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zackcollins · 3 years

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speechless || bo bichette

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hello! Everyone gets a treat of a second fic today because I was in a mood to write. Hope that’s okay. Idk man. When you’re in the mood to write, you write. And sometimes, you just wanna post right away because you’re too impatient to wait. Ya know? Anyways. GIF credit to glasnow!

Warnings: An anxiety attack. That’s probably it??? I don’t think there’s anything else. Feel free to let me know otherwise and I’ll fix this warnings section for you.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Title: Speechless by Dan + Shay

Additional: The reader should be gender neutral again! I don’t think I used any identifying language or pronouns or anything. If I did, it was accidental because I was hella distracted watching my dog while my grandparents went grocery shopping. As always, let me know how I did because constructive criticism is always welcomed!

Tagging: @whimsical-daydreams @donttelltheelf-x

You had suffered from severe anxiety; it had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. At this point, it had totally consumed you. You could hardly do anything anymore without your anxiety trying to take over in some form or another. It was the worst feeling in the world.

That's why it was like all your prayers had been answered when Bo waltzed into your life. For the first time in your life, you were able to open up about your anxiety with someone. There was just something about Bo that made you feel safe, secure, and like nothing would ever hurt you again.

You had been dating for about two and a half years before your relationship changed. It changed on what had otherwise been a quiet day in the middle of February. Snow was falling outside of your house, blowing around peacefully in the evening breeze. You were sitting on the window seat of the living room window, staring out onto the street while idly sipping on a mug of hot chocolate.

Somewhere outside, you heard a dog distantly barking. You found it odd because to the best of your knowledge, nobody in the housing community you and Bo lived in had a dog. Most of them had cats because they were easier for their housekeepers to look after when they were away on business trips or vacation. You quickly shook it out of your mind, though, thinking it only to be a dog that had wandered in from somewhere nearby. It wasn't entirely unlikely for that to happen because some of the people in the housing communities on either side had been known to let their dogs roam freely from time to time.

A couple of minutes later, you heard the front door to the house open. That snapped you out of thinking about the barking dog because you needed to know who walked in. Turning around, you heaved a relieved sign when you saw Bo standing in the entryway. You felt a little anxious, however, when you saw that he had placed a rather large box at his feet. Placing your hot chocolate on the windowsill, you walked over to Bo.

"What's this, sweetie?" You asked, walking all the way around the box. You wanted to see if it had some sort of label or marking on it that would hint at what was inside; it did not. All it had was a pink ribbon embossed with white hearts tied around it.

Bo smiled as he was undressing from his winter apparel. He tossed his hat into the closet. He unzipped his coat and carefully placed it on one of the coat hooks beside the door. Lastly came his boots. He slipped out of those and tossed them haphazardly onto the plastic boot mat you had bought specifically for the winter so snow wouldn’t be tracked all over your house. He ended up bowling over your boots and a spare pair of boots you kept in case of emergencies. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Bo raised his arms in surrender as he stepped forward and gave you a quick kiss. You relaxed, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his back. When you pulled apart, Bo stepped aside and motioned to the box.

"If you wanna know what’s inside,” Bo produced a pocket knife seemingly out of nowhere because you didn’t know him to carry one. He handed it to you and motioned to the box a second time. “All you have to do is open it.”

You walked forward and leaned over, carefully cutting the ribbon a couple of times so that it was easier to untangle from the box. Once you had all of the ribbon untangled and balled up, you placed it along with the knife on the console table next to you. When you looked back at Bo, he gave you an encouraging nod and a soft smile. You bit your lip nervously as you carefully lifted the lid off of the box. What was inside made you blink in surprise. Staring back at you was a beagle puppy. You had to blink a couple of more times, just to make sure that truly weren't imagining this. When you surmised that this was, in fact, a real dog sitting in the box, you lifted them out, cradling them in your arms. They even kissed you on the chin a couple of times. That was also all it took for you to be absolutely smitten with this puppy.

Just as you went to put the puppy down, the light from the chandelier made something on their collar glisten. At first, you thought it was name tags or the city registration tags. But, when you examined it, you discovered that it was an engagement ring. You turned to ask Bo about it. Much to your surprise, he was down on one knee, holding his hands out. You handed him the dog (who you could now see was a boy), thinking that was what he wanted. Bo chuckled as he scritched the dog behind the ears. The dog sighed, jackrabbitting his back foot in satisfaction. You huffed an amused breath, rolling your eyes and chuckling.

Bo carefully put the dog down and took the ring off of his collar. He gave him a few more ear scritches which made the dog flop on the floor and curl in a ball. Bo rolled his eyes before he looked up at you, holding the ring in your direction.

"Since I know I'm the best thing to happen to you and you're the best thing to happen to me," Bo paused, wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes, "I was wondering if you'd marry me?"

You clammed up. You felt your anxiety wash over you like a giant wave crashing into the surf. You fell to the floor, chanting a bunch of incoherent nonsense as you curled into a ball and clutched your knees tightly to your chest. You rocked back and forth, tears streaming down your face as you continued to death-grip your knees. It was then that you felt Bo wrap you in his arms. He cradled you, rocking you in time with how you were rocking yourself. Only, he was doing it softer, gentler. He was also mumbling some of his stats from last season, the stats from the hockey game you watched yesterday. Hell, he even started mumbling what you needed to buy when you went grocery shopping the next time. Anything mundane and boring because he knew that was what generally helped you out of anxiety episodes. The more boring the better. It gave a sense of normalcy and order that helped your brain to focus on the everyday parts of life as opposed to the falsehoods of meaningless compliments that people only said to you when you were in the middle of an anxiety episode.

Hearing about baseball and hockey stats as well as what groceries you needed to buy helped remarkably well. You calmed down relatively quickly given how badly this attack had started. You tilted your head, looking Bo in the eyes. Your eyes were full of a question that didn’t need to be asked but probably should be anyways. Bo, knowing how to read you by now, simply nodded. He met you halfway as you connected your lips. You shared a brief, albeit meaningful kiss.

When you broke your lips apart, you held your hand out. "Of course I'll marry you."

You smiled, though it was a little awkward because you were still recovering from your anxiety attack, as Bo placed the ring on your finger. You moved your hand around, looking at the ring from every angle. It was a gorgeous ring. It was also simple and not very flashy. Which is something you had told Bo you wanted when the time came for him to finally propose. You weren’t a flashy or extravagant person so there was no need to have a flashy or extravagant ring. The thought of having an expensive or flashy ring made you really anxious. You were afraid that somebody would break in and steal it from you. And you didn’t want to live the entire rest of your life in fear that someone was going to break into your house to steal something from you. You had told Bo that that was no way to live. That’s why you were content with a small, simple ring. You didn’t have to live in a constant state of anxiety that some schmuck off the street was going to get the wise idea to break in one night and rob you of it. And the ring Bo had picked was exactly the ring you had been eyeing the last time you were in a jewellery store. So, it worked out even better.

Bo snapped you out of your thought by grabbing you by the chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilted your face up so that you were looking at each other directly. Bo’s eyes flitted down to your lips and then quickly back up to look at you. You nodded as best you could with Bo holding onto your chin, a soft smile breaking out across your lips. Bo smiled back, dropping his hand away from your chin. He, instead, grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers. You huffed softly before you leaned forward and connected your lips with Bo’s. Bo smirked into the kiss, bringing his other hand up and resting it against your shoulder. The kiss was far more passionate than the first and you swore it could’ve gone on forever and ever. The only reason you stopped was because the puppy weaseled his way in between you and licked both of your noses. Bo laughed and booped the puppy on his nose. You made an amused noise and scritched the puppy's chest.

Bo turned back to you after you both spent a few moments playing with the puppy. "Sorry for surprising you. I know how you hate surprises."

"It's alright, Bo. It would've defeated the whole purpose if you told me," you responded, moving in closer to Bo.

At that moment, the puppy plopped himself down in between the two of you. You both scratched him behind either ear. He made a soft groan of appreciation, before falling fast asleep. He was snoring softly after a few moments which made both you and Bo chuckle bemusedly.

"What do we name him?" Bo asked, picking him up and placing him in your lap.

"Biscuit!" You replied with excitement. The dog responded to that, briefly opening his eyes and snuffling before he went back to sleep. "See! He likes that name."

Your smile grew wider as your leaned down and gave Biscuit a kiss on the head. He snuffled again, his tail wagging against your knee. You lit up significantly, almost forgetting that you had had an anxiety attack a few minutes ago.

“Scratch that,” you said, a smile beaming on your face. “He loves that name.”

Bo just shook his head, chuckled, and waved a dismissive hand at you. "You're such a huge dork. You know that, right?"

"But I’m your huge dork," you replied, pointing to the ring on your finger as proof of that claim.

"Yes, yes you are."

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maemi324 · 4 years

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Mafia

Hey there friends! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve actually posted something.

Let me just say, Happy Holidays! I hope you are having a wonderful and safe holiday.

This fic was inspired and written for @butterscotchbaku and @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku based on some requests I had written in, as well as just ideas passed back and forth.

I hope you two are having a wonderful day and may that continue into the new year! Thank you for all you’ve written and done!

Pairing: Izuku/Fem.Reader

Warnings: mentioned beatings, mentioned assault but nothing described in detail. all very vague. uhh violence, or hinted at violence. Edited only by me, so i may have missed something.

I think that’s it.

I hope you two enjoy this!

Cigarette smoke hung heavily in the room, walls filled with generic knickknacks and warm colored walls gave the meeting a false sense of pleasantness. To any unsuspecting person, this was any other meeting room, one long table with rounded edges and somewhat padded chairs, the head of the table having the one most plush.

Hell, even the people occupying them would have anyone turning up their nose in disinterest. Nothing but business men and women in dark, smart looking suits.

But you knew better. Sitting at the head was the infamous Izuku Midoriya, known under the name of Deku, direct descendent of the greatest Mafia leader Japan had ever seen; All Might.

And here you sat, comfortably in Izuku’s lap, your temple pressed against his neck as you listened to his voice rumble on towards the other members. You were hardly paying attention to what was being said as you glanced around the room to the others.

Katsuki Bakugou- Dynamite, or TNT if you were feeling particularly cheeky. He was head of interrogation, finding out who knew what and definitely had too many ways of making people talk, and only one sure fire way of keeping them quiet.

Todoroki Shouto- Bakugou’s counter in interrogation. He was mainly there to keep Bakugou from killing every target. He could control his temper, sure, but Todoroki added a sense of cold unease to their targets. He was effective against the folks who didn’t rise to Bakugou’s jabs and threats. He tapped the ashes of his cigarette into the small dish provided.

Kirishima Eijirou- Red Riot-another strong man and a third in the interrogation squad. He kept Bakugou from grousing the entire time, as well as leveling the two tempers in the group. Though he was a strong man, he was also incredibly sweet. You recalled that, while dealing with some unsavory characters that had children- typically rescuing the children at the other parents pleading- Red Riot was a favorite with them, his bright smile and charm keeping them distracted as Bakugou and Todoroki dealt with the problem.

Iida- Ingenium-was the getaway driver, best out of the best. He somehow always managed to get them out as quickly as possible while still following the law. It made losing the police all the easier. Ochaco Uraraka, or Uravity, was the treasurer, in charge of keeping account of all of the mafia’s funds, who owed them money and why. For more problematic clients, she was a stickler down to the very last penny.

There were others, but those were just the ones in the room at the moment. You sighed softly, adjusting in Izuku’s lap. Someone at the end of the table was pleading for something. You could tell by the unimpressed glare on Izuku’s face that it was going south for whoever this was- a blond man with an inferiority complex for certain.

You glanced down at your left hand, engagement ring shimmering brightly despite the warm fluorescent lights. It wasn’t very large, an emerald surrounded by diamonds. He’d only given it to you a few days ago. On a rare day, you were able to go out with him in public-the benefit of a mask and some contacts while on the job- you had decided to flit about a few museums. The ring caught your eye immediately, the prized possession of some rich so and so, dating back who knows how long in their family.

Maybe it was because of how brightly it matched your lovers eyes, but the ring called to you. You didn’t mention a peep to your lover however. You knew he would have taken it right then and there. You rather liked coming to this museum, with added security after a robbery, you would have to frequent it less.

Your lovestruck fool of a man decided to do it anyway. He’d said that the plan went off without a hitch, though the smudges of dirt and a bit of blood- not his own- said otherwise. At the time, you had to question why, sure he’d robbed plenty of other places, gifts for trips that took longer than expected, but a place that you favored going?

“I’m just crazy about you doll, You deserve the best of the best. The way you eyed that ring, I knew there’d be nothing else that would be more perfect for you. But, it’s not just because you fancied it that I got it for you. We’re together, we always will be...but I want to make it more official. I wanna be yours forever, and I want you to be mine. What do you say doll? Marry me?”

You couldn’t say yes fast enough.

A gentle nudge to your shoulder brought you out of your daze. You looked up to the love of your life.

“What do you think dollface? What should we do with Monama?”

You sat up in his lap, watching as the blond shivered in his spot, a smirk on your fiance’s face hidden by his fist as he leaned against it.

“Monama, what is it he did again?”

“Well Doll, he owes us money. He swears he’s good for it, but this is the third time he hasn’t been good for it.What should we do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Monama...ah yes now you remembered him! A little wanna be Mafia leader who went under when he ran out of money. He placed bets with other rival gangs against Deku, proclaiming that not only could he and his group get it done, but get it done better.

There were times when they had, though just barely. It was hardly enough to keep a betting pool aimed against Deku however. Everyone but him seemed to know it. The overconfidence in his group and underestimating Deku lead to his downfall when Deku pulled off an impossible mission without even having to undo his tie.

When these gangs came to collect, he begged Deku to allow him and his group safety, help paying off the debt. Deku agreed, but in return, he had a year to earn the money back, only adding interest when the blond began getting too cocky.

“I just need a little more time! A day, give me a day!” he pleaded, voice shrill and desperate.

You winced, brows scrunched in annoyance.

Honestly, you didn’t care for Monama, and weren’t all too excited for his continued presence in the gang. You looked down at your nails idly.

“Have Dynamite follow him for a day then. If whatever magic he seems to think he can pull off, doesn’t in fact pull off, then he can have fun beating the change out of him. Or, whoever he’s seeing to get the money can pay it” You figured, even though he’d be annoyed at the idea of tailing that worm, Bakugou would have a good time beating it out of him.

Izuku gave Bakugou a look, who only snarled in response. A tilt of his head and Bakugou got up from his chair, footsteps heavy as he grabbed Monama by the arm, “Let’s get this over with you pathetic extra,” rolling his eyes as Moana sagged in slight relief, gratitude spilling from his lips.

Izuku held up a hand, “Let Red Riot escort him out for now. We have some business that you’d like to be here for I’m sure”

Bakugou’s eyes widened a fraction, a grin making its way onto his face as he shoved Monama towards Kirishima.

As Bakugou took his seat and Kirishima exited with Monama in tow, another man entered the room, a small man with purple hair. You recognized him as Mineta’s father. His son’s invention, a sticky substance that rendered anything in its grip as good as stuck, was what kept him in the group. What had him on thin ice however, was his treatment of the women in the group, all things he learned from his father. Izuku left Iida to beat it out of him however he saw fit. All it would take is one more strike.

His father, however, was all out of strikes. The way he leered at you and the other girls had you all walking on eggshells around him. You only came forward to Izuku about it after you and the others had confided in one another. He had groped at you after a party the gang had thrown. It was the first and last time he’d ever made a physical move towards you.

You could feel the man's lecherous eyes on you, making you lean into Izuku, his body blocking the man's gaze.

While you told him your story, Izuku’s face had remained calm, though the cup he had been holding shattered into thousands of pieces. He knew there were rumors about the senior, but to have it be found out as fact, and not just rumors from other gangs... He was furious, you knew that, and you knew somehow, someway, that Minoru senior would pay.

“Doll, why don’t you go talk to YaoMomo about wedding dresses, hm?” You nodded your head, though hesitant to leave the safety and comfort of his lap. You knew you were safe with Izuku by your side, but that didn’t mean you were comfortable passing by this...Disgusting being. His gaze softened and he hooked his arm around yours, escorting you personally towards the door.

Izuku tilted your head into a sweet kiss, his thumb rubbing comforting circles onto your side.

Izuku opened the door for you, but before you left, he kissed you again, deeper, sweeping away the sickly feeling of being watched with his tongue as it danced with yours, one hand cupping your jaw to pull you close.

He pulled away all too soon for your tastes, hand leaving your jaw, “Actually, maybe talk with her about the cake too, this may take a bit...” he turned away from you, eyes turning cold and jaded as the door closed.

“It’s about to get ugly in here”

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya x reader #uraraka ochaco #bnha iida #todoroki shouto #bnha kirishima #katsuki bakugou #bnha #bnha all might #monoma neito #mha minoru #momo yaoyorozu #Mafia au #bnha mafia au #villain deku #maemiwritesbnha

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delldarling · 4 years

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the city is hoarding hearts | arroven

male dragon x gender/body neutral reader 9015 words lemon | mention of drinking alcohol, face riding, size difference, fairly submissive monster, penetrative sex, poetry, touch starved note: behold! my modern epic fantasy universe! this world first appeared back in August for my Patreon Story of the Month, and though I haven’t revisited Arroven again just yet, I did return to this universe for December’s Story of the Month as well. 👀

Magic, despite people's claim to the contrary, is beyond rare these days. No one really claims that it isn’t real, that it didn’t once run rampant with it’s existence. After all, it’s impossible to deny when people have things like the architecture of the North to reference. The towers built into their seaside cliffs, spiraling up like the serpents of old reaching for the sun? Without magic, without gravity spells, and an everlasting charm on those spells, thick enough to double as a coat of paint, the towers would have fallen into the sea by now, dashed against the dark stones jutting out from the deep green waters. Many people, though especially the elves, think that the towers will endure long after the cliffs have crumbled into the water. Floating relics, you’ve heard more than a few people murmur, wonder in their voices, wouldn’t that be something?

Even more common now, there are people the world over that claim they have a spark of magic left still, that they can feel the rhythms of the magical tide flooding back over the world.

She Wakes is written on street corners and thick posters, spray painted on the underside of the colossal Echo Bridge. No matter how often they have workers doing their best to clean the graffiti up, the giant letters are back in place a few days later.

Despite how much you’d like to believe them, as everyone dreams of the rumors, of magic returning, you’ve never put too much stock into the whispered words. Why would you? No matter how often you’ve spent watching wispy clouds streak by your window, no matter how often you’ve taken a moment to reflect on the thought, to nurse a seed of hope… Nothing has ever come of it.

It’s why you keep trying to ignore that heavy ache in the arch of your feet, or the way you keep noticing advertisements for Arroven.

History books and the elderly all say that this is how it starts when magic finally blooms in someone’s blood. There’s an itch. An ache. A constant irritant that starts in your extremities and wriggles into your veins, and then coincidences will start to pile up. Small things, like noticing whenever the clock strikes 11:11 on whatever clock you pass. Or maybe it’s having the luck to switch the radio station to your favorite song without fail, or—

“Stop it,” you mutter to yourself when you spot it. You breath puffs out into the chilly air, adding to the fog lingering in the streets. You kneel, brushing aside some of the fallen damask leaves, their velvety backs clinging to your touch even as you do your best to shake them off. Just barely hidden under their litter is a postcard. Without even glancing at it, you know what you’ll find on the back, but you’re drawn to pick it up anyway, turning it over. It depicts a sprawling city with green undertones, the word Arroven written in a sloping, beautiful script along the bottom of the image. The edges are creased, almost lovingly, and there’s a small puncture hole at the top left corner, as if someone had it pinned to a corkboard for no short amount of time.

Until this moment, you haven’t picked up any of the advertisements for Arroven. The stories all say that you can ignore it, that the magic will go away and fade from you like an ebbing tide if you only will it hard enough, but… You don’t know that you really want it to leave. Those seeds have hope might not have fully sprouted, but their roots have run deep, snaking through your veins. You swallow past the dryness in your throat and turn the postcard over, wonder if you’re going to get an address, or if there are words of encouragement intended for the last owner.

The postcard is faintly yellowed at the edges, but it’s otherwise blank.

You wilt, disappointed, but you don’t throw it back down onto the stones. If you check the railway listings, you’re more than certain that you’ll find a one way trip to Arroven suddenly dirt cheap. The pathway that will lead you there is probably paved with strangely good fortune, more invisible hooks ready to find a secure hold in your heart. You might as well find out if there’s anything to these claims of magic. You have far too much hope shored up in your bones and pumping through your chest not to at least try.

A month later, and you’re starting to believe that whatever magic that led you this far has all but fled. Of course, you’re more than content with where it’s left you, a word rattling around in the back of your brain and clamoring to spill from your lips: home. Arroven feels like home.

It’s not just the city though. It’s your place. It’s the stones that pave the streets and the people that fill them. It’s the smell of bakeries and the faint hint of exhaust. It’s the clean smell of paper and ink from the stationary shop you’d stumbled into on your first night in Arroven, and the proprietor’s barely-there smile. You’d made fast friends with her almost instantly, like it was fate.

Mora, despite her solemn stature, and the vast amount of spiraling tattoos disappearing under the neck of her cleanly pressed shirts, is beyond kind. She possesses a startling, sparkling wit that leaves a smile lingering on your lips whenever you think of her snappy little comments. She’d given you a job in her shop a few days after you’d first arrived, perking up as soon as you’d come back into her shop. She needed a cashier, so she could have more time to develop her own inks, and then a few days after that you literally stumbled onto a showing of a furnished apartment. It had fit all of your needs, and your shoes had sunk into the plush carpet of the bedroom, like a quiet voice in the place asking you to stay.

The ache in your feet had eased, that strange little irritant in the back of your mind fading with every passing day. You haven’t put too much thought into magic since then, as there hasn’t been a reason when you have a new job to keep you busy, and a city to explore on your days off. You love it here, the sea green patina on the copper statues, the swirling architecture that extends to every building in the city, no matter how large or small. Besides, you know if you go looking into magic again, at the message boards or if you go hunting down books, it’s likely that they’ll all say much the same thing: She Wakes, and her gift will blossom in you, but not Forever. She moves us like pawns, adjusting us Just So, no matter how small the slot She needs filled.

You’ve read it all before, have heard debates shouted in the streets or argued about in the back corner of classrooms. Magic moves through people as it wills, and no amount of pleading will keep it in you unless you’re a mage, and even then, that takes years of study. If the magic that led you here only existed long enough for you to make your home? Then you’ll have to be satisfied with that.

And you are, until that ache in your feet starts up again.

Late one evening, as you’re locking the back door of Rumoura’s, it floods through you fast enough to steal your breath. There’s no voice, no heavy hand on your shoulder, just a fierce pain that wells, threatening to bring tears to your eyes, until you turn to the right. You blink, surprise at the sudden and complete lack of pain, and take a ragged breath as you pocket the key to the door. When you feel steady enough, when your lungs no longer ache, you turn to the right and start walking.It takes you about ten minutes to realize you’re headed towards the main park, the one with ancient ruins of a half finished serpent tower peppered throughout its boundaries. You’ve walked through once, one golden afternoon with Mora, and you’ve been meaning to come back sometime on your lunch break. The past few days have been busy though, with a flood of students coming back to Arroven, stocking up on both casual and serious supplies from Mora’s shop.

Besides, there’s always been time to explore at your leisure now that you’re living here.

Two towering trees make a grand arch over the park entrance, and the slow swirl of damask leaves spiraling down from the branches make you laugh.

“Coincidence,” you murmur, a small smile curling your lips, and you walk into the park. The paths are well lit, even this late in the evening. This part of the city doesn’t boast about it’s lack of crime, but most people feel it. There always seems to be groups of people roaming: Elven tourists, hooking arms and laughing over cups of tea and coffee, Orcish artists and musicians, setting up on benches or street corners, busking for the simple sake of sharing their art with others. You wander through the park, expecting to simply take in the sights among the meandering attendees, but.. You haven’t seen anyone for the past few minutes. Your footsteps start to slow, wondering if you missed a sign somewhere and you have the nagging feeling that you just need to find someone.

Cautiously, you keep moving, the sudden bout of nervousness easing when you see someone up ahead. They’re sitting at the foot of one of the rather large blocks of toppled variscite, a dark hoodie hiding their face. Their shoulders are broad, and their clothes are a little more ragged than you see on people around here, but it gives off more of a well lived look than a dangerous one. They’re tapping the toes of their boots together, the tread of them worn smooth, and a low, masculine hum reaches your ears the closer you get. He stops as soon as you’re within speaking range though, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. There’s a street lamp not too far behind him, and with the hood and the angle of the light, it casts most of his face in shadow. All you can spy is a pair of long, thorn-like ear gauges, curling out from the depths of his hood. They’re bigger around than a thimble and sharp looking from this far away.

“Nice evening, hm?” You say in greeting, hoping that if he doesn’t want to speak, he’ll just bob his head and let you move along. You haven’t run into any trouble in Arroven yet, but even with that strange ache, you don’t know that you can see your good luck lasting forever.

“A lovely one,” he mumbles and he leans back, hands grabbing at his knees and squeezing like he’s the nervous one.

That thought makes you stop, your eyes focusing a bit more intensely on what you can see of his skin. At first glance, his knuckles are bruised and paint splattered, nails split and a little too long, skin rough in texture. You blink, realizing that his knuckles aren’t bruised, his skin just mirrors the strange patterns of the variscite he’s sitting on, ink black and sea green, and the rough texture to his skin has pointy, scalloped edges.

The noise he makes isn’t a sigh, not quite, but he turns his face away, as if he expects you to ignore him, or run, and his hood edges back, just a sliver. The arch of his nose is straight as an arrow, and his nostrils are thin things, slashing upwards. His face has so many angles that it’s hard to tear your gaze away. You wish you could see his eyes, but he has them closed, like he’s still bracing himself for a blow.

“Are you.. Are you alright?” You ask, because it seems like the thing to say, with how tense he is, with how he’s waiting.

His eyes flash open, reflective in the depths of his hood. His mouth curls into a frown when he turns to look at you again. His eyes are still the eerie glam of a reflected light. “You’re not frightened?”

“Are you?” You ask, ignoring the thundering of your own heart. You’ve seen Trolls before, and even a few half-elves or half-orcs of varying descent, with skin that just barely reminds you of his, but.. You’re willing to bet he isn’t any of those.

“A bit?” He says, unsure, and the edge of a violet tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. “It’s been a few centuries since any of you have made yourself so at home here that you stumbled across me.” He hunches his shoulders, looking away from you for the breadth of a second, before he can’t help himself. His eyes flick back to you, rove over you from head to toe, almost greedily. “You felt a call then, an itch?”

“An ache,” you correct, staring at him with wide eyes. Centuries? The long lived races don’t often mention the time they have over others. It’s rude at the best of times, and most of them are terrible sticklers for manners.

“At home here, you said?” You ask, knowing that something about him seems terribly familiar.

Your question makes him pause, brow lifting before he finally pushes himself to his feet. He unfolds, all long, heavy limbs, but doesn’t move from his spot on the variscite. “M-.. Arroven. You do think of the city as home?” He breathes in, hesitantly lifting his chin. “Not to be rude,” he says, a little awkwardly, “but you smell like Arroven.”

All at once, the old poem flickers back into your mind, the one about hearts and desires and winter. The oldest folktales of the first cities, those built around the serpent towers, all seemed to carry the poem with them. It was both a warning and a blessing to those that wished to stay. You’d have to hunt down the entirety of it, but the ending couplet?

The city promises, you’ll be most adored So can you, will you, join the hoard?

You bite down fiercely on the desire to blurt out dragon, but he must sense it, might even see the aborted twist of your lips.

“..you’ve figured it out, then?” He asks, and when his shoulders droop, you spy the barest edge of a wing, tucked in close to his back. “If being in my immediate vicinity is a problem, I quite understand, but please stay in the city. You-” He blows out a breath, large hands fussing about with his hoodie pocket. Everything about him reads awkward, almost shy. “You’re safe here, I promise.” He breathes in again, like he can’t resist, eyes falling closed when his violet tongue appears, there and gone before you can blink. “You belong,” he murmurs and tangles his fingers in the material of his hoodie, like he would reach out if he didn’t stop himself.

Inexplicably, you wonder if Mora knows about the city patron. If you should waltz into the shop tomorrow and announce: I’ve officially been welcomed to the hoard. ...Sort of. Before you lose your nerve, before you can bite your tongue, you ask. “An official welcome involves more drinks though, doesn’t it?”

-Arroven, the dragon, the founder of the city, is sitting across the table from you, slouching in a barstool that has a difficult time encompassing his enormous body. Despite his height, and the way his hood shadows his face in a frankly ominous way, no one is paying him any attention. One of the bartender’s had slid a drink list your way as soon as you’d claimed the seats, but she hadn’t even glanced at Arroven. In fact, you think her eyes might have skipped right over his seat. It’s a little disconcerting, seeing as he’d claimed that Wink was one of the best bars around, but if they ignore him, if they can’t see him?

“What’ll it be?” A different bartender asks, a tall elf, with his hair plaited back in a complicated braid. He has pleasant features, though he looks a little flustered, a lock or two of dark hair escaping his braid. You think he might be on the newer end when he fumbles a bit with the card you slide his way, olive skin flushing when his fingers nearly touch yours.

“Uh, the special,” you finally decide, expecting him to turn to Arroven so he can order as well. Your jaw drops when he whirls, not even bothering. “Ar- hey, wait!”

The elf turns back, smiling vaguely, looking even more tense now that he can’t leave straight off, but he doesn’t seem to see Arroven when you gesture towards him. His gaze zips right through the neckline of Arroven's hoodie, straight on through to the next customer.

Perturbed, you lean in close to Arroven, heart skipping a beat due to his proximity. He smells faintly of musty books, and stone, cooling in the early evening after baking in the sunshine of a warm day. "Didn’t you want something?” You force yourself to ask, unwilling to let the elf leave without at least checking with him first. He doesn’t have to get anything, but you’d hoped he would, if only so you can spend a while longer in his company. Maybe the flirtatious tone you’d struck had made him uncomfortable?

For a moment Arroven hunches further into his sweatshirt, and you think your fears might hold weight. You are a little close, and you still don’t know each other terribly well yet. You straighten, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel and Arroven heaves out a sigh. He finally tugs back his hood, though the elf behind the bar doesn’t even blink. “Just a.. a Beetle Wing," he mutters, large, sharp teeth catching the light. The elf nods, though his gaze is still on you when Arroven speaks, and turns away to go make the drinks.

Without the darkness of night, without his hood shadowing his face, you see that his eyes aren’t permanently reflective. In the dim lights of the bar, they’re a lovely shade of blue-green that matches well with his skin. What you thought were ear gauges were actually his horns, thick and curving, and trailing after the clean arch of his jaw. His ears are heavy with plugs though, and they clink against his horns when he turns, noticing that you’re staring. The scent of hot stone grows stronger when you smile at him, and then he huffs, looking away and running a hand through his already tousled, short dark hair. You catch sight of scales on his scalp and then blink. It’s not hair on his head, it’s feathers. His eyebrows are much the same, in miniature. Fine, thin feathers, as ink dark as the scalloped edges of his scales.

“So,” you tease, hoping your questions won’t come off as prying. “Can the rest of the people in here see you at all? You said that it’d been a while since anyone had felt at home enough here to stumble across you, but.. I don’t know exactly if that means Magicis is at work, or something else.”

Arroven breathes in, glancing up at the filigreed round sign hanging over the bar. There’s a single neon eye in the middle, opening and closing on loop under the word WINK. Even with the noise of people talking, and the music coming steadily from the small corner of a dance floor, you can still hear the faint buzz and click of the neon switching over. “Not many,” he finally confesses. “If the proprietor were here, she would see me, but she’s been here for a.. For a while.” She’s one of the long lived races then. Arroven turns, taking a quick look over the other patrons, tense, as if he expects one of them to approach. “The couple near the dance floor there,” he finally says, pointing out two women leaning into each other, stealing sips of each other’s drinks. “The orcish fellow on his phone. They can see me, though I doubt they’ll realize who I am. Just living here doesn’t make someone part of the hoard, though it’s always a step in the right direction.” For a second, he looks like he might let the subject drop, but then he cringes, glancing at your eyes before he looks away. “I don’t- I don’t steal from the people living here, whether they’re part of my hoard or not, even if they don’t realize I’m around. Even if they can’t see me.”

That’s reassuring, though you hadn’t planned on diving into that topic.

“What then,” you ask, leaning your chin in the palm of your hand, and your elbow on the bar, “makes someone part of your hoard?”

