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thatblackravenclaw · 1 year

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The Half-Blood of Winchester Bay

disclaimer: the artwork above is not mine!

Blog Details | Let’s take a trip

a/n: this might not do well. people might not be interested in it. i still want to post it. i wrote something like this for my creative writing class but enhanced it after turning it in so i could connect it to the world of percy jackson.

Apollo x OC!fem!reader (Ophelia)

warning(s): none really, a tiny bit cheesy, sort of proofread

word count: 3.5k

Chapter 1: The Half-Breed of Winchester Bay

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The gods are going to kill me. Unlike other half-bloods, I’ve always known who both of my parents are. Selene isn’t like the other gods that live on Mount Olympus. She claimed me the moment I was born. She helped raise me when she could. I lived with my father Zion. The best warlock in Louisiana. He raised me as his apprentice. I do more witch work than Greek work. Well, until two days ago that is.

I have an altar for my mom. A white candle in the shape of a full moon. A shimmery black stand holds the candle up. Drachmas litter the stand. The picture we took while in Santorini is in a gold picture frame that stands off to the right of the altar. We look almost identical. Our dark brown hair goes down to our waists. The curls are not tamed yet not wild. Mine is pinned back with bobby pins, but hers flowed free. Our dresses were similar as well. White with sheer puffy sleeves. Her dress ran down to her feet whereas mine stopped right above the knee. I wore gladiator sandals and she wore white low-top trainers. Our arms wrapped around each others’ waists and our smiles shone like stars. I wish I could go back.

The flame on the candle flickers violently and the drachmas begin to burn into scarlet. I avert my eyes with haste and wait until my mother says my name. I look up at her and her emotion doesn’t match the happy one I’ve come to know. It’s worry with a sliver of fear.

“What’s going on?” I stand and grab both of her hands in mine. She’s shaking. My emotion begins to mirror hers as I look into her eyes.

“We have to go to Olympus. Now.” Before I can respond, we disperse into a bright light.

———————

I’ve only been to Mount Olympus once in my life. It was when I was a baby so I don’t remember it, but my mother always told me the story before I went to bed when I was younger. Most Gods don’t really claim their kids until they absolutely need to. They all go to Camp Half-Blood and wait in the Hermes cabin until their parents claim them. Selene couldn’t wait to show me off. She said that I was her miracle baby. That I was destined for great things. They were as accepting as gods can be. They don’t show much emotion. They must stay stoic. Selene is the opposite. Except for right now.

We climb the steps to the chapel of Elias. My left hand holds up my floral dress while my right hand holds my mother’s hand. My mother is wearing her formal attire which consists of a white pantsuit with a 1-meter train. A full moon crown adorns her head. Her hair is the same as our vacation in Greece.

“The gods will be much larger than you. Stand tall and don’t let them intimidate you. You’re as powerful as them so they will try to get you to fear them so they can control you.” Her tone doesn’t skip a beat. You wouldn’t even be able to tell that she has walked up over a hundred stairs.

“I don’t understand. Why am I here?” My eyes stay down so I can make sure that I don’t trip.

“They found out who your father is.” I don’t speak anymore after that. The doors are in view so the point would be moot.

The double doors open on their own. If I wasn’t so nervous my jaw would have dropped at the scene in front of me. The ivory walls are decorated with famous murals from centuries ago. Chandeliers hang from the ceilings. I’m not sure if it’s an optical illusion or not, but the long hall seems to get taller the further we get into it. There are more double doors at the end of the hall. I assume that’s where the gods are currently having their meeting.

“I must leave you here. They will expect you on your own. I will be there when you arrive though.” I look at her and the emotion in her eyes turns to love whenever our eyes meet. I smile at the affection before bringing both of my arms around her middle. She already towers over me by 4 inches. That may not seem like a lot, but I’m only 5’1. She places a kiss on the middle of my forehead and vanishes in a bright light.

I walk slowly but not too slow. They are already mad at me enough as it is. I can’t escape my fate, but at least I can delay it. My heart jumps to my throat and my hair itches the middle of my back. I loathe the corset dress at this moment. Will this even be appropriate to wear for this occasion?

I reach the double doors. The handles are gold with an intricate design on them. Swirls of what looks like vines. Do I knock? I feel it would be polite to knock. I don’t hear any noise on the other side of the door to indicate whether this is a good time to enter or not. I hit my knuckles against the heavy door and pray that they heard it. The gigantic doors open inward. In the middle of the room is a giant goblet-like container that has fire peeking from inside of it. There’s a giant step that leads to the thrones for the gods. In the shape of a horseshoe, each throne is decorated for each god that takes residence here. Selene doesn’t have one as she is one of the lesser-known gods due to the cruel mistress, time. She has many followers, but not as many as Artemis. My mother doesn’t come here much anyway. Something about the way she and Zeus ended has always forced her to not be able to stand in the same room as him for long periods of time.

In the middle is Zeus of course. All the center of attention. He has a likeness to Aristotle. He wears a suit and carries his lightning bolt at his side. On the left of him is Poseidon. Percy describes him a lot. Gray hair, Hawaiian shirt with shorts, and open-toed sandals. He’s actually kind of hot. I understand what Percy’s mom saw. I don’t pay much attention to the other gods. All of their eyes are on me and I’m trying to prevent a panic attack. I want to look for my mother, but I’ve stood before the threshold long enough. I walk all the way in and around the fire goblet thing and stand directly in front of Zeus.

“Lord Zeus,” I say with a bow at the waist. My dress swishes against my legs.

“You may stand.” His voice is deeper than I anticipated. Uncertainty sweeps through my body, but I stand tall nonetheless. I mirror his stoic expression.

“Selene has kept something rather dire from us. When you were born she told us that you were half mortal. As of recently, we have caught you with a rather powerful warlock so we decided to keep a closer eye on you. Now we know that you refer to him as your father.”

“Oh my gosh, Zeus. Get to the point.” I turn to the voice and catch the attention of Apollo. God of the sun. Horrible poet, but probably the hottest (figuratively and literally) god to exist. His blond hair is set ablaze. His attire is the closest to Ancient Greek attire. White toga with sandals that match mine. A halo of light surrounds him. What catches my attention most is his infamous crown of laurel leaves. He wears it to remember his first love, Daphne. I wonder if he ever moved on. We make eye contact and he flashes a bright smile at me before following it with a wink. A smile kisses the corner of my cheek, but I don’t entertain the thought. It would never happen. He’s Zeus’ son and I’d rather not repeat history.

What looks to be lightning flashes through Zeus’ eyes as he looks at his son. When he turns back to me they have returned to their original stormy gray. “You are much too dangerous to wander the Earth. Your powers surpass any demigod or hero. I am making a motion to have you eliminated.”

“Over my dead body.” The smooth voice comes from behind me. I turn around and see my mother who is now the same height as the other gods. For the first time since I’ve walked into the room, my nerves have calmed down.

“What he isn’t saying is that we came to a compromise.” The other voice is almost as sweet as my mother’s. The voice comes from Artemis, the moon goddess. Her outfit matches her brothers except she seems to be wearing leggings underneath her toga. For centuries people thought she and Selene hated each other. Both goddesses of the moon however have two completely different roles. Artemis is the moon goddess, but she is also the goddess of the hunt. Selene is the moon personified. Selene actually helps Artemis quite often. Due to the moon's brightness, Artemis can see the animals she hunts. They act much like sisters.

“What is the compromise?” My voice surprisingly comes out strong. My heart is erratic, but I don’t drop my facade.

“You become a full goddess and be your mothers’ apprentice or become a full witch and do whatever you want with your father,” Zeus says.

Hearing these words makes me feel like everything has frozen over. My life flashes before my eyes. The first time I mastered my witch powers. I can freeze time and blow things up. I don’t use those powers much, but I don’t know how I’d feel not having them at all. Would I ever get to see my father again? He’s not immortal. I’ll live for eons and he’ll be gone. I won’t get to see my friends again. Percy declined immortality to be with Annabeth. Tyson comes up from the water every so often but even so, he’ll only live for a couple hundred of years. The only person I would see is Thalia. “It’s now or never Ophelia.” Zeus’ statement surges anger throughout my body.

“Have a heart, Zeus. This is a big decision. She’s only seventeen.” Athena steps forward to defend me. The resemblance between her and Annabeth are uncanny. Blonde hair and grey eyes. Her facial expression continues to match her fellow gods, but it’s nice that she spoke up for me.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m going to say yes. You don’t get the chance to become a goddess every day. On top of all that I am, I’m a realist. I’ll miss my dad and my friends, but considering the climate we live in as we cannot stop being who we are, it’s possible for us to die any day now. I can’t use that as an excuse to not become something that people can only dream about.

“I will give up witchcraft.” It’s silent. It’s times like this where I wish I had gotten the power to read minds. My mom shrank down to my size and lifts me into a hug. Jubilation spreads throughout my body and I know that I’ve made the right decision.

“As soon as I let you go, you’re going to kneel. You will assume your full ability.” She whispers in my ear.

“How do I do that?” My brows scrunch as we pull away at the same time. She sends me a wink as she steps back and returns to her true size.

I kneel on the ground and keep my head down. A tingling sensation starts at the tip of my toes. I have to suppress the need to laugh. It rises up my calves and past my knees to my thighs. I don’t know what’s going on from the outside since my eyes are screwed shut. It makes me nervous actually. There aren’t exactly books to tell you what it's like to become a goddess. The tingle stops at the top of my head and I become acutely aware of how quiet the gods are.

“Open your eyes.” I obey my mothers’ voice. Everybody is at eye level now. I look down and see the fire pit below me. Holy shit I’m tall.

“That’s all. Everyone adjourned.” Zeus stands up first as he dismisses everybody. No one gives me a second glance as they also stand and go about their business. I turn to face my mother and her smile is the same as the day in Greece.

“I have to do something with Artemis. Are you okay to explore on your own?” I nod my head and say my goodbyes as they walk out arm in arm. After a moment, all the emotions and excitement settle. This is my life now. Immortal. I don’t regret my choice, but I’m not sure what to do now.

“Ophelia.” I turn to the voice and see Apollo still in his original spot.

“Lor-“ I start before remembering we are now equals, “Apollo.” He walks over and starts to survey me with an ever-growing smirk.

“Ophelia. Greek for aid and help. Also the name of the beautiful heroine from Hamlet. You outshine her beauty a thousand times over.” I hold my hands behind my back and try to prevent the smile from breaking through to my face.

“Now if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were flirting with me.” I decided to match his smirk. “I guess I understand why my father was so enamored with Selene.”

“So you’re only talking to me because you have a crush on my mother?” His eyes widened. I can see the blanket of nervousness lying across his face.

“I’m just kidding, sun boy. It’s cute how nervous you got though.” I give him a wink before patting him on the shoulder as I walk past him.

I get to the threshold of the double doors and turn back to see him already looking at me. I give him a smile before continuing my journey to the garden. I’ve seen pictures of it in books, but it doesn’t hold a candle to how it actually looks. The trees and bushes are in full bloom. There are golden apples (yes, actual golden apples.) and fruit bushes as far as the eye can see. The nymphs dance around to the harps. I look up to the sky and the stars are shining brightly. The moon shines even brighter. I walk to a less crowded part of the garden and take off my shoes to reconnect and ground myself. A witch thing. I may not have my witch powers anymore, but I can still practice non-magical things. I kneel down and maneuver my body to lay face up to the sky. There’s a full moon tonight. My favorite phase. A phase I’m able to charge myself under.

“You don’t want to join the festivities?” I turn my head and once again see the bright hair and flashy teeth.

“Stalking me, Sun boy?”

“The Sun always finds a way to get to the Moon.”

“Seems so. Thank you for illuminating the Moon tonight.”

“All in a day’s work.” He lays next to me and stargazes with me. “You should let me take you out.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you don’t have anything better to do?” We laugh at this. It’s the truth. My mother is busy and I don’t have any jobs to do yet.

“That’s fair. What do you have in mind?”

“Moonlit picnic?”

“Sounds like a date.” I raise a quizzical brow.

“Maybe it is.” I stand up and dust off my dress. My feet slip back into my sandals and I look at Apollo following my actions sans sandals since he kept his on.

“In your dreams, sunshine. You don’t even know me.” I smile and give him a helping hand. Once he’s up, I truly assess how significantly taller he is than me. Maybe 8 inches taller. I look up and see that his smile hasn’t deterred. He’s making it really hard to reject him right now.

“I would if you’d let me take you out on a date.”

“And repeat our parents' history?”

“We don’t know that that will happen to us. Plan on falling for a mortal?”

“I might. Like you said, you understand why your father fell for my mother.”

We walk back to civilization. The nymphs continue their dance. Other lesser-known gods and goddesses are drinking wine while enjoying the night. Everyone smiles at me as I walk through. “Hello” and “Welcome, Ophelia” fill the garden. I’ve never had so much attention on me before. At some point, we end up in front of a cabin. It’s not like a regular cabin though. There are marble columns and statues that decorate the outside. In the middle is a moon with a crescent overlaying it.

“Where are we?” I turn to look at Apollo.

“This is where you will be staying.” His voice is so matter-of-fact that I roll my eyes. How was I supposed to know?

We walk in and there are not enough words in any dictionary to describe how beautiful this place is. There’s a California King bed with the design just like the beds at Hogwarts. The curtains are royal blue with different constellations on them. The comforter is also the same shade of blue with six pillows at the head. A gold desk is directly across the room from the bed. The matching lamp highlights the scrolls that litter the top. A trash can sits by one of the legs that is close to overflowing. What really catches my attention is the rotating closet in the back with what seems to be an endless amount of clothes on the racks. A mirror with a round top stands next to the closet. It has an intricate design around the border. I stand in front of it and look at myself for the first time since I transformed. My clothes are still the same, but a crown is on my head now. It matches my mom’s except I have a crescent moon instead of a full moon. Apollo comes up behind me and I give off the appearance of glowing brighter. I hate to admit this, but we actually look great together. The moon and the sun always look great together. I turn around and am faced with his chest. My hand raises and places itself on the fabric of his toga. I shouldn’t dare, but I look up into his eyes. His gold eyes look right into my dark purple ones. My feet raise to get closer to his height. Our lips are inches apart. A knock on the door makes me jump at least five feet away from him. He chuckles as I stumble over my words to welcome whoever it is. My mother and Athena walk in. She looks between us before letting a smile kiss her lips.

“I came to ask if you were settling in okay, but it seems that you’re settling perfectly. Come on sister. We should leave these two alone.” Athena also smiles while walking out the way that they came. My hands fly to my face to cover my embarrassment. Nothing is worse than being caught with a boy by your mother. The door closes and my gaze goes back to Apollo. He looks as smug as when they walked in.

“It’s not funny!” I exclaim while trying to cool my face down.

“On the contrary, it’s quite funny. I never knew you were so jumpy.” I sigh and cross my arms across my chest.

“You’ll learn more about when we go on our date.”

“When we go on our date?” He emphasizes the ‘when’.

“When. Now get out. I’m humiliated enough for a lifetime.” I push him towards the door. I know he’s letting me since he is considerably stronger than me.

“They could have caught us doing something much more scandalous.” I could smack the stupid smirk off of his face. I don’t need to see him to know that it adorns his lips. Lips I was two seconds away from kissing. He stops at the threshold and faces me.

“Good night, good night. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.” He takes my hand in his, my palm down, and kisses it before disappearing in a blast of light.

I close the door and walk quickly to my bed before falling face-first into it. I let out a squeal. My body turns so my face now sees the curtains over the bed. Perseus is just on the horizon. Auriga and Lynx are just up above. My cheeks hurt from how hard I’m smiling. I can’t believe this is my life now.

Long Island | The Ophelia Diaries

#apollo fanfiction #apollo x black!reader #percy jackson fanfiction #black!reader

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indestructibleheart · 1 year

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8 & 19?

8. What project(s) are you currently working on?

My main project right now is easing my way back into writing by doing a deep edit on the Landing It series, which is gonna include moving some of what was originally posted as 'Signature Move' into the first part I posted ('The Outside Edge') and expanding on 'Signature Move' quite a bit. I put a lot of pressure on myself to make it feel complete enough to post it, and I ended up not being happy with it... so I'm gonna try and fix that.

I also have a couple WIPs that I haven't touched since I had to step away because of some personal stuff, but I do plan on getting back to my Eternal Sunshine AU and that weird AU I posted snippets of where David and Alexis start getting photographs from another timeline. Oh, and there's another lil thing that I didn't actually start, but I think about really regularly...

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

Here is a piece of a scene from Labyrinth:

Before David can respond, the colors around him begin to swirl, blurring into each other as he’s transported to another memory. He knows where he’s going long before his vision clears; it’s the obvious next stop in the chronological timeline his life with Patrick has been reduced to. Nevertheless, his stomach drops when he finds himself on the street outside Rose Apothecary anyway, the words “I” and “love” and “you” waiting on the tip of his tongue.

He can see her through the large picture windows, ginger hair cascading off her shoulders. It’s the second time David has seen her in the store, the first time being that morning while Patrick picked up their lunch from the café.

“I’m just stalling before I go see my fiancé,” she’d said.

David had raised his brows. “Stalling?”

“We haven’t talked in a while. I thought… Maybe Singles’ Week was a good time to break the ice — y’know, remind him of what we have.”

When David pushes through the doors of the store he and Patrick had built together, what she has, however, is her petite hands on his boyfriend’s delectable forearms.

“David,” Patrick says, his voice cracking on the ‘a.’

The redhead turns, flashing him a smile. “Oh, hey,” she pipes, like they’re old friends. “Looks like I found him — I had no idea this was his store, too. So weird, right?”

David’s mouth goes dry. “Patrick is your fiancé?”

“Ex-fiancé,” Patrick, to his credit, is quick to say. “Rachel, David —”

His head shakes so rapidly that it makes him dizzy. “ — needs some air,” he finishes for him, waving his hands in front of him. “I need some air.”

David turns on his heel, practically falling out the door in his haste to get away. Behind him, he hears Patrick say his name, but he doesn’t stop — not this time. He doesn’t need to relive any more of this. He doesn’t need to hear his ex-boyfriend’s pleading apologies or “You make me feel right, David.” He doesn’t need to reiterate how fucking damaged he is or how deeply this betrayal cuts. Instead, he lets those three words roll off his tongue here, where the real Patrick won’t hear them:

“I loved you.”

And the memory fades.

#ask:meme #wip:labyrinth #wip:snippet

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alexsfictionaddiction · 1 year

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Alex Recommends: December Books

We made it to the end of 2022! I hope you’re all having a wonderful, relaxing break before we dive head first into the new year and everything that promises to bring.

My Christmas has been a bit busier and more stressful than usual due to some slight changes within the family. The lead-up to Christmas is definitely my favourite time of year and I had some really lovely times with Mark and my friends and family. December is my birthday month but that’s definitely not why it’s my favourite. I’ve just always thought that it’s an amazing time to stop and reflect on the 11 months that come before it as well as being the ultimate time to be cosy and spend time with your favourite people. And I think that people are generally kinder in December, which is always a huge plus!

I have a busy month of assignments ahead of me now. I have started all three of the assignments that are due in January but they are definitely a point of stress that I’m sure will only grow until I finish them. I have to remember that I’ve chosen to go back to university to pursue something that I am very interested in, so all of this time and effort will be worth it in the end. Sometimes my anxiety gets the better of me and tries to convince me that it’s all pointless because I won’t be able to get a job at the end of it anyway and that’s when I have to tell it to shut the hell up. I’ve got so good at that!

Of course, I have been reading plenty recently. There is another great mix this month, including a special mention of a book that I really think everyone should read (Lessons In Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus -eeep it’s SO good!). I’m really excited to get started on my 2023 TBR. I was lucky enough to get some amazing books over the festive period from my loved ones and I’m going to do my best to read as many of them as possible before next December (she says, laughing but secretly really hoping she does!). Happy new year to you all!

-Love, Alex x

DESERVES THE HYPE: Lessons In Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus.

Elizabeth Zott is a chemist and she wants nothing more than to be known as a brilliant name within her field. But the all-male team at Hastings Research Institute have a dim view of a woman trying to make it within science in the 1960s. They think Elizabeth (and all women) should stay at home, making dinner and babies. It’s only the Nobel prize nominated Calvin Evans that sees Elizabeth as the brilliant mind that she is. Through circumstances beyond Elizabeth’s control, just a few years later, she finds herself a single mother and the presenter of TV cooking show Supper At Six. Her scientific approach to cooking ignites the minds of women across America and a revolution occurs that sparks hope in some and ire in others. I need to start by saying how incredible and completely unforgettable Elizabeth Zott is. It goes without saying that I love books with fearless, passionate women but Elizabeth really was something special. I audibly cheered several times during my reading! Lessons In Chemistry is a very unique, special story about a woman refusing to do what men want her to do. It offers an authentic insight into 1960s attitudes towards unwed mothers, women in science and expectations of what women should be doing with their lives. Considering this is a debut, I am so excited to see what Garmus writes next, if she can write characters as complex and likeable as Elizabeth Zott.

FICTION: The Vanishing of Margaret Small by Neil Alexander.

Soon after the death of her idol Cilla Black, 75-year-old Margaret Small starts receiving small amounts of money through the post accompanied by notes signed simply ‘C’. Is it Cilla trying to get in touch with her? To unravel the mystery, Margaret needs to go back to the days that she spent at St Mary’s, an institution for people with learning disabilities, where she made and lost friends and love. Once again, it’s a book with a very memorable, fascinating heroine and a harrowing insight into 1950s/1960s views on unwed mothers and disabled people. There are some loose ends not quite tied up at the end and I really enjoy this ‘open to interpretation’ approach but I understand that can be frustrating for some readers. It’s a very heartbreaking story with a very heartwarming ending and I couldn’t put it down.

NON-FICTION: Ace Voices: What it Means to be Asexual, Aromantic, Demi or Grey-Ace by Eris Young.

Featuring a wide range of a-spec voices, Eris Young talks about sex, intimacy, dating, friendship, family, mental health and more in this all-encompassing manual for a rather marginalised branch of the LGBTQ+ community. It was wonderfully enlightening to hear about such a diverse scope of experiences within the same spectrum. The fact that individuals have different definitions for their orientations and that preferences can differ wildly even within the same ‘label’ was truly fascinating. I was particularly interested in the split attraction model (SAM) because I strongly believe that sexual and romantic attractions (and therefore orientations) are different. This is an important book for anyone who is a-spec but it’s also a very educational read for anyone who isn’t.

MIDDLE-GRADE: Wren by Lucy Hope.

On Anglesey, Wren lives with her father, brother and aunt in a strange, ancient house. Her father would rather Wren start behaving like a proper lady but Wren is much more interested in going outside and having adventures just like her mother used to. While testing out one of her inventions, Wren realises that there is a deeply embedded mystery within her family home and it could destroy everything. This strange, dark tale is full of Welsh folklore and beautiful imagery of Anglesey, which I adored. Wren is a feisty, determined, young heroine whose cause is very easy to root for. It’s a book that is full of hope while fighting against tradition, exploring the dangers of honouring history over doing the right thing. This is a very relevant message to today’s society and I loved the fact that it was conveyed in a dark, children’s fantasy story.

HISTORICAL FICTION: Hester by Laurie Lico Albanese.

