, applying for and being denied entrance to the army for his obvious lack of mental stability.

This is when the personal retelling ended, since Soldier became very upset by the memory of his recruitment failures, but Miss Pauling concluded that he just bounced from state to state until Mann Co. found him, quote, “sitting in an alleyway, eating army draft paperwork while sobbing uncontrollably.”

Engineer:

Engineer also never really talks about his childhood, but both Medic and Spy (Spy knows everything about everyone on the team) know that’s for a good reason.

He grew up in a trailer community near an almost ghost town in Texas.

His father was an abusive car mechanic with a mean streak a mile wide and a shop full of failed inventions. His mother wasn’t any better - she was bitter and reclusive, only really coming out of her room to pick a fight with her husband.

However, what Engie lacked in family, he more than made up for in friends.

He had a rag-tag, Rugrats-esque team of pals from all walks of life: Rhapsody, the daughter of a struggling porn star; Tom, the son of two farmers wiped out by blight; Cici, an adopted girl that could barely walk into her trailer without a black eye and a string of slurs; Quinn, the nervous child of a single mother that serves as guidance to the other kids; And Fred, who didn’t seem to have any family, but had become a greaser big brother to all of them.

Together, they explored the desert near the trailer park, pooled their resources to feed and support each other, and used their individual strengths to get through each day.

Engineer, whom everyone affectionately called “Big Dell,” snuck parts from his dad’s workshop for his own creations.

By the time he was twelve, he could make a small, running engine for the soapbox cars his friends frequently raced.

No toy, piece of clothing, glasses, or tool was out of his line of expertise.

One day, though, upon finding that some of his parts were missing, Engineer’s dad gave him a terrible beating that broke a few of his fingers and left a huge gash near his eye.

Since then, he refused to fix, make, or even touch a tool.

He wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, but they could make a pretty good guess, since they knew where the scraps and parts had come from.

The whole group was furious with Engineer’s dad - their Big Dell was funny, smart, and was more loving than every family member they had combined. Even Quinn was red in the face.

They wanted to break into his dad’s workshop and destroy all of his inventions, just to teach him a lesson, but they knew Engineer would take the fall for it.

Instead, they rummaged through trash cans, searched their toy chests, and looked under their trailers to find things Engineer could use.

They waited until his birthday to unveil the massive pile of supplies they had stowed away.

Engineer immediately dropped to his knees and began to cry, and everyone else dogpiled him for a huge hug.

As the creme de la creme, they gave him a pair of welding goggles - the same welding goggles he wears to this day, having modified them so they still fit his growing body.

With his healed fingers and renewed spirit, he made each of them a gift: a toy car for Rhapsody, a skull ring for Fred, a full set of candle wax crayons for Cici, a chewable necklace for Quinn so they wouldn’t chew on their collar, and a mini-planter for Tom.

But Engineer was given the greatest gift - confidence in his own abilities and that he can be and was appreciated for more than his services.

This gave him the drive to build bigger and better things, which his friends happily assisted in creating.

Engie’s best memories are with that motley crew of scrawny, beaten-up kids.

But, as he became a teenager, the abuse grew worse by the day.

He was often kept in his dad’s garage to fix cars in sweltering heat and with nothing to show for his work except threats of what would happen if a customer complained.

His mother finally grew bitter enough to pick on him, wondering aloud and pointedly if she had made a mistake by having him, then immediately contradict herself by wailing in his arms about how she’s the most awful mother in the world, and how she would be gone soon, and then nobody would have to deal with her anymore.

Engie grew more and more distant from his friends as they either moved out, ran away, or, in Rhapsody’s case, died.

He thought of just shutting the garage door and turning on a car a couple times, but he would always return to his memories of the hidden cave of goodies his friends had collected or the many inventions they had helped him build.

It just wasn’t worth it.

On a night when his depression and self-doubt was especially bad, he decided to build a personal invention for the first time in years - a small, robotic chicken made out of bent gears and empty oil cans.

He worked on it for a few weeks, but made the mistake of leaving it on a work table once it was finished.

Engie came to work the next morning with his dad ready to chew him out. But, before any finger could be lifted against his son, he was interrupted by a sweet older couple that was having their tires replaced.

“Now, Ethan, ain’t that just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Hm?”

“That there chicken statue over there! It looks like it could very well get up and start peckin’ for worms, don’tcha think?”

Engie looked at the couple, then at his dad, then at his chicken. He slowly lifted it from the table and turned the key.

It started to slowly lean forward, then took a few steps on it’s long, spring-loaded legs. The neck went down, and the chicken’s rusty beak began to scrape at the pavement.

Now he had the husband’s attention.

“Didja build that yourself, son, or did your daddy help ya?”

Engineer looked at his dad for a split second before answering.

“My own sweat ‘n blood, sir. My daddy says I should stop wastin’ time on ugly thing-a-ma-jigs an’ put my hands to somethin’ worth doin’.”

The man smiled. “Well, this ‘ugly thing-a-ma-jig’ shows real skill. We could use somebody like you, once we train you up a bit.”

“Now hold on a damn - !” his father interjected, but was silenced with a cold stare.

“We’ll put ya through a state-of-the-art school, then put ya straight inta the work force. You can build whatever you like…and you’ll have a lot better materials than rusty tin. Whaddaya say, son?”

Engineer just nodded, and the man grabbed his hand and shook it.

“We’ll keep in touch.”

Engineer left that trailer park at age seventeen, leaving his fuming father and drunken mother behind.

He only stopped to visit Rhapsody’s grave before embarking on his new life.

There is still a stone plate with a message carved into it next to the headstone. If you brush off the leaves and dig out the moss, you can see Engie’s parting words:

“A friendship with you and the rest of the gang is the greatest thing I ever built. -Big Dell”

[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 11)

Previously on LBitR...

Lena is completely mortified, and untangles herself from Kara with a swift jump backwards with far more force than is perhaps warranted to push away a powerless Kryptonian.

“Lena?” Kara says, looking confused as Lena recoils as if she has been burned, eyes hurt. Lena takes another step away.

“Sorry,” Lena gasps out, hating how small and hoarse and weak her voice sounds. “I’m just gonna--I’m OK. I just need--” she walks backwards until she collides with the door, and immediately starts fumbling for the handle, taking long, miserable seconds to locate it. “I just need some air.”

Kara opens her mouth to say something, already taking a step in her direction, but Lena doesn’t give her the chance--she’s already bolting out of the room and slamming the door behind her, practically stumbling onto the motel’s nearly deserted car park.

She knows Alex will stop Kara from following after her, and for the moment, she is incredibly grateful for that--she doesn’t think she’ll survive another breakdown in Kara’s presence.

Lena sinks to plonk rather ungracefully right on the curb, between their Jeep and Alex’s atrociously parked motorcycle. Lena wants to go away, to put some distance between herself and the Danvers sisters, but she has nowhere to go, so she just rests her head on her knees and curls tight into herself.

She breathes in, deep and as slow as she can, and then out, once, twice, again and again. Lena hates feeling this weak, this helpless. Her mind is all she has, and if she can’t control her own thoughts, her own memories, then Lena’s got absolutely nothing left. Something is terrifyingly wrong with her--she knows it, can feel it so deeply and keenly in her bones, in her own subconscious.

Lena sits at the curb for quite some time, distracting herself by watching the cars speeding down the road from the space between her knees; fixates on the hum of the ice machine right behind her, and times her breaths to the slow, lazy flickering of the word VACANCY in a not-so-bright yellow neon.

The more she tries to think back to the Kryptonite incident--to place herself in the event, to remember what happened when and where--the more her brain hurts. It’s almost a physical pain, like her thoughts are loose cogs rattling around, bouncing and denting her skull. Her thoughts feel physically heavy, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can carry them. 

She hears Kara and Alex talking in the room--their voices are muted, and Lena can’t quite make out what they’re saying, though she doesn’t really try. Instead, she focuses on other sounds--car doors slamming, an engine backfiring, and just. Breathes.

The sun is close to setting when she hears the door to their room opening--she doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s Kara approaching with tentative steps. Kara’s red converse--stained with chocolate ice-cream--come into her field of view momentarily, before the blonde plops down next to her with a world-weary sigh.

“Turns out, bees like chocolate ice-cream,” she says matter-of-factly. “I dropped some on my shirt earlier and they were really after me. I had no idea bee stings hurt that bad!”

It’s clearly meant to humour Lena, and it works, somewhat. She lets out a little half-laugh, but the image of Kara actually feeling pain from something as innocuous as bees strikes an altogether different chord.

“So,” Kara continues, lightly bumping Lena’s shoulder with her own. “You good? You’ve been out here a while.”

Lena wants to say that no, she is very, very much nowhere near ‘good’ right now--she’s afraid she’s starting to lose her goddamn mind and she has no idea how to stop it, how to get back in control.

“I’m fine,”she says instead, looking down at the pavement between her knees, studying the fissures on the concrete.

To her credit, it doesn’t look like Kara believes her at all; but, also to her credit (not to mention Lena’s immense relief and gratitude) she doesn’t push the issue either.

“Alex was saying you figured out what’s wrong with me.”

Kara’s voice is nonchalant, a little forcibly disinterested, maybe, and she punctuates her question with an idle pull of the stubborn little weeds that managed to sprout from the cracks in the pavement. She tears at the leaves slowly, and for a moment all Lena can sense besides Kara’s presence (and her ill-concealed curiosity) is the sound of ripping leaves and the faint smell of freshly cut grass.

“Lena?” Kara prods gently.

“Alex didn’t tell you?”

Kara shrugs, looking at the little mound of leaves she’s torn, piled neatly on her thigh. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

Lena nods. “Yeah,” she confirms with a deep exhale. “I figured it out.”

Lena doesn’t need to look at Kara to know that she is smiling from ear-to-ear. It’s like she can feel the brightness of that grin the same way she feels the warmth of sunlight.

“Yes! That’s awesome, Lena!” Kara quips happily, nudging her shoulder again. “How do we fix it?”

“It’s actually quite simple,” Lena says, glad to have the opportunity to make her errant brain focus on something else. She’s already drawing up schematics and working through formulas in her head--she can’t wait until she has the proper equipment to actually work on it and distract herself from whatever spiral her mind’s sinking into.

“The Kryptonite bonded with some of your blood cells--well, traces of it did, anyway.” She explains. “We basically just have to figure out a way to filter them out; then you’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great news!” Kara laughs, hands clapping together in sheer excitement. “Rao, thank you, Lena.”

It’s the sheer sincerity in Kara’s tone that breaks her.

Lena feels the sob bubbling up her chest and her throat, but it wrenches its way out before she can even think about stopping it--her chest feels tight, and her eyes are burning, and withing seconds she’s sobbing in earnest, trembling and biting at her sleeve so she doesn’t wail like a child in this parking lot.

Kara, blessedly, doesn’t say anything at all. While Lena hugs her own knees to her chest, hides her face in her arms, Kara merely sits there, occasionally rubbing soothing circles on her back as Lena cries herself hoarse.

She cries until she’s spent, until she’s empty--of tears, of feelings, of thoughts in general. Her eyes are stinging and her cheeks are wet with tears, and Lena none-too-gently wipes at her face with her sodden sleeve, sniffling and trying to compose herself as Kara remains silent.

Without a word, Kara reaches under Lena’s chin and turns her head so their gazes meet. She looks blurry to Lena through the film of tears still clinging to her eyes, but the blonde merely clicks her tongue and wipes at a few of her errant tears with her thumb.

“You shouldn’t thank me,” Lena says through a shiver once her sobs subside; Kara wipes at her fresh tears slowly and tenderly, and Lena doesn’t feel like she deserves this gentleness. “You shouldn’t thank me, you shouldn’t comfort me. I’m the reason we’re in this mess.”

“Maybe you are,” Kara says, though her tone is gentle. “But so am I.”

Lena snorts--it’s inelegant and a little ridiculous, but she can’t help it, and she’s not feeling particularly elegant at the moment. “I’m the one who shot you full of Kryptonite,” she points out.

Kara sighs. “And you’re the one taking it out of me. That’s that.”

“Kara... it’s not that simple,” Lena whispers. She knows she sounds defeated, but that is exactly how she feels. She wishes it could be that simple. She wishes they could erase everything and start over, or maybe never start at all and save themselves the heartbreak.

Kara shrugs. “Maybe not,” she concedes, hand returning to rub circles at Lena’s back. “But right now, it has to be. I need you, Lena--not just to get this Kryptonite out of me and to help me punch your brother into the sun, but I want--I need my best friend back. I need you.”

Lena wants to ask how on Earth Kara is able to make it that simple. She wants to point out that there is simply too much between them--too much they haven’t discussed, too many likes, too many accusations... there was so much anger and distrust between them, and now... well.

Lena’s running. Kara’s powerless. They have nothing left to lose. Except, maybe, each other. That thought is incredibly depressing, but, inexplicably, it makes Lena break into a shy smile--her lips tug upwards almost of their own volition.

Kara notices her tentative grin, and responds by taking Lena’s hands, hooking their pinkies together over that cracked curbside. The gesture has the same effect to Lena as one of her sunshine-warm hugs--it envelops her entirely, calms her like a soothing balm.

Lena’s whisper is soft, but she knows the Kryptonian doesn’t need her super hearing to hear it.

“I need you, too.”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

<< Previous || Next >>

[bts-hyperfixation]

Play time - kinktober day 8

OT7 - o r gy

Smut 18+

Contains member on member and anaI

The boys hadn’t been back in the dorm five seconds before they started looking for you. You’d decided to stay in the dorm while they were away, so you still felt close to them. Yoongi had texted you as soon as they landed with an ETA and the promise of presents. Your heart fluttered at the thought of seeing your boys again, but it didn’t stop your mischievous side from immediately searching for a hiding place. You were never one to make things too easy for them.

You found a small hideaway at the back of Jungkook’s closet and pulled a box in front of the entrance to obscure you further. When you heard the door open you sent the first hint to the group chat.

Y/N: I’m hidden somewhere cosy (emoji) the first one to find me can have me all night.

JK: Anymore hints for finding you?

KTH: or do you just want us to tear the whole place apart… because I will

Y/N: See what you can find and maybe I’ll send more if I get bored

You put your phone down and listen for the boys’ whereabouts. Knowing them, they’ve probably already split up, there are no friends in competition. You hear someone enter Jungkook’s bedroom, so you squish yourself closer to the wall. You can just about make out the maknae’s profile through the small gap you’d left. He places his bag on the bed and glances around the room. For someone with so much talent, he really is terrible at treasure hunts. After he leaves, you send another hint.

