#we changed seats yesterday so he's now across the aisle from me

[my-thirteenth-reason]

ok so i think our friendship status is "would and does wave at me when he sees me after club/on our way home from school/outside" which makes me happy because i don't think he would wave to every girl from my class right??

[everythingharrypotterblog]

charmed [16]: 'cat, rat, dog, and dove' (remus lupin x reader)

a/n: WELCOME BACK TO CHARMED. WE ARE HERE. we have arrived to this moment. BUCKLE THE FUCKING FUCK UP.

brief summary: the year has culminated into this one fateful night at the shrieking shack. word count: 9k

series summary: if you're here, u know what this series is abt im not gonna waste space and recopy it here THIS CHAPTER IS ALREADY TOO LOADED.

series masterlist here

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16.

The sun was out. Its rays peeking through the leaves of trees, their heat was much stronger in this month of spring than it was in autumn, when Y/N and Remus took their first early morning walk to escape from the Castle. It became a habit they maintained all school year, and it was so hard to believe that they had already walked their way to final examinations season. Two terms had rolled by, laying down all the tiles needed to strengthen their relationship even more.

Y/N’s arm was around Remus’ bicep. It was warm enough now for them to abandon their jackets, and they strolled through the Castle grounds in simple button-ups.

Remus peeked down at Y/N, who by reflex caught his eye. He shut an eye tightly in an exaggerated wink. Y/N smiled, resting her head against his arm for a second.

“Can’t wait for our kid to experience all that is Hogwarts.” Remus said.

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together as she beamed up at him.

“Rem…”

Their chests burned from elation as they continued in their stride.

“Thinking a bit ahead though, don’t you think, we’ve got more than 11 years before we get to that point.” Y/N chuckled.

“Oh, you’re right. Before that, it’ll be you n’ me teaching them.”

“I agree with you. Sending them to Muggle primary school seems way too risky for exposure.”

“I do worry about socialization though.”

“Hmm. Me too. We should probably get in touch with other wizard families that have children the same age as ours.”

They came to a small halt as they overlooked the train tracks.

“I can’t wait for our kid to get on the train for the first time.” Y/N sighed.

Remus patted her hand in his. “What did you feel your first time on it?”

“Terrified.” Y/N chortled. “I was anxious even as a child. You?”

“Me too. But I guess, something really deep inside me- I don’t know. I just felt like my life was going to change, I guess.”

Y/N smiled softly at the gentle man before her.

“And we have to take that train really soon again.”

“Yeah.”

“Crazy.”

They continued walking, the castle of Hogwarts standing tall against them, hovering and watching over them as it has done for so long.

+

As the year continued to draw to a close, the exam season proceeded on. Today were the Charms finals for the 3rd-years, as well as the 5th-years’ OWL’s. Even the Weasley twins had been spotted with their books open, working in a corner of the library.

Y/N downed the last of her tea, as she rifled through a pack of fresh grading sheets. She waved her wand, and yesterday’s 2nd-year evaluations floated upwards, inserted themselves neatly in a folder, and slid themselves into her briefcase.

She clapped her hands together and got up to the door, opening it to a crowd of her 3rd-years. 

“Ready?”

She let them trickle in and take their seats at the individually separated desks. Walking through the aisles, she placed an exam sheet on each one facing down.

“Alright, everyone, please get your things straight and then leave your bags up here in the front. Remember, you’re only allowed your quills for the written part.”

“You guys have one hour. Don’t forget to check both sides of the paper. Time starts… now.”

A synchronized whoosh of 30 papers being flipped over echoed across the room, followed by the etching of quills.

Y/N hated the written exams. She had nothing to do but to count the tiles in the classroom and twiddle her thumbs.

She was on her 5th recount of how many tiles spanned from one wall to another when a figure flashed in her peripheral.

Remus had passed by and judging the complete silence, assumed Y/N was sitting an exam. He waved cheerily, happy he had opted for practical examinations. Y/N rolled her eyes when she spotted him. Remus turned back around and passed the classroom door again.

“STOP.” Y/N mouth silently, gesturing to her students.

A few of them looked up and laughed, leading to a few more turning their heads.

“Enough.” Y/N shook her head, waving her wand and the door slammed shut, Remus disappearing from their sights.

“Professor Lupin’s just gloating that all his finals are over.” Y/N hushed the group. “Now get on, I’m not giving you extra time.”

She winked at the end, and the students returned to their scrolls, the atmosphere in the classroom noticeably lighter.

+

Light filled the room as Y/N clicked the lamp open. She turned to her side to find Remus wide awake as well.

“Can’t sleep?” She muttered.

“Nope.”

Y/N huffed, stacking her pillows and coming up to a seated position.

“It’s the full moon soon. How are you feeling?”

“The usual.” Remus yawned, turning on his side. He examined the grey circles under Y/N’s eyes through his wrinkle-decorated own. “I just feel a bit weird.”

“Hm.” Y/N responded. “Me too.”

“We’re probably just tired from so many back to back exams and all the grading.”

“Yeah. And my heart is kind of hurting. I just can’t really believe this year is ending. This has been the best job I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

Remus slid his hand under the covers to find hers.

“All good things must come to an end, my love.”

Y/N smiled sadly.

“What are the odds Flitwick needs another year off, eh?”

Remus chuckled.

Y/N clicked the lamp off and the two laid back in once again total darkness. Outside their window, roamed the creatures of the night. Centaurs, unicorns trudging across the Forbidden Forest, Dementors floating outside the Castle perimeter, and strolling stealthily in the Hogsmeade village; a ginger cat and its newfound friend, a big shaggy black dog.

+

Remus strolled along on his daily walk of the Castle grounds. Y/N had opted to stay in bed well into the afternoon that day, feeling more tired than usual.

He found a tree stump near Hagrid’s Hut and installed himself comfortably under it. He pulled a book from the pocket of his robes and opened it to the page he had last marked. About three quarters of an hour passed when he noticed Harry, Hermione and Ron come down and go into Hagrid’s. He returned to his book.

A small while later, he noticed more figures make their way to that direction.  One sported a bowler hat, which he recognized as the Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, and two wizards followed him. One of them had a shiny axe attached to his belt, which glistened when it caught the sun.

Comprehension dawned upon Remus. He had heard of Hagrid’s Hippogriff case with Malfoy and the Ministry, and Y/N had told him in passing of the Harry and his friends’ interest in the outcome.

They emerged from the hut and crossed paths with the men. Remus closed his book. Those three better not involve themselves any further with the case, he thought. He didn’t want them to be exposed to the execution.

+

"THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS. HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS. TONIGHT, BEFORE 

MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER. THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANTS AID, GREATER AND 

MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS. TONIGHT... BEFORE MIDNIGHT... THE SERVANT... WILL SET OU... TO REJOIN... HIS MASTER.... 

Harry dropped the crystal ball he was supposed to return to Professor Trelawney and ran.

Thus began a very fateful night.

+

Remus walked through the Castle that evening and felt a weird shift in the air. Exams were over sure, but there was a certain trio that seemed the opposite of celebratory. Making his way down to the Great Hall, he took a seat next to Professor Sprout.

“Evening, Lupin.” She said happily.

“Good evening, Professor.” He responded kindly.

“Y/N coming soon?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m not sure, she’s taking a nap now. She’s been awfully tired this past week.”

“That’s okay, classic end-of-year burnout” she replied, then proceeded to ask him how if he had finished all his grading.

Remus conversed with her a bit distractedly as he watched over the Gryffindor table, spotting Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were visibly pre-occupied and were huddled away from the other students, discussing seriously.

“Have you heard from Hagrid? Poor thing, his Hippogriff’s been sentenced to death today. It’s going to happen tonight, any minute now actually I think.”

Remus turned to face her. “Really? That’s horrible…”

Professor Sprout pursed her lips in agreement before taking another bite of chicken.

Remus looked over at the trio again. They were standing up hastily, walking out of the Hall with quick little steps. He frowned. What were they up to?

He took the time to finish his dinner calmly and bid the fellow staff goodbye. Making his way back into his office, he pulled out his things quietly as the bedroom door was still shut; Y/N was probably still asleep.

He took a seat at his desk and pulled out what looked like an old used piece of parchment.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The map opened and unfolded as traces of ink bled upon its pages, forming its intricate content. He scanned it quickly, before turning his attention to Hagrid’s Hut. Hagrid’s dot was there, along with Dumbledore’s and other names he assumed were Ministry officials.

Running along the path to his Hut, he stopped at the two dots moving right under the Whomping Willow. It was Harry and Hermione. Where was Ron? What were they doing by that tree?

A thought popped in his head and his stomach sank. He moved up the map, praying to God that his far-fetched conjecture wouldn’t be true. Landing on Hogsmeade Village, he looked for the Shrieking Shack. The weight in his stomach sank even further. Ron’s dot was there, accompanied by none other than… Sirius Black.

His hands shook. He had to go help him. But as he watched the dots move, a third one came into view.

It was labelled “Peter Pettigrew”.

At that second, the blood had left Remus’ face. His hands grew cold. He shook the paper. He rapped his wand at it. He blinked and blinked again. The dot was still there, labelled with that name as clear as day.

In that very moment, a 13 year-old puzzle just came together with this one final piece. The web wove itself to completion. He understood… Stuffing his wand in his pocket, he jumped out of his chair and sped out the door.

+

In the Shrieking Shack, blood pressures were high.

Ron lay in the corner, with his weight off his broken leg, clutching his rat Scabbers. Hermione stood in the corner, quiet and pale.

Harry was fuming, frozen with his wand lifted and pointed to a ghastly, ghost-like Sirius Black.

"Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered. 

Harry stopped right above him, his wand still pointing at Black's chest, looking down at him. A livid bruise was rising around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding. 

"You killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, but his wand hand quite steady. 

Black stared up at him out of those sunken eyes. 

"I don't deny it," he said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story." 

"The whole story?" Harry repeated, a furious pounding in his ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know." 

"You've got to listen to me," Black said, and there was a note of urgency in his voice now. "You'll regret it if you don't.... You don't understand...." 

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, and his voice shook more than ever. "You never heard her, did you? My mum... trying to stop Voldemort killing me... and you did that... you did it...." 

Crookshanks jumped in between the two and sat itself at Black’s feet, looking back at Harry with deep yellow eyes.

The seconds lengthened. And still Harry stood frozen there, wand poised, Black staring up at him, Crookshanks on his chest. Ron's ragged breathing came from near the bed; Hermione was quite silent. 

And then came a new sound - 

Muffled footsteps were echoing up through the floor — someone was moving downstairs. 

"WE'RE UP HERE!" Hermione screamed suddenly. "WE'RE UP HERE -- SIRIUS BLACK - QUICK!" 

Professor Lupin came hurtling into the room, his face bloodless, his wand raised and ready. His eyes flickered over Ron, lying on the floor, over Hermione, cowering next to the door, to Harry, standing there with his wand covering Black, and then to Black himself, crumpled and bleeding at Harry's feet. 

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin shouted. 

Harry's wand flew once more out of his hand; so did the two Hermione was holding. Lupin caught them all deftly, then moved into the room, staring at Black, who still had Crookshanks lying protectively across his chest. 

+

Y/N woke up to a dark room. She groaned and rubbed her eyes. Her entire face felt scorching hot and her mouth was dry like she hadn’t drank in days. She rolled over in the bed. She had crawled under her blankets in the evening before dinner for a quick nap, but judging by the chill and dark air outside, she must have slept into early night.

She felt a tightness in her pelvic area, like cramps. She placed a hand on her abdomen.

Pulling herself out of bed lazily, she head to the bathroom. Her period was supposed to start a few days ago, so this must’ve been it. However, as she sat down on the toilet, there was nothing.

Suddenly, a realization jolted her mind awake.

She ran back to the bedroom, rummaging through her drawer for a pregnancy test. She went back to the bathroom and waited for the result.

Positive.

She put down the test swiftly, looking away as she felt her heartbeat quicken. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Slowly, she picked up the stick and read the result once more.

Holy shit.

She looked around her and it occurred to her that Remus was nowhere to be found. She checked the clock. It was well past 10pm. 

Where the hell was he?

+

"Where is he, Sirius?" 

Remus spoke in a tense voice, cutting through the weighted silence that took over the Shrieking Shack.

Black's face was quite expressionless. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Then, very slowly, he raised his empty hand and pointed straight at Ron. 

Mystified, Harry glanced around at Ron, who looked bewildered. 

"But then..." Lupin muttered, staring at Black so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, "... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless" -- Lupin's eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Black, something none of the rest could see, "-- unless he was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?" 

Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Lupin's face, Black nodded. 

"Professor," Harry interrupted loudly, "what's going on --?" 

But Harry wasn’t able to finish his sentence, as what followed knocked the wind from his throat.

Remus lowered his wand. He walked to Sirius’ side, seized his hand confidently and pulled him to his feet. He gazed deeply into his eyes for a second, before the two men pulled each other into a deep embrace.

“I don’t believe it—“ Remus gasped, voice muffled.

“God, it’s been so long,” Sirius muttered back, “my friend.”

"DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione screamed. 

Lupin let go of Black and turned to her. She had raised herself off the floor and was pointing at Lupin, wild-eyed. "You -- you --" 

"Hermione —"

“— you and him!" 

"Hermione, calm down —" 

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you —" 

"Hermione, listen to me, please'" Lupin shouted. "I can explain —" 

Harry could feel himself shaking, not with fear, but with a fresh wave of fury. 

"I trusted you," he shouted at Lupin, his voice wavering, out of control, "and all the time you've been his friend!" 

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now — Let me explain...." 

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too -- he's a werewolf!" 

There was a ringing silence. Everyone's eyes were now on Lupin, who looked remarkably calm, though rather pale. 

+

Where the hell was he?

Y/N’s head was spinning as too much was happening at the same time. She glanced around hurriedly for signs of Remus, then remembered she was clutching the positive pregnancy test and looked back at the positive result, then saw the Marauder’s Map was splayed across the desk, still open.

She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She stuffed the test in her pocket then headed towards his desk. She’d be able to find where Remus was on the map, then would go back to sleep.

It took a while for her eyes to scan the entire Castle for his name, to no avail. Where the hell was he? Surely he was not outside… It then dawned on her that tonight was the full moon.

Shit. 

She looked over to the Shrieking Shack and nothing could have prepared her to see what she saw. Not one, but six dots. One was Remus, but he was accompanied by Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as…

Y/N felt her heart freeze. Sirius Black? And… Peter… Pettigrew?

None of this felt possible. It couldn’t be. Grabbing her wand, she rushed out the office.

With this new information, the full moon had completely been replaced in her mind. Unfortunately, the only one who did seem to still remember was a certain Potions professor, on his way up to their office right now, where the map laid wide open.

+

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," Remus said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead.”  An odd shiver passed over his face. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf." 

Ron made a valiant effort to get up again but fell back with a whimper of pain. Lupin made toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped, "Get away from me, werewolf!" 

Lupin stopped dead. Then, with an obvious effort, he turned to Hermione and said, "How long have you known?" 

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..." 

"He'll be delighted," said Lupin coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant.... Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?" 

"Both," Hermione said quietly. 

Lupin forced a laugh. 

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione." 

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!" 

"But they already know," said Lupin. "At least, the staff do." 

“The staff? Does Professor Y/L/N know?” Ron gasped.

Sirius let out a howl of genuine laughter. “Professor Y/L/N!” He cackled. 

Remus scratched the back of his head, suddenly slightly bashful. “Professor Y/L/N and I… have been married for over 10 years.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione’s jaws dropped.

Silence fell over the room once again, as Remus stood there not knowing what to say next and Sirius standing by his side with his arms crossed, a slight smirk on his face.

“Well, we knew that!” Hermione exclaimed, finally. “That was more obvious than the werewolf thing! The whole school talks about it—“

She was interrupted as a new set of footsteps echoed from the staircase. The kids froze as Remus and Sirius turned to face the door, wands at the ready.

In burst Y/N, as if right on cue in a play. She was flushed and was panting, it appeared she had ran the whole way there. 

“Remus!” She cried out upon seeing him. “YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO—“ She took a step forward until she spotted his company, and slowly took the step back. “What…” She murmured shakily, “is happening here?”

“Professor Y/L/N.” Hermione gasped softly.

Her eyes hovered over Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were in shock to see their Charms Professor, before landing upon Sirius. Something unrecognizable flashed across her gaze. She couldn’t believe what, or whom, she was seeing. She had thought the map made a mistake.

Y/N didn’t hear her. “Siri…?” she whispered, fixated on the man in front of her.

That’s when Harry lost it.

“‘SIRI?’ I TRUSTED YOU TOO! SO THIS WHOLE TIME -BOTH- OF YOU HAVE BEEN HELPING HIM?”

Y/N jumped from the sudden outburst and Remus came by her side to put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Remus, you better explain and you better explain quick.” She said tensely.

“We have not been helping Sirius," said Lupin. "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look —" 

He separated Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's wands and threw each back to its owner; Harry caught his, stunned. 

“There”, said Lupin, sticking his own wand back into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?" 

"If you haven't been helping him," Harry said, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?" 

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —“

"You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously. 

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school." 

"You wrote —?" 

Y/N caught Harry’s eye and gave him a confirming nod.

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?” 

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet. 

"You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry--" 

"How d'you know about the cloak?" 

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it...," said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else." 

"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!" 

I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?" 

"No one was with us!" said Harry. 

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black.... I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"

"One of us!" Ron said angrily. 

"No, Ron," said Lupin. "Two of you.”

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?" 

"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?" 

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise. 

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers. 

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. 

"What's my rat got to do with anything?" 

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"

"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard.”

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew." 

"You're both mental.”

"Ridiculous!" said Hermione faintly. 

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively. 

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me... not this time, though!" 

And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg. 

"Sirius, NO!" Lupin yelled, launching himself forwards and dragging Black away from Ron again, "WAIT! You can't do it just like that -- they need to understand -- we've got to explain --" 

"We can explain afterwards!" snarled Black, trying to throw Lupin off. 

Y/N joined and stepped in front of Sirius. “Sirius, please!” She put both hands on his shoulders, causing him to flinch. Her voice was shaking. “They deserve to know the full picture.”

Black stopped struggling, though his hollowed eyes were still fixed on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, scratched, ad bleeding hands. “Fine. But make it quick. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.”

"You're nutters, all three of you," said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off." 

“Ron.” Y/N said sternly. “Sit down. I’m not joking, you’re going to listen.”

Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly. 

"But Professor Lupin... Scabbers can't be Pettigrew... it just can't be true, you know it can't..." 

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with grindylows. 

"Because... because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework -- the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things... and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list." 

Lupin and Y/N laughed.

"Light again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts." 

Y/N cleared her throat.

“Sorry, four Animagi. Although we didn’t really know back then about you, my love.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Still, wanted to make sure you got the number right.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wider if it was even possible. “Professor Y/L/N, you’re an Animagus too?!”

Y/N nodded and gestured to Remus to proceed.

"All right... but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin, I only know how it began..." 

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing. 

"No one there…"

"This place is haunted!" said Ron. 

"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted.... The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me." 

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, "That's where all of this starts -- with my becoming a werewolf, None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitter... and if I hadn't been so foolhardy..." 

He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione, said, "Shh!" She was watching Lupin very intently. 

"I as a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform.... I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me. “

Hermione noticed a hint of sadness as she watched Y/N listen to her husband’s story.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school...." Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came 

to Hogwarts. This house" -- Lupin looked miserably around the room, -- "the tunnel that leads to it -- they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous." 

"My transformations in those days were -- were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor.... Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it...." 

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black... Peter Pettigrew... and, of course, your father, Harry -- James Potter." 

Y/N sniffed.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her... I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth...." 

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times 

of my life. They became Animagi." 

"My dad too?" said Harry, astounded. 

"Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong -- one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will." 

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled. 

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed... Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the 

Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them." 

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face. 

Y/N bit her lip as she dared to watch her old friend. She wanted to go touch him, comfort him, after so long… but she remained frozen on the spot as Remus continued.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there... well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did.... And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs." 

"What sort of animal --?" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off. 

"That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?" 

"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless -- carried away with our own cleverness." 

I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course... he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed..." 

Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me... and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it... so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along." 

“Don’t put it all on yourself,” Y/N said grimly. “The blame’s to share. We both decided to not go to Dumbledore.”

"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?" 

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore A year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly 

killed him, a trick which involved me —" Black made a derisive noise. Y/N shushed him.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t go defending him now—“ Sirius chuckled.

“I’m not! I’m just— Rem, continue the story.” She said, crossing her arms defensively.

The two exchanged looks between each other, a bit of playfulness coming from Sirius’ end whereas Y/N still looked conflicted about being in his presence.

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we -- er -- didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field... anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be -- er -- amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it -- if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf -- but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life... Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was...." 

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?" 

"That's right," sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin. 

Severus Snape was pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointing, directly at Lupin. 

Hermione screamed. Black leapt to his feet. Harry felt as though he'd received a huge electric shock. 

Y/N gasped and clutched her stomach. Black slowly grabbed her shoulders and placed himself in front of her protectively.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," said Snape, throwing the cloak aside, careful to keep this wand pointing directly at Lupin's chest. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you...." 

Snape was slightly breathless, but his face was full of suppressed triumph. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did... lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight." 

"Severus --" Lupin began, but Snape overrode him. 

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout — and you too Y/L/N. Here you are helping him out, a real criminal couple you two are…”

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin urgently. "You haven't heard everything -- I can explain -- Sirius is not here to kill Harry --" 

"Three more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, his eyes now gleaming fanatically. “Though I do feel bad for you, Y/L/N, you never should have gotten involved… in the first place…I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this.... He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin... a tame werewolf —" 

“Don’t - you - fucking - dare—“ Y/N said through gritted teeth, wanting to lunge forward to strike Snape, but Sirius and Remus caught her arms, holding her back.

“How sweet.” Snape said sardonically.

"You fool," said Lupin softly. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?" 

BANG! Thin, snakelike cords burst from the end of Snape's wand and twisted themselves around Lupin's mouth, wrists, and ankles; he overbalanced and fell to the floor, unable to move. Y/N screamed, throwing herself down to check on him. With a roar of rage, Black started toward Snape, but Snape pointed his wand straight between Black's eyes. 

"Give me a reason," he whispered. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will." 

Black stopped dead. It would have been impossible to say which face showed more hatred. 

Harry stood there, paralyzed, not knowing what to do or whom to believe. He glanced around at Ron and Hermione. Ron looked just as confused as he did, still fighting to keep hold on the struggling Scabbers. Hermione, however, took an uncertain step toward Snape and said, in a very breathless voice, "Professor Snape -- it it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w -- would it?" 

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school," Snape spat. "You, Potter, and Weasley are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue." 

Y/N whipped her head around, hearing the way Snape was beginning to speak to Hermione.

"But if -- if there was a mistake --" 

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end of his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. 

“ENOUGH!” Y/N jumped up, pulling her wand out and pointing it straight at Snape. “Hermione, get back.”

“Step aside, Y/L/N. You don’t know what you’re doing.” He grunted.

“I said, get back, all three of you.” Y/N snapped, Harry and Hermione hurrying and backing up to where Ron laid.

“Severus, I’m serious, you need to hear them out.” Y/N said. Her voice was steely. She moved out from behind Sirius and inched her way closer to Snape, softly but steadily like a cat.

Snape ignored her. Remus struggled against his binds, his eyes not leaving Y/N. But deep down, he knew he didn’t have to worry. He had seen her fight during the first Wizarding War, and he knew how much more powerful of a witch she had grown into. Snape unfortunately, did not, as he returned his attention to Sirius.

"Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you...." 

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" -- he jerked his head at Ron -- "I'll come quietly...." 

"Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black... pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay... I --" 

What little color there was in Blacks face left it. 

"You -you've got to hear me out," he croaked. "The rat -- look at the rat --" 

But there was a mad glint in Snape's eyes that had never been seen before. He seemed beyond reason. 

"Come on, all of you," he said. He clicked his fingers, and the ends of the cords that bound Lupin flew to his hands. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too —" 

“Severus.” Y/N warned, wand still at the ready.

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had crossed the room in three strides and blocked the door. 

“Harry!” Y/N cried.

"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," snarled Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin --" 

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Harry said. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?" 

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," hissed Snape. 

"Get out of the way, Potter." 

"YOURE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN --" 

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, looking madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too 

arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black -- now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!" 

“Okay, I said ENOUGH!” Y/N raised her voice. 

With a wave of her wand, the floor tiles under Harry’s feet rolled upwards in a wave, and sent Harry tumbling back to the back of the room where Ron and Hermione were.

“Snape, I told you to listen,” She said, advancing on him with her wand. “I told you, I don’t want to have to do this. But you have clearly lost your mind.”

Snape turned to face her. His dark eyes darkened even more. “And I told you, to get out of my way.a What are you possibly saying, Professor Y/L/N, you really think I’m going to duel you?”

Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Why, you scared you gonna lose?” She said in a volume just above a whisper.

Snape jerked his wand and a spell flew at her, she whipped her own wand and deflected it. It bounced to the wall and knocked an old painting down.

With her empty hand, Y/N reached out to the trio and conjured a sort of bubble around Ron, Harry and Hermione. It was a protection spell.

Remus screamed in muffled yells as his mouth was gagged, and Sirius tried to free him but to no avail, there was no untying magical ties without a wand.

Y/N’s chest was heaving as she felt her heartbeat quicken.

A rapidfire of spells followed, bouncing between the two like fireworks. Y/N waved her wand, deflecting those Snape sent at her, conjuring out some of her own in the milliseconds in between. 

Snakes shot out of Snape’s wand, flying toward Y/N. She waved her wand and they turned into pink satin ribbons, falling through the air. She flicked her wand one, two, three different motions and jets of orange, red and purple shot toward him. He deflected two of them and managed to physically dodge the third. Snape rose his hands and a ring of fire encircled Y/N.

Remus let out another muffled yell, struggling terribly against his restraints.

“Don’t-“ Y/N muttered through gritted teeth as she began to make effortful circles with both her wand and her non-dominant hand. The others watched in terror. “Piss - me - OFF—“

The molecules of water vapor surrounding her had liquefied and splashed down onto the floor to put out the flames. “The shack’s made out of fucking wood, Snape, you want us all to DIE?”

She raised her wand high above her head, the water getting picked off the floor and she pushed the wave into him. It slammed his body into the wall behind him and with another wave of her wand, the water froze; trapping him there, suspended. 

Remus watched from the ground in awe. He had forgotten how powerful Y/N had become and it was magnificent to witness.

Snape’s head had knocked back and it drooped down, hanging from his neck. He had been knocked unconscious.

Sirius found Remus’ wand and untied him.

Y/N took a deep breath and lowered her wand. She waved her hand, and the protective barrier in front of the trio disappeared. Remus jumped to his feet and rushed to her, capturing her in a soulful hug.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He said, taking her face in his two hands, searching and scanning for signs of distress.

“I’m good, I swear.” She said, steadying her breath.

After what seemed like forever, finally Remus let her go. They immediately turned back around to heightened squeaking noises, coming from a very distressed Scabbers, still stuck in Ron’s tight clutch.

“Professor Y/L/N…” Hermione began. 

“That was amazing.” Ron breathed.

“How you used the Freezing charm to- to- Oh God, Professor Snape.” Hermione gasped once she saw what state he was in.

“This still doesn’t mean I believe you.” Harry said firmly.

Y/N, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

“Then it’s time we gave you proof.” Remus said, advancing.

“Ron, give us the rat.”

[alicenaivory]

•𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓•

|mentions of @furtivespirit & @eternallyvain |

[“I want your love and I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romance...”

Music boomed loudly throughout speakers in the room. The bass was enough to send a vibration in the flooring beneath my feet. Black and white strobelights flashed quickly above everyone’s head, aiming towards the long runway.

It’s what I asked for so I should be satisfied but I think I want more. I raised my hand so everyone knew to put a stop to everything. The music and the lights had ceased all at once.

Silence.

That’s what I needed an order to think of what I could do to make this better.

My excuse to pick apart what was already good enough.

The sad truth is that nothing will ever be good enough.

I now reside in New York City. My last home was New Orleans but I departed after suffering through the last incantation with a witch named Hekate. I remembered I was dying from a werewolf bite and she saved my life but something still wasn’t right from what she expressed. Her being a witch and me being vampire was already a recipe for disaster.

I trusted her to do one last incantation in hopes it’ll save me from that nightmare I was living. I remember waking up with my memories in pieces. Everything I had ever known was a blur. Hekate told me she was unsure if this was permanent or not but she gave me a piece of advice that stuck with me.

“Live your life, Alicena.”

Live my life? I wasn’t sure what my life was, especially in New Orleans. I didn’t have a single thing going for myself there except a bar I shared with Sabine.

Despite having a scattered brain I knew she was important to me and that’s why I had to leave before she found out what had happened. What she doesn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

When I arrived in New York it was a late night. All I heard was music in the distance and I followed it. The music was coming from a fashion show. Seeing them strut across the runway left me inspired.

I wanted to be apart of it but I also wanted to control it. I wanted it to be something I can call my own. With compulsion it took me no time to control everything. I was it’s new director and I controlled the designs.

I was determined but I can tell this was more than determination. This is obsession. I was obsessive. I’m slowly discovering that I have some very dark ways and sometimes they scare me. Had I always been this way? Was I always vain and spent an unusual amount of time in the mirror?

I don’t know anymore.

I take slow strides toward the runway, seeing the bright pink aisle was offsetting. Maybe that is what’s bothering me.]

This.

[I point at it to gather everyone’s attention. They were all helpful, I rarely compelled them at all but they feared me. I can smell it on them and sometimes that fear is what I couldn’t understand. I assume it’s my “mysterious” ways or the fact I’ve never laughed or smiled around them.]

Throw this rug out. We need a darker shade. Like black. I want it black.

[“I’ll get right on it, Ms.Alicena.” Winston assured me. He was my assistant and he was very loyal to me. I can’t think of a time he’s ever disappointed me.

“Ms.Alicena, I mean no harm but we’ve been practicing for seven hours. Can we just come back tomorrow?” The tall brunette model complained, seating herself at the end of the stage.

I turned her way before looking at the rest of them. I see how red their faces are and the bags around their eyes. They were tired and I should show some decency.]

Have we made any progress today? I think not. I’m seeing the same sloppy performances I saw yesterday. Once Winston changes the rug you all will do it again and again until I’m satisfied. I don’t care if it takes all night.

[I walk closer to them, looking into her eyes specifically since she’s the only one with the audacity to speak. A dark gleam comes over my eyes, I feel an uncontrolled impulse coming over me. It was dark and unwelcoming.]

If I’m not satisfied I’ll break both of your legs and you’ll never walk the line of another runway again.

[The words slipped from my lips, I can hear the new rhythm of her fast drumming heart. I messed up! I might’ve been thinking it but I didn’t mean to say it. I messed up and now I have to clean this up before it gets out of hand. I pull my dark red painted lips up into a half smile, chuckling softly.

I’ll try masking it as humor to change the tension I’ve created. It must’ve worked because the rest of the models erupted with small awkward laughter. I’m glad it did because that one chuckle felt like it bruised my ribs. I haven’t genuinely laughed at anything for a long time now.]

Consider right now as a break but when that rug is out, it’s back to the top.

[I turn on my heels, heading back towards my office before Winston stops me again. “Oh wait, Beverly is here. She wants to speak with you.”]

She does? Tell her set up an appointment for tomorrow because I’m busy.

[I rolled my eyes, knowing how left every conversation goes with this woman. She was the boss of the woman who’s position I had stolen, which makes Ms.Beverly my boss now.

She was older, looked to be in the middle of her forty’s so I tried to be nice and more patient with her. I could compel my way through everything but I wanted this life I’ve created for myself to feel real.

Just to feel something again, after everything...

if I can.

There was no warning when she came mincing from around the corner, pink skirt and matching top with her brown hair pinned up in curls.

“We need to talk! Your office! Now!” She demanded. I glared at her, thinking that if she had been anyone else her I would’ve slit her throat.

I led the way into my office, shutting the door behind me. I slowly sauntered my way over to my chair behind the desk to have a seat. I relaxed myself, prepared for her yelling that she starts at me.

“I don’t like any of this at all! The looks have changed! I mean tremendously since you’ve been involved. There’s too much skin and everything is black and leather!” She threw her hands in the air. God, this woman is work.]

So what? My models are dressed in the best designs. It’s custom made and not to mention it sales.

[“/My/ models are walking down the aisle holding whips and leashes around their necks. What exactly are you trying to give off?” I can see she was judging me, she might be a little disgusted with me too. I sighed, keeping my cool although I feel like she’s disrespecting my art and that to me is personal.]

Bondage.

[I was honest, crossing my legs over one another to reveal the slit in my leather skirt.

“Alicena the show went from Eves garden to a satanic playroom. It’s unacceptable! Go for something more family friendly or I will call this entire thing quits.”]

Unacceptable? That is just a point of view.

[I wasn’t sure why I went for something that dark either but something about wearing black and leather felt right. Maybe it was apart of who I use to be.

Who I use to be still hasn’t resonated with me yet.

“Excuse me?” Beverly interrupted my thoughts, her eyelids narrowing into slits, glaring at me. Is she offended or she missed what I said before? I don’t know, emotion is hard for me to decipher these days.

I slip up from my seated position, walking around the table slowly. I don’t want to scare her or harm her like I almost did the models. I wanted to be calmer and more calculating.]

What people think matters to you. So I have to ask. Are you scared of being seen as ugly on the outside or the inside?

[“Obviously looks matter. Beauty comes with privilege. Don’t even try to be thoughtful with me. It just makes you look stupid.” She rolled her eyes at me, reaching down inside her purse to grab a pack of cigarettes.

I don’t like the way she speaks to me. It’s making my blood boil.

‘You shouldn’t let her talk to you like that.’

A sudden voice speaks in my mind, one that sounds very similar to mine but the tone was dark and more malice.

‘You never tolerated disrespect. They would lose their tongue or a trachea.’

I almost missed when Beverly started her next stage of rants. First the outfits were the problem. What was next? “And don’t get me started on those hideous paintings you put around. Who the hell is N.M?”

My right perfectly arched brow curved upward, her mention of the paintings left me in confusion. Right... the /paintings/! I had almost forgotten Sabine sends them to me.

She hasn’t visited me since I’ve been here but she does send me things every now and then. I thought the paintings were beautiful and sometimes they remind of me the memories I wish I had full access to.]

You don’t like them so why does it matter? You’re not a painter. Can you draw it?

[How about /I/ draw something instead. Like a line. Beverly was human. Beneath me so she should act accordingly.

“You know what? I was trying to give you some lead way but this isn’t an negotiation. Change it or you’re fired! I don’t even know how you got this position in the first place! You might’ve won everyone over by batting your lashes and sleeping your way to the top but it won’t work with me. I don’t swing that way. Your best bet is to show some real fucking talent or get lost!”

What a bitch!

I was taken back by her words and the new approach. I was expecting her to yell and leave as she always did but this? I hadn’t predicted this. She was trying to force my hand and even threatened to fire me. She also assumed my success came from sleeping with people...

The nerve of this woman. She hasn’t been put in her place and maybe that’s the problem. I scoffed at her, looking her up and down.]

You have a very nasty mouth, Ms. Beverly. Maybe someone should stop you from talking.

[Within enhanced speed my manicured dainty fingers wrap around her throat, forcing her up against the nearest wall surface. The rage I’m feeling alongside the aggression made something snap in me.

I feel the urges that I kept suppressed trying to claw its way out of me. I haven’t killed in months because I was /trying/ to be normal. Whenever I went out to feed, I always made sure that they lived.

Beverly triggered something in me. She talked down on me and I didn’t like it. Who would?

‘You’re a killer, Alice!”

The voice continues to speak to me. I found it alarming because I didn’t hear it unless I thought of violence or felt intrigued by chaos.

‘You don’t want simple. You were never normal and you embraced it.’]

What?

[I could hardly hear Beverlys screaming as my hand squeezed her vocals chords. She starts scratching at my wrists, nails wounding my flesh. She was desperate for air that I don’t want to give her. I wanted to see her suffer but why?

Was this always in my nature?

My way to a peaceful life...

what if that isn’t the way?

What if it is?

I have to quiet this voice in my head. I don’t like it’s influence on me. Ever since I heard /Her/ I started acting on what she wanted.

I dropped Beverly from my intense hold, she stumbled trying to hold onto gravity but failing and fumbling to the floor. I look into her scared eyes, capturing her with my hypnotic gleam.]

Don’t scream and don’t run.

[I turned from her, wrapping manicured digits around my half empty glass of scotch. I needed to calm this urge of wanting my hands around her neck. The part of me that wanted to hear her begging for a mercy she was undeserving of.]

You see? I really don’t want to have to hurt you or anyone else for that matter.