Isobel’s husband Edward is an opium-addled apothecary whose debts have forced them to flee Edinburgh to Salem, Massachusetts. Almost immediately after arriving, Edward is called onto another voyage leaving Isobel destitute in a new country. She is a talented seamstress and secures work embroidering gloves for a local boutique owner but the pay is awful. Then she meets Nat Hathorne, a struggling writer from a family of former witch burners. With her husband’s fate unknown, Isobel and Nat are drawn together. I haven’t read The Scarlet Letter but Hester is a retelling of how that book came about. Isobel is supposedly the muse for the novel’s heroine and of course, Nat is Nathaniel Hawthorne. I found it to be a thoroughly immersive story about running from injustice and becoming your own woman. There are themes of slavery and witchcraft as well as the wider issues that come with both of those things -racism and misogyny. It features some lovely, brave characters and it ends on such a resounding note of hope. So, apparently you don’t need any previous Scarlet Letter knowledge to enjoy it!

#december books #book recommendations #recommendations #books #bookworm

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victorluvsalice · 6 years

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AU Thursday: As Long As You Love Me -- Not Your Murder Buddy

Back to the “Holistic Assassin Alice AU” for today, with the fic snippet that I THOUGHT was next in line. Kind of glad it wasn’t, though, as I was a little awkward about posting it so close to Valentine’s Day. This one’s on the dark side, folks -- be aware for a decent amount of violence, blood and gore, murder, and kidnapping. Also Barkis Bittern. Because we all love that big-chinned asshole, right?

Okay, the context: Having left the hotel after Alice killed a guy via waving/bus accident, Victor and Alice have found themselves in what looks to be an ordinary suburban neighborhood. Their car dies near one particular house, so, knowing how the universe works by now, they go to have a peek at what’s going on. Turns out it’s a guy digging in his yard -- a guy Victor is shocked to realize he knows. . .

"What the – that's Barkis!"

"Who?"

"Barkis Bittern," Victor explained, pushing some leaves away for a better view. Barkis, oblivious, continued to dig. "That jerk Emily dated before he convinced her to elope with him, then knocked her over the head and robbed her before practically leaving her for dead."

"Oh, right – the girl you somehow visited in the hospital by mistake."

"All the corridors looked the same! Not that I'm not happy that I ran into her instead of my grandmother."

"Even though it led to her rebounding on you, then hooking up with the girl your parents were desperately trying to set you up with?"

"We're all still friends. And it made my senior year of high school a lot more interesting." He frowned as Barkis wiped some sweat off his face. "I always thought he'd fled the country – not disappeared into suburbia. What on earth is he doing here?"

"Well, whatever it is, he won't be doing it for much longer," Alice said, pulling out her knife and checking the blade. "He's my – he's. . . ."

She stopped, a funny look on her face. Victor watched her, puzzled. "Alice?"

Alice reached up, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Something's – off."

"Off?" That was new. "What do you mean?"

Alice squinted at Barkis. "He's supposed to die," she said slowly. "I can feel it in my gut. But. . .it's not the quite the same feeling as when I'm supposed to kill them."

Victor blinked. "It's not?" She shook her head. "But – the universe took us here. Our car stopped mere feet away from this house. Why would it bring you here, show you someone who ought to die, then not give you the order to go ahead?"

"I'm asking Caterpillar that right now. . .and the best he can come back with is, 'It's not all about you, Alice,'" she replied, dropping her voice in imitation while she rolled her eyes. "'Your role is to facilitate the death.' Well, how is that different from – you know what, never mind," she cut herself off, waving a hand. "We're here, and he needs to stop existing. It might as well be me who ends him." She clapped Victor on the back. "Wait here."

"Not a problem." Victor settled himself more comfortably in the bush, watching as Alice rose and headed down the slope. Goodness me – Barkis Bittern, of all people. Well, at least this one I know for sure will certainly make the world a better place with his absence. Still, I hope it goes quick. Watching someone get stabbed to death is never exactly pleasant. He batted away a bit of poking foliage. Though – I wonder if we can find any of Emily's missing jewelry? It would be nice to be able to return some of it to her –

SNAP!

Victor started at the sound, as did Alice. And as did Barkis – he whirled around, shovel held up almost like a pike. "What the – who the hell are you?"

Alice sighed, casting a glare at the broken stick under her foot. "Someone who was hoping to sneak up on you. But the universe has ordained we meet face to face, I guess." She dropped a mocking curtsy. "Alice Liddell."

Barkis arched an eyebrow. "Barkis Bittern," he introduced himself, keeping a firm grip on his shovel. "Why were you sneaking up on me?"

In response, Alice pulled her knife. Barkis jerked backwards, eyes wide. "So sorry, but I have it on good authority that you're a bastard who needs to die. Shall we get this over with? It's quite a nice day, and I was kind of hoping I could get in a picnic."

Barkis gawked her a moment, then seemed to collect himself. "What are you – some little girl playing vigilante?" he sneered. "A friend they didn't bother to mention? I don't know how on earth you found out they were here, but never mind. I've got enough room in my basement for all three of you."

Victor's jaw dropped. All three of – he's upgraded to kidnapping?! Oh dear God – suddenly thumping Emily over the head and stealing her money seems almost kind!

Alice, by contrast, shook her head, unimpressed. "Spare me the Bond villain talk – you lot really are all the same." Without further ado, she lunged forward with her knife –

And Barkis spun out of the way, bringing the shovel blade down hard on her shoulder. "ALICE!"

Victor sprang to his feet, leaves scattering everywhere as he raced down the slope. His eyes raked over the scene before him, utterly disbelieving. No – no no no! This couldn't be happening! This wasn't how it worked! Knives bounced off her handle-first, guns pressed against her forehead refused to fire! And on the other side of the equation, he'd seen her slaughter a biker gang in her underwear! Off someone via judicious use of giving him the finger! The universe had rules – and one of them was Alice always won!

Except this time. This time, she was braced on her hands and knees, blood oozing out of the nasty slice the shovel had dug out of her shoulder. She gawked at Barkis, jaw almost on the ground. "Ow," she managed, tone all astonishment. "I – ow."

Barkis snorted. "When will you ladies learn just to sit down and shut up?" he asked, raising his makeshift weapon for another blow. "Must I always teach you proper manners?"

"No!"

Victor barreled into Barkis shoulder-first, knocking them both to the ground. The shovel flew away, landing blade-first in the hole. "You leave her alone!" Victor snarled, doing his best to pin the much stockier man.

Barkis blinked. "What the – Van Dort? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from hurting anyone else!" Victor managed to get a hand around Barkis's left wrist and shoved it into the dirt. "Oh, I knew you were foul before, but kidnapping people?!" His eyes flicked briefly to the hole. "And – and that's a grave you're digging, isn't it?"

"I'm tying up some loose ends!" Barkis said, kneeing Victor hard in the stomach. Victor gasped, but held on. "I don't like to leave a job unfinished, after all. How was I to know they'd find her so soon?"

"Find. . .Emily? You're here to kill Emily?"

"And Victoria, since they go everywhere together now," Barkis said, smile evil and bright. "Dear me, but they are a cute couple. I understand their parents don't exactly approve, though. . .perhaps that's why they've been so slow to respond to my ransom demands." He kicked Victor in the leg, then stretched out his free arm as far as it would go. "They'll probably consider me dumping them here a favor. Lesbians are always a bit more acceptable dead."

Rage painted Victor's vision a boiling red. "You – you monster!"

"May I point out you're the one apparently palling around with someone who goes up with strangers and randomly tries to stab them," Barkis said, his fingers brushing the handle of Alice's knife. Alice tried to grab it back, but Barkis dragged it out of reach. "The world will probably be a much better place without her in it. And as for you. . ." He grinned as he got a grip on the weapon. "How much will you parents pay for, say, your head back?"

"Nothing," Victor hissed. "And you're wrong. The world will be a better place without you."

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Barkis kneed him in stomach again and raised the knife, aiming to stab him in the side – Victor caught his wrist and twisted – Barkis yelped and dropped the blade – Victor snatched it up, flipped it over, point aimed straight at Barkis's heart –

And then the world was nothing but screaming and squelching and red gushing everywhere hitting his hands his chest his face and his arm was moving on automatic up down up down like a piston and this bastard was going to pay for hurting Emily and Victoria and Alice and who knew how many other people besides Victor was going to make sure of it Barkis was going to know pain was going to know fear was going to – to. . .

stop. . .moving. . .

The knife fell from his suddenly-nerveless fingers. Victor stared, cold shock gushing through his body. Barkis was. . .was so pale now, skin white as his, eyes open but unseeing, jaw hanging open, chest – chest a mass of holes, a meaty slab of Swiss cheese, more holes than he could count, covered in blood he was covered in blood he'd just stabbed someone to death –

"For God's sake, Wonderland! You could have told me it was his job!"

He somehow managed to move his head enough to see Alice drag herself to her feet, clutching her injured shoulder. "Don't give me that, Caterpillar!" she added, glaring at a spot just above his hair. "That cryptic bullshit was barely a warning at all! If you lot could simply talk plainly–"

BANG!

The back door of the house burst open, and out tumbled two women. "Come on, we – what, who are – Victor?!"

Victoria and Emily stared, holding hands so tightly their knuckles were white. "Victor, what – is that – oh my God." Emily clapped her hand over her mouth as she looked at Barkis's corpse. "Ooooh my God."

"I don't. . .Victor, did you. . ." Victoria tried, her face resembling that of someone caught on a particularly violent Tilt-a-Whirl.

"He did," Alice said, staggering forward. "I'm sorry, I don't think you were supposed to meet us this way. At least you're all right." She reached for him with her good hand. "Victor, are you–"

"Don't touch me!"

Victor scrambled away from her, stumbling his way to his feet. "This – this was your job!" he shrieked, waving wildly at the corpse.

"No, it wasn't," Alice said, wincing as she moved her shoulder. "It was yours. The universe made that very clear just now."

"No! No, you're the one who kills people!" Oh God, he could feel the blood cooling on his skin, sticking to him, tainting him. . . "You! I have – I'm just–"

"Just the person Cheshire told me to keep around because he was important," Alice broke in. "Victor, this is probably why you're here with me. You were supposed to kill him. That was your purpose."

"NO! I AM NOT YOUR MURDER BUDDY!"

Alice jerked backward, eyes wide. Victor stared back as silence stretched between them, heavy and thick. His head was whirling, body shaking, and he hadn't meant to put it quite like that but he could smell the death all over him and – and – "I want to go home!" he said, voice cracking. "I – I want to go home."

Alice nodded slowly. "Right," she whispered. "O-of course. Let me just. . ." She touched her shoulder, and flinched. "Take care of this."

Without another word, she limped past him, heading into the house. Victoria and Emily stepped aside to let her pass, then turned to Victor. "Ah – y-you should probably get cleaned up too," Victoria suggested in a trembling voice. "We can. . .we can. . .Victor, what happened to you?"

Victor pressed a hand over his eyes. Suddenly the entire universe felt completely out of joint. "It's – hard to explain."

"Try?" Emily squeaked.

Victor lowered his hand and stared at the drying blood. ". . .after I take a shower."

#as long as you love me au #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: blood #fanfic #that should cover everything I think #this was an INTERESTING one to write #I mean I'm all for Barkis getting stabbed to death #but first Alice getting hurt #and then Victor having his panic attack afterward #I mean he has every reason to freak out but #they're not even really fighting and I still hate it :(#at least it was fun coming up with a new 'how Victor might have met Emily in a modern non-death setting'#accidentally stumbling across her in the hospital post-Barkis seemed like a decent twist on canon #I'm sorry I got you and Victoria kidnapped Ems #everyone is traumatized for life in this AU no exceptions #I need to write more of the happy bits post-haste #queued

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griffintail · 3 years

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The Lost Ones

Summary: Several of the SMP members find an infant in a place they didn’t expect and decide to care for them.

Pairings: Platonic! Parental! Tommy, Wilbur, Philza, Technoblade, Eret, and Dream x F! Child! Reader

Warnings! : Swearing, Village Raid, Minor Violence, Minor Deaths (Mostly mobs), mentions of blood

A/N : I’m the biggest sap for child readers. Dating back to 2014. I literally couldn’t help myself. Just so everyone knows, I suck at writing in gender neutral terms, that’s why the reader is specifically female in all of these (Including Tommy’s, Minor Spoiler, Tommy’s just an idiot and doesn’t look). So, sorry about that.

I’ll most certainly will make more of these. I won’t always have it just like this, I might write a certain character individually in a scenario. It’s all dependent on my mood. I might add more characters! This is just basically the introduction. So yeah...ENOUGH RAMBLING! Hope you enjoy :)

Tommy (Before the First Disc War)

Tommy smirked proudly to himself as he tucked his new disc safely into his inventory bag before starting the walk back to his home. His adventure was successful, he managed to get a rare disc and it was now all his. Walking through the small bit of woods, he rested his hand on his sword handle. It was still night time after all and the monsters were out to play.

As he could see the lights from the small town of the Dream SMP, he heard a cry. Looking back into the woods, he frowned before grinning.

Someone is in trouble! He’d save them and get a payment—er— “willing reward” from them. Pulling his sword, he ran over towards the sound of another cry, this time the sound being continued. He rolled his eyes, someone was crying, what a pussy. As the crying was practically on top of him, he frowned in confusion as he only found a skeleton, which was trying to shoot at a basket hanging in a tree. There was no one there to be crying.

He shrugged regardless, taking his shield off before going for the skeleton. It only managed one arrow before Tommy killed the mob. Looking at the basket, Tommy hummed before putting his weapon and shield away to climb up. As he got to a safe place to reach the basket, the crying now made sense as his eyes went wide.

“You’re a fucking baby!” He shouted in surprise.

Said infant noticed the new face and their wails quieted, but small cries still came out.

“Quiet down. You’re going to bring monsters!” He hushed, moving carefully, getting the basket off, and brought it to himself. “How the hell did you get up here? Who just leaves a baby?”

He looked down at the baby as he sat back in the tree. He couldn’t help but think how small she was, had he been that small when he was this young?

“Guess you got nowhere to go huh?” He asked as the child looked up, their cries having gone silent seeing the boy much closer.

They played with their blanket and he hummed as he held the basket close, making his way down the tree.

“You’re lucky, a big man saved you! I don’t live far, so you’ll come with me. Of course, I wouldn’t just leave you here again.” Tommy rambled, despite knowing the infant couldn’t respond back. “I’m not some kind of monster!”

He made it back to his home, putting the basket on his bed, and looked down at the baby with his hands on his hips.

“If you were left out there like that, you’re alone.” This time, the baby gave a small babble and he couldn’t help the small smile that came on his face. “Well, then I’ll take care of you! I’m a big man and can do it easy! Phil took care of my brothers and me after all and he’s old and stupid. I’m young and very wise, so I can do it. I suppose you’ll need a name now.”

If anyone had been in the room with Tommy, they’d be surprised how gentle he picked up the small human. Carefully, he held them properly, only knowing how as Phil had once shown him when they were helping a village out after a raid when he had taken the younger boy to trade.

“Hmm, I’ll call you (Y/N)!” He decided. “And I will be the greatest father ever! And I know the perfect way to celebrate today!”

Going into his bag, he grinned as he pulled out his new music disc. Putting it on the jukebox, he sat on his bed as the infant looked over at the object making the beautiful sound. His grin went into a gentle smile as he watched (Y/N) listen to the music. They’d both be happy; he’d make sure of it.

Twenty Minutes Later…

Tubbo sprinted down the stairs of his house as he heard frantic knocking on his door and the sound of crying. Swinging the door open, he let out a startled noise seeing a distressed Tommy holding a wailing baby.

Of course, he’d need some help since there was just a little bit of a learning curve.

Wilbur (Right after Declaration of War)

Times were hard. Wilbur had just started a new nation to free himself, his friends, and his family from the iron grip of Dream and his friends, but they did not like the loss of power and declared war on him. As well as the war, Fundy had become a rather rebellious teenager and Wilbur wasn’t sure how to handle all of it. He didn’t let it show to the others though. He’d be a strong leader for them.

He looked over his map of L’Manberg. They needed better defensive points…they fought with their words but Dream fought with weapons of destruction. They needed safe spaces to protect themselves…

Wilbur jumped, knocking over an ink bottle over on the table when there was pounding on the van door.

“Damn it.” He grumbled, quickly flipping the bottle back up and moved the map out of the way before going to the door.

He opened the door to see Eret standing there, making Wilbur raise an eyebrow as Eret was on guard duty at the moment but looked shocked seeing what the other man was holding.

“Hello, sir. They were just outside the gate. I didn’t see anyone else around.” Eret rapidly explained to his leader, the small infant wiggling in his hold. “I brought them here because they were cold.”

“Get inside,” Wilbur instructed, going into the back of the van again quickly.

He heard the door close as he grabbed his spare coat.

“Hand them over,” Wilbur muttered, Eret carefully transferring his hold to the other man.

Wilbur saw they had a blanket but it was thin and the child was cold to the touch. Wrapping his coat around them, he instructed Eret to light a furnace, which he did post haste.

“Hello there, love.” He whispered quietly to the infant, rocking them lightly. “We’re going to get you warmed up and something to fill your stomach, how does that sound?”

The baby didn’t fuss, too tired and cold to even thinking about making one. Wilbur stood next to the now lit furnace and looked up at Eret.

“Is anyone out there?” He asked, his proud leader voice coming out.

“No sir, I was worried about the child.”

Wilbur nodded. “I commend you for saving their life, but I have it from here. Send someone to fetch milk and then please stand guard again.”

Eret nodded before leaving the van.

Once the two were alone, Wilbur sighed heavily as he sat on the floor, still close to the furnace. He felt the child’s forehead, feeling them warm up to his relief.

“You gave us a scare little one.” He chuckled quietly. “But don’t worry, you’re in a safe place. L’Manberg will care for you. I suppose it was lucky you were left here rather than the Dream SMP.”

He hummed quietly as he gently rocking the child, their eyes closing as they relaxed in his hold. As they relaxed, he gave a quick check for their gender.

“Welcome little one. You’re the first woman of L’Manberg.” He smiled lightly.

For a short while, he was able to forget about everything outside the van. He could relax himself and let his mind clear as he watched the little girl in his arms. They were both at peace.

After a few minutes, he looked up as he heard the van door open. As he was standing up carefully, his own son Fundy came in holding a bucket.

“Hey, Eret said you needed…What the hell is that?!” Fundy exclaimed in surprise, startling the girl in his arms, tears appearing in her eyes.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Wilbur whispered to her as he rocked her again and he wiped her tears away with one hand.

Fundy cautiously came over, raising an eyebrow. “Who are they?”

Wilbur paused thinking for a moment, before smiling. “Meet your new little sister my son. (Y/N), the newest member of our great nation.”

Philza (Right before Wilbur’s Betrayal)

Phil shook out his wings as he landed in a village. He needed to rest them for a bit before continuing on his journey to L’Manberg. He had gotten word of how the tides had turned badly for his sons in the new nation they made to try and live peacefully. Originally, they hadn’t asked for his aid as Tommy and Wilbur had made contact with Techno and they believed with their older brother, they could surely turn it back. Yet, Tommy had sent him a letter with worry for Wilbur’s state of mind and Phil decided he needed to be there for his sons.

Yes, he wanted them to learn the world on their own but there were some times when Phil needed to be there to help them.

Looking at the sky, the night was fast approaching so he managed to get a house in the village for the night. Keeping his sword by his bedside, he went to sleep for the night…

Startling awake, Phil heard the sounds of the village bell.

“God damn it,” Phil mumbled, scooping his sword and bag before putting his hat on his head.

Running out, he saw the cause of the panicked ringing. A pillager raid, and it was already out of control. Fires were crackling madly and blood littered the paths.

“Shit.” He swore as a pillager spotted him and he dodged the arrow before running them through with his sword.

The few surviving villagers ran from their homes and Phil went to follow when he heard a wail, the wail of a child. His throat tightened as he looked back to the burning buildings, his fatherly instinct along with his good nature kicked in.

“God…” He muttered before spreading his wings.

With ease, he was able to dodge between pillagers and ravagers alike as he followed the sound. Landing at the house that was most certainly ablaze, Phil kicked in the door. Holding his arm to his mouth and nose, he rushed in and found a small nursery, the flames engulfing the walls and ceiling. Rushing to the crib, he found the small child and quickly picked them up.

“Let’s go kiddo.” He said as he rushed back out.

Once he was outside, he took flight again and flew high enough to be out of arrow range, and flew far from the village. As he did, he looked the small child, of which he found out was female, over for injures as she screamed and cried. She had no visible injuries but Phil knew she had to have inhaled smoke. So, after a handful of minutes flying, he landed and shushed her quietly.

“It’s alright kiddo, hang on,” Phil told her quietly as he went into his bag taking out a health potion. “I got something that can help you.”

Being gentle, he gave them a few drops of the potion to hopefully clear out any smoke and heal the damage it might have done. The little girl gave hiccups and small cries.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now.” He bounced her lightly, slowing down her cries to nothing. “There we go. We’re ok. Once morning comes, we’ll find the others of the rest of your village and see if we can’t find your parents.”

The little girl’s eyes merely drooped and he gave smile before he frowned as he looked up to see the fires in the distance. They were a human child and he didn’t remember seeing any humans running away with the survivors but he’d try. And if not…

“Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you,” Phil assured the now sleeping infant.

Technoblade (Start of Retirement)

Techno shouldered the bag of wood he had gathered over his shoulder, his axe on his belt as he made his way home through the snow. The voices were relatively calm, not hungry for blood at the moment, and Techno was able to have a peaceful moment. As he trudged closer to his house, he slowed to a stop seeing footprints by the stairs and the voices kicked up as his thoughts went wild.

Phil always gave him notice on his walkie if he was on the way and whoever had been there had gone up the stairs then walked away in a different direction from where they came.

The voices were bringing up the question of if he was being scouted out. Who could have found his house? How did they find it? They started to demand blood.

Technoblade took his axe off his belt while putting down the bag of wood. Going towards the porch carefully, he held it ready to expect the worse when he entered his house but he didn’t even go up the stairs to find something. On his doorstep, there sat a large huddle of blankets.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he came up to the huddle carefully and slowly with his axe raised. Stopping when it was fully in view, he stared in even more confusion.

“What the hell?” He questioned, lowering his axe slightly as he looked around the snowy tundra. “Who leaves a child on my doorstep!”

In the middle of the huddle of blankets was a sleeping child, who wiggled slightly at the loudness of his voice.

They’re an orphan now

You know how you feel about orphans

Blood for the Blood God

Techno winced at the sounds of the voices as he looked at the child. They were right…they were an orphan now. Someone had left them on his doorstep and now they were abandoned. He gripped his axe tightly as he looked down at the infant.

It’d be quick and easy…

The small human opened their eyes slightly, squirming slightly as they saw him. Techno’s grip loosened, the voices screaming in protest. They were so small and so defenseless…he wasn’t calling for blood anymore.

Grunting, he put the axe away, going back down the stairs to grab the bag as he clenched his jaw at the loud noises of the voices before going back and picking up the child with surprising gentleness as the child was startled slightly. He shouldered his door open, dropping the bag of wood next to the unlit fireplace before making his way upstairs to his bedroom. He put the child down, who watched him in silent curiosity as Techno took the walkie off his belt.

“Phil, you there?” He questioned into it.

It took a minute but the device crackled.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“I got a…issue. Come over as soon as you can.”

“An issue? What kind of issue?” Phil asked in surprise as usually, Technoblade could handle most of his issues.

