#ive never been to a ritual but ive decided after tonight that i Need to be there

[voidpacifist]

not saying I'm a huuuuge believer in karma but whoever left/demanded a refund after finding out vessel lost his voice...I'm just saying it IS cold and flu season and I hope genuinely that this kind of ungratefulness is repaid for with a few lost voices of their own ✨that's all✨

[chimcess]

Birdie Shoppe || pjm (IV)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader  Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin  Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut,  Word Count: 4.4k Chapter Summary:  Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the north and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Birdie, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the 123rd Birdie, a young girl who was given her position too early and asked by the goddess herself to fulfil a task none had ever done before- become the Grand Witch of the Foxglove pack. Now a woman, Y/N is revered as the most loved and powerful Birdie of all time, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Chapter Warnings: Long-hair Jimin (yes, this is a warning), Mating Ritual, Chief Ahn is a tiny bit rude (but still chill), a lot of anxiety, General angsty heartbreak stuff, Y/N is not happy at all, but she’s trying to be, everyone is feeling it tbh, blood, graphic injury (?), magic, Sol is naked but nothing graphic, the spirits are back, Jimin is a cinnamon roll, did I say long-hair Jimin? (think The Witcher), very tame   A/N: Part 4 has arrived! It’s a bit shorter than normal but the next one should be a bit on the longer side. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it! prev. | masterlist | next

Sitting at my alter, I breathed evenly with my eyes closed. I had spent the better part of the afternoon praying and meditating. I would need energy tonight, as I had with every previous trip to Bangtan, but moral support from the Gods would be necessary for a successful mating ritual. Opening my eyes, I looked at the grimoire in my lap and sighed. Sol would be presenting tonight, and the pack would know who their head alpha will be. I felt my heart clench but fought through the discomfort to read. 

I had been lucky enough to receive the Grand Witch’s grimoires after he passed on. They had proven most helpful. I soaked in the words he wrote, the step-by-step instructions for each part of the ritual, and most importantly- the parts where I was to leave the circle as quickly as possible. Having never aided a Luna through her mating ritual before, I was appreciative of the guidance and wisdom his books taught me.  

My cottage was silent. Shiloh was sleeping in her bed and none of my friends had come by. Everyone was making themselves scarce. While I appreciated the sentiment, and it was helping me to stay focused, I was not enjoying the emptiness. My mind wandered too often, and it was becoming increasingly more distracting. 

I had stopped pretending my feelings were not hurt a few days ago. I was mourning Jimin before anything was decided, my adoration and love making it physically impossible to be happy for him or anybody else. Now with only a few hours left, I was growing sick with worry and selfishly hoped Namjoon would be picked instead. Even if I would never have Jimin I did not want him with anyone else. Feeling a new set of tears filling my eyes, I roughly wiped them away before closing the grimoire. 

Standing, I looked around my home desperately. I did not want to sew anymore, I had done it all week, and had grown bored of it. Wood carving would be fun but tiring. The same could be said for blacksmithing a blade. I would also wake Shiloh and I knew she needed her rest. Then my eyes landed on the large, red carpet in the living room.  

Slowly, I lowered onto my hands and knees before lifting the only corner not obstructed by furniture. The large black, cast-iron handle stared back at me as did the bear carvings I had dug into the door’s wood many years ago. I ran my finger along the fading lines and sighed. I had done something similar before the fire. Aldara was furious with me, and yet it had taken her mere minutes to join me. I thought about the missing animals for months after she was gone, staring at the empty floor only solidifying my loneliness, and in a desperate attempt for relief I had started carving bears again. I only got three done before I broke down into tears. I had never tried it again. 

Feeling inspired, I pulled a knife from my belt and began carving. My hands moved easily now, none of my lines crooked or hesitant. Unlike my old drawings, these would never fade. Before I had even realized it, I had carved a wolf’s head and groaned. This was not working.  

I slid my little knife back into its holder and lifted the little basement door. My furniture shuffled and dragged but with a flick of my hand everything was back in its proper place. Looking back at the door, my heart broke when I saw the violent stabs in the wood. It was days after the fire, and I had locked myself in the basement. It was the only place left to sleep. Yoongi, Seokjin, and Wendy had come to help fix things along with their parents. After treating all of them horribly, I locked myself away and destroyed many things. The door was almost another casualty. 

“Ignis,” I called out and a flame sprouted from my index finger. 

Using the small ladder attached to the floor, I lowered myself into the dark room. The flame floated around aimlessly with little energy in its movements. I remembered a time when my magic danced and sang brightly and was saddened. Once I reached the bottom of the steps, I reached out and stroked the flame. It shied away from me before growing larger. Sighing, I squared my shoulders and focused. 

“Lampas.” 

The flame shot out, its body exploding in multiple different directions. On the walls were candle holders and they all lit up brilliantly. The flames flickered and danced normally. A memory from Yule years ago came to mind and I felt sad again. Back then, my flames did backflips and gymnastics vying for my attention. Now they were just as plain and boring as Aldara’s had been. She was right in the end. I did learn that magic was more serious than fun.

Down here is where all of the grimoires and books of Birdie's past were stored. It was the reason the room had been spared in the fire. Sixty years ago, Birdie North had placed a powerful protection spell on the room. None of the other Birdies were ever able to figure out how she did it or the way to reverse it. I had tried my hand at figuring it out when I was ten but gave up rather quickly. If Malorna, the 109th Birdie, and someone blessed with absolute intelligence, could not decipher how it happened then I was positive no one ever would. 

Walking over to the large bookshelves across the small room, I ran my fingers along the spines and sighed. Even with all of the knowledge in the world at my fingertips I was clueless. What do you do when what you want is unattainable? Uselessly pine or pretend like you’re over it?

Aldara would say to find a middle ground and go from there. But what middle ground do you find in this situation? Especially since I know Jimin does not want to be Sol’s mate. That thought alone sent a thrill through my body. I felt embarrassed and ashamed of myself for it. 

“Be patient,” A voice whispered into the quiet room.

I smiled sadly. The spirit gently caressed my body and held me close. I had grown used to their presence by now and tried to see if I could figure out who was visiting me today. It was much easier to do if I let them in but I was not in the space to allow that to happen. I had somewhere to be in a few hours and I could not miss it. The spirit ran her fingers through my hair.

“All will reveal itself in time.”

I swallowed thickly, “And if it is what I think it is?”

“You will survive it, little one,” The spirit replied warmly. It had to be Heidi and the thought made my tears well. While I appreciated her reassurance I wanted my auntie here instead. Aldara always knew exactly what to say. A choked sob slipped past my lips. “You are brave and strong. You have nothing to fear.”

But I had everything to fear. Watching Sol walk up to Jimin, her blindfold on tightly, and falling to her knees whimpering while he held her protectively. Well, that would be too much to bear. To see the man I love so desperately, irrevocably in love with someone else would surely be impossible to return from. I felt the gentle brushing of fingers on the back of my neck.

“I’m afraid,” I whispered.

“That’s what makes you brave,” They replied.

Drawing a breath, I nodded. Aldara always said that. It was more comforting if I thought about it like that. Still, I felt uneasy. Still, I knew I needed to study more. So, I sat on the floor and tried to clear my mind.

“Fluito,” I commanded, and a book went straight into the palm of my outstretched hand.

I had decided to walk to the village today. The memory of the first time I saw Jimin had plagued me on my way out and I wanted to retrace our steps. We were both young, I was no more than 13, and had gotten lost during Yule. He had walked me back home. I wonder if he remembered it as vividly as I did, or did he put it in the back of his mind save for a rainy day? It was hard to say for sure. I smiled sadly when I spotted a rogue fairy circle. Gosh, I had been so afraid of the fae back then.

It was quiet tonight. Shiloh had gone off with Patto when I left. They wanted good seats for the ceremony. Morla was already there, I was sure of it, and the rest of the gossipers were more than likely chatting away. Seokjin was most likely sleeping already and Yoongi never cared about the pack’s affairs. I stuffed my hand into my cloak pocket and felt around until I felt the letter.

Wendy had written to me just before I had gone off and I did not have the chance to read it. It had been far too long since I had seen my friend. We wrote often, not as often as I would have liked but she was a busy witch, and stayed up to date on one another. In her last letter, she had said she was traveling to Northorn with her younger sister. Joy was meeting with a possible suitor and asked for her to join.

She had stopped visiting after a particularly bad argument with Jin. I did not know what it was about, or what had happened prior, but according to Patto it had been pretty nasty. When Shiloh gave me the gossip mill’s version of events, I took it with a grain of salt. However, the two parts that did make sense to me were jealousy and Yoongi. Jin was helplessly in love with Wendy, who I knew had similar feelings for him, but the kitchen witch was a roadblock. Wendy had a fascination with the man and Jin could never really get over it. They had not spoken since.

I heard rustling in nearby bushes and paused. Looking around my feet, I was sure I was paying attention to every detail around me. Readying myself for a fight, I began walking again. Slower this time. However, nothing came of it. After five minutes of waiting for whatever had moved to make an appearance, I grew bored and walked at my normal pace. The bushes never rustled again.

The walls of Bangtan were formidable. Tall and built with stone, it looked impenetrable. Just outside the walls of the city lay a small farm. I knew a human family lived there and worked those fields. While I never knew their names, I had heard they were friendly and gave travelers lodging in their spare house. Most humans were wary of wolves- especially anyone from the north. 

On the other end of the wall was a small stream that led back into the ocean. Connected only by a bridge, the ceremonial cave sat. The town itself was quaint and beautiful. On the back, left end was the church that sat up on the hillside surrounded by trees and foliage. In the center of town was the market with homes and businesses lining the rest of the streets. The copiae stayed on the other end of the wall beside the stream. Foxglove was small but mighty and I adored it.

The streets were empty tonight. Everyone was either at the cave or locked away in their homes. The energy of the moon charged me and I knew I was about to have a hard road ahead of me. Even if Sol did not pick Jimin I would still be torn to pieces after putting my body through this. I wished toLilith, hoping for a healthy recovery and made my way to the cave. 

The cave was silent despite the rows of people inside. The unmated wolves were already lined up and waiting for things to begin. The moon was still too low to bring the luna inside. I walked forward and began preparing myself for the ceremony.

Just as I had with every other ceremony, I cut my hair and changed my clothes. Today, the body paint would be done differently. After reading through the Grand Witch’s grimoire, I knew I had to show respect differently tonight. Getting in touch with my feminine side was crucial, and that involved white and soft lines.

I started with drawing two large circles around my eyes. Using a puddle of water in the cave to see my reflection, I then began to bring the outer edges down. The shape made my eyes look sad. I cut off the line at my jawline before fixing the top shape. I used my sockets for reference and began to fill in the area that connected my eye to my nose bridge. Afterwards, I made slightly curved lines that went up. They looked like moth wings and I felt happy. It was very similar to the pictures the Grand Witch had. 

After drawing two little lines on my bottom lip and then a large one down my chin, I was satisfied. I looked gentler today than most. I then reached into my bag and took out crushed pearls and tapped it onto the high points of my face. In the grimoire it was an optional step but one that was looked upon favorably. Apparently, it made the pain lessen though not by much. I was happy I had some in the cupboards regardless.

I then began setting up my altar and made sure to keep my eyes on the moon. It was nearly time when I was finished. I did a quick cleansing spell to ward off any bad luck before announcing it was time. Everyone waited with baited breath.

I ran around the alphas to make a quick circle around them for when everything started. It would be impossible to do after. Sol was being escorted inside the moment I was back to my original place. 

She was naked and blindfolded. Her dark, golden skin was covered in dark chocolate freckles. Even though I knew it was futile, I tried to give her some privacy by not letting my eyes wander too much. She was trembling and looked uneasy. I could only imagine the fear going through her right now. I did not let my eyes wander to the men standing before me. I could not become distracted.

Chief Ahn held Sol with tenderness. He had raised her once it was found that she was the Luna. No one was allowed to claim her as their child. After getting her to the center of the circle, he quickly made his way down. I looked up at the moon through a hole in the cave. 

It was time.

I stepped away from the circle quickly. No one was to be too close. It could confuse Sol or send her into a frenzy. She, or her mate for that matter, very well could kill anyone who they saw as a threat. I did not want to take a chance.

Now away from the ceremony and watching on like everyone else, I let my eyes wander to the man I had been thinking about for weeks. Jimin looked stoic and resigned. I could imagine he was feeling nervous. He looked straight ahead and did not waver. I felt myself tearing up. No, I scolded. You cannot do this here.

Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself down enough to dismiss my tears. I could cry later. Right now, I would look at him as if he were mine until he was not. Until the air shifted and his eyes softened for the omega at his feet, I would watch him.

Sol suddenly lifted her face into the air and her trembling had become full on shaking. Her body fell to the floor as she cried out in pain. I watched with bated breath. It was happening. Taking a deep breath, I watched as she began to crawl.

My eyes went back to the alpha across the room. His hair glistened in the moonlight while his face was hidden in the shadows. A small breeze made his hair twirl. I heard Sol cry out and looked back at her.

She was in agony. I could see it all over her face. From my reading, I knew this was a hard moment for Sol. Her mate was right there and yet she had to seek him out with her senses alone. In a room filled with other alphas no less. Her small body continued to crawl towards her mate. My eyes went back to Jimin.

I was surprised when our eyes locked. The world around me stood still for a moment and I sucked in a deep breath. He looked so… frightened. Of what, I did not know, but he trusted me enough to show me that. I remembered our last conversation and felt my heart break in half. Jimin does not want this.

Then, I heard a loud scream. Snapping back to reality, I looked at Sol. There she was whining and rubbing her face against her alpha’s leg. My shock and joy about it being someone else almost made me forget to check who it was. Quickly saying the binding spell, the other alphas moved away and trapped the newly mated pair in the circle. 

“It can’t be!” I heard someone behind me.

“There must be a mistake,” Said another.

There in the middle of the circle lay Sol, her body practically wrapped around Kim Taehyung’s legs. Almost in shock, the man ran his fingers through her hair. This was the first time any man had seen it. I cleared my throat and began to sing.

The pairing spell was not really a spell at all. Only a charm for good luck and hope for many children. It was said to have produced strong heirs in the past so it was tradition. It had taken me many moons to change it to a spell song. Taehyung had helped the Luna stand and held her closely. She shook and held onto him with all her might. I let my eyes wander after the song to where Jimin was. He looked pleased. 

Miles had been right, I thought. 