[I bring the glass to my lips for a swig, walking back towards Beverly to get her off the floor. I look into her eyes again, captivating her in my hypnotic glare again.]

Forget everything that happened before. You like the new ideas and you’re going to like everything I do moving forward. Now leave!

[She nodded her head obediently, leaving me alone in my office with all my madness. I exhaled a sigh, walking back to my rolling chair behind the desk. I plop inside, sinking into the black cushion of it.

‘It’s only a matter of time before the /real/ you shows her face again.’

That voice speaks again but this time it sounds like she’s taunting me.]

Stop it!

[I snapped at myself in attempt to quiet my inner monologue but I can’t stop thinking.

The real me? As if I know what that is or what it even consists of.

The only memories and pieces I have of myself are still being put together in my head like a puzzle.

There’s a sudden knock at the door. I look over to see the short dark haired male in a brown sweater coming from behind it, clutching a briefcase at his side.

It was my therapist.

I thought he would be here sooner...

“You didn’t answer so I wasn’t sure if we were still meeting today.”]

No we are I just had an unexpected run in with my boss.

[“Things happen.” He seats himself in the chair in front of my desk, pulling my journal from his black briefcase. “You seem bothered. Anything you want to start off with?”]

The voice- uh- you know from the woman I was hearing in my dreams? Well I’m starting to hear her now and not just in my dreams.

[“Hm... why do you think that is?” He asked as he flips the pages backwards, reading previous notes. “Do you think it has something to do with how violent the dreams are. All the blood and explicit gore you’ve stated before. Would you consider that traumatizing?”]

No. The dreams didn’t bother me because of that. They didn’t necessarily feel like dreams. It feels like they’ve happened before or somethings buried in the back of my mind

[“You feel like you’re missing something?” I shrugged my shoulders, sitting up in the chair.]

No I...

I feel something worst. It’s like someone is inside me trying to claw their way out and I’m scared!

[“And why are you afraid?”]

Because I feel like she’s angry!

[“So it’s a she? Interesting. Well why would she be angry?” He raises his brow, curiosity in his eyes.]

I. Don’t. Know!

[I snapped at him, slipping up from my chair to walk around the desk.]

Maybe because she’s drowning in me. I won’t give her a voice when I hear her crying out! I know I’m holding her back. I get these urges, you know? It’s like she has an influence on me that makes me want to inflict pain and suffering. It’s like I feed on it!

[“I see...” I hear his pen gliding across the paper, noting every other word that comes out of my mouth. “Then why don’t you?”]

Why don’t I... what?

[“ feed on it?”]

Because I know it’s wrong.

[“Do you really feel like it’s wrong or do you say it’s wrong because it’s deemed wrong by society?”

I fall silent, unsure of how to answer him. I’m conflicted and I feel torn. He mentioned if I felt like something was missing so maybe I should start back there.]

What I’m missing is the parts of me that I don’t remember. Something happened and—

[Before I can finish Winston is peaking from around the corner of the door, interrupting me. “Sorry to interrupt, Ms.Alice but do you know a Dominic? He’s here to see you.”]

Who?

[Dominic...

His name made my heart triple it’s pattern. I knew of him and whenever I saw his face in my puzzled memory I knew he meant something just as Sabine did and if not more. I’m still not sure what he means and he wasn’t back in New Orleans when I left.

Wait a minute...

Winston never calls me Alice either. Not that Alice wasn’t a common name for me but he’s never said it. That must’ve been /Dominic’s/ doing.

I start to fidget with the lace trimming of my blouse. It’s not too late to run!

How the hell am I suppose to face him if I hardly know him anymore?

It’ll be wrong of me to pretend that I did especially if he hasn’t heard of everything that happened...

Dominic means something. I can’t deny the part of me that wanted to know what he meant and what everything else meant too. What if he could help me put all the pieces together again? Or The worse, what if I just disappoint him instead?]

|| Part 1||

[godgotthis]

Looking for God Moments

God works in mysterious ways.

I've pretty much been in tears all day. Had to take Winter for a walk. I went to a different place than I have done for years. I just felt I had to go there. I came across a parent from work so ended up chatting with her. I knew she was a nurse but turns out she is a nurse for throat cancer... she helps with swallowing etc among other things.

She was such a blessing to chat with. She was kind, positive... but not unrealistic, but also encouraging.

Another God moment... the phone company suggested I changed my plan. By changing it the cost went down by over $10. 00

And I now get unlimited phone minutes

God moment from yesterday in a short version as possible.

Good Friday service. All christian churches in tawa me at Baptist church then walked to anglican church at the other end of Tawa.

I got there and thought "oh yes of course nobody to speak to.

I said to God it wasn't a condition but I would love confirmation I was going to attend the correct church... "Digbys church"

As I walked to the church I felt all these bad thoughts wrong teachings wrong thinking and attitudes I had held for years fall off me as I walked. By the time I arrived I had a better attitude and felt pretty good about stepping into church.

I went to my traditional favorite pew and sat three spaces in. By myself up the front.

A little old lady sat beside me and asked which church I went To. I said actually first time back in years. She was excited.

How can I help you? This is a great church I think she even called it Digbys church (not a common thing).

Then she for all excited and told me this is a God moment. I'm so excited. I was meant to sit beside you.

She had to find a pew with three seats from the aisle.

Everyone had 2 but there I was 3 seats.

Anyway I told her she can hold her when she asked how she could help me... hold me accountable to get my sorry butt back in here every Sunday. I have been disobedient and rebellious against God ... no more.

Anyway she asked at end of service of she could introduce me to Digby. I panicked this was a no go zone for me cos ya know he's the one I would never speak to etc at the old church.

She was disappointed but quickly pulled out her happy again saying that she needed me too... her daughters live fat away and all sorts. It's nice to speak to me. She said she's a double cancer survivor and recently lost her husband to cancer.

At that I cracked and gave her a hug and said oh you have no idea. You've just said that word. I proceeded to tell her that I had no intention of telling anyone.

She was extra happy to be used by God and said oh you really must meet Digby

So I agreed. Felt brave.

Digby came over. Introduction etc. She told him everything.

He asked if I had any church experience. I said I had been going to church from1 week old until my late 20s early 30s. I had HORRIBLE church experiences and walked out and never went back.

I explained that God's been telling me to go back to church for the last 4 years, specifically to Digbys church.

I said to him I've been disobedient rebellious and sinful and just refused to.

He stopped me.. who's been telling you to go to Digbys church people??? Or God?? I said God... but this Wednesday just gone a person from my dad's church went to him and told him that she didn't know which part of wellington I lived in but I had to go to Digbys church. Little did she know that it's right up the road from me... walking distance if I'm not lazy.

I confessed that I was ashamed that it took my husband's diagnosis to get me to obey.

He was very kind and said "you're here now. Are you coming on Sunday? I said yes ... and this lovely lady will kick my butt if I don't.

She was so excited. God's still using me. She said I'll leave you two to it. Anxious me made sure we weren't alone lol.

Then Digby asked if he could pray for me. I saw his hand go up and I cringed I did not want that religious shoulder touch of prayer. He didn't do that. I put his hand out open Palm up... would you like to hold my hand in prayer... I paused freaking out. He said it's OK you don't have to. It was such a brave step of faith to trust this guy. I put my hand firmly in his he prayed... all the right words.

Then didn't do the rubbish huggy stuff asked if I was coming to tea and hot cross buns

I said no I've held it together for a while... I've done well. I don't think I can last much longer. At that I left feeling better.

Later in afternoon Judith rang me. I'm meeting her at her house next Thursday at 1.30pm. It's at her house so I can break down and dissolve in 10000 pieces and she can support me through it.

To fill in the missing details.

I stopped going to church in Tga because pastor 1 was a sexual predator who I had to protect my son from.

Pastor 2s wife thought I was trying to steal her hubby or something when I had a single conversation with him about children because I was watching to see of he was a sexual predator. He was not... but she was insecure... I didn't need that.

Then there was Digby. I decided I was never ever going to speak to him or let him near me or my children but I'd go to church. He was the first pastor I felt I COULD trust but chose not to. I figured I could just hide in church, watch sermon, join a few groups etc but stay far away from him... just incase.

Digby then moved to Auckland. I told people that if I ever found out which church he was ministering I that I would attend that church. Not long later I moved to wellington... never going to happen right??

[kepamount]

part thirty-seven - dream come true

blue moon 🌙 - MM19xreader, smau, crack comedy, fluff, angst and smut

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a/n: and here is the thirty-seventh part of blue moon!! it's been months omg, i really hope this is worth the wait!! lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

taglist 🤍: @masesangel @moneymasnn @rmvb24 @sad-fridge2323 @shannon-jade-99 @lazysportsfanfornhl @user8292 @japanesekel @ofxinnocence @heli991113 @audreyhereee @ithinkimokeei @blue-k-98 @sugarwatermelon @chxrryrose @untitled92260 @silverlightprincess

‘y/n! Hurry!’ Isla calls from across the beach, and I roll my eyes amusedly, rising up from my seat and lifting up my lehenga skirt so I don’t trip over the hem. Steph picked my lehenga out and even though it’s absolutely beautiful– a blue so light it almost looks white – I’m wishing I’d worn something else because it’s a bit heavy. My arms begin to ache as I walk to where all of the unmarried women stand in an excited little gaggle, waiting for the bride to throw her bouquet.

I glance over at Steph as I walk across the sand, my heart melting as it has done every time I’ve looked at her throughout the day. The smile hasn’t left her face for single moment. She looks absolutely radiant, the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and I don’t think I could possibly be happier for her and Ben.

Ben’s been almost as excitable as Steph all day, laughing and joking with his bride and his groomsmen at every possible opportunity. His cheeks must hurt from the way he’s been grinning nonstop. Though I suppose all of us are just as happy as him. It’s been the perfect day.

Our flight landed yesterday morning, giving us enough time to spend a few hours sunbathing on the beach, and the boys’ flight landed in the evening, so we made sure to have Steph hidden away in the villa before Ben could see her. We’ve kept them separated for a week, knowing their reunion today was gonna be much sweeter after the distance.

The ceremony didn’t start until late afternoon so we had almost all day to get ready, all of us swanning around the villa in our matching dressing gowns with glasses of wine in our hands, taking plenty of time with our hair and makeup and outfits. As the maid of honour, I had to equally split my time between getting myself ready and getting Steph ready, but I didn’t mind too much – she’s been so relaxed all day so I didn’t feel any stress at all.

The ceremony went so smoothly – no-one tripped down the aisle, no-one lost the rings, there were no interruptions or hiccups, and neither of them fucked up their vows. In fact, their vows were beautiful – there wasn’t a single dry eye in the wedding party.

As soon as the ceremony was over, we went back to our own villas to change into different outfits for the reception, coming back down to the beach at sunset. We gave our speeches – the bride and groom’s parents, and the maid of honour and the best man. Me and Mason worked on our speeches together, perfecting them, and we’d spent so long on them that we’d managed to memorise each other’s as well as our own – I was reciting his in my head as he read it out loud, smiling to myself about how good the final product was.

Then we toasted to the bride and groom, and the food was brought out. As soon as we were finished eating, we all got up to dance, having spent the last few hours singing and dancing along with the music, having the time of our lives.

Most of the guests, including my family, have gone back to the hotel that we hired out for the wedding party, leaving just Ben and Steph’s close family and friends, and a few of the drunker people who would stay out here partying until sunrise if they could. The wedding planner’s staff have taken all our things up from the villa to the hotel for us – I would have been happy to stay in the villa tonight but the other girls all said they wanted to share rooms with their boyfriends, so we’re moving up to the hotel instead.

But now it’s time for the bouquet toss. Steph wanted to preserve her actual bouquet, so she had two smaller versions made – one to throw, and one for Isla and Cal’s baby, when the little angel is born. Isla’s holding it now, the petals of it resting against her massive baby bump, and she’s leaning against Callum with a tired smile.

She’s 8 months along now, though her stomach is round enough that I keep wondering if the baby might decide to make an appearance any second. We were all worried about her flying, Steph even suggesting we postpone the wedding until after Isla’s given birth or just move the wedding domestically, but Isla insisted that they didn’t make any changes, having a full medical team on board the flight to make sure she and the baby would be okay.

She was nervous for Steph’s reaction at the start, but there was nothing to worry about because Steph was ecstatic. The pregnancy affecting the wedding didn’t even cross her mind, and we’ve all been trying our best to make sure both the wedding and the pregnancy have had equal attention and haven’t been interfering with each other.

To make life simpler, Isla and Steph decided that I would have to be the only maid of honour because we all knew that Isla wouldn’t be able to do all of the duties so far into her pregnancy. She’s still been very involved though, and partied it up with the rest of us at Steph’s hen-do. I’m sure she’d be spending the entire night on the dancefloor tonight if she could, but she’s barely been able to stand up for longer than ten minutes at a time with her swollen feet.

She’d also be in the middle of this group, fighting to the death to get her hands on the bouquet, but Cal would probably shackle her to himself if she tried now – he’s been so protective over her these past few months. It’s been so nice to watch the way he dotes on her, so loving and caring and excited to start a family with her.

And Ben and Steph have been so cute to watch too, with their pre-marital bliss. They’re already so domestic, on the exact same wavelength – they laugh at each other’s jokes without even having to hear the punchline, and they haven’t argued once over wedding planning. Both couples are perfect together.

Mason and I are a slightly different story. Our relationship is still very much platonic, despite how we’ve spent the last 10 months glued together by the hip. We’ve leant into romance every now and then – his hand resting too low on my back, our fingers brushing together too lingeringly, our eyes locking together for just a moment too long – but he’s been respecting my wishes, which I appreciate.

When we got back home from rehab, I told him I wanted to take life a lot slower. Enjoy the journey, let things happen naturally, not spend my entire life rushing. And I told him that included us, which he agreed with. To be fair, I didn’t think it’d be this slow. I was expecting it to take a few months, half a year max. But it’s not long ‘til we get to a year since I left rehab, and we’re still just friends.

But it’s been fun regardless. Spending so much time with him, without any expectations. I go to all his matches and he comes to all my shows. We’ve been on a few short holidays together, and we spend every single one of his days off together, usually on some sort of daytrip to the beach or to a theme park. And we’ve spent so much time helping with wedding planning, and helping get things ready for the baby.

Some days, we’d be at a cake tasting in the morning and then a furniture shop to order a crib in the afternoon. At the hospital for a scan in the morning and at a florist to choose flowers for a bouquet in the afternoon. Meeting the wedding planner to discuss venues and colour schemes followed by shopping for baby clothes. Painting the nursery followed by a dress fitting in the afternoon (yes, Mason somehow managed to worm himself into coming to the dress fittings and got to see Steph’s wedding dresses before anyone else other than me, Isla and Steph’s mum, which he gloated about at every opportunity).

Every minute of every day with Mason is fun, but my favourite days are the days when he comes over early in the morning, when I’m still fast asleep. He climbs into bed with me, pulling me into his arms and burying his head in my neck.

We get up a couple hours later and cook breakfast together, covering the kitchen surfaces (and each other) with the ingredients, before collapsing down onto the sofa and putting on an episode of the Netflix series we’re watching at the time.

We either spend the entire day lazing around the house, napping and eating and watching TV, or he drives me to the recording studio or the dance studio or an interview or whatever I’ve got in my schedule for the day. And he sits there, watching me write music or sing or dance or talk to the camera about whichever stupid topic the interviewer’s asked me about. He always has this look on his face, a mixture of pride and awe and affection and something else, something so strong and raw that it would make my heart stop momentarily.

I look over at him now, stood only a few feet away, dressed in a very flattering black suit, laughing with Trev. He used to lift a hand to run through his hair when he was laughing but he lost that habit when he had his buzzcut.

When Mason sent a message into the groupchat saying that he was at the barber’s, I facetimed him straight away, insisting he kept me on facetime whilst he got his haircut. My heart sunk lower and lower as his barber cut more and more of his hair off, and I couldn’t hide my hatred of the buzzcut at the start (I may or may not have shed some tears as I watched his hair fall to the floor). Mason didn’t really like it either but he did it to shut the haters up on twitter, which I couldn’t really fault him for.

He’s let it grow out now, not as long as it used to be but much better than the buzzcut. He used to have those boyish good looks with his longer hair, but this shorter hair makes him look much manlier, and the change in his physique only adds to that effect. He’s really bulked up – his shoulders are broader, his chest is stronger, his arms are bigger, and don’t even get me started on his thighs.

But my favourite features on him are the same at they always have been – those big brown eyes with their mischievous sparkle, and the happy grin he wears so often. It’s on his face now, my stomach filling with butterflies as I watch him.

My feelings for him go well past friendship, that’s for sure. All I can do is hope that his feelings match mine, though I can’t help but doubt it more and more with each day that goes past without him making a move.

‘Hoping to catch the bouquet, y/n?’ Soph teases, noticing where my eyes are focused and nudging me. ‘Definitely not,’ I say drily, Soph and Sasha both raising their eyebrows at me. ‘Why? Don’t act like you’re not completely obsessed with him, y/n, because it’s clear that you are,’ Sasha says pointedly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Whether or not I’m obsessed with him is beside the point. I don’t want him to feel rushed into a relationship with me if that’s not what he wants,’ I say mildly, and both of their mouths fall open. ‘Are you being serious? You think he doesn’t want a relationship with you?’ Soph demands, and I let out a soft laugh.

Before I can respond, the girls around me all gasp, and the three of us quickly turn to see the bouquet flying through the air. Right towards me. Before I can react, the stems of the flowers whack off my forehead, and I let out a little yelp of pain, stumbling backwards a couple steps with my hand pressed to my head.

The heel of my shoe catches on my lehenga skirt and I almost go flying, losing my footing and feeling myself falling back towards the floor. Before I hit the sand, a pair of arms come around me, keeping me upright, and I look up to see Mason. He helps steady me, only letting go when I’m firm on my feet, everyone watching with a mixture of concern and amusement, and I let out an embarrassed laugh.

‘I’m fine. Just clumsy. And in pain after Steph’s murder attempt,’ I say pointedly, the girl rushing over to see if I’m okay. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says through giggles, pulling me into a hug, and I roll my eyes, hugging her back. ‘That was intentional. You literally chucked it at me,’ I murmur so only she can hear, and I can feel her laughing against me as she says, ‘you’ll thank me later.’

She lets go of me, handing me the bouquet from where it’s been abandoned on the floor, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Does it count as mine if it hits off my forehead?’ I say drily, everyone laughing. ‘Of course. It chose you,’ Steph grins, and I just shake my head amusedly at her.

The DJ starts the music up again, everyone falling into their own conversations, and Steph heads over to her husband who’s waiting for her on the dancefloor, leaving me stood with Mason. ‘How’s your head?’ he chuckles, and I shoot him a look.

‘Great attempt at sympathy.’ ‘I’m sorry. It was funny though. Here, let me kiss it better,’ he murmurs, leaning to press a kiss to my forehead, sending a shiver through me. He puts an arm around my waist, the two of us stood side-by-side as we watch the others dancing.

‘Looks like you’ll be getting married next then,’ he says after a few long moments of silence between us, and I laugh, looking down at the white bouquet in my hand. ‘I don’t know about that. Kai and Soph will probably be next,’ I say, watching the two of them together, Soph forcing Kai to dance even though he’s terrible at it.

‘We’ll have to beat them to it,’ he jokes, my heart skipping a beat. ‘We?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he grins easily. ‘Of course. We’re the best man and the maid of honour – it’d be tradition for us to be together. And anyway… no other idiot is gonna tie himself down to you, is he? It’ll have to be me. I’ll take one for the team,’ he sighs, as though it’s the worst task in the world, and I gasp offendedly, hitting him on the shoulder as he laughs.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking, y/n!’ he exclaims, pulling me into his arms so I stand with my back pressed against his front, his chin resting on my shoulder. He feels so big like this, his hard chest and big arms enveloping me in a warm and safe embrace.

‘It would be an honour to… tie myself down to you,’ he says amusedly, and I roll my eyes. ‘Tie yourself down? You make it sound like it’s a sacrifice. Like you’re committing yourself to a life of handcuffs,’ I point out, and he chuckles softly, warm breath fanning down across my bare chest.

‘A life of handcuffs? Kinky, but I’m down. As long as you unlock them on match days. I don’t think I’d be able to play very well with the bedpost hanging off one arm,’ he jokes, making me laugh despite myself, ignoring the dirty part of what he just said. ‘Can’t be any worse than how you normally play,’ I tease, the boy laughing, and I can feel the vibrations through his chest, making me feel warm.

‘Excuse me, y/n. I’ll have you know that I’m Chelsea’s Player of the Season, two years in a row,’ he murmurs amusedly, and I let out a soft laugh. ‘Maybe this season, you should focus more on getting past the Champions League quarter final instead of Player of the Season awards,’ I giggle, and he lets out an offended noise. ‘Ouch. That was low,’ he says, pretending to look hurt when he turns me around to face him, keeping one of my hands in his.

‘Don’t worry. The trophy’s coming back to London this season,’ he says confidently, and I bite my lip to hold giggles before I speak. ‘You really think Spurs can win it?’ I ask, both of us laughing after that. ‘Absolutely not. We’ll be the ones bringing it back. It’ll have dark blue ribbons on it,’ he says assuredly, and I just raise an eyebrow at him.

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ I tease, and he just shakes his head, pulling me into his arms. ‘You don’t have enough faith in me.’ ‘Because I’m, like, 99% sure it’s not gonna happen,’ I say, both of us well aware how much of a lie that is (I’m Chelsea’s biggest fan – if anyone believes we can win it all, it’s me), and he just chuckles.

‘I’ll prove you wrong. And then I’ll make you eat your words,’ he grins, and I tilt my head questioningly, heart fluttering. ‘Yeah? How, exactly?’ ‘When we win, I’ll get my medal, and then I’ll bring you down onto the pitch, and you can put the medal on. And when you’re posting selfies on your Instagram, wearing my Champions League Winners medal, you’ll realise you were wrong,’ he says, tone sounding like there’s more he wants to say, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows again.

‘That doesn’t sound much like making my eat my words. That’s more of a reward, don’t you think? Not really a punishment,’ I reply, and his eyes darken very slightly. ‘Oh, so it’s punishment you’re after? Don’t worry, babe, I’ve got plenty of ideas on how to punish you. Most of them involving-’ ‘y/n! Mason! Come and dance! It’s the last song!’ Steph calls, both of us snapping out of our little bubble, and Mason instantly leads me over to the dancefloor with a little grin on his face.

I put it out of my mind, trying not to think about what he just said, and instead I enjoy the last song at my best friends’ wedding, my heart full as I dance with the people I love more than anything else. We sing the lyrics out at top volume, my voice sure to be hoarse in the morning, but I don’t even care. The smile on Steph’s face is giving me enough happiness to last the rest of my life – I can deal with a sore throat, even if Lisa won’t be happy about it.

When the DJ ends the music and bids us goodnight, we chant for another song but he’s already packing away, so Ben starts playing Blue Is The Colour from his phone. The boys erupt into loud cheers as Steph exchanges an exasperated glance with me, making me hold back laughter. ‘What you got this rubbish on for? Play Blue Moon,’ Jack grins, Ben pretending to swing for him.

The boys belt out the lyrics, somehow managing to pull me and Steph into their huddle, and we cling onto each other to keep ourselves upright, giggling uncontrollably as the boys jump up and down, knocking us around. When the chorus ends, we push our way out of the huddle, the other girls dying of laughter, and I feel the most contented feeling in my heart at seeing the smiles on everyone’s faces.

We begin to make our way up to the hotel slowly, getting distracted every few seconds with the boys’ stupid drunken behaviour. My feet are killing me in my heels and I link my arm through Mason’s, leaning on him for support. ‘Want my shoes?’ he offers, and I shake my head, laughing. ‘I’m okay. Thank you, though.’ ‘Are you sure? I’ll carry you if you want,’ he grins, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘I don’t think you’re strong enough to carry me and this lehenga together. This skirt is heavy as hell,’ I say, and he looks sceptical. ‘It can’t be that heavy if you’re managing to wear it.’ ‘Excuse me, Mr Mount. Are you calling me a weakling?’ I ask confrontationally, and he gives me a look. ‘Yes. Because you are a weakling.’

‘Says you. Your knees nearly buckled last time you lifted me,’ I remind him, and he rolls his eyes. ‘y/n, I’d played 90 minutes and you jumped into my arms as soon as I walked through the door. I was tired and surprised. In other circumstances, I could lift you a lot easier and for a lot longer,’ he says reasonably.

‘Excuses of a weakling,’ I tease. ‘No weakling has arms like this,’ he says proudly, flexing an arm, and his bicep strains against his suit jacket. Now I’m the one whose knees are buckling. ‘Those arms are deceptive. They can barely lift one of my holiday suitcases, let alone me.’ ‘It’s because you overpack. Your holiday suitcases are ridiculously heavy. I could lift you easily. For… 12 minutes at least,’ he smirks, the random number making my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

‘That’s an oddly specific amount of time.’ ‘It’s the amount of time I’d need to get you there a couple times,’ he grins, my stomach turning, and I roll my eyes. ‘You wouldn’t last that long.’ ‘I wouldn’t? Says the one who started crying three minutes in,’ he taunts, and I nudge him to shut him up, looking around to make sure no one’s listening. Good thing they’re all too busy pulling Dec out of a bush.

‘You’re saying that like there wasn’t a build-up. I almost spent ten minutes cutting up the bloody pizza while you were teasing me, so you can’t try and use that against me,’ I say defensively, and he just chuckles. ‘Ten minutes is nothing. I could do worse.’ ‘You wouldn’t be able to resist that long,’ I grin, and he raises an eyebrow.

‘I’ve been resisting for a year and a quarter,’ he says pointedly, my heart skipping a beat. ‘You’ve been resisting me for a year and a quarter. There were probably plenty of other girls you didn’t resist,’ I say offhandedly, and he just looks at me in mild shock.

‘You don’t seriously think I’ve been sleeping around that whole time, do you?’ ‘Not sleeping around, as such. But sleeping with other girls? Yeah, of course,’ I say, and he lets out a harsh laugh, like he’s not at all amused. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone since you in Greece,’ he says shortly, the air around us quickly turning cold. Unease fills my chest at how tense he is now, though I can still feel the way my heart leaps at hearing that he hasn’t slept with anyone since me.

‘Mase…’ I begin quietly, but he waves me off instantly. ‘It’s alright. You don’t have to apologise or anything. It was a valid thing to think. But I was being serious when I said I would wait a lifetime for you, and that hasn’t changed. You still mean just as much to me now as you did then,’ he says softly as we near the hotel entrance, the others slightly behind us.

Before I can reply, Ben joins us, clapping his hands down on our shoulders with a massive grin on his face. ‘Best man. Maid of honour. You know you two have to fuck tonight?’ he says bluntly. All those celebratory drinks must have worn down his filter. Mason starts choking in shock, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Ben, that’s the newlyweds. We’re not the ones consummating a marriage,’ I say slowly, like I’m having to teach something to a toddler, and he rolls his eyes.

‘We’ll be fucking, don’t worry about that. But it’s tradition for the best man and the maid of honour to do it too. Usually in a broom cupboard during the reception or something, but I don’t think the two of you disappeared at any point, so you’ll have to make do with the suite I booked for you,’ he says cheerfully, Mason letting out a fed-up sigh.

‘The last time you interfered, she ended up in rehab,’ he says drily, Ben choking this time as I burst into laughter. ‘It’s not gonna happen again. And, anyway, it’s not interfering. Everyone else has got suites as well,’ he says mildly, Mason raising an eyebrow. ‘Everyone else is in relationships.’

‘When are you two gonna stop lying to yourselves? You’re in just as much of a relationship as the rest of us are,’ he says, Mason and I silent. What am I supposed to say? Yeah, I’d love to stop lying and be with him, but he won’t make a fucking move. ‘God, don’t both of you speak at once,’ Ben says sarcastically, Mason and I laughing.

‘There’s two rooms in your suite. Two separate beds,’ Ben says lightly as we walk into the hotel lobby, leaving us stood alone as he goes to get all our keycards from the reception desk. ‘Bagsy the bigger room,’ Mason jokes, and I roll my eyes. ‘We never sleep in separate beds,’ I say, and it’s the truth. Every holiday, every trip, even when we stay the night at each other’s houses, we always share one bed. ‘Maybe we should,’ he says cryptically, my heart dropping.

Callum’s appearance stops me from replying this time, and I find myself cursing both of my best friends’ other halves. ‘Mason, can you come to mine and Isla’s room for a couple minutes?’ he asks, Mason’s eyes widening slightly. ‘Um… I love you, bro, and I love Isla too, but not like that-’ ‘Bro, shut up,’ Callum laughs, shaking his head.

‘Isla’s got this pregnancy bed thing that she’s been using and she needs me to set it up but I don’t know what I’m doing.’ ‘Doesn’t Isla know how to do it?’ Mason asks, Callum raising an eyebrow as he glances over at her. She’s leaning back in an armchair, her eyes fluttering shut every few seconds, and my heart aches for her. She must have been so tired, but she’s been putting on a brave face and staying chirpy for Steph.

‘Calm, bro, don’t worry. I’ll help,’ Mason says straight away as Ben comes over with our keycards. We all head up in the lift together, Jack and Declan jumping to make the lift jolt before Isla whacks them over the head with her bouquet. Our suites are all on the same floor, and we bid each other goodnight as we split off through our own doors. ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Mason says before following Cal and Isla, leaving me to enter our room alone.

I shut the door behind me and head into one of the bedrooms, the silence making me feel on edge. The first thing I do is turn on the TV and put MTV on, playing some music to fill the deathly quiet. I unpack my bag quickly before getting out of my lehenga, my body relieved at no longer being weighed down by the layers and layers of material.

I let myself lie on the bed in just my underwear for a minute or two, enjoying the cold air from the aircon on my skin and thinking about Mason. Maybe it sounds crazy but I really had started to doubt whether he still felt the same about me. But now, in the space of two minutes, he’s reiterated that he’d wait a lifetime for me and then said that maybe we should sleep in different beds. The mixed messages are really not it.

I let out a sigh, getting up off the bed and grabbing my Mount shirt. It’s the one he gave me before I went to LA, and it’s all soft and practically threadbare at this point because of how much I’ve worn it. Mason keeps telling me to throw this one away and wear one of the other trillion Mount shirts I own, but none of them mean as much to me as this one does. Getting rid of this would be like throwing away a piece of my heart.

I wash off my makeup and finish my skincare routine with my legs crossed on the bed, scrolling through tiktok and having to watch every video multiple times because I keep getting distracted with thoughts of Mason. I feel like my body’s crackling with electricity as I wait for him, desperate to just speak to him and finally sort things out. I’m tired of this back and forth – my commitment issues are hating me right now but I need to define our relationship.

I hear the door open as I’m spraying on some rose water, and I have to take a deep breath to try and slow my heartbeat, embarrassed at myself for getting so excited at him literally walking into our hotel suite. ‘y/n!’ he calls and I practically leap out of the bed, feeling even more embarrassed at myself. ‘I’m in the bedroom!’ I call back, listening out for footsteps. Instead, I hear cupboards opening and closing, and I know he’s looking for a snack in the kitchen.

‘Which one?’ he calls back amusedly, and I roll my eyes to myself, walking across the room to the door and sticking my head out. I know him too well, the sight of him rooting around in the snack drawer making me smile. ‘This one,’ I say, the boy looking up with his beautiful grin, white shirt tight on his body and eyes sparkling in the warm kitchen lights, and the realisation hits me like a ton of bricks.

I’m completely, totally, hopelessly in love with Mason Mount.

It feels like my heart’s exploding in my chest as he tilts his head, motioning for me to join him. I walk across the room slowly and he watches me as I do so, looking at me like I’m a vision of beauty even though I probably look a mess with my natural face, even more so wearing just the worn Mount shirt. I take his outstretched hand and let him pull me into his arms. He holds me against his chest with a hand splayed on my back, and the other strokes my hair softly, light tingles dancing across my scalp.

I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, and the warmth of his body seeps through his skin to mine, thawing me out. He pulls away from me after a few moments, and I ache for him, the inches between us feeling like so much more.

‘What’s up? You seem… off,’ he says, leaning against the counter, and I don’t speak for a moment, just looking at him. He’s discarded his suit jacket, his muscles straining against his shirt, the black ink of his tattoos visible through the thin white cotton. He’s also taken off his tie, the top couple buttons open to reveal a thin gold chain around his neck.

‘We need to talk,’ I blurt out, meeting his eyes to stop myself from ogling his handsome figure, and he raises an amused eyebrow. ‘Do we? What about?’ ‘Us,’ I reply, and he lets out a soft sigh, turning away from me and leaning on the counter with his forearms pressed against the marble. His side profile is so pretty, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw strong and nose prominent. God, I love his nose. I wanna si-

‘I disagree. I don’t think we need to talk about it,’ he says heavily, pushing the thirsty thoughts out of my head and replacing them with nerves. ‘Why not?’ ‘You already know how I feel about you, and it’s torture for me to keep telling you in a trillion different ways only to be brushed off or rejected again,’ he says, my mouth dropping open.

‘Rejected?’ I echo, and he looks at me with just as much disbelief in his face as what I’m feeling. ‘Yes, y/n. You’ve rejected me more times than I can count.’ ‘When have I ever rejected you?’ I demand, and he lets out a humourless laugh. ‘Every single time I flirt with you or talk about us as a couple, you get all quiet and awkward like you feel uncomfortable. And that’s fine – you don’t have to like me back. But stop stringing me along. Say it as it is,’ he says tiredly, and I’m lost for words. He thinks I don’t like him?

‘Mason, you can’t be serious,’ I say, voice soft with shock, and he just looks at me for a few seconds. ‘Yeah, I am being serious. You make me think I have a chance, when you reciprocate my affection and intimacy and flirting, but then you shut me down when you completely ignore my feelings. It’s like… you give me the green light so I put my foot down, but then you turn back to amber. You’re clearly not interested. So if you wanna have this conversation to get me to back off, I understand, and I’ll stop,’ he says, defeat tinging his voice, and I feel my heart ache more with each word.

How can two people who spend so much time together be on such different pages? How can he not know what he means to me? ‘We need to work on our communication,’ I say after a momentary silence, and he raises an eyebrow, looking like he’s holding back laughter. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I can’t believe that you think I want you to back off,’ I reply quietly, and he just stares at me expressionlessly. ‘So… you don’t want me to change the way I treat you?’ he asks slowly, like he’s confused, and I let out an irritated noise.

‘Of course I don’t want that, Mason! I don’t want you to stop with the flirting or the intimacy or the affection, the dirty jokes or the compliments, the way you look at me or the way you hold my hand. There’s only one thing I want you to change,’ I say all in one breath, my heart hammering in the chest at the thought of what I’m about to say. He looks taken aback, surprised at my sudden outburst, and he remains silent, waiting for me to finish speaking.

‘I want you to change… what our relationship is. I need you to make a move. A proper move, not cracking a joke about us getting married or telling everyone I’m off limits. How can you spend all this time showing me so much love but you still haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend? The reason I get quiet when you talk about us as a couple is because I’m confused, Mase. You make me think you want me but you haven’t asked me to be yours yet! I know I said I need time, but I didn’t mean nearly a whole year!’ I exclaim, the two of us just staring at each other, the only noise the music floating faintly from the bedroom and my deep breaths.

After a long few seconds, he holds a hand out again and I take it, letting him pull me into another hug. I slide my arms around him, feeling the contours of his body, the curves of his muscles beneath my fingers, and I let my hands travel up his back, letting my nails run through the short and soft hairs at the nape of his neck. He presses his hands into my back to hold me close, impossibly close, like he’s trying to intertwine our two bodies into one, and I can hear his heartbeat through his chest, a slow and steady rhythm that makes me feel safe. He feels like home to me, and he always will.

‘We’ve spent more time together in the past few months than we’ve spent with anyone else. Maybe we should have spent some of that time talking about our feelings for each other,’ he says lightly, making me laugh into his shirt. ‘You think? It would’ve saved us a lot of stress,’ I say drily, and he chuckles, the vibrations reverberating around his chest and making him skin hum against mine.

‘Listen, y/n,’ he says seriously, moving apart slightly so we can look at each other, his hands still resting on my back and my arms still looped around him. ‘If at any point since Santorini, even for a second, I made you think that I don’t want you to be mine, I’m so sorry. Because it’s what I want more than anything else. You mean everything to me. You’re the most amazing girl in the world. You’re funny and compassionate, and so talented, and you’re far too clever for me to keep up with you, but I’d happily spend my whole life trying anyway. You’re so beautiful that I literally feel my heart stop every time I look at you, and your smile makes me melt. You’re strong and you don’t take my shit and you always help me to stay humble. You can be a bitch but I love it because it makes your sweet moments even sweeter. You’re a legend and a star and a queen and an angel and an absolute dream come true. It’d be the honour of a lifetime if you were mine,’ he says softly with the most handsome smile on his face and so much love in his eyes.