Arroven’s rough looking scales don’t shine, but the neon light over the both of you shifts again from blue, to pink, and back. It was already hard for you to take your eyes off of him, knowing who he is, attracted to the nervous quirk of his lips, but now? The magic that you’ve only ever felt the after effects of, the strange aches and coincidences, it feels like more in this moment. More than a soft nudge in the correct direction. Arroven is sitting at your side, winking neon sign a spotlight over both your heads.

Hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, Arroven lifts his hand, reaching out, and taps once, softly, against your sternum. “It sounds esoteric, but the only explanation I have is that all of you feels like you should be here. From the way you smell, to the echoes of your voice or your footsteps along the pavement...” Arroven swallows, and then inhales, letting his hand fall away from your chest as his eyes close. He doesn’t pull his hand back completely though, just lets his hand hover over your thigh. “It’s always the desires of the heart that bring my hoard home,” he murmurs and starts to sway towards you.

There’s a soft clink on the bar, your drinks being set carefully in front of you and Arroven. When you look, the bartender still hasn’t noticed the city patron, the dragon, but the drink is still clearly set aside for him. Your card is placed very quickly next to your glass, the elf flashing you a much more jovial smile than earlier.

“Your drink has been taken care of,” he explains, but doesn’t stay behind to point out who might have bought them. When you look, Arroven is sitting straight up in his seat, and his guilty expression is answer enough.

“I was supposed to be welcoming you to the city,” he murmurs, turning in his stool so he can take hold of his glass. The liquid inside is iridescent, shifting from what looks like violet, to a strange umber. You’re willing to bet that it’s more blue and green, but the neon light isn’t doing it too many favors. Arroven lifts his cup, patiently waiting for you to do the same and then quietly toasts your arrival. The clink of the glasses rings in your ears with the clarity of a bell, echoes lasting far longer than the noise itself.

“Goodness,” you say, coughing when you finish your swallow. Your drink is a little stronger than you thought it would be, heat already spiralling down into your chest and filling your belly. “So, uh, the city blessings seem to be true, I take it?” You don’t look at him as you speak, afraid he’ll cringe away from the mention of them.

“Blessings?” Arroven asks, and then you have to search up the poem. He sounds like he doesn't know, but they're supposed to be as old as the cities. Or near as.

“Sometimes they vary, from city to city. But most of the time they have almost the same structure. The same meaning,” you explain, pulling up the poem on your phone. “Hoarding hearts, keeping people safe in winter. The, uh-” You turn it his way, but he doesn’t take the phone from you, just reads the words out of the palm of your hand, brows raised by the time he gets to the end.

“‘Sinking talons into your thighs?’” Arroven’s slit pupils grow wide, nearly drowning his iris in darkness. He straightens, taking another hasty gulp of his drink. He laughs when he’s finished, nerves finally beginning to ease. “That’s how they’re translating it these days?” He asks, but you notice his eyes lingering on your hands, drifting down to your knees and the way you’re sitting.

You pass a good portion of the evening, teetering back and forth with conversation about the city now, and how it was when Arroven had first settled. For all that he’s wearing modern clothes and walking on two feet, you can see him in a larger, more draconic figure, delving into the variscite mines and overseeing the people that had decided to settle under his watch.

He’s just as enthralled with your stories though, hanging onto your every word, even though he’s still clearly a little anxious. He abandons his hunched and wary demeanor as soon as you start talking about the magic though. All the little aches and nudges and postcards that had led a clear path to his city. To him.

You insist on buying the next round when he makes to wave down the bartender, who is still completely oblivious to his presence, but Arroven stops you with a hand on your wrist.

"Another time," he says, just loud enough for you to hear. "A welcome isn't a single round, is it?" He asks, a tentative smile revealing a small glimpse of those sharp teeth.

You could argue. You have the feeling that he would let it go if you pushed, but the smile sways you. It's the first time he's spoken without lowering his eyes mid sentence. You accept the drink, and try not to stare when his smile grows, shy and small and all the more endearing for it.

You both pretend not to notice each other grinning after that.

It’s just past 1 AM by the time the both of you leave the bar, only slightly unsteady after a few drinks and a few plates of bar food. Warmth floods you when Arroven’s hand finds your elbow, just barely keeping you from stumbling off the edge of the sidewalk and into the street. All it takes is a single stroke of his thumb over your arm for you to throw aside any worries you might have about flirting.

He's reciprocated, in quiet ways, for the last hour or so. He’s leaned into you whenever you lowered your voice, had let his eyes linger on your hands and thighs after you brought up the poem.. The worst thing he can do is say no.

“Come to my place?” You blurt and Arroven stutters, hand spasming in his grip on your arm. For a heart wrenching moment, you think he might turn you down, but he finally bobs his head, gauges clicking against his horns with the motion. “...You said you’d been out of the loop with the people living here,” you start, mouth dry, wondering if he knows what you’re trying to ask, but still a little too sober to spell it out. “I’m asking, I’m not just asking you to come visit. I-”

Arroven stops your worried speech with a slightly awkward smile. “I know what you’re getting at,” he finally says with a gentle huff of a laugh, hand sliding down your arm until he can twine his fingers about yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment you think he might stop, might pull away. “I- I would love to,” he says quietly, and squeezes until his fingernails gently prick the back of your hand.

Wordless with triumph, you flash another smile his way, heart pounding as you keep hold of his hand, ventral scales dry, but slick against your palm.

“The walk back to my place is a bit of a long one from here,” you confess, glancing at the handful of cabs loitering along the street. “Seeing as you got the drinks, I can—” You nearly trip over your own feet when Arroven tugs you back, keeping you from approaching any of the cabs.

“I don’t.. Fit very well,” he says, apologetically. “If you would rather take one, I can, but if you aren’t opposed..” Arroven’s wings, still tucked in flat along his back, quirk and stretch, spreading wide enough that he nearly clips another leaving bar patron in the face. They don’t move, don’t see him, but they blink, as if a gust of wind just hit them, and shield their eyes until they’re well past you and Arroven.

His statement leaves you staring, jaw beginning to grow slack. “Are you saying you can fly us back to my place?” Your eyes trace his wings again, the fragile veins spider webbing across the membranes. It’s not that you thought they were ornamental, but it’s one thing to see them, and another to know you’ll get to witness their use first hand.

Arroven’s shoulders start to hunch, but his eyes flick down to your hand, fingers still curled around his. He smiles instead. “Yes?”

You glance at the cabs, and then back to Arroven’s tall figure and broad shoulders. As much as you’d like being pressed up against him, trapped in the backseat of an uncomfortable cab isn’t quite what you’d pictured, and he’s already nervous enough. That settles things. You nod, just the once and lift your chin to meet his eyes. “Flying it is then! We can’t have you getting stuck in one of those, can we?”

While Arroven walks you through how he’s going to pick you up, how he’s going to hold onto you, some of the people on the sidewalk start to watch you. You’re nodding readily at what they assume to be empty air. You spare a second to wonder if they’ll see you vanish, or if they’ll be able to see the equivalent of a magical wind carrying you away. That would cause quite a stir, wouldn't it? You forget to ask Arroven about it though when he holds out his arm, waiting patiently for you to step closer, fingers gentle in their continued grip on your hand.

He’s still giving you the chance to turn away.

You take a breath, thinking back to the nerves you’d felt, packing up a bag and deciding to visit somewhere based on coincidences and the hearsay of magic. You think of Mora, and the apartment that feels more like home to you than nearly anything else ever has. The way everything fits here, every piece of the city you've set foot in branded on your brain, clearer than any map. You step close, eagerly letting Arroven curl his arm around your back and then lift you up in a bridal carry. His forearms and biceps tense, bracing you as he prepares, and then the snap of his wings flaring open makes your heart jump before he leaps. His wings catch a sudden breeze swooping into the street, allowing it to lift the both of you well clear of the ground before he starts to flap. The slight dip in elevation as he finds his rhythm makes you clutch a little tighter, but Arroven doesn’t complain. In fact, when you glance at him, he seems to be holding back a smug little smile.

It’s cold when he finally crests over the top of the nearest buildings. Between the chill, and the fast growing height between you and the ground, you have no issues absolutely clinging to Arroven’s neck. You don't feel like you're going to fall, but it's still safer than sitting meekly in his arms, isn't it? You try to twist your head about to see everything below you, but another rush of cold wind makes you squint. It takes a moment before you realize Arroven isn't moving though, he's simply keeping the both of you suspended in midair.

“Your address?” Arroven asks as soon as you start to frown, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“Ah.” You give it to him, laughing when you meet his still-shy gaze. “I suppose that’s a little important.”

While the walk would have left you both a little tired, the flight is a fairly short one. You have just enough time to relish all the places you’re pressed in close, to enjoy what little warmth you’ve managed to keep with the wind seeping through your clothes, when Arroven lands in front of your quiet building. There are no witnesses but the dim streetlights, the sound of his flapping wings muffled by the mist beginning to roll through the city. Arroven lowers you almost reluctantly, fingers slow to uncurl so you can step down onto the pavement. He takes a step back as soon as you do, like he needs the space between you to think.

“Still up for coming inside?” You ask, giving him the same chance he’d given you earlier. You jerk a thumb at the locked door, searching for your keys with your other hand.

Arroven’s head jerks forward almost too fast, the dark feathers on his skull prickling upwards. His wings snap closed, tight against his back again as soon as you unlock your door. It’s only mildly nerve wracking, having him follow you up to your place, and you think it might be because of how nervous he’s acting. He flinches away from the wall when he barely brushes it, almost tripping over his own boots as he goes up the stairs. He’s been shy from the get-go, but this-

“Arroven,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, hand pausing on your door handle. “Is something wrong?”

He breathes out, turning his head so the plugs in his earlobes clack against his horns, blue-green eyes roving over the hall. “No,” he says slowly, forcing himself to stop hunching into his hoodie, to take his wringing hangs out of the front pocket. “I’ve just, it’s just that I keep-” He stays where he is, brow furrowing for all of five seconds before he’s huffing and stepping into your space. When Arroven leans down, his pupils are needle thin, that sunshine warm smell suffusing the air. He was summoning up courage, you realize, just in time to let your eyes fall closed as he cradles your jaw with both hands. They dwarf your human face, his fingertips easily reaching all the way to the back of your neck, but his touch may well be the softest thing you’ve ever known. His kiss is more the brush of his mouth over the shape of yours, a slip of a taste when his tongue follows the curve of your lower lip. He hums, softly, but when you kiss him back? When your tongue touches his and you try to stand on your tip-toes to deepen things, when you stumble a step closer—Arroven’s groan is gratifying. Achingly slowly, he draws his hands down the side of your neck, leaving you free to control the pace of the kiss. His thumbs trace your collarbone, slow, deep circles that make you wish you weren’t standing out here, fully clothed and too warm.

You pull away, licking your lips and glancing down the hall. There’s no one there, despite your pulse loud in your ears and your breath heaving, surely loud enough to wake even those in the very depths of sleep. Arroven’s breath hitches, and for a moment he sways, ready to chase you for another kiss. “Wait, wait,” you say softly, trying not to smile too wide when his eyes flicker open, dark pupils growing larger. He starts to straighten, embarrassment lifting his shoulders. “Maybe we should get in my house first?” You rush to say, not wanting to potentially scar one of your neighbors, but not wanting him to rush away either.

His mouth opens on reflex, and then closes, slipping into a gentle smile. “Yes,” he says, and then you have to swallow, watching his eyes slide down to your hands and then further down to your knees.

You get your door open before he touches you again, but you’re only a few steps inside when Arroven reaches for you. He strokes the back of his knuckles down your forearm, fingertips only barely grazing your hips. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, one of his fingers catching two of yours. “Touching,” he explains, the edge of his thumbnail stroking over your wrist and the base of your thumb and back. “Being close to, well…” He breathes in when you step into him, and grows as still as a statue when you balance against him, reaching around his middle to swing the front door shut. This close, Arroven still smells of sunshine, but there’s a sweeter, crisper undertone that makes you want to close your eyes to savor it, to breathe it in. He’s nearly vibrating with you pressed close though, hands hovering somewhere over the middle of your back, trying to keep himself still. He’s waiting for you to give him the go ahead, still caught up in his nerves... Or maybe just manners?

You grin, gently pushing yourself back a step before you smooth out your expression. “Part of your hoard?” You wonder aloud, but then you can’t keep yourself straight faced any longer, wanting him to recognize the words for the gentle teasing they are. You smile. “How about you touch me then?”

Arroven huffs, pleased, and then you quickly discover how needy he can be. He kisses you all the way down the hall, his wings nearly catching on picture frames, hands trembling in their stroking over your back. He keeps pausing at the top of your hips, like he wants to let his hands drift lower, but focuses on his mouth instead, mouth and teeth moving from your lips, to your jaw and down to your neck. You don’t think he’s willing to risk going further though, knowing that it would likely end up with both of you unbalanced and on the floor instead of the bed.

“Distracted?” You ask, reaching blindly around your doorframe, searching for the lightswitch as Arroven’s tongue flickers over the pulse on the left side of your neck. Your own breathing stutters for a moment, heat building in your veins. “You keep-”

Arroven’s breath puffs over the damp patch he’s left on your skin as he lifts his head, violet tongue sliding along the sharp points of his teeth. “Hardly,” Arroven interrupts, and his wings tense when you hook your fingers into the neck of his hoodie, drawing him further into the room. Your fingers find the lightswitch, the soft ring of the bulb lighting strangely loud in the room. “You’re all I can see. All I can focus on. ..am I missing something? Cues?” He asks, voice gone lower when you give his hoodie a fierce tug. He follows, all too willingly, fingers flexing around your hips.

“Hardly,” you say back, teasing as you back up towards the bed. You pull when you lean back, expecting him to let you fall, to fall with you, but his wings flare again. He catches himself on the blankets, hands to either side of your body, the blue-green of his eyes swallowed by his pupils as he takes the sight of you in. “Still good?” You ask after a moment, because he’s staring, because he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Tell me,” Arroven blurts, arms tensing as his fingers twist into the blankets. “Tell me what to do,” he pleads, gaze catching on every sliver of bared skin he can find. “I’m.. finding it a little difficult to think. All I want to do is make you happy, make you want to-” He stops, feathered brows drawing together as he considers his words.

You arch an eyebrow, your hands stilling just shy of his chest. The way he’d hesitated, his flighty touches? they all make a bit more sense now. He’d asked you to stay in the city, had mentioned your belonging here. If you wanted to leave, if you insisted on stopping, Arroven wouldn’t keep you. But he wants you to stay here.

“Little to no thinking,” you muse, unable to keep from smiling as he hangs onto your every word. “Undress me,” you finally decide, and his nostrils flare before he sets to work. He’s terribly careful, every brush of his scaled knuckles whisper-soft and cool against your skin, but his breathing is ragged by the time he’s finished and your heart has sped in response. You’re tempted to make him undress himself too. In fact, he would probably do just as you asked, but you’re too impatient to get your hands back on him. “Hoodie off,” you declare, half amazed that he’s obeying your whims, “and lay down on the bed.”

Arroven listens immediately, tucking his wings in close before he’s pulling off the hoodie, careful around the curl of his horns and the arch of his wings. He isn’t wearing a shirt, but with his wings, you understand why. Most of those with wings don’t favor mass produced clothes or modern fashion. He’s on the bed before you can finish pushing yourself back up, jeans low on his hips, pale belly and chest all the brighter compared to the black and teal pattern of his scales. His legs spread reflexively when you stand, jeans growing taut when you reach for him. Your hands are steady, even if your pulse isn’t, but Arroven doesn’t seem to care. He looks blissed out from this much touch alone, jaw gone slack, eyelids heavy as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He exhales when you pull at his jeans, eyes zeroed in on your face.

He’s thicker than he is long, and as pale as his abdomen, save for a violet tinge that makes you think of his tongue. Nestled as he is in the ‘v’ of his unzipped jeans, it’s all you can do to keep yourself from stroking him straight away, or even leaning down to-

“Maybe I can think,” Arroven says hoarsely. He lifts one of his hands, gentleman-like, offering it to you palm up. “Let me?” He asks, though you’re not entirely sure what he wants you to let him do.

Mannerly, you can’t help but think, lips twitching as you place your hand in his. The older races are, generally. It’s something to fall back on if they’re nervous or unsure. Not that most of them would ever admit to it.

“Are you thinking I should leave your boots on?” You get one knee on the bed before you pause, glancing back at his legs still hanging over the edge.

Arroven hums, but his grip on your fingers tightens for a second, not wanting to let go. “I’ll worry about those later,” he says, and then inhales sharply when you straddle his lap, cock pulsing as you settle against him. If he wants to let his jeans tangle around his boots, you’re not going to complain. It’s a bit of a thrill, knowing that he’s too impatient to fuss with them.

“Boots on, then. Now, what am I supposed to let you do?” You lean forward, drawing an aimless, spiraling pattern from his abdomen up to his ribcage. He’s much warmer now, with you astride his thighs and his wings trapped beneath him on the bed. It looks uncomfortable, but he hasn’t mentioned them once.

Hesitant, Arroven’s hold on you loosens, and then his hand drops to your thigh, eyebrows furrowing when he finally speaks. “Sit on my face?”

The brevity of it, the tone of uncertainty, makes your mouth twitch. “Jumping right in there, aren’t we? And here I thought you were kind of shy.”

“I am!” Arroven blurts and then covers his face with one hand, laughing quietly at himself. “I am,” he says, a bit more composed when he lets his hand fall away. “Though shyness has hardly ever been a factor in my favor. What is it humans say? Better to rip off the bandage?”

You crawl halfway up his body, smiling wider when he forgets to breathe. “Had to get the anxiety out of the way?” You brush a kiss over his chin, eyes catching on the curl of his horns. He’s moved so carefully that you’ve yet to feel the sharp points of them catching your skin, but if you sit on his face… You ignore Arroven’s disappointed sigh as you turn away to stroke the pad of your thumb over his right horn, wondering whether he has any feeling in them. They’re as ink dark as some of his scales and twisted in a lovely spiral that perfectly circles his pointed, gauged ears. Arroven isn’t reacting like he has sensation in them, though he reacts to every other little touch of you against his scales. “You’re going to have to help me balance,” you confess, sitting back against his middle. “Because even though they aren’t terribly sharp, I rather think I’ll be risking my thighs. Don’t you?”

Arroven stares, blinking, and then he looks horrified, which makes you wonder how long it’s been since he’s been close to a human, if ever.

“I’m not against this,” you add, grinning, “just to be clear.”

For a moment, all he says in response is a strangled sounding “Ah,” before he blinks again, glancing up at the ceiling. “I can... I will help. I’ll be careful. More than careful.”

It takes a few moments, and some adjustment, before you’re finally able to settle over his face. Your heart starts to pound a little faster when Arroven opens his mouth, those dagger-like teeth flashing in the dim light. His hands are strong though, curling around your thigh and bracing your hip. He’s too tall for you to do more than help balance against his chest, though you can see that he’s still wonderfully hard, and his cock is starting to leak. You’d love nothing more than to take him in hand, to taste him, but then Arroven nips your inner thigh, and you stop paying attention to his cock and start focusing on sensation. Your fingers curl at the first hot swipe of his tongue, pressing a little hard into the ventral scales over his chest, and the next slow lick has your eyes falling closed.

It’s not easy to stay steady, to keep your arms and legs from quivering the longer he licks and slurps. Arroven sucks small kisses over your thighs and the left cheek of your ass, his teeth only ever the barest pressure on your skin. His horns graze you, but he’s true to his word in keeping you balanced. The texture of them against your skin is just something more to feel, to enjoy as he tilts his head this way and that. Pleasure builds, faster by far than the magic that built in your veins, that left you aching with the need to come to the city. If that ache had been anything close to what you’re feeling now, warm, and slick, with the heady pressure of Arroven’s fingers on your skin, you would have picked up on the breadcrumb trail a lot sooner.

“You’re go- going to push me over the edge,” you warn with a gasp, legs starting to tremble. He moves you in response, starts to rock your hips so all he has to do is stick out his tongue, but your hands are shaking now too, cluing him into your urgency. Arroven shakes his head from side to side, a little wild, the plugs in his earlobes clattering against his horns with every shift. You bite down on your lower lip, orgasm rolling swiftly over you and nearly choke on the curse that wants to leave your mouth. He keeps you there, aching and weak, until you pat awkwardly at his chest, releasing you reluctantly with one last obscene noise of satisfaction.

You sit next to him, still a little unsteady and grin down at his pleased, messy face. “Now, unless you have any other lovely thoughts to share - your turn?”

His rough sounding “Please,” has your libido jumping back into overdrive, but it’s safety that has you slipping off the bed to dig out a bottle of lube from your things. He’s half pushed himself back up when you come back to the bed, resting on his elbows, fingers twisted gently into the blankets. His wings are partially stretched out now too, one of them reaching all the way to the end of your bed.

“Are your wings alright?” You ask, wondering if you should throw away the idea of climbing back into his lap, lube already pooling in the palm of your hand.

Arroven smiles again though, waving away your worry. “Tense,” he offers, as explanation. “I was more focused on you, but they’re good. I promise.” His cock bobs as you approach, and then he lays back down, irises vanishing into the ether of his pupils.

“If you promise, I suppose I’ll let it go.” You close the lube, only a bit ungracefully, and toss it to the side, climbing back onto the bed and straddling his thighs.

Your first wet squeeze of his cock has him whimpering, your hand barely fitting around him at his thinnest point. When you stroke, he bucks nearly unseating you until he claps his hands onto your thighs, muttering a hasty apology. Despite being tempted to laugh, you narrow your eyes, squeezing him just a little harder. “You don’t have to be still, but move a little slower for now, hm?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say, and then his jaw goes slack when you press him against you. “Oh,” he breathes, nails pricking your skin as you hold him in place. You rub yourself against his cock, up and back down, a slow undulation that makes you tense, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm.

And then you straighten, pressing the head of his cock into you. The first slow stretch of him inside you echoes the steady ache of magic, has your breath rushing from your lungs in a gasp. “Fuck,” you breathe and then glance at Arroven’s face. His head is tilted back, mouth open to reveal all of those sharp teeth, and his eyes are closed tight. You think he might be keeping himself from looking at you, might be trying to stem the urge to buck again, to move at all. You tilt your hips and press yourself down though, wiggling, and then Arroven is cursing. You don’t recognize the language, but you understand the sentiment behind it, the pleading tone that softens the edges of the words. It’s hard to concentrate, to keep yourself from getting distracted when all you want to do is sink down every inch of him and then just lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath. “Too much?” You manage to ask, but all Arroven does is shake his head and then carefully ease his grip on your thighs, stroking down to your knees and back up. Your legs, among other things, are definitely going to ache after this.

You ride Arroven until he’s a shaking, breathless mess, until he can’t help but tense his thighs every time he bottoms out, and you can barely stay up. You reach up, fingers just barely brushing his chin to make him pay attention. “Fuck me,” you command and his wings stretch to either side with force. You nearly scream when he starts fucking into you with purpose, and as lovely as your neighbors have been, you have the feeling they’re going to complain at some point. Every thrust has you tightening up on reflex, still shaky from your earlier orgasm, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself upright. A few moments later and Arroven arches as he comes inside you, clutching tightly to you until he’s finished, breath deep and rasping. You don’t wait. Carefully you flop down next to him, smiling tiredly against the blankets. You’re not sure your legs will carry you for the next hour or so, but it’s hardly something to complain about.

“Do you give all newcomers to the hoard such a.. Vigorous welcome?” You ask, laughing, your voice rough, not really expecting him to answer. Even though he’s clearly a little more comfortable, even though he’s been clinging to your skin and he looks wrecked by all the activity. Arroven nearly chokes.

“No,” he says immediately. “Moments like this,” he murmurs, reaching out for you, ventral scales on his palm smooth over the apple of your cheek, “moments like this are few and far between.” There’s a low rumble of noise from him when you roll close to brush another kiss over his lips, eyes fluttering closed. It’s all you can do not to laugh again, not to quote the poem at him or interrupt the soft moment. It still sits in the back of your mind though, sweet and lilting.

the city is hoarding hearts

it draws them in, with coin, with art

reflects their dreams on mirrored glass

sings siren songs to catch them fast

the lights?

they gleam, they glitter, bright

it steals a piece, with every sight

roots get worn

they split, they splinter

'but i'll keep you warm, in the depth of winter'

the city whispers, it cajoles, it cries

it'll sink it's talons into your thighs

it tears, it scrapes, it batters the unwary

but oh, the love it gifts, to those who tarry

the city promises, you'll be most adored

so can you, will you, join the hoard?

#exophilia #dragon boyfriend #dragon x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #d.darling writes

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mae-gi-writes · 4 years

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Where The Sea Birds Sleep | Kevin (The Boyz Imagine)

A cute confession needs no words.

A/N: I just wanted a cute fluffy Kevin au because it’s been a while and I forgot how great it feels to write for him. xx Stay safe, stay healthy and take care y’all <3

Genre: aquarium trip au, fluff, cute hand-holding.

------

The school of fish glide through the aquamarine water, scales flashing all colours of the rainbow as they catch the light bouncing off the aquarium walls. Kevin is already steps ahead of you like a giddy child, palms pressing against the cool glass and nose practically squished up against it. His gaze swivels back and forth to catch a glimpse of as many species as he can and a small giggle bursts from his lips at intervals.

You watch with your arms crossed a few meters back, an amused grin adorning your face. You feel Jacob nudge you, "you're doing it again."

You immediately wipe your face blank, "doing what?"

"Staring Kevin down like he's a fresh piece of sashimi you wish to gobble up."

You slap his arm without hesitation and the said man yelps, "piss off," you mutter.

On your other side stands Juyeon, hands shoved in his pockets and looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but here.

The three of you had given in to Kevin's needless whining about aquarium visits, with the latter dropping subtle hints every now and again-- pamphlet deals, coupons to buy a fish, a discount on end of the year sales for aquarium visits. This guy literally picked up everything that had the marine animal plastered over it for his friends to see, and thus you had decided to take matters into your own hands, considering that no one else would otherwise.

Not because you had a huge mega crush on the said young man.

No, this is solely because of your long standing friendship and a way to make him stop whining.

Clearly though, Jacob and Juyeon don't think so. They both playfully nudge their elbows to your sides as you keep following Kevin's voice pitched with excitement.

"Did you drag us along on purpose just to stand there and do nothing?" Juyeon murmurs into your ear while you enter the jellyfish section, causing you to shoot him a look, "Don't," there's an edge to your tone but Juyeon isn't afraid, even reaches over to mess the perfect ponytail you took thirty minutes to perfect.

"Juyeon!" You yell in a growing mixture of annoyance and he runs away to hide behind a still awestruck Kevin. The latter blinks back to reality, noticing the glower on your face before he asks what's wrong.

You grumble something about Juyeon being a dick, to which he blows you a kiss. The aquarium is devoid of people, making it easier for you to take your time or rather, to wait for Kevin who ooes and aahs at every single fish he lays eyes upon. Warmth blossoms through your heart as you see his face light up, a smile tugging your lips upwards without realizing it.

That is precisely one of the reasons why you love him so much. He's amazed by life itself and watching him is like experiencing a different kind of sunset everyday; breathtakingly beautiful and different.

You wish you had that kind of optimism. But like a flower in need of sunlight, you had found yourself tilting towards Kevin in search for his warmth to envelope you.

It is when you reach the manta ray section that you jump up in excitement, quickly scooting beside the said dark-haired man where you can see the birds of the sea gliding through the waters with a gentleness that causes you to grin, not realizing that you're currently mirroring Kevin's expression.

"Oh look at that one! It's a baby!" Kevin points and evidently enough, there's a paler, smaller manta ray accompanying its mother.

"They're so cute," you find your voice as you feel the softest brush of manta ray skin against your palm. You giggle, "it tickles."

"Manta rays are so poetic," Kevin says, "I could write a whole book about how they swim."

"I'd buy that book in a heartbeat," you joke, "they've always been fascinating to me."

Your hand suddenly brushes against his by accident and you quickly pull back, heat exploding through your cheeks and you pray to god that the darkness of the aquarium is enough to hide it.

"Why?"

"I don't know," you can feel his eyes, those beautiful angular almond eyes, on you. You keep your eyes glues to the waters though, "I guess I'm a hopeless romantic. We don't call them birds of the sea for nothing."

He hums in agreement, "that's true."

"Why do you like fish so much?"

There's a soft pause, broken only by the sound of water churning in the background.

"Ever since I was small, I had a fish tank," he starts, "I would look at it everyday and try to figure out why the fish never ate each other."

You snort, "calm down cannibal."

"It's true! I swear it's a kid thing okay?"

"Sure."

"Well anyway, my mom used to take care of them back when she didn't have a job. So she told me that they had their own ecosystem and that breaking the balance of it would ultimately create havoc."

"Hence cannibalism?" You notice his shoulder against yours. Had he always been this close? Maybe you're just imagining things.

"You're such a weirdo Y/N," Kevin crinkles his nose at your comment, "people would just call it the cycle of life. Why'd you gotta be so vulgaar?"

"I wouldn't be me if I weren't vulgar."

"No," his alto grows softer, closer to you, "you wouldn't."

Another pause ensues, though it is comfortable. You pet the ray that is lifting its fin as if in a solitary wave and you gently stroke the underside before your hand dives back down into the water. It knocks into Kevin's.

"Sorry," you mutter before going to pet another ray that is incoming. But warmth suddenly engulfs your little finger and blinking down in confusion, your mouth grows dry at the way the young man has his little finger hooked into yours. What the--?

Your eyes find his face only to see him blatantly caressing another ray with his other hand, trying his best to ignore your poignant stare. Questions are bouncing at the tip of your tongue and you press your lips together, realizing that you do indeed like the feel of his finger around yours.

Noticing that you aren't pulling back yet, Kevin grows a little more confident. He leans into your shoulder a little more, just the gentlest pressure of clothed body to body.

Then, the rest of his fingers weave through yours like magic and you can't believe how right it feels.

You probably stay that way for a few minutes longer even though it feels like seconds. All too soon, you feel Kevin shift while murmuring that maybe you should catch up with Jacob and Juyeon, who have long since disappeared. He doesn't let go of your hand though, keeps holding it tightly in his until he finds some tissues to wipe it off.

He holds your hand so gently between his, his touch fleeting and light, yet sending an array of goosebumps skittering down your said arm. You can barely breathe as you search his eyes, but when he looks back at you, the tenderness of his face is enough to render your heart into a frenzied staccato.

"I wonder where they've gone," he hums, tugging you along with a thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. Your face is flaming red at this point and he'd be an idiot not to notice.

"I--" you can't keep your eyes off your entwined hands, "I don't know."

He glances back, notices the focus of your attention, before grinning playfully, "what?"

Your gaze flits upwards to his, "nothing."

His hand squeezes yours as if in understanding and upon hearing his soft playful giggle, you let out a small laugh before squeezing back fondly.

A few minutes later, you spot the missing two boys by the coffee stand don't hesitate to scowl at them when you notice their eyes lingering over your linked hands, smirks flashing across their faces.

"Hey Kevin," Jacob calls out, "Why are you holding Y/N's hand?"

Oh god. You wish you can punch him. Your entire body grows still.

Kevin, with soft peony cheeks, only grins in return before he says a little smugly, "because I like her. And because she's going to be mine."

At this point you feel so hot that you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to combust right there and then, nudging Kevin as you bite your lip to stop the smile from spreading across your face. Meanwhile, the other two boys high-five each other as Kevin leans in a little closer, lips just mere inches from your ear:

"So will you? Be mine?"

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murdertrialimagines · 4 years

Text

Kokichi, Kaede, Shuichi, and Kiibo X They/Them! Reader (Dream Soulmate AU!)

‘If it’s alright, how about a soulmate AU where the soulmates can occasionally meet in each other’s dreams, but can’t remember their soulmate’s identity when they wake up? w/ a curious, persistent, and thoughtful reader (they/them) and Kokichi(!!!), Kaede, Shuichi, and Kiibo please u///u thank you for all of your amazing work! ♡’

I am back from the dead. After three months of silence, I am back. I have a cosplay Tiktok now. Anyone want it? Story under the tag!

Kokichi

When in dreams with your soulmate, you know everything about them, but when you wake up, you have barely a hint

A voice, a scent, a first name if you’re extremely lucky

And for you...

You had that laugh

The laugh that this boy (it was a boy, right?) had that rang in your head everyday, awake or otherwise

You of course asked him a plethora of questions, but could never remember the answers

That didn’t stop you though, each night you fruitlessly searched

It haunted you, in a way

You had a small book younger you swore to fill with all of the things you could remember from those nights

Yet all you had written was ‘purple’ and ‘laugh’.

