#the wave/toe comparison really hit me

[izzysillyhandsy]

More observations from my first-time-watching-OFMD friend after the S1 finale:

Izzy's little wave in Ep9: "It's like: Hi Ed, it's me... Does it even matter anymore that I'm here?"

Izzy's reaction to the toe incident in Ep10: "At first he's almost happy about it, isn't he? We're Blackbeard again, you need me. It does matter that I'm here!"

Me: Oh my god you're killing me 😭

Izzy's betrayal upset her at first (she texted me: "By the way, we have to talk about Izzy selling them out to the enemy, that's actually not cool") but while talking about it she came up with this interesting thing later.

"In close relationships, behaviour-wise, partners often do the opposite of what the other is doing. You're crying, so I have to be strong. It's like a scale - one goes up, the other down.

You can see in the early episodes - Ed is still Blackbeard, strong and confident; Izzy is calm and keeps in the background. He talks softly to Ed while Ed is often hurtful and raises his voice (the model ship scene or the cloud scene). But when Ed is suddenly being vulnerable, Izzy compensates - in Ep4 (the empty shell of a man scene) it's still ok, Ed can deal with it, they're both closer to being equal.

Even Izzy selling Stede out doesn't seem like a total dealbreaker - it's an extreme reaction to Ed's extreme indecision - so Izzy has to be super decisive.

But in Ep10 Ed is all the way down, super vulnerable and Izzy's side of the scale goes way, way up. He's so cruel because Ed is so soft, because he "has to be the tough one" here. Izzy can't be like Stede who'd go right down and be vulnerable with Ed. Someone has to keep watch and compensate. This is how it's always been, it's survival.

Ed taking Izzy's toe is traumatic, but in this framework acceptable for Izzy. Ed's scale is higher up then ever, so Izzy is completely at Ed's mercy (and smiling and whispering to him)."

Me: ⚖🤔 ...there might be something to this

[multiwreckedmess]

Two Princes (The End?)

Pairing: Prince!Hyunjin x fem!servant!Reader x Prince!Felix Genre: Royalty AU Smut WC: 9k (ish) Summary: The realities of life hurt more than if the two Princes were just a daydream. It’s time to be honest. 

TW: Sexual assault (not by the boys, I will include additional detail below the cut to review at your own discretion), threats of violence (not to yn) CW: Sir title, creampie, anal penetration, dacryphilia, yn referred to as “darling” “toy” “girl” “cocksleeve”, mentions of marriage and family.

Genuinely idk what ya’ll want me to tag there.

Normal disclaimers, this is fiction not a resource manual for how to do literally anything in life. This does not represent ANYONE real or fictional. It’s a fantasy AU FFS if you cannot figure that out I cannot help you. Please do not interact if you are under 18. This content is meant for 18+ readers so by continuing below the cut you agree that you are 18+. Also not proofread sorry, I’m a gremlin in a human suit.

Part 1 | Part 2 you might wanna read. i’m not your mom.

For the TW and spoilers I guess? There is a third party who has yn touch him inappropriately without their consent or knowledge. She asks the boys not to do anything about it. They EMPHATICALLY want to do something about it but respect yn’s wishes.

 Hyunjin’s sleepy rustling barely registers in your exhausted body, one of his legs kicking out from under the sheet. The room is lit with rich blues and pinks, calling in the morning light. Sweat sticks to your forearms where they press into his side, a small way to prove to yourself it’s all really happened, it’s all physically real.  Felix is far more wrapped around you, nose and forehead planted in between your shoulder blades, light breaths running down your spine. An arm drapes over your waist, hand slid between your breasts, his knees slotted behind yours. The throb of his cock, perfectly slotted between your cheeks tightens a knot in your stomach. You push back against him, wiggling happily.  Sure enough he responds with a gravely moan, abs flexing as he rolls his hips back at you. His thumb finds your nipple, lazily flicking back and forth over the sensitive nub. Slowly your lower halves slip and slide against each other, still tired from the night prior. Winding each other up little by little. He’s never been as interested in your chest as he is right now. Pinching and pulling and playing with your pebbled nipples, measuring your jittering hips to perfect his slow torture. Your clit throbs as you whine and wiggle your toes to relieve the tension growing in your gut. It does nothing. Felix is a small explosion of a half chuckle.  “Sir?”   “You can use my name if you prefer.” His voice is huskier in the morning, vocal cords still not used to moving.  “Sir, I need it-” your voice bounces as you tap your toe against his shin, pleading.  He plucks his hand from your breast, tracing down your side to the cleft of your ass, pulling apart your cheeks, cold air hitting your cunt, stale cum seeping from you still. Teeth grazing your shoulder, he slides in easily, the whisper of a groan vibrating from his mouth to your arm. With a shift of the covers and a slide of your knee, you're open to the morning light, his cock languidly rubbing against your inner walls.   “See doll, simply ask your future kings, we will provide.”  Neither of you are in a hurry to climax, the carnal need having been spent the night before, drifting between conscious and semi conscious as your eyelids flutter. You think you orgasm, it’s so gentle in comparison to your soul rending affairs it feels like a different beast entirely. A wave of pleasure washes over you like a summer tide lapping at your ankles. Your eyes roll back with a sigh, his fingers lightly circling your clit. “Is this real?” You wonder aloud, full body sunk into his chest.

 “As real as you want it to be.” You nearly jump out of your skin, Hyunjin’s smiling face turned to you, still puffy from sleep, naked and obviously aroused.   “Sir! I’m - sorry, Hyunjin? Sir.” Somehow you sound both panicked and sheepish, stuffed cunt on full display. “I didn’t think-” Your train of thought is interrupted with a harsh thrust, Felix’s cock lodging itself straight into your g-spot.   “Don’t be mad ‘Jinnie, you’ve been awake the whole time, you could’ve joined.” Felix chuckles.  You stare incredulously at Hyunjin, who shrugs with a smile.   “What can I say, darling. I love watching you,” his face softens, hand reaching out to stroke your hair, “and asking for us all by yourself. Such a good girl.”  “Do you want him to join?” Felix purrs in his low bass that makes your eyelids flutter. “As a peace offering.”  “Yes,” you gasp as he pulls out, the sudden emptiness almost uncomfortable.   Felix rolls you to face him, “but I'm feeling a little greedy today, if that’s alright,” he states with a boyish grin, pecking you on the nose before hitching your top leg over his hip.

  Rolling to face him, Felix kisses your nose, taking your top leg over his hip and slotting his cock inside you again. Hyunjin’s weight shifts the mat behind you slightly as he closes in on the two of you, hands roaming your buttocks and low back.   “Our toy has gotten bold,” his breath is as warm as his skin, fanning over the back of your neck. “Darling just relax and let us take care of your every whim,” Hyunjin purrs. “Now that you’ve asked, we can provide.”   Another shift in the bed that you barely notice, Felix’s face buried in your chest as he slowly and sloppily thrusts up into you. The telltale clink of the glass vase of oil uncorking, glugs of the slick liquid sloshing in the container. The press of Hyunjins fingers to your other hole sends a shiver up your spine.  “S-sir?”  “Yes Darling?”  You gulp, “just nervous.” Whining you feel the heat of embarrassment spread across your face.  “Oh darling,” Hyunjin plants a kiss directly between your shoulder blades. Two well oiled fingers slip against you as Felix slows. You can’t help but wiggle back against them. “It was nice last time right? Your kings weren’t wrong were they?”   Your head buzzes with lust, eyelids drooping in the haze. “Sirs were right. Always right.”  “So you’d like to? I need to hear you want this.”   “Please Hyunjin Sir, I want it. Just, slow please.”  A short puff of a chuckle escapes from his nose, “oh darling, of course.” He mutters, a finger slipping past the tight ring of muscle, a protracted moan ripping through the morning air.   “Keep doing that, I think she likes it Hyune.” Felix groans, slowing even further with his thrusts. “I can tell that by your cute little cunt, doll.”  With gentle touches and slow patient progress Hyunjin’s fingers work you open. It’s easy to lean into his sure guidance, letting the two of them work together to adjust the tangle of legs to better present you.   The heat of the sun streaming through the window keeps your skin warm as the three of you lay exposed and unhurried. No words spoken, the space between breaths filling with hushed moans and light giggles. Your world feels like a perfect golden bubble, glinting as it drifts happily along on the early summer breeze.   Soon enough slender fingers are replaced by the blunt tip of Hyunjin’s cock, pressing steadily into the space prepared. Your breath quickens as the pressure stirs your guts, no matter how much he did with his fingers it still was a tight fit. “Deep breaths darling, you taking us both so well. Just a little more, love.” Hyunjin's voice floats dreamily in the sunlight. Felix’s short but strong fingers massaging your hips, indenting your skin as he molds your flesh. “That’s it, good little darling,” Hyunjin groans as his hips meet the cleft of your ass.   “Really full,” you burble, clinging onto Felix in front of you. “‘S good tho’. ‘S nice.” Head swimming you can barely compute thoughts into words. Very much at the mercy of two royals there's no place you’d rather be stuck. The heat and pheromones buzz in your brain and drown out lingering worries and doubts leaving it empty, quickly filled with the sounds of the Prince’s slow labored breaths. Laying on your side you don’t bounce much, instead letting the two men lazily shift your hips back and forth, sliding you between their bodies. When one drags the other pushes and vice versa.

 “I can’t anymore-” Felix whines. “She’s so wet. Fuck she’s squeezing-”  “You can go longer,” Hyunjin grunts. “She’s not done.” Purring in your ear he whispers, “darling, cum for us. Show your Prince’s how good they’ve been to you.” Hands snaking around you to play with your chest, the tickle in your ear has you shaking already.   Felix’s breath catches, strangled in his chest. His hands grip you harshly, “oh-” he mutters as his face open in shock. His cock throbs, pushed up and fit as snugly as possible, cum flooding as your walls spasm. “I’m sorry,” he whines, “cumming.”   Something about his whined apology, the way his eyes slowly blinked open marveling at you like some sort of precious thing he feared he’d disappointed, it flips something in you. Your vision darkens as your whole body clenches, gasping and flooding the man inside of you. Juices practically drench them as you spasm. Teeth bump against your shoulder as you feel Hyunjin’s lips attach, sucking a purple mark into your skin as he folds forward, emptying himself as well, a cascade effect of your release.   Exhaustion overtakes you, fading in and out of consciousness as the two men adjust you and clean you and come back to lay with you. Happy bubble. Shining happy sunlight. Your skins pressed together feel tacky with dried sweat but you don’t mind. And neither do they. They don’t mind the mess and the grime or the work.

 The work.

 Eyebrows furrowing you think about the work that you aren’t doing today. The small chores that stack up to make bigger headaches. You want to lay and bask but the nagging thought won’t leave you alone. The reminder that your absence would be noted. Your legs have never felt heavier as you try to pull yourself down the middle of the resting men so as to not disturb them.   “Stay,” Felix mutters groggily, hugging you tighter momentarily before returning to slumber. Gently you roll him to his back, letting his arm slide off your body and gingerly crawling over the other outstretched on the bed.   As you swing your legs over the edge of the bed you watch your feet dangle over the ornate floors. Calloused from years of standing, they’re workers' feet. A permanent crack in your nail bed that goes unpolished is further proof of this. “I’m sorry for the offense of my trodding but I must make myself scarce,” you think wryly as your toes touch down as lightly as you can muster.  A hand grabs your forearm. “Would you stay if we commanded it?”   “That’s my duty sir,” you say without looking at him.   “Must we always command it?”   With a sigh you turn into him, Hyunjin, a measure of sadness in his eyes. “I wish I could tell you that you didn’t have to command it, sir. I wish I could just stay as you request. I wish I could stay of my own desire.  In my world, a command means everything, sir, and desire nothing.”  He nods, hand trailing down to interlace with your fingers. “And would it be so terrible if I commanded it?” Hyunjin flashes a smile at you   “Not so terrible to me, but you are the Prince of a small kingdom and a host of a castle, so you must think of others.”  Hyunjin flops dramatically backwards onto the mattress, jostling Felix. “Fine. My darling must leave me. I can’t monopolize her time. I see. I understand. If you must.” He whines. “A kiss first. A command. You must kiss me.”   Leaning over you first kiss Felix’s outstretched palm, watching him as he reflexively curls. Then you look at Hyunjin, lips pursed dramatically at you, waiting. “One kiss sir. Exactly as you commanded, are you sure you want that kind of kiss?”  He leans up, hand extending to pull you closer by the back of your neck. Lips locking with his, you both press into the kiss, unwilling to be the first to break.  You chuckle as you leave, tearing a hole in your heart as you close the door.

 No longer new to the routine of the monthly meeting, you’d become familiar with the quirks and habits of the usual attendees. Those who were lucky to live close frequently settled in early while those who lived in the farthest reaches would sprint in just in time for the Princes to sit down from their small talk. As the season progressed your uniform adapted as well, much to their delight. Layers paired down to a simple sweat-wicking chemise, corset, top and knee length skirt. Still plain but lighter during the summer heat. Easier to put on, easier to remove.

 This month was different. You took note of a new member, sitting crooked in his plush chair, chest bare but shoulders covered in a rich velvet cloak. Not the usual fashion of the kingdom or her provinces. Stubble was already pricking his skin and tinting his jawline, his mouth quirked to the side, there was something in his smile that turned your stomach. Not the fluttering flip that the Princes gave you of excitement and anticipation, it was a jittery yank violently downwards of dread.  ”I’d have thought to come to court more frequently had I known you were hiding away treasures as this in this stuffy old castle,” the man comments to the Princes. Felix’s normally cheery smile and bright eyes fading, setting into stone.  ”We’ve made no effort to hide her,” Hyunjin plasters a cold smile to his face, ever the diplomat. “As you know, our kingdom has always had an open door to yours, you only need knock.”  The Princes watch in a tense uneasy silence as you refill the man’s goblet. The only noise that breaks through is the steady stream of dark liquid splashing into the vessel. From this distance you can tell he’s at least two decades your senior, glittering silver streaks flecking through his hair. You can feel his fingertips brushing the backs of your thighs, clammy on your warm skin. He’s careful to go just high enough to meet the hem of your skirts, not high enough to be obvious except to yourself and him. Alert bells ring in your head but you hold firm and focused. The second it fills you bow shortly, just enough to pass as polite, and go to skitter back to the safety of your corner. To hide where you know best.

 But he grabs you by the elbow pulling you back into place. ”How much?” Hyunjin’s vacant smile falters as both Princes stare at the man. ”How much for the slave girl.”  Felix splutters, “she’s a human, she’s not for sale.”  ”Everything has a price my naive boys,” he laughs, turning to you. “How much?” Eyes flitting from your princes to this man, you shake like a leaf. His hands move boldly; traveling the front of your thighs, visible now to the princes. ”I asked, how much? What’s the price for a lick of that sweet little cunt of yours?”  ”Miss,” Felix’s voice booms in the chamber. “Do you want that man to handle you as he is?”  You shake your head swiftly, yanking yourself back from him.  ”The next appendage that so much as brushes against her apron will be lopped off and fed to the pigs,” Hyunjin's voice cuts through, direct to the man’s ears, striking like a snake. The court sits on a knife's edge, teetering precariously, waiting for someone to act. The visitor smirks, slowly lowering his hand to his lap with the shake of his head. “Now can you behave yourself long enough to sort out the new agreements or have you been so enfeebled by your long day’s travel that your brain is soft and you need to be excused to rest?”   The man smiles, eyes cold, “little princes, all of this bluster is not necessary. It was a simple question, that is all. We can proceed as planned.”

 No matter how hard you try you can’t escape the feeling of being watched. His lingering gaze torments you in your corner. You had trained years and years to be as invisible as possible and now you were so clearly not. Not just to the Princes, but to others. Others whose attention you didn’t want. You’d been good at it too, making yourself small and silent and unseen, or you’d thought. Now you weren’t so sure.  Your leg bounces nervously. Hyunjin, you notice, seems particularly distracted by the visitor, back stiff and straight, eyes darting around the room. It’s difficult to tell exactly what the Princes were saying but by body language Hyunjin is on edge, clearly pressing the agenda forward at a rapid pace. The visitor sips his wine leisurely, staring. Making a show of the empty cup as his hand jangles it around, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Hyunjin almost breaks then, jaw tensing as you approach the man. The rest of the visitors and advisors don’t notice as you slip between the seats with your vase.   “These big mean boys keep you locked away?” His voice turns your stomach sour. “It’s okay you can tell me. Just whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”  You shake your head in a small tight back and forth, “no. My state is well, thank you.”  The man’s nostrils flare. “Tell me girl, have you ever seen such riches as these?” His hand dives into the deep pocket of his velvet overcoat, pulling from it a wad of bills and tossing them on the table. “Can you even comprehend the amount of wealth I have?”  “No,” you whisper. “Please sir, is this all you require? I don’t want to disturb the meeting.”  Slowly heads and eyes are turning to you as you stand, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the seated table. What happens next happens in slow motion. You watch as the man’s hand reaches forward to grab the goblet but instead of grasping the stem, he punches it out from underneath, tipping his glass towards himself, sending the contents spilling forward onto his lap. Without thinking you grab a napkin and begin to dab at the bubbles of liquid before they absorb fully into a variety of thick, plush, fabrics. It was the training, the years of muscle memory to protect the image of the court, to care for the guests of the kingdom, to remedy any ills that could potentially fall on your head, that kicked into gear. His lecherous smirk doesn’t even register fully until his low gruff chuckle passes by your ear.  “It’s okay everyone, just a small accident,” he waves to the hushed table to continue their discussions. Then he turns to you, voice low enough for only you to hear, “such an eager little wench. Take some change for your troubles,” his hand covers yours, big and rough, taking the napkin from you and gesturing towards the stack of money on the table. “See how your state likes that.”  You feel something flex below your fingers. Wrenching your hand away and gathering it to your chest with the other, you feel sick. You don’t want to know what you felt. The man gathers the money and slides it into the front of your apron with the same lascivious smile plastered on his face.   “There you go, girl, for doing such a good job.”

  Lips cemented shut for fear of the nausea worming in your gut becoming something more, you sit back at your stool and pray. This room had been a sight of many unreal feeling events but this was something else. Front teeth biting the inside of your lip you fight the tears welling in your eyes. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, the Princes, radiant as ever at the front of the room. Instead your eyes search the room for any excuse to leave first, break protocols and abandon your position, any emergency that needs immediate attention would do.   But nothing appears. For the rest of the meeting there are no hiccups, not that there ever were. The rest of the castle knew just how important this meeting was and acted accordingly like a well oiled machine, practiced and precise. Except for you. No amount of oil could make up for the misshapen way you felt. No amount of elbow grease or pressure could fix it. Nothing had made you more certain of that than this. The outline of the wad of bills in your white linen apron reminds you of your place. Another person would’ve found a better way out of it, or wouldn’t be in this position to begin with. Your body holds itself so stiffly you start to vibrate, imperceptible to everyone but yourself.

 The meeting wraps up, advisors slowly meander past your post, some lost in deep discussion, others give you small nods of thanks until few remain. You steal yourself, waiting for the moment you know is coming. Eyes to the floor you can still feel him standing slowly, footsteps heavy and elongated, slowly making his way, server in tow, to your stool. You can hear him take a breath to speak as a third pair of footsteps intercedes.  “If you have a request, allow me to personally attend to it.”   An angel stands with his back to you, separating the man from your line of sight. Your angel, swooping in to save you. Prince Felix, unmistakable from his wide shoulders and small waist. He walks perpendicular to the man, continuing to block you from him as he corrects course to the door. He’s caught and by the Prince no less. Though you can’t see him you know he can’t act without causing more trouble than you’re worth.  “Ah well you see my clothes are still a bit damp and-”   “-and I will have an outfit more befitting the climate sent to your room where you can undress and bathe yourself in privacy.”   Their voices grow faint as Felix walks with him out the door and into the hall, leaving no room for arguing. Finally the room is quiet, your eyes search for Hyunjin who is uncharacteristically missing. So you clean. Gathering glasses and plates and papers. Separating and stacking. Carefully placing onto trays and those trays onto the cart. Finally carting the dishes into the small auxiliary kitchen, the opposite direction of the way you normally leave with the Princes. Pushing the door open with your back and pulling the cart with you over the threshold, the happy sound of water sloshing into the large basin of the sink greets your ears.

 “How much did he give you,” the water turns off abruptly, before you have a chance to turn. The tone of his voice could cut glass like butter. You drop into a low curtsey out of shock.  “Prince Hyunjin sir! Why-where-here?”  “How much did he give you?” Hyunjin’s shoulders hunch up to his ears as his palms press into the lip of the sink, biceps flexed and knuckles white.   “I don’t- I didn’t count. I didn’t want to touch it. I couldn’t, sir i could never, I would never-”  He whips around, hands still damp, he reaches into your apron pocket and tosses the bills onto the small prep table in the corner. “Count them. Count them and he’ll get as many lashes.”  You gasp. “Sir, no. I can’t. Lashes? For what?”  “He insulted you. Therefore he insulted me. Therefore he insulted the kingdom and should be punished accordingly.”   “Sir. No.” Your stomach flips as you shrink into yourself. “Not me. Not me at all. I’m not worth the incident.”   His eyes look wild with anger. You wish more than anything you could evaporate under the heat of his fury. “Why not? You’re a human. You have dignity.”  “To a powerful man like that, I’m nothing. It’s his right.” Hyunjin’s words have pushed you back, thighs and palms holding the small table behind you as he stalks forward.  “Not here. Not in this Kingdom. Not in my Kingdom. Is that what we are to you? Your Princes are just powerful men exercising their right?”   “No! Sir-”   “Stop calling me that. We aren’t in court or the bedroom.”  “Hyunjin.” It isn’t you who says it. Mouth ready and open to heed his request, instead Felix, at the doorway, speaks his brother’s name sternly.  “You’re scaring her. Look at how small she’s made herself. If she doesn’t want us to do anything, we can’t do anything.”   Felix is right, you’ve curled reflexively around your middle as best you can, body naturally protecting your vital parts. With a gulp a flood of tears spill silently to your cheeks.  “He tricked her, Felix.” Hyunjin's full attention turns to him. Your breath stays held as you watch their showdown. “He tricked her into touching him. Then he tried to pay her for it. Tried to take her away from us. It was bad enough when he did it to our faces but to try to coerce her during court? Assault her? As though we don’t take care of our people. It was an insult to her autonomy. It was an insult to our authority!”   Felix doesn’t budge in the face of his tirade, resolute.“Take a walk, cool off. It’s equally her right to ask us not to interfere.”   Hyunjin opens his mouth to fight but Felix heads him off.   “As you are so concerned with her rights, you agree, it’s her right to ask us to not interfere.”  His mouth flaps open and closed soundlessly. For a second you think maybe he’s going to haul off and punch Felix. Instead he pushes past him into the hallway, not missing the opportunity to knock shoulders fiercely. You can hear his frustration echoing down the hall, exasperated groans and angered shouts rattling the stones of the foundation.

 If a black hole appeared and sucked you into it in a violent vortex of wind you wouldn’t be surprised. You’d be thankful for the quick and certain death at the hands of a celestial entity that was not made of flesh and bone and blood. Face still streaked with tears your body responds with automatic protocol. Most painfully, despite it all, dishes must be done, time stops for no one, not even powerful men. And so you start cleaning, soapy water still warm from Hyunjin’s washing. Each glass, used or not, gets carefully dipped and swirled around. The silverware clatters to the bottom to soak in the suds. There’s a calmness in the rhythm of it. Reach for the glass, grab the stem, dip the goblet, swish the soapy water, rinse with new water, place upside down to drain, repeat. Reach, grab, dip, swish, rinse, place, repeat.   “He means well, you know. It’s just seldom that anyone asks us to not do anything,” Felix sighs. His shoulder touches yours as he hunches over the sink with you, grabbing a glass for himself and following your lead.  “Please,” you whisper barely audible above the soothing sound of the water, “you really shouldn’t-”  “I’m just a Prince, I’m not totally and completely incapable of household chores. Besides, our Hyunjin is not the only one who hates to sit on the sidelines.”   Tears bubble again, you’re not sure why. You don’t fight him about it, instead leaning into him as the two of you work to clear the pile. He doesn’t remark on your crying, softly humming as he works. You almost feel like a normal couple, not a Prince and a member of his housestaff. Slowly your head leans over onto his shoulder, his long blonde hair tickling your ear.   With two people the remainder of the cart is cleared quickly, which you are thankful for. Pure emotional exhaustion fatigues your brain. You hardly notice how much weight you’re lending to Felix until he shrugs, your head bobbing with him. He’s midway through wiping his hands on his trousers, normally you’d be horrified to see the dirty dishwater soak into the richly dyed fabric but now you simply offer your apron to him.   “You’re tired,” Felix softly smiles. “May I?” His waterlogged thumb wipes the dried tears at the bottom of your jawline. You nod into his palm. The small gesture has tears welling at your lash line again. You love his care, you love his smile, you love him so much it hurts and catches in your chest. Felix tuts. “I only want tears if they’re from pleasure.”  “Then make it so,” you sniff. “Make them happy. Make me happy.” Your voice trembles and threatens to crack. Through watery vision you stare fiercely into his eyes.  His expression looking back at you is so soft in contrast, eyes kind but troubled. He chuckles, “quite the demand. I’m only a Prince but I'll see what I can do.”

 The moment you feel the helplessness threaten to collapse inside of you his lips catch yours. Wet and messy your lips, teeth, and tongues clash against each other as if by force you could express the sincerity of your feelings.  “I love you, my doll,” Felix manages to growl into your open mouth. Hips pinning yours to the counter you pant to catch your breath even for a moment. It smells like soap and skin and sunshine as he covers your face with small pecks. “If my love alone could protect you, you’d have no stronger shelter.”  “But it can’t Sir-” his lips dip down the column of your throat, a fresh hot wave of arousal traveling down your spine with a shudder.  “And you know this, how? How many Princes have loved you like I?” He holds you just far enough away so you can see the sparkle of his eyes.  “None.”  “Then you don’t know for sure that it can’t.”  “But it’s not--!”  “Then join me in pretend,” he kisses your warm cheek. “What use is logic and reason if all it does is make you sad? Just for now, just me.”   With a pointed nip at your neck he forces a moan from you. It’s difficult for your rational side to escape how overwhelmingly good it feels to be with him, how eagerly he kisses every inch of skin, how consumed he seems by you, his slight of hand tricks that seem to magic you into a more undressed state. In the warmth of his embrace feelings pool and flow over, drowning that small voice that tells you to be critical. One hand slipping up your skirt, he kneads the crease between your ass and thigh, fingers slowly working their way towards your entrance. The other pulls hastily at your bodice strings, not bothering to fully unlace anything that didn’t need it. He hitches your leg up over his hip, his knee pressing into the cupboards below the sink, arm looping around your thigh to support you.   “Britches, undo them, now” he pants as he leans the two of you back. His length throbs with your swollen cunt.   Still nowhere near as deft with his toggles as he was with your ties, your hands fumble over the buttons confining him within the cotton panel. Each slip of a button from its hole increases the heat of anticipation in your gut, as though this were the first time you’d seen him. The swollen tip of his thick length poking over the draped fabric has you giddy, hand automatically migrating to circle it.  “Did I say you could touch?” His face scrunches, fighting an airy whine.   Fingers of one hand still fumbling with buttons while the thumb of the other glosses the beaded precum over the spongy head you watch him struggle to keep his strict facade. “Please?”   With a deep breath he forces the air from his lungs in one guttural groan, “I can’t refuse my doll now can I? Not when you ask so sweetly. Not when you’re practically dripping on me.”  “I need you, please, sir, please,” his cock nearly fully out, a few buttons separating you from him. “How many buttons do you even need,” you grumble.   “Fuck the fucking buttons,” Felix perches you on the edge of the sink, teetering precariously as he hastily pulls the breaches the rest of the way down, shirt completely untucking. Your skirts get shoved up around your waist before he pulls you to him, cock searching blindly beneath the flood of fabric for your core. Catching on the muscle, with a sudden prod his blunt head slips past.  You wince and yelp, “Felix!”   Brushing your flyaways back he kisses you, “okay? You okay? I’m so sorry usually we- I know I- I want to take my time love but-”  “I’m fine, just sudden, just big,” you bite your lip and try to breathe. Felix holds you closer to steady the two of you, rocking the rest of his length up as you slowly sink down, all the while murmuring praise against your throat.  You feel delirious as his full length fills you, clit grinding against the caught mixture of fabrics of his shirt and your skirt. “Feels so good.” Your skin buzzes with endorphins. “Felix you feel so good.” A sob catches.  “Pretty doll, why are you crying?” He kisses your trembling shoulders. Bouncing you up on his hips, speared on his cock he coaxes the tears free with each percussive measured thrust.  “Hap-py, real-ly hap-py,” you burble, words broken up by air forced from your lungs. “Fu-ull and ha-ppy.”   His arms add to the thrusting, pulling you down faster than gravity onto him. Usually one to reply, Felix pours his full focus into pummeling your cunt, your single leg barely adding support as you wobble on your tippy toe. The leg held on his hip tensing and shaking. Fingers digging into his shoulder blades and wrinkling his shirt you cum. He seems to reveal in the feeling of your cunt working him, kissing you with more fervor as it pulses around him, happy to clench around something so thick. Eyelids fluttering and eyes rolling you’re  Gulping air and overstimulated he doesn’t let up, instead hammering into you as he chases his high. Every ounce of strength you can muster is diverted to withstanding the smack of his hipbones against your ass. His hips stutter and pace slows, you can hear his heart; a comforting fluttering thudding part of him that reminds you that you’re both just flesh and blood and emotions in squishy little bodies. The part of him you like most maybe, the soft tender man that lives in the shell of a mighty ordained being. You don’t even realize you are whimpering in his ear until you hear the door click and shift squeakily on its hinges. You duck your head into his chest, trying to curl completely into his shadow.  “Get. OUT.” Felix practically roars, mid climax and not waiting on formalities. The door slams shut quickly before you have a chance to peek over your lover's shoulder. He looks more lion-like than he’d ever, halo of golden hair wild and mane like, panting and hunched over you like prey he’d feasted on.   “Do you think-” you gulp and pant.   “No. If anything they saw my ass.”   “What if-”   “Then we handle it. Together.”

