#like of course they’d have some difference in skin tones cause there’s drastic differences in sun exposure

[the-last-quest]

The sillies‼️‼️

[sugasimply]

𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝙴𝚙.𝟸 | 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙰𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚝

✦ Mafia!AU

✦ OT8 x Reader

✦ 21+ Series

✦ Warnings: Smut, cursing, creampie, wax play, very slight mention of drugs(pharmaceutical)

✦ Word Count: 4.1k

-----Filter by @/forsakenxtutorials-----

Your night with Hongjoong passed without a hitch. And when you woke up next, checking his side of the bed, he was gone.

You assumed a mission or meeting had come to pull him away while you were deep asleep. Seeing as a shipment of guns were stolen, you guessed he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

Tossing the blankets that covered your body, you groggily get up and do your usual morning stretches. The nights’ previous positions left your body aching for relief, especially, your poor neck.

Moving your neck caused quite a bit of uncomfortable pain, so deciding to get dressed and grab some good old painkillers was your best option. Today was a free day after all.

If Hongjoong was gone, the other boys were gone as well. That’s how it works with them usually, meaning you were completely alone to do anything you pleased.

Well...semi alone.

Although all the boys were gone, the guards stationed outside, and inside the house were not. This is still a mafias mansion after all. They’d be fools not to have or leave an extensive amount of security.

The only privacy you held was found in the bedrooms and bathrooms. At first, it was quite bothersome and prison-like to have people watch over your every move, but over time, you’ve gotten so used to it that you sometimes forget they’re there.

They are there to protect you and your lovers after all, so you can’t really complain.

Descending the staircase, you greet the guards stationed at the bottom with a small smile and hello. Today, they oddly did not greet you back like usual, only a curt nod and blushed cheeks were returned.

weird, you thought to yourself, making a beeline towards the kitchen- it was probably nothing, right?

Your mood drastically picked up at the thought of a nice quiet day alone to yourself. The boys weren’t always gone, and it’s not that you wanted them gone, but silence was a luxury in this house.

Swinging the kitchen door open, you start to hum a joyous tune, thinking of the relaxing day ahead and basking in the enjoyment of a boy fre-

…….

“Hey, Y/n,” Seonghwa greets casually from where he was seated by the kitchen counter before taking another bite of his cereal like he didn’t just shatter your whole entire day.

Dumbfounded, you stand at the entrance of the kitchen contemplating your plan to get away with murder. You could quietly strangle seonghwa or lure him to the woods and-

“Y/n?”

Snapping out of your premeditated murderous thoughts, you awkwardly walk over to the other side of the kitchen counter and look at Seonghwa confusingly.

“Umm Hwa, don’t get me wrong I like that you’re here, but why are you here?” you inquire, trying not to sound rude.

Seonghwa looks up at you with a confused expression as well, but he quickly realizes why you were asking that “Ah my services weren’t needed, so I decided to stay home all day with you,” he shrugs 

You stare at him enthralled, “maybe the woods wouldn’t be the worst option.”

“Huh, what about the woods?”

“Nothing!” you dismiss, going back to the original task you set before Seonghwa shattered all your hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Your boy free day would sadly have to wait till another time.

Living in a mafias house meant a shortage of painkillers was impossible. The boys were always bound to come back home with some sort of injury or bruise. The medicine cabinet was basically stocked with more medication and drugs than an actual drug pharmacy.

Pouring yourself a glass of water from the pitcher placed conveniently on the counter below the medicine cabinet, you grab the strongest painkillers from the cabinet and shake out the recommended dosage.

“What happened to your neck?” Seonghwa’s voice questioned behind you as you swallow down the painkillers.

“Your leader has a vampire kink,” you answer blatantly, turning to face Seonghwa with a straight face.

Seonghwa challenges you with the same straight face till he couldn’t take it anymore and cracks into a fit of laughter that fills the kitchen entirely.

“So he was that mad over what they said?” he ponders, wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes that had formed.

“Of course he was mad! His men were- wait you knew he was mad?”

Seonghwa nodded nonchalantly at your question.

“And you did nothing to calm him down?” you marveled

“We didn’t necessarily do nothing; we sent him to you!” Seonghwa admits with a proud smile.

……

“Would you like to take a walk in the woods hwa?” you suggested in a low voice, your right eye twitching ever so slightly.

“Huh?”Seonghwa blurted out, seemingly thinking about something else so deeply he didn’t hear you.

Signing heavily, you decide to let go of all murderous thoughts(for now). “Nothing just glad Joong didn’t tear down the whole house...again”

Dropping the conversation, you both went back to the normal routine. The painkillers would take some time to fully kick in, so you figured a breakfast smoothie was the least exhausting thing to make and it didn’t require chewing.

Seonghwa had long finished his cereal by the time various fruits scattered the chopping board, half already chopped by you, and the rest awaiting your fatal knife. Instead of leaving the kitchen, he opted to stay and watch you.

Intently watch you at that. Gazing up at him while cutting the strawberries, you could tell from his contorting facial expressions, he had something on his mind. “What’s on your mind hwa?” you question, getting down to the last few strawberries you had to chop.

He peered up to your calm gaze. He contemplated whether he should answer you, but ultimately he voiced his thoughts, “why aren't you mad at hongjoong? I mean he quite literally bit into you,” he remarked

Ah, another million-dollar question. See although the question was certainly unexpected- especially from Seonghwa who never asks about your sex life with the others- you knew exactly what your answer was, “I trust him.” The answer was simple, yet held a heavy meaning.

“I trust Hongjoong too, but I wouldn’t just let him bite me, let alone forgive him so quickly,” Seonghwa acclaimed, bewildered by your answer. He knew how Hongjoong can be rough with you, but a full skin-piercing bite? Even for Seonghwa, it seemed unsettling.

A small chuckle mustered out of you, “I mean a different type of trust dummy. Yes, I trust him the same way you trust him, but I also trust him sexually.”

“I’m not fully following,” he replied, scratching his head confusingly.

Exhaling loudly, you wipe the chopped strawberries off the knife and set it down on the chopping board to join Seonghwa in the chair right next to him. This is going to be a lot to explain, you say to yourself.

Your relationship with the boys was complex. explaining your sexual relationships with one another was practically like explaining directions to a maze with no exit, especially when trying to explain the kinks that others had.

Partially Seonghwa was the worst one to try and explain things too. Though it’s been a year since you’ve come into the family, he stayed cautious with you in bed. The boys all had their kinks and surely had no trouble showing them to you, Seonghwa...seonghwa was the opposite.

You weren’t even sure he had any kinks.

“What I’m trying to say is, when it comes to activities in the bedroom, I trust him with my body fully. I’m not mad at the bite because I knew he wasn’t biting out of anger against me. And even in his full rage mode, I know he’d never hurt me intentionally. That’s the trust we share with each other.”

“We explore each other. Set the bounds, set the rules, and we compromise on everything. He owns my body, and I own his. That’s how our relationship and trust in each other works,” you explain carefully.

“So, do you share that same trust with all of us?” Seonghwa ponders, tone slightly hushed. Inwardly you were slightly perplexed. You never really voiced out your trust with each member, well excluding Joong. You felt they could all silently feel it- hmm maybe that’s why.

“I would’ve been on the next plane to a deserted island if I didn’t trust you all like that, specially with Mingi’s kinky ass,” you snicker, about to get up to return to your previous tasks, but Seonghwa’s hand stops you.

“Hwa?” you question.

“The boys won’t be back till tomorrow, so will you trust me tonight?” he smiles softly.

Heat rises up to your cheeks in embarrassment; it was such a formal and endearing way to ask for that. “Y-yeah…” you stutter out, almost choking from how dry your mouth had suddenly become.

Seonghwa beams up from his seat with excitement, “I won’t let you down!” he exclaims, kissing your hand affectionately before skipping out the kitchen with giddy.

Weird, you thought to yourself, finally getting back to your poor unfinished smoothie.

….

“Did he just skip out of the kitchen like an anime school girl?!”

-

The day went by in a flash. The last time you had checked the clock it was 9 am, rechecking it, it was now 11 pm. You spent the day cleaning the mess Hongjoong had made of the bedroom and online shopping for new bedroom furniture.

Though the house had no shortage of  maids that could’ve easily cleaned up the disaster Hongjoong had caused, no one but you and him were allowed in his room.“I merely feel like my space should be private to us alone,” was Hongjoongs explanation. You understood what he was saying, but cleaning that room was an absolute pain in the ass.

Currently, you were lounging around on the living room couch as a random movie played in the background. It was getting closer and closer to 12, and yet, there was no sign of Seonghwa.

After the breakfast fiasco, he disappeared. You didn’t see him at all around the house, not even a glimpse. You figured he ran off somewhere, but when you asked the guards if he left or where he went, they stifled from answering.

Bzz! Financially at 12 on the dot, your phone vibrates next to you. Turning it over, it was lit up with a message from seonghwa, come to my bedroom.

“Odd,” you voiced out to no one in particular. Nonetheless, you got up from the couch and headed to Seonghwas room.

“Veryyy odd,” you mutter when you see the normally empty hallway lined with candles along the walls. A lighted trail clearly mapped out to the door of Seonghwas bedroom.

The candles in the hallway didn’t have a particular scent to them, but as you approach closer to the bedroom, a scent all too familiar invades your senses. “Vanilla amber,” you whisper in amazement when you reach Seonghwa’s door and push it open.

The room was lined with candles everywhere; the floor, the nightstands, the dresser- everywhere. And right spanking in the middle of the room was the ghost of the day, Seonghwa. He stood there, hair parted and styled to perfection, a pair of plaid pajama pants his only clothing choice of the night.

The sight of him immediately sent fire to your cheeks. You’ve obviously seen Seonghwa’s body before, yet something about the light produced from the candles gleaming on his toned chest sent a wave of desire coursing throughout your body.

It appears you liked the sight a little too much as per the fact that Seonghwa had to fake a cough to get your attention away from his exposed stomach. “Oh umm...h-how did you get all these candles?” you ask awkwardly, trying to keep your gaze at bay.

“Cute,” Seonghwa muses. “I had to go to a couple of different candle stores, though I see you’re more focused on something else,” he smirks, stepping closer to you slowly.

“I-I…”

“May I?” Seonghwa questions, eyes gesturing down to the clothing you were wearing.

You answer him in a curt nod, unable to find your voice due to the intense atmosphere. He starts with your top first, undoing the buttons at an antagonizing slow pace. “You prepared,” Seonghwa uttered in amusement, eyes basking in your bare chest.

You had taken off any undergarments beforehand knowing full well what was going to go down tonight. The silk pajama shirt discarded to the ground with a small plop. Seonghwa’s warm hands came to your stomach, his thumbs pressing down lightly as they map out every curve to your body. His fingers then come to the waistband of your pajama shorts, successfully pulling them off just as teasingly as your shirt.

You stood there naked looking down at the ground not daring to look at Seonghwa as he observed your body, trying to engrain the picture in his brain.

He raises your chin so your eyes could meet and gives you a pleasing smile, “you’re perfect.” you couldn’t help the tiny flush of embarrassment that went through you at his gentle words, “I’m no-”

“You are,” Seonghwa affirms lowly, then, his soft lips are pressed on yours. No roughness or rushing, it was gently sensual, and you respond just the same. The kissing got deeper and deeper; Seonghwa’s tongue pushing past your teeth and meeting your tongue with ease as you gave no resistance to it.

Seonghwa pulls you closer, his hands resting on your hips while his tongue continues to explore every inch of your mouth- occasionally sucking on your tongue. He was doing most of the work and wanting to satisfy him as well was becoming a heavy need for you.

So, deciding to bold, your hand goes to the tent forming in his pajama pants; you touch feather-like as you start to palm him. Seonghwa groans at the surprise, his lips tilting away from you to let out small puffs of air.

His head drops down to your shoulder as you continue to palm him; your hand adding pressure to his shaft little by little. Seonghwa is withering in your touch, his little puffs of air turning into shallow moans. God were his moans orgasm worthy.

Lifting his head up, Seonghwa’s rough voice invades your ears, “that’s enough foreplay.” he pulls your hand away from his intensely prominent erection and trunks you to push you on the bed- his pants quickly discarded in a flash.

You don’t even get the chance to revel in Seonghwa’s fully bare body before he’s on top of you; his cock resting heavily against your belly, the head of it red with need and leaking drops of precum.

Seonghwa’s lips and hands find purchase on your breast, squeezing and gently sucking them. Teasing one nipple with his fingers and the other left to be tormented by his tongue. His ministrations driving you to whine and squeal as pleasure soars through you.

His torture on your sensitive nipples continues for a few minutes, his hands and mouth alternating between each nipple, your body thrashing, and twisting. Mouth wide open and letting out soft moans.

Once Seonghwa’s hunger for your breast is sated, he pulls away, saliva dripping down his mouth like a rabid animal. However, his fingers continue to work your nipples- twisting them playfully, his grip sometimes tightening causing you to groan and arch your back.

“What happened to no foreplay,” you pant out with a little difficulty due to Seonghwa’s intoxicative touch.

Seonghwa retorts your comment with one last tight squeeze to your nipples and an amused chuckle that dies down as quickly as it came out. His face turns serious, deadly serious. His eyes glance up to yours, no joking expression to be found on his face, “do you trust me?”

The question perplexed you, “of course I do hwa,” you answer quickly without any hesitation.

“No, do you trust me?” he asks again, his voice emphasizing the word trust.

“Yes,” you answer again with no hesitation. You knew what he was really asking and it was the full truth, you do trust him both ways. Still, Seonghwa searches your eyes for any doubt, when he finds none at all, his expression relaxes, and his lustful gaze returns.

“Thank you,” Seonghwa replies genuinely before getting off the bed to position himself between your legs. You catch a spark of thrill course through Seonghwa as he stares down your body in admiration. “Ready?” he questions, lining himself up with your entrance.

You don’t have to even contemplate your answer and give him a firm nod, which he returns. You hold in your breath as seonghwa starts to push inside you. He sank in slowly to let you adjust and for the benefit of feeling every inch of him.

Though there was no resistance, you couldn’t resist letting out a gruntled moan. Seonghwa wasn’t as long as hongjoong, but he sure as hell was girthier making the stretch painfully delicious.

Once Seonghwa’s cock was fully settled in you, he reared his hips back and slowly thrusts back in. He continues with these slow and gentle thrusts, gradually working you open till you’re accepting all of him with ease and small moans.

“Fuck Y/n,” Seonghwa groans at you, “you feel so fucking good around me,” his sultry voice fanning your ear when he delivers a particularly hard thrust causing a loud moan to tear from your throat.“That’s it, baby, take it all,” he praises you, the pace of thrusts instantly picking up from thereon.

Seonghwa moves harder and faster, his skin slapping yours vigorously, and you’re relishing in the bliss. Seonghwa is pressing into you so deeply and dragging along your sensitive insides. 

You close your eyes wanting to only concentrate on the pleasure you're receiving and the build-up of an orgasm forming in you- a plethora of loud moans unawarely flooding out your mouth. Seonghwas thrusts slow and falters for a second and he shirts himself a little, but returns to the same pace in a matter of seconds, so you thought nothing of it.

“You’re doing so well baby, but I’m going to need you to breathe and relax yourself for what’s going to happen next,” he asks of you lowly in your ear, one of his hands sliding up and down your thigh to calm down your now very alert mind.

“What’s going to happen hwa?” you ask through rocky moans, tempting to open your eyes, but Seonghwa covers them quickly before you could catch a glimpse of anything.

“Ah ah keep your eyes closed, and I want to try something with you, but you need to trust me and relax, Seonghwa halts his thrusts completely, “nothing harmful will happen to you. Everything is up to you. I won’t do anything you don’t want or don’t ask for; so, do you want to do this?”

You feel a bit apprehensive at whatever seonghwa is planning to do. The fear of the unknown will always be very much present within you, but you felt safe in Seonghwa’s hands, and that’s all that was needed to clear your mind of any hesitation or doubt.

“I want to do it,” you agree firmly.

“What’s the safe word?”

“Purple.”

“Good girl, now breathe and relax for me.” Seonghwa resumes his thrusts, pulling his hips back gently and pushing in every inch of his cock all the way. You breathe in deeply through your nose and exhale steadily through your mouth, letting your body go lax and bringing that built up pleasure back.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” Seonghwa praises, a fast pace of thrusts hitting inside you suddenly. You try to keep up a steady breathing pattern, but it’s near to impossible with Seonghwa’s cock rubbing along your walls, hitting that special spot so fucking good.

with your eyes closed, every sensation becomes more present and powerful. Seonghwa only pushes impossibly further, provoking more moans to pour out of you. All your senses have been drowned so much by Seonghwa’s cock that you fail to smell the pungent odor of smoke.

More so, you fail to question what is it Seonghwa was going to do when you let out what would be classified as a hiss mixed with a strangled moan, “ah fuck!” a hot heat had hit your stomach unexpectedly causing the mixed sound to erupt from your throat and your body to twit oddly.

Your eyes fly open to investigate what the hell just splattered on you and- fuck.

It took your eyes a second to adjust, but there everything was clear as day. Seonghwas body glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing rigidly as he continues to thrust into you hard, his eyes dazed out with lust, and his hand holding a burnt-out candle a foot above your stomach.

“I knew you where a kinky fuck,” you groan out as seonghwa moves to drip the hot wax on your left thigh.  

“I could say the same about you. You’re clenching down on me so tightly; you like it baby?” seonghwa chuckles breathlessly, moving the candle above your breasts and letting a stream of hot wax drip. You clamp down hard on his cock, the heat of the wax creating an unusual pleasurable pain that could only be described as intense. So intense it has you gasping and squirming uncontrollably.

Seonghwa gave one last dribble of wax on your right thigh; he knew you both wouldn’t last much longer and he didn’t want to push you farther on your first time with something new. Setting the burnt-out candle aside, Seonghwa curls his hands under your knees and guides your legs over his shoulders.

“You’re doing so good baby,” Seonghwa gushes and gives a gentle kiss to your knee. That sweet moment didn’t last even a second; Seonghwa’s grip on you tightens and he starts pounding into you at a relentless brutal pace.

The pure force of his cock thrusting into you has you delirious. All you could do was tray and grasp at any air you could. You couldn’t help yourself anymore, inaudible cries of seonghwas' name spill out of you; he was pushing and filling you in all the right ways.

Seonghwa wasn’t doing any better. His thrusts grew erratic and impatient, his breathing becoming labored, and muscles contraction. A sinfully beautiful sight he was to bask in.

You whine out, the rough pushes of his cock that wnt impossibly deeper into you finally pushing you to your orgasm. “Fuck!” you scream, tossing your head back in absolute bliss. Everything felt so light, but heavy at the same time.

The build-up, your fucked out face, and the wax that glistened so brightly with the help of the candle flames is all it took for Seonghwa to spill into you. His body convulsing with relief as he fills you up with every drop of his cum- the amount so big that some even spills out of you before he pulls out.

Seonghwa flops down next to you, completely burnt out and exhausted; the same exact feeling hitting you as you come down from euphoric bliss. “Are you okay baby?” Seonghwa asks you softly, sluggishly getting up to grab a few wet rags and oil to get the hardened wax off your skin.

Seonghwa first took one of the wet rags and wiped up all the excess cum that had gushed out of you. He then took another rag and smothered oil on it, and began dotting oil all over the wax, effectively soaking it and peeling it off your body.

