#rapidly flipped through all my saved poses

[ahollowgrave]

-- o, this sweet love!! o, this divine grief.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Goodbye Despair, Goodbye Our Hero: Part 3.

*pant!* *pant!* *pant!*

HYRRAAGH!

OOFFF!

*CRAAASSHH!!*

*As he runs through the city streets, Hajime is attacked by Nagito, who smashes him through a building.

Hngh...shit...HAH!

*Landing next to the fire escape stairs, Hajime starts to rapidly climb up them until he reaches the roof of the building, or at least a balcony area seperate from the top floor.

Phew! Well, at least I got my steps in...

Where the hell is he-? AH!?

RAAAHAHAHAHAGH!

*Hajime looks down below off the building balcony, looking for Nagito, only to see him climbing up at rapid speed.

KEH!

RAAGH!

*Hajime jumps back in time as Nagito explodes onto the balcony. When the dust settles, he’s crouched down in a menacing pose, and glares up at Hajime.

Tch...ghh...

Nagito, you’re getting unstable...! You need to stop fighting me before you get one of us killed!

HAH! And you think I should care?

You and I are the same, both of us scum and trash of society at our core! I don’t care if you die, and I don’t care if I die!

I’m sure SEIKO cares about whether you live or die though! Did you ever consider that!?

KEEP HER NAME OUT OF THE GUTTER THAT IS YOUR MOUTH, HINATA!

Why not! She’s the reason for all of this, yeah? You killed Marin Mizuta because she got taken, right?

You’re smart man! You should know full well Zetsubou are responsible, not the UUV! And yet you still killed her! AND FOR WHAT!?

YOU’RE the one at fault! You couldn’t protect her when her safety and security was on the line! She was captured BECAUSE OF YOU!

*Nagito launches himself at Hajime, in a fit of rage and spite!

That’s not true and YOU KNOW IT!

*CRRRAAAASSHHH!!!*

*The two launch at each other and collide. They then start throwing more blows, kicks and punches at each other.

HAAGH!

*THUD!* *WHAM!* *CRAASSH!*

HURRAGH!

HUUP!

KEGAGH!

WHAAA- YAH YAH YAH! HAAGH!

OHOOGH!

*SMAAASHH!*

*Hajime spins through the air and kicks Nagito with both his feet, attempting to piledrive him only for his opponent to roll out the way, causing him to punch the ground and fracture it. Nagito dives at Hajime and knocks him down, but Hajime plants a strong kick with both his legs into Nagito and sends him up in the air. He then launches himself upwards and proceeds to kick him twice, knee him in the ribs, and grab him by the legs; slamming him down onto the roof.

Don’t you DARE pin YOUR misdoings and failures on ME! Don’t you understand that I want to save Seiko just as much as you want to protect her!?

HRGH!

*Nagito flips over, lands on his feet and rushes at Hajime.

She...wouldn’t NEED saving...!

UGH! WAAGH!

If you had JUST TAKEN FUJIMORI OUT IN THE FIRST PLACE!

HRRGH!

*CRAAASH!* *SMAASSH!*

KEGH!

*Nagito kicks Hajime twice, both blows which he blocks, but then he slides through his legs and sweeps his feet out from underneath him. He punches and kicks Hajime in the center of his back, sending him up into the air. He then leans back down, pulls a chunk of concrete out of the floor, and throws it up at him. Hajime holds up his arms and blocks the incoming debris, turning through the air and rushing head first back down towards Nagito, who dodges before Hajime can slam his head into the ground.

*bam!* *whack!* *thump!* *pow!* *thud!* *slap!* *bop!* *bonk!* *bang!* *pong!* *wham!* *bam!* *whack!* *thump!* *pow!* *thud!* *slap!* *bop!* *bonk!* *bang!* *pong!* *wham!*

HYRAGH!

OOGHFF!

GUYAAGH!

HURPH! HIYAAGH!

KUGH!

*With neither side giving each other the edge, they continue to rush each other down, landing a variety of blows in a variety of places. Nagito eventually counters one of Hajime’s kicks by grabbing his leg and slamming him into the wall. He reels back and tries to smash Hajime into a pancake, but as he lurches forward, Hajime slides up the wall to dodge. He drop kicks Nagito in the face and then lands a powerful kick to his jaw, sending him tumbling back.

Hup!

HOOOOYAAAAGH!

KUH-!

*BOOOOOOMMM!!!*

*Before Nagito has a chance to even remotely recover, Hajime jumps behind him and grabs him by the face. He then runs forward and slams Nagito full force into the wall.

So!? How’s THAT!?

*He backs up, as Nagito crawls his way to his feet.

Heh...tickled a little bit...

I guess even YOU have some semblance of arrogance and overconfidence.

Well I DO tend to be quite lucky...!

Huh?

HUGH!

AHAGH!

HOOYAHAHAHA!

OUGH! GOGH! AGH! KEGH! *COUGH!* DAGH!

HOOH!

*SMAASH!*

RGH!

*Hajime is caught off guard massively as Nagito suddenly reaches down and throws dirt and rubble in his eyes! Nagito then launches at him and starts to volley Hajime into the air with his punches and kicks. He eventually takes both fists and smashes him into the ground.

HIYAGH!

HEP! HAH! HAH! HAGH! HIYAH-

GEGH! HAAAGH!

OORGH!

*Nagito tries to crash down on Hajime, but he kicks him up into the air again, then sending an array of kicks trying to keep Nagito airborne. However, Nagito gets at an angle and punches Hajime in the thigh, sending him rolling to the side.

Ngh!

HAAAAAAGH!

YAGH!?

*CRASH!* *SMASH!* *BANG!* *BANG!* *BASH!* *BANG!* *WHAM!* *THUMP!* *THUD!* *CRASH!*

GHGHG-! GAHAAGH!!!

*As soon as he lands back on his feet, Nagito drives Hajime straight into the wall. He then starts to beat him down and beat him down, refusing to let him get back up.

KEGH!

*CATCH!*

YAAAGH!

OOHOGH!

*Hajime gets a tiny window of opportunity and exploits it when Nagito reels back to deliver a particularly strong punch. He grabs his arm and throws him into the wall, swapping their positions and tossing Nagito into the crater he made with his body.

HYUUGH!

HMPH!

*SMAASH!*

HUUGH!

KUGH!

RAAGH!

UUCK!

HOIYAH!

BLECK!

HUUU-JAAAGH!

OOOGH! AAAHAAGH!

*BOOOOMMMM!!*

*Unfortunatly for Hajime, Nagito doesn’t let the fatigue of the impact get to him. Immediately shaking the blow off, he jumps forward and tries to slam a heavy hit, which Hajime dodges, causing Nagito to slam the ground. However, within a second, he punches him hard in the chest, and then immediately knees him in the jaw. Hajime is sent up into the air very briefly, and as he is, Nagito jumps behind him, and lands a mighty punch right into the center of his back! Hajime yells in pain, and his body is launched straight to the top of the wall!

HOOOGH! RARARARARARARARARARARARARARARA-!!!

GGGHHH!!

RARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARRARA-!!!

...! 

BAACKK OOOOOFFFF!!!

!!!!???

*When Hajime falls back down, Nagito’s attacks turn relentless! He throws a rapidfire array of punches at Hajime, bruising and bloodying him badly! In the midst of his array of attacks, Hajime lets out an almost supersonic scream of rage, which knocks Nagito off balance!

KRUAAGH!!

HEE-!?

*SMASH!* *SMASH!* SMACK!*

DRGH! HUYAGH!

Ooh!

NYAAAAGH!

*CRACK!*

AAAAUUUGH!

*GRAB!* BLYAAAAGH!

*KAAA-BOOOOOMMM!!!*

*Refusing to take any more shit, Hajime grabs Nagito by the neck of his shirt, and punches him twice in the face, and then knees him in the ribs. He grabs his coat and throws him higher into the air, pushing off the ground with his hands, and smashes both his feet straight into Nagito’s spine! When Nagito screams in agony as he falls back down, Hajime grabs him from behind, and delivers a massive air suplex, sending both Nagito and himself crashing back down to the roof!

YAAGH!

HUUGH! Huh!?

*After they crash, Hajime grabs Nagito by the chest of his shirt, lifts him up and throws him away again. Nagito rolls along the roof, forcing himself to shake off his fatigue. But as he recovers, he suddenly looks up and sees a figure, glowing with red aura, flying straight at him!

GO! TO! HEEEEELLLL!!!

!!!!????

*KKEEERR-CRRAAAAAAAASSHHHHH!!!* *BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!*

*Hajime, powered up and extremely enraged, flies straight at Nagito and crashes straight into him. The power of the blow combined with the previous battle damage causes the entire balcony battlefield to shatter and crumble, with Hajime forcing both himself and Nagito down to the roads and streets below. Fortunately the streets are empty and evacuated, because had they not been, a few people may have been caught in the ensuing explosion.

...

...

...

...

...

Krgh...!

*A giant crater is opened up in the road, and the explosion from the impact sets the streets ablaze as well. Nagito, exhausted, bruised, battered and bloody, clambers out of the hole in the ground.

Gh...*GASP!*

*It takes Nagito a second to regain his senses, but he snaps back to reality and consciousness when he sees his blood-stained hands and body, as well as the carnage around him.

Hahh...Hgh! HNGH! HGH! HGH! HGH! HGH! HGH! 

*He starts to breath violently, panicked and angry.

Oh, what’s the matter, you big baby!? Isn’t this the kind of chaos and destruction you thrive on?

!!??

You gonna cry!? Piss your pants!? Shit yourself!?

HRRGGGHH! I HAAATE YOOUU!

Oh HOW ORIGINAL!? You seriously aren’t finished yet!?

No! Because you’re STILL ALIVE! Which means that there’s more SUFFERING I need to grant you!

Ahaha! And you’ve done a MARVELOUS job at that!

I promise you this...Hajime Hinata...! 

I’m going to KILL YOU! And when I’m through with you, I’m gonna rip that little shit fiancé of yours to pieces! Then I’m gonna tear down the Future Foundation, and then I’LL KILL EVERYONE YOU KNOW AND LOVE!

...

*sigh* 

Looks like the fun is only just starting...!

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Epilogue

AN: It’s here... THE END!!! I’m almost sad to finish this fic off but I have absolutely loved writing it. Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged/commented/sent asks or spoke to me about this fic it means so much to me and I really appreciate you!!

warning: adult content ahead

previous chapter - masterlist - ao3

-- 

~1 year later~

“You need to rip the band-aid right off.”

Rowan could barely hold in his sigh at Lorcan’s pronouncement. He shared a look with Aedion who looked as baffled as Rowan felt. 

“What the fuck?” Aedion shook his head. “This is not the kind of thing you just ‘rip off’.”

“How do you have a girlfriend?” Fenrys’ bewildered voice came from Rowan’s side. 

Lorcan shrugged, unbothered by each of their reactions. “Don’t mess around. Just ask her, simple. Then it’s done.”

“Gods, above,” Rowan muttered. 

“I should never have asked you three, I should have gone to Aelin. Or even Dorian.” Aedion sighed before clasping his hands in front of himself. “Okay, serious suggestions only.”

“That was a serious suggestion.” Lorcan said, not attempting to hide his indignation. 

Aedion ignored him. “Fenrys go.”

The golden haired male took a moment to consider, barely holding back from stroking his chin as he considered the prompt. Of all of them, Fenrys had been in a relationship for the shortest amount of time, he and Dorian had only declared their relationship a few months earlier, even though Rowan knew things had been brewing for far longer. 

It was strange to think that all four of them were in committed relationships, especially as they all still lived in what had been the bachelor pad of their first apartment together.

Rowan would never admit it out loud, but he felt sentimental to the old loft, even with it’s broken window and ever leaking shower. The draughty exposed brick would always remind him of the parkour phase Aedion and Fenrys had gone through not long after they had moved in. They had taken every opportunity they could to throw themselves around the loft without any kind of skill and they had only stopped after their neighbour complained of unexplained banging noises.

The red stain on the hardwood floor, now covered by a blue bean bag chair, would always remind him of the time Aedion had brought home a girl who had–for reasons still unknown to Rowan–thrown a bottle of red wine at his head. None of them had bothered to clean the stain, in fact Lorcan had posed for a photo with it and Fenrys had framed it on their refrigerator where it had stayed for years. 

His main memory of their loft however, would always be their front door. The slab of wood, with it’s peeling grey paint and the lock that often stuck shut unless it was jiggled just so, would always remind him of Aelin. Rowan knew he wore a ridiculously soft smile at the thought, but he would always be grateful for the loft for bringing him to Aelin. Or more accurately, for bringing Aelin to him.

He swallowed the sly smirk that threatened at the memory of the time he had taken her against the door. She had wrapped her long legs around his waist as he had pounded into her and her nails had clawed his back as she had moaned in his ear. He had buried his teeth into her neck, savouring the salty and sweet taste of her skin on his tongue. He hadn’t been able to leave the loft without getting semi-hard for weeks. 

“What are your first memories of Lysandra?” Fenrys asked eventually, somehow pulling Rowan’s thoughts from Aelin. It was a difficult task, even over a year into their relationship Rowan was still completely enamoured. “If you want to go big you could do something to do with that, girls love sappy shit.”

Rowan smiled as Lorcan nodded solemnly, finally appearing to take Aedion’s request for help seriously. His best friend seemed to consider the suggestion, crossing his arms over his broad chest and surveying the three of them where they sat before him. 

“That could work.” He said slowly. 

“Great.” Fenrys grinned. “We need to brainstorm. What are your big moments with Lysandra? Like when did you and Lys first meet?”

Aedion shrugged again. “I knew of her for years through Aelin but I only remember meeting her properly when Aelin moved in.”

Fenrys’ enthusiasm was rapidly gaining momentum. “Right, and any special memories from then? Any big gestures you could make as a throwback?”

Aedion’s eyes widened before a burst of laughter sprung from his lips. Rowan shared a look with Lorcan who shrugged. 

“I told her I’d marry her then,” Aedion said, shaking his head and running a hand through his shoulder length hair. 

“What?” Rowan barked his disbelief.

“You’re not serious.” Even Fenrys seemed bewildered.

Aedion only laughed again. “I said ‘girl, imma marry you’.”

Rowan groaned as he lifted a hand to cup his forehead before dragging it down over his eyes. 

“You’re no better than him.” Fenrys said with a shake of his head as he gestured to Lorcan who did nothing but smirk back at him. 

Aedion flipped him off. “I don’t come close to his level of inadequacy, at least I can actively take steps towards relationship milestones. Have you even brought up moving in with Elide to her yet?”

Lorcan scowled, before muttering, “don’t change the subject.”

Aedion took a sharp intake of breath, reading himself to speak, and Rowan dragged his hand away from his eyes. There wasn’t time to let those two get into it.

“Not to in any way agree with Lorcan but I think he could have a point,” He said quickly. “You love her and want to marry her, tell her that. Down on one knee with the ring, I doubt she’d say no.”

Rowan knew his words were the truth. He had known Aedion for a decade now and he had never seen his best friend as smitten as he was with Lysandra, nor had he seen him so secure. Aedion and Lysandra played off each other, she settled him and he excited her. 

Rowan knew Lysandra would say yes but he understood Aedion’s need to over-prepare. While it was standard for Aedion to mull over the details, his mind was one for strategy and weighing-up the risks and it was part of what made him so good at his job, and Rowan knew that while this wasn’t a risk, it was important to his friend to get it right.

Proposing to Aelin was a thought that had drifted around the edges of Rowan’s mind for a while. From the start Rowan had known Aelin was it for him and he knew he wanted to marry her at some point in the future but the pressure of how to do it right, the way to make it right for Aelin was a task he knew he’d work hard on. 

He knew Aelin would say yes even if he asked her over a mouthful of food at their kitchen counter but he also knew that she was a princess at heart with a taste for finery and he wanted to spoil her. It was a luxury in itself for Rowan that he could. Since taking over the bar, even with the large loan he had taken out, his bank account had a healthy level of cushioning that he loved using to take Aelin for weekends away or to fancy restaurants. 

There was a savings account that he and Aelin threw money into every month for whenever they felt ready to move out of the loft, but there was also a separate savings account that Aelin was unaware of that Rowan was saving for something shiny. 

“Thanks,” Aedion said, shaking himself somewhat. Rowan nodded, amused at the level of detail and reassurance Aedion appeared to need.

“You need to relax,” Fenrys’ chimed in, voicing Rowan’s thoughts aloud. “You’re overthinking it.”

“He’s right.” Rowan swallowed. “Just tell her the truth. Tell her you love her, how much you want to spend the rest of your life with her and how much she makes you smile every day. Tell her how you want to be eighty and still holding her hand, or how you hate the thought of going a single day without her.”

“Gods,” Fenrys scoffed as Lorcan snickered. “You’re making me want to marry you.”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “You’re welcome to take notes.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need to.”

“Really? Not thinking of getting down on one knee for Dorian?”

Fenrys smirked. “I get on my knees for Dorian plenty, but no.”

“Why not?” Rowan asked, ignoring the comment and daring to bite, knowing he’d likely regret it.

“He’ll be the one proposing to me,” Fenrys explained as if it were obvious.

Rowan laughed, Aedion and Lorcan’s laughter echoing his own.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Fenrys turned to Lorcan. “Your proposal skills need some serious work.”

Lorcan shrugged, unfazed as ever. “Maybe I’ll let Elide propose to me too.”

Rowan snickered at the image of the tiny woman on one knee before his giant of a friend. He sobered when he paused to consider it, Elide probably was the kind of woman who could propose to Lorcan, she had him wrapped completely around her little finger. 

“I can see it.”

“She takes what she wants, it’s hot.”

Rowan laughed again. “You could take her name too, Lorcan Lochan has a good ring to it.”

Fenrys’ howl of laughter from his side brought a grin to Rowan’s lips as he looked to his friend who’s eyes darkened at the ribbing. 

“Lorcan Lochan,” Aedion repeated through a laugh. “Please, I’d pay money to see it.”

Rowan smiled as his friends continued their teasing and his mind wandered through the possibilities. Aelin had a number of surnames already but he quite liked the sound of Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius. 

-- 

“You are not allowed to move in here.”

The panic in Lysandra’s green eyes as she hurtled around the corner was almost comical. 

“Why not? What’s wrong?” She demanded.

Aelin ran a thoughtful finger along the sleek, oak mantelpiece admiring each of the twisting lines running through the wood. To the side of the fireplace sat a tall window, letting in plenty of warm daylight that reflected off the shining hardwood floors and crept into each of the corners of the large room. The archway Lysandra stood under led to the open plan kitchen-diner with it’s sleek marble countertops and extended dining table that could seat their whole group of friends. 

“If you move in here I’ll be too jealous.”

Lysandra slumped in relief, leaning a shoulder against the archway as she smiled. “He’s done well.”

“I didn’t know Aedion had this in him,” Aelin said with a snort and Lysandra waved a hand. 

“He has spent months putting it together,” her friend admitted and Aelin smirked. 

“How much did he let you choose?”

Lysandra winced. “It was fifty-fifty.”

Aelin waited. 

“Forty-sixty.”

Aelin only cocked her head as she waited a moment longer. 

“I won’t go any lower than thirty-five. And I picked the paint for the bathroom walls.”

Aelin’s poker face cracked at her friend’s admission. She knew her cousin wanted their house to be perfect but he had taken his attention to detail to the extreme. The number of interior design magazines that were littering the coffee table in the loft was well into double figures and Aelin had been dragged on multiple trips to a number of shops to offer her opinion on almost identical shades of paint and patterned wallpapers. Lysandra had been content to sit back and let her boyfriend take the reins, confident that Aedion would choose well. 

He had. The house was beautiful, and the dedication her cousin had offered was obvious. Each room had a multitude of tiny details that revealed the love Aedion had poured into the house, in the kitchen it was the large window that overlooked their garden, offering a glance at the wildlife that flocked to the numerous native plants Aedion had selected. In the living room it was the stuffed bookshelves, housing almost anything from Aedion’s old college textbooks to Lysandra’s abundance of romance novels. 

Aelin’s favourite was the study her cousin had decorated for Lysandra to house her newly developed modelling agency. Lysandra had chosen more recently to take a step away from posing in front of the camera and had opted to manage a small group of models. The office was bright and welcoming, with splashes of soft green accents that suited Lysandra. The office sat next door to a room that was carefully neutral, but Aelin knew it wouldn’t take much work for it to be converted into a nursery. 

Aelin took another glance around the living room they stood in, Aedion had truly curated a home. She could see herself and Rowan curled up on the loveseat in the corner with Aedion on the armchair by the fire and Lysandra perched in his lap. She could hear the sounds of Fenrys rummaging through their fridge as Lorcan barked orders from his space on the sofa. 

Aelin was going to miss having them all under one roof, even if it meant her and Rowan having the loft to themselves. But she knew that as quiet as the loft would feel without the others, she was excited to make the space their own. And to get some much awaited privacy. 

Lysandra watched her with knowing eyes as she surveyed the space. “You’ll all be welcome any time to come and visit.” 

Lysandra plopped down onto the plush couch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she settled into the pliant cushions. Aelin took the seat opposite, throwing her feet onto the footstool set carefully in front of the sofa. 

“Just make sure your doors are locked at night, I think Fenrys could take your open door policy a little too liberally.”

Lysandra shook her head. “I’m not sure Aedion would mind, he’ll pretend he won’t but he’ll miss having the guys around. He’ll give them all a key.”

“What about me?” Aelin gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. Lysandra rolled her eyes as she settled further into their couch, it was an agreement that didn’t need to be stated that Aelin would get her own key to the new house. “I’m glad you’re not living with Blackbeak anymore.”

Lysandra’s eyes stayed shut as she laughed. “She’s really not that bad. You’d know if you ever bothered to get to know her the entire time I lived with her.”

“Lys, she’s awful. She’d strut about as if she was the queen or something whenever I came around. Making sly comments to… I don’t know,” Aelin waved a hand, searching for the words. “Assert her dominance or something.”

Lysandra cracked her eyes open to level Aelin with an unimpressed stare. “And you wouldn’t?”

Aelin shrugged, whatever displays she and Manon had put on were in the past. Hopefully she’d never have to see the scarily beautiful woman again. “I’m your best friend, I don’t need to try and posture.”

Lysandra grinned. “And yet you do anyway.”

Aelin stuck her tongue out at her friend, knowing the comment was too true to justify a middle finger. Her phone buzzed in her lap, signifying the text Aelin had been waiting for.

I’m 5 minutes away.

Aelin fought to keep her face neutral as she tucked the phone back into the pocket of her jeans and stood from her comfortable seat on the couch. 

“You’re leaving?”

Aelin nodded, “Rowan just texted, he needs help with something at the bar.” A lie. “Meet us there later after the delivery has come?”

A serious invitation hidden within a number of half truths.

Lysandra dipped her head in a nod as Aelin swept to the front door, calling out her parting words as she did.

Once out the front door she allowed her smile to break through and it widened again as she spotted her cousin walking up the path in front of her. Aedion wore a shirt, and his golden hair was carefully styled. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he approached her.

“Good luck,” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

“I don’t need it.” Aedion flashed an easy grin before wrapping one arm easily around her. “Thanks, Ae.”

Aelin drew back soon after. “Don’t make us wait too long to see you guys.”

Aedion only smirked.

“Gross,” Aelin couldn’t help screwing her eyes shut before turning away to make her exit. She flashed her cousin a final thumbs up as she got into her car and headed to where she knew she would find her boyfriend.

— 

Rowan hadn’t changed much when he had taken over the bar, but what he had changed made it even more enjoyable. The first thing he had done was replace the ancient jukebox in the corner, he had replaced the jukebox with one that didn’t need to be turned off and on again every fifteen songs and had updated some of the music in its catalogue. 

Each of their loft-mates had been allowed to offer suggestions for the updated library and Rowan had criticised every single one, his own music taste leaned into older rock songs Aelin had never heard, but the choices had all made their way in there anyway. 

All apart from Lysandra’s only half-joking suggestion of a best-of-boy-bands compilation. That suggestion had received a hard no.

One of Lorcan’s choices, some alternative track with lots of drums, was playing as she made her way to the small office in the back corner of the bar. She nodded at the bartender who nodded back with a soft smile. He was a young man called Luca and he had been recommended by Malakai upon his exit. Aelin liked him, he was young and sweet but competent enough to make a mean drink.

She pushed through the door to the office and smiled as she took in the sight of her boyfriend. Even just the sight of him made her smile, and he smiled back as he dropped the papers he held. 

Aelin flopped into Rowan’s lap, looping her arms around his neck as he leant in to kiss her. Even the softest brush of his lips against her own loosened every muscle in her body.

“Hey,” he murmured against her lips, unable to resist pressing another kiss to them. 

“Hi.”

“Missed you.”

Rowan shared comments like that with a regularity that made her heart squeeze. Each one brought a kernel of warmth to her chest. 

“You saw me this morning.”

“And?” His gaze was unwavering, and his sincerity made Aelin bite her lip. 

“Everything all set for Aedion and Lysandra?” He asked smoothly. 

“I left just as he arrived,” Aelin confirmed.

Rowan ran a gentle hand up and down her side as he spoke. “I’ll be relieved when it’s over and he’s finally asked her. I can’t give any more thought to the best way to propose to Lysandra.”

Aelin snorted as she pressed a kiss to his temple. She loved that her friends and family were all so intertwined. “He’s nervous, give him a break.”

“Why?” Rowan asked. “She’ll obviously say yes.”

Aelin cocked an eyebrow. “And you wouldn’t be nervous if you were proposing to the love of your life?”

Rowan shrugged. “Nope. I’m sure she’ll be very lovely and not at all scary. I’d have no doubt in my mind she’d say yes.”

She pinched the skin of his bicep and he hissed a laugh through his teeth. 

“I can go if you need to find someone sweet.”

Aelin made to move off his lap but his hands tightened around her. “Don’t you dare.”

He skimmed his nose around her hairline, brushing the gentlest of kisses to her ear. A soft gasp crossed her lips at the sensation. Aelin leaned into the warmth of his hands at her hips and the touch of his lips at her neck as she turned to survey his desk. 

“Working hard?” She asked playfully and Rowan buried his face in her neck and groaned. She ignored the heat that stirred in her at the sound and laughed as she petted his hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Invoicing is the worst. I have no idea how Malakai did it all on his own for so long, I don’t know how I haven’t made a catastrophic error yet.” Her boyfriend’s eyes widened. “Would I know if I had?”

Aelin laughed. Rowan worked hard and Aelin was confident he was handling the management of the bar well even if Rowan himself wasn’t. Financially there were no problems, the re-branding that had taken place after Rowan had assumed ownership had managed to attract a number of new regulars as well as large numbers of casual visitors that kept the bar easily filled with patrons. 

One night, not long after Rowan had signed the papers giving him majority ownership, Fenrys had suggested a weekly karaoke night. The idea had started out as a joke until Elide had brought her tiny karaoke machine one evening and the bar had ended up packed with people cheering others on, so much so that Rowan had invested in a proper system and every Thursday hosted a karaoke night. 

“Anything I can do to make it easier?” Aelin asked, scratching her nails against Rowan’s scalp. 

He groaned again at the sensation and this time it was harder to ignore the heat stirring in her core. He looked up to her, his fingers curling more tightly around her hips, as his tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip. 

“Do you know anything about accounting?”

Aelin laughed again. 

“Absolutely not, but I know a lot about relieving stress.” She shifted where she sat in his lap, making sure to grind her backside against his groin. “And I have many techniques that I know are effective in releasing pressure.”

Rowan let out a deep, throaty sound at her words, pulling her hips down as he leant in to kiss her neck. 

The start of their relationship had been a blur of passion. About a month into their relationship Aedion had attempted an intervention when he had walked in on them in a state of undress for the third time in a week, and Aelin loved that it hadn’t faded. She wanted Rowan every single time she was so much as in the same room as him, and even when she wasn’t. 

Aelin tugged at the silver strands of Rowan’s hair as he trailed hot, wet kisses down her throat. She gasped as he scraped his teeth down across her jawline to nip lightly at her pulse point. She shifted impatiently in his lap and tugged his face up by his hair to press her lips to his.

His tongue caressed her lower lip and she eagerly opened to let him lick into her mouth. Each stroke of his tongue set her skin on fire and it wasn’t long until she was writhing in his lap.

“We don’t have long until the others are due.” Rowan slid his face back down to her neck, unable to draw his lips away from her skin. 

“We have enough time if we’re quick.” Aelin heard the desperation in her voice, and Rowan did too if the way he rocked her across his lap was any indication. 

“I don’t want to rush,” He said, his voice a low growl in his throat. “I want to take my time with you.”

“And you can.” Aelin pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Later. First let me be quick with you.”

Aelin stood off his lap and Rowan moaned his disappointment until she leaned back in to caress her hand over the bulge in his jeans. His head rolled back as his eyes fluttered shut and his hips jerked into her hand. 

Aelin loved having Rowan at her mercy like this, usually he was the one who liked to take his time and watch her fall apart under his teeth and tongue until she was shaking and gasping his name, but Aelin loved to take care of him too. 

She slid to her knees between his thighs and ran her hands up the thick muscles she felt straining against the desire to take her. She knew they didn’t have long so she wasted no time before unzipping his jeans and sliding a hand beneath. 

Rowan’s head fell backwards against the back of his chair as her hand dipped into his boxers. Aelin bit her lip at the feeling of him, already hard and heavy in her hand. She gave a few pumps of her hand, enjoying the catch in his throat as she did, before tugging him out of his trousers. 

Aelin trailed her hand along the length before wrapping her hand tighter and twisting slightly the way she knew he liked, enjoying the way his hips jerked off the chair slightly. She pressed her free hand to his hip, holding him in place as she leaned in to run her tongue up from his base to tip. At the first touch of her tongue his hips jerked forward and his hand slid into her hair.

“Easy,” She chided with a wicked smile. Aelin loved the way he reacted to her, the slightest touch would have him solid beneath her and kissing her forcefully the way she liked.

Rowan brushed his free hand along her cheek, before tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. 

“Beautiful,” He murmured, his voice low and thick with arousal. Aelin smiled up at him as she worked her hand again, and she let her gaze fall to where she held him, enjoying the contrast of her red nail polish against his skin.

He let out a curse under his breath as she leant in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along his considerable length. His hand twisted more securely into her hair as she took him fully into her mouth, using her hand to work the base. He didn’t force her head, which she appreciated, but she loved the feeling of his hand holding her to him as she moved. 

Aelin felt her eyes flutter shut, she loved doing this for Rowan, it made her feel sexy and the sounds he made were hotter than anything.

“Fuck,” He hissed. “You look so good like that.”

Aelin moaned, breathing in deeply through her nose as she bobbed her head. She loved how vocal Rowan was, how he would curse her name and anything he could think of as she worked her mouth around him. 

She pulled back to press her tongue right under the tip, the way she knew sent him wild, and she was rewarded with a sharp thrust of his hips. She looked up to him finding his deep green eyes blown with lust as she swallowed around him. She read the question in his eyes and nodded as best as she could. 

Rowan let out a groan. “Gods, I love you.”

His thumb trailed the corner of her lips as they stretched around him before sliding to join his other in her hair. Aelin moaned as he began to fuck her mouth, lifting his hips in a torturously slow rhythm that had Aelin grinding her hips against the air. 

His pace increased as his hands twisted more tightly into her hair. Aelin moaned around his cock and he hissed a breath at the sensation. She slid her free hand down into her own jeans, matching her own strokes with Rowan’s thrusts and it wasn’t long until she felt her own climax building. 

“Aelin,” Rowan cursed. “Oh, fuck.” 

His eyes screwed shut tightly as his hips stuttered, Aelin moaned her permission as she stroked herself even faster. She was close, and the pulling of her hair combined with the hard thrusts into her mouth, timed perfectly with her own fingers, sent her quickly to a climax. Rowan’s hips jerked as he groaned, his head tipping to the side as he gasped her name. 

“Gods.” His chest heaved as his jaw strained. “Fuck, Aelin I-I’m close.”

Aelin met his gaze and offered a shallow dip of her chin. Rowan clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, each muscle in his powerful body straining beneath the touch of her tongue.

He spilled into her mouth with a groan, and Aelin swallowed around him, allowing her tongue to coax him along. He gave a few final shallow thrusts as he settled back into his chair, his eyes blinking open slowly to meet her own. 

Aelin slid her hand out of her trousers as she drew her lips off him. She tucked his still half-hard cock back into his jeans and stood to press her lips to his, revelling in the blissed out expression on his handsome face. She crawled back onto his lap as his breathing evened out. 

Finally, he blinked his eyes open and brought her hand to his lips to press a kiss to her fingers. 

“You’re phenomenal, thank you,” He said, his voice still breathy. “But you did my job for me.”

Aelin smiled at the disappointed tone in his voice before she pressed her lips to his once more. “You can make it up to me later.” 

He cocked a brow in a way that she knew meant he wanted to splay her out on this desk and taste her the way she had tasted him, but at that moment her phone chose to buzz. The second signal of the day. 

“We have to go,” She said, beginning to slide off his lap. “We have a pair of fiancés to congratulate.” 

Rowan grinned, a crooked flash of his teeth. “How long, do you think, until he asks me to be his best man?”

“I think he’ll ask Lorcan.” 

“Right,” He grinned. “And Manon Blackbeak will be Lysandra’s maid of honour I assume.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.”

“I think you’d prefer me being the maid of honour to your best man, much more than Manon. If it’s Manon your night won’t end up like today.”

He cocked a brow. 

“You know, it’s tradition for the best man and maid of honour to hook-up in the bathroom and Manon would bite your dick off before she blew you.”

The fear in Rowan’s eyes drew a cackle from her chest. 

“Don’t worry,” She patted his cheek with a hand before fully rising to her feet. “I’d protect you from the evil witch.”

Rowan smiled as she pulled him to his feet. 

“And then I’d definitely blow you in the bathroom.”

“You’re filthy.”

“You love it.”

Rowan nodded, a sincere light in his eyes. “I do.”

He slung his arm around her shoulders as they made their way out into the main part of the bar to discover their friends already gathered in a booth. Lysandra sat in the center as Elide examined the sparkling diamond now gracing her left hand, Lorcan frowned at the same ring and Aelin barely managed to conceal her snort at the sight. She was sure Lorcan would get there someday, but she’d enjoy his discomfort in the meantime. 

Aelin snuck out from under Rowan’s arm to throw her own around Aedion and Lysandra, unintelligibly cooing her congratulations and excitement. It was almost hard to believe sometimes, that her cousin and her best friend were together and now getting married. 