I could hear whispers and cries of contempt around the room. No one was happy about this save for Taehyung's family. I could hear his siblings cheering with their mother. I glanced at Chief Ahn. While he did not looked particularly happy, he did not seem too upset either. He knew that the goddess had made her choice. I smiled from ear-to-ear.

“Luna Sol,” I said. “The goddess had chosen your other half. Kim Taehung, you are now the rightful alpha of Bangtan Forest.”

Taehyung smiled at me happily. Sol was in heaven breathing in her alpha’s scent. Kneeling at my altar, I placed my hands on the robe I had prepared before. After singing a quick protection spell, I placed it into my hands before lifting it.

“Come,” I said.

Taehyung sat before me bringing Sol with him. She sat in his lap with her face buried in his neck. 

“Your robes, Luna,” I said gently, hoping my voice would not reach the ears of others.

She quickly untangled herself, snatching the garment from my hands only to go back to Taehyung without putting them on. The alpha took them from her and placed them around her shoulders. The alphas had their robes on already. 

“It is time for me to give you a gift,” I said kindly, already beginning to feel the burn in my back.

I had researched ways to make my wings sprout out without needing the sunlight. Making a sacrifice to Lilith was one way, but I was not using blood for this. However, another way was to gift my feathers during a ceremony. A Bridie from long ago called Reina had talked about it in her spellbook. I tried it myself a few days ago and it worked. It was, however, the most painful experience I had ever gone through.

Putting my faith into the pearl on my face, I began to sing. My back felt like I was being stabbed with a hot branding iron. Sweat pooled down my neck and I screamed out the last part of the spell in agony. I could feel my blood dripping down my body and pooled around me. Feathers fell into the sticky puddle.

Taking two from my wings, I placed them at my altar with shaking hands. I braced myself against the wood and bit my lip as they went back in. I could taste iron and salt. Crying, I put my hands over the feathers and began to sing once more. Shaky and out of breath, the spell made the feathers lift and spin. As I composed myself, the feathers began to change colors and two pristine, white feathers landed gently on my altar. Looking at the couple, Taehyung looked ill while Sol was still at his neck without a care in the world.

“For your new beginnings,” I choked out, using magic to hand over the feathers. My hands were still covered in blood and would stain them. Taehyung took them in awe. I blew and used my magic to make the salt circle disappear. “May they bring you peace and hope.”

With the ceremony over, the people were loud and vocalizing their woes. No one had expected Taehyung to be the alpha except Miles, it seemed. Tired and worn, I allowed myself the chance to lay on the ground to catch my breath. Taehyung called out to me, but Chief Ahn was on him before he could do anything to help me.

“We must speak, alpha,” Chief Ahn said and then looked at me. “Alpha Park! Take care of this.”

“Yes, chief.”

Eye heavy, I lifted myself up and waved my hands. Taehyung told me to rest but I ignored him. I needed to pick up my things. 

“Birdie,” Taehyung said. “You don’t look well.”

“I can do this,” I huffed, forcing my body to move. 

Strong hands covered mine. Jimin looked upset and I froze. What had happened?

“I will do this,” He said, voice hard. “Lay down.”

“But-” I protested.

“Lay.”

I did as I was told this time. Truth is, I was exhausted but I was more afraid of what I could do with Jimin now that he was free of his title. I smiled at that. He was still able to be mine, at least in my mind, now. Jimin placed my things into my bag with great care while the rest of the townsfolk left. Many of them were angry.

“Do you need help?” I heard Namjoon ask.

“No,” Jimin replied.

The alpha left without another word. 

Jimin was swift picking up my things before lifting me into his arms. I knew I weighed nothing to him but I worried about the blood staining his robes. They were expensive and hard to get made. He did not seem to care about this and held me tightly against his chest. 

“You can’t do that again,” He scolded once we were outside of the village.

“Do what?” I mumbled.

“That feather trick. You look like death.”

I hummed, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Jimin sighed, “I forgive you.”

The walk felt shorter now. Jimin, too, seemed to like taking the same path from all those years ago. This made me chuckle. Jimin grinned.

“Care to tell me what’s so funny?”

I giggled, “Do you remember the Yule we met?”

Jimin smiled fully this time. I forced my eyes to stay open to watch it. His eyes crinkled into crescents and his front tooth was slightly crooked. It was contagious.

“Of course,” He reassured me. “I still use your path often. I have to admit, it’s the best one yet.”

I sighed happily, “Except for the thorns but it looks like someone took care of those.”

Before, the trail had massive thickets that cut, poked, and sliced every inch of your skin if you were not careful. However, my walkthrough tonight showed no signs of them anywhere. Looking at Jimin, he seemed shy.

“I did once I began doing my rounds. Trying to doge mushroom circles is difficult when you’re that big.”

I snickered. “I could imagine.”

I was elated. While it was a shock to me that Taehyung was the new alpha, the fact that Jimin was not made it less burdensome. In fact, I was so happy to see Sol on Taehyung, I had forgotten to be surprised at all. Now, I am too tired. Maybe in the morning it would settle in.

“I’m glad,” I found myself saying. “That you got what you wanted.”

Jimin nodded but kept his eyes on the path. 

“So am I.”

Shiloh was waiting for me when I got back and fussed over me entirely too much. Jimin had reassured her that I was alright, just as I had, but the owl refused to stop pestering me. The alpha took it in stride and asked for a pen and paper to write to one of my friends.

Shiloh took care of that while I was in bed. I was touched that he went out of his way to do that for me. I heard the owl fly off a few moments later. From the window she used, I assumed she was headed to Yoongi’s house.

“Thank you,” I called out, already slipping into sleep.

Jimin stood in my doorway and smiled softly at me. Walking over, he sat on the edge of my bed and looked at me. I struggled to stay awake.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” He said.

“Don’t worry,” I replied with a yawn. “Yoongi will help me.”

He hummed his reply. I felt my eyes slip shut and quickly popped them open. Jimin chuckled fondly.

“Get some rest, your friend will be here soon.”

I smiled and closed my eyes.

“I’ll stay with you until then.”

I nodded in response. Moving my hands, I remembered Wendy’s note and sighed. It would have to wait for the morning. And I drifted off soon after that.

Taglist:  @greezenini​ @adventures-in-bookland​ @kthstrawberryshortcake-main​ @zae007live @jimin-neverout

© chimcess, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission

[topazy]

Silent bloom

Pairings: Bellamy Blake/reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and vomit

Chapter: 2.04

You sat inside the commander's tent shaking, as you stared at the blood on your hands. Raven’s scream echoes in your ears.

Clarke sat down beside you, "Y/N … I don’t know what to say."

You began to frantically wipe the blood off, rubbing your hands against your trousers until Abby and Kane entered. Abby immediately pulled her daughter in for a hug.

Clarke stepped back from her mom and looked at you sympathetically. "They would have tortured him. You did what you thought was right."

"What did I do?" You sobbed.

Before Clarke had a chance to say anything else, Gustus entered. "The commander will talk now."

"Blood has answered blood." Lexa said, stepping forward. "Some on my side say that's not enough; they want the murderer to suffer as our tradition demands. But they do not know that your suffering will be worse. What you did tonight will haunt you until the end of your days. Still, there will be restitution. The body will be given to Tondc. The murdedered and the murderer will be joined by fire. Only then can we have peace."

Kane shook his head, "No, no, we've done enough. The boy should be buried by his own people-"

"Enough? We were owed the pain of 18 deaths, we were owed the righteous kill my village deserves justice." Indra spat.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You kept thinking of the last real conversation you had with Finn. His voice was so clear inside your mind, he could have been standing beside you.

‘I was scared... when you disappeared. I thought I’d never get the chance to say I’m sorry, and I needed you to know that I love you.’

Why didn’t you see the signs then? He was saying goodbye. Thinking back, you knew Finn must have already made his mind up to hand himself in.

It was all too much for you. You jumped up and ran outside the tent to throw up, ignoring the dirty looks you were getting. Nobody could hate you more than you hated yourself at that moment. Once you had composed yourself, you noticed Raven crying over Finn’s body, and slowly made your way over to her.

"Go away."

"Raven," you sobbed. "I'm sorry."

"I said go away!"

The brunette couldn’t even look at you, and you didn’t blame her. "I’m so sorry. They were going to torture him. I couldn’t let him suffer."

"He loved you! He loved you, and this is how you repaid him!" Raven eventually lifted her head to look at you. "He was the only family I have, and he’s dead because of you."

Hearing the words coming from her mouth made your body physically ache.

Clarke placed her hand on your shoulder as she stood beside you. "The commander had now agreed to help us," she said quietly before facing Raven. "I know how hard this must be for you, but I'm leaving with the Grounders and I need you to work on the radio."

The brunette stood up and glared at you. "You agreed to this? Is that why you killed him? For some deal?"

"What? No," you pleaded. "I just … I couldn’t let him suffer."

"We're taking him back to the village where the massacre took place. There's a death ritual." Clarke cleared her throat. "It's the only way to get our people out of Mount Weather."

As the grounders began to move Finn’s body, you jumped back when you saw his eyes open wide. You rubbed at your eyes and then they were closed again. You were going insane.

"Daisy?"

You turned to face Clarke. You knew by the look on her face that whatever she was about to say wasn’t good. But then again, things couldn’t get any worse. "What’s going on?"

"I think you should stay."

"Wait … Have you decided that I'm going to stay here as some kind of punishment?"

The blonde let out a sigh. "No. Look, Daisy, I’d be lying if I said the thought of doing what you did didn’t cross my mind. I understand it, I really do."

"But?"

"I spoke to my mom and she agreed it would be for the best. A lot of the grounders still blame you for what Finn did, and now-"

You finished the sentence for her, "now our own people hate me."

"I can walk you back to camp before I go? I don’t think you should go back alone."

You declined Clarke’s offer. "It’s fine, thanks though."

If anything happened to you, you’d deserve it anyway.

—

"I know why you're hiding."

You glanced up at Murphy as he sat down beside you. You had been hiding out in your room since you thought Finn was sitting across you in the canteen. He was everywhere. Screaming at your dead friend and telling him to leave you alone definitely drew some unwanted attention.

Shrugging, you looked away from him, "I don’t know what you mean."

"When the grounders first took me … no, actually even before that. When I was banished and alone, I used to see her while wandering the forest."

You finally turned to face him. He looked so broken compared to his usual smugness. "Charlotte?"

Murphy nodded.

"I see Finn everywhere I look. A part of me is glad that I’m seeing him; it’s keeping him alive." You stopped talking when you saw the look on Murphy’s face.

After a few moments of silence, you let out a laugh. "Why are you here?"

"Well, the council decided to send a bunch of teenagers to earth-"

You let out a soft laugh. "Don’t be a smartass. I meant in my room, not on earth."

He shrugged. "Like I said, I know how it feels."

You gripped your knees into your chest tighter as you let out a shaky breath. Never in a million years did you think John Murphy would be the only person able to comfort you.

"Why did you come back here? I thought you would have stayed with Finn’s body."

"Clarke and Abby didn’t want me to," Murphy frowned, letting out a scoffing noise. "It would have been more difficult to get the deal to run smoothly with me there, and I think they are right." Raven would have been so consumed by anger towards you that she wouldn’t have been able to focus on the radios. "I just wish I’d gotten to see Octavia before she left."

But not Bellamy. You wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye.

"You know, I actually wish the mountain men took me instead of the grounders," you sighed. "Finn would be alive, and I wouldn’t have destroyed Raven."

"You're wrong," he replies. "Finn would still have needed to pay the price for what he did. We all do eventually. But one thing would have been different."

"What?" You asked.

"Raven might have traded me. You think you destroyed her? I shot her. I’m the reason she almost died."

"Was it an accident?"

Murphy frowned, "Of course it was."

You let your legs go straight because you're feeling them start to cramp. "You shouldn’t punish yourself for it; what’s done is done."

"You're such a hypocrite!"

"No I’m not!" You yelled back. "You didn’t mean to hurt her, I meant to kill Finn. I meant to kill my best friend." Shaking your head, you stood up. "Thanks for the company, but I need some air."

—

His blood on the ground was still surprisingly fresh looking.

I’m so sorry Finn.

The whole area seemed eerily quiet now that all the grounders had packed up and gone. It was as if nothing happened.

Sighing, you placed your hand against your chest, which now felt bare. You’d lost the daisy necklace that Finn made you years ago, and without it you felt naked.

How would you ever move on from this? You would need to eventually. It would be difficult, but Monty and Jasper still need your help. You would need to push your heartache to one side until your friends were safe.

Hearing a rustling sound, you glanced over your shoulder. Shit. You were stupid to think it was safe to leave camp yourself. Quickly, you started to run towards camp Jaha when a cloud of thick smoke appeared around you. It wasn’t acid fog, it was something else. It was thick, red, and caused you to choke.

—

"Y/N?"

You blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light. You tried to sit up but were unable to. Fuck. White leather straps covering your wrists attach you to a bed. You gave up fighting against the restrictions. You looked to your left and recognized the blonde in the bed next to you.

"Harper?"

Her hazel eyes were now bloodshot red, and her face was puffy from crying so much. "There’s no point fighting, it just makes it worse."

You took in the rest of the room. It looked like a hospital, judging by all the monitors and IV drips. "Mountain men?" Harper nodded. You looked at her worried, "What do they want with us?"

"Our bone marrow."

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

[athina-blaine]

hey kids wanna see a fic preview??

(howdy! for readers of my tma fics wondering what the heck ive been up to the last month, here’s a little something for you-- yes, you! the full chapter will be posted next week)

(preview under the cut!)

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a man who wanted to save the world, and instead, nearly destroyed it. 

Before he was forced to commit this great evil, the man fled-- but the failed ritual inflicted him with a terrible curse, and he concealed himself inside a dark, lonesome manor. As the years passed and the solitude ate him, he never ventured to the outside world, ever again.

But that was alright. The man preferred it this way. For there remained not one person, living or dead, who was better off for having known Jonathan Sims.

-

"Aren't you lonely, Mister Blackwood?"

THE MONSTER OF MAGNUS MANOR

CHAPTER 1

THE FOG

“Blackwood.”

Martin lurched upright, unfinished letter sticking to his sweaty face. Mister Griffiths was standing in the doorway, his scowl deepening by the second as Martin scrambled out of the desk chair and onto his feet.

“If you’re finished with your nap,” Griffiths snapped, “make your way down to the kitchens at once. Lord Barclay’s guests will be arriving soon.”

“Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.”

With one last, withering look, Griffiths turned on his heel out of the servants’ quarters, and Martin’s shoulders lost some of their tension. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved, or find a good rock to curl under.

At least he’d only been glared at this time.

Martin sunk back into his chair, eyelids threatening to slip shut again. Hard wicker had no right being as comfortable as it was. In all fairness, though, the cold stone floor of the refrigerator would be just as soft right now.

Peeling the letter off his cheek, he flipped it over and groaned. Oh, perfect. He’d gone and completely smudged the thing. Half his face was probably covered in a splotch of ink.

No wonder Griffiths had looked at him like he was dog shite underneath his shoe. At least the dog shite wasn’t going to be late to its shift, now.

He huffed.

At least he’d snuck in a few winks before he needed to get ready. Something was always better than nothing– even if the thick, pulsing needle driving itself through his temples disagreed. Hopefully, it would be enough to get him through today’s shift.

Especially today’s shift.

He tucked the letter underneath his pillow; he’d have to rewrite it later if he wanted it ready to send out tomorrow morning. 

A new uniform was waiting for him in the communal wardrobe, one that Lord Barclay had ordered just for the occasion. His dormmates must have already grabbed theirs– aside from his, the wardrobe was empty.

Bit annoying that they hadn’t even taken the time to give him a quick tap on the shoulder. ‘Hey, Martin, rise and shine, big day today, don’t want to be late!’

Perhaps they’d figured it was best for him to sleep as much as possible. This wasn’t  the day to get sloppy, after all.

Or maybe they hadn’t considered him at all.

He hoped it was the first one.

Uniform slung over his arm, Martin hurried toward the servants’ washroom. He was making good time; with any luck, Griffiths’ scowl would never graduate higher than mildly disappointed. On the scale of the head butler’s ranking displeasure, it wasn’t the worst place to be.

In his haste, however, he bumped into the shoulder of another server. Martin turned, an apology already on his lips, then paused.

“Charles?”

Charles spun around, and his eyes brightened.

“Look who decided to make their way out of bed,” he said, giving Martin’s shoulder a playful pat. “You know Jefferies is going to have your hide if he sees you like that, yeah?”

“Please don’t tell him. He’ll kill me this time, he really will.” His eyes flitted down Charles' figure, brows shooting up. “You … you’re wearing the new uniform.”

“I am, indeed. How do I look?” Charles asked, smoothing down the front of his chest. “Fetching, right?”

“I-I, uh, you …”

It was hard to get the words out. Anyone would look good in a uniform like that; that was why Lord Barclay had bought the bloody things. But the dark red jacket, white gloves, and navy tie complemented Charles’ ginger hair and smile in a way that tangled his tongue something fierce.

Martin’s face warmed, and he hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“You look wonderful,” he said. Then, face growing even hotter, “I mean, um,” he coughed, “it looks really good.”

Charles’ grin widened, and Martin had to stop himself from slapping his own face. Get it together. There was something more pressing here.

“But you’re going to start serving? Today? You’ve barely even finished your apprenticeship.”

“Griffiths needs all hands on deck. I’ll be fine. You’re such a worrywart, you know that?”

Of course Martin was worried. Charles had only been working in the castle for a few months, and Griffiths was going to have him start now? On the night of Lord Barclay’s autumn soirée?

Martin was about to remind him of that when a wave of dizziness crested over him, weakness shivering up his legs. He would have tipped over if Charles hadn’t grabbed his shoulder.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay? You’re looking a little …”

If Martin’s face was hot before, it was nothing compared to now.  “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Again?” 

“I’ll be fine once I’ve had a wash up.”

Charles’ eyes lingered on him so long that Martin was sure he’d well and truly pass out. After a moment, Charles gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and withdrew.

“You’d best. Well, I need to be off. Ol’ Griffiths is on the warpath. Good luck tonight, yeah?” He winked. “Drinks on me at the pub later.”

“Y-yeah. See you.”

Martin tracked him until Charles left the room, eyes drifting on the corner where he’d disappeared until another dizzy spell swept over him.

Focus. Charles hadn’t been kidding about what Jefferies would do if he knew Martin still hadn’t changed yet.

The reminder had Martin rushing through his wash. Throwing the new uniform on was a struggle; all those foreign buttons and straps kept tangling together, and he got stuck twice before securing the last tie. 

Martin paused in front of the mirror to check himself over. It was... nice enough, he supposed. The most expensive thing he’d ever worn, that was certain. Despite the custom fit, though, the torso still hugged too tight around his chest, and the material scratched at the sensitive skin on his neck.

Luckily, he’d only have to wear it tonight.

With one last glance, he smoothed down his hair and hurried out into the main hallway.

Chaos. The corridors were packed wall to wall with other servants, confused about where they should go, what they should be doing. The crowd smothered him; how had he managed to sleep through this? Now, in the thick of things, his ears were beginning to ring.

“Martin!”

Pausing, Martin scanned the sea of twisting faces. Angelica was elbowing her way through the swarm, drawing sharp cries of pain from her victims, but her expression of dogged determination didn’t change.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, as soon as she was within earshot. “I just wanted to say thanks for setting up the guest bedrooms last night. I would’ve been up ‘til dawn if I’d had to do it myself.”

Martin, who had finished outfitting the last of the guest quarters just as the sun was rising, smiled. “I’m glad I could help. Wasn't really fair to you, getting assigned something you aren't used to.”

She nodded in agreement, sage-like. “I swear, Griffiths is out to get me. I’d rather stay in the laundry room where I belong.” Then she reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a bundle of cloth. “We had apple slices for breakfast this morning,” she explained, holding the bundle out. “I saved you mine. You know, as a thank you.”

Woken by the mention of food, his stomach spasmed. He hadn’t even spared a thought for breakfast– based on the sun’s height, the servants’ meal hour had long been over. 

Eyes burning, he accepted the gift. “Thanks, Angie. I really needed this.”

She beamed up at him.

From somewhere within the clamour, an authoritative voice rose up. “Come on then, to your stations!”

The tide of the crowd was pushing them apart before the last word faded. “Good luck, tonight!” Angie called as she turned to follow some of the others into the laundry room. Martin waved back to her, and once she had disappeared from view, unwrapped the cloth and bit into one of the apple slices.

Sweet and refreshing. Martin let his eyes slide shut, savouring the crispness. Thank God for Angie. There was no telling when his next meal would be; Griffiths had informed everyone last night that they wouldn't have time for their regular lunch. 

He finished the last slice just as he reached the kitchens. If the hallways had been chaotic, this was a scene straight out of a nightmare. Servers were shouting orders to the kitchen staff, the kitchen staff were dancing around the servers, and everyone inched a hair's breadth away from colliding into one another. It was only through sheer level of experience on the part of the servants that they managed to avoid absolute disaster.

And in the centre of it all was Jefferies, shouting directions and helpful threats in equal measure.

“If a single one of you even so much as serves a smudged glass,” he roared, “the Lord’ll have all our heads!”

The ringing in Martin’s ears had gone from loud to stringent. Bracing against a countertop, he dragged a hand across his face.

Focus.

Plate the food, take it to the dining hall, serve. He’d done it a thousand times. This was the exact same thing.

He just needed to stay focused.

“Here, Blackwood.” One of the servers pressed a tray of champagne flutes into his hands. Taking one more bracing breath, Martin shouldered his way back into the corridors.

Time to get this over with. The frantic noises from the kitchen fell away in increments until, at last, he reached the ballroom.

[mercifuldeaths]

The Heat that Drives the Light

Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: Michael hasn’t been himself having to literally carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Because Michael hasn’t been okay, you haven’t been either. 

Notes: Just a blurb that got out of hand. Was originally supposed to be really smutty and about distracting Michael while he worked...but this came out of that. I think it’s a little more interesting to take down the walls that Outpost!Michael puts up and get a little more into his psyche. Sorry it’s a bit sad and not smutty at all, but I hope you enjoy, nonetheless. 

Warnings: Sad cockwarming. Because apparently I’ve made that a thing. 

Word Count: 3K

Credit to @yourkingcodyfern​ for the beautiful gif.

Being underground was suffocating. The walls closing in, high ceilings not doing enough to clear the air and you felt the dust settling in your lungs. Outpost Three had become something strange to you. Having spent happier times there with Michael when things were simpler placed fond memories in certain corners where he had hiked up your skirt or placed little nips on your neck. But now, it reeked of desolation.

Sure, there were the Sanctuary candidates, but did they really matter? Gone were the warlocks that Michael had called his friends, his teachers, your mentors. All that remained were the near-empty hallways. Modified victorian dress rather than the Hawthorne uniform you liked to remember Michael wearing, his hair still short, and eyes still bright.

He had hit something of a wall. After traveling to all the outposts, each of them overrun, each failing his father a little more, Michael started to turn inwards-even to you. You knew it wasn’t you nor him. It was the stress, because that’s all he could be described as of late. He hid it well, you admitted. Perfectly coiffed hair, tailored suits, and a cocky grin on his lips all made up for the man you knew was crumbling under the facade. The crushing guilt he felt for not carrying out his father’s plan to perfection.

It really wasn’t that bad...it was just one of those nights. A night where Michael was overwhelmed and working himself into the ground. He had been sat at the desk in what was his former dormitory when he was a student. He opted to take that one, refusing another Outpost guest to take ownership over it. Sentiment, you supposed.

Regardless, he sat there since dawn, or what you imagined was dawn as it was impossible to tell in the claustrophobic bunker. He had refused meals, even offering something from the stash you both had packed from the Sanctuary, and only accepted coffee. Just something to keep him going. You knew this wasn’t how he had intended to spend the day. He was dressed in his usual tailored shirts and jacket, ready to face the guests. But he hadn’t stepped outside the bedroom. And on days like that, he usually would stay in his sweatpants, hair tied in a bun, and shun the world from seeing him like that. Vulnerable. Out of his armor.

He was growing distant. Again, not at his fault and probably rooted in your natural insecurity of the relationship. It wasn’t easy being the partner of the Antichrist.

You continued to roam the halls, anything to do at this point ,having read all the interesting books in the Hawthorne library ages ago. The other guests of the Outpost were asleep, mandated by Venable’s strict schedule. She knew better than to say anything to you.

Your shoes clicked on the polished marble of the floor, almost comforting you. You felt less alone, in a sense. The sealed corridor that lead to the room Michael performed his rituals in was slightly pushed in, reminding you that maybe he had started one. That’s really all he did. Work from his computer, work with the other Cooperative higher-ups, and work for his father under the guise of asking for help. You knew better than that.

It was maybe the third time you had to pick Michael up off the floor, blood still painting his skin and the floor around him, you asked him to stop. He had passed out. Weak from blood loss, dehydration, probably malnutrition. You begged him to slow down, to take a break. He couldn’t. He literally had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You could tell it was getting to that point again, because it did ebb and flow depending on the state of the world, the outposts, the competency of the Cooperative that week. It was understandable. Outpost Three was a success in some ways. But others, a massive failure. Nobody was making it to the Sanctuary. He had closed the book on every person left in the world. Made his final cuts, and was now weighing the decisions heavily in his mind. It was extremely successful because it was still standing, almost everyone alive. And then there was that Mallory he was trying to figure out-sitting on his knees, blood pooling as he screamed for help, screamed for answers. You weren’t sure if he was actually asking his father for help or just needed to scream his frustrations. There was a feeling sometimes that Satan had given up on him, left him here to flounder until everyone on the earth, including Michael, was gone-given into the fire and disease around them.

With really nothing else to do, and nobody to talk to, you meandered back to Michael’s room. Even if you shared it during your stay at the Outpost, it would always stay as Michael’s dormitory in the back of your mind.

You took the long way. Passing by your secret corners, the library shelves you’d hide behind, the kitchens where midnight snacks were shared...anything to remind you of the Michael that stole your heart and soul.

You sighed before opening the door, not bothering to knock as he had probably already heard you. Preparing yourself for the image of your overworked Michael, a sight that saddened you just a little, you opened the heavy door.

As you expected, he was sat there, typing away on his laptop. The blue light of the screen cast ghoul like shadows on his features, reminding you of the demon’s face you had only borne witness to once. That with the warm light coming from the candles and fireplace set Michael in a strange light. Regardless, it accentuated the stress hiding in his shoulders, between his brows, his tightened lips.

He didn’t look up, but did spare a, “Hi, my dove,” as you headed over to the bed. Changing course, you decided to walk over to him, your Antichrist who seemed so small lately. Feeling a little selfish, you ran your fingers through his hair, something you knew would distract him but also something you needed.

It had taken a toll on you, the only person you really trusted, to abandon you, in a sense. You just wanted to feel him. Touch him. And judging by the way his typing slowed and he leaned into it, you suspected he needed the same. His eyes closed lazily, sleepily, as he rested his cheek against your palm. You rubbed soothing circles into his cheekbone, admiring the beautiful face that was hidden under the layers of stress, under the pressure put on him. When he was himself, his face was soft-no tension, pure radiance. Eyes not shooting daggers, no snarling lip, venom in his voice. Just a man who was forced to grow up too fast, thrown the world to carry, and nobody to help him hold it.

You’d said it a million times to him, but it didn’t stop you from muttering a small, “You work too hard, Michael,” while still stroking his soft hair.

“I know,” came the familiar reply, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“But you have to,” you said before he could. You knew the script by then.

“...But I have to,” he echoed, typing stopped for a moment, his hand coming to meet yours that had somehow settled over his chest. “I know I’ve been….absent lately. You know I don’t want to be doing this, right? I didn’t know it would be like this.” He looked to you, bloodshot eyes starting to tear. Before any could fall, she shook his head to refocus and let his eyes look over to the small collection of empty mugs that covered the desk, so very unlike Michael’s usually neat freakish tendencies. He picked one up, dark, cold coffee sat at the bottom, obviously abandoned quite a while ago. He knocked it back, grimacing at the too strong, bitter grinds that had made it into the cup. You saw his hand shake, just the slightest amount.

“Maybe no more of that.” You took the mug from him and replaced it on the desk, further from the others and his collection of files. “Come to bed, it’s late.”

He hesitated and you already knew the answer. “I just need to finish this. Then I can sleep.” He nodded, almost trying to convince himself that he’d be sleeping next to you soon enough. “In a few minutes… get in bed and I’ll meet you.”

