#no forbidden sleeve peaches this time

[sgnl---lxst]

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 1 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, curses, jungkook is lowkey a cocky asshole but we love him, mentions of ghosting (reader to Hoseok), mentions of frosh week, mentions of Nabi spraining her ankle, a frat party, beer pong, Sam Hwang, peach, explicit content: overhearing someone having sex, female masturbation, sex toy (vibrator), praising, nipple play, hickeys, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, degradation, Hoseok likes being called sir (lmao), whip (sorta, with a belt), choking (with a belt), safe word, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, balls fondling, jerking off, spitting in the other's mouth, Hoseok does not believe in aftercare (rip)

☆word count: 11.8k

☆a/n: CHAPTER ONE!! LET'S GET THIS JOURNEY STARTED BABY!!! thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, January 17th 

If there is one thing you’ve figured about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he is an insufferable prick, yet an endearing one. As your older brother’s best friend, Jungkook has taken a liking to teasing you, treating you like his own little sister. It was weird at first – the day you  met him, you were struck by his looks. Who wouldn’t be? Jungkook is tall, has a sleeve of tattoos, and he rocks an eyebrow and two lip piercings. 

It took you all but three days to realize that he is a too full of himself asshole. And had you known what you were signing up for when Taehyung suggested that you move in with him when his friend Jimin moved out to live with his girlfriend, maybe you wouldn’t have accepted.

You love Taehyung. He’s an incredible brother, has always taken care of you when you were younger and your mother was never home to do so. You love him enough that you didn’t mind moving in with him even though there was a third party you didn’t know.

Jungkook, that is.

It’s been months now. Months of living with Jungkook, of waking up to his insufferable smirk and even worse teasing, whenever Taehyung is not around. Because, of course, when your brother is here Jungkook is an angel, never once saying anything to you that could be taken the wrong way.

Thing is, Taehyung has always dreamed of studying abroad, in Paris. Has always wished to experience the French lifestyle, to wake up to eat croissants and gaze at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. So when he got the opportunity to do his winter semester over there, of course he jumped on the chance. 

You’ve been living alone in the same apartment as Jeon Jungkook for less than a month and you already wish May to be at your door and for Taehyung to come back.

It’s late. Sometime close to two am, and the bed creaking in the room next to yours, the one banging into the wall, has been keeping you up.

Or maybe the intermittent high-pitched clipped moans are what are keeping you up. Because, mind you, the walls of your apartment are paper-thin. So paper-thin sometimes you think you’re in Jungkook’s room while he’s ramming some girl he probably doesn’t even know the name of. Sometimes, you think you can almost picture him. Almost see the muscles of his back move under his skin as he jack-hammers into yet another girl, almost see his powerful thighs slap on hers each time he pushes in, almost see his fucked-out face when he comes with that loud grunt of his…

You miss Taehyung being around because Jungkook wasn’t as loud then. Still brought girls home every Thursday like clockwork, but made sure he wasn’t loud enough for the whole building to hear him. With Taehyung gone, Jungkook has stopped caring, and you have been suffering the consequences since then.

In truth, it hasn’t been that long. Less than three weeks, and you’ve heard Jungkook fuck like four times? You reckon it could be a lot worse… but he could also be respectful and not fuck people when you’re trying to sleep because you have a nine am class the next day.

The first time it happened, you were mortified. You listened to music, hoping you wouldn’t hear it anymore but, the thing is, his headboard bangs against the same wall your headboard is against. So you still felt it, and you suffered through the whole ordeal hoping you would disappear through the floor.

The second time it happened, you were annoyed. You considered knocking against the wall to tell him to shut the fuck up – or rather to tell the girl to shut the fuck up – but you resisted. Solely because you didn’t want to stir shit with Jungkook. You considered asking Taehyung to tell Jungkook to be more respectful, but it sounded childish and stupid so you eventually let it slide.

The third time it happened, you were… aroused. Maybe because it had been a long time since you had sex – the last time being in late November with Hoseok, a guy studying in the same major as you, though he’s Jungkook and Taehyung’s age. Yet, even though you felt aroused, you focused on all the ways you were going to murder Jungkook the next day.

Today… today the arousal is winning the game. It’s been making your heart run wild, and your grip on your sheets has your knuckles turning white, skin stretched taut over how hard you’re clenching your fists. 

And when you hear Jungkook say something that definitely sounds like “Good fucking girl”, you lose it. You’re too aroused, dripping from just hearing him, and you need to have the coil inside of you snap if you want to be able to sleep tonight.

With all the sounds emerging from his room, you doubt Jungkook is going to hear you. So you shamelessly rummage through the top drawer of your night table, searching for your vibrator, smiling in victory when your hand closes around it.

You’re wearing PJ shorts, and you quickly rid yourself of them as the girl lets out a short-clipped moan that makes you think you’re listening to porn, and not to your roommate fucking.

Though you reckon sex with Jungkook really does sound like porn.

You lie back in bed once you’re rid of your shorts, taking a hold of your vibrator. You turn it on, adjusting it to your favourite setting. You feel strange doing so, like you’re doing something you really shouldn’t be doing, but you can’t help it.

The second you press the vibrator on your clit, you forget all about how what you’re doing is wrong. All you can focus on is the pleasure that radiates through your body, and your eyes close tightly, images of Jungkook swirling in your brain.

When the girl moans again, and Jungkook tells her that she’s ‘taking it so well’, your free hand shoots to your breast, pinching your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s not enough, and you’re quick to move it under the shirt. You pinch hard, and you let out a breathy sound as your thighs instinctively close on your wrist.

Jungkook’s headboard starts banging against the wall even more, and your brain produces an image of Jungkook between your legs, fucking you until all you can think is his name. It has you pushing your vibrator inside of you, and you lightly moan again at the pleasurable intrusion. 

You let go of your nipple, moving that hand to your clit instead, and your fingers expertly start drawing circles on it. You listen to Jungkook’s grunts all along, to the girl’s moans, and maybe you’re a little too blissed out to realize they’re done, but when you reach your high you can’t help the broken moan you let out, a little too loud for the paper-thin walls of your apartment.

As you’re coming down from your high, you realize the apartment is eerily silent, and you swallow the lump of awkwardness that’s formed in your throat. You wipe your vibrator with some tissue, knowing you’ll have to actually clean it on the morrow, but you don’t want to kill the silence of the night just so you can put your vibrator back in its hiding spot right away. 

But you’re not stupid, and you know you need a trip to the bathroom anyway. You put your PJ shorts back on, grab your phone to use it as a flashlight so you don’t bump into a wall on the way to the bathroom, and you tiptoe all the way over there, hoping to be as soundless as possible.

You have to walk in front of Jungkook’s room to get to the bathroom, and then halfway across the living room. You notice his door is closed on your way, and you peacefully make it all the way to the bathroom. You quickly pee and clean yourself up, washing your hands before you open the door.

Which, you reckon might have been your demise. Because when you open the door of the bathroom, it’s to let out a high-pitched startled yelp at the sight of a shirtless Jungkook on the other side. The sound of the faucet must have hidden his footsteps.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, and in the dim light, you’re pretty sure Jungkook is smirking.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks after the silence has started to stretch into awkwardness.

You clench your jaw, gaze dropping to the ground. “You were disturbing my sleep.”

He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “Was I now?”

Your eyes shoot back to his face at the low huskiness of his tone, and you wish with all of your heart that you had the courage to punch him in the face. But you don’t, so all you reply is, “You need to start fucking your hookups somewhere else.”

His smirk falls into a pout. “I won’t go over to the girls’ places. But I can make sure they’re more silent next time.”

Your brain can’t help but wonder if he means ‘they’ as in he was fucking two girls or just they as in generally referring to a single person.

You obstinately remain silent for a moment, holding his gaze with surprising defiance. “Please do,” you finally choose to say, and the smirk makes its way back to his features.

“I promise,” he says, voice low once again, and you hate how it has something tightening inside of you once more. 

You hate it so much that you escape, wishing him good night as you walk around him. You feel the warmth of his body on the way, and you’re thinking about ways to stab him in the back when he says, “Sleep well, peach.”

Saturday, January 19th

You’ve taken to referring to last Wednesday night, or early Thursday morning, as The Incident. At least that’s what you call it when you talk about it with your friends, Ria and Nabi. Ria, who’s always had some sort of a crush on Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted each time it’s mentioned, and Nabi thinks he’s proven that he’s the biggest asshole in college.

You relate to both, and mostly agree with Nabi. 

You’re supposed to go to some party later tonight. Ria convinced you to pre-drink at the girls’ dorm before you go, considering it’s closer to the party than your apartment, and the three of you are sitting in a circle on the floor, with music playing in the background. Needless to say, Nabi has been complaining ever since you got there, because she doesn’t usually do parties, and Ria is so excited she’s got you convinced that tonight will be the best night of your life.

Almost.

“Shots?” Ria asks as if you haven’t already taken two shots each.

She’s holding the bottle of tequila up, a red flush to her cheeks and mischief lighting her gaze. You don’t find it in you to say no, because you know that without the tequila Nabi is never going to make it to the party.

“Let’s do this,” you say, offering her a smirk as Nabi hides her face in her hands.

“You girls are going to kill me,” she complains. 

“Come on,” Ria says, playfully pushing her on the shoulder. “Maybe that cute guy you like is going to be there!”

Nabi has had a crush on someone from your major, Kim Namjoon, ever since you met her at the beginning of Frosh week last semester. He’s a tall guy, with dimples whenever he smiles, and you can see why she’d have a crush on him. Thing is, Namjoon has been dating someone ever since then, and Nabi has just been suffering in silence.

You still remember the moment you saw the crush bubble to life. It was day three of Frosh Week, and Namjoon was in charge of your team, along with Hoseok. You, Nabi, and three other first years were winning the relay race, figuring out the puzzles so quickly you had a good advance on the other teams. In a leap of happiness, Nabi jumped over a small stone wall on campus. One of her feet got tangled, and she ended up spraining her ankle.

Namjoon had been right by her side, asking her if she was okay. And Nabi has been in love with him ever since that day, though she’d never dare say it aloud.

“I don’t like anyone,” she grumbles, but the way her cheeks flush red is telling.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon,” you singsong, offering her a shit eating grin. 

She retaliates by saying, “When’s the last time you’ve fucked Hobi? Didn’t you say he was the best lay of your life?”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, and Ria lets out a loud laugh.

“We stopped fucking in November, you know that!” you burst, feeling yourself turning crimson. “And it’s not like I have a crush on him, I stopped because it felt like he had a crush on me.”

Nabi has a winning smile on her lips. “And what’s so bad about that?”

“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “The sex was good, but I didn’t feel like dating him. Simple as that.”

“Why not?” Ria asks, tequila forgotten. “You never told us.” She adds a pout to her sentence, trying to get you to explain.

There’s no explanation. You just didn’t feel like it. You tell them as much, but Nabi doesn’t buy it. Ria, on the other hand, lets out a sound that has both you and Nabi startling.

“I know why!” she explains.

You cock an eyebrow. “Why?”

“You live with fucking Jeon Jungkook, of course you don’t want to date Hobi. Especially after The Incident.”

You laugh, as it’s just as ridiculous as you expected it to be. “Not at all. Jungkook is Tae’s best friend.”

Both your friends look at you, as if what you said was the stupidest shit they ever heard.

“What?”

“What does it change?” Nabi asks with a small voice. 

“Well,” you let out, because you don’t really know. It’s just weird to you, and you don’t know how to explain it. “For one, I’m pretty sure Tae would kill him if he ever laid a finger on me.”

“Tae is in Paris,” Ria innocently says.

“Irrelevant,” you say, chuckling. “He’s going to be back in just a few months.”

“A lot can happen in a few months,” she adds, wiggling her brows suggestively.

You roll your eyes before reaching out between the two of you. “Give me the tequila.”

“I’ll fuck him if you don’t,” she teases, and she cradles the tequila to her chest. “As a matter of fact, maybe I’ll try to fuck him tonight.”

“Have fun!” is all you answer before making grabby hands at her. “Now, give me the alcohol, let’s get plastered before we get there so we don’t have to drink the crappy frat booze.”

*****

The frat house hosting the party is wild. Has always been – you’ve always found they go too far with most of their parties. But they also host the most memorable parties, and you know tonight will be a blast the moment you set in to see the strung LED light, shining different patterns of colours around the main room. A table in the corner is stacked high with every bottle of hard alcohol imaginable, and there are three coolers you assume are holding beer or something of the sorts. 

One of the guys – Dave? – shows you three where you can leave your coats, on a bed in the upstairs bedroom, and then he walks you to the alcohol table, offering to pour you some shots.

Nabi giggles, because by the time you left their dorm, she got quite drunk, claiming she needed it if she were to run into Namjoon after what you and Ria had said. She accepts the shot she’s handed, though half of it has spilled on her hand by the time the guy gives you yours. He puts salt on your hands, carefully, as Ria makes fun of Nabi, and you look around, scanning the crowd. You recognize a few people from your class, along with the usual party crowd of your college. You smile at two guys you’ve spoken to before at least once, before resuming your attention on Dave (?) as he hands you a slice of lemon.

When the four of you are ready, you lick the salt, knock back the shot, and then bite in the lemon to chase the taste of tequila away. It’s cheap tequila, and even with lemon the taste lingers while you prepare vodka cranberries for you and your friends. And though Ria loves dancing, you and Nabi win as you choose to head to the kitchen, where you know the music isn’t usually as loud.

The first thing you notice when you enter the kitchen is the beer pong table in the middle. Jeon Jungkook is currently playing, along with Jimin, another of your brother’s friends. As he sees you, Jimin raises his glass, offering you a wide grin, and then he punches Jungkook in his side before motioning to you.

Jungkook notices you then, and he offers you a smirk as he eyes you up and down. You feel shy for half a beat, though you know you look good. You’re wearing a green corset along with a pair of black leather pants, and you know the two pieces of clothing hug your body perfectly. Plus, Ria did your makeup, and Ria never fails when it comes to makeup. So you wait as Jungkook looks at you, hoping the foundation Ria put on your face is thick enough for him not to see you blush as The Incident inevitably comes back to your mind.

You look away, and then you see Hoseok hovering by glass sliding doors, along with Namjoon and their other friend Yoongi. Hoseok is busy with a conversation, and when he bursts out laughing you can hear it clear as day.

Why didn’t you want to date him? You don’t know. You actually really don’t know, because he ticks off all the boxes. But something was missing, you presume, and sometimes you hate yourself for it.

He must have sensed your attention, and he turns his head towards you. You don’t miss the way his smile falls a little, and he nods once in recognition. When you smile, his mouth closes to offer you one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles, and your gaze drops away to the cup in your hand.

Of course, Ria has a nefarious plan in mind, because she hooks her arm with yours and Nabi’s, pulling you towards the trio of guys. You’re fully aware that it’s mostly for Nabi, and that it’s stupid because last you’ve heard, Namjoon is still dating his girlfriend, but you let your friend pull you towards the men, gaze still stubbornly hiding in your cup.

You watch the liquid slosh around as you stop in front of them, and Namjoon greets you. Hoseok falls eerily silent, and Yoongi asks you all how you’ve been doing.

You only join in the conversation when you’ve taken a long sip from your cup to ease your nerves. Not that it really helped, but you reckon just standing there in silence would probably make things more awkward than anything else.

“Nabi is pretty drunk,” Ria is saying when you finally look up from the cup. 

“Am not!” Nabi insists, voice slurred. “Or maybe just a little.”

Namjoon laughs, while Yoongi chuckles. “As long as you don’t fall and sprain your ankle again, I think you’re alright.”

“Won’t fall again,” Nabi promises. “Not with these two with me.” She says that motioning to you and Ria, and it somehow brings Namjoon’s attention to you.

“I saw your essay on the synthesis and control of energy metabolism,” he tells you, a dimpled smile on display. “It was pretty good.”

You can’t help but slide your eyes to Nabi, who wrote a far better essay on human health and bacteriophage in your opinion, and you don’t miss the way her gaze drops to the ground.

“Thanks,” you reply to Namjoon nonetheless.

He’s started TA-ing to help out Seokjin, one of the biochemistry grad students. All of you are biology students, except Ria and Yoongi. Ria is in administration, and Yoongi studies music, his concentration being piano and producing.

There’s an awkward silence, and you glance towards Hoseok, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. He’s good-looking, even though he’s simply dressed in a T-shirt with some graphics on the front and a pair of discoloured jeans. Knowing him, he probably has a crazy jacket upstairs, because you know he’s good when it comes to fashion.

It’s what attracted you to him in the first place.

“How are you?” you ask him, and you notice Yoongi’s pointed gaze on you. It’s disapproving, you think, but the question left your mouth without you even wanting it to.

“I’ve been great,” Hoseok replies, though it’s a little colder than what you know him to be.

You nod, gaze dropping to the ground as Ria strikes a conversation with the three others, clearly trying to give you and Hoseok some space. It has the two of you just standing in aimless silence, until the sound of whooping behind you attracts your gaze to the beer pong table, where Jimin and Jungkook are celebrating a win. “I’m…” you trail off as you turn back to look at him. “I’m glad. How are your classes?”

He sighs. “They’re harder than first-year classes.”

You don’t miss the ghost of a teasing glint in his eyes, and you immediately latch onto it. “Oh, please, you struggled in molecular biology. I got A+ in the class.”

He chuckles, and you physically relax. Because you haven’t really talked since you ended things in November, finals coming in the way of partying and other events where you would run into him. So you didn’t know before today where you stood with him, and you’re relieved that he doesn’t seem like he’s holding a grudge.

“You weren’t in Lester’s class,” he points out. “Even Namjoon almost failed Lester’s class.”

You gasp in fake outrage. “No way! And now he’s the biochem TA.”

“I know,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The renewed complicity between the two of you is easy, you realize, and when he suggests playing a game of beer pong, you immediately agree. Or maybe you only agree because you don’t know where Nabi, Ria, Yoongi and Namjoon went, only that they aren’t next to you anymore.

 Jungkook and Jimin are still undefeated at the table, and when Jungkook catches sight of you moving closer, he winks before shooting.

You’re not surprised when the ball goes right in a cup, leaving only one on the table. Jimin laughs as their opponents claim Jungkook cheated, and Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“You should know better than to call me a cheater, bro,” Jungkook says, and he runs a hand in his hair.

An infuriating small strand falls in his big doe eyes, but he seemingly doesn’t care. He glances at you once again, eyes trailing between you and Hoseok.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks when his gaze settles back on you.

You don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your cleavage before moving back to your face.

“I’m here to beat your ass,” you reply, and you offer him a shit-eating grin.

He laughs, and he sets his attention on Hoseok. “I hope you’re good, bro, because she’s just declared war.” And then he looks at you, smirking that insufferable smirk once more. His doe eyes narrow threateningly, and you find yourself wishing you had never heard him fuck before.

Because all your brain can picture right now is how you came to the sound of his grunts a couple of days ago.

“What?” you can’t help but say, though he looks away from you as the two other guys shoot, completely missing the three cups left in front of Jimin and Jungkook. 

You notice Jimin looking at you with an eyebrow cocked, and the smile on his lips means nothing good. You furrow your brows, because you know how much of a gossip he is, but thankfully enough for you, he has to throw.

You watch as he does so, landing it right in the last cup. Jungkook of course throws right in the cup too, claiming the victory for them as the two other guys grumble and leave the table, leaving the place free for you and Hoseok.

You meet Hoseok’s gaze, offering him a small smirk. “I hope you’re ready to get fucked.”

You only realize how crude your words sounded, especially considering your history with him, when he starts laughing, that contagious laugh you’ve always found cute.

“I mean, I’m a pretty good shot,” he says once you’ve calmed down. “Are you?”

You wince. “Once in a while I’m good,” you answer truthfully. “Most of the time I suck.”

“Well hopefully you’ll be good tonight,” he teases, gently nudging you with his elbow.

You offer him a determined nod, before turning to face Jungkook and Jimin. You quickly put the solo cups back in position, as Jungkook watches you with a half-smile on his lips. You don’t know what to make of it, so you ignore him.

A small, tiny, minuscule voice at the back of your head tells you he probably knows about The Incident, but you ignore it entirely like you’ve been doing for the past few days.

Turns out Hoseok really is a good shot. He lands all of his shots, but of course, it has to be the day you suck. You don’t land any, up until the redemption that brings you back into the game when Jungkook and Jimin are about to win.

It makes you scream in happiness, and you throw your arms around Hoseok’s neck, right as his hands lay flat on your waist. He pulls you close, laughing in your ear until you let go, and you have the decency to feel bad.

You’re pretty sure you broke his heart in November, and you’re pretty sure you’ll only end up breaking it again. But there’s just something in the way Jungkook is staring from the other side of the table, smile gone, that makes you want to cling to Hoseok. So you do, and when he stands behind you to help you with your next shot, you let him put one hand on your hip.

Your gaze meets Jungkook’s, and you watch as his eyes dip to the fingers on your hip. He cocks his head to the side, wets his lips, and then an infuriating smirk lights up his features dangerously until you feel like you need to look away or else you’ll combust. So you glance at Jimin, who is just smiling prettily because when is he not, and then you focus on the lone solo cup you have to aim for.

“What you want to do,” Hoseok says, leaning so he can speak in your ear. You’re infinitely aware of how his pelvis brushes your ass, and your breath catches in your throat. He continues, “is to throw in a parabola. That way you won’t hit the rim of the cup”. He grabs your wrist, lifting your hand. “From this height, it should work.”

You nod, because you don’t think you can answer, especially not as you can hear Jungkook snickering from where he’s standing. Instead, you really focus on the cup, and when you’re about to throw, Jungkook speaks up.

“Put it in, baby.”

Your brain short-circuits, and it’s no wonder you miss by a good, few inches. Jimin is a giggly mess next to Jungkook, Hoseok can’t resist his laugh, and all you can do is glare at Jungkook’s satisfied smile.

“What the fuck?” you let out.

He winks at you. “Gotta learn to not get distracted, peach.”

You hate the nickname. He knows that you do, and it’s the reason why he’s been using it for months now. Ever since one late night where you played Mario Kart together with Taehyung and Jimin, and you kept choosing Princess Peach as your character. When you went in the kitchen to grab a drink, Jungkook followed you and teased you about it, and now the nickname has stuck.

Though evidently never in front of Taehyung.

You wish you had a snarky retort in you, but all you can do is think about The Incident, and pray he can’t tell that your cheeks are burning up because of him and not because of the alcohol.

You end up losing the beer pong game, and you cringe internally as you watch Hoseok dapping Jungkook and Jimin up. You begrudgingly congratulate them, as Jungkook teases you for the loss.

“Would have thought your brother taught you better than this,” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You roll your eyes, glancing at Hoseok, but he’s striking a conversation with Jimin. 

“Tae and I didn’t spend all that much time together, Jungkook,” you remind him. “You know I just moved in with you guys because you needed someone after Jimin left.”

Jungkook shrugs. “You seem pretty close to him.” 

He falls silent, pulling at his piercing as you glance at his features. You’ve left your liquid courage somewhere on the table, and you really wish you had it with you right now. Only so you could avoid the sudden wistful look in Jungkook’s haze, though it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it.

“He’s really protective of you,” he comments as you too remain silent, not knowing what to say.

You chuckle, because if there is a thing that is true, it’s that your older brother is an overbearing asshole. “That he is,” you agree, and you both laugh.

“Hey, do you want a drink?” Hoseok suddenly asks, and you realize that Jimin has disappeared. 

You’re pretty sure Jungkook is eyeing him up and down when you reply, “Please, I need a new drink.”

Hoseok beams, and you make to move towards him when Jungkook grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes widen, The Incident flashing in your mind, but his tattooed fingers let go of you as you throw him an inquisitive look.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” he admits. “I came with my car, thought I’d offer to drive you home.”

At that, your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in surprise. “What?”

He shrugs, corner smile back on his pink lips. “As long as you don’t get sick, that is.”

You ponder for a time, because you were supposed to sleep over at Nabi and Ria’s dorm tonight. You reckon heading home would probably be better, especially now that Hoseok has caught your attention again.

Maybe you can give Jungkook a piece of his medicine.

“Ayt,” you tell him, moving closer as a secretive smile moves on your lips, brought up by the evil plan that is just starting to form in your brain. “I’ll find you later?”

Jungkook looks down at you, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. A smirk moves on his lips and he glances at Hoseok before settling his doe eyes back on you.

