#oof this sheet looks messy to me but oh well

[skzdarlings]

04. sharing a bed series ; skz ; hyunjin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 4/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. penetrative sex n the pull out method lol. also hyunjin n reader were drugged the night before, premise is based around them getting married in vegas under the influence and not remembering how it happened in the morning. drama llama antics ensue.

-

Hyunjin has the heart of a sentimental corvid; he loves his people, but he’s weird and sneaky about it.  His propensity for dramatics is only in certain situations and the rest of the time he is quiet and tends to balk at grand displays.   He definitely does not like cuddling or hugging.  He will only begrudgingly suffer through it when his more physically affectionate friends get the bright idea to attack him with their loving arms. 

So you are wildly confused when you wake up in your hotel room with Hyunjin plastered to you, hugging you so tightly that you are halfway convinced he glued himself there.  His chin is nestled on your shoulder, his breath coming softly against your neck.  The hood of his grey sweatshirt is pulled over his head but some of his long blonde hair still falls on your face.  You blow at it unsuccessfully, getting some in your eye.  He holds you tighter.   

What the hell?

You arrived in Las Vegas yesterday and while most of last night is a foggy blur, you do remember the room had two twin beds.  Sure enough, there is a second bed just a few feet from yours, the covers completely untouched.  The neatly made bed is a stark contrast to the mess of your bed: the duvet sliding off the foot, the pillows on the floor, the bedding partially untucked.  All the sheets are wrapped around your body like a cocoon while a shivering Hyunjin clings to you, presumably for warmth.    

You try to roll over but your bedsheet-burrito has you trapped, never mind Hyunjin’s death grip of a spoon. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper.  “I can’t breathe.”

He grumbles and squeezes you, making you squeak.

“Hyunjin,” you say, a bit louder.  “Wake up.”

He groans in his sleep and buries his face further in your neck.  His nuzzling sends shivers shooting down your spine. 

“Hyunjin.”  It comes out like a croak.   You try wriggling your shoulders.  “Hyunjin, wake up!” 

He makes a disgruntled sound but doesn’t move.

“Oh my god,” you say.  “How are you such a bitch even when sleeping? Wake up!” 

When he stays sleeping, you are forced to take drastic action.  You turn your face and blow, hard.   His face scrunches up and he finally stirs. 

“Ew,” he says, slowly blinking his eyes open.  His mouth draws into a sour pout, his brow tight.  “Stop.  Your breath is so disgusting.”

“Ahem.”

He makes a fist and rubs his eyes.   His dark brows are still furrowed but there is modicum of clarity when he looks at you.  It takes a minute to fully register your proximity, his eyes flicking here and there.  Finally, they open wide.  

With remarkable speed, Sleepy Hyunjin concedes leeway to Drama Queen Hyunjin.   He mewls like a frightened cat, ripping away so quickly that it knocks the air out of you with an oof. 

“What—” he starts.

He is interrupted when his thrashing makes him slide.  You are still bundled in your bedsheet-prison and can only watch as the clumsy oaf slides backwards right off the bed.  All those long limbs make a frantic windmill as he shrieks on his way down, hitting the floor with a heavy crash and groan. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Ugh,” he replies.   “My head.”

“Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.  Well, when you’re done, come help me.”

His hand appears first, thumping onto the messy bed.  His head follows with an exhausted peek over the mattress.  His hood has fallen back and his long hair is infuriatingly neat considering everything.  Hyunjin is so beautiful that it is ridiculous.  All he does is run his long fingers through his hair, shake his head a little, and he looks picture perfect. 

“You’re staring,” he says with a scowl. 

“It’s because you’re so ugly,” you say. 

“Liar,” he says.  He makes a V with his fingers and licks between them.  “I’m sexy and you love me.” 

He is correct, so it is only natural that you try biting him.    

You chomp at him when he approaches, threatening to bite his fingers when they get too close to your face.  He pinches your nose between two knuckles and squeezes.

“Hyunjiiiiin, staaawp,” you say in a nasally whine.

He does, but only after playfully snapping his own jaws in your direction. 

“I should just leave you here and have a peaceful day,” he says.

“I’ll kill you and bury you in the desert.”

“Gross.  Can’t you bury me on the strip?”

“I’m gonna feed your carcass to some desert scorpions.”

“Ew.” 

It takes some effort, but Hyunjin manages to find where your blanket-burrito starts.  He grabs it and tugs like the annoying bimbo he is.  Your protest comes too late and he whips the blanket open, sending you flying off the bed.  You land with a heavy thud of your own. 

“Oops,” he says.  He rustles through the sheets to peer over the edge of the bed.  “Are you okaaaa—whaaaat are you wearing?”

You were already dizzy before Hyunjin decided to throw you around like a human tennis ball, but now it’s even worse. 

You have no idea what happened last night but it clearly involved a hit of something way, way, way stronger than usual.  It takes you a minute to come back to reality.  After shaking your head a few times, you are able to push yourself into a sitting position.  You finally look down.

You freeze. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “What the fuck am I wearing?”

“That’s what I just—”

“Hyunjin.  What the fuck am I wearing?!”

It is an utterly useless question because it is abundantly obvious that you are wearing a wedding dress.   A big, poofy, princess wedding dress with giant puffed up 1980s sleeves and enough cleavage on display that Hyunjin almost falls off the bed because he is tilting his head so much. 

You yank up the skirt as if that will offer any answers.  You find a pair of white stockings, one still neatly clipped to a thigh garter and the other halfway down your calf.   You stare at that stocking for a long moment, the vaguest recollection of something fighting its way through the fog of your druggy, drunk memory.   

“Uh,” Hyunjin says. 

You look up at him but his eyes are downturned to his own wrist.  You look there, your own eyes widening when you see what he sees. 

Your missing garter is looped around his wrist like a silky white bracelet. 

An image comes flooding back.  The periphery is still in smog, but you distinctly remember Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, gathering his long hair into a ponytail as he smirked up at you.  You remember him lifting your skirt, his head disappearing under the pile of white lace. 

You look at each other at the same time.  Did he just have the same memory?  Does he remember more?  You have no idea and you can’t bring yourself to ask.  Your voice is shot to hell, swallowed up by the heart that seems to have jumped into your throat.   

The silence is tense.  It is hotter than the desert in here. 

“We didn’t…?” he finally says, pointing between the two of you. 

“No way,” you say.  It sounds very uncertain. 

He lifts his other hand to tuck some hair behind his ears.  That’s when you see it.  Hyunjin wears so many rings so often that you completely missed it at first.   But right now his hands are bare save for one unfamiliar ring in a very particular spot. 

Hyunjin follows the trajectory of your horrified gaze and freezes when he spots the wedding ring.  He slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  You are afraid to check your own hand but it is imperative.   Hyunjin looks at you, his shocked hand still covering his mouth.  Together, you watch as your hand shakily rises out of the pile of white princess lace. 

There is a wedding ring on your finger too. 

You and Hyunjin scream at the same time, him clapping both hands over his ears as he hollers and you shaking your head and kicking your feet.  After your mini-freak out, you wave your hands to silence him.

“Stop, stop!” you say.  “It’s okay.  Be calm.  Be quiet.  This is okay.”

“We got married,” he wails, dragging his fingers down his face.  “My mom is gonna kill me.” 

“Your mom?  YOUR MOM?  Hyunjin, I’m gonna kill you before you even leave this city, so don’t fucking worry about your mom.”  You mime throttling him because he is too far to reach. 

Hyunjin flops down on the bed.  He lays on his back with his arms folded like he is ready to be mummified. 

“Oh my gawd,” he says.  “Oh my gawwwd…”

“Look, we might not have even done it,” you say.  It takes a lot of effort and you fall on your ass twice, but you manage to stagger ungracefully to your feet.  “Some rings and a dress don’t mean anything.  We were probably just goofing around.  What do you remember?” 

He is still in a mummification pose, his eyes closed.   

“Nothing,” he says.  He frowns.  “No, wait.  You were hitting on some ugly bitch of a man and didn’t listen to me, as usual, and the loser put something in your drink so I drank it to prove a point.  But then you still drank it because you’re the worst, and I dragged you out of there.”  He covers his face with both hands.  “Then we got married and ruined our lives.” 

“Okay, the last part you don’t know for sure,” you say.  You stumble around the bed.  “I’m gonna go wash up and clear my head and sort this out, because there’s no way we—”  You stop when you spy something sitting on the television stand.  It takes a few clumsy steps to reach, but you get there.

“Uh oh,” you say.

“Is that a marriage certificate?”  Hyunjin asks.

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.” 

“Cool.”  He rolls over so he is facedown on the bed, his voice muffled by the messy blankets.  “I love this.”

“I’m gonna… go… wash up still,” you stay.  You sigh and gather up your dress to stomp over to the bathroom door. 

“Brush your teeth,” Hyunjin says.  “Your breath is gross.” 

“I hope you suffocate over there and make me a widow.”  You close the door with a pointed shove. 

You want to disobey him on principle, but there is a truly nasty taste in your mouth so you brush your teeth before anything else.  You avoid your reflection for as long as possible because the crazed madwoman in the mirror is a terrifying sight to behold. 

You reckon with her monstrous appearance eventually, tidying up as best you can.   You remove the stockings and garter, gulping when the memory returns.  You splash a lot of cold water on your face and it helps ground you. 

Just as you begin to feel cleansed, you feel an itch on your throat.  You crane your neck and tentatively touch the sensitive indentation, the raised bruising of a hickey.   Touching it awakens another memory, one that strikes hot at your core. 

Hyunjin.  You.  This hotel room.  He pressed you against the door and caged you in, forearms on either of your head.  Despite his presence looming over you, you did not feel nervous.   You touched him as if that intimacy was something you always shared.  You remember him cupping your face in one hand and turning your head, him kissing you softly on your temple and cheek, him breathing lightly over your throat before sucking a hard kiss under your jaw.  He was all teeth and tongue, drawing moans out of you while you bucked against him.   You remember him grinding against you, remember him pinning you to the door.   You remember stringing your arms around his neck and him picking you up, then it all goes black again.   

You turn away from the mirror, still holding your neck. 

Did you… no.

Did you?

No.

You didn’t fuck Hyunjin.  No way.  You would have remembered that much.  If nothing else, there would be evidence now.  A used condom or a mess somewhere, a twinge between your legs.  You are both fully dressed.  You even have underwear on.  It’s not the underwear you were wearing when you first left the hotel room, but it is underwear nonetheless. 

One thing is certain; you did not go that far. He took a bite out of you and carried you to the bed where you probably passed out.  How you got into a blanket-burrito, you are not sure, but at least it protected your dignity.  Whatever was left of it, at least. 

You step out of the bathroom only to walk straight into a pacing Hyunjin.   You bonk heads and cuss each other out, swatting the other person out of your way. 

He walks over to the bathroom and is about to step inside when you release a sigh. 

“I have a hickey,” you say.   

He pauses in the bathroom doorway. 

“You gave it to me,” you add. 

You cross your arms when he turns around, his gaze suddenly too hard to meet.  You tap your foot and stare at the wall. 

“I know,” he says.  “I remember it.” 

That draws your attention.  You look right at him and plant your hands on your hips. 

“Well, what else do you remember?” you ask. 

“I—I—ugh!  This is so annoying!  Ugh!”  He grabs his head and shakes it like a snow globe. 

His stupid beautiful hair is barely ruffled and he still looks amazing when he surfaces.  He runs his teeth over his plump bottom lip and you suddenly remember him grabbing your face with both hands, him smiling at you as a hot breeze fluttered around you, him holding you steady as he planted a big, wet kiss on you.  It makes your whole body lock with tension, barely paying attention to the Hyunjin in front of you now, the Hyunjin on the verge of a meltdown as he intentionally smacks his head against the doorway. 

“We came back here,” he says.  His whole face is scrunched up with disgust like he just ate something bad.  “Then I gave you that.”  He slaps a hand over his face.  “Then you… tried…”  He puts the other hand on his face too.

“I tried what?” you ask, heat creeping your neck. 

“You put your hand down my pants,” he croaks, hands over his eyes.  “I said we should wait until morning and you started crying.  I think you tried to give me a lap dance while crying, actually.”  That does sound like you, drugged or not.  “Then I…”  He points to the messy bed.  “I wrapped you in the sheet to protect your honour.”   

“My honour?  Ewwww.  Don’t call it that.”

“I’m gonna go drown myself in the shower.” 

“Hyunjin, wait.”

Once more, you stop him before he crosses the door.  He sighs and his shoulders deflate.  Pushing a hand through his hair, he turns around.

“What?” he says. 

“I’ll take care of this, okay,” you say gently.  “We weren’t ourselves.  Thank you… for taking care of me.  Seriously.” 

He sniffs and looks aside, the tips of his ears turning red.  You try to ignore the pitter-patter of your heart.  

“It’s Vegas,” you say.  “I bet they have drive-through divorces.  I’m just… I’m just sorry this happened.” 

“You are?” he says, staring at the ground. 

“Of course,” you say with as much sincerity as you can muster.  “Hyunjin, I know you.  You’re a goofy old romantic.  I’m sure you’re not happy about your first technical marriage happening while you were drugged up, and to someone you don’t even love.  Right?”

He looks a little panicked when he meets your gaze.  It flashes in his eyes for a second, then he looks away.  He crosses his arms protectively over his chest.    

“Hyunjin,” you say.  It feels like someone just lit fireworks in your chest.  “You… don’t… love me, right?” 

There is a long moment of silence then he throws both hands in the air. 

“Why do you say it like that?” he demands.  “Would it be that bad if I did?”

“What.” Your jaw falls open.  “You love me?”   

“Unfortunately, yes.  Sorry for inconveniencing you with my goofy romantic feelings.”  He snarls at you.  “It just happened.  If I could have stopped it, I would have, but I can’t.  So live with it.” 

“What kind of love confession is this?  You’ve watched like a million romance dramas and that’s what you come up with?”

“I’m a painter, not a poet.  Good-bye.”  He is quick this time, jumping into the bathroom and slamming the door closed.   

It leaves you standing there, jaw still hanging open. 

Hyunjin loves you. 

Of course Hyunjin loves you.  How could you be so stupid?  All this time, you had yourself convinced your best friend was unattainable because he’s the most gorgeous creature on earth, but all this time he loved you and you didn’t even notice.   He drank a drugged drink just to protect you.  He got a bit nutty in the head and married you, but even at his most fucked up, some intrinsic part of him sprung to your defense.  No matter how out of his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that could potentially hurt you. 

Oh my god.  

Hyunjin loves you.  You love Hyunjin. 

You are pacing when Hyunjin exits the bathroom and smacks into you.  You bonk heads and curse, again, then he brushes past without saying anything more.  You watch him go to the clean bed, watch him fold back the covers.   He takes off his hoodie and his pants.  Despite how many times you have casually dressed down around each other, this time you find yourself looking away, hot in the face.   When you look back, he is in a t-shirt and his boxers, sliding under the covers. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Going back to sleep,” he says.  “I’m tired.”  

He doesn’t look at you once.  He rolls onto his side and faces the wall, laying stiff as a board. 

You touch a finger to the mark on your neck and shiver.

“Hyunjin,” you say, to which he just grunts in reply.  “I want to sleep too.  I’m sorry, but can you help me with the dress?” 

He exhales and closes his eyes, shoulders dropping, but then he flips the covers down and gets out of bed.   He still doesn’t meet your gaze.   His strides are long and quick and, before you can blink, he is in front of you. 

You open your mouth to speak but he grabs you and spins you around.  It feels like an electric zap from your heart to your pussy, hands instinctively clutching your chest in surprise. 

You can feel him fiddling with a few buttons, muttering expletives to himself.   

He is still wearing the ring.  So are you. 

“Hyunjin,” you say softly.  “I love you too.” 

He has his fingers on the zipper.  He stops. 

“What?” he asks.  He stops touching you entirely so you look back at him.  He is tucking hair behind both ears, shaking his head.  “Don’t just… say it,” he says, still staring sideways.  “That’s worse than not hearing it.” 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  At least he looks at you this time, even if it is with uncharacteristic uncertainty.  You smile at him.  “Unzip me please.” 

You turn back around, chewing on your bottom lip.  

It takes a second, but Hyunjin does what you asked.  You feel one hand on your back, the other circling the zipper.  He tugs it down slowly and you shiver as the cool air conditioned air kisses your back.  His fingers brush your bare skin when releasing the zipper.

“Thank you,” you say, glancing back at him. 

He nods curtly and spins around.  You smile, watching him march back to the bed.   You turn your back to him when you let the dress drop, then you remove your bra.  His open luggage is nearby so you slip a t-shirt out of the suitcase.  It smells like him, his favourite cologne, and that alone gets you hot.  

With a final tug on the hem of the t-shirt, you turn and walk up to the bed he is in.  He is sitting upright but under the covers, his hands folded neatly in his lap while he stares at you. 

“Can I sleep here too?” you ask.  “The other bed is a mess.”

He nods.  A second ago, he refused to look at you and now he can’t stop staring.  It makes you grin, beaming at him as you slide under the covers. 

“You’re staring,” you say. 

“I’m not,” he lies, still staring at you.  He slumps against the headboard and slides down until he is laying flat.  His hair pools around him on the pillow.  Ridiculously gorgeous man. 

You lean over him, staring back.  You rest a hand on his chest and can feel his heart palpitating as quickly as your own. 

“You are staring,” you say, then giggle a little because his expression is still wide-eyed.  “You look like you’ve never seen a woman in bed before, and I know that’s not true.”   

You say it jokingly but he doesn’t laugh.  He tilts his head, his expression softening.  His tongue touches his upper lip then he smiles at you. 

“Not like this,” he says with heart-stopping sincerity.  “Not you.  Not… my wife.” 

Oh god.   People always act like there is something supremely unsexy about wife or husband, some stagnant nothingness that kills sex appeal.  But the second he says that word, it feels like an electric storm ignites between the two of you.   His gaze is dark, his breathing hard, his heart still pounding under your palm.  You suck in a deep breath, a shuddering release.  You are already aching. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. 

His hand comes up and cups your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.  It passes over your bottom lip and tugs at it.  It feels like you have a heartbeat between your legs. 

“Fuck,” you say, and swing yourself over him. 

He makes a noise the second you are straddling him, both his hands dropping to hold your hips.   You lean down, your hands on either side of his head.  His eyes are already closed when you start kissing him.  You rock against him, feel him getting harder in his boxers as his hands run up and down your thighs. 

The kiss breaks for a second, just to breathe, and he sighs. 

“Good,” he says.  “You brushed your teeth.”

“You are soooo…”  You try to sound annoyed but it’s impossible.  He laughs, his eyes crinkling with mirth.  “Ughhh, the worst!” 

You roll off him as if you have any intention of denying him, but he doesn’t give you a chance to tease him.   He just follows, rolling on top of you so it’s you pinned under him, the weight of him between your open legs.   He goes right back to kissing you, taking his time, almost torturously slow while pressed so intimately against you.  He licks into your mouth, nips at your bottom lip, steals your breath and comes back for more. 

“Hyunjin.”  You are out of breath.  You grab his face with both hands, gasping against his open mouth. 

“Mm?” he replies, pecking your lips. 

A part of you thinks you could lie in bed all day doing nothing but kiss Hyunjin.  Just a small part.  The rest of you is burning up with the need for much, much more. 

“Make love to me,” you whisper.  His breath stutters.  “Please,” you say.

He nods frantically.  If you weren’t so hazy with want, it might have made you laugh.  As it is, you string your arms around his neck and pull him down for another kiss.  This one gets heated quickly, wet and sloppy and pressed messily to the corner of your mouths, your hands moving over each other, trying to find the hems of your shirts without breaking apart. 

It happens in a frenzy, but you somehow get down to just your underwear.  His boxers land on the lamp and the shirts could have flown out the window for all that you care.  He is laving kisses all over your body and you are so wound up that you get a little teary, arching under him and tugging on his hair. 

“Hyunjin, please,” you say, dragging your nails up his back.  “I need you.”

He looks up at you.  You smile and bite your lower lip.

“I need my husband,” you say.

You are pretty sure you can visibly see his brain short-circuiting.   The next second, he is fully above you, pulling your panties down your hips.  It stays hooked around one ankle but the thought of it leaves your mind quickly.   He slides his hands under your thighs and spreads you open, leaning down to kiss you as he finally eases inside you.   

You both look down at where he inside you.  It feels like your clit is jumping for attention, your whole body shaking when he gently rubs you there while sinking fully in. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, mostly to himself once he fully inside you.  He closes his eyes and breathes a little harder.  “Don’t move,” he says.  He leans down so his chest is against yours, your faces close.  “If you do, this is gonna be over really quickly.”

“Really?” you say with a giggle, pleased he is as unravelled as you. 

He just nods, his eyes still closed.  You kiss his cheek and hold the back of his neck, stroking there lightly and giving him a minute. 

“Feels good,” you say, because it does, even just like this, pressed so tightly together, him so full and hard inside you. 

He just groans, dropping his face to the crook of your neck and shoulder.  You rake your fingers through the hair at his nape when he rocks a testing thrust into you.  You have only just adjusted when those hips starting rocking with fluid determination, rolling steady and deep.  He feels almost impossibly good inside you, driving you into the mattress again and again. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, putting both arms around his neck and clinging tight.  “Hyunjin.”

He just makes noise, unintelligible sounds that make him sound crazy despite how deftly he is moving.  You feel a bit crazy yourself, blinking at him with your mouth open when he lifts his head.   He kisses you, swallowing up your gasping moans, and presses his forehead to yours.  For someone who claimed to be close, he lasts a long time at a steady pace, the subtle, corded muscles of his slender frame holding taut as he moves. 

“Touch yourself,” he says, and kisses you without waiting for an answer. 

You kiss him back, very messily at that, but you do what he said.  You lick your fingertips and slide that shaking hand between your bodies, getting yourself off just seconds before his hips get erratic and he has to pull out.  He strokes himself to completion just over you, coming on your thighs.  He manages to reserve his strength long enough to gather you in his arms and roll over.  He guides you to rest on top of him, your face in his sweaty neck and your rising-and-falling chest against his own. 

“Why haven’t we been doing that for years?” you mumble. 

He laughs, his hand flying to his face to cover his mouth while he giggles.   The ring catches your eye and you reach for that hand.   He gets quiet, watching you. 

You lace your fingers with his, looking at the ring then looking up at him. 

“We’re a little crazy if we stay like this,” you say. 

He leans in and kisses you for so long that you almost forget what you were saying.  You remember when he smiles down at you, when he squeezes your hand, when he leans in and says, “That’s okay.  I like a little crazy.” 

In agreement, you smile back. 

[artimisian]

reference sheet for my new baby Tai!! 

they’re like -- a parallel/alternate universe version to Xan purely because I want a not-light-aligned character to mess with uvu

[sleepysnk]

OOF OKAY, I GOT THIS IDEA FROM A FRIEND ON DISCORD. i hope you guys enjoy this horny piece of smut because it definitely made me feel some type of way 😏❤.

Sleepovers

Pairings: Jean Kirstein x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, praising, voyeruism.

It was a usual Friday night for (Y/N) and her friend group.

They were having one of their annual sleepovers that took place almost every other weekend. Of course everyone now being in college, things like this were more common as there was no parental guidance involved. (Y/N) loved the idea of sleeping over with her friends and she always came whenever it was planned.

The friend group consisted of Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Sasha, Connie, Reiner, Bertholdt, his girlfriend Annie, and Jean.

Jean had always had it out for (Y/N) ever since they met during her freshman year of college. He treated her differently from everyone else. (Y/N) couldn't lie and say she didn't have a crush on him, he was charming, tall, and such a huge flirt. He had everything she would have wanted in a guy.

He'd always throw a compliment her way or give her a sly smile that made her feel weak, Jean knew all the right things to do to make her feel special. He had a way with words that nobody else seemed to have.

(Y/N) always returned the favor, throwing a nice compliment his way or sending a cute flirt. Jean would always be absolutely surprised at her actions, he never took her as the type to flirt back. He always found himself winning during those flirts.

Sometimes their own friends would call them out on it, telling them to "get a room!" or "get together already!". Neither of them had the courage to confess any feelings because they were just too chicken shit for it.

The night started off fun, they picked Eren's place to spend the night which was decently cool. They all watched a movie, played games, had a bit of alcohol, and even built a pillow fort which was later destroyed by Connie and Sasha over a fight about snacks.

(Y/N) and Jean had their usual hinted comments thrown around. He didn't leave her side the whole night, he always found himself beside her or near her.

"Shit I am exhausted.." Eren said, yawning.

The night was finally dying down. Eren and Mikasa layed on the couches in the basement, Armin was already snoozing in his sleeping bag while Connie and Sasha were both knocked out. Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie were just laying down droopy eyed as the movie they watched played on the tv.

(Y/N) was next to Jean, both were wide awake.

Eren stood up, grabbing the remote from the table. "I'm hitting the hay, goodnight guys." he said, switching off the tv.

Darkness filled the room besides the small light coming from one of those scented wall plug-ins. The bathroom also had a small light which emitted from the darkness. (Y/N) heard shuffling, assuming it was Eren laying down on the couch.

The time on the small clock read 2:41 A.M.

(Y/N) tried her best to get comfortable, unlike everyone else she was struggling to fall asleep. She assumed it was because she had about three sodas and a ton of other sugar, her body was wide awake. She pulled the blanket over her body trying to at least get comfortable, but being on a floor was kind of an issue.

She opened one eye to look at the clock which now read 3:01 A.M.

She sighed, a whole 15 minutes had gone by and she still hadn't fallen asleep. She couldn't exactly go walk around Eren's place, that'd seem rude and she didn't want to wake anybody.

She shifted to the other side where Jean was, that's when her eyes were met with Jean's open ones. He was staring at the ceiling.

She blinked a bit, thinking he was sleeping with his eyes open until his gaze averted towards her.

"Can't sleep either huh..?" Jean asked, his voice low to prevent anyone from waking up.

A soft laugh came from her mouth. "No.. I blame it on all the sugar I had," she replied and looked at him.

A chuckle came from his throat. "You wanna get under the covers? We can talk until one of us falls asleep," he asked in a whisper.

She nodded and sat up, he pulled the blanket over their heads. (Y/N) used her phone flashlight to light up the blanket, her eyes squinted a bit from the bright light. Jean's hair was a bit messy from laying down, he still looked amazing.

A smile grew onto his lips seeing her. "You look pretty cute for being at a sleepover," he said, crossing his legs.

She felt heat rush onto her cheeks. "Not at all.. I feel messy and tired yet I can't sleep," she said, laughing a bit.

Jean admired her features in the lighting, he fingers slightly ghosted over her cheek. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as he touched her.

"You look adorable," Jean said, scooching his body closer towards hers. Their knees touched, making her skin tingle.

They sat there staring at each other for a few moments, suddenly they leaned into each other, their lips connecting into a warm passionate kiss. His tongue swiped along her bottom lip, asking for permission. She slightly moaned into the kiss, he took the opportunity to explore her mouth.