“It’s hard to explain, just come over.” Techno rubbed his temple at the screams of the voices.

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He put the walkie down as he looked over at the child watching him.

“What?” He huffed.

Then the child gave a small giggle, trying to get their hands free to hold them out to him. The man stood there in shock as his heart melted. He had not felt something like that in a long time. Scrunching up his nose slightly before coming over and taking the infant out of the blankets and holding her as he used to with Tommy.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” He muttered and the small human held lightly onto his shirt, making even the voices slow down.

He down a level in his home to wait for Phil, keeping the child in his hold as he just decided to do his normal routine. He started a fire and began to brew a few potions when the knock came on his door.

“Come in.” He called.

In stepped his father, who immediately dropped his bag in surprise seeing what Techno was holding as he added a new ingredient to his potion.

“Hello.” He greeted the older man without looking at him.

“What the hell did you have?” The older man questioned.

Techno looked over at him confused. “Blaze powder.”

Phil took his hat off as he ran a hand through his hair. “I meant the baby!”

“Oh! Yeah, this.” Techno said casually, the older man freaking out. “Someone left them on my porch.”

“Oh god…are they ok?” Phil asked, coming over.

“Yeah, they’re fine. They were swallowed by blankets.”

The child tried to take a bottle in their hands and Techno simply moved it from them and kept working like it was the most natural thing in the world. Phil stood in surprise at how casual Techno was, he knew about the orphan thing and how vicious the voices in his head could be.

“What…what are you going to do with the child?”

“That’s why I called you,” Techno said, before holding the child to the man. “You take it.”

“What?! Techno, I can’t just take this child. I…” Phil’s hand shook slightly at the thought of Wilbur. “I can’t have another child right now. And L’Manberg will question where I even got them in the first place.”

“Well then what do I do with it?!” Techno huffed as he was surprised by the quietness of the voices.

“Well…you could take of them.”

“I don’t know how to take care of a child. I don’t even like children, have you seen me with Tommy?” Techno rolled his eyes.

“You seem to like this one.” Phil pointed out as Techno was holding them willingly and at the gentleness, he had with them.

Techno frowned as he tried to think of a good reason. “That’s because they’re quiet.”

“Look…I know you don’t want to hear this but maybe you should look after them, even just for a while. I can see if I can find someone who wants a child.”

No, you found them.

They’re rather cute…

Keep them!

The voices had done a full turn around from when they first saw the child. They were demanding Techno care for them and protect the fragile being. Techno couldn’t disagree with them because in his heart…he wanted to protect the child that had been left on his doorstep.

“Fine, I’ll take care of them for a while but you need to help me, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Phil chuckled. “Of course, son. We should look them over first to make sure they’re alright.”

Techno rolled his eyes but agreed, listening to Phil as he told him what to do. The father was smiling proudly as even though Techno was frustrated with the new task, he continued with it. Once she, as they discovered, was checked over, Phil put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“What do you want to call her?” Phil asked.

He looked down at the child, who was giggling as Phil smiled at her.

“Blood Child.”

“Techno!”

Later, Techno actually decided on (Y/N) and for once, the voices were on his side.

Eret (Before the founding of L’Manberg)

Eret chuckled to himself as he walked down the path back towards his castle. Tommy’s antics for the day had been particularly ridiculous that it still brought a chuckle to the older gentleman as he went back to his home. He knew the days around the Dream SMP certainly wouldn’t be boring.

Walking to his castle, he stopped as he noticed a basket left in front of the door and peered inside.

“Why hello there.” Eret smiled seeing a small face peering back up at him as they squirmed slightly in discomfort. “What are you doing here little one?”

He carefully picked up the basket and went inside his castle. As he got to his bedroom, he carefully took the infant out struggling a bit but managed before searching a bit in the basket.

“Hmm, no note or anything.” He muttered as he looked at the child squirming around. “Well, someone made a mistake leaving you behind. Let’s see if I can’t figure out what’s making you so fussy.”

After a bit of trying, first checking to see if she needed a diaper, he figured she needed some food and managed to get milk, putting it in a clean potion bottle to help her drink it easier. That also took a few trials, but he managed to help her drink until she stopped fussing.

“There we go, now I can see your lovely face better.” He smiled as he sat on his bed, wiggling his finger in front of her making her giggle.

As he played with the small girl, he frowned slightly as he looked over the basket that she had been left in. Why would someone leave someone so precious on the doorstep of his castle? It was truly a shame for those that did leave the little girl as Eret couldn’t help but slowly smile again as the little girl grasped onto his finger.

“You’re not going to have to worry little one. You can stay here with me and you can be the princess of this castle.” He promised her, hugging her lightly, making her giggle. “I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. It will take me a little while to learn how to do it all properly but I’ll learn. How does that sound…(Y/N)?”

He chuckled as he moved his head back as she reached for her glasses. Yeah, this sounded like a beautiful idea.

Dream (The Very Start)

Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask as he heard George screaming in the distance, Sapnap laughing wildly in return. Those two never know how to stop.

“Come on you two! We need to build a house before the night comes.” Dream called to them. “Stop goofing off.”

Yet, he could still hear George’s high-pitched scream and he just chuckled and shook his head at his friends’ behavior. They were the company he kept and he honestly wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Eventually, they did stop screwing and they were able to get to work on building their first home of the new land they had. The three of them joked and there was some arguing still between Sapnap and George but it just made it peaceful for the three of them. It was how their lives were.

Dream went to go look for some sheep to get wool for beds before night fully struck, leaving the two “children” at the house. As he went searching, he jumped when he heard the sound of screaming, but it wasn’t liking George’s scream. It was quieter but still a scream.

“Hello?!” Dream called as he pulled out his stone sword.

As he went towards the noise, he realized it wasn’t a scream of terror as he first thought it was. No, it was a screaming cry, the kind a child would make. He started sprinting at that thought and skidded to a stop as he found the infant that was making the sound laid on top of a rock, a group of three zombies trying to get it.

Dream gripped onto his sword before shouting to get their attention and moved back, quickly taking care of the mobs. He pushed his smiley mask to the side of his face as he finished them off and rushed over to the baby.

“Hey! Hey. It’s ok now.” He told them as he climbed up next to them, dropping his sword at the bottom. “All the bad things are gone.”

He gently picked up the baby, shushing them as he put a hand on top of their head. Slowly, they quieted down and Dream smiled wiping their tears away.

“Hey, there you go. See? There’s nothing to cry about.” He chuckled before screwing his face up to look funny.

The child giggled and he grinned.

“There we go. Now, let’s check you out.” He muttered, looking them over. “No injuries. That’s very good princess. Now, what are you doing out here?” He asked as he looked around, seeing no signs of human life other than the two of them.

Dream’s blood boiled slightly. Someone would just leave a child out here? If it wasn’t for him, she would have died!

“You got nowhere to go huh? Well, you don’t have to worry.” He said, carefully sliding down.

He picked up his sword, putting it back in its sheath, before walking back towards his friends.

“I’ll take care of you. You’ll be the princess of our new land! You, me, and your two idiot uncles.” He laughed, the tiny girl giggling at the sound. “And I’ll make sure you always have a reason to smile.”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #dreamsmp #tommyinnit x reader #wilbur soot x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #eret x reader #dream x reader

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elephart-hi · 3 years

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Worthy of a Queen | Jurdan Canon Compliant AU