He looks nothing like a doe when he says, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

And then he’s the one that walks away, and you can’t breathe for a few seconds as Hoseok waits patiently, either unaware of the situation or not caring. Though you know he knows Jungkook is your roommate – he probably just thinks Jungkook is being nice.

You inhale deeply, before turning to look at Hoseok as you let out your breath. “So, drinks?”

He smiles, genuinely, nodding his head as he offers you his hand to take. To your surprise, he pulls you close to him, and the way his gaze looks down on you makes you all too aware that you used to fuck him, and he used to fuck you good.

“What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, head dipping so he can ask the question in your ear.

“What do you want?”

His smile turns a little dangerous, and he looks over your head to the doorway to the living room. “Shall we?”

You laugh, nodding your head enthusiastically, and you let him pull you behind him. He guides you to the drink table in the living room, where he makes you a rum and coke as you scan your surroundings. You spy Ria and Nabi dancing, and you only understand why when you notice that Namjoon is nearby too, with Yoongi who’s just standing to the side, scrolling on his phone as if bored.

You know Hoseok likes to dance. That’s how you first kissed all those months ago, so you don’t hesitate to ask if he wants to join your friends after you’ve both drank a couple of sips from your respective solo cups. He obviously agrees, and you take his hand to guide him to your friends. You’re painfully aware of how Yoongi raises his head when you get closer, eyes dropping to your entwined hands. He furrows his brows disapprovingly, and you wonder if he’ll speak up.

If he’ll speak up and ruin your plan for you. 

He doesn’t, instead meeting your gaze as if daring you to do something. It makes you feel bad for a split second until Hoseok lets go of your hand to rest a hand on your hip as he nestles his lean body against your back.

“You know,” he says in your ear, and you look away from Yoongi, refusing to acknowledge his challenge. “I always wondered why you ghosted me.”

You gulp, and you follow his lead as he makes you sway your hips against him. Ria whistles and your eyes widen a little as if to say ‘please not right now’.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it’s true. “I didn’t really mean to ghost you, just got busy and…”

He laughs, and you’re surprised to hear it ring true. “Y/n,” he says. He leans even closer, and his lips brush your ear. It makes goosebumps rise all over your body, right as he continues, “You can say you got scared. I gave you plenty of reasons to be scared.”

Because you had agreed on no feelings, and he still had developed some, hadn’t he?

“I’m still sorry, ghosting you was shitty of me.”

He chuckles, and you’re starting to recognize the man that he is in the bedroom. His voice is low, husky, when he says, “Should I punish you for it?”

The Incident and Jeon Jungkook are thousands of miles from your thoughts when his words settle in, making heat pool at your core.

“You’d still want to do this?” you ask, breathlessly.

He nibbles at your earlobe, and you instinctively tilt your head to the side to give him better access. He kisses under your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, and this time Ria fully hollers in front of you.

You glare at her, only to see that she and Nabi are having the time of their life watching you.

“I haven’t been able to forget how good your pussy feels wrapped around my dick,” Hoseok replies after he’s sucked a hickey on your neck. “Trust me, if I can fuck you again, I’ll do it.”

You don’t hesitate when you turn around, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And you know you would. Especially considering how tense he was when you first talked to him tonight. 

“Sweet of you,” he comments, and a smirk grows on his lips. He pulls away from you, taking a sip of rum and coke. “I wasn’t catching feelings for you, if that’s what you were worried about.” He pauses as his face falls fully serious. “You just don’t like when people treat you right.”

You’re insulted. You really are, yet… he isn’t entirely wrong. The minute a guy gets too close, you dip – you blame that on the fact your father abandoned you and Taehyung when you were still kids.

“Is that why Yoongi is glaring at me?” you ask, a little colder than intended. 

The message still passes, and Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care what Yoongi thinks. He always thinks he knows me better than I do but, trust, he doesn’t.”

You’re surprised at just how bitter Hoseok’s sentence sounds. You always thought Yoongi and he were best friends. It’s strange to think that maybe they aren’t, or at least maybe they aren’t close enough to be.

“Anyway,” Hoseok adds when you remain silent for a little too long. “If you’re willing to fuck again, I’d be down. I haven’t found another pussy like yours since the last time we fucked.”

Which coincidentally is the last time you had sex with anyone. You’re not surprised Hoseok fucked some other people after you – with his easy charm, you know he can have anyone wrapped around his finger pretty easily. 

And if he wants to participate in your evil plan so willingly, who are you to tell him no?

“The night’s barely started,” you point out. “But maybe you can come back to my place later?”

You’ve never invited him over before, because if there’s a thing that scares you more than anything in this world, it’s Taehyung hearing you having sex with some guy. But now that your brother is in Paris, you figure it doesn’t matter.

Plus, if you want Jungkook to get a taste of his own medicine, you have to bring Hoseok home.

“Deal,” Hoseok tells you, and he seals the deed with a searing and unexpected kiss.

You still kiss him back, hungrily, your body remembering just how good Hoseok can make you feel. You just have to make it through a party – with Jungkook driving you home, you know it’s likely you won’t leave until the party is starting to dwindle down.

When you pull away, Hoseok licks his lips once, as if wanting to remember the taste of you, before saying, “I’ll find you at the end of the party”.

You nod, and begrudgingly let him leave when he walks over to where Yoongi is standing, now joined by a baffled Namjoon, who glances between the two of you a couple of times. You ignore him, instead focusing on Ria and Nabi as they drunkenly pull you away, laughing wildly.

“What the fuck was that?” Ria asks in between two sets of laughter as you emerge in the kitchen. “I thought you said you didn’t want him anymore.”

You don’t want to jinx your plan, so all you can think to do is shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It just happened.”

In a weird moment of soberness, Nabi says, “Please don’t lead him on. He’s a decent guy”.

You tell your friends what he told you, and they both seem taken aback, yet they don’t question it. After all, the amount of alcohol in your blood is enough to make it so it’s a little hard to think profoundly, and inhibitions have flown out the window before you even got to the party.

After the conversation is over, your two friends insist on playing beer pong, claiming that they need you to encourage them. You recognize Dave at the table – you think that’s his name – and you all cozy up next to him as you ask to be next. You linger behind, mostly because you’ve noticed someone you’ve been avoiding ever since you got to college last semester, and you hope he doesn’t notice you.

Maybe he’s one of the reasons why you’ve been struggling with people treating you right, like Hoseok mentioned. Because Sam was your first love, and he played you immensely.

If he notices you, he doesn’t look like he does, instead keeping his arm tightly wrapped around the girl next to him. You don’t know her, and you wouldn’t even care if you did – you stopped caring about Sam a long time ago. But you’re still a little put off at the sight of him, and when you catch sight of Jungkook and Jimin by the backyard’s sliding door, breathing in some fresh air, you decide to join them.

Which, you reckon, is a very stupid idea. Because they are Taehyung’s friends, not yours, but they feel safer for you than being in the vicinity of Sam Hwang right now.

“Weren’t you sucking face with what’s-his-name just a second ago?” Jimin asks straight away as you stop next to them.

You snort in your cup, taking a long sip from your drink. “Maybe,” you say once you’ve swallowed.

“Tae would have killed him,” Jimin jokes, looking at Jungkook.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze is focused on a spot on your neck, and you rub it mindlessly. 

“Good thing he’s in Paris,” you point out. “And I can trust you two to not tell him?” 

You say it like a question, though you know it’s useless. Jimin is the biggest gossip you know, and you expect Taehyung to be scolding you by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.

Though that attracts Jungkook’s attention to your face, and he meets your gaze with that same infuriating smirk he was sporting earlier. 

“Lips sealed,” he says, uselessly because both of you know that Jimin is the real danger.

Before anything else can be said, Jimin points towards the beer pong table. “Didn’t feel like playing with your friends?”

You shrug, taking another sip of rum and coke. “They don’t need me.”

“Pretty sure you’d be a liability anyway,” Jungkook teases.

Jimin and he laughs at your expanse, and you’re stuck glaring at Jungkook, right as The Incident takes the forefront of your thoughts again.

You wish it would stop haunting you. Wish it would leave you alone, because you feel like it was the cataclysm to a series of bad decisions. The first event of a butterfly effect that is threatening to push you over the edge of the cliff.

“I did get the redemption shot,” you point out, and Jungkook playfully nudges you again.

“Doesn’t count, your little boyfriend got all the other shots for you.”

Your gaze widens. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you quickly defend.

Admittedly a tad too quickly.

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, wetting his lips before playing with his piercing. “Of course not.”

You narrow your eyes at him, though you remain silent because you feel like saying something else would be far too incriminating. 

“Leave her alone,” Jimin jokes. “She did her best.” And then his gaze settles on you, and you balk at the mischief burning in his eyes. “Not her fault if her best sucks.”

“Bruh,” you let out, and you all burst out laughing.

After that, the conversation moves on easily, as you ask Jimin about his girlfriend. He starts gushing about the girl – he always does whenever Sera is mentioned. He tells you about her latest publication, and Jungkook looks bored out of his mind by the time something catches his attention, and he walks away from you and Jimin.

You watch him leave, somehow disappointed, but you entertain the conversation with Jimin for longer still. And Jimin is fun to be around, easy to talk to, and you don’t realize but an hour has passed before he glances down at his phone.

“Shit, I gotta go,” he admits. “I told Sera I wouldn’t be home too late.”

Your solo cup has been empty for half of the hour, so you raise it and say, “Go home, I’m going to get a refill.”

He hugs you goodbye, though you both walk together towards the living room. You part ways as you head to the drink table, once again scanning the room in search of your friends. They are nowhere to be seen, so you set on exploring the house after you’ve made another rum and coke for yourself. 

You find the stairs, and you head upstairs thinking they might have needed to settle in a calmer environment. Knowing Nabi, it is to be expected, yet you don’t find them anywhere upstairs. There’s a closed door leading to what you think is a bathroom, but you refuse to look in there.

You almost let out a startled yelp as it opens, and Jungkook steps out, pretty lips swollen red as he leads a girl behind him. At the sight of you, he lets go of her hand, and she looks between the two of you curiously. As both of you remain entirely silent, she furrows her brow but then dips, running a hand through her visibly tangled-up hair.

You can easily imagine what she and Jungkook were doing just a moment ago.

“Really?” you tell him.

His tongue pokes his cheek, and he laughs. “You asked me not to fuck at home anymore.”

You purse your lips, actually surprised that he took your word into account.

“Didn’t expect you would respect it.”

He doesn’t fake the offence that paints his features. “I’m not an asshole, peach.”

The nickname is said condescendingly, and you reckon you should feel a little bad. Because you’re still set on bringing Hoseok home tonight, no matter if Jungkook decided not to fuck anyone at home again.

“Sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say.

Silence moves between you, and Jungkook leans against the doorframe, arms folding on his chest. He watches you carefully, as if he’s never really seen you before and, frankly, you wish he’d looked at you like this before.

It’s a treacherous thought, and you push it away as best as you can. 

“Jimin went home,” you tell him, feeling the need to fill the silence with something, anything.

Before he can reply, a group of people move upstairs, talking loudly. Jungkook pushes up from the doorframe, walking towards you.

“Do you want to go home too?” he asks when he’s right next to you.

He’s tall. You have to tilt your head back to be able to hold his gaze, and damn you, you’re hypnotized. You don’t want to look away, don’t think that you can.

“You already want to go home?” you answer, wetting your lips, and his eyes drop to your mouth.

He scoffs, as if it’s an inconvenience, before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not drinking, I don’t see why I’d stay longer.”

Right.

“Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious. 

He smiles, with no hint of that infuriating smirk for once. “Got morning shift at the library tomorrow.”

The fact he works in a library still makes no sense to you. Though he’s claimed it’s because that way, it’s easy to approach all the pretty, intelligent women who don’t go to parties. Easy targets for a fuckboy like him.

“Ah,” you let out. “Well…” you glance at the group of people as they get out of the room where the coats are. When you resume your attention on Jungkook, you’re struck thinking he’s moved even closer. “My friend is supposed to sleep over, can I go find him?”

You say it innocently, and you don’t miss the way Jungkook frowns slightly. “Who?”

You force Hoseok’s name out, mostly because the way Jungkook is looking at you right now is making you want to disappear through the floor.

“Ah, the guy you played beer pong with,” Jungkook comments. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

You furrow your brows. “He isn’t.”

A smirk grows on his lips. “Then why are you bringing him home, peach?”

Your own smirk is easy to come to your lips as you reply, “I’ll let you imagine.”

“Your brother wouldn’t approve.”

As he licks at his piercing, you can’t help but look down at his lips. “Good thing you’re not my brother then.”

He doesn’t reply, only looks over your head as you hear the unmistakable laugh of Jeong Hoseok. It makes you take a step back, and you turn to see Hoseok appearing at the top of the stairs. To your surprise, he’s accompanied by Ria, Nabi and Namjoon, but Yoongi is nowhere in sight.

Namjoon is helping Nabi walk, as she’s clearly gotten even drunker since you abandoned them downstairs. You wince at her sight, knowing she’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow. 

Ria catches sight of you and Jungkook, and her gaze widens.

“Here you are!” she shrieks. “We were looking for you everywhere.”

You don’t miss the way Hoseok looks you up and down, and you thank your stars for making this so easy. “I was thinking of heading home,” you tell the group, and you glance over your shoulder to confirm it with Jungkook.

He’s got an unreadable expression on his features, one that makes you think you’re going to enjoy your payback way too much.

When you look back to the group, it’s to see Hoseok cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘Am I still coming?’ You nod, and you take a few steps towards him, interlocking your fingers with his. Ria watches as if it’s a scene from her favourite movie, and you all enter the room with the coats. 

You find yours in the mess on the floor, fast enough to catch sight of Jungkook as he’s waiting outside the door. You recognize his coat in the mess, so you grab it before bringing it to him.

“Here,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “Thanks, peach.”

Hoseok is next to follow, and the two guys eye each other before you hear Namjoon say, “Are you sure you’re fine with getting her home?”

You look into the room – Nabi is now lying on the bed, laughing to herself.

“Hopefully, yeah,” Ria answers. “I’ve already called an Uber.”

Namjoon is watching Nabi with a strange expression on his features when he says, “You guys are still at the dorms?”

“Yeah, we are,” Nabi slurs. “Where else would we be?”

Namjoon chuckles, and he glances your way. You immediately look away, right as he says, “I’ll come with you guys, then.”

Your thoughts head to his girlfriend for a few seconds, feeling bad for the girl, though clearly, Namjoon is just trying to be a gentleman. When you see Jungkook and Hoseok waiting patiently for you, you forget all about Nabi, Ria, Namjoon and his hypothetic girlfriend, especially as you see the not-so-genuine smile on Hoseok’s lips, and the dark look in Jungkook’s gaze.

Maybe your plan was a little too evil after all.

*****

The night is cold outside ─ arctic ─ and you wish you were drunker. That way, you’d barely feel it, but no, you’re forced to a shivering mess as you walk behind Jungkook towards his car, which he was forced to park a few streets over because of a recent snowstorm. All that can be heard is the sounds of your shoes crunching in the snow and the distant buzz of the highway. Up above, the stars twinkle in the night, and smoke moves from your mouth to create a cloud over your head.

You hate winter. Always have, and always will. Especially when it’s so cold you feel like your face will fall off, and you reckon tonight is one of the coldest nights in a while. 

Your eyes trail to Hoseok, and you smile in relief – at least your bed won’t be cold tonight.

You finally reach Jungkook’s car, and he unlocks the doors, the sound reverberating through the cold air. You sit in the back seat with Hoseok, pushing Jungkook’s gym bag to the side, and Jungkook is quick to turn on the engine, blasting the heater on. He meets your gaze in the rearview mirror as he waits for the engine to be warm enough to actually start driving. 

For a moment, you forget Hoseok is next to you. All you can focus on is Jungkook’s gaze. Where it’s usually wide, big and innocent, his eyes are narrowed now, as if he’s eyeing you. Judging you, even. Judging your choices, and you think he’s full of shit for it – he’s the first one to fuck around whenever he has the opportunity, after all.

A moment later, he deems the car finally ready, and he looks away, focusing on the street instead. He turns up the music on the stereo, and you watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. You do so until you feel Hoseok’s hand landing on your thigh, which attracts your attention to him.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Hoseok says, not too loud, but clearly Jungkook hears because his fingers stop tapping on the wheel.

You smile, glancing down at Hoseok’s lips. They look chapped from the cold, yet when he smiles that bright smile of his back, you can’t help but think they are still inviting.

“Please don’t judge the state of the apartment,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. “This idiot doesn’t know how to –“

Jungkook slams the brakes, and you whip your head towards him as the aftershock sends you back into your seat. His eyes are gleaming with barely concealed mischief, and the infuriating smirk graces his lips.

“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t seem apologetic at all.

You roll your eyes, but that kills the conversation until you arrive at your apartment, which thankfully isn’t too far away from the party. Jungkook parks out front, and you all file out of the car, walking up the stairs to your door. You unlock it while the two men stand next to you, and you’re not sure what’s colder – them, or the actual winter night.

You’re not sure you want to know the answer either.

Warm air wraps you in its embrace as you open the door and step in, and you quickly shut it after the two men to make sure the cold doesn’t come in too much. By the time you’ve turned back around, Jungkook’s already halfway to his bedroom.

“Good night,” he says over his shoulder. 

For some reason, you expected him to be more of an ass about the situation, but you’re reduced to thinking he actually doesn’t care all that much. You watch him until he disappears in his room before your eyes slide to Hoseok.

He’s been observing you all this time, and the moment your eyes meet, he smiles.

“We can hang our coats in the closet,” you tell him as you unzip yours, and he follows your motion.

You grab a hanger for him, handing it to him before taking off your coat and hanging it. Once that is done, you head towards your room, pit-stopping in the kitchen to grab glasses of water. You reckon you didn’t expect him to be so silent, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable.

Even when you’re in your room, and you’ve plugged in your fairy lights, Hoseok still doesn’t say a thing. 

“You good?” you ask him, doing your best to calm your sudden nerves.

Was it a good idea to bring him here after all?

He grins, nodding once. “The apartment isn’t as messy as you let it sound like.”

Not expecting that at all, you let out a small laugh. But he isn’t wrong – out of the three of you, Taehyung is by far the messiest. And now that he is gone, Jungkook and you have managed to keep the apartment tidy and clean, though sometimes Jungkook does leave some dirty dishes around.

“Oh,” you let out, and you chuckle. “Yeah, we cleaned this week.”

Last Wednesday, actually. Right before Jungkook had his pussy appointment, it turns out.

Hoseok looks around, and you gaze at his honey skin for a time. It looks warm in the lights, and his smile is still just as blinding when he offers it to you.

“Like your room.”

You scan it as if you haven’t lived here for months now. You’ve brought most of the stuff you had at home – except your collection of plushies. Polaroid pictures of you growing up are hung on threads over your desk, which is a little messy from the project you were working on yesterday. Your laptop lays there unattended, screen black, and you walk over to shut it absentmindedly. 

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you tell him, and you don’t have time to turn around for him to put his hand on your hip like he was doing earlier at the party. 

You take a long swig of water, before putting the glass down on your desk. Hoseok imitates you, and then his other hand finds a home on your waist.

“Feels like you,” he whispers, head dipping down so he can say the words in your ear.

You shiver, eyes fluttering shut, as he moves your hair out of the way before kissing on the hickey he sucked on your skin at the party.

“Yeah?” you breathe out.

He nods, and you feel him move against your neck. He pulls you closer, and your breath itches in your throat when you feel his dick against your ass.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you again for so long.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and one of his hands moves to your neck, holding you firmly into place. “But you had to run away, thinking you knew me. Baby,” he pauses, as his fingers dig in your arteries, making your head swim with the lack of oxygen, “you don’t know me at all. And I’m going to fucking punish you for it tonight. Understood?”

He releases his hold on your neck, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Yes.”

“Mmh?”

You know exactly what he wants, and it makes your insides boil again. “Yes, sir.”

He smirks against you, before biting at the skin of your neck. “You’ll be a good little slut for me?”

You nod, entirely unable to form a sentence. You’ve completely forgotten that the goal of tonight is to make Jungkook pay for how he’s been having loud sex. All you can think about right now is the man behind you.

“Then turn around, baby. Strip out of your clothes.”

You obey, mostly because Hoseok brings out a submissive part of you that just craves to do what he wants. Yes, you’ve always been more on the submissive side. But with other people, you can’t help the brat in you.

You fear being a brat with Hoseok would be a very dangerous game to play.

You don’t break the eye contact as you take off your clothes, slowly. He doesn’t look away from you, though he wets his lips as if the sight of you is making him hungry. 

Hoseok has a duality you have rarely seen before. Where he is an incredibly sweet person in his regular life, his bedroom self turns into a demon, a force to be reckoned with. No wonder sex with him is always so good.

When you’re finally naked, panties pooling around your ankles, Hoseok offers you a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but he slowly undoes his belt, before motioning for you to get closer.

Only one step separates you from him, and then you’re standing right in front of him. He raises his hand, making you tilt your head back, and then he captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You can’t help but moan when he swats the belt at your side, the leather making your skin tingle. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your hands instinctively grab onto the hem of his shirt.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, making you let go of it. “Get on your knees, baby.”

You drop to your knees, eyes darting to the bulge in his pants once before he makes you tilt your head back again. You gulp, right as he wraps his belt around your neck until the buckle is pressing against your skin. He doesn’t make it tight enough to hurt, but your hands still shake a little at being so vulnerable in front of him.

“You remember the safe word?” he asks.

“Red.”

He nods appreciatively. “And if you can’t speak, you tap my leg, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck you look so good like this.”

Not knowing if you can touch him, you just smile up at him, wetting your lips.

“Want to get a taste of me?”

You already know where this is going to lead. Hoseok fucked your mouth more than once in the three months you had casual sex with him. So you answer, “I want you to come down my throat.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

With his free hand, he unbuttons his pants, before pushing them down his legs. He doesn’t step out of them, instead palming himself through his boxers. You watch the imprint of his dick, salivating at the sight, especially as precum is already wetting the fabric.

Hoseok doesn’t have a particularly big dick. But whenever he fucks you, it feels like he’s the biggest you’ve ever had, mostly because he knows how to use it. Knows how to move and snap his hips in a way that makes you think you’re seeing into the future. It also makes it so sucking his dick doesn’t hurt your jaw too much, so you’re able to do it for a longer period of time.

Tonight, you have an inkling that you’ll be doing it for a while.

He pushes his underwear down, freeing his dick. Your eyes drop to it, not surprised to see the angry, swollen tip. He looks like he’s about to burst, but you know it’s a trick of the eye – Hoseok has more stamina than one would think.

Holding the base of his dick, he brings the tip closer to your face. Your mouth falls open, expecting him to push his cock in, but he instead taps your cheek with it.

“I want to ruin you,” he says in a low voice. “I want you to never be able to fuck another guy because you still think of me.”

You gulp, tongue darting to wet your lips. He gets the cue, and he brings his dick to your mouth. You don’t hesitate before licking at his slit, the salty taste of his precum filling your mouth. You then wrap your lips around the head, giving a tentative suck as your tongue plays with the underside of it.

He grunts, cocking his head to the side. And then he starts pulling on the belt – just a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it so it’s a tad harder to breathe. He’s usually pretty safe in his sex practices, but you feel like this could be dangerous.

You only then understand what he really meant by punishing you, and it makes your pussy drip on your thighs.

You moan around his dick, before slowly pushing forward until he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes water. You swallow around him, keeping the gag reflex at bay as he circles his hips. You pull away from his cock to move to his balls instead, still not using your hands as you lick at the spot between them, licking up his dick at the same time.

“Hands on me, baby,” he commands.

As per usual, you obey. One of your hands moves to fondle his balls, and the other wraps around the base of his cock so you can jerk him off as you suck. And then you get to work, eyes shutting as you concentrate on pulling grunts out of him.

He doesn’t let you do it for a long time. He’s quick to pull on the belt more – it’s a leash more than a belt, is it? – which makes you pull away, lips parted as you struggle to suck in some air.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want to see you cry as you choke on my dick.”

When he guides his cock back towards your mouth, you keep your eyes on him, ever so a good girl, and you let him thrust in your mouth. The first two times he does it, your gag reflex doesn’t show up, but the third time you gag, spit rolling on your chin as he pulls away. A line of drool connects his tip to your mouth, and it breaks as he once again taps his cock on your cheek. Tears water your eyes, and he watches you blink them away, slightly shaking his head in disapproval.