“Nice of you to join us,” Fenrys snarked as she released her friend and collapsed onto Rowan’s lap. Aelin flipped him off, despite the wide grin she wore. 

“We were barely late, we had things to finish off.”

Aedion winced as Lysandra and Fenrys cackled. Rowan hid his smile in her shoulder but she could feel his body shaking with laughter beneath her.

“Tell us more about these things you were finishing off Aelin.” Elide had a wicked glint in her eye.

“Please don’t.” Aedion sounded pained and even Lorcan grinned. 

The booth was filled with her friends and roommates and Aelin wasn’t complaining as Rowan slung his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. Aelin pressed both of her palms to the table as she surveyed the group. 

“I propose a toast,” she said. “To the happy couple.” 

She made a gesture to Luca who flashed her a thumbs up and immediately made to collect enough glasses for the group. 

“On the house I hope,” Lorcan quipped as Luca brought over a couple of bottles of champagne.

“When do any of you pay for drinks in here?” Rowan questioned as the group laughed. 

Aelin leaned back into Rowan and lifted her glass in a toast. The sounds of her friends bickering wasn’t enough to damper the happiness she felt for Aedion and Lysandra, and the old Phil Collins song playing on the jukebox only added to the contentment she felt sitting in Rowan’s lap surrounded by her friends. 

--

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@superspiritfestival

@spyofthenightcourt

@jlinez

@queen-of-glass

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@elriel4life

@bamchickawowow

@woollycat22

@claralady

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09

@darlinminds

@thenerdandfandoms

@danibutterr

@inthecityair

@autophobiaxx

@imaginedhaven

@endlessdaydream - I’m having an issue with this tag not sure why :(

@rowaelinismyotp​

Thank you!

[sunshineandcybertronians]

A Chance Like This - Knockout x reader

Word count: 7,740 Warnings: none Takes place on the episode “Flying Mind” A/N: This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and actually turned out pretty good. I wrote this over a year ago. I think I did a good job adding enough that it wasn’t just the whole episode written down.

You were staring wide eyed as Bulkhead told the human charges about his adventure being stuck on Nemesis. The group of listening humans, including you, was standing on the high platform closest to the groundbridge.

“And when the Insecticons backed off, I got inspired by my proximity to the power core, and did what I do best.” He hit his fist into the other servo making a loud crash for dramatic effect.

Miko and you stood by the yellow, metal guards while Jack leaned on the desk, Raf was sitting by the computer, and Agent Fowler stood in the back.

“Whoa,” you let out. Being stuck on the ship would be something you hate; you would have no idea how to get off.

“You trashed Megatron’s ride like a rock star in a hotel room.” Miko threw her hands into the air.

“So what are we going to do now?” you asked when you realized the Decepticons would in one spot and unable to move for a long period of time.

“We should hit the ‘Cons right now, while their vulnerable,” Arcee said to her teammates with determination.

“Megatron’s warship may be grounded, but let’s not forget we remain vastly outnumbered,” Ratchet, who was apart from the group and on your right, reminded.“Especially since he has added the insecticon hive to his ranks.”

“Then maybe it’s time for me in call in an air strike,” Agent Fowler stepped closer to the railing. “Or for us to consider more extreme measures, Agent Fowler.” The prime had a grim look in his optics that made you uneasy. He gestured for Ratchet to follow him down the corridor. Their heavy, metal steps resonated through the room. Your heart pounded as your mind searched the all the possibilities of what could happen with worry. Not just because Optimus Prime having that emotion was a reason for concern. 

Because there was someone on Nemesis that you didn’t want hurt.

He walked back into the room with a blue circular object, with gray designs covering it that made you stumble back.

“Is that…?” you began, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

“The spark extractor? Yes,” Optimus replied.

“I thought that… doing that would be too violent and wrong… to just take all of their sparks at once. Why…?” You struggled for words in shock.

“Although I would greatly prefer lesser means, it could be our only chance to end the war.”

“I guess. I just wish… it didn’t have to end like that. There has to be another way, right?” your eyes reflected sadness and hope.

He let out a sad sigh. “While I wish the same, I fear we have no other option.”

You whimpered. There was the urge to say more and attempt to convince them to choose another path. Yet you knew everyone would probably get annoyed at you for defending the villains, and Optimus Prime made up his mind. Who were you to question his decision? There was still something inside of you that wanted to stop it, that wasn’t at peace.

You didn’t want all of the Decepticons to die. You didn’t want Knockout to die.

You didn’t know him that well, but you were fond of him. His personality, his finish, just everything about him made you have a soft spot for him. When you got the chance, you’d try to get pictures of him, it was just hard to without getting caught. You wished you were actually friends with him, although now it would be too late.

The thought of him dying twisted and stabbed your heart. You probably should have never let yourself get that attached, but there was no going back.

A beeping at the console in front of Ratchet interrupted your thoughts.

“Optimus, I’m detecting a massive energy spike at the Decepticon crash site. It appears to be dark energon.” Ratchet had a serious and grim expression on his faceplate.

Everyone, except Optimus Prime, flinched at the news. They stared at the map with a purple circle on what you assumed to be the crash site.

The groundbridge lit up with the light swirling and dancing once Ratchet flipped the switch. It seemed much blurrier than usual. That’s when you realized how much tears formed in your eyes. You swiftly blinked them away, refusing to be caught. A part of you wanted to run in, to see if there was a way to save him or see him one more time. The thought of seeing his faceplate twist in pain in flinching as his spark was wretched away from him was enough you have you rapidly blinking. Please don’t cry in front of them; please don’t cry in front of them, you repeated in your mind. How would they react if they knew you cared for a Decepticon? They would probably send you to therapy or a mental hospital or something.

All the Autobots but Ratchet, who was staying, and Optimus, who seemed to be planning on entering last. They effortlessly shifted to their vehicle forms and quickly went through. You took a sharp breath when you noticed the extractor in Bumblebee’s hand as he transformed.

Fowler was saying something to the prime about how he had to be there to witness the Decepticon defeat, but you couldn’t pay attention. You just kept thinking about Knockout. Was he going to die? That couldn’t be right. Not now.

Optimus agreed to bring Agent Fowler and drove through the groundbridge. Then the light disappeared, leaving you to wonder when it would be done.

The last time you saw him could literally have been the last time you’d ever see him. You’d never get the chance to meet him or be friends with him. He’d be gone forever. You were panicking. When would the spark extractor be generated? Had it already happened? Was he already not existing anymore? Would you feel something when he was extinguished, like suddenly feel a part of you was missing or punched in the gut? All of these questions and negative emotions filled you and you believed you would burst. You already wandered and began pacing in the corner where everyone would be less likely to notice you. Just in case you broke down crying, which was becoming more likely by the second.

“Team’s down, requesting medevac,” Fowler’s voice came through the comm.

Your eyes widened and your heart leaped. “What?” you turned to the screen. You had been prepared to gain sadness from Knockout being terminated, not the Autobots being injured. Needless to say, you were concerned.

“What happened?” Ratchet asked.

“The Nemesis shot some crazy beam at the 'Bots and now they’re frozen.”

“What?” Jack asked.

“Are they…” Raf wasn’t able to finished the sentence in fear.

“I don’t know. I need to examine them. Hang tight. I will be there.” Ratchet opened up the groundbridge.

It took a while to get everyone back. Ratchet was the only one big enough to carry them and had to do so one at a time. As they were brought in, all the humans grew more sad and worried. It was terrible to see them still and lifeless like that. You prayed they were okay.

“Did they get the chance to use the spark extractor?” you asked when the question crossed your mind and you managed to reached Fowler on the higher platform.

“No. The 'Cons were too fast,” Fowler answered.

A sigh of relief escaped you, however as you did so, you masked it as a cough, to avoid everyone’s questioning eyes. It meant Knockout was alright. It may have been wrong, with everyone frozen, but you were actually happy the turn of events happened. It meant Knockout was still alive. You just hoped the others didn’t stay that way forever.

The other three on the floor below were still gazing in sorrow at the awkwardly posing cybertronians as Ratchet scanned them. His metallic steps echoed through the quiet room as he inspected the console.

“They’re alive, but I’ve never encountered this form of stasis lock.” He held his chin with his digits while staring at a large screen that currently showed Optimus.

“The 'Cons are crossing the Atlantic,” Fowler marched right up, near the vitals displayed in green. Ratchet’s optics shifted from the console’s information to the human. “Making a bee-line for North America,” he waved his arm horizontally to illustrate his point.

“Wait, we can track them?” Jack noticed as the three other walked over on the floor below.

“Why aren’t they cloaked like usual?” Raf lifted an eyebrow.

Your eyes widened when you realized it now that they mentioned it.  Fowler’s facial expression changed, a clear indicator that the same just occurred to him.

“None of this makes a lick of sense,” the black male voiced what everyone was thinking, “they had us in the crosshairs, but the 'Cons just took off.”

“They even bailed on that spark extractor thingy.” Miko waved her hand, as confused as everyone else.

“Megatron could have gotten the spark extractor AND destroyed Optimus. He would never turn down something like that. Why?” The thought tangled in your mind as you tried to make sense of it.

“Wait,” Jack said when an idea struck him. “If the ship isn’t cloaked, maybe the communications relays are open and-”

“Ehp, eph.” The medic cut him off and rotated around to the teenagers. “Are you suggesting that we just call Megatron and ask him what’s happening up there?!” he sarcastically thought, attempting to show the insanity of the idea.

As ridiculous and unlikely as it sounded, surprisingly, it didn’t sound like a bad idea considering the circumstances. The kids simultaneously shrugged and Ratchet looked in shock as it struck him that they were serious. For better or worse, it was probably the best plan. You needed to know what was going on. It was worth a shot. Ratchet then stared at Fowler and you for your opinion. You both did the same as the humans before.

After contemplating, he finally opened up communication. This gave enough time for the three to climb up onto the same floor you were on. “This is Outpost Omega One to Decepticon warship. Megatron, please respond.” If he felt awkward sending a message to Megatron, he wasn’t showing any signs of it.

He glared at the larger screen, waiting for a response, but none came. You held your breath. Were you actually going to hear Megatron? Even if he was on Nemesis and couldn’t do anything to you while you were safely at the base, the thought terrified you. At the same time, you wanted him to answer, to figure out if everything was okay, if Knockout was okay. Maybe you would get lucky and the shiny, red mech would answer. However, that scenario was unlikely and everyone would be suspicious if you began fangirling before you could stop yourself.

More silence. Was it supposed to be this long? Did Megatron decide to ignore them?

“Megatron,” Ratchet repeated.

Everyone seemed to freeze, yet there was more silence. You expected it to last as long as the last one, when suddenly a noise hit your ear. A bee-do-beep of someone connecting to the comm link reverberated in the air.

“Megatron has been relieved of his command,” an unfamiliar, intimidating voice shot out of the speakers. There was no picture on the screen identifying who it was. Almost made you wish the 'Cons stayed quiet, but it presented an important piece of information and you were eager to learn more.

Ratchet’s faceplate briefly twisted in confusion before returning to its former stern state. He was probably wondering who it was and how Megatron, being as strong as he is, could be pulled off of his Decepticon throne. The latter was the one currently on your mind, along with if Knockout was well.

“Who is this?” Ratchet questioned.

“ 'Who is this?’ ” the deep voice repeated.

“Have you taken control of the Decepticon vessel?”

All of the humans stared at the huge cybertronian monitor, while Raf stared at Ratchet. Fear of the current situation was written on the young boy’s face.

“I AM the Decepticon vessel

The color drained from your face at that news. The warship was alive? Whaaa…

"Any Cybertronian who interferes with my mission will be neutralized,” Nemesis continued.

The previously green screen suddenly hosted large pictures of frozen Decepticons. It flickered through three individual images, displaying some vehicons frozen to panic and insecticons on the ceiling unmoving. To your dismay or relief, it didn’t show Knockout. It only left you feeling restless at the uncertainty of his condition. Then they faded away to how the console appeared before.

“What mission?” Ratchet asked in a less authoritive tone, most likely a result from processing the new, alarming information.

“Priority one, decrypt Iacon database and recover Decepticon technology.” he spoke as if reading a script

“For what purpose?” the medic pressed for more information.

Everyone stayed focusing on the blurry, static picture as if it would change into something interesting. No reply. Then the static identification picture blinked out as the link ended.

“He hung up? Rude!” Miko commented and crossed her arms. You stared at her. Clearly her priorities were pretty mixed up if her first concern was a huge warship being rude, rather than the fact the Decepticon vessel just got a mind of its own and is holding the 'Cons hostage or worse.

There was no telling how dangerous it could be. Although, your top concern was what happened to Knockout. You prayed with all of your heart he was safe.

“Rude?!” Apparently, the older agent had the same thought as you. “There’s a giant spaceship, flying around, collecting Decepticon weapons of mass destruction!” He waved his hands around.

“Ah ah,” Jack interrupted, “A ship filled with neutralized Decepticons.”

“How does that make it any better?” you questioned.

“This could our only chance to slip aboard and download the Iacon database,” the teenager explained. He pointed up as if the ship were above you.

“So Optimus can decode it,” Raf finished Jack’s thought.

You nodded and had to agree. It was a great plan, and you were surprised it never occurred to you.

Ratchet turned to them, staring down as he processed it. “Ingenious.” He was clearly impressed. He looked up with certainty. “I will infiltrate the Decepticon warship.”

“No!” you blurted out. Provided, you were mostly concerned about Knockout, but you still cared about your other Cybertronian friends.

“Not ingenious,” Jack disagreed, putting emphasis on the first word. “You saw what it did to the Decepticons.”

“And probably Megatron too,” Raf added.

“And team Prime,” Miko read more off the list of Cybertronians who were neutralized. Her gaze became hard and serious.

“Yeah. We can’t have you frozen too,” you objected.

“But that tub had me dead to rights, and I’m still breathing,” Fowler pointed out, smiling.

“The ship may be blind to humans,” Jack concluded the best answer.

A smile crept onto your face as a plan cooked in your mind.

“Very well, Agent Fowler,” the Cybertronian reluctantly agreed. “But at the first sign of trouble, I am bridging you right back here.” He shifted to face the console and pulled out what looked to be an alien version of a USB, like what Jack had that restored Optimus Prime’s memory. “Now, in order to download the database, you will need a compatible transfer drive.” He held out the USB, which was relatively the same size as a book. A slightly oversized book.

“A what?” Fowler had confusion written all over his face as he took the drive with two hands.

“He’ll also need tech support,” Raf volunteered with a smirk, knowing that he’d be coming along.

“And backup,” Miko nodded with her arms crossed.

“Which includes me.” You stood tall. You wanted to help your friends. Besides, it would be cool to go on the ship and possibly see your favorite Decepticon. It would be nerve-racking, but your excitement removed any fear.

“Hrmm, very well,” the medic grumbled. Faltering over to the controls for the groundbirdge, he punched in the coordinates and the way through started up out of nowhere.

The colors danced around in a wonderful phenomenon, however your eyes and mind had grown accustomed to it with how frequently it was used. You took a deep breath to steel yourself, knowing that the enemy’s vessel was on the other side.

“Be careful,” Ratchet reminded, his voice taking a more gentle tone.

“We will,” Jack nodded before marching through.

they casually walked in, confidence boosted by the fact they were all paralyzed. They all stood there, towering over you. The fact that they were so stiff and lifeless made it feel like a horror movie. As soon as Fowler made it through, the swirling vortex closed behind you as if it was never there.

“Fowler to base. We’re in,” the agent reported back with the drive tucked beneath his right arm.

“Good,” Ratchet answered. “Their data core should be accessible from any console.”

All of you began your trek through Nemesis’ dark and long corridors. They all stood there, towering over you. The fact that they were so stiff and lifeless made it feel like a horror movie. Miko stared up and Jack stepped over a giant foot.

Was the fact that the corridors were long mentioned before? Because you were beginning to sweat. You prayed that you wouldn’t have to walk much farther. Then again, this is a Cybertronian sized ship. What did you expect? And of course Megatron would have to punish the Decepticons with long walks and halls that all looked the same!

Raf gulped when you reached the end of the corridor and it split into two, “H-here’s one.” He tentatively point to the right.

Your prayers were answered, both of them. A console, and the one you wanted to see the most.

You spied Knockout, frozen and leaning on the console. He may have been paralyzed, but at least he was still alive. It made your heart ache and wish you could help him. However, it was probably better that he wasn’t awake, so he would be unable to squish any of you. That was the problem with him being a Decepticon.

The Japanese girl ran up to him. She banged her fist on him three times. Knock, knock knock! You had to clamp your hand over your mouth and bite your tongue to prevent yourself from screaming at her to be careful, not hurt him, or mess up his finish.

“Doc Knock is knocked out,” she grinned with satisfaction.

You smiled slightly and loosened up at  Miko’s joke, finding it somewhat humorous. Although you felt guilty for it.

After Miko confirmed that Knockout wouldn’t be awake to hurt you, you were the first to run over. Your eyes stared up at him and all of his shiny glory. The way the light from the console shone on him and causing the illusion of his color being slightly altered was magnificent. He was even more hot in person, especially this close.

Your heart skipped a beat. You had never been that close to him before! After some hesitation, and wiping your hands on your pants, you lightly ran your fingers against his finish. Although it wasn’t long, since you didn’t want to ruin perfection with your oils. It felt so smooth and glossy. A touch of heaven. That made you both want to touch it more, and afraid to touch it in fear you would spoil it. You were dragged back to reality and took a step back when Raf began speaking.

“Look. The ship’s decoded two sets of Iacon coordinates.” Raf stepped closer and stared up at the console with wide eyes. Red from the screen reflected off of his glasses. A beep cut through the eerie silence and a row of random lines was added to the other two. “Three!” he added. The young boy flipped around to Fowler and the drive. “Let’s rip and run.”

“Okay,” you nodded and stared up, trying not to lock your gaze on the red mech since everyone was watching. “How’re we gonna get up?”

Without any words, Raf rushed to the bottom of Knockout’s pede with Agent Fowler following closely behind. You tilted your head in question of what they were going to do when they began climbing on the Cybertronian, using him like a ladder to get up. A bright red blush to rival your crush’s armor sprang onto your face. It came into realization that you would have to do the same.

“There’s the port,” Raf said once he reached the top, but you hadn’t made it up yet.

You never felt more nervous in your life. At first thought, you considered taking your shoes off, as to not scuff the paint. However, you were doubtful of how clean your socks were, besides, the others would question why you took your shoes off. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you placed a shaky hand on Knockout to steady yourself as you hesitantly began climbing.

“Sorry, Knockout. Please forgive me,” you whispered under your breath, facing down in attempt to make this plead unheard by the others above you.

Your face became a more radiant red, if that was possible as you made your way up him. You did everything in your power to not get finger smudges on him. Thankfully, the way he was leaning forward made it easier to scramble up, rather than having to vertically scale him.

Fowler and Raf had moved a lot quicker than you as you were hesitant and careful. You heard the drive click into the port and a soft beep emanated from the data being downloaded. When you reached the top, you stayed standing on Knockout, on the black part between his head and red shoulders, for a few seconds, not wanting to leap off of him. You debated sitting on his shoulder or not. At first you decided you had a job to do and the others may judge, although it was a shame considering you would probably never be the same position again.

Taking a glance down, you noticed that Miko and Jack decided not to climb up. Another blush crept up as you realized that you didn’t need to climb up. Well, it was done. Now you wanted to stay, and you were glad you were able to touch him so much. You pressed your lips together into a line and pondered it. On second thought you decided you would sit, you didn’t need to stand on the console. They didn’t need your help. Besides, you were afraid you would accidentally press a wrong button on the control panel if you did.

With a smile, you sat on his shoulder. You made a small prayer that your pants were clean enough. It felt nice sitting there, like you belonged there. You were convinced you could have stayed like that forever. When you were sure no one was looking, you stared down and admire Knockout’s face.

That’s when a brilliant and awesome idea came into your head.  What if you took a selfie? That would be like a dream come true, aside from actually being friends with or dating him. It was risky, as in they could very well spot you doing it… It was too tempting. You would probably never get the opportunity for this again. The rewards outweighed the risk, and you simply couldn’t help yourself.

You stepped down and flipped out your phone. After tapping on the camera, you started to angle it correctly.

“Seriously?” Miko on the ground shook her head in disbelief.

“When else will I get a chance like this?” Your eyes stayed fixed on the phone screen, carefully positioning the phone so it gets both you and Knockout’s face without dropping your phone. Dropping it this high would probably break it. With the way his helm was dangling from being shot with the paralyze beam, it made it more difficult than you wanted.

Upon clicking the button to take the picture a few times, you smirked and examined the selfies. They were clear and fit enough you and him in. It was a little dark, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. If you activated the flash, you’d have the whole room’s shifting their focus onto you. Apparently the teenage girl decided to ignore you, because she wasn’t paying you any attention now. Thankfully, no one else seemed to take notice of her remark. You were very giddy and grateful that you got the opportunity to do that. You felt like a kid left in a candy store, told you could get whatever you want.

Miko and Jack below stared up. They studied the screen and the warship’s destination displayed on it.

“Um, why is the warship heading for Manhattan?”  Jack inquired upon peering closer at a smaller screen to the left of the larger one.

Everyone else followed his gaze to verify the truth of his words. What you saw confirmed it. It displayed a map of the north section of the western hemisphere. One moving circle hovered above the Atlantic ocean, most likely where you were located now, and the other stayed grounded in New York.

Raf’s eyes shifted back over to the decoded coordinates. The first set was flashing. “Because that’s where first set of coordinates are located?”

“What?!” you let out in surprise, sitting up straighter and almost standing. Thankfully, this didn’t draw any attention to yourself and they didn’t notice you sitting on the Decepticon. They were too concerned with processing the information and staring at the screen.

Fowler’s face displayed fear like you had never seen from him before. “What would a relic from Cybertron be doing in the Big Apple?”

“The Iacon relics landed on Earth eons ago, Agent Fowler,” Ratchet explained gravely on the other side of communications, “long before the city was built atop it.”

Jack immediately deciphered the meaning of the situation. “Which means if the ship wants this one it may have to move some buildings out of the way.”

All of the present humans’ eyes stayed locked on the map in horror. The Nemesis clearly  had lots of power, and without the Decepticons controlling it, it would make no effort to stay hidden. It would simply use all the fire power it could to complete its goal. How much damage would be caused and how many lives would be taken if it reached the city?

“Our mission just got complicated,” Fowler stated while pressing the earpiece. “How do we deter this ship?”

As he spoke, you noticed the other two humans, climbing up. Barely managing to stop the whine that desired to vibrate in your throat, you hopped onto the platform for the console’s keyboard. You couldn’t help but cross your arm and glare whenever Jack and Miko appeared in your line of vision for ruining your time with Knockout. Instead you averted your gaze to the map as they stepped onto the same platform as you. Normally you’d be nervous and doubting if it could support everyone’s weight, although these uncertainties to the back of your head. Raf was staring down, holding his chin while he thought.

“I would advise disabling the navigation module. Call up the main navigation menu,” Ratchet instructed.

You followed everyone’s gaze to the controls to the left of the one you stood on.

“There,” Raf pointed. How he knew that the other panel was for the navigation, you had no idea. It looked exactly the same as the one you were on. Maybe because it was under the screen displaying the map.

Before the boy could make any other movement, Agent Fowler lifted his hand in front of him. “Step aside, son.”

He leaped to the other side. When he tried to figure out how to make it work, it pressed his hand onto a slab of metal that stuck out slightly farther than the rest. As soon as his hand came into contact, there was a zap. Electricity danced around his hand. You and the other three jolted in shock. The government agent groaned previous to falling backwards unconscious. Unfortunately, backwards was right off the platform.

“Agent Fowler!” Jack cried out.

All of you rushed to reach him, but it was too late. He took a heavy hit as he slumped to the floor. You cringed at the muffled bang of him colliding with the ground. All you could do was pray that the damage from both the shock and falling would only be temporary. He rolled over and groaned weakly.

“System access detected,” the same voice from early on the comm broke you out of your transfixed horror. Once again, you and the other three jumped and hastily searched the room, although this time out of fear. Your figures were rigid. “Interference will not be tolerated.”

“There,” Raf said once he spotted it.

He pointed up at something that resembled an egg poking out of the ceiling and lowering slightly. It was shiny and black. If you were seeing correctly, you thought you saw a camera installed in it. It swiveled around to scan the room.

“Reveal yourself,” it demanded. At one point, the camera seemed to point straight at you

“It doesn’t see us,” Miko grinned in victory, loosening up her fighting stance.

You felt yourself smile a little, relieved at the good news.

“Yet,” Ratchet grumpily reminded. “The ship must not be scanning for carbon-based life-forms. But once it widens its search parameters…”

“We’re toast,” Raf finished.

“I’m bridging you back.”

“No,” Jack waved his hands in an 'X’ while firmly refusing. “There are millions of lives at stake in New York, and we four are currently the only ones who can do anything about it.”

Once again, Jack was the master of logic, and you agreed. If humans couldn’t be seen, then the four of you were the only ones who could save everyone. You glanced down, shifting from Fowler to Knockout, your eyes lingering on the red mech. You didn’t want the same thing to happen to you, but you needed to stop this thing to save Knockout from this frozen state… oh, and the Autobots… aaaannd all the other people in New York that you completely just forgot about. Apparently Knockout’s life, although he wasn’t technically dead, meant more to you than millions of people. You had strange priorities. Maybe it was time you got them straight and/or took some therapy… Nah!

“If it knows we’re here now, shouldn’t we talk more quietly so it doesn’t detect us through sound?” you urgently whispered.

“The sounds you’re making is too quiet  for the ship to detect,” the medic answered you. “You’re out of your element, Jack. These readings, the ship’s rapid recovery,” he listed, “all point to the fact that Megatron employed Dark Energon to repair it.”

Jack had leaped down when Ratchet was speaking. “Hold on,” Jack interrupted as he took Fowler’s pulse. “If you’re saying the ship is fueled by dark Energon, we can dump it, right?”

Miko and Raf lowered themselves on the edge and let themselves drop to follow Jack. They landed on their feet with zero apparent injuries.

It probably wasn’t a long way down if they were fine, but it looked unsettled from your position. You bit your lip as you prepared yourself to jump. However, when counting down from three, you stopped on two because of an idea floating into your brain. You practically skipped back to Knockout and climbed down on him. Not only did you get to touch him again and be close to him

“Hmm,” Ratchet made a sound of approval you never thought you’d hear. “You’ll need to reserve the warship’s Energon infuser. Follow the main overhead conduits,” he instructed.

“I think I should stay here,” you stated, holding your hands close to you, “in case anything changes on the screen and to watch Fowler. I don’t think we should move him in this state and I don’t think we should just leave him either.”

They nodded. “Good idea,” Jack approved, “Just stay out of trouble.” With that, they bolted down the corridor, following Ratchet’s directions.

“I will.” You mumbled as they turned out of sight, “Not much trouble I can get into just sitting here.” You knew what they meant, don’t get neutralized. Then once again, your eyes landed onto the familiar glossy finish.  With a smirk, you added, “Well, if he were awake I see how I could get into trouble.”

Most of your time was spent admiring Knockout, sitting on him and kicking your legs back and forth. You occasionally glance at Fowler or the screen to make sure nothing changed. To most, it may have been uninteresting, but considering that most did not have an obsession with a shiny red Decepticon, or maybe most would if they knew his existence, you were occupied with studying every detail of Knockout. The only thing that could make it better is if he were awake, in a situation where you’re friends, and you could talk.

While gazing into his face, you realized something you could do. Something you were tempted to do. Kiss him. Your face flamed up to the same color as his armor. You could do it, no one would see. Wait a second, there were probably security cameras, although even if that weren’t a possibility, you’d still be hesitant just because it’s embarrassing. Whining slightly, you bit on your lip as you restrained yourself.

A sound of smooth motors moving distracted you from your current daydream. Your eyes immediately leapt to the ceiling to observe a gun device lowering and pointing at you.

“I am infested with alien life-forms!” Nemesis growled.

It must have widened its search enough now. “Uh oh.” You let yourself slid off of Knockout. Fortunately, the cannon was aiming higher, probably at your head, thus it just barely missed Knockout. You were barely look back at the blaster before it began firing again. A light blue electrical orb sailed over your head as you ducked and bolted out of its path. Your head turned all over the place, with your hair flying, to find a place to hide.

Strangely enough, when the fact that it was an area built for larger creatures was taken into account, there weren’t many places to take cover. One of the few places you spotted was underneath the console controls, a dark pocket to stay out of sight. That was the area you rushed to. Blood pounded in your ears as you pumped your legs as fast as you could, paranoid that a blast would hit you.

Once in the cover of the shadows, your eyes searched for any danger. You noticed Fowler still passed out on the floor. Fortunately, the warship seemed to completely pass over Agent Fowler, probably since it already shocked him. That made it easier for you; all you needed to worry about was yourself. In the middle of your thought, you spotted the gun lowering itself until it saw you. Without any time to spit out a curse at your luck, you lurched out of the way.

“All parasites will be eradicated!” it shouted again.

The only other place you could go to avoid being neutralized was behind Knockout. You didn’t want him to get him himself from being your shield; however that blaster wasn’t giving you much of a choice. You ducked behind him, your back just an inch away from touching him. The balls that Nemesis attempted to throw at you buzzed upon coming into contact with him. “Sorry.” You hoped it wasn’t hurting him.

It seemed like it ran out of options of how to freeze you, or maybe it just hadn’t calculated another way yet. Before it could, the gun slowly choked and paused like a lawnmower running out of gas.

“Critical power drain. I am… in… command. Prepare to be… neutralized…” The final string of its power and command was undone. It sputtered while being pulled back into the ceiling, a welcomed action that caused you to sigh in relief. The light began to fade from red to blue.

“They must have done it.” You smiled in victory.

The screens and lights faded from creepy red to a pleasant blue, not to different from the color of energon or the Autobots’ optics. The room was still dim, yet it filled you with hope and served as another sign that the mission was accomplished. Agent Fowler was gradually waking up. You were unaware if the damage had simply worn off, or if all the Cybertronians who were hit would presently wake up.

Your gaze shifted to Knockout. You felt guilty about using him as a shield, but now you were worried about something else. What if he wasn’t paralyzed anymore? He did seem to be slumping over more. You decided to hide in case he wakes up, not wanting him to crush you or be disgusted by a human. If he was disgusted at the sight of you it would break your heart. You managed to drag Fowler under the console into hiding with you, to prevent him from meeting the fate you imagined.

Upon seeing Jack, Miko, and Raf dash to you, a rush of joy came over you. The fear of being caught by a non-neutralized Decepticon flowed out of you and was replaced with euphoria for saving the day and the mission completed. You came out of hiding under the console to meet them. The whole time you moved as quickly as you could while helping Fowler walk.

“You’re back! Is there a button we need to press to make the Cybertronians go back to normal or-” you began, wanting to make sure Knockout and the Autobots would be able to move again.

“They’re already waking up.” Jack pointed behind him, “We saw Megatron unfreeze. We need to get out of here.”

“Megatron?!” Your eyes widened and felt a scare cord being struck at the tyrant’s name. Your friends were brave.  Then your brows furrowed in confusion, since Knockout was still frozen. Then you nodded when you remember how many times he was hit when you were hiding. Of course it would take him longer to come out of it, considering that the ship was firing every three seconds.

Miko slung Fowler’s arm over her shoulder. "On your feet, soldier!” She aided you, taking the man’s weight out of your hands.

“And beavers and ducks and walnuts and grandma?” he deliriously spoke while flailing his other arms as much as you would allow. With that he wiggled out of yours and Miko’s hold, causing him to fall onto the ground again. Miko appeared seriously freaked out. If it weren’t for the still dangerous circumstances you were in, you might have laughed.

A beep emitted from the monitor which drew your attention to it. A fourth Iacon relic location was revealed. The bar that displayed the download progress was half way filled.

“That’s all that’s been downloaded?!” Jack exclaimed in frustration at the slow rate of progress.

Maybe it would have been better to let Nemesis stay in control for just a little longer to download more. Then again, that wouldn’t have been an option considering that it detected you humans just seconds before you shut it off. If it had seen you sooner, you all may have been immobilized.

“The Iacon file must be huge!” Raf reasoned in attempt to calm the older teenager.

The whirring of a groundbridge appearing from behind made you turn around. There it was, your beautiful ride home in all of its colorful glory, although not as glorious as Knockout’s colors you might add. Speaking of which, you probably needed to book it out of there before he awoke.

“Sa-weet!” Miko let out. She attempted to carry Fowler out by supporting his arm on her shoulder. Raf did the same on the other side. “Come on! Here’s our ride!” Her eyes locked onto the portal as they stepped towards it.

You were about to copy their movements when you noticed Jack standing his ground. That was when you remembered the drive. Oh right, you felt like facepalming, you were such a dummy! How could you forget something so important?

Raf noticed it too. “Jack?” he turned his head.

“Get Fowler out of here,” Jack ordered.

“I’ll help.” You ran back to him. You didn’t particularly want to be around when Knockout came out of his neutralized state, for reasons stated above. Although you didn’t want to seem like a coward, especially after the other three dumped the dark energon while you stayed behind. Plus, you were still somewhat reluctant to leave Knockout.

“No, I can handle it, you need to go!” He waved his hand.

“Nope! I’m helping,” you shook your head, firmly refusing.

He sighed knowing that it would absorb too much time to convince you to go. Marching forward, he stared at the drive with the precious downloaded information. “Some’s better than nothing,” he admitted. “I’m not leaving without that drive.” With that he clambered up.

To your amazement, you began crawling up Knockout before Jack did. You grinned at your triumph over your uneasiness about it. Now if only you had remembered gloves. It was painful to feel how oily your fingers were on his flawless finish. You could possibly leave a note apologizing for the fingerprints. You pouted when you remembered that you had to leave as soon as possible and couldn’t linger on his shoulder that time.

Promptly, you hopped off onto the panel and tugged on the drive along with Jack. His back was facing Knockout, while you were facing the opposite way, wanting to see Knockout as you worked. You grunted while pulling on it, the drive showing resistance.

As soon as the Decepticon medic opened his optics, you saw, since you had been staring at him without realizing it. “Uh oh,” your face paled. Your eyes widened, however, not from shock, from staring into his amazing red optics. You didn’t think you’ve ever seen any more gorgeous optics, the way it was a glowing red ring surrounded by dark red. It made you forget everything for a second. Maybe it was worth possibly becoming squished to witness it.

The way he smirked after spotting you just made him twice as hot. At that moment, Jack noticed your reaction and turned around, his facial expression making it clear that he already guessed what happened. He stepped back, completely forgetting about the drive.

