#this was largely based on that one scene where he made her breakfast but like Badly

[reidsangel]

tainted lotus - spencer reid

wc: 2.6k

warnings: infidelity, mentions of blood, a killing, guns. ( based off of the white lotus, go watch if you haven't ! )

a/n: i hope you guys like this as much as i had fun writing this with that being said don't cheat or k!ll. enjoy!

The sun blazed over the pristine white sand, the kind of heat that made even the blue ocean look exhausted. Spencer stood under the shade of a swaying palm tree, his lanky frame slightly hunched as he observed his family scattered across the private beach of the opulent San Domenico Resort. He adjusted his glasses, squinting at the scene before him like a detective examining a crime scene. He was always in work mode. 

His wife, Margot Lennox; who had refused to change her last name to Reid because she said it was too simple for a woman like her, was perched on a lounge chair, shaded by a wide-brimmed hat, her dress a sleek, knee-length kaftan in deep midnight blue. her eyes flicking between the pages of The Odyssey and the resort staff as if she were evaluating their performances. 

Margot had an air of aristocratic detachment, a woman who had been raised with wealth but wore it like an armor rather than an adornment. She spoke with a crispness that bordered on condescension, her words carefully chosen to remind others of their place in her world. 

Their son, Henry, sixteen and full of rebellion, was scrolling through his phone with an expression that suggested he was looking for an escape route. Their daughter, Violet, fourteen and perpetually unimpressed, floated in the infinity pool, her sunglasses shielding her from both the sun and her family, a silent protest against forced bonding.

The resort itself was suffocating in its perfection, the kind of place where wealth wasn't just displayed but weaponized. Guests lingered at breakfast tables long after their food had gone cold, engaged in hushed, theatrical conversations about art, politics, and philanthropy, their words carefully chosen for the benefit of those eavesdropping.

 The staff moved with an eerie, rehearsed precision, smiling just enough to seem warm but never enough to seem human. 

Everything about San Domenico was designed to remind its visitors that they were special, and yet, Spencer had never felt more like an outsider.

By the third evening, Spencer found himself roped into a dinner on the terrace, the sunset painting the ocean in shades of gold and crimson. The table was too large for comfort, forcing them into an odd mix of forced intimacy and strained distance. The silverware was too heavy, the glasses too delicate, the soft murmur of string instruments from the live band just loud enough to make meaningful conversation feel like a performance.

"So Dad," Henry began, smirking over the rim of his soda glass. "Do you, like, profile us? Your own family?"

Spencer resisted the urge to sigh. "Not intentionally."

Violet stirred her drink with a straw, her tone flat. "That’s not a no."

Margot gave Spencer a knowing look over the rim of her wine glass. "You do analyze people, love. It’s just who you are."

Spencer glanced around the terrace, at the couples sitting in awkward silences, the man at the bar staring too hard at his drink, the waitstaff moving with careful precision. A vacation was supposed to be an escape, but instead, the resort felt like a purgatory filled with people trying to out-relax each other.

 He spotted the cracks beneath the polished surface, the woman at the corner table whose forced laughter didn’t reach her eyes, the man whose rolex was too tight on his wrist, suggesting he wasn’t the one who originally bought it. The place reeked of curated happiness, the kind that frayed at the edges if you looked too closely.

"The thing about places like this," Spencer murmured, "is that they’re designed to make people feel important. But money doesn’t erase loneliness, it just decorates it."

Silence settled over the table, the waves crashing below like punctuation.

Henry studied him with a slow, assessing gaze before leaning back. "That’s kind of depressing."

Spencer offered a small, wry smile. "Reality often is."

Margot drained her wine and motioned for another. Violet muttered something about going back to her room. Henry returned to his phone. And Spencer, for all his brilliance, realized he had nothing left to say that would make any of them stay at the table.

The next morning, he found himself in the hotel’s library once again, running his fingers over the spines of books that had likely never been read. He pulled one at random— The Picture of Dorian Gray and settled into a leather armchair, content in the knowledge that, no matter where he was, no matter the dysfunction surrounding him, there would always be stories better than the people telling them.

That’s when she walked in.

Lucia. A name that should have belonged to a tragic opera character, or perhaps a long-lost Botticelli painting. She was neither. Instead, she was a contradiction, wrapped in silk and sun-kissed skin, moving through the resort with a quiet self-assurance that made it seem as if the walls themselves had been built around her. She worked at San Domenico, or at least, that’s what she let people assume. Some days she was a hostess, others she simply lingered near the bar, sipping wine as though she had nowhere else to be.

Their affair was reckless. Spencer knew better. He always knew better. But knowing and resisting were not the same thing.

What Spencer didn’t know; what no one knew was that Lucia was not just a beautiful stranger with an irresistible pull. She was something else entirely, something far more dangerous. She played her part flawlessly, a woman with no past, no tells, no mistakes. But beneath that effortless smile, there were secrets buried deeper than the ocean.

By the end of the week, the tension in the air was palpable, thick like the humidity before a storm. Margot watched Spencer with quiet amusement, as if waiting for the inevitable unraveling. And then it came. Margot always knew her husband better than he ever knew himself, maybe that’s what drew her in, his demons. 

It was supposed to be another secret meeting. A final moment between Spencer and Lucia before they left the resort. But something was wrong. The way she looked at him tonight was different, colder, calculating.

Then, she reached into her bag.

Spencer reacted before he could think, muscle memory kicking in from years of training. The gun in her hand barely had time to glint under the dim light before his own fired first.

Lucia staggered back, eyes wide, blood blooming across her silk dress like a dark, spreading lotus. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out and then, there was the infamous death rattle. The gun slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the marble floor.

The room was silent except for Spencer’s ragged breathing. His hands trembled as he lowered his weapon. The weight of what he had done settled into his bones like lead.

The seconds stretched into what felt like hours. Spencer’s heart raced, his breath shallow as his eyes flickered between the bloodied body of Lucia and the door. He felt a cold sweat bead along his brow, a wave of panic cresting over him. The gun in his hand felt foreign, too heavy, the weight of his actions crashing into him with full force.

Lucia's still form lay sprawled across the floor, the crimson stain growing larger with every second, spreading out across the pristine marble. He had never imagined it would come to this. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be the one in control, the one who always saw every outcome before it played out. But now, here he was, standing over her lifeless body, his hands trembling.

There was a knock at the door.

Spencer knew it was his wife, only her knock could be so calculated and heartless, must be all that lorazepam she took for her anxiety. 

She was always taking something, always smoothing out the edges of her existence until there was nothing left but a perfectly controlled version of herself. It made her easier to tolerate at long dinner parties, easier to admire in photographs, easier to pretend to love. But beneath the careful doses and measured glances, she was just as hollow as their marriage; smooth on the surface, crumbling underneath.

The pills kept her steady, kept her from feeling too much, which was ironic, considering she had spent years accusing him of being the distant one. He wondered if she even noticed anymore, the way he barely looked at her, the way his silence had stopped being an invitation and turned into a wall. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. Either way, she had her medication, and he had his indifference.

Spencer froze, panic locking his limbs in place. It felt like the world was spinning out of his control. His thoughts swirled in a dizzying frenzy, unable to grab onto anything solid. 

What would happen if she walked in? If she saw this?

Spencer’s mind screamed at him to act, to do something, anything. But his body wouldn’t respond. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out his thoughts. Lucia’s face was frozen, her eyes were open, like a cruel reminder of everything he’d done. He couldn’t let Margot in here. Not now. Not when everything was falling apart.

"Spencer darling?" she drawled, her voice smooth but utterly no hint of warmth, like an actress reciting lines she’d grown tired of. There was a practiced sweetness to it, as always. 

The door creaked slightly as if Margot was testing it, her voice edging with concern now.

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pulling himself together, fighting the dizzying wave of panic that threatened to consume him. He had to stay calm. He had to think, because if he didn’t, everything would fall apart.

"Margot," he called, forcing his voice to steady. "I—I’ll be right there."

His breath hitched as he stepped away from Lucia’s body, but his eyes were glued to her, to the blood. The blood that would be the thing that ruined everything. The blood that was already tainting every part of this perfect façade they had so carefully built. He needed to think. Fast. His family...the media; his career— if this got out, it would destroy everything.

Another knock at the door, sharper now.

"Spencer, open the door. Now."

Spencer’s mind raced as his pulse quickened, the sound of blood rushing in his ears. He looked around the room, searching for something— anything that could help him fix this. His thoughts were a blur of panic, but there was one thing he knew for sure: if she found out about this, about what he’d done, everything would be over.

He couldn’t let her see. He couldn’t let her find out the truth.

The door handle turned, the sound sending a jolt of terror through his body. Margot would barge in any second, and then it would all come crashing down.

"baby" he called- he never called her that, his voice shaking. "Please, just give me a minute."

Outside the door, he heard her sigh, a soft, knowing sound. Spencer knew she wasn’t convinced. But Margot was nothing if not pragmatic.

"I’m coming in, Spencer. You’re not getting out of this. I don’t care whichever whore you fuck—"

The door opened with a soft click, and there she was.

she stepped inside, her gaze immediately falling on the bloodstained floor, then to the gun still gripped in Spencer’s trembling hand. Her eyes didn’t widen in shock. They didn’t reveal anything but a calm, practiced calculation. 

She was unfazed, almost as if she had expected this moment. She had always known something would break. She’d known Spencer, despite all his brilliance, was capable of losing control.

Spencer opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind was whirling, spinning out of control, as his wife slowly walked into the room, her gaze not flicking to Lucia’s body, but to Spencer, like she was measuring the weight of the situation.

"I knew," she said softly, her voice cool, not angry, but something else. A quiet resignation. "I knew you were having an affair, Spencer. But this- this is something else entirely."

Spencer’s breath hitched, but he couldn’t afford to get lost in the guilt, in the shame. "Margot, please I didn’t mean for this to happen. I—" His voice cracked as he tried to explain, but the words got stuck in his throat. "I didn’t know. she threatened me. I—"

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "Stop." She shook her head, her expression hardening. "Do you think I care about your affairs, Spencer? Really? Do you think this is about that?"

Spencer’s eyes widened in confusion as his chest tightened. "What do you mean?"

She stepped closer to him, her voice low and controlled. "What matters now is that this—" she gestured to Lucia’s body with a sweeping motion, her gaze cold and distant. "This is going to destroy us. If anyone finds out, it will be everywhere and you will be in prison. The press will have a field day. Your career will be ruined. And I’ll be left to pick up the pieces of a shattered life that I didn’t goddamn sign up for!"

Spencer opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him with a sharp, cutting look.

"I can help you," she said, her voice now a whisper of cold steel. "But you have to trust me. We clean this up. We make it disappear. No one can know what happened here."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Spencer’s mind reeled as he tried to wrap his head around what she was offering. "you’re willing to help me?" he asked incredulously.

Margot gave a humorless laugh. "I’m willing to help us. Because no one can know this . If you think for one second the world will let you walk away from this unscathed, you’re delusional. But together, Spencer, we can fix this."

Spencer didn’t know what to say. He stood frozen, staring at her as the reality of her words sunk in. His pulse thundered in his ears, his mind spinning. Could he really do this? Could he erase what had happened, make it all go away?

Margot was already moving, taking charge like she had been in this same exact position many times before. "We’ll get rid of the evidence. We’ll stage it like she came in here, got drunk, and passed out. The gunshot will be explained away as an accident." She looked at him sharply, her gaze hard as stone. 

"I don’t want to hear any more about your fucking guilt or remorse. This isn’t about you. It’s about survival. For both of us and Henry and Violet"

As Spencer nodded mutely, Margot began to work with a precision that could only come from someone who had lived in the world of appearances for far too long. Spencer watched as she moved quickly, silently, her every motion a calculated step in their web of deception.

When she finished, she turned to Spencer, her eyes piercing through him like a needle threading through fabric.

"Now," she said, her voice soft but unyielding, "we make sure no one ever knows what happened here."

Spencer’s chest tightened as he realized just how deep they had sunk. This wasn’t just about saving his career. This was about something much darker.

And together, they were going to cover it up, no matter what.

But as Margot stepped out of the room, leaving Spencer to contemplate the weight of their actions, his eyes darted back to Lucia's body. The question gnawed at him— would they ever really be able to erase what they'd done?

A chill ran down his spine as he wondered just how far his wife would go to protect him. To protect them. 

Would she push him further down a path he could never return from?

And just how far would he be willing to follow her?

[papaver-decervicatus]

Cat/Mouse/Den EXTRA! Getaway Fever

AN: This is the quick story a personal friend wrote based on Cat/Mouse/Den! I actually vastly prefer his writing to my own because I feel like it fits König's POV much better. Everyone tell him how good it is in the comments to fluster him <3

He walks along the base of a gradually sloping desert-esque hill, with trees and high rising scrub against the base of the hill, up it, and maybe even over it. The occasional tree, large stone, or elsewise normal scenery slowly passes him as he patrols. Then the wind catches him. 

 He sucks in a breath, and takes in the scene in, in a different way. The smell of acacia, a light rain from this morning, and something else. It's different, not new. Out of place. The smell lingers in the back of his throat. Makes his arm hair stand. ‘Ich geisteskrank’  he thinks, (I’m insane)

 He closes his eyes, for a few seconds, as another whipping wind rolls down the hills, breaks around his form. 

 And this time he closes his eyes, and breathes in deeper. And he catches it again. 

 “No closer.” A cool, flat tone, from the radio at his hip. There's almost an edge of excitement or thrill on the end of the words that come over the radio. It's her. Of course

 So all he does is lean back on a small boulder, just less than a yard behind him. It's funny how no matter where the line is drawn, it seems to always be in a comfortable place. Maybe it’s that he could make himself comfortable in her presence, anywhere. Maybe that she makes sure he’s comfortable wherever he may be. But he does stop, and he takes up post. And she watches closely as the tension seems to leave him. 

 His shoulders drop, half a foot, from where he holds them. He slouches a little. He even rolls his neck, to stretch. And as he does, he stops, about halfway up his right shoulder. 

 She can't see it perfectly from over 70 yards. But he's making eyes at her. The crisp desert air, or maybe a lucky delusion, brought her right to him. 

 “Hallo, Maus.” His voice is high. It means “I missed you so”

 “König.” Her voice hides her eagerness. It means “You made me wait.” But she continues “Don’t move a muscle.” It means 

 “I missed what you look like.”

  He draws his favorite knife, and rolls it around in his hand, idly. He cant think of what to say, but and it's eating at him instantly. Like hes running out of time. Like she’ll shoot him for his lack of etiquette, or for worse- boring her. In an antsy fervor, he wracks his brain for something clever. Impressive? Entertaining? His hands move on their own accord, and start passing the blade back and forth. It snaps from hand to hand, almost moving so fast it can only be seen on departure and reentry from one palm to another. 

“Das es not my first place to pick on vacation. Yet we’re both here?”

Her eyes roll back into her skull, and after a second of him wanting to cut out his own tongue, she throws him a rope. “Just enjoying the pool, maybe the view too. It's not half bad.”

Her smirk is audible. ‘I am going to explode’  He thinks. But it comes out as “Have you tried the uhh… mini bar? Or the breakfast?”

“No, I haven't, I've been sleeping in.”

 She’s maybe slept half an hour in the past 24, not wanting to chance missing him. “Is it any good..?” She entertains the idea. In her mind, she doesn't imagine it being a bad place for such amenities, or at least how much better it would make things.

It goes on, and they play pretend for a little.

 It's hushed, and quiet, and statements usually finish with “It would be nice.” But it makes a good pass time, as they draw up and design the perfect little vacation together. And, eventually the sun sets, and two shadows head to camp, and report nothing. No imaginary hotel, or imaginary margaritas, or even imaginary golden orange sunlight that creeps through imaginary curtains as the twilight spreads across the arid landscape. 

[deepdarkdelights]

Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview:  You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 

A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands. 

You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day. 

You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after. 

All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch. 

Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often. 

If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open. 

“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning. 

You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure. 

“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips. 

“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”

But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes. 

Fuck, and now you were crying again. 

You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you. 

It was time to start celebrating then. 

You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better. 

You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic. 

You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection. 

You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall. 

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose. 

You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You  twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.

You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again. 

~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up. 

And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead. 

You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway. 

Someone was in the house. 

You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds. 

When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger. 

You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand. 

Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall. 

A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century. 

The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths. 

Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress. 

“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”

“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back. 

“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed. 

“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.

In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler. 

“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”

You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words. 

“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.” 

You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen. 

“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp. 

He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”

“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”

The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”

And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line. 

But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?

And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees. 

You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place. 

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.

Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?

You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing. 

You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on. 

So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it. 

The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago. 

The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure. 

In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight. 

It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area. 

The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come. 

And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well? 

But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work. 

If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours. 

By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself. 

But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more. 

You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.  

You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead. 

While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him. 

“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”

“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone. 

“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”

“I’m sorry miss, but -”

“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside. 

“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door. 

“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.” 

“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club. 

Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him. 

He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you. 

With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest. 

Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him. 

His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare. 

“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before. 

Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night. 

“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!

“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day. 

The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help. 

“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider. 

You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you. 

Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.

“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you. 

“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were. 

“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?” 

“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”

“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically. 

“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused. 

“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated. 

“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before. 

No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now. 

And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era. 

“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt. 

“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question. 

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you. 

You were having a stressful day.

~~~~~~~

When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state. 

But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest. 

You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone. 

“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you. 

It was him again, the man with the dimples. 

“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you. 

You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone. 

“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident. 

“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside. 

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people. 

“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up. 

The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response. 

“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.

“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation. 

“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream. 

“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows. 

“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”

“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!” 

“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”

He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment. 

“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.

You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung. 

“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”

“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins. 

“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained. 

Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims. 

That was too close of a call for you. 

“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim. 

“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“You’re an officer, then?” You asked. 

He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”

Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted. 

“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease. 

Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”

“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.  

“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.

“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back. 

“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door. 

“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut. 

As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.

So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.

As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.

Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.

She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.

"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.

"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.

"Well, to dress you of course."

Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.

"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."

"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.

Fuck.

"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months. 

You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment. 

She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”

Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”

“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”

“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.” 

“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”

“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway. 

The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master. 

The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content. 

Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study. 

“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted. 

You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room. 

Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk. 

Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you. 

“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading. 

“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”

Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain. 

He made you uncomfortable. 

“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin. 

“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”

“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head. 

“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have. 

“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine. 

“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.” 

You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes. 

Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest. 

His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?” 

“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right. 

“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh. 

“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?” 

“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent. 

That could have been you. 

“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him. 

“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”

“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.

“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”

That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”

“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”

“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head. 

“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on  its surface. 

“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Interested?” He echoed.

“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”

“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?” 

“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”

You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 

“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him. 

The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on. 

A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin. 

“We have a deal.” He confirmed. 

“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”

“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger. 

That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer. 

“And what will we do in the meantime?” 

“Well investigate, of course.”

~~~~~~~

Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End. 

You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were. 

You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void. 

You assumed. 

Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself. 

And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of. 

He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped. 

And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire. 

The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning. 

Usually. 

Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark. 

At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down. 

It was the call of your name that made you freeze. 

Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you. 

“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand. 

“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”

“Two more women are dead.”

Silence. 

“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp. 

“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect. 

The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault. 

No matter what you do, someone will die. 

“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed. 

“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’ 

“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet. 

You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you. 

He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”

His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.” 

“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.” 

Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow. 

“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”

He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him. 

“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time. 

“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”

So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details. 

“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm. 

And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one. 

You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin. 

For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study. 

He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you. 

Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?

You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds. 

Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?

Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”

That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind. 

“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”

He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief. 

He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left. 

~~~~~~~

You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had. 

The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place. 

Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth. 

“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you. 

You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides. 

“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained. 

“Alright, what can I do?” 

“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area. 

“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared. 

Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?” 

Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often. 

He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way. 

“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise. 

Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it. 

You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said. 

The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing. 

And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air. 

But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent. 

“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”

Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak. 

It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined. 

There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying. 

Namjoon was calling your name. 

You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him. 

“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. 

“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you. 

You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket. 

You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him. 

“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying. 

You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you. 

There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon. 

~~~~~~~

Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before. 

Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place. 

A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”

He was playing with them. 

Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage. 

Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster. 

And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster. 

This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you. 

You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once. 

You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be). 

At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open. 

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin. 

“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist. 

“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.” 

“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes. 

Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.” 

“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot. 

Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.

As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.” 

Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”

“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis. 

You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions. 

Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”

You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation. 

You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.” 

A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks. 

“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind. 

And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough. 

Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession. 

Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall. 

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless. 

You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone. 

“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.

You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was. 

You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all. 

“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback. 

It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you. 

“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook. 

Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him. 

All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own. 

They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish. 

“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?” 

“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom. 

“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”

“Two of us?” You echoed. 

“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up. 

“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”

“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”

“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”

“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?” 

“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”

His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”

But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all. 

You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?

All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End. 

You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night. 

You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake. 

Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out. 

It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that. 

Oh, if only you did. 

The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up. 

Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified. 

A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone. 

You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.

And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you. 

“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse. 

Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley. 

Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips. 

“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”

“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form. 

“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.” 

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest. 

“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered. 

“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch. 

“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”

A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face. 

Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.

The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open. 

“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly. 

“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand. 

But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness. 

The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side. 

“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.” 

[nvrrmiind]

Wildflower ; Calum Hood

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: smut & swearing

Summary: The one where Calum meets a girl at a club and can't get enough of her. (Loosely based on Wildflower, iykyk)

(Read more of my work here)

***

Wildflower.

That’s what he had called you from the beginning.

His little wildflower.

You weren’t sure how to feel about it -- when he had first introduced the pet name to you -- but you grew to love the way it fell from his lips. You were his free-spirited, resilient, and beautiful wildflower.

You were both completely infatuated with one another, from the slight brushing of your lips on one another's to the passionate kisses that were shared during your intimate moments. The infatuation could be seen in every aspect of your daily lives, from his soft touches in the morning when he’d brush your hair away from your face to his strong grip on your hips when he’d have you bent over the dining room table. But most importantly, he couldn’t get enough of you.

He couldn’t get enough of the way your lips would part with gasps and how moans would slip off your tongue. He couldn’t get enough of your thighs clenching around his head when his tongue was lapping away at you and how he’d have to hold your hips down when you’d start to get close.

There was something special about you. He could feel it in every bone of his body. An undeniable connection between the two of you that he hadn’t felt with anyone else. It started from the moment he met you and only grew stronger with each interaction from there on out. From each touch, kiss, and moan of his name.

The connection started off physically. He loved exploring every inch of your body and doing things to you that no one else had done before. Of course, he was also selfish, and couldn’t deny the things you did to his body -- the way you made him feel -- doing things to him that he hadn’t achieved in a while. Because every time you fucked, you made him come, which was a feat that no other person had overcome.

It all started almost a year ago, at some shitty nightclub, with one too many sweaty people cramming their way onto the dance floor. It was opening night and he was somehow conned into coming by a group of his friends. He’d pleaded and begged them not to drag him out -- they’d just gotten off of tour and the caffeine from the afternoon was wearing off -- but there he was, with a drink in his hand. It was his third of the night but he’d barely touched it because someone had caught his eye. That someone was you, in a tight fitting dress that barely touched mid-thigh and bright red lipstick that made you stand out from the rest of the crowd.

He’d sat there watching you for the past five minutes. Watching how your hips swayed to the beat of a song he couldn’t be bothered to name. Whether it was the alcohol in his system or the slight state of delirium he was in from the lack of sleep he’d had the past two months, he decided to approach you. His drink was abandoned at a random table and he sauntered toward you, his confidence oozing with every step he took.

He hadn’t done this in a while -- approach someone else -- since he was always the one that was rejecting other’s advances. But, here he was nonetheless, with a sly smirk on his face and a haze of lust clouding his judgment. Generally, he tended to be more of a reserved guy -- the kind that observed what others did and learning from their mistakes -- so he’d face less embarrassment.

“Did you come here alone?” At this point he was behind you with his breath fanning the side of your face.

“If by alone, you mean single, then yes.” You glanced over your shoulder, taking in the parts you could see of him.

A few songs and some dirty dancing later, you were confidently leading the mystery man to the closest bathroom you could find, deciding that at this point of the night, if someone caught you fucking in the bathroom, they’d be too drunk to care. Plus, it was opening night, and there was nothing better to do than to break in the bathroom for any of the following drunk and horny pair that would fuck in there.

You watched as he locked the door, the sly smirk staying on his lips, as he took confident strides towards you. From the beginning, his overconfidence made you wet. It all started downstairs when you had first noticed him -- looking like he owned the entire space he was in. Although he paraded around with a mask of nonchalance, you could just tell that he could dominate anything he wanted -- you could tell by the way he sat and strutted around and by the bourbon he was sipping on.

“Turn around.” He demanded, coming up behind you, his hands resting on either side of you.

“I want you to be able to see what I’m about to do to you.” He continued, his left hand trailing to your neck while his right hand hiked up your dress.

“Please… fuck.” You exhaled, waiting for his fingers to dip into the place you needed him most. But he was toying with you, fingers dancing across the fabric of your panties, feeling the wet spot growing.

And when he did put his fingers inside of you, you let out a long sigh of pleasure, head rolling back onto his shoulder. You hadn’t had this kind of pleasure in awhile and had been wanting it -- needing it -- for the longest time. Your back arched when he started rubbing circles against your clit, your eyes shutting in pleasure.

“Hey, baby, the whole point of the mirror is to look at yourself, yeah?” He grabbed your chin, holding your head, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

You felt pathetic, with your body writhing under the mere act of his fingers pumping in and out of you. But you hadn’t been touched in ages, not like this. Not by a random, hot stranger, you’d just met a club and decided to fuck in the upstairs bathroom.

“Fuck me, please.” You moaned, biting your lip.

“You want my cock inside of you that badly, huh?” You could feel his chest shake with a short laugh.

He didn’t bother to get a response from you, instead he pushed your body down onto the counter and pinned your hands behind your back. You could hear him fumble with his belt, then the sharp sound of his zipper, and god, were you ready for him. He pushed inside of you with ease, a long sigh leaving his lips.

Your cheek pressed against the cool countertop, while your nails dug into your palms, as he rocked his hips into you. He was going hard and fast and it was everything you wanted at the moment. His grip on your wrists was almost painful and you knew he’d leave a nice purple bruise on them, but you didn’t care, and it didn’t matter.

You let out a breathy moan when he stilled inside of you, completely bottoming out. Your walls were tightening around him, hips trying to create some movement that he wouldn’t allow.

“Why’d you stop?” You cried out, desperate for him.

“Beg for it.” He demanded, a smug smile adorning his perfect lips.

“Please.”

“I think you can do better than that. Tell me how much you want me.” His cool fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles, as you squirmed below him.

“More,” You let out another moan, eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, don’t stop… God, harder, please.” You rambled. “Your cock -- I want your cock -- please. Don’t tease me like this.”

That’s all he wanted to hear, for you to sound like you needed his cock. That what he was doing to you was more than just a want, it was a need, a necessity. His hips met yours with force, moans leaving both of your lips, as you both began to reach your highs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You felt him shudder from behind you, his thrusts halting. “I’m gonna come.”

You were quick to get him off of you, and drop down to your knees, opening your mouth like the obedient girl you could be. And he came all over your tongue, just like you’d wanted. You watched as the man in front of you pulled up his pants, situating himself as best as he could, before he was helping you to your feet.

What you thought would be an awkward conversation about how to exit the bathroom and who should go first, was answered when he walked towards the door, not bothering to fix his half tucked in shirt or look back at you.

“Wait!” You called, watching as he paused in the doorway. “I never got your name.”

“Calum.”

***

It’d been a couple of weeks since your risqué clubbing experience with your mystery man, Calum. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about it; because you had, constantly. You’d think about him in the morning while you were getting ready for work, wondering what he was eating for breakfast. You’d think about him at work, feeling your thighs clench together instinctively just from the thought of what he’d done to you. You’d think about him at night while taking a shower, letting your fingers trail to your heat, where you’d play with yourself while thinking about him.

It’d become an obsession for you — thinking about him and the things he’d done to you and could do to you in the future. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for him to let you suck him off. Desperation is what your friend would call it and you couldn’t agree more. But the way he made you feel in a quick and sloppy fuck at a random club was so much more pleasurable than anything your ex had done in the past.

However, no matter how much you’d been obsessing over him during the last two weeks, you had no way of contacting him. You had his first name and his physical description, but that wouldn’t get you far in a big city. Fate; that’s what you left it up to. If you were supposed to see him again, you would, and if not — well, you’d fantasize about his hands around your throat for another couple of weeks before returning to the dating scene.

“I’ve got a large cold brew with almond milk for cafe.” The barista set the drink onto the counter and you gave them a quick smile before going to grab your drink.

Before you had the chance to take it, somebody snatched it from the counter and started walking away. Normally you’d let it slide and awkwardly explain to the barista that someone took the wrong drink, but you were up late last night working on a project for work and desperately needed your caffeine.

“Excuse me -- sir!” You called out, hoping he’d stop so you wouldn’t have to chase him down. The man kept walking, and you let out a sigh.

“Dude, seriously. You just took my drink.” You walked toward him, getting ready to tap on his shoulder before he turned around to face you.

Mid eyeroll, you realized who was standing in front of you. The exact man you had been obsessing over, holding your drink, which you still wanted to snatch out of his hands.

“Hey — it’s you.” He let a small laugh, licking his lips.

“It’s me.” You repeated, fiddling with your fingers. “And you’ve got my drink.”

You both looked at each other, your eyes trailing between his beautifully sculpted face and his hands that were gently grasping your cold brew. Although it sounded a bit dramatic you felt like you could melt under his gaze right at that moment. He looked so good and you couldn’t pinpoint why. He was dressed in jeans and a green empathy hoodie, a simple outfit that could have you bending over the counter in the middle of the coffee shop if he were to ask you to.

