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adarlingwrites · 3 years ago

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Leave it to the Wind

Summary: Between deadlines, an awful transport system, and aswangs lurking about in the shadows, you have much to worry about as a college student in Manila, and it's so much that your social life is practically dead. Your wind people roommates want to help you remedy that.

Words: 9343

Relationships: The Kambal/Reader (Crispin/Reader/Basilio)

Warnings: Adult content, alcohol, brief scene of sexual harassment

Author’s Notes: God, the fandom is so thirsty for the Kambal, and so am I. Finally, some Filipino himbo representation.

The premise is: Hannah and Amie decides to play matchmaker. Hilarity ensues. Smut ensues. Please be nice, I based the characterizations of the character on the Netflix series and Trese wiki pages since I couldn't get my hands on the original comics yet oof. Some words, like terms of endearment and curse words, will remain in Filipino. Translations are provided. Reader is AFAB and is referred to with female pronouns.

Reposting this from AO3 with all three chapters in one post. A Filipino (Taglish) translation is in the works!

You don’t know how they managed to convince you, to be honest.

You rarely ever go out at night anymore. So many strange incidents transpire in Manila’s narrow streets. Just recently, you’ve heard of a new story about a tikbalang who allegedly participated in illegal street races.

So when your roommates and friends Amie and Hannah invited you for a night out, you hesitated. You gave them every excuse you can think of; you needed to do laundry, you needed to study, you needed to finish a project, and so on.

You know that the two of them are wind people, but you can’t help but think. Which of the various stories you had been hearing are real? What else in this world you haven’t witnessed yet?

“Aw, you’re such a buzzkill! Pretty please? You don’t go out with us as often. Enjoy yourself a little,” Amie whines, lying on the sofa of your living room.

On the other hand, Hannah turns to you with a mischievous grin on her face. “C’mon, get dressed already,” she commanded. “There are some total hotties we’d like you to meet! One of them might catch your eye!”

“I told you, I don’t need a relationship. You two try this every week. How do you even know so many people?” you retort, laughing softly at yourself.

“Well, our night lives are active,” Hannah retorted. “Don’t forget our sex lives!” the other added. Hearing those words, you felt your face get flushed with heat.

You needed a good fuck.

“Damn it, fine! As long as you pay for me.”

They finally got you to say yes.

As the night went on, you went to several bars, and you swore that you had explored every crevice of the city. It doesn’t help that the guy Amie and Hannah were with, a tall, dark and handsome man with flowing locks of black hair, drove like a demon. You got around quickly in no time.

Around an hour after midnight, you’re all exhausted from a night of dancing and mingling. None of the people your friends introduced to you caught your attention. At that point, you just wanted a stiff drink to unwind.

Voicing it to your drinking buddies, they nod in agreement.

“I know just the place, in Malate,” the man you’re with said. “Quiet. Discreet. I can take you there, if you want.”

“You mean The Diabolical, right? Let’s go! Text Crispin and Basilio, they might be hangin’ there too,” Amie croons.

A chuckle escapes your lips upon hearing their names. “Huh? Were they named after the characters in Jose Rizal’s novel?”

“I think so? Whatever! But seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!”

The remark made you laugh so hard, you swore you can be heard in the next city. “What the fuck! Amie, gaga ka, Sisa was their mom! The context of that scene was rough.”

Hannah’s mischievous grin spreads on her face once more, and she gently elbows your side. “Well, if you’re lucky, in this context you’d be crying their names while your eyes roll to the back of your head.”

You’ll never admit it, but you had hoped all their teasing would come true.

It didn’t take long for the four of you to reach your destination. As you enter The Diabolical, a strange chill envelopes you. The air feels different inside; it’s almost as if you stepped in a different world. Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but when you looked around, you saw a duwende sitting by the bar. Or was it called a nuno? At the end of the bar, you saw them; two men both dressed in black suits. One has short hair, while the other one has longer, reaching past his shoulders. However, they’re facing away from you. Only the back of their head and part of their cheeks were visible where you stood.

You snapped out of it when the man you three are with spoke up. “I’m gonna call it a night. Have fun, you three.”

“For real? Wow Maliksi, this is the first time I ever saw you wanting to leave early. Aren’t you gonna stop by and say hi to Alex?” Hannah asks him.

“Maybe next time,” Maliksi answers back, a somber expression on his face. “Oh em gee, did you two fight? Wait, what are you two?” Amie asks.

“Whatever. It’s complicated. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Your friends nodded and let Maliksi be. He waves at your group, and heads out the door. The engine of his car roars to life, and his car screeches away.

As the car moved farther away though, it seems that the screeching of the tires turned into hoofbeats.

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

“Amie! Hannah! Have a drink! Hey, who’s that with you? Is that the person you’ve been wanting us to meet for ages now?”

Your head turns to where the voice was coming from; one of the men in the suits, the one with short hair in particular. You finally had a good look on their faces.

Twins?

“Crispin! Meet our friend! This is…”

As Amie and Hannah introduce you to the Twins, you can’t help but stare. You took the sight of their features in; they’re tall, with broad shoulders, and hard muscle underneath that black suit and white tie ensemble. They have wide noses with a high bridge, prominent bone structure, and a prominent widow’s peak.

Merciful Bathala, they’re gorgeous.

What caught your attention the most are their eyes. They're pitch black, save for the small reflection of light.

Are these people even human?

“Stare at them like that any longer and they might melt,” Amie teases. The two of your friends are giving you an ear-splitting grin due to your reaction to the Twins.

“I, uh-” you stuttered, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Hey, don’t be shy. You can sit between us, miss. We’re all friends here,” the twin with the longer hair says. If the other one is Crispin, then this must be Basilio.

Behind you, your friends are already giggling. They took their places next to the twins and leaned on their biceps. Across from you, the bartender comes to take your order.

“What’ll it be, kid?” he asks.

For some reason, you’re panicking. Maybe it’s because of the alcohol in your system. Or maybe it’s because you’re sandwiched between the twins. “Uh, what would you recommend, manong?”

Laughter erupted from the twins. “Hank, she called you manong!” Basilio teases while grinning like a fucking dog. “Geez, are you really that old?” Crispin eggs him on, giving him a shit-eating grin. Hank takes a wet rag he uses to wipe down the countertop and strikes the two down. “You goddamn assholes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing with them.

“Ow! Alright, we’re sorry, we’re sorry. Get them the best seller, Hank. We’ll pay for their tab,” Basilio says, and Hannah and Amie squeals with joy.

“Oh em gee, you boys are so sweet! Thank youuu!”

As Hank prepares you a drink, you try conversing with the twins. “You two seem fun to have as drinking buddies.”

Hank turns around to reach a bottle from the shelf. “Those two are mischievous little shits, that’s for sure. You know, when these two were kids...”

“Hey man, don’t embarrass us like that in front of our new friend,” Crispin whines.

While the three continues fucking around, you leaned back slightly to glimpse at Amie, who was trying to get your attention for a while now. She points to her phone, and you fetch yours from your bag.

You read your group chat with them. “Soooo, do you like, like them?” Hannah’s message said.

“You’re into them aren’t you? You got so shy around them, it’s so cute!” Amie’s message said.

“Right? It’s rare to see you so flustered!”

You typed away furiously at your phone, cautious to not let the twins beside you see the conversation.

“Well, they’re an improvement from the ones you introduced me to earlier. Easier on the eyes, too…”

Your friends giggled, and as their drinks arrived, they stood up. “Girl, we’re gonna leave you with them, there’s some super hot tikbalangs who just came in the bar. Byeeee!”

“Hey, wait!”

They didn’t heed your words and went to sit on the tikbalangs’ laps.

Fuck, tikbalangs are real? Is Maliksi a tikbalang too?

“And off they go, flirting with those beasts after they’ve used us for drinks,” Crispin laments, voice dripping with light-hearted sarcasm.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we got used by them though,” Basilio adds, cringing.

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

Basilio’s head whips towards you, sweat gathering on his brow. “Seriously?! Shit, what did they say about us?”

“All good things, don’t you worry,” you answered.

“Nah, I need to hear what they said word for word,” the twin with long hair responds. “This is making me paranoid!”

Crispin moves closer to you, Basilio puts a friendly arm around your shoulder, and you can only smile. All of you are inebriated and if you were sober, and if someone else dared to get this close to you, you might’ve slapped them. But you feel good about the Twins, and your roommates never put you in harm’s way, so your trust for them extended to the brothers, somehow.

“Just tell us already,” Crispin slurs. “Tell us what they said about us. We’re curious.”

“Fine, fine. Okay, Amie and Hannah mentioned your names when Maliksi suggested that we head here to drink. Then, I mentioned that your names came from Rizal’s novels.”

“Then Amie said,” you continued, pausing briefly to come up with an impression of your roommate’s speech. “‘Seriously though… Those two can totally make you scream their names louder than Sisa ever did! Best lay I ever had!’ Fuck, it was so messed up!”

“That’s messed up, alright,” Basilio sputters, his face a deep shade of crimson. “I’m this hot and those are the only details they can spare?!”

“Ok, but that Sisa joke was kind of funny though. But it was still fucked up,” Crispin adds, and he takes a sip of his drink.

“Hold your horses, the story’s not done yet,” you say. You’re starting to feel more confident around the two.

Your conversation went places, until you found yourselves drinking until three in the morning, and at that point, it’s only just the four of you in the bar; Hank, the Twins, and you. Even Hannah and Amie are nowhere to be seen. Knowing them, they probably took the tikbalangs they were flirting with back to your apartment.

They didn’t even wait for you. Looks like they’re really setting you up tonight. Maybe they wanted the apartment to themselves tonight, and they got exactly what they wanted.

You had planned on getting up to go to the restroom, but when you tried standing up, you almost fell from the chair. The Twins caught you before you landed face first against the floor.

“She’s had enough to drink,” Hank comments. They set you on a chair with a backrest. “How will she get home? We can’t send her off in a cab at this rate. The train doesn't run this late either.”

“Hannah left her behind too,” Crispin adds.

“Hey, how are we gonna deal with this?” Basilio asks. “We can get you home once we sober up a little. It’s fine if you-”

Basilio never got to finish what he was going to say, because you nodded off against his stomach, and puked your lunch out.

You don’t remember anything after that.

When you awaken, the sun is already high up, and the first thing that greets you is the fan in the ceiling. Your muscles are screaming at you, and your throat feels dry. Memories of last night came crashing back and you started sweating in horror. Maybe it’s just a drunken dream, but it felt all too real.

You were flirting with these gorgeous twins, had too much to drink, and at some point puked all over one of the twins’ shoes.

And now, you don’t know whose bedroom you are in. You check yourself, and you’re still wearing the same clothes, with nothing out of place. There are no bruises or marks on your body either. You looked around you, but there was no one else in the room.

The doors crack open slightly, and you see two pairs of void-black eyes.

“I… um… good morning?”

“It’s… already 2 in the afternoon,” one of them says. He has long hair. This one is the twin you threw up on.

“Why don’t you have some lunch?” the other one said.

You just nodded and said nothing else, ashamed of yourself. You threw up on one of them and now you’re eating at their table. You just wanted the ground to swallow you alive.

“Sorry for puking on you last night,” you near-whispered to Basilio after you swallowed your first bite of food.

The silence broke when Crispin roared with laughter, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. Meanwhile, Basilio was glaring daggers at his brother. He’s frowning like a child whose toy got taken from him. “Sure, keep laughing, kuya.”

“I’ll never show my face here again, I promise,” you say to them, hiding your face behind your hands.

“What’re you talking about? Forget about it. We’re friends now, right?” Basilio tells you, smiling. “But next time, vomit on my brother too.”

“No one’s throwing up because I won’t be allowing any of you to get wasted that bad ever again,” Hank announces as he enters the room with a carafe in his hand. “Bossing’s not gonna like it if the bar ends up smelling as bad as Basilio’s room. Here, have some coffee.”

“We should introduce you to bossing next time too. She’s not here at the moment,” Crispin adds. “Let’s do this again next week.”

The invitation made you smile, and you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You continued eating the rest of your meal.

“...my room doesn’t smell that, right?” Basilio asks after a few moments of silence.

“Gago, it stinks so bad. It’s why we made the guest stay at my room, because if she stayed at yours she could’ve died from how bad it is,” Crispin exclaims. “Seriously, how can you live with bringing women to your room at that point?”

“Kuya, you’re embarrassing me to our guest!”

Translations for non-Filipino speaking folks:

bossing: a somewhat affectionate way to say “boss”. Comes from the old tradition of adding -eng or -ing to ones name to make a nickname, e.g. Luciana - Lucing

Gago/gaga (ka): (you) idiot/moron - someone stupid, foolish or ignorant

Tikbalang: creature from Filipino mythology similar to a centaur. They are hulking beasts with a horse's head.

manong: a term for endearment to an elderly male relative, or elderly men in general. Originally an Ilokano term referring to the first born son in a nuclear family.

kuya: big brother. Can be used to refer to one's own older brother, someone else's older brother, or an older peer or male acquaintance.

Author’s Notes: This chapter was heavily inspired by Bita and the Botflies' song Manghuhula.

Warnings: brief scene of sexual harrassment

After washing up, the Twins accompanied you to the gate, exchanging glances at each other behind your back. Little did they know, you definitely noticed it.

“Wait,” Basilio says, tapping your shoulder lightly with a large hand.

Crispin takes his phone out of his pocket. His younger brother proceeds to do the same. “Give us your phone. We’ll add our numbers, and you can text us if something happens,” he says.

“Or when you get home safe,” Basilio adds.

You look at the two of them back and forth. “This isn’t just an elaborate excuse for the two of you to get my number, right?”

Neither of the two spoke, giving each other a nervous glance.

Their reaction made you laugh out loud, and you took out your phone from your bag. “Here. I’ll give you my Facespace too.”

With the tension broken, the three of you exchange a chuckle. You punch in your number in their phones, while they did the same to yours. Crispin looks over his brother’s shoulder and frowns.

“Epal,” Crispin says to his brother, snatching your phone away from him. The older twin types something in, and it’s the younger one’s turn to stick his nose in. Basilio attempts to get the phone back, cursing all the time.

“You’re going to break her phone, gago,” the older twin curses, pushing a palm against Basilio’s face. “Then let it go! You’re the epal, I wasn’t done yet,” the younger one snaps back.

You give them a look of irritation, and check out what they’re arguing about.

“What the hell are you two grown-ass men fighting about?” you ask as you butt in to look at what they’re doing.

A loud snort bubbles from you as you see it; Basilio added “the hot twin” next to his contact name. Crispin added “the hotter twin”. Now, the former wanted to outdo his older brother.

Against your better judgment, you say, “You’re twins. You look like each other. You’re both hot. Now stop fighting over my phone.”

Perhaps it’s the afternoon heat, but there is a tinge of red in their cheeks after your remark. You waved them goodbye as you got in a tricycle that’ll get you to the nearest train station.

The MRT, in some strange miraculous twist of fate, isn’t as packed as usual. It’s still populated, but there were a few seats waiting to be taken. You sit down somewhere away from direct sunlight, and you take out your phone to tell Hannah and Amie that you’re on the way home.

The first thing you see is a text from Basilio. Then, a text from Crispin. You tell them both that you’re on the train now, completely forgetting about messaging your roommates. To pass the time, you launch the Facespace app and decide to look up their profiles, only to find out that they’ve already sent you a friend request.

Upon seeing Crispin’s profile, you did your damn best to stifle a laugh.

His work description says “works at the Krusty Krab,” but that wasn’t the craziest thing about his profile. At first, the Bible verse in his bio caught you off guard, thinking that someone like him didn’t seem religious, but when you quickly looked up “Ezekiel 23:20,” you did your best not to howl with laughter.

Basilio’s isn’t any better.

In his work description, he put “Model at For Her Magazine,” and “edi sa puso mo.” Then you scroll down to see a thirst trap of him pulling his shirt up with his teeth, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks again. Well, at least that work description is believable.

They’re- what was that term your younger university friends were using again?- himbos.

They’re definitely himbos.

Arriving at your place, you slot your key inside the doorknob and twist. As you enter the door, the heavy, musky scent of sex and sweat hits your face, and you regret getting too wasted last night and losing your chance to hook up with one of the Twins.

Or both.

Both?

Regardless, at least they’ve invited you again to hang out next week.

You raise your eyebrow and cross your arms at the scene before you. Cans of beer litter the living room, and your roommates are taking a nap by the couch. A tikbalang comes out of the bathroom, glamor off, and you snort as you watch him duck under the door frame because of his massive height.

“It’s already four in the afternoon. Time to go, big guy.”

He nods awkwardly in acknowledgment, morphing into his human disguise, and exiting your apartment.

You sit between your roommates, rousing them from their sleep. “I’m not going to clean this mess up,” you tell them, motioning to the trashed state of the living room, and reaching for the remote to turn the TV on. You just want to take a shower afterwards and sleep in your own bed tonight.

After rubbing the sleep from their eyes, your roommates near-tackles you on the couch, a curious, excited look on their faces. You forgot all about what you were watching and stared at them in surprise.

“So how did it go? Did you get to hook up with any of them?” Amie asks.

“Or both of them?” Hannah adds.

“Gaga, nothing like that happened.”

The two of them let you go with disappointed looks on their faces. “So sayang! Here we were thinking you finally have a sex life,” one of them says as you lean back on the backrest, closing your eyes as they continue to pester you for details.

“Why are you two so determined to get me to screw someone?” you finally snapped, amused and irked at the same time.

“Because you’ve been doing nothing but totally stressing yourself out! See how super fun it is to let go every now and then?”

“Thanks for the new drinking buddies, girls, but I have my fingers to keep me company. Hookups are too much work,” you lie to them, eyes still closed.

“That’s a toe-curling, full-body orgasm you’re missing out on, girl!”

“That’s assuming that the person I’m with knows what they’re doing,” you retorted.

One of them pokes your side with an elbow, and you assume it’s Hannah. “The Twins do.”

You opened your eyes, and you guessed right; it’s Hannah. You give her a look, before rolling your eyes, appearing to look disinterested. The smirk tugging at the edge of your lips says otherwise, though.

“So what happened last night?” Amie asks.

“I got wasted and threw up on Basilio’s shoes. Then, I ended up sleeping in Crispin’s room. When I woke up, they fed me and sent me home,” you tell them. Your roommates giggle at the story.

“Ah, speaking of which, I gotta let them know I got home,” you said off-hand, and somehow the remark only spurred your wind people roommates on.

“Yieee, you’re friends with them on Facespace already!” Amie quips, leaning in to see what you’re typing. Playfully, you move your phone away from her to conceal what you’re typing.

“Make a group chat with them!” Hannah exclaims, taking your phone away from you. You tried taking it back, but Amie joins in the mischief and blocks you from doing so.

When you got your phone back, the deed was done, and the chat was renamed to a single eggplant emoji. The like button was replaced by an eggplant emoji too.

Panicking, you add your roommates to the group to avoid looking suspicious, and swiftly type up a defense.

“Please ignore that, Hannah made this chat using my account.”

The teasing never stopped after that.

Weeks passed and you never bothered to change it, though.

It’s been about two months since your first encounter with the Twins. You’re becoming a familiar face at The Diabolical, going every Saturday to see them. Sometimes Hannah and Amie didn’t accompany you anymore. You’ve met the Twins’ bossing a few times, who turned out to be none other than Alexandra Trese. You’ve heard of her exploits and the two imposing bodyguards who were almost always with her. It surprised you that they’re none other than the Twins you knew, but it made perfect sense. Those two were jacked, and those muscles aren’t only for show.

Of course, because of your increasing presence in the bar, it didn’t take long for the rumors to circulate. Word on the street is both of the Twins had a thing for you, and neither is making a move out of consideration for the other. They are waiting for you to move.

You elected to ignore them, perfectly happy with your arrangement of having two handsome men to keep you company while you unwind. The thought of getting together with one of them, or even both of them did cross your mind a few times, however.

Ultimately, you wouldn’t know what to do if the day comes that you’ll have to confront how you feel and choose between the two.

Do you have to?

Crispin and Basilio are twins, but they’re distinct from each other. The older is more serious, with a dryer sense of humor, while the younger is goofier, and somewhat softer. One complements the other, and they’re both good company despite their differences.

Speak of the devil. Your phone buzzes and you see that the eggplant chat is active. The Twins are inviting you to The Diabolical again.

“See you guys at eight,” you type in. Someone reacts with an eggplant to your message. Then the next few messages were nothing but eggplant emojis, followed by Basilio sending “#TeamTalong”. Crispin cusses him out for it, but sends the same message right after.

Yeah, that became a thing among the five of you.

You and the wind girls got dressed and took a taxi to the bar, your favorite jacket draped over your shoulders. Pressured by your roommates, you wore something nicer tonight; a black faux leather dress that hugs your figure deliciously. The shiny fabric added to the effect. The six bottles of Pulang Tikbalang beer the three of you shared before going out might’ve contributed to your newfound bravado.

But now that you’re actually wearing it outside your apartment, you feel a little reluctant.

“Maybe wearing this is a bad idea,” you mutter to no one in particular, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear out of self-consciousness.

Amie taps you from behind. “Oh hush, that outfit is totally sexy,” she comments. “Finally ready to get dicked down tonight, girl?”

“Shhh, gaga ka, manong driver can hear you.”

That didn’t deter them from making more inappropriate comments, much to the manong's ire.

It’s nine already when you get there, you’re in the Philippines after all. The merriment is already in full swing when you step through the door. Hannah and Amie went ahead and sat next to their lay of the week. The Twins wave you over from their usual spot, but before you can reach them, a man you’ve never seen before tries to get your attention, snaking an arm around your waist.

“Hey baby. You’re a regular here, right? Want to drink with me?”

“Sorry, I’m here with someone else,” you tell him, moving away.

“Ah, here to see the Twins? Why don’t you ditch them for a change of pace and come with me, babe?”

“Not interested,” you flat out said. “Please move, or I’ll make you move.”

To your surprise, the man drops his glamor and reveals himself to be a kapre. He looms over you, cigar in his mouth, and you can feel the tension rising. People are starting to stare, and your friends took notice of it too.

“Try,” he huffs, puffing smoke to your face. You give him a sour glare while trying not to cough.

Before your roommates or the Twins could come to your aid, you panicked and saw an empty bottle of Pulang Tikbalang on a nearby table. Emboldened by the alcohol in your veins, you shatter the bottle and point the jagged edge at the hulking beast, hands shaking. You are a tiny thing compared to the enormous creature before you, after all.

“Don’t you dare look down on me.”

“Already doing that, honey.”

“I’m not your honey,” you say as you press the edge against his stomach, not enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt.

“I love it when they fight back,” the kapre croons.

Under the haze of alcohol, you were more than ready to shove the edge in, consequences be damned.

Before things could escalate, Crispin takes the broken bottle off of your hands and steers you away from the stranger, while Basilio steps in to defuse the tension. “Hey, why don’t you back off, pal? Our friend said no. You wouldn’t want us to tell our bossing to ban you from the place because of this misunderstanding now, don’t you?”

Heart in your throat, you turn to the Twins, then to the kapre. The tree giant pauses, looking at the three of you, then smirks.

“Heh. Fine. But if you torpe whelps don’t make a move, I will.”

The giant puts his glamor back on and skulks away.

“Wow, what a jerk! He only left you alone when the boys stepped in,” Hannah quips, tossing her hair in indignation.

“You almost didn’t need rescuing, but I’d hate to help Hank mop the blood off the floor later,” Basilio comments, nudging you gently with an elbow. His eyes go a little lower from your face, and you see him look away.

You realized Crispin hasn’t let go of you yet.

“C’mon, let’s just go,” you tell everyone. Crispin proceeds to remove his hand away from your shoulder, and you take your usual seats by the bar.

The bar is loud, but the silence between the three of you is deafening. Even Hank seems to have taken notice, eyeing your usually loud and cheerful group.

“What’s up with you three? What happened back there?” the older man asks, leaning over the bar top.

“Just a handsy kapre who couldn’t take no for an answer. I won’t let it spoil the night,” you answer him.

“That’s the spirit. Holler if he tries something like that again, I’ll have him kicked out,” Hank replies, setting down three ice-cold beers in front of you guys.

Yet somehow, the conversation never livened up.

Three bottles of Pulang Tikbalang later, you’ve had enough.

“This is about what that kapre said, isn’t it?” you finally say, slightly pissed.

The Twins look at each other with guilty expressions, and simultaneously nod.

“Do you boys wanna talk about it?”

They look at each other again. “Shit, this is awkward,” Crispin comments, scratching his head. Basilio nods in agreement, uncharacteristically silent. “We didn’t want to pressure you into anything you didn’t want to do,” the older twin continues.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin my relationship with my kuya just because we’re interested in the same girl,” Basilio says. “Same here,” Crispin adds.

“So we were waiting for you to make your own move,” Basilio continues.

“Ah. So the rumors are true,” you sighed.

“We’ll accept whatever outcome there is. If you choose me, or Basilio, or neither because this is fucking messy, we totally get it,” the older twin says, leaning back to stare at the ceiling.

Now the decision rests in your hands.

“Why don’t we talk about this somewhere more private?” you ask them.

You watch as both of them gulp. “Where do you wanna talk?” Basilio asks.

“Anywhere private.”

“I just cleaned my room earlier. Why don’t we continue this there?”

You nod, and they lead you away from the bar.

Looks like it’s going to be a long night.

Translations for non-Filipino speakers:

epal: in Filipino slang, usually refers to a person who inappropriately presents himself in a situation or butts into a conversation.

kapre: a tree-giant from Filipino mythology. Often described as very tall, dark, and hairy. Almost never seen without a cigar.

sayang: literally means waste. Can be used alone as an expression similar to "what a waste!"

torpe: someone who cannot spit their romantic or sexual feelings out to a crush or love interest

III

Author’s Notes:

Warnings: Smut. Filthy smut. Writer-is-definitely-going-to-the-second-circle-of-the-Seven-Circles-of-Hell-levels-of-filthy smut. Bawal bata, tulog na. If you're under 18 please turn back.

After the door closes behind the three of you, you sit on the bed, while Crispin sits on a chair near his brother’s desk. Basilio locks the door, and leans against it, unable to look at you.

“Right. So. How are we going to deal with this?” you ask them, crossing your legs.

“Don’t ask us,” Crispin says, swiveling the chair to face you. “You’re the one caught in the middle after all.”

Curse his choice of words.

“This is too weird,” Basilio speaks up. “If you want me to unlock the door, just say the word. We can walk out of this like nothing happened.”

“And then what? Things are going to be awkward between the three of us, I just know it,” you say to him, palming the back of your neck. “Things might get awkward with Amie and Hannah too, and I live with them. I don’t want our tropa to disband just because of relationship drama.”

“What about Amie and Hannah? Is it because we have history with those two?” Crispin asks.

“They’ve been trying to set me up with either of you. The fact that they also slept with you in the past also doesn’t help. Shit, this is messy.”

“Er, um,” Basilio stutters. “That might’ve been our fault.”

You furrow your brow and cross your arms. “Keep going.”

The Twins look at each other, as if gauging who should explain the situation. “So, we remained in contact after being used as a prize for bossing’s race with Maliksi, right?” Crispin starts.

“Uh huh.”

“Well, they mentioned a third roommate in passing and joked about lending us to her. Of course we blew them off, then Amie showed us a picture of you. We got curious and asked them to introduce you,” Basilio continues.

“I didn’t expect us five to become friends. And now we’re in this mess,” Crispin adds.

You look at them back and forth, and laugh in resignation. Elbows digging against your lap and palms pressed against your face, you rub your face and run it through your hair. “Amazing. Just amazing. See, I have a problem too.”

The Twins didn’t respond, eyes fixated on you.

“I like the two of you.”

You feel the air shift around you. Basilio’s standing upright by the door now, and Crispin straightened up too. The room is so quiet, you can hear them gulp in anticipation for what will happen next.

“There. I said it. The reason why I haven’t made a move at all is because of this exact moment that I was dreading. I didn’t want to choose,” you admit, feeling the blood rush to your head. “I just wanted for us three to stay like that, drinking buddies sprinkled with sexual tension.”

“And you’re in the middle, enjoying our attention,” Crispin says, crossing his arms.

“Selfish, I know,” you admit, head hanging low.

This is it, the moment that can make or break you three.

“Us three. If only...” you whisper, only for the words to fall flat on your tongue

You stand up, gathering your things and carrying your bag. “Nevermind. What a mess we’re in. I’ll go so you two can sort things out between the two of you. It’s been a fun ride.”

Basilio doesn’t move from the door, and behind you, you can hear Crispin getting up from his seat.

“We can still make this work, right kuya?” Basilio starts, looking over your head to give his brother a knowing look.

“Yeah, I think so,” Crispin replies. “What was that you said? The three of us?”

Your eyes widen, and you look at them back and forth. Their bodies are dangerously close to yours. Now you’re literally caught in the middle.

“I- uh…”

“I think we can work out an arrangement,” Basilio whispers, one hand moving to hold yours.

“Only if you want to,” Crispin adds, his breath kissing the back of your neck.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” Basilio adds.

“Same here.”

Damn it all.

Giving in to your darkest, most hidden desires, you lean in to capture Basilio’s lips with yours, leaving his black eyes wide open in surprise. They flutter close, and he savors the kiss, slipping a tongue in. Then you turn to Crispin, and you give him the same sweet kiss as well.

“Damn, I didn’t mean like, now,” Basilio mutters, feeling the front of his trousers get tighter as he watches you make out with his brother.

Bringing your attention back to the younger twin, you loosen his tie, while you push out your ass to grind against Crispin. “Are you complaining?”

“Not at all.”

“Wait, are you sure about this? All of us drank tonight… we don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” Crispin says, moving his hips away from you. Basilio pauses too, and wraps his hands around your wrists to still your hands, a look of concern on his face.

“Kuya’s right.”

“I’m a grown woman. I might’ve had a few bottles, but I know what I want,” you reassure them, waiting for the two to make a move. “I know I want you two for months.”

Basilio lets go of your hands and lets you do as you please, a cocky smirk on his lips. Behind you, you can feel Crispin’s gloved hands reaching for the zipper of your dress. “Really? How much do you want us? C’mon, say it,” Basilio asks, moving in to place kisses on your neck.

“I wanna hear it too,” Crispin whispers against your shoulder, and he punctuates it with a light kiss.

All of a sudden, you felt shy at the prospect of confessing your fantasies out loud. “Why don’t I just show you boys?”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one,” Basilio teases. “Consider it as payback for throwing up all over my shoes.”

“You’re still- ah!- mad about that?” you ask him, gasping in the middle of doing so when you felt a hand snake between your legs from behind. The older twin slips his fingers past your underwear, circling your clit with slow strokes.

“Not mad, I just want things to be fair,” Basilio teases, pulling your dress down. He gives your breasts a squeeze, fondling and rolling your nipples until they harden, and he seals his lips over your right one. Crispin moves from behind you and he takes his place next to his twin, lathing his tongue over the left. All four of their hands pawed at your flesh greedily.

You were at a loss for words because of how good they’re making you feel, soft moans bubbling from your throat.

“Speechless already, huh?” Crispin mumbles against your skin.

“Ngh! The wind girls weren’t lying, you two know what you’re doing,” you gasped, face flushed as you watched the Twins lavish their attention on your breasts.

“Shhh, stop changing the subject. Play along, or neither of us will make you cum,” he adds, pausing to give you a teasing lick, and resting his tongue on top of the hardened bud. On the other hand, Basilio is sucking like a starved babe while squeezing your still clothed behind.

You fake a scoff of indignation and grin. “Fine. I- oh fuck- want you two so much, I’ve been fantasizing for weeks.”

Basilio pauses to address you. “Describe them.”

You’re a little mortified, but the alcohol in your system pushes you to be bolder. “I imagined Basilio punishing me for ruining his shoes.”

“And how did he do that?” Crispin’s voice.

“He asked me to suck him off,” you start, and a pinch on your bottom from the subject of your fantasy tells you that he wanted to hear more details. “He fucked my face while pulling my hair and told me how good I was the whole time and that he forgave me.”

“What about me? What fantasies did you have?” Crispin asks again.

Your breath hitched in your throat but you pushed on. “Hearing how you scolded Basilio, I imagined you taking me from behind and saying the meanest, dirtiest things possible.”

The Twins looked at each other, and stopped, their lips leaving your breasts with a lewd pop. “You want to make them all come true?” Basilio asks.

Cheeks burning, you give them a curt nod.

The two of them lead you to the bed, where Crispin puts you on all fours, and he takes his place from behind. On the other hand, Basilio is standing near the edge of the bed, the bulge in his pants inches away from your face. You stare at it, licking your lips.

As you undid Basilio’s pants, he shrugs off his suit jacket and takes off his tie, then he takes off his dress shirt, revealing his abs and the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, disappearing into his briefs. From behind, you hear fabric shifting, then Crispin peels your panties off of you. He brings a gloved hand against your skin in a loud smack, making you cry out.

“Ah, wait, we need a safeword,” Crispin mentions, soothingly squeezing your skin.

“What about Eternos?” Basilio suggests, and Crispin cocks an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean, like the game?”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m fine with it,” you say to them, and they take it as a signal to continue.

The older twin dips a gloved finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, and tsked. “Look at you, already so fucking wet. You want this so much, huh?”

You nod frantically, then Basilio stills your head. “Open your mouth, baby. Tongue out.”

You oblige, and Basilio fishes his cock out of his briefs. Your eyes grow wider as you take in the sight of it; girthy, with a nice length, and a few veins running on the underside. You wonder if Crispin’s is the same. The twin in front of you lightly smacks his member against your tongue, and you proceed to lick it, running from the base to the tip, slicking it with saliva. You swirl your tongue around it, then try to slide it in your mouth as smoothly as possible.

As Basilio begins to breathe harder with each bob of your head, Crispin pulls your ass towards his face, and a choked moan escapes your lips as you feel his mouth on your heat, toying with your folds before he finally finds that sensitive nub. The older twin proceeds to lick and suck at it, eating you out like you’re the best damn meal of his life.

Meanwhile, you push a palm against Basilio’s thigh to make him pause, and before he can ask you if you’re fine, you take his balls in your mouth and fondle him with your tongue. Your hand pumps his neglected cock as you did so.

“Shit! Your mouth feels so damn good,” he hisses, breathing hard. When you take his dick back into your mouth, Basilio gathers your hair and uses it as a handle, watching his length disappear in your mouth over and over, his black eyes hazy with lust and his mouth whispering words of praise.

Crispin looks at his brother with a hint of envy, cock painfully hard against his trousers. He unzips it for relief, and proceeds to stroke himself as he continues to prepare you.

“Hey, Basilio, got any lube?”

“Um, there’s- ungh- a bottle of it under the pillow.”

“...you keep lube under your pillow? What the- and condoms? Can’t you put them in your drawers or something?”

Basilio doesn’t give his brother a response and focuses his attention on you. You gasp against his cock as you felt a cold, gloved hand prod against your asshole, and goosebumps formed on your flesh as you felt the cold lubricant smearing against your entrance. Crispin pushes his lubed thumb in, and you cry out in pleasure, your jaw opening wider for Basilio to claim. Then, two more fingers prod at your pussy, and you swear you can see stars as they slid in. The older twin toys with you while eating you out, and you feel a knot forming at the base of your stomach, threatening to uncoil at any moment.