He gave your body one last wipe down before throwing away the dirtied rags and wax in the trash, and flopping down next to you again- His arms immediately coming around you and pulling you flush against his chest.

“Thank you for this. For trusting me,” Seonghwa whispered, his tired eyes staring into yours with genuine love and happiness. Your heart swelled full with the same love. No words could ever express just how much you love and trust these boys, and no words could ever express how much it means to you to be trusted by them.

Trust isn’t simple in their world, trust is life or death. It’s a bond that if broken or severed could only leave with a bullet to the heart- figuratively and literally.

“I love you,” you whisper softly, snuggling into him and giving a small kiss to his chest.

“I love you to baby,” Seonghwa whispers back, tightening his arms around you in a protective hold.

With that, you drift to sleep peacefully. The last things you hear being Seonghwa’s calm breathing and the distant quiet sound of a phone going off.

____________________________________________________

Taglist:  @mirror-juliet​ @ambersaesthetics​ @multidreams-and-desires​ @etherealskzs​ @sonnensplitter​  @daroze22​ (Sorry if I missed anyone!)

[nukyster-blog]

Changing Course Chapter 26) Burdens women bare

.-.-.

It wasn’t their holy day, it wasn’t Sunday. The bells gave that away. As the Giant dragged Ivar across the cobblestoned centre towards the chapel, the bells rang in a peal, echoing their melodic sounds through the castle de Haar. 

The chapel was already packed with the inhabitants, but instead of calm gracing through their most holy chamber, the room was buzzing with excited chatter. Children ran between rows, fighting each other for the closest spots near the altar underneath the high arched windows. 

Was it a special holy day? A possible celebration of spring? 

Ivar sat up and stared across the pompous room. Honestly he didn’t care what reason lay behind his smatter of freedom. It felt thrilling yet intimidating to be out of the shed and placed back into society. To be sitting on a wooden bench instead of laying in filth and hay. Ivar looked around so quickly his eyes nearly fell out; stained glass, the heavy iron bound door, elegant candle holders. The smell of wax and incense. The sounds of foreign chatter, contained coughs, giggling of children, and footsteps echoing between the old stonewalls; it was an overstimulation of Ivar’s dulled brain. The months of utter cold and nothingness, rocking back and forth to keep himself warm in either twilight or dark, had taken its toll on him. 

He did not realise he was physically cramping up and holding his breath until Piglet’s warm and calloused hand formed itself around his. 

Ivar glanced at her hand, with nails bitten and ripped, raw and so small compared to his. She gave him a gentle squeeze and an even softer smile as his eyes trailed back up to read her face. 

“Breath, hamar”, she told him as if she were talking to a small, dumb child. And in that moment Ivar felt like a small dumb child, inhaling a sharp deep breath as his body seemed to have forgotten to do that automatically. 

The bells kept ringing, those insufferable Christian words kept swirling around him like flies. It all came crashing in like  waves in the ocean; the voices, sounds, smells and bile rose in his throat. For a moment, Ivar feared he’d be drowning on land, like a fish. 

To lessen the external rollercoaster he closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths again, blowing out slowly. In order to keep the suffocating thoughts from spiraling out of control he chose a steady anchor to hold onto and held onto the hand of Piglet. Intertwining fingers, he knew his clutch around hers was hurting her. But he could not bring himself to ease his grip, not yet. 

For a solid moment alone, Ivar missed being locked inside the shed. The unsettling boredom, the shackles and chains. The smell of animal dung, mildew, and wet furs. That place was constant, dull, dark and safe. In there he’d been the Bloody Bear of Kattegat, for months, rocking back and forth to keep his mind from breaking and his body from freezing. 

It was impossible to shake that mental state off in a matter of minutes. So Ivar quietly rocked back and forth on the wooden bench, eyes firmly shut close and focussing on merely keeping his body from suffocating. 

“Hamar, breath”, Piglet murmured in his ear, her words tickling his skin, “you’re Viking, think of your Gods.” 

Ivar pressed his forehead against the backside of the wooden bench in front of him and while keeping his eyes shut whispered...“hail All-Father, wise warrior, one-eyed wanderer, come sit at my fire. Tell me your wisdom stories, the scenes your missing eyes sees. You who chooses the slain, look on my deed and when my time comes, to run the sky with you. Let me end be worthy of song. In the meantime, let me feel excitement and poetry and fury and joy. Let me understand sacrifice. Think long, remember well and journey far. Odin, witness this”.

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room  and Ivar reopened his eyes wide, shocked by the sudden lack of sounds and voices. Before he had time to recover from the first surprise he was struck with the next: the presence of the fair-maiden. The young woman stood in the doorway of the heavy iron door, arms hooked with a wealthy man Ivar hadn’t seen before. 

She was draped from head to toe in deep jewel tones, made of velvet, silk and satin. Although the poor thing did her absolute best to keep her face blank from emotion, she had the gait of someone who was about to walk into her own funeral. Every step seemed to take her forever as if she wished to master time and take an eternity to end her walk up to the altar. 

As the fair-maiden started her slow pace, everyone around Ivar rose up to their feet, even Piglet sheepishly participated, urgently tugging on Ivar’s hand to at least try to get up too. 

Ivar abruptly let go of her hand, grabbed the edge of the wooden bench in front of him and pulled himself upon his feet. Unsteady, he leaned heavily on the bench, his legs trembling and spasming underneath him. 

But by the Gods, he was going to keep on standing. And it was not because he obeyed the Christians. He desperately wanted to see the fair-maiden as long as he could and remaining seated meant all he could see were backs, elbows, and arses. 

The fair-maiden walked right by him and instinctively Ivar moved towards her, only to be spitefully elbowed between the ribs by Piglet, who did not condone any foolishness from his behalf. 

For a second time that day Ivar found himself breathless. Barely able to keep himself up on his feet, he gazed at Piglet in utter anger. Unfazed, she glared back at him, motioning her elbow slightly up to warn him she’d do it again if he dare do  anything so drastic and stupid. 

Oh, at times Ivar wished he had enough nails to nail the Giant and Piglet both. 

“Insufferable cunt”, Ivar breathed in her ear as he was forced to stare at the back of the fair-maiden. 

“Thick-head”, she responded with a whisper as all heads turned to the next entry. 

It was Ludolf, wearing a masculine version of the fair-maiden’s look; a three-quarter length tunic with wide sleeves and an open, round neckline. His lop-sided lip was formed into a satisfied smile as he bathed in all the attention. 

Piglet had her elbow already pinned into Ivar’s chest as a warning, while the young man strode along them. A good thing though, because the scars on Ivar’s back seemed to be set on fire the moment he lay eyes on the spineless creature that caused them. Whatever truth may lay in Piglet’s confession about his Djinn, Ivar could feel something inside of him rob his consciousness from his heart, stopping the natural process of guilt and shame and stirring on mere hatred alone. Whatever lurked inside of him, there was a part that fueled on wrath and rage alone. A hunger for destruction of flesh, bones and civilisation. 

“This is not the time”, Piglet expressed breathlessly, summoning back some awareness of their poor status and certain death, if Ivar dared to lunge forward. 

Calculated, Ivar realised he would not be able to make it to Ludolf, he wouldn’t even be able to yap at his ankles as he’d done last time. And Ivar did not need to remind himself what had happened to him after he’d marked the young ruler with his teeth. 

Lowering his head in defeat, Ivar listened as their priest opened his holy book and started speaking. 

A wedding ceremony… Ivar thoughtlessly shook his head, they’d all been prepped up to witness a marriage of convenience. A faithless arrangement between the father of the bride and the father of the groom. Devotion not by heart, but by responsibility and honour. The fair-maiden would be burdened to endure Ludolf until death, barring his children and turning the other cheek. Ivar didn’t understand why he dwelled on that prospect of her future. He’d known for a long time about the arranged marriage. 

But he never thought he’d be witness to her ceremonial doom. Although her path was paved with golden stones, they both shared the same form of dread; being absolutely powerless. Voiceless, nothing more than a piece of meat, auctioned off to the highest bidder. 

After a short welcome, all spectators were informed to sit down. The biblical nonsense took on forever, but the lack of voices and chattering was more than welcome and gave Ivar the time to unwind. 

He watched the fair-maiden from between shoulders and heads. Her emotions were not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain was so evident in the crease of her brow and the down-curve of her full lips. Her petite frame seemed so easy to break, shatter at the altar as the burden upon her shoulders became too much for her to carry. 

She was so different from Ivar, so fragile and innocent, although that part of her would soon be demolished. Ivar figured it would die during her wedding night, as the young ruler would claim what was rightfully his. 

“She won’t last long”, Piglet whispered bitterly. Yet her venom was not directed toward the fair-maiden, but to the despicable creature that was about to marry her. 

Ivar failed to respond and watched the exchange of rings. Her hands trembled as Ludolf slid the piece of gold around her finger. A wealthy form of chains and shackles, a symbol of the power he was about to hold over her. His wife. 

The audience was asked to stand, and Ivar did so as quickly as he could. Just in time to see them kiss. It was quick and lacked any sign of affection, but it was enough to simmer up Ivar’s anger. 

The tension that came with that anger was enough to send his right leg into a spasm, causing him to stumble and collapse onto the marble floor. Piglet and the rest of the people in his row glared at his clumsiness, while the rest of the room broke down in celebration. 

Clapping, excited chatter and cheers filled the air and everyone was drawn to the newlyweds. 

Now that he was down, Ivar figured he had nothing to lose. And so he crawled past filthy feet and dirty boots to peek around the rows of benches and stare at the fair-maiden from a different angle. 

The pair were still standing at the altar, holding their intertwined hands into the air to receive all of the applause and best wishes. The fair-maiden had managed to turn her lips into a smile and cautiously glanced at the rows of people. Strangers.

The pair started walking, Ludolf waved at his lessers and the fair-maiden followed him aside, her arm hooked with his and her gaze gracefully lowered to the tips of her toes. That was her future from this day, to obey and keep herself as small as possible. For in this world there was no place for women that spoke their minds with sharp tongues. 

As by faith, the fair-maiden suddenly glanced up and noticed Ivar down on the floor. Keeping himself up on his elbows staring could be their only form of communication. 

It was so evident that she needed something, anything, to hold onto during the darkest hour of her life. A sign that her future might not be painted so grim, the pain so legible in her begging, downturned gaze. 

Ivar drew a little cross on his forehead with his index finger and gave her a gentle nod to convince her to keep her faith. He could feel his own lips burn as the fair-maiden wetted hers and managed to lift them into a halfhearted smile. 

The pair passed Ivar, heading towards what would probably be the biggest celebratory meal of the year. Ivar watched the back of their heads, touching his upper lip while all exited, chattering turned into a buzz. 

Piglet stomped her cold toes harshly into his ribs and gave him a shove to start moving. Oh, if it wasn’t for the major amount of witnesses she’d be having a fit right now. But aside from a few more kicks she could not afford to lash out and quietly walked behind Ivar, who was boiling like a pot of tar, ready to overflow. 

The Giant split them apart. Ivar made a mental note to have the brute crawl through thorn bushes set on fire before slaughtering the man, as he was being dragged over the cobblestones. If it weren’t  for the potato bags, Ivar’s knees would be bruised and scraped back open.

A second miracle appeared today. Instead of being locked back up into the shed, Ivar was being dragged into the Castle’s kitchen. He highly doubted it was due to the Giant’s change of heart, no, the reason for this smatter of freedom was pragmatic; there was a feast coming up and the kitchen needed a few more hands.

So, Ivar was back at peeling and cutting onions, all while crying his eyes out. But it beat the absolute loneliness and boredom of the shed. It was a nice change of atmosphere; the chaos, heat, and mouth watering smells of brisket, soups, and baked potatoes. Little Cunt ruled her kitchen like a warrior, beating her cane against every head thick enough to make a mistake. The workers literally risked their heads and a possible concussion around the pots, pans, knives, and silver pitchers. 

Big Cunt was in charge of the service, every tray would be checked with her prying eyes. Every slip of greasy gravy, wine stained napkin or overcooked slice of meat would be punished with a foul snarl and a slap in the face. Tonight was the feast of the rich, there was no room for mistakes.

Ivar watched the chaotic beehive led by two queens patiently while squinting his eyes. The scent was poison to his eyes, blurring his vision and turning him into a snottering, sniveling mess. 

Piglet’s humble form emerged from the crowd, painfully rubbing the side of her head, an indication that Little Cunt wasn’t pleased with her efforts. Appearing a little lost, her eyes regained a humored glint when she noticed Ivar’s struggle with the mass of torturous vegetables. 

“Welcome back”, Piglet sniggered, collecting the cut onions in a large bowl. 

Ivar refused to respond, wiping vigorously through his eyes in an attempt to rid himself of tears. Once he blinked the blurriness from his vision, Piglet had vanished back into the mass, leaving him to his simpleton duty. 

.-.-.

It must have been well over midnight when the kitchen staff turned from serving to cleaning. Piglet and Ivar were in charge of the counters, which wasn’t in Ivar’s best interest; standing required him to use the support of both his arms. And since he could not magically grow a third arm, he had to balance his support with one arm and two very unwilling legs, all while productively scrubbing away grease. 

The task already took him down two times; the first time resulted in him banging his chin down onto the counter. The second time, he landed hard on his arse as Little Cunt grew tired of his clumsiness and unproductivity. The old hag wacked her cane mercilessly against Ivar’s chinbones.

He had to give it to her, for such an ancient bitch with a crooked back and arthritis, she had the fury and force of a proper shieldmaiden. 

This, however, did not change the fact that Little Cunt was now the third person on Ivar’s hitlist. He’d butcher her like a pig, using her own set of cherished kitchen knives. And then cook her up in the largest cauldron to serve her to the fat rulers of de Haar.

Ivar envisioned how the flesh would slowly loosen from her brittle bones, oh he’d use her own cane to stir her body around until she’d turned into a decent stew. Maybe ask Piglet to piss in it, too. 

As if the slave could read his mind, Piglet dropped the entire content of one of the serving trays. A fortune of silverware crashed down onto the floor, while red wine splattered the cabinets. 

It looked like a murder scene, and Little Cunt was about to commit the crime. The old woman let out a bloody warcry and chased after Piglet with her cane waving around like a flag. 

It was entertaining to watch Piglet wear the Little Cunt down, because the older woman was no match for the speed and swiftness of Piglet. Little Cunt eventually settled with beating the life out of the closest person in reach before letting out a shaky breath and faint from lack of air and probably old age. 

Big Cunt was on a rescue mission to save the dignity of her commander and unleashed her fury onto Piglet. It was a one-sided engagement of scratching, punching, and hair pulling which ended with Piglet on her knees, her face pressed into the mess she’d made. 

Of course there was laughter and ridicule, but it quickly evolved into concern about the well-being of Little Cunt. 

As most of the kitchen staff circled around their hated leader, while Big Cunt cried bloody murder, Ivar crawled out to Piglet to help her pick up the piece of silverware.

Three red gashes marked her face, a gift from Big Cunt, but Piglet’s face was lit with stubborn satisfaction.  

“You might have slayed the old dragon Piglet”, Ivar muttered as two members of the kitchen staff hoisted Little Cunt up onto her feet to drag her away. The old woman spat out some feisty mumbling, but lost the strength to bash heads in. 

“Did you plan this?”, Ivar continued.

Piglet glanced at him through her lashes and carefully touched one of the three fingernail scratches on her cheek. 

“Ivar the bloody, Ivar de Martelaar, Ivar the dog with muzzle,” she summoned up mockingly, “you have enough nicknames, no room for another; Ivar-bashed-up-knees”. Piglet pointed at the red wine stained floor and cabinet. “You clean that, I clean counter, you’re useless standing.” 

And so Ivar was given the task to clean up after Piglet until the early hours of morning. But with both his crippled legs intact. 

.-.-.

A/N: Yeah #teampiglet all the way. Ivar’s savage guardian angel. So this chapter was another interesting one to write. I felt the need to highlight the mental damage winter left behind. I just couldn’t let the fact slide that Ivar has been locked up for months, while fighting bitter cold, in twilight or dark, spending endless hours all alone. So yeah, to then be alright and function while being dragged into a overcrowded place...nop, that felt wrong. 

So I guess you could say he had a mild panic attack right before the ceremony. And then to watch the fair-maiden being married off to Ludolf, oh what a monstrosity I am as the writer. 

Also, I did a little bit of research about the wedding ceremony. During this era the wedding dress wasn’t white but blue, so there you go. This time Piglet took one for the team, I’m happy to end with a little humor for a change. I like how she’s able to get what she wants while being the weakest link in the room. Ivar and Piglet, two peas in a pod.

This was it for this week again, hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter and it would be lovely if you’ve let me know what your thoughts are. 

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The tagged ones:@youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax @saldelys​ @shannygoatgruff@pieces-by-me@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa@readsalot73@lauraan182 @conaionaru@sarahh-jane@peachybonelessIf you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

[theasstour]

𝓡𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓽 𝓫𝔂 𝓗𝓪𝓴𝓸𝓷 𝓢𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓲𝓭𝓮

𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 | 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 10.8k 𝓝𝓑: 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝔁𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽

A/N: biggest thanks to @shepherald for being bb’s italian auntie!

Sunday, 11 August 2019

The only light came from the abundance of various candles Harry had spread all over his loft. After countless hours of them chatting, getting to know each other, and laying in silence, Y/N had come to realise Harry preferred candlelight to electricity. When she questioned him about it, he had simply just cocked his head to the side, studied her for a few seconds, and said, “There is freedom in not being revealed everything to. In art it lets your imagination wander, ‘cause not being told everything means you have to figure it out on your own. There are untold stories and secrets in the shadows on a canvas.”

Y/N had only laughed at him, to which Harry had just looked at her, demanding an explanation to her outburst.

“You don’t like the dark,” she had reasoned. “How can you say secrets lay in the shadows when you’re afraid of the dark? Why do you paint it?”

Harry had looked at her, studying her intently before he said, “I’m not so afraid of walking in the dark anymore.”

Y/N had thought about that answer for a few days now. Though people could learn to get rid of their phobias and the like, it was unusual to rid oneself of one so fast. Harry had leaned into water just a few days after confessing to her he didn’t like it because he couldn’t see the bottom and where he was walking, and now he told her he liked the dark parts of a canvas because of the possibilities they held. It was weird to her, but she liked the fact he was defying his fears. She was proud of him.

But right that second when she started thinking of this again, Y/N was laid on the floor of Harry’s loft. Night surrounded them, all the windows and the doors leading out to the balcony were open, filling the house with the humid yet refreshing air of the summer evening. Her eyes were on Harry as he stood above her, biting her lip as her mind started wandering again.

She had been laying in bed when he had called her name. The two had spent all day in his house, doing nothing but talk, fuck, and soak up in the little time they had left like this. Next Sunday she wouldn’t be there. Next Sunday, she’d be at home in Maldon, packing up her stuff to go back down to London and to her last year of University. But neither wanted to think about that, they’d rather relish in this time they had together. But Y/N had been laying in Harry’s bed, about to get back to Portia on a text she’d received earlier that day when Harry called her. She’d been a bit surprised at first. After all, he’d told her, he needed to actually do some work today and not only spend his sweet time between her legs (“Though I very much want to do just that,” he’d mumbled). It had been about an hour when she heard her name, so she put her phone aside and stepped into her summer dress. When she reached the loft, Harry had been standing by the balcony door, looking out over the landscape. He was wearing his white overalls, the top half tied so low on his waist she could make out the beginnings of his bum. And when he turned around, the dark trail of hair leading downwards was also very much visible, contrasting drastically with the light colour of the paint-splotched overalls.