You asked all of your friends if they knew anyone with the two specific characteristics, but no one knew, or were too busy with their own hunts

You sat outside the small cafe, taking a sip of your cold drink to balance the warm day

This is where you sat when you thought, as no one approached you and that gave you time to think

And today you sat, book in hand to try and figure out the clues your brain has so helpfully left you

But the words seemed to be a mess of nothing mixed with more nothing

“For the last time I’m not getting you the unicorn drink.” A stern and possibly annoyed voice rang from inside the shop, radiating out of the open door

“But I really want it!!”

“You got it last time and hated it.”

“But I want it!”

‘Children’, you thought. ‘Never wanna be wrong.’

After what sounded like a little hushed arguing, you grateful for the litttle quiet, the two seemed to hash out a deal

“Fine. Unicorn drink.”

“Knew you’d crack.” Followed by a distinct laugh

That child is a little- wait.

Quickly standing up, rattling the table a bit, you leaned into the doorway

A small teen balanced out next to a taller one, both donning grey and purple hair respectively-

“Wait.”

You must’ve said that a little bit louder than expected as the few people in the shop looked your way

You kept your eyes on the short purple boy, until your eyes locked with his

And the memories suddenly came flooding back

All of the dreams you shared, the laughs, the arguments, the plans you two made for when you found each other, it all came forward

“...it’s you..”

The boy’s surprised face, probably from seeing all of these memories as well, turned into a grin one could only describe as childish

“Shuichi!! My soulmate is right there! And they’re more attractive than Kaede!”

This earned the boy a shove, coincidentally in your direction

He stepped closer, a slightly more serious look on his face

“So, I’m Kokichi! Who are you, how are you, and what’s your blood type?”

“Uh, Y/n L/n, I’m good, actually, and...b positive?”

The boy, Kokichi as it was, cracked a smile, looking slightly down at you

“Well, this should be an interesting development!”

“What do you mean?”

The boy suddenly took your hand. With a smile Kokichi started to drag you off, leaving his friend behind

”we gotta go boast to Miu that I got a hot soulmate!”

“W-What?!”

Kaede

Every since you started dreaming of your soulmate, everyone has noticed how refreshed you had been

Some people fought with their soulmates, earning them the feeling of nightmares or never sleeping when they wake up

And although you can’t exactly remember what happens in your dreams, you can tell how serene it is

Faint hints of vanilla and the sound of a piano being played, is what you would describe your dreams as

Everyone said you were lucky to have such dreams that refresh you each morning

But you secretly wished for a little more

People always believed the idea that the more outgoing your soulmate was, the more you could remember when you woke up

And you, you could only remember classical music

It didn’t bother you much, as you knew for sure you had a soulmate, and a possibly famous one, as your friends always teased you about

So as payback, you dragged them to every recital you could find in the area, forcing them to watch the pianist with you in hopes it was your soulmate

Yet you never found them, until you transferred schools

First day at hopes peak high-school, as a reserve course student

The uproar of bullying towards reserve students had died down before you transferred, luckily, but some still picked on the kids who got in without a talent

You had been amazed at all of the talented people in the school, gawking at all of their talents whenever they showed off for you

You were especially interested in all of the musical talents, as your soulmate had planted an appreciation for music in you

When you heard of an ultimate musician, you had a small thought wondering if she might be your soulmate, but that idea was quickly tossed when you saw how intense her personality was

You would definitely have remembered that

When you met her, you told her of your situation in passing, and your soulmate troubles seemed to stick in her mind

“I know every musical talent there is here! I can totally hook up my bud with a cute player!”

She began introducing you to every person who’s talent had to do with music, yet none seemed to be a match

It had turned to months of being at the school with no luck

‘Maybe my soulmate is just a normal person with a knack for piano...’ you thought as you laid on one of the benches in the school garden, arm over your eyes to block the sun

You let your mind wander, listening to the noises of nature, the water from the nearby fountain, and the kids chatting as they walked past

You were almost asleep when you heard it

A soft humming voice, humming a small tune that sounded extremely familiar

Quickly moving your arm from your face, you sat up to see a blonde walking past, slightly swaying her head to the beat of the humming

“H-hey!”

You jumped up and grabbed her shoulder, the girl turning around surprised

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to know...what’s the name of the song you’re humming?”

“Oh, it’s Minuet in F Major!” The girl said with a slight smile

Finally putting a name to the song you’ve heard so much in your dreams, you smiled back before continuing

“So, uh, this might sound weird, but I hear that song in my dreams a LOT, so I was wondering if you played piano or something?”

She gave a gasp before her eyes lit up

“I do, and I play this in my dreams for my soulmate!” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Kaede Akamatsu, Ultimate Pianist!”

Taking her hand, you smiled at her once more. “I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

“So am I! What’s your name?”

“Y/n”

“That’s a nice name!”

“Thank you! I’ve actually been looking for my soulmate since I came to this school, but none of the other talents have been a match”

“What bad timing!” She said with a laugh. “I’ve been out of country for the last few months playing in a championship!”

Kaede grabbed your hand, cupping it into hers

“I’m so glad I finally get to meet you, Y/n! My friends are gonna be so excited to meet you!”

As she began to drag you away you smiled at her, knowing how serene your life was going to be from now on, awake or not.

Shuichi

You had a great memory

You remembered a lot of things about your soulmate, their black hair, their strange hobbies, and the stories of their friends

Yet you could not find them /anywhere/

You first started searching for just people with black hair that matched your age, but that quickly turned out to be impossible

So you started looking for people with his hobbies, that many teens couldn’t be interested in murders, or mysteries, right?

Wrong

So you began to look for people who were possibly his friends, but that was near impossible as well, seeming as they didn’t go to your school and you couldn’t wander onto another campus

You closed the book you wrote all of your clues in, the entire thing filled with scribbles and ink smudges, writing and clues only you could understand

You were walking home from school that day, a few textbooks as well as your notebook being carried in your arms as your bag was already full from the other assignments given to you

You looked at your watch, realizing the time you spent searching for your soulmate after class meant you had minutes to reach your bus

Picking up speed, you began to run, trying to get to the bus stop in time, paying attention to only your pace and the seconds ticking by

Running past a small patch of construction, you didn’t notice the patch of newly broken sidewalk, tripping on a larger piece of cement

Preparing to hit the dirt you braved yourself, closing your eyes

But you fell into something on the way down, taking it with you

Opening your eyes, you saw a boy on the ground next to you, a schoolboy by the looks of all of the books scattered along yours

“Omigosh, I’m so sorry!” You began scrambling to pick up your things

Adjusting his collar, the boy helped you as well as picked up his

“It’s completely fine,” he gave you a smile but you didn’t see it as you were looking for your journal

Spotting it you picked it up, managing all of your books into a carry-able pile

“Do you need any help? I’m shui-“

“I got it, but thank you! I have to run now!”

Giving him a small smile you began to run again, leaving the boy and his belongings behind

You had managed to catch your bus and your breath, and soon got home

Dropping your books onto your desk, you let out a sigh or relief as your arms stretched, joints popping slightly from being in the position for so long

Having nothing to do, you decided to look through your journal again, hoping that maybe you could piece something together

Picking it up you laid down and opened it, ready to decipher your cryptic dreams

But this wasn’t your handwriting

Scanning the pages, you analyzed the small and neat handwriting

‘Curious, rambles a bit’ ‘lots of jokes, I think (your hair color) hair?’ ‘Bubbly, but also dark at moments’ ‘I can’t find them, so I don’t think they go to Hopes Peak with me’

You kept looking at the book, wondering what had happened to it. Did you accidentally grab his? What were the odds that he was your soulmate, and had the same exact journal, for the same exact reason?

Extremely improbable, but by the looks of what was in your hands, completely possible

You continued reading the book, searching for clues to his identity

‘Kaito said that I should just remember harder. He doesn’t get that that doesn’t work because he’s known his soulmate since before dreaming of them’

A kaito...wait you’ve heard this name somewhere

Opening your phone you googled the name Kaito, paired with Hopes Peak

You found headline after headline about the famed teen who is becoming the youngest astronaut in history

Scrolling through some articles on the page, you passed one that was headed with a group picture, labeled as Kaito and his friends

And in that photo, albeit somewhat in the corner, was the boy you ran into earlier

Solidifying where the boy went, as well as his friend group, you closed the book and left your home, looking up the address for the boys school

By the time you got there, classes had ended for the day, kids swarming to go home or meet up with friends

You sat in the front of the school for a few minutes until you saw a familiar head of spiky purple hair

“Hey!” You ran towards him, stopping in front of him. “Sorry, are you Kaito?”

“Yeah dude!” He threw a thumbs up, winking at you. “Is there anything you need?”

“Well um, I ran into a kid- I think he’s your friend? He wears the grey suit and hat?”

“Yeah, that’s Shuichi! I was just about to meet up with him. Whadya need?”

“Shuichi...” you finally put a name to the boy. “Well...! I found his notebook and, I think he might be my soulmate?” You confessed, the last part of your sentence sped up in uncertainty

At this, Kaito lit up, grabbing your arm

“As a matter of fact, you are strangely similar to what he describes in his dreams! Cmon, I’ll take you to him!”

Before you could protest he dragged you off into town

He pulled you to the shopping district, entering into a small cafe close to where you and Shuichi first met

You eyed the patrons, finding the boy immediately in the back

“Shuichi!” Kaito boomed, causing you to wince as he dragged you to the table he occupied

“Ah-kaito! Who uh, did you bring?”

“This is...uh...”

“Y/n...”

“Y/n!” Kaito slapped you on the back. “They’re your soulmate!”

Both of you faltered at the sudden statement, looking at each other with surprise in your eyes

“My...soulmate?” The boy in front of you finally said before pulling out a notebook from his book bag

“So this must be yours?” Shuichi handed you the book, and you recognized it as your own journal

“Yes!” You flipped through it, glad to see it unharmed. “So, this one must be yours?”

You returned his identical journal, not missing the flash of joy in his eyes as he grazed his fingertips on the spine “oh, thank you!”

You two stared at each other for a moment, taking in the idea of finally finding your soulmate when a hand was clasped on both of your shoulders

“So!” Boomed Kaito. “Are you two going to have a date now or what?”

“Uh, yeah...yeah!” Shuichi spoke, softly grabbing your empty hand. “I want to learn more about the one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

The soft smile he flashed caused your heart to skip a beat. “Yeah...I’d love that.”

Kiibo

Everyone rumors of the very unlucky few who don’t meet their soulmates in their dreams

Some say they’re doomed for a life of loneliness, while others hypothesize that they will be matched with another dreamless person

Yet these people were rare, almost never heard of, so no one worried

But when you realized you never once glimpsed a potential soulmate in your dreams, you panicked

Was it just a late start? Was your soulmate dead? Were you defective?

You kept your worries to yourself, opting to tell people vague answers when asked about your dreams

You didn’t want to be pitied, you wanted to feel loved

You knew it was fruitless, but you knew that some people who were known to not have dreams of their soulmates found them anyways, but that was just a rumor

Still, the idea that possibly, just possibly, you could figure out someone is your soulmate without a dream kept hope in your soul

You happened to find a few people who were dreamless, who told you that when they found their soulmates, it was a feeling rather than a vision

With this hope in your heart, you continued your life, everyday praying that a new encounter would lead to that one person meant for you

And while it never did, you kept your head high

Until your little brothers drone broke while he was playing with it in the backyard, accidentally flying it into a tree and snapping some wiring in it

our parent had asked you to take it to a local repair shop to see if I was worth it to repair it instead of just buying another one

So you went, begrudgingly, to a downtown store that had confirmed over a phone call that they could fix the problem

When you got there however, you noticed smoke coming out of the building, and gasped at the idea of a fire happening

However, there were no flames in sight, nor panicking citizens or firemen

Cautiously, you walked in

Inside was a worker, the one you spoke to on the phone, you assumed

And with him was a...boy?

Smoke was pouring from the boys arm, as well as sporadic sparks here and there

The chime of the door opening must’ve alerted the two, as they turned to look at the new arrival

“You must’ve called about the drone,” the worker said with a small smile, eyeing the toy in your hands. “I’ll be right with you after helping this gentleman”

However, his words fell on deaf ears as you stared at the smoking customer, who stared back in return

Your vision felt blurry, yet somehow crystal clear

A sense of weightlessness washed over you as the boys eyes lit up, quite literally

And then his arm gave a small burst of sparks that caught into a small fire

The worker rushed to put out the fire on the teens arm as you absentmindedly walked over to him

“Did you...feel that?”

“I think so,” the boy said nervously, eyes shifting around your figure. “I’ve never felt an emotion like that before. Or an emotion in general.”

You gave a small giggle, causing the boy to again physically light up at your reaction, and again spark his arm

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You said, cheeks reddening. “It’s just...”

“I’m your soulmate.”

Taken aback by what the boy so calmly said, you gave him a bewildered look

“I mean,” the boy started again, as the worker tried to quickly fix his arm, probably in fear of his workshop burning down. “I just have a lot of data on how dreamless people find their soulmates, since technically I can’t dream...”

It made sense, his train of thought. As you looked over it was easy to tell he wasn’t really human. It didn’t freak you out however, as the feeling of simply finding the one for you made all of the worries in the back of your mind go away

The atmosphere settled into an awkward silence as you stared at each other, until the worker closed the boys arm with a clang

“There, done! Now please, leave before my shop burns down...”

He turned to leave, but turned back to you

He spit a piece of paper from his mouth, and you noticed it had a phone number on it

“Call me sometime, I am quite literally my own phone so I won’t miss it.”

You gave another small laugh before pocketing the slip of paper

“Thank you, uh...”

“Kiibo.”

“Thank you, Kiibo”

I will probably disappear for another 3 months, so nag me to write!

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa v3 imagine #danganronpa kiibo #kiibo #kaede akamatsu #danganronpa kaede #danganronpa shuichi #shuichi saihara #drv3 shuichi #shuichi #kiibo x reader #keade x reader #shuichi x reader #kokichi x reader #kokichi #kokichi ouma #danganronpa kokichi #danganronpa x reader

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peppersonironi · 3 years

Text

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter 2

Next chapter for my Duke Thomas Big Bang fic is up!

(Once again, a hearty thank you to my betas @queerbutstillhereand @theycallme-ook)

Read On Ao3

It was four am on a Friday morning, a week after Duke had decided he’d had enough of Bruce’s - and the other’s - incorrect opinion of him.

It was so early in the morning, that the main group of bats had been trickling back from patrol over the past hour or so. Stephanie and Cassandra had arrived first, followed by Jason ten minutes later. Then Tim had gotten back from his route with Harper, and Kate and Bette had stopped by for a bit (but eventually left for their own homes). Dick came home next, and Bruce had returned last with Damian.

Everyone was in varying states of winding down, with Stephanie at one end of the spectrum wearing silk pajamas, a fluffy robe which Duke was sixty-seven percent sure was Bruce’s, and bright pink bunny slippers Duke was positive were Dick’s. On the other side, Bruce hadn’t even pulled off his cowl, and was sitting down in front of the Batcomputer to work on a case.

Though Duke thought that Tim deserved his own category, dressed in a strange combination of disco track suit and kevlar body armor, and was hunched over three cans of energy drinks and a quart jug filled with espresso shots.

Duke leaned down to double check that his boots were laced up - one time he hadn’t, and had then proceeded to trip and fall into a garbage pile. Not. Fun.

He looked up, however, when Bruce clicked open a case file. So did everyone else, as if drawn by some invisible force.

They all clearly saw as Bruce hovered his mouse over a link which had been typed in sometime while the big bat had been away. The only hint to what it could be was the note reading “New Evidence.”

Bruce grunted in what for anyone else would be an exclamation of curiosity and went to click the link.

Which clearly went to YouTube.

In unison, all the bats’ eyes widened in realization. You see, in a family such as this one, pranks abounded. So they all had painstakingly memorized that series of letters and numbers.

They all knew what it meant.

Suddenly, the Batcave lit up with the dancing form of one Rick Astley. It was everywhere. On the several large monitors that made up the Batcomputer. The various screens spread across the caves. Everyone’s phones somehow were affected. As well as the X-Ray machine in the med bay, which was showing a skeleton dancing.

Bruce jumped up, rage full on his face. “Who did this? Make it stop!”

No one answered, all too frozen in shock at what had happened.

“Who…” Dick whispered from beside Jason, “Who would be that brave?”

“Yeah,” Jason whispered back, “Rick Rolls were banned at the 2015 family reunion after you played it two hundred and thirteen times in a row.”

Dick grinned, “those were good times.”

The two eldest boys began to bicker, Jason complaining that Rick Rolls were a part of the war crimes banned by the Geneva Convention, and Dick saying he “liked it: so there.”

Meanwhile, the song was reaching the chorus, and the other bats finally began to react. The three girls were dancing on top of exercise equipment, popping bottles of sparkling cider - or was that champagne? For their own sakes, they should hope it’s the former - they had pulled out of what seemed to be thin air.

Damian was in the corner, trying to get Titus to dance to the music - though he glanced around every so often to make sure that no one was noticing his moment of fun.

Tim was still nursing his collection of drinks like an alcoholic nursed a bottle.

Bruce was practically foaming at the mouth by that point.

“This is NOT FUNNY!”

That, of course, made everyone just start laughing harder. In the corner, Steph started to do the macarena completely off-tempo from the music. Cass seemed to be chugging the cider that Harper was pouring into her mouth.

Just then the holographic training simulations lit up, and Rick Astly began making his way across the cave, dancing all the way.

Bruce glared up at the semi transparent form of the singer, as if trying to force him into submission.

“T-pose to assert dominance!” Jason called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Yeah, that’ll totally work, B! Trust us!” Dick called as well.

Bruce took a moment to turn his head and glare at the two former Robins, who only smiled like the angels they clearly thought they were.

The image was not aided by the two giant stuffed swordfish just pulled from Jason’s utility belt.

“En guarde!” He cried, and tossed the one in his left hand at Damian, who had been trying to reassure his dog that the giant man wasn’t real.

The thirteen year old screeched, but caught the four foot long fish by its fin.

“This is animal abuse!” He cried.

“It’s not abuse if it’s dead!” Jason countered, and attacked the youngest bat with a passion.

As the duel progressed, Cassandra tried to raise her hand and gurgle out a bet on who would win, but began to choke on the liquid.

Harper cursed as she tossed away the sixth bottle of cider and tried to give Cass the heimlich maneuver.

Dick, meanwhile, pressed a button on one of the many consoles spread around the cave, and several stripper poles came out of hidden storage via hydraulics. He grabbed the nearest one, and began to dance.

“I THOUGHT I DISABLED THOSE?!” Bruce bellowed, as Dick began a twirl.

Stephanie, however, didn’t seem nearly as dismayed at the sight of the poles. She herself smacked a button next to her, and several disco balls dropped down from among the stalactites to join the fun. She then began to morph her macarena into an epic macarena. A few flips here, and a few pantomiming choking your enemies there. And a whole lot of randomly throwing glitter bombs at, well, everywhere.

But especially at the nearest authority figure.

Damian tripped over a bucket during his fight - apparently left over from Alfred’s earlier cleaning spree - and the soapy liquid spilled across the floor.

But, of course, them being the bats, Alfred didn’t use normal soap.

Huge bubbles began to farm from the liquid, the longest almost three feet in diameter, and rise up to the cave’s ceiling. The suds spread around, eagerly began to mingle with Stephanie’s glitter.

A solitary bubble, relatively small, floated over to Bruce’s head, and popped on one of his cowl’s ears. He was not amused.

*****

Five minutes later, everyone was lined up next to the Batcomputer with heads bowed in either shame or disappointment.

Bruce walked up and down the row, the perfect imitation of a drill sergeant. His glare matched as well.

“This is an outrageous breach of protocol,” he was saying, “the Batcomputer is not a toy, nor something to use for your own amusement. It is a serious tool-”

“Then why’s it called the Batcomputer?”

Bruce froze and whirled on Dick, who had chosen that inopportune moment to speak up.

“Because you were nine years old and saying no to you would have gotten me a meltdown.”

“It seems to me, Bossman,” Stephanie began, tenting her fingers in an attempt to act serious (the effect was strange combined with her bathrobe and slippers) “That you are perfectly happy to let Dick get away with things. But in this situation, with women present, you are strangely cold. This shows blatant sexism on your part and in this essay I will-”

“That’s enough, Stephanie.” Bruce cut off as a round of snorts and giggle erupted from the group of bats.

“You do realise that no one here is going to speak, right?” Jason asked, “You did teach us to resist torture. And - pardon my french, Alfred - but you are no fucking way close to the level of torture I’ve gone through. Namely waking up to Batcow sitting on top of me.”

“Are you commenting on her weight?” Damian demanded, glaring daggers at Jason.

“I said no such thing.”

“ Boys .” Bruce demanded, rubbing his temples. “Jason is right - not about Batcow’s weight - but I’m not going to get any of you to talk willingly.” He paused and made eye contact with every single bat present, trying to reach into their souls.

“Therefore,” he continued slowly, “I’m giving you one last chance. Otherwise: No one gets cookies from Alfred for two months. ”

The shock was immediate. Alfred’s cookies, of all kinds, were worth more than gold in the Manor. The ability to not have them? And for two months? Bruce truly was a cruel hearted tyrant if he was willing to go to such lengths.

Duke gulped.

“Fine, then.” Bruce said simply when no one answered. “I guess we’ll just have to check the security footage of the Cave.”

Why didn’t Bruce think of that earlier? He clearly wasn’t trying to give the kids an easy way out.

Bruce stalked over to the computer and began to furiously type at the keys, pulling up the footage for the past few days. The group watched in a tense silence as Bruce rifled through the multiple recordings, searching for the culprit.

“AHA!” Bruce grunted, upon finding a specific time stamp. There was a figure emerging from the shadows. He paused and then slowed down the video so they could all see who it was.

There were several gasps as the figure came into the light, looked around, and made his way to the computer. They had shown their face, not even bothering to hide.

Everyone whirled to Duke, then back to the screen.

“No way,” Harper whispered under her breath.

Because the person on the footage, who was now adding the link to the case file and hooking up bluetooth speakers, was Duke Thomas himself.

Bruce’s eye twitched.

There was a general consensus among the resident vigilantes in the cave at that time: Duke wasn’t going to live to tell the tale.

Duke felt uneasy under their scrutiny, unsure of what to do. This was his plan, after all. To be seen differently. But so far the lack of accusations or uproarious debate was disconcerting.

He looked up at Bruce, awaiting his reaction. Bruce didn’t meet Duke’s eyes.

“Hrn,” he grumbled angrily instead and whirled on Tim. Said teenager was barely standing up straight - well, he was leaning on Steph heavily - and blinked wearily around the cave. He didn’t seem to understand what was going on.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed for a long moment before he whipped around and furiously began to mess with the playback settings on the footage. Everyone stood still, not daring to move while Bruce grumbled under his breath.

Finally Bruce straightened and pointed dramatically toward the screen.

“There,” he grunted out, and everyone subconsciously leaned a little bit forward.

They didn’t see anything different from before, though Bruce’s finger did bring their attention to one of the bats that flew across the upper left hand corner. A few seconds of footage later, and yet another bat flew across in a similar pattern. Not exactly the same, so it wasn’t really out of the ordinary. Lord knows the bats would randomly fly out and into their hair much more than necessary.

“Note how the figure is disturbed when each bat flies across the screen,” Bruce said in the same voice he used when talking about a case - cold, impersonal, and yet like he was giving a college lecture.

No one spoke, not really sure what to say. I mean, what was the correct course of action when your father figure suddenly refuses to accept reality, and is grasping at the most unlikely of straws?

“I know this technique anywhere,” Bruce said more to himself than the line of vigilantes. He turned, completely passing over Duke, and set his sights on Tim.

“Timothy Jackson Drake,” Bruce growled, stalking forward, “What possessed you to doctor this footage?”

Tim didn’t respond, only mumbled incoherently and leaned onto Steph some more.

Bruce was furious, bearing his teeth as he spat out his response: “Now is not the time to use the anti-torture training I’ve given you.”

Tim nodded slowly and draped his arm on top of Stephanie’s head.

“You should know better than this,” Bruce began, “pranks are strictly forbidden in the cave, as you very well know. And in addition, I taught you better at framing than this. You choose a victim that could actually be considered as a suspect. Trying to pin the blame on Duke was your undoing - he would never do something like this.”

Duke cringed slightly, as the rest of the bats glanced Duke’s way. All were a mix of confusion and awe.

This … was not how this was supposed to go. No, screw that. That was an outrageous understatement. Things ‘not going according to plan’ would have been Jason randomly blaming Harper for the mess on no grounds - or maybe Bruce not bothering to check the cameras, opting instead to just ground everyone.

But blatantly ignoring evidence and then lecturing someone completely unrelated? No, this was too much. It couldn’t be real. This was some kind of scare-tactic wasn’t it? Duke was too much of an adrenaline junkie to be bothered by the usual ‘hanging upside down over a busy road’ schtick.

But then Bruce moves on to possible culprits Tim could have chosen instead - did he seriously think that Ra’s Al Ghul would Rick Roll them?! - and Duke lost hope.

“Uhh, Bruce?” Duke asked after the ten minute mark.

The Dark Knight turned and faced Duke.

Duke scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think I could head out for patrol now? It’s getting light out, and since you’ve clearly got this covered… I thought I could scoot out?”

Bruce was nodding before the end of Duke’s request. “Yes, go. I’ll deal with Tim. You don’t need to worry - you won’t be blamed. It clearly wasn’t your fault.”

Duke nodded slowly, and covered his disappointment with a small smirk. “Thanks, B.”

He jogged over to the edge of the platform and dropped down beside his Signal-Cycle. A routine mounting, a quick putting on of his helmet, and he was off.

Duke was scowling as he left, wondering what on earth had gone wrong.

*****

“Did you see that smirk?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Did he blame Tim on purpose?”

“How, though? To make such a tactical move -”

“It would have taken a shit ton of planning.”

“Can we get back on the fact that Bruce was fooled?”

“Or who fooled him?!”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #fanfiction #my fanfiction #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #harper row #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batfamily

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moonsaes · 4 years

Text

Take Care

pairing: choi seungcheol x fem reader

genre: royal!au, fluff, smut

warnings: oral sex, penetrative sex, dirty (but kinda sweet??) talk, creampie

word count: 6k

summary: as king, seungcheol often forgets to take care of himself. your job is to remind him.

note: this has been my baby for the past 2 months, and now she’s finally ready!! this is also the longest piece i’ve ever written, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!! all my hugs to @127vevo for looking over it.

Your nails are red again, raw and cracked from the counsel that saw too much dispute and too little compromise. Ryujin always reprimanded you for the habit, the steady cluck of her tongue stopping only to order you to dip your hands into the medicinal bowl. She would nearly faint if she saw the current state of your fingers—you’re grateful you let her retire early tonight.

The bath would normally be drawn by the time your foot crosses the meeting room’s threshold. Tonight, the basin sits empty, polished and shining in the dim candlelight. You’re not sure why the girls insist on polishing the wood for it to only get wet again, but they press forward every morning with quick feet and low bows, so you let them.

The bin hanging on the hook to your far right looks as if it can fill the basin in five turns, four if you’re lucky enough not to spill on the way back. You don’t mind walking to the well; it’s a path you rarely have the opportunity to walk alone, so the quiet may do you some good. Maybe you can steal a sweet pancake from the kitchen on your way back—one for Cheol when he returns tonight.

Your fingers tighten on the handle at the thought of him. It’s not often he’s away for so long, but when he is, you’re too aware of how bare the kingdom feels. He had been the first to jump at the prospect of visiting the bordering villages after reports of outside raids, the humanitarian in him bursting out the moment Councilman Lee had read the beginning sentences. His fervor could be misinterpreted as inexperience to some—a young king eager to carve his legacy deep—but you know better. You know the responsibility he’s taken to the very core of him, the duty he lives by to serve those around him. It’s noble, the way he leads for others, far more noble than you had seen from anyone in the court. But it’s also the heaviest burden one could place on oneself. Cheol never reveals it, but as his other half, you can sense it. The long days and even longer nights, finger rubbed to a hard callus from his quill—he loses himself. And it hurts you far more than you could’ve anticipated.

The nearby call of a loon pulls you from your thoughts. Your feet must’ve taken you down the pebbled path to the mouth of the hot spring. It doesn’t come as a surprise, with how the route is well worn in your mind after years of travel, but you hadn’t realized how long your mind had wandered for.

You squat and dip your fingers in the water, a pleasant warmth in the night chill. It teases at the future of a basin full and steaming, ready to knead at the tension living in your body. Your fingers inch toward the bin at the thought, and it’s not until you’re raising the filled bin to your head with wobbly arms and aching back that you realize how greatly you need this bath.

Six minutes at an otherwise leisurely place is pushing ten with the nearly overflowing bin perched on your head. You didn’t account for the steady decline down to the spring, but the uneven rocks that line the path up are catching under your feet now. Every groove and ridge is impressed onto the soles of your feet—your shoes are much too old and worn—and it’s only after several stumbles and a few near accidents that the ground beneath you turns to the fine dirt of the garden walkway.

It’s inevitable that your feet will bear some marks of the journey; you’ve always bruised easily, much to the girls’ dismay. But now you have an excuse to keep Cheol busy outside of the council room, occupied with rubbing your feet as your husband instead of the king.

You follow the short path through the firs before you reach the steps to your living chambers. With careful slides, you kick your shoes off at the base of the steps, paying particular attention to the full bucket on your head. You’ll have to remember to get the thicker-soled boots from the side closet before heading back out. Maybe the lynx coat too, to set out for a dusting. It won’t be long until you’ll need it, from the way the air feels.

With cautious steps, you shuffle down the hallway, turning the first corner and continuing down the stretch toward the bedroom. One of the screen doors is crooked, what looks like a jam along the cracks. It’s something that happens when you’re preoccupied and forget how gently you have to maneuver the doors. And though it’s been a long day, you don’t remember leaving for water with the door open.

It only takes a well-aimed kick at the base for the screen to lurch back into its tracks. You slide the door just wide enough so the width of the bin can fit through, making it a couple steps before your eyes land on a body sprawled on the bed. Your mouth opens, ready to signal the guards, but a small sigh stops you. You can recognize that sound from across the palace.

“Cheol,” you breathe, a smile breaking across your lips.

He sits up at your voice, a little slower than usual. This trip must’ve been hard on him. He gives no indication of such however, getting up and walking toward you with a wide grin.

“My love,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, and you’re once again reminded of how his touch stabilizes you. Your body warms as his eyes trace over you, landing on a drop trickling down the slope of your nose. He notices at the same time you remember the wooden bin perched on your head, but his hands beat yours in lowering it to the ground.

Only with the weight from your head gone do you realize the tension creeping up from your shoulders. Like a bow pulled taut, the muscles breathe with the sudden relief, and you tilt your head forward to massage at the back of your neck, a stray droplet tracing down the slope of your nose at the movement.

He leans close to catch the water at the tip of your nose with his lips. With him so close, you can smell the heady hints of sandalwood, light with the hours of rain and travel. It’s become habit to tuck yourself into the crook of his neck, and when you press forward to settle in the familiar spot, you feel the soft roll of laughter rumble through him.

His lips rest on your temple before traveling to your hair. “Go get ready. I’ll get the rest of the water.” He’s gone with the bin before you can object, leaving you to undress. It’s late enough in the season that the cold has started to creep in through the cracks. Your skin pimples when you slide the jeogori off your shoulders, and you rush to step out of your skirt and underclothes to get to the warm haven of the bathroom. Now fully bare, you can feel the autumn chill as deep as your bones, and you wonder if Cheol is cold from all the travelling. You’ll have to check his toes when he returns.

There’s already a pleasant steam hanging in the air from the first binful of water when you enter the bathroom. Looking into the basin, it’s barely enough to cover your legs, your hips if you try hard enough, but you step in to sit anyway. You’re right—it laps only halfway up your thigh, but the warmth is such a friendly welcome to your worn muscles that it makes no difference.

The heat must’ve lulled you into a drowse because a small thud has you blinking your eyes open to Cheol, kneeling by the foot of the basin. He looks up when you shift in the water.

“You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you up,” he says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“So you were just watching me? Should’ve called the guards,” you tease. But you can’t resist kissing the inside of his wrist.

He flicks your nose with a playful huff before standing up and reaching for the bin next to him, a bigger one he must’ve found along the way. He rests it on the side of the basin, and with your nod, he tips it over to add to the water pooling at your legs.

“Oh,” you sigh as the water creeps higher up your body. The level now rests right below your breasts, high enough that you can bend your legs and sink down to your chin.

“Nice?”

You hum, letting your eyes drift to where he’s standing. His eyelashes cast shadows under his eyes in the dim light, and you wish you could trace them, kiss them until there’s no hint of them left.

“Join me.” You raise your arms from the water to stretch them towards him. “I miss you.”

He smiles and bends to set the bin down. “Well, we can’t have that my lady.”