AU: Jude decided to take Cardan in small doses during The Wicked King. Lovers AU

Summary: Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain.

~~~

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions.

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

Rating: M is for mature and mad filthy (but ends sweetly) (I try to trick ya in the beginning bare with it)

AN: This is my first ever fic!!!! And of course, it's Jurdan and of course, it's smut. No one is surprised. Shout out to Amber and Hannah for being my beta readers and convincing me to post this. And shout out to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 who's beautiful writing made me go fuck it and sit down and write something myself which I've always wanted to do, so thank you keep being wonderful.

Please let me know what y'all think! I have ideas for a whole fic for this so if you want that tell me.

Inspired by these sketches and this

set during the Wicked King

warnings: hair pulling, spanking, and light bondage

AO3

As she lay sprawled out on her hands and knees, dirty, sweaty, and out of breath, it was clear to Jude Duerte that pride was her hamartia. She could have everything that she needed if she would only concede but stubbornly she refused to. Her pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how desperate she was.

Instead of the glory, she assumed she would achieve that night she lay there pathetically at his mercy. Something she deeply detested. She detested it almost as much as the smirk she could practically hear on his full lips as an infuriatingly cocky laugh rumbled out from deep in his throat. A laugh that had her toes curling and her seeing red and seething. Just as most things that came from his lips did.

Jude gritted her teeth together as she futilely attempted once more to get him to relent but the ironclad grip on her hair did not loosen and she was met with another rumble of laughter followed by a resonating smack of skin against skin. Her cheek stung from the impact and the slap made her burn red hot. The blow would surely bruise.

She hated him for this. Absolutely loathed him for it. She could easily beat him in a fight, have him on his back with a knife to his throat in less than ten seconds if she wanted. He knew that as much as she did. He probably relished in the knowledge of it, of having her here like this when she could easily best him. But she couldn’t now. Not if she wanted what she came for. Tonight her only option of getting what she needed would be to play nice. Something she was not fond of nor good at. Something that she absolutely did not want to do. Jude wanted nothing more than to make him see red as she did at that moment.

In her anger and frustration, Jude let his name snarled from her lips, “Enough of your stupid games Cardan” she nearly spat the last syllable out.

She was met with another slap, its impact sent her reeling with a groan slipping from her mouth. She hated to give away that his blow affected her at all; that groan was a loss for her. He hummed at the sound she made. Satisfied that her patience was running thin. Happy that he was getting to her. He knew he was winning. He gripped her hair tighter, tugging her head back and her lips pulled into a sneer. She could hear that fucking smirk again as he murmured into her ear with the buttery voice of a lover, “What games do you speak of my darling Jude?”

She struggled again but to no avail. The ‘my darling’ getting to her just like he knew it would. Oh, it made her burn. “You know what I’m speaking of!”

All that he smugly replied with was “Do I?” a small quip from his devastating lips.

She knew he was toying with her. Responding with questions to avoid having to speak in truths. A common trick of the fae used to deceive those around them. But Jude was having none of it.

“Give me what I want, Cardan!” it was a vicious snarl from her lips. He stilled completely at it and she knew it had been a mistake to let her temper fly. She knew he would only give her what she craved if she played by his rules and losing this prize was not an option for her. She couldn’t afford it. Jude was absolutely desperate.

He leaned in close to her ear once more and in a hushed whisper that sent a shiver, not unlike a premonition, down her spine and said, “all you have to do is ask Jude. But make it pretty, befitting of the king of fairy,” his words were an infuriating echo of what he had said to her not so long ago at the summer tournament after she had bested him in the war games. He had gripped her hair like this then too. But Jude doubted she would best him tonight.

She hated it. She hated him for this.

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat at him. He gripped her hair painfully tight this time and slapped her ass harder than he had before. The combination left a series of moans spilling out of her.

He drank up her cries like it was the fine wine they had drunk from the bottle which sat empty next to their dinner on the discarded tray situated on his bed next to them. The gaudy fabric of the comforter cushioned both of their knees, his tucked under and between hers, forcing her legs to be spread wide for him.

“But then I’d have to stop fucking you, my sweet nightmare. And I know neither one of us would want that” he looked down to where he was buried to the hilt in her, still and unmoving. His free hand massaging her red and sore butt cheeks that were bruising from his earlier abuse.

“Especially not after you were dressed up so divinely for me tonight. That dress was just begging to come off wasn’t it?” He hummed as his free hand went from massaging her sore bum to teasing her right above the nub between her thighs. So close to where she desperately needed him to be but giving her no reprieve and only making her more desperate. Jude bit her lip, refusing to respond, her stubbornness digging its heels in, so Cardan continued on.

“I could tell how wound up you were when you showed up here. With a pretty blush already on your breasts and the sweet scent of your arousal coming from your skirts with every step you took towards me.” The dress in question laid discarded on the floor beside his own clothes. It had been raven-black to match his hair, hugged her curves and muscles like a second skin, and was dangerously low cut. Definitely not her usual attire, definitely wasn't subtle Jude realized with embarrassment. Both of their wardrobes had been removed in haste not far into their dinner. The buttons of Cardan’s ridiculous blouse scattered the tiles beneath the bed, having been ripped from the fabric as Jude rushed to undress him in her lustful frenzy.

“So unusually kind of you to bring dinner and wine for me, to ask to eat in my company. I know it was all just an act to get me to fuck you, Jude. The least you could do for me is beg for it,” he whispered dangerously, his voice thick with his arousal.

Jude flushed again, this time in shame from his words. That he truly thought it out of her character to be kind. It was true of course. Jude wasn’t a very kind person, not after what she had lived through. But for some reason that was beyond her, she wanted him to think highly of her. She wanted him to think she was kind. And most bizarre of all, she wanted to be kind to him. Perhaps fairyland was driving her mortal mind mad after all.

“It wasn’t just to get you to bed me Cardan,” Jude answered ashamed of how breathy it came out, ashamed of what she was about to say, “I did want to enjoy your company tonight. I brought you dinner and wine because I thought it would make you happy.”

Jude would be damned before she begged him or anyone for anything. But if he wanted sweet words from her she would give it to him at this point. His free hands had moved upwards from tracing around her clit and had gone to circle her breasts. From time to time he would give them a brutal squeeze. More taunting but no release. Jude was a bundle of nerves wound up painfully tight. She needed her prize and she would be getting it if it was the last thing she did. She just wouldn’t beg for it.

To her surprise, he landed another searing smack to her backside sending her sliding forward and had him pulling her back onto his cock by her hair. Jude’s toes curled on the mattress, more moans spilling from her lips. She was beyond keeping them in at this point, the wine they had drunk making her dizzy, or perhaps it was just him doing that. The lust fogged her brain more than the alcohol did. She tried to slide forward again so she could push back onto his delicious length, rock hard and throbbing within her, but he held her hair tight, keeping her in place. Still no release in sight.

“Dirty mortal liar” Cardan spat at her, not believing her wishes to make him happy. Landing another brutal blow on her bum. Cardan had confessed to Jude in the court of shadows that he was no killer, but that didn’t take away from his cruel nature. He wasn't being gentle with her. Jude didn’t want him to be.

The spanking was a mercy compared to the torture he had been forcing her to endure. The sharp slaps gave her friction and reprieve from his cold refusal to please her in the ways she craved. And now because of her earlier outbursts, he remained buried in her gut unmoving and wouldn't move an inch till she begged him to. Before at least he had been in motion albeit it being painfully slow. Sliding in and out of her aching core, still slick and throbbing from his earlier ministrations with his mouth. He had spent longer feasting on her than he had on his meal, now cold and forgotten. He had tortured her with his tongue, bringing her to the edge of precipice but never allowing her to tumble over the peak into blissful oblivion.

She thought he would finally give her release when he slid his gloriously thick length inside of her but still he only taunted her. Slowly he would slide in and out of her, mocking her with what she was desperate for. He would pull out to his tip, her hair locked in his ringed hand keeping her in place while he eased back into her wetness at a punishingly slow pace. All the while knowing she was desperate for more. Each strike to her ass had been a godsend, pumping red hot arousal to her system while his little endearments, ‘my Jude’, ‘my sweet nightmare’ spurred her on. Cardan knew she secretly loved to hear them. Knew she loved hearing him call her ‘his’. Knew it made her think of all the things he could do to claim her as his; with his hands, mouth, and cock.

But they were far too alike the two of them, Cardan as prideful and stubborn as she. Jude could feel him pulsing inside her. A pounding throb in time with his heartbeat. She knew it had to be painful at this point, he was torturing himself as much as he was her. But that was part of the thrill for him. He loved the powerplay, loved toying. He wanted to come out on top; Jude couldn’t let him.

“I may be a liar Cardan but I didn’t just then. I want to make you happy.” Jude was panting as she spoke. She would never live this down. She couldn’t bring herself to care though. It was the truth. She wanted it as much as she wanted him at that moment. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt of tricking him into the crown and chaining him to the throne as well as her command. She wanted to see a smile on his face rather than the sneer that lived there most days, as breathtaking as he was with either. Jude wanted Cardan to be happy and she wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Especially after she was the source of his misery. Although it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been the source for much of hers in the past. That alone was the only thing that kept her from begging him to give her what she so desired. That she was horny enough to even consider begging him, if he was deserving of it, was something she didn't want to think too much about.

“If you wanted to make me happy Jude,” he said her name like a curse, his frustration with her stubbornness evident, ”you would beg for me.”

She felt a ghost of a touch tickle against her arm then flee away an instant later. She peeked down as much as she could with Cardan pulling her head back like he was. Below, his tail was coiling and uncoiling. Whipping back and forth sporadically. Like a cat’s would while it attacked its prey. Before, he had the laziness of a cat who had caught a mouse; a cat that was toying its food before devouring it. Now he was agitated and ready to strike. Jude could use that.

At her refusal to respond to him Cardan tisked and lamented “well if you have nothing to ask of me, my goddess of death, then I suppose we are done here.”

He started to pull out of her as though he meant to leave her there as a panting, aching, mess with no release in sight. Her prize to be lost. She felt his tail whisper next to her arm again, just as he slid his tip out, and with the desperation of a mouse fleeing its captor, Jude latched onto his tail and ripped him back, slamming his raging length deep into her. Hard. The cross between a groan and a whimper that escaped from his lips, and the toe-curling feeling of him slamming into her made her mad with desperation and giddy with power. Jude wasn't the mouse anymore. She was a lioness; she was going to feed.

“You’ll do well to remember who put that crown on your head, My King. Begging is out of the question and will be until you are worthy of it,” she purred at him. “As your sechel, I’d advise you to please me and do it well. But, and more importantly,” she said as sweet as the fruit of the everapple tree, “As the Queen of Shadows and master of your fate I demand you do it,” she finished with a smirk, using the word ‘demand’ instead of ‘command’, so there was no true magical power over him to do so.

“And Cardan,” She said glancing over her shoulder, his grip on her hair had gone slack enough for her to do so from his shock at her actions and words, “Do make it worthy of a Queen.”

Her bravo started to wear off as the giddiness faded. It was in that moment, staring into the Achingly beautiful face of the High King, whose midnight black orbs burned like fire threatening to consume her that Jude realized her mistake. From the look of the wickedly sinister grin on his sinful lips, Jude knew would be getting her prize after all… and then some. Cardan had been playing nice until now, in hopes she would be nice in turn to him. Now that he knew there would be no such thing he was more than willing to unleash himself on her relentlessly.

What a fool she had been to forget one of the first rules of fairyland: Be careful what you wish for.

Jude would be lucky to be able to sit down or move for the next week without being sore if their last row together was any indication of how the rest of the evening would play out.

Cardan’s grip on her hair tightened again and used his free hand to trace a single finger up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps flying in its wake. He pulled her up against his chest by her hair. Her head resting on his shoulder now, breasts pushed out to the world and peeking from the chill in the room brought on by his change in mood. Being the High King gave Cardan control over the weather and such things; no more nice Cardan who gave her sweet endearment, this was the Cardan she was most familiar with, his face the picture of icy rage.

Her breath plumed in clouds from the frigid temperature and ruffled the raven black hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. She shivered from the cold. He was so devastatingly beautiful like this it made her head spin. The sneer on his face made her toes curl knowing she was the one who had put it there.

His voice was murderous as he murmured, “Give me back my tail.”

Her grip on the thing tightened as it tried to lash out of her grip. His tone only stoked the fire burning in her gut, the heat fighting the chill of the room.

She felt the giddiness bubble up in her again, the same feeling of fear mixed with excitement that she got when she taunted him at school. The feeling of taking a dare.

“Fuck me like you were told princeling and perhaps I will,” she referred to him by the same mocking title his late siblings would call him by, all of them being more than a hundred years his senior and already have established roles in the kingdom, while he was hardly 19 and had still been in school with no real power. She was deliberately placing him beneath her by calling herself a queen and him only a boy prince, despite him being two years her senior. She felt the smugness tugging her lips when she heard his breath come out ragged and slow. He was going to great lengths to keep his temper in check, still not wanting to let her win. But Jude could taste her victory, her toes curled and her gut tingled with sharp electricity boiling there. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, knowing that her next words would send him over the edge.

“Or perhaps you don’t know how to please a woman, hmmm?? Were all those ballads about you being a good lover just pixie dust in the breeze? Maybe the musicians of the court were just flattering you so that the fine people of fairy would think that you were actually good for something.”

It was an obvious lie and they both knew it, Cardan has had her screaming his name, soaking the sheets, and has made her a blubbering mess, nothing more than putty in his arms, much to her own shame. But the lie was an insult to his manhood nonetheless. He would have to fuck her senseless now, his honor and pride would demand it.

His grip on her hair tightened as the room rapidly started to heat back up, getting hotter by the second. Cardan was pissed now. He used his free hand to trace the curves of her body following his hand with his deadly stare. He took in every inch of her, from the blush on her cheeks that burned so bright it went straight down her neck and chest and spotted across her full breasts which were heavy and aching from her arousal. He took in Jude’s toned stomach and muscular thighs appraising them as though they were one of the powders he frequently took as though he hadn't had a dose in far too long and was itching for it. There was a furious hunger in that gaze. The stare of a recovering alcoholic glaring at the bottle before he dived to the bottom of it. Furious for even wanting it, furious for going back to it, furious for having said no to it for so long when it felt so right. He was going to give into Jude even if she didn’t beg him for it. He was pissed about it.

His tracing hand slowly inched towards the numb of nerves between Jude’s thighs, her hair tugged back on his shoulder allowed him to hear the airy sigh that befell her lips, tickling his hair. Her airy moan sounded like one someone would heave when they stepped into a steaming bath after a long day of hard work, easing their aching muscles. That wouldn't do at all. There would be no easing for her. If she wanted to step in that tub then Cardan was going to shove her in and force her head under the water and keep it there till she was thrashing for air. If she wouldn't beg him to start, then she would have to beg him to stop.

Cardan leaned in and whispered to her ear, using all of his willpower to keep his temper in check, “Fitting for a Queen you said hmm,” the words sent shivers running down her spine, had her walls clenching around his cock that was still buried in her, to her great dismay still not in motion.

Cardan paused to take a breath and for a moment the whole room stilled as though his magic had quieted the very air around them, as if the whole kingdom was tingling in anticipation, silently waiting to see what happened next. Even the roaring fire that was crackling in its hearth just seconds prior didn’t dare to make a sound, lest it invokes the wrath of the wicked king. The only noise was Jude’s ragged breathing in eerie contrast.

Cardan’s words eased out in his exhale, resembling the sickening woop in the stomach one gets when falling from large heights, “How's this for fitting?”

Jude’s eyes were blown wide and then forced tightly shut as he unleashed himself onto her. The sounds of the room roaring back to life around them were completely lost to her as the brutally aching bliss filled her to the brim. The sensations were overpowering her, overwhelming her senses after being denied it for so long. The feeling of his length filling her to the brim combined with his sinful hands, one tugging her hair the other rubbing her nub; It was too much. Cardan’s hand was brutal in its attack on her clit, rubbing her relentlessly right where she wanted it, just the way she liked it.

The act alone was more than enough and already toying her towards the edge of release. Cardan knew Jude’s body far too well. He had spent plenty of time tracking all her tells, tracking every breath she took while she lay beneath him from the first moment she welcomed him into her bed. His dark hungry eyes always locked on her taking everything in. Cardan was a fantastic lover not just because he knew how to please any woman who passed his way, but because he went to lengths to perfect his craft for those who stayed.

Jude realized with no little shame that he had been saying something to her but she had missed it because of the roaring in her ear. Her cheeks went impossibly pinker when she realized it hadn't been roaring, but her own moaning. She hadn't even realized she was doing it so overcome by her arousal after being denied all night. She glanced up at him and all she could stupidly say was, “huh?”

He barked a laugh, his head thrown back; he loved making her like this. Knocking Ms. Know-it-all off her pedestal, making her dumb-founded and drooling. Such a sharp contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. He leaned down close to her face, slowly licked up the dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth. Then with a wicked smirk on his sinful face, one that promised nothing but trouble, he went to her ear and snickered, “you’re as soaked for me as you were when I shoved you into that river mortal.”

As he said it he rubbed her just so, sending her shuddering relentlessly into an orgasm around his unmoving cock. The orgasm shattered her mind and made her see white, then instantly red from the fury his word sent her into. She hated that he made her come while he said that. Knew he had done it on purpose to piss her off. Knew it was the damning truth since no lie could fall from his fairy lips. Bliss, anger, and shame all swelled within her swirling together and muddling her mind in ways fairy fruit never could. Jude felt as though she might fade into the very magic of fairyland at that moment for surely if one could be magic itself, this would be how they always felt.

Jude couldn’t even get a word in back at him for what he said because he slammed his mouth against hers before she could recover enough to form a coherent sentence; licking and drinking up her moans like it was his only purpose in life. His other hand moved from restraining her hair and wrapped around her middle, pinning the arm holding his tail to her side in an ironclad hold and pinning her body against chest; his hand reaching up to attack her breasts. Switching back and forth between one and the other, he would alternate massaging and pinching her nipples with painful precision. His other hand was still working her clit sending her rolling from one orgasm into the next. The combination of it all was so overwhelming she cried out into his mouth as she squirted all over his hands, soaking their legs and the sheets beneath them. Jude was awash with shame and bliss, leaning her full weight on him to remain upright. He hadn’t even begun to fuck her properly yet, Cardan was still buried within her throbbing painfully from denying himself and she was already a stupid mess in his arms. The shit-eating smirk on his face told her that he was thinking the same thing.

Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain. Her legs quivered beneath her, hands limp at her side. Cardan released his hold on her, sending her falling ungracefully forward onto her chest and face. He laughed at her mockingly, “and now the sheets are nearly as soaked as your clothes were that day.”

Jude’s blood boiled and she wanted to turn around and slap him. But as she went to move she found herself unable to. While she hadn’t been looking, brain hazy from her orgasms, the roots from the tree atop the hill had curled their way down the bedposts and snaked their way across the sheets wrapping around her wrists binding her in place. Another display of his kingly magic. Jude tried to figure where she went wrong, one moment she was the one with power and now here she was again, completely at his mercy and more so than before. The answer to her question flicked back and forth in the periphery of her vision, his tail moving again like a lazy cat playing a game it knew it was going to win. He had made her come so hard she completely lost her senses and touched the stars and managed to release her one and only advantage.

“Thank you for returning my tail to me sweet Jude,” he said, noting her coming to this realization. His hand returned to her hair pulling her head back as much as he could while her hands were bound. He shifted, leaning forward shifting his body causing his cock to finally move within her once more; it was enough to make her lose a breathy moan. Oh! The frustration she felt with herself! She was a fool for him and it was humiliating. His other hand went back to massaging her bruised bum as he chuckled darkly behind her.

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions. Jude was still miserably horny, and not even the two earth-shattering orgasms he had given her were able to satiate her need after all the torture he had put her through earlier. She craved him desperately but her wounded pride couldn't bear to ask him to go on. She tried to shift her bum against his length again, the same attempts she had earlier, knowing it was just as futile now as it had been before. He laughed at her, slamming his palm hard against her ass just as he had done each time before.

“Excuse me, your majesty,” he purred, mocking her for calling herself a queen while pumping into her once, twice. Teasing her, making her nails dig into the bound palms of her hands in ecstasy, “I believe I asked you a question, my queen.”

Another endearment. Him calling her his. His queen. She squirmed again, willing him to please her but he held fast.

“Last chance Jude,” he murmured in her ear, leaning all the way forward so his cocked filled her completely, “Beg for mercy and I’ll give it to you,” the smirk was as present as ever in his infuriatingly sexy voice.

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

He slammed into her unrelenting: brutal and hard. Jude was going to have to skip training tomorrow because of this, her body would be too sore. She hated missing training and it made her furious at him. Perhaps she just liked being made at him, she thought as he hit her spot over and over again making her see spots. She went to bury her moans and cries in the covers, still damp beneath them from when she squirted, but he pulled her hair back forcing her to cry out into the room for him to hear.

“Moan for me Queen Jude,” he gruffed out viciously, riled up and ravenous after having to wait so long himself to have her, “let me hear how worthy this fucking is of you hmm.. this is what you wanted wasn't it? A good fucking? It's what you came here for.”

He was relentless, Jude was biting her lip trying hard to not give him what he wanted. The wet sloppy sound of their bodies joining together echoed in the room in time with the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. It was debauched to hear how sinfully wet she was for him, the wet slapping making it painfully evident just how ‘worthy’ his fucking was. She groaned through her teeth and he yanked her hair hard forcing her mouth open. Her moans came spilling out, pitching each time he thrust his body into hers.

Cardan was groaning with her now. He was getting close if his sporadic thrusts were any indicator. The knowledge that he was getting off to her made her walls clench around him and her toes curl in pleasure, forcing a groan from deep in his throat to spill out. It was otherworldly, doing this with him, so many emotions, sensations, and feelings all swirling together in a messy lustful haze that left them rutting like savage dogs by the end of the night. They hated each other, didn't they? How could they keep coming back to each other like this? Why did this feel so right?

He pulled her hair back hard making her back bend almost painfully towards him, her wrists straining against the vines that bound her; training was definitely out of the question this week. She could see his face now, brows pinched, eyes dark, sweat dripping off of him while his mouth hung open. He was devastatingly gorgeous like this. He leaned down and kissed her as he landed three sharp blows to her ass with his other hand as he pounded into her relentlessly. She squirted again seeing stars as another orgasm ran through her. He smiled a brilliant smile down at her for it. So beautiful that she all but forgot her pride existed as she said breathily, “I didn’t come here just to fuck you Cardan, I swear it,” blush burning her cheeks at her confession, “I wanted to make you happy.”

She felt emotions shining on her face, ones she always buried but she didn’t mind it. Jude was mad with pleasure, drunk on his kiss, his scent, and sensations. Jude was drunk on him. Caution was lost to her.

Cardan’s eyes went wide at her words and he released her hair suddenly. A swear was a serious thing in Fairy especially one made to the high king. The vines receded from restraining her and he unsheathed himself from her aching core. She was met with a jolt of horror at what she had done, what she had said, in fear that she had upset him.

The panic was quickly replaced by confusion as he rolled her onto her back with tender hands and then leaned above her positioning himself between her legs with one arm bracing beside her head while his other hand came up to tenderly caressing her cheek. His cock was positioned right before her entrance, leaking with precum. He clearly had stopped right before his climax. What on earth compelled him to do such a thing?

“Is that the truth?” he said in a breathy whisper, chest still heaving from their wild fuckings, still trying to catch his breath.

All Jude could manage was a small nod.

His eyes searched hers, looking for something. Jude didn’t know if he found what he was looking for but after a moment he slowly slid into her again staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away, his gaze was too much as he slowly and sweetly slid their bodies together, again and again. He was being tender with not a rush in the world. A different kind of fire started building within her. Instead of a burning inferno like earlier, this one was the slow-burning of water set to boil. His dark gaze was searching, consuming. His beautiful face slack in awe as he looked at her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured like wonder spilling out of him. Jude snapped her eyes shut to it, to what she felt. She felt naked for the first time today despite having been freed of her clothing for the better part of two hours now. The way he was holding her, the way their bodies slid together, it terrified her, the emotions it stirred up. He cooed at her then, fingers caressing her cheek, “Jude,” he said sweetly, “look at me Jude, it's okay.”

She scrunched her eyes shut further at his words. He stilled, pulling away from her. He heaved a sigh, that sounded so much like hurt and disappointment. Quickly, shyly her hand reached out to the ringed one on her cheek just as it went to pull away. Softly Jude said, “Please-- Please don’t stop.”

Jude mustered all the courage she had, reached into the well of fearlessness she had obtained from living in fairyland, and opened her eyes. Dark pools the color of midnight stared back at her, full of swimming emotion. It was overwhelming, confusing. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished she knew if this meant something. There was so much fear in her and she knew he could see it all on her face. She was so scared of this, “Please Cardan, keep going. Please. I-- I beg you.”

The smile that graced his shocked face was beautiful and hesitant like the one someone might make if they thought something was too good to be true. She shocked herself with the plea, she had never thought she could long for someone the way that she did at that moment. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She peeked to his tail in hope of gaining some insight, but it was wrapped around her calf, the furred tip seemed to be caressing her. She looked back up at him. Cardan was smirking, but it wasn't mocking, it seemed… endearing almost. But that couldn’t be. He clearly knew why Jude looked at his tail, knowing she liked keeping an eye on it because it made him easier to read. The crinkles beneath his eyes gave away happiness and his smirk tugged into a dazzling smile.

Jude’s heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. He ran his hand down from her cheek to her chest, feeling how fast it was pounding. His smile only grew, as he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against hers. Jude let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding, it came spilling out of her like an airy laugh, her lashes fluttering at his closeness. He was being so sweet, it threw her off guard. She peeked into his eyes once more, she didn't really know what she was looking for in them. But she knew what she did not find there: his arrogance, his cruelty, and his wickedness.