He tried to smile. It wasn’t like he was unaware of what he was doing to you. He saw the way your heart seemed to break a little more each time he had to choose work over you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t in his plan. His nor Satan’s. Michael knew deep down that he was never supposed to fall for anyone-he hadn’t the time.

But had happened. And you were his.

He wouldn’t change it for anything.

“I’m not sleeping without you tonight,” you mumbled, leaning over him from behind and gently kissing his neck. Just a small motivation to get him to relax, just a little. You untied the messy bun his hair had been pulled into, loving the way it fell to his shoulders and framed his face against the contrasting lights.

His eyes remained unfocused, looking away in guilt. He wanted you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. It was that there wasn’t enough time and for all his planning everything remained a failure. He supposed that maybe he deserved this as punishment. Working every day, nonstop, while his love was there and waiting for him. A sick mockery of Hell itself. Michael suspected that it was his father’s doing. Allowed to remain living as a reward for bringing the end times but punishment for not doing it well enough.

“I’m so-sorry,” he choked out, voice still rough and cracking.

Coming around to stand in front of him, you tilted his head up to look at you. No more words were needed as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss to his full lips. You felt a sigh come from him, a small amount of tension leaving. He couldn’t help but move against you, hands reaching to your waist, your cheek, anywhere. He needed to feel you. Feel how you moved, breathed, radiated energy. Just to feel something living and breathing in this cold, dead world he had created.

Before even thinking, processing that he was still busy, you slipped off the dressing gown you had on as coverage as you meandered Hawthorne earlier. Michael settled his hands on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles as you stood before him, in between his spread legs and his desk. He leaned in, lips and tongue tracing your stomach and sides. Unable to stop himself, he pulled you in, arms wrapping around tight, until you were settled straddling his lap.

You continued the open but small kisses to his neck. Unbuttoning his shirt, you slid it down his shoulders, knowing full well that he wouldn’t fully undress but needing to feel his warmth against your cheek as you rested on his shoulder. He was hardening under your ministrations but that really wasn’t your intention as you just needed to feel him. Not even sexually. Just as another person. His warmth. The rise and fall of his chest, his breath.

Knowing you were causing just another distraction in his already busy life, you stopped your small movements but couldn’t find it in you to climb off, reveling in the sensation of him against you. He felt the same. Your weight on him a reassuring presence that maybe he wasn’t as alone as the thought.

Taking a moment from the small bites he was leaving on your shoulder, he looked past you, eyes settling on the open laptop. You felt him sign under you, already defeated. His hands hesitated over your hips, refraining from grabbing you like he wanted to.

“Michael. Look at me,” you whispered, the room only full of the sounds from the crackling fire. Your thumb traced over his cheekbone, eyes pleading for him to just relax for even a moment. “Please…”

He couldn’t, ashamed that he’s let it get this far. Let himself get so caught up in work that you were neglected...that he, himself, was feeling neglected. He sighed, eyes still downcast. “I have to. I know we’re both feeli-”

“You can keep working. I know how important this is. I just wish you would let me help you relax a little.”

“I miss you.” The confession dropped from his lips. Despite spending every day, almost all day, at his side you missed him, too. Even when you were sitting beside one another, laying in bed, even occasionally while intimate...he felt miles away.

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. I’m right here.” You resumed placing small kisses onto his temple, jawline, all the places that made his eyes flutter shut and heart full. His hardness still pressed into you and you reached to cup him through his tailored trousers.

“Y/N….not tonight,” he choked out, looking broken.

“No. I don’t want you to fuck me, I just need to be close to you. I need you.”

Michael nodded slowly, recognition setting in. He allowed you to remove him from his confines, breath already coming faster now that your hand was gripped around his length.

“I need you, too. Please. I need to be in you,” he murmured against your lips, sounding more desperate than he cared to admit. You nodded in response, noses brushing innocently, and placed another kiss behind his ear, over the mark of the Beast. The very thing that defined him, made him what he was, who he was. The reason he was this overworked shell of himself. You couldn't help but still love every part of him.

Not completely free of bad intentions, you pressed yourself against him so he could feel the slick heat of your core against himself. Michael let out a soft moan, his mouth occupied toying with your nipple. You felt him shiver under you and tingles resonate up your spine. As much as you wanted to, it wasn’t the time to play cruel to your Antichrist.

It didn’t take long for you to line yourself up to him and before you could do anything, Michael’s steady hands gripping your waist forced you slowly downward onto him. Once fully seated on him, the two of you let out contented sighs. His head rolled back and your hand instinctively went to catch it, supporting his neck. You took the opportunity to nip on his full bottom lip, but smiles bloomed over both of your faces. Finally home.

“You...still need to work.” The spell remained unbroken, however. He nodded reluctantly, head now resting on your front.

“I know,” he resigned and you felt his hands leave your body, cold rushing in where his touch left. It was mere seconds later you heard the quick taps of his nimble fingers over the keyboard, the shuffle of paper.

It was irrelevant. Everything was except the warmth you felt radiating from him, the stretch of your cunt around him, his body inside yours. Physically as close as two people can be. Emotionally...you were getting back there, you could feel it.

He showed it in small ways. A small kiss to your palm when you’d graze a hand over the velvet of his jacket, the softening of his eyes from across the room when dealing with Cooperative business or reprimanding Outpost inhabitants. It was there and always would be. You knew the shroud was lifting and it would be back to hiding in the corridors of Hawthorne, his laugh radiating and a perfect match for his boyish grin.

One of his hands removed itself from the keyboard to caress down your spine and settled at the base, warm and firm. You breaths matched, each sigh shifting him inside you, hitting a new angle, making you feel even closer than before.

The keyboard clicks continued, slower due to the fact the one of his hands was stroking the soft skin at your hip. Michael’s shoulders dropped a fraction when you placed your head on his shoulder, nose brushing the sensitive spot under his jaw. His eyes lowered, breath softened.

Over the course of the minutes, he would occasionally drop a kiss onto your shoulder, soft and awfully chaste considering the fact that he was buried in you. But it wasn’t about that, that evening. It was about Michael and who he was and his breath and movement and reminding him that maybe things weren’t so bad in the godforsaken hellscape he was responsible for. That there was still some good left, despite the original goal to strip humanity of that.

And he knew it. He felt it from you. The undying love that you held for him and he could only be reminded that there was good left. And that he loved you, the same.

The typing continued even after Michael dropped a cheek to your shoulder, head tilted, as he somehow continued working through his drooping eyelids.

“Mmmmmm,” he mumbled into your skin, exhausted.

“I know.” He didn’t need to speak, you already knew what he was trying to say.

His other hand settled on the back of your neck, the only sound being the crackling fire and candles. You shivered and he pulled you in, bodies still connected.

“Michael,” you whispered, going to suggest that maybe you two go to bed, but the small shake of his head told you that he’d rather stay put.

His breathing evened out, face still resting on your shoulder. All his muscles relaxed into your touch. Finally at ease.

Your fingers threaded through his hair and you considered waking him to move to bed...but you were comfortable too. Warm and finally feeling a little more complete with him inside you. Perhaps closing your eyes for just a few minutes couldn’t hurt.

Tags: @ccodyfern @langdonsinferno @langdonsrapture​ @starwlkers​ @michael-langdon-appreciation​ @babypinkstyles94​ @i-will-die-for-jim-mason​ @langdonalien​ @katiekitty261​ @duncvn​ @wroteclassicaly​ @lvngdvns​ @aveiangdon​ @americanhorrorstudies​ @sojournmichael​ @1-800-bitchcraft​ @nana15774​ @langdonsdemon​ @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul​

[1pepsiboy]

Newness (PT 1) - Colby Brock Blurb

POV: First person (Y/N)

Word count: 2163

Warnings: Colby fucking Brock, swearing, light smut

A/N: So...here’s part one of the new two parter blurb I’ve been working on for a couple weeks now. Part two definitely has more of the smut so...stay tuned babes ;)

@topthis808 ,  @j-ust-l-ive​ , @imprettysleepyhonestly​ , @themichelledavis​ , @cold-hearted-bish​ , @prettypattie , @sometimesiimaginethings​ , @i-am-just-trash-sorry , @almostelegantfire , @space-magick, @charliecynthiia 

Sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged! (There’s a couple who wanna be tagged, but it won’t let me?? I’m sorry about that!) And if you wanna be tagged next time I update, just let me know! <3 

***

I adjusted my black, ribbed, criss cross front crop top that I wore with maroon, high waisted, skinny jeans and quite beat to shit, white, low-rise Converse. There was a sudden impact against my side and I stumbled a little before regaining my balance. I looked over at my giddy friend clinging onto me in a side hug.

“Hiiii Y/N.”

I laughed, reaching to brush out some of her bangs. “Hey, Jenni. How you feeling?”

She detached from me to throw her hands in the air. “I feel fantastic!”

“And how much have you had to drink?” I questioned, taking a step forward in the line for Joe’s, the main bar near campus. I’m a senior and this is my first time coming here; it’s a ritual I guess to come at least once, may as well do it now. It’s not that I don’t like to party, I’ve always sort of been against school spirit… doesn’t matter where I’m going; I was like this in high school too.

“Uhm…” She began counting on her fingers, but then gave up. “Enough so I don’t have to buy a lot here.”

I pointed a finger to my temple and then at her. “Logic.”

It’s what my other friend, Syrena, and I did, but also, she’s not 21 yet. I’m not saying I approve of underage drinking, but she’s so close and we were responsible about it.

“ID in your left hand and cash in your right!” The guy at the front door yelled.

“I don’t need the cash.” I mocked and Syrena sent me a small glare.

“Shut up, I’m almost there.”

I nodded. “Mmmhm.” I handed the girl my ID, she checked it and stamped my hand.

Syrena took my hand and guided me into the front entryway; it was slightly smaller than I was expecting to be honest. The small entryway had a pool table, then there was the only bar to the left in front of us, some high tables and stools to the right, a higher platform with seating that’s on the left, and then the dance floor was next to it.

“I’m gonna get a drink.” I stated. “Want anything?”

“Red Bull and vodka.”

I nodded and went over to the bar, resting my elbows on the counter as I waited. It was like midnight and this place was just getting started with how packed it is; the vibe felt great, not gonna lie.

“Hey, you’re Y/N.”

I looked in the direction of the voice. It was Cross, this wrestler I’ve had a couple classes with. He’s kind of cute, kind of sweet, but I don’t feel it with him. Not that I ever have with anyone.

I brushed back some of my hair. “I am, and you’re Cross.”

He laughed, licking his lips, and then did a lip bite. “Didn’t think you’d ever come here.”

“Talk about a wrong thought.” I replied, finally waving down one of the bartenders. I leaned in so he could hear me and ordered Syrena’s drink and a Malibu and Sprite. I held out a ten for the guy to take after he set down the two drinks. I picked up Syrena’s and handed it back to her as the bartender was distracted, then took my change from him and my drink.

“Nice talking.” I took a sip and held up my drink up in the air for a moment before taking a step away.

“Wait,” he reached out to grab my upper arm, “dance with me later?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.” I lightly tugged my arm from his hand and met back up with Syrena and Jenni.

Jenni somehow had another drink; it’s not like this place is 100% fool proof or checking age at the bar. “Let’s go dance!” She squealed.

I nodded. “Yeah!” I took another sip as we weaved through the kids. It got hot fast with how crowded it was in general, but the dance floor was the most infected with people. I could feel the beat of the music I didn’t know in my chest and had so much pleasure letting loose.

I ran a hand through my hair as I grinded with this random girl, feeling a layer of sticky sweat on my skin. In a normal state, it’d probably feel gross. Right now, it felt fucking amazing. I leaned back into her as her hands held my sides and a few seconds later her lips were grazing my neck. I closed my eyes and bit my lip.

There was now another body up against my front and my eyes shot open to see who it was; Cross. He’s kind of ruining the girl on girl here.

“You two are so hot!” He yelled, his breath reeking of beer.

“Thanks.” I mumbled, losing my horny mood a little.

He smiled, trying to grind closer to me. “Mind if I join?”

The brunette’s hands squeezed on my sides and she yanked me ever closer, her lips actually placed some butterfly kisses on my neck before licking up and she nipped my ear. “She’s mine.”

His face deadpanned. “Are you two like a thing?”

“Yeah.” I replied, laughing. Sure we are.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.” He backed up and turned around to go find someone else.

I turned around to grind front to front with the girl and leaned in close to her ear. “Thank you!”

Her lips trailed my chin until they pressed against my lips. “Of course, baby. Girls gotta stick together.”

I was horny again. I downed the rest of my sour apple pucker and sprite and pointed towards the front. “Need to use the bathroom?”

She bit her lip as she trailed her hand down my front and placed it over my heat. She gave a small rub and nodded. A simple yes would have sufficed, damn she’s good.

I grabbed her hand and we hurried into the bathroom. I was going to check to make sure no one was in the one stall bathroom, but the girl pushed me up against the wall without warning and kissed me.

I’m fine with this.

***

“Call me later, baby.” The brunette winked, handing me my phone, and walked off.

Fuck that was amazing, but I won’t be calling her later.

I got another drink, Red Bull and vodka this time, and went to find Syrena and Jenni. They were up on the small stage, dancing. I’d lost them earlier, but it worked out. I walked through the higher platform area, stepped up onto the booth like seating, and got up onto the stage next to Jenni. I know Syrena was giving me a look, but I ignored. She knows how I am.

“Ayeee!” All of us cheered and rythemed together on display for everyone to see.

I felt hands lightly rest on my waist and pull me in. I smirked, biting my lip, and started to move my hips with whoever it was; just by the presence, it was definitely some dude.

I did any good hip movement and butt pushing into this dude’s dick area as I could. Even bent over to get a full ass shot in and snaked back up. I went slow now as the guy brought ring covered fingers to grip my hips and he moved them to my torso area, not getting too close to the breasts or vag; respect bro. When I brought my free hand to tangle into my hair, the song ended. I could finally look back to see who I’d been dancing with.

His piercing blue eyes were still looking at me as he was giving me a handsome, yet sexy smile.

I felt someone tap my shoulder so I flipped around. Syrena pointed towards the front. “I’m ready to go!”

“Don’t Stop Believin’” started to play now and I was pulled back into strong hips. Colby Brock wants to keep going with me? Oh my God, that’s unreal. I don’t even know why he’d be around here; I don’t want to question it too much.

I held up one finger. “One more song. Here, take my glass.” I chugged the rest so I’d have both hands free.