 Hair fixed, clothes smoothed and righted, you head back to your room in the soft glow of the hallway. The only reminder of your day is the slow trickle of cum streaking your thighs. You suppose all lovers do this to some extent, waddle their way to their own beds until they’re married. Was there even a chance of that with him, with them? Or was the inevitable end of your tryst a quiet disappearance into wider society. Standing in the full ground level kitchen you stir your herbal concoction. Queen Anne’s Lace, willow, pennyroyal, myrrh, and rue. A mash of plant parts from roots to seeds all put together, a well-tread recipe at this point, still horribly bitter to swallow and best chugged when cool. It could be worse, for you all that happened was light bleeding and cramping. You’d heard for some the potion made them bedridden for days. It was inconspicuous as long as you refilled what you’d taken from the kitchen garden.  Still you can’t help your burning curiosity as to who may have seen you or what may be said. Taking extra hours in the kitchen, assisting with the laundry, really adding any of the known gossip spots to your routine of chores. Strangely nothing. Not a peep of anyone, much less a Prince, using the auxiliary kitchen for auxiliary activities. You’d at least expected speculative whispers of who the man could’ve been. In particular the laundry day gossip had revolved around one of the stablehands' sexual conquests, questions of paternity of a noble woman’s eldest child, and whatever was happening at the far away chantry. So maybe a consensual romp in a kitchen wasn’t interesting enough without hints at who it might be. As an upside your extra hours had grown your estimation in your matron’s eyes, always pleased to see your head down, nose buried in work, keeping yourself out of trouble.  “I’d had my doubts some days,” you overheard her speaking with the head of the staff, “but she’s really taken to work like flies to honey.”   But flies who feed themselves fat on honey stick and drown.

 Normally beds were made in pairs but your partner was sick in bed that day. Doubled over with cramps she was in no state to lift mats and shake out duvets with you.  “Really I can-” she sat on the edge of her small cot, one arm wrapped around her stomach, shoulders hunched over. Practically shaking with pain, you carefully helped her back down.  “It’s fine, I’ll make up for the both of us.”   Face contorted in pain she nods. “Please, ask anything of me and I’ll help you.”  “It‘s fine,” you assure her, “it’ll be better than nothing.”  “Really, I refuse to be a burden. If you ever-” an anguished clench of her jaw interrupts the thought process. Refilling her water jug and placing it in arms reach, you leave her small room. Some day you may have to use that offer but for now you had to get going.  The work wasn’t easy or efficient but it was better done alone than not at all and better alone than dragging your friend around like a ball and chain. Carefully tucking opposing diagonal corners of the bottom sheet in before rotating and attending to the other pair, you work methodically through the upper guest rooms. In the summer heat the heavy shades are draw and rooms dark to preserve what cool night air you could. Still the heavy work left you panting and sweaty, hair frizzing in different wild directions. The thin layer of dried sweat reactivated by new beads as you progress through the rooms.  You sit on the edge of a half made bed to catch your breath. Limbs starting to hurt and drag you focus on the promise of a nice cool bath at the end of the day. You think about how the water would prickle against your overheated skin, numbing as you soak the pain of the day away. The air wicking the droplets off your exposed parts and cooling you further. Eyes closed the power of suggestion works it’s magic to refresh you even now.

 “Look at this darling present left all alone,” Hyunjin’s voice calls in a cheerful sing song as he closes the door behind him, leaving the two of you in near darkness.  Your heart beats wildly. “Prince Hyunjin, your royal highness?” You respond into the black.  A sigh from behind you has you spin on the top sheet. “Are we so unfamiliar even now?” You wish you could see his expression, but he sounds almost sad. “My darling, my gift, my love, I’m sorry.” The bed bends in behind you, his voice drawing nearer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  “Can I speak honestly?” You mutter sheepishly.  “Of course darling. Always. Forever.” You gulp down to ease the clench of your throat, “our worlds are so different. Yes they intersect but there are parts of mine that you’ll never understand and parts of yours I’ll never be privy to.”   “I-we know. But we-”   “Please. I need to finish before I regret this,” you take another breath, silence settling across the two of you. “I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know what I am to you. Either of you. And you can’t protect me from what may come of whatever we are. And I don’t want what may happen to hurt you. And no matter what we do you are who you are and I am who I am and we just- and, and, and-” you search for the words to express the depths of the helplessness you feel. Instead a sob rips the sudden silence apart at the seams.  “Oh my pretty darling, may I-” you feel him inch closer. You nod wordlessly, he doesn’t need to complete the request. You’re not even sure he can see you but your throat is so tight you can’t even squeak out a yes so you have to hope he can feel the slight bounce of the bed. Like a ray of god shining through the break in the curtains a beam of sun illuminates a sliver of bed. It hits his arm first, muscular and bare. As he leans towards you the strip travels his face, the area around his lips looks red and puffy, his nose too. The slight glimmer of his cheek tells you he’s been crying. Shoulder dipping as the weight of his cheek pours over it your head naturally falls onto his.  “Have you thought about country life?” His question trails into the dark nothingness. “I think about it a lot. Taking a cart and a horse and a wife onto some unsettled land. I’d still be a king even then. Just of a much smaller domain.”   “You would. And would you rule over your wife then? And children?”  “And cows and chickens too, and any of their babies,” he chuckles wryly. “Why? Would it bother you?”   You sigh and shrug him from your shoulder, collapsing back into the half made bed. “I don’t know, my lord, I think I’d like to be a partner in a marriage more than a subject.”  “My lord? You’ve gotten so cheeky,” he says with a swat to your thigh.   “Sir. Prince. His royal highness-”  Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh, a burst of air hitting you as he collapses backwards on the bed. The air itself is hot. Laying there in silence you feel his fingertips brush the back of your hand lightly, asking for permission from you.  “Hyunjin.”  “Darling?”  “If that’s what you want-”  He grips your hand so tightly it stops you. “You know what my father -our- Felix and my father said when Felix joined our family? The decree?”   Your heart pounds out of your chest. In all your years within the castle no one dared to broach the subject to the point where you could’ve sworn it was a punishable offense. You of course were too young to remember those years clearly, shortly after the passing of the sister queen and king to your land. Not related by blood but of bonds much deeper. “Something about no more queens to follow but I thought-”  “None. We may have heirs but neither Felix nor myself is promised a queen. Nor can we make a person a queen. No more Queens.”   He’s clearly eager but you don’t quite follow. “So if you marry…” your words trail slowly, waiting for him to finish your thought.   “They would be our partner. But nothing to the land. Only ours. Not a subject nor royalty. Just ours.” His hand shakes yours, he’s either excited or scared and you aren’t quite sure, even with your eyes adjusted to the dark.  You gulp, “but surely if they already were a princess or a queen…”  “They lose all status. Making us as princes, virtually worthless to their kingdoms.”   You’re not sure exactly what he is saying or why he is saying it to you now or what it means for any of the litany of worries you’d unleashed only minutes earlier. Pressing your lips together you try to follow his line of thought.   “Darling, I will die if I have to spell it out,” he sighs, exasperated.   You remain silent. The mattress tremors with the shifting of his anxiety.   “We’re cursed Princes. A death to Princesses and useless to those seeking to increase their social capital. Please. Think.” He rolls so that his slight frame leans over you, eyes staring directly down into yours for the first time since the incident. “What do you want from us? What do you want most of all from this relationship? If it’s Queenship, we cannot grant this. If it’s power, we cannot guarantee it.”

 Hardly breathing or maybe breathing too much, you can’t decide between the two, the tension holds invisible in the air, buoyed by the humidity. Gulping hard you watch him watch you. Study you. Eyes flitting over your features searching for your answer.   “Love.” You blurt, cracking under his intensity. “Care. You. Both of you.”   Hyunjin leans over, eyes crossing as he closes in on you, his hair curtaining down and tickling your cheeks. Slowly he tilts to the side, lips meeting your cheek. “Good,” he whispers, lips tickling the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through your spine.   Sweat droplets travel down your body soon followed by his hands, carefully stripping you. As Hyunjin works to undo the various ties you realize his hands are shaking ever so slightly. It was always Felix helping you from your garments, he was faster, more sure. Hyunjin was more cautious, as though he could rip your bodice from your body with the wrong flick of his wrist. The moments between your breaths the world feels still. You can hear him breathing too, holding for a moment as he fully inhales and again as his lungs empty, deep slow breaths.  “Sorry if I-” you mutter a half hearted apology.   “Sorry? For?”   “I’m sweaty. I probably smell. I’ve been cleaning all day-”   Interlocking his fingers with yours he presses another kiss to your cheek.  “It’s hot. You’re hot. That’s all.” Releasing your hand he slips down the outside of your thigh, tracing your outline on the covers.   “It’ll get on the bed,” you giggle as his fingers run across your skin, tickling all the way.   “And?” His voice is cocky as you spread your legs easily at the mere press of his knee.   “I just made it. It’s a waste.”  “If you sleep here, is it a waste?” Hips slotting between your thighs, warm skin to warm skin, still the upwards sweep of his fingertips against your shoulder leaves a wake of goosebumps on your body.  “I can’t sleep here I-”  “If we sleep here?” Hyunjin quickly interjects. Heavy and hot his erection lays waiting on your belly, pulsing as want courses through his veins. “Together. You’ll sleep here with me? Then it won’t be a waste.”  “Hyunjin, we have beds. Our own-”  “Then the floor.” He kisses you hurriedly, “I want to have you. Now.”  Another day of half work. You sigh. Heart and head tugging you in opposite directions again. Kissing the tops of your knees he waits attentively for you. “Hyunjin…the floor?”  “Anywhere. Anything. Let me take care of you.” The kisses move down your inner thighs, slowly enough that you could stop him if you wanted. “The castle won’t fall apart if a few beds are less than perfect, darling, trust me.” Hyunjin gazes up at you, plush lips hovering above your mound, hair curtaining down to you. He looks like a lion hunched over downed prey. To be wanted so desperately, so recklessly, excites you, sending shivers coursing through your body like white hot fire.  “Sir?” Your voice shakes in anticipation. “May I touch you?”  A short burst of hair escapes his nose, mouth closing and lips quirking into a small smile. “Darling, whatever you want from me. Whatever you need from me. Take it.”

 Fingers threading through his hair, pushing it back, your gazes lock as he lowers to kiss your cunt. A spark seemingly from his lips sends tingles to the base of your spine. Tongue dipping between your folds his breath fans across you. Your grip on his hair tightens as you moan, tugging as he tries to dive deeper. The intrusion of his tongue probing has you squirming and squealing.  “Darling?” He emerges, chin shiny. “Are you okay?”   You both pant, staring. “I’m sweaty…it can’t be…I’m sorry.”   “If you weren't delicious I wouldn’t, darling. I am a Prince after all.” Licking his lips, his eyes narrow, “if it’s alright with you, I’d like to eat what’s mine.” He nips your inner thigh, leaving a red mark of his presence. Pressed into the mattress his hands hold your trembling thighs apart. He feasts as though you’ve greatly offended him by suggesting any part of you was not the perfect fit for him, growls sending pleasant vibrations into your heat. It’s sloppy and wet as his tongue works to map every fold of your cunt. Giggling and shrieking and moaning your hips buck with abandon against him until you’re both left a mess of spit and slick.   Finally you tug at his hair to pull him to you, eyes unable to focus, fingers twitching. Lips locking with his in a messy expression of lust you can taste yourself on him, not unpleasant as you’d feared. A mix of salty sweat and natural sweet musk.  “Ride me.” Hyunjin tumbles backwards, pulling you over him. His eyes rake over you, “want to watch you take me. You look so beautiful. Let me watch you.”   Quaking like a newborn fawn you straddle his hips, he looks gorgeous with his arms up, cradling his head forward. You lower your palm to his chest to steady yourself and reach between your thighs to position him. The muscles in your legs burn as you slowly take him in, inch by inch.  “Gorgeous,” he says as you finally steady on top of him. “Bounce for me darling, I think you can take just a little more.” Hyunjin thrusts upwards, jostling you.  Your eyebrows shoot up as he slides just a little deeper, just enough to kiss your cervix, stirring in your gut. “Ha-Hyunjin!” Yelping and moaning as he fucks upwards again, letting gravity push him into you. Craning back with your chest to the sky, your mouth lolls open. Primal need overtakes you as you grind back against him.  “That’s it,” he coaxes, “does that feel good darling? Tell me how good I feel.”  A shiver runs through you, a hunger that’s indescribable. The ache of absolute need opens the pit of your stomach. A thirst that no water could possibly satiate coats your throat and dries your mouth. “Hyun-hyun-sir,” you babble, “I’m-I need to use you. I’m sorry it feels so good. I feel so good.” Repeating yourself over and over you steadily grind back and forth in time to your own chants. His hands join your hips, helping hold you to him, soft murmured praises fill the fuzz between your ears. Your pace increases steadily as the want grows, body burning and exhausted but driven by the promise of release. The wave of pleasure hits suddenly, the swell rocketing you forward, collapsing to his chest as you shake. The resistance of his cock filling you as your walls clench around him has your vision swimming even in the darkness of your closed eyelids. Holding your hips he continues the slow grind through your orgasm, not enough to push you over the edge again but enough to leave you in a state of bliss.  Hyunjin smothers your shoulder in kisses, hands running up and down your body. “You work so hard,” he says with extra honey to his tone, “you did so well.” He half scoops and half rolls you onto your back again. “Since you used me for your pleasure, it’s only fair I do the same, right? What do you say, darling?”   “Please, sir,” you mewl, senses lost as your minds float amongst the clouds. “I want nothing more than to be of service.”  “Good,” he growls as he practically picks your hips up and stacks them, folding you almost in half. Nothing could prepare you for the vigor with which he fucks down into you. The angle leaves you open and vulnerable, lungs sandwiched in on themselves so you can only manage half breaths. Your legs hang half over you uselessly wobbling even with the support of Hyunjin’s torso and shoulders. The first slam of his cock rams him right into your gspot, nearly knocking the wind from you. Mouth gaping in a wordless scream as his hips pummel against your ass, your body tenses and braces itself as best it can for the onslaught. Your hands search for anything to stabilize, finally reaching up to the headboard just before the top of your head makes contact. Blurry above you Hyunjin’s chest is red and coated in a thin layer of sweat, droplets slowly saturating his blonde locks.   Hyunjin pauses, resting his head on the headboard, panting. “No matter how much we fuck you, you’re still so tight. Our darling.” He thrusts pointedly again, smiling as you squirm and squeal, speared by him. “Such a good cocksleeve.” Another thrust that you can feel tickling the inside of your belly button, crying out again. His thumb brushes against your clit as you whine pathetically below him. “Going to cum again, darling?” Hyunjin teases.  “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you repeat, only able to find one word at a time.  “Want me to cum in you? Fill you up like the good darling you are?”  “Yes,” you continue to chant like a stuck cuckoo clock.   Hyunjins thumb rubs more insistently as he slowly drive into you, both sliding easily with the natural lubrication. Inhuman noises gurgle up from your lungs although you are unable to hear them. The rush of dizzying pleasure fills your ears and eyes as your entire body bears down on the man fucking into you with abandon. As you cum his hand retreats, grasping your hips to better steady them for him to pull up as he plunges down. The room evaporates as you feel him spilling into you with a whine of his own. Making true of his word to fill you, a mix of your juices leaking out around him as he slowly presses himself tight to you, leaning to kiss your forehead gently.  Small orgasmic aftershocks follow you both, panting and sweating in the dark. Every time he shifts you whine and clench around him, forcing whats left from his withering cock deep into you with a groan. Slowly unfurling, your tendons burn as they release from their uncomfortable position. Hyunjin continues to mouth and nuzzle at your neck and shoulder gently, almost appreciatively.  “When we marry,” he whispers, “we’ll keep you stuffed full just like this. All the time. Our darling partner. Our favorite toy. Our love.”  “We?”   Hyunjin laughs, “didn’t the matron teach you? The Princes get gifts in equal pairs accepting where there is only one, which then will be shared. And you are the only one.”

Thank you all for all the love this unintended series has gotten! I really hope you don’t mind as I take a break to write some other things. Upcoming ideas include an angsty as fuck changbin oneshot, a smutty hongjoong best friend oneshot, and a semi-professional dom!san series. As always i respond well to requests so folks who are 18+ my asks are open. I have some basic rules (18+, i reserve the right to say naaaah) so please don’t be shy. I AM actually on here even though i’m bad at it.

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 3 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

"Myaah, keep going!"

"Non, chat. You no longer need to be brushed. Vil, how is Yuu's hair coming along?"

Vil sighs. I've noticed he does that a lot. "Not as well as I thought, Rook. Even though the top layer was absurdly thick, the lower layers don't look much better. This is going to take longer than I expected."

I look up and into the mirror in front of me. Vil has cut my hair short, but the process of detangling the remaining mat of hair has caused the detangled hair to be noticeably longer than what's still a total mess. I'd say the hair he's worked through is about 4 inches, just long enough to cover my ears.

"Say, Monseur Mystery, how did you guess Monseur Chat's name?"

"Well..." I hesitate. Even now, the thoughts of his death still hurt. "When I was living in my world, I found a cat. He was my only friend. He was an alley cat, but chubby- not in a concerning or limiting way, just in a cute way- and he was grey with a large patch of white fur on his front, and his tail faded into black at the end, and... he had polydactly. I think that's what it's called, at least. Do you guys know what that is?"

"Nope!" Grim's reply is cheerful, like an island of comfort in a sea of mourning.

"Well, it's a condition where your limbs split off into multiple limbs. So, a two-tipped finger or extra toe or something. Well, my cat had it on the end of his tail. It looked, " I pause, reaching my hand toward Grim and trying, failing, to hold back tears. "Into three. A trident tail, just like this." I'm holding his tail in my hand now, careful, like he might break just as my voice is doing now. I can hardly speak through the lump in my throat, but I can speak.

"A-and that cat's name was Grim. And he was hit by a car when he was eight, and I've never been the same." I'm crying now, my eyes reduced to floodgates and my voice to a wreck. Vil is hugging me, his arms bringing some sense of safe to me, but that sense of safe pales in comparison to the comfort of holding Grim in my arms. His fur is soft, much softer now that he's been brushed, and Rook has joined the hug.

We stay there, just like that, for what feels like forever. Vil's arms are strong around me, as are Rook's, and I'm holding Grim again, and I don't want to lose him again. I can't. I barely survived the first time; I can't survive a second. The guilt would kill me.

"I guessed his name, too. I didn't know how. It just felt right. But... Yuu, you kind of remind me of someone. Another human. He fed me in my dreams, and his name was Yuu, and we were great friends, but one day he just stopped showing up. I never saw him again." Grim's previously sad face brightens a little, like a tea candle with just enough air to burn. "You look a lot like him, but older. Maybe... maybe he was you."

The tears come back. I let them. This time, they're happy tears, and Grim is crying them, too. Vil allows a few more minutes to pass, just like that, before he lets go and resumes his task of unmatting the other half of my hair. Rook pulls away, too, and waves his magic pen.

A tape measure, like you see tailors using in movies, appears in the air in front of him for him to wrap around my waist with skillful hands. Soon, he's removed the tape measure from my waist in favor of wraping it around my chest, and then my arms, and then Vil tells him off for doing something unnecessary.

I laugh. "Say, Monseur Mystery, have you tried to use magic since you arrived?"

I ponder. "Not really."

Rook chuckles. "Facinating."

"Are you okay with others being let into the room, Yuu?" Vil's voice is soft and soothing. I'm a little jealous, but who cares?

"Go right ahead." The lump in my throat is gone now that Grim is purring happily in my arms, just enjoying the sensation of being pet. Rook leaves the room- still holding his tape measure, I notice- and the door shuts behind him. Surprisingly, I don't hear his footsteps as he walks away, even before the door is closed and blocking my view.

Less than a minute later, the door opens again, revealing Rook, Korrak, and Korrak's familiar, whose name I do not yet know. Rook waves his pen, cleaning the cat brush with magic, and starts brushing the strange oppossum as he brushed Grim.

"Hey, what's your name? I'm Grim!"

"Call me Mandible."

Well, I guess I have a name to go with both of my roommates now. Unlike Grim, Mandible needs only a few minutes of brushing before his fur is even and soft, at which point Rook measures him, waves his pen, and voilá: five small stacks of clothing appear on the counter.

"What are those?" Mandible is already poking at the piles by the time he thinks to ask. I wasn't expecting Mandible to be more talkative than Korrak, but I guess Grim and I are no better.

"Uniforms! The white one is a lab coat for alchemy, the violet one is a dorm uniform, the one next to the lab coat is a PE uniform, the one next to the dorm uniform is a school uniform, and the one in between the dorm clothes and lab coat are some ceremonial robes. All are sized exactly for Monseur Opossum, of course." Rook looks quite proud of himself.

"Myaah, neato! Do I get some?"

"But of course, Monseur Chat! If you'll allow me a moment..." Rook starts measuring Grim just like he did with Mandible, and Vil lets out a triumphant "Hah!"

"Finally conquered my hair?"

"Not entirely, but I'm done with the hard part." With this, Vil pulls out a brush- not a cat brush, just a regular human brush- and starts running it through my hair in a soothing rhythm. Tired from the short day's events, I allow it to lull me to sleep.

[standbowed]

It's only after she's gone and called out to Kakyoin already, steps hastening to reach his side, that it occurs to Hachi that he might be busy. Naturally, her brain--ever the go-getter in the realm of overthinking--is quick to catch up, prompting her fretful question--it gives the man an out if he's in no mood to deal with Hachi's chattiness. Because really, what if Kakyoin doesn't want company? What if this is his first moment all day to himself and she's disrupting it? What if when he told her to come talk to him anytime, he was just being nice? What if--

Oh, he's replied.

"Euhh huh? Me? Really?" Hachi blinks, lifting an index finger to gesture between herself and him with a mildly bewildered expression. Her steps stumble for a moment, the heel of one shoe and the toe of her other briefly colliding before she corrects it with a quiet 'oop'. She clears her throat, a touch embarrassed, and fiddles with a few wayward keychains hanging from her school bag as he speaks, asking after her stand. Oh! Right. They'd talked about that the last time.

"Ummmm--it's going good, I think! Actually, I found out recently that one of my neighbours has one of those, ah…" She pauses here, hands gesturing about as she tries to recall the exact name. She outlines a vaguely upside-down L-shape with one hand, the thumb of her other hand jutting out to make a few button-pushing motions. Both hands then convene to make--some kind of jagged wave-like motion? She's lost the plot on this one fast--oh! She snaps her fingers triumphantly, her next step a bit bouncier. "Those speed-reader radar guns, you know? And he was nice enough to lend it to me, when I asked. Which reminds me, I said I'd make him some coffee cake as thanks, I need to drop that off--ack, but that's not what we're talking about right now…"

She taps at the side of her head, grimacing, then shakes her head. She flashes him an apologetic look. "Sorry, Kakyoin-san… Like I was saying, I borrowed it to run some tests about Driver 8's "Take A Break" and "Reach Your Destination" tickets." She holds a palm up to him now, expression earnestly serious. "Take it with a grain of salt, because my grades in stuff like science and math are pretty average, so I had to go over it a few times to make sure. But! I did drop tests a bunch of times, from the same height, with a few different objects of varying size and weight. Once as-is, once with an orange ticket, once with a blue ticket for each one for comparison. It seems like the amount a single ticket can increase or decrease the speed and, um, oomph--" She pauses here to make a swinging motion with one arm, fist hitting her open palm with a whap. "Like, the force of something in motion--is by about 4%. Ah, I timed the duration, too, just to be sure--it's 8 seconds, like I thought. After that it burns off and the speed returns to normal."

"Umm, what else… the ticket effects stack, so two orange tickets shot in rapid succession will up the speed by 8% instead of 4%…" Here she starts counting her points on her fingers. "But the duration doesn't change, each ticket lasts for 8 seconds each. Size and weight don't seem to effect the ability of the tickets from what I saw, either, though there's gotta be a hard limit somewhere."

She takes a breath and flashes a sheepish smile with a duck of her head. "Well... it's not exactly groundbreaking research, or anything, but... I think I understand how it works a little better now. Did you have to do a lot of trial and error with your stand when you were younger, Kakyoin-san?"

↳               ❛   sorry, did you want to be alone ??   ❜

   sender :   @standbowed   /   source :   prompted   /   status :   closed .

    daylight hits the heart of town at an awkward angle ,   offering a hint that afternoon has started to bleed into evening .   kakyoin tugs at his sleeve to unveil the face of his watch ,   seeking exact digits to quantify the hour of day   &   calculating the quickly - elapsing hours remaining to advance the investigation before night falls .   lavender eyes then raise toward the striking yellow sky ,   noting the hints of violet   &   cerise that slowly creep past the horizon ,   &   he employs the stretch of calm to reflect on his findings so far .   exactly how many people had nijimura keicho struck with the arrow ??   he’d gleaned his motive from okuyasu ,   but even he hadn’t been able to provide a complete number of those implemented in his late brother’s   target practice ,   even if he could name quite a few ,   &   claimed believable ignorance to   just how many   stand users had been created in the escapade .

    how   outrageous   that a teenage boy could acquire such an incredible power   &   exploit it to this degree .   nevertheless ,   kakyoin cannot be   too surprised ;   with all he’s seen   &   been through ,   this is but another bizarre event he’s found himself roped into   ━━━━   except now ,   he’s actively   chosen   the chaos ,   &   with a notable enthusiasm ,   given that stand research is the aspect of his job for which he feels the most passion .   truthfully ,   this is the   least   taxing thing he’s meant to be investigating here .

    the calling of his name extracts him from his thoughts ,   prompting a shift of his head toward the direction of the newly - recognizable voice .   widened with surprise ,   cool - toned amethysts swiftly warm up at the sight of the young girl bounding to catch up with him ,   &   kakyoin comes to a stop to accommodate her ,   smiling wide as they exchange greetings .   they haven’t been acquainted that long ,   but kakyoin is   positively charmed   by hachi   ━━━━   the bubbly ,   puppylike young woman exudes a kind of sweet innocence that he feels compelled to protect ,   &   considering the   monstrous depravity   occupying the shadows of the town she calls home ,   that instinct meets intense reinforcement .   like   hell   he’ll let her name show up on the list of victims . 

     “   huh ??   ”   he voices ,   lashes fluttering in his confusion .   “   now ,   what would make you ask me such a thing ??   did i look really busy ,   or something ??   ”   kakyoin chuckles ,   brushing a curtain of crimson hair over his shoulder .   “   actually ,   hachi - chan ,   you’re just the person i was hoping to see .   how has figuring out your stand been going ??   have you discovered anything new ??   ”

[s-brant]

The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

[valdomarx]

Aard

“Jaskier, down!”

Jaskier doesn’t think, doesn’t question, just drops to the leafy mulch covering the forest floor. He sees Geralt gesture with his left hand and a whoosh of air thunders over his head.

The shockwave slams into the huge, hideous arachnomorph that had been scuttling towards him, lifting the creature off its legs and sending it flying ten feet through the air. It hits a tree trunk with a sickening crunch and falls, twitching, to the ground.

He’s still in shock when Geralt comes over, picks him up and sets him on his feet.

“What was that?” he asks, heart pumping furiously.

“Giant spider,” Geralt says flatly.

“No, the -” he gestures by flapping his hand about. “- thing you did. Was that Witchery magic?”

Geralt scowls but indulges him anyway. “It’s not mage’s magic. It’s called a sign. That one was Aard.”

“Huh. Handy.”

Yrden

“Show me another of your signs.”

“They’re not party tricks, Jaskier.”

Jaskier pouts. “I have the natural curiosity of an artist, and it’s cruel to deny me the sustenance of knowledge.”

Geralt glares at him. “You want to see another sign? Fine.” He inscribes a round shape with his fingers and a line of purple light glows in a wide circle on the floor around Jaskier.

“Tingly!” Jaskier grins.

“Now stay right there.” With that, Geralt disappears off, silver blade in hand. Jaskier twiddles his thumbs, pretending he isn’t bothered by the muffled sounds of something inhuman shuffling around the old castle or the distant blood-curdling shrieks.

Out of the corner of his eye he’s sure he sees something pale and insubstantial flit through the air, but when he turns to look directly at it, it’s gone. Then there, again, more shapes moving in the dark corner of the room, then another by the window.

“Geralt?” he calls, determined not to let his fear show in his voice. “Um.”

One of the shapes draws closer, still wispy like smoke until it crosses the threshold of the purple circle and all at once solidifies into a twisted nightmare of a human skull, flesh tearing away from the bone in filthy chunks.

“Geralt!” he screams as the figure approaches him, all thoughts of bravery forgotten. “Geraaaaaaalt!” The figure is inching closer, bony hand outstretched to claw at Jaskier’s face.

As he thinks this is it, this is how I die, Geralt leaps from the darkness with blade in hand, slicing the wraith’s head clean off. Its body collapses and its head rolls to a stop in front of Jaskier’s horrified hands.

“You used me as bait? You absolute brute!”

Geralt shrugs one shoulder. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Igni

Jaskier shivers, looking morosely at the cold bath. They’d been trekking through the snow for days and every part of him was frozen from his nose to his toes.

He’d got through the freezing nights by promising himself a lovely warm bath when they finally reached an inn, but they arrived late and had been lucky to find accommodation at all.

He’d insisted Geralt take the bath first to have the benefit of the lukewarm water. He needed it more after the hunt. But by the time he was clean, the water was stone cold.

Jaskier braces himself. Needs must, though he dreads the idea of becoming even colder for the sake of getting clean.