There in his dark eyes, she saw something she didn't understand yet. Saw something shining there that she knew reflected back in her own. Confusion mingled with an emotion she had never known before. She realized she didn't understand a lot of things, about life, fairyland, and him. From the look in his eyes, she realized she didn't need to understand everything. And with that realization, she wasn't afraid anymore. She peered into his eyes unabashedly now, Belkin’s words from in the Isle of the Forgotten rang in her head:

“to mortals, the feeling of falling in love is similar to the feeling of fear.”

But what do mortals feel when they stop falling. What happens when they were wholly in love.

Jude didn’t know, and she didn’t care to know. She didn’t need to understand everything, she didn’t need to understand what she felt. She needed to just feel it.

If nothing else, Jude felt safe here in Cardan’s arms. A feeling that she had long grown unaccustomed to thanks to the cruelty of her life. She looked at the man before her, so similar to yet so strikingly different from the boy he was under Belkin’s thumb. This was a man who she wanted to make happy. And despite his uncanny ability to frustrate her, he had the uncanny ability to make her happy as well. He made her forget her pride and she made him forget his own. Neither caring who came out on top anymore. Maybe it was just the sex, maybe it was something more. She didn’t know and somehow that was fine.

With those thoughts singing in her head, Jude Duerte leaned up and kissed Cardan Greenbriar soft and slow, allowing all the things she kept buried within her to come pouring out. Allowing all the things she didn’t understand to pour out with it because perhaps Cardan didn’t understand it either. Perhaps they could learn to understand it together.

So that night, Jude waved the white flag and she made love to the King of Fairy.

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all-things-fic · 4 years

Text

Spoilin’ for a Fight

A/N: Happy Sunday loves! Hope you’ve all had a lovely and restful weekend. No, your eyes aren’t deceiving you... I have indeed (finally) posted another piece of writing. Here’s 6.7k of Harry riling up his partner all because of a bloody vest.

Thank you as always for all the love and patience everyone has given me. Especially @waitingfortwilight, @haute-romance-quotidienne and @harryfeatgaga. Hopefully this lives up to any hype the sneak peek created! I’m going to disappear again .x

***

You rolled your lips into your mouth as you watched him walk his way around your master bedroom. His movements were confidently familiar as he tucked his vest into the waistband of his white boxer-briefs and kept his eyes down to the dress shirt and trousers he had laid out across your bedspread, sitting next to choice accessories.

He was running late. Both you and he knew it. Yet the leisurely motions he undertook would never have told you that if you didn’t already know. The way he had taken longer in the shower, carelessly stepped out of the towel (and stepped over it too, meaning the item was now damp and in a bunched up pile closer to Harry’s side of the bed waiting for someone to put it in the laundry basket) and meandered his way through getting ready.

Boxers first, then black ankle socks. Then the bloody vest.

You exhaled through your nose, trying not to release a breath that would catch his attention and let him know that you were becoming slightly vexed by how lackadaisical he was choosing to be.

The vest had to go.

Not even in a sexual way either.

And it wasn’t the fact that it just wasn’t doing it for you - on the contrary it was quite the opposite, the tight item clearly letting you ogle and appreciate the fine specimen you were proud to call your partner - but it was just how much of grandad-move it was.

You understood how having some sort of undershirt kept his actual shirt looking pristine acting as a defensive layer between his body and his clothing.

But, the vest had to go.

It just had to.

Blindly reaching down to your dresser for your tube of mascara, you unscrewed the gold lid and coated the wand with product.

Mouth slightly fallen, you washed your lashes with the High Density Black mascara and quickly made the switch to the other eye making sure to get your bottom lashes too.

Looking at Harry through the mirror, you wondered what he could be debating as he stood silently in the middle of the room. A soft frown traced his brow, his eyes looking down at the bed. His hands were digging into his waist, as his lips jutted slightly in thought.

Your conclusion was that he was debating his outfit choice for the evening.

Lid gently screwed back on, you placed your mascara into your cosmetic vanity, before then reaching out for your brow gel. A quick brush through each side and you were done with that step.

You happened to quite like his outfit choice. It was a little less formal than usual for one of your dinners. Classic houndstooth patterned trousers and smart black shirt. The kind of material that made a scratching noise which was music to your ears as you clawed at your man, wanting him closer. Whether that was in the booth of a restaurant, on the car ride home while you were sat at a red traffic light, or when he had you pinned against the locked door for your house.

Eyes dropping, you watched as your hands - with freshly lacquered nails - gently drew the opening of your silky-satin dressing gown together as it started to gape.

From your fidgeting, Harry’s attention was stolen by the movement he had seen in his peripherals and when you next looked up at him in the mirror you were met by his already awaiting gaze.

His face looked worn, as his still slightly damp hair fell across his forehead. Lines lingered in his skin from the way his head was tilted and his arms were bent as his hands faffed around with what appeared to be a trinket box. He must’ve reached for it at some point while you were otherwise occupied.

Gold cross dipping underneath the neckline of the vest, the width of his chest seemed to be getting wider the longer you kept your eyes on his reflection. In moments like this you always became hyper aware of the amount of tattoos that were scattered across his body - arms, shoulders and chest. If you were able to let your eyes drop lower, you were sure the ones of his legs would be just as vivid.

But while everything else about him just seemed content in the moment, his eyes were different. They were strong as they held yours. Waiting for something.

And you knew you couldn’t keep his gaze as you let your words leave your throat, albeit with less conviction than you originally thought them.

If you were after a bicker before dinner then he was absolutely going to bite and give you what you wanted. You just knew it.

“You’re not going out in that, are you?”

“‘S there a problem ‘f I am?”

A charged pause.

Harry’s remark was shot out instantly, on yours as fast as a predator was on their prey.

Inhaling deeply through your nose, you looked back at him through the mirror. A slant to his lips as he waited once more.

Gentle raise of his eyebrows. Faint but definitely there. Goading. Knowing you would be so aware of every moment, every twitch with your eye for detail. His eyes shone in a way that he was daring you.

Oh, he was spoiling for a fight. Most definitely.

See, this wasn’t new territory for you and Harry. He knew that it sometimes got on your last nerve in how he opted for a vest to cover his top half as an undershirt but especially when he only wore that as the item of choice and simply slung a suit jacket over the top to complete the outfit.

Like that one time when he attended The Store X The Vinyl Factory's Transformer exhibition and swung by your then rented London townhouse after said event in the small hours only for you to chastise him on the doorstep for how he hadn’t even put on a proper shirt for the evening.

That night he had teased you - “‘least let me in the door before you start dressing me down, darling. Especially considering ‘m halfway there with not putting on a clean shirt an’ everythin’” - in that slow draw that maddeningly managed to warm you through even when you were irritated with it’s orator.

Blinking, you knew you needed to respond but you weren’t sure which route you wanted to take with your tact.

“Not a problem, ‘s just not my favourite.”

“Didn’t realise we’d become tha’ sorta couple,” he paused, his sentence obviously not finished. When your eyes met his again, he continued, “The kind that tells the other what they can and can’t wear, can and can’t do.”

Sighing, you fiddled with your diamond earrings and spoke, “Forget I said anything.”

“No, no,” he spoke clearly, ringless hands rising in defeat. “You don’t like the vest, ‘s fine. Allowed an opinion.”

“Nice to know.”

A suppressed laugh spluttered from Harry’s lips as he pressed them together.

Looking at him again, you watched him wrinkle his nose up at you through the mirror. By now your gaze was flat and you were far from impressed with his taunting.

“Come on,” he encouraged, eyes alight. “‘S have a row.”

“I’d rather not.”

“‘S healthy to tell me to piss off every once in a while, y’know tha’?”

“So, piss off.”

“Ouch,” he dragged the word, playing offended. “Could say it wi’a bit less conviction next time.”

“That’s if we make it to a next time,” you muttered, seeing his smirk. “‘M not doing this.”

He watched the way you snatched at your other earring, your hands quick to try and place it gently to your lobe but in your haste you fell foul of losing the item.

“Shit,” you hissed when the dainty jewellery slipped from your grip and to the wooden floor below with a dull clink.

“Hang on-“

“It’s fine,” you rebutted any chance of his offering to help, swiping for the earring and managing to make good the second time around.

There was tension in the air now as Harry remained quiet while you continued busying yourself, ignoring the bubble of annoyance and unexplained upset simmering within you.

Gently scooping at your necklace next, you fiddled with the clasp of the fine chain and tilted your neck down as you raised your hands and arms to place the necklace onto yourself.

From behind you, Harry nervously chewed at his bottom lip. He knew the outcome wasn’t going to go well as he looked on at your slightly shaking hands struggling to successfully bring the two sides together.

Rather than point out the possibility of ruining the nails that you had endlessly chewed his ear about all afternoon and constantly stuck under his nose to show off; he waited with baited breath, more than willing to step in if required.

It was when he heard the small and soft growl omit from your mouth with sheer frustration that he decided to change tact.

Gone was the trinket box, tossed aimlessly back onto the bed with a soft bounce. His hands gently placed to rest against taut shoulders, Harry leaned down to press his lips to the top of your head. Nose tickled by your hair he muttered into the silky strands, “Let me, darling.”

You froze as you sat in your seat, eyes still slightly lowered from the way you had dropped your head. Frantically blinking as you mulled over how you were going to play your next move.

Harry hummed, noticing that you had gone quiet on him, knowing you wouldn’t want to engage with him just yet considering how soon he had previously provoked. He just had to wait it out a little more.

A slump came to your shoulders at his words, partially irked at how he had been the one to coil your spring - pushing and pressing and prodding - and now he thought he could be the one to so easily offer you release.

“Let me just-,” he spoke more so to himself, cutting himself off, as he scooped your hair into his hands and mumbled soft apologies considering he knew you had spent some time on styling.

When he was happy that your neck was open enough and there wasn’t going to be anything to hinder him with your tresses over one shoulder, he reached for the item.

Harry’s right hand met yours first, his thumb and forefinger easily pinching at the delicate chain that he knew so well having been the person to pick and purchase the item.

Surprised at how easily you gave up the treasure, Harry darted his eyes to your left side and reached for the other side of the fine chain.

“Have you got it?” You were reluctant to let the one side of the necklace go, in fear of losing the pendant that was currently bouncing against your chest from the way you held the jewellery item.

Again, a throaty hum vibrated through Harry’s chest.

“Which idiot chose the finicky clasp?”

“You did,” you outright answered him.

He chuckled in concentration, eyes zoned in on the way his thumbnail pressed at the clasp to hold it down, and his left hand fed itself to the right. “‘S right, I did. Fucking big idiot over ‘ere.”

You then felt the chain gently tickle the back of your neck as Harry let the item go. “But he’s only gone an’ bloody done it.”

Lightly sighing, you pressed your hand to your chest and felt the necklace sitting cooly against your hotter than usual skin. A soft smile at Harry’s choice of words to let you know he had successfully put on the necklace.

Slightly inside your own head as you raised it to sit up straight, you quickly busied yourself with returning items that you had been using to get ready, to their rightful spots.

Behind you, you heard Harry chuckle as he gently dropped himself down to sit on the edge of your side of the bed. He was clearly amused at how you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Ignoring me now? Not even gonna gi’me a thank you?”

If you hadn’t been so stubborn, and focused on the task at hand you would have heard his question and thanked him. However, given your own bloody-mindedness, you never stood a chance.

Learning forward, Harry’s hand reached down to one of the four legs that made up your dressing table pouffe - the one closest to him - and swiftly pulled.

Of course, you squealed. The quick change in motion was enough to cause anyone to omit a noise fit only to dogs hearing due to its pitch.

“‘Ve got yer,” he spoke around a chuckle, enlightened by your reaction as the chair scraped against the flooring and made it so you were virtually sat in his lap. “If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed...”

Sharply, you turned to look at him and pushed at his shoulder. “Hope you’re not implying-“

“Wha’,” his expression was boyishly cheeky as he cut you off with his question, his hand keeping hold of yours that had pushed his shoulder. “What am I implying?”

Nostrils flared as you looked at him, feeling your arm slowly wrap around his neck as he tried to pull you closer once more on the chair. Legs man spread, he managed to slot you in between his thighs and enjoyed the way your soft knees squashed into his inner thigh from how close you now were.

“I’m implying what the proverb is implying,” he smarmily responded, forever having an answer for everything.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” he turned, noting the way your arm was still draped around his neck.

“Shame that,” you commented. “Cause if you were alluding to the other thing then you would’ve really gotten the fight you were looking for.”

Harry’s eyes cut to you from the corner of his vision, his lips now pressed gently against your forearm. “Would I? If that’s the case, I take it back.”

Again your nostrils flared, as you mumbled a veiled threat of, “Swear to god, Harry.”

“So, so easy to wind up-“

Harry’s voice was abruptly cut off when your fingers came into contact with the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled as hard as you could. His only response was to gently graze his teeth to the skin of your arm and the silk of the gown in the tiniest of nips as he ascended to your neck.

“D’yeh know how much I love fighting with you?” He mumbled against your skin, “How much I love doing anything and everything with you?”

“Have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” you swallowed around your dry response, feeling his lips quirk against the shoulder of your silk gown as he gently brushed your hair away once more.

With it falling down your back, you became all too aware of the gape to your coverup, revealing your clavicle and the top of your breast, as Harry’s lips rubbed against where your neck and shoulder met.

Growl-like hum heard from your suitor, you gently pushed your finger through his drying hair. Forcing it in haphazard directions before bringing it back and smoothing it down.

When he showered you with affection like he was currently doing, it was hard to stay mad at him. Which is why you found the direction of conversation so intriguing. What was he trying to achieve here? Whatever it was, he really was going the wrong way about it.

“Know why I love fighting?” He felt you shake your head lightly as he brought you back to him with the question. The rustle of your hair against his was heard prominently in your ears as he now lightly rested his forehead to your temple. “Yea’, you do,” he disagreed with your non-verbal response, tone gritty as he tried to rouse once more.

“‘S cause I love shagging when we’re angry,” he heavily pressed his nose into your cheek, knowing you were watching him through the hooded eyelids regardless of how you wouldn’t fully let your gaze meet his long enough to be suckered in. “How you really dig your nails into my back an’ shoulders when I properly get going - not to mention my arse cheeks - and how it feels when I step under the shower the next morning and wince like a little wuss.”

You laughed breathily, stopping your feelings of joy by biting down on your bottom lip. Laughter however played on your lips, lingering in a soft smile that danced along and up the corners of your mouth.

“Fight me, darling.”

Amused didn’t even cover it as you pulled your head back in a slightly uncomfortable way to look at him. The smoulder of his dilated eyes that were clearly set on what he wanted, they jarred so evidently against his messy hair that looked fit for a toddler who had woken from a heavy nap.

He seemed awfully whiny for a man who was confident with what he wanted. Supposed to be the instigator of an exchange of diverging or opposite views, creating most likely a heated happening. Then again, maybe he was onto something.

Soft frown set in the middle of his brows, his eyes dropped so brazenly down to your lips. A quick swipe of your tongue had them glistening enticingly for him as saliva lingered and caused his groan to get caught in his throat.

Hand against the back of your head, he tilted your face down to his once more and let his mouth sit at the corner of your lips. Your breathing and his had started to become staccato, as anticipation bubbled within you both from your shared close proximity.

“‘M waiting,” you challenged knowing he would rise up to the provocation, as his hand turned you face a tiny amount more so when he stuck his nose against yours, so they would slot perfectly together.

Harry’s vision blurred as he felt your warm breath bounce against his face, licking his own lips now and rolling them into his mouth to take away any dryness.

Hand drawing you to him and mouth about to take your bottom lip, he felt the soft draw back of your head causing his lips to tweak as his breathy laugh mixed within his short and sharp exhalations.

“‘S tha’ how it’s gonna be?“

You fought the way your hooded eyes wanted to close at the gruff tone that laced his question, wanting to marvel in the glow that had started to coat the skin of his face.

“Said you wanted a fight.”

No sooner had the words left your mouth were his lips abruptly upon yours. His hand spread across your entire cheek as your free hand reached for his wrist and tightly gripped. Noses squashed from the force; desperate to have each other.

Harry's lips were fierce and bruising, his body feeling heavier against yours as he rested his other hand against your chair and gave you more of his weight.

For him your smell was everywhere, as your other arm wrapped around his neck and clawed at the fabric of that bloody vest. The sweet of your hair care juxtaposed against the woody florals of your perfume that sensually drew and tied him to you.

Knees knocking together, you felt the way his hand stumbled as it peeled away from the chair and clawed at the silky fabric of your gown. Fingers quickly became frantic as his concentration moved to his hands that lifted fabric and slipped underneath craving the feel of your warm, soft skin.

With his mouth slightly slower and fallen as he was pulled elsewhere, you tried to take the lead as his hands wandered and he explored.

His hands were softer than usual, time away from music and instruments meaning the callouses had faded. Short nails were dull as they clawed, fingertips dancing against your plush thighs as they flattened to the seat and then upwards along your hip, scooping around your back and confidently spreading out just shy of the top of your bum.

God, he loved knowing you were completely naked underneath. How with a quick and sharp tug of his hand, he would have you bare to him.

Small press against your lower back had Harry silently asking you to raise and fall into his lap. You ignored him at first, far too wrapped up in the way he gave you his tongue around his quivering lips that were trying not to smile at the way the two of you were shamelessly necking on and he was managing to get his own way.

Pressing your toes into the patterned antique Persian rug which sat underneath your bed, your body created a break between your thighs and their seat. Harry took advantage of the space without any need for a nudge, his hands curling against the clammier, warm skin as he urged you once more to come to him.

Your knees hit the side of your mattress first, lifting and mounting Harry’s lap and he moaned as he enjoyed your full weight against him. Fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, you felt him squeeze as he started to lower himself down to the bed.

Body laying atop an outfit priced easily in the early thousands, Harry hummed clearly letting you know how pleased he was with himself. This was only solidified by the crack of his hand, as it slapped against you bare bum cheek now on show.

“Can’t believe you’ve got your arse in the air like this,” he rasped, head lifted so he could leave lingering kisses to the hinge of your jaw.

Mouth slightly dropped, you could feel the way his right hand danced against the curve of your cheek and the way it dipped as it met the back of your thigh.

His eyes were on your face, chin soft as he tilted his head down to his chest. You admired him, somehow able to find a stillness woven within a intoxicated, sensual love between the lewdish comments and suggestive wandering hands.

Lips melding to the skin of your cheek, he asked, “Who’re you showing it off to?”

“You, ‘f you want it like that.”

The coolness of the room hit your bare skin even more as Harry roughly pushed up the fabric of your gown up as he palmed your cheeks once more, skin massaged and squeezed between his digits.

Raw groan, he found his voice, “Turn over for me.”

Harry slid himself closer to the side of bed, hands making light work of his socks and his briefs before he turned to throw you a glance over his shoulder.

You had removed your gown, item somewhere now on the floor revealing yourself to him proudly.

As you lay gently on your stomach, the expanse of your bare back on show for him. He greedily let his eyes wander, the curvature of your shoulders and the indentation of your spine line.

The way your right leg was slightly bent creating a crease to your hip and your left leg a little straighter. You certainly gave him plenty to devour with his sight.

He didn’t give it much thought when he joined you back on the bed, his hands pressing into the mattress closer to your head.

Bare fingers caught your attention as you watched his hands scrunch around his expensive dress shirt, the familiar scratching sound music to your ears as it caught against his nails and not yours for once while he threw it to the floor at the bottom end of the bed.

“Doesn’t look like we’re going to make it to tha’ dinner,” he spoke, his words not really warranting an answer. Beside your hips, you could feel his knees as he leaned for the trousers on the other side of you and pushed them out of the way too.

He continued with, “Already late. ‘S no point.”

From the way he spoke you wondered if this was what he had been aiming for all along. To scrap dinner and have his way with you. It wouldn’t have been the first time and definitely not the last.

Eyes already heavy from the deep lull of Harry’s voice, they closed when you felt his lips hit your back, making light work of inhaling you in. His mouth was wet as he reacquainted his lips with your skin, suckling the lower he got.

Nose gently sweeping down, you found yourself dropping your forehead to your forearm giggling from the light tickle, only to sharply cry out as his teeth sunk into the top of your cheek and your head lifted once more.

Your hand reached behind you pressing against his forehead, “Don’t you dare leave a love bite on my bum.”

His lips twitched at your squealed but breathy chastise, tongue laving against the startings of a mark. “Always begrudging me of eating, darling.”

A devilish grin laced his features as you dared to look over your shoulder at him and take in his gaze that owlishly looked at you from behind your curved hip. All you could see were his eyes as your hand gently pushed his head while he pulled your hips upwards with him, lips skimming the backs of your thighs.

“Mm,” he started. “Not everything though, ‘s tha’ right?”

The man simply didn’t want to part from his meal.

“You always did like dessert better.”

There was nothing more Harry loved than when you let him put his face between your legs. But when you let him do it from behind, he couldn’t even explain the difference yet there was one.

Maybe it was the way he could grab and smack your arse, fingers digging into your hips as he got to pull you onto his face when things started to get hot and heavy. That animalistic grab to your hip bone, loins pulled onto his face as he went to town.

Even better when you would push back against him. So caught up in the way he felt that you couldn’t wait any longer. He could talk to you easier this way too, really coax you not only with the feel of his tongue but the words that dripped off it too.

And then there was the possible anticipation of assplay. Tongue always ready and willing to stimulate if it were desired and communicated.

The way his hands massaged you, softly pulling apart your rounded cheeks and opening you to the cool air of your bedroom almost stunned. Your body quickly gathered itself with a warm moan when you felt his warm salvia drip messily down onto your ass and your middle.

Then he was leaning forward - lapping at your skin - lapping you up. Tongue greedy at your cheeks and folds, building his own desires before he actually ate.

This was his starter.

The most feminine gasp exited your open mouth when you felt his mouth land where you needed him the most, somewhat too cautiously for your liking at first but you knew he sometimes liked to play this game. You found yourself wiggling back, Harry’s hands wrapping around and squeezing into your thick thighs welcomingly when he knew you’d caught on.

He hummed, pleased that you had fallen from his meek offerings and gave you more of his mouth.

“There’s my girl.”

“H,” you panted, pressing your forehead onto your forearm.

“Fuck,” he muttered against you, enjoying how you were letting him have a taste. Your sweetness quenching his starved fancy.

You were wet, but he wanted you wetter. Just wet enough so that you were tacky when he tapped himself against you teasingly.

With his eyes closed, Harry opened his mouth wider as he pulled your hips back to his lips. His nails dig into your skin as your hands clenched into the sheets beneath.

He worked slowly against you, tongue licking at your wetness and saliva mixing with your early arousal. Nose buried inside of you as he devoured you in a way that had you thinking he had been wanting you this way for weeks. A little bit rougher, grabbing you to him and not in the way that quickies usually brought. In a way that sex selfishly commanded sometimes.

“God, baby-“ how was it always so- gratifying?

With his eyes closed now as he tried to focus, Harry felt your body shuffle and his own limbs followed after you without restraint. Your bum became slightly raised as you pressed your arms deeper into the mattress due to the way you began to play with yourself.

Your fingers swiped upwards in gentle pulls against your clit, Harry’s mouth barely letting up. He must’ve figured out what you were doing though from your slight change in position as he hummed against your heat, light mutterings that you couldn’t make out.

“‘S tha’ feel good?” he asked, voice hot as he pulled back to bring his focus onto the glide of your fingers against your wet and neglected clit. “Couldn’t wait, wanted to play.”

You knew you were slick, you could feel it but rather than feel embarrassed you found yourself without a care as you pushed yourself back again. His chuckle made you feel on fire, “Not done with me? Still need some more?”

His lips and tongue dove straight back in rather than wait for a verbal answer, feeling the way your legs widened further when he licked in a particular way. The smell and taste of you was everywhere, gleaming against him with a tackiness that was the perfect piece of free memorabilia.

Breathing heavier, you both listened to every small gasp and light moan that was drawn from you. The sound of his lips pulling at you making a heat spread across your chest and down to your core.

Harry knew your reactions like the back of his hand, and was waiting for that one sound that was so sweet and enough to get him to cheekily pull away.

The thought alone had his lips curving into a smile against you, as he felt you starting to clench against his tongue from your joint efforts of pleasure.

“Harry,” you whispered, rushed. The slow burning feeling starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your fingers began to move with that little bit more fervour. “Want you.”

His mouth was away from you and against the skin of your bum cheek not long after, lips messily wiping as he moved them up your back leaving a trail of arousal in his wake as you felt yourself fall flat to the mattress as he mounted you.

Hands pinched into the skin of your back, Harry pressed his pelvis against you.

Feeling him nestled between the cheeks of your bum, caused your eyes to close. He was so full and hard for you, you couldn’t contain the throaty moan that accompanied his grind into the dip of your bum.

“‘M gonna fuck you,” he panted, hands sweeping your hair to one shoulder so his lips can find your skin again. “Want that, hm?”

Your fingers wove into the hair at the nape of his neck, as he craned his head to look at you. His left hand pressed into the bed, holding his entire weight as his right hand reached down for his leaking cock.

“‘S this what you want- how you want it?” He goaded in question again, gently tapping himself against the skin of your bum before he slid himself down and watched as you slightly raised your own hips for him and started to reach behind you to encourage him to press his weight on top of you.

Harry lined himself up, pushing forward and shifting his eyes from his sinking cock and up your back to see your head dipping forward to fall between your shoulders. He knew he’d never grow tired of the welcomed blissful moan of ‘yes’ that always left your lips when he finally gave it to you.

Humming deeply, Harry bit around his smile as he started with shallow, teasing thrusts. A series of strokes that you found frustratingly sexy but knew as ones he wouldn’t be able to keep up due to his own insatiable desires.

He swore, in the least teenage boy way possible, you were always tighter to him like this. Especially if you crossed your legs at your ankles behind him while he pushed into you.

It was usually the position you adopted when you’d let him take you this way, however in the dusk evening he could feel that you had lifted your legs up so your calves were resting against his bum and holding him to you; cutting his shallow thrusting short to press and hold him deeper inside.

As his pelvis flattened against your bum, he gritted his teeth and released a deep noise from the very back of his throat. The sound had you giggling, slightly wiggling your hips from beneath him, the moment quickly halted by one of his hands cupping at your skin.

“Darling, steady,” he warned.

“Come on,” you wiggled again. “Fuck me then.”

Pulling back, Harry nudged forward just as smooth, the intent behind his thrust obvious. Eyes dropped down he enjoyed the bounce of your cheeks from the force of his pelvis.

A content hum left your smiling lips as you jolted from each push of his hips; his grunts of exertion delightfully pleasurable as his hands pressed into the mattress next to your waist.

Thrust measured - slow, hard and deep - knowing what they wanted and needed. How to get it too. Undulating and determined.

Harry’s eyes closed as he felt you squeeze him, your legs dropping away from the cheeks of his clenching arse and down to the bed with a soft bounce. You moved again and he followed, legs opening wider against the mattress beneath you both.

The way your face was now half buried into the sheets, muffling your moans that were usually hot against his ear and coaxing him to places he was still dumbfounded he was able reach let alone find.

Teeth gritted once more, he could feel the tightness in his limbs and lower back. The work of his hips was unyielding but you were opening up to him, only making him want to continue the steady rhythm. To push and pull. To chase.