Y/N: You guys have a great laundry detergent, smells so fresh

KSJ: Laundry room?

MYG: Maybe? I don’t know where there would be a hiding place in there though.

The search continued, and you sat for another 10 minutes, getting a little bored with the game.

Y/N: (Bunny emoji)

PJM: ARE YOU IN JK’S ROOM???

KNJ: HE TOLD US HE CHECKED THERE

JK: I did…

It’s not long before you hear seven pairs of footsteps heading towards the room. There is a small commotion as each of the tries to enter the room first.

“It’s my room” Jungkook whines as his hyungs push him out of the way.

“You lost your chance when you came in here the first time” Yoongi countered

“Move I should get to go first… I’m the oldest” by the sound of his voice, Jin had puffed himself up ready to take on anyone that disrespected him… of course this led to laughing from the other members. He may be the eldest, but he is by far the least threatening. You can’t help giggling at the conversation. They hear the sound and stop arguing immediately, heads snapping in the direction of the closet. You held your breath hoping they would go back to arguing, you may be getting a little bored, but you really hated to lose. No such luck. The boys made their way into the room, suddenly becoming one cohesive group again. Namjoon is the one to remove the makeshift box door you had pulled in front of your hidey hole.

Being met by his amazing dimples did help soothe the burn of making such a silly mistake and letting yourself be revealed. He offered you his hand and helped you out of the hiding spot before pulling you into the tightest hug he could manage. Soon you were smothered by all the boys, struggling to breath, but also struggling to care as you relaxed into their touch. This world tour had been their longest yet. After a short while they released you and you took in their appearances. Longer hair and tired eyes, but still very much as handsome as when they left.

“So does Namjoon get me? Technically he did find me” you tease walking your fingers up the leader’s chest. The boys around you letting out incredulous groans.

“That’s not fair, we all found you together, he just moved the box!” Jimin whined wrapping his arms around your waist, his way of protesting your advances on his hyung.

“Well then what do you suggest? Want to share?” each of the boys looked at each other in turn and nodded. They often shared you between them, after all they loved each other just as much, but it was very rare for all seven to be with you at the same time. They liked to make sure you were always comfortable. Right now though, all any of you wanted was to feel each other’s skin.

Jimin’s hands move to the hem of your shirt, playing with the fabric and exposing a slither of your stomach to the other boys. Hoseok is on his knees in front of you instantly, licking a line across your newly exposed skin. His fingers hook around your belt loops and he shuffles your jeans down your legs, just as Jimin pulls you shirt over your head. The remaining five watch you closely. Their eyes graze up your body taking in the new lingerie you’d bought for their return. The cute bralette and bikini set did wonders for you. Jimin’s hands find their way to your covered breasts, rubbing your nipples through the sheer fabric making you lean back into his chest and let out a sigh of pleasure. Hoseok, never one to be outdone, takes this opportunity to sharply bite into the flesh of your thigh.

Clearly the sight had been too much for some of the boys. Taehyung and Namjoon were together in a similarly compromising position, Tae’s sweats around his ankles as Joonie rubbed at the younger boy’s member through his boxers. You let yourself focus on the two of them. The sight has you so aroused, you can feel your core dripping already. Hoseok chooses this moment to run a finger along the middle of your panties.

“So wet already?” Hoseok taunts “Did you really miss us that much?” you fidget at the sensation and nod sheepishly, all eyes on you suddenly making you shy. Hoseok chuckles a little then goes back to running his tongue along your thighs, teasing you softly. Every time he got close to your underwear he would pull away and start a similar trail up your other leg.

“Fuck this” Jungkook’s curse is the only warning you get before you are thrown over his shoulder and carried out into the main part of his bedroom. He carefully lays you down on the mattress before climbing on top of you. His lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, months of pent up need and want manifesting in this one action. It doesn’t take long until the two of you are broken apart by a slightly disgruntled Yoongi. the older member reprimands the maknae for taking you away. You giggle as he helps JK strip and decides on his punishment. Of course, the youngest is all too eager to please, he drops to his knees mouth wide and ready to be abused. Yoongi unbuckles his pants and places his dick on Jungkook’s waiting tongue. Without hesitation Jungkook deep throats his hyung. The usually stoic rapper lets out a scandalous wail.

In the meantime, Jin has made his way to you, sitting up on the pillows. He pulls you so you are sat between his legs and signals for you to remove your panties. You oblige and throw the offending article on to the floor. His long fingers trail down your sides and find their way to your clit, he rubs the sensitive nub in lazy circles as the two of you watch Jungkook’s punishment, although from this angle it definitely looks like more of a treat. The sensation made you wriggle, causing pleasure but not enough to help you get anywhere.

“What’s wrong baby?” Jin’s lips graze your ears as he speaks. You whine a little in response hoping he would get the message. “Words babygirl… I need your words” you take a deep breath before you speak

“I need you to move faster” You had never been good at vocalising what you wanted from a lover. A fatal flaw really, it had often left you unsatisfied before you found the band. Instantly his fingers build speed. Figures of 8 drawn in your most sensitive area, the exhilaration almost proving too much for you. If that hadn’t been enough what came next certainly helped. Your eyes were scrunched closed trying to focus on the feeling Jin was giving you, when his expert fingers were joined by an equally talented tongue. You opened one eye and found Taehyung staring back up at you. His deep brown eyes filled with desire as he lapped up the juices that had been flowing freely onto the sheets below you. You’re orgasm hit quickly with the new addition. Both boys continuing until they were sure you had come back down, the stimulation almost proving too much as you whimpered. Taehyung kissed his way up your body. You expected him to finish his trail with your lips but instead he aims around you to access Jin. You’re left sandwiched between the two men as they shared the taste of you in a deep kiss.

You glance passed them to watch the show Jungkook and Yoongi were still giving. The sight calls to you and you crawl out from under Taehyung. Positioning yourself behind the elder, you take the opportunity to part his cheeks and run your tongue along his entrance. The action shocks him, forcing him to lose the control he had. Hot cum shoots down JK's unsuspecting throat. The black haired boy chokes at the unexpected sensation but does his best to swallow what he is given. Yoongi pets his head, praising him, before turning to glare at you. A sheepish grin spreads across your face as you shrug innocently at him.

Unfortunately, the domineering rapper doesn’t fall for your feigned innocence. Instead, pulling you up from your knees and grabbing your hair at the nape of your neck.

“That wasn’t nice y/n, poor Kookie could’ve gotten hurt.” His face is millimetres from yours. You can feel his lips graze against yours as he speaks

“I'm sorry” your eyes are on the ground, an effort to suppress the shit-eating grin fighting it’s way on to your face. The pale boy uses his leverage to force you back on to the bed. You find yourself lying with your head on Namjoon’s toned thigh, your mouth now in the perfect place to lick at his hardened member. You stick out your tongue and try to lick at the tantalising treat that had been placed in front of you. Just before you can wrap your mouth around it, Joon pulls it from your reach.

“I believe you’re in trouble baby... Naughty girls dont get what they want” Joon’s eyes are filled with mischievous malice. You were too busy having a staring contest with the leader to notice the punishment Yoongi was preparing for you. That is until the chilly sensation of lube makes an appearance in between your butt cheeks. Suga laughs as you jump in surprise, coating his finger in the liquid before pressing his way into your back entrance. You squeak at the intrusion and the tag-teaming rapline just laugh. Namjoon takes this opportunity to let his dick fall back within your reach and You lap at it hungrily. Just when you get used to the stretch of one finger Yoongi adds one more, prepping you, he repeats this process until he decides you've had enough foreplay. He summons Jungkook to take his places, first rubbing a generous amount of lube on his lovers cock. Jungkook lines himself up and pushes deep inside your ass. You groan around Namjoon’s dick making him quiver at the added pleasure.

Jk waits until he feels you relax to start moving, placing your legs over his shoulders to gain better access. Neither boy was able to last very long due to the pent up energy they had left over from tour. Namjoon came first, coming all over your face. There’s nothing that boy likes more than to see you wearing him. Jungkook sees his hyung's seed dripping from your chin as he opened his previously squeezed eyes. It is enough to send him over his edge. He pulls out of you and aims his cum to mix in the same place. The maknae would take any excuse he could to see you covered in multiple members cum.

Jimin took this opportunity to crawl on the bed next to you, running his tongue through the puddle on the side of your face. He hungrily lapped the remains of the cum from your face before kissing you deeply dragging you away from Namjoon in the process. The middle member let out a whine in protest until Jungkook filled the newly vacated space idly tracing patterns on Joon's stomach as they both recovered from their highs. The two were notoriously needy after their orgasms.

Jimin moved you so you were straddling him, his hard tip pressed into your opening, waiting. Waiting for you to lower yourself down into his lap properly. You take an agonizingly long time to slide down his full length, letting out a long moan as you did so. You slowly bounce yourself up and down, winding him up, wondering how long it would take for him to flip you over and take you as hard and fast as he could. The man was not known for his sexual patience.

Just as you thought, the smaller man can’t wait long before you are manoeuvred on to your hands and knees. Your met with the sight of Hobi's dick stood to full attention in front of you. Clear that the two mean to take you together you open your mouth ready and willing. The two thrust in tandem, in, out, in, out. The speed increasing gradually as both chase their orgasms. You find yourself also nearing your second finish just as a new pair of hands find their way to your clit. Taehyung appears from underneath you rubbing at your clit fiercely, to a point where it’s almost painful. Almost. Your second orgasm causes both your pussy and throat to spasm, finishing both men off in one quick motion. The seven of you are panting and sweaty, collapsed in cuddly heaps on the large bed.

“So how was tour? You ask after catching your breath

Kinktober

Masterlist

Please let me know what you think or if you have any requests for the last 6 fics here

[tickly-trashcan]

Bonsai {AkiRai}

A/N: using a gif cuz im lazy BUT i needed to get my emotions out because these two have been giving me the biggest brainrot lately and I cannot stress enough just how much i love them. I BEG if you havent watched the show yet you should definitely check it out, it’s only 12 episodes but it’ll get you in the feels. anyway i’ve talked long enough, hope you guys enjoy this one!

Summary: Akihito has been put in charge of taking care of Mirai’s bonsais. He fails to properly take care of them, ruining all of Mirai’s hard work. How will she get her revenge?

Word Count: 1.6k (under the cut)

“You’re so unpleasant!” Mirai wailed, storming out of the literary clubs room. Akihito ran after her, calling her name.

“Kuriyama, I’m sorry! You know I’m not good with plants!”

Mirai had been sick for the past week and away from school, so her bonsai in the literary clubs room had been left in the care of Akihito. Akihito had been left with minimal instruction due to Mirai being the one who normally takes care of the plants being sick, Mitsuki being absolutely no help, and Hiroomi being too interested in Akihito’s underarms to assist.

So, as a result, he had over groomed, over watered, and just overall ruined Mirai’s bonsai that she had spent months taking care of and making sure were in top condition. She had also spent most of her rent money on them in the first place, and she was more than upset knowing that she would have to buy more now.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Kanbara!” She whined, tears burning in her eyes as she ran up to the rooftop, the place where she had first met Akihito…

It seemed like so long ago, when Akihito had first seen Mirai standing on the rooftop. He had predicted wrong what she was planning, but still he ran up to the bespectacled beauty to try and talk her out of it.

“Someone who looks as good in glasses as you simply must not die!” He had yelled, fists clenched in determination as he watched the strawberry-blonde turn her head.

“How unpleasant,” She had muttered dryly, jumping towards Akihito. Before he could even react, he felt something pierce his chest, and when he looked down there was a sword made of blood stabbing him.

He felt pain searing through his chest, but he still managed to will himself to speak, clenching the sword with one hand.

“Can you do something about this sword, please?” He asked, a small grin on his face.

Mirai had looked at him with a mixture of shock and horror as the immortal boy only chuckled to try and off-set the pain. Yes, that had been how they met, and slowly they had managed to become friends, and now they were something even more.

Mirai shoved open the door to the rooftop, holding it shut behind her as Akihito tried to force it open.

“Please, Kuriyama, I’m really sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise!”

“You won’t do it again because I’m never speaking to you again! Never ever ever!”

Akihito managed to push the door open and squeezed through onto the rooftop, Mirai already running away from him again. Akihito grabbed her wrist and held on as she tugged, trying to escape him as he begged for her forgiveness.

“I’ll get you new bonsai, then we can raise them together!”

“I don’t want to raise anything with you, Plant-Killer! You murdered Risa and Kenichiro!”

“You named your bonsai?!”

Mirai finally shook her wrist free of Akihito and pushed him, knocking him over. As he fell backwards he grabbed onto her again, pulling her down with him.

They fell down, Mirai on top of Akihito as she immediately sat up, staring at him angrily.

“How unpleasant!” She wailed again, her signature catchphrase having been stated many times in the literary club already. Akihito sighed, rubbing his now sore head as he was about to speak another apology to her, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a surprised yelp.

Mirai angrily dug her fingers into Akihito’s sides, scribbling around as he threw his head back, laughing loudly as she attacked him.

“K-Kuriyahahahahama! Dohohon’t! I said I was sorrehehehehe!”

“Save your apologies, Plant-Killer! They mean nothing to me!” She yelled over Akihito’s growing laughter as she now dug into his ribs, rubbing her knuckles in them in the way she knew drove him absolutely crazy.

He squirmed beneath her, squeezing his arms against his sides in an attempt to squash the sensations, but only ended up trapping Mirai’s hands in one of his more sensitive spots. He was smiling widely as laughter poured from his lips, panicked and loud.

Mirai continued to pout as she tickled poor Akihito, her anger far from vanished as Akihito cackled beneath her, squirming to try and get out of her grip. He threw his head back and shook it around, kicking his legs and digging his heels into the ground as she continued to messily scribble along his ribs, creeping up closer to his upper ribs as Akihito squeaked.

“Kuriyama! Not thehehehere!”

“You deserve it and you know it!” Mirai exclaimed indignantly, digging her hands under Akihito’s arms, making him screech unflatteringly as he squeezed his arms tighter to his sides, trying to block out the sensations but only managing to trap Mirai’s hands in his worst spot.

“StahahaHAHAHAP! Not thehehehehere, plehehehease!!”

“You’re so unpleasant!” Mirai blubbered, her voice breaking. Akihito was too busy laughing his head off to try and comfort her, but he desperately wanted to. He knew how upset she was, all he wanted to do was to tell her that he was going to make it up to her, but with her currently tickling the living hell out of him, he wasn’t able to do much.