“What’s going on?” she’d asked.

“Nothing,” he simply replied. “Just want you here.”

She hadn’t been able to contain her smile, and at the sight of hers, he smiled back. He was about to turn to the canvas he’d placed on the easel outside on the balcony when he stopped himself. His eyes landed on her again, trailing her form.

“Lay down.”

She furrowed her brows, looking at the floor of the loft. “Where?”

Harry walked over to one of the cabinets and brought out what must’ve once been used as a huge curtain. It was white and seemingly very old; dust having greyed it with time. He placed it on the ground for her motioning with his hand for her to lay down on that. She was about to when he interrupted her movements with a low, “Take off your dress.”

She’d stopped in her tracks, feeling her heart beat a little faster and a tingle of excitement all over her body. But she didn’t hesitate. Reaching for the bottom of her dress, she dragged it upwards till she revealed herself completely to him. Harry didn’t say a word, just watched her like he was in a trance, not able to look away. She felt so powerful when he looked at her like that. It made her believe she was the ruler of something, like she possessed some sort of prestige and grace no one else in the world would ever have or had ever before her or after her. She laid down on the floor, looking up at him for further instructions.

“On your back, baby.” He said, voice filled with a sort of affection and demand that could make her do anything.

She laid on her back and Harry came over, down on his knees before Y/N and reaching for her again. He took a light grip of her right thigh, moving it till her leg was bent and knee resting in front of her other, her foot hooked behind her calf. He then moved on to her arms, trailing a hand up her front and between her breast as he shifted his attention.

“Teasing.” She giggled, making Harry grin.

Harry took both a hold of both her wrists, pinning them above her head, leaning down till his lips were hovering above hers. “It’s not teasing if I follow through later, is it?”

“That’s later, not now.”

Harry giggled, kissing her lips, cheek, jaw. “You haven’t had enough of me?”

“I could never.” She said, letting go of a deep breath as his hands tightened around her wrists, smiling. “What about me?”

“What about you?” he mumbled against her skin, nibbling at her neck.

“Have you had enough of me? Since you asked the question first and all.”

Harry huffed, moving up so his lips were above hers, placing her hands like he wanted them without breaking eye contact. “I’m the one asking you to undress. So no, I won’t ever get enough of you.”

He left her laying there, getting up and fetching his easel again along with a new canvas. He placed them exactly where he wanted them before he walked off to get his paint, brushes and palette. He pressed soma paint out of some tubes and Y/N furrowed her brows, they looked different from the small tubes he usually used.

“Trying a new sort?” she asked, not being able to help herself.

Harry brought all the paint over, along with a cloth, a glass of water, and his palette. Only he didn’t place all his stuff beside his easel, but rather on the floor next to Y/N. He sat down beside her, dabbing his brush into some dark blue before he started painting away on the bent leg, on her thigh.

“I’m a canvas now?”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head at her. “Got an idea.”

“Mind sharing it?”

“I’m sharing it right now, ain’t I?”

“How?”

“By showing you my painting.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re painting on me, I think I need a better explanation than that.”

Harry smiled, dipping his brush in more paint before returning to her thigh, painting in what looked like half circles up her thigh. He let the brush rest in water for a few seconds before he wiped it, swirled it on his hand, and dipped it back in a lighter blue. He did the same with this one, paying very close attention to each of his movements.

“You aren’t using your regular paint.”

“You noticed?” He almost seemed a little shocked she knew his brands and routines.

“Of course.”

He glanced up at her, giving her a small smile before returning his attention to her thigh. “This is acrylic paint.”

Y/N waited for more, and when he kept his mouth shut, she urged, “Yeah?”

“It dries quicker.”

“Quicker than oil paint?”

“Way quicker. 20 minutes, 30 tops. Oil takes hours.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said. “I remember you telling me that.”

Harry huffed a short laugh, dipping the brush in more paint and detailing a bit more before he moved positions. He came to sit further up her body, getting some more paint on his paintbrush before he started drawing on her stomach. Y/N was suddenly very aware of how her stomach looked laying like this, how soft it was. Harry started painting in a hypnotising circle of sorts. Circles that focused in on the spot right in the middle of her torso, one single vein reaching out and wrapping around her left ribcage. He did the same with the blue, outlining the lighter colour.

“Will you ever forgive me for how I mistreated you?” Harry asked, voice ever so tender. He sounded scared, as if he was horrified by what the answer might be.

“I won’t forgive you for making me uncomfortable when we first met.”

Harry looked up at her. “How did I make you uncomfortable?”

She clicked her tongue, glancing away from him.

“Y/N.”

“You don’t remember?”

“What did I do?”

Their eyes met again. “You asked me if the dress would fit.”

Harry stopped painting, furrowing his brows a little.

“I didn’t like that.”

Harry put the brush in the water before glancing back at her. “I was just asking to be sure it would, if not I would’ve had Jamie contact a costume designer and had another dress made.”

She sighed. “It’s… more than a dress, Harry.”

“Great. Tell me what it is, then.” He asked, about to place a hand on her thigh when he realised it was covered in paint. “Talk to me.”

“You don’t understand how awful it is to be reminded by people – people you don’t even know – that you’re bigger. It doesn’t even have to be a rude comment, it can just be a ‘Will it fit’ and someone’s confidence can come crumbling down. People who haven’t had problems like that don’t get it.” Y/N explained, sighing. “That I’ll never fit into my partner’s clothes ‘cause I’ll always be bigger than them, or how if I buy a shirt in a size small for a present for a mate the cashier will look at me like ‘you sure about this’. It just sucks to be reminded, and I don’t want people to think that because of my body I’m lesser than them. That they can talk to me in a disrespectful tone because of how I look.”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, but I won’t forgive you for making me feel uncomfortable. And I’ll never forgive people who think they’re better than someone who doesn’t see fat people, POC, LGBT, or anyone else, as their equal.”

Harry nodded. “Good, you shouldn’t.”

She smiled a little.

“I’ll never make you feel uncomfortable again. I promise.”

She nodded. “I know.”

Harry smiled back at her, reaching for his brush and dipping it in a lighter colour before doing the same he’d done with the paint previous. He followed the swirl, tilting his head as he focused on her, covering her in dark to light blue. The swirls almost reminded Y/N of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. She knew Harry admired the Dutch painter a whole deal, he’d told her as much during one of those long and deep conversations the two of them had shared. But she really saw it now. All from the calf and all the way up her body, up her arms, neck, breasts, tummy; it was all covered in shades of blue. The circle came to focus on a round form in the middle of her torso. It seemed to be glowing in different hues of gold, like some sort of life force. And the little vein that had escaped the swirling storm surrounding the gold blob, was a similar yet smaller swirl of pink. Harry continued to paint on her, the two just staying there in silence, letting Harry paint out the image inside his head. It wasn’t till her leg, torso, and arms were almost completely covered in paint that Y/N spoke.

“What’s the inspiration behind this piece then?”

“Adoration.” Harry answered, not even batting an eye.

Y/N didn’t know what that meant, something Harry understood by her silence. He dragged the brush over her tummy, stopping as he reached the circle of gold in the middle.

“The parts of you I adore.”

He took her breath away, he truly did. The cold and closed man she’d met earlier that summer was gone completely. Before her sat the most tender, most open, most beautiful person she’d ever met. It startled her how much a person could change in a matter of a bit over a month. Or was this the person Harry had been before everything with Salvatore? To be frank, she didn’t particularly care. As long as Harry was as happy now as she was, and as long as he felt the same way she did, as long as he got to live his life the way he wanted to, she didn’t care about the person he’d been before this. He was happier now than she’d ever seen him, and that was all she cared about.

She never cried. If there was one thing she rarely did, it was let something get to her to such an extent that it took over all her emotions. But something about Harry taking two hours to merely paint on her naked body in detail, something about him paying such close attention to her and painting the parts of her he adored the most, it got her feeling something she never had before. No one had made her feel this important.

Though she tried to be as quiet as possible and not make loads of noise, Harry heard her sniffles. He looked up at her, a concerned furrow to his brows. “You alright? Am I stepping over a line-“

“-No, no, no, you’re alright. You’re great.” She assured him, afraid to move her arm and wipe a tear away in case she ruined his painting.

He seemed to know her predicament however, because he reached up and wiped her tears away, one at a time. “Then what is it? What’s wrong?” He stroked his fingers over her cheek. “Don’t cry, my love. Please.”

She couldn’t help the sob that rocked through her body, and she managed a small smile with a wobbling bottom lip. “It’s just it took me years and years to accept my body and to respect myself enough not to put myself down every single day over how I looked, how I was fat, how everyone was thinner and prettier than me.” Her smile widened as Harry wiped yet another tear away. “And here you are, doing it so quickly and without hesitation.”

Harry took a grip of his brush again, dipping into the gold yellow before looking into her eyes again. “It’s easier to be critical of yourself than of someone else. You can be your own worst enemy.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He let his eyes wander her body, taking in the painted areas and the areas he had left naked. She could tell by his stare that he hadn’t left some places free of paint because he didn’t adore those, but rather because painting her entire body would take too long. Also, painting some areas would not be very ideal. He inhaled, bringing his brush to her tummy. “I could never paint you. Could never do you justice in any way. I’ll try. I’ll fucking try till the day I die, but…” he circled the gold with the last layer of paint. “But I won’t ever be able to capture your beauty fully. No painting could ever do you justice. Art is beyond you. This…” he put the brush in the glass of water, outlining her body with his finger like he had done that time they had first woken up together. “There isn’t a word for this yet. Not a phrase powerful enough. I used to think paintings were fantastic ‘cause they told you more than a text ever could, but you’ve challenged that idea. You’re more powerful, more beautiful, more timeless than art. You’re more than everything.”

Y/N hadn’t known what people meant when they said they could remember the exact moment you fell in love with someone. She knew she was in love with Harry, knew she admired him beyond any comprehension. But looking back, Y/N knew this was the exact moment she started loving Harry. Hearing him say that, feeling his tender touch, being covered in his art, it all came together and created an emotion she was unsure she’d ever felt before.

“If you lay still, I’m gonna go paint you now, yeah?” Harry got up from the ground, bringing all his equipment with him. She just watched him, admiring how he lifted his white overalls further up his hips, and how they fell down a bit when he tied the arms around his waist again.

“My nose is itchy.”

“Don’t fucking-“ he was in front of her in a second, scratching her nose.

She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“You said your nose was itchy! I’m helping you out! No bloody way you’re ruining my paint.” He said, scratching still. “Alright?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“Brill.” He turned back to his canvas again, looking down at her. “Don’t move. I’ll be very mad.”

Giggling, she bit her bottom lip, watching as the tiniest of smiles stretched out over his lips as well. He dipped a new brushin some oil paint, took another look at her, and started painting. And watching him do exactly was he was born to do, what he did for a living, those three words echoed in the back of Y/N’s head. Like a soft chant that would be on repeat till the say she died. His name alone triggered the words; triggered her to say them and feel them and let them surround her. Harry, I love you, she thought, hoping he somehow could hear her or sense how she was feeling, but at the same time scared how he’d react if he didn’t feel the same way. Harry, I love you.

Tuesday, 13 August 2019

“Long time since I’ve seen your face.” Portia said as she appeared on Y/N’s phone screen. “How are you?”

Y/N nodded, looking down on Viola resting in her lap. “Good, a bit sunburnt. And you?”

“Alright, not very sunburnt. Haven’t seen the bloody sun in over a week.”

Y/N laughed. “How’s mum? Has she been looking after you since you got the casts off?”

“Yeah, she’s at my flat all the time now. It’s nice of her to be here and make sure I don’t fall and break both legs again, but that won’t happen when I’m laying in my sofa!” She shouted the last part, clearly hoping that Elaine, who was somewhere in Portia’s flat, would somehow hear and get the memo.

“Is she being a pest?”

“Babe, you have no fucking idea.” Portia hissed, looking over her shoulder to make sure their mother wouldn’t hear her. “She won’t leave me alone.”

“She’s just looking out for you, though.” Y/N reasoned, watching as Viola jumped down from her lap and walked over to sit in the windowsill by the open window.

“And I appreciate that, but I don’t want her around all the time. She does my head in.”

Y/N chuckled, getting up to make herself a glass of iced tea. “Mum’s always done your head in, that’s what it’s like being the favourite.”

“Oh, lay off, I’m not Mum’s favourite.”

“Is that Y/N, dear?” Elaine walked into the room and suddenly she was visible over Portia’s shoulder. “Hello, love!”

Y/N did a little wave. “Hiya.”

“Why are you spending a sunny day inside your flat?” Elaine asked, and Y/N instantly dreaded coming home to those kinds of questions constantly till she left for uni again.

Y/N sighed. “I’m talking to Portia, Mum. It’s a hassle having to FaceTime someone when you’re out and about.”

“Still, you should be outside.”

Y/N was about to say something when Portia interrupted her. “Y/N is outside all the time, Mum. She’s outside hours on end working with H. Styles, aren’t you, babe?”

It wasn’t often Portia stood up for Y/N. They both knew that their mother wouldn’t listen to reason unless Portia was the one delivering it. Which didn’t happen often, but moments like these, when Portia actually spoke up for Y/N when their Mother wouldn’t have it, it made Y/N appreciate her sister in a way nothing else could.

“Yeah,” Y/N answered, giving Portia a small smile only the sister knew what meant. Thank you. “I spend most of my days outside, don’t worry.”

“Hope you do, air is good for you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Y/N sighed, placing the camera on the kitchen counter as she made her iced tea.

“What’re you up to today?” Portia asked, wanting to steer the conversation in another direction.

She was about to tell them what she was actually going to do. About to tell them how Harry had promised to take her to La Spezia, the biggest town close to Fosdinovo. That they would most likely go to dinner there and he would drive them back to Fosdinovo so he could work some more on his paintings. But before that, he’d take her to bed and they’d get tangled in the sheets, sweat, whimpers, and each other. That she’d most likely spend the night with him. She didn’t tell them that. Didn’t tell them how close she and H. Styles had gotten. Didn’t tell them she loved him. Didn’t tell them she’d never felt as whole yet free as when she was with him.

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

Portia raised her eyebrows. “You zoned out for a sec there.”

“Oh. Sorry.” She cleared her throat, mixing her iced tea. “I’m not doing much. Maybe taking a stroll through town, say hi to Rin, Meo, and Carina.”

“Carina is the one who got married, yeah?”

Elaine frowned. “Married?”

“I told you, Mum,” Portia said, looking over at Elaine. “Y/N went to that wedding and the bloke turned out to be a complete nutter. Anyway,” she glanced back at Y/N. “Did Carina ever leave him?”

“Think they’re signing the divorce papers soon. I’m glad she decided to leave him.”

Portia groaned, leaning her head against the back of the sofa. “You’ve given me more goss this summer than I could’ve hoped for. How dull it’s going to be getting back to work again.”

“Aren’t you looking forward to it?” Y/N asked, walking back over to her kitchen table.

“In a way, but it’s been very nice to have you do all the work for me.”

Y/N chuckled; Portia joined in. Her face suddenly grew very serious and she looked at something in her lap. Elaine got up and walked off, having chores to get to and Portia waited till their Mum was out of earshot before she spoke again.

“I never thanked you properly.”

“For what?”

“For doing this for me.” She glanced at Y/N again. “It’s meant heaps. You always do these things and I take it for granted.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, stirring the metal straw around in the tea. “You do.”

“I’m sorry.” Portia sighed. “I don’t mean it.”

“I know you don’t.”

Portia gave Y/N a small smile. “Will you ever forgive me for it?”

“For…?”

“For treating you like shit. For expecting you to do things for me.”

Y/N smiled back at her, taking a long sip of her old tea. “Just please don’t do it again and we’ll be fine.”

“I promise.” Portia nodded, sounding relieved, as if she’d thought of this for a long while now. “I won’t send you off to Italy for an entire summer to work with a grumpy painter ever again.” She laughed, but Y/N had to force her own. If Portia had never gotten herself injured, then Y/N would never have met Harry; would never have fallen in love; would never have loved as foolishly and completely as she did now. But the summer was coming to a close. Would it all have been for nothing in the end? Would she have fallen in love only to be forced out of it?

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

Portia huffed. “What’s with you today? You’re not paying attention.”

“Sorry,” Y/N shook her head. “Go on. What were you saying?”

Harry placed the brush in her hand, enclosing her fingers around it before he brought it to the canvas. Trying her best not to disappoint him, she bit her lip, leaning her head against Harry’s as she concentrated on the painting.

“That’s it.” He mumbled, guiding her hand.

“Is it okay?”

“Well, I’m steering your hand so I’m basically painting. It’s brilliant.”

She nudged his shoulder, giggling a little and Harry looked at her, smiling. The two were sat on a small piano bench outside, Harry’s easel before them and an almost white canvas placed neatly on it. Y/N was wearing one of the tee shirts she’d left at Harry’s over the week and Harry had put on his dungarees, the cool evening air a refreshing break from the suffocating heat of day. Since they’d come home and shared their first kiss of the day, night had surrounded them again, and they had shagged multiple times before making their way to the balcony upstairs. They were so desperate for one another that it took everything out of both of them to hold back till they got home, so when they were completely alone, they simply could not help themselves. It felt right being together like this, without filters, without apology; just them.

“Look,” Harry took the brush from her hand, dipping it in some more orange and running it over the canvas. “To paint a sunset, you start with the colours of the sky. What colours you think will fit best?”

“What’re we painting?”

Harry huffed a small chuckle. “A sunrise.”

“Orange and maybe even some yellow.” Y/N answered, tilting her head as she watched him fill the blankness with more colour. “Oh, and blue! But just a tad.”

“You’re imagining a very sunny morning then?”

“A sunny morning in Essex.” Y/N smiled, looking at him. “The most beautiful sight in the world, if I may say so.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, putting the brush away and placing his hand on her thigh, turning to face her.

“Uh-huh.” Her smile widened some as he moved closer to her, brushing his nose gently against hers.

“I can think of more beautiful sights than a sunrise in bleeding Essex.”

She huffed, turning away from him to look at the painting. A slight noise of complaint left Harry’s throat and he put his finger to her chin, guiding her face till her lips were right in front of his. At the feel of his breath against her skin, all hairs on her body rose. She wanted to move closer to him, to kiss him, but she wanted to see what would happen if she held back. Harry had come to make the first move quite often since they started… whatever they’d started. But she quite liked it when he took control. He so rarely let himself have control over anything that wasn’t his profession. Though he seemed to take great pleasure in taking control of Y/N and them every once in a while. Y/N liked that very much.

“You haven’t seen one, how can you say that?” she inquired, raising her eyebrows to challenge him.

“Because an Essex sunrise would pale next to my standards of the most beautiful sights in the world.” Harry mumbled, rubbing his nose against hers as he closed his eyes.

She smiled. “Which is?”

He smiled too, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It felt like touching silk, tasted like a lifetime, and Y/N couldn’t get enough of it. She leaned into him, breathing him in. It felt so familiar, so right. As he pulled away, pressing a kiss to her nose, they both opened their eyes at the same time. She bit her lip, resting her head on his shoulder as he turned back to the painting. He dipped the brush in some yellow, spreading it out over and just below the orange.