Knockout flicked his servo into a long, skinny drill that would be terrifying enough to make it into a horror movie. At this motion, Jack stumbled back and fell. You took another step away while crouching and gnawing on your lip. No, he’s the villain and about to kill you, you can’t be mentally fangirling over how hot he is, you thought to yourself.

“Say 'ahh’,” he spoke in a threatening tone with his smooth voice while moving the drill closer to you and Jack. Yet his face still appeared as handsome as ever and you wished you could take a picture.

“Ah,” you quickly said, before you could stop yourself from following his command.

His drill flinched back and paused. He seemed confused and raised an optic ridge, surprised and amused by your response. A small smile began to creep into his facial features.

“I’m here to offer a second opinion,” Ratchet, who you hadn’t noticed coming through the groundbridge because your attention was set on Knockout, said right before he threw a punch. It knocked the Decepticon medic, who was turning around, into the console with a loud crash. The impact then sent him flying back and hitting the ground, his back facing the ceiling.

You felt bad for him, staring down. Who knew Ratchet could pack a punch like that? Or maybe you should have known. Once again, you were tempted to kiss Knockout, as if your affection would heal him. If there were camera filming, whoever would watch it would think you just walked close to Knockout and not realize unless they actually paid attention. Either that or there would be so much going on they would completely miss it.

Plus, Jack and Ratchet were focusing on each other. It left an opening. In the chaos and what was going on, you’d do it so briskly no one would even notice. It was risky, but the lack of time pressured you. When else will you get a perfect opportunity like that? In the end you decided to go for it.

You allowed yourself to slip down and began rushing to his face as soon as your feet hit the floor. Since you had made your decision so quickly, Ratchet was just beginning to reach over to pick Jack up while you were doing this. Upon reaching the mech’s white faceplate, you leaned in a placed your lips on his cheek for a second. He felt so cool and smooth, like before. However your lips were more sensitive than your fingers, making the experience twice, or even triple, times as amazing.

You heard the drive being pulled out with a shink, which meant it was time to go. After giving him a small peck, you practically skipped around to where they’d see you, feeling giddy with what you’d done.

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Ratchet asked while he searched the room.

“Down here!” you yelled and waved on your tippy toes, now standing just a foot away from the tip of Knockout’s helm.

Ratchet reached down to pick you up after handing Jack, who was in his other hand, the dive. You could have run just fine, but the Autobot medic was faster than you, and he probably wanted to get you out of there as soon as possible.

“Bye,” you yelled and waved happily, still excited from what you accomplished, as you were carried through the tunnel of light.

Although the whole dark energon taking over the Nemesis was a bad thing, you were still happy it happened. If it didn’t, Knockout would now be dead and you wouldn’t get to see him up close or kiss him. You hoped you would see him again soon.

[hollandbaby]

thirsty - fwb!t.h smut

warnings: fucking, spanking, choking, fwb. based on that pic. 

You bit your lip when you saw his instagram story. He sure knew how to tease you, posing shirtless in front of the mirror with his broad shoulders and toned body on display for the world to see. A part of you wanted to believe he’d posted it just for you to see, but you knew that wasn’t true. That didn’t stop your fingers typing a direct message to Tom in response to his story though: yo, chill. You don’t expect an instant response, Tom was a busy man and you knew he was at the gym. But your phone buzzes almost instantly with his response; whatever do you mean ;). You roll your eyes, biting your lip again as you look at his story one more time.

your thirst is showing, holland :)

And with that you lock your phone, not wanting to get too caught up in the butterflies in your stomach. You carry on with some online work which you were doing before Tom’s instagram story got the better of you. Tapping away at your keyboard you distract yourself, immersing yourself into your work, until your phone buzzes again. Your eyes flit down to your screen, doing a double take when you see the notification is from Tom, who had just sent you a photo. And you just about combust there and then; he’d sent you another mirror selfie, this time in nothing but a tight pair of Calvin’s, the lighting better so you can see every muscle on his stomach, the dip of his v line disappearing deliciously into his boxers, making you want to kiss along his skin. His hair is messy and curly, wet from a shower, and he’s biting his lip. You feel your thighs clench as you continue staring at the image, thumb on the corner to keep it from disappearing. God, he’s going to kill me. You let the image disappear, but it’s engrained in your mind, and message him back: someone’s cocky ;). And before you can get back to your work, you see that he’s already typing so you wait until he’s done. What you don’t expect is another photo, this time with his hand gripping his hard on through his boxers, jawline sharp and broad shoulders on full display, his face covered by his phone but his abs on full display. You notice a droplet of water on his chest, presumably from his hair, but the way it glistens on his skin is so immensely sexy.

He’s captioned this one; what was that about my cock? and you swear your panties are soaked. You tell him to come over, now. before saving your work and closing your laptop. As you freshen yourself up, you get a text: already on my way. You change into something less comfortable, a black lace number that Tom’s mentioned he loved on you before. You smirk to yourself as you pose in front of the mirror in the bathroom, sending Tom a picture of yourself captioned don’t dm and drive. Your features are perfectly accentuated by the set; the black lace complimenting the curve of your boobs, your hips appear full and your skin looks smooth as silk. Tom types back a fuck, and before you know it there’s a knock at the door. You pull on a robe, heading to the front door to open it, when you do you’re instantly pulled into Tom’s arms, lips crashing together in a kiss of pent up sexual frustration. That’s the reason you started this agreement in the first place; neither of you wanted a relationship but you both missed having sex. When you got drunk and fucked that one time, it’s been that way ever since.

Tom lifts you off the ground, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he kicks the door closed behind him, not caring that it slams shut. You continue kissing as Tom walks you to your bedroom, you can feel his hardness through his joggers and you groan into the kiss, hands moving to tug on his messy curls. He growls at that, nipping your bottom lip before pulling back to catch his breath, both of you are panting, desperate for air. Tom throws you on the bed, your robe practically off at this point, before climbing on top of you, reconnecting his lips to yours. You run your fingers through his hair before gripping tufts of his curls, Tom’s own hands running down your body to your hips, his index finger moving to your inner thigh, caressing your skin and inching closer and closer to your underwear. You lift your hips up in response to his teasing, moaning against his lips. Tom’s tongue runs along your lower lip as his finger dips into your underwear, feeling your wetness as his tongue caresses your own. You whine against his lips, having enough of his teasing, Tom taking the hint, pulling back and chuckling at you as he undoes the tie on your robe, sliding the silk fabric further open and exposing the rest of your skin and the lacy set you’re wearing. He bites his lip looking down at you, you lift up and slide your robe fully off, throwing it across the room before pulling him into you for another fiery kiss.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Tom groans against your lips, your legs wrapping around his waist and his hips grinding into yours. One of his hands moves to your ass, squeezing the skin before spanking you. You moan against his lips, Tom pulling away to kiss down your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, your chest. “You know how much I like this set on you, don’t you love?”

“Yes, Tom, now fuckin’ get on with it,” you shoot a look at him as he stops his ministrations, causing him to smirk and wink at you. Tom goes back to kissing along your chest, your head rolling back against the sheets, one hand wrapped in his curls as Tom’s own move to your breasts, cupping them as he sucks a hickey on your skin.

“Someone’s needy today,” Tom laughs breathily, reaching behind you to unhook your bra. When he slides the lace fabric off your body his tongue circles your nipple, making you moan.

“Wonder why,” you retort, moaning as Tom’s hand wanders down to your underwear. He rubs your clit through your panties as he continues kissing and sucking the skin on your chest. Tom moves further down your body, cool lips meeting hot skin as he kisses down your torso, along the hem of your panties. He looks up into your eyes as he takes your underwear between his teeth, pulling them down your thighs. You kick them off, Tom kissing your inner thighs as you do so. You feel his hands move to your hips, then in a swift motion, Tom flips you so you’re hovering above his face, his hands still on your hips. You let out a gasp, and Tom pulls you down to his awaiting tongue, immediately licking a strip through your wet folds.

“Already so wet for me?” Tom smirks up at you.

“Shut up,” you groan, one hand reaching for the headboard as your other hand moves to Tom’s hair. He runs his tongue through your folds again, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips grind against his face, his hands squeezing your ass cheeks, giving each a slap for good measure. You’re a moaning mess above him, moving with his tongue as he continuously flicks your clit, your hips picking up their pace as Tom’s own increases. He looks up at you, your head rolling back as your back arches and your thighs quake, hips juttering as you get closer and closer to that sweet release.

Tom pulls away just long enough to say, “cum for me, darling,” before his tongue is back on your dripping pussy, tasting all of you as he coaxes you to your orgasm. You let out your loudest moan of the evening as you cum on his tongue, hips moving rapidly and hand gripping the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white, whilst your other hand grips Tom’s curls keeping his head in place. Tom’s hands are gripping your ass so hard you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark, and he gently licks through your folds as you come down form your high, your grip on the headboard releasing. You lift up off of Tom’s face, leaning down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. You let out a moan against his lips, your kiss a mess of tongue and teeth as you move down his body to straddle him, feeling the material of his joggers under you. Your hands move to the hem of Tom’s t shirt, he pulls away from the kiss just long enough to take his t shirt off, pulling you back in by your neck. Your hands fiddle with his joggers as you pull them down just enough so Tom can kick them, and his boxers, off. The kiss is sloppy and rushed, a passionate clash of teeth and tongue as you focus on what your hands are doing. When Tom’s clothes are completely off, you move your hips, gliding your wet folds on his hard cock, Tom letting out a whimper into the kiss. You continue teasing him like that for a while, getting him worked up and ready for you.

“Please just ride me, now!” He groans as he bites your lower lip. You chuckle, kissing him again before reaching behind you, gripping the base of Tom’s cock and lining it up with your pussy. You lower your hips down on him, your hands come to rest on Tom’s toned chest. You sink down fully on his cock, biting your lip as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him inside you, finally. You lift your hips up before lowering them back down, getting into a steady rhythm. You can feel Tom’s hard chest covered by his smooth skin, and you’re reminded of the picture again. You’re here, riding Thomas Holland; something many people could only dream of. And that gives you a sense of cockiness. You begin to ride him faster, your wetness perfectly lubricating him, and Tom moans at your tightness.

“Feels so good, Tommy,” you moan, mouth agape as your hips move faster. Tom’s hands are gripping your hips, helping your movements. The room is full of lewd noises; your wet pussy and the moans from the two of you accompanying, skin slapping skin as you ride Tom. He’s moaning, his eyes on where your hips meet his own, and when you clench down on him his head rolls back, letting out a loud moan.

“So tight and wet, fuck, baby,” he groans out, completely in bliss at the feeling of your cunt around him. Tom decides he’s had enough of your teasing; your switching of a fast pace to a slower, more sensual one. He wants to make you cum again, so he grips your hips, pulls you in for a kiss and flips the two of you over. You yelp, giggling as Tom smiles down at you; but it soon turns into a moan when he slides his cock back deep inside of you, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of his tip hitting your g spot. You bite your lip, a quiet ‘fuck’ leaving your mouth as Tom quickens his pace, hips slapping against your own as he fucks into you, his eyebrows furrowed as he does so, hair messed up and sweat dripping down his chest. He looks like an adonis. You pull him down by his hair, kissing him to keep yourself quiet, but it’s no use, Tom’s cock feels so good inside you that you’re moaning more frequently than ever; you grip his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom’s pace never falters, only egging him on further.

“Fuckin’ amazing pussy, jesus,” Tom’s breathless, his orgasm fast approaching. You bite his earlobe, causing his eyes to roll back as he hisses. “Get on your stomach for me, babe.”

You do as told, Tom pulling out so you can reposition. You lay on your stomach, hips up and arms out in front of you. You feel Tom move behind you, his hand slapping your ass cheek as his other grips your hip, guiding his cock back into your soaking cunt. You moan as he bottoms out, cock hitting deeper than before. Your hands grip the sheets beneath you as Tom picks up his pace, fucking you from behind in a fervour. Your raspy moans, along with Tom’s deep groans, and the sound of your wetness fills the room.

“Fuck, Tom!” Is all you can say, and all you can do is moan.

“Gonna cum, shit,” Tom’s pace never falters, hitting your g spot repeatedly he snaps his hips against your own. Reaching down he grips your hair in a fist, pulling your body up against his. You moan again, eyes rolling back as Tom’s hand snakes around to choke you, his other moving to rub circles on your clit, his voice in your ear as you both breathily moan, Tom’s cock fucking up inside your tight cunt. You’re close; you feel your thighs shaking and your pussy clenching.

“You gonna cum for me, love?” Tom whispers, voice raspy and taut. He’s fucking you so well, you can barely find the words; your own hips fucking back to meet Tom’s as you moan out; “yes, Tommy! I’m coming!” Tom’s lips are on your neck just below your ear as you cum, his hand holding you up against his toned torso. You clench on him again, Tom’s own orgasm following shortly after, he lets out a strained groan as his hips sloppily thrust up into you. “Fuck, gorgeous, you’re so good.”

You collapse forward, Tom chuckling as you do so. He gently pulls out, fingers reaching between your legs to collect his cum. He brings them up to your lips, letting you wrap them around his digits and tasting him, you twirl your tongue around his fingers to clean them. “So hot,” he bites his lip, you smirking up at him, winking. Tom makes his way to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up. When he comes back into the room you’re on your side, hand under your pillow as you snuggle into the sheets. Tom admires the sight for a moment, before shaking himself out of it, moving to kneel on the bed beside you. He’s wearing his boxers again now, hand moving to clean up the mess between your thighs. Tom gives your ass another slap for good measure, noticing there are marks all over your body from his lips and hands. “Sorry about that,” he nods to the hickies littering your chest and the marks on your ass. You smirk up at him, and judging by the look in his eyes, he’s not sorry at all.

“You should thirst trap on instagram more often.” You wink.

“I will if it leads to this.”

[edupunkn00b]

Servatis (a) Curiositas - Chapter 3: Chess

[ AO3 ] - Hobbies - Aftermath - Chess - Debate - Truth/Lies - Anniversary

Servatis (a) Curiositas / Saving Curiosity - Loceitweek Day 3: Chess - Word Count 2501 Thomas (and Logan) are learning more about the world and Janus is trying to help.

Because when you are with me, I'm free I'm careless, I believe Above all the others, we'll fly This brings tears to my eyes My sacrifice - My Sacrifice, Creed (2001) ---

"Deceit, we've got to do something." Patton lowered his voice, leaning over the counter between the kitchen and the dining area in the common room. "I can't keep summoning you here every time Logan learns about some new horrible thing that's happening in the world."

Janus pressed both hands against the kitchen counter, matching Patton's pose and tone of voice. "We can't just keep him in a pleasant little bubble, either, Morality." Patton glared at Janus, glancing quickly to where Roman sat in the living room, writing in a notebook. "His primary purpose is to encourage intellectual curiosity in Thomas. What will we do when Thomas goes to college in the fall? He's going to keep learning and wanting to—"

"I know that," Patton said through gritted teeth and a grin, "But what if... what if you just nudged him toward things that might make him less..." He let out a frustrated groan. "Listen, I realize we can't keep all the world's knowledge away from him, but... can't we just...."

"How about a nice game of chess?" Roman muttered in a robotic voice. Janus and Patton both whipped their heads around, staring at the Princely side. He'd turned in his seat, watching them argue. Now he shrugged, flipping his hands in a 'duh' motion, "You know... from that old movie Thomas' dad showed him the other night? War Games?" He scoffed at the blank expressions the other two Sides wore. "The boring one with the computers and no songs and the cute nerd had to get the computer to play the right game to learn not to blow up the world..." he waved his hands dramatically, prompting for their recognition.

"Oh, Kiddo, I don't know if that's going to help us here—" Patton began, turning to stand behind the couch, patting Roman's shoulder.

Janus tilted his head, thrumming his fingers on the countertop, "Hmmm, I think it's actually something I can work with..." he nodded to himself before starting up the stairs toward Logan's room. He turned back for a moment and looked into the living room. "Thank you, Roman, you've been very helpful."

Roman beamed under the praise, turning back to his work on Thomas' latest short story with a broad grin. "Happy to help, Sir Hiss-a-Lot," he replied without looking up, failing to see the pained grimace that flashed across Janus' face from the Prince's choice of nickname.

Janus tugged at his gloves, tucking the edges under the sleeves of his fitted jacket as he walked quickly up the stairs and down to the end of hall. He stood outside Logan's door for a moment, counting out a few breaths, attempting to shake off the sting of Roman's apparently unintentional dig at his rapidly emerging snake traits. Janus was able to keep most of his new scales concealed with gloves, long sleeves, and high collars, but he hadn't yet devised a solution to effectively disguise the small constellation of scales growing under his eye and up his temple. His expression suddenly softened, remembering that his scales were not abhorrent to all the Sides, and with that ghost of a smile still on his face, he rapped on Logan's door.

There was no response. After waiting a few moments and failing to hear any sounds at all from the Logical Side's room, Janus knocked again, a little louder this time.

"Is that you?," Logan's quiet voice finally answered, voice cracking.

Janus squeezed his eyes shut at the broken sound of Logan's voice, swallowing against the tightening in his throat. He pushed a smile onto his face, lowering the tone of his own voice into a soft caress. "Yes, it's me, Lo. May I come in, please?"

Janus could now hear movement inside the room, the sound of a drawer closing and Logan's quiet footsteps. After a few more moments, the door finally opened. Janus' heart cracked when he saw the Logical Side. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, lips raw and chapped. Janus looked down at Logan's hands and could see he'd bitten his nails to nubs, and two fingers on his left hand had small bandages on the tips. Logan's clothes were wrinkled, but he'd clearly made an effort just before he'd opened the door to tuck in his shirt and straighten the new pale blue tie Janus had left for him last Christmas. "Are you alone?" Logan asked, peering over Janus' shoulder. "I... I know I must apologize to Patton, but I am not yet ready—" Logan's voice cracked again and he hung his head, shoving his shaking hands into his pockets.

Desperate to give whatever comfort he could, Janus brushed the back of his gloved fingers against Logan's cheek. "I'm not here to force you to do anything, Lo. I merely wanted to check on you and to see if you wanted some company."

Logan nodded, opening the door all the way. Closing and locking it behind them, Logan turned back to Janus. He gestured toward his reading table, "Would you like to sit down?"

"If you'll sit with me," Janus said with a grin. He watched as Logan went to his desk to retrieve his chair. A few pens were strewn about the surface of his desk and Logan took a moment to return them to his new soft pencil case. Remembering the sound of the drawer closing when he was still outside in the hall, Janus couldn't stop himself from asking, "Have I interrupted your work, Logan?"

Logan looked up, a dark blue pen still in his hand. His eyes darted over to his bottom desk drawer before focusing on Janus' open expression. "No, no, not at all, Janus." He cleared his throat, tucking the last pen into its compartment in the case and lifted his chair. "I was merely making some notes," he shook his head. "You did not interrupt me from anything important."

Sliding the chair into place across from Janus at the small table, Logan sat down, hands folded tightly in his lap. "That's good to hear, Logan," Janus murmured, peering carefully at the Logical Side. Logan fidgeted in his seat, chewing at the inside of his lower lip and rocking his foot back and forth under the table. He kept his gaze down, looking at the floor or at his hands. "Would you..." Janus began quietly, eyes never leaving Logan's face and body language, "Would you like to talk about it?"

Logan's opened his mouth, finally looking up at Janus. His cheeks flushed and his mouth snapped shut again, looking away and shaking his head. "I... I just need to think."

Drawing his mouth tight, Janus shifted in his seat, leaning back and away from the Logical Side. "Lo? It... it seems like my presence is... bothering you. I would rather not leave you alone right now, but if you think it would help you, I can—"

"No, please don't go!" Logan's hand shot out, reaching for Janus across the table.

Nodding quickly, "I won't go, then." Janus leaned closer and lightly covering Logan's hand with his own. "I'll stay as long as you want me to, Lo. I won't go anywhere," he said again.

Logan took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he eased back into his chair, pulling his hand back. Again, he brought both hands together in his lap, pushing down on his knees to stop their sudden bouncing. Janus let his hand remain the tabletop.

"Perhaps... perhaps we could read together?" Logan asked at last, eyebrows slightly raised. "I know we have not yet finished the Dostoyevsky... but I've just started a new book by Howard Zinn that is quite compelling...." Logan began to rise, reaching for the dog-eared history book on his nightstand.

Janus put his hand on Logan's arm, stopping his movement, "I had another idea, actually... when was the last time we played chess?" Logan watched as Janus conjured a polished wooden chess board with elaborate carved pieces on the table in front of them. Janus palmed one king in each gloved hand, then presented his closed fists to the Logical Side. "Pick one."

Logan took his seat, watching Janus intently, and tapped his left hand. Janus turned over both, revealing that Logan had chosen the white king. "Your move, Lo" he murmured.

He took a deep breath and pondered the board for a moment before sliding a pawn up two spaces, freeing the queen's bishop. Janus grinned, and used his turn to free his knight. They played in relative silence for several moves, the quiet only broken by little thoughtful hums and one surprised laugh when Logan captured one of Janus' bishops in a particularly risky move.

"I could have taken your knight, but I didn't want to leave my King exposed," Janus murmured, fingers steepled as he surveyed the board. "There's no way you could have known with certainty that I wouldn't have taken that risk."

"And that is precisely why I now have your bishop." Logan smiled for the first time that evening. "You believed I would make the cautious choice."

Janus looked at the pieces on the board with fresh eyes. What he'd originally dismissed as careless mistakes borne from a still-disordered emotional state, he now recognized as strategy. Not only had Logan effectively blocked in his Queen with his knights but he had put him three moves from checkmate. Janus scoured the board for an escape. "Oh..." he grinned at the Logical Side, moving his remaining bishop closer to the center of the board. If he sacrificed his last bishop to Logan's queen, his own queen could force the other into a checkmate. He met Logan's eyes, "I've got you now."

"Hmph," Logan raised an eyebrow, "I highly doubt that." Logan stared at the board, tilting his head. Janus watched how his eyes danced from square-to-square. He could practically see the pieces moving in Logan's thoughts, playing out the different permutations. Where he saw a risk, his brow would furrow slightly, eyes narrowed. Whenever Logan had a particularly exciting idea, his lips would twitch and he would dance his fingers around like he was tapping the air. Suddenly Janus realized that Logan's lips were moving and his bright eyes were staring back at him. "I said it is your turn, Janus."

Blinking and bowing his head to rest on his hands in front of him to hide his blush, Janus murmured, "Yes, of course. Thank you. I was lost in thought..." Janus stared at the board, trying to identify which piece Logan had moved during his turn.

Logan looked closely at Janus, reaching out across the board to pat his forearm, "You seem distracted. If you are tired, we can always stop and resume— "

"No!" Janus said more forcefully than he'd intended. He cleared his throat and pressed a smile onto his face. "I mean, no, I'm not too tired to play with you," he smoothly assured Logan, forcing his shoulders down into a more relaxed pose. "I wouldn't want to end this game prematurely. I still have to get you into checkmate, don't I?"

Logan smiled again and sat back in his seat, hands folded loosely in his lap, "You are welcome to try."

Logan and Janus played many more matches over the following weeks and months, each game ending with a narrowly won victory for one of the Sides and the promise of a rematch for the losing player.

Late one evening, after bidding Logan goodnight, Janus stepped into the hallway, closing Logan's door behind him. Patton was waiting.

"Morality..." Janus purred, papering over the dopey grin he could still feel tugging at his lips. Patton silently beckoned Janus toward his room.

The moment he stepped over the threshold into Patton's room, Janus let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The room was warm and smelled like vanilla, brightly light with a diffuse, rose-gold glow. Framed pictures of Thomas—and the Sides—at various ages lined the walls and were displayed on nearly every surface in the room. Janus had not been inside Patton's room since Thomas' freshman year of high school and, while the feeling of the room had not changed, there were so many new additions that it was difficult to discern any one image.

Difficult, but not impossible.

Standing just inside the room, Janus' eyes were drawn to the pictures of the Sides. Nestled in the back corner of a side table, he spotted a familiar navy and gold picture frame. Partially obscured by a picture of Roman decorating a Christmas tree, he could only see the very top of the picture it contained, but Janus could see enough to make out carefully parted hair, black rectangular eyeglasses and thoughtful eyes staring at the camera. He could see the top half of his own, younger, head, as well. His face in the photo was scale-free and facing the bespectacled Side next to him, the top portion of his wide, open-mouthed smile just barely visible.

Janus remembered that day. Even without seeing the bits of the wall behind them in the image, he knew it had been captured during a game night in the common room just as Janus had leaned over to give a hug to the winning player. Janus closed his eyes, remembering how warm he'd felt in his arms, remembering how contagious his joy had been, remembering the musical sound of his laughter, remembering afterwards when—

"Deceit." with a near-audible snap, Patton's voice brought Janus' focus back to the present moment.

Closing the door with a whispered click behind them, Patton stepped further into his room then turned to face Janus. "I'd offer you a seat but this won't take long. I don't want to keep you from the rest of your evening." He stared at Janus for a moment before smiling broadly, hands on his hips. "While we all appreciate your help with—" Patton gestured vaguely behind Janus at the door and hallway behind him. "I didn't realize how often you have been visiting him even when I don't summon you. I heard someone leaving Logan's room late at night twice this week." Patton crossed his arms in front of his chest, tilting his head and squinting at the other, his mouth curved in the shape of a smile. "Was that you?"

Janus lifted his chin and pulled himself up to his full height. He raised an eyebrow at the Paternal Side and narrowly avoided sneering. "I do not need your permission to come to this side of the Mindscape."

"Well... no, you're right, you don't right now. I just think it might be better for Logan to see if... less frequent visits would be good for him." Patton tilted his head at Janus, "Does that make sense to you? He seems to be doing a lot better... He's not having as many episodes and he calms down a lot faster when he does."

He smiled brightly at Janus, stepping closer and reaching for the door, clearly preparing to dismiss him. "Why don't we have you stay more in... your area, and we'll see how it goes for everyone? We both just want what's best for Thomas... and for Logan. We wouldn't want to have to make any other big changes for him, right?" ---

taglist: @the-dead-and-the-decaying @loceitweek2021

[dirt-cup-draco]

Severus Snape x Reader- Starstruck (2/2)

Part 1 found here---> Ta Da

Previously:

Wand still posed against your neck he dragged you back to the abandoned house. Only when you were safe inside, having cast a protective charm on the place, did he release you. Spinning on your heel you brought your palm up to his cheek swiftly, the sound of you smacking him ringing out against the silent night. “That was for acting like a pig,” You sniffled, pride wounded.

 And then, you grabbed the front of his robes, lips slanting against his, all teeth and tongue. His hands stalled just above your hips, unsure of what to do next. “And that, was for saving my life,” You panted. 

Too concerned with your safe arrival it went unnoticed by all in the order, including yourself, that for the first time since he was a schoolboy, Severus Snape was a little bit flustered, and a whole lot starstruck. 

You wished that you could say the days after your rescue had been peaceful and filled with bliss. In reality, you found yourself overwhelmed during the day and terrified during the night. Molly was darling and you appreciated her to no end, but you were growing weary of the questions and constant attention. When she realized you weren’t fond of answering her prodding inquiries, she pretended as if nothing was wrong. You were glad for it but you caught her long glances and pitying stares. 

Sirius tried to be helpful too, having more insight on what you might’ve been through than Molly, but his attempts also fell flat. His best idea was to coax you to eat, encourage you to put the weight that you had lost from being withheld from food and water for all the time that you had been tortured and on the run. You wanted it to help but you had no appetite, but the demons in the back of your mind made your stomach churn with memories you wanted to forget. 

It all came to a head one night when Arthur had joined you all for dinner. He was a bit too boisterous, a bit too excited. He was a fun and loving man and you never wanted him to change, yet the way he slammed his silverware down on the table as he told another joke you weren’t quite listening to startled you and his long and deep laughs unsettled you, reminding you of the taunting you had endured. 

Your hands began to shake and you felt your heart begin to pound relentlessly. You stood, hands quivering and face pale as you looked apologetically to the friends in front of you. “Excuse me,” You squeaked, leaving no other explanation as you ran upstairs, finding the room that Sirius was allowing you to stay in “for as long as you needed”  he had said. 

Severus watched with what appeared to be boredom but deep beneath the surface he felt some...concern. Ever since you were a first year in Hogwarts, Severus had been able to see a fire within you, it seemed as if current events had been steadily stomping that fire out. It caused an ache in his chest where he hadn’t thought one possible. 

“Oh dear,” Molly sighed beside him, worrying at her apron as she began to gather dishes. “The poor dear,” 

“No use in pitying the woman,” Severus vocalized. 

Molly ground her teeth together, rounded cheeks flushing red. “She’s been through-” 

“I didn’t say she hasn’t been through difficult and unspeakable things,” Severus remarked, taking no time to apologize for his interruption of Molly’s oncoming scolding. “But pitying her will not take that away. Y/N needs space,” 

“She needs care!” Sirius interjected. “Something I don’t think you’d know about,” 

Severus bristled, his steely gaze locked on his old tormentor. “I shall be turning in for the night. The meal was filling as always Molly,” He chose his words carefully, knowing the balance in grimmauld place was an unstable one. The rest of the order let him retreat in silence, keeping their mouths closed, lips pressed together in thin lines. 

Severus took the room across from yours, lingering in the hall for just a moment. He heard nothing and assumed you must have fallen asleep despite the horrors that were clearly plaguing you. You had opened his eyes to something new that he had never considered before: opening his heart again. Your kiss had left him rattled to say the least. 

He told himself it was simply out of relief and appreciation but you always had a kind word for him, a sympathetic smile, when everyone else in the room only had cold shoulders and clipped sentences. You were objectively, a pretty woman. He could appreciate the shape of your body, the lilt of your voice, the edge to your wit. You had intelligence and nerve but you didn’t use it to ground others beneath your feet. Your kindness was given freely. 

Which is why it had begun to pain him, pondering of the weight of your torture and how it must be eating away at you. He would take your struggles and burdens onto his own shoulders if he could and that is how Severus knew you had captured his heart. It had been decades since he had cared for anyone other than himself. 

Being unable to rest, Severus took out a book and settled against his headboard for the night, his readers slipping over his nose as his head started to nod some time after ending the seventh chapter. The words blurred on the page but suddenly snapped back into focus as he heard a scream that melted into a whimper and ended with a cry. He was at full attention now as your senseless pleas and screams rang from your room. 

Had you begged and cried in a similar way when you had been tortured? Severus couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Climbing from his bed he padded across the room, rough wood floors creaking beneath his feet. It seemed your cries didn’t only wake him, for when he opened his bedroom door he found Tonks and Remus peering out of their bedroom with bleary and sleep glazed eyes.

“Should we wake her?” Tonks asked, looking between Severus and her husband, a yawn tugging itself from her lungs. Remus gave Severus a long look as he closed his bedroom door behind him, taking a step forward to your room. 

“I can help her,” He explained as the werewolf continued to eye him wearily. 

“I thought she needed space,” Remus had an argument resting heavily on the tip of his tongue.

Suddenly, your voice rang out clearly, “S-severus please, help me, I’m so scared.... so scared.... They’re coming!” It seemed you were still dreaming but you had spoken. It seemed you wanted Severus. 

Taking small pride in this, Severus tried to give Remus a reassuring look that appeared more like a sneer. The couple retreated back to their room as you continued to cry out into the night. Opening your door slowly, Severus surveyed the room, turning on a small lamp that stood in the far corner of the dusty bedroom. It cast a warm glow over the room that hopefully wouldn’t bee to strenuous on your eyes. 

You tossed and turned in your covers, the sheets spinning themselves around your legs and your pillows having fallen to the floor. You whimpered, pressing your face into your mattress as your imagination brought up something despicable to you. Your cheeks were stained with the clear tracks of your tears and Severus prodded himself to approach you. 

“Y/N,” He spoke clearly and sternly but it seemed you couldn’t hear him. “Y/N, you are only dreaming,” He tried again, hand resting gently on your shoulder as he shook you awake, the sudden and foreign rocking waking you in a panic as you shot up. Severus stepped back quickly and narrowly avoided your forehead colliding with his. 

Your breaths were coming out sharp and quick and your head dashed from side to side rapidly, taking in your surroundings. You relaxed some when you realized you were in grimmauld place, safe from any death eaters that may want to harm you. “Oh god,” You cried out, dropping your head into your hands before your head popped up a second later, eyes finding Severus’ as if you were surprised to see him there. “Please tell me you were the only one I woke,” 

“Then I would be lying to you,” Severus answered honestly and you grimaced, guilt filtering through you. “They don’t mind, it’s understandable that you haven’t been sleeping well,” 

“And you? Do you mind?” You had to asked, wiping at the remnants of your tears that had crept past your eyes while you slept. 

“If I was asleep when the commotion began, it might have caused some upset,” 

“Why weren’t you asleep?” 

“Why did you call out for me?” Severus asked instead, eyebrow raised and lips pursed in curiosity. Heat crept up your neck in an obvious blush and Severus liked the rosy color on you. 

“I don’t remember,” You lied. You were fixed with a pointed stare and your defense crumbled. “Because you saved me, I feel better around you. You arrived in my time of need, when you’re around it feels like no one can hurt me,” 

Your honesty, however slow coming, was without filter and Severus could feel his stomach flip in a pleasant way. You felt safe with him. 

Sitting at the end of your bed, Severus set a steady hand on your knee and you seemed to appreciate the gesture, a small smile working it’s way on your lips. “Would you-” He began but clammed up as you continued to look at him. Shaking his head, he decided to abandon his proposition. 

“Would I?” You prompted, voice still shaking from your wicked nightmares but you were starting to tease again and Severus took that as a positive sign. 

“Would you- That is to say-” Severus stumbled, cheeks now rosier than yours. 

“Yes I would like you stay with me,” You finished for him, hand reaching for his. 

“Then I will stay,” 

You held tight when he intertwined your fingers with yours as he maneuvered your bed, laying on his side and holding his arm out straight in front of him as you pressed your back against his chest that was rising and falling with slightly quickened breaths. 

You kept his hand in yours and pulled his arm to rest across your waist and wrap around you. Severus relaxed and tugged you tighter against him, legs tangling with yours. “Is this only because I was the one to your rescue? If it had been someone else-” 

“I didn’t want it to be anyone else,” You said simply, not leaving room for argument and too exhausted to say more. 

It was all Severus needed to know as he kissed the back of your neck in a shy show of affection, the both of you drifting off into a long and peaceful rest. You dreamed of a hooked nose and inky hair while he dreamed of floral shampoo and a kind smile. 