By the time he’s finished speaking, tears are running down my face, and I can’t stop myself from beaming, heart overflowing with love for him, love so strong I can feel it thrumming through my veins with the rhythm of my pulse. How could I be so lucky to fall in love with someone so perfect, and even luckier to have his love in return?

‘I love you, y/n, but it’s more than that. It’s so strong. I feel it with every part of my body, every piece of my heart. I’m in love with you. I have been since the day I met you, and I will be for the rest of my life. Even longer than that, actually,’ he adds on, making me let out a watery laugh. ‘Even when you’re dead?’ I ask, and he nods with a content smile on his face. ‘Forever, babe.’ ‘I’m in love with you too,’ I smile, hands on the back of his neck to pull him down towards me.

When our lips press together, it feels like it’s the first time, a piece of my heart slotting into place, making me feel whole. There’s none of the fire and passion, the lust and desperation of all our previous kisses. This one is steady and slow, like he knows he has the rest of his life to kiss me to his heart’s content. There are no wandering hands or clashing tongues. His fingers press into my back with a soft pressure, and his lips move against mine with nothing but love. He doesn’t taste like tequila or saltwater. He tastes like warmth and home.

When we break apart, we’re both smiling like lovestruck idiots, and I keep my eyes locked with his, trying to brand this moment into my mind for eternity. ‘Aren’t you gonna ask me then?’ I ask with a smile, and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow questioningly though he knows exactly what I mean. ‘Ask you what?’ ‘To be your girlfriend,’ I say with a roll of my eyes, the boy contemplating the question for a moment.

‘I don’t want you to be my girlfriend, though,’ he says, confusion filling me. ‘What?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘I don’t want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my wife,’ he says casually, my heart stopping momentarily. ‘…Your wife?’ I echo, and he laughs at my shock. I feel like I can’t breathe as I watch him let go of me and reach into his back pocket, pulling out a small blue velvet box. A ring box. I gasp, hand covering my mouth as he gets down onto one knee, looking up at me with big brown eyes full of hope.

‘I know you want a big fancy proposal with a huge diamond on an engagement ring, so consider this a… pre-proposal. Like a verbal agreement before signing the contract,’ he explains, the football reference making my roll my eyes, and I nod to get him to carry on, the boy laughing at my impatience. ‘And I know you don’t want to get married for a while yet, so that’s also something we can come back to in a few years. But I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and how much I want you to be mine,’ he says softly, before holding up the ring box and opening it, prompting another gasp.

It’s the Van Cleef and Arpels butterfly ring, but this one’s customised, silver with sapphires set into it. It perfectly matches the blue butterfly pendant on the bracelet he bought me in Santorini, the one that’s on my wrist right now and has been every day since he took me to rehab. It’s so beautiful that it brings tears to my eyes. He had this made for me.

‘I’m in love with you, y/n, and that feeling grows more and more every single day. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, every waking moment and every sleeping moment too. I want to have a family with you and grow old with you and go through photo albums with our grandchildren to show them how beautiful their nani or dadi was. So… would you do me the honour of being my wife? y/n… will you marry me?’ he asks, eyes bright with tears, and I nod, steadily crying with the biggest smile on my face, heart full.

‘Yes, Mason. I’ll marry you,’ I whisper, wonder on his face, as though he can’t believe his luck. I grab his hands, pulling him up from the floor and throwing myself at him in a hug, his disbelieving laughter making my skin warm. ‘I’m so in love with you, Mason Mount,’ I say as I pull him into a kiss, his lips curving up into a smile against mine, butterflies filling my stomach.

He breaks away after a few seconds, eager to put the ring on me, and he slides it onto my left ring finger. It’s the first time I’ve ever worn a ring there, having spent my life saving it for an engagement ring, and it fits perfectly, my heart melting at the sight of it on my hand. I hold it up to the light, admiring it, and he pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘I love it.’ ‘I love you,’ he says instantly, the words making me warm, and I laugh, kissing him again.

‘We’re not gonna tell the others, are we?’ I ask, and he shakes his head. ‘We’ll keep it a secret for a bit. To everyone else, we’re just boyfriend and girlfriend. We can’t tell them all that we’re engaged on Steph and Ben’s wedding day, and I’ll save the proper proposal until after the baby’s born. Let everyone have their moments, and we can share ours with them after,’ he says sensibly, and I nod in agreement. ‘Our little secret,’ I say, and he lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing the ring instead of my skin this time, the action making my stomach turn with excitement. He’s really put a ring on my finger – I’m engaged!

‘It’s so beautiful, Mase. It’s perfect.’ ‘Perfect ring for my perfect fiancée,’ he says softly, my heart skipping a beat at the word. ‘Mason Mount’s my fiancé. Oh, yeah, that’s my fiancé, Mason Mount. My fiancé’s a professional footballer for Chelsea and England. No, I’m not here alone – I’m here with Mason Mount, my fiancé. Lisa, can you reserve a seat in the front row for my fiancé please? My fiancé scored a goal today, did you see? Oh yes, me and my fiancé summered in the Bahamas this year,’ I test the word out, putting on a snooty voice as Mason laughs at my roleplay.

‘Summered? Who uses that word these days?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘People who have a fiancé. I’m gonna have to start using all sorts of new words now. Charcuterie and sandalwood and opera-’ ‘Babe, being engaged doesn’t mean we have to turn into rich people from Downtown Abbey or something,’ he laughs, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I beg to differ. I need to start training to be your trophy wife, and I don’t wanna be a typical WAG. I wanna be serving businessman’s wife, not footballer’s wife,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes amusedly.

‘Maybe you should marry a businessman instead then.’ ‘Maybe I should,’ I reply simply, and he gives me a look. ‘Don’t even think about it. You’re mine, y/n,’ he reminds me, the words echoing in my head like the perfect melody. You’re mine, y/n. ‘I’m yours,’ I agree, ‘and you’re mine too, Mason Mount. Always and forever.’ ‘I’m glad you know it,’ he murmurs, pressing his lips to mine in an innocent kiss, though when he breaks away this time, I feel myself wanting more.

‘Show me,’ I whisper, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Show you what?’ ‘Show me how much you love me,’ I say quietly, shy at being the one to initiate this, but my boldness is rewarded at seeing the way his eyes darken, lips parted in surprise. ‘Fuck. Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod with a coy smile. ‘Okay. Come on then,’ he says softly, holding my hand and leading me to the bedroom, my heart beating harder with each step.

‘I thought you’d pick me up and slam me against the wall,’ I joke, and he chuckles gently. ‘I don’t wanna fuck you like the best man and the maid of honour having a quickie in a broom cupboard,’ he says, making me giggle as we enter the bedroom. ‘How do you wanna fuck me then?’ I ask, and he grins, pulling me into his arms. ‘I don’t wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you, like the luckiest man in the world making love to his beautiful fiancée,’ he murmurs before pressing his lips to mine, happiness settling in my heart.

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Unfaithful | Final Chapter

Series Summary: After dreaming of your perfect wedding since you were a little girl the big day is almost here. But after meeting the priest you start to question your relationship.

Pairing: Hot Priest x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2718

Warnings: all the angst with a side order of fluff, FINAL CHAPTER

A/N: this is it, the series finale. I really hope you guys enjoyed the series and that this ending does it justice. Thank you for the lovely comments on previous chapters, I love you guys! Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Five | Masterlist

- - - - -

“We need to talk”

“I think you said enough yesterday” I say dismissively as I stand up.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

“But you did!” 

“I know this is no excuse but I was really drunk”

“You're right, that isn’t an excuse. What you said to me really hurt”

“I know and I am so so sorry. I think I thought that if I could make you hate me then it would be easier for me to not love you.”

I pause, trying to make sense of what he’s just said. 

“That’s stupid”

“I realise that now, but at the time my alcohol infused brain thought it was genius.” He says and I can't help but be slightly amused “Look Y/N, I need you to know I didn’t mean any of what I said yesterday. And I really hope you don't hate me, though I don't blame you if you do”

“I don’t hate you” I take his hands in mine and look deep in his eyes “I could never hate you, you mean too much to me now. I couldn’t have got through the past few weeks without you, so you're not getting rid of me that easy”

I give him a gentle but sincere smile and he lets out a sigh of relief. 

“It didn’t work anyway” he says and I respond with a confused look “My genius plan failed… I still love you” 

Before I can say anything else Eva appears at the door.

“There you are!” She calls and I quickly release the priest’s hands as I turn to look at her. She looks from me, to the priest and back to me “everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. This is the priest who’s doing the wedding.” 

“Oh uh, actually… I’m not anymore” he says, suddenly awkward again. 

“Can you give us a minute?” I say to Eva and she nods before disappearing back inside the house. I turn my attention back to the worried looking priest “What do you mean?” 

“I can’t be there today” 

“Are you serious? We need you!” 

“I know it’s unprofessional to pull out this late but so is kissing the bride behind the groom’s back, so…” he lets out a small nervous chuckle “I’ve arranged cover already. Father Crilly. He’s a good priest, he’ll make sure it all runs smooth”

“You're a good priest! You can make sure it runs smooth!”

“I can’t” he says, looking down at his feet

“Of course you can”

“No I can’t!” He snaps, looking back up at me. I notice tears starting to form in his eyes. “I can’t because I want it to go wrong. I want there to be a reason for this wedding not to happen, for you not to marry him… instead of me” 

My breath catches in my throat as I look at him, not knowing how to respond.

“Father…” I almost whisper “I- I don't know what to say”

“You don't have to say anything”

“You know how much mean to me-”

“Please don’t” he interrupts but I carry on 

“-but I can’t leave Daniel. I’m sorry”

“I can’t pretend to understand why you would marry a man who treats you the way he has, but if you love him even half as much as I love you… then I respect your decision. I’m not going to get in your way.” 

He turns to leave but I grab his arm gently stopping him. 

“Are you gonna be alright?” I ask and he gives me a small nod

“It’ll pass” 

I watch as he walks out my driveway and disappears down the road, taking deep steadying breaths before putting a smile on my face and heading inside to get ready. 

After all, today is to be the happiest day of my life. Right? 

— — — — 

So far the rest of the day has run smooth. I explained to Eva and the rest of the bridesmaids that the priest had to pull out last minute, making up some excuse about a family emergency, but that he’d arranged cover so there was nothing to stress about. Eva, as my substitute maid of honour, took on the job of alerting Daniel to the last minute change so there would be no confusion when he turned up at the church and found Father Crilly waiting for him. 

A few hours later I descended the stairs in my beautiful white dress to the sound of the girls showering me with compliments and my aunt Lynda sniffling into a hankie. 

“You look like a princess” she says, pulling me into a slightly too tight hug. 

It wasn’t long till the cars arrived and we were on our way. The bridesmaids pilled into one while me and Aunt Lynda got into the other. Lynda rambled on about something but I couldn't really hear her. Too busy staring silently out of the window. The closer we get to the church, the more I can feel the panic rising in my chest. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She asks as she squeezes my hand gently, pulling my mind back into the car.

“Yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply as convincingly as possible. 

“It’s okay to be nervous. Hell, I was more nervous the second time than I was for my first”

“I didn’t know you were married before uncle Steve?” 

“Yeah! It was long before you were born. We were school sweethearts. Like you and Daniel, only less in love. We thought we were in love but looking back now I realise we were too young to really know what that meant. Your dad tried to warn me. Said Troy and I were better off as friends, but we didn’t listen. He was great for relationship advice was your dad, bit of a self proclaimed love expert.” She pauses, going watery eyed again “I’m sorry he’s not here”

“Me too” 

“I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be watching over you today. Your mother too. They’d both be so proud” she squeezes my hand again and smiles tearfully. 

“Don't make me cry. If I ruin my makeup Eva will kill me” I laugh, wiping under my eyes.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She says, handing me a tissue “no more crying, this is a happy day!”

— — — — 

By the time we arrived at the church the bridesmaids were waiting outside with the photographer and the new priest. The photographer camera flashed at me as Lynda helped me out of the car and lead me to the church. Looking up at those wooden doors, I was glad I had Lynda to cling onto. My legs felt like jelly. 

Father Crilly introduced himself to me before heading inside the church. The bridesmaids, Lynda and I waited outside until we heard the music start, signalling the beginning of the ceremony. The bridesmaids began their walk up the aisle and before long the music changed again to the bridal chorus.

“Here we go” 

We walk into the church, stopping just inside the doors. I glance up to the front of the church to see Daniel looking back at me, a smile spread across his face. A smile I can’t make myself return. Instead I keep my eyes down, focusing on the floor as we walk up aisle. I can feel every set of eyes on me, but I keep mine fixed on my feet that carry me closer and closer to my future. 

We reach the top and Lynda gives me a kiss on the cheek before going to join the bridesmaids on the front row. Daniel takes my hand in his, whispering “you look amazing” into my ear as Father Crilly begins the ceremony. 

His opening speech goes by in a blur. I try to listen to every word he’s saying, to keep myself planted in the real world but my mind is spinning and my heart is pounding. I can’t stop thinking about what Lynda said in the car. What if Daniel and I aren’t in love? We just think we are because we’ve been together so long. We’re just used to being with each other. 

I also can’t get the priest out of my head. Worrying about him. Wondering what he’s doing now, whether he’s thinking about me. I replay our last conversation in my head. 

‘I still love you’ 

‘I want there to be a reason for this wedding not to happen, for you not to marry him… instead of me’ 

I try to push his words from my mind, focusing instead on his final ones. 

‘It’ll pass’

But what if it doesn’t. 

“If any person present knows of any lawful reason why this marriage can’t take place they should speak now or forever hold their peace” Father Crilly pauses. 

A tense silence fills the room. 

I look out across the crowd of friends and family sitting silently in their seats, a small part of me hoping the priest will burst through the doors dramatically declaring his love for me as he sweeps me away to live happily ever after. 

I shake the fantasy from my mind and turn my attention back to the man I’m actually about to marry. Daniel is also looking out at the church crowd. He looks nervous. I give his hand a gentle squeeze and he looks at me.

“Are you okay?” I whisper and he nods, but I can tell he’s not. As he looks away from me again my mind starts to spiral, panic rising in my chest. I can’t do this. 

‘It’ll pass’

 I think I’m making a mistake. 

‘It’ll pass’

These feelings are too intense to ignore.

‘It’ll pass’

These feelings of love. Not for Daniel. For the priest. I don't want them to pass. 

“I object” I say quietly, staring down at my hand enclosed within Daniel’s. I can feel his gaze on my face as a wave of gasps and shocked murmuring works its way through the church. 

“What?” He says, a nervous laugh escapes his lips but the smile fades as my sad eyes lock onto his.

“I object” 

“To- to your own wedding…?” Father Crilly asks, voice full of confusion.

“I can’t do it. I can’t start a marriage with a lie.”

“Y/N? What are you talking about?” Daniel asks, gripping my hands tightly in his own, afraid to let go. 

“When you marry someone, there shouldn’t be any secrets. You have to be able to confess anything, trust them with everything… I need to be honest with you.” I pause, building up the courage to say what I need to say next. “Daniel I-”

“I cheated on you” he blurts out, earning another gasp from the crowd

“…what?” 

“I’ve been having an affair…” Daniel repeats “Tiff and I… we, uh-”

“Tiffany? My best friend Tiffany?” I ask and he nods “How long?”

“Maybe we should continue this somewhere else” Father Crilly tries to move us but I ignore him.

“How long Daniel? How long have you been sleeping with my best friend behind my back?”

“A few months I think”

“You think? What, you don't even remember?” I bring my hands up to my head, rubbing circles on my temples as I turn my back on Daniel and take deep breaths. 

“Y/N, please listen to me. I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you-” he puts his hands on my shoulders but I shrug him off.

“You say that a lot for someone who has repeatedly hurt me. Emotionally…” I turn back to face him “physically. And every time I make excuses for you, brush off the insults, hide the bruises because I thought I was in love with you. But I’m not. I don't love you. I haven’t loved you for a long time. I was just too scared to leave you. But I'm not scared anymore”

“I really think we should talk this through somewhere private” Father Crilly tries again but I shake my head. 

“I’m done.” I take Daniel’s hand and look him straight in the eye “Thank you for finally setting me free” 

I remove my engagement ring and place it in his hand before turning and walking back down the aisle to exit the church. Daniel runs after me, stopping me once we’re outside. 

“Y/N! Please just let me explain-”

“Did you ever stop to think how I would feel?” I spin around, taking him by surprise “When you were with her, did you consider me at all?” I pause, giving him the chance to respond but he doesn’t “See that’s the difference between you and me. All I ever do, all I’ve ever done, is think about you and how you’d react. A few days ago I kissed someone-”

“What?! Who?!” He yells, anger creeping onto his face

“Don't you dare get angry with me after what you’ve done!” I respond and he takes a deep breath “I could’ve done more. I had the opportunity to sleep with him. But I didn’t. Because I kept thinking about you, about how you would feel. And what you would do to me if you ever found out”

“I love you”

“No you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t have slept with my best friend. You don't love me, and that’s fine. I don't love you either, cause if I truly did then I wouldn’t have kissed the priest. I think we both just convinced ourselves we were in love because everyone else thought we were this fairytale love story. But maybe we were better off as friends.”

“Maybe” he says quietly, deep in thought “I’m really sorry, about everything. I treated you…terribly” 

Hearing a sincere, genuine apology from him, I finally feel at peace with it all. 

“It doesn’t matter now” I say, giving him a small smile “do you love Tiffany?”

He thinks for a moment before gently nodding his head. 

“I think so, yeah”

“You should tell her” I say, gesturing behind him as Tiffany comes running towards us. 

“Eva texted me.” She says breathlessly “Y/N, I am so sorry I should have-” 

I cut her off by pulling her into a hug.

“It’s okay” I say, releasing her and she looks at me in shock as I hand her my bridal bouquet “I hope you two are happy together. Really I mean that” 

I turn and walk away. 

“Where are you going?” Tiff calls after me.

“To get my happy ending” 

— — — — 

“Y/N?!” 

The priest looks at me confused as he answers his front door. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“You lied to me” I say deadpan “you said Father Crilly would make sure it all ran smooth. But it didn’t. Something went very very wrong during the ceremony.”

“What happened?” He looks genuinely concerned

“Well a few things. The bride objected, and then the groom confessed to cheating with the former maid of honour. Then the bride confessed to kissing the former priest and they both confessed to not loving each other.”

He stands looking at me for a few moments, taking it all in. 

“Wow” he finally says “so not smooth then?”

“No” I burst out laughing and the priest joins in before turning serious again. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, searching my face.

“Yeah” I say after a moment, “more than okay, I’m great. I feel like a massive weight has been lifted off my shoulders”

“That’s good”

There’s a comfortable silence before I speak again. 

“You know, during the ceremony I kept hearing you in my head. Saying ‘It’ll pass’. And I realised something”

“What?”

“I don't ever want this feeling to pass. This feeling I get when I think of you, when I’m with you.” I pause to take a breath “I love you” 

“I love you too Y/N”

I smile. 

“So what happens now?”

He takes a step toward me, closing the gap as he brings his hands up to my face and crashes his lips to mine.

— — — — 

I started this story by saying every girl dreams of her perfect wedding day. 

Well mine ended up being far from perfect. 

But as I lay here wrapped in the priest’s arms, for the first time in a long time I’m happy. I’m free. 

And I’m in love. 

[eureka-its-zico]

Irrevocably Yours

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has ome of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So. This request was sent to me a long ass time ago. I mean a LONG time ago, and I spent so much time working on it...it became too long. So I broke it up in half. Just to see if anyone actually becomes interested in how this ends. Just to see if anyone still reads anything I write. So if you end up enjoying this, please let me know and I’ll post the last of this. I have so many things buried inside my google docs that need to be set free from hibernation. 

Also, I’m sorry if this isn’t any good. I’ve rewritten this a thousand times trying to fix it, and I’ve done all I can for now. I hope someone out there enjoyed this craziness. And to the original person who asked for this, if you ever see this, I’m sorry it took so long. P.s. I also took creative liberties and changed it up a little. Much love, Jenn

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 13,756 (yeah I know, it was longer before I halved it. Sorry!)

Genre: fluffy/Smutty(later)/First Love drama sorts mess

A part of you would always remember the first day you’d met Jeon Jungkook. His presence standing in the doorway to the classroom held every single one of your classmate's attention along with yours. Jungkook silently demanded to be noticed, even though in a way he wanted no one to notice him at all. The classroom felt louder than usual, or maybe that was just how you recalled it. Maybe it's what caused the ringing in your ears when the room was swallowed up in silence. The sound of his cane hitting the stained linoleum; ticking like a time bomb with every step. 

At first you couldn't see why he necessarily needed it. Jungkook was a master of hiding things. Even pain. It wasn’t until he’d reached the teachers desk, his hip moving to rest against it to ease the extra strain off his good leg, that the stories of his accident became true.  Not one of you were willing to look too long at the challenge in his face. Defiance turning his soft features bitter as he glanced out across the room. Jungkook wanted to appear strong; to dare anyone to mutter even a word that he wasn’t. That he wasn’t the same person he was before the accident. 

He must have been able to fool your home room teacher into forgetting. His eagerness to introduce Jungkook only caused him to accidentally come too close to his legs in passing. The teachers’ waist moved and harmlessly bump against Jungkook’s bad leg. A small movement that was enough to change Jungkook’s entire demeanor for just a second. 

The whole room collectively took a breath; waiting for him to scream out in pain. To turn savage and yell or curse at the stupidity of the teacher. Jungkook did none of it. He continued to look out into the room with his chin held high. 

You could see, however, through the crinkle by his eyes and how heavily he now leaned on his cane that it’s caused him a great deal of pain. A brief moment in showing what he tried to hide and if you weren’t staring so hard at him, you were sure you would’ve missed it.

An infamous legend among other schools as his face showed up on Sports articles that featured proud features of parents beaming excitedly at cameras. Taekwondo and track metal’s around his neck by the dozens. Grades to match the intensity of his athletic drive with a rumor that if he tried something for the first time, Jungkook would still be phenomenal at whatever it was. 

Even without ever actually meeting him - everyone in that classroom knew who he was. Jeon Jungkook was a hard man not to hear about. 

In the beginning of the year there’d been a different headline for him, however. He’d been the passenger in a friend's car that was struck by a drunk driver. The ferocity of the impact leaving the car looking like a bow. Jungkook lost a friend that night, and part of the mobility in his left leg. The driver himself died instantly and you weren't sure if that was justice enough for the two boys who’d lost so much in a matter of three seconds. 

And with so much, yet so little known about him you found yourself unable to join the others in measuring up the boy in front of you. 

Jungkook was taller than you thought he would be, or maybe you’d silently been hoping the universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give someone talent and every single attractive feature known to man. He’d been played up like he was a god among the rest of you feeble mortals. You figure’d girls were overacting, I mean it happens. Imagining after listening to all their swooning, you’d somehow shockingly find out he was nothing more than your average - ordinary - boy. 

Jungkook was anything but ordinary. 

His lean frame still retained years of training that wasn't so easily hidden, even under the layers of the school uniform. You could see the care he still placed on his outward appearance. The rising star who was still handsome, even underneath all his brooding. His school uniform strained against tight muscles in his arms and, worse, was his legs. Your cheeks heating into an embarrassed blush as his eyes landed on what seemed like your desk. It was silly to think he’d caught you gawking. Everyone was gawking at him, but even a millisecond of his gaze made your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the idea of being caught. 

There was gossip of him not wanting to go back to his old school; his old life. You didn't really blame him. Why be stuck in a place where there were millions of memories of a time you had with a close friend? Of having the ability to walk down the halls without everyone looking at you like you were damaged goods. 

“Everyone pay attention!” Mr. Choi shouted. 

It all seemed unnecessary. Your attention was already on him whether he wanted it or not. 

“I’d like to welcome our transfer student, Jeon Jungkook. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

“I don't need you to defend me,” he snapped. 

He started moving his way down the aisle towards the only empty seat in the room: the one next to you. 

You quickly turned away from him and started cleaning up your space. Jungkook got to the desk faster than you thought and dropped his backpack down on top of the desk. His long body slumped down into the seat, placing his cane next to the window seal. 

“We’re going to continue with our previous lecture from yesterday. You can share with Y/N until you get your own books.”

You flipped to chapter eighteen with your many notes scattered inside. Your eyes giving him a sidelong glance before sliding the book neatly between the desks. Jungkook didn't bother to look at the pages: his gaze was locked elsewhere. Somewhere outside the window with the freedom far beyond the gates of the school. 

The enter class you’d spun a hundred different sentences in your mind. Each one playing out in your head as pure idiotic or unnecessary. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt wrong letting him sit there like no one cares. To be a part of the prying gazes of the class; to know his name and him not knowing yours in return. You weren't sure why you gave a shit so much, anyways, but you did. 

At the sound of the bell he was the first one to hop back onto his feet. His hand instinctively taking hold of the cane to keep him propped up as he moved to situate his backpack over his shoulders. You’d followed close behind him and gathered up your things. 

You didn't see him again until fifth period. His brooding presence in the back of the class hung like a dark cloud you couldn't shake. You knew you weren't necessarily the most cheerful person in the room, but even Jungkook’s sour puss attitude was making you want to throw glitter at him. 

He didn't acknowledge you when you came to your usual seat at the window, and it didn't bother you. No one usually acknowledged you anyways. What did bother you was that he was sitting in your window seat. Statistics was by far your least favorite subject this year, and the one thing that kept you sane was that window seat.

“That's my spot.”

Your voice didn't hold any hint of malice. It was just definitive: you wanted your seat. Jungkook didn't look at you straight away. His eyes still daydreaming through the window and the world beyond. When he did finally look at you, you were sure the annoyance in his face was meant to send you packing. Too bad for him you’d seen worse. 

“Is that look supposed to scare me? It doesn't change the fact you're in my spot.”

“I don't see your name on it.”

Your laughter turned to a scoff; cut short by your disbelief. 

“What are we in middle school? If you want to get technical, it was assigned by the teacher aka my name is theoretically on that seat. So -” 

You acted like he was a pet you could shoo off your bed. The hand motion earning you his brow to raise in return. 

“You’d really make a cripple get up?”

“Is that what we’re calling you? A cripple? Because it looks to me like you’re still capable of doing things, oh say, a paraplegic can't.”

The anger rolled through him suddenly like storm clouds. All the possibilities of playful mischief disappeared as he regarded you with so much hate, it was as if he’d struck you. 

“Oh, really? I didn't realize that they were giving away M.D titles in high schools now.”

Your mouth opened to - to what? Apologize? The sensitive part of you told you that you should. His accident hadn't been a full year yet, and here you were badgering him. Yet, you knew if you continuously babied him like everyone else it was only going to do more harm than good. Your next choice of words were cut short when your teacher walked in and asked why you were still standing. 

“He’s in my spot.”

God, now who sounded like they were in middle school? Your teacher seemed to draw a blank. His gaze moving from you to Jungkook then back to you. 

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You did so with a huff. Your arms pulling your backpack you’d sat down on the desk closer to you like a pillow. Just so you could rest your chin on top of it and tried to ignore the smirk that was now on Jungkook’s face. 

After you’d gone to your next class you couldn't stop thinking about your exchange. It  turned your mood sour the rest of the day, and you couldn't understand why. A part of you wondering if it was because of your choice of words or the defeat that shown all too bright in his doe eyes. 

The end of the day couldn't have come fast enough. You just wanted to get home and out of your uniform and maybe get a chance to go take some photos before your parents got home. You were too preoccupied with thoughts of where you wanted to go, and what coffee shop you wanted to stop at, when you collided into the back of someone else. A loud curse followed suit of the sound of a cane dropping on pavement making your eyes shut tight and your throat constrict around a groan. 

“Jesus, can't you watch where you’re goi- oh, it's you. Enjoy attacking cripples, do we?”

You opened your eyes to see a less than amused smile on his face. He acted more like a judge at your hearing and whatever sentencing he was giving out, it wasn’t in your favor. 

“I’m sorry I wasn't paying attention.”

You moved to pick up his cane for him when his hand angrily swatted yours away making you jump back a step. 

“I don't need your charity. I can do it myself!”

“No one said you couldn’t! I was only trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, go and be nice somewhere else.”

He situated his weight on his good leg and bent at the knee low enough for his hand to reach out and grab his second form of support. The movement so graceful that it left you stunned, but not as much as his words did. 

“You know, just because something bad happened to you, it doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. You aren't the only person to lose someone or something important. Get over yourself.”

With your hands latched underneath the straps of your backpack you stomped around him. Not caring that you left him standing stone still. His mouth slightly agape as he watched you take your exit. 

During your walk home, somehow, Jungkook plagued your thoughts. Your mind unable to comprehend why you were still thinking about him. It was the first time you’d met, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. If you were being honest with yourself you knew from replaying the last thing you said to him.The look on his face saying plainly that you were an asshole.

Everyone’s pain mattered. Grief and loss wasn’t measured by anyone else’s pain but the person who experienced it, and to diminish it in any way was unfair. Regret was building inside your chest and it was all you could do to keep your feet from sprinting back in his direction. 

When you got home you went directly to your room, throwing your bag on the bed, and sulked to your desk. You had more pressing matters to attend to than a boys’ possible hurt feelings. No matter how many times you tried, however, you weren’t able to write out theories on government history or explain anatomical questions.

The only thing your brain appeared to focus on was how to apologize. 

You thought about Jungkook while you showered and brushed your teeth. You thought of him when you laid in bed and struggled to find a way to sleep. Your mind playing out the million different possibilities of how your apology would be taken from him. You didn't necessarily understand what it felt like to have your dreams stolen from you. To be forced to cope with a new life you hadn’t asked for and the emptiness of losing someone you loved all in one go. 

If the tables were turned and it was you, wouldn’t you feel equally as bitter? 

The following morning in between toaster cooked waffles and fixing your uniform in the mirror, you’d resigned to apologizing to him. No matter how much thinking of it made your teeth grind and a growl rise in your chest at the thought. You imagined him sneering and replying with smart remarks and it caused your mind to waver, but you were better than the pettiness swelling in your chest. You were okay with knowing his prickled exterior came from something you couldn't ever understand. 

You made sure all the time you had while you walked to school was used up by mumbling the speech you’d made up the night before. At crosswalks practicing the best stance that didn't appear threatening, was friendly, but wouldn't be misconstrued as flirting. 

That was by far the last thing you wanted to happen in his eyes. Sure, Jungkook was undeniably attractive...as much as you would've loved to laugh sarcastically in his perfectly sculpted face that his obviously very masculine features did nothing to make you weak in the knees. That you hadn’t noticed when his elbows, still clad in his jacket, moved to rest on the desk it’d caused his biceps and shoulders to equally fight for whatever was left of the fabric. Or that small scar on his cheek caught your attention when he became annoyed; his tongue poking out at the side of his jaw. 

No, you hadn't been paying an embarrassing amount of attention to him at all (or at the ridiculous outline of his thigh muscles in his school uniform)  with every step he took. 

So, since you hadn't personally taken notice of any of physically appealing traits, why would you flirt? You were well aware of the vast difference of not only your social scale, but also of your class ranking, and looks overall. You were lightyears away from ever being able to consider being more than a female acquaintance he happened to get stuck next to at school. He wasn't the first boy who was out of your league, and Jungkook wouldn't be the last. Why it bothered you so much was a child's thought you refused to entertain. 

When you finally got to school you hurried up the steps and briskly made your way down the hall. Not stopping even after Jenny cursed after you for nudging her as you went by. As soon as you swung open the door for homeroom, your eyes landed on Jungkook’s position. His cane leaning against the desk, hands tucked inside the pockets of his uniform slacks as he leaned back against the chair. 

His gaze was focused somewhere outside the window, completely blank and motionless, and you wondered if he could've been having a thought at all. He was close to being marked as unreal in your book when he blinked and turned his gaze towards you.

You hadn't realized you’d been staring until that moment. Your gaze dropping to the worn linoleum as you briskly made your way down to your desk. A mumbled, “Good morning,” falling like a bad habit from your lips while you came around the side to slid into the desk chair. Nervous hands clutching tightly to your bag as you stared straight ahead, unwilling to glance in his direction. 

Somewhere between cursing your awkwardness and staring out the window like an escape hatch your teacher started the lecture. None of it to which you were paying attention too, which was probably why you heard him call your name. You jerked in your seat as he yelled it a second time. Your eyes no doubt wide from giggles that sounded around the room. 

“Y/N, since you're listening, you can go ahead and answer number forty-seven in the workbook.”

Panic sent your eyes wide as you stared back at his expectant face: waiting for you to fail. You hadn't even taken your book out since you’d sat down, finally moving to do so, when you felt a light tap against your bag. It was enough to jerk your gaze away from the teacher and down to a completed book of all the problems done by Jungkook. 

He cleared his throat and tucked his hands back inside the pockets of his trousers easily not understanding the severity of how his actions had left you wide-eyed in surprise. You were still taking too long, causing your teacher to prompt you with a grunt and Jungkook to casually reach out and tap the answer again. Your eyes trailing over the written answer before standing up and clearing your throat. The answer rolling off your tongue as easy as breathing; as if you didn't just steal it from a notebook. 

You made a silent prayer the teacher didn't notice the sweat threatening to break at your temple. The nervous ticking of your feet tilting from spot to spot. A rush of relief escaping your lips when his response to your answer was to continue class. 

You took your seat next to Jungkook; unable to acknowledge him just yet for saving you from whatever punishment your teacher would've no doubt thought of. The realization that Jungkook himself was the reason for your lack of concentration making your cheeks flush an embarrassing pink making your arms wrap protectively around your backpack. 

You’d never even brought out your textbook. Never dropped your bag from your desk and no doubt Mr. Choi knew you were given the answer. You buried your mouth against the coarse nylon in a weak attempt to stifle your embarrassment. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes caught the soft tilt of his brow as it rose at the muffled words. You could make out his left shoulder leaning him down towards your huddled position, making your hands involuntarily tighten into your backpack. 

“What was that?”

The husky whisper of his words weren't anything you’d heard before, and they resonated up your spine to leave you staring starry-eyed.

“Th-thank you. For giving me the answer.”

He didn't respond. His gaze fixed solely on your face until you forcibly struggled to keep from fidgeting under its weight. After what felt like a small eternity, Jungkook nodded his head and faced forward. The sudden ghost of the death of your conversation causing you to blink at his profile. 

The rest of the class was spent with your focus lacking on taking notes. How could you focus with his presence commanding your attention? A small army of ants creeping along your nerves demanding to acknowledge him. It was so strong, when the bell rang you jumped up from your seat to try and escape into the freedom of the school’s hallway, only to end up with your knee connecting straight into the hardwood of the desk. Jungkook’s snort at your misfortune was enough to remind you how much of an arrogant pain in the ass he could be. 

“Wow - good job doofus.”

Your head snapped back in his direction; tongue rolling in your cheek as he hopped up from his seat. A hand snaking out to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder as the other reached for his cane. You held your head high despite how awful your knee was stinging, and stood up adjusting your bag. 

“Seriously? That's all you've got? Doofus? Next time let’s try harder.”

Jungkook didn't seemed miffed by your retort, actually seeming more amused than anything, and for some reason it only bugged you more. Did you really want to get into another argument like you were in primary school with him? You discarded the thought as you tightened the strings on your backpack and decided to take the mature route and leave him behind. 

The hallways mass of bodies rushing to get to their next period giving you comfort; until you remembered you shared the same economics class. Today was also a field trip to a farm to learn the process of making soy products. It would take up the last few classes of the day. You’d been excited to spend the day out of class and enjoy the rustic scenery out of town. Your only hope was that he hadn't been able to get his parental slip signed; he’d just started the day before. How could he?

When the teacher walked in and asked Jungkook for his permission slip you wanted to howl. Why was the universe so cruel? But why did you care so much? 

It was a question you didn't bother to think about; you just grumbled the whole way to the bus. Your teacher standing at its entrance to put a check by your names every time one of your classmates passed him by like lined up cattle. You were the last checkmark: the last person to find an available seat. You rounded the final step and your stomach sank down into your shoes. The universe seeming to play a sick joke of musical chairs; your only options being Jungkook or Amber, the girl who actively struggled to make sure your life was a living hell. 

You’d rather be eaten by dogs than even attempt to sit with her. Jungkook it was, then.

Your hand clasped tighter around the strap of your bag as you moved it farther up your shoulder. A large sigh accommodating your steps as you side-stepped down the aisle ending with you in front of his seat. His cane taking up what was left of it. 

Jungkook didn't seem to register your presence or he just decided to pretend you weren't there. Either way you felt your annoyance grow as you cleared your throat to grab his attention. His chin barely leaving the perch of his fist as his head turned; gaze intimidating in a way that left your fingers pinching the fabric of yours clothes just to make sure they were still there and he hadn't stared straight through them. 