“Did I ever tell you about my dreams?” Harry asked suddenly.

“What dreams?”

“Those I’ve had of you.”

A tingling sensation, excitement mixed with confusion, filled Y/N’s chest and she sat upright, looking at him. “I’ve… been in your dreams?”

“Multiple times.”

There was something so intimate, Y/N remarked, about hearing of your visit into someone else’s mind and dreams. Knowing you’d somehow been on their mind and made it into their unconscious state was flattering in a way a mere compliment could never live up to. It was beyond that. Harry put more paint on the brush before he took her hand again, guiding her hand over the canvas.

“Elaborate, please.” Y/N pleaded, biting her lip as she could make out Harry looking at her in her peripheral vision.

Harry cleared his throat a little, clearly just figuring out what he’d gotten himself into. With a curiosity like Y/N’s, she would demand every single little detail. He wasn’t hesitant to give them all to her though, it was just a matter of putting words to moments in his head and dreams that he had otherwise, till now, kept to himself.

“Most of my paintings are born from dreams.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he dipped the brush in more paint, letting her mix it with the orange on the page. “I get these moments in time, like watching something in slow motion almost.”

“They inspire you?”

“Yeah, it’s like a situation or a person inspire a songwriter to write a song.” Harry explained, letting go of her hand. “My dreams and… ultimately, you have inspired most of mine.”

She felt her cheeks heat up a bit. “Did you dream of me every time before a new painting?”

“Not in the beginning. I had most of them planned out.” He admitted, and though Y/N felt her heart sink a little at that, she still knew that she hadn’t been able to stand his person in the beginning as well. She couldn’t blame him. “But as time went on, you appeared in most of my dreams. The plan I had for my collection changed after I got to know you.”

She stopped painting, looking at him. “The collection’s changed?”

Harry was about to say something when there came knocking from the front door, soon followed by Jamie’s loud shouts. “Harry!” they called. “I know you’re on the balcony, mate!”

Harry sighed, glancing at the painting before meeting Y/N’s eyes again. “I’ll be right back.”

 She didn’t get a nod in before Harry was off the piano seat and walking down the stairs to let Jamie in. After everything, Harry had started locking his front door the second after closing it, without fail. He didn’t let anyone into his house, and if someone paid him a visit – which people rarely did – he would usually not leave them alone in a room. Y/N understood his weariness, and though she hated seeing his trust having been bruised like this, she wasn’t about to explain to him that there was no use. The only person in this town who would dare to do something like that was now in jail a few towns over, meaning Harry and his paintings were safe. But that was easier understood from an outside perspective than an inside one. Harry would have his guard up for people he met and let into his life from now on. It was only Y/N he allowed full access to all of himself. He wasn’t ashamed or scared of letting her in. She felt so honoured to be part of his life like this.

Y/N heard Harry let Jamie in, and instantly, the two started chatting. Their voices were heated right off the bat, but it was like they didn’t want her to hear, their voices sounded like angry whispered hisses of sorts. Y/N places the paintbrush in the glass of water, getting up and walking slowly toward the staircase leading downstairs. Maybe she would hear what they were talking about better that way. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I swear,” Jamie said, listening in on what must be the middle of their conversation. “It’s like you don’t even understand what I’m trying to tell you.”

“That’s exactly what’s going on.”

Jamie groaned, the next part he said inaudible. Y/N stepped over the floorboard that she had come to learn was a bit creaky, and walked down the set of stairs to be closer to the two talking.

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Jamie said, trying to keep their voice down.

“Which part?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Harry, don’t try and act innocent now.”

There was a pause, like the two had a sort of staring contest, daring the other one to say something. Y/N put her hands on the railing, biting her lip in anticipation of them starting to talk again. She heard Viola meowing downstairs and Harry sighing heavily, probably picking her up as he always did. He liked having her close. Just yesterday she’d taken her cast off and though she’d gotten used to not having it in a matter of a few hours, Y/N and Harry both liked carrying her. Y/N didn’t want the little cat to be at hers alone, so she’d brought her here. There wasn’t much in Y/N’s flat anyway now, almost everything was packed, ready for Friday.

“Y/N is upstairs, if you could-“

“-I know Y/N is upstairs.”

They fell quiet again, and Y/N wondered why Jamie’s voice sounded so harsh. What was going on? Had something happened?

“Harry, you can’t…” Jamie trailed off, groaning a little in what must be frustration.

“Can’t what?”

“I don’t want to have to say it.”

A slight pause before Harry growled, “Then don’t.” It was like he knew what Jamie was going to tell him. Y/N wished she did. She leaned a little more over the railing, willing them to speak up and put words to the situation.

“I think I might have to.” Jamie sighed. “Harry, you can’t-“

“-Jamie, I swear to God-“

“-You can’t shag your client.”

The house fell quiet once again and Y/N suddenly wished she hadn’t eavesdropped. Her heart sunk, sending a pain running through her entire body like one she’d never known before. Viola meowed again, Harry clearly having put her down on the ground again.

“Why?”

“You know why, Harry.” Jamie sounded defeated. Y/N had never imagined Jamie to act like this, but then again, listening to what they had to say, she understood. “It’s unprofessional.”

Harry huffed.

“What, H?”

“It’s unprofessional to fall in love?”

There was a slight pause before, “No, it’s unprofessional to go against the contract you yourself made Y/N and Portia sign.”

“Enlighten me.”

There was a rustling of papers as Jamie had clearly come prepared. “Want me to read you her contract or the agreement?”

“Aren’t they the same? They’ve both come back to bloody haunt me.-“

“-‘This agreement is made on the date of last signature below between: 1) The Employer: Harry Edward Styles, of Via Mizzani 1, Fosdinovo-“

“-I know my own fucking address, Jamie.-“

“-2) The Employee: Y/N Venus Sweeney, of 43 Overstone Road, Hammersmith, London, W6 0A-“

“-Jamie-“

“-The relationship between the two parties is to be strictly professional in nature, non-existent.’” There was a pause as Jamie ruffled through some more papers. “’The employee is not to distract the employer. They are not to form a bond outside the confines of the painting sessions.’” Jamie sighed. “Harry, you made this yourself. You decided on this contract and the agreement. There are tons more about her needing to ensure she’s not distracting you, how she’s not to come to your house, not to talk to you whilst you’re painting, not to invade your personal space, not to ask questions-“

“-I fucking get it.”

There was a slight bang, as if Jamie had slammed their hand onto the stack of papers on a table surface. “Do you, Harry?”

Silence sounded again, just Viola’s small paws against the metal staircase as she walked upwards toward Y/N. Viola meowed as she saw her, Y/N put a finger to her lips begging her not to make any noise. This whole situation was bad enough as it was without the wo downstairs knowing she was listening in.

“Can’t you just ruin the contract and the agreement, make another? I made these so I should be able to make a new contract.”

“People will find out, Harry.”

“How?”

“Because they always do. Especially when you’re a massive painter and people, tabloids, news reporters, all know your name.”

Harry groaned. “Then what will you have me do?”

There was a pause, as if Jamie was giving Harry some sort of look. Y/N bent down as Viola reached her, hugging her to her chest for comfort.

“No,” Harry growled. “No, Jamie.”

“You have to.”

“I’m not breaking it off with her.”

Jamie sighed. “It’s not a matter if you two want to or not; you have to. This isn’t what she’s here for, as is said in the contract. You didn’t want a relationship with her at all. People will find out about this, you will lose clients because of your unprofessionalism and your inability to keep to the rules of your own contract, and your success and reputation will be ruined. How are you supposed to listen to others and how are they supposed to take you seriously when you can’t even take yourself seriously enough to listen to your own words?”

Silence filled the house again; Y/N didn’t know what to do. She felt so helpless, so stupid. Viola purred against her, and Y/N wondered how someone could feel so content while the world of the person holding her was falling apart.

“I…” Harry stopped himself, clearing his throat some before he continued. “I must’ve forgotten.”

“If she’s in your bed right now, she’s undoubtedly forgotten as well.”

“Don’t fucking talk of her like that.” The words were venomous, telling them to watch their tone.

“This won’t just affect your career, Harry, it’s going to affect hers as well.”

This made Harry shut up, the quiet that followed was filled with agony. They had both been so blinded by the fact that Y/N would be leaving Italy and Harry soon that they hadn’t even thought of anything else. The contract she had been told to sign and what it had said, it had slipped Y/N’s mind. In truth, she didn’t properly read through it, thinking it couldn’t possibly be that strict and bad. Turns out it was, and now the two of them would have to live with the consequences. They couldn’t be.

“You know I want nothing but the best for you, Harry. Always have. That’s why I’m still here, why I’m working with you. You’re my best mate.” Jamie said, Harry sighing heavily at their words. “I don’t want to see you fail.”

“How about happy?”

“What?”

“You said you don’t want to see me fail; do you want to see me happy?” Harry asked. “I’ve not smiled as much as I have in the months she’s been here, then the entire year since the Salvatore incident. Or the years prior when I lived, worked, breathed completely alone.”

Jamie clicked their tongue. “I want to see you happy, but I want to find a way for you to be happy and still be able to paint for a living.”

“And I won’t be able to do that if I continue to be with Y/N?”

“No!” Jamie shouted, not caring anymore if Y/N could hear them or not. “You’ll be fucking miserable! I know you well enough to tell you this: without your work, without painting, you’ll be fucking miserable, Harry. If you flake on your own contract, what does that say about future professional relationships?”

Silence.

“You know I’m right.”

“Don’t fucking rub it in, Jamie.” Harry said, voice as low as Y/N remembered it to be when he was out of his mind angry. “Leave, please.”

Jamie let out a small groan. “Harry, don’t do this-“

“-Leave!” he repeated. “We’re not… doing this now.”

“Then when?”

Y/N heard Harry’s bare feet against the floor, already making his way towards the stairs. She quickly started walking up towards the loft with Viola against her chest still.

“In three days.”

“Why three days?”

“Because I said so!”

Y/N sat down by the easel, putting Viola down on the ground beside her, and pretending not to have listened at all. She heard the front door slam shut and Harry’s frustrated sigh as he reached the loft again. He stopped at the top of the stairs and she felt his eyes on her back, felt his frustration.

She knew why Harry wanted to talk to Jamie in three days. Knew why he was postponing it. She was leaving in three days. On that very Friday morning, she would say bye to Harry, be driven to the airport by a driver she’d never met, and probably never see Harry again. And she knew exactly where Jamie was coming from. Even when Harry sat down next to her, pretending not to have argued with Jamie minutes earlier about her and their relationship, Y/N was unable to think about anything else. Jamie was right. Harry and Y/N could simply not be together.

Thursday, 15 August 2019

All her stuff was at Harry’s. It would be easier for the driver to come to his place as the road by Y/N’s flat was very narrow and a nightmare to find a way out of unless you were driving a moped. It was the morning of her departure and Y/N had lied awake for a couple of hours, not wanting to move or get out of bed. She needed to take a bath before travelling to the airport, fully aware that because of the stress of her leaving as well as anxiety of never seeing Harry again, she’d been sweating more than usual that night.

Beside her, she hadn’t heard Harry all night. He usually breathed heavily, not quite snoring, but you would definitely know he was asleep if you ever heard him. She wondered if he’d slept lightly or not at all. Either way, she hated that she might be the cause of that. As she glanced over at him, his gaze was fixed on the ceiling overhead, deep in his thoughts. She didn’t want to disturb him or to break him out of his reverie if he was thinking of something important. Just barely, she could feel his hand in her hair, fingers running along her scalp in a soothing manner. If she hadn’t been so set on the fact that she was dreading leaving, she would’ve fallen back asleep.

Y/N sat up, about to get out of bed and walk to Harry’s bathroom when-

“-Where are you going?”

She looked down at him, his eyes fixed on her now. “Need to take a bath before I leave.”

Harry nodded slightly, and she was about to try and leave bed again when he took a grip of her wrist, sliding his hand down to hold hers. She waited for him to say something, but instead he just looked at her hand in his, stroking his thumb tenderly over her.

“Harry.”

“I need a date.” He suddenly blurted out. “I need to know the exact date I’ll get to see you next after this.”

She bit her lips together, glancing down at their hands as well. “I’ll be in London or Essex; you know where to find me, you have my addresses.”

“I do, but…” he paused, frowning. “I’ll only be in London for a week, max. And that’s at the end of tour. Six months away.”

“And I need to focus on my studies.” Y/N said, aware that if she was going to knock some sense into both her and Harry, she had to be harsh about it.

Harry’s frown deepened and he looked up at her. “I know that. I’m not telling you not to, it’s important.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He sat up as well, wanting to get a closer look at her. “Y/N.”

Her glance didn’t waver from their joined hands.

“Celeste.” He squeezed her hand some, making her look at him. She couldn’t help herself when he called her that. “We’re going to be okay.”

She looked away again, feeling her eyes sting. Why did Harry get her to feel so much all at once? She was both filled to the brim with the loveliest feelings in the whole entire world, but she also felt her chest about give out, like an oncoming earthquake that would shake her up and cause havoc for weeks, months, years to come.

Harry’s grip on her loosened. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“There’s more than that.”

She was quiet.

“Y/N-“

“-I heard yours and Jamie’s conversation the other day.” She looked at him again, and the instant she did, she saw sadness appear at the corners of his lips and desperation pooling somewhere in his eyes. “About the contracts.”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

“They’re right, Harry.”

“No,” he brought her hand into his lap, holding it tightly. “How can you say that?”

“Didn’t you hear what they were trying to tell you?”

“Yes, I did.” Harry said, eyes meeting hers. “But how can you say that?”

She furrowed her brows, exhaling slowly.

“If you feel even half of what I’m feeling, how can you say that?” Harry held her hand to his lips, not leaving a kiss there or anything alike, he just left it there as a reassurance that she was still with him. She hadn’t left yet. His eyes fell to the bed again. “I refuse to let you leave me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re never going to see each other again.” He said, sighing heavily against her hand. “Y/N, why are you saying this?”

“Because,” she blinked a few times, willing the tears away. “I’m trying to be realistic.”

“You don’t think we’re it?”

“I think I signed a contract months ago not knowing I would ultimately come to catch feelings for the person who wrote it.”

He looked over at her. “What does that matter?”

She sighed again. “Harry-“

“-How does it matter in the slightest?” he asked, moving closer to her and resting their hands against her chest so he could feel her heartbeat. “How does anything matter besides how much we feel for one another? Love is stronger, greater, truer than anything else, and no matter what the world throws its way, it will win. Love will always win.”

She felt her eyesight get blurrier. “How can you say that for certain? There are countless stories of people who were meant to be but couldn’t be ‘cause of circumstances.”

“And I’m sorry for them,” Harry said, a sad crease appearing between his brows as he saw the effect his words had on her. “But most of them at least tried to fight.”

She exhaled shakily.

“I’m ready to fight for us, Y/N. For you.”

She sobbed. “For me?”

“I wouldn’t even hesitate.”

Biting her lips together, she just looked at him, willing her racing heart and her blurry sight to calm down.

“There is absolutely no limit to what I would do… the lengths I would go…” he moved closer again, resting his forehead against hers. “Celeste, you have to believe that what I feel for you is larger than my mere existence.” He squeezed her hand. “It transcends my single body, it’s more than a simple human lifetime. I understand why people say love can change the world. If felt strong enough, it’s the greatest emotion and tool of the entire universe. It can be someone’s pillar and their downfall.”

She held onto him tighter.

“Don’t let it be our downfall, Y/N. I beg you.”

There was absolutely not a single part of her that wanted to leave. She wanted to stay in Fosdinovo with Harry till they were both grey and old, she wanted to stay here forever. As Harry had said, they were it. Why couldn’t she just tell him she felt it too? That she too knew that no matter who she met after Harry, no matter the attraction or how compatible they were, Y/N would never feel about them the same way she felt about Harry. No one could ever match him, and it would be dumb to even try.

But when would they meet next? Would they be able to stand the distance? Not talking for a few days? They’d basically spent all summer in each other’s company, how did they know a life without the other in it after this? Y/N was sure her love for Harry could conquer everything, but loving someone was different from surviving without them. Her love would still be there, even if they weren’t and never would be.

Letting go of one last sigh, Y/N got up from the bed, and walked to the bathroom. She knew Harry was watching her, and knew she needed to get about her bath before the driver arrived and she had to leave. She closed the door, crouching down beside the bath and turning the water on, checking it was the perfect temperature before she put the plug in, spreading some of her soap in the rising water. She waited, not trying to let her mind wander back to Harry alone in his bed. How she had just left him after that. How he didn’t want them to end things. But how she knew herself that it would be incredibly hard to wait six months before she got to see him again. It would be better for both of them if they just ripped off the band-aid right away instead of slowing the process down.

She got into the bathtub, sliding down the back of it, and closed her eyes. The warm water embraced her, offering a last sort of comfort before she would have to leave. She thought back on her summer. Let the memories wash over her. Sitting there, she tried to understand how this had all come about. How she had fallen in love with a painter who had treated her like nothing but shit the first few weeks of her stay here. How that same painter was a completely different person now. How he wanted her to believe in him and what they had enough to survive time and space. And she was sure their love for one another would. But at some point, time and space was too much and the lack of the presence of the other wasn’t much so.

She was terrified, she had to admit. There was not a single soul she had cared for or loved as much as Harry, and that alone mortified her. Harry had said so himself; their love was bigger than themselves, it was something more. Just by pressing her skin against his, Y/N felt like they were creating entire galaxies. Together they had made something bigger than themselves, something neither of them knew how to properly control if they weren’t together. So what would six months do? Seven months? A year?

Slowly, the door to the bathroom opened, revealing Harry to her. He was wearing his dungarees, something she had come to associate with him along with his pink Converse. She looked up at him, waiting for him to walk inside and do whatever he had thought of doing. What she hadn’t expected, was for Harry to sit down beside the bathtub. He reached for her cheek, caressing her so gently it felt like feathers against her skin. Gradually he reached for her neck, begging her to meet him halfway. And she did. It was the kind of kiss that held a promise. Y/N wasn’t sure what kind of promise it was or why it made her feel both hopeful and sad, but she clung to it. Both her hands rested at each of Harry’s cheeks, holding him to her. All his words earlier tattooed themselves to her memory, her brain, her heart. She would never forget them or the person who said them. This summer had brought her tenderness and thousands of lessons learned, but most importantly, it had brought her Harry, and for that she would forever be grateful.

Harry slid his hand down her shoulder, caressing her breast, into the hot water, and sliding his hand over her tummy. She kissed him harder as he reached lower, as he slid his middle and ring finger between her folds. Letting out a breathy moan, she let the feeling of Harry’s long fingers against her ever-growing sensitive bud take over everything she knew. The thought of Harry just wanting to please her without needing her to give anything back to him like most idiot men did, was everything to her. He just wanted to please her; just wanted to see her come, to see her smile and happy. It made her feel so incredibly much love for him all at once that the butterflies in her tummy went crazy. They flew into her core, flying in a circle so fast and creating a low hum of pleasure between her legs. She closed her eyes, relishing in Harry’s careful movements, letting him take complete control of her. When she opened her eyes again, looking straight into his though the sight was a little blurry, she could tell he hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a single second. He had watched her as her desire and desperation for him rose, as she started moving her hips ever so slightly to get that familiar spark of pleasure running through her.