You know that was your last chance when he pushes his dick in your mouth again, establishing a steady yet hard rhythm that has your gaze blurring. You moan against him, right as he grunts, whispering filthy curses entwined with mentions of your name. And when he starts going faster, the sounds of you choking get louder. It’s indecent, pornographic, and tears roll on your cheeks as he throws his head back, grunting loudly.

“Fuck, baby.”

He stops at the back of your throat, looking down at you. He wipes some tears on your cheeks as you swallow around him. His dick twitches inside your mouth, but you know he’s not about to come.

Soon, perhaps, but not just yet.

“You’re okay?” he asks, because even though he’s pretty rough, he always does care about his partner too. 

He lets you pull away to catch your breath, releasing his tight hold on the belt too. You breathe raggedly, throat feeling raw from the intrusion.

“Yes,” you breathe out. 

“Good.” He licks his lips, offering you a dangerous chuckle. “You’re going to let me come down your throat?”

You nod, and he taps the tip of his dick against your sealed lips. You don’t remember shutting your mouth, so you open it wide again for him. He pushes forward, slowly, until all of it is embedded in your mouth, head pushing against the back of your throat. He remains unmoving long enough for you to gag, and then he pushes forward even more before pulling back.

When he starts fucking your mouth again, you know he’s chasing his high. So you fondle his balls, moan around his dick, try not to choke whenever he hits the back of your throat. Evidently, you still do sometimes, and tears roll down your cheeks by the time he growls, “Open your throat up for me, baby”.

You moan one last time, as he pushes all the way to the back of your mouth, grunting loudly as hot spurts of his cum fills your throat. As his dick twitches, he pulls out a little, and you know better than to swallow right away. So you patiently wait as he finishes, before fully pulling away. 

He grabs your jaw, and forces you to tilt your head back. “Open up.” You do, and he spits on top of his cum before saying, “Swallow”. You do that too, and the next time you open your mouth, it’s fully empty. Only then does he let go of your jaw, and he also quickly takes his belt off from around your neck, letting it drop to the floor.

It falls with a loud thump, and you breathe in deeply for the first time in a while. Your throat aches, and you massage your neck where the buckle left an indent in your skin. Concern grows on his features as you chuckle awkwardly, getting up from the floor.

Your knees are already hurting, and you know you’ll have bruises by the time you wake up tomorrow.

“Is your neck okay?” he asks.

You drop your hand, and his fingers ghost over the spot. “Yeah,” you reassure him. “It’ll be okay.”

“Good.” He smirks, and then he captures your lips in another heated kiss. One of his hands moves between your thighs, and he feels your wetness, groaning in satisfaction. “You’re dripping for me,” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“I am.”

He licks at your mouth, before saying, “Too bad you won’t be getting some tonight, mmh?”

And he moves his hand away from your core to settle it on your waist instead.

“What?” you let out.

At this, he laughs, and it’s a little mean. “You think I’ll make you come when you’ve ghosted me for a few months?” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Nah, you’re going to have to work for it, baby.”

You want to curse him, but somehow it just turns you on further. “When can I see you again then?”

He ponders for a time, pulling away so he can meet your gaze. “What about next weekend?”

You’re disappointed, but you try not to let it show. “Any chance you’d be available during the week?”

“Maybe,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Will you be nice and not touch yourself until then?”

You bite at your bottom lip, nodding once. 

“Then yes, we can hang out this week,” he concludes. He frees your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before gently tapping your cheek. “But I’ve got to go now.”

It surprises you. Back when you were friends with benefits, you always stayed the night at his place, so you expected him to stay tonight. But he immediately steps away from you, putting his clothes back on quickly as you just stand there, naked and awkward.

“You’re leaving?”

He glances at you as he’s putting his belt back on. “Yeah, won’t have you think I’m into you like that again.”

It hurts just a tad little bit, but at the same time you agree with him. Not sleeping over is a good way to avoid feelings, so you decide to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater so you can walk him to the front door.

Hoseok kisses your forehead once when you get there, before grabbing his coat. You watch as he slides his arms in it, draping it on his shoulders before he bends down to put his shoes on too. When he straightens, he offers you a hug and you gladly embrace him as he wishes you good night.

You’re somehow confused as you shut the door behind him, and you stay there for a few seconds, almost expecting him to come back. He doesn’t, and you’re left heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth, only so you can get rid of the taste of him, and then you head to your bedroom.

And as you lie awake in bed, the only thing you can hope is that Jungkook didn’t hear you after all. You’re ashamed of what you did, but you’re far too tired to think about it deeply. All you can do is stare at the wall in front of you, hoping that sleep will take you.

It doesn’t, not until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon, turning the sky to liquid gold.

Teaser | Chapter 1.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

So? Do we like it? Do we not? Let me know what you thought of the first chapter!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist: (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you)

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@xumyboo | @chxmachxps

[holylulusworld]

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Like in 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023, I will post a kinky, fluffy, angsty or scary one-shot from October 1st till October 31st, 2024.

Please consider none of the stories are available until the set release date. Titles may change (all titles are working titles until the release date.). The release date may change at any time.

ANGST/SMUT/FLUFF

October 1st: Forbidden Lust (3) sequel to Forbidden Lust & Forbidden Lust (2)

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Homewrecker kink

October 2nd: How deep is your love? sequel to Deepest love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Friends to lovers

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 3rd: Extreme tight places sequel to Cramped & Tight places & Very tight places

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x fem!Reader

Kink: Anal sex

October 4th: Colorful leaves sequel to Falling leaves

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Trope: Sunny vs grumpy

October 5th: Serve your Soldier (2) sequel to Serve your Soldier

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!Reader

Kink: Collars

October 6th: Snuggle and cuddle sequel to Snuggle time

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Huddling for warmth

October 7th: Good girls punch hard (1)

Pairing: Raymond Smith x fem!Reader

Kink: Lust at first sight

October 8th: A new life sequel to One autumn night

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Trope: Nesting (a/b/o)

October 9th: The peach (2) sequel to The Peach

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Girlfriend!Reader

Kink: Spanking

October 10th: My car again? sequel to Not in my car

Pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Trope: Cuddling & Snuggling

Requested by: @dawn-petrichor-world

October 11th: Breathlessness sequel to Breathless & Take My Breath Away

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Boss kink

October 12th: Death or date?

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader

Trope/Kink: Enemies to lovers

October 13th: Pour me some love (1)

Pairing: Biker!Dean Winchester x Plussized!Reader

Trope: Love at first sight

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

October 14th: Ashtray (2) sequel to Ashtray

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader

Kink: angry sex

October 15th: My lawn, my rules sequel to Get off my lawn

Pairing: Alpha (Teacher) Bucky Barnes x Omega (Teacher) Reader

Trope: Mating

October 16th: Howl like a wolf (Prologue)

Pairing: Alpha!Anders Lassen x Omega!Reader

Kink: a/b/o

October 17th: Bucky & Ducky (1)

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Side-pairing: Bucky x Ducky the duck

Trope: Best buddies

Idea by: @buckys-wintersoldier

October 18th: Pipsqueak & Grumpy (2) sequel to Pipsqueak & Grumpy

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Chubby(Short)!Reader

Trope: TBA

October 19th: Torn in two

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Trope: Unrequited Love

October 20th: Sweater weather sequel to Christmas Sweater

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Trope: Sweater weather

October 21st: The cabin in the woods (2) sequel to The cabin in the woods

Pairing: Winter Soldier x fem!Reader

Trope: Captivity

October 22nd: Lunchtime Delight

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Girlfriend!Reader

Kink: Edging

Idea: by @elle14-blog1

October 23rd: My annoying sexy neighbor (2) sequel to My annoying sexy neighbor

Pairing: Neighbor!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Semi-public sex

October 24th: Parallel Worlds (1)

Pairing: Negan Smith (TWD) x fem!Reader x John Winchester (SPN)

Trope: Daddy kink

October 25th: Unwanted mate (2) Bucky's version sequel to Unwanted Mate (Bucky's version)

Pairing: Alpha!Stucky x Omega!Reader

Trope: Triade

October 26th: Up his sleeve

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Kink: Hand kink

Idea by: @buckys-wintersoldier

October 27th: Breakfast for...

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Wife!Reader

Kink: TBA

October 28th: Their bride (Snippet 1) sequel to Best bridesmaid ever

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Trope: Post-Coitus moment

October 29th: His Bride (Prologue)

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Vampire AU

October 30th: Bound Tight

Pairing: Gus March-Philipps x fem!Reader x Anders Lassen

Kink: Ropes

Halloween Specials: ANGST/SMUT/HORROR

October 31st: His little red riding hood sequel to Little Red Riding hood lost in the woods

Pairing: (Alpha) Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader (LittleRedRidingHood)

Trope: Monster-fucking

Find all other Bingos and Special Events here: Special Events

[redbluesweets]

[Warning, this au contains gore, horror, and any other scary things and also loneliness please read for your own good. If your want to add your ocs in and draw it, please ask for permission.]

💭“How long has it been... Days...? Months...? Years...? Hell, I don't even care about how long I've been surviving out wild... I am cold... hungry... Weak... Can't find a damn place to stay...all because of that damn big irritating turtle! Bowser... The king of the loser koopas and absolute love suck up to Princess Peach... He literally can't leave her alone as I GOD DAMN TOLD HIM TO! He literally pisses me off with that damn anger on his face... Kamek did tell me to calm down but now Bowser started to think about something to stop... It happened since my home was in his stupid castle where his child, koopalings, his troops, and everything there...”💭

He planned a wedding to marry Peach but I'm not going to let that happen!! Bowser already planned the wedding and got the broodals to stop Mario for ruining it but I got there first and can't let this slide... Bowser already growled at me with his anger look... “Hey! Didn't I tell you to stay put?! I already got this under control so you don't have to me–” I interrupt Bowser with his idiotic yapping but... “Why don't you shut up already?! I just told you to leave the princess alone! Geez, why don't you take a hint?!” I outburst in anger as I am protecting the princess but she stood behind me as Mario jumped in just in time. He looked at me and we never met but I was on his side for this troublemaker. Bowser chuckled a little bit at Mario as he got his trick up his sleeve... “You are too late, Mario... This is THE END!!!” He threw his wedding hat at Mario but I step up and reflected on his hat with my two tails and hit him. Not too shabby as I got so cocky... “Ha! You like that, you stupid turtle?! You literally forgot that I have two tails that can reflect and fly!” As I got too cocky... Bowser started to clench his fists in anger and things got pretty ugly... “You... I told you to kidnap the princess but you refused to listen... And now you're getting in my way to ruin the wedding... Maybe this time I should punish you...FOR YOUR ACTIONS!!! KAMEK!!” As he yelled Kamek out, the clouds started to get dark... He appears from his magic and riding his broom. I was afraid this would happen but I'm not that afraid... “How may I help you, Lord Bowser?” Kamek is always serving Bowser as he pleases but unfortunately... Kamek sees me siding with Mario and Peach as I was lost but standing my guard. “Hey? Why are you on that plumber's side?! Are...you betraying us...?” Kamek felt a little hurt that he asked but... I started to tell the truth. “What? Kamek, no! I'm trying to stop this idiot tu–” Bowser started to grab me with his hand but I can't escape... All I did was struggle and break free but...nothing.... Mario was trying to help but Kamek gets in the way. “Maybe this would teach your lesson, you small weak brat...” Bowser started to squeeze and crush me like a hard ball as I screamed in absolute pain... Mario and Peach were terrified to hear me in pain. If Mario would've done something, none of this would've happened... “My Lord! You should stop squeezing him!” Kamek is trying to help but Bowser starts to look at him with the side eye. “Stop? Why should I? Wait... I have an idea... Get rid of his voice. Right. NOW!” Bowser has really done it now... Mario, Peach, and Kamek gasped in fear but Kamek shook his head. “B-But King Bowser! I shouldn't! That's the forbidden spell that nobody should ever use!” Kamek is really shaking and afraid about this but the forbidden spell like that? He never did that to anyone before until now. “Are you denying me? I SAID NOW!!!” Bowser yelled as he is still grabbing me as he is done squeezing and crushing me like a rock. Kamek is afraid this would happen as he slowly floated to me and prepared the forbidden spell... Staying silent forever... “Any last words before you're silenced? You small brat?” Bowser said to me as he smirked evilly and looked at me. A small trail of blood slowly went down to my mouth...and looked at him with one eye closed and half eye opened. “A...few... Leave...Peach...alone and...go...find a...real...love... interested in...your...miserable life...you...good for...nothing...loser...” I smirked a little bit as I chuckled.... Bowser's evil smirk slowly fated and went extremely angry. He looked at Kamek as he nodded meaning ‘do it’... Kamek whispered to me as he slowly raised his wand at my throat. “I'm sorry...” As Kamek completes the silence spell on me, I can't even talk... Bowser started to chuckle and laugh as he threw me in the air and punched me clean right at the face and sent me super far away... “Oh no!” Mario said as he was shocked and Peach was covering her mouth as she got scared and shocked at the same time. Now is this for a battle for Mario and Bowser alone.

As I literally landed at the snow grounds, I bounced off, tumbled, and my right arm landed on a sharp bush branch and impaled. I was in a coma for five months as I was not breathing... Then...I...was..floating...somewhere... In this...black void... I thought I was dead...

My eyes are half open and I have no...pupils on my eyes... “So you're the one who is going to change history or fate... You tried to be the hero and be involved? How foolish are you...” A mysterious voice is speaking to me as I can't speak because of that spell Kamek and Bowser put upon me... “Eheheheheh... I'm starting to like you, you pathetic runt... I would like to see how long you last until you suffer...” The voice fated and the void is no longer there...but...I slowly woke up in this cold forest and slowly looked at my right impaled arm and I slowly pulled the sharp bush branch out of it but blood dripped down a lot... I slowly started to get up and started to walk further down the path if I could find shelter...and don't get lost... It's been four hours to find a god damn shelter but I see a small shack... finally... something useful... I took a step inside of the shack and found a few items... A warm cloak, bandages, and...a crystal? Was someone here and left these behind? I slowly took the bandages and looked at the mirror that was almost broken... My right cheek on my face was scratched as the blood slowly went down but stopped because of the cold. I slowly wrapped the bandages around my right arm to heal and stop the bleeding and my right cheek to heal as well. Then I put on the cloak to warm me up and slowly held the crystal but I slowly looked at the mirror and saw a Bowser reflection right in front of me. I can hear his...stupid irritating laugh...it pisses me off... I started to breathe in and out of anger but I clenched my left fist and punched the mirror and broke the glass as the sound echoed from outside... I started to walk out of the shack and started to look for shelter on the path I'm going to, if I don't get lost...

(To be continued...)

(@skratchytheclown is the person who made me think of this au idea so all thanks to him!)

[alectoperdita]

WIP Snippet Sunday

More yakuza Jou, now with his tacky pinup Garden of Eden print blazer. Under the cut since it's slightly spicy (but not explicit).

---

Jounouchi's toothy grin widened. "Good to see ya again, Kaiba-kun." He had the audacity to wink.

It set Seto's teeth on edge. But not nearly as much as Jounouchi's outfit.

From a distance, his blazer was a muddled but garish mess of red, that resembled more of a modern art painting. But now Seto could see that the winding strand of purple on his sleeve was a venomous snake baring its fangs. The red and peach on his left side was a nearly naked woman with fig leaves twined around her breasts and groin, barely maintaining her modesty. In her hand held aloft was a red apple. She was matched by a similarly undressed man on the jacket's right side, one hand extended forth, reaching for the forbidden fruit across the gap.

A snake, Adam, and Eve—the Garden of Eden, a scene depicted countless times in masterpieces of western art.

There was only one word to describe the jacket: douchey.

Yet Seto was overcome with the insane urge to crawl across the table, tear off the hostess' hand on Jounouchi's shoulder before ripping the blond out of his tacky clothing and sinking his own teeth into his neck. Then maybe ride his fat cock for good measure.

The thought left him uncomfortably flushed under his collar.

[peachsayshi]

HEYYYYYY PEACH!!! It’s your evil!suguru advocate anon here (hope you missed me 😉). I like to self appoint myself as your voice of reason 💕 which means I heavily encourage you to write about evil!suguru. I know I said I’ll wait a while (like this 🧍🏻‍♀️) cause you were being oh so generous with the drabbles you made for my previous asks but imagine how happy I was when I saw your post on evil!suguru x Virgin reader 🥹. So the moment you’ve been waiting for😈… “hi peach! Voice of reason here, PLEASE PLEASE WRITE ABOUT YOUR IDEA IF THE INSPIRATION IS THERE!! I mean we can all agree that he is the love of our lives and we should really celebrate that don’t you agree? *whispers* you know you want toooooo~ hey peach I just had this AMAZING idea I think you should hear 😃 ✨evil suguru✨ ahhahahahahaha 😀😐🫣🥵” Well, that’s all I have to say and I leave it to you to make your final decision 🫡

Hello, my Evil!Suguru Nonnie! 💕💕

I hope you didn't think that I have forgotten about this post. I just need to find myself in the right kind of mood to write evil!suguru and it seems like it’s your lucky day 😈

A/N: (minors & ageless blogs dni)

TAGS: geto being evil & manipulative, forbidden romance, corruption kink, dub con, virgin reader, cock warming, fluffy and angsty at the same time? 

For Suguru, being with you is about possession - it’s about claiming your body as his own in every way possible. He thrives off your naivety and takes pride in watching you squirm because it feeds into his power over you. 

You were such a meek human, humbly arriving at his temple with your vulnerability on your sleeve, and pleading him to save you. He happily cured you of all your ailments...but he manipulated you into being indebted to him, which meant that he had a perfect excuse of keeping you around. 

Nobody had the courage to question why he had one of these “monkeys” shadowing his every movements but Suguru made it a point to emphasize that he was making an example of the lesser kind. 

He still had his reputation to uphold despite what was happening behind closed doors. 

Suguru secretly indulged in using your body to service him, sadistically challenging himself by basking in the pleasure of your company.

He enjoyed tasting you between your legs, and playing with your own sanity as he edged you to your release. He humiliated you by having you ride him bare, repeatedly making a mess of his clothes every single time you both climaxed. He kept you close to his chest as he watched you touch yourself with sheer amusement, taking in your breathless cries when you reached your orgasm. 

You were an object for his own entertainment, but tonight he had failed to commit to his cardinal rule of refusing to have sex with you. 

How was he supposed to hold back after you admitted your inexperience? 

He could feel you trembling beneath him when he aligned the tip of his cock to to your entrance. Your nails dragging down his chest and leaving strikes of red when he finally pushed, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the unfamiliar sensation. 

His heart pulsed against your palm and Suguru intertwined his fingers with your own to allow you to squeeze his hand instead. Your body relaxed underneath his strong frame, your lashes flattering back open and you were surprised to meet the tender gaze in his eyes. 

Your lips parted when you inhaled, the warmth rushing to your face from how close his mouth was to your own.  You’ve always thought he was striking, but with him merely inches from you, you were able to really see the beautiful details in his features.

You contemplated his face, mapping over him as he found himself doing the same thing with you. 

His eyes were dark, like the mysterious abyss of space, and mirroring the locks of his hair. You could see the slight bags underneath them, taking a moment to ponder if he ever actually got a full night’s rest. You followed the line of his nose before focusing your full attention on his lips. 

You gulped at the realization that he’s never actually kissed you before, and shivered when you were reminded with the fact that it’s because doesn’t care for you.

He was repulsed by you - by your kind, and you knew that he truly hated you with every fiber of his being.

A fact that he repeatedly shared.

There was a fear that climbed up your throat because you knew that this man would hurt you. You threw caution out the window when you gave yourself to him, instantly regretting not thinking this through and wishing you didn’t just follow his command like an obedient fool.

You turned your head away. 

Your fingers tightened around his hold, but then released when you felt a kiss on the side of your neck. The act was so soft, you didn’t even notice the brush of Suguru’s lips on your skin. Then there was second one just below your ear, a third to your collarbone, a fourth to your shoulder.. each one steadying your erratic heart. 

“You’re lovely...” he murmured against your ear, in a tone that was completely foreign to the deadly shaman you’ve grown accustomed to serving. 

Your mind must be playing tricks on you and you returned to meet his stare for clarification, “I’m-I’m sorry, Master Geto, I didn’t hear-”

His lips met yours, and everything went still.

You didn’t expect your body melting into him as little sparkles twinkled behind your closed lids. You didn’t expect him to loosen his hand and allow you to tenderly caress his jaw when he slowly took the time to taste you. Nor did you expect him to sigh with relief as he lifted away before pressing his forehead on top of yours. 

He held your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing over your puffed bottom lip.

“Nobody can know,” he breathed.

His words were cold enough to put out the slow flame that had been sparked, and you recognized the unspoken threat when he slowly laced his hand around your neck.

As long as you kept your mouth shut, you would be protected.

Yet, there was something else in his order that you couldn’t brush over - something that could have easily been mistaken as desperation.

You nodded your head agreement.

Suguru tracked his hand down to your waist, while the other held one of your thighs open.

“Good girl,” he praised while hiding his smile against your neck, before pulling out and making you moan in response as he carefully thrusted back in.

TAGS: @damn-geto @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @jelly-jellx @lollipopd @shuxjodie @mikasackrmann @alreadyblondenow @nanamikentcs @aizumie @mrsmorgenstern @artemisthestar @velvetlight333 @sluttoru @smoothy-ve @bisexualwomanofcolour @bloombb @shadowsorceress @dont-ask-me-pls   

[horanghaechan]

LOVER (M.G) - Chapter 3

pairing: Michael Gray x original female character chapter: 3 pov: written in 3rd person genre: ‘rivals to lovers’, romance, mature content/smut, fluffy? warnings: S3 spoilers, non canon stuff. main character is BRAZILIAN therefore, there are references to 1920's brazil. keep in mind that the world at that time wasn't like the world we live nowadays, so there are offensive behaviours along the story. read at your own risk. english is not my first language, so any mistakes please tell me &lt;3 disclaimer: this is the english translation of my portuguese fic 'Lover', based on Taylor Swift songs and Peaky Blinders S1-S3. This is PURE fanfiction.

Birmingham, England, 1924

It was as if the wedding hangover had been going on all month. Maria Clara felt discouraged and irritable. The icing on her misfortune cake was that, five days prior a major Shelby event, her period arrived rather quickly.

Good God, she was freaking out. The dress she’d planned to wear to the Shelbys’ charity dinner was plain white and she didn’t have a second attire option!

Could she be any unluckier?!

Rummaging through her clothes, she found a box strategically hidden at the bottom of her wardrobe. When her mother brought everything, she owned in Brazil, she didn’t imagine that she’d bring exactly everything. Opening the package, Marie nearly burst into tears. João Antônio’s engagement dress – which years ago she had been forbidden to wear due to her ‘young’ age, her being single and the fact that the piece’s design was scandalous on its own. It was delicately wrapped in a very fair tulle, making the green seem lighter. Marie took it out, stretching it on her bed to see the entire dress.

“Good God!” She shook her head in disbelief. “My robe-sylphide!”

Created by Jeanne Margaine-Lacroix, Directoire Fashion was nothing more than wearing a fitted dress, marking the waist, hips and bust. Her seamstress in Brazil had travelled to Paris in 1902 looking for fashion trends, she returned enchanted by Madame Lacroix’s boldness. When Marie got older – 17 years old, in 1920 – and João’s engagement was announced, the woman was still in love with that French style... As she was aware of the girl’s ‘modern’ (but kind of repressed) spirit, she suggested that they create an adapted robe-sylphide in emerald-green lace and dark green lining, shades that looked beautiful on her. Even though she knew her family would probably not let her wear it, Marie agreed without hesitation – just in case, she asked for a ‘normal’ spare, bland peach dress.

Despite the beautiful white gown she had chosen for the ball, the robe-sylphide was prettier. And at that moment, her being older and without her parents around, there wasn’t much to stop her from using it.

Praying she still fit in that size (although she had certainly lost a little weight since arriving in England, due to the not-so-tasty cuisine and dynamic lifestyle), she took off her nightgown and tried dressing herself.

The fabric fell like a glove, outlining her body in a way it hadn’t before. The gown had somewhat a mermaid shape, all embroidered, the beadings shimmered in harmony with the lining and the exquisitely fitted belt in emerald silk; the no-sleeves sweetheart neckline showed her bust in a delicate and subtle way. Turning to her side, Maria Clara observed her back, its V-shaped neckline ended near her waist, so not too low, silk buttons working as the clasp... Further down, her ass looked round and pert, even though the dress wasn’t that tight. Laughing in disbelief, she walked around in front of the mirror.