It wasn’t like tickling was new in their relationship. Ever since Mirai had found out the other part of the reason why Hiroomi always stuck his hands under Akihito’s arms, she had always used it when she wanted to mess with Akihito. 

That said, Akihito had recently discovered that Mirai was just as ticklish as he was, and it had helped him get out of certain situations with just a few pokes and an exclamation of “How unpleasant!”

With a ridiculous amount of willpower, Akihito managed to move his arms from his sides, flinching a few times as they desperately wanted to clamp back every time Mirai scribbled harder or delicately pinched the sensitive flesh. He reached up and grabbed onto Mirai’s sides, making her squeak. Still laughing, Akihito squeezed his hands, successfully making giggles pour from Mirai’s lips.

She retracted her hands from his body and used them to try and pull his hands off of her own, squealing as she turned from side to side, Akihito sitting up after catching his breath.

“Kaha - Kanbara! You’re beheheing-”

“What? Unpleasant? Well, I’m gonna keep being unpleasant until you forgive me,” He said, a small smirk on his face. He rubbed his thumbs into her hipbone, making her squeak and double over with high-pitched, girlish laughter.

“Hehehehe! Plahahahant-Killer!” She repeated, and Akihito only chuckled, making her whine.

“Dohohon’t laugh at me!” She howled, throwing her head back when Akihito started to scribble his fingers over her tummy, spidering over the sensitive torso.

“Forgive me, Kuriyama~?” He said in a whiny tone, only making Mirai giggle more at his antics. She laughed and shot her hands back at Akihito, tickling under his arms again as he choked on a laugh, crumpling forward slightly and squirming as laughter started to spill once more from his own lips.

“I’ll nehehehever forgive youuuu!” She declared, laughing brightly like a small child as Akihito laughed with her, creeping his fingers up to her lower ribs where he knew he would get a good reaction. Mirai jerked, more bubbly laughter filling the air around them as her own tickling on Akihito weakened, her upper arms now clamped to her sides, which made it difficult to tickle Akihito.

“Juhuhust say it!” Akihito laughed, and Mirai shook her head. Akihito began to knead her lower rib cage, making her positively squeal as she fell forward, leaning against Akihito as she squirmed madly, pulling her hands away from Akihito again to try and keep him from tickling her.

Akihito panted as he continued to knead her ribcage, rubbing his thumb in circles as her laughter grew in volume and pitch. She wasn’t expecting the tables to have turned as they did, but she probably shouldn’t have expected any less of the half-youmu who was currently tickling her to pieces.

“Alrihihihight! I f-forgive yohohohou!” She finally exclaimed, having had enough of the tickles on her ribs. Akihito stopped, smiling softly at her.

“H-How unpleasant,” She said quietly, and squeaked when she felt another poke at her side.

“Let’s not look at it in a negative way, now you can get some new bonsai and we can raise them together,” Akihito offered, and Mirai blushed, turning her head as she took off her glasses to clean them, a nervous habit of hers.

“It’s easy for you to look at it in a positive light, Plant-Killer,” She huffed, and Akihito sighed, though he couldn’t fight back the amused grin on his face.

“Is that my new name now?”

“Yes.”

Akihito chuckled softly, watching as Mirai put her glasses back on and adjusted them with her thumb. Akihito shyly pecked her cheek when she finished adjusting her glasses, making her face heat up as she sputtered.

“Y-Y-You! Don’t do that, meanie!” She whined, pounding her fists against Akihito’s chest as he laughed.

“Alright, I won’t,” He said, a lilt in his tone that made Mirai suspicious of him even more. “Can you get off of me though? We can go get more bonsai now if you want.”

Mirai quickly got off of Akihito, brushing herself off as he helped himself up, rubbing the back of his head again that was still somewhat sore from the previous fall. He reached his hand out to Mirai, who looked at him hesitantly. He smiled gently at her, the smile that he knew she would never be able to refuse, and she took his hand.

“Do I get to name one of the bonsai since we’re gonna be raising them together?”

“S-Stop making it sound like we’re parents! And no, they’re my bonsai so I get to name them,” Mirai huffed, and Akihito snickered.

“Our bonsai.”

[glamrockmonarch]

Honeypie: Rufus Taylor Fluff

From the Miscellaneous Masterlist, following Keep Me.

Requested: YES.

Pairing: Rufus Taylor x Fem!Reader.

Type: SFW, Fluff.

Summary: Following “Keep Me” Y/N and Rufus have a newborn baby to bring home and care for.

Warnings: None.

A/N: I could not resist writing this one since Anon asked about it. Also, I've had the toughest week in a while... so many life changes in so little time (I will not talk about it tho) and this piece might not be what people were expecting. I hope it is still enjoyable as I pushed myself to stay true to my word and have something to post today.

Y/N and Rufus are learning the hard way, but the most difficult and perhaps important lesson of them all for any parent out there is the first one they learned. On a Sunday night, merely five days away from their due date, Y/N started feeling “odd”. With a large belly, heavy with their baby, she tried to sleep while Rufus reassured her that it was fine.

“It’s fine. It will be fine!” He had said in an increasingly pitchier and pitchier tone before leaving her alone in their room so she could lay down on her side and try to catch some shuteye, which had been so elusive those past few weeks when their baby grew larger and more active. A kind reminder that her chaotic boyfriend was the father and now there was going to be a Mini-Rufus raising hell in their home.

Babies do not know of time, nor do they care. They are babies! And theirs was no special genius thoughtful baby. Rufus figured this out the moment Y/N began rubbing her belly that evening while they were watching tv. And he was nervous about it.

Like most things, it turned out to be okay. He called his mother first, trying his best to stay both calm and quiet. The rest of the night was a stressful journey. Getting Y/N to the hospital after her water broke and then waiting. The waiting was so much worse than either of them thought it would be. Among the machines and the weight of that uncomfortable state right before delivering a baby, Y/N almost swore to her boyfriend she was not having any more children. Almost.

The birth was not easy on Rufus; he glimpsed between Y/N’s legs and went pale in the face at the sight of a head coming out of her body. Certainly not a clean one, covered in blood his baby would be coming into the world. “Here’s the head!” One of the midwives announced, at which Rufus looked back at his girlfriend, desperate to know she was alright as the miracle of life wrecked her body. He would have an interesting conversation with his mother someday if he did not repress the memory of his beloved pushing a full baby out of her very own vagina.

Everything that they went through made sense at exactly 11:52 pm when Y/N held their baby girl for the first time, small and delicate she held on to Rufus’ finger with a pale hand soft and fragile. Ivy Jayne Taylor (as they named her) was perfect, which had the couple crying with happiness. Their baby, still swollen and somewhat funny coloured, laid between their arms at last. She had not been what people may call “planned”, but she would not be lacking any love because she had been “wanted” since the moment Y/N knew the news. Ivy Jayne Taylor’s parents had made her from their own love for each other, a love that had been born from a small seed of friendship and grew with time. A love that rooted itself healthy, strong and steady in both hearts like a tree. And she was now a new seed of love in those two hearts.

A day later, with the thumbs up from the doctor they were able to go home and arrived back to a quiet crowd waiting to meet Ivy Jayne. A mixture of Taylor’s and Y/L/N’s revolved around Y/N to watch baby Ivy as she slept in her mother’s arms.

“Ow, she is so pretty!” Lola whispered over the new mum’s shoulder.

“Oh yes…” Debbie spoke softly, touching the baby’s head with cautious fingers. “She’s got those Taylor genes, doesn’t she?” She smiled.

Indeed, the baby had a full hair of pale yellow hair already covering her head.

“Rufus, you did good!” Lilly squeezed his arm as he came back.

With the bags already upstairs he gave his sisters a tired side smile and walked up to his girlfriend and daughter. “You want me to take her?”

Shaking her head, Y/N was unable to look away from the petit features of her baby girl.

“You should rest too,” her mother said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Do it while she’s asleep, trust me you’ll need it.”

Everyone in the kitchen who had a child stirred a laugh or nodded.

“I don’t know, it feels weird…” Y/N admitted, her Y/E/C eyes turned to Rufus, “I don’t want to leave her anywhere.”

“We’re home,” Rufus reasoned. “it’s okay.”

Hesitantly, Y/N put Ivy on Rufus’ arms and watched him coo at her when she moved. Their baby looked even smaller in his embrace but the sight comforted her as he was joined by Felix, the two with a similar smile adorning their faces.

The blond drummer took their baby upstairs and she sat by the kitchen bar to chat with her relatives. Her mother had brought groceries and filled their fridge “enough for a week or so” she said.

The visit was not very long, everybody was aware that Y/N would probably want to rest even if she was smiling and listening to the conversations.

Rufus was only somewhat less exhausted, although the dark circles under his eyes stood testimony to the quality of sleep at the hospital the previous night when he could not leave his daughter’s side.

Not five minutes after the couple was left alone for the first time at home with their little baby did she start crying.

Ivy was a tall baby, still delicate and still small. She had proved how tough she was when she had her ears pierced at the hospital, the nurse thought she was going to go mad with anger and pain but the little blonde baby pushed her gloved hand away and gave a lazy moan. Now… babies are usually a lot less easygoing when they are taken home.

“What could she want?” Y/N turned to Rufus with their baby in her arms.

“Is she hungry?”

They tried to feed her, but Ivy was uninterested in mama’s breast.

“...maybe a clean diaper?” Rufus offered again, his astonishing unprofessional opinion, but that got them nowhere still.

Even worse, their baby’s loud wailing was getting louder with desperation.

“Rufus,” Y/N was frustrated but she managed to stay calm. “Hold her for a sec, okay?”

She decided to call her mother and ask for advice. Of course, when she left the room and found her phone in the kitchen with a bit of good advice from mum to go back upstairs to the nursery she found Rufus pacing with a silent and quite pleased looking Ivy pressed against his chest.

“Wha-” She stood in the doorway and smiled at Rufus. “How?”

He turned to her, grinning. “Figured maybe she is just like you,” he explained, “so all she wanted was to be held.”

Y/N sighed and looked away feigning annoyance, “that’s not all I want…”

“I know, you also like f-u-c…”

“I get it,” she interrupted with a straight face.

Rufus put his hand out and signalled for the new mum to come to him. She complied, going to him and wrapping her arm gently over their baby girl as the other went around Rufus’ waist. Rufus held her to his side and kissed the top of her head.

“You’ve just taken all the bragging rights available in this relationship, I will never make anything as perfect.”

Y/N followed his gaze and squeezed him in her embrace once she realised he was watching their daughter with adoring eyes. So he was going to be that kind of dad.

“Couldn’t’ve done it without you Ru.”

...

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[fairytsuk1]

late-night snacking (s)

part of the autumn experiences collection.

pairing: osamu miya x reader

genre: smut

warnings: fem!receiving oral

words: 1.8k

summary: let me please you.

prompt: feast

     You've come to realize that your boyfriend is essentially a human heater. Osamu seems like he'd be the stereotypical cold man who just couldn't (and wouldn't) extend his emotions to others, but that just wasn't right. Having dated the man for five years, you'd come to realize that he wasn't prickly and cold but rather eager to show how much he cared about people close to him.

     He wasn't too forward about that either, but you knew what he was trying to do.

     Curled up into his side on the couch, you're partly thankful your heater was all the way in storage and the two of you were too lazy to fish it out. Osamu's body heat was much nicer to be curled up against, and his relaxed breathing soothed you; it made you feel sleepy.

     "You're gonna miss the best part if you fall asleep," he looked down at you and squeezed your shoulder before motioning to the romcom movie.

"I'm not sleeping. I'm just...relaxing."

     He was not convinced but hummed and settled back on the movie. You'd chosen it, of course, the cheesy plots and stereotypical tropes always made your heart melt because they were just so cute but poorly done—something about things not being absolutely perfect made your heart do flips.

     Like 'Samu. He wasn't perfect, but you adored him. He had trouble expressing his emotions when problems were occurring, that always led to a lot of back and forth silence until one of you broke. It was annoying, you hated it when you could tell something was wrong and he wouldn't spit it out. It clashed with your need to problem solve and get to the bottom of the issue at that exact moment.

     He wasn't all bad, though. He was good with romantic gestures! Making lunch was his favorite if you recalled correctly. It must be an instinctual thing, wanting to provide for the one you love. That fact just made your heart pound more at the thought of it. He was also incredibly dazzling. During his volleyball era, you were obsessed with the way sweat rolled down his jawline, and how he'd look at you in the stands with a ferocity that made your knees completely weak. Sometimes, he'd come to your bedroom and completely envelop you with his mouth, lingering touches, and soft-spoken words. Other times, he pushed your face into the bedsheets and shuddered from how hard he came while you pathetically clenched around him. The mere thought of the various ways he could and would use you made your thighs clench as you looked up at him.

     His adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, and you admired the creamy skin tone on his neck that was begging to be littered with bruises. His eyes caught yours and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. You'd been caught.

     "Got something on your mind, doll?"

     Your face grows hot as you scrunch your face up and turn away from the knowing gaze, "nothing you need to know."

     "Yeah? Well, it's your movie night, and you're not even paying attention. Don't be mad when you don't like the movie I pick next time."

     He adjusts his seated position to pull you into his lap, large hands glide gracefully to your waist, and fingertips dip just under your pajama shorts. He's close, too close. His eyes are hooded as he looks at you expectantly.

"I don't know what you want from me! Now you're distracting me from the movie."

     "We can catch up on it later."

     His lips capture yours in a kiss, and you're weakened. He always knows how to have you where he wanted you. Strawberry chapstick, he's conscious of having soft lips. Mainly because Atsumu made fun of him for having dry lips so he continually puts it on. You don't mind too much; it tastes good and feels nice on your skin.

     He pulls away with a final tug to your bottom lip before giving you a small smile.

     "You look pretty tonight."

"Thank you."

     Diving back to your neck this time, he latches onto the left side of your neck and peppers kisses on the area. He takes his time, methodical and careful. It's nice, but it has you rolling your hips against his to feel just a bit of friction. You manage to wiggle against the tent in his sweatpants only twice until he bites down and sucks a bruise into your neck.

"'Samu!"

     "Stop trying to rush me, I'll give you all you want and more."

     Soothing the ache on your neck with a gentle kiss, he lifts your sweatshirt up to your collarbone and grins. He looks so stupid and boyish, you can't even believe that you're already ruining your underwear when he tugs your left nipple into his mouth and sucks.

     Keening, you immediately try to arch away, but he's faster and stronger. Peering up at you with those sinful eyes, he holds you in place. Your breath is starting to come out in short bursts, and you can feel him smiling as he kisses and marks up the valley between your breasts.