As his mouth fell open at the sight of her, Y/N suddenly became very aware of just how much she ached for him. Her cunt was slick and very hot as Harry felt her out, and though she was in a bathtub and most areas were already wet, being turned on and ready for someone was a completely different kind. He no doubt felt her need for him rise. Staring at her the way he did, Y/N was sure he was savouring this moment just like she was. He wanted her to get off just so he could remember how well he was able to please her; so he could look back on this moment and her; so he could remember them this way forever. Being wet and desperate for him like this, every little sensation she felt was heightened, especially her clit and hole. A whimper left her lips, spilling onto Harry’s that hovered over hers.

“Yeah?” he said. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes.” She breathed, not being able to help herself as he pushed his two fingers into her.

With his other hand, Harry took a grip of her hair, holding her face to his as he slid his fingers in and out of her. Though Harry loved getting her off, he usually did so with his tongue and not his fingers alone. They would rather get to it and fuck each other, as they had done senselessly and passionately for a week now. They moved so well together, fit together so well it almost felt meant to be. Nothing felt more right and certain than being with Harry, yet it was wrong and it would require time and strength and patience. How was it that all good things came with a prize? Wasn’t it hard enough that you had to search for your soulmate, but when you found them, they were hard or impossible to be with? Life would always found something and throw it in the way of a person’s wants.

She closed her eyes again, hearing the water splash around her as Harry started moving his hand harder. Pounding her deeper and making sure to get her exactly right. He knew the right buttons to press now, knew the small tricks and what would make her scream if he wanted her to. She loved how well he knew her. Loved that he had cared to even learn the small things about her, what would have her arch her back and repeat his names at the top of her lungs. Loved that he knew how she preferred her breakfast, her favourite drink, colour, her daily routines, and her sense of style. Loved that he had taken the effort to get to know her like she had done to him. She would never forget the small things about him.

“Stay,” he whispered, voice almost breaking. “And if you won’t stay, wait for me.”

She moaned, opening her eyes to look at him. Her grip on the hair at his neck and forearm tightened as the tension in her core did the same. She moved with him and her movements were frantic, needing the friction to increase and the fire in her lower stomach to build up into a huge explosion of pleasure. Water spilled everywhere, and Harry didn’t care in the least. Didn’t even bat an eye when he heard it hit his tiles. All her nerves perked up, a climax not far off.

“Y/N,” Harry mumbled. “Say something.”

She gripped him harder. “Harry.”

He tightened his hold on her hair, bringing her closer to him, moving his fingers a little faster. He was driving her completely mad. Absolutely mental. He knew that gripping her hair like that, moving the way he did, he would cause a reaction from her.

“Stay.”

“Baby, you know I can’t.” She said, moaning loudly.

He curled his fingers, fucking her harder and faster, letting her frantic state grow. She breathed harshly, gasping. He was hitting that exact spot that was like throwing fuel into a flame, because Y/N felt nothing but her orgasm just then.

“Then wait for me.” He said, voice low and desperate. “Please, Celeste.”

The bubble was about to burst, the pleasure inside of her was like white noise in her ears. Nothing but the feeling of Harry’s fingers, the hot water around her, his hand in her hair, breath mingling with hers, nothing else mattered. He was here, making sure she left him knowing what he could give her and more.

“I’ll wait for you.” He said, leaning down and kissing her neck. “Please, wait for me.”

She leaned her head against his, nails digging into his skin, frantic because the orgasm she was about to have would undoubtedly make her legs and entire world shake.

“Come for me, baby.” He mumbled against her, kissing her jaw. “Come. Only for me.”

She breathed harshly and moaned a little too loudly, but she could not control herself. She gasped. It ran up her spine, her torso, down her thighs, and to her fingertips that was clinging to Harry. She felt it everywhere, like it radiated off her entire body. It was like magic had found a place to hide inside her, running through her like every incredible sensation the world had to offer. The orgasm toned down in waves and Y/N only realised once she opened her eyes again that her legs had been shaking.

Harry lifted his head, letting go of her hair and sliding his fingers out of her. He leaned forward, giving her a desperate kiss. She felt it in every cell of her body. Everything within her was reaching for him, not wanting to leave but knowing that she had to. There was a life waiting for her back home, an important one at that, and she simply could not cut that part of her life off because she wanted to stay in Fosdinovo with Harry. They breathed harshly against one another and as Harry pulled away, a small whimper left Y/N’s lips, begging him to kiss her again. He did, just as hard and passionate as the time before. But suddenly he got up, walked out of the bathroom, and left her alone to get cleaned up and dressed. It was a mere 15 minutes till the driver would be here after all.

She got ready. Putting her clothes on, fixing her hair, and making sure she didn’t look as sad as she felt. But in the middle of getting ready, she heard honking outside, and everything within her sank. It was time. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, willing herself to calm down. She couldn’t walk downstairs a weeping mess. The driver would be horrified and Harry would never let her leave if she was crying. She walked out of the bathroom, but her suitcases weren’t there. Instantly, she knew Harry had carried them down, and she wasn’t sure if she appreciated him doing it or despised him for not letting her do it herself so she could stay there a few minutes longer.

“Sweeney?” asked the driver as she got downstairs.

Y/N gave him a smile. “Yes, sir.” Looking past him, she saw Harry putting the last of her stuff in the boot of the car, a look on his face that could either be of concentration or of restraint to show what he was actually feeling. Harry shut the boot, giving the driver a small nod as they walked down the front stairs and to the driver’s seat.

Y/N stepped outside, letting the Italian summer sun hit her one last time and for once not detesting the fact it hurt her eyes. Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her as she made her way down. His dungarees were still wet, but it was already starting to dry in the heat of morning.

She let go of a heavy sigh as she reached him. “Harry-“

But she stopped herself as he took her hand in his. “Don’t.” He said lowly. “It’ll only make this harder.”

She nodded, very aware that it would be. Whatever either of them said now would make it harder. But what made it even worse was Harry bringing her hand up, and kissing it as tenderly as he had done that first time. Slowly he turned her hand around, kissing it just as softly and bringing tears to Y/N’s eyes that she had tried to hard to keep at bay. Their eyes met and as he saw how glassy hers were, something in his face changed. Before he could reach up and try and console her, something that would make everything worse times ten, Y/N walked past him and to the car. She closed the door, put her seatbelt on and glanced out the window at Harry who had turned around, not taking his eyes off her for a single second.

The engine roared to life, the driver stepped on the pedal, and away they went. Her heart was racing, unable to believe that she was leaving Fosdinovo for good now. The village she had spent all summer in, that she had come to love. The cat she considered a great friend, and the other actual human beings that had made a huge impact on her. Possibly the love of her life. She was leaving it all behind. And as she felt a tear roll down her cheek, she knew that no matter what, nothing would mend the loss of any of it.

She swore she heard her name being called somewhere behind them, like a desperate plea somewhere in the cloud of dust the car made along the country roads. But as she turned around to look out the back window, hoping to see him there, she saw nothing. It must’ve only been a figment of her imagination. She turned back around and went home to England.

NEXT UPDATE: 1st March 2020, 9PM GMT

a huge thanks to my lovely beta readers!

💙 @aileenacoustic​ 💙 @emotionally-imbruised​ 💙 @fromyourstrulyh​ 💙

[modestlyabsurd]

An Old Memory (Loki x Reader)

A quaint, modest home nearly a century old with a faint aura of history. Curtains still flowing across windows, pinned back to allow yellow sunlight into the kitchen. Upon looking, one could feel the hustle and bustle of happy company, smell the coffee steeping in the old pot that shouldn't possibly still work, and see a young woman preparing Thanksgiving dinner for her small family. Huddled around the stove, watching her movements as well as the pumpkin pie she mixed, were young and old children alike. The woman let the youngest of the three lick the spoon before shooing them from the heated oven.

He opened his eyes from the distant memory.

Now, the home smelt simply of cleanliness and very light perfume that had not been misted in some time. The stovetop and surrounding countertops had a thin layer of dust upon them. The floors were clean, the air was a medium temperature due to proper cooling of the home. He looked around, walked quietly, into the living room. It left a lingering touch; forgotten, almost. Furniture arranged for plenty of guests (of all ages, by the large chest of toys in the corner) a television, a computer.

All was there, except any life.

He went over to the wall and studied the framed faces hanging proudly. He recognized her in many of them. In one she donned a blue dress, gazing lovingly into a man's eyes. Her hand on his face, their foreheads touching. The man was much larger than her, holding her closely in a field of grass.

The next was her in mid-laughter, hugging a smiling baby to her face. Radiant, alive. The following photographs displayed somewhat of a timeline, as she is pictured with two growing children, one boy and one girl, as well as grandchildren.

He looked into each room, there being only three. Two were empty, used as storage space with boxes stacked in every corner. Before he reached the back bedroom, a key turned in the front door. It opened. He quickly made himself invisible.

A woman entered. She carried market bags, visibly filled with food, and set them heavily on the counter. He nearly mistakes her for her mother, before he can clearly see their small differences.

This girl had swimming blue eyes, light hair, and was of course clothed up to date. But her body language so eerily resembled ... alas. With beads of stress over her face, she emptied the bags, which contained enough prepared meals for days. She then went into a cabinet above her head, pulled down a transparent shallow box, and emptied something from it as well; all in a habitual motion.

"Mama?" She called out, filling a glass with water. "I brought you some lunch!" Her accent was so easily recognized, he no longer questioned the roles here.

The lively woman of roughly twenty or thirty Midgardian years of age bounced past him unknowingly, to the bedroom he had yet to see. He watched from a distance as she knocked on the open door before entering, going to the middle of the room where a bed sat and a person lay motionless.

"Wakey wakey Mama, you don't wanna miss the sunshine."

The ancient lady opened her small, heavy eyes. They looked around the room, before settling on the young lady beside her. "Hey Lillie," she said.

"Hey there!" Lillie smiled down at her aged mother. "It's lunch time, you know that?You asked for something soupy earlier, so I made you some homemade chicken noodle. I hope it's half as good as yours was," said Lillie, showing the bowl of soup. Then, she began to spoon feed her mother's lunch to her.

This, is what finally caused Loki's throat to become hard and dry.

Every spoonful, every bit, every sip of water. For nearly thirty minutes, making mundane conversation in between. He started to wonder where Lillie acquired the strength of heart and mind to complete these grievous tasks. In his own mind, he could never do such things for even those closest to him.

Little by little, Lillie fed her mother until she began eating slower and slower. Eventually, she wouldn't open her mouth to the food. "You full now? Must've liked it, heck, there's hardly any left!" Lillie laughed.

"It was scrump-dilly-umptious. Thank you baby," she responded, taking the cloth laid under her chin and blotting her lips.

Lillie smiled, "You don't have to thank me Mama. I'm just happy to hear it was worth eating. Now we gotta take your medicine, okay?" Lillie took the tablets she'd placed on the bedside table along with the remaining water in her glass. "Alright, I'm gonna put 'em in there, then you swallow 'em with the water, okay? Ready?" And she did.

For another hour the two generations spoke of nature, current Midgardian events and random pieces of life's perspectives. Loki remained invisible to them for the duration, keeping his pained emotions inside until Lillie left.

After that, with caution, he uncloaked himself and stood in the doorway, watching the circle of human life taking its course. This was a cruel curse, he deemed, certainly cast upon the wrong person. She fell in and out of sleep, small sounds escaping her throat occasionally. Loki didn't know how long he had left.

With some uncertainty, he calls out her name.

She opened her eyes, and scanned around the room once more. Her gaze fell upon the strange man clothed in green armor. "Who's there?" her delicate voice asked.

Loki cleared his throat. "Loki," he paused, "of Asgard."

Her brow furrowed, as the name and vocals didn't register. "Loki? I, I don't know a Loki."

He entered slowly, careful with his steps, and careful not to startle the frail woman he once knew quite well. He sat in the chair that Lillie sat in before, by Y/N's bedside. Her confused eyes followed him intently; guarded. He recalled those eyes. Bright, squinting ever so slightly when she smiled or laughed. Now overshadowed by soft, wrinkled skin; the captivating brightness somehow remained in her irises.

Loki gently took her hand from her side, feeling it tremble. "You don't remember me, darling?" a smile ghosted his lips as they locked gazes. "I don't believe my appearance has changed drastically. Yours certainly hasn't either."

"Loki," she paused, trailing off into deep thought. She nodded, "It rings a bell. And I suppose you look a little familiar."

"Think back to when you were eighteen. You once had a dream that you'd left Midg- er, Earth, and ascended into another world. Do you remember that?"

Staring straight ahead - confused, worried, but beginning to recall - she nodded. "Yeah, yeah I do. There was people there, and... and it wasn't much different than Earth. They talked funny, kinda like you are right now."

"Yes," Loki breathed, holding her hand closer to him. "And on the journey back to Earth, the BiFrost began to crumble. Someone caught you before you fell to the abyss. Do you remember?"

"Yeah," she exclaimed as the emotions of this event washed over her once again. "The one everybody told me to be scared of, and I was. I was scared of him from the things I'd heard. He'd apparently killed a whole lot of people, and hurt twice as many. He was some kind of royalty there." She swallowed, "but a fight broke out on the bridge to Earth, and it started to break and I fell. But somebody grabbed my wrists before I was too far. I, I saw him. I screamed for my life, 'cause it was him. The one they'd told me about. Loki, that was his name. After that, I  stayed with him there for a little while longer and got to know him and, and," she trailed off. Her eyes darted back to the dark man beside of her. "It was you!"

Loki laughed and kissed her small knuckles. "Indeed. Though it was not a dream, my darling."

She glanced at her hand, Loki drawing over her protruding veins with his ghostly pale thumbs. To make sure this wasn't a dream either, she raised it, pressed her palm to his cheek. It was cold. Just as it used to be.

Everything began pouring back to Y/N as her medication took effect. She remembered accidentally winding up in another planet, another realm, though she didn't quite remember how she got there. That of course didn't matter at the moment as joy flooded her mind and body upon seeing Loki once again; sixty-something years later.

"Well I'll be. You're just as handsome as I remember you, Loki."

"And you are still the most beautiful, charming, most notably intriguing Midgardian I've ever had the pleasure of meeting."

She was at a loss for words, the same effect he used to create upon her.

"I saw your daughter. Beautiful, full of life and strength of character. Like her mother."

"Lillie?" Y/N said, "Oh boy, she's something else. I, I don't know what I did to deserve such amazing kids. Taking all that time to come out here and take care of me every day. My son'll be out here by dinner time. Said he's gonna bring my granddaughter with him."

"You're a grandmother," Loki whispered to himself, in awe. "So many things have happened since our short time together. I think of it quite often now."

"Yeah," Y/N sighed, "I did too. Before my mind started leaving me. You know I'd have married you if the laws of physics allowed it."

Shaking his head, he thought back to those times, his actions. "I wanted nothing more than to marry you, my dear. But, as can be seen now," he laughs shortly, "it was not meant to be that way. You were still given a family, just as you always wanted and very well deserved." Loki looked off into the air, a smile painted on his face. "We used to discuss our futures back then. My wishes proved to be far more complicated than your own. I always wanted authority, or, equality, while you simply wished for happiness."

They locked eyes once again. Y/N could listen to Loki speak for hours on end. It was the few times like this that they shared, that she recalled so fondly after they separated. Him talking about anything and everything, in a proper soft spoken tone, unlike what she grew up around.

"Did your dreams come true, darling?"

"They did. After I came back home, I met my husband. For a while, though, all I could think about was you. How I couldn't be with you and all. I missed you real bad. But then he came along a couple years later. Stocky little blond-headed blue-eyed devil. But not at all like your brother. I think you'd have liked him."

"If I may ask, where is he now?" Loki asked, with the idea that he was treading on thin ice.

"Oh, he's been gone for years now. He was a good decade older than me, I think he was eighty-four? Eighty-five when he died? Died of cancer."

"My apologies."

"Oh, it was time. He was ready, and the family was too. He died a happy man." Loki couldn't help but think of the eighty-one-year-old white haired, fragile woman before him now, laying in her bed with little mobility. He shuddered it away for the moment, until her frail, aged voice interrupted such thoughts. "Did your hopes and dreams come true, Loki? I prayed they would."

Her small grip seemed to tighten a bit upon his hesitation to answer. Quite frankly, no. None of his dreams had come true. He was preparing for the war of his life and didn't see much of a happy ending in sight. But he found a source of sad, awful gratitude, in that his friend likely wouldn't suffer the consequences of said war. Not at this rate.

He refused to let her know the complete truth about this. Much like he'd always done, about everything. "No. Not yet, at least." He licks his lips, "But I was never the luckiest chap."

"Give yourself a break," says Y/N, looking straight into his eyes with the same bright sweetness he recalled so fondly. "You never know what's in store. You might think one thing's gonna happen, and then something totally different happens, but it turns out to be better than what you expected to begin with. Don't you have another thousand years or so left on you?"

Loki smiles sadly. A ray of sunshine pours through the window above Y/N's bed. "I suppose theoretically, yes. Nowadays I'm not so sure what my dreams are any more. To rule? To inherit? To love? To leave something behind besides a bad memory?Whenever I get to thinking about it too much it just ... smudges into a blur in my mind. Like a spilled pot of ink." He remembers exchanging letters with her years ago, after opening a passageway for them to do so. He remembers stopping as well. Allowing her letters to pile up on his desk within his prison cell, untouched. Unloved. Detached. How selfish he'd been to leave her without another word, reasonlessly.

The loosening of fingers around his cold hand jerks him back to reality, where the elderly woman's eyes fall closed and her hold slips away. Panicked, a cold sweat coating his neck, he grabs her wrist to feel for signs of life. A faint but steady pulse beats within her veins. He leans over her to listen for her breath, and it's there, in deep low snores. She's only fallen asleep.

Loki takes this to mean his time to reunite with Y/N has expired. Gently above creaking floorboards, he swallows down a wave of cries and stands; he notices the lines of concern on her forehead and kisses them, before silently bidding her farewell for the last time.

And on his way through the BiFrost back to Asgard, he allows himself to feel. The waves of light sweep away the tears, the whirring of speed muffles the cries. A series of realizations wash over him, but the most important being that something is about to give in the universe - and he's going to be part of it.

When he arrives at the base of the Asgardian palace, guards are lined up along the bridge's barriers. They bow. The gatekeeper Heimdall addresses him.

"Welcome back, Allfather Odin. I take it your journey was pleasant."

"Only as pleasant as a journey to Midgard can be."

~

memoriiiiiaaaaaa

hi hello thanks for reading this sad thing that's been hidden in my notes for years

tag list: @sydneyss-worlddd @afinedilemma @fire-in-her-veinz @belladonnabarnes @drakesfiance @internetgremlin @dragon-chica @sadwaywardkid @tarynkauai @triggeredpossum

[vivalaellie]

Here’s Some John Marston Trash

Pairing: John Marston x F!Reader

Summary: John broke some hearts during his year away from the gang.

Warnings: Mention of almost rape. Secret pregnancy? Not sure if that one counts. Just fluff and angst, really.

I’m supposed to be working on my fanfic with my OC but instead I wrote this and I’m sorry.

Did I even do this right?

The last few months felt surreal. Your life had changed so quickly and so drastically it felt like a dream; that any minute you were going to wake up… and he’d be gone.

The whole thing was crazy to begin with, you knew that. Widowed women didn’t move random gunslingers into their homes… let alone lay with them or dare you think it; love them. Hell, the very thought made you feel crazy, yet John was different.