As he contemplates the bath, Geralt slips up beside him. He looks him over, seems to make a decision, and waves one hand.

There’s an orange glow, and then the water is steaming and Jaskier can feel the heat radiating off it. He could honestly cry.

“How did you...” he looks at Geralt. “Never mind. Thank you, Geralt, really.”

Geralt grunts and goes back to cleaning his armor.

Axii

The pain is unlike anything he has experienced before. The gash in his leg is deep and ugly, but the tearing of the rent flesh pales in comparison to the agony of the arachas venom racing through his veins.

Every muscle in his body feels like it’s on fire, a blazing explosion of acid which leaves his lungs heaving for breath and his voice hoarse from crying out.

“It’ll be okay, Jaskier,” Geralt says, his voice clipped and tight. “We need to get you to a healer.”

Through his panic Jaskier catches sight of Geralt’s face, frowning deeply. He longs to wipe his sad expression away. But his body is wracked by another jolt of pain and he can’t stop screaming long enough to respond.

As his vision begins to swim and fade, he sees Geralt gesture with one hand and his mind goes suddenly, blissfully blank. The pain and the worry and all of his thoughts dissolve away, leaving him floating in empty space.

Feel no pain, Geralt’s voice echoes through his mind, and everything in him yearns to obey. Sleep.

The pain is gone. His eyes drift shut and darkness descends.

Quen

Jaskier barely has time to register the gang of bandits that appears on either side of the ravine they’re travelling through before a hail of arrows descends on them, sharp death incoming on the end of every shaft.

Geralt swears and moves faster than lightning, grabbing Jaskier and pulling him close, throwing one hand upward. A shimmering gold shield fizzes and pops into place around them both, the arrows bouncing harmlessly off it.

Jaskier looks up at Geralt with wide eyes, seeing him cast in a golden glow as the shield thrums around them. The bandits yell and growl, but within minutes they give up their assault and slink back into the forest in search of easier prey.

Geralt’s arm is still around Jaskier’s waist and their bodies are pressed together. Warmth blooms everywhere they touch.

“You okay?” Geralt asks, voice gentle.

Jaskier is breathing heavily, and it’s not due to the close call. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Thanks to you.”

Geralt's face pinches and Jaskier can see the refutation forming, so he distracts Geralt by taking his chin in his hand. The golden shield holds, keeping the world at bay for a few precious moments.

“My hero,” he says, and means it.

“You don’t have to -” Geralt says, turning his face away, but Jaskier keeps a hold of his chin and turns it back.

“I know I don’t have to,” he says, sliding his hand around to cradle the back of Geralt’s neck. He leans in until there’s nothing more than a breath between their lips. “I want to.”

[lunar-wandering]

Sparkling Laughter

the giggle glow au is the only thing keeping me sane right now

Word Count: 2.6k

Read on Ao3

MK hadn't really noticed it at first.

Between always being in a brightly lit area and mainly focusing on training, it wasn't exactly like he saw Wukong laugh often.

So maybe it took him a while to notice.

But after he noticed, it was kinda hard to miss.

Wukong straight up glowed when he laughed.

And MK didn't mean that figuratively. No, he meant it very literally.

A single chuckle was enough to get Wukong glowing like a nightlight. Full out laughter could very nearly light up a whole room.

"You know, the stories never mentioned that you glow." MK said, one day, a few monkeys climbing all over him. The monkeys messing his hair up was what had prompted Wukong to start laughing in the first place, and MK figured there was no better time than the present to bring it up.

"It was never really something that others deemed important, I guess." Wukong said, shrugging, still faintly glowing with a few remaining chuckles as he helped remove some of the monkeys from MK. "It's definitely not showstopping or cool, so it was just left out."

"I think it's neat." MK said, "You're kinda like... a light up toy or something."

"Hm, not sure how I feel about that comparison." Wukong said, pulling the last monkey off of MK's shoulders, and ruffling MK's hair, fixing the mess the monkeys had left it in. "There you go, bud, all good as new."

"Thanks, Monkey King." MK said, scooping up his bag from where he'd laid it on the ground, summoning the staff and getting ready to vault back to the city. "Y'know, we are just doing game night tonight. You're welcome to join if you want to-"

"It's fine, I've got something to do tonight." Wukong said, giving MK a smile that didn't feel...fully real. "You go have fun with your friends."

MK slowly nodded, not fully believing Wukong, but figuring that arguing would probably get him nowhere. So he turned, jumping off of Flower Fruit Mountain, and leaving Wukong all by himself.

-

Two months later, on the ship, Mei found a game of Twister in one of the closets.

It hadn't taken much to convince everyone else to join in, that is, other than Macaque, who insisted on not taking part. Not even 4 minutes into the game, Red Son forcibly kicked Wukong out, on the grounds that his tail gave him an unfair advantage. This left only Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, MK, Mei, and Red Son on the Twister mat.

Macaque lazily spun the spinner with his tail.

"Left hand blue." He said, voice a complete deadpan. Mei moved to reach over across MK-

And Tang fell down, bringing Pigsy down with him, who accidentally bumped into Red Son, who, knocked off balance, fell into Mei, who fell down on top of MK.

In the end, only Sandy was left still in 'standing', the others in a pile on top of the twister mat.

".....Sandy wins?" Macaque said, a questioning lilt in his voice, prompting MK to look over at him-

Which caused him to notice the expression on Wukong's face.

It suddenly struck MK that within the one week everyone had been on the ship, Wukong had yet to laugh, which in hindsight was rather concerning, but right now that meant that the other's didn't know-

"Uh guys? You might want to shield your eyes." MK said, barely managing to say it before-

Wukong burst out laughing, doubling over, and lighting up like a flashlight, accompanied by a few sparkles shining in the air. Macaque startled at the sudden noise, and ended up falling off the couch, which just made Wukong laugh harder, glowing brighter as a result. The others yelped at the sudden brightness, MK's warning not having registered in time.

Wukong, registering the fact that he was currently blinding the others, calmed down a little, the glow lessening as he went from full out laughter to soft chuckles.

"S- sorry I just-" He started, clearly trying to keep himself from falling back into hysterics again. "You looked so funny I just- I couldn't help it-"

Mei was the first to manage to blink the residual spots out of her vision and register what had just occurred.

"You glow?!" She asked, incredulous, the others also sporting similar expressions of surprise.

Things proceeded to go downhill from there, questions getting thrown out without any answers. At some point, in the chaos, Wukong straight up left the room without anyone noticing he was gone until Macaque pointed it out.

Of course, after a day or so, the hype of the new information had died down a little.

But not completely.

-

It was early morning, and almost everyone was in the kitchen. Mei and MK on their phones, Pigsy working on breakfast, Sandy pouring some tea, Red Son sipping some coffee, Tang reading a newspaper, and Wukong leaning against the kitchen wall, looking lost in thought. (They'd all long since learned it was pointless to try to wake Macaque up, he was not a morning person.)

Overall, it was an average morning.

And then Wukong started giggling, glowing softly. He was clearly lost in thought, probably completely forgetting where he was at the moment. Mei looked up from her phone to glance over at him.

"What, did you think of something funny, 'Sparkle Snickers'?" Mei asked, and Wukong-

Wukong's giggling abruptly cut off as became aware of where he was again, and as soon as he registered what Mei had just said, he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in a flustered motion.

It took a moment for the others to connect the dots.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." Mei said, an evil smirk appearing on her face. "Glitter Gleam."

Wukong's tail waved back and forth in a nervous gesture.

"Giggly Nightlight."

A nervous smile formed on Wukong's face.

"Twinkle Toes-"

"Okay, stop." Wukong said, a hand covering his face, a faint blush visible on the tips of his ears. MK almost felt bad for him, but at the same time...

"C'mon, after everything I've tried teasing you with, nicknames about your Giggle Glow is what gets to you?" Mei asked, laughing a bit herself as Wukong squeaked as the word "giggle glow" left her mouth. "Seriously? This is what embarrasses you?"

"It's not embarrassing-" Wukong said, which was a sentence nobody really believed, considering the way he still wouldn't look at them and the fact that the faint blush still hadn't faded. "It's just, not....cool, y'know?"

"No, I don't know." Mei said, leaning forwards on her elbows. "Please, enlighten me."

Wukong stuttered, clearly trying to figure out how to explain it, as MK set his phone down on the table.

"Is that why the stories don't mention that you glow?" MK asked, "You don't think it's cool, which, by the way, it totally is, but since you believe it isn't you got them to cut it out cause you're embarrassed over it?"

"It's not cool! And I'm not embarrassed!" Wukong denied, fur bristling as the others leveled him with a look that clearly showed that they didn't believe that statement one bit. He looked around the room, registering everyone's expressions-

He could tell they weren't going to let him live this down.

So he did the first thing he thought of.

He turned and ran away, hitting the light switch as he did so, sending the room into complete darkness so no one could see where he went.

"Wh- hey!" MK cried out, standing up and fumbling for the light switch. As he did so, he heard a thump, a muffled yelp, and a door shut, but he was mainly focused on trying to find the stupid light, why could you never find it when you need it-

The light switched back on, revealing that MK had been a good distance away from it. Macaque stood beside it, looking confused.

"What is going on?" He asked, looking confused.

"Monkey King ran away over something stupid." Red Son said, filling the shadow monkey in on the situation.

"So, what, you're all going to go look for him?" Macaque asked, sighing when the others nodded in response. "I should've expected that...."

"C'mon! You can search with us!" Mei said, grabbing hold of Macaque's arm and dragging him with her, MK and Red Son following close behind. Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy opted to stay in the kitchen, in case Wukong ended up circling back. MK, Mei, Macaque, and Red Son ended up walking through the halls, keeping an eye out for any sign of the Monkey King.

"Couldn't you just, y'know, use your hearing to find him?" Red Son eventually asked Macaque, who stumbled a little at the question, having not expected to be addressed.

"Who, me?" He asked, looking...oddly nervous. "Nah, he has ways of getting around it anyways."

"...Are you sure?" MK asked, now feeling just the slightest bit suspicious. "I remember you saying that you could hear anything-"

"I'm sure! I won't be any help here, I assure you!" Macaque said, shrinking down a bit as the three continued to stare at him.

"Y'know, you've seemed a little off this morning...." Mei said, and Macaque scratched the side of his face nervously. "Are you....okay?"

"What? Oh, I'm fine." Macaque said, chuckling nervously- and immediately realizing his mistake, as a faint glow resonated from him for a few moments. It wasn't long, but it was enough.

"Monkey King." MK said, and Wukong turned, dropping the Macaque glamour as he ran down the hallway, the trio chasing after him. he rounded a corner, and the trio turned to follow, but MK paused, hearing a faint banging coming from the closet door. He stopped, letting the others continue to chase Wukong, and turned, opening the door-

And the real Macaque tumbled out, onto the floor.

"I'm going to kill him." He mumbled, distractedly letting MK help him stand up. "He locked me in the closet. I'm going to kill him."

"Yeah, maybe save the murder for later." MK said, turning to follow where he'd seen the others gone.

-

He eventually found them, standing in the common room, looking around them with a healthy does of suspicion.

"Where'd he go?" MK asked.

"We know he hasn't left this room. Red Son made sure of it." Mei said, Red Son holding up a tablet to show he'd hacked into the ship's security systems. "But as for where in this room he is...."

"...As much as I hate this, I've got an idea." Macaque said, the others looking at him with mild shock. "Don't look at me like that, I'm only doing this because it'll be funny, and cause I wanna get revenge on him for locking me in a closet."

"The floor is yours." Red Son said, doing an over dramatic bow as he said it. Macaque rolled his eyes (and MK mentally decided to bring up the shadow monkey's own dramatics later-) but he stepped forwards, into the center of the room.

A shadow clone appeared, slowly emerging from Macaque's own shadow. It stood there for a moment, still, before turning and merging with a shadow on the wall.

A few seconds passed.

And then a faint glow, as well as some muffled giggling, came from behind one of the cabinets. MK quickly moved forwards, reaching behind it-

And pulling out a doll-sized Monkey King, holding him up by the edge of his clothes.

Wukong squeaked, quickly switching back to his usual size, sending MK a bit off balance, and trying to run away, but MK refused to let him, holding tight to the edge of Wukong's outfit. It took a few minutes of struggling, (which Macaque clearly enjoyed, if his own muffled laughter was anything to go by.), but eventually Wukong gave up, sighing as he fell down onto his back, laying there, defeated. Mei and Red Son moved to stand closer to him, and MK lightly nudged him with his foot.

"You ready to admit that your Light-up Laughter is cool now?" He asked, and Wukong groaned, rolling over so that his face was hidden by the floor.

"Stop giving it stupid names!" He whined, "And it's not cool!"

"I should warn you." Macaque said, sitting down on the nearby couch, "You're not going to make much progress on this. He was like this even back when we we're 'friends'. I'm surprised he didn't grow out of it, honestly."

"You shut up." Wukong hissed, sitting up a little just to glare at Macaque before going back to laying face down on the floor. "I should've never let myself laugh in front of any of you."

Well. That sentence was, on some level, mildly concerning, but MK decided to brush past it for now.

"Aw, c'mon Monkey King." Mei said, kneeling down and poking Wukong's arm, repeatedly. "You can't just mope over a few nicknames forever."

"Watch me."

"If you keep this up, we'll have to start calling you the emo monkey, instead of Macaque." Red Son said.

"Should I be offended by that?" Macaque asked, "I feel like I should be offended by that-"

Wukong didn't respond, continuing to lay face down on the floor. Mei continued poking his arm. After a few minutes of consideration, MK started to lightly nudge Wukong as well. Red Son knelt down beside MK to start poking Wukong in the back with a pencil he'd found on a nearby desk. Macaque watched this go down with thinly veiled amusement.

After a few moments of no response from Wukong though, Macaque sighed, standing up and making his way over. Silently, he created a few pairs of sunglasses, handing them off to each member of the trio, indicating for them to put them on. A bit confused, but willing to go along with it, they complied, sliding the glasses over their eyes. Macaque, having affirmed that their eyes were protected, slid his own pair of sunglasses on, then looked down at Wukong, contemplating.

And then he leaned down and skittered his fingers behind Wukong's knee. The reaction was immediate, Wukong squeaking before breaking into loud laughter, lighting up like a beacon, sparkles shining all around him. It was nearly bright enough to make the trio shield their eyes, even with sunglasses. Wukong kicked his leg out, very nearly missing hitting Macaque in the face, rolling over and getting up, practically scrambling to get away from the other monkey.

"Don't do that." He hissed, once he'd managed to get a hold of himself, the light dimming and vanishing completely. (Mei, quietly, mumbled something about wishing she'd gotten that on camera.)

"Either you stop moping around and accept the facts about your, what did Mei call it- right, 'Giggle Glow'-" Macaque said, giving Wukong a threatening look. "Or I tickle you again. Your choice."

".....Fine. Fine!" Wukong said, "It's cool! Whatever! Can we just drop this already?!"

-

They didn't drop it. They very much didn't drop it.

Whenever Wukong so much as lightly chuckled, someone would comment on the glow. At some point, he genuinely considered the idea of just never laughing in the others presence ever again, but that plan was quickly laid to rest-

The others were just. Too. Funny.

"Kill me." Wukong muttered, his face on the table, a faint glow still surrounding him from residual laughter. "You guys are going to kill me."

"Yep, that's the plan!" Macaque called from the door way. "Can't believe it took you so long to figure that out, Sparkling Peach-"

"I hate all of you."

[thejudgingtrash]

11. “...did you just sniff me?” for percabeth pretty please 🙏🤍🤍🤍

Heya! I’m finally here to come back to this request 😄😄 It took me only a little bit in comparison to other requests, but I'm here!

Also since @percyheartsannabeth, @skaterannabeth and @not-optimistic-petrol-biscuit had asked about fluff. Here you go... Kinda? 😬 Anyway. Here's a monster sneak peek into may I introduce you to my beloved wife? 😋

It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to pump out 11k words. That's a record for a single session in one day (with like two breaks). And yes, that is still not the entire chapter. Here are roughly 9,2k for you to consume!

TW: alcohol, overbearing relatives not minding their own business, a tiny section talking about domestic abuse and Athena and Frederick Chase ain't shit but that's nothing new. Poseidon too, for once. Enjoy!

may I introduce you to my beloved wife?

(*absolutely not proof-read, my bad)

Annabeth sighed. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve already finished the week. Think about the money. Think about the move to California. Push through this day and next week, think about the money and the minute you’ll hand your termination in. She wanted to splash some water up her face, but the makeup that tinted her lips in a luscious rose and added some bronze to her high cheekbones was too expensive to be washed off and hastily reapplied.

It was pre-Dionysus Day, which meant it was merely the calm before the storm. The first sparkling sip of an impending disaster waiting to rollover the roomy Greek villa Percy forced her to stay in. Well not really forced. Forced and bribed her to stay in. That made it sound slightly better. Just think of the one-hundred seventy-five dollars he’s going to transfer into your bank account for your new start in California. I should renegotiate. California is also expensive. Make it two-hundred fifty thousand.

The tall blonde looked at her reflection in the mirror. A young woman full of life was the first thing she had seen in the morning but now she looked tired and annoyed, just how she felt. Something crashed in one of the dozens of rooms next to her and people laughed. Annabeth sighed again. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise she would scream like a banshee, making sure that at least Hermes and Prometheus would check her, if it wasn’t for Percy stuffing socks into her mouth to make her shut up before they got to her. The majority of his Greek relatives had been lovely if not terribly nosy and overbearing. It was the opposite of her family. His was warm and chaotic and for the most part welcoming. Hers? Cold, apathetic, disapproving of everything she did. She had no family in comparison, and neither would she want to compare this wholesome messy bunch to the cold-hearted Athena Pallas and the monster that was Friedrich Chase.

Annabeth respected Hera and Hestia, she definitely side-eyed Aphrodite who was cheating on her husband and she would definitely stay away from Zeus. Crossing paths with him occasionally in the New York office of Atlantic INC. was terrible, seeing him openly be flirty and loosen up during a forced trip was way worse.

This was a bad idea and I have a terrible feeling about this. The burgundy wrap dress that hugged her skin was soft and light but in the Thessalian heat it felt like a sticky cocoon caging her. She wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, ready to burst out and wow everyone. Neither was she a moth drawn to a flame. She was a bug that had been sprayed by Percy with a pesticide, wrapped in toxic chemicals which were slowly dissolving her body, piece by piece.

A knock shoved the horrendous image inside of her head aside. “Yes?” she asked with a firm voice. Too firm with a hint of annoyance, but she was not a professional actress and could not switch her emotions off as she pleased. She was a junior marketing manager for Christ’s sake. Not for much longer. Only two more months…

Percy opened the door. “Are you ready?“ he asked with his usual pleasant baritone reaching her ear.

He wore light linen pants that hugged his legs loosely and a light blue shirt with the first buttons opened up. She could see his defined chest and the swirls of black hair peeking through. The hair was styled into a disheveled curly mess which suited him way better than the gelled back corporate look and he forgot to trim his beard like the day before. Annabeth couldn’t deny what she saw – her tormentor was a very attractive man.

“Do you want to bail?” His sea-green eyes darkened a shade. Worry flashed through them.

Annabeth exhaled sharply for the last time. “I wish I could but then I’d leave you without a fiancé,” she smiled through the pain.

Her glance found her reflection again. The topknot was still intact, and a few strands carefully framed her heart-shaped face. She looked perfect on the outside and she wanted to commit manslaughter in the inside.

“Let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and stretched his hand out. It seemed like Percy was the one that would rather bail.

Annabeth took it without any complaint. She was the happy girlfriend soon-to-be-wife and holding hands was way better than being forced into kissing him during Sports Day. The Theodoropoulos family truly had planned activity after activity during those two weeks in winter.

“Oh!” Sally peeked into the bathroom and saw her son holding Annabeth’s hand.

“There you are! Is everything okay, mija?” she asked with her sweet Dominican accent and looked at Annabeth.

Annabeth automatically smiled back. Sally was the mother she never had, and it broke her heart crumble by crumble by the sheer charade Percy and she were forced to display for the next six days. Sally Jackson deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve being deceived and lied to by her terrible son and his tag-a-long coworker.

“Yes, Percy was just making sure we’re arriving on time.” Annabeth got on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Percy’s stubbled cheek. It tickled but by now she had gotten used to it.

He rolled his eyes, smiled at his mother, nonetheless. Sally’s eyes sparkled and she clapped, clutching her hands tightly. “You don’t know how proud you’re making me, mijo,” she then said teary-eyed.

“You finally found a great girl and she is standing next to you.” Sally wiped a tear away and the awful feeling that sat on Annabeth’s chest and made everything heavier, amplified by a thousand times.

This was way worse than being referred to as the woman that would bear him three to five children presuming with the first one sired on this current vacation by Ares. Yes, Annabeth wanted two children at max, but not definitely now. She was twenty-eight and in the prime of her life! Note: Percy would certainly not be the father of said two children. Unruly blond waves and a mischievous grin blitzed through her head. Pale blue eyes came back from the deepest pit of her memory. Luke. Fuck no, that was even worse than Percy. His betrayal… Annabeth tried to shake the memory off and focused on the ongoing situation in front of her.

Sally truly hoped her son found love and not a quick fling. Oh shit, Annabeth thought and looked up to Percy whose face expressed similar thoughts. His conscience nibbled and guilt flooded his body.

“Mamá,” Percy began and released Annabeth’s hand in order to grasp the older woman’s shoulder.

Sally brushed his large hands off. “No, no! Off you go! You younglings should be downstairs celebrating your reunion with the entire side of Poseidon’s family.”

Annabeth appreciated the fact that Sally was invited and flown out each winter holiday by the Theodoropoulos’. Despite having been divorced from Poseidon for over twenty years, she was still a popular and welcomed guest, not just because of her son’s attachment to the Greek side and his tied division of the Greek family company.

Sally gave each of them a last smile before entering the women’s bathroom. Percy exhaled and pinched his nose. After ten seconds he released the nose and looked back at Annabeth. “Ready?” he asked a final time. Annabeth nodded.

The loud singing, yelling and talking that had been muffled by the bathroom hit her by a tenfold. The place had all the Mamma Mia vibes without the fun singing four days ago. Not anymore, as drunk relatives hit up the shore with loud music and talked loudly in their Pontic Greek dialect.

As the couple descended the stairs and walked through the parlor, a new wave of guests arrived at the same time. Three people that have just entered early adulthood looked up to them. Two men, one blond with a stoic face and bronzed skin, the other was shorter with spiky black hair and a beautiful grin on his lips. The woman next to him was the tallest out of the trio and possessed a high ponytail that would leave Ariana Grande dying out of envy. The dyed lilac hair swung around and nearly reached the middle of her thighs, meaning the hair was even longer without its tight prison on top.

“Thanatos, Zagreus, Megaera!” greeted Percy and gave each one of them a rib crushing bear hug. They looked pleasantly surprised at seeing Percy being accompanied by a pretty woman his age. It seems like the proposal didn’t reach all of the ends of the Greek world.

They fell into a short conversation in Greek and Annabeth smiled politely next to Percy as she fell entirely out of place. The evil Duolingo owl didn’t prepare her for this experience. Neither did her mother bother teaching her at least their Athenian dialect properly. She could introduce herself in Greek, order a beer, say goodbye and that was it. Thank you, Athena. For nothing again.

“Oh, you must be Annabeth,” Megaera eyed her carefully and Annabeth had the feeling that she could split her open with her hands. Weirdly enough, Annabeth was kind of into it. Megaera wasn’t only as tall as Percy but she was clearly the one with the toughest workout regimen as she displayed her muscular legs and defined arms with a short cocktail dress only a few shades darker than her hair.

“Yes,” Annabeth squeaked. She nearly added a ma’am towards the end. Megaera cocked her dark eyebrow. She had an aura that demanded respect.

“Interesting to see the woman who captured Perseus’ heart. It seems that he did develop a good taste after all. Calypso was as pretty as the crescent moon flower but sadly as dull as his corny jokes are.” Megaera’s deep smirk was a stamp of approval as her eyes roamed all over Annabeth.

“Hey!” Percy interrupted and placed a firm hand on Annabeth’s waist, as if he was trying to mark his territory.

“You have your own toys right to your right,” he then added with a playful tone.

Megaera actually laughed and waved dismissively. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.” A clear offer which left Annabeth’s face turn into a fiery tomato red.

“Anyway, we have some catching up to do,” Thanatos proposed as Zagreus and he silently watched the conversation blossom. He sounded as reserved as he looked.

“Indeed,” Zagreus agreed, surprising Annabeth with a posh English accent. “Father will murder me if we miss out on his moussaka. It’s to die for you need to try it, Annabeth, at least before Hephaestus gets ahead of himself.”

Annabeth laughed. The Theodoropoulos did have their positives. “I will, Zagreus,” she nodded.

“Oh please, if aunt Sally gave her go for you to stay here, you’re as good as family. We’re Than, Zag and Meg for you,” Zagreus offered.

“Annabeth is already my nickname but thank you for the kind offer!”

The three new guests went on to join relatives and friends at the party which seemed to get more chaotic by each passing minute as the volume seemed to increase.

“My cousin Zagreus from my uncle Hades’ side,” Percy explained as the three went out of his sight.

“Are they friends? Or…”

“Pretty sure they’re polyamorous. You know, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t really care, I see Zag once every twelve months at max. Just don’t stick to Meg’s side for too long otherwise she’ll turn you into her fiancé.” Percy’s tone suggested that he was not joking.

“Oh.” Annabeth didn’t know what to think of it.

Percy closed his eyes as if he was making a silent prayer, before his sea-green met Annabeth’s light gray ones. She smelled like lemon with a hint of lavender, instead of roses like normally. Delicious. If it weren’t for the fact that it was Annabeth.

“So, listen. You know I’ve talked about Dionysus Day and how his birthday brings out the worst side of everyone.”

Annabeth nodded as Percy went on to explain.

“Pre-Dionysus Day is basically same with the only exception that my great-grandmother’s house is filled with the entire family. Yes, we’re expected to eat, drink, laugh, drink, dance, drink, reminisce on our past, drink, make fools out of ourselves in order for them to take blackmail pictures and drink some more, but no matter how much they want you to open up… try to control yourself. Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Annabeth’s stomach started to churn, and her knees slightly gave in. “Look, I’m truly sorry for the mess that I’ve caused,” Percy looked directly into her eyes and tried to ignore the rosy streaks across her flushed cheeks. “And my relatives can be overbearing. But if we manage to stick through this night and the next one tomorrow, we’re as good as done with playing games.”

“Fine,” Annabeth gritted through her teeth. She had agreed to the terms and condition. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupid decision she made two months ago.

“Let’s go.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob that separated the parlor from the huge living room. Percy followed her as she opened the door. A wave of laughter, wine, ouzo, discovered secrets, cigarettes, sweat and fun hit them.

“Oh wow, someone should open a window.” Percy suggested as he coughed. Luckily cousin Metis had the same idea. No, aunt Metis. Or was it Thetis? Why did Percy need to have so many relatives with similar names again?

“Oh, Annabeth, look at you!” Aphrodite had snuck up behind them and surprised the fake couple by hugging each of them and nearly spilling the expensive Greek vintage in her hand on Percy’s shirt. The red alcoholic liquid carelessly swirled in her glass and more than often seemed to want to escape from her clutch.

“Aphrodite, be careful!” Percy reminded her as she dug her fingers into his arm. Her nails were as fake and bought as was the bond between Annabeth and Percy.

“Oh, please cousin, you should learn how to loosen up!” She laughed, but it sounded more like the shrill sound a bird made when it got nearly hit by a car. The high pitch made Annabeth slightly frown.

“Take your girl upstairs and show her all the Zorbas moves you got!” She wiggled her badly overdrawn eyebrows.

Aphrodite had always been the poster child of perfection. She knew how to dress her curvaceous body the right way, she knew how to apply the perfect touches of makeup on her face and she was the most graceful being Annabeth had ever met. Seeing her so disheveled left the blonde American content. It showed that Aphrodite wasn’t one of the gods, she was a mortal mess like they all were. That, and it was kind of funny seeing the abrupt transition from oozing perfection to looking like a rough mess after a couple of glasses of wine.

“If you know what I mean, you two know what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy answered. Unfortunately, they did.

“That reminds me, this is such a pretty dress that you got!” Aphrodite’s eyes widened and she tugged at Annabeth’s sleeve that went slightly over her elbows. “Percy needs to bring me a couple of those the next time he visits. Oh wait! You’re about to marry, Annabeth can take me shopping. I want to visit New York next summer. When was your wedding again?”

Panic filled Annabeth she tried to stutter a lame excuse like they had done the entirety of the stay. Aphrodite’s brown eyes found something else to focus on in the meantime. Her hand went out to poke the tall blonde’s chest as she went on to pull on the thin fabric.

“You should show the men what you got! Free the girls!” Aphrodite yelled over the loud music, pushing Annabeth’s C cup to its limits. “Let Percy stand in the corner with that stupid frown, all jealous and depressed while you’re out on the hunt!”

Percy did not look amused especially since he tried to pull Annabeth away.

“Yeah, just like that!” Aphrodite’s glass pointed directly at his face as Annabeth tried to shove Aphrodite’s fickle fingers aside. “Oh, if I were just a little bit younger and not tied to your cousin…”

“You mean cousins,” Percy corrected and made a step backwards as Aphrodite’s dreamy and drunk dazed focus shifted from Annabeth to him.

“Aphrodite, leave Percy and his future wife alone,” Hera arrived to save the stressed couple and rolled her eyes. “Go harass Hephaestus and try to be a faithful wife for once in your life.”

She still looked like she had a massive stick shoved up her ass by the way she stood entirely straight next to them, but Annabeth appreciated the gesture. If Hera didn’t like Aphrodite much, Annabeth would rather join Team Hera than stand alone by the bleachers and under Aphrodite’s charmspeak. Aphrodite pouted and stomped with her feet twice as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman marching towards her forties. Then she stormed off and ran into the arms of her lover, nother husband to spite her mother-in-law and embarrass her even further.