You couldn’t take it. Basilio’s cock slides out of your mouth and you look over your shoulder, moaning and panting.

Crispin pauses from eating you out to ask you a question. “You’re gonna cum? You wanna cum on my fingers like the filthy slut you are?”

“Yes, please, please, let me cum,” you begged, and with a devilish smirk, Crispin dives right back in to finish the job.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure inside you exploded, shameless moans coming from your throat as your first orgasm hits you. Basilio watches the look of pleasure on your face as Crispin makes you cum, making his cock twitch.

“Now that’s how you please a woman,” Crispin teases, shooting his brother a challenging look while wiping your juices off of his face.

“Wait until it’s my turn,” Basilio replies, smirking.

Panting, legs wobbling, you didn’t get to rest as Crispin takes his cock and slides it in you. In front of you, Basilio cups your face and directs you back to his cock, smirking. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re taking us like a champ, you know that?”

“Fuck,” Crispin hisses from behind you. “You like this, you little slut? You like being fucked by two cocks at the same time?” he asks you, each word punctuated with a hard thrust.

Now you’re really caught in the middle.

Basilio’s panting heavily now, his thrusts becoming erratic against your mouth. You know he’s close, and you brace yourself for what’s coming. Eyes screwed shut, he lets out a low groan as he spills inside of your mouth, his cum painting your tongue white. You try to swallow it all, but a few stray drops dribble down your chin. The younger twin cleans you up, and kisses you deeply, not minding his taste on your mouth. He sits on the bed to catch his breath, and allows you to rest on his thighs.

Behind you, Crispin begins to rut faster, his thumb still in your ass as he pounded you. You writhe and cry against Basilio’s lap, bracing yourself from each harsh thrust. The younger twin pets your hair, but he moves his hand away when Crispin pushes your head against his brother’s lap.

“Take it all of it,” Crispin groans. “Ungh, you make me so horny, you little slut.”

Not wanting to miss out on the fun, Basilio gets an idea.

“Hey, kuya. Hold her up.”

Crispin blinks before obliging his brother’s request, clamping a hand around your throat. “Is this fine?” he asks you, and you nod a few times. He tightens his hold and pulls you to his toned chest, your hair sticking to his skin from your sweat. Basilio kisses you, then latches on one of your breasts. One gloved hand fondles and pulls at your nipples, while the other moves south to stroke you.

“Ah! I think I’m gonna cum again…” you choked, face red and tears forming at the edge of your eyes.

“Say our names,” Crispin whispers against your ear in a low growl.

You mutter their names at first, but it turns to full blown cries as your climax fast approaches.

“Crispin! Basilio!”

It hits you so hard, your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cried shamelessly, and Crispin places a kiss on your open mouth, tongue slipping in and teeth clashing with yours. He pulls out and finishes on your back, cock resting between the valley of your cheeks, still half-hard.

The Twins move to clean you up, looking around for tissues and anything to wipe you with.

“So,” Basilio says. “One more round?”

Your eyes widen, and you look down to see that Basilio is hard again.

“How- what the fuck? What are you two?”

Crispin sighs. “Hannah and Amie never told you? We’re demigods.”

“We don’t get sick and our injuries heal really fast. Talagbusao is our dad,” Basilio adds, and you give him a disbelieving glare.

“You didn’t need to let that last detail slip out, gago,” Crispin berates him as he pulls you close to his muscular chest. He lay down on a pillow, one arm propping his head up.

After a few seconds of silence, you say something. “At least let me have some water first.”

“Right.”

The Twins stare at each other.

“One of us has to fetch it,” Crispin says.

“What? Why me?” Basilio complains, scratching his head.

“Because I’m older, and I’ve worked hard to give her two orgasms in a row.”

“Hey! I’m sure that last one was thanks to me.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow to cover your face. “Ugh, please don’t turn this into a competition about who made me cum the most. Just get me my water, pretty please, Basilio?”

At the request, Basilio smiles and dresses haphazardly to get it for you. “Don’t start without me.”

You close your eyes with a smile. Crispin buries his face against your hair and plays with it. “You have him wrapped around your finger, you know?”

You chuckle at the remark, and Crispin kisses your temple. “Just don’t hurt my little brother.”

“I have no intention of hurting either of you,” you tell him.

Basilio comes back with a pitcher and some glasses, and once everyone’s hydrated and ready, the night continues.

The Twins spoil you with their attention, hands roaming your body as they planted kisses on your skin. Basilio sucks on your collarbone, biting experimentally and leaving marks that would darken in the morning, which draws a whine from your throat. Not wanting to be outdone, Crispin kisses your back, then the back of your neck, and he found a sweet spot that made you moan at that place where your ear connects to your neck. Basilio observes this and does the same to the other side.

“Hey, um, can I do it in your ass?” Crispin whispers in your ear, almost sheepishly, and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Sure. Be gentle. And use a condom.”

“Of course. You go on top. What’s our safeword again?” he asks you, testing your knowledge.

You roll your eyes and try not to laugh. “Eternos.”

“Good girl,” Basilio says.

Flipping yourself around, you lean into Crispin’s lap. “Here, let me help,” you say as you grasp his cock and start to pump. The younger twin behind you reaches for the lube and prepares your ass. You sigh with pleasure as you feel the cold sensation of the product on your skin. Crispin sighs as you slide his length between your lips, head bobbing up and down, and you feel him grow inside your mouth. You give the tip a small lick before doing the same thing you did to Basilio, cupping his balls with your mouth and fondling them with your tongue.

“I want you now,” Crispin rasps, tugging your hair to get you off of him.

You smirk, turning around to give him a great view of your ass. He reaches around for a condom, finds one, and tears the foil open. After sliding the rubber down his shaft, he positions himself against your hole, pressing against the tight ring of muscle. You wince in pain as he starts penetrating you, prompting him to squeeze more lube to relieve your discomfort.

“Relax,” Basilio instructs you, planting soothing kisses at your jaw. You did as he said and unclenched your muscles, entrusting yourself to the two of them.

As Crispin pushes past the ring of muscle, you sigh in relief, discomfort replaced with the feeling of fullness. You lean back into his hard chest, a soft sigh leaving your lips as he starts to move. Meanwhile, Basilio kneels between your legs, rubbing your clit with the head of his dripping cock, but he freezes before he slides it in.

“What?” you ask with concern.

“We’re out of condoms.”

“Just pull out,” you tell him with a strained voice, gasping as Crispin moves inside you.

“No, you don’t understand. We’re demigods. Our… um.. Yeah, we’re really potent.”

You smirk at him. “I’ll ask the girls for something in the morning,” you say against your better judgment. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Cum all over me.”

His cock twitches at your last suggestion.

“Ugh, Basilio, you’re really killing the mood here,” Crispin strains to say, holding you gently by the neck. “I pulled out too, remember? Make up your mind already. I wouldn’t mind having her to myself for now, though.”

“Not a chance,” Basilio retorts, sliding the tip of his cock past your folds and pushing inside.

A loud cry rips from your throat at the sensations, feeling stuffed to the maximum as two cocks start to pump inside you. Crispin’s grip on your neck tightens, while you tangle your hands through Basilio’s hair, pulling him closer and kissing him.

Soon, The Twins find a steady rhythm, syncing their movement so you can feel the full force of their thrusts. Basilio throws one of your legs over his shoulder and begins to massage your clit with his thumb, while Crispin fondles your breasts with his free hand, using the tip of his fingers to roll, squeeze, and pull at your nubs. With every thrust they give, you clench, drawing a groan from both of them as they felt themselves being squeezed by your muscles.

“Oh God,” you whine. “Fuck, you both feel so good.”

“Say our names,” Basilio growls, and you oblige.

You chant their names like a prayer, underscored by the slapping of skin as the Twins fucked both of your holes. Hearing their names only spurred them on, and their movements became more desperate, sweat rolling off of your bodies.

“Basilio! Crispin!”

Underneath you, Crispin gropes at your breast harder, beads of sweat rolling off of his forehead and dripping to your skin. “Your ass feels too good, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed between clenched teeth, and you silently thank Bathala that he’s near his limit. The lube is starting to wash off.

With a few more rough thrusts, he cums, shooting inside the rubber. Crispin cups your jaw and kisses you, deep and sweet, tasting your tongue. You’re on the verge of climax now too, and you give Basilio a desperate look. He understood what you meant.

The younger twin thrusts harder and faster while still rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs furiously, and the older one helps by stimulating your nipples once again. The bombardment of sensation is too much, and you feel white hot heat racing through your body as you cum one last time, voice hoarse as a throaty moan escapes past your open mouth.

The spasm of your muscles is enough to send Basilio over the edge too, pulling out of you and spilling his load all over the mound of your pussy, and your stomach. You feel Crispin slip out of you too. Basilio leans in to kiss you, almost tenderly, but still full of desperation, tongue and teeth.

After a quick cleanup and another drink of water, the three of you lay in a heap of limbs, exhausted. Crispin doesn’t shift at all, content on letting you lie next to him, while Basilio moves next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them on the narrow bed.

Everyone is sated, and with your eyes growing heavy, you wanted nothing but sleep.

“So, who’s better?”

You don’t know who said it, but you raised your hand to give him a middle finger. “Tangina niyo, you’re both good. End of discussion. Now please let me sleep.”

Thank Bathala that they did.

The next morning, all three of you wake up sweaty, stinking, and really, really hungry.

“Good morning to you two,” you sigh, snaking your arms around theirs. Each of them gave you a kiss on your temple. “Damn, I’m starving,” you said, sitting up. “Let’s take a shower and grab something to e-”

Underneath the three of you, the bed’s legs give out, and a loud thud can be heard throughout the house. As you three scramble for purchase, frantic footsteps are approaching, and the door bursts open.

“What was that? Crispin is missing from his room and-” Hank blurts, toting his good ol’ triple barrel shotgun "Ama, Anak, at, Espiritu Santo". Funnily enough, when he sees the tangle of limbs before him, he utters the same words and quickly turns away. Alexandra arrives shortly after, gives them a quick glance, and shuts the door.

Breakfast with their bossing is filled with a mortifying quiet.

You barely touch your food, embarrassment burning your cheeks, and you shoot a glance at your twin lovers.

“Next time, lock the door,” Alex finally says, getting up from the table with a coffee in her hands. She’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this.

“It’s Basilio’s fault!” Crispin yells after her. Basilio made no attempts to defend himself, knowing that he forgot to lock the door again after he came back with the water.

Grumbling, you finally take a bite of your breakfast, jacket draped over your shoulders despite the heat to hide the bruises on your body. “The girls are gonna have a field day when they see me like this.”

“I need to replace the bed,” Basilio mumbles, stuffing his mouth with rice.

The three of you looked at each other, and laughed.

“So, see you next week?” Crispin asks with a smile, and Basilio gives you a pleading, doe-eyed look.

“Yeah. See you two next week.”

Translations for non-English speakers:

tropa: ground of friends. People you chill with

tangina niyo: Filipino profanity. Roughly translates to "you sons of bitches"

Ama, Anak, at Espiritu Santo: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It’s Hank’s weapon’s actual name in the comics.

482 notes · View notes

dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years ago

Text

Everything, Everywhere | The Mikaelson Boys

Hello Lovelies! I circled back to my element and wrote a more traditional Mikaelson Boys fic. Did I reuse the theme of a ball? Yes, I am a weak and lazy woman. Did I make the fic completely implausible and touchy? You know I did, they’re vampires and I will let them touch whoever they want (with consent of course). Anyway, it’s honestly just a cute, kinda steamy romance. I altered some of the points from the universe but you have to squint to see where. You know, my entire gambit. You could use this as a prologue for my other fic, Big Decisions, but this is more than fine as a standalone. Anyways, I hope you are all doing well and that this story brings you joy! Until next time <3

Description: Y/n is part of a founding family and gets invited to a Mikaelson ball. Somehow she manages to enamour three of the brothers. They soon discover she has a few secrets that they’re more than willing to indulge.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x The Mikaelson Boys

Warnings: Kudos to me I think there are none

Word count: 10k (oops)

Tags: Fluff, smut if you squint (more like nudity)

“Are you heading home this weekend?” Lily twirls a strand of blonde hair between her fingers, “Mama told me there’s an event.”

Your best friend lays on your bed as opposed to her own, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes are closed, probably halfway to being asleep. It’s been this way since the two of you left for college three years ago, always more in your space than her own. You’re lucky that way, you have a best friend who would follow you across the country if you wanted her to. Honestly, you would do the same. Luckily, though, you decided on only two hours away away from home. Just far enough to find your footing. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You smile softly at her, swiveling in your chair, “what event? My parents haven’t said anything to me.”

Your family is a founding family, just like Lily’s is. That’s how the two of you became best friends, it was practically destined. You were babies at the same time and your parents brought you to every meeting together. You were inseparable long before you can remember.

Lilly yawns, curling her legs to her chest, “I think it’s some sort of ball. I’m not too sure, I think we got invitations,” Lily rolls her eyes as if the concept of a hand written letter offends her very being, “and they probably just forgot or assumed I would tell you. Isn’t your mom, like, the head of the committee now?”

You nod at her, closing your own eyes for a second, “yeah she’s always got something going on. I swear she forgets she even has a daughter half the time.” You let your mind drift to the other half of the conversation, “Invitations? That’s exciting.”

You don’t have to look at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes again. You crack an eye open anyway just in time to glimpse her do that very thing. You giggle lightly, shaking your head.

Always one for theatrics, “careful, Lil, your tomboy is showing. What would your mother think if she could see you up in arms over a silly, little note, hmm?”

She scowls at you before letting the grin crack through, flipping her middle finger up at you and mouthing bite me.

You lean your head back against your chair, “I’m not even sure if mama wants me to come. She hasn’t said anything about this to me. She called me yesterday and it didn’t come up once. Maybe I should just stay here.”

“Not true,” Lily curls her fingers at you, beckoning you to join her on the bed, “she’s just busy these days. Remember how she was when we were little?”

You move to the bed, curling next to your best friend, “you mean how she was always around? She went from helicopter parent to too busy to text me back.”

You yawn, closing your eyes and letting the lullaby of sleep on your limbs sing a little louder. Lily cuddles closer to you, almost gone herself. You wish you could hold onto these moments. These fleeting minutes of comfort in your best friend’s arms. It’ll be gone all too soon. You almost don’t want to fall asleep. Laying next to her feels like the calm before the storm and you want to soak up as much of it as you can. Your heavy eyelids, however, have other plans.

“You’re coming. If I have to go then so do you. I’m sure this weekend will be different,” her voice is the last thing you hear before you drift off, “I can feel it.”

* * * * * * * * *

Sure enough, when you pull into your parent’s driveway after dropping Lily off at her own house, your mother bursts through the door, a wide smile on her face. You let your own smile drown the nerves you’ve been fighting for the last three hours, practically falling out of the car to get to her. She wraps you in a hug, her familiar honeysuckle and lilac scent trickling around you.

“I missed you, mama,” you whisper against her shoulder and she squeezes you tighter for a second before letting go.

“Oh honey,” she crinkles her nose at you, her face the picture of serene joy, “what’s to miss? I’m always right here. I, however, missed you so much.” She leads you into the house, her arm around your shoulders tight, “Tell me all about everything!”

You suck in a breath as you enter your house, letting your shoulders sag as you pass over the door frame. You’re home, finally. You glance around quickly at everything you’ve missed for the last few months. You glance at family photos, most of which include Lily, and the random trinkets your parents have collected over the years. There are a few new ones and you make a mental note to look at them later.

You settle on a stool at the kitchen counter, leaning your head in your hand, “you first, mama. What’s this about a ball? And an invitation, hmm? You’ve been holding out on me.”

Her eyes widen, telling you everything you need to know. She forgot. You really aren’t that surprised. It makes you feel better, at least the reason she didn’t tell you wasn’t because she didn’t want you to attend. Lily was right, you’ll have to let her say I told you so when you see her next.

“Oh shoot,” she snaps her fingers, rushing to the foyer, her voice floating to you as she turns the corner, “I’m so sorry honey, it completely slipped my mind. I barely had a chance to glance at my own invitation,” she comes back into view, now with two envelopes in her hand, “here you go!”

She hands you the envelope and you almost gasp at how luxurious the paper feels in your fingers. The cardstock is definitely of the more expensive selection and you blanche. Who on earth could be sending this? You read your name on the card drawn in an elegant script. Handwritten. You had been joking with Lily when you thought that but now, looking at it first hand, it almost offends you as well. You could never write like that.

You open it carefully, making sure to not taint the red seal. You’re pretty sure your heart would collapse if that happened. This has to be one of the most beautiful things you have ever touched. You pull the equally luxurious note from the envelope, your eyes dancing over the paper.

Please join the Mikaelson Family this coming Saturday at seven o’clock for dancing, cocktails, and celebration.

Your heart stops. This coming Saturday. Saturday. As in today Saturday. You whip your head up to stare at your mother, your mouth falling open.

“Mama,” this time your eyes widen, “this is tonight!” you hiss, your brows shooting up, “I can’t attend this! There’s no time, it’s two in the afternoon already!”

She rolls her eyes and for a moment you picture Lily and how she would call you dramatic. You can practically hear her voice. Just wear jeans you princess. You scoff at imaginary Lily. You can’t attend a ball in jeans, not that that would stop her at all.

“You can and you should attend,” she places a finger under your chin, drawing your eyes to meet hers, “the Mikaelson’s are new to town and have invited us. It’s only polite that we attend. Besides,” she winks at you and your cheeks flood with heat, “they are quite the handsome bunch. Perhaps you can end this dry spell? Give me some grandbabies?”

You choke at her words, pulling your face from her fingers with burning skin, “oh my god, mama! I’m almost certain you should not be condoning grandbabies! Besides, I have nothing to wear so I highly doubt I’ll be the one pulled from the crowd. Reproduction rates are looking slim, I am sorry to say!”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling, and you can’t stop yourself from joining her, “alright, alright. No grandbabies. Yet. However, I’m not so sure how you can be so certain when you haven’t even looked at what I picked up for you. I quite think you’re going to change your mind, honey bunch.”

Your laughter stops abruptly as she leaves the room for the second time. You hear her jog up the stairs and your interest is officially peaked. She never jogs. What on earth has she done? You rack your brain, trying to picture what she’s going to show you now. You don’t have much time to sit on your thoughts, however, because soon you can hear her feet on the stairs again, still jogging, now humming a tune you can’t place.

When she comes back into view, your mouth falls open. In her hands is a gown. No, not just a gown. In her hands is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. It’s a black, sequined number with a full skirt and a slit that looks like it will rest a touch lower than your hip. The straps keeping it on the hanger are thin, almost nonexistent, and the bodice has a deep but modest dip. When she moves it sparkles like a diamond, catching the sun rays pouring in through the kitchen window. She holds it up, letting it flow to its full effect in front of you, and you gasp, your hands flying to your mouth.

You can feel the tears prickling at the edge of your vision and you silently scold yourself for being so emotional, “mama, where did you get this? It’s too much!”

Her smile falters, minutely, but you still see it and curse silently, “you don’t like it?”

You stand quickly, your eyes wide, “no! That’s not it,” you take the dress from her, afraid it’ll disappear if you don’t touch it, “this must have cost a fortune is all! How can we afford this?”

It’s true, the dress looks like a million bucks and probably costs as much. You’re a founding family, sure, but that doesn’t instantly equate to old money. It doesn’t even mean new money. Your family has never struggled to get by but you also know that something this extravagant would have definitely set your father back a pretty penny. You don’t want your family to waste their hard earned money on something this frivolous, even if it is the most stunning thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Your mother’s smile returns to its full brilliance and she shakes her head, “it didn’t cost me a thing, honey, don’t worry. Mrs. Jackson down the street owed me a favor and I asked if she had anything particularly pretty laying around. She pulled this from her closet. She also told me to let you know that it’s yours if you would like.”

You hug the dress tiger to your chest, your mouth gaping further, “I can keep this?”

Your mother giggles, bobbing her head up and down quickly. She looks like she’s ready to start jumping. You don’t blame her, you’re half a second away from doing the same thing. You could scream from how ecstatic you are.

“Come, honey,” your mom grabs your hand, dragging you up the stairs with her, “I think it’s high time we start getting ready for tonight, don’t you think? You have some Mikaelson’s to wow!”

* * * * * * * * *

When seven o’clock rolls around you’re standing outside the biggest mansion you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Its white pillars taunt you, each one large enough to hide your body. Twice. You’re alone, spare the people around you milling in and out of the large doors. Your mother had dropped you in front while her and your father went to park the car. Never before in your life has a house made you feel this small. This alone. You pull your shawl, a sheer black number, around your shoulders and shrink slightly.

A hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, spinning around quickly only to be greeted with Lily, whose face is twisted from the laughter pouring out of her. She clutches her stomach from the force, wrinkling the red satin dress she’s wearing. You take a moment to admire how much it suits her. It’s a little bold for your tastes but she wears it like no one else could. Her hair is twisted on the top of her head, a few curls falling to frame her face. She looks amazing, not that you had any doubts.

You lightly smack her shoulder, finally letting a few giggles loose, “you scared me you idiot!” You turn your eyes back to the mansion, swallowing the lump of nerves growing in your throat, “take a look at this place, will you. It’s huge! Have you ever seen a house this big? What could someone possibly need a house this big for?”

“Yeah it’s something alright,” her eyes drag down the hulking facade before meeting yours once more, a naughty smirk now on her red lips, “and I’m sure the inside is even nicer! Let’s go!”

She grabs your hand, all but dragging you over the threshold. Light pours over you, catching the sequins on your dress and making it sparkle delicately, something that would usually make you squeal however your attention is currently elsewhere. That elsewhere is the dual grand staircase in the center of the room. It’s encased in pillars, the feature leaking in from the exterior of the mansion. It’s bronze railings are strung up with thousands of twinkling lights. The staircase is easily the focal point of the foyer.

But not because of the lights.

Lily digs her nails into your hand, pulling you to a screeching halt, “are you seeing what I’m seeing right now?”

Her eyes are glued to the same place that yours are, dragging up and down the staircase with little care to whoever might be watching her little show. You choose a less outright form of gawking, opting to look all around the room while still making little glances at your main focus.

“Yeah, Lil, I think I am,” you gulp, your eyes training on three sinfully gorgeous men, “mama said they were handsome but this,” you let the end of your sentence drop, not having nearly the vocabulary to explain the Mikaelsons.

In total, there are five people on the staircase. Four men and a woman. Each one is gorgeous in their own right. You mull over the woman first. If you thought that you looked nice before you left, that’s pretty much gone now. She’s absolutely stunning. Her blonde hair lays in a sheet over her shoulders, winding almost to her base of her spine. She wears an emerald gown, one fitted to every dip and curve of her body like it was spun by Aphrodite herself. You have to look away, she’s the kind of pretty that makes you feel like you’re not worthy of seeing it.

Your eyes travel to the man next to her and your mouth goes dry. He’s tall. That’s the first thing you notice. If you were next to him he would easily tower over you. Not just because of his height, though. You shift your focus to his arms and the way the sleeves of his tux hug them tightly. You have no doubts this man could rip you in two if he wanted to. He stands at ease, his eyes wandering the faces of those closest to him as he lifts a hand to smooth over his brown hair. At least he doesn’t look to be in the killing mood.

Behind him is a man with blonde hair. Even from across the room it looks softer than silk and your palms itch to run through it. He leans against the railing, a glass of champagne loose in his fingers. His eyes are on the others but he has the appearance of a man who is a thousand miles away. Your heart hurts at the thought but you brush past it. You don’t know him and you’re most likely wrong. Still you give him another brush over, wishing slightly that he would crack even a hint of a smile.

You shake your head, moving to the man at the top of the stairs. He’s alive with something fiery, speaking to the others with animated hands and laughing hard. You can’t hear him over the crowd around you but, gods, you wish you could. It’s probably nothing important but, by the looks of him, he could make anything sound special. He throws his head back laughing, his brown hair flopping wildly. You can’t look at him for long either but not for the same reason you couldn’t look at the woman. No, you can’t look at him because you’re afraid if you look any longer than you’ll be sucked in forever.

When you look at the last man you shiver. It’s not the kind of shiver that makes you feel exhilarated though, it’s the opposite. Your blood runs cold when you look at him and, when his eyes meet yours, you look away instantly. You can feel his eyes burning into your back for a few moments after and you hate it. Unlike the rest of them, this man makes you feel ice cold.

You tug on your best friend’s hand, desperate to get away from the man, “come on, Lil, let’s go find the champagne.”

Lily’s eyes light up at the thought, instantly taking the lead on this new expedition, “girl you read my mind!”

You take one last glance towards the staircase as she pulls you into another room, momentarily catching three pairs of brown eyes before scampering around the corner. Your cheeks are hot when you’re finally out of their vicinity. You hadn’t realized how heavy the air around them had been. Now that you can’t see them your bones feel marginally lighter. Something nags at you though, a loss of sorts. You rub a hand over your chest, massaging the ache away.

Lily pushes a cool glass into your hand, lifting her own to her lips. You follow suit, breathing in the sugary scent before letting the sweet bubbles flow down your throat. They pop, soothing your flaming chest.

“Shit,” Lily breathes, “everything about this screams money. The invitations, the house, this damn champagne. What’s next? A pool of synchronised swimmers?” Her eyes wander the room, her fingers tight around the glass, “I’m not used to this Great Gatsby level of wealth. It’s making my head spin a little. This is my parent’s scene, not mine.”

You nod lightly, her words everything you’ve been dying to say. It’s magnificent but you’ve never felt more out of place. Not even the founders day balls are like this. At least Mrs. Lockwood has the good sense to cater to the modesty of the town. Before you can answer, however, a voice joins your conversation.

“My apologies, my brothers like to go overboard when throwing parties. It’s not quite my taste either, a little too stuffy if you ask me.”

You spin around to the sight of the woman from the stairs and your heart pounds hard in your chest. She’s even more beautiful up close, like a Van Gogh masterpiece. Her voice is accented and smooth, impossibly so. You feel like a peasant in her presence but her smile is light and it helps to soothe your nerves a touch. When you look at Lily, though, her cheeks are beet red and her eyes are wide.

“Oh my, I am so sorry! I didn’t think anyone would hear me besides,” she nudges you lightly, the smile she’s plastered on her face sheepish, “this one here. It really is gorgeous. Perhaps university has lowered my standards.”

You watch Lily fumble her words and you don’t blame her. This girl seems like she was made to insite insecurity and you mean that in the very best of ways. Despite her slight enthusiasm, though, Lily’s eyes flow over the woman slowly. You can tell she’s interested. By the way her stares are being reciprocated, you would say she isn’t the only one. You smile at that.

The woman laughs, her eyes filled with mirth, “your standards aren’t low, this party is just a nightmare. I’m Rebekah, one of the many Mikaelsons you will surely encounter tonight,” she looks over her shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, “and it looks as though you’re going to get the immersive experience.”

You, too, look over her shoulder and your heart stops. The three men from the staircase, the ones who didn’t make your blood run cold, walk towards you slowly, stopping here and there to welcome guests. The tall one catches your eye and you freeze, a deer caught in the headlights. He says something to the other men and they join in looking at you. You swallow hard, your insides doing somersaults at the sight of them. A deer caught in three headlights, it would seem.

You look back at Rebekah, your eyes blown wide from the panic rising in your chest. She isn’t looking at you, her eyes still locked on your best friend. They’re in the middle of a conversation that you haven't been paying attention to. You tune back in just in time to hear Lily ask about the gardens behind the house. You scrunch your nose. What gardens?

“Yes, they’re marvelous,” Rebekah leans towards Lily, a glint in her eyes, “and much less crowded. I could show you around them if you’d like?”

Oh no. No no no. You can see the gears turning in your best friend’s head and the smile that blossoms on her face. You know what’s about to happen and for a moment time stands still. She’s really going to do it, isn’t she?

She looks over at you, tossing you and apologetic squint before meeting Rebekah’s wondering eyes, “I would love that! Lead the way.”

You watch in slow motion as your best friend wanders away, once more looking over her shoulder to mouth a quick I’m sorry. You roll your eyes at her, murmuring a silent you owe me. You close your eyes briefly, tipping the remainder of your champagne into your mouth. You set your glass down as the alcohol swirls in your stomach, adding a kind of weightlessness to your movements. You embrace it, your eyes scanning the ornate walls. What the hell are you going to do now?

A breeze swirls around you, a myriad of spices hitting your nose just as a honeyed voice breaks your daze, “this house was built in the seventeenth century. As a matter of fact, those are the same walls. I do apologize, we’re a little slow when it comes to modernization. I know it can be a lot to take in, if you need another moment to confront them I do understand.”

You turn quickly, your cheeks hot to the touch, and you find yourself inches away from one of the men from the staircase. You bite your cheek, you really need to figure out their names. Up close you see that you were right about him, he does indeed tower over you. You have to bend your neck significantly to make comfortable eye contact. You almost wish you hadn't, though, his dark eyes flooding your chest with butterflies.

“I think I’ve had my fill of the walls but thank you for your consideration,” you pull your wrap tighter around you, clutching it like it's the source of magic that is helping you keep your composure, “and for the history lesson. This house is beautiful.”

He smiles widely, an action so doused in beauty that your head spins, “thank you, it was my father’s. I am Elijah, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” his eyes flit across your face and you can feel the blush begin to creep down your chest, “something which I’m beginning to understand is a terrible misfortune on my part.”

Your heart pounds painfully, your throat dry. This man clearly has a deep grasp on words and knows exactly how to use them. You wonder for a moment to what extent. What would he sound like in a more intimate setting? What words would he use when no one else could hear him?

Your eyes widen, your chest burning at the thought, “I’m y/n. Perhaps you’ve met my mother, Mary-Anne?” you glance around, trying and failing to locate your mother, “She’s around here somewhere, she has a hand in most of the happenings around town so it wouldn’t surprise me if you do know her.”

Elijah’s carmel eyes fill with recognition, “ah, yes, I believe I’ve seen her in town. Never you, though.”

Though he doesn’t ask, the question is clear in his tone.

“I attend university out of town,” you clutch your chest lightly, your fingers curling around the top of your dress, “I’m actually only home for the weekend. My mother was adamant I attend this evening.”

Elijah tilts his head, his eyes flitting quickly to where your fingers slip down your dress. When he looks back at you his eyes are a touch darker than before. Your heart pounds harder as well and you bite your lip slightly, thankful your mother didn’t make you wear lipstick.

“I see. I suppose that means we must give you a night to remember,” his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and the heat that was swirling in your chest sinks lower.

“Indeed we shall, brother,” a voice from your left pulls your attention.

You’re greeted with the blonde from earlier, the one who looked like he was on another planet. Standing in front of you now he looks much more aware. His eyes, a touch lighter than Elijah’s, skim down your dress, lingering on the high slit on your hip before meeting yours again. You suck in a breath but there is no oxygen to be found.

“I do hope my brother is giving you a proper welcome,” his eyes flash, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips, “I wouldn’t want you leaving here tonight without a proper taste of the Mikaelson charm.”

The way he says the word taste, the way it rolls of his tongue, is positively sinful. It hits you straight in the stomach, spreading like poison through your already airy body. It anchors you to the ground, to him. You glance at Elijah who’s already watching you like a hawk. You feel naked under his gaze but, for some reason, it isn’t a wholly unwelcome feeling. You actually kind of like it.

You smile lightly at him before turning back to his brother, “I think he’s doing a marvelous job. His introduction skills, however, need a little bit of a touch up.” You giggle at the glimpse of his furrowed eyebrows from the corner of your eye, “Too much talking about walls for my liking.”

“Ah, there you two are,” a third voice joins your arsenal of men, standing on your right and piercing you with a voice accented enough to make the gods fall to their knees, “hogging all the pretty girls tonight, are we Klaus?”

You meet the eyes of the third man, the one who made laughter look like a gift, and your heart sings. He grins at you, his eyes, much like his brothers’, a warm brown. Having all three of them this close to you is more intense than you could have imagined. They make the room feel smaller. Intimate. You’re not sure if you want to run away screaming or move closer to them. They’re magnetic, you’re just not sure if being pulled in or pushed away.

He takes your hand, an action that sends your heart into overdrive. His eyes light up, as if he can hear every rapid beat of your pulse. You scold yourself inwardly. Don’t be stupid, y/n, that would be impossible.

“I’m Kol,” he brings your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that renders your knees weak against your knuckles, “it’s a pleasure.”

Your heart thunders at the feeling of his lips against your skin. You feel like a schoolgirl, dizzy from the slightest touch from your playground crush. His lips are warm and soft. Is this how princesses feel? God, you need another drink.

“So,” Klaus steps towards you, his eyes swirling with something barely contained, “what’s this I heard about us giving you a night to remember?”

Your heart stops on the spot and you almost choke, not missing any of the implications behind his tone, “I have to head back to school tomorrow is all,” you breathe, trying to play off some of the heat swirling under the surface of your skin, “please, don’t let me keep you from the rest of your guests. I’m sure there are quite a few more important people than me here tonight.”

Elijah chuckles, the sound piling on top of the many other ones you’re already holding tight to, “the guest list is merely a formality, it would really be my pleasure to show you around.”

He holds his hand out to you, his eyes warm but challenging. You swallow thickly, a string of indecipherable emotions rushing through your chest, circling your lungs. You know it’s just a gesture so why does it feel like something more? Why does the thought of taking his hand feel like stepping into the rest of your life? You take a breath, squaring your shoulders and slipping your hand into his. Bring it on, destiny.

“Wait just a moment brother,” Kol’s fingers slip around your wrist, dragging down your palm until your fingers are locked together, “stealing her away from me so soon? I’m not sure I can let you do that.”

Elijah and Kol stare at each other, something wild brewing in their increasingly dark eyes. You tense, feeling like the rope in a game of tug of war. This doesn’t feel like a game, though, this feels real. You’re not a rope to be fought over, you get to decide what and who you want. Even if that’s all of them.

You squeeze both of their hands, drawing their attention back to you, “I’m sure this house is big enough for us to all comfortably go for a tour.”

Elijah’s eyes widen, dragging over you once more as if seeing you properly for the first time all night. He, like his brothers, lingers on the most delicate parts of you for just a few moments longer than he should. It’s a hole in his armor, a hint past the gentleman front. You want to leap at it and pull until all that’s left is the darkness swirling beneath his surface.

You glance at Kol who meets your eyes head on, a toothy grin already on his face, “marvelous, darling. What a great idea.”

He begins pulling you, and by default Elijah, out of the room but you halt, feeling a tad off. You look behind you at Klaus and sigh, your heart heavy. He stands tall but you catch his eyes and the way they glance at your hands, both of which are still being occupied. He squeezes his hands into fists, shoving them in his pockets. You tilt your head, pouting slightly at him.

“Mr. Mikaelson, are you coming? Time is of the essence,” you nod your head toward the foyer, a coy smile on your lips, “we can’t can’t afford to waste any now.”