You’d seen what he was capable of, how quickly and effortlessly he could put multiple men down with a flick of his revolver, though you’d also seen the man that was currently dozing beside you. 

He was ruthless and gentle, he was passionate and a little dopey you could admit, he was callous and sensitive. John Marston was a beautiful paradox in your eyes and everyday you feared he couldn’t be real. And if he was, how could you have been so fortunate to run into him? Any sane person would hardly consider being nearly raped and murdered fortunate, though you did because John Marston had seemingly appeared out of nowhere to save you. Three men, three bullets, and he was escorting you back to your empty, two room cabin to make sure you were well.

No, surely he was some elaborate fantasy your mind had created to cope with the tragedy your life had become. Widowed at such a young age, alone, starving...but you had your cabin. The cabin you called home, even though it was little more than four walls and a roof.

A flutter from deep inside of you brought your palm to your stomach. John had changed that too.

You weren’t even sure why he’d stuck around. You knew he was running from something, yet he’d told you little more than that he had been part of some gang and that he’d wanted out. Sure, there were the details a part of you yearned to know, then there was also the part of you that refused to look a gift horse in the mouth. John protected you, cared for you; a person that not even quite a year ago had been a complete stranger. Occasionally he’d ride into town, pick up a bounty to bring back some extra money and you would cook and take care of the animals he’d helped you buy. It wasn’t a lavish life, but for the first time in a long time it was a happy one.

Now, your heart ached with the weight of a secret you’d been fighting to keep from him for months. A secret that even now as you lay beside him wiggled softly inside of your tummy. You weren’t even sure how much longer you’d be able to conceal it; you were beginning to show and he’d already teased you about your growing appetite.

No, none of this could be real.

Gently, carefully, you reached a timid hand out to brush one of the many scars that adorned his back. You didn’t want to wake him, you just wanted the confirmation. The feel of his rough, warm skin was a welcoming relief and you couldn’t catch the sigh that escaped you.

He was real.

“You’re doin’ that thing again aren’t ya?” His low, raspy voice caught you off guard causing you to pull your hand back quickly. You couldn’t have known he was awake, his eyes were still closed as he lay hugging the pillow that had been his for the last eight months. 

It felt like so much longer.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as you’d been caught. You had awoke before him as you did most days and he always seemed to catch you admiring him as he slept. Of course he would always tease you about it.

“No,” you lay down quickly, tucking one arm beneath your cheek and using the other to bring the blankets up to your nose. 

John’s lips stretched into a smile before he opened his eyes; two brown orbs gazing back at you in amusement. They were always brown in the morning, though you knew as soon as the sunlight hit them they’d appear a stormy grey. 

Beautiful paradox.

“I thought I’d told you, you ain’t a good liar, Y/N.” His arm shot out wrapping around your torso to pull you closer. Nuzzling his face against the top of your head you felt him take in a deep breath. “You’d be a terrible outlaw.”

You carefully brought your knees upwards, creating a gap between your stomach and his for fear he may feel something you were still mustering up the courage to tell him about. You were unsure about so many things, after all you had only known him eight months and marriage had never even crossed your mind; you couldn’t imagine it had crossed his. What would he do with the knowledge that he was going to be a father?

“John?”

“Yes, beautiful?” You could still hear the sleep in his voice as he shifted around the added obstacle of your knees, settling with tossing a leg over yours.

“I was,” you paused suddenly, unsure of your approach. What did you want to know exactly? If he had plans of staying? If he’d ever thought about kids? How strong were his feelings for you? Surely he must have cared some to have stayed this long.

“Y/N, you’re not finishin’ the thought out loud, sweetheart.” You felt him give a soft chuckle, one of his rough hands brushing aimlessly through your hair with a gentleness one would never expect.

“That… gang you left,” you could feel the muscles tense in his arms as the words left your lips.

“Yeah,” John gave a slight pause, clearly uncomfortable with the turn your usual morning exchange was taking. “What about ‘em?” It was your turn to be hesitant. John’s past wasn’t a topic you generally brought up and you were unsure how to approach it.

“I just,” struggling through your own emotions and self-doubts, you forced the question from your lips. You and the life growing inside of you had to know. “I was just wondering if you ever missed being an outlaw.”

At the question, John pushed back enough to look you in the eye. You fought to focus on the details in his face; how his thin lips pulled to the side with uncertainty, how a few locks of his glossy black hair fell over his eye as the rest framed his face in a disorderly manner, the stubble that was already pricking out from his chin though he’d shaved just yesterday.

“Y/N, what are you gettin’ at?”

“I think…,” you could feel the heat rising in your face as you prepared to spout your confession. “Well I think I might love you, John Marston.” You blurted out entirely too fast in your embarrassment, tucking your face into the blankets.

The room was engulfed in silence and you only dared glance up when it threatened to suffocate you. John’s lips were spread wide in a profoundly amused grin.

“Is that so?” His tone was teasing, though his gaze radiated sheer adoration and you felt the pit that had been in your stomach subside.

“I guess I was just hoping you were sticking around, is all.” John brought his hand to rest carefully against your cheek, stroking your cheekbone softly with the rough pad of his thumb.

“I have to admit,” John gave a quiet chuckle, continuing to caringly stroke your cheek. “Never thought I’d hear those words come out of a woman’s mouth and actually sound as sweet as you make it.” You couldn’t help smiling against his palm, bringing your hand to a rest atop his.

“I can say it ‘mean’ if you’d like.” You teased, producing another small laugh from him.

“I think I might love you too, Y/N.” And for a moment, everything was perfect. You’d confessed your love to John and it was reciprocated. He was here, really, here as was the little one you’d both created. This life, this perfect little life you two had somehow been lucky enough to have formed was here, it was real, and it was yours. Then John’s face fell and his hand pulled away from your cheek, leaving a cold, emptiness behind. “And I think,” he sat up, running a hand through his dark hair as he brushed it from his face. You could see the discomfort the thoughts running through his mind were bringing him and that pit was right back inside your stomach.

“What is it?” You sat up too, now, watching the muscles in John’s back ripple as he turned himself around to drop his feet off the side of the bed. He didn’t move to get up, but he hunched over in an almost shameful manner.

“I think I need to tell you the real reason I left that gang…,”

You weren’t certain how much time had passed. Neither of you had left the confines of the bedroom, though you could see the sun growing steadily higher through the single window. You’d neglected all of your morning chores; your animals were probably starving.

You, however, felt sick. You didn’t know what you thought John’s confession might have been, you only knew you hadn’t in a million years been prepared for the truth. He was married, though he’d been sure to emphasize not legally, and to make matters worse he already had a child. A wife and a child he’d left behind to be with you.

Your throat was dry and an enormous lump rested inside of it. You wanted to hate him, to scream at him and slap him and curse him and yet, you wanted to cry until your eyes ran dry because you still loved him.

“You have a child.” It wasn’t a question and your hand fell to your own stomach. Somewhere during the confession you’d turned your back to him, so John couldn't see the gesture and you couldn't see whatever reaction your words rose in him.

“No,” you heard him take a single footstep and your entire body tensed. You didn’t want him to touch you, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop the flood that would follow. “I have a crazy woman saying I have a kid.” Your mind couldn’t even form a response to his words and when you didn’t respond, you heard John take a deep breath before continuing, “Y/N, every fella in that gang had been with her, the kid doesn’t even look like me,”

“Were you?” Your tone was still very low as you interrupted him, nevertheless John stopped at the sound of your voice.

“Was I what?”

“Were you…,” it was ridiculous that you couldn’t seem to even get the words out. You always knew there were other women, he was a man after all and you hadn’t even known each other long. You expected there to be other women, so what made this ‘Abigail’ so different? ”Were you intimate with her, John?” You had still been unable to speak her name. You were ashamed of yourself for loving the father of her child; her husband.

“Well yeah,”

“So there’s a chance she’s right?” His response had raised a sudden swell of anger in you, causing your tone to bite and you managed to look back at him.

John was at the foot of the bed now, leaning towards you though not daring to take a step closer. You didn’t remember him sliding into his jeans, though he was still shirtless and barefoot as he stared back at you in confused silence. You didn’t argue, not with John, he’d never given you reason to, so this side of you was new to him and you could see the shock and hurt in his eyes.

“Y/N,” you stood up, your loose nightgown masking your growing stomach as you faced him.

“Is there a chance the child is yours?” You were almost shouting now, because you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted the words to leave his lips; the words that so plainly hung in the space between you two. The words you knew were true; there was a chance the kid was his.

John shook his head before letting it fall in shame, unable to look you in the eye as he answered.

“I guess so,” his hoarse voice confirmed, dropping a weight onto your chest as you let his words resonate with you.

“And you abandoned her?” Your voice was little more than a whisper, though it caused John’s head to dart up.

“That ain’t my kid, Y/N.” His hand instinctively reached out to you and it took everything in you to step back out of his reach.

“You don’t know that, John!” John was unflinching this time as you shouted at him. “And that kid certainly don’t know that!” Your shouts broke the dam and you felt a warmth streak down your face. 

This hadn’t been what you’d wanted, yet you’d known it was too good to be true. You loved him, a man that wasn’t even yours to love. Was this what you wanted for your child? You couldn’t even fathom the thought of stealing a father from another child for your own selfish feelings. “What are you even doing here? Hiding? Was that all I was to you, a distraction?” You didn’t want to believe it, but there was a lot about John Marston you didn’t want to believe at the moment.

“No. Y/N,” he corrected himself, “I’ll admit at first, but I care about you, dammit! I,” John stopped as he realized his tone was rising. He’d never shouted at you before and you could see he didn’t want to even now. You couldn’t tear your eyes from him as his face softened and he extended a hand to you almost pleadingly. “I love you, woman.” You hated how gentle his words were. You almost preferred the shouting because it made what you had to do easier.

You were both silent for what felt like a long time, John’s hand extended towards you while yours sat tucked tightly against your chest. You couldn’t unfold your arms; it felt as though they were the only thing holding you together as you both continued to watch each other.

You couldn’t do it; you couldn’t be the woman to tear a man from a family he already had. John didn’t know about the little baby growing inside of you and he never would. You couldn’t risk the chance of him staying….

“I think you should go back to your family, John Marston.” Your voice sounded foreign as it broke the silence. John’s hand fell back to his side, his jaw clenching as he straightened himself.

“Guess you thought wrong about lovin’ me then.” He was searching for some confirmation, you could tell by the way his eyes held onto yours longingly. He wanted to hear that it was real, that you’d meant what you’d said. 

The truth was that you had meant it and in your heart you knew you always would mean it, however John couldn’t know that.

“I guess so.” As the words left your mouth, you saw something change in John’s face. It was as if his emotions had been wiped clean.

The room was once again engulfed in silence as John gathered his things, getting dressed without so much as a glance back in your direction. You watched him, it was all you could do as he shuffled around the room with what felt like an underlying rage. His movements were small, yet sharp and quick as though he wanted to be angry and wasn’t sure how to go about it.

Eight months, tossed aside like yesterday’s scraps. You didn’t want to think back, not now, not while he was still here. After, when you were sure you heard the sound of his horse’s hooves fade off in the distance, then would you allow yourself the guilty pleasure of your memories. The memories of your gentle, rugged outlaw that had been too good to be true. Your heart ached at the realization his absence would bring. 

You held your breath as the little one inside of you wriggled around, seemingly reading your thoughts and reminding you that you wouldn’t be alone. John Marston would never really be absent from your life, not truly.

“I thought I’d told you,” John’s scratchy voice tore you from your thoughts as he reached for his hat resting on the bedpost beside you. You took a step back, though he didn’t move to touch you again. Instead he went for the door, stopping just as his tall frame entered the doorway. “You ain’t a good liar, Y/N.” And without a second look back, John Marston had exited your life just as quickly as he’d entered it, knowingly or not taking a piece of your heart with him.

[xuijia]

Grenwich Falls

Grenwich Falls- What happens when a an unknown comes into the crossfire of a werewolf pack? No one is familiar with each other and no one trust each other..

GOT7/BTS au: non-idol, college students, werewolves, other wereanimals, and a few unknowns.

Warnings: Future chapters may contain smut, angst, fluff. Trigger warnings will be given when appropriate. 

Main characters from each group will mainly consists of 94 and 97liners. 

Chapter 1: The Meeting

Chpt 2

Word count: 3.2k

You knew what you were and you knew the chance you took coming to this university. People like you remained low and separate from others preferring to stay away from cliques that could never really pinpoint what or who you are. But you were tired of running tired of being a nomad with no claim to any space as your own and sure you could turn back to your parents and live life back in your small town with them and your little brother but what good would it do? They weren’t like you either. So after leaving home at 17 what else were you supposed to do now that you were 20 and truly unestablished. You did what everyone else did that was your age, went to college. For the past two years you had taken online courses at a university so you could roam from place to place exploring the states all the way from the west coast to the east but you missed companionship. After all that was a vital part of human nature to crave the company of other humans no matter the smaller percentage of that which was in you. It was however much greater than those of the other wereanimals.  

So here you were moving into your apartment a week before the fall term was about to start with two werewolves as roommates and oddly a human with a strong were scent. She was marked, you figured that was the only way the other two females would have willingly chose her as a roommate. From what you knew werewolves didn’t associate themselves with non-wolves. This you had learned from your parents as they warned you that of all the were animals; “dogs” as they called them had the highest ego, traveled in the largest packs and thought that they were the superior of the were communities. Heck, there were even fully exclusive werewolf universities but none for your kind but yet here they were.

“Hi, my name is Andrea”, one of the girls extended her hand to you acknowledging your presence and company as a housemate.

She was cute, a description you’d normally never associate with a were but you could tell she was fierce as her hazel eyes lit like fire as you extended your hand to her in return. She was taking in your scent no doubt as you had done the same but like most reactions you’d receive her nose scrunched and she viewed you through slanted eyes with uncertainty. It made the hairs on your neck stand as your instincts immediately wanted you to become defensive. The other were girl took note of the exchange and rushed to Andrea’s side eyeing you warily.

A tiny sniff battle ensued as both girls slightly lifted their noses to the air and looked between each other as if gauging your scent. You knew what they wanted to ask but they dare didn’t because throughout all were animals you never asked what kind of were a person was. It was simply bad manners and left an ill taste in everyone’s mouth. That was the one mutual rule that all communities shared; unless said were voluntarily divulged their breed you’d ought to never ask. Of course most thought this rule didn’t apply to werewolves because they were proud to be wolves, travelling in packs, the stereotypical brute build and biker gang mentality wasn’t exactly overfitting when it came to their kind. And if you couldn’t judge from their aura they had no problem telling you just what they were.

“Ugh I absolutely hate when you guys do that!”, the blonde girl exasperated.

She was short and bubbly typical girl next door look, definitely not the type to be mixed with werewolves. She literally couldn’t be taller than 5’2 and the baby pink skirt she wore with her white and yellow striped crop top practically screamed “Eat Me I’m Cute and Cuddly!” You couldn’t help but wonder why or even how she….

“Seriously why don’t you two just piss on the floor and mark your territory” She huffed interrupting your thoughts. “I mean seriously you knew this school would have other were animals, why are you being so weird?”

“Alicia if you weren’t dating my brother I’d seriously bite you right now”, the other girl barked. She was about your height maybe a little taller. With dark brown hair that almost mirrored black and skin so bronze you’d think she was made of copper. Her eyes were most alarming they were gold like literal molten gold.

“Don’t worry Natty, I can take it. Your brother bites me all the time”, she lowered her voice giving the girl a seductive wink.

Natty you now knew her to be scoffed in disgust and faked a choking sound as she went back to your shared living room dragging her bags of clothes off to what you assumed would be her room. Returning your eyes to Andrea you noticed she was still looking at you skeptically. No doubt ruling out which animal you couldn’t be. “Your scent is different”, she said dropping her stance and bouncing into the kitchen.

You were taken aback this was going to be harder than you thought. At least for the moment they weren’t being aggressive but you could tell you guys wouldn’t be besties anytime soon.

Because you were the last to arrive you were subjected to the smallest room but luckily for you it had a better layout as your room was the only one with a walk-in closet in its bathroom. Loosing yourself into unpacking your stuff and trying to make the space feel as comfortable as possible you decided painting these drab off-white walls were a must. You quickly decided to take the day tomorrow to go to the nearest hardware store you could find and add anything to the walls to make it more lively.

“Hi new roomie!”, Alicia popped in making herself comfortable right on your freshly made bed. “We are going to get some food and hangout at a couple of the pack members house, you down?”

“Liss! You can’t just be inviting people to hang around the pack that aren’t pack this isn’t how it works!” you heard a booming voice from across the hall yell. To which you quickly put together as Natty from her tone earlier.

“Ignore her. It’s just some pizza and beers”, the blonde girls said rolling her eyes and facing you again.

You were about the politely decline before another head popped in your doorway and said “yah join us it’s pretty casual and I doubt you really know anyone here yet”.

Again you were about to decline but your stomach answered for you. A growl ripped from your belly that would have made you embarrassed had it not been for the cheerful claps from Alicia and her beauty pageant grin “I will take that as a yes!”

The two girls scurried from your room with Andrea turning back to take in your appearance. You weren’t dressed to impress per se but you didn’t exactly look homeless. What was expected, after all you knew you’d just be moving boxes all day and organizing your new space. So for that occasion your purposefully bleached high school football team shirt and your rather worn yoga pants sufficed, but not for this occasion apparently.

“err you might want to change”, she said grinning sheepishly at you giving off an obvious shrug that stated ‘first impressions’.

After changing all three girls were waiting for you in the living room seemingly dressed as if they were going to a club. ‘Casual my ass’, you thought to yourself. Each one of them had on some form of a mini skirt and tight shirts. You looked down at your apparel. You didn’t’ own club clothes it just wasn’t a part of your wardrobe. The skinny ripped jeans you wore exposed a great deal of your thighs but it still wasn’t drastic and your long sleeve off the shoulder striped mustard yellow and black top didn’t meet the obvious dress code.

“Should I change again?” you asked incredulously. Honestly you would have just rather stayed in and ordered takeout alone. But however this was the whole point of coming to college to interact with other people.

“Umm it’ll do”, Andrea got up circling you. “Nice ass”, she said grabbing her keys and heading for the door.

“Let your hair down”, Alicia commanded as she walked towards you with a tube of red blush tone nude lipstick.

You did as she said letting your honey curls fall from its messy bun and drape around your shoulders. She applied a light coat of lipstick and ran her fingers through your hair fluffing out the flat part that your scrunchy had caused. That’s when you could smell it. The scent, his scent whoever he was the were had a strong presence and it was all over her. She was marked alright her own smell was almost indistinguishable mixed with his. Most human don’t have strong odor usually they’d smell like whatever they had been around that day. You could tell she liked lavender and you could also tell she hadn’t been lying about the bites. Whoever the werewolf was he had claimed her and bitten her in and out of his wolf form.

“You’re really pretty”, she admired giving you the once over again. A car horn signaled that your little encounter was taking too long.

The drive to the pizza place was rather short and the time it took was spent listening to Natty and Alicia banter between each other. You didn’t know much about either of them but you could tell they were fond of each other and that this relationship wasn’t a newly established one either.