It went unsaid even as Severus crawled into your bed the next night, and the night after that- and many more nights to come- but you were both a little bit starstruck and certainly falling in love. 

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary Those who might like part 2: @paigelin @starofthedawn @giveusbackourbucky @purpledragonturtles

[kisskissbanggang]

Exposure

[15Min Read/3.8K Words - Idol AU - Jungwoo x Paparazzi Female Reader - NSFW/Smut - Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Fellatio, Light Degradation, Dom/Sub Elements]

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Your braids felt too tight. They probably were, but you had rushed to get out to this fanmeet when you caught wind of it. Your boss understood your strengths, and you weren’t about to let that down. Once you were able to get your shots, you wouldn't even think about the dumb braids anymore.

It all started when an exec tried to say you looked too young to be successful as a photographer. No one would take you seriously looking like a high schooler, apparently, and it ruined you for days until you passed by a group of fans waiting for their favorite actor to make an appearance at the mall. These girls got so close and they could get into events that press weren’t allowed into. Even though you had openly applied for a sketchy tabloid job, you knew you needed credits to get ahead, and now you wanted to prove yourself. You had ran home, dug out your high school sweatshirt, pulled your hair into some pigtails, and were able to give the same exec who turned you down some great candid shots. 

So this is what you did now. You perfectly fit in with the gaggles of fansites that would crowd these events, and no one gave you any second glances. You carried your press badge hidden behind a photo card on a lanyard attached to your camera, swapping out photocards for whatever group you were chasing. Today was NCT 127, so the photocard attached to your camera was of Kim Doyoung who, according to your boss, was in talks for some new ventures and could use some new publicity. 

You had chased the group for three days now but every time you attempted a good shot of him, Kim Jungwoo kept getting in the way. They were always shopping together or eating together or doing nothing at home together and you couldn’t get any good shots of this idol alone and the whole chase was driving you crazy. This fire in you blazed when you took this new batch of photos into editing and you noticed. Jungwoo recognized you. More and more in these shots, Jungwoo had caught you in the background of his day, and today he even smiled at you. 

Your boss wasn’t pleased when you said you needed even more time to get some more shots, but nonetheless you still used the company’s money to get yourself on a train for the group’s next concert. This time, in addition to your girlish appearance, you had your equipment stashed in a backpack that you carried with you. You skipped the long line, though, and headed straight to the loading gate in the back of the venue. Press would never be allowed back here, but nonetheless you still walked up to security and did your best to look nervously excited. 

“Oppa,” you modestly smiled at the young guard, really only looking a few years older than you, “you know, it's my birthday, and I saved up money from my part-time job for this concert for months to come here. I really would love to make it even more special.” The man shifted uncomfortably, clearly conflicted about throwing out a young woman just wanting to have a special day until you whipped out a small wad of cash to tuck into the pocket of his trousers. He bit his lip and slipped you a wristband before he ultimately stepped out of the way to let you in, pointing you towards the green room where you and the other groupies could wait. 

You took your time navigating the back hallways of the venue, looking bright-eyed and lost and waiting to sneak out your smaller camera for locations like this. You clipped your press badge onto the strap as you slowly made your way through the backstage area, checking around green rooms and craft services before you came to the makeup rooms. It seemed fruitless, seeing these hallways were much emptier than those you just checked, but you needed to be sure. You slowly made your way down this corridor, taking the time to peek into every open door from the hallway, listening for voices and footsteps all the while, until a hint of motion caught your eye. 

Without making any brash movements in the quiet hall, all you were able to make out was the sinful visual of a figure leaned back over a vanity in an otherwise silent and empty dressing room, a hand stroking their exposed length in their near-privacy. You didn't gasp, you didn't blush, you just felt yourself watch, almost shamelessly enjoying this little private show before the figure pleasuring themselves against the vanity straightened up, their pace on their cock quickening. Jungwoo turned and looked right at you, and now you did gasp, caught as you were, spying on him as he jerked himself. He didn't stop, either. He just watched you watching him, never letting go of himself or slowing. If anything, he became more earnest in his ministrations, holding eye contact as long as you could handle until you were suddenly very aware of yourself. Quickly, you dashed back down the hall, writing this venture off as a wash and trying to find Doyoung somewhere else. 

In order to try and shake off the very different and very unprecedented incident that occurred backstage, you took the first vanilla opportunity your boss softballed out to the staff: a simple press event, a small demo and cocktail party for a trending fashion designer. Thankfully, even Doyoung was invited. You could probably get some good shots and have an easy night all things considered. You picked out a simple dress and jacket, something that wouldn’t make you stand out too much, and clipped your press badge onto a plain black lanyard to actually wear around your neck. Wearing your hair down was an active treat, not having to look forward to sore roots later in the night. 

The party was pretty boring, but boring was what you needed. You were thoroughly set on edge after the other day, and you couldn't place why. You’d seen Kim Jungwoo in a few magazines and occasionally on TV when his group was doing variety, and more than a few times when out doing bigger industry events, but he’d never struck you as the devilish type. However, something about the way he confidently, almost defiantly held your gaze practically stupefied you, even days later. Finally, you caught sight of Doyoung, laughing and having a glass of wine with other tall, beautiful people. You grabbed a few shots before covering the rest of the party, but something caught your eye when you clicked through your digital display to review. Jungwoo. He’d brought Jungwoo with him. 

“It’s a school night,” came a soft laugh over your shoulder, “shouldn’t you be home studying?”

You turned, rapidly growing sheepish as you were faced with Kim Jungwoo standing over you. “I’m sorry?” You apologized as you did your best to look like you didn’t understand. 

“I was wondering when I'd see you again,” Jungwoo smirked, his soft eyes holding a mischievous sparkle in them. “How did you get in here?”

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else,” you smiled cordially. 

“No,” Jungwoo insisted playfully, “I think you look like Doyoung-hyung’s new fansite I've caught poking around.” 

“Fansite?” You shook your head gravely. “I'm sorry, sir, but I'm Press.” You held up your badge on your lanyard, jolting as Jungwoo brazenly reached forward to grab it. He flipped it around to expose Doyoung’s photocard. You must've forgotten to take it out amidst all your distraction. 

“Did you enjoy your private show the other day?” Jungwoo chuckled, even stepping closer to talk low in the crowded party. “You could've joined me. I could've given you something worth shooting.” Jungwoo’s smile was genuine, soft and playful and innocent, but his eyes were hungry enough to make you plenty content with your coverage for the night and hurriedly excuse yourself from him and the party. 

You should have guessed, then, that your boss wouldn’t be pleased to hear that you’d left early. None of your shots of Doyoung had been “provoking” enough for some affiliates, and now you were perched in the bushes outside of the group’s apartment in a last-ditch effort to catch something exposing, something titillating. You had waited all night, watching people come and go and you finally caught some action in an upstairs bedroom. The focus in your camera quietly clicked along after you zoomed in to get a better look. You clicked up your exposure length as you watched with endless satisfaction, catching Doyoung finally get out of bed to work out. He slipped his shirt off over his head, and you got to work, snapping shots of Doyoung’s measly workout routine before he retreated to go take a shower. You sighed, getting ready to pack up when a presence behind you made you gasp. 

“You'll never graduate if you're always sneaking out,” Jungwoo smiled in the dark. 

“What're you doing?” You asked accusingly. 

“Me? I'm just going for a walk. You want to come with me?” You sought after a cheeky remark before Jungwoo pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you with the flash on, making you see spots. “See? I can take pictures, too. And I can show this to management and tell them all about the paparazzi posing as an adorable schoolgirl outside. How about that walk?”

You bounced your knee a little, shifting your weight from one foot to the other before you nodded. 

Jungwoo offered you his arm and you curiously linked yours through, watching as he immediately softened and acted like this was just a fun night between two friends taking a walk in the nearby park, except you were still dressed in all black with your camera around your neck. 

“I did a little snooping of my own,” Jungwoo mentioned, “after I saw your badge the other night. You take really good photos. You don't need to be doing this gonzo work.”

“I'm good at it,” you shrugged, “and I need the credits in my resume.”

“Well how many more do you need?” He asked you. Jungwoo’s tone caught your attention -- he was sincere. He was honestly interested in why you were okay doing this. 

“I'll move on when I'm ready to move on--”

“You sure this isn't just easy?”

“Are you implying my work is degrading?”

“I'm saying your work is sleazy and gross,” Jungwoo huffed at you, “and I'd be a lot more attracted to you than I already am if you did work closer to your caliber.”

You paused, aghast. “Why aren't you more attracted to me as I am?”

“Because I've watched you follow us around for a week now, you didn't seem to have any problem watching me touch myself the other day, and I've never seen you without a camera.”

“If you're so disgusted by me, then why did keep going when I caught you?” You were challenging him now, squaring up against him as you passed a bench in the empty park, lit only by the moon through the clouds. You dropped your camera into your bag and set it on the bench before folding your arms spitefully. 

“I was having fun,” Jungwoo grinned, “I thought we were having fun.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re the actual sleaze.” You smiled, cocky and triumphant before Jungwoo shattered you with a laugh.

“And you didn’t catch me. I saw you skulking around backstage. I thought you’d like to come join me.” Jungwoo reached forward now, pulling your hand from your folded arms and clasping it to draw you close. Something felt a little electric as you found yourself being compliant. “I like this secret spy get-up on you, but I think I prefer the innocent look.” You watched, dumbfounded as Jungwoo’s hand cupped your face before he suddenly grabbed your chin. 

“Were you thinking of me looking innocent when you were jerking off?” You laughed nervously, eyes darting to make sure you actually were alone. 

“Of course I was,” Jungwoo nodded soberly, “it’s only been getting worse since I first noticed you stalking us. I want to pull on your pigtails and see you in that school sweater again.”

“I can go home and get it,” you sarcastically offered, looking for an opportunity to get out and keep this encounter from getting messy.

“And let you leave?” He shook his head. “Not when I have you right here and all to myself.” Jungwoo’s arms circled your waist and pulled you close. 

“What do you want?” You defiantly stammered. “Money? You want the photos I'm going to submit?”

“No,” Jungwoo smirked as he leaned his head in closer to yours, his lips barely hazing over yours, “I just want you to be good.”

“What?” You asked, barely a whisper, wanting to ask a million questions but nonetheless accepting when Jungwoo closed the gap between his lips and yours. He still held you close, nearly resembling two lovers in the park except you knew better, you knew what Jungwoo was chasing. You just had to decide to give it to him. You had to decide if you were okay feeling good when Jungwoo called you sleazy, if you enjoyed how he exposed you and made you feel vulnerable. 

“Touch me,” he ordered softly, despite his hands finally relinquishing you. He understood the choice he gave you in letting go: obey, or run and take a chance that he would rat you out. You could clearly see the proud smile spread across Jungwoo's face in the dark as you tentatively reached forward, pressing your hand to his chest and letting it drift down his lean figure, only hesitating when you neared the waistband of his jeans. “Are you afraid?” He asked, almost soothingly. 

“No,” you murmured, “just excited.”

Jungwoo’s hand closed around yours now, halting you. “Tell me why, first.”

“I'm curious about you,” you breathed, your hushed intrigue doing more than enough to let Jungwoo almost push your hand the rest of the way down to the button and zip of his jeans. 

“Good,” he praised sweetly, his chest rising and falling hard as you got your hand in his jeans and around his member. “Now admit you've been thinking about me.”

“Yes,” you exhaled, practically trembling from excitement as Jungwoo turned you in his arms, pressing his length in your hand against the curve of your ass. “Ever since I saw it I've been thinking about…”

“Say it, cutie,” Jungwoo chuckled behind you, his lips trailing over the expanse of your neck.

“I've been thinking about your cock,” you admitted, and his member throbbed under your fingers as Jungwoo groaned. His own fingertips traveled around to your belly, dipping below your waistband to your quickly dampening heat. Your pussy accepted his probing fingers so easily it almost felt like a betrayal. 

“And did you do anything about it?” He asked curiously.

“Not yet,” you shook your head. 

“Awh, poor baby,” Jungwoo laughed, “too busy following us around? You've only had time to think about this?” He snickered at your pathetic nod as he ground his hips against your massaging grip. “You know, beautiful, you look just as filthy as I thought you would be like this.”

You earnestly nodded in agreement -- you did look filthy like this, knees squeezed tightly together with Jungwoo’s hand in your dark jeans and yours wrapped around his cock behind your back. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jungwoo smiled, “do you like that? Do you like being filthy?” He smirked at your renewed nod as his fingers massaged your wet pussy. “Then you're definitely my filthy girl. How about slutty? Are you my slutty girl?”

You swallowed hard at Jungwoo's teasing and deliciously embarrassing words. Were you a slutty girl? Maybe you could be, just for tonight. You didn't even realize you were nodding again and again before Jungwoo spanked your ass with a laugh. “Then I should give my slutty girl what she's begging for.”

Jungwoo’s hands pressed down on your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend over the park bench as he swiftly yanked down your jeans and panties. Then he paused. 

“Put me inside you,” Jungwoo encouraged. You swallowed down a nervous gulp as you massaged his length in your hands a couple more times. You prodded the head of his cock against your entrance, quietly moaning and whimpering under your breath as you worked him inside you. “Oh, princess,” Jungwoo cooed, “my perfect, slutty princess. Now work your pussy for me.”

You nodded, overwhelmed by your own desire and compulsion to please Jungwoo. Fucking him was like nothing you’d ever experienced, where this was almost fun, like it was a game, and you had a chance to win. You pressed your hands to the cold park bench and worked your hips back, thrusting your pussy down around Jungwoo’s thick cock before he spanked you again. 

“You're good at that,” he teased, “maybe we should make this a regular thing, where you can show me everything you can do.”

“Well, what about tonight?” You asked, finally piping up. 

“Tonight,” Jungwoo began thoughtfully, “now that we've warmed up, you just have to take it.”

Before you could question any further, Jungwoo pulled out, his absence within you immediately felt. He turned you both, seating himself on the park bench and hauling you down perpendicularly on lap, hooking an arm under your leg to easily hoist you up and seat you on his cock. His lips searched for yours in the dark before he eagerly bounced you on his length, his hips bucking and rolling hard up against yours. 

“You like it, right?” He asked so sweetly, his big smile at your exhausted nod making your heart throb. “How should I finish?”

“After I do, for starters,” you giggled, and his laugh combined with yours proved that this was just fun and games when all was said and done, that Jungwoo had no intent of turning you in despite any reservations he may have had about your job. His fingers cradled your chin as he kissed you, before they traveled down between your breasts, taking a moment to tease your nipples through your shirt before dipping down between your legs and continuing to rub your soaked clit again. 

Picking up where he left off, and now doing all the work, it was incredibly easy to feel your orgasm coming on. Despite every tiny dissenting voice in your head telling you that this was too public, too obscene, Jungwoo held you close, almost cradling you as he fucked you through your hushed orgasm sending sparks along your nervous system. He slowed his hips under where you were seated side-saddle, kissing your face as you calmed down. 

“My gorgeous, filthy princess,” Jungwoo praised as he pressed his lips to your temple, “cumming all over my cock out here.”

“What about you now?” You asked, still panting as you caught your breath. 

“What about me?”

“Don't you want to cum?” You asked curiously. 

“Sure I do,” he nodded, “and I'm sure I will. I'm just having fun doing this with you.”

“Then maybe,” you teased as you returned the kiss to his forehead, “I can come up with an idea myself.”

“Oh?” Jungwoo smiled, watching with piqued interest as you fought your shaky legs to stand back up, sliding your panties and jeans off over your shoes and dropping them beside him. You were already this exposed, you figured. The cool night air tickled your half-bared body and only reminded you how public this was, but it only encouraged you more. Making sure you had steady footing, you climbed back onto Jungwoo’s lap, now squatting over his length with your feet planted on either side of his hips as you steadily slid him back inside you. 

“I'm thinking I'm not the only filthy one if you like this so much,” you smirked playfully, enjoying his low groans from your tight walls massaging his length as you worked a good rhythm on him. 

“I’m thinking you're right,” he chuckled, moaning and whimpering as you varied your pace, occasionally stopping altogether or even grinding your pussy down hard on his cock before you suddenly pulled off. Jungwoo whined with a desperate laugh as he bucked into the air, trying to get back into you. “No no, you don’t get to do that, I love it,” he begged. 

“Say it again,” you demanded, riding him hard for a moment and doing it all over again, pulling your soaked pussy back off of him.

“Please please please,” he whimpered as he fucked into the air, “bring it back, you're working me up too fast to be a tease like this.”

“Are you sure?” You asked sweetly before you repeated the routine once again. 

“Yes!” Jungwoo gritted through his teeth as he gripped onto the park bench. “Please, princess, make me cum.”

“Whatever you want,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead once more before climbing off his lap altogether. Jungwoo almost sputtered, not understanding until you sank to a squat in front of him and took his cock deep between your lips, your tongue massaging his length as you hungrily sucked on him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungwoo panted, “it’s not as good as your pussy but it’s so, so good, baby.”

You pulled off his cock with an audible pop, your hand picking up where you left off and jerking his length.

“Well, maybe next time you can bring a condom next time you ambush me.”

“If it’s going to be like this, I'll do whatever you want,” Jungwoo laughed exhaustedly as he tried not to thrust into your mouth when you sucked him back between your lips. His fingers stroked into your hair, keeping his wavering touches gentle until he gripped at his thigh, seemingly warning you of his impending orgasm. 

Your suspicions were confirmed a moment later as Jungwoo let his head loll back with the force of his orgasm, his cum spilling into your throat and down your chin for you to hungrily drink down. Jungwoo melted into the bench, catching his breath as you stood back up, stretching your legs and quickly pulling your panties and jeans back on. 

It was odd, thinking of something to say as Jungwoo finally came back to life and gently stowed his cock back into his pants. You liked him, and you wanted more, but neither of you were hardly in any position to be trying to make this a real thing. At least, not a committed thing. 

“So, I guess we should never do this again,” Jungwoo sighed with a disheartened grin. You thought hard about this, about him. 

“I'm not sure,” you settled on. “You can ask me at the SM company dinner next week I'll be covering.” You softly cupped Jungwoo’s humbly triumphant face as you grabbed your bag before shouldering it and leaving in the quiet night. 

[gamergirl929]

Take A Picture It Will Last Longer (I Just Might) (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Okay hear me out... A sonnett imagine where the reader is a new worker for the photography company and the r keeps getting distracted while watching sonnett play but sonnett also get distracted by the r and after a while of CONSTANT flirting one of them makes a move plz and thank u ur amazing

“SONNETT!” Kelley yells, just as a ball smacks into the side of the blonde’s head, her hazel orbs wide as she glances around.  

“Wha...?” She glances around, turning to Kelley who’d just ran up to her.  

“Where’s your head at?” She asks and Emily clears her throat, her eyes darting to where you’re kneeling down on the ground, holding a camera.  

Kelley follows her gaze with a toothy grin.  

“AHHH! I see.” She winks and Sonnett rolls her eyes, giving her a shove.  

Off field, you’re watching the pair with a smile, your cheeks flushed.  

Emily Sonnett had, had her eyes on you for the entire practice, hazel orbs darting your way each and every opportunity they could.  

Honestly, you couldn’t keep your gaze off of her either, it was your first day taking pictures of the USWNT and it was going to be a regular gig, you traveling alongside them to take photos, the photos you yourself had always seen scattered online.  

You glance down at your camera’s screen, giggling when you realize you’d caught the moment the black and white ball had hit the side of Emily’s head on camera.  

Your laughter draws the attention of those nearby, as well as a few players on the field and you cover your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter.  

On field, Emily is grinning, cheeks red.  

“Awwwwwww.” Kelley pokes her in the cheek and she swats her hand away with a pout.  

“What’s going on here?” Alex walks up with a grin, and Kelley turns to her.  

“Sonnett’s got a crush on the new camera girl.” She bites her tongue between her teeth and Emily rolls her eyes.  

“I do not.” She grumbles as she stomps away, but as she glances out of the corner of her eye and sees you looking her way, she can’t help but blush.  

                                                           ***

It’s time for your first USWNT game, and you couldn’t be more excited.

The fans cheering as the anthems sound on field, you snapping pictures of the team, some singing along, while others, Megan Rapinoe in particular stands for what she believes in.  

You were absolutely giddy when the teams took the field and the game had begun, taking shot after shot of each and every player, catching a few that you knew would catch the public’s eye for sure.  

You turn towards the bench, still staring through your lens when you see a familiar pair of hazel orbs on you.  

Your eyes widen as you glance over the top of your camera, Emily Sonnett still staring your way, eyes wide when she realizes she’s been caught.  

You surprise her by giving her a thumbs up and the woman grins, nudging her teammates beside her, Mal Pugh and Lindsey Horan, the three posing for a photo.  

You take a few snapshots before turning back to the field, sending Emily a wink before you go back to taking pictures, unaware that the blonde’s eyes are still on you, her friends teasing her about her obvious crush on the new photographer.  

                                                           ***

You circle the team in their huddle, the game well over as Vlatko talks with his team.  

You snap a number of memorable shots, and hope they’ll be enough to impress as you move down field, completely unaware that you’re about to slam right in to the woman who’d been plaguing your mind the entire day.  

“Shit.” You mumble under your breath as you run straight into the woman who’d stopped in front of you.  

“I’m so sorr-

You go silent, smiling when you realize the woman standing in front of you is the one and only Emily Sonnett.  

“Uhhh, hi.” Emily shuffles nervously from foot to foot and you grin.  

“Hi.” You bite your bottom lip, your cheeks flushed.  

The two of you stand still, eyeing one another intently before you both nod.  

“Well bye.” You both at the same time, turning and rushing off in opposite directions, Sonnett’s team watching on with wide eyes and confused expressions.  

Lindsey snorts.  

“Ummm, what the hell was that?”  

Ashlyn walks up, her hand in Ali’s.  

“Gay panic?” The blonde asks and Ali nods.  

“Gay panic.”  

“Where’s the gay panic?” Megan asks when she walks up at the couple nods to where Sonnett is running, completely in the opposite direction of the locker room.  

Megan nods.  

“Looks like gay panic to me.”  

Kelley snorts.  

“Better get her before she wanders off and we have to put out an Amber Alert.” Kelley shakes her head cupping her hands around her mouth.

“SONNETT! OUR LOCKER ROOM IS THE OTHER WAY!”

The blonde stops before glancing around, cheeks blood red.  

“I KNEW THAT!”  

                                                           ***

Needless to say, your encounter with Emily a week ago didn’t go exactly as you had planned your first meeting with her would go, so sadly, there was no turning back but you planned on making your second encounter with her a bit better than the first.  

“Uhh, hi.” You whisper, Emily glancing around, still spraying her water into her mouth. When she realizes it’s you she completely forgets about the water, spraying it all over the front of her tank top.  

“Jesus Christ Sonnett.” Kelley whispers to herself, but when you start to laugh, she smiles.  

Emily shakes her head running a palm down her wet shirt.  

“It’s not funny.” She pouts and you shrug.  

“Pretty funny from where I’m standing.”  

Emily crosses her arms across her chest with a pout and you grin.  

“I’m Y/N, sorry I didn’t really uhhh, introduce myself the other day.” You shrug, fidgeting nervously.  

You smile, holding your hand out and Emily grins, dropping her water on the ground in favor of taking your hand in hers.  

“Emily, and yeah I didn’t really introduce myself yesterday either, I was uhhh... Late for a meeting.” She shrugs, taking a step towards you.  

Unfortunately for her, she steps on the water she dropped moments before spraying the bottle’s contents all over the place.  

“Oh my god.” Ashlyn snorts, face palming on field along with the rest of her teammates gathered there.  

“What are we going to do with her?” Mal whispers, but before anyone can answer you start to laugh, a laugh that Emily can’t help but return.  

Tobin grins, crossing her arms across her chest.  

“Nothing, seems like she likes Sonnett just how she is.”  

                                                           ***

It’s in the next game against England when you find you can’t keep your eyes off the defender, who is tearing up the field, letting fans of the USWNT see the side known as Saucy Sonnett.  

You just so happen to get a few pictures of Emily Saucy Sonnett in all her glory, a particular picture of Sonnett sitting on the turf and glaring at a ref, bottom lip protruding has you laughing so hard tears are streaming down your cheeks.  

By the time halftime rolls around you realize that a wide array of your photos are only of Emily Sonnett and your eyes widen, cheeks blood red.  

You clear your throat quick to hide your camera, from whomever may be walking past.  

“Whatcha hiding there?” You hear a voice behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin, flipping around to find the one and only Saucy Sonnett standing in front of you.  

“Uhhhh, nothing at all.” You shrug innocently, and Emily’s eyes narrow.  

“I don’t know you’re displaying suspicious behavior.”  

You let out a hum, shrugging.  

“Guess you’ll just have to see when the pictures come out.” You wink and Sonnett’s eyes widen.  

A sudden arm slips around Sonnett’s neck and she’s pulled away in a headlock by Tobin Heath who sends you a grin as she drags the blonde into the tunnel, the woman attempting to wiggle out of her hold the entire way, but to no avail.  

You glance down at your camera with a smirk, biting your bottom lip, contemplating if you should post the picture or not.  

                                                           ***

“OH MY GOD.” Kelley wheezes a few days later as she shoves her phone under Emily’s nose, showing her the photo, you’d taken of her glaring at the ref grumpily.  

Emily’s cheeks flush bright red, her eyes wide.  

“Ohhhh, and look your girlfriend posted it.” Lindsey teases and Emily grumbles.  

“She isn’t my girlfriend.”  

It’s just then you come into view, kneeling down to snap some pictures of the players on the field for practice.

Sonnett jumps to her feet and marches over to you, unbeknownst to you considering your face is hidden behind your camera, but when you do spot her, you grin.  

“Hey.” You grin and Emily huffs, you snicker.  

“I guess you saw my picture.” You wink and the defender pouts.  

“Oh, come on.” You nudge her playfully. “It was cute.”  

Your eyes widen, Sonnett’s following close behind as the two of you glance away from one another, your cheeks flushed pink.  

“What I mean to say is...” You glance away biting your lip, a foreign courage stirring in you before you turn back to the blonde with a smirk.  

“No that’s what I meant to say.” You wink and Emily’s eyes double in size, cheeks flushing a darker shade of red.  

“Sonnett!” Someone calls out and the blonde blinks rapidly, clearing her throat before she glances over her shoulder.  

“Ye-Yeah, that.” She points before turning around and rushing off, back towards her teammates.  

You watch her go with a giggle, grinning when the woman glances over her shoulder to look at you one last time, stumbling over her own feet as she does so.

You shake your head watching as she moves to talk to one of her coaches, her hazel orbs darting your way every few seconds.  

You glance down at your camera, smiling softly as you focus your lens on the blonde, taking a picture of the two of them, though to be honest, you may or may not zoom in to only get Emily into the picture.  

The sunlight hits her just right, her hazel orbs shining almost as bright as her smile when you snap the photo and you glance down at it.  

You swallow hard, cheeks flushing dark red.

This was one photo you’d be sure to save and though you weren’t about to admit it just yet, it wasn’t just because the photo was beautiful, but the woman in the photograph as well.  

                                                           ***

You were mortified, of course they would want the picture of Emily Sonnett you took released, the photo of the blonde’s shining hazel orbs and dazzling smile on full display.  

A minute part of you was hoping that Emily hadn’t seen the photo, but when you saw her Instagram you knew she saw it, considering she was gushing about it and about the photographer who took it, AKA, you. She even went as far as to make it her Instagram's profile picture, displaying your photo to the entire world, a photo you weren’t sure you were ever going to share in the first place.  

“Well if it isn’t my favorite photographer.” You jump at the sound of a familiar voice, putting on a smile when you turn to the hazel eyed blonde with the dazzling smile.  

“Your favorite? That’s a pretty high honor.” You wink and Emily laughs.  

“Well, with you in the running, no one else could stand a chance.” She shrugs and you blush.  

Emily smirks, taking a step closer and your eyes widen.  

“You always take close ups of all the players like that?” She asks and you bite your bottom lip, that foreign courage again swirling in your chest.  

“Only the cute ones.”  

Emily blinks rapidly in surprise, the tips of her ears shifting from pink to red in a matter of seconds. She opens her mouth, but is cut off when someone’s hand settles on her shoulder, the owner of said hand revealing themselves to be Kelley O’Hara moments later.  

“So, this is the person behind that Instagram photo you can’t stop talking about.” Kelley smirks and Emily turns to her eyes wide in horror.  

“What do you mean?” She asks, scoffing dramatically and your brows raise.  

“She means... ‘Oh my god, look at the picture she took of me, isn’t she so talented.’” Lindsey mimics the blonde who rolls her hazel orbs.  

“’Do you think she takes pictures like that of everyone, do you think it means something?’” Mal squeaks and Emily throws her head back with a lengthy growl. 

Suddenly, Alex appears somehow reining in the trio and dragging them towards the bench, towards her other teammates.  

“Carry on.” Alex grins, sending Emily a wink that has her cheeks flushing. She turns back to you, rubbing the back of her neck nervously as she digs her heel into the turf.  

“So I was-

Sonnett is suddenly cut off by the sound of a whistle and she throws her head back with a growl, throwing her hands up in the air.  

“CAN I JUST TALK TO THE CUTE GIRL IN PEACE!?” She shouts, stomping towards the bench and her teammates who are watching her with wide eyes, the woman completely leaving you behind in utter shock, cheeks blood red.

“Subtle Sonnett. Subtle.” Kelley shakes her head, patting the woman on the back when she reaches her.  

“Did I just say that out loud?” She asks the USWNT veteran who slowly nods.  

“Yep.”  

                                                           ***

The next time Sonnett approaches you, she’s much stiffer than before, albeit nervous.  

“He-Hey.” She sends you an awkward wave and you grin, moving to your feet from where you were knelt on the sidelines.  

You smile, your own cheeks flushed.  

“Hey stranger.” You wink and Sonnett’s cheeks flush.  

Luckily for the two of you, it was nearly time for the second half to start, leaving just a sliver of time for the two of you to talk.  

“Ho-How’s my favorite photographer?” She stammers and your brows arch.  

“Great now that her favorite defender is here.” You wink and Sonnett blushes bright red. Her tongue slips between the tight line her lips have formed and you bite your bottom lip.  

“Something on your mind?” You ask and Sonnett shrugs.  

“Maybe something...” She mumbles and your brows furrow as you take a step towards her.  

“What’s on your mind?” You ask worriedly and Sonnett takes a deep breath.  

“I was wondering if... Maybe...” Emily shuffles nervously from foot to foot and you cock your head to the side, smiling at the endearing sight.  

You take another step towards her, placing your hand gently on her forearm.  

“You can tell me.” You whisper realizing the blonde’s eyes are as wide as saucers as she stares down at your hand, your thumb running back and forth across the flesh of her arm.  

Goosebumps sprout beneath the pad of your thumb and you smile softly, Y/E/C orbs locking with Emily’s hazel ones.  

Emily opens her mouth, immediately snapping it shut before doing the action again, trying to find the words she’s searching for but unfortunately, she comes up empty.  

Also, unfortunately, she’s waved over by her team, giving you a singular nod before she rushes away, the phantom feel of your palm on her forearm.  

                                                           ***

The game against Sweden is brutal, as per usual some of the tackles to Sonnett sends a shiver down your spine and twisting your stomach in worry.  

Needless to say, you’re relieved when the game ends and everyone, is mostly intact. What you don’t expect however is Emily Sonnett literally bypassing everyone and running towards you. She throws her arms around you, pulling you into a surprise, sweaty hug that you’re more than happy to reciprocate.  

“DOYOUWANTTOGOONADATEWITHME!?” Emily shouts, her words running together like word salad.  

Your brow furrows when you pull back, eyes wide.  

“Come again?” You laugh and Sonnett takes a deep breath, swallowing hard. She’s about to clam up again, but when you boldly tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she finds the words she’s been searching for, for so long.  

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” She asks, nervously fidgeting and you grin, surprising her and yourself by gently taking her hand.  

“I’d love to.” You whisper and the smile that takes up half of Emily’s face is dazzling, her eyes shining as she bites her bottom lip.  

“Uhh... Cool...” She nods, and your brow arches.  

“I’ll uhhh, give you my deets later.” She gives you a thumbs up, backing away slowly.  

You watch her go, the woman throwing a fist in the air before she is even a foot away. She glances over her shoulder, cheeks dark red as she gives you a charming smile.  

You shake your head, your own face split in half by a massive smile.  

You had a date with THE Emily Sonnett, and you couldn’t believe it.

[suckerforsmylex]

Ripe Peach - Pt. 7

Peaches pulled away from The Joker’s kiss reluctantly and lay back, with the blanket pulled up around her body.  She looked around the room and noticed all of the masked party goers, still knocked out from the gas J had put them to sleep with earlier, during their public display of affection.  They mingled in with the bodies of the dead Olympians and their lifeless leader Maxie Zeus.  

“Wow, what a mess.  Clean up in aisle 7!” Harley yawned as she spoke, and Peaches couldn’t help but feel a small sense of guilt about how everything went down. Mister J pulled put his fingers in his mouth and whistled and the high-pitched sound echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the cool marble.  No one came forward.  Harley unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snicker and J turned sharply, glaring at her.  Digging into his pocket, he quickly pulled out his phone and opened up an app that pulled up every camera, in every room of the club.  Every room contained sleeping party goers.  

He came upon members of his security team, but they were all knocked out too, slumped over and sleeping like babies. “DAMN IT!” The Joker ended his phone call abruptly and Harley started cracking up.  “Forgot to give them the little white pills?  Sweet dreams to your security detail!”  Harley could barely keep her composure and she laughed, shaking her head as her body convulsed with glee.

“What the hell are you laughing at? If you think I’m cleaning up this mess myself the peroxide has seeped its way into what’s left of what you call a brain!” J pulled his gun out and let out five, rapid fire shots into the ceiling.  Harley grabbed Peaches and they both huddled together, protecting each other from being hit with shrapnel and stray bullets.  J threw his phone across the room like a disobedient child, breaking a large sculpture in its path.  

“Why don’t you call Frawwwst, Mistah J?  Don’t cha’ make him earn his keep around here anymore?”   Harley tilted her head and put her arm around Peaches, pulling her close and squeezing.  The Joker grumbled, after realizing that Harley’s suggestion was a viable and he reluctantly, but swiftly, leapt up to retrieve his phone and call Frost.  Surprisingly, it survived the throw with only minor nicks. “Frost, I need you to come down to our little party at the club.  Bring backup, there’s a mess to clean up.”