His face lights up instantly, walking towards you with flames dancing behind his eyes, “time isn’t real, love. Tonight we have as much of it as we want. As much of it as you want.”

You swallow hard. You want it all.

Kol pulls you towards him, twirling you slowly, making your dress spin around your legs like a ribbon, “where to first, darling? What do you want to see?”

Your hands land on his chest, your cheeks flushed and legs wobbly from the spinning. His other hand goes around your waist, his fingers squeezing gently, his thumb pressing into your side in a way that makes you want to draw his body closer to your own. Your thoughts from before ring through your head. He makes everything sound special. More than that; he makes everything feel special.

“Everything,” you can’t tear your eyes away from his, you don’t want to, “show me everything please.”

He leans down, his forehead inches from your own. You can feel the heat rolling off his body even through his tux. It’s luxurious and mingles with the last dregs of the champagne. When combined with his scent, a nutty blend of cloves and cinnamon, you feel lightheaded.

“Very well, darling,” his eyes flit to your lips, “everything it is.”

An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you away from whatever mischief is brewing beneath Kol’s honey eyes. He tilts his head at the person who grabbed you, his aura turning from playful to down right frosty.

You turn away, breaking the hold of one Tyler Lockwood. Your ex. You squint your eyes. If you were a cat, your hackles would be raised. You wouldn’t claw his eyes out but you would be damn close. Memories from your senior year pour through your mind, twisting your gut painfully. You blink them away. Contrary to Klaus, you don’t have time for this.

“Tyler,” your voice courteous but cold, “what is it?”

He doesn’t catch your tone or, if he does, he doesn’t act like it. He reaches towards you again, no doubt to pull you into a hug, but you back away. Unlike with Kol, you don’t want to touch him. You definitely don't want him touching you. That part of your life is over.

“Y/n,” his voice is light, happy, “I didn’t know you were back! Mom didn’t say anything. How have you been?”

The atmosphere around you thickens. You don’t have to look at the Mikaelsons to see that their shoulders are tense. You feel them take a step closer to you, surrounding you with some much needed warmth.

You clench your jaw, forcing a smile on your face, “yes, well, I didn’t know if I was going to be home this weekend or not. University and all, I’m sure you understand. I’m fine, thank you.”

He nods enthusiastically and you grind your teeth slightly, wishing the floor would just swallow you whole. You dart your eyes to the side, briefly skimming Klaus as he rolls his eyes. Lily would be proud. Kol and Elijah don’t look amused either. You’re not sure how you know but you have to get them away from Tyler as fast as possible. The air drops another few degrees and you shiver.

“Oh well, no harm done!” Tyler steps closer to you, “say, how long are you in town? We should grab a bite at the grill.”

You drop your fake smile, your heart stinging slightly, “sorry, Lily and I are heading back tomorrow morning.”

You feel the boys once again tense, as if they don’t like the information you just shared. You don’t have time to think too hard about it though before Tyler closes even more space between you, grabbing your hand. You flinch back, hitting something hard and warm. The smell of pine trees, a whole forest of them, swirls around you as a hand circles your waist.

Tyler scrunches his brows, his smile slightly faltering, “tonight, then? I would really love a chance to talk. Catch up a little.”

You almost laugh. He just isn’t giving up. He can never make it easy for you, can he? The hand on your waist squeezes and you look over your shoulder, your heart stuttering. Elijah is staring at Tyler, something swirling under his irises. Whatever it is looks untamed. Not in the good way, like how he was looking at you earlier. No, whatever he’s feeling right now is dangerous. Time to go.

“I really can’t, my night has been spoken for. Maybe next time, Tyler,” you turn to Elijah, “Elijah, did you say that you saw my mother looking for me? Would you mind showing me to her?”

Elijah’s eyes sparkle, clearly taking your hint, “indeed, she was right this way.”

He pushes you gently, blocking you from Tyler as he leads you out of the room. You can hear Tyler call out to you but you keep walking. Two other sets of footsteps join you, Kol grabbing your hand and twining your fingers together once more. When you break into the foyer you let the anxiety that had been building drain. That was more exhausting than you would like to admit.

Elijah leads the four of you silently to a room off to the side of the foyer. He pushes the large mahogany door open, ushering you in before shutting it again. The smell of ink and old pages hits your nose and your mouth drops open at the sight. You’re in the biggest library you’ve ever seen. It’s like something out of The Beauty and The Beast, the ceilings high and the walls lined from top to bottom with shelves upon shelves of books. You break away from the boys, your fingers itching to touch what is no doubt an impressive collection of history.

You hear a chuckle behind you but you don’t turn, your fingers skimming an older looking manuscript. Upon closer inspection the handwritten inscription on the cover reads Vonya i mir. Your heart stops and you quickly pull it from the shelf throwing all common courtesy out the window. This can’t be what you think it is. You flip it over in your hands, taking care not to crack the spine too much. Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy.

You whip your head up, meeting three curious glances with wide eyes, “this is War and Peace! Like, the original manuscript. This is,” your heart pounds, your eyes glued to the yellowed pages in your hands, “this is history. I can’t believe I’m holding this.” Your heart stops, “Oh my, I should not be holding this! This belongs in a museum! What am I even doing, holding it like it’s nothing.”

You set it carefully on a desk behind you, looking apologetically back at them. Your cheeks heat rapidly. It’s very much not like you to go into a stranger’s home and start groping their collectables. You pull your lip between your teeth, lowering your head.

A hand gently grabs your chin, “you didn’t mention you’re a classic literature major, love.”

A small smile toys on Klaus’ lips, his thumb skimming over your jaw. Your heart stutters when he says love, warmth spreading through your chest. You reluctantly move your head from his hand, turning to motion at the manuscript.

“That’s because I’m not. I am a history major, with a focus on Russian culture. I’ve read War and Peace more times than I care to admit,” you smile lightly at the book, thinking about the hours you’ve spent pouring over it, “never in Russian, though.”

You glance back at Klaus, your hand flying once more to your bodice. He studies you carefully, his head tilted to the side.

“And what do you think of it? Do you prefer the war or the peace?” He steps towards you, his words filling the almost nonexistent gap between your body and his.

Your breath catches. He’s close enough to touch and, gods, do you ever want to just reach out and pull him against you. First Elijah, then Kol, now him. You’re really gunning to end that dry spell in one night and three ways aren’t you? Heat creeps up your neck, your ears flaming at the thought.

“You can’t have one without the other,” you glance over his shoulder at Elijah and Kol, both of whom are hanging on to your every word, “war is inevitable but peace,” you look back at Klaus, “peace is fundamental.”

Klaus brushes a strand of hair from your cheekbone, sending shivers racing up your spine, “fundamental to what, love?”

His voice is low, his accent wearing down any reservations that you had at the beginning of the night. Your mother’s voice rings through your ears. Give me some grandbabies. She had clearly been joking but your body clearly has no concept of satire, heat pooling between your legs at the thought of making those babies. You close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. It does nothing to quench the heat. You’re in the thick of it now and there is no escaping the white hot fire growing inside of you.

You sink your head into his hand, “happiness.”

An arm hooks around your waist, spinning you into a pair of spiced arms. Kol. You crack your eyes open and, sure enough, you’re correct. You shouldn’t have been able to guess that already. You’ve known them for no longer than an hour. This is insane. He lowers his face towards yours and your heart slams against your ribcage, his lips inches from yours. You swallow hard, your hands finding the lapels of his jacket. Instead of kissing you, however, he rubs his nose against yours. Oh. That feels nice.

“What makes you happy, darling?”

You laugh softly, his question catching you off guard, “I’m not sure, to be honest. I haven’t had many opportunities to find out.”

“Well then, If you could do one thing that you think would make you happy what would you do?” Kol lifts a hand to your face, his thumb, like his brother’s, skimming your jaw.

You don’t have to think about it, the answer is on your tongue as soon as he asks the question, “I would leave this town,” you glance down, the truth of your statement making you feel all too guilty, “and I’m not sure that I would ever come back.”

His thumb stills and you hold your breath. Perhaps you should have answered with something a little less full on. You haven’t even told Lily that you want to leave and never look back so you honestly have no idea why you just divulged one of your greatest kept secrets to three men you just met. Maybe because it doesn’t matter. Who are they going to tell, right? But no, that doesn’t feel right. You didn’t just tell them because. You had a reason, you just can’t put a name to it.

“I see,” he draws his thumb over your lips, an action that both surprises you and steals the air from your lungs, “and where would you go?”

Again, your answer is effortless, “everywhere, Kol. I would go everywhere.”

Kol smiles, his eyes lighting up with his grin. Your heart skyrockets, fireworks shooting through your chest from the slightest tilt of his perfectly red lips. They look soft; perfectly kissable. If only you had half of his self-assurance. What you wouldn’t give to run the tips of your fingers over his lips.

His hands draw back down your sides, “what was going on back there? You didn’t seem pleased to be speaking to that,” Kol clicks his tongue distastefully, his accent thickening, “boy. Is he the reason you want to leave?”

You pull back slightly, your hands tightening on his coat. How are you even supposed to answer that? The story is a long one and there are very few enjoyable moments to lighten it. Tyler is not the reason you want to leave but you surely wouldn’t be doing yourself any favors by staying for him either. He’s part of a long past, one you’re not going to tell them about. Not today, anyway.

“It’s a long story,” you gently remove yourself from his hold, “one that I assure you none of you would care to hear. But to answer your question, no. Tyler has nothing to do with me wanting to leave. That’s entirely my own, for better or worse.”

He nods, the understanding clear in his honeyed eyes, “in that case, darling, tell me something else.” He pulls you back to his chest, “Do you like the stars?”

* * * * * * * * *

They left the party. Their party. They just up and left the party that they were hosting. You’re shocked. You were shocked when they dragged you out of the mansion and you’re still shocked now, laying on a blanket a few miles away with your mouth hanging open. You hadn’t thought anything of it when Kol asked you about the stars. You thought he was continuing with his little game of twenty one questions. You didn’t think he was serious! Who the hell just leaves the party they’re hosting?

Elijah shuffles his hands through your hair, pulling pins from it left and right and letting the hardwork your mother put into it fall. Yes, indeed you’re laying across the lap of one of the most eligible bachelors you have ever come in contact with, your face pressed against his warm thigh. Your fingers are wrapped around a bottle of the sweet champagne from earlier.

“You know,” you murmur quietly, your eyes locked on the spray of stars above your head, “when you host a party, it’s usually expected that you attend. Running away is frowned upon.”

He laughs and you can feel it through your entire body. It awakens the butterflies sleeping in your chest, sending them fluttering to your guts where the beating of their tiny wings create an inferno so large it sets you on fire from the inside out. You always wondered what it would feel like to be burned alive. You would have never guessed that it would make your toes curl.

“I thought that was what you wanted,” he drags his fingers through your scalp, the final blow to your once styled hair, “to run away. Here’s a start.”

You rub your cheek against his thigh, your face heating when he tenses at your action, “we’re pretty terrible at this running away thing then,” you hum, pulling yourself to your knees, “we only made it five miles. If I focus I think I can still hear the music. We’re lousy escape artists.”

A breeze blows over your shoulders and you shiver, your thin shawl doing nothing to veil you from the night. You’re just thankful it’s still warm enough to be outside at this time of night. Soon the nights will be getting colder and you won’t be able to do this. It’s one of the many reasons you long to move away. A pair of hands draws over your shoulders and you shiver again, this time from something entirely unrelated to the elements. You smile lightly. Maybe not. The Mikealson’s have more than proven that they are a force of nature.

Klaus’ voice is like ocean waves in your ear, cresting your skin with every low syllable, “well this is just the beginning, love. How far we go is up to you.”

He’s joking, of course. He has to be joking, right? You turn to look at him, seeking out his eyes in the darkness. They burn into yours, no hint of humor anywhere on his face. His gaze pierces through the night and your breath catches, your heart pounding at all the possibilities of what he meant. You bring the bottle to your lips, using the cool liquid to stall while you gather your feelings.

Kol takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth, “So, darling,” he kisses one of your knuckles, his lips like heavenly fire, “how far are we going?” Another knuckle, another kiss, “what is it you want?” He nips lightly at your fingertips and you gasp, the feeling akin to tiny zaps of lightning against your skin, “where do you want to go?”

Your head is spinning, the champagne settling once more over your bones, “I wouldn’t know where to start. There are too many places,” you swallow hard, “too many things.”

Klaus’ fingers toy at the straps of your dress, skimming down your arms with them in tow, “the first place that comes to mind, love. What is it?”

Elijah pulls you towards him, his hand sliding up the slit on your thigh and curling around your hip. His fingers whisper over your bare skin and you tighten your hand on the bottle. Not out of fear, though. No, you use the bottle to keep your hands busy. If your hands were empty you can’t be sure where exactly they would be. On who they would be.

Elijah squeezes your hip and you gasp again, this time louder, “New Orleans,” it’s the first place that comes to your mind, “I want to go to New Orleans.”

Time stills when you finally answer the question. You can hear the wind rustle through the trees and crickets chirping in the distance. Three smells, each of their own element, wrap around you. Klaus’, like water, pouring over your back. Kol’s, like fire, burning up your arm. Elijah’s, like earth, sliding down your hips. You, the air, curl around each of them, pulling them close with your very essence.

And then, with a far off howl, time unfreezes and Klaus rips the straps down your arms, “New Orleans, hmm,” He sweeps your hair back, his nose skimming down the side of your neck, “a woman after my own heart. When shall we go?”

You laugh, the sound breaking through the almost reverent atmosphere, “we can’t just leave, Klaus. You have to plan things. I can’t just drop everything and run to New Orleans.”

Kol pulls your arm through the strap, furthering the tantalizingly slow process of peeling the dress from your body, “but you want to, darling. Am I right?”

His lips find the crook of your elbow and you almost moan, “of course you are but it’s not practical.”

Elijah tugs at your hips again, pulling you onto his lap. Kol and Klaus move with you, clinging to you like shadows. Kol’s hair tickles your arm, the soft strands brushing against you as his blazes a trail of open mouthed kisses up your arm. Klaus nips the back of your neck, his fingers wrapped in your hair and pulling lightly. It should feel wrong, you know it should, but by god how could something this ethereal possibly be wrong. Your body feels like it’s made out air and for the first time you’re free to breeze wherever you choose.

“Neither are we. It’s simple,” Elijah leans down, grabbing your jaw and steering you to meet his eyes, “would you like to go, y/n?”

Your heart stops when it hits you that they’re dead serious, “to New Orleans?”

It’s dark but you can still make out the smile on his face. It says it all, his words only reaffirming what your brain has been screaming at you.

“Not just New Orleans, darling, everywhere,” Elijah murmurs, his lips just in front of yours, his peppermint breath fanning your face delicately, “do you want to go everywhere?”

Just like that, your heart restarts, a rush of adrenaline spreading over your bones. Very rarely in life are you presented with the opportunity to go everywhere. You can’t even fathom what everywhere means. Surely there isn’t time to go everywhere, right? You suck in a breath, one that makes it feel like before this moment you were never truly breathing at all. Who cares if there isn’t enough time, you think to yourself.

You slide your arms around Elijah’s neck fast, nodding your head furiously in lieu of all the words that refuse to form a coherent sentence. You tangle your fingers in his hair, the strands like silk against your skin. You don’t take your time to admire it, though, you just yank his mouth to yours, smashing your lips against his and hoping it says everything that you can’t.

His hands squeeze your hips again and this time you don’t hold back, moaning into his mouth with the force of the tropical storm building under your skin. Your dress feels much too tight all of a sudden, the sequined material biting into your flesh. You shuffle, pulling your other arm from the strap before wrapping it back around Elijah’s shoulder, your fingers digging into his back through his tux jacket. That needs to go too. Now.

“Darling,” Kol’s husky voice whispers against your skin, his face buried in the other side of your neck, “as beautiful as you look right now I’m about half a second away from ripping this dress off your body.”

His words barely register but you catch the important parts, peeling your lips from Elijah’s just far enough to utter, “please don’t rip it, it’s the prettiest thing I own.”

His hands, which are curled around the back of your bodice, stall momentarily, “well that won’t do, now will it?” He muses, his mouth skimming your shoulder with each word, “New Orleans is fine, you won’t need many clothes at all I’m sure. But Paris will demand more of us, darling. We’ll have to fix this.”

Your heart shudders, along with your body. Paris. Surely now he’s joking.

He opts instead to use the zipper rather than tearing it apart, his knuckles softly skimming your bare back as it becomes exposed to him. Inch by inch, cool air wraps around your skin. When he gets to halfway, his mouth begins following his hands. He nips at the bumps of your spine, biting down harder when he gets to the base. Your hands, which are still on Elijah’s shoulder, tighten as flames roll through your body.

Klaus’ hands slip around you, tugging this time at the front of your bodice and pulling it down to reveal your bare chest. He pushes the fabric down your stomach, trailing his fingertips over your ribs as you arch into his chest, a string of incoherent praises falling from your lips. You’re pretty sure you murmur his name somewhere in there though, because his chest rumbles against your back and, before you know it, he pulls you up to your feet.

“Klaus, what are you-” your words are cut short from the night, swallowed instead by lips which taste too much like oranges and rum for you to even consider trying to repeat yourself .

His tongue slips into your mouth, his hands flying into your hair, pushing it away from your face and using it to tilt your head to an angle that makes you see stars. The cold air sweeps over your breasts and you shiver again. It doesn’t last long before a pair of hands are sliding up your exposed sternum and over your chest, cupping your breasts. Kol’s cinnamon musk furls in your lungs as he pulls you into his now bare chest. His skin is hot against yours but you wouldn’t expect anything less from the flame made man.

Klaus detaches from your lips, pressing them once more against your swollen mouth before moving down your neck. He pulls your skin into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the dip in your throat. He courses a river down your front with his mouth, stopping to leave little love bites all over your collarbones and shoulders before heading south. He falls to his knees, shrugging his jacket off before pressing his lips to the valley between your breasts.

You moan, loudly, and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging him harder against you, “god, you’re too good at that,” you roll your head against Kol’s shoulder as Klaus lips flow over your skin, finding your nipple between Kol’s fingers, “we should not be doing this.”

Another pair of hands, the last pair, pulls your face to a pair of lips, the last pair of lips, “Is that what you think, darling? Do you want us to stop?”

Elijah’s lips skim over yours as he speaks, sparks igniting with each touch. You don’t have to think about his question.

“No,” you press your mouth against his assertively, “please don’t stop. Never stop.”

With that Klaus pushes the rest of your dress off your body and, well, the rest of the details of that night remain between you, Kol, Klaus, Elijah, and the stars.

* * * * * * * * *

You lean your head against the cool leather of the seat, your eyes closed as the wind whips your hair behind you. You’ve never ridden in a convertible before but, much to the trend of Mikaelson fashion, it’s luxurious. Elijah slings his arm around your shoulders and you smile, cracking your eye open to glance at him. His hand is on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. He looks peaceful. Happy. He looks over at you, tossing you a wink before turning back to the road. Butterflies flutter through your chest and you welcome them with open arms.

You glance in the rearview mirror, your grin growing when you see two sleeping men. Kol is leaning back, his mouth half open as soft snores fall from his mouth. You giggle quietly. Last night must have exhausted him. He wears his slacks still but now, instead of his jacket, he wears a wine colored hoodie. His hair is mussed and you swallow thickly, thinking back to how it felt between your hands.

You move to Klaus, shaking your head slightly to defuse your slowly heating skin. He, too, no longer wears his jacket but, unlike Kol, he only has a t-shirt on. His arms are folded under his head as he leans against the seat. His body is relaxed, his legs spread in front of him. You yawn looking at him, fighting the urge to crawl over your own seat and into his lap.

“Are you tired, love?” Elijah’s voice mixes with the wind, floating over you like music.

You meet his glance for a moment, smiling sheepishly, “yes but it’s nothing.”

“You should try to sleep,” his voice is slightly concerned, his eyes slipping over your bruised skin before turning back to the highway, “we still have about seven hours before we’re even in Louisiana.”

You stifle another yawn, pulling the sunglasses on your head over your eyes as the sun breaks over the trees blurring past you, “not yet, Eli. I don’t want to miss anything. I’ll sleep when we get there.”

You hear your phone beep from the bag at your feet but you ignore it. That’s another thing that you’ll wait until the Louisiana state line for. Instead you lift the book on your lap, your fingers skimming delicately over the words on the cover. Vonya i mir. Your heart warms as you open it to the first page, settling into the leather seat. Elijah looks over at you and chuckles, the sound even more musical than last night. This is going to be the easiest seven hours of your life.

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arrogantsonofabiscuit · 3 years ago

Text

Adore you

Feat:- Kuroo and You!

Genre:- Fluff and mentions of pet names.

A/n:- Dancing with Kuroo while listening to your favorite song :)

Word count:- 1.4K

A post for @ohajime song fic collaboration

Funny isn't it? When you plan something out and nothing seems to go accordingly? The excitement, the joy and the hard-work seems to be wasted when something messes it up. Well that's the situation you are in right now!

Thinking aback, sleeping when the alarm snoozes for the umpteenth time but you seem to still doze off with sleep lingering within you and your body asking you to rest some more. You move to the other corner of your bed where your boyfriend sleeps. You groan when you find out that his spot on the bed is empty and cold. You stir back to your side of the bed and try to pull your plush blanket over your form for some kind of warmth. You tried pulling but something kept it on its spot , slightly opening your eyes you see your boyfriend with his arm on his chest.

"Blanket"

"No."

"What do you mean NO? I need my blanket!" you whine.

"No, you can't have your blanket, we have to get ready."

" Huh?" you replied with a confused face

"Babe, did you forget what day it is today? We have to go to your brother's wedding?" He gets up from the bed and stretches himself so that the remaining sleep is gone. "Yeah I know , but we can do one thing " you reply with a yawn. "And that is? " he opens the closet to take out his towel. "You go bath and once you are done would you please wake me up?" your reply as you stir back to your previous position. He hums and enters the bathroom.

The bedroom was filled with dim light even though it was quite sunny outside along with slight voice of water and a humming sound could be heard which lulled you in a deep slumber. Kuroo gently twists the door knob and the enters the bedroom with a towel hung loosely on his body, just giving the glimpse of his perfectly sculpted body. He then walks towards you ,sleeping on the plush bed with pillows underneath your head, your hair scattered everywhere on your face, your slightly parted lips had urged him to kiss you but he stopped as he remembered that you guys had to attend a wedding!

He caresses your forehead and brushes your hair off your face, you grab his wrist and kiss his knuckle earning a chuckle from the ravenette and you get up. The blanket was now on top of your head and you spin your head with the blanket. He observes your mini performance and how you tangle yourself more into the mess of the blanket. You groan as you look at the time on the clock placed on the nightstand. You were supposed to be up by 7:00 but now it seems like you woke up an hour late as it was 8:00 now. You get up from your bed irritatingly and fold your blanket and set your bed in order, Kuroo was observing you from corner of his eyes and had one of the biggest smiles plastered on his face. He could think of only one word and that was "Adorable." (Your mess is adorable 😣☹️)

You take a towel with you and you tie your hair into a messy bun before stepping into the bathroom. You set your products on the flat surface of the tabletop and get ready to take a quick shower.

Kuroo goes to the kitchen to look for something to munch on . He decides to make some breakfast as he knows once you get late you don't like to have breakfast and you also forget to carry some snacks with you. He takes out a pan and cracks open an egg and makes sunny side eggs the way you like it. He prepares some toast along with a cup of your favorite coffee. Your coffee preference always confused him because you were known to be a sweet tooth but you always liked your coffee to be bitter so that it would wake you up and help you stay awake during work.

You step out of your the shower-room and start drying yourself . As soon as you look up at the mirror you see some sticky notes on them. It had small messages written on them like "Before you forget I wanted to let you know that this big boy loves you and he fucking adores you!". "Good morning sweet cheeks ! You have no idea the amount of happiness you brought into my life! <3." You would call it cheesy or what not but those messages did make you giddy and lightheaded.

You smile looking at them and start getting ready. You apply some of your products and take out the dress you were supposed to wear. You come out of your room and enter the kitchen to have a small snack before leaving, because you knew that you would always get angry at your boyfriend if you weren't fed well. You were flabbergasted when you heard him humming to your favorite song as you enter the kitchen from the long hallway.

“Your wonder under summer skies

Brown skin and lemon over ice

Would you believe it?

You don't have to say you love me

I just wanna tell you something

Lately you've been on my mind”

You clear your throat as you look at Kuroo's flustered face and he whipped his head left and right to cover his pink cheeks and ears from your loving gaze. He was already surprised when you showed up but what escalated was the way you continued to sing the song

"Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Oh, honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you"

You walk towards him as he sets the plate on the dining table with an enchanting smell of your coffee along with your favorite breakfast and to top that he also kept a small piece of the cake that you had bought a day ago. You were amazed at how much this guy knew you, your habits, your weirdness and what not. You guys look at each other for a brief second and continue to sing the song,

"Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Oh, honey I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

Like it's the only thing I'll ever do"

You bow down as you perform this small set with your beloved and then hug him saying "Thank you I could not have done this without you " .After having your breakfast, you guys washed your dishes and finally after completing all the chores ,settled on your respective car seat.

The sun was high in the sky, the light came seeping through the shades you were wearing . The sky was almost the color of pastel pink , soft for the eye and absolutely lovely. The scenario outside looked mesmerizing almost breathtaking as you reach the venue of the wedding. You met your mother and she was complaining about how late you were , but you couldn't find right reasons to explain her. The only possible reason was that you overslept but the way you got ready, the way you cherished the moments ,the way you twirled around your house dancing to your favorite song with the person you love made your heart fill with upmost love you had for your boyfriend.

The wedding ceremony concluded and various toasts were made . A soft music played in the background which made you jolt out of your seat and you made your way to the dance floor with your boyfriend. He placed his arms around your waist pulling you closer and you placed your hand on his broad shoulder. You slow danced to the song and at that moment maybe today god was with you (quite rare), the sun had set in the background , the small rays making you look ethereal, the smile you had glowed more and the way your eyes shined made him blush. He looked so handsome as the way the sun kissed his features on his face , his wide smile and even his hazel eyes penetrating through your soul. It felt like he found the one for him , he found his home, his partner in crime, his paradise. At that moment Kuroo and You came to a conclusion and that was,

"You have to hold my hand tightly love, because it is a long journey ahead, lets dance till the end with your hand in my hand. Let's love till the end."

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lixie-lovie · 4 years ago

Text

{ Rogue princess | skz }

l.felix x f!reader

Genre: ??? fluff, angst ig, royalty au, princess!reader, star child!felix, idk u tell me

Warnings: a bit angsty, bad relationships at the beginning, issues with parents, vague mention of past death, mention of animals, mentions of running away

((If anything needs to be added to warnings, lmk! I’ll fix it asap))

Word Count: 5.2k

Note: did I write this literally to comfort myself today? Yes. Have fun reading this reallllyyy self indulgent fic lolz. Hope anyone reading this has a good day! Ily

——————

A throne made of gold and satin-like velvet, all tyrian purple. Too large this seat felt, as did the hall full of people standing under gilded light filtering through the large stained glass window. Here you sat, next to your father in an even more ornate throne, in front of a crowd of people who knew your name, your face, but nothing of your soul.

They couldn’t name that green was your favorite color because of the trees you would catch glimpses of through the windows of your tutors room, ever strong through the seasons never having to carry the weight of a kingdom. They would never be able to name why ships made you weary and claustrophobic or that your favorite flowers of springtime are those that bloom away from the castles gardens when eyes aren’t watching. They couldn’t guess your favorite piece of music, the one you never heard at those god forsaken balls. They never could place that instead your favorite would be the one that came ever so gracefully from under your mother’s fingertips at the piano that used to spark so much joy in the hearts of the people, but now sat lonely collecting dust. They didn’t know you longed to reach the stars someday, yearning for their delicate freedom in the inky black sky. They couldn’t tell that you wondered if they felt out of place too.

More so than anything else, they could never guess how much you hated staring at the men kneeling before you now, begging for a wife, a servant to their needs of pleasure, for the sake of “peace.” They would never know the disgust that sent a shiver down your spine at the twisted grin of these men that took your fingers in their too rough grasp and kissed that back of your hand, their sin tainted lips lingering moments too long. Their hands twitching at their sides with their sickening thoughts as they watched you stand from your throne, adjusting the circlet of silver adorning your perfectly crafted hair.

Your father, your king, grinned widely at the propositions made my these men, happy at the prospect of one of them taking your hand, winning your heart. Happy at the prospect of selling you away. A fair trade he’d call it. A duty.

He’d never understand, you came to realize. He was the man who had chosen your mother, the same way these creatures of lust in front of you are now. Readily ridding the world of her happiness and songs, harshly forcing her into a life of servitude, solitude, for the sake of duty.

“None of them would get it”

You’d say to yourself silently as you excused yourself to the washroom, wiping your disgraced palm clean of the suitors that you had been dancing with’s sweat, your nose scrunched in disgust. In the washroom you would stand, hands now pressed to the too warm mirror in that stuffy room, staring at your reflection. Your reflection stared back at you tauntingly, the flushed cheeks and too perfect hair, until your eyes got caught on the thin band gracing your head. The piece of metal that used to be the only thing tying you to your mother’s lineage, now was only an unwelcome reminder of your duties lined up in the other room, waiting for your hand in marriage. You sighed harshly, ripping the despicable band of silver off of your head, ruining the perfect waves your hair was lying in before. You laughed too hard, running your hands harshly over the layers of paint adorning your face. Your breaths became ragged as you tore the cloth sigil from the bodice of your dress, the only thing left showing your status in this deplorable kingdom and soon you realized, the only thing holding you back.

You stared at your own reflection, a haggard appearance of a forgotten princess staring back at you, and you smiled. Quickly, you rushed to the door, checking for footsteps, before finding your way to the nearest maids chambers. Stepping inside you grabbed a few essentials and a cloak as black as the night’s sky. Once you felt satisfied in what you had taken, you steeled your nerves before quickly and cautiously making your way to the stables, now abandoned with everyone attending the event.

Your eyes scanned the area quickly before settling on a horse with hair as white as snow and eyes the color of indigo. Your form slowed, your breaths coming out in soft pants as you made your way towards the creature in awe of its beauty. You reached your hand out slowly, to gain the trust of the majestic beauty. Suddenly and strikingly you heard a voice sounding from behind you.

“My lady! Where do you think you’re going?” A rough, calloused hand gripped your shoulder tightly, startling you. You turned around quickly, your arms raising defensively. As the offending party grabbed your wrists to gain your attention your excitement died down and your breaths came out easier when you took in the features of Changbin, your personal first knight assigned to you. Your expression became one of relief as you took in the worried, curious look resting on his angular features in the low light of the stables.

“I’m leaving, Changbin. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I can’t go through with this. Please don’t try to stop me..” You said gripping his hands in yours, staring into his eyes hoping to portray the feelings pooling in the base of your throat, causing your words to come out choked. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t change your mind if I wanted to, princess. Here, take this.” He said, smiling softly. A gentle sigh left his lips as one hand reached into one of the many holsters on his person, while the other drifted to comfortingly rest on the crown of your head. His large, rough hands pressed a small holstered knife into your palm. “It’s a blade your mother used to use. I was supposed to give it to you tonight at the ball, but this felt like the right time.”

For the first time that night you smiled genuinely, staring into his eyes softly in thanks while turning to prepare the horse for your disappearance. Changbin’s hands found your waist, hoisting you up and onto the back of the horse before he quietly led you out of the stables, checking for prying eyes and quietly uttering you a safe trip. You made simple promises to return safely to him, unsure of how much truth they held, but sure of the comfort filling your chest with the smile gracing his face.

With that, you turned your head to the dark forest ahead and took a deep breath to steady yourself before going on this possibly dangerous adventure. Then, like lightning striking your nervous system, you heard a voice you had hoped to never hear again.

“Y/n!” Your father’s voice rang out over the courtyard causing you to gasp and whip your head in the direction of the sound. Changbin’s worried eyes stayed trained on your face as your indecision bubbled in your chest at your father’s commanding tone. Quickly muttering some words Changbin sent the horse off running in the direction of the forest, your confused mind allowing the actions to happen wordlessly as you watched Changbin draw his sword against his own king to protect you and allow you the freedom you had longed for.

---------

It had been moments, maybe hours, you were unsure. The sky bared no stars as you stared hopelessly heaven bound with your eyes blurred. The chilly air hurt your cheeks now dry from the rivers of tears at your actions. Your steed came to a slow, wearily looking around the dangerous wood. All that was to be heard around you were the low grumbles of the predators and the soft snapping of twigs. In the haze of your misery you were lost and cold, unsure of even your own safety as you whipped your head uneasily in every direction of unknown noises.

It was then that a loud howl sounded from somewhere nearby, a chorus of others following suit. You tried catching sight of the beasts making the horrid sound, but soon it seemed as though the guttural growls were surrounding you, closing in on their next meal. You yelped loudly as the horse became unsteady and afraid, dashing off towards the nearest escape. From your lips feeble shrieks of protest left, but to no avail. The creature’s of the hunt followed suit, a game of cat and mouse. Suddenly, one creature, the largest, leaped out from beyond a too dark clearing in front of your path, baring its fangs and lashing out with its dastardly claws. The horse came to an unsteady halt, rearing back and knocking your frail form harshly to the ground. You inhaled sharply, rolling away, your limbs tucked inward, as fast as possible from the now trampling hooves and paws. You held your breath, covering yourself with your arms and you cried. Tears poured down your face as you waited for the steps of the animals to recede. You heard their noises of primal instinct and found yourself counting the minutes down until they were long gone and satisfied with their hunt.

When your arms went numb and the tip of your nose was sufficiently frozen, you turned over in the dirt, wet with dew, to stare at the empty sky. Your tears came until they could no longer, your breaths uneven with bitter air exhaling harshly from your lungs, and as your eyes stayed trained upwards, you allowed yourself one prayer to any god that would listen.

Please. Just let me see one star. One being from above that would understand.

Abruptly you were taken aback by an unusually chilling wind blowing through the branches of the tall oak trees, causing you to wrap your arms tightly against your grimy, shivering self. Slowly you allowed the exhaustion of the night to take over your features, your eyes closing allowing sleep to take over your dirt ridden form. Finally, you felt some semblance of peace come over you as you drifted off, a prayer still sitting heavy on your pale, chapped lips.

“You’re one weird human.” Your ears suddenly perked as a deep voice suddenly sounded from somewhere nearby. You screamed, scurrying to cover yourself with some kind of protection. Your eyes scanned the surrounding area frantically searching for the source of the voice.

“W-who’s there?” You said with as little confidence as you could muster. You cursed your voice for shaking silently as you continued your frantic search for this possible danger. Your eyes landed on a large branch nearby and your legs moved on their own accord, sliding you harshly against the hard, cold ground to scramble to grip the branch tightly, turning and holding it out in a manner you could only hoped looked more threatening than it felt.