     "Let me eat you out. Lie back."

"Huh?"

     He flicks your nipple to hear the yelp come out of you. Immediately, you glare at him.

"That's not funny."

     "You like it when I'm mean to you. I'll stop, but just because I wanna see you cry under me."

     Molten lava swirls in your gut as you shift off of him and lie back on the expanse of the couch. Your underwear is sticky and now that you think about it, creaming on his tongue and fingers was not a bad way to get what you wanted. Though, you'd always prefer him fucking into your pussy with the appetite of a starved man, the fullness of his cock overtaking you and your brain turning to mush till all you could cry out was, "'Samu...Please, it's too much…!"

     He pushes you up so your head is supported by the armrest while focusing on your lower half. His eyes greedily take in the pose you're in before untying your shorts and shimmying them down your ass, tapping your thigh to lift as needed.

     "Oh? For me? I'll be sure to enjoy it."

     You feel exposed when he pulls your panties taut against your lips, the visible dark patch giving him an ego boost.

"Just get to it!" you huff and look down at him, impatient as ever.

     "Why are you so bratty?" you make eye contact with him and tremble under his dark gaze, "I told you I would take care of you, didn't I? You're not acting very gracious right now."

     You open your mouth to protest but cross your arms and glare up at the ceiling. Maybe you were being a bit bratty today...It was fun, though. You liked the way he looked at you and treated you.

     Your panties were taken off slowly and dangled on your foot; you'd begun to sweat by now. He was just staring at your cunt, not moving. You went to close your legs, but the sudden harsh suck against your clit made you jolt and grip his hair. Your legs naturally went to close, but he held them open effortlessly. He flattened his tongue and licked from your soaked opening to your clit again before pulling back.

     "Are you going to apologize?"

     He let his fingers form a peace sign before gliding between your wet lips, purposefully avoiding your clit.

"...'M sorry, Osamu. I'll stop being a brat. I love you."

     "I love you too, sweet girl."

     His head that rested on your thigh gave butterfly kisses to your it while his thumb rubbed a hard circle to your clit. Then, he did it once more as he sucked a hickey to the inside of your thigh.

     The pressure against your clit versus the softness of his kisses made your head spin. You rocked your hips up to catch more of his love and groaned at his ministrations. You looked down at him and bit your lip when you saw his eyes looking straight at you already. He smiled, and you watched in near admiration as he ground his tongue into your core and let a finger dip into your already soaked hole. 

"I need...I want you to…"

     "I know."

     Your voice, honeyed and needy, wailed as he gently crooked his finger up, lightly grazing the sensitive flesh while he worked the outside of your cunt in such a way that only your lover could. He murmured something incoherent against your flesh before letting two fingers delve inside you, a cry being torn from your throat as you shifted your hips to feel more of him inside you. You wanted him and only him.

     You were absolutely soaking his fingers as he let them glide in and out of you, soft groans falling from his lips as he watched you take him in. Your hand twitched, and he used his free one to interlace your fingers;smoothly working you to the point of release. The tight coiling in your loins let you know that you were so close. Osamu watched your free hand rise to toy with the pebbled buds of your breasts.

     You were panting now, your breath coming out fast as incoherent moans and cries spilled out from your lips. 

"Osamu! Please let me cum, I wanna…"

     He laughed lightly as the fog that clearly withheld all coherent sentences clouded over. He worked his fingers faster, the sloppy noise of him fucking your pussy being raunchier than any porn you two had ever watched.

     Pulling his fingers out, you cried and squeezed his hand. Though, he was not one to disappoint as he buried his face into your cunt and wormed his tongue through your folds to circle your sopping wet entrance. His fingers gripped your thighs so hard you could nearly feel the bruises appearing as he tongue-fucked you to your release. The wet gummy intrusion sent you spiraling as his nose bumped against your clit. Of course, the coil snapped, and you soaked his tongue as you came.

"Hah...oh god! 'S-Samu!!"

     He let his tongue lap up your essence while you spasmed around him. You rode his face to completion and sobbed from pleasure; he simply guided you till your thighs shut around his head, and you began to tilt your hips away from his mouth.

     Of course, cumming around his cock would've been ideal, but this was the next best thing. Your thighs released his head, and when he came up for air, you throbbed at his glistening chin. He smirked at you and licked his lips before butterfly kissing your-in his words-pretty pretty pussy.

     You lie on the couch boneless, convinced you'll have to get it steam cleaned as there was no way it wasn't wrecked with your cum.

"You shouldn't be allowed to be that good at that."

     "What? Eating your pussy? Well, eating is my favorite thing to do."

"'Samu! Don't be gross!"

     He sat back on his haunches and tilted his head.

     "I was just trying to thank you for the meal."

[oneletteredwondered]

Wanna fight? Gunna smooch about it? Coward?

Prinxiety make out fic

Happy birthday @just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot !

--

It’s nearly midnight when they start fighting. 

Virgil had been on the couch just messing on his phone for the past few hours, had actually passed out at one point, but woke up at such a time that allowed him no hope of actually going to bed proper. He remained lounging on the couch even after most of the others went to sleep or hibernate or whatever. All except Roman who looks a little worse for wear as he trudges over, most likely overworking himself again, and plops himself right on the open cushion next to Virgil.

A silent wave of his hand and a pad of paper and multicolored pens appear next to Roman as he begins to draw the night away, too many thoughts in his head to fall asleep. Virgil enjoys the silent company for what it is, both doing their own thing without the threat of having to do anything.

They remain like that for an hour or so, every so often glancing at each other just to see if they are still there or awake. Sometimes Virgil will show Roman a random meme that earns him an exhaled puff of laughter, but it’s during one of those random glances that Virgil catches sight of what Roman is drawing so diligently in his sketchbook.

“What are you doing?” He asks with a single raised eyebrow. Roman jumps and stares at him as if not remembering that Virgil could speak.

“Drawing of course!” Roman boasts, awkwardly angling his sketchbook away from Virgil’s prying eyes. Virgil levels him with a deadpan look and quick as can be lurches forward and pulls the book from Roman’s hand. Roman screeches and lunges after him but Virgil is lankier and manages to hold the book away from his grabby hands.

His eyes didn’t deceive him. Roman is drawing kissing. 

To be fair, the sketches are rather good, sloppy in their speed but it makes them feel more emotional in a way with how some of the figures curl around each other.

“Something on your mind Princey?” Virgil teases and relinquishes the book back to it’s proper owner. Roman lets out a very undignified huff and snatches his book to his chest.

“As if it’s any of your misery business,” Roman starts, pauses, and then wails, “But YES.”

Virgil snorts into his hand as Roman throws himself across the arm of the couch, hand to his forehead dramatically.

“It has been ages since my last kiss conquest and I am loathing the time,” He recites as if he practiced the line in the mirror, which Virgil would almost bet money on that he has. He rolls his eyes and kicks Roman lightly.

“I would hardly call it a conquest,” He says with a smirk. Roman mock glares at him and sets aside his sketchbook with another huff, then, like a mature adult, sticks his tongue out at Virgil. Virgil kicks him again just a little harder.

“Besides,” He says with an air of innocence that quickly turns sour. “You’re probably not even that good.” The reaction is instant, Roman’s jaw drops and he lets out an outright offended gasp.

“You need a nap!” Roman chides him and Virgil snickers behind his phone at the reaction. Roman looks positively bristled, arms crossed over his chest.

“I'm a good kisser,” Roman mumbles to himself but Virgil hears it all the same.

“Sure you are,” He taunts. Roman puffs up his cheeks.

“I’m better than you!” He shouts and points an accusatory finger at Virgil. Virgil sneers playfully and smacks the hand away, sitting up a little more from his lazy position. Maybe if they had this conversation years ago, Virgil would be worried about arguing with Roman about anything, but he can see the threat of a smile on Roman's face and knows it’s fine to banter back.

“You doubt me?” Roman asks him then, a hand to his chest to feign distress.

“Hell yeah I do!” Virgil says back right away to goad him. Roman gasps loudly. 

“Fiend! As if you're any better!”

“Better than you!” Virgil echoes Roman’s previous words.

“Is that a challenge!”

“Fucking bring it Princey I'll kick your ass at kissing."

“I will beat you with all of my love!” Roman says back and he's on the edge of bursting into laughter just as Virgil is.

“You wanna fight about it? Gunna smooch me? Coward?”

They've steadily been getting closer and closer to each other, inching bit by bit on the couch until their knees touch, and though he was literally just egging Roman on, the quick kiss catches Virgil entirely off guard. It’s firm, a press of lips just to be there, and Roman pulls back nearly just as quick, both of them wide eyed.

Roman looks just as stunned as if he also didn't expect for him to do that. In the sudden silence Virgil can feel his heart pound hard in his ears. They stare at each other and then Virgil lets out a hysterical giggle he'd be embarrassed to make if Roman didn't make the same noise.

“I uh,” Roman starts but he's smiling. Virgil can feel something wild and fizzy in his chest, sort of like anxiety but more excited.

“Got caught up in the moment?” Roman asks as a way of explanation, giving a sheepish smile. Virgil snorts and turns his head down to hide the bewildered expression on his face, that slowly slips away as he wonders if he should say something, and then if he's waited too long to say something, and then if it's now awkward because he hasn't. He looks over to Roman who is just smiling to himself like a loon, and Virgil talks without thinking.

“It wasn't that good,” He says teasingly with a small smirk and the spark in Roman’s eyes tells him that Roman doesn't take it badly.

“Oh really?” Roman says challengingly, angling back into Virgil's space. Virgil shrugs and leans closer to him, gripping his hoodie to hide his shaking hands.

“I mean, you could do better,” Virgil says, trying to go for casual even if his heart is beating like crazy. He bites the inside of his lip and wonders if he looks as hopeful as he feels. Roman smirks something wicked at him.

“In that case-” and Virgil freezes as Roman puts a hand on his shoulder to push him into the back of the couch so he sits right. He barely registers what's happening when a leg swings over both of his, and Roman is settling on his lap proper. One hand goes to his cheek that warms him to his toes and an arm is thrown over his shoulder to draw him in.

Virgil is a little more prepared for the kiss this time, able to see Roman grin at him before he closes the gap between them. He closes his eyes and allows Roman to press him into the cushion behind him. His hands go to rest on the top of Roman’s legs simply to keep balance, feeling the warmth of Roman through his pants. He lets out a soft sigh into the kiss.

Their lips move together, slowly at first, testing the waters of each other. Gentle and easy, letting the initial nervousness melt away as they get more used to each other. Virgil finds himself relaxing into the couch at the touch.

Then Roman lifts himself a tiny bit and the hand on Virgil's cheek angles his head up to be able to kiss him deeper, lips moving with more urgency. Virgil follows along, heart feeling like it may burst in his chest as he digs his hands harder into Roman's legs. A hand curls into his hair and tugs just enough to send a thrill down his spine.

Roman sighs into the kiss, perhaps a little whiny, and presses into him more and Virgil snaps his hands up to Roman’s back and drags him down to bring them flush together. They can’t very well get much closer but they’re still going to try with the way Roman’s arms circle over his shoulders. Virgil grips at his shirt in return, wanting more but not knowing where to start because he wants to start everywhere.

He lets out a small groan when Roman ventures to poke at his lips with his tongue, asking if that's a more they can do. Virgil would be a fool to deny him in this moment, so he kisses harder, widening his mouth just that little bit that Roman needs to press their tongues together, groaning again when Roman goes right to sucking on it.

Virgil keeps pace with him, licking into Roman’s mouth just as much as his hands wander up and down the Prince’s back, feeling him move and arc into the touch while Roman focuses on stealing his breath away. Hands hold his face to keep him close, not that Virgil would want to go anywhere else. 

He's buzzing inside, feeling like he can run miles with the amount of passion Roman is pouring into him, continuing to press him into the couch. His chest lurches when Roman moans softly and he grips Roman's shirt like a lifeline to keep them both grounded.

It’s then Virgil notices the slight back and forth of Roman’s hips on his lap, almost unconsciously. Virgil trails his hands lower to rest on his waist, feeling the motion, then grabs Roman and guides him into a full rock.

“Shit,” Roman breaks away to curse breathlessly, face red and looking down at Virgil in a daze. Virgil knows he’s not fairing much better despite any possible foundation he wore. He gives a lopsided smile that is returned before Roman leans in for another kiss.

He feels Roman move to push him down into the cushions, but adrenaline kicks in and Virgil shoves off the back, shooting up from his semi slouched position and meets Roman over half way to the kiss, clashing their lips together and pressing their chests flush. Roman lets out a squeak that spurs Virgil further. He angles Roman back, causing both of them to latch their arms around each other so Roman doesn't fall. Roman’s hands are burning on his back where they are splayed out, twisting the fabric of his hoodie, and he can feel Roman's thighs squeeze around his.

There's no more nerves as they kiss, no trepidation or caution. They kiss more openly, allowing tongues to push against each other. Virgil gets Roman to let out a low groan when he sucks on his tongue boldly, the noise once more sending a thrill down his spine. He pulls Roman impossibly closer and moves their kiss towards heady. Virgil feels so alive.

Roman responds eagerly, tugging at Virgil's hair happily and moving his hips back and forth with renewed purpose, finally managing to sit up a bit more so he's not in danger of toppling. He tilts Virgil's head to deepen the kiss and Virgil whimpers. 

They can barely keep still, hands moving all over wherever they can reach. It's almost a jarring pause when Virgil drags Roman’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls back tantalizingly slow. He feels Roman shudder under his hands and nips just that much harder at his lip in response.

They are both panting, lips red with the amount of force they put behind their kisses. Virgil can feel his heart so hard against his ribs he wonders if Roman can feel it too.

Roman swallows hard and Virgil zeros in on the way his throat bobs at the motion.

“Well?” Roman asks breathlessly. Virgil blinks at him trying to get the daze out his head.

“Well what?” He says smartly. Roman smirks infuriatingly, which he shouldn't be able to pull off with his face as red as it is.

“Was that better? You gunna admit I'm a better kisser?” He teases. Virgil snorts and playfully tosses Roman, causing him to stumble off his lap and into the seat next to him.

“You wish,” He says and lets out a very dignified noise of his own when Roman takes the fall to his advantage, grabbing Virgil by his jacket to haul him over and on top of him. Virgil lands with a huff, hands braced on either side of Roman’s head, eyes wide and worried that he might've hurt Roman in his fall. Roman grins cheekily at him though so Virgil glares with no anger at him and slots their legs together comfortably. Once settled Roman fists his jacket to yank him into another burning kiss.