Click  

The Joker turned on his heels, directing all of his attention to Peaches.  With a nod, followed by a snap of the fingers, he spoke.  “Come to Daddy.  It’s time to go home.”  He extended his arms, waiting for her to run into them. Peaches, unsure of herself, hesitated, talking softly and looking down at the ground.  “I don’t have anything to wear.” He threw his head back and laughed loudly.  “Nothing stopped you from running into the middle of a knife fight, in all your naked glory.”  J walked towards Peaches and started to remove his jacket, but Harley stood up and stopped him in his tracks. “No, I got this.”  Harley sounded blue as she spoke but piped herself back up into a broad smile.  “We had a good run, Mistah J.” She reached over and touched him on his shoulder and then turned to Peaches.  “I’m Deadshot’s girl now and I can’t wear these anymore.  You take em’ sweetie.”  

Before Peaches could respond, Harley was stripping off her ‘Daddy’s Little Monster’ shirt and ‘Property of Mister J’ jacket.  She stood there in her bra, shorts and boots holding the clothes out toward her.  “I honestly don’t even know why I was still wearing them.  I’m a sentimental sap at heart, I guess,” Harley remarked with a flip of her hand.  Peaches reached out unenthusiastically and grabbed the items.  Harley was about three times smaller than her and there was no way that her clothes would fit.  It was a sweet gesture but she wrinkled her nose and gulped as she accepted them.

She held the shirt and jacket out and her suspicions were confirmed.  They would be uncomfortably snug.  Thinking quickly, Peaches took the shirt up by the sleeves and tied them around her neck, fashioning a halter top with it. The fabric reading ‘Daddy’s Little Monster’ added a thick layer over her breasts.  She found that her sheer, black panties were still intact and slipped them on and then took Harley’s newly gifted jacket and wrapped it around her waist, making the ‘Property of Joker’ message bubble over her butt.  Finally, she slipped her black stilettos on, thread her fingers into her hair and shook it out wildly. She felt insecure but instead of asking do I look ok, as she was dying to inquire, she sauntered over to J, bit her lip and stuck her hand out, palm upward.  “I’ll take that Jacket now, Daddy.”   

Harley beamed from ear to ear as Mister J stood motionless for a moment, his mouth turning up into a wicked grin.  He began to pace around her in a circle, admiring her entire body, taking it in completely.  J wrapped his arms around Peaches from behind and kissed her neck, following the kiss with a deep bite that made her squeal and whispered into her ear.  “I like the way you look when you wear my name.” His breath was warm and inviting at the shell of her ear, tickling as he let his hands wander, despite Harley standing there as a witness to his uninhibited lust.  

“I like it more when you don’t wear anything.  Let’s make that happen again.”  His left hand caressed under the tee shirt, making direct contact with her stiff nipples.  His right hand moved up slowly, feeling cool against the warm, sensitive skin of Peaches’ neck.  He gripped hard while continuing to grope her and Peaches moaned with her eyes squeezed shut and in complete compliance.  

Harley clapped her hands rapidly and made a squeaking sound and Peaches’ eyes fluttered open.  “This is soooo hot, you guuuuuyyyyss!  I’m having flashbacks of the good ol’ days.”  She walked up close to Peaches, and leaned in, inhaling in the space between her shoulder and neck.  “Mmmm! You smell so good!”  She reached out to caress Peaches, but The Joker suddenly pinned both of Peaches’ hands behind her back and pulled her backward and towards him, making her stumble in her heels.  “MINE.  She belongs to me, Harl.  Get your own toys.” J buried his face in Peaches’ hair, inhaling and exhaling dramatically.

“Awww, come on, Puddin’! No fair!  Didn’t anybody ever tell you that sharing is caring?  I promise I’ll put her back the same way I got her.”  Mister J didn’t respond.  He had Peaches’ hair pulled into a makeshift ponytail and was purring loudly while lacing her with bites, some that were beginning to break the skin and draw blood.  Harley was growing impatient, stomping her foot and pouting.  “Come on, you can watch!”  Harley advanced again on her hands and knees, trying to entice The Joker into accepting her proposition.  She was dangerously close to grabbing for Peaches’ ankle when he pulled her backwards again with a grunt and growling in anger.  He was still pinning Peaches’ wrists in place with his left hand, as he pulled out his gun and aimed it at Harley.

Harley stopped squirming and her face pulled back in complete shock. “Hey, Mistah J, I’m sorry, I just wanted a little taste is all.  She’s all yours.”  He cocked the gun with his finger on the trigger and Peaches was pressed against him so tightly that she could feel his erection against her ass.  In fact, she could feel his arousal intensifying, in real time, as he held Harley at gunpoint.  His phone rang loudly, interrupting the thick, palpable tension that had filled the room and he kept the gun aimed at Harley as she continued to plead on her knees.  “Puddin’, please!  Gentle reminder that I saved you and Princess Peach from being brutally murdered by Maxie Zeus and his New Olympians.”  The Joker rolled his eyes in disgust. “Don’t call me Puddin’!” Harley put her hands up and apologized. “Sorry J, force of habit.” The phone rang again, cutting through the second awkward silence of the night, as he pushed up against Peaches with a discrete thrust.  Peaches could feel herself slick with arousal as she shifted on her heels. It was a secret and unavoidable pleasure as her folds slid against themselves and she sighed softly as The Joker answered the call. 

     “What?!” Mister J yelled into the phone so hard that his entire body shook and tensed.  He didn’t appreciate the additional intrusion.  It was Frost with the cleanup crew and J barked out directions before turning his attention back to Harley and the gun he had pointed in her direction.  Chest heaving and panting, he turned to Peaches suddenly before posing a question, while nibbling at her ear.  “Ok, sweetheart.  Tell Daddy.  Should I spare Harley? “Or, should I blow her brains out the back of her skull?”  He said the last option as he let his hand roam over her, pulling up her jacket to access the waistband of her panties.  The band stretched as he shoved his hand inside.  He let his hand lay against her, motionless and then pressed each finger against her, playing her tummy like a piano.  It was clear which option he preferred.

“Let’s spare her,” Peaches said in an innocent voice and he pushed himself against her, bending his knees, as he laughed loudly.  “You’re always so good.  Don’t you ever want to just cut loose?” He locked eyes with Harley and then put the gun back into its holster reluctantly.  “Always a pleasure, Harl. Give Deadshot my best.” J rolled his eyes and waved and much to Peaches’ surprise, Harley was giddy at his farewell.  “Thanks J, don’t be a stranger, we should set up a double date.  We can all go after Batsy together!”          

 “Who’s Batsy?  Is she talking about Batman,” Peaches asked, as he finally placed his blazer around her shoulders.  J’s face turned up into a snarl.  “Don’t bring up The Bat.  I’m still cooking up some ways to kill him, but right now, I’m more interested in murdering you in bed.”  He led Peaches by the back of the neck into an unmarked, black, four door and threw her into the back seat.  “Lay down.”  She obeyed his request and heard the soft thud of the door slamming behind him, as he jumped into the front seat.  He turned the car on and started driving in his usual erratic manner.  “Are you Daddy’s good girl or Daddy’s bad girl?”  Peaches thought about the question and moaned. “I’m whatever you say I should be, Daddy.”  The Joker purred and shifted gears sharply.  “That’s a perfect answer. Daddy wants to you be a bad girl right now.  Take off your clothes, but leave your panties and heels on.”

 Peaches tore off the blazer, jacket and shirt and lay with her bare skin against the leather of the rear seats.  He continued weaving in traffic and looked up to glimpse at her in the rear-view mirror.   “Spread your legs and touch yourself.  Don’t you dare cum.  Say, ‘Yes, Daddy.’”  Peached spread her legs, her left on the seat and her right sliding onto the floor and began exploring herself gingerly, with her fingertips.  “Yes, Daddy J.”

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 17

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry

Word Count (Part 17): 3,022

Word Count (Total): 54,381

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic)

***

29th April, 1998

“Hey, Harry?” I ask, my question quiet in the loud kitchen. Harry is bustling around, preparing a large brunch for the two of us plus Mother. It turns out that he rather likes cooking when it’s for multiple people, and living up to my Mum’s standards makes him grin sappily.

“Mhmm?” Harry replies from where he’s standing over the frying pan. He insists on cooking like a Muggle, carefully waiting and watching, before flipping over one of the pancakes.

“I’m worried…” I murmur, suddenly aware of how absurd the statement is. It’s a lovely, crisp Thursday morning, my boyfriend is preparing a meal for us to share, and I woke up late enough to actually be well-rested for once. Yet here I am, concerned about the upcoming war that I have no control over. Except I very well might...

“Worried about what?” Harry asks, turning away from the kitchen and towards me.

“The war,” I answer shortly, making sure my voice is clear and stable. It doesn’t work very well.

Harry crosses the room, a look in his eyes that I can’t quite decipher. He holds his arms out as he approaches, and wraps me into a tight embrace. I focus my attention on his hands rubbing into the small of my back, on his face next to mine, and on the smell of him, wafting up from his collarbone. Even so, tears burn at the sides of my eyes, threatening to spill over.

“So am I…” Comes the whispered confession.

“You are?” I pull away to look at his face, and find wet tracks down his cheeks. That’s what tips mine over too.

“Oh, don’t cry Dray,” he tries to comfort. His hand resumes it’s circular motion and he calms me down, but I feel like a jerk. He’s the one who’s going to have to do the unimaginable soon. He’s the one who has the right to be crying.

“I’m- s-sorry,” I hiccup.

“Don’t apologise! You haven’t done anything wrong Dray.” Harry pulls out of the embrace and holds me at arms length, his eyes shining and searching. “The war is going to come no matter what we do.”

I nod. “I know,” I manage to say without being interrupted by my own body. “But I-” hiccup, “can't bear the thought of- of losing you…”

Harry smiles shallowly, tears betraying him. “You won’t, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Merlin I sound miserable, like a girl in a romance novel whose boyfriend is going off to war. Except that’s exactly what’s happening… albeit I’m going too…

Harry finds the parallel too and chuckles under his breath. I shove him lightly. “I know Dray,” he sighs. “I feel like my world is going to end in three days. Hell, it probably is!”

“Nonsense!” I immediately argue, instincts leaping into action to prove him wrong. Years of arguing don’t vanish overnight. “You’ve put so much work into everything, and all of the plans are finished. I’ve seen the way people act for you, Harry. You’ll have thousands of people fighting.”

Harry grins at me. “Well, if you’re so confident in me, why are you worried?”

I roll my eyes, a smile on my face. “Shove off, Potter.”

“Potter, am I? Whatever happened to Harry?”

“You made a point, Potter.” Harry’s grin only widens, enjoying the banter when there’s no venom behind it.

Harry pulls me back into a hug, but a loud bubbling sound from the kitchen, followed by a sharp crack, has him instantly running back to the stove. He groans loudly, a wild and panicked sound, and starts rapidly moving things around and waving his wand.

“I thought you were cooking Muggle style?” I mock.

“I was,” he quips. “But it’s burnt now and I’d rather like to salvage it, so magic it is.” Despite being turned away, I can practically hear the contradicting smile in his words.

For the next couple of minutes, there’s silence (except for the sounds of cooking, of course). Pleasant smells begin filling the room, and I happily watch Harry’s back as he moves. He’s so good at cooking, yet he refuses to mention why or how. Whenever I ask there’s some sort of panic behind his eyes, and his face inevitably closes off. I stopped asking after only two attempts. It clearly doesn’t hold any enjoyable memories, even though he seems very happy when he’s doing it.

“You know Dray,” Harry says once he’s rescued the pancakes, “you look gorgeous today.”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the blush creeping up my neck. I am not in a romance novel! “Indeed I am, Potter,” I reply. “But why is that relevant?”

“What, Potter yet again? And there isn’t anything irrelevant about it,” he says. “Malfoy,” he throws in.

“Hmph,” I huff. “For what it’s worth, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“That’s it?! That’s the best compliment you could think of?!”

“How’s this?” I ask. “I would let you bend me over right here right now if you wanted to.”

Harry’s breath catches. “Draco!” He shouts. “You can’t just say that!”

I smirk at him as he turns to face me, and he sticks his tongue out. We haven’t done that yet, but seeing his expression overtaken with want makes me seriously consider it. But no. My mother is in this house, and I do not want her to witness that.

“I’ve been thinking,” I say into the comfortable silence. “I want to help. To train and actually help.”

“Changing subject are we?” Harry laughs. “Help how?”

“I don’t know, but I want to try something! If I don’t prepare I will be useless in the battle.”

“Ahh,” Harry hums. “Why don't I firecall Hermione, and she can help you with that?”

A rush of disappointment runs through me. “Why won’t you?”

“I’ll be there!” Harry practically trips over himself to say. “Of course I will! But I’m afraid I don’t really know much about magic like yours, and Hermione does.”

“How could she possibly know that much?” I ask.

“Please,” Harry scoffs. “All she’s done these last three days—I guarantee it—is read every book ever created that could maybe have the slightest chance of helping you.”

“Why would she do that?” I furrow my brows. “It’s not like I know her that well. And I was an absolute shit to her just last year!”

Harry turns fully to face me again. “You may have been an arsehole in the past Draco, but she’s since seen how you truly are, and probably considers you a friend!” He exclaims. “Besides, she got you back when she punched you in Third Year.”

I groan at the memory of bone cracking under her fist. “That hurt,” I grumble.

Harry chuckles and turns back to the food. “I’ll call her, and she and Ron can probably come up with something to help.”

“Thank you Harry.”

***

After a delicious brunch—that only vaguely tasted like it had been dropped in a fire and left to burn—Harry left Mother and I to go call Hermione.

“He is an excellent cook, dear,” Mother says out of nowhere. “You chose a good boyfriend.”

“Mother!” I say, aghast. “I didn’t choose him out of a lineup or something! It just happened.” The end becomes less defensive and more sensitive, and I internally scold myself for showing any sign of weakness to her. In the past, that very same weakness has been criticised, punished.

“Well, he’s still a good cook,” she continues. “Although, it is strange he doesn’t have a house elf?” It’s posed as a question, and I feel my blood boil.

“For a start, Mother,” I begin. “He actually does have a house elf, Kreacher, he’s just moved him elsewhere so he can prepare for the war without worrying about another body.” The light slowly fades from her eyes. “Second, why does having a house elf determine someone’s worth?”

Mother has the sense to look sheepish. “I’m sorry for that, Draco. It’s a habit left over from-” She cuts herself off.

I nod solemnly, my anger fading. “Yeah. I know.” I’m not going to make her say it out loud. As much as she is flawed, I love her, and she doesn’t need to dredge up her recent past. Less than a year ago, life was normal. We were living in the Manor, listening to Lucius’ rants; and yes, maybe I did have to follow orders on the threat of my family’s painful death, but before that it was fine.

The silence becomes awkward and strained. As much as we were on good terms two days ago, the reality has since sunken in. There is a war set for three days from now. In three days time, the world as we know it will either stay relatively the same, or it will be flipped upside down into a time of terror. Whichever side wins, people will die. By the end of it, people I know—guaranteed, with my mess of a family—will be dead, and there is no slowing it down. I sigh and rise from my chair in the dining room.

“I’m going to go shower,” I announce to the air. Mother doesn’t respond, lost in thought as she is, and I cross the room into the hallway. I’m halfway up the first flight of stairs when Harry comes rushing down them. He halts upon seeing me, his face lighting up for a second before it’s schooled into a calm expression. When he managed to make such a good mask, I don’t know.

“Draco!” He says quickly. “I’m glad I’ve got you. Hermione and Ron are going to be here in the next five-ish minutes and you should probably change into something you can exercise in.”

“Well that was a rush of words,” I tease.

“Sorry.” Harry’s hand rubs the back of his neck. “Where were you going?”

“Shower, but I guess I won’t bother now.”

“Probably a good idea. I’d save the shower for after.” He let’s a smirk cross his face. “I could always join you…?”

“Harry James Potter, get your mind out of the dump.” I shake my head. “We have a war to win, and that is much higher on my list of priorities than getting laid!”

“Quiet down Dray, you wouldn’t want your mother to hear those words coming out of your mouth.”

My face darkens, even though she’d probably approve of what I said. I shake my head yet again, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m going to go get dressed.”

Harry grins, pulls me in to peck me on the cheek, and then goes back to running down the stairs.

***

“How have you used them so far?” Ron is standing in front of me, his red hair a mop over his forehead. He’s dressed head to toe in black workout clothes, just like I am, and is brandishing his wand at me. The sunlight is glaring harshly and I lift a hand to shield my eyes.

“I’ve uh- I’ve dimmed the lights a couple of times,” I start, shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. The grass crunches underfoot. “I also faded some glare when I went outside yesterday.” It sounds pathetic and weak, there’s no use for that in an already dark room.

“That’s a good start,” Hermione says, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Trust her to notice the tiniest hint of self-deprecation. “I’ve come up with some drills to focus your magic, and Ron has made a course for you to run once you get more confident with it.”

Ron nods his head. “It’s under a concealment charm right now so you can’t worry about it. It looks quite intimidating, but it shouldn’t actually be too challenging.”

Hermione walks away from Ron and beckons for me to follow her. Her blue and grey clothes are a stark contrast from Ron’s and mine, and her hair is tied neatly behind her head. Well, as neatly as it can be, considering it looks like it’s trying to spring out of the hairband, and with the strength of her curls it’s quite possible. She whirls back to face me and points to the sky.

“Try to remove the glare, not entirely, just lessen it a little.”

I tip my head to the side. “I already know I can do that.”

“I know, but I want to see it,” she insists. “Come on.”

Sighing, I screw my hands into fists beside me and close my eyes tightly. Light dances behind my eyelids, yellow and red spots all I can see. But as I concentrate and the glare dims, the spots fade and shrink, becoming blue and purple instead. When I open my eyes again, I’m not confronted with a blinding light like I would normally expect.

“Wow…” Hermione mutters. I can’t help but notice her usual notepad and pen, covered in new notes. “Try brightening it again!”

Ignoring the fact that while I’m training I’m also becoming her new test subject, I once again tighten my fists. This time, instead of closing my eyes I focus on widening them as much as possible. I’ve found over the last couple of days that in order to alter the lighting, my eyes need to mirror the action. Light off, eyes closed; light on, eyes open. I stare intently up at the sun—my eyes somehow unaffected—and watch as the glare slowly returns. Eventually I rip my eyes away and unclench my hands. I blink a couple of times to clear my newly-spotting vision and turn to Hermione again.

Her jaw is now dropped open, her hands fallen—momentarily forgotten—by her sides. I watch as her brain whirls behind her eyes, the cogs turning as she thinks through what I’m doing. Just as quickly as she fell silent, she leaps into action once more. Her hand starts moving so swiftly across the paper that she can’t possibly be thinking about what she’s writing before it’s written.

“That’s amazing!” She exclaims. She keeps writing, making sure to jot down everything she thinks is necessary. I think it’s a bit overkill, but if she wants to do it, who am I to stop her?

“Could you try fading the sun? Like, not just the glare but the light in general?”

“I’ve never tried that before…” I say. “I don’t see why not.”

Unsure of how to do that, I start as I usually would. My hands tighten into fists and I squeeze my eyes closed. I focus in on the lines and dots that are now all I can see, and try to—for lack of a better word—extinguish them. I hear a faint pop and my eyes jolt open. Everything is exactly the same as it was before, with no sign of the cause of the noise. I hum in annoyance. Instead of getting worked up and annoyed at my failure like I would have a year ago, I grit my teeth and force myself to give it another go. My hands move to rest on my hips, my head tipping backwards to look into the sun. I close my eyes again and this time concentrate on removing the light I know is above me. It wavers and flickers behind my eyelids, but it never goes out or dims for more than half a second. I open my eyes and return to my normal stance again, rolling my neck to relieve the strain.

“Hmmm,” Hermione says. “I’ll have to think about that for a while.” She writes down a couple more notes, her eyes squinting in the glare from the sun. “Move over to Ron, give his thing a try.” She waves her hand dismissively over to her boyfriend’s area of the backyard without pausing in her notes.

“You’ve finally passed Hermione’s testing, hmm?” Ron calls out when he sees me approaching.

I grin at him. “It seems so,” I reply with raised eyebrows. “So… What am I doing?”

“You are going to run this course, and then we are all going to play a muggle game called Murder in the Dark.” His face lights up in excitement. Why, I’m not sure.

“Murder in the Dark?” I ask. I’ve never heard of it, although since it’s muggle that’s not that surprising.

“Yes, but only after completing the course. Ready?” Ron doesn’t leave time for me to answer, pivoting around and waving his wand in front of him. The air ripples and lifts up, reality distorting as a mass of random objects and transfigured walls come into view. “It’s messy I know, but it should work perfectly.” His face flushes with what must be pride at his creation.

“What do I do?” I ask. It looks like a maze mixed with an obstacle course. That is, if both were meant to be pitch black.

“You work your way through to the other side, avoid the obstacles, and alter the lighting the whole way through to reveal different path options and objects to dodge. New routes will appear depending on the light, as will obstacles. Take your time, but if you’re not out within the hour I’m concealing it again and you’ll come flying to wherever I am.”

I swallow hard. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Yep,” Ron says cheerfully. “Harry told me you work well under time constraints and worry.”

“Did he now…?” I murmur to myself, fixing a glare to the window which shows him sitting and watching from a sofa. “I don’t know where he got that idea, but he will definitely pay for it later.”

“Probably because you managed to send him a letter from the Manor, through all of the wards and right under Voldemort’s nose. Not to mention the series of torturous changes and injuries you’ve survived without time to heal properly, all while helping Harry prepare for a war,” Ron says, sounding gleeful as if it should all be obvious. “So yes, I quite think he’s right. Anyway, get to it!”

Just as I’m about to question him as to how he knows all of that, I’m pushed a few steps ahead and into the entrance of the maze.

***

A/N: Sorry this is a week late, it just got to Monday and I figured I’d rather post it later 🤷‍♀️ Hope you enjoyed! Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

@draconianhorntail @p3trovass @cowboy-simp @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @lafilleetlechatnoir @absolutetrashcan @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @pizzabitch @champagnemonarch

[vicunaburger]

Admittedly, I’m Hard to See

Fandom: Beetlejuice the Musical Chapters: 9/? Pairing: Beetlejuice x OC (Holidae) The Players: Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz, Holidae Bell Word Count: 1,604 Warnings: M for Language and Suggestive Content

Notes: ...you all knew going into this it was slow burn, yeah? ....right??

Chapter 9 - In Which Closeness is a Matter of Perspective

“Lyddy, when I said I would help you with the art show, I meant things like… carrying equipment. Or getting props. Maybe picking up extra film.” Holidae subtly tried to adjust the position of her foot, pins and needles already crawling along her skin. “Being a model is not on that list.”

Lydia walked over, kicking Holidae’s foot back into place, “You are helping. Hold still, you keep twitching and get all blurry.”

Infinitely thankful that they were quite alone in the cemetery that afternoon, Holidae muttered under breath, trying her best to hold the poses as Lydia commanded them. She was wrapped in several layers of sheer black organza, designed to mimic a sort of mourning gown with a bit of wedding charm thrown in for flavor. The result was surprisingly effective, but did nothing to stave off the cold autumn weather, and Holidae could already feel her extremities freezing over. She did promise Lydia she would help her a photo shoot, and she learned a valuable lesson about not trusting the small photographer as far as she could throw her.

“I think my fingers are frozen. They’re blue,” Holidae leaned against the nearby headstone for support.

“So are your lips, now hush.” Lydia maneuvered herself around the other girl, the camera shutter firing rapidly. “Lean back like you’re just overwhelmed with grief.”

“I’m overwhelmed with something,” Holidae tried to do as she was told, dipping her body backwards as far as she could. “This good?”

“More.” Another series of clicks.

Holidae wobbled, catching herself on the headstone, “I don’t bend that much.”

“Try,” Lydia came over and tried to balance her friend, who promptly caught her funny bone on the granite grave marker.

“Fuck you, you try!” Holidae hissed in pain, rubbing her elbow furiously. “Or you best pay a chiropractor.”

Lydia went back to her equipment, fiddling around with some different lenses, and giving Holidae a much needed break before they tried again. This wasn’t the first time she had roped her friend into posing for her photos, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last despite protests from the model. No matter what Lydia would try and get her to do, or how she would dress her up, Holidae would just go along with it. It was like having a doll to dress-up and torture in creative ways.

The only request Holidae ever made was that her face never be in full view, and Lydia always respected her wish. Whether it be a large hat brim, or in today’s case a veil, Holidae was kept away from curious eyes. The truth of the matter was Holidae was embarrassed of her looks, and always had been. Self-esteem was a rough, bumpy road to traverse; and there were good and bad days.

It was a touchy subject, and Lydia never pushed it.

Lydia tapped her fingernails on her camera bag, trying to think of a solution to the posing problem. After a few minutes, she let out an ah-ha, getting up and brushing some leaves off of her skirt. In one quick breath, she spoke her ghostly best friend’s name three times in a row, summoning him outside of the house for a change.

Beetlejuice looked happier than he’d been in a while, smiling ear to ear, and picking up the small girl with a twirl, “Lyds! We’re in a graveyard! What’s the special occasion? Someone die? Someone needing to die? Picking out a good plot? Don’t get one by a tree or the roots will get all gnarly and stick into your casket.”

Laughing as he set her down, she shook her head, “No, I need a favor, but nothing that major.”

He stuck his hands in his overcoat pockets, looking like a noir film detective, “Anything for you, babes.”

“I need you to bend Holidae over,” Lydia said pointing over to the woman desperately trying to warm herself up.

BJ did a double take so hard there was an audible crack of his neck, “…do what now?”

“Balance issues. If you go over there and help, I can get the pose I want and you won’t show up in the picture. It’ll look super cool, trust me. Just go over and she’ll explain what I want.” Lydia waved him away, unconcerned with her phrasing.

There was a moment of hesitation on Beetlejuice’s part; not really sure if this whole thing was a setup in some way that would get him banished forever, or something worse. Well, if Lydia wanted him to be a helpful little demon, who was he to argue with such an opportunity.

Humming to himself, he flourished his stroll over to Holidae with a spin, “Oh, what have we here? Getting all dressed up just for me, Holly-hock? I just adore the shade of blue on your skin.”

Holidae tried to straighten herself up, covering the more see-through parts of the draping with her arms, “W-what are you doing o-out h-here? Fuck it’s cold.”

Beej pulled her tight against him, “Body heat is the best solution of hypothermia, right?”

“Not when you’re an ice cube!” She shivered, torn between accepting his offer and freezing to death right then and there.

“Hey! Less flirting, more posing!” Lydia barked at the two of them. “Save that stuff for indoors, it’s gross. He’s there to hold you up so you don’t bash your head open on the rock.”

“Lydia, you say one more word and I’m throwing your camera off the bridge.” Holidae pried herself out of his arms, readjusting him so that he would support her back. “If you drop me, you’re dead.”

Beej snickered, giving her flesh a hard pinch, “Already dead, baby.”

“Smartass.” Holidae grit her teeth, but bent back with her arms splayed our behind her, “And I am fully aware that you’re getting a good view of my cleavage, so don’t even start with me.”

“I am getting Lyds the best birthday gift this year,” Beetlejuice made a very obvious show of studying Holidae’s chest.

Over the next hour, Lydia would move her two companions in different ways, getting the most out of the fact BJ wouldn’t show up in the film. It saved a lot of money on expensive photo editing programs; but it was also just a fun way to spend the afternoon together in a new environment. When things would get too serious, Beetlejuice would make some face at Holidae to get her laughing, ruining the next few shots Lydia took until they could compose themselves. Or, at least Lydia was claiming they were ruined.

She wasn’t about to tell them the truth: those candid shots were not being deleted off her camera.

During one of their breaks, Holidae sat herself down on a blanket Lydia had spread out her camera equipment on to keep it from getting dirty, holding her knees to her chest in efforts to keep warm. Without warning, something was dropped onto her head, mussing her hair as she pulled it down. It was a dirty, ratty grey coat. Stained and stitched together in odd places, carrying the heavy scent of tobacco and musty earth.

Strangely enough, it was warmer than she thought it would be, and she wrapped it around her body as best she could, “You might want to wash this once in a while. Maybe just spot clean.”

Beetlejuice flopped down next to her, digging a pack of smokes from the coat pocket, “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it back. Ungrateful.”

She shook her head, burying herself deeper into the oversized clothing, “No no, I want it. I was just offering a suggestion. Thank you for not letting me freeze, I mean it. Honest.”

He took a long drag, the smoke hanging in the air due to the weather, “Eh, dying is what it is. Done it twice, not that exciting.”

Holidae looked around at the tombstones surrounding them, “Do you think these people would have the same opinion? What if they died doing something exciting?”

“I really don’t feel like digging them up and asking,” He shrugged, holding the cigarette between his teeth. “So what’s Lydia gonna do with all these photos anyway? Seems weird.”

“She keeps telling me she has a theme, but doesn’t want to jinx it with discussion and negative thoughts. I swear, she takes after her stepmother more than she wants to admit.” She picked at the blades of grass by her feet, “I just put up the pictures when they’re done.”

“Well, since she can’t have me as a model, at least she has something decent to work with.” He flipped the edge of the coat up, peeking at her sheer dress. “You’re not as beautiful and sexy as I am, but then again, nobody is.”

Holidae scooted backwards, tucking the coat back tight around her, “Hey, you’ll let the heat out! And good on you for self-confidence, but calling yourself sexy all the time is weird.”

Beetlejuice grabbed her by the ankles, dragging her back toward him, “Are you saying I’m not sexy?”

She was getting tangled in the coat, looking like an unhappy caterpillar, “No, I said that calling yourself sexy is weird. I would really appreciate you listening when I talk to you, Juice. I don’t just say things to hear myself prattle on.”

With a truly maniacal laugh, Beetlejuice jumped up, picking up Holidae in a bridal-style carry, and spun her around with a flourish. “Youuuuu think I’m sexy. You think I’m seeeexy~”

He set her back on her feet, leaving her to balance herself after all the spinning, and ran over to find Lydia.

“Lyds! Lyds, listen listen listen~ you’re friend said I’m sexy. Now you have to take back all those times you said I was only referring to myself as a sexual being to hide the fact that I have a lack of positive self esteem from a childhood borne of neglect. HA! Wait. Why are you running from me? Lydia!”

Writing Tags: @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @ashemspirit

[jimlingss]

Sowing a Sapling [1/2]

CO-WRITTEN WITH @dovechim

Original - A Serpent’s Flower Part 1|Part 2

Sequel - Sowing a Sapling Part 1|Part 2

➜ Words: 19.9k

➜ Genres: Smut, Fluff, Some Angst, Hogwarts!AU

➜ Summary: What no one told you about ‘Happily Ever After’s: the next day, you’ll still have to wake up and go about your life as per normal, because life isn’t a fairytale. You thought you had the rest of your life figured out: settling down happily with Jimin, ruling over all of Hogwarts with an iron fist as the Potions Master, and maybe, in the very distant future, starting a family of your own. But life, as usual, decides to throw a wrench in your plans. With a baby on the way and your husband insistently refusing all attempts at initiating sex, the arrival of a gorgeous new student teacher spells disaster for your marriage. 

If getting married to Park Jimin was the happiest day of your life, what does it say about the rest of your life? 

➜ Warnings: Pregnancy, thigh riding, dry humping, male/female oral sex, fingering, pregnancy sex, mentions of pregnancy related symptoms, lactation, heavy mentions of cheating/infidelity, usage of produce in masturbation, intense jealousy and insecurity.

➜Notes: It’s the anniversary of the original!! We thought we’d celebrate with knocking out a sequel. As usual working with Addie @dovechim is a joy, so please make sure to leave her some terrific and...thick messages ;). Enjoy!!

   Cr.

“Expelliarmus!”   The magic bursts forth from your wand’s tip along with the clear intonation of your voice, the scarlet bolt of energy zig zagging rapidly across the room to the other side where your husband, Park Jimin, stands in an equally duel ready pose.   “Protego!” He counters your spell just in time, wand moving in a simple vertical flick. Your charm bounces off his protective shield, the light reflecting in a spark as a proud smile tugs at his plush lips. “Do better than that, sweetheart?”   There are “oohs” and “aahs” of admiration coming from the students currently surrounding the dueling platform — all in awe of their Head of House, of course. The Ravenclaws taking notes on all your spells and positions, and the Gryffindors gawk. Meanwhile, your Slytherins are silently seething, and you grit your teeth in determination. You will not be shown up in front of your House by Park Jimin of all people.   He may be your husband, but that doesn’t mean you go easy on him, by any means.   This is a duel of to the death — a duel with your pride on the line.   You pretend to raise your eyebrows to acknowledge his prowess in dueling, when really you’re flicking your wand and concentrating all your energy into your next spell to catch him off guard while he is preening at your praise.