“So silly..” The deep voice chuckled out from somewhere behind you. You yelped, waving the stick in the opposite direction, hoping not to lose your footing against any loose rocks or sturdy tree roots. Your dress was torn and soaked and the gentle breeze now moving in random intervals was jarring and dancing around your cloaked form, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A sudden snapping sound from a branch above your head caused you to scream, throwing the large branch with all of your feeble might towards the offending sound. A larger breeze blew by, obscuring your vision with your own hair and you scrambled to remove it from your vision. As your finally were able to get a glimpse of a male slinking towards you another breeze blew harshly by causing your to sigh sharply, your hands flying back up to your face to remove the hair blocking your vision yet again. “Your gonna hurt someone throwing those things.” The voice sounded again, humor twinkling off of his lips with smooth curls of laughter.

“Who are you? What do you want with me??” You said, your feet backpedaling as you finally removed your hair from your face again to take in the sight before you. Your eyes scanned the clearing of trees in the dim light unable to find the man you had been questioning and just as you began to question what was even real, you heard him again, your head whipping in the direction of the sound.

“I should be asking you that, considering you called for me..” He said, the humor never leaving his tone. You began to feel embarrassed at the thought of this man laughing at your pitiful state. Your cheeks grew red and your ears felt hot as you began wondering why you didn’t feel as in danger as you had earlier that night, deciding to deem it all on how wild the rest of your night had already been. Instead of answering you simply furrowed your brow, scanning and searching with your eyes still trying to find the source of the inquiry. Out of the blue in the still night, yet another breeze blew by roughly, chilling you to the bone. A branch suddenly creaked above you and you scrambled back to get a view of what could be perched there.

“Looking for me?” What you found, illuminated by the dim white moonlight, was a boy, seemingly about your age, swinging his legs softly to the gentle sway of the winds. His hair was strikingly white, pure as snow. His pale skin shone softly as if covered gingerly in new born stars. His eyes held mirth, much like his cheshire smile, and his whole body was lax with amusement as he stared down at you. In shock you stumbled backwards, falling over yourself and landing harshly on the ground, yet again tonight staring up at the sky. You felt the wind tousle your hair, but you didn’t seem to have the energy to care much as your mind grappled with its own questioning thoughts.

“Uhm..lady? Are..haha..are you okay?” His question, broken with impish laughter, felt comforting in a way as he leaned over your form, searching your face with curious eyes and a interrogative furrowed brow. You turned your head softly, staring into the now shocked eyes of the boy with the angular features and moon like eyes before suddenly your lips twitched, the corners of them quirking before a laugh began to bubble out of your chest. The laugh itself with incredulous and loud, joyous like a little kid finally discovering how something works. The boy looked back at you, tilting his head like a confused puppy as he watched you sit up slightly, leaning on your elbows. He didn’t make a move to back up or give you any space, instead leaning closer to examine you further.

“Did you hit your head or something, funny lady?” He said, his deep voice and boy-like expression of wonder and frustrating confusion only spurring your laughter on further as you grappled for breath. The events of tonight were catching up with your exhausted state and you found yourself wondering if this boy who shone so brightly on this gloomy night was even real.

Once you could finally catch your breath you sat upright and really took in the sight of him. He may have seemed young on the outside, but somehow he held a powerful aura, like he knew more then he let on. His smile was dazzling as he stared up at you with eyes that twinkled with a silent knowledge. You felt as though he was looking past your filthy outward appearance, and instead he was reading through your soul, listening silently to the story you couldn’t find the words to tell.

He stood suddenly, as if he found the answer to the question that had been dancing around like the winds, curling through each of your minds. His smile became softer and more genuine as he looked down at your still seated self and slowly outstretched his hand. It was a gesture you were unfamiliar with. It wasn’t a sudden, demanding grasp of your non-consenting hand. It wasn’t rough and calloused, with a predator-like grin gracing his features, but, instead, as you slid your hand over his palm in a silent proclamation of trust you found yourself reveling in how silky smooth his larger, more slender hand felt wrapping around yours in a protective gesture. He glanced at you, a playful smirk playing on his cherry red lips.

“Do you trust me?” He said, his deep voice breathy and patient, allowing you whatever amount of time you felt like you needed before you nodded slowly, hesitantly. He tilted his head in a munificent gesture, encouraging you to verbalize your thoughts. You felt the minuscule inkling of a curl to your lips forming, your eyes catching on how he seemed to be emitting light in this dim forest. The wind blew softly, ruffling your hair and caressing your now heated cheeks. He watched your features carefully as you bowed your head and giggled to yourself at the sensation of the winds dancing around the both of you. The chilly night felt warm as you turned your head slowly and methodically towards him again, your eyes glistening with an unreadable emotion and you breathed in deeply in a more relaxed manner.

“I do.” You said, beaming up at him now, your small, frail hand squeezing his a little tighter. He smiled fully now and to you it felt like sunshine. He watched your face, entranced in your beauty taking not of how grateful he was to have answered your call tonight, vowing to bring that smile back whenever he could. Your expression grew concerned as the look in his eye changed and he suddenly pulled you towards him, wrapping one arm around your shoulders before taking off in a sprint.

You tried to match his pace with a yelp, the wind now pushing you around forcefully. Your cries of protest were drowned out with his hysterical giggling. He forced you forward for a few more minutes as you began to question his strange motives before suddenly he came to a stop. His landing was much more graceful then your sudden stumbling forward, but as you gained your footing your objections died in your throat as you took in the sights around you. The forest behind you now, you stood in a clearing with grasses tickling your ankles, but the most impressive thing about this sight was the flowers. In full bloom, covering the surrounding area as far as your eyes could see were twinkling white flowers. Some stayed small and subdued, while others were larger, demanding more attention, but all of them shown with outstanding luminescence. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood completely rigid, taking in the sight.

You then felt a soft breeze, pulling your out of your shock with a shiver before you felt an unexpected heat radiating from behind you. You felt a soft hand trace your jaw from somewhere behind as you held your breath expectantly. His hand moved from your jaw to trace the outline of your neck, gathering your hair lying there and tying it tenderly away from your face. Your sudden inhale as his fingers tickled the nape of your neck caused him to chuckle, his close proximity allowing you to feel his warm breath fanning over your shoulders. You suddenly felt balmy as he leaned his face closer, his breaths coming out in an intoxicating manner, dancing around the area where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Look up.” He said, his voice coming out in a heady whisper. You gasped as you complied, your head whipping up too quickly, causing the male to snicker behind you. You couldn’t seem to care as you took in the sight before you. The once empty sky was now covered in brilliant gleaming stars, all feeling as though they were staring right at the two of you, encouragingly. You weren’t sure what they were encouraging, but just the silly thought itself had you laughing softly, your eyes slowly trailing over everything in front of you yet again. If it weren’t for the questioning hum the man had released you may not have even noticed the sturdy arms wrapped loosely around your waist or the cool skin of his cheek now resting on your exposed shoulder. You may not have even taken note of the breath now fanning comfortingly over your own blushing cheek of the look in his eyes as you turned slightly in his arms to get a better view of this new expression.

He took in your overwhelmed face as you tried to form words for the thoughts racing through your mind and he laughed, his head tilted back and chuckles racking his toned chest. You took in the movement behind his green tunic, complimenting his pale skin and you blushed again, turning your face away sharply. He gripped your shoulder with one hand softly, making sure not to startle you, while his other hand outstretched softly to point towards the cushiony grass beside of you. You took the hint and made a move to sit and take in the view before you.

He giggled as he helped move the layers of your dress away so you could sit comfortably before taking his seat beside you. You found yourself becoming encumbered with exhaustion and slowly with the gentle breeze swaying the twinkling lights, you let your head pull to the side to rest easily on his shoulder. He moved slowly as to not jostle you allowing more comfort for your tired form.

“You know, lady. I never caught your name..” He said, a hint of gentle humor lacing his deep baritone.

“I’m sorry..” You hummed out, “I’m y/n. Supposed princess of this kingdom.” You said, your tone sounding harsh even to your own ears. “I’m not sure I’d like to even ask who you are.” You said, laughing to help lighten the mood.

“Hmm.. I don’t think I was ever given a name where I am from.” Your brow furrowed at his response as you moved your head from its resting perch to look up at his questioningly. He laughed again, his body folding as he chuckled at your expression. “A story for another time, y/n.” You accepted his response begrudgingly, distracted by the way your name sounded on his lips.

“So what are you going to do when morning comes, little one?” He said, no malice in his tone. You sighed harshly flopping backwards to lay in the soft grass fully, surrounding yourself in the perfumed scent of the fluttering flowers. He took that as an answer in itself as he watched you, amused.

“You need to go back.” You groaned loudly as these words left his lips and he laughed as he shushed you, pushing you softly causing you to dramatically roll over laying your head on his thigh, a noise of protest leaving your bemused lips. “Let me finish would you!” He continued, annoyance playfully covering the syllables while he ran his fingers gently through your messy hair. You smiled, appeased for a moment while staring longingly towards the stars above. The sky was lightening and you felt your smile slipping at the realization that they would be gone again soon.

He frowned watching your face grow frantic with concern before softly resting his cools fingertips on the bottom of your chin, non-forcefully turning your face in his lap to look at his own passionate expression. He tilted his head to match the angle of your, his silliness making you giggle softly before continuing.

“You may have to go back, but you can always come back here, it’s all for you.” He let his eyes slowly trail over you, landing on your hand twisting anxiously tearing up small strands of the grass without realizing. He slid one of his hands comfortingly down your arm, trailing his fingertips lightly over the back of your hands. It felt as if getting a sunburn, getting too close to the beauty of something terrifying. “Look to the stars, I’ll always be there, watching and waiting.” He finished, his voice getting deeper with each second he stared at your animated expression staring up at him expectantly.

You felt your eyes welling up with tears at the peace being here brought to you, knowing it would be ending soon. You tried forming words, prayers, but your lips were too wobbly and my voice was too weak.

“When will I see you again? Wh-what should I even call you??” You finally managed to squeak out, the thick, hot tears you felt curling down your cheeks didn’t sting nearly as much as the thought of leaving him here, only to return to the torturous duties lined up for you at your home. He smiled sadly at you, blurring your senses with how ethereal he looked. His hands twitched against your wrist as he continued his comforting path, avoiding your eyes as he furrowed his brow in thought. Without thinking, out of desperation for an answer, you swiftly intertwined your own fingers with his, your palms slotting together as if fitting missing puzzle pieces together.

“You’ll see me when you need me.. but I’ll always be there.” You pursed your lips in a pout and he smiled again, taking his hand once tangled in your hair and running it slowly, methodically over your furrowed brow, smoothing the skin there and allowing your features to find solace again. “and why don’t you give me a name that you like, y/n.” He offered, his voice softer than you had heard it before, no amusement, only timid hope.

A name. Something so uniquely human. Something lovingly crafted for an individual. Something that holds meaning and myth. Something totally your own. You frowned in thought for a moment and he watched as your eyes glazed over patiently. Suddenly, you sat up rigidly, turning to face him, leaning closer then you had ever been previously. The sudden movement startled him, causing him to laugh awkwardly, his eyes blown wide while staring at your expectant and excited face.

“I’ve got it! I’m going to call you Felix!” You exclaimed. He furrowed his brow, tilting his head and repeating the syllables slowly, testing the way they tasted on his lips. Then he smiled at you teasingly, taking your breath away briefly. You rushed to find some way to explain yourself before the heat fighting it’s way up your neck found your cheeks. You stared into his eyes determined before explaining. “It means happiness. I found happiness tonight, here with you, when I couldn’t back there. They may not ever make me happy, but I have you. My happiness. My Felix.” You finished, grinning widely, appeased.

His grin couldn’t be contained as he laughed softly at how cute you could be. As he let his grin take over his features he let his eyes drift over your close proximity. His fingers began to unfold from between yours, drifting their way up your wrist, feeling your rushing heart beat. They slowly danced over your shoulder making you shiver slightly, as he noticed his teeth took purchase in his bottom lip, the movement catching your eye. His fingertips barely tickled the skin of your neck, causing goosebumps to break out over your skin. Once his hand pushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear you could hear your own breathing, practically panting at his gentle actions. The longing in your eyes causing his eyes to become hooded with a guarded emotion.

Slowly, his hand found its place on your cheek, his cool palm was in great contrast to your too warm skin. You reveled in the feeling, yearning to remember the way this solace felt in this moment. He smiled softly, a flash of teeth all you could see before he was leaning in tenderly. He allowed you to make the moves on your own as well, only continuing forward when you would and only you were both nearly touching, so close you were breathing the same air, he allowed himself a glance at your pink lips. His tongue darted out to wet his own lips before he pulled back slightly a serious expression on his face.

“Can I?” His voice came out breathy, heavy with something you couldn’t name. You smiled softly, pleased with his ability to ask, always thinking of your feelings first. You couldn’t even resist long enough to answer before you were wrapping some of your fingers around his larger wrist, tangling the others in his too pretty hair, pulling his face towards yours and connecting your lips together passionately.

This kiss was unlike anything you had ever heard of, instead of sparks and passion it was butterflies and subtle hints of laughter you could feel bubbling in your chest. The kiss was lingering and slightly bittersweet. You could taste the saltiness on your lips from your tears mixing with the sweetness of his lips on yours. It was perfectly melancholy and grossly beautiful. Tragedy in the form of serendipity.

As you parted Felix’s hands soothed your cheeks and wiped your tears, a smile playing jokingly on his lips. He poked your nose and leaned forward to kiss your forehead lovingly. You smiled through the onslaught of tears and gasped at the dawning sky above you now. Your eyes frantically searched for stars you knew you wouldn’t be able to see anymore, until they fell on Felix’s sad expression. He tried to smile softly for your sake as he stroked your cheek gently.

He then removed himself from you, before standing and helping you up as well. Once you were both standing, staring at each other with eyes full of unspoken words he breathed in deeply before leaning in to plant another swift, stolen kiss on your lips. You smiled as he pulled away, staring at the way his handsome features curled in amusement at your shocked form. He then, without your noticing, had moved his hand to the back of your head and with a soft mutter of words he knew you wouldn’t understand, you were suddenly unconscious in his arms. He lifted you, bridal style, and began walking back towards the forest where you had first met.

——

Once you all were back to the castle, a gentle breeze swaying the curtains, he laid you tenderly on your bed, smoothing your hair out around you and covering you with your own cushion-like blankets.

“Forgive me, princess. I usually would have asked.” He laughed quietly as you stirred in your sleep, as stubborn as you would have been awake. “I won’t be here when you awaken, but I’ll be back for you. You never have to be alone.” He slowly leaned forward, delicately placing a feathery light kiss on your lips. He made his way back to the window, tiptoeing as to not wake you, before turning to get one final glance at you.

“I’ll stay for you, y/n. Always.” He said, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips as a singular tear, the color of moonlight fell from his eye before all that was left in the room was a lonely princess and a gentle, light air dancing through the window like laughter and stolen kisses on a night only two will remember.

——————

#lee Felix #Felix x reader #lee Felix x reader #reader insert #skz #stray kids #straykids x reader #rogue princess #royalty!au #princess!reader #moonchild!felix #star!felix #fluff #angst #self indulgence at its finest #one shot #ill edit this later

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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Conner Kent Week 2021, Day Three: TTK Shenanigans

the thing is, sometimes his ttk wasn’t enough.

kon used to go on and on about his tactile telekinesis. he’ll admit it too, with less shame than a poppy seed. superman didn’t have tactile telekinesis, superman couldn’t lift and shape and break things with his mind, superman could piece together things that were irreversibly broken. kon could.

he used it often, and couldn’t count the number of times it had come in use.

bart, thrashing his body violently, that cheerful expression even in the toughest times wiped clean and covered by sheer desperation. there was a metal collar around his neck, thicker than kon’s wrist and looping in a hopeless, unbreakable circle. it was digging into bart’s skin, thin red lines the same colour as the stripe on bart’s suit being rubbed repeatedly until they widened, until blood was dripping from bart’s throat, until muscle memory had the speedster slamming against the restraints in an attempt to vibrate through, but his powers were gone. kon barged into the holding cell, and his ttk was able to reach bart before kon could. he spread it wide and strong, concentrating on dismantling the inhibitor collar into tiny, tiny pieces in less than a second; then he used his ttk to cradle bart’s limp body gently as he flew to young justice headquarters.

cassie hunched over in pain, long since haven given up keeping her usual, gentle smile plastered on her face. she was curled up on the couch, a veritable mountain of blankets covering her. kon heard the repetitive sounds of dramatic conversation coming from the television as a failed attempt at distraction. cassie had sent tim on a grocery run using his shiny black credit card linked to wayne’s bank account for essentials, which consisted of gummy worms, overly chunky banana smoothies, and lots of chocolate. bart was busy writing up all of the reports that tim and cassie were required to do, tim for batman and cassie for the league as young justice’s leader, for the sake of easing some of the stress on cassie’s shoulders. none of that helped her now, though, as she bit back another groan at what kon could only assume was a horrible cramp. so he blanketed her in his ttk, heating up the air near her stomach, and felt a flutter of usefulness and pride when cassie sighed in relief and voiced a thousand thank-yous.

tim, falling through the air, not making a move to fight against it. watching his best friend get thrown from a helicopter had been petrifying enough, especially since tim didn’t have any backup, because kon technically wasn’t supposed to be here. his heart stopped in his chest as red robin plummeted downward, wind whipping his hair wild, cape billowing around his body in a useless parody of a parachute. it took kon entirely too long to realize that tim wasn’t going to do anything. he made no move to reach for his grapple, no secret parachutes being revealed, not even a thought to call for help. that spurred kon into action. he shot forward faster than a bullet, but his ttk was already there, stopping tim’s fall abruptly and wrapping around him in an invisible embrace while tim gasped, eyes flying open. kon’s ttk held tim until kon was able to gather up the smaller boy in his own arms, squeezing him tight to counter the trembles wracking from tim’s body.

so yes, kon was eternally grateful for this particular superpower. his control over it was more impeccable than he led people to believe, in a large part due to knockout’s training. it was a well-honed tool, the most used in his arsenal, and kon utilized it to the best of his ability.

but sometimes, it just wasn’t enough.

kon could use his ttk to create a light show of the most epic proportions, simulating firecrackers and miniature exploding stars and every other wild thing he could think of into the blank expanse of the night sky. if he was devoted enough, he could draw a giggle out of bart, a whoop and a cheer at an explosion of colour. but no amount of brief, fleeting laughter could bring back bart’s hope. his joy and happiness in the little things, his lightheartedness and jokes in the face of things that would break a grown man. now, life just wasn’t fun for bart anymore, and a light show wouldn’t change that.

kon could use his ttk to hold cassie in as many hugs as she wanted, desperately trying to pretend that his life and his relationship hadn’t changed at all. but no amount of unseen embraces could take away from the fact that he had been gone, he had been dead. cassie shuddered, trying to keep herself from letting a tear slip loose as she told him how desperately she’d kissed and fucked tim, how furiously he responded as the two of them tried to look for kon in any places he may have lingered. kon’s heart broke for the both of them, but no matter how much his ttk could fix, it couldn’t put cassie back together again.

kon could use his ttk to be as useful as he could, trying to give tim a reason to keep him around, trying to prove to him that not everyone would abandon him, that kon would stay if tim just asked him to. he fixed broken equipment without touching it and organized haphazard notes without looking at them and made a meal without stepping foot in the kitchen of tim’s penthouse. it wasn’t enough. tim had withdrawn, pulled back into the hard shell of red robin. glimpses of emotion that tim let slip were all kon was able to catch, only because he’d known tim for so long. though, tim seemed to forget that, pushing him away with a shaking hand and a desperate voice that sounded like it was trying to convince tim instead of kon. and no amount of tactile telekinesis would pry tim open just a little, just enough for kon to slip inside.

what was the point of having superpowers, kon thought, if he couldn’t use them to help his friends when they needed his help most.

i know the prompt said “shenanigans.” but. i got angsty. have some sad core four.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el week #kon el week #conner kent week #superboy week #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #young justice headcanon #young justice fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

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say-the-name-sebongie · 4 years ago

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I like me better when I'm with you

Synopsis: Seokmin was perfect to everyone besides him and nobody had been able to make him think otherwise. At least not until her.

Pairing: Seokmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, highschoolAU!Seokmin

Warnings: self-esteem probs

Word Count: 1.6k words

Part of Lee Siblings Universe

It was no surprise that everyone liked Seokmin.

Seokmin was a model student with constantly high grades who respected his teachers and peers. He was always the MVP during his baseball games. Not to mention his kind demeanor combined with his dreamy looks that made seniors, juniors, and batchmates, both male and female, swoon whenever he walked by. The boy's angelic voice that they got to hear during the school's annual music festival was a divine addition to his existence.

Everyone wanted to be his friend if they didn't want him to be their boyfriend.

But there was something Seokmin tried his best to hide from everyone: his shockingly low confidence in himself.

Even if his teachers told him he was the best, he felt as if it still wasn't enough.

Even if his coach called him "the team's most promising MVP", he felt as if all the mistakes he had ever committed made him less of a player.

Even if people praised him after every song performance, he would inwardly berate himself for not reaching the right notes.

And even if countless girls (and some boys) confessed their love and admiration to him, he always politely turned them down because he didn't think he was worth it.

In other words, Seokmin hated himself.

On one afternoon, Seokmin was feeling particularly down. His vocal practice that morning didn't go as well as he wanted and the last class happened to be the class that would give his dreaded quiz results back.

He tapped his pencil against the table, obviously restless, when the teacher came in with a bunch of papers in hand. She handed the papers to the class president who started going around the room and handing each student their respective paper. A glimpse of the red grading ink made Seokmin's breath hitch. The moment he got his paper he flipped it to the side without the score. He slowly lifted it to take a peek. A big red 95 was enclosed in a circle. He groaned in frustration.

I'm such an idiot. Why didn't I get a higher score? He berated himself inwardly. The boy didn't notice his seatmate peeking at his score until she gasped so loud that he jumped. He whipped his head in her direction to be met the most beautiful set of twinkly and surprised eyes he had ever seen. It took him a few seconds to collect himself. He must have looked so shocked because the girl immediately apologized.

"How do you always get such high scores? It would be a miracle if that happened to me," she exclaimed. Seokmin looked away. There was nothing special about his score if he couldn't even get that one simple question right. "It's not that high, i didn't even get the easiest question right." he grumbled as he folded the piece of paper and shoved it into his backpack.

The girl shook her head. "I beg to differ, sir if you get most of it right then one little question doesn't matter because whether you got that question or not you still scored high," she said sassily, waving her index finger in circles in front of his face. He smiled at her gestures. They had been seatmates since the year started and he realized that he didn't even know her name. He found it odd that he didn't notice her before.

She told him her name was _____.

And unlike Seokmin, _____ was confident about his talents.

Whenever he would bring himself down she made it her job to pull him back up. _____ would pat his back and pretend to award him a medal whenever he got back a quiz, no matter what the score was (though since this is Seokmin we're talking about they were never very low). She went to his baseball practices and cheered for his team during games. She stayed by his side when he practiced his song performances, calming him down when he got too frustrated in his voice and buying him lemon tea to soothe his throat and would sneak backstage to wish him luck even if she would always get in trouble. During lunch she would tease him endlessly about the number of juice boxes and cookies admirers would leave on his table, saying that he was basically a celebrity and should be paid for just existing.

To Seokmin's surprise, her encouragement worked. He became more positive and less hard on himself. The boy started to become more forgiving when he made mistakes and calmly start over or promise to do better next time. He liked it when she complimented him, encouraged him. To be honest, he liked just being with her in general. Her soft warm glow made him feel fuzzy inside. He liked himself when he was with her. She made him feel like he was enough. And that just being enough was okay.

Those kinds of compliments used to not work on him. It didn't matter who tried and how they did them, those kinds of thing just didn't work on Seokmin. So his friends, parents, and mentors were just as surprised as he was when they noticed him smiling at his quiz paper or being so calm after committing a mistake in practice.

There was just one problem.

His friend Mingyu was the one who pointed it out to him. The way he would glare at anyone she was friendly with and grit his teeth when he heard her laugh with someone else so he would try to take her attention. When he would shake his leg in annoyance when she was taking too long in telling the boy in front of her that he did well. He would stare at her until she noticed him or when he would be irritable during the days when she couldn't attend his practices. Seokmin couldn't keep his composure when that happened.

"You have a very serious disease, Seok," Mingyu said one day during lunch as he watched his friend stare at _____ from their table. "And what would that disease be Dr. Kim?" Seokmin mocked him, laughing. Mingyu looked him in the eye, serious all of a sudden.

"Jealousy."

Jealousy? Was he jealous? His mind went back to the times he would fight others for her attention. When he got annoyed if she looked at someone else. _____ was his friend not their's; of course he would be jealous.

The "disease" Mingyu had diagnosed him got worse when Seokmin and _____ finally exchanged cell phone numbers. A day didn't feel complete if he didn't receive a goodnight text from her or if he didn't get a reply after asking if she had already gotten home after school. He would smile at his phone so much that his brothers had started to tease him.

"Momma I think Seokmin has a crush on his phone." his baby brother Chan reported to their mother one night while they were cleaning up after dinner. She merely smiled and lifted the toddler to sit on the counter.

"You don't even know what a crush is." Seokmin retorted. The younger pouted and crossed his arms in defeat. "I know what a crush is and that is exactly what you have." their eldest brother Jihoon said as he entered the kitchen. The toddler stuck his tongue out to Seokmin who returned the gesture. Their mom gave the older boy a look that made him take back the action. As soon as she had gone up the stairs and disappeared into the master bedroom, Jihoon grilled his brother for information.

"Who is it?" Jihoon asked, he and Chan both intently stared at him. The poor boy held up his hands. "I don't like her that way."

Seokmin poured out his thoughts to his brothers, who were kind enough to just listen (though Jihoon had to cover Chan's mouth a couple of times to prevent him from interjecting). He told them about the day he first noticed her and the days that followed. The times he would smile because she complimented him. The days he felt like he was on top of the clouds with joy because she said that he looked nice that day. How he never felt that way when anyone else said those words but it was different when she was the one saying it. How a few seconds of looking at her made him feel funny inside.

As he talked, he began to realize what was happening to him. What that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest meant.

"Dude, I think I do like her."

Jihoon chuckled as he lifted a sleepy baby Chan from the counter, carefully cradling his brother in his arms. "Took you long enough."

Seokmin couldn't sleep that night. Why on earth would he like her? She just gave him compliments and smiled at him. There were a lot of other people who did that.

So why did he seek her attention?

Why did he feel so happy when she talked to him?

Why did he want her all to himself?

Why did he like himself better when he was with her?

He opened his phone and scrolled through her messages, unconsciously smiling. Mingyu misdiagnosed him, the disease he had wasn't jealousy. He knew that wasn't it. He had a different disease. But he couldn't quite put a finger in what it was.

On the other side of the wall, Jihoon had already figured out what was happening to his brother. As he tucked Chan into bed he smiled to himself. Little Seokmin was growing up. He walked to the door to turn off the light when he heard Chan moving under his blanket.

"Why is Seokmin always smiling at his phone?" the little boy said, sitting up and sleepily rubbing his eyes. Jihoon laughed and pushed him back into bed.

"Seokmin's in love."

#seventeen #caratwritersclub #svt #seokmin #lee seokmin #dk #dokyeom #seventeen scenarios #seventeen oneshots #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic

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tchallasbabymama · 4 years ago

Text

who you are (T’Challa x Black!OC)

6,281 words

A/N: Damn I wrote a lot. So I want this to turn into a series based around music, but I haven’t figured out the series title yet. It’ll come to me.

As soon as the sun peeked out over the horizon Ashanti’s eyes blinked open. It was going to be a normal sweltering January day in Wakanda, so the merchant tribe girl took advantage of the cool morning air. She threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts before putting on her running shoes and heading out into the world. She stood on her porch to stretch her muscles while she watched the sun begin to peek between the trees. Once she limbered up, she took off for her daily run around the streets of Birnin Zana. Her mind cleared as she processed her dream from the night before.

In her dream, a faceless man walked into her store and browsed for a long time before turning to face her. Ashanti was drawn to him. Her arms found their way around his neck and her lips met his. She felt a buzzing all throughout her body and her lips heated up like she had eaten hot peppers. Their breathing synched up and his hands roamed from her neck all the way down to her ass, cupping her cheeks and getting dangerously close to her dripping pussy. He introduced his tongue to her mouth and her knees buckled as she let out a desperate moan. Just as his right hand slipped under her skirt the sun rose and woke her from her utopia with her mystery man.

Ashanti kept a dream journal, and this one was one she wanted to have on record to come back to later. It felt like more than a dream, it felt too real for it to just be a dream.

Ashanti pushed through her run and made it back to her house in record time. When she walked in the door she could hear the sounds of her roommates finally rising for the day. Ashanti loved living with Kwame and Binta, and there was never a dull day around the house living with the two rambunctious fraternal twins. Both of their parents had died by the time they graduated high school, and the big empty house had been left to them. When the twins met Ashanti they had been looking for another roommate to make it feel like a home again, and it was friendship at first sight. They knew they had found a good match.

“Good morning Titi!”

“Ayy look who it is! How was the run today?”

“You wouldn't have to ask that if you’d join me,” Ashanti teased knowing damn well Kwame wasn’t one for non-sexual physical activity. Kwame rolled his eyes and shoveled more plantains onto his plate.

“Girl you know I don't do all that running mess. For what?!”

Ashanti and Binta giggled as they shared a knowing look and the older twin handed her a plate full of food that she had just whipped up while Ashanti was on her run.

The three of them had lived together since college and fell into their morning routine years ago. Ashanti would rise at the crack of dawn and go for her run, then Binta would get up and make breakfast which was somehow always ready by whatever time Ashanti got back and Kwame finally decided to join the land of the living. Ashanti asked her once how she had perfect timing every morning, and the twins responded in perfect unison.

“Magic.” “Magic.”

Ashanti never asked again, mostly because she couldn’t tell if they were serious or not. She wouldn’t be surprised either way.

Per their routine, Ashanti shoveled her food down and made her way to the bathroom for a shower. She turned on the water to let it warm up, and in the meantime she stripped down to her birthday suit and admired her body in the mirror. She had a love-hate relationship with her body for most of her life, but she found that the more she saw herself naked the more she loved what she saw. Ashanti wasn’t vain though, it was a self-esteem thing.

Once she tore her eyes away from her naked form she stepped into the falling water and just stood there for a moment letting it all wash over her. She grabbed her lemongrass and black soap bar and her loofa and went to town washing her body from head to toe.

Since she was a little girl Ashanti had a fear of singing in public, but when she was in the shower she never held back. Thankful for the soundproof vibranium-laced walls, she belted her heart out to her favorites. She even had a playlist just of songs to sing in the shower. Sometimes she would build a queue, but other times she would let the shuffle button have it’s way. This was one of those times.

This perception's got me restless I ain't dreamin' 'less you're there I supply what you require I need you like I need air You give me life with all the light you're shinin' Oh, there's no question It's evident that you would compliment the love you're not havin'

So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

She carefully swayed her hips and sang along with Luke James, feeling every bit of the emotion in his words. The song made her feel warm inside like a first crush. That nervous yet adorable energy swirled around her as she reveled in the feeling of puppy love, something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Ashanti had discovered western music when Wakanda opened itself to the world, and she wanted to personally thank King T’Challa for allowing the joys of R&B and other genres from across the diaspora into her life. The melodies and the beats were reminiscent of music from her home country in many ways, and she gravitated towards the love songs, songs about heartbreak, and ass-shaking music. She needed to feel it either emotionally or physically.

She could’ve stayed in that shower for hours if she had the time, but Ashanti had errands to run and work to do.

After getting dressed for the day, she grabbed her bag and flung it over her shoulder before heading back downstairs. Binta was lying across the couch staring at their newly installed hologram tv in contempt. Ashanti noticed it was playing some American reality show about rich colonizers that try to look like Black women.

Binta sucked her teeth.

“Can you believe this? Why do they look like that?!” Binta half yelled at Ashanti and half yelled at the screen.

“Because, girl look at us,” Ashanti gestured at her and her roommate’s beautiful assets and they both fell out laughing.

“You heading into work already? It’s barely 8”

“Yeah, I need to get some shopping done before I open up. Be good!” Ashanti pecked Binta on the cheek before sliding her shoes on and heading out the door for the second time that morning.

Ashanti walked through the bazaar and took in the sights and smells. She made quick work of her shopping list and even with being stopped to say hello to every other person she encountered on the way, she made it to her store in record time. She loved the energy of the marketplace as a little girl growing up in the Merchant tribe. When she was seven years old her parents, Chidi and Bisa Mostafa, opened up a restaurant, Zana Cafe, smack dab in the middle of the Birnin Zana Bazaar that’s been going strong for twenty years. When the shop owner from across the street grew too old to run her art supply store she sold it to the Mostafas for a low low price. There wasn’t another shop like it in the market, so Chidi and Bisa tasked Ashanti with keeping it running.

Ashanti eventually saved enough money to buy the shop next door and she transformed the space into a combination art gallery, supply store, and amateur marketplace. She wanted it to be a space where artists of all skill levels could come together, create, and even sell their work. She sold her own handmade crystal jewelry and had a children’s section full of finger paints and fun craft projects. The kids loved when she displayed their art along the shop walls. There was even a classroom towards that back of the multi-use space she used for community art lessons.

Ashanti had named the space after the first person to encourage her art, her umakhulu Taj. She missed her grandaddy more than anything in this world, and she dedicated her creative space to his memory. People from all over Wakanda knew of Taj’s, it being the only shop of it’s kind in all of Birnin Zana.

Chidi waved at Ashanti from across the street while he prepared the restaurant for the morning rush, and she blew him a kiss before stepping into her shop, her happy place.

She closed her eyes and smiled a warm smile before drawing the curtains and letting the light in. She turned on her music and danced around the shop, straightening up as she went. She still had that same Luke James song on repeat from earlier.

Did I mention, I love tension? No more stressin' when we touch My salvation, my temptation I felt safety in your clutch (clutch) Come save me now, just stick around No, you ain't gotta stay long How you make minutes pass like seconds I feel like I gotta hold on (hmm) So how would you feel If I gave you somethin' real? If I told you I was serious I'm not spinnin' your wheels If I open up my heart Took a chance with you and maybe you can show me who you are

A chill went down Ashanti’s spine as that warm fuzzy feeling filled her once more. Her face felt flushed and she kept grinning wider and wider as she shuffled around Taj’s, sweeping all the dirt out the back door. She went to sweep her stoop when the sight of the Dora Milaje caught her off guard. It wasn’t often that royalty made their way to the market, but she knew every shop owner would be clamoring to gain whoever’s attention. She kept sweeping then opened her shop doors wide before heading back inside.

Before she could make it halfway back to her spot at the front counter, she heard the chime that alerts her when new customers enter.

“Hi, welcome to Taj’s, what can I-”, her voice caught in her throat when she turned around and saw the king flanked by two of his Dora Milaje. She noticed two more stationed at the door and looked past them to see her nosy parent across the street staring into Taj’s to get a glimpse of what's going on.

“Kumkani wam.”

Ashanti saluted King T’Challa and a deep rumbling erupted from his chest before he cracked the most adorable crooked smile.