And it was enough. It was nice. Simmering. And if you opened your legs just that little bit wider you could rub yourself against the sheets but you wanted to give as good as you could get. Being engulfed wasn’t going to give you that.

“Give it to me,” you requested, “Harder, baby.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Really need it, don’t yer?”

He pulled you upwards, hands at the curve of your waist so his fingers indented and left lighter marks against your skin from the pressure.

Now on your knees he could really have his way with you.

Soon the sound of your skin slapping together only started to add to the growing fire in the pit of his stomach and yours. The sound of it so obscene but so welcomed to both your ears.

Harry’s eyes raked over your naked body, the pert cheeks of your arse bouncing enticingly against his hips, to the tops of your fingers that were fisting tightly into your bedsheets. Knuckles so prominent due to the unrelenting grip.

He had noticed that your body was on its way to folding in on itself, arms stretching above your head and hands finding purchase on your plush bed pillows closer to the top of the bed that had been reached and pulled for by your own lack of knowing what to do with your hands.

“D’ya love me?”

His question was so gritty. Throat dry from his heavy breathing. You found yourself collapsing again.

Your body, in its lethargy, started to curl up into itself with hands pressed down and your legs bent as your arse begins to bob more against him rather than thrust itself back.

“Said d’ya love me.”

He was sharp with his thrust.

“So much-“

It was wet and it was gasped. Low moan as he cracked his hand against your cheek.

“‘S tha’ the sex talkin’,” he heaved goadingly, and you knew he was smiling. It wasn’t the sex talking, but it could be. Both so taken by the waves of pleasure that could easily sway even the most sound of minds.

You whined into your arm from his smarmy laugh, a writhe to your hips as Harry licked at his thumb and pressed it enticing against your arse. Gentle rubs had you gasping his name and pressing back, as his thumb slid down to collect your arousal that was sat coating your outer walls and his cock each time he retreated.

As you became more excited, his thumb pressed against you with a bit more pressure, gently popping inside and sitting there.

“Harry,” you whined, the loudest you could around biting your lips, a soft frown forming against your brow at the pleasurable intrusion.

“You fuckin’ love it,” he growled, watching as you pushed back against his next thrust. “You dirty mare.”

Heavy frown against your brow, you dropped your head onto your forearm once more and felt yourself start to clench around him. “Yea’,” he muttered to himself, “You’re coming.”

Nodding your head against your forearm, you felt his free hand rest onto yours that was pushed above your head. He pressed down, fingers slotting through yours as he grunted in time with his harder thrusts into you.

With shaking thighs and aching knees, you feel your mouth fall as his teeth grazed over your ear and his heavy pants warmed your already perspiring cheeks.

“Don’t fight me,” he pleaded. “‘S nice to give in.”

His head was heavy against your temple, your hair messily in your face. You felt your expression fall as you teetered, starting to lean slightly more to one side. He was nodding, you didn’t know who to but you knew what about and you found yourself craving his narration of whispered ‘yeses’ but instead you were both overcome and the best he can do was huskily groan to encourage you.

Suddenly it tipped and your limbs started to shake as you pressed back against him both in want of more but more so to ground yourself so you didn’t collapse. He stuttered from your vigour but held you there, feeling you helplessly writhe and mercilessly squeeze around him. His cock grinding and dipping into you, drawing out each tremor, desperately seeking its own sexual gratification.

Your other hand was wrapped around his face, fingers digging into the back of his neck and whispering begs for him to come inside of you. Pleas of how you want him to give it to you. Fill you up.

And you were lewd because sometimes that was how he liked it.

Such a pretty face and pretty mouth - yours - speaking to him in such a way. Admonishment was forgotten. Who needed or cared for it when his balls were pulling up tight with each slap against you.

And then he collapsed against you. His thighs roughly spread you as he clenched and groaned deeply - guttural - giving you everything he had.

Blood rushed around his ears as he shuddered and shook, the force of his orgasm causing his hips to continue with little pushes just to be sure he was done. Lost to himself, the silence and his sensitivity.

He roused to your dirty snicker, one of disbelief. Right hand wrapping behind to feel for his arse cheek and digging your nails there, wanting to keep him deep inside, or just behind you for long enough to feel him pressed flaccid and wet against your cheeks.

The filthy reminder caused you to flush, as Harry shuffled behind you, lips seeking out your clammy skin.

“Make you mad more often, ‘f tha’s my private penance.”

His words were muffled, spoken into your shoulder as his hands soothed and massaged over your joints in preparation for the aching reminders tomorrow.

And the vest was still on.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry fluff #harry x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry fic #my writing

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Note

Hi! I saw requests were open so I have one :] can you do a levi x marley nurse reader? Maybe she meets him when the scouts are undercover and they meet again when she finds out he's from Paradis? But the reader still helps Levi and both gain feelings with each other over time. Thank you and sorry this is specific sounding 😅💕

“i’d become a traitor just to be with you”

pairing: levi ackerman x female reader

cw: fluff, swearing

word count: 2400+

a/n: i’m so sorry for this coming out so late, idk why i’ve been unmotivated to write requests, but i swear all i have now is requests and my event on my list, also yeah check my 1k event out its the pinned post

summary: in which you’re a marley nurse having befriended levi without knowing his identity with the raid of liberio dawning on the survey corps having been followed by you, levi’s truth is revealed and a confession of your own, maybe there is happiness for you two

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

The sound of the bells rang through the city, the medical facility had gotten their fair share of injuries after the win against the Mid-East a couple weeks ago. You had helped the injured to beds, wrapping the bandages around their blood-filled scars, after a long day of helping you were finally able to leave, not to your home, however. You stood against the brick wall, your nurse’s uniform clinging onto you, having seen the injured Eldians, the way the Marleyan soldiers shouted and taunted the weak made you sick to the stomach.

“Y/n.” The familiar voice came from the side, his dull eyes softer at the sight of how you had waited for him. “You waited.”

“I wasn’t going to just leave you.” You had met the man a few weeks back, he'd often come past the medical facility and had caught your eye, even having asked your name. He was sweet with his black undercut and suit, handsome even. But those eyes, those emotionless eyes had a past, you didn't know what it was, but you wanted to know.

He had asked you to go on a walk with him, even after every day of seeing the man he wanted to spend alone time together. By being an Eldian yourself you understood the pains of being one but being subjected by the Marleyans weren’t that bad, well that’s what you’d repeatedly say. It was all a lie, your parents having been sent to Paradis, having been sent to their deaths, sent to become titans.

The man put his hand out, you softly laced your fingers in his, for such a mysterious man his little touches the past weeks had grown. Now seeing him almost every day, this time it felt different, it felt like he was fearful. “The festivals tomorrow.” You smile out trying to make conversation with him.

His grip tightened as he looked down at your smaller figure, “I heard, you going?”

“Yeah, Falco that boy I told you about invited me to tag along with him and his friends.” You smiled out, in a matter of minutes the hand that had encased your own fell, you felt lonely almost. It was bad enough to have fallen for a man so mysterious, you never did know why he came to the medical facility. He was always so quiet yet spoke so much but now it seemed he was distant for another reason.

“You should stay home tomorrow.” You tilted your head in confusion, it wasn't an event that you could really miss. Having promised Falco that you'd go after he'd come to visit the long-haired man.

“Oh, I was going to invite you to come along.” You let out a heavy breath, you had thought something could come between the two of you. The long looks he’d give you as you tended to patients he looked down into the dark, taking a corner as you followed. You didn't even realise where you were going until it was just the two of you into a narrow alleyway.

He stops in his tracks looking at you, he doesn't meet your gaze, “get out of Liberio.”

“Levi.” You were even more confused than before, “what’s going on?”

He takes a few steps back, continuing to think about his choice right now. He knew from the first day he had met you, he needed to stay as far away as possible. He saw how you came up to him with that smile, oh god the smile that melted his heart. For the first time in years he had smiled back, a genuine smile at the way you helped the Eldians, how you secured their bandages, talked to the dying. How could he have not liked you and now the threat of you dying tomorrow. The threat that something would happen stayed with him until he met your worried gaze.

Your eyes glossed over, confusion filling you, the distance between the two of you making it harder to even see him properly. You remembered the conversation from this morning, how he had come up to you with haste.

“Hey Levi, this is earlier than usual?” You smiled brightly, the papers in your hand as you let him follow you around. His steps felt too cautious like he had more to say but couldn't instead he kept silent until your gaze fully went onto the black-haired boy.

He looks down not meeting your gaze, “can we meet after you finish work?”

“Umm sure why?” You pass the papers to the other nurses, he looks at how perfect you looked, how your hair set perfectly across your face.

Looking out the window, he notices the boy he had known you have called Falco run off with a letter. Before turning back to face you, “I just need to talk to you.”

“Okay I finish at 9.” He nods taking steps away.

How had you not realised, the way he walked away without even a goodbye. The way he hadn't cared to ask for your day, was this the end of whatever you could call this, was it even a friendship.

“Levi…” You repeated his name waiting for a response, he looked down at you wary of what to say. If he should even tell you, he knew your feelings to those in Paradis how your parents had been sent there. How you didn’t have the same hatred as the others but were wary instead. Would that wariness become something more, would it become disgust for him?

“Forget me.” He mutters about to walk away, walk out of your life. He hoped you’d listen to his words and hoped that you wouldn't go to the festival tomorrow.

You watched him walk away, how could he do this? Leave without an explanation, how could he say the simple two words, forget me you weren't some animal that could forget someone who had impacted your life. You stood there in silence watching as his figure disappeared, you heard the sadness that washed over you and did something you might have regretted.

Following the man, you wanted a reason at least. A reason for this coming out tonight, what had changed and what was so special about the festival, it was supposed to be joyous seeing the stalls with your friends. But the way he spoke, the way he wanted you to not go, it had an undertone of worry, he knew more than he was letting off.

You watched him walking into one of the abandoned buildings, the way he opened the door as if he’d done it a million times. You crept past going to the windows, you looked through, glad that the curtains were closed, and a gap was evident. Watching how Levi sat on the chair surrounded by other men and women, one with glasses looking at the man with confusion. There was talking, quiet talking until the woman spoke loudly making everyone shudder.

“Eren’s letters have told us what’s going on?” She paused; your fingers perched on top of the window sill. It was intrusive, but he left you with nothing, you deserved something. Well that's what you kept saying to yourself. The question at hand was who was this Eren, you only knew one Eren and that was the man who was with Falco. The memory of Falco with a letter sprung into your mind. It couldn't be, there couldn't be a link between these people and the injured man. “The Warhammer titan will be there tomorrow, that’s when we strike.”

“Are we sure Eren will be able to get Reiner?” A man spoke with long brown hair, he was tall, much taller than Levi and stood leaning against the wall.

“He better.” Is all Levi said, all conversation regarding Eren’s capability had ended and had turned to the plan at hand. Your mind going through what you had just heard, what was there interest in the Warhammer titan, or even worse how did they know Reiner?

The woman continued talking, having been in your own mind you heard the last bit, a shock running through your veins, “...we bring Eren back to Paradise.”

You clamped your hand to your mouth, falling against the wall in shock. Paradis, they said Paradis, Levi, he couldn’t be, but he was. Your Levi, the man who was always wary about his past, was always dismissing your questions of his past was from Paradis and even worse that means he was the Levi Ackerman that Porco had spoken about. Trying to suppress the worry that flew over you, you looked down to the soil, the way you breathed heavily against your palm and then the sound of a gun to your head.

“Who the hell are you?” It was the same boy from inside, you hadn't realised he had come outside, but with the gun cocked to your skull. You could barely speak, “Hanje, Levi.”

At the sound of the boys shout the two came out, Levi’s eyes widening at the sight of you on the ground. The sight of fear that ran through you, he knew you heard it all and all he could think about was if you wanted him to die. “Put the gun down Jean.” Jean confusingly complied as Levi stepped towards you, those inside having come to see what the commotion was.

“Y/n.” Levi bent down to meet your face, you refused to make eye contact.

Hanje spoke aloud, “you know her?”

He ignored the question, trying to meet your eyes, “Y/n…”

“You could’ve told me.” It was a whisper, but a shock filled him at your voice, “why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

You didn't care if he was from Paradis, you hated the Marleyans, all of them for what they did to your parents. Both sides were the same, but meeting someone actually from Paradis, falling for someone from Paradis how could you ever join the Marleyans now.

“Your people hate us.” He was blunt about it which was the obvious answer.

You looked at his face, “I fucking hate you…” His face fell, “for not telling me, Levi after everything I told you about with my parents, you really think I’d ever be on Marley’s side.”

He hadn't thought of that, only thinking that the sides had been determined. He hadn’t meant to come and see you every day for weeks, he hadn’t meant to ask about your day and your past. He hadn’t meant to fall for you, but he did and you, you stared at him with all the love you had.

“Is nobody going to explain what’s happening, or are we shooting her?” Levi glared at Jean as you looked down at your scathed fingers.

Helping you up, you looked at the group from Paradis, your history books had spoken about the devils beyond the sea but looking at the men and women. Those at home felt more devilish than these people, “this is Y/n, she works at the hospital Eren’s at.” So the Eren at your hospital was the Eren Yeager with the truths of how you both knew each other coming out.

One question stayed on everybody's minds, “can we trust her?” Hanje spoke what everybody was thinking.

Levi looked at you, his hand skimming your fingers that were to the side of your body, “i had nobody…” You turn back to Levi, meeting his eyes for the first time this night, “you can trust me.”

“How can we trust her word?” Jean questioned looking at the closeness between you and Levi.

Levi had be relieved but needed to settle the peace some way, “i trust her and she can help us, she’s a nurse.”

“One wrong move and we’ll take her hostage.” Hanje spoke happily, you didn't know if it was out of her wanting to experiment on you or she was always this happy but whatever it was you didn’t dare say another word.

The group had dispersed back into the abandoned building. Levi looked at you with a soft look, “let me walk you home.”

You nod, as he puts his hand out, taking it you smile at him. It was soft and Levi had thought it to be the last one he’d get from you. “We intend to go home afterwards.”

“Oh…” You trail off.

“If you really have nobody than you could come with us?” Your eyes light up at the sound of his words, he was wary of your acceptance, wary that his confession was all for nothing.

“Really? You’d want me to come with you.”

He looked up into the dark sky, home had been a faraway place. But in this moment with you he felt at home, after the losses he’d experienced, he knew he had met someone special. He had to keep you by his side even if his prior words were to keep you safe, he could keep you safe in Paradis. “Levi, I don't have anybody here.”

He doesn't question it, his grip tightening, taking you to your house, he had spent countless times dropping you home. But this time, the walk seemed different, the questions running through his head, “why?”

“Why what?” You stepped closer to your house door, the last time you’d see it in its glory before the destruction of tomorrow occurred.

He looked at you, “why are you helping us?”

“You…” You trail off, opening the door as you walk inside, Levi following and shutting the door behind him. He had never seen the inside of your place, the photo frames across the mantel piece, the books lying across the room. “I’d become a traitor just to be with you.”

Your words got him out of his gaze, he watched how you started around the place, it was never home. You knew what home was and he stood directly in front of you, he walked towards you, eyes becoming softer before he brought his hand to your cheek, “I’ll come and get you tomorrow morning.”

You nod his hand still on your cheek, he looks down at your lips watching you lick them before bringing your face to his own. His warm lips against your own, a softness coming from the kiss, before your hands went to his hair bringing him down to your height, making the kiss faster, filled with love and lust built up from the weeks. His hands moved to cup your face, his tongue gliding across your tongue, the sounds of your moans filled the room. His body was comfortable, was home and you were never going to let that go.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac

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littlenymphie · 3 years

Text

♡o. 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 .o♡

. ˚♡ ⋆｡˚ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞 ˚ ｡⋆ ♡˚ .

♡ pairing. zendaya coleman x f. reader

♡︎ summary. your best friend zendaya takes you out on a special but “strictly platonic” date for your birthday.

♡ drabble. 668 wc || fluff || 2nd pov

♡ warnings. sfw. wlw. amateur poetry. briefly implied homophobia. very sappy sapphics. REPOST.

♡︎ author’s note. happy pride month, my lovelies!!! i wrote this fic a long time ago during my peak of simping for zendaya. i think i posted it around 2017 on my now deactivated account, which is why added that warning to be safe. anyways, enjoy this little fluffy ficlet!!!

♡ psa. 1) i do not authorize this work to be reposted, republished, or plagiarized. if you see this work on another platform under a different handle than mine, please contact me. 2) i do not authorize any minor to interact with this post. my blog is inherently nsfw, thus no minor is welcomed even on sfw posts.

The stars blink through the dark clouds like specks of light amongst a blanket of darkness. The sight soothes you, or more accurately, her arms wrapped around you do.

She lies next to you, inches away. Her breath is hot on your neck as she pulls you closer. You feel her fingers tracing patterns on your bare arm. Your breath hitches.

“Z?”

“Hmm?”

You look up at her, placing your chin on her shoulder. Your eyes flicker to her lips but are quick to meet her gaze. “Why did you bring me here?”

“It’s your birthday present, doofus.” She rolls her eyes.

“But you already gave me a present,” you say. It is a book of poems you were dying to have, also practically impossible to find, but she has found it. And even that isn’t enough. She wrote little poems herself in each blank page, making your heart flutter with each word.

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔, // 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚.

“Do you like it?” she whispers, biting her lip.

“Zendaya…” You sigh, eyes scanning her face, taking in every detail of her beauty, her lips, her brown eyes, her long lashes, and her blush, everything… Your voice lowers to barely a whisper, yet your proximity to her lets her hear you loud and clear. “I absolutely loved it. Every bit of it. Your poems were better…”

She giggled. “For a second I was scared that you’d think I was ruining the book by writing on it.”

You inched closer. Both of your lips are millimeters apart. “They made it better.”

𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 // 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒗𝒆.

“Y/N…The meteor shower, that you’ve been dying to see, is about to start.” Zendaya frowned a bit when she saw how your gaze did not leave hers.

“I’m dying to do something else.”

𝑩𝒖𝒕, 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆, // 𝑨𝒔 𝒂 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆

Her lips crash onto yours.

She cups your face delicately. Her mouth moves slowly and gently against yours, eliciting small moans from you. Your hands roam her figure, clutching her hips and pulling her as close as she can be. Breaths mix and hearts beat fast and skins burn. A shudder runs through your spine as her finges card through your hair and pull. Each touch leaves you either shuddering or burning and either way it’s heavenly. Her body pressed against yours. Heavenly. There’s no need to regard the meteor shower shining in the sky as you can feel it fly under your skin and make your stomach churn.

You break apart to catch a breath.

Zendaya’s eyes regard you intently.

“Be my girlfriend.” It is a plea that rolls of her lips in depseration. Her glazed eyes are scanning you, scrutinizing your reaction, which is plain shock and a large grin.

But your grin morphs into a frown. You crawl off from her, starring at the stars. The meteors are long gone.

“Z…” It is a sigh that plants hooks into your skin and pulls out the worries that are buried underneath. She knows. What about your parents? What about her fans? Her job? All of that fuels the fear that has hold both of you back for so, so long.

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 // 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔

“Y/N…” Her voice trembles softly. “We can deal with it.”

You look at her.

The world stills in silence. Expectant.

Her eyes, pleading and loving, bore into your mind. The stare sears itself into your memories. You wonder whether it would be the same one you would meet once you reach the end of the aisle.

“Okay.”

Her lips crack a grin, and she’s laughing, and you’re giggling. Sloppy and haste kisses are exchanged. And it’s all you want. It’s all you need.

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓, // 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐, 𝒔𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓?

#zendaya x reader #zendaya coleman x reader #zendaya x y/n #zendaya x you #zendaya imagine #athiawrites

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jincherie · 4 years

Text

sunshine riptide | ot7

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⊙ — pairing: ot7 x reader ⊙ — genre: hybrid au, fluff, comfort, found family, ac inspired ⊙ — wc: 13.8k+ ⊙ — warnings: oc has an almost/light anxiety attack towards the end. there is no explicitly mentioned trigger and it isn’t dwelled on for long, but better to let u guys know! ⊙ — notes: here it is! it’s soft, and warm, and I hope that it can be something to cheer up a little bit those who aren’t having such a good day. i love u all, and I hope you like this piece :) to the commissioner, thank you for allowing me to write this and I truly hope it helps you feel even just a little bit better! <3

Moving to this island whose inhabitants are mostly hybrids was a bit of an impulse decision, something you did with empty pockets barely a cent to your name. Thanks to the kindness of the island’s ‘mayor’ you have a place to stay, the last spare room in a sharehouse with seven hybrids, and for three months he will pay your rent in exchange for you to work in his shop until you are back on your feet. It’s a sweet deal, but when you begin to get along better than expected with your housemates and the deadline for your departure looms ever closer, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to make yourself leave when the time comes.

— posted; 06.09.2020 | masterlist

“So in exchange for three months paid stay on the island while you get back on your feet, you will work part-time at the Rabbits Den three days a week, and man the desk in the Resident Services Building on Sundays. Is that okay to you?”

You nod eagerly, the ordeal seeming too good to be true and something you’re afraid will be retracted if you don’t act with haste. Mr Bang returns your motion with a little less fervour, the same kind look never leaving his face.

“Perfect, it’s settled then! We’re glad to have you with us, y/n.”

Something lifts from your chest in that moment, as though you’d been walking beneath the cover of a lead blanket and it has finally slipped from your shoulders. You feel a little breathless, and you know the grin that slips onto your face is stupidly wide. Embarrassingly, you feel salty pricks at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you so much,” you say, and you mean it. It hadn’t exactly been a well thought out plan, moving here with nothing to your name but your most basic possessions, but you’d just needed to escape and start anew and this… this had been the first opportunity you’d seen. The best opportunity you’d seen. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, young lady.” Mr Bang’s expression grows even softer, if possible. “This is a place people come to find refuge, and happiness. You’re welcome here.”

You clear your throat, turning your head to the side and pretending that you need to cough so he doesn’t see the tear that slips out. You have a feeling he knows, though, as you turn back and find him smiling at you, floppy rabbit ears framing his round face. He reaches out, patting you on the shoulder.

“Now, lets find you a room for the night. I’ll send word to the house I have in mind and make sure they have it nice and tidy before your arrival tomorrow. Sound good?”

It hits you only now how tired you are, more emotionally exhausted than anything, and nod while allowing him to lead you down the hall. That does sound good, actually. That sounds amazing.

O – O – O

You’d arrived on this island in the early hours of the morning yesterday, the late-night ferry the only one that runs to this island on the outskirts of the archipelago. It’s likely due to the fact that the captain is a nocturnal hybrid, and hence prefers to run his business under the cover of night. You hadn’t been able to sleep on the trip over, so when Mr Bang had shown you to the room he was happy to lend you for the night, despite it being barely ten o’clock in the morning you’d passed out the second your head hit the pillow. It was more of a nap than anything, but you suspect that the events of the past few months all caught up to you at once because you woke only for dinner and then fell asleep once more. Mr Bang offered no judgement, and simply left a note instructing you where the bathroom is and where you could find towels so that you could freshen up once you awoke. He also left you a coffee bun in a container, since you’d missed the afternoon tea he held the day before.

You hadn’t even been on this island a day and already the kindness of one of the residents was almost bringing you to tears.

Due to the fact that you’d slept far too early, you end up waking up at an ungodly hour the next day, the day you are meant to be moving in to the sharehouse that Mr Bang told you about. Laying in the bed, nestled in the warmth of the covers and watching as the suns rays slowly begin to stain the ceiling and the curtains in rich marigold, you do your best to get yourself together. You can breathe easy now, any anxiety you’d felt previous now nothing more than an echo in your chest. You feel refreshed, and not just from the ridiculous amount of sleep you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours. There are of course some nerves pertaining to meeting your new housemates, but it’s manageable. You have faith that everything will turn out well. It’s a good feeling.

Mr Bang is kind enough to offer you breakfast, and likely would have pushed you to stay for lunch had you not shown up down the stairs with your baggage already in tow. So begrudgingly, he allows you to head on your way, informing you that your new housemates knew of your arrival and had endeavoured to tidy up as much as possible. You thought it was a little funny he was telling you that—just how messy is the house usually?—but he simply shook his head with a smile that told you the answer would come soon enough.

The island isn’t big, but it most definitely isn’t small. The sun is warm and the air cool with a tinge of salt and sea trailing along the breeze, and the path you walk along that skirts the beach is peppered with sand and the odd shell. It makes you happier than anticipated, because just being out here makes you feel so free. Mr Bang told you that the house where you will be staying is on the other side of the island, past the little cluster of shops and small businesses and perched at the edge of the sand, backing onto a river that flows into the ocean and skirted on one side by a small cliff.

“It’s their own little alcove,” Mr Bang had snorted, a mixture of fondness and amusement evident on his features. “They get up to more trouble than I can keep track of over there, but they’re good boys.”

Ah, that’s right. You’d almost forgotten; your new housemates are a bunch of boys. You hope that Mr Bang is right about their character and you won’t be living in discomfort for the next three months.

The path wound and curved a bit, following the edge of the island, and before long you were walking through a section of light forestry. You suspected the house would be on the other side, and were in the midst of thinking just what it would look like when a small squeak! catches your attention and you halt, almost dropping your bag.

It’s silent, save for the way the breeze caresses the leaves around you. You peer around, eyes unable to spot anything in the foliage. Did you imagine it? It’s a little early in your stay to be going crazy. Hesitantly, you adjust your grip on your bag and resume your trek.

Squeak! S-squeeeak!

No, you definitely heard that. You freeze, having gotten a better sense of where the sound is coming from now and turning towards a large tree smothered in vines of varying thickness and clinginess. For a moment, you don’t see anything, eyes squinting hard—it’s like one of those I spy books you used to rave about as a kid— and just when you think you might be looking in the wrong place, you catch movement.

There, in a cluster of the vines dangling from one of the tree’s thicker limbs, is a tiny creature, all tangled up and squeaking in distress.

“Oh my goodness,” you drop your bag, immediately moving closer. “Poor thing—hold on just a second, bub. I’ll get you out. Promise not to bite me?”

The creature offers a squeak and logically you know it isn’t answering your request, but you pretend it is anyway. Carefully stepping over plants and twigs, thanking past you for wearing more practical boots, you reach where the creature is stuck, dangling just below eye level.

The vines it has managed to get all tangled up in aren’t particularly thick, but there are a lot of them, and it has managed to get a few of its limbs stuck in place. Carefully, you snap a few of the more central ones and ease the tiny thing out, getting a better view of it the more you pull from its body. It’s squeaking all the while, though with much less distress and more of an energy that simply feels chatty. It makes you smile.

“There you go,” you murmur, cradling the tiny baby in your palms and cooing, trying to calm the heartbeat and hurried breaths you can feel racing against your skin. You stroke along its back as lightly as you can manage. “Oh, you’re a little sugar glider! You’re so pretty, such a cutie. Look at your markings, wow… so pretty.”