He cupped her cheek and brought her body closer to his. She felt heat forming in between her legs.

"You don't know what you do to me.." he whispered.

Anticipation bubbled in her stomach as he turned her flashlight off. She let out a shaky breath as her eyes closed, feeling his lips attack her neck. She felt his teeth grazing against the soft flesh of her neck, her breath hitched feeling him sucking her sweet spot.

"J-Jean.." she cried out, biting her lip trying to stay quiet.

He smirked against her skin. "Lay down for me (Y/N).." he whispered against her ear.

She lied down on her pillow, Jean's body spreading her legs apart. He put his hands on either side of her head, leaning down to engulf her into another kiss.

He began to kiss down her neck down towards her chest, then towards her belly. Goosebumps littered onto her skin feeling his wet lips against her skin, soft whimpers and moans escaped her lips.

Jean hooked his fingers around the hem of her shorts. "Can I?" he asked, raising his brows.

She couldn't faintly see the outline of his body in the darkness. "Yes.." she replied in a whisper.

He pulled her shorts down her legs, tossing them under the blanket next to them. She shuddered a bit as she felt the cooler air against her wet cunt. Jean maneuvered himself so he was now laying next to her with his head propped up by his arm.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt his fingers on her clit, he circled it slowly making her legs open a little wider for him. She felt jolts of pleasure shooting around her body, causing her to become a bit shaky.

They both stopped when they heard shifting coming a few feet away. Eren slightly groaned in his sleep. The two looked at each other before he continued to rub her clit.

"You gotta be quiet beautiful.. we don't need anyone hearing you," Jean whispered, nibbling at the shell of her ear. "But you're so wet.. is that what I do to you? I make your pussy soaked?"

She moved her hips upwards, biting her lip to prevent any moans from escaping her lips.

A low chuckle came from him. He slid one of his fingers into her hot core, a gasp escaped her lips feeling his finger inside of her. He covered her mouth instantly and looked around, making sure nobody got up.

He slowly pumped his finger into her, he felt the aching of his cock causing him to groan a bit as he fingered her. She dug her nails into the sheets below her, shaky breaths and small whimpers came from her mouth as he hit her g-spot.

"J-Jean.." she whimpered, moving her hips to feel more of his finger.

His finger stopped, causing her to look at him in annoyance.

"Be quiet.." he said, pressing his lips onto hers.

She moaned into the kiss when she felt two digits enter her again, the pace this time was a bit quicker.

Her velvety walls fluttered around his fingers, squelching noises came from her pussy from how wet she was.

"You're such a good girl (Y/N)... you take me so well," he whispered, his voice raspy and deep. "You want me to make you cum?"

She shook her head as she whimpered. "Y-Yes.." she replied.

He felt her walls tightening around his fingers, his pace quickened. He turned her head towards his, his eyes staring into hers.

The knot in her stomach came apart as her orgasm took over her body, she buried her face into his neck and let out a soft moan. Her legs felt shaky and her eyes saw white as she creamed around his fingers.

Jean removed his fingers which were coated in her slick arousal. He licked his fingers, savoring the taste.

"You're better than I ever imagined.." he said with a smirk on his face.

She panted a bit, pulling the covers over her body. "Jean.. will you.. cuddle up with me?" she asked, feeling heat rush onto her cheeks.

He smiled. "Of course.. who am I to deny you?" he replied and plopped down next to her.

He pulled her into his embrace, she felt exhausted after coming down from her high. Jean rubbed small circles into the flesh of her waist as he felt his eyes becoming droopy.

-

The next morning the two were awoken by everyone talking.

"I slept decent on the floor," Armin said and sat up.

Everyone's eyes averted towards (Y/N) and Jean who were cuddled up together, her head laying on his chest while his arms were wrapped around her waist.

Eren chuckled. "Well would you look at that? Look at that those two," he said and smirked.

"It was only a matter of time before this happened," Sasha said, yawning.

Eren laughed again before leaning back against the couch. "You should have heard them last night.. they had plenty of fun," he said as he remembered the events that occurred during the night.

(Y/N) sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Hmm?" she asked as she looked around at her friends.

"Oh nothing!" Eren replied, shaking his head.

Jean's eyes open, a slight blush formed onto his face seeing (Y/N) next to him this close.

"Ugh.. you guys are so loud," he said and groaned a bit.

Eren laughed again. "I'd like to say the same to you and (Y/N).." he said and grinned widely.

Their jaws dropped as Eren's words processed through their heads. "Ugh shit.." (Y/N) said as embarrassment rushed onto her face.

"Did you guys..?" Connie asked, furrowing his brows.

Jean snaked his arm around her waist. "None of your business," he replied.

"Look next time you guys wanna do the nasty just go upstairs," Eren said and rolled his eyes playfully.

Connie and Sasha bursted out laughing. "Ew! You guys did the nasty down here!?" Connie asked in between laughter.

(Y/N) covered her face with her hands. "Ugh Eren! You're an asshole," she said and shook her head.

"Connie stop acting like you didn't finger Sasha that one day.. I saw that," Jean said as a smirk formed onto his face.

The two both turned red. "U-Uh.. um.." Sasha said and looked away.

The conversation eventually ended and everyone went back to normal conversation. Jean and (Y/N) talked a bit longer.

"We should hangout later.. you know.. finish what we started," Jean whispered in her ear.

She smirked. "Most definitely.." she replied, kissing his cheek.

[kayr0ss]

Sleeping Together (Diakko)

[LWA, Diakko, drabble, FLUFF!!!, I’m not sure how safe this is for work?, domestic]

Summary: ...or at least they tried.

-

They stumbled into their apartment in a harried bout of kissing.

Diana was always a good kisser. After all these years, she had never fallen short of amazing Akko with how she’d perfected the method of using her lips to make the brunette’s knees go weak.

And weak they were.

Akko was struggling to keep herself upright while they shuffled into their bedroom after a rare and much-needed date night.

“Oof!” Akko yelped, nearly twisting her ankle after a careless step in her god-awful heels. They were new and she wanted to dress up a little for her fiancee’s sake—but by the nine she hated them and the way the chafed at the back of her foot.

“Is everything alright?” Diana held her steady by her forearms.

“These—” Akko grunted, struggling to kick them off “—things are ridiculous, Diana. And not worth the extra two-inches in height!”

Diana hummed in amusement, taking Akko by the hand to seat her at the edge of their bed.

“For what it’s worth, darling, you looked amazing in them.”

Akko had all but swooned at the way Diana knelt in front of her, taking it upon herself to remove the nude-colored heels which admittedly highlighted Akko’s red dress in all the right ways.

Then Diana paused, lifting Akko’s leg to inspect something that had caught her attention. “You have an abrasion.”

“It’s nothing,” Akko dismissed, pulling on one of Diana’s arms so she’d join her in bed. A little stinging in the foot wasn’t enough to make her forget the heat that their kissing had started in her stomach.

“Nonsense.” Diana punctuated, already standing up to fetch a small first-aid kit at their nightside.

A few minutes and a Shiny Chariot-themed band-aid later, they were ready to get back into business.

“So.” Akko blinked up, grinning. “Sex?”

Diana laughed, falling forward onto the bed and into Akko’s arms.

--

Akko’s favorite part intimacy was undressing. There were many reasons for the preference, but it all boiled down to, first and foremost, more of Diana’s skin. Secondary to this was the satisfying feeling of undoing zippers and buttons, and finally, the physical relief of escaping the suffocating embrace of formally tailored clothing.

They were well into undressing now—sinking into the mattress with Diana whispering into her ear. The slow sound of ‘zipping’ and the rustling of the sheets almost sounded musical.

And then there was a blaring alarm. Diana cursed.

“Did you forget to take it during dinner?” Akko groaned, head falling back down into the pillow in disdain.

“No, my doctor had moved the dosage to right before bedtime.” Diana sighed apologetically, pushing herself off of Akko—half-naked and all.

But it was a little funny if she thought about it; at twenty-five years old Diana Cavendish needed maintenance medication for her blood pressure!

Akko watched as Diana once again walked to the edge of the room and flicked on their lights. The sudden brightness stung at Akko’s eyes. The blonde picked up a small orange bottle from her bag and squinted—her glasses were nowhere to be found. Upon confirmation of its contents, she excused herself for a moment to grab a glass of water from their kitchen.

A few moments later, she returned to find Akko idly swinging her legs at the edge of their bed.

The brunette grinned. “At least we know you won’t be getting a heart attack from me anytime soon.”

“Not like you make it easy to avoid one.”

“Mou!” Akko pouted, but she loved the sound of Diana’s laughter.

This time, it was Diana who reached out to hold Akko’s hands in hers.

“Right.”

Her blue eye scanned the length of Akko’s body. She raised her eyebrows, smiling slyly.

“Sex.”

--

There were no interruptions this time, and Diana would probably need to ice the fresh bruise on Akko’s shoulder the next morning. They’d finally gotten far enough to engage in foreplay, albeit not as lively as usual nights.

But she’d take what she can get because life had a way of mismatching their schedules and giving them horribly long shifts and more birthday parties than they cared to attend.

This time, however, it was Akko’s skin that Diana wanted to religiously attend to.

The brunette looked like she appreciated it. The anticipation of the act that was to come was thrilling but Diana was already more than happy just having Akko this close—that she got to come home to her every day.

She decided to forego kissing Akko’s collarbone so she could move up and kiss her properly on the lips. She leaned against Akko’s forehead, loving the way her arms had wrapped loosely around her shoulders, and when Diana’s nose bumped against the brunette’s—

Akko yawned.

Straight up yawned.

“I—” Akko tried to start, head turning to the side and hand coming down quickly to cover her mouth while still yawning “—I’m sorry!” She whined up to Diana in despair, looking both embarrassed and trying not laugh at the same time.

“Oh, by Beatrix.” Diana’s head fell forward to Akko’s shoulder, her body shaking in poorly-concealed giggles.

“We’re hopeless, Diana!” The brunette groaned.

Hopeless and in love, Diana thought to herself in resignation. She gave up on foreplay and decided that the warmth of an embrace was much more attainable and not any less appealing.

She kissed Akko’s temple, still smiling and chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all. Akko happily melted into her arms, having abandoned seduction to snuggle her instead.

“In my defense,” Akko grumbled into her neck, “I did two appearances in two cities today. Two cities!”

“And I just came from a thirty-six-hour shift before our dinner.” Diana nodded.

Akko tangled her legs with Diana’s, pulling the messy sheets up to cover them. “And this is nice too.”

“It is.”

“So,”

Red eyes looked up to her, soft and tired but beautiful all the same.

“Sleep?”

Diana smiled. Her heart felt full.

“Sleep.”

She liked it when they slept together.

-

fin

-

A/N: Hey guys! Trying to work on Appointments 6 so I'm exercising my fluff muscles. I've been reading a variety of stuff so I thought to re-orient myself towards the easy-going story snippet kind of writing so I can get to to the chapter with the same feel. This was such a cute idea I couldn't get rid of and i'm 100% convinced this would happen LOL stay safe & stay home!

[sandalwoodhusbands]

watching cityscapes turn to dust 

"Why don't you say my name anymore?"

"I do. Not often, but I do."

"But why?"

"Because i'm afraid that once I start saying it, I will never stop."

There's silence. And then-

"Would that be so bad?"

part I - Italy

Before

Somewhere in Italy, August 2018

“Damn.” Yann lets out a low whistle to his right.

And damn, indeed. Lucas has seen recording studios in his life; not many, admittedly, one when he visited San Francisco when he was 16, and the ones him and the guys have used in the past to record their last two albums, but he’s sure they usually don’t look like this . Like a very expensive, very unaffordable beach house.

“This is where we’re staying?”

“This is where we’re staying.”

Lucas grips his suitcase tighter, eyes roaming across the red brick walls and rustic columns before they settle on the elegant picnic table tucked in a corner. What even the fuck is Italy, really. He feels Eliott’s restlessness behind him without having to turn around, and it’s weirdly endearing, how tall, dark and handsome Eliott Demaury is so intimidated by all this.

“What the fuck is my life,” Eliott mumbles. “What the fuck is my life.”

Lucas snorts before turning to look at him. He sees Eliott’s wild eyes staring back at him, hands on the straps of the guitar on his back and duffle bag by his feet, his hair a mess from brushing his hands through it on the way here. And god, if the Italian sun doesn’t look good on him, on his golden skin and filtering through his chestnut hair, and Lucas has no clue how he’s supposed to survive this. He doesn’t.

“You good over there?” He asks him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliott waves him off. The look of disbelief in his eyes betrays him. “I just- this is where the people with more than a fiver in their back pocket record their music?”

“You’d have to ask those people.” Eliott gives him a look and gestures around them. Lucas huffs out a laugh. “No, I don’t know. This is a first time for me too, I’m just as impressed. But they say it’s easy to get used to the good things in life, right?” He shrugs before picking back his suitcase. “Well, you coming?”

“I’m coming.”

***

When the alarm in his phone wakes him up, it’s barely light out and the sheets are cold and tangled around his bare legs. Lucas buries his face on the pillow, groaning, before rolling on his back and sitting down in bed. This part he hates, the whole having to wake up at dawn and not murder anyone on his way to his second cup of coffee thing, and he sighs once more before standing up on tired legs.

He throws on a pair of old sweatpants and a black hoodie, pulling the hood over his head. Then, with his phone on one hand and his favorite pair of drumsticks tucked in the elastic band of his sweatpants, he leaves the room in search for the kitchen.

“Morning.” A voice behind him startles him, making him almost drop the packet of instant coffee on the kitchen counter.

He turns around, a gasp hanging from his lips when he finds Eliott’s lean figure sitting on top of the kitchen table. He eyes the cup of coffee Eliott is quietly stirring between his hands, and wonders if he’s the reason why there’s not enough milk for another whole mug. As beautiful as this place is, it seriously lacks in the food department.

“Oh, hey.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Eliott says with a frown. He fiddles with the cup between his hands, avoiding Lucas’ gaze. “The guys are already waiting on room 2. They want to start with a full rehearsal first.”

Lucas places the mug on the counter before walking over to Eliott. “Hey,” he says. “Hey, are you okay?”

Eliott shrugs.

It pinches his heart, the sight before him.

Everything is dimmed out; the washed out white walls, the grey curtains, furniture all made with wood and the morning sun not quite out yet, only a trail of cold light coming through the tall windows. Eliott sitting in the middle of everything, and Lucas is so used to seeing him light up the whole room, that the hunch of his shoulders and anxious look in his eyes overwhelm him. Eliott looks small right now, despite having a head on Lucas, almost like he blends in with the sadness in the room, and Lucas hates it.

“Having second thoughts?” Lucas asks jokingly, but he thinks the worry bleeds through his voice anyway.

Eliott’s eyes widen marginally at that.

“No! No, that’s not it. It’s not. I’m just, fuck,” Eliott lowers the mug on the table next to his hip. He gives a sigh before hiding his face between his hands. “I’m just so fucking scared, Lucas.” His voice sounds muffled, nothing but a whisper between his fingers, but Lucas hears it perfectly. The hitch between words. The tremor in his lips. “I’m so scared.”

"Eliott, what?" Lucas raises a tentative hand and rests it on Eliott’s shoulder, unsure of what to do. “What are you talking about?”

“This…” Eliott starts, rubbing his face before uncovering his face. It’s all red now, his grey eyes all glassy. “This whole thing. I’m so scared. And I feel so guilty, all the time. I’m scared I will look like I’m trying to steal Arthur’s place, and then everyone will hate me. Your fans. You. Arthur.”

And Lucas is unsure of everything, except of the fact that Eliott is breaking his heart.

“Fuck, Eliott-”

“And I like you guys so much. I went to the try-outs because I told myself I had nothing to lose, that if anything, I would get to play in front of professionals for the first time in my life. But suddenly you were saying you were keeping me and next thing I know is I’m here.” Eliott shrugs helplessly. “It’s easy to get used to the good things in life, you said, and I’m so scared to get used to this.”

“Fucking hell, Eliott. I want you to listen clearly. Look at me.” He squeezes Eliott’s shoulder, catching his attention. Eliott looks at him through teary eyes, and Lucas has to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid reaching forward and catching the salty drops with his thumb. “We like you too. You’re one of us now, I want you to understand that. I need you to understand that. After Arthur’s accident everything felt so hopeless. Arthur didn’t leave his bed in a week. I thought it would end him. That it would end us.” He takes a deep breath. “But it didn’t. I was scared, too, of the possibility of someone else taking Arthur’s place, at the beginning. But now you’re here, and nothing has ever felt this right. We won’t hate you. Arthur won’t hate you. In fact, I’ve heard he’s over the moon with you. We all are, actually. You didn’t hear this from me, but… I think he has a crush on you.” He bites back the, I know I do.

Eliott lets out a wet laugh and punches him in the shoulder. “Shut up, idiot.”

Lucas stumbles back for effect with a breathless oof before stepping closer. He gives Eliott a small grin, tentative fingers drumming against his knees and pressing down on the bone. “But I’m serious. We love you here. You’re one of us now, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He presses once more on Eliott’s knees, the material soft and comfortable under his fingertips. He pulls back then, and Eliott shoots him a small, grateful smile.

“Lucas-”

Lucas shakes his head with a warm smile of his own. “Don’t mention it.”

Eliott tilts his head to one side with a frown on his face, and before Lucas can ask what’s wrong, there’s arms around his waist and a warm cheek pressed to the top of his head. Lucas freezes for a moment before looping his own arms around Eliott’s back. “No, Lucas, but I will.” Eliott whispers. “I will. Thank you.”

Lucas smiles a little in return, saying nothing. He nods against Eliott’s chest, because he heard him. He did. But no more words are needed.

***

“Okay guys, from the beginning now. Eliott, can you turn your amp a little higher?”

Eliott bends hesitant to adjust the volume control and strums out a G chord.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

Lucas ducks his head behind the drum set, smile half-hidden by a cymbal as he watches Eliott’s cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. It’s so unfair, how Eliott feels so insecure under all that determination shining inside his eyes. Lucas wishes he would trust himself a little more.

“Okay. On 3, 2, 1-”

And the room explodes in a wave of sounds and one hundred notes playing at the same time. The low hum of the bass pairs with two guitars, Lucas carrying the rhythm with the drums. He loses himself to it, eyes closed, his hands moving automatically to the beat of the song coming from his headphones. This is his favorite part; his own personal haven. Music.

He’s already panting. There’s sweat forming at  his hairline, but his heart still picks up when he realizes he’s close to his favorite part of the song. He hits the drums in a quick succession, all fast and hard and raw, grinning to himself at how fucking good it sounds, lifting his head to look at Yann, who’s already smirking down at him, because they know each other so well that even the faintest cue clues them in. And then his eyes move to Eliott-

Who looks like every single one of Lucas’ wet dreams.

Lucas wants to eat him alive. Wants him to play with his body the way his fingers play with the strings of his guitar. Lick the sweat pooled under his lower lip and bite the side of his neck, run his fingers through his messy hair, straddle his lap before getting him off that oversized black t-shirt and just fucking kiss him everywhere.

There's concentration in Eliott’s face as he plucks the strings at a beat beat that makes Lucas feel dizzy, and he’s just standing there with a guitar in his hands, one leg slightly propped up to support it. His gym shorts have ridden up at that knee, giving Lucas the opportunity to see a tattoo peeking out of it. His grip on the drum sticks tightens as Eliott wets his lips with his tongue, and then Eliott is tilting his head up. And their eyes meet.

He loses grip of one of the sticks. He watches with wide eyes how it flies off his hand and against the wall behind him. He’s opening his mouth to say sorry when an excruciating metallic sound breaks through the room.

“Fuck!” Eliott is looking down at his guitar in horror. “Fuck, I am so sorry! Christ, fuck!”

“Eliott-”

“No, fuck. It sounded so good. I fucked it up. I’m sorry.”

“Eliott, dude. It’s no big deal.” Basile moves to place a hand on Eliott’s shoulder. “If only you knew the number of times Lucas has accidentally hit me in the face with a drum stick-”

“Yes. Accidentally.” Lucas cuts in, and it makes Eliott turn his head to look at him. His eyes are so sad, and Lucas is drowning. “But Bas is right, we all fuck up all of the time.” He glances over his shoulder with a pointed look. “In fact, if you hadn’t fucked up, I would have. Look where my drum stick is.”

“See? It’s alright, dude. Embrace your mistakes, because there’ll be plenty. From Lucas, especially. I’m surprised he hasn’t hit you with one stray stick in the past two months yet.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up Yann.” Lucas rolls his eyes, before turning to Eliott with a tentative grin. “It’s because I like your face. Unlike others’.”

Eliott grins back, a little bashfully and a lot more tamer than Lucas is used to from him, but he’ll take it for now. He’ll take whatever Eliott wants to give.

He can already see it becoming a problem.

“Thanks, guys. I just- yeah. I freaked out for a second.” Eliott huffs awkwardly. "It won't happen again."

"You're fine, dude." Basile consoles him.

Yann nods in understatement too, squeezing Eliott's shoulder once before returning back to his position, so Lucas bends to grab the wayward stick, getting back into position himself.

And then the glass door opens.

“Yo, Eliott!” Arthur shouts from the doorway. “You okay?”

Eliott startles at the mention of his name. His head turns towards the door. “Yeah, fine! Sorry for the breakdown.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing amazing, dude.”

“What about me?” Basile whines.

“Eh, you’re okay I guess.”

“Rude.”

“Okay, just wanted to check in. Keep it up guys! And much courage, Eliott. You’re gonna need it with these idiots.”

Eliott laughs lightly, the faint pink back in his cheeks, before smiling gently at Arthur. “Thanks. I will keep it in mind.”

“Joke’s on you, he’s part of us now. He joined the idiot side already.”

Eliott’s eyes clear instantly at Basile’s words, less of a storm in the middle of the ocean and more of a cloud after the worst poured down, and his lips curl up at the ends softly. Sometimes Lucas blesses Basile’s timing for things like this.

Eliott’s eyes search for Lucas’ immediately, and there’s something in them that has Lucas’ blood rushing to his face. Lucas only smiles at him just as softly, nodding in acknowledgement.

Eliott nods back.

***

From: Mama

And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them.

From: Mama

I miss you, my son. Bring me back a bottle of wine.

Lucas smiles fondly at his phone screen as he types out a response.

To: Mama

miss you too, mama. and i will.

love you.

They’ve been here for over a week and things have been… interesting. Good interesting, though. It’s their third album, and Lucas wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t used to this kind of luxury either. Compared to this, the other studio where they recorded their first album looks like a cardboard box.

He can’t complain. Countless sound rooms, brand new instruments (although Lucas misses his drum set) all for them to use, a backyard as big as his apartment, and a fucking pool out of all things. Plenty of shirtless Eliott running around the backyard in the afternoon sun, all happy and wet, so Lucas really doesn’t have much room to complain.

He hates himself a little for thinking like this. He just can’t help it; ever since Eliott came into his life, he can’t picture himself kissing someone else’s lips but his. Run his hands through someone else’s hair but his. Touch anybody but him the same way he’d like to be touched. And it shouldn’t be like this, he thinks, he shouldn’t be thinking about another person when he already has someone back home. Shouldn’t be thinking about a boy. A friend.

Yet he is, and he hates himself for it. And then he hates himself more when he thinks about Chloe, and he can’t find regret in his mind. Not for liking him. A boy. Not for liking Eliott. Because when you find someone like Eliott, you love them until the day you die, Lucas is sure. Not many things make sense for Lucas, but this does. Because Eliott is the type of person you would kill and die for, if only to see them smile; the person you’d cling to, until your very last breath, because they’re alive, and intoxicating and overwhelming in the best kind of way.

So he hates himself, but he likes Eliott more. And somehow that makes up for it.

Pocketing his phone in his sweatpants, he closes the door of his room silently. He walks down the hallway with slow, quiet steps, careful not to wake up the guys sleeping in the rooms next to his, and goes downstairs. Where the grand piano is.

He had seen it on the first day they got here, tucked in a far corner in the lounge room. It stood proudly by the tall windows, in all its white glory, that Lucas couldn’t help but give it a longing glance every time he passed by. His fingers have been itching to press down on its keys since the first day, but the occasion never arouse; either the guys were fucking around for too long downstairs, watching movies and playing board games, or he was too tired to think about sneaking off in the dead of the night. Until now.

He sits on the stool with his hands over the keys. And listens. Everything is quiet in the way only a summer night can be. He lets himself smile, the darkness in the room and the quiet of the night taking him to a calm state of mind, and then his fingers are moving. The pale moon illuminates the side of the piano, glimpses of white flashing on his hands when they move close enough in the direction of the window.

He’s missed this. A fleeting thought crosses his mind, that he should invest on a piano when he gets back to Paris, until it’s blank again. He gets high off this feeling. This feeling of complete numbness, nothingless that he thinks should make him feel isolated, but it doesn’t. It only relieves him.

“Lucas?”

His fingers slam down on the keys.

“Jesus Christ!” Lucas gasps, head snapping up. His eyes widen when he finds Eliott’s head poking out behind the couch. He clutches at his chest. “Fuck, dude. I’m going to tie a bell around your neck, you can’t keep doing this. I’m going to have a heart attack at 20.”

Eliott has the decency to smile sheepishly at him. “Sorry, it wasn’t my intention.” The moonlight shines on his face and dances around inside his eyes beautifully. “It just seems to happen.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Lucas huffs. He turns sideways in the stool to face Eliott. “What are you doing there?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Eliott explains after a second. He crosses his arms on the back of the couch, tucking his chin there. A strand of hair falls on his eyes, and Lucas desperately wants to touch. “I tried watching a movie but I don’t know where I left my earphones, and honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to look for them. So I came here, and then I crashed, apparently.” He shrugs. “Until the music woke me up.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Eliott says quietly, shaking his head, earnest eyes looking at Lucas. “It was beautiful. I would rather spend sleepless nights listening to you play than wasting my time dreaming.”

Lucas’ cheeks turn pink. He nods, thanking the dark for not giving him away, because he’s sure he’s got the answers of any question Eliott could ask etched in his skin in this moment. Instead, “Are you still stressed about the whole belonging thing?”

Eliott huffs out a laugh. “Well, when you call it like that...” Lucas wiggles his eyebrows at him, and Eliott laughs again. “But no, not really. Or a little, maybe, just the normal amount of stress I think.”

Lucas nods solemnly. “The normal amount of stress is good.”

“It is.” Eliott agrees with a small smile before his face turns somber. “You’re really cool guys, did you know?” He speaks, a little more timidly this time, playing with a thread on the couch. “You especially. You’re a good person, Lucas.”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from weeping. His body tingles all the way down to his toes at the way his name sounds coming from Eliott’s mouth. He’s never cared about his own name; just another name, the one he got at birth, he guesses. But when Eliott says it, it feels like falling in love, like it’s the only word he wants to hear for the rest of his life. It happens with everything Eliott says or does.

“So are you.” He answers back sincerely, voice going hoarse.