“A cold brew with almond milk?” He questioned, raising the cup slightly.

“Yes.” You nodded, looking at him with a quirked brow. “That’s what I ordered.”

“That’s what I ordered.” He shook his head at you, lips turning into a slight frown.

“Well that’s good for you, I’m sure your drink is coming up shortly. But, I really need to get out of here; I have frozens in my car. So, if you would kindly give me my drink, that would be greatly appreciated.”

He stared at you for a few seconds longer, his eyes taking all of you in, inch by inch. Until finally he extended the drink towards you. “I’m only giving you my drink if you have me over for dinner tonight.”

Needless to say you had him over for dinner that night. However, dinner was long forgotten as soon as you’d stepped into your apartment. You barely had time to put away your groceries before he was backing you up against the counter and pinning you against it with his hips. There was nowhere else you’d rather be in the world at the moment, especially when you felt his hands start to creep under your shirt, rubbing soft circles into your skin. Your lips had crashed together in fiery passion, hungry to have each other.

“I want you,” you panted between breaths. “I want you to take me right here.”

Your hands were quick to work at the button on his jeans, impatient with how slow you felt things were progressing. You’d waited weeks for this, to see him again, to be able to kiss him, to have him inside of you, and his hands roaming all around your body. Slipping one of your hands into his boxers had him letting out a breathy moan as you ran your hand up and down his length. If you were being completely honest with yourself you’d be okay with finishing him off with a handjob as long as you’d be able to continue making him feel good.

Swiping your finger across his tip had him taking a sharp breath in and fingers digging into your skin. Watching your mystery man -- Calum -- slowly fall apart in front of you was a delightful sight to see; and maybe if you were lucky enough you’d be able to see it over and over. But, if you were only given a second time and not a third or fourth, you’d make do.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hips bucking into your hand. “Gonna come soon.” He continued, lips meeting yours for another heated kiss.

Without a second thought you had dropped to your knees in front of him, working his jeans and boxers to his knees. You licked a stripe up his length before taking his head in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him. One of his hands roughly gripped your hair, tugging at your scalp, resulting in a short moan coming from your throat. You took him further in your mouth, relaxing your throat to fit all of him into you before your nose was brushing against him.

“Love when you look like this,” he started, fingers massaging at your scalp. “Love seeing my cock in your mouth, it’s been the highlight of my day.”

You stared at him expectantly, trying to swallow around him, which resulted in a twitch of his cock.

“I wanna fuck your mouth until I come. Is that okay?” He asked politely, hand cupping your cheek.

As soon as you nodded, his hand returned to your hair and his hips were quick to snap forward, bottoming out completely into your throat. He thrusted in and out of your mouth easily, getting closer with each one. His moans were soft and quiet at first, but turned into grunts the closer he came to his release. His thrusts became sloppy and you felt him twitching in your mouth. Then finally your name came out in a breathy moan as he came down your throat.

Your eyes were glassy as you looked up at him, his softening length still sitting heavy on your tongue, until you pulled away from him, a string of saliva connecting you to him. You looked so innocent as you stared up at him, big round eyes silently begging for more. Then there were your lips, which were soft and puffy, his release lingering on your tongue.

***

This happened for months -- your hookups -- and they happened in all different places and positions. You’d nearly fucked in every single square inch of both of your apartments. It was dirty, steamy, and everything you’d ever wished for. Some days it was hard and fast and you’d have bruises on your hips from his tight grip for days. But other days, you’d lazily ride him on his couch while a random sitcom was on in the background.

While the months flew by, you’d begun to see him more and more often. It started to become less about the sex and more about getting to know one another. Calum would have you over for dinner on Friday and you two would talk until the sun came up the next morning. You’d sneak in a quickie or two in there, but you’d spent most of the night getting to know one another. Filling each other in on your deepest darkest secrets. You’d delve into your family problems and he’d talk about how he felt like he was losing his passion.

But one night, while you two were rinsing off in the shower, he tugged you close and started kissing on your neck. He nipped at your earlobe and ran his fingers down your sides.

“You wanna know something?” He kissed just under your jaw.

“Hmm?” You inquired, basking in the feeling of his touch and the warm water running down your back.

“You’re the only person that’s made me come every time we’ve fucked.”

“Wait,” you furrowed your brows. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.” Droplets of water were falling off of his eyelashes and onto his cheeks while one of his hands cupped your cheek and the other loosely gripped your throat.

“Well, hopefully I can keep my streak.” You bit back a smile before going in for a long and passionate kiss.

[shyficwriter]

You're Not Broken, Ya Hear Me?

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Yondu x Reader, guest starring Peter and other Ravagers

Summary: Based off a prompt from my friend @giulscomix where Reader is coming up on a rite of passage involving having her first sexual experience and is very nervous because she doesn't wish to partake, because she's just not interested in sex at all. (i.e: Reader is Ace or Demi) She opens up to Yondu about it after he finds her hidden away and crying about it and he helps her with her problem, making her realize she isn't broken. Inspired by and using lines from this scene in Netflix's Sex Education series.

Author’s Note: Fic is SFW. Sex is talked about (obviously), but no sexual scenes occur. This also takes place in an AU where Yondu never broke the code (yet still has Peter, make that make sense lol) and therefore was never exiled from the other Ravager clans. Also, this is a long one, probably should have broken it into chapters, but here we go lol

Word Count: 10,189

The nervousness inside you grew with every passing day. You were almost seventeen- you should be happy about this! Not filled with dread about what turning that particular year would mean. You glanced at the calendar from your bed. Only three days left.

There was a rite of passage that every young man had taken before you, and would take long after you. They all whooted for joy when their time came, but you couldn't find the enthusiasm to do so, although you did your best to fake it. And as the day grew closer, the more you had to fake it.

Maybe it was because you were the only female Ravager on Yondu's team? Or maybe that had nothing to do with it. Maybe you were just... broken? Why couldn't you just be excited about this like everyone else? That thought made your chest ache as you pulled on your boots.

You didn't want to do it, this stupid rite of passage. No, it wasn't exactly like you'd be forced into a room until you "did the deed," However, you knew to refuse would be to cement your reputation as a lame prude who wouldn't know fun if it crawled up her ass. But still, you really didn't want to.

After all, who would want their first time to just be some random fuck for the sole purpose of "Becoming a man/woman" and an "official part of the crew."? Yes, you wanted more than anything to be accepted, like Peter or the others, but you wanted your first time to be with someone you loved and cared for. Now, this isn't to say that you weren't currently a respected member of the crew, but things were just... different. You knew things would change if the others knew you didn't want to go through with it. You'd be less "one of the guys" and more "the chick with the stick up her butt." You didn't want that.

You stood and took a deep breath, readying your facade before leaving your quarters to make your way down to breakfast.

As always, there were many other Ravagers also making their way from the crew quarters down to the mess hall. And, just how it had started happening the closer it got to that dreaded date, you'd encounter someone looking to congratulate you with a clap on the back, saying things like, "Ayy! How many days is it now? Bet ya can't wait, huh?" or more often, high-fives and fist bumps as your crew mates cheered you on for your upcoming "big day."

You took it all in stride, just like every other day. Big smiles, return the high-five, maybe throw in some finger guns, toss in an affirmative and that you "couldn't wait."

But each time you died just a bit inside. How long could you put on this charade? You knew you wouldn't be able to go through with it. What was going to happen then? What would the rest of the crew say when they found out? Normally it wouldn't be such a big deal for so long, when other guys came of age it was usually forgotten by the others after a few days. However, you were going to come of age the very day of the next scheduled shore leave, which was going to happen in just a few days, and for some reason this just bred excitement among your peers and they wouldn't drop it.

You tried to put these thoughts out of your head as you entered the Mess Hall and got your breakfast.

Today you got to eat in relative peace, the attention being taken up by the story Narblik was telling about his last job on an icy planet and how he hadn't been sure he'd make it back when the blizzard hit. It was when you got up to turn in your tray and leave when a few other's started back up again.

Scrote whooped when he saw you stand, crying out a "Get 'em!" at you and someone else shouted back that you were "Gonna be a man!" until someone shouted back at them "She's a girl!" earning an apology and a correction that you were "Gonna be a woman!" that earned some laughter from the others. You knew the laughter wasn't directed at you, they weren't insulting your looks. Some species on the ship just had a hard time getting genders right because the concept of gender just wasn't a thing on their homeworlds.

You passed Horuz and a young green man named Rahi who high-fived you with an "Ayyy!" as was becoming the custom greeting for anyone wanting to congratulate you on it being almost your big day. You returned the greeting. He had just turned 17 three days before along with another young man he often ran around with, and you heard him talking with some others (There were about 5 or 6 of you all either about to turn the big 17 or who recently had since the last shore leave 3 months ago. It was an abnormally large amount of young people coming of age this time around, which you suspected was further reason why some were making such a bigger deal about this upcoming shore leave.) about being excited for shore leave, as that's when they'd be able to 'become men,' aka, would be able to find a whore to screw. Younger crew often had more of the cleaning jobs aboard the Eclector, and unless assigned with an older crew mate, didn't get to go on many away missions where they could try and woo a willing partner, and even then, Yondu liked quick turnarounds on jobs so there wasn't a whole lot off "goof off" time without being reprimanded. There was no real rule about screwing crew mates either, but most avoided it just in case things got weird after. Easier to just bang someone random on shore leave and then get back to work. No muss no fuss.

Horuz teasingly asked if you had any studs picked out yet and you just laughed and said "Ha, one of these lot? You're joking!" as you put your tray away.

You heard Yondu playfully scold the two from a couple tables over, telling them, "Oh, leave the poor girl alone, yer embarrassin' her!" as he laughed. Horuz just shouted back, "Aw now, I didn't even get to tell her about Oblo here's first time!" This was met with Oblo, who was sitting nearby, choking out a "Hey!" and punching Horuz in the arm.

Kraglin laughed now, "I think she's already heard that one! Let's not ruin anyone's meal now."

You shivered. You had heard the story before. It involved a broken member and many stitches. You weren't looking forward to hearing it again. "I'm out!" you say, looking for a way out of this conversation. "Got work to do." With that you turned and started to leave the mess hall.

"That's what I like to hear!" Yondu laughed from behind you. "Some of you lazy gits should start acting like her, don't wanna work unless yer told to." He knew you were just escaping having to hear the story again, but he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to razz up some of his crew.

You finally make your way out of the mess hall and allow your grin to fall. You run a hand over your face, making your way toward the laundry where you had been assigned to repair one of the machines. You were grateful it was both early in the week as well as early in the day as you entered the room. Most of the crew waited until they were completely out of clean clothes to do their washings, which typically resulted in most of the crew crowding the laundry at the end of the week, so you were sure to have at least an hour or three alone to yourself.

You made your way to the back left-hand corner of the room towards the broken machine. It should be an easy fix, the complaint was that it wasn't draining properly, so you figured it was just a clogged drain hose.

Upon opening up the machine you found you were right. it was just a clog. You retrieved a plumbing snake from a nearby supplies trunk and got to work fishing it out. Unfortunately this menial task gave you enough time to dwell on your problems rather than engaging your brain enough to force them into the back of your mind.

You kept thinking the word "broken" over and over. You couldn't get it out of your head how you couldn't bring yourself to just be excited over something everyone else seemed to love.

Your chest tightened. "Broken.. Loser..." Why couldn't you get over it? Why didn't you have these feelings like all the others?

You latched onto the clog and worked to pull it out. "

Broken..." Why was this so hard? "Broken... Stupid... Wrong..." What was wrong with you? "Stupid... Broken..." Why couldn't you just be like everyone else?!

With that last thought you pulled the clog out with an audible "Pop!" that almost made you fly backwards. You looked at it in disgust and dropped it into the nearby trashcan before re-attaching the hose and sliding down to the floor. No one was going to show up to the laundry this early, might as well take advantage of this time to wallow in your own misery.

That's what you told yourself at least. In truth you could feel tears burning your eyes and didn't want anyone to see you cry. Better to let it happen alone than risk another crew mate seeing you and thinking you were weak.

What you didn't know was that Yondu was also well aware of his Ravager crew's laundry habits, and took advantage of the empty communal laundry room at the beginning of the week to wash his own laundry undisturbed. He made his way down after breakfast, actually having forgotten he had assigned you to fix one of the machines, and was therefore quite surprised to walk in on you sat in the corner crying.

"What d'we have here?" he asked, more puzzled than anything. He never once seen you cry, which now that he thought about it was rather surprising. He saw grown men cry at least twice a week, most of them Peter, but still. He tried to cover up any concern with humor. "Did Halfnut leave his dirty drawers in the machine again? Smell's bad enough to make anyone cry."

You had been startled when he first walked in and you were currently trying to quickly straighten yourself up. "Nothing. Sorry Captain." you said, not looking him in the eye as you bent down to pick up the plumbing snake. "Nearly done here." you say, unable to hide a sniffle.

Yondu plopped his laundry basket on one of the long steel tables running up the middle of the room and sighed, turning to walk towards the door.

You look up in surprise as you heard the lock engage.

He looked at you, arms crossed, and said, "Ya really think I'm gonna buy that? Yer not leaving here until ya spill it. Now what's wrong? Somebody bein' mean to ya? Yer feminine-ly cycle -or whatever it's called- hurtin' ya again?"

You blushed and gave him a sharp look before placing the plumbing snake back where you found it.

Yondu rolled his eyes as he moved his basket over to a machine and tossed his clothes in. "Fine, be that way. But I meant what I said. Ya ain't leavin' til we sort it out. Might as well talk or it's gonna get mighty borin' in here." He turned on the machine and hoisted himself up to sit on the table, patting the space beside him.

You begrudgingly approach, not meeting his eyes, and lifted yourself up to sit down on the table.

"Now what's wrong?" he said again.

You fix your gaze on your lap and sigh. "You're just gonna make fun of me." You say sadly.

Yondu smirks. "Maybe. Still wanna hear it though." Upon seeing your face fall further he elbowed you and said, "I'm jus' kiddin'! What's the long face?"

Your eyes remain down and you quietly say, "I... don't wanna do it."

Yondu raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"I don't wanna do it." you repeat.

"Ya dun wanna do... what?" he asks in confusion. He at first assumed maybe you didn't want to do your assigned morning task of fixing the machine, but it seemed like you had already finished it, so he had no idea what you could possibly mean to even begin to be angry for any disobeyed orders. Also, he doubted he found you crying over something as silly as not wanting to fix a washing machine.

"It," you say, "You know, IT." you make a crude gesture with your fingers, forming a circle in one hand with your thumb and index finger and inserting the index finger of your other hand in and out of it, to hopefully get the point across.

Yondu's eyes widen a bit. "Oh!" he says in surprise, before continuing in confusion, "I don't get it? Ya seemed just as excited as could be a bit ago?"

"I've been faking it. Don't want the others to make fun of me."

"Come now! They won't ma-"

He's cut off by you giving him another sharp look. He looks forward again and nods, sighing, "Yeah, yer right. They will."

The two of you were quiet for a couple moments before Yondu awkwardly broke the silence. "Ya mind if I ask why? Like are ya scared or somethin'?" he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, slight concern painting his features.

He remembered his first time. As a battle-slave he didn't exactly see much action; the Kree weren't exactly fond of the idea of their battle-slaves reproducing or having any fun; and by the time Stakar freed him he was in his twenties. It was shortly after when with some other young Ravagers that the subject came up and he admitted he had never done it, only for his mates to excitedly cheer that they were taking him with them on shore leave so he could "become a man." He had been nervous, though he never expressed it out loud, not wanting to appear weak. He knew they meant well, but screwing a random whore just to fit-in and say he had wasn't something he had exactly been looking forward to, however peer pressure had encouraged him to go through with it. It wasn't too bad, he realized, but even knowing that he himself had come to enjoy the act, he always remembered the knot in his stomach leading up to his first time, and hearing you say that you might be scared of doing it made a similar knot form, only higher in his chest and feeling more like... pity? No, that wasn't quite it. Empathy? Yes, that was probably more accurate. Damn sentiment.

"It's not anything like that... it's just... I don't feel anything like that. I'm not even sure I'd know what that feeling is. It's just not there. I'm not scared, or even disgusted, I just feel... nothing."

"I'm not sure I follow..." Yondu said honestly. He supposed you feeling nothing was better than you being scared, but he still didn't quite understand.

"Ok, like, imagine you're surrounded by a feast, with everything you could ever want to eat, but you're not hungry. That's how I feel. I just don't want any of it," you said. Your voice cracked as you continued, "...and it's just so frustrating. Everyone else gets to be normal, while I just don't feel... anything. I don't want to do it-with anyone. When I think about it I feel nothing- it's like I'm broken." You covered your mouth, still not meeting Yondu's gaze as you tried to hold back frustrated tears.

Hearing you say that you thought you were broken tore at Yondu's heart. He wrapped an arm around you tightly and said in a firm voice, "Ya listen here. Yer not broken. I don't wanna hear that again. Look here."

You reluctantly do as he asks.

"Yer not broken," he said again, his face stern. "Sex doesn't make a person whole, so how could ya ever be broken, girl?"

You inhaled sharply as fresh tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn't realized until then that that was exactly what you needed to hear. You quickly wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest to hide your tears.

Taken aback at he sudden gesture, Yondu patted you on the back comfortingly and returned the hug. Good thing he locked the door. He doubted that any of his crew would be bothered to wash their clothes this early, but still, it would halt the possibility of new rumors that he was "going soft on the Terrans." He honestly wasn't sure he'd sleep tonight if he had to scold you for crying to save face with his crew right now.

You pulled back almost as soon as you went in, straightening up and quickly wiping your eyes.

"Feel better?"

You nodded.

Yondu sighed, "What to do now..." he said thoughtfully. "Ya know, I never actually liked this whole 'rite of passage' thing, to be fully honest. Crew just gets too wound up. Yer not the first to have reservations 'bout it. Handful of lads have come to me over the years, confiding that they were nervous, but scared of being bullied by the rest of the crew if they didn't go through with it. I suspect there might have been more, but were too scared of lookin' weak to tell their captain. I guess I can understand that."

Surprised by this honesty, you asked, "What did they do?"

"Faked it. They'd go on shore leave, pay a whore to put on a good loud show, yelling and banging on the walls 'n stuff, then lap up the congratulations of the rest of the crew for 'becoming a man.'"

You were further surprised that any of the the crew would have been that open with their captain to admit faking it. "Really?" you ask. "They told you about it after?"

"Who d'ya think told 'em to do it?" Yondu said, huffing a laugh out his nose.

That makes you smile, though you aren't quite sure why. After a moment of thought you say, "If you don't like the whole thing, why don't you stop it?"

Yondu sighed. "I don't think I could if I tried. It's widespread over all 100 Ravager factions. Doubt it do well to tell one faction they couldn't participate. Enough of them look forward to it they'd probably riot." Yondu laughed sardonically. "Not that I haven't thought about trying to steer the culture around it in a different direction. I can tell some of my older crew have the same thoughts, even if they won't admit it."

"How do you know if they never said?" you asked.

"The way they keep passing off horror stories as funny tales to the younger crew. Or did ya miss the story about how Vorker-"

"Nope! Heard it!" you cut him off suddenly. "I remember! I don't need to hear it again, please!" You held up your hands almost as if defending yourself from hearing it again, eyes wide. You most definitely did not need to hear a retelling of the time Vorker caught something very nasty off a girl he met on a job and the details that came with it. There were some rumors that it was how he really lost his eye, but you weren't sure of the truth behind those claims.

Yondu chuckled, patting you on the back. His expression changed when he said. "That's prob'ly what ya should do."

You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Fake it, I mean." he clarified. "Ya should wait til ya want to do it, with someone ya want, if that should ever happen. Not just go through with it to fulfill some dumbass rite of passage." He stared off into the space in front of him. "I can't really see another way to go 'bout it." he admitted. "If I called out for a change among the crew now they'd no doubt see the connection, think I was going soft 'cause yer the only girl here, and then it'd blowback on you. I ain't gonna let that happen." He gave you a look that you understood without him having to explain further. He actually cared about you, in a way similar to how he cared for Peter. He didn't want to see you hurt or bullied over something stupid like this.

You nodded in understanding, returning your gaze to the floor.

"Next shore leave is in a few days. I'll take care of it." Yondu said, his words surprising you.

"What?"

"Consider it a gift." he said, lightly punching you in the arm as he said, "Don't say I never gave ya anythin'."

"I don't understand?" you say, lightly laughing in confusion.

Yondu dramatically rolled his eyes and said, "Guess I gotta spell it out fer ya... I'll arrange for a "fake visit" from a nice whore-bot for ya. It actually costs more for them to fake it, if ya can believe it."

You stared at him, speechless. "I- thank you?" you finally say, blushing. You give him another quick hug.

"Ya, don't get used to it." he replied in his usual gruff fashion when you released him, but you knew better. The old softie.

Just then the machine buzzed, alerting that Yondu's clothes were finished washing. He stood from the table to switch them into a nearby dryer. Once done he turned back to face you. "Well, ya probably got other duties ya need to get to. Better get on 'em."

You smiled, giving him a mock-reluctant, "Yeah," before following him to the door.

You weren't expecting what happened next.

Yondu opened the door and exited, you following out behind. The hallway was no longer empty, and you heard the same young man from earlier, Rahi, call out from a group of two other Ravagers, "Ow Ow! Looks like she finally lost it to the Captain!"

No doubt he thought he was being funny, but he really, really, shouldn't have done that.

Yondu's whistle pierced the air, his arrow quickly finding its way to rest against Rahi's throat. "Ya wanna try that again?" Yondu growled.

Rahi couldn't find any words, just babbled out incoherent nonsense as he nearly shit his pants. The other two Ravagers in the group weren't laughing, just cowering with their friend afraid they'd be next once Yondu finished with him. Other crew mates standing within the hall also stopped to stare in stunned silence.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't run my arrow through ya for speakin' to yer captain like that? Even worse offense for implying I'd screw around with a child." Yondu's eyes were dark and full of rage. Even you were a bit frightened, enough to almost let the child comment slide, and you weren't even the target.

"Dude! He's so old! Ew!" you shout over to the terrified young Ravager, hoping to help the situation by making it clear that nothing like that was ever going to be a thing. And, if you were to be honest, slight payback for Yondu calling you a child.

Yondu whipped his head around to you, and you caught a momentary expression of "You little shit!" before he said, "And don't ya forget it!"

He turned back to Rahi. "I'm waiting." he said, still glowering and crossing his arms expectantly.

Rahi was still busy freaking out. It looked like he was about to cry. He eventually managed to squeak out a, "I'm sorry!" among his pleas for Yondu not to kill him.

Yondu called back his arrow. "That's what I thought. For yer smart mouth you and the other two there are gonna wash the outside of the Eclector, and yer all gonna keep at it until the whole ship's clean." With a smug smile he added. "Guess yer all gonna miss out on shore leave."

This obviously didn't go over well with Rahi's friends, who were now glaring and smacking him at the back of his green head. The next shore leave after the upcoming one wouldn't happen for another 3 months.

"Ya heard me. Git going. And yer still all responsible fer yer other duties too." Yondu added.

The three young men begrudgingly started making their way past when Yondu stopped them again with an, "Ah, Ah, Ah." making them turn back, dreading what else he might have to add.

"I think ya better apologize to this young lady too, for thinking she'd want her first time to be with someone so old." He looked at you pointedly as he said this and you squinted back at him, a nervous giggle escaping your throat as you rubbed the back of your head. Shouldn't have spoke up and called your captain old, now he was going to have to make an example of you as well for mouthing off. "Yer gonna be cleaning out the brig for that one, missy." he said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. Had to make it look good, after all.

Rahi muttered out an apology before scurrying away with his now very irritated mates, but not before Yondu cried out after him with a, "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." He said this with a thick veil of warning. It was a threat, and one you hadn't expected to hear after the conversation you just had with him.

It was clear that no one else in hallway had expected to hear this from their captain either. Looks of shock were exchanged among the Ravagers in the hallway. Rahi and his buddies' eyes all widened in shock when his words finally sunk in and their scurry turned into a sprint to get away before they could make things even worse. That comment Rahi made had apparently pissed the captain off bad.

"What the rest of ya staring at?" Yondu said, startling the rest of the hallway dwelling crew into motion. "I know ya'll got shit to do, get on it!" He looked at you and cocked his head as if to say "Get moving." and you obeyed, making your way toward the brig to complete your extra cleaning duties.

Yondu did his best to hide a smirk as he made his way down to his quarters. He knew rumors would start spreading like wildfire about Rahi nearly causing Yondu to put an end to the rite of passage after that display. It was bound to piss more than a few of the younger crew off. He didn't care much for the lazy shit anyway, so it was better the crew think he was the reason for any upcoming changes rather than you, and if it succeeded in helping him end the whole culture around that particular thing, even better. They really did get too wound up about it.

***

The morning of shore leave came and you were nervous as hell. Yondu had pulled you aside the night before to let you know he had taken care of what he promised, and described the whore-bot he paid to help you fake it so you would know which one to accept. Still, even knowing it was taken care of you couldn't help the growing pit of nervousness in your stomach, though you did your best to hide it.

Since clearly the Eclector couldn't dock on the planet, being about a mile and a half long and all, Ravagers on shore leave would pool together on M-ships for the journey to and back, kind of like a funny buddy-system.

As per usual, you pooled in a ship with Yondu, Kraglin, and Peter along with Tullk, Oblo, and Horuz. Yondu and Kraglin sat up front to pilot, Tullk, Oblo and Horuz filled in the middle, while you and Peter got put in the back, as always.

While the older men laughed and carried on in front of you, you felt Peter nudge you in the arm. You looked over to see him looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "You ok?" he asked, having noticed how you were unusually quiet and fidgety.

"Yeah, I'm great." you lied, "Never better."

Peter rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. "Don't give me that. Are ya nervous?" he asked, obviously knowing full well what everyone expected you'd be doing on this shore leave. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

You gave him a look, saying, "No!" before coming clean with a, "Fine. A little." as you turned your gaze down into your lap to fidget with your watch some more.

"It'll be ok," he assured, "I was a little nervous my first time, too," he admitted. Peter was a few years older than you at 20, and it was hard for you to picture him having been nervous about it, seeing as he now seemed to be trying to work his way through every cute girl in the galaxy.

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him skeptically.

"Yeah. I mean, I was still super excited, but I was a little nervous too. Those horror stories the older guys tell us really get to you."

You giggled with him, remembering what Yondu had told you the other day.

Peter continued, "But anyway, you're gonna be fine. But I did want to give you this." He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and handed it to you. It was a condom.

"Peter!" you whisper-shouted, blushing.

"Hey, if you're gonna do it, I wanna know you're being smart about it. Always use protection. Even with the Love-bots. Can't ever be too careful." He held his hand out more insistently.

You blushed harder and accepted the gift, even though you knew you wouldn't be needing it. "Thanks."

"Come on now, don't get all frowny on me. I'm just looking out for you." Peter teased, aiming a few pokes at your ribs, knowing it always got a good giggle or two out of you.

It worked. Giggles escaped your throat as you twisted in your seat and swatted at his hand, "Quit it!" you squeaked, but his mission was accomplished anyway, you were smiling now.

"There we go!" he teased, grinning at you.

"Shush!" you replied, sticking your tongue out at your friend and laughing when he flicked you in the arm for it. Soon enough the two of you were in a slap battle. You weren't really fighting, and neither of you struck with the intent to hurt (well, not much anyway) it was just how the two of you played sometimes. This carried on until you heard Yondu announce that you all had made it to your destination, and then the nervousness started to creep back into your belly.

Peter and you were the last off the ship. Yondu and the other men headed off, leaving the two of you to your own devices with calls to behave yourselves, but "not too much" *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*

You almost wished he had stuck around longer, but you knew he had already done his part. It would look weird if he stuck around to hold your hand, so to speak. You look to Peter, wanting to stall just a bit longer. "So, ya hungry?"

"Figured you'd want to get right to business," he teased. He knew you were probably stalling, but decided to go along with it anyway rather than abandon you straight away. You had been here before, but he knew this time was different. This time there was a pressure to do something new, and you had already admitted you were nervous about it.

"Uh, can't do it on an empty stomach," you say, forcing a smile.

He ruffled your hair. "Good point. I'm starving." He suggested you two grab some fries at the nearby bar inside the brothel (the whole place was the brothel, let's be honest) and you followed him.

When you both had finished you tried to think of something else to stall, maybe play some pool? However, you never got the chance, for a whore-bot with green hair and looking to be around your age came over to your table to greet you. It was the one Yondu told you to look for, and it asked if it could "show you a good time." You looked nervously at Peter who shot you a thumbs up while trying not to laugh. You glanced back at the bot and tentatively nodded, which Peter took as a sign to high-tail it out of there, leaving you alone. The bot asked for your ID, as you knew it would, and part of you wished you "forgot" it back on the ship, knowing that the bots were programed to refuse service to anyone under the age of 17 and required ID of younger-looking patrons to prove it.

After scanning your ID, the bot took you by the hand and flirtatiously led you across the room to a set of stairs. You began to hear some cheers as you ascended the stairs behind the bot and you were blushing too hard to even attempt to ham it up for their benefit.

Once in the room the bot turned to you. "I understand this isn't meant to be an ordinary engagement. Mr. Udonta left instructions to only perform counterfeit coitus, correct?"

You blushed and nodded, taken aback by the professionalism of the sex-bot, before wondering if you were being rude by assuming otherwise.

"Have you done this before?"

You shook your head, still blushing.

"It's alright. There's plenty of time to figure it out. I've been booked for three hours."

You sputtered. "Excuse me?!" you cried, trying not to be too loud. "Three-? What are we supp-"

The bot gave a laugh and held up its hand. "Do not worry, Miss. I was paid extra to deliver that joke. Mr. Udonta felt it would be very funny. I've only actually been booked for an hour, the standard amount of time."