The pizza plaza had a cool vibe and when you guys walked in you could immediately smell the scent of many werewolves, a few werefoxes, a couple of werelynx, and what seemed to be the pungent smell of a werepanther. For some reason you could never find yourself to adjust to their unique odor. But Surely enough just as you could smell them they could smell you. A couple of wolves in the corner all turned their heads to your direction. The cool thing about your nature was you had the ability to tone down your scent and even take on the scent of whatever were was around you if there were multiple ones. Unfortunately, also for you in order to do this you had to calm your nerves and walking into a room of unknowns wasn’t exactly helping and considering it was only days away from a full moon everyone’s scent was magnified so there wasn’t much you could do to mask your own just yet.

Wedging yourself behind the two wolves you tried to block your body and keep your head down as they walked further into the plaza reaching some stairs. The smell of wolves was getting stronger and you could now see this was a pack exclusive room and you were not welcome. Vibrations were running through your body and a slow hum was starting that sensed danger but yet no reaction was coming from the three women ahead of you so you still followed suit.

Entering the room, you saw about fifteen different wolves in the room a mix a male and female though mostly male.  Two pool tables in the center occupied two guys each, both of the brute and rather tall stature.

“Baby!”, Alicia squealed running and jumping into the arms of a guy that scarily resembled Natty. He was rather on the skinny side with long legs and thick lips that made his smirk tilt into a smile as he caught her and immediately enveloped her into a hug and kiss.

A guy much broader but about the same height greeted the new guest but quickly caught your scent and turned his eyes to you. You swore you thought you saw them change color slightly going from brown orbs to a highlighted silver as his shoulders squared towards you. His face remained calm but you could feel his power his instincts immediately alerting him that you were not something he was familiar with.

“Who’s she?” he addressed the other three not taking his eyes off of you. His nostrils flared as he was still detecting and processing you. Much to your dismay you could notice the others doing the same. What you really noticed was that the tone of his question was not asking for your name but what you were.

A slight silence persisted as your eyes never left his stance, you knew better than to make steady eye contact with him but yet your heart rate began to slow so you knew he could sense it and was less alarmed. You had to calm yourself because your nature could be equally as aggressive as werewolves but in this room that would not be a good move for you. You tilted your head finally meeting his gaze again but this time holding it. His eyebrow quirked up a smirk pulling at his lips. Ordinarily from another werewolf this would be a challenge to the alpha but your aura gave him no intonation that that was your intention. Of course it wasn’t it wasn’t in your kind’s nature to challenge another alpha for dominance. One because it wasn’t a desire to be a pack master or leader over anyone. You tried your best to make this aware to him and everyone in the room changing your aura into that of a subordinate human.

“Jinyoung. This is our new roommate”, Alicia spoke up but quickly all four of you looked from each other realizing you never properly introduced yourself.

“Y/N”, was all you said smiling sweetly at him meeting his gaze again. At this point everyone in the room was looking at the two of you. Of course you knew they could smell you and at the moment your instincts hadn’t quite subdued the danger feeling so you were not even attempting to merge your scent with one of theirs as camouflage as it would just alarm them more.

Another couple of seconds went by and finally he smiled back at you relaxing and leaning against the pool table a cue in hand “well welcome y/n”, he said.

The tension in the air visibly relaxed and the activities presumed as before you entered. Usually you would have no problem wandering around on your own. That was the nature of your kind what you felt most comfortable doing but right now you wanted to do anything but. You were thankful for Alicia beckoning you over to her and the guy practically entangled around her body. Even for you this seemed peculiar. Usually wereanimals weren’t that infatuated with humans.

“This is my boyfriend BamBam, he is also Natty’s brother which I’m sure you’ve figured out by now” She was gleaming as she looked up to her boyfriend but his eyes were trained on you. He seemed friendly enough and you could tell he had power though obviously not like Jinyoung and not even as much as natty, but he was still a strong wolf.

He finally nodded towards you cracking a smile, canines on full display “Well Liss, you always find interesting company don’t you?”, he said nuzzling her nose causing a schoolgirl giggle to escape her throat.

The rest of the night went by pretty smoothly Liss as you now realized everyone called Alicia and Andrea who had begun warming up to you slowing took you around the room introducing you to everyone. For the most part they seemed welcoming though cautious of you, which you couldn’t blame them. You ate pizza and laughed with some random guy and girl but made sure to limit yourself to two beers for the sake of controlling your ability to mask your scent which at times was all but present. Still though you could feel eyes on your back the whole time and you had to put an effort into keeping hair from standing up in alarm. Jinyoung was watching you just observing you along with another guy with almost an equally aggressive power as Jinyoung. He caught your attention you couldn’t help but to stare back at him as he looked to you. His loose brown hair was neatly styled and his muscles were apparent beneath his black shirt and black pants he was shorter than the other two mean but that did not hinder his strong aura at all. Frankly you also thought him beautiful though a bit intimidating as you took in his scent not once did his eyes leave yours.

Finally, he caught your gaze his eyes burning into your own and his face set in hard line making you both feel at ease. That much was apparent you could tell he was holding back his power and for some odd reason you could tell he knew you were doing the same.

“You shouldn’t be here”, you heard a voice whisper in your ear. His breath tickled your ear and you turned to meet his smirk. He was halfway joking with you finding your confused face amusing. He handed you a red cup which contained water much to your gratitude. You took a sip cheeks feeling flushed.

“You’re making the pack leaders uneasy”, he grinned even harder. Was he flirting with you? You decided to play along finding the tall handsome guy very attractive and you couldn’t deny his scent was appealing to you.

“What makes you think that?” you batted your eyelashes taking another sip of water and grinning just as widely as him.

“Umm” he mused pretending to think “must be because you’re so attractive”, he said circling you admiring you from all angles and adding “plus you’re… Different.”

“Am I?”, you said flipping your hair. This of course wafted your smell closer to him and you saw his adams apple move down his throat as he swallowed. He was definitely affected by you as much as you were affected by him.

“That you are” he said moving his body closer to you almost touching you. For some reason you couldn’t figure out why your body felt like it was on fire. Was it him or the approaching full moon whatever the reason that and the beer was making your scent even stronger.

“I’m Jungkook by the way” he said finally closing the distance and putting his hand on the small of your back on the exposed skin. He felt the shock, causing his pupils to dilate and you realized what was happening. He was coming to his heat and for some reason you were magnifying it.

You heard a cough from beside you and immediately Jungkook dropped his hands from you and took a step back. “We need to get going”, Jinnyoung said commanding the wolf to follow. The other guys followed and slowly everyone started to disperse from the scene as the night had now approached 2 am. You couldn’t help but notice the guy from earlier staring at you again but this time when your eyes met his he looked away and followed his pack master and Jungkook out of the room.

Alicia noticed the little exchange and scoffed at his behavior “That was weird, he’s never done that before”.

You looked down at her and lowered your voice “Who is he? Why does he feel so strong?”.

Andrea was now at your side staring at the space he had disappeared from “That’s Jackson, and he is strong, very powerful. He was almost our pack master”.

[bughead-ficz]

Cabin In The Woods (C2)

Chapter 2- Forgiveness

Summary: A three-parter based off of the 2x14 promo /// The Core Four attend a luxury weekend to Veronica’s family’s cabin to relax and unplug. Little do they know, relaxing is the exact opposite of what they’re going to do as secrets are revealed and a new danger is just around the corner.

☾ ☾ ☾

Jughead sat melancholily in front of the weeping lake, his mind a wreck. He wondered if he decided to jump in, would he find himself in another world, different and better. Would it be like walking through the Looking-Glass? Probably not. Although, he did seem to have a growing urge to swim in the filled cavern.

The silence around him seemed to be smothering these thoughts, smothering his very existence. It encouraged him to imagine things he really didn't want to be imagining. Things like Archie's hands on Betty's hips, their lips slowly engulfing one another...

"Jughead?!"

The timid, yet loud and clear voice reached his earlier-deafened ears, slicing up his imaginings. He could pinpoint that voice from a mile away. It sounded desperate, but with undertones of soft comfort. It felt and sounded like home, the good parts anyway. It sounded like Betty Cooper.

She found him near the lake, peering down at it with a cold stare ripped across his features. The sight made her tremble inwardly, knowing it was her doing that made him like this. It was a make or break situation, whether they'd talk it through or end everything. Would they decide to sink into their hidden, dark personas, or would they grasp desperately onto the small hint of light that seeped out of the two?

"Juggie?" Betty whispered, approaching her boyfriend.

She noted his beanie that was rarely absent from his head, now grasped tightly in his right hand. She silently prayed that this meant they'd take the conversational route and talk things out. She couldn't lose him. Hesitantly, she sat next to him, Jughead's stare focusing on the view in front.

The two youths sat in the quiet for a while, taking in the scenery. Betty could see how intently Jughead was focusing on the gloomy lake, like it was an old familiar friend. So she too peered at it. However, she struggled to pay attention to the rippling molecules of the water due to the reflection that the mirroring surface provided.

In its reflection, dark stripes of blue and gold seemed to hypnotise the surface, causing her to look up. The sky above burst with colour of both warm and cold tones. Splashes of deep-blooded orange and crimson swam around the base of heavy-hearted blues and blacks. The two different tones seemed to battle each other in some sort of peaceful, civil war. However, Betty could spot the smudge of pink seeping from the cracks of the battle, like a tranquil referee, bestowing a type of peace treaty.

"The sky looks amazing tonight," Betty spoke after a while of fragile and tension-filled silence.  Jughead didn't reply. The blond eyed him carefully, swallowing before speaking again.

"I've never seen it look like this before." Still no reply. So she tried again.

"I didn't even know it could become some of these colours. All at once, I mean." Silence. "Funny though. The blues with the gold-"

"What happened between you and Archie?" Jughead's voice spoke fast. So fast, he wondered how he'd managed to not trip over any of the words, like he usually would. He heard Betty sigh.

"I'm sorry, Jug. It didn't mean anything," she began, steadily. "We weren't together when it happened. I would never betray you like that."

Another silence began to creep up, lingering in the chilled air.

"When?" Jughead enquired after a few agonising minutes.

"The night we caught The Black Hood." Betty waited for Jughead to say something else, but realised he was waiting for her to expand. So she did.

"Archie and I were sat in the car after questioning Nana Rose. Everything... was a mess. I was freaking out and he held my hands to calm me down. He was just there. He said we'd save Mr Svenson and bring The Black Hood down for good." The blonde paused as she thought of the memories, noticing Jughead listening intently. For once, he wore a face she couldn't read. Betty continued.

"I was scared. We both were. We didn't know what was going to happen. For all we knew, we could have died. It just happened." She felt Jughead tense.

"So you slept with him?" Jughead whispered, vulnerability lacing his voice.

Betty's eyes widened in shock, her eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

"What? Of course not!"

"But Veronica said-"

"No, Juggie. We kissed. That's it." Betty  tenderly placed her hand on his cheek, turning her body towards his. He didn't resist, yet remained in his position. "A simple 'my life is in danger and so is yours' kiss that didn't mean anything."

"So why didn't you tell me when I asked you if you'd done anything with anyone else?" Jughead grumbled, his eyes finally meeting hers in annoyance. "I told you about Toni, but you lied. Why?"

"To be honest, Jug, I just forgot. Because it didn't mean anything. So I just answered, I don't know, subconsciously, I guess." Betty then paused, taking a deep breath and speaking the following words with great hesitance. "And when I realised, I still didn't want to tell you because... I didn't want to disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" Jughead echoed in confusion. Betty withdrew her hand and tucked her legs into her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on her knees.

"At your birthday party. When you said that stuff about me being with you because I was waiting to be with Archie. I didn't want you to think that was true. Because it isn't." The blonde could feel her nails begin to curl into her palms, sharp edges grazing the soft, pillowy skin. Until she felt a different hand grasp hers, one that felt foreign to her own self-deprecating ones, yet like home. She looked down to find Jughead's hand intertwined with hers, his thumb stroking it absentmindedly.

"I really am sorry, Jug. If I could take it back, I would. You're the one I love. Please, don't be mad." Betty saw something in his eyes soften as they dove deep into hers. He pulled his hand away and tucked a piece of her cascading locks behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

"Say that again." The beanie-less boy whispered, his eyes soft yet darkening with something Betty couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Don't be mad?" Betty asked again, not fully understanding. This earned a slight chuckle from Jughead's part.

"No, the other thing." Betty frowned for a second until she realised what he'd meant. She let out a relieved smile.

"I love you, Jughead Jones." Her hand returned to his face, softly cupping it as he stroked her cheek with his. "I love you so much-"

Betty let out a squeal as Jughead's lips captured her own and brought them tumbling down onto the ground from the force. Specks of dirt gathered in Betty's hair as her head softly met the ground, Jughead's form hovering above hers. But she didn't care, all she cared about was his lips on hers and the fact that he'd forgiven her. Jughead Jones had forgiven her.

After a few minutes he pulled away, his face within centimetres above hers.

"I'm not mad. The situation you guys were in was crazy, and I'm just glad you didn't get hurt." The boy grinned, love filling his darkened, protective orbs. He ran a hand through her hair as they both sat up. "Sorry, Betts. You just washed your hair and I got dirt in it."

That sparked something mischievous in the blonde's eyes. Her teeth came down and trapped her bottom lip in a knee-weakening bite, as she slowly stood up.

"Guess I'll just have to wash it again." She whispered, and began grabbing at the hem of her shirt.

Betty slowly brought her shirt further up her stomach, never breaking eye contact with the bashful boy in front of her. She saw him gulp before pulling the shirt over her head, discarding the fabric onto the floor. Giggling to herself as she noticed Jughead's eyes fixated on the black bralette from earlier, she swiftly tugged down her jeans. Once she was left in just her underwear, Betty gently grabbed Jughead's hand and began leading him further towards the lake.

"Come on." She laughed, beckoning him seductively.

Before Jughead knew what was happening, the blonde beauty dove elegantly into the lake, small splashes hitting him at the impact. Suddenly, the lagoon didn't seem as dark with dismay as he saw Betty's delicate form gliding under the surface.

As she came up, she let out an exclamatory giggle. Jughead swore that sound made him fall in love with her all over again.

"Come on, Juggie. What are you waiting for?" God she was so sexy.

Jughead scrambled clumsily to remove his jeans and shirt, kicking off his shoes so he was left in his boxers. He tripped over his clothes a few times, earning more giggles from his girlfriend. Then, he hurriedly jumped into the lake, the whole area splashing violently from the impact of his cannonball in true Jughead style. Betty squealed as the splashes covered her.

She looked around at where the boy had landed, frowning as she failed to spot him.

"Jug?" The blonde yelled after a few moments. No reply. Frantically, she once again peered around at the lake, looking into its deep abyss.

What the-

All of a sudden, she felt something fleshy and hard snake around her torso. Betty let out a small, surprised scream as her boyfriend popped up from the water right in front of her. She jokingly smacked at his forearm, laughs escaping the wide smile on her face.

"God, Betts, it's freezing!" Jughead exclaimed, bringing his chest closer to hers in hope to exchange body heat. Concern seemed to flood his face as he began to rub his girlfriend's arms in an attempt to warm her up a bit, large hands caressing her body. She grinned sweetly at the gesture.

"Its fine." She wrapped her arms around his neck as they bobbed up and down in the water. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear, "look up."

As he did so, the sky had seemed to change drastically. It was now a solid dark blue stretched over the entire area, that seemed to carry on for miles and miles. However, it was now brightly lit by thousands of shining stars, each one gently blinding to the naked eye. The view was breathtaking.

"I know." Betty's voice whispered, taking note of his astonished reaction. "I've never seen something so beautiful."

Jughead peered at her as she stared up at the twinkling sky. She looked like a child at Christmas, an adorable adoration filling her features. And Jughead saw her. And he thought to himself.

"I have."

☾

"Why are you two wet?" The sharp tone of Veronica sliced into Betty and Jughead's love-filled bubble as they walked back into the cabin.

"We were in the lake." Betty spoke carefully, treading on eggshells around her friend. She knew she'd betrayed Veronica's trust, and she desperately wanted her forgiveness now she'd received Jughead's.

"Listen, V-"

"If you guys wanted to swim, you should have just told me. There's an amazing hot-tub here." Veronica smiled sweetly, confusion bubbling up in Betty as she frowned. "Go on, put on your suits and we'll all meet in there."

And with that, she began to flounce away, leaving the couple lingering in the doorway.

"Do you think she's okay?" Betty questioned Jughead, apprehension flooding her face.

"Maybe Archie explained everything." Jughead shrugged, placing a comforting arm over her shoulders. "Come on, that hot-tub sounds like fun right about now. I'm freezing."

With that, they walked towards their temporary bedroom, possessing a hope that Jughead was right. A hope that wished they could now just put everything behind them and start afresh, and begin to have fun together as friends. Little did they know, this was just the calm before the storm.

[to-the-captain]

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You both like severich, and mormor.

You: Ever since Sebastian Moran had wrapped his jacket around the infamous James Moriarty, his life had changed drastically. Naturally, it doesn’t seem like an action with enough impact to cause such an extreme change. But considering that the sniper had desperately tried to keep a corpse on a rooftop from cooling out too much - Jim hated being cold, he hated it, despised it, don’t let him freeze - the scenario does get a slightly different touch. Shortly after the fatal shot had rang through London, highly trained men from the MI5 had dragged Sebastian away from his boss’ body, not being met by much resistance from the sobbing blonde. It was the start for his life in hell. Without any kind of trial, Moran had been thrown into a cell which only consisted of white, white walls, white ceiling and white floor, and a steel toiled. That was it. It always was bright around him, blinding him, depriving him of sleep. Every two days, someone dragged his weakened body - food seemed to be luxury - out of his prison for ‘interrogation’. Despite the deep wounds that it left, the infections growing on his back and the broken bones, Sebastian never once uttered a word about the empire, didn’t even say Jim’s name out loud, always the loyal soldier. Still, it was slowly getting harder to stay strong, he was starting to hallucinate and wanted nothing more than to just utter that name that meant the world to him, just one more time.

Stranger: [Reading :) ]

Stranger: [Oh this is a good one, kudos!]

You: [Thank you :) ]

Stranger: The white walls were quiet, the room quiet, everything deafeningly silent. It had gone on for some time, for longer than Sebastian really had a grasp on. Far longer. They didn't trust him with a blade, so he was only ever held down, buzzed along his jaw by an electric razor. He was given some amenities every so often; toilet paper, if he behaved. Baby powder to freshen up with. Once a week, he was dragged to be hosed down with cold water. It was cruelty in the most base sense... but how long had it actually been going on? There was no clock, no window. The days had passed far quicker than the sniper realized. A doctor walked in, nodding away one of the guards. He was in a striking white coat that matched the walls, and kept his head down as he stood. "They're clearing you for release," the man said, "A psychological evaluation was required." The man pushed glasses up on his pale nose, his hair a mess and pushed about. He clicked his tongue, his accent German, and he spoke very sharply. "You will answer my questions, in order. What is your name? Where were you born? What is your profession?" The doctor tapped his clipboard with his pen, brown eyes watching through the glasses at the man crumbled on the floor.

You: Since there was no bed or any other kind of furniture in his cell, Sebastian was curled up on the floor of it, trying to keep warm. The day before had been interrogation day, so he was simply trying to think of anything else but the pain running through his body. Without anything to focus on but white, it was difficult though. Maybe he would get some food at least, that would be quite nice. The sniper had become rather catatonic over the time, not caring about anything, answering whatever was thrown at him with one word or not at all, not even turning around or getting up as he heard light, controlled footsteps approaching his cell. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. Even dying was impossible, since the guards seemed to have the order not to let him - whatever he had tried, they hadn’t shot him, and as he had refused to eat they had force-fed him. Maybe they were waiting for him to start spilling information, but Sebastian was determined to let them wait forever, if necessary. Or until the infected wounds all over his body would lead to blood poisoning. Whatever would come first.