Eliott looks for his eyes in the dark, and Lucas lets himself get caught. They study each other in silence; it’s comfortable, and Lucas’ heart slows down to the point where he can’t hear it in his ears anymore. They stay like that until Eliott’s mouth falls open in a silent yawn.

Lucas takes notice of the drowsiness clouding Eliott’s eyes, and he bites back a fond smile. “Are you going back to your room? I can go if you want to stay here, I was the one making noise anyway.”

“No, no.” Eliott shakes his head slowly. “Stay, please. Could you play me something? So I can fall asleep faster?”

Lucas gives him a careful look. “Are you sure it won’t wake you up further again?”

“It won’t, promise. I just wasn’t expecting it the first time.”

“Well, okay then.” Lucas concedes. “You lie back down now, okay?”

“Okay.” Eliott nods, taking his arms off the back of the couch before disappearing out of Lucas' sight. “Good night, Lucas.”

Lucas smiles to himself, turning around in the stool. His fingers find the right keys to press on, and he does, slowly, softly, the room filling with quiet notes and warm melodies.

“Good night, Eliott.”

He plays until his hands ache, and Eliott sleeps.

***

“Why didn't you guys tell me how good Lucas is with the piano?”

Yann gives Eliott an odd look, and Lucas wants to drown himself in this pool.

“Because he isn’t?” Yann frowns.

“What? Yes he is.”

Lucas submerges himself deeper into the cool water, enough that if he breathes now he thinks he could fill his lungs with enough water that he’d get out of this conversation. He gives Eliott a urgent look, but Eliott is too busy staring at his best friend with a challenging expression to notice him.

“I mean, he’s not bad at it? Lucas dabbles in most instruments. As long as you can get something that resembles a melody out of it, Lucas will play it.” Yann explains, confused as to why Eliott is sending him a death glare. “But I didn't think it would be a conversation topic."

Lucas appreciates Eliott trying to defend his honor, he does, a lot and very enthusiastically if the tightness in his swimsuit means anything, but he would appreciate it more if he would just shut up this time.

Because him playing piano isn't common knowledge, because the guys met him at a time when things with his mama weren't good, and back then he had preferred to unload his anguish by beating up a set of drums than playing the piano. And the piano requires a delicate touch, and a quiet mind, both of which he didn't have at the time, so he quitted, and when he picked it up again it had been too late for him to say anything.

So he didn't.

He watches as Eliott's mouth opens to throw back a retort, but before he has the chance to, Lucas finds himself in Eliott's space.

"You don't-"

"What Eliott meant to say," Lucas cuts him off with a squeeze of his shoulder. "is that I deserve to be a conversation topic at all times."

Eliott looks at him with a quizzical expression, brows furrowed. "No, I-"

"Anyway, I'm going inside to get a beer. Do you guys want one?" Lucas pipes in again, giving Eliott a pointed look before turning to the guys with a wide grin. He signs the words to Arthur, who gives him an enthusiastic nod.

He can feel Eliott's confused eyes staring at his profile, but he doesn't look back. Instead he squeezes Eliott's shoulder a little more forcefully.

His hand slips a little, and that's when he realizes he's fully plastered to Eliott's very naked and very wet side. The realization turns his cheeks a faint pink, but he ignores it. Ignores how smooth Eliott's warm neck feels against his arm and how his skin shivers where their hips brush together; how he wants to lick the water droplets that cling to his eyelashes and roll down the side of his face, or the hand that tentatively travels to his own waist a few moments later.

His quiet gasp is drowned out by the guys' chorus of agreement as Eliott drums his fingers on his waist. He turns his head to look at him, startled by the touch, finding Eliott's soft smile directed at him.

Lucas smiles back stupidly, warmth coiling deep inside his belly.

"Lucas, dude? The beers?"

"Oh yeah, yeah." He shakes his head, taking a step back from Eliott. "Eliott, come help me out please?"

Eliott gives him a look filled with curiosity before giving in. "Sure," he says, and then he's guiding Lucas with a hand on the small of his back. "Let's go."

Lucas holds his breath the entire way into the kitchen, pretending the goosebumps arising in his body is from the slight afternoon breeze against his shoulders and not Eliott's hand on him.

"They don't know, do they?" Eliott asks once they're in the kitchen.

Lucas shuts the fridge closed with his hip and passes two beer bottles to Eliott.

"Nope."

"Don't worry." Eliott says with a glint in his eyes. He pushes past Lucas to grab a bag of chips from the shelf, his breath hot hitting the side of Lucas' face, making Lucas' breath catch. "I'll keep your secret."

And suddenly Lucas isn't sure if they're having the same conversation.

[c-atm]

Who the hell breaks into a prison? Let alone ' Megalomax' ?"

 

This was the question on everyone's mind and lips, inmates and staff alike, as they heard the carnage from the first floor. The sound and smell of rapid gunfire from pistols, assault rifles, and shotguns filled the air as alarmed flashed and blared all through the elite correctional center for the supernatural.  

 

Screams of officers resounded throughout the halls. Blood-curdling, pain-filled, last time alive screams, all followed by a feminine voice calling for her lover. Her call only brought more officers to her, soon finding herself surrounded by another battalion.

 

"Stand down!" A large man in Kevlar armor called out. Stepping closer to her, his voice full of authority and anger as he walked up to the hooded girl. 

 

"Hey, do you know where they’re keeping Bisky," The girl asked as she looked at the towering man. A small expectant look on her face. She smiled a bit when the man stepped back, fear on his face

 

"You…" he whispered in terror. " Oh God, you really survived?"

 

"Survived?" She tilted her head before her mouth opened in acknowledgment, her visible black eye narrowed as her grin grew. " You were there, weren't you.." She flicked her wrist, and a cloud in the form of a pink blade with a star hilt appeared, solidifying and transforming into an actual sword, once she grabbed the handle. "Yeah, I remember you. You led a whole battalion just like this to our home…" Her gleeful tone dropped to that of frigid tundra, and her eyes zeroed in on the large captain. " Then you let use a hailstorm of anti-magi bullets through our bedroom window." She started to step forward. "I still feel the heat searing and tearing my flesh, everything I lay in my lonely bed...It replays."

 

Another step forward. "The glass shattering."

 

Another " The Bloodstained sheets ."

 

Another. "The dragging of his unresponsive body after he protected mine."

 

She paused, placing her hand on her scarless abdominal. "The lost."

 

The captain felt his heart dropped; guilt overtaking his fear for the moment. "I...You were...You aren't supposed to be..."

 

"Another false assumption," she glared at the captain. "You fear what we're becoming. Even after we chose to run and hide...Create our own lives...You feared us, hunted us, and tried to eliminate us…" Before anyone could react, the girl grabbed the captain by his jaw and pulled him close, staring directly into his eyes. "All because you couldn't control us…" She sneered, "I know all of you, in your ivory towers, can see me through this group of lummoxes. So let me make  this clear."

 

'What just happened?'   was the thought of the Captain as sudden weightlessness hit him. He tried to speak, but all he could make was gargle and choke up words. He could not turn his head; he gawked as blood sprayed on his captor's brown face as her black eyes bore into his smokey gray ones.

 

"I'm going to get my Bisky; we're gonna burn this hellhole down..." She grinned widely. "Then we'll be moving on to you."  She increased her grip on the skull, crushing the jaw under force. "Congratulations, you got our attention, your little weapons are coming home, lucky you!"  She yelled as she threw the skull to the floor, watching the inorganic light fade from its eyes. She turned her head to the group that surrounded her, all of them too scared to make a move—the chilling look from before back on her face.

 

"Well... Show me where Steven Universe is kept, try your hand at taking me out, or run away. It's your damn choice." 

 

"It's gone silent." He mused as he sat in his cell, hands behind his head. He wasn't worried about the commotion up above, unlike the others. No...He knew what was happening. Who was doing it. He felt their presence every day since they pulled him from their bloody, bullet-filled bed and left her for dead. 

 

Every second of every day for the last two months, he felt her getting closer, attometer by attometer, and now...Now it was as if he was enveloped by it. So when everything went quiet and all the other fools were whispering about what could have gone down or if they killed the attacker. 

 

He stood up from his bed.

 

Washed his face and hair with the faucet in his cell. 

 

And waited patiently with his back to the force field. The fools will tell him when she's on this floor.

 

"Who's that?" "She's gonna join us in here?"  "She's the one who attacked?"  "Damn, baby. Help me outta here I'll give-

 

Steven smirked at the sounds of a console being destroyed and a garbled scream that filled the hall, followed by small whispers and the clacking of heels that got closer by the second.

 

"Bisky?"

 

He grinned at the reassuring voice as he turned to her, his heart soaring at the cloaked visage. "Hey, Berry."

 

"Wait, hold on!"  She called as she rammed her sword through the control console, destroying it and disengaging the yellow force field. 

 

"Ah, man...it's good to be-oof!" 

The large pink-skinned man was interrupted by the force of his lover, tackling into him with a desperate trembling hug. The feel of her tears on his torso from silent sobs shook him to his core as he held her back just as desperate.

 

"You're safe... It's been too long." She cried through tears before reaching up to his face with a gloved hand. "They didn't hurt you, right?" She looked at his pink bearded face with his small side smirk that displayed a few of his teeth, his pink mystifying pink eyes that, usually full of mischief, now held an endless well of love The way his brows were slanted inward, pressing the space between them a bit.

 

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Diamond Inc. at least knows how to treat their guests." He joked with a chuckle.

 

She growled, "That's not funny!" She clenched the back of his black shirt in her fist, holding him closer as if she was afraid she'd lose him again. "Not in the least."

 

"Yeah...Just trying to be playful."

 

"There are better ways, you know." The twinge of seductiveness in her voice brought his mischievousness to the front.

 

"Is that so?"

 

"Yeah. It is." She nodded with a grin, wholly immersed by his husky voice and their mutual affection. She hummed and felt his toes curled as he gave her passionate and urgent lip lock. She basked in the feeling of his palm caressing her cheek and the gentle yet carnal suckling and nibbling upon her upper lip as he pulled down her hood. After a few more 'Chu' making kisses, he took a good look at her now uncovered face.

 

Despite having blood splattered on her on the lower left half of her face, her large, black love-filled eye(the right one, the left was covered by an eye patch) shined like stars. Her brows rose as she displayed a broad, toothy smile that radiated endless adoration for her pink skin love.

 

"What?" She asked, voice full of bashfulness. The smile, never faltering as her cheeks heated up. 

 

"You are so damn Beautiful, Cloudy ." He grinned before stroking her left cheek. "Even when you're  messy."  He held his index finger up to show her the blood he wiped off.

 

 "Oh...I can't believe I finally saw you and I'm such a mess. "she flushed, turning around, hands on her cheeks. "Just give me a moment to- Mm~MmhAahh!!"

 

She was interrupted by him slipping his arms around her waist as he sucked and bit on her collarbone. Her hand instantly found his nape, keeping him in place as she shivered in bliss. " Rosey," She moaned in arousal and yearning.

 

"I missed you, Cloudy." He hungrily whispered into her skin as he trailed his manipulations upward toward the back of her ear.

 

"I missed...haha." Her chest and breath hiked when he hit a particular spot. "You as well, Rosey. So much." She leaned into him, sighing. "We..have to stop..WOOHOHO..." She bit her lip before pulling her neck away but staying in his arms, looking at him in his eyes before pecking his lips. " We'll continue this later...I promise, but we have to leave before.."

 

"Freeze!"

 

The reunited lovers turned their sight to a team of armed guards, ready to strike them down. 

 

The two looked at each other and silently agreed on their course of action. After sharing one more kiss, the two gave the group their full attention.

 

It would later be reported that Megalomax correctional center was burned to ashes. The news articles worldwide would show the image of the place ablaze, with the silhouette of an unknown couple engaging in an intimate act in front of the flames.   

[callmefitz]

Two Weeks Ago, Today - Rumir Fic 4.1k words

Amir character study poorly disguised as a Rumir kidnap fic. Mild blood/injury description, hurt/comfort, happy ending and fluff.

(Forgive my lack of read below, I’m new and don’t know how to add a cutoff)

When Amir returned back to their room, Rupert was gone. The sheets were tousled and pushed back in typical Rupert fashion, something Amir has resigned to believing will never change. The windows were pushed open ever so slightly, allowing for some morning sunlight to spill onto the messy desk. Rupert’s desk, with unanswered correspondences, still cluttered the edges. He knew Rupert probably just got up when he left to check security with Joan. But still, the image from two weeks ago today still flashed in his mind.

The rain was roaring in his ears as Amir clambered back to bed. He loved Fitzroy, he loved Rupert... but when Fitzroy had to go the whole castle had to know.

“Rupert?” Amir whispered conspiratorially. Maybe tonight they sneak out to have a date night in the kitchens. With the rescheduled wedding on the way and the completion of the castle, they barely had time to each other anymore. They only really saw each other at night, when no reasonable person would request their counsel.

“Rupert...” Amir whispered again as his eyes adjusted to the dark, searching for the sleeping form of his fiancé. As the downpour intensified, a singular strike of lightening illuminated the room like daylight to reveal a horrifyingly gruesome sight.

The sheets and blankets were in knots on the floor, as if they were kicked and twisted as something was torn from them. The books on their desk were strewn about the floor. One of the swords resting in a rack above their bed was missing, left on the floor with a singular red stripe running along the sharp end and a few splatters beside it. The wrought-iron window overlooking the heartlands was bent beyond recognition as if claws sunk into it and pullled. Shards of glass glittered wet and sharp on the floor like diamonds.

Amir suddenly couldn’t breathe.

“Rupert?” He yelled, but the room was deserted. Already there were footsteps running to their room, he had probably altered half the castle by now, no matter, Rupert was gone... he was gone and-

“Your Majesty,” Sir Joan exhaled as she pushed open the door, torch in hand. For a moment Amir wished what he had seen was a nightmare, but the same scene greeted him cast in the sinister warm lighting.

“Oh Guiniverre,” he heard her whisper. Rupert was gone... someone had taken him right in his own home. He was gone and hurt and probably-

“Amir?” Rupert said softly, and Amir whipped around. Standing in the morning sunlight, Rupert leaned against the doorframe with a silver breakfest tray in hand. His eyes were tired and worn and his skin was pale, but underneath the horrors of the last two weeks he was still the same Rupert he’s always been. Amir released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Rupert still was.

He didn’t realize he was crying until a pale hand cupped his cheek, stalling tears in their wake. He held it to his face, feeling its warmth against his face. Fingers that, two weeks ago today, were bloodied and bruised beyond recognition. Now they were porcelain pale and un-Rupertly soft. They were still his. They were still alive.

Small wonders.

The silver breakfest tray was long abandoned, set off to the side and growing colder by the minute. Without words, they slowly moved to the bed, the hand not leaving his face. They sat near the foot, in the safety of the warm sunrise, for a few silent moments.

“Amir... you gotta talk to me here. What’s going on in that big ol head of yours?” Rupert said, so so softly, as if Amir was the one who was taken.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good head, a very nice head. Lots of hair on it, some pretty eyes, a left dimple that you show off all the time... very nice head, but not transparent.” Rupert rambled, and Amir laughed, his throat barbed with tears.

“I was a mess when you were gone,” Amir mumbled after a prolonged silence.

Rupert pulled away and regarded Amir for a few minutes. His face was drawn up in sadness, a loving silence, a deep compassion.

“Well, I think you did pretty ok.” He finally said, gathering Amir’s hands in his. “I mean, look at us. You saved me. We’re home. I have breakfest in bed with me and Fitzroy is still asleep. Normally this would call for a celebration.”

There was still a shadow of a bruise on Rupert’s cheek. Another reminder of Amir’s failure to do one right thing.

Two weeks ago today, Amir sat in this same place, his hands in fists by his side. The rain had long subsided, and Fitzroy sat his head on the bed longingly. He scratched his head, but it didn’t fill the void. Rupert was gone.

“Percy is leading a scan of the castle in case they’re still in the walls. I have Cecily leading the new recruits through the city and outer bands looking for evidence. Until we hear back, however, there’s only so much we can do,” Joan looked down at Amir with sadness in her eyes, “Hey.”

Amir met her gaze.

“He’s going to be ok.” She smiled, more to convince Amir than herself. There was almost nothing to go by, no notes or discernible trace of a captor. The room was a bloody mess, with splatters on the lower half of the walls and pooling around the untouched sword. Rupert’s sword. The sword of the west.

“Joan, I really appreciate your optimism, and I know we aren’t close so I may be over-stepping here, but please cut the crap.” Amir said sharply, “I know we have nothing. The guards have already cleared the castle. The watchmen in the outer bands have reported no exit or entry. He’s gone.”

“Guiniverre, he’s gone.” Amir’s resolve crumpled. His fingers dug into his hair as he pressed his palms in his eyes. He took a few deep, shuddery breaths before continuing in a painfully monotone speech.

“I just.... I really need Rupert right now. I need him. He always knows what to do. I always tease him for over-reacting... but at least he has plans! I’m no good at this, and we have nothing to work with. No trace. He’s just gone.”

Something stirred within Joan. She knows the hollow feeling, the guilty helpless. Except she’s had the luxury of false alarms thus far. Her eyes couldn’t help but to wander again toward The empty slot above the bed, where the western sword once hung. Now only the eastern one remained, and it was hauntingly incomplete without the other. “I-“

“It’s my fault. Rupert is awful with a sword. I meant to teach him, I really did. We’ve just been so busy, and with peace talks in the North and trade in the South we both agreed it would be pointless in the short term. If I had-“

“Considering the number he did, he isn’t completely awful with a sword,” Joan said with a smile and faux amiability, then lost it when she saw Amir’s composure. He was right. They weren’t particularly close, Rupert was the bridge between them with his friendship with Cecily. They saw each other in passing, exchanged commentary, but never had the chance of be alone together without a crisis.

Judging my Amir’s face, or lack therefore of, they were in another crisis.

“This isn’t your fault, Prince Amir,” Joan said forcefully. She sat next to Amir on the bed, and after a moment’s hesitation rested her open palm on his back. Something grounding.

“But it kind of is,” Amir brought his face up, “It can’t be coincidence that they came while I was gone. They must have been watching us all night... waiting for me to leave. They knew they couldn’t take us both. There’s no way-“

“No way you could have known,” Joan corrected the thought before it rose.

The rain continued its onslaught, and in the darkness Rupert felt farther and farther away from Amir.

“We shouldn’t be celebrating until your limp is gone.” Amir said with finality, breaking from the memory and entering the present. His hands left Ruperts and rested below his shoulders, “Seriously. Is your pain returning?”

Rupert pushed him aside and smiled wearily. His eyes were still half-lidded and dreamy with sleepiness from his medicine, “You’re worse than my mother. Amir, I’m fine. It’s ok. You saved the day in the end.”

“Hardly feels like it,” Amir laughed, but there was no jot behind it.

Rupert sighed.

“You know, when you and Joan finally found me, I was so exhausted and sweaty and gross and in a world of pain. I thought I was going to pass out,” he began.

Amir’s face fell into concerned pain, “Rupert-“

“But when I heard you dismount your horse and come running up, it was like I was meeting you all again. When you burst through that tent, it was like kissing you for the first time.”

Rupert was a total sap.

“I think we remember it differently then,” Amir said dryly, “because when I saw you, I was thinking a lot of not good words.”

Rupert smiled, “Well, duh. They were jerks. But you have to realize, Amir, I was terrified.”

Amir tensed.

“I was hurt and lost and stuck with a bunch of jerks and also thinking not good words, but when I saw you it all went away. I knew you were going to save me. At that moment, I was going to be ok.”

“Then you passed out,” Amir added.

“Well, then I actually did pass out.” Rupert agreed. “But you did saved me Amir. The window is fixed and Joan told me the minute I can walk the Castle circuit without a limp she’s going to have me run sword drills so much that I’ll collapse. We’re stronger and safer and happy again.”

“Are we?” asked Amir, “because everytime you leave me sight it’s like I can’t breathe again.”

Rupert pulled Amir close.

“The castle should have been safe to begin with. We should have trained more often. Something like this was bound to happen-“ Amir rambled, as Rupert hooked his arms around his neck and unceremoniously flopped backwards on the bed, taking Amir with him with an oof. He pushed himself slightly away, as if the fall somehow opened up all those nasty wounds.

“I’m serious, Rupert,” Amir continued, “You act like everything is fine, and maybe for you it is, but it wasn’t for me. You didn’t see it! You didn’t see our room and what those thugs were planning... you didn’t see yourself half-alive and drenched in blood. I saw it, and I still see it. It won’t go away.”

A part of Rupert wants to be mad. After all, he was the one who was taken. He was the one bound to a post in a stuffy old tent at the mercy of former Eastern kingsmen. But watching Amir, seeing the guilt in his eyes whenever Rupert’s step faltered, the detached expression when night fell and they lay silent in bed, the cold determination that filled his voice when passing new security policies; sure, Rupert was the one taken, but Amir was left behind. That alone was a different type of torture, and right now was his time to speak of it. This was only the first conversation of many.

Amir is crying now, harder than before. Somehow he felt shame in that- he rarely cries, even when it’s just Rupert.

“Rupert you’re... you’re my everything. I don’t think I could live without you... and that scares me. It scares me so much.”

“‘Mir,” Rupert said softly. His own eyes were wet with tears and he shuffled closer until their hands could interlock. The morning sunlight glinted off the two circular bands adoring their fingers. Engagement rings. A formality from the East that promised a lifetime together. For a moment neither of them said anything. For a moment it was as if it were two weeks ago, right before Amir left to relive Fitzroy and there was no concept of fear in the dark. For a moment their weakness remained concealed. A moment that lasted that lifetime tenfold.

“How are you ok with this?” Amir asked after an eternity.

This. This chasm that the last two weeks drew between them. The sleepless nights full of painful groans. The long days where he was barely conscious and breathing, miles away from home. The stormy night where he woke up alone and scared, and blindly attempted to fight off his attacker with a sword he barely knew how to wield.

“I’m not,” Rupert replied, barely above a whisper, “I almost didn’t get out of bed.”

Amir took a moment to absorb that information and turn it over in his mind.

“While you went to check with Joan, I considered one-hundred and twenty-nine reasons why I shouldn’t leave our bedchamber. All of them ended up with that tent. I think I hate tents now. I really hope you secretly aren’t a camping guy, because unless it’s a life or death situation I’m not going inside a tent again. No sir. You should call me No-Tent-“

“Rupert-“ Amir began.

“Exactly! But as I was saying, I thought of so many reasons why I shouldn’t get out of bed today. But then I thought of you, and how you’re probably exhausted, and then my stomach started grumbling, and I decided today I was going to get breakfest for us. So I did.”

“And you just, did it?” Amir looked away, to the window. Reinforced with dragon’s steel. Lavinia saw to it that the panes were too small off even a mouse to fit through if broken, so now the kaleidoscope window threw colors on the walls, floors, and bed of the room. Rupert’s face was tossed in a brilliant shade of blue.

“I didn’t just do it. First I counted to one-hundred and twenty-nine. Then I took my sword off the wall and debated bringing it with me. But Porridge doesn’t like weapons, so I put it back.” Rupert began carding his fingers through Amir’s hair, “Then I called for Cecily because my leg was so stiff, and she can throw knives scarily well so I decided she was much better than a lousy sword...”

The itemized description of Rupert’s morning was more to fodder the oppressive silence and diffuse any latent guilt via distraction that anything else. It must have worked, for as he went on the tears began drying and Amir’s stiff shoulders slowly went undone.

“... there was this whole thing with like, jam or marmalade? It was a whole debacle, then I couldn’t get a good grip on the tray and almost dropped it, which was a disaster. But we got back and I saw Cecily on her way and walked in, where I saw my brave, perfect fiancé on the verge of tears and decided that just wouldn’t do.”

Amir didn’t reply.

“I’m not fine, Amir. As much as you hate walking into a room without me, I hate waking up in a bed without you. I’m still really, really scared,” Rupert said, “But I don’t want this to break us. I can’t be scared to get breakfest. I’ve spent too much of my life being scared to do that.”

Amir adjusted on the bed so that he lay on his back with his head tucked underneath Ruperts chin.

“I think you’re pretty brave,” Amir announced after a moment of deliberation.

One week ago today, nothing but the thunderous, vengeful drumbeat of hooves and the air whistling past filled Amir’s ears. Joan was beside him, equally engaged in the chase, leaning forward and slightly standing on the back of her horse. Ahead, Fitzroy and Porridge led the trail, and behind some of Joan’s best recruits filled the rear.

Looming above were the Southern Caves, a cavernous mountain range cutting off the Heartlands from the Southern Tribes. Due to its intemperate climate and inaccessibility to law enforcement on either sovereignty, it was a breeding ground for crime, piracy, and highwaymen of all shapes and sizes.

Amir didn’t like to imagine himself engulfed in anger or acting out of hate. But if this lead ended up being false as well and Rupert isn’t there, he may skewer someone.

In other words, he pressed onwards with resolute determination. Meanwhile, Joan held out her arm to signal to Amir and the guild to slow.

“When we reach the overpass, me and my women will surround the suspects,” she said, assertively yet low enough that Amir strained to hear her, “You will survey the surrounding area and get to Rupert if he’s there.”

A hottness flared inside Amir, “But-“

Joan silenced him with a simple look, “If Rupert is here, he’ll need you the most.”

Ahead of him, Amir could hear the soft murmur of men talking around a campfire. Hints of smoke permeated the air around them, and through the foliage he could see flickers of light. They were so close. Joan raised her arm to signal readiness. Like a blade cutting air she thrust it forward, and with deadly silence the small army burst through the edge of the forest and into the bowels of the Southern Overpass.

The reaction was immediate. Laid before him was a modest camp, with well-established tents, bounds, and fires. Rage seethed within Amir- while he had been searching, they hadn’t even moved. The inhabitants, rough-looking men and women with a glint of former nobility in their eyes and sword, reached for whatever nearby weapon lay unattended and attempted battle. Joan’s recruits were as ruthless as they were capable- they quickly apprehended the band with a firm sense of duty and exceptional efficiency.

But Rupert wasn’t there.

Amir lept from his horse, hitting the ground with a dull thud as he took off toward the tents. He tore open the flaps of the first one. Empty. The second one. Empty. Blood rushed in his ears. The third one. Empty. Tears pricked at his eyes. The fourth one. Empty. He had to be here. The fifth one-

It took a moment for Amir to realize he was looking at his husband. Maybe because he had never seen him truly hurt before- they had both been roughed up, sure, but none of their adventures had ever turned disastrous. Maybe it was that, or the fact that Amir hadn’t truly accepted Rupert was gone until he was found.

“Rupert,” Amir breathed. The tent was stuffy and cramped, with odd and rotting furniture bordering the walls. A haphazard interrogation chamber was constructed with mis-matched chairs, with old food trays discarded near a corner. The smell alone was enough to turn any self-respecting man away.

“Hey ‘Mir,” Rupert half-whispered with a smile. Rupert, who was tied kneeling with his back to a post. Rupert, with a purple bruise reaching up his face up to his cheekbone. Rupert, with clumpy hair and watery eyes. Rupert, with bloodied knuckles and a half-rasp in his voice. Rupert, who was alive.