“Please, none of that.”

____________

Mornings in Birnin Zana were always calm and quiet until about 10am when the whole city woke up and went on about their day. This wasn’t the case for King T’Challa who preferred to start his day at 6. It was the only time he could really have to himself without interruption. He would always go for a run around the palace grounds or out into the lush Wakandan forest right as the sun poked out above the trees.

Another thing people didn’t know about the King of Wakanda is that he loved to cook. As a boy he spent so much of his time hanging around the kitchen staff they jokingly put him to work one day and he took right to it. Not only did T’Challa love mornings because of the solitude, he loved mornings because of breakfast. It was his favorite meal of the day. When he was a teenager he often cooked breakfast for his family, but as an adult it’s something he only had time for sparingly. He always had a meeting or a mission or something important and unavoidable in the way.

However, today he had the time because he had taken the day off. As king he answers to nobody but Bast and the people of Wakanda...but there are a lot of people and a lot of problems to solve so sometimes the king needed a day to himself. T’Challa trusted his sister and his cousin to keep things running smoothly in his absence,and he made them swear to only contact him if the country was about to collapse.

These would be a beautiful 24 hours.

After making his way back to the palace he quickly showered and threw on some clothes for the day. T’Challa felt relaxed being dressed-down and thought about maybe doing it more often. The royal robes were so stiff.

The king slid into the kitchen with a smile on his face, humming to some American song he couldn’t get out of his head but didn’t know the words to. He scooped up some mandazi the kitchen staff had left for him and took a bite while he rummaged through the refrigerator looking for whatever called to him. T’Challa found what he was looking for and got to work dicing and mixing and grating his ingredients. He had just thrown a pinch more of cardamom in the pancake batter when his mother strolled in.

“Mholo, unyana wam!”

“Good morning to you too mother,” T’Challa chuckled at the Queen Mother’s jovial mood.

He kissed her cheek and flipped the pancakes on the griddle. He turned around just in time to catch Ramonda taking a swipe of the batter.

“Mama you should know better. What kind of role model are you for your young impressionable daughter?”

“Hush, child”

The two smiled and settled into a comfortable silence while T’Challa sautéed up fragrant vegetables, making Ramonda even more impatient. Just as she was about to ask T’Challa how much longer until they could eat, her young impressionable daughter rounded the corner looking like she had been caught in a tornado. That was the normal for Shuri, a notoriously wild sleeper.

“Good morning mother, Gap Tooth,” Shuri yawned. “ Where’s Braille?”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his little sister’s nicknames and cracked eggs into the pan.

“You know that boy only shows up right when the food is do-“

Ramonda was cut off by the doors opening and Prince N’Jadaka strolled in with sunglasses on and the same clothes they saw him wearing when he left last night.

He noticed all three sets of eyes were glued to his hungover form. He was surprised when instead of admonishing him for his obviously very unroyal behavior they all broke out into laughter. He couldn’t help but smile himself.

“Long night?”

“Man you already know, we’ll talk later when there aren’t sensitive ears around.”

The two male cousins dapped each other up before N’Jadaka kissed his Auntie and little cousin on their foreheads.

“Mornin’ Auntie, Rugrat.”

“Mholo Daka.”

“Topographic map.”

Even T’Challa had to give her that one.

The family of four sat down and enjoyed the home-cooked meal of spiced plantain pancakes drizzled with honey, an egg and vegetable scramble, cheese grits, spicy sausage, and fresh fruit.

T’Challa loved seeing the look of satisfaction on people’s faces when they eat his food almost as much as his family loved eating whatever he put in front of them. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship.

After breakfast, T’Challa hung around and chatted with his family while they cleaned the kitchen. They never let him do this part, and since none of the Udakus were big on relying on the palace staff for every little thing, the prince, princess, and Queen Mother of Wakanda rolled up their sleeves to do some quick manual labor. Shuri and Ramonda washed and dried the dishes while N’Jadaka wiped down the table and countertops. He finished and the two male cousins went to take a walk around the gardens.

The second they stepped outside the palace T’Challa pulled out a blunt of the finest Wakanda kush and lit the tip. He pulled the smoke into his mouth and let it float up to his nose. He inhaled and then exhaled the smoke as he felt it take effect. He passed it to N’Jadaka and started talking.

“Last night…?”

N’Jadaka took a hit.

“My nigga...so you remember that hot lil river tribe thang I told you about?” T’Challa nodded as N’Jadaka handed him the blunt.

“So I take her out, right? Tell me why, we get to the restaurant she starts acting brand new? Turns out, this whole time we been smashing she’s trying to lock this down. So I paid for dinner and had Aneka take her home-“

“So where did you end up staying all night?”

“With the waitress.”

T’Challa stopped walking and glanced at his cousin before they both broke out into a fit of giggles.

They continued to walk and talk and pass the blunt back and forth. As they neared the palace doors the blunt had burned down to the roach. The two “went for a walk” so much they had it timed perfectly.

“So what you got planned for your day off?”

“Absolutely nothing,” T’Challa said, grinning from ear to ear. “And it better-“

“Stay that way, yeah yeah nigga I know. The Brain and I got this, go enjoy your day. Do some shit you haven’t done in a while. Be lazy. Make something. Get some pussy.”

T’Challa cut his eyes at his slightly younger cousin but couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. It had been a while for all of those things and damn did he miss them.

He clapped N’Jadaka on the back and turned to walk in the other direction.

“Good idea, umzala.”

“Which one?...Aye I know you heard me witcho supersonic hearing ass…”

T’Challa just chuckled and flipped off his cousin as he rounded the corner.

“Don’t ruin my country while I’m gone!”

“I should burn it down again just for that.”

T’Challa roamed the Birnin Zana Bazaar with his Dora Milaje for the first time in at least two years. Yes, he was a busy man with very little leisure time, but the Bazaar also held a lot of memories that the king would rather not revisit. As he passed the winding staircase he sighed, thinking of his former lover Nakia. She was off living a happy life in America with her girlfriend Janelle and their two goofy looking dogs, and he was genuinely happy for her. He and Nakia had love for each other, but they eventually realized they weren’t in love and decided to split. The memories were bittersweet.

The king decided he would pay an old friend a visit. Growing up, T’Challa only had his father. His biological mother died in childbirth, and since his father didn’t meet Ramonda until he was 12, the only mother he knew as a young child had been his nanny Ada.

She was a firecracker of a woman who never let him get away with anything, and he loved her with his whole heart. She was still an unofficial member of the Udaku family with an open invitation to visit the palace whenever she wanted. T’Chaka and Ramonda had tried to offer her a room in the palace but she refused, saying, “It’s too quiet here.” After she hung up her nanny hat, Ada became an entrepreneur. She had always loved arts and crafts so she opened up an art supply shop in the middle of the Bazaar, thanks to a hefty check from the Udakus. T’Challa used to love visiting Ada’s shop, but when she grew too old to care for it anymore she sold it and he hadn’t yet seen what became of it. He decided he’d stop by the shop before visiting Ada.

People were everywhere, but T’Challa loved the hustle and bustle of the city. Many of the past monarchs avoided mingling with the public more than necessary, but T’Chaka had taught his son the value in spending time among the people. In fact, T’Challa’s favorite part of being king is when he makes his rounds to visit all the tribes.

The king and his Doras strolled through the market, periodically stopping to converse with excited children.

They rounded the corner of the main streetway and he noticed a woman sweeping the stoop in front of what was Ada’s shop. He watched the sway of her hips and tried to read her lips to figure out what song she was singing. As he got closer he could just make out her angelic voice singing over the acoustic guitar in the unfamiliar song. She had a dreamy smile on her face that made her deep dimples come out of hiding, and when she turned around to head inside the shop he noticed the thickness of her ass and thighs.

“Bast have mercy.”

His feet automatically carried him into Taj’s, and when she turned around to face him his knees nearly buckled. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

——————————-

Ashanti felt her cheeks heat up. She couldn’t believe the king was in her shop of all places.

“My apologies, your highness,” she stammered and the broom fell out of her sweaty hand.

Before she could even reach for it, the king had already lifted the old broom from the floor. He passed it to her and when their fingers brushed against each other they both felt static in their fingertips, though neither of them broke their poker faces.

“Truly, it is not a problem.”

T’Challa tore his eyes from hers and looked around the multi-use space. His eyes and eventually his body gravitated towards the childrens’ artwork along the walls, taking it all in with an adorably crooked smile.

“How long has this shop been open?”

“Coming up on two years now...your highness.”

“No need for all the formalities miss…”

“Ashanti Mostafa, my kin- I mean, um, sir,” Ashanti stumbled over her words, unsure of how to address the royal.

“I took the day off so just call me T’Challa, Miss Ashanti,” he winked and continued around the space.

“Is Taj in today?”

“No, Taj was my umakhulu. He died five years ago, so when I got this place I named it after him because he’s the one who taught me how to draw and paint and mold clay...he shared his love of art with me, so I’m paying it forward with all this,” Ashanti gestured outwardly.

T’Challa was in awe of her. He listened to her story and walked towards the artist marketplace section of the shop. His eyes gravitated towards a golden vibranium filigree choker with an intricately wrapped garnet pendant.

“These pieces are beautiful, I would love to get one for my mother and my sister. Does the artist take custom orders?”

“They will for the king.”

“Well sometimes being royalty has its privileges. Ayo, will you get the artist’s information from Miss Ashanti here?”

Ashanti couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was almost stunned to silence. The king liked her pieces.

“Actually your hi-,” she was stopped by a playful warning look from the king.

“T’Challa, I’m the artist.”

T’Challa became more and more enamoured with the shop owner every time she spoke. She was beautiful, talented, and her aura seemed to cover everything in its reach with her warm glow. He would definitely be visiting the Bazaar more often.

Ashanti rounded the counter and fiddled with her rose gold kimoyo beads before her other designs were projected in the air in front of the king.

“I thought you said you painted and molded clay. This is certainly not that,” he leaned on the counter as his Doras shared a knowing glance.

“That’s just how I started,” Ashanti explained. “I still paint sometimes when the mood hits, but nowadays I mostly craft jewelry. Oh I just got into beading, and you wouldn’t believe how sore my fingertips are.”

In that moment it took all of T’Challa’s willpower to keep from reaching out and kissing her calloused but delicate fingers.

Ashanti unconsciously leaned in closer to the king.

“So what brought you to my humble shop, T’Challa? Bast, it feels so weird to call you that.”

T’Challa chuckled, and Ashanti nearly blushed again from the deep rumbling.

“You’ll get used to it eventually. As I mentioned before, these pieces are beautiful. I would like to commission two. What is your price?”

“Two hundred a piece.”

“I’ll give you one thousand.”

Ashanti’s eyes blinked and her smile gradually crept up her chubby cheeks. The two went back and forth for over an hour over the details of the necklaces before the king bid the shop owner adieu with the promise to return in two weeks. Before he reached the door he turned around, almost catching her staring at him.

“I forgot to ask. Miss Ashanti, do you normally play the same song on repeat in the store?”

Ashanti hadn’t even noticed Luke James’ “Who You Are” had been playing ever since she opened her doors. Her mind had been clouded by the king’s powerful aura and kind eyes, and the only sound that mattered in that moment was the smoky melody of his voice. She blushed yet again.

“I don’t normally, but something had me a little distracted today,” she winked at the king. “The artist is Luke James, one of my favorites from America. You should check him out if you like what you hear.”

Her eyes locked onto his and he smirked.

“I’ll do just that.”

---------------------------------- A week passed and both Ashanti and T’Challa had listened to that same song on repeat more times than they could count. Neither one could understand how they had become so smitten with the other in a 90 minute time span.

Even the people around them had begun to notice the changes in their behavior. Unsurprisingly, the first two to say something were N’Jadaka and Kwame.

N’Jadaka slipped into T’Challa’s office after the council meeting wrapped up. His cousin had spent the last hour settling land disputes and was in desperate need of a break. They were too busy to take a walk, so T’Challa poured two generous glasses of the strongest palm wine in Wakanda. It wasn’t enough to make them drunk since the heart shaped herb running through their veins burned off alcohol too quickly for one glass to cause any damage. They’d have to drink a bottle a piece to even start to have a good time. However, they felt the effects of cannabis and psychedelics just like anyone else.

“What’s got you smiling so much? It’s starting to get creepy, you looked way too happy during that land dispute and I know you hate doing that shit.”

“I don’t know what-”

“You're really gonna lie to me? Your favorite cousin? I’m hurt.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes at his least favorite cousin’s dramatics.

“You are my only cousin, N’Jadaka. And besides, I really do not know what you mean, I have just been in good spirits lately.”

“Mmmhm. You got some pussy, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“You sure? Because you're acting like you got some pussy.”

On the other side of Birnin Zana, Kwame watched Ashanti glide around the living room with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Girl I know you’re not that happy about dusting. Spill.”

“What?” Ashanti giggled. “I’m just in a good mood today, it’s been a good week at the shop.”

Kwame cut his eyes at her and pursed his lips. He didn’t believe a damn thing she said. Binta told him she had seen Ashanti humming and slow dancing in the kitchen the other day, so he knew something had to be up.

“Did you get some dick? Or some pus- nah that’s a dick face right there.”

“Who’s a dick face?” Binta came in and grabbed some coconut water from the fridge.

“Apparently I have ‘just got some dick’ face,” Ashanti responded with an eye roll.

“Yeah you’ve had it for about a week now. Spill.”

“That’s what I said, twin!”

They did their annoying twin handshake and turned back to Ashanti.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s just been a good week at the shop.”

Ashanti tried to get back to her dusting, but they wouldn’t let her.

“Nuh uh girl, get to talking.”

“B…”

“We’re waiting…”

Ashanti rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck, or so her mom would say had she seen it.

“Ok, fine! This man came into the shop the other day and had me blushing like a sixth grader with her first crush. He was just so...fine, and smooth, and sweet…”

Ashanti drifted off into a daydream while the twins sat there taking it all in. Kwame was the first to speak.

“Titi, your nose is wide the fuck open. Did you get his name, tap beads, something?!”

Ashanti couldn’t admit she had a crush on the king. For one, she was a little embarrassed because she knew how foolish she looked pining after a royal who could never return the sentiments. Secondly, if she told them she would never hear the end of it.

“Uh, his name is...Amare.”

Binta’s eyes went soft.

“Amare, I’ve always loved that name. What’s he look like?”

“Like Bast carved him out of vibranium.”

Kwame and Binta look at each other again.

“Like I said...wide open. So when are you opening those legs too?”

Ashanti tried to look busy.

“I’m uh, not sure if he’ll be back. His accent sounded American.”

She knew that would get them off her case. Ever since T’Challa announced Wakanda’s riches to the world they had opened up their doors to the Lost Tribe. For the last two years, Black people from all over the globe had travelled to Wakanda, so it would be an easy cop out for Ashanti.

“Well damn girl, you finally get a man and this is how it goes...maybe one day the king will allow outsiders to move here permanently and you can get your Prince Charming.”

“Heh, maybe. So what’s for dinner?”

——————-

Another week passed and the day had come for Ashanti and T’Challa to see each other again.

Both of them were nervous beyond belief, but only one of them had someone to confide in.

“I’m telling you, T, just be cool. Plus, you’re the king, she’d have to be an idiot to say no.”

T’Challa had planned to ask Ashanti out on a date. He couldn’t get her out of his head the whole two weeks they were apart, and he took it as a sign from Bast that she was something special.

He was nervous to see her again and he hoped it didn’t show on his face.

Right in the center of the Birnin Zana Bazaar, Ashanti fiddled with the custom necklaces she made at the king’s request. She hoped they were good enough for royalty and her nerves started to get the best of her. Her hands shook and her breathing sped up. She took a deep breath then walked out her shop and across the street to her parents’ restaurant. Her mom was the first to greet her.

“Hi honey, what brings you over to our side of the street?”

“Bisa you know the girl wants something!” Chidi yelled from the supply closet.

“Hush!”

“Hello to you too baba!” Ashanti laughed at her father’s antics.

“I’m just nervous. The king is coming back today...what if he hates them? What if Queen Mother or Princess Shuri hate them?!”

Ashanti started to get worked up again and Bisa rubbed her back in slow circles. Chidi brought her a cup of tea and the three of them sat outside the cafe in silence while she calmed down.

“Sweetie, it’ll be ok. He wouldn’t have commissioned the pieces if he thought they wouldn’t like them. And he’s seen your work, how could he not like it?! If so he’s a fool.”

“Baba! This is the king we’re talking about.”

“I don’t care! Anyone who can’t see my baby’s talent isn’t worth my respect.” He kissed her on her forehead and when he opened his eyes he noticed the women in red coming around the corner.

“Someone’s early…”

Ashanti looked confused for a moment before her mother gestured for her to turn around.

There stood the king and his Dora Milaje.

Bisa and Chidi quickly stood and saluted the king, Ashanti giggled and they looked at her in disbelief.

“That is unnecessary, please.”

“We are sorry, my king. Welcome to our restaurant, we are Ashanti’s parents. I am Chidi Mostafa and this is my wife Bisa.”

“We are so honored to have you.”

T’Challa reached out and shook their hands, shocking the older Mostafas.

Ashanti wondered if she looked this starstruck last time...she concluded she probably did.

However, this time when she stared at him she made sure to take in all his features. The faint crinkle around his eyes and his frown lines reminded her of their slight age difference and the stress of his job. His big bright eyes made him look like a puppy and his gap-toothed smile leaned perfectly to the left.

“Unfortunately I cannot stay long, I have other business to attend to that I cannot get out of. I do hope to see the two of you again, but I believe Miss Ashanti here has something for me.”

“I sure do. Mama, Baba, I’ll swing by later.”

She kissed their cheeks and walked shoulder to shoulder with the king to her shop across the street.

“I have had your parents’ food before, in my opinion it is the best in all of the Bazaar. You are very talented people, Miss Ashanti.”

She was getting really tired of blushing, but it happened again.

“Thanks T’Challa. So, um, let’s get to it so you can get to your important kingly duties.”

They shared a smile.

She pulled out two large velvet boxes and opened them. Sitting among the silk were two necklaces that were more beautiful than T’Challa had imagined.

Shuri’s necklace featured a rough sapphire gem wrapped in wire hanging from a structured v-shaped vibranium collar. The stones set in the vibranium gave the necklace an ombre look as the stones grew lighter and lighter all the way down to the sapphire. The necklace would land about mid-chest on the princess, and T’Challa just knew she’d love it.

Queen Mother’s necklace was even more intricate and more like the necklace he had seen his first time in the shop. The gold filigree collar necklace was dripping with small gems hanging from every loop, with one large ruby set in the middle.

“Miss Ashanti…” T’Challa barely breathed out.

“Oh no, You hate them.”

“No, no! Quite the opposite actually. They’re beautiful, I-I’m speechless.”

Ashanti breathed a sigh of relief.

“As I mentioned before, you Mostafa’s are very talented…and beautiful.”

Ashanti gasped. There was no way…

“My king?”

“What? It is true. You are a very beautiful woman Ashanti, among many other things.”

That damn song started playing in her head and her smile pushed her dimples deeper the larger it grew.

“Thank you, T’Challa. You’re...alright looking.”

They both had to have a laugh at that one.

“Just alright?” He leaned in closer to her across the counter.

“Hm, maybe”

“Will you let me change your mind?”

“How would you do that?” She asked, leaning closer and getting a whiff of the cocoa butter on his skin.

“If you’d accompany me for a night out tomorrow evening I could show you.”

Ashanti froze and backed up. For a minute there she almost forgot who he was, but she had to remind herself that he wasn’t just a cute customer. He was the king, and he had to have been out of his Bast-given mind.

Unless this was something he did often.

“My k-, T’Challa...If you are looking for someone to play with and discard, I suggest looking elsewhere. I’m sure there are plenty of your subjects lined up in waiting for the bachelor king to swoop them up.”

Ashanti immediately regretted her words, but they just seemed to tickle T’Challa.

“Miss Ashanti, I am not that kind of man. I believe you have me confused with Prince N’Jadaka.”

Ashanti snorted. She had heard many stories about the prince and sort of assumed all royals behaved in such a manner.

“Besides I am much too busy to play the field since becoming king. Had you known me 5-10 years ago it would’ve been a different story.” T’Challa winked and noticed her look away to hide her smile. She remained silent.

“Please, it would bring me great joy to see you again. If not I will leave you alone. Just think about it.”

He tapped his black and purple kimoyo beads to her rose gold ones.

“There, now you have my contact information. It’s my direct line, please feel free to use it.”

With that he turned and left the shop. Ashanti had to pinch herself to make sure she was awake. After a minute it started to sink in that the king of Wakanda had asked her on a date.

“That really just happened.”

She stood there in a daze and was only pulled out of it when a customer walked into the shop.

“Welcome to Taj’s!”

—————

Chapter 2

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #t'challa #t'challa x oc #playlist

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

Eye Candy (Ronald Speirs x Reader)

Just a something that popped into my head and made me laugh.

Can be read as reader or OFC.

Warnings: sexual tension (no smut though)

Words: 3k

Here’s the link for the sequel- Distraction

"I hope that lieutenant asks for a dance tonight."

"Which one?" Mary asked, adjusting her nurse's cap over her brunette hair. "The one with the scar on his cheek or that other one from Easy Company? I can't keep track of all the men who catch your fancy."

"It's not that many. Besides, there is nothing wrong with admiring an attractive man in uniform." Lucy stated, giving a over-the-top wink.

"And there, girls, is why Lucy joined the Nurse Corps!"

The four nurses in training laughed as they walked back to their barracks from their studies. The humid Georgia air felt sweltering, even more so after the short rain shower that morning.

When I first came to Camp Toccoa, I had no idea I would be fighting the weather in conjunction with my studies and the leering looks from the soldiers. Not that I let any of it bother me. I was here to serve my country and help save those brave men that I could. My family had been proud of my decision to join the Nurse Corps. So here I found myself walking with the small group of friends I had made, glad for the weekend to finally arrive.

"Mary is hoping to catch the eye of a certain dark haired lieutenant named Nixon…"

"Lucy! He is married!"

"So? Why does that matter? It's just a dance, unless you are thinking about a different kind of dance with him…"

Mary's face turned tomato red as she swatted at Lucy even though she was giggling like a schoolgirl admitting her crush.

"What about you?" Rebecca asked, nudging me as I walked beside her. "You never talk about who you fancy."

I shrugged. "I'm here to prepare for war. I don't have time for men."

"See! This is why you need to come out with us tonight! You spend all your time thinking about anatomy and sutures and bandages, you're going to miss all the opportunities for fun before we ship out!" Lucy exclaimed, spinning around with her arms wide.

"You know I'm on rotation tonight at the aid station. Even if I wanted to, I can't go out tonight."

"I think you're making excuses." Rebecca pointed her finger at me.

"Fine! There's got to be at least ONE man who catches your eye." Lucy said, sided up to me, her bold red lips pursed. "Tell us who and we'll stop bothering you tonight."

I thought about the proposal. It was at least two hours before they left to go to the dance hall and I had to check in for rotation at the aid station on base. If I did not say anything, I could already tell I would be the center of talk and gossip while they got ready. Not my favorite place to be. On the other hand if I told them, they would certainly make fun of me. His name had never come up in our group which surprised me. Every time he had to stop by the aid station for something or I glimpsed him either in the mess hall or at PT, it felt like my heart beat became irregular and butterflies erupted in my stomach. Not that it mattered because nothing would happen. He had never so much as glanced my way. Not that I wanted him too. No. I was here to focus on becoming the best nurse possible...not handsome men with eyes that could pierce stone and lips that looked like they tasted like the finest whiskey and a commanding voice that sent my heart into overdrive.

Lucy's shriek interrupted my thoughts. "Oooo...there is someone! Spill! It's obvious you're thinking about him now! Oh my stars, you're blushing! You HAVE to tell us now!"

I opened my mouth but Rebecca glared at me and uttered, "don't even try to lie."

Dammit.

My thoughts raced a mile a minute to try and found a way out of this situation. Looking at my friends' eager and smug faces, I knew the only thing that would get me out of confessing was the apocalypse...and even that was debatable.

"Fine. But you are all sworn to secrecy of the highest order!" I finally caved in.

They squealed and dragged me off the path, ignoring the startled looks from those walking nearby, and against the nearest building which happened to be a barrack not far from ours. On the one hand I knew if I waited to tell back at our barrack, other nurses would be there and I certainly did NOT want the whole camp to know. Yet it also made me uncomfortable to say his name out here in the open.

There was no way this was going to end well.

"I bet it's Winters." Mary stated.

"Who?"

Mary rolled her eyes at Lucy. "The redhead from Easy Company. He does seem swell, if on the quiet side."

Rebecca shushed them both. "If you two would shut up, she might actually tell us."

My throat felt swollen. Oh why had I agreed to this? I could just throw out a name and they would not know the difference, right? Maybe I should just say Winters and be done with it.

Lucy seemed to be able to read my mind though. "If you don't say it, I'll walk straight to the officers' table at dinner tomorrow and tell them all what happened when you got drunk last month."

Oh no! I could feel the blood drain out of my face. It did not help the smirk that grew on her face like the cat that caught the canary. She knew she had me. Maybe I could give hints and they would be satisfied?

"Um, he is from Dog Company."

"Is he an officer?" Mary asked.

"Yes…"

"Is he handsome?" Lucy wiggled her eyebrows.

Rebecca swatted Lucy's arm. "What kind of dumb question is that?"

"I can't handle the anticipation!" Mary practically bounced on her toes, a huge smile on her face. "Just tell us!"

"It’s Lieutenant Speirs."

All three stared at me like I had just grown a second head or dropped my drawers right there.

"What?" I shrugged, fiddling with my apron, "I think he's handsome...and intriguing."

"You know the rumors about him right?" Rebecca stated flatly, eyeing me like she was concerned for my mental state of being.

"Yeah, but they are just rumors. We all know the rumors they say about Lucy and that private from…"

Lucy reached for me to cover my mouth but I swatted her hand away, stepping out of her reach, smiling.

"No wonder she never goes out with us. He always stays on base."

"It's not like that!" I slipped my arm through Rebecca's, trying to encourage the group to start walking again. "He has never even said a word to me. It's alright though. I like admiring him from afar. He's like something delicious for my eyes."

That got the girls laughing and I could not help joining in. Maybe it was good that I told them? A bonding thing or something. Not like anything would ever come out of my crush or admitting it.

"I think your mother must have dropped you on your head one too many times as a baby." Lucy said to me, slipping her arm through my other one. "But at least it's not that guy from Easy who is always trying to pinch our asses."

"Cobb?"

We all shuddered. No one liked him.

We continued our walk, talking and laughing about different men from the companies. They argued which dresses they should wear tonight and if they had enough time to completely redo their hair. I listened, adding my thoughts occasionally but just happy to absorb the energy and joy they emitted. Even if I could not join them tonight, which I did not mind too much, alcohol and me did not mix well as we learned, I liked helping them get ready. It was a nice change from talking about blood, wounds and sepsis.

If only I had taken the time to look behind me, I would have seen a pair of dark eyes following me with the curl of smoke from a cigarette drifting around them.

*****

I stood in the aid station's supply room, counting bundles of bandages on the shelves before me and writing the numbers on the clipboard in my hands. It was mundane work but I enjoyed it. The station was quiet, no one had come in yet to get their hands bandaged from a fight or for something to help with the hangover they would certainly have come morning.

The charge nurse had stepped out to get some missing paperwork and most likely have a cigarette.

Softly I hummed to myself. I only had about three hours left on my shift then I could go back to barracks and sleep.

I heard the main door open but when no one called out I assumed it was the charge staff returning. Odd, she had not been gone that long. Humming still, I bent over to grab a basket from the bottom shelf to count the scissors next.

"You enjoy admiring me from afar, mmm?" The deep voice spoke from behind me.

Started by the sudden voice, I whipped around, almost dropping the clipboard still in my hands.

Lieutenant Ronald Speirs leaned against the doorframe to the supply room, arms crossed over his chest. Dressed in a clean uniform with his garrison cap and the paratrooper emblem on it, he looked like an Adonis.

Then his words sank in.

"Ex...excuse me?"

He tilted his head slightly as he studied me with those dark eyes, a side smirk lifted his lips. "And apparently I am something delicious for your eyes?"

My brain went on the fritz…here was my worst nightmare come true. I leaned against the counter behind me, needing the extra support. "Ah, um, who...who said that?"

"You should be more observant of where you are divulging secrets in the future, particularly in front of an officer's barrack with the door open."

Oh no.

My face felt like it was on fire and I averted my eyes, utterly embarrassed. I hugged the clipboard closer to my chest, wishing to be anywhere in the world but here at this moment.

He chuckled, the sound shooting through me like a rocket. Even when he was purposely humiliating me, he was still attractive. There should be a law against that.

"Lieutenant Speirs," I started, my mouth full of cotton and I refused to lift my gaze off the floor. How could I ever look at him again and not spontaneously combust into a supernova of humiliation? "I apologize for my statements. It was unprofessional of me."

"Is it true though?"

I squeaked when he spoke again, suddenly closer. In the next moment I could see the tops of his boots in my vision.

"Sir?" My voice cracked as I spoke. Oh God, could this get any worse?

A calloused hand gripped my chin, slowly encouraging my chin up.

In a last ditch effort to maintain whatever dignity I had left, I kept my eyes downcast, moving only up to his chest as he tilted my head up.

"Nurse, look at me." His voice deepened with the command.

My stomach flip flopped at the sound, heart rate accelerated dangerously. I swear he could hear it since his smirk grew ever so slightly. My eyes finally met his dark ones as he loomed over me, holding me hostage with his intense gaze and his hand on my chin. I could not help but wonder if my pupils dilated.

Dammit.

"Is. It. True?"

"Yes." The whisper came unbidden out of my lips, as if summoned forth by him without my consent.

His other hand tugged the clipboard from my hands, having had it pressed against my chest like a shield. The whole time our eyes remained locked. It was both exhilaration and nerve-wracking. This terrifying and handsome man who had never directly spoken to me and I had secretly pined for was now within inches of me, his hand on my chin and gazing into my eyes.

I absent-mindedly wondered if I would faint as all my brain cells seemed to suddenly have vanished.

His hand upon my chin slowly began sliding up my jawline, the softest caress to cup my cheek then slip behind my neck. His touch was intoxicating.

"Mmm…am now? Do you still admire me this close?"

Words were useless at this point. I was a fly caught in a spider's web. I could only stare at him, a prey afraid to move once it found itself within a predator's gaze.

He closed the distance between us further, only a hairbreadth of space between our chests. Lowering his head he brought his mouth close to my ear to whisper, "I am flattered, but we are headed for war. Distractions will only get us killed."

"Am I a distraction?"

I had no idea where the question came from since my brain was running on autopilot and all my senses felt like they were on fire. It was when he tensed minutely that I realized what I actually asked.

His hand dragged agonizingly slow down my back until he gripped the counter next to my hip. His other hand mirrored, both hands gripping the counter I was pressed against. His thumbs rubbed small circles on my hips, keeping me in place even more than his body crowding me.

"Every damn day you distract me." He confessed, his hot breath on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I want to touch you and taste you for myself. I want to throttle every man that receives your touch, even if you are only doing your job."

My breath was caught in my chest. It was only when his lips landed on my neck that a sound between a gasp and a moan escaped me. My hands flew to grasp the front of his ODs, to keep myself upright as my legs had turned to jelly. His lips caressed my skin, trailing kisses and nips from my neck to my jawline. At one point one of my hands slid up to knock his cap off, carding my fingers through his short hair. His hands skimmed up from my hips to my waist then to rub the underside of my breasts with his thumbs before trailing back down to my hips. I moaned at his touch, a fire blazing through my veins. He seemed to like that, a possessive growl came from deep in his throat as he sucked on the corner of my jaw. If he had not been holding me up, I would have been a lust-fueled puddle on the floor. I knew tomorrow I would most likely have bruises on my hips for how tightly his hands gripped me and on my neck due to his affections but all I could think of was I wanted more. I wanted him to hold me tighter, hold me closer, touch me more, kiss me harder. I wanted more of this intoxication. I wanted to drown in him and never resurface.

Time both stilled and spent up. I was unsure how long we remained in that precarious position, all my focus on the man holding me hostage on the brink of ecstasy.

The slamming of the front door broke us out of our haze. His lips left my skin, but he did not move. His chest rapidly rising and falling to mirror my own. Shifting back slightly his gaze met him. I wondered how flushed my face was but in the moment I did not care. He had never looked so beautiful. Swollen lips, lust-filled eyes, his ODs slightly wrinkled from my hands clutching at them.

God I hoped I remembered this until the day I died.

Slowly he took a step back, his hands trailing over my hips until the last minute to fall by his sides. "Until next time. Have a pleasant evening, Nurse." After one final longing look, he turned and silently walked out.

Only when the front door shut did it startle me out of my dreamy haze.

Wait...that's it?

Until next time?

What does that mean?

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. What just happened? I knew it was not my imagination since I could almost feel the bruises forming on my hips and neck. I would need to get some ice, otherwise I was unsure how I would explain love bites to my friends tomorrow. My fingers drifted over my lips, in awe of what just happened.

That single touch threw a bucket of cold water over me.

That whole time we never actually kissed!

WHAT?!

On more than one occasion as I laid awake at night on my cot, I had fantasized what his kisses would feel like. And now I blew it.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." I muttered, digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. Self-deprecation would only get me so far right now. I opened my eyes and dropped my hands to my sides. To my surprise a garrison cap laid just next to my feet. Squatting down, I gingerly picked it up, holding it in my hand like a precious jewel. The paratrooper emblem immediately let me know who it belonged to. I forgot I knocked it off his head.

A plan began to form in my mind.

There was only one way he was getting his garrison cap back.

He would have to trade it for a proper kiss.

#easy company #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs x ofc #nurse corps #reader insert

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s-c-r-i-p-s-i · 4 years ago

Text

MyQuil™ Cold & Flu: Powerful Nighttime Relief

🖤 🖤 🖤

Pairing: Laurie Strode x Michael Myers

Rating: Mature

CW: Incest, nonconsensual cuddling

Word Count: 2,277

Summary:

Textbooks were strewn across her messy bed with good intentions, peppered with crumpled up dollar store tissues that rubbed her nose raw. A full, unopened bottle of NyQuil sat on the nightstand, taunting her; she’d bought it as a last resort but was too stubborn to actually touch the damn thing.

She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself.

Notes:

Thank you so much for commissioning me, Beck!!! It was a joy to delve into this ship. 🖤 I think it was kinda taboo to talk about this ship even on the DBB server until you broke the ice and I'm eternally grateful because it's a GOOD one.

& Thank you to Pugge for coming up with this GODAWFUL title, and buying me boba, and keeping me sane ILY MY MUSE, MUAH 😘 🖤 🖤 🖤

Michael had never stopped chasing her. Nor she him.

And that balance was more delicate than she’d like to admit. Always the looming sense that despite everything she did, all the measures she took, she wasn’t completely in control.

Turns out that feeling was right. She just wasn’t expecting that her greatest enemy would be her own body crapping out on her.