“Can I help you?”

“I need a seat.”

He looked back and no doubt noticed the open spot next to Amber. Jungkook’s giving the slightest nod as he retorted, “There’s one right back there.”

“Come on, Jungkook. What do you want?”

“You're bribing me now?” 

His smile was so bright, borderline adorable, and you hated how it threatened to make you retaliate with your own. 

“Stop being a brat and just tell me,” you snapped instead. 

Jungkook shot a quick glance back at Amber’s giggling figure. You were sure most people thought she sounded like wind chimes or something else cute and feminine, but to you it just sounded like a cat dying. When he looked back at you, Jungkook checked you out one last time. His eyes stopping at the lone earbud that sat against your chest. For a moment, you thought he was actually staring at your breasts making your cheeks burn and your gaze to look anywhere else but at his smug face. 

“Let me listen to your iPod there and back on this trip, and I'll let you sit with me.”

“What am I supposed to do?”  

Jungkook did a lavish hand sweep at the window. The motion reminding you of the showgirls on The Price is Right, making you believe maybe he’d somehow watched it, and one too many times. 

“You get to use your imagination while you look out the window.”

“No way. Joint custody.”

“Fine. Joint custody, but I get to pick the music the whole way. If you have shitty taste the deal's off.”

He stuck out his hand for you to shake and there was a moment, a minor second, that it felt like you were making a deal with the devil. However, the sound of Amber’s laughter practically had your hand bolting into Jungkook’s. You shook it harder than was necessary before dropping it and shooing him to move. 

Jungkook removed his bag and cane from the seat. Your legs giving out moments later so you could plop down in it, only to be greeted by his outstretched hand. The smile that spread across his lips shining brighter than the mischief in his eyes. 

“As per our agreement: the iPod.”

He wiggles his fingers and you wanted to smack him. Your own squeezing tighter against the metal until, reluctantly, you chose your fate by placing it into his hand. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind your current look of displeasure while you watched him begin to scroll through your assorted music collection. 

At least the seat was warm. 

The first few seconds were somehow more awkward than you thought possible. Eyes locked in a fifty-yard stare so intense a soldier would’ve been envious. The only movement you caught of him was from your peripherals. Jungkook’s thumbs picking up speed from the leisurely way he scanned through the artists you’d offered. And no you did not, whatsoever, happen to notice the way his bottom lip would dart inside his mouth just to be held gently between his teeth. All the while his eyes focused on the task in front of him.

Nope. You weren’t paying attention to him. Not even a little bit. So how he was able to make you jump twelve inches out of your skin, while you were most definitely not embarrassing yourself by gawking over a beautiful man, was beyond you.

“Ya!” Jungkook clicked his tongue in distaste. His hand wiggling the ipod in your direction, as if it had caused some great offense. “What is this?”

Your neck tiled as you regarded him like he’d grown two heads. You were also positive if your eyebrows knitted together any harder you’d end up with a unibrow. 

“Ugh, a mystical device that plays music.”

The look on Jungkook’s face faltered from frustration to annoyance. It was so sudden it ended up sending a bark of laughter in his direction. And just like that, the annoyed look was back again. 

“I mean, what the hell do you have on this thing. Who is The Dead Weather? City and Colour? Joji?”

“They are artists I enjoy.”

“They’re shit.”

You rushed to try and snatch it back from him. Jungkook’s reflexes proving to be faster than your growing urge to smack him.

“Excuse me, little miss,” he began. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He used his index finger to push gently against your forehead, but with the current level of irritation, he still proved faster than you. Your failed attempt to swat his hand away meeting only empty air. Earning you a smirk of smug satisfaction. 

“I’m trying to get my things back.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

You tried one last time to take him by surprise. Your right hand shot out too hard to grab at the object clasped in his large hands. The momentum carried you forward to land shoulder first against his chest. Leg nudging against his with enough force that it caused his cane to move an inch. It took everything you had to keep your head down to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“And now you’re assaulting me.”

If your eyes were capable of rolling back any father you might've seen brain cells.

“I was only trying to get my property back. Since the only thing that’s coming out of you is complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” he snapped. “You’re acting like an Indian giver.”

“Is that all you know how to do: complain?” You continued, completely ignoring him. A slight smirk now etching your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flicking down to notice your amusement at his expense. “I believe they call it, ‘trying something new.’” 

His eyes narrowed on you and for a split second your pulse began to race. Sure, the agitation on his face at your teasing was obvious, but you could’ve sworn...maybe...just maybe he was smirking. Could you have possibly been able to make him smile? 

“I should make you go sit with Amber.”

The smugness in his voice and the cocky smile that joined it instantly made whatever fun you were having come to a complete halt. Jungkook was so pleased with himself he had the audacity to shimmy his shoulders like he’d already won. The rolls had reversed. It was your eyes turn to throw daggers in his direction. 

“Now who's the Indian giver.”

Even though he played up on what he felt like was a win, you could tell he was not as amused. His non-injured leg bounced to an incredible rhythm that he could only hear. Probably a furious count to a hundred to keep himself from saying anything else to continue your usual thrilling conversations. So when he handed over one earbud, and the iPod, but placed the other into his ear, it was fair to say it left you baffled. 

You were waiting so long for him to give an explanation, but all he did was continue to stare at you. It was starting to make your pulse race again. Why did he constantly have to feel so intense? Everything about him. Not even his current state made him seem any less notable. It just didn’t seem fair. 

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat did you realize you’d been staring. For god knows how damn long. 

“You gonna play something or not?” he asked. 

His hand motioned towards the music while his fingers adjusted the earbud he’d kept. 

“I’m so confused.”

“You look it,” he retorted, causing your earlier thoughts to remember, although handsome, he was an incredible pain in the ass. 

“Ten seconds ago you complained about my music. Now you want me to play it for you.”

Jungkook turned his gaze away, his body relaxing back against the hard foam of the seat. His eyes still cast outside the window as if he was trying to find some way to escape. 

“Either I can spend the next couple hours listening to you talk, or “try” out some new music. If I have a choice, I’ll pick the music please and thank you.”

Oh, how you wish you could’ve shoved him out that tiny window. But as much as you hated to admit it, Jungkook was right. Music was the only reasonable escape from possibly having either of you commit murder. 

It was your turn to try and get comfortable. This time your thumb scanning down the list of artists until your eyes caught sight of one he’d mentioned. Without giving him warning you pressed play. The haunting melody of Joji’s “Dancing in the Dark,” flooded the earbuds. His voice melancholic as he began to sing a sad tale of not wanting to be the hidden second option. 

The song choice was enough to finally get Jungkook to look back at you. Somehow already having enough with the song choice before it’d barely even reached the chorus. 

“Just listen.”

It was the only advice you could give him, and hopefully the reassurance you’d tried to ease into your tone was enough. Whether it was or not, by the time the chorus began he seemingly relaxed again into the seat. His arms moving to cross lazily against his chest. He seemed to actually be taking in the song while he watched out the window. The passing of the steel and concrete that was Seoul into the rural areas of green and forest. 

The music itself was calming. It was enough to let yourself fully relax back against it and close your eyes. With your eyes closed you could easily fade out the sounds of the sporadic conversations on the bus. Even though you only had one ear bud, all you needed was to concentrate on the music to drown out the world. 

It took a few seconds for you to be pulled into a Joji’s song about terrible longing and being left behind by a lover. I mean, you didn’t really know too much about the latter, but hey, a girl could daydream. His voice was seconds away from heading into the second verse of the chorus, when you heard the sound of the melody being lightly sung beside you. 

The voice was beautiful. The most startling part, not the fact of its softness, or the way it swelled in perfect harmony with the song, was that it came from Jungkook. Your eyes flung open with your head snapping to gaze at his serene expression. He continued to face the window, daylight playing along the profile of his face, and his gentle voice singing perfectly in tune. 

It wasn’t loud enough that anyone else could’ve heard it over the dozens of bursting conversations being spoken throughout the bus. That the only conclusion you could come up with to why he would be singing at all. He thought no one would be able to pay attention. You probably would’ve stayed gawking at him if his eyes fluttering open didn’t send you crashing back against the seat and clutching your eyes shut. You needed to pretend you hadn’t noticed. Or else he would stop. He would hide this part of himself that showed he was more than what he tried to portray. 

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was glancing in your direction. To see his eyes gaze over you with suspicion before settling back and listening to the next track. Khalid’s intro of “Talk,” beginning to play into your earbud. 

You spent the rest of the trip staying beside him, close as you could get without looking creepy, just to hear him gently sing. He breathed a gentle version of each one he knew, or came to like, and made it his own. Even being a few times were his nerves got the better of him. His voice rising ever slightly when he drew too deep into the song. He would quiet after each outburst, but to your pleasure Jungkook would start back up moments later. 

After all the bickering, you could definitely say the trade was worth it. You were so taken with listening to him that when the bus came to a stop, you didn’t realize it until your earbud was yanked from your ears. Your eyes heavy from sleep fluttered open and closed a few times before they focused on Jungkook’s face. 

“Ya, didn’t you hear them call us off the bus?”

Your response came in the form of slow blinks and a mouth half-hung open. You wished more for a nap than going out to explore a farm, but your limbs were screaming to be stretched. You went to answer him when, instead, Jungkook grabbed his bag, cane, and started to try and scoot over you.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to get by! So excuse me!”

His backside rubbed against your arms and, to your horror, your chest. Without thinking, your hand lashed out to smack across his bottom causing both of you to go as still as the dead. Your heart was thundering as you looked at your hand like it’d just finished committing murder. Maybe it had. But the only person it’d murdered was you with your eyes roaming up to see a shocked Jungkook gawking down at you over his shoulder. 

“Did you really just smack my ass.”

“It was an accident!”

“An accident?” He questioned.

“Self-defense!”

Jungkook tried to hide the amusement your no doubt panicking was causing him. His mouth struggling to keep the frown that was tilting ever so slightly at the top of his lips. 

“If anything needed to be defended, it was my honor. Over here just smacking people’s ass’s without a warning.”

You knew by now your face looked like a fire hydrant. 

“Self-defense from you dragging your ass all over me! I’m not a seat, ya know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

This time Jungkook didn’t try to hide his smile. To your surprise, it wasn’t a malicious one that showed he enjoyed your embarrassment. No. This one decorated his face in something softer that made your heart thunder to a different rhythm entirely. 

“Oh, look you guys. Shit Stain and The Cripple are flirting.”

Amber’s grating voice was one you’d grown painstakingly accustomed too. The sinister way she spoke impossibly loud just so everyone was forced to hear her. Whether they wanted to or not. You were used to her coldness and the constant way she harassed you. What you weren’t so used to, was having Jungkook as part of the punchline. 

Immediately, you felt his legs tense where they touched you. The muscles ramrod straight and flexing under the skin. The lighthearted tone you’d heard seconds before in your banter was now replaced with an aloofness that made you stiffen in your seat. Jungkook’s jaw held tight as he regarded Amber as if she were no more than a pest buzzing at his ear.

“Ya, fix your nose before you bother talking to me. I can see half the planet up there.”

Amber’s eyes flashed hellfire as she glowered over her shoulders to stop the giggling that ensued. When all grew quiet enough to where she felt like she would be heard, a harsh smile spread her lips. Her legs began to take a step to move away from the two peasants who’d held enough of her attention. 

“Whatever, Cripple. Try not to get your stick in any holes.”

She was passing the front of your shared seat when, suddenly, Amber’s legs gave way. A tumbling mess of shrieks, bleached hair, and her arms flapping rapidly a solid indication of her mysterious attempt at taking flight. The only thing that moved to catch her was her face. The minute the laughter began to bubble up inside you, you quickly placed a hand over your mouth. Least the she-devil hear it escape. 

You took a second to inspect what could’ve possibly taken down the ice queen. Even when she wore ridiculously high heels, Amber walked with a grace you knew you’d never pull off. Not without looking like a newborn giraffe, that is. Glancing down you noticed Jungkook’s cane strategically placed right where her foot would’ve landed. The culprit in making Amber a freshly minted carpet on the bus’s floor. Somewhere on the bus you knew she was up from her tumble and huffing a few choice words. You were sure she knew, just like you did, that Jungkook was the one who’d done it. You paid no attention to her tantrum and kept a transfixed gaze on him. 

He’d finished scooting the rest of the way to get to the middle of the bus and was situating his cane and shoulder bag. His hand suddenly reaching down into view and patiently waiting for you to take it. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.”

You knew you looked like a fool. Your eyes mirroring the thousands of silent questions that threatened to make you ill. A part of you hoping he understood your dumbfounded look simply begged him to find some way to answer you. You’d stared starry-eyed up at him for so long you half expected the patience of Jungkook’s open hand to fall flat. Instead, he continued to surprise you. His gaze gentle, and hand openly waiting for you to take it when you were ready. 

With eyes wide and mouth agape, your body rejected your stunned silence and placed a small hand in his. His own quickly enveloped yours perfectly and gave you the added support you needed to find stable footing beside him. Jungkook finally looked away from you to stare at the remaining goons. 

The moment you stood beside him you became painfully aware of the noticeable height difference. Your gaze moving up inch-by-inch until your eyes were locked onto his face. The stubbornness of a hard set jaw and eyes that dared anyone to speak enough to make your heartbeat pick up in your chest. When he appeared to be finished making sure his presence was known, Jungkook’s eyes turned back to you. A silent request of reassurance to know you were alright making you answer with a quick nod. 

Your cheeks blushed furiously as you struggled to look away from his gaze. No longer were you so worried about Amber; your mind trapped on a repeat of questions. Did Jungkook always smell like Calvin Klein cologne? Could it be considered weird how you felt undeniable comfort pressed up against him? Or really weird if in your head you suddenly imagined recreating this scene a million times later with you being braver beside him, instead of being the damsel in distress.

He didn’t seem at all perplexed with your case of sudden shyness. His strong legs pulling you both forward and past the horde of Amber and her lackeys without missing a step. His head held high while the other hand helped him keep his balance without using his cane. For the small world that was high school, Jungkook showed them he was still that once popular boy who was known for not taking shit from no one. A demi-god amongst mere mortals that were somehow honored by his presence. 

And here you were. So close to the orbit of his sun and walking away unscathed.

Your train of rushing thoughts kept you from paying attention. It was something you soon were going to regret when he led you off the steps of the bus and onto the dirt road. Jungkook’s exit was obviously graceful while yours in comparison was a train wreck. Instead of your feet stepping off the last step and landing like a normal person, you lost your footing. Your clumsy feet sending you struggling to find a balance with the earth before you crash landed on the floor. Luckily, Jungkook’s back was there to catch you. 

The momentum of your fall sent his feet skittering to correct you both before you fell into the dirt. A few choice cuss words leaving his lips and crimson flaring up on your cheeks to make the dance of falling even more entertaining. You could practically hear the cackling of the witches echoing out of the bus like a cave. 

Jungkook made quick work of righting you both; his good leg furiously hoping to support the weak one. His cane dug into the earth a good inch to add some more stabilization. You let go of his hand and moved away from his side where you’d previously been planted. You weren’t worthy of being there. This boy who saw your distress and helped you. Only for you to ruin it in the process. 

“Well that’s one way to ruin an exit,” he huffed. 

He glanced in your direction and you could’ve sworn he was smiling. Or was that a smirk? Whatever it was, it was quickly washed away as his eyes took you in. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry!”

Your words rushed from your lips with your back snapping to bow a perfect ninety-degrees. Your hair a curtain to try and hide your embarrassment. 

“Ugh...for what?”

“For bumping into you like that. I should’ve been paying attention.”

A soft laugh bounced from between his lips and you were willing to beat his face lit up like pure sunshine. You moved to stand upright just in time to see you were right. Jungkook was either oblivious to the way you were looking at him, or was simply unfazed. His shoulder hiking the backpack where it’d begun to fall as he adjusted himself to get ready to move to join the rest of the class up ahead. 

“You did ruin one hell of a stylish exit.”

“I don’t know how stylish you can be stepping off of a school bus, but...thank you.” 

The both of you locked eyes with one another. A large part of you hoped Jungkook was able to see the sincerity or at least hear it. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a pain in the ass after all. That soft smirk you’d grown accustomed to etched back on his lips as he took the first step towards your waiting classmates.

“No problem. Plus, I figured I owed you for letting me listen to your music.”

You felt your brow shoot up in mock surprise. Your legs falling into step beside him. 

“I thought you said I had terrible taste.”

“I never said terrible,” Jungkook corrected. His eyes danced with a playfulness that lifted a smile to your lips

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, it wasn’t the greatest, but thank you. I actually ended up liking most of it, at least.”

“Oh, what a sweet way of insulting my musical taste.”

“Hey! I said I liked most of it. It’s like a win-win. Kinda.”

You wanted to be snappy. Give him some more hell for always playing up on being a condescending moody jerk. In reality, walking next to Jungkook while the silence swelled around you without the awkward pressure; you knew that wasn’t all of him. He’d proven how sweet he could be at the memory of how easily you’d felt protected by a simple stretch of a hand. The look in his eyes while he waited for you to take his extended hand a plea to know you could trust him. Strangely, a part of you already felt like you could. 

You snuck a look over in Jungkook’s direction, and felt a smile begin to sweep up the corners of your lips. It was a different, but nice, change to have someone come to your defense. Yeah, most of the time you wanted to throttle him for seeming like he could care less. In that moment, however, he cared enough to help. That had to mean something.

“You’re welcome.”

You hoped your words conveyed the gratitude you felt in that moment. Prayed that Jungkook could hear it. When he looked at you, you made sure to give him a quick smile before you looked away. Your eyes struggled not to look back at him; to tell him all the things that were racing through your head. It took every ounce of your will to stay focused on the group of classmates that were growing closer. Somewhere along the way, you’d hoped Jungkook would’ve replied with his usual smart ass remarks. It worried you how sad a small part of you felt at his silence. 

Now, you worried maybe you were going a little nuts.

Instead, you came to the edge of the group in silence. Your ears struggling to grasp on to the middle of what your teacher gave out for instructions for the day. 

So what if that insane part of you didn’t receive a smart ass remark in return for your gratitude. You were more than happy with the fact Jungkook stayed by your side. The close proximity just enough to convey what you were both feeling without unnecessary words.

______________

For the past hour the farmer -Kim Sejung - had shown the class around his vast property. The beginning of this magical tour starting with where he manufactured the tofu once it was fermented then sent down to be processed for packaging. He was a man who took immense pride in his work. The next room where the fermentation took place and, his overeager explanation, spelled out how devoted he was to his craft. 

The whole entire backwards presentation was something your teacher decided became a chance for everyone to write down everything you’d been shown. A punishment you knew was coming when Kim Sejung lost half the class to their own conversations long before you’d hit the second part of his speech. 

Now, anyone could be wondering why all of you were taking the longest stroll of your life out in the middle of the farm. A fair question you’d been asking yourself since you realized your shoes were completely covered in mud. You’d been trying to understand why this hadn’t been the first place Kim Sejung would’ve taken all of you. Your only guess being he just enjoyed showing the process backwards. Or maybe he was secretly a  mastermind at torture. It was the only logical conclusion you could come up with at having the entire class now out in the muddy acres of his farm.

And sure, maybe your attention was being sent over your shoulder every five seconds. A certain boy with exhaustion creased in his brow making it harder for you to ignore. You were looking back so often you felt like you’d end up with whiplash at any minute. Really, it was all Jungkook’ fault for causing you to worry; becoming painfully aware with each glance at Jungkook’s struggling frame. 

How Sejung -, or anyone else for that matter, hadn’t noticed he was falling further behind the group with every step left you completely perplexed. You’d gave up listening to whatever the farmer or teacher talked about or what questions they were throwing around. You could bet it had to do about soil. 

If everyone else could ignore him why couldn’t you? It’s not that you hadn’t tried, cause of course you’d done exactly that. Your bottom lip now held a semi-permanent indent from your teeth. Whenever you felt that tick in your neck to look back to check on him: you bit down. When you felt like drawing attention to him by saying something: you bit down. A part of you willing to bet Jungkook would never forgive you if you did. 

Your solution? It was ingenious, really. 

You fell back behind every classmate. Patiently, you waited for everyone to pass you up. Your feet dragging in the muddy dirt until you were sure no one would notice when you inevitably stopped. 

With a soft count of three under your breath, you came to a halt at the back of the group. Your small count continued for another round before you were comfortable with the distance it’d placed between the group, Jungkook, and yourself.

You let out a huff of satisfaction as you turned around to give Jungkook your complete attention. Your neck thanking you for the small favor. What you found, however, greeting you was far from what you’d hoped to find. 

Jungkook’s current location became a solid five feet behind the group. His feet finally coming to the large puddle of mud that you and the class had easily maneuvered Jungkook had not. His struggle coming to a standstill at the muddy puddles edge. Jungkook’s face etched itself in harsh determination to no doubt allow him from moving forward. You told yourself you would stay back and wait for him. 

Just wait, You kept telling yourself over and over. A broken record having nothing on what you felt capable of standing there. Your pulse bonding in your veins and feet bouncing with anxiety as he assessed his options. All you were supposed to do was hang back to walk with him. That was it. You weren’t his nanny. You knew how he felt about being pitied, and yet, when he took his first tentative step out into the mud and his cane sunk deep and his bad leg followed suit, your feet deceived you. 

It appeared Mother Nature had her own way of pushing you past your reserved good intentions. Your feet sprinted forward fast enough that you were embarrassed at their quickness. The expected movement bringing Jungkook’s frustrated gaze up from his current dilemma to you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

The annoyance held in his question didn’t go unnoticed by you. If it was you in his position, you’d be annoyed seeing you standing there too and not offering to help. 

“I came to help you.”

The words just streamed out with your running thoughts. Your feet willing to move forward back into the mud to help him. Jungkook noticeably began to struggle to remove his foot that submerged quickly underneath. 

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have too, Jungkook. I want to help.”

“Let me rephrase myself.” His irritation was pure fire in his eyes as his words hurled in your direction. “I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”

You wish you could say you handled his dismissal with grace. That you understood he was only being a jerk because he was embarrassed and angry at his current predicament. You really wanted to be that bigger person. Well...that most definitely wasn’t what happened. 

Your eyes narrowed in on him. Your previous desire to help evaporated as you watched his leg sink deeper. His other foot soon joined the first in a poorly calculated attempt to release the other. Your arms crossed over your chest as you took in the scene before you. 

“Well, Jungkook, I’m not sure if you noticed but you’re slowly heading towards being buried under that mud.”

“Thank you for that astute observation. Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Why are you being such an asshole?!” you snapped.

Your arms came loose down at your side and turned to clenched fists. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected his reaction to be. You knew Jungkook held a hatred for being pitied. Hell, you would too if it was the other way around. You knew he wasn’t helpless, but you also knew he couldn’t do everything alone. No one could. So what was so wrong with offering to help him?

You weren’t sure how you looked. Maybe crazy? Or did the desperation of not knowing how to handle the situation have you appear sad? Whatever it was Jungkook saw, it was enough to look away. His eyes dropping down to his covered feet. 

The space between the two of you swelled with tension. His hair perfectly covering his face, and kept you from being able to steal any glance. It was enough to make you unsure if you should prepare yourself for a verbal battle with him or if you should simply walk away. What if you’d made a mistake thinking Jungkook would want to be bothered at all with help. Especially from you. 

“God, this is embarrassing.”

His words were so light you weren’t sure at first if he’d spoken. A part of you wondering if you’d made up the sound of his voice as Jungkook’s face continued to be hidden by layers of hair. But, lord help you, you knew you weren’t imagining things. The sound of his voice is something you’d come to recognize with ease. You knew without a doubt it most definitely was him. And the sadness that reverberated from his words made your anger dissipate instantly. 

“What?”

Could you have picked a stupider response? When Jungkook lifted his head up to look at you, you knew he silently agreed.

“It’s embarrassing!” His hands motioned to take in his current predicament. The hurt shown on his proud features made your heart ache to comfort him. “How pitiful can I get? It’s so damn frustrating! The cripple unable to get himself out of some stupid mud.”

“Jungkook, you are literally the least pitiful person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet, it doesn’t make me any less stuck.”

You took a step forward and began to try and edge around what you could of the puddle. You knew there was no way you weren’t getting more mud on your shoes, but the purpose was worth it. 

“Why didn’t you just go around it?” Your question earned you a dead stare. One that reminded you of your mother when she felt like you’d asked the silliest question. You held your hands up in surrender and said, “Hey. It’s a fair question.”

“If I just go around it, it proves that I can’t do the simplest thing, Y/N. It proves…”

“That you aren’t like everybody else,” you finished for him.

You could’ve kicked yourself. How could you not have noticed it sooner. Jungkook just wanted to prove to himself that he could still do things like he did before his accident. Because even though he showed people bringing up his disability didn’t bother him, it did. He still hadn’t come to terms with what happened, and believed the current state of his leg deemed him less worthy. 

He looked away from whatever he saw in your eyes. His own fighting not to show the sadness that threatened to spill down his cheeks. 

“You aren’t like everyone else, Jungkook.” Your words tore his head back in your direction. His shoulders quickly squared up to take whatever verbal blow you were about to hurl in his direction. You were happy to convince him otherwise.

“You don’t need to prove anything to a single person. Yeah, you aren’t a hundred percent who you used to be, but it doesn’t make you any less you. You aren’t defined by a damn leg and if another human being does treat you differently because of it: fuck’em. Now, get your shit together and hand me the end of your cane.”

The both of you stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook’s face unreadable as his eyes took you in making you squirm just the slightest bit. Whether he was looking for a hint that you were deceiving him; that something hurtful laid underneath, he wouldn’t find it. You made sure with your hand this time open and waiting for him, that he could see just how much you meant what you said. 

After what felt like a baby size eternity, Jungkook answered you in a way you’d grown to expect. In one swift motion, he picked his cane out from the mud and placed it, dirty end first into your waiting hand. Your face scrunched up in disgust, as the leftover mud squished between your fingers. The action enough to break the coldness of Jungkook’s blank expression into the smirk that was all too familiar. 

“Oh my god! You would do that.”

The amusement on his face was enough to tell you he’d most definitely done it on purpose. Of course, you’d already known that. You didn’t need his raised eyebrow or that devilish smirk to inform you of that.

“Oh, so you think you know me now.”

“I know enough to know, without a doubt, this is something you’d do. Brat.”

You saved the last word for good measure and it was met with a bark of surprise laughter. His reaction was not something you’d expected, but a welcomed one as his face instantly lit up brighter than you’d ever seen. Jungkook’s laughter and smile was genuine and good god, was it breathtakingly adorable. 

Who knew calling him a brat led to so many heart stopping possibilities? Like no longer having a permanent scowl. 

“Alright smart ass, how about we settle this for when I’m not stuck in the mud.”

“You got yourself a deal. Only if you stop pouting.”

“I was not pouting!”

It was your turn to laugh wholeheartedly while your other hand moved to secure itself to his cane. There was no way you’d be letting it slip free from you. Mud or no mud. 

“Tomato potato: pouting is pouting.”

Jungkook’s head tilted to the side. His brain noticeably trying to comprehend what it was you just said.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Jungkook now grab a hold of yo-“

Honestly, you should’ve seen this coming. He’d already given you a muddy end of a cane. It was the perfect foreshadowing moment that was leading up to this, and yet, somehow you were surprised when he pulled with full force. You figured he was strong - not freakishly. Not enough to send you flying face first toward the large mud puddle with the sound of a squeaking bird of surprise that you could only assume was yourself. 

The only thing that kept you from going face first was a split second decision to ruin just the lower half of your outfit. 

The impact with the mud was squishy and came with the weirdest sound effects that reminded you of pushing your hand into a container of slim. God, was it squishy. An immediate, “Ewww,” dragging out from your lips as your hands lifted up from where they’d been buried. Your eyes taking in the full extent of your lower half now resembles the Swamp Thing. 

Jungkook’s laughter brought you back to reality and flinging what was left of the mud on your hands in his direction. It only earned you another bark of laughter. 

“What in the hell was that for?!”

“Now whose pouting?” He teased.

You wanted to hit him but you knew you couldn’t reach. So you settled for flinging another round of mud. 

“Are you kidding me? You pulled me in here cause I said you were pouting!”

“Yup.”

“Unbelievable. You’re a child.”

“I thought you said brat?”

“That too! Ugh! Jungkook! You’re such a pain in the ass. I’m not helping you anymore.”

You moved to try and pull up one leg and found it way more difficult than you’d imagined. Seriously, was this shit superglue? No matter how many times you struggled to pull up either leg it wouldn’t budge; producing an agitated groan to seep from your body. 

You wanted to murder him. 

When you glanced up at him at least Jungkook had the decency to appear worried.

“Do you need help? I didn’t think it’d be so hard for you to pull yourself up.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about me not being able to pull myself up, but not about me covered in mud.”

The shrug Jungkook gave as an answer made you want to throttle him. You wanted to tell him to shove his help up his ass. Realistically, however, you knew there was no way you were getting unstuck without getting dirtier from crawling around. For a second time, his hand appeared, like magic, in front of you. 

Your eyes trailed up his hand to that devilish grin of his and found your earlier agitation disintegrate. What you hated the most, was how his eyes lit up to match his smile. This warm version of Jungkook wasn’t someone you were used to. You’d seen the cocky jock who knew he was good at everything. Experienced the real asshole Jungkook that made you want to rip out chunks of hair. But this side of him...was worth a heartache or two. 

Without another thought you reached out and took his hand and allowed him to start lifting you up. It wasn’t until you were half way you came up with your own plan. A devilish grin of your own spreading your lips wide as the idea grew into something worth doing . 

Jungkook had a moment to be confused before your free hand shot out and took fierce hold of his forearm. You made sure it was locked in place before your body went completely limp, and sent his body into an unbalanced mess. 

“The fu-!”

Jungkook’s descent, at first, made you feel like you’d accomplished a victory. One you didn’t get to relish in for long. Jungkook may not have been able to finish his earlier sentence, but you easily made up for it. A softened, “Fuck!” came pressed from your chest as he landed sideways on top of you. The angle reminded you of an awkward pair of scissors: if one part of the scissors was ridiculously muscled for a student. 

You’d had little time to move your hands up to brace yourself against his weight. The air from your lungs whooshing out in laughter with your body struggling to recover from underneath him. And no, no you weren’t painfully aware that your hands could feel every well lined muscle under the fabric of his t-shirt. And no, you were not blushing. Not even a little. 

You were sure when Jungkook lifted his head up to look in your direction, he’d see the sinful glee you took in your awkward positioning. Instead, your lungs erupted into laughter. One side of his face perfectly smeared with mud making one eye remain closed and his right doing most of the work. He looked ridiculous...and cute. 

“You think this is funny?”

“I think-I think it’s the best thing I’m going to see all day.”

It took a few tries to speak through your laughter, but when you finally got the words out you couldn’t have been more proud. Jungkook on the other hand, seemed to struggle to keep the annoyance on his face. The first sign of a smile cracking into the mud that began to dry on his face. 

Jungkook moved to prop himself up - the action giving you the room you needed to wiggle out from underneath him. You were about to call it a success, a retort to an unspoken comment he’d yet to make. All of it came crashing down, however, when Jungkook’s mud covered hand rose from the depths and placed a long streak down your nose with his thumb giving an artistic sweep across your cheek. 

The marks he gave reminded you of those old western movies you’d seen. Warpaint covered faces of men getting ready to square off to defend their home from invaders. The thought seemed to match perfectly with the beat of your heart thundering like a drum inside your chest.

It wasn’t just because Jungkook touched you - on purpose - in a playful way. It had nothing to do with the fact his muddy hand was currently resting against your cheek. Or from the denial that it brought out a spark of mischievous happiness to ignite inside you as your mouth fell open to expose the sound of laughter. No, your heart pounded against your chest purely for the look that passed behind chocolate eyes and the soft smile that followed close behind. 

So, sure. In that instance it could’ve just been a plan old look. You weren’t a hundred percent sure it wasn’t more than just a look though, either. There was that one boy in first grade, however, who did give you an aggressive teeth-clacking peck on the lips during recess, but this was completely different. 

And because you were so uncertain of what it all meant, your only reaction was to lift your hand up from beside you and slam it palm first against his face. 

Jungkook’s face lit up in shock and you couldn’t stop the eruption of laughter that spilled from your lips. It was an immediate rush of joy at seeing his handsome face marked by your small muddy handprint that streaked itself across the plains of his face. Normally, you’d be mortified: waiting patiently to be scolded and made to feel small. Instead, the shock wore off his face in an instant. Jungkook’s eyes lighting up with childlike excitement as a giddy, “Oh yeah?” rushed between his lips. 

You didn’t have a chance to wonder what he meant before he reached into the mud and brought up a snowball version of the earth. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” 

Your eyes went wide and frantic giggles exploded free as your body struggled in vain to get out from under him. The previous joy of being pinned by his weight dissipating when that large mud ball found its new home smeared on top of your head. 

“Jungkook-ah!”

His own laughter rose up around you as your body began to move in earnest to get out from under him. When you finally realized it was pointless, another bright idea overtook you. If Jungkook noticed the renewed mischievous glint in your eye, he didn’t show it. 

He continued to smile obliviously down at you until the two fist fulls of mud you’d taken in both hands came crashing down on top of his head. It didn’t matter that your face caught some of the aftermath: the face he made was priceless. 

You didn’t get a chance to enjoy your tiny victory before the two of you were a mess of arms and limbs rolling feverishly around; the two of you playfully wrestling for dominance. The mixture of your laughter rising up until you weren’t sure where Jungkook’s ended and yours began. By the end of it, you were both resembling the pigs you’d seen earlier on the farm. Bodies fully covered in wet earth and lounging beside each other in exhaustion. Every few moments random fits of giggles overtaking the two of you until you realized you both needed to get back. 

This time, instead of the two of you refusing help from the other, you eagerly took it. The both of you worked together to reach the edge of the mud pit and, without further incident, pulled each other out. 

The walk back to the main barn was done in silence. In other circumstances, you would’ve been consumed with a need to fill it. The impending weight of anxiety would’ve flared across your skin until you would’ve blurted out anything. Small talk was never one of your strong suits, but a comfortable banter had somehow formed between the two of you. You knew if you started talking, Jungkook would respond. It was still a fifty-fifty on whether or not it would be a smart ass response or a real one, but a response nonetheless. 

You didn’t try to start a conversation. You chose to enjoy the reassurance that he was beside you. Your mind running through what exactly just happened and how you both ended up looking like bad impression art. You’d spent so much time stealing glances in his direction that you could’ve sworn you caught him doing the same. But who were you kidding. No one had stolen glances at you since middle school, and that was only to steal the answers off tests. 

There was no way Jeon Jungkook would be the one to break that trend. No matter how flattering the thought. So when you felt that knowable itch of being watched you found yourself surprised that Jungkook was indeed staring at you. 

“Are you cold?”

Jungkook’s question jolted you from your train of thought and sent you reeling into another. He was closer to you now. Close like you’d been while sitting on the bus with your shoulders brushing with every movement. Every bump helplessly sending you lightly banging into the other. 

On the bus you could easily play it off as something out of your control. But now? Now there was no good explanation that you could find to why Jungkook decided to walk so closely beside you. There was no way to explain away the way his gaze drew across your face like he’d save it to memory. 

“Well I am covered in freezing mud water.” 

You’d tried for sarcasm but your voice barely carried over a whisper. It made Jungkook’s head subconsciously dip lower just to hear you. The devilish smirk he was infamous for spread like wildfire across his lips. 

“I would offer you my jacket, since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but you see some crazy person pushed me into the mud.”

A scoff escaped you as your hand playfully whipped out to slap his shoulder. 

“Ya, Jungkook! You? A gentleman? That’s funny. What is also funny is the fact you got yourself stuck in the mud first. I just came to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” He asked with an eyebrow coyly cocked. 

“I’m like your knight in shining armor.”

A throaty laugh came from between his lips; sending his head back exposing his face to the sun. You were mesmerized watching him as the sun kissed down across his face and weren’t at all ashamed at being caught watching as he brought his attention back to you. A smile of your own growing to match the one he wore along with your mind fluttering in wonder of how he was even real. 

“If you’re my knight, Y/N I’m in a lot of trouble.”

You feigned hurt but couldn’t hide the grin happily splayed on your face and, crazy thing was, you didn’t want to. It felt impossible that the two of you were so giddy with each other. A strange familiarity brewed heavily between you to the point it felt like the two of you joked like this for years. 

Jungkook’s own smile enough to warm the chill that began to creep up your arms to expose goosebumps on your skin. The two of you fell into a shroud of companionable silence and continued to make your way back to the main entrance of the farm. Your heart skipping a helpless beat every time you feel Jungkook’s fingers graze across yours. Your mind hopelessly wanting to believe maybe, just maybe, he was tempted to reach out and hold it. 