“Flipendo!” Your wand snaps effortlessly, and the blue light crashes into Jimin’s torso, flipping him upside down and landing him on his butt. A grin spreads across the faces of the the Slytherins around you. But you know better than to lower your hand.   Your lips part, ready to cast the final spell that will declare you victor of the duel, but then your husband pushes himself up with one hand, wand in the other and he shouts, “Verdimillious!”   The forward slash hand movement dispels a green light and you quickly deflect. “Vermillious Duo!”   “Vermillious Tria!” Jimin lugs himself, flicking his wrist downwards. The red jet of sparks slams into the red light, making the entire room glow in the shades of carmine and scarlet. You’re both shoved back by the sheer force of the two offence spells.   Bated breaths are held in the room, no more lips upturned in smiles of triumph.   “Rictusempra!”   “Aqua Eructo!”   Your shouts reverberate against the classroom walls. A silver light comes crackling over your form and you shriek, losing all dignity. His tickling charm is excruciating. It feels as if he’s physically here, digging his fingers into your sides, and you cower over in front of all the student.   Jimin, on the other hand, is suffering from your Aqua Eructo charm. Your wand is pointed, ice-blue light hurling at him and a violent sprout of water coming from the tip. He becomes shocked from the sheer temperature of the water stream, drenched from head to toe like he was caught in a rainstorm.   Eventually, the spells diminish and you stand up straighter, catching your breath, feeling more exhausted than usual. Across the room, Jimin squeezes the water from his sleeve, making his robes heavier. Your mind races with charms and jinxes, but then the corner of your husband’s mouth quirks—   “Carpe Retractum!”   The charm is called with a whip-like hand movement. The violet luminescence fires and your mind is numb, only moving your wrist as if you could deflect it, but nothing is spoken from your lips. Instead, the purple light pulls and seizes you, and it ripples through the entire room.   A gasp befalls from your mouth. Your wand clatters to the floor. You’re tugged into Jimin’s arms.   As if there is a magnetic attraction, your chest meets his chest. The strands of his silver hair morph into the same deep violet shade of the spell you failed to deflect, but he doesn’t care. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you as your body is tilted backwards as if it was the finale of a passionate ballroom dance.   His wet hair nearly pricks into his eyes, beads of water rolling off his skin and onto your own. A wolfish grin spreads into his cheeks, his unwavering gaze locking into yours, and you swear he’s one millisecond away from pressing those plump lips to yours.   “Ahem!”   The Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor, Yuri, claps her hands together, interrupting the intimate moment. You quickly tug yourself out of your husband’s embrace, becoming aware of the admiring stares of every student surrounding the platform. There’s thunderous applause from every side, whoops and cheers emerge, and you both bow to each other, signaling the end of the duel.   “As per dueling etiquette, the duel has been forfeited due to physical contact. Nonetheless, well done, well done indeed, Professor ______! Very impressive. Of course, Professor Park was no less impressive. This was exemplary. Please join me in thanking our two guest professors for showing us their lovely dueling skills in our lesson today!”   Another chorus of applause follows, and DADA professor reaches to help you step down from the platform. When you turn to see if Jimin is alright, a laugh bubbles at your lips to find him gloating in the praises of his House’s students, cheeks swelling into a proud smile despite his injuries.   “Professor Park, you still look handsome!” A fifth year Hufflepuff is declares as he searches for a reflective surface with which to appraise his appearance. Jimin is repeatedly running his fingers through his drenched hair — something he only does when he is nervous, as he finally conjures a mirror for himself. A horrified gasp rips through the air as he examines himself from all different angles.   He is pouting as he limps off the platform. “I liked my silver hair better!”   “Oh Professor Park, don’t be such a baby,” you chide him as you stow your wand away. Your eyes take in his slightly limping gait with concern, placing a hand on his bicep to slow him down as you walk with him out of the classroom. The professor gathers the students again, continuing the lesson and recapping what just occurred. Her voice drowns out as you shut the door quietly.   Out of sight from the students, you turn to him completely, brows furrowed. “Are you hurt somewhere? You’re soaking wet! You have to change your clothes before you catch a cold!”   Your husband seems overly occupied by his new purple hair to realise that he’s hurt. He pauses as the mirror in his hand disappears, a thoughtful frown appearing on his face as he flexes his body from top to bottom and winces. “I’m fine. It’s- ah, it’s my butt. I fell on it too hard earlier. I can’t believe you whipped my ass.”   You snort with laughter even as you gently slide an arm around his waist to support his weight. “Technically, it was a draw since you broke the rules.”   He chuckles with his shoulders. “Gotta save my dignity somehow, sweetheart. We both know you were about to crush me in front of everyone. But to be fair, I went easy on you, you know that right?”   You feel his lithe body lean against yours as you guide the both of you to the Hospital Wing, ignoring the curious gazes of students who pass you by. Ever since it was announced that you and Jimin are now a married couple, you’ve been getting more attention from the students of Hogwarts than ever. While a few glances and curious, slightly invasive questions are still bearable, what’s most annoying was Jeon Jeongguk’s absolute delight.   You still remember the look on his face when he heard that the two of you were getting married — thoughts immediately began to churn in his head, and you had to repeatedly beat into his thick skull that no, the two of you are not going to be the poster child for inter-House harmony.   “Given the number of times you slip and fall on your butt like that in normal circumstances, I can’t say I’m surprised,” you murmur under your breath, your hands tentatively smoothing over his lower back to check for any tenderness. Your husband is the clumsiest wizard in this entire castle, and sometimes it worries you. Other times, it simply amuses you just how many times he falls down in a day.   You get him settled on a hospital bed, lying on his front, of course, as you get Madam Pomfrey’s attention. It is a Monday afternoon — the most popular time for the infirmary, so she sends over a student assistant instead. A Ravenclaw sixth year bustles over and performs a few preliminary checks with his wand before shooing you away and drawing the privacy curtain around the two of them.   You’re about to protest this sudden need for privacy from your own husband, for Merlin’s sake- when a sudden wave of dizziness washes over you. It doesn’t make sense that a mere Tickling charm would have such a lasting effect on you. But the force of rapid firing spells during the duel has taken its toll and fatigue washes over you.   You stumble on your feet, moving to sit down and collect your wits again. There is a rising nausea that demands to be felt in your chest, a cold sweat breaking at your forehead, and you blink several times, making your way slowly to an empty bed that you spy from a distance away and plopping yourself down on it.    Maybe you ate something that went bad. Maybe like Jimin’s Seize and Pull Charm where you tried deflecting it and it shifted, the Tickling charm affected you somehow. But come to think of it, this isn’t the first time this has happened.    Lately, you’ve been plagued by dizzy spells, slight nausea and an irregular appetite; you thought it was just a consequence of your terrible sleeping habits and recent overwork. At least, you dearly hope so, because if it turns out that some damn student has poisoned you again, you swear you’ll just turn into the next Dark Lord and murder everyone in this Merlin forsaken castle yourself.   Since you’re at the Hospital Wing, might as well get a Strength Potion or a Rejuvenating Potion to get you back on track again — with term exams coming up, you can’t afford to get sick or slow down.   “Everything alright, dear?” Madame Pomfrey rushes by, pausing when she sees the colour of your lips. “Oh, that doesn’t look too good. Have you eaten anything recently? You look far too tired.”   She places a hand on your forehead with a frown.   “No, it’s nothing, I’m sure,” you wave away her concern weakly, swallowing past a dry throat. “It’s just…a stomach bug or something. Actually, could I get Rejuvenating Potion please? I’m a bit under the weather these days. Frequently tired, bouts of nausea, things like that. More importantly, is Jimin, okay? He was limping and lately his back has been acting up. Please tell me he’s just getting old.”   “He’ll be fine.” The matronly nurse hums low in her throat as she considers you with a hand on her hip, more preoccupied with your well-being than Jimin’s. A moment later, she draws the privacy curtain around the both of you with her wand, casting a muffling spell for a little more security.   “You just got married half a year ago, didn’t you Professor?” She asks with a kind smile. “Might it be…too much if I ask about your contraceptive methods? Might there be any chance that you are…”   “No!” The word bursts out from your mouth before you can stop it. Your denial is tinged with a little crazed laughter, and Madame Pomfrey is looking at you with an expression as if she already knows something you don’t. “Oh no no no, no way. Nothing like that. We aren’t horny little teenagers, for Merlin’s sake!”   “When was your last period, dear?”   You struggle to count back over the days and weeks, the numbers slipping through your mind. But for the life of you, you can’t remember when you had it last, though it has never been a cause for concern before. Your period has always been irregular here and there due to stress and overwork and just a terrible lifestyle in general. You always make a vow to eat better and exercise more, but sometimes life just doesn’t allow it.   “I…I can’t remember,” you admit with a sigh, knotting your hands together. “But…there’s no way I’m…”   “A simple spell will allow me to confirm if, if you’d like that?” The older woman smiles kindly, obviously aware of your current distress. “It’ll take less than a second.”   It’s hard to speak past the lump that is in your throat, so you can only nod mutely. The older nurse gently touches your arm, and that’s when you realise that you are unconsciously gripping your midsection. You let your arms fall to the side and take a deep breath, closing your eyes as the nurse lowers the tip of her wand to your lower belly, murmuring the incantation.   The wand tip glows a gentle green, a shade that you never thought would make you want to throw up. An emerald that always comforted you from young, but now it alienates you, a harbinger of uncertainty and change.   “Congratulations,” Madame Pomfrey says with a small smile as her wand light dims. “You’re pregnant, Professor _______. Five weeks pregnant.”   You need a moment.   One hand reaches out to bury itself in the sheets as you breathe in and out heavily, your chest rising and falling as you try and calm yourself down. Pregnant? You? At this point in your life? This soon after getting married? You still have a whole career ahead of you! You’re too young for a baby, not to mention, you and Jimin have yet to talk about starting a family yet. When could this have happened, even? You make sure every time to cast the contraception spell on your belly before Jimin even gets his dick out.   Unless…it was that one time when he was begging you for morning sex and you couldn’t remember where you put your wand.   For Merlin’s sake. That’s the last time Park Jimin is ever getting his sausage fondled.   “Wait here dear, I’ll just go and get you a few things,” Madame Pomfrey places a cool, calming hand on your forehead for a few moments before she’s gone, leaving you to your thoughts.   When she comes back again, she is holding a vial in one hand and a small satchel. You sit up again and push your hair back from your face, absently wondering if Jimin is done yet, and if he’ll wonder where you are.   “This is your Rejuvenating Potion, you can have it now if you like,” she smiles as she hands you the vial with a purple liquid in it. “It won’t hurt the baby, so it’s alright to take it often if you need to. But take note that it doesn’t replace the three square meals a day, young lady.”   You take the vial from her sheepishly, feeling as if you are a teenager being reprimanded once more. A tilt of your head and the potion glides smoothly down your throat, and you can already feel its effects as it chases away the lightheadedness and helps the world come back into focus once more.   “In here are things that you’ll need to be taking from now on,” Madame Pomfrey opens the satchel to show you what’s inside. “This is folic acid, a Muggle supplement that is good for the baby. And I have a few already brewed prenatal potions for you in here too, should last you at least a month or so. Come back around then and I’ll have the rest of your supply ready for you. Remember to take them, it’s for your baby’s good.”   She fixes you with a stern glare as if she is all too familiar with your constant forgetfulness when it comes to nourishing your body. Finally, she takes the empty vial from you and gives you a motherly pat on the knee.   “It may be a shock, dear, but things almost always turn out for the better,” she helps you up from the bed with a kind smile. “And tell him. I’m sure Professor Park would be delighted to know.”   She pulls the curtain aside and you step outside, shrinking the satchel so that it fits in your robe pocket. Jimin is still undergoing treatment, so you pause outside of his bed with the curtains still drawn, calling his name softly.   “Jimin? Can I come in?”   “Permission granted,” he quips in a playful tone, proving that he’s alive and quite healthy. You tug the curtain back, taking a seat on the stool next to the bed. Jimin is eating chocolate with a grin, dried off and looking better than before. He doesn’t notice how unusually gentle your voice is. “Well, turns out my butt is okay. I don’t think these buns are going to become flat anytime soon.”   “Uh-huh.”   Typically, you would chide him for speaking so casually in front of a student, but your mind is a whirlwind and the thick lump in your throat makes it difficult to talk. Instead, you look up to the Ravenclaw still hovering over Jimin with a proud expression.   “His ankle was sprained and his knee was a bit injured, nothing the Episkey charm couldn’t fix. Professor Park is free to leave as soon as he’d like. I also used Star Grass Salve on his back, Professor, the one you taught us about in last class.”   “Good, good,” you mumble, but when he doesn’t leave, this time you glare. It only occurs to you what exactly the sixth year student is waiting for after a excruciating second. “Oh-...uh..five points to Ravenclaw. I’m glad you could apply what we learnt in class to the outside world.”   The Ravenclaw gloats with the praise, satisfied and he finally leaves after pulling the curtain again for privacy.   You scowl, muttering under your breath that he shouldn’t be working in the Hospital Wing if he expects some kind of reward every time he cures a patient. You turn to Jimin with parted lips, but he beats you to the punch—   “So...what do you think?”   “W-what I think?”   “Purple hair isn't bad, right, babe?” He ruffles the soft violet strands through his fingertips. “It took about five minutes before it grew on me. I don’t know how you did it, but I might just keep it. I think I look pretty hot.”   “Yeah…you do…”   “Is there something the matter?” Your husband lowers his arms, surprised that you agreed with him and didn’t sass him back. He becomes serious, concerned, searching your expression as if he could detect something amiss. “Did I hurt you?!”   “No-no, it’s not that. It’s just….”   If there was one thing that’s changed the most in your relationship with Jimin over the years, it was that the both of you mastered the art of communication. Even if he’s a dumbass, he made sure you knew everything he was thinking about and he would listen to everything you had to say. You valued his effort and also helped work on opening communication and addressing any issues you had each with each other as they arose. The hard work you two sowed reaped what you have today.   Except….   “I’m….pre….” The syllables are heavy on your tongue and you cringe, gripping the hem of your robes. Your fingernails pierce through the fabric, sinking into your palms. The nausea and cold sweat returns. “....pre...prepared to have another duel with you.”   Your husband grins, oblivious to your turmoil. “Already? Give me a break, lady. I’m literally laying on a hospital bed, right now.”   “It...just wasn’t fair how you broke the rules because you knew you were going to lose.” You maintain a smile on your face, feeling it crack slightly from stiffness. “I need my victory.”   “Psh.” He reaches over, leaning off the bed to hug you. Jimin’s arms wrap around your shoulders, his nose buried into your hair as he pulls you closer into his embrace, and your body softens. “Of course you do. But you’ve already won over my heart. What more do you need?”   You scoff. “A lot more. I’m selfish, you know that.”   “I do.” He pets you affectionately, pressing a kiss to your cheek, and you swear you can feel a flutter in your lower belly that is most certainly not the butterflies. “Takes a lot to satisfy my good girl, doesn’t it?”   You’d usually rip him off of you, glare at him for being so greasy, especially when beyond the thin curtain was a public setting. But today, you savour his embrace, sinking deeper into his arms, even returning the hug as tears are brought to your eyes.   You couldn’t do it. You were too weak. And it’s not his fault.   You didn’t want to say it out loud — for fear that it would become too real, that the past five minutes weren’t a daydream. You don’t know if you’re equipped for this. You don’t know how to handle it. But you’ll tell him. You will. Just...whenever you’re ready for it.   *//*   For the past several years, things has been working out the way you’ve wanted it to.   Not only did you start a life with the person you love, but your personal research projects and your progress as a professor has been developing smoothly. Your career and love life are in secure places. You’re happy where you are and what you’ve been doing. Frankly, you could’ve lived the next four decades like this. It’s not like you’re opposed to having a baby, it’s just having a wrench out of nowhere thrown into your plans has left you reeling.   “Professor Park?!”   A student has their arm up in the air, waving it frantically like they’re caught on fire. You blink thrice. “What about him?!”   “No, I-uh...was calling you.” The third year Gryffindor lowers his arm, confused as you are and a bit scared of your outburst. “You were in the middle of a sentence….?”   You were?   “Yes...of course...” You nod to yourself, putting on a mask of confidence. “But first and foremost, just to be clear, it is preferable if you continue to call me Professor _____. I didn’t put in all that hard work perfecting my craft just to be known by my husband’s name.” There are nods and you swivel on your toes. “Perfect, now shall we continue on our lesson on…...on….”   “Shrinking Solution,” Seokjin whispers, sitting in the front of class and right in ear-shot distance.   “Shrinking Solution!” You mimic after him louder, declaring to the entire class, mentally thanking the Hufflepuff student. Your finger picks up a piece of chalk and it screeches as you write down the word on the board, big strokes for everyone to see, leaving a trail of white. But as you make it to the end of the letters, your hands slow and you place the chalk down, turning to address the class.   There are Ravenclaws already turning to the correct page, Gryffindors doodling on their parchment, Hufflepuffs twiddling their thumbs and Slytherins leaning back, full of confidence. One mere clearing of your throat has every student looking up and paying active attention again.   As much as your husband has softened up your image around here, you’re glad to still have somewhat of an intimidating effect on everyone.   “Children, I’d like to take a moment to pause and take a step back.” You begin to pace around the classroom, hands behind your back and everyone is on alert with the new shift in the atmosphere. “It occurred to me that I may have been a bit hasty in my lessons. Before we look into another potion, we need to respect potions as a form of magic first and foremost.”   “Does anyone know what could happen if you are not careful enough in potion-making?”   A Ravenclaw’s arm shoots up. You call on them and they answer, “you could die.”   “Yes, you could die.” You give a single nod, not that impressed. “Obviously.”   There are a few snickers amongst the students, rippling through the class and the Ravenclaw slumps dejectedly. Seokjin lifts his hand, having enough courage to voice his opinion, or maybe he’s just so familiar with you that he’s not so scared anymore. “You could switch bodies with someone.”   His friend beside him frowns with a pout and leans over, whispering lowly, “what kind of potion is that?”   Jin has a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, saying nothing more.   You glare, left eye twitching before you continue you pacing around the perimeter of the classroom. “Potentially, yes. Long story short, if you are not careful enough, if you are irresponsible, there are much worse things than death out there that could happen. You could kill those around you, cause a mass explosion and make the area inhabitable, control someone through feelings of fabricated affections. And…yes. I suppose you could switch bodies with someone. The consequences are endless.”   They all nod in understanding. You release a held sigh in your throat. “What I’m saying is that everyone needs to be cautious. This is not a subject where you can simply brush over. You either succeed or die because you were an idiot.”   A Gryffindor nearby flinches at your sharp tone. It’s not like you’re trying to purposely scare them all, but you’re on a tangent that has no plans on stopping. “Potions are dangerous. You must nurture it like a baby.”   They all seem to be following with your logic and that’s when you go in for the kill—   “Therefore, I will need an essay due by the end of the week on the generalities of childcare and details on how to raise a baby.” All at once there’s chaos in the room. There’s confusion from all sides, people flipping to the glossary of their textbook to see if there is anything on the topic, others murmuring to their friend what this means, a few raising their hands urgently to ask questions.   You ignore them all, raising your voice and speaking above them. “A minimum of one thousand words which is about four pieces of parchment. No need for a five paragraph essay, simply free-form will do. And you may pick a specific topic within childcare if the subject is too general. And…if this helps, you might want to take on a parent’s point of view. When writing it, that is. It will require maturity that is far beyond all of you, but I trust that you can do it. After all, your grade does depend on it...”   The explanation seems to answer a lot of the questions out there and there’s a flurry of students grabbing their quills and parchment, scribbling your instructions down. Before you can move on and set aside your worries, there’s a Hufflepuff at the back of the room who extends his hand.   “But madam..” The plump boy tips head to the side. “...what does this have to do with potions?”   There is pin-drop dead silence in the room. Students turn around in their seats wearing horrified expressions on who dared talk back to you, or rather, who was stupid enough to.   If looks could kill, the boy’s ancestors would come back to life only to die instantly again. It takes a prolonged stare at his yellow robes, reminding yourself of Jimin, to calm down. And an eerie smile spreads through your features, one that frightens the paintings on the wall, causing the lady inside to run away.   “Must I reiterate myself?”   Eventually, classed is dismissed and you’re put of your misery...until the next class begins. Though as you settle down at your desk, refreshing yourself on the second years’ lesson plan, someone seems to hang back, slowly approaching.   “What is it, Seokjin?” you mutter without looking up once.   Truth be told, you tried your best not to play favourites anymore. With enough time and Jimin’s insistence over the years, you realized how damaging your biases were. But deep down, there were still a few people you especially favoured. Aside from Jimin, Seokjin was probably the Hufflepuff you doted the most on. Maybe because he reminded you of your lovely husband in a lot of ways. Maybe it was because he and an older Slytherin student were technically the reasons why Jimin was your husband in the first place.   Nonetheless, Kim Seokjin should be thanking whatever deity he believes in every single day considering the miracle that you favour him, instead of spiting him for essentially poisoning you.   “Nothing.” The boy is growing up in tip-top shape, becoming more comfortable and confident as the days go by, even being brazen occasionally. Min Yoongi is rubbing off on him and you hope it isn’t in the worst ways possible. “Just wanted to see if you were well, Professor.”   “I am very well, thank you very much.”   “Are you sure?”   Your head lifts from the papers, befuddled at his behaviour. “Don’t you have classes to go to, Kim Seokjin? Or do you want to clean out the potions closet for me in your free time?”   “No...no..I have classes.” Jin rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels, his long black bangs nearly hitting into his rounded brown eyes. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”   Your pupils narrow into his. “What are you up to, Seokjin? I don’t have enough energy to keep up with your shenanigans.”   “Nothing,” the boy sing-songs and shrugs casually.   “Did Professor Park put you up to this?” Your thoughtless question receives silence and you lift a brow, sitting back in your chair. “Did he actually tell you to check up on me?”   “Only sometimes,” he spills bashfully, cheeks puffing out with a smile. “I want to be Head Boy someday, so helping out now will prove my willingness to assist professors. But if you’re doing okay then it’s fine. There’s nothing I need to report Professor Park on.”   What is this? You feel like you’re being secretly monitored and now it’s Jimin playing favourites, not you.   You scoff, lifting up your book and playfully pretending to smack him with it. He giggles and jumps back. “Get to your proper class before I give you detention and dock points from your house, Seokjin.”   “Yes, ma’am!” The boy gives a dramatic salute and then runs off with his book bag in tow.   The rest of the day goes by just as roughly. Not only do you feel fatigued, bringing yourself to sit on the stool, and you’re suffering from the occasional cramp in your gut, your mind keeps on going to a blank state. There are times you forget what you were saying or going to say, or your brain considers the fact that the inside your uterus, something the size of an apple seed is growing...and oh Merlin...how will you ever be able to handle an eight-pound living being for the next decade…..how do you even give birth...what if they have to cut you open…   What were you just thinking about?   Right, the fact that sometimes you get caught off track. Like now.   “Um….excuse me, Professor?” A sixth year Slytherin is clearing their throat to get your attention and several other students become distracted from copying the notes on the board. “There’s someone at the door.”   You look over to find a Hufflepuff first year trembling in their shoes. They’re holding onto a emerald-painted flower pot, head downcasted, refusing to look up at you. A slight smile tugs on your features. “Yes, what is it?”   “T-This is from Professor Park.”   “Oh. You can come put it here.” You tap your desk and the student comes bumbling over. It’s a yellow orchid, the colour of sunshine itself, and you find a sheepish smile lifting into your cheeks. You can’t believe he’s sending his kids in the middle of class on these kinds of errands and trying to flirt with you in the middle of your own lecture. But you’re so weak for him, you have to admit you love every gesture he does.   Your fingers graze against the soft petals. The room suddenly feels so much brighter and the knots in your chest have lifted. “You can tell him I said thank you.”   Of course, Park Jimin is not only playing with your heart, but the heart of every student. No one’s paying attention to copying the notes anymore, only females swooning and males feeling pressured like they’ve been one-upped by someone much older than them.   “That’s so cute!” — “Score! Look how much happier Professor _______ is now. Maybe we won’t get any homework assigned.” — “Hey! Why don’t you ever give ME flowers, huh?! It was our two week anniversary yesterday!”   Whatever the case may be, your husband always knows how to make you feel better without knowing that you were feeling down in the first place. Things will be okay because you love him as much as he loves you.

For the next few days, the courage to confess never comes.   This has been the only time in history where you wish you were a dumb Gryffindor who could just blurt it out, rip off the bandages, face the music. But alas, your mind likes to go into overdrive, overthinking each action and thought. There are times you come close to telling your husband, but then he interrupts or the words get caught in your throat.   That leaves you to now, teacup in hand, staring mindlessly out the window like your brain has exploded inside your skull.   Typically, it relaxes you to unwind over a hot cup of green tea. The deep swirling emerald always soothes you and takes away the tension in your neck and shoulders.   But now that you’re pregnant — it sounds so strange to you even in your own head, you’ll never get used to it — you’ve obviously had to make some diet and lifestyle changes. One of those things is sacrificing your tea and opting for ones with less caffeine in them. You sigh under your nose, trying to stop the cravings of your usual drink or a cup of hot coffee, noting that this will be one of many sacrifices to come.   “Baby, how was class?” Your husband enters the room with a smile, face lighting up when he sees you.   “It was fine.” You watch Jimin hang up his coat on the hook. “Normal, I guess.”   “I heard you assigned something weird to the third year kids. They were freaking out about it.”   “Yeah...well…”   When you and Jimin got married, Jeongguk graciously insisted that the two of you start living in shared quarters, absolutely not to demonstrate any sort of House Unity whatsoever, but simply because that’s what husbands and wives do. So by magicking some stuff and waving his wand, Jeongguk actually managed to get rid of the staircase in between your separate rooms and conjoin them together to form quite a nice little shared living space for the two of you.   You don’t exactly hate it, and it’s nice to sleep in the same bed as Jimin with him cuddling you to sleep every night. Maybe Headmaster Jeon isn’t as useless as he seems to be after all.   “I hope you’re not terrorizing the kids.” Jimin saunters up to you and is especially needy after an entire day apart. He slides his arm around your waist and you remind yourself not to flinch — he can’t possibly know yet — and kisses the side of your neck. “They’re having it hard enough.”   “They can handle it.” A soft smile appears on your lips as you melt into his embrace. Goosebumps raise as his hot breath ghosts along your skin, bringing your body temperature up as well. “I’m just pushing them to their limits.”   It feels nice for him to hug you like this. All your worries have dissipated.   He clicks his tongue lightly in a scolding manner. ���This is why students keep coming to me complaining and telling me to talk to you.”   “Who?” Your brow lifts and you crane your neck to look at him.   “It’s a secret,” your husband teases.   You scoff. “I can’t believe students are tattling on me to you. They’re undermining my authority.”   “They’re not.” Jimin giggles sweetly. “They just know you’re soft for me.”   A noncommittal noise is made in the back of your throat, wholly unimpressed with his sentiment that is all too truthful. “It doesn’t help that you like to flirt in the middle of day and interrupt my lectures for everyone to see.” You turn towards him and Jimin’s arms around your torso loosen enough for you to do so. “How many flowers are you going to send me, Park? At this rate, my classroom is going to become a greenhouse.”   “I know you like it.”   “I doubt Jeongguk likes it.” You poke his shoulder and he yields, soft to your touch. “Didn’t he give us a whole seminar on minimizing time wasting and maximizing efficiency?”   “Please, Jeongguk loves it. Anything that has to do with our love shows off ‘inter-House harmony’.”

Your eyes roll, but a grin threatens to pull on your features. “Oh, Merlin.”   The teacup still in your hands wafts its scent towards your husband. He frowns, looking down. He brings the cup to his nose for a brief sniff, noting that it isn’t your usual green tea. And you freeze, before shifting back, but to no avail. “Sweetheart, did you pour...something in your drink?”   You forgot. You were too careless.   Earlier, you had time to get out your supply of prenatal things Madame Pomfrey packed for you and you took a good look at it all. Aside from a few Rejuvenating Potions, there were also supplemental potions that can be added into tea or pumpkin juice, so you went ahead and uncorked one of them to tip into your steaming cup of tea.   At this point you’re pretty much sure it’s all over — Jimin can probably identify every single ingredient in that tea from the prenatal potion, given his background in Herbology.   His rounded, brown irises flicker up to you in concern. “Are you sick?”   “No, I’m- I’m just…”   You don’t know why you’re still making an effort to deny it. But saying it out loud demands a strength from you that you honestly don’t think you have, and instead you bring your hand to his, setting the cup down on the table. Your voice is wobbly and there is a lump in your throat.   “You’re pregnant.”   Jimin beats you to the punch. He pieces all the clues together, everything he knows about you, everything he can smell from your cup of tea, a genius in his field of study.   That’s all it takes. The situation has you bursting into sudden tears, and maybe it’s because of the heightened hormonal state you’re in as well. But you can’t help yourself from burying your face in your husband’s chest, startling the shit out of Jimin because he’s never seen his sweet, cunning and impervious wife cry like this before. Except on the day of their marriage when you were reciting your vows, a moment he had to swear on his precious family jewels that he’ll never bring up again. But he is undeterred, instinctively bringing his arms to cradle your frame.   Jimin holds you close for a moment, allowing your tears to soak into his woolen yellow sweatshirt.   “W-what are we gonna do?” You hiccup, fisting his stupid, ugly, irritating yellow sweatshirt in your hands as you pound on his chest. You hate it even more because it’s your favourite colour. “It’s all your fault, Park. Why the hell did you ask me for morning sex on that day of all days?”   A little startled at the sudden change in mood, Jimin clears his throat nervously. He remembers asking for morning sex a lot, not just on one particular occasion, so he can’t exactly be sure which one you’re referring to. So Jimin likes waking up to cuddles and lazy thrusts into your warmth with a half hard cock that softens quickly after he cums. Nothing gets him off faster than feeling your soft ass against his thighs as he fucks you from the side. Sue him.   “I love you, you know.”   “I know…” you whimper into the soft fabric of his clothes. “...idiot.”   Jimin repeats it again as if saying it once isn’t enough. His eyes shut and he gently whispers, “I love you.”   The moment is intimate and it calms the storm raging inside your mind. But it can’t completely dispel the other worries you have. And now that he’s here, everything comes spilling out.   “I hate children.”   “You don’t hate children, dear.” Jimin smiles, knowing you better than you know yourself. He pauses for a brief moment, choosing his words carefully, “you just have a very short and nasty temper, that’s all. You won’t hate someone that is the perfect combination of the both of us.”   “Well, I’m not going to be a very good mother.”   “That’s not true either,” he refutes in a heartbeat. “You’re much more sweet and caring than you let on. You’ve taken care of me plenty of times. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be in that shed your dad locked me in when I first met him.”   The memory sparks a small laugh that bubbles out your chest. “Yeah...I guess…”   “You’re the responsible one. You’re the one who gets things done.” Your husband pulls away, his endeared gaze locking into your eyes. “And I know you’re just a soft squish underneath all of this.”   He comes to tickle you gently on your sides and you laugh tearfully, pushing his hands away.   “You have to take responsibility. It’s all your fucking fault, now I can’t stop throwing up, I keep forgetting my sentences in the middle of classes because of this stupid pregnancy brain, I’ll become as round as a whale, all because you—” here you stop and jab him hard in the chest with a finger— “couldn’t keep it in your pants that one morning.”   “I’ll take responsibility for you and our baby,” Jimin assures as his smile expands with happiness.   “Good.”   Your husband keeps staring at you intently like he can’t get enough and he’s unable to resist the urge to tease you a little. “Is that why I heard you assigned your students to write an essay about pregnancy and babies for Potion class today? Something about potions being a sacred art form that needs to be nurtured like a baby. Sound familiar?”   You wrench yourself away from him and start to pace around the kitchen, and Jimin can literally see the smoke coming out of your ears. The embarrassment is eating you alive. “What else was I supposed to do? I can’t be caught in the library looking at books on pregnancy, for Merlin’s sake. Do you have any idea how fast word spreads in this stupid castle? If Kim Taehyung were to get a whiff of this, you can be sure everyone will know an hour later—”   “Is that why you asked your entire class of students instead of… I don’t know… maybe asking Madame Pomfrey?” Jimin raises a skeptical eyebrow and crosses his arms. You tend to let your temper get the best of you in situations like this, and Jimin is all too familiar with your mannerisms; you just have to let your anger run its course.   He’s backed you into a corner there. You literally don’t have an answer for him.   “Stop questioning my decisions,” you say as you shove him aside to head for the bedroom. You take it back. You absolutely hate this living arrangement. There’s nowhere for you to hide when it comes to your husband. Jimin follows you but keeps his distance, standing in the doorway as you plop yourself down on the bed, wiping your cheeks.   He’s giggling gleefully, cheeks nearly bursting with his shit-eating grin and when the announcement hits him again, he tackles you on the bed. “I can’t believe we’re actually having a baby!”   “Jimin!” You scream while laughing, suffocated under his body weight.   “Right, right, the baby! I’m sorry!”   “I don’t know how I’m going to survive living with two kids.”   “Hey, I’m responsible too!” He sits back on his ankles, massive grin plastered across his face as if he won the lottery two minutes ago. “I’m just so excited! Are you feeling okay? Sick? Nauseous? Hungry? When did you find out?”   “I found out in the infirmary after our duel.”   “Merlin’s fucking balls!” It hits Jimin like the Hogwarts Express rammed into his body at a hundred miles per hour. His arms are in the air, alarmed, eyes almost falling out his sockets. “That duel—! I could have seriously hurt you!”   You can only look at your husband with an amused smile replacing the stressed out frown on your face. “Psh, do you think the baby and I are just some suckers who would be hurt over some measly duel? No offence, honey, but your skills aren’t that good.”   But he doesn’t hear a single word you say. Jimin is fretting as he runs his hands through his hair. “But...but….but those Vermillious spell were too harsh… I think I hit you right in the stomach too, right? What was I thinking? Hurling such an offensive spell at my own wife?”   “Jimin…”   “I could’ve hurt you and the baby!” He moves to hover over you, this time taking conscious effort not to go anywhere near your abdomen. Jimin cradles your cheeks in his hands, thumbs running circles on your skin, searching your face as if he could see if he did any harm. “I could’ve made you sterile from now on and I’m pretty damn sure one kid isn’t enough. I want a lot of them, enough to rival that Weasley brood—”   Your lips are puckered like a fish by the force of his palms squishing your cheeks and you mumble, “Jimin…”   “I could’ve killed you!”   With the strength in your upper arms, you swoop up and plant a kiss on his mouth, quickly and spontaneously, enough to catch him off guard. “I’m fine. We’re fine,” you reassure with a grin as you fall onto your back again. “And I’m happy you’re happy.”   Your husband takes offence that you thought he would’ve reacted in a different way. “Of course I would be!”   “I was worried about what you would think since our careers….”   “Those things don’t matter to me as much as you do,” he reassures in a firm voice. “Our family is the highest priority.”   Our family — you like the sound of that. “I love you.”   “I love you too.” Jimin leans down kissing you senseless until you’re smiling against his lips and he’s grinning like an idiot. Starting a family with Park Jimin sounds like your worst nightmare in terms of headaches, but if you were being honest, in terms of everything else, it’s an absolute dream.