“Malàka,” Hera cursed and lost her cool for one second, before clearing her throat and focusing on the already tired fake engaged couple in front of her. Not even Hera seemed to be averse from drinking a glass of wine or two. “You two definitely need a drink.”

Annabeth agreed with her for once.

She pointed at the bar behind her, which was managed by Dionysus and his wife Ariadne. The number of relatives ganging up on them and demanding new drinks was frightening. Surprisingly Dionysus kept his cool and shoved drinks in people’s hands at an impressive speed.

“Yeah, let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and took Annabeth’s hand again.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked him. She knew from Thalia that Percy rarely ever drank and that his family was to blame for most of it. Percy seemed stiffer and graver than usual as well. As much as she disliked his jokey nature and easy-going demeanor he displayed at work, she’d much rather have that Percy by her side right now. Dionysus Day and the day before seemed like it was hell on earth for him and walking through it each year must take a toll on him.

“Yeah, let’s just each grab a glass of wine. Let them be happy about me shoving this disgusting stuff down my throat.” He thanked Ariadne as she prepared two glasses of the same vintage Aphrodite seemed to have inhaled earlier.

“Thank you.” Annabeth took her glass and sniffed. The wine smelled sickly sweet with a hint of the bitterness that the fermentation process had left. The glass in her hand weighed surprisingly heavy, not because of the wine itself but because of the golden swirls decorating it. The glass transitioned from the crystal-clear transparency into a deep black. A lyre surrounded by a bigger laurel wreath decorated the middle section and a golden snake was wrapped around the stem. The golden rim gave it a nice finish.

“Into a fruitful night,” Percy darkly mumbled over the music. He was really not looking forward to it, which confused Annabeth immensely. She didn’t understand why he pushed himself through this if he really didn’t like the drinking activities. He surely had his reasons, hence her not starting a fight with him over it. It was his family and their tradition after all.

“Into a fruitful night,” Annabeth instead repeated.

Issuing a weird toast as well. Percy Jackson was clearly not a drinker. Their glasses clinked and each of them took a sip. Thankfully grandma Rhea made sure they were well-fed before the festivities began.

“Fuck,” Annabeth muttered. A fine vintage as well. Not as sweet as she thought, it left a hint of sweet cumin as the lingering aftertaste. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, but she didn’t bother to care as she took another gulp. The wine was nearly finished. She slowly started to understand why ancient civilizations went crazy after this stuff.

As she looked at her so-called fiancé, she saw that his glass was already empty. A grimace rested on his face as well.

“Err, Percy?”

“What?” The dark brooding look on his face was no more.

“Shouldn’t you take it easy?” Annabeth carefully asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I am,” he stated and cocked his head towards his cousin who was still busy playing the barkeeper but kept an overall watchful glimpse on the guests that flooded the gates.

“Dionysus saw me drink. Most importantly he saw us have a drink. That should be enough for me, but if you want some more, be my guest.” He shrugged.

Annabeth felt that she should probably drag his mopey ass out of the party, but it was way too early to leave. “Fine,” she said and asked Ariadne for a refill. Annabeth went in for another long sip. She should definitely stock her wine cabinet once she was back at her shitty apartment. Before the glass reached her lips again, Hermes snatched it away and chugged the remaining wine.

“Hermes, what the hell?!” Ariadne grabbed the glass and pushed her husband’s cousin away. The bored postman was back with his shenanigans.

“My bad, dear wifey, but I’m on a mission here to abduct sweet Annabeth,” Hermes winked and placed his hands around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“What are you up to?” Out of all of the relatives she’s met so far, Annabeth was convinced that everything Zeus had ever sired was a mistake. Zeus himself was a mistake.

“Can you stop being German and boring for once?” he joked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She did not like this one bit. She turned her head around and saw that Percy had been pulled into a conversation by Hypnos and Morpheus. He had completely forgotten about her. Great.

Hermes guided her through the crowd, towards the middle of the room. They had to dodge chairs, drunk relatives, a sofa, chatty relatives, the coffee table and dancing relatives before they made it.

“There she is!” greeted Achilles the confused marketing manager.

Paris, Helen, Patroclus, Hermes and Achilles stood in a circle around a table. Dozens of shots of all sorts of colors were displayed. Annabeth had a terrible feeling about this.

“What is this and why are you pulling me into this?” Annabeth asked and did not like the mischievous grin they all shared. She wanted to go back home and cuddle with Daedalus on her sofa and push his cat ass out of the way before the next steamy Outlander scene hit the screen. Yes, Annabeth was that much of a single that seeing some on-screen action was the best she could get. She hoped that the mangy cat didn’t bother Thalia all too much while she was staying in Greece. She owed her so much already.

“Well, I stayed in your country,” Paris started. “And they have a weird tradition with ouzo. They don’t drink it the way we do, watered down and slowly at lunch and what not…”

Annabeth was still American for the most part and had nothing to do with Germany. The last time she stayed there was nearly thirteen years ago. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Germany. Friedrich Chase lived in Germany. And she fucking hated Friedrich Chase. Therefore, she hated Germany. Things that would never change. Okay, Hamburg was a cool city and she was glad her father moved to Cologne. Should she feel the urge to travel back to Germany for a week or less, she’d go to Hamburg, take ten thousand pictures, and post them on Instagram the minute before she was boarding her flight back to New York. Helping her to enrage her stupid father was all Germany had to offer.

“Germans do ouzo shots,” Patroclus cut to the chase. “And since you’re the newest member of our family…”

“And German!” Paris and Hermes added simultaneously.

“We’ve decided to play this little game,” Achilles added.

“What’s the name of the game?” Annabeth asked. She was only slightly curious. Emphasis on slightly.

“Last man standing. Oh sorry, ladies. Last person standing,” Hermes corrected himself as he placed four shots in front of each person. That was way too much hard liquor to handle. But if she did Jägermeister bombs in her sophomore year of college without any issues, this should be fairly easy.

“What are the rules?” They all looked at her in silence. No rules. No prize. Just drink.

“Oh wow.” The urge to roll her eyes and walk off came back with a force.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Annabeth said and already turned to her right.

“Why?” Helen asked innocently. “Need your man to look after you? The one who’s having an amazing time back there with his third glass of wine?”

Foul game. Annabeth’s head shot to the right. Helen was right. Percy was laughing and looked like he was having a great time chatting with Oceanus and his wife Tethys. Tethys refilled his glass as her husband and Percy broke into laughter once again.

If that’s the case…

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Annabeth agreed. She swallowed the bait and she knew it. There was no reason why she should feel upset about Percy opening up all of a sudden. He desperately needed it. Why she wished to be a part of that, Annabeth did not know.

“Great!” Helen threw her brown mane over her shoulders and grabbed the first glass.

“Για μας!” they all yelled and chugged the liquor. Gia mas, the Greek toast, was repeated every time and it seemed to brighten the mood, despite resting heavily on Annabeth’s stomach. Her college days were over, but she was glad she resisted coughing repeatedly.

Patroclus clutched his stomach after the second shot, Helen ran out after the third, Paris and Achilles were laughing maniacally after the fourth and Hermes mysteriously disappeared after the first one. Annabeth was the last person standing. She placed the crystalized shot glass back on the table and examined the messes around her. The only thing that had happened to her, were that more golden locks escaped from her bun and her lipstick needed some reapplying as she left marks on each glass.

Annabeth tried to take a step away from the table and felt how the world slightly shifted around her. The fact that she would curse and hate herself for her behavior in just six hours, was something drunk Annabeth gladly put aside. The headaches that definitely would haunt her for the rest of the trip didn’t matter, she won and that was all she cared about.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled as all inhibition faded away, leaving pure and raw life force behind. Unbeknownst to her, Annabeth had moved right into the circle of dancers.

“Perseus, get your bride before she breaks her legs!” someone laughed. Was it Iapetus? Or was it Hyperion? Who even cared at that point?

The next two hours were a blurred mess. A blackout slowly crept through her mind, leaving foggy memories behind. Annabeth felt how she was dancing with people and how people were laughing. Were they laughing at her or with her? Did it really matter? Why was her hair repeatedly slapping her face, didn’t she tie it up?

She danced with different people, men and women. She really hoped that the guy that looked like a naked Danny DeVito with longer black hair was not Zeus who had lost his shirt and pants. Who was the guy with the sea-green eyes again? Why was he clapping and laughing whenever she was busting a move next to Hermes? Was he important? Why did he remind her of work? The shots might have been a short-sighted idea after one and a half glasses of wine. She probably overestimated the amount of food she had consumed at dinner prior. Wasn’t she supposed to try someone’s moussaka?

“There you are! Ares, stop dancing with her for once. We’re about to leave.”

Ugh. Ares. Not Zeus, but still yucky.

Sea-green eyes. Percy, of course. How could she have forgotten the asshole that brought her into this whole mess? He seemed fairly sober, didn’t he have a glass or three of wine? Annabeth was certain, she’d be able to drink him under the table. His height and his build might put him at an advantage, but if he wasn’t used to drinking, she might have a fair shot.

A rock song was the next song that appeared. Percy wanted to drag Annabeth off the dance floor.

“Oh no!” Aphrodite intervened with a shrill screech. “Give the two lovers some room to show each other affection!”

Hera actually raised her glass for once to show that she actually agreed with one of Aphrodite’s wild ideas. Someone fumbled with the playlist and a Greek slow jam roared through the old speakers.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Percy muttered under his breath. But roughly eighty pairs of eyes were all but watching the soon-to-be betrothed and waited for a romantic dance which reminded Percy more of the horrors that the eight-grade dance was.

Annabeth drunkenly hiccupped and looked at him in surprise as she felt one of his hands around her waist and the other one taking her hand. They rocked as if it was the final dance at prom. Annabeth barely remembered prom. Oh right. Her mother had forbidden her from going. She never attended prom.

A casual glimpse through the crowd showed her that people were actually filming this nonsense and some women were actually cooing. Did… did they seriously think this back and forth with sweaty clothes on was romantic? Her eyes found Percy’s again.

“So…” he began.

“So…” she repeated.

“Careful!” he warned her before twirling her through the tight circle. People screamed and applauded. A camera flash blitzed through the darkness twice.

“Oof,” Annabeth groaned. Her stomach and equilibrium did not appreciate that sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” Percy swore. The rocking motion made both of them sleepy. Annabeth suppressed a yawn, rested her head on his shoulder. Percy could make the perfect comfy bed, if he wanted to.

Percy, sensing that people were awaiting some action from either of them, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Annabeth’s eyes widened. Is he going to kiss me in front of them? Again? her panicked brain asked. She was turned into stone, not by Percy’s distant cousin Medusa who had eaten most of the truffles, but by the tenderness of his actions. He was one solid actor.

Percy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before moving on to a temple. Annabeth blushed and buried her heated face in his chest as he released her. Intimate, soft and sweet. The screaming relatives disrupted their comfortable silence yet again. The slow song came to an end and the next upbeat one invited everyone back to the dance floor. Annabeth released herself from Percy’s tight embrace and just bolted. Damned be nausea. A wave of coldness hit her. She felt something she didn’t like the minute Percy had softly kissed and soberness woke her at a start. What was it? Anger? Disappointment? Longing? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted, but the amount of people standing in his way made it more difficult for him to keep up with her. His hand brushed over his own lips.

Annabeth opened and closed doors left and right. The kitchen, the dining room, the smoking room. She hasted through the first floor until she found another lost soul in the fireplace room. Why the villa had a fireplace room in the first place, she did not know. It had been super-hot the entire time but what Annabeth understood as heat and what native Greeks deemed as hot temperatures didn’t have to correlate.

Great-grandmother Gaia’s humming faded away. The eldest of the Theodoropoulos looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. When she came to find out the intruder was Annabeth, joy spread over her face.

“Come, come!” The broken English that she softly spoke reminded Annabeth of her own grandmother. She hadn’t seen Elsbeth Lilienthal-Chase since she had left Germany. And since her mother didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, she didn’t have a phone number to reach her with. The only way would be through that asshole Friedrich Chase, and the only time she’d willingly let someone contact that man was if she had been six feet under and he would be forced to show up for one important family event for once.

“I was unable to sleep. Parties aren’t something for me. I’m too old and boring for my children and their children,” Gaia sighed as Annabeth took a seat on the green sofa next to the light blue armchair. All of the cushioning seemed to have been made by Gaia as the socks had the same pattern as the pillow that Annabeth leaned against. Balls of wool surrounded the older woman as if she sat on a field of fresh tulips.

“Drink, drink! You need water. I’m pretty sure you danced a lot.”

Annabeth kindly took the offer, grabbed the carafe and poured herself a little bit of water into a small glass. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing.

“My children deem me crazy,” Gaia continued. “The war with the ottomans. Deportation. Fleeing and seeing death everywhere. Losing my father in the chaos. Then the big world war after that twenty years later. They don’t want to listen to the same stories. They only want to have fun. So, they sent me away.”

Annabeth felt terrible for the old lady. It looked like she had been through hell and back in her youth. She didn’t look like she needed much, only someone to listen to her.

“I won’t bore you much,” promised Gaia.

Gaia’s tanned leathery hands continued working on the little socks. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dearie. We have plenty of acetaminophen and other hangover remedies. Tomorrow will be even worse, because Dionysus wants to celebrate his birthday with even more wine,” the old woman laughed, and her green eyes twinkled full of life.

“I also was young once…”

The two sat in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Gaia’s humming or Annabeth refilling her glass of water.

“So,” Gaia began.

“So?” repeated Annabeth.

“You are the woman that tamed my little Perseus,” the older woman grinned.

Oh no.

Annabeth had a lump in her throat and drinking water to solve it, didn’t work. She wasn’t just lying to Zeus and his wife. She was lying to an entire clan, from the youngest to the oldest members. What Percy and she were doing wasn’t right, neither was it fair. Sure, Percy’s shitty uncle didn’t help much by forcing him to marry the next person, but did the rest of the family deserve to be deceived as well? No, they didn’t, and that truth rested heavily on Annabeth’s narrow shoulders.

The fact that Gaia looked so much like her great-grandson was crazy. They possessed the exact same shade of sea-green. It was passed onto Rhea, Percy’s grandmother, and then Poseidon, Percy’s fucked up father. Always full of intelligence and calculation. Shifting easily from delighted and full of life to the crashing anger of a storm. Power and knowledge were key features of Gaia’s eyes.

“How did you meet my sweet Perseus again?” Gaia innocently asked but Annabeth knew that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question.

“At work,” she honestly answered, and Gaia smiled. The old lady was able to sense the truth.

“He’s not my direct boss, but we run into each other a lot. And we hated each other from the moment we saw each other.” Annabeth remembered how she accidentally spilled her hot coffee all over his shirt. She had been public enemy number one from then on.

“He’s an excellent boss, as much as I hate to admit it. He knows his ways around and is passionate about the ocean and its inhabitants. Definitely more passionate than me, I’m just there for the money. He actually wants to make a difference. And he’s extremely annoying, might I add.”

Gaia burst into laughter and needed a minute to calm down. Annabeth cracked a toothy grin. “Ah yes, I can see how you fell in love with him.”

Doom. Uneasiness. Discomfort. The lump in Annabeth’s throat grew bigger and bigger. Why was her vision so blurry all of a sudden? She looked down at her dress. Dark dots appeared. More sprinkled across her lap as Annabeth realized she was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth sniffled. “I… Percy… I…”

Gaia put her knitting utensils aside and set herself upright in the armchair. “Oh no, what is going on, Annabeth?”

The calming hand on her back did not help the young professional at all. No, Gaia’s honesty and curiosity made it way worse.

“Percy and I… we’re not engaged. We did it because Zeus-” Annabeth tried to confess, but Gaia brushed her off.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I know,” the old woman smiled.

The tears that smeared her foundation or rather what was left of it ceased to fall. “You what?!”

Shock widened Annabeth’s light gray eyes.

“I knew from the minute you stepped into my house. I’m pretty sure Rhea knows as well.”

Annabeth’s jaw fell open. “B-but how?!” she stuttered and felt like an utter and complete idiot. The first few days had been rough and difficult, but now she thought that Percy and she conveyed the illusion of being a happy couple.

“You were scared of everything including him the minute you arrived,” Gaia warmly smiled. The infectious warm smile of a grandma looking out for her little chicks. Was Annabeth now one of them?

“I knew something was off with that sudden engagement of yours with the way you two behaved. Either you were pregnant, or it was a ruse. Since you are heavily drinking and paper thin, it was clear that there was no pregnancy. You young people truly don’t eat enough anymore,” Gaia shrugged, patted Annabeth’s knee and went back to knitting the sock.

“But now… it all makes sense. You do feel something for each other. Even if you are blind to it for now.” She continued to hum. “I just hope that my dear Perseus will be the young and carefree boy he was all those years ago one day again. And I do believe that you are the key in finding him hidden underneath all those layers and walls he had put up due to his father.”

Annabeth didn’t even close her mouth during the elder’s monologue. Did Gaia seriously connote that she… that Annabeth Chase… might feel something for her soon-to-be boss? Madness. Absolute madness. She took everything she had thought of the friendly old woman in front of her back. Maybe her relatives did have a point, when they decided to brush Gaia off due to her old age.

Annabeth? And feeling something for Percy? If that something was hatred and the utmost rage, absolutely yes. But… anything else? She would receive a hefty sum on her bank account and would put in her two weeks the minute she found a better job in California.

“You know… there is a tale I’d like to tell about men.”

And Annabeth would prefer to place the glass back on the table, throw the heels away, storm out and run to the next airport.

“They are stupid vapid creatures,” Gaia carried on.

Annabeth snorted behind her glass. “That is certainly true,” she agreed and earned an honest grin from Gaia.

“My dear husband Ouranos with whom I had all of my dear children decided one day that one woman was not enough. And that twelve children were not enough.”

Twelve children?! Annabeth's womb just twisted and turned in protest. The shocked expression on Annabeth’s face made Gaia chortle loudly.

“Oh yes, back in my day we were all very fruitful,” Gaia affirmed.

“That sounds horrible,” Annabeth interjected.

“Oh, only the birth part and the eighteen years after it,” the older woman dismissed her which made Annabeth in turn laugh again.

“My father was a farmer and he had one piece of advice: never let someone toy with you. You are not a doll; you are a person with morals and dignity, a person with feelings and dignity. Let no one, especially not a man, treat you like a commodity or something to kick around. Well… when dear Ouranos left me and sought our neighbor with bigger breasts… I taught him that lesson. And I did so with my father’s trusted knife that I hung on the wall afterwards.”

There was no knife displayed on the wall. It was a fucking scythe. Large, frightening, brutal. A golden great long sickle with jagged teeth rested on the wall as if it were ready to cut you up into one thousand pieces. Was there really dried blood stuck on the teeth or was Annabeth’s drunken mind making things up?

“The minute our youngest turned eighteen he took off and was never seen again. And now, should a person, in that case my Perseus, not know how to treat you properly, you know what to do,” Gaia advised and took a sip out of her own glass.

“Uh… you mean threaten to cut his genitals off with a large and sharp family heirloom?” Annabeth’s eyes widened again.

“No, dearie…” Gaia gave it some thought. “Well maybe so, dearie,” she then went on. That made Annabeth chuckle again.

“But demand absolute respect from him. Don’t ask him for it. Demand it. I don’t know how but he has dragged you into our family and expects you to play the perfect fiancé. This will eventually blow up in his face and he will drag you along with him. Teach him a lesson, however.”

“You know what? I will!” With Gaia’s official blessing, Annabeth was all smiles and scheming new plots. If the head of the family gave her the approval of kicking Percy’s ass, she definitely would.

Steps echoed in the fireplace room and Annabeth and Gaia’s heads turned to greet the intruder. They didn’t even realize the door opened and closed again.

Gaia’s younger twin who still had some black streaks in the braids marched into the hall, curious about what the two women in front of her were previously talking about. Gaia’s youngest daughter Rhea had joined them. The large blue floral dress made her seem like she never left the late 1960s and the two long braids only added to that sentiment.

“Mamá, what is going on? By the way Percy is looking for you, Annabeth,” Rhea informed her grandson’s alleged fiancé before taking a seat in front of her and grabbing one of the many balls of yarn in front of her mother. Rhea then went on to play with it as if she was a six-year old.

“Oh no, Rhea, Annabeth and I were just chatting about love and life,” Gaia batted her eyelashes.

“You see, I gave Rhea the same advice about her disgraceful husband when he went out to seek another woman.”

Rhea rolled her eyes behind the large pentagonally glasses. “You and your stories about the scythe, mother,” she sighed.

“I have to make sure the younger generation knows!” Gaia huffed. “I won’t be here for much longer and then-”

“We'll regret all the things we’ve said and done to you, I know mamá, you have been telling me this since I was four years old and spilled my apple juice,” Rhea completed her mother’s sentence.

Rhea’s attention shifted to the smiling blonde in front of her. She grew to like Percy’s fiancé. She had a fire within herself and a backbone, all great things to handle a Theodoropoulos man.

“But my mother is right when she says that the scythe is a trusted tool. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades did scare Kronos with it after he tried some foul things with their sisters. Treated them worse. Did overall horrible things. He never wanted daughters, only sons. Didn’t seem to accept the fact that it was out of my hand.” Rhea squished the ball of light blue yarn in her hand.

“My children were always looking out for me and I will be forever grateful for them. I do hope that you will have the same feelings and love for your children.” It was clear who their father was supposed to be.

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Annabeth squeaked. Did it get hotter in here all of a sudden?

The door opened, and a worried Percy stepped into the fireplace room. “Oh, there you are,” he sighed as he immediately sighted Annabeth’s blonde unruly curls. He had been running from the basement all the way to the roof searching for her. Relief washed over his face like some shower gel from a cheap commercial. Only then did he realize that Annabeth had been cornered by both his nosy grandmother and his even nosier great-grandmother.

“Whatever they’ve been telling you, it’s a lie, it’s wrong and it never happened!” he warned her as he took a seat right next to her.

“Oh please, relax,” Rhea rolled her eyes and threw the wool at her grandson. “We have been talking about mamá’s scythe.”

“Hey!” both Percy and Gaia complained. At least they hadn’t dished out embarrassing stories of him taking off in diapers at night.

“This is expensive! You young people show no respect towards others' belongings,” Gaia cursed.

Annabeth took the blue yarn and placed it back on top of the pyramid of other colors.

“Thank you!” Gaia smiled before she focused on finishing the sock.

“You’ve found your fiancé, Perseus. Now go off back to celebrate and let us old people reminisce about the past and talk.” Rhea lazily waved at them whilst Gaia didn’t even look up from her craft.

“We will,” Percy said while getting up and casually dragging Annabeth along. He kissed both Gaia and Rhea on the cheek, Annabeth threw a hasty “See you in the morning!” over her shoulder before the couple left.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked as he pulled Annabeth aside for a small breather.

She nodded. “It’s just a bit overwhelming with the amount of people that either want to take pictures of us, hope I remember when their youngest kid’s birthday is, or they tell me they hope we have our first baby preferably in less than a year.”

Percy blushed. He didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, men are mostly left out of the baby talk until their mother’s saw that their best friend’s children had their first grandbaby. He truly didn’t have any intention of having a child before the age of forty. He had to save a business from his damned uncle, run and manage said business and preferably find a woman he tolerated enough to marry before he could even think of children.

Percy apologized again. “One week,” he promised her.

“One week,” Annabeth repeated and nodded.

“We’re going in, you’ve missed the high of the party with your talk with my yai yai, but that’s perfectly fine. The first have already left, let’s just mingle for ten minutes or so before we can-”

The door flung open. “There they are!” yelled Hermes who was followed by Zephyrus and Hercules.

None of them had any intention of letting the party stop before five in the morning. It was merely two. The minute Hermes had his sights on Annabeth, he knew that he had found his best drinking buddy aside from Dionysus himself. Oh no, Annabeth thought and rightfully so.

The minutes of calmness and rest next to Gaia did their wonders because Percy and she were thrust back into the party at full force. She didn’t exactly remember when the blackout happened, but it was roughly thirty minutes later. She was drinking, she was dancing, she was completely making a fool out of herself. The hair? A mess. Annabeth herself? Don’t even think about it. She had been dancing with Hermes and Patroclus, Aphrodite accidentally stepped on her foot one time when Ares approached her.

Percy broke his own promise and accepted a fourth glass of wine from Dionysus who insisted on it. That glass was his doom. The last droplet touched his tongue and his world turned into a flashy mist, his consciousness was broken into pieces, fragmented and sprinkled across the floor. Where he was, when he was and who he was were things he couldn’t remember. The only thing that popped up in his mind were waves of solid gold. Was it hair? Could hair truly move like that and possess that texture? And a whiff of lemon with a hint of lavender crawled up his nose. It was an odd combination, but it felt safe and like home. He liked this smell. Where did he smell this before?

Percy didn’t care, he had other matters to attend to. The first thing on the docket was finding the bathroom, he had drunk way too much. The house had weird rules in regard to bathrooms. Was it the left side or the right side that the young men could use? Why did his uncle Hades have to break two sinks in a span of a week when he was sixteen again? Why were women and others allowed to do whatever they wanted? His great-grandma and her weird plans were always set to make him fail somehow. Things that she had thought of decades ago still bore fruit today.

Percy stumbled upstairs and turned right and prayed the doors he was opening were empty bathrooms and not relatives making out. That was just what he needed. The first door he opened was of his great-uncle Oceanus and Tethys who had a face mask on her face and pink curlers up her hair. At least the old people still knew how to behave. He hoped his mother had left the party hours ago. He apologized and closed the door. The next one was an empty bedroom, his even maybe. No, his bedroom was on an entirely different floor. Or was it?

The next bedroom was closed off thank god, but from the sounds on the inside it seemed like cousin Eos and her newest catch Orion had some fun. Disgusting, Percy thought before he moved on. The next door was what he was looking for. A bathroom. Lit up, clean and empty. Empty if it wasn’t for this one woman who was clutching the brims of the polished sink. She was tall, the golden hair equaled a rat nest and her red dress seemed to have witnessed a lot.

“Ugh,” she muttered and looked into the mirror. Her eyes found his immediately.

“Percy?” she turned around.

Oh right. He was Percy Jackson, thirty-one, single, hopefully the new CEO of Atlantic INC., he had a fantastic apartment in the Upper East Side with an amazing view and he was in Greece to impress his family with his fake fiancé in order to secure his father’s legacy. His fake fiancé being Annabeth Chase, a woman he loathed, had to pay a little hush money and hoped would leave the company fairly soon after.

“You’re in the men’s restroom,” Percy then stated.

Annabeth looked around. No, it was not the same bathroom she used in the morning. Oh yeah, Gaia’s weird bathroom rules.

“Honestly who cares?” the junior marketing manager complained. “A toilet’s a toilet, no matter who uses it.”

Percy shrugged. Annabeth had a point but it wasn’t their house so they couldn’t dictate the rules.

“I wanted to retouch my makeup, but I didn’t find my makeup bag.” She walked steadily to Percy, but it was clear to both of them that she had her fair amount of shots in her system.

“Yeah, it’s probably in the other bathroom. Wait, let me use the bathroom for a second and then we can head back to our room and you can look for your makeup.”

Annabeth nodded and waited on the outside while Percy was tending his business. After drying his hands, he opened the door and found Annabeth yawning in front of one of his yai yai’s paintings. It showed the scythe from the fireplace.

“In all honesty, your great-grandmother is an amazing woman. I admire her. Showing kindness and strength each day. How old is she?”

“Turning 106 next October,” Percy smiled at her. “She always said she wanted to live long enough to see her favorite descendants find their own happiness, whatever it may be.”

The softness in his voice made Annabeth’s heart ache. She turned her head back to the painting. She was a nobody. She had no family, no traditions she could upkeep. She didn’t even have a steady relationship in the past five years. Fucking Luke Castellan. He also had to take that from her as well. Make her suffer. That’s what Athena, Friedrich and Luke all thought at the same time. And they all had nearly reached their wicked goal if it hadn’t been for her stubbornness and will to eventually blossom into something else. The first step towards that something else resided within her move to California. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and start a new life, somewhere where no one knew her.

A thumb brushed over her cheek. Annabeth looked up to Percy. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing again.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Percy assured her. His hands found her sides, pulling her into a soft hug.

A true fiancé level hug. Annabeth had never felt that comfortable within a man’s reach. Percy might have been an awful and annoying coworker, but he truly cared about his fellow people. The way they slowly rocked and kept hugging each other reminded her of the school dance work they had put on the floor earlier. But this time it was real. This time there was no one taking pictures or yelling into their ears, or the demand to see a kiss.

Annabeth rested her face in his chest and Percy leaned his head on hers. It was like they had been made for each other. A welcoming scent greeted Percy. Lemon and lavender. The person stuck in Percy’s crumbled mind had been Annabeth. She was his anchor in the havoc his relatives had created in such a short time. He took a deeper breath. It felt reassuring.

“Did you just sniff me?” Annabeth laughed as she pulled away from him.

“You do smell good!” he defended himself with a stupid grin on his mouth.

“Oh, wait you’re super drunk,” she giggled again as she saw his widened pupils that had pushed the darkened sea-green iris away.

“Well, look at you,” he retorted.

They looked at each other. Aside from the bumping music and the noises people made downstairs it had been completely silent. He missed her warmth; she missed his comfort. Neither would have guessed that a simple embrace could offer so much. Neither would have thought they would take it to the next step within a split second.

One last look. A last time sea-green and light-gray met before each set of eyes closed and their lips met with a brutal force in the middle. Their teeth clacked but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered now, was the moment. Forgotten was the alcohol, forgotten were the troubles of past, present and future. Forgotten were the friends and relatives in the building and back in New York.