She felt so feminine! So beautiful!

Satisfied with the result, Marie rang the bedroom bell and waited for her lady-in-waiting to appear. She was very lucky that Ana Vera didn’t want to go back to Brazil and agreed to stay in England with her... She wasn’t sure she’d get used to an English handmaid.

“Sinhazinha?” The maid showed up about five minutes later.

“What do you think, Ana?” Marie indicated the dress.

“Good God! Is it…” Ana closed the door, hands over her mouth in surprise. “Is it the dress from João Antônio’s engagement party?!”

“It is, indeed.” Marie nodded.

“Sinhazinha... Do you want to wear it now?!”

“What do you think?! I don’t have Papa or Mama pestering me again, and the Shelby’s are relatively ‘open-minded’.” She winked. “Did you like it? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?!’

“It was splendid, milady, but I don’t think it’s wise. You do remember the disaster it brought when you decided to go for it back then, right?”

Marie crossed her arms, vexed.

“I remember, of course; but we’re in a different situation now, Ana! And I promise that after the dinner, I’ll put it down and won’t touch it again until I’m married.”

“Does it even matter if I go against it?” Ana Vera surmised. “It seems prettier than before, doesn’t it? You’re all grown-up now, sinhazinha.”

“Do not call me like that!” Maria Clara laughed, a mixture of scolding and confidence. “So it’s decided: I’ll wear it. I’d like to tie my hair up, too, to show the back...”

“You lost your sanity after becoming an independent woman.”

“Lucky me that I’m not independent at all, eh?”

Marie laughed at herself, for she had just mocked Tommy. Ana helped her out of the dress and promised that she would wash it later that night.

±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±±

The week stretched on and Maria Clara’s period, which usually lasted seven days, only lasted five. She no longer had the excuse to go along with the crazy idea of wearing her green gown… She’d wear it anyway, though. It was as if she had finally marked the new phase she was experiencing: an adult lady, independent (as Ana would say) and free. She might not be completely independent, but it was undeniable that she was close to that fate.

Marie was restless until the moment Ana went upstairs to help her get ready. Chattering nonstop – a quirk of when she felt anxious – throughout the entire process. Her voice trailed off, however, when she saw herself reflected in the mirror: a beautiful unadorned Charleston bun, the gorgeous dress, and equally gorgeous shoes with heels ‘a little’ higher than recommended. For her makeup, Ana agreed with red lipstick, but her eyes were supposed to remain soft. In addition to the gloves of the same emerald silk as the belt, the jewellery was also simple: just a pair of pearl teardrop-earrings.

Covering herself with a black overcoat, the only thing apparent was the dress’ long tail. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the room drunk on adrenaline.

That was her moment!

Downstairs, she found Michael leaning against the foyer wall, smoking a cigarette. Marie held her breath, annoyed by the way she was so taken aback by the man’s beauty. Did the tuxedo just intensify it? Yes, it probably did.

He, however, also studied her from head to toe, inhaling the smoke and tilting his face slightly to the side.

“Did someone die, milady?”

“Yes, I’m mourning my peace.” Marie replied dryly, turning her back on him and going to the library. She could have a glass of cognac before she left, couldn’t she?

Still, she heard Michael’s footsteps shortly after entering the hall. There’s no way he wanted to keep on arguing! Not on a day she was exceptionally happy and didn’t want to waste her energy on stupid quarrels... Didn’t matter if those who wanted to quarrel had pale green eyes, broad shoulders, and a husky voice with a beautiful accent.

“You know that we’ll have to pretend to be friends tonight, don’t you? Tommy invited many partners and investors, let alone potential ones.” He spoke. “So, it’d be good if you started treating me politely, milady.”

“It was you who started this! I wasn’t even going to acknowledge your presence.” She rolled her eyes, pouring herself more brandy than the usual dose. She needed it.

“Watch out, Your Grace, for ladies must be affable and good-tempered.” Michael smirked. “And they certainly don’t drink brandy in the presence of a gentleman.”

“Oh, how odd.” She sipped on her drink. “I don’t see any gentleman around here.” She leaned against the sideboard, tilting her head just like he had minutes ago.

Michael’s expression hardened, showing her that she had hit a sore spot. Well, it was always a pleasure when she finally hurt him somehow.

“You should know your place, Maria Clara.” The warning came as harsh and painful as a slap. He soon realised he had crossed the line, but when her eyes flashed with fury, he couldn’t help but marvel. Marie almost never backed away from a feud with him.

“I know my place, Mr. Gray: above you, always.” She drained the entire content of the glass, letting the heat of alcohol encourage her. “Someone should warn you about your rudeness… Your small mind surely doesn’t know how to behave in the presence of a lady.”

Michael hated the childish response he’d give her, but he hated even more that his body started having ideas without his permission. Instead of only above, it seemed to believe that Marie’s place could be either on or below him… And he no longer talked about hierarchical positions. No wonder defiant girls usually caught his eye.

“It’s funny, Your Grace,” He smiled acidly. “Because women tend to like my rude behaviour, you know?! By the way,” He crossed his arms, unconcerned and relaxed. “they even praise me for not having anything small, including my mind.”

The real meaning of what he said hit her faster than he thought. Maria Clara’s eyes widened and she set the glass down on the sideboard in a clumsy move, as if she was really dumbfounded by his cheeky remark.

“You are all shades of scoundrel, Mr. Gray.”

“Well, I thought you already knew.” He shrugged. “Weren’t you the one who insinuated just now I was no gentleman?!”

“Oh, no.” Marie let out a humourless laugh. “No, no, no. You won’t ruin my night! Not tonight! You have all others to annoy me, but this one in particular, no.”

“Really?” Michael opened an amused smile, as if he had been offered a great challenge. My God, the man was impossible!

Maria Clara shook her head, filling her cup again and chugging it down. She wore a wonderful dress, felt beautiful and powerful. Michael Gray wouldn’t spoil that, even if she needed to be a complete bitch to make sure of it. And she’d start acting like that right now: if there was one thing in the world he hated the most, it was being ignored. So, clinging to her coat, she walked past him and back into the foyer.

Luck smiled at her when she saw Ada coming down the stairs.

Though they went the entire way in tense silence – which got both Polly and Ada slightly worried –, the duo couldn’t remain like that when they arrived at the event. Tommy soon approached them and indicated who they should make sure to greet, and after that they were supposed to sit together during dinner and remain that way through the night.

“Good Heaven’s, Tommy, at least let us get rid of our coats before ordering us around!” Ada pleaded in a mixture of annoyance and laughter.

Maria Clara was well aware of her own shaking. She couldn’t keep the coat on, of course, but she was very insecure now. Wearing the dress at home and dreaming of that moment was one thing… Living it was another. When a hatter approached, she knew she couldn’t escape. Unbuttoning her ‘shield’, she avoided looking at the others while undressing and focused on not tripping over her own feet as she turned around.

She heard an exclamation from Ada, and the soft ‘Marie’ from Polly.

Someone coughed.

“Will you take us to Mr. Heartwell, Tommy?” Her voice was controlled and soft. Marie mentally congratulated herself, letting the adrenaline take over for a few seconds.

“Sure.” He didn’t move. Nobody did, actually.

“If Michael is speechless, maybe it’s a good sign.” Polly joked, looking at her niece.

At the mention of the young man, Maria Clara turned to him, surprised by the realization: he really was silent. And Michael was never quiet about her clothing! He always had some nasty comment on them; however, he remained mute. The only thing indicating he was alive were his eyes moving up and down Marie’s figure… The design didn’t leave as much to the imagination as the others. Still, there was something pleasant about the way the dress’ colour highlighted his green globes, that Maria Clara couldn’t be bothered by his silence – on the contrary, she felt feminine, gay, charming.

“Well,” Tommy cleared his throat. “Shall we, then?” He offered his arms to his sister and aunt, leaving Michael with the task of escorting Marie inside.

The boy still didn’t move. She sighed, unsure of what to do.

“Michael,” She called out. “although I’m revelling with the idea of you turning into a statue so I’ll no longer have to tolerate you, we have a job to do and Tommy is waiting.”

Moving closer, Marie was ready to grab his forearm and drag him to the party – if she had. It turned out Michael had ideas of his own, and to their shock, he let his whim take control faster. He touched her waist, eyes involuntarily widening as he realised that it really was a tight dress and that that body was Maria Clara’s.

Not that he’d never touched waists without the barrier of a corset. The problem was: right there, it seemed he never did. The sensation was undeniably different and it scared him completely. Michael felt as if he was invading her space, as if he was touching her under the gown. Even with all the beading and fabric, it was like touching bare skin. Stepping back like one would do when faced with fire, he offered her his arm in a messy movement.

“What is it?” She inquired a bit worried. “Are you alright?”

“Tommy.” He cleared his throat. “Tommy is waiting.”

The uneasiness escalated when he noticed that both men and women would look at Marie the same way he did. Firstly, because that colour made her stand out – both because it matched her skin and hair, and it was an unusual shade to be associated with single ladies. Secondly, the design of the dress was risqué… More than any lady of her status would probably venture wearing to an event of such fashion. And thirdly, highlighting his two previous concerns: she was young and single. This type of dress was normally worn by married women (or prostitutes) only.

Did Marie realise how dangerous this was?

Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out some surprised faces and some stern ones. His body tensed in the act, a mixture of discomfort for the situation and awareness of being so close to her. He wanted and didn’t want to be any of the onlookers just to see from afar the way she swayed her hips as they walked… He’d bet a few good pounds that she looked powerful and sensual, even if she didn’t mean to.

Mr. Heartwell’s expression was one of pure panic. Marie bowed elegantly, something she always did when meeting any investor or client, and the way her fingers lightly squeezed Michael’s forearm for balance made his throat go dry. Maybe if he cursed out loud, he’d go back to acting like the normal, controlled and unfazed Michael Gray.

For fuck’s sakes, it was just a dress!

There was no reason to act like a virgin teenager... Like Finn! He didn’t doubt his cousin would behave the same way... The big difference is that Finn was a virgin teenager, and Michael wasn’t. He hadn’t been one for a long time, by the way.

“Mr. Heartwell, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” Her voice was in the same smooth, professional timbre she adopted when she was at Shelby Co..

“Lady Marie!” He took her hand, kissing it through the glove and forcing a relaxed smile. Heartwell was in his early forties and a well-groomed man. Michael had never been bothered by his gentleman-ish actions towards Marie, but she had never worn a tight dress to work meetings. “Allow me to say that you look exuberant today.” He smiled charmingly, and Michael held back the urge to roll his eyes.

Two seconds ago the son of a bitch seemed scared!

“Thank you, sir.” She accepted the compliment. “I try to live up to what the Shelby Company deserves.”

Oh.

Now Michael wanted to chuckle. Well, a point to Maria Clara.

“Obviously.” Heartwell nodded. “Tommy told me he’s going with us to Birmingham for a guided tour of the car factory.”

“Perfect.” Came from Michael. “Do you still intend to buy a shed there?”

“I’m planning on it, yes. I know there is some land close to your industry and I think it would be a good way to save on logistics.” Heartwell puffed on his cigar. “I’m thinking about the offers I can make to Tommy.”

“We’ll discuss this when we go to Birmingham, how about that?” He suggested politely. He was pretty sure Tommy would reject such idea, but that was a future business. Now, Michael and Marie needed to talk to the other guests.

“Oh, Michael, there’s Mrs. Waldorf! I had promised her previously that we’d tell her all about the wedding drinks, because Mr. Waldorf wants to buy some whiskey.” Marie signalled to an older lady, who was surrounded by other matrons. “Shall we say hello?”

“Of course. See you later, Mr. Heartwell.” Michael said goodbye, following Marie towards the woman. “I’m glad you saw her. I didn’t want to discourage him about the shed.”

“Tommy won’t accept bargains and Heartwell doesn’t have much to offer in the matter, right?” She shook her head. “Now help me sell at least two boxes of whiskey and I promise we won’t have to be together for long.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, after all, Tommy gave specific orders.” He shrugged.

“There are a few hours left until dinner; I’m sure we can escape each other if we try hard enough.” Marie suddenly waved excitedly at someone. “Thea!”

“Marie!” Lady Tumblewood approached them, grinning. “I thought I would never find you in this crowd! Congratulations, the event is packed!”

“It is, isn’t it?” The Brazilian looked proud.

“Mr. Gray.” Thea bowed her head.

“Lady Tumblewood.” Michael smiled politely. Since she didn’t offer her hand, he didn’t even ask for it. Also, he wasn’t used to kissing women’s hands as greetings.

“Mind if I steal Marie for now?” Thea asked him, eyes soft and hopeful. “Louis is here, and he brought some friends of her acquaintance… I wish…”

“Five minutes.” He agreed. “And then, Waldorf, eh?” He looked at her.

“Thank you, Michael.” Maria Clara gave him a satisfied smile.

It wasn’t that she was desperate to see Louis or the others, but she was relieved to finally get away from Michael and get some of her sanity back.

A deprecating grin appeared on the gangster’s lips, because, as he had predicted, Marie swayed her hips while walking – unlike the ‘stiff’ way British girls walked. However, his attention didn’t last long on it, as her ass was so evident that his eyes did nothing to avoid focusing on that region... And there they remained until the crowd completely swallowed the Brazilian.

“How long since the last fight?” John appeared accompanied by Finn.

“Hm...” He frowned. “Since we left the house, I think it’s been an hour or less.”

“And what’s the record?”

“An hour or less?!” Michael jested.

“She brought her rich friends.” Finn pointed out. “We’re going to raise some money.”

“Marie is an angel.” John agreed. “I didn’t think she would last a week with us, but here she is, it’s been more than two years, and she even take money from her own friends!”

“Your idea of ​​holiness is very peculiar, John.” Michael told his cousin. “Well, I’ll look for something stronger to drink... The night is long and it’ll be difficult to bear it sober.”

“Did Tommy give you many orders?” Finn asked curiously.

“More than necessary for a charity dinner.”

“You’re the legal part of the business, Michael.” John gave him a gentle shoulder bump, as if trying to comfort him. “Unfortunately, it’s one of the many sides of this job; you should have gotten used to it by now.”

“Not that I’m complaining, but there are days I just want to...”

“Send everything to fucking hell and tell everyone to fuck off?”

“Something like this.” He nodded.

Michael’s five minutes turned into ten, then fifteen. Before Marie could relax because she hadn’t been bothered, she felt a pair of eyes watching her. Michael was standing between the arch that divided the hall and she was near the stairs, pretending he didn’t exist.

“He’s not part of the gang, right?” Thea’s question only served to prove Marie that he was really around. “The haircut... The way he behaves and the places he goes...”

“Michael is different.” She nodded. “Our task is to make Shelby Co. legal.”

“I see.” Her friend gave her a lopsided smile. “If I wasn’t completely in love with Louis, I don’t doubt that I’d have focused all my attention on Mr. Gray.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because he’s the best of both worlds, dummy! It’s danger and safety, legality and illegality, mystery and certainty... While you know he’s ‘clean’, you can’t prove he’s never gotten his hands dirty with anything from the Blinders.” Theodora numbered on her fingers as she described him. Although her tone didn’t indicate malice, Marie was a little offended.

She spoke like Charlotte.

Because, according to Michael himself, Charlotte was with him only for the thrill of being with a Blinder… As if he had nothing else to offer.

“Oh, I see.” She swallowed her discontentment. Thea lived in a different reality, and it was understandable that she ‘dreamed’ of more adventure. “He has a sweetheart.”

Despite Michael saying otherwise, she knew it was almost like that.

“Really? And where is she? Why didn’t she come with him?”

“I do not know.” Marie shrugged. “We don’t talk about it.”

“Well, her loss! I’m sure everyone already told you this, but I can’t help but compliment you on your attire. This gown is swell!” Thea smiled. “I wish I had the confidence to wear something similar, but I’m more conservative than I appear to be.”

“I confess that I did it on an impulse.”

Theodora opened her mouth to comment on Marie’s confession, but her voice didn’t come out. Michael walked toward their group with a scowl, his jaw clenched.

“Mr. Gray!” Thea smiled affably. “What brings you around here?!”

“Lady Tumblewood.” He made a courtesy. “Maria Clara.”

“Michael.” Marie braced her ears for a scolding.

“I think your notion of ‘five minutes’ is very different from mine.”

“Maybe.” She agreed, unable to avoid the teasing.

“So, just to be clear, your five minutes are up and we need to talk to all the people Tommy invited before dinner.” He pointed out, cranky. “Shall we?”

“By all means.” Marie hugged Thea. “See you later, right?”

“Of course! I’ll save you a seat at our table!”

“Thanks.” The Brazilian smiled, lifting her chin as she passed Michael.

They went for the Waldorfs first, then spoke to Mr. Rushford, who was a major sponsor of the horses Tommy owned at the races.

They were approaching Mr. Forsberg when chaos started.

Things happened so fast that Maria Clara couldn’t be sure of any chronological order if she needed to. One second, she was mentally repeating the speech she’d give to the man, and the next, she was being pressed into a wall by Michael’s body, who was holding her tighter than recommended. Marie wasn’t sure, but she could’ve sworn she heard a gunshot... However, since she was so focused on her meeting with Mr. Forsberg, maybe she’d imagined it… It could just possibly be something that fell on the floor and made a loud noise.

There was no reason for a shot to echo in that hall, with those people. No one would be crazy enough to shoot a Shelby or their rich, influential guests.

She opened her eyes, finding Michael’s side profile.

“What was this?” Forcing her voice to be heard, Marie absorbed all the uproar.

“Maria Clara, I need you to do exactly what I say.” Michael stared at her briefly. “On the count of three, hold my hand and let’s go to that door near the big stairs, all right?”

“Michael?”

“Not now.” He cut her off. “In three, Marie.”

“Wait! I need to hold the skirt for better speed!”

“Give me your hand.” His fingers searched for hers. “One. Two. Three!”

They ran without looking back, hands so tightly intertwined that their knots were starting to turn white. In the rush, Maria Clara didn’t notice that she ripped her gown’s skirt, creating a crease in the lace that went up to about her knee. As soon as they reached the door, Michael opened it and they entered a dark room, lit only by the moonlight coming through a small window... This probably was a storage room. The pale green globes glowed even in the pitch black, and Michael’s husky voice was like a blanket of false comfort to her.

“Are you okay?” He asked, panting slightly from the effort.

“I am fine. You?”

“Same.” He nodded. “I think we’d better wait a little before leaving.”

“Was that a shot?”

“Yeah.”

“Good Heaven’s!”

“I know… Still, let’s not panic, eh?!”

She almost laughed at him, but it’d be her nervous reflex. It didn’t help to be almost glued to Michael, smelling his musky male cologne. In order to gain some sanity, Marie took a step back, leaning against the wall and putting some distance between them. In a few minutes they could be out and she wouldn’t risk being caught red-handed totally enchanted by him — ‘cause if Lizzie noticed, surely other people noticed too. Maybe even him!

When the noises outside seemed to subside, he opened a crack to scan the place. There was just waiters and maids cleaning up broken glasses, overturned vases, trays and food. The atmosphere was absurdly tense; no one needed to be a genius to conclude that something serious had happened. Judging by the shot, someone was hurt or...

“Let’s go.” Michael reached for Marie’s hand. “We’re clear.”

“Are you cert–Oof!” She was pulled with force, bumping into his back. “Dammit, Michael! Please be gentle, eh?” Straightening her posture, she looked around the room.

Her voice trailed off at the sight of all the mess. Trying to organize her thoughts as she followed Michael out, she promised she wouldn’t freak out. Whatever happened there would need a calm person to solve it... If there was a solution, of course. Either way, a scared, about to have a mental breakdown girl wouldn’t be of help.

However, not all the calmness in the world would have prepared her for reality.

When they reached the entrance of the opulent building, Ada, Finn and John were chatting effusively, looking very, very worried. Esme, on the other hand, was apathetic near a column. Marie felt her stomach tug, a wave of agony washing over her.

“Oh! Finally!” John shouted. “Where the fuck were you both?!”

“We hid in a small room behind the stairs. What the hell happened?” Michael replied as soon as they approached the man. “Where is everyone?”

“They went to the hospital.” Ada spoke in a mixture of anxiety and dread. “G-Grace was shot… I don’t think she’ll resist.” She ran her hands over her face nervously. “Shit!”

Maria Clara could see the world coming out of its axis. This was, to say the least, horrible. She had no idea how to feel, for she never was friends with Grace, but… Tommy… Good God, he loved her with all his heart! After so many setbacks, they were finally starting a new life. Then, suddenly, the Fates give him such a stroke.

Poor Tommy.

Being the calm, wise mind she wanted to be, she took Ada’s hand.

“You need to go to the hospital; you must stay by Tommy’s side! I’m going to finish up here with the party staff and then I’ll go straight to your house, okay?”

“Who will stay with you? No chance you’ll remain alone.”

Marie looked around, wanting so badly to say ‘Finn’ but holding back, because he should be at the hospital too. Esme, although in shock, would be good company.

“I’ll stay.” Michael intruded. “Marie and I are the legal side, anyway. We’ll pay everyone and check the cleaning, then we’ll meet at your place, Ada.”

“Now go! Tommy needs you lot!” The Brazilian hurried them.

After nearly two hours of tiding up, Michael gathered the employees and paid them. He also told them to take all the food since dinner was cancelled. Ironically, when he went to search for Maria Clara, he found her sitting in the cloakroom with a huge tray of canapés and finger sandwiches on her lap, as well as an open bottle of champagne.

Unable to help himself, Michael let out a chuckle.

“How are you hungry amidst of chaos?” He wondered.

Marie looked up to find him standing in the doorway. Her heart sped up in something like catharsis, relief that he hadn’t been the one who got shot; as selfish and inappropriate as it was, she just couldn’t help the feeling. In fact, she wanted to run to him and squeeze him tight, just to make sure he was still alive and well.

If she was a little braver, maybe she would.

When she didn’t answer, Michael approached her, grabbing a sandwich. It was the first time he felt the intensity of her gaze, and it made him a bit uncomfortable.

Marie took a generous gulp of champagne, shaking her head. Either she’d get up and leave soon, or maybe, just maybe, she’d let impulse get the better of her and kiss him. It was the kind of first kiss she’d have never imagined, but under the night’s circumstances, she’d discovered that life was far too small... She had to seize it, didn’t she?

And never having been kissed, especially at the age of three and twenty, didn’t seem like a joyful way to live.

Staring at Michael, she memorised his sharp jaw, his straight nose and pretty eyebrows, his hair in the pompadour style that set him apart from all the other Blinders, and that smart, cruel mouth of his, always so ready to tease her as if it was its favourite activity.

“We need to leave the venue, milady; Ada should be home with some news by now.” He prompted. Although Maria Clara seemed to wake up from a trance, she remained silent and her attention was still fixed on him. “Is there something on my face?”

Her cheeks heated and embarrassment flooded her veins. It would be naïve to hope he hadn’t noticed that she was watching him so intensely.

“Can I bring this tray with me?” She changed topics, trying to escape the shame.

“Sure. You can bring the drink too.” He nodded. “Want me to grab your coat?”

“Yes, please.” Standing up, Marie took the food and champagne bottle.

“Was there something on my face?” Michael insisted.

“No.” She replied quickly. “I was just... It hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“I know, but it’s better to be prepared for the worst.”

“Poor Tommy, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”

“Life’s like this. One minute you’re with someone you love, and next thing you know, without warning, they’re taken away from you.” Shrugging, Michael was oblivious to the pity look she gave him. His story with Polly was exactly like that...

“But it’s still sad.”

“Indeed.” He agreed. “You know what’s sad too?!”

“What?”

“That I couldn’t ruin your night, someone unfortunately did it before me.”

Maria Clara stifled a laughter. How dare he make a joke at a time like that?! But his dark sense of humour was one of the things she liked best about him.

“That was so crass, Michael!” Her voice was bubbly, a grin spreading on her lips.

“It is a gift.” He bowed at her, then opened the door for them.

Marie stared at him, repeating to herself that she was so grateful that he hadn’t been shot that she was about to weep in joy. Well, that was also crass.

Maybe they did have something in common, after all.

[edupunkn00b]

Revisions, Ch. 30: Forbidden Love

Prev - Forbidden Love - Masterpost - [ AO3 ] Complete

Tags: Angst, Blood Mention, Advanced Hanahaki Disease - WC: 4419

Logan sat propped up in his hospital bed, his dinner sitting untouched on the faded peach plastic tray. He wore a thin hospital gown, the cords from his heart rate monitors snaking down the short sleeves, two separate IVs for fluids on his arms. He wore a molded oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, delivering a constant push of 100% O2 in a desperate attempt to force more oxygen into his lungs. His pulse ox monitor was sitting on the bed next to him.