You came back to the main farm and found your teacher and classmates impatiently waiting. The immediate shock your teacher showed at your appearance seemed to grow more intense until he came storming over: hysterical at your current condition. 

“What on earth have the two of you been doing?!” 

“They’ve been rolling around with pigs.”

You knew that tart voice anywhere and wasn’t surprised it was Amber that spoke. What did surprise you was how much you didn’t care with Jungkook standing like an equally filthy calm current by your side. 

“We’re sorry, seonsaegnim,” Jungkook began coolly with a bow. When he realized you were still standing a hand shot out to the back of your head to bring it down. You quickly slapped it away but kept yourself in a bow. “We got lost from the group and found ourselves stuck in a giant mud pit.” 

“It seems to me like you were playing in it,” the farmer chuckled. “I could hose them off before they get back on the bus.” 

His offer left heat rising to your cheeks. The sound of a sea of giggles making your stomach ache in embarrassment. You used the curtain of your hair to hide and hoped they’d come up with a different suggestion, but with a small shrug of his shoulder, Jungkook brought your heated attention back to him. A soft smile cracking the now dry handprint you’d left across his cheek. 

It was ridiculous. You both looked ridiculous, and yet, he was still handsome. You probably looked like a troll. 

“Hey Knight in shining armor,” he whispered. “It seems we get to take a bath together.” 

The sun couldn’t be anywhere near as hot as your face felt. The heat spread from red cheeks and down your neck until the butterflies in your stomach were out of control. Jungkook knew what he had done. He could see it plainly on your face and he loved it. 

You, on the other hand, wanted to hit him. 

And just like divine intervention your teacher did it for you. His curled up pamphlet struck down on top of Jungkook’s head, but it only made his smile grow impossibly larger.

“Ya! I don’t think so! We’ll have you go one at a time to clean up. I’ll look for something for you both to change into.”

Jungkook went first to be hosed down. The farmer actually allowed him to have his privacy so he could get into his more...private areas in peace. The clothes that were found for both of you to wear were old gym clothes thrown in a box in the storage bay at the bottom of the bus. You imagined they must have been thrown there for a reason. The colors were sad and faded down to a color that resembled the mud you’d fallen in. An even sadder rim of yellow wrapped around the sleeves the only hope of color in the terrible outfit you were now forced to wear. At least it was warm with the added bonus Jungkook somehow ended up with the shortest shorts in the box. 

After the two of you dried off and changed you were shepherded onto the bus. The place that held Amber and her minions now vacant due to the teacher demanding you sit exactly in the far back in their spot. He must have imagined it would be like putting two naughty kids in time out. The only effect it really had was giving you the chance to breathe and enjoy the solitude. 

Jungkook dug around for your earbuds inside your bag. Finally finding the small container and lifting it open. His fingers pulling out the left and surprising you by placing it gently in your ear. Your face must have shown this but Jungkook paid you no mind. He was busy placing the other bud into his ear; flipping the case shut and throwing it back inside to forever be lost until you practically tipped out your bag to locate it again. Oh well. A problem for another time. 

“Put on something for the ride home, Y/N. I trust you to be dj again.”

You wanted to tease him. To joke about putting on the YMCA or Macarena . The only thing that stopped you was the relaxed features of Jungkook’s face. The lazy way his neck rested back against the seat and his head languidly gazing in your direction. You tried to squish back all the butterflies that look gave you and a hushed, “Alright. Lady Marmalade it is,” embarrassingly came from between your lips. 

Your eyes were too focused on your music list. You didn’t allow them to look as he chuckled beside you. The sound light and rough all at once - demanding you give it attention. 

“Don’t make me regret it,” he joked. 

You kept scrolling until you found Deans’ “D (Half Moon)”. The soft piano and tone of his voice quickly filled the ear buds and by the soft hum of the voice beside you, you knew you’d pick a good one. 

You allowed yourself to relax beside him. Your right hand placing the playlist down between the two of you. Your body was so relaxed you didn’t think about moving your hand anywhere else. Your eyes falling comfortably closed as you continue to listen to the acoustics of the song and the even softer, and equally pleasurable, song of Jungkook singing along. 

When his left hand found its way down beside yours, you didn’t question his reasoning. The music held between the two of you and maybe he wanted to change the playlist. You let your mind continue to think that even after his finger gingerly grazed yours and found a home beside them. Both of your hands stayed this way the entire ride back to campus. Neither of you moved to change positions; lost to the sounds of the melodies of the playlist.

[dracosaurusrex]

Take a Chance (Draco x Reader)

Summary: In which Draco is forced to come to terms with his behavior when he meets a girl much different than him.

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: Mostly fluff; slight angst; mutual pining

A/N: Happy New Year! I’ve been working on several fics lately, but this one was too tempting to resist. Like, I would think about it as I write my other drafts haha. Anyway, I hope you like it! Any feedback is much appreciated :D

Witches and wizards alike flitted across the skies as sounds of the blazing crowds consumed the quidditch pitch. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins fueled Draco’s senses. His mind, alert. His body, in sync. His eyes were peeled for the prized speck of gold. After several minutes of patrolling the air above, he sees it, and without a second to spare, he dives. Frigid wind angrily brushes against his platinum locks as he cuts through the sky--his focus now at an all time high. The sudden change in movement grabs the attention of the opposing team, and their seeker dived in just as fast, trailing behind the flash of green robes. Draco pressed onward, pulling his body inward to increase the acceleration--the snitch now within finger’s length. Within a spur of a second the two players collide, sending the boy flying off of his broomstick to fall freely towards the earth beneath him. The sky's the last thing that occupies his vision before it turns black. His body came into contact with the ground.

It was when he opened his eyes that he sees her. The girl with long, flowy locks was dressed in her Slytherin uniform, tending to the other seeker in the hospital wing. Despite the soreness that filled his body, he kept his gaze locked on her, observing her fluid motions as she addressed sustained wounds and injuries. She’s beautiful.

Draco witnesses Madame Pomfrey tapping the girl’s shoulder before gesturing to him. The moment she meets his gaze, a small smile appears on her face; and the boy, albeit the pain, makes the effort to cast one in return. His heart flutters as she approaches him--only worsening the closer she gets. 

“Hi,” She says sweetly, “I don’t think we’ve formally met. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’ll be taking care of you while you’re here.” She reaches her hand out towards him. He looks at her straight before firmly gripping it.

“Draco Malfoy, but you probably knew that already.” She laughs before pointing at her green and silver tie.

“Very much so. Can you sit up?” The boy winces in pain at his attempt to do so. Taking notice of this, the girl steps closer to his side.

“Here let me help you.” Y/N cautiously snakes an arm around his back, and gently lifts him upward. In doing so, he takes in her scent--it consisted of dark chocolate and citrus. The palms that were wrapped firmly around his shoulder loosen as she pulls a chair to the bed. She takes a seat and grabs the clipboard that was placed on the nightstand.

“Do you feel pain anywhere?” The boy thought about pulling a pick up line then and there, but abandoned the thought immediately.

“Just soreness everywhere.” He looked at her as she jotted his information down. She then tears her gaze from it momentarily.

“Can you rate it on a scale from 1-10?” 

“Probably an 8.” Her gaze fixated on the board once again. Draco admired the serenity that framed her features. The light that was casted from the window shines down on her, wrapping her in an angelic aura. 

“I’m going to take your pulse now, okay?” Cold, slender fingers wrap around his wrist, gripping it gently as she takes two other fingers and presses it to the base of his palm. As she counts in her mind, the boy takes initiative to engage in conversation.

“Why haven’t I seen you before?” She takes a moment to respond, writing down his info on the chart. After she finishes, she tucks her hair behind her ear and faces him.

“You’re a year above me.” She states simply.

“Surely I would’ve seen you in the common room though.” 

“Perhaps, but I spend a lot of time here in the wing. That explains why.” 

“Why do you spend your time here?” He ignores the pain he feels when he leans on his elbow, and towards her. She rubs her chin in thought.

“Call it training if you will. I want to be a healer.”

“That’s quite the ambition.”

“We Slytherins have pride in becoming something great, do we not? What better way than to take the opportunity now?” The attraction the boy felt only grew at the sound of her words. She flashed him a smile as she stood up.

“Where are you going? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?” He asked with slight disappointment in his tone. Its sound stirred some interest in Y/N. With her back turned, she bit her lip before reassuring him.

“I’m just getting your potion, Malfoy. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” She says before walking towards the front of the hall. The boy enjoys the energy she gives off, and allows his sights to linger on her as she plods through the aisles. He watches as she reaches for a vial from the shelf, proceeding to the way she dutifully writes down information on what seems to be a logbook. The girl catches his gaze, and grins slightly. The longer he lays on the hospital bed, under her care, the more he longs to remain there.

Y/N situates herself by his side again, handing the vial to the boy.

“You came in with your tibia and rib fractured, and your forearm broken. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey was able to tend to you right away. The potion is to ease the pain. It’s recommended that you rest after you take it. You’ll be able to leave tomorrow morning.” Draco opens the vial and gulps down the fluid before making a face of disgust. The way his face contorts induces the girl into laughter. She proceeds to hand him a cup of water in exchange for the vial in his grasp. 

“You must’ve had a nasty fall. I’ll leave you to rest now.” Just as soon as she turns, the boy frantically grabs her wrist.

“Will you be around tomorrow morning?” He asks. She glances down at his hand, but his grip remains.

“Tomorrow is actually my free day.” Her voice held a certain timidness, heat swarmed her head, and her heart fluttered. “Why do you ask?”

Upon realization that his grip lingered much longer than it should have, he pulls away stammering, “N-no reason. I was just wondering.”

“I’ll be in the common room if you need anything.” She states.

“I’ll see you there then.” She nods before flashing one last grin, leaving the boy alone to rest. 

--

Draco awakens the following morning, with thoughts immediately drifting to the fourth year that he encountered the night before. With his body slightly aching and a noticeable urgency in his step, he approaches the dungeons, and slips into the Slytherin common room with hopes to see Y/N. When he does, however, disappointment greets him in the form of another boy occupying the space next to her. Books are laid out in front of them, leading him to assume that he was a fourth year as well. He can’t help but stare from afar. Not only did she seem diligent in her healing duties, but she seemed as equally so when it came to her studies. The sound of her melodic laugh overtakes his hearing, while the sight of her smiling induces his heart to palpitate abnormally—merely wishing that it was him in the place of the boy.

Before he could do anything, a firm arm wraps around his shoulder. Standing next to him was his good friend, Blaise.

“Did Madam Pomfrey fix you up well, mate?” He asks. In attempts to get her attention, Draco responds with a volume slightly louder than normal.

“If it weren’t for her, I’d probably be dead right now.” He was exaggerating, but it was enough to get her to face him. Blaise chuckled and shook his head.

“Dramatic as always, but at least you’re well.”  

Y/N kept her sights locked on the boy, noticing how his friends started pooling in. Suddenly, he was surrounded by those she knew as Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass--all who were her upperclassmen by a year. They showed him concern, asking what parts of his body were in pain, laughing when they made jokes, and patted his back with reassurance that the next match will be better. She looks at them with longing, wishing she could be as close to the boy in that moment.

Draco meets her gaze, and softens his own. He gives her a soft smile, reducing her stomach into mush. She responds to him with one herself. Warmth fills both hearts as the moment ensues, however the sounds of his friends voices and the presence of a hand waving in front of her face pull the two back into their respective years.

“Y/N, what are you looking at?” Her best friend, Malachi, asks her. He needed help with charms--nothing more, nothing less. The boy follows her line of vision, tracing it back to the platinum-haired boy.

“Malfoy? He’s a fifth year, isn't he? Do you fancy him?” He asked a little too loudly for comfort. Y/N frantically placed her hand over his mouth, and threw him a glare.

“Shut up, Mal! You’ll be the death of me!” She expresses her disdain with a slap to his shoulder, to which he responds with a wince. The boy grips the area and furrows his brows at the girl.

“Isn’t he a bully, though? I get he’s quite a stunner, but why would you, out of all people, like someone so foul?” He wasn’t wrong. Draco had a notorious reputation for picking on others, but memories from their interactions tell her that there’s more to him than what others think.

“I can’t even say I like him--I literally only interacted with him yesterday. Pull your head out of the gutter.”

“You do like him, or at least you’re mildly attracted to him. It’s written all over your face, Y/L/N.” He said teasingly. 

“Stop it before I use you to practice my hexing charms.” The girl grabs her wand as a way to hoax him. He laughs again before raising his arms in defeat.

“Fine, but with the way he’s looking at you, I’d say he’s mildly attracted to you too.” The warmth from Y/N’s heart fills her face, while her hands grow clammy. When she looks up, she begins to understand what Malachi was saying, because Draco was staring at her from where he was standing. Unbeknownst to her, the boy beside her packs his belongings silently, gaining her attention only when his chair screeches.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“Mel is waiting for me in the courtyard. I promised we’d talk about her boy problems too.” He winks at her, eliciting imaginary steam from her head.

“I-I don’t have any boy problems!” It was her turn to speak in a tone much louder than what was acceptably normal, gaining the attention of the students around her. One of them being Draco himself. Malachi laughs at the girl before ruffling her hair.

“See you, Y/N!” The girl rubs her temples in frustration as she waves the boy away. 

“Idiot.” She mutters under her breath. Her mind is swamped with ideas to get back at her friend that she doesn’t notice him approaching her. Draco sits across from her, taking note of the way her quill was aggressively dragged along her roll of parchment. It amuses him seeing her riled up. Her face was scrunched in annoyance, and her cheek was planted on the surface of her palm.

“Pleasant morning, Y/L/N?” The sudden sound of his voice startles her.

“Very much so. Weren’t you with your friends?” She asks. Her sights juggled between him and the words in her text.

“I was. They went to breakfast.”

“You should eat also. You need to replenish your body from yesterday’s fall.” Y/N places her quill down, clasped her hands together, and looked at him with a knowing look in her eye.

“I would’ve, except I couldn’t help but overhear someone going on about their boy problems.” Draco leans forward with a mischievous expression. He raises his eyebrows at the girl, while 

A coy smirk spreads across his lips. She merely rolls her eyes in response.

“I don’t have any boy problems. My friend was being a git.” She stated in matter-of-fact. Concern then took over, and she remembered the boy’s fragile state. 

“In all seriousness though, how are you feeling? Do you feel any pain anywhere?” Draco, too, dropped his flirtatious facade at the sound of her voice. The expression held in her eyes elicited nervousness from him as they looked directly into his.

“I’m doing fine,” He pauses, “A little sore, but I’m fine.” The boy settled in a more serious state and leaned into his seat.

Feeling a little brave, Y/N reached for his hand, which was propped on the table and lightly  squeezed it. Her touch tingled his senses.

“I’m glad you’re alright. I can get you another vial if you’d like.” She says. A gentle tone fills her voice and she gives him yet another bright smile. He shakes his head--his lips pulling into a genuine grin.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be needing it.” She nods and retracts her grip. A comfortable silence ensues as she resumes her studies. The boy admires her from his seat. She has the same focused expression that she had when she tended to him the night before. Hair that fell to her face was tucked behind her ear. Her fingers mindlessly spun her quill as she read. She wasn’t actively trying to get his attention, but somehow that was all he could give her.

“Y/N,” He calls out.

“Yes?” 

“I think you’d make a wonderful healer.” The comment makes her face bloom into a bright expression. Within a few moments, she reaches into her bag. Out comes a green apple, which she then places in front of the boy.

“Thank you. With best intentions for you in mind, here’s an apple for your consumption.” He chuckles and takes it.

“Healer’s orders.”

--

Weeks go by since their first interaction. Due to the differences in their years, there isn’t much that goes on between them during the day (to Draco’s dismay). Y/N, although keeping herself occupied, finds that her thoughts drift to the boy from time to time as well. There are several things that irk her, however: the arrogant pride that comes out when with others, and the bullying. A gut-wrenching distaste sat within her every instance that she witnessed it, and the way he treats her in contrast to others is appalling. Therefore, she takes advantage of the distance. It doesn’t deny the butterflies that erupt in her stomach when she sees him, but it allows her to stay true to her morals and values, giving her some peace of mind.

In the midst of all her emotions, she finds herself sitting in potions, listening into Snape’s lecture on the Calming Draught. It was used for calming individuals suffering from shock or trauma, and was a substance commonly found in the hospital wing. The subject itself was something that Y/N desired to excel in, however there have been plenty of moments where she’s seen struggling. Taking note of this, Snape decides to request the assistance from one of the upperclassmen to tutor her. The class session for fourth years takes place during the later half of the day, and by then most fifth years have a study hall to utilize for OWLs review. Without much knowledge about her predicament, Draco walks into the classroom with disinterest painted on his face, and approaches the professor. 

“Mr. Malfoy, glad to see you could make it.”

“Of course, professor.” Snape senses the hint of the begrudging tone in his voice. 

“Ms. Y/L/N, please come up to the front.” The boy’s heart races at the sound of her last name. There’s a shift in energy almost immediately, as she’s seen walking towards the two. Her eyes widen at the sight of the familiar boy, moreover at the realization that he may very much be the tutor Snape was referring to.

“Draco, it’s nice to see you.” She says politely. He nods in response.

“It seems you’re already familiar with each other? Good. Y/L/N, you’re dismissed. Mr. Malfoy will be responsible for tutoring you from this point forward.” The boy waits for her at the entrance of the room while she collects her belongings. Another set of butterflies erupt, and nervousness racks her insides. She purposefully takes her time as she moves towards the door. Draco lightly grins when he sees her. 

“I didn’t know you were good in potions.” She says.

“Let me surprise you then.” 

The pair slowly made their way to the library, discussing things that have happened since the last time they spoke. The boy had been busy studying for his OWLs while Y/N spent her time in the hospital wing as always. It was a funny feeling, really--the ease that came when engaging in conversation. The fact that he was indeed a bully went past her head the more they spoke. In such little time, she learned new things about him, like the way he nodded when he paid attention to her speak, the way he’d fumble with the rings on his fingers, and the way he spoke with expressive hand gestures. He was boisterous and animated, and not too shabby in contrast to the moments when ill-formed words poured out of his mouth. 

“So what role does lavender play in this concoction?” The boy sat with her textbook in hand, quizzing the girl on the brewing process for Calming Draught. He glanced at the girl who was deep in thought.

“It’s calming to aches and an agent for relaxation, is it not?”

“Perfect.” Relief overcomes Y/N, and the comfort she feels around him increases.

“Draco, you’re taking your OWLs this year. What do you plan on doing after you graduate?” He takes a while to respond. It wasn’t something he thought about all the time. 

“Perhaps something close to Alchemy. I’m good with potions, so probably something within that realm.” The girl stared in awe.

“What’s with the look?” A scowl found its way to his face while he fiddled with the pages of her book.

“I think it’s really cool. I never would’ve expected.”

“And why’s that? I’ll have you know I’m very capable.” Y/N sensed a defensive tone in his voice. Nevertheless, she approached her response with much caution.

“Well,” She hesitated, “I don’t see you often, and when I do it’s mostly when you’re picking on others.” She lowered her volume towards the end of her sentence. The boy quirked a brow upward.

“And how does that impact my abilities to excel?” She actively avoided his gaze.

“I’m not saying it does, but it’s not like I know what goes on in that mind of yours either.” The boy softened the tension in his facial features. She was nervous, and he didn’t realize how much her opinion mattered to him until that moment. A small knot began to form in his stomach.

“Well what goes on in your mind when that happens?” He leans forward, interested in what she had to say.

“I would think, ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that.’” She said honestly. The frown on his lips deepened, the knot that had formed only grew bigger, and he glanced anywhere except her.  How was he supposed to respond? The differences between them felt greater than what it seemed. Without much thought, he silently closed the book and shifted it to her. With the feeling of defeat overcoming him, he lifts himself from his seat and leaves. 

The action alerts the girl right away. With her heartbeat elevated and her eyes widened, she frantically shoves her books in her bag, and trails after him in a brisk walk. She catches sight of the platinum-haired boy, and quickens her pace. With much urgency, she grabs his wrist, panting at the amount of energy she just spent trying to meet him.

“Draco, why’d you leave? Is there something wrong?” Y/N’s grip remained unwavering as he turned to her, exposing the shame that filled his eyes. Without meaning to make himself any more vulnerable, he faces away. 

“You can’t just walk away like that and expect me to pay no mind.” She says.

“I don’t think you should be seen with someone like me Y/L/N.”

“What are you talking about? You’re my tutor. I-”

“But I’m also a prick. You have your values, I have mine,” He scans her from head to toe, “I’m not exactly your definition of good.”

“Draco, I don’t understand why that would matter. You’re my tu-”

“Are you really that daft?” His sudden outburst shocked her.

“I like you, Y/N. Your damn opinion matters to me, but I don’t exactly fare well with others in comparison to you.” The girl stood there in shock. With her mind processing his declaration, she couldn’t find the proper words to form a coherent sentence. Draco shifted his view to her hand that remained wrapped around his wrist. Disappointed at her lack of response, he shook it off and trudged away. 

--

To be quite frank, Y/N didn’t know exactly what to feel. Surely, the boy crossed her mind here and there, and it wasn’t wrong to say that she enjoyed his company, but why would he like a fourth year like her? Wouldn’t it be more logical for him to like someone who had more in common with him? 

Three weeks had passed since their last encounter. The girl tried her very best to understand what Snape was lecturing about, so she wouldn’t have to be tutored by the boy. Besides, it wasn’t like he was making the effort to face her either. Whenever he’d enter the common room, he wouldn’t even look at her (at least that’s what she thought). The boy would take a seat with his friends, join in conversation, and laugh along as if the feelings he had for the younger was nonexistent. Perhaps that was the reality of the situation. It shouldn’t bother her--she didn’t want it to--but it did. She found herself cursing the day she tended to him. If only she had taken leave earlier, then he wouldn’t have known about her, and all of these feelings would’ve been avoided. At the same time, it was bliss talking to him--it felt natural. She was comfortable around him, and he believed in her ability to succeed. Yet, the barrier found within their differences managed to convince her to keep her feelings suppressed. 

“Earth to Y/N, what the heck is going on with you?” Y/N finds herself stuck tutoring Malachi in charms yet again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You’ve been dozing off for a while now.”

“Oh, have I? I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“Clearly. You’re normally so focused. Did something happen recently?” As if on cue, Draco enters the common room, eyes meeting hers for a second before they shift elsewhere. She feels pain slowly creeping into her chest.

“Nothing, really,” She lies, “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to head to the hospital wing.” Malachi nods his head, and helps her from her seat.

“Can you make it there by yourself?” He asks. She nods before giving a weak smile. 

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Draco witnesses the interaction from the sofas located in the center of the room. Jealousy arises at the sight of her friend lifting her, patting her back, and sharing her smile. At the same time, however, her dazed expression fills him with worry. His sight follows the girl as she walks past him, not bothering to spare him a glance. Malachi notices this, and approaches him as soon as she leaves the room.

“Malfoy, may I have a word with you?” His confrontation sparks the attention of the group of fifth years surrounding him.

“Anything you have to say to him, you can say to us. Spit it.” Pansy spews aggressively. 

“Easy now, Pans.” Draco lifts himself from his seat, “Let’s take this outside.” The two situate themselves in the halls of the dungeon, keeping silent for a short while.

“Is this about Y/N?” Draco asks. 

“You can’t fool me, Malfoy—I see how you look at her. She’s not okay, and as her friend, I want to know what happened.” The demand in his tone kindled a slight annoyance in the boy’s gut. 

“Nothing happened, and I can assure you that if she wanted you to know, then she would’ve told you already.” 

“Merlin, don’t you notice the way she looks at you?” The tension in Malachi’s voice grew. 

“What do you mean?” The previous question took Draco by shock.

“For two smart individuals, you both are incredibly daft.” A scowl appeared yet again on Draco’s face, however the other boy remains firm.

“If the reason behind the way you look at her is exactly what I think, then all I can say is that she thinks about you too.” The way he framed his words made Draco’s heart beat. He releases the tightness in his face, allowing himself to express more gentleness at the thought of Y/N.

Malachi continues, “Y/N has a logical way of thinking. With her head wrapped around her goals, how could she not? Her mind is constantly fixated on the next step and its consequences, so much so that she doesn’t allow her heart to decide.” The rosy feeling ignited within his chest once again. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you two are pining like idiots.” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Besides, I’m sure there’s a softy under that bully we all know.” 

“Shove off git.” 

“Pleasure.” Malachi retreats to the common room, leaving Draco alone in the hall. He chuckles softly before setting off to find Y/N. As he navigates his way through the halls and corridors, his thoughts drift to the way she responded in the past. Would he be able to handle it if she reacts the same way? When the boy finds her, she’s seen in the hospital wing organizing potion vials—her focus was completely locked onto her work. Once he’s in front of her, he clears his throat.

“Excuse me, can I have a vial of Calming Draught?” The familiar voice causes the girl to freeze in place. With much hesitation, she looks up at him.

“You need a referral, Malfoy.” She returns to her duties, but the boy doesn’t leave.

“Then is it alright if I can lay down here? I don’t feel too well.” Y/N glares at him.

“Should I hex myself then?” The boy pushes his luck, eliciting a sigh from the girl.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” The boy sits himself on the bed nearest to the counter she’s stationed in.

“I wasn’t feeling well. I’m feeling pain.” Y/N glances over to Madame Pomfrey, who’s occupied with other students. With a softened glance, she turns to Draco.

“Where does it hurt?” She asks. He points to his heart. “Right here.” The girl couldn’t help but let out a laugh, making him beam in response.

“Don’t waste my time, Malfoy.” She suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes.

“Time with you is time well spent.” Heat rises to her face before she releases a groan of frustration followed by a fit of giggles. She grabs his wrist and pulls him into a secluded hallway.

“Care to explain to me why you’re here? For real this time?” Draco’s face turns serious as he scans her eyes. Her body was close to his, arms crossed over her chest, and her face pointed up at him to meet his gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl raises her eyebrows in response, prompting him to continue.

“I shouldn’t have left you the way I did.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I like you, and the opinion you have of me matters.” The boy stumbles over his words, “I’m a git, and you’re the exact opposite. You’re diligent, you’re smart, you’re considerate, you’re ambitious,” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “You deserve someone who has a better reputation than I do—someone who can help you.”

Y/N’s arms fell to her sides, her heart rate ramped up with its beats wildly pounding against her chest.

“I’m sorry too.” She says softly. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did,” she smiled weakly, “I knew I liked you also, Draco. I have for a while now. I was afraid of taking a chance—that our differences would somehow come between us, and drag us down.” The boy cherished the way she referred to their relationship with an “us”. It was as though they were already in this together. Furthermore, he closed his eyes in relief before opening them once more to face her. Without any warning, he snakes his arms around her waist and brings her into a close embrace.

“Surely we can work something out, right?” He asks. The depth of his voice induces goosebumps to rise on her skin. With hesitation, she trails her fingers up his forearms before resting her palms on his biceps. Her chest overflows with rosiness and warmth. 

“I think we can.” She presses her ear to his heart, taking in the sounds of his rapid heart beats. 

“You’ll give me a chance?” He parts from her, hands still lingering on her waist, his face slowly and mindlessly leaning in.

“Only if you give me one too.”  The gaze she holds shifts to his lips and back to his silvery orbs. Draco notices this, and lowers himself even closer to her. She can feel the shape of his lips ghosting over hers.

“What are you waiting for? Kiss-” The boy doesn’t hesitate to cut her off, pressing his lips gently on her own. He closes his eyes, and allows himself to memorize the feeling of her mouth. He then tightens his embrace, pressing her body flushed against his. The girl, in turn, steps on her tiptoes, and wraps her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer and deepening the kiss. Sparse breaths were taken in between, only to be disturbed by the reunion of their lips—each time becoming more passionate than the last. Draco lifts one of his hands to her cheek, dragging his thumb along her cheek bones, while she takes the liberty to run her fingers through his hair. The longing that has accumulated throughout the weeks poured throughout the duration of the kiss each caressed one another with gentle, affectionate intent. 

“Does your heart still hurt?” She asks before pressing her lips on his again. 

“I think I’ve been healed.” He responds briefly, and plants another one with him  smiling into it. 

“Good.”

“Good.” 

A/N: Thank you once again for reading! I’m going to try to post my other fics asap! School is starting up again, so I’ll try to find a way to adjust, although I can’t guarantee I’ll be posting as much :D Nevertheless, I’ll try my best; I appreciate you all and the support you give! I hope you have a great New Year!

Tags C:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt

[willowandfog]

Taking Flight

Summary: Kagome has been struggling with her disability most of her life but she's never felt anything but normal with Inuyasha always steadily by her side. But when her neurologist approaches her with the chance to recover full use of her leg, she takes it.

A childhood friends to lovers, soulmates AU

Read on AO3 or Below the Cut

Sorry this is a day late, work got in the way and I literally fell asleep at my desk yesterday trying to write this chapter ^.^

See you soon for chapter six, first date!

Kagome would never let Inuyasha find out about the fact that she had brought work with her. It really needed to get done, and even though she was technically already on vacation she felt responsible for it. Besides, she knew that she would need the distraction it would bring. She was staying with her mother, Inuyasha and herself had reluctantly agreed to sleep apart for the night. 

Stupid tradition. She thought. It’ll be good for you guys, they said. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they said. 

Kagome rolled her eyes and sighed. Leaning back she tried to loosen her shoulders and relax a little further into the tub. She would admit that it had been nice to just sit and have some girl time over a lovely dinner with her mother and Izayoi, and her grandfather adding in cheeky commentary every now and then. Steam rose from amongst the lavender scented bubbles as Kagome closed her eyes and shifted her head, trying to get her neck into a more comfortable position, the loose tendrils that framed her face growing damp from the brief dip into the tub. 

The tension in her body began to melt away and she hummed in appreciation. 

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Inuyasha was in a daze as he sat on their comfortable tan couch. He was in Kagome’s normal spot because it held her scent more than anywhere else, other than the bed; but he decided he wasn’t going to be that guy, laying in bed missing her, yet. The television was on but he wasn’t paying attention, he was missing her; he’d been away from her before, obviously. But never like this, not in a long time, not since they had both turned eighteen and moved into the apartment together. They spent their work days apart but they always, always were together while they slept. It helped soothe them both, him more so with his youkai instincts screaming at him to bond with her. When she was safe and content in his arms he was settled, he was at peace with himself, mostly. He found that the youkai was most quiet when he was being intimate with Kagome and they had been abstaining from that for the past week. 

He sighed, throwing his head back. He felt like there were bugs crawling under his skin, like his youkai was going to claw out of his body and rip the door off its hinges and go find its mate. He knew where she was staying, of course; she was spending the night at her mother’s, but knowing he wouldn’t see her till tomorrow afternoon, and the thought of sleeping without her was driving him crazy. A knock on his door snapped him out of his stupor. 

Kagome! No, stupid, Kagome wouldn’t need to knock. 

With a sigh, he rose to answer the door. When the door swung open he let out an audible groan.

“What do you guys want?”

“Greetings, my liege. Thy fair maiden has bestowed upon us a quest.” Miroku grinned at him as he presented his arm full of liquor bottles. 

“What the hell are you talking about and why are you talking like that?”

“Because he already started drinking in the car and you pick the weirdest friends.” Kouga stated from his position behind Miroku, arms folded across his chest.

Inuyasha sighed. “So why are you guys here?” He stepped to the side to allow them inside.

“Thy maiden-”

“No.” Inuyasha said as he closed the door. “You, speak.” He pointed to Kouga before crossing his arms and continuing. “Why are you here? I’m not great company right now.”

Kouga raised a brow as he ventured over to the couch, just as he was about to sit Inuyasha let out a fierce growl.

“I don’t think so, wolf.” Inuyasha spoke through gritted teeth. “You will sit over there.” He pointed to the armchair. “Don’t think I don’t know why you zeroed in on that spot.” Inuyasha went over and sat in the spot Kouga had tried to claim. 

Kouga rolled his eyes before moving to the chair. “Kagome sent us over as the idiot said. She thought it would be best if you had friends over to help you make it through the night. Well technically she said ‘could you guys go over and have a guys night, Inuyasha might have a tough time by himself.’”

Inuyasha’s heart ached and he found himself rubbing a hand across his chest. Of course she would make sure he wasn’t alone without her. She was the most amazing, thoughtful person in the world. She was so sweet, kind, and never selfish. She should never have to do anything for herself, she should be taken care of, always. 

Inuyasha suddenly stood, he had to go to Kagome, she might need him. He had almost reached the door when Kouga was blocking the way, holding a hand up as if that would stop him. 

“Move. I’m going to Kagome, screw this sleeping apart shit.” 

Kouga didn’t move. “Come on, Inuyasha. It’s just one night, Kagome is safe at her mother’s and you’ll see her tomorrow. You’re getting married tomorrow, the next time you see her she will be walking down the aisle to pledge herself to you. You’re a man, not a wild animal, pull yourself together.” 

Kouga rested his hands on Inuyasha’s shoulders and turned him around, giving him a nudge back towards the couch. “Now go sit, let Miroku pour you a drink and we can hang out and be bros or whatever.”

Miroku handed Inuyasha one of the bottles of bourbon he had set on the coffee table before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“Really?” Inuyasha questioned him, sitting. “You think trying to get me drunk will help with my decision making and that I might feel less like shit about the fact that she’s not here?”

Miroku shrugged. “Nah. Just thought a little might help you relax. Try not to be so aggressive, your mate is fine, you’ll see her tomorrow, and for now you sit and relax and hang out with your friends.”

Inuyasha sighed as he twisted open the bottle and took a swig. “So why are you here? We aren’t friends, acquaintances at best.” 

Kouga let out a chuckle. “‘Cause Kagome and I are friends, and she asked me to come over. She wanted someone that would be able to help in case you went all crazy youkai on Miroku trying to leave the apartment.”

“Ok, ok. Fine. I know that this is something that Kagome agreed to, and she obviously wants to stick with it, so I’ll try my best to reign in the urge to bolt out of here. Pick up a bottle Kouga, let’s get drunk.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Kagome sat on the guest bed, back propped up against the headboard, her comfortable Slytherin pajama bottoms on paired with one of Inuyasha’s shirts that was far too large on her small frame. Her damp hair was thrown into a messy bun on top of her head and she had her work laptop in her lap. As she typed furiously away on her computer her mind kept trying to wander. She wondered if Inuyasha was holding up ok, knowing that this separation would be harder on him with his need to bond. 

Checking the time, she knew that Miroku and Kouga must be there by now, she hoped they were distracting him. She contemplated texting one of them to make sure they were over there and that things were going alright, but decided against it since she knew that Inuyasha would have a harder time if he knew she was worrying over him. She was briefly curious to know what they were doing to occupy their time but decided against that line of thoughts so she tried to focus back on her work. 

When she found her thoughts straying again sometime later, she closed her laptop on a huff. Climbing from the bed, she placed her laptop back into her bag before making her way to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. As she was brushing her teeth she thought about Inuyasha, and how he had always placed her needs first. Hell, he had built his life around her, his career was even chosen for her benefit. Wanting to be able to take care of her the best that he could, he had gone into physical therapy, spending years in school and gaining his doctorate. 

The surgery she had undergone had worked as well as could have been expected, she could mostly walk correctly, she had a noticeable limp at times but never required her crutch, and when her leg would get sore or start cramping up, she would just wear her leg brace and everything would be fine. Now that she didn’t need constant therapy, she wondered if Inuyasha would think or want to change specialties. She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with him about it yet, with her healing and rehabilitation after the surgery and with the upcoming wedding, but she made a note to do so soon. 

She would be forever grateful that he had chosen a physical therapy career, but it also caused her some guilt every now and then. He had picked his path because of her; if she hadn’t had her stupid injury, would he still have gone down that road? She didn’t think he would have, and she would make sure that he knew how much she loved him for his decision but that he didn’t have to stay in a career that he didn’t enjoy, especially if there was something else he would rather be doing. 

She snuggled under the covers, tugging the extra pillow over to cuddle with, wishing once again that she was back home with Inuyasha. 

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“I still can’t believe you tried to kiss her!” Miroku burst into another round of hysterical laughter, almost toppling off his seat. “You’re so lucky,” he sucked in a breath between his laughs, “that Kagome is so soft-hearted. Inuyasha,” more laughter escaped him, “Inuyasha would’ve killed you!”

Kouga tried to resist Miroku’s contagious laughter but couldn’t, finding himself chuckling even as he glared at him. “Well, i-s was worth it; I was a hair's breaths away from being Kagome’s fir-rsst kiss. If I would ‘ave kissed her and died as a result, it would have been worth it.” 

Inuyasha growled. “Watch it.”

“What?” Kouga gasped in feigned disbelief. “You should take that as a compl-lment. Your mate is highly dessirable and she wants only you. If the roles were r-reversed here, and gods do I wish they were, I’d be rubbing it in your face. If I got to touch that perfects body, and kiss those lus-...luscious lips and smell her delicious c-”

Inuyasha pounced, tackling Kouga from his spot on the edge of the chair and rolling with him to the ground. They rolled over one another over and over, both trying to get the upper hand, both too drunk and uncoordinated to function well. 