He’s quick to shuck off his undershirt and pants, turning to place them on the side table. You take the quiet moment to look over his shoulders, waist, thighs—bends and crooks of his you’ve been able to imprint into your memory with an unusual ease. The thought of being able to feel him again after so many weeks makes your toes curl.

“Come here.”

He carefully fits himself in the space that you’ve made, mumbling something incoherent when he stretches his legs alongside yours and leans back against the basin. You follow suit, pushing back onto his chest until you can feel his arms dip below the water and wrap around your waist.

“Have baths always felt this good?” His lips trace at the shell of your ear, travelling down to give your lobe a quick suck.

“Mmmm,” you breathe, tilting your neck to give access to his wandering lips. “Only with you.”

You stay like this, quiet except for the occasional ripple of water. It’s as close to a sanctuary you think you may get with the looming thought of meetings and scrolls, but you push that to the far corner of your mind, running your hands down Cheol’s thighs to his knees.

“Long day?” he asks, gathering the pieces of hair that have fallen from your clip and slipping them through the teeth.

You can’t help the small snort you let out. “The absolute longest,” you say, skimming the surface of the water with gently pruning fingers, “it never fails to surprise me how stubborn old councilmen are.”

“Hey,” he murmurs into your skin, “that’s going to be me someday.”

“You’re more handsome.”

His hand finds yours to bring to his lips. You can feel the curve of his mouth against your palm, and the feeling makes you settle closer into the breadth of his chest. The water laps gently around your knees as you lean back, little kisses of warmth to exposed skin.

Cheol must see the beginnings of gooseflesh because he lifts an arm to place his hand over your knee. The action makes you smile—he never liked seeing you cold, even when there’s nothing but a comfortable glow all throughout you.

Your hand pulls from his grasp to rub up and down his now-exposed arm. He’s relentless in his quest to keep you warm, but you’re also aware of how his toes curl towards your calves whenever a morning snow hits. “Do you want to talk about your trip?” you ask, massaging his bicep.

He sighs softly enough that you wouldn’t have known if not for the stuttered fall of his chest. You press deeper into his arms, as if you can push every bit of strain out of him.

“Not tonight. Tomorrow?” A small squeeze on your thigh serves as a tacit appeal for no questions, not tonight. It’s late anyway, nearly midnight if you’re thinking correctly, so you nod your head in agreement. Whatever can wait until the morning.

Lips fall to the base of your neck, following the drying droplets to trace down the length of your shoulder blade. It’s a silent thank you for the reprieve he most likely didn’t get from the villagers, the advisors. It’s a silent thank you for being his sanctuary—he’s told you as much—even though you’re a mere attempt for what he is for you. You still try anyway.

One hand grabbing his, the other gripping the edge of the basin, you stand up, grimacing at the rush of cold air. Cheol is still sitting down, eyebrows raised.

“It’s not hair washing day?” he questions.

“Mmmm, did it the other night,” you respond, letting your eyes wander over his chest. “Come out. I’m getting cold.”

He stands, careful not to splash any water over the side. You bear down onto your right hand to give him stability as he steps out, his wet feet joining yours to make a small puddle on the floor.

“We’ll wipe it up later,” he promises. You’re not one to argue when he’s wet and naked, so you nod and lead him out toward the bedroom.

The chill sweeps over you nearly instantaneously, and you can barely contain the shiver that cascades through you. “Cheol, it’s c—”

His hand leaves yours to cup at your hip. He taps twice, a signal you’re more than familiar with, for you to turn around. You take a look at the sly smile on his face before looping your arms around his neck and jumping. He catches you with a practiced ease, though he stumbles a bit from your added weight onto his slippery feet.

“Easy. I’m trying to get both of us onto the bed alive.” His words are stern, but the beginnings of a laugh are pushing through his lips, pulling one from your own.

You cling on tighter to tuck your head into the notch of his neck. “Just get there quickly so you can warm me up.”

He squeezes your thigh in acknowledgement and walks the last steps to your bed. You’ve begun to pepper kisses around the base of his neck, your eyes nearly shutting on their own accord at the feel of his steadily hardening cock between the inside of your legs. It reminds you that you haven’t had him for weeks, but even after all that time, your body responds as if he had never left.

You raise your head when his feet stop at the foot of the bed. “Don’t want to let go,” you say, your lips brushing against his own. His teeth catch your bottom lip for a gentle pull.

“Who says you have to let go?” He sucks your lip with a smile before you feel one of his hands hike your hips further up his, the other moving to brace the back of your neck. The movements are quick, and you only just process the change before he’s leaning forward to guide you down onto the bed. It squeaks in protest at the sudden weight of you two, retaliating with a small crack somewhere towards the center of the headboard.

A few moments of wide eyes pass before laughter peals out, catching in each others’ mouths.

“That’s been there for the last century and we managed to break it in two years,” he giggles, tickling the traces of your lips.

“You managed to break it,” you correct with a poke to his side. “I didn’t steal extra of Mrs. Jung’s dumplings today, so it couldn’t have been me.”

He leans back to fix you with a discerning look. “Hmmmm,” he muses, eyes roaming from across your face, lingering a little longer at your lips. “Whatever you say, my lady.”

You lace your fingers in his hair to tug him back to your mouth. “Exactly what I like to hear. Besides, they were all gone when I passed by the oh—” you groan at the sudden thought. The sweet pancake.

“The sweet pancake!” You pinch the inner corners of your eyes. “I was going to get a sweet pancake on my way back from the spring! I know for a fact that General Yoo doesn’t let you stop at that bun stand in Seorabeol, so you must be so hungry. I can’t believe I forgot, and—and you’re laughing?”

When you blink open, you see that he is.

His fingers rub the space between your brows until the wrinkle disappears. “You look very concerned,” he laughs, shifting up to place a kiss where his fingers were. “And I do love those sweet pancakes, but General Yoo broke off with half the men to do evaluations in Ungjin, so I was left with Commander Pyo, who you know loves those buns as much as I do.”

You wrap your arms around his middle with a relieved sigh. “So you’re not hungry?” you ask. “And you’re not going to have to leave bed?”

“Definitely not going to leave bed,” he confirms, repositioning your legs to bring your core even closer to him. “As for whether I’m hungry or not,” a swipe of his tongue across the seam of your lips makes you let out an impatient whine, “haven’t tasted you in far too long.”

His mouth sears a trail down your neck and across your collarbones before you can kiss him, can poke fun at the sudden forwardness that still somehow makes your fingertips itch for him. All you can do is gasp and let him suckle at your nipple. His tongue is a welcomed heat on your skin, and you can feel it prickle with every swipe.

He grounds himself to move downward by holding your sides, a sight that in it of itself makes you shiver. You can always feel the roughness of hands—have essentially memorized how every ridge and callous move on you—but seeing them, large and reverent in their handling, makes you want to do everything in your power to keep them there. He’ll always take care of you. His eyes say it first, and his body never fails to assure it.

But you need him to feel the same unwavering devotion. Even when he’s gone and especially when he’s not. He never asks, never will, but there’s no one more deserving of something so unconditional.

“Cheol,” you murmur, while he kisses over the soft spot on your stomach. “Stop.” You tug gently at his hair.

His lips pull away, and his eyes are on you. “Everything okay, love?”

“Yes, of course,” you assure with a small nod. “I just—I want to take care of you.”

“You want to take care of me?” he asks with furrowed brows. His hands are still heavy at your sides, and you reach down to grasp at his wrists. He lets you guide him onto his back, lets you straddle his hips and hover yourself over where you need him most.

He’s looking at you through half-lidded eyes as you bring yourself onto his cock, using your anchored hands to slide him back and forth between your lips. You’re already wet—have been since the moment he carried you to the bed—so he slips through with an easy slick. The head of his cock kisses your clit on one rock of your hips, sending a tingle through your core that makes you bow your head. He groans too, responding with a buck that shifts you higher up his pelvis.

“Love,” he sighs before pressing forward to kiss your lips. When he speaks again, he does so softly. “Let me taste you.”

“Mmmm,” you mumble, trying to temper your voice from whining. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you remember?” You squeeze his wrists in reminder, though you know he could easily break free.

He smiles at the same thought. “I remember, but—” he wriggles his hands from your grasp to settle at your hips. “I think the best way for you to take care of me—” he lets out a small hiss when he lifts you off him, guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him. You lick your lips at the sight of his heavy cock straining against his stomach, but you’re cut off by a swift tug that pulls you back.

“Is to give me what I want.” The last few words are hummed against your skin as his lips trace the inside of your thighs. He’s taking his time nipping around the soft skin, tending to each mark with a soothing hum. Every movement is slow, purposeful, too much so for your growing impatience. You reach to run a light finger over a vein on his cock in hopes of provoking him, but he only tightens his hold on your legs. Even with you closer to his mouth, he’s still lingering around where you need him the most.

“Cheol,” you whine, pushing your hips back. “Don’t tease.”

He licks a quick stripe up the length of your lips, making you gasp and buck your hips back. His mouth is gone too soon, leaving only his hands to anchor you from seeking his tongue again.

“What I want, remember?”

“Fuck.”

It sounds like a promise he would make when he’s feeling indulgent, with no other goal than to get you begging. So it comes unexpected when he pulls your body down at the same time his neck cranes up. His mouth lands hot on your center, tongue pushing through to lick at your core. You blink your eyes close with a moan as his attention moves to your clit, his tongue landing quick flicks on it. The pressure’s delicious, a burning heat that makes your toes curl into the sheets. You feel as if you can cave in on yourself and still remember the imprints of his mouth. It’s so generous—the way this bliss always consumes you—that you don’t realize that his hips are moving in tandem to yours, have been for some time.

His cock is somehow even harder than before, following the path of his hips with a heaviness that makes your mouth water. You know tonight is for him, but you also think you won’t make it to see to his pleasure if you don’t feel him on your tongue.

And you can’t help the pride that streaks straight from your core to your heart when he groans at the welcome of your mouth. You start off slow—kitten licks across his slit to hear more of his muffled sounds until you wrap your lips around his head. He sucks your clit in response, thrumming over your bud with an insistent tongue when you begin to guide him further to the back of your mouth.

You begin a slow bob up and down, easing your mouth further down him each time. Your hand works his base, twisting up the smooth skin with help from the wetness dribbling from your mouth. He’s thick enough that you can’t wrap your palm completely around him, but you try anyway, eager to not leave any part of his cock untouched.

He breathes it into your thigh, where you can already feel slick smearing. “You taste so good, love. Love when you let me taste you like this. Want you just like this when you come.”

All you can do is moan around his cock and hope he can taste how wet you are. You ease your mouth off to catch your breath, your hand replacing it to set a steady rhythm up and down his cock. It’s a comfortable pace with the wetness from your mouth, and for a few moments it’s just this—the sound of your hand and his tongue warming the room.

Your whine breaks the tempo at the feel of his fingers joining his tongue before slipping into your core. He enters easily with two fingers, pulling a quiet squelch when he’s up to his knuckles. His fingers aren’t moving, waiting for you to adjust to the fullness, but you need him to move. Need him to curl his fingers and sink back and forth into you so some of the tension in your lower stomach can be relieved. He’s taking his time however, pulling out until he’s mid-knuckle and pushing back in as if trying to gauge how much you can take.

You fit his cock back into your mouth in hopes of encouraging him to move. He must get the hint the moment he hits the back of your throat because he pushes both fingers into you with a groan and begins a punishing pace. If his other hand weren’t still secured on your hip, you would’ve squirmed away from how he’s hitting that one spot with practiced expertise. With the way your thighs are beginning to shake, you don’t know how much longer you can handle before you buckle under his fingers and tongue.

You pull off his cock to release the whine that’s pushing past your lips. “Cheol, too—too much,” you moan. It is too much—his fingers fucking into you as if his tongue weren’t already undoing you from the core. Your forehead lolls to rest on his thigh, your hand around his base nearly forgotten because you’re so close. Just the sounds of his wet sucks on your clit could have you coming with a cry. They make you greedy, make you want to bury his face deeper into your core until he can’t remember anything but the taste of your slick on his lips.

His mouth leaves your heat at your words, though his fingers maintain their steady thrusts in and out. “Too much?” he says, words muffled by your thighs. “Want me to stop?”

“No—I.” Your hips push down to find his mouth again. When he flicks at your clit, you mumble into his skin. “Just want you to make me come. Need you to.”

His hips jerk at your voice—a seemingly unspoken acknowledgement to your request by the way he adds a third finger into your pussy with a squelch. You feel full, as if you’ll always have a reminder of him in the pits of your lower stomach, and it makes you drunk to imagine what his cock will feel like. Stretching you somehow more than his fingers, dragging out of you until you can see what a mess you’ve made on him. Your hand tightens around his cock at the thought.

He groans when he feels your pussy mirroring your hand, clenching around his fingers. “I got you. You can come for me.”

You mewl at his words, moving your hips in time to his thrusting fingers. He curls them to a new angle that makes you drop your head to his leg again, and when he meets the spot with a suck of your clit, the bubble in your lower stomach bursts into hot white. Your legs give out beneath you just as his fingers pull out for support. With his hands keeping you stable, you tremble against his tongue for several thuds of your heartbeat, until you can lift yourself upright onto your forearms.

You know he’ll keep you like this, wave after wave of pleasure thrumming through you until you can’t distinguish the beginning of him and end of you. So you untangle yourself from him as quickly as your sluggish limbs will allow. You turn to face him, not quite letting yourself press into his pelvis.

“Good?” he asks, cheeks flushed and lips wet. Even after all these years, you’ll never quite get over the vision of Cheol stained with love.

You can’t resist leaning down and kissing his cheek, which warms underneath your lips.

“More than good. Always my favorite.” Your hand brushes a strand of hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “Want to make you come though.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle at your words. “Want to make you come again though.”

You shoot him a warning glance. “I’m taking care of you, remember?” you say, raising onto your knees and placing your hands onto the planes of his chest. The skin’s smooth and taut, and when you run your palm over the left side, you can feel the unmistakable beat of his heart—a stamp you hope will never fade from your memory.

“As if I can forget,” he replies with a smile. “Not every day the queen takes care of you.”

His hands squeeze your waist to signal he’s ready, so you still your roaming hands. There are still traces of your orgasm on your thighs, along with pinkened reminders of where his lips travelled. You know the moment you tuck him between you, you’ll be even more sensitive, your pussy snug around the part of him you’ve missed so much. So you lower onto his cock with care, gaze locked on how he disappears beneath your hair. A quick glance at his face shows that he’s focused on where you’re joined as well. His teeth are worrying his bottom lip as you sink down, welcoming him with a slow slide. There’s a soft squelch when you near his base, and you can see wetness already gathering by his curls.

“Cheol,” you let out a shaky breath as he bottoms out. He’s deep, deeper than you remember him being, but it’s been a few weeks since he’s filled you like this. You lean into your hands to lift yourself up, but his hands grip your thighs before you can shift.

His lips are parted enough so you can hear his sharp exhales. “Love,” he says, cutting off when you lean forward to place your forearms on either side of his head. A low grumble vibrates through his chest, and you can’t resist dropping a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You have to stay still for a little or I’m going to come.” He grits his teeth when you settle your hips further back, somehow taking even more of him.

A warning flashes in his eyes, stopping your movements. “Okay, okay,” you whisper, the traces of a smile forming on your lips. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

You hide your grin by taking his mouth, pushing your tongue in to try to distract yourself from the fullness you feel. His lips are giving, letting your mouth take the lead to nip and sip. He tastes like you, something that makes your center flutter. You wonder if he tastes himself on you, if he likes it too.

He kisses you for a few more moments, momentarily diverting your attention from the ache in your core. The gentle bite that lands on your bottom lip however, makes your hips twitch forward. It’s a small motion, but the way his cock shifts in you has you moving one hand down to grip at his bicep.

“Please tell me I can move soon,” you mumble with a squeeze to his arm.

Cheol’s mouth moves to trace over your cheek, toward your ear. “Yeah, yeah,” he breathes, tickling the hairs on your neck. “Move, baby.”

You place a kiss on his jaw before bracing your hands on his chest to lift up. His hands are stroking around your hips, digging into the little notches for a better hold. He’s not guiding you so much as grounding you, making sure that every sink of your hips has you meeting his curls.

There’s nothing rushed about the first moments he’s in you. It’s not until his hands begin to wander, or the ache between your legs begins to throb, that your pace starts hardening. In the nascent bits though, you’re relearning how his body fits in yours. So you take your time raising yourself until only his tip remains in you, and sliding down slowly enough to watch your wetness trail down with you.

He doesn’t demand more from you than this gradual pace, but you can sense his growing sense of urgency by his hands. Once again, they begin their journey of the terrain of your skin, leaving a searing trail in their path. Up the smooth of your stomach, over the swell of your breasts to tease at your nipples, up the length of your collarbone to the base of your neck. It makes it difficult to concentrate on him, when there’s so much of his focus on you.

Intent on his pleasure, as well as soothing your burning thighs, you brace your hands on his stomach and push your hips forward instead of up. You feel his body cave in in surprise at the sudden change, your body now grinding against his with a purpose.

“L—love, so good,” he groans. “Feel so good when you’re like thi—.” He cuts off with a moan when you squeeze yourself around him.

“Yeah?” you breathe, arching into him with a moan when your clit bumps against the base of his cock. You grind back to press forward again, chasing after the familiar tingle up your spine. Back and forth you rock, the slick leaking down between your thighs and onto Cheol’s skin fueling you to keep going despite your protesting legs. “Think you can come like this?”

“Y—yes,” he gasps, trailing his hands back down to your hips to help you move against him. The added strength of his hands angles your clit to rub against him.

You’re struggling for breath, trying to stay upright by planting your palms against his chest, but the sight of him beneath you with eyes glossy is almost too much to bear. You can easily come just like this, have every urge to with the building pressure in your core.

He can too. From the little dent that’s formed between his brows to his stuttering thighs, he’s nearly there too. It’s a chase for his orgasm that you will never be able to deprive him as long as you’re the one who can guide him to it.

So you push your own wave down and focus on having him come undone within you. You slow your hips just enough to lean over and rest your forearms by his face. Your pace quickens again to one almost punishing, the resounding thud of skin ringing through the air.

When you bend to kiss him, it’s gentle in comparison. Just a ghosting of lips, but it feels far more intimate.

“Come for me, baby,” you say against his lips, feeling how his breath hitches in his throat. “I want to feel all of you.”

He breathes in response, tongue poking out to taste your lips. You purse your lips and suck at the tip while you push back with one last thrust, deeper than the rest, and he comes with a cry. A sticky warmth fills you up as you continue moving on him, hoping you can take everything he can give in the moment. His thumb makes its way to your clit and rubs in tight circles, persistent until you feel yourself quiver around him. You come with his thumb asking more from you, and you have to pull his hand away once you begin to feel too sensitive.

Your head hangs forward while you catch your breath. His cum always makes you feel dizzyingly full, and that paired with the flutters still radiating through your body, you’re relieved when he helps you off his cock. You don’t realize how heavy your limbs are until you topple over trying to swing your leg over his side.

“You’re going to kill me one day,” he laughs, bringing you into his arms so he can kiss your temple. His skin, as well as yours, is slippery with a sheen of sweat, and his cum has started to drip down the inside of your thigh.

You throw an arm over his torso to pinch his side. “As long as it’s a good death,” you muse, smiling into his chest when he slaps at your hand. “Feel good though?”

“Mmmmm. Thank you for always taking care of me.” He places a kiss on your forehead. “Makes me want to take care.”

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secret-rendezvous1d · 4 years

Note

Blogmas having the miss announcing she is pregnant on christmas to P and H?

Hello, hi!

Welcome to Blogmas 2020.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha.

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

DECEMBER, 2022.

YN was no stranger to a positive pregnancy test.

If you told her six years ago that she’d be a mother to a little girl the following year, who was the spitting image of her father, then she’d have told you that you were taking the piss and that they were dreaming all kinds of madness. So, if you told her three days ago that she’d be a mother to a second baby, she’d have laughed in your face and told you to jog on because “one’s enough for me right now.”

Of course, she’d grown up wanting more than one child to teach life skills and nurture and mould into such a beautiful young thing who cared and loved like there was no such thing as tomorrow. She’d been an only child herself and found life to be rather… different. Especially to her friends in school who were children of many in their families. Of course, YN had cousins and she saw them whenever she wanted (moreso on festive holidays and family birthdays rather than her parents appearing on their doorstep for a cup of tea and an offer for the kids to play in the garden until dark) but it never amounted to the same feeling as seeing a sibling on a daily basis, after school or in the morning, someone to wind up and irritate out of love but someone to trust when something came up that she didn’t want her parents knowing.

So when Persephone was born, freshly cleaned and m minutes old and laying her father’s arms in the most pinkest blanket found in her hospital bag, YN deemed it necessary to silently promise to never let her experience a childhood alone. Not that she thought it was a bad thing to be an only child; heck, she was thankful she never had the bickering brother to deal with that only fought for those he loved or the snotty older sister who told her what to do and not to do with her life but loved her all the same. She felt envious of Harry when she was introduced to his older sister but soon felt that Gemma was an older sister of her own flesh and blood with how welcoming she’d been and seeing the brother-sister bond that Harry had, she found it was only necessary to let her own child have that exciting life growing up.

“You’re not eating much this morning,” Harry said softly, inhaling the smell of honey porridge before wrapping his lips around the spoon in his hand and swallowing the thick textured substance. Eyes focused on his wife as sat in her own world, stirring her tea in her china mug, an ashen look on her face - because morning sickness had been a bigger bitch to her the second time than the first time and she wasn’t expecting it to be as bad- as she hid behind a smile. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I think I’m a little stressed out. I have too much to do this coming week and too little time to do it and I feel so rushed,” she murmured, setting her teaspoon upon the plate that did hold her dry toast before Harry came and joined her for breakfast, fingers curling around the handle of her mug. “I might have to cancel lunch with your mum this afternoon. I need to start wrapping, decorating, planning Christmas day, getting the food in.”

“You’re looking a little sick, I’m sure she won’t mind if you want to cancel.”

“She was so excited though.”

“She’d feel even better if you took some time out for yourself and felt better. Besides, she’s coming next week with Gem and Michal for Christmas dinner so she’s got that to look forward to,” Harry said, plunging his spoon into his porridge before taking another bite and swallowing it, honey sticking to his pink lips, “what can I do to make you feel less stressed? Give me something to do.”

“You could go and pick Seff’s main present up from that toy shop on Oxford Street for me. I got an email saying it arrived yesterday morning so we just need to go and get it. I can wrap the last of her presents up whilst you’re gone and hide yours somewhere where you don’t go snooping,” she stated, cocking an eyebrow up on her browline and staring at him over the rim of her white mug, “like you did last year.”

“In my defence, you did ask me to go and get a pair of knickers from your drawer after your bath.”

Harry had always been one to go snooping when it came to gifts. Anne had told her that the first Christmas she spent with Harry during a conversation that spiked up when YN pulled Anne aside to ask her for tips on what to get him, whether he'd asked for anything specific and whether he was allergic to anything specific that would give her gift idea away if she asked him. And it stuck in the back of her mind every year.

Although, in his defense, he didn’t necessarily go snooping through her underwear drawer to find what she had brought for him, given the fact that she had a brainfart and had forgotten where she hid his most expensive gift for that year; a six-hundred pound watch that she’d seen him eyeing up in the shop window of Gucci every time they wandered passed. She knew he’d reach into the drawer, grab his favourite pair (that she always placed at the front of her pants) and chuck them into the bathroom with a joke that hinted to a little bedroom action when Persephone was in bed.

“You didn’t have to get a pair from the back end of my drawer. Since when do you reach for my period pants when I put all my nice, lacy ones at the front?” She huffed, rolling her eyes as she took a sip of the warm tea and felt it slide down her sore throat, goosebumps rising on her skin because there was a sense of warmth yet a sense of burning; acid reflux had become a bitch, too, and she was looking forward to sending him to the supermarket pharmacy, late at night, to grab a bottle of Gaviscon and heartburn tablets. “Plus, it was in a box with my name on it, sellotaped up on both ends, and put left in the box it came in. You had to open the box to find out what was inside the other box.”

“It fell out?” He shrugged sheepishly and sent her a cheeky smile. Tight-lipped, regardless of how sticky his lips were, and showing off his dimples in the middle of his cheeks. But YN was having none of it and she made sure her face told him that, her fingers tapping her mug. “Okay, fine. Curiosity got the better of me when I found it and I peeked. I promise I won’t this time though. The silent treatment you gave me on Christmas day was horrible.”

“You deserved it. I was excited to surprise you with it and you ruined it.”

“I know.”

The kitchen fell into a comfortable silence and all they could hear, coming from upstairs, was the bathroom tap running as Persephone brushed her teeth and got herself ready before school. Her uniform folded up and placed on her desk, like every morning, right next to the hairbrush that YN used to tie her hair into whatever kind of hairstyle she fancied for the day; today, it was plaits… thankfully, because YN really didn’t want to go through the hassle of doing space buns again. Her school bag and her lunch box were hanging off the back of the chair at the head of the table, homework left in her red folder on the table so she could double check her name was written on it before slotting it into her bag, shiny black shoes with a buckle left in the living room where she’d kicked them off yesterday. Coat hanging on the hook in the entryway, where she could reach for it on her way out before clambering into Harry’s Range Rover so he could drive her to school; her favourite mode of transport, she made sure to tell him every night.

“Can you get it by lunchtime today? So I can wrap it before she comes home from school. Otherwise she’ll see it and want it as soon as possible and this is probably the best one of the lot. And we know she follows in her father’s footsteps,” YN smirked, nudging her toe into his shin, “aren’t I right?”

“Like father, like daughter.”

The problem with wrapping presents was the backache.

Chronic backache experienced after an hour of being hunched over on the living room floor, sat cross-legged and leaning against the sofa, surrounded by rolled up balls of sellotape that got stuck to itself and useless pieces of wrapping paper that had no purpose on a present because it was too small or too wonkily cut. Bags upon bags full of Christmas presents, all named for family and friends, that she needed Harry to deliver before Christmas eve.

By the time she’d reached the bottom step, after her fourth trip up the stairs to take the newly wrapped presents into her office (locked to save the wandering eyes and the curious toes of her little girl finding them in the corner of her home-office), her husband had arrived home with an excitable Persephone and a guilty look upon his face as he shrugged his coat off and unwrapped his scarf from around his neck. His nose pink, Persephone’s cheeks red, but both their jumpers decorated with crumbs from what she could only imagine came from a cake in their favourite local bakery down the road.

“Mummy! Mummy, daddy took me for a cake afterschool today. I had a chocolate one with sprinkles and a flake and it tasted like an orange and-”

Harry’s eyes widened and he looked to his wife, who had a knowing grin on her face, and he knew he’d been busted from the moment he walked through the door.

“Seff, you promised me you weren’t going to blab to mummy. That was our secret, little lady,” he chuckled softly, cupping the back of her head with his palm, fingertips cold against her scalp, “mummy wasn’t supposed to know.”

“But it was really good and I wanted to tell mummy about it because she can get one when she goes out shopping with auntie Gem and they can taste it and tell me it was yummy,” Persephone grinned, the gap between her two front teeth starting to fill in with a brand-new adult tooth, all pearly white and jagged, “mummy can buy me another one and herself one and auntie Gem one and we can share them together.”

“Did you bring me anything back?”

Her gloved hands dug around her school bag, school shoes long forgotten by the front door and kicked off haphazardly, her scarf hanging round her shoulders and her hand tucked into Harry’s fist because, YN could only guess, she didn’t want to mess up the plaits still perfectly done up. A rustle of wrapping coming from the flat of her pocket, bringing out a carefully wrapped gingerbread man with a purple ribbon tying it together at the top, a bobble stuck to the top as some kind of festive decoration.

“I brought you a gingerbread man, mummy! With the money Nana gave me in my Christmas card,” she thrust her hand towards her mother and passed it to her; YN was sure the money her own mother had given to her was for something she could use herself but she was thankful, of course, entirely grateful that she’d chosen to share her money to get her something.

“Thank you, baby. We’ll share it for pudding after dinner later, yeah? With some strawberries.”

“Yeah and some chocolate sauce!”

And with that, she ran off into the living room and found a comfy space on the sofa to watch whatever YN had left on the television, leaving her mother and father to tidy the mess left behind in the entryway.

“Maybe a little sauce,” YN said as she reached for the coat on the floor, hanging it on the hook beneath her’s and Harry’s, hanging her scarf over the top and leaving her gloves on the radiator to warm up, “you’ve had some chocolate already today.”

Harry grinned and pressed a kiss to his wife’s forehead, squeezing her arm before sneaking passed her and into the living room, bending over the sofa to look at his daughter from an upside-down position, “come on you, let’s go do your homework at the table.”

“Actually,” YN blurted suddenly, standing in the archway before them, smiling softly at them as they looked at her, “before you do that, can I tell you something? Well, not tell you something. Show you something. I want to give you both an early Christmas present, I guess.”

Persephone perked up and pushed herself to her knees, an excitable grin on her already excitable face as she looked between her mum and dad, a confused look spread across Harry’s features.

“What is it?”

YN disappeared for a second, footsteps heard going up the stairs and a creak heard from a bedroom being opened - and if Harry was right then it was the spare room, because he’d promised to fix the squeaking door but had yet to get round to it, where nowhere really went into because it was empty and desolate and had no decor in it yet. There was a sound of some rustling, faint but still audible if you listened closely, the creak heard again before footsteps were heard descending the stairs, a deep breath escaping her mouth before she turned the corner. A white box tucked under her arm.

“Mummy, what’s in the box?”

“I’ll let daddy open it but sit together to open it because it’s for the both of you and I can’t wait till next week to give it to you,” she stepped across the carpet and passed it over, letting him get a good feel of how heavy it was before he sauntered around the sofa and sat on the sofa beside his daughter. Her hand coming across to touch and stroke the white box, looking at it with furrowed eyebrows, waiting for her father to open the flaps and pull whatever was inside out for them to look at.

Harry’s fingers timidly opened the box, sellotape coming undone as he pulled the contents out and set them upon the top; a white babygrow, a white hat and matching mittens and a sonogram of the ultrasound she had during her doctor’s visit. Biting her bottom lip, she couldn’t help but feel the pit of her stomach drop; unexpected or not, they were expecting a baby and she couldn’t have been more excited - she just hoped his silence meant he felt the same.

“So, what do you think?”

A gasp left his mouth.

“What- does this explain why you’ve been so ill?” He stood to his feet and left the contents behind, stepping around the sofa to grab her into a hug and squeeze her against his chest. The sting of happy tears burning the corners of his eyes as he twirled the both of them around. “God, I had a hunch in the back of my head that you were pregnant but I didn’t want to say anything in case it wasn’t. Christ, you think I haven’t heard you vomiting in the bathroom in the mornings before I wake up? Not eating your usual breakfast? All the same mannerisms from the first one?”

He set YN back on the floor and cupped his forehead with his hand.

“I found out this week, Monday evening actually. I wanted to wait till Christmas day to surprise you but I was too excited and it was killing me keeping it from you. I wanted to come back and shout it at you on Monday but- well, surprise.”

“Daddy, what is it?”

They both looked at Persephone and saw her holding the black and white photograph; a scene they hadn’t ever imagined but never wanted to take for granted. Bracing his weight on his elbows, he leant on the back of the sofa and took the picture from her hands, using his pointer finger to show her just what they were so excited about. His eyes scanned the photo before he found what he was looking for, turning it back to Persephone so he could show her the right place.

“You see that little white blob there? Right here,” he spoke softly, pointing to the middle of the sonogram, waiting for her to nod before carrying on “that’s going to be your new baby brother or sister, little lady.”

Her eyes widened and she looked at him.

“Where are you getting them from? Will they be here for Christmas? Can I come with you to pick one?”

Harry chuckled and looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a tear dribbling down YN’s cheek, his own eyes threatening to flood.

“They’re in mummy’s belly right now. A little tiny dot, no bigger than your fingernail. That’ll grow, just like you did, in mummy’s belly until they’re nice and ready to come out and join us next year.”

“Why next year?”

At this point, YN had taken the space next to her husband, standing straight. She reached for her daughter’s hand, bringing it beneath her jumper and placing it on her bare tummy.

“Because they need to grow nice and strong in mummy’s belly before they can come and meet us,” YN smiled, squeezing her hand as they kept their joined hands underneath her bellybutton, “just like you did. That’s where you started, where you came from, until you came and joined us here. Growing and blossoming until they’re ready to come and see us.”

“Like a flower?”

“Yeah,” YN grinned at Harry, his arm resting over her shoulder as he pulled her into his side, squeezing her tightly to his body, “like the most delicate flower in the world. They need the space and time to grow big and strong in my belly, nice and healthy so they can come out and be a part of our family when they’re ready, and be your little brother or sister.”