Both of us were laughing as we belted the chorus, still keeping our hips connected. But when it wasn’t the chorus, Colby was focused on getting me closer and I happily leaned back against his entire upper body, bringing both hands to run though my hair.

I felt my heart drop when the song ended, which was sort of weird feeling to me, and I knew Syrena was going to drag me out. We promised to stick together; if the other wants to leave, we both leave. I took a deep breath though and decided to shoot my shot, trying to play it cool; I’ve literally never done this before.

I turned around, keeping my body close and brought my lips to his ear, which he seemed to oblige to. “Wanna switch Instas?”

He pulled back, clapping his hands once. “Yeah!” He whipped out his phone from his back pocket and did something before handing it to me. He had his Instagram finder pulled up. Calmly as possible, I found myself and hit the follow.

Holy fuck.

He smirked into a laugh. He rested a hand on my upper arm and leaned in to rest his lips on my ear. “Hit me up later.”

His voice sent chills down my spine and I swallowed with a nod. “Okay.”

He did a lip bite smile before jumping down from the ledge and joining some unruly curly haired brunette guy; Eli, I think. I didn’t know that his friend was around here, especially not around the Burg.

“Earth to Y/N! Come on, let’s go!” Syrena yelled, obviously getting irritated from being tired.

I was on a high now and knew I’d be up for a while. I hopped over the cushion seating onto the carpet and she hooked her arm with mine. The cold rain felt good on my hot skin from all the dancing, hooking up, alcohol intake, and pounding music.

“So...was that who I thought it was?”

I looked over at Syrena as we began to power walk back to our dorm. “Uhm...I’m afraid if I say yes, it won’t actually be real.”

She laughed, small white puffs leaving her close by. “What did you talk about before we left?”

“Eh,” I dragged in a high pitched voice, brushing back some bangs, “he followed me on Insta and told me to hit him up later.”

“Later, as in tonight?” She raised her eyebrows.

I shrugged. “No idea.” She shot me a look and I shook my head. “I really don’t, but I highly doubt it.”

“Really, Y/N? You’re gonna play that game? You know everyone was watching you two, y’all had some hot shit going on. I bet you’ve already thought about fucking him.”

I snorted. “No shit. It was just the mood in the bar, and I hooked up with that gir-” I pulled my phone out for a second and stopped short. “Or maybe not...”

I showed her my message and she made a teasing face. “I was gonna go to Chuck’s anyways. The room is all yours.”

I pressed my lips together in a thin line, but excitement was rolling through my body and I couldn’t help jumping up and down. “Holy fuck!”

“Hells yeah! Look at us go!”

Getting back to the room, I looked like an absolute mess. My hair was tangled and clothes were soaked from the rain. I found a pair of black, booty short panties and disposed of everything I was wearing before putting them on. Then, without thinking, I pulled on my grey Take Chances hoodie. I brushed my hair out the best I could and then set it up into a messy bun, the bangs are just gonna have to be.

“Have you replied to him yet?”

Syrena was now in a dry pair of black joggers and a pink, long sleeve, jersey style shirt.

“Not yet. I will.”

“Good.” She smirked, eyeing my attire. “Is that all you’re gonna be wearing when he comes?”

“I don’t know...probably... It’s comfy, okay?”

She raised her eyebrows up and down. “Mmmhm. You’re not wearing a bra, are you?”

I flipped her off. “Go get your booty call.”

“I will.” She turned around, opening the front door to our small two person dorm, but we had our own private bathroom. “Get that second course, okay? Be safe though, I love you!”

“I love you too.” I called before I watched her shut the door. I picked up my phone to respond to Colby with where our room was at. Then I grabbed some saltine crackers to munch on to soak up some of the alcohol that I barely felt; I’m not even drunk, which a normal person would be with how much I had.

Next and last part.

[More stuff]

[ratretro]

Under The Light Of The Full Moon - NaLu FanFiction

Title: Under The Light Of The Full Moon

Pairing: NaLu

Prompt: NaLu Week Day 6 - Sensation

Rating: T;

None of these characters are owned by me, they are all owned by the wonderful Hiro Mashima!

A/N:

Honestly im just using this as an excuse to write werewolf lucy because goddamnit ive wanted to for an eternity also I forgot I wrote this so here y’all go im hella late to the party lmao

FF.net

The air was thick with the scent of dragon, and against Lucy's better judgement, she decided to follow it to the end of its trail. Tonight, she was at the peak of her strength, and every sense was on fire as she followed her curiosity. Dragons were secretive creatures, and very rarely caught doing who-knows-what in the forest. Personally, she'd never met one. She only knew the scent from descriptions her favorite pack member gave her. For all she knew it may not even be a dragon she was hunting.

Well, if it wasn't a dragon she could worry about that later. Instead, she followed the enticing scent of smoky firewood, and an underlying sweet smell she couldn't quite place. If she could, Lucy would be humming right now as she vibrated with excitement. This was the perfect time after all. With the full moon hung high in the sky; vibrant and clear with no signs of clouds. As a werewolf, she was in peak performance which meant if needed she could make her escape without fear. She was intelligent and quick, only second to her packmate, Jet.

A clearing appeared up ahead on the very edge of her territory. If she tread too far it could incite a large-scale war, and she wasn't about to be the cause of another dispute. Her father was the pack leader after all, and that meant she had to be the perfect lady. What a load of bullshit. What was the point of having wolf blood if you couldn't truly be free?

The bushes rustled as she pushed through them to enter the opening where the large creature no doubt was hiding. She shook her entire body to get the leaves from her fur, and as soon as she was absolutely certain they were gone, she gave an aggravated huff. It was then that she lifted her head to look at what she considered to be her prey since she'd been stalking it for 30 minutes now.

Surprised. That was the emotion Lucy Heartfilia felt as she looked upon what could not possibly be a dragon. His hair was a shade of pink she'd only ever seen when passing the flower shop next to her favorite bookstore. His skin was sun-kissed even in the shade of silver that came from the pearl in the sky above her. Truly the scene was breathtaking, and yet the scent that radiated from his body was the same one she'd followed all the way here.

Now, it could be that he was a drake. She'd heard stories from the elder pack members of dragons who'd taken human mates, and given birth to half-breeds. How did that work? She had absolutely no idea. Who was she to question another species' mating rituals anyway?

Perhaps, he was a half-breed. He did hold attributes similar to a dragon. Sharp, curved black horns protruding from his skull, bright red scales moving across his cheeks and up to his temples, the claws where hands should be. Everything screamed dragon, except, that he wasn't a giant lizard like she had expected. Perhaps, she should be grateful she hadn't run into the fully formed dragon that her packmates had been so scared of.

"What are ya doin' here?" it was a simple question, soft and barely heard above the gust of wind that tore through the clearing. Of course, Natsu wasn't expecting an answer from a wolf. He'd never attracted wildlife before so he would consider this one to be rare. He took a moment longer to stare the creature down in hopes it would run off, and leave him to his own thoughts.

Although, a deeply buried part of him yearned for the company, and hoped the female wolf would stay. She was gorgeous after all. Her fur was long and seemed to be painted by the starlight above as tones of blue and silver drenched her smooth coat.

Though, it was the eyes that pulled him in. Dark chocolate. Normally, wolves of the color white had eyes in shades of blue, yellow, and even on occasion brown and blue at the same time. She had solid brown. It was unique, and he found himself smiling before raking his claws through his hair.

"Ya know, I'm kinda glad you're here. I didn't really want to be alone tonight." Lucy couldn't respond to him, but he seemed to recognize and accept that. He seemed deep in some kind of thought. Obviously, a sad one. She hoped her presence would help him in some way, besides she didn't want to hunt or run around just to get dirty and have to scrub the mud off her skin in the morning.

It was a slow, graceful trot as she met him in the center of the clearing, and sat beside him to share his company. Maybe he'd even speak more, she liked the sound of his voice. It had a soothing calm to it even if it was rough around the edges.

Natsu let himself fall to the grass with an aggravated sigh as he looked for the words to say. He was talking to a woodland creature who couldn't even talk back, in the middle of the night no less. To say he felt a little crazy would be an understatement. Hey, maybe he needed this. Maybe he needed to let out his emotions. Even if it was only to a lone wolf in the middle of the forest.

He was startled as the creature curled into his side and laid her head on his chest. There was some blinking, a crinkle where eyebrows would normally be, and then an annoyed huff. Was she telling him to continue? He supposed it wouldn't hurt to do so.

"I don't want to be king, ya know?" King was much higher than Pack Leader, but she could understand the sentiment.

"I love Igneel, and being his son is great. But I love the wind through my wings, and fighting with the younger members, visiting the towns as I please. Ya can't do that as a king. Ya gotta be responsible." She longed for the freedom he spoke of. They were different in that regard. He had the freedom she sought. To have that ripped away would certainly make her aggravated as well. She gave a small whine to try and signal her agreement, and sympathy. Not being able to speak made this troublesome.

"Trying to make me feel better?" it sounded to him like she'd understood his plight in some way. He was glad for that much.

"Thank you." Soft, but serious. He meant it, and even if the wolf didn't understand him he appreciated her willingness to listen to him. A noise went off in the distance: a howl. It was obviously the call of a wolf. Maybe one from her pack. White ears twitched, and then a small noise from her. It sounded like a ‘no' if he'd ever heard one.

The next howl was louder, and when she finally picked up her head, all she did was bark. Like a kid saying ‘I'm coming!' when their parent calls. The wolf eased up from her position and stretched; first backward and then forward.

"Will ya visit again?" Lucy's head tilted at the idea. She'd seen a dragon, thus her curiosity was quenched, but she hadn't thought about seeing him again. Her head tilted to one side, and then the other. Yes, she decided. She'd come again the next full moon.

The dragon sat up slowly, and as soon as his cheek was high enough she gave a soft nuzzle before turning and disappearing into the night. If she didn't get to the hideout soon her father would give her an earful. That much was certain.

Natsu, however, remained in the clearing till sun up, claw resting upon his cheek, and a soft smile on his lips.

---------------------

Lucy was practically vibrating with excitement even as her packmate Levy stared at her from behind a book.

"Lu? Are you okay? You normally hate the full moon." A correct statement. The blonde nodded in agreement, but still, the feeling did not fade. She'd see him again tonight, surely he'd be in the clearing. She was betting on it, and Lucy was not one to lose a bet. They didn't call her ‘Lucky' Lucy Heartfilia for nothing after all.

Currently, she had her chin resting on her hands as she took in the strong smell of roasted coffee beans and whipped cream. Both of these, however, was second to an old book. The wonderful thing about this shop wasn't the café, although it's a nice bonus, it was really the fact that it was attached to a used bookstore.

Levy had already chosen a classic from the fiction section depicting a war between werewolves and vampires, where Lucy had opted for a more classic romance set in a world of wizards bonded together by loyalty and friendship in a place where they'd built a new family. She was excited to start and finish the book in the next few days.

"I do. Tonight is different though. It's special." The blonde was certain Levy would understand. Levy was the one who'd told her about how dragons smell. Though she'd thought there might be some fibbed details but she wouldn't question her on that.

"Oh. Meeting a boy are we?" she flinched which was all Levy needed. The blunette smirked.

"Hmm-hm. Who's this mystery man?" Levy was personally excited to see her friend intrigued by a male. She'd always talk about boyfriends but never seemed to have an interest in anyone.

"It's just… a man I met in the woods on my last run." The blonde averted her eyes from Levy's and waited for her friend to stop gawking.

"You just. Met a man? In the woods? As a wolf?" Levy recognized that Lucy had already explained that, but damnit she wanted elaboration.

"Between you and me, I followed the scent of a dragon like you said. And I found one!" her grin went from ear-to-ear. Levy swallowed, but her mouth was as dry as cotton. Her best friend had found a dragon in the woods, and subsequently gained interest in said dragon. There was no way Levy had heard right.

"A dragon. In the woods." She repeated, but as a statement instead of a question as if willing her friend to continue.

"Yes. His scales were bright red, and he smelled of smoke. But the kind you bbq meat in, not a forest fire." Lucy finally gave Levy the information she needed to understand what had happened.

"You met the Fire Dragon King's son?" Levy was dumbfounded by her friend's unique ability to fall into troublesome situations.

"He mentioned something like that. How'd you know?"

"I'm dating the Iron Dragon King's son, Gajeel. It was easy to draw the conclusion." Lucy buzzed at the information. She'd known Levy was dating someone but didn't know who until now.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me that!" was all the blonde could manage.

"You know how our pack is Lu. You know interspecies isn't allowed." A rule decided by her father when he first took over as leader. Lucy made a pfft noise and shook her hand in the air.

"We all know that's a rule for me, and no one else. He's just disguising it to keep pack control." While the blunette agreed with Lucy she wasn't going to test that theory.

"Regardless, I'm glad for you. You always hated the full moon until now."

"It's not the full moon I hate. It's the forced transformation." She corrected. Lucy loved the stars more than anything, and each forced transformation was spent staring into the sky. Until now.

"I know that. I'm just surprised. Dragons have keen noses, he should've been able to smell the magic on you. That's how Gajeel found out what I was." Speaking on keen noses. Werewolves definitely didn't match up to dragons, but they still had a hell of a sense of smell. And right now, all Lucy could smell was smoke.

She froze on the spot as a familiar voice chatted outside the window with a large man covered in piercings. Pink, but this wasn't from the flower shop next door. Her breath hitched in her throat, and with a small whimper, she faced away from the pinkette. Their eyes hadn't met, and she was fairly certain he didn't know she was there. It needed to stay that way.

"What are you doing?" Levy's voice broke through her inner monologue with a chiding tone.

"That's him." She whispered. Surely, they could still hear the conversation so Lucy held up a hand, and shook her head before Levy could manage her next question.

"All right. But you better have an explanation in the morning." The blunette was awarded a mock salute from her incredibly nervous blonde friend.

"Wait, are you leaving already?" the question startled Lucy, but she nodded in response.

"Yes, I wanted to get ready for the change. I know it's still early, but…" Levy understood completely. While most of the pack had a seamless transformation, herself included, Lucy did not. Many believed that it was because of her human mother's blood that she had what was regarded as the most painful transition. It was why she never willingly shifted forms.

"I'll see you in the morning, Lu." A small wave from the blunette was Lucy's signal that she was good to head out. With the doors of the café opened all she could hear was what sounded like the end of a conversation that had left the fire drake irritated. Maybe that was usual for him? She didn't know, but a part of her wanted to find out.