Amir sunk to the ground, knees hitting the dry earth with a thud and tiny clouds of dust. Both of his hands reached for Rupert, cupping both of his cheeks in his hands before sliding down to his shoulders; a cursory assessment. He tugged lightly at the rope binding Rupert’s shoulders, finding no give. His eyes then cast downwards toward Rupert’s leg, which was bent awkwardly out to the side.

“I’m fine, really,” Rupert said softly, “Just tripped.”

“Just tripped?” Amir echoed. He wanted to say more, but Rupert doubled over in pain, or as much as he could when forced upright, and groaned.

“We’re getting you out of here,” Amir said, mostly to himself, before retrieving a small dagger from his belt and begin cutting through the rope. It wasn’t a clean slice like he anticipated- it was thicker and more resilient than what it seemed- and took several seconds to cut. When it finally did break, Rupert slumped forward into Amir’s chest. He was a dead weight.

“Rupert?” Amir said. When the other didn’t respond, Amir gently pushed Rupert off him. His eyes were closed; he didn’t stir.

Fear gripped Amir’s heart. He let Rupert lean against him, feeling for the pulse in his wrist the steady puffs of air against his neck. Both were weak. He snaked an arm up Rupert’s back, threading his hand in the other’s hair and holding him close before leaping into action.

“Ok, ok,” Amir said softly, “It’s ok.”

He threw one of Rupert’s arms over his back and across his shoulder and held his other hand under Rupert’s armpit and pulled both of them up. When Rupert remained limp, he hooked his foot around Rupert’s leg- the good one- and walked for the both of them.

The sun was piercingly bright and equally hot when they both emerged from the center tent. Perspiration beaded over Amir’s brow, equally from the heat and stress. In a slow hobble towards Joan and the others, they pushed closer to freedom and further from the tent. One head low, the other upright and straining. When the rest of the recruits spotted them leaving the circle of tents, two young lady knights rushed to them to help. One helped support Rupert, the other with a bag of medicinal supplies sent by Lavinia.

As part of the illusion of normalcy, Lavinia saw to it that the West had excellent healthcare.

Together they laid Rupert in the shade of a particularly aged oak tree, where the two recruits (one a cousin of Cecily and the other a former lady in waiting for his mother) began to stint, bandage, and clean any of Rupert’s wounds. Amir felt useless yet again- while he knew basic first aid for prophetic reasons, performing it on someone else felt wildly different. In addition, most of his knowledge was based on what to do in the moment. Most of the marks marring his fiance were given a headstart of two or three days before introduced to gauze.

By either instinct or selfish need, Amir grabbed for Rupert’s hand. It was sticky with sweat and discolored slightly, but it was still his; his blood ran through it just like it did two weeks prior. Helplessness consumed Amir like a wave again. Protection was the foundation in which Amir’s core values were cultivated on. Protect his country, protect his people, protect his loved ones. If he couldn’t keep Rupert safe, then who could he protect? If he couldn’t protect Rupert...

Amir didn’t pretend things weren’t as serious as they were. If they had come a week later.. even days... Rupert’s health would have been scores worse. There wouldn’t be enough medicine in Lavinia’s bag to treat him on site.

The words of a particular bold suspect pulled him from his guilt.

“You’re just as foolish as your mother,” one of the men sneered, “Your father would be disgusted to have you as a son.”

His arms were bound behind his back, yet his impressive stature and scarred body proved that simple rope wouldn’t contain him for long. He was old- older than Amir, most likely a noble elevated to aristocracy by Amir’s father due to similar values and pugnacious tendencies. Despite this, he was a sad man. He didn’t know love nor longed to learn about it- any kindness in his soul had been long extinguished by a raw bitterness against the world and a hardened heart. He was grasping for straws in a blind attempt to recreate the past; his father’s past, built on the corpses of innocent people for the sake of expansion and greed.

Amir pitied the man. He wanted to say a thousand words in response; some of anger, revenge, debate, and instruction, but instead he only said one: “Good.”

The hand in his squeezes, and Amir is brought back to modern day. He leans into Rupert’s chest, listening to the steady heart beat and deep breaths that recently lost their rattle. The sun pours through the new windows, stronger windows, splashing a rainbow of colors across the bright room. Not a single cloud dots the sky: it would be another beautiful day. Rupert is alive- a wonder, a gift, a miracle- and Amir never wishes to be apart from him again. Maybe that is unhealthy, but right now, in this moment, not a single thing could tear him away.

Rupert is Amir’s everything, and Amir is Rupert’s universe.

“Amir?” Rupert says softly. Amir closes his eyes.

“Mm?”

“I think you’re pretty brave, too.”

[jiminspjm]

Save me + J. Jungkook

Slytherin!Jungkook x Ravenclaw!Reader

Genre- Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Smut (Hogwarts!au)

Warnings: Oral (Female) , Fingering, Spanking, Guks massive pp, The OC whines a lot, Rough sex, cock warming, a lot of cum oops, impregnation kink? Kinda, nipple play, bondage, dirty talk, name calling, very very brief hair pulling, did i mention spanking??, this is my first time writing smut pls be kind ;-; , is that all? For warnings? Also brief mention of injuries and brief peril

Word Count: 13.9k  (i am so sorry)

Early November air whipped around in gusts of wind on the castle grounds, and all through the corridors. You pulled up the blue and muted grey scarf tighter around your neck- your nose was turning red due to the harsh cold. Pulling your dry hands into the sleeves of your large grey jumper, you kicked a loose stone with your high top converse. The black and white shoes were an early gift from your parents. Chilly air poked through the holes in your jeans, as you walked down the steps towards Hagrid’s cabin. The messenger bag slung around your body slapped lightly against your hip as you jogged across the damp field of grass and through the familiar garden of the giant.

Bowing slightly to Buckbeak- the hippogriff in which you adored, you rapped your knuckles lightly against the large, wooden door. Hearing a few heavy footsteps, the door then swung open revealing a very overly dressed Hagrid- in an atrocious orange tie.

Holding back a giggle, you looked up at the man and smiled.

“Hello Hagrid,” you said in a quiet voice, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

“Y/n! How are yer? Come in it’s freezin’,” He said in his deep voice as he opened the door wider to allow you to come in. Shuffling forward, you walked into the small hut; warmth immediately. Fang sat in the corner, a deep nasally snore coming from him.

“Aye sorry I can’t stay long, but I appreciate ye watching Fang while I am away fer the week.” Pulling the scarf away from your neck a bit you shrugged.

“You know you never need to ask Hagird. I am always happy to watch Fang, and besides this is important for Buckbeak, and you of course.” You said sitting in one of the large rocking chairs, feet barely touching the ground.

Nodding vigorously, “Ah- always so kind ye are, aye should be back in two days.”He stated grabbing his umbrella and various parchments. Nodding you smiled and gave a thumbs up. Closing the door, it was just you and silence.

Oh and well Fangs constant snoring of course.

The sound of Fang’s insensitive barking startles you to awaken. Jolting from your sleeping position on the large pillow by the fireplace, which was now dimmed and only auburn embers remained. Sitting up, the astrology book in which was in your lap fell with a soft thud, pushing your messy hair out of your face, you blinked a bit rubbing your eyes behind your large circular glasses. The lavender marble frames- in which you only wore alone- fell on the dip of your nose. Hastily pulling them off, you grabbed your wand and whipped your head over to fang.

“Fang!”, you whisper shouted, getting up of the floor, the array of blankets tangling in your feet as you struggled to get up. He continued to bark inquisitively at the closed door. Furrowing your brows you walked over the gripped the brass knob; holding the over sized mutt back a bit. Peeking your head out the door- the garden was dark, the sky lit only by the full moon and stars. Torches lit the castle grounds above the slope of the hill, which were a bit blurry due to your lack of glasses. The Whomping Willow was silent, branches moving with the slight breeze. Scanning the garden once more, something seemed off. 

Barely stepping out the door, Fang quickly took the opportunity and sprinted between your legs making you lose balance and fall forward onto the damp ground. 

“Oof,” was the sound that came out of your mouth as you fell face first on the dirt. Pain shot up your nose briefly, not having time to register the damage to your body you quickly rolled over and looked to see Fang running towards the Forest. Eyes widening you ran towards him in a jumble of limbs.

“Fang! Fang stop!”, shouting desperately at the dog as you unknowingly ran into the danger of the forest. 

Trees blurred past you, the dark mingled behind the wide trees as they casted a shadow over the moon. 

“Lumos!” you said as you ran forward more, and more until your lungs hurt, shouting the dogs name multiple times. After what felt like hours, you found Fang in an opening by a frozen lake. Coming to a stop and huffing a bit, puffs of the chilly night came out, pinching your cold cheeks.

“Fang thank good-,” You stopped, mid-sentence with your mouth wide open, multiple wolves surrounded him. The grimy, grey fur, slick with dirt and dew. There were about 7 of them, all teeth bared and growling at the other dog before them. Shaking a bit, you opened your mouth and thought nothing came out but oh boy you were wrong.

“Hey! You mutts!,” the growling stopped momentarily as they whipped their heads towards you, mouth pulled back once again into a snarl. Pulling a dung bomb from your pocket, thank god for Ron’s brothers; you held it in-front of you. “Come and get me.” 

Throwing the bomb onto the ground, it went off into an abyss of thick smoke, as you ran the diagonal through the smoke and around the pond. Snarls and whines emitted from the haze. Running pass the smoke with ease, you spotted Fang running the other way.

“Fang!” Immediately he stalled from his running and shot over to you, running beside him and halting for a second- breath ragged. 

“Fang! Go please! Go get help!” you pleaded with the dog then you continued to run deeper into the forest, the dog stalled and whimpered-but immediately retraced back sensing the distraction was clearing up and the wolves weren’t happy. 

Hearing his paws run the opposite direction, you continued to run and didn’t stop. The wolves weren’t too far behind you, hearing the leaves and rock being kicked up from the ground. Tears welled your vision, 

“Reducto!” You cried as a burst of white fell from the tip of your wand, blasting into a tree, turning back for a split second- the dead tree narrowly missed the wolves as they were still on your trail. 

Shutting your eyes briefly you willed your legs to go a bit faster, the back of your shoes nearly hitting your thighs as you ran to anywhere.

Please. You thought. 

Distracted by your thoughts, the wolf behind you took advantage of your distraught and pulled the back of your pant leg, biting in the skin of your calf. 

A scream ripped through your mouth as you fell forward onto the ground, your illuminated wand dropping in the process. Hands grabbing the earth beneath you, as the wolf held onto your leg and dragged you across the ground. Eyes welling with tears, you thrashed and kicked and screamed. The last bit of adrenaline hit you as you kicked the wolf in the face, his grip loosening as you launched forward and made a strangled grab for your wand. Vision going fuzzy, your hands barely grazed the cool wood before the wold pounced on your back. Screaming in agony you tried to push it off you but it snarled and bit at you. Flipping onto your back as you thrashed your head back and forth to avoid getting bitten, with the little strength you had you pushed the wolf of you- not before it got a clean slash against the smooth expanse of your cheekbone.

A sob ripped through your throat as you stumbled and pushed back on the heels of your shoes. The growling intensified as you looked up to see a jet black, figure jump above you- teeth bared and the matted fur was the last thing you saw as you held up your hands in front of your face. Eyes held shut for the second - feeling the dingy fur brush your hand for a split second, then it was gone.

“Stupefy!” a voice echoed through the abyss of the forest. A whine ripping through the air as the wolf fell off to the side of you. Multiple spells were being shot, but you kept your arms blocked in front of you. What felt like hours, eventually the snarling and the voice stopped.

Silence.

Breathing heavily, you removed your arms from your face, mouth parted as you looked at the carnage before you- wolves all laid on the damp forest floor. Scooting back a bit you felt dizzy all of a sudden- the adrenaline finally wearing off as you became fully aware of the dull ache in your calf. Eyes fluttering shut, your body began to submit to the spots darkening your vision. 

“Shit, y/n!” it was the voice again, shaking your head a bit, you felt a dull thud in the back of your skull. A few seconds passed and then large hands cupped your face, blinking through the pain you looked up at your savior.

“Jungkook?” You said with bewilderment in your voice, your words slightly slurred. You could somewhat make out the outline of his sharp jawline and smooth skin in the dark but other than that you only heard his voice. 

“Hey, y/n stay with me, c’mon,” he said, lifting you up into his embrace. Warmth immediately enveloped you. “C’mon love, you can make it,”

“Jeon.” You whispered.

Before the spots intermingled and made darkness. 

--

Slowly blinking, you began to open your eyes. The morning light blinded you a bit as it shone through the drapery-little flecks of dust falling slowly in the light. Blinking a few more times you woke up. Rubbing your eyes, you looked up at the rafters, the light oak cris-crossing. Confused you sat up but immediately regretted your decision, feeling lightheaded. 

You were in the infirmary, the smell of disinfectant welcomed you. Blinking a few times, you then recalled last nights events, sparking through your mind harshly. 

Fang.

Wolves.

Bite.

Jungkook.

Shuffling slightly between the thick, off-white sheets, you pulled the covers off your legs, wincing a bit as you looked at your calf. It was wrapped in thick, white, bandages, making it hard to move your leg. You peered down at it and wiggled your toes a bit. 

Well those still work at least. 

Looking around you, the privacy stands were up around you, even though it seemed as if you were the only student present. Looking at your bedside table, a glass of water was present. Grabbing the cool glass between your finger tips, you quickly drank it, the coolness settling in your throat. Pulling the cup away from your mouth you set it down on the table. Well almost.

The gods decided to fuck you over and of course you miss that inch off the table and the glass shatters on the floor. The sound resonated a bit loudly through the infirmary. Squinting a bit, you didn’t want too make a fuss and call for help, you got up carefully out of the bed. The morning air nipped a your bare legs, the blue hospital gown fell slightly off your shoulder, as the material went down below your knee. Hobbling on the uninjured foot- you bent down and began to pick up the shards of glass. Wishing you had your wand you knew this could be an easy fix but again, the gods hated you this day.

About to pick up the last shard, a quiet tug of the privacy stand doesn’t make way to you ears. The doe-eyed boy looks at you in amusement. Clearing his throat for a second, he grabs your attention.

You squeak and whip around, the glass falling from your palm. Your hands grip the table behind you, as you look at the young man who now stands in front of you. Your eyes are wide, as you take in his appearance.

Clean black and white converse, lead up to black slacks held up by a black belt. A green and silver turtle-neck sweater hugs his muscular figure well, which is under a white medic coat. Rings adorn his veiny hands, as it grips onto a clipboard. Looking up at him, his hair is black and wavy, slightly falling into his eyes. The circular glasses rest on his pert nose. 

Blinking again, you feel warmth creep up your cheeks. As you blink for what it feels like the millionth time. 

Jungkook grins his bunny looking smile at you. Cute. 

All of a sudden, you feel a stinging sensation on your cheekbone, flinching you bring your fingers up to it. What the-!

Footsteps stride to you quickly, looking up Jungkook grabs your hand and pulls you forward, yelping at the sudden intrusion, you lose footing on your bad leg and fall into him. His hand holding the clipboard drops it on the bed, as he makes haste to stabilize you. 

“Whoa,” he says a laugh bubbling in his throat, as his large palm grips your waist and lowers you on the bed. Blinking again, you look at him as he still holds your wrist in his hand.

Looking at you intently, he grazes his finger tips on your jawline as he turns your cheek; his bottom lip in between his teeth. You feel a warmth creep up your neck, as you cast your eyes down from his look. 

Sighing, he excuses him self for a moment. Confused you wait patiently as he returns with a swab and a bottle of some sort of oil. 

“Sorry love,” he mumbles dipping the swab in the minty smelling oil, “this is gonna sting a bit.” 

Nodding, you hold your breath from the nickname he says to you but as well as the quick pain that you are about to feel. He shuffles forward a bit and dabs the cool oil on the cut. Biting your lip as you whimper a bit, he mumbles a ‘sorry’ and hurries.

Looking up at him as he finishes, he smiles at you, heat fills your cheeks again. Geez woman get a grip. Clearing your throat, you speak for the first time. 

“Um t-thank you. For saving me.” You say shyly gripping the fabric of your hospital robe in between your fingers. Looking up at him, he nods and quirks a one sided smile. 

“You’re lucky I found you __. No, you’re lucky I was walking back from the train station and Fang found me.” He says as he scribbles notes on the clipboard. You look down at your hands as they clench the fabric. He continues, “You are also very fortunate you came out only with a week on crutches, and a scar on your cheek.”

Your hand reached up and touched the healing wound on your cheekbone. Scrunching your brows a bit- you look at him, “But can’t you just heal the injuries I-I,” he shakes his head, the silver hoops in his ears slightly swinging. 

“...these were werewolves, thank god; it wasn’t the last phase of the moon cycle, or you could have been transformed or worse-,” He breaths through his nose, and sighs. Head held low, you nod at his words.

“__, shit. I was worried okay? I know we don’t talk a lot, and that you’re very shy, and I just-,” The young man stumbles on his words. Looking up at him, you smile- a closed mouth one.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Jungkook. I am glad you came to my aide despite us not being close friends,” You say with sincerity. And you did mean it. You didn’t have many friends, considering the fact that you were quiet and sometimes shy. Hermione took a liking to you immediately due to your interests in academics, other than that though- you kept to yourself. 

Jungkook stared at you for a few moments, his bottom lip held in between his lips as if he wanted to say something, but all he did was give a simple nod. 

“Alright, I suppose. You’re free to go, Hermione should be bringing you your clothes.. yeah.” His words wandering off as he looked down at his clipboard. Internally sighing, you decide to bite your tongue wishing you could just admit you don’t mind being saved- as long as he is always there to catch you. 

The crutches that you had to use felt like they were becoming more and more of a hassle than help. Getting out of bed was less enjoyable than usual, and navigating around the castle grounds was impossible. You sighed as you laid in bed, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. The midnight blue drapery moved a bit- the windows were open and sent a slight breeze into the room.

Yawning, you sat yourself up and hobbled over to the large window, sticking your head slightly out, something cold bopped your nose. Startled you blinked for a sec and used the back of your jumper sleeve to wipe at the sudden wetness.

“What the-,” you mumbled as you looked up, icicles littered the awning above you. The slick ice dripped down in a steady pattern, calm. Breathing, the cool air fell from your mouth in short breaths. Eyes wide you looked in front of you.

Thick, white snow was casted on the lake and train tracks, it traveled to the mountains, little spots of vegetation sticking out beneath it. Flecks of snow fell carefully as they stuck to the bricks of the castle. You laughed and breathed in the cool, clean air. Taking it in as long as you could, you then remembered today was the Hogsmead trip, but due to your injury you weren’t going to be able too attend. Sighing, as a sweltering disappointment built up in your chest- you decided to send Hermione an owl asking if she would pick you up some sweets and a new book.

Hobbling once again to your bed, you pushed on your abnormally large reading lenses and opened the chest at the end of your bed, looking for parchment and a quill. Scrawling down the letter quickly- you were about to send your own owl off when all of a sudden a screech came and something knocked into the window. Jumping a bit, you squinted and went over to the window. Cautiously you looked over to the side of the window - about a foot -- and there on the ledge was a hazel owl that was now sandwiched into the cobblestone of the wall. Blinking a few times the owl eventually regained it composure and looked at you, cocking its head to the side.

You noticed the parchment in its mouth, hesitating a bit you held your hand out to the owl and grabbed the letter. You looked at the bird for a second and then it hooted and left. Blinking once again you looked down at the square parchment in your hand. Opening it warmth immediate seeped into your cheeks, ----

Hey __!

I wanted to tell you, you should be able to come off those crutches today! And just try and walk on the boot :) Come by in a few days so I can look at how your leg is doing -- don’t forget to take the pain medicine.

xx, jk

The messy scrawl printed on the parchment plain and clear to you. You smiled a bit, a hoot brought you out of your thoughts. You turned around and looked at your black and white owl, her beedy eyes held a sense of amusement.

“No, that’s ridiculous, he couldn’t like me-- I mean have you seen that man, compared to me.  Absurd. Absolutely--,” your voice trailed off as you looked at the paper.

“Absurd,” you ended quietly.

After sending the letter to Hermione, you decided to go to the library and read for a bit -- due to Christmas break approaching the assignments were very minimal. You were still in your room, debating whether or not crutches were a good idea or not, despite what Jungkook said or not.

Knowing the grounds were going to be pretty much empty today, you decided it was as good as now to visit the library and check out some books that students normally have. Sighing, you hobbled over to your chest and looked for something to wear. It was exceptionally cold today so you pulled on a thick blue jumper, over a grey flannel, and some black jeans- struggling a bit to get the leg over your injury. Pulling on a new pair of white converse- courtesy of Hagrid who felt guilty about the whole incident. Having an internal battle with yourself- you decided to wear the bulky boot. Grudgingly pulling it over the bandage, and pulling at the velcro a bit.

Your unruly hair was stuffed under a grey beanie, as you slung your messenger bag over your shoulder. Huffing a bit with effort, you really were already regretting the choice of not using crutches today. But, you were determined to heal faster, after the skin healed- then you were able to walk fine- nodding to yourself with determination, you hobbled down to the library.

It was practically empty in the expanse of the large library. Shelves piled high with books- the spines littered with words and incantations. OWL’S were coming up soon and you wanted to get a head start on outlining. Potions were going to be a pain in the ass due to the fact that Snape absoutlety detested you- and your ability to make potions like it was nothing. You never particularly did anything wrong to him, in fact you never talked in that class, but due to you being a muggle born and one of the best in the year, he still despised you.

Groaning as you thought of the workload in which would be placed upon you in the upcoming weeks, you sucked it up and started looking for books.

A few minutes have passed and you already held three books in the small expanse of your arms- along with some scrolls, you needed one more but the world is a big, and cruel place, and you are on the smaller and shorter scale of that spectrum. Peering up at the shelf, you needed the burgundy spined book on astrology and constellations. You could use accio, but you forgot your wand in your bag back at the couch you were seated. Or you could use wandless magic, but last time that happened you got a bloody nose due to your pronunciation being wrong. Sighing, you were stubborn and injured and wanted to get the books in one go.

Pursing your lips, you decided to tiptoe it. Reaching up, you strained your arm as far as it would go, trying to keep as much weight as possible off your injured leg.

“Almost,” you huffed under your breath, you could feel goosebumps rise on your spine as your sweaters bunched forward with your reach. But the god’s decided to fuck you over this day, because you bumped the desk connected to the tall shelf a bit too hard and it vibrated into the shelf, which caused multiple books to tumble from their spots on the shelf.

“Watch out!” you didn’t even hear the footsteps approach you as you fell on your behind, dropping the books and scrolls in a heap on the dirtied wooden floor. You looked up, and saw Jungkook stalled in front of you bracing your body from the books that were about to fall on you.

Out of instinct, you held up your hand and did the thing you told yourself not to do.

“Impedimenta!” You said through panic, the books came to a slow until they rested on the ground. Breathing a bit heavily, you were a bit confused as you looked at your hand. Why the hell did that seem so intense? You thought to yourself. Slowly you looked up at Jungkook, whose hands were still caging you into the shelf behind you.

Warmth once again creeped up your cheeks as he looked down at you. A yellow button up under a black bomber jacket, hugged his form. Acid washed jeans, and his usual belt, encompassed muscular thighs, with rips on each knee, and his usual converse. He grinned and tilted his head at you, the small silver hoops dangled with his movements. His dark hair was parted on one side- little pieces of hair blocking his forehead. His circular glasses -- similar to yours but significantly smaller, were perched on his pert nose.

Realizing you were staring, the man above you cleared his throat.

“Soo, are you just gonna sit down there? Or come with me to Hogsmeade?”  his smooth voice said to you. Snapping your head up to him, your mouth was parted-- slightly resembling a dead fish.

“M-me?” you said still looking up at him, chuckling he smiled at you.

“No, Nearly Headless Nick. Yes you sweetheart,” Jungkook grinned at you, his nose slightly scrunching with the movement. You gaped at him for a second, heat flushing to the tips of your ears. Then you smiled, 

“Sound’s like fun.”

--

--

--

“This is not fun,” you mumbled under the thick wool of your scarf, as you and Jungkook walked along the cobblestone roads of Hogsmead. There was hustle and bustle all around, as shop keepers decorated for the holidays. Luckily the snow was a light drizzle, as the flecks stuck to the bangs of your hair. As much as you loved Christmas you usually spent it alone due to your parents being busy with their muggle jobs; traveling and whatnot. Sighing you pulled the sleeves of your jumper over your hands a bit, a habit that you did when you were nervous.

Jungkook was trailing slightly in-front of you, carrying a bag of sweets from Honey dukes in which he purchased for you as a thank you. You both just left from the Three Broomsticks, after enjoying a Butterbeer, and now were on your way back to the castle before the night settled in. 

As you were passing the shrieking shack, you noticed the strap of your boot came undone, stopping a second to lean down and re-attach it, you then felt something cold and wet hit the side of your face. Gasping a bit from the sudden intrusion, you looked up at whoever in Merlin’s beard threw a snowball at you. 

Jungkook stood a few yards away, his rosy lip held between his teeth trying to contain his laughter. He already had another snowball at the ready, stepping a bit forward advancing towards you. You inhaled through your open mouth, the breath present in front of you.

“Y-you did, not.” you gaped, looking up at him through your lashes. He winked at you. 

“Oh yes, I did sweetheart.” he said throwing another ball of death at you. Squealing you ducked and began to gather up some of the crystallized ice beneath your feet and whipping up quickly to hurl at his stupid, beautiful face. He laughed dropping the bag of sweets and his satchel, quickly ducking behind some bushes, as you hurled the snowball at him. 

Laughing as you bent down again to gather up more snow, it went quiet for a split second, confused you looked up in the direction of where Jungkook was supposedly hiding. Furrowing your brows, you stood up from your crouched position, the snowball numbing the tips of your fingers. 

“Jungkook?” you called into the brush, the only response you received though was the quiet whistle of the wind, making the tall evergreen trees bristle against one another. Taking a hesitant step forward, you drew your wand from your boot and pointed it at the brush. 

Stepping closer, you peered over the bush cautiously- about the drop the snow-!

“GOTCHA!” Jungkook jumped out of the bush, and tackled you onto the pillowed canvas.

A soft ‘oof’ left your mouth as you fell backwards, breathing a bit heavy you looked up at the grey sky- snow softly fell onto your flushed cheeks. Blinking you craned your neck up to look at the man baby on top of you. Jeon grinned at you, soft puffs of air escaped his mouth as he fought a grin. Blinking again, you were in quite a compromising position. His knees on either side of your waist, while one of his hands held your waist and the other cupping your back to break your fall. Both your hands at your side, one holding a snowball- the other your wand.

Grunting, “Your heavy, get off me fatty,” you whined kicking your feet, pouting at him. He laughed at you, tightening his grip on your waist. 

“Aw, but sweetheart, I quite like this position,” leaning a bit closer to you. Your breath hitched a bit as you felt his warm breath tickle your ear and his slightly chapped lips nibble at the shell.

