#tried to drink out of a glass of water (broke it and spilled water everywhere)

[rulesforthedance]

Problem child. Biting my sheet music.

[ashthesalamipiece]

Can you make a fanfic that Reader is married to Bakugo and that she's pregnant. And that bakugo's parents are going to sleep over for the past next days due to the due date being so close. Bit midway the dinner, her water breaks. Or that in the middle of the night she gets up to get a glass of water because she's thirsty, and Mitsuki walks down a bit after her. And scares Reader, making her drop the glass of water to the ground. And it makes it look like her water broke, but it didn't. And then like 2 minutes after the rest of them come downstairs due to the noise, and think that her water broke, but Mitsuki reassures them that reader just dropped a glass of water, But then Just as she says "Water" Reader's water actually breaks.

Water, Water Everywhere

It was a peaceful evening at the Bakugo household. The warm glow of the kitchen lights illuminated the room where Bakugo and his wife, the reader, sat with his parents. The two had invited Mitsuki and Masaru over for the night—mostly because the due date for their first child was fast approaching. Bakugo wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type, but he was fiercely protective of his wife and wanted to ensure she had all the support she could get, even if it meant tolerating his parents' presence for a few days.

Reader was sitting comfortably beside Bakugo, resting her hand on her growing belly. The baby kicked gently as she absentmindedly traced circles on her bump. She couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed; the due date was coming closer and closer, and it seemed like everyone around her was holding their breath in anticipation.

“Do you need anything, sweetie?” Mitsuki’s voice cut through the air like the comforting warmth of tea. She was a little too excited about the upcoming birth.

“I’m good, just a little tired.” Reader smiled at her, the exhaustion clear in her eyes but her tone light.

Mitsuki’s eyes softened with sympathy, but she quickly pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and set it down in front of Reader. “Stay hydrated, my dear. It’s important.”

"Yeah, don't make me worry," Bakugo grumbled from his seat across from them. "I swear, if anything happens to you, I’ll—"

“Don’t finish that sentence, Katsuki,” Mitsuki interrupted, rolling her eyes as she gently swatted her son’s arm.

They all chuckled, and the evening continued on, filled with lighthearted conversations and the gentle clink of plates and silverware. But as the night wore on, Reader's fatigue began to catch up with her. She stood up slowly, excusing herself as she made her way toward the kitchen. She was parched. The baby was pressing against her stomach in a way that made her feel like she couldn’t drink enough water.

She quietly filled a glass and took a long sip, leaning against the counter for a moment as she tried to steady herself. Her body was heavy, and the baby’s movements felt more intense than usual. Just as she was about to turn around, she heard soft footsteps coming from behind her.

Startled, she spun around, the glass of water slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor.

"Ah!" she yelped, hands flying to her mouth in surprise.

Mitsuki, who had entered the kitchen right behind her, blinked in confusion. She hadn’t expected to see her daughter-in-law quite so jumpy. “Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

The crash had been loud enough to stir everyone else upstairs, and within moments, Bakugo and his father appeared at the doorway of the kitchen.

“What the hell was that noise?” Bakugo growled, his voice sharp and full of concern. His eyes landed on the glass shards and the spilled water, and his posture immediately tensed. “Did… did your water break?”

Reader froze, her hand still clutching her chest as she stared at the mess on the floor. “I… I don’t think so. It’s just water.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just—” Masaru started, but Mitsuki held up a hand, cutting him off.

“Calm down,” she said, her voice reassuring but firm. “She just dropped the glass. Nothing to worry about. Right, dear?”

Reader nodded, though a small part of her felt a tiny pang of doubt. Had she actually felt something else? Was it possible?

But as Mitsuki opened her mouth to finish her explanation, Reader’s body tensed up again, and the unmistakable warmth of amniotic fluid began to trickle down her legs.

Mitsuki’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh my god… Did you just—?”

Before anyone could react, Bakugo’s eyes snapped to his wife’s face, then quickly down to her legs. His expression was a mixture of panic and disbelief. “You—your water just broke!” His voice cracked slightly, and it was the first time she’d ever heard him sound genuinely concerned.

“I... I think it did,” Reader said with a shaky breath, her voice betraying her calm exterior.

“Okay, okay,” Mitsuki said, suddenly all business. “Don’t panic. We need to get you to the hospital. Right now.”

Bakugo immediately rushed to his wife’s side, lifting her into his arms with ease. His usual tough exterior was momentarily cracked as he whispered against her ear, “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Masaru, who was just trying to keep up with the situation, turned to his wife, looking both panicked and impressed. “This is really happening, huh?”

Mitsuki chuckled softly. “Don’t just stand there, Masaru! Get the bags ready, we’re going to be grandparents soon!”

As the chaos unfolded, Reader couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “Well… I guess we don’t need a dramatic entrance after all.”

And with that, Bakugo rushed his wife toward the door, eager to finally meet their baby—though he was pretty sure he was going to need a lot of coffee to survive the night.

[zmediaoutlet]

soon or never

for @wincestwednesdays - choices

A hand on Sam's shoulder. Hard at first, making him jerk like waking up from a coma, and then softer. "Hey, hey." He blinks, sniffs, wipes his own hand hard over his face. Takes a few seconds to see: the sun sliding toward setting, over a long low motel, with a nearly-empty lot, in which the Impala's parked in front of room number eleven, the engine off and Sam pulled out of a dead sleep with Dean, yes, still holding his shoulder. Warm through his spare jacket.

"Where," he says. Croaks. Jeez.

"Boise," Dean says, and Sam frowns. That's—three hours from Grangeville, the way Dean drives. He thought they'd be a lot closer to home before they stopped for the night. He squints over the seat and Dean's mouth goes thin, and then he shrugs, and takes his hand off Sam's shoulder. "You were moaning in your sleep. Not the fun kind."

Room eleven is blue carpet, blue thick curtains, blue blankets on the two queen beds. Two. Sam's still kind of dizzy. Not enough sleep and too much bloodloss. Dean brings in all the bags himself, moving around where Sam's pinned in the entryway, and then he says, "You planning on taking up work as the human statue?" and so Sam moves—to the table, with its blue-upholstered chair. He tries not to flinch when he sits but that's a lost cause. He keeps holding the bandage on his side. Even with all the stitches it feels like his guts might just spill out, everywhere. Ruin all this blue.

"Dude, you are out of it," Dean says. A thin kind of jocular. Somehow when Sam wasn't paying attention he lost his jacket, his boots. Rolling up his bright-red sleeves. "You getting your weird antibiotic thing again?"

Could be. A little dizzy, a little off. His stomach warm, partway to queasy. There's a hole in it, so. Queasy isn't so bad, as these things go. "Guess that means you're not gonna want the hot & sour I just ordered, huh," Dean says. Sam wrinkles his nose and Dean huffs. "You're gonna have to use your words at some point, buddy-boy."

"I'm not your buddy, pal," Sam says. Throat crackly again but he tries to smile.

"I'm not your pal, champ," Dean says, eyes crinkling at the corners, but he's hardly smiling at all.

Dean brings Sam a glass of cool water from the tap. Sam sips, careful. He's watched for a second, for what Sam doesn't know—in case the glass explodes and cuts him to ribbons, in case he chokes on water and suffocates on dry land—but then Dean seems satisfied that he won't immediately expire and goes to dig in his bag, set on the bed closer to the door. The room full of light, suffusing gold against the sea of blue, and it's good just to sit and look at his brother. The tips of his hair backlit amber. That red shirt, which somehow escaped the day without bloodstains. His square capable hands, tugging out pajama pants, and his forearms ringed in bruises, and his face the familiar set of—just getting to the next thing, and the next thing after that. Like if he sits down he won't ever get up.

"Why am I always the one getting hurt?" Sam says. Dean jerks. "Hole in my gut, last night. My arm, last year. Basically in a coma the year before that. When's it your turn?"

Dean leans one thigh against the bed, pajama pants held up against his stomach. After a second just looking at his bag, he says: "Broke my leg, back when that Levi nearly caught us at Bobby's."

"That when I went into a coma the first time?" Sam says, bright, and Dean snorts and says, "Don't think that was the first time, Sammy," but he says it a little more relaxed.

The water did help, and the sitting up in the light, and just—Dean. Here, and not somewhere with a monster where Sam didn't know what he was doing. If he was okay. Sam takes another moment to drink him in, until Dean finally looks up from his bag and meets his eyes, and Sam smiles again and Dean—Sam doesn't know what that expression is, but Dean's here instead of in some black pit in his head and so that's good enough for Sam.

It's hard to take his jacket off sitting down, strains his gut. "Don't pull your stitches," Dean says. "Hey, don't roll your eyes. That's some high quality fake insurance paying for those stitches."

"Doctor would've done it for free," Sam says. A grunt. He gets free of the second sleeve and drops it on the table. Boots then, but—

"Oh, this is pathetic," Dean says, but soft, and Sam stops toeing at the heel when Dean's suddenly there, on his knees on the blue carpet. His hand sure, dragging down the back of Sam's calf, and Sam picks his foot up obediently when Dean taps the heel and lets Dean tug it off. He makes a face and—yeah, that's not great. He sets the one boot down, though, and Sam gives him the other foot and Dean pulls him clear, and then just—holds Sam's foot, braced against his thigh. Fine with Sam, who wiggles his toes inside his socks. "Don't try to fumigate the room, man," Dean says, nose wrinkled. "Swear, you could've just waved these things at the werewolves and they woulda gone down, quick."

"You love it," Sam says. Dean licks his lips, and presses them together. His eyes some other place.

Dean's fingers flex around his ankle. Sam presses down with his toes, rocks a little, and when Dean looks up Sam raises his eyebrows. Dean shakes his head, but he slides his hands up Sam's shin, and then go around the back of his knee, up the back of his thigh. Squeeze there, hard. Hard enough it hurts, but then the muscle shocks into softness, and Sam sighs, and so then back down to his calf, Dean's fingers moving in hard firm circles. To the tendons in his ankle, squeezing, so that Sam scoots down further into the chair, his body turning slowly to jelly. "Oh, yeah?" Dean says, quiet, and picks up Sam's other foot to set on his other thigh, and repeats the whole process—not making it sleazy, or like he's trying to get Sam going, but just—making all the parts of Sam that are sore as hell after nearly two days in the dark hunted woods back into something that feels like his again. Or like Dean's again. Hard to tell anymore where the line between those lies. These days Sam isn't looking that hard.

When Dean's finished with the left leg he slides his hand back up Sam's calf, hooking there behind his knee. Quiet on his knees, and quiet in the room, too. Not even the sound of traffic outside. Just the two of them breathing, in all this blue. Dean's bruised forearms, and his throat ringed in murky purple, too, and dark under his eyes. The doctor, after stitching up the bullet hole but before she gave Sam the bottle of antibiotics, telling him to look out for his brother.

He lets his feet slide off to the outside of Dean's thighs, and reaches out a hand. Dean ignores it but lifts up on his knees, between Sam's legs, and Sam touches the corner of his scabbed eye and his jaw with too-thick stubble and drags a thumb down the column of his throat. Feels how it bobs. Waits, then, relaxed in the chair, while Dean unbuttons his flannel shirt, and lifts his undershirt, and touches the bandage. Running his fingers along the tape.

"Gonna rip some hair out when we gotta change that," Dean says. His eyes tight at the corners. "Free wax day at the spa."

"Lucky me," Sam says, dry, and watches the air go out of Dean.

He could ask. Right now, he could ask and he'd get the truth. Only—what's the point of asking a question you already know the answer to?

"Hey, Dean," he says, soft. Dean's eyes meet his. Everything in them, unsaid. Sam smiles, small. "When we get home, am I getting another massage?"

Dean scoffs. Stands up using Sam's thighs to brace—"Oof," Sam says, gamely—and Dean says, "You're gonna be lucky to get any at all, if you don't shower off all that werewolf stank." Sam smiles bigger and Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh, yeah, you're adorable."

A knock on the motel room door, then—the Chinese delivery—and before Dean goes Sam catches his forearm, squeezes. Dean takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he says, quiet.

Sam watches him take the delivery, tip the kid in cash. The room filling immediately with the smell of fried wontons because Dean always asks for a triple serving. "You eating, or what?" Dean says, dumping the bags on the table, and Sam sits up straight, ignoring the strain on his gut. "I'm eating," he says, and Dean sets the carton of soup firmly in front of him, and Sam thinks—if he hadn't made it back in time—

But he did, and Dean's alive and sitting here, bitching about how they put in way more broccoli than beef, so there's no more call to think about it. He eats his soup, and steals Dean's wontons.

[r0-boat]

A little bit of Holt-ery

Tldr: Holt has Butterfingers and dropped strong aphrodisiac, you just so happened to be in the kitchen with him

Fine you get some Holt

Gn!reader afab

CW:dub-con, boss/employee fuck

"Fuck!" He lets out, looking at the shattered vile on the floor. Strong-grade aphrodisiac, supposed to be for the Bulls for their breeding season( he was going to sneak a drop or two in your drink, you know, something to get you ready for the day) but now here was expensive stuff all over the floor wasted...

Even from this small vile, the scent coming off of it was intense. An overly sweet smell invaded his nostrils. Holt has always had a powerful sense of smell, making his eyes water. Putting his arm over his nose, he goes over to the counter to reach for a paper towel. Holt felt a tingle going across his body, feeling a low heat beginning in his core.

'Come on Holt pull yourself together just reach over and grab a towel and wipe it up'

But his body wouldn't want to move. His mind with melting, still focused on the growing sensation inside of him.

"Boss, I heard a yell. Are you okay?" Oh God, why you or anyone but you... how his title stray from your lips went straight to his lions.

His pants grew tighter and tighter. When he sees you walking to the room, the kitchen is filled with the sweet solid smell, immediately invading your nose. "Holt, I didn't know you liked to bake." You said, inhaling more of the sweet scent. Shaddap, I wasn't bake'n and cover your nose." Confused, you asked why quickly getting a rise out of him " when I say do something, you do it! Don't argue with me. I spilled an expensive aphrodisiac everywhere; the smell alone we can set you off" your eyes widen, doing what he says. Holt kept his back to you, not wanting you to see the obvious tent in his pant. His brown eyes kept darting at you, stealing glances and watching you pick up the pieces of glass. Have you always looked so...cute?

Holt, not moving from his position, reaches for a towel, and throws it to you.

Fuck. It was starting to get too hot to be in these clothes. Everything felt so sensitive, and he was practically sweating. All you did was put a towel on the ground while the aphrodisiac was already at work. The smell of your arousal was evident to Holt. Damn it; you can't go out to work like this!

You wanted to leave the kitchen and lock yourself in your room but you found yourself standing still, staring right it your boss. Your tall, strong, and... handsome boss. With well-kept dark red hair, that you've always wanted to play with it. He smelled of old leather, whiskey, and cologne, a scent that was driving you up the wall.

Your mind was cloudy, eyes filled with nothing but lust. Your mind kept wandering back to him, no matter how much you tried to divert it. Your breath was heavy and shaky remembering when you and Holt were visiting one of the neighbors, and one of their bulls broke out angrily bucking, in a blind rage to charge at you.

Only for Holt to run across the field, grabbing the bull by the horns and slamming him to the ground with all his strength.

The heat was getting unbearable, and the smell of the tantalizing farmhand made him practically drool. He also wanted to leave the kitchen, lock himself in his room, and fist his cock for the rest of the day. But your arousal smells so good; you smell good, you look good... desperate for any sort of release from his restraining clothes, he unbuttons his polo shirt, unbuttoning and zipping down his fly.

You couldn't take it anymore "H-holt please..."

His breath hatched, he hasn't heard you whine like that ever since how to walk too close to the barn and heard you're whimpering cries as a bull bullied his cock into your thight hole. It was a memory he had to scrub out of his brain because he couldn't stop thinking about it. You look so submissive under that hybrid. So... Cute...

"...damn it..."

To cast under his breath before you could react, he turned himself around and pounced on you, his lips on yours instantly. Quickly melting into the kiss, you enjoyed the sweet taste of lingering tobacco and syrup as your tongue danced with his. His brown eyes, and pupils blow bore into yours as he backs you into the wall trapping you between his muscular body kitchen wall. He goes in for another kiss grinding himself against your thigh and moaning when you lift your leg up. The kiss grew hotter before Holt pulled away to catch his breath, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

"Fucking tease, your a tease..." He growls using one hand to pull down his pants and boxers finally freeing his big fat cock, tip red and leaking. You practically drooled at the side of it, wanting nothing more than his cock inside of you. You wasted no time pulling off your pants and underwear completely. Holt's eyes lit up when he saw you practically dripping for him. You lift yourself up as you subconsciously wrap your legs around him for support Holt nuzzles himself in your neck, giving you soft kisses. Holt was so gentle with you at this moment it made your heart flutter seeing this side of him

" There we go, precious, you're so precious to me ~" he murmured, enjoying the feeling of his shaft rubbing against your lips, the head of his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, and the heat of your tight velvet walls making his cock pulse.

There were so many things holt wanted to do to you. He has always wanted to eat out that pretty cunt of yours. Make you cum on his tongue. Make you scream louder than any bull on this Farm has. Make you his mate and bite down into your shoulder and Mark you for weeks. But he needed to be inside of you; holt never wanted anything more.

" Putting it in now sweetness, if it's too big for you just tell me~" he Chuckles, you couldn't help but smile. Even now he can be so annoying.

Holt sucked in the air through his teeth as the head of his cock Spears you open, not even halfway in, and your pussy barrels down on his cock. He was so big; your legs shook as he sunk himself deeper, whimpering." relax darl'n, just relax and let me in" Holt purred

Damn it, his voice was rugged yet smooth, and his slight Southern drawl made you swoon. Holt cussed under his breath as his cock is buried inside you to the hilt. You knew your boss always had a more softer side but experiencing it in person was almost uncanny, but you can't say you don't like it. You can feel his fingers grip you harder with every slight movement you make but you couldn't help it. He filled you so full. And every time he ground it against you, you just wanted more.

" can't hold on anymore" your eyes roll back Hour immediately sets his own pace pounding you against the wall. Balls slapped against your ass as the kitchen and dining room were filled with Holt's loud moans. He had no restraint, fucking you as hard or as fast as he wanted and being as loud as you wanted. Hearing him becoming so disheveled went straight to your cunt clenching around him.

"Oh! Fuck yes! Milk me!" He growls, lifting your legs up more to get a better angle, the tip of his cock hitting against the spot that made you see stars. You try your best to fuck him back. Only for Holt to overpower you completely, pounding you harder and deeper losing any rhythm in his hips that he had left favoring more animalistic and wild thrusts.

Your arms rake at his back, nails digging into his clothes, trying desperately to grab onto them. His cock was so big, and his face was so fast and deep that you started to tear up in pure pleasure as you came closer to your orgasm.

Holt had a prideful on his face knowing that his cock was giving you more pleasure than any other Bull on the farm could. " you're close; I can feel it cum for me; obey my word and cum for me!"

Holt's demands hits you like an unbearable heat scorching in your core, finally snapping, squeezing his cock for all his worth while you cream. Your boss fuck you through your orgasm before he came over that edge tilting his bed head back with a howl. He paints your walls with white with each pump of cum.

The effects of the aphrodisiac begin to dull Holt. Realizing what he has done, he gently tries to put your own, but your legs are still jelly, so he holds on to you, making his way to the couch before setting you down; you are still in the Afterglow a seed of guilt begins to grow inside of you after realizing what happened. " let's not speak of this" Holt grumbles ignoring the fact that he already misses your tight cunt. Tired, you just nod in agreement, already missing his light soft touches and fat cock pounding away.

[i-write-some-stuff]

Overwhelmed - nyt

Pairing: Yuta x gn/enby OC (Kye) Contents: When the party gets too rowdy, Kye thought they had escaped the others by getting outside. They thought wrong. Warnings: overwhelmed oc, weed consuption, beer drinking Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Alright so I hated the original one so I took it down and rewrote it. I think this one is much better and I hope you guys like it too! Also I know I promised a masterpost for this series, it's coming, things just got out of hand lately but we're (hopefully) back on track

*This is purely a work of fiction. It is in no way meant to represent any idol in any way, shape or form.

Voices became louder, and Kye turned around, trying to see what was going on. Johnny was nowhere to be found, and Haechan and Mark had run off who knows where, leaving Kye alone with their thoughts in the middle of the very crowded living room. Doing their best to not bump into everyone, Kye tried to make their way out of the crowd and into the kitchen, where they figured they could have a moment for themself. Everyone else seemed to be going the opposite way, trying to peak at whatever was happening over there. Mumbling ‘sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s, Kye pushed through, ignoring as much as they could the loud and repetitive beat of the music.

A glass bottle broke, startling Kye, who spun around, spilling their drink all over someone’s shoes. Apologizing profusely, Kye kept backing up, abandoning the empty cup on their way. With the kitchen finally in sight, Kye cursed, seeing that it was just as crowded as everywhere else. The backdoor seemed like their best bet. When they got outside, they threw themself against the wall, out of breath.

“Kye? You alright?” Turning towards the voice, Kye saw Yuta, sitting on the concrete bench a bit further from the door. Kye nodded.

“In a minute,” they mumbled, but Yuta seemed to hear, since he didn’t push further. Closing their eyes, Kye tried to focus on their breathing.

If they were completly honest, Kye would have wanted any other frat brother out there right now. They didn’t have anything against Yuta, but they found him slightly intimidating. They had never really talked either, as Yuta was usually at work whenever Kye and Johnny met to work on their project. They were surprised Yuta even knew their name, given that the both of them had barely ever talked.

“Are you gonna be sick?" Yuta asked, and Kye shook their head. "You should probably sit down, then," he replied, patting the seat next to him. "I don't bite," he added, and Kye smiled, giving in.They went to sit with him, and he leaned back against the wall, bringing a joint to his lips. He really was beautiful, Kye thought. In the dim light from the patio's string lights, he looked like he was straight out of a movie. After all, his nickname was the Prince, and Kye thought whoever gave him that nickname were very right. Yuta glanced at them, and Kye looked away, feeling the heat burn their face. Fortunately for them, Yuta misread their reaction.

“Want a smoke?” He asked, stretching his arm towards them.

“Thanks,” Kye replied, taking a long drag, then very slowly blowing it out.

“Someone’s used to this,” Yuta joked.

“It’s one of the few things that help my overthinking brain to shut up sometimes,” Kye explained, and Yuta nodded.

“I get that. Do you feel better now, though? I can go and get you water."

“No, no, I’m good,” Kye paused, “and honestly… I’d rather not be alone right now. If you don’t mind,” Kye said quietly.

“I shall not leave your side, then,” Yuta said, and Kye smiled.

They sat in silence for a moment, the joint going back and forth between them. Yuta noticed how Kye was fidgeting with a strand of their ripped jeans, and Yuta handed them the joint again, then took off one of his necklaces, letting it dangle in front of Kye. It was a simple chain with a small feather carved in a black stone. Kye gave him a questioning look. “To play with. In stead of destroying your jeans. And your skin,” he said, noticing the raw skin around Key’s nails. Kye hesitantly took the necklace, running their fingers along the feather. It felt cool and soft, and their focus fully on the piece of jewelry for a moment, examining every side and smooth curve on the little object. Yuta watched them, a fond smile on his lips.