"Are you okay?" the words slipped out before she'd even realized it. Her mouth, and her brain, were clearly working against her.

"Huh? Who are you?" gruff. Not at all like the voice from the clearing. Put in perspective she could see where she went wrong. She'd approached an irritated drake and then tried to question him as though she was his friend. She held up her hands in a surrendering fashion which calmed his features ever so slightly.

Features that she found insanely different. He was definitely able to pass as a human if you ignored the fangs. His claws, the scales that adorned his face, and the horns that curved from his temples were all gone. She nearly frowned but caught herself quickly. She missed the man from the clearing, she realized.

"Sorry." His voice was closer to the tone she'd remembered.

"For? It was my fault. I shouldn't have intruded on a personal issue."

"No. I shouldn't have been rude about it." His tone hadn't really bothered her, but this conversation had already gone on too long. Any longer, and he might realize who she was.

"Don't worry about it. Whatever it is, I hope it gets better." She turned with a wave, leaving him to watch her go. And he did. She'd smelled familiar, like the scent of pine, and vanilla. Which he hadn't recalled smelling before, but still his senses were screaming as though he knew her. Which was impossible. There's no way he could. He would've known if he'd met a girl like her.

Still, she smelled of magic which meant she was, at the very least, not human. Never the less, he didn't want to worry about that. His only worry was the wolf. He hadn't seen her in nearly a month, and with fur as white as snow she couldn't possibly be able to camouflage in the dense greenery that surrounded Magnolia. Though, he bet she thrived in the winter. He worried that she had possibly been killed by a hunter. Those were common after all. Especially with the possibility of the wolf being a werewolf. The only difference between a were, and its counterpart was size.

This was especially true with wolves. Werewolves are abnormally large, and barely look anything like a natural-born wolf. Come to think of it, the wolf in the woods that night was rather large. At least larger than normal, but most of the ones he'd seen were much bigger. Though, she could have been a runt.

If she was a runt that was even worse. His anxiety skyrocketed as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He needed to move. He gave a grunt and trudged back toward the nest. He'd just check again tonight. Like he did every night.

----------------

Lucy's hands dug into the hard concrete of the dungeon she was currently locked in. It had to be this way after all. She didn't want to ruin her home like she had the first time she'd transformed. That had been an experience she didn't want to relive a second time. Below her, the solid foundation of the building began to crack, and a yowl ripped from her throat. It sounded like a mix between human agony and raging wolf.

It was several minutes of her bones cracking to break down her human form into something dangerous, and far more primal. When it was finally over, and her senses began to return to normal, she cautiously moved her limbs. Hind legs, front paws, neck, jaw. It was all in working order, and the blonde almost wanted to spend the rest of her evening laying on the cold concrete that had already begun to soothe her sore body.

However, she forced herself to her paws and began to bounce up and down to test the boundaries of her body. She wouldn't be running any time soon, but if she kept hidden it wouldn't be too risky to keep a slow trot to the clearing where she hoped he'd be waiting. Who knew at this point.

He could have stopped going by now. She also could have visited, but shifting took a lot out of her, and she normally spent a few days recovering in bed after. Pack work had to be done, but she also had a job at the library downtown.

A doctor's note easily allowed her to get the few days after the full moon off each month, but anything after that would be testing her luck. While she was ‘Lucky' Lucy Heartfilia she'd rather not test how far that went.

Claws raked on the metal door, causing a rather annoying screeching noise on the iron as it protested to the unfair treatment. Creeeeeeak. The door moved open at a steady, slow rate to reveal Michelle. Her cousin was also a hybrid like herself, but the human genes had won out in the end, and she'd yet to show any signs of being a werewolf. Although, from what Lucy had seen, Michelle had no problems with it.

Michelle bent down to a crouch to rub Lucy between the ears and make soft cooing noises. She was giggling with joy at the motion, and Lucy didn't put up a fight. Not that she wanted to, she quite liked the feel of hands in her fur and she even gave a low rumble of appreciation.

"Well, get along now. He won't be happy if you stay here for too long." Her voice echoed in Lucy's mind, and the wolf gave an angry snort before dipping her head and making her exit. Michelle wasn't wrong (which only infuriated Lucy more), but she was hoping that someday her father would lighten up a bit, and allow himself the opportunity to move past her mother's death. She knew for a fact that her mom wouldn't have wanted to see him become this… monster.

The grass was scratchy beneath her paws and even grazed her underbelly. She had to keep low to the ground that way she wouldn't draw attention, though it was easier said than done. She may be a runt, but she had the physique to match her werewolf genes, plus she was bigger than the average mutt.

She wasn't concerned, though she should be, considering this was her turf and she knew these woods like the back of her paw. Though, there was a small problem: the section without shrub to hide in. This was one she had to pass through to make it to the clearing that he would theoretically be waiting in. She hadn't been paying attention the first time she'd traveled to him, but now in her weakened state, she had to be careful.

The first time they'd met she'd already had time to brush off the transformation aches but having left immediately after she was still sore. Sure, she could escape if she needed to, but honestly, she didn't want to. If at all possible. Her ears twitched as a rustling came from her right. Hunters. She cursed internally because of course there would be hunters. Why the hell not. Every lean muscle in her body tensed as she pressed as far as she could into the ground.

This was dangerous, and she needed to be careful.

--------------------

Again. He waited under the cover of night. His form warped by the darkness to the point that if you looked he would appear to be a human by any other standard. His chin rest in his palm and his brows were scrunched in irritation. He'd waited for the wolf to grace him with her presence again, but it was day 30 and there was no sign of pale white fur. Feet tapped anxiously as he stared into the bark of the tree in front of him. His eyes glazed over as his mind wandered leaving his body an empty shell.

He would have stayed in that mindless trance had he not been snapped out of it. Bang! The metallic scent of blood crashed his senses making him think distinctly of pennies. That was neither here nor there. His mind switched immediately to defense as the crashing sound of footsteps echoed around him.

Branches breaking, leaves crunching, the collision of bodies. Whatever was bleeding was frantic, and whatever was chasing it had a partner. A partner it couldn't stop running into. Boy, was their teamwork bad.

He stood still as he waited to see exactly what was causing this kind of commotion in HIS woods. A flash of white caught his eye which caused a flutter of panic in his chest. That was impossible. Another shot fired, and the sound of a yelp! had him ready to run to the rescue.

She crashed to the ground, her breath labored, and a soft whimper leaving her body. They'd gotten her good, and if she managed to live her father would not be pleased. She urged her body to move, and somehow it complied. The calm didn't last as the sound of a small branch snapped beneath a heavy boot. A noise rose above the rest: growling. She wondered when exactly she'd began growling and it took her a moment to realize that she hadn't. That's when she realized exactly where she was. The Clearing.

Which meant to her left was the one person she'd never been happier to see. He'd waited for her. With the hunters distracted she leapt into the clearing and booked it to his side. She ignored screams of protest and the sound of cocking guns. She just needed to reach him. She slid to a stop behind him, her breath leaving her body in heavy spurts. Warmth spread through her entire body as his hand laid upon her head. It was urging her to rest. It was like he was saying, ‘Leave it to me.' And she did.

He never thought he'd be so MAD. Her beautiful fur was matted with blood from an injury on her backside, and her body shook with exhaustion. Wings extended from his back, and the original growl turned into a loud snarl which evolved until a roar was echoing for miles.

"Leave." He bellowed his command into the air. He was every bit Igneel's son, and damnit he was the Fire Dragon King's heir. They'd leave if they wanted to live. Guns clattered to the ground and with wild scrambling, the hunting pair took their abrupt departure. He huffed, blowing out a puff of smoke. These were his woods, his territory, and he'd be damn if someone attacked a friend in his presence.

Her body quivered next to his, and when he crouched down to check on her she shoved her muzzle against his face and rubbed furiously.

"Hey! Cut that out!" she didn't take him seriously as she watched him light up with laughter, and his mouth contorted into the same grin she'd seen the first time they'd met. She'd been worried. The expression he'd made when he'd ran off the hunters had made him look like a demon. It was someone she'd never seen, but also someone she knew he'd be unhappy to become. He'd looked like a king protecting his people.

Her whiskers tickled his cheek as she nuzzled him. She must've felt scared, which wasn't surprising all things considered. Then, he caught it. A soft scent just past the smell of pennies: Vanilla. His eyes widened, his mind flitting to her. The blonde who'd been a stranger. The one who checked to see if he was okay after his fight with Gajeel.

"You…?" he whispered. A howl sounded off in the night, the call to beckon her home. Just like before. A nod and the wolf was gone. A roar sounded off in the distance, his own call home, and he knew he'd have explaining to do.

--------------------

She stood, slowly, from her chair at the library. She'd been adamant about returning to her job even through her father's distress. It seemed like his only daughter almost dying had lit some kind of fire in him. He'd been more caring, and dare she think it, tender. Still, she wouldn't just sit, and wait for her wound to heal.

That'd be boring. Plus, she couldn't stop thinking about that night. The pink-haired man waiting under the moonlight, and how he'd saved her life. They wouldn't have killed her. No, they would have sold her.

She shuddered and gripped the book in her hand even tighter. Lately, she'd been having trouble controlling her strength so when it snapped in half she wasn't surprised. Even so, it would surely be docked from her pay.

"It seems weird for a librarian to be destroying a book. Aren't ya supposed to like those?" she recognized his voice easily. It was the same tone he used when they spoke in the woods the first night.

"You thought so too, huh?" she sighed, but set the destroyed book down on the cart beside her.

"Interested in anything?" she meant a book, obviously. The pinkette had something a little different in mind.

"You." He watched her body stop on a dime, and her cheeks exploded in the color red. A part of him wanted to chuckle and stroke her hair to calm her. The other part told him not to. Even if she was the wolf in the woods (he still wasn't sure) it wasn't likely she'd care for being treated like an animal.

"W-What do you mean?" her voice sputtered, but then evened out. Did he know? It was entirely possible, though she wasn't in the mindset to be playing this game. Fake it ‘till you make it. That was her motto.

"Nothing. I just saw ya from the window. We met a few days ago so I wanted to say ‘Hi'." It wasn't a lie, not entirely, but he wasn't prepared to try and out a werewolf even if it was an empty bookstore.

"Oh. Well then, hello, stranger." She teased, shelving another book into its rightful place. This was the tricky part, having to walk forward to the next section of literature without him noticing her wound.

"Stranger." He said it with a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, "What's your name?" if they exchanged names they would be acquaintances. Then, maybe the anger creeping into his chest might subside. She knew him and she'd heard his inner-most concerns. He'd saved her life. They were hardly strangers.

"Lucy. Lucy Heartfilia." She held out her hand to him, a soft gesture, hoping he'd take it. Then, perhaps they could be more than just the wolf and the dragon who met under the light of the full moon.

"My name is Natsu Dragneel." There. Acquaintances. Next step: friends. "Can I help?"

She considered his offer, maybe if he was elsewhere in the store she could maneuver with ease. Or at the very least she'd be able to keep her secret.

"Yes. That would be great." She smiled, soft and sweet. "The system is alphabetical." It was nothing special like the Dewey Decimal system.

"Got it." He grabbed a few hardcovers and stared at their titles before wandering off. She'd heard him whisper the letter ‘P' and that was at least two rows over. Now, she just needed to place the book she currently held in her hand. ‘Starlight', it was a children's book that her mother had read to her when she was a child. It detailed the story of a young girl with the power to control call upon the stars. It was her favorite. It was also, unfortunately, on the top shelf.

She grimaced but still pushed to the tip of her toes to push the book into its rightful place. The wound where the bullet had lodged deep into her hip was screaming in agony. She should have had him put it up. He was tall, probably? Her mind pictured him as she confirmed his height. She hadn't really been paying attention to his physical features due to her internal panic.

Move on, her mind urged. She agreed and switched to the next title. ‘Roses Be Damned'. This was supposed to be some classic, cheesy romcom and she couldn't wait to purchase it and let it consume her life for the next month. If it was good anyway. It was here, that Lucy made her mistake.

She shifted to the right accidentally bumping right into the heavy cart full of books. She let out a scream of pain as she toppled to the ground, holding her hip tightly as though that would help. As if the tighter she squeezed the less pain she would feel.

Natsu, two rows over, stared at the book in his hand. It was an informational guide on Werewolves. Now, while werewolves had outed themselves – for the most part – that didn't mean all of the packs had. It was more a pre-emptive strike than anything else. He should probably buy this book. He was making his way around the corner when the scream and clatter of books had him rushing.

There she was, lying sprawled across the floor with small whimpers leaving her lips. He cursed. He'd gotten complacent. Of course, there's no way she would have healed by now. Werewolves and Dragons were fundamentally different after all. While he wouldn't be slowed down by a bullet, she wasn't built as sturdy.

"Are you all right?" his voice sounded like it was miles away as her mind seemed shrouded by the pain her body was experiencing. Fuck. Maybe she should have stayed home. This was shaping up to be a great day already.

"Nnn." Her grunt seemed to be an affirmative but she still hadn't moved from her spot on the floor so he decided to take it with a grain of salt.

"Why are you pretending?" her entire body froze from its position on the ground.

"What do you mean?" she feigned ignorance for a moment. She couldn't allow him to figure her out so easily, though it would just be easier to come clean.

"Actin' like you're okay, but clearly you're not." She'd been scared when he asked the question. He wasn't entirely sure why she would be. Either she was scared of him, or someone else. It had to be a someone, not a something. He hoped so anyway.

She stared into the carpet as though it was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen. It wasn't. Lucy couldn't just avoid him forever but maybe she could feign passing out and deal with it later. No, that was a bad idea too. She cursed under her breath and gathered all of her courage to face him.

"I'd say you're right. I was in a sticky situation and got injured a few days ago." He knew that already. He was there. He saved her. It had taken a bit of time to find her though, in fact, he probably wouldn't have without Gajeel's girlfriend to help him out. Apparently, the girls were in the same pack. Now, that was a plot twist.

"I know. I saved ya didn't I." there wasn't a question; it was another statement. Yep, he knew. Would he be mad? First, he shares his secrets with her in the woods under the guise that she was a regular woodland creature. And then, she hides her identity and pretends they never met. Lucy regretted her train of thought because of course, he'd be mad. She'd be mad too if he had done the same thing. Ah, but he hadn't done it. She had.