Virgil presses him into the cushions now, one hand going to trail Roman’s side, feeling the muscle there as Roman breathes heavily and arcs into the touch, his other hand remains by Roman's head to keep steady. He grunts when Roman bites his lip, potentially in revenge, and Roman uses the surprise to his advantage, slipping his tongue into Virgil's mouth and maneuvering in such a way that if Virgil was any less proud, would have made him melt, and it partially does, letting himself fall to his elbow by Roman's head.

Two can play that game and he puts a hand on Roman’s hip right where his thigh meets the juncture, and presses him down with a roll of his hips. In the harsh gasp Roman let's out, he curls them tighter, moving his lips more passionately.

Roman throws his head back to breathe but Virgil doesn't care much for it, dipping his head to latch onto Roman’s neck. He pulls skin between his teeth and sucks hard. Roman lets out a whine and writhes under him, gripping at his shoulders and jerking his hips up for friction. Virgil presses down to give it to him and laps at the skin he’s captured.

“Shit Virgil, shit,” Roman manages to say and Virgil smirks into his neck, a thrill going through him at the reaction, and moves up to kiss hard at Roman's pulse point. He groans as Roman pulls his hair and pops off when tugged harder. Roman looks properly disheveled with his eyes hooded and the look he gives fills Virgil with wanting.

They crash their lips together again, arms circling around each other to bring the other as tight as they can. Whatever focus they had before is gone as their mouths move with each other, lips working seamlessly and little flicks on tongue spurring them on for more. It’s Virgil this time who eventually tilts his head to be able to lick into Roman’s mouth more so, whining when Roman sucks at his tongue with no reservation.

They shift their legs as best they can, Virgil bracing himself on his knees as Roman lifts his free leg over Virgil’s back to squeeze him down. With his body partially supported on Roman, Virgil's hands begin to wander. Down Roman’s sides where he can reach, then low across his back feeling some of the heated exposed skin there from where Roman's shirt rid up in their shifting that causes Roman to sigh deeply, and lower still across his rear and his thighs. Virgil grips it tight and bites Roman’s lip.

They're both panting when they pull apart, hips rolling gently just to feel some kind of friction that Virgil can feel the tingles of all along his spine. He dips once he feels less light headed, going to the other side of Roman’s neck and kissing at the skin closer to his jaw, Roman lets his head fall to give him access, digging at his shoulders to keep him there.

Virgil licks at the skin, nipping softly, teasingly, then sucking the skin in and biting down to hold it. Roman once again arcs into him, throwing his arms over Virgil's back and using his leg as leverage to rub at Virgil’s body where he can’t reach. Then the leg caught between Virgil's lifts until it can't anymore, giving Virgil some pressure he didn't have before. He rocks forward and bites harder, Roman giving a small shout at the action.

Virgil releases the now marked skin and moves quickly to kiss him and swallow the noise down. Roman grips and tugs at his clothes harder now, more desperate, kissing more harshly. There’s an ache and their lips will be swollen after this and neither can find the will to care. Not with Virgil's hands on Roman’s stomach warm and firm and Roman’s legs keeping them wrapped up. The pull apart and Roman’s chest heaves with the amount of air he’s taking in.

“You good?” Virgil croaks out cause he has to make sure. He's answered with a bright grin and another kiss that steals his breath away. Roman slows the pace, making their kisses more languid than heated. Carefully Virgil shifts his legs out so he's not kneeling but more so laying on top of Roman with his full weight. 

He’s worried about being heavy but Roman lets out a content sound so he stays there, he slides his hands around to spread across Roman’s back, not gripping any more but keeping him close, the hands now in his hair are not tugging but holding him gently. Even with the pace change it still makes Vigil warm inside.

He moves his lips with Roman’s letting him take the lead of the kiss this time around, and sighing himself when Roman gently brushes their tongues together. The hands in his hair move down his spine to rest on his waist. When they part again, Virgil drops to smush his face into Roman's chest, feeling him breath against his cheek.

“So now how is it?” Roman asks once he's regained energy to talk but still a little winded. Virgil still has enough energy to be a little shit.

“Mmm, I don't know," He lazily lifts to his knees and elbows to smirk at the incredulous expression on Roman's face. "Come back Thursday to try again.” He says. Roman stares dumbly at him and looks at the clock on the wall with a glare.

“That's in seven minutes!” He whisper hisses. Virgil just shrugs from his awkward, but very comfy, position.

“Guess you'll have to wait,” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. Roman growls and throws his arms up.

“Screw Thursday!” He yells and swings his arms over Virgil to haul him back in for another kiss. And Virgil would kiss him back but he’s laughing too hard.

[maxfieldparrishes]

sweet thing

Pip/Seras. Absolutely not for the kiddos. 

[read on AO3] 

-

Underneath him, Seras twists, and Pip can’t help but smile. Yes, he is bound to her, bound to obey her above all things–and glad of it. Being part of her, sharing her existence… it really isn’t so bad, he thinks, if this is something he gets the privilege to experience.

It’s a far better afterlife than the one he’d envisioned for himself, during his fleeting moments of belief. Certainly a better one than he deserved.

Below him, Seras grabs at his wrist as he thrusts his fingers inside her, his loose hair pooling in spirals on her abdomen, her teeth clenched against her groans. Her left arm shimmers faintly, so faintly that to the unknowing, human eye it would look like any normal limb, but Pip knows better. It’s the wound she took for him and his, and even this–his eternal servitude to her–isn’t enough to repay her for what she’s done.

She’s beautiful like this, he thinks, with her fair hair splayed out on the pillow of the bed she’d insisted on bringing into her dungeon chamber, for purposes of ostensible normalcy. Her idea had been that her coffin could be quickly disguised as a table, so any unknowing humans wouldn’t be alarmed (as if many would be walking down to her bedroom to begin with), and the bed was just for show. Pip had just snorted. If Seras thought she was fooling anyone with her lame excuse, she was clearly delusional–everyone and their mother could see that the bed was clearly there so he could fuck her in it.

He isn’t complaining, though. It is far easier to fuck her in the bed than having to hold her up against the wall, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Pip thrusts his fingers into her again and she mewls, hips bucking, thighs slipping over his as she chases the pleasure, desperate for more of his touch. He watches her out of his eye critically, analyzing her, evaluating just how needy she is and just how needy she needs to be for him to allow her to come.

She could be needier, but she’s been such a good girl… Maybe he’ll take pity on her.

Pip applies his thumb to her clit, still fucking her with his fingers, and she moans. Her grip on his wrist turns punishing, hard enough to break it had he still been human, but all he feels is a pleasant squeeze. Her other hand reaches above her head to grip the pillow hard enough that her knuckles turn even whiter, and he grins.

It takes only a few moments for the movement of her hips to become erratic and jerky, for her moans to turn to cries, and it will be soon, he knows it. “That’s it, Seras–” he pants encouragingly, breathless even though neither of them need to breathe, “–that’s it; come on,” and, for the (un)life of him, she does. Her walls clench his fingers so tightly that guiding her through the aftershocks becomes a struggle, and he feels her wail echo all the way through him–his ears, his hands, his cock…

It’s a strong climax, pleasant enough, he’s sure, but Pip wants more from her. He wants her driven mad with it, wants her swollen and dripping and deliriously content. So he doesn’t stop once her residual tremors fade, doesn’t let her rest, not that she really needs to; he keeps the pace up and tries not to get distracted by her half-lidded oxblood eyes and open-mouthed moans and the near-pained expression on her face.

Seras looks up at him, curiosity and arousal mixing in her gaze, meeting his fingers with every rock of her hips. When he starts to rub her clit again in quick, vicious circles, though, any languorousness in her vanishes, replaced by heat and tension and something akin to alarm.

“You can do better,” he says, suddenly acutely aware of how hard he is, wanting her to fall over the edge so they can move on to something a bit more… substantial. “Come on, Seras. Give me another one. A bigger one. Show me how much better you can do.”

She’s gyrating beneath him, writhing, both hands gripping the pillow above her head with such force it’s a wonder it hasn’t torn under her grip. Her movements are entirely out of her control, he’s pleased to note, her hips moving helplessly from the overstimulation against his hand, chest heaving, and Pip thinks it might be the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

A few more thrusts and circles have Seras tumbling over, the side of her face pressed deeply into the pillow, eyes closed and mouth open in a cry of pleasure, her back arching off the bed. Her legs tighten involuntarily around his hips and he falls flush against her, still making sure to work her through her fading quakes, his head nestled in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

This time, he lets her enjoy the afterglow. They lay chest-to-chest in silence, cooling in the dark, until he feels her start to shift around, in hesitant, minute increments that brush those beautiful tits of hers against him. Pip pretends not to notice her movements, instead pressing open-mouthed, lazy kisses to the side of her neck where her scar sits, and waits to see what she’ll do.

All she does is wiggle underneath his weight, tiny grunts here and there the only sign that she might still be feeling a little… unfulfilled, so Pip forces her hand. He purposefully angles himself so that, the next time she moves, her stiff little nipples drag across his skin, and her breathy “Oh!” is all the confirmation he needs.

Pushing himself up onto his hands, he grins triumphantly down at Seras, who determinedly avoids his gaze. Her face is almost as red as her eyes, and Pip chuckles as he leans down to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Do you need something?” he asks as his hands come to fondle her breasts. He sucks a kiss into the underside of her jaw, nipping down her neck to her collarbone, laving each small bite with his tongue. “Is something wrong, Seras?”

“N-no,” she answers, gasping when he pinches her nipple, blushing even harder. “N-no, n-nothing’s… wrong…”

“Hm.” Pip nibbles at her clavicle before kissing a wandering trail across the top of her chest, not blind to the way her hands come up to tangle themselves in his hair. “See, I think you’re lying, Seras.” He licks and sucks and kisses his way to the valley between her breasts, tickling the side of each one with his nose. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

Her hands tighten, tugging at the strands. “N-no, of course not,” she says, as he scatters soft kisses across her flesh, taking purposeful care not to accidentally touch any part of the ruched little peak that’s been tempting him ever since he got her naked.

“So don’t do it.” He licks a circle around the outer edge of her areola with the tip of his tongue, groaning when she pulls, hard, on the locks. “Tell me. You won’t like it if I have to guess.”

“I–” she stammers out, “I want–” and her voice cuts off when he touches his tongue to the tip of her nipple and swirls it around.

He nips sharply at the underside of her breast. “Don’t stop. Keep going, Seras. Tell me.”

“I–” she sputters, her thighs rubbing against his, “touch me–”

“I am touching you, Seras.” But… technically she did answer him, so he rewards her with a long, lingering lick across her peak, one that would have had him one sharp yank on his scalp away from being bald, had he needed to worry about it. “Is that it? Was I not touching you where you needed it?”

Oh. Her face couldn’t possibly get any redder. But Pip is determined to see this little interrogation of his through, so he stays the course, even though he’s so hard at this point that he’d much rather sling her legs over his shoulders and go for broke.

“I–”

“Answer me, little girl,” he murmurs. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

Seras can’t even look him in the face, much less answer him, she’s so embarrassed, but he gives her some incentive in the form of a hard suck on her nipple and, sure enough, the words come tumbling out.

“I–in–” she babbles, and Pip worries the tender little bud gently between his teeth, delighted with the sound of her moans and the sharp jerk of her hips against his. “Please!”

“Where, Seras? Is it here?” he asks, licking her peak with the flat of his tongue, hand snaking down between their bodies to dip between her legs. “Maybe here?” He uses the pad of his middle finger to rub a feather-light circle on the top of her clit, grinning when she grabs at his hand and guides his fingers inside her, her mouth opening when he flexes them experimentally.

He tsks. Seras is trying to control his hand, scooting and wriggling around while she pushes and pulls and presses on his fingers in all sorts of ways–Pip knows what she wants and what she’s looking for. He also knows that he won’t be using his fingers to give it to her, and it takes everything in him not to smile at the thought of what’s coming next.

He withdraws, pulling his wrist from her grasp, and she gives a plaintive whine when the last knuckle slips out of her.

“I–had it–” she pants. “Felt it–” and then her head falls back onto the pillow and she groans, loudly, in frustration, gripping the sheets in her white-knuckled hands.

Pip runs a soothing hand up and down her side. “Hush now. I know what you need,” he whispers before sitting back and rolling her onto her stomach, settling himself between her legs. He circles her opening before easing a single finger into her, because he knows it won’t be anywhere near enough to get her off, and he still has more to say. “It’s here, right, Seras? That one spot inside…”

She nods frantically, looking back over her shoulder at him, eyes wide. “Yes!”

He removes the digit to take large, lingering handfuls of her plump ass, squeezing it rhythmically, caressing the skin with his thumbs. Seras gasps and tries to work herself upright, but he lets one cheek go to push her gently back down with a hand between her shoulder blades.

“Poor thing.” He nuzzles her shoulder, the nape of her neck. “Does it ache? Make you feel empty?”

“Yes…” Oh, she sounds so pitiful. He loves it.

“I can help with that,” he croons, lifting her onto all fours, positioning himself behind her. “I can fill you up. Only… Seras…” and he pushes the head of his cock into her, sinking into her slowly, centimeter by centimeter. “… it needs a little rub, doesn’t it? That’s what it wants, what you want… it’s only… it’s only that it’s deep, so deep in you, Seras,” he sighs, finally bottoming out, reveling in the feeling of her hot, wet cunt surrounding him, “that it makes it hard… Can you take it? Can you take me this deep?”

“Yes!” She practically shouts it, and he almost covers her mouth out of reflex. But they are in the basement of the manor, her terrifying eldritch demon of a mentor is away, and anyone who matters to them already knows. Let her scream her pretty little head off. He’ll make damn sure that she does.

“Good,” he says, rocking into her with slow, deliberate thrusts, adjusting the angle at which she’s bent to make it even deeper. “Take it, Seras. I know you can.”

Seras is pent up enough that she slams herself back against him with such force that, had he been human, would have sent him flying through the wall, but as he is now he just catches her against him and laughs. Pip keeps his hands on her hips, controlling her movements, directing the way she grinds back and down on his cock, trying not to lose himself in the way she stretches and ripples around him.

It takes a few moments but he finds the rhythm easily enough: smooth, direct thrusts finished off with a slow grind that has both of them moaning, Seras with an upward lilt that belies her rising tension and Pip with his teeth grazing the nape of her neck. The angle means that the tip of him hits that spot inside her with every forward stroke, the grind massages it, and the head of his cock drags against it whenever he withdraws, leaving Seras clutching the bedsheets in her fist.