He couldn’t type with it on.

"But why didn't you tell me, Data?" There was no time for formality. "Is it the Captain thing? You know, captains are allowed to have—” Data shook his head. "Data?" "I did not tell you because… because it is you." Data tried to sit up, and erupted in something approximating a human cough. The diagnostic bed went haywire, alarms sounding and a light flashed in Dr. Zimmerman’s office, alerting him to Data’s rapidly deteriorating readings. "I am not a man." The artificial irises in his left and right eyes began to focus and unfocus independent of each other when he looked at Geordi. "I am merely an android and you deserve so much more than I could ever give you." "Oh, Data." Geordi took his hand. "No, you're not flesh and blood, but you are most certainly a man. An incredible, flawed, exceptional man." Geordi traced his artificially perfect hairline. "Of course I love you, too." Data coughed up the last of the chips and crashed back against the diagnostic bed. He breathed deeply

Logan swore and pounded the backspace key. Data doesn't breathe.

Yes, and soon neither will you. Press the damned call button and get the nurse to find Remus. He’s probably still in the hospital.

Logan gazed at the picture from his bulletin board that Remus had left for him. He shook his head and focused on his keyboard instead.

Data ran a diagnostic

He banged the keyboard. That's ridiculous.

Data's eyes glowed and the lights in his positronic circuitry blinked in a rapid sequence, spiraling outward in a pattern mimicking the golden ratio, as his primary operating algorithm moved into a new switch case. Geordi leaned closer, eyes moving from the rapidly changing metrics on the diagnostic screen and the shifting expressions on Data's face. "Data, are you alright? Can you hear me?" Data smiled and placed his hands on Geordi's shoulders, pulling him in for their first—real—kiss.

Tears splashed down on Logan's hands as he saved the file and hit publish. He didn’t bother to edit. He wouldn't be around to see the inevitable typos anyway. He closed the lid on his laptop just as another coughing spell wracked his body.

~~~~~

“Well, Mr. Sanders, how about another treatment?” The lung specialist held a nebulizer in front of his face, checking his vitals. She didn’t say anything, but Logan could read the numbers on the device in the mirror over the sink. His pulse ox was down to 91.

“You know, Mr. Sanders, in reality, Hanahaki isn’t actually all that rare. In most people it typically presents as a bad cold.” Logan glared at her over the edge of his glasses. “I started studying pulmonology because I’d read about it in a story back in college.” She increased the flow rate for the nebulizer, watching Logan’s pulse ox edge up to 91.3. “I was shocked when I started my residency and learned it was actually real.”

“Why—” Logan coughed and Dr. Lobel pushed the nebulizer at his face again. “Why does…”

Dr. Lobel smiled down at him. “Why have you never heard of it, then?” Logan nodded weakly, head slumped against the pillows, eyes following her movements. “It is rare for it to last long enough to present in the flower stage. Even a single petal is a sign of extremely advanced Hanahaki's. The disease itself is a social adaptation. The genes for it are all up and down the primate line.” She removed and re-seated the little monitor on Logan’s finger, frowning at the unchanged readings.

“It’s not based on infatuation or something so easily one-sided. And it’s resolved by sharing the feelings. Most theorists believe the initial light cough and fatigue are… like a baby’s cry.” She patted his hand. “It’s our body’s way of biologically reaching out for… care from those we love… and who love us in return.” She looked away. “And because it’s actually driven by love, not just a strong emotional or physical attraction…” Dr. Lobel shook her head. “Actual true love takes time, time spent with the other person.”

She met Logan’s eyes. “People don’t willingly spend a lot of time around people they don’t already feel something for. Not always, but usually, real love blooms slowly, between both people at the same time. It needs more time than a one-sided infatuation could provide.”

She gave Logan a moment to let her words sink in before she continued. "The overwhelming majority of Hanahaki patients are not suffering unrequited love."

Frowning again at the readings, she maxed out the flow of the nebulizer and raised her eyebrow at all the things Remus had asked the ICU doctor to give to Logan for his room. “Tell me again why you don’t want your friends to visit.”

“I’m the exception… to your rule,” he gasped out quietly. “They can’t know.”

Dr. Lobel quietly nodded, watching Logan’s pulse ox readings slowly inch higher until they topped out at 94%. “Here, Mr. Sanders, I’m going to put your oxygen back on, alright?”

He nodded and laid back against the pillows, breathing shallowly. “I might just… rest a little.”

She patted his hand. “When you wake up, I’ll likely be off. My shift ends in a little under an hour. Dr. Lucas will be on duty then. You’ll like him. You’ll be in good hands.”

“Thank you… Dr. Lobel.”

~~~~~

Janus skidded to a stop just outside the entrance to the Blue Building and cut the motorcycle's engine. "Yes!" Remus cheered, raising his arms above his head and leaping off the back of the bike. He offered Janus his hand after he'd pocked the keys and they raced inside. They stopped in front of a large directory board. The building had twenty floors. Janus squeezed Remus' hand a little tighter as he eyed the elevator bay a few feet from where they stood.

"Okay… floors ten through fourteen are marked as Pulmonary. Oh, but ten is Pediatric." Remus squeezed Remus' hand. "Stairs or elevator?"

"Elevator," Janus whispered with a small nod.

Looping his arm through Janus', Remus wove their fingers together and kissed his hand. He let Janus press the button and they waited together, watching the little signal lights change on the outside of each elevator. They appeared to move quickly, which let Janus breathe a little easier, and strengthened his resolve. It was the faster path to Logan.

"We'll start at the top and work our way down?" Remus suggested, holding Janus' hand in both of his, pressing little kissing along his knuckles and tickling his skin with his mustache.

Janus nodded.

The doors opened and they stepped inside, Janus' hand tightening on Remus' when the elevator gave a little half-hop as the doors closed. They were alone, which Janus appreciated, and he kept his eyes closed, listening as Remus quietly read off the floor numbers as they moved. The incident at the mall hadn't completely re-awoken his phobia, but it definitely made even simple elevator trips more difficult. Before the doors had even fully opened on fourteen, Janus stepped through sideways, pulling Remus behind him.

The floor was quiet. Janus checked his phone. It was well after 11 o'clock, almost certainly after visiting hours. They must have had a stroke of luck not have been stopped in the lobby downstairs. "Ready for a little morally questionable activity?" Janus asked with a smirk, heart rate slowly returning to normal now that they were out of the elevator.

"Always, Jannie."

~~~~~

Logan was woken by the sound of the sink in the corner of his room. His eyes cracked open and he saw a tall man in a white lab coat washing his hands. He watched as he dried them, then applied hand lotion and gloves. “Doctor Lucas?” he guessed, then was seized by another coughing fit.

Dr. Lucas snatched up a basin and hurried to his side, catching the flowers and blood Logan coughed up. After several minutes, the fit subsided and he disposed of the basin, fetched a clean one and filled it with warm water to wash away the petals and blood from Logan’s face and neck.

Logan laid back against the pillows, panting. His vision was dark around the edges, dotted with white stars. He fumbled for his oxygen mask and Dr. Lucas quickly helped him pull the elastic straps into place, then pressed his stethoscope against his chest to listen to his lungs. First the front, reaching under Logan’s gown to place the cold metal disk on either side of his ribs. Then he leaned Logan forward and did the same to his back, listening intently. Finally, he gently laid Logan back against his pillows and increased the pressure of his oxygen flow.

Logan’s pulse oximeter was beeping an alarm and Dr. Lucas silenced it. He pulled up a stool and sat next to Logan’s bed.

After a few more minutes of the oxygen, Logan’s vision began to focus and he got a good look at the doctor beside him. Oh my god…

“Am I hallucinating?” he gasped, mouth hanging open. “Is that… actually you, Mark?” Logan pulled weakly on his blanket, suddenly very aware of the thinness of his hospital gown.

Mark nodded and helped him cover himself. “Yes, Logan, it’s me. I apologize… I’m the only pulmonary specialist on duty tonight or… I would’ve found you another doctor. I can still have a nurse practitioner do your vitals and—”

Logan waved a hand and turned away, trying to shake his head. “It’s fine. Dying anyway.” He lay still, sucking in as much of the oxygen as his clogged lungs would allow.

Mark gestured to the photograph next to Logan’s bed. “May I?” he asked.

Logan’s eyes followed Mark’s gaze and his face tightened, but he shrugged, “Sure.”

He looked at the picture for a long time. “Is that your old roommate Roman?”

“On the… left,” Logan said quietly, wheezing. “That’s his brother… Remus.”

Mark looked around the room at his laptop and the calendar sitting on the adjustable bed tray. “The guy who brought all this stuff.” Logan nodded, looking at the picture in Mark’s hands. Mark pretended not to notice when Logan wiped away a tear.

“It’s him,” Mark said. It wasn’t a question. Logan looked away. Mark gazed down at the picture again, shaking his head. “This looks like a really great group of friends.” He looked up and caught Logan’s eyes. “So why are you in here all alone?”

“If you are asking why…” Logan tried to stifle a cough. “Why I don’t want the loves of my life…” his breathing grew more labored, a whine now sounding with each gasp. “To live with the guilt… for the rest of their lives be—”

Mark put down the picture and brought over the nebulizer, swapping out Logan's oxygen mask for the treatment mask. He adjusted the head of Logan’s bed, raising him to a completely upright position. They were mostly quiet during the treatment, Mark only muttering, “C’mon, Logan, just two more minutes,” when his breathing grew shallow and his head listed to the side. “You need to take deep breaths now.”

When the treatment was over, the wheezing had eased but Logan still panted to get enough oxygen. Mark slid the oxygen mask back over his nose and mouth. “I’m… I'm sorry I never looked you up after graduation. I’ve thought about you… a lot.”

Logan turned and met his eyes, panting behind his oxygen mask. His gaze trailed down to Mark’s left hand. “You married.” He panted a bit more. “What’s she like?”

Mark swallowed and looked down at his ring. “He’s in the oncology department.” Logan nodded and looked away. They let the silence fall over them, interrupted only by the hiss of Logan’s oxygen and a periodic beep from his IV.

Finally, Mark spoke again. “I’m so sorry for the way I treated you, Logan. I… I… wasn’t ready to accept…”

Logan flopped his hand near where Mark’s rested on the bedrail. “We both made mistakes… You were drunk… I should’ve just… said no… walked you home.”

Mark shook his head. “Oh, Logan, I was barely tipsy. I’d had half a beer before going to your room. It was just an excuse.”

They sat in silence while Mark straightened his lab coat and adjusted the pulse oximeter on Logan’s finger. Finally he asked, “This isn’t because of—”

He shook his head. “No. No guilty… conscience for you.”

“I didn’t—”

Logan raised his hand. “I know,” he managed. “I’d like to rest… Dr. Lucas.” Mark nodded and stood up.

“Of course, Mr. Sanders. I’ll check on you in about an hour,” he said. But Logan’s eyes were already closed, chest heaving to pull in each breath.

Mark looked at the smiling faces in the picture on Logan’s table and shook his head. He washed his hands, then left the room. He went to the nurse’s station to record his notes about Logan’s condition, then read through the print out from his pulse ox readings since he’d been in the ambulance. Even on 100% O2, Logan was deteriorating. Rapidly. He returned Logan’s chart to the rack just as the head nurse snapped, sounding like she had reached the end of her patience with a particularly pushy visitor.

“And as I told you, unless you are a spouse or parent”—the man crossed his arms and made an affronted noise—”I cannot give you any information. The patient would need to sign a release and without it I do not have any authorization to talk to you. Now… Do I need to call security or can you make your way to the elevator without an escort?”

“C’mon, Jannie,” a man with bright green hair who’d been sitting in a row of chairs a few feet away approached the seething man in the suit at the nurse’s station. “Let’s figure something else out.”

“Excuse me…” Mark wracked his brain… “Ah, Mr.—Mr. Prince!” Both men pivoted, eyes wide.

The man with green hair stepped closer. “That’s me."

“I’ve been looking for you.” Mark stared at his face. This was definitely the guy in Logan’s picture. Mark turned to the nurse. “There’s some kind of mix up in Mr. Sander’s paperwork. His spouse wasn’t listed." Mark gestured toward Remus. "He and Mr. Prince are married.”

"Hm." The nurse raised an eyebrow at the three men. “I assume you have a marriage certificate with you or some other documentation, then?” She looked pointedly at Remus’ left hand. “Neither of you wear rings.”

“I’ve been trying to convince them,” Janus jumped in smoothly, leaning one elbow on the the counter and shaking his head. “They’re just so darn stubborn.”

The nurse looked at Mark. “Dr. Lucas, how do you know they’re married?”

He shrugged, “I went to college with Mr. Prince’s brother. I was invited to the wedding but… couldn’t make it.” He looked at Remus. “I’m sorry I missed it. Open bar? Roman told me it was quite a party.”

Remus stared at him, but nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

Janus smiled at Mark, “We are quite fortunate that you were here to help clear things up.” He tugged at Remus’ sleeve. “Would you be willing to show us to Logan’s room?”

~~~~~

The room was significantly darker the next time Logan opened his eyes. He’d been dreaming he was flying, high above the clouds, his left hand intertwined with Remus’, Janus’ hand in his right. They were laughing, and had just swooped through clouds tinged a hundred different shades of pink, dipping past the setting sun when he woke.

He inhaled sharply, the shock of waking up, covered in tubes, in a cold hospital room triggering a coughing spell. Gentle hands held a basin in front of him, rubbing his back. His ears filled with static as he coughed, and his vision went blurry. He could hear the nurses around him talking, but he couldn’t make out their words.

Finally, after a long time, the coughing eased and his eyes fell closed. A soft cloth dampened with warm water dabbed at his mouth and around his nose, then was replaced with his oxygen mask. The cloth came back, dabbing his forehead, cheeks, and neck. Finally, he blinked, eyes still half closed. “Thank… you,” he gasped between pained breaths.

A gentle, familiar hand brushed his hair from his face. “Anything for you, Lo.”

Tears pricked his eyes. The nurse sounded just like Janus. “No, don’t cry, Lo Lo,” another voice said, picking up his hand and brushing away his tears. The nurse who sounded like Janus kissed his forehead.

“Wait… are you really here…” Logan’s voice cracked.

Janus took his other hand, cradling it, being careful not to dislodge the pulse oximeter. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth.“We’re really here, Lo.”

“Why?” Logan blinked slowly, looking from one to the other.

"'Why?'" Janus repeated. “You’re sick, Lo, you need care, you…”

Logan closed his eyes, tears quietly dripping down his face. “You don’t… need to stay… I’ll be fine….”

“That’s bullshit, Lo.” Remus snapped. “We love you and we’re not fucking going anywhere.”

“Wha—” Logan opened his eyes. “Oh… I’m still dreaming.” He smiled and looked between them and pulled their hands closer to his chest. Despite his shaky grin, his tears increased. “I love you… I love you, Janus… I love you, Remus." He gasped for breath but was unwilling to let go of the chance to say everything he wanted to these dream versions of Janus and Remus. "I love both of you… so much… my secret’s out.”

Janus and Remus carefully cradled Logan between them, kissing the sides of his head. His hands fumbled, patting at their shoulders and letting his head fall back against his pillows. “I… should wake up soon… The dreams… never last this long.”

“Lo, this isn’t a dream,” Janus cupped his cheek, peering closely into his eyes. “You’re awake, love.”

“But… but you said… you loved me.” Logan’s panting grew heavier, his mask fogging up.

“Yeah, Lo Lo.” Remus brushed his cheek. “Because we do.”

“But… but I love you, too…” Logan coughed, breathing more heavily.

Janus rubbed his back, “Yes, you said that.”

“But that means—” Logan’s words were interrupted by another cough. Remus got the basin and the pair stood by him, rubbing his back as he coughed and hacked and choked until a large, thorny vine, at least a half a meter long lay in his lap, covered in blood-splattered, bright green and yellow blossoms. Logan lay back against his bed, breathing shakily but… breathing. Remus cleared away the vine, putting it on a counter near the sink, then returned with a fresh cloth. He dabbed at his mouth as Logan’s vision cleared, and they mirrored each other’s watery smiles.

Logan continued to try to catch his breath, and waved away Janus’ attempt to place his oxygen mask back on his face. “No, I think I… I think I don’t need it.” Logan pulled each of them close. “I just need you.”

Epilogue - A Three-Stranded Braid

Logan straightened Janus’ tie, tucking his pinkies in on either side of the knot to create perfectly symmetrical creases. “I think you look quite dashing in this color.”

“Dashing?” he repeated, smiling with a hint of a blush painting his cheeks. “Really?” Janus grinned as he took Logan's hand and kissed it with a wink.

Turning him around to face the mirror, Logan met his eyes in the reflection and smiled over his shoulder. “Yes, really.”

He craned his neck to look at Remus who lounged on the bed next to them, watching them with sparkling eyes. His tie was draped, undone, over his neck and open collar. “Are you quite certain you would not like me to tie yours, as well, Meus?”

“Agh!” he scoffed, hand pressed to his chest. He flipped off the bed and stood next to the two of them, wrapping his arms around them tightly. “Are you two implying you don’t appreciate my look?”

“On the contrary, my dear Muse, you look delectable like this, however…”

“However,” Logan said quietly, stepping closer and tugging lightly on either end of Remus' bowtie with a tiny smirk. “If you allow me to do your tie before the ceremony, then I get to stand pressed up against you like this.”

Remus winked at Janus. “Oh, but Lo Lo… With each of you in those perfect little bowties”—he stroked either side of Logan's bow, then drew a line down the front of his shirt—”then later tonight, I get to press up against you, un-do your ties and then allow you to do me.”

“He makes an excellent argument, Jan,” Logan said, clearing his throat and smiling past the heated flush crawling up his face.

Janus laughed, “I concur.” Quickly kissing each of them, he returned to his reflection, fiddling with his collar. “I am still wondering—”

“Nope, you don’t get to see the rings until the ceremony, Jannie.”

“But what if—”

“Jannie?” Remus stood behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do, Muse.”

“Lo Lo…” Remus hooked his arm through Logan’s and pulled him close until all three stood together. “Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