So... what do you think? 😄 Like I said, this is not the entire chapter 🤷🏾‍♀️ I honestly feel bad for cutting the chapter off because it's really getting more interesting from that point on 💁🏾‍♀️ I'll probably continue working on this once I've published the next act of The Fool 🥳

Also Greek people, if something seems off with this (aside from random English at times lol) hit me up, I definitely have to do more research!

[introloves]

thank you to @starrydaisy for this delicious idea <3 (sorry if it isn’t that good ;-;)

— cw; sacrilege/sacrilegious acts + corruption + heavy mention of god + mentions of guilt

your whole life had revolved around scripture, faith, and god. it was a constant loop between those core elements, it hung over your head in every waking moment. parents, fellow church members, always reminding you that, ‘god almighty is always watching.’

you hoped he wasnt. you didnt want him to see you like this, being preyed on by everything that they had told you to stay away from.

in all honesty, you had tried so hard not to fall into temptation, you had just wanted to shoo the man presumably selling unsuspecting kids that filthy worldly poison, but it was difficult when tempation itself was towering over you, ruby red eyes- the same color represented in lust itself- sweeping your body.

“hm? and who are you?” he questioned, voice heavy and dark, he stepped forward and you shuffled back, hitting the back walls of the church.

he asked, but he already knew. you were just another sweet little church girl, he’d seen you devoutly attend church almost every day of the week, turned your nose up at him everytime you’d seen him. if only you knew just how many of the people you prayed next to came to him instead of dedicating their precious lives to god.

it was late, sun had long since set, everyone had gone home for the day and now it was just you and him.

“m-me? n-nobody.” you sputtered, heart spiking as he stepped even closer.

knees that had been sunken against the church floor in prayer now buckled with fear. the man took notice, smirking at the way he could see each tremble beneath your modest skirt.

your body pulsed, blood rushing from your heart to the tips of your fingers, a singular thought crossed your mind when he lifted an arm and trapped you agasint the wall that he was looking at you in a way no man ever did.

it was predatory, animalistic, textbook definition of the carnal sin you’d read about.

“i dont think thats true, bunny.” he responded, your eyes widened at the name.

it brought a sick feeling of guilt simmering in your stomach when you realized you were aroused, you closed your eyes when it hit you just how much you wanted him to call you that again.

“oh?” he made a noise of surprise, leaning in to watch your reaction. he could see your pulse in your neck, quick and scared.

“do you like that? bunny?”

it was confusing, you weren’t supposed to be enjoying this, when did the feeling of fear turn into arousal?

was it just because you had never been this close to a man?

was it because you had never felt the heat of a man like this and with an intention of lust that rolled off of him in waves, or the way you could feel him everywhere without even touching you?

he made you feel small, maybe that name was well deserved for a meek little thing like you.

he chuckled, reveling in the way he could hear your knees snap shut.

“oh how nice, i’ve gone and made a cute little christian girl soak her panties haven’t i?”

you had never heard words like that, not fully understanding what he meant, but you knew it was filthy and disgusting. you clamped your hands over your ears, heat prickling everywhere.

“ah- ah- ah, lets not go and act shy now.” you jumped at the way his hands grabbed yours, whimpering when he swooped down and pressed you back against the dirty wall.

the feeling of him touching you ignited the singular need to have even more- it was like you were seeing for the first time. you had become keenly away of the throb between your legs, like you had come alive, a second heart beat knocking heavily.

“lets see if i was right.” he murmured, choosing to drop your hands in favor of grabbing the front of your skirt with the biggest hands you have ever seen on anyone.

you let him, staying perfectly still while he bunched it higher and higher.

you could have said no, he had looked at you, giving you many outs- giving you opportunities to stop this, but you really were weak. anyone with more faith, more dedication to god would have stopped him, you thought, but you didnt. you wanted to feel more, wanted to see what he was offering.

just like the people he sold to, he had caught you in a trap of allure, wanting to see more, wanting to see what the man with ruby eyes and red hair had to give you.

you didn’t know what to say when he finally found your underwear, unfamiliar with the wetness there- embarrassed because for a moment you had thought you had wet yourself.

his finger slid easily against the slick, puffy lips spreading so easily for him.

oh he was going to enjoy this pussy.

“fuck.” he hissed. bringing the now soaking fingers right inbetween you and him. taking time to show you, show you what a filthy man like him was doing to you.

“w-what is- i-i’m sorry.” you all but cried, and god, the indirect declaration that you had never gotten wet sent tendou spiraling. head swimming, he was so hard.

he was just going to play with you a bit, scare you off and let him continue on his dealings, but he couldnt let you go now, it wasnt every day that a sweet girl like you walked right into his web.

instead of responding, he dove back in, fingers finding your clit with ease. wondering what reaction he was going to get from you because there was no way you’d ever touched yourself. it was all so exciting to him, dirtying up a clean slate.

“ah! o-oh! what a-are you doing.” it was all babbling, unable to come to grasp at the wonderful feeling.

you had begun rocking against him, tears freely falling down your face.

“i’m fingering you.” he simply responded his own voice heavy and raspy.

“please, please. god please.” you cried when he circled the hardened bud.

he stopped at that, and you whined.

“no.” he snapped, grabbing your hip, slipping that singular finger down to sink into your pussy.

“not god. tendou. say it. say my name.” he- tendou growled with clipped words.

you swallowed hard, there were no words to form the shame you felt, but it didn’t outweigh the need to chase... chase whatever high he was bringing you.

it was all too much, his one finger felt so foreign as it prodded your virgin walls but it felt like it belonged there and you wanted more.

“tendou, oh!” you panted unabashedly into the night, the rough walls of the church dug into your back, it hurt, but with rocking hips you bucked against his working hand.

you’d never thought you could make the noises you were making, never thought that a man could touch you like this. there was tightness curling in the pit of your stomach, clenching with every drag of his fingers against your pussy.

it made you heave, made your toes curl, and finally the searing pleasure he brought you reached its peak- and it snapped when he crooked that one long finger of his up, hitting something inside you that made you arch, thighs tremble with vigor while his name played like a sweet prayer against your mouth.

just like he thought, you were already cumming.

little virgin you clamped down on just one of his fingers, gripping him tight while the growing wetness trickled out in an oozing stream.

you’d figure this is why so many walked the path without god, while cumming, screaming out his name- uncaring with who would hear, eyes blown out, body shuddering, hips thrusting against his hold- you realized that the sin of just being from flesh and blood was all worth it.

a man was the one making you feel like this, tendou was the one who brought you to tears. he made you feel closer to any deity than the dutiful praying you had partaken in all your life.

he held you when your body finally relaxed, slumping against him, he- who smelled like weed and an earthy cologne was the one who held you as your body gave out.

he praised you, telling you how good you did while also inquiring your name, asking you were you lived so he could take you home, all the while licking his finger and hand clean of your cum.

without hesitation you told him, shaking while you gripped his shirt. hoping that he truly was real and that he wouldn’t leave you slumped against the old church wall.

and he didn’t, there was still so much more to show you. the thrill of taking this fallen from grace sweet innocent little thing under his wing was much too good.

he wasn’t going to let you go, he wanted to paint your cute face in his cum, wanted to split your virgin cunt open. you were his now.

he walked you home, laughing at you when you cried about the wetness between your legs, dripping down to your ankles.

tendou chatted with you like he didnt just defile you against the church walls, you thought about how wrong the depictions of the devil and temptations were in the bible.

you simply thought that sinning shouldn’t feel this good if it was bad for you.

you knew he looked at you like you belonged to him, looked at you like he wanted to devour you, the perfect mix of fear and excitement coursed through your body because you wanted him to.

you wanted to know just what he could make you feel. everything you had ever learned, all of the punishments you’d surely get either now or in the afterlife seemed bleak in comparison to the throbbing he brought your body.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

The Rewards of Getting Shot | Bucky Barnes

Hey lovelies back at it with the Dinner at DIzzy's content. I would call it a drabble but I would be lying lmao. It is, however, the first smut of the event and that feels special lol. I'm a tad iffy about this one-- usually the smut I write breaches 8k words and I am so not used to condensing it so it's an experience for us all lol. Please do enjoy loves!

Appetizers (Tags): Fluff / Smut (a lil' angst at beginning but soft!angst)

Entres (Pairing): Bucky Barnes x F!Reader (third person)

Sides (Prompts): 23: “I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you.”

Notes: Takes place after Bucky gets injured protecting reader, requested by @hellotvshowtrash (god I hope you like this because the sheer amount of times I giggled like a little girl while writing this needs to be worth something)

THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!!

Word Count: 3k (what is actually wrong with you Dizzy these are supposed to be drabbles)

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

“Buck—” She whimpers, her fingers brushing around the angry red gash on his chest, hand shaking. “What were you thinking?”

Bucky’s skin is hot to the touch, more furnace than man, chest slightly damp from the serum working his body in overdrive. A few tears slip down her cheeks, cold in comparison to the man below her. It’s her fault that he’s injured. He jumped in front of a bullet for her. If she had just been paying attention then it would have never happened. Of course she hadn’t been paying attention. She had heard a scream and turned away for one second— just one— and the next thing she knew there was a bang and—

“I had to do it, doll.” His voice is tired, his blue eyes a little duller than normal, but beyond that there are no noticeable differences— he still stares up at her with that half grin, half worried pout that he always does.

His hands flex on her hips, pulling her body further up his own until her thighs are pushing around his hips, knees sinking further into the mattress. She plants her hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin, afraid that if she lets go then he might disappear. Who’s to say this isn’t all a dream— that he isn’t still laying on the street with a bullet lodged in his chest?

She shakes her head, dropping her eyes back to the healing wound. “You’re hurt— because of me.”

His fingers tense. She can feel his jaw slouching, leaning down and scratching her cheek with his stubble, no doubt trying to find her eyes again. Any other day she would give in, wanting to stare into his eyes just as much as he does. But today isn’t any other day. Today is today and she can’t look at him— not without feeling the guilt crash over her. When did she become so irresponsible?

“I’m fine, doll.” His lips press against her temple and she flinches like she was the one hit with the bullet and not him.

She swallows thickly, curling her hands into balls but leaving them on his shoulders. He smells like the hospital still— like alcohol swabs and the burnt metal tinge that seems to always accompany sterile buildings— and she can barely find the lingering traces of his pine tree musk. Her chest jolts, the sob getting caught in her throat, more tears racing down her face. They don’t phase her at this point— she’s more water than woman right now. The flame and the sea— right now she feels too destructive. Like he’s going to flicker out and that it’ll really be all her fault.

Her throat is raw when she finally answers him, her voice too dense. “You could have been killed.”

His hand— his flesh one— leaves her hip, curling gently around her chin. He doesn’t push her face up yet— he’s still giving her the option to look at him on her own— but she knows it won’t last long. Soon he’ll break and she’ll be forced to meet his stare. She’s never dreaded looking at Bucky so much.

“But you would have been. You hear me? You would have died. The chances—”

“Bucky—” she tries to protest but his hand only tightens.

“The chances—” he continues anyway, not giving her room to talk over him— her time’s running out— “were more in my favor than yours. That’s all there is to it, doll.”

She can feel the final barriers of his patience waning, his grip starting to push on her jaw as his voice takes on a grittier tone. It’s not anger. She’s heard him angry and this is nothing close. This is desperate. This is worse. She can feel him breaking and she can’t take it— can’t take the feeling of him tugging her even closer.

She can’t take it so she breaks first.

“I was careless and you got hurt. That’s all there is to it.” She mutters, her gaze snapping to meet the hard crystal eyes of the man she loves.

Bucky shakes his head, his brown hair falling slightly in front of his concerned eyes. She doesn’t move to fix it like she normally would. Something about touching his face right now feels wrong— feels blasphemous. She’s not allowed to touch him; she hurt him. Her eyebrows crease, lips pressing together. Just looking at him hurts. Probably nowhere near as bad as his skin feels as it fuses back together.

His other hand moves from her hip, the now warmed up metal curling behind her ear. She watches as he swallows, his adam's apple bobbing jaggedly. His stomach is pressed against hers now, his heat burning holes through her thin t-shirt. She can feel every inhale he takes— she can feel how his breaths become closer together.

“No baby—” he pulls her face closer to his and it is only then— when her shoulders bump into his— that she realizes she’s sobbing— “no you were looking out for your teammates. You always look out for us. For me. It was a split second decision and I would do it again.”

Now that the dam has broken she can’t stop the flood, ripping her hands from his shoulders and squeezing her palms against her eyes. Her hands don’t stop the tears— that was never her intention. It’s more so she won’t have to look at his eyes as they begin to glass over. Bucky doesn’t cry often but when he does it always hits her square in the chest. Kind of like how the bullet—

“Why? Why did you do it?” She chokes out as his hands slip around her wrists, thumbs rubbing over her pulse points, drawing her hands away so gently that another round of sobs threatens to unleash.

He’s always so damn gentle with her.

“Baby come here.” The soldier murmurs, voice hoarse, leaning down to press his forehead against hers. “Please. C’mere, doll. It’s okay— It’s all okay.”

He guides her hands to his face until her palms rub over his stubble, locking his fingers with hers and squeezing. His lips find her cheek, skimming over the salty tracks left from her tears, finding her ear and pressing a kiss to her temple. She breathes in and, through the alcohol, can finally make out the notes of earthy musk. It makes her shudder and he presses his lips against her harder.

“I did it because I had to.” He whispers against her skin, words hot and slow. “The other option was watching my girl get shot—” she flinches again and he kneads her hands— “I have to protect the one thing that I can’t live without. That’s you.”

It shouldn’t hurt to hear that. It shouldn’t hurt to hear that he loves her more than anything else— especially because she feels the same way. It shouldn’t but it does. It rips through her ears, slicing down her throat, stabbing at her gut, before finally settling between her thighs— this stinging, aching emptiness. She sniffles, finally curling her fingers around his jaw without his help, scratching through the hair on his jaw. It zaps electricity through her fingers— air into her lungs.

“Buck—” she can’t finish her thought— both because it was never really there to begin with and because his lips crash onto hers, swallowing her words faster than they can come.

He kisses her hard— hungrily— his hands reclaiming their place on her hips as his tongue pushes against the seam of her lips. He still tastes like himself— like plum cobbler and diet coke— and she opens her mouth to him instantly, desperate for more. The first brush of his tongue against hers sends a wave of shocks rushing down her spine, pooling in her core. She doesn’t realize how exposed she is until his hips are pushing up, nothing but his sweatpants and her boy-shorts separating them.

He squeezes, thumbs brushing under her shirt and rubbing hard circles against her hip bones. The contrast— flesh versus metal— is enough to have her head falling back, thighs caging him tighter between her. It takes no time for his mouth to fall to her throat, sucking her skin into his mouth and biting down. It stings in a new way— the bruise like payback. Sweet, sweet payback. The first moan slips past her lips and he groans against her skin in return.

Bucky grinds up against her, using his hands to keep her hips smothered against his, rocking ever so slightly to brush his hardness against her. His movements are jagged, no doubt skewed from his injury, but nonetheless they send little bolts of pleasure zapping down her legs. When he does it again— this time a little harder— she arches her stomach against his, toes curling around thin air the same way her core clenches around the emptiness. Her fingers fly to his hair, threading through the damp strands and tugging a little harder than she intends to.

When he hisses some of her common sense comes back to her— not enough to get her to stop rocking against him— to stop chasing those tiny sparks of everything— but enough to make her ease up a touch.

“Bucky you’re—” he pushes her against his length with more force and she loses herself to the moan that tears through her lungs, the friction like magic— “Buck you’re hurt we can’t.”

“I don’t care, doll.” He mumbles, trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck, yanking the collar of her shirt to the side to latch his lips onto her throat. “Need you now— right now.”

She wants to argue further— he’s already hurt, whether or not because of her, and she doesn’t want to make it worse. They’re on the tip of her tongue; all the words she should say. You need rest. The doctor said to take it easy. Bullet wounds and sex usually don’t go together. She goes to open her mouth— to at least try— but when her lips part all that comes out is a string of nothingness, a metal digit sliding her panties to the side and plunging inside her before she can even try. When she peeks down at him, pulling her neck from its position on her shoulder, she meets his glinting blue eyes. The cheeky bastard.

She clenches around him right away, the slight thrum of the current in his fingers enough to have her moaning his name. It’s all the encouragement he needs to add another. She’s sure that if he were to keep his fingers there long enough the vibrations would be enough to have her climaxing around them. Of course that’s not his style— not right now at least. She can feel the tension in his movements as he twists the digits inside her, curling them as his thumb presses against her clit. He rubs it in a steady— if not semi-sloppy circle. She doesn’t care— the pressure and vibrations in combination with the rhythm of his fingers pumping in and out of her has her seeing stars.

He leans down, nose brushing along her cheek, voice soft and needy. “C’mon baby, I can feel you already— I know you wanna’ let go. Are you gonna’ let go for me?”

His voice is too soft— still much too slow— and it makes her feel like she’s floating, the pressure in the pit of her stomach. That might just be his fingers though, now kneading that spot inside her that has her pulling on his hair again, this time to keep her from falling off his lap as she bucks her hips against his fingers. She’s so close she can taste it— the metal inside her now sharp against her tongue. It’s intoxicating— it’s harsh— and it hits her like a truck how badly she doesn’t want to come around anything but his cock.

“More, Bucky— I want more. Now. Please, baby, now.” She whines, desperate to hang on despite the sweet torture she’s facing at the literal hands of the man she loves.

That’s all it takes for him to hook his arm around her hips, pulling his fingers from her core and holding her above him as he frees his length with his other hand. She drops her hands to his shoulders, the pressure of her pending orgasm beginning to wane until his skin— bare and hot and hard— brushes against hers and she’s gasping for air— for more. She can hear him chuckle through his own, needy huffs, repeating the motion against her throbbing clit. She can taste the metal again— that’s how addicted she is to this man. All it takes is a few measly touches and she’s putty in his hands. So much so that she almost reaches between them and lines him up for them.

“Bucky please— please, please, please— I need you. I need—”

It happens so quickly— her eyelids flashing with white, tongue flooding with the taste of plum cobbler, diet coke, and her body spasming with the orgasm that is no longer just waning as he enters her with one acute thrust of his hips. He doesn’t give her a moment to adjust— she doesn't need one, core clenching around him as he pulls out of her and repeats the jarring motion— and it’s all she can do to dig her fingers into his skin and cling to him for dear life.

“Fuck baby—” he purrs, chest rumbling against hers as he uses his arm to continue rolling her hips through the unrelenting pleasure crashing over her— “you’re perfect— so damn perfect.” His head falls on her shoulder, lips brushing over her bruised skin feverishly. “Think you can do that again for me?”

His words spur something in her— a new, hotter fire than the one circulating through her veins. A need. Despite the way her thighs feel like literal jelly, just barely holding her on top of him she’s suddenly determined to give him whatever he asks. Before she can process her own actions she’s pressing on his chest, carefully avoiding the now almost healed wound, until his back is flat against the pillows, his eyes more black than blue and wider than she’s ever seen them.

“Doll—” She rolls her hips, hissing at the feeling of her still sensitive clit pressing into the hard plains of his abdomen, and his words die into a throaty moan that she swears she can feel in her own chest.

“Let me do it.” Her voice is breathy, the air in her lungs almost entirely gone, but the sight of the man— her man— under her makes her wonder if she ever needed air to begin with.

Surely he’s more than enough for her.

She does it again, rising off of him slightly before sinking back around him, gaze glued to his half-lidded eyes. His mouth is open but no real words come out only curses that, upon leaving his lips, turn into something so much more sinfully incoherent. They’re gasoline to the fire— fuel to the bucking of her hips. When her clit brushes him again it feels less like a shock to her system and more like everything she’s ever wanted coming to fruition.

That familiar pressure begins building again— faster and much too quickly for the slow pace she had been trying to set— and she can feel him start to buck up against her. His impatience is like a drug, one that warps her already hazy mind and urges her to roll her hips quicker, grinding down on him harder. His arm is still hooked around her back, something she only remembers when he tightens, holding her against his chest as he drives up into her, cock brushing the same spot his fingers had.

“Bucky—” she sighs, starting to fumble, losing herself in the weightless feeling creeping over her limbs— “I need— need— fuck!”

She can’t put it into words— she can’t think of a way to tell him that she feels like she’s going to float away— but he understands anyway. He always understands her. In a split second her back is being pushed into the soft mattress, her head pressed into the pillow that is now soaked in his earthy musk. He does it so fluidly that he never disconnects from her, his drilling pace never slowing. His arm lands next to her head and she wraps her hand around his bicep, nails digging into his skin and drawing one more of those gasoline-meet-fire moans.

“C’mon doll—” Bucky’s hand slips between their tangled bodies, vibranium tracing down her stomach before sliding over her aching sex, pressing down harshly. “Gonna’ gimme’ one more, yeah? Gonna’ cum for me again?”

She can’t speak at all this time, only loosely nod and gasp as the pleasure rakes across her limbs. Her eyes flutter shut, unable to do anything more than squeeze her thighs around him, mouth open and mewling as his strokes get slopier, bringing him closer to his own edge right alongside her. The circling of his finger— the thrumming of the metal coming alive— and the messy jutting of his hips is enough to have her falling in seconds, bones nothing but water, limp and liquid as she folds under him. Her second orgasm, unlike her first, is cool. She doesn’t taste metal, she tastes earth and pine trees and life.

Her eyelids feel heavy— deliciously so— but still she peels them open against her orgasm to watch Bucky’s last jagged thrusts and the way he stills, hands and stomach and face clenching as he finds his own release inside her. For a moment he hovers over her, lost in what she can only assume is the same, cloudlike feeling that’s clinging to her, before collapsing on top of her, head pressing into her sweaty chest. His hands find their way under her body, palms slipping up her spine until his fingers curl around her shoulder blades, hugging her to him as his lips press against her skin. She giggles— higher than ever on dopamine and him— fingers brushing through his hair, pulling the damp strands from his forehead like she had wanted to before.

He was right— all is okay.

That’s how they stay for a while, wrapped in each other and easing off the post climax rush until Bucky’s low words breach the silent, foggy bubble.

“Maybe—” he pants, finger skimming the column of her neck— “maybe I should get shot more often. You know, if that’s the— the reward.”

“Don’t you dare.”

[aetheternity]

Hard Pass P3 (Levi X Reader)

Synopsis: Levi is forced out of his comfy dorm room and in a strange twist of events right into your arms at a college party.

Levi was relieved for the silence as he clicked away at his keyboard. Mike had gone to his only late class of the entire week. Which meant Levi could actually study in his room.

The scent of tea and the small aroma diffuser on his desk as well as the open window in front of him welcomed a nice calming smell that was normally masked by Mike's gym bags and sweaty clothes. Which reminded Levi of the laundry he would have to do soon.

He pressed his tea cup to his lips feeling a twinge of irritation as he was interrupted by two knocks on the door. He looked down at the time. 6:15. A little too early for Mike to be back complaining that he'd forgotten his keys.

Then it was probably one of his girls complaining that she'd left her shit in the room. If Levi had a dollar for the amount of times that had happened he could pay for a new roommate.

The next couple knocks were a bit louder. "Levi? It's Y/N.."

Y/N?!

His face practically exploded. He stood far too fast because just as quickly he was flopping over his stupid desk chair and hitting the floor with a hard thud. He gasped audibly tugging at his knee and gritting his teeth.

"Levi? Are you ok?" Came her voice again.

He pulled himself up with a huff and staggered over to the door. Unsurprisingly he had to limp. With a quick turn of the lock he yanked open the door right into his forehead. God fucking dammit.

He groaned in a mix of fury and disgust partially because he'd idiotically stood so close when opening the door and partially because he hated the stupid inanimate object.

"Oh my god! Are you ok?" Y/N gasped, squeezing herself inside and shutting the door behind her. "Let me see? Did you hit your eye?" She asked

Her fingers were so delicate as she brushed aside his hands. So close.. Her thumb traced the already appearing red spot on his forehead. Soo close.. She brushed his hair to the side cupping his cheeks to gently reposition his head towards the light. Close....

She breathed out a little chuckle. "It's probably gonna bruise."

Levi barely registered her words. Occupied with her beautiful eyes illuminating moonlight and the dim lights in his room. His lips parted ever so slightly. When her hands fell away he gulped and jerked his head back. Trying to find literally anything to take the edge off.

"I'll.. go find you an ice pack, ok?" Y/N began already heading for the door.

"K-knee.." Levi tried and mentally cursed himself.

"Huh?" She asked, turning back.

"M-my.. t-two please.."

Her smile was gentle, "Two ice packs. Got it." And with a little wave she was out the door. Her lingering touch still causing heat to pool in Levi's chest.

~~~~

"Aww sweetie, are you sure you're ok?"

He was not. Definitely not. One of her hands was on his uninjured knee and the other was brushing his hair away from the ice pack. He didn't even know if he'd breathed in the last 20 minutes. His brain echoing the word sweetie.

The two of you had been sat on his bed as he uncomfortably laid his head back on the wall. Trying and failing to not fixate on your touch. Every brush of your fingertips was downright intoxicating.

"You look kinda red. Do you wanna try seeing a doctor or something?"

"N-no.." It was barely audible but he knew she heard when she nodded.

If there was a hole nearby he would crawl into it and never come out. Though he also didn't wanna move as the fear of making this situation worse for himself stayed ever present.

"Let me see?" He partially removed the ice pack from his forehead, spine tingling over the way she sucked in a breath. "You should be more careful."

Levi didn't answer. Just squeezed his legs closer together and sighed. In all the time he'd been in this room he'd never hit himself in the face with the door. Just what kind of power did this girl have over him.

"I know because my little cousin has done stuff like this but you should put some cream on the bump so that it doesn't get redder and it'll go down faster."

Little cousin? That wasn't a fair comparison. Little kids do stupid things cause they're kids. Did she think about him that way? Uggghhhh.

He was yanked from his thoughts by her hand coming down to squeeze his. "Are you positive you're ok? Do you need anything else?"

"I-I'm fine.."

Just as Levi said that his attention was brought to the door. Mike had barely stepped into the room and he was already grinning like a fucking idiot.

"Well, hello." He greeted, stepping closer. "Levi, you didn't tell me you were inviting anyone over. Especially not a pretty girl."

Y/N's chuckle was nervous, "Hello, you must be Levi's roommate." She stuck her hand out which Mike immediately took placing one hand on top of their joined hands.

"And you must be Y/N." He said "I've heard so much about you."

His teasing was met with a glare that could slice concrete. If Levi had known Mike was gonna come straight back to the room he definitely would've gotten rid of Y/N sooner.

"Oh? Really?" Y/N turned to look at Levi behind her. "You told him about me?" It was a split second thing but Levi could've sworn her features softened.

"Oh, no I meant Hange." Mike replied

"Oh."

Oh? Was she disappointed? It sounded disappointed? Did she want Levi to talk about her?

"But at no point did Hange tell me you were this pretty. Neither did Levi honestly, I'm kinda disappointed."

Alright that's enough of that. Levi stood. Placing the ice packs on his bed.

"You should probably leave." He gritted his teeth at how harshly it came out.

Now Mike was letting go of Y/N's hand. "Oh wait! I came to get my phone. Hange said you had it."

Levi blinked. He'd almost forgotten about that. It had been sitting on his desk since yesterday. His knee was screeching in absolute horror as he staggered his way over to his desk.

"What the hell happened to you?" Mike asked, clearly trying to hold back a snicker.

"Aw, it was an accident. I scared him."

Levi returned with the phone shooting daggers into Mike who pretended not to notice.

"Thank you." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Y-yeah.."

"Did you put your number into it?"

Levi's face perked up a little. "Yes."

"Ok, then I'll text you later." She assured, brushing her finger tips over his forehead once again. "Goodnight boys." And with those last words she took off.

"Faking an injury?! I didn't think you had it in you!" Mike celebrated as soon as she was gone.

"Dickhead." Levi scoffed.

"Hey, is that any way to talk to the best friend who just confirmed your biggest fear moot?" Mike plopped down on his bed with a playful huff.

Levi flopped down into his desk chair, staring up at the ceiling. "One you're definitely not my best friend especially after that shit. And two I'm not you I don't fake shit to get girls."

"That would totally be hurtful if it wasn't true." Mike shrugged "I meant the fact that she doesn't have a boyfriend."

Levi practically flipped himself out of his chair. "How do you assume that."

"Simple. Hange told me about her ex boyfriend. By the way it was probably that guy that took her from the library that day. And Hange says that a lot of guys find Y/N attractive. Because of this her ex got too overprotective and they broke up. But he had no reason to be because Y/N would always tell people she had a boyfriend or at least around Hange she did."

Levi stared at his barely drunk tea. The liquid probably cold after being left on the table so long. So she had dated that guy.. He had been so tall and pretty muscular looking, was that her type? She didn't seem like she was going to get back together with him.. but he was still around.

"All I'm saying is she seems loyal. You better snatch her up before someone else does or she gets back together with her ex."

His attention was drawn away by his phone softly buzzing on his table. He pressed the on button, swiping his pin and clicking the notification as it popped up.

Hey Levi, it's Y/N.

Listen ik you said you're ok but I bought you some cream just in case. I'll bring it to you tm ;)

His heart fluttered and ached remembering her touch and her kind words. If he didn't full blown know Mike was staring at him he would probably hug his phone.

~~~~

Too much time had passed and suddenly the whole school was on break. Levi had been dreading this. Not because he was a workaholic like Mike claimed but because he knew Hange was gonna drag him away and make him vacation.

And no form of vacation could possibly be more relaxing for him than curling up in bed with some books, doing some casual cleaning, and drinking tea with light music playing at all times. Mike was definitely going home during this time so it'd be the perfect way to spend his break.

But Hange's family owned a couple lodges and that meant another year of begging for Levi to come ski and freeze his fingers and toes off.

"Come on, Levi!"

"Absolutely not."

"Erwin!" Hange called to him where he sat on Levi's bed, scrolling through his phone.