“Do you like it?” He asked, and Kye nodded. He thought they looked very cute, staring at his necklace as if it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, analyzing every single part of it. He almost let himself tell them to keep it, but he cleared his throat instead. “So what was happening back there?”

“No idea. Everyone got loud and started pushing around to get a better view so I just dipped,” Kye explained.

“Hmm. Probably just Haechan doing a keg stand or something.”

“That would add up, yeah,” Kye laughed. “What are you doing smoking all alone out here?”

“Couldn’t find anyone to come with me.”

“In a frat house full of partying uni students? Yeah right." A beat passed. "You didn’t ask me,” Kye stated, eyes glued to the feather.

“I didn’t know you smoke. In fact, I don’t know you at all. Other than your name, of course.”

“What do you mean you don’t know me? We see each other all the time!” Kye said, falsely offended.

“Yeah, like half a second.”

“That’s on you, really,” Kye said, and Yuta laughed, happy to see them more comfortable.

“Hey, I don’t choose my hours. If anything, you should plan your visits around my schedule.”

“I don’t know your schedule.”

“I can text it to you.”

“Smooth. Do you always get people's numbers like that?” Kye asked, finally looking up from the feather to look at him.

“First time, actually. Did it work?” They stared at each other for a second, then Kye sighed.

“Gimme your phone before I change my mind,” Kye said. Yuta had a cocky smirk, handing it to them.

The back door opened rather violently, and Kye jumped at the sudden snap, instinctively scooting closer to Yuta. His arm went across them, hand falling on their thigh in a protective stance as they both checked to see who was coming out.

An angry Jaehyun made his way through the yard, Jamie not far behind him, calling out his name. Yuta and Kye shared a look, Yuta noticing his position and moving his hand away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay-“

“Leave them alone for once, will you?” Johnny’s voice caught their attention, and they saw him holding Haechan back, keeping him from running after the two others. Haechan turned around to protest, but his eyes fell on Yuta and Kye, and his target suddenly changed.

“Since when do you two know each other?”

“They’re a regular at the cafe,” Yuta lied right away, and Kye nodded. Kye shared a look with Johnny, who knew that was a lie, but strangely refrained from commenting. His eyes fell on Kye’s lap, where the feather necklace and Yuta’s phone now laid, and he smirked.

“Come on,” he told Haechan, dragging the younger boy back inside. Poking his head out the door, he added “They’ve calmed down, by the way.” Kye smiled, thanking Johnny as he disappeared, yelling some non-sense as he did.

“Do you wanna go back inside?” Yuta asked, and Kye took a deep breath.

“I’ll stay a little longer. But you don’t have to wait for me,” Kye said, handing Yuta his phone back.

“I’m good,” he said, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. A few minutes later, a sort of chant rose from inside, and Yuta sighed.

“See, this time it’s really Haechan doing a keg stand,” he said, and Kye laughed, mindlessly playing with the feather in their lap.

[suguruverse]

OKAY I HAVE AN IDEA! can you do a scenario with tsukishima, yamaguchi, kageyama, and kuroo where their gf is wearing a tank top and you can like see her cleavage? like she grabs something and his face just accidentally goes right between her tits LMAOOOOO

✿ haikyuu boys when their gf’s tiddies accidentally get in their face

includes - tsukishima kei, yamaguchi tadashi, kageyama tobio

a/n - OMG THIS REMINDED ME OF THAT ONE OHSHC SCENE WITH HIKARU AND HARUHI SO I HAD TO WRITE THIS!! also my new character limit of hcs is 3 so you’re more than welcome to request again with kuroo!! thank you for understanding <33

↳ TSUKISHIMA KEI

- poor bby wants to act like it doesn’t phase him but he’s secretly so flustered

- you were lying on his chest, cuddling while watching a movie

- you noticed your boyfriend’s small snores from above you and got a little upset

- i mean y’all were only like 30 mins into the movie tf

- but you noticed how peaceful his face was

- and the small smile that appeared on his face when you gently brushed your fingers against his face made your heart wanna burst

- his glasses were slowly falling off of his face so you decided to be a good gf and take it off for him

- so that’s what you did, trying not to accidentally wake him up

- you folded up his glasses and moved slightly to try put them on the small table next to the couch and behind your bfs head

- but in order to do that, you would have to move over him

- i feel like tsukishima is a really light sleeper so when you started moving, he wasn’t really awake, just super super groggy

- so what he wasn’t expecting, was for your tits to be squashing his face, first thing when he wakes up

- i mean he wasn’t complaining (yes he was), but he was more confused than anything

- you almost winced in pain with how roughly your boyfriend pushed you off of him

- you were about to yell at him until you saw the huge blush on his face

“dammit y/n what are you doing, if you’re trying to seduce i don’t think this is the right way to do it”

“babe, what do you mean seduce you? i was trying to put your glasses away because you were falling asleep?”

“well did you have to do it while your tits were in my face?”

“wait i’m so confused, are you actually upset at me?”

“well no”

“so you liked it”

“pfft...no?”

- well just because he liked it, doesn’t mean he didn’t tease you about it for the next month

- he also apologised for pushing you 

↳ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

- okay so what if you were a klutz, you’ve only broke like 3 vases?

- whatever, either way, your beautiful and kind boyfriend thought it was adorable

- anyways, you were at home, trying *emphasis on trying* to cook a nice meal for your boyfriend for dinner

- yamaguchi was currently at work and therefore is not there to help if anything *everything* goes wrong

- yamaguchi loves you more than anything, no matter how many plates or cups you end up breaking, he’s always there to leave a tender kiss on your forehead and reassure you that everything was going to be okay

- but unfortunately for you, today was just not your day

- while you were at the stove, cooking up some food. you failed to notice the overflowing sink behind you that was just spilling water everywhere like it was no ones business 

- it wasn’t until the water reached your feet that you realised the tap still running with water and soap filling up the sink

- in a panic, you tried to grab as many paper towels as you can and turned of the sink

- however it seemed like the world was turned against you when the ringing of the fire alarm, making your already huge mess into a bigger one

- you frantically turned off the stove and opened all the windows

- in that moment, yamaguchi had just entered your shared apartment, shock evident in his face and he saw water and suds running down the cabinets, you  basically climbing over the kitchen counters, trying to open the windows and smoke that quickly filled his nose

- in a daze. yamaguchi just looked at you in horror as you noticed his presence at the entrance of the kitchen 

- excited to see your boyfriend after 12 long hours, you ran up to him, seeking his comfort and warmth

- but what you failed to realise was the water still on the tiles, after you abandoned the spillage to opened the windows

- and yes, you fell

- and yes, it was into your boyfriends arms

- and no, he was not prepared for you to fall into his arms so yall fell to the ground together

- it took a little while for you to process the past 5 seconds and it wasn’t until you heard your boyfriends muffled yells did you realise that you tits were suffocating him

“mmhmm... MMMM.. tits...off...face”

- you quickly climbed off of him and sat beside him as he tried to catch his breathe

- a strap of your tank top had fallen off in the process of your falling face first into your boyfriend

- combined with the adorable guilty look you had on your face, yamaguchi couldn’t help but become a blushing mess, covering his face with his hands, acting as if you you couldn’t see him

“baby as much as i love your body, you suddenly doing that kind of thing so suddenly, and without telling me, is very much uncalled for”

- you knew your boyfriend was flustered, so what’s more fun than teasing him about it

“i’m sorry yams, it was an accident, did you not like it?”

“like what?”

“my tits in your face”

“Y/N YOU CAN’T JUST SAY IT OUT LOUD LIKE THAT”

“is that no?”

“i-...no”

“well well well, i didn’t know that my boyfriend was a perv”

“y/n, stop it, plus you need to clean up this mess, and i’m not helping you this time, i’m gonna go take a shower”

“can i joi-”

“no. clean”

- he was lying he totally help you clean after his shower

- he even made dinner for you both

- it was also decided that he will do all the cooking in the house

↳ KAGEYAMA TOBIO

- it was right after they lost against aoba johsai and you were just trying to comfort your dear boyfriend, kageyama

- you arrived at his house with a bag full of his favourite snacks, drinks and some meat buns

- you rang the doorbell, but there was no answer

- so you being you, just decided to come in the house

- the entire house was dark which made you wonder if your boyfriend was even home

- you entered his room to find him watching his game with aoba johsai on his phone, in bed 

“babe? babe? tobio? you there?”

- he continued to watch the game as you set down the bag of snack beside his bag

- you sat next to his figure, watching him as he silently critiqued his performance from the day before

- even after feeling your weight on the other side of his bed didn’t phase him

- you decided to get into bed with him, not wanting to bother him too much while he was focused

- you went on your phone for 30 minutes before you decided to take a little nap, facing your boyfriends back

- kageyama released a huge sigh as he finished the video of the match and turned around to the other side, to avoid stiff muscles

- but what he didn’t expect when he turned around, was to be squashed into your tits

- he stayed there for a solid minute, his brain short-circuiting

his brain:

“ what is this”

“am i dreaming”

“did i die”

“these kind of feel like boobs”

- and with that he immediately got up, stressing about the possibility of his face being in the tits of a girl that isn’t you

- but when he sees your resting face, he instantly relaxes but till has a slight blush on his cheeks

- he lays back down next to you, praying that he didn’t startle you until your voice called out to him

“did ya enjoy that tobio, you stayed there for a while?”

- it was almost cruel, the way you tease your swkward boyfriend

“w-what do you mean, i didn’t do anything”‘

“so you mean you weren’t the one who stayed between my tits for like 5 minutes?”

“I WAS JUST SURPRISED, THAT’S ALL, I DIDN’T MEAN TO”

“its okay tobio, i didn’t mind”

“o-oh. you didn’t? your not mad?”

“mhm, your reaction was worth it”

“HEY ITS NOT FUNNY, I WAS SCARED”

“of tits?”

“no i got scared because i thought it might have been some stranger that broke into my house trying to seduce me”

“tobio what?”

“ugh whatever, shut up, now come cuddle me”

“needy aren’t ya tobio”

“SHUT UP”

[mmvalentine]

Maybe Rhys drugs Feyre so she can talk and see but she can’t move and he has his fun? 👀

Pinned

Feyre and Rhys are at war.

Whoever pins their mate first wins. If Rhys wins, he gets to fuck Feyre. If Feyre wins, she gets to fuck Rhys.

It’s a good game.

It started off as a training exercise, if Feyre recalls correctly. Rhys would come up in a sneak attack and incapacitate her, and timed how long it would take her to get free, fight back, and pin him to the ground.

Of course, Rhys enjoyed this far too much.

The first time, he plunged her into utter darkness while they were walking in the forest, and Feyre was left groping around trying not trip over roots or walk into low branches. She strained her ears but her mate’s low chuckle seemed to come from directly behind her, at the nape of her neck no matter which way she turned.

Where are you going, lost little bird? he purred in her mind. Feyre spun, reaching out but touching nothing. Suddenly, rough hands shoved her and her back hit tree back. Feyre tried to open her eyes wider, but it was no use. She was blind.

“Why don’t you show yourself, coward,” Feyre lashed out. The darkness was amused.

I can see, he said. Feyre jumped when his tongue hit her neck. Licked a broad stripe all the way up the side of her throat and ended just below her ear.

Where’s your fight back? Rhys crooned. Maybe you need to learn not to rely on your eyes so much.

“Maybe,” Feyre conceded. Rhys was now moving his lips back and forth along her jaw. “Or maybe I just need to look on the bright side.”

Rhys had just lifted his hands to cradle her skull, when Feyre let a ball of light burst forth from her chest. Rhys flinched and stumbled back, while the day court glow flooded down Feyre’s limbs. She gave him a wide smile as she drew in a deep breath and looked around herself.

“Much better,” she said, and before Rhys could recover, she knocked him to the ground. He made an oof sound as he landed, and Feyre straddled his chest on the leaf covered forest floor.

“I win,” she said, and kissed his nose. Rhys laughed and pulled her down to kiss his mouth. His hands wound her hair around and around his fingers, and Feyre pulled his trousers open. The shadows melted away, but Feyre didn’t stop glowing while they made love amongst the trees.

The second time, Rhys bound Feyre in her sleep, and woke her up with his breath hot on her lips and his fingers poised at the apex of her thighs.

Feyre moaned softly, and her eyes fluttered open. Rhys smiled at her, kissed her gently, and said “Good morning, lover.” Feyre smiled back at first, but then tried to reach for him and suddenly realised what he had done. Rhys smiled wider.

“Untie me you prick,” Feyre growled.

“Untie yourself,” Rhys replied, and then started stroking his fingers gently over her pussy. Feyre groaned and squirmed against the soft cotton ropes, but they held firm.

“How am I supposed to untie myself?” Feyre snapped. But Rhys only shrugged, and moved his teeth in her shoulder.

“Doesn’t really sound like my problem, does it?” He winked at her, then reached his free arm under and around her to squeeze her breast from behind.

Anger coiled in Feyre’s gut. This arrogant, smug bastard. She clenched her fists together and pulled her wrists apart. Of course the rope didn’t budge.

And yet Rhys let go of her suddenly, as if burned.

Burned.

That was the answer. Feyre fanned her anger into flame, and with a white hot flourish the rope against her skin burned away. Feyre turned to Rhys in triumph, and found him sitting up against the headboard. Watching her with light dancing in his eyes, even as he blew on his singed fingertips. Feyre laughed, and sat herself over his lap.

“I win again,” she said, and Rhys leaned his head back and pushed her hair behind her ear.

“Clever girl,” he whispered. Then he gripped her hips and ground her down over his lap, right onto his hard cock. Feyre’s hands found the top of the headboard as she rocked against him, until she was soaking through her panties.

She kneeled up off Rhys’s lap, and he met her eyes only briefly before he was sliding down the bed so that his face was level with her hips. He pulled her underwear down, tugged her forward and sucked her clit into his mouth. Feyre moaned and let her head fall back, hands still gripping the headboard, as Rhys ate her out while his fingers softly stroked the backs of her thighs where he held her.

After that, Feyre started getting revenge.

One time Rhys stepped into the bath, and the water rose suddenly into great spikes of ice that imprisoned him in the tub. His naked flesh broke out in goosebumps and he shivered so hard his teeth clacked together, while Feyre stood before him and ran her hot tongue over his chest.

One time Feyre soaked a pair of leather cuffs in faebane, and when he closed his eyes to kiss her she shackled him to the bed frame. He strength was sapped in an instant, and the shadows thrashed helplessly while Feyre dripped candle wax onto his wings.

One time Feyre painted herself to camouflage in with the mountain side, and lay in wait until Rhys walked by and then abducted him into a small cave. Rhys had yelped in surprise, then pushed her up against the wall and began to muddy the paint on her skin.

So now, Rhys has a plan.

He makes her breakfast in bed one morning, and laces her orange juice with a paralytic potion he pinched from Magda’s stores. He knows that if Feyre tries very hard, her healing powers can rid her body of the stuff in minutes. But only if she tries very hard.

It's a good thing Feyre is training.

Rhys lies across the bed propped up on an elbow, still in his undershorts and mussed hair. He watches Feyre smile as she bites into her toast, and then raises her glass to wash it all down. So innocent. So adoring. So full of trust.

As if he didn’t still have her nail marks in his back.

The potion works quickly, and Rhys’s grin spreads wider as Feyre looks down first in confusion, and then in rage as her limbs slow and stiffen.

Rhys tsks as he swiftly removes the tray of food before it spills.

“Never accept food or drink unless you're certain of your trust, dearest,” he lectures. “I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.”

Feyre raises an eyebrow, finding her face still able to move although her legs are now lead. “And am I not to trust you, mate?” she throws back at him. Rhys looks affronted.

“Of course not darling, we’re at war.” He shakes his head, and arranges her arms above her head. Feyre tries to push back against him, but cannot.

Rhys drapes himself languidly over her body, tracing his finger from her brow to her lips and around the edge of her breast.

"I think I like you like this," he says, and the weight of him presses the air from Feyre's lungs. "Laid out on my bed and unable to lift a finger."

"This is cheating," Feyre protests. "How is it training if you've poisoned me?"

"How indeed?" Rhys echoes. "If only there was some way you could rid your body of toxins and ailments. Pity."

Feyre glares at him, and he starts to slide her night dress up her body like he has all the time in the world. "Well," he muses. "I guess you'll just be my plaything until you figure it out." And with that he closes his mouth over her breast and pulls her nipple between his teeth.

Feyre gasps and instinctively arches her back, but her spine does not obey. Rhys chuckles, and flicks his tongue over the tip of her. His hands continue undressing her, fluttering over her skin as it is increasingly exposed.

"Did I ever tell you you have the most divine skin?" Rhys says, as he begins to press kisses all over her abdomen. Across her ribcage, down her stomach. His fingertips smooth over the length of her legs, and then his warm hands glide up the inside of her thighs. "No one makes silk like your skin, not even in the faerie realm." Rhys's nose skims across her hips, and goosebumps rise up her useless arms. "Just want to spend all day touching you."

Rhys keeps moving his lips, lower and lower. She can feel him smile when she tries to lift her hips to him. His thumbs circle against her so that they just barely brush the cotton of her underwear, and his tongue starts to play everywhere but where she wants it most.

"Rhys," she whispers, straining against the drug. But her mate frowns.

"Now now," he says, "playthings don't talk."

Finally, finally he licks a stripe up her pussy and it ends in a suckling kiss against her clit. Feyre sighs in relief, but then he's teasing again. He's flicking feather light touches against her clit, and if she could just get closer-

"You're thinking far too loudly pet," Rhys says mildly, lifting his face to look at her. "Be a good girl and lie still now."

"Prick," Feyre spits back at him, and without batting an eye Rhys slides two fingers inside her.

Feyre's eyes roll and her fingers twitch as she's stroked, in and out with his expert touch. For a minute, she forgets to struggle and just lets herself relax while he slowly builds her up. Rhys smiles as Feyre begins to moan.

"More," she breathes. "Faster."

But Rhys does the opposite. Adds a thumb over her clit but slows his movements down and grins feline when Feyre's eyes snap open.

"What's wrong, Feyre darling?" he coos. Feyre cries out in frustration, and tries to rock herself on his hand. Of course, she can't. Rhys's grin spreads, and she wants to smack him.

Feyre closes her eyes, and tries to take a deep breath. She knows she can access her healing powers if she can just calm down.

At that moment, Rhys starts rubbing the flat of his tongue up and down her clit while his fingers continue their torturous motion. Feyre's mind slides out of clarity, and she can feel herself soak his hand.

She sucks a breath in through her teeth, and tries to focus again. Rhys is now taking bites over her hips, hurting her just enough to pull her attention. Feyre ignores him as best she can, and imagines the potion being drained from her veins.

In a strange mix of sensations, Feyre starts to feel her energy draining into the effort of healing herself, but also begins to feel lighter. The heaviness lifts, just a little, from her limbs.

When Rhys slides up her body and licks his tongue up her throat, Feyre's head tilts back and her hips find his. She still can't get her arms to move, but her back arches up slightly, and her breasts press up against Rhys's bare chest.

"Good girl," Rhys whispers. He is rock hard between her legs, and grinds into her with rolling hips. He pulls her underwear the rest of the way off. Then his. His cock glides against the wetness of her, and his lips find the line of her jaw.

Feyre's toes curl, and her knees start to bend. She wants so badly to get her legs around his hips, but she can't quite do it.

"Is that the best you can do?" Rhys taunts, words vibrating in the hollow of her throat. Her fingers twitch toward her palm, and Rhys spots the motion. He smiles, bites down on her lip and lifts her wrists above her head. His knees cage her hips. "I think this is you pinned," he says in her ear, and then kisses her mouth.

Feyre throws everything she has into pushing the poison out, and just as Rhys's lips leave hers, she pulls out of his grip like Cassian taught her, flips their position and straddles Rhys's hips victoriously.

Rhys laughs and laughs.

"I almost had you there, dearest," he says. But Feyre is in no mood.

"Shut up," she tells him, and then takes his cock in her hand and sits down on it.

Rhys groans as she comes down tight around him. His hands grip her hips, but at this stage Feyre doesn't care what he does. She puts her hands on his thighs behind her and bounces on his lap, getting him exactly where she needs him. Rhys holds his thumb over her clit while she moves, and lets her take over.

Feyre's head drops back and release drips down her spine. She's so wound up she knows it won't take much to push her over the edge. Rhys leans forward to get his mouth on her breasts, and when his tongue flicks at her nipple she start to come. Rhys grabs her hips when her movements get erratic and keeps fucking her through her climax, so that she keeps screaming as he finds his own release and by the time he lets her go she is limp in his arms.

Feyre rests against Rhys's chest, as they breathe hard together.

"I win," Feyre mumbles. Rhys chuckles softly.

"When this is losing," he says, "somehow I don't mind at all."

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

[jonghos-left-airpod]

Royal! The boyz reactions to falling for someone at the ball

Tw: mention of drinks and food , almost slipping, a crowd staring at one point

Sangyeon: you caught his eye as soon as you walked in. Like the gentleman he is he let you get comfortable in the busy setting first. He admired you as you spoke with friends and got a drink. Once you finished your drink, you feel a light tap on your shoulder. "May I have this dance?" Sangyeon asked as he bowed and smiled at you. ( sorry this one is so short, I'll do a imagine later to make up for it)

Jacob: he noticed how even in your fancy attire you still moved around the room so gracefully, helping some of the staff when they needed anything. Someone had tripped on the dancefloor causing some of the drinks to spill over. Quickly you moved to help the person up and went to get a mop. Unable to dodge the spill on the floor you began to slip. Bracing your self to hit the wet floor you were meet with a warm chest instead. Jacob softly smiled at you" please be careful I don't want you to get hurt and get your pretty outfit dirty..... at least before I've been given the chance to ask you to dance"

Younghoon: younghoon was bored as he watched his friends grace the dancefloor. People had asked him to dance but none of them sparked his interest. " not much of a dancer?" You asked as you offered him a drink. Younghoon looked over at you and smiled" I am once I find the right partner" "aw so your that kind of guy" you giggle "cute" he thinks. "Do you dance?" " well I don't really know how" " will you give me the pleasure of maybe teaching you?" He asked as he reaches his hand out.

Hyunjae: hyunjae laughs as he sees you dance with a partner that lets just say wasn't the best dancer. He reaches his hand out to help you sit as you stumble over. " never again am I dancing, that guy stepped on my feet seven times!" Hyunjae only laughs as he hands you a glass of water. " dont say that, not every guy here is a bad dancer" you laugh as you both glance on the dancefloor no one really seems to be enjoying themselves. " how about I prove my point and show them how its done? Hyunjae says as he reaches his hand out to you, gently lifting you out of your seat.