“Ha!” Remus laughed, planting a kiss first on Logan’s mouth, then Janus’ and danced away out of the room. “Then you’re both suckers and you’ll just have to wait until the ceremony!”

~~~~~

“Once upon a time, there were two Princes. Handsome, charming, gifted Princes.”

Their living room had been transformed. Roman and Virgil had moved the coffee table and two of the armchairs off to one side, opening up a large area in the center of the room. Strands of multicolored flowers were hung like banners over the walls and along the back of the couch. Soft music played and a sea of flickering candles illuminated the space. The six friends stood in two concentric circles roughly where the coffee table normally sat. Patton, Roman, and Virgil stood in the outer circle, with Remus, Logan, and Janus together in the center.

Remus held a cord, about three meters long, made from yellow, indigo, and green silk braided together. He winked at Logan when he laughed at his description of the princes.

“When they grew to adulthood, the younger Prince,” he nodded at Roman and Virgil, “Quickly found a prince of his own and later formed a new, smaller kingdom together with his brother."

“Slowly, their kingdom grew. The elder brother had found his own prince,” Remus took Janus’ hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissed his knuckles, then wound one end of the cord around his hand three times.

“Gradually, others joined their kingdom,” Remus looked first at Patton, who grinned back, and then at Logan. “They provided companionship, joy, and laughter to everyone in their tiny realm.”

Remus took Logan’s hand. “The elder Prince, though, saw a longing in one of their new friends. A longing he recognized. A longing he sought to remedy.” He lifted Logan’s hand to his lips, kissed his knuckles just as he’d kissed Janus’, then wound the other end of the cord around his palm three times.

“The elder Prince made it his mission to find what would bring real joy to their friend’s aching heart. Eventually, both Princes discovered,” Remus met Janus’ eyes, and they both looked to Logan, “that what would make their hearts overflow with joy would be to share their love and their lives with their dear friend.” Janus took Logan’s other hand and kissed it. “They were in love.”

Remus cupped Logan’s cheek. “But first, they had a dragon to defeat. The dragon was beautiful but fierce. Its scales sparked like green and yellow jewels, and its voice was deep and warm. But the dragon lied. Great, terrible, fiery lies.” He stepped closer to Logan and Janus so they now formed more of a triangle. “The dragon told their friend that he was not loved. And the dragon told the princes that their friend did not love them.”

Logan reached out and brushed a tear from Janus’ face, and before he could lower his hand, Janus pressed his palm against his cheek, softly kissing Logan’s wrist.

“Their friend tried to defeat the dragon by himself. But its lies were too powerful. Fortunately, the trio had help in the form of healers and a rogue and a mighty V-twin softail steed.” Patton sniffled, caught up in the story. “And they defeated the dragon together.”

Remus took the middle section of the cord and wound the last bit around their joined hands. “And so they decided to commit to each other,” he looked up at Roman, Virgil, and Patton, “before an audience of their friends, that from then on, they would join together and every dragon, every battle, and every joy would be shared between the three of them. That none of them would ever have to face such perils alone again.

“They chose the three-strand braid as a symbol of their intertwined, life-long commitment to each other.” With his free hand, Remus retrieved a small box from his pocket. The trio opened it together and, inside, lay three rings, each a braided circle of yellow, rose, and white gold.

Logan sucked in a breath when he saw the rings. His mind flashed back to lying in bed, wrapped in Remus' arms, hands extended and smiling at their matching rings. Remus looked at him, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t like them, Lo Lo? We can change them.”

“Remus, no, they’re perfect.” Janus smiled and took Logan's ring and placed it on his hand. Logan took Remus', sliding it into place as he waggled his eyebrows and bit his lip. Logan blushed but smiled. Finally, Remus placed Janus' ring on his finger.

Logan looked up at Remus and Janus, tears spilling over his grin. “I wouldn't change a thing.”

taglist: @mavenmush @melaniidarling @braingobur @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred @tsfanficarchive @tsshipmonth2020

[kafeuka]

a gentle sin

“I, for sure, thought you would give me a sarcastic remark, Yoongi. But are you, really?”

“I, what?”

“Proud of me?”

With a small smile, Yoongi replied, “Always.” (read on ao3 here)

Even before Ms. Son could knock on his door to inform him of a guest downstairs, Yoongi could already tell that it was Taehyung from his hurried footsteps. Yoongi turned on his stool, expecting Taehyung to burst into his room like the boy Yoongi had remembered him to be. Instead, he heard a knock first, but before Yoongi could answer, Taehyung had already opened the door, his wide, charming grin plastered on his face.

Yoongi could not help but mirror Taehyung’s expression; his lips seemed to stretch on their own without Yoongi even realizing. He stood up, stretching his hand outwards to shake Taehyung’s hand, only for him to be enveloped into a warm embrace.

Yoongi was never fond of hugging, as he never knew what to do with his hands but with Taehyung, he found himself embracing the boy back, hands softly clutching onto Taehyung’s coat as he inhaled Taehyung’s scent. Taehyung had grown slightly taller and admittedly, bigger than him since they’ve last met, much to his disdain.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you!” murmured Taehyung, warm breath tickling Yoongi’s ear.

Slightly embarrassed, Yoongi pulled away and reached out to tousle Taehyung’s curls. “And I to you, Taehyung. I see that Paris had been treating you well,” beamed Yoongi.

Taehyung let out a hearty chuckle, putting his hands into the pocket of his coat as he shrugged. “Wonderful country, but I would very much rather be here with you.”

Yoongi felt his heart stutter in his chest at the words Taehyung so shamelessly utter. How could a boy say those words so boldly to another boy? But this was Taehyung, who had always worn his heart on his sleeve, whose face never betray any emotions.

“Hundreds of sunsets in Paris and you’d still rather be in this lonely town with me? A jester, you are, Taehyung,” laughed Yoongi, and he missed the way Taehyung’s expression changed.

“I made Sowon purchase tickets for the opera tonight. For two. Would you be so kind to accompany me like the old times, Yoongi?” asked Taehyung as he took out two familiar green tickets from the coat of his pocket.

“It would be my pleasure.”

      They were seated in one of the balcony booths, a place that Taehyung have always wanted to secure from the first moment they stepped foot inside the theatre. Yoongi had given Taehyung a knowing smile when they were guided to their booth, and Taehyung replied with a playful grin.

Once they have seated, Taehyung leaned in to whisper, “I’ve sold twenty paintings for this moment, Yoongi. Are you proud of me?”

Yoongi placed a hand in front of his lips to stop himself from letting out a giggle before he replied, “I do. Don’t you read any of my letters, Taehyung? I’ve always known you are made to be a painter, after all.”

Yoongi could see the peach colouring Taehyung’s honey cheeks, and there was a surprise look on Taehyung’s face.

“I, for sure, thought you would give me a sarcastic remark, Yoongi. But are you, really?”

“I, what?”

“Proud of me?”

With a small smile, Yoongi replied, “Always.”

    Yoongi had watched A Gentle Sin countless of times, and it was the first play that he and Taehyung had watched together. To say that Yoongi was familiar with the opera would be an understatement, but no matter how many times he had attended, he would always find a new detail in the play that he would grow to love.

A forbidden love story between two star-crossed lovers; a mortal and an immortal who only walks at night. Romance was only enjoyable to Yoongi if it had done right, and A Gentle Sin never failed to tug at his heartstrings.

He and Taehyung would discuss every play they have watched together on their way home, which was curious to Yoongi as to why he found Taehyung’s gaze kept on lingering to him during the play.

There was a small voice in Yoongi’s head that was feeding him thoughts he prayed to not be true, and he tried to drown it by focusing on the play instead. He convinced himself that Taehyung was simply bored but did not wish to interrupt Yoongi, thus the lingering gazes.

    If it weren’t for Yoongi’s insistence to converse about the play, the walk back home would be eerily silent which would be very unlike Taehyung, for it was always Taehyung who would prattle on and on about every tiny new detail that he had spotted during the play. This time, however, it was Yoongi who carried the conversation.

Taehyung only watched as Yoongi excitedly describe in detail, his eyes never leaving Yoongi. Often, he would hum and agree in respond, and it made Yoongi felt as if he was conversing with a wall, but Yoongi was too afraid to be silent.

Yoongi had the strong desire to run away when he finally ran out of things to say, which was terrible because there was something in him that kept on urging him to talk. When he turned to Taehyung, Taehyung was looking at him with a look that gave him a sudden panic, praying for him to vanish into thin air.

To his surprise and relief, Taehyung opened his lips to speak, “Do you mind if I come over and listen to you play?”

“No, I don’t mind at all.”

     They were sitting side by side on the piano stool; Yoongi skillfully playing the piano as Taehyung watched. When it ended, Taehyung clapped his hands and let out a rather dramatic gasp before showering Yoongi with flattery. “How amazing you are, Yoongi!”

The never-ending compliment turned Yoongi’s ears red, and lips stretched into a grin. “Oh, stop it, you!”

“That was a new one, is it not? It’s your own composition, admit it.”

“Yes, it is. It’s a struggle to come up with something original lately, but creating music brings me joy,” said Yoongi, a finger pressing on one of the black keys on the piano.

“So do I, with painting. It brings me immense joy to hold a brush and bring the images in my mind to life. I haven’t properly thanked you yet… you and your grandfather, for sending me abroad.” Taehyung’s voice dropped an octave as he said so, his eyes were casted downwards on the piano keys.  

“Please, there is no need to thank us. We wanted to do it, Taehyung. You deserve it, you ray of sunshine. I know you can make your family proud,” murmured Yoongi.

“I—” Taehyung opened his lips to speak as he turned hastily to Yoongi, but no words left his mouth.

Yoongi faced Taehyung, and the look Taehyung was giving him sent a shiver down his spine. He had somehow known that this would happen, but he had been ignoring his feelings and assuring himself that he was wrong that the moment he dreaded was here and Yoongi was powerless and helpless to stop it. In an effort to lift the tension in the room, Yoongi reached out to ruffle Taehyung’s dark locks and let out a laugh that he hoped did not sound forced.

“Missing Paris already?” joked Yoongi, his fingers still buried in Taehyung’s soft curls.

Before Yoongi could withdraw his hand back, Taehyung had wrapped his hand around Yoongi’s wrist, holding it gently.

There was a seriousness in Taehyung’s eyes that Yoongi had never seen there before, and it was starting to worry Yoongi. He wanted to run away, to lock himself to another chamber, but they were still in Yoongi’s haven — his bedroom – and with Taehyung holding his wrist, Yoongi could only stay seated through this torment.

Yoongi tried to move his hand by lowering it, but somehow his palm ended up against Taehyung’s cheek, and Taehyung was still holding him gently with those wildfire in his eyes.

“Yoongi, my dearest, I—”

It was Taehyung who spoke, but it felt as if there were words stuck in Yoongi’s throat. Yoongi swallowed, not daring to move or breathe.

With a sigh and unblinking eyes, Taehyung said, “I have loved you since I’ve known you. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is you. I— I couldn’t help it, Yoongi, you’ve been so kind to me, to my family and I’ve tried to show you, but you wouldn’t let me, and even when I tried to say it, you’ve never responded and I can’t go on any longer, I simply can’t.”

“Oh, dear, no, Taehyung, please… I thought you’d understand that we can’t— we —” implored Yoongi, both hands cupping Taehyung’s cheeks.

Taehyung closed his eyes, basking in Yoongi’s touch before exhaling and opening his eyes.

“You love me too, don’t you?”

“I can’t—” began Yoongi, but he was struggling to find the right words. Taehyung was looking at him with those doe eyes, patiently waiting and it made Yoongi’s heart ache. “— I’m so desperately sorry, Taehyung. I can’t, we can’t, it’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

“What ever do you mean by that?”

“You’ll fine a lovely, accomplished girl that will truly adore you. You enjoy the elegant society, the dance, and you’d hate my spending my time composing, locking myself in my room, my constant scribbling—”

“No, I won’t, you’ve made me a better man, my love. You, Yoongi, you,” spoke Taehyung with a fierce tone.

“Don’t, Taehyung. Please don’t call me that, I am anything but that. I can’t, I simply can’t,” cried Yoongi, letting go of Taehyung’s face.

Taehyung’s face fell, and if the room was any quieter, Yoongi was frightened that he could hear Taehyung’s heart breaking into pieces. Taehyung had grown so still, his gaze finally leaving Yoongi’s face only to settle on the ground, and for a moment, Yoongi thought that Taehyung would run away, but it seemed as if Yoongi’s words were too much for him to bear that Taehyung laid his head down on edge of the fallboard and closed his eyes.

“Please, Taehyung, listen to me. I am so grateful to you, and so proud and fond of you, I wish I could say that I can see myself in the future with you, but I can’t. Not now, not when there are scrutinizing eyes everywhere. I don’t believe I shall ever marry, and I love my liberty too well to be in any hurry to give it up for anyone. Not for a mortal woman, not for a mortal man.”

Taehyung looked up from the fallboard, eyes filled with love and longing, and Yoongi wished that he could say what Taehyung wished to hear. How could he deny the poor boy, when his lashes were wet, and his eyes were begging for Yoongi to reciprocate his feelings?

“I know better than you, Yoongi, I know you!” broke in Taehyung, tears streaming down his face, “There will come a time when you will care for somebody, and I know you will love them tremendously. I know you will, and it hurts because it isn’t me— because I am not enough, because I am not half good enough for you!”

“I do care about you, but not the way you want me to, Taehyung, please…” pleaded Yoongi, feeling his heart moving up to his throat. He reached out to hold Taehyung’s arm, but even in his anger, Taehyung managed to gently push Yoongi’s hand away. Yoongi’s hands itched to hold onto Taehyung, to mend his broken heart, but he could only watch as the boy silently sob.

“If it was a man, I know you would not think twice to marry him. There will come a day when you would live and die for him. I know you, Yoongi. And I’ll be hanged if I stand by and watch you with him.”

“Tae…”

Taehyung stood up from the stool abruptly, not bothering to wipe the tears on his face as he stormed out of the room. Yoongi stayed frozen in his seat, his hands shaking and lips trembling. And on this day, he had understood; his gentle sin was this— he had been loving Taehyung ever since he had known what love was, and he had made Taehyung believed otherwise.

[pandawritesmanythings]

Chapter Summary: It's hard to trust people who are known to be backstabbers, isn't it?

Word Count: 1,541k

Warnings: Gossip, deceit, manipulation (it might not be obvious by who!), tw: knives.

Masterlist

It was the second day of the celebration. Bucky had yet to return with the scrolls and those who came along with the valuable archives.

And you felt like death.

Sigyn noticed it, and you noticed that Sigyn noticed it.

"Is there something you wish to say, Sigyn?" You asked with a teasing smile, which only widened when you saw her getting flustered.

"W-Well. It's just... Your majesty seems to no be faring very well today..."

"I didn't get much sleep last night. My thoughts sometimes storm too loud." You vaguely alluded to the real source of your sleeping issues.

"I see." She quietly nodded before resuming her work on your hair.

"Do you have any advice for me today, dear?" You asked as Wanda brought you your breakfast and bounced left and right tidying up your room.

"Today the festivities shall be outside. The gardens are extensive, and the beach is close by, so I would imagine that the royal family might want to take a stroll down the shoreline.

You must work on convincing the king that this is a secure alliance. I suspect that some of the lords are still not thoroughly convinced..."

"I'll make sure to do just that." You agreed. "Thank you for your help, my dear."

"I just want to make sure that both Asgard and Midgard may be in good terms. And that the prince..." She trailed off.

Wanda eyed you and you waved to dismiss her. She made up a quick excuse and left the room.

You then turned to Sigyn who had gone inexplicably quiet. "Please, do not be afraid of continuing. You and I will spend a lot of time together. It is only natural that we learn to confide in each other."

The blonde looked unsure but nodded. "I wish the prince happiness. I know you are good. You've been so kind to me, and you are smart and beautiful. But I've known the prince all of my life, and I don't know if he'll be happy."

"I wish that he was happy too. In the short time I've known him he has proven to be insufferable and a know-it-all, but he has a unique charm. And we have both been honest to a fault with each other. The least I can do is treat him with kindness."

Sign's face scrunched up in confusion. "Pardon me, m'lady but... I believe you've got it all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Loki is not well known for his truthfulness. No, he is the trickster, the liesmith, the dark prince of the realm. Do you think you can trust him? Well, I know him, and word to the wise? Make sure he trusts you before you trust him."

-

The small sandwiches didn't exactly appetize you at the moment. They were cute and tiny and absolutely delicious, but there was a churn in your stomach that didn't let you down them.

Queen Frigga was going on about how elegant and eloquent you were, about your education, so on and so forth. But your thoughts were so occupied that you could only respond with monosyllables, hums, and chuckles.

Your mom wouldn't be very proud.

"I heard that you and prince Loki have begun cozying up to each other." One of the ladies, whose name you had forgotten, commented taking a sip of her tea.

"Quite a gentleman, if I may say so." Another lady spoke up. "I've had the pleasure to meet him."

"What did you make of him, my dear?" Frigga asked you.

It took all in you to not appear surprised. Just set down your cup and give a measured and safe answer. "Well. He is quite the charmer I must admit, I believe that this union will be of great benefit to both kingdoms. He also seems to prefer when things aren't dull, which I completely agree with."

The ladies giggled at your comment while the queen smirked at you and then proceed to take another sip. "Oh, there comes my son!" Frigga said as the theme of discussion approached the picnic hosted by the monarchs.

Loki approached Odin and Thor who spoke with some other nobles, including Lord Perkins who had been sneaking glares at you ever since the alliance signature.

"Are you not going to see him?" The first lady who had a peach dress asked.

"I find it rather insulting to interrupt, one's fiance when they discuss official matters, Lady Skorjedóttir." Frigga scolded the younger woman with grace.

It was almost like a mother's scolding. Fierce, firm, and yet with a willingness to forgive behind it.

"I must wait until he approaches us, that would be for the best, my lady." You conceded and Frigga nodded in your direction.

"I fear you were discussing me, mother?" You squeaked as you heard Loki suddenly come from behind you.

"Fear me, my bride?"

"Only if you scare your soon-to-be wife like that." You teased, taking up the role of the royal couple.

"We spoke only good things, my son." She laughed at your exchange. "I see that you two are getting along."

"Well, after the Vanir princess came by last fall, there was nowhere to go but up." He chuckled and kissed his mother in the cheek.

"Would you mind if I took my bride on a walk?"

"Not at all, just know that her guard will be close. You scared her whole entourage by taking her like that last night." Frigga sent a knowing glance towards you.

Loki chuckled as he helped you up and took you towards the edge of the woods where Steve could keep an eye on you, but you still had some privacy.

"I am quite impressed." He said once you were out of earshot.

"May I ask why?" You looked ahead, Sigyn's warning playing in your head.

"Well, you have managed to feed the wolves while keeping appearances." He looked thoughtful. "I wonder how long that will last." He smirked.

"Is that a challenge?

"Take it as... a caution sign. The beast is never satisfied here in Asgard. It's the price of frivolities."

"I will keep that in mind."

You walked for a bit more, now just wandering, not really with a destination, just determined to delay what you wanted to say. The fear of saying the wrong thing like acid bile in your throat.

"I must admit something, my prince."

"I'm all ears."

"You have honestly disappointed me."

That stopped him effectively and made him unlink his arms to turn at you with narrowed eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

You smirked, eyebrows raised. "Ah, well. You see, I sort of expected more tricks and deceitfulness from the liesmith of Asgard."

You approached a nearby tree and looked through the leaves up at the warm sun. Slightly taunting him with your uncaring pose and teasing smile.

"And who are you to say that I have not been lying to you, princess?"

"Oh, Prince Loki. I hate to say it, but every word said to me I've taken with a grain of salt. And like with everything I've told you, it's not personal." You approached him to passive-aggressively bump heads with him. "This is the price of survival and politics."

"Is this what survival means? Having tricks up your sleeve?" He said before you felt him slip the blade from the hidden place in your sleeve and point it at your throat.

Just as he did you took one from under your dress and quickly pointed it at his respective throat. A stare-off going on between you with blades at your throats.

"Did you have to make it sound so cheesy?" You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words.

"I just thought it was absolutely ironic, my dear."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"You can't."

"We both hold blades to each other's throats. One slip and either, or both of us could die." You began, "And we have things over the other person's head that we could use against the other."

"How do you know the maiden I told you of is even real?"

"How do you know that the man I spoke of, is?" You countered back. "Besides, how could you prove it? Call a physician, he'll tell you the truth. I haven't been touched by a man in my life.

"However, the cruel, conniving, pathological liar marrying the foreign, proper, and kind young princess, manipulating her? Telling her stories of his forbidden romance to another? Now that may feed the wolves for a long time. And Midgard could also benefit from that, wouldn't you agree?"

He looked livid. Slowly, he lowered the blade and you did the same, having cornered him. "Absolutely disappointed of you, my prince..."

You snatched the blade out of his hand and slid it back to its proper place before strolling back under Steve's watchful eye. And also the eyes of everyone who saw you and Loki venture a little bit more into the forest.

You didn't see Loki that day again. But you hoped this was enough to get him to finally understand that you were a princess worthy of respect and attention. Maybe from now on, he wouldn't mistake your openness with weakness.

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@chxrryycola - @midnightmystic   - @deathkat657

[engagemachine]

Everything is too loud and too dark; the bass thunders so hard she feels as though it throbs inside her like a second heart, pulsing somewhere low in her underbelly.

Taylor can’t remember why she had decided to come, only that Ashley Phillips—who had never spoken to her before this—had stopped her in the cafeteria and handed her a slip of college-ruled paper, something torn from somebody’s notebook in a hurry. An address.

“You should come,” she’d said, friendly and sweet. She had soft hair and pretty, straight teeth—one of the few lucky enough to forgo the necessity of braces. “This Friday, eight o’clock.” Taylor couldn’t think of any reason not to. She’d never been invited to a party before.

But as she wanders aimlessly through the dark, crowded home of some senior named Andrew, she quickly realizes how out of place she is, how much she stands out. Everyone is way older than her. She’s probably the only freshman here. Why did Ashley even invite her?

She combs her way through the living room. Her throat clogs with cigarette smoke and sweat and something girlish and cloying, like strawberry peach perfume, that cheap kind that comes in the plastic spray bottles. She wonders if maybe this is all some elaborate joke. Maybe they just wanted to see if she was dumb enough to even bother showing up. Maybe this is a prank and she’s too stupid to realize she’s the punchline.

She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and squeezes between throngs of junior and seniors, feeling out of place and small as everyone laughs and chugs back red Solo cups. She rubs her slick hands against the thighs of her jeans, jeans that don’t fit like the other girls’ do. She’d had to punch an extra hole in her belt just to hold them up. But she’d borrowed a shirt from Meredith’s dresser, something floral with puff sleeves, little buttons up the front. Her boobs don’t fill it out like Meredith’s do, but she supposes it doesn’t matter anyway; she hasn’t taken off her windbreaker yet.

She works her way into the kitchen where there’s chips and cans of beer sprawled on sand-colored countertops, like windblown trash scattered on the beach. There’s a happy, little man in an oversized chef’s hat on the countertop next to the toaster oven, holding an empty cardboard roll of paper towels in his outstretched hands. In big fancy script on the breadbox, Let’s Eat!, and a red and white striped dish towel hanging over the handle for the oven door. The kitchen screams of a woman’s touch—Andrew’s mom—and Taylor wonders suddenly how her own mother might have decorated, if their kitchen would’ve had a theme like this one. Wonders what it would have felt like to grow up with a pantry stocked full of food, all the time, or the privilege of satisfying those sweet-sleepy after-midnight cravings, slinking into the kitchen to spoon out some ice-cream, or a late-night bowl of cereal, something with a sugary crunch.  

The dining room table has been shoved against the wall to accommodate the crowd gathered around some kid doing a keg-stand, spurred by the raucous shouts of encouragement from his friends. He isn’t wearing a shirt. She thought that was only something people did in movies. She edges herself through the sliding glass doors and spills out onto the patio, where a few others have congregated as well. It’s quieter out here. Peaceful. There’s a group gathered around a small bonfire in the grass near the shed, lounging in plastic fold out chairs, like the ones you’d take camping, and others linger on the patio, smoking and drinking. There’s a couple near the edge of the patio, some guy with his tongue down Amelia Baker’s throat, his hands in the back pockets of her jeans. Taylor quickly looks away, embarrassed.

The air is chilly and cold, and she welcomes its sharp bite. The sky stretches out wide and black above her, blinking and alive with stars. She takes a moment to wonder at it, exhaling slowly, watching as her breath is carried away, into the night. She remembers in second grade in science class when she’d made her own starry night, a giant black piece of construction paper that she’d poked little tiny holes into with the tip of her pen, hundreds of them, and then holding the paper up to the ceiling, watching all the holes fill with artificial light.  

“Hey, pretty girl, glad you could make it.”

Taylor spins around and looks up at Ryan Henderson, a senior she’s passed in the halls at school a couple of times. She thinks he runs track and might have a couple of classes with Nathan.

“Hi,” she says, shyly. He’s never talked to her before. She didn’t even know he knew she existed. And he just called her pretty.  

“Seen you around at school. Taylor, right?”

She nods twice, bites her lower lip as she watches him approach the railing. He leans his side against it, casual and easy, and looks at her. He smells like spearmint gum and Axe body spray.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to show.” When she pushes her brows together in confusion, her lips parting in some unspoken question, he fills in the gaps. “I told Ashley to invite you. Thought you’d be more likely to come if she asked.”

Taylor swallows. Ryan wanted her to come? She flushes under his gaze, averts her eyes to the red, tripod grill in the corner of the patio, like she meant to look there.

Ryan laughs a little, and she is drawn back to him as he fishes a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of his jeans. He’s cute—tall—with wavy brown hair and pretty blue eyes. She knows a lot of girls who have crushes on him. He’s wearing a pine green sweatshirt—the three buttons at the top undone—that looks cozy and soft. She bets it smells like him.

He secures the cigarette between pink, bow-shaped lips and cups his hand around the opposite end as he lights it. It glows orange for a moment as he inhales, and then all the smoke is billowing out, swirling into the night, and there’s something strangely hypnotic about it, the rise and fall of his chest, the loose, easy way he holds the cigarette, and the glimmer in his eyes as he looks at her. He sees her eyeing his cigarette and holds it out to her after taking another drag.