"You knew he was going to say no." Erwin replied

"Which is why I brought you to help me make my case." Hange complained

"You clearly made an error in judgment then." Erwin retorted

Mike laughed from where he was laying on his own bed. "Might as well give it up Hange, Levi is just too stubborn about this. We all know he wants to be close to all my junk while I'm gone cause he'll miss me."

"I wouldn't hesitate to tell your stalker where you're going over break." Levi spat

"She'll figure it out anyway. She's a high class stalker. And I'm not her first." The room fell in uncomfortable silence but Mike just leaned back giving his full attention to his phone screen.

"That disturbing remark aside.." Erwin began shaking his head. "I'm going."

"And that's supposed to change my mind? How'd Hange force you into it?"

"It may stun you but I chose to go through with this all on my own. There are studies that claim it's good for the mind to get away from normality during breaks or away from your comfort zone to properly clear your mind. It'll also help you make less mistakes when classes resume."

Hange smiled, "Yes, that's exactly what I was thinking."

Levi rolled his eyes. "If I go you can't beg me next year." Hange's loud shrill screeching made Levi's heart drop out of his ass.

"Finally!!" Hange screamed in excitement as she wrapped her arms around Levi's neck.

"Get off already! You're such a pest!"

And that was how Levi ended up on a train for almost three long hours with Hange blabbering on about nothing and Erwin sat in the seat across from the two of them listening to podcasts while staring out the window of his own very sad music video.

And all of the crap Erwin had spewed about getting away being more relaxing proved to be completely from the ass as Levi shivered along wrapped in two scarves, a pair of gloves, his long green coat that fell around his ankles and a winter hat plopped over his ears.

"Walk faster Levi! Is that the best your little legs can do?!" Hange called, somehow racing her way up the slope with three bags. One that wasn't even hers

Levi grunted in irritation. Not only were they walking up a hill but it was covered in snow so deep that every step felt like he was falling.

"Do you need help?" Erwin asked, not waiting for Levi to respond as he hoisted the overnight bag off his shoulders.

Levi just huffed. "I swear Hange was made in a lab."

"As possible as that is, Hange was basically raised in the snow so this is the equivalent of dust for her." Erwin replied as the two of them trudged along.

"Her parents own multiple ski lodges why the hell did we go to the one up a fucking hill."

"The other closest one was more than 6 hours away. Did you really wanna be stuck on a train with Hange for more than 6 hours?"

Levi just groaned as they finally walked through the surprisingly big doors of the huge ski lodge. Hange raced over to the front desk as Erwin slipped onto the lobby couch, followed by Levi who was still kicking snow off his boots and his second bag.

"What's in that bag?" Erwin questioned, nodding to the luggage Levi had yanked over his lap.

He exhaled loudly giving the bag a couple soft pats. "Clothes, extra boots, extra gloves, two bottles of cleaner and a small box of tea as well as some light reading material."

"When are you gonna have time to read? We're going to be skiing most of the time we're here."

"If you think I'm getting on a ski lift you have less working brain cells than Hange."

Erwin smirked with a roll of his eyes, "Alrighty then, what's in this bag."

"All of the shit that didn't fit in this bag, toothpaste, toothbrush, cologne, extra pairs of underwear-"

"Woah, Levi you can't just talk about your underwear in a public space." Erwin chuckled at his own joke.

Levi rolled his eyes, "It's bad for your health to hang around Mike as often as you do."

"How is it you're not dead yet then?" Erwin retorted

Hange had been chatting up the receptionist for almost 15 minutes, bouncing up and down in front of the desk and indulging him in the stories of their travel up here. The man just gave her a sheepish grin and honestly Levi felt a little bad for the man but a little less when he thought about how it wasn't his problem anymore.

Moblit.. his name tag read. Somehow Hange's mannerism seemed more crazed with him if that was even possible.

"Yeah.. it has been so long." He heard the man say. You got.. taller..

"We're never getting out of this lobby are we?" Erwin sighed as the two continued to chatter on. Levi and Erwin stared as Hange continued on about her car with a surprising amount of engagement from the other party. "You know they kind of remind me of you and-"

"Hey, Hange!" Erwin cut himself off as a brown haired girl that Levi instantly recognized hopped down each step, a bald boy following her. And Levi believed he remembered them from Y/N's stories as Connie and Sasha who he remembered from the party.

"Hange, what're you doing here?" He asked as the brown haired girl gave her a hug.

"My family owns the lodge so I brought Erwin and Levi for the break!" Hange said, pulling Connie into side hug that he immediately reciprocated.

"Oh god! Why didn't you tell me your plans for break? Jean would've driven all of us up here and you wouldn't have had to waste gas."

Hange just shook her head. "It's quite alright I was already out of gas so we just took the train up here."

"You didn't put gas in your car again?" Connie asked

"Wait, if you guys came then does that mean Y/N is here?" Hange asked completely dodging Connie's question.

At her name Levi bounced out of his seat. Almost launching himself into the spot next to Erwin. Pulling his hat over his eyes and sliding his back as far into the chair as he could.

"What's up with you?" Erwin questioned

"I embarrassed myself last time I was with Y/N.."

"What? Didn't she buy you cream like a month ago?"

"Y-yeah." Levi shimmied his feet together as he slid further down in his seat.

Erwin's chuckle next to him made him grimace. "I know you don't really get it Levi. But uh, making an ass out of yourself in front of your crush is the first real hurdle to knowing you've got it bad."

"Shut up.."

"It could've been worse.. You could've accidentally injured her. Or got caught by the loud mouth in your class while writing her first name and your last name in a notebook."

"Sounds like a personal story.." Levi replied, inching the hat off his eyes to look up at Erwin.

Erwin scoffed, "Point is it happens." He said with a roll of his eyes.

Levi let out a little snicker that instantly got caught in his throat. It had never occurred to him that he'd actually paid attention to the romance movies he'd seen a hundred times with his mother. But now that Y/N was walking down the stairs it was like a scene from all of those movies combined.

Her smile just as warm as always. Turtleneck sweater hugging her features along with dark blue jeans and brown boots. Each step felt slower than the last as if everything in this particular room had been put on the slowest speed imaginable.

The butterflies in his stomach swarmed like they were all chasing after one specific thing. Everytime she appeared somehow it was different.

"We're still going skiing today right?" Connie questioned as Y/N stopped on the last stair.

"If Jean's up to it sure." She replied, her cheeks flushed like she'd just walked in from outside.

"Well this is gonna be a fun weekend." Erwin said but Levi didn't even register his words. His heart stammering in his chest. "Go make a fool out of yourself." Erwin nudged

"Hey Jean! Come on!" Connie said

"Yeah, Jean I'm hungry!" Called Sasha

Levi's heart stopped, his chest crumbling in on itself. The same guy from before.. just as soon a loud crash sounded and everyone turned all at once.

"Oh god are you ok?!" Y/N was the first person by Hange's side followed by Moblit from behind the counter.

Hange let out a laugh, wincing as she pulled herself up with Moblit and Y'N's help.

"I'll be ok. Just took a little spill." She continued to laugh.

Erwin was soon standing by her side. "Are you sure, you're alright? Your face is super red.."

A momentary lapse in Hange's facial features made Erwin step back a little. "Shut up Erwin." She huffed

"You fell on your side. You should rest a little bit." Moblit said, coming closer. "Just.. in case."

"Ok.." Hange replied

Y/N seemed to relax at this information. Her gaze immediately falling on Levi surprisingly. He really hoped he didn't outwardly wince.

"Hi, Levi." She spoke plainly giving Erwin a small greeting as well before her, Connie, Sasha, and Jean were leaving the lobby.

Hange and Erwin unsurprisingly crowded into Levi's room about five minutes after the whole ordeal. But Levi couldn't even bring himself to wipe one thing down like he'd wanted to. He just laid still on the bed, eyes planted to the ceiling.

Surprisingly Hange had also stayed silent. Her eyes shut where she laid next to Levi.

"I can't believe you broke the handle on my luggage Hange." Erwin called still sat on the floor holding his luggage in one hand and the handle in the other. Pressing the broken part of the handle to his bag as if it'd be that simple to fix.

"Now what am I supposed to do?"

"It broke my fall Erwin. Be grateful."

"For what exactly?"

"I don't know!"

Levi blinked, his gaze falling on Hange for the first time since she took that spill in the lobby. Her hands were crossed over her stomach, thumbs rubbing the spot where she fell.

"Are you alright or not?" Levi questioned

"I'm fine."

"Ok, I know why Levi's upset but why're you?" Erwin chimed up

"What's Levi upset about?"

"What else? Y/N."

"Uggggghhh Levvviiiii why don't you just ask her out already?" Hange said

Levi sat up on the bed pulling his feet into his chest. Shoes long gone, pushed up against the wall as soon as they'd walked into the room.

"I'm not talking about this shit anymore this week."

"Levi, if we're staying here all of this week and next then chances are she's also staying here all week and next. Which means somewhere in here is a perfect opportunity to-"

"Get in her bed." Hange interrupted

"Or something less crass." Erwin suggested "You did pack condoms in your emergency undies bag right?"

"Did you pack a spare handle in yours?"

Hange's obnoxious laughter was almost loud enough to muffle the low knocks on the door. Her irritating jabs to Levi's shoulder quickly halting when Levi grabbed her fingers.

"Who is it?" Erwin asked, one hand on the door.

"It's Y/N.."

Now Hange stopped laughing. Erwin shrugged as he looked back at both of them before pulling the door open.

"Hey, here." Y/N sounded filled with fatigue as she handed over a small bottle to Erwin.

"Oh! Thank you! Where'd you get this?" Erwin smiled with delight immediately flopping back down next to his bag.

"Jean carries around extra strength glue because Connie always manages to break something fragile." Y/N replied "I doubt it'll work but maybe it'll help a little?"

Erwin nodded happily as Y/N turned to look at Hange. Her hands balled up and her fingers fidgeting where she was pulling at them.

"How's your rib Hange?"

"It's ok now, thanks for asking."

Y/N nodded and at this moment everyone in the room was looking at Levi who automatically felt extremely naked.

"Levi um.. can I talk to you? In the hall?"

Levi didn't know if he had nodded in his head or in real life but he was swiftly moving across the room. Passing Y/N where she stood and then holding the door open as she walked out just behind him. The door shut behind the two of them and if Levi felt naked before the feeling out here was somehow worse.

"What happened?"

Levi could hear the slightly muffled footsteps on the other side of the door and even a whispered Hange as Y/N spoke. His hands felt both too dry and wet all at once as he looked into her mildly menacing gaze.

"Wh- where wh-when.."

"You barely said anything to me after I brought the cream for your forehead. What happened? Did I do something wrong?"

Oh god how can she possibly assume that? Levi felt his stomach clench. He had never had it easy with text, which was why he pretty much always called everyone.

"I-I didn't mean.. it um.." He shuffled his feet a bit now remembering that he still had no shoes on.

Y/N sighed. "I wanna be your friend Levi. Please tell me you want that too."

With a deep breath he replied, "Call me."

"When?"

"Anytime.. I'm a bad t-texter.."

When her facial features softened Levi felt his shoulders finally sag for the first time since he'd heard her name in the lobby. "Ok.. oh ok, that's all it was? I thought I did something wrong. I'm glad we talked."

And Levi was barely registering her hands wrapping around his shoulders. Her body pressing oh so comfortably close to his. Hand sliding over his back, scent overwhelming his nose. And then just as soon it was all being taken away.

"I'll call you, ok?"

"Ok.." Levi's hand was still waving long after she'd already disappeared out of plain view.

"Oh god you're her friend!" Hange laughed the door suddenly yanked open behind Levi.

"It's as cute as it is sad." Erwin clicked his teeth.

"Tch, shut up." Levi stomped back into the room.

"Levi, you're in the friendzone!" Hange huffed as Erwin shut the door. "And if you don't get out of it. You're gonna be the short shoulder to cry on when some big dude with an invalid drivers license, a shit ton of tattoos and a porn addiction breaks her heart."

"That's oddly specific.." Erwin retorts

"All of you keep assuming I wanna be her boyfriend. I don't!"

Erwin rolled his eyes, "That tall guy that she was with actually. I think he'll be the guy who has her running to Levi's shoulder."

"Oh you mean Jean?" Hange nods "But they broke up a while ago."

"Then why is she still hanging out with him?"

"He's Sasha and Connie's best friend. So they've all known each other a while. They're a set, don't separate type deal."

"Then it's only logical that Y/N will marry Jean someday. You know if they all stay so close."

"Yup, definitely."

"You can both eat shit."

~~~~

Day one

Levi strained awake, blinded by the harsh sunlight stabbing his eyes through the uncovered window. He couldn't even remember when he'd fallen asleep last night but he could already tell it was too early for everyone else to be awake.

He could recall a couple things from last night. Hange overstaying her welcome in his room, Erwin suggesting that Hange pay for his fucked up luggage and somethings he would rather not think about.

Preferably the others joining in his room to discuss breakfast plans. At which Sasha had suggested the diner they had already planned to go to early in the morning. Levi's heart sank as he recalled Y/N's gorgeous smile directed to Jean who had stood behind her rubbing her shoulders and whispering in her ear.

He squeezed his eyes shut, standing from his bed and immediately working to straighten out the sheets before eyeing the book he'd unpacked last night.

Maybe he could get some reading done before Hange inevitably came to annoy him.

The one he was currently holding was of a dog wearing a big floppy hat in the mist of sunflowers. He quickly matched it with his black and white sweatpants. And with a small sigh he headed to the bathroom.

He thumbed at the spine of the book, sliding his finger between the pages to the current bookmark. A shower would probably be a better start to the morning though. He set the book down unzipping one of his bags and pulling out the first pair of clothing folded at the top. Levi hadn't remembered packing one of his mother's many silly birthday gifts to him. She had always bought him shirts with pictures on them that confused him.

He didn't even remember the last time he'd had a shower that was hot for more than five minutes. Or the last time he could look down at his feet without seeing a hair monster in the drain.

He took a couple extra minutes to completely wash his hair, combing his fingers through the strands before shutting off the water and quickly getting dressed.

As he reentered his room he remembered the random gaze Jean threw his way. The smirk on his lips, the taunting glare and then just as quickly it was over. And he was talking to her like nothing had happened.

Levi had never once in his entire life thought about having a girlfriend. It just wasn't something that absorbed his thoughts but he knew the second he saw that smirk on Jean's face what he wanted to be to Y/N.

He just couldn't imagine how.

His fluffy towel hugged his head as he popped open the book he'd discarded a couple minutes ago. He pulled his feet in closer to his body tracing the letters on the page, delving into the story-

"Levi!"

Two fucking seconds.. that had to be a new record.

A barrage of harsh knocks sounded outside his door and he yanked it open to see Hange standing there out of breath with a barely alive looking Erwin behind her. Excitement flooding her features as she pushed past Levi with Erwin in tow. A blue toothbrush almost falling from his lips.

"You couldn't let him finish brushing his fucking teeth?" Levi grunted, shutting the door behind the two of them. Erwin sighed his eyes shut, toothbrush dangling from his mouth. "Why're you here?"

"We're all going for breakfast remember?"

"Not for another thirty minutes." Levi narrowed his eyes and leaned back against the tv table.

Hange smiled, "Yup and that means we have enough time to figure out a game plan to get you and Y/N together by the end of today." Hange clapped excitedly though both Erwin and Levi couldn't possibly look less enthused.

"I don't need your help."

"Erwin, back me up here!"

"I'm not doing shit since you didn't let me spit and I had to swallow toothpaste." Erwin remarked, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Levi's face scrunched up and Hange let out a snort. "Why did you swallow it.. you could've just spit it out in the hall or something."

"That's fucking disgusting." Levi grunted

"Why the hell would I do that?" Erwin asked

"You're not supposed to swallow toothpaste duh!"

Everyone huffed all at once and Levi flopped down next to Erwin on the bed. "If I need any help I'll ask.." He mumbled already feeling heat fly to his cheeks.

"We're finally gonna get you a girlfriend Levi!!" Hange squeezed his body in a tight hug.

Just as Levi was about to push her away a couple of soft knocks sounded on his door again, "We're leaving a little earlier, hurry and come downstairs."

~~~~

Before the car had even pulled up back at the lodge Hange was already screaming about going skiing. Erwin had asked if Levi wanted to which he'd replied with a scoff.

"Really? Cause there are plenty of chances for Y/N to fall on you. Or you to fall on her." He shrugged.

Levi just rolled his eyes and at that Erwin gave up and now he was standing at the freezing cold railing watching everyone go down the stupid slope for what had to have been an hour or so. How'd he end up with bag watch? He didn't even wanna come outside.. He blew on his fingers trying and falling to warm them. At this point he felt exhausted, absolutely none of his clothes were keeping him warm.

With a sigh he pulled Hange and Erwin's bags up onto his shoulder along with Sasha and Connie's belongings. If he could manage to get upstairs he could warm up at least a little. A hot cup of tea practically beckoning him.

It took him only a couple seconds to realize he didn't have Y/N's bag. He looked around for a couple seconds. Did she bring a bag outside? Did he lose her bag?? He'd only left once to got to the bathroom. Did someone steal it.. Shit. He grumbled in disgust. Where could he have left it?

Feeling a bit panicked he headed towards the stairs. Blood running cold, his eyes practically bouncing out of his skull. His heart stopped at the display in front of him. Jean's hand on Y/N's waist as she leaned forward on the railing. Their lips pressed together..

(Hey Siri, play Heartbreak Anniversary by Giveon.)

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Strawberries On A Summer Evening

A soft imagine in which YN is one of the extras in the watermelon sugar music video and Harry can’t take his eyes off of her [2.2K Words] I hope you all enjoy this lovelies make sure to stream watermelon sugar! Masterlist

“And cut!” The director shouted, “That’s great ladies, go get yourselves some water and then we’ll go again in ten minutes. Harry can I run through a few things with you?” You made your way over to the table where bottles of water waited for you and the rest of the cast. There were spare slices of watermelon lying about, but you weren’t sure if you could face eating any more watermelon after the amount you had got through during filming. It was your first high profile job, the other music videos and projects you had been in were mainly for unsigned artists, so being in the Harry Styles’ music video was a pretty big deal. All the girls taking part were beautiful and so lovely to talk to, at first you had felt extremely out of your depth, but they had all gone out of their way to make you feel incredibly welcome.

“So we need a few more shots of you and the extras on the beach before we do the shots on the benches,” Blake, the creative director explained.

“Sounds wonderful, do you know who that girl is?” Harry replied, gesturing towards you as you spoke to a couple of members of the cast.

“Not sure, I think Lambert recommended her,” Blake told him, “We’ll be back on in five.” Blake walked off leaving Harry gazing at you, the sun capered over your skin, quite frankly Harry was in awe, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you during filming, he was bold enough to look right at you when he was singing, but you were yet to approach him. He didn’t want you to think he was coming on too heavy so he just left it, it wouldn’t exactly be a great first impression to ask for your number straight away, whether he was Harry Styles or not.

“Hey Lambert how's it going?” Harry asked his stylist as he approached him for an outfit change.

“Things seem to be shaping up well, I reckon your fans will go mad for this video.” He replied, handing Harry a new outfit, Harry Lambert had known Harry for a while now, and they were pretty close, meaning he could read him like a book, “But you didn’t come over here to ask me about that did you?” Harry looked up at his stylist with a confused look on his face, “You wanted to ask about YN didn’t you? The girl in the blue bikini.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked, pretty impressed by his friend’s skills of deduction.

“Many reasons, firstly you’ve literally been staring at her throughout the whole shoot, you’re even doing so now, secondly the way you bounded over here like a puppy with a look inyour eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time, and thirdly I had a bet with Blake that you would ask me about her.” Harry Lambert smirked, folding and putting away Harry’s outfit.

“If this stylist thing doesn’t go anywhere for you Lambert I recommend you become a private investigator.” Harry laughed at his friend.

“You are going to talk to her aren’t you?”

“What, now?” Harry asked.

“There’s no time like the present.”

Harry shuffled across the sand awkwardly to where you were sitting on a step reapplying sunscreen. “Is this seat taken?” Harry asked, gesturing to the space on the seat beside you.

“Help yourself,” you smiled, rubbing suncream up and down your arms.

“How are you finding the shoot so far?” Harry asked, leaning back on the steps, the warm breeze from the sea hitting both of your faces.

“It’s been good, everyone’s so lovely, I think I expected everyone to be strictly professional, but I’m having a lot of fun, this is my first video shoot for a signed artist you see,” You explained.

“Really? Well I heard you came highly recommended.

“Been talking about me have you Styles?” Harry felt put on the spot, you had only known each other for a few minutes and you were already keeping him on his toes.

“No, I um, well-” Harry stuttered, unable to think up a plausible excuse.

“I’m messing with you, the last artist I worked with knows your stylist, he sent him my portfolio and it went from there.” You assured him, he was different to most men you had spoken to before, yes he was as charming as the media said he was, but he was also clearly nervous, stumbling over his words and offering you small smiles every so often. “Nice sunglasses by the way.” You told him as you struggled to rub sunscreen into your back.

“Thank you, do you want me to help you with that?” Harry asked politely, clearly not wanting to overstep the mark.

“If you don’t mind.” You replied, he took the bottle from your hand, squeezing some of the cream into his hand before slowly rubbing it up and down your back, his hands felt strong against your back which sent shivers up and down your spine, he made sure to cover your shoulders too, gently rubbing the suncream along your shoulders, his fingers lightly dancing along your collarbone.

“I think that’s all done, wouldn’t want my leading lady getting burnt now would I?” Harry smiled, admiring how well your bikini complimented your figure, but he didn’t mention it because he had just rubbed sunscreen into your back, and any other sudden advances could be too premature.

“Leading lady eh? Can I put that on my resume?” You teased.

“I mean one of my leading ladies, you look wonderful, you all do,” Harry stuttered, you were having that effect on him again, when you looked at him whilst he talked all he seemed to do was trip over his words, “We should probably get back down to the set, they’ll probably call time on the break in a minute.”

Filming was resumed as you and the rest of the extras laid sprawled across picnic blankets, Harry in the middle of you all. As the director shouting action Harry’s eyes were on you, “Baby, you're the end of June, I want your belly and that summer feelin' getting washed away in you.” As he sang to the music blaring out of the surrounding speakers he couldn’t take his eyes off of you as the two of you lay opposite each other, he sang the words to you, there was no question about it, he was definitely singing it to you, you bit your lip in response, which ultimately sent shivers up Harry’s core. “Harry that’s great, keep working with that!” Blake called from behind the camera, “Yep Harry get closer to YN please, the camera is loving that!” Harry moved towards you, you adjusted your positioning so that his body was sprawled across her as he sang into the camera, and clearly neither of them had any complaints about the arrangement. Harry could feel your heartbeat and it was truly comforting, he could also smell the scent of your perfume that was a mixture of strawberry and vanilla, whatever it was he thought that it’s sweetness suited you perfectly.

Filming had come to an end and the sun was slowly setting over Malibu beach, most of the cast had already left, with flights to catch for other jobs, but you were still there, talking to a few of the other girls about your previous jobs, “Sorry to interrupt you ladies, could I possibly steal YN away from you?” He asked, you turned to look at you, the slight wind catching the ends of your hair, he thought your smile was beautiful, but the golden rays of sunlight made it even more so. “Did you have a good day today?” Harry asked as the pair strolled along the edge of the beach, the waves lapping up onto their bare feet as they walked.

“It was incredible, everyone is lovely, I really enjoyed it,” You smiled, he was a little bit taller than you, so you would glance up to talk to him, taking in every inch of him as you did.

“I hope you don’t think of me as overstepping the mark, but I’m inviting some friends back to my house for some drinks and some food, you are more than welcome to come.” Harry told you, somehow he had gained more confidence in talking to you since your conversation on the steps, well lying across someone’s chest is a pretty plausible reason to get closer to someone.

“See I could interpret that in one of two ways, either that’s you telling me you are having friends over and I could come, or that’s you indirectly asking me to come to your house.” You replied, running through the soft waves of the sea.

“Yeah, it would be the latter.”

Harry’s house was impressive, really impressive, it made your apartment look like a shoebox in comparison, but the company was what completed it. Harry’s friends were lovely,most of them were from the shoot, meaning their faces were familiar, you had been there quite a few hours and honestly Harry was fine with it, you slotted in with his friends perfectly, like you had known them all for ages. He made a conscious effort to check that you were alright and kept offering to top up your drink if you wanted him to. After a lengthy conversation with the group about the best ice cream parlours in Santa Monica you realised it was just gone 2AM and you should probably be getting back to your airbnb. You excused yourself from the conversation, making your way out into the grand hallway of Harry’s home, putting your shoes back on along with your denim jacket. “Leaving so soon?” You heard Harry say as he appeared in the doorway.

“It’s 2AM, and I have a job in less than six hours.” You explained, your head feeling weary as a result of the constant sun exposure mixed with the two glasses of wine.

“I could drive you if you like,” Harry offered, desperate to spend more time with you.

“You’ve had like five glasses of wine, do you want to get stopped by the police or something?” You replied, “I’ve already ordered an Uber.”

“Well will I see you again?” Harry asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?” Harry asked.

“Whether or not you ask me on a date.” You replied.

“Well, would you like to go on a date with me?” Harry asked, unable to hide the massive grin on his face.

“How does Friday sound?”

                                                       ***

And there you were, spending your Friday evening on a date with none other than Harry Styles. You were wearing a white summer dress, while Harry wore a yellow patterned shirt, buttoned halfway, being the hopeless romantic he was, he had taken you back to the beach where you first met, accompanied by a picnic that of course featured watermelon pieces and strawberries. “I’ve got a lot of memories on this beach you know.” Harry told you, admiring you as you dipped a strawberry in the melted chocolate.

“Is that so?” You smiled, glancing at the butterfly tattoo that poked through his shirt.

“Yeah, we filmed the band’s first music video here when I was like seventeen,on this very balcony,” he declared, gesturing at the beach house you were sat on, “and we filmed watermelon sugar here obviously, which is where I met you.”

“I like the last one the best,” you replied, but I can think of a new one that could trump it.” You replied.

“And what might that be?” Before he could say a word your lips were on his, taking each other in, the sweet taste of strawberries lingered on your lips as Harry kissed you softly, his hands wandering up and down your body, “You know something, I think that might be my new favourite memory sugar.” Harry whispered, pulling away from your kiss.

“Did you just call me sugar?” You giggled.

“Yeah, because you’re sweet like sugar.”

                                                       ***

“H baby, the fans are going mad for it!” You called from the kitchen, sat at a barstool at the kitchen island, four months had passed since your date and you and Harry had only got closer. The last few months had been a whirlwind, so much so that Harry had asked you to isolate with him, he got lonely easily, and the idea of living with you was enough to make lockdown pass quickly.

“They like it do they?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, kissing your neck softly, “What did your mum think of it?”

“I think she liked it, she said that her friends from work thought it was erm, interesting.” You giggled.

“I’m glad she enjoyed it sugar.” He replied, squeezing you tightly.

“I’m quite surprised she was so positive about it, considering it was basically a fully clothed orgy.” You laughed, holding onto his arms.

“Excuse me, it was a very tastefully executed orgy thank very much.” Harry told you, spinning the bar stool so that you faced him, “But what was your favourite bit sugar?”

“You, all of you.” You whispered, placing kisses along his jawline, “As lovely as it is reading what your fans think, how about I show you how it’s done.” You continued, knowing the feelings it would stir up in Harry, “Bedroom?” You muttered into his ear.

“Bedroom.” He replied, scooping you up into a bridal carry, trying to get you up the stairs to the bedroom quicker than you could say Watermelon Sugar High.

[cinnaminsvga]

🤬 | seokjin

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ frenemy!seokjin ft. e2l and the magnificent get-along sweater | 2K words → a/n: this is dedicated to my homie @jincherie​ who has been, as they say, wiping her ass everyday only to shit again. i can’t really do much to actually alleviate your circumstances except maybe making you smile, so i hope this can be your tiny ray of sunshine amidst the crap. this fic literally makes no sense because i wrote this within one hour so i’m sorry but pls know that ilysm!!

“Where’d you even fucking get this abomination?” you growl, struggling fruitlessly against the coarse fabric. In your fidgeting, your elbow knocks into Seokjin’s broad chest, causing more damage to your weak joints than anything. Even so, Seokjin grunts overdramatically, stepping on your toes in retaliation.

“Yoongi-chi, you know that I love you very much—” Seokjin seethes, his teeth clenched almost painfully as he fights to restrain himself from ripping the sweater in half, a la Hulk style. “—but I will not hesitate to stab you once I get out of here.”

“Not my fault that you both are acting like a bunch of toddlers,” Yoongi snorts, hip jutted out in contempt like the homosexual that he is. “And to answer your other question, I bought that sweater online after your last fight, when you two were literally wrestling on the kitchen counter. I didn’t know whether I walked into some intense BDSM play or a WWE ring.”

“You bought a fucking get-along sweater for us? What are you, some sort of Christian camp counselor?” you growl, kicking your legs out in an attempt to hit him. The slimy twink bastard jumps away gracefully, landing onto the loveseat opposite the couch that you were sitting on. He crosses his legs, opening his arms wide when your traitorous cat jumps onto his lap, looking to all the world like a terrible Bond villain from the 80s.

“If I was Christian, I would not put the two of you into a sweater together,” Yoongi says. He strokes your cat, who purrs loudly before pointing a contemptuous glare back at you, as if she was enjoying your torture too. Dumb cat. You never liked Miko anyway.

Yoongi continues, “Anyone would two eyes knows that you both are just one brawl away from fucking each other into the next dimension. Lord knows that your sexual tension could power the entire city.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to snort, who has been relatively quiet in comparison to you. He’s also less fidgety, but that might be because he at least has the advantage and comfort of occupying 90% of the sweater space due to his oceanic shoulders. You once described him as “horizontally imbalanced,” which he did not find slightly amusing.