“You look so pretty under me,” he whispered, biting the skin. You were positive your face was flushed, you parted your lips as a soft groan left your mouth as Jungkook continued to suck on the area behind your ear. Your hands loosened on your wand, and the snowball numbed your fingers by that point.

His lips left a warm trail down your neck as he then began to suck on the skin between your clavicle. Whining, you unintentionally lifted your hips, but Jungkook was quicker as his hand gripped your hips stopping them from moving. Pulling back a bit to trail up to your jaw he stopped at the corner of your lips,

“Stop moving love, don’t make me take you in the snow- especially if you’re still injured,” he rasped into skin. He moved back down to your neck, puckering a few kisses here and there, you groaned. Eyes fluttering here and there, pulling your hands from above you- you gripped Jungkook’s hair and pulled him up to you. Looking him in the eye, his lips were swollen and had a sheen. He was breathing sparsely, eyes dark as he dragged his lip between his teeth. 

“Kiss me,” you practically whined as he dug his fingers into the suppleness of your hips.

“With pleasure,” he practically growled as he dug his hips into yours, as a moan ripped from your mouth, but it was silenced as his warm mouth met yours.

He pulled you into him, his hand on your hips- dragging your hands from his hair he held your hands above your head as he continued his assault on your mouth. He tasted like raspberries from the sweets, and butterscotch. He kissed you deeply, holding you to his lips. Pulling your bottom lip back, he went back in sneaking his tongue into the seams of your lips. Breathing harshly you let him consume you, as you whined grounding your hips into his. You felt something hard poke at the inner part of your thigh.

“J-jung-,” not being able to form cohesive sentences, as his lips and tongue ravished you. Pecking your lips a few more times, he stopped and looked down at you. Your eyes fluttered open, as his face came into view. His jaw was clenched as his hands gripped your wrists a bit tighter. He leaned down close to you, so close your breaths intermingled. Licking his lips, he rested his forehead against you.

“You see what you do to me?” he rasped, bucking his hips to show his point. Moaning you tilted your head back lifting your hips to get something, anything. Jeon groaned, circling his hardness against you- rutting harder and harder. 

You whined into his neck, as he gritted his teeth Jungkook came to his senses and started to slow down.

“No, Jungkoo-,” he hushed you with his lips, puckering them against you. 

“Sweetheart, as much as I want to do ungodly things to you, I can’t- at least not now,” he spoke quietly into your mouth. You held a breath as he pulled away, and quirked a grin at you. Blinking a few times, you nodded at him as he pulled away. Well that was … something. He didn’t even help you up, you were confused. Did I do something wrong? You thought to yourself. 

As you pulled yourself up from the ground, you begin to pat the snow off you, Jungkook was holding the bag of sweets. He was kicking the snow, and looking down at his feet.

Twisting your hands in your scarf you held in a breath, “Hey, did I do something wrong? I am sorry if-,”

“We should get back before the school before it gets dark, yeah?” He said, a bit stern while looking down at his shoes still. You opened your mouth to speak again, but decided to not say anything. You two walked in silence back to the grounds, the only thing lingering was the howl of the wind and your shoes padding on the snow. 

--

--

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks since Jeon Jungkook has spoken to you. As soon as you got back from Hogsmeade, he handed you the bag of sweets and bid you a good night. As you walked back to your room that night, you couldn’t help but feel sad, this was the first time a boy has shown interest in you and a friendship.

The bag of sweets still remained unopened in the corner of your room.

You were sitting at breakfast, picking at your oatmeal which looked as sad as you. Lazily stirring the spoon in the lumpy liquid you looked up at Hermione sitting in front of you, a look of concern in her eye.

“__, you’ve been stirring that bloody spoon in that oatmeal for 10 minutes now, it’s gonna get cold.” She chastised you, with a teasing grin.

“How unfortunate,” you mumbled pushing the bowl away from you. An awkward silence passed, as you picked at your manicured nails. 

“__, it’ll-,” Suddenly the quidditch team came bursting in through the Great Hall. Your head whipped up to see a mesh of students dressed Emerald and Burgundy quidditch clothing. All rooting and cheering, tossing the leather ball around.

Among the bunch was none other than Jeon Jungkook. He smiled as his teammates punched him and ruffled his hair, a wide grin spread across his dimpled face. His raven hair was curly and almost went past his brow. 

“How is he so tan in the winter?” Hermione elbowed you. Grunting you chugged your butterbeer and shrugged.

“Dunno, don’t care, can I borrow the time-turner?” You said standing up, grabbing your satchel. Hermione eyed you for a moment. You held your hand out, she rolled her eyes and plucked the gold jewelry from under her shirt.

“Don’t lose it brat,” She said slapping it in your hand. You waved her off muttering a ‘yeah, yeah mom’ under your breath as you walked away.

“Don’t forget to come to the match today with me! You promised!” She shouted across the great hall as you exited.

Flipping her off, you turned the corner and headed to Divination.

Jeon can suck it. 

--

--

A few hours later, you were sitting in the RavenClaw common room, curled up on a chair reading about Tea leaves.

“Professor Trelawney I don’t know what in Merlin's beard you are on,” you said mumbling as you chewed on the pendant of the jewelry on your neck. Frustrated with the fact that you couldn’t figure concentrate on studying, you proceeded to slap your face into your textbook.

“What did that textbook do to you?” A flat voice said next to you. Groaning in the text book again, you flipped off your sarcastic neighbor.

“Shut your trap Min,” You hissed into the yellowed pages of the book.

“Good to see you too, short stuff.” Yoongi smirked as he stretched into the cushioned chair next to you. Pulling yourself up from the book, you glared at him.

“I am literally taller than you,” you protested. The blonde hushed you, and closed his eyes. Throwing your book at him, well trying, it landed on the carpet below his feet. Silence resonated between you two, besides the quiet talking in the common room.

“What are you doing here,” You sighed into your hand.

“How rude! Can’t a friend just come see you? And comfort you-,” He feigned hurt, placing his hand over his chest. Glaring at him, he snickered. 

“I’m just pulling your leg __,” he chuckled. You, didn’t think it was funny and stood up.

“Well, if that’s all you wanted then I will be on my way-,” you spoke gathering your things up before a large hand grabbed your wrist.

“Okay fine, fine. Hermione told me to get you, because quidditch is starting soon and she knows damn well you will do whatever it takes to not go.” You eyed, him. He blinked.

“I hate you both.” You deadpanned.

“Well I am a generator of hate, and that shit keeps going like a renewable resource.” He said patting your cheeks.

You blinked at him as he walked towards the boy dorms reminding you to dress warm.

Damn You Min Yoongi. 

--

--

Grumbling, you pulled on your cloak. As you sat in the stands with Hermione and Yoongi. You sighed and tapped your converse clad foot on the snow that gathered on the wood of the stands. It was cold and snowing as usual, the flecks of white stuck to your unruly hair and freckled cheeks.

“Damn it, it’s cold.” Hermione whined next to you. Pulling the sleeves of your grey sweater over your gloved hands, you looked at her.

“You’re the one who dragged me here,” you reminded her. She huffed and flicked your cold nose. Smacking her hand away you laughed and pulled your scarf tighter.

“You really are a Ravenclaw because you matched your gloves to your scarf,” Yoongi snickered next to you. You side eyed him, “Yes I did? So what, your Ravenclaw too ya know.”

“Hmmm yes, but you are wearing slate gray gloves, a scarf, and slacks. But black converse, and an oversized royal blue sweater with slate gray stripes. Therefore, you are wearing too much grey.” Yoongi finished pushing his glasses up his face.

You blinked once.

Twice.

Then jumped.

“YAH! MIN YOONGI,” you shouted as Hermione held onto your body so you didn’t gouge his eyes out.

“WHAT DOES MY OUTFIT CHOICES HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING YOU FAT HEAD!? I WILL SHOVE MY WAND SO FAR UP YOUR NOSE IT COMES OUT OF YOUR-,”

“Students of Hogwarts! I welcome you to the 246th annual quidditch match! I am your host, Cho Chang!” The stands roared with screams and shouts. 

“Today we have Slytherin versus Gryffindor, who are both neck and neck with wins thus far!” Cho said enthusiastically.

“Alrighty students, bundle up and give a warm, well frozen welcome, to Hogwarts Quidditch Players!” Cho finishes as brooms whoosh across the arena, emerald and burgundy mesh into your view as the players come out. You stop harassing Yoongi as you spot none other than Jeon, the golden boy broom sitting on his broom, waving. At you.

Startled, you look at him for a moment and give a small smile instead of a wave. He grins at you and proceeds to fly into position.

“___, and Jungkook sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” Yoongi sings next to you, your face heats up, even in the cold; you punch him in the stomach. A wheezing sound comes out.

“You owe me Hermione.” You say hiding your face in your gloves.

--

--

“Another Point for Gryffindor!” Cho says enthusiastically, “It is now Slytherin with 65 and Gryffindor with 70! A close game indeed.”

Your ass can’t bare to sit anymore, it’s frozen and your nervous. You have been watching Jungkook this whole time, his position is the Seeker. Their responsibility is to look for the Golden Snitch.

“You know, Harry’s decision to be captain but not play is bloody ridiculous.” Hermione shouts teetering on her feet and pulling flakes of snow out of her hair.

“I know, he would have done so good this year.” You shout back rubbing your hands together. Flitting your eyes back and forth between the game. All of a sudden, Gryffindor and Slytherin beaters are thrown off their brooms. Confused you squint into the snow to see, what the hell?

“Holy shit! Look!” Yoongi yanks on your cloak and points down. Looking down, you see a bludger bouncing up and down spastically trying to hit the Slytherin that fell of his broom. With the weather it's hard to see, but you can tell something is wrong with that ball.

“Ladies and Gentlemen please do not be- WHOA,” Cho practically throws herself down as the bludger comes toward her stand and it pierces through the wooden stand. “Students! Please keep your head down!” Cho shouts, as she watches for the ball.

The bludger is nowhere to be seen, but then two rows behind you the ball smashes through the wood rapidly causing students to fall forward towards your row.

It’s like it happens in slow motion, you lose your footing trying not to get smashed under the domino of students falling. But your cloak gets caught and you begin to fall off the stands.

“Hermione!” You scream grabbing for her, she makes a quick grab for your hand but, your hand slips out of the glove and you fall from the stands.

You don’t remember if you scream, but you feel the cold rush past you and everything is muffled, your hair whips past your head as you grab at nothing. The ground is getting closer and closer, you close your eyes and allow the cold to embrace you.

All of a sudden you hear a distance ‘whoosh’ from your left, Jeon Jungkook swoops under you with a dangerous dive of his broom and grabs you to his chest, but he’s too close to the ground to pull back up, so slowing down he crashes into the ground with you wrapped into his chest.

“Hold on!” he shouts, as you and him hit the snow covered ground. He holds you tightly, as you both roll simultaneously on the white ground. Jungkook never let go of you, and you never let go.

Your head hurt, and you were wet and cold. Were you dead? Were all your limbs intact?

“__?” A muffled voice said, “Sweetheart are you okay?”

Ugh. My head hurts, but at least I’m not dead. You thought. Well might as well make my presence known.

You slowly opened your eyes, snow stuck to your lashes. You looked up into the sky, an endless wave of snow fell slowly.  You blinked and suddenly Jungkook came into view. Your head was placed on his lap, and his cloak was wrapped around you, he looked down at you with concern.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Jungkook said, stroking your face with his hand. He was breathing heavily, his raven hair was wet and his skin flushed. You blinked, and nodded.

“Head hurts.” You said quietly. “But I’m okay,” You smiled up at him. Jungkook put his forehead to yours, you could feel his warm breath against your cold lips.

“Cmon, sweetheart let's take you to the hospital wing.” He said, pecking your nose then pulling you up into his arms. Despite the weather, warmth burned on your cheeks, as you gripped his uniform.

“I-I can w-walk you-,” Jungkook ignored you and hushed you.

“Not a chance, you took a nasty fall, plus you’re shivering.” He said sniffing.

You didn’t protest all the way to the infirmary.

--

--

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because it was dark and Jungkook was asleep on the chair next to your bed, with his head on the bed.

You sat up, and felt a weight in your hand. Looking down, you felt his hands wrapped around yours. Lips parted, once again you could feel your face heat up. But despite that you smiled. You looked around the dim infirmary, only lit by small lamps, and saw a note by your wand on the bedside table. Scrawled in neat handwriting:

You took a nasty fall there you nerd, glad to see you in one piece. Hermione is okay, just frazzled, they cancelled the game, but Jungkook hasn’t left your side all day. Whipped little bastard, talk to him. Work things out. 

M.Y.

You rolled your eyes and placed the note back. As you turned back around you felt Jungkook stir next to you, and begin to sit up. He rubbed his eyes, his hair in disarray. The sweater he had on, exposed his collarbone and you couldn’t help but stare.

“See something you like Sweetheart?” You whipped your head up to see Jungkook smirking at you, and leaning back in his chair. For the tenth time, warmth filled your cheeks up to your toes.

“No, definitely not.” you pouted, looking down at the off-white sheets. It was silent for a moment.

“You should drink some water,” Jungkook said, clearing his throat and handing you the glass. Looking up at him you took the glass, hands grazing one another, you nodded and chugged the glass. Once finished you handed it back to him and fiddled with the rings on your fingers. 

“Thank you for saving me.” quietly you said. Nervous? You haven’t spoken to him in two weeks, maybe more. Tears welled up in your eyes, “I was so scared. I didn’t think-,” you tried to talk, and you felt tears stream down your face. You sobbed quietly, realization setting in that if you Jungkook wasn’t there, you could have…

Jungkook sat there, staring at you, conflicted. He felt he somehow caused this. Chewing on his lip, he said fuck it. Leaning forward, he tilted your head up and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes widened for a second, as his large hand held your chin and the other gripping the sheets, your eyes began to flutter shut and you kissed him back.

His lips were slightly cold, but soft. He tasted like rose petals, and you were drawn in. You pushed against him and he pushed harder. Jungkook sighed into your mouth, and he pushed you down on the bed, and inhaled you. Pulling back for a second, he looked down at you. Breathing heavily, pupils darker, lips swollen. 

“I was so fucking scared __.” Jungkook admitted. You breathed under him, looking at his face in the dim lighting. His jaw clenched, the vein in his neck sticking out.

“Jungkook..” you sighed, holding his face. Bringing his hand up to your face, he wiped at the dried tear trials on your face.

“I’m so sorry, that I ignored you. I-I was just scared. You’re such a good person, such a light in you.” He quietly spoke, caressing the scar on your cheek.

“Jungkook,” you said firmly, “You are an amazing person. You saved me.” He looked down at you with parted lips. 

Continuing, “You saved me from the forest from those wolves a month ago, and from those books falling on me, and now this. I-I don’t know how, I could ever repay you. You take good care of me, and others. You’re not like the other Slytherins. You care and you’re so warm and safe.” your voice got quieter as you spoke to him.

Jungkook, looked at you with such intensity. You could feel your toes, stomach, cheeks become warm. As the snow stuck to the windows, as the cold blew around in the night. Jungkook kept you warm, and safe. You started at each other, his eyes never leaving yours, as his lithe fingers stroked the spot that scarred a month ago. You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against his, as your breaths intermingled. He smelled like mint and raspberries.

Sleep didn’t elude you that night.

--

--

Spring came. The cool air whistled through the school court yards. Pink petals littered the school grounds. So did the tears of students who didn’t excel in their OWLs or NEWTs. Unfortunately, you couldn't return home for the summer. Your parents were re-doing your home and were staying in a condo. They offered you to come, but you denied it and said you would figure something out. To be honest, you weren’t sure why you said no. Hermione on the other hand, was very insistent that you stay with her but alas, you said no each time. 

You had about a week before you left Hogwarts, and you still had yet to figure out where you were going to stay for the summer. At the moment you were standing in the astronomy tower taking pictures to add to your journal. Every year you kept a journal and documented your year at Hogwarts and oh boy, this one was sure unforgettable. 

You were basking in the warm afternoon air, as you looked over the water that surrounded the school. Your camera dangled strap dangled from around your neck, as you leaned against the railing and took it all in. 

“__?” a low voice called from behind you, startled you whipped around.

 “Jungkook-k! Hey, hey you! What a-are you doing here?” you said stuttering and laughing at the same time. Jungkook grinned at you, as you leaned over the railing trying to act “natural”.

“I was actually looking for you.” He said brushing his hand through his hair, and pushing up his glasses in the process. You blinked at him. He had a camera in his hand as well, but more like a video recording camera. You started at his simple white t-shirt and black jeans. His large hand gripped the camera, the veins in his hands led up to the assortment of rings on his fingers. His wavy, black hair looking ruffled and soft. How you wanted to run your fingers- 

“Um __, are you okay?” Jungkook asked slightly concerned. His voice snapped you out of your daze. Blinking for the umpteenth time, you shook your head.

“Yeah! Totally, ha. Uh why were you looking for me?” You said nervously whipping your hands on your cardigan. Jungkook smiled and shifted his footing, and walked closer to you. 

“Hermione told me that you aren’t going home for the summer, why?” He questioned now leaning against the railing next to you. Blowing out a breath, you leaned on one foot then the other. Looking down at your sandals, you said,

“I don’t really feel like staying crammed up in a condo while my parents house is being re-done. I was going to try and get a small apartment for myself, but it has proven to be a lot more difficult than a I thought.” You said laughing, it was silent for a moment before you looked at Jungkook.

“Why don’t you stay with me then?” he asked looking at you. You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

“Are you on crack?” was the first thing that came out of your mouth. Jungkook grinned, unphased by your so called insult.

“Unfortunately I am not sweetheart, are you?” he joked back, winking at you. You felt your face heat up, as you punched him in the arm.

“Not funny.” you pouted. Jungkook rubbed his arm in false pain.

“I thought it was hilarious but considering the fact that you punched me, I will only forgive you if you stay with me. Or are friendship is terminated.” He said sticking his tongue at you.

“You are a brat Jeon,” you said as you walked away from him to leave.

“Wait,” he said grabbing your arm. You spun around to face him, he was holding up his camera to your face. You pouted at him.

“What?” you grinned at him, as he moved closer to your face.

“Where are you going, don’t leave me here alone!” he whined pulling on your hand. His hand engulfed yours, as he massaged the skin. You looked into the camera and made puckering noises, grabbing onto the lens you looked into it.

“Well if I am going to stay with you, I guess I need to finish packing right?” you teased as you walked away from his filming. Jungkook looked at you with bewilderment as you walked down the steps of the astronomy tower, your soft footsteps fading away as Jungkook did a silent fist bump in the air.

--

--

Well this was it, the week that students were leaving Hogwarts. You were a bit frantic as you made sure everything was packed up, and ready to go. Hermione and you were walking to the train station together, promising to write her every chance you got, and to call her on the telephone. Both of you being muggle born had it perks.

You and Hermione were walking in the train, trying to find an empty area to sit. She was telling you that Yoongi had asked for her number, and she didn’t know how to react.

“__! Hey!” you heard a voice call out to you as you turned around. Jungkook came running up to you, a black bucket hat covered most of his forehead, but his warm dark eyes shone at you. He shuffled through the groups of people in the tight walkway. His large black bag was snugly fit to his hip and it slapped against his grey sweats. Grinning, Hermione halted your conversation as she went inside the compartment. Leaning against the door, you held onto your shoulder bag and waved at Jungkook.

“Hey Jungkook!” you beamed at him. He smiled back, and put his hands in his pockets.

“Find somewhere to sit?” He asked, leaning close to you.

Nodding vigorously, “Y-yeah! Surprisingly, haha. Have you?” you curiously asked.

“Nope not yet, but I am sure I can sit with some of the-,” he was interrupted by Hermione sticking her head out of the compartment.

“Oh my gosh! __, I am so sorry, uh Yoongi asked me to sit with him! Isn’t that great, and it’s even more great because Jungkook here has nowhere to sit. So how about you two crazy kids, sit here and I will sit with Yoongi! It’s a win, win.” She said slapping your arm playfully. “Sooo, toddles!” she singsonged, walking past Jungkook and you, patting your arms simultaneously.

You were so lost at this point, you didn’t even care to protest. Rolling your eyes at your best friends antics, you looked up and smiled at Jungkook.

“Would you care to share a chocolate frog with me?” Jungkook asked, rubbing the back of his neck. You laughed and nodded,

“I would love too.”

--

You arrived at Jungkook’s home approximately 4 and a half hours later. After you exited the train, he informed you that his friend Namjoon brought his car for him. Seeing as Jungkook was a pureblood, you were surprised he owned a ‘muggle’ invention. Jungkook wasn’t from London actually, he was born in South Korea in Busan. He left South Korea after he was accepted to Hogwarts and as he got older he bought a home in Brighton.

You two were currently, moving your bags inside his two story home. It was a pretty cool day, but not too hot thankfully.

“Go on in sweetheart, I am going to check the mail real quick,” he said opening the back of his car. Nodding you picked up your trunk and satchel and walked up the cobblestone brick way and up the steps.

Taking the gold key, you opened the dark oak door and pushed the door open. The corridor was well lit by outside and the house smelt relatively new, with dark oak wood floors. Carrying your things, you set them by the foot of the spiral stairs and walked into the living area. The archway was painted a pale blue, and the room had a fireplace. The furniture was covered with cloth sheets and from what you could tell there were two couches and a loveseat, with a coffee table. Two bookshelves were placed on either side of the fireplace.

Walking toward the left of the fireplace, you noticed there were white curtains shut. Placing your hands on them, you pulled them apart and let the sun into the dark room. Coughing a bit, because of the dust, you awed at the large window, with a plush window seat below it. Placing your hands on the handles you pulled open the window, letting the fresh air in.

“I see you're enjoying this room.” Jungkook said walking in leaning against the furniture. Jumping a bit you turned around and smiled at him.

“Yes, its very nice. I can’t wait to read all those books,” you said eyeing the shelves. Jungkook laughed and walked over to you.

“Hmm, don’t know if you will have time if I have to keep you on your toes the whole time,” he winked poking your nose. Rolling your eyes you swatted his hand away.

“Yeah yeah, Jeon.” you said walking back to the foyer, “Are you going to give me a house tour or what?” you joked looking back at him. Jungkook eyed you, pulling his bucket hat off and chucking it on the couch.

“But of course, where are my manners,” he said in a terrible British accent and bowing.

“Are you making fun of my accent?” you pouted, crossing your arms like a toddler. He sauntered up to you, pinching your arm.

“Pshhh no that’s crazy,” he said walking back outside. “But I will if you don’t help me get the rest of your things you brat,” Jungkook teased. You pointed at him.

“Watch it bucko.” you said smiling. This man will be the death of you.

--

It was a few days later and you finally had everything unpacked, you had your own room which was right across from Jungkook’s ironically. As of right now, you were in the kitchen sitting on the counter and reading a book. Jungkook went on a run, and has been gone for about half an hour now. As you bit into your apple the front door opened.

“__?” a voice sounded from the front foyer.

“In here!” you shouted with a mouth full. Not even paying attention, you swung your legs back and forth keeping your eyes on your book, before taking another bite of your apple.

Not looking up you began to speak, “Hey is it okay if I lay out by the pool-,” you stopped mid sentence and looked up as Jungkook closed the refrigerator door. He was shirtless. Blinking a few times, you didn’t notice your mouth was open because the apple chunk in your mouth fell out onto your thigh. Jungkook seem to not have noticed due to the headphones that were covering his ears.

Gulping, you saw his back turned to you as he reached up into the cupboard. His back muscles were lean and defined as he stretched upward. You could see the slight sheen of sweat as he looked through the cabinets. The skin was more taut as you went to his lower back. His shoulder blades rippled together as he shut the cabinet door. He still didn’t notice you on the counter, as he bobbed his head to the music. Turning around, he finally noticed you and look surprised. Taking his headphones off he looked a bit concerned.

“Uh, __ I think you dropped something.” he said sticking his hand in the box of granola. Blinking once more at his abdominal muscles you finally registered he was talking to you. Looking down, there was a piece of apple on your romper and the saliva was already making it damp. Grimacing you picked up the apple chunk and threw it in the sink. Jumping off the counter you washed your hands and threw the rest of your apple away.

“So what were you asking sweetheart?” Guk said with a mouth full of granola, you laughed and hopped back on the counter.

“I was asking if I could lay by the pool since it's hot as heck,” you said flipping through the pages of the book. Jungkook swallowed his snack and placed his phone back down.

“I mean I don’t see why not,” he shrugged, walking over to you and standing in front of you. He placed his hands on either side of your body, leaning towards you.

“Excuse me sir, you stink.” grimacing you placed a hand on his damp chest and pushed him away. Before you could pull away, he held your wrist and pulled you closer.

“Hmm then maybe you should shower with me,” he teased with dark eyes, leaning closer to you.

“Sure.” you said. Looking shocked with wide eyes, his cheeks tinted pink, which was still noticeable even with his tan skin.

“I-I,” he stuttered. Smiling you pulled your wand out.

“Aguamenti,”  you spoke, pointing your wand in his direction. A burst of water shot from your wand, hitting Jungkook and drenching him. Jungkook stood there with a shocked look on his face, smiling you placed your wand down. Sighing, Jungkook flipped his hair back getting little droplets on your face.

“Thanks __.” he said dryly. Winking, you jumped off the counter, patting his wet stomach and walking off to change in your swimsuit. 

--

You were laying on the chair, by the pool. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been outside, but long enough the feel a pleasant warmth seep into your skin. You laid farthest away from the glass sliding door, not wanting Jungkook to see your body in the white bikini you decided to put on. You were reading on your tablet when all of a sudden you heard the glass sliding door open. Sitting up from your stomach you pulled your sunglasses down to see Jungkook, in sweat shorts and no shirt.

Pulling your cover up on you sat up placing the tablet on the towel on the chair.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You said pulling your cover up tighter around you, looking up at him. You pulled your sunglasses up, seeing him more clearly. Not saying a word he crossed his arms and glared at you. Confused you stood up in front of him.

“What’s wrong did something happen?” you asked concerned. He shook his head.

“Go to my room and wait there for me. Now,” he said in a stern, cold voice. Confused you didn’t move.

“But why?” you asked. His glare deepened and his eyes got darker.

“Now __! I will not ask you again,” he said pointing to the house. Holding your hands up, you didn’t say another word as you walked towards the house and up to his room. God what is up with him? Was it because of earlier?

You thought as you sat down on his bed, twisting your cover up in your hands. You heard footsteps come up the stairs as you crossed your arms over your chest. The door opened, and Jungkook walked in a cold look in his usual warm eyes.

“Okay, what the hell is going on Jeon?” you questioned shooting up from the bed and looking at him. He slit his eyes at you, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. You noticed the veins that went from his hands to his forearms and up his biceps. Looking down a bit, his abdominals were taut and muscular. The toned area lead downwards to a light trail of hair that disappeared into his-

“Bend over.” Jungkook said in a dark tone. Your eyes widen and you gape at him.