“That’s great news, huh, little lady? You’re going to be a big sister.”

“The best big sister ever.”

#harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts

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artsyxloner · 4 years

Text

Not just a Monster

Warning: drinking

19: Another Infected

Ji-Soo laid on the recovery table fast asleep. She was still kinda pale but that will soon go away once she starts healing. The group managed to find antibiotics if she got an infection.

I would have given her some of my stuff but it burned up in the car explosion. I've been in here for a while, making sure nothing went wrong. Watching to see if her side was turning red, or started to swell.

It could get infected easily and-spread throughout her body if not watched or treated carefully. Soon Jae-Heon came in, I smiled. He was pretty badass for a man that worships God and is also a great swordsman.

( please note that this is not meant to offend anybody, my religion is Christianity )

He took a seat, laying down some white candles he brought with him. checking over Ji-Soo. I could tell something was going on between them but neither announced it yet. I guess in a world like this it was hard to.

" What are the candles for?" I questioned but waited as he lit them with a lighter. Clasping his hands together he bowed his head and began to Pray. Watching him, I haven't prayed in a long time.

I use to think what was the point, thinking it wouldn't do any good since I did a terrible sin. But seeing how Jae-Heon is still keeping his faith even after killing monsters it was the same difference.

Killing is killing.

If I ask for forgiveness will it help? will I finally stop feeling guilty and move on? Will I be able to forgive myself? I wish I knew what to do I was uncertain. But I closed my eyes and bowed my head.

Dear lord

I know I shouldn't be asking for your forgiveness... but please lift me of the sin I committed and if possible I could somehow forgive myself someday and in hopes, they can too. let my family Rest In Peace.

I finished reopening my eyes, I jumped a little realizing Jae-Heon was watching me. " God will forgive you Soo-Nico for whatever you've done." He reassured me, I felt my heart was weighing heavy.

I had to ask since he's was the only one that I could talk about religion. " how are you so sure?" Was he going to forgive me? For something as terrible as that? Jae-Heon had a knowing look on his face. " Because he's a merciful God,"

With that answer, I nodded, " I don't mean to pry but what were you praying about." I wanted to ask, I probably seem nosy. I saw him glance at Ji-Soo," for someone to live a long, healthy, happy life."

Now it was my turn to give some words of encouragement. " They will," it was short and simple but effective. Jae-Heon patted my shoulder. " you're a good kid, I'll watch over her. you should go eat something to build up your strength,"

he informed, me I had to laugh, now that he mentioned it I was pretty hungry. Rubbing my stomach I got up, bowing. Leaving the room, heading to go get something to eat.

His words somehow made me feel better. They were having dinner in the day-care-center walking in I had grabbed my plate sitting down beside Hye-in. I guess it was better to eat with people than being alone.

She was happily eating, away I noticed she had a white face mask on. She looked like a puffy marshmallow, it seems like they have all washed up. I needed a wash. Taking my spoon, I scooped some rice and took a bite.

" Ms. Cha, " Hye-In spoke up getting the woman's Attention, She had looked up. " I thought that you were tan but you're just really dirty." Hye-In laughed, I raised an eyebrow.

" Thanks.." Ms. Cha stared at her I couldn't believe she just said that. " I'm saying you look good now." what she didn't look better before?

" I got these masks in the mail. Want one?" Hye-in offered to pulling up her shirt, revealing a couple of packs of face masks. Well, that's one way to hide them.

" No, thanks. I know That I look pretty without it." This earned all kinds of laughs around the room. " wait, Seung-Wan needs it." Byeong-ll point making Seung-Wan clap back defensively.

I have I admit it was pretty funny, as we chatted, Sun-Young walked up to our table she seemed nervous. I wondered what about it? " I should go outside." Before I could take another bite I stopped looking up at her. What for?

" I think I'm starting to have symptoms." that's when all the attention turned towards her. It was quiet, " I should've told you sooner." Sun-Young had a long face as if she was disappointed for not telling. " I guess I didn't want to believe it. I'm sorry."

No one can blame you it's scary finding out your showing symptoms it's like your life just has been ripped away. It's hard to accept. " I just don't want to put everyone in danger. So I should go before it's too late—"

Ms. Cha, interrupted Sun-Young, " still you shouldn't go outside." She dismissed. " she right. You're still human, you'll die if you go outside." Hye-In agreed. But Jay-Hwan thought otherwise.

" –We can't let her stay here?" I rolled my eyes, " why don't you shut up!" I fussed that's when Eun-Hyuk Entered the room. " why don't we all hold a vote?" Byeong-ll suggested a worried look was plastered on his face.

Then he all turned to us, " just vote how you feel, because this is like... taking part in a murder." I remembered those words, the day Eun-Hyuk guilt trip, everybody, to so they could vote for Hyun-Su to stay for selfish reasons.

But that was over and done with now, " I vote she gets to stay in the arcade." He raised his hand, I did also Even Seung-wan, " Me, too. Maybe she'll be able to hold out as Hyun-Su did?"

After that everyone raised their hands. I was Surprised when Eun-Hyuk's hand was raised, he has changed, well a lot of them have. It looked like Sun-Young was about to cry.

Soon everyone said their goodbyes, I felt bad she was going to be locked up. But it's what she wanted to keep everyone safe it's better than being outside.

At least they won't discriminate against her as they did to Hyun-Su and now be there for her. Things were changing for better than worse. Hopefully, it stayed that way.

After finishing my food, everybody was in a gloomy mood. They moved around sitting in different seats. " I could definitely use a drink on a day like this," Byeong-ll grumbled moving his pointer fingers around a small candle that was lit.

" There you go again."

I didn't mine alcohol, but it sounds good right about now. Jay-Hwan told putting in one earbud," well, do you think Sun-Young will hold out like Hyun-Su?" Seung-Wan rethought his words he said earlier.

" I hope so. I thought it was just her husband, but her whole life is awful." Hue-in announced, yeah I remember Suk-Hyun.

" lady you're face is Awful." Eun-Yoo sneered, I had to smirk, shaking my head. " well I think Byeong-all it right. We could definitely use a drink today."

Ms. Cha agreed I hadn't noticed she left, she was carrying a glass cylinder it was a beautiful dark red juice with raspberry in it.

Setting it down on the table unwrapping the top taking off the plastic wrap. " What is this Korean wine? Please tell me it is." Byeong-ll pleaded.

Everyone began to turn their heads to see. Gil-Seob sat up smelling the wine, " it's at least four years old." He looked up at Ms. cha and she nodded. He smelled it again as Eun-Yoo and I came over sitting beside each other.

" it could be as good as Medicine." I smiled, taking a glance at Eun-Yoo we were both too young but I already had some wine before but it wasn't that great but I was willing to give it another try.

Eun-Yoo Leander forward smelling it, " Yu-ri left early by the way." She informed him, she then moved pushing the Cylinder to me. " go on," she smiled I did to smelling it. God that smelled so sweet, my mouth watered.

" shall we finish this off before Eun-Hyuk comes?" She suggested, talking about her brother. Gil-Seob stuck his pinky in the jar getting a taste. We all began to laugh.

But stopped seeing Eun-Hyuk, he had a straight face, considering he was the leader he made the choices around here shit. " speak of the devil." Gil-Seob mumbled.

I was for sure he wouldn't let us drink, but to my shock he did. " just don't forget your duties." Eun-Hyuk then left, turning back around we quickly Gil-Seob began pouring the wine into small cups.

He handed them out giving me and Eun-Yoo one. I gladly Excepted it before I could take a sip Eun-Yoo nudged me. " hey, I saw you and Hyun-Su almost kiss." She whispered in my ear. My eyes went wide, feeling my whole body go stiff.

WHAT!?

I took a sip avoiding her stare, wow this was good and sweet, " don't be embarrassed you guys are cute together might as well hook up before you know what happens." She hinted, smirking at me.

I took another sip, gulping it down. Is this girl talk? From an actual friend? I wanted to be together with him and I confessed in way that was out of my comfort zone.

" Thanks... And yeah, what is better than two Infected's getting together in a world where anything and everything could go wrong." I said lowly enough just for her to hear.

She Seconded that. " his lips were this close!" I wined, showing her pinching my thumb and pointer finger together symbolizing how close were to kissing. I could feel my cheeks heat up, was I getting drunk I only took a few sips I must be lightweight.

I leaned my head on her shoulder kinda upset, she brought her hand up patting my head. " don't worry you'll get your chance, and you'll be the one to do it." She added.

I thought it over, " Me? why me?" My eyes glanced up. She huffed, " because Hyun-Su is too nervous, plus you made the first move he still wouldn't have done it if you didn't say anything." Eun-Yoo finished her cup like me.

I think that is enough Wine for today. I sat my cup down, feeling all fuzzy. Thinking about Hyun-Su's lips they were chapped and dry but it didn't matter I kiss them either way.

I then heard Eun-Yoo laugh loudly. Did I say that out loud? " you did!" She confirmed I was embarrassed hiding my face in my hands. Only me.

"All Alright!" Gil-Seob clubbed his hands together, " who's in for a story?" He recommended, " aren't we too old for stories?" Eun-Yoo stated, he only smiled. " not this one." is all he said

Taking a seat where everyone slept. We followed I laid my head on a pillow. " it was a very dark night with no moon. I lay down between the corpses and pretend to be dead, but u were watching them carefully." so this was a scary, story the Irony huh?

" the remnants of the people's army went inside the building, and the allied forces that were after them fired hundreds of shots at the building." He took the weird stick Jay-Hwan was holding and reenacted the gun fire-making Pow sounds.

He was on his knees saying it loudly but he suddenly stopped. " Hey, I know I saw them go into the building with my own two eyes," he said as if he was so sure. " they all went into the building but nobody came out of the building." I was interested now raising.

" and there were no dead bodies found. How baffling that building." He sucked in a breath looking around as if remembering something. It seems like everyone was on the edge of their seats. " Was here." Everyone gasped, raising hearing this.

" then?" Jay-Hwan gulped, " we have no idea what's buried underneath where we are. That's what I mean."

He Motioned towards the ground, " -what? -jeez." Someone asked not to believe this scared, I mentally laughed the only thing scarier than that is me in this room.

They had no idea, well except Eun-Yoo but then there was a loud bang since everyone was tense they all screamed. An unfamiliar man came running into the room wearing a black soldier suit." He came towards us seeing the jar of raspberry's sticking his hands in it eating them.

We all scooted back, Gil-Seob held up the stick ready to attack if needed. But Yi-kyeong strode in. " who are you, someone yelled. " I think he's a runaway soldier." He continued to eat, as the raspberry juice dripped on the table.

He then looked at his stained red hands, he kept mumbling something I think it was run? But from what? " quickly!" He freaked out then started shaking falling to the floor. What the hell?

Yi-kyeong grabbed onto his collar as the boys got up to help her. They dragged him away. " well that was unexpected." Hye-In blurred out. The girls nodded.

Seeing there was no reason to stay anymore, I got up and left before any more surprises popped up. I said my byes to Eun-Yoo, I figured I should search around for Hyun-Su.

A/N

Finally finished with this chapter. And please I'm sorry if an offended anyone talking about god, I don't mean to if you guys worship a different religion. I did it because it fits in with the characters' plot. And I also smell a great friendship coming up.

Thank you guys for the reads, votes, and support!! 🖤

#kdramaedit #sweet home #song kang #cha hyun su #kdrama #netflix kdrama #sweet home netflix #sweethomeedit #kdrama spoilers #webcomic #sweet home webtoon #sweet home series #webtoon #netflix korea #korean #korean show #monsters #monster

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- THE UNBREAKABLE VOW

"What's the point of having friends if you can't take your problems out on them?" Sirius still didn't seem to get her problem. "Harry did it all last year," Harry looked properly shamefaced for that being brought up again, "Ron was just returning a bit of the favor."

"This isn't about Harry having a temper! Ron was being horrid to everyone around him, and for what? He could have asked out Hermione ages ago if that was his problem."

The other three had only watched them bicker about this the past five minutes only to get it out now. Harry'd had enough arguing in his life though, and requested, "I'm sure if you ever meet the two, you will happily tell them what idiots they were about it all. For now though, can we continue," and he pointedly gave the book to Remus.

The two graciously agreed, they weren't changing each others minds on the maturity of those who were once sixteen.

Snow was swirling against the icy windows once more; Christmas was approaching fast. Hagrid had already singlehandedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees to the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armor and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.

"Which all of the students were completely mature about, I'm sure," Remus snorted.

Sirius caught quite the roguish look in remembrance of practicing, and perfecting, every type of kissing available in one night as a challenge under each. It had been his favorite use of the cloak by far.

Large groups of girls tended to converge underneath the mistletoe bunches every time Harry went past, which caused blockages in the corridors; fortunately, however, Harry's frequent nighttime wanderings had given him an unusually good knowledge of the castle's secret passageways,

James clucked his tongue, thinking of the trips his son had made and convinced there were other students who had done even more, and not even the Marauders. He wished his son would indulge in this more for fun or not so wholesome things, rather than the other life-or-death matters they usually were.

so that he was often, without too much difficulty, to navigate the mistletoe-free routes between classes.

Lily giggled a bit and Sirius was eyeing his pup with a pout, both clearly refraining from saying something in regards to this.

"If Ginny was under one of those you think he would?" Sirius muttered to Prongs, clearly not completely able to hold himself back.

James snickered slightly but clearly decided against answering.

Ron, who might once have found the necessity of these detours excuse for jealousy rather than hilarity, simply roared with laughter about it all. Although Harry much preferred this new laughing, joking Ron to the moody, aggressive model he had been enduring for the last few weeks,

Sirius couldn't help but snort enthusiastically at such a comparison, immediately telling James, "do we get the chance to upgrade models often? I wouldn't mind trading Prongs in for a more lively version every now and again."

"Excuse me, I'm sorry I don't always have the energy to go gallivanting with you when my newborn had me up at all hours," James returned with pure indulgence.

the improved Ron came at a heavy price. Firstly, Harry had to put up with the frequent presence of Lavender Brown, who seemed to regard any moment that she was not kissing Ron as a moment wasted;

"Ugh, the horror," Remus agreed, thankful Prongs and Evans really weren't ever so flamboyant in that department.

and secondly, Harry found himself once more the best friend of two people who seemed unlikely ever to speak to each other again.

No one could muster up even a smile for that, it was never fun to hear in the first place, and this time more than any as the argument didn't even have any clear sides. Both of those kids needed to talk to each other to fix this, and at this rate, that didn't seem likely.

Ron, whose hands and forearms still bore scratches and cuts from Hermione's bird attack, was taking a defensive and resentful tone.

"I can't even blame him," Sirius sighed.

"Hermione always has been the violent one, wish Ron would shout back what his problem was and then they'd be on even ground again," Remus agreed.

Ron was often telling Harry how she couldn't complain, having done the same to Krum. Now someone wanted to snog him, he hadn't done anything wrong.

"Did he ever even tell her that was his original anger with her?" Lily demanded. "As far as she's concerned, she's been attacked for ages before Lavender even came around."

Harry remained silent now as he was then, he really had no want at all to get in between his friends lives, love-lives to be specific, at any point in time.

Harry did not answer, but pretended to be absorbed in the book they were supposed to have read before Charms next morning (Quintessence: A Quest). Determined as he was to remain friends with both Ron and Hermione, he was spending a lot of time with his mouth shut tight.

"You don't have that problem in here," Sirius heavily hinted.

Harry just gave a shrug, trying in vain to put into words for him, "I really have no more want to say anything about it. I wish they'd make up, but even if they did, they'd be right back where they started, especially with Lavender around now."

When Harry didn't respond this time as well, Ron continued in a lower mutter he hadn't promised Hermione anything, sure he was going to that party with her, but she'd never, it had just been as friends. He was a free agent.

Lily's brow creased as they did finally get an answer for that, and Ron's actions seemed more deplorable by the moment. Had Hermione outright said as friends, or was it simply implied because the meaning wasn't clear? Ron really should have done more to clarify what he was going with Hermione as before he hooked up with Lavender, but then, so should have Hermione, as she'd spent the past years never giving Ron a clear answer either.

Harry turned a page of Quintessence, aware that Ron was watching him. Ron's voice trailed away in mutters, barely audible over the loud crackling of the fire, though Harry thought he caught the words "Krum" and "Can't complain" again.

Hermione's schedule was so full that Harry could only talk to her properly in the evenings, when Ron was, in any case, so tightly wrapped around Lavender that he did not notice what Harry was doing. Hermione refused to sit in the common room while Ron was there, so Harry generally joined her in the library, which meant that their conversations were held in whispers.

Hermione insisted he was at liberty to kiss whomever he liked, she didn't care, while raising her quill and dotting an 'i' so ferociously that she punctured a hole in her parchment.

"Hmm, yes, she's perfectly all at ease here," James muttered.

Harry said nothing. He thought his voice might soon vanish from the lack of use. He bent a little lower over Advanced Potion-Making and continued to make notes on Everlasting Elixirs, occasionally pausing to decipher the prince's useful additions to Libatius Borage's text.

Hermione added on a few moments later Harry needed to be careful as well.

Harry testily said for the last time he wasn't giving up his Potions book. It had taught him more than Slughorn and Snape together-

All four of them got a good laugh out of that, though the boys were just smug Harry's independent studies were doing him some good like theirs had, Lily's laugh still felt a bit more knowing than she'd let on.

Hermione gave the text a nasty look before correcting she'd meant about Slughorn's party. She'd overheard some girls, including that Romilda Vane, slipping Harry a love potion so he'd invite one of them.

Harry spluttered with indignity while the others just looked sorrowful for that situation. "Surely that's not allowed?!"

"Not particularly, at least, no more than using magic on students is in the corridors," Lily said carefully.

"Still, a detention seems mild, considering all one could do under a love potion, as opposed to just jinxing someone else," James was on Harry's side, he didn't like the idea of his kid being forced to take someone to a party he didn't even want to go to.

"The effects wear off just like any magic, it's really not even that powerful, the range is usually exaggerated and while under the influence of one it also depends on how susceptible you are. Much like the Imperius curse I suppose, though that all depends on the brew." Lily seemed rather mild about it all, but her lips were tight with distaste as she remembered Merope and the extreme that had gone on there. Perhaps some sort of regulation should be put in place more, just because people generally didn't use them for more than harmless fun didn't mean there weren't those who couldn't.

Harry demanded why she hadn't confiscated them, it seemed extraordinary that Hermione's mania for upholding the rules could have abandoned her at this crucial juncture.

"What makes you think she didn't?" Remus asked in confusion, it had been his first thought she would.

"She'd just said she's sure they worked and I should be careful," Harry protested.

"Which makes me sure they have more, not that Hermione didn't step in to take what they did have," Sirius shrugged.

Hermione scowled as she explained they hadn't had them with them, otherwise she would have. So unless that half-blood prince could dream up an antidote for a dozen love potions,

Lily snorted softly, muttering something about not tempting her to try. James chuckled lightly for that, knowing it was a challenge his wife would love.

he should invite someone himself. It was tomorrow, and they were getting desperate.

"Why does he have to invite anyone at all!" James protested. "He didn't even want to go!"

"He could just be like Prongs and go stag everywhere," Sirius smirked.

"It's the Yule Ball all over again," Harry groaned in disgust without even hearing him.

"Why not try something of the same tactic then, invite Hermione now as a friend, or even Ron. Lavender wouldn't be able to go, it could be a way to get you all talking again," Remus offered.

"Merlin do I hope I think of that," Harry sighed.

Harry muttered there wasn't anyone he wanted to invite, while trying not to think about Ginny any more than he could help, despite the fact the fact that she kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that made him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform Legilimency.

Sirius snorted out a laugh while Harry's misery only grew, that wasn't something he'd ever wanted anyone to hear.

Hermione grimly finished he'd best be careful what he drank then. Romilda Vane had meant business.

"I don't think Hermione looks anything like me," Sirius said pointedly.

Harry got a small laugh out of that, wishing that was all that ever went on in his life, puns from his godfather.

Harry's attention caught on something else to do with that conversation, hadn't Filch banned the Weasley's products?

"And?" All four of them demanded in surprise, looking at Harry like he'd lost his mind.

Harry shushed them, looking at Remus intently to continue his train of thought for them.

Hermione reminded since when did anyone in this school pay attention to what Filch banned.

Harry pointed out those had gotten into the school despite owls being searched.

Hermione explained it was part of the twins service, they ship it in as cough medicine.

Harry was unintentionally derailed, asking why she knew so much about it.

"She was looking at them in their shop," Lily recalled with an odd look at him, clearly wondering like the rest why he was bringing this up. "She'd have read the labels, probably seen some of the deals on how they got around."

"If the twins could smuggle that into the school, what else could be getting in under Filch then," Harry replied absently, finally letting them in on why he'd barely heard her response anymore than Hermione's, but easily catching the others up where his mind was.

"Still on Malfoy then," Sirius snorted. "I gave up on his waste of a life when he missed a Quidditch game!"

"You know, when I said invite a friend, I didn't think that's what you'd have in mind." Remus offered with a smirk.

Harry scowled at both of them making light of this, when he was still convinced there was something going on there. Because Malfoy clearly hadn't done anything yet, they seemed to be just passing the whole thing off by now, and it was driving him nuts.

Hermione gave him the kind of nasty look she had just given his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, coldly replying it had been on the labels for the bottles she'd seen in their shop this summer. She'd didn't go around putting potions in people's drinks, or making others think she had, which was just as bad.

"Eh, I still thought that was brilliant," James chuckled.

Harry waved her off and went on to his idea about Malfoy slipping in that necklace past Filch disgusted as something else.

Hermione was exasperated at once, but Harry demanded a reason this couldn't have worked.

"I don't see why she's being so impatient with you, it's good having this explained to you," Lily sighed.

Hermione reminded him of the Secrecy Sensors, which were also checking mail. They'd detect such a thing as that necklace,

"You both are missing something really obvious," James said with a frown at Harry.

When his expression didn't change, James insisted, "the secret passages. If Malfoy wants something going in and out of the school, that's the best way I can think of."

"Malfoy probably doesn't know about those," Harry said dismissively at once.

"Malfoy's not the only one who needs to know about them," Sirius frowned in understanding as he cottoned on to Prongs at once.

Harry chewed thoughtfully on the idea, which quickly grew into a gnawing worry. They'd taken his Death Eater idea at word, and of all the available Death Eaters, he did know of at least one that could fit exactly what they worried about.

Lily cleared her throat hard before grabbing their attention back, "yes, well, we still have nothing concrete to worry about. If," she stressed the word with worried eyes on her son, "Malfoy is up to something this year, and all that talk from Narcissa at the beginning wasn't just worried about something going on much later, then yes we can worry about it then."

All the boys sighed, not at all liking to the idea of their secret passages being boarded up for any reason, but suddenly the very real risk to the school was present and could no longer be overlooked.

but those love potions weren't considered dark or dangerous.

"She can speak for herself on that one," Sirius sniffed.

Harry huffed that was easy for her to say.

Sirius got a good laugh for mimicking Harry, and so did he.

Hermione ignored him and continued Filch wouldn't know the difference between a cough potion and a love potion, he just wasn't a good enough wizard, but he didn't need to be to-

Hermione stopped dead; Harry had heard it too. Somebody had moved close behind them among the dark bookshelves. They waited, and a moment later the vulture like countenance of Madam Pince appeared around the corner, her sunken cheeks, her skin like parchment, and her long hooked nose illuminated unflatteringly by the lamp she was carrying.

"Lovely descriptions as always," Remus snickered. He'd never much cared for her either, what with the rants she always gave him for drooling over the books he had a tendency to fall asleep on.

She breathed at them the library was now closed- then shouted at Harry what a depraved boy he was and lunged for his book.

Lily sniffed, those notes improved that book, something Pince would never understand.

Harry quickly snatched it away, defending it wasn't a library book but his own!

Her hands turned clawlike as she told him he'd desecrated it!

"It's a bloody textbook, some teachers even encourage us to write in them," Sirius huffed, wanting to chuck one in her face.

Harry had to tug it out of her grip.

She looked as though she might have a seizure;

"Is that all it takes!" James popped himself on the forehead, "and there I was, wasting away my time trying to convince Padfoot to just chew on one."

"I'm sure it would have had the same effect, if I'd ever bothered," Sirius sniffed. He'd tried it once, and the feel of it had been weird enough he hadn't tried it again.

Hermione, who had hastily packed her things, grabbed Harry by the arm and frog marched him away.

She scolded he'd be banned if he wasn't more careful.

"Can she actually do that?" Sirius got a dreamy look on his face. "Think the teachers would go for an, 'I couldn't do my homework,' excuse if so?"

"I sincerely doubt it, considering you never bothered cracking open a book to begin with," Remus snorted.

Harry protested it wasn't his fault, she'd probably heard Hermione being rude about Filch, he'd always suspected there was something going on between them.

Harry smiled as he again managed to get everyone around him laughing for that idea.

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

"Finally, a normal conversation between you two!" James cackled. "I was beginning to wonder if you had it in you."

The second he walked through the portrait hole, Romilda was waiting,

Lily clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, she knew that feeling.

offering him a gillywater.

Harry denied, and undeterred, Romilda thrust a box of Chocolate Cauldrons on him that had firewhisky in their center.

"Subtlety is clearly not her Charm," Remus snorted.

Unable to think of anything else to do, he accepted them and quickly followed Hermione away. She began with an 'I told you so',

"Anything that stops an 'I told you so,' has to be a good thing," Sirius huffed.

but her face suddenly turned blank; she had just spotted Ron and Lavender, who were intertwined in the same armchair.

Hermione quickly excused herself to the dormitory without another word.

Harry went to bed comforting himself that there was only one more day of lessons to struggle through, plus Slughorn's party, after which he and Ron would depart together for the Burrow. It now seemed impossible that Ron and Hermione would make up with each other before the holidays began, but perhaps, somehow, the break would give them time to calm down, think better of their behavior...

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Remus sighed.

But his hopes were not high, and they sank still lower after enduring a Transfiguration lesson with them both next day. They had just embarked upon the immensely difficult topic of human transfiguration; working in front of mirrors, they were supposed to be changing the color of their own eyebrows.

James and Sirius had scoffed at the use of 'immensely difficult.'

Hermione laughed unkindly at Ron's disastrous first attempt, during which he somehow managed to give himself a spectacular handlebar mustache;

"Don't really know what she was laughing about then," Sirius snorted.

"I personally think they look dashing, was going to grow one myself," James agreed, smoothing non-existent hair down on his chin.

Lily made a face and refused to commentate, afraid it would only encourage him no matter what she said.

Ron retaliated by doing a cruel but accurate impression of Hermione jumping up and down in her seat every time Professor McGonagall asked a question, which Lavender and Parvati found deeply amusing and which reduced Hermione to the verge of tears again.

"Eesh," Remus winced and made a face.

"Those two really know how to hit each other's buttons," James sighed.

"I'm a bit surprised that's what almost made her cry, she should be used to Ron making fun of that," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"It's a difference when they're friends and you know it!" Lily snapped.

Sirius put his hands up defensively and stopped arguing the point, but clearly nothing had changed and neither still saw the others side.

She raced out of the classroom on the bell, leaving half her things behind; Harry, deciding that her need was greater than Ron's just now,

Sirius winced then, he wasn't entirely cruel and wished Ron wouldn't provoke her that bad. He just hoped she didn't run into another troll.

scooped up her remaining possessions and followed her.

He finally tracked her down as she emerged from a girl's bathroom on the floor below.

Sirius winced even harder his little joke almost came to pass.

She was accompanied by Luna Lovegood, who was patting her vaguely on the back.

She greeted him by pointing out one of his eyebrows was yellow.

"Congrats Harry, you got halfway there on your first lesson," James tried to say with chipper.

He greeted her back as he held out Hermione's books.

Hermione took them, thanked him in a choked voice, and she hurried off, without ever giving Harry any time to offer words of comfort, though admittedly he could not think of any.

Luna said she was a bit upset, something about Ron Weasley.

Harry agreed they'd had a row.

Luna decided he was funny sometimes, but a bit unkind.

"That about sums Ron up," Lily sighed in agreement.

Luna was demonstrating her usual knack of speaking uncomfortable truths; he had never met anyone quite like her.

"Nor have I," Sirius agreed with genuine disappointment, but then he supposed, that's why he liked her so much.

He instead politely asked how her term had been going, and she began by saying rather pleasant, as Ginny had gotten many people to stop calling her Loony-

Then Harry burst out, interrupting her to ask if Luna would go to Slughorn's party with him.

James busted out laughing in surprise. None of the others were really any better, but he still took a moment to catch his breath around Harry's stammering, "don't want to think about Ginny that much eh?"

"Wha-no! It's not like that, I mean, I just didn't, I used a friend-"

They were still happily snickering at him, so Harry reached forward to snatch the book away from Remus. He held it protectively, but shook himself off and kept going nonetheless, after pacifying, "we know Harry, but glory you always find a way to make asking anyone out the most interesting thing."

The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them; he heard himself say them as though it were a stranger speaking.

Luna turned her protuberant eyes to him in surprise.

Harry quickly made his intentions perfectly clear, saying just as friends only, and of course if she didn't want to, as he mentally finished he was already hoping she didn't.

Luna was already beaming though, saying she'd love to go as friends.

"Nawh," Lily cooed softly. As she'd just said, clearly Luna had little to no interaction with any friends, so suddenly this seemed like the best idea in the world to her! Why couldn't Harry fall for a nice girl like this, instead of one who caused trouble or his best mates sister? Then again, she'd demanded of the world for ages why Potter had decided he was in love with her, and that had all worked out for the best, so she kept that idea to herself.

Nobody had ever asked her to a party before, as a friend. Should she dye her eyebrow for the event?

"I really love there's just no hesitancy in offering this," Sirius said sincerely, "honestly, whatever party involves that would be better than Slughorn's anyways!"

Harry firmly corrected this idea, saying that had been a mistake, and he'd meet her down in the entrance hall at eight.

A shout of joy came from above, Peeves had overheard the whole thing and at once began chanting that Potty luurved Loony!

Harry scowled even more at their renewed laughter, but at least it was dying down now. Remus did that a little too accurately.

"Got to love Peeves!" James insisted.

"What's your problem Harry, if you're just going with her as a friend why the bother?" Sirius demanded.

"You lot laughing and knowing I don't mean it is grating enough, think how the whole school's going to take it and refusing to even consider the same," Harry said slowly as if to a dim child.

Sirius needed no such help to grasp the situation, but it only caused his lips to start itching again with amusement. He was as well aware as anyone what rumors that school spouted, he just wished his pup would learn to laugh them off a little more than get so uppity about them.

Sure enough, in no time at all the whole school seemed to know that Harry Potter was taking Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's party.

Ron was as much in disbelief as anyone, stating he could have any girl in the whole school, and he chose Loony Lovegood?

Lily huffed and wished Hermione was around to smack him again. Was it really so hard to believe? Ron himself had said she wasn't so bad last year. She didn't understand why none of them had made an effort to hang out with kids outside their circle, outside their house, since they'd made all those friends in the D.A. last year.

Ginny had heard as she was passing by and snapped at him not to call her that, then turned to Harry and encouraged how great this was, she'd never seen her friend so excited. Then she moved to go sit next to Dean.

Harry tried to feel pleased that Ginny was glad he was taking Luna to the party but could not quite manage it. A long way along the table Hermione was sitting alone, playing with her stew. Harry noticed Ron looking at her furtively.

Harry reminded he could apologize any time he liked.

"Tell me whose side you're on again?" Sirius chuckled.

"Whichever one gets them talking again," Harry sighed.

Ron snapped he'd just get attacked by canaries again.

"I like to think Hermione's a little more original," James offered. "Maybe she'll use toucans this time."

"Or perhaps summon a clowder of cats," Remus agreed.

"What?" Harry muttered.

"A group of cats is called a clowder, keep up Harry," Sirius waved off.

Harry said he was only making things worse, why'd he imitate her in class?

Ron snapped she'd laughed at his mustache!

So had Harry, it had been the stupidest thing he'd seen.

"Damn, so that's a no on my own?" James pouted.

But Ron did not seem to have heard;

"A shame, he bloody needed to," Lily groused.

Lavender had just arrived with Parvati. Squeezing herself in between Harry and Ron, Lavender flung her arms around Ron's neck.

Parvati greeted Harry with much less enthusiasm, looking faintly embarrassed and bored by the behavior of their two friends.

"Oh good, I thought it was just me," Harry huffed.

Hermione passed by then, and Parvati gave a very bright and cheerful greeting, positively beaming. Harry could tell that she was feeling guilty for having laughed at Hermione in Transfiguration. He looked around and saw that Hermione was beaming back, if possible even more brightly.