“You want to try?”

“Oh, no.” Taylor shakes her head. She licks her lips, dry all the sudden. “Evelyn will kill me if I come home smelling like smoke….”

Ryan cocks his head. “Evelyn?”

“My foster mom,” she explains, regretting the words as soon as they leave her mouth. Stupid. She should have just said “my mom”, now he’ll think she’s some loser foster kid without real parents.

“Right.” Ryan exhales again, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes sweep over her, up, down, and then up again. He takes one last drag of his cigarette, and then crushes it on the railing. Taylor frowns at this, because he just lit it. He flicks it away, so that it lands somewhere in the dark sea of grass.

“You want something to drink?” he asks.

“Oh, I—”

“Come on, I’ll get you something.” He straightens and clambers down the porch steps, and Taylor hesitates only briefly before following after him.

He leads her to the group lounging around a makeshift fire pit, which is little more than a ring of misshapen rocks. One of the boys is feeding small branches into the fire to keep it going, sitting on the edge of his chair, prodding at the fire with a stick. A girl in a miniskirt and leather jacket is curled up in the lap of who Taylor assumes is her boyfriend, and her legs look smooth and tan in the glow from the fire. Taylor looks around at the rest of them, a hodgepodge of teenage boys and a few other girls. She recognizes only some of them.

Ryan introduces her to them and then tells her everyone’s names even though she won’t remember them. He explains that some of them are from Ridgepoint, in Old Town. She gives them all a little wave which makes one of the boys snort and shoot Ryan a look that Taylor doesn’t know how to interpret. She folds her arms behind her back and doesn’t know what to do.

Ryan gestures for one of the guys to move so Taylor can have his chair. She mumbles her thanks as she takes his proffered seat, and Ryan plops beside her chair onto the hard ground, surrounded by dead clumps of grass. He’s almost the same height as her even though he’s on the ground and she’s in the chair.

The fire is warm and the smoke smells good, and she tries to allow herself to relax a little and not worry her bottom lip so much, even if there’s something comforting about laving her tongue over the indents her teeth have left on her lower lip.  

“Let’s get you something to drink,” Ryan says conspiratorially, leaning in, looking up into her eyes in a way that makes Taylor’s cheeks turn hot. One of the guys tosses him a white can which Ryan catches with one hand. The top pops open with a wet hiss. Taylor watches the gold lettering on the side glimmer in the firelight, like something forbidden, something dangerous.

“You ever had beer before?” he asks, and she shakes her head. “Ah, an alcohol virgin,” he says, knowingly, just a little too loudly for her comfort. Some of them chuckle, and Taylor sinks into her chair in a way she hopes isn’t obvious, blushing so hard, trying to ignore the prickle of unease slithering up her spine. She hates the way he said virgin, like her lack of foray into alcohol isn’t the only thing virgin about her.  

“Here.” He hands the can to her, and Taylor holds it with as few fingers as possible, as if it’s something that suddenly might grow fangs and sink razor sharp teeth into her. “Come on, honey, take a little sip,” he says, softly, so only she can hear.

She looks at him, his eyes dark in the firelight, and brings the can to her lips, tilting her head back to swallow. She grimaces as it slides down her throat, as the taste settles in her mouth, bitterness bleeding all over her tongue.

“Eugh,” she gags. It tastes nasty. She spits out her tongue and grimaces. “I don’t like that.” She holds the can out to him, but he pushes it back into her lap.

“The first taste is always kind of gross,” he says. “I have something that might make it go down a little easier.”

She frowns at him. “What is it?” Ryan reaches into his jacket and retrieves two little white pills, nestled in the palm of his hand. She cocks her head. “What are those?”

“They make everything feel better.” He reaches for her free hand and pushes them into her palm, and she instinctively closes her fingers over them so they don’t fall on the ground.

“I—I don’t know if I should,” she says, hesitant, meeting his gaze.

“I take them all the time. They’re really good.”

The fire crackles and pops, sparks shooting up into the dark expanse of open sky as one of the boys tosses a fresh log onto the fire. There’s the dimming of the flames as the existing fire crumbles beneath the new added weight, and then the burgeoning brightness as the flames lap at the wood, licking it up faster and faster, as if excited by the taste.

“How will they make the beer taste better?” she asks.

Ryan huffs, shifting closer to her. He seems a little agitated, having to explain. “They just do. They make everything taste good and everything else just feels… light.” Taylor still looks unconvinced, so he goes on. “It’ll help you loosen up a little. Make you happy.” He looks down at the ground for a moment, and she catches him biting his tongue. He fixes her with a smile when he looks back up. “I bet you’re real cute when you smile.”

Taylor exhales, caught in the ocean of his eyes. The moment feels hypercharged and heady, like it’s just the two of them here and no one else. She wants to know what it’s like to feel light, what it might be like to breathe with four sets of lungs instead of two, how it might feel to suddenly grow wings, the foreign sensation of needing to anchor herself to the ground before she floats up and away. The fantasy of flight.

She takes both of them at once, and because she can’t dry swallow, chases them down with a large gulp of beer.

She makes a face. “It still doesn’t taste good.”

Ryan laughs. Taylor likes the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he does. “They don’t work instantly. Give it some time.”

So she does, or maybe she doesn’t at all. The night becomes an intangible thing, something distant and kind of faraway, like being in a dream, but knowing that you’re in one. Ryan was right—she does feel light, like cotton candy. She remembers laughing along with everyone about—about something, it doesn’t seem to  matter now—only that everyone is smiling, and she is smiling too, and it’s nice, and the world takes on a warm, honeyed glaze. The edges of her vision are sticky sweet. It’s difficult to focus her gaze on any one thing for more than a few seconds. There’s the sagging pile of wood stacked against the side of the shed, the warm, dying frenzy of sparks from the fire, and when she tilts her head back to laugh, the starlight sky, a black, endless canopy. Ryan hands her more beer, and she drinks it. The letters on the side of the can swirl into golden spirals she can’t read. She’s lost track of how many she’s had. And she hardly notices the taste, after a while; she kind of likes the way it makes the back of her throat tingle, how hot it makes her belly feel.  

After a while, some of the group starts to thin out, people leaving in pairs of two. There’s only a couple of guys left now. She feels Ryan playing with her shoelaces, where he kneels at her feet. He looks up at her intently, and Taylor’s too dizzy to really meet his gaze head on.

“How are you feeling?”

She starts to reply but is interrupted by a hiccup. She giggles. “Really good.” Is she slurring? It’s hard to tell. She frowns a little and tries again. “Really—really good.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says. He licks his lips. “I thought you might.”

She thinks he says something about going inside, that it’s cold, and she doesn’t resist when he pulls her up from her chair. His arm around her back feels good—big and warm. She nuzzles into his sweatshirt, hears the sliding glass door open. He smells like spearmint gum. At some point, there’s stairs, but she doesn’t remember walking up them. Then, something soft beneath her, a fluffy cloud, or maybe a bed.

Everything is dark and warm. The bass is still thumping from downstairs, the walls vibrating from it, but she doesn’t mind it as much as before. Ryan slides up the bed alongside of her, and she feels his hands on her as he unzips her jacket, pulling her arms out of the sleeves. They flop lifelessly back onto the bed when he lets them go—that makes her giggle again.

“I feel like—a doll,” she slurs. Something in her hindbrain tells her this should be concerning, her lack of control over her own body mechanics, but she ignores it. Ryan is so big and warm next to her. She feels like taking a nap.

Hands on her again, this time fumbling with her belt, and then unbuttoning her jeans. She tries to sit up.

“Hey, what are—what are you doing?” Hard to sit up, her brain sloshing around inside her skull, too heavy to hold up for some reason.

“Just wanna touch you a little,” Ryan says, breathy, “Lay back. It’ll feel good.”

Taylor tries to do what he says, but she gasps when he slips his hand inside her jeans, cupping her through her underwear. She squirms beneath his touch, not sure if she likes it or not.

“Sh, sh, just relax,” he says. She feels one of his fingers probing down there, and she whimpers and arches away. Only Nathan’s ever touched her there.

“St—stop,” she says. Now she can hear her own voice, all shaky and slurry. “I don’t wanna… do that.” Why is it so hard to talk?

Ryan withdraws his hand and shifts so he’s straddling her, his weight settling over her hips. The pressure of him sets off a flicker of anxiety, a spark that catches, and for a moment it’s Nathan on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with just his weight, his hands all over her, breath on her nape, shoving her face first into the mattress, suffocating, mothballs and dust in her nostrils, his scratchy jeans on the backs of her thighs, sheets soaked with drool, the embarrassed shiver of her bedsprings, her mouth open in a silent cry—but then his lips and tongue on her neck, warm and wet, and Nathan’s never done that to her. She sighs a little without really meaning to, turns her face into the bedspread to give Ryan a broader canvas. It kind of feels like being licked by a dog or something. Kind of tickles. She giggles a little and squeezes her eyes shut, where Christmas-colored phosphenes fizzle behind her lids.

“So fucking hot.”  

She doesn’t say anything, just lets him suck more bruises into her neck. No one’s ever kissed her like this before. She doesn’t know if she likes it or not. She feels his teeth skirt over her pulse and she jumps, hands blindly reaching for his shirt, balling the fabric into her fists. She feels him laugh, a puff of hot breath against her jaw.

She’s seen this in movies. Boys kissing girls. Sex. The way two bodies move together, easy and fluid, like they’d both done it a million times, even if it was only the first. But nothing about this feels easy, and all her sensations feel far away, like he’s touching her underwater. Her reactions are slowed—delayed—her mind and body operating at different speeds.  

Ryan shifts, lifting himself off her to kneel on either side of her thighs. He shucks her jeans down to her knees, and this time, when his hand slithers inside her underwear, something primal inside her claws to the surface, and she finds the strength to slap his arm away.

“What the hell,” he says.

“I—I don’t—want that,” she says again, trying to sit up. The room spins—there are three Ryans, and then two—and she puts a hand to her forehead as if to ease the pulsing there.

“What, you can put out for your big brother, but not for me?”

Taylor instantly recoils from him.

How does he—?

The repugnance in his voice wounds her, and she shrinks away, feebly pushing herself further up the bed. She feels so weak.

“Yeah, I know about that,” he sneers, “the whole fucking—”

Suddenly, the door bangs open, startling them both. Two people stumble in, a girl and a boy, limbs wrapped around each other, mouths occupied. The girl breaks away to giggle into the boy’s neck, and the boy steers them towards the bed.

Then, a sudden expletive of surprise at finding the room already occupied—“Oh, shit,”—and a half mumbled apology from the boy.

Ryan reaches above Taylor’s head and violently yanks a pillow out from underneath her, sending it careening towards the boy’s head.

“You fucking douchebag, do you knock?”

“Sorry, dude, didn’t realize anyone was in here....”

Taylor is already scrambling off the bed, horrified, sliding her jeans up past her thighs. Her fingers tremble over the button, and then the zipper.

“Jesus fuck,” the guys says suddenly, looking at Taylor, as if only just now seeing her for the first time. He looks at Ryan. “Dude, how old is she? Like, twelve?”

Ryan’s face flames, his nostrils flaring, but Taylor doesn’t notice. She doesn’t have time to do her belt, or to grab her jacket from where Ryan had pushed it to the floor. She stumbles out of the room, past the couple in the doorway, ignoring Ryan’s shouts. She almost falls down the stairwell, but somehow she makes it down in one piece, and then she is throwing open the front door, staggering down the wooden porch steps, the sidewalk. She breaks into a sprint, unsure of her destination, just needing to escape. Get away.

She doesn’t realize she is crying until she feels the bite of the cold wind on her wet cheeks. She hears her belt clink where it dangles around her thighs as she slows to a jog. She bends over on the sidewalk and puts her hands on her knees, panting for breath, in some residential area she doesn’t recognize, all the houses dimmed, stiff looking, the porch lights off. She wonders what time it is.

Her ears and throat burn from the cold. When she swallows, her saliva tastes coppery. She sniffles and tries to gather her bearings as she wanders along the sidewalk for a while, not sure what to do, or where to go. Her head is throbbing, and everything still feels dim and kind of faraway, like she is partway underwater or something.

It’s freezing without her jacket, and her bus pass was in the pocket—not that she could locate the nearest bus stop now. She wraps her arms around herself and keeps her head down to block out the cold, curling in on herself.

Behind her, a sudden beam of light. She turns to face the blinding flash of headlights head-on in the dark, bringing a hand up to her eyes to shield some of the light. A van pulls up alongside of her. Taylor’s heart lurches in her chest but she can’t run away. The van stalls, and she hears a door opening, and then a man walking around the front of the vehicle, looking at her.

“Jesus, kid. You’re just asking for it everywhere you go, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t recognize him at first, but after a long moment she heaves a sigh of relief at the familiar face. She knows he works for Mr. J. She’s seen him outside the hangar before.

He slides open the back door. “Get in.”

Taylor hesitates, not sure if she can trust him.

“Come on,” he says again, trying to soften some, but it’s only marginal. “He wants to see you.”

She crawls into the back of the van. When the door slides closed, she is submerged in cool darkness. The seats have been gutted, so she lies down on the floor and curls into a ball. The van rolls along. The streets are soft, empty. She stares for a long time out the two back windows, the tender, golden blur of the city at night, oranges and yellows interspersed by patches of darkness. She closes her eyes, feels the golden streetlamps curling over the back of her lids, and she pretends she is underwater, that the flickering light is the warmth of the sun breaking through the ocean’s surface.

It’s hard to keep her eyes open. She lets the vibrations of the van lull her to sleep.

She wakes to the sound of voices. At first, she doesn’t remember where she is, and she strains to listen, even as her head throbs when she tries to lift it from the floor.

“—drunk. She was wandering for a while.”

“Hm.”    

“Took something, too. Think it was Ativan. She’s pretty out of it—”

The voices draw closer, and then the door swings open, and it jars her as it slides all the way back, the loud bang it makes as it hits the bumper.

She looks up at the two figures through a drowsy haze. Her eyes widen.

“Mr. J,” she slurs, “I feel—feel funny.”

She tries to crawl out of the van, and somehow ends up on her hands and knees on the cold ground. She feels bile creeping up her throat, but she chases it back down with a shuddery exhale. Her palms and knees burn from the scrape of hard concrete.

She’s too weak to stand. She tries to lift her head, but the world caves in on itself. She rolls onto her side. It’s so dark outside. She stares at Mr. J’s approaching shoes instead.

His hands slide under her back and his other beneath her legs, picking her up, suddenly, like she’s weightless. She’s too weak to wrap her arms around his neck, and they hang limp, one pressed between her side and his abdomen, the other dangling uselessly.

“Anything else?” she hears.

“No,” Mr. J says. “Nothing else.”                                                    

He carries her into the hangar. She is set down on something soft. The orange couch, she thinks. She nearly topples over, but she manages to right herself at the last second, giggling a little. Mr. J swims in front of her eyes, and she smiles at him, as if seeing him for the first time. She scoots to the edge of the couch and leans forward to sloppily throw her arms around his neck, where he’s crouched in front of her.  

“Mr. J!” she slurs. “I’m so, so—hiccup—happy to see you.”

She feels him stiffen, but he does not push her away. “You’re drunk.”

“Beer is gross!” she tells him, emphatic all of the sudden. She makes a “yuck” sound, and then she digs her fingers into the collar of his jacket a little, nuzzles herself right up into the crook of his neck, and she feels it when he swallows, the way his throat bobs. “I don’t like it,” she says. She lays her head down on his shoulder and sighs, but it comes out as a hiccup instead. She frowns into his shoulder, very serious, now. Thinking. “I don’t like parties.”

Mr. J hums. She feels him rest his forearms on the edge of the couch to steady himself, on either side of her thighs. She huffs into his neck. “I’m so sleepy.” As if only just now aware of this opportunity, she leans forward suddenly and blows a raspberry into his neck, where the side of his throat is just barely exposed behind the collar of his shirt.

He grunts and shoves her away. Stands. She lands on her side on the couch and giggles, hair tousled around her like a halo, looking up at him, her eyes glossy and bright.  

“Look at you,” he says after a moment, when her laughter has dissolved. “Aaalways getting yourself into trouble.” He tsks, his voice heavy, laden with disappointment. “What am I going to do with you?”

She sits up suddenly, worried. Her vision swims. “Are you mad at me?” There is the prickle of tears in her eyes. She swallows something bulbous that’s formed in her throat, a fist of panic. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Mr. J only stares at her, and she doesn’t stop him when he lays a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her to lie back down on the couch as he hovers over her. Three fingers on her jaw then, pushing it to the side, so her cheek is pressed against the cushions, her neck exposed to him. It’s all pale, thin skin. The blue whisper of a vulnerable, pulsing artery, all that stunning canvas of possibility. It awakens an old hunger in him—killing her. His original plan.

Funny, how far they’ve come since then.

“Who did that to you?”

He is tracing over the red-purple blotch on her neck, this indefinite shape. She instinctively reaches up to touch the skin too, and their fingers tangle on kiss-bruised skin. Her pulse jumps under their fingertips where they can both feel it.

“Ryan wanted to kiss me… but I didn’t want him to.”

“No?”

“I’ve never been kissed before,” she says, studying the frayed threads of the couch with the sort of manic concentration that only someone truly inebriated could possess. “I bet you kiss girls all the time!” she exclaims.

She hears him snort. “It just so happens I am very picky,” he deadpans.  

“Oh,” Taylor says. She is staring up at the ceiling now, blinking. Her eyelids feel so heavy. “I’m picky too. I hate broccoli.”

“Mhm.”

“Can you sit down?” Taylor squints up at him, as if looking up at him from a telescope. “You’re making me dizzy.”

He humors her and does what she asks, mostly because she won’t remember any of this in the morning. He settles himself on the opposite end of the couch, and Taylor immediately sits up and scoots towards him. She has no qualms about making herself comfortable, laying her head down in his lap. Snuggling close. She clumsily jams an elbow into his ribs on accident but doesn’t seem to notice. She is as happy as a clam.

“I wish we could be like this all the time.”

He almost doesn’t hear her, how quietly she says it, the way the words are tethered to the back of a yawn. He takes it upon himself to touch a strand of her hair, and then several, slowly combing through it with his bare hands. It feels nice. Soft. Something about it feels stupidly indulgent.

“Mr. J?” she yawns. She takes his free arm and drapes it over her waist to use as a blanket. Her eyes are closed, the dark fan of her lashes pressed against her cheeks. “Do you love me?”

He hasn’t stopped looking at her from the moment she laid herself in his lap. Even after all this time, he is still fascinated by her unwavering trust in him, how freely she gives herself to him. The hand on her waist curls a little tighter.

“No,” he murmurs. He runs his fingers through her hair, carefully scrapes the smaller strands behind her ear, over and over again. “I don’t love you.” She yawns, a soft sound, and curls her legs closer to her chest for warmth. If his words have any effect on her, she does not let on. Her cheek is warm on his thigh. Her breathing evens out, the steady rise and fall of her chest. He curls a strand of her hair around his finger.

“I don’t love you at all.”

A/N: This was sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting, sugar-coated fluff. Every single bit of it. I’m sorry. I had to.  

[eliz1369]

HijiChi Week Day 3 - A Problem of Poetic Proportions

The lazy heat of the afternoon filled the garden as Souji found the perfect spot to lay down under one of the trees. Just enough sunlight peaked its way through the leaves to be pleasantly warm, instead of boiling hot. It would have been the perfect place to take a nap, but he had other plans.

Laying back, he pulled a small book out of his sleeve and turned it over in his hands as he grinned.

Hijikata had done a much better job hiding his haiku collection this time and he’d had to waste three whole distractions before he’d finally found it hidden in a stack of expense reports.

Now with Hijikata off chastising the Baka trio for stealing his brushes to paint Sano’s stomach the previous night—and subsequently breaking them in their drunken stupor—Souji finally had some Hijikata-free time in which he could pursue the Oni no Fukucho’s latest additions.

Flipping to where he had left off last time he’d had the book, Souji was surprised to find only one new haiku.

A beautiful flower

To be admired, but never held

Accusations fly

He frowned at the words. By no means was he any kind of expert, but this seemed bad even for Hijikata. It started off fine, but the accusations part seem both oddly specific and completely out of the blue.

He sat up as he read it over again. Flowers weren’t an unusual theme for Hijikata, his absurd plum blossom one was just the tip of the iceberg, but something about this felt off to Souji.

What had happened in the past few weeks that would cause Hijikata to write this?

Normally he never bothered to figure out why Hijikata wrote his haiku, because normally they were either obvious enough to tell exactly what he was getting at, or so vague as to be indecipherable… and this was frustratingly neither.

“Okita-san?”

He looked up to find Chizuru standing on the engawa. She gestured to the small tray in her hands as she asked, “Would you like some peach slices? I was going to take them to Hijikata-san, but um…”

She trailed off and Souji knew she was trying to find a delicate way to say “scaring the living daylights out of three grown men” (or at the very least Heisuke).

He let a razor edge creep into his smile as he snicker and said, “You mean threatening life and limb of a certain trio? Don’t worry, they’ll probably only lose a finger or two, maybe a toe.”

“Okita-san! That isn’t funny.”

She frowned at him with the odd censure she sometimes got, like she wasn’t afraid of him at all. Despite that, she smiled as she sat down and placed the tray next to her, clearly expecting him to join her.

Not that he would ever say no to a sweet treat. Chizuru had a knack for only picking the sweetest fruit. Unlike Shinpachi, who somehow managed to always come back with fruit so green it was completely inedible.

Tucking Hijikata’s book back into his sleeve, he got up.

Besides, maybe she would know what Hijikata was getting at with his little poem. The plum blossom incident was largely due to her after all. [1]

“Ne, Chizuru-chan,” he said as he sat next to the tray and picked up a slice of the sticky fruit. “I’ve got something I don’t understand. Think you could figure it out for me?”

She blinked in surprise at the question, but nodded. “Um, I can certainly try. What is it?”

He recited the haiku and waited, watching for the slightest flicker in her expression as she thought it over.

“Well… Flowers do bruise when you touch them, and they last longest when you leave them on the stem…” She frowned as she chewed on her lip. “That brings up thoughts of the shortness of life… Or maybe something is out of reach?”

Souji stole another piece of fruit as Chizuru nodded to herself, really getting into her analysis. It was amusing how the normally quiet girl could really ramble when it came to poetry.

“The flower might represent something the author finds beautiful but can’t bring themselves to touch. And maybe the accusations are because touching or being near that thing is forbidden or would harm it, so the haiku could capture the conflicting desire of both loving and fearing for something or someone-”

“Or maybe it means that theft of private property is wrong.”

Chizuru jumped and let out a squeak at the all too familiar voice behind them.

Souji lazily took another bite of peach as he looked up at a thunderous Hijikata and said innocently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Hijikata-san.”

“Yes you damn well do! Give my back my book!”

Chizuru glanced nervously between them, but Souji wasn’t about to admit to anything. Hijikata didn’t know the book was in his sleeve. All Hijikata would know was that he had been reciting his most recent work.

Deciding to try and learn a bit more, Souji said, “What did you mean by accusations, Hijikata-san? Is there a flower out of your reach?”

Hijikata’s face remained impassive except for a slight twitch at his temple and the very briefest flicker of his eyes toward Chizuru.

Oh, so it had something to do with her, did it? Something in the past few weeks had caused Hijikata to write a haiku about Chizuru…

All at once everything clicked into place and Souji let a devilish smile creep across his face. Any number of snarky comments were on the tip of his tongue, but he kept silent. This was too good to risk spoiling.

“Yukimura,” Hijikata’s voice was slightly strained as he broke Souji’s gaze gestured sharply down the hall he had come from. “I believe Gen could use some help with lunch. Heisuke is unable to assist him at the moment.”

Chizuru nodded and scurried away, leaving the tray of fruit behind and clearly eager to escape the tense atmosphere.

Once she was out of earshot, Souji said tauntingly, “Hmm, Hijikata-san wasn’t touching a flower he shouldn’t, was he?”

“Not another word, Souji, or I swear I will cut your fucking tongue out.”

The telltale twitch was back, so Souji didn’t say anything about the faint blush that accompanied it. Instead he just smirked as Hijikata turned away and stormed back down the hallway.

Only once the Demon was gone, did he allow himself a quiet laugh. It seems the feared Oni no Fukucho was developing a soft spot for a certain little geisha. And if the last line of the poem was anything to go by, they must have made quite a scene leaving Shimabara.

He picked up the last piece of peach and popped it into his mouth before getting up and walking over to the spot he had vacated upon Chizuru’s arrival. There was just enough time to sneak in a quick nap in the sun before lunch.

As he settled back onto the soft grass, Souji promised himself that one of these days, he was going to wheedle out of everyone exactly what had happened the night Chizuru-chan went undercover.

[1] Ugh... Like most things I go looking for, of course I can’t find it now. However, I distinctly remember reading a short story (possibly drama cd?) where Souji tricks Chizuru into saying what she thinks of Hijikata’s plum blossom poem and Chizuru hilariously astounds them all (especially Hijikata) by actually making some kind of metaphorical sense out of it.

[burstingchrysanthemums]

The Daily Task of Preventing My Disciple from Turning to the Dark Side Chapter 1

At the Lofty Cloud Sect Mountain’s entrance, there are hundreds of young people waiting for the sect's trial.

A large spell array has been opened. The wind is like a mournful wolf's howl. In this gloomy weather people feel depressed. Looking up, the mountain road twists and turns, like a coiling snake

Lofty Cloud Sect is a famous righteous sect that opens its door every ten years. The youths on the scene are eager to try joining the sect. As long as they can pass the trial, they can be reborn and set foot on the path to immortality.

Around the square are more than a dozen green stone pillars. Each stone is said to have the power to exorcise evil spirits and has stood erect for several thousand years and the wind and rain have not left any traces of wear on them.

At that moment, a person floated down from the highest pillar.

That person looked around 20 years old, slender or even emaciated, the beautiful face seemed carefully carved and flawless. He is wearing a fine wide-sleeved white robe decorated with golden bamboo leaves at the edges. His long hair, crowned with gold and jade, is fluttering in the wind, giving him an ethereal and reserved air.

His appearance stuns the disciples responsible for the trial.

"Greetings to Shishu (Grand Uncle Teacher/Grand Martial Uncle)." A few young monks dressed in three generations of disciple costumes immediately bowed and trembled.

Lofty Cloud Sect has six palaces, twelve halls, thirty-six peaks, seventy-two caves, the remaining small places are numerous, but the six palaces, including the head of the Chongyang Palace, are the most important.