You wish your uterus came with a warning label.   *WARNING: potential of developing another human if comes into contact with sperm*   While you’re only in your first trimester, your symptoms have been severe. They include, but are not limited to: tender and swollen breasts, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, increased urination, bloating, moodiness, cramping, constipation, smell sensitivity, heartburn, morning sickness, weight gain, and intense cravings of food and weird combinations of it.   Every morning when you wake up, like a ritual, you like to turn your head to your peacefully sleeping husband and curse him for giving you this growing disease. Except, Jimin told you off for calling the baby a disease, so you’ll settle for fungus instead.   “Stop glaring at me,” Jimin chides with an exaggerated pout, practically flashing his puppy eyes at you.   Everyday Jimin wakes up happier than the day before, while you wake up grumpier and moodier. Maybe it’s good that your husband seems to be in such a good mood and so excited about the baby. It’ll counteract your growing annoyance with everything baby related.   “I’ll stop glaring at you when I birth out your fungus from my loins.”   Jimin pouts harder than before. He approaches and rubs your tummy that has the tiniest bump and looks more like you’re trying to sneak out cauldron cakes from the Great Hall. “Our baby isn’t fungus. He or she is a sapling!”   “Uh-huh. Then he or she is going to grow into a tree and wrap their branches around my intestines and pull them out when I’m in labour. Lovely image,” you sigh, unable to help your sour mood and the way you feel uncomfortable and too hot in your clothes. “Get on the bed if you want to make me feel better.”   One of the symptoms you’re facing that none of the books include is absolutely how insatiable you are. Your sex drive is in overdrive, even beating your horndog-husband’s needs for the first time. It just makes you feel so much better to be touched and it’s as if cum has become your regular drinking water. You just need to strip Jimin down and hump him a little.   But for some reason, he’s not as enthusiastic as he used to be.   Jimin places a knee on the bed with a concerned look on his face as he crawls towards you slowly, careful not to disturb the bed too much. “Do you need a massage? Where is it today? Your back? Your feet? Maybe a shoulder massage?”   You hum in your throat, deciding to humour him a little as you push aside the blankets, revealing the long shirt you slept in last night. “A calf massage. All these staircases are really taking a toll on me.”   Jimin grins as he pulls your feet into his lap, hands supporting your thighs and starting to apply pressure to your muscles, kneading out any knots he can find. With your feet in his lap, you start to wiggle your toes right where you know you want him. Jimin casts you a warning glance as he shifts your feet away from his crotch, but you are relentless, maneuvering the soles of your feet so you can give him a little massage too. You can practically feel him hardening under your touch within seconds, and his reaction warms you from the inside out.   Jimin keeps his eyes fixed on your knees even though you purposely went without panties just to make it easier for him — easy access anytime he wants — and your thighs are slightly apart, so you’re sure that he can see everything from his point of view. His cock is definitely hard now, but to his credit, he is trying his best to keep his hands on your calves, applying steady pressure.   You shift onto your knees and straddle his lap, the slight bump making your movements slightly awkward as you reach for a kiss. Jimin reciprocates with his plush lips against yours, tasting you with his delicate tongue that you desperately wish was on some other part of you instead. Your shirt has now ridden up to your hips, and you make sure to press your damp core against the bulge in his sleep pants, grinding against it to let him know what you really want.   The pressure of his stiff cock against you gets you even wetter, and you begin breathe a little heavier as your hips quicken their pace. Jimin helps you grind against him with his hands against your hips, but then you whine needily when he doesn’t make a move to pull off his sleep pants.   “Jimin, please,” you mumble against his neck, pulling your shirt up to just below your breasts as you attempt to take it off fully. Maybe flashing him your tits will get him in the mood. “Want you. Need you inside me. Need to feel your cock inside.”   Jimin soothes you with a kiss to your neck, arms circling your belly carefully as he shifts you off his covered cock and onto his thigh instead. He flexes his muscle so that you can feel him against your clit, and you can feel the way you soak his pants almost immediately. “Can you cum for me just like this? Hmm? On my thigh, baby. That’s it, that’s my good girl, grind harder.”   You move your hips harder against his thigh, but it’s no use; you feel so empty without anything inside you. At this point you can’t even remember the last time you had Jimin’s cock inside you, felt him stretching you out and giving you the good hard pounding that you’re craving. Jimin encourages you to keep going toward your ever elusive climax. He brings his hands to your breasts, helps you with the shirt and pulls it over your head, then cups both breasts in his hands. Your nipples are aching for his touch, they’ve been more sensitive than ever lately.   But the added weight on your belly has you tired out already, and you pause against Jimin’s chest, muscles already aching and out of breath. “Jimin, it’s not enough, baby, I want… I want you. Your cock. Please.” Your hands move down to push his pants lower and get your hand on his cock, but Jimin pushes you away.   He carefully helps you get off his lap, hands on your inner thighs firmly. “I’ll eat you out. Spread your legs for me.”   Jimin lowers his plump lips to your core, kissing your inner thighs reverently as the heady scent of your arousal engulfs him. At the sound of your whines and moans, he moves to your inner lips, sucking and kissing with wet licks till his tongue is laving at your core. You taste even sweeter than before, and Jimin can’t deny that it’s turning him on even more than he thought it would. He devotes his attention to taking your sweet clit into his mouth, sucking so hard that you are writhing above him and he has to place his hands on your slightly swollen belly to hold you in place.   You are still begging for him to fuck you with his cock, so to satisfy you, Jimin slides two fingers shallowly into your cunt, being careful not to go too deep. His fingers remain only about an inch inside you as his tongue assaults your clit with quick, rough licks, and you cum all over his tongue with a whine of his name, your sweet arousal staining his chin as he licks everything up. After he cleans you up with tender licks of his tongue, he places a kiss on your inner thigh before he pushes himself up to look at you, dropping a kiss on your tiny belly too.   But the look in your eyes hasn’t dissipated, and you push yourself up on your elbows and drag him in for a kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. You push yourself onto your knees with much struggle, trying to get Jimin onto his back so that you can slide onto his cock and ride him till you cum again and again, till the ache in your core is satiated by his thick length stretching you out, pounding into you so good.   “Baby… wait,” Jimin cautions you as his careful hands come to support your weight, lying back and allowing you to sit on his belly. “Ma-maybe we shouldn’t. I’ll eat you out again? Or maybe finger you? Hmmm? How does that sound?”   His patronising voice only makes you feel even more ridiculous and cumbersome, sitting upon him so heavily with your protruding belly, covered in sweat and feeling absolutely disgusting. His continuous rejections only sting more now that you’re in this state, fat and unattractive, unable to even get your own husband to fuck you. Jimin can see your distress growing with every second, and he rushes to take back his words.   “Come here,” he soothes you with his lips against your neck, kissing his way to your mouth and licking against your lower lip, comforting you with his kisses as he slowly shifts you in his lap, pushing down his pants so that his hard cock springs free. Jimin is still slightly apprehensive about fucking you in your condition, but at least in this position, you can control the depth of his penetration better. “You’re so wet, you’re soaking me.”   You can feel the head of his cock at your lips, slowly spreading you apart, and the hunger reignites inside your womb. You shift your hips down onto him, letting his cock spear you apart and you groan as you sink all the way down, taking him to the root as your walls clench around him. Finally, some much needed relief after such a long dry spell. Jimin’s cock feels so good inside you, and you start to raise yourself onto your knees so that you can drop down onto his cock.   But Jimin stops you from sinking all the way down, leaving his cock only halfway inside you as he holds you close and rocks against you gently, your belly cradled in between the two of you. He’s perfectly content to fuck you shallowly like this, feeling your rounded bump so intimately against him as his cock moves in and out of you.   “Jimin, faster,” you whine against him as your arms close around his neck, attempting to bounce on his lap faster and get his cock to sink inside you all the way. You need to feel all of him, and just having his cock halfway inside you is only making you even more desperate. “Deeper, please!”   Reluctantly, Jimin lets his cock sink in another inch, feeling your walls grasp him tightly, and he swears against your skin, gripping his fists into the mattress, anything to control himself and keep him from fucking you how he’s dying to, hard and rough into the bed till you scream his name. But you are pregnant now, and a part of him worries that he shouldn’t even be having his cock inside you. He reaches down to your clit and starts to pinch it between his fingers, hoping to bring you to your second climax as soon as possible so that he won’t risk hurting you with his cock.   But you grab onto his shoulders and push your hips down onto him, throwing your head back and bouncing hard on him when you feel his cock brush against the entrance to your womb; finally feeling him as deep as you need him. Your skin is slapping against his with every thrust, and your hips are grinding hard against him.   Then...Jimin feels the head of his cock brush against something inside you.   He swears under his breath. His arms push you up. His cock slips out immediately.   Panic swells in his chest as he grips your arms. “Di-did I just… Merlin’s fucking beard, I just felt… something — SOMETHING FUCKING GRABBED MY DICK?!”   “Wh—” Confusion ensues as you’re suddenly left empty, clenching around nothing. You’re hovering over Jimin’s dick on your knees, but when you reach down to grab him and slide him back inside your needy pussy, Jimin stops you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”   “Something grabbed my dick, I felt it,” Jimin’s eyes are wide and his dick is wet against your belly as you shift to sit on his thighs, muscles growing weary from supporting all your own weight. “IT JUST GRABBED ME!!!!”   “It…?” You narrow your eyes at him for a moment, but then it hits you and you realise what he’s talking about. As much as you enjoy calling your baby a fungus, hearing ‘it’ coming from Jimin’s mouth irrationally offends you to no end. “For your information, ‘IT’ is our baby, you jerk! And it can’t fucking grab you, it’s in an amniotic sac, you stupid little punk!”   But Jimin is insistent as he glances down at your belly as if there’s an alien growing inside of it now. “I know what I felt, something in there definitely fucking grabbed me!”   Okay maybe he’s overreacting a little, but after feeling… that brush against his dick, he can’t help but feel a little freaked out. It’s like he’s part of a horror movie, but instead of a slimy hand slinking out to grab his ankle, it grabbed his cock — something that arguably frightens him even more. Maybe he shouldn’t have given in and let you sit on his dick like this. He should have persisted and ate you out one more time, then this wouldn’t have happened.   “For Merlin’s fucking sake. Do you really think your dick is long enough for that?” Your temples are throbbing, and you are beyond irritated with your childish husband. You push him away and close your thighs, reaching for your shirt. “That, for your information, was my cervix, which you weren’t anywhere close to. Did you think the baby was just like… I don’t know, hanging out in my vagina or something? At this point it doesn’t even have hands to grab your dick with anyway! Where the hell was your brain when they were teaching all this in sex-ed class?”   Jimin pushes his hair back with his hands, fully aware that his dick is starting to soften, and this is escalating into a full blown argument. “Look…I’m pretty sure we both attended Hogwarts growing up, and there was no such thing as sex-education.”   You’ve become dry as the Saharan Desert, the urge still there, but the will and mood is not.   “Have you ever picked up a book then?!”   “I only know plants, babe!”   “Merlin, I married a dumbass!” you tiredly groan, putting yourself together and again. Jimin watches helplessly as you stand, glaring at him in the meanwhile. “You do know that my vagina and my uterus are two completely different things?”   For the first time in a while, a flash comes across Jimin’s face, momentarily ruining his expression, brows furrowing. Your normally tolerant and compassionate husband is pushed to his own point of frustration by your condescending tone. You act like you’re the only one left high and dry when he’s suffering from his own blue balls, dick softened enough to move and put on his pants. “I know that much! I’ve been reading pregnancy books.”   “Then you should also know that we can have sex because the baby is protected by my abdomen and uterus’ walls. It’s also cushioned by the amniotic sac fluid and my cervix is closed.”   He stands, following after you when your feet storm off. “I just read about all the things that could go wrong and I’m a bit freaked out, that’s all. I’m sorry, alright?!” But his tone isn’t apologetic at all. If anything, he is angered that you can’t once sympathize with him.   You sigh, feeling more fatigued than before this whole mess. “Sex is good, Jimin. It burns calories, lowers blood pressure, eases pain, and helps me sleep.” The list goes out in rapid succession, imprinted in your memory since you had looked it up after being exasperated by Jimin’s sudden low sexual desires towards you. “The only reason we wouldn’t have sex is if you caught an STI….and I know you’re clean, so that would have to mean you’re cheating on me with someone else.”   Jimin is speechless. “I—”   Your chest rises and lowers, catching its breath and you tear your eyes away from him towards the yellow daisies on the small dining table he had placed there. “If you didn’t want to have sex with me, you should’ve said it instead of forcing yourself and then saying something grabbed you.”   “I wasn't forcing myself! I just—” He is frustrated and runs a hand through the strands of his deep violet hair. “I don’t want you to force yourself to satisfy me.”   “I’m not forcing myself. Just, ugh!” It’s ridiculous. No matter how you try to communicate with him, it’s going in a circle. It feels like you’re speaking to a wall. “Go away. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”   As you turn your back, crossing your arms, there’s a long second of silence. Then you hear his padding footsteps fading off, giving you much needed space. The two of you are left irked by each other, disheartened, and frustrated. You know it’ll blow over, that tonight one of you will just crawl into bed and spoon the other person, curling up until the morning rises. Everything will be okay.   But for now, it’s swept under the carpet.

If there was a time that you wanted to switch bodies with Jimin again, it would be now.   “Min Yoongi.”   The fifth year turns around with his brows shooting upwards. “Yes, Professor?”   “Do you have the recipe?” You give him a look and he frowns in confusion, making you exhaustingly exhale and explain yourself, “for….that potion which almost caused you to become expelled.”   “Oh.” His eyes light with recognition before they return to their half-lidded, neutral stare. “No.”   “Of course, you don’t. It was a mistake. This was a mistake. It was all a mistake. I should’ve just worked at the Ministry instead of becoming a professor. What was I thinking? I should’ve listened to my mother, but then she would’ve married me to that asshole auror,” you mutter barely coherently without taking one breath, causing Yoongi to become increasingly worried.   “Professor?”   You wave your hand at him. “You may go.”   Your pregnancy hasn’t been a roller coaster...it’s been ten roller coasters. At first you were super excited at the prospect of having a child, someone who would be half you and the other half is the love of your life. You were basking in fortune, lucky to have conceived relatively easily, but then the morning sickness train hit you faster than the Hogwarts Express and it went downhill.   The moodiness symptom affected you more than when you were in puberty and Jimin was forced to walk on eggshells. You really thought that pregnancy wasn’t for you. But then the morning sickness slowly weaned off and had mercy on you poor soul. Things got better again and then worse and then better again. Your dear husband was the only thing keeping everything under control and the sole reason why you haven’t blown a gasket in your brain.   “Your feet hurt? Let me give you a massage!” — “Surprise! Here’s your lemon water that you wanted!” — “I picked up your next package of prenatal vitamins and look, there’s a potion to stop your dizziness temporarily!”   The only thing is, Jimin still refuses to touch you ever since he swore that something touched his dick. He consulted numerous pregnancy books that advised against sex during gestation, even though you are constantly horny and desperate for him to just give you a good dicking down. You even tried seducing him one night with your sexiest lingerie — only for Jimin to frown and fuss over the straps that seemed just a little too tight over your belly.   It absolutely wasn’t his intention — but as the weeks go on, you are feeling more and more alienated from your own body; disgusted with how there seems to be no limit to your appetite or your waistline, and utterly rejected by your husband’s refusal to touch you. In short, you are miserable, and it feels like you aren’t even a person anymore. You’ve become an incubator for Jimin’s child.   “How is my Sapling doing?” — “Did the Sapling kick today?” — “Goodbye, Sapling!” — “Please keep the Sapling safe!”   Now you were thirty weeks pregnant, approximately seven months, and your sapling is more like a zucchini. It’s tough to find a sleeping position and you’re in discomfort most of the time, but you’d rather opt for this state than encounter the other symptoms from earlier weeks that magic couldn't even help.   You’re pregnant enough for your belly to protrude and for everyone wanting a touch. More importantly, you’re less intimidating than ever. First years you don’t know approach and ask to touch your belly. Professors always pass by staring at you with a smile. Seventh year students always have a gleam in their eyes. On the special occasions you let them put their dirty hands on you and they feel the kick of the baby, your stomach fluttering inside, some of them tell you they wish they were pregnant too (which you express to them the horrors of childbirth and how serious child rearing is to deter them).   “How many weeks are you along? You’re glowing!”   “Oh my gosh! I remember when my mom was pregnant with my younger brother. She was in labour for twenty six hours!!”   “Can I touch?”   You’ve become a walking exhibit on display. People are always staring. Watching. Being too intrusive. They always want to cop-a-feel out of you too. You’re not just having a baby, you’re apparently having Hogwarts’ baby. At least that’s what delighted Headmaster Jeon told you when he expressed that he should open up a nursery and preschool for the child since they basically embodied inter-house harmony, and you proceeded to rip his head off. Metaphorically, of course.   You’re going to need the invisibility cloak if you want some privacy.   But at the moment, you have no concern about your privacy or how intrusive faculty and students are being. Frankly, out of the entirety of Hogwarts, as helpful as your husband is, he’s also the most overbearing. And you are furious. You are as enraged as a Gryffindor who’s been told that they have the courage of a dormouse.   Of course, no one would be able to really tell with this ridiculous face mask that you have on.   For protective purposes, Jimin said it was. All you know is one morning, he woke you up with a very serious look on his face, and told you that everyday living is simply just too risky for you and the baby. Jimin has been delving into baby books recently; these days he always has his nose buried in a book like a Ravenclaw, spouting off random facts exactly like one, and has taken to wearing circle glasses wherever he goes.   The head of Ravenclaw himself — Kim Namjoon — has taken quite a liking to Jimin actually. You frequently see the two of them exchanging greetings along the hallways or sitting with each other at mealtimes.   But anyway, the conversation that morning was something along the lines of harsh pollutants in the air. Along with all the dangerous fumes that potions could emit, which could potentially be harmful for the baby. Jimin argued that since you spend so much time in the Potions dungeon, you are 1) breathing in too many harmful gases and 2) not getting as much sunlight as he’d like.   Not getting enough sunlight. For Merlin’s sake, you’re not one of his fucking plants!   But Jimin has become quite adept at handling your outbursts these days. Maybe the thought of impending fatherhood has strengthened his cunning and his wit. Jimin then proceeded to read out a list of possible deformities and health complications that could result from inhalation of harmful gases, after which you accepted the stupid black face mask he conjured for you.   Then he proceeded to drive home his point with that one rather interesting potion two years ago that landed the two of you in this situation in the first place. After that, all of your arguments were rendered moot, and Jimin walked you to class with a satisfied grin on his face.   Pregnancy is tough. And all those people who say that one of the perks is getting to eat for two — they’re fucking lying.   You are hungry. So, so incredibly hungry that you feel less like a witch and more like a ravenous beast.   Jimin has also put you on a purely plant based diet, consisting of only vegetables and fruits that he grows and nurtures himself with the utmost ‘tender loving care’, or so he says. He frowned upon the meals served at the Great Hall one day when they had chicken and waffles, your absolute favourite. Upon watching you inhale the entire plate and demand seconds in what seemed like less than a minute, something must have made him decide that it wasn’t good for neither you nor the baby. You suspect it’s your lack of table manners, but you can’t exactly be sure.   So now you’re reduced to a sad little salad for every single fucking meal when all you’re craving is practically every single thing in the Hogwarts kitchen. Jimin even instructed the house elves down in the kitchen not to answer your requests for any midnight snacks after he caught you stuffing your face with a mouthful of roast chicken, one thigh in each hand.   “P-Professor, ar-are you alright?” The child in front of you is trembling so hard that the paper wrapper of her pumpkin pasty is crinkling. She practically looks ready to pee her pants.   You scowl at her, and her face goes white. Another side effect of pregnancy is that your temper has become shorter and shorter, which makes it hard to teach a bunch of rambunctious first years. Although you suppose that one of the main reasons this child looks about to keel over from terror is the fact that you might resemble a Death Eater with this stupid face mask on.