"Girls," all four boys muttered, causing Lily to shake her head in disbelief.

Girls were very strange sometimes.

Lily then added an eyeroll to boot while Sirius got a snicker out of that.

Hermione asked if she was coming to the party tonight, and Parvati sighed she hadn't been invited, wasn't Hermione?

She agreed yes, with Cormac, they were meeting at eight-

Then Lily let out a whistle of surprise as she at once saw what Hermione was doing. If she'd wanted to make her feelings plain, she'd just found the perfect way.

James huffed and grumbled a bit, muttering how grateful he was no lads around school had ever had the gall to say yes to his Lily Flower, even if he was aware she'd tried going out with a few others for a short time. Snivilius' treatment over the years had been more than enough of a deterrent for most though.

There was a noise like a plunger being withdrawn from a blocked sink, and Ron surfaced.

Sirius burst out laughing this time, his pup really did just have the best descriptions for everything!

Hermione acted as though she had not seen or heard anything.

"I can not imagine how," James cocked his head to the side.

Parvati confirmed Cormac McLaggen!

Hermione sweetly agreed that was the one, you know, the lad who had almost become the Gryffindor Keeper.

"Hermione's being really low here," Sirius huffed.

"I think she proved her point quite nicely," Lily giggled, before frowning slightly as his statement really sunk in. "I find this just as equal as what Ron's doing, and it's better than attacking him again. That really wasn't fair of her, so this is the better of the two."

"No one going to say anything about poor innocent McLaggen getting used?" Remus rolled his eyes.

"Harry, smack him for that stupid comment for me, will you?" Sirius leisurely stretched to indicate why he wasn't.

Harry didn't, he was still to busy making faces at his friends furthering this rather than just talking again.

Hermione, gave a very un-Hermione-ish giggle.

Parvati pointed out Hermione must really like her Quidditch players.

"Irony," Remus muttered, considering Hermione had made it as plain as Lily how she felt of the sport, but that girl did tend to get around with the lot.

Hermione corrected she liked good Quidditch players.

"Ouch," all five of them muttered, before James wound up with a defensive look in place, "well by her own statement that doesn't hold. Ron beat out McLaggen in tryouts, and Ron also has won two of the four games he's played. Therefore, Hermione deciding McLaggen over him-"

"James," Lily tisked before he could keep going, he knew as well as any of them what Hermione was doing and was just trying to get himself into a topic of stats again.

He pouted at her, but relinquished he'd have to interrogate his son later for numbers on who could really be the better player. His money was still on Ron, even if McLaggen might have more experience.

She left. At once Lavender and Parvati put their heads together to discuss this new development, with everything they had ever heard about McLaggen, and all they had ever guessed about Hermione. Ron looked strangely blank and said nothing.

"Ron's own words coming back to bite him," Lily said wisely. If he could go around snogging whoever he liked, Hermione was clearly going to indulge in the same.

Harry was left to ponder in silence the depths to which girls would sink to get revenge.

"You've no idea," Lily agreed. "This really isn't even so bad."

Harry looked even more dumbfounded now, not entirely sure he wanted to know what else his mum could have gotten up to in school.

When he arrived in the entrance hall at eight o'clock that night, he found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at him resentfully as he approached Luna. She was wearing a set of spangled silver robes that were attracting a certain amount of giggles from the onlookers, but otherwise she looked quite nice. Harry was glad, in any case, that she had left off her radish earrings, her butterbeer cork necklace, and her Spectrespecs.

"What a shame," Sirius sighed. "Such conversation starters left behind."

They headed up to Slughorn's office, Harry asking if she'd heard the rumor there was a vampire coming.

"I'd prefer the werewolf," Sirius huffed.

Remus rolled his eyes heavily, he'd been suckered into going to those parties by both him and James more than once and had regretted every one.

Luna asked if it was Rufus Scrimgeour?

"Eh?" James muttered in confusion, wondering if they'd missed something in his brief introduction at that first chapter.

"Probably another of Luna's, ah," Lily trailed off while playing with a bit of her hair.

"Fantastic ideas," Sirius finished for her with chipper.

Harry looked on in confusion this was the same Minister of Magic they were talking about.

Luna agreed the very one. Her dad had tried to publish an article over it, but the Ministry had stopped them so the truth couldn't get out.

"Obviously," Remus agreed while trying to fight back a laugh, while the others didn't even bother.

Harry, who thought it most unlikely that Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire, but who was used to Luna repeating her father's bizarre views as though they were fact, did not reply; they were already approaching Slughorn's office and the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing louder with every step they took.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study.

"Magic," Sirius impatiently explained, "he's always been one to make himself seem larger. Unnecessary really, you couldn't overlook him anymore than Hagrid."

The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson , and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house- elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

"That's intentional, I'm sure," Lily sighed. She hadn't heard anything about Hermione's SPEW tactics in a while, she sort of missed that, rather than this recurring problem with Ron.

Slughorn beamed the moment he caught sight of him, grabbing hold of him and already trying to introduce him to everyone in sight, so many he needed to meet!

"Just as many I'd like to avoid," James huffed.

Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry's arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Harry seized Luna's hand and dragged her along with him.

"It is the reason you invited her along, to suffer with you," Sirius agreed with a sigh.

They first met Eldred Worple, who wrote a book on Vampires thanks to his friend Sanguini.

Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded.

"Now picture having to stare at that in a classroom every day as a first year," Remus scoffed. "It's a wonder everyone thought Trocar was a vampire."

"Or why we insist Snivellus is one as well," James agreed.

He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.

Worple met him cheerfully, and continued he'd just been saying to Slughorn where was the biography on Harry Potter everyone was waiting on?

"Have we?" Sirius asked dryly. "I don't recall, must have slipped my mind!"

"The amount of books you've ignored, I can imagine you wouldn't even notice if one was done about you," Remus shot at him.

Harry just muttered these seven were as close as anyone was going to get.

He continued seriously,

"Apparently there is one!" Sirius went wide-eyed with delight, before his eyes glazed over at the thought. "Nah, Moony's right, still not worth it."

"He's impossible," James told the others conversationally.

he'd be happy to be of service with this. A few four hour interviews, no real effort on Harry's part at all, they'd have it together in a matter of months- the he snapped at Sanguini to stay close. The vampire had been edging towards the girls with a hungry look in his eye.

"Shouldn't be letting himself get so distracted," James huffed, already wishing to steer Harry away from this.

Worple sized a pasty from a passing elf and stuffed it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to Harry.

"I feel like that's not actually going to satisfy him," Lily muttered, still a bit concerned.

Harry firmly said he was not interested.

"Here's hoping he takes a hint," Remus said in disgust, picturing another Skeeter like wannabe now after Harry.

He excused himself then, spotting Hermione and dragging Luna along with him again after her.

She was relieved to see him, saying she'd just escaped- err, left Cormac.

Lily stiffened with unease and all of the boys frowned, wanting to corner McLaggen themselves now. No lady should ever have to feel like she escaped a date, that was just wrong.

Under mistletoe, she explained to his questioning look.

"What a wanker!" James yelped, very much wishing now he could dissuade McLaggen from ever going near mistletoe for any reason again. His friends and son's expression made it clear they'd help.

Harry told her it served her right, coming here with him.

"Harry!" Lily scolded.

"She brought it on herself," he began grudgingly defended, before he sighed and relented with the same look he'd given his friend at the time, "but I'm happy she didn't have to spend anymore time with him once she realized it."

Hermione dispassionately said she'd been sure he'd annoy Ron the most, she'd even considered Zacharias Smith,

"Wow, Hermione was really trying to prove a point," Sirius grumbled, thinking it was all pointless anyways, if she'd just talk to the idiot she clearly had feelings for.

and she wished she had now, McLaggen made Grawp look like a gentleman.

Lily scoffed and hoped some of Hermione's temper had come through, taught that rotten boy a lesson about how to treat others.

The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone.

"Finally, we're in need of a laugh," Remus sighed, they hadn't really anything fun to chat about in ages, Trelawney was usually good for that, or, she had been. Now none of them could think of her without wincing anymore than Dumbledore.

James' expression had gone purely sour, none of them had forgotten it was her ruddy prediction that would get them into this mess very, very soon, and had already ruined Harry's life.

Trelawney greeted Luna with difficulty, her breath smelled of sherry as she said she hadn't spotted her in class lately.

Luna said she had Firenze this year.

"Why am I not surprised Luna took Divination," Sirius nodded, he could imagine these two getting along well.

Trelawney continued in a drunken titter about that horse, it was a insult. So far she seemed too tipsy to recognize Harry.

"Yet," James sighed. "Give it a few moments, the death omens will commence."

"As inaccurately as ever," Sirius agreed with chipper.

Under cover of her furious criticisms of Firenze, Harry drew closer to Hermione and asked if she was going to tell Ron about her interference in the Keeper tryouts?

Hermione said she wouldn't stoop that low.

Harry was relived, saying all it would do was make him fall apart again, they couldn't lose the next match-

"Yeah, I can see how that would backfire, again," Lily heaved a heavy sigh. She liked to think Ron would see the kinder side of her act, she was only trying to help her friend, but really it only showed she had no confidence in Ron, again.

Hermione angrily spat that's all boys cared about was Quidditch. Cormac hadn't asked one question about her all night, no, it was 'A Hundred Great Saves by Cormac McLaggen.' Then speak of the one, she spotted him and vanished so fast she could have disapparated away.

Harry scowled, his hand twitching for his wand anyone made Hermione run off like that.

He at once asked Harry if he'd seen Hermione, and he said no at once and turned back to Luna, forgetting for the moment who she'd been talking to.

"The windbag's better than the blowhard," Remus sniffed.

"Curse him Harry, Slughorn won't do anything to you!" James mock whispered.

This caused Trelawney to finally take notice of him. She at once began of the rumors and stories around him, the Chosen One and all, of course she'd known for a very long time before that.

"Oh yes, of course she has, so kind of her to warn us of it all!" Sirius graciously spewed out while holding back wanting to crush her skull.

Why had he not returned to divination? He of all people must see it as the utmost importance!

"Yes, I do miss tea time in the middle of class," Lily said sweetly, unable to completely hide her clipped tone.

Slughorn arrived then, chastising all of the teachers found their class the most important. He'd never seen a more natural Potioneer, just like his mother!

Lily gave a real giggle of affection, sometimes she missed Slughorn.

Even Severus could hardly rival! To Harry's horror Slughorn seemed to pull Snape right out the crowd from nowhere to join the conversation,

All five of them groaned heavily, it really had been nice going so long not hearing a word of his nasty habits. Seemed getting the DADA job really had put him in a better mood, as he'd yet to really be shown insulting Harry anymore, this was not a kind return they were looking forward to!

Still going on about Harry's exceptional work, of course credit went to him, teaching him the past five years.

James suddenly blinked in surprise, giving Lily a funny sort of look as her laughter increased, though now she was trying to cover it with her hand. He opened his mouth to ask her, for the thousandth time it seemed today, just what was so funny, but Remus hadn't noticed a thing, and James sat back with a calculating look in place, for now merely content on watching her laughter, a noise he knew he'd never grow tired of.

Trapped, with Slughorns arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed as he said how funny that was, he hadn't thought he'd taught Potter much of anything.

Lily had schooled her features quickly enough and was scowling along with the rest, honestly agreeing with Sirius' statement, "not like you ever tried!" Even if she was the only one to appreciate the irony.

Snape eyes were boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of his newfound brilliance at Potions.

Her lips twitched again, to a frown this time though. She wouldn't much enjoy it either if Snape found that old book, she didn't like to think what it would bring up, or the problems Harry would have with Slughorn and the school if it did.

Slughorn asked what he was going on to do, and Harry said Auror.

Luna unexpectedly jumped in to say Harry shouldn't do that, they were part of the Rotfang conspiracy, who were planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using Dark Magic and gum diseases.

James blinked slowly at such a random insertion into the conversation, as if coming back from thinking of something a long ways off, but quickly jumped in, "see, this is why I'm so glad you invited Luna along! This is exactly what we needed to liven this party!"

"I think it's all the more reason for Harry to join," Sirius quickly agreed with a happy little chuckle. "He can tear that Conspiracy apart from the inside out!"

"I'd honestly like to hear more about this first, see what we can learn from such a secretive organization living right inside the Ministry," Remus chuckled.

Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh.

"The whole party was worth it just for that," Harry rubbed his nose in remembrance.

Really, it had been worth bringing Luna just for this.

"Least we're safe in the knowledge you haven't changed," Sirius chuckled in agreement.

Emerging, from his goblet, coughing, sopping wet but still grinning, he saw something calculated to raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy being dragged by the ear toward them by Argus Filch.

"That honestly never does get old," James started grinning at once, the idea of McGonagall doing this to Malfoy again the only thing that could make it better for whatever Malfoy was caught doing.

"Oh!" Harry yelped in pain, pressing hard to his temple which did nothing to alleviate it. Too late to do anything to resist it, the feeling arose again of something important was about to happen, and he ground his teeth together in pain to stop himself thinking at some stupid party!

Remus gave him an anxious look beside him, they all did, but all they could do was go on with that bitter disappointment of again one pure fun moment being snatched away by the never-ending problems in Harry's life.

Filch wheezed out he'd caught this one a floor above trying to sneak down here, saying he'd been invited.

Harry had a hard time for a moment just struggling to remember how to swallow. It was all right there, he was sure of it, crowding around his mind and pressing loudly for his attention, when all he could do was groan in misery and clutch at his head.

Malfoy finally managed to pull himself away to snap he'd lied, he was gate crashing, happy?

"He was probably indignant, this is the first time a Malfoy's ever had to gate crash a party," James muttered without any real attention.

Filch said he wasn't,

"Now why don't I believe him?" Remus rolled his eyes, at least trying to act like this was all normal.

"A student's in trouble, I'm surprised he hasn't pissed himself in pleasure yet," Sirius sniffed.

which didn't quite match the glee on his face as he declared the punishment this was worth!

Slughorn tried to intervene, saying it was Christmas, and of course Draco could stay.

"Urgh, I can't even be mad," James huffed. "The amount of times Slughorn's actually covered for us, doing the same! Course, he often used it to guilt us into going to more of these, so we were never too grateful," James trailed off unhappily when he realized Harry wasn't paying one word of attention, still rubbing furiously at his temple.

Filich's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable; but why, Harry wondered, watching him, did Malfoy look almost equally unhappy? And why was Snape looking at Malfoy as though both angry and . . . was it possible? ... a little afraid?

Now all four of them were twitching with just as much unease as Harry. Maybe they had been too dismissive of Snape's opening, maybe Malfoy was trying to do something this year, much sooner than they'd been thinking.

But almost before Harry had registered what he had seen, Filch had turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath; Malfoy had composed his face into a smile and was thanking Slughorn for his generosity, and Snape's face was smoothly inscrutable again.

"Malfoy's never been good at hiding anything, Snape on the other hand," James trailed off unhappily.

Slughorn waved this off, saying to think of it as a return of favor for his old grandfather.

Malfoy quickly agreed his thanks, he had always said he was the best potion-maker he'd ever known!

"Flattery is still getting him everywhere," Sirius scowled.

Harry stared at Malfoy. It was not the sucking-up that intrigued him; he had watched Malfoy do that to Snape for a long time. It was the fact that Malfoy did, after all, look a little ill. This was the first time he had seen Malfoy close up for ages; he now saw that Malfoy had dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly grayish tinge to his skin.

"What on earth does that little prat have to be so stressed about?" Remus sighed, but not as if he really meant it. Suddenly that conversation with his mother was at the forefront of all their minds. What exactly had Voldemort asked him to do? It was now very clear it was happening right now, what else could be going on?

Harry would have been far more smug if his head wasn't hurting so badly.

Snape interrupted he'd like a word.

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, irresolute,

"Why the hesitation?" Lily asked in surprise, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. "By this point, I'd have thought you'd be following them before their cloak swung around the door."

"I'll admit, I was starting to feel a little paranoid," Harry answered distractedly, only the sound of his mother's voice able to penetrate the sieve of his pain filled mind right now.

then said he'd be right back to Luna, excusing himself to the bathroom.

"There's my boys subtlety, always shining through," James tried for sarcasm, but he was leaning forward too eagerly to mean it. He was far to curious if Harry could actually hear something of use for all this.

He thought he heard her, as he hurried off into the crowd, resume the subject of the Rotfang Conspiracy with Professor Trelawney, who seemed sincerely interested.

"Oh look, I was right," Remus said distractedly.

It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself, for the corridor was quite deserted.

Sirius almost wanted to burst with excitement. Finally, something completely uncontested Harry was using that old cloak for, to spy on Snape!

What was more difficult was finding Snape and Malfoy. Harry ran down the corridor, the noise of his feet masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn's office behind him. Perhaps Snape had taken Malfoy to his office in the dungeons ... or perhaps he was escorting him back to the Slytherin common room. . . . Harry pressed his ear against door after door as he dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of excitement, he crouched down to the keyhole of the last classroom in the corridor and heard voices.

Snape was saying Draco couldn't afford such mistakes or he was going to be expelled.

Draco protested he didn't have anything to do with that Bell girl! She must have some enemy out there no one knew of!

Remus' hand ached along the page with tension. Where as before he really hadn't known how Malfoy even could have a hand in that, suddenly Snape suspecting him of as much made the possibility seem as if it were back open again. Malfoy's return was certainly ridiculous, what would an average Hogwarts student have to do with this.

"What exactly is Malfoy supposed to be doing?" James hissed for what felt like the thousandth time. "If Snape thinks for a second it involves anything to do with Katie, this all became so much more terrifying!"

Then Malfoy told him to stop, that Occlumency wasn't going to work on him!

Snape grudgingly said his Aunt Bellatrix had been giving him some lessons.

Harry scowled anew, but more for the idea Malfoy picked up on something he never had. It was hard to believe on principle.

Snape asked what thoughts was he concealing from his master?

Sirius shivered in disgust, as far as he was concerned, that officially meant Malfoy was a Death Eater. It was despicable, how this kids life was now ruined, just like his brothers.

Malfoy shouted back he wasn't keeping anything from him, just trying to make Snape butt out!

Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole. . . . What had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this; Snape, toward whom he had always shown respect, even liking?

"Malfoy's gone off with an ego apparently," Remus muttered, it wouldn't surprise him if Malfoy now thought himself better than his old teacher and fellow Death Eater.

Snape said this was the reason he was being avoided this term then? Fearing his interference? If anyone else had ignored his summons to come to his office-

Malfoy jeered to give him a detention then.

Snape paused before saying he did not wish to do that.

"Wow, Snape can't even pretend to have control over this anymore," James muttered, his mind on that Unbreakable Vow Snape had made. What if he couldn't fulfill requirements outside of his control, what were the circumstances of it not being his fault?

Snape instead offered help, he'd made the Unbreakable Vow to do so.

Malfoy protested he didn't needed help, it was his job, it was just taking longer than he'd planned!

Harry pulled his fingers through his hair in frustration, some small part of him still wanting to cheer and jeer he'd been right and everyone else had been either downplaying, or completely ignoring his suspicions. The larger part of him was too hard to ignore, that feeling of dread, that whatever Malfoy was doing he wanted to prevent at all costs.

Snape insisted he was making foolish mistakes, wandering here after hours-

Malfoy said that wouldn't have happened if he hadn't put Crabbe and Goyle in detention!

"You mean he actually puts his own students in detention?" Sirius mock gasped while James pretended to faint in shock.

"Purely for motivational reasons I'm sure, he could dig through Crabbe and Goyle's mind instead to find out what they're doing with Malfoy," Remus said as he glared down at this.

"Yes, heavens forbid he not be bias for one moment," Lily scowled at the lot of them. As far as she was concerned, Snape was trying to help. Narcissa, Malfoy, even Dumbledore, if Draco was the one doing this, so why couldn't they just lay off him for one moment and listen.

Malfoy cut off none of that mattered! Besides, he had better people besides those two to help him.

Remus swallowed convulsively with worry, he still despised the idea of just what other help that was.

More Death Eaters, with much more knowledge of the castle? More horrible people, like his Aunt Bellatrix? Or some even more unspeakable, like a threat Malfoy had already used once, that Remus still feared to this day.

Malfoy knew exactly what was going on, Snape wanted to steal his glory!

"Wow, and this impertinent child is the one we're all so afraid of right now," Sirius snorted in disgust that could be on anyone's mind right now. Nothing about what was going on was glorious.

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly he was speaking like a child.

"Because he is," Lily sighed, still knowing that didn't excuse all that was being implied here.

It was understandable his father's imprisonment would-

Snape couldn't' get out another word, Harry had barely a second' s warning; he heard Malfoy's footsteps on the other side of the door and flung himself out of the way just as it burst open . Malfoy was striding away down the corridor, past the open door of Slughorn's office, around the distant corner, and out of sight. Hardly daring to breathe, Harry remained crouched down as Snape emerged slowly from the classroom. His expression unfathomable, he returned to the party. Harry remained on the floor, hidden beneath the cloak, his mind racing.

"With?" The others asked excitedly.

"I had my proof," Harry said quietly, finally settling his endless fidgeting now that such an important memory was returned and he could think again. "Malfoy's up to something, and I'm the only one that can stop it."

HPHPHPHP

This chapter right here really does prove my point about the second one being pointless. It's all repeat information now, what was the point of Spinner's End? Without that chapter, this would have been a much bigger reveal, as we wouldn't have even gotten confirmation until this point at half-way through the story something really was going on.

#Harry Potter #fanfcion #The Life That Never Lived #reading the books #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #sirius Black #Lily Potter

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womenstan · 4 years

Text

Heaven In Hiding - Nooreva

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28058616

Two friends, a mind-blowing kiss and a misunderstanding.

red colored lips and narrow hips

angel dusted hair and skin so fair

take my hand and make me blush

seal my lips and let me touch

Parties were fun. Objectively, Eva knew that. There was booze, music and available mouths to latch onto. So, yes, usually parties were fun. Except this one wasn’t.

See, since Jonas, Eva had never been able to find a stable relationship. That was fine back in high school, when most parties consisted of random people hooking up in bathrooms and throwing up in bushes. But now, Eva was a little older and, most importantly, the only single one in her friend group. Isak had Even, Chris was inexplicably still with Kasper and Vilde… well Vilde was probably holed up in a corner of the living room meowing at Magnus. Sana and Yousef were the only ones who weren’t constantly busy eating each other’s faces and, thus, could have an actual conversation with Eva. However, they had decided to spend the winter break visiting Yousef’s family in Morocco, leaving Eva on her own in a sea of unbearable couples. Even fucking Jonas had managed to find a girlfriend to bring to the party (granted, at least those two weren’t all over each other yet , but it wasn’t like Eva could interpose herself between Jonas and his new conquest without things getting a little awkward).

So, while everyone was cheerfully decorating christmas ornaments, dancing on the make-shift dance floor or making out on Isak and Even’s worn-out couch, Eva was alone in the kitchen, gulfing down little pâtés and drinking her third… no fourth… glass of wine. To be fair, she didn’t even want to come in the first place! But Vilde had guilt-tripped her into coming by saying that Isak would be disappointed if she didn’t show - which, bullshit, as Isak seemed much more preoccupied with reaching the depths of his boyfriend’s throat than with Eva’s presence. It’s not like Eva wasn’t happy for all of them, of course she was, they were her friends! So, yes, she was glad that they were all getting some on the regular, but she did feel alone from time to time. Like tonight.

If only Noora was here…

No. Nope. Bad idea. Eva was not going to go down memory lane right now. There’s no way she was even gonna let her brain try to remember that kiss. Fuck. Here we go.

Truth was, Eva was never good at dealing with her problems and her emotions. Her motto was ‘ignore it and when you can’t anymore, drink it away’. Usually, that worked quite well, as her intoxicated brain tended to be more horny than anything else. But this one particular memory seemed to always find a way to sneak its way up to the front of her thoughts, especially on nights like this where she was feeling particularly lonely. The memory in and of itself wasn’t a bad one, god no. It was probably her fondest memory to date. No, the problem wasn’t the memory, it was what happened after the memory.

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

See, at the end of her first year at Nissen, Eva had gone to a party at William’s house with all of her friends. Eva didn’t like William very much, but if there was one quality that man possessed, it was knowing how to throw a good fucking party. The music was great, the view from his rooftop was incredible and, most importantly, the supply of alcohol was never-ending. So, of course, to honour the gods of wine, Eva decided to steal a bottle for herself. At first, she was planning to drink it slowly as the night went on and, thus, avoid having to go back to the table for refills. Brilliant, of course. What Eva had not planned for was to immediately spot Jonas making out with Sara in the middle of the rooftop, the sun shining directly on them, as if to taunt her. It wasn’t even necessarily that Eva wasn’t over Jonas : she still loved him dearly, but she had grieved their relationship by this point. No, it was more that Eva felt lonely and undesired. The one combo that always leads to her making mistakes. It took Eva a total of fifteen seconds for her brain to compute that this was, in fact, Jonas kissing down Sara’s throat and not an eerily similar (and equally eager) doppelgänger. Then, she was back inside in a matter of milliseconds.

She sat down in the relative darkness under the stairs that led to the rooftop, gulping down her bottle of wine faster than Dionysus ever could. She sighed, closing her eyes and letting her head fall backwards on the ramp. The position wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was bearable, which Eva felt reflected well her internal feelings. So, she stayed seated there, drinking from her wine bottle, alone and lonely.

And that’s exactly how Noora found her some time later, her bottle now almost emptied, her eyelids heavy under the added weight of the alcohol circulating through her body. Noora, beautiful, kind, considerate, Noora, squatted down to Eva’s level slowly, a careful look on her face, as if she was approaching a wild animal. To be fair, that’s probably what Eva looked like right now, curled in on herself, holding the bottle of wine like a lifeline.

‘Er du ok?’ Noora asked, trying to meet Eva’s eyes with her own.

Slowly, Eva raised her head, looking at Noora for a grand total of one second before bursting into tears. Noora let out a soft sigh and crouched down next to Eva, bringing her arm up around her and squeezing Eva into her side thightly.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’, Noora whispered near Eva’s ear. Eva tried to answer and, instead, let out a pathetic whimper, which only made Noora bring up her other arm around Eva’s sobbing form. Their position was far from ideal, but Noora didn’t seem to mind as she held Eva through her crying fit and Eva certainly didn’t mind, burying her head in Noora’s neck and inhaling her soft lavender perfume. Eva’s sobs slowly turned into quiet tears, the only sound interrupting the silence hanging in the air being Eva’s slight sniffles as she tried to compose herself. Once she felt like she could actually utter a word without tears flowing down her cheeks, Eva began to reluctantly move out of Noora’s comforting embrace. Noora let her go slowly, kissing her head tenderly before wiping away the mascara that had run down Eva’s face with the pad of her thumbs. Eva was a bit embarrassed, but as she held Noora’s gaze, searching for a hint of annoyance, all she found was tenderness, love and maybe a little bit of worry.

Shakily, Eva let out a ‘Ja, I’m okay’, her voice barely a whisper, but Noora heard it anyway. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a soft smile and she nodded slowly, her eyes set on Eva’s.

‘I’m sorry for…’ Eva began, gesturing around, ‘this. I was just tired of being lonely and unworthy of love and I guess my feelings chose this moment to come out’.

Noora’s smile faltered a bit and Eva felt worry constrict her heart. Had she said too much? Maybe Noora had finally gotten tired of all of Eva’s whining and complaining? Eva lowered her head in shame, telling herself off mentally.

‘Eva. Eva, look at me,’ said Noora, lifting Eva’s chin softly with her index. Noora waited until Eva found the strength to look back into her eyes, before she went on, ‘You’re the best person I know. You’re a caring, smart, funny person who’s worthy of all the love there is in this world. If someone thinks otherwise, then they’re wrong, because I know anyone would be lucky to have the privilege to love you.’

By the end of Noora’s short speech, tears were back in Eva’s eyes. But those weren’t tears of sadness, even though Eva didn’t quite know what emotions she was feeling. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it would fly out of her chest, her head was spinning slightly (although that could simply be the wine) and she felt hoards of butterflies spreading their wings in the pit of her stomach. Inadvertently, Eva’s gaze dropped to Noora’s perfectly reddened lips. Her lips that looked so soft, so inviting in this dim lighting. Her lips, whose mere view ignited a fire within Eva’s body and a true tornado inside her mind. When Eva raised her eyes back up to Noora’s, the intensity she could read in them led her to believe that Noora’s body might be sending her similar signals. For a moment, they just looked into each other’s eyes, but it wasn’t tender anymore. The tension between them was palpable and Eva felt her own head slowly gravitate towards Noora’s, as if an invisible string was bringing them together. Noora’s head seemed to follow the same path, as they both made their way towards each other, never breaking eye contact. Once their lips were mere millimeters away, Eva moved her head back slightly to be able to gaze into Noora’s eyes properly.

‘Anyone?’, she asked, her voice barely audible as every muscle in her body had seemingly turned to liquid in Noora’s proximity.

Noora’s eyes seemed to search for something in Eva’s own for a moment, but they found what they were looking for fast enough and Noora whispered back ‘Anyone’.

It was like that one word set something off in Eva’s brain, because next thing she knew, she was closing off the last bit of space between their lips.

Eva had been kissed before, enough that she actually considered herself experienced in the matter. Kissing was fun, very fun even, but it was nothing compared to what Eva was experiencing right now.

As soon as their lips collided, it felt like her brain imploded. Every bit of her body was on fire and the only thought going through her head was ‘More. More. More.’ What began as a chaste kiss quickly turned into more, both of them unable to satiate their own bodies. Noora raised her left hand, caressing Eva’s face as she licked into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Fireworks were going off behind Eva’s eyelids and it felt as if time had stopped. Eva twisted her hands in Noora’s hair, trying to get impossibly closer, melting into her arms. Noora followed suit, letting her right hand toy with the hair on Eva’s neck. At that sensation, Eva let out a whimper she was automatically ashamed of, but the shame rapidly turned into pride as she felt Noora smile slightly into her mouth. Eva let her hands wander down Noora’s body, before settling on her hip, just under her black blouse. Noora slowly started to lower herself down, bringing Eva along, when the door to the rooftop burst open. The two girls jumped apart, frightened. William and Chris stumbled down the stairs, teasing each other loudly, before coming to an abrupt halt once they noticed the two girls holed up under the stairs.

‘What are you girls doing down there?’ William asked, looking more confused than anything else.

Noora’s gaze was burning into the side of Eva’s head, but Eva refused to meet her eyes. She knew what was coming. Noora had let herself go for a minute, but she was probably already regretting it. Who would choose messy, unstable, untrustworthy Eva over perfect, steady, beloved William? Eva knew it, she even understood it, but she still had enough pride to try to avoid direct rejection at all cost.

‘Oh, girl problems, you know’ Eva tried to joke, letting out a small laugh that almost sounded like a sob. William and Chris exchanged a look, before seemingly deciding it wasn’t worth further questioning.

‘Ok… Well Noora, do you wanna come up?’, William asked, ‘I’ve got a slow dance lined up that has your name on it’, he added before winking.

Noora’s eyes still didn’t move from Eva as she said, hesitantly, ‘I’m not sure William… We were kind of in the middle of something…’ Fearing that Noora would want to talk about it , Eva quickly got up, dusting off her pants and quickly mumbling an excuse about her mother coming home unexpectedly before practically running out of the front door. The last thing she heard was a disbelieving laugh and a ‘What the hell?’ coming from Chris, but she was fast down the street before anyone could think of going after her, tears streaming down her face, her shattered heart left on William’s immaculate penthouse floor.

The couple next days were a blur of hangovers, tears and troubled dreams. A week later, Eva’s mom came home and she decided Eva had moped enough. She sat on her bed, sighing as she saw the continuous stream of tears that had established a permanent residence on Eva’s cheeks. She bent down slightly and caressed Eva’s hair tenderly, which only resulted in making her cry even more.

‘Love, what happened?’, her mother asked, her tone serious and worried.

Eva simply buried her face deeper into her pillow, shaking her head.

‘Whatever it is, Eva, hiding alone in your room won’t solve it’, her mom said.

Eva sighed and spoke into her pillow. ‘Well maybe I won’t solve it, but at least I can avoid it’.

Her mom’s caresses came to a halt and she hoisted Eva up into a sitting position, despite the girl’s protests. Once Eva was sitting up, crossed-legged, her mom brushed away the dirty strands of hair that were falling in her face and firmly gripped her face with both hands.

‘Eva, listen to me for once. Avoiding your problems is not a solution. Avoiding your problems only lets them grow and grow and grow, until you inevitably have to confront them. It’s better to face a small stone than to climb a mountain.’ Eva let out a small laugh at that metaphor, ‘Go face your pebble Eva, before its weight becomes too much for you to bear.’ Eva’s mom smiles at her softly and Eva can’t help herself but smile back.