“Excuse me?” you say not sure how to process what he said. Jungkook uncrosses his arms and steps closer to you.

“__, don’t make me bend you over myself, you will not like me.” he says with a growl in his tone. You feel warmth begin to pool in your stomach, but being defiant you look him dead in the eye matching his stare.

“No,” you say. In a split second Jungkook, picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, and walks over to the bed. You are about to protest when you feel his hand slap your ass leaving a sharp stinging sensation. Gasping out loud, you hit his back.

“Jeon Jungkook I don’t know what in Merlin’s beard you are doing but you better stop,” you don’t even finish your sentence when another slap lands on your ass, making arousal pool into your stomach once more.

“Sweetheart I haven’t even sat down to bend you over my knee yet, and you are already giving me attitude. Tsk, tsk.” he tuts at you sitting down on the bed. You try and squirm out of his grasp but he is stronger and pulls you down over his knee. ”We can make this easier or much, much harder.” he says stroking your back.

You stop moving for a moment, and relax in his hold breathing a bit sparsely.

“Good girl." Jungkook hums.

“Oh darn, this is in the way,” he says referring to your cover up. Before you can even offer to take it off, he rips it clean down the middle, the silk material falls of your body. You look down at the shreds on the dark flooring.

“Mmm, much better,” he says rubbing his large hand over your tanned skin. Your breath hitches as you feel him finger space under your swim bottoms, holding a breath as he pulls them down below your butt. You feel something hard begin to poke at your stomach as Jungkook kneads the bare skin of your ass.

“My, my sweetheart. You were hiding this under that cover-up?” he teases while lightly dragging his nails over the supple skin of your ass. You can feel yourself getting wet, the arousal pooling out of you.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. You have been very naughty, that little water spell you did today didn’t make me happy princess, so now you must be punished.” he spoke into your ear, gripping your ass tightly. His warm breath tickled the shell of your ear, he gently bit down on the skin grazing his tongue against it. He pulled away, you could feel the warmth on your face as you breathed in the cotton smell of the sheets.

“Now, you are going to count how many times I spank your pretty bottom, and every time I don’t hear you I will keep spanking you until I do, is that understood.” he spoke firmly gripping your ass. You meekly nodded.

“Use your words princess,” he growled grabbing your ass tighter. You whimpered,

“Yes.” you whined into the sheets. It was silent for a brief moment before you felt his hand come down with such force you shifted forward on the bed. You whine again, and choke back a moan.

“1..1.” gripping the sheets tightly, you whined as Jungkook rubbed the sore spot on your ass. Breathing heavily, you felt a slight brush of air as his hand came down two more times.

“2...3,” you could feel tears sting in your eyes, but also a warmth spread in your core. Wiggling in Jungkook’s hold, he spanked you three more times.

“I can do this all day sweetheart, the more you move the more I will spank you.” Jungkook spoke smoothly, rubbing the suppleness of your ass.

“I-I am sorry, for what I did,” you mumbled into the sheets. Jungkook hummed running his finger down the curve of you back,  pinching at the skin around your hips. It was quiet, the hum of the air conditioner was the only thing you could hear. Jungkook began to rub his finger down the globe of your cheek and to your thighs. You could feel your arousal wetting your already sweaty thighs.

“Hmmm, sweetheart as much as you say you are sorry, this tells me otherwise,” he speaks softly. Gripping your hair he yanks your head up, making your back arch. Holding your upper body with your hands you blink as Jungkook brings his fingers into your view. They are slick with your arousal as he spreads them apart, it strings across the skin. Breathing quietly, he brings them up to your mouth spreading it around your mouth. Keeping your mouth closed, you disobey shaking your head. Jungkook growls releasing your hair roughly and holding your head on the sheets.

Jungkook becomes relentless, and spanks your ass with such force the bed shifts. Your moans are muffled in the sheets, and you lose count after 20.

“You are such a little cock slut, hmm? Enjoying this, getting wet over your punishment,” Jungkook tuts as his hand comes down, “Fuck.” Jungkook curses under his breath. He spanks you one more time for good measure. Pulling you off his lap, he doesn’t even pull your swim bottoms off as he tosses you onto the bed. Breathing heavily you look at the ceiling until he comes into your view.

“You think this is funny? Hmm?” he asks, caging you in. Your eyes widen as you hold your hands up in front of you.

“No! Jungkook, I said I am sorry, okay.” you sternly say, “Fuck, please Jungkook!-” your sentence is cut short when his hand comes down on your clit hard. Gasping you feel warmth clench in your core. Not even giving you a chance to recover, Jungkook shoves two of his fingers inside your wet hole.

“You don’t sound apologetic at all sweetheart, how disappointing. Your pussy is  practically drenching my fingers.” he whispers into your ear. You can feel his warm breath on your sweaty skin, as he sucks on the skin of your neck and continues to thrust his fingers inside you. You are practically panting at this point.

“Come on __, need you to cum so your nice and stretched out for my fat cock. Would you like that? My fat cock stuffed inside you, pushing my cum back in? Hmm?,” Jungkook teases you, as he slows the thrust of his fingers. Your mouth is open in a silent moan as Jungkook leans back to grip your hips.

“Cum.” Jungkook growls.

“Oh god, fuck! Nghh-,” whimpering you feel your core tighten and arousal leak onto Jungkook's hand. He continued to thrust his fingers out of your hole, then pulled them out. Breathing heavily, you sat up in your dazed state and looked at him. He was sucking your arousal off his fingers and looking you in the eye.

“Mmm, you taste wonderful sweetheart,” he coos getting up from the bed. You look at him, feeling your cheeks flush. Jungkook crosses the room to the walk in closet and comes back out with two scarves. Ironically they are Raven claw and Slytherin colors. He rounds to your side with both scarves. You look up at him, as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips. His lips are warm and taste like green tea; the kiss was chaste and makes your chest swell. He pulls back, and leaned his forehead against yours.

“__, I am going to continue now, if you don’t want me to continue then tell me now.” he whispers against you. You shake your head and cup his cheek.

“I trust you Jeon,” you whisper. Jungkook nods. Standing up, his demeanor changes with a dark look in his eyes. You watch him as he takes one of your arms and ties it to the headboard, and does the same with the other arm. Your arms burn from the uncomfortable position, but you don’t care. Jungkook stands at the foot of the bed, looking at you. His lean chest is slick with sweat, and his sweatpants are low on his hips, exposing a sharp muscle leading downwards. You breath in as he comes onto the bed.

“Hmmm, has this been on the whole time,” he speaks mostly to himself, referring to your bikini top. You don’t even get a chance to answer, before he pulls the flimsy material off your chest. Throwing the material on the ground he hums in approval, the same treatment happens to your swim bottoms as well. Running his finger up your body to your breast. He comes forward encasing your nipple in the warmth of his mouth. Swirling it around his tongue, he nips at it with his teeth and pulls at it. Mewling, he pulls back rubbing both the pert buds with his thumbs.

“You like that sweetheart? Me pulling at your nipples hmm?” he teases rubbing more and more.

Head tilted back, you nod. Jungkook stops slapping your bare pussy.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” he says above you, pulling your chin up. Your eyes are glazed over with pleasure.

“Y-yes Jungkook,” you groan in his hold. Releasing you, you look at him as he begins to pull the strings of his pants. Sitting on his knees, he pulls down his pants and boxers. Your eyes widen as he pulls his weeping cock out of his pants. Your mouth waters as he grabs his cock. Pulling his lip between his teeth, he strokes himself.

Smirking at you, “..you like what you see sweetheart?” You nod below him. His dick is long and thick, smooth and pink. A vein runs under the length, the bulbous tip already wet with precum. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Please Jungkook-,” you whine straining your hands against the restraints. “Please let me suck you.” you whine moving under him.

Jungkook hums, “Not today baby,” you whine at the pet name, “I need to make sure you are nice and stretched out when I stuff my fat cock into your weeping pussy,” he grunts, pulling at his dick. Leaning forward he rubs the tip of his penis on your pert nipples. You thrust upwards to nothing, as his smooth tip wets your nipples.

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses, leaning down to kiss you. He clashes his tongue against yours nipping at your lip. You groan into his mouth, as his hand pushes you down by your neck. The kiss is messy and wet. Pulling back, a string of saliva is present as your mouths part. Drawing attention back to his cock, he takes it and leans down to your pussy. He takes his length, and rubs it up and down your wetness. Pushing his fat tip against your clit and swirling it with his cum.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, rutting your hips to his cock. You bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook, swirls his tip up and down slicking his dick with your arousal. You can feel the knot tighten in you for the second time, as his hand comes up to your nipples once more rubbing it with his thumb.

“Come on sweetheart, cum on my cock.” Jungkook says running his hand down your stomach. His hand finds your engorged clit and rubs it hard. That’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, as you wail in pleasure. Jungkook groans, continuing to rub his cock against you. Your climax coating his dick even more. You breath heavily, as he keeps going - over stimulating you.

“Nghh- Guk, please I-I can’t,” you whine, pulling at the restraints once more. He growls,

“You can and you will,” he says pulling his cock off you. You squeak when your flipped over onto your stomach aggressively, as he slaps your ass a few times. You hear shuffling behind you, as you breath into the sheets of the bed. You then feel a presence behind you, as Jungkook once more leans his body against yours. His hardened cock, against the crack of your ass.

“Cmon sweetheart, I know you want me to fill you with my seed until it spills out of your greedy hole. You want me to rub my fat cock over your wet pussy, like the little sock slut you are.” he whispers into your sweaty skin, pinching at your hips. “I will let you ride me, and sit on my cock, would you like that?” Jungkook whispers, kissing down your back. You felt his taut muscles on your back, as he breathed against you, waiting for an answer.

“Y-yes Jungkook, I want your cock. I have learned my lesson, please fill me up with your seed,” you whined, wiggling your sore ass into his cock. Jungkook got up leaving you in that position.

“Sit on your knees,” he said. Shifting up, with the restraints, you pulled yourself on your knees, with your head hung. Jungkook's soft footsteps went to the other side of the bed, moving to sit in front of you. Smiling, he kissed your clavicle, and began to lay under you. Looking down at him, his naked body was under yours, as your legs straddled his hips. He shimmed under you, looking up at you with his big brown eyes. Grinning at you, his raven hair was damp and ruffled.

“Sit on my face sweetheart, need you nice and wet for me cock, okay?” he said looking up at you. You nodded, shifting forward with shaky thighs. Gripping the headboard you lowered down onto his face, his large hands gripping your hips. You were moving too slow for his liking, so he pulled you down onto him in one swift movement. You groaned, as he immediately began to suck on your clit.

“Jungkook!” you threw your head back, trying to pull up. But Jungkook kept a firm grip on your thighs. You could feel yourself unraveling, as he began to grind your hips on his lips. You were gasping as you looked down at him, his eyes held a playful glint. He then stuck his tongue deep inside your hole. He held you down, as he forced the muscle in your tight hole. You felt so full, as he held you down. For the third time, you felt yourself unravel as arousal leaked out of your abused hole.

“Jungkook,” you whined, your body growing tired. The once lit room, was now basked in a warm orange glow as the sun began to set. You arms were growing tired, due to the restraints. Jungkook lifted you off him, as your eyes fluttered. Jungkook began to sit up, with your body resting on his strong thighs. You breathed heavily, as he stroked your sweaty back. Arms limping against his back with the slight pull of the scarves. You felt Jungkook's, hard length against your stomach.

“Sweetheart, can you give me one more,” he spoke against your hair, kissing your sweaty scalp. Nodding you blinked a few times as he lifted you, onto your stomach. He untied both of the scarves, and your sore arms fell limp, at your sides. Jungkook took your arms and massaged your wrists, kidding the taut skin.

“Be a good girl and take my cock into your tight little hole,” Jungkook said pulling your hips to his pelvis.

“Please, Jungkook-!” your sentence was cut short when Jungkook sheathed you with his fat cock, the stretch was delicious and hot, feeling the warmth tighten. Your arms gave out under you, and you rutted back towards him.

“Shit, don’t move sweetheart,” Jungkook groaned gripping your hips. He stilled his thrusts, holding you down. You stilled your body, as you felt Jungkook’s cock swell in you. You wanted to move, but you stayed still. After a few minutes you felt Jungkook shift behind you, pulling his hard cock all the way out of you, and rubbing your entrance with his fat tip. After gathering your arousal he stuffed his cock back inside you.

You groaned, clenching around him.

“I feel so, f-full,” you whined. Skin slapping skin, was the only thing that could be heard along with your panting and Jungkook’s grunting. You were so close, pulling back against him his dick shifted to a spongy spot inside you that made you keen.

“Fucking, shit!” you squealed, “..right there,” Jungkook positioned his hips faster against yours. His heavy ball sack hitting your ass with each thrust. Jungkook cursed, pulling his hand away from your body and finding your engorged clit. Rubbing rapid circles he rocked into you hitting the same spot over and over.

“Nghh, Jungkook please let me!” you wanted to cum so bad, as Jungkook quickened his pace.

“Cum for me __. Cum all over my cock,” Jungkook growled slapping your ass and digging his nails into the flesh. You practically screamed as you for the final time felt the knot tighten in your core, as you squeezed his dick and milking your orgasm. Soon after Jungkook came, and spilled inside you.

“Fuck.” his voice was hoarse as he pushed his seed inside you. Your body was exhausted, as your breathed heavily against the sheets. Jungkook didn’t pull out of you, as he leaned forward and flipped your tired body around.

Your eyes were shut, as your arms laid limp at your sides. Jungkook pressed kisses up and down your body, “You did so well sweetheart,” he mumbled against your slick skin. His dick was beginning to soften and he slowly pulled himself out. You whined at the loss, but he shushed you as he circled his tip where his arousal leaked out. You felt his bulbous tip circle your entrance and push his seed back in. Only the tip went in but you groaned at the intrusion.

“Jungkook,” you whined, “Stop,” he chuckled pulling back. You felt his seed spill out of your abused hole, and you sighed as your body went lax. Jungkook kissed your clavicle, and got up from the bed. Pulling on his boxers, Jungkook rounded the bed and picked up your sore body from the sheets.

“C’mon sweetheart, you need to go pee.” he gently said holding your naked body to his warm chest. Opening your eyes a bit you looked at the pale blue walls, and you shook your head slowly. Pinching his nipple you mumbled an ‘I don’t wanna’ you whined like a child, as he entered the master bathroom and setting you down on the sink. The cool tile made you squirm, stinging your sore ass. You were weary and not aware of what was happening. Jungkook laughed at your state, and kissed your cheek. Pulling a shirt over your head he told you to go pee once again, as he patted your thigh and kissed your eyelids. Finally doing as he said, you wobbled to the toilet and did your business. Washing your hands, and splashing some water on your face you walked back into the room. Rubbing your eyes, Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed typing on his phone. Looking up he saw you, and grinned. Tossing his phone on the sheets he walked up to you, pulling you to his chest.

“I ordered takeout, I bet your hungry,” he said looking down at you. You nodded meekly hiding your face in his bare chest. He chuckled at your shy state, taking your face into his hands he pulled you to look at him.

“Sweetheart are you okay?” he asked, stroking your lip with his thumb. You looked at him, his deep eyes held concern.

“I am sorry for what I did earlier,” you spoke softly, your lips turning into a soft pout. Jungkook rolled his eyes, pinching your cheeks.

“Hmmm, well. I am sure you can make it up to me by agreeing you be my girlfriend, then I might consider forgiving you. Also a kiss,” he spoke looking at the ceiling.

You giggled, pressing your fingers into his chest. “I might have to take you up on that,” you teased. Wrapping your arms around his neck. He hummed, snaking his hands down to your waist.

“Maybe you should put some underwear on first,” he teased slapping your bare ass and releasing you. Your cheeks flushed as you, glared at him.

“Tick, tock __. My offer won’t stand foreverrr,” he joked as he walked out the door. You groaned, beginning looking for your torn swim bottoms.

“Accio, swim bottoms.” Jungkook spoke by the door, you whipped around as Jungkook held your ruined swim bottoms by his finger. He wiggled his wand around pointing it at you.

“Come and get me,” he winked, skitting down the hall.

“Jeon!” 

--

Hi, hello, it is i, I am off hiatus!! Yay, okay so this fic I slaved over this for a good 2 weeks lol, it was supposed to be posted in December actually lol that didn’t happen … anywoosie, I really hope you all like it! It took so long to write and so much of my energy, please be kind to the smut HAHA its my first time writing it oof, anywoosie I have some other works in mind, so please don’t ask when those will be up, I am very busy this summer holiday so when I will write when I can ;-; I love you all! Thank u to all my mutuals who motivated me to finish this beast haha, xx ash

[god-save-the-keen]

Super Bowl surprise

Book: Mother of the year

Pairing: Thomas Mendez x MC (Tara) with Luz and MC's daughter (Rory)

Summary: It's almost Super Bowl and Thomas have a surprise for the womans in his life.

This is part of the Super Bowl Weekend Challenge hosted by @argylemnwrites so I hope you all enjoy it!

Words: 1.545

Warning: None, fluff!

Note: I'm not North American so I don't know for sure all the traditions or even the game itself but thanks to the help of the awesome @client-327 I think it turned out great! In another hand, my computer just DIED witch is why I can't cut the long post... Sorry for that! Be patient with me!

Thomas Mendez tag list: @chetachisblog @annekebbphotography @princess-geek @lilyofchoices @ao719 @marycarrillo21 @kamybelen-blog @cxld-play @vaticanwaltz @kingliamrys @x-kyne-x @hatescapsicum @thecordoniandiaries @choicesfannatalie

Permanent tag list: @gardeningourmet @desiree---1986 @dawn-1994 @violinet @darley1101 @blackcatkita @flyawayboo @drakewalker04

Tara was in the living room after work with the two girls as they were doing their homework. She was sitting on the couch when she heard the front door and just a few seconds later, Thomas was beside her, giving her a sweet 'hello' kiss.

"Evening ladies." He kissed both girls on their heads and hung his briefcase and jacket on the rack. Tara noticed how happy and excited he was, grinning the whole time time and his eyes sparkling.

"What's up with you?" Tara asked smiling as he sat beside her holding her waist and pulling her closer.

"Well… I may have something planned for all of us." Both girls turned to observe him, curious looks in their eyes.

"Who wants to go to the Super Bowl in Miami?"

"WHAT?!" Luz shouted standing up, almost jumping out from her chair, thrilled. "Are you serious, dad?!"

"Dead serious" He laughed. "Oof" Luz had ran and pounced on him, hugging her dad hard. She loved the Super Bowl as much as playing soccer.

"That's amazing!" Rory said, going to hug Thomas too. She wasn't a sport fan but she enjoyed the halftime show. "We are going to see Shakira and JLo!" It was funny that a girl so smart and serene was this happy about a pop show in the middle of a sporting event.

"Forget that! We are going to see the Chiefs!"

"And that's not even the best part." Luz watched him anxiously, Tara was convinced that she was going to explode any second. "We are going to have a private box"

"What?" Tara asked surprised, her eyes widened and her mouth slightly open making him laugh again. Luz sat down again, her cheeks a bit red and her eyes more open than normally.

"Lulu, are you okay?" Thomas asked her, still smiling big.

"We are going to Miami… To see the Super Bowl… I'm going to see the Chiefs playing live… In a private box…I need a moment." As Rory sat beside her and happily observed her, Thomas focused his attention on Tara.

"So, can you take a few days off?"

"Oh definitely! But honestly, did you rob a bank or something? I'm okay with the conjugal visits but I don't think orange is your colour." He laughed lacing their fingers together.

"No I didn't, although the conjugal part sound tempting." She slapped his chest softly. "George can't go this year so he gave me the box."

"Is he okay?" At the Christmas Dinner for his law firm, Tara had met Thomas' boss and she really liked him, he had been kind to her and an amazing host.

"He is, his family doesn't want to go this year so--"

"We are going to the Super bowl!!" Luz suddenly shouted startling everyone as she stood up so abruptly that her chair fell to the ground. Rory, who was beside her, concentrated on a book, watched her with a little resentment, searching for the page she was on before she had closed the book startled.

"Luz!" Thomas reprimanded her but she didn't listen, she was running down the hall towards her bedroom still shouting about the Super bowl. "This girl…" He sighed as Tara giggled.

"When do you want to leave?"

"I was thinking we'd be there Friday, Saturday, Sunday and return Monday at night. What do you think?"

"I think it's perfect." She smiled happily.

"Mom" Rory, who was still in the living room, was watching them with an expectant smile.

"Yeah kiddo?"

"Miami is kind of close to Disney, can we go there too?"

"What do you think?" She would love to take the girls there but she wanted Thomas' opinion too, after all he was the one that planned this getaway.

"You know what Rory? I think it's an amazing idea." Thomas said smiling, he knew Rory had never been to Disneyland so it was the perfect opportunity. She thanked them and went to the bedroom to tell the news to Luz. Tara cupped his cheek and leaned to kiss him lovingly.

"You, Mr. Mendez, are the sweetest man alive." He smiled brightly at her, his warm eyes almost sparkling.

"Okay, then we need plane tickets and hotel rooms. You take care of the tickets and I search for the hotel?"

"Let's do it baby!" He chuckled at her enthusiasm as she took out her phone and lay her head on his lap searching for flights to Miami. He held his phone with one hand as the other absently stroked her hair. Thirty minutes later, all the reservations were made with a couple of gifts for the girls.

The next two weeks passed in the blink of an eye, before they knew, they were landing in Miami. Thomas noticed how happy Tara was, her eyes observing every detail around her and her smile so big that he was sure her face hurt. Luz and Rory were in the backseat of the rented car, loudly talking and laughing, excitedly.

"Oookay, we are here!" He opened the door and gave the keys to a valet as a hotel bellman grabbed their suitcases.

"Thomas… It's amazing!" He kissed her cheek and took her hand while the girls ran in front of them. The hotel was not only beautiful but also comfortable in every single possible way. It had an indoor pool, steam room, outdoor pool, restaurant, a bar, a playroom and a library.

The first day they toured around the city, they went to South Beach and Ocean Drive, then Downtown and Miami Seaquarium and the second day was exclusively for Disney World. Rory grinned the whole day, running here and there, as Luz showed her her favorites rides, when she saw Cinderella castle, she took Luz hand and headed to the line as fast as she could. Finally, Super Bowl Sunday arrived. Luz was so excited that they heard her voice through the door that connected both rooms waking up both Tara and Thomas. He buried his head against her shoulder as the arm that was under the cover pulled her closer, his eyes still closed and his bear chest warm against hers.

"Thomas…" She gently caressed his nape.

"Don't say it." Tara chuckled softly moving strands of his hair from his eyes.

"We have to" She responded as he groaned quietly covering them further before gently kissing her.

"Good morning beautiful" He said smiling under the cover and sheets, his nose almost touching hers.

"Well, good morning to you too handsome" She pulled his head with her hand towards her and kissed him again. They stood like that for a few more minutes before the shared door opened and Luz came inside their room chanting "Super Bowl" excited. They changed and went to breakfast in the hotel restaurant, since they wanted to be early they decide to stay there for the day and take advantage of the accommodation it had, the girls went to the indoor pool, they did a group activity with other kids and the hotel personal, as Thomas and Tara took the chance to visit the spa and sauna. By 3pm they were in the room, getting ready, with the Chiefs T-shirts that he had bought for everybody, Tara smiled to herself when she saw Rory in her football t-shirt for the first time ever. She braided Luz's hair how she liked, feeling Thomas' gaze on her and his smile on her cheek before he planted a kiss there, he loved how good Luz and Tara's relationship was, and a ponytail for Rory. Once the girls were ready, she chose a pair of tight dark blue jeans, a messy bun and tied her t-shirt on the side, showing a little bit of belly. He grabbed her waist and kissed her neck.

"How can you make a football t-shirt look this good?" She laughed and turned in his arms to kiss him.

They took the rental car and went to the stadium, the parking lot was almost full already but luckily they found a spot not too far from the door, they bought a lot of snacks, food and soda and headed to the entrance. The line was long and slow, the security took their time with each person, checking the tickets and belongings. Once inside, they put everything on a couple of couches and tables, as the girls turned to watch through the windows around them, Thomas and Tara sat on one of the sofas as his hand softly brushed her exposed skin.

The game was everything they expected and more, Luz passed through all the states humanly possibly, she was happy, excited, anxious, nervous during the game, angry and laughed with some of the commercials. Everybody enjoyed the Super Bowl, Tara laughed when Thomas jumped out of his chair with his cheeks flushed, angry with the referee, Rory and Tara sang along with JLo and Shakira as Luz ate a hot dog waiting for the rest of the game.

It was a perfect and fun day, the Chiefs had won, the halftime show was awesome and they had enjoyed it like a family, making their hearts feel completed.

❣️

[lemonadetyler]

your dad catches you and peter

pairing: peter parker x stark! reader

type: smut // headcanon

a/n: send me an ask to join the tag list below!!

- let’s get one thing straight; you & peter stay being freaks in the sheets. like yall WILD wild

- daddy kink? role playing? choking? y’all fuck with it all.

- so you guys are kicking it in stark tower one day, where u both live.

- everyone knows yall date & tony tried to keep you guys from being alone but eventually he just gave it up

- kids, amiright

- you did go to pepper once things started to pick up between you & peter & asked for birth control

- “if u tell your dad i did this for u, we’re both dead.” pepper told you after handing you the birth control. point is, always practice safe sex kiddos.

- so back to u & peter chillin. you guys just cuddling, watching netflix, doing yo thang u know how it be.

- “you’re so beautiful.” peter tells you as he stares down at you. you’re basically curled up into his body.

- “peter i wanna kiss.” you say all innocent like.

- “that’s very demanding of u.” peter jokes.

- “peterrrrrr.”

- “fine.” peter plants one prude fuckin kiss in your nose like this shit just a game.

- “that’s all i get?”

- “you want more?” peter asks with a smirk.

- “yes, daddy.” now you’re crawling into his lap, positioning yourself at eye level and leaning your head in to meet his.

- peter, even for how rough he can be in bed, is always the most gentle kisser.

- peter moves at the last minute and rubs your nose against yours. cute? yes. what you wanted? not at all.

- “an eskimo kiss? really peter?” bitch really thinks he slick.

- “you’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you want, babygirl,” peter tells u, knowing damn well you want that vitamin d.

- “i want you to fuck me hard, daddy.”

- “yes, ma’am.” peter replies like the nerd he is.

- peter snakes his hand into your underwear. you didn’t have any pants on because we all know pants are for cowards. don’t wear pants. ever.

- anywho

- peter is being so tender & gently rubbing your clit with his thumb, flicking it back and forth between his thumb & pointer finger

- you’re very slowly moving up and down on his hand while still straddling his lap. peter puts his free hand on your waist with a grip so hard it’s sure to leave bruises. your eyes are closed, you’re biting your lip like your fuckin bella from twilight.

- peter cant take his eyes off of your face as you move up and down in ecstasy because of how good his fingers make u feel. you open your eyes and meet his gaze. his big puppy brown eyes are glued on you and sexy you look

- “feel good, babygirl?”