She was already disgustingly vulnerable as it was. No need to sign, seal, and deliver an invitation to the Devil himself.

You know - she was willing to bet he didn’t have to put up with this kind of thing. But that would be opening up a train of thought she’d rather not have.

It was cold in the apartment. Laurie never put the heat above 60 degrees. And any other day, that would have been perfectly manageable, but she’d soaked clean through her sheets overnight with sweat, and now she was freezing.

Sarcastically, she wished Michael was there so that he could put her out of her misery then instantly regretted it, chastising herself and wondering when her sense of humor had gotten so dark. The answer, though, was obvious. He’d changed her. Morphed her, warped her. She couldn’t even relate to her peers anymore. And they certainly couldn’t relate to her.

She was in some half-state at the moment. Awake enough - the bitter cold made sure of that - but too sore and lethargic to actually do anything about it. Just lying there shivering wasn’t going to be very productive, though. At some point, she’d need to decide what she was going to do, whether that was sleep or study or… what.

Droopy eyes blearily drifted over to the alarm clock. 3 AM.

God. The whole day. Gone.

Her gaze wandered over to the television playing quietly in the background, its soft light playing across the walls. Had she really left that on? Falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV had been commonplace as a kid, or while she was babysitting, but now… Well, she preferred to be able to hear her surroundings.

How unlike her to forget...

Wouldn’t hurt to leave it, would it? She wondered with a shiver, eyes slipping closed. Just this once…?

Impossible to tell if it was seconds or hours that had passed when Laurie awoke with a start at the sensation of the bed moving under someone’s weight. Eyes cracking wide open, she stared at the wall in front of her, the way her heart kicked a crater in her chest immediately sobering.

She knew. Exactly. Who it was.

It sounded ludicrous, even to her. She wanted to doubt. To believe that there was a thin margin it could really just be a very… very foolish burglar. But she knew better than that.

So… what should she do?

The obvious answer was fight, but something told her not to move. Not yet. Wait. See if she could map out her attacker’s positioning first; anticipate what he was going to do. She might only have one chance. Had to make it a good one.

Strategically, she was in a tough spot. Her bed was adjoined by the wall on two sides so that she couldn’t be snuck up on from behind, but evidently, she’d gotten turned around in her sleep - all that feverish tossing and turning. Now she was facing the wall and flying completely blind.

It took all her willpower not to move, scraping, with tooth and nail the bottom of the barrel of her everything. Defying every instinct, every ache in her muscles to do otherwise. She could hear him swiping her textbooks out of the way like a cat knocking things off the table with zero regard for her personal belongings; one of them audibly smacked the floor and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

In the past three years since that one fateful Halloween and everything proceeding it, Laurie had seen him a handful of times. But never this close. Just glimpses, here and there. Hard to tell what was real and what was just… unchecked psychosis. (She refused to do something so foolish as dull her senses while he was still out there - fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. She wasn’t going to let anyone else die if she could help it.)

He seemed to come and go like a stray. Sometimes leaving evidence in his wake. Missing clothes… things in the wrong place. Hard to tell if he was trying to bait a reaction out of her, or if he just… didn’t care enough to try and cover his tracks.

On a dangerous whim, she’d tried to chase him down a couple of times. It never amounted to anything, though. Wouldn’t be seen unless it was on his terms.

To think he was nearly in her grasp now…

She tried to make the move as natural as possible, like she was merely shifting in her sleep as she crawled her hand beneath her pillow and wrapped her trembling fingers around the hilt of the knife stowed away safely underneath. If she wasn’t already sweating, she would have started now.

He seemed to hesitate behind her, as if unsure if she was awake or not - though she knew better than to think it was out of fear. She got the impression that, for whatever reason, he didn’t want her to be awake for this.

Well, fat chance, it was like an elephant stepping onto the bed. He had to weigh some two hundred and something pounds.

For a moment, they were both perfectly still.

Then he began to move again, lifting the blanket up and… keeping it there. She could feel the cold air on her sweat-damp skin, on her bare legs and hip, her nightshirt having ridden up in the middle of the night.

There was a pang in her shoulder, a desperate urge to preserve her modesty and yank it back down over her ass, because she could feel his eyes burning into her.

It drew out too long, and something inside her snapped. “Michael!” Laurie whipped around, the words hissing through her teeth, sharp and scolding, before she could even stop herself.

Her heart dropped to her stomach as soon as she realized what she’d done.

There was a long pause. Odd, how much she could interpret from the silence, even without a real face to put to it. He was definitely… thinking. Contemplating something, staring at her with those mismatched eyes from behind his mask.

She did that to him. It was a point of pride for her, and maybe it shouldn’t have been, but the physical proof she could leave lasting damages on him was… Satisfying.

Whatever he was set on doing, he apparently decided to carry on with it even if she was awake, the weight of his knee pressing into the mattress as he loomed into her space.

Digging her heels into the bed, she kicked herself back until she felt the wall behind her, but he just wouldn’t stop.

She had to strike now.

Fingers tightening around the knife, she lunged for his throat, only to be brought to a screeching halt mid-air as his hand clamped around her wrist. A metallic clatter jarred her, Michael dropping his own knife so that his other hand was free to pry her stiff fingers off the blade one by one, until there was a second clattering as it too hit the floor.

Then he shoved her back onto the bed with such effortless force she bounced on the bedsprings.

Like a snake coiling and striking she reared her leg back and kicked right for the center of his gravity, but he just snatched her ankle, yanking her down a couple of inches.

Her stuffy head was spinning from all this motion, a twinge of pain blooming behind her eyes. And she didn’t know what his end goal was, but that didn’t stop her from thrashing and kicking up a storm as he manhandled her around, her own hair flying in her face, bodies bumping until she didn’t know what was direction was up.

Far too quickly, she wore herself out, the fight slowly leaving her as her body went lax, panting for breath and mind reeling as her brain tried to catch up and physically place herself, because she wasn’t getting anywhere struggling mindlessly.

She was on her side, her back pressed up against what she was fairly certain was his front, in some vicious mockery of spooning, and he was just pinning her there with both arms, waiting it out. A patient boa constrictor.

After a moment of her just lying there, one of his hands moved from around her waist to her arm - she jerked as if to elbow him, but it was a feint, and a weak one at that; she didn’t have the strength to put any real oomph into it. Her whole world was pulsing, dilating and constricting, blood rushing through her ears. No thought. Just raw nerve. A bird that’s just flown into a window.

Gradually, she realized he was examining her scar. Prodding and pushing at it, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch and stretch at the skin. She wondered if he felt the same way about it as she did the marks she’d made on him; satisfied. That same primitive feeling of ‘I made this.’

The number of times they’ve been this close have been few and often far between - and always chaotic, no time to smell the roses, as it were. Maybe that’s what he was doing. Examining her while he had the chance, while she was too weak and tired to yowl and spit and kick and fight. Playing with his food. Pushing the peas around on his plate.

It was strange, feeling him treat this permanent artifact of violence that he put there with such… He wasn’t being gentle, exactly. But something about it felt so antithesis all the same.

Grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm up and out from the blankets, he pressed his thumb into her palm and firmly rolled his giant fingers across her metacarpals neither gently nor ungently, more like he was trying to feel out her skeletal structure.

Strangely, it didn’t feel awful. Something about it redirected straight to her stomach, a light, lurching feeling but not an unpleasant one. It wasn’t that off from a manicure massage thought she knew without a shadow of a doubt pampering her was not his intent.

He was just being a creep. Like normal. Just… a lot closer than usual. So close she could hear his breathing. Feel his breathing, despite the number of barriers that should have prevented it; hot and warm on the back of her neck.

It wasn’t long before she felt his fingers creep into her hair. She allowed it. What the hell else was she going to do? In the same off, incidental way, it wasn’t the worst. Didn’t feel deliberately nice, but that’s because it wasn’t, it wasn’t for her benefit at all. And yet, every movement had tingles shooting down her scalp, it was so unexpectedly good.

A number of things to call him came to mind. Pervert being one of the first, though she wasn’t sure that’s what this was about. Maybe she was the weird one, for feeling anything other than utter revulsion at him touching her like this. He was her brother, for God’s sake.

She began to zone out while he messed around; Michael eventually moved on from her hair, but by the time he did, she was nearly half-asleep from the warmth he was radiating, finding it a whole new struggle just to stay awake. A grope at her elbow, here. A touch of her knee, there. Invasive. Bothersome. But non-threatening enough that she was starting to slip against her will. At one point, her aching eyelids had dropped closed and she hadn’t managed to reopen them since.

Unbothered, he continued exploring, his finger pushing past her lip to feel at the gum of her canine, while she mumbled some vague groan of complaint, gently kicking him in the shin. Everything felt so sensitive. Ooey, gooey, sick and vulnerable, and tired.

And then, his fingers found her hip bone, pressing deeply, and something sharp ran through her, zinging through the fog.

He was all over her, Laurie couldn’t even keep track anymore, her breathing starting to pick back up as his hands roamed over her. The next thing she knew, Michael was running his hand up the column of her throat and the sensation went straight to between her legs. Arching, she shifted in search of friction, only to feel an almost painfully unyielding hardness poke at her tailbone.

Oh.

There was a definite pause before Michael removed his hand from her neck, returning to constricting her in place with both arms so tightly she was unable to move- which was probably the point, but what it felt like, was that he was trying to grind their bones together until she was absorbed into him completely; to solder them, the gap between them only ever arbitrary to begin with.

Eventually, she melted into his hold, the last pale dregs of fight left within her evaporating as she drifted off to sleep.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Thank you for reading!!! Please comment if you enjoyed; I am but a simple goblin who thrives on external motivation. You can find my socials on my carrd! Follow me on Twitter! Or, join the 18+ DBD thirst server 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 here!

#dead by daylight #halloween #michael myers #laurie strode #mylaurie #my writing #scripsi #oneshot

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justanobsessedfangirl · 4 years ago

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Harry Potter Preferences - Marauders Era - How He Asks You Out

Request from Anonymous: Can you do a Maradaurs preference, you can choose the topic just something cute and fluffy

Author’s Note: I wasn’t sure whether to include Peter Pettigrew or not. Obviously, he’s an awful person, but I think it could be interesting to explore his character when he was younger and more innocent. I also debated about adding Severus Snape. In the end, I didn’t add either of them. If someone would like another part including Peter and Severus, I’d be happy to write that! And if you guys have any other opinions and/or requests, I’d love to know!

Masterlist

Sirius Black

An angry bird was pecking your shoulder.

You were in Transfiguration, wand in hand, the clawed goblet in front of you halfway turned into a dove. To your right sat your best friend, her cup even less birdlike than your own, and to your left was a gray goose with a sharp beak.

It pecked you again.

“Would you stop that?” you huffed, shooting the bird a glare. You refused to look at the table of Gryffindor boys across the room, even though you could hear them snickering.

The goose looked up at you. Its beady black eyes matched your intensity. Its orange beak gaped open and it let out a loud honk as its wings spread, beating the air. Honking even louder, it sprung off the desk and flew toward your face.

Just before it bit you, it froze in midair. Professor McGonagall’s stern voice rose in place of the honking. “Mr. Black. Please do a better job of controlling your work.” With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall sent the goose whizzing to Sirius Black’s table.

He was surrounded by his friends, smirking. “Sorry Professor. I got distracted.” He looked at you, gray eyes bright with amusement. The goose sat in his lap.

You frowned, even though your heart beat a little faster at getting his attention. Ignoring those feelings, you sniffed and looked away. “You’re supposed to be making a dove, you git,” you muttered, making your friend giggle.

“I hope the rest of you are doing a better job of staying focused. There will be a test next class. I expect all of you to do well.” Papers rustled as the class began packing up. Over the swell of students chatting and laughing and gossiping, Professor McGonagall said, “Your only homework is to study.”

You scoffed internally. Fat chance of that with a trip to Hogsmeade this weekend. Before you let your thoughts drift too much, visions of chocolate frogs and sugar quills and fresh butterbeer already dancing through your mind, you raised your wand, said the spell, and tapped your goblet once more.

Metal morphed into feathers. The long stem split in two, forming short pink feet. Farther up, the cup rounded into a proud chest, the upper portion growing, growing, growing into a small head. In seconds, an adult dove stood in front of you.

Giddy joy brought a smile to your face.

“Wow! Nice work, Y/N!” your friend said.

“Yeah, that was pretty good,” said a different voice.

Slowly, you took your eyes off your dove, which was preening its feathers, and found Sirius Black. He was smiling, but when wasn’t he? He always looked like he was in on a joke you weren’t.

“Maybe you could give me some tips? Say...at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?”

You had to fight to keep your jaw from dropping. Your heart was beating uncontrollably and your tongue had dried up. Your palms hadn’t, so you discreetly dried them on your skirt while you tried to think of something, anything, to say. As if to prompt you to answer, your friend nudged you on the back.

“I don’t know if that’s the best environment to study,” you heard yourself say.

Idiot! What were you doing? Of course you wanted to go to the Three Broomsticks with him!

But what if this wasn’t real? What if this was another one of his jokes, one of the pranks that he and James and Remus and Peter always pulled?

“I’m sure we can figure it out.” Sirius shifted and you finally realized he was still holding his goose. He set it on your desk. The gray beast (you wouldn’t forget that sharp beak of its for a long time) waddled to your dove. The two birds stared each other down. After a second, the goose took a step forward. The dove allowed it. It moved closer. The dove tensed, tucking its wings in tight, then sat. The goose joined it. Both eyed the other warily.

You looked back at Sirius. “Okay,” you said. “I’ll see you at the Three Broomsticks. Tomorrow.” And I’ll figure out what game you’re playing, you thought.

Sirius smiled. “Perfect.”

Remus Lupin

The Gryffindor common room was quiet at such a late hour. The house-elves had come and gone, silently cleaning around your piles of books and parchment and quills. You yearned for your bed, but instead of calling it a night, you rubbed your bleary eyes and continued working on your partner project alone.

“Lazy Slytherin,” you mumbled. “Knows I can’t afford a bad grade.” You crossed out a line in your essay about how Laverne de Montmorency had invented numerous different love potions in the 1800s - you’d already written about it in the fourth paragraph, using slightly different wording. You reread the fourth paragraph, decided you didn’t like the sentence there either, and promptly crossed it out. In a margin in the second paragraph, you added the detail back in, creating the third iteration of the same fact and the same words in a mostly new order. “Thinks he’s too good to work on a project,” you continued grumbling.

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your quill and leaned back in your chair. Maybe I could just...your eyes fluttered closed. Moments later, they shot back open as a weight was draped across you.

“What-”

“Sorry!”

You looked down at the blanket that now covered your legs, then up at Remus Lupin, who stood over you with red cheeks and upraised hands.

He continued, “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought you might want a blanket.”

It took you a second to remember how to form words. It felt like you’d left all of them on the parchment, and now that you were face to face with Remus, who hopefully hadn’t just seen you drooling, you were struck mute. “Thanks,” you managed to say.

Remus rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Um, are you working on the Potions project?” He shook his head. “That was a stupid question, of course you are.” He gestured to the table, where your Potions textbook was wide open to the section on Amortentia. “How has your partnership been going?”

You shook your head. “Awful.” With that reminder, you picked up your quill, dipped it in ink, and scrawled another sentence about the most powerful love potion in the world.

Remus eased into the seat next to you. He smelled familiar, like warmth and the woods and the Amortentia Professor Slughorn had shown the class yesterday. You squeezed your quill tighter to try to get rid of that memory and make your blush go away, but you didn’t think it was working.

“Maybe...I mean, if your partner isn’t helping...I would be happy to...We could work together in the library tomorrow?”

Your quill stopped mid-stroke. If your blush had faded at all, it was back now with a vengeance. You glanced up and saw Remus staring intently at the table, his ears tinged pink.

“Yes!” you blurted. His head shot up, a smile growing on his lips. You cleared your throat and said, more calmly, “Yes, that would be very helpful. And kind. Thank you, Remus.”

“I’m happy to help, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered as he smiled sweetly at you.

Neither of you spoke for a second until you heard a crash from behind you. You spun around. Tumbling down the stairs to the boys’ dormitory were James and Sirius. Peter Pettigrew followed behind on foot, wearing a sheepish look. Next to you, Remus groaned and covered his face.

“Well,” said Sirius, struggling to untangle himself from James. “Did you finally ask her out?”

James Potter

The rain was coming down hard, making it difficult to see even your teammates, much less the glimmering gold of the Snitch. You wrapped your hands tighter around your broom and squinted. From this height, you could see the entire Quidditch pitch. In the stands were swaths of blue and bronze, your fellow Ravenclaws out in the bitter cold to support you. The other half of the bleachers were filled with people clad in scarlet and gold.

You scanned the air for the Gryffindor seeker, James Potter. Through fog and rain and hail you managed to catch a glimpse of him circling the Ravenclaw goal posts. Then, in a split second, he took off, barreling toward the far side of the pitch.

Without a second thought, you pointed your broom nearly straight down and zoomed after him. As you shot through the rain, the cheering grew louder and louder. You couldn’t make out any words. You didn’t care to, anyways. What you wanted was to get that Snitch before James Potter.

Losing would sting. But losing to him? That would kill.

You leaned forward, hoping to make your broom speed up. The wood vibrated under your hands. You felt the magic coursing through it. You gritted your teeth and pushed it faster.

James wove between the stands, swooping low and making Ravenclaws duck. He didn’t seem to be following anything, and for a moment you worried that you should have stayed up higher, surveying.

But then you saw a flash of gold. The Snitch hovered mere feet off the ground at the center of the pitch. You darted for it. James pulled up from a dive and went after it too, coming at it from the other side.

He was closer. You were faster. The Snitch flitted to the side. You adjusted with ease. It climbed; you climbed; James climbed. It dropped; you dropped; James dropped. It was running out of space to maneuver as the two of you closed in.

You gritted your teeth, wind whipping at your hair. The rain meant nothing, even as small drops pricked at your face like needles.

You would win. You were going to win. You were almost close enough to stretch out your hand. James was close too. He reached out a hand, you reached out a hand, one of you had to fly up or to the side to save you from a collision, but it wasn’t going to be you because you felt the flutter of wings brush against your fingers. The Snitch was there, golden and beautiful, and behind it was James, his hazel eyes focused and determined. You felt cold metal under your fingertips, you felt the Snitch, you felt James’s hand, you felt your bodies crash into each other, you felt the ground underneath you, and then you were rolling and tumbling along the pitch, limbs twisted with James’s.

The two of you came to a stop in the wet grass. One of his legs was across your stomach, and your left arm was flung over his chest. Your ribs pierced your sides with every inhale. Your head pounded. Your face felt warm with blood until the rain set to washing it away.

James groaned. You were so close that it was audible over the fans screaming and a professor yelling orders.

“Could you move your arm?” he asked through gritted teeth.

You tried and piercing pain raced from shoulder to fingertips. Biting back a squeal, you said, “Uh, no, I don’t think I can.”

“At least close your hand so I don’t have to see it,” he grumbled.

Your fingers twitched. You felt metal slick with rain. Delicate wings fluttered against your palm. You were holding the Golden Snitch. Ravenclaw had won.

Despite the pain, you grinned. You even let out a quiet cheer.

Beside you, James groaned again, this time out of annoyance. “Just wait until the rematch.”

“I’ll gladly beat you again, Potter.”

Other voices grew louder as professors made their way across the pitch.

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the hospital wing,” James said.

Your nose throbbed. Stars danced across your vision, falling with the rain. “Probably.”

“So it’s a date, then?”

A surprised laugh left your lips. “What?”

“I’ll pick you up in around, oh, 20 minutes or so? We can share a treacle tart after Madam Pomfrey fixes your nose.”

Professor McGonagall arrived, wand in hand, and you felt your body start to float, coming to a hover a couple of feet off the ground. Turning your head to look down at James was painful, but seeing the earnest, hopeful look in his eyes was worth it. He had the hint of a devilish grin on his face.

“Ok,” you said. “But next time you ask me out, don’t feel like you have to crash into me.”

His smile grew. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help falling for you.”

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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 4 years ago

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Friendly Encounters- Chapter Six

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Fluff, Angst

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Graphic Depictions of sex, Mature Language, Angst is Yoongi-centered

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 5k+

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Yoongi x Reader

Masterlist

⇤Prev | Next⇥

____________________

Yoongi watches, with his dick in his hand as Jimin wrecks you. Over and over again, your blue haired boyfriend pounds into you, as you continuously convulse around his massive girthy dick. He’s feeding you well.

“Jimin...I c-can’t anymore.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m almost there...come on babygirl, don’t give up on me now.” You shut your eyes, panting heavily as your final orgasm hits you in a euphoric wave of pleasure, making your muscles tense and you gasp as his dick twitches inside of you from all your clenching.

“Sorry...Yoongi...couldn’t take you too.” Your older boyfriend shakes his head, kissing your forehead lightly as Jimin recovers, pulling out of your sensitive body slowly.

“Don’t be. Seeing you two enjoy yourselves was reward enough.” Yoongi leaves a tender kiss on his boyfriend’s lips before departing to his room. “Take care of her, alright? And wash up, your mom should be home soon.” Yoongi gives you both a stern talking-to before departing with his clothes in hand.

“You okay?” Jimin asks while wiping you down with a washcloth. You nod, sitting up on the bed as your boyfriend brings you a warm towelette for your face. He had an extra one on hand. “Think you can walk?” You shake your head, limping as he helps you up. “Here, get on my back.” You don’t think much of it, as you both saw each other naked and took your relationship to the next level all in one night.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever. Hah...A hot bath was exactly what I needed.” Jimin smiles at you as you lather your body with soapy bubbles.

“Thanks. You know...you’re pretty cool yourself. Able to take me like a pro. Wow, that was some expert level stuff right the-”

“Shut up.” You splash him with water, laughing as you both have a water fight. After you finish bathing (with a lot of water ending up outside the tub, much to your inconvenience), you just end up cuddling with Jimin in your room. Your more bubbly boyfriend texts your older, introverted partner that he’ll be spending the night with you.

You’re not very surprised when Yoongi replies with the response that he is completely okay with it, since he spent a night with Jimin and left you in the dust. You also understand it, they’ve been together for so long that it probably feels weird to adjust now that a third person is a part of the relationship.

You’ve felt like you’re out of place, like the awkward puzzle piece that has the right shape and fits but it just doesn’t fit quite right. Obviously, you won’t express your concern to the gorgeous specimen of a boyfriend in front of you, because you’re worried about upsetting him.

His reaction is predictable though, since you’ve grown used to the barista by your side. He would probably just kiss you and hold you tight, claiming that if he let you go you would fly away like a butterfly, or maybe he would just tell you all of the things you want to hear and more. You’re already deeply in love with him, might as well just get everything out in the open.

Then there’s Yoongi. Your kind, sweet, gummy-smiling boyfriend. You initially thought he was annoyed with your friendship and closeness to Jimin, but he ended up expressing the opposite, and in the end your bond was strengthened even more. You’re afraid of disappointing him, or even worse, making him cry. You know his “tough guy” act is just that. The real Yoongi is frail but you’ve only caught glimpses of his vulnerable side. From everything you’ve seen so far, you can tell he still hasn’t opened up to you. You’re afraid of jeopardizing your relationship and possibly losing one-or two of your boyfriends in one go.

One wrong move and it can possibly be the end of your dream-like romance. You sigh, falling back into Jimin’s arms with one of your hands covering your eyelids and the other on your hip. Your boyfriend just grabs your hips and helps you settle into a comfortable position on the bed. He spoons you, and you’re mostly grateful as the warmth envelops you and lulls you to sleep relatively quickly.

Morning comes early, your alarm waking you up earlier than you expected. You groan, rolling over and finding your boyfriend still asleep and snoring lightly. Jimin looks cute even when he’s sleeping. You try taking care of your appearance, since you want to at least be remembered for dressing well during your last year of high school, but at the same time you dress for yourself. And your boyfriends. When you go downstairs in your short black miniskirt and denim jacket covering your sky blue tee, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you but most of the time stays quiet. Before you decide to hug him.

When he smells your expensive perfume, he asks, “Going somewhere after school?” You shake your head.

“I was thinking I could head to the café in the evening. I have a lot of busy work. I doubt any of the teachers even know what they’re teaching anymore,” You shake your head, before shuffling through your backpack and then pulling out your phone charger. Finally, after three and a half days of searching you’ve found your old friend! “Ah-ha! I knew I put it in here. Finally, now I can charge my phone during the 3rd period.”

Yoongi watches you scramble around to make breakfast as fast as you can before asking you another question, “Do you want a ride?” Curse your dirty mind for reading that the wrong way!

The car ride is long, and awkward. You and Yoongi had all this pent-up sexual tension possibly from the moment you met, and now that you’ve both seen each other naked, done other nasty things together as a couple and such, the only thing left to do is to fuck.

That’s right, you both just need to let out your feelings, when you’re alone. Like you did with Jimin before Yoongi joined, or rather, watched. You were spending sufficient time alone with each of your boyfriends, but as of late, you need to get down and dirty with Yoongi. As fast as possible, before things get any weirder.

“Thanks.” You say before getting out of the car.

“Hey, um, I know after yesterday things are different but can I please ask you to pretend like it didn’t happen? I was clearly not myself. I’d rather that we do things naturally and let everything happen when they’re supposed to. I apologize if you felt forced to do stuff in any way.”

You almost cry at how gentle he sounds. He talks to you like you’re a princess, literally the kindest man you’ve crossed. Your heart flutters just from hearing him speak, like your eyes have been opened for the first time.

“No, not at all!” You clutch your backpack strap, biting your lips in anxiousness. “I wanted to. I actually hope I can do it with both of you someday. Like actually..the three of us in one bed.” You trail off, realizing what it is that you truly want.

“You okay? You zoned out there for a second.” You nod, smacking yourself internally for spacing out with Yoongi.

“I’ll see you after school, bye.” You share a quick kiss before you run to your first period class.

For some reason, your friends seem busy. No one is eager to talk to you about their lives or even stop for a second to listen to you talk about yours. You understand it, though. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with. You’re sure all the other girls your age are worrying about bigger stuff than boy problems, like possibly being pregnant, or scared that they don’t have enough credits to graduate.

You stay glued to your phone most of the day, as Jimin sends you heart emojis and lengthy passages about how he loves you. He just had to message you during English class, during which your teacher caught you on your phone, and she picked up your phone and when she read your text, it brought her to tears, resulting in her asking you if she could read it out loud to the class.

You insisted it was from your boyfriend and how it was for your eyes only, but she said it demonstrated how simple sentences work well in writing when used correctly and that his use of grammar and vocabulary was that of a college graduate, or at least a professional writer.

She read it aloud, with emotion, and feeling. It made your heart swell up in joy, as you heard his voice through hers. The message behind his words.

“Oh, how you make my heart ache, and in the end it only longs for you. How could a person affect me so much? Come home and hold me, my love, I promise you won’t want to leave,” She finishes reading the long text and after you get your phone back, you bury it deep inside your backpack.

My teacher calls you to her desk after class, and she tells you to cherish your boy with your whole heart, as it’s evident enough that no couple would be crazy enough to send love poems to each other unless they were truly fond of the other. There was no way you wouldn’t treasure him; You already loved him. And Yoongi. You love them both.

༻• Later That Day •༺

“Tell me what’s happening in front of my eyes isn’t really happening right now.” You huff at your blue-haired prince.

“Oh no, you’ve got it right. He’s really doing it.” He drinks his sweet tea with more vigour, sucking the straw harshly.

“This is pathetic. What does he think he can accomplish by upsetting his partners?” Jimin shrugs at your rhetorical question. Honestly, if you had a whip right now, you wouldn’t mind using it on Yoongi.

He actually has the balls to flirt with a regular female customer, a girl you actually caught making goo-goo eyes at him and trying to get his number every time she orders something. He’s not even shrugging her off anymore, but instead encouraging it. Jimin slams his hands down on the table, as he wipes a spot near you, glaring daggers at his boyfriend.

“Okay, I think I really wanna punish him now.” You were joking before, but the flirting has gotten out of hand as of late. He’s been doing this for two weeks already.

“Good, as it should be. Training continues in your room at 6:00 sharp. Be there and be ready, there’s a lot we have to cover before you dip your toe in the dom puddle.” You raise an eyebrow at his terminology. You knew what a dom was, but didn’t think he was serious. There’s no way that you’d actually take control in the bedroom, right?

Images of Jimin naked and whining beneath you flash in your mind, as you imagine all the different ways you could make him a mess. You’ve heard what Yoongi does to him, but imagining what you could do-that could go anywhere.

“Why do we have to wait?” You find yourself growing bolder as you lean forward, innocently sucking the metal straw that Jimin provided to you earlier when you ordered the mango smoothie.

“What are you suggesting, kitten?” You laugh at his nickname, before narrowing your eyes at your incredibly sexy boyfriend.

“Bathroom.” You continue sucking the straw, innocently sipping your drink before getting up and walking to the restroom.

After 5 minutes of waiting, you hear the door open, and heavy footsteps. They were much too heavy to be a woman, for sure.

“Baby!” He hisses right outside of your stall, signaling you to grab him and pull him in.

“I checked. It’s empty. No one can disturb us anyways, not unless they see two pairs of feet underneath.”

“Oh, I have an easy solution to that,” He folds his arms across his chest. “Kneel,” You listen to him, happy to follow his orders like a mindless kitten. “Go ahead, suck.” He has his phone in one hand, recording you as you take him into your mouth.

“Remember who’s boss, baby? You said I’d learn how to be a dom.” He groans lightly as you suck his length, slightly squeezing his testes as well with your free hands.

“Alright. Show me what you’ve got.” His eyes are clouded with lust as he watches you swallow his precum, but you do eventually get you fill, instead opting to let his semen spill to the floor.

“Should I just prep you right here? Finger that beautiful asshole so that Yoongi can fuck you later?” Jimin groans at the thought, and you do too, imagining how his cock would bounce in your face as your older boyfriend fucked him carnally. “Ohhh, look at you taking my fingers. So, so, pretty Jiminie. Hear that? This is what good dick sounds like.” Your panties are drenched, you’re leaking through. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were on your period.

“F-fuck me good Y/N.” You smirk, pinching his scrotum, making him shriek in urgency.

“Sorry, bad boys don’t get to cum.” You continue rubbing his shaft, a sloshing sound resounding through the bathroom walls as you give him a moist handjob. He tries his best to stay quiet, with a few whimpers escaping his lips.

“Please, Y/N. I need to cum, please I can’t hold in!” He whines wantonly as you continue pumping his dick, letting his erection peak to the highest point before rubbing him out during his climax. He gets so loud that he has to cover his own mouth with his small hands.

You go on for several minutes after that, or what feels like an eternity, laughing maniacally as Jimin squirts and cums for you. You just did that! You made him feel so good he came.

After you let his cum spill to the floor, you stand up, tucking his dick back into his pants before licking your fingers clean of the savory juices Jimin left behind.

You both wash your hands in the sink and leave the bathroom in turns, so it won’t raise any suspicion.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Jimin gives you a quick peck on the cheek before running off to the counter to grab another order.

“So, I’m guessing you guys spent his entire break together?” Jin asks, wiping your table for the hundredth time again.

“Yes, Jin. We were just talking about the birds.” Jin glares at you, obviously not believing your lie.

“And the bees, I assume?” You clap your hands together, laughing as you sip your mango juice. “It’s no laughing matter for a girl your age. You’re already with two men who are closer to my age than your age. And I’m 27!” You roll your eyes, ignoring him as you get your daily lecture again.

“Jin, you know Jimin and Yoongi are only like 3 or 4 years older than me. And I’m already more mature than lots of girls my age. You can also save the bedroom talk, I know my limits and what I’m comfortable with. I know it’s not the most conventional agreement, but I feel safe with both of them. They treat me like a princess even though I don’t deserve it.” You tell him with a small smile on your face.

“Hm, you really love them, don’t you?” You nod, humming as Jin walks away. “While you’re here, why don’t you help out with these boxes? Just move them to the alleyway. They’re all rotten fruit.” You cringe at that, as Jin hands you a stack of two huge boxes.

“Alright. But if I get mugged I’ll sue you.” You get around to the alleyway, surprised to see that there’s no one there and you actually had a moment of peace without incident.

You weren’t expecting anything anyways, as you know this town is very safe and there’s not much criminal activity happening in this neck of the woods. You were too focused on everything going on in your mind, so in case there was an actual threat, you wouldn’t be too phased.

“Done, now when do I get paid?” You dust your hands, looking up at your boyfriends’ boss. Jin just gives you his signature smile and blows a kiss at you before turning to his office.

“Look, how about I just let you drink for free? For a month?” You nod, folding your arms as you notice the picture on Jin’s desk, a family photo of Jin with a woman.

“Sounds good, hey who’s this?” You ask, pointing at the frame.

“That was my wife. She passed away three years ago…” You suddenly feel like a jerk.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m gonna get going now, it was nice seeing you again, Jin.” You smile sadly at the man before leaving your boys to wrap up with their work. They’ll be taking a leave for a week anyways, so they’re just trying to make this week count.

You know that’s probably why Yoongi was being so friendly with most of the female customers. You hadn’t seen him flirt with any other men apart from Jimin, but he did talk to a lot of girls. Then again, the girls probably approached him themselves.

You try pushing the thoughts out of your head, as you know your ultimate goal is to have angry sex with Yoongi over the fact that he’d been flirting with other people in front of you and Jimin. You channel the anger through your body, as Jimin later presents himself to you that evening, with thoughts of only awakening the lustful dominant inside of you.

“Here are my prized positions, please take good care of me, kitten.” You shake your head, smirking at him as he gives you his box of toys to use on him.

“Want me to ride you, baby?” You ask him as he groans in pain, his bulge painfully tightening in his pants. You can see the area around his pants, the tiny wet spot around his tip.

“I’d love that, kitten,” You shed your clothes, before working on Jimin’s pants first. After the pants come off, you work on his shirt. Both articles of clothing go flying to the ground before the final layer, which is his boxers. The precum stringing from the head of his cock glisten as you gather a good portion of it onto your fingers before slathering it on your stomach. You lick the remaining juices from your fingers before placing both of your legs on either side of him. Jimin is excited. His dick seems to inflate a little as you sit down on him. “Look at you, being ruined by my cock. You aren’t gonna let it control you today, are you kitten?” You shake your head, panting slightly as you struggle to focus on what you were doing.

“I own this cock, got it? This cock is mine!” You finally start moving, making Jimin groan beneath you as he appreciates how much your boobs bounce in his face and how he can see everything as you move on top of him.

“Oh gosh, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp before quickly climbing off him and you resorted to using your mouth to finish the job.

“Um, why did you just stop when you were close?” Jimin asks. You gesture to his unprotected penis.

“You weren’t wearing a condom. I couldn’t let you cum in me and risk getting preggers. I watched Glee, I know all of the downsides.” Your boyfriend just huffs impatiently.

“I could’ve pulled out, but it seems that now I came once but you haven’t cum at all.”

“Jim, who’s in charge?” Your boyfriend is taken aback by the new name you gave him. He just sighs before turning his head to you and looking at you directly in the eyes.

“You are.”