Exasperated, you rip the mask off and breathe properly for what seems like the first time all day. But even that is a mistake, for the scent wafts into your nose; the scent of glorious, deliciously buttery and sweet smell of her pumpkin pasty still half eaten in her hands. This particular lesson is right around lunchtime, so in all your benevolence, you decided to let the children bring in some snacks to sustain them till it’s over. You might have to go back on that policy.   The child follows your gaze that is fixated on her butter glazed snack. “B-by any ch-cha-ance, would you like a bi-bite, Professor?”   Her sweet and genuine offer appeases your temper a little. Belatedly you realise that you are growing a small tiny little kid in your stomach, not unlike the one sitting right in front of you, not unlike the rowdy little gremlins that piss you off everyday. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to smile at her.   “No, thank you… dear child. It’s very nice of you to offer.” You can almost taste how good the buttery pastry is on your tongue, exploding with sweetness from the pumpkin and spreading across your tastebuds. As much as it pains you to turn it down, you can’t risk accepting food from students after...what happened last time.   You turn away from her and face the blackboard again, your stomach growling ferociously, and you feel like crying for what seems like the fifth time today. On a whim, you flick your wand, and the homework list appears on the blackboard as you clear your throat to get the class’s attention.   “We’ll call it a day today. Ensure that you have copied down the assignments for this week, I expect every single one of you to be on time with them next lesson. Class dismissed.”   Ten more weeks. Ten more weeks and you’ll have an adorable, chubby infant in your arms, not an inflated stomach. You can handle ten more weeks. You can do it.   “Are you alright, Professor?” A tuft of black hair speaks to you at the doorway before Seokjin’s head pokes through, right as you’re sighing.   “I’m fine.” You lunge upwards to your feet, building the momentum, but the third year rushes to your side and helps you. You thank him, beginning to waddle out the classroom as he supports your weight by holding your arm. “Was there something you needed from me?”   “No.”   “Then…” You narrow your eyes. “Did my husband put you up to this?”   The Hufflepuff is all too mischievous and he shrugs. “No, I’m just looking out for my favourite professor.”   You scoff. “Yeah, right.”   “But Professor Park did want me to remind you to drink the kelp-snakeweed blend he made you.”   “Oh, I drank it alright.” By that, you mean the sink drank it. The liquid was all too bitter and even if it’s good for you and the ‘sapling’, you’re absolutely sick of this all-herb diet. “You know, Seokjin, if you wanted to actually help me, you would assist me in brewing an invisibility potion.”   “I..uh...don’t know how.”   “It’s a third year potion.” Your neck cranes down to the boy, voice growing cold. “Have you not done your readings yet?”   “Look at that!” Jin suddenly points off to the other end of the castle hall. “It’s Yoongi and Professor Park!”   Your husband — you could sing woes about him all day. He is the primary cause of all your gripes. While he is withholding sex like he’s punishing you, never getting lower than cooing at your stomach, he’s very involved with the pregnancy. Too much.   And he’s becomes even more clingy than before. So it’s no surprise when his face lights up at the sight of you and he goes sprinting down the Hogwarts corridor, hands chopping the air, feet darting, abandoning the Slytherin’s side to attach onto your arm as Seokjin lets go.   “You’re already done class? I was coming to pick you up!”   “Oh, I just finished early toda—”   “You know how dangerous it can be walking up and down those stairs! Plus, they move often and we never know what could happen! The last thing I want is for you and our baby to get hurt!”   He has no regard for the public space you’re in or how students walking pass are staring while melting at his show of affection. Being romantically involved with Jimin, you quickly learnt that he has no comprehension of what it means to remain professional during working hours, but now that you were married and pregnant, he wasn’t even trying to be conscious of his surroundings anymore.   It’s not like you mind much. It’s just that he’s practically broadcasting your private life for everyone to hear.   “Don’t worry, I’m being extra careful.”   “You never know what could happen.” He does a sweep of your body, checking to see if everything is okay before looking at Jin. “I appreciate you being here and assisting your professor, Seokjin. Ten points to Hufflepuff for your consideration.”   “It’s nothing, just doing what I should be doing.” The student rocks from his heels to his toes, bashful with his arms behind his back.   Yoongi soon joins and he’s unimpressed like you are. He wears an impassive expression and has no fear in looking directly into your eyeballs. The both of you stare into each other’s souls, telepathically sending a message. It’s nice to be around another Slytherin for once.   To Jimin’s credit, however, he was also a Slytherin in his own way. To the point that in the past two years, you questioned the Sorting Hat’s decision. If he thought you had severe favouritism issues, your parents were even more biased on house segregation than you were. With generations upon generations of Slytherins, a pride of theirs, they were heavily against Jimin when you first introduced him to them.   That was until they realized that despite being a Hufflepuff, kind and generous, in a lot of ways he was more of a Slytherin than you were. You’ll admit that your husband is certainly cunning when he wants to be and he likes to get his way.   “Good evening, Professor.”   “Good evening, Yoongi.” The both of you are pulled off to the side, having your own conversation as Jimin continues to dote on Jin and the latter is trying to convince him that he’d make a great Head Boy in the future. “Not up to any trouble, right?”   “Not for a while, madam.” The mischievous twinkle in his eyes say otherwise. “At least...you won’t find out about it.”   “I don’t think I have the energy to cover for you or chase you down the halls anymore, Min.”   “I don’t think you’re in the exact shape to chase me, Professor. Though I think it would be entertaining to see you try.” Yoongi is one of the few who don’t treat you any differently. He still has a lifeless stare in his eyes and flashes the occasional lazy smirk. You appreciate his bluntness more than he would imagine.   “That’s right, I’m not.” You give a single nod. “So instead I would have to resort into giving you detention. But you and I both know detention isn’t all that bad….so what do you say...would like you like to become prefect some day?”   While other students would dive onto their knees in joy at the sound of being a prefect, Yoongi is overcome with disgust to the point that it shows on his expression. You’re all too aware that he hates too much responsibility. “Uh...on second thought, you’re looking fantastic these days, Professor. You’re in real good shape.”   “Uh-huh.” Your arms cross. “You better start going to your Charms lessons, Yoongi. I’ve been hearing complaints that you’ve been skipping them to go practice Quidditch.”   “Charms?” His brow lifts and a strained smile appears on his face. “Look at the time! I better start heading to the Great Hall if I want to get a seat at the table. Hey, kid!” The fifth year student loops his arm around the third year’s shoulder, interrupting his passionate pitch of being Head Boy someday. “We better get going.”   “Alright. Goodbye, Professor!” Seokjin bows his head, yellow robes flashing in the light as he bids farewell to you both and is promptly dragged off by Yoongi, both of them closer than you’d expect them to be.   You scoff, shaking your head at the Slytherin whose self-preservation was to be admired. They walk at a much faster rate than you can manage and Jimin slows down, holding you close as he ushers you as if you were a sick patient in the infirmary. “I can walk on my own, you know.”   “I know.” Your husband smiles softly. “I just miss you.”   Any complaints immediately die on your tongue and you sigh sheepishly, leaning into his touch as you waddle your way towards the Great Hall. “Was Yoongi causing you trouble?”   “No, I just happened to run into him and I asked how he was doing.”   The student who once made chaos out of your life has seemed to grow out of his pranks and becoming more of a skirt-chaser lately. You may or may not have caught him snogging some female fourth year near the library one night a few months ago and while you left him off with a warning, the following night, there was no need to reprimand him again when you caught him being slapped by another girl.   Yoongi was always making mischief one way or another and if Kihoon wasn’t with him, then it was Seokjin. You hope the Hufflepuff won’t follow in his footsteps.   “Good, good. If there’s ever something wrong with any of my kids, you should tell me about it. I think I’ve let them run loose for too long and they’re taking advantage of it. It’s time to tighten up the discipline in my house before they soil Salazar Slytherin’s name.”   “You should worry more about yourself.” Jimin grins, patting your head tenderly. “Are you hungry?”   “Yes.”   The answer comes instinctively, befalling your lips like you’re recalling your own name. His expression is marred with concern. “Did you drink my kelp-snakeweed blend I packed for you? What about the kelp salad I made you this morning? Don’t worry, I have seaweed-soy-kelp salad for you for dinner. It’s fresh!”   Food is one of the small joys in life. To have it ripped away from you is disastrous.   “Does it….does it always have to be kelp, Jimin?”   “Kelp is full of nutrients and vitamins and it’s really good for the baby, the little sapling.”   “Can we at least add a bit of salt into it?”   “Salt?” Jimin frowns. “It’s already seasoned, babe. Salt would just ruin the taste and the nutrition value.”   “....Alright.” You hold the sigh in your throat. “But can you at least let go of me a bit more? We’re in public, you know.”   “Sorry.” He loosens his arms around your body, sheepish in his smile. “You’re just so much softer than you were before. Like you were pillow soft, but now you feel...pudgy. Like a teddy bear.”   Your sharpened glare flashes at him, neck craning fast enough to give you whiplash. “Are you trying to insult me? Are you calling me fat?”   Jimin ducks his head. “No.”   You feel slightly better when Jimin lowers his head and continues walking alongside you, giving you a little bit of space. All this coddling and being sweet with your husband is making you feel as if you’re losing your intimidating touch with the students, and not to mention letting your husband step all over you. It may be for the good of the baby, but you are still your own person and are capable of making your own decisions. You don’t need to be swaddled and coddled as if you’re a piece of fragile glass, or worse, a toddler incapable of taking care of themselves. All this thinking has got you into an even fouler mood, so as you walk into the Great Hall, you make sure to take the only remaining seat next to Namjoon so that Jimin can’t sit next to you and smother you even more.   Except, as your luck would have it, Namjoon and Jimin are close friends now. Namjoon immediately sets down his goblet and nods at Jimin, getting up so that your husband can take his place. Even the sight of his indigo hued hair from the corner of your eye irks you, and you avert your gaze to today’s menu — fish and chips.   The saltiness of the chips floats over and teases at your tastebuds, along with the firm, crisp sound everyone’s knife makes when they cut through the thinly battered fish. Jimin snaps his fingers, and your meal of seaweed-soy-kelp salad appears in front of you, and you nearly want to cry.   “How’s the pregnancy going, Professor?” Namjoon smiles at you from his place across the table, stuffing some chips into his mouth as he does so. “You look wonderful, if I may say so.”   Jimin is beaming at the praise directed at you, turning to glance at your swollen stomach with pride.   “It’s going,” you mumble under your breath, picking up your fork and playing with the contents of your dinner unenthusiastically.   “Is that all you’re having for dinner?” Taehyung marvels, his eyes wide as he glances over at your plate, simultaneously snapping his fingers and asking for seconds. A large piece of battered fish appears on his plate at once, along with enough chips to feed three people, at least. If you could only just have one — just one!   “She’s on a plant based diet consisting of only the finest organics from my personal garden,” Jimin puffs up his chest as he grins at everyone at the table, picking up his fork and spearing a few chips on it. “I read that kelp has numerous benefits for the baby, so I’m making her kelp smoothies, kelp salad, kelp chips… it’s been such a journey, really! I never knew kelp could be made into so many things!”   Amidst Jimin’s spiel, you remain quiet and continue to dredge through the seaweed strands on your plate, feeling utterly miserable. The rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice, however, as they congratulate Jimin once more and praise him over how healthy and nutritious his your diet sounds, and how much effort he’s putting into the pregnancy. All this makes you silently seethe over your salad, because they conveniently forgot to include the main person who’s putting in the most work growing this stupid little fungus in your womb.   “...but not too much kelp though— there’s apparently iodine in it and it’s bad for the baby. So I’ve been looking into other things like seaweed and soy…” Jimin’s voice drones on and on, and you automatically tune him out, thinking instead of the first thing you’ll eat the second this fungus pops out of your womb.   “Professor ______!” A high pitched squeal nudges you out of your thoughts and you drop your fork, startled as you glance up.   It’s Ye Eun, the Care of Magical Creatures Professor who used to be wooing Jimin, and even insinuated once or twice that they had something going on between the two of them. Even though Jimin vehemently denies it, something about the way Ye Eun grins at Jimin throws you off, even your husband looks as if he is significantly happier to see her than he usually is when he sees you. At least, he greets Ye Eun with a genuine smile, not shooting her with rapid fire questions like has she eaten yet or does she feel dizzy, is the baby kicking yet.   “Um, hi,” you mumble under your breath, not really feeling in the mood to talk.   “How are you feeling?” She fakes a look of concern with her creased forehead, reaching toward you. “How’s baby Park doing? Can I touch?”   The way she phrases it makes it sound like she’s calling your husband ‘baby’, and it irks you enough to shoot her a murderous glare. But Jimin beside you chuckles and slides an arm around your shoulder to try and calm you down.   “Ah, Professor Ye Eun, you’ll have to excuse Professor ______ here, she’s just feeling a little under the weather today,” Jimin says with a kind smile directed at her, and his comments immediately make you feel like the villain in this situation, the asshole witch who snaps at anyone trying to show concern.   Ye Eun nods in sympathy as her eyes drop to your swollen belly that is brushing against the edge of the table. “Oh, no don’t worry about it, I completely understand! My sister is pregnant too, you see. And she has these awful mood swings as well, not to mention horribly swollen feet, and she complains to me about the stretch marks on her tummy every single night. Do you have any of these symptoms yet, Professor _____?”   She turns to you and smiles sweetly, and you silently curse her under your breath. Why does she have to go and list the most unappealing side effects of pregnancy right in front of your husband like this? It’s as if she is actively trying to ruin your marriage so that she can get back together with Jimin and leave you in the lurch, a sad whale of a pregnant witch. It’s as if she already knows that Jimin has been rejecting your advances throughout this whole pregnancy, and is making it her personal mission to make you look even more unattractive in his eyes.   “No, I don’t, I’m perfectly fine, thanks for your concern,” you mutter under your breath, wriggling out of your husband’s embrace to stand up. The thought of having to witness the saccharine sweet interactions between Ye Eun and Jimin as they shoot love eyes at each other just for a second longer makes you nauseous. “I think I’m done here. I’m kind of tired, so I’ll head back first. Enjoy your meal, Jimin. And the rest of you too.”   You give them a brief nod before slowly waddling toward the entrance of the Great Hall, fully expecting Jimin to jump up and run after you to make sure you’re alright. But when you sneak a glance over your shoulder just as you turn the corner, you see that Ye Eun has taken your seat beside Jimin, and the two of them are laughing over something, their hands dangerously close to brushing against each other.   Jealousy ignites like a raging green Hungarian Horntail in your stomach, and you rush to the nearest toilet to throw your guts up.   It’s not like you to be like this. Irrational. Temperamental. Possessive.   But all of your anxiety and self-consciousness is boiling in the pits of your stomach to create a chaotic concoction. You feel out of control in your own emotions and that drives you even crazier. It’s horrible. You’re practically a teenager with severe raging hormones — one second you’re deliriously happy and the next, you want to cower over in tears.   You stand up, rinsing your mouth in the sink thoroughly, taking a moment to compose your frazzled self and when you leave the private bathroom, there’s an unexpected person standing outside. Professor Kim Taehyung is leaning against the stone wall, handful of chips in his hands, stuffing his face and greeting Gryffindor students who pass by.   His rounded eyes stare back into yours as he continues to stuff his face with food, completely unaware of the ravenous way you are staring at his chips. “Are you alright?”   “Yeah….fine.”   “You didn’t exactly sound fine.”   You glare at him. “Is there something you want, Taehyung?”   “I want you,” he says automatically with a mischievous glint in his irises, joking around and never once being serious. You scoff, rolling your eyes and finding the childish man unbelievable.   Your voice lowers into a whisper, the hall empty of any bystanders. “I’m going to shove my wand into your eyeball before you can even scream for help, Professor Kim.”   Yet, Taehyung is undisturbed by your threat. He merely quirks his head to the side, a smile tugging on his lips. “Lovely as always, Professor ______.”   The Divinations professor walks with you, but he never once clings onto your arm or helps usher you every step of the way. Aside from Yoongi, the only other person who hasn’t treated you differently is Taehyung. He hasn’t changed in the least bit. He still flirts with you, not out of romantic intention, but purely to get under your skin, and Jimin doesn’t mind. Your husband is not threatened at all by the banter, more than confident you love him, even a bit cocky when he says there’s no point in being jealous since he’s laid claim to you and the ring on your finger proves it. Doubly so since the evidence of his claim on you— i.e your swollen belly— is so obvious that everyone is constantly fawning over it.   His overconfidence just made you realise that Jimin doesn’t have a single mark of you on him the way he does on you. Your heavily pregnant state practically screams to everyone that you are taken—but what about Jimin?   Merlin, sometimes you don’t know if you want to strangle Taehyung or Jimin more.   “Do you want any chips? I think I’ve had too much.”   You look down to the crispy, greasy chips in Taehyung’s fist. They’re still warm, lightly golden brown, and your mouth salivates. You quickly tear your eyes away. “No, I’m good.”   “Are you sure?” he tempts you, but there is also a sliver of concern in his voice as well. “You’re probably starving after vomiting your guts out.”   “I’m fine,” your voice is weak and you cast a glance at him as he shrugs, stuffing the remainder of the chips into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. “You don’t have to walk me to my room, by the way.”   “I’m not.” Taehyung is blunt and even frowns as if wondering why he would do such a thing. “I’m walking to my office. I can’t remember if I stashed the first years’ essays somewhere in my desk or if I lost them.”   You smile at the Gryffindor Head of House. Walking alongside him like this, it makes you feel normal again. And perhaps it’s the way he treats you no different than before that makes you want to open up to him about the things that have been on your mind recently. “Taehyung, do you think Jimin’s being ridiculous?”   “Yes.” There’s no doubt in his voice whatsoever as he answers immediately, and it makes you feel justified for your earlier outburst. You never thought that Taehyung of all people would be the one to make you feel better, when all he does is irritate you. “I’m surprised you haven’t threatened to shove your wand into his eyeball yet. I know if I was on an all-herb diet, I’d jump off the Ravenclaw tower and into the Whomping Willow.”   You scoff before laughter bubbles from your chest. He’s truthful — you wouldn’t need a Veritaserum to know that. But when another question surfaces on your mind, you go quiet for a moment, hesitating. “D-do you think there’s something going on with Jimin and Ye Eun?”   “What?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to laugh. “Merlin, you mean Jimin? Park Jimin? The Jimin who’s completely whipped for you? Not a chance. All he talks about is you and the baby. He literally sees nothing else. No offence though, but it’s getting a little tiring. I wish you would just give birth already.”   “Me too, buddy.” You sigh, getting closer to your chamber and your steps automatically slow. “Taehyung…”   “What?” He turns to you with a disgusted expression. “It’s weird when you call me like that.”   You hold back a giggle. “Like what?”   “Like you’re my mom or something.” Taehyung extends his arms weakly, hands curling up as his eyes become half-lidded and he mimics your oddly gentle voice, “Taehyung~.....it makes me think you’re dying.”   “Maybe I am internally.” You’re at ease, nervousness vanishing. You know he’ll be honest with you no matter what. There’s no reason for Taehyung to sugarcoat his words and his idiotic courage has never made him second think the consequences of what he says. “Do you think I’m attractive?”   If the Divinations Professor wasn’t weirded out before, now he’s definitely on guard. He ponders if this is a test and decides to just be frank. “Yeah…?”   “I mean like this.” You wave your arms at yourself, showing off your potato-like figure. “Pregnant. This inflated. This big.”   “You’re attractive, Y/N. Always have been. You’re just different now.” He continues walking and you waddle after him, hands at the bottom of your stomach and supporting the weight.   “Different how?”   “You’re glowing for one. And I don’t know.” Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly. “You seem more feminine lately. Like you’re carrying a baby and that’s pretty much most men’s innate carnal desire, right? To impregnate females? You’re basically fulfilling that fantasy.”   “....Thanks?”   “You got bigger boobs, more curves, and I must admit you look pretty cute and adorable waddling everywhere.”   “Wow.” You laugh. “This is probably the hardest you’ve ever come onto me.”   “Hey, you asked.” He has his hands up. “Personally, I have no sexual desires towards you when you’re pregnant with my best friend’s baby. Like no thanks. Maybe if it was my kid, I’d feel different. But like when it’s someone else’s kid in there, it would feel like I’m invading in their territory. You do invoke a protective instinct, though.”   “Thanks, Taehyung.” You appreciate his candidness, but he continues on his tangent anyhow.   “You know, pregnant women is actually a legitimate fetish out there? I’ve seen muggle magazines of pregnant women and men—”   “Alright, alright. I get it.”   “So, you got nothing to worry about,” Taehyung concludes with a smile. “Pregnant women actually become more attractive to their partners. It’s a fact.”   “How do you know that?”   “Jimin told me. And he told me the fact is pretty accurate.”   You frown, mind boggled. “....Jimin told you that?”   “Yeah, why?”   You make a left turn, lowering your voice so the paintings can’t eavesdrop. “Well...he...uh-...hasn’t seen to shown that he’s more attracted to me.”   “What are you talking about?” Taehyung’s shoots you a skeptical look. “He’s always glued to your side these days.”   “I mean in other ways.”   “Oh. Well, if you ever need help with that, I guess if it’s for you, I don’t mind invading in someone else’s territory.” He shoots a greasy wink.   “Shut it.”   Taehyung shrugs, becoming more serious. “I don’t know. Ask Namjoon. Jimin’s been talking to him more these days.” The Head of Gryffindor pouts, feeling betrayed by his best friend.   You hum, brushing it off. “No, I’m fine. I don’t want to spread my personal...issues with everyone at Hogwarts.”   “I don’t think you really have a choice. Everyone’s already so invested in your pregnancy, might as well put it all out there.”   “Yeah, I don’t think so.”   When you left the Great Hall earlier, you were hungry and annoyed and uncomfortable. You were ready to burn Hogwarts’ greenhouse to the ground, but after having a calm conversation, you felt in control again. And you’re ready to buckle down and face your problems like the adult that you are.   *//*   “Hey,” your husband gently whispers, entering the bedroom with soft padding footsteps against the floorboard after finishing up his dinner. You’re rested on the headboard of the bed and you set the book down on the nightstand. “How’s my little sapling?”   As much as you try, you can’t help but immediately get irritated by the way he greets you- asking about the baby first. But you also remind yourself that you could be overreacting right now, and try to rein in your temper.   “We’re doing fine.” You brace yourself with a deep inhale. “Listen, we need to talk, Jimin.”   He’s on alert and freezes from taking off his dark blazer. “What is it? Is there something wrong? Is there something wrong with the baby? Are you hungry? Hurt? Merlin, are you in labour?!”   “No. Sit down first.” You pat the spot beside you on the bed, stern and unyielding. Jimin sits down while keeping his eyes locked into yours. You smile, taking his hand and stroking it. “It’s nothing bad, I promise. I just….wanted to say I’m really happy that you’re so involved with the pregnancy.”   “Of course I am,” your husband assures, “I love you and our child very much.”   “And I’m glad. But honey, I think it’s been too much lately.”   “What do you mean?”   “I’m feeling smothered.”   “Smothered?”   “I feel like you don’t see me as a person anymore. I’m just an incubator for your baby. Every time you see me, it’s ‘how’s our baby’ or ‘my little sapling’.” Tears are filling your eyes as you say it and you hate that you’re losing composure, that you’re becoming this emotional after psyching yourself up for the past half hour. You absolutely hate crying in front of people, and Jimin is the only one who you’ll let yourself break down in front of, but it only makes you feel even more like the irrational, temperamental pregnant woman you are. It doesn’t help that Jimin looks shocked and hurt all at once.   “I...I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”   “I know, I know. And it’s not your fault. You’re doing a great job. But I just wish you’d let me make some of my own decisions. I’m a big girl, you know. An adult, actually. Who managed to become a Potions Professor at Hogwarts. So, I think I can handle myself. I might need help getting up in the morning and help putting on my shoes, but I can definitely brush my own hair and walk up and down the stairs on my own. I don’t always need you shadowing me.”   “O-okay.” He nods, listening attentively.   You smile, glad that he understands and you cup his cheek with your palm, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He smiles against your mouth and you pull away. “Jimin…”   “Hmm?”   You have him right where you want him and you go in for the kill. “I want to stop the herb diet.”   “What?” Jimin is distraught and baffled. “But...it’s good for you and the baby.”   “No.” You shake your head. “It’s not good for me. It’s driving me nuts and if I don’t get a proper meal soon, I don’t know what I’ll do. I might just throw you out of our room and I’ll make you room with Taehyung.”   His brow lifts. “You want to stop my diet plan?”   “I want my three meals to return. The food at the Great Hall really isn’t that bad. We used to eat it for years on end, and nothing happened. But we’ll compromise, okay? How about I drink your brew once a day, so I can get that nutritional value?”   Jimin slowly nods after much contemplation. “That sounds fair.”   “Good.”   The corner of his mouth tugs up into a smirk and he quirks his head to one side. “Is this what’s been bothering you so much lately?”   You hum. “Mostly.”   Your husband smiles in relief. “I thought it was something much worse.” He comes over and embraces you, nose pressed into your neck and breathing in your scent. “You should’ve told me sooner.”   You run your fingers through his violet hair that reminds you of pansy flowers. “Well, I didn’t want to ruin your enthusiasm.”   “That doesn’t matter. You’re what’s most important to me.”   As much as Jimin drives you absolutely insane, you love him. He is patient, tolerant, hardworking and loyal. You’re even happier to hear that he finds you attractive. All your worries have dissipated.   “You know,” your voice drops into a seductive whisper, hot breath skimming on the shell of his ear. “I’m wearing your favourite yellow lingerie set right now.”   “Why?” Usually, Jimin’s a horndog enough to catch on, but this time he pulls away and looks wholeheartedly confused. “Isn’t that too tight for you now?   Oof. His diss pierces straight through your chest and a muscle in your cheek jerks at his audacity. But you cover it with a stiff smile, not bothering to dwell on your idiotic husband’s words when you have a much more important goal in mind. “I managed. It’s my favourite too actually. Do you want to see?”   Jimin lets his eyes drop to your swollen belly, contemplating in his mind for a moment, deciding to keep his worries about whether the baby can actually breathe if you wear tight clothing to himself. He smiles as he attempts to distract you from your rather… risque intentions by kissing your cheek. “Sure, baby, why don’t you get more comfortable? Do you want me to help you take your shirt off?”   You mumble a yes and stretch your arms out for Jimin to help you with your shirt, heart in your throat as you wait for him to see his favourite lingerie set on you. Sure, it might have been a struggle to get it on earlier, you huffed and puffed and nearly broke out in a sweat, but when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you feel… sexy. For the first time in ages, you feel attractive even without your husband’s gaze on you. You were able to give yourself a validation that wasn’t dependent on anyone else.   All of this fuels your confidence now as you bask in Jimin’s gaze upon your body, the lingerie doing a perfect job of accentuating all your curves. And okay, maybe Taehyung’s words did help as well. Knowing that maybe deep down, Jimin is still as in love with your body as he was all those years ago, just that he needs some encouragement to show it, helps you put yourself out there again.   “Did you have a tough day in class today? Maybe I can help with that…” you let your voice trail off suggestively, your hand on his firm and toned abdomen slowly dropping lower and lower to the dress pants he still has on.   “Tough day? No, I was fine,” Jimin places his hand over yours gently to stop you from going any lower. “Do you need a massage again? Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”   You briefly consider your own body and take a survey of what currently aches and what doesn’t. As the months go by, your breasts have grown a cup size, now currently they are very sensitive, and it would be nice to feel Jimin’s soft hands on them…   “My breasts hurt a little,” you pout at him, and Jimin immediately springs to action, helping you unhook your yellow bra from the back so that he can see you in all your glory. Although from the way he does it, you feel more like a cow being released from its harness rather than a woman being undressed by her husband.   Jimin carefully cups your breasts in his hands, taking care to massage them gently, placing pressure around the areola. You note that they’ve grown enough to fill his small hands when before, he still had some room to spare, and you can only hope that Jimin realises this fact as well and perhaps gets turned on by it too...but no luck.   Your husband has a look of concentration on his face as he massages your breasts, and even though his thumbs are skimming over your nipples and making them rock hard, he has not even a trace of arousal on his face. He is doing this very apathetically and methodically, focused on easing your discomfort as much as possible rather than bringing you or himself sexual pleasure.   “Feel good? Harder? Softer? Tell me what you want, baby,” Jimin checks in with you as his hands pause on your heavy and swollen breasts.   You glance down at the crotch of his dress pants, but there are no signs of his arousal. Usually, Jimin would be bursting out of his pants like the Hulk by now, and you decide that it’s time to up the stakes.   “Suck on them, please? They’re really sore,” you plead with him, seeing a look of hesitation cross his face immediately.   “Baby, if they’re sore then I shouldn’t suck on them, let me check the books, or ask Namjoon. Maybe there’s a spell or some kind of special ointment…”   “But I want your tongue, Jimin,” you place your hands over his with what you hope is an endearing look on your face. “Just for a bit. I promise it won’t hurt me or the baby.”   Jimin still looks a little reluctant, but he leans in and cautiously takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and laving his tongue against your stiff and puffy nipple. The pressure makes your core heat up, and you can feel yourself start to become slick between your legs.   Having Jimin nurse from you like this triggers a protective, motherly instinct in you, but it also makes you even hornier than you already were. His little licks and sucks are not enough to satisfy you, on the contrary, they fuel your lust even more. Jimin switches to the other breast, getting more and more daring as he begins to suckle earnestly, when suddenly—   A sweet, thick liquid bursts onto his tongue, and he draws back in surprise, yellowish milk dripping from his bottom lip as he wipes it off with his thumb.   “Shit, did you just—”   “It feels better now,” you admit. “There was a lot of pressure because of… that.” You watch his expression closely as Jimin tastes the substance on his tongue before he swallows it down. Then, he reaches for your still dripping, puffy nipple and runs his fingers through the thick liquid in wonder. “You-...you don’t find it gross, do you?”   “Gross?” Jimin exclaims. “No, why would I think that? You’re beautiful, and this is so amazing. You’re making milk for our baby, and it… it tastes good. Our baby is so lucky.”   Jimin bends down to lick the excess milk from your nipple before going back to sucking for a while more, but there’s no more milk for now. He draws back with a proud grin on his lips, as if he is satisfied with himself for having alleviated your needs so adequately. Then, he settles in beside you as if to turn in for the night, and you turn to him, utterly frustrated.   You blow out a sigh between your lips. Since when was Jimin this opaque when it comes to sex? You never thought you’d have to resort to begging your horndog of a husband to dick you down. But at this point you are so starved for physical contact, your core has never felt more neglected and empty in your entire life, even though technically there is a baby in your womb right now.   “Let’s fuck. Right now.” You look at Jimin directly as you say this, not a note of embarrassment in your voice whatsoever. You are a horny, pregnant woman and you need a good dicking down from your husband immediately.   Jimin seems utterly taken aback by your request as his eyes widen immediately, hands coming to rest on your knees and massaging them tenderly. “Wh- I… We shouldn’t, baby.”   “Is this about something grabbing your dick again?” You narrow your eyes at him, but Jimin is quick to deny it.   “Then? What is it?” You demand, almost at the end of your rope now with desperation. “D-do you not find me attractive anymore?”   “Wh- No! Of course not, baby! You are…you so are beautiful, all swollen with my child like this. I love you,” Jimin insists.   “Then why won’t you touch me? We haven’t had sex properly in months, and…” your voice rises into a desperate sob.   Your husband shifts uncomfortably, palms clammy and rubbing together. He avoids your gaze, diverting his eyes elsewhere, voice small in the face of your saddened rage. “I do want to fuck you, but…”   You’re on the verge of bursting into tears. “But?!”   Jimin releases a long exhale from his lungs, his shoulder slugging and his back slumped. He is as distressed as you are. “Can’t….can’t we just wait until you give birth?”   “What?!”   There’s something that he wants to say, a secret that he’s been keeping from you, something deeper that he’s not saying. It’s obvious by the way he licks his lips in hesitance, the way he can’t even look at you. You don’t understand. None of it adds up. If he’s attracted to you, if he’s this involved in your pregnancy, why can’t he tell you whatever problem he’s having?   But you fail to get to him. He simply hangs his head and utters — “I don’t want to hurt our baby.”   “You’re not going to hurt our baby!” You’re in absolute hysterics, gone bat-shit insane. “I told you that I’m healthy, that sex is good and there’s a lot of benefits unless you fucking caught an STI because you cheated on me!”   Jimin has his arms in the air, offended from your accusation. “I would never cheat on you!”   “Exactly!” You just can’t wrap your mind around it. “So, I don’t understand either!” You can practically see Jimin freaking out on the spot as he frantically tries to find the right words to appease you. But you don’t want to be appeased, you don’t want to be placated or patronised. You just want a nice, good hard fuck.   “Forget it, you don’t have to force yourself to touch me if you don’t want to,” your voice is hard, defensive, as you push your husband away and struggle to get up from the bed. It irks you that Jimin has to support you from behind as you waddle to the shared bathroom and lock yourself inside, putting the lid down on the toilet and sinking down on it.   You are too sexually frustrated to cry. The throbbing between your legs demands to be taken care of, and you are so wet and sticky that your underwear is completely ruined.   “Baby… are you alright? Come out and we can talk about this,” Jimin knocks on the door.   You grit your teeth and wandlessly silence the bathroom before closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall. This clearly can’t go on. You need some relief, and soon, or else you’re going to go crazy.   Finally, an idea comes to mind, and you muster your concentration, imagining the thickest, longest vegetable you can think of. A large cucumber appears in your hand, and you sigh in exasperation. You can’t believe you’re resorting to this, of all things.   You lower your hand, gathering whatever slick you can. When you ease your fingers in, you realize you can’t feel anything. It’s not nearly the stretch that you want. In the meanwhile, Jimin is still knocking on the door, pleading with you, but the sound is blocked and in the peace and quiet, you bring the head of the green cucumber to your pussy lips.   Your arousal coats the end and right when you’re about to push in...you realize what you’re doing.   You’re sitting on the toilet. You’re about to fuck produce. More specifically, you’re about to shove a cucumber up your pussy.   And you finally burst into tears. You lean back, crying, tears soaking down your cheeks at how pathetic and desperate you’ve become. In an attempt to make yourself feel better, you bring the cucumber to your mouth, teeth chomping down on the refreshing produce. You chew in your cheek, placating your still growling stomach. At least vegetables are good for the baby.   As if the growing baby inside of you can hear the echoes of your cries, you feel a sudden flutter in your stomach. You look down to see a foot imprint underneath your skin and you laugh tearfully, tracing the child’s foot until it gets ticklish and moves away. Your swollen belly bounces around for a bit and you pat it, rubbing it gently. “I’m going crazy, aren’t I, Sapling?”   After a moment of collecting yourself and eating the rest of the cucumber, you stand and wash off your face at the sink.   When you open the door, Jimin hugs you and immediately showers you in apologies while validating you that he loves you very much. You nod, apologize for breaking down as well and you let him embrace you for a full two minutes. The pair of you end up crawling in bed together, Jimin supporting you along the way.   There are two choices that you have.   One — keep trying, asking, prodding Jimin for sex and find out why he’s been avoiding it so much. You can dwell on it, give yourself headaches and affect the baby through stress, make your husband uncomfortable. Two — give up and accept Jimin’s new state. He still loves you. That much is obvious. And it’s not like you need sex. You’ve lived eighteen years without it.   You don’t need it. The more you think about it, the more you agree with yourself. You can prove to yourself that you still very much love Jimin without sex. You don’t need it. You don’t need it. You don’t need it.   At least that’s what you try to convince yourself.

[ducktracy]

127. i’m a big shot now (1936)

release date: april 11th, 1936

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: n/a

feels like it’s been forever since friz did a merrie melody! fret no longer. he returns with i’m a big shot now—a bluejay robs a bank in tranquil birdville, and the police are hot on his feathers.

open to the bustling streets of birdville, a chipper, easygoing town rife with cheery birds making their rounds. a construction worker bird ties a string to a worm, which is attached to a pulley. tugging on a pulley feeds more string to the worm, who wraps itself around a spindly “base”. in no time, the worm weaves itself a bird’s nest for the bird. elsewhere, a woodpecker hammers away at a long, disturbing a ladybug. the ladybug hops out of a hole and hammers the woodpecker’s beak, wilting it’s point, the bird now stuck.

the birdville bank is as bustling as ever. signs hang on the bank-teller’s desk—“2 1/2 worms interest on all deposits”, and my favorite “save for a rainy day — buy umbrellas”. a bird places a hefty basket full of acorns on the owl bank-teller’s desk, who inspects the goods. they pass muster, and he deposits them away, writing in the bird’s checkbook.

we’ve seen the good side of town. the happy townspeople bustling about, tending to the bird finances and bird relationships. with the good comes the bad—pan over to the seedy side of town. mobsters loiter outside a saloon, a promiscuous woman exiting said saloon, wanted posters up... a great juxtaposition that’s very well executed. we follow a bird into the saloon, where dancing is abundant, everyone not without their cigar and newsboy cap.

focus on a particularly intriguing character, a bluejay propped up against a bar, shifty eyed as he tosses a coin in his hand. a great choice of character design—the natural black markings around the eyes paired with the striped shirt, newsboy cap and cigar certainly make him read as a stereotypical robber. he greets one of his buddies who walks into the saloon before launching into the title song, narrating how he’s abandoned his softie days for the rough and tough lifestyle. he coyly rolls his eyes as he growls the chorus of “baby, and how—i’m the big shot now!” the song is mainly sung in patter song (talking)—it’s a nice touch and the bird is full of personality.

just as he sings about how he can lick those police officers, a cop strolls outside of the saloon and overhears. the bluejay sticks his hand out of the saloon doors and drags the cop inside. offscreen bearing and pummeling, and the disheveled copper is tossed back onto the streets. finally, to celebrate, the bluejay pours himself glass upon glass of whiskey. he slams his fist down on the table, the board propelling the contents into the air. he opens his mouth and catches each gulp, a lovely detail as he suddenly goes back to retrieve one more gulp as you least expect it.

suddenly, inspiration strikes. he meanders over to the saloon doors, and tilts the slots like blinds. he spots the birdville bank just across the street, delighted at the goods that lie inside. it’s fun to see friz play around the typography, the word BANK zooming on screen and dissipating away. the bluejay signals his mobster fellas to follow him. they grin knowingly and nod, one of them shoving away his date in the midst of their dance. fantastic comedic timing as they inconspicuously cross the street, the bluejay whistling “i’m a big shot now” all the way. his cronies stroll into the bank while he slowly settles in, leaning against the exterior wall and tossing his beloved coin...

and a flurry of gunshots and bullets explode into the air, the bluejay unaffected as he keeps an eye out. the timing is perfect and the bluejay’s innocent façade sells the gag perfectly. another one of his buddies pulls up in a car, and the robbers all pile in, including the bluejay. they take off with their souvenirs, their continued gunfire serving as a reminder of their presence as they shoot out the back of the escaping car.

and, of course, the police chase after them right away, officers dangling along after their own car held on merely by hands as they scramble to follow. thus begins a dramatic shootout. the gangsters fire, and a police officer retaliates. he shoots, the impact so strong all of the birds slingshot backwards, held intact by the last bird who’s clutching to the sides of the car. a literal slingshot. the animation is smooth, funny, and captivating. even the exhaust pipe from the gangster mobile fires bullets, highly amusing as the bluejay pops his head out of the exhaust pipe, wielding a gun.

although the chase rages on as we fade out, a news headline pops into view: BANK BANDITS ESCAPE. fade to a telephone pole, a wanted poster of the bluejay plastering his grizzly mug, promising rewards of 500 worms (what an incentive!) zoom in to the offending bluejay admiring his own wanted picture as he’s in the comfort of his own home. laughing heartily and tearing the flyer in two.

he pokes his head out of the birdhouse, asserting the coast is clear. pan down to his car parked at the bottom. a nearby police officer strolls on duty, when he recognizes the car. he summons his brigade of police officers, who are all hiding out in the bushes, behind trees, etc. thus launches another shootout, the bluejay shooting from inside his birdhouse and the cops from outside. the bluejay reduces each of the officers’ hats to mere shreds as he shoots through them like butter. another police officer fires rapidly at the bluejay, the force so strong that he unintentionally buries himself into a man-made hole (an essential looney gag that’s hilarious each time.)

even the bluejay finds the novelty lost in the tedious gun fight, halfheartedly and nonchalantly firing back while flipping his beloved coin. a great detail that’s almost like friz’s way of saying “yeah, this is supposed to be tedious”. almost a tex avery-ism of sorts. the bandit’s indifference is quickly rattled once a bullet pierces a hole through his coin—now full of contempt, he shoots back with rapid fire. a bird fires a rifle from a tree branch, the impact sending him whirling around the branch as he desperately clings on with his talons. birds swoop in like fighter jets and fire at the birdhouse.

a particularly brave bird puffs out his chest and beats it for good measure, giving a good ol’ tarzan yell as he swings from a vine. nice perspective as he swings in front of the house, firing with his gun, then swinging the other way and continuing to shoot. a police car screeches to a halt beneath the house, and one of the cops fires a ton of holes in the floor of the house. in pure looney style, the holes form a circle right around the dumbfounded bluejay, and sure enough he plummets into the police van, where he’s tackled and beaten ferociously as we fade out.

fade back into the local prison, the bluejay now behind bars. he sings more of “i’m a big shot now”, instead altering the lyrics to “i used to be a toughie, but now i’m just a softie.” he flamboyantly poses as he sings about how he’s limited to just a jailbird now, and we iris out as he glumly rests his head on his hand, staring at the outside world he once knew.

a merrie melody that is riddled with more gags than the average friz melody for sure. i loved the character design of the bluejay, a very smart use to manipulate their natural markings like that. he was full of personality and fun to watch, and was definitely the highlight of the short. lots of funny gags, especially the scene where he and his cronies innocently stroll across the street just to shoot up the bank. some of the shootout scenes did run a little long for my tastes (and friz even admits to this as we see with the bluejay’s bored expression as he fires back), but it wasn’t a cartoon that crawled along. it was staged nicely and had a lot of good moments, and because of that it’s worth a watch.

link!

[inforapound]

Ease The Dawn  Chapter 11

A/N - Thank you for reading and leaving comments, liking or rebloging. Your support is amazing. Just a reminder that I am still learning this writing thing. 

Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith

Chapter - 11 of 18

"I am to be the Queen of Mercia," she said raising her chin, her voice feigning importance. "My husband has had his eye on the title of king his entire life," she added flatly.

"I will take Mercia one day," he said, looking up from the map before him. "And all that is in it."

"Will you remember me, my Lord?" she asked, the soft candlelight making her eyes twinkle.

"I will remember you," his gaze lingered, scanning her face causing her cheeks to warm.

"I should have refrained from telling you. I foresee it," her tone turned playful. "Your army would storm the walls, you will hack your way inside the doors of the parish and come face to face with me."

"Continue," he flicked his hand, his eyes slowly scanning her mouth and throat, the dip of skin between her collar bones peeking through her loosely wrapped shawl.

"You would flee for the hills of course," she laughed, "faced with me as a captive. Twice."

"I flee from nothing," he sniped, his amusement clear in his bright eyes.

"Oh no? Even a princess who is a very annoying person?" she imitated him sarcastically, shooting him a grin. Taking a drink from her cup, she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to cut the sour taste of the ale.

Taking a deep drink, Ivar could not help but smile. Returning his eyes to his papers, he tensed and looked back to Aethelswith, tilting his head forward toward her.

"Never hide in a church," his tone was serious and his expression hard. The muted light made his chiseled features appear harsh. "Never flee to a Church. Do you understand?"

Glancing down at the table, she could see that his hand was squeezing his horn of ale. Looking back up, she nodded her agreement.

"Tell me," he ordered. "That you understand."

"Yes, I understand," she answered quietly.

They sat in silence, both distracted by their own thoughts, Ivar staring down at his desk. The ease evaporating quickly from the space. He shifted uncomfortably on his stool and she noticed a twinge of strain flash across Ivar's face. She had never asked about his legs; the pain he was obviously in. The torment they clearly caused him and she never would. Studying his features, she noticed how smooth and perfect the skin of his face was, save for the small scar on his right cheek. Her eyes dropped to the gentle lift of his upper lip, just below his nose. Who would he be, she wondered, without those defective legs? Not nearly the man sitting across from her now. Those hobbled legs were, surely, the foundation of his ruthless drive for reputation. Acceptance, more so, she thought. Who would he be if the world had not instilled that sticky layer of shame.

"People are not that different, you know. Regardless of who they are. Their titles, religions even."

"Ridiculous," he scoffed. "You think like a child. Look at us."

Finishing her drink, Aethelswith tilted her head in contemplation.

"People are a result of their rearing, their circumstances, and experiences. Hardships and pain....Joy." Pausing, she looked back to Ivar, waiting for him to tease, but continued seeing that he was listening. "Would we be any different, if we had lived the life of the other?" she continued without waiting for a response. "Dreams and desires belong to all people my Lord... and shame." Pressing her lips together, she smiled flatly. "We cannot forget about shame."

Lifting the jug, Ivar refilled Aethelswith's horn and then his own.

"What do you know of hardship and pain?" he asked but then froze, jug still suspended over his cup as the image of her vile husband and her disfigured back came to mind. Placing the jug down, he stared into the dark contents of his cup unsure of what to say.

"I know more about those things than I do joy and desire." Sipping her ale, she glanced up to him as if waiting.

"Tell me about your shame then?" he asked, hoping to alter the course away from his comment.

"You will keep my confidence?" she asked quietly, thinking what a perverse question to pose to her captor. Absurdly, she felt there was a sort of privacy between them and the outside world, allowing her to admit things that she would not even to her brothers. Not a soul would ever know what they shared. There was freedom in that, she thought, even if it existed solely in her mind.

Instinctually, Ivar wanted to scoff. Wanted to tell her he did not care enough to repeat her words.

"I will tell no one." He watched her thoughts dance across her face. Worry, relief, sorrow. "No one will learn your secrets from me."

"I have never kissed a man," Aethelswith whispered as if she was surrounded by hundreds of people and only wanting his ear to catch her words.

Jerking his head to one side, his brows furrowed in confusion, and he took a deep swig from his cup. "But you are married."

"I am," she replied still not looking at him, keeping her eyes on the table.

"Unbelievable," he waved dismissively assuming he was being mocked.

"We have never shared chambers," she added, her eyes flicking up to his for an instant.

Taking a drink from her cup, she wiped a small drop slipping down her chin with the inside of her wrist.

"What of your wedding? You must have kissed at your ceremony?" Ivar prodded.

"No, that is not part of a Christian ceremony."

"That is absurd," he drained his cup, grabbing the jug and refilling both of their drinks.

"Christians do not consummate their marriages either?"

Not responding, she just looked down into the full cup she held in her hands.

Grimacing, a shot of regret moved through him. Worry, she would retreat from the discussion. Should he ask more questions, he wondered, watching her avoid his attention, not lifting her face to meet his.

"I have only ever been with one woman," he blurted. "A thrall all of my brothers' bed." Fuck, he thought, holding his breath. What was he doing?

Looking up, her eyes widened but she glanced away quickly, taking another sip from her cup.

"You are the only man, other than family, that I have ever been in a room alone with... unchaperoned." Her eyes returned to his. "Let alone shared a tent with for over a hundred days." Raising her eyebrows, she took another sip.

"How many men have seen you in your nightclothes?" Ivar took a pull from his cup glancing down at her robe.

She looked up quickly but glanced back down to her hands. "One."

Ivar furrowed his brows. "Not even your husband? Only me?"

She said nothing, her face looked tight.

"My first time, with the thrall, was not a success...because of this," he gestured with his hand to his lower body.

STOP, he silently blasted himself! Stop! Had he truly just admitted that? Confessed to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen that he is not capable of being a man. The last thing he would ever want her to know. Gods, he stifled a groan.

Staring at him, her expression was even. He searched her face for signs of amusement or repulsion or pity but nothing.

"My husband took me by surprise. By force." She took another drink. "Brutally, and with an audience of three of his friends. It was in a corridor outside the kitchen just feet from our wedding banquet where everyone was dining." She paused, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear that had fallen free from her braid. "I do not think of it often," she swallowed and fumbled with the shall around her shoulders. "But occasionally I hear their laughter... in my dreams."

For the first time since she was dragged into the camp, Ivar saw that her eyes were dull. A spear of rage hit his chest and he squeezed his mug so hard it exploded. Liquid spilled over his knuckles and onto the table, running off into the grass below. His jaw clenched and the skin around his eyes began to burn. He wanted to scream. He wanted to grab her small frame and hug her to his body. How could anyone treat a woman like her, like that?

"I will kill him!" Ivar roared. "I will cut off his head and piss down his throat. I will inflict the worst pain that has ever been inflicted on any man," he shouted.

Perfectly still, Aethelswith did not react, did not flinch, or move a muscle. How could she have admitted such a thing, she asked herself, feeling detached from her body. Blinking rapidly, she tried but could not focus.

"Why did Alfred not do something? Punish him? He obviously tortures you. How can he let it continue?" Ivar seethed. Leaning forward, he planted his hands down on the wooden table. "What kind of brother is he? What kind of king?"

"Alfred does not know," she whispered, her voice sounding frail.

Rising, she stood and leaned forward, placing her own hands onto the table to steady herself. Gazing at her, Ivar softened, seeing her face so close. Straightening, she turned and moved toward her bed, dropping her shawl on the grass beside. Pulling down the furs, she crawled in onto her side, her back almost touching the canvas wall. The dim light illuminated her blank face, casting shadows over her eyes, making her looked haunted.

"You see, my Lord," she spoke so quietly he could barely hear. "We have both known shame."

Breathing loudly in and out of his nose, Ivar grabbed the edge of the table, flipping it onto its side. Papers and chess pieces flew through the air and the candle pitched, casting the tent into utter darkness. Dropping to the ground, he dragged himself to her bed, perching on the edge. Grunting, he wanted so desperately to embrace her, wrap his arms around her, cut her open from her soft throat to her tender belly and climb inside, lay within and hold her heart. Instead, he pulled the furs up to cover her shoulder and slid his hand across the sheet, stopping just shy of touching her hand. It was not an embrace, it was not a caress or a physical act of affection but to Aethelswith, his hand jetting out toward her's was everything.

"Sleep woman. I will sit here."

Listened to his breathing, she did what he said.

.

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