“Here’s an idea,” Kouga said between the rolls, “we should hav-a rematch, winner getsss to marryy ‘Gome tomorrow.”

Inuyasha jumped to his feet, swaying, and put his fists in the air. “You got it. Y-your’s so going dow..n” He tilted his head as if confused by his own words. “Kick yooour ass again.”

Kouga slowly rose, using the back of the chair for balance. “Dream on, doggie...dog boooy.” 

When Kouga took a wavery step towards Inuyasha, raising his own fists, a loud snore snapped both of their attention to the couch. Miroku lay sprawled out on the couch face down, arm dangling off the side, empty bottle dangling from his fingers. 

Inuyasha dropped his arms and straightened. “Better idea. I go lay on ‘Gome’s sside of the bed, and dream ‘bout how ‘morrow she’ll be my wife and my soul bond-ded mate.”

“Nooo.” Kouga whined as Inuyasha stumbled towards the bedroom. “Come back, fight. I wanna marry ‘Gome.”

“Dream on, wolf.” 

As Inuyasha dropped face first into the bed, he pulled Kagome’s pillow close, snuggling his face in deep as he held it tight to his chest. He breathed in a deep breath of her scent, missing the chirp from his pocket, as he quickly succumbed to his drunken sleep. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Kagome laid there, staring into the darkness, realizing that she couldn’t sleep without the sound of Inuyasha’s soft snoring and his warmth surrounding her. She groaned at herself as she felt the beginnings of tears start to form, swiping at her cheeks when they escaped. Giving in, she rolled over and grabbed her cell phone from the night stand. Rolling back into her spot, she sent a text to Inuyasha, telling him that she couldn’t sleep and that she thought hearing his voice might help.

She lay staring at her phone, waiting for almost an hour before she decided that he must have gone to sleep already. Putting Friends on the television, she laid on her side and hoped that sleep would come soon. 

@ruddcatha @superpixie42 @dawnrider @smmahamazing @bluejay785 @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @fawn-eyed-girl @clearwillow @i-dream-of-soup @liz8080 @zelink-inukag @malditamigs

[victoria-daydreams]

The Long Way Home

Chapter Eight: The Plane Ride from Hell

AN: This week flew by so fast that I almost forgot to post this chapter today.

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.8k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09​, @eiferundruhe​, @greatscott--wrongdecade​

Chapter Nine: Nighttime & Morning Chats

As day turned to night, darkness had swept throughout the sky and no one really felt like sleeping. But I'd be damned if I didn't try.

I had moved to a table at the front of the plane in the aisle opposite of Charles who was sitting on his own. Logan remained in the back and was reading and drinking of course. I sat silently in the window seat with my head leaned against the wall, my eyes were closed as my mind was full and busy. My arms were folded against my chest to preserve the little warmth I had.

Suddenly, I felt a soft material gently cover my body, it was a blanket and it instantly made me feel better. Familiar hands grazed my arms as they tucked the blanket around me, an unintentional smile reached my lips from Charles' gesture. A breathless laugh left his lips at my reaction, his finger softly stroking my cheek up and down.

"There's the Charles I fell in love with," I thought.

Abruptly, I felt him snatch his finger away from my face and a tinge of sadness hit me from Charles, he must've of remembered the state of our broken relationship. I felt his gaze linger on me before I heard him shuffle back over to his seat, opening my eyes I watched Charles through the reflection of the window. Erik walked over to him and placed down a chessboard with the brown and black figures already set in their respective positions.

"Fancy a game? It's been awhile," Erik said to him.

My lips quirked up slightly at what he was doing, it was a peace offering from what happened earlier.

"Kudos to you Erik," I thought.

"I'm not in the mood for games, thank you," Charles sipped from his glass of whiskey, turning his head away from his friend to stare outside the window.

Erik reached over and picked up his own glass and poured himself some of the dark amber liquid.

"I haven't had a real sip in ten years," Erik noted, perching himself on my table as he took a swig of the alcohol. His eyes closed as he savored the expensive drink. He placed it down looking at Charles. "I didn't kill the president," Erik stated, it took everything in me not let out a gasp.

"The bullet curved, Erik," Charles argued.

"Because I was trying to save him," Erik countered, defending himself. "They took me out before I could," he explained. "I would say ask our resident human lie detector if I'm lying, but she's sound asleep," Erik commented, looking over his shoulder at me as I simultaneously closed my eyes.

"Why would you try and save him?"

"Because he was one of us," Erik answered, turning back to face Charles and I reopened my eyes.

Charles' face softened, letting out a scoff as he stared at him in shock, "You must think me so foolish," he murmured. "We've always said they would come after us," Charles remembered, shaking his head.

"I never imagined they'd use Raven's DNA to do it," Erik admitted, looking down to the floor, ashamed.

The two of them were angry at each other, I could feel it. But they were talking so softly you would have never guessed it.

"When did you last see her?" Charles asked curiously.

Erik clicked his tongue and rose from the table to sit in the seat across from Charles, "The day I left Dallas," he answered.

"And how was she?"

"Strong. Driven. Loyal..." Erik started, listing adjectives.

"How...How was she?" Charles repeated closing his eyes.

"She was...We were-" Erik couldn't find the words to say the right thing. "I could see why she meant so much to you. You should be proud of her, Charles," he commented with a smile. "She's out there fighting for our cause,"

"Your cause," Charles corrected. "The girl I raised, she was not capable of killing," he reminded.

"You didn't raise her, you grew up with her. She couldn't stay a little girl forever, that's why she left,"

"She left because you got inside her head," Charles said slowly, leaning forward over the table.

Erik smiled slightly, then shook his head, "That's not my power." Erik quipped, defending his position while looking at Charles. "She made a choice," he added.

Charles nodded and stared back at him, he knew Erik said the truth and for once he was right and there was no disagreeing with that.

"But now we know where that choice leads, don't we? She's going to murder Trask, they're going to capture her, and then they're going to wipe us out," Charles said, almost in a whisper.

"Not if we get to her first. Not if we change history tomorrow," Erik paused, looking into his old friend's eyes. "I'm sorry, Charles," he finally admitted, his voice taking a much more gentle tone. "For what happened. I truly am,"

I knew Erik wasn't talking about Cuba, I could feel it very clearly that he had no remorse for what had happened with Shaw or turning the missiles on the humans. The only exception to his remorselessness was curving the bullet into Charles' spine. Charles closed his eyes and sat back in his seat, pursing his lips together and shaking his head. He clearly didn't receive the apology as well as I thought he would before downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass.

"It's been awhile since I've played," Charles started, clearing his throat.

"I'll go easy on you," Erik teased before he picked up his own drink. "Might finally be a fair fight," he took a drink and Charles almost smiled, but it was gone just as fast as it came.

"You have the first move,"

Erik looked down and moved the first piece with his magnetism and looked up at his old friend for his move. A few minutes passed in comfortable silence and I started to feel my eyes finally become heavy.

"It's amazing isn't it? A decade has passed, and she still looks the same." Erik stated, causing my eyes to snap open. "Seeing Claudia yesterday, I almost thought I went back in time," he laughed lightly.

"Well Claudia may look the same, but she's different now," Charles pointed out. "She is harsher, more closed off," he commented, as I felt two pairs of eyes on my back.

"Sounds like the Claudia we met in 1962," Erik chuckled, shaking his head. "She's always had a sharp tongue," he recalled, before making his move.

"Yes, but...I don't remember it being so venomous," Charles responded, bringing his eyes back to the game in front of him.

What happened between you and Claudia?" Erik questioned softly, Charles looked at him and shrugged.

"I drove her way, I was quite the miserable person to be around," Charles explained honestly. "I said terrible things to Claudia, I honestly don't know how she stayed as long as she did," he added, running a hand through his hair.

Erik looked at him, "I envied you for a long time because of Claudia," he confessed. "I was angry that she didn't come with me after all the moments we shared together at the mansion," Erik continued, making Charles flinch slightly, I could tell he didn't really feel comfortable talking about this with Erik. "But she made the right choice in the end, God knows what might've happened to her if she followed me." Erik finished, and took a sip off his drink.

Charles shook his head, "I just don't understand how Claudia forgave you so easily," he said, knitting his brows together.