“Great, glad we’re on the same page. Get on your stomach, babe. I wanna peg you.”

“What?!” Jimin’s eyes widen as you grab the lube from your desk drawer.

“Do you not want to do it tonight? I need to practice so Yoongi can-wait, are you telling me that you’re a top?” He blushes before running his hands through his pretty blue hair.

“We’re switches. Although, when we’re alone, hyung is more dominant in nature.” You gasp in awe as Jimin reveals this new information to you.

“That’s great, we’ll make him beg by the end of next week, I’m sure of it. But Jim, I do have a plan for how we go about it…” You quietly adjust the straps of your harness before slathering the dildo with lube. This is softer, so the texture feels like skin.

“Oh gosh, Y/N!” You hum as Jimin makes all kinds of cute noises, mostly from suffocation and feeling smothered. You take a break in between because Jimin declares it ‘too much,’ and after getting a drink of water you presume to prep him gently, so you don’t tear him apart.

Before you know it, just from the stimulation of your fingers on the base of his cock and the fingers in his hole, your man is coming undone, moaning, whining, cursing, begging-all of those things while you pump him with your right hand, as fast as possible. Seeing Jimin come on his stomach was the hottest thing you’ve seen in a long time. You really needed to see that.

“Kitten, wanna cum with me? You made me cum so many times already…” You nod, your face red from excitement. The lewd thoughts just make it worse.

“Jiminie, can we...69?” You ask shyly, but your boyfriend is more than happy to oblige.

“Sure, baby.”

༻• Night •༺

Yoongi gets home late only because Jin had some trouble with the cash register. He wasn’t feeling well as of late, but there was no explanation for his unexplained sadness. He had everything he needed in life, along with two amazing partners. So why was he feeling this way? He knows it’s normal for people to feel down sometimes.

It’s hard for people to be happy all the time, especially when there’s a lot of stress in the environment. Now Yoongi has to prepare to deal with the “break-up” since you and Jimin will share the honor of being in an arranged marriage. Well, it’s more like a trick love-marriage. If your father catches you in bed with the wrong man, there’s no telling what he could do from there.

Yoongi just needs you and Jimin to get married to save you both. Jimin gets to reconnect with his parents who cast their son out because he got a boyfriend, and you would be free from awkward marriage dinners with strangers. Oh, and your father would leave you alone because he’d consider you as “Jimin’s property.”

He knows the type of person he is. He’s dealt with the same type of parents many times over. His family wasn’t even willing to accept him even though he told them he wasn’t completely gay but didn’t agree to being labeled “straight” either.

Now look at you all, everyone is happy together and that’s the way Yoongi wants it to be. Even if he has to be in the background. For your happiness, he would do anything. For you and Jimin.

As he’s about to open the door, a text from your mother catches him off-guard. She was texting that she gets to come home earlier today, so she can spend time with you three and get to know your boyfriends better. Uh-oh, this is bad.

He shuts the door behind him before running upstairs, to look for you and Jimin. Yoongi bursts down the door with force only to find you and Jimin NOT watching iCarly together on Netflix.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” He shields his eyes, turning around so you could cover up a little bit. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but he didn’t want to be a pervert. Even though you’d be fine with him looking. He still wants to ask for consent.

You change quickly, Jimin still panting and recovering from his last orgasm. He almost passed out from how good you were with your tongue.

“You can look, you know?” You and Jimin day in sync. The two of you share a look that Yoongi knew was the type of look reserved for two special people. You’ve already bonded, without him. It’s a good thing, even if it kills Yoongi that he's trying to earn extra money so in case you and Jimin do get caught with the plan, you would have a safety net to catch you when you fall and help you up.

Yoongi didn’t inform you or Jimin of this, but recently, he’s been opting for extra hours just to save up money. He’s also been spending some of that money on new equipment to make his producing process a bit easier, but apart from that, he has a large amount of money in his bank account. At least, it’s big in his eyes. He never had much, but now he finally has a reason to do more with his life.

You and Jimin constantly inspire him to make songs all the time, and without realizing it, you’ve changed him for the better.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But that’s not why I’m here, your mom is coming home, and she wants to spend time with us, since we’re your boyfriends!” Yoongi panics and you find it endearing how the man you once thought to be cold and unkind to now be so comfortable around you that he speaks his mind.

“Thank goodness you walked in when you did, Jimin was about to pass out on top of me.”

“Wait, you bottom for her?” You look back at Jimin to see his reaction. He gawks at his blond boyfriend in shock.

“Yeah, I mean haven’t you seen how she gets when she’s dominant? It’s sexy as hell.” You can’t understand what they’re saying anymore because they are speaking in Korean.

“Oh, I see. Wait until the roles are reversed, I’m sure our kitten will be mewling for you to stop once she feels your lips.” Jimin glances over at you quickly before looking back at his boyfriend.

“Hyung, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve already done plenty alone.” Your prince-like boyfriend combs his hair to one side, making you giggle as you see Yoongi turn bright pink like a piglet.

“I can see that. Kitten, are you up for a date when we go up to the cabin?” You bite your lip, glancing nervously towards Jimin as he gets dressed with his back to you and looking at Yoongi as he waits patiently for your answer. You were planning to spend time with the two of them, but you know that maintaining the individual relationships with your partners are just as important as the group dynamic. You’ve also been naturally closer with Jimin, as he was your best friend first.

Yoongi deserves a break, and you know that he’s probably noticed that you and Jimin have been spending a lot more time together while he’s been working hard. The vacation is actually for Yoongi, but he doesn’t know that, yet.

“Sure. When do you want to go out?” You ask.

“Hmmm, what about tomorrow? I get off work around 4 tomorrow, so we’ll have a lot of time to spend after that.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You both share a small smile before Jimin interrupts the moment with applause.

“Great! While you guys do that, I’ll be out learning choreography. I need to keep up with my peers from the institute.”

“Wait, you went to a dance school?” Jimin gasps at the realization that he never told you about his dance classes during high school.

“Yep, I was at the top of my class,” Jimin quickly changes the subject. “Anyways, enough about me, you guys need to plan for your date!” He quickly runs out into the hallway, in his boxer shorts with the rest of his clothes in hand, as you uncover yourself and give Yoongi a quick peek before scrambling to find some clean clothes that don’t smell like sex.

“Boys, I assume you know what this meeting is about?” Your mom clasps her hands together on her lap as she basically murders your boyfriends with her eyes.

“I know it’s a weird arrangement, but we both really like your daughter.” Yoongi is the first to speak up, and you find it sweet that he can open up to your mother, since he wasn’t the most socially adept back when you first met him. You assume that’s because you changed him, you and Jimin made him crawl out of his shell and explore the world a bit more. This was mostly good but bad at the same time because he was much better at communicating, and instead of scowling at people or giving them a blank stare, he actually smiles a lot more and makes more eye contact.

Maybe that’s just the jealousy talking, but you genuinely feel that it’s better for Yoongi, in the long run.

“I’ve known you guys for six months now, and in judging you personally, I can tell that you both have excellent characters. You will make her happy, and hopefully someday you three can be more serious.”

“Hey mom, I needed to ask you something about that.” Your boyfriends glance at you anxiously as you ask your mom. “When is dad coming home?” You bite your bottom lip as you do when you get nervous.

“Hmmm, he said he would be gone for half a year. He’ll be back by October, why?” You scratch your head.

“Can’t a girl wonder when her daddy’ll come home?” You don’t even bother looking at your boyfriends as you can tell exactly what their expressions are.

Once your mother is done interrogating your partners, Jimin creeps down the hallway and sneaks into your room.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, as he kisses your collarbone.

“Asleep.” You stop him.

“Look, we left him out earlier so I feel kinda bad. I don’t think we should do any more stuff tonight. We can continue tomorrow.” Jimin’s a gentleman, so he wouldn’t push your boundaries. He just backs away from you and he flops down on your bed.

“You think I’m good...right?”

“What?” Jimin’s sudden words throw you off guard.

“I’m not bad at sex, am I?”

“Jimin, where did you get that idea? Of course you’re amazing in bed, I’m just not in the mood tonight. Besides, my mom’s home.” You sit down next to him, stroking his right arm.

“Thanks. Sometimes I feel like I need validation. My confidence isn’t all what I chalked it up to be.” You just let out a long sigh. You can relate to him, in what happened with Jungkook and Jasmine. Your friendship actually made you lose trust in those closest to you. You were partially afraid of opening up to Jimin in the beginning too, but after you cried it out with him, you felt even closer to him than the people you knew practically your entire life.

Jimin is just easy to get along with, and you know that’s partially the reason why you were able to open up to him so quickly. Considering, yes you were only about three months into your romantic relationship, you needed someone to latch onto. Jimin was still the best friend you ever had, and you learned quickly that this was what a healthy friendship was like.

Unlike Jungkook and Jasmine, Jimin would listen to you, and he’d give you advice about your problems. In turn, you listened to him, just as you had with your past friends. There was something different from the other interactions you had, because it was a take and give type situation.

You weren’t just taking, though. You were applying yourself, and improving who you were as a person. This is what a friendship should be like. Even though you’re dating, it feels comfortable and familiar. You’ve learned not to depend on people as much, only when you need to. Unlike anything you’ve seen in the past, the dynamics of Jimin and Yoongi’s relationship is so free, they don’t pester the other to tell them everything.

Secrets are important in a relationship; That’s another thing you’ve picked up. Obviously you aren’t going to lie, but you feel like you have a safety net.

“Sorry. It’s just hard to always live up to society’s expectations of me.” Everything clicks for you with Jimin’s words. You quickly stand up, blood rushing to your head as you do, making you fall back just as fast. Jimin catches you, luckily, and lowers you down onto the mattress.

“We’re not getting married.” You put your foot down, catching your boyfriend off guard.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You simply stare up at your boyfriend, eyes filled with hope.

#jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonmin x reader #yoongi x jimin x reader #Poly BTS #Poly #bts imagine #coffee shop #throuple #jimin x yoongi #cafeau #Smut

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valhallanrose · 4 years ago

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Dancing Queen

A reflection on past birthdays and a glimpse at the present.

Happy birthday to my firstborn.

2.3k. Cautionary CW for discussions of food.

Fic title: Dancing Queen by ABBA.

The first birthday that Zelda remembered actually wasn’t her own, but Tamryn’s. It was his twelfth, though only the third time he’d actually celebrated on February twenty-ninth and not on March first. She was four then, giggling madly as she smashed a piece of the cake into his face - a tradition in Nevivon and something their parents had encouraged - and licking buttercream frosting off her fingers until Galen lifted her up to the kitchen sink to actually wash her hands.

Tamryn got her back two months later, on her fifth birthday, though he was far more gentle than she had been about it. Maybe it was because she’d been completely zoned out chewing on one of the sugar flowers that had adorned her cake, but she distinctly remembered assessing the mouth feel of one of them before a hand on the back of her head tipped her face straight into the slice of cake Evalina had just set in front of her.

Birthdays were typically small affairs in the Olenev household. It was time to simply be together, take joy in another year spent living life to the fullest and with each other. The only exception Zelda could think of was her bat mitzvah, all those years ago, and Tamryn’s own bar mitzvah, though she certainly remembered her own better than his.

They always got to pick a special breakfast a few days before the actual birthday. Zelda chose the same thing every year without fail: chocolate-stuffed syrniki and strawberries. There was never another time of year that particular combination was eaten, only on her birthday, which made it feel all the more special to her no matter how old she got.

Some birthdays had been...less than happy. Her sixteenth, the first birthday alone, the wound of her father’s death still raw on her heart. Or her twenty-fifth, which she had entirely forgotten until the following week, elbows deep in work at the Lazaret. Not that she’d celebrated at all during the plague, it never felt like a worthwhile occasion.

She remembered on her twenty-sixth birthday, the first she acknowledged after the end of the plague, wishing quietly that there’d be no more sad birthdays. She wanted those happy times back - those happy times of just being five years old in Nevivon and feeling sugar flowers melt on her tongue and getting her face shoved into a birthday cake just when she thought it was safe.

And then Tamryn had found her later that year.

Twenty-six had been a new beginning for them both. Twenty-seven had been the first birthday of hers they celebrated together since she was fifteen - a little awkward at first, but they found their way, finding a cute little restaurant on the waterfront and Zelda nearly punching Tamryn over the set of diaries he’d found in an antique shop that had belong to an apothecary long before.

For her twenty-eighth, Tamryn had given her an experience - a theater company from Prakra had made a temporary stop in Vesuvia to host a performance of The Tempest for the Countess on their way to Venterre, borrowing the theater in the Heart District closest to the palace. The short period they were in town fell over her birthday, and Tamryn had not only gotten her tickets, but got them tickets for one of the private boxes rather than the general audience. It had been a delight, and an experience she treasured dearly.

She’d asked Tam once, a few weeks after that birthday, why he did so much for her (not that she was ungrateful) - and he’d simply smiled, kissing her forehead and telling her that he had ten years of birthdays he wanted to make up for. She’d assured him he didn’t need to do that, but he waved her off, pointing out that he was an adult and that if he wanted to do nice things for his family, he would.

The twenty-second of April came again, this time her twenty-ninth birthday, and Zelda stirred when the mid morning sunlight beamed across her face and warmed her skin. A heavy weight pressed against her back as she began to roll over, making her snort as she assessed the limited amount of space between her and the other side of the bed.

“Bed hog.”

Oberon lifted his head, some of her hair threaded between his antlers, and gave her an incredulous look that made her laugh.

“Yes, you, a bed hog. Brat. Come here, give me your head.” She shifted enough to sit up, carefully brushing her hair away from where it had tangled with the new growths forming, each only a few inches tall by then. “How are your nubbins doing?”

Do not call them my nubbins.

“Fine, oh mighty forest prince, how doth your crown fare -” Zelda laughed as Oberon shoved his face into her chest indignantly, the stag sighing dramatically before he laid his head in her lap. She carefully inspected the velvet, idly scratching behind his ears all the while as he patiently waited for her assessment. “They do look good, Obie. You had a beautiful eight point set last year, I’ll bet on the same or more this year.”

She’d kept his last shed, actually. They were currently mounted on the wall in her shop, those pretty eight points acting as hooks for the herbs and plants she was in the process of drying out.

Zelda smiled as she began to scratch around the base of one of his antlers, his hind leg thumping against the mattress and his head pushing into her hand as he snuffled contentedly. There were a few long beats of quiet before his voice filtered through her mind again and drew her eyes down to his, all big and brown and soulful.

Zelda?

“Yeah?”

Happy birthday.

She beamed at that, lifting his head in both hands and pressing kisses to his fuzzy cheek, even when he complained about ‘smelling her morning breath’ but made no move to get away.

“Thank you, Obie. What do you say to breakfast?” Zelda glanced out the window, smiling at the cloudless blue sky and the bright golden sun. “Tam spent the night last night. I’m thinking me, you, him, and Magnus out in the back garden after I whip something up.”

Oberon nodded slightly, shifting to drag himself out of her bed - quite literally, as he put his front hooves on the floor and shuffled forward until his hind legs hit the hardwood. Zelda shook her head at him and flipped back the covers, combing her fingers through her hair and shoving her feet in her slippers before she made her way down the hall to the kitchen.

She knew she’d slept in, but she was surprised to see Tamryn already awake, standing at the stove with Magnus perched on his shoulder and preening his bedhead.

“You, not waiting to mooch off my breakfast? Hell must have frozen over.” Zelda teased, and Tamryn rolled his eyes, tipping his head back and giving her a cheeky grin.

“I could say the same thing about you sleeping in.”

“It’s the weekend, Tamryn, I’m not a masochist.”

“Well, not just a weekend.” Tamryn shifted, lifting his left arm to gesture for Zelda to come closer. She gladly accepted the embrace, burying her face in the soft wool of his sweater as he gave her a tight squeeze. “Happy birthday, shithead.”

She swatted at him as he laughed, turning away from her to slip the spatula under the pancake when Magnus chirped and set it carefully on the serving plate to his right.

Zelda’s brows drew together as she let her eyes wander over the ingredients, then the pancakes themselves, the realization dawning the longer she looked over it all. “Tam...are you making -”

“Mama’s syrniki recipe, yeah. I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, you and I both know she would follow her heart tweaking things and I only have the recipe cards you helped me braille, but I realized I have now been here for three birthdays and not even attempted making it.” He waved the spatula idly in the air and blew a few strands of hair out of his face before he continued. “Hopefully I wasn’t too presumptuous, but you and I both have the same opinions about chocolate and I felt optimistic.”

Zelda laughed, shaking her head as she found the chocolate in question and broke a piece off for herself.

“No, not presumptuous at all.” She popped the piece into her mouth before she began to move about the kitchen, pulling together parts of Oberon’s own breakfast with the deer hot on her heels. “I’m looking forward to it. I don’t think I’ve ever made them myself, so this’ll be the first time I’ve had them in years. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, get the hell out of here with your fancy leaf water.”

“If tea is leaf water, then coffee is just bean water, stupid.”

“Maybe, but if I wanted to drink leaf water I’d just go drink from a puddle.”

Zelda flipped him off, and when Magnus squawked loudly, Tam returned the gesture, snickering to himself under his breath as he worked his way through the last few syrniki.

* * * * *

Eventually, when they made their way out to the small back garden and crammed the plates onto the wrought iron patio table, chatting as Magnus settled on the back of one of the empty chairs and Oberon found his favorite spot - easily noted by the way the grass was permanently flattened at the base of the crabapple tree in the corner of the garden. They both were animated in conversation, Zelda only pausing to take the first bite of her syrniki and losing her train of thought.

They weren’t Evalina’s, but they were still delicious, the chocolate warm on her tongue and the strawberries perfectly between sweet and tangy - it was enough to make her throat feel a little tight after she swallowed.

“Good?” Tamryn asked after a moment, and Zelda laughed, nodding as she spoke.

“They are. They’re not mom’s, but they don’t need to be. They’re perfect.” She reached out and laid a hand on his wrist, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you, Tam. Really.”

“You’re welcome.” Tam shoved strawberry in his mouth before he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants with his other hand, turning Zelda’s palm over and smacking a slim, flat box into her hand. “Your gift, by the way, before I set it down and forget where I put it. I already did once, I made the bed and lost it in the sheets. Damn near shit myself.”

Zelda snickered softly, gently tugging away the crisp white ribbon and carefully cracking open the box, the lid opening on a hinge that revealed the jewelry inside.

The necklace was simple - only a single pendant, the six-pointed star a little bigger than the pad of her thumb and strung on a delicate golden chain. Her breath caught as she lifted the star on one of her fingers, watching the morning light gleam on its polished surface. If her throat had felt thick before, she felt like she was trying to swallow a rock now, eyes burning with the tears that welled up.

“You said you lost yours years ago.” Tamryn said gently. “I know you loved it, and you never took it off when we were kids…”

“You’re going to make me cry on my birthday.” Zelda sniffed, and Tamryn laughed, reaching out to pat her arm.

“Don’t, because then you’ll make me cry, and then we’ll both look ugly when we go out later.” He smiled when Zelda snorted at that, swiping a rogue tear away before it could slip down her cheek. “Do you want help putting it on?”

“I’m sure it’ll look ridiculous with my pajamas, but that’s not going to stop me. Yes, please.”

The clasp would come together neatly at the base of Zelda’s neck - simple, but secure - and the pendant fell just below her collarbone, making her smile and touch her fingertips to it once she released her hair from where she’d moved it out of Tamryn’s way. He draped his arms lazily around her shoulders, chin propped on her head, rather than returning to his own seat across from her at the table.

“If the chain is too short, I can take it back to the jeweler and ask them to add some length to it.”

“No, Tam, it’s lovely. Thank you so much.” She laid her hands over his and gave them a squeeze, smiling as he squeezed them back before he straightened up.

“I’m glad you like it.” Quickly, he snatched a strawberry off her plate, snickering to himself as he made his way back around to his seat despite her protests at the theft of fruit. “Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”

“Ass.” Zelda reached out and stole one of the blackberries left on his own plate, munching happily on it and smacking his hand away when he tried to steal another strawberry off her plate. “Go away, you have your own fruit.”

“You won’t even share with your beloved older brother?”

“Just because I’ve been stuck with you since birth doesn’t mean I like you, you know.”

“Joke’s on you, bitch, that goes both ways.”

With a laugh, Zelda finally dug back into her syrniki, banter and conversation mixing and flowing between them easily as they talked about anything and everything that came to mind. The sun continued to move overhead, warming their faces long after their plates were cleared and their cups were empty.

She didn’t need to know how the rest of the day was going to go - in her book, it was already a pretty damn great birthday.

#zelda hollyheart #tamryn olenev #happy birthday zelda

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flowercrown-bard · 4 years ago

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Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 belongs to this

content warning: brief mention of memory loss due to old age

For the past years, Geralt and Jaskier had been living with a steady routine. There was safety in that. The knowledge that as long as all steps were completed, everything would be alright.

Going to Kaer Morhen had broken that routine.

Nothing about going to the keep with its crumbled walls and the breeze whistling through the rooms promised safety. And yet, there was no doubt that being in Kaer Morhen had been good for Jaskier. Maybe it had been the company of the other witchers. Or maybe it had just done him some good to get away for a while.

Whatever it was, Geralt’s chest was threatening to burst with the need to give more of it to Jaskier.

Still, one look at Jaskier, as he sat in his rocking chair, eyes closed and humming to himself made it quite clear that there would be no travelling back to the keep anytime soon. What use would it be anyway, now that the others were back on the Path?

It wasn’t as if Jaskier was miserable here at the coast anyway. Quite the opposite, in fact. When Yennefer’s portal had brought them back, a happy sound had left Jaskier at the sight of their cottage. He had taken to replanting their garden and kicking up the sand on the shore with all the joy of a child splashing water after jumping into a puddle. When they had entered their cottage and the familiar scent that Geralt had come to associate with calm and safety had welcomed them, Jaskier had let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like “Home”.

It would be cruel to take that from Jaskier again so soon, only because Geralt was desperate to keep what they had had in Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier was happy being back. But still, something had changed within him, ever since returning. Something had reawakened in him.

His fingers were restlessly twitching and sometimes it looked like there was something brimming inside of Jaskier just under the surface, longing to break free.

They still spent their evenings sitting in front of the cottage, as Jaskier had dreamed off, looking onto the sea. It was serene and there was a beauty in this routine too, in the familiar sight of the coast. But every once in a while, Geralt would glimpse at Jaskier and see something other in his eyes. A yearning he couldn’t quite place.

Geralt couldn’t name what it was he saw coming back to Jaskier, until he felt it himself.

It wasn’t often that he left Jaskier’s side for anything other than running errands, but every once in a while, the people of Oakwood would ask him for protection. This time, it was – as it so often was – the fisherman who asked Geralt to come with him onto the sea to keep the sea serpent that was rumoured to come to this part of the sea with the thawing snows at bay.

It was utter nonsense, of course. A tale for suspicious folk, just like there were no real devils. But just like Geralt had done when asked to kill a devil, he accepted the contract, if it even could be called such.

The trip was completely uneventful. The biggest threat were the waves tossing the boat. They were not nearly strong or high enough to be of any true danger, but the tiny spark of adrenaline that came with holding onto the rail while the wind whipped his hair into his face reawakened an ache in Geralt that had lain dormant for years.

The wind tasted like a promise for more. Geralt was sure if Jaskier would have been here, he would have found better words for it. With no doubt, Jaskier would have understood what it was Geralt was feeling, what he was yearning for.

And that was it, wasn’t it? If Geralt had looked into a mirror now, would he have found the same look in his eyes that Jaskier had always had when they reunited after the winter, about to head out into the unknown once more? Or would it be the same look Jaskier got now, when he stared at the sea, yearning to go … anywhere?

Coming home, Geralt was greeted with the familiar words; part of the routine.

“Geralt, you’re back!”

He smiled and returned Jaskier’s embrace. There it was again in the way Jaskier looked at him expectantly. That fidgeting. That almost bursting at the seams. The need to go out there that had made a young bard follow a brooding witcher to the edge of the world where the promise of danger and heartbreak was awaiting.

“Have you had another adventure out there?” Jaskier’s words started an itch, a small flame in Geralt’s chest, begging to be smothered or set free like a wildfire. “You really should take me with you sometime. It’s been so long since we’ve been on an adventure together.”

“Let’s do it.” The words were out, before Geralt had time to think about it, the flame becoming a wildfire.

Preparing for going out into the world took far more time than it had in the past. Where before, they would just throw their belongings – only the necessities for Geralt, and an improbable amount of useless trinkets and doublets on Jaskier’s part – into bags, shoulder them or fastening them to Roach, Geralt now had to rent a cart for Jaskier to sit in while they travelled.

Geralt’s face softened when he fetched Roach from the farmer he had given her to, letting her retire with him, but unable to keep a horse when he had Jaskier to take care of. The mare nibbled at his shirt as a greeting and butted her head against his chest.

When Geralt harnessed Roach onto the cart, she even endured Jaskier patting her neck and pressing a kiss against her nostrils.

Travelling like this was nothing like it had been when Jaskier had been in his prime, but it was travelling nonetheless.

While guiding Roach, Geralt still got to listen to the familiar sound of Jaskier composing little ditties about anything and everything that came to mind. He still got to hear the joy in Jaskier’s voice when he spotted a hare in the bushes they passed or a particularly pretty flower.

Geralt couldn’t give Jaskier the world like he used to, like he wanted to. The world was too big, too far away and too dangerous. But he could give him the feeling of the wind passing them by, whispering of all the things it had seen on its way across the world.

Geralt had no use for such imaginary whispers. He could smell the scent of animals, of the woods or nearby towns. But from the blissful smile on Jaskier’s face and the way he kept his eyes wide open so as not to miss a single sight, Geralt was certain that Jaskier understood and that the wind’s secrets were enough for him.

When Geralt had thought about how being with his brothers had made Jaskier shine like the sun, he hadn’t thought he would get to become witness to them meeting again so soon.

Soon, in this case, being merely a few months after they had parted when the first flowers had stubbornly fought their way through the snow.

Throughout spring and well into summer, all of the wolf witchers and Coën made sure to visit. Geralt didn’t know if it was coincidence that never more than one of them showed up at a time or if they had somehow agreed upon spreading their visits over the summer, so that Jaskier wouldn’t have to go through longer periods of time without seeing one of them.

Either way, it warmed Geralt’s heart and eased his tension whenever a heavy knock would announce the arrival of one of them.

The days when they were there were filled with laughter and stories. No one mentioned the dark thing lurking underneath the joy of seeing each other again, but Geralt could sense its presence still.

Spending the winter with Jaskier, bearing witness to what would become of him, has undoubtedly made the others aware that maybe Jaskier didn’t have as much time left as they all had hoped, thinking their joyful bard with the always boyish grin near immortal.

Geralt felt Eskel look at him out of the corner of his eye, silently repeating the question Geralt had not dared answer when they had parted before.

He watched as Lambert came by – purely by chance, of course, as he kept insisting – more often than any other, almost hovering over Jaskier, as though there was something Lambert could protect him from. If only there was.

Geralt flinched when Coën chuckled after Jaskier had noted with a twitching eyebrow how this year witchers seemed to sprout out of nowhere around their little village, like daisies.

“Who knows,” Coën said with a grin. “Maybe this place will become the new sanctuary for the witchers during summer? We can’t have you miss us until we see each other again next winter.”

Coën caught himself, eyes widened slightly and darting over to Geralt who stood frozen to the spot. They didn’t say it, but they were both aware of what hung between them: the fear of not knowing whether Jaskier would ever see the keep again.

Despite all, the heaviness that came with each visit, following the witchers through the doorstep like snow that clung to one’s clothes until it melted in the warmth of a home, was melted away by Jaskier’s warm joy each time anew.

Jaskier proudly showed Eskel their garden, followed by Eskel half-grinning while reminding Jaskier that he had thought the flowers would look good in the witchers’ hair.

“I said that?” Jaskier asked with sparkling eyes already roaming about the flowers, trying to decide which flowers would go best with Eskel’s outfit. “Oh, of course I did. I am a genius! You are a dear for reminding me, Eskel.”

While Geralt watched in fond amusement as Eskel patiently let Jaskier weave flowers into his hair, Eskel mouthed “Tell me how Lambert reacts when Jaskier does this to him” with a wink.

Geralt returned his grin, but when Lambert came by a month later and accepted Jaskier’s flowers with a frown that fooled no one, he thought that maybe he would keep this to himself after all. Especially, when Lambert, before leaving gruffly asked Jaskier how to press flowers in order to keep them even after they were no longer alive.

This year had been different in so many ways, and yet, routine still came back to them, like a friend waiting with open arms, in the form of tradition.

They left the sounds of the summer solstice celebration behind them, letting the people dance to merry tunes and drink until they couldn’t walk straight only to dance some more. If Jaskier had been any younger, he would have loved being a part of it, preferably being right in the centre of the celebration while Geralt would stand to the side and watch him twirl to the music.

But Jaskier wasn’t young and for now, he seemed content with the cracking of the wood as their own private bonfire blazed up into the night sky and the sound of the sea as the only music, having only Geralt’s attention to bask in.

Geralt’s eyes lingered on Jaskier’s face as they sat together, just the two of them, soaking in how Jaskier’s skin looked, as the flames threw a dancing glow across it, while Jaskier watched the reflection of the fire on the gentle waves.

“The days will be shorter from now on,” Geralt said, just to fill the silence.

Jaskier didn’t tear his eyes away from the sea, but his hand found Geralt’s nonetheless. “More time to watch the stars.”

Geralt hummed in agreement, a tiny smile dancing across his lips.

Silence fell over them again. Straining his ears, Geralt could almost imagine hearing the faint notes of a distant song and laughter.

“Sing for me?” He asked quietly, afraid that his voice would disturb the moment.

Jaskier didn’t reply, but moments later, a song filled the air, Jaskier’s broken voice harmonizing with the creaking of the fire and the soothing rush of the sea.

When the last notes rang out across the shore, Jaskier sighed, but Geralt could hear the smile in the sound.

“What was that song?” Geralt asked, though he had heard Jaskier sing it before, every summer solstice they spend together. A beautiful routine.

“It’s a traditional song,” Jaskier said, his eyes not leaving the dancing flames, but his smile still meant for Geralt. “We used to sing it in Oxenfurt. They say, the memory of it would be a light for one’s beloveds, when the days grew darker.”

“What else?” Geralt asked, his breath hitching when Jaskier remembered to give the answer he already knew.

“We would also tell each other what we were thankful for. The memory of it being a light for ourselves.”

A thumb brushed over Geralt’s knuckles.

Geralt took a deep breath, ready to lay his heart bare for Jaskier, to tell him how much he meant to him, how much it meant that he got to see him happy and adorned with wrinkles and that he got to be there while Jaskier grew old.

But as so often when it came to words, Jaskier was faster than him.

“I am grateful for this.” He squeezed Geralt’s hand, lifted it up to press a sweet kiss against its palm. “For you. For everything you do for me. That even when I don’t know where I am, I always know that you are there with me. Thank you for making sure I am never truly lost.”

The words Geralt had meant to say got stuck in his throat. Suddenly voicing them seemed like an impossible task.

“Jaskier…”

“I know.”

Geralt was no poet. He had never known how to express what he truly meant with words. He just hoped that Jaskier knew he had found the words for the two of them.

Jaskier’s smile was warmer than the bonfire, the emotion in his eyes deeper than the sea. Geralt repressed a shudder, gathering Jaskier close in his arms, holding him as tightly as he could, afraid to ever let go.

Jaskier rested his head on his shoulder, there to stay for as long as Geralt would have him.

“Thank you,” Geralt whispered into his hair, praying it was enough. “Thank you.”

“Geralt?” Geralt nodded when Jaskier’s shaky voice didn’t go on. “I am so thankful that I got to love you. I am so damn grateful that I got to know how this feels.” Something soft unfurled in Geralt’s chest and he tightened his arms around Jaskier, feeling the shuddering heartbeat beneath his hands, feeling a barely supressed sob ghost across his cheek. “Please, Geralt. Please, don’t ever let me forget I love you.”

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yukimoji · 5 years ago

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My World: Part 1 ( Tanjiro Kamado x Reader )

(a/n: hello! “my world” is a mini two part series! this was inspired after listening to some of my favorite opm songs on repeat lol. part 2 will be coming soon! hope you all enjoy!)

Part 1 I 2 I 3

Total words: 3937 words

Genre: Fluff

No manga spoilers

!!Slight mentions of Blood and Death!!

You've never really considered the possibility of true love coming to you all your life.

Growing up in a demon-infested world, life seemed to be fond of throwing you into hardships and struggle. Sure, some may argue that what breaks us makes us even stronger. However, every time you came face to face with a demon, all the horrors of the world would slap you in the face.

Life was rough, to be frank. Losing your family, the agony of training to death, and the endless amount of missions that never seemed to end. All this has taken a huge toll on you, as you become even more frustrated the longer you fight.

Even in the midst of those moments of uncertainty, you've seen rays of sunlight peeking through the dark and gloomy clouds. The way you watched children play around every time you visit a new location, the way laughter and joy was abundant despite the ever-growing threat, or even the way some people would cling to you to sing praises of gratitude after being rescued from a demon would always warm your heart.

These little bits of happiness can bring just the smallest of smiles to your face, and you were secretly hoping that maybe soon, you will also be happy and enjoy the warmth of love that would've had surrounded you without a care in the world.

But you could only hope, only dream. You can't stop fighting for even just a second.

Not when your life is still in the hands of danger. Not when there's a likelihood of a horrible and painful death looming over you.

You're not going to stop until you have avenged your family and the numerous deaths that Muzan Kibutsuji has inflicted upon humanity.

You've never really considered the possibility of true love coming to you all your life, but that seemed to have changed when you finally met him.

Tanjiro Kamado is a peculiar boy.

The first time you met him, you were sent on a mission at Mt. Natagumo with several other slayers. You were in a rough shape, after seeing how your comrades were turned against each other and were ruthlessly murdered in front of your very eyes. You couldn't move after being badly injured from a rouge katana stabbing you somewhere in your body. Pain and suffering was the only thing you could feel in that moment, and it seemed like your life had flashed before your eyes.

Minutes later, in front of you, a glimpse of a green and black checkered haori appeared. A boy wearing hanafuda-like earrings that seemed to twinkle and reflect the rays of moonlight with every slightest movement. He had Burgundy locks, which seemed to be swaying from the cool breeze, a red scar adorning his forehead, and a dashing pair of crimson eyes that gazed at you with such concern.

The powerful emotion directed towards you seemed to have left you breathless. The next thing you know, you've been taken away to a safe location where no one could hurt you.

"Stay here, okay? Don't move too much or you'll get even more hurt." His voice trailed off, holding you so delicately, as though you were about to fall apart at any moment. He looked worried, his nose wrinkled, and his lips was in a hard line when he saw how much you were in a horrible state. Then, looking at you, he smiled softly.

"I'm going to go now and find help, okay?" You could only nod and stare helplessly as he stood up and ran, presumably trying to find help.

And then, everything went dark.

You were in the Butterfly Estate's Ward the next time you saw him. Miraculously, as you were lying motionlessly in your safe position, the Kakushi came and got you all patched up. You were then taken to the Butterfly Estate to heal and rest.