Juyeon: juyeon had his eyes on you since you walked in. His friends teased him as he was to shy to ask you to dance. After a failed attempt resulting in him bumping into you causes you to spill your drink on the king, he walked out into the garden. Embarrassing he thought. A prince that can't even ask someone to dance with him. A stick breaking broke him out of his thoughts. " oh sorry I didn't know anyone else would be out here" you said. " no no it's fine. I should be the one apologizing.... about earlier" you giggle as you think about it. " I know its probably odd to say but did you see the look on his face it was hilarious" juyeon feels himself relax as he hears your giggles. Soon you both fall silent the only sound being the music coming from the ballroom. " this song is very pretty I wonder what's it's called" you stated. Juyeon nodded" I know it sounds crazy but would you maybe wanna dance with me out here?

Kevin: since the group dance started Kevin had been stealing glances at you. Even when you both switched partners, you would still find each others eyes in the crowd. Softly giggling as he winked at you. Finally after a few more rotations, you found your hands on his shoulder. " so finally I met my staring contest campanion" you giggle as Kevin spins you around and smiles down at you.

Chanhee(new): chanhee laughs along with his friends as they playfully dance around with each other. Chanhee of course sitting at the table. Stating that he was to embarrased to be seen hanging out with sunwoo and eric. But confident enough to laugh at them. His table just across the room from yours, where you also sat by yourself. Chanhee had stole a few glances at you but was to shy to walk over and speak with you. After an awkward amount of eye contact, chanhee began to play with the end of his suit. The sound of foot steps seemed to be getting louder and closer. He looks up suprise to see you smiling down at him. " would you like to dance with me?"You asked. Chanhee smiled and gently led you both to the dancefloor

Changmin(q): everyone at the ball was talking about how charming of a dancer changmin was. The way he seemed to absorb the music and put it into motion. The way his body moved made it seem like he was having fun but his face said otherwise. Unamused would be the word. Still he stayed polite, thanking everyone who danced with him. Your friend gently hit her shoulder against yours " dance with him" " are you crazy I cant dance that well" " he's looking over here" you glanced up to meet his eye, he smiled in return. He then waved his hand at you, wanting you to come closer Everyone surprised to see a genuine smile from him looked over at you. With a small crowd looking at you, you had little choice but to walk over to him. He gently reaches he hand out. "May I have the honor of dancing with you?"

Haknyeon: haknyeon's bubbly personality had caught your attention the moment you walked over to the food and drink table. You were glancing over your opinions as haknyeon walked over. " having trouble picking something?" "Its just so many options" " yea but lucky for you I've tried them all, I recommend these-" and for 10 min haknyeon explained each dish and what he liked about it, of course slipping in a joke here and there. " you seem to know so much about this" " yea but you know what else I know about?" You gave him a questioning look " I also know how to dance" he says as he looks at you longingly " is that your way of asking me to dance? " is that a yes?"

Sunwoo: sunwoo had admired you as soon as you walked into the room. Or should he say slipped lucky to be the one there when you missed a step coming down the stairs. The look you gave him as you shyly thanked him had made his heart skip more then a few beats even after you had walked away. The whole night he had stole glances at you even catching your eyes a few times. You smiled at him when that was the case. After a while sunwoo had finally built up the confidence to walk back over to you. Gently he tapped your shoulder. " are you as clumsy as a dancer as you are walking down the steps?" " I guess you'll have to dance with me to see" you smiled and led him to the dancefloor

Eric: Erie caught your eye as you walked around the ballroom. Everywhere you went he seemed to be near. Not in a creepy way but you could tell he knew almost everyone there. Anytime you heard laughter you could see eric somewhere in the area. As you stole glances you would meet his eyes and he would smile. As you walked over to get a drink, you felt a gentle tap on the your shoulder. "Eric." He reached out his hand " y/n". I dont think we've met before y/n" he said your name in such a sweet way he almost made you forget it. " no I dont think we have" " well you know what they say when you wanna get to know someone" " what do they say?" " your should dance with them" eric says as he looked you straight in your eyes. Flustered you say that that cant be true and that you've never heard that before. " you caught me they dont say that but I do, i can prove it to you if you'd like" he says as he smiles and reaches his hand out.

I hope you enjoyed this, if you did pls consider rebloging and checking out my masterlist ❤

[someonestolemyshoes]

The Keeper’s Introduction

Here is my fic for @levihan-drabbles Fluff Friday! 

Prompt: "I know I just broke into your apartment in the middle of the night but there are some bad people after my special power over alternate universes and I've decided to put all my faith on you to save everything."

They looked oddly at home, expertly navigating his kitchen. As though they had been there before. They grabbed the honeypot from another cupboard, and found a spoon in one of the drawers.

"Oi," Levi said. "How'd you know where I keep all my shit?"

The stranger waved their hand flippantly, "Oh, I'm well acquainted with your layout. It never really changes, wherever you are."

**

Levi had just settled in for the night when a loud echoing crack sounded in the street below.

It was well past midnight, far too late for such a racket. The sudden violence of it was almost enough to make him spill his tea. He waited with his breath held, his heart shamefully hammering in his chest. Levi prided himself on being the type who doesn't scare so easily—but one can't be blamed for being alarmed by an unexpected noise in the dead of night, can they?

The world remained mercifully still and quiet. Levi approached the open window slowly (carefully, not frightfully; there is no indignity in being cautious) and peered out into the night. The sky outside was almost full dark, saved from the pressing black by only a smattering of stars and the moon, a papery sliver of a thing hooked high over the distant rooftops. The window, open only an inch, gave entry to a gentle breeze, still balmy despite the lateness of the hour. The town was drowsy, dozing; only the occasional candle flickered in the darkness, and no sound, prior to or following the thunderous clap, could be heard.

The street, three stories below, was empty. Levi scanned the road, but found nothing unusual. The strangest thing, perhaps, was that his face was the only one peering out. None of his neighbours had deemed the explosion worth investigating.

It was, for all the world, a night as perfectly normal as any other. Levi had seen no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary might occur.

He blew out a breath. Maybe he had imagined it. He had been quite engrossed in his novel, and it was well past time for him to be sleeping. It isn't unreasonable to assume that the sound of a cat, perhaps, rattling the bins in the alley had startled his tired, occupied mind. Resolving to finish his chapter and go straight to bed, Levi gave the street one last cursory glance, and turned away from the window.

He had just settled back into his chair and picked up his tea cup and his book, when the doorbell rang.

The chime in itself was yet another oddity, for Levi received visitors only very rarely, and never at an hour so late as this.

He set down his drink and lowered the book to his lap with a frown. Better, he thought, not to answer straight away. Then they might leave without causing him any trouble—and if they rang a second time, and even a third, Levi would suppose it might be something urgent and might finally be pressed to receive his unwanted guest.

Much to his pleasure, the bell did not sound a second time. Levi waited, poised to stand, but minutes passed by with no sound at all, and eventually, mildly disgruntled now by the persistent interruptions, he settled back and tried, once again, to read.

He turned the page. Picked up his now lukewarm tea, and took a sip. Sunk down more comfortably into the plush armchair. He felt himself begin to settle. The peculiarities of the night drifted from his thoughts as he read, mind too engaged with the story in his hands to think too deeply over the strange events that had occurred.

And then, without any warning at all, a godawful shriek rent the air as Levi's window was wrenched open from the outside, the wood frame protesting with a violent screech. Levi jerked in his seat, book falling from his hands and his tea cup shattering as it struck the stone floor.

There was a person, making no efforts at all to be quiet, unashamedly clambering in through his window. Levi watched, too shocked to move, while they pulled themself over the sill and crumpled in a heap to the floor.

Levi could do nothing but stare as the intruder heaved themself up. They unfurled long limbs, straightening to their full height, and turned quickly to poke their head out of the open window. They looked left, then right, down, and most peculiarly, up, before pulling themself back inside and slamming the window closed. They drew the curtains shut, and turned to look into the room, casting their eyes about the place as though inspecting it.

They walked with a relaxed gate, seemingly unbothered by their rude intrusion. Levi couldn't be sure if they had noticed his presence, for they made no show of knowing he was even there, and Levi was still too stunned to announce it. He watched the stranger rotate in a slow circle, looking everywhere from the ceiling down to the floor. Satisfied, they slapped their hands to their hips and nodded once, and then their gaze fell on Levi, still sitting stiff as a board in his chair. The light from Levi's lamp cast half their face in shadow, glinting off the lenses of their glasses. Their mouth stretched in a wide, manic grin.

Levi swallowed hard. His courage returned to him swiftly, urging him to his feet. He faced the stranger head on with his face twisted in a scowl.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The intruder's grin only widened.

"Oh, Mike was right after all!"

They crossed to him quickly in two great strides. Levi twisted his head this way and that to watch them as they circled him. This close, Levi could better see the sharp hook of their nose, the angle of their jaw and the whiskey colour of their eyes, with strange, dark markings around their irises, like the face of a clock. He could also see the fingerprint smudges on their lenses. They wore all black, from their muddy boots up to the overlarge hood draped over their shoulders like a small cloak.

"Shitty four-eyes, answer me."

They let out a gleeful laugh.

"Oh, Mike my friend, you are a genius!" They said. And then, to Levi, they added, "Mike can sniff out you Guardians half a universe away, I swear."

Levi had no idea who Mike was, or what a Guardian was, and frankly, he didn't care. He levelled his home invader with a sharp glare. When he spoke again, it was through gritted teeth. "I said, what the hell are you doing climbing through my window? How? I’m three stories up!"

The stranger's smile finally faltered. They tilted their head. "I did try the doorbell."

"Why did you want to be in my house?"  

"Ah, well, you see—that's kind of a long story." They turned on their heel and strode into the kitchenette. Levi watched on, incredulous, as they filled his kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil. With one hand, they reached into the cupboard above the sink and rifled through the boxes until they found Levi's stash of chamomile tea, and with the other they reached for the draining board, and plucked up two clean cups by their handles. All of this, while they watched the water begin to simmer in the pot.

They looked oddly at home expertly navigating his kitchen. As though they had been there before. They grabbed the honeypot from another cupboard, and found a spoon in one of the drawers.

"Oi," Levi said. "How'd you know where I keep all my shit?"

The stranger waved their hand flippantly, "Oh, I'm well acquainted with your layout. It never really changes, wherever you are."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean, shitty glasses?" Levi tried to inject an air of disinterested anger into his tone, but the stranger’s words, said so plainly, raised goosebumps on his skin.

They chuckled. "I can't tell you how many times we've had this conversation. I'm Hange, by the way."

Hange brought the tea over to where Levi stood, and held one cup out for Levi to take. He clenched his fists by his sides instead. The tea, upsettingly, smelled perfect; brewed at the right temperature, for the right time, and sweetened with just a drop of honey. When he didn't take the cup, Hange shrugged and set it on the little table by the armchair. They spied the broken china on the floor and smirked, "you never have much luck with that one."

"Excuse me?"

"That cup. It's the one with the gold rim, right? And all the little forget-me-nots around the outside?"

Levi said nothing. Hange, irritatingly and unexplainably, for the cup was in many pieces now and the lighting was too poor to see it in any great detail, was absolutely right.

"You still haven't answered my question," he said.

"Right, right. Like I said, it's a long story. Do you want the unabridged version or are you happy with the footnotes?"

"A summary is fine."

Hange took a great slurp of their tea. "Long story short, I pissed off some very bad people, and now they are after me for my, ah—abilities."

"But why my house?"

"Mike told me where you'd be. And boy, am I glad he did! I barely made it in time. I was aiming to land right in your sitting room, but I guess my calculations were a little off…" they trailed away with a frown. Levi watched their lips work quickly, as though they were running numbers in their head. Then they stopped, and shook themselves off. "Doesn't matter now anyway. I didn't wake you, did I? World hopping can be pretty loud."  

That, at least, accounted for the sound Levi had heard outside. But...

"Hange," Levi said. "You've explained nothing."

"Give me a minute, Levi. It's complicated! There's a lot of history and I already know you don't want to hear any of it. Besides, we wouldn't have the time. We'll have to leave early in the morning."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Sure you are," Hange said. "I have to meet up with Erwin, and I need you to get me there."

"Where's there? Who the hell is Erwin?"

Again, Hange waved their hand at him. "Unimportant. Look, what matters is this: I might've messed with the timeline in another universe, and that may have caused some….upset, with some very important and very powerful people. I only changed a little bit!! I met this guy, Onyankopon—he's so cool, you know? Smart as hell. He had this idea that—well, it was the base model for an airplane."

"A what?"

"Well, see, that's the thing. Onyankopon asked the same question, and I just...told him. A little bit. I went a little too deep into the mechanics of it all, and he...well he might have developed a model that works. Two hundred years before it was supposed to exist in his universe. And now the Bureau is looking for me, but I’m not done with Erwin’s mission yet and so I am putting all my eggs in your basket. I need you to get me out of this in one piece.”

Hange looked more sheepish about this insane indiscretion than they had about breaking and entering.

"You're fucking insane," he said. Hange let out a bright laugh.

"So you've told me, more times than I can count."

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He felt a headache coming on.

"You look stressed," Hange said, sounding almost sympathetic. "Drink the tea! It'll help, though it's probably a little cold by now."

"You're the reason I'm stressed, idiot."

"Sorry about that," they said, not sounding very sorry at all. "I know the circumstances aren't...ideal. I'd much rather have come to you another time and explained everything properly, but—well, I was kind of in a hurry, and Mike sniffed you out, said you were the nearest you to my location. I didn't have much of a choice."

"Who the hell is Mike? Some kind of mutt?"

"Sort of," Hange said with a grin. "He's a Seeker. It's his job to locate people like you—people like us—when the Bureau needs us. Fortunately for me, Mike isn't overly loyal to our dear overseers—his allegiance lies with Erwin, as does mine. And Erwin is decidedly less strict about most of the timelines."

Hange circled around Levi and set their hands on his shoulders. Something strange sparked there, a heat that sunk through skin and muscle and settled right in his bones. They had already ushered him into his chair by the time he shrugged them off.

"What does any of this batshit garbage you're spewing have to do with me?"

"You are a Guardian. It's your role to protect people like me from harm."

"The hell does that mean, people like you? I’m not fighting anyone to save your scrawny ass from anything. You fucked up, you deal with it. "

Hange stood up straight and puffed out their chest. "I am a Keeper. I'm supposed to keep order in the timelines. According to the Bureau, at least. Erwin has other ideas—but that's a story for another time. For now, we should rest. Like I said, we've got to leave early in the morning."

"To go where?"

"To Erwin!" Hange said brightly. "I don't have my pocket watch anymore, so we're gonna have to take the traditional route. There's no way I'll make it on my own. And don’t worry, you won’t have to fight anyone. I’ll explain it all on the journey."

"Look,” Levi said. “Can't you just...drop out of the sky whenever this Erwin guy is? I'm sure he's got his own window you can climb through."

"No can do," Hange said. "I can only hop between universes. I need my watch to move fast within any one universe, and mine took a dunk in a river, during my escape."

"Magic bullshit technology that lets you, what, teleport across the damn globe? And it can't survive a dip in a river?"

"They aren't watertight," Hange said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And they still run on batteries. Moblit is working on improving the technology."

Levi's head throbbed. He rubbed his eyes and glowered up at Hange, who was watching him with a soft smile. Levi deepened his scowl.  

"What's that shitty face for?"

Hange's expression softened further. They looked at him with so much fondness, Levi felt his face grow warm.

"I've missed you, you know," they said. "Well, not you, but—you. It's been...a really long time."

"That makes no sense," Levi said. He meant it, too—nothing Hange had said to him made sense at all. It was the stuff of storybooks, fairy tales; the product of an imagination run wild. And yet, Hange's presence, alarming as it had been and frankly still was, felt oddly familiar. The warmth of their hands still rested on his shoulders. In spite of himself, Levi felt the corner of his lip begin to curl into a small, absent smile. He wrestled it back down.

Hange laughed, a light, lilting thing, and yawned. They crossed the room to Levi's small dining table and dropped heavily into a chair.

"I suppose you're right," they said with a lazy grin. "It doesn't make any sense at all. You'll just have to trust me."

"You broke into my house. You're not selling your reliability very well. And don't even think about it."

Hange looked over at him, surprised. "Think about what?"

"Putting your filthy feet on my damn table."

"Whatever gave you the idea I'd do something like that?"

Levi opened his mouth to answer, but snapped it closed swiftly as the thought, which had come to him thoroughly unbidden, fully registered in his mind. You do it all the time.

Levi pinched his eyes, staring at Hange. They sat with a curious little tilt of their head, watching him with an open, analytical look. Levi squirmed under their gaze.

"I don't know," he said. "Seems like the kind of shit you'd do."

"Like something I've done before?"

Levi flinched, and Hange smiled all teeth at him, a strange mix of impish and pleased. They propped their elbow on the table and rested their chin on their palm. "There it is," they said quietly.

"What?" Levi asked. Too eager. Hange looked thrilled as they straightened up in their chair, eyes gleaming in the lamplight.

"There are a lot of you's, one in every single universe, just like there are a lot of Isabel's, and Farlan's, and Petra's—"

"How do you—you know what, nevermind. Go on."

"But because you're a Guardian, all your you's are linked. And because you're my Guardian," Hange looked weirdly proud at this pronouncement, "it's only natural that you remember me. It'll happen a lot, I'm sure. Try not to freak out."

Levi snorted. "You say that now?"

"Would it have made a difference if I said it earlier?"

Levi mulled that over for a second. No, he supposed it wouldn’t. He’d have thought them completely unhinged either way. Instead of answering, he picked up the tea from the table and drained it in three gulps. When he looked back at Hange, they were smiling brightly at him.

"Just how you like it, right?"

"I prefer it hot."

Hange kicked their heels against the floor and shot him an affronted look. With a petulant pout of their lip, they said, " So unfair, Levi! That's not my fault."

He shrugged them off. He would never admit it to them, but he took some bizarre delight in watching Hange's tantrum. It felt all too natural. They slumped back in their chair, head tipped over the back rest to stare at the ceiling.

"Ah, you're as cruel as ever," they said. "It's good. Very you."

Hange pushed their glasses up to their forehead and rubbed at their eyes. The scene looked painfully familiar; Hange, smiling sleepily, bleary eyed in the low blush of candlelight. Only, in the image forming in his mind, they were resting against a plump, well-fluffed pillow, and their hair was down from its ponytail, still messy and falling over their face. In the image forming in his mind, Levi's own hand reached out to brush a few strands from their cheeks, and Hange turned into his palm, their lips brushing the sensitive skin there.

Levi shook his head, face a little warm. Hange was watching him again. He scowled at them for good measure, gathering up his own cup and theirs, and washing them in the sink. He let the water run cool over his hands for a long moment.

"You should rest, if you're tired," he said. From the table, Hange hummed.

"Good idea," they said. "The bed's big enough for two, right?"

Levi turned sharply to refute them, but Hange didn't give him the chance. They had already heaved themself up out of their chair and kicked off their boots, and now, with the practiced ease of someone who had lived in the house for years, they were wandering down the hall and straight into Levi's bedroom, leaving the door open behind them.

Levi dried his hands slowly on the dish towel. He looked at the armchair, big and well-cushioned, spacious enough for him to recline in for a few hours rest. It wouldn't be the first time, and he had no doubt it would be the last. And then he looked down the hallway, where Hange must have lit the lamp; warm light spilled out into the corridor, and Levi was reminded abruptly of his strange thoughts.

This Hange, they were crazy. Talking the most nonsense Levi had ever heard come straight from another person's mouth. He would be better off resting his eyes in his chair, and kicking Hange out at first light.

That was the logical thing to do. The reasonable thing. That was the desperate plea of his better judgement.

Instead, he blew out his lamp, and stormed down the hallway after them.  

"You lie on my fresh sheets in your filthy clothes and I'm throwing you back out the window, Guardian or not."

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 101 (Mirror’s Edge)

Summary:  Caitlyn is a thief looking for the next big score. Used to taking wristwatches and wallets from rich folk, she's aiming to take down bigger game as she discovers the hidden magical world within her hometown. Her first mark is an unassuming shopkeeper and his collect of ancient relics. All set with a plan, Caitlyn makes her move. Though plans rarely go off without a hitch.

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are all well and staying safe. So the next chapter of my little side project is here! Honestly wasn't planning on getting back to this so soon but I was having fun worldbuilding and character creating and here we are. You can blame my friend @hains-mae for enabling me.

Right so the next thing I write will probably be the part two to this then the next chapter of the Underground. Umm that's really it for me so have a great week, be safe, wear your mask, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Please feel free to reblog, share, leave kudos or leave comments with things you liked or feedback if you read it on a03. I promised I'd try to promote myself more and it feels weird haha.

E is out, have a great one everyone! and here’s the link to the doobly do 

---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76014323

There was an arrogance that seemed deeply etched into every aspect of the magical world. She stood among valuable, ancient relics from throughout human history: Vases from Greece lined the shelf above her. A row of Roman gladius blades in various states of decay with only a flimsy glass case between them and Caitlyn’s pocket. Tarnished Victorian era slivered lockets left about like loose change.

Millions dollars worth of the past and she, a stranger, was left unattended with it all.

Technically she wasn’t supposed to be in here with the locked door and close sign but the fact in the 5 minutes it took her to pick the lock and scout the first floor without a single soul attempting to stop her really was a testimony to the haughtiness of the ‘shopkeeper’.

It had been only few months since she saw past the false reality that was superimposed onto hers and she was still readjusting: Magic was real. Elves, dwarves, little halfing folk? Real. People shooting bolts of lightning and flames while riding storm clouds? Real. The guy who kept awkwardly hitting on her every time she tried to get a hotdog from the cart at the corner? Just a regular creep BUT could’ve been magical.

Even their currency was a show of their excessive wealth: Sliver, gold, platinum coins Actual platinum traded away like it was nothing! People starving and helpless on the streets and these bastards just walked with some of the rarest metal on the planet in their pockets like chump change.

Anger bubbled within her stomach along with self righteousness and a bit of her breakfast but she took a deep calming breath, closing her bluish gray eyes. ‘Calm down Cait’ she scolded herself ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve seen excessive wealth squandered and wasted. You’re here for a job so do it and never come back.’

She glanced around the waiting room she found herself in. It was off to the side of the shopping front andthere were very few things of interest in the tiny room: Some old, tattered chairs that had seen better days. A very, very tacky abstract painting hung over a bricked up fireplace. There was a scattering of magazines older than her with loose stables and free roaming pages everywhere.

A place of show and very little use.

“Hello my angel.”

Caitlyn seized up. She had been so caught up in her rage she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone coming down the stairs. Three stories with a handful of people about and nary a sound could heard. Must be some sort of magic.

She shook herself out of her stupor, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. She forced her lips to curve into the cutest, lost smile she could muster. She opened her purple jacket a bit further so the guy could get a clearer view of her tight white tank top and running shorts.

“Helpless. Remember you’re helpless.” She whispered to herself before whirling about, her long black hair with dyed purple coloring flowed behind her gracefully as if she was an actress in those stupid hair product commercials.