You let a sigh of relief. You still felt that an hour was going to drag on, but at least it wasn't flarkin' three. "So, what do we do?"

The bot took your hand again and led you to the large bed in the center of the room. "Lie down here." You looked at the bot nervously and it clarified. "The noises will be more realistic if both our weights are on the bed."

You did as the bot instructed and it climbed over you. "I understand this may be awkward, but I'll ask that you trust the process. I will do this," the bot began to rhythmically rock its body back and forth, each rock ending in its hands hitting the headboard and making it knock into the wall behind it. "and then you can start making moaning sounds, you can repeat after me." The bot then started moan, encouraging you with a gesture of its hand when you were too busy blushing to follow the lead. You did your best to mimic the sounds. "We shall continue like this for 10 minutes, and then rest." the bot instructed, ushering you again with more hand gestures when you paused to give it a puzzled look.

After several minutes the bot prompted you to get louder, and then louder again still a few moments after. You realized it was coaching you to simulate you approaching the climax and you got nervous again, not knowing what to do when "that moment" was meant to happen. The bot read your face and told you to relax, just follow it's lead as it thumped against the wall faster and it moaned louder.

You followed its lead until it told you to make a last few loud "Oh's!" and then it began to slow its thumping before coming to a stop.

Whoops and laughter could be heard from the bar outside the door shortly after, and you blushed harder as the bot crawled off of you. "We will now have a few minutes of rest before beginning another simulation."

You sat up. "So we'll just keep repeating like this until the time's up?" you asked.

"Not quite," answered the bot. "We'll change things up a bit, different positions, different sounds, helps to keep it interesting."

"This seems like a lot of work?" you say.

"Yes, well we're paid to put on a show here. Might as well ensure it's convincing," the bot answered with a shrug and a smile.

You winced as you realized you could hear similar noises you had just faked coming from the rooms next to yours and then more whooping and cheering once they, too, stopped. "The walls are kinda thin in here, huh?" you say awkwardly.

The bot smiled sympathetically, "It seems that way, but not really. Only the louder noises make it out. Normal conversation levels are typically left unheard from outside the rooms, so you're clear to speak freely if that was a concern."

"Good to know," you say. You honestly had been a little concerned about that. "So, do we just sit around then?"

"I could give you a massage, if you'd like."

"That... actually sounds really nice. Sure, thank you." You accept the offer, realizing you could use a little stress reliever. "What's your name, by the way?" you ask, feeling a bit guilty for not having asked the bot's name before then and wondering if you should feel silly about that or not.

"You may call me Finn," the bot answered, not seeming fazed in the slightest. "Would you prefer to remove your clothes or leave them on?" The bot- Finn- motioned for you to turn around to give it access to your back.

"Um, clothes on, please?" you say, reaching for your zipper. "But I'll take off my jacket."

"Alright." The bot said, it's tone not caring in the slightest, and you supposed it very likely didn't care one way or another. It went straight to work, starting slow by gathering your hair and pulling it back and up almost as if it were going to tie your hair in a ponytail, but instead of securing an elastic it just repeated this motion a few more times. It was actually very relaxing, and it made you wish you had someone around to play with your hair more often.

With a final gentle tug the bot moved one hand to your forehead while the other worked at the back of your neck, kneading where the nape of your neck met your skull, making you close your eyes and sigh deeply.

To your delight the bot then threaded its fingers through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. A soft hum escapes you as you stopped yourself from leaning into to touch out of shyness, and you almost let out a whine when the scratching stopped. However, you were soon soothed by the bot beginning to knead into your neck and shoulders.

You had just barely stopped yourself from moaning once when the bot then pressed into another spot that made it impossible to not make a sound, though you tried. Finn speaks up. "Let yourself relax fully," the bot encouraged. "It's alright to allow yourself to be noisy here, may even work to your benefit under the circumstances."

You giggled slightly and blushed. Finn was right, after all. If there were any time to just let go and relax it would technically be here and now. Before you could think much further Finn had dragged the knuckles of each thumb up each side of your spine with just the right amount of pressure to coax a genuine moan out of you, surprising you as it happened. You had never really realized before just how much stress your work as a Ravager took out on your back. You began to wonder if these Love-bots were also designed to be professional masseuses, because Finn seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and it was amazing.

Finn ended the massage a bit later by working back up your back and working their fingertips back into your hair for a last bit scalp massage.

You were almost disappointed when it ended, but when it was over you turned to look at the Love-bot. "Thank you, that was really nice." you say.

"Anytime." Finn smiled. "We still have twenty minutes left, shall we begin another simulation?"

You sighed. "I suppose. He paid for an hour, might as well act like I'm using it." You smiled, not feeling quite as bitter about the situation anymore after the massage. Finn really did have magic fingers. Or state of the art massage programing. Probably the latter.

"Indeed." Finn answered. "After all, there are no refunds."

You let out a slight chuckle at the bot's bluntness. "Alright, so what now?"

The next simulation involved you both standing on the edge of the bed with the wall to hold your balance as you bounced slightly up and down to make the bed squeak. The bot encouraged your to make similar noises as before, but to also throw out some curses, like, "Oh! Fuck!" It even did the same, occasionally calling out a "Yes! Right there! Oh, yes!" that made you raise an eyebrow. You had to fight from giggling the whole time at the situation. It was pretty funny after all. You were both jumping on the bed like children.

When that simulation had finished you sat down on the bed and looked at Finn. "Do you guys... er...-bots?... feel anything?" you asked, referring to the language the bot had used earlier. "Or are you just supposed to say stuff like that as an act?"

"We don't have nerve endings, and therefore we don't really 'feel things' like you might, but there are certain sensors that can be activated during a session with a client and prompt a correct response. However, as this session is only a simulation, I suppose you can call my dialogue 'acting.'"

You half-grinned when the realization of the bot's words hit you. "Are you saying... you're like a 'sexy' arcade game?" you say, trying not to giggle, before becoming suddenly afraid that might have been offensive. "I mean- obviously you're not a toy- I mean- I didn't mean to offend you."

The bot chuckled. "There's no need to worry. There are certain similarities, one could see how you might draw that conclusion."

You blushed again and attempted to change the subject. "So... what are we going to do with the last simulation?"

"You have a couple options. We can simulate against the door, or we can simulate bending over the bed. We could also simulate oral, but the noises you made during the massage more or less already worked in its favor."

You blushed at that. You already knew the door was out of the question, as you had an admittedly irrational fear that it might pop open as you were faking the deed. "We can try over the bed."

"Very well. This one will require less movement of you, you may remain seated there." Finn said as they stood up and moved to stand with their legs between your own. "This one may also be a bit awkward," the bot warned, "as it requires thrusting into the bed on my part. Ready?"

You nodded hesitantly and the bot began a steady rhythm of motion against the bed, making it creak.

The bot was right. This was more awkward, and you were grateful when it was finally over with about five minutes to spare.

You stood from bed and grabbed your jacket. "Thanks. This wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be." you said truthfully. In fact, you really almost thought you'd come back if for no other reason than to get another back rub.

"You still have five more minutes, is there anything else I can do for you today?"

You smiled shyly and said, "Well, I won't argue if you play with my hair again..."

***

You were of course greeted with congratulatory cheers and high-fives when you exited the room along with the other few crew mates who had recently come of age... and had still been allowed to attend shore leave that is. R.I.P Rahi and his friends. (They hadn't died, but you can bet they were probably really regretting pissing Yondu off.)

A few fellow Ravagers bought you some congratulatory drinks and the rest of the night seemed to fly by.

Eventually you caught back up with Peter and shortly after that Yondu announced it was time to head back, which of course received some disappointed grumbling among the crew. However, nobody argued, knowing it might cost them their next shore leave if they got "fussy like toddlers" as Yondu would say.

You and Peter got back to the ship to find Tullk and Oblo already there waiting. Horuz showed up just after and sighed to see Yondu and Kraglin weren't there yet. Yondu and Kraglin were the only ones with keys to Yondu's M-ship, so you all had to stand outside and converse among yourselves as he took his sweet time getting there.

He was probably just paying the Sneeper woman who owned the place and would be there any minute, but 'any minute' still felt like forever when it was cold.

Eventually he and Kraglin did show up and unlock the ship so you could all get in.

Once inside the ship and mostly everyone had strapped in Kraglin called back to you from the co-pilots seat with tipsy laughter in his voice. "So d'ya have fun? Feel any different? Any horror stories to add to the list?" He looked teasingly at Oblo and Oblo flipped him the bird.

Yondu swatted at him, saying, "Aw, leave the girl alone," but there was also laughter in his scolding, so he wasn't that serious.

You answered anyway. "Ya. Had a blast, Kraglin. Smooth sailing. Just a little sleepy."

This made the other men chuckle, though you weren't entirely sure why, although you could guess.

Yondu piped up. "If she falls asleep Quill's gotta carry her in."

Peter scoffed with a laugh. "Why do I gotta?" he said, before turning to you to add. "You better not fall asleep then."

"Well if you fall asleep I ain't carrying you in! Probably break my back if I tried. You can just stay sleeping in the ship." you laughed back.

"Why you little!" Peter cried out with a grin, aiming to poke you in the ribs, but you dodged him, returning a swat of your own to his arm. And, like on the way over, the two of you were engrossed in another slap battle. The others just let you two carry on, busy with their own conversations and laughing amongst themselves.

Eventually you and Peter did tire yourselves out and Yondu chuckled to the other men when after docking the ship he noticed you had both fallen asleep, curled up in your respective seats. Oblo snapped a picture, cooing, "Aw look! Ain't that precious!"

"Send that to me." Yondu said with a grin. "Might blow it up, hang it in the Mess Hall." This earned a laugh from the others. He looked at Tullk with a grin before exiting the ship. "Ya better wake 'em. I'm sure as hell not carryin' them to bed."

***

The next morning Yondu was alone in his quarters when he decided to call up Stakar.

After a few rings Stakar's face comes up on the screen, and the two men give a Ravager salute in greeting before Stakar asks what's brought Yondu to call him.

"I wanna talk to ya about that whole coming of age and having sex thing."

Stakar raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"Younger crew just get too wound up about it. It ain't healthy." Yondu responded.

Stakar still looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Ya know what I mean." Yondu said firmly. "They get all wound up like it's the most important thing in the world, and it's because everyone makes a big old deal outta something silly like that."

"It hasn't been a problem before?" Stakar said thoughtfully. "What's changed? It's that Terran girl isn't it? Of course. She just came of age." Stakar shook his head. "I don't care what you say, you're soft on her and Peter. You can't get attached and let them influence your judgement like that, Yondu."

"No, it ain't like that," Yondu said, trying to cover his ass and continuing before Stakar can interrupt him. "It's got nothin' to do with them. I just can't have my crew bullying their mates just cause they don't wanna fuck yet or lettin' the whole thing get to their heads makin' them all disrespectful-like. Almost had to keel-haul a few boys who suddenly thought they were big enough to start disrespecting their captain over it."

Stakar looked at him suspiciously. "No, we can't have that... What do you propose then? It's not like we can stop them. You tell young people they can't do something, they're only gonna do it more."

"I know that- Look. I'm not sayin' we do away with it entirely. I could care less what they do on shore-leave. But we can maybe make them realize it's not such a big damn deal. Ya know, slow-like. Maybe they'd stop getting so wound-up about it." Yondu said, quickly adding, "If they're less focused on that maybe they'd work harder."

Stakar thought for a bit. Yondu was right, he thought. He had noticed the younger crowd getting a bit wound up about it, and sometimes they did let the excitement get ahead of their duties... "Maybe you're right," he conceded. "If it's affecting their jobs maybe we should try and change the culture around it... I'll talk with some of the other captains and get back to you."

Yondu grinned and nodded. "All I ask."

***

You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. It was the day after shore-leave and no one had brought up how you "Became a woman" at all. It was as if the previous week's excitement had been completely forgotten, and you couldn't be happier.

You did notice in the following days that Rahi seemed to be getting a bit of flack. He hadn't been particularly well liked before, always trying to push his duties off on other crew mates or blaming others for things he had broken, but now he was practically a pariah. Even his buddies didn't seem to want much to do with him, though that could be because they were still mad that they had been dragged under into his punishment despite not having done anything to deserve it other than be with him at the time.

You almost felt bad for him until Peter explained that along with the 'written' rule that Ravagers don't deal in kids; harming or forming inappropriate relationships with children and teens (i.e: having sexual relations with younger crew) was also a HUGE no-no. Even worse if the offender is someone high-ranking. Rahi, though he just thought he was being funny, had more or less unwittingly falsely accused Yondu of breaking that part of the code with the joke he made, hence why Yondu had been so offended and pissed. Peter was honestly surprised Yondu had let him live after that.

He also added that no one wants to be around someone who thinks it's funny to make those particular jokes. Real accusations of that nature are taken very seriously among Ravager Clans, so if someone is found to just be flippantly saying crap like that, the general feel is that it makes it harder for real victims to be heard, so the crew will tend to shun the offender to make it clear that behavior isn't acceptable. And well, if the offender didn't learn their lesson pretty quick and get back into the good graces of their captain and crew, they'd quickly find themselves to be cannon fodder.

Even Ravagers know there's a line between raunchy and unacceptable.

There may have also been the matter that when Yondu had said "I'm startin' to think some of ya are gettin' a lil' too wound up about this lil' rite of passage among ya young-ins. It'd sure be a shame if you were the reason I decided to put an end to it." much of the crew, after the rumor had gotten twisted up a bit via game of telephone, had taken it to mean that Rahi had almost gotten shore-leave taken away from everyone- forever. And well, that just didn't sit right with a lot of folks. It was a final nail in the coffin, if you will.

However, what you didn't know was about Yondu's conversation with Stakar.

Stakar did go talk to the other captains, and more than a few did finally admit similar instances among their younger ranks after having heard through the grapevines about a giant stink a lad called Rahi had caused on Udonta's ship. They admitted to instances of bullying, pressure, and disrespect occurring and directly related to the particular rite of passage and collectively agreed with Yondu that a change surrounding the culture could be beneficial, much to Yondu's surprise, and also his relief.

He never did tell you about his conversation with Stakar, though he was sure you may start to suspect if everything went well and things started changing regarding that particular aspect of life. As long as no one else had to feel like he saw you feeling that night in the laundry, he'd be happy.

You had come to his quarters the day after the visit to Contraxia, knocking almost as soon as he had hung up with Stakar. You had wanted to thank him him for helping you, both with the advice and with the Love-Bot. You told him how you felt so much better after having that talk with him, and how you no longer felt broken.

He'd never say, because screw sentiment, but it warmed his heart to know he helped you realize there was nothing wrong with you, that you had never been damaged. You two parted with a hug and he let you know to not be afraid if you needed to come to him about stuff like that in the future, just not to make a habit of telling the others lest they accuse him of going soft.

You were his little girl, something else he never intended to say out loud, because again, screw sentiment. He felt a responsibility for your well-being, even if you could be a little shit like Peter sometimes.

Ah, fuck sentiment. He knew you two were his kids, and he was damn proud.

***

About a week after shore leave you and Peter happened across Yondu outside the Mess Hall doors as you were heading in for supper.

"Hey, look! It's Terran One and Terran two!" Yondu said, oddly loudly.

"Um, hi?" You gave him an odd look. "What's up?"

"Now why would ya think somethin's up? Can't a captain greet his crew outside the Mess Hall before dinner?"

'Something's definitely up.' you thought, sharing a glance with Peter who was clearly thinking the same thing. "Are we in trouble? Did we do something?" Peter chuckled nervously. He didn't know about you, but he had maybe definitely rigged a supply closet in the control room with some firecrackers, and he wasn't sure if some poor soul (probably Kraglin) had already fell victim to it, meaning he was about to be in hot water.

You were also grinning nervously. You didn't know about Peter's firecrackers, but you had also maybe definitely hidden some poppers under the cushion of Yondu's desk chair that morning when he was busy on the other side of the ship, but you weren't going to just turn yourself in without more information, now were you?

"I dunno, you tell me." Yondu said, smirking. "Are you in trouble? Ya'll got a guilty conscience?"

You and Peter shared a nervous glance. You both knew you both were most definitely guilty of something, however you two had a code. Never turn yourself in, and never turn your buddy in. You looked back at Yondu, suppressing a nervous giggle. "No? I don't think so?"

Kraglin then came outside the Mess Hall doors to stand with Yondu. Kraglin had a big shit eating grin on his face, almost as if he were trying not to laugh when he saw you and Peter there.

Yondu threw him a glance which Kraglin returned with a nod. You noticed this and you exchanged another look with Peter. Something was definitely up. This felt like a trap.

"Well, what're ya waiting for? Get in there and grab some supper!" Yondu ordered, grinning strangely. He opened the door for you- oh shit something was absolutely up here.

You and Peter eyed him suspiciously but obeyed, entering the Mess hall without a word.

Once inside you noticed the rest of the crew inside were all oddly quiet, all staring at the two of you with grins and some suppressing giggles behind their hands. You heard the doors shut behind you and turned to see Yondu and Kraglin standing in front of them, both donning the biggest shit eating grins of all time.

"Cap'n has a surprise for you guys, d'ya- do ya like it?" Kraglin asked, trying to suppress his own giggles.

You heard Peter exclaim a, "Oh hell no!" and you turned to see what had caught his attention, noticing the crew had finally broke out into loud raucous laughter around you.

Hanging high on the wall about 10 feet to the right of the Mess Hall entrance doors was a humongous blown up photo of you and Peter. It was the photo you guys didn't know Oblo had snapped when you returned from Contraxia. It showed the two of you each curled up asleep in your respective seats of Yondu's M-ship. Peter was sucking his thumb. You were cuddling one of Yondu's softer dash toys.

You both paled as you stared up at the giant poster hung high on the wall. Hung conveniently high enough that neither of you would be able to reach it to rip it down, although Peter made a few good attempts.

Your eyes narrowed at your captain as he approached you, his laughter matching that of the crew. He pulled you towards him and ruffled your hair as he asked. "What's the matter? Ya don't like yer surprise?"

You glared up at him as Peter was now climbing up on a chair in a vain attempt to reach and pull the photo down. "This so means war, blue man!"

"Don't pick fights ya can't win, pipsqueak." Yondu laughed. "Consider this payback for those poppers in my chair, and ya can tell Peter this is for those firecrackers in the supply closet."

You sighed and punched him in the arm, but he only laughed and pulled you in close to ruffle your hair again, "Oh lighten up! Ya don't really expect me to just let my kids have all the fun, huh?"

You jerked your head towards him with a surprised expression, and it seemed it was only then he realized what he had said. Grateful that no one else would have heard it over his noisy crew he attempted to backtrack. "Uh, don't read too much into it." he said, clapping you on the back and announcing to Kraglin that he was going to grab some food. Kraglin, who was busy laughing at Peter, who had seemingly given up his attempts to rip down the photo in favor of walking dejectedly back over to you, nodded and joined his Captain in obtaining some supper.

Peter and you turned to face the photo again, the laughter from the crew still not having died down. Peter spoke first. "This means war, right?"

"Definitely. I had already set up a dye pack in Yondu's shower earlier. He'll be a weird shade of purple by morning," you affirmed with a grin.

"Nice. We gotta get one on Kraglin too."

"Absolutely," you reply. "After supper?"

"Yeah. After supper." Peter agreed.

The two of you made your way to get your supper, ignoring the laughs and teases of the other Ravagers along the way and discussing further options of getting Yondu and Kraglin back for this.

He may be like a father to you two, but that didn't mean he'd get off easy.

[wlntrsldler]

Hey! For the Taylor Swift / Harry Potter prompt thing could you please do Fred and I Think He Knows? Much thanks!!❤️❤️

PROMPT: based on i think he knows by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N drunkenly confesses her feelings. 

WC: 2.1K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

i think he knows (f.w one shot)

“Ron,” you hissed from across the table. The boy remained oblivious, munching down on the pile of breakfast he dumped on his plate. He seemed to inhale the food, nevermind with chewing and actually tasting it. He just swallowed it in large pieces to make room in his mouth for some more eggs and hashbrowns. You flicked a piece of balled up napkins towards him, “Ron!”

“Blimey, Y/N,” he finally looked away from his food and shot you an annoyed look. “What the hell is going on with you?” 

“I think he knows,” you whispered, chewing on your bottom lip, nervously. 

“Who? Fred?”

You rolled your eyes, looking over to where the older twin sat a few people away from the both of you, “Who else, you idiot? Yes Fred!” 

“I doubt it,” Ron shrugged, returning to his plate of food, like you were just a distraction to him, not much of a best friend. “He’s an oblivious git. He probably doesn’t know.”

“Probably?!” you half shrieked, half whispered. It was loud enough for the twins to hear, looking at you concernedly. You sent a shy wave their way and hid behind the comfort of your hands. “I want to jump off the Astronomy tower.” 

“Well, he’s gonna find out if you keep acting like this, Y/N,” he stated, obviously. Again, you flicked a balled up napkin his way, not really appreciating his tone with you. He flicked it back, “I’m just saying, stop acting suspicious and just act normal.”

Act normal, you thought, that’s easy enough, right? 

But what the hell does normal even mean?

-

You knew you probably shouldn’t have drank so much. Your tolerance has deteriorated tremendously after not drinking for a year but when Angelina kept offering you shots, you couldn’t refuse. Now, the common room seemed to spin around after each step you took, leading you back to where you started. Right beside the table of half eaten snacks and spiked drinks. 

The Gryffindor team won the Quidditch match today and after a long, hard, school week, the team decided it would be best to blow off some steam with a little party. Fred and George were across the room, surrounded by a group of adoring, young Gryffindors. They gushed around them, complimenting them on their amazing plays in today’s match. You knew they loved the attention with the way Fred couldn’t keep the twinkle in his eye subdued for too long and the way George nudged his brother’s side every time someone reenacted one of their moves. It wasn’t hard to believe that they were some of the most popular boys to ever strut on campus. 

You took baby sips from your cup, watching the older twin intently. He wore a cozy-looking jumper, like his twin, making you think about how nice it would be to sleep in it with his scent filling your senses. His hair was a bit longer than usual, the side of it tucked behind his ear. His laughter was the only thing you could hear despite the loud music that Hermione’s Muggle radio played beside your ear. You were so focused on Fred that you didn’t notice Ron staring at you, trying to hold in his laughter. 

“You’re so whipped.” 

Startled, you clutched your chest and turned to your best friend. You smacked his upper arm, irritated that he always seems to catch you when you’re staring at his brother so hopelessly in love. “Can you shut up?” 

Ron laughed, passing you his drink, “You need to get drunk.” 

“Am I not already?” 

“You’re in your ‘I’ll oggle at Fred’ phase drunk,” he explained, shoving his cup with mysterious liquor into your hand. “I need you at your ‘I have no filter so I say things that I’ll regret or will get me in trouble’ phase drunk. I need a good laugh.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but took the cup, nonetheless. “Aren’t you already having a field day with how pathetic I am pining after your brother?” 

“Sure,” he shrugged, filling the cup up for you again. “But I want you to insult Pansy like last time. That was good fun.” 

You took the drink in his hand, downing the entire liquid. You grimaced as it burned your throat, in a good way. You chuckled at the memory, sending your best friend a wink, “I’d fight Pansy sober.” 

Four more drinks later, you were at that phase. Ron retired a bit early, mumbling something about wanting to get to the dormitories before Harry could stumble in with Ginny and scar him for life. You ignored him, not really wanting to picture that scene in your head. Now, you were bouncing off the walls, spewing out your deepest secrets to anyone that dared to listen. 

You were having good fun until you tried to refill your cup and a hand grabbed yours, preventing you from doing so. You were about to protest when you looked up and saw a redhead. Usually you would be able to tell the twins apart because you know Fred and you know George, but whatever it was that Ron gave you, made your vision so blurry you couldn’t possibly tell them apart. Maybe you just drank too much tonight. 

“I think that’s enough,” he chuckled, pulling the cup away from you. “Want me to take you back to your dormitory?”

You pursed your lips, trying to figure out which twin it was that’s speaking to you. The harder you tried, the harder it seemed to be. They were both handsome, no doubt about it, but with Fred you usually felt your chest tighten and your mouth going dry. The problem is, you’ve drank so much that you emotionally felt numb and your mouth is already dry from the alcohol in your system. Finally, you decided to guess. It’s a 50/50 shot after all. 

“Sure, Georgie, I’d appreciate that,” you mumbled, walking alongside him towards the way to the girls’ dormitories. “Your arsehole of a brother left me by myself. Can you believe that?” 

Fred was almost offended that you couldn’t tell him and George apart, almost. But he took a look at your inebriated state and decided that he’ll let you slide this time. Plus, he heard a lot about your ‘truth serum’ phase drunk but he was yet to experience it, until today. He found it quite charming, but then again, he always found you charming. 

He’s had a crush on you for so long. One day you walked into the Burrow, and suddenly you were no longer his little brother’s best friend. You were Y/N. And he fell head over heels for you. Fred found you funny and gorgeous and sweet and so adorably cute, that sometimes George would have to hit him in the back of the head to get him to stop daydreaming over you. But alas, he thought you only saw him as your best friend’s brother. 

“I’ve got a lot of brothers, Y/N,” he chuckled beside you, arms at the ready in case you were about to fall over. “You’ve got to be more specific than that, love. You talking about Percy? Ron, maybe? Fred?” 

“Well, Percy is an arse but for a whole different reason,” you started, as if pondering the moments that you personally disliked his brother. This pulled out a snort from Fred because he agreed with you. Percy was an arse. You continued, “But no, I’m talking about Ronald, of course! He just leaves me there at a party that he dragged me into!” 

“Yeah, that’s a dick move, innit?” 

“I’d say so,” you hummed. Before you could stop yourself from talking, the alcohol took over your senses. “I’d never call Fred an arse, you see. I think he’s far too fit to be an arse.” 

As you entered your dormitory, Fred’s eyebrows shot up. Did you just call him fit? He led you to your bed, watching fondly as you plopped down on the cushion, “Is that so?” 

“Definitely,” you chuckled, burying your head into your pillow. “Don’t tell him this, Georgie, but I fancy him. I fancy him a lot.” 

“Do you now?” Fred’s cheeks reddened as he watched you nod and smile up at him, eyes droopy. 

“Yeah, I do,” you sat up, raising your pinky up in the air. “Pinky promise me that you won’t tell Freddie? Or-or use that twin telepathy thing that I think you guys have! Please, Georgie, you can’t tell him. I’ll be far too embarrassed if you do.” 

Unable to fight the smile on his face, he linked your pinkies together, “I promise, Y/N. But I don’t think you’d get embarrassed if he found out. Anyone would be lucky to have you have a crush on them.” 

“You’re sweet, Georgie,” you smiled, already half-asleep. “If only Fred thought the same as you.” 

Fred laughed as you dozed off, leaning against your bedpost. He draped a blanket over your small figure and placed a kiss on your temple before whispering, “He does. Goodnight, love.” 

-

“I’m never drinking again,” you groaned, rubbing your head with your hands. Hermione laughed beside you, ushering you to continue walking to get some breakfast to nurse your hangover. “I can’t believe I told George about my crush on Fred.” 

“Well, he’s bound to find out anyway,” she shrugged as you two sat in front of Ron and Harry. 

“Find out what?” Harry asked, not bothering to greet the two girls with a good morning. And to be honest, with the way you looked like you’d just been pulled out of another dimension, he assumed it has not been a good morning so far. 

Hermione giggled as she filled her plate, “Y/N told George about her crush on Fred last night.”

“Correction,” you interrupted, “Drunk Y/N did. Sober Y/N is regretting that decision.” 

“Wait you told George? When?” Ron asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you tell him before he came into my room to show me a prototype for their shop?” 

You stared at Ron like he was stupid, “What are you on? He walked me to my room last night.” 

“No, he was in my room last night.” 

“Well, he can’t be at two places at once, can he, Ronald?” you sighed a hint of attitude in your tone, shaking your head at your friend. The table froze, jaws hanging wide, before you caught on. Oh shit. You gasped, clasping your palm over your mouth, “Please tell me I didn’t.”

Ron erupted in unsympathetic giggles, laughing at your pale complexion, “Y/N, you told Fred you fancied him!” 

Eyes wide, you shook your head furiously, “No I didn’t!” 

“Well now we know why you’re not a Ravenclaw,” Harry added, joining Ron in his laughter fit. 

“Shut it, Potter!” you hissed, dropping your head in your hands. This cannot be happening. “Godric, please can the universe just eat me alive now?”

“Well now, he definitely knows.”

“Ronald, stop it.” Hermione poked your side, a terrified look on her face. “Uh, Y/N?”

“What?” Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, Fred was walking to where you’re sat. Your heart was jumping in your chest. Your palms grew sweaty and you couldn’t stop your foot from nervously tapping on the floor. Should I run, you thought, or should I just act like nothing happened? 

Before you could make a decision, Fred took a seat beside you. 

“Hello, darling,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip. 

You squirmed in your seat, trying to ignore Ron and Harry’s muffled giggles in the back. You gulped, “Hiya, Fred. How you doin’ today?” 

“Lovely, thanks for asking,” he replied, a smile still etched on his face. He cocked his head to the side, “And yours, love?” 

You swallowed down the butterflies that flew in your stomach. You played with your thumbs, unable to look at him in the eye. “Fine.” 

“Good, good.” 

“Yup.” 

“Well, good talking to you,” Fred got up and dusted his pants, leaving you dumbfounded in your seat. Was that it? Well, you thought, that wasn’t so bad. You turned around, offering him a tight-lipped smile out of courtesy, before turning back around and returning to your food. 

“That was anticlimactic, wasn’t it?” Ron frowned. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Fred stopped and walked over to you again. He leaned down so close that you could smell the mint toothpaste he used that morning. His breath tickled your ear, making you shiver. Fred’s lips touched the skin that connected your neck and your ear, pressing a soft kiss there. Then he whispered, “I fancy you, too.” 