Mu Chen is the head of the fifth house -  Yanyang (Sunshine) Palace.

Though Mu Chen started (his training?) late, he ranked fifth. At 16 years old he built his Foundation, a once-in-a-hundred genius whom the disciples admire.

Unfortunately, Mu Chen's temper is cold, he is never in any place where many people appear, and does not like people. He has been a deeply mysterious existence.

So when that person suddenly appeared at the trial, how can others not be shocked?

Everyone has forgotten the trial now, all eyes are on Mu Chen but they only dare to stare at his clothes. No one dares to meet his eyes in case it brings them disaster.

Mu Chen does not care about the surrounding eyes, floating from one pillar to another, his steps natural and skilled, his manner still cold, looking down at the people with slightly narrowed phoenix eyes.

He's looking for someone. To be exact, he is looking for a child but he doesn't know how old the child is.

Looking at each child's face one by one, Mu Chen's eyes finally fell on a black-clothed child.Compared to other children who were mostly more than 10 years of age, this child is obviously a lot smaller, around five or six years old.

The child is very thin, with tender facial features that are quite handsome.

As if he sensed that someone was looking at him, the child opened his eyes to look into Mu Chen's exquisite peach eyes. The child's own eyes were dark as ink, deep and distant and under the left one is a bright and eye-catching tear-shaped red beauty mark (mole).

Mu Chen suddenly flew down to the side of the child, looking down at his face. Chen's indifferent eyes finally have a trace of complex and difficult to distinguish emotions.

"What is your name?" Like his temperament, his voice is cold. This sentence caught the attention of the dazed crowd and the restless children.

"Gu Yunjue." The child revealed a well-behaved smile, looking shyly at Mu Chen. In his eyes, Mu Chen is reflected and no other person can enter.

Mu Chen nodded and, to the amazement of everyone present, picked up Gu Yunjue in his arms, too lazy to say another word, and left.

"Grand Martial Uncle!" One of the disciples tried to stop Mu Chen. The child called Gu Yunjue is only six years old and he has not been tested.

Unfortunately for the disciple, the white sleeves flashed in front of the eyes, everyone smelled only an elegant medicine incense, and they had already disappear.

Hidden in the distant clouds, two old men looked at this scene.

One of them whispered: "That young one has just stepped into the Demigod stage. His fine tender skin looks delicious."

The cultivator's levels are divided into the following realms:

(TN: Literal names)

筑基 Qi Refining Period 金丹 Core Formation Period 元婴 Nascent Soul Period 化神 Demigod Period 合体 Synthesis Period 大乘 Mahayana/Path to Godhood Period 渡劫 Ascension Period

(TN: My suggested names)

Qi Condensation Stage Foundation Establishment Stage Core Formation Stage Nascent Soul Stage Demigod Stage Synthesis Stage Immortalization Stage Ascension Stage

The Qi Condensation Stage is divided into nine levels while the other periods are divided into early, medium, and late.

Mu Chen has been cultivating for only a hundred years. Even if the cultivation has advanced into the Demigod stage, in the eyes of other cultivators, he is indeed a little guy.

Another person sneered: "I advise you not to make trouble, if the master notices, he will make you into a blood slave or chop you up to feed the demonic beasts."

The former heard his words and trembled, no longer daring to say anything. The two people looked at the direction in which Mu Chen left.In the distance, a small hand flashed at them, and the two understood. They changed their direction and hid themselves.

-----

Holding Gu Yunjue, Mu Chen's posture was somewhat awkward. Before his rebirth he only had Gu Yunjue as his disciple and back then Gu Yunjue was a teenager. In short, he did not know the child's appearance. If not for the eye-catching beauty mark at the corner of Gu Yunjue's eyes, it would have taken a lot of effort to find him

In the previous life, Mu Chen had obtained the sect master's recommendation and accepted Gu Yunjue as a personal succeeding disciple. He didn't expect that 50 years later, the other party would take advantage of when he entered seclusion to mount a sneak attack in the forbidden area and shatter the Immortal and Demon Realms' Sealing Rock. The disturbance put the Immortal Realm's people in a terrible situation. He was originally a hard to come by genius cultivator of the Immortal Realm, but he had changed and become the Demon Realm's Demon Lord. Mu Chen himself was also dealt with by the Immortal Realm's people and sealed within the Soul Suppression Pagoda. He had originally believed that it was because he had been implicated by Gu Yunjue. He hadn't thought that it was actually all a conspiracy.

(TN: Gibberish) (而最后来救他的人, 竟是这个叛出师门的孽徒。) And the last man to save him was the sinner who was the traitor.

Unfortunately, Mu Chen had long been poisoned by fire, imprisoned in the Soul Suppression Pagoda his spiritual power was suppressed, and he became unstable. Gu Yunjue broke into the tower, to save him tried to transfer all of his power to Mu Chen but in the end Mu Chen suffered a good friend's sneak attack. (TN: Confusing, not sure of accuracy)

Eventually, he did not escape the fate of death.

Mu Chen reborn has been unable to understand, Gu Yunjue did not live long enough. Why did Gu Yunjue have to risk his life to save him? What was Gu Yunjue's fate after his death? Cultivation lost, Gu Yunjue fell into the hands of hypocrites, presumably his fate was miserable.

When Mu Chen was reborn, he suddenly had an idea, "If I keep Gu Yunjue at my side and carefully raise him with love, will not my words and deeds put an end to his temptation and reverse the fate of two people?"

Gu Yunjue broke into the soul tower, called him Shizun, and even used all his power to save him, until at last they both died.

Looking at Gu Yunjue, Mu Chen's mood is complex. The child is thin, wearing worn-out old clothes, the little boy's life seems to have been bitter so far.

The small body in his arms was stiff, clutching his hair, silent. Mu Chen thought that the child is too nervous but neither is he crying and or making trouble. Thinking this, Mu Chen clumsily patted Gu Yunjue's back, trying to make his tone comforting and not too stiff: "Do not be afraid, I am ... the Sect Master’s Martial Uncle."

Obviously this sentence is very convincing, because of the reaction of the disciples when Mu Chen appeared.

Gu Yunjue nodded his head like a well-behaved child, smiled, and gradually relaxed.

Mu Chen is a little relieved. If the child were to start crying, he really does not know how to coax him to stop.

Mu Chen, holding Gu Yunjue in his arms all the way to the door of the room where new disciples were registered said: "I want to accept you as my personal succeeding disciple."

He wanted to explain the difference between inner disciples and ordinary disciples but he did not expect that the child would suddenly held out his hand holding his face, and seriously ask: "Does becoming your disciple mean that first you take care of me, then when I grow up, I take care of you?"

Mu Chen hesitated for a long time then nodded his head, yes you can say so.

The master was responsible for raising his disciple using all his resources, in the best environment, with the most care in words and deeds, personally taking care to urge him to not follow a crooked path. When the disciple grew up he must respect the teacher, never disobedient, and "teacher for one day, father for ever."

Gu Yunjue smiled, satisfied. "Then we should make a vow, heaven will witness."

Mu Chen nodded his head, surprised. So even small children know that to immortal cultivators a heavenly vow has fatal constraints. Having agreed to it, is he was smart, or cunning?

Table of Contents                Next Chapter

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Translator’s Notes: This was translated using machine translation that I edited. I do not guarantee that it is accurate.

I would like to thank Snowtime of Snowycodex who let me use her translation as a reference. I published this chapter, then Snowtime published hers a few days later. Thanks a bunch! If you like BL Chinese novels then I recommend Snowycodex’s The Path of the Cannon Fodder’s Counterattack. It’s super good.

[oldphandomgamesblog]

Team Peach- Fandoms Collide

“Hey Phil! Phil, wait up!” called Dan. He raced across the hall to Phil and breathlessly held up a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet.

“Brilliant, innit?” “What?” asked Phil, who hadn’t bothered to read that morning’s prophet. “Read it!” said Dan exasperatedly. Phil took the newspaper clipping and read:

“‘I swear I saw it, just at the end of my street.’ says Willie Winkons, 8, Westshire. ‘It started towards me, so I yelled, and Daddy came out and it just disappeared!’ This young boy, and a number of other distressed civilians, claim to have spotted a large, fire breathing, terrifying scaly bird with claws like hooves. The Ministry of Magic has aurors all over Britain on the lookout, but they have yet to report anything. Cont. Pg. 8”

“Ace!” exclaimed Phil, who could already picture himself face to face with the creature, battling to the death.

Dan, with a similar vision in mind, said, “Yeah. Just imagine how cool it would be if we were the ones who found it instead of the aurors!”

“Now that would be ace,” said Phil. “But my mum would kill me, if the scaly-bird-thing doesn’t do it first.”

Suddenly, they heard the headmistress’s voice from behind them, “As lovely as being killed by a ‘scaly-bird-thing’ does sound, I’m afraid it’s class time, and you don’t have time for that. Hurry on, now.” The boys nodded and quickly rushed off to their lessons.

*** Phil’s next lesson was divination, and as it was Monday, Professor Trelawney liked to prophesize the student’s week ahead. While waiting for his turn, Phil’s mind began to wander to him being awarded Order of Merlin First Class. After imagining the twenty minutes of applause, he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Phillip, dear, are you ready?” asked Professor Trelawney. Phil nodded. “Right then, I need you to take a deep breath in, and a long breath out.” Phil complied. “Okay, I see a good week ahead of y- wait, no. You are destined to achieve something very great. But not alone, you will have help from- it is not clear whether friend or foe,” Trelawney smiled. “Ah, I do love a mystery. That brings me to your homework for the day…”

*** As it would happen, Trelawney’s prophecy wasn’t long in the making. By the time evening rolled around, Dan and Phil were rather bored. They got to talking about lessons, and Phil mentioned his prophecy. Dan shot right up like a cork flying out of a bottle. “What?” asked Phil innocently. “Isn’t it obvious what she meant?” asked Dan, barely able to contain his excitement. “Um, no.” said Phil “She meant the scaly-bird-thing! I’m the person who’s going to help you with it!” cried Dan “Of course!” said Phil. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize that! But why do you even believe her? You’re always calling Divination a ��whole load of crap’.” “Yes, but this time’s different.” said Dan, with a glint in his eye. “Whatever you say, Dan,” said Phil. “Anyway, we have to start planning how we’re going to do this! Where should we go? How should we fight it?” “Let’s go to the library and look up spells and jinxes and curses and stuff, then we can construct a plan.” said Dan rationally. “Sounds good.” Said Phil ***

By midnight, the two boys had a carefully constructed plan and many good tricks up their sleeves. They went to bed with high hopes for the next night, dreaming of terrifying monsters eating them alive. ***

The next day was just a very long day of staring at clocks for both Dan and Phil. At last, they heard the final bell. They raced from their classrooms to their dorms to change, and quickly rushed off to their designated meeting point just inside the Forbidden Forest. When Phil got there, Dan was already waiting there under the invisibility cloak he had snatched from the teacher’s room. Dan wasted no time in grabbing Phil by the collar and pulling him under. Ignoring Phil’s stifled cry of “Ow!”, Dan quickly pulled out the folded up piece of paper from his pocket. That was their layout of the Forbidden Forest from their point of view. Just as Dan was pointing out different points to review their plan, they heard an odd noise coming from the forest. They looked around, saw nothing, and continued reviewing the plan. They soon heard the noise again, only this time it was closer. “What the hell is that?!” asked Dan in frustration, his eyes searching the right of him. “Um, Dan…” said Phil slowly. He gulped. “What?” snapped Dan. He looked in Phil’s direction. He nearly screeched. He saw a pair of the biggest, yellowest eyes he had ever seen. The eyes were followed by a ginormous red and white body of feathers and scales. It had wings as long as trees and was getting closer by the second. Phil, who had recovered from the shock already, wasted no time in shouting “Arresto Momentum!” granting them a few more seconds. Dan quickly shot a few stunning spells at the creature. The creature roared in protest. Dan and Phil jumped behind a tree just in time to avoid being scorched by the fire released from the creature’s beak-mouth. “What about the plan?” asked Dan “Eff the plan!” said Phil They could feel the monster right behind them. Dan shouted “Bombarde” to confuse it and Phil yelled “Avifors!” turning the monster into a tiny bluebird. Dan proceeded to shoot a stream of arrows from his wand, killing the small creature.

Breathing hard, the boys looked at each other and smiled. Dan picked up the crumpled plan, shook it off, and put it back in his pocket. Dan and Phil turned their back on the dead creature and started walking back to the castle. Dan looked at Phil and said, “That’s gotta be the most exercise I’ve gotten in my whole life.” “Ace.” Laughed Phil

100 points! ace! your team has completed this challenge

[broken-hearts-lives-among-us]

I’ve lost him once, I can’t lose him twice (Newt x Reader)

Pairing: Newt Scamander/Reader

Words: 3063

Warnings: Kinda angsty I guess

A/N: First imagine, I hope you to enjoy it  English isn’t my mother language so sorry if there are grammatical mistakes

Request: Nope, this is because I’m trash

PD: God, I got a lot of trouble and I had to erased the original account where I post this and made other, so stressful, but here it is again! (Sorry for the ones who read and comment the original, love you peaches )

It was like you were the world’s favorite joke.

Like, how many chances are to fall head over heels for your best friend, twice?

Maybe one in a million, and you had to be the one, funny isn’t it? Yes, it isn’t.

Or maybe you didn’t fall in love twice, maybe you just never stopped loving him. Newt Scamander was the cute loving Hufflepuff;  with floppy cinnamon hair, beautiful hazel eyes and a sky of freckles that played along with his breathtaking shy smile; you got the luck to met in your first year at Hogwarts, and you became best friends really quickly, it was almost like a click. You two lived uncountable adventures like escape to the forbidden forest or hide a Niffler in his dorm.

He was your happiness, and you were his. An unbreakable friendship, or at least that was what you thought until third year. It was suppose to be wonderful, finally you’ll be able to receive Care of Magical Creatures, just you and Newt and a whole world of your beloved creatures.

That was the idea, but then, Leta Lestrange came into your life like a tornado, unexpected and destructive. At first you didn’t want to make it a big deal,  trying to be a good friend and not to “monopolize” Newt, besides, by that time you were a little reluctant about your more than friendly feelings towards Newt, so you wanted to take it easy. The problem began when it wasn’t so easy to ignore how your escapes to the forbidden forest became hers, or when your dozens of hours of talking with Newt about whatever, became dozens of hours talking about Leta.

And it hurt, it was like feeling a Crucio curse over and over again, and after almost two years in the same situation, you couldn’t take it any more, and you two started to distance, and he became more and more attached to Leta, while you were suffering because of the realization that you had fell in love with your best friend, and you just lost him.

It was the beginning of the sixth year when Newt and you talked again, all the cabins at the Hogwarts’ Express were full, except for one, one you got to share with Newt, apparently Leta decided to spend the Christmas break at Hogwarts. At the begging there was a uncomfortable silence and a lot of stolen glances, then you started a really weird conversation,  but it ended in laughs, like the beautiful old times… But you had to screw it.

Maybe you weren’t in all your senses when you brought up the subject of you two, and then Leta, you just couldn’t stop talking, it was almost a confession about your feelings, telling him how much you had miss him, and how Leta seems unfair with him sometimes, that she was just breaking your friendship, but you felt relieved because you were you, and Newt was Newt, and he would never get angry at you, right?

Wrong.

He didn’t yell at you, but you could felt his distressed icy voice stabbing your heart.

“For Merlin’s Beard Y/N, you can’t just dump me whenever you want and then return telling me that my, actually true friend, is taking advantage of me. Can you please, I’m begging you, let me be happy, can you?”

A silent tear fell from his cheek while he abandoned the cabin in a race, you really didn’t notice the tears rolling down your face without any control until the Express’s whilst wake you up, until it was too late to run after Newt.

~

It was the last time you talked to him, you even didn’t see each other, it was officially over, he didn’t care about you, and you didn’t have to either, but you couldn’t help but care, far, far away you kept an eye on him, to make sure he was fine, sometimes you would find him sleep in the library and put a blanket over him, or a hot coco in his desk, although, he always thought it was Leta.

And you’re fine with that,  looking after him in silence. But you had to break that silencie when you found out he was being expelled. So you run.

You run as fast as you could. Even when the salty water blur your eyes, you kept running, trying to catch the train whose whistle started to announce its departure.

“Newt! Newt!”

His head pop out of a window, his teary eyes widen at your picture, running out of breath after him.

“I never dump you! I never stopped caring! I will always care!”

A small smile appeared in his sad face, his soft eyes were seeing directly to yours “I will owl you!” He said before disappearing from your vision.

“I love you…”

~

And you didn’t see Newt for years, sometimes you owl each other, but it wasn’t constant, you just knew he had became a Magizoologist, and you’re so happy for him, actually you worked in the same department as him in the Ministry of Magic, but you entered by the time he was already in some sort of trip, so you never saw each other.

Until you got a new work, apparently someone in your division who was writing a book of magical creatures, make some “minor” disturbances in New York during his trip, your assignment was to assist and monitor him.

Big was your surprise when you found out that your new coworker was no one but Newton Artemis Fido Scamander, your best friend, your first love, the one you have “recovered from”.

“Newton” you said with a high pitch of surprise.

“Y/N” he smiled with gleaming eyes “You can call me Newt, you know?” A playful shy smile was painted in his freckled face.

And from that moment there was that “click” again, but this time, you will do it the right way, you wouldn’t fall for him, so you wouldn’t lost him.

Except that you didn’t do it the right way.

You actually fall for him, again.

But how could someone not fall for the caring, loving, handsome, shy, fantastic, quirky and absolutely adorable Magizoologist?

And that’s why you couldn’t blame Tina for falling for him too.

Apparently Newt had the same feelings for her. So the story was repeating. But you’re going to be strong, and do it the right way, you couldn’t get distant with Newt, again, you couldn’t lost him.

But nooo, you suck doing the right way in this too. You sight as you see the hot coco in your mug.

“Oh hun, please stop.” Said Queenie, the poor legilimens who has been all the week listening to your useless thoughts because you have been remembering your story with Newt all over again.

Maybe it was because it was sure you’re losing Newt again!

“Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I don’t know Queenie… you know I have already lost him… And I don’t want to do it again…” The blonde and you had met in your Hogwarts years, but only by letters, you got involved in a funny event where you send an owl randomly and you met someone new from every part of the world, Queenie received yours, since then you had been owling each other.

You were surprised but mostly glad when Newt returned to New York with you to make a visit to the Goldstein sisters, and find out that this Queenie was actually the Queenie you knew, because it didn’t matter if you haven’t met her in person until that day, to you, Queenie Goldstein was your best friend.

“Oh dear, you’re my best friend too! How sweet!” You blush slightly and chuckle, the bubbly character of Queenie always cheer you up.

“Newt will be jealous if he finds out!”

Your face fades a little, sure he was going to, but just because of friendship.

“Oh hun! I’m sorry I didn’t meant to… You… Well, I insist you to talk with Newt.”

You look at her, maybe she was right… Queenie was right most part of the time. The legilimens laughed. “Well thank you!”

“Yeah… Maybe I should talk to Newt about this, even if he doesn’t see me the way I see him, also some time together could bright me up!”

“Yes! Now got into that case!”

Now you laugh, it was feeding time anyway.

“Thanks Queenie! You’re the best!” you said before going into the case, jumping a little.

“Oh, I know” Queenie smiled, suddenly her face went pale and her smile faded.

~

You were in Newt’s small shed, rolling up the sleeves of your working shirt, when someone open the door that separated the comfy room from a fantastic world full of the creatures that you utterly love. The handsome magizoologist made his appearance being completely adorable.

“Hi!” you greeted smiling “It’s feeding time! Also, can I talk to you about something?”

“Um, sure” his lopsided smile appeared in his face. “But, erm, it’s just that I’ve already feed the animals, with Tina.”

With Tina.

“Oh…” by the corner of your eye you could see Tina behind Newt, holding hands with him.

“It’s okay right? It’s just, I needed to talk some stuff with her and… Merlin’s beard, a-are you mad?”

You were staring directly to the floor, trying to hide your face. “Oh… Oh no, Newt, i-it’s fine” you forced a smile to him “Honestly I’m like super glad, I was too tired today! Now that I don’t have anything to do, I will go up an rest. Bye!” You climb up quickly and run out of the building just to collide into Queenie, who was in the front door fixing her scarf.

“A-Are you going out?” You said cleaning your tears, it was useless to lied to her, she was a legilimens.

Queenie nod with a sympathetic smile. “I’m going to MACUSA for some papers, and then I’ll visit Jacob, do you wanna come?”

“I sure want to” you link your arm with hers and you to stared to walk, you really needed distraction.

~

The walk with the blonde really helped, you were amazed by the architecture of the MACUSA building, and Jacob’s pastries really helped lighten your mood, the owner of the bakery decided to walk you home.

So the five of you were currently having dinner in a, little, uncomfortable silence.

“You know? Y/N went with me to MACUSA!” Queenie exclaimed out of nowhere, you lift up your face with curiosity.

“Oh nice! Did you like it?” Tina smiled at you excited.

“Oh, yes, the architecture is very catching” you said shyly playing with a baby carrot in your plate.

“Well Y/N just looked  interested in architecture, but some Aurors looked more interested in Y/N” Queenie said with a playful demeanor.

Your ears went red.

“Queenie!” you scold ashamed.

“Oh! And then, at the bakery, a bunch of no-majs were thinking a little bit loud about Y/N too!”

Newt seemed to flinch, you looked at him with curiosity, why did he reacted that way…? Your mind managed to create a lot of theories and conspiracies.

Then you see it.

Tina’s arm had brushed Newt’s. That was why he flinched, because he was shy and cute, and skin contact with another human affected him in such a beautiful way…

“Yeah… I-It was funny” you smiled a little “Jacob’s delicious creations has already satisfied my appetite, so sorry” you excuse yourself and went to Newt’s and yours bedroom.

~

You went down into the case, just to stopped to see Leta’s picture, it still hurts that Newt has a photo of Leta but none of you…

A sigh scape from your mouth as you went to the Niffler’s cave, the little pest was so nice at you. The furry animal curled up at your chest when you carry him in a hug.

“Hey there buddy…” you said rubbing his belly, he made content sounds making you chuckle. “You know? I wish I could be a Niffler, to stole Newt’s shiny golden heart…”

You see the small creature as a tear rolled down to your sad smile.

“Why was Leta a better Niffler than me?” You sit against the Niffler’s habitat cooing him. “I mean, I understand that Tina is a better Niffler, she is so cool and badass and just… I dunno, although Leta was badass too… Maybe it’s because I’m clumsy sometimes? Or do I cry too much?” you looked up to the sky “I’m a terrible little pest… Maybe I should have stayed away from Newt, I would like to run away…”

The Niffler make a little squeak, afraid of losing you.

You chuckle hugging him more “But I have you… And all the creatures, the case… Everything… Newt…” you sight while your voice cracked “Newt… Why did I had to fall in love with him…?” you cried, stressed “At Hogwarts I thought It was just a crush, but all this time, I never move from him, what does that means? That I will love him forever?” You lift up the Niffler trying to figure out an answer.

“I certainly hope so…” a well-known voice said behind you.

You froze.

Slowly, but like, really slowly, you turn around to see Newt’s head pop out behind the Niffler’s tree.

“O-Oh my god… I didn’t, I-I wasn’t… I… I…” you covered your face trying to hide your shame, the Niffler run into his shiny cave, like giving you two some privacy.

“Y/N…”

You looked at him, making the effort to not break at his sight “I-Im so sorry, I-I didn’t meant to ruin our friendship, and I don’t want anything to change! I know you would never liked me back and that’s why I never told you! We can just pretend you didn’t heard anything!” you smiled, in an attempt to be strong.

“I’m tired of pretending, Y/N…”

Your heart broke a little, the fear running through your veins.

“S-So… Y-You want me to disap-”

Newt interrupted you abruptly.

“I’m tired of pretending I’m not in love with you, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened as you opened your mouth in surprise. “Y-You… You what?” Were you dreaming?

“I’m completely in love with my best friend, with you.”

“But you and Tina…” in your mind, this wasn’t making any sense.

Newt sigh walking in front of you, he helped you stand up holding you close to him.

“Yeah, that’s true, I was attracted to Tina, and also to Leta, but it’s not like what I feel for you, and I thought they could make my feelings go away… But they couldn’t, and I didn’t notice how much it hurt you…” you could notice the glossy regret in his eyes as he caresses your cheek. “I… Queenie show me your letters to her… The ones were you told her how sad you were when Leta came, and how you cared about me in silence even though I always thought it was Leta, I also notice the marks of tears in the paper…” he sighed “Oh Y/N… I’m so sorry, I was so… So confused, and mad, because when I decided to tell you my feelings you started to get away, and I thought it was because you’re tired of me, and that you could never love me… But I didn’t realize I was the one that was pushing you back…”

You wanted to say something, but all this information gathering into your brain was to much to stated an understandable sentence, so you just stared directly at Newt’s eyes, at those beautiful green sea eyes that shines with a hint of ambar like a sun.

“And I didn’t notice either that it was happening again… I don’t love Tina… She is a really good friend, she was helping me to get over my feelings with you because I couldn’t take it anymore and I didn’t wanted to lose you…”

Newt looked directly in to your eyes, you move your hand softly and stroke his cheek, then in a delicate movement you pinched his cheek.

He flinched at the sudden attack. “What was that for?”

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming…”

A little smile spread across your face as Newt’s thumb cleaned away your sad tears.

“Y/N I-”

You cut him off, brushing your lips against his in a subtle, sweet movement, like an invitation for a dance, which Newt gladly accepted when he placed his hands around your waist, pulling you as closer as he could and shutting down his eyes to concentrate in the feeling of your lips, as the beat of your hearts started to race, the rhythm of the dance became more passionated, you and Newt had a perfect synchrony, the perfect match.

As the dance finished and you two pull out to breath, it was everything understood. You and Newt smiled to each other in a silent agreement. He pull you into a hug, ready to live the love you two have deserved for so many years.

Neither of you were going to lose each other, never.

You and him, started dancing again.

The end.

Bonus:

“Why don’t you have a photo of me like Leta’s?”

…

“Newt?”

Newt sight as he searched for something in his peacock blue coat, the he suddenly take out a A6 sized album full of photos of you two and just you.

“Oh…” you blushed.

“Wait, I think I have other photos here” he searched again, making you chuckle.

“Oh! You really love me, don’t you Mr. Scamander?”

“Just a smidge” he said with a happy flattered smile.

~

Omg it’s my first fanfic ever xD I hope that it was okay and you had enjoyed it, pls tell me what I could do better! Thank you guys I really love this fandom! (Yeah, I’m kind of new in HP community, but so far it’s beautiful ) Be a limited edition in this world full of cheap copies! And remember, your existences matters.