‘You know mom, sometimes, you actually have good advice,’ Eva teased her mom, now fully grinning.

Her mom raised her hand to her chest in faux offense shouting ‘How DARE you insult your mother like that, huh? How dare you?’, before starting to tickle Eva, sending the both of them into a fit of laughter.

Maybe her mom was right, maybe if Eva faced Noora right now, things could still be fixed between them.

The next day, Eva showed up to the Kollektivet with a bag full of their favourite snacks and a new hope blossoming in her chest. She knocked on the door and wasn’t at all surprised when an overjoyed Eskild opened the door for her.

‘Hi! Hi! Come in, come in! To what do I owe this pleasure?’ Eskild inquired, a bright grin on his face.

Eva’s grin was probably just as big as she answered, ‘Oh, I’m coming to see Noora!’

However, her grin fell rapidly once she saw Eskild’s expression turn into one of slight discomfort.

‘Ehrm… How do I say this… I really thought she would have told you… Especially you…’ Eskild went on as he started to nervously move around the kitchen.

Eva felt panic rise in her chest as she imagined the worst scenarios. ‘Eskild! ESKILD!’, Eva shouted, finally getting Eskild to stop pacing around anxiously, ‘Just tell me.’

Eskild schooled his face and put a comforting hand on Eva’s shoulder. In his eyes, all Eva could see was pity. ‘She… ehrm… Noora left for London last night, Eva’

Eva felt as if her brain had short-circuited. Maybe she had misheard? What on Earth would Noora be doing in London anyway? ‘In London? Why would she go to London? Are you sure?’, Eva asked, her voice betraying her growing worry.

Eskild just looked at her for a moment and it clicked in Eva’s mind. ‘William’, she said. It wasn’t a question, but Eskild still had the decency to nod.

‘Do you…’, Eskild started, ‘Do you want some tea? Biscuits?’, he rummaged around in the cupboards before turning back around and adding, ‘We don’t actually have biscuits. Or tea. I can get you water?’

Eva quickly declined and made her exit. As she walked to the bus stop, she was expecting more tears. She was expecting to feel betrayed, sad, angered even. But she just felt empty, numb, lonely. Just so fucking lonely.

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

Now, here she was, over two years later and absolutely no sign of life from Noora. Eva had tried to feel bitter at her, to hate her, but she never could. Whatever she had felt in the seconds they had kissed had forever sealed Noora into her heart. Now, every other hookup felt too boring, too unappealing. Hence why she was here, at this party, alone. It didn’t even matter that she didn’t have a guy to fool around with, because no matter if she was truly alone or not, Eva constantly felt lonely. A loneliness that had set camp in the Noora shaped hole in her chest.

Noora’s sudden disappearance from Eva’s life had made such an impact that, sometimes, Eva would find herself hearing her voice as clear as day, then turning around with excitement only to realize she had been mistaken.

Like right now, for example, as Eva could swear she clearly hears Noora’s voice coming from the living room. Except Noora is in London with her boyfriend and definitely not at this christmas party.

‘Hi! Or should I say… H?’ a sudden voice speaks from behind Eva.

Eva is so startled that, as she turns around, she lets her wine cup slip out of her hand and onto the floor (good thing Isak and Even’s cups are all made of plastic, huh), spilling red coloured liquid all over the floor. Eva’s dress and her shoes get stained, but Eva couldn’t care less.

She couldn’t care less, because standing in front of her, in the flesh, is none other than Noora. Noora and her eternal bright red lipstick, smiling shyly at her. Eva is so stunned that she simply freezes and stares at Noora, her mouth slightly agape and her brain working overtime to try and compute the situation.

Noora doesn’t push, simply staring at Eva and fiddling anxiously with strands of her hair.

When, finally, Eva realizes that Noora is really standing in front of her and that this isn’t another one of those pesky dreams, she feels all of the emotions she had suppressed for the past two years flood back to the surface. She lets out a watery ‘Noora?’ as tears pile up in her eyes. Noora’s smile drops slightly as her eyes, still so kind and so affectionate, take in Eva’s state.

‘Can we talk? Privately?’ Noora asks carefully, testing the waters.

Eva doesn’t even have time to mull over the question before her mouth lets out a ‘Of course’ and before she knows it, she’s leading Noora down the hallway and into the bedroom. Once they’re both in, Eva closes the door behind them and slowly turns to face Noora.

She’s sitting on the bed, her legs crossed, looking down at her hands laying in her lap. Eva is simply standing by the door, entirely unsure of what to do in this situation. The longer she just stands there, the more the awkwardness between them grows and at one point, Eva can’t take it. She marches rapidly to the bed and sits down unceremoniously. There’s another long moment of silence between them, as neither seems to know where to go from there. Eva sighs loudly and starts ‘Look, I don’t know why you think you can just disappear for two fucking years without giving me news and then come back as if-’

Her speech is interrupted by Noora’s lips crashing into hers with full force, which does hurt a little bit, but the pain is rapidly overcome by pleasure. This time, it’s anything but slow and soft. Two years of pent up feelings from both sides are released into one moment, leading the kiss to rapidly turn passionate. Noora doesn’t waste any time before slipping her tongue in Eva’s mouth, guiding her to lay down on the bed at the same time. Eva’s hands are roaming Noora’s body under her shirt as she obeys Noora’s silent command and lays back. Eva brings her hands to the front and tries to unbutton Noora’s blouse, unsuccessfully, instead ending up getting stuck in Noora’s hair. Noora yelps slightly from the pain and they break apart for a moment, giggling.

Noora stops her movement on top of Eva and softly caresses her cheek, gazing into her eyes. There, Eva can see nothing has changed from the last time they saw each other. Noora’s eyes are filled with love, tenderness and care. Eva is pretty sure her own eyes reflect the exact same emotions. But in hers, there’s also worry, and she can’t restrain herself from asking the question that’s been swirling around in her brain since she saw Noora again.

‘What about William?’ Eva whispers. Noora looks lovingly into her eyes and slowly traces the outline of her face, down to her jaw. She bends down slightly and brushes her nose with Eva’s fondly. Eva can feel her eyelids drooping just from those little attentions.

‘Fuck William. We’re over.’ Noora answers back in the same hushed voice.

‘Over, over?’ Eva questions back, her tone growing hopeful.

Noora kisses Eva chastely, barely brushing their lips together.

‘Over, over. When I was in London, I felt like a piece of me was missing. I kept trying to fill it with material, friends or even time with William, but nothing worked. I just felt empty,’ Noora begins.

Eva nods along, ‘Yeah, me too. Just hollow.’

Noora smiles sadly, ‘Yeah. About a year in, William and I broke up because I learned that he cheated on me.’ At that, Eva perks up, getting ready to insult him, but Noora puts her index on her lips and brings her back down, effectively shushing her. ‘It’s okay. He’s in the past. But after that, I went to see a therapist to try and figure out why I was feeling this way. To try and be happy again’. As Noora continues to speak, Eva strokes her hair in encouragement. ‘And I slowly came to the realization that… I was in love with you. I am in love with you. And that nothing and no one could fill that emptiness, except you. If you still want me.’ By the end of her sentence, both girls had tears streaming down their faces.

‘Of course I still want you’, Eva assured her. ‘You’re it for me too, you know?’

For a moment, they just stared at each other, smiling goofily. Then, slowly, Noora closed off the distance between their bodies, and their lips. This time, it was much softer. Eva could taste strawberry lipstick and a bit of salty tears on Noora’s lips as they kissed lazily on the bed. They kept kissing as they undressed each other, stubbornly refusing to separate their lips even for one second, despite the added challenge. Eva removed Noora’s bra delicately and as she raised her hand towards her body, the door opened and a shout came from its direction, halting their movements.

‘Oh God No! My eyes!’ Isak screamed, turning around faster than humanly possible. ‘Please tell me you’re not fucking in my bed’ he added, pleadingly. From further down the apartment, a ‘OUR BED!’ came, to which Isak only groaned.

The girls bursted into laughter, Noora falling completely over Eva, incapable of supporting her body through their fit. ‘Oops?’ Eva said coyly, before laughing again. Isak muttered a ‘whatever’ before getting out and closing the door behind him.

Once they were finally able to calm down, the girls decided it might be best for everyone if they continued this Christmas celebration at Eva’s place. They quickly gathered their clothes and left the apartment under cheers from their friends who seemed to find a lot of enjoyment in the girls’ reunion.

That night, Eva and Noora, like young teenagers, fooled around, talked until the early morning hours and fell asleep in each other’s arms. The next morning (and every morning since) they woke up still embracing each other, content, full and, especially, no longer lonely .Two friends, a mind-blowing kiss and a misunderstanding.

#nooreva #noora sætre #eva mohn #skam #skamverse #alteradventcalendar

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brandyllyn · 3 years

Text

In our own image... (13)

Chapter 13

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 1800. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) Warnings: none.

Rey landed softly into a crouch, using a hand to stop her slide and looking up at Poe. The man grinned at her, holding his hands out in an invitation to hit him. She didn’t take it, stayed down while she scanned the area nearby.

They were in a small clearing at the edge of the forest. Away from the main thoroughfares but still on base. There wasn’t much nearby. A couple of chairs, a table, a crate, Finn. Seeing what she wanted her hand shot out, pulling with the Force and an empty mug knocked into the back of Poe’s head.

"Ow," he flinched at the contact, turning slightly and Rey moved, darting forward and sweeping her leg out. Poe went down. Hard.

"Oof," he gasped and Rey came to her feet, hands in a defensive position in front of her but Poe tapped the ground with one hand. "I’m out."

"Oh come on," Rey wheedled, watching as he sat up and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "I barely hit you."

"You cheated," he pointed at her, looking around and then picking the mug up. He threw it at her and she caught it with a smile. "You’re a cheating cheater and I want nothing to do with you."

"You never said I couldn’t use the Force," she pointed out as Poe rose to his feet.

"I thought it was a given," he complained.

"Quit whining," she tossed the mug to the side, using her powers to try and set it down gently. And she did, kind of. The mug rattled onto its side but it did land where she wanted it to. "Another round and I promise no use of the Force."

Poe narrowed his eyes. "No lightsaber either."

"Of course not," she scoffed.

Poe still looked skeptical. Finally he sighed, "Rather than looking for loopholes, how about we just agree hand to hand combat only?"

"What about legs?" Finn asked. He was sitting to the side, feet propped up on a table and eating from a handkerchief full of nuts. "Can you use legs and feet?"

Poe raised an eyebrow at her and Rey nodded. Poe sighed. "Okay, just… bodies."

Rey heard Finn snort but kept her eyes on Poe. He was sweating, eyeing her as they circled each other. As she watched, his hands came up to hover around his shoulders and neck, his body twisting slightly to the side. A boxing stance. She grinned to herself.

Rey darted in, hand out to punch just below his ribcage but he blocked the move, twisting so she went by him. She dodged the foot he stuck out, trying to trip her. They went back to circling each other.

"You’ve got a tell," he said conversationally.

"What? I do not," Rey objected.

"You do," he countered, "Right shoulder moves when-"

He never even changed tone, gave no hint that he was going to swing at her. A swift uppercut that she barely skirted, placing herself within his reach. He caught her, one hand grabbing her wrist and pulling her back against him with an arm across her chest. "Give up?"

"You wish," she grunted, throwing her hip back and using his arm to flip him to the ground in front of her.

He hit with a loud "Oomph," his feet kicking up for a second before he settled down. Then he was motionless.

"Give up?" Rey asked, cocking an eyebrow. She looked over at Finn who grinned, giving her a thumbs up back. She noticed they had drawn a crowd, a couple of other pilots standing nearby. She turned back to Poe and her cocky look faded. He hadn’t moved.

"Poe?" He was completely still. She watched, looking for the rise and fall of his chest. "Poe are you-" As soon as she was close enough his hand darted out, pulling her ankle out from under her and tossing her to the ground next to him. They scrambled to their feet at the same time. Poe grinning as he crouched a few feet from her.

"That’s cheating," Rey spluttered.

"Finn?" Poe called out.

"Fair," Finn called back, licking bits of salt from his fingers. "Only bodies."

Rey glared at Poe’s smug look. Then she saw an opportunity over his shoulder. "Oh, hey. Kina’s watching." Poe froze and Rey could tell he wanted to turn, to see if she was there. "Hey Kina," she called out, never taking her eyes off Poe.

When Kina whistled back a greeting Poe’s eyes drifted from Rey. Just for a second. But it was all the time Rey needed to slip under his guard and have him face-down in the dirt, one arm twisted up behind him. He tapped the ground immediately and she let him go.

"You fight dirty," he bit out, spitting dirt.

"I learned it from you," she smiled back, offering him a hand up. He took it, continuing to mutter at her as he brushed dirt off his white tank. Rey looked past him and saw Finn’s nose crinkling in amusement. The pilots, Karé and Pava, both looked like they were hiding a laugh, and Kina… she had a hand over her mouth and a look of horror on her face.

"Did Friend Rey use Friend Kina for evil?" BB-8 beeped solemnly.

"No," Rey replied quickly.

"Yes," Poe said at the same time, glaring at her and crossing over to give Kina a quick kiss. The woman’s hands rose to his shoulders, brushing dirt off of him while he slipped an arm around her waist. "She absolutely used you for evil and should be ashamed of herself."

Rey rolled her eyes, "I did not."

But Poe wasn’t listening to her, was too busy looking into Kina’s eyes and running a finger down her cheek and Rey looked away from them. They were… she wasn’t jealous. She really wasn’t. But she also kind of was? It would be nice to have someone look at her the way those two looked at each other.

"Either of you want to have a chance?" Rey asked the two pilots. She didn’t bother with Finn. The former stormtrooper flatly refused to fight her.

"Oh no," Karé spread her hands wide and backed away from Rey. "I like my bones where they are."

"Jessika?" Rey asked with a hopeful look but the other woman just laughed.

"After the last time? No thank you," Pava rolled her shoulders. "I could use a good spar but not with you. Commander?"

"Mhmm?" Poe called back absently. Rey sighed and sank into a chair next to Finn, stealing part of his snack and popping it in her mouth.

"Wanna spar Commander?" Pava called out.

"No thank you," Poe still hadn’t taken his eyes off Kina and Rey heard Finn fake a gag next to her.

She elbowed him hard. "Stop it, they’re cute," she whispered.

"They’re obnoxious," Finn whispered back.

"What about me?" BB-8 whistled and the entire group turned to look at the little droid.

"What?" Pava asked, befuddled.

"What about me? I could use a spar." It was more clear this time that it was Kina talking, BB-8 translating for her.

"I don’t know…" Pava looked from Kina to BB-8 to Poe, eyebrows raised.

But Kina stepped into the small clearing Poe and Rey had been using, pulling her shirt off and tossing it to the side. Her chest wrappings were tight and she swung her arms a couple of times as though testing her range of movement. "Scared?"

Pava glared at BB-8 before stepping into the clearing, pushing her flight suit down around her waist and tying the arms tight.

"What is happening?" Finn whispered.

"I don’t know. But I’m kind of turned on," Poe whispered back and then grunted when Karé elbowed him in the stomach.

He glared at her but she gave him an innocent look. "Commander?"

"We’ll talk about that later," he pointed at her and then turned to the two women who were slowly circling each other.

Kina whistled and BB-8 replied, "I understand Friend Kina."

More whistles from Kina, they sounded mocking. Rey looked down at BB-8 but the droid was quiet. Looking back at the two Rey noticed that Kina’s face was hard, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. Pava must have noticed it too because in the same moment both women went for the other.

"Dank ferrick," Poe breathed.

They had similar styles. Rey wondered what the fight would have been like if they didn’t. Dozens of short stabbing hits landed on soft fleshy parts, organs, nerves. She heard Pava yelp in pain before the woman twisted and kneed Kina on the inner thigh, making her leg bow sideways.

They separated, eyeing each other warily. Kina whistled again, sounding angry.

"I don’t understand you," Pava bit off and Rey saw blood welling on the woman’s lip.

Kina’s grin in return was feral and then they were on each other again. For a moment Rey thought Pava had her, thought the headlock the woman had on Kina was going to be the end. But Kina did something, a twist of her body and then she was the one who had Pava in a tight headlock. One hand wrapped over the fist of the arm around Pava’s throat. Pava made a strangling noise, tapping Kina’s arm.

Kina didn’t move.

"Poe?" Rey asked warily, taking a step towards the pair.

"Shit," the man replied, striding into the clearing. He hooked his arms under Kina’s, forcing his hands between the droidsmith and Pava and then jerking her away. "Let her go, it’s done."

Rey gave them a concerned look but strode past them, kneeling to check on Pava who was rubbing her neck but looked otherwise okay. "What the hell?"

"I don’t know," Rey replied, looking over to where Poe was holding a struggling Kina. His arms were wrapped under hers and his hand locked behind her head - pressing the woman’s back to his chest. He was talking to her, but Rey couldn’t hear them. Whatever it was, Kina continued to fight him.

BB-8 was beeping and whistling wildly, spinning circles around the pair. "Friend Kina no. No Friend Kina. Stop!"

K-0 darted in - ramming Poe’s ankles and repeating, "Bad man," over and over. If the situation hadn’t been so serious Rey might have laughed.

"I knew she didn’t like me," Pava croaked, rubbing her throat. "Didn’t think she was murderous about it."

Rey held a hand out to the woman, helping her to her feet. "I don’t know," she raised an eyebrow at Poe who looked as confused as she felt. "I think this is bigger than you."

"Go," Poe barked, jerking Kina’s arms down and adjusting his grip. "Lieutenant Pava check in at med."

"I’m fine," the pilot started but a hard look from Poe silenced her. "Yes sir."

Rey watched Poe frog-march Kina into the trees, out of sight. She considered following them but felt a hand on her arm.

"Let them work it out first," Finn cautioned and Rey nodded. Instead, they walked with Pava and Karé to med.

"Bet you wish now you’d sparred with me," Rey said after a silent minute.

"Noted. I’ll remember for next time," Pava replied with a hoarse laugh.

Chpt 14

#in our own image #poe dameron x ofc #poe dameron/ ofc #star wars sequels #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

The Sabotage of Simkung House - Part 3

[Stray Kids Multi Fic - 20Min Read/5.8K Words - Hyunjin x Female Reader - Non-Idol!au, Variety!au - NSFW/Smut, Plot - Reverse Harems, Variety Shows, Unfolding Plot, Panty Stealing, Noona Kink, Femdom, Brat Taming, Dom/Sub Elements, Secret Hook-Ups]

Hyunjin was a troublemaker. You hadn’t noticed it before, but it was abundantly clear now that you were finally taking a morning to make up the beds. The boys were expectedly possessive of their rooms as they were their only “private” spaces on set, but with each passing day you could tell at least two of the three bedrooms were growing musky, the worst of which belonged to the two youngest cast members. They clearly weren’t cleaning, and they clearly weren't giving you all their laundry. In fact, only a couple of the cast were giving you everything. Minho and Changbin were currently taking turns setting their laundry downstairs for you from their shared room, and those were the only pairs of socks and underwear you’d seen since filming began. Clearly, the other boys were doing half their own laundry. Whether from pride or privacy, you have no clue, but, nonetheless, this allowed an opportunity for Hyunjin to account for one pair of your missing panties, laid out perfectly flat under his pillow.

It was suspicious. The panties were still clean, still smelling of laundry soap with no hints of debauchery other than the fact that they currently weren’t in your own room. In fact, you’d found them solely because a hint of lace had peeked out from under Hyunjin’s pillow. You were meant to see this. So what were you to do? You set about cleaning the rest of the room, the lion’s share of the mess belonging to Jisung, and set about formulating your game plan.

You tugged and patted the sheets on Jisung's bed flat, instantly satisfied as the room looked better overall, even with just the beds made, when you nearly tripped on a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Another peek of lace was barely noticeable in the tangle of clothes. You gently pried the rest of the pile up, not wanting to disturb where the panties had been left, just like you left the pair Hyunjin stole supposedly untouched under his pillow. These, however, were decidedly used. You weren’t disgusted -- it wasn’t like the entire pair was a solidified mess -- but the delicate fabric was clearly crumpled and hidden after Jisung had finished being “inspired” by them. Unlike Hyunjin, he absolutely did not want you to find these.

So the wheels in your head turned a little differently now, perhaps a little more efficiently. Both boys had stolen your panties, but were they working together? You doubted it, considering the two seemed to only tolerate each other's presence on set. The duo constantly bickered, hardly ever studying together or working together for challenges. They only ended up as roommates because Chan got his own room and Minho and Changbin “chose” to room together because they were the next oldest. Otherwise, Jisung detested Hyunjin’s prim and snobbish persona, while Hyunjin constantly picked over Jisung’s perfectionist streak and clumsy tendencies. Nevertheless, yet more reconnaissance needed to be done.

You headed downstairs, looking busy with your duster and sprucing up as you surreptitiously looked for the boys. They were once again mysteriously missing, before you caught noise down the hall in the study. You neared the door, surprised as it opened almost right into your face. Chan and the other boys stared at you from behind him.

“Secret meeting?” You chuckled lightly.

“Studying,” Chan clarified, shrugging past you and into the hall. The boys followed suit, and as Hyunjin passed you, you noticed just how tall he was, but maybe that was because of how he looked right down at you. You looked up through your eyelashes at him in time to catch his smirk. That energy felt dangerous -- if everything was going to go your way, you had to be in control. That's why Chan wasn't even on your radar aside from avoiding him, and that was definitely why you needed to take your time and be careful around Hyunjin for now. You turned to leave, pausing as you noticed Jisung still inside, still sitting in the large easy chair by the tall shelves lining the walls.

Really, you hadn't been able to get much of a read on Jisung. He'd been quiet the first couple days of filming, but once he warmed up to the cast he wouldn't shut up. That is, except for you and the other staff cast and even a good chunk of the crew. Jisung barely looked up from the book he was holding as he continued to scribble notes in his lap, eyeing you carefully as you casually entered the room and went about dusting and sprucing up. You tried to think of something, anything to break the ice, when you finally noticed what he was reading. The wheels cranked in your head.

“Is that… Is that 3.5 edition?” You asked curiously, tilting your head to see the cover better. Jisung jolted, surprised at your attention and drawing his knees up just the smallest bit, as if he was covering up from your prying eyes. You chuckled apologetically. “Sorry, I couldn't help but notice. Why not 5th edition? Don't you like the balancing?”

“You play, noona?” He asked warily. He adjusted his glasses on his nose before pulling them off altogether and habitually nibbling on the end of the plastic arm. You shrugged, as if establishing any sort of familiarity with him wasn't imperative to make your plan happen.

“Sure. It's been a long time, but I play.”

You didn't. You'd had a short-lived stint with a DM just after college, back when you used to hustle for spare cash, who allowed you to sit in on his planning and play sessions, but you'd learned he was frankly terrible at it when you consulted his manuals yourself. Your friend Duckie had teased you relentlessly for days for letting a neckbeard relegate you to arm candy, and you frankly never lived it down between the two of you.

Jisung sighed and set the manual closed on his lap. It looked like you'd been granted an answer. “Somehow, I mentioned tabletop gaming once and the guys all pushed it because none of them have tried it, and I said no, so the producers told me this morning that we're doing it, so we're doing it. Setting up a one-shot on short notice is a nightmare, so I grabbed my manual. I only brought it because I'm developing my campaign to pick back up when filming is over.”

You smiled sympathetically as you continued dusting. “Are they doing their own character sheets?”

“Oh, god, no,”Jisung laughed, shaking his head. He really was cute. You just wished you didn't also know his room was a damn mess and that he was a panty thief. “I'm doing it for them and I'm trying to make this whole thing easy.”

“That's really cool,” you said sincerely as you continued cleaning, silently applauding the bashful blush in his cheeks, “it sounds like you really know what you're doing.”

“Thanks, noona,” he replied meekly. Jisung watched as you accidentally flung a cloud of dust off a high shelf and you looked up, sputtering and coughing as you caught a glimpse of the offender: a large vase, its gleam dulled by dust. You hopped at it, trying to reach the vase with your duster.

“Jisung,” you called over your shoulder, “can you please help me reach this?” Jisung nodded, setting his book and notes down as he got up. He strode over, sizing you up against the bookshelves before he simply grabbed your duster from your hands and did it himself. You leaned against the bookshelf, between the hardwood and him, watching him and deciding now was as good a time as any to plant a seed.

“Jisung,” you began, catching his eyes comically widening as he noticed how close you were, “be careful when you take care of your own laundry, alright? I noticed I was missing some things so I'd hate to think you boys are getting all your laundry mixed up.”

His hand wavered where he was intently dusting, almost damn near knocking over the vase. You scanned the room: there were three more vases just like this. “You're missing some things, noona?”

You nodded. “Weird, right? I'd die if something of mine ended up in one of your baskets by accident,” you laughed, startled as Jisung quickly finished and handed you back your duster.

“Really weird, noona, I hope you find your stuff,” he babbled as he scrambled back to the other side of the room and grabbed his things from his chair, “wouldn’t it be easier for you to reach if you had a stepstool? I swear I saw one in the hall closet. I’ll just go get it for you--”

And he was out the door, walking more like a sprint down the hallway. You stared, your developing plans dashed. Jisung didn't return. It wasn't like you waited a crazy amount of time, but more than enough that you knew you'd scared him off instead of inviting him. Nevertheless, a plan was still forming -- Jisung was more nervous than he let on, but that didn't mean he couldn't be encouraged.

You worked your way through the house, cleaning and taking care of chores when you noticed some dishes outside on the patio table. Sliding open the glass door, you set about picking up dishes when you heard a quiet snicker behind you. You were so wrapped up in your own thoughts that a surprised gasp escaped you before you could even whip around and promptly land on your ass, unaware that you hadn't been alone. Even though you hadn't seen anyone out here at first, the large house opened up to its patio from the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen, but each door and window seemed to have their own blind spots, apparently. You looked up to see Hyunjin smirking to himself as he read a book, reclined on a lounge chair in the warm afternoon sun. He looked up, an amused grin spread on his face as he set his book down and trotted over to offer you a hand up.

“I'm sorry, noona, did I surprise you?”

You sighed with a laugh as you dusted yourself off. “A little, Hyunjin, but I'm alright.”

“I'm glad. Actually, noona, while I have you here, can I ask you a question?” It wasn't surprising that Hyunjin was so cordial and charming -- dashing, even -- but you didn't trust it at this moment. Something in his smile was mischievous. Nonetheless, you nodded. “What did you study in school?”

“Who says I went to school?” You smirked.

“Chan-hyung,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “He mentioned you seemed much smarter than you let on. I figured you’ve just been modest.”

Holy shit, you pondered, hoping Hyunjin wasn’t noticing your hard blink, what kind of conspiracy has he been building? By now it felt apparent that Chan wasn’t just concerned with you trying to sleep with him or any of the cast for that matter. This wasn’t just playing aloof or hard to get, he actively appeared to despise you.

“I’m just wondering because I was curious how your family feels about your acting.” Hyunjin continued, pulling you out of your plotting.

“Well then, yes,” you sighed, “I went to school. And not for acting. And my family doesn’t know. I mean, they know I'm interested and enjoy it, but they don’t know everything.” That was true. Your family knew you’d taken bit parts in dramas and commercials, but they had no idea about the show and certainly no idea about your more known acting credits. Why should they fall victim to that inevitable disappointment?

“Ah,” Hyunjin shook his head with a reluctant laugh, “then maybe there’s no hope for me.”

“So your parents don’t know?”

“Of course not!” He chuckled. “My father is a lawyer and my mother is an architect. Guess how I disappointed both of them?” He waited for your patient shrug. “Studying statistical psychology. I loved it, and they hated that I loved it. So I joined the theatre club at school on a whim to start taking my mind off switching majors, try something new, and now I love this. So they definitely can’t know about that either, or they’ll take it away, too.”

“I’m sorry you have to hide this special thing from your parents,” you sympathized as you resumed stacking dishes on the patio table. In your own way, you truly did understand where Hyunjin was coming from -- it was exciting to be proud of your path, but it always hurt to hide it from people you loved.

“It’s alright,” Hyunjin sighed with a small smile. “If I can be candid, noona, that’s what sort of drew me to you. I was thinking of school and home, and you reminded me of someone, a mentor I had back in the theatre club.”

“Oh yeah?” You humored him, eyeing his feet when he stepped closer. You took a cautious step back.

“Definitely,” he nodded, stepping forward again. “She had this quiet air that she knew plenty more than she let on.”

“Must’ve been a great teacher,” you placated, taking another step back with your stack of dishes. Hyunjin pressed forward once again, his toes only inches from yours.

“She was,” he smirked, “She taught me everything I know.”

You took a firm step back towards the door and Hyunjin stopped in his tracks the moment your fingers touched the handle. “I’m sorry I interrupted you,” you smiled demurely, “I should get back to work.”

“Noona,” he called after you, his playful tone making you stop in the middle of you turning into the opened door, “I meant to tell you something. Be mindful of the laundry, please; I noticed some things in my basket that don't belong to me.”

You stepped through the door and briskly rushed into the kitchen to tend to the dishes, thrusting your hands under the hot water as you vigorously scrubbed. That tricky little pervert.

The fact that Hyunjin could knock you off center like that was troubling. You would never feel confident about your progress if you let him take control like that again.

You began your next morning with a fire in you, ready to make the progress you were too off-kilter to make the previous day. This meant, of course, fetching something from Hyunjin’s room.

The hall to the boys’ rooms was silent as you neared Hyunjin’s door, the cast all outside working out and doing yoga, so you simply turned the knob and walked inside.

Your sharp gasp matched Jisung’s as he promptly fell off the bed, cocooned in his blanket.

“Jisung, I'm so sorry!” You blurted from under your hands covering your eyes, “I thought you were outside with the others!”

“Noona!” Jisung groaned as he unfolded himself from the floor. A cursory glance through your fingers let you notice the pile of clothes at the foot of his bed had been dismantled. “I was still sleeping! I thought the others were still getting ready.” Sure enough, Jisung freed himself from his blanket but deftly snuck his hand underneath to adjust himself as you finally released your eyes. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I've been making the beds and grabbing your laundry in the morning now,” you sighed, “some of you boys are pretty messy.”

Jisung looked at his half of the room, littered in socks and books and notes, and his cheeks reddened even more. He watched as you helped yourself to fixing Hyunjin’s bed, surreptitiously snatching your panties from under his pillow and shoving them in your apron as you patted the sheets flat. You whirled around, trying to match Jisung’s level of flustered as you apologized.

“I'm sorry for waking you up,” you said sheepishly, “I'll let the others know you’re coming.”

You rushed out of the room just as he did from the study the day before and set about the rest of your day once you were out of sight before Seungmin caught up with you. “Not working out today, noona?”

“Afraid not, Min,” you smiled warmly, “lots to do.”

“Are you making the beds now, too? Hyunjin mentioned it this morning.”

You nodded as you continued down the hall. “Why not? Their rooms could use some tidying. It’s small but it’s helpful.”

“That’s very considerate of you noona, let me know if you need anything.” Seungmin smiled and waved goodbye as he headed back up one more level to the attic.

Your plan was exceedingly simple: you would ignore Hyunjin for a whole day -- and more, if he could manage -- before making any forward moves, except for one. He'd been so readily forward with you that it seemed reasonable to predict that this was Hyunjin’s usual tactic, to be handsome and dashing and silver-tongued enough to easily land any of his conquests. Really, that was probably why he turned to AV’s in the first place. With how he looked at you, he thought you were putty in his hands and, frankly, the assumption drove you crazy.

What you didn't expect, however, was for your simple plan to be instantly effective. After scampering away to tell the boys Jisung was on his way downstairs, it was easy to pay more attention to Changbin and Minho -- who easily smiled and joked and socialized with you whenever you were around now -- even with Chan eyeing you suspiciously in the corner. You barely regarded Hyunjin’s attempt to give you a knowing look. It wasn’t like you could flat-out ignore him right off the bat. He had to notice. You were careful to not look sheepish or bashful when you did make eye contact, wanting to be sure to make him feel more conflicted about his previous perception of you.

That afternoon, while you waited off to the side during filming, you brushed right past Hyunjin’s sly smile and sauntered up to Changbin again, playfully patting down a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. Hyunjin’s attention was piqued as you doled out all this personal attention to almost anyone except him over the course of the day, and you applauded yourself as you saw him try more and more to get in your eyeline. Later, during a break, he caught you hanging out with Minho in the kitchen, fiddling with his earrings.

“I didn’t know your ears were pierced,” you cutely prodded, dutifully ignoring Hyunjin as he hung out near the fridge and close to your conversation. Minho jumped and grabbed at them.

“I forgot I had them on!” He jovially whined. “Oh my god I've had them on all day, I'm surprised I didn't get reamed for this.”