He shot you a wink before walking away. You blushed furiously, fingers raising up to trace the place where his lips once were. Grinning at your friends, you breathed out, “I think he knows.”

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

[kpop-hive]

It Started In Italy

Osaki Shotaro x Reader, Romeo and Juliet based AU.

Warnings ⚠️: Language, Violence, Graphic Scenes, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Marking, Slight Praise, Slight Cockwarming, Mentions of blood, nausea, vomiting, arranged marriage and pregnancy.

I have arranged for this dialogue to be written Shakespearean language. Sorry if some of the dialogue is confusing I tried my best. 😊

Word Count: 10.4k Oops 🤭

Act I

Scene i

8:42 a.m. The sun kissed your skin as you awoke from your slumber. The white bedsheets spread across your skin smoothly as you rolled over, looking towards your bedroom door, there lay your big black suitcase packed and ready for placement in the car along with the silk dress you were ready to wear for the long flight to the Almafi Coast. You’ve always wanted to see Italy. Your father never took you and your mother with him when he went there for business. You’ve dreamt of going to Italy since you were litte, you always heard of stories about the food, clothes, structure and beautiful people. You’ve always thought about what you could find in Italy, your future, estates, love, your possibilities were endless. Now, the dream you’ve dreamt up for so long is finally coming true.

“(Y/n)! Why is my daughter still lay in her slumber!? We have to leave the house in thirty minutes and here thou are still in twilight’s clothes. Are thou not ready for Italy?” Your mother spoke. “Yes mother, has my own mother think slothfulness has been bestowed upon me? I will be ready for our departure quick and swiftly.” “Well, hurry up, thou father gets mad when thee is tardy.” Your mother says before exiting and closing the door. You sighed to yourself before getting up and headed to your bathroom for your morning routine.

You headed down to the kitchen to have some breakfast before you leave. Grabbing a bowl and some oatmeal, you pour it into the bowl, add some water, and throw it in the microwave. You went to the fridge to get some fruit to have with the oatmeal, and then your mom walked in.

“Darling, make sure thou doth not eat too much, bloating will not be accepted when there are so many young men that would adore being thou spouse.” Your mom commented. It was the dreaded marriage talk, your parents got married at a young age to secure their assets as a way to be set financially for life, and now your parents expect you to do the same. They didn’t really care about love in the relationship, it was only about partnership and favors, you hoped that if ever got to marry someone, it was because of love, regardless of money.

“Mother, dost thou not believe in mutual feelings?” You ask. “Mutual agreements are supposed to be in order dear, never feelings, thou needs to be presentable, and not fond of sloppiness. Thy image is everything, thou needs to be pure as heaven, kind and graceful, and thou will then have the perfect husband.” You rolled your eyes away from your mom, how is it that you have to be attractive to get a husband, but the marriage is not out of love at all, only lust, greed, and pride.

“Come hither my wife and daughter! We are all ready for thy departure.” Your father says. You finish up the last of your breakfast before cleaning your area, and leaving for the airport.

Scene ii

The Osaki Residence was quite different. They were filled with chaos, and humor. They lived life fully, and rarely conformed to society’s expectations. They had life long riches, but never acted as if they had it. Their life consisted of endless travel, fun and living life at full potential. In this residence, it consists of three family members as well, Mr and Mrs Osaki, and their son Shotaro.

“Shotaro, boys come forth, or we will miss thy flight!” A voice called. “Mom, we are ready, bags are together and all.” Shotaro responded. “We are fine, I thank thee, Mrs. Osaki.” Haechan said before bowing. “I’m sure we are all grateful for thee letting us come along on the trip to Italy.” Sungchan spoke. “Yeah, we are gonna have so much fun, partying, drinking, beautiful girls.” YangYang chimed in. “I know that all sounds fun, but have thou boys ever thought about settling down and finding a beautiful girl that thou would want to marry someday?” Mr. Osaki asked. The four boys all gave gagging faces. “Trust me boys, I was like thee at thou age, charming and could get many girls but remember, there’s nothing like being in love.” He said before kissing his wife’s cheek. “Now let’s go we don’t want to miss thy flight.”

Scene iii

The (L/n) family finally arrived in Italy. Almafi Coast was beautiful to say the least, and the villa that they purchased for the occasion was apart of the perfect scenery, quiet, serene, and tasteful.

“Oh! This exquisite, (Y/n), isn’t this lovely?” Your mother asked. “Yes, quite.” You spoke. You were still experiencing jet-lag, so you have answering as you went along. “(Y/n), come now, thou should go look at thou room.” Your father commented. You walked through the hallway and upstairs to get to your room at the villa, and you were astound at how beautiful the room was. It contained nude pink renaissance themed wall paper, a yellow canopy bed with gold bedding, and a large balcony that you could walk out to to see the coastline. You were honestly impressed with how well the room was put together. You definitely felt like your dad payed good money for this villa.

“(Y/n), how dost thou like thy room?” Your mom asked. “Very beautiful I thank thee, mom.” You replied. “Don’t forget, we mustn’t wait around, we have a party with thou father’s business partners and a few guests tonight to celebrate their new deals.” “Oh most certainly! I remember a few of father’s partners, Mr. Lee, Mr. Jung, Mr. Nakamoto, Mr. Huang, and Mr. Osaki.” After you mentioned that name, your mother’s reaction went from nice to brutal. “Do not speak of that scum that infiltrated our family do thou hear me!? He is not fit to be here! He has almost shunned our family’s honor, and I am glad that he will not be attending.” She exclaimed. You were awfully confused, your father and Mr. Osaki were really good business partners, you don’t know what happened, but due to the recent outburst, you thought it would be best to not bring it up again to your mother. She sighed before walking out of your room to calm down for a bit. You shrugged it off and began to get ready for the party.

Scene iv

After a long flight, the Osaki family and Haechan, YangYang, and Sungchan finally arrived. As they all were situated in their villa, the family and friends all caught up on the excitement that they all wanted for the trip.

“So, what is the one thing that thee would like to do?” Mrs. Osaki asked. “Well, there’s a pretty big coast, I do plan on going to thy dock one day and sail a little bit.” Mr. Osaki spoke. “For me, three words, girls, girls, and girls.” Haechan joked. “I definitely want to see the Sistine Chapel for sure, as well as some of Italy’s infrastructure and history.” Sungchan explained. “Are you kidding me, I came here for two things and two things only, parties and football.” YangYang smiled. The family continued to murmur on what they wanted to do until Mrs. Osaki questioned her son. “Shotaro, what about thee?” “I don’t know, I’ll go where thy wind takes me.” Shotaro shrugged. Everyone nodded. “I’m just glad we all get to spend time with each other, just my loving wife and son, his friends, and no one else that could ruin this vacation, besides I’m finally away from thy man who caused all this stress upon me.” Mr. Osaki said. “Are thou talking about Mr. (L/n) sir?” Haechan asked, but got glares from Mrs. Osaki and Shotaro causing him to look down. “Sorry.” He said. “No it’s alright, I guess I can explain what happened so thou boys could learn a life lesson from this.” Mr. Osaki spoke up. “Mr (L/n), and I were both working together on a co-partnership deal that we put a lot of money into. If we made this deal work, we were gonna make so much money that we didn’t know what to do with, luckily the plan was approved and we were all ready to go into action, but there was a flaw. In order for this plan to work we needed to leave home for a very long time, your mother just gave birth to thee Shotaro, and I didn’t want to leave her by herself so with rational thinking, I told Mr. (L/n) no, but that caused chaos. He was mad because I chose to stay with my family instead of going along with thy multi million dollar deal because I already have money, but I also have a family that loves me. He was very angry at me for backing out of thy deal because of money that he already has, and has a family so I asked, ‘what about thou family?’ He then replied ‘As long as I’m making money, they don’t have to worry about where I go.’ After that he came up with his own deal, and made even more money, he stopped talking to me after that. It made me realize that he wasn’t a friend, he was a cruel businessman who only worried about deals in life, and I’m pretty sure he’s teaching his wife and child thy same way, so boys let this be a lesson to not think about wealth and power over love, it shows how heartless thou are as a person.

“Wow.” The boys said in unison. “Yep, I don’t tell people this story, because it’s quite boring, I’ll do it for thee, because thou all are my rock.” Everyone smiled before looking at the time. “Oh! We have to get ready!” Shotaro said. “Where are thou boys going?” Mrs. Osaki asked. “There’s a beach party a miles along the coast. It said open invite, so we just decided to try it out.” Haechan replied. “Well okay, as long as there’s no trouble, then thou boys can go.” She replied. “Awesome.” YangYang said.

Scene v

The decor for the party looked nice, the food looked good, everyone was dressed in formal-casual clothes, and there were all kinds of guests, the business partners, their kids, younger mentors, and respectable people.

You walked up the stairs to your room to get something from your room when you overheard your father from the other side of the door of your parents room.

“I don’t care if they were accidentally written to attend this party, the Osaki’s are not invited! They are spineless saps who don’t care about there livelihood or reputation at all, they will just ruin this party, especially with that reckless son of theirs, he’s just like his father, they are not invited, and if anyone of the Osaki’s or their acquaintances try to attend this party, I command thee to use force at once!” Your father spoke to who you assumed was security. Your father sighed before you heard footsteps going towards the door causing you to walk downstairs quickly towards the party. You thought to yourself how are the Osaki’s that bad, not only was your mom upset, your father reiterated in the same tone, it was very confusing. As you walked around the villa, your mom stopped you in your tracks along with a gorgeous man with long hair.

“(Y/n), this is Nakamoto Yuta, Mr. Nakamoto’s son, he spoke very fondly of thee, so I brought him over to chat with thee, so thou two enjoy yourselves.” Your mother spoke making you side eye her. “Hi, I’m Yuta, it’s a pleasure to meet thee, (Y/n).” He said before shaking your hand and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss it. You have to admit, Yuta is quite handsome, long hair, soft yet seductive eyes, and a sharp jawline, you were intrigued. Maybe you could stay with him for a few minutes and get to know him.

Scene vi

On the other side of town there be another party, this one at the beach, and all kinds of fun, it nothing but young adults, sand, the sea, a bonfire, and fun. Haechan, YangYang, Sungchan, and Shotaro started having fun until they realized that almost half of the partygoers left due to the mildly cold waters, fire almost dying down, and open winds picking up.

“Damn, where’d all thy people go?” Haechan asked. “Probably indoors, it’s freezing.” Sungchan mentioned. “Yeah, and so is the water.” YangYang commented as he left the cold, dark ocean. “Thou guys wanna head back to thy villa?” Shotaro asked. “I guess, but I thought our main point of this vacation was to have fun? Going back to thy villa defeats that purpose.” Haechan shrugged. “What if instead of going back to our villa, we go to another?” YangYang suggests. “Elaborate.” Sungchan said. “I heard a few people say that thy guests of the Royal Renaissance villa is having a party tonight that started at 8:00, it’s 9:00 now, and I highly doubt that thy party would be over in an hour.” “What about security?” Shotaro mentions. “Please, with Sungchan’s legs, and YangYang’s and I’s sneakiness, we can easily get in there, I’m down.” Haechan spoke. The boys all agreed before pouring some water over the fire, threw on the shirts, and left the beach to head to the villa.

Scene vii

As the cab fare pulled up to the high class villa, the four boys were in awe, it was definitely high class due to the vintage yet modern architecture, pastel color palette, and array of organized flowers and lights along entry. The boys proceeded the villa with caution, taking in every detail and scoping out how they would get in.

“Okay, so what’s thy plan?” Sungchan asked. “I don’t know, but we need to figure it out to get in.” Shotaro replied. “Well, I hope we figure it out before that finds us.” Haechan said, referring to the tall and buff stone faced security. “I got it! Do you guys see that gate where the pool is? What if Haechan distracts thy guard in front of it away from the gate, we all climb thy gate, hide behind thy shack, and walk up thy stairs to thy party?” YangYang suggested. “Not a bad idea, but what about me, how will I get in after distracting him?” Haechan questioned. “I guess one of us will have to hide in that shed to let thee in. Sungchan and Shotaro are too tall to not be noticed so I guess it will be me. Just make sure you run faster than the security so he doesn’t see me open the gate. Is everyone down?” They all agreed to YangYang’s plan and kicked it into effect.

The plan was slightly conspicuous. The three boys hid in the bushes before Haechan began to insult the security guard making the boys chuckle. As Haechan took off running, the boys swiftly made their move. Considering that the gate could only be open by a key from security, and no key on the inside, they used Sungchan to leverage themselves up over the gate. With all the three inside, they knew they didn’t have much time before security came back.

As Sungchan and Shotaro moved upstairs towards the main door, YangYang hid in the small peach colored pool shed peeping out the window before seeing tuffs of brown hair flopping up and down quickly. He looked carefully to make sure security was nowhere near Haechan as he opened the shed and hid behind it before finally seeing Haechan near the gate. He moved to open the gate allowing him in as they could both tread heavy footsteps while running. The two boys ran at the speed of light, and hid under the stairs that led to the main door where the party was. Finally when the security got there, he looked around while catching his breath, and saw no sign of Haechan anywhere. Thinking he was gone, he got back to his job attending the gate.

The two boys tiptoed up the stairs as they saw the gold lighting inside. They opened the door quietly before ducking in. They assumed Shotaro and Sungchan were somewhere off browsing, but to their surprise, they were still waiting for their two friends and stunned at the decor of the party. Arranged table for Hors d’oeuvres, another table that set out wine glasses and champagne, and another one that had tons of gift bags for the guest. As they looked at the guests, they noticed their attire, laid back, but nice and formal wear, and then looked at themselves in their beach attire, getting a few looks from some of the guests, but to them, they didn’t care, a party was a party. “Guys, we made it.” Shotaro spoke.

Scene viii

As the night continued, the guests partied, some slightly tipsy as they stumbled upon their words. Laughter and chatter filled the villa well, many were happy, and were glad to be there, except (Y/n) who didn’t feel like talking to the handsome guy that irritated her.

“So my parents bought me a helicopter that I rode around in, it was worth $500,000, but I was with my friends, we were all wearing shiny Rolex watches, and my friend lost his off thy helicopter because it was too loose! Luckily my dad bought him another one, it was worth $60,000.” Yuta explained. “Uh huh.” You say nonchalantly. “Maybe, I could buy you one too, that is if you stay with me, maybe a pretty pink one with diamonds, hmm?” Yuta asked. “Yeah, that be great.” You shrugged. At this point, you were tired of Yuta, it was bad enough that you had to deal with your mom trying to match you up with him, but it was worse when all he would talk about was how rich him and his family was. “Hey, Yuta, do you mind if you could get me something to drink from thy table please?” “No problem.” He answered. He slowly walked towards the table, a slight arrogance to his walk. It was the perfect time to make an escape.

You hurriedly walked away from the people at the party, scurrying to the stairs trying to get away from anybody named your mom, your dad, or Yuta. As you walked fast you ran into somebody that was definitely taller and more broad than you. Hoping it wasn’t Yuta, you swore under your breath not wanting to see him. “Are thou okay?” A voice asked. Your ears perked up hearing a sweet voice that didn’t belong to Yuta, as you slowly looked up, you were struck with the most beautiful person you’ve ever met in your life.

Scene ix

“Shotaro, can we go somewhere else, this party is no fun, and thy alcohol and food are bleh.” Haechan whined. “Yeah, I agree with Haechan, everything here is so snotty and bratty, I tried talking a cute girl, and all she wanted to know was how much is my family’s worth.” YangYang replied. “If we find another place we could probably go to a club near here.” Sungchan spoke. “Looked it up, clubs aren’t near here, we have to travel to the city for clubs, we’re on an island coast remember?” Shotaro said. “Fuck.” Haechan swore, getting a few stares from random guests. “Okay well look, if thou guys want to leave that’s fine, but if we leave, we’ll have to back to the villa.” Shotaro mentioned. “That’s fine, at least the chefs could whip up some awesome Italian pizza for me.” Haechan joked. “You’re full of it Haechan.” Shotaro said as he walked into you. “Are thou okay?” He asked as he held you in his arms to keep you from falling. He took in your visible features like your height, hair, figure, and white dress. You finally looked up, and he thought he saw an angel, you were beautiful to him, had a very soft look in your eye, one that showed sweetness and caring personality, something that he has never seen in his life. The boys looked at his friend and the girl, and questioned the scene, both frozen, looking into each other’s eyes, as they held onto each other not letting go. Haechan, YangYang, and Sungchan all looked at each other and thought to themselves, did their friend find someone that infatuates him?

Act II

Scene i

Some people believed that there was a time and place for everything, others believe fate, in this case Shotaro and (Y/n) realized that their fate may be the best thing that has happened to them at this party, but what they don’t know is that there may be a catch to this lovely fate.

“Are thou okay?” Shotaro asked. “Yes I’m fine.” You replied still holding onto his grasp. You stood up a little showing your true height and form, even then you were still shorter that him by a few inches, but could finally see everything in view. His gorgeous smile, bright brown eyes, soft skin, You stared deep into his eyes, looking into the windows showed that he was kind, someone you could trust, you never saw that before, not even in your parents. “What is thou name?” He asked. “(Y/n), and thee?” “Shotaro.” You smiled. You felt warmth cascade through your body, you both were still into each other’s grasps, not wanting to let go, you felt safe, and secure, you didn’t know that a stranger could make you feel this way at all.

“We’re still linked.” Shotaro chuckled. “Well, it’s hard to remove yourself from someone who has such a hold on thee.” You smiled. “If it makes thou feel any better… I don’t want to let go of thee.” He whispered. “I don’t either.” Shotaro felt someone tap his shoulder, and sighed. He was annoyed at how someone could ruin such a beautiful moment. As he turned around, there stood his best friends ready to depart from the slow party. “Thou guys go ahead, I think I’m gonna stay here for awhile.” Shotaro spoke. “Are thou sure?” Sungchan asked. He looked back at you and smiled. “Yeah thou guys go, I’ll be fine.” He replied. They all smiled before patting his back and leaving from the exit.

“So what brings thee here to this party?” You ask. “Nothing but sheer boredom, I was ready to leave, but I found someone to make me stay.” He replies, making you smile. “I appreciate the gratitude, I guess I’ve become the life of the party?” You joke. “You definitely have.” He smiles. “How about thee? Is this a party thou wanted to come to tonight?” “Actually no, this is my parents party, they are hosting it.” You sighed and looked down. “You don’t seem happy.” He grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger lifting it up to keep your eyes focused on him. “Why are thou upset?” He asked with sincerity in his voice. “I’m not into this whole putting up a front for guests type of thing, I want to be my own self, not someone who is thy perfect daughter. Thou are the first person I didn’t have to lie to tonight.” You said. “If this is thee true self, I wouldn’t want thee to be any other way.” He commented. You both looked into each other’s eyes, his holding a truth to every word about you being your true self. Within seconds, your lips connected. The soft skin of his lips gave you tingles, never leaving the spot you were in, you both melted into it, you felt like your feet lifted off of the ground, and were transcending towards heaven. You loved every moment. As you both pulled away, you stared into each other’s eyes, smiling wide. “Sorry for stealing such a sweet kiss.” He spoke. “Why doth thou have to be sorry, I’m not upset, my lips feel happy to graze thee so nicely.

Not long after, your name was called, and it didn’t sound pleasant. Worried you hurried up to the stairs, with Shotaro behind you, hands intertwined. “We must hurry. I think my parents are calling me.” You said worriedly. As you both huddled towards the stairs, you saw your mother in trying to look for you with Yuta in her peripheral. You ran up the stairs with Shotaro and instantly made it to your bedroom, shutting the door and locking it afterwards.

“That was close.” You huffed. Shotaro looked around your room looking at the beautiful decor. “Nice room.” He commented. “Thank thee, thou can sit if thou want.” You replied, signaling him to the bed. “Can I ask why we were running away from thou parents?” You sighed. “It’s because of a lot, my parents hosted this party, I didn’t want to be here, and now my mom found this nice, but incredibly arrogant guy for me to talk to, but I’m not into him at all.” “Arrogant? He sounds horrible already.” Shotaro comments. “Yeah he is, they only want me to date someone who has a great status to keep up with the family name. They said that marriage is only an agreement, and should be used as such.” “That’s nothing like my parents, they fell in love when they first met.” “Well, thou parents sound lovely. I think my parents only want me to succeed at wealth and family and it’s just that I’m tired of trying to be… perfect.” “…Perfect?” You and Shotaro said in sync. You stare into his eyes lovingly, before you both leaned in and kissed again. The same feeling you had downstairs coming back to you, this time with more courage and understanding. You didn’t know what to call this feeling, but from the small comment from Shotaro about his parents, you felt like it was nothing other than love. You two were so enamored by each other so infatuated, the fact that you two couldn’t get out of each other’s grasps downstairs, and now you two have been kissing for as long as you could count, it all made sense to you.

Just then, there was a knock on your door that startled you and Shotaro. You both pulled away, you groaning in annoyance, but your emotions changed when a tone in voice replaced the knocks. “(Y/n), open this door, thou mother and I need to talk with thee it’s urgent.” Your father spoke. You began to panic, you knew your father didn’t want you to have a boy in your room, even on vacation. “That’s my father he can’t know thou are here, thou has to leave!” You whispered at Shotaro. “But what about thee? I want thee with me?” He asked. “Come by tomorrow, and I’ll see thee then. There’s a stairway under my room that is an emergency exit, thou can go through there from the balcony.” You kissed him one last time hands tucked in his hair. “Goodnight, I’ll see thee again.” You said. “Thou as well, be safe, goodnight.” He says before leaving you see him climb down safely before closing the balcony doors a little to allow some air, and finally opening the door to your room.

“Hi mother, father, what brings thee here?” You ask. “(Y/n), was there any boys here who were in swim attire that attended this party?” Your father asked. “Not that I’ve seen, is something wrong?” You asked, playing it coy. “Well one, they weren’t on the list of guests, and two, one of them was the only son of our enemies thy Osaki’s. His name is Osaki Shotaro.”

Scene ii

With night in place, everyone was happy, all except (Y/n) who now found out that her lover whom she loved relentlessly, was now the son of her parents enemies.

In that moment, your heart sank, Shotaro, an enemy, you hated to think that. “(Y/n)?” Your mother asked calmly. “N-no, I haven’t seen anyone of thy sorts.” You said sadly. “Well, just in case, we’ve upped security around just so no one with thy surname ‘Osaki’ Can step foot in this villa.” Your father replied. Your mother moved closer to you grabbing your hands as your dad stared at you as well. “Sweetheart, I know thou may not know much about thy Osaki incident, but just know that they are not good people to be around, they are untrustworthy, shallow, leeches, and one decision that Mr. Osaki made years ago with thou father, almost cost us our entire source of income and could’ve tarnished our names, we have swore to this day that no one with thy name Osaki shall cross our paths and we won’t let them.” Your mom said. “And we advise thee to do the same.” Your father said, staring at you. “Is that clear?” You nodded your head, making your parents smile. “Well good, now come along, we’ve got an hour left of the party, and Yuta would like to get to know thee more.” Your mom said dragging you out of your room and downstairs.

You looked back at the balcony thinking about Shotaro and his escape, upset that your lover is now thought of as an enemy, but one thing you didn’t know was that he was still on the steps, frozen after hearing every word your parents said about him and his family, and is also in the same sudden realization that hit you moments ago that you are a (L/n), his family’s worst enemy.

Scene iii

As dawn awakens, sunlight shines through the windows, by now, the Osaki family and friends have awaken, while the (L/n)’s are still in slumber. Shotaro smiles to himself, now happy to know he’s in love regardless of the baggage that his and her family holds to each other.

“So, let me get this straight, thou fell in love with a girl who is thou enemy!?” Haechan asks Shotaro while laughing. “Dost thou knoweth when to hold his jest laugh? She was beautiful, more than thy heavens that sit above earth. Her smile brighter than thy sun, and her sweet voice could not even compare to calming birds.” Shotaro speaks, staring in a distance. “How are’t thou so radiant in a lustrous love, that he hath forgotten thy disdain of thy families?” Sungchan asked. “Why thou question my love, thus this love can not grow without pandering to thy heart, less’t be thy heart that be so drugged in her.” “Why must we gossip? If thou love her, then thou shall seek her.” YangYang spoke agreeing with Shotaro. “I, but alas, the savagery that keeps us disheartened, also keeps us discontent.” Shotaro replied. “Her father who is thy conflict has released obsequious men who come to seek me if thy enter thy chambers. I ask of my three companions, dost thou not want me to be happy, shall I stay in isolation and remain frugal? I seek of my mates to help me through my journey, and keep me satisfied day by day forever as I live.” Shotaro pleads. As the three boys elaborate with thoughts, they all agree to Shotaro’s cries for help. Within minutes, Shotaro will see to his one true love as soon as possible.

Scene iv

Throughout the day, (Y/n) is infatuated by her lover Shotaro. As sunset falls, she dreams peacefully about the boy who was kept in her room hoping to see her again, sadly, news awaits her that she doesn’t want to hear.

“(Y/n), I come with grave news for thee!” Your mother exclaimed. “And what news shall thou bestow upon me?” You ask. “Yuta, has fallen in love with thee, and would respectfully take her hand in marriage!” You looked at her with shameful eyes, how could he want to marry you after a failed conversation? “Why must thou present this news to me now? Was said man so lustrous, he be willing to give vows so easily after a talk so lackluster?” You ask. “Oh stop being dramatic! Can’t thou see how infatuated he is of thee? If he not, then why is thy man so generous with words he cannot take back?” She replied. “But why now? Why cans’t thou wait for fate to cross our paths?” You ask. “Because fate is flawed, sometimes thou works fate in one’s favor.” “But what dost Yuta possess that no other man cans’t satisfy?” You question. “Wealth and a status that won’t besmirch thy name. Why would thee want someone worthless, when thou could have good courtship with a satisfying label? Vowing to thee would be monumental to thy family name, and help with accusations thy family has been wrongly shunned for.”You looked down, you hated to have to make a choice between your family and your lover, it was hard, but it seemed like your mother already gave you your option. “Thy ceremony is in a few weeks. That gives thee time to know Yuta in a more vulnerable state.” She says then exits. You sigh before laying back in bed, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Scene v

With forced marriage in one hand and love in the other, (Y/n) is torn. Luckily, with the help of his three friends, Shotaro might make her night feel much more secure.

“What scuffle is thy friend about to get us into now?” Haechan asked. “With maximum protection, thy can’t help thy self to (Y/n)’s chambers.” Shotaro explains. “Well, what shall dost thou need for help?” Sungchan asked. “With one dauntless armed guard near the gate, thou needs to throw something unbeknownst to him to excel on, with swiftness, thou noiselessly move past thy gate and into her chambers.” Shotaro explains.

As the three friends nod in agreement, they follow with the plan. YangYang and Shotaro promiscuously throw two rocks in a different direction making the near guards run towards the sound. They all erupt from the bushes before Sungchan lifts his friend up and over the gate to meet his fair maiden. Shotaro thanks his friends before ushering towards the balcony to climb, as the other three boys quietly walk back to their villa. With Shotaro in a great state, he climbs up until he finally meets the balcony door of his lover’s room.

Scene vi

Unknown to her, Shotaro pays (Y/n) a visit like he said he would, but is sad to hear the news from his lover that fills her heart with dread.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” Shotaro whispers from the balcony before knocking. Hurriedly, she rushed to the door to see Shotaro, and opened the door finally seeing his brown orbs staring at her with all the love he had. He entered her room before kissing her lips with so much passion, not wanting to break away from her, but she had to in order for her to bare bad news.

“I missed thee so much.” He whispered. “Me too, but I sadly have horrid news.” You said. You could sense the worry in his body as you looked at him. You let in a huff before telling him. “My parents have arranged a marriage upon me.” Anger filled Shotaro’s body. “To whom will thou be exchanging vows with!?” He asked. “Y-Yuta.” You replied. With heavy hands, Shotaro pounded the desk behind you, rage in his eyes. You wanted to calm him down, but you were very worried about what could happen if you did.

“I have no intention to be courted by him. He is not who is here right now, only thee, I love thee.” You spoke up. Shotaro calmed down looking at you. “Thou doth not wish to be courted by him?” He asked. “No, only thee, I would gladly take thou courtship from thee. I love thee.” You repeat. He came up to you and kissed you passionately. “Then by night…and stars…take thee…and make…thee satisfied…until morn.” Shotaro said between kisses. You nodded your head before replying. “I take thee.” You whispered as he moved you to the soft and comfortable bed.

“Don’t leave…Don’t leave…Don’t leave.” He whispered as his kisses trailed down to your neck. “I’m here Shotaro, I’m here.” You moaned.

Shotaro kissed your neck softly making sure to be gentle with you, not wanting to mess this up for you. He kicked off his shoes before completely moving up onto the bed above your sprawled out body. He looked up at your state, in nothing but a silk robe almost ready for bed before he showed up. You smiled up at him wanting him to continue, his eyes fixated on your silk covered body long enough. “Please Shotaro, please.” You whined. He licked his lips, lust now clouding his thoughts more than ever. He leaned back down to place more kisses against your neck before finally giving in and marking up your soft skin. The suction was a foreign feeling, it was slightly painful, but arousing. You whined in response, making Shotaro smile against your skin, he moved away from the purple mark making sure to kiss it before moving to another part of your neck to deliver another mark near the first one and kissed it as well, he continued this action two more times before removing your robe of your shoulder to expose your collarbones to repeat the same action.

He kissed and marked them up making you sigh into his touch. Loving the way your collarbones looked covered in his marks, he pushed the right side of your robe off your shoulder to expose your right breast. He gasped at your breast, not even thinking that you two would get this far. He stared at round mound, while a small part of your nipple on your left breast peeked out of the remaining piece of the robe left on your chest. Obligated, he removed the left side as well, now your full chest on display for him. He cupped your breasts in his hand before leaning down to kiss and suck at the supple skin on your right breast leaving marks on it, while repeating the same moves to the left. His thumbs grazed over your nipples making you shudder. Finally, he took your nipple into his mouth making you whine.