Erik laughed breathlessly, "The stinging smack she gave me earlier would say otherwise," he stated, placing his glass down. "Can't say that I didn't deserve it though," Erik shrugged. "I don't think Claudia has forgiven me," he disagreed, now shaking his head as well. "But Charles, I'm also not the man who broke her heart," he pointed out.

~~~x~~~

My eyes fluttered opened from a surprisingly good night's rest, looking out the airplane window I noticed it was still dark. It must of been early the morning. I shifted myself in my seat, stretching my arms to the side as I did so before rising my feet. Carefully, I grabbed my suitcase from the overhead compartment and placed it on the table, grabbing everything that I needed before sliding it back into the cupboard. I walked to the small bathroom with a fresh set of clothes on my arm and quietly closed the door behind me.

I slipped on my tan wide flare pants and red sleeveless top before focusing on my hair. Turning on the sink faucet, I wet my hair and combed it back to a low bun. I leave from the bathroom and make my way back to my seat and began setting up my makeshift vanity area. With everything neatly laid out in front of me, I reached my hand out and plucked my eye shadow palette and brush from the table and began my work.

The low of the plane engine was the only thing that could be heard throughout the cabin as I gently moved the brush over my eyelids. Once I was done I picked up a cotton ball and dabbed a bit of makeup remover on the cotton before carefully applying it to my face to remove the excess eye shadow. As I concentrated on my task I suddenly felt a presence near me, but unless they were going to say something I was going to keep working on my makeup.

"I know you weren't asleep last night," Erik stated, as I unscrewed the cap to my mascara.

Momentarily, I didn't speak as I curled my eyelashes carefully, creating the perfect shape I was looking for.

"I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about," I replied, not looking up at him, my gaze intent on the small portable mirror in front of me.

My brown eyes were highlighted by the charcoal grey eye shadow I just put on, bringing out the warmth in my irises.

"Don't play dumb Claudia, it doesn't suit you," Erik commented.

Realizing that Erik wasn't budging from his spot next to me, I looked away from my reflection, my eyes glancing up at him to see that he was looming over me like a tower.

"You're right," I agreed, shrugging my shoulders. "I was awake last night," I admitted. "You've caught me," I said sarcastically, raising my hands in mock surrender.

I turned my head back to my mirror and grabbed my eyeliner, lifting it to begin tracing the edges of my eye.

Erik shook his head, "Is that all you're going to say?" he questioned, taking a seat across from me.

I paused in my movement, "What did you want me to say?" I asked back, in utter confusion. "Did you want me to play cat and mouse?" I guessed, letting out a chuckle as I drew the eyeliner pencil across my eyelid, carefully forming a sharp point at the corner of my eye.

"That's what you usually do isn't it? Erik questioned, with a wry grin.

Ignoring him, I picked up my lipstick to the right of me and pulled the cap off before twisting the bottom of it to push the stick up higher. I looked back into the mirror and started carefully applying the nude lipstick

"Erik, what do you want?" I asked bluntly, before rubbing my lips together.

"I want to apologize," Erik answered, and I paused in my movements. "For yesterday," he added. "You're right, I don't know what you went through," Erik conceded, his eyes shining with sincerity.

I looked to the man in front of me, "Erik Lehnsherr apologizing?" I questioned, lifting my eyebrow. "Why a lightning bolt might strike us down right now," I joked, packing away my makeup kit and brushes. A pulse of slight irritation struck me, causing me to stop what I was doing. "Apology accepted Erik," I stated, looking at him and continuing what I was doing. "Now was that all you wanted to talk about?" I inquired, inspecting one of my brushes.

"Can I not just speak to an old friend?" Erik asked, slightly tilting his head.

A light laugh erupted from me, "It's been a decade since we last seen or spoken to each other and you still call me a friend? " I stated, propping my elbows up on the table and resting my head on top of my hands.

"We can hardly call ourselves strangers. You and I, we know to much about each other," Erik quipped, a smile tugging on his lips.

I breathed out a chuckle, "Alright, so speak," I instructed, jutting my chin out.

"Seeing you yesterday...it made me think about our time together at the mansion," Erik began, a faint smile on his lips. "And it reminded me what bothered me the most about you," he stated.

"That I was a smartass?" I guessed, raising a brow.

"You still are," Erik pointed out, and I grinned. "It was that you were scared of what you are capable of,” he recalled, shaking his head. "And here we are a decade later and you are in complete control of your abilities, and unafraid to use them to their fullest extent," Erik observed.

My smile slightly vanished and I looked over my shoulder to see Charles' sleeping form, thinking back to what he said yesterday.

I returned my gaze toward Erik, "Much to Charles' displeasure," I commented, slightly chuckling.

"After you left Charles, where did you go? What did you do?" Erik asked. "If you don't mind me asking?" he added quickly.

"To be honest, I was slightly lost after I left him," I admitted, lifting my head off my hands so I could rub my arms. "Charles, he was supposed to be different than the men I had known," I sighed, closing my eyes briefly. "I poured my heart into that relationship, just for it to end like all my past ones," I stated, a humorless chuckle escaping my lips.

Erik stared at me with something akin to pity, "Claudia I'm-" he started.

Lazily, I waved my hand, "Please, don't pity me, Erik," I stated, shaking my head. "When I left Charles...I don't know something...something just snapped within me and I stopped caring," I explained, my eyes moving downward to the table. "I remember how Charles would always stress on how I should use my abilities responsibly, but to hell with him," I continued, glancing up at Erik again. "The world has never been kind to me, I didn't owe them anything," I said, slightly shrugging my shoulders.

"So, what did you do?"

"I traveled the world like I always wanted to do," I answered, a smile forming as I thought back to those days. "Each country I visited I had a new identity, a new look. I had all sorts of fun with my abilities in Europe now that I was uninhibited, it was even better when I met fellow mutants who liked causing mischief," I laughed softly, remembering when I was in Barcelona with a group of mutants and I convinced some rich man to take us on a night out in the city to the most expensive places, of course it was on his dime.

"I'm assuming you enjoyed yourself?" Erik questioned, with a knowing look.

I reached both of my hands out for Erik to take. He glanced down at them before looking up back at me and I gave him a nod. Softly, he placed his hands in mine and I looked at him.

"Erik," I began, an airy laugh escaping me. "I'd never felt freer in my life," I confessed, smiling brightly. "It was everything you wanted for me, to not limit myself. I have learned so much more about my abilities," I stated, still smiling.

"You finally decided to listen to my advice?" Erik asked, grinning himself.

"I'll admit, there were some wisdom to your words," I chuckled, nodding my head. "It just took some time for me to see it,” I stated, slightly shrugging.

"I truly just wanted the best for you Claudia," Erik said softly, squeezing my hands gently.

"I know, I see that now," I replied, nodding my head understandingly. "But you have to realize that I was going to be wary, I've heard the same sentiment before," I reminded.

"I know," Erik repeated gently.

A long silence fell over us and once again the only sound that could be heard was the rumbling of the engine. I slipped my hands from Erik's, my lips quirking up into a quick smile.

"Well enough about me, what about you Erik?" I asked, placing my hands in my lap.

Erik arched his brow, "I've been locked up,” he answered flatly.

"Okay, before that then." I clarified, rolling my eyes.

"Where do I begin?" Erik asked, rubbing his neck.

I lifted my arm up and reached over the table, to softly stroke Erik's dark brown hair. "How about this cut?" I joked, leaning back in my seat. "I liked it longer." I commented, and Erik let out a snort, dropping his head in laughter.

"Oh, how I missed this old friend,"

Chapter Ten: Pandemonium in Paris

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 2 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 3 / 4 / 5 

_____________________________________________________

~Nesta~

The day after meeting my fiancé, I drop Alexei off at the plane, tell him goodbye, and drive further down the tarmac to where Cassian’s waiting in a completely different private plane.

Very environmentally conscious, our lifestyle

The stairs are unfolded, so after making sure my luggage is transferred over, I head inside.

Cassian’s waiting, sipping bourbon despite the fact that it’s nine in the morning.

He’s dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve t-shirt that makes the tattoos on his hands and knuckles seem even more pronounced. He seems more comfortable now than yesterday.

Like he’s not trying to fit into the mold of a respectable gentleman in a suit.

He looks over as my heels click against the floor, eyes dragging up my legs, pausing at my chest, and scanning my face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t know what else to say.

My lips twitch as I slide into the seat across from him, staying silent for now to throw him off.

As expected, he shifts in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable.

Then, like he realizes what I’m doing, he narrows his eyes. “You realize that a woman who just sits there, looks pretty, and doesn’t argue is pretty much a man’s dream, right?”

A smile tugs at my lips, but I sigh like I’m not the least bit amused. “Good morning, Cassian.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to determine the proper response for such a ground-breaking conversation opener.

He finally decides on: “You don’t have an accent.”

“Not when I speak English.”

Alexei, the hypocritical bastard, said English should sound like English and Russian should sound like Russian.

“Do you speak any other languages?” he asks, apparently not having looked in my file. He’s probably trying to figure out if his secret conversations with his fellow countrymen are safe.

“I speak Italian, since that’s what you really want to know.”

He grins, playful light in his eyes. “I think I’d like to hear that.”

An amused laugh escapes me at that, but I give him what he wants as I murmur, “Sono sicuro che lo faresti.” I’m sure you would.

His eyes seem to darken, and I roll my eyes. Men.

“I speak a little Russian, but not much,” he tells me. Considering I, unlike him, I did my homework, I already knew that.

Done with this conversation, I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. A plan that goes out the window when Cassian says confidently, “I usually only speak Italian when I fuck.”

I know he’s trying to feel me out, get a rise out of me, so I keep my voice completely deadpan as I reply, “Interesting. I tend to choose French.”

He laughs, face splitting into a humongous, goofy-looking grin. “Now that, I can’t wait to hear.”

Ah, yes. Because the idea I won’t sleep with him is unthinkable.

To me, too, but at least I’m not an asshole about it. Time to humble him a bit.

I feign like I’m not attracted to him in the slightest as I make a show of looking him over. “I never said you would, tupitsa.”

Before he can respond to me calling him a dumbass, I close my eyes and go to sleep.

~Cassian~

My fiancé passes out in a matter of seconds. It’s a little impressive, honestly. One second she’s teasing me with the thought of French whispers under silk sheets, the next she’s dead to the world.

I, unfortunately, am stuck on the first part.

Fuck, she’s hot.

It’s an effortless sort of beauty, considering she isn’t wearing makeup and her hair appears to be naturally blonde and straight.

Regardless, she looks like she just stepped off a runway.

Delicate bone structure, fierce eyes, full lips that sounded so good saying my name it took me a moment to formulate a response.

Distracting curves, sweeping hips, long legs that are currently crossed and allowing the slightest hint of lace at the top of her stocking to show.

My dick takes notice of that site, and I remind the greedy bastard she’s a Russian--an enemy--but he doesn’t seem to care. Nope, he wants me to peel those stockings down. With my teeth.

What’s somehow hotter than even her choice of legwear is the fact that she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s completely relaxed, asleep for God’s sake, not trying to seduce me.

I grit my teeth and look out the window.

Like every other time I fly, I get restless after about ten minutes. I pull out my phone and make sure everything’s ready for when we land, work on my laptop for a bit, stare at Nesta sleeping for a longer bit, and pace the aisle like a caged lion when I start to feel like a creep.

Because I’ve been dealing with administrative shit like getting engaged, it’s been a while since I’ve done something to quell the rush in my blood.

Business, surprisingly, is boring when an army of hateful Russians isn’t trying to kill you all the time. I haven’t fought in days, haven’t shot my gun in longer.

I send Ricardo a text and have him set up a fight for tonight, but even the thought of the coming violence does nothing to help me calm down.

By the time we land, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this plane.

Nesta wakes up when the wheels touch down, stretching and looking annoyingly well rested.

As the plane taxis, I tell her, “I have to work tonight.”

It’s a lie, and she cocks her eyebrow like she knows it. But she doesn’t call me on it, doesn’t even seem that interested. “I already requested a separate car.”

My brows furrow because I hate being predictable, but I keep my mouth shut.

Nesta stands as the stairs drop open, straightening her dress and pulling it down over the lacey top of her stockings that are now right in front of my face.

Before I even realize what she’s about, there’s a sharp smack to the bottom of my chin that forces my head up. She tsks, shaking her head teasingly.

“What was that for?” I ask, even though I already know.

She grabs her bag, and I follow as she walks down to the tarmac. “Somnophilia.”

I take a second to look up what the hell that is, laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes when I find the definition. Nesta shakes her head, small smile on those distracting lips, and walks to her waiting driver.

“I’ll see you at home, wife,” I call, not able to resist.

She just flips me the bird over her shoulder, making me laugh again.

Like I said, not what I was expecting.

~Nesta~

Things with Cassian are going... well, I guess.

He has the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old boy, but he isn’t terrible. As long as he stays out of my way, I dare say this marriage might work.

He’ll go about his business, I’ll go about mine, and we’ll avoid each other for happily ever after just like the fairytales say.

I shake my head as Maxim, one of the first New York transplants, navigates us through the city and to Sera. I’ve visited all my clubs at least once, and I have to admit, this one is by far my favorite.

As it should be.

The other three I run in New York were all my father’s originally. Built by a man, for the entertainment of men, I have to say they aren’t places I’d visit myself.

But I built Sera from the ground up, and while it’s designed to appeal to both men and women, men are--for the first time in history--not the priority.

The building it’s located in is a skyscraper, one I rent out to different businesses that don’t need an entire place to themselves. The ground floor is a bank, one that discretely cleans Russian money and makes us more through interest.

All in all, an unremarkable location to the public eye.

But every night, after normal banking hours have long passed, a select number of guests are invited to Sera--a speakeasy-type burlesque club with a hidden entrance in the secondary vault of the bank.

It’s secret, exclusive, and private as hell.

When we get to the bank, I enter the passcode on the side door--changed nightly--and walk through the silent lobby to the back room where the bouncer sits on a wooden stool.

“Privet, boss,” the burly man greets, sweeping the door open and ushering me through with a meaty hand. “Man in the back is asking for the owner.”

I nod and step inside, the door immediately closing behind me.

It’s the perfect level of crowded; enough people that no one stands out but not packed to the point of misery. By design, of course.

Everything seems to be the same as when I visited a few months ago except for the changed flooring I had installed last week. The tables and booths in the back are full of people captivated by the jazz singer on stage, a woman I discovered while walking to a business meeting in Paris.

Her cigarette-roughened voice had pulled me in, much like it does the audience now, and I’d offered her a job on the spot.

One of the bartenders, an ex-con who was locked up for stealing insulin for his diabetic daughter, smiles at me and slides me a tumblr of vodka as I make my way over.

“Good to see you,” Dima greets warmly. “How long are you here for?”

“Permanently.”

His eyebrows shoot up, which makes sense, considering the engagement hasn’t been announced properly. We’re apparently having a party of some kind in two weeks to celebrate the big news.

“I’ll explain later,” I tell him, noticing a group of people approaching the bar.

He nods, and I slip away towards the back corner where a roped-off set of stairs lead down to the basement below.

Like usual, there’s a private poker game happening in the main room of the bottom floor, and I stop to make say a few hellos but eventually move on to the hallway containing offices for some of the management.

The soldier stationed at the door to mine nods in acknowledgement, then tells me a whale’s inside.

My brows raise at the idea of a big-time investor coming to see me at this hour, but I shrug and walk in, shoulders back and face blank. I learned a long time ago to never let my emotions play out on my face.

The man waiting inside looks to be in his forties, richer than sin, and cold. Mafia, undoubtedly. His dark eyes rake over me, and he asks in a tone I don’t appreciate, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Nesta Orlov. You requested to speak to me?”

His bushy brows pinch together. “No, I want to speak to the owner.”

“One and the same.”

“I was told Cassian Azara is the owner.”

My jaw clenches at the thought that we’ve been engaged for less than two days and people already assume my shit is his. “By who?” I ask, remembering our upcoming nuptials aren’t even public news yet.

“My Capo.”

That gets my attention.

Rhysand’s telling people my club is Cassian’s? Why?

Something isn’t right.

I might not know the Italian boss, but I’ve heard he’s straightforward. Ruthless but honest. So why would he lie?

A little voice inside my head whispers, What if he isn’t?

Mind whirling, I turn to the man and smile politely even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Would you mind giving me a moment? If you go upstairs, our bartender will get you anything you want, on the house.”

He shrugs and leaves, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I go to my desk and pull up the electronic copy of our marriage contract.

Like I thought, nothing’s amiss.

I read this shit thoroughly enough to know exactly what I was getting into, and in case I missed anything, I had my private lawyer scan over it.

But that little voice, that gut feeling, refuses to go away. So I grab my bag and look through the physical copy, dread unfurling when I notice an extra page tucked in the middle.

It’s a prenup.

One I’ve never seen.

And there, smack dab in the middle, is a line declaring the deed to Sera the property of Cassian Azara.

A rough breath forces its way out of me, and for a second, I’m so angry, so blind with rage, I can’t hardly think. What the hell is going on?

I force myself to think through this, to rationalize what I’m seeing.

Replaying the moment in the Capo’s office, I realize the switch between the original and this version of the contract must’ve happened prior. I was only in there a few minutes and had the papers in my hand the whole time.

Which means...

Alexei picks up on the first ring, like he was waiting for the call. “Da.”

“What the hell have you done?”

He sighs. “What needed doing.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wasn’t the one who started a goddamn war with the Italians, and yet I’m the one who’s paying all the prices. I’m marrying the bastard, for fuck’s sake. Give him one of your clubs.”

His tone hardens. “He didn’t want anything else.”

“I don’t give a shit! This place is my property. It isn’t yours to give away.” I take a deep breath and try to quiet the rushing in my veins. “That idiot will run it into the ground.”

There’s a long moment, and I swear he sounds a little guilty as he says calmly, “He has more than a few businesses of his own, Nesta. It will be fine.”

I pinch my lips together to keep from cursing the man who raised me.

“If you read the document,” he says, a strange note to his voice. “You’ll notice there are a number of clauses.”

My eyes scan to the bottom of the page, and I read as Alexei continues. “He is permitted from selling, unless to you. The investors have the option to vote him out at any time. And if he is unfaithful to you or ends the engagement for whatever reason, Sera is returned to you in full.”

All the violence, all the rage, seems to dim. Just a little.

This is so like Alexei; in fact, it was one of his first lessons to me.

Give someone the illusion of winning, and they’ll sign anything you want them to.

I read through the clauses again, lips twitching. “Let me get this straight. If I can prove Cassian Azara--notorious playboy of New York--is cheating on me, the club is mine? And if the board at Sera votes him out, he can’t fight it?”

I can practically hear my father’s smile. “Da.”

“Or if I drive him crazy and he ends the engagement?”

“Da.”

Sounds easy enough. I drive Alexei absolutely insane and have never had a long-term relationship. I’ll have him running for the hills in no time.

One thing doesn’t make sense, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign. It’s still a risk, even with the clauses” He takes a deep breath. “I never told you, but we were losing the war in New York. We would’ve lasted another year, and then we would’ve lost the city.”

“Alexei-”

“I need this alliance to hold, Volchonok,” he says. “And either of you calling off the engagement or divorcing the other is grounds for the war to start back up.”

“So you’re saying I still need to marry him.”

He gruffs a confirmation, and my brain whirls as it thinks of a new plan.

My options are down to three: have him sell to me, prove he’s cheating, or get the board to vote him out.

“One more thing. You only have until the wedding. Once you’re married, the only way to get your property back is if he signs the deed to you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, moving my timeline up by a factor of a hundred. Checking the calendar proves what I already know: I have less than thirty days to somehow convince one of the most notoriously stubborn men in the world to give me a multi-million dollar company.

Easy.

“I’m... sorry. For lying.”

I’m so shocked he just apologized--something he’s never done in my twenty-five years of life--it takes me a moment to respond and tell him he’s forgiven. “Ty proshchen, otets.”

I disconnect the call and swivel around in the chair, a smile pulling on my lips.

I’m going to drive him fucking crazy. All while I make him fall in love with me.

Oh, Cassian. I almost feel sorry for you.

_______________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

[lokis-army-77]

If You Please

Chapter five

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3436

I'm bad at writing descriptions, so this is basically a reader insert into The First Avenger and then we'll see how it goes from there.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of blood

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Masterlist

I hadn't seen Steve since the talk with Dr. Erskine yesterday afternoon. I knew that after the conversation we all had, he would know what he was meant to do. He would go into this with no questions whatsoever, just the knowledge that he would be able to help out with the war. I on the other hand was worried to death. That night I got less sleep than I ever had. I tossed and turned, but could never get comfortable. There's just something about knowing you and your brother are going to be test subjects for an experiment that hasn't had the best track record, that puts you on edge.

I did everything to try and go to sleep, but none of it helped in the slightest. When I laid there, in the dark, facing the ceiling, I thought of what life would have been like if this God-forsaken war hadn't started. Thoughts of a wedding crossed my mind. Steve walked me down the aisle towards the love of my life. If we hadn't been drugged into this war I could have been married by now, I could have started a family, I could be enjoying the rest of my life with Bucky by my side. But life never goes as planned and now Buck is thousands of miles away and I’m being experimented on.

Not just thoughts of a domestic life flew around in my head, I also thought of how this serum would affect Steve and me I. Helping to work on this experiment was one thing, being a part of it was another. All I had done for the last few years was help gather information for the doctors and scientists. I scouted recruits, I spied on copious amounts of HYDRA workers, I was a behind the scene worker, never in the spotlight of the actual experimental side. Now all that had changed and I would be participating in something I wasn’t really sure I wanted. There was no knowing what this would do to me, what the long-term and short-term effects might be, but I was willing to go through this as long as my brother was beside me. I couldn't just let him do it alone, even if this probably wasn't what I wanted for myself. From before I could remember Steve was always there with me, walking right alongside me through my battles, and I’d be damned if I didn't walk into this battle with him.

In the early morning hours, when the first birds started to chirp and the sun had barely shown itself to the world, I fell asleep, only to be awakened two hours later. The day had just begun and I already wanted to go back to sleep, I could feel the anxiety creeping back in. Without a good night's rest, I was useless. The procedure was scheduled for nine this morning and I had to be at the lab in an hour. I quickly got ready and headed out the door. When I walked down onto the street I noticed a car a few yards away from me. Peggy stepped out of the back and waved me over.

“Good morning, Agent Carter,” I called as I walked over to where she stood. I looked into the back seat and noticed Steve was sitting on the other side of the car. He looked at me and gave me a small wave. “You didn’t have to come pick me up, the lab is only two blocks away, I could have walked there.”

“Don't worry about it Rogers, It was your brother's idea to come get you. He said something about anxiety and operations. Said it would be best to come get you so he could help ease the nerves.” She said before she ushered me into the back seat and closed the door. She then walked around the car and got into the passenger seat.

“Morning shortly, don’t you look chipper this morning,” Steve stated as I slumped in the seat.

I slowly looked over at him and groaned out “I can’t believe you told her I get anxious about operations and needed your help to calm down.”

“Oh you know you need me, I can tell you only got a few hours of sleep. I bet you were up all night tossing and turning,” he stated matter of factly. He grabbed my right arm and pulled me over to him so he could give me a hug. I laid my head on his shoulder and watched as the car made its way down the block. “You’ve always needed someone to help you get over the anxiousness before any type of medical type thing. Now just sit here and calm down, I can hear how fast your heart is going.”

He wasn’t lying, any medical thing I have ever gone to has made me stressed out. Even just going into the doctor's office to get a prescription filled me with enough anxiety to explode. I could feel my heart beating a mile a minute the closer we got to the building the lab was in. Having Steve with me was easing it to a bearable amount but I still felt nauseous. When the car stopped outside of an old antique store we all got out and walked into the shop. I barely noticed Peggy reciting the code phrase to the woman at the front, then we were on our way to the back and going through a set of hidden doors. I grabbed Steve's hand and held onto it so tightly that I’m sure he could feel my pulse throbbing in my fingers. We made our way past several MPs to the observing deck of the lab and looked down at the several scientists in the room. They all spotted us quickly and came to a stop. I looked over at Steve and he looked at me, a quick glint of concern flashed over his face. I then looked to Peggy and she gave a stiff nod and started to descend the set of stairs to her right and Steve and I followed.

We three made our way to the platform in the middle of the room where Dr. Erskine met us. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully while he shook Steve’s hand and then mine. “Are you both ready?” I nodded my head nervously while eyeing the two large equipment pieces that were side by side. I winced as a sudden flash went off. A man, standing off to the side, had taken a picture of the encounter. Dr. Ersikne has shooed him off as soon as he had, telling him not to do that now. “Well, if you are both ready I will need you two to take your shoes, tie, and shirts off. Mr. Rogers, please take your cap off as well. Agent Rogers, I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable, we need to be able to access your biceps and the top of your chest.”

I slowly started to take my shoes off, then moved onto my tie and then my blazer and blouse. All I could think of at the moment was that this was all happening way too fast. The nervousness and anxiety I felt heavily outweigh the embarrassment I should have felt, being in a large room surrounded by men in only my bra and a pair of trousers. I was then told to then lay down on one of the machines in the center of the room.

“Agent Rogers, These are just some questions I have to ask before we get started,” said a nurse who had appeared next to me with a clipboard. “Is your date of birth August 3, 1921?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink in the last 12 hours?”

“No, I have not”

“Okay then, we're good to go. I’ll just give you a shot of penicillin and then Dr. Erskine will come and start the procedure. As I laid there all I could hear was my heart beating in my ears. I watched as another nurse came to me and brought down two metal arms with rectangular pads attached to the end. They went right to the top of my chest and felt cold against my exposed skin. More nurses walked around me and starters putting vials of blue liquid into slots in the machine.

Dr. Erskine then appeared between Steve and me. Nodding at both of us he started the count down to the serum infusion. I saw another two rectangular pads come down towards my upper arms. I winced as I felt the needles on the pads insert into my arm. When the count down reached one I felt the serum being pushed into me through the rectangular pads. I gasped loudly, it was an unexplainable pain, Ilke fire was surging throughout my entire body. Then the machine started to rise and three panels with lots of lights came up and closed around me. I was taking deep breaths in order to not hyperventilate. Then came a tap on the glass that was right in front of my head. “Agent Rogers, are you ready?” Dr. Erskine called.

“As ready as I can be” I called back. He walked away from the glass and then the machine started to make a low rumbling sound. I closed my eyes and balled my hands uptight. The lights on the panels started to glow brighter and brighter through my eyelids. Soon the lights began to emit heat. I could feel it growing hotter and hotter until finally, I couldn't keep the feeling of the pain inside anymore. I felt my throat scratch as I let out a scream. The heat kept intensifying but I held on.

I could hear yelling from outside the machine. “Turn it off! Turn it off! Shut it down now!” someone was yelling.

I had come so far I couldn’t stop now. “No,” I yelled, “I can do it. Keep it on!” The light then became so bright it was like my eyes weren't even close like I was staring at the sun. The rumbling in my ears became overwhelming and I let out another scream. Suddenly everything went dark and the heat was gone. My breathing became labored and I let my body relax back onto the cushion behind me. The panels retracted and a gust of cold air surrounded me.

I could hear a ringing in my ears as I weakly stepped out of the machine. A few nurses and scientists caught me before my legs gave out. “Did we do it?” I stuttered out.

“I think we did. How are you feeling?” asked Dr. Erskine while handing me a shirt.

“Sweaty. Where’s Steve?” I looked around for him but the room started to fill with more people. Out of nowhere a loud bang when off and glass shot everywhere. I fell to the ground and heard gunshots ring out. Looking up I saw Dr. Erskine fall to the ground. I scrambled over to him and noticed another person bend down across from me on his opposite side. It was Steve, albeit he was a taller and more muscular Steve. I quickly refocused on the Doctor in my arms. He was struggling to breathe and as he took his last breath he pointed to Steve's heart and then went limp. I looked back up to Steve and watched as his face contorted in anger. He shot up from his squatted-down position and took off up the stairs and into the hallway. I followed suit yelling his name.

I reached the front door to the antique shop right as Steve tackled Peggy to the ground to save her from a cab almost running over her. “I had him,” she yelled at him.

“Sorry,” He called back. He started to run in the direction the cab had gone and I took off right behind him. Running down the street, I had noticed that I was running faster than I could before, I was catching up to Steve and the cab.

I saw the cab start to turn and I yelled out to Steve. “Steve, he's headed for the docks!” I kept running and took a sharp turn down the next alleyway. I hoped I would catch them before they go too far. After running straight to the docks I spotted the cab, with Steve hanging off the side of the door, hit a truck, and started rolling down the street sideways. I ran to where Steve had fallen when he let go of the door. I helped him to his feet while eyeing the man who emerged from the wrecked cab. He pulled a gun and shot at both of us before running onto pier 13. Steve grabbed the broken off door from the cab and averted to follow the gunman when he shot at us again. The man grabbed a nearby child and put the gun to his head.

“Get back” he yelled, “get back or I’ll shoot him.” He dragged the kid over to a small ally. I could hear the kid yelling to the man to let him go. Steve started to go after him, but before he could, I stopped him.

“Steve we have to think carefully about this. We can't go in blind, he might hurt the boy.”

“You're right. You go around the back and I’ll take him from the front. I’ll draw the fire and you get the kid.” I gave a quick nod and scurried off to the back entrance of the building. I snuck around the corners to keep from being seen and soon found myself behind the man and child. Steve rounded the corner and the man put the gun back to the boy's head. “Stop, don’t do it,” Steve called. The man then pointed the gun at Steve and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened, He was all out of bullets. In what was a last-ditch effort he tossed the boy over the side of the dock and into the water. I quickly dove in after him.

Coming up out of the water I spotted the boy treading water close to the wall. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, spitting out water. Steve then ran over to look over into the water at us, the boy waved him on. “Go get him, I can swim,” he called up at him. I gave Steve a look and he sprinted off after the gunman.

“Come on kid, let's get you out of here.” I swam over towards him and led us to one of the recessed wall ladders. I helped him climb up the steep wall and when we both made it onto the solid ground I helped him ring out his clothes. “Go on and find your mother, I have to go help stop that man.” He quickly ran off and I turned to sprint down the pier to find Steve.

I couldn’t find either Steve or the gunman when I made it to the end of the dock. I knew they had gone into the water, there was no other way off. I watched the water waiting to see signs of either of them. Then unexpectedly the gunman was thrown out of the water and at my feet. I bent down quickly and grand at the lapels of his jacket, knocking the vile of serum from his pocket. Steve climbed out of the water and came to my side. “Who the hell are you?” he yelled at the man.

The gunman responded with “The first of many. Cut off one head and two more will take its place. Hail Hydra.” After he promptly bit down on a cyanide pill and died. I looked to Steve with a shocked expression.

“Shit. This isn’t good,” I mumbled.

After the whole chase, Steve and I were brought back to the lab. Blood work had to be done. Since all the serum, with the exception of the vile the gunman had stolen, had been used on the two of us, the only way to recreate the serum and possibly keep project rebirth going was in our blood. Peggy explained all of this to Steve as they finished drawing several vile of his blood.

“He deserved more than this,” commented Steve. Peggy looked to him with soft eyes.

“He’d be proud that you're the one it worked on, he’d be proud of both of you,” She affirmed.

“Thanks, Peg,” I said as I lifted myself up off the cot and headed to the door. She and Steve followed. We made our way to the bottom floor where Howard Stark was working on the small submarine the gunman used to try and escape. Colonel Phillips stood a few feet away from him with Senator Brandt. I overheard them talking of Hydra, but before I could explain to the senator who they were, Peggy beat me to it.

Colonel Phillips turned to us, “I have word that the SSR is being retasked. Pack your bags Agent Carter, Agent Rogers, You too Stark. We will be flying out to London tonight.”

“Sir?” Steve called out. “If you’re going after hydra, I want in.”

“You’re an experiment Rogers, you’re being sent to Alamogordo.” The Coronel asserted.

“But Coronel the serum worked, I can help.”

“Son, I asked for an army and all I got was you and your sister. You both aren't enough, at least Agent Rogers was on this team before the experiment happened.” the Colonel started to walk away again, but stopped when I called out to him.

“With all due respect Sir. I refuse to go anywhere without Steve. Either I go with him or he comes with me. I won't take no for an answer Sir.” The look he gave me could have killed but I couldn't care less.

“Agent Rogers, You better be on that plane by the time it takes off or you can kiss this job goodbye. Rogers can’t come with you either, I won't allow it.” He commanded and stormed out of the room.

The Senator spoke up then. “I think the Coronel here is missing the point. I've seen you in action, Steve. The country has seen it too. See here,” He hands Steve a newspaper, “The enlistment lines have been around the block since you came out in the paper. The people need a symbol, and you don't put a symbol in a lab.” He took Steve by the arm and led him off a few feet, but I could still hear him. “Would you like to serve your country on the most important battlefield of all?”

“Sir, that's all I have ever wanted to do,” Steve says.

“Well then son, you’ve just been promoted.” Said the Senator as he shook Steve's hand. I could already tell this wasn’t going to go the way Steve thought it would.

“Steve, Come here a second,” I called and walked over to a secluded corner of the room. I waited for him to come to me. “Steve, he's not going to give you the fight you want to be a part of. I wouldn’t take his offer,” I warned.

“It’s okay, I want to be a part of this fight in any way I can. You shouldn’t stay behind because of me. You have important work you need to do, go with the Coronel and Agent Carter.” Steve said, almost sounding like he was begging me to go with them.

“I said I wasn’t going without you. I don’t want you to do this alone, we’ve always had each other, why stop now?”

“Kid, I know you want to be here with me, to give me your support, but you have an important job. People are relying on you, you can't just do that job because of me. I’ll be fine, look at me, I’m not some sickly kid from Brooklyn anymore.”

“You know, I hate when you’re right.” I crossed my arms and huffed. “Fine, I’ll go with them, just know I will not enjoy a moment of this.”

“Thank you.” he pulled me into a strong hug.

“One more thing. How come you got taller and really buff? I just got more defined muscles, that's not fair.” I complained and he just laughed and shook his head.

“Go pack your bags kid, I'll see you soon.” He gave me a small push towards the door and just like that I was off to the war front.

Taglist: @underc0vercryptid-reads

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (6)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

Not gonna lie, this is a bit of a filler chapter. But the NEXT chapter...that’s the one you’ve all been waiting for. Also, I’ve had “bad guy” by Billie Eilish stuck in my head for DAYS, so that’s the song playing during the runway show. 

*****

A week after the job at the director’s house, Riley sank into her first-class airplane seat and immediately opened her laptop, the tan pleather chair squeaking slightly as she crossed her legs beneath her. Dimming the brightness, Riley angled her laptop so no one could see it but her. She’d been profiled plenty of times in the past while writing perfectly benevolent code. Riley certainly didn’t need anyone catching her working on something more nefarious. 

If she did this right, then she’d be able to just connect her phone to whatever Louvre computer that controlled security and be free to do whatever she wanted. 

If she didn’t...she’d need to brush up on her French. 

Nikki dozed in the seat beside her. She’d been bouncing off the walls all morning in anticipation of getting to see Fashion Week in person after Riley had promised to go with her to as many fashion shows as they could sneak into. Nikki’s excitement was infectious. While the priority was to see the runway show of the designer whose Louvre afterparty they were crashing, before they boarded the flight, Riley found herself sifting through fashion blogs to determine which other shows she wanted to see. All couture, of course. 

Across the aisle, Jill had her nose buried in an incredibly thick book Riley couldn’t see the cover of, and behind her, Cage and Desi curled together like a human pretzel as they watched a movie. They were disgustingly happy, and that made Riley happy too. 

When they were somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic, Nikki awoke, grumbling, “You’re going to ruin your eyes if you stare at that screen any longer.” She was right. Riley’s vision had started to blur at the edges hours ago, and she knew she’d have a hard time focusing on things in the distance when she finally looked up. Riley saved her work and shut her laptop. 

Nikki still hadn’t budged from her awkward curled position, but her eyes were open. Riley figured now was as good of a time as any to make Nikki answer her last lingering question. “So you still haven’t told me why you and your boyfriend broke up,” she probed. “You know, the one who hacks everything else.” 

Nikki sighed, rolling her head to glare at Riley. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine.” Nikki sat up. “When we met, he told me he worked for a government think tank. Really nerdy stuff, does a lot of consulting. I figured he was smart but harmless.” 

“I remember.” 

“That was a lie. He’s a government agent, all right. But not the nerd kind. The double-O-seven kind.” 

Riley nearly choked. “A spy?” she hissed. “You dated a fucking spy?” 

“Surprise.” 

“How did you find out?” 

“The same way he found out about me. I originally told him I was a freelance art appraiser”—not far from the truth, actually— “and the IT job was to help make ends meet. We both bought each others’ lies at first, but over time we both struggled to keep our stories straight. And then one day it all just...fell into place, I guess. We had a massive fight, and by the time the dust settled, I think we both knew there was no going back to how things were before we knew the truth.” 

Riley laced her fingers through Nikki’s, conveying her empathy through touch rather than words. “What agency does he work for?” 

“The Phoenix Foundation.” 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“It’s DXS. The name changed while you were gone.” At least Nikki couldn’t still say the P-word either. But DXS...DXS could move Christmas. If Nikki’s boyfriend told anyone about her real job, they were all in trouble. Big trouble. 

“Think he’s going to come after you? Come after us?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Trying to lighten the mood, Riley said, “Ignoring the part where he knows you’re a criminal, it must’ve been pretty cool to date a real-life black-ops spy. I bet he knew all kinds of tricks.” The innuendo easily rolled off Riley’s tongue. 

Nikki smacked her shoulder. “We were having a nice moment and you had to go and ruin it by being gross. What the fuck, dude?” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Love you too.” And she did. Despite the grudge she may or may not be holding, Riley loved her. She never stopped.

*****

They landed in Paris at night, and the Five Eyes crashed the moment they made it to their swanky, overpriced hotel room. The next day, they bounced around the city attending as many runway shows as traffic allowed. Riley didn’t understand the hubbub and overdone romanticism; Paris was just like any other major city—loud and overcrowded. And snobby. So very snobby. 

On their second day in Paris, the women chose to divide and conquer. Desi, Cage, and Jill teamed up to scope out the Louvre. Riley and Nikki attended the runway show of the designer whose masterpiece they intended to steal. 

As she and Nikki found their seats along the runway, Riley made a mental note of all the exits. Their seats were in the back, against a wall. Nikki hoped for a better view, but Riley liked it better this way. Sitting by a wall, she had something solid behind her and could see everyone come and go without having to turn around. Riley had always kept meticulous tabs on her surroundings—that’s what made her so good at her job—but the fear of not being able to see what’s coming was new. 

She didn’t tell Nikki about it. 

The blonde blended right in with the highly fashionable crowd, wearing a floor-length, gray plaid coat with hot pink lining. Nikki was completely in her element here, and sometimes Riley thought her friend would’ve been better off legitimately pursuing a career in fashion rather than letting Riley drag her into the world of shadows, secrets, and cons. 

While they waited, Riley fidgeted with a button on her black blazer. Her whole outfit was the same shade of her signature color—blouse, blazer, leather leggings. But her boots were the real showstopper—thigh-high black suede with intricate gold embroidery down the entire front. Riley saw them in a window yesterday and had immediately gone inside to purchase them. The boots were outrageously expensive, but it didn’t matter. Riley Davis was already a filthy rich woman, and after this job, she’d have more money than she would ever know what to do with. 

The house music quieted, and the designer—older man, favored his left leg, voice thin and raspy like a smoker—strutted down the runway, microphone in hand, welcoming the audience and beginning the show. He rambled on, ruminating over his inspiration for this collection. Nikki hung on every word. Riley tuned him out. 

So this was the man who was renting out the Louvre. Riley couldn’t even imagine the amount of money and favors it took to secure such an ostentatious party venue. 

What she could imagine, however, was that she’d surely be subjected to yet another one of these long-winded speeches at the afterparty tonight. On the bright side, that would buy her and her team extra time, making the job that much easier. 

The show began with a sweep of the lights as the music dropped to a low, pulsing beat Riley could feel just as much as she could hear. The crowd murmured respectfully as the first model appeared wearing a shiny black gown that looked like a trash bag had been melted to her body with the excess pooling on the floor. She told Nikki as much, earning an eye roll. 

The next gown was better—sheer fabric with countless thin, metallic gold vertical stripes. The skirt had pretty lines, giving the model the illusion of curves she didn’t have. After that was a strapless canary yellow ball gown with a full, pillowy train. 

“I don’t understand why designers keep making yellow clothes,” Riley hissed. “No one looks good in yellow.” 

“That model does.” 

“No one looks good in yellow.” 

Nikki twisted in her seat and glared, which Riley ignored. “Are you going to say anything nice?” 

“You’d miss my commentary if I stopped.” Riley’s snide comment earned her an elbow to the ribs, but she caught Nikki’s smile all the same. 

The next gown was cherry red satin, with huge ruffles on one shoulder and the opposite hip. The extra fabric was a lot, but there was something elegant about the gown nonetheless. 

Leanna would look good in that one, Riley stopped herself from saying aloud. Nikki—nor anyone else, for that matter—hadn’t said another word about Leanna since Riley first asked weeks ago. Suddenly their longtime friend was taboo, and Riley didn’t want to disrupt the tentative peace she had with Nikki just to push for answers she probably wouldn’t get. 

Another ugly gown, this one feathery pink with a sort of netting over top. 

But the last one...the last one caught the eye of every single person in the audience. 

Including Riley. 

The sheer dress was covered in intricate silver beading that accentuated its long sleeves and mermaid silhouette and left little to the imagination. It was the kind of show-stopping gown one wore when they wanted to be the center of attention. 

Despite the audience’s rising hum of approval, Riley still heard Nikki murmur, “That one is all you.” And it was. Riley would wear that gown in a heartbeat if she had the opportunity—too bad most jobs required her to blend in, not stand out. 

She was too busy lusting after the gown to respond. 

From her seat, Riley could just see into the wings, and she spotted who could only be the designer’s assistant, running the show behind the scenes. Even from a distance, Riley had a feeling the young woman’s hawk-like gaze missed absolutely nothing. The designer would be easy enough to bamboozle during the heist, but this woman could very likely become a problem. 

Riley committed the assistant’s appearance to memory and set the thought aside for later.

*****

Later that afternoon, the Five Eyes reconvened in their hotel suite. They still had a couple hours until they needed to get ready for the afterparty. Since only Cage and Nikki had been there before, Desi, Cage, and Jill had spent the day scouting the Louvre. It was good for Jill to work with Desi for a change; because of her military background, Desi’s way of thinking through a job diverged greatly from everyone else’s. 

Team meetings like this were one of Riley’s favorite parts of the job—swapping intel and strategizing the best way to pull off the job. Or the most fun way, which was usually also the riskiest. But tonight, the team was in unspoken agreement that they would play it safe, both because of Jill and the importance of this long-awaited job. 

Piled onto one plush, king-sized bed, the five women sat tangled together as they tore through the box of pastries Riley purchased on the way back to the hotel. For the first time in forever, Riley was hungry. She avoided dwelling on that fact as she licked her fingers and picked up stray crumbs that fell on the off-white comforter. 

“So, what did you learn?” Nikki quizzed Jill. 

Jill pushed up her glasses with her middle finger, speaking with her mouth full. “The room the party will be in is super fancy and at the far corner of the building.” She swallowed. “First floor.” 

“Good. What else?” Riley prompted. “How do Nikki or I get to security and the building’s system control?” 

“There’s an employee door in the hallway…” Jill trailed off. “Wait. This is a test, isn’t it? You already know.” 

Riley smirked. “I do.” 

Disbelief etched Jill’s face. “How? You told me yourself that you’ve never been there!” 

“I have my ways.” Riley would tell her eventually, but for now, it was more fun to lure trade secrets over Jill’s head. She reached for another buttery pastry, selecting one topped with slivered almonds.  

But before Riley could continue her taunting, Desi spoke up. “There’s something you should know.” The mood plummeted into seriousness. 

Riley and Nikki both raised their eyebrows. Go on. 

“Nikki’s ex was at the museum.” 

“Which one?” Nikki asked cautiously. Riley could hear the dread in her tone, the same dread that churned in her own stomach. 

“You know which one.” 

Riley swore. Nikki’s ex, the spy, was at the Louvre. “Did he see you?”

Cage answered, “We have to assume he did. And we also have to assume he recognized Desi and me as Nikki’s friends.” Riley set her pastry down, no longer hungry as the heist of her dreams started to crumble before her eyes. She refused to let that happen. 

“He was with a middle-aged man who definitely had a gun tucked into his belt,” Desi said. “Based on that and his haircut, I’d say he’s probably ex-military.” 

“Mac is too.” Tucking her knees to her chest, Nikki’s voice was uncharacteristically small as she spoke. Defeat wormed its way across her features. Nikki thought they couldn’t pull off the job now, Riley realized. 

No way. She wouldn’t let one stupid ex-boyfriend get in the way of her dream job. And her grossly large payday. 

“It’ll be fine,” Riley reassured. “He knows you’re into fashion, right?” Nikki nodded. “Then he has to assume you’re there for innocent, legitimate reasons. Innocent until proven guilty, remember? All we have to do is avoid looking suspicious, which we already do anyway. He won’t have any evidence to pin it on us besides a hunch, and even if he shares that hunch, he’ll get in trouble for not disclosing information about you and your relationship sooner.” 

Jill said, “That seems overly optimistic.” 

“Which one of us is the expert?” Riley snapped. Jill flinched, and the other three watched Riley warily. “Sorry,” she grumbled. 

The tension only somewhat dissipated. 

“Anyway,” Riley redirected. “We picked up the replicas.” She gestured to Nikki’s Balenciaga bag sitting open on a nearby chair. 

“Replicas?” Riley fought the urge to sigh at Jill and her constant questions. 

“What did you think we were going to do? Just take the jewelry and run like hell?” 

Jill’s silence was a resounding yes. 

“Pickpocketing 101. What did I tell you?” 

Understanding dawned in Jill’s wide, blue eyes. “When you steal something heavy, put something else in its place.” A pause. “We’re going to replace the jewelry with fakes so no one even realizes the real set is missing.” 

It was Cage’s turn to smirk. “She’s catching on.” The blonde leaned in. “So, can we see them?” 

Nikki was off the bed in an instant, retrieving a package wrapped in plain brown paper from her purse. She let Cage have the honor of unwrapping it and revealing the masterfully crafted jewels. 

The faux-sapphire and diamond necklace and earrings were stunning. And exact replicas of the real set. The only difference was a tiny, insignificant bump Nikki’s jeweler added to the back of each piece so they could quickly tell the difference between the replicas and the real deal. 

Desi whistled. “Damn. Those are stunning.” Beside her, Cage nodded appreciatively. “You would look so hot wearing those,” Desi murmured to her girlfriend. “Wearing only those.” 

Blushing furiously, Cage shoved her girlfriend off the bed. 

Riley knew that if she let them, her friends would spend hours examining the jewels. Clearing her throat to get everyone’s attention, she asked, “Everyone clear on the plan?” 

The four other women nodded in turn, first Desi, then Nikki, then Cage, and finally Jill. 

“Good.” 

“That’s it?” Jill questioned. “No team pep talk?” The other women chuckled, but Riley just rolled her eyes. 

“That one,” Desi pointed at Riley, “is the wrong person to ask for a pep talk.” 

Riley’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “Hey! Speak for yourself.” Desi shrugged. Directing her attention back to Jill, “You really want a pep talk?” 

Jill blinked. 

“Don’t fuck this up.”

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask. 

@macrileyedits​ / @hellishrose​ / @incorret-macgyver-quotes​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem​ / @thecarrieonokay

[genork-the-fandork]

To celebrate Odaiba Day, I wanted to give some recognition to the “Odaibas” of the other series; that is, the days that started the other series’ adventures. While Odaiba Day doesn’t exactly recognize every Digimon beginning, I’d like to think it’s a celebration of all things Digimon.

So here are some one shots featuring the Adventure and non-Adventure series. I hope you enjoy! <3

01

"Wow. So today was the day, huh?" Tai said, glancing at the calendar on the fridge. It was the same brand of calendar that had been up the first time around. Now, two years later, it felt like yesterday that he was realizing the time flow between the Digital World and the human one was different.

The rest of the gang was crowded in his living room, eating the snacks his mother had put out for him. When they'd planned to get together, they had completely forgotten about the actual anniversary of their adventure. But in some ways, they had subconsciously remembered it anyway. Tai had a feeling the date would live on in their hearts for a long time.

"Tai! Hurry up with the food!" Agumon called, his face covered in crumbs. "I'm starving!"

"You might wanna do what he says!" Matt added. "I'm afraid he's going to eat Patamon next!"

"What?!" Patamon squeaked, hiding behind T.K.

Laughing, Tai brought out the rest of the snacks, leaving behind the calendar that had served as an eternal reminder of that fateful day.

02

Davis half-expected something exciting to happen on his first day of high school. Unfortunately, it was the same old school nonsense that he'd never really liked. No new kid that somehow knew the girl he liked, no computer warping him to the Digital World. It was almost saddening, really.

But his spirits lifted when he saw T.K. and Kari waiting for him outside the school. Yolei was off to the side, probably calling Ken or Cody to make sure they were ready to meet up. "You ready to go, Davis?" T.K. called, grinning the grin that used to annoy Davis to no end.

"'Course I am! I've been waiting for this all day!" he called back, running up to his friends. "Ramen, here I come!"

Kari and Yolei giggled as T.K. and Davis set off down the street, bickering over what type of ramen was the best. 

It wasn't a big celebration, like the rest of the gang tended to do on anniversaries, but it was fitting for them, and that was all that mattered.

Tamers

Takato remembered the exact spot where he had first found the physical form of Guilmon. He also remembered the exact spot where the baby forms of all the Digimon had gone back to the Digital World. There were a lot of things he remembered, sentimental as he was, but he was starting to forget the exact day when it had all begun.

"To be fair, Takato, everything started on different days for all of us," Henry reasoned, closing his shoe locker and hoisting his messenger bag onto his shoulder. "I met Terriermon before you met Guilmon, and Jeri met Leomon before Kazu and Kenta met their partners. It's a bit hard to remember an anniversary when none of ours match up."

"But it would be nice to celebrate something that changed our lives the way the Digimon did," Takato said with a sigh.

"Why don't we just celebrate the day we all promised we'd meet again?" Rika said from Takato's left, appearing out of nowhere. She had long since mastered Renamon's signature skill.

Henry and Takato exchanged a glance. "That's perfect!" Takato exclaimed. "Then that'll be our anniversary!"

"But that's today—" Henry started to say, yelping when Takato grabbed his and Rika's hands and started dragging them down the street.

"Time to celebrate!"

Frontier