The way they move together borders on perfect and he never wants it to end, but he can see that Seras is starting to tremble and knows it won’t take long before she comes again. Equally urgent, he’s harder than steel and already leaking, but his pride won’t allow him to finish before her, so he decides to speed it up.

He moves faster and faster, driving harder and harder into her until he’s almost dizzy with it, not caring that Seras is shouting loud enough to wake the dead with each movement and that her hips are snapping back artlessly against his own. Her arms and shoulders quiver and god it’s so good, but he wants her to come absolutely undone from it, and he knows that she needs more to push her into such manic territory.

Pip bends onto her, letting her take his weight while one hand circles around to her front. He settles his palm flat between her pelvic bones and, the next time he enters her, presses down hard. The motion grinds the head of his cock relentlessly straight against the little knot that’s been causing her so much trouble, and Seras screams when he doesn’t let up.

He has one more trick in store for her. She’s close to the edge, only a hair’s breadth away and a few more seconds of this would be all she needs, but he wants to make her come. The hand not pressed against her belly comes to rub furiously at her clit, and that’s what ends her.

Seras is always beautiful, but she is exceptionally so whenever she climaxes. Her hips slam back into his, suddenly going motionless, and then she writhes and bucks and moans so wildly that the small pieces of human still left in him fears she’ll hurt herself, clenching around him so tightly that London itself could still be burning outside and neither of them even would notice.

“That’s it, Seras,” he whispers huskily as her climax overtakes her, “that’s it.” He is the one who is close now, gritting his teeth as he continues to work her with his fingers, trying to wring out every little bit he can from her before he finally, finally gets relief. He catches her again on the downstroke one last time, still mercilessly touching her, and her spasms start all over again. “Yes, just like that, Seras,” he groans as his peak reaches him, taking in the look of exhausted bliss on her face as she continues to flutter and shake around his cock. “Just like that.”

Pip comes inside her with a low roar and a muffled curse into her shoulder, easing them both through the aftershocks with gentle rolls of his hips, until her tremors die down at last and he withdraws to lie, panting, on the bed next to her.

He gropes in the bedside table for the carton of Lucky Strikes that he knows she keeps in there specifically for him because, as he’s repeatedly told her, there’s nothing better than a good smoke after a good fuck.

(Seras hasn’t picked up on it yet, but he always smokes when they’re done.)

He flicks the lighter closed, sighing when the nicotine hits him. He has a good smoke, one hell of an afterglow, and his woman lying exhausted and well-loved next to him. A better afterlife than he deserves, indeed. Pip’s not quite sure what he’s done to earn it, but he won’t ask questions he doesn’t want to know the answer to.

Seras is still face down on the mattress, though, unmoving, so he gently shakes her shoulder and asks, “Hey. You still alive?”

She opens her eyes blearily, with a groan and a pout, and he’s so charmed by it that he just stares at her, mouth open, like an idiot. “Mm… I’m alive,” she answers, rolling onto her back to stretch her arms above her head. “You wore me out, though.”

“Good,” he says, and pulls her into his embrace. “The day I don’t is the day you know you need to put me down like a sick old dog.” Seras jerks and stiffens at that–she never likes to broach that subject–but Pip just chuckles, running his fingers over her skin.

They lay together that way–Pip idly tracing nonsense patterns on her lower back, Seras playing softly with his hair. This is the only sort of silence the two of them have ever found any comfort in, and neither one desires to break it.

But Seras does, though, when she ducks her head and asks him, in a shy voice, “It was… good, right?”

He stares at her, dumbfounded and incredulous, his cigarette burning down to the filter. Was it good? What the hell sort of question is that? He’s about to say something snarky and no doubt stupid when he softens–he remembers that Seras is still young at heart, sunnier than any person has a right to be despite all that’s happened to her, and it’s the one thing about her that he always finds a bit gutwrenching.

Good, his ass. It was better than good.

“Oh, you sweet thing.” She is too much, he decides, but her need for validation pleases him anyway. Turning to lie on his back, he takes her with him, cradling her with one arm and flicking the burnt-out cigarette into the ashtray with the other. “Yeah, it was good,” he says, brushing her hair back with one hand. “I don’t blow my load like that for just anyone, you know.”

Seras blushes at his crudeness but smiles nonetheless, turning her face up obediently so he can kiss her, sweetly, on the mouth. She settles against him, her eyes drifting closed–she does not need to sleep but, like most people, she does enjoy a nap every now and then. She cannot sleep in the bed for more than an hour or two at a time–all of her rest must be done in her coffin, and neither of them are ready for him to go back inside her yet–and she’ll probably need to feed when she wakes, but for now…

Pip lights another cigarette, pulls Seras even closer, and closes his eyes.

[littlemoonchildbear]

Gally’s Arrival

Author’s note: English is not my first language then, tell me if you find something wrong and I’ll correct it. I wrote this one-shot a long time ago and just decided to translate to English now. Katherine is an OC from my Maze Runner fanfic and maybe in the future, I write it in English too. Hope someone enjoys it. 😊

Summary: Have you ever imagined what was like for Gally when was his time to come to the glade? How did he react to all the lost memory thing?

Words: 3084

Warnings: none.

Gif’s credits: @tiffanymaxwels​

The sirens started wailing warning everybody what was to come, but they already knew what it was. Another poor teenager scared as hell, perhaps with some injury, without any memory besides their own name.

Katherine was the first among the six people in the clearing to reach the box. She was curious to know who it was this time, she hoped it would be another girl, even if they didn't become friends at least she would feel more comfortable in the clearing.

As soon as the sirens stopped and three other boys arrived, Alby and Minho went ahead to raise the bars that kept the entrance closed. As soon as Kathy looked down there, she was a bit disappointed, it was another boy who looked very tall, with short blond hair. Although she couldn't see the color of his eyes from that distance, she could see they were wide-open and he had a very peculiar pair of eyebrows.

“Hey! Can you climb up here by yourself?” said Alby

The boy was confused. With a frown, he looked at the three boys suspiciously, so Kathy realized he hadn't noticed her, maybe because she was crouched.

“Cat got your tongue? Don’t know how to speak?”  provoked Minho

Now those other emotions have softened and an angry look has taken over his eyes, all the time focused on Minho.

“Come, we will help you.”

Alby signaled for Minho and Ben to get him out. As soon as the boys extended one arm each, the blond pulled Minho's arm tightly making him fall towards him, quickly the greenie circled an arm around Minho's neck, holding him tightly, he could hardly breathe.

“Who are you? What am I doing here and why can't I remember anything?” he said aggressively

“Hey easy there, greenie! Let him go, get out of there and let's have a civilized conversation.” Alby said trying to calm the other

“I don't want to talk! I want you to give me answers! Right now!” he shouted

Minho was almost turning purple.

“You better let him go before I get down there and kick your ass!” threatened Alby

 “I want to see you try.” the blond challenged while tightening poor Minho's neck even more

Before Alby could do anything, Kathy made herself noticed

“Hey, hey, calm down you two!” she got up “we have no idea what's going on either ok?” she was closer to the edge of the box “it's ok, we're all in the same boat, no one here is going to hurt you.”

The boy's eyes were fixed on her, his anger had subsided and he loosened the grip on the Asian boy's neck, but there was still suspicion in his eyes.

“You can trust me, it's okay.” Kathy now entered the box very slowly “I know you are confused and afraid, we all went through it too. Now let him go and let's talk like civilized people.

He stepped back, Minho still in his arms as she entered the box and stretched her hand towards him.

“If you want, we can talk just the two of us, I'll tell you everything we know, but let Minho go.”

Kathy looked deep into his eyes, now she could see their colour, they were green and he also had lovely freckles through his nose and cheeks, she would have smiled if it wasn't for the situation, they were in.

“Please.” she said with a sigh

The boy thought for a moment, but for some reason, that girl gave him a feeling of trust, tranquility, for some reason he felt he should listen to her.

He let go of Minho with aggressiveness. The Asian boy fell on the floor on all fours coughing and trying to catch his breath. Katherine knelt down in front of him with a worried look, put one hand on her friend's back and the other raised his face checking if everything was ok with him. She helped him up and before the boy did anything against the other, Kathy held him by the arm and whispered something that whatever it was it worked.

Minho was taken out of the box, then Katherine also left, as soon as she stood up, she turned and stared at the blond one who was still motionless down there.

“Come on, now it's your turn.” She smiled and stretched out her hand - “trust me you don't want to stay in there all day. It's more interesting out here.”

He got closer to the exit where she was standing and got her hand. Ben got closer to help and then, they finally got him out of there.

When he came out, he looked around, everything he could see was grass, many trees all of them located in a specific place unknown to him. He realized that whenever he looked there were enormous walls making something like a giant square.

There was nothing in that place besides trees and something that looked like an improvised tent. It was just 4 wooden stakes stacked on the ground with a long cloth above them, which he could conclude was intended to be the ceiling, and to make sure it didn’t move from its place the edges were nailed in the stakes.

Under the ‘tent’ he could see an improvised bed and on it, a person was laid while another one was seated in a chair beside it. However, the person on the chair was more focused on organizing some things that were on the ground.

He gave one more look around himself until he stopped on the girl who was with a sweet smile on her lips and with her arms crossed.

“I told you out here was more interesting.” she turned to the black boy “Alby, what do you think about you, Minho, Ben, and Jeff took the supplies out of the box while I explain everything to our big boy?” she said turning and giving two pats on grennie’s arm.

“Alright, hope you can keep him controlled. Tell Jeff to come and help us.”

The 3 boys that were standing there started to take the things out of that box. Kathy turned to the greenie.

“Come on big boy, I’ll explain everything you need to know.” she said starting walking

“My name is not big boy.” he said grumpily.

“Oh really?!” she said a little sarcastically and looking at him “So, how can I call you? Can you remember your name?”

“My name is Gally.” he said seriously without hesitation

“Wow, you were fast. It’s a pleasure, my name is Katherine, but everybody is too lazy to say it all so, they call just Kathy.” she offered her hand to him and he did the same

They arrived at the ‘tent’ and the boy who was busy organizing things was coming towards them. The other boy on the bed was sleeping. Gally was able to see that his leg was immobilized and bandaged. It seemed to be broken.

“How is he doing Jeff?” the girl asked worriedly

“He seems to get better, but it’s going to take some time so he can walk again. Maybe it never is the same.”

“Okay.” she sighed “Alby is calling you to get the box’s supplies.”

“I’m on my way.” before he could go, he noticed Gally “Welcome to the glade greenie.” he ran to help the others

Kathy got closer to the sleeping boy, caressed his hair, and checked if he had a fever. Gally just kept looking at her. She looked sad and worried. That boy might be someone really important to her. He was so distracted looking at how delicate she was taking care of the hurt boy that he almost jumped when she looked straight at him.

“You can start making your questions.” she gave a little smile

“Why can’t I remember anything besides my name?”

“Great, with so many questions you had to do this one.” she mumbled to herself “Look greenie, we don’t know this too, okay? All of us went through this just like you, we came with nothing besides our names, some of us took longer to remember them, but we have no idea of why.”

“And why are we here? Who put us here? What is this place? What are these walls?”

“Okay I’ll explain everything at once.” she sighed deeply before continuing “We don’t know neither why nor who did it with us. Every month a box comes up with supplies and a new glader, this month we were rewarded with you.”

“What is behind these walls?”

“There is a maze. We didn’t have the courage to explore all of it yet, I don’t think we are near even half of it. We are waiting to have more people, but from the little we’d already seen, shows that it will not be easy to found a way out. At least we have each other and with everybody doing their part I know we’ll make it.” she took his hand and looked deeply into his eyes.

Gally looked to their hands. It was difficult to accept all of that, who could do such a thing with them? Why the hell they were put in a so repulsive place? His thoughts were interrupted by Katherine screaming with the other boys.

“Hey! Ben, be careful with this box, it’s the medication we asked!” she stood up quickly and walked to them “Stay here Gally, don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back!” she told him while running “These shanks can’t do anything without me…” said to herself

Gally kept looking at her. She took the box from Ben’s hands and said something to him, she looked furious. From what he could see, they weren’t as careful as she expected.

“So… you were the lucky teen of the month?” Gally jumped with the new voice

The boy who was sleeping before now was awake and was lifting his body carefully to seat on the bed.

“I’m Newt.” he said offering his hand

“Gally”

“I suppose Kathy has already said the basic to you, hasn’t she?”

Gally nodded.

“Did she have time to explain about the jobs?

He shook his head.

“Well, there are not many of them, you can end being responsible for more than one task, but from what I can see, you can help us building some things.

“What each of you does here?”

“Well, I don’t think you know their names. Alby, the tall black guy is our leader and intends to build a place where we can sleep. Ben, the blond guy, is helping Alby, but he goes to the maze with Minho, the guy with Asian features, to find a way out of here. Jeff, the boy that was here before is our med jack and work on the garden as well, to make sure that we have enough supplies. I help in the garden too, but from what you can see I suffered an accident then, I haven’t worked for some weeks.

“What about Kathy?” he asked curiously

“Already fell in love for her?” Newt teased him

“It’s not like this.” Gally said blushing “I’m just curious.”

“Good to know, cause I don’t want anyone insinuating himself to my sister.”

“She’s your sister?!” his eyes widened

“Yep. We found out not so long ago. She was supposed to be a med jack, but she ends up as a handywoman and she helps in everything she can. She even goes into the maze when is necessary.

The two boys turned their gazes to her. Katherine was helping to take box after box, supplies after supplies. She would point where they should put the things and when they finished Kathy patted everybody’s backs. She walked closer to the Asian boy, what was his name again? Minho! Yeah, that’s right. Gally didn’t like him so far, he seemed to be always sarcastic. Katherine was examining him, she looked at his neck, his face laid her hands on his shoulders, and smiled. After this she came back to them besides Jeff, they were having a serious conversation.

“Yeah, she’s always like that.” Newt said getting his attention “Doesn’t matter who is she takes care of the person as they were her treasure.

“I don’t think she’s gonna do it to me.”

“Wait and see.” said Newt smirking

She finally reached the tent.

“Hey, little brother! How are you feeling?”

“Like a bunch of plong.”

“I see you were talking to our big boy. He nearly choked Minho.”

“He deserved. He was teasing me.”

“It’s okay big boy, but from now on, no choking other gladers. One of our rules is to not hurt each other, are we clear?” she said bloody serious

Gally nodded, he was glazed in her eyes, they were a delicate shape, deeply brown and were shining.