He sucked the sensitive nipple eagerly, tongue rolling over the bud and flicking it up and down as you gripped his hair, playfully running your fingers through the brown locks. He moved to the other nipple to do the same actions. “Shotaro.” You moaned. You couldn’t bear it, your arousal got the best of you, you needed some sort of friction for your almost practically soaked heat. “Please go f-further.” He gave you a nod before removing his shirt showing his toned body, not making your arousal any better.

He untied the loose belt on the robe as you sat up to help him. You grabbed the robe when it was completely open, and moved it out of your way. Shotaro happy to finally have your body on full display. “So beautiful.” He groaned, his bulge now strained in his pants as he caught a glance of your soaked pussy.

He bent down to kiss the top of your thighs, not wanting to waste any time pleasing you. He kissed towards the inside of your thighs, moving your legs apart to get more access. He was now face to face with your pussy, he looked up at you to make sure it was okay. “Is this good?” He asked. “Yes, please, I need something there.” You replied. With no hesitation, Shotaro wrapped his supple lips around your clit. You threw your head back, eyes closed with pleasure going through your body. He sucked on your sensitive clit, getting you used to the feeling. Your body jolted at the immense sensation that coursed between your legs.

Continuing his movements, Shotaro trailed his tongue to your sopping entrance, licking around it teasing you before using his tongue to lick aggressively at your slit. You felt so violated, how could a tongue have so much control over you? You craved it more, your carnal instincts coming out when he pushed his tongue into your gaping hole. “Ahh, Shotaro!” You moaned. You moved your hand to his hair, while the other one laid on the sheets, bunching up the material. He pushed his tongue in and out of you, preparing you for what was about to come later on, you loved how gentle he was with you, but also liked his initiative to please you.

Shotaro removed his tongue from your entrance and moved up to suck your clit, his finger replacing his tongue from your entrance. “That feels good.” You moaned. You could feel the soft smile spread across his face in between your legs, loving the praise you gave him. He sucked harshly at your clit, trying to build up your release, he knew you were close by the way your toes curled, and your body tensing up, you didn’t even realize you’ve been grinding against his face for the past minute. “Shotaro, close!” You whined. With a groan from his voice, he was ready for your release. With the curl of his digit, and his mouth sucking your bundle of nerves, he used his tongue to claim what was his, he spelled the seven letters into your clit that sent you over the edge. ‘S,H,O,T,A,R,O’ you were his. You convulsed around his finger, his lips still doing a number on you as pleasure took over your entire body. Pants and gasps left your mouth with small whines made you sigh. Shotaro let out a smile, seeing your body go through that much pleasure. Your body sent little shockwaves as you tried to calm down, he removed his finger and mouth that were now covered in both your arousal and release. With the satisfied look on Shotaro’s face, you knew you did well.

“So beautiful.” He comments making you giggle. Not wanting to waste another minute, Shotaro unbuttons his pants to remove them, releasing some of the tension on his strained hard on. You looked at the boy who stood tall above you, nearly naked, only a piece of thin underwear stood in the way. Slowly, he removed his underwear, his length now standing at full attention, his tip leaking precum from how long it’s been confined for.

Your breath hitched as your pussy clenched around nothing staring at his impressive length. He noticed your staring before he moved back up to the bed, and kissed you again while pumping his length in his hand. He looked at you making sure you were ready as he lined himself up with your entrance. You issued him a nod before he rubbed your slit with his tip before entering in slowly.

You gave a choked sound, the pain a little overwhelming. He took in your expression that showed pain, halting his movements into you. “Does it hurt?” He asked. “A little.” You sighed. He held your waist firmly before kissing you to help take away from the pain, after every few seconds, his length inches inside of you. Finally sheathed in you, the pain subsides. “Shotaro…move.”

Shotaro began to move in and out of you slowly, moans soon taking over yours and his throats. The feeling was amazing to you, you felt so secure, and so full, you didn’t think you could feel this way. Each thrust he gave was slow and meaningful, they were also precise enough to hit you at a good angle. Your hands gripped his shoulders, for leverage, holding onto him as his thrusts went harder. Giving more pleasure between the two of you.

Shotaro’s hard thrusts we’re so good that he was able to hit a spot in you that you didn’t even know you had. “Shotaro, there!” You moaned out. Shotaro moved down to your neck hiding in it as he continued his harsh thrusts, moaning into your neck as you clenched around him. “So good (Y/n).” He moaned. You moved your legs to wrap around his torso, feeling a bundle of nerves move from your stomach to your pussy, you were close again, and Shotaro was too. His dick twitched inside of you as his thrusts became sloppy. Only moans could be heard in the room as you both chased your orgasm. Shotaro removed his hand from your waist to vigorously rub at your clit throwing you off the edge. “Let go angel.” He groaned. You released around him. A cry of his name was all that you could utter in the moment. Your pussy clenching hard on his dick making him satisfied before releasing as well. Thick spurts of cum filled you up as you both rode out your highs together giving each other one final kiss as you both began to calm down. Still fully sheathed inside of you, Shotaro flips you two over, as you now lay on top of him. With his hands wrapped around your waist, Shotaro kisses your temple before you both fall into a deep sleep.

Act III

Scene i

As the two lovers awake from their slumber, they are in peace. Tranquil sounds fill the room as they recall last nights’ endeavors.

“Good morn.” You giggle. Shotaro kisses your head and nose before responding. “Good morn, love.” You and Shotaro both cuddle each other, still tight in each other’s embraces as you and your bodies were still tangled within each other from last night.

“We’re still intertwined.” You say, your warm heat still enclosed on Shotaro’s cock. “Yes, we are, doth my love wish to remove herself?” “It depends on if thou can’t take it anymore.” You reply. “Oh, I can handle it, thou feels so warm.” He comments. “But Shotaro, thou has to leave before my mother and father find out.” You said. “Mm, give me a minute, never a morn person.” You giggle at his reply. Even though it’s only been two days, you never realized how easy it is to love a person so much, it felt amazing.

“Come on, let us take a shower to clean off thy sins of last night.” You say removing yourself from his grip and standing up completely bare. Shotaro puts his arm behind his head, and smirks. “I’d rather watch the view, thou looks gorgeous.” You roll your eyes before walking off. “If thou wants to see this, thou should get up and come to the shower.” In a flash, he scurries to the bathroom door as you turn on the shower. You both clean yourselves off, scrubbing each other’s bodies, sharing kisses in between as you hurry to get out of the shower. After a few minutes, you and Shotaro both walk out, towels covering each other’s frames, hair wet, with the same smiles plastered on each other’s faces.

“I needed that.” Shotaro commented. “Me too, now we can get dressed, and find a way to hangout today.” You reply. “I know a way.” Shotaro smirks. He began to kiss your neck, licking at the love marks he left on you last night. “Mm, Taro.” You whimpered. He couldn’t help himself, you looked good coming out of the shower with nothing but a towel on. He removed your towel and you removed his, as you were both about to take it to the bed, but you felt your heart pretty much drop at the sound of a door opening.

“(Y/n) dear, it’s time for, Ahhh!” Your mother shrieked, dropping the glass of juice on the floor. You and Shotaro completely bare, sitting on the edge of the bed was the image your mother had to endure. Frozen, you didn’t know what to think, but Shotaro did, throw on his clothes and go, he hurriedly threw on his pants as your mom stood there anger in her face. As she charged towards you, you sprung for the covers, shielding your body from the open.

“Thou wretched boy how dare thou approach our sanctum!?” Your mother exclaimed as she moved to you. Shotaro was trying to find his shirt from the floor to hurry and leave, but the situation was worse when someone who you did not want to see showed up in your peripheral. “I heard screaming what has happened, OUT!!!” Your father exclaimed, not even giving a second to check out the entire situation. Your father began to charge at Shotaro full speed, luckily Shotaro managed to quickly climb down from the balcony, his chest pounding with adrenaline.

“Don’t you dare come back, if thou do, thou will face thy fury of thee, and surely view thy fiery depths of hell for thy sin put upon thy fruit of my loins!” Your father yelled towards Shotaro. As your dad turned around, you saw how angered he was. His face flustered, veins visible with his temple, eyes seething with rage. You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to. He finally saw the glimpse of the scene in your bedroom, messy sheets, your body only covered by the sheets that lay on top of your bed, a few fixtures from the room out of place, and the discarded clothes on the floor, especially Shotaro’s shirt and underwear finally made him put two and two together, you slept with each other, now even madder than before, he wasn’t going to let bygones be bygones, he needed to get some aggression out, and the only for that to happen was to visit the people who fueled that aggression.

“As I swear by thy world today, if I don’t get my hands on that boy who take away my daughter’s purity, rage that is built up in me shall be as hot as thy wicked in hell.” He seethes before walking out.

Scene ii

Tension has arose within the (L/n) family, now with the unforseen circumstances, their entire vacation now feels like a nightmare, especially for Mr. (L/n).

In a flash, Shotaro has made it home with no questions from his family that is until they overhear a light comment from Haechan that sparks suspicions.

“Oh look who’ comes about, thy man of thy hour, how did sulking in your own love and sin feel?” In that moment, Shotaro wanted to attack Haechan quickly, but was stopped by his parents. “Love and sin? What is thy boy mumbling about?” Mrs. Osaki asked. “Isn’t it obvious honey? Our son has found love, I’m proud.” Mr. Osaki replied. “Well who’s thy beautiful girl that you spark interest with, she must be intriguing.” Mrs. Osaki said. “Quite.” Shotaro commented. “Well don’t purse thy lips together, who doth she be?” Mr. Osaki asked. Haechan, YangYang, and Sungchan all looked at Shotaro with wide eyes, waiting for his answer. “Well, she’s, her name is…” Just then three loud bangs erupted from the door, the Osaki’s and the boys confused as to what the commotion was about. As they looked around noting that they heard the same thing, the banging happened again this time louder, not wanting to anticipate any longer, Mr. Osaki went to the door before opening it, and much to his dismay, was shocked to see a person he wasn’t ready to see.

Scene iii

There stood an angry Mr. (L/n) eyes scanning Mr. Osaki. Both had despised each other deeply, and to even see each other face to face was very surprising to say the least.

“Doth thou son not knoweth of the rules of fondling with my family!?” Mr. (L/n) asked. “What are thou uttering now?” Mr. Osaki replied. “I am talking about thy sins thou son has placed upon my daughter!” Everyone in the Osaki villa looked back at Shotaro anger or shock upon their faces. “Why would thou come up with a preposterous accusation of that nature!?” Mr. Osaki questioned. “Why!? Because thou son has been seen by my and my wife’s eyes for thy matter! They have been bare together, and have laid up through the sins of lust!” “Not lust, love, it is love that binds our young hearts together.” Shotaro speaks up. “Love!? What do thou know about love!? How could my daughter even love such scum that walk!? You’re ridiculous, you’re just as incompetent as your father!” “How dare thou speak to my son! Thou has no right to speak of thy relations that spill from thou mouth, thou is a pretentious hob knob that cares about nothing in thy world but thou own’s personal gain, do not blame my son for this mess, when thou daughter could be a glorified rich earned whore!”

With that there issued a punch to Mr. Osaki’s nose, the rage and fury finally drove Mr. (L/n) to his breaking point. Mr. Osaki stumbled back, the boys and Mrs. Osaki frozen at the scene. Mr. Osaki went and lunged at Mr. (L/n), punching him across his jaw. Eventually the fight continued, both men throwing punches left and right at each other, blood and bruises gathering on their faces. Mr. (L/n) took one hit to Mr. Osaki making him fall to the ground. “I always knew thou was a weakling, couldn’t even say no to others, and now look at thee, scattered across his own floor.” Mr. (L/n) scoffed. Suddenly, Mr. Osaki stood back up and gave Mr. (L/n) a really hard punch giving him a bloody nose. “I may be a weakling, but at least I don’t put up a facade of money and status to hide mine.” Mr. (L/n) then attacked Mr. Osaki by pushing him down, now punching him multiple times at once, his knuckles were covered with blood, while Mr. Osaki grunted from the pain. The boys and Mrs. Osaki pulled Mr. (L/n) off of his body, holding him steady as Mrs. Osaki went to check on her injured husband. Sadly, the strength of the four boys was too weak to hold Mr. (L/n) and with that he punched Shotaro across his jaw. Shotaro covered his mouth making sure there was no teeth or blood involved. “Stay away from my daughter.” He threatened. Mrs. Osaki saw enough and was ready to combust, this man has interrupted their vacation and has now beat up her husband and punched her son, she was pissed. “Get out! Thou shall be banned from our place immediately, go go!” She yelled before following him and closing the door after his way out.

Scene iv

As the fight and eruptions calm down, the Osaki household has some issues to resolve. One being of how to resolve the complications that came from Mr. (L/n).

“Thou are not to speak of this matter understand!? All four of thee are to go upstairs, thou three help Shotaro, and Shotaro, thou are not to interact with that tramp ever again! Do thou understand!?” Mrs. Osaki exclaimed. The boys nodded quickly before following orders.

“That was some blow thou took!” YangYang spoke. “Can we not talk about that right now, my father was almost murdered by a psycho!” “What is thou about to do?” Sungchan asked. “Nothing. We are still here for almost two weeks, I can make up with (Y/n) before we leave, I love her, and I won’t let that crazed man stand between us. “Thou is brave.” Haechan comments.

Just then, Mr. and Mrs. Osaki barge into Shotaro’s room. “I-, I just- WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!? Did thou not listen to my orders when I say the (L/n)’s are bad people!?” Mr. Osaki yelled. “I’m sorry, but thou shouldn’t be mad about love, thou said it was a wonderful thing.” Shotaro replied. “Well maybe thou loves the wrong person, this time.” Mrs. Osaki said starkly. “Well at this point it doesn’t matter anymore because we are leaving right now! Pack your bags!” Mr. Osaki commanded. “W-why?” Haechan asked. “Why!? Because a foul creature has evaded my vacation home and has shunned me and my family, that’s why. Shotaro, thou will never speak to her again, and that’s final, if so, then thou should drop the name of Osaki till thou’s last days.”

At that moment, Shotaro’s heart sank how is he supposed to leave without saying goodbye, he wouldn’t do it. “No, why should I leave just because thou two hate each other!? I’d rather die a thousand deaths before leaving my one true love!” “Shotaro thou are leaving with us and that is final!” Mrs. Osaki said, putting Shotaro back in his place. He didn’t say another word, and began to pack, his friends showing worry in their eyes as Shotaro aggressively packed his bags, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I’ll miss her. I love her.” He mumbled.

Scene v

As the afternoon came along, you sat and waited for everything to settle down, not even thinking about your parents, only Shotaro and when he would come back.

You looked out your balcony. Hopefully Shotaro will come back, you had to see him again. The anticipation was driving you crazy. Everything here was very rough when your father walked out for a few hours. Your mother scolded you, explaining how wrong it was to sleep with someone they despised as well as sleeping with someone while you were engaged. She even tried to scrub the love bites that Shotaro left on you last night, it only made your skin dry and irritated with how hard she was scrubbing.

Suddenly, the door opened, hoping it was Shotaro, it was your parents, you looked at your father, his face was covered in scratches, bruises, and dried blood making you gasp. He noticed your worried expression before answering.

“It was Osaki, he did this, I confronted him about his son, and he just attacked me, I tried to fend for myself, but I was useless. He obviously hates us because of our previous issues, but now it’s worse since thou have sinned with that boy, therefore thou is forbidden to see him.” Your father spoke. “What, no thou can’t do that, I love him!” You exclaim. “Well, then I guess it won’t be hard for thee to love Yuta when thy marriage complete. It happens in three weeks, a week from when we go back home.” Your mother explained. “No, I don’t want to be married to anyone other than Shotaro!” You yell, tears welling in your eyes. “(Y/n), this marriage is binding and that is final! And if I so hear one word about that Osaki kid coming anywhere near thee again, then so help me I will make it be his last.” Your father commented. “And just so thou doth not get any ideas… she will have these doors locked shut for her well being.” Your dad said before locking the balcony doors and walking out with your mother before shutting the door and locking it as well. “No! Thou can’t do this, let me see him please!” You sob behind the door. “Goodnight my daughter.” Your parents both said in sync. You silently sob into your pillow, wanting to see Shotaro again.

Shotaro Epilogue

The Osaki’s and the boys boarded the plain swiftly, all upset that their trip had to end over petty drama. The only ones sympathetic about the situation was Haechan, YangYang, and Sungchan who have never seen their best friend so crushed before, they knew that he obviously loved you and couldn’t let go, but he had to. All the stuff that he did was for you, and he’d be willing to do it all again if it meant to see you. He clutched his heart the entire time, completely heartbroken, eyes bloodshot from how much he cried about missing you. His only regret was never kissing you goodbye. But he has also learned a pretty good life lesson, love at first sight is real, but don’t be a fool enough to fall for it. As the plane began to take off he shed one final tear before the plane left the ground. “Goodbye my love.” He whispered quietly.

(Y/n) Epilogue

You had come to find out that the Osaki’s left the night of your father’s fight with Mr. Osaki, you were crushed, how could he leave? How could Shotaro leave. What was worse was that you found out one week after they left, depressed about your lover, you were crushed. He was the one you wanted to marry, the one you wanted to start a family with, live with him together forever. Now, you sit at home getting ready for the wedding reception for today, but you were very nauseous. Throwing up left and right since last night, once you peed on the small blue stick, it made sense, no period, the vomiting, and mood swings, you were pregnant, so now, you are getting married to the wrong man, you’re pregnant, and now, your lover and father of your child has departed from you, what a way to end all that you and Shotaro have stayed together for. “(Y/n) darling, are you ready?” Your mother asked. “No, but if it makes everyone else happy, then sure.” Everyone gets happiness but you and Shotaro, the boy who you will always love.

[alby-rei]

What Goes Up, Must Come Down (IkeVamp)

a/n:  In which MC continues her reign of mildly infuriating terror upon the Greatest Men in History. No one is safe. A continuation of “Piano Heist” and “Sorry, Not Sorry”.  Happy reading <3

[Main Characters]: MC, Mozart, Dazai (with minor appearances of everyone else)

[Series]: MC Pranks the Ikeboys

[Genre]: Comedy, slight (?) crack

~*~

On her way to the last task of the day, MC passed by Mozart’s piano room, where she could hear him experimenting with different melodies. She stopped to enjoy the music, leaning closer to the door with each second. She closed her eyes, and her mind wandered to the time when her fingers danced across those keys freely. She leaned forward against the door, except her head did not land on a door. It landed on something much... softer and fleshier.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

MC instantly recoiled her head back, meeting Mozart’s glare.  

“Nothing! I was just on my way to clean the—”

“I never did punish you for your little theft, did I?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Uhhh… what theft?” She feigned ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Mozart scowled.

He narrowed his eyes down on her, elevating his intimidation threefold. If looks could kill, she’d have lasers shooting through her skull right now.

“Ok, Ok, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I just wanted to play on the piano once!”

“That’s no excuse for damaging my prized piano.”

MC closed her eyes, shielding herself with defensive hands.

“The scratch was taken care of, wasn’t it?! No harm, no foul…?”

She lowered her hands slightly and peeked one eye at him. He continued to glare at her for another minute. Then he sighed tiredly and stepped away, allowing her some breathing room. He turned to face his neglected piano inside the room.

“I heard you playing in Arthur’s room. At the time, I couldn’t confirm if it really was you or not.”

“And… what did you think?” She treaded carefully into this conversation.

His murderous intent had somehow subdued. Silence settled between them while his eyes seemed to stare off beyond the piano.

Suddenly, he turned back to her with a huff, fixing his icy lavender gaze on her once more.

“Surely nothing that could compare to my music,” he scoffed.

He was about to turn away and shut the door behind him, but MC called out to him.

“Wait! Herr Mozart!”

She grabbed him by the shoulder, to which he clutched and twisted her arm off of him.

“Don’t touch me,” he seethed. She nursed her assaulted wrist and took a deep breath.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about what I did. To be honest, I’ve always loved the piano, and so when I saw yours, I couldn’t help it.”

“You… couldn’t help dragging it across the hallway and wasting all of our time?”

“…That was more of a heat-of-the-moment kind of plan,” she laughed sheepishly.

She took a deep breath and started again, “If I may be so bold, can I… ask you to teach me to play the piano... the way you do?”

The hallway fell silent again. A silence so heavy, it felt like it lasted an eternity.

“Can you sight read?”

“Yes.”

“Know your scales?”

“Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

MC spoke with a renewed confidence, “I can prove it if you’ll let me.”

She tipped her head in the direction of Mozart’s prized possession. He shook his head, already walking back inside, but his gaze remained fixated.

“Meet me here tomorrow after breakfast. Be late and the deal is off. You’ve been warned. I don’t take kindly to tardiness.”

He turned on his heel, punctuating his declaration with a door slam.

...

...Did that really just happen?

‘I don’t know if I should feel honored or threatened? ...or BOTH??’

After a few seconds, the sound of the piano returned at full force, breaking MC out of her reverie. Whatever she was feeling was replaced with a sense of pride in getting herself out of his anger’s reach. Her worries slowly melted into excitement for tomorrow.

Feeling absolutely giddy, she almost forgot her last task of the day. ‘Dining room!’ She picked up her cleaning supplies and made her way to the kitchen, where a row of windows were waiting.

Just as she was done wiping the last one, a hand popped up on the windowsill, followed by another. MC jumped from the suddenness of it, taking a step back as she anticipated the intruder’s next moves. She replaced the towel in her hand with the sturdy mop as her weapon of retaliation. Holding the back end to the window, she prepared herself to attack.

“Oh, hello, Toshiko-san! The weather is lovely today,” he greeted cordially.      

Eh?      

“Dazai?!”

With a huff, he gracefully hoisted himself up and into the dining room.

“Thank you for opening the window for me, it can be such a troublesome thing sometimes,” he shot her a serene smile, one that she couldn’t trust whatsoever.

“You scared the crap out of me! Why did you just climb through the window??”

“Hmmm… Simply put, it’s fun!” He stated with his unwavering smile.  

“W-well, don’t do that. I won’t hesitate to fight you, next time.”

“Ah~ Yoshie-san. You’re so cute when you’re commanding. And what if I do it again, hm?” He challenged with a carefree smile. 

Before she could respond, he walked away with a casual wave behind him, like he didn’t just crawl through the window and scare the soup out of her.

After he turned the corner, MC stared long and hard at the window. Her gaze shifted between the windowsill where Dazai’s hands were once perched, and the archway to the kitchen, where a stick of butter on the counter caught her attention. 

“I guess I just have to show you then...” she mumbled with a wicked cheshire grin etched on her face.

~*~

MC washed her hands of the evidence of her latest scheme, whistling a cheerful tune as one does after applying copious amounts of slippery butter a set of dining room windows. 

She was tidying up the kitchen when Sebastian walked in, ready to make dinner preparations.

“You’re here early, excellent! You’ve been doing well to keep up lately.”

“Why, thank you. I learned from the best,” she mused with a wink.

“Everyone is coming to tonight’s dinner, so we better get started right away.”

Oh, perfect.

And so MC busied herself with dinner preparations, anticipating Dazai’s next unsuspecting climb.

Le Comte de Saint-Germain was happy to see the dining room full of his dear residents. Even Jean was dragged behind Napoleon, who had insisted on the former soldier’s attendance. Le Comte wondered if there was any special occasion that gathered them all, and he voiced his question to his old friend. The polymath shrugged, letting out a puff of smoke from his cigarillo.

Chatter was scattered in the room, Isaac and Napoleon were conversing with Jean. Mozart sat next to Jean with arms crossed, tapping a rhythm with his fingers. Arthur and Theo were bickering about their latest bet with Vincent appointed the mediator of their quarrel.

Le Comte looked on fondly at his residents before his eyebrows knit together in concern. He glanced at his pocket watch while MC and Sebastian made their rounds to serve everyone.

“Where’s Dazai?” Asked a concerned Momte.

Everyone glanced at the window of the dining hall, waiting for his entrance.

“Do you guys smell… butter?” Isaac asked, face scrunched up and confused. 

As if on cue, long slender fingers appeared from the darkness onto the windowsill, but they failed to maintain a firm grip.

“He’s not gunna make it!”

Try as he might, the window fought back.

Dazai’s life flashed before his eyes as time seemed to slow down.

Is it my time, already? Betrayed by my own window-chan. 

Well played... Toshiko-san.

 [Bonus scene]

Back in the dining room, Vincent and Theo, who were nearest to the window,  stood and peered over the edge to search for the eccentric novelist through the darkness.

MC had to excuse herself to avoid laughing out loud in front of them all.

“Not so fast, MC,” Sebastian blocked her escape. 

A thousand flicks were her punishment that evening, on top of a lecture about harming the esteemed residents of the mansion.

“But he’s a vampire! He’ll be fine~.”

Try as he might, Comte could not bring himself to punish MC.  

Arthur had his head thrown back in laugther, enjoying the unexpectedly eventful dinner. Once his laughter died down, he wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to catch his breath. 

He glanced Isaac, who looked far from pleased, “Hey, Newt, do you reckon Dazai’s fall carried enough force to leave a hole where he landed?”

“Is this really the time to inquire about a hole in the ground when Dazai MIGHT HAVE JUST DIED- well, maybe not died,” Isaac’s hand latched onto a lock of his hair twirling it as he continued, “based on the height of the fall and his weight, the gravitational force may not end up large enough to cause fatal damage, but he could still end up with a concussion or what if he landed on a sharp end—that is, unless—"  

Frantic rustling leaves could be heard from the garden below.

“He’s fine! I spotted his head pop out of the bushes,” Vincent announced, and Theo tsked in disappointment. 

“Oh, or… that is also… a possibility.”

“DAZAI-SENSEI, ARE YOU OK?” Sebastian rushed to the window next to Vincent, having finished lecturing MC. Dazai’s head was spinning, but he didn’t seem bothered by the fall at all.

 “I’M FINE, I’M—” 

...and he fainted. 

Everyone turned to MC, who was laughing despite the earlier scolding and the bright red mark on her forehead.  

She simply shrugged, “I said I wouldn’t hesitate.” 

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Max Divine: 1

Before you read: This story is about a teacher and their interactions with different students. Their character is based off of various teachers I’ve had and I’ve met in my life, including my parents. I pull from various personal experiences of various different educators, and place the setting in a fictional school very similar to different schools that exist where I live. Overall, this is a piece of fiction influenced heavily by real world people, places, and events that is very personal to me. I choose to publish this as I write it because it feels like I’m hiding a very vital part of my being by not showing it, and because I have a very different perspective on the behind-the-scenes of education as a profession, as someone who is in a family of generations of teachers. anyways hope you enjoy

Max Divine wakes up at 5 in the morning. The sun is barely rising over the mountains, but he can hear the coffee grind start up outside his bedroom. He stretches, gets out of bed, and goes to take a shower. 

He’s ready to leave, with his bag secured over his shoulder and portable coffee mug (full of coffee) in his hand. He thanks the sky for not making it overly windy today, so that the walk to school won’t be that bad, and so that he doesn’t need to wear a windbreaker.

It’s 6:30 when he enters the building. “Morning Christine.” He nods at one of the office workers, who waves in return. He takes the long way to his classroom, stopping by to say hi to Cecily.

“Anything exciting going to be happening today?” She asks as he starts to leave to get ready for the day.

Max shrugs. “Going over all the rules and also what we’ll be reading this year, so getting ready for the ‘why are we reading another Shakespeare book’ groans.”

“See, this is why I teach science. It’s so much more fun.”

“You also light yourself on fire at the end of the year, I don’t exactly get to do that.”

Cecily just laughs, and Max shakes his head and leaves her room. Unlocking his room, the lights flick on and he takes a deep breath. Posters of various books and movies cover the walls, and the large bookcase full of various books in various states of wear sits right next to his desk.

He puts his bag down, takes a dark green marker, and writes ‘Mr. Max Divine’ as big as he can make it on the board. Below that, he puts ‘Queer Club - Mondays during lunch’ below that. On the other side of the board, he puts up the Google Classroom code, as well as a url before walking back to his desk.

Taking out the very, very large stack of syllabi, he double checks that everything is in order and ready to go before relaxing. He checks the clock, thirty minutes before the first period, enough time to triple check everything in depth.

There’s a knock at the door, and Max looks up to see a kid with a backpack standing in the doorframe. “Uh, are you Mr. Divine?” They ask, looking down at their phone.

Max nods. “Indeed, if you’re here for first you can sit wherever you want. What’s your name?”

“Sol.” They say, taking a step into the classroom. “Sol Vicario.”

He nods again. “Well, Sol, you can sit in here until the bell rings, or you can leave your bag in here and go get breakfast, or talk to friends, or whatever.”

Silently, Sol takes a seat right in the middle of the sea of desks, pulls out some earbuds, and closes their eyes. 

Max watches Sol for another few moments, then pulls up the mini-form he made last night. He puts it as an assignment, then goes back through everything a third time.

The first bell rings, and he gets ready to start.

Desks slowly are populated by various kids, and Max starts attendance the moment the second bell rings. Then, he stands up and walks to the front of the room.

“Welcome to English 12.” He smiles. “I am Mr. Divine, and yes, that is indeed my last name. Written all pretty on my birth certificate too.” There’s one or two laughs, but mostly everyone looks very tired. “Now it’s time for the worst part of today, the first period teacher monologue, and the reading of the syllabus.”

“So we’ll start with what most teachers might start with, that mess of letters and numbers is the Classroom code. If you need me to read it to you, I can do that too. There’s already a small thing you need to do in there, but it’s not too long, I promise. Just a little form to get to know you guys a little better. And while you do that, I’ll pass out the syllabus to each of you.”