"I should start with an ‘I'm sorry.'" She mumbled. His heightened hearing caught her words whereas a normal human would have experienced some difficulty. That was not helping him understand why she was sorry. There wasn't really anything to be sorry about, right?

"Why are ya apologizin'?" Theoretically, there shouldn't be a reason to apologize. Not unless she'd run rampant and telling the story of the dragon who didn't want to be king. That sounded like a shitty romance-drama movie waiting to happen.

"Well, you confided in me, and I didn't bother to tell you that I wasn't human." she felt bad about it. Rationally speaking, how could she have told him anything. Speaking was NOT a skill that wolves had. Mostly, it was that she never went back to that clearing – as a human – to explain herself.

"Ya realize wolves don't talk right?" he wasn't quite sure what she was feeling so guilty about. He wasn't mad. He'd shared a secret with a wolf on the night of the full moon. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if it'd been a werewolf.

"Well, yes, but--" she sputtered to a stop as he interrupted her.

"No harm, no foul. I'm not mad about it. As long as ya didn't run around tellin' every damn person on the street about it, then who cares?" she cared. Obviously.

"It was still a betrayal of your trust! Let me make it up to you." she silently pleaded that he'd agree and just let her take him to lunch or something. The pinkette was uncomfortable. Again. His fingers raked through his hair, displacing the messy locks, and then he gave a groan of annoyance before nodding.

"Fine." he didn't elaborate, instead he placed his hands on his hips and waited. Lucy found herself drawn into his gaze. When they met she could've sworn they were the color of midnight, but in the day with the sun high in the sky, they were a dazzling green. To her, they equated to the vibrant journal decorated in white daisies that lived in her desk at home. It had reminded her of spring, and the same was true of his eyes.

"Hello?" he waved a hand in her face. She'd suddenly gone blank on him and while she could've been thinking of what to do to ‘make it up to him' – he got a distinct feeling that wasn't the case. He was caught in his own trance as well. She was definitely the wolf in the woods.

The second he looked into her eyes he knew. It was the same dark gold that he'd seen then, only this time the face staring back at him was a human's. The human was blonde, beautiful, and admittedly a little weird.

"What about lunch?" she blurted, as though she'd finally came back to reality.

"What about it?"

"Let me take you to lunch. To make it up to you." she elaborated for him, and honestly, he buzzed with excitement. He could eat any day, any time.

"Absolutely." no hesitation. Lucy's brow quirked in response.

"Well, then. Would now be a good time? I'm due for a break."

"I'm ready when you are." he held his hand out to her and she gladly took it. She'd need the support if she wanted to make it anywhere in the next millennia.

[spine-buster]

I Thought You Might Be Mine (Ricochet) - Part VIII

A/N: This is the last official chapter for this story!  There will only be ONE more little drabble (something cute) and that’s it.  Thank you to all who liked/reblogged.  It was never meant to be long but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.  Iris is now in my OC canon!  

I guess at this point I should announce that the next story I’ll be working on is an Adam Cole one.  Like always, it’ll be outside kayfabe (real names).  It’s still a work in progress but the character you meet in this chapter, Cecilia, is the OC for it.  

August 18, 2018 Brooklyn, New York

Iris was trying to keep a low profile backstage at NXT Takeover Brooklyn IV.  It was a big night for Trevor and she didn’t want anything she was or wasn’t doing to overshadow that.  That she was in even in Brookyln, traveling with the entire roster and crew, was something new – usually she stayed in Orlando.  But she had to make an exception for Brooklyn.  

Trevor had refused to tell her what the outcome of the match would be tonight, making her a bit on edge.  She knew it was going to be a big match; one that would take everyone’s breath away (Trevor’s matches almost always did); one that would end up being the highlight of the card.  She didn’t want to brag that her boyfriend was the highlight of the show, but it definitely seemed that way whenever a Takeover came rolling through.

Her boyfriend.  

It had only been around four months since she broke up with Ryder Fleming.  Four months since that fateful night in her old apartment where she gave back her ring, gathered her belongings, and left for Trevor’s house instead.  Four months since having one last encounter with Ryder, deciding whose stuff belonged to whom, before finally saying their bitter, sad goodbyes.  She hadn’t heard from him since.  She knew he was living in Manhattan still, for his job, but that was it.  For all she knew, she could bump into him tonight.  It was weird, being with someone for five years, loving them, being engaged to them, then suddenly having an epiphany and realizing you wanted to be with someone else.  All the memories fading from memory quicker than normal.  

She only hoped that one day he would find happiness.  Like she did.

Iris was wildly happy.  Like, wildly happy.  She didn’t know and couldn’t understand how she could have been so stupid for the last five years.  All that time could have been spent with Trevor.  All that time could have been spent building a life together instead of watching each other attempt to build lives with other people.  

After she had broken up with Ryder, Iris was hesitant about everything.  After the Tessa incident rocked her to her core, she wasn’t exactly going to grab a megaphone and announce she and Trevor were finally together.  At first, she refused to move in with him until “everything died down”, whatever that meant.  She told him that the only people who had a right to know they were together were their parents, and most importantly Cameron, which Trevor agreed with one hundred percent.  But then, it just so happened that Iris began spending more and more time at Trevor’s house, and soon there were more…sleepovers, and eventually, they walked in to work together one morning and were too slow to separate their clasped hands, so Johnny Gargano, cutest-person-in-the-world Johnny Gargano saw them and commented, “God fucking damn, it’s about fucking time you two.”

And now, Iris found herself in Brooklyn.  Her stuff had been moved into Trevor’s house about four weeks ago.  She made regular appearances in Trevor’s Skype and Facetiming sessions with Cameron, who always said hi and was always excited to tell her about his day at school since she was a teacher too.  He already knew her from before but was more exited since Trevor told him she was now his girlfriend.  When Cameron asked her, “Are you going to come with my daddy to Paducah next time he comes?” her heart melted.

Trevor had long since gone to do his warm up and pre-match rituals, so she was wandering to find an area with some chairs and a TV screen so she could watch the match.  It wasn’t long until she stumbled upon Erica Greenwood, Kyle’s wife, who was sitting next to her new friend, Cecilia.  Cecilia was married to Austin, who Trevor was facing for the North American title in mere minutes.  Iris had met Austin in Tokyo countless times.  

“Mind if I join, ladies?” Iris asked timidly as she approached them from behind.  

Cecilia spun around with a giant smile on her face.  “Get over here!  We need to talk as our husbands kill each other,” she said, encouraging Iris to move a chair over.  “Austin tells me you and Trevor have finally moved in together.”

Iris giggled at Cecilia’s use of ‘finally’.  To any other couple, moving in together after less than four months would be seen as rushing things.  To Trevor and Iris, it was ‘finally’.  “Yup.  I moved into his place since it’s bigger.  Everything’s out of the boxes and blended with his stuff.  All the extra or doubles we’re donating.”

“Oh, good!  There’s a place that caters to new immigrants to Orlando only a mile away from here.  You two should totally bring your stuff there,” Erica suggested.

“We definitely will,” Iris nodded her head.  “There’s a lot to donate, especially plates, and pots and pans.  All my stuff is staying – the quality of his were shit,” Iris giggled.

“Trevor doesn’t cook?” Cecilia asked.

“He does, but he doesn’t care about the equipment.  He’ll just throw stuff away and buy another cheap pan instead of investing in a good one.”

Erica and Cecilia both shook their heads.  “Men,” Erica grumbled.  “Kyle’s the opposite.  I actually had to talk him out of buying the most expensive frying pan at Crate and Barrel.”

“Well you hold on to him and never let go,” Iris gripped her arm playfully, causing her to giggle.  “Because I dream of the day that Trevor spends more than forty dollars on a kitchen staple.”

When Austin and Trevor’s music played, the ladies silenced themselves to watch the action.  Iris and Cecilia threw clever and playful jabs at each other throughout the match until things got more intense.  At the lionsault-into-a-superkick spot, both shrieked at the impact.  Iris for sure thought that Trevor had broken his neck – neither were sure if it was a botch until the slow-motion replay.  Then, when Trevor hurricurannaed Austin onto the floor, both women gritted their teeth until it was clear her was okay.  Suffice to say that neither Trevor nor Austin told them about the spots they were going to do.  It was definitely one hell of a match, and both women were eager to see their men by the end of it.  

When Trevor pinned Austin and won the championship, a few tears escaped Iris’s eyes.  She tried to wipe them away quickly so Erica and Cecilia wouldn’t see, but there was no chance – Cecilia was already wrapped her arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.  “Congratulations,” she whispered.  “He deserved it.  Austin’s so happy for him.”

“He’s worked so hard,” Iris nodded her head, wiping the tears away quickly.  “He’s over the moon, I can tell.  God, why’d he have to take those bumps though?”

Cecilia laughed out loud.  “Let’s go ask them, shall we?”

As the two women left and made their way closer to Gorilla, there was a crowd forming to greet Austin and Trevor.  As Austin came through first, he received a round of applause from everyone, garnering back pats and handshakes, even some more intimate forehead-to-forehead moments from some.  Trevor made his way through right after, garnering more applause, handshakes, and back pats.  As Iris watched him, she saw him taking in the adulation, but also looking around.  She knew he was looking for her.  She stood on her tippy-toes to wave at him, and when she caught his eye, she saw him visibly relax.  

A trainer pulled him aside, and Iris watched as they mumbled something to each other before the trainer patted him on the back and led him in the opposite direction of where she was standing.  She furrowed her brows.  

“They’re just checking on his shoulder, Iris,” she heard Austin’s voice from behind her.  She spun around to see him wiping his face with a towel.  “You know how his shoulder is.  They’re just taking a precaution.  He said it was completely fine during the match but they want to be safe.”

Iris nodded her head.  “Thanks, Austin.”

Suddenly, Cecilia slapped her husband’s chest.  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d do that superkick to Trevor’s neck after the lionsault?!” she demanded of him.  “We thought you broke his God damn neck, Austin!”

“Baby, I wanted everything to be a surprise!” he defended himself.  

“A little hunt would have helped!” she continued.  “Uh, hey, babe, we’re gonna do this spot, but don’t worry – evrything’s gonna be okay.  We practiced it.  Like, that’s all it would have taken, Austin.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” he reiterated.  “We hardly told anyone we were working on it in the first place!  If you knew, then you would have told Kyle, then Kyle would have told Bobby and Roddy, and soon the whole locker room would have known!”

“Are you calling me a big mouth?”

Iris snorted.  God, they were such a married couple.  She wondered if she and Trevor sounded like this.  “What about that hurricurrana?” she goaded on.  

“Yeah!  That too!” Cecilia started up again.

“Baby, please --”

“Alright, you two.  I’m gonna go find my boyfriend,” Iris giggled, waving them off.  “Get into a locked room before you guys celebrate the match,” she winked. 

“Tel Trev I’m gonna be looking for him after,” Austin said as Iris turned to go.  

“Will do.  See you later.”

Iris knew exactly where she needed to go in order to see Trevor after his match against Austin, but she wanted to give him enough time to get checked and properly assessed before she made it her business to go into the trainer’s room.  Even just watching on the monitor, she could see the welt that had formed on his neck after that amazing yet brutal moonsault-into-a-superkick spot.  

The problem was that Iris was impatient by nature.  She tried to take her time getting to the trainer’s room to no avail.  She watched through peeks as the door opened and closed, trainers rushing in and out, as they put an icepack on his neck and taped it there.

When everything was clear and she was allowed in, the trainers got the hint to leave the room to let them have their time.  She stood in front of Trevor as he still clung on to the North American championship, his knuckles white for how tight his grip was.  It was sitting around his waist, but he hadn’t made the attempt to buckle it in the back.  

“What do you think?” he huffed, still catching his breath.  

“It looks good on you,” Iris smiled, her hand reaching out to touch the belt.  “You were incredible out there.”

Trevor smiled at her words, knowing how much she meant them.  She had watched him countless times – even looked his matches up on the internet when she couldn’t see him in person – so he knew she had seen his good matches and his not-so-good matches.  To have her here, in Brooklyn, meant the world to him.

He grabbed her hand and held it in his, squeezing it against his abs for a moment before bringing it up to his lips to kiss it.  “Took us long enough, huh?  To be here.  Together,” he said quietly, resting their hands on his heaving chest. 

“Yeah.  We’re a long ways away from the Best of the Super Juniors 2014,” she said, referencing the first time they met.  “You’re bald now.”

Trevor snorted.  “I think more important things have changed besides my hair, or lack of it,” he said.  “We’ve been through a lot since then, haven’t we?”

Iris didn’t want to think about it.  She didn’t want to think about the last four years and all the mistakes they made along the way.  Mistakes that got them to this point, sure, but mistakes nonetheless.  “We have.  But we’re here now.   That’s all that matters, right?” she asked, using his words.

“That’s all that matters,” he agreed.  “That’s all that’s ever gonna matter, baby.  You and me.”

He leaned in to kiss her, cherishing the feeling of his lips on hers.  He fiercely believed he would never tire of it.  After waiting so long, after being a dumbass, after making so many mistakes, he was finally where he wanted to be.  Where he needed to be.

With Iris.

His thumb and index finger caressed her ring finger.  He looked her in the eyes for a few moments as he continued to rub it.  “My ring’s gonna be on that finger one day.”

“Trevor.”

“I mean it.  I’m not saying it’s gonna happen tomorrow or next month or something, but one day the most beautiful ring you’ll ever see is gonna be on that finger, and it’s gonna be me that gave it to you,” he said.

Iris thought about the implications of what he was saying.  She knew he was the only one for her.  She knew she wanted to marry him one day.  Did they have to wait?  Should they wait?  Or should they just get the inevitable over and done with?

Honestly, she’d be happy with either.  Because at the end of the day, she was finally, truly, wildly, wildly happy.  

@wrestlewriting @wrasslin-x @thegenericluchadora @thewriterformerlytaggedas@fan-fiction-galore @anerdysouthernbelle @spot-of-bother @amaranthine-reign@baleesi @flnnbalor @smuppies @sarahmatthews7 @daintymissdevitt@newjapan @corey-renee @running-ropes @balorsomega @karleedaniels27@kazuchika @ileana0300 @alexahood21 @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne@fembxt @heelturn-timesten @kaitlynwwefan @50shadesofadamcolebaybay@50shadesofkennyomega @chasingeverybreakingwave @thyestean-feast @thecandicej @devittsbalor @sp00kylesley @danahart @sietefinns@kaydee-kayyyy @powerbombshell @swedish-strong-style @blondekel77@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @nickysmum1909 @houndofjustice-imagines @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @wweximaginesxd @indywrestlinglover-life @mandi512 @kakakatey @ourscratcheddreams @sleeplessandcynical @badame124 @thevixeniris @fabulousrockstar @lunatic-sambrose @caramara3 @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans @krobinj @heygargano @sxrxndipityy 

[heebiejbies]

Limerence - Chapter IV

Limerence Masterlist

Characters: Sehun and OC (Ursula)

Warnings: This series contains mentions of assault, sexual violence, and stalking.