“Very good, from what I can see you are not hurt.” she said examining his face, neck, and arms “Let’s talk to Alby so he can determine your tasks, I think I have an idea of what you can do, you look very strong.” she felt his arms letting a little laugh escape her lips

   Later, at night, everybody was preparing to sleep. They put some blankets on the grass to make it more comfortable. Kathy was helping Gally to arrange his own space to sleep.

“Well, today was a busy day with many new things to you. I believe you are still confused, but try to rest as much as you can, okay? Tomorrow you’ll help Alby building, so, you’ll need a lot of energy.”

Katherine left him alone, took a look at every glader saying goodnight to them. Then, she finally reached Newt.

“Ready to sleep?” she asked sweetly

“Even sleeping all day and stayed here for weeks I feel my body is ready for another nap.”

“You know you can count on me, don’t you? You’re not alone Newtie.” she said stroking his hair

“I can tell the same to you. Do you think I didn’t notice that you haven’t slept well? I can see the dark circles in your eyes getting darker each day.”

“It’s just light insomnia, there is nothing for you to worry I swear that everything will be okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, little brother.”

   Doesn’t matter how much Gally tried, he couldn’t sleep. There were so many thoughts in his head. He wanted to remember something so hard about his previous life, but he couldn’t. The strange noises from the didn’t help too. It was like monsters were outside. Even doing so much effort he couldn’t hold and tears started to stream down his face. His cry could be heard if someone was very close to him. He didn’t want the other boys to see him like that.

“Hey, are you alright?” someone whispered in his ear

He got really scared, his eyes widened, and wiped the tears away as fast as he could. He shrunk as much as he could so she couldn’t see what had happened.

“I’m great, just can’t sleep.”

Katherine walked until she was in front of him. She laid next to him, hold his face, and wiped his cheeks.

“You don’t have to be ashamed; I’ll not tell anyone if it makes you feel better. When it was my time, I was scared too, even more at night when the grievers walk freely in the maze.”

“Grivers?”

“Yep, they are the maze’s monsters. I saw one a long time ago, it was not a nice experience.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Hum… you are number 8, so I’ve been here for 6 months. I was the second to arrive after Alby.

“You don’t remember anything too?”

“No. In fact, it took me 3 weeks to remember my own name, but I had been unconscious for 2.”

She saw he got confused.

“I arrived very injured; I was still conscious but when Alby took me out of the box I passed out. I stayed like this for 2 weeks and after one more I remembered my name. To be honest, I think I was not even trying to remember anything.

“Why? Didn’t want to remember your old life?”

“I believe that deep inside I felt it was better like this, not remembering anything.”

They kept looking at each other eyes for some minutes, without saying a word. Gally felt better now, she transpired a sensation of peace, that everything was okay now e that nothing could change it. He could even feel a little smile on his lips.

“It’s gonna be okay. Try to sleep, I’ll be here in case you need anything. Usually, on the first nights, we have nightmares, but I’ll be here to wake you up, alright?”

He nodded. She left a kiss on his forehead and started stroking his hair. When he fell asleep, she did it too. As incredible as it may seem, none of the two had any bad dreams.

   “Hey, wake up big boy!” Katherine whispered

It was really early, none of the gladers were awake yet.

“Can you stop calling me that?” he said scratching his eyes

“Alright picky boy. What do you want me to call you? Captain?”

“Just Gally is good.” he said getting up

“Okay, Sir Just Gally is good, follow me.”

Gally rolled his eyes and followed the stubborn girl. They stop in front of one of the stone walls. There were names carved in it, he could connect all of them to the guys he met yesterday, but only one was crossed out. George.

“What happened to him?”

“Remember when I said that I had seen one of the grievers and that it was not a nice experience? It was even lesser nice for him.”

She extended him a knife.

“There is a lot of space, you can choose whenever you want to put your name.”

“Why you do this?”

“Alby thought it was a funny way to count the time and it is also a way to make us think in everybody that is here and who are not anymore.”

He looked to the wall for a moment, passed his eyes in each name, there were not many of them. He started carving his own name and after 10 minutes it was done.

“Great. Welcome to the glade, Captain Gally.” she said giggling

Gally rolled his eyes but smiled. He felt good close to her. Maybe being stuck there was not so bad after all.

[razieltwelve]

Hide and Seek (RWBY AU Snippet)

Yang tilted her head to one side as she watched her twin daughters run around like headless chickens. Their cat ears twitched adorably as they looked behind potted plants, behind trees, and even underneath benches. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her.

“Okay, I have to know. What are you two doing?”

Li huffed. “We’re playing hide and seek with Gambol Shroud, but we can’t find her anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Alison grumbled. “She’s huge, but we still can’t find her. I bet she’s cheating.”

Yang bit back the urge to laugh. Not only was Gambol Shroud one of the laziest dragons she’d ever met she was also not above cheating in a game against a pair of five-year-olds. “You know, you’re probably right. I mean she is two hundred feet long. It’s not like it should be easy for her to hide.”

Li’s eyes narrowed ominously. “Gambol Shroud, I command you to show yourself!” she cried.

Nothing happened.

Yang ruffled Li’s hair. “Li, even your mom has a hard time dragging her out on missions, and she’s her rider. If it was up to her, I think Gambol Shroud would spend all of her time napping, eating, and lazing about in the sun.” She smiled. “But if you think Gambol Shroud is cheating, how do you think she’d doing it?”

“Wait…” Alison scowled. “She’s a shadow dragon, isn’t she?”

“Yep.” Yang waited for the twins to put the pieces together.

“She’s hiding in the shadows!” Li wailed. “And… and…” She looked about frantically. “There are shadows everywhere!”

“Exactly.” Yang chuckled. “Sure, it takes more power to hide in a small shadow, but Gambol Shroud is very strong. She can hide for a long time if she wants to, and unless you’re a master of shadow magic, you won’t be able to find her.”

“…” The twins stared at each other for a moment and then shook their fists at the sky. “She tricked us!”

“That’s kind of what she does,” Yang drawled. “Now, why don’t you go ask your mom to help you look?”

“Yeah,” Li said. “We will, and when we find Gambol Shroud, we’ll totally beat her up!” She cracked her knuckles.

“Li, you’re my daughter and I love you very much, so please don’t try to beat up Gambol Shroud. Not only will it not work but you’ll also break your hands if you try punching her.”

“I guess…” Li huffed. “Come on, Alison, let’s go find, mom. Maybe she can beat up Gambol Shroud.”

Once the twins had run off to find Blake, Yang wasn’t surprised when the shadows cast by a nearby hill stirred. Gambol Shroud emerged. The dragon rolled down the hill and flopped onto a patch of sunny grass nearby.

“You have got to be the laziest dragon ever,” Yang said. “And tricking children? Come on.”

It’s not my fault they’re gullible. Gambol Shroud yawned. And I’m sleepy. Last night, they wanted to see if they could climb up my back, and then they wanted to see if they could measure how long I was, and then they wanted me to take them flying, and then they wanted a story, and then they wanted another story, and then they wanted me to tuck them in, and then…

“Yeah, they can be pretty demanding,” Yang said. “They’re at the age when they’re just full of energy. You remember what that’s like, right?”

No. I’ve always been lazy. Gambol Shroud yawned again, revealing her massive teeth. I don’t know how Ember Celica deals with it. The solar dragon was circling overhead, her scales gleaming in the sun. Kids… so troublesome. I hope when I have hatchlings that they’re as lazy as I am. It’ll be such a hassle if they’re as energetic as yours.

“We call them children not hatchlings,” Yang pointed out. 

Hatchlings, children, it’s all the same. Gambol Shroud closed her eyes and sank back into the shadows. Get me if there’s trouble. Otherwise, I’m having a nap.

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Good, old Gambol Shroud. So lazy.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

You can find my original fiction on Amazon here.

[atc74]

A Hundred and Eight Things

Square Filled: De-Aged for @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Flannel for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Fem receiving oral sex, smidge o’angst, fluff 

Summary: Dean has a thing for his girl’s bare nether regions but when she gets cursed by a witch, it changes Dean’s perspective about things. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3334 (I almost took out a word so it could be 3333!)

Written for: @spnkinkbingo @spngenrebingo 

Beta’d by: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt, thank you!

A/N: This is set in S8 before the trials and before the angels fell from heaven. Starts with some sexy smut off the bat, but then shit gets real. 

Wonder what Dean smells like? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker for the next level fan experience! 

“I am so glad Sam stayed home,” Y/N moaned as Dean ran his tongue across her jaw.

“Can we not talk about my brother while I am trying to get you naked?” Dean quipped, nipping at the sensitive skin of her throat.

“I am just so happy to have you all to myself,” she replied, pulling his face up to meet hers. “Like so happy I shaved, just for you baby.”

Dean didn’t waste any more time. He shimmied down her body, pulling at her clothes until she was finally bare before him. “God, you know how much I love your fucking bare pussy. So baby smooth. So pretty and perfect…” His fingers trailed down one side and up the other and her hips bucked in response. “So fucking sensitive. So receptive...”

He made himself comfortable between her spread legs like he was at home. And he really was. Dean loved her snatch. He loved fucking it, fingering it. But most of all, Dean loved eating it. He loved eating her out until she screamed his name. Until she couldn’t move. Until she begged him to fuck her.

A single swipe of his tongue from hole to clit had her aching, throbbing for more. She felt the need down to her toes as they curled against the cheap motel bedspread. Dean’s tongue explored her nether regions like no other had before him. He knew what made her tick. He knew what would get her off the quickest. He knew when she needed it fast and dirty and when she wanted it slow and steady. Dean Winchester had ruined her for all other men.

Dean pulled back slightly, his thumbs splitting open her lips and he just stared, admiring the smooth, glistening skin. Sliding his thumbs up, he fully exposed her clit, blowing his breath across it and he watched it twitch with anticipation. He flicked his tongue over it once, twice, then circled it for good measure, knowing she preferred a little more pressure on her right side. Within minutes, she was screaming and everyone in the crappy motel knew his name.

~*~

“Y/N! Watch out!” Dean shouted, taking aim at the witch as Y/N went down. He pulled the trigger, hitting the witch right between the eyes. He checked to make sure she was down for good and rushed to Y/N’s side.

“Sweetheart, you gotta wake up for me, okay?” Dean pulled her into his arms, cradling her body to his. He lightly slapped the side of her face, trying to get her to open her eyes.

She groaned, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked, trying to focus on Dean’s face as it came into view. “What happened?”

“Freaking witches is what happened!” Dean sat next to her on the bed. “You feel okay? I didn’t catch everything she said, but then you were out for the count before I ganked her.”

“Yeah. A little fuzzy, but I feel fine,” she assured him. “Can we go home?”

“Already packed up. Just waiting on your lazy ass to get outta bed,” Dean joked, glad to have his girl back.

The drive home was short with the hunt only a couple hours from the Bunker. Dean eased Baby into her stall in the garage and carried their bags to their room. After a quick shower and supper, they hunkered down in bed with a movie and a mountain of pillows. The end credits rolled as they both softly snored side by side.

~*~

A scream, more like a wail, woke Dean from sleep. He was upright, gun in hand, sweeping the room, but saw nothing a miss in the bedroom, no potential threat. The wailing continued, however, as Dean stepped around the bed and to the door, throwing it open. Sam was rushing down the hall, gun also drawn.

“What the hell is that and where is it coming from?” Dean demanded, his face contorted as the shrillness of it hit his sleep raddled brain.

“It’s coming from your room, Dean,” Sam said, cautiously stepping inside and made his way to the bed.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered as Sam threw back the covers. There, nestled among the pillows Y/N had to have, was a very small, very angry, crying infant in Dean’s favorite Zeppelin tee. Dean handed his weapon over to his brother and picked up the red faced infant, cradling it to his bare chest and the crying ceased, replaced by small whimpers.

“You said Y/N got nailed with the witch’s spell, right?” Sam asked, looking at the baby in his brother’s arms. “I’ll hit the books. Do you remember anything she said before you shot her?”

“Yeah, a few. Let me get dressed and we’ll meet you out there,” Dean told Sam. Sam left the room, closing the door behind him. Dean dressed quickly in sweats and his robe, before grabbing one of his flannels that was her favorite. As he walked out to the library to meet Sam, he called Cas.

“Hey Buddy, we-ah, we need you back here, pronto. But I am going to text you a list of supplies I need you to pick up on the way. Probably Wal-mart or Target, whatever you can find,” Dean informed the angel. “Yeah, long story.”

He shot off a text to Cas before joining his brother. Dean stood on the opposite side of the table form Sam, with Y/N curled into his still bare chest. He covered her backside with the flannel, using it as a makeshift blanket.

“Okay, what do you remember?” Sam looked up at his brother. It was odd, seeing him holding the baby that was now Y/N until they figured it out. But what struck Sam, was how organic it looked. Dean wasn’t freaking out, he was completely calm and looked at peace with her in his arms.

“Infans, nova satus, initium novum, pura anima mea,” Dean recalled as his brother started furiously taking notes.

“Dean, I don’t think it was the witch’s intent to curse Y/N based on what you just repeated. The witch probably thought she was doing her a favor. A fresh start, a pure soul, a new beginning. This sounds like she wanted to give Y/N a new life and not end up a hunter,” Sam looked back up at Dean, his eyes turning soft at the sight.  

“What?” Dean looked back at his brother.

“You just, you just look comfortable, happy even,” Sam theorized. “Do you even realize you are rocking her? Swaying side to side like that?”

Dean looked back down at Y/N asleep on his chest. He had ceased his movement momentarily, but hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. He shrugged and resumed, hoping she would stay asleep until Cas arrived.  

And as if on cue, Dean heard the flutter of wings in the war room. He turned to see Cas with two shopping carts full of supplies. Dean handed Y/N off to Sam and grabbed several bags from the cart, along with the baby detergent and headed down the hall. Sam and Castiel stared after him.

Dean took Y/N back from Sam as she started to stir. He had pulled a diaper out of the pocket of his robe and slipped it under her, quickly covering her tiny bottom with it. He took a seat in one the reading chairs and produced a bottle. He looked down at her and placed the nipple in her mouth. She started eating and Dean breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why is Y/N an infant?” Cas questioned.

“Freaking witches,” Dean said, his voice higher than usual as he made faces at the baby while she fed.

“Curse hit her before Dean took out the witch. But it changed her overnight, even after the witch was killed. So now we gotta figure out what we’re dealing with and see if there is a reversal,” Sam explained to Cas.

“And all the things you had me buy?” Castiel looked back to Dean.