“I would rather place my balls into a panini press and feed them to Miko than to ever fuck Y/N,” Seokjin fake-gags, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “It would be less hot for me to actually grill my penis than for me to sink into her hell-ish cunt. I swear, you could bake bread in there with how much yeast has accumulated from—“

You headbutt his chin before he can finish, squawking indignantly. The satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together in pain is momentary but worthwhile. “Excuse you, but it’d be an honor to fuck me! I’ve got that S-tier pussy! If my pussy was in a gacha game, people would spend thousands of dollars just to roll for my mystical coochie!”

Yoongi smirks. “So you admit that you do want Seokjin to fuck you!”

“What the fuck! No! That is—what the—I don’t!” You stammer, face flushing as you struggle to regain your footing in the conversation. Yoongi’s eyebrow raises, intrigued by your slip-up. “That is totally not what I meant, and you know it!”

Yoongi picks at his nails, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t speak hetero. Prithee, explain thy peculiar mating rituals to one who does not walk the straight and narrow path.”

You slump back against the couch, forcing Seokjin to follow and fall backward with you. His shoulder hits you square in the boob, causing you to groan in pain. “Yoongi, just let us out of this thing before I lose a limb to this walking inflatable tubeman,” you plead, ignoring Seokjin’s glare.

“I resent that,” Seokjin inputs, but no one pays him any mind. Your attention is focused solely on the smirking kitty man in front of you, who grows smugger as time ticks on.

Everyone in your friend group is aware of the weird relationship you have with Seokjin. Ever since you met him in your freshman year of university, things were never peaceful between the two of you. It was always constant bickering, squabbling, competing… everything. Even Jungkook, Seokjin’s other sworn enemy, doesn’t argue with the elder as much as you did.

For three years, everyone just assumed it was your weird kindergarten schoolyard way of showing affection for each other, and at the beginning, it might have been. You and Seokjin, both of whom have never dated in their lifetimes despite being moderately popular while growing up, are unsurprisingly emotionally stunted and never learned how to just be nice to people you like. Affection who? Compassion where? To the both of you, physical connection can only be achieved through hair tugging and nipple pinching, and not even in the sexy way.

But at a certain point, things were starting to get tiring. Your arguments only grew larger in scale, to the point where it was getting hard to differentiate whether the bruises on your neck were from pinches or something else.

“I just… Ugh… When are they gonna fuck, hyung? I’m actually getting tired of their constant fighting,” Namjoon had lamented one afternoon, just a day after your last altercation with Seokjin. It had been a big one, where Seokjin nearly lost a tooth when you had landed a neat uppercut squarely on his jaw after he called your toes ‘a foot fetishist’s worst nightmare.’

Yoongi’s boyfriend had been staring listlessly into his bowl of soup for the past hour, and he was honestly starting to get worried when it looked like Namjoon had started muttering to himself in a foreign language. Yoongi almost thought he might have been scrying for a prophecy, begging for an answer to their most pressing question.

“What do you want me to do about it? Lock them in a room and let them out only after they’ve done the deed? Mixed bodily fluids? Performed the monkey dance to its climax?! No thanks, I don’t wanna be near them when that can of worms finally explodes,” Yoongi grimaced, shivering at the thought.

Namjoon shook his head quickly, face paling with him. “Heaven forbid. Maybe you can keep it PG? How about getting one of those get-along sweaters or something. I think they used those in kindergarten.”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, but the question would be how I’d get them into it.” He flaps his noodle arms around in demonstration. “I’m not exactly in the running for world’s strongest twink. Plus, years of fighting each other means they’re both stronger than I am.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Easy, just dare them to wear it. Make it into a competition. Nothing gets them more riled up than when they’re trying to outcompete each other.”

And so, that’s how the two of you had gotten stuck in a 3XXL Hello Kitty sweater that Yoongi had bought from Ebay. It has yet to be decided whether spending $40 on expedited shipping was worth it.

“Look, Yoongi-chi. We both promise that we will stop fighting once you let us out of this,” Seokjin says, smiling sweetly at him. Had Yoongi been younger and much more prone to the alluring temptation of the Straight Man™️, he might have caved. But Yoongi is older now, plus he knows when Seokjin is lying better than any polygraph test.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving him off. “Fat chance. You’d probably stop fighting for approximately three hours before getting mad about mint chocolate ice cream or something.”

“Hey! Give us some credit. We both agree that flavor is abhorrent, so we would never argue about that,” you retort, with Seokjin nodding furiously in agreement. You glance at him. “And I feel like we’d last at least six hours without fighting. What was our record again?”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Seokjin says.

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, I can promise at least five hours and thirty minutes. Maybe.”

Yoongi groans, rubbing his temples in frustration. His souring mood even makes Miko jump away in fright, and the two idiots trapped in a sweater can immediately feel the dip in temperature. Uh oh, here we go!

“I am absolutely sick and tired of the two of you dumbasses fighting all the time! It’s embarrassing as hell trying to bring either of you anywhere in public because everyone mistakes your little catfights for strange foreplay or whatever,” Yoongi glowers. The two of you shrink into your seats, ashamed.

“We’ve only gotten kicked out of one Costco—” Seokjin defends. 

“But we did get fined for public indecency at the beach when I pulled your trunks down, which was totally unfair, by the way,” you mutter. 

“You literally threatened to, and I quote, ‘Suck the soul out of Seokjin’s dick until he dies.’ How the hell is that unfair?!” Yoongi exclaims. 

“It was a death threat! I would’ve accepted a charge for attempted murder, but that was not going to be a sexy blowjob, I assure you—”

Yoongi holds up a hand to silence you. “Face it, you both like each other. Whatever! Sure, you guys are the token straight people in our friend group, but that doesn’t make you bland as hell! Well, actually, it does but…” Yoongi pauses, wondering if it was worth lying. It takes a second for him to refocus. “Where was I? Oh right—“

Yoongi clears his throat, starting again. He heaves a deep breath, shoulders sagging tiredly as he puts on the sincerest face he can muster. “Listen, I just want to say that I care a lot about you, okay? And it sucks seeing the both of you hurting every time the other person says something really mean that neither of you even mean! If anything, will you please stop for me? If you really cared about our friendship, will you do it for me?”

There is a heavy pause as Yoongi strives to get his breathing back in check, his impassioned speech causing his fragile grandpa heart to race. He can feel his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, unused to using his “hyung voice” on Seokjin or you. Separately, the two of you are very reliable, never really needing him to scold either of you. Together, however… that’s a different story, but as the next eldest hyung, it really only fell to Yoongi to fix his friends’ mess of a relationship.

Screw age hierarchy. Yoongi would love to see Jungkook try to get Seokjin and you to fuck. Would absolutely pay to see the twerp squirm as he tries to even say the word “penis.”

After a while, Seokjin and you share a look. Yoongi watches with bated breath as he waits for either of you to speak, but he can sense some unspoken conversation happening between you. Perhaps, after years of exchanging blows, you had somehow knocked brain cells into each other and now share a weird psychic connection. Or, more likely, the two of you actually like each other and understand each other on a deeply personal level, so personal in fact that you could probably finish each other’s sentences, like—!

“We refuse,” you both reply in tandem, your joined voices echoing throughout the apartment. You both had said it so in sync that Yoongi might have imagined the other person speaking, but no—you both really did just say that to his face. In front of Miko. In front of his goddamn imaginary salad.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi squeaks. He cleans his ears with his fingers but finds no cotton there. These bitches! How dare they just throw his speech to the gutter! That shit took brain cells to think of, and he is not in the business of wasting his precious minutes by using them for productivity.

You shrug, leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder. He can see the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s confusion. “You heard us. We’ve made the executive decision to double our efforts, actually.”

Seokjin nods, not even shoving you off his shoulder like he normally would whenever you made contact with him. What? “Exactly. Honestly, we’ve been fighting for so long that we’ve kinda been just doing it for the bit at this point, and the fact that it annoys you so much is just the icing on the cake.”

Yoongi stares at them. His brain doesn’t feel like it’s connecting to his body at all; he feels like he’s floating. “So. What you’re saying is—“

“We know we like each other. Whatever. But we also like fighting, so who gives a shit if we’re having fun at the end of the day?” you shrug, pinching Seokjin’s cheek for good measure. As per usual, the elder retaliates by grabbing your finger with robot-like accuracy, before biting you there like a ravaging beast.

“And before you ask, no, we aren’t really dating. Yet. We kinda just wanted to piss as many people off before actually becoming official. We honestly didn’t think that you’d be the first one to crack.” Seokjin says, your finger falling from his mouth. The imprint of his teeth marks on your skin are plain as day, but you don’t look remotely bothered by it. In fact, you’re practically cooing at his ‘baby teefies’ like a psychopath.

“I—“ Yoongi stutters, at a loss for words for once in his life. He stands from the chair, but his knees give out from under him, causing him to tumble to the carpeted floor. He holds his head in his hands, shell-shocked. “So… That means…”

“Yeah, we’re kinda just freaky, I guess.” You muse before laughing hysterically when Yoongi begins to sob. “Hey, you’re right! We did make Yoongi cry! Do you think we could make Namjoon piss himself in rage when he finally confronts us too?”

Seokjin cackles, shaking your hand underneath the sweater. “If anyone can do it, I know that we can.”

And so, the two of you stand up clumsily to your feet, not bothering to escape the ridiculous sweater as you both waddled out of Yoongi’s apartment. From outside his door, Yoongi hears the sound of a new fight commencing, your shrieks resonating down the hall and for all the world to hear.

[sirtwentyofhousegoodmen]

Arcturus at Orion's birth plz

July 5th, 1929

"Papa!"

Arcturus shifted his gaze from the newspaper to the four year old girl sat on his lap, who looked up at him, beseechingly.

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you read me a story?"

Arcturus rolled his eyes heavenward, and before he could tell the little hoyden to go bother her mother for one, he was hit with the reminder that Melania was rather occupied birthing his son at the moment.

He sighed—he'd come to his study to hide from his blasted uncles, cousins and siblings, all eagerly awaiting news of the Black heir's arrival with champagne and cigars, a noticeably more jovial celebration than there was at Lucretia's birth. No wonder, as Phineas Nigellus was no longer there to scream at everyone for their shortcomings.

Knowing that Lucretia inherited his strong will, and not having the energy to send her away after being awake for the past twenty hours, he begrudgingly put down his newspaper and, with a lazy swish of his wand, plucked an old storybook out of the bookcase.

"Just this once, Lucretia Black," He warned her, "Your father hasn't the time for such nonsense—so don't get any ideas about this being a regular occurrence."

Lucretia nodded, black curls bobbing up and down with each motion, and leaned back down onto his chest, waiting for him to begin.

It was one of Melania's books that she'd left in his study—they often took lunch there together, though rather than engage in conversation, an activity neither really favored, husband and wife preffered to read in each other's companionable silence.

It seemed innocuous enough—besides, it wasn't as if he could read Lucretia the tome he'd just acquired on Egyptian blood magic.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Arcturus raised his eyebrows at that, then nodded in approval at the statement. This was precisely the sort of thing an impressionable young girl like Lucretia should be reading.

As he continued, his voice grew softer and softer, owing to Lucretia's slowing breaths and drooping eyelids, but also to the fact that he was growing rather invested in the plot himself. He would never read this womanish dreck if Lucretia weren't here of course, but it was decently written, all in all.

The sound of the study door creaking open made Arcturus stop, but before he could look up to see who'd disturbed them, Lucretia said the last thing he wanted her to say at that moment.

"Burgie!!"

The girl in question darted into the room, a blur of black curls and white lace that Irma had trapped her in from head to toe.

Pollux's daughter was a terror. She looked innocent enough: all neat black curls and bright blue-grey eyes, but she was constantly running circles around her parents, and there wasn't an order in the world she couldn't flagrantly disobey. Unfortunately for him, Lucretia had taken to her cousin from the first—the girls were practically inseperable. In the first three years, it was often quite difficult to tell them apart—though now their faces were taking their own distinct shapes.

"Where were you, Lucy?" Walburga asked, her arms crossed and her face a mask of supreme churlishness.

"I found Papa," Lucretia said, as if the fact was a complete justification. "He's reading me a story."

Walburga turned her—far too sharp—gaze to him, and pouted. "I want to hear the story."

Arcturus's first reaction was a strong no—but then he realized that word didn't exist in Walburga's vocabulary, and if he were to introduce her to it now he'd be getting an earful from both her and her shrew of a mother.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. "I hate my life," he muttered to himself.

Walburga seemed to take that as a 'yes', as she climbed atop the couch and burrowed herself into his other side. Without a clue as to what to do, he just gaped at her nerve while she smiled up at him, looking damn near catlike.

"Go on, Cousin Arcturus," He narrowed his eyes at the cheeky, yet accurate form of address. The chit was good, he'll give her that. "Read!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you speak to your father that way, young lady?"

"Yes."

Arcturus blinked, then snorted. "Fair enough. But I'm not your father, so you'll take care to watch your tone when you speak to me."

She sighed, sulkily. "Yes, Cousin Arcturus."

Giving her a final stern glance, he put his focus back into the book and read until the two girls' breaths grew slow, and their eyes closed. Finally seeing they were asleep, he made to get up, then came to a crushing realization.

The bloody chits had him pinned to the infernal sofa.

Sighing, he made to lift Lucretia off of his left side but the girl had her arms firmly wrapped around his middle, and any sort of strong movement would have woken her—and in turn Walburga.

Turning to Walburga, he debated the merits of whether or not to pry her off him as well. On the one hand, she wasn't his (she'd be a damn sight less impudent if she were) and he did not want to be any more familiar than he already was . On the other hand, he was the official head of the family and he'd be damned if he was going to miss his son's birth over a sleeping hoyden.

Thankfully, the debate ended when the study door creaked open and Pollux came in, a sheen of sweat on his forehead—he'd never taken to cigars that well—and a glass of champagne in hand, beaming.

"Arcturus, it's—"

"Can you get your blasted daughter off me before you say what you have to say, Pollux?"

Pollux' seemed to take notice of his other companions and their state, as his eyes widened and he promptly put down his cigar and champagne flute on the table nearest them, and in one swift motion lifted up his daughter into his arms.

"Apologies, Arcturus," Pollux said, lightly rubbing a mildly fussy Walburga's back as she settled into her new position. "She can be a bit of a handful sometimes, our Burgie."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow in dissaproval at the look of pure adoration on his cousin's face at his daughter. First Irma, now Walburga—he was starting to get the feeling that Pollux actually liked his women impertinent.

How droll.

"Yes," he answered instead, "She certainly can. Anyhow, what is it you wanted to tell me, seeing as you've seen fit to come into my study?"

Pollux remembered himself then, and his bright smile was back. "Yes, of course—Congratulations are in order, old boy: You have a son."

Arcturus felt a wave of astonishment come over him, leaving him wide-eyed and dazed. "He's here?"

Pollux nodded. "Yes—Irma told us all that Melania's waiting for you upstairs."

Without another word in his cousin's direction he stood up, lifting Lucretia up with him, and all but ran upstairs, past all the well-wishers no doubt using his son's birth as an excuse to get plastered in the drawing room.

A son, an heir, a true heir! Ha!—Arcturus hoped that Phineas Nigellus had a good view of his triumph in hell, he wanted to see that old bastard eat his words.

The House of Black already had a male heir—Alphard's birth, though met with distinctly less fanfare since Melania's pregnancy had been announced by then, had been two months ago and his uncle Cygnus had not stopped crowing since. But this was different—Arcturus had an heir now, his own heir. A son to carry on his name and his legacy, a son to shape into a fine young man and to teach what it meant to be a proper black.

He reached the same oak door he'd gone through four years ago, and grabbing the handle, pushed it open.

Melania was on the bed, her face pale and drawn, and the healer beside her had his face set in a frown. Arcturus approached the man, the feeling of Lucretia’s hands around the back of his neck growing tighter.

“Is she alright?” He asked, without preamble.

“Ah, Mr. Black,” The rotund man took off his comically tiny, fogged-over pince-nez, cleaning them with his handkerchief. “Yes, I assure you—Mrs. Black is doing perfectly well, as is your son. The birth was rather strenuous on her, I’m afraid.”

“How strenuous?”

The man grimaced. “She’ll be perfectly fine—but I wouldn’t advise having another for at least a few years. I don’t think her body could take it.”

Arcturus furrowed his brow, shocked. “What? She did perfectly well with Lucretia.”

“The boy was larger than Lucretia,” The healer said, as if he were indulging a dim-witted child, which only served to raise his hackles. “Combined with the birth being four times longer, it’s no wonder she’s unwell. Rest assured, she’ll be perfectly fine with some bed-rest, and in a few years, if you still want another, we can certainly discuss what paths we could take on that front.”

Before Arcturus could convey his supreme outrage at being spoken to in such a way, the jolly man had the audacity to give him a pat on the back, and direct him to the crib where they’d put his son. Gingerly, he put Lucretia onto a chaise in the corner of the room, and approached the crib with trepidation.

When he caught sight of his son, he felt the breath leave him.

The boy was his mother’s spitting image—brown hair, large, owlish eyes, and pudgy red cheeks. The only feature he’d inherited from his father were those classic steely gray eyes that most Blacks were blessed with.

Carefully, he lifted him from his crib, and positioned him properly in his arms. The boy stirred, before wiggling a bit more and turning his new eyes up to peer at his father.

His son. His son.

Arcturus had never felt more proud in his life. All the tests, the trials, every single accomplishment in his life paled in comparison to this one. His son was the totality of all his efforts, the ultimate triumph.

But there was something else. Something more.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of Melania’s stirring from the other side of the room, and, remembering himself, he approached her with their son in tow.

“Remember, Mr. Black, she’s too weak to hold him at present—I’d advise keeping a safe distance.”

Arcturus gave the man a glare, and he rightly looked cowed, excusing himself and all but running from the room. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he looked over at his wife, who was just beginning to wake.

“Arcturus?” She asked, her voice tired and muddled.

"I'm here, Melly," He told her, taking his free hand and using it to wipe off the sheen of sweat that had gathered on her forehead.

Melania opened her eyes, blearily, and when she looked over at him with their son, gave them both a shaky smile. "How is he?"

"Perfect," Arcturus replied, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life. "He's perfect—your spitting image."

"Really?" She peered over at his face. "I rather thought he took after you."

"He has my eyes," he told her, bringing their boy closer. "The rest is all yours."

She sighed. "Is he right? I can't have any more?"

Arcturus blinked. The healer had told him she might very well have another in a few years, but they'd told his mother the same. He didn't want to risk it—wizards had not perfected the art of childbirth and h wasn't about to take her to a muggle so he could cut her open like some fish.

The thought of Melania on the bed, like mother, covered in pustules, soft, sweet voice meant for songs gone wheezy and delirious—No. No, he wasn't going to let that happen. He couldn't let that happen.

"Yes," Arcturus said, decision made. "It's not safe for you. We won't be having anymore."

Her face turned doleful then. "Oh."

They sat in a sort of awkward silence then while Arcturus kept smiling down at their son, until it was broken by the sound of a slight sniffle.

"I'm sorry."

Arcturus started at the words, then turned to meet his wife's eyes, which had become wet with tears.

"What?" He asked, mildly annoyed at the fact he had to deal with womanish drama today of all days.

"I failed you. I can't give you more children—what kind of a wife am I?"

Melania's face seemed to be a mixture between dawning horror at the fact that she'd failed in her duties and genuine sadness that she'd never experience what it was like to hold another baby of hers in her arms again.

Arcturus moved to cut off the stream of tears before it became too much for either of them.

"You've given me an heir, and a daughter," Arcturus pointed out, voice measured. "There's nothing else expected of you."

"You should have more," She said, shaking her head, her breaths growing shorter. "I wanted more." The last sentence was spoken in a kind of hushed tone.

"More are not worth your health, Melania." Arcturus groaned, was she truly under the impression she'd failed him? Had he ever intimated he wanted a house full of little rapscallions running about? He didn't—two was more than enough.

"That's not—"

"It is, and it is the final word we will have on this subject." Arcturus sighed. "You will not die, Melania. Not for one more son, nor for ten. You, Lucretia, and the boy are all I need. You are all..." he cleared his throat, uncomfortably, "...more than I could ever deserve. I have an heir—Now, all that matters is you and the children. Nothing more."

Melania looked at him, flabbergasted at how candid he'd gotten, before nodding, still dumbstruck. "As you say."

Arcturus pretended not to notice her smile of relief, nor the overly loving way she was looking at him.

Those emotions made him...uneasy.

"Orion," Melania said, thought it came out as half a question. She elaborated at Arcturus's raised eyebrow. "I was reading a book on Black names when I went into labor. The one I liked best was Orion—I thought to bring it to you to see if you approved."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised that his slip of a wife had gathered the nerve to put forth a name herself. Orion...Yes, it was a good name. A strong name—The Hunter. One of the only good memories he had left of his father had been sitting in his study, asking him to point out all the names of the stars enchanted into the ceiling—Orion had always been his favorite.

"Orion Arcturus Black," Arcturus said, nodding in approval. "A good name, Melly. I approve."

Melania beamed—though she promptly grimaced.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" She nodded. "Not to worry—I'll find that fat old man and order him to give my wife as much pain potion as she damn well wants."

He gave her a kiss to the forehead. "She deserves it."

[yuzukult]

effortlessly (m) || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut (poorly written, don’t come @ me) words: 4.5k warnings: this chapter contains smut. a/n: i wrote this on wattpad like months ago (unfinished) but i was kinda sad bc you can see the view count so i decided to finish it here and spruce it up since tumblr lessens my insecurities lol also, i decided to make this my first series (a five part(?)) series!!! note: jungkook & reader are 18+, seniors in high school. series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

"Alright, pick your partners!" Your P.E. teacher exclaims, clapping her hands to quicken the students' pace to get started. Jungkook beams at you with a smile before giving you a nudge into your arm. "Let's be partners, it'll be more fun this way!"

"Okay, okay," You unwilling agree, crouching down before falling on your bottom. You bend down and motion Jungkook to hold down your feet so you can start doing the sit-ups. Leaning over, he sits on his knees then wraps his soft, gentle hands around your ankles. "Go."

Oddly enough, this wasn’t the first time when you began to notice things about Jungkook that made him seem... more and more like a man. It was so strange – he'd been your childhood friend, so in your eyes, he was still that innocent little boy who played house and leap frog with you outside in the backyard. His shirt was snug around his arms that were flexed from holding down your ankles, hair ruffled from the wind blowing, and his jawline was especially sharp in comparison to the roundness his head was in his younger years.

You gulp. Hands crossed over your chest, touching your shoulders, you move your upper body up and down continuously, trying to avoid his gaze. "Why are you looking away, weirdo?" He chuckles, head tilting in confusion. "Uh, no reason."

"You're not afraid that you might accidentally kiss me, are you? Like we're in some k-drama?" Jungkook raises a brow, stopping you in the midst of a set. "What?" Your head shoots to his direction.

"Come on, we've kissed before, this is nothing."

"How about we be each other's first kiss." Jungkook suggests, tapping his toes on the floor anxiously. You were both in your early teen years, sitting on his bed side by side as you've always done, discussing about how your classmates were starting to get their first kisses and you personally were afraid of not being able to get one soon enough. "I mean, you mentioned that you were scared, right? You said it yourself that you don't think you’d get the opportunity any time soon. I can give you mine, and you can give me yours. It'll be perfect." You bite your bottom lip, feeling something churn deep in your stomach when he turns to look at you. "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay with that." Jungkook cups your cheeks with both his hands, and you felt your ears turning hot. Closing your eyes, you feel him scooting closer when his heavy breathing hits your face. Pursing up your lips, you feel his lightly meet with yours before he pulls away with the cheekiest grin.

"What—stop saying stuff like that in public. People will stare." Glaring at him, you wrinkle your brows in slight annoyance. "I'm not in the mood to get attacked by some crazy fangirls around here."

"Hey you! Why are you stopping? Chop chop!" The teacher proclaims toward you, and fearfully, you quicken your pace in compliance.

"Crazy fangirls?"

You move hastily as your form starts to mess up before you stop then stand, ignoring his response. "Your turn." Jungkook switches positions with you without argument, except you sit horizontally from him and on his feet. "You didn't answer my question. What do you mean by crazy girls?"

"I don't know? You're like a pretty boy kdrama lead type of guy. The girls here think they're the leads, and you're their romantic interest." He slows down his sit-ups and observes your expression. "Kdrama-lead? Pretty boy? What are you saying?"

"Think about it. How many girls have confessed to you in the span of a week? You're telling me that you don't notice these things?"

One of Jungkook's friends, Hoseok, jumps on his back eagerly to gain his attention then messes up his hair. "Come on, little guy, let's grab some lunch!" He grins from cheek to cheek, tugging him along with the rest of their group. "Oh, um, Jungkook," a soft voice speaks; Jungkook and his friends freeze, directing their attention to the girl standing before them. "Yes?"

Her hands were full of gifts – a bag with treats and a flower inside, a small carton of chocolate milk, and a letter stamped with hearts and doodles all over it. "This is for you," She says with her head down and arms extended to give him her confessions. "Aw, sweet! What's the occasion?"

"Oh—I—"

"Come on guys, I'm starving!" Someone shouts from the back, pushing Hoseok and Jungkook to move forward as the latter waves goodbye to the girl with a smile on his face while he grabs the items from her hands. "Thanks for the gifts!"

"Hah, there's no way," Jungkook retorts, sitting up from the workout before clicking his tongue in attempts to retrieve the memory of the girl's confession. "Okay, but what about the other girl from Tuesday?"

"Tuesday?" He looks at you questioningly. "What about Tuesday? There was a girl?"

"You don't remember?" You slide yourself off of his feet, and settle yourself on the dirt across from him. "That girl, the one who recently dyed her hair blonde. She bought you breakfast and gave you that little note in the bag. Did you even read that note? Did you even read the other girl's note?"

Jungkook looks up, trying to recall back to the moment. "I really don't remember seeing any of this. There was a note?"

"Ah, so you didn't read any of the notes. They were all confession letters."

"Confession letters? People still do that?" He lets out a chuckle before getting up, and brushing the dirt off his pants. "We're in high school, I thought that was something people left behind in middle school."

"I think it's kind of romantic," You shrug, and Jungkook offers his hand out for you and you accept, standing and dusting off your shorts as well. "But it is kind of sappy. You can't blame them though, these dramas are setting too high of standards for these people. Either way, you should tell them whether or not you reciprocate feelings. Are you really that oblivious?"

"Reciprocate feelings?" Jungkook crosses his arms before he continues, "They should know that you're the only girl in my life." 

What?

"Yeah, but I'm your friend, not your romantic partner." Jungkook lets out a sigh before he runs his hands through his hair, and you’re suddenly wishing you were the one doing it. "Okay, fine. But help me, I don't know how to let them down easy."

You were neighbors since the beginning of your lives, and didn't know of any friend that you both have known longer than each other. There were weekends where you would sleepover at each other's house, play games, watch movies, and eat junk food. It was almost a ritual – something the two of you do on a bi-weekly basis that it was never questioned by either of your parents. There was a level of trust that was established; he was welcomed to your house, and you were welcomed in his.

You're not sure when it started, these weird emotions you began to feel towards Jungkook. He was always the same annoying, overly excited, lazy guy. You didn't think you liked him in that way but there was this weird fuzzy feeling you had every time he smiled, or whenever he would blurt something flirtatious, even though you knew he was joking. You've seen him at his worst—room filled with trash of wrappers from candy, empty bags of chips, half drunk bottles of soda and water, and his clothes, dirty and clean, mixed in his room as if a tornado hit. But you had also seen him at his best, competing at his swim meets against the biggest names in the nation and locally combined, and during his practices where he’d still show the same persistence and motivation. Jungkook wanted to become a professional swimmer, and his ambitions were something you had always been supportive of and found admiring. He always left you questioning what your goals were, and how you were going to get there.

Jungkook snaps his fingers in front of your eyes before sitting down on the bench in front of you with his lunch. "What are you thinking of so deeply? Or are you staring at that guy over there?" He questions, tilting his head curiously.

"Oh, sorry, I just got caught up in my thoughts." You shake your head at the thought of having feelings for him before grabbing your chopsticks and digging into your lunch. "You're not thinking about the girl that just confessed to me in the lunch line, are you?"

"Wait—what? Again?"

"Yeah," He says, reaching into your lunch to steal a bite of some of your side dishes. "She was telling me how she thought that you liked me but since you never really tried confessing, this could be her opportunity to ask me out. I like that women these days are taking the initiative. Girl power," Jungkook pumps a fist up before poking through your lunch again. You slap his hand again and grimace. "Circling back to the main topic... So what did you say in return?"

"I told her to be patient and that you'd ask me out."

You choke on some rice, coughing as you grab the water that Jungkook hands over to you and chugging it down. "You told her I was going to ask you out?"

"Remember this morning? I said that you're the only girl in my life."

You couldn't help but think about what he said for the rest of the day. You're the only girl in my life. Groaning, you slide your arms on your desk with your hands in your hair, tousling it in slight frustration. He couldn't keep saying things like that; it made your heart flutter.

"Hey," A classmate, Yura, turns around in her seat in front of you, tapping your arms that were covering your face. She was a friend you made several years back, now coincidentally having the same classes as you. "What?" You mutter, peeking in between your palms. "I heard another girl confessed to Jungkook again during lunch." You sigh, letting your hands fall back onto the desk. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well," Yura starts, pushing her seat back to move closer to you. She's sitting backwards in her chair  with a bright smile spread on her face. She loved to bother you in every way possible but beside that, she was equally of a great friend as Jungkook had been to you. "I'm curious as to why he hasn't dated anyone yet. No one here sparks an interest?"