“Oh!” she spoke with mock surprise, scrunching her face cutely as possible “I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m lost and the door was open and sorry!”

She leaned forward, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck as she gave whoever it was a better view of her outfit.

Hook, line and sinker.

“No problem sweetie. No need to lie to me.”

Hook, line and sunk apparently.

She blinked, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. She glanced up to find a strangely dressed man with the goofiest grin.

He was cute in a ‘I dress as an obscure, indie character for cosplay’kind of way: His messy, unkempt black hair sat under a black fedora. He wore a long black trench coat that had seen better days. At least he preferred more colors than black on black. His collared shirt was a nice baby blue with an equally nice light brown vest. Black dress pants because men’s fashion is incredibly boring and shiny loafers to completed the look. Whatever the look was.

She expected him to be taking a good look at her attire.

What she found was him staring at her.

His warm dark brown eyes were soft, gentle and he refused to break his gaze from her bluish grays even though there were more tempting sights on offer.

She was on the back foot. No wandering glances, no self pleasured smiles. Not even a creepy chuckle. Just a strangely dressed, inch shorter guy looking like he just found the love of his life in this moment.

“I…” she cleared her throat “Umm….did you hear me?”

He gave a quick nod “Yeah. You broke in and you were trying to cover your tracks.”

It wasn’t that he guessed correctly what was she up to that threw her off. It was how casually he said it. More discussing the weather than committing a felony.

She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to proceed from whatever this was. There were always some people who caught on about her intentions fairly quickly but no one had ever been so….indifferent about it.

“I don’t work here.” the man offered, slowly closing the distance between them but leaving the doorframe wide open “I really don’t care that you’re here to rob the place.”

This has to be a trap. This had to be. No one was ever this….laidback. Were the other goons on the side waiting to jump her when she bolted? Was she on camera and he was letting her go knowing full well he had all the evidence he needed to track her down?

Or maybe he really didn’t care. He seemed more interested in talking than stopping her and there was this strange presence about him. A calm she’d never felt before even when her parents were alive. It was odd and foreign to her but she felt safe. Protected.

She shook her head, slowly inching closer to the doorway. The man made no attempt stop her. He just stood there, smiling, hands in his pocket.

The rational part of her brain said to run. This whole thing was botched and it was better to cut her losses than find out first hand what magical creatures could do to her. The less rational side of her head told her to wait, to talk this guy. Lying was obviously pointless but she had a feeling he would answer any questions she’d had and she had plenty.

“So…” she rose a suspicious eyebrow “Not gonna stop me?”

He shook his head “I wish you’d stay but I understand if you don’t want to be found in Andor’s shop. He’s one of those new elves. Less honor more power.”

She blinked. He said elves right? Just threw it out there like it was an everyday matter of fact and not a deeply held secret of her hometown.

“Elves aren’t real.’ Caitlyn said matter of fact.

“We both know better than that.” The man gave a bright smile.

“What do you want?”

The words spilled out of her mouth despite her best attempts but this guy was throwing her off so badly she forgot how to function.

“Talk to you of course.”

The worst kind of people were the sincere ones. They were sappy and gooey. They just so happy it was sickening. They had to be up to something. They had to some scheme or scam or something they were waiting to drop on you. No one was that happy, that purely honest. They were the liars who were so good they convinced themselves they were good people. No one was good and everyone had a dark corner in their soul they hid from the world.

Caitlyn knew she had plenty in whatever was left of her ratty soul.

“And if we talk? Will you let me go?”

The man nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caitlyn licked her lips anxiously “Promise?”

Promise? What was she 12? No one kept their promises. Not even her.

He placed his hand over his heart “Cross my heart.”

“Let’s talk,”

He jerked his head towards the door “Outside. Don’t want you to ruin your heist.”

-----

Today was not going how she was expecting. She was thought she was going to break into an elf ran front, scout the area and come back in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been expecting to have coffee and bread with a random stranger on the street.

Well she had coffee, mystery man opted for hot chocolate.

They stood in a strangely comfortable silence a block from Andor’s. The man offered to pay for whatever she wanted and she took him up on it. Couple of baked goods, a sandwich for lunch, some water and of course her cup of wake up juice. If he was mad at her for her splurging at his expense, he hid it well. He just took his coco and some fancy elvish bread. Looked good but Caitlyn wasn’t up for trying other beings food. She didn’t know how it would sit with her stomach.

The elf who ran the cart, a few months ago human to her, waved goodbye to the pair as he counted the human cash the man gave him.

The trench coat cosplay stood patiently, sipping his drink and waited for her to break the silence.

She refused to break the silence first. Not wanting to sound too eager. Eagerness was a weakness and this guy was already throwing her off her rhythm.

“I’m Finnrick by the way.”

She turned to him, unsure if he was messing with her or not.

He gave her the same goofy smile “Finnrick Drift, private investigator.”

“Ah huh.” She nodded slowly “So you’re a magical P.I.? Like elves cheating on their wives, dwarves dodging their taxes P.I.?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders “Ironically elves like dodging on their taxes more than dwarves.”

“Right.”

“You’re new to the whole other side of Newton Haven huh?”

She glanced at her coffee “Lived here my whole life. Really makes me wonder if I lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all mad here Alice.”

Why was she talking to him? Why was she being honest? This was weirder and getting weirder every passing second.

Finnrick changed subject “So, robbing Andor? Any particular loot you are after?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes “Trying to fish something out of me Finny?”

“Guilty as charged” He beamed with pure happiness “Don’t want you wasting your time on shiny trinkets he cares nothing about.”

Caitlyn remained silent. She wasn’t used to such transparency. Normally this would be the point where the guy would lie or pretend to not have heard or awkwardly switch the subject but Finnrick answered openly and honestly. So far.

“So” Caitlyn straightened up, pulling her jacket wide open “What do you think? Great outfit right?”

Finnrick turned to her with a grin, his cheeks turning a pinkish hue as his eyes locked onto hers “Your body is absolutely lovely but your eyes even more so.”

Caitlyn could feel the flush coming. She coughed loudly, focusing on her drink as she willed the embarrassment away.

Finnrick chuckled lightly but returned to his drink. The silence returned, still comfortable as before.

This is was bad whatever this was. She needed to regain some level of control and stop acting like a teenage girl on her first garbage fire of a date.

“So” she cleared her throat “Mister P.I. what would you recommend taking if not all those millions of dollars of historical items he leaves about?”

Finnrick crushed the foam cup effortlessly as he gestured to the third floor of the shop “His office has a pretty simple safe. He keeps loads of paperwork. His various contracts, accounts, treasure hoards”

Caitlyn scoffed in disbelief even though her eyes shone with excitement “Treasure hoards? Elves? I thought dragons were the hoarders. Weren’t elves supposed to be above all that lovely corruption?”

“No one is above corruption.’ Finnrick answered “Elves are just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned back with a cocky swagger “And why, pray tell, would I care about boring paperwork?”

“Because it really hurt him in the pride.”

Damn Finnrick was good. Not only she was eager to learn more, she could already feel the smug satisfaction of bringing a powerful prick down a peg fill her cause.

Finnrick seemed to notice this because he went on “Andor is a young elf. 100 years give or take.”

“A hundred years is young?”

“When you live a thousand years every other race is a child to you. Andor’s old man is a swell guy. He’s one of those good elves you see in Tolkien.”

“Tolkien?” Caitlyn furrowed her brow “He wrote the books that those Lord of the Rings films are based on right?”

“Yeah actually.”

“Oh and the Hob…”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finnrick quickly added “But see the problem is Andor’s old man doesn’t know his son has become the small time crime lord. Thinks he’s running an antique business selling off old junk that was gathering dust in the family’s attic.”

Something clicked into place for Caitlyn “Wait. Junk from the attic? You mean all those relics on the shop floor?! THAT’S OLD JUNK!?”

Finnrick gave a casual shrug “Elves are weird. Andor don’t know shit about selling, all his money comes from his illegal business practices. That’s how he keeps the shop afloat.”

“I see” Caitlyn spoke, her bluish grays sparkling with mischievous intent “If those records disappeared, his shop sinks and he has to run back home to daddy.”

“And out of the city” Finnrick finished with a smile “And those records are pretty valuable to loads of people. Easier to fence and less messy to explain than a long lost Greek vase showing up in someone’s private collection. You’d get good prices for those hoard locations alone. Better than trying to carry tons of stolen and lost treasure back to your house.”

Caitlyn eyed Finnrick carefully “And you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Trying to do your ‘civic’ duty to our fair city?”

“Among other things” Finnrick admitted “But mostly for the greater good.”

“Pfft, greater good? Yeah sure buddy. Like you know what’s the greater good.”

“Will you do it?”

Caitlyn paused, allowing all this information sink in. It was much better than she had planned and while she wasn’t sure of Finnrick’s angle, he seemed honest enough. Of course everyone seems honest enough the first time you meet them.

“Let’s say I do” she spoke, placing her hands on her hips to play the part “What’s in it for you?”

“A favor” He replied simply.

She rose a curious eyebrow “A favor? It’s not date with me, is it?”

“No, I plan to earn that one myself.” Finnrick answered cheerfully.

Caitlyn coughed “Fine, good. Not a date. Least you’re not a creep. But a favor is pretty vague.”

“It’ll be simple I promise.”

Caitlyn narrowed her gaze suspiciously “You promise?”

Finnrick put his hand over his heart again “Cross my heart.”

Caitlyn took a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

Caitlyn offered her hand towards the trench coat cosplayer “You got yourself a deal.”

He gently took her hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. She was surprised when, as he pulled back, she felt a strange metallic item left behind.

She looked at the crystal butterfly hair clip he placed in her hand: It was a beautiful with sliver hues and multi-colored shards of glass across its wings.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

Caitlyn felt uneasy with the ornament in her palm: It felt cold and distant like it was feeling her out and wasn’t liking what it found.

“It’s attuning to you.” Finnrick explained “It’s syncing up to your whole aura.”

“Aura?” Caitlyn shot him a glare of disbelief “This isn’t one of those new age hippie things is it?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s a magical item. Yours specifically. Everything alive has a deep and very convoluted to explain connection to this plane. The hairclip is trying to match yours so you and only you can use it.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Because it doesn’t know you yet. It will.”

Caitlyn felt unease about whatever this was. Part of her wanted to toss it as far as she could. The worst part was she felt the item probing at her, changing temperatures as if trying find a comfortable setting for both of them. Burning one moment and too cold the next. This was magic and it made her felt like she knew nothing.

But part of her felt it slowly and subtly trying to match her, focusing on her and on her place in the universe. It felt more natural each passing moment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious what mister detective over here was letting her borrow.

Caitlyn blew a strand of hair out of her face “How long does this usually take?”

“An hour.” Finnrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone “Oh shoot I have a meeting to get to.”

He turned to leave and suddenly Caitlyn felt alone. Awkward just standing in the street without someone to talk to.

“Wait!” She reached for him but quickly pulled back when he faced her “….any advice?”

Finnrick scratched his chin for a moment “Red tiles. Avoid them or they’ll blast you off the roof.”

“G-gotcha.” Caitlyn didn’t want to know what blast off the roof was code for “A-and the hairclip? What’s it do?”

Finnrick gave a cheeky grin and Caitlyn could feel her face flush “I guess you’ll have to find out angel. Bye for now. May we meet again soon.”

And like that, he was off. Strolling down the straight with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.

Caitlyn glanced at the ornate hairclip in her hand.

Turns out there was a lot more to this magical world than she thought.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 8

Masterlist

In this chapter, the reader learns more about Viking traditions, tries to talk to Eda again and finally becomes a member of the clan.

CW for food/alcohol, nudity, death mention, men giving unsolicited hugs (yikes)

Inspo Pic by @classicnovaproductions​

Stand by Me

While Eivor got dressed for the day, you stacked some more wood in the fireplace to make sure you and Birna would be warm. Holding up the bloody tunic, you told Eivor that you would try to save it but could not make any promises. You took the opportunity to ask her if you could by any chance have more clothes, maybe a dress or a warm shirt and pants. She was terribly sorry she had not thought of it earlier and suggested going to the village’s merchant right away to get you some appropriate clothes for your ceremony tonight. 

You wrapped yourself in your fur coat, then you had some more bread and Eivor reluctantly drank some of Valka’s bitter brew before heading out together. The merchant had set up camp down by the water and the sun was peeking through the clouds, lifting your spirits on the way down the hill. As you passed the longhouse, you heard someone yell Eivor’s name.

Randvi came rushing toward you, her hair unusually untamed and her face red from agitation. Eivor instinctively stepped in front of you, shielding you from whatever might come. Randvi stopped a few feet in front of you and put her hands on her hips. 

“Y/N, I think I need your help.”

You were surprised but pleased to be seen at eye level by her. You nodded and Eivor stepped back next to you, crossing her arms and waiting for Randvi to explain.

“It’s about Eda. She is refusing to eat or drink again. I fear she will not live to see another night. I have spent hours with her, trying to get her to understand why all this had to happen and why she still has a chance at a good life if she just finds acceptance within herself. She will not listen.”

Damn it. With everything going on, you had completely forgotten about your friend that was still sitting in her cell. Randvi looked seriously concerned and you could tell it was serious. It also made you realize how you had seen that none of the Vikings really wanted to harm innocents, they would fight anyone who raised arms against them but you had gone with them freely and they honored that. Randvi did not want to be responsible for the death of an innocent woman, she wanted to give her a new life here.

You nodded.

“I will speak to her, but I cannot promise that she will listen. Last time she would not even look at me.”

Eivor laid a hand between your shoulder blades and turned to you. 

“Do you want to do this now or after? I can wait.”

You thought about it for a moment, then you decided to give Eda some time to think after her conversation with Randvi. You would get your new clothes first, then you would go to the longhouse and sit down with Eda. Randvi thanked you sincerely, then she left without a word toward Eivor. She did not seem hostile in any way, but rather respectful and distanced. 

Eivor seemed to have noticed the same and was deep in thought as you made your way to the merchant’s tent. He greeted you with enthusiasm, explaining that he had already heard much about you and that he had the perfect clothes already picked out for your ceremony tonight.

He turned to the table where he had already laid out some things for you. He picked up a beautiful linen underdress for you to see. It had long sleeves and would fully cover your legs. The fabric was dyed a blue color, like Forget-Me-Nots in spring. The second dress he proposed to wear over the first one was shorter, only reaching the top of your knees, and would be held up by two straps that were secured with golden buttons on the front. It was a pale blue, like the morning sky, and there were tiny white flowers stitched into the fabric at the chest. 

Eivor explained to you that this was traditional Viking clothing. Women would wear a long under-dress and a shorter woolen hangerock or apron over it which could be embroidered or embellished with shells, gemstones, or other ornaments if the woman wearing it could afford it. Brooches could also be used to fasten the clothes to each other or to pin jewelry on them. The merchant had picked out two golden brooches with ravens on them. Three lines of red and blue glass beads were strung up between them. They were beautiful.

Eivor and Randvi wore men's clothes because they had become drengrs at a young age and of course, dresses were extremely hindering in fights. Women were generally not allowed to wear men's attire, but for anyone involved in fighting or hunting it was best to wear protective and advantageous clothing. Part of you suddenly longed to see Eivor in a dress, her hair flowing freely and adorned with flowers, her body decorated with jewelry and beautifully colored fabrics. 

Meanwhile, your drengr seemed to think of the opposite. She was browsing through some furs and thick woolen pants, testing a leather sheath for a dagger and inspecting a pair of boots.

“I wonder if I will get to see you in clothes like these one day,” she said, turning to you. Her remark caught you off guard. Had Eivor pictured you as a warrior in the same moment you had imagined her in traditional women’s attire? You thought back to Valka’s predictions for your future and had to smile at the unsuspecting woman in front of you. 

“Maybe you will. Would you teach me how to fight?”

“Would you like to learn?” Eivor gave you a surprised but appraising look, her eyes beginning to glow with a deep passion. 

The merchant cleared his throat behind you, probably worried about losing your interest in his precious goods. You turned around and gave him a disarming smile. He took a step back and lowered his head respectfully. 

“Yes, Eivor, I do,” you answered without looking back at her. “When can we start?”

-

Eivor not only bought you the dresses and jewelry without question, but she also picked out grey linen trousers with straps at the bottom that would prevent the leg from sliding up in the snow, a woolen kyrtill, a thick overtunic that would keep you warm in the cold days to come, and a belt with several pouches to carry your belongings as none of the clothes had pockets. 

She did not even flinch when the merchant named his price and paid in silver coins. He wrapped all your new purchases into a large cloth made of rough linen and Eivor took the bundle and swung it over her shoulder. 

You thanked her several times, overwhelmed by her generosity, but she just shook her head and told you that you deserved this and that she would gladly spend all she had on you. She promised to bring the clothes for the ceremony to Valka and suggested you go straight there after speaking to Eda so the healer could prepare you for everything that was going to happen.

As soon as you entered the longhouse, Randvi was with you and gave you a bowl of steaming hot beef stew with potatoes, beans, and two thick slices of bread. She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed.

“In the last few days, I’ve visited her more than a dozen times offering her food and promising whatever she wanted if she only decided to stop fighting me. The other two men that were still with her left the cell yesterday, they’re with our boatbuilder now. From what I have gathered, she usually is a very upright, smart woman, but she is also extremely hard-headed and will not let go of the things she puts her mind to, even if it destroys her.” That sounded very familiar. You wondered if Randvi had noticed she was describing herself. 

“If you can find it in you to save this woman, I would be in your debt. I cannot let her perish in my care, her life is worth too much to sacrifice it like this, for nothing.”

She gave you a solemn nod and vanished into the map room. You took a deep breath, then you went toward the back of the hall and into the side room in which the wooden cage was now empty but for a single bundle in a corner. 

Eda’s eyes were glazed and she seemed to be somewhere else in thought. Her body had dwindled into nothing but a fragile skeleton and her face was white, almost grey. Dag got up to open the door for you, but you shook your head. You went around the cell and reached your arm through the wooden bars to place the bowl next to Eda, then you sat down with your back to hers. She did not react. 

You sat in silence for a while, then you pulled your knees up to your chest and decided to try your luck.

“Eda. I have known you since the day you were born. We grew up together, we had fun, went on adventures, and learned our lessons. One thing I always admired you for is your strong sense of right and wrong. Remember when you accidentally chased one of the dogs off the edge of the hill and he broke his leg and had to be put down? You told your father the same night that it had been your fault. He raved and screamed bloody murder, but you just stood there, stone still and silent, and waited until the storm had passed.”

You had been there that night, pressed into the corner in fear as William had thrown candles and trinkets around the room, spilling hot wax everywhere and ruining one of the expensive oriental armchairs. Eda’s strength and courage had seemed unmatchable back then and it still did now, looking back at the scrawny girl with the messy braid standing in front of her father like a pillar of salt.

“I know that what happened to your family was cruel and your mother’s death was wrong, it was horribly wrong.” A tear rolled down your cheek as you said a silent prayer for the salvation of your poor, tortured mistress. 

“But it happened and there is nothing we can do about it. The storm has already passed, there is nothing left to wait for. No one is threatening you, no one is trying to hurt you. And none of this was your fault. But Eda, if you starve yourself to death now, if you leave this world” - you could not suppress a sob rising from your chest and pressed your palm to your mouth before taking another deep breath - “if you leave me, I will blame you. I will blame you for giving up, for not fighting for a better life. Your father did terrible things in his lifetime, and he paid for them. You have done nothing wrong, you do not deserve to sit here and waste away.”

You could hear Eda’s shaky breath behind you. She was silently crying. 

“Please choose to do the right thing. For me, for your mother, for Delia. You have an opportunity for a life with respect and purpose here, one without serving as an instrument for your father’s plots and schemes. You can be free. You can still live by my side. Please, Eda, please choose to be free.”

You buried your face in your crossed arms and let your tears flow freely. This could not be the end of her life. What a terrible waste that would be. 

As you turned your head slightly, you saw that there was only one piece of bread left in the bowl. Hope immediately started burning inside of you. She was listening. She had not said anything to spite you this time. You leaned your head back against the bars and waited. After what felt like hours, you could hear the spoon scrape against the wooden bowl.

“Thank you,” you whispered, filled with deep gratitude and hope for a future for your friendship. The bowl suddenly appeared next to you, held by a slender white hand. As you took it from her, your fingers touched for a second and Eda did not pull away. 

You turned around to her, crouched on the balls of your feet. 

“Can I bring you anything else?” There was a moment of silence, then a weak, raspy voice answered.

“The auburn-haired woman. Randvi. She really tried to help me. Can you send her to me? I need to speak to her.” 

Relief washed over you. Did this mean Eda wanted to leave her cell and join you?

“I will let her know right away.” 

You rushed to the map room where you found Sigurd and Randvi quietly discussing something. They were standing behind the big table, both with their arms crossed and faces filled with frustration and hopelessness. You knocked on the wooden archway to make your presence known and they immediately separated, putting the length of the table between them. Randvi gave you a hopeful look.

“Did you have any luck?”

You held out the empty bowl.

“She wants to speak with you.” 

Randvi gave Sigurd a cold look, then she nodded and came to you, taking the bowl from your hands and calling out to Sfáva, giving her instructions in Norwegian while she rushed off. 

You were about to turn away and leave for Valka’s hut when Sigurd said your name, stopping you in your tracks. You bowed your head to him and stepped closer.

“I take it you have not changed your mind? You will join our clan tonight?” He was watching you closely, his eyes squinted in contemplation. 

“Yes, Milord. I have chosen to stay at Eivor’s side.”

His eyes showed a hint of realization, then he smiled and nodded. 

“I see. My sister will take good care of you. Your three companions have also chosen to stay with us. They will partake in their own welcoming rite right after your ceremony.”

This news filled you with joy. You had known them for a long time and you were glad to have them by your side at this important moment of your life and in the days to come. You thanked Sigurd for his hospitality and generosity, then you excused yourself and finally made your way up the hill to the little cottage at the edge of the woods. 

The sun was setting earlier these days and it had already said its goodbyes for today, letting the colors around you fade to pale grey. You shivered and pulled your coat more tightly around your body. Smoke was rising from Valka’s chimney and warm golden light was welcoming you from the windows. 

You heard singing when you stepped up to the door. It stopped abruptly when you knocked, then Valka opened the door and gave you a loving smile. 

“Come in, little bird, I’ve been waiting for you!”

She grabbed you by your upper arms and steered you to a chair, kicking the door shut behind her. She had lit dozens of candles around the room and the pleasant smell of incense filled your nostrils as you looked around. Valka had dressed up for the occasion. She wore several layers of fabric and fur, accompanied by a great number of beads and brooches, chains, and pendants on leather strings. 

Her face was painted with intricate detail, black paint forming runes and patterns on her cheeks and forehead. She gave you a jug of hot tea and opened the bundle of clothes Eivor had dropped off earlier, immediately calling out in joy at the fine quality and beautiful colors. 