There’s a few groans, as expected. “I know, boring stuff, so I’ll go over it quickly.” He hands a stack to the first person in each row. “There’s only a few rules. One, if I’m doing a lecture, please pay attention. It’s for your education, and you can listen to music when doing your own work. Two, respect is a huge deal here. Respect others, and respect me, and we’ll be just fine. Three, put at least a little effort into everything you turn in. If you’re having issues, come talk to me. I’m here before school, during lunch, and after class. Except on Mondays, when the queer club is here.”

“And now that the big rules lecturing is out of the way, on the back of the syllabus is all the stories we will be reading, as well as when major projects will be started. After every story we will run a Socratic seminar. If you do not enjoy speaking, you can write a personal analysis on part of the story to show you understood some of it.”

Max takes a deep breath. “Alright, in the classroom is that form. There is also something that says its due next week, that is the first actual assignment. You are going to write about an important moment to you, or something that you hold dear. Either a recounting of it, a description of it, how it influenced or influences you, anything. You can even do multiple things, it just needs to be one page.”

There’s more groans, and Max laughs. “Welcome to senior English, everyone!”

-

@tylerisdone @redacted-thething @the-golden-dragoness

I hope you all enjoy, it feels a little awkward, but this is also technically the first day of school :) i really do have ideas for mr. divine, i promise

[morganofthewildfire]

Investigation

- 1000 words

——————————-

Rowan Whitethorn hadn’t expected his day to turn out like this. He’d woken up that morning to the sun shining, birds chirping, everything just as it always was. He’d changed into his work clothes, tossing down some coffee and breakfast before hopping in his car and driving to the station.

He’d cursed at the traffic like always, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited at lights, frowning as he pulled into the parking lot, rolling his eyes at other people’s abysmal parking jobs.

But it was when he got into the building that he noticed something was off. Everyone was tense, hushed whispers and rushed movements from the normal black and whites, his fellow detectives, and the chief herself. Rowan frowned as he made his way to his desk, making eye contact with his coworker Lorcan, who was waiting for him and staring with a look that only meant one thing.

“Another one?” He asked, already cursing again when Lorcan nodded. “Shit.”

Doranelle was a relatively safe city, without much crime, keeping their job fairly easy, but there’d recently been an upsurge. And not petty crimes like small value theft or fights, no. There was a serial killer on the loose.

“Middle aged man, found early this morning in the alley behind The Vaults,” Lorcan said flatly, slapping down a file on Rowan’s desk as he sat down. “They’re prepping for the briefing in the conference room right now, and we’ll go see the scene after that, but - “ he trailed off, holding something back.

“What?” He pressed, but Lorcan just shook his head.

“You’ll see.”

Rowan huffed but flipped through the file as Lorcan left, going to the conference room, where he himself would go in a second. He needed to look through the previous kills first, so he’d be prepared to better make connections when he saw the new scene.

He sighed through his nose as he flipped through the pictures of the past murders, most of them middle aged men, all killed with a knife. He knew they must be connected in some way, likely shady shit based on where each killing took place. He couldn’t really know yet how each of them were involved, without the final piece that would link them all. Rowan knew that that piece had to be a suspect. Just one single suspect.

Because they didn’t have any yet.

So far, all the killings had been clean, no traces of anything to lead back to someone, no motive detected because they couldn’t even figure out who all the damned victims were. Some of them were off the grid, or deep underground, and they weren’t in the system. So they were stuck.

It had been a constant knot in Rowan’s brain, the intense focus on this case almost drowning out his other pain. The more recent heartbreak that he’d been shoving aside.

He could put himself into catching this killer rather than examining where everything had gone wrong, letting red as dark as blood fill his mind instead of a golden as bright as sunlight.

So with another huff, he slammed the file shut, rubbing a hand down his face before pushing up into a stand and walking toward the conference room, where Lorcan, the Moonbeam twins, Vaughan, and even the chief of the station Maeve, were waiting for him.

His attention went straight toward the board Lorcan was standing next to, automatically analyzing the crime scene photos taped on. The body was sprawled out on the asphalt alleyway, auburn hair tangled and partly in the large pool of blood spilling from the wounds in his chest.

But his face paled, because he recognized the man. Had seen his face in an old picture, a picture his ex girlfriend had found when going through her old boxes of stuff, which she then showed him and promptly torn up, spitting on it as she threw it into the fireplace. She’d then proceeded to give Rowan a short and abridged version of his involvement in her past, her mouth tight with anger the whole time. He’d wormed his way into control over me and someone I was close to, and then proceeded to take that control and wreck us both.

And he had never pushed for more. But now he wished he had, as the man’s empty eyes stared up to the sky.

“What’s different about this one?” Rowan asked tensely, staring his closest friend in the eyes. Lorcan tightened his mouth, looking down at the paper he still held in his hands.

“They made a mistake,” he said.

“The victim?” Rowan asked, furrowing his brows. Lorcan shook his head.

“The killer,” he clarified, and Rowan breathed in sharply. “They were too frantic this time, or maybe the victim managed to fight back and pulled it off of them, but either way, it’s something.”

“What do we have?” Rowan breathed, leaning forward in his chair. Without saying anything, Lorcan slapped up the next picture, and Rowan froze, blood draining from his face.

Because the picture was of a very familiar necklace. A necklace he himself had bought, had taken weeks to pick out, determined the gift should be special for their one year anniversary. Even if that year, and the second year after it, had been tossed aside and torn up by the very person who he’d given that necklace to.

It was a simple one, with a plain silver chain, with the pendant a single word, spelled out in silver cursive letters:

Fireheart

[ventura-starlight]

line without a hook

A/N: hello my beautiful angels! This is based on a little funny story I had a little while ago. One day I was just scrolling and stumbled upon this absolutely adorable video. In the video, this lovely human named addie talks about a scenario she had while shifting. I fell in love with the idea and asked if I could write a fic based on it and she said yes!!! I really hope she enjoys this lol. If you’re reading this addie thank you so much and I hope this doesn’t completely suck :)

I’ll shut up now and let you all enjoy this. Remember to stay safe, wear your masks, drink some water, and enjoy yourselves. Love you!!!

**Addie’s tik tok: adrienneisntmyname**

Summary: what happens when you stay at the burrow for the first time? With the Weasley’s, chaos always ensues.

Warnings: none! just cute fluff I am pretty sure. I tried to keep it a general reader as well so If i messed that up let me know <3

*+.-°><°-.+*

It was the holidays at Hogwarts but all I could feel was bitterness. My family was on a trip during the holidays and I would be home alone throughout the whole break. With a long sigh, I sat next to my boyfriend of 6 months, George Weasley as he chatted with his twin Fred.

“What’s got you down sweetheart?” George said when he felt my presence next to him. I explained all that was going on. He knew how much I adored the holidays and could just see how upset I was. None of that helped the utter shock of what he said next, however. 

“Why don’t you come back with Fred and me for the holidays.” looking back between the twins with my eyes practically bulging out of my skull.

“I think you broke her Georgie” Fred chuckled at my shocked expression.

When George had asked me to stay at the burrow I was absolutely terrified. I mean this was the first time I would be at the burrow with his family. This was the first time I would meet his parents and be under the same roof as all the Weasley children. Still, I agreed, shaking with fear and excitement.

Terrified. Yeah, that was the perfect way to describe it. Absolutely terrified.

George knew how scared I was about the whole thing so when I got there he was outside the house with Fred waiting for me. He came up and grabbed my bags. He stopped outside the door and turned to me.

“Y/N I don’t want you to be afraid. It’s just my family and I know my parents are gonna love you. You already know some of my siblings and they seem to tolerate you so that’s lovely isn’t it?” he chuckled. Way to go George, way to make me even more nervous than before. Walking into the burrow was truly something magical. The warm smell of cinnamon and a warm fire filled my lungs, laughing and shouting rang through the house as Fred ran off to mess with Percy. Ginny smiled at me as she walked through, this being her wish for good luck. 

“Mum!!! Y/N is here!” a crash was heard from the kitchen and a loud shout from a feminine voice at George’s words. The infamous Molly Weasley came into the room, flour dusting the apron she was wearing and her face. Immediately I was trapped in a bear hug as Molly laughed

“Oh my goodness Y/N you are even more stunning the Georgie says! Are you sure you want him I mean he is a bit of a mess.” I laughed at George’s shocked expression.

“Mother you wound me!” He feigned hurt and put his hand over his heart, clutching the shirt he was wearing in his hands.

“Oh, Georgie don’t be so dramatic!” I laughed “It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs.Weasley.” I finished turning to Molly.

“I will have none of that. Just call me mum sweetheart.” she smiled warmly “Go ahead and show her to Ginny’s room Georgie, let her settle in, and then you can come down and get acquainted with everyone.” George nodded at his mother’s words and picked up my bags and lead me upstairs. 

When we got upstairs and I started to get settles George grabbed my waist and pulled me into a hug. “Now was that so bad sweetheart?” I only chuckled and shook my head.

“No I suppose not, thank you for letting me come stay Georgie.” a kiss was placed on my forehead. 

“Don’t thank me Y/N. Besides, having you here gives Fred and me an alibi for the genius pranks we have planned against Percy.” he chuckled and pressed kisses all over my face. Laughs emitted from both of our throats as we fell onto the twin size mattress I would be sleeping on. I stopped for a second, taking a moment to stare at the man above me. His laughs calmed and he looked down and met my eyes. Moments flew by as we just stared at each other. George leaned in and gave me a passionate kiss. His lips were slightly chapped but still soft and sweet. I could spend hours kissing his lips, I probably would have.

“GINNY! Y/N AND GEORGE ARE MAKING OUT ON THE BED!” Fred cried. With that George and I jumped away from each other, blush coating our already flushed cheeks. This was the beginning of one of the best winters I had ever had.

~*~

I had woken up the next morning to laughing coming from downstairs. I sat up in the bed and stretched, hearing my bones crack loudly behind me. A cold shiver runs off my spine as I take a few breaths to try and assist in waking myself up. Waffles and other breakfast smells that I couldn’t identify with the only few minutes of consciousness circling through me. I trudged downstairs with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. The laughs only got louder as I continued down the stairs. Honestly, I wasn’t very worried about laughing. I was more worried about a cup of something warm and a nice breakfast. In the days leading up to coming to the burrow, Freddie talked nonstop about the food his mother would make during my stay. My stomach let out light rumbles as I reached the kitchen. Being greeted with warm rays of sunlight coming in the windows littered the walls of the room felt nice on the cold parts of my body, yet to have warmed up.

“Georgie I dunno if she will be very impressed with that.” George’s clenched his jaw at his brother’s words. I wasn’t really sure what he was doing so I tried to peer further into the kitchen. I knew if I went too far Molly would see me and ruin whatever the twins were working on.

“Fred I don’t really remember asking your opinion.” I heard Ginny laugh and saw her pass over a roll of tape to George. 

“Well, you don’t really have to worry about hiding your Uhm...bouquet from Y/N. Our sleeping beauty is awake.” Ginny pointed towards the door frame where I stood watching the scene. George hid whatever he was working on as Molly flew into the room

“Good Morning Y/N! I hope you slept well! Breakfast should be ready soon so make yourself something to drink. I have tea ready but if you prefer coffee we have that too or we ha-”

Fred cut her off mid-sentence “Mum I think she can make something just fine.” With a huff and a sarcastic glare, Molly wandered back into the kitchen. Mutters of “good mornings”  were heard from the Weasley siblings after Molly left the room. I wandered into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. When I looked back to George he was desperately taping together pieces of paper. A few of the cut pieces were stuck to a long piece of tape he was trying to cut. I walk back over to him and gaze at the look of concentration painted in his expression. Pink tongue stuck out slightly, eyes narrowing to focus on whatever he was working on.

“Are you trying to romance me?” I asked as he jumped. He took a breath as a deep red flush flooded his cheeks and reached his ears. Thank goodness (more for him) his the rest of the Weasley siblings were focused on their own conversations rather than our little exchange. He moved slightly, inadvertently showing the small army of paper flowers. His large hands gathered the roses in his hands, trying to make them into a makeshift bouquet. George handed them to me, scratching the back of his neck.

“Is it working?” He chuckled, still embarrassed. Some flowers were slightly askew, the tape being shown through the petals but it was perfect. Sure maybe they were a little messy but who cares? George made them and that was all that mattered. “I thought you might like them,” he continued “You always get sad when I get you flowers and they die, so I thought this might be a better option.” he smiled. 

“Your romancing is definitely working Georgie” I say, taking the roses from his hand. I trap him in a hug. “Thank you Georgie” He only chuckles and holds me tighter, kissing the top of my head.

“Anything for you Y/N” The sweet silence we shared as we swayed wasn’t one that was suffocating or awkward. It was more peaceful. No matter the loud crashes and stories surrounding us, it felt as though it was just the two of us.

“OH MY GOODNESS GEORGE IS BEING SOFT!” Fred cried, causing everyone’s attention to fall on us. Over the teasing and laughing that came from everyone in the Weasley family I had only one thought in my head. This was home. Home is with George, and no matter how chaotic, no matter how many sweet moments were ruined by his family, they were my family too. Now the only thing to do was to enjoy the rest of winter, something I figure wouldn’t be very hard to do.

*+.-°><°-.+*

@70swonderpoisonstark ​ @skyeisaprincess ​ @brianmydear ​ @casuallywriting ​ @fantasticnewtimagines ​ @silversslytherin @mercerss ​ @hunter-with-a-tardis ​ @ghullehh ​ @living-through-the-fictional ​ @fire-in-her-veinz ​ @regalillegal ​ @a-hopeless-fan ​

[joheun-saram]

promise - 1 (knj)

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve

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Summary- It’s NYE and you can’t wait to bring in 2017 surrounded by your friends, but there’s a new cute boy around. You’re intrigued but quickly find out there is it’s no good being cute when he’s literally the most infuriating person you’ve met.

word count- 3.1k

pairing- asshole!Namjoon x Reader (alternatively, edgelord!Namjoon)

rating- PG15

genre- collegeau, roommatesau, enemies2lovers, slow burn, this chapter is platonic fluff(and angst I guess), future angst, fluff and smut

warnings- alcohol consumption, marijuana consumption, Namjoon being an absolute ass, he’s against socialism for a hot second (to rile her up, our Joonie is still woke tho nw), mention of sex, Jungkook’s parents based on my actual best friend’s parents (shoutout to their amazing jello shots!)

a.n- Well, well, well... if it isn’t my simp ass writing another Namjoon series. Love that about me. Get ready for some slow burn and a lot of Namjoon just being annoying! 🥴This is a drabbleish series so most parts will be about 2-3k.

Thanks for the beautiful @ditttiii​ for beta reading and to @aroseforyoongi​ for helping me with the political argument (also for dubbing this Namjoon edgelord!joon 🤣)

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist- @namyoongles​ @cheesecakes-randomshitz​ 

Send me an ask to be on the taglist!

-

You were running late. Very late.  With a sigh you watched the street pass you by in a blur, the distant roar of your bus dimmed by the rap music that blasted through your ears. You looked at the group chat to be bombarded by messages.

Jungkook: bro istg if you’re not here in the next ten minutes

Hoseok: HURRY UP! JK IS DOING SHOTS WITH HIS DAD OMFG

Jimin: OMG Y/N. WE’RE GETTING DRUNK WITHOUT YOU

Jungkook: adsdsd duddde u suk wdt syop taling foevr

Yoongi: I’m gonna drink all the whiskey I got from Korea this week if you don’t get your butt over here.

Yoongi: Jieun says hi btw!

The texts continued to devolve into nonsense as you willed the bus to move faster. You were annoyed. Jungkook had planned the new year’s party at his parent’s house, and you were beyond excited to party, having spent the entire winter break stuck at home with your parents as they argued over the smallest things. You tightened your grip around your duffle bag as the bus came to a stop. Trudging through the snow you finally reached the familiar red door of your best friend’s house.

You knocked, taking in the large three-storey suburban house as you waited to be let in, already digging through your backpack for the bottle of tequila you had brought along. If they took any more time to open the door, you were going to start drinking right there on the porch. Before you could uncap your bottle, you were greeted by Jungkook’s dad, the familiar, jolly older man moved his hair out of his eyes as he greeted you.

However, before you could finally get out of the cold, he stopped you, presenting a tray of colourful jello shots.

“Y/N! Penalty for being late. You have to take a shot!” He laughed as you sputtered, his face reddened by what you assumed was alcohol. You had known Jungkook since the two of you were freshmen in university and had routinely stayed with him and his parents during break, but you had never seen Mr. Jeon this drunk. You stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do as he insisted, your friend finally joining him and encouraging you as you tentatively took a shot.

“I changed my mind! One of every colour!” Mr Jeon exclaimed joyously as Jungkook groaned.

“Dad! It’s cold. Let her in!” He whined and thankfully, you were let in. Taking off your shoes and leaving your bag by the door, you ventured into the living room where you saw all your friends. Hoseok leaned where he sat on the couch, his face buried in his phone as he, no doubt, texted his hookup. Jimin danced next to the Christmas tree the Jeons had yet to put away with a glass of liquor as Yoongi played the piano in the corner, cuddling with his girlfriend Jieun. Bubbling warmth swelled your heart as you saw all your favourite people.

“Come on let’s get you a drink!” Jungkook put his arm around you, planting most of his weight on you due to the alcohol raging through his veins as he guided you to the kitchen through the living room. In the kitchen, you were met by the sight of his parents swaying together to Yoongi’s expert piano skills, and a man you didn’t recognize sitting at the breakfast island, talking to Jungkook’s younger sister animatedly, who seemed to be trying to leave the conversation.

Jungkook poured you a rum and coke, easy on the coke, as he made his way to the breakfast bar. You stood next to his sister, making small talk before she excused herself to go to her room. She never stuck around long during these get-togethers. 

When she left, you were left standing awkwardly next to the only stranger at this party. The first thing you noticed was that he was tall. Much taller than all your friends, his dark black hair styled away from his face, a strand falling on his forehead shaped like a comma. He was dressed much like everyone else in dark wash jeans and a navy t-shirt with white leaves outlined on the sleeves, except his jeans fit him almost too perfectly, sculpting his thick thighs. Although he seemed friendly, greeting you with a pretty dimpled smile, your sudden attraction to him made you nervous.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon,” he said, eyeing you from over his cup as he sipped whatever concoction he was drinking.

“Oh shit! I keep forgetting you guys have never met!” Jungkook slurred as he sidled up to the two of you with his stool, leaving you standing between the two sitting boys. “Namjoon and I have been friends for years. I think we probably met the same time you and I did, but I guess we never ended up meeting together?” He ended his statement as a question, and it surprised you. You thought in three years you would have met all of his friends. 

“Well, that and I took a break from school. I was doing an internship in California.” He beamed, clearly proud of his achievement. “I worked at Twitch, you know them?” He smirked, and you had to fight your urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he worked in Cali. You went to a university renowned for its engineering degree and it was the goal of every software engineering student to land an internship in California. Those lucky enough to achieve it used it as social currency and bragging rights. You despise those people. It wasn’t that you weren’t smart enough to land that opportunity, in fact, you were coming off of your internship with Facebook last term, but you always felt flaunting a job to be such an ugly trait. However, Namjoon was Jungkook’s friend and so you let it slide.

“Ah Twitch. Very cool.” you hummed as you drank.

“Yeah. What program are you in?” He asked, continuing the conversation as Jungkook disappeared to talk to his parents, trying to convince them to retire for the night since they had embarrassed him enough.

“Computer science,” you replied non-committedly, watching his face break into a wide smile.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Me too!” He replied excitedly. You had to admit, his smile was very charming and you let your guard down a little more. Maybe he just got influenced by kids in your program to brag about Cali. “I haven’t seen you in any of my classes though! Would’ve remembered you. None of the other compsci girls are this pretty.” He smirked, clearly proud of his flirtatious comment. You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately put off.

“So glad to know you deem me pretty enough to notice.” You rolled your eyes, before grabbing your bottle of tequila and a few disposable shot glasses and making your way to the living room. “Well, it was… okay to meet you. I’m gonna go do shots.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, did I offend you?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he easily caught up to you, walking beside you and even sitting next to you on the floor, as you lined up the glasses to pour the drinks for everyone.

“No it’s cool, dude. We just don’t have anything in common,” you said nonchalantly as the rest of your friends crowded the table, excitedly taking a shot glass in hand as Jungkook waltzed in with a plate full of lime wedges and an intricately expensive-looking salt shaker. Namjoon didn’t say anything as everyone took their shots, but watched you throw back your drink, noticing the small smile that overtook your features as the alcohol from earlier finally started to take effect. 

After a few more shots, the party really started. Although there were only seven people, your rowdy, borderline chaotic group had you laughing. Hoseok was going on some tale about his adventures back home where he ended up at a bar with his high school friends and got the numbers of four girls by doing a disgustingly named muff-diver shot. He bragged about his game, and you burst his bubble by telling him it was really only because he was hot. Something he didn’t take much offence to as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Namjoon, however, came to Hoseok’s defence, much to your annoyance.

“And how would you know? I doubt Hobi here has used his A+ game on you.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… you guys are friends, I doubt he would try to pick you up.” He spoke with a logical tone, as he eyed you and Hoseok.

“Oh really? Okay Hobi. Since your game is so great. Let’s see it.” You turned around, staring at your friend next to you. Namjoon leaned back against his hands on the floor, watching the scene unfold with a smirk.

“Really darling? Don’t blame me when you fall for me.” Hoseok moved closer, finishing his drink as you huffed in annoyance. You were in your first stage of drunk, the stage where you got mean for no reason

“Get on with it, loser. Your face is making me drier as we speak.” You waved as Hoseok leaned in, his nose rubbing gently against your ear, his breath on your neck, making you shiver slightly.

“Hey baby, how about you let me take you downstairs and defile you on Jungkook’s Iron Man sheets.” His voice was low, almost a growl. You never thought you would hear Hoseok’s sexy pickup voice and you were sure that if you were someone who had not seen him whine and cling onto you after a few drinks, you’d be putty in his hand. Instead, you burst out laughing, doubling over with your hands on his thighs as tears of mirth filled your eyes. Not one to give up that easily, Hoseok continued.

“See. I’m a funny guy Y/N. Let me eat that pussy!” He couldn’t hold back any longer either, his voice breaking at the word pussy as he too devolved into a fit of laughter. His comment, however, broke Yoongi and Jieun out of their bubble as they looked up from their make out session, looks of horror on their faces.

“Please tell me you did not just say that Hobi!” Jieun chided, her voice shrill.

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Yoongi shivered as he drank more of his whiskey in an attempt to calm himself. Hoseok and you continued laughing at your friends’ reaction, the rest of the group joining in, except Namjoon who seemed to be watching the two of you with raised brows.

“Wait. I don’t get it. That should’ve worked.”

“Yeah dude. Y/N what the fuck? Let me eat that pussy!” Hoseok grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you while screaming at your face, between giggles.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna get a stomach ache. Stop!” you wheezed, before turning to Namjoon. “Sorry dude. I’ve literally helped Hobi pee once. There’s no going back to sexy when you see him whine about forgetting how urinating works.”

“Yeah and no offence babe, but you literally had your hands on my dick and it was flaccid as hell.”

“You guys are weirdly close,” Namjoon commented, his face scrunched as he assessed you and Hoseok.

“You think they’re close, you should see her and Jungkook. They even slept together!” Jimin remarks finally sitting down after dancing by himself for the past twenty minutes.

“And it was fucking horrible. High five!” Jungkook leans over the coffee table to slap his hand against yours, the two of you giggling.

“What kind of incestuous group is this?” Namjoon remarked, sipping his drink before turning to you where he watched you leaned over the table as you still slapped your hand against Jungkook’s to the beat of the music. “So when’s my turn?”

“Excuse me?” You recoil away from Namjoon, almost jumping in Hoseok’s lap. Oh here it was; stage two of your drunk persona, anger. You felt it coursing in your veins at his insinuation. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Apparently the group dick toucher.” He smirked again, that annoying lopsided smile that made his one dimple deepen in his cheek. “I promise I won’t be flaccid like Hobi was.”

“Okay! Y/N and I are going on a walk!” Hoseok exclaimed as he saw your fist clenched. He knew you were ten seconds away from punching Namjoon in the face, and he put his arms around your waist and easily hoisted you up, walking you to the front door.

“Hobi I swear to god, I’m gonna murder him.” You glared at Namjoon as he returned your heated stare with an easy smile and a wave.

“I know babe. So we’re going on a walk. Let’s go pick up some food, yeah?”

The two of you walked around the block to the nearest McDonalds, picking up an assortment of cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets for the party, even getting Namjoon what he wanted, despite your burning desire that he starve to death. By the time, you returned to the party and took a couple more shots you were sufficiently cheered up. Hoseok had that affect on you, calming your mood with his jokes and anecdotes. 

Cuddled with Hoseok as you sat between his legs on the couch, the two of you shared a vape as you let the weed settle in your bones with a mellow buzz. Jimin sat in front of you on the floor, leaning against you as you ran your hands through his hair, enjoying the soft fluff. You were so glad that he had decided to forego his usual hair wax today. You felt like you were in utter bliss, your annoyance with Namjoon long forgotten. That is until you tuned into his conversation with Jungkook - not that you had any choice, because even though he seemed to be talking to Jungkook, his eyes were pointed at you.

“I’m just saying capitalism is the reason you’re sitting here in this nice home. People who can’t afford healthcare or education just need to work harder. That’s how life works.” Namjoon sipped his drink, raising an eyebrow at you, and you decidedly ignored his baiting. It was like he was trying to get you mad on purpose. You didn’t understand his gameplan. Why couldn’t he just let you enjoy bringing in 2017 like an adult?

“Dude… why are we even talking about this?” Jungkook groaned, face scrunching in distaste.

“I’m just saying people shouldn’t look for a handout when there are literally thousands of skills they could learn to make their lives easier. Why are we using our tax dollars for the lazy?” Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze boring holes into you as you stared him down. Oh curse your stupid resolve, why did this fucker know you so well, you literally just met! Before you could stop yourself, you were speaking.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid? That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Education and healthcare are a human right!” Your voice was louder than usual, startling Hoseok and Jimin as you suddenly stood up, walking over to where a smug looking Namjoon and a confused Jungkook sat on the floor.

“I’m not, but you must be, to not realize that we could invest in teaching people skills to make money instead of just giving them money. Don’t tell me you’re a communist.” He sipped his drink, his eyes dancing with mirth, relishing the fact that he had gotten you to argue. And argue you did, for over an hour, the room forgotten as the two of you discussed social policies and taxation laws, ignoring Jungkook’s protests (“We live in a social democracy!”). You could feel the fire in your veins as you raised your voice, while he calmly discussed the matter at hand. Even though Namjoon was the most infuriating person you had ever met, the fact that he kept up with your arguments was extremely satisfying. Your friends knew you were the kind of person to debate a point until all the sides were uncovered so they would never start an argument with you, and as much as you hated Namjoon, you loved that he was such a great sparring partner.

“Oh my god! Shut the fuck up!” Jimin yelled suddenly, breaking you and Namjoon out of your bubble, as you looked at your usually bubbly friend, staring daggers at you. You sheepishly apologized, just as the countdown began.

Everyone stood and you followed suit. However the alcohol in your body decided to catch up as you stumbled, instinctively grabbing on to Namjoon’s arm to not fall over. As you’ve started to realize is his ammo, he one-upped you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Fuck, why does it feel so nice and firm?

The countdown got closer to one and you felt trapped by his gaze, an intense look in his eye as he smirked at you. His eyes travelled from your eyes to your lips and you felt as if your chest was getting tighter.

“Three!” your friends yelled, but your mouth felt too dry to speak up. You licked your lips and Namjoon’s smirk widened. Why did you find his arrogant face so attractive all of a sudden? You wanted to punch him not two seconds ago!

“Two!” He started to lean in and despite yourself, you started anticipating his lips on yours. 

“One!” Suddenly, your earlier resolve kicked in. No dude who insulted you all night was going to touch you. You pushed him off turning around to Jungkook.

“Happy New Year!” You pulled your best friend towards you by his collar, giving him a loud peck on the lips as everyone cheered. Jungkook smiled, pulling you into a hug and jostling you around, giving you a chance to catch the dumbfounded look on Namjoon’s face.

You hugged all of your friends in turn, and when Namjoon, still with his mouth slightly ajar, looked at you expectantly, you raised your hand to him with a smug smile. You kind of felt bad for the way he deflated before he shook your hand, but before you could dwell too much on that feeling, he tugged you closer.

“Well played,” he whispered in your ear, his breath ghosting your neck, and you felt heat rising up your neck. You pulled away with a scowl and before he could say anything else, your phone pinged, the screen lit with the last name you wanted to see.

Taehyung (3 messages)

Oh great. What did the fuck did he want?

-

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I hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. For more of my works visit my masterlist!

[olderthanthemorning]

Be My Mistake (Draco Malfoy)

pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader, ex!George Weasley x Reader

summary: trying to get over someone by getting under someone else doesn’t work out as well as everyone claims (based on the song “be my mistake” by the 1975)

wc: 2.4K

warnings: angst, some steamy scenes but no smut

a/n: hello! this is my first imagine and first time i’ve written anything for fun in actual years! i’d love feedback!

****

Be my mistake Then turn out the light She bought me those jeans The ones you like

You fell next to me, still breathing heavily, and I rolled over onto my side, staring at the jeans that were thrown haphazardly across the room before we climbed into my bed. They were worn and hugged me in a number of places, all of which were right, according to you. In the moments after you said this, I couldn't think of a witty response, because your attention only reminded me where the pants came from. How I pulled them out of the gift bag and shrieked, and looked at him, who knew I had been eyeing them for weeks now at the local vintage store. I remember throwing my entire body onto his, trying to encompass all of my love and appreciation into one embrace, and the small laugh he let out. He wrapped his arms around my waist, where your hands had been moments ago. It didn't feel the same, though. You both have large hands, but his are rough and calloused contrasted by the warmth they always seemed to possess. Yours are smooth and gentle, but still obviously in control. Pale and slender, they're like icicles at times, but I don't mind, I'm thankful for the differences on nights like this one. Your soft snores bring me back to the present, and I turn back to see your eyes closed, so softly that it looks like you could open them at any moment. Your lips are parted slightly, your bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, a time signature to dance to. I take in the sight for a few seconds before turning again, my back to you as I strain to reach the small lamp and turn off the light. As I close my eyes, I wonder if tomorrow will be the day I wake up and find enough fulfillment in your hands to forget his.