- you’re just a moaning mess & can’t even respond. peter kisses you deeply & just agh this man will be the death of me.

- “peter i’m gonna come” you say as you approach your edge, prompting peter to pull his fingers out from your panties.

- “you’re not coming until i’m in that lil pussy”

- goddamn yes sir whatever u want

- peter is pulling his hard cock out of his pants. you spread the precum spewing out of his tip around & spit on the head a few times while slowly jerking him off. with you still on peter’s lap, he slides into you excruciatingly slow.

- “peter i’m begging you to speed up.”

- “but i love it when you beg.”

- YOU KNOW WHAT I WOULD SAY SOMETHING ABOUT HIS ATTITUDE BC QUITE FRANKLY IVE HAD ENOUGH BUT HOMEBOY KNOWS HOW TO FUCK SO WE GOIN LET IT SLIDE THIS ONE TIME

- peter is fucking u so good, hitting your clit hard every time he carefully moves in & out of u. each thrust is slow & thought out. you’re in agony as you sit on peters lap while he fucks you hopelessly.

- “daddy,” you whimper.

- “what do you need, babygirl?”

- “i need to come, daddy.”

- “you want to come with my cock buried in that pretty little pussy of yours?”

- you moan in response. how is this man so composed, you look MESSY. all of a sudden peter hits your g spot HARD.

- “daddy!” u scream, way too loud.

- peter’s hand quickly covers your mouth as he continues fucking u.

- “get the hell off my daughter.” your dad calmly tells peter.

- oh fucking shit. didn’t even hear him come in. what did i just do. holy hell

- y’all just sitting there in shock

- peter is still inside you

- so that’s not good

- “peter you have 10 seconds to get out of stark tower before i kill you.”

- peter didn’t even fuck with the door or walking by mr. stark. he was out the window in 5 seconds flat

- “and you-“ your dad points to you. “get decent, come talk to me then.”

- well shit

- so u put lots of clothes on

- lookin like a fuckin nun

- feeling the holy spirit corse through you

- you are reborn a child of god

- no fucking the spiderman for you

- nope. uh uh.

- “y/n.” your dad approaches you when you step out of your room.

- “who gave you permission to do anything of that kind?” your dad asks you.

- you look around. ALL of the Avengers + Pepper are there staring at y’all

- cool 🙃

- “tony what is going on?” pepper asks, the first out of the group to speak.

- “yeah i don’t understand what’s happening.” natasha interjects

- “y/n here thinks it’s okay to just go around having sex with peter whenever & wherever she please.”

- “tony!” pepper yells at him.

- “what?” tony replies defensively

- “y/n is a young woman, that is her business.” pepper defends you.

- “the whole group don’t need to know. that’s just embarrassing for y/n.” natasha tells your dad. your race was tomato red.

- “my little girl was calling peter parker ‘daddy!’” tony yells back

- WHAT THE FUCK, DAD

- & THE FACE THAT STEVE & BUCKY MAKE AT EACH OTHER. THEY DID NOT WANT TO THAT INFORMATION EITHER

- “who let you think this is okay? with no protection?” your dad yells at you

- YIKES SIS REALLY DONT KNOW

- “i let her.” pepper speaks up. “i’ve been giving her birth control.”

- BIG OOF

- “what?” tony asks all confused like the dumb bitch he be sometimes

- “tony,” pepper says tryna calm him down. “y/n is __ years old. she is responsible enough for this.”

- “wow, okay, fine. anyone not think i’m crazy?” tony asks the group.

- “tony this is completely inappropriate.” natasha says, stepping closer to tony, a lil threatening.

- “steve?” tony asks, tryna get pry those morals out of him.

- “i think y/n can figure this one out.” steve replies

- OH SHIT SIS SNAPPED GET FUCKED

- “y/n, just go to your room.” your dad tells you defeated. “& next time you & peter... do stuff... lock the damn door.”

- & with that, you outtie. you go back into your room, sitting on your bed, taking it all in

- “is he gone?” peter pokes his head in through your window.

- “peter!” you exclaim.

- he climbs in & u meet him with a kiss.

- “what’d he say?” peter asks you

- “i’ll tell you later.” you tell him.

- this time, you lock the door.

tag list: @smilexcaptainx @just-an-average-nerd @mstoomanynames

[pandawritespoorly]

A Shy ‘Sparrow’: Chapter 1 - Origins

Author’s Note: This isn't my best work. I liked the idea and want to get it written, but I haven't put as much time into it as With Time. I don't think I could handle having two in-depth chaptered fics at once, so this one is simpler. I may rewrite it sometime.

Next

Anyways, without further ado:

Nooroo hated that he was being used in such a way. Gabriel Agreste was worthy of no miraculous, especially not the butterfly.

A miraculous of change, for a man who had been stagnant since he decided he was better than his peers. Disgraceful.

Of course, the magic of the brooch keeps the Kwami from being able to stop his master. Gabriel seems rather proud of himself for ‘discovering’ that he had the ‘power’ to ‘control’ Nooroo. Pitiful fool, he fancies himself a genius because he knows not the depths of his ignorance.

Nooroo can do far more than this human thinks. For now, Nooroo hopes that handing off Duusu to Adrien will be enough. He’s a good kid, and if when the Guardian gets to Paris, the child can be cleansed of any… negative consequences to using a damaged miraculous.

Now all Nooroo can do is hope.

---

“Oof!” Marinette runs into something on her rush to get to class on time this year. She hears things fall to the floor as her bags hit the floor, spilling their contents everywhere. The girl looks up to see a blonde boy, peering down at her with curious green eyes.

Correction - she ran into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” they crouch down, both of them picking up the various papers and school supplies that had spilled - his stuff partially mixed with hers in the crash.

“It’s fine! Neither of us were paying attention to where we were going.” Adrien reassures the stranger. She seems nice. Maybe they’ll see each around school.

Among the papers is a brooch. It isn’t his, so he slips it onto her papers, handing the messy bundle to her. She stuffs it into her bag hurriedly, turning to him questioningly.

“Are you new? I don’t think you go here, but I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere.”

He grins, maybe he can make a friend. It seems pretty easy. Sticking out his hand, he says, “Adrien Agreste. You’ve probably seen me on advertisements - my father is-”

“Gabriel Agreste.” she finishes with him, “That explains it. Welcome to Françoise Dupont.”

Her face grows panicked and she checks her phone hurriedly, “Oh no! I’ve got to go! It was nice to meet you! I’ll see you around!” she waves at him as she runs into the school at the same pace as earlier.

Adrien moves to follow her, but an impassive voice speaks from behind him.

“Adrien.” “Nathalie,” he turns, “Please, all I want-”

“Is to disobey your father’s very clear orders. If you get in the car now, we don’t have to tell him about your behaviour.”

“Nathalie-” he begins his plead, but cuts off as he notices an old man in a hawaiian shirt on the sidewalk. He’s fallen over and is reaching for his cane, which has slipped from his hands. Adrien rushes over to help the man, handing him the walking stick and waiting for him to begin walking before returning to Nathalie.

The woman and his bodyguard have blocked his path to the school’s entrance.

The model hangs his head and enters the car silently.

At least he tried.

--- 

Much Later

Marinette crouches on her desk chair, peeking at the computer screen where Alya’s live footage of the latest akuma. This one is the Third? Fourth? She isn’t entirely sure.

“Marinette! Don’t forget to finish that project!” her mother’s voice calls up the stairs.

Right. Right. An akuma attack is no excuse to procrastinate.

She looks over her papers. What’s that one sheet? There’s one that Marinette is pretty sure she saved from last year for this very purpose…

Right. It’s with all her stuff from the first day. She’d dumped it all in a corner of her room at lunch that day. She’d over prepared as usual and her bag was heavier than she liked.

Digging through the pile, she pauses when she sees a blue brooch slip out.

What? That’s not hers, she’s never seen it before.

She picks it up, hoping to find some marking of the owner and stumbles backward in shock when a soft blue light floats out of the jewelry.

A blue creature that resembles a peacock opens its eyes slowly, turning to the pig-tailed designer.

“Ah! A b-bird! A mouse! A b-birdmouse?!” Marinette’s eyes never leave the strange creature as she crawls backwards on her hands.

“A mouse?! A mere, simple ‘bird’?! I resent that! I am a peafowl. I am the queen of birds, and will be revered as such! I am the unequalled- unparalleled - empress of feathered beings!”

“Birdmouse talks!” Marinette hasn’t broken out of her shock.

“What did I just say?! Ugh, this is what happens when they don’t give me a true peafowl. Hmm.” the Kwami flits close, indifferent to Marinette’s discomfort, “What are you? A bug. That’s my guess.”

“I’m not-” “Which means it’s right. I know these things. If I say you’re a bug, you’re a bug.”

A loud crash comes from the computer, attracting the attention of the pair.

“Hmph. You could have told me that Nooroo was being misused. Goodness.”

“N-Nooroo?” Marinette’s voice is shaky, and she slowly works her way to a standing position, leaning heavily on her desk. The Kwami pins the brooch to her quickly before returning to the screen.

“Yes! Nooroo! The butterfly Kwami! See that akuma?! It isn’t supposed to be a villain. Honestly, humans these days!”

“Wh-What do you want m-me to do about it?!”

“Nothing.” the peafowl deadpans.

“O-Oh. B-but-”

“It’s called sarcasm darling! Does no one respect my inventions anymore?!”

“O-Oh. Okay.” “Ugh. This’ll be a slow century. Listen up sweetheart, because I’ll only say this once. My name is Duusu. I am a Kwami. I grant you magical powers to transform you into a hero so that you can fight evil. You’ll look gorgeous of course - that’s just part of being me. Anyways, you can create an amok - figure that out once you’ve transformed, it’ll be instinctual - to assist you and whatever lucky soul gets to bask in your presence during your battles. Got it?”

“I th-think so?”

“Great! I love first-time transformations! Makeovers are always fun! The phrase is ‘spread my feathers’ and ‘fall my feathers’, now go! Come on! I’m so excited!”

“Sp-spread my feathers?” Marinette feels the magic wash over her. Despite her trepidation, she can’t help but admit to herself that there’s a certain giddiness at magically transforming from plain-old-Marinette to-

To-

To what exactly? She goes to the mirror and inspects herself. She’s wearing a hooded cape that shifts form a lighter to darker brown the further down it goes. The hood juts out in a sharp-ish white beak shape. A black mask sits around her eyes, though the beak makes it difficult to see her face anyways. Beneath the cape, her bodysuit is mostly white like the beak, though it is speckled with brown. Nearing the neck it is a brighter turquoise blue-green. It is here that the brooch sits, holding the cape together. Her legs are a dark brown edging on black and she wears simple boots over her feet.

It’s not bad.

The unnamed heroine exits through the trapdoor, looking around her balcony in confusion as she realizes she has no idea how to get around.

A breeze goes by, and she wants to go with it. Peacocks are birds so they must fly… right?

She leaps from the roof and giggles hysterically when instead of plummeting to her death she glides softly to the next building. She continues in this manner, getting the hang of it eventually.

It’s only when she arrives at the site of the attack that she realizes she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Chat Noir is the one who deals with this.

He doesn’t know her.

He wouldn’t trust her.

No one should trust her.

She’s just some girl playing hero.

She’ll only make things worse.

She should just go. Tell Duusu to find someone else, someone better.

“Hey! Who’re you?!” Alya’s voice carries over the rooftops and the peahen girl freezes.

She’s been spotted.

Chat Noir hears the shout, but misunderstands, “Alya, I’ve told you to stay away from the attacks! I can fill you in on the akuma afterwards if that’s what it’ll take-”

“No! Not you or him! Them!” Alya directs the boy’s gaze to the rooftops, just in time to see a brown blur race away.

That’s new.

---

“What was that?! Running away?! Peacocks are proud-”

“I’m not meant to be a hero.” Marinette turns to the Kwami tearfully, “I’m sorry, you should find someone else.”

Duusu pauses. She’s used to her holders being self-assured and confident. Loud and proud. She’s had some experience with holders that aren’t a true peafowl, but any Kwami can tell you it just isn’t the same.

This girl is hers now though. At least until Duusu says otherwise.

“No. If I say you’re my hero, then you’re my hero. End of story. Period. No questi-”

“But-” Marinette interrupts.

“Period, no question marks!” Duusu retorts, “I said that you’re going to be a spectacular hero and that is what you’re going to be. I don’t like being wrong, so I just don’t do that.”

Marinette gives her a soft smile and Duusu puffs up her tail in pride.

“That’s it! Now you’re going to be a great hero, just you wait!”

“Is there anything else I should know?”

Duusu hesitates, ‘Well…”

The girl stiffens, “What?”

“The miraculous is… broken. Using it can be…” she hums, spinning a feather as she thinks, ”Volatile.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“It’s going to drain you. Especially when you transform. Over time it might get… more severe.” at the panicked look she rushes to finish before she is rudely interrupted, “But I’m sure it’ll be sorted by then.”

“Okay…”

Duusu is relieved that she doesn’t ask how to fix it. The Guardian must remain a secret for now. 

This girl isn’t a true peacock - especially considering she got peahen coloring - which would typically be a relief in this case. A broken miraculous is extra draining to a chosen that meshes well with it, so Marinette would typically be a little safer. Except she’s probably a Ladybug. The Ladybug miraculous is usually the one to fix things like that and if the brooch recognizes her as a Ladybug it may drain her further in an attempt to fix itself - to no avail.

For now, there’s no sense in worrying. They’ll just have to wait and see.

---

Author’s Note: I don't think I'll have a regular update schedule for this. It'll just be more random - whenever I end up with the inspiration to work on it. I do have a general timeline worked out though, so I do plan on getting around to finishing it eventually, it just won't be as regular as With Time.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

Next

[fulldiarywords]

What is it?

He’d shown up at your workmate Harriet’s Halloween do in a First World War helmet and officer’s jacket thrown carelessly over a t shirt and jeans. This was the first thing you’d noticed. Well, that and the fact that it wasn’t some cheap costume ordered online. The round helmet and coat were unusually accurate - as you took another sip of the warm and flat beer you’d been clutching for an hour, you wondered if he was that dedicated to historical accuracy or just an insufferable nerd.

“Nice hat”

“Sorry?” The din of the crowded party was still loud even in the kitchen - Harriet’s screeches at her boyfriend about spilt wine echoed down the corridor.  You smirked a bit and answered, a bit louder this time.

“I said you’ve got a nice hat there.”

He raised his eyebrows towards the brim. “Oh yeah - this old thing. Figured it would work for tonight.”

“Where’d you pick it up?”, you asked. “The Imperial War Museum?”

He laughed and moved a bit closer to you. “Nah, security there is too tight these days. I actually borrowed it from a friend at work. Harriet invited me last minute and you know...didn’t want to get panicked about putting something together.”

You noticed that there was almost a hint of a blush in his cheeks, but then again, Harriet had been lazy about replacing the bulb in one of the overhead lights and maybe you secretly wanted him to react to your teasing.

“Where on earth do you work that you can pick up a World War One helmet?” You took another sip of beer.

“Hah - yeah. Bit odd isn’t it? I work in films.” He had taken it off and it was turning it clockwise in a circle.  

You nodded, slightly impressed.

“George, by the way.” He had stuck his free hand out and motioned towards the nearly empty glass in yours. “Want another one?”

And then there were too many another one’s to count and he turned to you in a cramped living room, his shoulders moving back and forth to the song on the tinny speaker and said “nice hat”, his fingers pinching the brim of your witch hat. And if you had to pin it down to a second, that was the moment that you knew that you found yourself wandering into the deep end of the pool you’d tried to keep yourself out of for so long. A sort of warmth grew in your chest as you closed your eyes and laughed at his poor attempt to flirt. It wasn’t the shitty lager or dancing in a room warmed by too many bodies. It was something else.

Later that week, numbers exchanged but still an uncomfortable silence between you and him, you went to the cinema with a friend. And there he was, in that unusually accurate helmet, running across that screen through war. He forgot to mention that work meant starring in a major motion picture loaded with award season buzz and you shouldn’t be shocked when you unexpectedly saw him in a trailer for the film.  

After the movie, you sent him a text. I want to know more about you and that stupid helmet. Let’s get a drink?

I’ve been anxious to tell you more about it.  Sounds wonderful.

And here you are. A year and a bit later and the man in the helmet, George, is sitting across from you and asking for the bill at Mon Plasir, the tiny french restaurant you loved in Covent Garden. That man in the helmet became just George quick and fast and you won’t admit to anyone, but you think you fell in love with him for the first time when you brought him here for a fourth date; maybe it was the way that he wouldn’t stop speaking with the waiter in terrible broken French about how delicious the escargot was. But it was so much more than that. It was the way he got excited about the little things you liked - like this cramped French bistro that wasn’t necessarily that great but you still loved it anyways for its 60+ year history and the way you could eventually charm the waiters out of grumpily slamming the bread basket on the table.

“Shall we go?” He asks with a small smile, his eyes crinkling just the slightest bit.

You finish the last sip of wine in a gulp and nod in agreement - “Sure. Let’s take the tube home though. I need to walk a bit”

“Oof, yeah. Definitely need to walk that duck off.”  He says, stretching his arms out in front of him and miming a round belly.  You push the chair back, and he stands to help you with your coat.

It’s hard to be annoyed with him in the dim light of the restaurant - his hair, back to your preferred state of messy curls, golden in the candle light and his eyes heavy with the promise of sleep after the late dinner.  But still. A man as handsome as George can’t always use that as an excuse to get off easy.

“As long as you don’t quack the entire way home.”

He rolls his eyes at your attempt of a terrible joke.

Outside, it’s cold. Early December has brought an expected chill in the wind and he wraps his arm around your shoulder as the two of you begin to silently walk through the maze of Covent Garden.  After a few minutes, he lets his arm fall, trying to slow down his pace to match your shorter legs.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He looks back towards you.

“What do you mean tell you what’s wrong?”

“Well, something is up.”

You speed up a bit. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired.”

“C’mon.”

“Honestly, George. I’m fine.”

“Fine is a pretty broad description.”

“It’s nearly midnight. What did you expect? We went for a meal at ten at night on a Tuesday. I’m tired.”

He stops in front of you, blocking your way on the pavement. “You did that thing all through dinner.”

“What thing?”

“You know what I’m talking about. That thing you do when you’re upset about something and you stare at the middle of my eyebrows to try and trick me into thinking that you’re making eye contact with me.”

You sigh, annoyed at yourself for smiling at his attention to detail. “How do you know I do that?”

He smirks back at you. It should be pretty obvious at this point that I can’t stop looking at your face so it’s not hard to notice when you’re pretending to look at mine.”

You walk around him, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat and pulling it closer to you.

“I’m not really in the mood to discuss it.”

It. That it that you couldn’t really name. That lingering feeling, underneath the warmth in your chest, that this whole thing - George - might be too good and it might not last. There wasn’t anything to actually give you some proof of that. After the first month, you understood that.  You also knew that this relationship was going to take work. He wasn’t always going to be around. He was going to take roles that left him silent and distant when he came home late from the set. There would be months long stretches where being in a relationship meant a few weekends of naked and desperate in bed for as long as two of you could manage or laying on the couch, trying to capture as much normalcy as you could. But you knew this when you signed on for the long haul. And you had your own life too. Your own family, your own friends, your own career.  But then those lines began to blur and you found yourself knowing where the forks and knives were in his parents kitchen when his mum asked you to be a dear and set the table. And George knew that your father didn’t really like Indian food so he shouldn’t suggest it as an idea for a family dinner again. Your friends blended into his group of friends during long pint fueled nights out at the Tiger and in the morning afterwards, he’d slip out of bed, pulling his boxers up. He always managed to wake you up though - George seemed to lose his coordination when hungover. And he’d smile back at you and mumble ‘morning, lovely’ and promise a tea in bed delivered to you in 5 minutes or less.  And that is it. Even if he forgets to close the kitchen cupboards or wipe up the toothpaste in the sink after spitting it out.  That is the it that you don’t want to lose because you’re not sure if it’s just simply too good to be real. How would you fill the space he left if he was gone?

A stranger does a double take at George as they pass and he behind him to make sure that they aren’t stopping.

“Look. I know you’re not, but I’ve just got back from Ireland and I think we should probably sort this out. I don’t want to come home on a bad note, you know?”

You don’t respond.

“Is it about me being gone? The film’s wrapped. You know that. I’m all yours now.”

And this is also it. The second layer of that lingering doubt. You never planned on being with an actor. Fuck, you didn’t even know Harriet knew actors. The two of you worked in a normal person office - how did you get so deep with an actor?  You had no clue as to navigate these waters.  George didn’t want to be famous. He just wanted to practice his craft. He wanted to make art with other people who wanted to create something beautiful and that was beautiful to you when he spent the first morning after, lying in bed, sheets at his waist, rambling on about the importance of collaboration in film. But all that beauty and earnestness comes with a touch of fame and that meant a fierce longing to keep what you had private. You and George agreed that it didn’t feel quite right yet to attend every public event yet. But he wanted you there for the ones that mattered to him. So, you arrived separately but sat together, his hand clammy in yours. You found that when you leaned into his neck and whispered “don’t forget to breathe, darling”, his nervous tension eased up and the creases of his suit smoothed out. And then there was the possibility. The possibility that he would find someone else - there were all those costars to compete with, the actresses gliding down red carpets, journalists flirting through interview questions. And you were just..you.. You snored a bit too loud and looked like a mole rat without mascara. How could you compare to what he had available?

“George. Really.”

He pulls you into the threshold of a closed greeting card shop. “No. We need to talk about this. You were like the other weekend. Don’t think I didn’t notice”

Sucking your cheeks in, you reach for a cigarette in your purse. He fumbles in his pockets and finds a matchbook, lighting it for you.

“Why are you so fucking observant sometimes?”

“Well...I mean...I pretend to be other people so..”

Exasperated, you give him a slight push on the shoulder.

“It’s because I love you,” he continues, “And when something’s off with us, I worry. I worry about you.”

You lower the cigarette. He meets your eyes - silent and waiting for an answer.

“Maybe I’m worried.”

“About what?”

You frantically gesture at the space between the two of you. “This. This whole thing.”

“What? Us?”

“Yeah. Us. I dunno, George. You think we’ll be ok?”

“How much bloody wine did you drink?”

You sigh and take a drag of your cigarette. “No I’m being serious! It’s just...what if…”

“What if what?”

“What if at some point you dread coming back here because you don’t want to come back here to me and there’s no way of us making it through.”

He takes your hand in yours and gently pulls you closer. You grind the cigarette out with your boot.

“You had me worried for a second. I thought you were asking something serious like what if the moon exploded…”

“George!”

“Ok ok. I’m sorry.”

You can feel your jaw clenching. “I’m not being silly. I’m nervous.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be.”

“Why?

He shakes his head a bit, and reaches his arm past your shoulder, propping himself against the brick wall of the store.

“If I didn’t think this was going to work, why would I ask you to move in with me?”

Wiggling from underneath his frame, your eyes widen. “You haven’t asked me to move in with you.”

“Well. Yeah. I’m doing it now.”

“Ok.”

“I want you to move in with me because I’m tired of coming back to an empty flat and I want to come back to wherever you are. And I want you to be there with your stack of magazines that you keep buying and never reading in the home that we share.  And if I didn’t love you... If I didn’t want to spend the next how many ever years I have left on this planet with you and those fucking magazines, would I ask you to move in with me?”

You lean into his chest. His heart is moving fast and slow all at the same time - the beats radiating from beneath the canvas of his jacket.

“Ok.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around you. “Ok? That’s all you’ve got to say after all that?”

“Well yeah. And we are living south of the river. I love you but I’m not living in fucking Kentish Town.”

His laughs vibrate against your mouth as he presses his lips into yours. You open your lips slightly and he deepens the kiss, pushing himself against you and the wall.

And this is it. This is the it that you won’t lose because you have to lose yourself - all that fear-  in some way and give into knowing that he will keep you. That this will work. This is an it that will work out.

“Can we get a cab to yours?”, he whispers into your ear, his breath warm and heavy. “Dunno if I can stand the time it’s gonna take to take the tube and the bus.”

You smile as he moves his lips down your jawline towards your neck. “Absolutely.”

He spins out of the threshold, his arm waving frantically at oncoming traffic. Looking back, he says, “Might not be able to make it all the way to the bedroom….”

“The stairwell is just as romantic.”

[hayleysstark]

Queenie again! The whump train keeps on rolling! Two more ideas: Arthur discovers scars on Merlin's back from when he recently saved a poor servant girl from her cruel master in the lower towns; or, Gaius and Merlin have a heart to heart after Gaius catches Merlin crying in his room, holding Balinor's carving. Merlin says it is the anniversary of his father's death, and he feels so guilty he couldn't save him, and upset they didn't have more time together

I wish you would write a fic where… Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)

okAY LISTEN I KNOW YOU SAID “OR” BUT YOU CAN’T JUST GIVE ME TWO BOMB-ASS PROMPTS LIKE THAT AND THEN MOONWALK AWAY FROM MY PROBLEMS HJTGHGFRGFGBFGB I could NOT pick which one I liked better, so I went ahead and wrote up both!! I’m just gonna,,,,,, dump them both here I guess and separate them with a lil line hjhyggfb oh my god this post is going to be so fucking long I’m sorry and the “read more” still doesn’t work ;A; I hope you like them, Queenie!! <33  ((why are all your prompts SO GOOD oof I can’t wait to write that last one!!)) 

Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to send me a prompt, but please don’t send me any more!! I don’t have time to tackle them all, so I’m just going to write the rest still in my inbox and then call it a day!!

It’s not like scars are anything new to Arthur.

He has to look at them every day, after all—the age-old hurts wind their way down his body like a river on a map, broad white grooves, and puckered pink scabs and narrow reddish slashes all burned into his suntanned flesh—but that is the mark of a soldier.

It is the price asked of every knight, every warrior, every fighter, and it is a small price to pay to protect the kingdom he so loves.

But that—

That’s Arthur. Arthur is a knight. A warrior. A fighter. He protects his kingdom and pays the price with a smile on his face.

Merlin does not.

So there shouldn’t be any reason, then, for—

“What the hell is this?”

Merlin makes an exasperated little noise in the back of his throat. “Don’t have eyes in the back of my head, Sire.”

“No, what is this?” Because it looks—just looks, mind you, it could be anything, really, anything at all, anything in the world, but it looks—

—it looks like Merlin has been flogged.

And Arthur is going to tear apart the kingdom to find the bastard that did it.

“Arthur,” Merlin huffs, and twists his head around a little to look at him, “you’re going to have to be more specific than that, because last I checked—”

“You’ve got goddamn whip lashes on your back!” Arthur snarls it out through his teeth before he can think about it, before he can stop himself.

“—oh,” Merlin says. Suddenly, he’s about a hundred times paler, and he ducks his head to stare down to the ground. Like not looking at Arthur will make everything go away. Merlin can be such a child sometimes.