“You are going to make a wonderful Raven. Strong-willed and sweet-tempered, generous and empathetic, giving and driven at the same time. You and Eivor will be unstoppable.”

She asked you to stand up and gently lifted your tunic over your head, then she motioned to the back of the room in which a wooden tub filled with steaming water and dried flowers stood waiting for you. 

“For me?” You could hardly believe your luck. When had you last bathed? It seemed years away. 

Valka sang for you while you soaked in the hot bath, then she used a soft cloth to clean your body before washing your hair with pine soap and combing it thoroughly until it was free of tangles and knots. 

You lost all reservations with her, gladly standing naked in the middle of the warm, cozy room while Valka rubbed scented oils into your legs and arms before drawing sigils on your palms and feet with a red oil mixture. She also drew a straight line down your spine and a rune on each of your shoulder blades. When the mixture had sat on your skin long enough to stain it, she wiped it off with a warm, wet cloth, leaving behind reddish-brown marks. 

While she helped you dress, she explained that it was not necessary for everyone to undergo these rites before being welcomed into a clan, but because she had seen your future and because you would not only be a servant to the clan but Eivor’s right hand, she had asked Sigurd to do this her way. You were extremely grateful for her, not only because you were clean and smelled good for the first time in forever, but also because she helped to calm you down; she let you breathe and be present in the moment. 

Your hair was still slightly damp when you were fully robed and decorated with your new brooches. Valka gently ran her fingers over your scalp, massaging a small amount of oil into your roots and smoothing out your hair so she could braid it. She parted it in the middle, then she braided it backward on either side, only taking small strands from the top of your head and along your temple so the rest of your hair could fall freely. This way, it could not disturb your face, but instead hung down your back, long and shiny. 

Finally, Valka rubbed a red powder mixed with a drop of oil into your cheeks and dabbed it on your lips. She stepped back to take in her work and nodded with deep satisfaction. 

“You look beautiful, fairer than the dawn, and graceful as a dove.” You could swear that there was a twinkle in her eye. How did she come to know those things?

There was a knock at the door and Valka’s smile grew wider. 

“Come in, Eivor!”

The blonde warrior entered with snow in her hair and a confused look on her face.

“How did you know it-” She froze when she saw you, her mouth hanging open in awe.

You felt strange, as if you were suddenly a different person than you had been the last few days. You lowered your head to look at your clean, soft hands, then you gazed up at Eivor through your eyelashes. She looked like she did not know where to put her hands and finally resorted to pressing them to her chest. Valka seemed greatly amused.

“Y/N, you look…” Eivor nervously ran her fingers through her hair. “You look wonderful. People won’t recognize you.”

You did a little curtsey, partly serious, partly just to provoke a reaction from your drengr who still looked like she had been struck by thunder. Without even thinking or hesitating, Eivor bowed deeply before you. Valka was stifling a laugh. 

“Shall we, ladies?” The seeress motioned to the door and you picked up your coat from her bed. Eivor was next to you in a heartbeat, taking your coat from you and holding it open for you to slip in. Valka blew out most of the candles and let you both pass her, then she stepped out into the night behind you and closed the door. Thick snowflakes were dancing through the air and you could hardly see the rest of the village. Luckily, a few torches were lit along the path.

You walked in silence, each preoccupied with her own thoughts. You passed Eivor’s hut and asked her whether Birna was safe inside. Eivor assured you that the cat had a whole bed, a fireplace, and some fresh meat all to herself. You were just about to joke about Birna being the queen of this village when you lost your footing in the thin layer of fresh snow.

You were sure you were going to land on the hard frozen ground and have to suffer through the ceremony with a wet behind, but Eivor caught your arm just in time and pulled you up with an iron grip. She held you upright with both hands until you completely regained your balance. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, sounding seriously concerned.

“Not at all, thanks to you.” You sighed and wiped your damp hands on your dress. “I will be more careful where I step now.”

You made it to the longhouse in one piece. Two warriors stood at the entrance and welcomed you with respectful nods. You entered first, Valka and Eivor walked behind you side by side. Most conversations slowly came to a halt as people started noticing you and you instinctively straightened up, glad to have two more strong women behind you. 

Sigurd and Randvi sat at the high table, both raising their heads at the same time to look at you and going through the same expression of wonder, realization, and astonishment. You heard someone beside you mumble the words “a queen,” someone else spoke of a “wife” which you hoped was merely a wish and not of any concern in your near future. 

Aelfric, Hal, and Lewin were standing next to a column in front of Sigurd’s table. They were wearing colorful tunics and woolen trousers and their hair and beards were also washed and freshly trimmed. Someone in the back whistled and you turned your head to see Norvid, the man who had called you “Milady” at the feast last night. 

After your long walk through the middle of the hall, you finally reached Sigurd’s table. You did another curtsey and bowed your head before Sigurd and Randvi. Eivor stepped next to you, squeezed your shoulder, and gave you a last encouraging smile before rounding the table and sitting down next to her brother. Valka passed you and greeted Sigurd before announcing that everything was prepared for the ceremony. He thanked her with a generous nod and she took your hand and pulled you with her to the other three that were waiting. 

Sigurd stood up and everyone turned to listen to him.

“Welcome, Ravenclan and friends, travelers, and merchants. Welcome to those who have decided to join us today.” He nodded in your direction. “It is a great honor to see people value our clan so much that they choose to live with us, strengthen our ranks, teach us new ways, and make Ravensthorpe a better place. I recognize you, Aelfric and Hal, Lewin, and Y/N, as equals tonight. As requested by our dear healer and seeress Valka, we shall begin with you, Y/N.” He rounded the table to stand in front of it, then he raised his hand and gestured for you to stand before him. 

A young woman placed a pillow on the floor in front of Sigurd and Valka led you to kneel there, standing side by side with Sigurd and facing you. The seeress took a small tin from a pouch on her belt and dipped her fingers in it. It was a thick reddish-brown mixture, similar to the one she had used to paint your skin earlier. 

Sigurd spoke again, his voice suddenly changing from his hard, brusk English with the strong Norwegian accent to his mother tongue, foreign and melodic. He almost sang the words, and even though you did not understand a single word, it felt like his voice was completely surrounding and encasing you, changing something deep within you and opening up your mind for the things that were to come. 

After a while, Sigurd stepped back and Valka took over. She was now actually singing, her loud and clear voice filling the room as she walked around you and sang to the bystanders who joined in with cheers and sounds of agreement. You had to hold out your hands to show the sigils on your palms and Sigurd accepted them with another verse, then you turned your hands and Valka drew new sigils on the backs. 

As you looked up at Eivor, you stopped breathing. She had a wonderful glow about her, charged from the inside with a flame burning so bright you could see it shining from her eyes, warming you through her gaze. Her face was smooth and carried an expression of complete, utter serenity and happiness. She drew her thumb over her bottom lip, then she gave you the most beautiful, genuine smile you had ever seen on her.

You, too, had to smile and lowered your head again as Valka began to sing louder, holding both her hands over your head and the people around you began singing with her. They knew the words well and you even heard a few of them sing harmonies to the prime melody. The longhouse was filled with the beautiful sound of their voices, with smoke and incense, with clapping and laughter and happiness. 

Valka took your hands and helped you up, then she kissed you on both cheeks and beamed at you.

“Welcome to the Ravenclan, Y/N. May you light our path with your grace and radiance.”

Everyone cheered and raised their horns and jugs to you, then you stepped forward to shake Sigurd’s hand. Randvi now also came around the table, a wooden bangle with intricate golden engravings in her hands. She gave you a warm smile and an almost unnoticeable nod. You both knew and recognized your places here now, your roles in relation to Eivor.

“Welcome, Y/N, to our clan. From now on you will be under our protection and responsibility.” She slipped the ring over your hand and further up until it fit perfectly around your arm just above your elbow. You could feel its warmth through the fabric of your dress; Randvi must have held it in her hands for some time. She stepped back and stood proudly next to Sigurd as everyone cheered for you once again.

You moved to the side, leaning against a column and catching your breath as your three friends stepped in front of Sigurd and Randvi. While Sigurd and Valka started singing together this time and Valka painted the backs of their hands with her red paste, you let your eyes wander around the room. You were surprised by a familiar face in the back of the hall. 

Eda sat at the end of one of the long tables, still looking frail and small, but there was a rosy tint to her cheeks and her hands held a jug of steaming hot mead. She gave you a shy smile. You smiled back, eternally grateful to see her in better spirits and no longer on the floor of that terrible cell. She must have come to an agreement with Randvi to live in the settlement, no longer as a prisoner but a guest. You doubted she would actually join the clan soon, but you were glad she was no longer hostile toward the idea of living here. 

When everyone joined into the last song that they had already sung at the end of your ceremony, you watched Eivor. She sang too, her clear baritone making its way through the room to caress your ears and your mind. There was a new spark inside you, curiosity and a great thirst for knowledge about your clan. You wanted to learn their language and their songs, their customs and stories, you wanted to know more about Eivor and her home in the north, about her childhood and her way to becoming the drengr she was now. 

Aelfric, Hal, and Lewin received their wooden bangles. The two stable men’s arm rings were made of dark wood with runes burned into the smooth surface. Lewin’s was covered in some sort of resin, maybe to protect it from any fluids and stains that could appear during his work as a butcher. 

A boy brought four drinking horns filled with ale and Sigurd waved to you over so you would take one of them, your friends doing the same. Everyone raised their drinks and for the first time, you joined into the loud, unison “Skal!”

After everyone had drunk to your health, Sigurd raised a hand and announced: “Now that we have congratulated our four new members into the clan, let us feast, let us drink and share joy and love in the spirit of new beginnings. May we warm this cold winter night with our hearts and spirits!”

With Randvi at his arm, he returned to his seat and patted Eivor’s shoulder while everyone else got settled at the tables and started passing around bread, cheese, and meat. Your friends were marveling at their new jewelry, but you only had eyes for your drengr . She noticed you staring right away and excused herself from her table, rushing in your direction and meeting you at the side of the hall, under the columns and slightly less out in the open than where you had stood before. 

She wrapped you in her arms, picked you up and whirled you around, beaming up at you with eyes full of joy. 

“My precious dove, my beautiful lady - now you are finally, truly at my side. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

She gently put you down and left her hands resting on your waist. You could feel a few people staring at you, but you did not care and pulled her into another embrace. 

“Thank you for everything, Eivor. You freed me,” you whispered into her ear. “I belong at your side, we both know that. We are meant to be.”

You took a small step back to look at her, your heart swelling in your chest. Oh, how you wanted to kiss her. You wanted to jump into her arms and let her carry you wherever she wanted and do whatever she liked to you. You were hers. You leaned in closer, her breath going faster as your gaze wandered to her lips.

A hand on your shoulder suddenly tore you from your trance. You whirled around to see Norvid, grinning widely and opening his arms for you.

“Y/N! Welcome to the Ravenclan, beautiful young lady!”

Before you had any chance to resist, he closed you in his arms and pressed your body tightly to his. You were completely overwhelmed by the touch of this stranger, hanging limply in his arms and wondering how you would get out of this with a shred of dignity left. 

Eivor made that decision for you. She stepped next to him, grabbed his hand and pressed her fingers into the soft spot between his thumb and digit, making him cry out in pain. In one swift motion, she had pulled his arms from your waist and pulled him back with a hand in his hair, hurling him away from you and letting him fall on the floor. 

A few people around you laughed loudly at this little act. Norvid seemed utterly confused, then his expression grew angry. Eivor cut him off before he could say anything.

“You don’t touch a lady without her approval and you most definitely do not crush her like that, you uncouth brute!” She spoke quietly so as to not attract any more attention, but her words cut through the air like daggers. Norvid looked intimidated for a moment, then he huffed and got up, brushing the dust off his trousers before turning on the spot and leaving without another word. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Eivor asked you, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing your upper arm with her other hand. “I should have never let him do that, I apologize for not seeing him coming.”

You still needed to realize what had happened, but you just shook your head. You were already losing herself in her deep blue eyes again. Suddenly you remembered Randvi's respectful nod earlier and how she was sitting next to her husband now, unhappy and alone. Alone after Eivor had ended it with her. You stepped back, freeing yourself from her touch.

“I’m sure he meant no harm. Thank you, Eivor.”

She nodded and asked Lewin to watch over you during the feast, not letting anyone else come too close or get any ideas. He promised to be on his guard, even though you told them you found that ridiculous. You were just some English girl, they would hardly pay you any attention now that you were not even an outsider anymore. 

Eivor stared at you in disbelief.

“You really have no clue, do you? You are by far the most beautiful woman in this room, the most beautiful woman most of these men have ever laid eyes on in their entire lives.” She shrugged and gave you a sympathetic smile. “I can promise you that you will receive at least a dozen marriage proposals by tomorrow night. You are all they are paying attention to.”

She went back to join Sigurd, leaving you completely astonished. Lewin gently took your arm and led you to the table where Aelfric and Hal were already devouring their meals. You noticed you were quite hungry as well and enjoyed some hearty sausages and freshly baked bread alongside the wonderfully cool ale in your new drinking horn. The four of you reminisced about your childhoods at Williamsburg and the feasts and special occasions there. 

Delia had always paid very close attention to the way she looked, often spending days leading up to the celebrations contemplating her dress and hairstyle for the night. Meanwhile, her sister had spent her time outside with you, riding your ponies over muddy fields and steep hills, chasing the chickens around in the yard, or playing ball with Aelfric and Hal. 

“Did you know Eda has finally left her cell?” you asked them and Hal almost choked on his food. 

“She’s out?” he coughed, “She’s out and no one told us?”

“Well, I am telling you now. I do not think she wishes to attract any attention. The only person she has spoken to is Randvi,” you told them and looked around for your old friend. She was nowhere to be seen.

“I think she has already retreated to her quarters, wherever she is staying at the moment. I am sure we will see her soon, let us give her some time to adjust and get her strength back.”

Hal mumbled something into his beard, but they all agreed to give Eda space to breathe. You suggested another round of the dice game they had shown you the other night, but they all immediately protested, complaining about how you had stripped them of all their belongings and left them out in the cold the last time. You laughed and accepted their sentiment - you really had taken everything from them in that last game. 

The rest of the evening went wonderfully. Someone brought a small harp-like instrument, a woman agreed to play the flute, and soon the first courageous people dared to sing, serenading you with tunes they had brought back from all over the world. A few people even made room for dancing and started whirling around, filling the room with more singing and drunk laughter. 

You danced first with Lewin and then with Valka, thanking her for everything she had done for you and for the unwavering trust and faith she had shown you from the first day on. She hugged you tightly, expressing her gratitude for you as well. You had brought excitement, new knowledge, and new life into her existence in this clan and she was happy to call you her friend. 

You were just about to ask her if you could meet her daily from now on and learn more about healing and herbs from her when she suddenly looked over your shoulder and smiled at someone behind you.

“May I?” 

The raspy voice came from behind your left ear and it made your insides melt like candle wax. Valka winked at you. 

“You may,” she said, placing your hand in Eivor’s larger, calloused one. You wrapped your arm around her neck and looked up at her. 

She seemed sober tonight, only a faint note of mead on her breath, her eyes clear and focused. Her hair was plaited back into four long braids and she had smudged a small amount of soot around her eyes. The dark tint only made her sapphire irises shine brighter. 

“How are you feeling?” Her voice was gentle and light-hearted. 

“I feel at home,” you answered. “At peace, finally.”

-

Just a heads up: this is not the end, I still have a few chapters to go! I’d love to hear what you think so far 💘

[criticizing-blogger]

Dean's Promise

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: smut in the beginning, cursing, mentions of absent father

Word count: 2229

Dean and reader meet in a bar one night and they go back to his motel room. In the morning, she finds him gone and she goes on with her life as normal till a couple weeks later when she finds out she's pregnant. With no way of getting a hold of Dean, she goes on with her life. Until a few years later when he shows back up into town.

_______________________________________

Bar glasses clinked against each other as toasts were being made. One toast was being made in the far right corner of the bar. A group of three women sat in the booth, chugging their drinks down and slamming their glasses onto the table. They had decided to celebrate (y/n) for her promotion today by getting drunk. What these three friends do best in a small town like this where nothing happens and the only entertainment is getting drunk.

The bell on the door chimed and a man walked in. He pulls on his leather jacket, fixing it as he looks around. He caught the eyes of a few ladies as he walked over to the bar. Sitting on the stool, he looked around once more catching the eyes of (y/n). She looks over at him, a flirty smile appearing on her face. The stare between them broke as her friends started pushing her out of the booth. “Girl, go!”

“Wish me luck, ladies.” she states as she smoothly slides out of the booth. The mysterious man watched her strut her way over and sit in the stool next to him. She smiled looking at his pale green eyes as the bartender came over and asked what he wanted.

“Beer,” he replied. “I want to remember this night.”

“Dean.” The man introduces himself to the woman next to him.

“(Y/n).”

Mouths slamming together, teeth clashing as (y/n)’s back harshly slams against the motel door as their hands explore each other’s clothed body. Dean's mouth leaves her and trails kisses down her neck, looking for her sweet spot. When he found it, he sucked hard causing her to let out soft moans of pleasure. She started to push him away, trying to get his attention but Dean ignored her.

“Dean.”

“Hmm?” he hums as he goes back to her soft lips.

“Dean!” she softly shouts.

He pulls away, a bit startled at her yelling.

She giggles at him before speaking, “don’t you think we should get inside before we start giving people a show?”

“Lets entertain them then,” he chuckles and goes back to sucking hickeys on her neck. She laughs pushing him a little bit away to reach into his left front pocket of his jeans for the motel room key. Her hand grabbed a hold of it and she turned to unlock the door, his arms sneaking around her waist as he kissed the exposed skin of her shoulder and back.

Once the door was open, she grabbed his hand pulling him inside. Dean slams the door shut and pushes her against, shoving his lips against hers again. She pulls at his jacket, him quickly ripping it off as she tugs on his shirt; also, taking it off. Dean rips open her shirt, the buttons to her blouse flying everywhere, her bra barely covering her breasts that were spilling over the cups. He grabs at them as she leaves hot, open kisses down the middle of her chest and towards her jeans. He unbuttons them, pulling them down to her knees.

She lifts one foot up to take off her shoe, taking off the other one after, before taking off her jeans, throwing them across the room along with her shoes. Dean grabs a hold of her hips, keeping her still against the door and kisses right above her panty line under her belly button. She bit her plump bottom lip as he slowly pulled her underwear down her legs. She could feel herself becoming wetter and wetter by the thought of him eating her out.

He pulled them off, throwing the article of clothing across the room. He slides his hands to her thighs massaging them as he pulls them apart. Dean lightly trails kisses up her inner thighs before softly kissing her clit. She lets out a quiet moan, already feeling sensitive. He smirks, looking into her eyes and licks a stripe up her pussy, causing her to moan out, surprise. He lets out a chuckle as she tugs on his short hair impatiently. All she wanted was for him to make her feel good. Make her cum till she cries from being overly sensitive. And for him to keep going.

Dean grips her hips tightly pushing her against the door to keep her from thrusting forward and starts eating her out, slowly at first. Teasing the woman till she can’t handle it. He kept slowly messing with the woman above him till she harshly tugs his hair, begging him to stop teasing. He knew she didn’t want him to be slow, but he wanted to make this last all night. He has plenty of time to make her wetter than any man has had, especially since they have all the time in the world.

“Dean, please!” she begs after several minutes of his nonstop teasing. “Stop teasing!”

He decided to listen. He ran his middle finger up and down her slit, coating the finger in her wetness before putting it in her. She starts to let out moans as he attaches his lips to her to clit suckng while thrusting his finger in and out. He still had one hand tightly gripping her hips, which may leave bruises, to keep pushed against the motel room door. Not that he didn’t mind, it’ll be one of the many reminders of this night. Dean was planning on making sure she remembered every detail of what’s to come tonight. He will make sure that the next time she sleeps with other men that she will think of tonight. How she’ll think of his hands feel roaming her body, his mouth leaving bruises in their wake, the way his body feels against hers, and he feels inside her.

(Y/n) moans got louder as Dean felt her clench around his fingers. He knew she was close so he pulled away. She lets out a whimper and looks down to glare at him. The light hit his chin showing her juices running down. She watched as a drop ran down his chin to his neck. She knew she was wet, but not that wet. That’s exactly what Dean wanted. He wiped his chin and stood wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close and capturing her in a desperate kiss.

He let her go and stepped away to pull the rest of his clothing off as she reached behind herself to unhook her bra. She stared into his green eyes as she revealed the rest of her body to him. Dean licked his lips as he reached for her, pulling her back into a short kiss before pushing her onto the bed. She leans up onto her elbows, biting her lip as she admires Dean’s chiseled body.

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

She rolled her eyes and fully lays down. “Less talking, more doing.”

“Yes. ma’am.” He leaned above her, quickly kissing her neck before lining up with her entrance. He slowly pushed in watching as her head fell back and her mouth opening wide. He lets out a gasp of breath from how tight she is. Once he was sheathed inside, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as if it was possible. He slowly started thrusting, testing the waters first. But she whimpered and thrusted up towards him, impatient, wanting more than what he was giving her.

So, he fully thrusted out before slamming into her causing her to scream out. He was pretty sure the whole motel heard. Maybe the next town over. But neither of them cared cause they were both only together to get what they wanted. A one time meeting and they never have to see each other again. Or that's what they both thought for now.

Dean started thrusting faster. She wraps her arms around his back as she lets out loud moans into one of his ears. Dean could feel her clenching around his member making him slam harder into her. He slows down and sits up. He grabs both her legs and puts them on his shoulders before thrusting into her again. She let out louder moans, now he was sure the whole motel could hear, at the new position. Her hands gripping the sheets tightly as her head falls back. Dean could feel she was getting closer and closer.

Both of her legs fell after a few minutes of his hard thrusting and with a loud cry, she came. Dean soon came after off, dropping on top of her body; both of them sweating. He rolls off of her and lays for a few. He turns his head to find her already asleep and a smile grazes his face without him realizing it. He brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Dean could feel his heart pounding and butterflies erupting in his stomach. But he then realized what he was doing and quickly pulled his hand and turned to face the other way.

* * *

“Noah!” (Y/n) yells walking after her three-year-old who took off for the playground. He ignored her and started climbing. She rolled her eyes, chuckling and sat on a park bench to keep an eye on him. Every time she looked at him, he reminded her of the man she met that one night. They were so alike. He has his hair, his smile, his attitude despite Dean not being around for Noah to catch onto.

Everyday for the last few years since finding out she's pregnant, she thought of Dean. She would drift off randomly during the day, dreaming about the night of meeting in the bar. She doesn’t regret it. That night gave her a gift. The most wonderful and beautiful gift she has ever received, and she wouldn’t have done that night any different. (Y/n) accepted the fact, long ago, that she knew she was in love with that man. At first, she tried to deny it but eventually, she accepted it.

The woman tried doing research on her computer but there was nothing about him. It was like he didn't exist. That made her want to know more.. But how could she when there was no evidence of him online like there normally would be with lots of people. At some point, she had to accept she would never be able to find out who he is and would never see him again. She hated that her son wouldn’t be able to meet his father.