“Y/N has needs. It doesn’t matter if she is a grown woman or a baby, it’s my job to fulfill those needs and protect her. Babies need diapers and food and blankets and clothes,” Dean informed the socially awkward angel. He took the now empty bottle and placed it on the small table before placing Y/N over his shoulder. He patted her back a few times when she burped. “Good girl.”

“How does a sound that big come out of something so small?” Sam marveled, still watching his brother and Y/N.

“Uncle Sammy and Uncle Cas don’t know anything about babies, do they?” Dean giggled with her and she smiled up at him. “Someone needs a diaper change.” He rose and walked over to the carts yet to be unloaded. He rifled through the bags with one hand until he found what he needed then returned to the library, laying Y/N down on her back.

Dean Winchester was one of the most fierce and feared men in the supernatural world. Monsters ran from Dean Winchester. Sam observed his brother, shirtless and in his dead guy robe, leaning over the table and making the most ridiculous faces and noises at a baby. And she was loving it, her tiny giggles filled the cavernous space with a light that hadn’t been there before. Sam laughed in spite of himself and the situation.

Sam had helped Dean setup the portable crib in his room along with a baby monitor. Dean made coffee and they hit the books again. They called everyone they knew. Even Garth was running down information. After what felt like days of research, Sam and Cas took off on a lead, leaving Dean to care for Y/N on his own, which he didn’t mind in the slightest.

While Sam and Cas were gone, his days consisted of turning classic rock songs into lullabies, warming bottles, changing diapers and spoon feeding rice cereal and carrots to Y/N as she laughed and made a mess. After playtime, they would both take a nap then repeat the process. Rocking her to sleep became his favorite ritual.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Dean asked the little pink bundle in his arms. It was the third night and they were both tired, but Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling and filled with wonder as one of her tiny hands grasped at his face. “I know you do, but since you can’t talk, I’m going to tell you a little bedtime story.

“I had been living with Lisa and Ben, trying to live a normal life like Sammy wanted. But then Sam was back and I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t live that life without my brother. After we got Sam’s soul back, things were normal as they get for us. Saving people, hunting things...you know the drill. Anyway, the new big bad arrived and we had no idea how to take her down. Eve. Such a pretty name for such an evil bi-oops, lady. Turned out we needed the ashes from a Phoenix, but no one had seen one for several decades.

“We had been digging around in the Campbell's secret bunker and I found a book, a journal. A journal that belonged to Samuel Colt. His journal entry said he killed a Phoenix with his gun. With The Colt. Cas sent us back to 1861 to Sunrise, Wyoming to catch up with Colt and get the gun to kill the Phoenix and bring back it’s ashes to gank Eve.

“This Phoenix was stirring up trouble, burning anyone who had been involved with his wife’s murder. The judge, the sheriff, the deputy. I was playing sheriff when you strolled into my office with the Colt on your hip. You were stunning. I had never met any woman like you. You were a hunter and Colt’s niece and I thought I had died and gone to heaven and I didn’t even know you.

“We killed the Phoenix, but as we tried to gather the ashes, you by my side, Cas yanked us back. My first thought wasn’t that I didn’t get the ashes, but that I had lost you. Until you ended up back in our world and helped us defeat Eve. I knew you were it for me. I begged Cas not to send you back, but in the end, it was you that convinced him to let you stay.”

Dean stopped rocking and realized that Y/N was fast asleep, suckling on her fist. Dean gently laid her on her back in the portable crib and tiptoed out of the room. He rummaged through the kitchen for a snack, prepared a couple more bottles, and shuffled back to his room. He didn’t sleep as well without Y/N in his bed, but she was sound asleep and safe in the crib next to him and for now that would be good enough until he had the full grown Y/N back in his arms.  

With the newly installed infant carrier in Baby’s backseat, Dean and Y/N drove through the quiet streets of Lebanon. They stopped at the thrift shop where he found her some great second hand toys, stopped by the post office and finished their adventure with a lunch at the diner.

“Dean! I didn’t know you have a daughter! She’s beautiful, looks just like her mother,” Dorothy, the only waitress commented.

“Thanks Dot, but, uh, she’s not mine,” Dean replied, giving her his signature smile. “Just watching her for a few days.”

Dorothy clucked her tongue and walked away, clearly not believing him. Dean turned back to Y/N in her carrier next to him, his mind running away with him.

After their adventurous day, Y/N and Dean were pretty tuckered out and crashed as soon as they got home. When Dean woke up, he changed her diaper and made them a quick dinner. Rice cereal, sweet potatoes and peaches for little miss, while he had a sandwich. The simple domesticity of his life right now surprised him. He was quite comfortable with the routine they had and how easy he had acclimated to it. After picking up the kitchen, he gave Y/N a bath, making sure he got all the food out of her hair.

Dean was just sitting down to give her a nighttime bottle when the heavy door opened and closed, followed by heavy footfalls on the metal staircase. Sam entered the library with Cas.

“You are quite good with her, Dean,” Cas observed.

“She’s a good baby. It’s easy,” Dean told him, smiling down at her as she ate.

“Uh, Dean? We’ve got everything we need. Took four days and five different Wicca shops, but we finally figured it all out,” Sam commented, setting everything on the table. “We need some of her hair. Just a few strands should do.”

“Let me just put her to bed and I’ll be back,” Dean finished feeding Y/N, burped her and he walked down the hall to put her to bed. She yawned sleepily, then grabbed his face with both of her tiny little hands, pulling him closer to her.

“I know Sweetheart. Me too,” Dean placed a gently kiss to her forehead and put her in her crib, covering her lightly with his flannel that had become her favorite blanket. “I’ll see you in the morning, Y/N.”

Dean slowly walked back down the hall to the library. He was excited to get his Y/N back, but the last four days with baby Y/N made him realize a metric ton of shit. Things he never thought much about before because he was a hunter. He had a shit life and didn’t need a bunch of pipe dreams clogging his thoughts, distracting him from the job.

He passed Sam the strands of Y/N’s hair he had plucked from her head. She had barely made a fuss, like she knew it was a good reason. Sam took the hairs gingerly from his brother and added them to the bowl as Cas finished adding the rest of the spell components. Sam recited the spell and dropped a lit match in the bowl. A plume of pure white smoke rose into the air.

“Thanks guys. For doing all this for her. For both of us,” Dean hugged his brother and bid them goodnight.

He picked Y/N from the crib and placed her gently in the bed. He didn’t want her to wake up in the portable crib. He placed all the extra pillows around the edge before he laid down next to her. He picked up her little hand and she wrapped it around his finger. He stroked the smooth skin on the back of her hand. He knew she would be back to normal in the morning, but he was going to miss baby Y/N. He hummed her a lullaby, gently coaxing himself into slumber.

Warm breath fanned across his face like a summer breeze. Dean took a deep breath and his head was filled with Y/N. His eyes shot open and there she was. All grown up and wearing his flannel that he had covered her with the night before.

“Oh thank god! I missed you so much!” Dean pulled her into his arms, crushing her with the strength of his embrace. “I love you.”

“Dean! ...need to breathe…” she gasped.

He released her, holding her at arms length. She was so beautiful and he was grateful to his brother and Cas for returning her to him.

“Baby, we were just on a hunt the other day. I feel like I’ve been asleep for days!” She stretched lazily next to him. “And I’m starving!”

“Yeah, about that. Witch’s spell turned you into a baby,” Dean gave her the cliff notes version. “Come on, you make coffee and I’ll make some breakfast.”

Over breakfast, Dean relayed the events from when he ganked the witch until the night before. Y/N listened intently, not believing what she had heard. They cleaned up and washed the dishes together, like many times before. But Dean couldn’t help but notice how it felt different this time. He leaned over and kissed her for the first time in days. He pushed her up against the sink as things quickly heated up.

Dean started unbuttoning his flannel, the shirt falling from her bare shoulders to the floor. He watched it pool around her feet and his eyes followed the long lines of her legs until he reached his favorite spot. Her beautiful bare…

“Nope,” he threw his hands up and covered his eyes.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” She asked, concerned that something had happened since she had been away that changed his feelings for her.

“Y/N, I love you. I love all of you. Your mind, your heart and soul. And this beautiful body? Hell yes, but I need you to do one thing for me,” Dean looked her straight in the eye.

“Dean, I’d do anything for you. You know that,” she said solemnly, meeting his gaze.

“I need you not to shave for a while,” he muttered.  

“What? Why? You love my bald…” Dean cut her off, placing his hand over her mouth.

“Because for four days, I had to wipe and bath it. It’s different now. I don’t know how to explain it further. I’m sure it will pass,” Dean sighed, running a hand down his face.

“It’s okay Dean. I can do that,” she laughed, pulling him back to her. She pressed her naked body up against him. “Until it passes, I can think of a hundred and seven things we can do.”

“I think we should make a baby,” he blurted out.

“Make that a hundred and eight things,” she crashed her lips to his, a new fire lit inside both of them.

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[backoftheroomandnotbelonging]

Magic Mistletoe

Christmas Advent Challenge

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

As the drum of passion reduced its beat in her brain, Hermione’s senses were left soaring. Despite still being surrounded and overwhelmed by Draco, she didn’t fail to notice the silver sparks falling around them. She rose her head, breath heaving against Draco’s cheek and noses brushing, to look at the ceiling. Her eyes snagged and halted at the sight of the softness swaying in his eyes; once again feeling the breath knock from her lungs and the hammering desire to attach her lips to his.

He read her expression with ease and breathed a subtle laugh, but it too halted as he felt warm fingers hook under his chin. His Adam’s Apple bobbed. The skin in contact tingled and the dip between his collarbones throbbed; she could’ve done anything and he would have blindly allowed it. So overwhelmed with feeling that his rationality felt wrapped in a warm blanket, lazy. He tipped his head back, eyes following hers as she peered past him. Around them silver, almost white, sparks flittered - never touching nor harming them. They originated and fizzled from the glowing, glittering stems of the mistletoe, which was now shrinking back as it dissipated into flakes of light. Draco lowered his gaze to Hermione as she simultaneously lowered her hand to flatten against his chest. Tension filled his shoulders as he swam in the fear in her eyes: now there was no magical binding forcing their hand. Now, they were free to act as they wished, respond and correct this scene, as they wished.

Hermione felt Draco inhale deeply: the expansion of his ribcage pushed against her and helped her grasp with reality. He turned his face and assessed the audience in the Great Hall and Hermione followed a second later, ready to brave the storm. Her gaze desperately swept along the Gryffindor table for her best friends. Along the way she witnessed many a student stunned and rooted to their bench and others with laughter bubbling from them for her embarrassment. Ron had firmly planted himself back on the bench and was glowering, knuckles white around the knife he was holding. Hermione risked a look back to Draco before realising that Ron’s glare was intended for her. Guilt, shame and anger pitted itself inside her. He had always belittled and mocked her, laughed in her face as she faced personal adversity and now, they were here. Once she would’ve thought that his teasing and anger was jealousy, grasping for any shred of hope that his volatility wasn’t solely her personality’s fault, but she was wiser now and had learnt that some hope never should’ve been allowed. Her hard stare inspired him to loosen the murderous grip on his cutlery but hardened fury still hollowed his eyes. She scanned Harry’s posture and her mounting anxiety lessened as she ascertained the bewilderment on his features, ‘They’re both stubborn but if I could just explain then-‘ Her thought process was interrupted by a wail.

‘It seemed,’ Draco mused as he watched the Slytherin table, ‘that Pansy had to be physically restrained.’ As though Pansy could hear Draco she shrieked and wrestled against Blaise who, try as he might, was attempting to settle her back on her chair. Draco smirked as he imagined whatever Nott has hissed across the table that got her to settle down. The colour draining from her face and her quick acceptance of his instruction made Draco wonder to what extent of her wrath would he suffer. He supposed that whether or not anything happened, he could always hold Pansy’s disgracefully unladylike behaviour against her as a way to turn down her advances. His gaze fluttered back to Hermione as she furrowed her brow deciphering the reactions and repercussions her friends were bound to ambush her with. He softened. Glancing once again upon his housemates he found Crabbe and Goyle immersed in their meals (he doubted they’d ever strayed) and Blaise and Nott smirking. He mentally rolled his eyes as his lips began to quirk, ‘The sods have known all along! Well at least I’ll have some ranks for when the snakes close in.’

The slouch of his chest alarmed her. Her head began to swivel to meet his, yet her eyes stumbled upon a glittering exchange upon the Heads’ Table. Dumbledore, eyes twinkling more so than usual, shifted to withdraw several gold coins. Puzzled, she followed them as he proceeded to unceremoniously plant them Madame Pomfrey’s outstretched palm. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as mortification seeped through her. She had been so careful, on all the occasions – never once had Madame Promfrey seen them, she had made sure of it. A grave realisation heaved in her stomach as she frantically thought back to all the scuffles and mishaps that had resulted in their sacredly worrisome moments behind the curtains of the infirmary.

Draco had also seen the bet being paid and, for a millisecond, assessed the whole situation as a set up. Dismissing the notion, a grin stretched across his face as his shoulders shook and his eyes glazed over. The recognition of being caught out would’ve stoked an anger within him but he found himself too enthralled in the woman beside him to care. He watched as Hermione resettled her eyes upon him. His amusement grew as he watched her mouth contort from a shocked circle into a replica grin. The uncertainty faded from her eyes as they also filled with the same unspeakable emotion that welled in his. Apparent opposites had found common ground and attachment in each other. Hermione fed off Draco’s energy and, seeing that he wasn’t tense or surly, lifted her hopes and spirits. So they soared, carrying each other higher, while the Hall had settled again to watch the interaction, biding for the tension to reach its peak.

“I suppose they know now,” smirked Draco, once he had regained control of his emotions enough to change his expression.

Hermione dropped her head onto his shoulder and breathed out a giggle. The weight of her settled against the crook of his neck never ceased the sprawl of his smirk. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks and neck, only cooling when Draco’s colder fingertips brushed her curls from her shoulder. She peeked from his shirt as her heart raced at the gesture. He rolled his neck, dropping his face to pepper kisses along her cheekbone and she grasped at his shirt collar. Heat rushed back to her, magnetising her, as she sucked in a breath. Simple, domestic gestures – something neither had experienced or been open in seeking before – filled their soul with such purity and light that they, wrapped in each other’s arms, were content.

It was common knowledge to anyone in the wizarding world that Hogwarts was the safest place: a trustworthy place, a place that held many secrets. Some of which had lasted centuries, others had never really been secret at all. But ultimately, no matter its nature or importance, Hogwarts and the very magic woven between the stones decided when those secrets came to light.

Today, Hermione and Draco’s time ran out. Or...had it just begun?