I don't want a hug I just wanna sleep The smell of your hair Reminds me of her feet

I remember starting to cry as your lips moved with mine. It was silent, but unable to ignore. Bitterness and salty tears entered my mouth and ruined the moment. I remember feeling pathetic as you pulled away and open your eyes in concern, I mean who cries during a hook up? You kept asking me if I was okay and what was going on. I just want to keep going, I wanted your touch engulfing me so I couldn't think of anything else. I want to feel you and no one else. If it had been any other time I probably would've noticed the uncharacteristic softness in your tone as you tell me I can stay with you that night. I could tell you're trying to find a way to ask what was wrong, why I'm so upset, but I'm not interested in having a heart to heart with the boy I was sleeping with about the boy I was in love with, and how they weren't the same person, so I ignore your obvious curiosity. All I want is to sleep, and you're more than content to agree, preparing the blankets. You offer me one of your shirts to sleep in, but I shake my head and decide to just use mine. After a few minutes of silence, I lay down and think about how your bed is colder than I recall. You pull me into your chest, close enough that I could feel your breath, and smell your scent. Most of our encounters had smelled like sweat, sex, and desperation. But tonight you smell like rain and mint, and there was a musky wood smell left over from your conditioner. It brought me back to the summers with George. Running through the grass after a rain, our feet stomping through puddles that exploded and coated our legs in water and bits of mud. Trying to beat each other to the bottom of a hill, only to slip on the slick ground, tackling the other on the way down. His mother would scold us for tracking mud in the house, but would wrap us in towels and blankets and hand us cups of hot tea nevertheless. He would wrap his long arms around my shoulders for warmth and place his head on top of mine, humming a nameless melody. He whispers "I love you," but it's almost as if it's not to me. He speaks it to the room around us, as a quiet declaration. A way to let the place he loved, the place he grew up in, know how he felt. I feel more hot tears fall from my closed eyes onto your pillow and feel myself slip into sleep. The last thing I remember is your thumb wiping away the wetness on my cheek. It was slow but assured, like you had been practicing the motion for months.

So don't wait outside my hotel room Just wait 'til I give you a sign 'Cause I get lonesome sometimesSave all the jokes you're gonna make While I see how much drink I can take Then be my mistake

The portraits in the corridor are all sleeping as I slink back towards my common room. I can tell I've had about half a drink too many as I stare at the ground and try to feel like the hallway was moving sideways. The party in the Ravenclaw tower had been a good one, aside from the slightly pretentious music playing. I make a note to tell my roommate that the cute boy from your herbology class had asked about her again. A curse escapes my lips as I trip over my own feet and catch myself in time to look up and see you leaned against the wall next to the portrait entrance. "New day with the new legs, huh?" a knowing smirk creeps across your face and I roll my eyes. "Verrrrry funny, Draco. You been waiting here all night?" I approach him and link my hands together behind his neck, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear, "I can sneak you upstairs if you want." You frown, becoming aware of the alcohol on my breath and sigh, "No, I actually think you should go up to bed. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"You're no fun," the skin on your neck is sweet and tender and I start to pepper it with kisses, trying to convince you to stay, "come on, I know you want to."

"No, you're drunk," you lift my arms and duck under the hold I have you in.

"Then why are you even here?" I can feel a spark of agitation growing in my chest, fueled by the heat left behind by the alcohol. "If you didn't come here to for that then why did you come at all?"

"I came here to talk, y/n, I didn't think you would be wasted." You scoffed and looked away, you thought after all the nights together, it wasn't a surprise you wanted to see me again.

"Please, that's not what this is. It's just sex. You know that." I turned away in annoyance, looking around to focus on anything but your eyes burning into my back.

"You cried to me and you sleep in my bed, I'm sorry if I thought that meant it was maybe more than sex!" I can hear the frustration in your voice.

I whipped around, "well it's not! it's just fucking. I told you that from the beginning. I don't know why you're getting attached, you're not my bloody boyfriend!" On the last word I push you, huffing in anger, pieces of my hair dangling in front of my face.

You back up, mostly out of shock, as my push couldn't actually throw your large frame off balance. There's a glimmer of hurt in your eyes, but mostly it's a look of defeat as you just say, "clearly," pressing your lips into a thin line and spinning to walk away down the dimly lit hall.

"That was brutal," a portrait of an older man holding a french horn said looking at me.

"Fuck off," I say before turning to say the password and enter the common room.

I shouldn't have called 'Cause we shouldn't speak You do make me hard But she makes me weak

A week later you're in my room again, loosening your tie and slipping your hands under my sweater. Neither of us had said anything about the argument, but what we were doing didn't require talking, so it wasn't brought up. Your lips are on mine, full of longing and lust, frantic to continue. Our tongues fought for dominance as I fell backwards onto my bed, you fell on top of me, your firm body flush on mine. It's hungry, like we are both searching for something in each others' lips. You taste like spearmint and cigarettes and kind of like darkness, like kissing cold shadows. It was a refreshing vapor that left wherever you touched tingling. It was like the reality of a cloud, misty yet powerful. It wasn't like kissing George. Kissing George was like that feeling of waking up for a split second in the morning and being able to close your eyes again and be reemerged in the amazing dream you were having. It was relieving. It made me think about the song that goes "I'll stop the world and melt with you," because that's what it was like. I was completely at his disposal, vulnerable and open, but so was he. He tasted like honey and citrus, which reminded me of warm summer days. The kisses were often broken up by laughs as we stumbled around whatever room or corner we were in, George usually hitting his head on something, and me kissing it better as he buried his face in my neck, covering it and my shoulder in smaller kisses.

You bite my lip and I moan, remembering who I'm with. Opening my eyes, I can't help but feel a small drop in my stomach, like something was lost. I try to focus on the feeling of your hands on me, needy but confident, but I can't push the feeling completely away. It sits near me on the bed side table, not interfering, but waiting, watching, knowing that it'll have my attention once you and I are finished.

And don't wait outside my hotel room Just wait 'til I give you a sign 'Cause I get lonesome sometimes Save all the jokes you're gonna make

While I see how much drink I can take Then be my mistake

On my way to my table for breakfast, I make a deliberate detour to the Slytherin table. The usual gang surrounds you as you laugh at their jokes between sips of juice. Your smile is casual, and you look happy. You always look more beautiful when you look happy. I barely have to stop as I lean down and whisper in your ear, "meet me outside my common room during free period." By the time you turn to look at me, I've continued walking to my table. In the past, most of our interactions happened after nightfall, but I was feeling different today, confident almost. If Pansy didn't like me talking to you, she could bring it up with me, herself.

The first two classes of the day tick by at an agonizing pace. It felt like every fifteen minutes I would check the clock only to see that it had been two. Thankfully, the period had ended and I headed towards the familiar path to the common room. It had been a dull lesson, the continuation of the previous day's lecture on the various types of confundus charms, and how to know which to use depending on the size of the recipient, and how many fingers they had. I think if I had to lose a finger I'd choose my right ring finger, because it wouldn't hinder my ability to make pinky promises or make rude gestures. I know you wouldn't choose that one, though, because that's the finger that you wear your favorite ring on. The silver should make you're skin look even paler but the jewelry just extenuates the divots and curves of your slender fingers. I can't help but notice this is the first time I've ever been able to think about that ring without rolling my eyes.

The corridor outside my common room was pretty empty, seeing as most students were in class. There is no sign of you yet so I decide to sit on the floor and wait. I wonder if you've been having as much trouble in potions as I have. Probably not, you were always so clever in that class, maybe you could help me study. Imagining a nook in the library with a table that is ever-slightly too small for all of our things. Our elbows would touch and we would look up at each other and giggle, but other than that it would be silent. Yes, that would be nice. Another few minutes pass by and I can feel myself begin to grow impatient. Surely you can't still be kissing a teacher's ass? A voice starts coming from around the corner and my head lifts in time to see two fifth year boys walk past, one giving a detailed run down of the most recent quidditch game. I pull a book out of my bag and flip through the pages of muggle poems from my muggle studies class. Stopping every few pages, I find myself enjoying many of them. They are short and concise. I can appreciate their ability to say such grand declarations in so few words. Even the words themselves are mischievous, alone they mean nothing, scenarios of everyday life. However, in context, they dance with others to create metaphors. It was almost how wizard photos would capture a movement, a specific moment, rather than just an image. I come across a single sentence that reads, "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." At first it means nothing. In fact, it takes an entire minute for my mind to drift back to George. I'm almost proud that it takes so long, because I know a few weeks ago my mind would've been occupied before I even read the statement. The time on my watch tells me it has now been an hour since I expected to see you leaning against the very wall my back pressed against now. For a second time I come to a thought that I probably should have come to sooner. You're not coming.

[anbudrky2021]

Ch 5: Three Days

The 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 Sound of 𝒯𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 │ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕆𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟

No smut warning in this one. Next one there will be :) Please click here for series description and TWs. 💕

I woke up to the sound of Nat at my door. She let herself in and sat down comfortably on the edge of my bed. “Hey sleepyhead, you missed breakfast..” she handed me a muffin.

“Oh,” I sat up, groggy and confused. “I must have slept through the alarm,” I noted, looking at my phone.

“That’s ok. Wanda is waiting in the lab with Shuri when you’re ready.” She gave me a kind smile. I smiled back. More tests. Like a lab rat.

“You’re not a rat,” Natasha laughed. “You’re a human going through something strange. We’ll figure it out.”

I laughed as well, “Ok. I am going to get up.” I said, finishing my muffin and moving the bedding. I got up and around, brushing my hair and teeth; I changed into some leggings and a t-shirt. I slid on my sneakers and sighed. “Alright. I’m ready.” I noticed Natasha was looking at her phone, confused. “Everything ok?” I asked observantly.

“Yeah, just a message from Tony I don’t understand.” She rolled her eyes and placed her phone in her pocket.

I bet it’s about Thor’s mission to observe Bucky. I scoffed at my own thought.

“No it’s about something else,” Nat replied, smiling softly.

“I really need to get this fixed,” I groaned.

We reached the lab in time to run into Thor wandering out of the wing. “Ladies,” he nodded his head in politeness, but continued walking without stopping. I blushed.

I counted his steps as he walked away, hoping it would keep me from projecting any thought I might have.

We entered the main area and saw Shuri in another room, through the glass. She waved at us to come to her. We walked together to the room and sat down in the chairs provided.

“So I was up...all night,” she began, looking somewhat exhausted but excited at the same time. “I have some ideas and Wanda volunteered to be like...”

“The control group,” Wanda interjected. I jumped at her voice, not realizing she had been in the room.

“So I am the experimental group?” I said, a little nervous.

“Yes, but you knew that already.” Shuri rolled her eyes and continued. “I have some tests I have already started with Wanda and would like to conduct with you, to see the difference in the firing of neurons, etc.”

“Ok...” I stared at her.

“Basically we’re going to compare her brain activity to yours, since she’s the closest example of someone who can use your same powers.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s another place to start..” she sighed.

I don’t want to be compared to Wanda. I do that myself enough. As soon as I thought it, I regretted it; I didn’t need Wanda and Nat to go on their ‘you’re beautiful as you are’ crusade. But nobody responded. Either I was being ignored or I hadn’t projected.

After about 15 minutes of setting up, a few projections, and some frustration, we were ready to start the first test.

Shuri had created a slideshow of different scenes, people, and words. Each of them had a purpose, according to her, and could hopefully help her figure out triggers or stressors within me and Wanda. Wanda had already completed hers.

“Ready?” Shuri asked. “Remember, some of these may be...upsetting or emotionally jarring. So let me or Nat know if we need to stop.”

Nat was beside me in the room, whereas Wanda and Shuri were on the other side of the glass, next to the computer.

“Ready as ever I guess...” I took a deep breath and watched the screen change.

The first few were almost funny; a cow, a dog, basic things.

The next few were more interesting; the compound, a field, the jet, knives

The knives made me uncomfortable but I tried to stay calm.

“The knives set off a different part of your brain,” Wanda said through the glass. Shuri shot her a look. “I wasn’t supposed to say that; sorry!” Her eyes were wide and animated. She was adorable sometimes.

Scott Lang, Tony, Bruce, T’Challa, Shuri scrolled on the screen, one at a time.

Wanda, Natasha, Clint, Thor

My heart was starting to race and I was not comfortable.

Steve, Pietro, Vis, Bucky

I didn’t move, I didn’t think, I didn’t say anything. Bucky wasn’t on the screen; he was in the next room with Wanda and Shuri.

“Can you leave,” I heard Shuri say, “Thor was looking for you anyway. Go find him.” She wafted him away. He made a point to look at me and smile. I didn’t smile back, only turned my head back to the screen.

Peter

“Can I take a break please?” I asked immediately.

“Uh, sure...” Shuri looked at Nat and nodded. Nat helped me remove the different testing measures and I left the room quickly. I took deep breaths but I felt like I was dying.

Wanda came out of her room and walked toward me. “Hey, you did a great job...” she soothed me, taking me into her arms. “You were so good.” She rocked me a little, allowing for me to calm down more. I was able to take a deep breath and collect myself.

“Sorry. I know the point is to identify brain...stuff...but that was a lot for me.” I shook my head with disappointment in myself.

“It’s understandable, Y/N, you’ve been through a lot and you haven’t necessarily had closure...” she rubbed my arm. “Are you ready to come back?” She pointed at the door.

“Yeah.” I took another breath. Ready to leave is more like it.

“Quitting isn’t an option today,” Wanda retorted.

I laughed but knew she was right.

We did some more tests for a few hours. Some emotional, some physical, some logic-based. By noon, Wanda and I were exhausted in every aspect of the word. Shuri let us leave but Nat stayed behind to help her work on the test results to find any patterns or relevance.

Wanda and I chose to take a walk on the Palace grounds to get some fresh air and sunshine.

“That was...a lot...” she said softly. It was hard on her, too. After losing her brother and her mom and dad... “I didn’t realize how much I missed Pietro..” she sniffled, wiping her face on her sleeve.

“Yeah, it was...” I rubbed her back as we walked.

We walked in silence for a while. We got to see some kids playing, a dog wandering around, and Steve down in a field with Bucky, sparring we supposed.

I did not mention the tight feeling in my chest when I saw Bucky fighting; I just walked and counted my steps.

“Y/N, why have you been projecting numbers?” She asked as we reentered the Palace.

“What?”

“Well it’s always a different pace, but it’s always numbers.” She looked at me quizzically.

“Oh, well I am trying to count footsteps instead of letting my thoughts project. I guess I am projecting the counting...” I laughed a little.

She smiled. “You’re so creative, you know that?” I smiled back at her as we parted ways. I headed for my room.

By dinner time, I was starving. I walked out of my room and headed to the dinning area.

“Y/N, wait up!” Steve called after me. I turned and waited for him. “How did today go?” He asked, thoughtfully.

“It was tough but hopefully worth something.” I gave him a forced smile.

“Bucky told me he walked in on you guys working. He felt bad about it, you know...” he looked at me wearily.

“I don’t care,” I smiled at him, pretending to not care even though I wanted to punch him for mentioning Bucky.

“Hey! Please don’t punch me,” he feigned fright by putting his hands up in surrender.

“Steve. I just-” I inhaled deeply. “I think about Bucky every day. I think about what happened all the time. I don’t want to think about him or it any more than I need to...” I trailed off. “Thank you for relaying that, but I don’t have the capacity to care about what Bucky feels.”

Steve nodded with understanding. “I gotcha.”

We walked into the dining room. Where, of course, Bucky was seated.

Goddamn it. This mother fucker.

Everyone looked at me. I blushed. Of course I projected that. I counted my steps as I walked to my seat, between Steve and Wanda.

Natasha sat across from me, next to Thor and Shuri. Bucky was on the other side of Steve, out of my sight at least.

As I ate, I counted my bites of food. I counted the number of rolls on the table. I counted the number of freckles on Steve’s arm. Anything to distract myself.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. Quit with the counting!” Bucky sat his fork down harshly. “Just tell me what you’re thinking so you don’t have to distract yourself and annoy everyone!” He looked around and past Steve, right at me.

Everyone was staring at us. “Buck, I didn’t hear anything...” Steve whispered to Bucky.

“Neither did I...” Nat interjected.

“So only Bucky heard the projection?” Shuri asked, interested.

“No,” Thor’s voice now echoed above theirs. “I heard it, too. I just assumed everyone did and I’m not as ass.” He glared at Bucky.

I was blushing and completely confused. I stood up and walked off without a word.

I heard large steps behind me but ignored them until my wrist was caught by a large hand.

“Y/N, are you ok? That was futile. Bucky was out of line.” Thor looked concerned.

“I’m fine. Please let me go. I’m just so tired.” I started to tear up. My mind was overwhelmed and my emotions were completely out of sorts. I needed my mommy. Thor let go of my wrist and nodded. “Do you want company? I can sit and talk or-“

“No. Thank you. I just need time. I’m going to go...Um, I’m going visit my mom..” I turned on my heel and left him behind.

I walked for about 30 minutes in one direction before approaching the cemetery. I took a deep breath for calmness and then entered the lot.

I walked among the rows, feeling more and more nauseous the closer I got to her. Finally, I saw her stone.

T’Challa had a special marble figurine commissioned for her. It was on top of her headstone. It was beautiful and exuded her brilliance tenfold. I smiled as I fell to my knees in front of it.

The sobs that left me the moment my knees hit the grass were earth-moving. I could feel my body tensing and writhing as my tears fell. My shoulders heaved with every cry. I slowly drifted closer to the ground until I was laying completely on top of her grave. My tears watered her grass.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I had fallen asleep on my mother’s grave. When I awoke, my head was pounding and my eyes felt like stinging, melting glass shards. I sniffled and sat up, looking around. It was dark. I sighed and looked again at her figurine.

“Mom what do I do? Everything is worse. It’s all getting worse. I’m projecting in the wrong ways or not at all. I feel so exhausted. I’m being triggered by everything. I need you, mom...” I listened to the wind in between the graves and stones. The breeze passing through crevasses.

I laid down on my back and looked up at the sky. It was beautiful. I smiled and remembered a moment with my mom in which we went star grazing in Wakanda. He laughed for hours and had the greatest conversations.

I wish Thor was here. He’d love this. I bet he would say something about the Asgard sky and then horribly describe it. But he’d be smiling and that smile...

I blushed thinking about his smile. But then I caught myself. But what about Peter. I groaned.

I looked more at the stars and continued to fight back and forth between thinking of Thor and Peter. I was so engulfed in my thoughts I didn’t hear the gate to the cemetery open and close.

“Y/n.” Thor voice was soft and respectful.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” I screamed and jolted upright. “You scared me to death!!!” I fell back onto the ground.

He laughed and said “this would be a good place to drop dead..”

I chuckled. “I suppose so...how’d you find me?”

“Earlier you said you were visiting your mom. You’ve been gone for hours...and then...” he looked at me strangely. “I started...seeing what you’re seeing. Like I’m you...” he sat beside me, elbows on his crooked knees.

“And then...Peter called me. He was freaking out asking if you were ok. Because he was seeing the same thing I was...” he looked down at me.

I looked at him, feeling nauseous again. Immediately, without warning I turned my head and vomited just out of moms burial site.

“Woah!” Thor held my hair back and soothed me the best he could. “Are you ok?”

“I-no-I don’t think-“ and I was done. I passed out in Thor’s arms and didn’t wake for three days.

[snidgetwidgeon]

My excitement rivalled Impa’s here when @jabberwockyface brought this scene from my story to life. It is a true delight and I adored the addition of the cuccos!

I have been working on my longfic for quite some time now and was only intending to publish when complete, but this art has me so pumped I thought I’d drop a ‘trailer’ XD

Please enjoy Chapter 1 of Insurrection, a ZeLink story set mainly after the fall of Calamity Ganon

The Horizon

Impa woke early and sighed as she looked up at the large wooden beams in the ceiling of her house. One of the small, lidded lanterns hanging there, usually alight with a soft, golden glow, had gone out during the night. No matter, she thought. An oil refill would just be one of the mundanities to be dealt with over the course of the day. She had always been an early riser, though for the past two decades or so, her aged bladder was demanding she be up at sparrow’s fart to cater to its whims.

She was nestled atop her three red pillows which were stacked like a pyramid. This was where she liked to stay these days, meditating and even sleeping. Her granddaughter, Paya, had long since had the upstairs bedroom to herself.

Rising to stand atop her pillow tower, with quite a few bodily creaks and vocal sound effects, Impa hopped down. She gently removed her large round hat and placed it in the vacated spot, then saw to her ablutions before a morning walk. She poodled around the ground floor of the spacious living quarters, which also doubled as the town hall. Having the largest house in the village was one of the perks of being the Elder. Her seating platform was centrally located toward the rear of the room and looked out across a spacious, open floor plan. Dark blue mats decorated with a diamond pattern sat neatly aligned in rows and served as a comfortable place to sit when village meetings or festive gatherings took place. Her pillow tower looked straight down an aisle, lined with a blue rug, toward large double doors that led outside to the veranda.

Set in a free standing wooden frame behind her perch was a canvas tapestry. Its earthy color palette and tribal art style depicted a very specific history of the Kingdom of Hyrule. There was a large monster embroidered in the center, and it was flanked by what seemed to be a divine person on the left, and a warrior on the right. There were hundreds of machines surrounding them and in each corner were strange animals ridden by pilots of varying races. Due to the nature of the design, it was unclear if they depicted any of the races residing in Hyrule today.

The platform was flanked by two staircases which rose to the back of the house and then turned on ninety degree angles to meet in the middle at the top. To the right and left of her platform on the outside of the stairs were four posts topped with frog guardian statuettes. They bore the red Sheikah symbol on their bellies, an open eye drawn in a minimalist style with a central tear. Various banners and lanterns hung from the rafters, and low shelves lined the walls. Like the other dwellings in Kakariko Village, furnishings and household items were sparse as most Sheikah lived a simple and humble life, free from clutter.

Impa regarded her wide and wrinkly face in the water basin that sat on one of the low shelves. The reflection reminded her of how much time had passed. She splashed the sleep out of her eyes and made her way upstairs to check on Paya, as she did every morning. She favored going up the right staircase, so she could come down the left in a satisfying circle.

Reaching the second floor, she went over to the bed against the back right corner to look upon her sleeping granddaughter. The young woman usually slumbered well into mid-morning as she tended to pray until very late at night. Impa pressed her forehead against Paya’s and their matching, but different colored Sheikah eye tattoos touched. Though she hadn’t meant to cause a stir, Paya yawned and whispered, “Grandmother?”

“Shhh, it’s still very early, dear,” Impa cooed. “Go back to sleep.” She wanted to tell Paya that she stays up much too late praying outside to the village guardians. But she knew the young woman was doing her best to help bring success to their courageous Hero. He needs all the help he can get, she thought earnestly.

Satisfied that all was well with Paya, she headed back down and paused to view the large painting which hung above the low shelves on that side of the house.

The verdant marsh it depicted was spotted with just a few trees and a grey range of hills in the backdrop, topped by fluffy clouds in a blue sky. Toward the rear of the landscape, to the left and right of the center of the canvas, were two weathered stone ruins indicating that this area had not always been a marsh. Spread out in the foreground were some strange looking, bell shaped machines. The one closest to the viewer on the left side of the frame had a single eye-like protrusion in the middle of its bucket-shaped head.

They were all partially sunken into the marsh, becoming overgrown by time. The furthest one had a single, tentacle-like limb sticking out from its wide base, as if it had once been going in that direction. Overall, they seemed oddly out of place- yet also part of the greater scenery. Impa sighed and wondered, like so many times she had sighed in this spot before, if that fateful marsh would ever again reclaim being just a beautiful field.

Time to get moving before breakfast, she decided as she headed for the front door. She had just started to open it before realizing she had forgotten her hat. She tut-tutted herself as she headed back to claim it. One had to look proper if going outside. Her large, straw hat had a very wide and circular red brim which swooped up into a tall metal ornament that brought it to a point. The Sheikah symbol was prominently featured in red on the front. It also had five chains hanging from the brim with axe blade-esque ornaments that swayed metronomically as she walked. Placing her beloved hat on her head, she headed outside.

She was greeted by a bright, blue summer sky and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the golden glow of sunlight spilling over the valley walls. She never tired of this tranquil vista. Tall, steep mountains with weathered, rounded peaks flanked her view to the right. These were aptly named the Pillars of Levia. She followed a flock of ducks with her gaze as they flew over the mountain vale in a perfect v-formation. They passed a lone peak on the left which towered above the forest on the hill behind the village. This small mount had a more flattened mesa at its peak rather than a weathered mound like the others. Another group of birds she couldn’t make out through the bright sunlight swirled around the top.

As she descended her long front steps, she felt content, taking in the sounds and smells of her home. The breeze which blew through the valley from the west carried with it the scent of the grassy slopes and the wooden chimes that were suspended from ropes between posts all around the village, were gently teased into their soft rattle by it. The cuccos added their crow to the morning chorus.

At the base of the steps was a wooden-framed, open gate. She tilted her head slightly to the side so that as she passed under, the ornament of her impressive hat could avoid catching on the three banners hanging there. On either side of the gate were some young plum trees. The lovely white blossoms they produced in spring were something she looked forward to seeing every year. These plum trees, as well as the others scattered around the village, acted as the residents’ protectors, just like the frog statuettes. They also symbolized endurance and prosperity, two values which Impa had instilled in her people for the better part of a century.

She nodded to the guard who kept the late night and early morning watch at her gate. He was adorned in standard Sheikah attire, a pair of beige trousers and a tunic with a high back collar and red trim. A dark blue undershirt could be seen that matched the blue diamond-shaped pattern on his straw hat. His hat was much different than Impa’s in that it appeared to be a woven disc of straw that he folded over his head and strapped under his chin. It also sat prominently forward to allow for his high, white bun to stick out at the back of his head. Some red chopsticks poked stylishly out of the side of his big bun.

Cado returned the nod with a short and respectful bow. “Lady Impa.” He waited for the Village Elder to take several paces before retrieving his quiver from against the gate and followed at a polite, but observant distance. Though her residence was always guarded, he felt he should be extra vigilant about her safety when she ventured out, especially since there had been an unexplained theft not too long ago.

He checked over his gear as he followed Impa through the canyon pass that led north out of the village. On his back he carried a darkwood Phrenic Bow, good for long distance accuracy. On his waist was sheathed an Eightfold Blade, the traditional, single-edged sword of the Sheikah people, and one of the remaining vestiges of their ancient technology. Etched at the blade’s base was the tell-tale eye symbol, believed to offer the user an extra layer of spiritual protection.

Impa walked along at a slow but comfortable pace, enjoying the sound of the breeze whistling through the canyon walls. As she approached a large open gate, one of three marking the entrances to the village, she paused at the sound of a rustle. She looked back at Cado who had drawn nearer, with one hand reaching for the handle of his blade, ready to react to the disturbance.. She merely smiled and shook her head. After taking another step, a lizard dashed out of a tuft of grass and made its escape up the canyon wall.

The north canyon did not lead out of the village as such. After about a ten minute walk, the narrow walls fanned open to a natural platform which offered a scenic, if slightly restricted, view of Hyrule due to the high cliffs on either side. The serenity of this place and the breathtaking view overlooking Hyrule had inspired the community to recognize it as a sacred site. Here they paid their respects at the graves of their loved ones. Unlike Hylian graves, which tended to spread out over an area, the Sheikah piled narrow, upright stones on the left side of the clearing. They were placed without any inclination to create neat rows, and their jumbledness added a certain charm. The only markings were caused by the passage of time, demonstrated by how weathered and overgrown with moss they were.

To the right was a single, large tree, its shade offering a welcome respite to those who visited during the hottest hours of a summer day. Just past the tree stood a simple wooden fence. A precaution for children, or perhaps for those foolish enough to get too close to the drop off overlooking Lake Telta.

At this time of the morning, the sun had yet to reach the clearing, so it was still in the shadow of the cliff walls. Impa slowly shuffled up near the fence, her head bowed in respect as she passed the graves. To offer Impa privacy with her morning prayers, Cado held back just before the canyon opened up.

Goddess Hylia, she prayed, keep Princess Zelda safe within your womb. Lend her your strength so that one day, with the aid of the chosen Hero, she may overcome and banish the Calamity. Even now, as over the course of a century, the Princess was trapped in the castle, bound in an endless battle of wills with the malice of Ganon. Impa would never forget the night the poor young woman had come to the village in ruins.

In those days, she had been assigned as an Adviser to the Royal Family of Hyrule. Her duties in this capacity focused mainly on heading the research into various ancient Sheikah technologies. Her older sister Purah and another scientist, Robbie, ran their own divisions under her guidance. Princess Zelda had eventually joined their ranks as well after she showed a great aptitude for scientific research. During her spare time outside of devotions, she possessed an unrivaled curiosity for a wide array of subjects, which was beneficial to the research teams. Having such a high connection within the Royal Family meant that their work was well funded continuously.

Their efforts were in answer to a prophecy that had been delivered to the Royal Family. It spoke of the revival of a legend known as The Calamity, a primal evil which had risen to plague the land ten thousand years ago. King Rhoam was hoping to use the same means their ancestors had to defend against the possible return of The Calamity. The more they uncovered, the more they realized the legends were true.