Until somebody sat next to her on the park bench.

She stilled, somehow knowing it is him.

She slowly turned her head to see him looking straightforward at the playground. Knowing who he’s looking at, she swallowed, her mind going blank.

“He’s mine, isn’t he?” he quietly asked. He already knew the answer. The kid looked exactly like him. But Dean didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want ties to the kind of world he lives in. But now, he knows he has no choice.

“Yes,” she whispered, looking down at the ground before looking back at him. She could feel tears welling in her eyes for never being able to tell him he has a child. There were doubts in her mind she didn’t want to believe. What if he doesn’t want Noah?

Dean was still looking at Noah. He's beautiful, he thought, a small smile appearing on his face. Tears formed in his eyes and ran down his face. She noticed him crying and she finally let her tears out. A large smile made its way onto her face, all doubts and bad feelings leaving her body. “Would you like to meet him?”

Dean couldn’t speak so he just nodded, wiping his face. She stood, wiping her tears and walked over to her son who was climbing down a net. He jumped off it and ran to his mom. He hugged her legs and started babbling about the slide as it was his favorite thing to play on. She smiled and bent down to talk to him. She told him there was a man she wanted him to meet and pointed at Dean. Dean waved when Noah looked at him. He looked back at his mom and asked who he is. She grabbed his hand and walked him over to Dean.

Dean stood when she got there. Noah hid behind her legs, his head peeking out. Dean bent down, giving him a small, friendly smile. “Hi there.”

Noah stared at him for a moment then shyly smiled. “Hi.”

“I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

“Noah.” he answered, less scared but still hiding behind his mom. “Who are you?”

Dean looked up at (y/n) and she nodded, answering the question that was apparent on his face. Dean looked back at his son. “I’m your dad.”

Noah’s eyes furrowed in confusion. He didn’t know what to think, but he felt confused, then happy. He lived a few years without a father and now he has one. He ran out from behind his mom and into Dean’s arms, wrapped his tiny arms around his neck as Dean’s arms wrapped around him. Noah whispered as tears rolled down his face, “please don’t leave.”

Dean was shocked at what he said and squeezed him harder. “I won’t. I will never leave you or your mom. I promise.”

_____________________________________________________

DEAN X READER TAGS

@akshi8278

SUPERNATURAL FOREVER LIST

@hobby27

[sohin-ace]

Headcanons for bucci gang for a selectively mute fem!s/o speaking for the first time and their first words to them were the words "I love you so much" paired with a pure and genuinely happy smile 💝💗💝💖

This is THE CUTEST THING!

This hit a bit too close to home and I cried a bit while writing this.

I'm sorry it took so long, I wanted to take my time on this one. Hopefully you'll like it!

Bucci gang w/ a selectively mute S/O speaking for the first time HC

Bucciarati:

When you first joined, Bruno insisted to take you to a professional to maybe do something about your mutism.

He felt concerned and a bit defeated when you refused, but he didn't push it. After all, it didn't affect your performances on missions or anything.

"If you don't feel comfortable, you don't have to say anything, amore."

He knew that it hurt you just as much as it hurt him, but again, he would never force you out of your comfort zone.

One night, Bruno stayed in his office to take care of endless paperwork, as usual.

It was around 3 a.m. when he heard a gentle knock on his door.

When you shyly entered and closed the door behind you he was surprised to see you'd still be awake.

He got up and joined you halfway when you had slowly reached out to him. He could read it in your eyes, you had something important to tell him.

Worried, he approached you and held your arm as you said, soft and strained.

"I... Love you... So.. Much, Bruno." You had accompagnied your words with a beautiful yet shy smile and Bruno's eyes widened.

He couldn't contain his gasp as he gripped both your arms tightly.

"Y/N... What... What did you- Did you just-... I'm losing my mind... C-could you say that again?! Oh please God, let me hear it again-"

You were shocked by his reaction.

The usually so calm and composed Bruno Bucciarati was sounding so desperate and in the verge of breaking down.

He softened his eyes on you, but you could see from the way his chest heaved uncontrollably that he was bottling his emotions.

He gently held your face and leaned your forehead against his.

"You are so strong, my Y/N... It must have been so hard for you..."

His hair tingled your face and when you moved some strands behind his ears delicately, he started shaking.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he let out a hearty laugh, his eyes wet and the lump in his throat painful.

"Tesoro mio, I'm so proud of you. I feel so blessed to hear your angelic voice... Just for me... God..."

He held you flush against him and his mind raced with the sound of your voice.

Abbachio:

You had found him alone one night, a bottle of wine in front of him.

You knew damn well he would drink his blues away when he thought everyone was asleep and you hoped this would cheer him up a little bit.

You walked up to him and he jumped, startled, only relaxing when he noticed it was just you.

He looked down at his empty glass in silence. What could he say? There was nothing to say.

He knew you wouldn't ask questions and he wouldn’t answer them anyway. You could only silently judge his pathetic, worthless self. Or so he thought.

You carefully snaked you arms around his neck from behind, as gentle as you could be.

"I love you so much... Leone.. Leone..."

His heart almost stopped. He tensed up as his chest started to hurt.

Was he drunk? No, he didn’t even drink that much already, he could hold his liquor way more than that-

"Y/-..."

He could barely finish saying your name when he turned his head to look at you, a sweet and genuine smile gracing your face.

He stood up so abruptly he almost knocked you and his chair down as he pounced on your smaller form.

He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched your shirt in his fists, desperately clinging onto you as he buried his crying face in your neck. Gosh he couldn't let you see him like this.

But at the same time, he couldn't remember the last time he had been this happy. Or just happy at all.

"You spoke my name... Of all things... You said my name... Gosh your voice is... I don't deserve you..."

Your voice echoed in his mind and for once, he was so extremely grateful to have Moody Blues to replay that exact moment, over and over.

He couldn't get enough of it.

He replayed your words before sleeping, when he woke up, when he felt like drinking...

Giorno:

Giorno was a fairly quiet person himself.

Due to his background he grew to know to stay silent when necessary, so he understood you.

He related to you a lot, never pushed your boundaries to speak up and made it easier for you by asking 'yes or no' questions.

It didn't change the fact that in his eyes, you were a beautiful and strong person, worthy of love and respect.

Still, he wished you would open up to him one day.

You two were just peacefully watching the horizon, the breeze and quietness of the city making the moment very romantic.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"

He did not expect an answer of course, but he still loved to speak to you, as he knew you were always listening.

You looked at him dead in the eyes and you choked a small hesitant gasp, still unsure of yourself.

He leaned down. "What's wrong, amore?"

Upon seeing his soft green eyes, you felt encouraged and spoke up while fidgeting with his blonde braid.

"I love you so much... Giogio..."

His eyes widened and his lips parted, completely taken aback. But upon seeing the adorable, sweet smile you were gifting him, he could hardly control back his actions.

He instantly held your face and brought you in for a passionate and loving kiss that spoke all the words for him.

You had felt his tears streaming on your own face, but he was sure to not show them to you as he immediately held you against him after pulling away.

"So brave... To speak your confession to me like this... My angel..."

Mista:

Mista was leisurely chilling on the couch, drinking some soda when you sat down next to him.

"Sup babe?"

You tugged on his shirt and he automatically leaned down to your level, not without a little hum of confusion.

Oh, did you want to kiss him? Haha, cute.

But then you gently cupped his ear and leaned your lips towards him.

"I... Love you... so much..." The last words died in a soft whisper.

When you let go of him to see his reaction, he didn't budge a muscle.

He dropped his drink and spilled it all over his pants and the floor. Oh but he didn't even care, he was completely stunned.

He would have been frozen in place till the end of time if you didn't shake him out of it.

"B-babe- oh my god... OH MY GOD HOLY FUCKING- Y/N !!!"

He litterally jumped out of his seat and howled to the whole headquarter.

"YOU TALKED!!?? MY BABY SPOKE WORDS HAHAHA HOLY SHIT BRO OH MY GOD!!! YOOO EVERYBODY COME HERE!!!"

The Pistols flew out everywhere and cheered with their user who was still jumping and grabbing at his head in pure euphoria.

He couldn't stop laughing and he tackled you down on the couch, holding you tight like you would disappear.

"You are so amazing, Y/N, my baby, oh my god, I love you too-"

He couldn't stop peppering your face with kisses after that.

Narancia:

Spare this boy. He was especially sensitive to your condition.

Why didn't you speak to them? Bucciarati said you could talk, but you didn't?

No matter how many times he was explained the situation, he didn't get it.

He always tried to make you laugh, and joked around. It didn't make you talk, but surely it made you fall for him.

He eventually accepted the silent treatment but still asked you so many questions.

"What's your voice like?" "Do you have an accent?" "Were you always mute?" "What do you scream when you stub your toe?"

One random day you approached him and hugged him very suddenly.

"O-oh- What's going on cutie?"

He had a goofy smile on his face and reciprocated the soft embrace before you backed up a bit, looking into his eyes.

"Narancia... I love you... So.. So much..."

...Was it real? Was this really happening?

He let out an incomprehensible yelp and stuttering sounds of confusion and shock.

"E-eeh.. Whaa-.. Uh... Whu... Ah-..?!"

He cupped his face, covered his mouth, grabbed his head, he didn't know what to do, how to react, he was so shaken and distraught.

He eventually started to sob loudly and his eyes watered freely. He was so moved.

"Your voice, Y/N- your voice..!"

His own voice cracked into a high pitched squeak and he grabbed your shoulders, hanging his head low and broke down completely.

You carefully patted and carressed his arms and back in comfort.

"Y/N! Y/N! YOUR VOICE IS SO PRETTY OH MY GOD PLEASE SAY SOMETHING ELSE PLEASE PLEASE IT'S BEAUTIFUL YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL DAMN-"

He was so scared it would be the first and last time he ever heard you.

It was so difficult to calm him down.

Fugo:

He actually made a lot of research on selective mutism to understand what it's like, what causes it etc.

He felt concerned that you would have to go through something like this when you were such a good and kind person.

He liked how your silent calm nature contrasted with his own angry one and he was thankful to have someone like you to help him tone down.

You had come up behind him one day after he got extremely frustrated with Narancia.

He was fuming and clearly, whatever you wanted right now, he was not in the mood for it.

You only grabbed his hand gently and rubbed the back of it, sending him a sweet smile.

"I love you... So, so much..."

He flinched and subconsciously clenched your hand. Hard.

What was that? WHAT WAS THAT?

His eyes were wide as saucers and his entire body stopped responding.

"...Y/N?" He called weakly, thinking foolishly that maybe that wasn't really you in front of him.

You sweetly caressed his cheek and he looked like he was going to pass out.

Everytime he tried to form words, they would come in short breaths. He was so overwhelmed, he had such a difficult time processing his emotions.

For the first time, you saw him smile a genuine smile of happiness as he shakily put his hand over yours holding his face, nuzzling into your touch.

"I... I love you too... You are so incredible, you sound so much better than I ever expected."

Trish:

Trish always tried her best to make you speak.

She knew she shouldn't push you, but she wanted you to feel okay and safe with everyone.

She was a bit shy herself and didn't have the best background for growing up into a loud person.

One day, you went to her and grabbed her attention. When she turned around, and you finally spoke your love to her, so softly, so quietly, she immediately jumped.

"I... I love you Trish... So, so much."

"Wha-... What did you say...?" She is breathless and can't help but cover her mouth in pure shock.

Surely she hallucinated just now, right?

You grin at her dumbfounded expression and her mouth opens and closes as she doesn't even know what to say or where to start.

This is not like she was used to being told she was loved, but from you? This was like a dream!

You noticed the tears brimming in her eyes and she bit her lips before she buried her face in her hands.

You had to take her in your arms and hold her tight while she sobbed.

It's only when you start patting her back gently that she realises this isn't a dream.

She immediataly coils her arms tightly around your neck and stutters, overwhelmed.

"I can't believe it, I can't believe it, I can't believe it-"

You chuckle quietly and she cries even harder when she finally hears your laughing voice.

[even-after-a-millennia]

For Family

I wrote my first Old Guard fic!  I was inspired by @bestillmyslashyheart​‘s fic “under the sea” found here as well as @under-jailbreak​‘s post here.  

You can keep reading it below or read it on ao3 here.

The man arrived in the middle of the night.  Sebastien startled awake when he heard the front door open, still fresh from the battlefield where any noise could mean death.  He took a moment to take stock of his surroundings.  He was alone in the room where before, he and the two women had been sleeping.  The two other women who were also immortal.

Just like him.

He collapsed back into bed, hand over his eyes as reality hit him once more.  He had died.  He had felt life leave him.  Then suddenly, inexplicably, he was taking a gulping heave of air in, suddenly alive again.  He had seen two women in between death and life.

Less than two weeks later, they found him, drinking every bit of alcohol he could find and lying in a gutter.  The women, Andy and Quynh, took him back to their dwelling to sleep it off.  The answers he got when he was sober again made him wish for more to drink.

He couldn’t die.

“What of my family?” he asked immediately.

The look on Quynh’s face was enough, but Andy answered, “No.  Only you.”

He had stopped asking questions after that.

Sebastien now listened to the voices in the hall.

“Thank you for coming, I know how you hate to stop searching.” Quynh’s measured tone was affectionate as it was cautious.

“I dreamed there was a new one,” an accented voice replied.  Italian, Sebastien guessed.

Sebastien got out of bed and walked to the doorway.  There were three people in the hall, Andy and Quynh and the newcomer.  The man immediately noticed Sebastien and nodded to him.

“Nico, this is Sebastien le Livre.  Sebastien, this is Nicolò di Genova.  He is one of us,” Andy said.

“Hello,” Sebastien said, nodding back to the man.

It was odd.  The man, Nicolò, had kind but hollow eyes.  He looked like he didn’t eat enough, cheeks thin as the rest of him.  And he seemed curled into himself, like the act of standing tall was beyond him.  But he looked at the two women with affection in his gaze even as it seemed to hurt to do so.

Sebastien didn’t know what to make of him.

Nicolò asked Andy and Quynh something in rapid fire Italian and they responded just as quickly, making it hard for Sebastien to follow.  He caught random words “dream” and something that sounded like a name, but it was so quick, he couldn’t be sure.

Turning back to Sebastien, Nicolò smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  “I am sorry to disturb your sleep.  Please, don’t stay up on my account.”

Sebastien nodded and took his words as a dismissal.  He went back to bed but it took a long while for him to be able to get back to sleep, hearing the murmur of voices in the kitchen without being able to make out the words.  Finally, his eyes slipped closed and stayed there, falling into an uneasy sleep.

It was like when he died.  He saw someone else.  A man with curly hair and a smile that split his face and brightened his eyes.  He saw Nicolò, but he looked different, happier and full of life.  Full of love.  Then they were in chains, then dying by noose, by fire.  Finally, the man was torn away from Nicolò, who was screaming, eyes filled with tears, spilling unobserved down his face.  

“Yusuf!” Nicolò screamed again and again, thrashing against the chains holding him back, blood dripping from his wrists.  Sebastien heard something crack, but the man paid the pain no mind, only fought harder.

Sebastien started twitching in his sleep as he saw the man, Yusuf, being dragged to a waiting iron maiden.

“Nicolò, Nicolò, I love you!  My love!  Nicolò!” Yusuf shouted.  It wasn’t in English or French, not even Italian, but in the dream, Sebastien somehow understood him.

The iron maiden closed.  The men both still screamed each other’s names. Yusuf’s cries resounded in his cage. 

Then Yusuf was on a boat, beating against the metal around him.

Then he wasn’t on the boat anymore.  Water was everywhere, saturating his clothes, closing around him, invading his lungs.

He died.

And died.

And died.

Sebastien awoke with a gasp and a shudder before leaning over the cot he had been sleeping on and vomiting onto the floor.  He was surprised to find his sick made up of food and not water, still so immersed in the dream.

There was a clatter from the next room over, then the other immortals rushed into the room.  Andy took one look at Sebastien and the mess on the floor and left again.  Quynh followed.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastien said, gasping.  “Horrible dream.”

Andy came back in with a cloth and started wiping up the mess.

“You saw Yusuf, didn’t you,” Nicolò said and it was a statement, not a question.  Andy glanced at Nicolò, then Sebastien, then quietly left the room.

Sebastien stared at him, then nodded.  “He was with you…  You both died so many times.  Then…” he broke off, haunted by the screams still echoing in his head.

Nicolò nodded.  “He was taken from me.  I’ve been looking ever since.”

“When was that?” Sebastien asked, unable to be more specific.

“1614.”

“Over two hundred years?!  He’s been down there for - oh God,” Sebastien said, ready to vomit again.  The only thing that stopped him was the broken look in Nicolò’s eyes.  Sebastien feared losing his family, but Nicolo looked like he already had. 

“Please, is there anything you can tell me from the dream?  You saw him, yes, but what was around him?  Try to remember,” Nicolò encouraged gently.

Sebastien took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  “The coffin was covered in rust.  The chains as well.  It was dark and cold and -” he broke off shuddering.

Nicolò’s head drooped.  Sebastien felt horrible that he didn’t know more, that he couldn’t help more.

“Let’s get you some tea,” Nicolò said, standing.

Quynh already had the tea steeping when they arrived in the kitchen.  She poured for everyone and Andy put a splash of alcohol in Sebastien’s mug.  He silently saluted her before raising it to his lips and drinking.

“He saw Yusuf,” Quynh said, and again, it wasn’t a question.

Nicolò nodded, then let out a breath, putting his head in his hands.

“At the very least,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke towards the floor, “we know he is still alive.”

Andy nodded.  “For now, that is enough.”

__________________________________________

The dreams became depressingly normal to Sebastien.  He had the small consolation in knowing that his constantly drowning companion could also see what he saw.  Andy and Quynh and Nicolò.  Sunshine and wine and good things in life.  Sebastien tried to push them down whatever strange connection was between him and Yusuf.  But mostly, he tried to send the moments he spent with Nicolò, as he knew those would be what Yusuf would cling to the most.  Nicolò quietly laughing at something Andy had said.  Nicolò sleeping.  Nicolò sparring with Quynh.

Nicolò hated to be away from the search, but agreed to stay a fortnight to help acclimate Sebastien to his new existence.  He also seemed to hope that Sebastien’s dreams would give him a new clue as to search for his love next.  No matter how minute, Sebastien tried to share every detail he remembered.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

Sebastien gasped awake the day before Nicolò had planned to leave and immediately sprang out of bed.  Andy and Quynh startled awake across the room, but he paid them no mind.

“Where is Nicolò?” he asked, looking around.  He burst out of the bedroom and found Nicolò at the dining table, whittling.  At Sebastien’s sudden entrance, he stopped and stared at him with wide eyes.

“What is it?  Is it Yusuf?  Does he live?” Nicolò asked, standing.

Sebastien couldn’t keep the huge, manic smile off his face as he crossed to Nicolò and clasped his hands.  “Nicolò, I felt him breathe.”

Nicolò looked at him blankly.

“I felt him breathe air,” Sebastien said.

Nicolò blinked.  Once.  Twice.  Then his eyes widened as the significance hit him.

“He is out?” he asked.

“I felt the moment his head broke the surface.  I felt his first free breath.  He is out of that cage.  He is free,” Sebastien said, unable to stop his eyes from tearing up.

“Santa Maria, Madre di Dio,” Nicolò whispered, his own eyes welling with tears.

They collapsed into each other.  It didn’t matter they had known each other a short while.  It didn’t matter that Sebastien had only known the pain of Yusuf’s plight for a fraction of the time Nicolò had been tortured with it.  They both shook with relief and tears until more arms wrapped around them and they both turned to Andy and Quynh, who had worry etched into their faces.

“He is out, he is free,” Nicolò sobbed and Quynh gave a cry before embracing Nicolò herself.  Andy inhaled sharply like she had been the one to finally breathe freely after centuries and wrapped her arms around the two of them, her hand cupping the back of Nicolò’s head.  They broke apart, all smiling tearily.

Sebastien grabbed glasses and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, filling them.

“A toast,” he said, handing them around.  “To Yusuf’s freedom!”

They all raised their glasses, then drank deeply.

____________________________________________

One would think that once Yusuf was out of the coffin, the dreams would get easier.  One would be wrong.

For three nights afterward, Sebastien was subjected to the agony of Yusuf getting to shore from wherever he had been.  He would swim and fight exhaustion, eventually giving in and attempting to float for a while, only to fall asleep and wake to another lungful of water.  How horrible, Sebastien thought, to die over and over for centuries then finally be free, only to die again.  Not truly free from the ocean’s torment.

The fourth night, Sebastien felt sand under Yusuf’s feet.  He saw cliffs overlooking a beach.

Finally, on the fifth night, he saw the name of the town Yusuf had washed up to.

The best and worst part: he was already in France.

They all left together.  Nicolò pushed them to travel quickly, though it wasn’t as if any of them wished to dawdle.  Andy and Quynh had a tightness around their eyes as they moved across France.  Sebastien tried to stay calm, but he had a hard time when everyone else was so on edge.  

Sebastien dreamed Yusuf had managed to find a kind farmwife that let him trade work for food and shelter.  He saw the town name and it seemed like Yusuf was focusing on it, trying to push it down their connection.  In turn, Sebastien tried to tell him they were coming, Nicolò was coming.

They arrived late at night to the town Sebastien had seen.  They pushed their horses forward one more time, until they found a farmhouse that matched what Sebastien had seen in his dreams.  There was a barn a ways away, across a small field.

There was a fire burning just outside it.  There, a single man sat.  As the horses cantered closer, he rose and his face was illuminated by the fire.

Nicolò made a noise that Sebastien had never heard from a human and greatly hoped he would never hear again.  It was joy and love and agony all in a single exclamation.  He pulled up his horse as he got closer, leapt from the saddle, and sprinted across the distance between him and Yusuf with his arms outstretched.  Yusuf grinned and ran towards him as well, his arms also open.  The impact of their bodies reconnecting after two centuries was loud enough for Sebastien to hear it as he slowed his horse.  

“Nicolò, amore mio, habibi, I knew you’d find me,” Yusuf said, holding his love tight to him.

Nicolò didn’t seem to be able to speak yet.  By the way his shoulders were shaking, he seemed to be quite overcome with emotion.  Yusuf continued to speak to him, switching from one language to the next, most that Sebastien didn’t know, but the words were not for him anyway.

Nicolò eventually pulled away enough to look at Yusuf’s face, then rested his forehead against Yusuf’s.  “I love you,” he said simply but profoundly.  “I’m sorry I didn’t say it then.”

Sebastien flashed to the moment Yusuf was being dragged away, screaming his love to Nicolò, Nicolò screaming Yusuf’s name back.

“Oh, habibi,” Yusuf said.  He pulled Nicolò in once more.  “You may not have said the words then, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear them.  They are engraved into my heart, my very soul.  I was never without them.”

“Romantic as ever,” Andy said, smiling as if the tears on her face weren’t shining in the light of the fire.