You: [That was not supposed to send]

Stranger: [You're fine! :) ]

You: Since there was no bed or any other kind of furniture in his cell, Sebastian was curled up on the floor of it, trying to keep warm. The day before had been interrogation day, so he was simply trying to think of anything else but the pain running through his body. Without anything to focus on but white, it was difficult though. Maybe he would get some food at least, that would be quite nice. The sniper had become rather catatonic over the time, not caring about anything, answering whatever was thrown at him with one word or not at all, not even turning around or getting up as he heard light, controlled footsteps approaching his cell. Whatever. It didn’t matter anymore. Even dying was impossible, since the guards seemed to have the order not to let him - whatever he had tried, they hadn’t shot him, and as he had refused to eat they had force-fed him. Maybe they were waiting for him to start spilling information, but Sebastian was determined to let them wait forever, if necessary. Or until the infected wounds all over his body would lead to blood poisoning. Whatever would come first. When someone entered his cell, Sebastian didn't even bother moving or opening his eyes. Why would he? It didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. However, he did perk up a little when he heard the word 'release' - before he realised that it probably was just another way to get him to talk. Another kind of torture, one that didn't leave visible scars. Still, the fear of further punishments let him play along for that moment. "Sebastian." A pause. "Augustus Moran." Another pause. Speaking was exhausting. "Germany." Coming up with the city was too much of an effort, in that moment. "Soldier." Once a soldier, always a soldier.

Stranger: The doctor walked slowly into the room, and around the man on the floor. His gloved hand held a pen that he clicked. Click. Click. Click. Click. There was a rustle of fabric, of him moving to look down at Sebastian's back. Bony, open wounds oozing. There was a snap of plastic as the joint of the pen broke in the doctor's hand. He stood straight, and pushed his glasses up once more on his nose, licking his back teeth. He didn't even mark down anything to Sebastian's answers - it was irrelevant. But he heard them, loud and clear. They hadn't broken Sebastian. They hadn't, and the doctor spoke with his accent just as thick as before. "You have numerous injuries. You were interrogated rather violently... dragged, beaten." The man was nearly grinding his teeth, and he spoke a bit more quietly, "But you haven't forgotten who you are, have you?" A pause. "Tiger." The man in the doctor's coat moved to kneel by the man on the floor, and reached inside of his coat. He drew out a tube, some kind of ointment. There was silence, then, as he opened it, as he began lathering the cream onto the sores. They weren't clean, but infection needed to be fought immediately. There was a pause. "Can you stand at all?" and the voice, oh, the voice. It wasn't German, it wasn't at all. It had a roll to it, a lilt, and he spoke in a rushed, hurried tone, "We have six minutes, nineteen seconds from now."

You: It had been ages, lifetimes, since he had heard that nickname rolling over those lips the last time. Sometimes, the hallucinations would talk to him, they would call him Tiger, but they would spit the word at him, yell at him for being so stupid, so weak, so useless. For destroying it all, ruining whatever Jim had bothered to set up over all those years. They were right, they all were. It was all true, everything they said. But this time, the word was spoken so softly, a whisper, barely there. It was the most beautiful thing he could have imagined hearing. "Kitten," Sebastian replied quietly, opening his eyes slowly, one clouded over, the other one fixed on the blurry mess that seemed to kneel in front of him. There were tears blurring his vision, making it hard to figure out what exactly was going on. Still, he understood - Jim was there, finally, to take him away. It was over. They'd won. He was going to join his Jim in hell before losing a single word about him or his work. The sniper didn't know what had tipped his body over the edge of finally giving up, maybe the hot water they had poured him over him the day prior, maybe the infections had finally caught up to his entire system. Not that it mattered. At the question though, the small smile that had pulled at Sebastian's lips faded a little. He knew that he couldn't stand let alone walk, but he was afraid of voicing his thought, afraid that Jim would just leave him there if he disappointed him again. So, he wordlessly began to move, stubborn, whimpering quietly as his skin was pulled over his gaunt form. He made it to his hands and knees before he had to admit defeat. It wouldn't work. "No..." Panic was rising within him. "I'm sorry, please.." A fucking disappointment, that was all he was.

Stranger: It wasn't the sniper's body that Jim had worried about. Moran was injured, of course he was, nearly beyond repair. Nearly. The coat was pulled off quickly, and the criminal, himself, was thin. He looked nearly ghostly, and it seemed that the separation of the two had only earned suffering for them both. James heard the pleading tone, the crack in Moran's voice that sounded like lightning, and he shook his head. "I know. I know, with their drugs and their tubes and their..." he trailed off, and shook his head. Sebastian was so close, so close to giving up. Another day, and Jim may have lost him... and still may. The coat was put over Sebastian's shoulders, against his sore-ridden back, to cover it from any more damage, and the smaller man moved quickly to Sebastian's side. He slipped beneath Sebastian's arm, and with a rush of adrenaline - of whatever filled him - he forced the other up to his feet. "Lean," he ordered, "Just lean. We have nineteen steps to the lift, and my men are causing a scene upstairs. We'll rush the edge of the room, and towards the emergency exit." A grinding of his teeth wasn't from Sebastian's heaviness, but his lightness. He was skin and bones, and Moriarty looked up at him from beneath his arm, "Walk. Now, or so help me, we're both going to die in here."

You: All Sebastian could do was scream when he suddenly found his position to be changed. His left foot hung awkwardly from his leg, obviously not made for stepping on it anymore, so all his weight rested on his right side, his shoulder strangely twisted now that he had Jim positioned underneath it. Was this just another guard, was he just imagining Jim over the other, real person? Were they just going to drag him away again, try to force information out of him? Interrogation wasn’t too long ago, this had to be a mistake, this couldn't be correct. His skin had only just began to peal properly from the hot water. It took a few moments until he understood what he was supposed to do, that he wouldn't be dragged around but would have to use the other person as a crutch and probably hobble along. It seemed ridiculous, impossible, and yet - there was something within Sebastian, something that needed to make up for being so stupid, for ruining everything, something that still yearned for forgiveness. So, the blond began to move, only letting out the most quiet whimpers as he tried to keep up with the consultant. It didn't matter that he didn't understand, it was over. All of it, it was over. It had to be.

You: [Gotta get the laundry out of the tumble dryer, should take less than ten minutes]

Stranger: [Awesome! In case we get disconnected, I am superdunngirl@gmail.com - my heart is in this already, I'm sorry to say, and if something happens I would like to continue.]

Stranger: Oh, he knew Sebastian's boundaries. He knew when the man had reached his brink, and it took everything in Jim not to let his wild and uncontrolled emotions run through him. His eyes felt hot, but not wet, because they had to get to safety. He had to get the man from the room. It... it was the least he could do. Jim couldn't think of this all as being his fault, not then, not with Sebastian against him, limping along, bones grinding and body weak. Jim's eyes were set ahead, and he spoke clearly, but softly, "If you can't make it, you tell me, and I'll drag you out of here. The coat is long enough to support you like a gurney, and I'll -drag- you, Sebastian, if I have to." Jim took a sharp breath and looked up at the other as they left the cell. In the observation room outside of the cell, where the cameras showed the interior, the two men at the desk were sitting, slumped over the keys and dials with sharp, single slits in their necks, that had severed their spine in a quick jab. Jim had gotten his hands dirty - things had indeed changed. And Jim was prepared to put Moran out of his misery, if the man hadn't answered the questions correctly. If he had lost his mind. Jim pulled Moran softly towards the metal lift, where he absorbed most of the shock of the walking with well-placed presses of his hip against Sebastian's, keeping the man from having to put too much weight on his weak legs. Jim jutted his elbow out, and the lift had a small delay, before pinging. He was nearly trembling from anger. It was his fault, -your fault, you bastard, look at what you've done to him, this is your hand, this is your hand-. Jim shook his head quickly to push the thought out, and helped Moran into the lift, leaning him to the wall to give him something else to grasp onto. Jim licked his lips, and hit one of the cryptic buttons on the panel, as they started to go up. "I will drag you," he said again, trying to keep himself steady, "if I have to. I'm not leaving you here."

You: With every step the pair took, Sebastian left a little mark consisting of blood and puss on the floor, probably showing the next guard that happened to trot along exactly what had happened. They'd all know, soon, about the consultant's brilliance, about how someone had removed one of the most important prisoners from the highest security facility the British government used. Oh, how angry Holmes would be about that, how brilliantly angry it would make him. Naturally, making Holmes angry was not the content of any of the thoughts going through Sebastian's head. Most of them consisted of him trying to muster up enough energy for the next step, with some being preoccupied with making sure he wouldn't pass out on the spot. Had to be good, had to make Jim happy, had to make up for being a disappointment. Only then, Jim would take him to hell with him. Once he found himself leaning against the cold metal wall of the elevator, trying his best not to slip down at it, he couldn't help but spend his time staring at the man in front of him. It did look like the pictures of Jim his memory supplied, maybe a bit slimmer and a bit more tired, but the man did resemble his Jim a lot. "I'm sorry," he repeated, quietly, not sure if he had got a reaction the first time. "I tried..." It was all he could say, all he could offer to make it okay. He'd tried, he'd lasted a long time before giving up.

You: [If we do get disconnected, I will definitely email you c: ]

Stranger: [*YAY*]

Stranger: The man who held Sebastian steady looked up into his eyes. His eye... one was so clouded. Jim's mind rattled through the damage Sebastian had taken, bringing it into his mind as inventory. He would file it in order of most important to least. Blood flow, respiration, the basics were the most vital. The blood loss was worrisome, but Jim had a plan. He always had a plan, didn't he? Just outside of the loading dock, away from the emergency exit on the filing floor for papers and things of the like, there was a sprinter van. Inside, a mobile critical care setup. Damn it, he just had to get Sebastian there, and he knew the man's energy was fast-depleting. Jim shook his head. "You didn't try, Sebastian. You succeeded. They took you before I could..." he trailed off, and bit his lips together, "They took you, and it's taken so long, and you know, Moran, you know -" Ding. The doors opened, and it was a bar brawl. Planted workers from Jim's dwindled empire were causing a ruckus with the other workers on the floor, so much so that they didn't even notice the elevator opening. It was such a short journey, so simple, but it had been too difficult to get into. Jim knew he couldn't walk that fast with Sebastian, so he gently pulled the coat from Moran's back, and stepped out. "Lie down," he said, looking at the tile floor. The fabric would slide easily, and he pushed his dress shirt sleeves up quickly, "It's okay, it will keep you from any stray bullets, and sight. Go on," he nodded, kneeling, and cupping the coat's neck in his hands for a good grip.

You: Suddenly, an assortment of loud noises assaulted Sebastian's ears, making him flinch immediately as the doors opened. What the fuck was going on? It had been so quiet, always so quiet, and now it sounded like he had just fallen onto a battlefield back in Afghanistan, back in the desert. It made his entire body tense up, freeze in place, his pain forgotten for that short moment of shock. It took valuable seconds before he realised that he was being addressed, that Jim was giving orders and was trying to reassure him. Lie down? Funny. So many ridiculous requests today. What was next, a fucking handstand? Of course, Sebastian began moving without as much of a word of complaining, still out to please the Irishman, should it cost him his life or not. The process of lying down definitely wasn't easy, and the movements certainly weren't graceful in any kind of sense, but eventually, Sebastian managed to lie on the coat, again lying on his side to spare his back as much as possible. The loud noises were still happening around him, they seemed to get louder as the world moved around him, scaring him, making him close his eyes in an attempt to block out as much as possible. "Kitten..." Was Jim still there? He didn't know, he couldn't be sure, couldn't be sure this was the way to hell. Why was death so fucking loud? Why was it so straining to get there?

Stranger: The sound of gunfire went off, a pistol - its owner quickly meeting a fist to the face to put him down from one of Jim's own employees. One of the very special employees, who Jim had found after all that time. One of Moran's own men, who had worked with him as a sniper for the web. It was a suicide mission going in, Jim knew, but he had to try. He had to try. Jim only flinched, when he realized where the bullet had landed, jerking a bit and looking to his arm as red blossomed on the white dress shirt, blooming like some lovely red rose. He snarled, not even caring, not even feeling it, in the heat of all that was happening. He'd heard the noise from Sebastian, and Jim stayed low. He squatted in place, and took steps backward, tugging Sebastian along the tile. The Irishman may have been slimmer, but he held more strength than before; the adrenaline helping the course. He moved along the edge of the room, quickly pulling and tugging the man on the durable coat, and Jim was glad he'd gotten an ankle-length size. Sebastian was curled so innocently, and Jim's heart slammed in his chest like never before. He had to get him out, he had to get him out. The loading dock had been the facility's weak spot - guards easily bought and cameras easily shut off. The sliding had gone quicker than if they had walked, and safer, for the tiger. Jim fumbled to his pocket, taking out a card and swiping it on the black box by the door that lead towards the loading dock, and was grateful when the green light flashed and door clicked. He could have kissed the keycard, and he pushed the door open with his back, tugging Moran along less-friendly flooring, but still smooth. "Just a bit more, Tiger," Jim was wheezing his breaths, already dripping sweat from it all, and there it was. The gorgeous sprinter van, doors opening by a woman and male, who joined Jim quickly. "The explosion," Jim wheezed, as they hoisted Moran up with the coat like an old-fashioned gurney, and carried him towards the sprinter van. The explosion. They had to get out, and get out then.

You: [Ankle length lab coats really suck haha] The noises faded out eventually, replaced by a cool nothingness, soft wind blowing over his abused skin. he man hadn’t been outside in all that time, it was the first time smelling fresh air and hearing all those.. normal noises, which simply occurred if you stepped outside. Birds, cars, the wind… It was overwhelming for the traumatised blonde. If he could have, he'd have looked around, had touched the grass and felt the sun on his skin - Sebastian had always been a type for warmer climates - but he couldn't, he could barely grasp that he was outside before he was being shoved into a small space, the back of a car, and put onto a stretcher. There were more people, voices shouting and whispering around him, demanding needles and IV bags and water, water for fuck's sake!, but none of that let him lose the sight he had set on his kitten. There was blood on his sleeve, he realised after a while, using whatever energy he had left to reach out an arm towards the area where the shirt had gained its new, scarlet colour. "No..." That wasn't right, Jim wasn't supposed to be hurt, he was the one who pulled the strings in the background, he had men for the dirty work, he had Sebastian who'd give his life for him. This was not right.

Stranger: [Oh thank goodness I only had to wear them for clinical hours!] Poor Sebastian's hand had been grasped by one of the two medics, testing for veins. He was so dehydrated that they found difficulty getting an IV in him, but the fluids ran at their max once the needle found a bed. The two were going back and forth so mechanically, and only paused for a moment as the car was driving casually from the building, and a very hollow sound of thunder was heard. Thunder, on a clear day, and Jim didn't even move, seated with his back to the metal and his head tipped back, eyes shut. That goddamn facility then had a large, gaping hole in its side. What few men Jim had who he trusted were gone, but they had done so willingly. It was a valiant sacrifice, and Jim heard Sebastian whisper his word, tipping his head back and looking at the tiger, moving only softly every few moments from the sprinter van turning corners. Jim reached out to take the IV hand Sebastian had reached with, and held it with cold fingers, nodding to him. "It's alright," Jim said so softly, so much that his voice was barely heard. The medic immediately hoisted up a larger bag of TPN, and the milky fluid began running into Sebastian's veins. Jim watched it, breathing softly as they began driving down the wonderful M4, lost among the sea of cars. He licked his lips, eyes staying on those hollow ones of Moran, and he just stayed quiet as the medics worked. He was quiet, for then, because he would talk later, when they were alone. When Jim could apologize.

You: [Thank god mine's only knee length] The solider didn't even care for what the two medics were doing around him, barely felt their touches, more than used to people prodding and poking at him after what he had been through. No, all he cared for was the blood slowly drying into expensive white cotton, his worry only interrupted by the loud sound of the explosion he couldn't identify properly. His anxiety didn't last long; if Jim didn't seem panicked it had to be all right. It was warm in the car, warmer than anything Sebastian had felt in ages, and yet he was shivering lightly. The adrenaline, the exhaustion and the shock were all slowly building up, wearing his body and mind down. He tried to hold onto Jim's hand as tightly as possible, his fingers crooked lightly but he didn't care. Holding onto the Irishman was all that mattered, holding onto him until this hallucination, this dream, this way to hell, until it ended and Jim would disappear again. Who knew when he'd see him again? "Need to take better care, Kitten." Even then, he refused to use Jim's real name, having trained himself to not even consider it, even when he was drugged up or after a 48 hours torture session. No, those three letters were too important to bring them over his lips in case anyone was listening. The warmth and the soft movements of the van eventually managed to lull Sebastian in, his eyelids fighting his wish to keep being awake and alert. It was a hopeless battle, a fight he couldn't win, so he eventually slipped into unconsciousness, still holding onto Jim's hand.

Stranger: Cambridge was safe. It was safe, because Jim had made it safe. The CCTV cameras had been controlled, stilled in their movements for only blinks of the eye while the van made its way from London. And Jim, electronic resources depleted, relied on the driver to take them where they had to go. All the while, the criminal kept his hand holding Sebastian's, the medics not even giving it a second glance. Their focus was on 'More TPN,' 'Back fluids fluids down, can't bring him up too quick,' and, 'Get the oxygen ready, set it to 4, use the non-rebreather.' Jim didn't hear them, after a while, simply watching Sebastian's face. He'd missed it. God, he'd missed it. Even in the shape it was in, as gaunt as the other was, he was still the criminal's tiger. He was worn and his stripes grey, but he was still that tiger. And he was still that tiger, resting in a large bed. With IV poles at the bedside, and a monitor watching every move of his heart, he was still Sebastian. And Jim had stayed by the other's side, even as the hours passed, even as they had gotten the soldier to the safehouse in Cambridge. Even as they had gently taken him inside, gotten him safe, Jim was there, helping the others. He'd swatted away their requests to tend to his arm, until he was sure Sebastian was stable. The night had come, and the cool spring air blew in through the window Jim had opened. Moran's wounds dressed, the criminal felt as though he could rest, finally. Real, peaceful rest. He sat upright in a chair by the open window, arms crossed - one bandaged - and his head ducked down in sleep in the glow of the moon from outside.

You: [I am so sorry to interrupt, but it's literally 5:50 am, and I should have been in bed an hour ago (was waiting for my laundry). That's kinda also the reason for why my replies are getting worse, being dead tired and not being a native speaker don't mix well. Do you want to continue this over email?]

Stranger: [OH GOSH!]

Stranger: [YES PLEASE BUT GO SLEEP I am SO Sorry!]

You: [Noo don't apologise, you're really awesome and I couldn't get myself to stop oops]

Stranger: [Oh gosh no you're really amazing and this is so great, your Seb just - I couldn't just let him go I'm sorry, I know it could have gone REALLY dark but - ]

Stranger: [Go sleep and I'm here if you want to continue - I really hope you would like to, this is fantastic]

You: [I shall email you as soon as I'm up again... the fucking sun is rising, I have a thesis to write and I suppose sleeping really is a good idea. Have a nice day/night, dear stranger c: ]

Stranger: [Goodnight dear!!]

You have disconnected.