Almost as though it can understand your praise and is basking in it, it flicks its bushy tail and rolls in your palm, like a cat rubbing against something with its cheek except this little glider is doing it with its whole body. It’s awfully friendly, you note. Perhaps much of the wildlife here is more peacefully accustomed to human and hybrid activity.

“Okay, you’re free now. I’ll stop ogling at you and let you go,” you say, holding your hands up to a part of the tree that isn’t covered in vines lest there be a repeat of the earlier situation. The sugar glider merely blinks, eyes still on you, and doesn’t move. Brows drawn in confusion, you move your hands closer to the tree, “Well, aren’t you going to—oh!”

Faster than you can react, the little thing darts from your hands, leaping to your bicep and scurrying up with tiny claws in your shirt to your shoulder. Once at its apparent destination, it rushes to the crook of your neck and makes itself at home, nestling against you and securing itself with its tail partway around the back of your neck and its little paws clutching your shirt edge. You giggle, still in shock and trying not to jostle it off as you fight the ticklish sensation.

“Okay. I guess you can come with me. I’m not sure if you can stay the whole while, but I’m sure it will be okay while I walk.”

So off you go, bending and retrieving your bag carefully so you don’t dislodge your tiny new companion. You’ve seen a bit of sugar gliders, but the way this one is acting is quite peculiar. If it sticks around until you arrive at the house, you’d love to snap a quick picture because it really is so pretty, so cute.

The trip is faster than anticipated, now there is something else to occupy your thoughts. Before you know it you’re out of the forestry and approaching a large, modern three storey building that is probably just a few yards short of a mansion, nestled between the ocean, the river, and a short cliff-face just barely higher than the roof. This is the place for sure.

The little glider seems to perk up, the closer you get, something that surprises you since it was so quiet you thought it was asleep. With a soft noise, it grabs onto your hair with tiny paws and scurries to the top of your head, likely making a mess of it in the process but it’s so cute you can’t bring yourself to mind. At least it will be an interesting first impression.

As you approach the front door, you think you see movement in one of the windows on the ground floor. You almost dismiss it as you reach the eve, until you catch the hurried patter of feet against hardwood from beyond the door.

You barely manage to blink before the door is flying open, a man with raven curls and two fluffy russet ears peeking between the locks presenting you with the biggest grin you have ever seen on anyone’s face. It’s boyish and cute, a direct contrast to the mature, sculpted features of his face.

“Hello!” he says, and you catch sight of a long, fluffy russet tail whipping behind him and betraying his excitement—not that he was doing much to hide it. “You must be the new roomie! It’s nice to meet you! We’ve been waiting all morning, and one of us actually went to pick you up but… I’m not sure where he is.”

You’re a little overwhelmed but easily recover when he simply keeps looking at you so happily, returning the man’s bright smile. There’s rustling in your hair at the back of your head but you ignore it, adjusting your grasp on your bag. “Ah, thank you. I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

The man pulls back, a sheepish look on his face that accompanies a light flush in his cheeks. “Oh, right. I’m Taehyung. Sorry. My hyungs tell me I tend to get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

You keep the smile on your face. “That’s okay, we got there in the end. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung brightens, tail curling happily behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted from a voice to the side.

“Are you going to make our poor new housemate wait outside all day, Tae?”

The light blush colouring Taehyung’s cheeks deepens, a sheepish laugh escaping. “No. I was just about to invite her in!”

He steps back and reveals the person behind him who had spoken, a tall man with dimples and silvery hair that did little to conceal the large, rounded grey ears atop his head. He seems a little awkward in his stance, like he has more body than he knows what to do with, but still extends an arm in greeting with a kind smile. “y/n, is it? Welcome, please come in. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us, however brief. We’re happy to have you.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry! If you cry now you can never show your face here again. You clear your throat, returning his smile as you step inside and out of the sun, the difference in temperature against your skin immediate. “Thank you, I really appreciate your generosity in letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung snorts, “Namjoon-hyung has been saying for months we should find someone to fill the spare room, and now you show up on our doorstep! It’s perfect.”

The taller, who Taehyung had referenced as Namjoon, seems a little bashful, his cheeks heating. Does everyone in this house blush so easily? You hope it’s not contagious.

There is movement in your hair again, the glider apparently needing to breathe, and you have your mouth open ready to explain when Namjoon beats you to it.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Jimin already!”

What?

The glider leaps from your head and onto Taehyung’s outstretched arm, climbing to his head before leaping from that too and gliding through the air, all the way around the corner. There is a small clutter, the sound of a light swearword entering the air, and then the ever-familiar patter of feet against hardwood. Another boy rounds the corner, ashy-blond hair tousled and parted by two small grey ears, bushy tail curling behind him.

He skids to a stop in front of you, dipping in a brief bow before rising and shooting you a bright smile. “Hello! Thank you for helping me! I’m Jimin, welcome home!”

It takes all of your willpower to keep the happy tears at bay as you tilt your head back and laugh, already feeling lighter than you ever remember feeling before.

O – O – O

Your next introductions to the hybrids you will be sharing your home with for the next three months go much smoother and without as many surprises as the last ones. Jimin, who seems to have warmed up to you quickly, was more than happy to take you on a tour of the house and to go through introductions while he was at it. He happily told you who was what hybrid as well, without you asking. You figured that he realised your underperforming human nose wouldn’t be able to tell, so he took the initiative and you’re thankful for it, because you were curious.

The oldest resident of the house is Seokjin, a red-panda hybrid who goes on a spree of stress-baking every time exam season rolls around. Most of the hybrids study online, as you learnt from Jimin’s excited chattering. The second you met Jin, as he preferred to be called, you were stunned at how handsome he was. Of course, any awe that rooted you to the spot quickly dissipated as he said a joke so painfully funny it left you with whiplash between the urge to roll your eyes and guffaw. You like him, though. He’s nice.

You quickly discover that all the inhabitants of this house are, though. Yoongi is the second oldest and a squirrel glider hybrid—something Jimin said he found funny since he was closest to Jimin, a sugar glider, and Hoseok, the third oldest and a sunny squirrel hybrid. He giggled as he told you, and you couldn’t hide your own smile even as Yoongi’s ear had flicked and he’d shot the two of you a suspicious look. The little fun fact Jimin had told you about Yoongi had taken you by surprise; he remotely operates the island’s radio, many of the tunes ones he has created himself. Often, if there is a festival, he will volunteer his time to work the music jobs there, too. Apparently Namjoon also pitches in, and Hoseok when he has free time outside of the classes he teaches on the other side of the island.

Hoseok is a dancer, Jimin had gushed, and while he teaches at the school part time, he also volunteers time outside of that to hold dance classes for the kids. Jimin told you that he joins occasionally, but less often lately since his workload for university has increased. He did tell you, though, that the youngest of the house had all but taken his place, his youthful heart at home mucking around with kids and helping them learn.

Jungkook is his name, and Jimin informed you with a very fond and very amused look that he is rather shy, so you might not see him for a few days. Apparently it had been uttered just loud enough for the hybrid in question to catch it though, because there was a tumbling sound from the floor above and a series of stomping footsteps. A head of long, wavy inky hair had popped over the railing, grey ears pinned back as a baby-faced boy delivered a glare to the blonde to your side.

“Hyung! That’s not true! I’m not too shy to even introduce myself!” he had defended himself avidly, red-faced and huffy. When his eyes turned to you, mouth open to follow through on his words, he abruptly shrank and all that escaped was a squeak. It took him a moment to conjure speech once more, and this time he was noticeably less bold. “I’m—I’m Jungkook! It’s nice to meet you! I have to go now! Goodbye!”

And then he was gone, and so concluded your final introduction to the residents you had yet to meet. You thought you had a good feeling when you first arrived, but now that you’ve met everyone and everything feels that bit more real, you find yourself thinking…

It’s a really good feeling.

O – O – O

“It’s not what it looks like!”

You raise a brow, book in hand as you stand at the edge of the sand bank where green bleeds into gold. Against your heels is cool grass, and your toes are dipped in the gentle warmth of the sand. Namjoon sits in front of you, beneath a tree protruding from the dune, with a bundle of leaves in his hand and a guilty look in his face.

“Isn’t eucalyptus toxic to humans and hybrids?”

“I’m not eating it!” Namjoon waves his hands in a frantic bid to assure you, eyes wide, and almost drops the leaves in question. His large, grey ears flick in his distress. “I was just… I know I can’t eat it but it smells so good… I was just sniffing it. It calms me.”

You let out a light laugh, walking closer and plopping down on the sand beside him, beneath the generous shade the tree offers. The sea breeze is kind and cools your skin where it smarts from the sun, tickling your neck and manipulating your hair into a tumbleweed. Namjoon snorts, helping you get it back in order.

“No judgement,” you say, crossing your legs and placing your book in your lap for the meantime. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have to take you to a hospital, because I do not know where to find one on this island.”

Namjoon grins, rosy cheeks complimenting his skin the way it glows gold in the sun’s glare. “You’d drag little ol’ me all the way to the hospital if you knew where it was?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh, sifting sand through your fingers as you relish the sound of waves crashing barely a yard away. It’s so peaceful, you feel so at peace. “Since none of you seem to know what a car is.”

“We had a car,” Namjoon admits, face flushing violently as he averts his gaze, turning his head. “There was just, um, an unfortunate incident… that may have involved a tree, or two…”

You decide not to probe further, lest your current good impression of Namjoon come under threat. A beat of silence passes, before Namjoon shuffles, placing the bundle of leaves back on the grass. He angles his body a little more towards you, sniffing subtly.

“So… how is your stay so far? Is everything going okay?”

You can’t hide the expression of surprise that makes its way to your face as you turn to him, blinking. You don’t know what you were expecting, but for some reason it hadn’t been that. It’s awfully nice of him.

You’ve been on the island almost a week now. The interactions you’ve had with your housemates so far, though not too bountiful, have all been pleasant, and you genuinely have nothing to complain about. You haven’t seen much of Jungkook, Hoseok, or Yoongi—but that mostly comes down to incompatible work hours and commitments. Mr Bang’s nephews run the Rabbit’s Den, the local convenience store that occasionally hosts a few exotic goods, and they have been nothing short of helpful, polite, and friendly while you worked there. You have worked a single shift at the Resident Services Building too, and it was pretty chill. A few residents came in, happily introduced themselves to you, and then you helped them with whatever had warranted their visit. All in all, your stay has been amazing so far.

“It’s been good,” you say, and it feels so nice to have the words escaping your mouth be true to the warmth in your chest. “Everyone here is super nice. It does feel a bit odd though, sometimes I feel like I’m the only human here.”

“Oh, yeah. You are,” Namjoon huffs an amused laugh. “You’re the first human Mr Bang has allowed on this island.”

Your surprise is evident, and it makes him smile when he turns his head to give you a sly look. “He must have had a good feeling about you. Rabbit hybrids tend to rely a lot on their gut feelings and intuition.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks warming. Well, you’re glad he had decided to let you in. You say as much to Namjoon, and he smiles brightly at you.

“We’re glad he decided to let you in, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, a little embarrassed from the unexpectedness of it—was he really telling the truth? You’d hardly spent any time with some of your other housemates…

A calm silence begins to settle between you, and you take the time to open your book and resume where you left off. You get so carried away reading that when you finally look up some time later, the sight to your side almost makes you gasp.

Namjoon had, at some point, fallen asleep in a little patch of sunlight that manage to pierce through the foliage—in the place of the large, long-limbed man you had been talking to is now a considerably smaller fluffy koala, sitting upright and snoozing lightly. You suspect this isn’t the most ideal position for him to be sleeping in, though, because every few moments he will sway on the spot, almost tipping but not quite going far enough to have an abrupt meeting with the sand.

You coo, unable to help it, but the sound quickly grows alarmed when he leans too far—before you can think your arms shoot out to hold him up, but it seems there is something true to what is said about koalas being clingy because the second he feels something touch him, koala Namjoon clings.

You squeak, a fully-grown koala now wrapped around your forearm. Slowly, you bring it closer to you (feeling your bicep burn all the while because damn is he heavier than he looks!), planning to use your other hand to ease him off, but it seems that the second you’re close enough he can sense your warmth and he wants in. You sit, exasperated and amused, with a koala now latched to your midriff, arm forgotten. Both your hands are now free, but at what cost?

You figure that he’ll probably let go when he wakes up, or he might fall back into the sand in his sleep, but until then you resign yourself to unexpected but definitely not unwelcome koala cuddles. You just hope he won’t be too embarrassed when he wakes up; you can already see him stuttering and going red in your mind’s eye. It brings a chuckle to your lips, and with a smile on your face you return to your book once more, a little more content than before.

O – O – O

It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with the dreams.

Usually, once they start you can wake yourself up, or you can manage to turn them around if they’re one you’ve had before. But some nights, when the dreams come, you’re helpless but to see them play out. Sometimes they’re not that bad, but even the milder ones leave you with a nauseous ball of anxiety beneath your lungs and a feeling of discomfort that digs claws deep in your bones.

About three weeks into your stay, you wake up after one such dream, a cursory glance to your phone and the painful glare of its screen revealing it to be the early hours of the morning. For a moment you simply lay, blinking, with your gaze rooted on the ceiling. You had strung up some fairy lights around your dresser, and on the plaster above you the soft colourful rainbow of their hue meshes and blends with the cool pools of moonlight slipping through your curtains.

Absently, and with a sense of resignation that you feel in your bones, you strip the cover back and climb out of bed, deciding you may as well grab some water since you’re likely not going to be able to fall asleep very easily anytime soon.

As you make your way through the levels to the ground floor where the kitchen resides, you’re careful to be as quiet as possible—you’re not sure how successful your effort is but you do know that quite a few of your housemates have been inundated with coursework lately and you don’t want to disturb any of the valuable rest they need so badly. Jimin had looked so wiped out yesterday that you’d literally had to pull him away from the dishes and send him to bed. He complained on the way, but as soon as his head hit his pillow he was out, leaving you in a mixture of awe and concern. He explained as soon as he woke the next morning that he had been up all night completing an assignment, and it made you realise just how exhausted a lot of your roommates seem lately. You hope this period passes soon for them; you may not have been here long but you have grown to care for them and you don’t like seeing them so unwell.

You’re just pondering this when you reach the ground floor and venture into the kitchen, thoughts and feet coming to an abrupt stop as you take in the sight that greets you there.

Seokjin is standing by the bench, hands moving slowly as he puts something together just out of your view. A quick survey of the rest of the countertop tells you that he’s making lunches, and while ordinarily this would touch your heart (as it does every time you see how each of the hybrids in this house cares for each other), this time you’re overcome with a strong wave of concern.

Delicately put, Seokjin looks dead on his feet.

Every few moments his head bobs down, chin almost hitting his chest before he jerks awake just long enough to lift his head, before the cycle repeats once more. He looks so exhausted you’re impressed he managed to make as many lunches as he did. Though, from the looks of it he’s only about halfway through.

“Hey, Seokjin… are you okay?”

The hybrid jumps, the startle you gave him probably rendering him more awake than he has been in a few hours.

“Wh—what are you doing awake?” he sputters, having to lean against the bench so that he doesn’t fall over. “It’s almost midnight!”

You can’t help the look you give him, a mixture between amusement and concern. “Um… it’s a little past midnight actually… probably closer to two… are you alright?”

Seokjin blinks at you for a second while your words sink in, before he sags with a light groan, bringing a hand up to scrub at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleepiness. His bushy, striped tail sways behind him before curling around his thigh. “I’m just… kind of wiped out. I was up finishing a part of a really big assessment piece and it took longer than I thought… I was going to go to bed but then I remembered that I hadn’t prepared the boys’ lunches, and I always do that, so I came down here and…”

He makes a great, sweeping gesture over the mess on the bench, a result of his patchy attention. A huff of laughter escapes him. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you finished your piece, but… do you really have to make their lunches? I think you should probably get some sleep…”

You were a little worried he might take your words the wrong way, but you can tell from the serene expression on his face that he doesn’t. “I always do it. If I don’t, then they might worry about me, and I don’t want them to worry about me when they should spend that energy worrying about themselves. Plus, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep if I knew they weren’t done.”

You return his amused smile, taking a step closer and willing yourself to speak the idea that had come to mind.

“Well, considering I found you almost sleeping on the spot when I came down, I think you should probably call it a night and get some rest. I’d be happy to finish up and make sure the lunches are done, if you’d like?”

You can see the resistance immediately, the tall man opening his mouth to refuse—but he halts, and for a moment slips into his own thoughts. Sensing that he just needs a little push, you continue, “If you tell me what you usually make, I should be able to finish the rest of them without too much trouble.”

He blinks, and in that moment you see the rest of his exhaustion flood to the surface. He sniffles, unable to fight the yawn that rises. “… Okay. If that’s really alright with you…?”

You laugh, reaching to bump Seokjin’s side. “Of course it is. I don’t mind at all, especially if it means you’ll go to sleep in your bed and not on the kitchen floor. Now, what do you normally make…?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Seokjin does his best to stay awake long enough to instruct you on what he makes and how he makes it for the remaining members of the household. You can’t help but notice throughout his explanation that he doesn’t seem to make lunch for himself despite making it for everyone else, and as he finally plods off to bed and passes out, you make the decision that you’re going to make some lunch for him too. It takes you a brief google search on the diet of red pandas and their hybrid counterparts, as well and recalling what you know of Seokjin’s taste in food, but it doesn’t take you too long to decide on what to make. You work through the lunches one by one, grateful for the distraction, and complete the task fully when Seokjin’s sits primly next to the rest. You pile them all into the fridge, washing your hands again before grabbing the water you originally came down for, and then you’re making the trip back upstairs to your own bed, a soft smile on your face and a warm satisfaction curling around your lungs. You fall asleep easier than expected for a night where you had one of those dreams, but there most definitely aren’t any complaints to be found as you drift off with a faint smile on your lips.

The next day, it’s only a little before midday when Seokjin finally rises from his slumber and makes his way downstairs. Blearily, he reaches the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge, attempting to think through his sleep-addled brain what he should make for lunch. Those thoughts are interrupted as he catches sight of a box he hasn’t seen outside of the little tupperware cupboard by the stove in ages sitting on the middle shelf, a little paper tag with ‘for Seokjin’ scribbled onto it perched on top.

He pulls it out and places it on the bench, staring in confusion. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to kick his limbs into gear and open it, but from that point on the realisation comes quickly with the memory of last night.

You’d gone and made lunch for him, too. And from the looks of it, you’d paid great attention to what to include.

His stomach rumbles violently as he takes in the sight of berries and the bamboo shoots he usually stores in the fridge that you must have taken the time to boil and season. There is a sandwich in there as well but he doesn’t need to check whether he will like it because he can already smell the salmon.

He doesn’t know what to think, or really what to say. He knows he’s just lucky you’ve already gone to work at the Rabbit’s Den because otherwise you would probably be here and risk seeing his eyes tear up a little.

A side effect from being sleepy and stressed is the dramatics, he knows, but still… he can’t help but notice the warm feeling that lingers in his stomach when he thinks of how nice you are to do such a thing.

O—O—O

“You’re gonna love it when we get there, y/n! It’s so pretty, and there’s so much fruit… I’m going to feast.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the company of your two housemates and the combination of cool breeze and warm sunlight the air offers as they kiss your skin. It’s earlier in the morning than you tend to wake up, but you’ve been invited out on an exclusive adventure and you aren’t in any position to say no. For the past few weeks you’ve noticed that on a Saturday and Sunday morning, Taehyung tends to disappear. You don’t know where, and each time you saw him again you forgot to ask, but finally the opportunity had arisen for you to sate your curiosity. Happily, the lemur hybrid had informed you that there is a small section of the island towards the north that is absolutely packed with trees, bushes and otherwise, all peppered with ripe fruit. Some days he goes to tend to them, but on the weekends he confessed to you that he normally goes to harvest the literal fruits of his labour.

“Just don’t eat all of the tamarind again, Jiminie, or I will have to kill you myself.”

Jimin lets out a loud laugh, stumbling in his gait for a moment from the force of it. “Yessir! Understood, sir!”

Taehyung’s lips quirk into a smile, and he returns his gaze to the front to continue marching ahead and leading the two of you to his secret spot. You adjust your hold on the woven bag over your shoulder, brushing away some of the more unruly strands of hair that have made their way across your face by riding on the breeze.

“Thanks again for inviting me, Tae,” you say, unable to hide the skip in your step as you plod along after them, smiling brightly. “I’ve been wanting to explore more—it feels wrong that I’ve been here for a month and barely seen everything there is to see.”

Taehyung spins to flash you a beaming grin over his shoulder, ears flicking and tail curling happily. “Of course, it’s no problem! I did wonder if you’d like to come some time, so I’m glad you mentioned it the other day.”

Jimin gasps, the sound somewhere between playful and affronted. “You asked her yourself to come?! I had to beg for weeks! Weeks!”

“I told you, the fruit weren’t done when you first asked!” Taehyung whines, reaching back and pausing in his steps just long enough to whack Jimin on the shoulder. “You just didn’t listen!”

“I’m baby,” Jimin says, whether in affirmation or explanation you’re not sure. It manages to tear a laugh from Taehyung either way, and you’re no different.

You’re not left stewing in anticipation for long; before you know it you’re broaching the place that Taehyung and Jimin speak so highly of. Rounding a corner, you come across a large grove that ends beyond what your eyes can see—some trees curl and wind, others stand straight and proud with their roots covered modestly with smaller shrubbery. Vines cling and string around some trunks, but the one thing all of the flora in front of you has in common is that they’re all ripe with fruit, ready to be picked.

“Oh wow,” you remark, barely aware you’ve even said anything. A deep laugh sounds from beside you and you turn to see Taehyung grinning brightly, tail curling happily behind him and his little ears flicking with glee.

“Pretty, right? Some of these were already growing here when I found it, like the apples, but the rest of it I planted over time. I’m proud of how it’s turned out.”

“You should be!” you exclaim, pointing to the fruit displayed in the very image of temptation before you all. “Dude, they look delicious.”

“They are!” Jimin chimes in, flitting past you and snagging his finger in your sleeve as he goes to drag you along. “Come on, there’s a mulberry tree up the back and it has the juiciest berries. We have to pick them now before all the birds and fruit bats get them.”

Laughing, you allow the sugar glider hybrid to lead you into the grove of greenery, the man ducking and weaving around branches with ease as his feet follow a path well-worn into the dirt and grass. The splotches of sunlight that filter through the foliage are pleasant where they warm your skin, breeze ensuring you don’t get too hot beneath the kiss of a star. In the shadows of the trees, it is actually much cooler than you expected, but you can’t help but feel that the temperature, the air, the sights—everything feels perfect.

The mulberry tree, fondly called Ol’ Bessy as Jimin had eagerly informed you, is a large, looming monster of a tree with a plethora of winding trunks and subordinate thin branches that dangle and sway in the breeze in the image of a weeping willow. When you comment on the sheer size of it, Taehyung simply shrugs and tells you with a smile that it’s been here a long time, before anyone was on the island.

The three of you don't have much desire to waste any more time standing and dawdling, and so you begin your activity for the day, woven bags and baskets prepared and at the ready. You inspect the mulberries that are hanging lowest, spying the occasional green one but becoming easily appeased when you find bunches of ripe ones, plump and fit to burst as they weigh the thinner branches down.

Gathering them is harder than anticipated, because you hadn't accounted for the fact they they're, well, berries. It takes a few attempts and more than a few instances of stained hands before you figure out the best way to pluck them from the tree without bursting them. Taehyung saw the first one you popped and the way it went all up your arm, and hasn't stopped laughing since.

The three of you bounce between fruits and trees, filling your containers with whichever you prefer. After a while though you all seem to have the same idea to congregate at the mulberry tree. Admittedly, you hadn't been able to stop yourself from munching on some of the fruits as you picked them, but as you look at them and see berry stains around their mouths and apple leaves in their hair, you feel a little less guilty about it. Taehyung places his basket down, leaning it securely against the base of the tree trunk, before dusting his hands with a sharp clap and then resting them on his hips.

"Right," he says, eyes alight. "There's just one more tree to visit. I think you're gonna love it."

You tilt your head, wondering just what other kind of fruit he has up his sleeve when already you've picked so many. Surely he's constrained even a little bit by the climate? Or does he have magically green thumbs? Jimin giggles at your confused expression.

"How good are you at climbing trees?"

The question gives you pause. "Uh... decent? I suppose?"

"Great!" Taehyung exclaims, picking his basket back up and closing the lid to help secure it on his back. "Let's go!"

Once more you're lead in between and through the trees and shrubs, following the gleeful lemur hybrid and his grinning companion back to the middle of the grove. Before long you're stumbling to a halt, having reached the location and wondering how on earth you managed to miss this tree before.

It's bigger than Ol' Bessy by a decent margin, but confusion filters through you when you can't seem to spot any fruit hanging from its branches. You turn to Taehyung, about to question him, but he simply grins and darts over to the massive trunk (really, you don't think two of you could hug it from either side and have your fingers touch, it's so big). It's only after he begins scaling it with alarming ease that you take note of the grooves and footholds curled into the trunk, making it a naturally perfect tree for climbing. Jimin darts up after his friend, apparently also well-versed in the art of climbing this tree, and breaks you from your awed reverie with a shout over his shoulder.

"Come on, y/n! Or Tae is gonna take the good spot!"

Unsure what he means and unsure if you're willing to find out via Taehyung following through on that, you scramble to follow after them and do your best to climb.

It's easier than anticipated, actually, and dare you say it... relaxing. Though you're going higher and higher with each branch you clear, and see less of the ground and more of the canopy with each step, you can't say you're all that scared, or worried. If anything, it's as though a moment of peace has been captured in a bubble, and now settles like cool mist on a spring morning at the bottom of your chest.

In sharp contrast to the cool breeze that brushes your face as you emerge from the thickest part of the foliage, the sun is quick to kiss warmth back into your cheeks. For a moment, you have to pause in your climb, because the view around you is simply so beautiful you're at an absolute loss for words.

From here, the highest point in the grove, you can see a vast majority of the island, a sweeping panorama of lush greens and soft sands that blend into the crystalline waters of the ocean, sunlight turning the surface to a sea of diamonds. Along the stretch of beach, in the distance, you can just barely glimpse the sharehouse, and on the other side of the island the little market square where all the stores and restaurants are appears as smudges and blobs of dark colours.

"It's so beautiful, right?"

You're so immersed in your observation that for a second you almost don't even register that someone is talking to you. Mouth open in awe, you simply turn your expression to Taehyung; the lemur laughs, almost tumbling back from the force of it, and you're shocked back into the moment with worry until you see what stopped him from falling.