Word Count: 3.2k

Note: To clarify something before this chapter starts, seeing as it may be confusing, when something is in italics it is that person’s inner thoughts. More specifically, something they are saying to themselves. In Sehun’s case, when something is in italics and enclosed in ‘ ’, that is the different sides of his mind talking. Think of it as his conscience arguing with the side of himself that is growing more obsessive as time goes on, if that makes any sense heh.

Limerence:  The state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings.

I woke up the next morning feeling more rested than I had in days. I ran my hand through my hair and pulled the covers off of me. Wait… Covers? That’s funny. I don’t remember covering up last night. I know I pulled my covers back, but I never actually covered up. I looked around my room to see if anything happened to be out of the ordinary. I noticed my closet door was now shut when I am almost 100% positive I left it cracked open last night. Maybe I am just misremembering things. I picked up my phone to look at the time, 8:02 am.

I went downstairs and turned the coffee maker on. I didn’t have to work, so my entire day was free. I didn’t have a whole lot planned, but I did plan on going shopping at the mall later on. I started working a lot more, so I decided I needed a day to spoil myself.

I made myself a cup of coffee and made my way outside and sat on the swing like every morning. I noticed Sehun and Delilah walking down the road, probably coming back from a walk around the block. I stood up on the porch and called out to him, “Well good morning to you early bird!”

He stopped and looked around, finally spotting me on my porch. His face lit up and he chuckled to himself, “It’s my morning ritual, Delilah and I have gone on morning walks every morning since I adopted her,” He said. I motioned for him to come up to the porch, “Come on, I miss Delilah,” I pouted. He cracked a smile and came to sit beside me.

“Good morning Delilah, we haven’t had quality time lately have we,” I said, petting her head. “She really likes you, you know,” He commented.

We sat there having small talk for a few minutes before he brought up my plans for the day, “So, what are your plans for your day off?”

“Actually I’m heading to the mall later today, I’m going to go spoil myself for once,” I laughed. I looked at him before getting an idea, “Hey, if you are off today would you like to come with me?”

He hesitated, “ I am off today, but I don’t want to intrude on your day off and your ‘me time’,” He said. “You won’t be intruding at all, I promise. I want you to come with me actually,” I admitted. “In that case, I would love to go with you.”

I told him to give me two hours to get woken up and get ready, and then we’d go out to eat breakfast. After I finished getting ready, I came downstairs to find that my mom had just gotten home. “Good morning! Where are you off to this morning?” She asked.

“Actually, Sehun and I are going to get breakfast, and then we are going to the mall,” I said, a grin spread across her face immediately after I said that. “Oh, another date so soon?”

“No, it’s not a date. Just two friends spending a day together.” She didn’t take long to respond,“So a date,” She shot back. I sighed in defeat, there was no way I would be able to win this argument with her. Trying to win any argument with her would be impossible.

“Hey, did you come home earlier and then leave again?” I asked. She shook her head at me, “No, why do you ask?” I told her about waking up and my covers being over me when I knew that I hadn’t covered up the night before. She told me I probably woke up at one point during the night and covered myself up, but I was still skeptical about it. I also mentioned my closet door being shut, but once again she seemed to find an excuse for that. “You probably closed it and can’t remember that you did.”

Sehun knocked on the door around 10:00, about thirty minutes early. My mom had gone to bed, so I let him in and motioned for him to be quiet. I grabbed my phone, purse, keys, and we headed out the door.

“So, where would you like to go eat breakfast?” I asked. “Oh, anywhere is fine with me,” He said. “Do you like pancakes?” He nodded his head, looking back out the passenger side window. There’s this really good pancake place that I used to eat at all of the time before I started enjoying my mornings at home a lot more. They serve some of the best pancakes ever, plus they have this blackberry syrup that is to die for.

We were seated at a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Sehun ordered chocolate chip pancakes, and for myself, I ordered red velvet pancakes. “Red velvet huh?” He laughed when the waitress brought our food. “Hey, they’re amazing okay. Don’t hate,” I pointing a fork at him. He held his hands up in response, “I apologize sincerely.”

I took Sehun’s fork and cut off a piece of pancake, “Open,” I demanded, holding it in front of his mouth. He laughed again, but played along and opened his mouth and took a bite. “You were right, that’s amazing,” His eyes showed a hint of amusement in them.

“You got a little uh,” I wiped at my mouth. He looked at me with confusion, so I reached out my hand and wiped the syrup off of the corner of his mouth with my thumb. Our eyes locked as I did so, an unknown feeling stirred up in my stomach. His brown eyes are absolutely gorgeous, why has it taken me so long to notice that they are this nice?

“You had some syrup on the corner of your mouth,” I finally said, retracting my hand. He stuck his tongue out and licked the part of his mouth where I had wiped, “Thanks.”

“So, you’re from South Korea?” I questioned.

“Yes, Suho and I both are.”

“Out of all the places in the country, why did you pick here?”

“I worked as a systems administrator in South Korea, a company near here called one day and offered me a job as their content manager. They offered nearly double my salary, it was something that I couldn’t pass up. Their headquarters is only about an hour drive from here, and I work from home most of the time so I didn’t need to be right in the city. Suho had an aunt that lived here when we were kids, I visited a few times and really enjoyed it. Both Suho and I were more comfortable with moving to a city that we have a basic knowledge of, rather than a completely random one. After that, everything just fell into place.”

“So, you sit in front of a computer screen most of the time?” I teased.

“You’re right,” He chuckled,” That is mostly what I do on a daily basis. Why do you ask?”

“Ah, just trying to learn more about you is all.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to. Maybe I want to stay as mysterious as I can,” He smirked, his eyebrows rose in amusement. “Hmm. I’m pretty good at digging up information if that’s the game you want to play,” I sat my cup of coffee down as I said this. “I hate to break it to you Ursula, but I’m very good at keeping things hid.” We stared at each other for a few seconds before a waitress cleared her throat. She put the check down, Sehun taking it before I could.

“Hey, give me that!” I tried to take it out of his hand, but he jerked it away. “No, I’ll pay,” He insisted, getting his wallet out. “I invited you out, I will pay,” I retorted. “Here’s a compromise, I’ll pay for breakfast and we can go out to eat dinner tonight and you can pay for that.”

I looked at him to see if he was being sarcastic or not, when I knew that he was serious I asked, “Is this your sneaky way of asking me out?” He leaned on his elbows and brought his face closer to mine, humming, “Maybe, maybe not. Are you saying yes?”

“Of course, you got yourself a deal,” I held out my hand for him to shake. We shook hands, sealing the deal.

“Is there any place, in particular, you want to go? I don’t want to drag you into a bunch of stores that you don’t want to go in,” I explained as we entered the mall. “If I see something that peaks my interest, I’ll tell you. So, where to first?”

“I think the first thing I need to do is pick up perfume.” Sehun seemed a little surprised when I led him into Victoria’s Secret. “I would have never guessed,” He said. “Well, there’s a lot of stuff about me that you wouldn’t guess,” I laughed. I looked around for my perfume but before I could find it Sehun came to me and handed a box to me that contained it.

“How’d you know?” I asked. “Well, I can smell it on you sometimes, and I picked this up and knew it was the scent,” He explained. I looked at him and thanked him, then I went up to the counter to pay.

“Is that all for you today?” The cashier asked. I said yes, and proceeded to dig my debit card out from my wallet. “Ursula?” I looked up and saw an old classmate of mine from school—Jae. “Oh, hi Jae,” I said, not caring too much to hold a conversation.

“How have you been? Are you still interested in becoming a vet?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I see,” I sighed in my head at the fact that he wouldn’t just ring my things up and let me leave, “That’s interesting.” He took the box of perfume from the counter and rang it up. I slid my card and entered my code in. He then got a bag out and put the perfume in the bag, along with the receipt. “So I was wondering if you’re-”

“Hey, babe! Have you checked out already? I found your size!” I looked to my side and Sehun stood next to me, a lingerie set in hand. He put his arm around me, “Nice, isn’t it? I picked it out especially for you,” He said quietly, but loud enough for Jae to hear what he said. I took the set from his hands and put it up on the counter, “Sorry about that. He has a better eye for things than I do,” I giggled. Jae rung up the lingerie, putting it in the same bag. I went to slide my card again, but Sehun beat me to it. He slid his card, put his code in, and took the bag off of the counter.

“So, Ursula is this-” Once again Jae was cut off by Sehun, “I’m her boyfriend.” I look up at him in surprise but remembered the situation and continued playing along. Jae went to hand the receipt to me, but Sehun took it from his hand and put it in the bag. “I can’t wait to see you in what I picked out for you,” He whispered in my ear, again loudly enough for Jae to hear. I blushed at the sound of this. I knew he was joking, but it still made me embarrassed.

“Alright, well, it was nice seeing you again Ursula,” Jae said, an awkward tone in his voice. “Same to you,” I replied. Sehun grabbed my hand and pulled me close to him. We walked away, Sehun still holding my hand.

When we were out of sight from Victoria’s Secret, he let go of my hand and started apologizing, “I’m so sorry about that. I saw that you were tired of him talking to you and I had to step in,” He said. I looked in the bag, checking the size of the lingerie. “It’s okay. You actually grabbed my size. How’d you ever guess?” I bumped my shoulder against his. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “Ah, lucky guess?” I smirked at him, bringing my mouth near his ear. “Well, maybe I should pay you back for this and model it for you,” I teased and started walking away.

Sehun and I managed to kill a few hours walking around the mall and going in various stores. One thing that I learned about him is that he is very indecisive when it comes to clothes.

“I’m telling you, it’s your color!” I exclaimed. Sehun had on a dark purple blazer that looked amazing on him. However, he kept insisting that it looked bad on him. “I don’t know Ursula. I’ve never worn this color before.” I let him go back to the dressing room to change into another blazer. He handed me the dark purple one and a sneaky idea came to my mind. I went over to the cash register and purchased it for him before he came out of the dressing room in another blazer.

“What’s that?” He immediately asked as he stepped out of the dressing room. “Ooo. That one is nice too,” I complimented, ignoring his question. “Seriously Ursula, what is that?” His voice now becoming more hasty, not commenting on what I said to him. “Well, since you have to know so badly I guess I can tell you. Seeing as how you were being so stubborn, even though it looked amazing on you, I bought it for you,” I said, letting him see in the bag.

“Ursula you didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back,” He insisted, reaching into his pants for his wallet. “If you take out your wallet I will cut your hands off.” He stopped and took his hands out of his pants in response to my threat. “Just accept it as a gift. Friends do that,” I smiled at him. “Friends?” He asked, his gaze focusing on me.

“Yeah, we are friends. Are we not?”

“Yes. Of course, we are friends, Ursula,” He smiled at me before turning and looking at himself in the mirror.

-Sehun’s POV-

Today has been an amazing day. Ursula and I have spent the whole day together, and now we are out at dinner together. This really is like a date, the reality of the situation excites me beyond belief. I don’t think another person has ever made me this happy before.

When that guy at the mall today was talking to her, I don’t know what came over me. Seeing the way he looked at her I could tell that he wanted to ask her out, so I had to jump in and intervene. I would never let anyone near her that didn’t have the best of intentions. He was no good for her, and I could tell. ‘No one will ever be as good for her as you are. No one.’

“What are you thinking about?” I am shaken from my thoughts when Ursula asked me this. “Just about how beautiful you are,” I said. She seemed taken aback by my words. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to do that I promise!” I said. She shook her head at me, “It’s not that, I just haven’t heard that in a long time.” Her voice fell quiet as she said this.

I took her hand in mine across the table, “Well, you are beautiful. You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.” She looked at her hands and smiled to herself. She then looked up into my eyes and said, “Why are you so sweet to me?” I ran my thumb over the top of her hand. “You’re an amazing person, I’m just speaking my honest feelings. Has no one ever said things like this to you before?”

She took her hands out of my grasp and put them in her lap. “Well yes, once. However, none of the things he said made me feel the way that the things you say make me feel,” She admitted. “How do I make you feel?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I haven’t had someone’s words sway me like this before. It… Sort of scares me to be honest,” She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. I slid out from my side of the booth and sat beside her on the other side. I grabbed her hands in mine and made her look at me.

‘She is starting to trust you, this is a major thing and you must take it seriously. Choose your next words carefully, speak from your heart but make sure that you do not cross the line.’

“Being scared is a natural part of developing feelings for someone. I do not expect you to feel much for me yet, but believe me when I say that I care about you. I would never use your emotions against you,” I said. She nodded her head, “Thank you.” She laid her head against my shoulder, I could tell that the tension she felt before had eased up. Why do I have such a strong feeling of protection right now?

‘From now on you must protect Ursula. No one will ever hurt her. Not as long as you are around. You will make her happy, you. Not anyone else. You have to do this, even if it is the last thing you do.’

She excused herself to go to the bathroom, leaving her purse sitting in the booth. I looked to make sure she had entered the bathroom, then I opened her purse and pulled her phone out. Her phone didn’t have a lock code, so getting into it was easy. I opened up the app store and found the app that I was looking for. This app is used by parents so they can monitor everything their kids are doing on their phones, and the app itself is virtually invisible to the user. I connected her phone to mine, now I had complete access to her phone’s activity.

‘You are overstepping your boundaries, Sehun. This is wrong and you know it.’

‘Do you really believe that? What you are doing is protecting her and keeping an eye on her, you are not doing anything wrong.’

The voices in my head started to bicker over my actions, trying to convince me of what would be the right and wrong thing to do. I know that doing this is right, right? Or… Is it? I’m doing this for her own good, so it is right isn’t it? Before I could be convinced otherwise, I noticed Ursula exit the bathroom. I quickly put her phone back in her purse and closed it, as if nothing had happened.

Protecting her isn’t something that is wrong. It’s something I have to do because if I don’t then who will? I have to protect her at all costs, I know I do. Protecting her is my duty and I am sure of it now.