Yusuf pulled away from Nicolò, but kept hold of his hand.  “Andromache,” he said, smiling.  It was a different smile than the one he gave Nicolò, but just as warm.

They embraced, Andy hiding her face in the crook on his shoulder for a moment.  

“Mmm, it is good to see you.  You look good,” he said, moving away to look at her.

She smirked.  “You look alright.”

He laughed and Nicolò had a small smile on his face from the sound.

“Quynh,” Yusuf said, holding out his arms.  She melted into his embrace, rocking side to side as they held each other.  They both laughed softly.

She leaned back to cup his cheek.  “It is good to see you.”

“And you,” Yusuf said, smiling hugely.

He turned to Sebastien, who had just been observing the tender moment.  When their eyes met, Sebastien had a hard time holding his gaze.  He knew this man’s torment, he had felt it, but he didn’t actually know him.

“You must be Sebastien,” Yusuf said, holding out a hand.  “Thank you for the dreams.  They gave me strength.”

Sebastien stepped forward and they clasped elbows.  “It is a pleasure to meet you face to face,” he said truthfully.

Yusuf nodded and stepped back, meeting Nicolò’s chest with his back and settling into the man’s space.  Nicolò settled his hands around Yusuf’s waist and put his chin on his shoulder.  He turned his face and ran his nose up his love’s neck, eyes closing.  Yusuf put his hands over Nicolò and relaxed.

In fact, the whole group had the least amount of tension amongst them since Sebastien had met them.

But standing with them all, Nicolò and Yusuf wrapped up in each other, Andy and Quynh holding hands and leaning against one another, he was suddenly, vividly reminded that while these people were eternal, everyone else in his life was not.  

He felt the sudden need to get to his family.

Even surrounded by his fellow immortals, he felt alone.

_____________________________________

The loneliness remained.

If anything, it got worse.

One by one, his family died.  His wife.  His sons, Jean-Pierre last of all.  Everyone who loved him from before was gone.  He stayed by their sides through each loss, seeing Andy and the others sparingly throughout the years, hating to be away from his family during the time they had left.

Only he and his fellow immortals remained.

Nicolò and Yusuf spent a hundred years after reuniting travelling across Europe, eventually staying in Malta for a few decades.  Andy, Quynh, and Sebastien did what they could to help humanity from the shadows.

After Jean-Pierre died, Sebastien changed his name.  That man had died with his family.

He went by Booker now.

Nicolò and Yusuf joined them after a hundred years and it was a pleasure to get to know the two of them.  Nicolò was a changed man with Yusuf by his side.  While he had never been hugely emotive, he had a different air about him.  Existing didn’t weigh him down anymore.

Booker only wished he could say the same.

They all went to Cuba, then to the United States.  They worked together to fight for what they believed in.  They became closer, a family.  Andy, Quynh, Nicky, Joe, and Booker against the world.

In 2018, Andy and Quynh decided to travel alone for a while, like Nicky and Joe had so many years ago.  Joe and Nicky offered to let Booker stay with them in the meantime, but he declined.  He went back to France.  He drank.  He walked the streets where he had existed as a different man.  He drank some more.

Then he picked up the phone and contacted James Copley.

He liked Copley.  The job they had worked for him had gone well and the man seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.

The man who picked up the phone didn’t sound like the same man he had met a few years ago, but he agreed to meet Booker.

They talked.  About life and death and losing those they loved.  How tired they were.  How they wished they could do more.

“What if I could help?” Booker asked.

“What do you mean?” Copley replied, not understanding.

Booker sighed, then slashed across his palm, barely grunting at the pain it caused.  He held out his palm and watched as Copley saw the skin reform.

“How-?” Copley said, reeling.

“I don’t know.  If I did, I would be able to stop it.  But you might know someone who could find out,” Booker replied.  He tried not to let his desperation show.  He just wanted it to end.

“The others…” Copley said, putting it together.  “Your team-”

“Their existence remains between the two of us, or there will be no accord between us,” Booker said insistently.

Copley nodded.  “I swear it.”

“Good.”

Booker paused and sighed.  “Before I turn myself over to you, could I make a request?”

“Anything.”

“I need one more mission.  Can you find me one?” Booker asked.

“With how the world is today?” Copley asked derisively.  “It won’t be a problem.”

“Merci,” Booker said, raising his glass to salute Copley, who did the same.  Together, they drank.

_____________________________________

It was so good to be with his family again.  There were hugs and laughter and bets placed as Nicky gave Andy a piece of baklava.  Booker let himself revel in the happiness these people brought him, knowing soon enough, he would be leaving them.

Andy was skeptical of Copley, insisting they didn’t do repeats, but finally agreed to listen to him.

He told them of the hostage situation.  The girls who were taken.  Gave them maps and numbers.

Andy couldn’t say no after that.

As they walked away, Booker looked back and saluted Copley, who nodded to him before looking around and waving the other direction, towards where Nicky and Joe had been watching over them.  

They used a helicopter to approach.  Quynh, Joe, and Nicky all had their swords next to their guns.  Andy’s ax was strapped to her back.  Booker had no such antiquated weapon, just prepared explosives as they travelled.  It only emphasized the age difference between them.

They existed for so long before me, he thought.  They can do so again when I am gone.

The mission went along without incident.  Nicky took out the perimeter guards and then they slowly made their way through the compound.  They paused before a door with a pile of shoes next to it.  Joe looked down at it and Booker could see the anguish and anger in his eyes.  Booker looked around and saw the resolve in all his family’s stances.

He blew the door and as one, they burst through where it used to be and immediately moved to take out the guards while putting themselves between the remaining men and the girls huddled in the corner.

Then there were no more guards, just blood and bodies.

They moved the girls to the rendezvous point Copley had set up.  There, they saw the ecstatic reunion of families and their children.

Soon, that will be me and my boys, Booker allowed himself to think.  He felt a deep ache at the thought, but pushed it back.  This was not the time for thoughts such as those.  This was time to spend with the family he had left.

They crashed at a safe house together, drinking and talking until the sun came up.  Laughter rang out many times, affection laced in the tone of all present.

Finally, Booker cleared his throat.  “I think I will go back to France for a while,” he said.  “I wish to go home.”

The others nodded.  

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Nicky asked.

Booker smiled.  “No, thank you.  This is something I will do alone.”

“Well,” Joe said, rising with arms open, “we wish you well until we see you next, brother.”

Booker had to squeeze his eyes closed in the crook of Joe’s neck to reign in his emotions.

Quynh was next.  “Stay well, Booker.”

“You as well, Quynh.”

Andy’s hands cupped his face and he worked to control his expression, lest she sense something wrong.  “We will be here when you are ready, Book.  Come back whenever.”

“Thank you, Andy.”

Nicky was last.  They clasped elbows then pulled each other into an embrace.  Of all his immortal family, Booker realized, he would miss Nicolò the most.

“À la prochaine,” Nicky murmured and Booker could do nothing but nod.

And then he left.

______________________________________

He had been the object of Merrick’s “experimentation” for three weeks when he had a dream.  A soldier, a woman, the red of her blood as her neck bled, her friend’s wide eyes and bloody hands as she tried to keep her alive.

He awoke with a gasp.

“No. No no no,” he muttered, thrashing against the restraints on his chest, wrists, and ankles.  

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, he just woke up like this!”

“Well, sedate him!”

And then there was darkness.

He woke to pain and his own screaming.  When he eventually succumbed and died again, he saw Andy.  He saw her and the new woman, Nile, fight.  Saw Andy’s eyes light up when Nile landed a punch.

When he awoke, he had to admit, anyone who could actually hit Andromache the Scythian had a lot of potential.

The next time he died, he saw the others.  They were eating, telling Nile about their different lives.  It was a balm to see his family again, but it did nothing to release the piercing ache in his chest.

Every time he died on that accursed table, he hoped it would be the last time.

Instead, he dreamed.

He saw his family’s anger.  Why were they angry?  He saw Copley.  What was Copley doing with the others?  Finally, he saw the building he had gone to when he turned himself in and he understood long before he heard the gunshots that pulled him awake.

His family was coming for him.

Andy was the first one through the door.  She incapacitated the doctor who had been torturing Booker before he could say anything.  The others poured in, even Nile.

“Booker!” Nicky exclaimed, looking at him.

“No!  No, you cannot be here!” Booker said frantically.  “They cannot know of you!”

“Too bad, we weren’t going to just leave you here, as they did that to you,” the new woman, Nile, said, gesturing to his body.

Taking a moment to look at himself, he could see why there was so much concern in their faces.  He was covered in dried blood.

“You all shouldn’t have come,” he said sadly.

“What are you talking about?” Joe said, pushing forward and starting to undo the clasps of the binding.  “Of course we would come for you.  They were torturing you, Booker.”

“No, Joe, leave them,” Booker insisted.

Joe stopped and stepped back.

“Booker…” Andy said, considering him in concern.

He forced himself to smile.  “I’m sorry.  This wasn’t a mission that required a rescue.”

“What are you saying, Booker?” Quynh asked.

He saw the moment Andy understood.  She closed her eyes and shook her head.  “No.” 

Booker shrugged as much as he could in the restraints.  “Merrick might know how to end this.  I had to try.”

“You signed up for this?!” Joe exclaimed, gesturing to Booker’s body.

He laughed without any mirth.  “To be fair, I didn’t anticipate how ruthless Merrick would be to get results.”

“This is insanity,” Quynh said softly, stepping forward and resting a hand on his ankle.  “Booker, a final death is not worth this.”

“I just…” he started and that weight he carried around with him overwhelmed him.  The memories of holding his family members’ hands as they died, their angry words asking why, why can’t you save me, we could be together forever, don’t you love me, the hatred he kept inside at the fact he could do nothing, not even comfort them as they left him rose with a vengeance until he couldn’t draw breath.

“I just want to be with them again,” he choked out.

He stared at the ceiling.  He couldn’t bear to look at their faces.

“Could you give us a minute?” Nicky asked the group.  They must have agreed because Booker heard them move away.  His eyes didn’t waver from the ceiling, even as they blurred with tears.

“Booker, look at me, s'il vous plaît,” Nicky murmured.

Booker couldn’t.

“Sebastien.  Please.”

At his old name, Booker moved his head.  Nicky was looking at him, his eyebrows slightly pulled down, which meant he was extremely concerned.

“I am sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t see how much you were suffering.”

“Nicky…” Booker said, unable to handle an apology right now.

“No, please.  Hear me.  When I lost Yusuf, it felt like each breath was an effort.  Existing was just something I continued to do in order to one day see him again.  Yes, I had Andy and Quynh and eventually you, but I felt… heavy.  Existence had a weight to it.”

Booker couldn’t help nodding.

“I know it isn’t a fair comparison,” Nicky continued.  “I got Yusuf back.  Your family is lost to you until you pass on.  But Booker,” he said, clasping one of Booker’s hands in both of his, “know this: we will always be here for you.  We will take the weight as much as we can.  And we will stay here with you until you get to the point that it doesn’t hurt as much to exist.”

“That may take forever,” Booker warned him.

The corners of Nicky’s mouth curled up and his eyes crinkled.  “Luckily, we have time.”

Nicky’s hand hovered over one of Booker’s restraints.  He raised an eyebrow.

Booker looked across the room.  Joe, Andy, Quynh, and Nile were waiting for them, concern, anguish, and love written all over their faces as they looked over at the two of them.

He closed his eyes and pictured his old family.  He tried to remember the good moments, not the bitter ones.  Remember their faces.  Their love.

I’m sorry, ma famille, he thought, it is not yet our time.

Opening his eyes, looked up at Nicky.

“Let’s go, then.”

[bts-roses]

Spilling Coffee | 1

➼ summary: You’ve always prided yourself in being a naturally graceful and reliable person. So an internship at BigHit seemed like a walk in the park. That is, until a certain goof slide-kicks you off your feet and makes your life a whole lot harder.

/

Namjoon is a misunderstood klutz and y/n thinks too much.

➼ pairing: idol!namjoon x intern!reader

➼ genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), idolverse

➼ word count: 3,700

| next

‣

You have always been proud of your natural grace. Throughout your life, it’s granted you the title of being the responsible and reliable one. The one to do the important jobs. You were always the child the teacher would pick to fill a glass of water up for the paintbrushes during art class. You would do that with a smug grin on your face, holding a big ass jar of water with both of your tiny hands. You would hand it to the teacher, whip your pigtails as you turn around and walk back to your seat looking at your jealous classmates like hell yeah I just did that, you bitches could never.

So naturally, finding out you were about to intern in a big entertainment company, you just knew you were going to unquestionably nail it. Being responsible for mundane tasks like going on coffee runs or carrying boxes to different places? Uhh, you lived for that shit.

Obviously, these weren’t the only tasks and they were definitely not going to help you in the long run of your dream profession. But being able to put down that you received work experience from Big Hit Entertainment sure was. And there was an opportunity to get a job there after your internship! And the internship pays really well! And apparently the food in their canteen was pretty good! In conclusion, it was a win-win situation all around. And how hard could it be?

The answer to that was hard. Very fucking hard.

‣

Namjoon has always been in awe of how clumsy he actually was. Even his bandmates wonder how such an intelligent, grown man can be such a dumbass. Whenever he tried to fix something? Boom, it instantly got 10x worse. His fans even call him the God of Destruction. He would be offended by the nickname, but he can’t hate the truth. And the title is pretty badass if you think about it.

He was more of the kid in art class who was always given small jobs like making sure the aprons weren’t tangled up when it was time to put them away. Even though he wanted cooler jobs like holding those cool big ass glass jars, he understood that sometimes it’s just best to mind his own business and do his own designated jobs. You know, for world peace.

But today. Wow. It’s like the gods above are punishing him or something.

He actually woke up feeling pretty good. Today was going to be his day. Or so he thought. His clumsiness, once again, ruins it for him.

Long story short: he accidentally broke a bit of the toilet seat off. In his defence, he really needed a shit and someone left the toilet seat up again. He was definitely not going to fall into the toilet bowl this time. So Namjoon did the only thing a human could do in such a limited space of time: he slam-dunked that toilet seat down as hard as he could. Not his smartest idea. To his dismay, he spent his morning poo hovering over the toilet, with a piece of the seat held in his left hand. Let’s just say the other members were not thrilled when he walked out to the kitchen holding the piece of the smashed toilet seat from one of the most used bathrooms in the house.

After sitting through another one of Seokjin's speeches about the importance of handling things with a bit more caution, Namjoon decided it would be best to go to the company a bit earlier than the others today. Especially when the younger ones wouldn’t stop roasting the shit out of him. It was when he tripped over walking into the company building he thought to himself.

Maybe today wasn’t his day.

‣

This was the tenth day of your internship. And you don’t like to boast but you think you’re owning this shit. Sure, your boss is scary and likes giving you lots of monotonous tasks. But she’s not that bad. Besides, this is what you signed up for! And you’re having fun. Kinda.

“Intern.” You look up from your desk to see a smiling Joowon, one of your coworkers, “Lee is asking for you.”

Giving him a nod, you swiftly get up from your desk. You knock on your boss’ door and walk in when she acknowledges your presence.

“Yes, Mrs Lee?” you say, beaming brightly.

“I need you to go on a coffee run for the marketing team. We have an important meeting regarding TXT’s comeback and I do not want to see anyone slacking. If I do, I will kill someone,” she says looking up from the screen, giving you a small vacant smile. See? She’s warming up to you!

“Of course! Do you want me to buy you a knife while I’m out? Just in case?” You joke while giggling lightly.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” She asks, with no amusement in her face.

You immediately stop laughing. Fuck. Maybe she’s just a tad bit scary. You stiffen a bit and nod ashamed.

“Yeah. I don’t need any of that here” she glances at you up and down and then looks back at her computer, “you should leave now.”

You bow and basically run out of her office. Okay. Fine. She’s fucking terrifying.

You knew working in a big establishment like BigHit was going to be intimidating but not this intimidating. It didn’t help that you had a subliminal fear of attractive people. Of course, you liked looking at them but talking to them made you so nervous. Maybe you should've taken that into account before working in a fucking entertainment company. They were everywhere. At least you were working in the marketing team, where your interactions with the idols were very limited. However, you still would have the odd occurrence with one. On your second day, TXT's Soobin asked you for Mrs Lee's whereabouts. You nearly cried... But let’s not think about that.

Thankfully, your department is quite small and you only had to go get nine iced americanos. The lady at the counter also gave you two paper bags that held eight of them which made your life easier. Since you were feeling fancy and had the room, you got yourself an iced latte. Realising you were a bit short on time, you quickly dashed back to the company.

Entering the building, you check the clock on the lobby wall: fifteen minutes until the meeting starts. Cool. That's fine. You can totally get there before it starts. Totally. Deep breath. You'll be fine. After violently stabbing the elevator button multiple times, you hastily enter and press the floor you needed. Seeing no one was going to get on with you, you push the button to close the doors. Just once. Maybe a few times for good measure. Before the doors shut, you catch a glimpse of the clock again. Thirteen minutes. More than enough time.

When you reach your floor, you check inside the bags to make sure nothing has spilt. You can't help but smile. Look at you. Two coffees in each hand? Not a spill. Holding two bags of coffee? Not a single drop. You really did that. You were that bitch. I am the elite intern. You think to yourself with a chuckle. Then you stop yourself and wince. Jesus Christ. You really needed to get a life.

Remembering your task, you carefully pull out your phone from your pocket to check the time; ten minutes. Just to be safe (and to beat your previous coffee run score of having eight minutes to spare), you speed down the hallway.

You can literally see the glass walls of the meeting room. Not even half of the team is there yet. You were that early. On the opposite side of the corridor, you see your boss, who is facing away from you, and Joowon talking to each other. He glances at you and smiles. You quicken your pace, about to return the smile.

Suddenly, you're seeing him horizontally.

What the fuck? Why the fuck? Oh my God. You're too busy soaking up the mess in front of you that you don’t feel the searing pain on your left ankle. You blink hard and freeze on the floor.

The coffee is spilt. Everywhere.

Shit. You’re gonna get killed. You're gonna get fired. Before you start crying on the ground, the floor starts moving... Wait. Floors don't move. Uuugh. And floors sure as hell don't groan.

You look sideways to realise you're on top of someone's chest. That said someone looks down at you.

Your heart drops.

You jump up to stand and you instantly feel the sting on your ankle. You look at the scene in front of you. You feel like sobbing again. You just spilt your drink all over RM. Fucking Kim Namjoon. You know, the leader of the biggest fucking boy group on the planet? That's the one. You aren’t just going to be fired. You're gonna be banished from Korea. Burned at the stake. Mauled to death.

"I'm so fucking sorry." You burst out, desperately getting back down on the floor to clean up the liquid with your clothes, "I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to."

You warily look at him. He's just lying there in this weird, starfish-like position. Not really moving. Oh my God, you think to yourself. You fucking broke him. Did you kill him?

You stop helplessly scrubbing the floor with your jumper sleeve and shakily ask him, "are you alive?"

Abruptly, pulls himself up in a seated position. You flinch. Fuck. He's gorgeous. Great, now you’re nervous. He stares at you blankly and you wince a bit. You mentally prepare yourself to get screamed at and you feel a sting in your eyes. God, you're about to cry. You’re gonna lose your internship. You’re gonna have no future. You're so fucking terri-

All you hear is a deep chuckle.

"Shit. You've done it again Namjoon" he mutters to himself in disbelief, "Did I hurt you?"

He looks at you in concern and shuffles closer. Carefully, he puts a hand on your shoulder. Well, he’s never seen you before. He glances down at the ID card hanging from your neck. There’s a picture of you grinning cheerfully and your name: Y/n L/n. An intern? He also notices that you don’t have the same red lanyard as the other staff here; you switched yours to an Animal Crossing themed ribbon. Cute. He looks back up and his brows furrow when he sees a tear run down your cheek.

“U-uh. I-I’m fine.” you stutter, not really paying attention and avoiding eye contact. You feel yourself shaking.

“Are you sure? I just completely wiped you out with a sliding kick.” He jokes to try to ease the situation, offering a kind smile. Fuck, he has dimples, you think to yourself. You feel him brush his thumb over your cheek to wipe the stray tear.

“Oh my God. Namjoon-ah are you okay?” your boss asks, pushing past you to check on the man, “What is with this mess? What on earth did you do, intern?”

You stumble upwards, preparing for your death. You close your eyes in anticipation. Here it is. Your life was fun while it laste-

“It wasn’t her fault. And I’m fine. Just a bit of liquid.” You hear him say.

You open your eyes and face them. The idol makes eye contact with you and you quickly divert your eyes down. You feel your face heat up from the sudden attention.

“Namjoon-ah, it’s okay. You don’t need to cover up for her. She’s just an intern.” your boss says, impressed with his supposed kindness.

Excuse me? You look up at her disbelief. He was the one who caused you to fall. Before you’re about to defend yourself, you glance at him again and stop yourself. Oh, what the hell? Fine.

“I’m so sorry! I’ll clean this up straight away!” You shout and bow deeply, accepting the fault. It was just going to be easier this way, you’re just a disposable intern anyways.

Namjoon watches you bow deeply towards them. What? This was his fault.

“Wait, no this was my doin-” He started.

“I really expected better than this, intern.” Mrs Lee sighs in disappointment, not wanting to waste time, “Clean this mess up.”

You bow at both of them again as she walks past you, heading for the meeting room. Well that went better than expected. At least you’re still alive. You sigh weakly and started your hunt for something to help clean the mess up.

Before he could intervene again to clear things up, his phone rings.

“Hyung! Where are you? We need you now, the business call is just about to start.” Jimin shouts down the phone.

Namjoon curses himself. He takes a quick look at your back before running to where he was needed. So much for first impressions. Throughout the call, all he could focus on was the cute intern he wiped out and his coffee-stained hoodie sticking to his chest.

Yup. Today was definitely not his day.

‣

After two weeks of whatever that was, you’ve been trying really hard to redeem yourself. Just a few examples: you started colour coding the meeting notes to make it easier to read; you call the coffee shop ahead of time so your coffee runs take no longer than seven minutes; you bring running shoes to work so for any errands you need to run, you literally run. Oh, and most importantly, you steer the fuck out of Kim Namjoon’s way. This step has been proven difficult because you now see him everywhere. (Apparently, their group is heading into more product deals with different companies so your department is becoming a regular for them).

You tell yourself you aren’t trying to avoid the man because that would be stupid. But you know deep inside you’re just really fucking scared of him. Here are some reasons for your new founded fear:

1. He drop-kicked you down to the floor and you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt like a bitch. You walked with a limp for a whole week. You’re pretty sure you could’ve sued him.

2. He’s the reason Mrs Lee now hates you with a burning passion. (Bit of an overstatement but since when did your mind not blow things out of proportion?)

3. He’s too tall. His mere size towers over you. It’s petrifying.

4. He’s so fucking attractive? Like? Who allowed him to look that good daily? And when he smiles, his dimples show? The thought of them breaks you out in cold sweat.