Here, at the very top of the tallest tree in Taehyung's secret grove, he has built a small little fixture, a deck with enough space for four people to squeeze onto it at most. It hugs the trunk of the tree and is braced on the few thick branches that split from the tree beneath it. A lot of it is untouched, natural wood, but the bottom is made of processed planks and some of the short balcony ledge has been painted with acrylics, little scenes spanning the length of the strips. You didn't know Taehyung painted, but figure you'll bring it up at another time when you aren't precariously clinging to the top of a massive tree.

Taking the hand that both men offer you, you haul yourself carefully up and onto the deck, marvelling as you get an even clearer view of the island from your new position.

"It really is," you answer him, somewhat belatedly. When the two of them settle down, tree swaying much like you imagine a ship would on the vast expanse of the ocean, you follow suit, with your back pressed securely to the trunk.

Jimin is already flinging open his container, smacking it onto the wood in front of him, and Taehyung laughs once more, the sound so freeing and light that it makes that little bubble of peace in your abdomen expand ever so slightly.

"And now, we feast!" The lemur says, eagerly opening his own basket and setting it in front of him, besides Jimin's. They're both set to overflow from the amount of fresh, ripe fruit piled in.

They shamelessly and unabashedly dig in, eliciting a laugh from you as you move your own bag before you to do the same. It's nice, the perfect lunch in more ways than one; the small amount of foliage above you offers just enough shade that you want for nothing more in the moment besides maybe a pillow or two, everything else accounted for in excess.

You're not sure how long you spend there, but you do know that the sun has made a decent amount of headway in its journey across the sky by the time the three of you are done stuffing your stomachs full, laying across the deck and squinting until the clouds swimming leisurely across the sky begin to resemble something you can put a name to. It's fun, and light, and for what is alarmingly far from the first time, you find yourself so thankful for the choices you made and the path that led you here, to be staying on this beautiful island with these lovely boys.

By time you finish and the three of you are heading back, you’ve eaten through half of the fruit and the boys are so full and sleepy from the big day that they’ve shifted into their animal forms and are now clinging to you, Taehyung with his long limbs around your neck and Jimin with his tiny paws clinging to the hair at the top of your head. You suspect he’s made himself another little nest up there, but can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him for it especially when the soft sounds and chitters he makes to communicate with Taehyung are so damn cute.

The trip back is shorter than you recall, and before you know it you’re approaching the sharehouse once more, it’s looming sides graced with the warm gleam of afternoon sun. Jimin and Taehyung are asleep as you reach the front door, and you’re saved from having to move all the bags and baskets in your hold to open the door when it opens for you. Hoseok is standing there, a startled look gracing his features that quickly blends into one of fondness as he sees his friends, something that makes your cheeks warm ever so slightly.

“Good day?” he asks, stepping back to let you in. You nod, unable to help the wide grin touching your lips.

“Yeah, it was.”

O – O – O

‘…They should be setting up a tower soon, so hopefully it won’t be long before I can call you again. But until then, I look forward to every letter you send, bubbles.

Write back soon! I miss you.

Love, Dad’

You sniffle, trying not to let out the tears that are so close to slipping from your eyes. You’re not all that upset, you love receiving letters from your father, but it’s just… a little bittersweet. You’d moved here to escape your family, following a certain incident that you’re not keen to revisit, and your father had always been and will always be supportive of you— but it’s hard, when he’s halfway across the globe on one expedition or another.

It was only in the past ten years that your father managed to snag the job of his dreams and follow the passion he’s harboured since he was a child, graduating from his career as an accountant through attention garnered from numerous big research papers to become a well-respected biologist. From the second he accepted the offer, he’d started down a path that led him spending a majority of his life outside of the home and always on the move, hopping from one destination to another.

Whenever he could, he’d take you with him, but he wasn’t always able to. This expedition, which has landed him in the Antarctic, is an example of that. While he can’t be with you physically, he writes often and calls every chance he gets—and though it saddens you sometimes when it highlights the dismal state of the rest of your family, more than anything you’re happy for him and overjoyed that after years of slaving in an office, he finally gets to do what he wants.

You inhale, closing your eyes and trying to let the breath escape in a long, level manner. It’s night, not when you normally go about reading letters from your father but this letter had come late and you’d almost completely forgotten on your way to bed. Taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, you’d taken the letter and made yourself comfortable on the balcony, using the ample moonlight as a makeshift reading lamp.

Placing the letter carefully on the table, mindful not to place it in anything dirty or unsavoury, you settle back in your chair and tilt your gaze to the skies, allowing your eyes to become unfocused and simply stare. It's a pretty sight, as you expected-- the stars are much more outgoing here, with no haze or pollution masking their display like in the city on the mainland.

You let out a breath, but even to your ears it sounds more like a sigh. You miss your dad, and you know he misses you too but despite the fact you know it's selfish of you, you kind of wish he had been here with you when you made the decision to move. Of course, you've told him all about it, and he's supported you wholly in every choice you've made, but it's not the same. You don't blame him, and you love him dearly, but still... you're allowed to be sad, just a little. Just for tonight.

Well, that had been your plan-- apparently the universe has other ideas that don't include sulking in the moonlight on your balcony. A scuffling sound disturbs your reverie from the side of your balcony, and you look over in time to see a decent blob of shadow scaling up the side of the balcony next to yours and flinging onto the railing. Once there, it halts, and your eyes adjust just in time to meet those of the creature-- the raccoon, you realise quickly. It tilts its head up, sniffling the air once, before pinning you with an unreadable look. For a moment the two of you sit in silence, locked in place by the other's gaze, before the raccoon lets out a soft noise and then it's little claws are clacking against the hollow metal railing, and it disappears beyond the wall.

Whose room is that... Jungkook's? You muse to yourself for a moment before you remember what kind of hybrid Jungkook is, and in the next second there is the sound of a door sliding shut and Jungkook's bright-eyed face pops around the side of the wall.

"Uh... are you okay?"

You blink, brain taking a moment to catch up and then decipher how he could have possibly known you were even a little bit upset. You recall suddenly that animals can pick up cues, like chemoreceptors, and tilt your head at him with a small smile.

"Yeah... no... I'm alright." You angle yourself more towards him in your chair, cheering internally when you see him stop hiding behind the wall and come to lean against the railing. "Was that you? Where were you off to, this time of night?"

Jungkook looks like he wishes to address the first thing you said, but your follow-up has thrown him a bit for a loop. You can't be sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, but you could almost swear he's blushing.

"Oh, yeah... sorry." He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, hair mussed and eyes averted. "I know my animal form isn't that nice... sorry if you thought it was gross."

"What?!"

At the sheer suddenness and volume of your almost-shriek, Jungkook jumps about a foot in the air. His wide eyes swing back to you, chest heaving as he rests his hand in the centre of it. You clear your throat, shrinking a bit in embarrassment.

"Sorry," you wince, before going to elaborate on your earlier squawk. "But please don't ever apologise for something like that! I don't know who told you that your animal form is gross, but they can't be all that bright... it was cute."

He looks more like a deer in headlights than the animal he's spliced with right now, eyes wide and staring right at you. You can't help but laugh and tease him, just a little. "Cutest raccoon I ever did see, anyway."

He suddenly comes back to earth, slamming his face into his hands and letting out a long groan. It's from embarrassment, you can tell from the flashes of reddened skin that peek through his fingers. You don't say anything for a moment, letting him return to the conversation on his own terms. Jungkook might be one of the housemates you've interacted with least, but you've heard plenty from the rest of the hybrids in the house.

More often than not, it's about how shy he is and how cute it is when he gets embarrassed. You'd simply nodded and laughed at the time, but now you realise there truly is merit to everything they said.

It takes a few moments of Jungkook muttering into his hands before he pulls his face away, averting his eyes and mumbling softly, "... Thanks. That's really nice of you to say."

"You're welcome," you shrug, smiling when he risks a glance your way to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing nothing that will make him turn tail and flee back into the safety of his room, he eases up, returning his body to it's previous angle towards you.

"So... why were you upset?"

Surprisingly, his question doesn't bother you as you thought it might. You hum, watching as his gaze follows yours to the table, where the letter and the envelope it came in, addressed to you, lay discarded.

"Letter from my dad," you offer in explanation, watching his eyes light in realisation. "Nothing bad, I just miss him so it's... bittersweet."

Jungkook hums, nodding and resting his chin in his hand as he leans forward. "I understand. It's like that with my parents. I know they love me, and I love them, but they're pretty far away and I just... miss them. They're always working."

You're a little surprised that he can relate, although you suppose you really shouldn't be. You don't know very much about Jungkook at all, so it's not fair of you to assume anything about him, even in relation to your own experiences.

"Yeah," you sigh, looking to the sky for a moment as you try and organise your thoughts. "I'm happy he is where he is, doing what he's doing, but I think it's okay to be sad, just for tonight."

Jungkook hums, but doesn't say anything further. It surprises you when he speaks next, the two of you having fallen into a lull.

"Well, you could keep being sad for the night if you want, or... would you maybe wanna see the film I've been working on?"

Your head whips to face him faster than the speed of light, startling him into another jump on the spot.

"Really?" you ask, hurried as though the offer will be rescinded at any moment. "You mean it? I can see it?"

"Yes...?" Jungkook answers, somewhat bewildered. You launch from your chair immediately, rubbing your hands together-- you've heard really good things from the others about his talents in photography and editing, so you've been trying to figure out a way to slip it into conversation for weeks. You've wanted to see them for yourself so badly.

"I'm coming over," you announce, gathering the letter and envelope and already beginning to move towards your room. "I hope your room is clean, Jungkook, or else I'm gonna tease you!"

You'd just meant it as a joke, but the scrambling and hurried footsteps you hear after you say it make you think he took you seriously.

Well, you dad would probably want you to spend the night happy, anyway. You can save being sad for another night.

O -- O -- O

Your time at the house has gone by much faster than you anticipated, and while initially you'd thought that you wouldn't be able to wait to get out, now you find yourself feeling quite the opposite.

You kind of don't want to leave.

At this point, about two months into your stay, you've settled into such a comfortable, stable routine that you struggle to imagine going through the motions in any other way. Often after your early shifts you'll return to the house and catch someone lounging in the sun, and you will no doubt be roped into a short, sweet afternoon nap. On the weekends is group breakfast, and you make sure that you go to bed as early as possible the nights before so that you don't miss it. Taehyung drags you with him of a weekend to fetch fruit and Jimin drags you around the town in general. Some evenings, you find yourself accompanying Namjoon on a walk along the beach, both of you feeling more at peace than ever before when you're standing with feet buried in the sand, watching dusk bleed into twilight and the colours around you stain violet and periwrinkle in the absence of the sun's kiss.

Jungkook knocks on your door at late hours, grinning and eagerly summoning you to his room to watch his latest creation. Seokjin no longer resists your help every other night to make lunches, and has started including you in the schedule as well.

Yoongi and Hoseok are among the busier residents of the house, but you've still spent bits of time with each of them, probably moreso with Hoseok. It's not that you avoid Yoongi or anything like that, it's just that he happens to be the most busy and more often than not is holed up in his room. You don't always see him throughout the week, but he always attends house breakfast on weekends and you're thankful that you get to see him then.

Today, you're spending a little more time with Hoseok. Your shift ended early and you couldn't have thanked your lucky stars any harder, because today the squirrel hybrid had invited you to his dance class. Usually Jungkook or Jimin went with him, both of them enjoying dance as much as their older housemate, but they had both been unavailable today. You'd seen the way Hoseok's face had fallen when they'd told him, and had immediately asked about the class-- you didn't even talk for more than a few minutes before Hoseok was happily inviting you to attend.

It made you a little more pleased than you're going to admit.

You're on your way there now, actually, a skip in your step and a swing in your gait. You've got the tote bag you hold your work things in, and you can hear the rustling of the nuts you'd shoved in there last minute earlier in the day. You'd noticed that Hoseok had forgotten them, so you'd grabbed them to give to him when you saw him. Hopefully he hasn't stuffed himself too full of other foods in the meantime, though from what you've heard apparently he's such a workaholic that he probably hasn't even had lunch yet despite the fact it's currently three in the afternoon.

A majority of Hoseok's classes take place at the school where he teaches, in a room at the end of the drama block that often doubles as a dance classroom when the school gets the funding for it. When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar and upbeat pop is leaking through the gap, Hoseok's sunny voice piercing through the music like a pendulum.

"--and one, two, three, one, two, three-- that's it! That's fantastic! Really good job, guys!"

A smile is already on your face as you push the door open enough to let yourself in, gaze immediately falling upon a group of grinning children that are looking up at Hoseok like they're a tiny field of sunflowers facing their namesake. Hoseok stands before them in a borderline comical pose that only primary school teachers can really pull off, hands on his hips and a proud, beaming smile on his face. You can’t help but blink because for a moment it really was as blinding as looking directly at the sun. He spots you before you can recover fully, and greets you with a wave.

“Ah, perfect! Everyone, this is Miss y/n! She’s going to be sitting in today—I told her how good you all were and she couldn’t wait to see for herself. Let’s all say hello!”

A chorus of greetings is immediately thrown at you, the attention of the little sunflowers now completely on you. Some gasp and run over, grinning brightly at the novelty of a new character, and others watch from afar but seem pleased nonetheless by your presence and alleged eagerness to see them perform.

Before they can launch into conversation with you like you can so clearly see they want to, the ears of some kids ramrod straight and alert and others’ tails flicking in excitement, Hoseok calls them back to where he stands and to your surprise they obey immediately.

“Alright, let’s let Miss y/n get settled down and we can show her what we’ve been practicing, hm? Sound good?”

There is a chorus of ‘yes!’ that pulls a laugh from you as you make your way to the side of the room with the best view and plop down, cross-legged. Eagerly and very self-consciously, now that they have an audience, the small army of children runs to take their place in the formation, and Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket to pause the song currently playing and pull up the one that matches their routine.

The opening notes filter into the air and Hoseok nods, foot tapping to the beat, before he counts them in and off they go.

Put simply, you’re so incredibly impressed. These kids can dance! You don’t have a doubt that they can dance better than you, not that you ever claimed to have much talent in that department. By the time they finish running through their little routine, you’re clapping and cheering loudly, relishing in the laughter that you’re exaggerated reaction elicits. Hoseok, too, is smiling as he sees how you interact with his students, wandering over after he takes them through it a few more times before giving them a small break.

"So, what do you think?" he asks as he approaches your side of the room, slightly out of breath from doing the routine with them the last few times. "They're so good, aren't they? They've only been working on this for a few weeks and already they have it almost perfectly down-pat. I'm so proud of them."

He slides down the wall next to you, reaching for the bag he'd dropped there presumably before class began; across the room all the students are reaching into their class backpacks for their afternoon snack, and it seems Hoseok has the same idea. You don't even remember the nuts in your bag until he rifles through his for a few minutes, brows furrowed when he comes up empty. His bushy tail flicks dejectedly, ears twitching back on his head, and he pouts.

"Damn, I think I forgot my lunch this morning," he says, and it's enough to jog your memory. You jump in place from the startle of it.

"Oh, I saw that! Here," you quickly reach into your own bag and pull out the nuts and dried fruits, passing it over to him. "I brought it for you, since I figured you'd probably want it at some point."

The way Hoseok's eyes light up when they see the little plastic bag in your hand is almost enough to make you laugh and/or coo out loud. By the skin of your teeth you barely manage to hold that reaction back, but you do smile as he cheers with a short, happy scream and eagerly takes it from your grip.

"My nuts!" Hoseok wastes no time ripping the bag open and grabbing a handful, setting about munching immediately. "You have saved my life today, Miss y/n. I was soooo hungry."

"Didn't get lunch?" you guess, already knowing the answer and having it confirmed when Hoseok nods, completely unfazed by the fact he'd skipped a meal or two.

"I was helping one of the students," he explains, munching happily. His bushy tails curls in content behind him, a sight that makes something happy and warm settle in your chest. "I don't mind missing lunch if it means they get the help they need. I do feel it afterwards, though. Sometimes when I get home I feel so hungry I could eat the whole cupboard out."

A laugh tears from you at his words, the image even funnier because he didn't specify whether he would be doing it in his human form or his animal form. The image of a squirrel wreaking havoc in the house pantry is funnier than you care to admit, but Hoseok just seems happy to have elicited a laugh no matter the magnitude.

It's just a small thing, spending the afternoon with Hoseok and his students, but you find afterwards that it was almost... healing. On the way home, walking besides Hoseok and discussing which dried fruit were the superior dried fruit (he's wrong, and you'll take that opinion with you to the grave), you can't help but feel so light and happy. Like everything is in place, in motion and flowing smoothly. A river without debris and jagged rocks; life right now feels like that moment in nature when water runs over smooth pebbles in a creek, tumbling and pouring but doing so without chaos, and without mess or fallout. Just one continuous, fluid motion.

It feels nice.

You don't even realise until you're laying in bed that night that for a while now, that's how you've been referring to this place.

As home.

O -- O -- O

Aside from the occasional uncomfortable dream, these past few months have been remarkably incident-free, where it concerns the unfortunate topic of your extended family. You'd changed a lot of things when you'd made the decision to move to this island; your phone number, your email addresses and all your passwords, your social media... all of it had been combed through and either switched out or slimmed down. This place is an escape, a place of refuge for you, and that's how you want it to stay.

Unfortunately, the universe isn't always on your side.

It's a rainy afternoon when you receive the call, and you're so fixated on watching the way the rain falls in thin sheets over the ocean that at first from the first floor patio, that you miss it. They don't call again, but a message sets your phone off a minute or so later, and that catches your attention.

Of course, the second you read it and see who it's from, it does more than just catch your attention.

You're not someone prone to many episodes, and you've become adept at self-soothing. But as your eyes begin to stare unfocused at the message and you feel your chest constrict, diaphragm pushing against your lungs, you realise distantly that this is more than you just being momentarily overwhelmed.

You get a bit lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of light-headedness that suddenly washes over you, so much so that when a voice sounds distantly, muffled as though you're listening to someone speak to you from the depths of a pool, you barely even register it at first.

"Hey, y/n, have you seen--"

Still, your eyes are stuck on the message; you don't even notice the way your fingers had begun to tremble while holding the phone until a hand brushes your arm, a figure in front of you blocking the light from beyond the porch.

"y/n, hey, are you.... look at me. y/n, look at me."

Oh, that's a voice, and you do as it says without even a single thought flitting through your head. Looking up, you're barely even as surprised as you should be to see Yoongi standing there, a look of concern spread across his features, brows drawn together as he regards you. You feel a warm touch against your hand, phone tugged from your grip to be replaced with his own. Both your hands are now in his hold and he uses it to ground you, even if just for a moment.

"Can you do me a favour?" Yoongi says, and his voice is so soft and soothing that you find yourself listening as attentively as you can right now. "I need you to breathe with me. I'm gonna count ten breaths, okay? Let's do the first one-- in..."

He inhales deeply, his whole chest moving from the magnitude of it, and you feel as though you're floating in your own head in the moment as you follow suit. Slowly, patiently, he takes you through each breath one at a time, making sure you inhale as big as he does and exhale as long as he does. By the time you reach ten, the light-headed feeling has faded and the constriction in your chest has eased, ever so slightly. As soon as you finish your tenth breath you sag slightly, letting out a gush of air.

"Sorry," you say, slipping one of your hands from his grip to cover your face. "Sorry, I just--"

To your complete and utter surprise, Yoongi's hand lets your other one go and in the next moment you feel arms slipping around your shoulders, bringing you close to his chest and letting your face rest on his shoulder. You see his fluffy tail from where your face is squished, catching glimpses over his shoulder of the way it curls calmly.

Once the moment of shock passes, you're unable to help yourself but to return the embrace, surprised by how much you needed this without even knowing so.

"It's okay, don't apologise," Yoongi says, voice still soft and calm. You sag against him, and your eyes burn not from the message that triggered your almost anxiety-attack, but from the sheer kindness you feel emanating from this man. "Happens to the best of us. Are you feeling a little better?"

You nod, because oddly enough you are, and he slowly releases his hold on you, easing back with an assessing look. Another apology rests on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back, knowing he would refuse it if it ever entered the air.

“I am. Thanks,” you say, eyes looking for your phone as you realise suddenly that it is no longer in your hand where you’d left it. Yoongi holds it up, handing it back easily; his gaze passes over the screen as he does so, and the look he gives you is one of empathy and knowing.

“Shitty family?” he inquires, and you nod, choosing not to look at your phone and to slip it straight into your pocket instead. You go to sit against the wall, facing the edge of the patio, and he joins you.

“I get it,” he says, lifting a hand to fluff up his grey-tinted hair before shifting his gaze out to the rain and its reunion with the ocean. “’Part from my parents, the rest of my… relatives… they’re, uh… they’re not so nice. Didn’t treat me all that well, or even my parents for that matter. So… I get it. You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t wanna, but I get it.”

You don’t really know what to say to that; not that you’re speechless, per se, but moreso that there is simply so much going through your head at once that you can’t seem to settle on anything to voice.

“Thank you,” you say again, sniffling as subtly as you can as you focus on evening your breaths and calming your heart. You feel something on your hand and look over to see Yoongi has placed his palm over your own, his face soft and comforting.

“It’s no problem.”

A different kind of ache, the sort that is tinged around the edges with bittersweet warmth, begins to make itself known amongst the turmoil in your abdomen, and in this moment you can’t quite decipher whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. What you do know, though, is that you’ve never been more thankful to have had the fortune of meeting these boys and having them make room in their hearts for you, even just a little, than you are right now.

O – O – O

You can’t believe that all the time you’ve spent here has gone so fast, and that currently there is no more than a week before your three month deadline is up and your contracted stay at this house is to come to an end.

If you’re being honest with yourself… you don’t want to go.

When you’d first come to this house, you’d expected that you would have a nice time, but also that you would be eager to move out by the end of the three month period. You had no way of knowing how well you’d fall into routine here, how attached you would become not only to the residents but to the home, the place and the feeling it offers and the way it allows you to feel happier than you have in years.

You know that you have to leave, they’d only agreed to house you for the three months after all, and you also know that they seem to have realised your time here is coming to an end as well. You’ve caught them talking amongst themselves a few times, not quite whispering but definitely conversing about something that halts as soon as they catch wind of you anywhere nearby. You get the sense that they’re unsure how to approach the topic, and you understand since it’s a bit tough for you yourself. You decide to bite the bullet and do it for them, though.

You ask them to meet you in the living area, a week before you leave, to talk. You wanted to just… officially thank them, you suppose. They’ve done a lot for you, in the time you’ve been here, whether they realise it or not. They’ve helped you settle, they’ve shown you that there really is more to life outside the misery your relatives tended to create, and they’ve ensured every second you’ve been with them that you have felt welcomed, and included.

Truthfully, it means more to you than you know how to put into words.

Which is why it’s especially difficult for you to accept that you have to leave.

The expressions on their faces as they gather are a mixture between curious and somewhat apprehensive, with Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok bordering on nervous. You wonder why before realising they might not know why you called them here.

“Hey, thanks for gathering,” you say, attempting to keep it light and ensure the smile stays on your face. Of course, they all return is as they take seats across the room, some on the couch and others on the coffee table or the floor. Taehyung’s head tilts, tail curling lightly behind him.

“Um, I just wanted to say something to you—to all of you, while I could. I didn’t think I’d be able to catch everyone in the one room any time but on the weekend,” you muse, smile widening at the round of light laughter your joke elicits. You shift, taking a breath and grounding yourself through the motion of meeting their gazes, one by one.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you begin, voice softer than intended but not so soft that you’re worried their senses won’t pick it up. “Because when I moved here it was to get away, and start anew, and you guys… really gave me that. You’ve made these three months the best and happiest months I’ve had in a long time. I’m so thankful that you let me in, and welcomed me into your home and even into your lives. I don’t think I can word this the way I want to but… really. Thank you, so much. I know I have to leave in a week, but—”

“Oh!”

You halt mid-spiel, wide eyes moving to Taehyung as he suddenly sits up, holding his hands out. “So that’s what you wanted to talk to us about—we actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”

Freezing, you simply blink, mind coming up blank as to what they could possibly want to talk to you about. Namjoon clears his throat when no one else follows up after Taehyung, averting his eyes before he gathers himself and meeting your confused look. “Well, you probably noticed we’ve been talking amongst ourselves a lot lately—I mean, I know you’ve noticed because you’ve walked in on us a few times, and we’re not very good at being subtle, but—”

“We want to know if you’d like to stay here—permanently.” Taehyung cuts his friend off before he can finish, apparently no longer able to hold the question at bay. There is an expression of pure, unguarded sincerity on his face, excitement lighting in his eyes. “We all talked it out and found that we want you to stay—all of us.”

“You fit,” Yoongi says suddenly, voice still soft but loud enough for you to catch easily. He offers you a gentle smile when you look his way. “We know that if you left, the house wouldn’t be the same after… it would be missing something. You haven’t been here long, but you’re kind of already part of our family so… please don’t go, if you don’t want to.”

Some of the others are pinning Yoongi with a surprised look that you suspect is not directed at what he said, but rather the fact that he said it. You’re too busy biting your lip and trying not to cry like a baby to notice all that much.

“Is that really okay?” you ask, déjà vu washing over you as you think to yourself that again, this sounds too good to be true. “Do you guys really want me to stay?”

Immediately, there is a mixture of nods and loud ‘Yes!’s and ‘Of course!’. You really can’t hold it back, you find, because the sudden flood of warmth and affection washing over your insides is more than you know how to handle. You sniff, unable to reach the tears fast enough to prevent their fall down your face.

“Will you stay?” Yoongi asks, head tilted. Regrettably, his tenderness makes more tears fall.

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping your face furiously, “Yeah, I will. Thank you.”

And that’s all the confirmation you need before your new family is tackling you one by one, replacing your sobs with laughter and making sure you know that from now on, you don’t have to cry alone, you don’t have to be sad alone. They’re here for you.

And it feels so, so nice.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and how it made u feel, and let me know u enjoyed it by liking and reblogging! feel free to even just send me an ask screaming! thank u! i love u !

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