But it seemed that recovery itself was a challenge.

You had a hard time sleeping, because a certain blonde-haired boy, whom you later learned to be named Zenitsu, kept screaming and whining to the poor girls who had given his medicine. Apparently, he was almost turned into a spider and the medicine was supposed to help him go back to his regular form.

"I GOTTA TAKE THIS FIVE TIMES? A DAY?! AND I HAVE TO KEEP TAKING THIS MEDICINE FOR THREE MONTHS??! IF I TAKE THIS, I CAN'T EAT ANYTHING YOU KNOW! I MEAN, IT'S REALLY BITTER! IT'S SUCH AN ORDEAL!!"

You could just stare in disappointment at the ceiling. Zenitsu's eyes exploded up in tears as he proceeded to have a tantrum, leaving the poor butterfly girl sweating in front of him, not knowing what to do. If you weren't hurt and just mainly having a bad time, you'd have already smacked the guy for his childish behavior.

Laying after an empty bed besides you, the boy with the boar-head, Inosuke, did not seem fazed at all. But then, you also discovered that the poor soul had his throat crushed by a demon. You could only assume that he was also beyond tired to even deal with Zenitsu's antics.

"SO, YOU MEAN MY ARMS AND LEGS WILL HEAL JUST BY TAKING MEDICINE? FOR REAL?! LISTEN, ARE THEY REALLY GONNA HEAL? TELL ME HOW THEY'RE GONNA BE HEALED!"

"Please stop shouting, will you?" The butterfly girl spoke out, attempting to calm the aggressive boy down.

After what seemed like an eternity of wails, Aoi and a pair of Kakushi came into the ward, one of them carrying a very familiar boy behind his back.

Your eyes widened when you saw the boy who rescued you calling out to Zenitsu. You didn't even hear Aoi scolding Zenitsu, who was whimpering and trembling in his bed sheets. Aoi left the ward annoyed with a huff, and you just stared at the kind boy as he was put down on the floor and went on to have a conversation with Zenitsu.

Judging from their discussion, Zenitsu and the other boy appeared to be friends. Zenitsu started to ramble about how mean Aoi was, and the Burgundy hairy boy realized how small his friend had become. You could just look away when the snot started to spill out of the rowdy blonde's nose.

However, as soon as you turned away, Crimson eyes found your exhausted body lying a few beds away, and his eyes gleamed as he remembered you as the slayer he had rescued the night before. He sighed in relief, because you were still alive even after all those injuries.

He observed your form, and he picked up the scent of exhaustion coming from you. Who wouldn't be? He wondered. He was just glad that he managed to save you in time, after seeing how countless slayers were murdering each other, he's just happy that he managed to save one more life.

But apart from fatigue, he couldn't help but pick up the scent of resentment and sadness surrounding you. He came to understand that your friends and comrades were all gone, not to mention that you may have lost all of your family, too. If there's someone who can understand you, it's him, because he's also lost his family and his sister became a demon.

After cleaning up, it was his mission to befriend you at all costs. He went into the ward and took the bed next to you and Inosuke. Per usual, Zenitsu was already bawling, and Inosuke continued to be in a sour mood.

You, on the other hand, could only look at the ceiling with a dark shadow cast on your face that the hanafuda-clad slayer could only assume to have been irritation caused by his blonde partner. As he claimed his bed, he turned and grinned softly towards you.

"Hello!" He greeted enthusiastically.

You get startled and pulled out of your thoughts of murder, as you tilt your head only to be greeted by the bright expression of the boy next to you.

Jesus, this boy could rival the sun with the warm and inviting aura he had.

"I'm glad you're all right! My name is Tanjiro Kamado, what's yours?" he introduced himself happily, leaving you speechless as to how friendly and cheerful this boy was.

"...[ Y / N ]. [ Y / N ] [ L / N ]." You manage to blurt out. Tanjiro's eyes sparkled, and his smile grew even more.

"EHHHH??! SO THE PRETTY GIRL CAN TALK! AND HERE I THOUGHT I'M NEVER GOING TO HEAR HER WONDERFUL VOICE!" Zenitsu cries out in excitement, laughing and waving about to himself as a vein started to pop out from your neck.

"SHUT UP, MONITSU! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP HERE!" Inosuke yelled out, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Zenitsu's face, effectively shutting him up.

Tanjiro could only chuckle nervously, as Inosuke grumbled in irritation and Zenitsu muttering out little whines after Inosuke's outburst.

"We're sorry about that, they're always like that." Tanjiro explained, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Anyway, what a pretty name! It's nice to meet you, [ Y / N ]- san! I hope we can friends!" He exclaimed happily.

You flush at his words and looked down in embarrassment, but then, you paled when realization hit you like a brick.

You never thanked him for saving you.

You whip your head towards the boy, your brows knitted together in determination.

"I never thanked you for saving me, Kamado-san! I am deeply grateful for your generosity! I owe you my life!" you proclaimed and bowed your head, leaving Tanjiro raising his hands in reassurance.

"Oh no, it's fine! Really!" He sweats, "And you can call me Tanjiro, you know!"

After that encounter, you seemed to have grown closer to the trio. During your time in the ward, you spent much of your time talking and joking around. After a while, Inosuke became arrogant and wild, which you discovered was his "natural" self. Often his attempts to pick fights bugs you to no end, and it doesn't stop there as Zenitsu has been even more irritating ever since you first spoke to the Burgundy-haired boy.

"[ Mispronounced Name ]!! I DARE YOU TO FIGHT ME RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

"[ Y / N ]- chan~! You look pretty today!"

"COME ON AND LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN TRULY BEAT THE GREAT INOSUKE, [ Mispronounced Name ]!"

"[ Y / N ]-chan, Inosuke is being mean to me again, can you please comfort me?"

"Why are you looking at my face like that, [Mispronounced Name]?!"

"You would marry me, right [ Y / N ]-chan?!"

You pass. No thanks.

As days go by, you and Tanjiro would grow even closer, as your friendship with him continued to grow. He was a very open friend. He's also sweet, caring, charming, not to mention he worries about others before he could even think about himself!

"Inosuke, do you want to eat more? Here! Have some of my Tempura!"

"Zenitsu, please, stop crying! You're getting the poor girls into unnecessary trouble!"

"Oh, you wanted to me to accompany you to Shinobu-san, [ Y / N ]? Sure! I'll be with you all the way!"

God, does this boy do bring a big smile on you face.

He would also tell stories of adventures, describing each event with such vivid detail. You could only listen in awe as he proceeded to tell you how hard he trained in order to join the Demon Slayer Corps.

You gazed in silence as you observed the Tanjiro's calloused hands. He must have endured and suffered so much, maybe even more so than you did. The boy just remained there, a tiny smile on his face as he proceeded to show his hands for you.

You gulp, and averted your gaze from his hands to make eye contact with him.

"It must have been really hard, huh?" You whispered, the corners of your mouth pulled down as you stared at the boy, an unreadable emotion present in your eyes.

Tanjiro only chuckled as he pulled his hands back.

"Yeah, it was really tough. But come to think of it, my hands are proof of all the hard work I've put into being a Demon Slayer. Sure, sometimes I felt like dying and even giving up, but the fact that I've reached where I am now just gives me the confidence to go even further to help those in need. " He explained.

He lifts his hand and glances at it. His eyes were filled with determination as he recalled why he had become a Demon Slayer in the first place. Confidence overtook his expression when he broke his eyes from his palm and smiled at you.

"My hands are a reminder that I will never stop fighting for the safety of humans. I will always protect them, so that they can never witness the kind of horrors that we as demon slayers have to go through."

Your praised his sense of selflessness. In this life full of hardships, it was rare to find somebody as genuine and kind like Tanjiro. It was a trait that you admired wholeheartedly. With him, it seemed like your whole world would light up because of the sheer amount of positivity he would radiate.

It seemed, for a moment, that your dark and cruel world had taken a turn. In the blink of an eye, you've been welcomed with smiles and snippets of joy every time you interact with the boys. Your laughter became more frequent, not a dull hour would pass by, as you would find yourself becoming more fond of the crimson-eyed slayer.

You'd get to learn more about Tanjiro and his history later on. The boy's face would always light up by the mention of his family, and he would still be fond telling stories of his memories of the time they were still alive. The guy's got five siblings! 5!

Now, you truly understood how much patience the boy had with his two companions. Hearing him talking about his family gave you a sad sense of longing, and soon enough, you also opened up to him about how you, too, had a family, and that they were also killed by demons.

You told him stories, memories that just seemed like scattered visions located on a distant shore. You'd feel the sides of your mouth pulling up, your solemn [E / C] eyes showing a nostalgic light in them. Tanjiro would laugh every time you mentioned how much of a rucus your siblings were, would smile at you with delight as you mentioned your everyday life, and would nod in agreement as you recalled of your love-filled memories that happened a long time ago.

It was nice to know, though, that you had someone who could relate to your loss of family.

Speaking of family, you also had the opportunity to meet Nezuko, the little demon sister of Tanjiro. You have to confess that the thought of a demon battling alongside a demon slayer made you laugh at first. There was a reason why you became a demon slayer, and that is to slay any demon you meet in order to protect human beings.

You've been in conflict with the situation for the first few days of getting to know Nezuko. Your instincts were screaming at you to get a sword and just kill her then and there, but you also realized she wasn't like any other demons. If Oyakata-sama seemed to approve of her presence, then maybe you might come to accept her as well.

Tanjiro has taken note of your behavior towards Nezuko, but he can't blame you. Your family was killed by demons, so you had every right to be suspicious of Nezuko. He was grateful, however, that you took restraint and tried to accommodate her, despite his keen sense of smell telling him that you're more than ready to put an end to her demon life.

It seemed like Nezuko also wanted to be your friend. During the nights where you can't sleep, you would always go to the rooftop and gaze at the starry sight above. Not long after you arrive, the demon girl would find you and she would sit beside you, accompanying you the whole time.

The first few times, you were tense towards her. As much as you respect Tanjiro and Oyakata-sama's wishes, her status as a demon still bothered you to no end. Nevertheless, you would just let her accompany her because you knew that she had no malicious intent towards you. She seemed to understand your conflicted feelings towards her, as she would just sit and stare at the sky the entire time the two of you would sit at the roof, never once trying to force you to interact with her.

However, one interaction made you view Nezuko in a whole different light.

You wake up in the middle of the night, whimpering, soaked in cold sweat. You've had another nightmare, a vivid flashback of your mangled family dead in your old home. You sighed softly, and you looked around the ward to see the trio still sleeping soundly. A few minutes pass, and you realized you couldn't fall asleep again right away.

You got out of bed stealthily, and you went to your sanctuary, where you would eventually meet the demon girl again for the hundredth time.

You sat down on the edge dejectedly when you arrived. You've had this same kind of nightmare too many times, but the sight of your family lying helplessly dead in their blood pool always gets to you. Your lower lip quivers, brows buried together as you try to fight back the tears threatening to spill out. You cover your face as you try to calm yourself down, but a hand pats your back to console you.

You're shaking when you turn your head and come face to face with Nezuko. Sadness clouded her eyes, little "mmhm"s coming out of her bamboo muzzle, as if she was trying to say it was all right;

"You're going to be all right."

You looked at her, and wondered, how could a demon look so human? Her hand on your back proceeded to caress you in a circular motion, her eyes held so much compassion and kindness that you almost forgot she was a demon.

But that doesn't matter anymore.

You broke out crying, warm, thick tears falling from your eyes. You hiccuped and sniffled, already racked up with sobs. Nezuko didn't waste any time and embraced you, and you embraced back almost instantly. Your cries echoed in the night sky, and you're weeping so hard that your tears are staining Nezuko's kimono. But the girl never stopped, and she just remained there and comforted you the whole time.

Once you finally calmed down, you sat there for a little longer, gazing up at the night sky. Nezuko was still sitting beside you, just like what she did when she spent time with you on the roof. You pulled your eyes away from the stars, and you gazed at Nezuko. She stared at the tranquility of the stars above and was happy with it. You're sighing softly, now feeling foolish to have ever doubt the girl.

"Nezuko-chan?"

The demon averts her gaze from the sky, and looks at you, her head tilting to the side slightly. Her rose-colored eyes flickering with concern. You gulp, and shamely looked down.

"I'm sorry. For ever doubting you. I guess you really are something special, huh?" You apologized, a flush creeping up to your face as you looked down in embarrassment.

"Mmhm!" Nezuko just hummed, when you looked up to see that she was giving you a happy expression. She put her hand on top of your head and began to rub it in a reassuring manner. You could only just chuckle fondly at her actions.

When she pulled her hand back, it was your turn to pat on her head. Her eyes widened momentarily, before she let out a joyful noise, lifting both of her arms to victory. You chuckled at her adorable shenanigans as you continued to bond with the affectionate demon.

Little do you know, a pair of crimson red eyes gazed at both of you, watching you interact with Nezuko. Tanjiro felt a sense of satisfaction, seeing how much you seem to care for Nezuko now. But he couldn't help but feel a funny sensation in his chest. Seeing all of you happy and treating Nezuko like your own sister made him feel something.

He could only look in admiration as you laughed and played with Nezuko, his sister always happily reciprocating any little pleasant interaction you would have granted her. He smiled, seeing how happy you were and how you seemed to glow under the moonlight.

You looked absolutely beautiful.

Come to think about it, he grew rather fond of you these past few weeks. The way you would light up at a joke, the way you would scrunch up your face with irritation, and even the way where you would listen to him with such concentration when he's reminiscing about his family seemed to make him feel funny and warm all over. Your little actions and quirks had Tanjiro hooked, and with every little adorable action you do, it would make the burgundy-haired boy grow even fonder for you.

It also didn't help that when he found you at Mt. Natagumo, his initial thought was, well, that you looked very pretty. Although, he suppressed this thoughts towards you because, well, you were such in a rough state and he was beyond worried. It was not the time to be a Zenitsu when you were hurting so much!

Wait, pretty? Fondness? Affection???

Tanjiro looked away from the wonderful sight, and proceeded to run back to the ward. His face reddened and he put a hand on his chest. His heart was beating like crazy! He couldn't believe what he was feeling towards the [ H / C ]-haired girl!

As he arrived, he instantly covered his face with his blanket, trying to make sense of the warm, fuzzy feeling he would get every time he thought of you.

He couldn't help but think of your wonderful smile. God, how much he had grown to love your smile! And the way your eyes would flutter, the way you giggle at even the most ridiculous joke, and how you would just- ugh!

He could only cover his face with his hands in embarrassment as he proceeded to have sweet yet confusing thoughts about you. He felt he was going mad, and he's trying to make sense of his emotions towards you.

He realizes something in the midst of his breakdown. He recalls how the couples at Asakusa would intertwine with each other, how Kazumi cried out for his deceased fiance, and the memory of how his mother and father would look at each other with such devotion and tenderness while overlooking him and his siblings. The way all the couples portrayed themselves in his life reminded him of how he would think and feel about you.

He widened his eyes as a quick gasp escaped his lips. His face flushed more and more out from the revelation as he desperately tried to calm himself down from the intense surge of emotions overwhelming him.

And in that moment, it was clear.

That he, Tanjiro Kamado, now wished the whole world for [ Y / N ] [ L / N ].

#tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjirou kamado x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer imagines #tanjiro kamado #tanjirou kamado #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #kny #kimetsu no yaiba tanjirou #reader insert #oneshot #kimetsu no yaiba imagines

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umbry-fic · 3 years ago

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A Palette Full of You (5)

Summary: Glimpses into Colette and Lloyd’s lives as they grow up together, learn who they are, and fall in love with each other.

(Written for Colloyd Week 2021)

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Noishe Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving Rating: G Chapter: 5 of 6 Word Count: 4186 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 14/06/2021

Chapter Title: A Brand New World

Chapter Summary: On a day in the park, Lloyd helps Colette with her art in the most unexpected way. In the process, he comes to a conclusion.

(Colloyd Week Day 6: Quote Day: "Let's go explore the new world together!")

Notes: Chapter 5 of my multi chapter Colloyd week fic! (I might have cheated with this prompt.) Fluff galore.

Chapter list Full fic Previous chapter Next chapter

~~~

14-years-old

"Whoa there, Noishe!" Lloyd exclaimed, sidestepping in an attempt to dodge the excited dog bounding towards him through the grass of the park. But Noishe was far too quick to fall for a ruse as simple as that, making a minute adjustment to his path within seconds. Noishe pounced on Lloyd and knocked him to the grass with a happy wag of his tail, Lloyd yelping in protest at the predicament he'd found himself in - Noishe was practically on top of Lloyd, resting two paws on Lloyd's chest and pressing down as if to assert his triumphant victory.

"Noishe, get - off!" Lloyd struggled to get the sentence out against Noishe’s weight. Noishe was no small dog, after all - he was almost half Lloyd’s weight. Not enough to pose any real danger, but enough to make Lloyd feel like he was being slowly crushed by a very furry van.

He patted Noishe on the snout, but to no avail. Noishe didn’t budge, his favourite squeaky toy, shaped like a bone, gripped in his mouth. The toy was slathered in slobber, slowly dripping onto Lloyd's face. Lloyd was used to this by now, but that hadn't succeeded in reducing how disgusting the experience was. He’d need to borrow some tissues from Colette later.

Lloyd sighed, raising his hands in a sign of surrender, hoping Noishe would get the memo to let up. When Noishe got like this, nothing but a really hard push would get him off, and Lloyd was just not in the mood to expend that much power.

Surprisingly, Noishe conceded, taking his paws off Lloyd's chest and dropping the squeaky toy into the grass. Lloyd sat up, taking a deep breath and letting sweet air flood his lungs again.

Noishe barked to get Lloyd's attention, pushing the squeaky toy back towards Lloyd with one paw. He lay down onto the grass with his snout pillowed on his paws and ears drooping, seeming to stare straight into Lloyd’s soul with wide eyes in what Lloyd had termed "the Noishe stare" - the pleading look that Noishe whipped out whenever he wanted something. The best alternative to words.

“Do you want to throw it this time, Colette?” Lloyd asked, retrieving the toy from the floor. He knew Colette loved pampering Noishe, and she hadn’t played with him at all since arriving at the park. She hadn’t had a chance, despite sitting quite close by on the stone wall surrounding the tall rain tree in the middle of the park, too busy staring at her sketchbook.

“Colette?” Lloyd called out again as he craned his neck to look behind his shoulder, perplexed at the lack of an answer. Had she heard him?

It certainly didn't seem like she had. She was still in the exact position he’d left her in when he’d taken Noishe to run one round of the park. Dressed in overalls, her hair in twin braids that rested on her shoulders, legs kicking back and forth with the heel of her sneakers hitting the stone wall, the laces on her right sneaker undone and flying everywhere. Tapping her pencil against her cheek, brow furrowed, she stared down at the sketchbook resting in her lap. A palette with quickly drying paint sat next to her, the solitary paintbrush still dabbed in midnight blue. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, courtesy of the morning sun, soon to be the afternoon sun as it continued to rise.

Maybe she was running low on inspiration again?

“Noishe, catch!” he yelled, throwing the squeaky toy as far as he could, where it landed in a row of bushes. Noishe practically hopped a full ten centimetres into the air, bounding off with a resounding bark and freeing Lloyd of his presence.

“Hey,” he said softly as he seated himself next to Colette on the wall, hoping not to startle her. As he’d suspected, the page of the sketchbook was still utterly blank, save for a messy circle in pencil with dabs of crimson filling it.

“Oh, Lloyd. You’re back from walking Noishe?”

There was silent panic on Colette’s face, screaming "that much time has passed already?".

“No ideas, huh?” he asked.

Colette set her pencil down, shaking her head. “Yeah… Why does this always happen whenever I have to get things done? It’s so infuriating...”

“Isn’t that what always happens? The moment I start trying to get all my homework done, my motivation just disappears. And then I’m left with a pile of undone homework.” Plus a bunch of all-nighters to clear that pile.

Colette sighed, running a hand down her face. There was a tiny fleck of yellow paint by her eyebrow that kept drawing his attention, standing out on her face. She must have unknowingly put it there. He was close enough that he could just reach out a hand and help her get it off, but he held himself back. He'd just tell her about it later. “I have to get my competition piece done by the end of the month, though… There isn’t much time left. Even playing with the paints didn’t give me any good ideas. This is hopeless...”

“Don’t worry too much,” he reassured her, patting her on the shoulder. “I’m sure the idea will come to you eventually! And once it does, you’ll be fine.”

Colette tended to be a slow starter, but once she got into the swing of things she could go for hours without stopping, an almost manic glint in her eyes as she slaved over the tiny details. When she got like that, he had to tap her on the shoulder to break her out of her trance and physically drag her off to take breaks.

Colette puffed her cheeks out, pouting in disappointment. “I thought the change in scenery would help, but it doesn’t seem like it. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.”

“Come on, don’t apologise! Noishe needed a change of pace too. Look how happy he is,” Lloyd said, gesturing to where Noishe was still busy digging for his toy. The bush obscured most of him, leaving only a wagging tail visible.

How could he help her? It’s not like he was any good at art - he couldn’t even draw an apple. What came out when he tried for art class resembled a slimy blob. He did, however, love seeing her create. Loved watching the joy in her eyes as her hand danced across the paper. Loved witnessing the beauty of the final product, because everything Colette touched became a priceless treasure. How could it not, with the care she put behind every deliberate action she took?

So he didn't know much about techniques, but he knew enough about Colette to know that she loved doing art. That was really all that mattered, wasn't it?

Maybe he could push her on…

“Okay. How about you just start?” Lloyd suggested, picking up the paintbrush and pulling it across the paper, a trail of midnight blue left behind.

"I... don't know," Colette replied, taking the brush back and staring at it in her palm like it held all the answers in the world. "It needs to fit the theme and it needs to appeal to the judges. So it needs to have some significant meaning..." She sounded miserable, her shoulders hunched, and Lloyd hated it.

"Does it really matter what others think the meaning behind it is, as long as you know what it is?" Lloyd said, cocking his head. He’d never gotten that part, but he supposed he’d never drawn for anyone else. It sounded like writing an essay. In other words, horrendous.

"Hmm. I guess that's true," Colette conceded, beginning to turn the paintbrush over and over in her fingers. The corner of her mouth was starting to perk up in the beginnings of a small smile.

"And if someone doesn't understand it, I can just explain it to them for you," Lloyd said, well aware that it was an incredibly stupid idea.

"That's... definitely not how it works." Colette replied, breaking out into silent laughter as she set the paintbrush back on the palette. She covered her mouth with her hand, the tip of her thumb coated in dried green paint.

There. A laughing Colette was a much nicer sight.

Before Lloyd could think up of anything else funny to say, Noishe's loud bark cut through the air, alerting Lloyd to the fact that his dog had retrieved the squeaky toy and was on his way back. A quick scan of the park showed Noishe barrelling straight towards them on a crash course - one that inevitably ended with Noishe headbutting Colette’s legs. The toy dropped from Noishe’s slack jaws onto Colette’s sneakers, Noishe collapsing onto his haunches. Lloyd winced, watching Noishe shake his head, as if to shake the stars from his vision. That must have hurt.

“Awww, good boy,” Colette squealed, having hardly felt the impact from Noishe’s collision. She bent down to pick up the toy, dangling it between two fingers without any care for the drool she was coming into contact with, reaching out her other hand to scratch Noishe under the chin.

Noishe, dizziness forgotten instantly, raised his head to expose more of his chin, a happy grin on his face. Colette laughed over Noishe’s cute behaviour, dropping the toy into her lap and proceeding to give him a good rub behind the ears with her other hand. Being attacked on two frontiers with rubs, Noishe could do nothing but howl contentedly and push his head closer to Colette. A slight breeze picked up, brushing his skin and causing the leaves of the rain tree to rustle above their heads. The ends of Colette’s braids were caught in the wind, a small, ecstatic smile on her face.

There it was again. The little flutter in his chest, like a butterfly had replaced his heart and was beating its wings as hard as it could. He was enraptured by the sight before him, the colours all around Colette suddenly more vibrant, much like the pools of paints she’d squeezed onto the palette. The deep green of the leaves, the gold of Colette’s hair, the azure of her eyes, the pale peach of her skin, the brown of Noishe’s fur. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope, giving him a window to a beautiful new world he had yet to experience but longed to, the key to which lay in taking Colette’s hand. He never wanted this moment in time to end, watching a joyful Colette being completely adorable, without a care in the world. It was now that he wished he had Colette’s skill at capturing features on a page with nothing but a pencil, for he wanted to engrave this moment permanently into his heart.

He could recognise a crush because of the countless ones he’d already experienced. When had his original platonic feelings melted into more? The signs had been there, even if he’d failed to recognise them until recently. Slowly, but surely, he’d fallen in love with his oldest friend.

His feelings towards her had both changed and remained constant. He felt the same warm happiness filling him from head to toe that he experienced from being close to any of his crushes, but it was both more intense and calmer, all at the same time. It was the recognisable joy he had always derived from being in Colette’s company, just deeper. It was safety, in the way she had always provided a safe haven - the one who knew all of him, even the parts of himself he hesitated to share to those he did not trust completely.

“Lloyd?” Colette asked, freezing as he leaned closer and used his nail to get rid of the fleck of yellow paint, thumb lingering for just a moment on her face. That life behind all of her animated mannerisms could be felt beneath the surface of her skin, running straight up into his arm and into his heart, jumpstarting it. His gaze flickered to her parted lips for just a second before he tore it back to her eyes, knowing full well he was on a collision course that could not be stopped. She was his sun, drawing him in with inexorable gravity and giving life at the same time.

Noishe had paused in his movements as well, staring at Lloyd with what seemed like knowing eyes. But that was impossible. Noishe was but a dog.

“You had paint on your face,” he mumbled, lowering his arm but not quite shifting away.

She blinked, staring into his eyes with a blank expression, the silence stretching on for an uncomfortable period. Lloyd swallowed, wondering if she’d seen right through him, no matter how improbable that was.

“Oh! Thank you.”

The silence was broken by Colette’s cheery voice as she seemed to return to her senses, sound rushing back into the world as she continued playing with Noishe. She didn’t seem to have caught on to him. He didn’t think she would, not for some time, perhaps not ever.

That was just how she’d always been. Oblivious to the attention she received, even though she had the kindest, most open heart he knew. She was so perceptive sometimes, able to pick up others’ negative emotions and rushing to comfort them, but seemed utterly blind and deaf to matters of the heart. She never seemed to get crushes. Not any that she confided in him, anyway. He’d never held that against her. Feelings were confusing. He knew that from firsthand experience.

It was quite possible she didn't swing his way at all. But it didn't really matter to him, for he didn't want Colette to change who she was. An awkward, kind dork that always had good intentions at heart. That was who he’d fallen in love with.

He had faith. Faith that they would always remain in each other’s lives - like a binary star system, caught in each other’s gravity and revolving around a common centre.

That was enough for him, whether these feelings grew stronger or faded with time. Who knew what the future would hold? Only time would tell.

Noishe, deciding that now was the time to stretch his legs again, pulled free of Colette’s touch. He reared up and placed both paws onto the palette, right on the paint that had not yet dried.

Lloyd shot to his feet, but it was too late to stop his rascal of a dog from running off. “Noishe! Wait!” Lloyd yelled in exasperation as he took off after Noishe, who was busy leaving colourful paw prints all over the grass, leaving Colette to stare after the two of them in astonishment. “I need to clean that paint off! Oi! Noishe!”

But Noishe paid him no heed, starting a game of cat-and-mouse - or rather, human-and-dog.

~~~

Colette knew she shouldn’t be giggling at Lloyd's predicament, but she couldn’t help it. Lloyd was still chasing Noishe around, even though Noishe had been caught multiple times. Each time, the dog had somehow managed to wriggle free, leaving more and more paw prints of paint on Lloyd during the struggle - on his arms, his class T-shirt, his shorts, even his hair.

It was a colourful sight to witness, to say the least, and it had given her mind something to mull over, finally.

Colette smiled, flipping her sketchbook to the next page and putting pencil to paper, the lines and curves flowing naturally now that the brick wall once blocking her path was gone. There were still only shadows of ideas rolling around in her head relating to the competition theme, but what she was sketching now had nothing to do with her art club competition.

Rather, it had everything to do with the scene before her: a boy pretending to be frustrated but unable to hide the grin on his face, and a dog who was clearly having the time of his life.

Hm. How to express it properly?

Maybe an assortment of colours would work...

~~~

27-years-old

"Lloyd!" Colette squealed as Lloyd purposely brought the roller brush across her arm, leaving a line of lavender against her skin. She flinched away from the mixed sensation of the smooth roller and the cold, viscous liquid. "That tickles!"

"That's payback for the black you got on me before this." Lloyd grinned, putting the brush back against the wall and rolling another broad line, putting the finishing touches on the swirl he’d been working on.

“That’s the last galaxy finished!” he declared, dropping the brush into the bucket of paint, where it plopped to the bottom, the metal handle banging against the sides.

“Just the stars and the doggie in the spacesuit left to do. We’ve made good progress in two hours! Good job us!” Colette cheered.

Lloyd took a step back and surveyed the wall of their bedroom, currently painted with swirls of purple and pink, done over a base of pure black that had been finished an hour ago. The room was suffused with the thick smell of paint. The swirls on the wall were a little messy, and didn’t quite resemble the perfect concentric circles of the Milky Way. But it was pretty good for a complete amateur like himself. The original idea had been for Colette to paint the entire thing by herself, since she was the one who knew what she was doing. But she’d insisted he join her, and he was so glad he’d heeded her suggestion. It was incredibly fun to see the colours come to life under his fingers, and doubly so because he was doing it with Colette, watching her get progressively splattered with more paint. There was, as Colette had said, still some work to do, but the final product would hopefully resemble the beautiful starry sky they’d seen on their honeymoon, recreated here for them to wake up to every morning.

Painting one wall of their bedroom was just a single part of the larger plan to decorate the plain little apartment they’d bought for themselves, something that made sense to give their home a personal touch. They’d handpicked and already bought the furniture, most of which had been moved in with the help of the friendly moving company. Their belongings were packed neatly into cardboard boxes, the majority of which were still stacked in corners, waiting to be unpacked.

“Shall we take a break first?” he offered. “Your arms must be tired. We can have a change of clothes and then rest in the living room on our new sofa.”

“Okay. But first… Boo!”

Before he had any time to react to that surprising reply, something poked him in the nose. Lloyd flinched away from the wet sensation, looking down to see Colette grinning mischievously, a thin brush in hand that she had used to do small strokes and which she had just attacked him with.

He rubbed his nose with his thumb, his thumb coming away stained in magenta. He resisted the urge to sneeze, blinking hard. Wow. It really was ticklish.

Schooling his face into an exaggerated shocked expression, he placed one hand on his waist and leaned closer to Colette. "Was that on purpose?"

She stuck out her tongue, eyes glinting with a cheeky light. "Maybe?" she replied, dragging the first syllable out and popping her lips at the end of the second.

Hm. Trying to act as cute as possible to prevent retribution, was she?

Well, it wasn’t working - no, scratch that, it was. Not that he could ever get mad at her in the first place.

But two can play at this game.

"If that's the case..." Lloyd turned her around by the shoulders, wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling her closer to him until her back was flush with his front, resting his chin on the top of her head. Colette let out a startled squeak in response, unsure what to expect. “I’ll just have to trap you here,” he whispered into her ear, his fingers reaching for her sides.

As if realising what was about to happen, Colette let out an alarmed squawk and tried to escape, but it was far too late. With the greatest approximation of an evil cackle he could manage, Lloyd dug his fingers into her sides, squiggling them around as he began the very effective counterattack that was tickling. Colette's greatest weakness.

“No - Lloyd - Stop!” Colette protested, squirming in his grip until her voice dissolved into peals of breathy laughter. Her fingers went slack as she lost her grip on the paintbrush, which fell against the floor. The floor was, thankfully, covered in a layer of newspaper. No leaving paint on the new marble tiles for them.

He was practically rubbing magenta into the old shirt she’d borrowed from him to wear for today, as he moved his fingers up and down, trying to hit every ticklish spot he knew. A little hard to do with all the moving around Colette was doing, but still manageable.

He finally stopped after what he deemed as an acceptable amount of time for enacting his revenge had passed. He didn’t want to go too hard on her, after all.

Colette was left breathless in his arms, glad for the recovery time - she wouldn’t have survived any longer. She could hardly walk as it was.

He released Colette from his grasp, satisfied that he’d won… whatever it was that he had just emerged victorious in.

If she was covered in random flecks of paint before, now she was practically engulfed in it, both sides of her shirt a muddied magenta from all the rubbing. If not for the different outfits, the pout on her face and the much greater amounts of paint everywhere, he would have thought he’d been transported back in time. He could still vividly recall the day all those years ago that she had handed over the drawing she’d started in the park, of him and Noishe, each stroke done in a different colour until the paper resembled a rainbow. And on that thin piece of paper he could see the hours of painstaking care she’d put into a piece that was never to be submitted for anything, her only reason for making it that she wanted to, both for herself and for him. All the intricate details, picked up by an observant eye and translated to paper with skill.

“A thank-you gift. For all your help,” she’d said, the newest song she had recommended to him blaring out of the earpiece that had fallen out of his ear, dangling by his neck. “Besides, I never did give you something in return for that seashell.”

"You still remember that?" he'd replied in astonishment as he'd accepted her gift with shaking hands.

Even now, he still kept that drawing, placed neatly in a clear folder for protection, along with all the other pieces of art she’d gifted him over the years. (Unlike most of his other documents, even vital ones. Those ended up in crumpled balls scattered everywhere that needed to be found in apartment-wide scavenger hunts.)

Her art was an excellent way to understand the world as she saw it - in a completely different way than him, for no two people could see the world the same way, and that was what made forming bonds with others all the more special. In her art, he could see the way she perceived beauty in everything around her, especially how she perceived it in people: as something to be admired and appreciated, but nothing more.

Now that he was free to take her hand in his, they could explore all the brand new avenues that had opened up in front of the two of them. And he would happily do so with her, finding out all the hidden nooks and crannies and all the secrets stored within this shiny new world, recording every second he spent with her into precious memory.

“That… that wasn’t fair,” Colette said in the present, bending over with her hands on her knees and pausing in between words to catch her breath. “That first time was an accident! You were the one who escalated it!”

Her words of protest didn’t match the bright smile on her face as she straightened up, hands held behind her back. She stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. A peace offering, perhaps? To call an end to the paint war before the flames of carnage could consume all?

The next words out of her mouth, however, were not what he expected to hear.

“You’re not off the hook yet,” she muttered against his cheek.

In a flash, Colette attacked with her weapon of choice - revealing the paintbrush she’d somehow managed to retrieve without him noticing, hidden behind her back.

And so the paint wars continued, laughter and yells emanating from the small bedroom as thoughts of finishing the wall or even taking a break were completely forgotten in favour of more chaos.

~~~

Next chapter

#fanfiction #multi chapter #tales of symphonia #colloyd #colloydweek2021 #day 6: quote day #colette brunel #lloyd irving #noishe

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