Relics, which came to be known as Divine Beasts, were unearthed in various locations across the land. Impa’s teams began an intense study of these artifacts, as well as the many Shrines that dotted all of Hyrule; though they were, as yet, unable to ascertain how to gain access to their inner sanctums. They also uncovered the smaller, autonomous Guardians. Robbie took a great interest in these contraptions and even brought some back to working order.

But Calamity Ganon had outsmarted them.

~~~

As the sun was setting, a young Impa and her team of scientists were concluding their experiments for the day and packing up under the stone pavilion in the castle courtyard. Suddenly, a large rumble echoed around the area, followed by a short earthquake. Everyone fled out from under the roof in case it collapsed but immediately froze in shock upon seeing the castle being engulfed in a swirling pink and black miasma. It circled around and took the shape of a boar-headed demon. A cloud continued erupting into the sky and started to spread, mirroring the overwhelming sense of dread everyone was now feeling. No, we’re not ready!

Before they had time to react, globs of malice erupted from the castle and began to rain down on the ground. The creature roared menacingly to the sky from the epicenter as if to announce its freedom and dominion over all. Impa watched a large glob soar over them like a meteor. She turned northwest to follow its trajectory. Is it possible it was headed for Rito Village?

Someone screamed and she snapped back around to see that the stationary Guardians they had been working with had become active on their own. They were glowing magenta with an evil energy, their heads spinning back and forth as if they were calibrating. Her instincts kicked in and she ordered everyone to grab the most important things. “Take the research! We must get it safely to Kakariko!” At once, people ran in all directions trying to gather their most important work.

Purah ran over to her younger sister and looked at her frantically. “Impa, the Guidance Stone!”

Impa closed her eyes and bowed her head. “We should only save what we can-”

Purah grabbed her arms and Impa looked back up at her in surprise. She was hardly ever so serious. “Anything we take from here will be useless junk unless we have the Guidance Stone to access it. This is not a discussion. It’s a necessity and you know it.”

“Fine. But just us. I’m not risking anyone else going in there.” She looked up towards the high pointed towers of the castle, some now covered in a dark ooze.

“Fine,” Purah acquiesced and started to walk away. “Just us, and Robbie.” Robbie, who had been stuffing schematics into a satchel whipped around at the sound of his name.

Impa grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her back. “What did I just say?!” Suddenly, one of the Guardians stopped spinning its head back and forth and now focused its single blue eye on the Sheikah women, who were too wrapped up in their stare-down to notice.

Robbie paled. “Oh... shit!” They had seconds. His eyes darted around for something, anything... There! A Royal Guard, easily identified by his red tunic under a gold embroidered dark blue tabard, was running their way carrying a large, half-bodied shield.

The Guardian began emitting an ominous beeping noise and a red laser targeted Impa. Robbie pounced on the guard and grabbed his shield away. “Sorry, my man!”

Purah gasped when she saw the red laser on Impa’s shoulder, and utterly terrified, yelled, “Jump back only when I say!”

Impa’s eyes widened in fear as the beeping got faster. Robbie scrambled over to them as the Guardian made a piercing noise, and blue energy shot out of its eye with the intent to destroy. There was a massive ricochet as Robbie parried the energy back at the Guardian with his pilfered shield. Its eerie pink glow fizzled out and it blew to pieces, cogs and gears flying everywhere.

“WOOOOO!” Robbie exclaimed. “Yeah!” He pumped his fists and stretched out a bit. “Man, I saw the Champion do that once and have been wanting to try it ever since.”

Impa, who had ended up huddled on the ground with Purah behind the thrill-seeker, now stood and pulled her sister up as well. “Right, so it’s just us, and Robbie.”

She watched as the rest of the Royal Guard’s unit arrived and set upon the other stationary Guardians before they also had the chance to start working. Robbie returned the shield to the guard he had ambushed and instructed him on the technique to parry the blasts. “The shield should withstand a number of hits this way,” he explained.  

Impa’s mind was a flurry of questions. Was the miasma poisonous? How did it take control of the Guardians? Could they make it to the Guidance Stone?

The Royal Guard unit had now taken out the other three legless Guardians, but she feared it was a small victory. The research team tried to settle now that the immediate danger in the vicinity was over, but every noise set them off, causing them to pause and look around like prey at a watering hole.

She then heard members of the Garrison yelling from the Western Gatehouse, “They’re coming out of the pillars! DOZENS!”, “Hylia above, they’re headed for the town!”

Her stomach flipped over as she thought of those monstrous contraptions overtaken by evil. The very machines that were supposed to protect them were instead destroying everything in their path. All those people...

They had to get out. Now.

Her researchers started to panic after also hearing the desperate cries. She had to focus again, lead them. She addressed them in her authoritative tone, “Everyone, stay calm. We’ll make for the docks. The south exit is... compromised.” Impa looked over to see the Royal Guard leaving to heed the cry from the Western Gatehouse.

“Sir Karane!” she called out. She ran over from under the pavilion to hail the Knight who had just led the assault on the stationary Guardians.

Karane held out an arm to stop her men. When the last one fell into line, she turned a pair of steely blue eyes toward Impa and crossed the same arm over her chest, tilting her head forward in respect. “Adviser.”

Impa regarded the soldiers, some of whom seemed itching to get to the battle. Luckily, she had a better fate in store for them. “The ancient tech research team requires an escort. It’s imperative we get this material safely out of the castle.” Karane spared a glance at the scientists stuffing papers and artifacts into any available containers they could find.

“We have a possible escape route via the docks,” Impa continued. Best case scenario is obtaining some horses and a cart for this gear,” Impa continued.

Sir Karane bowed curtly and then turned sharply to address her unit, her red braid whipping behind her. “You heard her men! We are now on special assignment for the Royal Adviser! Three of you with me,” she gestured to the men on her left. “We’re going to commandeer ourselves a ride. You four, make sure the way is clear to the docks. The rest of you escort our scientists!” She held an arm out to Impa and they clasped each other’s wrists.

“Thank you, Sir Karane.” Robbie and Purah came up beside Impa and she nodded their way to indicate to Karane that they would be working together. “We must retrieve the Guidance Stone. We’ll do our best to meet you there. If these things find you,” she looked towards the felled Guardians, “then leave without us!”

“I’ll give you an hour.”

Impa nodded. “If we don’t make it, there is another stone at the Royal Ancient Lab. I imagine they are doing the same and taking what they can.” She regarded the remaining regiment. “Can you spare your fastest guard from this lot and have them instruct the other team to rendezvous with us in Kakariko?”

“A solid plan, leave it to me.” Karane walked away and yelled, “Konba! I hope you’ve had your rushrooms.”

Impa then left her team in good hands as she went to fetch the Guidance Stone with her sister and Robbie; who was grinning, as he’d acquired himself another shield.

It was a rather large blessing that when they arrived at the docks, the research team was still there, unharmed. It seemed like they got ahead of the Calamity just enough to slip out the back, though the same couldn’t be said for the residents of Castle Town. Impa tried not to think about it as she helped shove the cart with the Stone and its activation pedestal onto the boat.

They made it across the river in the two boats which had been moored at the docks, and battled their way up the sloped bank. The ones who weren’t pushing stared blankly across the river at the scene of destruction unfolding before their eyes. The ones who didn’t want to see busied themselves with helping. Once they reached the grassy Irch Plain, they moved quickly without resting to scale the Elma Knolls. These would at least provide them some cover before heading east. It was unsettling to be so close to a pillar behind the castle, but it appeared that, at least for now, the invasion was focused on Hyrule Field.

After retreating to her village, which was currently safe in the mountains, Impa had sent out a search party for Zelda. She stood in the same spot near the graveyard under the tree, looking in horror at the castle across Hyrule Field. It was still engulfed in a swirling black and magenta miasma. The giant pillars, the existence of which she was aware but had never seen before they had risen out of the ground, were angled toward the castle. They had originally been meant for protection and housed the Guardians that, in the past, defended Hyrule. But all the Guardians had been turned against them, and the pillars were now menacing rather than a comfort. She thought they looked like the fingers of a demon come to enclose the castle in its grasp.

At the base and to the left of the ominous cloud was a wide, orange glow. Castle Town was destroyed; engulfed in flames.

~~~

When Zelda was later escorted into Kakariko, Impa discovered she was there on a mission, and had come bearing a request. She was a bit weak on her feet, but refused rest and clean clothes. Even though she was muddy and her white prayer dress was in tatters, she would not be deterred.

The worst had befallen the Kingdom and she just had one hope: that their Hero would return one day, as she saw when the Master Sword spoke to her. She sat in Impa’s old house at the time, bathed in a soft yellow light from the lanterns. She explained to Impa and the other scientists, her friends, Purah and Robbie, “Link must regain control of the Divine Beasts! Ganon has taken them from us. He controls them now and… and the Champions were… they’re gone.” Her hard stare and exhaustion made it look as if she was going to cry, but at this point she was out of tears, trying desperately to replace them with determination.

Impa felt a weight pool in her gut at the news. So the malice she had seen heading for Rito Village was meant for Vah Medoh, and spelled Champion Revali’s doom. She thought of each Champion, having returned to their Divine Beasts, only to find a deadly trap. She was silent for a moment, unsure; wondering if she should offer comfort or if that would merely be a distraction at this point. Her sister was fiddling with random items she could reach on the table, but rather than be annoyed, she knew it was Purah’s way of dealing with stress.

Zelda then gave a weary sigh and continued. “There’s a chance that Link may not retain some of his memories while in the shrine, so I have an idea of how to help him when he wakes.”

Impa nodded and silently agreed with Zelda’s sentiment. It was when he wakes, she thought, not if he wakes. It was best to be thinking positively in such dire circumstances.

“Purah,” Zelda looked at Impa’s sister, who stopped braiding the frayed threads of the tablecloth as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “I sent the Slate with Link and the Sheikah who found us to the Shrine of Resurrection. He’s going to need it when he awakens.” She paused and then added, “For guidance and access.”

She thought back to her discovery of the towers underground, the existence of which she had not yet been able to discuss with anyone due to trying to keep her research a secret from her father. He would have her only praying to awaken her power, rather than try to help in any other way. So she had been biding her time, not knowing that it would soon run out.

Now, there was only time to act, so she focused on the most important things and didn’t bother to elaborate. Telling Purah and Robbie about the towers was pointless anyway since only Link, as the chosen Hero, would be able to access them.

“I need you to take the contents of the Compendium out of the Slate and keep them in your Guidance Stone. Hopefully the images, or visiting the places where I took the pictures, will help him remember things.”

Purah agreed and nodded, “The Guidance Stone will keep them safe.” She stood from her chair and looked over at Robbie. He seemed to be lost in the shadow of self-loathing, head down and fists clenched at his knees, all previous bravado gone. “Robbie, let’s go see to Link. He’s not going to heal himself.” Robbie looked at Zelda sadly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to. Purah snapped his attention away. “Quick smart!”

They made to leave the house and prepare their things when Zelda called out, “Purah wait! The last picture in the Compendium. Can you delete it but keep a paper copy like the one you made of us before? When the Champions were alive and happy. He should remember that last. It was where he… where I…” She tried, but couldn’t bring herself to talk about what had just happened, “it was where we parted,” she finished, while lowering her eyes in emotional defeat. “I don’t want him to be overwhelmed right after he returns to us.”

Purah blinked her red eyes, suddenly feeling trapped into a sense of responsibility that felt heavier than putting Link into an untested machine. That’s going to be fascinating- Focus Purah!

“I… of course I can make a copy, Princess.” She looked furtively over to Impa. It was one thing for the Guidance Stone to hang onto something in its database, but she, personally? She thought of the state of her workspace at the Royal Ancient Lab, which probably didn’t look so different now that it had most likely been reduced to rubble.

Impa knew her sister well and fought off a massive eye-roll in the presence of the Princess. “Once you are finished in the Shrine, bring me the picture and I will keep it safe for Link,” she offered reassuringly.

Purah visibly relaxed. “Sure thing, Sis.” She prodded Robbie to open the door as he was nearest.

Robbie slid it open and before stepping out, softly spoke to Zelda. “Good luck.” He couldn’t manage much more than that.

Purah looked back at Zelda, looking so small and forlorn, and stuck her chin out with conviction. “Zelly,” she said, “You give that Ganon bastard what for. And don’t get dead!” She followed Robbie out and the room suddenly felt heavier in her absence.

Impa placed her hand on Zelda’s shoulder, and though the young woman was doing everything she could to remain brave and strong, she was shaking. Impa was certain that there was a good amount of fear behind that shaking, but if any part of it was due to lack of nourishment, she wasn’t having it. “Let’s get you something to eat and drink before you go.”

Zelda’s head snapped up. “No, I should leave right away. I’ve already stayed too long. The more time I take, the farther the Guardians can go. They’re laying waste to the Kingdom!”

Impa tutted, “As if I’d let you face Ganon on an empty stomach. What would Sir Link say!?”

~~~

Since that day, Impa prayed for her Princess, overlooking a horizon that never changed. She eventually married, had a child, and then a grandchild. And though her life had known massive loss, and this sacred ground where she stood was for mourning, it was also a place of hope. Hope that one day the Hero would return, and things would change. As more time went by, she became uncertain if she would see Link again. She had started to seriously consider passing Zelda’s message on to Paya should he wake after her death.

But he had come, and with him, an ever-changing vista as he reclaimed the Divine Beasts from Ganon’s control one by one. His successes were revealed to her when she would come out here to pray. The Beasts aimed their divine light as red beams towards the castle from their respective perches across the land, ready to fire when the Hero finally faced his evil foe.

Now there was only one hurdle left, though it was certainly the highest. Before Link was awake, Impa had given most of her prayers to Zelda. But since his return, she prayed for his boundless courage to succeed in the fight against Calamity Ganon. For if he failed, she couldn’t imagine the dark world her granddaughter would inherit.

Impa finished her prayers and raised the brim of her hat to look at the castle on the horizon. She sucked in a breath as she took in a change to the scenery she’d been waiting to see for a hundred years. The cloud of malice had gone. “Eeeeee!” She gave a toothy grin and smacked her thigh.

At the sound of her shriek, Cado rushed over, his weapon drawn. “Lady Impa, what is it!?” She practically barreled past him at top old lady speed, leaving him confused as to where the danger was. He, too, then saw the castle and chin dropped silently agape.

“Cado!” She yelled, while hobbling back to the village. “Get everyone to make preparations. The Princess is coming!”

She rushed toward the house and almost ran over a cucco that unfortunately strutted in front of her gate. It squawked and flapped out of the way at the last second, allowing her to huff up the stairs. Cado, who was following just behind, picked up his panicked cucco and scratched under her wings until the cuddle calmed her down.

“You’re ok, my lovely. The mean old lady was rude, wasn’t she?” He whispered. He waited until Impa was safely inside before walking across the main path to the Inn to inform Ollie to prepare a suitable place for the Hero and the Princess. Lady Impa would want only the very best hospitality that Kakariko could offer.

Ollie blinked as he groggily woke up from sleeping at his desk, and stated, “Hey, no cuccos allowed in the- wait,” he squinted, “a princess is coming?”

Cado lifted an eyebrow and sighed in annoyance. “I’m holding her, she just had a scare.” He stroked the cucco’s tail feathers. “Did you not hear anything I just said?” The Innkeeper just blinked slowly again, so he raised his voice, “The Calamity is gone, Ollie. The Hero was successful, and now Lady Impa is sure that he is to arrive here with the Princess at any moment!”

Ollie now made an ‘O’ of realization with his mouth and gazed off into space. After a moment passed he looked back at Cado. “Well, I’ll be.”

“Yes. So make sure they have every comfort,” Cado repeated as he turned around to make his way back to his post. He paused at the open door and looked back at Ollie, his cucco now tucked under one arm clucking softly. His stern stare implied that he needed affirmation.

“Right, right.” Ollie waved with a dorky half-smile. Cado, now satisfied, slid the door closed behind him. Ollie immediately slouched again. I’ll get to it in a bit, he thought before swiftly falling back asleep. Claree, who ran the tailor shop in town, was convinced he was actually a cat who could shapeshift into a Sheikah because of how often he slept.

As Impa entered the house, she yelled for her granddaughter “Paya! Paya, wake up!”

Paya’s eyes flew open and she kicked her covers off, her feet thumping on the upper level as she rushed to her grandmother’s call. Impa had only made it halfway up the lower steps when she ran into a descending flurry. “Grandmother! What’s wrong?! Are you ok?” Her two red hair bun chopsticks, which she usually forgot to take out before bed, had come loose during sleep and fell out, clattering down the stairs. She paid them no mind as she dropped to her knees in front of the small woman to immediately begin looking for injuries.

Before she had a chance to become too frantic, Impa took Paya’s hands into her own and gave a toothy grin, wherein a gap on the top left added an endearing charm of age. “Be still, child. I’m fine. All of Hyrule will be fine. Our Hero has done it!” She squeezed Paya’s hands in excitement. “Sir Link and Princess Zelda have rid us of The Calamity!”

Paya gasped. She began thinking of so many things at once. Is Link ok? Is the Princess ok? Did her fervent devotion help them even in some small way? How can she help now? “But Grandma, does this mean-?”

“Yes, dear. I think they’re coming.”

“Eeeee,” Paya jumped up suddenly, “I have to clean my room!” She rushed back upstairs and then turned around and came back down to grab her chopsticks. Then she scurried up the stairs again. Impa chuckled as she heard furniture moving and things being tossed around. It was amusing because Paya’s room was already spotless; but yes, a place would need to be made for Zelda. And she would be welcome to stay as long as she’d like.

Impa made her way slowly down the stairs now and back to her pillows. At long last, she thought. Today was certainly no longer mundane. Ah, yes, the oil. “Paya!” She barked as she settled onto the top cushion, “When you’re done up there, one of the lamps needs a refill!” Can’t have the place looking anything but perfect for the Princess.

“Yes, Grandma!” Came the muffled reply.

Impa looked over at the painting on the wall again and thought back to a time when this future was still uncertain.

Link had just returned to her after visiting the place detailed in the frame. He seemed very unsettled and wasn’t his usual self. Or, at least, he was unlike his new self. He was actually emulating his old self quite a bit. Stoic, measured, and a bit guarded. Zelda was right. It would have been too hard for him to remember so much all at once. He now reminded her of how Zelda had been the night she left to face Ganon on her own, trying to be so brave.

“You’re troubled by what you’ve remembered.” She peered at him from her perch in a way that made him feel like she could tell what he was thinking. “You haven’t lost your courage though. So what’s weighing on your mind?”

Link sat on his knees before her on one of the blue mats, free of his gear which he had left leaning by the door. He carefully considered his answer. Looking down at his blue Champion’s tunic, he let out a soft, ironic sniff at how it was the very same he’d worn that terrible night. The night he almost died. It must have either been remade entirely, or so lovingly repaired, that it did not show any of the damage it had once sustained.

His eyes moved over the painting on the wall and he marveled at how a decoration, which before today was so unassuming and almost lost to the background, could now stir so many emotions from one glance. The Guardians in the frame, which were now still and decaying, had been there in the marsh, glowing magenta under Ganon’s control. Hunting them.

As he remembered, he was surprised at the sense of fear that it brought back. In the past few months he had become proficient in fighting all types of Guardians, especially with the ancient weapons that Robbie had since created. But experiencing that night again, hearing the sound of the gears turning, and the thumping of their spidery legs on the ground as they searched for anything and everything to destroy, that really unsettled him. Perhaps because he had failed.

The Chosen Hero had managed to defeat so many of the machines as he and Zelda fled south from the castle; a feat that no other warrior of Hyrule could accomplish. But they never stopped, never tired. They were relentless. And when he had nothing left to give but his very body as a shield, a golden light and a comforting warmth spread over him, and somehow he knew that he was finally free to relax, to let go. Zelda was holding him, and then there was darkness for a century, until her voice reached him, urging him to wake up.

He focused again on Impa, who, in her wisdom, was waiting patiently for his response. He thought the Princess now seemed familiar. But she also still felt like someone he did not know. “I’m just not sure what to do for her if I defeat Ganon.”

“When.” Impa corrected.

Link smirked, “Very well. When.” He couldn't seem to stop the smirk from turning into a genuine smile as he considered her faith in him. He appreciated the interjection of positive thought, even when it was delivered with a bit of sass.

There he is, Impa mused.

“As her sworn Knight Attendant,” she began, then squinted at him and added as an aside, “should you wish to still honor that oath?”

Link nodded his head forward slightly in agreement, so she continued, “Then it would be best to simply follow her wishes.” She paused a moment and, after considering other possible outcomes besides the ideal, mentioned, “Of course, should she be worse for wear, bring her to Kakariko and we will take care of her. At least here she will have someone who knows her if you have not regained your memories by then.”

Link stood and bowed respectfully before taking his leave. He knew that she had not meant the statement to be a slight, but it still stung. Not remembering his past made him feel like he was failing all over again.

[scabopolis]

lv au week, day 3: fairy tales

Title: parry on Fandom: Veronica Mars Rating: PG  Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars Other Characters: An animal that is 100% based on one of my mom’s felines Additional Tags: Absolutely inspired by Tangled, though I do not give Logan luscious magical hair (SPOILER!) Things I googled for this fic: antique jewelry box, what to feed cats in the 1800s, fencing footwork drills Word Count: ~1,950 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard. 

Logan goes through the motions and repeats them, increasing his speed each time. “Again,” he says to himself. 

Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard. Jump forward. Advance lunge. On guard.

Again, and again, and again until his chest is tight with exertion and he is barely capable of lifting his makeshift sword up above his hip line. It is only then he ceases movement. 

Logan drops his weapon to the floor and hinges at the waist, taking deep, slow breaths. He is unsure how long he remains in that position before his cat, a rotund tortoiseshell who simply showed up in his keep one day, winds itself around his ankles. 

Lady Richard looks up at him and lets out a cross between a whimper and a meow. Logan reaches down and scratches the cat behind its ears. 

“Ah, I know what you want.” 

Lady Richard meows again, even more pathetically.

Post-workout, Logan’s sabre has returned to its true form and is a wooden spoon once more. He kicks it out of the way and makes for his small kitchen. His father’s man visited him the day prior (“your father wished to come, truly”) so his larder basket is more than full. 

Once Lady Richard appeared, his father was surprisingly amenable to Logan’s keeping her. Apparently his father did not consider a cat scaling the unsteady ivy outside his window a threat. 

Logan unpacks the cat collops from the larder basket and sinks to the stone floor. Lady Richard invites himself into Logan’s lap.  

“Father approved entrails this week.” Logan scratches Lady Richard under the chin, feeding him the meat pieces from his hand. “He must be in a good mood.”

Once Lady Richard is finished with her meal, she bounces from Logan’s lap and moves over to her favorite cushion of the burnt orange sofa in the corner of the room. Logan reupholstered the sofa himself but, seeing as it was a decision made primarily to irritate his father, he deeply regrets the choice of fabric.

Logan sets himself to preparing his own meal, removing bread, cheese, and some salted meat from the larder basket. He takes a jar of the fig jam he made the previous week down from the kitchen shelf. This batch is considerably better than the past few he has attempted, though it is still not quite right. If only he could ask Lettie, the palace cook, for her advice. On Logan’s more optimistic days, he believes he will one day have the chance to. 

He pours himself a large glass of mead, sinks back down to the floor with food and drink in hand, and then waits. For what, he is never certain. But he has been waiting for something to transpire the more than three years he has lived in this tower. The day Logan stops finding something to hope for will be the day he takes a flying leap from the tower. 

Some hours later (it is hard to say how many — his father did not think a clock necessary for his survival) Logan wakes with a start, laying upon the cold stone floor of the kitchen. He notices the bright light spilling in through the tower window, illuminating most of the room. It must be a full moon. 

At first uncertain as to what caused him to stir, he registers the distinct rustling of ivy outside the tower window. He assumes Lady Richard to be the culprit but that is not possible as the cat is tucked behind Logan’s knees, fast asleep. The rustling persists. 

Logan pushes himself to a seated position (Lady Richard meows in displeasure) and moves to crouch behind the large floral chair that once belonged to his mother. He reasons with himself that it is likely just another cat; possibly a squirrel of some sort. But then there is the darker possibility that his father has determined keeping him alive and hidden is no longer worth the trouble. 

The rustling is even louder now, but it is the sound of metal hitting stone that has all his attention. Logan moves from where he crouches into the kitchen in search of a weapon. Father has left him without knives of any sort, so he settles on the heavy cast iron pan, still soiled with the remnants of breakfast. Rather than return to his original hiding spot, Logan moves on bare feet to the book shelf nearest the window. This position unfortunately obscures his view of the tower window. 

He listens to the repetitive movements outside; metal hitting stone again and again. Eventually the sound stops and Logan is startled by how calm he feels. His father has always been mercurial — it was only a matter of time before he decided a dead prince was preferable to a hidden one. 

The assassin grunts as they first swing one leg and then the other over the window ledge; their heavy boots hitting the stone. They don’t seem concerned with keeping quiet, which is strange. Rather than head immediately for the stairs, and thus his room, the assassin sounds as if they are moving towards the main room. 

“What is this place?”

Logan freezes in place at the assassin’s quiet voice. A woman? He was not expecting a woman. She moves further into the room, her back to Logan. He especially did not expect a woman who appears to be a foot shorter than him. The woman continues her exploration of the tower, her head turning this way and that, when her eyes settle on the engraved silver jewelry box set upon the fireplace mantle. He watches as she picks up the jewelry box, inspects it for a moment, and then tucks it into her satchel. She helps herself also to a pair of candlesticks and his pocket compass. 

Not quite an assassin, then.

Lady Richard makes herself known by flopping backwards onto the thief’s boot, feet up in the air in invitation. The thief laughs quietly and leans down to scratch the cat’s stomach. “You’re a well-fed thing,” she says. “Where is your owner?” 

And Logan would much rather take someone by surprise than be surprised, so he seizes that moment to step out of the shadow. 

“Right here,” he says. 

In one quick action, the woman reels around to face Logan, a knife he was unaware she wielded clutched tight in her hand. Logan holds up the frying pan. It distracts her for a moment, but only just.  

“Who are you?” the woman asks. 

“Who are you?” 

“I believe I asked first.” 

“You are the intruder, which I think places the burden of answering questions firmly upon your shoulders.”

“You live here?” 

“Clearly. Shall I repeat my original question: who are you?” 

She hesitates. “My horse threw me off a few miles from here. I was looking for assistance.” 

“Is that so?”

“You do not believe me?” 

“I do not. But I also do not believe you are here to kill me, so that is something.” 

“Why would I kill you?” 

“Why, indeed.”

“I suppose you saw me steal your jewelry box.” 

“I did. The candlesticks, too.” 

“And you are okay with this?” 

“No, and I do expect their return, but you have bigger concerns.” 

“What concerns?” 

“Successfully leaving this place alive, for one.” 

The woman tenses and she takes a step back. Lady Richard follows, batting at the thief’s boot. “You intend to kill me.” 

“No. I do not. But I am afraid you stormed the wrong tower.” 

She narrows her eyes. “Who are you, exactly?” 

This evening, when Logan sat on that cold stone floor to eat his supper, he had no way of knowing what he was waiting for. Seeing this woman now — this woman who boldly brandishes a knife at him and speaks without fear while so clearly being in the wrong — he makes a decision. 

“Perhaps you should look at that jewelry box once more.” 

The woman manages to fish out the silver box while still keeping the knife steady and directed at Logan. The top of the box is engraved with a scene of a pond and the requisite flora surrounding it. There’s no way for this woman to know the etching is a perfect rendering of the large pond on the palace grounds. 

It is the name engraved upon the box which can hardly escape her notice: Her Majesty, The Queen, Lynette II

“You are a thief, as well?” she asks, though she sounds doubtful. 

“I am not.” 

“Then how—?”

“The queen is—,” he clears his throat, “—was quite dear to me.”

“How did you know the queen?” 

Logan remains silent. 

Her eyes return to the box, her thumb tracing over the engraving. She looks back up at him and, perhaps it is the remnants of a long-faded instinct, but Logan draws himself up straight for her inspection. That is when his identity appears to be clear to her. 

“It cannot—,” she begins, haltingly. He nods. “Are you the lost prince?”

Logan sighs and lowers the frying pan. Lady Richard accepts it as an invitation and comes over to lick bacon grease from the cast iron. “The lost prince? Is that what they call me?” 

“Most of the kingdom believes you dead. Your father increases the reward for your return each year.” 

He laughs. “I am sorry, but all my return would garner you is your death.” 

“Why is that?” 

“Because your good king, my father, does not want me to be found as he is the one who entrapped me here.”

She loses her grip on the jewelry box, but manages to recover the object. Her knife, on the other hand, clatters to the ground. She does not pick it up.

“Is this true?”

“What is more, I believe as soon as my step-mother produces an heir, I will truly be expendable.” 

“Why tell me this?”

Logan twirls the frying pan in his hand and sends spatters of cooled bacon grease flying. “As I see it we have two options and limited time to decide: one, you leave me here, and you worry that one of my father’s spies has witnessed your departure and will thus murder you.” 

“Option two?” 

“Option two is far less likely to succeed.” 

He pauses for dramatic effect and she rolls her eyes. “Do go on.”

“Option two, you help me escape, I take my rightful place as ruler, and you will earn far more than any reward my father could offer.”

“What makes you think I can help you?” 

“Something tells me a woman who just happened to have the means to scale a 60 foot tower in her satchel has the means to do much more.” 

This is already more fun than Logan has had in close to a decade. 

“What should I call you?” she asks. “Because I refuse to call you highness.” 

“Logan will do. Shall I call you thief?” 

She picks up her knife, sheathes it, and extends her hand. He grips hers in return and is overcome by the fact it has been years since he has touched another person. 

“Veronica. Mars. And I prefer the term master thief.” Veronica looks down at Lady Richard as she intently licks a spot of grease off her boot. “The cat?” 

“The cat comes. Her name is Lady Richard.” 

“What say you, Lady Richard,” Veronica says, “ready for an adventure?”