"Well," You mimic her with a laugh trailing afterwards. "Are you hoping you can spark an interest?" She waves her hand and shakes her head, dismissing the assumption. "Oh, no no, I'm just curious. He just seems like the type to want to date around but he won't even glance at a girl. Is he gay?" 

You pull out a notebook from your bag when you notice your teacher walking into the classroom, rolling your eyes at her comment and nod your head to gesture the teacher's presence. "He mentioned before he wanted to focus on just becoming a swimmer. Maybe that's it."

"Okay fine, fine, I'll drop it. Anyway, let me come over today! I've been dying to try that new candy you bought from that store downtown. I haven't been recently..."

Later that day, on your walk to your house with Yura, she stops in her tracks and drags you aside to hide behind a tree. "What—"

"Hush!" She spits, peeping out from the side as you wipe her saliva that sprayed on your face. "Disgusting, Yura. What are you looking at?" She tugs on the sleeve of your uniform and you both sneak a look from behind the tree. "It's Jungkook. Who is that girl?"

You see him opening the gates in front of his house with a female, who looks around your age, tracking behind him as he readily unlocks the front door to his house. She looked pretty – although that was presumption since you didn't really know what her actual features were other than from behind. But her hair was lusciously long, and she had a petite body, appearing to be Jungkook's ideal type. You haven't seen her before, so who was she? He never really had any female friends other than you. "Guess he brings girls home after all."

The two of you quickly make way to your house, rushing up the stairs as your mom shouts at you from the kitchen. "Stop running! You're going to slip in your socks!"

Yura already had her backpack dropped at the door of your bedroom, peering through the window as she bends down below the windowsill's height. "Look! She's in his room." You had a perfect view of Jungkook's bedroom from your own. Sometimes you'd catch yourself looking at him changing his shirt, or doing his homework. There were moments where that's where he'd be able to contact you if your phone died, too.

"I'm not looking," You respond, grabbing her stuff from the floor and placing on an unoccupied chair. "That's an invasion of privacy, Yura."

"They're talking," She commentates, ducking below at times when either of them face her direction. "What are they saying? What do you think they're saying?"

You walk toward Yura before pulling the blinds down and it hits her fingers. "Ah! What was that for?"

"Stop spying, Yura!" In all honesty, you just couldn't bring yourself to see him be with some girl, especially if she's been in his room. "They could be doing some intimate stuff. Are you trying to get free porn? Do you not have that at home?" She groans in return, falling back onto the floor. "I really wanted to see something juicy."

"Let's lose our virginity to each other," Jungkook proposes, fiddling with his fingers, trying to evade your gaze. "Eventually, we're going to have to do it with someone, but our firsts... wouldn't it be more comfortable with each other?" It was around 8pm, and Yura had already gone home. Jungkook threw a pebble at your window to gain your attention so you could come over to “talk.” He said it was urgent. This was urgent?

"You're not a virgin?" You let slip from your lips. "Sorry, I just... I assumed that you already gave yourself to someone because I saw someone in your room earlier."

"You peeked through my window?" He cocks a brow, finally locking eyes with yours. Your face was flushed in embarrassment, lips pink and slightly swollen from chewing on it so anxiously and hair unkempt from the friendly rough play with each other before. Jungkook knew he made jokes here and there about how you were the only girl in his life for him but he truly met it. He always had lingering feelings for you, but he was afraid of getting rejected then losing the friendship between the two of you.

"Accidentally," You lie, falling back onto the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "I'll be honest. I thought you slept with her. I thought you slept with a lot of girls."

"I'd tell you. Even if you didn't want to hear. I feel like I can't hide those things from you." He interjects, lying back onto the bed beside you, turning his head to observe your expressions. "I want to lose my first time to you."

"Wouldn't it be weird?" You turn to meet your eyes with his, tapping your fingers together restlessly. "You'd see me naked. It'll change the entire view of our friendship."

"That could never happen — negatively, I mean."

It didn’t take much convincing when it came to Jungkook. You’d do anything for him and likewise. He never failed to go above and beyond for you, extending his hand whenever you needed it. And you? Well, you felt the same way. "Then... okay. Let's do it."

It was just another Saturday night, where you'd plan to stay over at Jungkook's for a marathon of a kdrama the two of you found interest in recently. There were snacks and drinks in his room, and he brought the bedsheets, blankets and pillows onto the floor to get closer to the small TV monitor he had in his room. You both sat at an arms distance, and you were hugging one of the pillows while you were throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth before you hear the door creek open and his mom peers in. "Another movie night?" She asks with a smile, handing Jungkook a plate of cut-up watermelon. He nods and thanks his mom before she closes the door with a goodnight.

"Ah, she's so nice. She knows I love watermelons the most." You comment, drinking some water to clear your palette before reaching for a slice. Taking a bite, juices spill out of your mouth, signaling with your hands to get Jungkook to get you a napkin as you shove the rest into your mouth. He gives you a napkin but doesn't let go, leaving his hands in yours. Furrowing your brows, you manage to say with cheeks filled with watermelon, "What are you doing—" Jungkook was already leaning in, licking the spill. He traces it with his lips before meeting with yours, moving in closer with his free hand on your waist.

What is he doing? You felt gross. A wash of emotions flush through your face when you realize you're not dressed for this. Was he trying to do your first time now? And how? Your hair was loosely tied up in a bun, wearing a baggy hoodie with some shorts that you quickly grabbed from one of your drawers. You felt so insecure. You didn't even have makeup on — at least if you did, you wouldn't look so... average. Jungkook was handsome, sexy, and cute. But when you saw yourself in the mirror, you couldn't even call yourself beautiful or ugly... just average. Was Jungkook going to lose his virginity to someone who didn't even look at anything he would want to remember?

You didn't move. He took the lead for a couple moments before reclining back, bumping his forehead with yours, lips swollen from the tugging of the kiss. "I think... tonight is the night. Can we do it tonight?"

"I don't really feel... attractive enough right now." You confess after swallowing the remains of the fruit. "Trust me," He says between his breaths that seemed a bit heavier. "You're attractive right now." Letting go of your hand, he leans against his bed on the floor before lifting you from your waist to straddle him. "It feels effortless this way."

Moving closer, you try to sit down completely on him, hands confusingly trying to find a placement before he grabs them and guides you to wrap them around his neck. He groans, raising your hips slightly to lose contact with his. "Sorry, I'm kind of hard and it hurts when you press down that hard," He reveals, ears brimming in red. You immediately back away before he brings you back closer. "Sorry—"

"Don't be sorry," Jungkook says before pulling you into another kiss, hands gripping onto your thighs before maneuvering them up and down your legs. You slowly reiterate his motions, opening your lips slightly for him to slip his tongue in. Your fingers comb through his hair before he pulls away for a moment, panting uneven patterns compared to yours. "My hormones are raging, and your shorts are just really short. You're not even wearing a bra," He states as his hands begin to roam around your bottom before he slides them underneath your hoodie to feel your bare skin. "You're beautiful." Oh, that made my stomach feel weird.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, planting delicate kisses, following a suck and a nip afterwards that made you feel slightly uncomfortable but at the same time pleasurable. Unconsciously, you move your hips into his before a faint moan escapes his lips. "Sorry," You apologize, lifting yourself up, only for his hands to shove them back down, grinding his hips into yours. Suddenly, you felt warm down there.

Jungkook takes a moment to take off his t-shirt, exposing his built chest. You had noticed he had been working out lately, but you never got to see the results of it. He tugs on the hem of your hoodie, giving you a look. "Can I take this off?" You slouch a bit, feeling your cheeks flush in embarrassment. "I kind of have a junk food belly at the moment." He lets out a chuckle, pinching your stomach a bit before shaking his head. "I think it's attractive, please let me take it off." You hesitate, but comply anyways and he discards the material. Your chest falls in his sight, and he felt himself twitch in his pants before grabbing a breast and letting the other one's nipple slip into his mouth. Your hands find the crown of his head and tug on his hair gently, earning a hum from you. "Feels good?" He asks, and you reply with only a nod before he lays your body back onto the floor, holding onto your head before slipping a pillow underneath.

Jungkook plants a kiss on your lips before tailing down to your neck, and then your chest, playing with your nipple before leading his hand down into your pants, finding a place in between your legs then brushing your clit. He leans back up to kiss your ear before whispering, "Show me how to make you feel good." You nod, feeling a bit flustered, still placing your hand on top of his outside of your shorts. You guide him, and when he touches the right spot, you can't help but gasp and close your legs. "Please?" He begs, and you open your legs back up for him as he slips a finger in. You were warm and wet around him, and his breath quickened against your ear. Jungkook pulls in and out before adding another finger, earning a whimper from you and he slows down, noticing your face crinkle up in slight pain. He wanted to stretch you enough for him so you wouldn't be in as much pain later.

The feeling eventually subsided and replaced with pleasure. You stop his hand when you feel yourself almost hitting your high and lock eyes with him as he raises a brow questioningly. "I'm ready."

Both of your pants were off, and your legs were spread for him as you watched him lean to his bedside table to grab condoms from a drawer, opening on and sliding it onto his shaft. He positions himself outside of you, looking up to meet your gaze before gifting you a peck on the lips, slowly entering in. "Ah," You wince in pain, as he moans quietly from feeling your warmth. "I'm going to move slowly, so please tell me when you're ready." He says, lips pressed against your collarbone, holding himself back from letting it go.

After several slow thrusts, you squeeze his arm to signal him to move faster. He eagerly obeys, quickening his movements before he feels his stomach clenching moments later. "I think I'm about to cum," He says, body tensing above you as strings of cum paint your inner walls. Jungkook's chest is against yours when he collapses from reaching his high, face in your neck with his fringe damp and body glistening with a layer of sweat. He regains his composure before lifting his head and giving you another kiss on your lips. "I'm sorry, that was fast, you were just so tight and warm— do you want me to help you finish?—"

You lay, hair a mess, no sign of the tie anywhere, skin sticky, uneven breaths, and cheeks flushed crimson. It felt good— even though it didn't last for long— but it felt good. Shaking your head, you pull him in for a longer embrace. "Don't worry about it, it was good. I'm content," You say honestly. You didn't need to finish because you felt like you were at your high already.

The weekend passes, and Monday hits.

"Wait... you're telling me that your first kiss and your first time was with him? And you've never wanted to date him?" Yura says astoundingly. "But you're still friends. There's no way you don't have feelings for him. You like him, don't you?"

You scratch the back of your head before shrugging your shoulders, opening the textbook laying in front of you. "I don't know, Yura, you're asking me a lot of questions right now. I'm not sure how to reply." It was the middle of a break session in class, and people were sitting around, talking or playing games, so it was rowdy enough for the two of you to have a conversation without anyone overhearing. "That's what someone with a crush says," She responds, shaking her head before tapping her pen against the table. "Maybe you should confess to him or something."

"Confess to who?"

You felt your heart drop for a moment -- no one heard anything, did they? Eyes looking up at the person whose body lingers, you notice that there are two people standing at the end of your desk. "Oh, Jungkook, Hoseok, you scared me," Yura has her hand on her chest, inhaling in a deep breath. "I decided to drop by your class since Jungkook is too busy to hang out with me today," Gleams Hoseok, arm hanging around Jungkook's shoulder.

"You guys didn't answer my initial question, who are you confessing to?" Jungkook asks. Although the question was supposed to be directed to the both of you, his eyes were directly locked onto you. "Uh, pft, no one," You turn your head to look at Yura, stare hinting for her to help. Luckily, she reads this and claps her hands together with a laugh. "Me! I should confess to a guy,"

"Oh, who?" Hoseok had already grabbed a chair and sat down at this point, suddenly interested in the conversation. "And how are you going to do it? Are you going to do it like those girls did for Jungkook?"

Jungkook shakes his head, and extends his arm out to shift Hoseok back in his seat. "No, I think you guys were trying to talk about someone else's confession, not yours, Yura."

The bell rings. Hoseok frowns, standing up before returning the chair back to the rightful owner, ruffling Jungkook's hair. "That's my signal to leave, please tell me what happens next!" He makes his way out of the classroom as Jungkook waves goodbye but keeps his stare at you. "Saved by the bell. But I expect a talk later."

Fuck.

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter 4)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

Okay, yeah, sure, fine, you and Santi might not have been 100% honest about what you were planning in the jungle.

In fairness, neither of you ever actually said that this recon mission was at the behest of the CNP or Colombian military or any other government entity. You may have hinted at it. You may have neglected to correct the guys when they assumed. But you never actually told them that anyone had requested the raid on Lorea’s house.

What you had said was that there was a good chance this could turn into… something more. Something that might end up in a hefty pay day for all of you. You just never told the group of men that you and Garcia were actually banking on it.

You didn’t love the idea of lying to a bunch of strangers whom – if they agreed to everything – would end up holding your very life in their hands. Frankly, just the thought of doing so felt… sleezy. Especially considering that these men were Santi’s trusted friends. His brothers. But Santiago insisted that it needed to be played this way – They’ll never go for it if we tell them what we’re really up to. But I promise you, bonita, once they’re here, once they see… they’ll be all in.

He clearly knew his team because after just that single two-hour recce, a couple rounds of beers at a local bar, and a rather stirring, pointed speech, they were, in fact, all in.

And why not, really? The only one of them who had anything to lose – a family beyond those seen at the occasional holiday, wedding, or funeral – was Tom. And he’d been struggling so badly lately with impending alimony and child support and two kids’ worth of college tuitions – eight years minimum – that the money alone did all of their convincing for them.

It was illegal, yes. It was, as the captain said, “downright criminal.” But it wasn’t wrong. And as long as everything went according to plan, no one would know anything about any of it.

In the end, the world would be down at least one piece-of-shit, megalomaniacal drug lord murderer.

Some of the struggling people of Leticia – because you and Santi had promised each other and Yovanna that you’d drop a good chunk of the money into the hands of local charities – would have better lives.

Tom’s girls could go to college without having to worry about paying off student loans until they die.

Will could finally get rid of his old junker and buy a nice car – maybe not the Ferrari Ben was angling for, but a nice car all the same – to get him back and forth across the country for all those rousing speeches he insisted he would not stop giving.

Benny could invest in better training, at better gyms with better equipment… and real trainers. Or, hell, he could give all that shit up and quit getting his ass handed to him by kids ten years his junior, all in the hopes of capturing what was almost always one hell of a disappointing purse.

And Frankie? Well, Frankie wasn’t sure what he’d do with his share. But it sure would be nice to not have to worry so damn much. To not have to scramble to make the house payment every month. To not have to beg that dick who owns the local airfield to let him take on a few jobs just so he could settle into a cockpit for a bit. To maybe have the time – and funds – to take a woman on a date every now and then… not that he had a clue who that woman might be.

And you and Santi? Well, after years of accomplishing nothingin the fight against Lorea – the fight against the drug trade that had ruined and taken so many lives around the world – you two could finally say that you’d actually made a difference. Even if you couldn’t quite say it aloud for everyone to hear.

000

By the time you get to the compound early Sunday morning, rain’s already been falling for hours. The area’s nearly flooded, so your off-road path is basically a sprawling swampland. You barely slept, your hip is aching like crazy from an old injury, and the minute you step out of the SUV you damn near squeal like a stuck pig as you suddenly sink up to your calf in thick, sucking mud.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters under his breath – under a breathless laugh, you’re pretty sure – as he hops out and wraps a steadying arm around your waist. “Let me help,” he says, the words so soft, you can barely hear them over the unyielding pounding of the rain.

You try to balance, holding onto the door, one foot just barely sinking into the soft earth as Frankie leans down to pry the other from what feels like an utterly engulfing quicksand. He struggles, still holding you around the waist while his left hand works to grip your leg, your boot, your ankle… whatever he can wrap his fingers around. But it’s no use. The op has yet to even begin and already you’re stuck. In the disgusting mud. Deep in the endless jungle. With no hope of ever getting out.

You let out a painfully dramatic, completely despairing sigh and glance up only to see Benny laughing. Really laughing… not even trying to hide his utter, unabashed amusement at your awful predicament. You shoot him as threatening a glare as you can muster. But it only makes him laugh harder.

“Go get into position,” Tom orders, slapping him on the shoulder and shaking his head – once again in a seemingly all-too-practiced dadway – before he bends down to help Frankie out.

Finally, finally, the two men manage to free you. Shockingly, your boot leaves the earth as well, though you can feel the muck inside squelching beneath your instep and in between your toes. Your lip curls in disgust as you haphazardly wipe the boot – bottom, sides, and top – on the wheel well, a bit of mud getting squeezed out near your ankle as you do so. “I’m gonna get jungle rot,” you mutter bitterly as you continue to smear grime along the body of the SUV.

Tom swats your leg away. “Just be sure you don’t give away your location with all the squishing,” he says with a hint of a smile. Then, patting Frankie on the back, he finishes with a much more stern, “Let’s do this,” and takes off to find his position, face and shoulders both set as he easily drops into soldier mode.

“I’m still not sure if I like that guy,” you begin as you and Frankie head for the high ground, “or really freaking hate him.”

He bites out a quick laugh, turns to show off that too-damn-perfect smile, and replies with an easygoing, “Yup.”

Once you make it out of your drop-in point, everything else seems to be smooth sailing. The worst part is just waiting, especially with the rain. Waiting for Garcia’s informant to drop off the van. Waiting for the guards to leave for church, the family not so quickly following suit. Waiting for the guys to move in – Frankie shooting a quick wink alongside, “Watch my six,” as he heads out to join them. Waiting for the all-clear from Benny before you can finally enter the house yourself.

The house. Lorea’s house.

You’d been waiting for this for too damn long. Years of hunting the man had led to these last few months of building out this very plan with Santiago… and then to the last week of recon and final plans with these soldiers whom you barely even know. For all of the initial mistrust heaped upon you by them – and you honestly don’t blame them for any of it – the truth is, they know they have each other to depend on. You’re the odd man out here. You’re the one who should be questioning them… their dedication to this mission. Their loyalty to Santi, and by extension, to you. Their desire to end Lorea’s reign of terror.

You’re in this to take that man out. And if just one of these guys decides that’s not going to happen – for whatever reason – you’re shit out of luck. You should trust them only as far as you can throw them, which would be… not very far. But as you catch sight of Ben standing inside the front door, eagerly waving you in, and as you see the trail of blood leading into the kitchen, a voice over the coms calmly declaring, we had to shoot one of the guards in the leg, something inside of you shifts and settles and all of the worries about who may or may not be trustworthy simply flit away to nothing.

But other concerns quickly rise to take their place.

Watching the highly trained special ops team move about you – each man light-footed and fluid, so quiet that their breathing is nearly inaudible, even as one of them leans over your shoulder from his position behind – is nerve wracking enough to make your legs begin to tremble. You knew what you were getting into here. You knew that this would be dangerous, that it would require a certain level of skill and technique and training. But it isn’t until you actually see these men – these elite soldiers – in action that you realize how woefully inept and unprepared you are in comparison.

Self-doubt begins to seep from the cracks now forming in your carefully crafted façade. Uncertainty, insecurity, fear starts to build up and rise within you, burning like bile creeping up the back of your throat. By the time you and Santiago finish the second sweep of the downstairs and begin climbing the steps to the second-story landing, your entire body is vibrating with regretful apprehension.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you hear as you approach the study upstairs. It’s the room where your informant took the picture of the stacks of cash after her delivery, the holding area where all of Lorea’s blood money sat, just waiting to be counted. But when you enter, there’s no money to be found, just pissed-off-looking soldiers surrounded by the empty bags they had planned to fill with cash.

“Your girl burned us,” Frankie mutters blankly, eyes full of regret and annoyance as he leans heavily against one wall. His dark gaze collides with yours for just a fraction of a moment before he shakes his head and breathes out, “We gotta get outta here.”

Your brow crinkles in confusion, all of the insecurity bubbling through your body suddenly settling and getting replaced by a sort of righteous indignation. “Whoa, wait,” you spit out, sidestepping Santi and rushing to the center of the room. “We’re not leaving. We’re not done here.”

Will gives you an almost disappointed look and blankly mutters, “Nothing here, sweetheart,” before dropping heavily into a chair in the corner.

You shake your head, a pointed certainty to your words as you level him with a heated stare and say, “Lorea’s here. He’s always here. He does not leave.”

Tom scoffs. “Yeah, well, he left today,” he says, tone full of spite. “And he took the money with him.”

You spin to face him, “No,” pouring from your lips in a firm and unyielding tenor. “He’s here. And so is the money.”

“We did a full sweep,” Will breathes out.

“So we’ll do another,” Santiago chimes in, suddenly at your back.

You look around at all the forlorn faces and roll your eyes, realizing all at once that, for all their training in war, these men don’t have a freaking clue about the kinds of things you deal with in your job. They’re used to encountering soldiers – enemy combatants, trained mercenaries, militias… people who’s purpose is to fight. That’s not what Lorea is. That’s not what he does. He didn’t move deep into the jungle to fight, to wage war, to build an army. He came here to hide.

“You guys are fucking idiots,” you declare with a huff. “I once spent two hours tearing apart a houseboat before finding the guy we were after squatting in a hidden cutout near the bilge. A few years ago, we found fifty thousand dollars under a false bottom in a hot tub while serving a search warrant. Another raid ended with us tearing apart a kid’s tree house that had cash hidden under the floorboards. You think because Lorea isn’t sitting here behind his desk, counting his millions like fucking Scrooge McDuck that they’re not here? That he’s not here?”

“Didn’t McDuck swim in his money?” Benny inquires from behind, the question earning quick huff of a laugh from his brother.

You feel Santi step away from your side. “She’s right,” he says, his eyes dancing around the room, looking for… something. They land on a mostly empty can of paint, and he smiles, sniffing quickly at the air. “Fresh paint.”

Tom’s eyes widen and tick towards the wall to his left as his lips split and out pours what you had all along seen as being an obvious truth. “The house is the safe.”

000

When it rains, it pours. You’d been the one to say that, to inanely mutter the adage through the coms with a huff as Benny took off back inside the house – the safe – while you sat in the now heavily weighted van, so full of money that the suspension sags to the point of extremeconcern.

The guards are coming back, the sound of their SUV’s engine just barely chugging atop the steady beating of the downpour that had engulfed you all for the past few hours. They’re coming back, and everyone but you is still inside.

Call it greed. Call it vindictiveness. Call it whatever the fuck you want. But you all had agreed to get as much plata out of that house as possible, to fill the cars to the freaking brim with as much of that motherfucker’s money – his lifeblood, his love, his everything – before setting fire to the whole damn thing. You’d been in this business long enough to know that bringing down one cartel merely opens up a door for others to grow. But still, the idea of watching Lorea’s empire burn makes you wet in a way the torrential rain beating on the roof on the van never could.

You toss a glance back, over you shoulder at the mound of duffel bags, a child’s suitcase thrown into the pile as well, all filled to bursting with cash. It’s pretty unbelievable. Incredible. You’d never been the type to really worry about money, no more so than the average guy. But damn if being surrounded by millions of dollars doesn’t make you a little lightheaded. And the fact that it’s Lorea’s money?

Despite Santi’s little bullshit pep talk the other night about how all of you deserve this – for serving your country and fighting for what’s right… blah, blah, blah – you honestly don’t feel like you deserve this money any more than anyone else. But Lorea sure as shit doesn’t deserve it. And you trust yourself – and each of these men by your side – to put it to far better use than he ever would.

You can’t see the guards, can’t see the SUV carrying them from your vantage point in the van. But Benny had told you to stay put, he’d get the others and he wanted you ready to drive as soon as they came out. Still, you know now that the first car must’ve arrived at the compound because – aside from the steady pounding of the rain and the wild pulse of your heartbeat echoing in your ears – everything is suddenly silent. No more hum of an engine. No choppy callouts over the radio as Ben seeks out the guys. Everything is silent and still. Until… pop-pop, short and sudden, muffled by the thick walls of the house.

Over the coms you hear – in a calm, controlled tone – Two down in the entryway. Another sharp pop, followed by a voice you’ve come to easily recognize. That’s three.

There’s something in the way their words are uttered, something in the utterly placid tenor of each of their voices. Something also to the sparse shots – so unlike the rapid, automatic gunfire you’re used to being thrown into amid scared and untrained local police and inexperienced, foolhardy kids hired as cheap labor by the cartels. There’s something about the way they all rush suddenly into your line of sight – fast but calm, controlled – as they pour out of the house, a few racing past to find the guards’ SUV, the sounds of their footfalls and quick breaths nearly drowning out the whir of the engine as you turn the ignition. There’s something about it all that leaves you feeling – despite the fact that things did not go as planned and you can see that all-too-recognizable, pissed-off scowl tugging at Santiago’s features as he flies past your window – calm as well. Safe, even.

Frankie climbs quickly into the passenger side of the van just as you fire up the engine, Will slowly pulling himself into the seat behind him. “Shit,” you mutter, eyes widening as you take in the grimace on the man’s face, the blood on his hands and shirt. “What the hell happened?”

“S’fine,” he tells you, punctuating the statement with a nod, a directive to look forward. “Let’s move.”

You put the van in gear and hit the gas, maneuvering steadily through the compound and towards the front entrance. “Did you get shot?” you inquire again, your voice showing less concern and more simple curiosity.

“Yeah,” he groans, a thick breath hitching as you hit a particularly big bump in the road. “Your friend Lorea popped out of his little hidey hole and got me. Guess you called that.”

You whip around to face him, eyes now like damn saucers. “You got him?”

Frankie grabs your arm and gives a little tug to get you turn back towards the front, only speaking, answering for Will, once you do so, once you settle a still-wild stare on the path ahead, “Yeah. Pope took him out. He’s dead.”

You say nothing for a long moment, letting those words seat inside of you. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. How long have you wanted to hear those words? How long have you been gunning for that son of a bitch, waiting for someone to take him out… hoping that someone might be you? Santi doing it is the next best thing, you figure.

A sudden explosion lights up in front of you as you approach the gate and Benny blows past it, and past the van, angrily muttering to himself all the while. “He looks pissed,” you comment blithely, looking to Frankie for something akin to permission before flooring it and ramming through the gate like you’re just itching to do.

He gives a staunch nod forward. “Can’t blame him,” he says, capping it off with a softer, rather encouraging, “Go for it.”

You hit the gas, glancing in the rearview mirror and asking, “The others are in the SUV?” as the guards’ car pulls up behind you and waits for Ben to jump in.

Frankie nods – “Yeah.” – and his eyes suddenly tick your way, narrowing a bit as they rove your body before coming to rest on your hands as they tightly grip the wheel.

“What?” you ask, feeling his stare burn into you.

Will laughs from behind – a swift, stilted thing that tells you just how much pain he’s actually in – and lets out an amused, “Fish always drives.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, voice dripping with put-on sincerity as you continue down the unpaved road. “Do you want me to pull over?”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding the plainly obvious pout tugging at his lips when he looks over at you and mutters, “Just watch where you’re going.”

The first half or so of the long drive up to the airfield is spent in tense silence. You don’t fight it, don’t force any sort of conversation, don’t inquire about what exactly happened in that house. You can tell that these men need a long-ass moment to come down from everything. Hell, your own adrenaline still has your pulse thrumming endlessly through your ears. And you’d been safely ensconced inside this van for most of the action. It’s not like you had to fight your way out of there. It’s not like you got shot.

Your eyes bounce up to the rearview mirror, finding Will curled into himself in the backseat. “How you doing, Ironhead?” you ask, purposefully infusing the ridiculous name with a mocking intonation.

He looks up and catches your gleaming eyes in the mirror, notes your slight smirk, and gruffly replies, “Well, I’m not dead yet.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Frankie supplies from your right. He spins around to give his friend a quick once over. “He’s fine.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous,” you challenge, raising a brow. “Didn’t see you coming out of there with a new hole in your body.”

“Didn’t realize you were so focused on my body,” he returns with a bit of a lilt.

Will groans loudly from the back. “Don’t start flirting up there,” he practically orders before the no-argument tone slips into something softer, almost jovial. “I’m suffering enough back here as is.”

“You’re fine,” Frankie shoots back, turning bodily in his seat and craning his head towards his friend. “You act like you’ve never been shot before.”

“I’m retired,” he replies. “Think I forgot how much this sucks.”

You nod, almost to yourself, emitting a simple, assenting, “Yeah.”

Frankie leans back, still remaining sideways in the seat, his stare now wholly on you. You glance over and see his brow scrunch in… is it concern? Or merely curiosity? “You’ve been shot?” he asks, an odd edge to his voice.

Again, you nod. “I have. Didn’t care for it.”

“See, Fish,” Will mumbles from the back as he slips further down the seat in an effort to find some semblance of comfort. “Maybe you’ve been so busy flying around rich businessmen in the private sector that you’ve also forgotten how shitty this is.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” he mutters with a frown.

Will cocks his head at you – not that you can see it, eyes remaining trained on the road lest you get another watch where you’re goingevil stare from the man by your side. “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You snort out a short laugh, glancing quickly at Frankie and saying softly – and more than a little bit condescendingly – “He likes to call me sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man in the back sighs out, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Guess I’m just a run-of-the-mill chauvinist.”

You shrug. “I never said anything about you being run-of-the-mill.” And from your right, you hear a soft snicker. A gentle smile spreads across your face and your hands loosen their death grip on the steering wheel just a bit as you feel the air filling the van begin to lighten, tension seeming to slowly spill away. After a lingering – but not at all wrought – moment, you shift a bit in your seat and say, “Went on a raid just outside of Tijuana. My first down in Mexico. And I took a bullet in the hip.”

“Shit,” Will intones. “Hell of a bienvenido.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, suddenly all-too conscious of the old ache in your joint that’s been plaguing you all day. “But on the plus side, I’m now always the first to know when it’s about to rain.”

Both men laugh. You laugh – despite the pain in your hip and the worry about the guy in back… and your terribly distracting infatuation with the wide smile now painted on Frankie’s face. You all sit in the van – on your way to flee the country after committing a terrible crime – and laugh about the fact that, despite each of you being a little bit broken, none of you are dead yet.

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