5. He smells too nice.

6. And oh yeah. Whenever you see each other, he tries to walk up and talk to you.

It scares the living daylights out of you.

‣

Namjoon has never experienced this before.

It’s like he’s the bloody plague. The guilt was eating him alive. For two weeks now he’s been trying to come up and talk to you. And for two weeks you have been running away from him like your life depended on it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Surely you knew it was an honest mistake and he did try to defend you against Mrs Lee. He even apologised, right? Did he apologise? Oh God, he didn’t apologise. He needs to apologise.

“Hyung!” Jungkook pushes him, “Were you even listening?”

Namjoon looks up at the youngest in confusion, “What?”

“He’s too busy thinking about his latest victim.” Jimin teases.

Jungkook laughs with him, “It’s not like she hates you or anything. If you feel so bad about it then just go talk to her and sort it out. You said she was on the marketing floor right? So just go find-”

His words get cut off by his hyung groaning and banging his head down to his table, watching the surrounding objects jump up from the force.

“You think I haven’t tried that?” He mumbles sadly into the wood, “She runs away from me.”

The two younger men look at each other.

“Hyung, you’re totally just overthinking this. She doesn’t run away from you.” Jungkook chuckles, offering a supporting hand on Namjoon’s back.

After a few hours of trying to work on some songs, Namjoon yawns loudly and stretches out his long limbs. From behind him, he hears the two yawn straight after and they all let out a small laugh.

“I think we should call it a day,” Jimin stands up, starting to pack his things, “Yoongi hyung said we were gonna have dinner tonight so we should get going.”

Moving towards the elevator, Namjoon sees you, holding a big stack of papers, from the corner. Shit. Instantly, he pulls the two members in front of him.

“Oh my God, it’s her.” He hides and whispers, even though you are out of ear reach.

Jungkook and Jimin look at the small moving figure, who is currently trying to move hair out of her face with her mouth. So that’s the girl who is clouding their leader’s mind. They watch you a few feet away from the elevator. As if they knew what the other was thinking, they exchange a mischievous look. Without warning, they forcefully drag their hyung forwards before he could process their actions.

Jesus. You whine to yourself. These papers are so fucking heavy. When you hear the ding of lift, you walk in and stretch your pinky to the ground floor button. You move to the back of the elevator, resting your back on the railing. You only have this job to do and you can finally go home. Smiling at the thought, you mindlessly look at your feet, oh and the large feet in front of you. Wait, what?

You look up in shock and meet eyes with your greatest fear. He gives you a nervous smile and you notice the two other attractive people on either side of him. Another fear of yours. (Not the biggest fear at hand but albeit still a fear). God. It’s like you were in a horror movie, where the ghosts were unfairly good looking. You feel your heart speeding. You scream inwardly when you see the idol opening his mouth.

Namjoon stutters and starts when he feels Jungkook hit his back, “Hello aga-”

He feels a gust of wind run past him.

You just sprinted out of the elevator.

As the doors close, the three turn around and watch you racing away. Gobsmacked. Before the doors fully shut, Namjoon is the only one that sees you trip, papers flying everywhere. He lets out a quiet gasp. The small room is silent.

“Well,” Jungkook quietly coughs out, “Maybe she does hate you...”

“You think she hates me?” The oldest pitifully questions and watches Jimin hit the youngest.

“No, don’t be stupid,” Jimin weakly persuades and gives an insincere smile, “She might just be nervous or something.”

Namjoon instantly frowns. She hates me.

‣

You lay face down on the floor, soaking up all the embarrassment of what just happened. Did you just fall? You? Over nothing? What in God’s name is happening to you? You look up and instantly wince. All the documents you organised, sorted and colour-coded are all messed up. There goes your early night.

Picking up the stray papers, you think to yourself: what the fuck is wrong with you? If you weren’t such a big pussy, your life would have been so much easier. You think about all of the time you would have saved if you just walked the quicker route, regardless of whether or not he was in the way. You think about all the plants you wouldn’t have hid behind to prevent his attention. You think about all the information you could’ve learned about your dream job if you didn’t reject the offers just because there was a slim chance of running into him.

At the end of the night, you have one question burning into your mind: why were you so scared of him?

‣

“You like him.” Daeun proclaims. You just told her about your most recent encounter with him.

You stare at the fellow intern in confusion, “What?”

“You have a big fat crush on him.” She repeats, taking a bite out of her lunch, “Just think about it, you said it yourself, your heart races when you see him... So you like him.”

“My heart races because I’m scared of him” You point out.

“No. You dumb bitch. Your heart races because you are nervous.”

Oh. Well, this was not what you were expecting when you asked your friend for advice. You have a crush on Namjoon?

“B-but I don’t know anything about him.” You argue, shaking your head.

“You don’t necessarily have to personally know him to crush on him,” she continues, “You find him attractive right?”

“W-well, yeah I guess so-”

“There you go. We’ve cracked it. You’re just horny for him.”

“The fuck? No, I’m not.” you push her and she laughs.

“I don’t blame you, he walks like he’s got a massive cock.”

You shriek and whack her in detest. She screams jokingly at the pain. When you two look around and notice people staring, you both can’t help but laugh hard.

At 9PM, you were laying in bed, thinking about your friend’s words and you couldn’t help but to be curious about him. Sure, you liked his music as much as the next person but you didn’t know much about Namjoon as a person. Since you just graduated from college, you didn’t have much time to spend on immersing yourself in the world of the BTS. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you start doing research, telling yourself it’ll only take a few minutes.

After watching countless interviews and videos, you wonder how such a person could exist. He’s intelligent, loving, kind, gentle, passionate and- well you just go on for hours. You laugh a bit when you realise his only fault: he’s the biggest fucking klutz.

It hit you at 3AM when you finished watching his UNICEF speech with a big ass smile on your face.

Fuck, you totally have a crush on Namjoon.

a/n: hello! thank you for reading + i hope you’ve enjoyed. i’m also already in the process of writing the second part, if that is something you would like to see!

[cialbi]

Boy with Hope: Lavender - Chapter Four

Summary: Severely depressed and addicted to alcohol, you had given up entirely on life. Your passion was gone, your friends had left you and you found yourself completely alone. As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared above you.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy

Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: Language, Depression, Alcoholism

⤎Previous

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The smell of citrus had you blinking your eyes open. It was a familiar smell, comforting. A scent you hadn’t smelled in a long time.

As your vision adjusted and your foggy head cleared, you noticed a display of stick-on stars plastered to the ceiling, glowing faintly against the autumn colored sunlight. You’d put them on almost every inch of your childhood bedroom when you were ten. Living in the city, stars were a rare sight, so you had concluded that this way, every night would be a starry one.

You sat up, knees hugged to your chest. A Disney princess blanket was draped over your lower half and ruffled pink pillows supported you comfortably as you leaned back against the headboard of your childhood bed. Looking around made you feel nostalgic, happy even. Seeing the array of stuffed animals that surrounded you and the zoetrope on your white wooden nightstand left a warm feeling in your gut. But something poked at your brain, telling you something was not right.

‘How did I get here?’ You wondered, though the thought felt distant, unimportant.

Before you could dwell on it, there was a knock at your door. “Y/N, can I come in?” That voice. You knew that voice.

“Yes, come in.” You said, almost automatically.

The door creaked open and the curly brown head of your mom poked in from behind. “Hi there sleepyhead, how are you feeling? I brought you some dinner.”

How were you feeling? “Um.. fine, I think?”

Your mom gave a soft laugh, entering your room with a tray of her special spaghetti and a tall glass of water. She placed the delicious smelling food on your nightstand before taking a seat beside you on the bed and reaching to place a hand on your forehead.

“Hmm… you’re still a little warm.” She confirmed. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Scrunching your brow, you tried to think about how you’re feeling, but all that comes up is a groggy mush and that irking in your tummy. An irking that this is an unusual situation and you’re not supposed to be here.

“Well…” You started. “I don’t feel sick.”

She smiled, her pale pink lipstick looking like a flower petal. “That’s good to hear. You really had us worried.”

Looking at your mom was surreal. It had been so long since you’d seen her face; her beautiful, soothing face that always put your mind at ease. On many occasions she’d been your support, held your hair back as you vomited from the overindulgence of alcohol. She’d scraped you off the steps of your house and helped you bathe away the sweat and barf in your hair. She had held you close as you cried from the pain of intoxication, and nursed you the next day with lots of water, alka seltzer and tums. She’d done so much for you, and in return all you did was fall deeper into the hole you were digging. And as you looked at every line of her face and her softly applied makeup, you couldn’t help but pull her into a hug.

“What’s this?” She giggled, hugging you back.

“Im sorry, mom.” You murmured, your voice muffled by her wool sweater.

“Oh, honey.” Ever so softly, she began to rub your back, something she did whenever you were distressed. It was soothing, familiar, and full of love. You couldn’t help but cry.

“I’m so sorry.” You blubbered, burying your face further into her shoulder.

“You should be.” The tone of her voice suddenly changed.

You blinked. ‘What?’  

That irking feeling began to scream as your mom’s grip tightened. The digging of her nails burned your flesh and had you yelp in pain.

“Mom what are you doing? Stop!” Wriggling, you tried to break free but she was too strong. When did she get that strong?

She laughed. Not the kind hearted laugh like before, but a morbid laugh that sent a chill down your spine. Nuzzling your neck, her lips ghosted your ear. “You’re a disappointment.”

Your eyes widened, tears spilling down your cheeks at the comment. Your mom had always expressed her concerns for you, her doubts and sadnesses, but she had never said anything so cruel before.

There was a tiny tickle on your cheek. With surprise, you used all your strength to pull yourself away from her chest only to see the woman you loved most crawling with cockroaches. Screaming, you scooched back against the wall and away from her. ‘Not this again. Please, not this again.’

Your mom didn’t move, sitting there with a deep frown on her lips. “How were we so unlucky to have a daughter like you?” She scowled.

Whimpering, you cried “Mom! I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry? You’re always sorry, but you never change. You can never change!” She grabbed your shoulders, fingernails piercing your flesh. You shriek in agony. There was a chirping noise as the cockroaches began to flood the room and creep their way up onto your bed. You bit your lip, sobs leaking out of your mouth. Shaking you, your mom growled. “You’ll never change! You’ll never change!”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” You repeated.

The chirping noise grew louder as the roaches overtook your arms, little legs writhing like snakes against your skin. You screamed again, trying to free yourself from her death grip but failing miserably. As you struggled, your mom relinquished one hand, only  to grab your forehead in another strong hold. You gasped as she began to smash your head against the wall.

“Die!” She raged.

“Stop!” You cried. Your scalp became wet as  blood trickled down your neck. “Please stop mom!”

“Die already!” Her eyes flashed red, her flower petal lips pulled back in a horrifying snarl. “Just die! Just die!”

Just.

DIE!

Your eyes shot open, the sight of your ceiling fan welcomed you with gentle blows of cool air. ‘Ugh. Just a dream.’ You groaned aloud and flopped your arms across your face in exhaustion.

“So, Sleeping Beauty finally wakes.”

You sat up abruptly to see the black-haired man from the hallway sitting in your desk chair with his legs apart and hands folded neatly in his lap. There’s a clear smirk on his striking face as he eyed you in amusement.

“You… what the fuck are you--” The throbbing in your head cut you off. You put a hand to your forehead and breathed deeply, sweat soaking through your shirt.

“I take it you didn’t sleep well?” He quipped, the look on his face made you want to smack him.

Ignoring him, you rubbed your temples and swallowed thickly. Your mouth was dry and there was an irrevocable thirst that itched in your throat.“Wh-um--what the hell happened?”

He adjusted himself, leaning back against the chair and crossed his arms over his chest before extending a ringed finger to point at your bedside table. “Water’s over there.”

You looked to where he pointed, and sure enough there was a tall glass of water and two tablets of Advil just beckoning for you to claim them. Your muscles groaned as you reached for them, swallowing the tablets first and then finishing it off with desperate gulps of water. When you finished, you placed the empty glass back on the table and wiped at your lips.

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow at your eagerness. “Better?”

You coughed, choking a little on some spit. “Um.. yeah. Thanks.”

His pretty lips tugged into a sneer, a suitable expression for his intimidating appearance. “Don’t thank me.”

An awkward silence flew between you two. You looked at your hands and pinched at your wrist, not daring to meet the scary angel-man’s boring stare. At least you assumed he was an angel too, since he seemed to be Hoseok’s friend. And he had one of those silver crosses. But you would not at all be surprised if he turned out to be the devil's incarnate.

“So.” His voice broke the silence, startling you to look up at him. His chin was angled so that his lashes cascaded a shadow down his cheekbone, making him look even more beautiful and even more frightening. “What do you remember?”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts. Your head was fuzzy, but you could faintly remember running barefoot like a maniac all the way to Martin’s Liquor. “Did I…?

“Drink?” He snorted, leaning forward to rest his chin on top of his folded hands. “No. But you did cause one hell of a shitstorm princess.”

You furrowed your brows quizzically. “What do you mean?”

The dark-haired man cracked a smile. Not a cheerful, warm and fuzzy smile like Hoseoks. The kind that makes you feel like the whole world is in on a joke about you. “Went absolutely bananas. Destroyed half a liquor store. Almost killed a guy. Any of that ring a bell?”

Your eyes widened and before you knew what you were saying, the words started to tumble out. “That wasn’t my fault! I was being attacked. They were everywhere, those… those…” You gasped, finally remembering everything. “Cockroaches.” Shifting your position, you were now completely facing him, eyes almost pleading. “You have to believe me. They were there. It wasn’t a hallucination, I swear.”

“Oh I believe you, sweetheart.” He licked his lips, eyes rolling to look at the ceiling in a bored sort of interest.

“You.. you do?” You leaned forward eagerly.

The angel brought his head back down to level with yours. His expression was unreadable. “I believe you thought they were there.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re sane.” He said matter of factly.

On top of being terrifying, this guy was a colossal jerk. Tears started to well in your eyes. You felt frustrated. You knew what you saw. But none of the other store clerks had seen it. Could you really be crazy? After everything you put yourself through, have you officially snapped? You were obviously seeing things that no one else could see. You trashed a store and, like the angel said, nearly killed a guy. The friendly, freckled face of the store clerk, soaked in blood flashed through your mind. A deep pang of guilt stabbed through your heart.

“That guy… is he ok?” The shame made you stare at the floor as you begged the question.

The dark-haired man sighed. “He’s fine. Hoseok took care of everything.” The dubious look you shot him made him sigh again. “With magic. He took away their memory and healed that guy you shoved. You don’t have to worry about a lawsuit anymore. All they’ll think is that the store was trashed by a crazy robber, or something like that.”

“Oh…” Was all you could say in response.

“That’s it?” He raised a brow. “No questions?”

You shook your head.

You should be asking more questions. This whole thing was utterly perplexing. Magic? Erasing memories? You knew about the healing, but it still caught you off guard. You should be freaking out, or running out the door again. But you had no energy left and you felt like you were going crazy. So you slumped back against the wall and allowed more tears to fall.

“Oh god. I’m completely insane.” You whimpered, lip quivering.

The dark-haired man fished out a pack of cigarettes followed by a silver lighter. He stuck the cancer stick between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling deeply. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Ok that’s enough.” A stern voice called.

Hoseok appeared from behind your kitchen door. He was holding a plate of steaming food and a glass of orange juice. His eyes were fixed with a warning stare which he directed towards his stoic friend. With a tut, he made his way over to your bedside and placed the food in your lap and the OJ in your hands. You sniffed, wiping away the tear stains and taking a little sip.

“Yoongi-hyung.” His voice softened but remained firm. “You can’t say things like that to her.” He turned his attention back to you. “Don’t mind him, love. He’s an incurable asshole.” You heard a grunt of disapproval. “Here, eat something. You must be starving.”

It felt like a millennia since you last ate, but as you looked down at the nicely prepared pancakes, you couldn’t find it in yourself to eat. Instead, you avert your eyes to the two men who are now seated side by side, with Hoseok seated criss-crossed on the floor and Yoongi still comfortably reclined in your desk chair.

They both stared at you in intense silence, as if you’d explode if one of them dared to move. You looked once more at the food, then back at them. A new found frustration boiled in your veins. How in the hell did they expect you to eat now? The entire situation was bananas, you felt bananas. And despite your exhaustion, you now had questions and a burning desire for some sort of emotional release.

“I’m sorry.” You started. Biting back the hostility in your voice, you slid the food off your lap and placed the OJ on your nightstand. “You have to forgive me. It’s been--well it’s been quite the day. First, some strange man breaks into my apartment, claiming to be an angell and heals me with his bare hands. And then, would you know it, sprouts enormous purple wings. Ok yeah, that’s weird. But then his moody, outcast-wannabe friend appears out of nowhere, tries to grab me--”

“Moody outcast? Is that me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m the strange man with purple wings.”

“--and basically calls me crazy.” You continued, throwing them a ‘shut-up and don’t interrupt me' glare. “I see hundreds--no thousands--of disgusting mother-fucking cockroaches trying to flipping eat me, but no one else seems to see that. Instead I’m just this batshit-bonker balls lady who almost killed a guy and probably backrupted an entire store. Than this brooding asshole--”

“Yoongi.”

“--I don’t care. Tells me you--” You throw your arms up at Hoseok. “--apparently erased their memories, and used your magic-hands to heal that poor guy, which still sounds ridiculous. So please. Forgive me for asking. But just what in God’s fucking name is going on here and should I check myself for a psych-eval now or just wait until I actually kill someone. Because honestly, I still have no fucking idea if this is all in my head, or am I really--am I really standing here, venting my life problems to two of the lords chosen ones who have been the entire center of this loony-tunes day.” You take a deep breath, regaining all the lost oxygen you have just spent on your tirade, and turn to face the dumbfounded expressions of angel-dee and angel-dumb. “So now, I’m going to be quiet, and hope that for heaven’s sake, one of you will explain.”

“Uh…” Yoongi was the first to speak up. Not breaking eye contact with you, the dark-haired angel slapped a hand across Hoseok’s shoulder. “Wow man. Good luck with this one.”

Hoseok blinked in disbelief, like he doesn’t know where to begin. “Uhm… demons.”

Now it’s your turn to blink in disbelief. “Guzuntight?”

Blinking a few more times, Hoseok seemed to regain his composure. “Yes. Those were demons.”

“I’m sorry, demons? I thought you guys were angels.” You narrowed your eyes at Yoongi. “Except maybe this one.”

Yoongi returned your glare with sparks flying between you two. “He means the cockroaches.” He explained, sliding back into his collected demeanor.

“Wait.” You wiggled a finger next to your head as if the motion could somehow translate english to english. “The cockroaches… are… demons? Demons?”

Hoseok cleared his throat, preparing for a long explanation. “Yes. Well… sort of.” The ‘I-do-not-follow’ look on your face urged him to continue. “Let me put it this way.” He stood and held out a hand, palm facing up. A single glowing orb generated from his hand and hovered inches in the air. You gasped, because despite everything you’d seen today, you were still not used to this who magic-thing. “Every human has a soul. Bright, hopeful, full of light.” He said. “But when that soul is shrouded in darkness, it invites demons to come and manipulate that soul until there is no light left.” As he said this, the orb’s glow gradually dimmed until it was completely gone.”Our job as angels is to protect these particular souls and help them to find their light again, so that it doesn't disappear and leave the human empty.”  

You nod. This all sounds completely bonker-balls, and you’re not entirely following, but you decide to probe further. “So… those cockroaches were demons… coming after my… my soul?”

Hoseok grinned, squinty eyes twinkling as you were finally putting it together. “Yes!”

Demons coming after your soul. Not the most illogical thing you’ve heard today. “Ok, but wait. Why haven’t I seen them before?”

There was a pause. Hoseok’s eye-smile dropping, lips dipping into a said frown. “You tried to kill yourself.”  At the same time, all three of you lowered your gazes to the floor. Another moment of silence passed before Hoseok continued. “That’s when the soul is almost completely consumed by the darkness.”

You bit your lip. “So then I’m…”

“No! Don’t worry. Before I could let that happen to you, I brought you back.” The orange-haired angel assured you. “It’s just now… everytime you reach out for that darkness… it’s like a perfume for demons. They’re attracted to that scent of humans giving into their… well… personal demons. They take on your worst fear and use that fear to devour you. Your soul is still so sunk in black that even the slightest relapse will send them on your tail.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Could you say that in a way I can understand?”

“You drink, you’re demon food.” Yoongi chimed in.

Hoseok’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as he breathed through his nose. “As a manner of speaking.”

You laughed bitterly. “Great.” The one thing your body desperately wants and you couldn’t have it. Because if you do, your soul turns completely black and demons get to eat your innards like spaghetti.

“Think of it like a cockblock. Don’t drink and the demons won’t bother you. Simple.” Yoongi affirmed, giving you a solid thumbs up which made you groan. Hoseok was right. Incurable asshole.

“Well no. It’s not that simple.” Hoseok smacked his friend’s leg. “We need to find a way to bring back that light in your life. And until then, I’m here to stay.

You frowned. You almost thought it was better when he was just a psycho on the loose. Because having a legitimate messenger of God all up in your business was way too much pressure. And to be frank, kind of scary. “And for how long?”

Hoseok scuttled over to take a seat next to you. “See this?” He tugged at the cross around his neck and presented it to your line of vision. He tapped softly next to an onyx jewel embedded in the middle. His gorgeous face beamed with excitement. “This is your soul… well a representation of it. When this completely turns white, then I’ve completed my mission and I’m out of your hair. I swear.”

Looking over to Yoongi, you eyed his necklace which also had an onyx jewel in the center of his cross. The dark-haired angel followed your gaze and looked down too. Then suddenly he stood up.

“And with that, I’m outta here.” He said plainly. “Got my own business to attend to.”

“Still haven't found her, hyung?” Hoseok asked his friend.

Yoongi sighed, a ghost of a sad smile on his lips, which surprised you to see any sort of emotion from him. “She’s a tough one to find.”

Before you could ask what they’re talking about, Yoongi made his way to your window, opening the latch and raising the pane all the way up. He perched like a hawk about to take off, the glowing autumn light casting a lovely glow against his porcelain skin.

“Hey!” You yelled, jumping to your feet but not daring to move.

“Don’t worry princess. They may not be purple, but they’re just as big and just as strong.” He said, sending you a little wink.

Your mouth opened and closed, wondering what he meant until two huge black wings burst from his back. They beat a couple of times to adjust themselves, sending a soft current of wind against your face.

“Oh my God.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yoongi chuckled melodically, a beautiful sound you never thought his snarky lips could make. “Not quite.”

“Let me know when you find her, hyung!” Hoseok shouted after the dark-haired man as he leapt from the window and disappeared from sight.

Your head began to spin as yet another unbelievable thing just happened today. As you sat back down on your bed, you turned to look at Hoseok, trying to find any words. But all that could come out was, “Can’t you guys just use the friggin’ door?”

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A/N 

Again, pretty much unedited. Will go back later to edit. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 

Cial