“I do, too. Almost all of us have our ears pierced,” Hyunjin interjected, “Chan-hyung isn’t even--”

“You hide your earrings?” You asked Minho curiously. Hyunjin silently steamed on the other side of the kitchen.

“Of course,” Minho nodded, “they signed us to look studious. None of us are supposed to look super cool or anything.”

“That’s too bad,” you pouted, “they look good on you.” You checked the time on your phone and stretched out a little. “Shouldn’t we be getting back?” The boys both nodded, but you still only looked at Minho and followed him out, passing by Hyunjin looking almost offended at how you could dare ignore him. You brushed past, surreptitiously slipping the reclaimed pair of panties out of your apron and into Hyunjin’s blazer pocket on your way out the door and down the hall.

Finally, at the end of formal filming for the day, you headed upstairs to return your pages once the crew cleared out. You made sure your mic was unclipped and back in its cradle, and checked the big calendar hung on the wall for any big developments in the daytime show for the week when a creak on the stairs startled you. Looking up, you were faced with Chan staring at you from the door.

“Looking for something?” You asked casually.

“No, just you,” he said as he stepped into the room. “What’s your angle here?”

“Angle?”

“Don’t be dumb,” Chan shook his head, “what are you trying to do here? I've been watching you all day, all week -- you’re doing something more than just the show.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you carefully fired back, “so I’d appreciate it if you’d care to explain where you got these big presumptions from.”

“Come on! All this extra screentime?” Chan reeled as he quietly shut the attic door behind him. “Look, I don’t know how many of the guys recognize you, but I do, alright? I didn’t think you were taking a break to try and make it big, and if I had thought you were then I definitely wouldn't have expected to see you here. What are you doing? Are you trying to get attention from other producers watching the show?”

You stared back, arms folded indignantly. “What, am I not good enough?”

“No, it’s not that,” he babbled, “I just know--”

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit what you know,” you snapped, “and I definitely don't appreciate you trying to accuse me of trying to get anything more than what I signed for. Sorry if it seems like I'm fighting for more screentime.” You turned your nose up, bumping past Chan on your way back downstairs. Honestly, getting him was going to be the most grueling part of this whole concept. You quickly texted Felix when you escaped to your room.

> How many of the guys know who I am?

>> None, but who doesn’t lie about watching porn?

>Can I get a meeting? I'm feeling pretty antsy.

>>Sorry Shining Star, emergencies only. Gotta preserve the atmosphere. But I'll let the Big Boss know how you’re feeling. You got this.

You sighed, feeling a bit ruffled with how weird this was getting. Would tonight be a good night for a break? You figured if there would be any, then it would be tonight, just trying to get your head back in order and ready to tackle everything the next day. Some dinner and then bed and you would be good to go.

Passing through the main floor to the kitchen, you heard a commotion coming from the study. Thinking back, this was probably the night of Jisung’s campaign. In a small way, you were excited for him, hoping all the guys were being open and receptive and having fun. A hand shot out from around the corner, startling you and pulling you into the alcove of the dining room door. Hyunjin’s lips were on yours the moment he pulled you against him where he was pressed against the wall, his tongue hot in your mouth and his exhales almost resembling low groans as he kissed you. Your fists beat against his chest to push him back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You demanded, your hushed tone still sharp against his mischievous grin.

“You know, beautiful, I loved my surprise but it's not a present if I stole them in the first place. Maybe I can get a replacement?”

“You mean ‘noona,’” you growled, “and is that supposed to work on me?” The quixotic sparkle in Hyunjin’s eye disappeared.

“You're a bit of a bitch, noona, you know that?”

His glare shattered as you laughed meanly at him. “And you're a bit of a brat. Boys like you only call women bitches when they can't get what they want.”

“Well, as a big fan, maybe I just wanted what I've been fantasizing about.” Hyunjin stared hard at you, challenging you with his admission, the hungry edge to his look remaining even as he was surprised to see you relax in his grip. His eyes widened for just a moment as you gently cupped his face, but both your expressions changed when you pinched his pierced earlobe and tugged him close. You smiled at his shock as you punted open the swinging dining room door and dragged Hyunjin inside like a guilty schoolboy. Approaching the handsome dining table, you yanked him down to bend over it as you searched his blazer pockets, savoring his struggling grunts.

“So you recognized me on the first day?” You interrogated.

“Yes,” Hyunjin laughed against the table, “I couldn't believe I was so lucky.”

“Then what exactly have you been fantasizing about?”

“I just want to see for myself,” he smirked, “see if you're as sexy in real life. I want to see if you really cum like that. Didn't expect you to be so rough.”

“I'm only rough with brats who think they can just take me,” you reviled as you found what you were looking for. You reached a foot over to slide out a chair before twisting him around to push him onto it. Hyunjin looked up at you expectantly as you stood, the panties you grabbed balled in one fist on your hip, your other hand reaching to play with his earrings again. “You didn't tell me you had pierced ears,” you provokingly laughed as he agitatedly tried to smack your hand away. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“God, you really are such a bitch,” Hyunjin grimaced.

“Not much of a prince off-camera, are you?” You sneered, tugging on his ear again and taking notice that even while Hyunjin tried to stop that, he hadn't made any other attempts to make you leave him alone or stop you. He still looked up at you, anticipating your next move.

“Come on, baby,” he laughed breathlessly, “you don’t -- hey!”

Hyunjin gasped as you tugged on the collar of his shirt, slung the panties in your hand over his head, and down around his neck. Twisting the fabric in your fist as you pulled him close, you had a chance to tangle your fingers into his hair, firmly yanking him back against your hold. He watched, eyes glued to you as you manhandled him to sit up straight in the chair.

“Manners, brat,” you smirked, “you're supposed to respect your elders.”

“Noona, I --” Hyunjin yelped as you stepped between his feet, one of your knees raised to rest on his cock, hard in his slacks.

“So close, but you're still so dumb. Apologize first.”

“I’m sorry, noona,” he gulped, his quiet plea dry and cautious. “I want you so much.”

“Is that why you ambushed me like a little pervert?” You scolded him, only pulling back on the attitude once you saw a shine of intimidation in his eyes. “Hyunjin,” you soothed, letting go of your improvised hold around his neck to cup his face, “I can stop.”

And Hyunjin smirked as he shook his head, the saccharine smile coming right back. Atta boy. “No, noona, I ‘ambushed’ you because I knew I could.”

“Disgusting,” you grinned, “I bet you wouldn’t even know what to do with me if you had me.”

Hyunjin got up now, pushing you back and standing over you as he herded you onto the dinner table.

“You think so?” He challenged arrogantly as his eager hands shoved your skirt up around your hips.

“I know so, brat,” you laughed as you smacked his hands off of you. He gasped out a moan as you groped his erection through his slacks. “I bet you don't even know how to use this. Any trust fund baby you’ve fucked has probably worshipped it without knowing any better.”

“Then let me show you,” he insisted through gritted teeth, quickly unzipping and exposing his long cock in his grip. You hazarded a glance -- an open mistake, judging by Hyunjin’s valiantly cocky grin. “Don’t you like it? Don’t you want it, noona?”

“God, you’re so insufferable,” you rolled your eyes as you watched him brazenly stroke his length, “you’ve never had someone refuse you, have you?”

“Never,” he smiled, “and I'm not about to start.” Hyunjin made a boldly stupid move as he got his hands under your thighs to pull you against him where you sat back on the table, only apparent to him once you shoved a foot in his way to hold him off of you.

“You think you deserve it?” You raised a dubious eyebrow at him, catching his eyes glued to your breasts as you slowly unbuttoned your blouse and revealed the lace bra underneath. He gulped, barely nodding as you raised the hem of your skirt just a little more, showing off the matching panties barely covering your damp pussy. “Say it, stupid, if you’re so sure of yourself.”

“I deserve it, noona,” Hyunjin breathed, pushing against your foot digging into his hip. He watched as you slowly let him fall against you, a deep groan erupting from his throat as the head of his cock prodded against your entrance.

“Prove it,” you demanded, and let Hyunjin sink into you as you gripped onto the panties around his neck once again. Hyunjin exhaled hard at the sensation of your depths squeezing his length, and you held back from reacting for him with every fiber of your being.

In truth, Hyunjin's cock felt amazing, and his moans sounded so sweet in your ear as he fucked you on the dinner table. That was the real difference you were noticing -- Hyunjin had almost no inhibitions about his own moans, they were nearly unabashed as he thrust into you, and you could feel every nuance in tandem with his wandering hands on your breasts or in your hair or gripping onto your ass. Honestly, if he wanted to pursue this, he could probably make a decent living with AV’s. You admired the way he could enter this headspace on camera, could be this vulnerable even when you weren’t truly alone.

“How is it?” You purred, forcing yourself out of your reverie.

“It's perfect,” Hyunjin spat, his hips still thrusting hard enough against you to make the dining table rock and creak. “Isn't it?”

“Well, I'm not too sure,” you teasingly sighed.

“What?! Why the fuck not?”

“All this work and no extra effort to make me cum,” you shrugged with a smile, “you are convincing me to look into selling sex toys, though.”

“You're a rotten bitch,” Hyunjin growled under his breath.

“And you're a spoiled brat,” you smirked as you leaned up to kiss his lips, noting when he did nothing but kiss back and take your continuous bait. “You said you deserve it but you haven't proven it yet.”

Hyunjin scoffed and dragged his lips to your neck, to the crook of your shoulder exposed by your open blouse, his teeth finding purchase and clamping down. His cock surged within you as you finally let out a tepid moan. He stood up straight, looking renewed at the small reward you supplied. The wheels in his head visibly turned as he started looking for more ways to make you moan and gasp for him, finally leaning you back on the table to stroke your clit with the pad of his thumb with one of your ankles slung over his shoulder. His moans grew more ragged as yours grew more intense, and your fingers gripped on the panties wrapped around Hyunjin’s neck like a leash. “Say it,” he pleaded.

“Say what, brat?” You mewled.

“Tell me I deserve it. Tell me I'm going to make you cum.”

“Hyunjin,” you nodded desperately, catching his attention and making him buck harder into you, “you’re going to make me cum.”

“And I deserve it?”

“Yes,” you gasped, “you deserve it.”

And just at the utterance of those words, Hyunjin gripped your hips hard as he came, beating you by just a second as you cried out and clutched onto his hands.

Hyunjin collapsed onto you, breathing hard, his hair smelling of conditioner and sweat as he recovered, and you absently caught yourself rubbing his back before you snatched your hand back. You eased him out of you and pushed him back onto the chair you’d pulled out and he slouched, boneless and dazed. He barely noticed as you sat up and tugged off your scant panties.

“What a lucky fan,” you simpered as you got up, setting these around his neck before plucking off the stolen pair. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his temple as you slipped on the clean panties under your skirt and smoothed it out. “Did your mentor teach you that?”

Hyunjin shook his head with a breathless smile. “No, but I'm a quick learner.” He squeezed your hand that had somehow landed on his shoulder as he glanced down at the garment strung around his neck. “What’re these for?”

“You deserve them,” you laughed, “now don’t make things weird around set.”

“Or what? We’ll have to do this again?” Hyunjin playfully challenged as you pushed open the swinging door. “Who knows, maybe I'll quit acting and start doing what you do. Maybe teach you a thing or two.”

You left, but something about Hyunjin’s comment ate at you as you descended the stairs. That is, until you noticed Chan poking his head into the laundry room. You quietly approached before giving a polite cough behind him, making him jump.

“Noona!” Chan exclaimed, a small bundle of laundry in his arms. “I was, er, looking for you. I was wondering if you’d seen Hyunjin. He left to get something to eat after he got killed off in Jisung’s campaign.”

“Hyunjin was feeling a bit worn out,” you improvised. “He’s upstairs sleeping. Didn’t you check up there?”

Chan shifted uncomfortably, “Of course. The lights were off, though, so I must not have seen him.”

“Right,” you nodded dubiously, eyeing the small bundle of laundry in Chan’s hands, “is that for me?”

“What, this? Uh, of course, that’s why I was looking for you.”

You bluntly grabbed the clothes out of Chan’s hands and stepped around him into the laundry room. “Thank you for bringing your clothes down. Goodnight, Chan,” you nodded tersely.

“Goodnight, noona.”

You sighed as you listened for Chan’s footsteps to ascend the stairs before you relaxed onto a footstool in the corner of the small room. Something felt weird. Minho’s comment. Changbin’s comment. Now Hyunjin's comment. Tiny little weird comments were building up and squeezing your stomach into knots. You couldn't talk to the producer, you couldn't talk to Felix, so who could knock some sense into you? Finally, you pulled your phone out of your apron and opened your DM’s, scrolling down to Duckie’s name. His profile picture was new: another in a long line of faceless shots, only now with his defined chest peeking out from an open hoodie and your necklace in plain view. Your stomach squeezed again. It'd been weeks since you talked by now.

>Hey, you free right now?

>>Hey! I was wondering where you are. I'm free I'm just relaxing after work.

>You ever get a really weird feeling on a set?

>>Weird like what?

[To be continued.]

#skzsmutnet #kprose-net #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #please read description

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mosylufanfic · 4 years

Text

A Year and a Day

This is for the Killervibe Week Theme Arranged Marriage! (oof I love me an arranged marriage fic)

A Year and a Day

The party broke up early, as these things went. Generally handfast parties went into the wee hours of the morning, but the second moon had barely risen by the time people started drifting out of the town hall and back to their houses.

Of course, Cisco thought, looking across the room at his bride, this wasn't your normal handfasting.

Caitlin Snow had taken his hand and recited the vows without any dramatics, but also without any enthusiasm, and when the ceremony was over, she'd dropped it and turned away. She'd spent pretty much the entire party with her crew, and the whole table had deflected any attempts on the part of the colonists to get to know them.

Great.

Usually handfast parties were a welcome for the new colonist, a chance for them to meet and bond with the people who would be their lifelong neighbors if all went well. But this one had made it clear she only intended to stick around long enough to qualify for permanent citizenship, and then she'd be back on her ship and breaking atmo the first chance she got.

Of course, he'd see her again after that. She was half-owner of the ship that loomed in the moonlight on the edge of town. Now that it was owned by a colonial citizen, it was automatically registered to the colony and would be making runs for them. But it would come back only a few times a year, and he had his doubts she'd seek him out.

They just had to get through the handfast year first.

"Thanks for doing this," Barry said at his side.

He grabbed a bun as the tray went past and bit into it with only a hint of savagery. "You asked," he said through the mouthful of bun.

And Barry had asked him, even though he'd handfasted twice already, because Captain Tannhauser had flatly refused the idea of sacrificing her first mate for the entire year, so Cisco would be making some trips on the Snowfall. He was one of the few people in the colony who could be spared for a week or a month at a time as the ship sailed the lightyears between systems.

"Hey, you'll get to see some of the galaxy," Barry said.

Cisco looked out at the window at the ship. "Yeah," he muttered. "In a tin can."

He'd never left the Trappist colonies, never been to the Kepler system or the Teegarden system or even back to the Terran system, which everyone still called home even if they'd never seen it. Yeah, he might have wondered what was out there, but he had a life here. And he liked it.

"It's just a year," Barry said.

"I know," he replied and let out a sigh. "I know."

He left Barry and went walking over to the table where his bride sat. Caitlin Snow, part-owner, first mate, and ship’s medic of the Snowfall, a year older than him, and in the eyes of the Terran government, his wife.

Unless they screwed up and managed to get this marriage nullified before the year was out. Then she'd lose her citizenship and the colony would have to pay not only all the fees and taxes for a new, unattached colonist, but also late fines. And after the past few years, they didn't have that kind of money. Not to mention they'd lose access to the Snowfall and have to start hiring out cargo haulers from the inner systems again, at twice the rate the Snowfall charged.

"Hey," he said, and the crew turned to look at him. He cleared his throat. "Long day, right? You want to, uh, to go get settled in?"

They all stared at him for a moment, and he thought, Shit, I didn't threaten to ravish her! I just want to show her my house! You know? Where she's going to live for the next year?

Then the captain nodded sharply. "We should get started loading her up. The McGee settlement on Trappist-e expects us by tomorrow evening."

"Yep," Cisco said. "Everything's out on the dock, labeled and ready for you."

The captain nodded again, her face rather cold. As if that had been a signal, the crew got to their feet and started filing out. A few of them touched Caitlin's shoulder and one pretty, dark-skinned woman squeezed her hand. Cisco noted that she squeezed back. A friend? A lover? Would she even tell him?

Finally, it was only the captain and Caitlin standing there, face-to-expressionless-face.

"Clear skies, Caitlin," the captain said.

"Smooth landings, Mom," Caitlin said.

The captain nodded one last time and walked out the door, following the rest of her crew. Caitlin reached down and picked up a plain black rucksack, slinging it over her shoulder. "Where are we going?" she said.

"Uh, my house," Cisco said, gesturing vaguely. "That way down the street."

She marched out the door, turning her face away from the crew walking up the street toward the Snowfall.

He fell into step with her. Normally, he'd be pointing things out - that's the botany center, that's the recreation center, there's the greenhouses, there's the library, there’s the clinic where you’ll work . . . but she didn't seem interested. The silence fell between them and until he found himself blurting, "That's your mom?"

"What?"

"Captain Tannhauser. You called her Mom."

"Yes," she said. "You didn't know that?"

He'd missed it somehow. Of course, Barry had made all the arrangements, Cisco just had to show up. "Well, you have different last names."

"Snow was my dad's name."

"Are you two always so - " He broke off.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Are we always so what?"

"I mean, it's a pretty big day, and she's leaving the planet. Like, now. You're not going to see her for a couple of weeks, easy. But you acted like you were saying goodbye to a co-worker you didn't like that much."

"We're not given to histrionics," she said.

He was so busy gaping at her that he almost missed his own house. "Oh, whoa, whoa, hey! This is me. Right here. My house."

She swiveled and backtracked the couple of steps she'd taken past his front door. He tapped the button and the door swished open. He spread his arms. "Home sweet home."

She stepped inside and looked around.

It wasn't a big house. It wasn't like the ones he read about in old books from Earth, or the year-old holomovies they got out here. Those houses with glimmering smartglass walls and floating beds, 'bot maids and house computers that anticipated your every need. But it was his. He'd painted the walls, built the furniture, woven the rugs on the floors.

But she'd been so many places. Seen so much. And she was looking around his house without any expression whatsoever.

"So it's - so this is the front room," he said. "Couch, there, very comfy for afternoon naps. That wall over there is where I project stuff. Holos and files and whatever." He reached in his pocket and tossed his comm on the glass-covered table. "This is the charging table. Hooked up to the solars on the roof but it's got a good battery. Kitchen right over there. My chiller. Not big, I know, but I get a lot of fresh ingredients, seasonal, so I don't need much storage. Uh. You like to cook?"

She blinked. Said, "I don't know how."

She didn't know how to cook?

"Okay," he said. "Well." He turned away from the kitchen. "So here are the other rooms. My lab, first, here." He patted the first door on the right.

"Your lab?"

"I build things. It's kind of - it's my deal. I build things. It's a mess right now so I'm not going to give you the tour. You can check it out later if you want, I'm not precious. Just don't mess with anything or I'll have to go all Bluebeard on you."

She looked at him blankly.

"It's this story - okay. Never mind." Clearly she didn't share his taste for antiquated Terran mythology. "Okay, so, bathroom here. I cleared off a shelf for you to put your - " He eyed her rucksack. Did she have anything in it? "- your, you know, bathroom stuff."

She ignored the shelf in favor of staring at the shower stall. Maybe it was too small for her. He cleared his throat. "This time of year we get more hot water because the pipes are all laid along the roofs and they get the sun on the way in. But during the rainy season, we're all limited to ten minutes because otherwise it's cold showers for half the town."

She nodded.

"Right," he said. "Okay, so to continue your tour - " He led the way out of the bathroom and to the door directly across the hall. He hit the button. "This one here is my bedroom. Tada."

She walked in, setting her pack on the bed.

"Whoa! Hey, what are you doing?"

"Getting unpacked," she said. She frowned at the bed and unzipped her bag.

"No! No. Oh my god. You're not sleeping here."

She turned her frown on him. "You said it was your bedroom."

"Yeah, mine! Not yours. You don't have to share with me." He stepped back and pointed at the last door. "There. That's your room. There."

She picked up her rucksack again, following him to the door as he opened it for her. She didn't make any move to go in. "This is where I'll sleep?"

"Yeah. It's all ready for you, sheets on the bed and everything." He gestured as he spoke. "Uh, you got your charging table here, some shelves, right, put whatever you want. The closet, obviously, hah. The window opens if you like to sleep with some night air. I oiled the latches."

The room was the same size as his lab and his own bedroom. But it looked plain and small, suddenly.

"You can do whatever you want to it while you're here," he said quickly. “Paint, pictures - Allegra got really into weaving, and like textiles? She had literal tapestries up. It was wild. She took them all with her when she moved out."

"Who's Allegra?"

"My last handfast. You might have met her tonight."

"You've been married before?"

"It's not a marriage," he said. "It's a handfast. This isn't forever." He stepped back. "I'll let you get settled in."

This house was huge.

Caitlin set her rucksack in the center of the bed and stared at it for a moment. Then she shifted it to the end of the bed and sat. She let out a squeak as springs creaked and the mattress sagged under her. Unprepared, she almost brained herself on the wall before springing back up.

There was no storage under the bed, or above the bed. Not like her snug berth on the Snowfall. Just shelves and hooks. Clearly everything was just supposed to sit out in the open. Loose. Not secured at all.

She desperately wanted cabinets, doors to swing shut and latch. Some way to fold the furniture up into the walls. If you had things just out like this, they'd all go flying if you had bank hard to avoid an asteroid. If there was a rough re-entry, you could come back and everything you owned could be all over the floor if you hadn't secured it properly.

No asteroids, no re-entries. She was on land. Nothing was going anywhere.

She nudged the table next to the bed with her foot, and it scooted across the floor.

It wasn't even bolted down.

A comm, he said. You can charge your comm here.

She didn't have one. She'd never needed one. The Snowfall had a PA system. You just found the nearest terminal and called out for whoever you needed. They would come find you. It never took more than ten minutes, even if they were on the other end of the ship. Sometimes she carried one of the ships' comms when they'd made planetside and she was out in the port city to shop for supplies or explore. But it wasn't hers.

She felt lost, in freefall. She'd lived her whole life on that ship. Slept every night, after she could sleep on her own, in the berth tucked up against the engines, their low basso hum the only lullaby she'd ever needed.

He'd asked if she liked to cook and it was as if her brain shorted out. She enjoyed preparing the ship's meals, when her turn came up on the rota, but it was all dehydrated, freeze-dried, powdered items that she put together, from recipes that had been meticulously planned.

He'd talked about fresh ingredients. She didn't know how to cook with those. Fresh fruits and vegetables were a rare treat, reserved for Rosh Hashanah or when they got a bonus for bringing the cargo in early. And actual meat like they'd had on the tables at the party? Not reconstituted protein, but honest-to-Terra meat? The idea of cooking with that struck terror into her heart.

She must have looked like a total rube, gaping at the water shower. She'd seen water showers in movies. Read about them in books. But water was too heavy to carry more than what they needed for drinking or rehydration. She'd used sonics all her life. She couldn't picture getting clean by pouring water all over herself.

She went over to the window and flattened her hands against the glass. There was a latch. It opened, Cisco had said. Oh, no, no, no. Having a window was going to be bad enough, all that land out there, so wide open she thought she might float away through it. No, she wouldn't be opening this window at night. Or possibly ever.

There was a low, familiar rumble, and Caitlin pressed her hands hard to the glass. The Snowfall rose above the houses, her bow already tilting up. Her stern glowed with the blaze of the engines.

Caitlin had seen her like this before, times when the port authority made them change docks. But she was always lifting up and coming down again a little ways away, and Caitlin could walk over and join her again. Mostly, she was onboard, feeling the pressure of G's mounting, pushing her into her seat in the cockpit as they lifted up into the blue sky and watched it turn black and fill with stars as they broke atmo.

It seemed to hover for a moment, and then it lifted away, pushing up into the atmosphere, getting smaller and smaller.

Gone.

Something bubbled up in her throat, and she pressed her hands to her mouth. Instead of vomit, tears poured down over her hands as she watched her ship, her home, her family disappear.

Don't be stupid, she told herself fiercely. Don't be such a child. You knew this would happen. They'll be back. You'll see her again.

But the tears wouldn't stop.

Over the hiccuping gasps of her breath, she heard a light knock. She shook her head but couldn't make herself say anything.

"Caitlin?" he called. "Everything okay?"

Go away, she thought, but an especially loud hiccup of a sob escaped instead.

The door swished and his footsteps echoed on the floorboards. Not the familiar thunk-thunk of boots on a deck, but a sound of bare feet on wood. "Caitlin?"

She turned her face to the window. "I'm not crying."

"Sure," he said. "That's why there aren't tears all over your face."

She dragged her sleeve over her face. "Please go away."

"God," he said. "You're acting like fucking Persephone kidnapped by Hades."

"Who?"

"It's this old - you know what, never mind. I mean, you're acting like this is the end of the world. It's not that bad here, okay? I mean, I like it."

Startled, she lifted her head. Tears still dripped off her chin.

He stood in the middle of her room, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. "So we're not a full planet yet, we don't have cities or operas or - I don't know, whatever it is you're used to. But it's nice here! You see those mountains? I fucking love those mountains, okay? Prettiest place in the galaxy and you can quote me on that. The ocean's an hour away by speeder and in a month or two it'll be warm enough to go swimming and sailing. The people are great. We have an ice cream parlor! We make ice cream now. There's, there's - it's not that bad, all right?"

She stared at him. "It's not about being here," she said. "It's about not being there." She pointed up to the star-filled sky that had swallowed her ship. "It's about my ship flying away and I'm not on it." The tears started up again and she turned her face away.

He was silent for so long she thought he'd left. But then the soft scuff of footsteps warned that he was coming closer, and two strong arms came around her. "Oh my god," he muttered. "Oh my god, I'm such a jerk. I'm sorry. Shhh. You're okay. You're okay. Let it out. You'll feel better."

She never cried in front of people. She hated it. But for some reason, she dropped her head to his shoulder and sobbed as he stroked her hair, crooning softly.

Her head ached and her face felt sticky by the time she'd cried herself out.

"Better?" he said, taking her shoulders and looking her in the face.

He'd been right. She nodded, wiping her face on her sleeve again.

He let out his breath. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole right now. I thought you were crying because you hated it here."

"Your planet's okay," she said. "It looks nice. It wasn't that."

He fished in his pocket and offered her a handkerchief. She blew her nose and mopped her face, then tried to give it back.

"No," he said blandly, "you can keep it. That's okay. I've got others."

She managed a smile and tucked it in her pocket. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just - the Snowfall left. And I was here. And I couldn't - "

"Yeah," he said, with a depth of understanding in his voice. "You're homesick, aren't you?"

She felt her lip wobble again, dangerously. "I've never been off my ship," she said.

"Never?"

She waved her hand impatiently. "I've walked on land," she said. "I'm not that much of a space baby. I just - even if I was at a hotel or something, I always knew she was close, and I was going back soon. But she's gone."

He reached out and undid the latch, swinging the window open. He leaned on the sill, looking out at the stars. "How old were you when you started flying?"

"Neonatal," she said, looking at the window, all open to the elements. Cool air washed around them, smelling sweet and green.

It took him a moment. "You were born on that ship?"

"My dad was the ship's medic. My mom was the first mate. They fell in love. They bought out the last captain when I was five and renamed her.” She edged closer to the window, cautiously. She failed to fall out. “When my dad died a few years ago, I inherited his shares. I know it looks like a tin can to you, but to me, it's home."

He winced and looked out at the stars. "Why did you agree to this?"

She studied his position and copied it, bracing her elbows on the sill next to him and propped her chin in her hand. He felt sturdy and warm at her side. If all that openness out there tried to swallow her, he would catch her. "Do you know how docking fees work?"

"Huh? No . . . "

"Every time we make planetfall, we pay a fee to the port authority. They give discounts based on the owners' citizenship. But nomads pay full price. Always. Everywhere."

"Nomads?"

"Ships whose owners have no citizenship. We used to be registered to the Starlabs station off Mars, but - "

"Yeah, we heard about that disaster, even out here. Why didn't you apply for refugee status on some nice planet?"

"We would have had to stay wherever we applied. We couldn't have flown. So we flew as nomads. But that wasn't working."

"So you handfasted with me to avoid the taxes?"

She groaned. Why had she expected a rockfoot to understand any of this? A colonial rockfoot, too; everybody knew what they were like. "We have to figure those fees in anytime we bid for a job, and nomads bid for all our jobs. If we bid too high, we don't get the job, of course not. But if we bid too low, we don't make a profit."

"And that would be terrible."

"Don't give your utopian colonial attitude. We need to buy fuel and supplies. We need to pay the crew a fair wage. We need to perform maintenance so we pass annual inspections or guess what? It's another fee. My mom and I aren't some greedy fatcat ship owners like you see in the holos, cackling over our piles of money. We're in the red. All the way down. Drowning in red."

He took that in. "So you - could you lose the ship?"

"If we'd had another month like the last six, we would've."

He was quiet for a moment. "So that's why you wanted citizenship. And the cargo runs that Barry was guaranteeing."

Caitlin sighed, remembering her own indignation at that list of runs, half of which were colony-to-colony in the Trappist system. Not to mention the stipulation that they'd carry any colonist where they needed to go. We're not planet-hoppers, she'd snarled to her mother. And we're not a passenger ship!

Her mother had snapped back, For the next year, we'll do it with a smile, because those runs are a sure thing.

She said, "Colonial ships pay the lowest fees anywhere, and they don't pay any fees between colonies in the same system.. But we barely had the spare change to pay our crew for this last run. We couldn't buy into a colony."

"Most people can't," he said. "And you know, we pay a lot of money to the inner systems for unattached colonists, too. That's why almost everybody who was born here has done at least a couple of handfasts to bring new blood in. We couldn't afford to expand, otherwise."

She turned her head to look at him. "How many people have you married so they could come here?"

"Two," he said. "Chester Runk and Allegra Garcia. You'll see them around town. And again, it's not a marriage. Marriage is . . . it's different. It's forever. Handfasting is just one year. And people here aren't really going to treat us like a married couple. We're more like roommates. Or a mentorship."

"Is that why you didn't want me in your bedroom?" She'd felt strangely insulted by that. She wasn't a virginal princess or anything. She'd had port lovers, and one short-timer on the ship who'd spent most of his off-time in her bunk in between Proxima Centauri-B and Teegarden's-C. "You're not allowed to sleep with your handfast?"

He laughed and - blushed? It was hard to tell in the moonlight. 0"No, nothing like that. A lot of handfasts sleep together during their year, and there's a handfast baby every now and then. It's just - I didn't want you to feel like it was required."

"Did you sleep with your other handfasts?"

"Ah - " He scratched his eyebrow. "With Chester. But Allegra was more like my little sister. I am attracted to women, but I wasn't into her like that."

Hmmmm. He'd been very quick to make that clear, hadn't he?

He reached out and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She felt herself go still, holding his gaze. "Look," he said in a low voice. "This is new and strange for both of us. Did you know I've never been off this planet?"

She felt her eyes widen. "Never?"

He shook his head. "Not even once. You want the truth, I'm kind of terrified of going into space."

"Don't be. It's beautiful. Wait until you see it."

He smiled at her and it was a completely different smile than the ones he'd aimed her way all day. Those had been bright and shiny, pasted on. This one seemed to come from all the way inside him, beaming out at her like sunlight. "Okay," he said. "You can show me. But for the next year, the longest we can be apart is seventy-one hours.”

She nodded. She’d read the contract closely. If they hit seventy-two, the Terran government would nullify the contract. “I know. I’d lose my citizenship.”

“And then you lose your ship and the colony loses a shit-ton of money we can't afford. It's disastrous for both of us. All of us, if you think about it. We're in this together. So let's try to do this together, okay?"

A ship couldn't fly if the crew was all at cross-purposes. She nodded. "Okay. Together."

He straightened up. "Get some sleep, okay? You're getting the grand tour of the town tomorrow, and we're totally having ice cream."

It made her smile. "I'll hold to you that."

He smiled back and started for the door.

Something prompted her to call out, "Cisco?"

He paused. "Mmm?"

"You said that marriages were different than handfasts."

"Yeah," he said. "Handfasts are about convenience, and growing the community. Marriages are about love. Partnership. They're forever."

"Does a handfast ever turn into a marriage?"

"It's happened," he said. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged and turned away from him to close the window. "I was just curious."

FINIS

#Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow #killervibe #killervibeweek20 #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #fanfiction #arranged marriage AU #IN SPAAAACE #the flash

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