“Yes,” Arthur says, sharply, to the top of Merlin’s head. “Oh.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Lucky for you,” Arthur says, “I think we’ve got time.”

“No,” Merlin says, to the grass beneath him, “no, I don’t think we do.”

Arthur’s patience, already stretched thin as paper, snaps its final, fraying thread. “Look me in the eye, Merlin, and tell me who did this to you?!”

“No one,” Merlin says at once. He still won’t raise his head. “It was an accident.”

“Someone whipped you!”

“No, not—not really, it wasn’t—”

“Not really?!” Arthur erupts. “How—how do you ‘not really’ whip someone? Explain that to me, Merlin!”

At least Merlin finally looks at him. “Arthur,” he says, softly, and very earnestly, “he was going to—” he shudders, as if in a winter storm, “he was going to attack his serving-girl.”

Arthur stops. The scorching, heavy heat of his fury doesn’t cool, but it falls back, a little, in the face of the words. “What—what are you talking—?”

“She didn’t do anything,” Merlin blurts, like that’s the most important bit, that’s the thing he wants Arthur to take away from all this, “she was only a girl, she was only a servant, she couldn’t fight him, she couldn’t say no, but he wouldn’t stop touching her and he wouldn’t leave her alone, and she was crying and she tried to run—”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, as calmly as he can manage, except it still comes out a little unsteady, and his stomach turns as he thinks of it, “I need you to start from the beginning. Now. What did you do?”

Merlin stops and swallows so hard Arthur can hear it clearly in the awful silence. “Earl Benton,” he says, at last, and chews lightly at his bottom lip. “He tried to hurt his serving-girl.” He cocks his head a little to one side, and arches a dark brow. “Primrose,” he says, like he thinks the name might stir a memory in Arthur. “I don’t know that you ever met her.”

“Earl Benton,” Arthur says, numbly, “from the Lower Town, do you mean?”

“I couldn’t let it happen,” Merlin says, as if Arthur hasn’t said anything at all. “And I—I was the only one around to do anything about it.”

“Earl Benton,” Arthur says, again, “has been dead for three years, Merlin.”

“Well,” Merlin says. He shifts a little in the grass. “Yes.”

“When—?” Arthur pushes himself to his feet. “When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t!”

Arthur snaps around to look at Merlin again. “You couldn’t? Suppose someone sewed your lips shut, then—?”

“If I’d told you, what would you have done?”

Executed Earl Benton, Arthur thinks, at once, because what else is there to do about it, what else can he do to a man who has tried to force himself on an innocent, defenseless serving-girl—wait—no—what can he do to a man who has tried to—?

There isn’t—

There isn’t a law against it.

Against what Earl Benton tried to do.

And it’s never once occurred to Arthur to change that.

And Merlin’s still looking at him.

“I-I would have done something,” Arthur says, finally, when he thinks he can manage it. “I wouldn’t have just let him get away with it.” And the second I ride back through the gates, I’m going to make a change, I’m going to make a lot of changes, no one will ever get away with what Earl Benton nearly got away with—

“Yeah,” Merlin says. “I know you would have.”

“So why didn’t you—?”

“And he would have turned around and assumed Prim had reported him to you.”

Arthur’s mouth snaps shut.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Merlin says, gently, “but I didn’t even know what I could have told you.”

“I wish you had,” Arthur says, at last. “I wish you hadn’t kept this from me. But—” he runs a hand down the side of his own tired face. “—but I understand why you did.” There’s something he’s sure he’s missing here, but it takes him a moment to figure out what it is. “And the girl? Primrose?”

“Oh,” Merlin says, and breaks out in a broad smile, “she’s handmaiden to Lady Wilkinson now. She loves it.”

Arthur nods. Lady Wilkinson is a good woman, humble in her speech, gracious even in her own hardship, and exceedingly kind to her servants. The girl will be safe with her.

“I’ll fix this, Merlin,” he says. “I swear I will.”

Merlin’s sunny smile softens slightly at the edges. “I know you will, Arthur,” he says. “I know you will.”

Things are just harder around this time of year.

That’s really all there is to it, the simple and bare-bones truth of the matter, and there is no getting better, no getting over it, no magical moment when it all goes away, when it feels even sort of all right, when he thinks maybe, just maybe, this cold and terrible ache inside me will ease, maybe one day, the weight on my chest won’t feel so heavy, maybe there will come a day when I finally feel like I can breathe—

Things are just harder for Merlin around this time of year, and there’s not anything that can ever make it better, but he’s learned to shut up and smile, he’s learned how to keep his chin up, how to hold his head so high no one can hear it when he breaks—but oh, God, he breaks, and it’s ugly, when he breaks, it’s messy, it hurts, it’s pain so sharp he cuts himself up on the edges, it’s nightmares and shadows under his eyes and tears soaking down in his sheets and I couldn’t sleep but I’m all right and a tiny, wooden dragon clutched closer than a child’s favorite toy to his hollow chest.

It’s ugly. It’s messy.

But at least it’s quiet. At least he has learned how to be quiet about it, how to sleep with his hand to his mouth so Gaius won’t hear the repulsive, wracking sobs ripping from his chest in the dead of the night when he can’t keep all the broken pieces inside him from spilling out.

At least he knows better now than to burden anyone with it.

Or. Well. He thought he knew better, but when Gaius comes back in, leftover tears still cling to Merlin’s cheeks in thin, sticky trails, and he tries to pull his lips up in a smile and say pollen or even Lady Wentworth’s perfume because that’s worked before, hasn’t it, on everyone, on Arthur, on Gwen and the knights and the sweet, worried serving-maids, and he’s not going to burden anyone with any of this, but Gaius’ old eyes flicker down the tiny, carven dragon in his trembling hand before he can drop it or hide it or put it down—

Merlin opens his mouth, and he tries to say something—anything, anything will do, anything will be better than this awful silence—but it sounds shaky, and stuttery, and stupid—ugly and messy, just like all the rest of it—and he doesn’t get much past the first syllable anyway because Gaius pushes the door all the way open then, and he steps inside, and he pulls Merlin to him in a tight hug, and Merlin—

—Merlin starts to cry.

And this time, he just can’t stop. The tears are just—just there, all of a sudden, in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks and dripping off his chin and running like a river, running like the sea, and the sobs are growing like plants in his chest, like flowers, like vines, thick and heavy and starving for the sun, and he can’t breathe around it all and he has to let it out and he opens up his mouth and he lets it out and he can breathe again but it’s all so ugly and messy and it hurts, and it shakes his body with the merciless, unforgiving force of it, and he can’t look at Gaius, he can’t look at anything, so he closes his eyes and he presses his forehead, hard as he can, to the rough cloth of the old man’s robes.

“—I should have saved him,” Merlin says, because he can’t do the right thing, the decent thing, and push Gaius away and say he’s fine, “I should have saved him, I should have tried, I should have—I should have done more—” He doesn’t even know if Gaius can hear him. He can hardly hear himself, words warped by the sobs and tears and thick red fabric of Gaius’ robes.

“No, Merlin,” Gaius says, and his hand is warm and firm on Merlin’s shuddering shoulders, “you did everything you could.”

“—I didn’t—” Merlin tries to shake his head, to say no, I should have done more, I could have done more, and you know it, too, don’t you, but he can’t, he can’t do it, because if he does, and Gaius shoves him away, says yes, you should have, you could have, and you didn’t, if Gaius says that, if Gaius blames him the way he knows he deserves to be blamed, the way he knows Balinor would blame him, were the man himself here to do it, if Gaius blames him, too, Merlin thinks he’ll crumble all to pieces, and he’ll never, ever be whole again.

—but—

“You did nothing wrong, my boy,” Gaius says, softly, like he can hear all the words Merlin doesn’t let himself say, and he smooths down Merlin’s uncombed hair with wrinkled hands. “You did nothing wrong. You are not to blame.”

“—he—” Merlin should pull back, should say he’s sorry, should leave Gaius alone now, because hasn’t he already put enough on the poor man’s weary shoulders, but he can’t, he can’t, he could swear Gaius is the only thing that’s kept him on his feet these last few minutes, and if he tries to let go, he thinks he really might fall, “—he was g-going to get his life back, Gaius.”

“I know,” Gaius says, heavily, like the words carry all the weight of all the world inside them.

“I was going t-to make him h-happy again.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Gaius’ hand tightens in his tangled hair, “if he met you, I would think he already was.”

[ai-suru-hito-yo]

Sweet Dreams 'Til Sunbeams Find You (Breaky)

Summary: Queen has been working diligently to break into the business, while two of their members work just as frantically academically. It catches up to one member in particular, but luckily, he's not alone in his struggles.

Pairing: Brian May/John Deacon

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm not dead! I started this a couple weeks ago with the intention of kicking off pride month with a little Breaky blurb. I've finally finished it, and I kind of love how fluffy it is. Anyway, check out the most cliche, cute trope y'all have read five thousand times, but I had to do it. Oh yeah and! I looked it up, Herbal Essece was fairly popular in the 70's, and the advertising seemed very John to me so....

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, and a reused trope. Also not beta'd, so all mistakes be mine own.

Brian woke with a start, moonbeams filtering in through the thin drapes of the window across the room. Not sure at first what woke him, he stared at the ceiling for a moment before rolling to his side, reaching over to pull his bedmate closer. That is, until his hand closed on air. He felt the sheets, cold but rumpled. He was certain he hadn't gone to sleep alone, and the state of the empty half of the bed supported this, but the other man must have risen some time in the night.

Puzzled, Brian listened for any movement that might indicate where John had gone. He didn't see any light coming from the attached bathroom, and so excluded that possibility. He could hear no movement from the rest of his flat, either. A sense of worry took up residence in the pit of Brian's stomach, pushing him from his bed and out of the room to investigate.

Upon opening the door, a dim flood of light streamed from the direction of the kitchen, casting a glow that was harsh to his ill-adjusted eyes. Blinking rapidly a few times against the discomfort, the curly-haired man quietly made his way down the hall and to the main part of his flat.

The sight Brian found in the kitchen immediately banished the feeling in his gut, his heart instead doing somersaults behind his ribcage.

There in the sturdiest (and therefore least squeaky) of the mismatched dining chairs sat John, slumped over the table, open math textbook for a pillow. His bag lay open at his feet, notebooks, pencils, a compass and a teacup surrounding him on the table, face hidden by long, disheveled hair.

Brian looked on fondly for a moment, remembering a conversation he and John had just three days ago. John had been worried about balancing school with the band, a stress that Brian himself felt almost constantly. He figured John must have woken at some point in the night and, in a panic, made his way back the the kitchen to double check his work.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, the tall man quietly made his way over the the sagging couch, gathering up the blanket that lay draped over it. He quietly turned toward the sleeping figure at the table, contemplating whether to leave John to sleep in his uncomfortable position or wake him to coax him back into bed. Deciding he could not bear to wake him, Brian gently draped the blanket over John's sagging shoulders. He leaned close and pressed a kiss to the soft locks of long, brown hair, lingering for a moment to inhale the familiar, comforting scent of John's Herbal Essence shampoo.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispered. "I hope you find peace with all of this soon."

He then turned to leave, intending to slip quietly back into bed, when he heard a deep intake of breath from behind him and froze. John suddenly shot up straight, looking around himself in a panic before he seemed to remember where he was. As he stretched his arms over his head, John caught sight of the blanket falling around him, then of Brian frozen in the doorway.

"Bri? Whaydoin?"

Brian faced John again, watching as his lover's head drooped toward the table again. Now that John had stirred, he decided he should probably take the opportunity to try and move him back to bed.

The guitarist folded his tall figure down, kneeling next to John in the chair to try and see his face. Grey-green eyes were hidden behind droopy eyelids, and John plush lips had parted with his soft breaths. He looked peaceful, but Brian knew that John would be supremely uncomfortable and unrested if left here all night. He reached out to tangle his long fingers gently in John's soft hair, hoping the gently stimulation would help wake him.

"John? John, lovely, wake up for me, please? Deacy, you've fallen asleep on your maths textbook."

John woke with another deep breath, blinking groggily at Brian.

"Hmm?"

"Love, you've fallen asleep at the table, on your textbook. Please come back to bed?"

"Hmm'kay."

Brian started to rise to his feet again, feeling victorious, when he suddenly found his arms full of bassist. John had turned and fling his arms over Brian's shoulders, letting his weight fall onto the older man.

"John, no! Oof..." Brian barely managed to catch John wothout falling backwards onto the floor. "John. This isn't what I meant. Come on love, come back to bed with me, it'll be far more comfortable."

John only nuzzled his nose against Brian's neck and mumbled something that sounded like, "you're comfortable."

Realizing this was not going to be easy, Brian took a deep breath and pushed back against John. His patience was wearing thin, he just wanted to take his boyfriend back to bed and hold him. We'll have to do this the hard way, I suppose.

Brain pushed John back into the chair and quickly got to his feet again. He took John's hands and pulled him upright before hooking John's hands around his neck. Thankfully John got the idea then, even in his half conscious state, and wrapped his arms around Brian's shoulders. The taller man then wrapped his own long arms around John's tiny waist and pulled him upward, forcing him to stand.

John wobbled on unsteady feet, and Brian held his lover close against his body as John fully woke up.

"Wha-what?! Brian!"

"It's alright love, I've got you."

"Oh. Oh. Did I...fall asleep?" John asked, glancing at the table beside them. He let go of Brian's neck, instead smoothing his large hands over Brian's shoulders and letting them rest on the older man's chest.

Brian looked down fondly at the man in his arms. "Yes. I woke up and couldn't find you, you had me worried for a moment."

John simply smiled softly by way of an apology and reached up to press a light kiss to the guitarist's full bottom lip. They broke apart softly, lingering in each other's space. Hazel eyes peering into green, searching for any signs of dishonesty, Brian asked, "Are you alright? Everything going okay with your schoolwork."

Looking down toward their feet, John quietly sighed before answering.

"Yeah, it's alright, I guess. I just...had a bad dream."

Brian tucked a finger under John's chin, encouraging him to look up again. When he once again met green eyes in the dim kitchen lighting, Brian tried to give the bassist a comforting smile.

"You want to talk about it? You know you can talk to me."

"Yes, I know."

"Even if I'm asleep. You can wake me up. I don't mind."

"Yes. I probably won't, but thank you."

"John."

"Brian."

"John."

John reach up to tangle long fingers in messy black curls, giving a soft tug in protest of Brian's stubbornness.

"Brian, it was nothing, really. I had a bad dream that I'd gotten every calculation wrong in this project I've been working on, and knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I checked them. So I did, and then I made some tea, and must have nodded off. It's silly, and there's no need for you to worry."

Brian smiled before leaning in to press another soft kiss to pouty pink lips. "Well, if you're sure. Come on, let's go back to bed."

"Mmm, yes, let's."

Once they had both settled back between the sheets, Brian with his arm tucked securely around John, pressed chest to back, Brian couldn't help but ask.

"Deacy?"

"Hm? Yeah Brimi?"

"Your calculations. What was the verdict?"

"Oh they were all fine, of course."

Brian laughed, pressing his face into John's hair, and fell back asleep surrounded by warmth and the smell of Herbal Essence.

[lovlieziam]

Can you please do the 28 'You hit me' with Ziam? 😊

Honestly I have no excuse for this. I promise this was not where I originally intended to go with this story. It just kinda…ended up there.

28. You hit me!

Liam hadn’t meant to, he really hadn’t. It’s just, oneminute he was wrestling with Louis—which Louis had started with his constantpestering; really, Liam could only take so much—and the next the back of hishand was connecting with Zayn’s stomach.

Liam watched, horrified, as Zayn doubled over, a small ‘oof’escaping his lips as the air rushed out of his lungs. Guilt immediately clawed itsway up Liam’s throat, sitting there as Liam tried to force apologies out aroundit. Louis, the bastard, was quick to make his retreat.

“’M so sorry, Zayn. I didn’t know you were there. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I really didn’tmean to, ‘m so so sorry.” He rushed forward, trying to see if Zayn was okay. Ifhe would just answer Liam, but he wasstill bent over with his hand on his stomach. Logically, Liam knew he hadn’thit Zayn that hard—really, it’d just been the back swing of him wrenching hisown hand away from Louis; there was hardly any force behind it—but Zayn wasreally starting to worry him. He reached a hand out, resting it on Zayn’sshoulder when—

“You hit me,” Zayn whispered. He was still looking at theground and the guilt just kept consumingLiam.

“I know, I didn’t mean to. ‘M really, really sorry. I—” Andthis time Liam felt the air leave his own lungs. It took him a minute toregister what had just happened—why one minute he’d been staring at Zayn asworry and fear ate him up inside, and the next he’s staring at the ceiling, amop of messy black hair beginning to fill his vision.

Zayn had just tackled him. Zayn had just tackled him.

“Zayn,” Liam wheezed. “What the fuck?”

Zayn giggled from his perch above Liam—and Liam tried reallyhard not to think about the fact that Zayn was straddling him, he really did—andhis nose scrunched up from the joy radiating through him. He was fuckingadorable and Liam found it really inconvenient.

“You hit me, Leeyum. This means war.” Liam had barelyprocessed the words before he was gasping, giggles escaping his own lips asZayn’s fingers relentlessly attacked his sides.

Oh, it was so on.

Liam reached up, grabbing both of Zayn’s hands in his own,effectively cutting off the tickling. He pulled Zayn’s hands upward until Zaynhad no choice but to fall forward a little, allowing Liam to use his momentumto roll them so Liam was the one on top this time. He pinned Zayn’s hands abovehis head, making him momentarily immobile. He shot a victorious grin down atZayn.

“That was a pretty short-lived war, Z. Didn’t think you’d bethat easy to beat. Definitely over estimated you.”

Zayn smirked up at Liam, his lips curving in a way that madeLiam ache with wanting. Fuck, but Zayn would be the end of him.

“Oh, Liam,” Zayn practically fucking purred, and it sent a shot of lust straight through Liam. He was sodistracted by the red of Zayn’s lips and that deep baritone that he wasn’tprepared at all when Zayn flipped them again. It was a fluid move; one Liamwasn’t ashamed to admit he was impressed with. And a little turned on, butthere was no way in hell he’d admit thatto anyone. “We’ve only just begun.”

And fuck if thatdidn’t send a thrill racing through Liam. Liam silently accepted the challengeZayn just gave him, wiggling, pushing his wrists up against Zayn’s palms, andraising his knees to plant his feet. He twisted his body, keeping up a constantstate of movement in the hopes of dislodging Zayn, but none of it worked. Hetried bucking his hips up to try and throw Zayn from his position, but itbackfired spectacularly. Liam thought it would help. He thought it might give him the upper hand, but all it didwas make Zayn tighten his knees around Liam’s hips, forcing his ass more firmlyagainst Liam’s dick and really thatdidn’t give Liam the upper hand at all. In fact, it became the only thingLiam could concentrate on—the rough press of Zayn’s hips and Liam’s ownall-consuming want. Liam was sothrown off, so lost in the feeling of Zayn surrounding him that he was fucking drowning and even more at risk of losingthis little battle than before. There was no way he would be able to over powerZayn when he was constantly fighting with his own arousal.

Zayn seemed to sense his impending victory because he sentanother one of those fucking smirksdown at Liam, his eyes dancing with mirth as they focused on Liam’s own gaze.

Liam might have been fighting an inner battle, but he wasn’tgoing to just let Zayn sit there all smug with his stolen victory, so he gave one last effort to throw Zayn. He pushedhis own arms higher, stretching them out on the carpet beneath him. He knewZayn would either be forced to let go or adjust to the stretch, meaning itwould bring his face closer to Liam’s. Liam, dumbly, assumed he would let go.Zayn definitely did not let go.

Liam couldn’t concentrate as Zayn tightened the grip on hiswrists and giggled. Liam quiteliterally felt like he was burning up from the inside out and Zayn was giggling. It really shouldn’t haveturned him on as much as it did.

He knew that Zayn was just goofing around—wrestling wassomething they all did to relieve a bit of pent up tension—but Liam couldn’thelp but want. He wanted Zayn to keeptalking to him in that husky voice. He wanted Zayn to keep sending him thoselittle smirks that drove him wild. He wanted Zayn to keep pinning him down, buthe wanted it somewhere else. Somewhere that involved more sheets and lessclothes.

Liam was so lost in his thoughts of Zayn and all the ways hewanted him that his breath was once again stolen from him when Zayn lowered hishead down until his lips were inchesfrom Liam’s. Liam felt his pulse race through his veins, his focus narrowingdown to just Zayn. The warmth ofZayn’s breath ghosting over his lips, the pressure of Zayn’s fingers digginginto his wrists, the weight of Zayn’s ass pressed against his dick. It wasdecidedly intimate, and Liam couldn’tcatch his damn breath. All he could see was Zayn: his eyes focused so intentlyon Liam’s, his warmth slowly seeping into Liam until he was surrounded. ForLiam, everything in that moment was simply ZaynZaynZayn.It was intoxicating.

“I think you lost, Leeyum,” Zayn breathed out. His voice wasso fucking low, intimate in a waythat went straight to Liam’s dick. There would be no hiding what he was feelingif Zayn kept it up.

Liam knew he should respond, but his mind was completelyblank; useless in the face of everything Zayn was unconsciously offering. Liamlicked his lips, grasping for something to say, anything to say back.

Zayn’s eyes dropped down as Liam darted his tongue acrosshis bottom lip. They tracked the movement, the pupils dilating slightly asZayn’s own lips parted on a rushed-out breath.

Suddenly several things clicked into place for Liam. Thefirst was that, much like himself, Zayn was breathing rapidly; his chest risingand falling more quickly than the effort they put into their wrestling calledfor. The second was that there was lustin Zayn’s eyes right now—more than likely the same lust that was reflected inLiam’s own. Third was that they were just staringat each other when Liam was sure they could be making out. Well, he was mostlysure. So, he surged up, bumping his lips roughly against Zayn’s in hiseagerness to kiss him. It was sort of awkward at first, their teeth clashed fromLiam’s force and the angle was slightly off. Then he felt the startled inhaleZayn took before he was pressing forward, too, relaxing his full weight intoLiam.

Zayn adjusted their position, shifting his hips forward topress closer to Liam, changing the angle and making everything so much better.Liam felt a moan erupt from deep in his chest and straight into Zayn’s eagermouth when he shifted, the impatient slide of Zayn’s ass sending electricshocks up Liam’s spine.

Zayn licked into his mouth, no longer shy about taking whathe wanted from Liam. Liam found himself giving back with just as much enthusiasm,the kiss spit slick and so fucking perfect.

Zayn pulled away too soon for Liam’s liking, his chestheaving and his lips a distracting shade of red as he stared down at Liam.

“Fuck, Li. Where the fuck did you learn to kiss like that?”

Liam grinned up at Zayn, sending him a wink—or what was supposed to be a wink. Liam never wasvery good at them. Zayn giggled, leaning down to press his lips against Liam’sagain, this one even dirtier than the last.

[maxskulline]

Tangled up in messy sheets after a night of little sleep, Guzma lays his head back on her lap. He reaches up his hand, fingertips beginning to poke and prod idly at the countless of freckles dotting her features as if he were counting stars. "Anybody ever tell you how cute these fuckin' things are? 'Cause I wanna be the first: they fuckin' cute."

They really could’ve slept in a little longer. Guzma, as always driven by some fit of restlessness, is the first to stir and light himself a morning smoke. Max can’t feel the shifting of the bed, doesn’t hear the gentle clicking of his lighter or the strained creaking of this rusty old bedframe when Guzma maneuvers his huge body into an upright position. What ends up waking her runs a little deeper, something she can only describe as an intuition. Her body reacts to Guzma like a flower to dusk’s first sunlight. Announcing herself with a long and hearty yawn, Max rolls to her front for a stretch. First her legs, then her arms, then all at once, accompanied by a satisfied moan when life returns into her limbs. Sometimes one’s left to wonder if Rosie’s cat-like habits have rubbed off on her. 

She pushes her torso backwards and sits on her knees, binds her messy hair together and gets comfortable against a propped up cushion. It’s become somewhat of a habit to let him finish his first smoke before any conversation is made, but she chirps a “morning” at him anyway. Lack of sleep is making her eyes water and she doesn’t want to think about the state she must look, but - well, all the times Guzma has let her stay the night kind of blurred into something that feels like ‘since forever’. Point is he’s seen this girl look far worse before and still thinks she’s the sexiest little thing. Main reason Max looks like a hot mess is him anyway and Guzma seems to take great pride in this fact. 

He stubs out the cigarette and falls backwards without warning whatsoever. Before Max can say a thing, he’s got his head comfortably settled in her lap - and not without a tranquil tune humming from his phone. Max’s first instinct is to reach into the wild, white mane. Guzma’s hair always feels so soft. First time she touched it, Max remembers how surprised she was at the lack of product he’s using to keep it maintained. Long, manicured nails scrape along his hairline with gentle pressure, trace his sideburns and ears, then chin, then fall forwards to rest on his chest. “Hey,” she murmurs into their comfortable silence.

She could easily nod off like this. Guzma, on the other hand, is wide awake. Her eyes flutter open and the unnatural hue remains locked with his own, silver gaze when Guzma’s rough fingertips begin to caress and prod at her skin. They take journey along Maxy’s collarbone and slender neck, the soft mounds of her breasts, then her cheeks. Takes a moment to realize what he’s doing, but when it hits, Max is sure he can feel the heat seeping from her skin. Arceus, she’s never let anybody do this before - when people tried, and they did, she has had cut ‘em off before the intimacy could be taken too far. With Guzma, Max doesn’t mind. She welcomes it, leans into his touch like her body’s taken control over mind. Her heart skips a beat before Guzma sends it into complete overdrive. 

               "Anybody ever tell you how cute these fuckin’ things are? ‘Cause I wanna be the first: they fuckin’ cute.” 

Fuck. Oh, please don’t fucking lose your cool now, Max. But she is totally, absolutely losing her cool when her face turns bright red and she lets loose the dumbest, silliest, love-struck giggle Guzma’s possibly ever heard. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. This ain’t like Max in the slightest, and she absolutely hates how easily this asshole can disarm her. Hates it, but loves it all the more. 

“What, you trying to pick me up when I’m already in your bed, Guz?” Max falls back to their usual banter because it’s the only way she can try not to look like a complete dumbass. It ain’t working because Guzma’s grinning and peeking right through her shit. Max pokes out her tongue in a ‘It’s too early for this shit’-gesture, but he can see how much she’s soaking up his softer side. “Well,” Max buries her entire face in his white crown, “You are not the first who ever said it, but you’re the first I want to hear it from.”

Max moves and lets Guzma’s head hit the cushion - his confused “oof” makes her laugh before he’s straddled by this 100-pound lightweight. She relishes in the way his eyes take in her naked body, not minding this turn of events in the slightest. Soon enough, Guzma will find himself pinned down by the weight of two hands Max lays against his chest. “I might let you cherish them a little longer. They’re everywhere,” with a wink, she crawls up his chest until her thighs frame his head like a painting. Mmm yes, this is a piece of art she could look at a little while longer. 

                         “Even between my thighs.”