"We look weird," Koji said as they all stood in the train station, looking like a very conspicuous group of schoolkids.

"Well, where else are we supposed to celebrate?" Takuya snapped, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Maybe not so close to the stairs I fell down?" Koichi suggested, eyeing the offending stairwell cautiously.

"What are we gonna do? Play card games in here?" J.P. asked, snacking on some chips.

"I have to go to the bathroom," Tommy said. "Can we decide what we're doing here?"

"I knew I shouldn't have come," Zoe sighed. "Takuya didn't have a plan, just like I thought."

"Is it so bad that I wanted us all to spend time together?" Takuya nearly yelled, drawing the attention of passersby. Blushing furiously, Takuya muttered, "This is where our adventure began, guys. Cut me some slack, it's not like we were at a summer camp or something."

They couldn't help but smile at that. "Maybe we should go grab some pizza?" Koji suggested softly, placing his hand on Takuya's shoulder.

"Sounds like a plan," J.P. agreed, and they all got up and headed out of the train station, teasing Takuya about his lack of planning.

But they all silently agreed that they appreciated his efforts very, very much.

Data Squad [Savers]

"Remember the day we met?" Marcus asked, staring out at the world he now called his home.

"Hard to forget. You punch hard, Marcus," Agumon said, shaking his head at the memory. "Sometimes I still feel like I have bruises from that fight."

"Ha, sorry about that, buddy." Marcus grinned. "I never woulda thought that would lead to us both here, in the Digital World. Pretty wild, huh?"

"You got that right." Agumon paused. "I hope Yoshino and Thomas are alright."

"Ah, they'll be fine. They're smarter than me," Marcus said, waving off Agumon's concern. "If anything, I just want them to hurry up and open up the gate again so I can see my sister."

"We'll see them again, I'm sure of it." Agumon slapped a clawed hand over his chest. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll tear apart the worlds to let you see your sister again."

Marcus couldn't help but laugh at that. "Hey, thanks, bud."

That was when they heard someone calling Marcus's name.

"Marcus! Agumon! Are you there?"

They looked at each other, astonished. Was that…

"Yoshino! Over here!"

Marcus spun around with a wide smile to see his friends running toward him.

Well, what a happy anniversary this was.

Xros Wars [+Hunters]

"Man, what a ride the past couple years has been," Taiki said, adjusting the goggles on his head. "I don't think there are words to express how crazy this has all been."

"Easy for you to say," Akari teased. "You didn't get left behind twice when things were going down."

"I said I was sorry," Taiki began again, and Zenjirou chuckled at the familiar apology.

Tagiru and Gumdramon weren't even paying attention; they were too busy scarfing down their junk food. Yuu and Nene watched in almost concerned fascination while Ryouma and company dined at a table across the aisle from them.

"Hard to believe it's been a year since everything calmed down," Kiriha said, sipping his milkshake as he rested his arm over the seat of the booth. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll wake up and need to go solve some Digimon problem."

"I know what you mean," Taiki said. "It never really leaves you."

Nene smiled. "But now the world is safe and we can focus on spending time together, right?"

Zenjirou blushed at the word "together," but before he could ask her out again, Tagiru said, "Only if it means we come back here every time!"

The others laughed at that, letting Tagiru's antics wash away the uncertainty and fear that the Digital World was never truly saved. For now, they were here, and they were going to have a good time together.

[tchallasbabymama]

Isn’t She Lovely

Hey beautiful people, here’s chapter 11 of Playlist. Check out my masterlist here to catch up and to read my other stories.

Also, In a couple weeks I’ll be starting up “Ménage `a Trois”, a T’Challa x  OC x M’Baku throuple fic. Check out the preview here! Word count: 6800

CW: pregnancy complications, a lil smut

“What about T’Kiri?”

“What is it with you all and these apostrophe names? No. How about Adana?”

T’Challa shook his head and scrunched up his nose.

“I hooked up with an Adana once, pass.”

Ashanti rolled her eyes, “Well maybe if you weren’t such a whore back in the day this would be easier.”

Shuri caught the tail end of their conversation and cackled loudly as she entered the kitchen.

“Still trying to come up with names?” She asked as she sat next to Ashanti, now towards the end of her second trimester. The princess grabbed a mango and started slicing away, handing some to Ashanti without her even needing to ask. 

“Yes, and half of the girl names I suggest remind your brother here of his sordid past.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes as he continued to fix her a plate of fish and plantains, her latest craving combination. “My past is not sordid, in fact it was quite fun-”

Ashanti stared at him with vibranium daggers in her eyes and he changed his tune, clearing his throat.

“What I mean is, um-”

“Mmmhm. Anyways, this baby will be here before we even know what to call them,” Ashanti put her head in her hands and Shuri rubbed her back.

“Are you open to suggestions?”

“Sure, why not?” Ashanti gave in.

“I’ve always liked Jendayi for a girl.”

“Jendayi…”

“Jendayi…”

The parents both rolled the name around their mouths and looked to each other for confirmation.

“Ok I like it, it’s going on the list.”

“How many names do you have so far?” “We have Nailah, and Jendayi for a princess. A prince would either be Dakarai, Hasani, Kendi, Shaka, or Omari.” Ashanti pulled the prince names out of thin air since they knew they were having a girl, but wanted to throw her off their trail.

“Oooh, good choices.”

“Thank you,” she playfully stuck her tongue out at T’Challa and he gave her the “you’re gonna get it later” look. Her face got hot and she looked away, knowing she had been working his nerves all day long. Ashanti dug into her food and smiled at how even when she was being difficult he would pull out all the stops for her. He scooped some fish and plantains onto his plate and stood with his back against the counter, devouring his food.

“So I see you two are still on that weird ‘baba pregnancy’ thing.”

“Thank Bast for the heart shaped herb or I wouldn't be able to fit into my suit,” T’Challa mused before he and Shuri heard a small sniffle.

“Lucky for you. I feel like an elephant.”

“Oh, my love, I didn’t mean-”

“I know, I just. Ugh, hormones,” she laughed through her tears and he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing her baby bump as he rested his head on top of hers, wishing his baby girl would kick for him.

The princess watched the adorable interaction and sighed. The more she saw of Ashanti’s pregnancy, the more she realized she would never put herself through that ever in her life. Shuri felt she was destined to be the Cool Aunt, not someone’s mother.

“Well I just came for a snack, I’ll see myself out before the two of you start practicing for baby number two.”

They chuckled, but understood. Lately they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other and oftentimes forgot to tone it down when there were other people in the room.

“We can behave, we promise.”

“Speak for yourself,” T’Challa grumbled into her ear, causing her to giggle.

Shuri wretched loudly as she left the room.

“She’s so easy,” T’Challa laughed at his sister’s habit of disappearing whenever they got too close.

“She’ll be a great auntie though. Imagine her teaching our little girl, she’ll be a genius!”

“Who do you think taught Shuri?” he asked, slightly taken aback. 

“I just sort of assumed she came out the box fully assembled.”

He laughed at her and reached for her plate.

“No, I’ll get it baby, you do so much for me,” she turned around on her stool and gave him a kiss before hopping off and grabbing her plate. Before she made it around the counter T’Challa got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach and she faltered, dropping the dish with a loud crash and fainting into his arms.

When she woke up she was in Shuri’s lab with her midwife, Binta, T’Challa, and Shuri all surrounding her. 

“What happened?”

“You fainted, love,” T’Challa’s voice was shaky.

“Am I...is the-”

“They’re ok, but dear...you have preeclampsia. Your blood pressure is through the roof, it’s amazing this didn’t happen sooner,” the midwife, Ramla, pointed out. “And you’re lucky the king was there or it could have been much worse.”

T’Challa intertwined their fingers and squeezed her hand. She could tell he was shaken up.

“Ok so what now?” the queen asked. Binta grabbed her other hand and looked to both the soon-to-be parents.

“You’re on bedrest, sweetie.”

“What does that mean?”

They all locked eyes with each other in a silent conversation.

“It means we need to keep your stress levels down so you and your baby can stay healthy.”

“You mean, keep me from getting worse…” her voice softened from the emotions welling up inside her.

T’Challa looked to the midwife and she nodded before leading everyone else out of the room. Once they were alone her tears flowed freely and he wiped them away, letting a couple of his own fall right along with hers. 

“You scared me, Kitten,” his hand found its way to his daughter, like always. “I thought I lost you...both of you.” 

“We’re here, baby,” her hand cupped his face and brought his lips down to hers. She kissed him lightly and wiped away his tears now. She knew that although anybody would have been scared in that situation, T’Challa was especially worried about the same thing happening to Ashanti that happened to his mother, and now his worst fears were coming true. She kissed him again and he leaned against the table to get closer. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You better not, I’ll go drag you back myself.”

Ashanti chuckled, but she knew he meant every word.

--------

T’Challa pulled up to the small home on the outskirts of town and parked his hoverbike around back before heading up to the door and knocking. When the door opened he was met with the sight of a short and stout woman with long gray hair braided down her back. Her face lit up when she saw him and her warm eyes crinkled as she smiled. Her smile was short-lived though as she quickly reverted to fussing at him.

“It’s been too long, T’Challa.”

“Yes ma’am, I know. My apologies.”

“Mhm, get in here.” she opened her arms and he came in for one of her famous hugs that made all your problems disappear.

“You should stop by and say hi to your old nanny more often,” Ada chastised him. “But I’m glad to see you. Come in, make yourself at home. Are you hungry? I just finished dinner, I’ll get you a plate.”

He wasn’t, but he knew better than to turn down food from Ada. 

“So what brings the king to my doorstep?”

“Ada, you changed my diapers, I’m not ‘the king’ to you.”

“See that’s where you’re wrong, you were always a king. Plus it’s just so funny to say ‘I used to wash the king’s ass’,” she set down a plate just as he took a seat, both laughing. “So, what’s bothering you?”

“Why does something have to-” 

“Boy please, get to talking.”

He had hoped he could work his way up to the conversation, but Ada could always read him like a book. He let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his seat.

“It’s Ashanti…”

“Hormones driving you crazy already? It’s just going to get worse from here, so strap in.”

“No, well yes, but I can handle her mood swings...mostly. It’s about her health...she was diagnosed with preeclampsia just the other day and I…,” he sighed again and ran his hand down his face.

“I understand,” she said, taking his hand in her much smaller ones. “T’Challa she’s not your mother.” 

“I know that on some level, but it’s the same ailment and I just can’t get those thoughts out of my head.”

“Of course.”

“And she still hasn’t kicked-”

“She? Awwww, you’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“That is what Ashanti and mama say. You all act as though I have no self-control.”

“You won’t once she stares up at you with those big brown eyes and goes ‘pleeease baba’. I’d bet money on it.”

“You three have no faith in me,” he chuckled as he shook his head.

“Oh I have all the faith in the world, dear. You’ll be a great baba, just as I’m sure you are a great husband.”

“I am trying. She’s supposed to be on bedrest relaxing until the baby comes, but you know her.”

“Mmmhm, stubborn as a rhino,” Ada said, head shaking from side to side. “I bet getting her to stay in bed takes an act of Bast.”

“It’s been two weeks and she’s already going stir-crazy. I just wish I could do something, I feel so helpless.”

“All you can do is keep that woman off her feet and away from stressors.”

“Ugh, she lives for stressors. I can’t get her to stop working. You know, she almost went down to Taj’s yesterday.”

Ada let out a belly laugh. She had known Ashanti almost her whole life, too. When her parents opened Zana Cafe, Ashanti would be across the street in her art supply store all the time browsing the aisles and coming up with all kinds of creative ideas. She knew the girl was head-strong, but her downright stubbornness tickled Ada. Ashanti was hard headed just like her umakhulu, and just like her husband.

“You’re not much better. Ramonda told me they basically had to drag you from the throne kicking and screaming when you caught that bug a few years ago. The image in my head is quite hilarious.”

“It wasn’t that dramatic, and I’ve since learned to take days off. If I hadn’t I never would have met Ashanti.”

“Yes, well thank Bast for-”

“Small miracles,” he smiled at her, completing her sentence. She would always say that to him when he was younger, and it stuck with him into adulthood.

“So you did listen to me,” she said with a smirk.

“Of course, more than my own baba at times,” he said sheepishly. “How have you been, Ada?”

“Getting old, but I can’t complain too much.”

“Ada you’re barely 70, you’ve got another 30 years in you.”

“Tell that to my bones,” he waved him off and he chuckled. “I can barely take a step without something aching or rattling.”

“You know, Shuri can help with that. Not the aging, but the pains.”

“I might have to take you up on that. How old is she now, nineteen?”

“Just turned twenty last month.”

“Bast, you kids are getting old. I can’t even call you kids anymore.”

T’Challa smiled warmly at his former nanny, reminiscing on his childhood before taking a bite of his meal.

“Mmm, Ada you’ve outdone yourself.”

“I know,” she winked at him and took a sip of her tea. “So, while you’re here can I get you to change a lightbulb for me?”

“Of course, you don’t have to bribe me with food,” he said and she shrugged, reaching for his plate as he moved it away from her hand. “I’ll take it though.”

T’Challa spent the afternoon with Ada, just catching up and doing odd jobs around her house before he got a call from his wife.

“You’ve been hiding out here all day, you better take that,” Ada warned as he took a deep breath and pressed his communication bead.

“Hello, my love.”

“Hi baby, what are you up to?”

“Visiting someone special,” he turned his beads towards Ada and she sent the queen a wave. Ashanti’s face lit up at seeing the older woman.

“Miss Ada, hi!”

“Well hello miss thing, what’s this I hear about you not listening to the midwife?”

Ashanti glared at T’Challa but he looked off to the side, pretending to care about the wallpaper.

“I’m listening...kind of.”

“Well, ‘kind of’ isn't good enough dear. Our princess there-”

“Challa! You told her?!”

“It slipped out!”

“Can you blame him for being excited?”

“No, I guess not. Oh! The reason I called,” she panned her beads down to her belly, “I think I felt a flutter.”

“Awwww.”

“She kicked?!”

“Not a full kick, just a little movement. Maybe she needs her baba to come sing to her after he picks up some sugared dates from that booth we really like.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled. He knew she had a sweet tooth and had planned to bring her some anyway. They said their goodbyes and T’Challa finished up dusting the fan blades before saying goodbye to Ada, too.

“Don’t let another year go by, T’Challa,” she fussed as he kissed her cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it! Come by the palace for dinner sometime, you know you’re always welcome. I’ll make your favorite,” he sang.

“Well if you’re cooking I’ll be there, just say when.”

“Tomorrow? N’Jadaka’s in town.”

“Oooh I’ll definitely be there. You know, if I were forty years younger I’d be your cousin-in-law.”

“Goodbye, Ada,” he chuckled as he took off on his hoverbike towards the bazaar.

--------

The King and Queen of Wakanda laid in their bed, silently watching trashy reality shows as they spoiled their dinner with sugared dates when T’Challa’s laugh made Ashanti sit up suddenly.

“What’s wrong?!” T’Challa panicked, his hand immediately going to her bump.

“Nothing, I thought I felt something.”

The two of them stayed still waiting to see if their baby girl was finally ready to make herself known. They must have sat there for five minutes before T’Challa gave up hope.

“Maybe next-”

“I felt it again!”

“Where?” 

She moved his hand over to her left side and they locked eyes.

“Say something again…”

“Uh, what do I say?”

“Did you feel that?”

“No, nothing,” his voice was soft as he visibly deflated.

“Hey,” she brought his face back to hers and kissed him softly, “she’ll kick soon, I can feel it...no pun intended.”

He chuckled and kissed her back.

“Maybe try talking to her some more, she seems to like your voice,” she stroked his curls as he laid his head right below her breasts, his large hand rubbing slow circles around her belly.

“Molo isipho sam, it’s your baba. Will you kick for me? Please?”

“Keep going, I feel that flutter again in the same spot.”

He brought his lips down to kiss over it before placing his hand there.

“Come on, baby girl…”

They spent the rest of the night like that, ordering their dinner to be brought to them so T’Challa could continue coaxing his daughter out of hiding. He spent the whole night periodically checking in with her to see if anything had changed, but she just wasn’t ready to kick yet. He was a little hurt, but was happy to know she responded to his voice. Even as Ashanti drifted off to sleep he continued to talk to his little girl about nothing and everything before wrapping his arms around his wife and following her to dreamland.

--------

T’Challa sat up from the dirt and looked around, confused by his surroundings. His heart beat out of his chest when he saw the far-off acacia tree filled with panthers.

“Relax, son, you’re not dead.”

His head jerked to the side and he locked eyes with N’Yami.

“Wh...how am I here?”

“Bast’s will. And I wanted to talk to you, unyana,” she reached out her hand to him and he took it, rising from the ground and dusting himself off. 

“Is something wrong? Is it Ashanti? The baby?!”

N’Yami chuckled, “No, it is you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’re going to worry yourself to death about this pregnancy.”

“I’m just concerned about-“

“History repeating itself...I know, that’s why I brought you here,” she said with a smile before grabbing his hand, “walk with me, son.”

The two of them strolled along the plane in relative silence until they came upon the same lake Taj brought Ashanti to when she was in her coma. N’Yami waved her hand across the water and as the ripples travelled across the surface they carried an image with them. T’Challa could see himself asleep with his wife, chest rising and falling in rhythm.

“See? Not dead. Now look at this.”

She waved her hand across it in the other direction and another image came to view of T’Challa and Ashanti walking with a little girl teetering between them, holding their hands while she looked up at her baba. Much like his dreams of Ashanti before they met, he couldn’t make out his daughter’s face, but the sight of the three of them together warmed his heart. He felt his entire body relax, releasing tension he didn’t even realize he was holding on to. A big, lopsided smile took over his whole face and N’Yami looked on with pride as they both watched him with his family.

“I can’t see her face, but she’s beautiful,” he said in awe of his daughter. “Can you tell me her name?”

N’Yami chuckled, “It is not Bast’s will for me to do so...but you should know, the two of you chose well.” She winked and he smirked at her cryptic answer before turning his attention back to his daughter. 

He could have sat there all night watching her, but he knew he’d have to get back to the plane of the living soon enough so he tried to commit every detail he could to his memory. 

“Thank you for this, mama,” he hugged her and kissed her temple. They stayed like that for a few moments until N’Yami pulled away and looked at her son with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

“You should also know, she is a very special child...as is your wife.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” she said with a snap of her fingers. T’Challa opened his eyes to see he was back in his bed with Ashanti, very much alive and sated with knowing his girls would be fine.

Just as he was about to get his day started, Ashanti rolled over and threw her leg across him before nuzzling into his side. He placed his arm around her and his other hand rested on her bump. Ashanti’s light snores filled the air as he rubbed her belly in circles with a smile on his face, thinking back to his dream. It was a little fuzzy, but he remembered seeing his birth mother and deep down he was no longer worried about Ashanti and their princess. As Ashanti slept he let his mind wander to thoughts of their future. Would they have more children? When would they step down? When would he let her take over being the Black Panther?

“So many questions, little one,” he mused aloud as he sighed, but his eyes quickly lit up at feeling the smallest little tremor right under his hand. 

“So you do like my voice, eh?” he felt it again and Ashanti shifted next to him, undoubtedly feeling the movement as well.

“Wake up, Kitten,” he whispered in her ear and a smile spread across her face before her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Watch this.”

He lowered himself to her belly and his eyes flitted back up to Ashanti.

“How was your sleep?”

“It- Bast! Did you feel that? You had to have felt that one.”

He nodded with a goofy smile on his face, “Just a little bit.”

Tears came to Ashanti’s eyes as she sat up in bed. More came and T’Challa grew concerned, pulling her into his arms.

“What is it, uthando? Talk to me,” he tilted her chin towards his face and wiped her tears before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I was worried something was wrong since she hadn’t moved yet,” the queen sniffled.

“She’s ok, just a late bloomer,” the smile returned to his face as he felt movement beneath his palm.

“She really loves her baba.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Uh-uh,” she leaned in to kiss him, slipping her tongue past his lips.

“Kitten…” he warned, “The midwife said-”

“Ugh I know what she said, but I’m horny as fuck. That’s gotta be another stressor or something, right?”

He laughed at her insistence. “Only if you choose to stress about it, my love. Don’t make me call Binta...or Bisa.”

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“Wouldn’t I? You won’t listen to me, so-,” he pretended to reach for his beads.

“Ok fine!” Ashanti pouted and T’Challa chuckled at her bratty behavior.  

“You act like I don’t miss it, too. Trust me, the second you’re all healed up, you’re in for it.”

With that he got out of bed and padded his way to the shower, turning it on to their desired temperature and catching a glimpse of her out the corner of his eye as she walked into the bathroom, yawning. When she turned towards the shower his jaw could have dropped.

“You get more beautiful every day,” he pulled her in and his fingers trailed down the dark line down the middle of her stomach as she rolled her eyes. “What? I’m serious, look at you.”

He pulled her in front of the full-length mirror in the shower and stood behind her with his head on top of hers and his arms in their usual place on the underside of her belly. He studied her round face as she squirmed in his arms.

“Challaaaa,” she whined and poked out her lip, “I don’t feel like it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to explain it...I just don’t feel like it’s my body anymore. I don’t feel like myself, I don’t feel beautiful or sexy or any of that stuff you tell me. I just feel...sick that this body that’s supposed to keep my baby safe and do all these wonderful things could harm her instead,” she didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt T’Challa’s thumbs on her cheeks. She buried her head in his chest and sobbed as he stroked her back. “This was supposed to be a beautiful experience and it just sucks. Plus I’m constantly horny but I can’t even have sex with my hot ass husband. I fucking hate preeclampsia.”

“Me too, Kitten,” he sighed and she pulled back to look at him. She hadn’t really considered how he felt in all this, understandably wrapped up in her own web of emotions. “She will be fine though, I just know it. You both will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He grabbed the loofah and squirted some of her black soap bodywash into the middle before lathering her up.

“Last night, I had a dream but it’s sort of fuzzy. N’Yami was there and...I think she gave me a glimpse into our future. I don’t remember what I saw, but I woke up happy.”

A slight smile appeared on her face.

“And as for the sex, well the midwife said if we can get your blood pressure down it’s a maybe...so let’s focus on keeping you relaxed, ok?”

Ashanti nodded before he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on his. “Because I miss my pussy,” he kissed her passionately before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. “You walking around here looking like this while I can’t touch you is gonna come back to haunt you later, trust me. I know you don’t see it right now, but you look like Bast herself.”

T’Challa knelt down to wash her legs and feet and she moaned at the feeling of being pampered by him. He chuckled and rose to his full height before she began washing his body in return. He stopped her when she began to kneel, but she got down anyway.

He had missed how she looked from that angle and she tried her best to ignore his thickening member right in front of her face. He had just taken care of her, what harm could it do to return the favor?

She looked up at him with a playful look in her eye and just as he registered what she was going to do, his dick was already halfway down her throat.

Her head bobbed up and down his length as he leaned back against the shower wall, sloppy sucking noises filling the air. His hand palmed the back of her head, but didn’t push. It just stayed there, riding out the waves of pleasure shooting through him.

Her tongue explored the head of his dick as her left hand fondled his balls while her right hand stroked his shaft. He let out a loud moan when she took him all the way in and swallowed around him, deepening the suction as she did her damndest to suck the cum right out of him.

“K-kitten, mmm. Let me cum on that pretty face of yours,” he growled out. She removed her lips from him with a pop, but a trail of spit still connected her to him.

“Ewe Kumkani,” she said as she stroked his dick with both hands. “I hear you at night, in here stroking your dick because you can’t fuck me. Let me do it for you, baby.”

“Mmmhm,” was all he could say as her grip tightened around his length and her other hand cupped his balls, making his cum shoot out and paint her face.

“Stay just like that,” he grabbed his beads from outside the shower and pointed them towards her. She smiled as he snapped a picture of her covered in his essence. He helped her up from the floor and kissed her before they finished their shower and went their separate ways for the day: T’Challa to the throne room and Ashanti to the couch to catch another trashy tv marathon.

--------

“Are you sure you feel up to this? We can cancel if we need to,” T’Challa fretted as he put on her shoes for her since she couldn’t reach her feet anymore. She was eight months pregnant with their active little girl and was finally getting to have some fun for the first time since she was placed on bedrest. 

“Challa, we’re not cancelling my party. We’ll be fine, remember?” She alluded to his dream from several weeks ago as she took his head in her hand and brought it to her face for a kiss.

“I know, I just want you to be comfortable.”

“What’s more comfortable than being showered with gifts and praise?”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead then her nose then her lips.  He reached for his beads and she stopped him.

“If you call for that transport chair, I swear to Bast-”

“It’s too far for you to walk, my love.”

“It’s just downstairs, I’ll be fine if we walk slowly.”

T’Challa agreed before holding out his arm for her and the two of them leisurely walked downstairs to join their friends and family that awaited them for a small party in Ashanti and baby’s honor.

When they walked in they were met with the smiling faces of their loved ones all around the beautifully decorated living area. Ashanti’s eyes watered at the sight and everyone smiled empathetically at her tears. Bisa approached her daughter and led her to the throne she never gets to sit in anymore, what with being bedridden and all. They had it brought upstairs for the night just so she could sit on it like the proper queen she is.

“Look familiar?” Chidi joked as she sat down gingerly.

“Barely, I forgot what it looked like!” 

Everyone laughed and she looked around, confused.

“Where’s yours?” she asked her husband.

“Today is not about me, it’s about the queen.”

“Nah we got some stuff for you too, you just don’t get a throne,” N’Jadaka shouted from the kitchen, looking over the snack table before his auntie pulled him away.

T’Challa chuckled and made himself comfortable in a normal chair next to her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of how she looked sitting on that throne. Ashanti looked more regal than ever and he fell in love all over again. She caught him staring and he sent her a wink, so she sent him one right back.

Zina giggled at their interaction and Ashanti turned to ask her about the shop when T’Challa stopped her, “No work today, uthando.”

“How did you-”

“I know you,” he turned to their loved ones, “So, what now?”

“Now I get gifts,” Ashanti said with a devilish smirk on her face, making the room erupt in laughter.

“That you do dear, and I think your parents wanted to go first,” Ramonda stated, moving out the way so they could get to their daughter.

They were both already fighting tears as they hugged their baby girl tight. When they pulled back, Chidi handed her a gift wrapped box that she quickly tore into. When she removed the lid, she paused.

“Was this-”

“Yours, mhm. It’s your baby blanket,”  Bisa sniffled as Ashanti pulled the woven blanket from the box, tracing her fingers over the symbols and fighting tears of her own. She handed it to T’Challa and he looked over it like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Ada was next, pulling a stuffed panther from behind her back. 

“I made it myself,” she bragged as both of the soon-to-be-parents’ faces lit up. 

“Miss Ada, it’s beautiful!”

“Nothing but the best for our future prince or princess,” she said with a wink. So far she was the only person who knew the gender besides the two of them and they wanted to keep it that way for now.

One by one, their loved ones presented them with gifts for the baby and parents. N’Jadaka got the baby a tiny pair of limited edition Jordans, Zina and Jafari made the baby a little Taj’s apron and an IOU to paint a family portrait once the baby arrives, and Shuri made a bassinet that could track the baby’s vital signs and growth. M’Baku and Shani gifted them with furs to keep the baby warm when they visited their aunt and uncle in the mountains. Nakia got the future monarch hand-sewn vibranium cloth diapers, sure to keep in whatever messes they made. Naturally, Okoye gave them a small practice spear, and Steve and Bucky sent a box of Cuban cigars for T’Challa to crack open after the birth. However, Kwame and Binta’s gift was apparently not to be opened in public since it was “for when that pussy heals.” 

Ramonda purposefully went last, handing them a storybook of Wakandan folktales.

“Open it,” she said to T’Challa with a gleam in her eye.

He cracked it open and the kimoyo bead lodged in the spine of the book activated. A voice rang out that hadn’t been heard in years.

“One day, Ari the panther was out walking by the river when she looked up and saw a monkey swinging from the tree above…”

“H-how?” T’Challa choked out as Ashanti reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“He had the idea a long time ago and figured he should go ahead and do it ‘just in case’.”

Everyone, aside from N’Jadaka, who would truly never forgive his uncle in life or death, was misty-eyed. 

“Now they can know their umakhulu, even if it is just his voice.” 

“Thank you, mama. Thank you all, this has been…” his voice trailed off as his eyes found their way back to the storybook.

“You don’t have to thank us, we do it because we love you. All three of you.”

The little party continued through the night, with Ashanti on her throne looking to her loved ones with a smile on her face. Her right hand almost never left her bump as she thought about all the love their little girl would be surrounded by her whole life. She was lost in her thoughts for a moment before yawning and bringing herself back to the present. 

Bisa caught the tail end of it and shook her head, “Someone’s tired.”

“This is the most excitement I’ve had in months,” Ashanti chuckled “I guess I just can’t hang anymore.”

“You’ll get back to it once baby…” Chidi trailed off, hoping a name would slip out one of the parents’ mouths. “Oh, come on!”

“We haven’t even picked a name yet, baba. Actually,” she looked to T’Challa for confirmation and he gave a slight nod, “we were wondering if you all could each give us one suggestion.”

“No playing favorites, though!” Kwame pointed out, making everyone else nod along in agreement.

“Yes, you should not pick my suggestion just because it is mine, but because it is obviously the best,” M’Baku grinned from his corner of the room and Shani rolled her eyes at her husband’s antics.

“Everyone, text me your suggestions and I’ll send them over. I already gave them a name the other day,” Shuri offered the group and her beads already started buzzing before she could finish her sentence. About a minute later, all the names were in and Shuri sent them off to Ashanti’s and T’Challa’s beads. “There you go. Have fun picking my name anyway.”

As the group argued amongst themselves about whose name would win, Ashanti leaned into her husband and whispered in his ear, “I love this, but I can’t keep my eyes open and Baby Girl is cranky and won’t stop kicking. Can we go?”

T’Challa leaned down and kissed her belly, “Princess, be nice to your mama.”

The kicking stopped and Ashanti glared at T’Challa.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to do?”

“Apparently,” he shrugged and kissed her temple before standing up. “Let’s go, love.”

He reached out his hand and she grabbed onto it, rising from her throne.

“Thank you everybody. I love you all, but I can’t stay awake any longer or I might just pass out.”

“Go get some rest, dear,” Ramonda kissed her cheek before turning and kissing her son’s. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

The couple said their goodbyes and went back to their quarters. They quickly got undressed and slid into bed, immediately getting into their usual position as of late with Ashanti curled into his side with her leg thrown over him and his hand resting softly on her bump. However, the princess wasn’t ready to go to sleep after today’s excitement.

“Challa, tell your daughter to go to sleep, mama’s tired,” she whined as her child turned cartwheels in her womb.

He scooted down to her belly and placed a kiss on it, rubbing the sides and softly singing a lullaby his baba used to sing to him. He remembered that it always knocked him out, and apparently it worked for his wife and child, too. They were both out within minutes and he smiled at a job well done.

--------

Around 1am, Ashanti got up to go to the bathroom, as usual, but when she got back in bed she just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. T’Challa’s light snores filled the room as Ashanti sat up in bed, rubbing her belly and thinking about what their future would be like when she felt a wetness between her legs.

“The fuck?” She stood up and saw a wet spot on the bed that reminded her of the fun times she and T’Challa had in the past. However, while she was still the culprit, this time it was a little different.

She waddled her way to the bathroom and wiped herself up, but it kept slowly leaking out of her.

“This is it, she’s coming,” she said aloud to no one in particular with a smile on her face before waddling back to the bed and shaking the sleepy king awake.

“Mmm, ice cream or peanuts tonight?”

“Neither.”

His eyes opened slowly and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Ok, do you want me to cook something?”

Ashanti giggled, “No...I think the baby’s coming-”

“What?! She’s early-”

“- but don’t panic, Binta said we have plenty of time from when my water breaks to when I actually start active labor.” She grabbed his hand, “Yes she’s early, but so were we. Calm down baby.”

T’Challa nodded, trying to remember anything Binta or Ramla had said over the last few months, but drawing blanks every time. “Ok, so what now?”

“First, I’m going to take a shower-”

“But-”

She held up her finger, silencing his protest.

“I’m going to shower before the serious contractions kick in, then we can talk about names. Binta said it’s all about staying comfortable until it’s go-time.”

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win the argument. “I’m coming with you.”

The two of them showered together and T’Challa kept a watchful eye on her as her face twisted in discomfort at the cramps coming from her womb.

“Are you sure this is ok?” 

Ashanti pulled him down and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m sure.”

They finished up their shower and he covered her in cocoa butter before doing the same thing to himself. T’Challa then stripped the sheets from the bed and the two of them laid down, pulling up the list of names on their beads. They argued over a few of them and one was already on their list, but one of the names stood out to both of them and they finally came to an agreement just as Ashanti’s contractions intensified.

“Ok we should start timing them,” she said through gritted teeth.

T’Challa nodded and set the stopwatch on his beads before texting Binta and updating her on Ashanti’s progress. Ashanti climbed out of bed and started walking around, one hand supporting her lower back and the other on the underside of her belly. T’Challa felt helpless as he watched her face contort in pain again, and looked down at his beads.

“Twenty minutes.”

Ashanti labored in their room for another hour or so before the contractions reached ten minutes apart and they transported her to the royal birthing chamber.

The birth was a blur. All Ashanti remembered was the feel of the warm water and her husband’s solid body behind her. She knew there had to have been pain, but seeing her daughter’s face when they laid her on her chest made it all disappear. Her parents wept when they first saw her and her first cries were music to their ears.

“Does she have a name?” Ramla asked as Binta wiped the new mother’s forehead with tears streaming down her face, too.

T’Challa spoke without tearing his eyes away from his daughter, “Siyanda. Her name is Siyanda.”

After Ashanti delivered the placenta, Ramla and Binta helped the new family out of the tub and into the bed. Ashanti’s eyes could barely stay open, so she fell asleep and T’Challa took his daughter into his arms.

“Hello, my princess,” she opened her eyes and stared up at her baba for the first time, causing his breath to catch in his throat. She had his mother’s eyes.

A little yawn escaped her tiny mouth and he was amazed as though he had never seen a yawn before. Every little thing she did blew his mind and as she yawned again he realized she was waiting on him.

He chuckled before shaking his head, “Oh I know what you want.”

He quietly cleared his throat and began singing to her softly, watching as she drifted off to sleep just like her mother.

“Isn't she lovely?

Isn't she wonderful?

Isn't she precious?

Less than one minute old

I never thought through love we'd be

Making one as lovely as she

But isn't she lovely made from love?

Isn't she pretty?

Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy

We have been heaven blessed

I can't believe what Bast has done

Through us She's given life to one

But isn't she lovely made from love?

Isn't she lovely?

Life and love are the same

Life is Siyanda

The meaning of her name

Ashanti, it could have not been done

Without you who conceived the one

That's so very lovely made from love”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @ljstraightnochaser, @determinednot2fall, @dersha89

[madpanda75]

“Penance”

For @thatesqcrush’s kink bingo--I’ve been loving everyone’s contributions to the challenge so I thought I would try my hand at it!

Jonas Nightingale x Reader for the Gags square ( my first Jonas fic! Warning-- I’ve never seen “Leap of Faith so please be kind)

Double Warning: This is SUPER NSFW. There’s BDSM, ball gags, fisting, squirting, forced orgasms, and a pinch of priest kink (even though Jonas is a “reverend” not a priest)

Hold on to your butts and get your splash guards out!

Sam Nightingale sat cross-legged in front of the pulpit. A frigid blast slapped her in the face and she silently praised whoever invented air conditioning. Rather than pitching a tent and sweating her ass off in an abandoned field out in east Jesus nowhere, the local pastor had insisted that she and Jonas use his church for their revival.

With a glint in her eye, she gazed down at her lap overflowing with dollar bills. Ten. Twenties. Fifties. Even a few hundreds from the wealthier church patrons. Every dollar counted, she could hear a cash register cha-ching in her brain. Ah, the simple-minded naivety of the Midwest. It was like taking candy from a baby. “Damn, Jonas.” She shook her head in amazement. “We made bank today. Who knew Nebraskeners were so generous? I swear you wave around a Bible and the promise of redemption in front of folks and the money flows.” 

Her comments were greeted with silence. “Jonas?” She glanced up to see her brother lying on the front pew, staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. “Hello? Earth to Jonas!” She grabbed her pack of menthols and chucked them at her brother, gaining his attention.

“Huh? Ya’ say something?” 

“Uhhh, yeah.” Sam made a show of flipping through a large wad of cash. “Here I am drowning in Benjamins and you’re out in la la land. What’s with you today?”

Jonas shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? You sure about that?” She walked over and knocked his feet off the pew, plopping down right next to him. “Cause you were distracted during the church service. I had to basically feed you your lines through the microphone. Please tell me you haven’t found your moral compass or something.”

He snorted a laugh. “Hell would freeze over before that happens.” Coming back to his senses, he spotted the sea of green nestled in his sister’s lap and whistled. “All that came from today?”

“Yep.”

“We should add an afternoon service if we stick around here. We’ll make twice as much.”

A dramatic sigh of relief below past Sam’s lips. “There’s the swindler I know and love. You had me worried there for a moment.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jonas grabbed the cash and began counting the bills when the door opened. “The Senior Bingo is being held around the corner in the rec room,” he said over his shoulder.

“Actually I’m looking for you,” a soft sultry voice called out. A voice that made Jonas whip his head around.

“It’s you,” he whispered and shot straight up out of the pew, the dollar bills in his lap now floating to the floor like confetti. 

Sam immediately began to pick up the stray money while Jonas stood there, staring at you. You were wearing a demure, white cotton sundress that screamed virgin, but the ruby red shade of your lipstick purred vixen. His sister was right, he had been distracted and now that distraction was standing in the middle of the aisle. He could feel his pants begin to bulge at the mere sight of you biting your bottom lip.

 “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” you said with an apologetic smile.

“Oh don’t worry about it.” Sam stood up and patted her brother on the back, noticing the way his demeanor changed the minute you walked through the door. “This guy has been out of it all day. Although I think I’m beginning to realize why.” 

Jonas glared at his sister before turning back to you. “How can I help you?”

You fidgeted a bit, wringing the leather strap of your purse. “Actually, I was hoping we could speak in private, Reverend.” 

“I’m gonna go check on that bingo. See if they have someone to call the numbers,” Sam said after an awkward pause. She gave Jonas a sly wink before walking out the door.

“Please have a seat.” Jonas ushered you to a pew. His heart was racing and sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. There was something about you that made him nervous. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but whatever it was, you disarmed him completely. 

He took a deep breath and tried to recover. After all he was the King of Sin. If he could con people out of money under the guise of salvation, he could certainly handle talking to a beautiful woman.

 “I’m glad you came in today,” he said.

“You are?”

Jonas nodded his head and took a seat next to you. “I noticed you during the service. I could sense that something was weighing heavily on your soul.”

You looked down for a moment, hesitant to speak before finally confessing. “There is.” 

“Don’t be bashful.” He reached out and patted your knee in reassurance, his thumb gliding across your skin. “You can trust me. I help all those who are lost and right now you look like a little lamb that has strayed from the flock.”

“I...I... struggle with the sin of lust,” you replied in a voice barely above a whisper. Your cheeks turned bright red, nearly matching the shade of lipstick you were wearing.

Jonas felt his interest peak. “Go on,” he encouraged.

“I have certain...proclivities. I’ve tried to quell these dark desires, but I need help. My need is constant.” You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering shut.

Little did you know, you were an answer to Jonas’ prayers (if in fact he ever did pray). It had been ages since he had gotten laid and you were just his type. It was as if the heavens opened and a choir of angels were singing ‘Hallelujah.’ He cleared his throat. “I think I can be of service.” 

“Thank you!” Relief washed over your face before you became serious. “But I have to warn you others have tried and failed.” You leaned forward, your knees now touching his. He could smell the seductive notes of your perfume: lotus blossom and black orchid. “Do you think you are up to the challenge?” you practically purred.

Jonas licked his lips and let his eyes drink you in from head to toe. He felt smugly satisfied noticing your heaving chest, the way your nipples hardened against the fabric of your dress. “Sure, I’ll guide you on my cock,” he thought. 

But rather than make this blunt point and risk you running out of the church, disgusted. He gently cupped your face and stared into your eyes with a deep sincerity. “I can assure you, I won’t stop until we tame the fire that burns deep within you. I am relentless in my dedication to saving souls.” 

What happened next sent shockwaves down the wily con artist’s spine. Parting your lips, you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking and gliding your tongue against the digit. Jonas gasped, feeling you bite down on the meaty flesh before pulling off with a pop. 

You tucked your purse under your arm and stood up, smoothing down your dress. “Thank you, Reverend. I’ll be in touch.” You went to the door before pausing and looking over your shoulder. “By the way, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”  With an innocent smile, you left Jonas sitting there, completely stunned. 

*****

The old secretary glanced up as soon as you walked into the church office. “The Reverend will be with you in a moment. Why don’t you take a seat.” She motioned towards a chair. 

“Thank you.” You sat down and crossed your legs, admiring your new black Louboutin heels. 

The sound of an old fire and brimstone preacher played from a radio on the secretary’s desk. “Fornication is not just a sin against another person. It is a sin against ourselves. It is self destructive and we must avoid it at all costs!”

You arched a brow at the secretary, who gave you a tight smile and turned down the volume. You couldn’t help but bite back a laugh. The irony of the sermon was not lost on you.

It had been three weeks since you met Jonas. You were in town for a few months visiting your grandmother and she insisted on dragging your butt out of bed to the sunrise Sunday service at her church. Luckily for you, instead of the regular reverend (who was as old as Methuselah), there was a handsome, charismatic guest preacher in his place. Having never been an avid church-goer before, you were quite taken with the eye candy professing salvation for all sinners from the pulpit. 

After the service, you dropped off your grandmother at her bingo game and decided to have a little fun by giving into your more baser instincts. How else were you supposed to entertain yourself in a dusty dried up old town? You knew how to play the game. With your chaste couture and coquettish ways, you caught Jonas Nightingale--hook, line, and sinker.

Just then Jonas walked into the office, freezing in his tracks the second he laid eyes on you. “Ms. Y/L/N.” He took off his aviator shades and smirked. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I know we had a session yesterday, but I think I need more spiritual guidance.” You ran a delicate hand down the slope of your neck and gave him a shy smile.

Jonas ran his tongue across his teeth, a low growl emanating from his chest. “Of course, please step into my office.” You stood up and followed him. Before shutting the door, Jonas turned towards the secretary. “Why don’t you get out of here and take a long lunch.”

“Are you sure?” the secretary asked, leaning over the desk to try and peek into his office.

“Absolutely. It’s been a slow day. Go out. Live a little.” Jonas sighed in relief, watching as she grabbed her purse and needlepoint. She was on loan to him from the church. The woman was your typical nosy, uptight old bat with a stick up her ass, but she made great coffee and would bring in freshly baked cookies every week.

As soon as the secretary left, he stepped into his office and locked the door. “I thought you were supposed to come by tonight. Just couldn’t wait, could ya?” he teased and removed his shirt, leaving him in a black tank top. 

You bit your bottom lip, staring at his muscular arms. “I had to come here.”

“Oh you did?” 

You blushed and fidgeted with your coat. “You see, I was very, very naughty. I was thinking about you all morning and I had to touch myself. I sinned, Reverend and you told me that those who disobey God���s laws must do penance.” You made a show of unbuttoning your coat and letting it fall to the floor, revealing that you were completely naked.

Jonas stalked up to you, looking like the big bad wolf. He walked in a slow circle around you, inspecting every inch of your flesh before stopping right behind you and grabbing your hips, pulling you flush to him. His lips brushed over your pulse point and all too soon he walked away.

With the crook of his finger, he beckoned you over to the chair in front of his desk. You obliged his silent request and sat down. Sinking to his knees before you, he planted a brutal, bruising kiss on your lips, thrusting his tongue into your mouth. He pulled away and went over to his desk. “You remember the safe word?” he asked, opening a drawer.

“Bakker,” you replied. 

Jonas chuckled. When you two began these escapades, you picked “Bakker” for your safe word. The last name of the infamous Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, two TV televangelists who were found guilty of fraud in the 80s. It was your subtle way of telling Jonas that you saw right through him and didn’t believe his act for a second. As long as your grandmother didn’t give him any money, his secret was safe with you. Besides, Jonas was just as much a freak as you were and he was the best sex you ever had.

Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out several items, one of them being a blindfold. “You know, I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle,” he purred as he covered your eyes.

A smile tugged at your lips. “You should know by now that I don’t want you to be gentle. Don’t hold back.”

“Challenge accepted,” Jonas thought as he grabbed some nylon ropes. He grabbed your arms and began to tie them behind the chair.

Your pulse quickened in anticipation. “Tighter,” you demanded in a breathy moan.

He yanked the ropes taut making you gasp. “Let me be the judge of that,” he growled, biting your earlobe. He spread your legs, tying each one to the leg of the chair. Your pussy glistened as you were already wet from masturbating all morning. The scent of your arousal filled his nostrils and made his cock twitch.

Tied and blindfolded, you thought Jonas would get down to business, but he had a few more surprises up his sleeves. He took out a white ball gag with a leather strap and some honey. After squirting some honey onto the ball gag, he cupped your chin and forced your mouth open. “Don’t you dare spit this out,” he threatened, fastening the leather strap behind your head.

You felt the ball wedge between your teeth. The sweet hit of the honey coating your tongue. Jonas has done his research. He knew that the combination of the honey and the ball gag would make you drool, giving you that hint of humiliation you craved. 

He sat back on his haunches and admired his work: the knots of nylon binding you to the chair, the way your lips wrapped around the ball gag, the rise and fall of your flushed chest. You were a work of art. Michelangelo had the Sistine Chapel and Jonas had you.

He knelt down and kissed the top of your right foot before slowly dragging his tongue up your leg, nibbling on your inner thighs and then trailing down your left leg, planting a final kiss on your left foot. 

He parted your swollen pussy lips and licked your pink, quivering flesh, reveling in the way you whimpered and squirmed. When he wrapped his mouth around your clit, you jerked forward only to remember that you were restrained. He alternated between fucking you with his tongue and lapping at your clit. Being blindfolded only heightened your senses and right now it felt like Jonas was eating you out as if you were an all you can eat pancake breakfast.

You threw your head back and moaned, trying to arch your hips to give him even more access to your core. He reached his hands up and began to massage your breasts, pinching your nipples until they swelled and ached in pleasure. Your thighs began to shake and Jonas knew you were close. One final tweak of your taut nipple and your orgasm rippled through you. 

Jonas groaned and nodded his head vigorously, flicking against your nub as you rode out your ecstasy. “Jonas!” you wailed in a muffled tone, although the ball gag was preventing you from speaking much. 

He hummed in contentment and smacked his lips together, tracing your entrance with a single digit. You squeaked in surprise.“Shhh,” he cooed. “Calm down, my angel. We’ve barely begun. How many fingers do you think you can take? One?”

You shook your head no.

“Two?”

You shook your head again. Jonas arched a brow, even though you couldn’t see him. He knew what you wanted. When he got up to five. You nodded. 

“So fucking greedy.” He spread you even wider. “You think you can take it?”

You nodded once more and undulated your hips. He began to finger fuck you, starting with his index finger, thrusting into you hard and fast while pressing on your clit until you howled. The second finger, he scissored you, slowly stretching you out, stroking your walls, studying the way you whimpered and wailed. He slowly added a third digit, finding that secret spot within you that so few men ever find. 

The buildup was unbearable as your hips stuttered forward, coming once more. Even though you were soaking wet, Jonas squirted lube onto his fourth finger firmly believing in the philosophy of, “the wetter, the better.” He slowly moved in and out of you, swiping against your clit. 

With each digit he added, you came harder and harder. Tears slid down your face from underneath your blindfold. Your muscles began to spasm, your nerve endings tingled. Jonas cruelly laughed. “Look at you, creaming on my fingers like a little slut.” 

You wailed out another orgasm in response. How long had you been sitting there? Hours? Your body experienced a rollercoaster of emotions. Every time you came, you loathed it. You craved it. You wanted him to stop. No, don’t stop! Don’t ever, ever, ever stop! You wanted more and more and more and that’s exactly what Jonas gave you.

After adding even more lube, he tucked his thumb into his palm, tapering his fingers and slowly penetrating you, pushing past the knuckles until his entire hand was deep inside you. Jonas had never fisted anyone before, but you had untapped desires within him that he had no idea even existed.

He began to rock his large hand back and forth. You sobbed in pleasure. You were stretched and filled to the brim, feeling tremendous pressure. You couldn’t catch your breath. Being tied, blindfolded, and gagged, all you could do was take it. While fisting you, Jonas leaned forward and began sucking on your clit. 

Your muffled moans of “Oh fuck! Oh yes! Yes! Yes!” filled the room as he unleashed his torture on your slick, hot cunt. He crooked and wiggled his fingers, massaging your G-spot. You screamed in ecstasy. Your orgasm was earth shattering. You felt a gush of liquid and squirted all over Jonas’ face.

“That’s it, my sweet angel. Squirt for me,” he groaned, almost coming in his pants at the sensation of your sweet nectar all over his face, a puddle amassing beneath your chair.

Jonas slowly took his hand out, one finger at a time. He reached up and cupped your face, you could feel your arousal from his one hand, coating your cheek. “You’re not done yet. I want one more from you,” he commanded as he began to unbound you.

You meekly nodded your head. He gave you an open mouth kiss over your ball gag and gently lifted you up so he could sit down. You were still blindfolded. The sound of a zipper and rustling of his denim, alerted you that he had taken out his cock.

You rocked against his length, his crown rubbing against your overly sensitive clit. Moving at a snail’s pace, you sank down onto his cock. Jonas’ fingers may have been long and thick, but nothing could replace being filled by his cock. After your initial meeting, you quickly understand why the man exuded a prowess on the church stage, swinging his big dick energy at anyone with a pulse. 

Jonas let out a strangled moan and grabbed your hips, encouraging you to fuck him.

You bounced up and down on his cock. He had given you so much pleasure and now you wanted to return the favor. You contracted your muscles, squeezing around him. Drool dribbled down your chin and onto your breasts from the combination of the honey and the ball gag. He lowered his head to lap it up and suck your nipples.

Smothered by your chest, he growled and gripped your hips, thrusting up into you. Your head lolled back. You loved this, being used as a sex toy. Your whole body screamed. Take me! Devour me! I’m yours! 

The wooden chair creaked and was on the verge of breaking, but neither of you cared. “Fuck! Jesus! Jonas!” you mumbled, climaxing one final time, your vision fading to black while riding out your orgasm. Pain and pleasure melding together.

Jonas’ hips began to stutter. “Oh Y/N!” he moaned. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” He grunted like an animal, pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum. His body tensed, coming so much that it seeped out of you and pooled around the base of his cock, creating a mess. Not that either of you noticed, you were both already plastered in sticky sweat

You went limp and melted against him, snuggling into the crook of his neck, mewling like a kitten. Once Jonas caught his breath, he pulled you away to take off the gag and blindfold. Gazing up at you with the sunlight illuminating your face, that feeling of disarmament overpowered him once more. He was completely at your mercy, bared to you. There was no escaping your trance. 

This was meant to be your penance. Your punishment. But instead, it was Jonas that choked out one final word, “Amen.”

Tag List:

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