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wicked-mind · 3 years

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Last Love: Part Two

Summary: Based on the quote “He may be your first love but I intend to be your last” by Klaus Mikaelson.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Aftermath of domestic abuse, swearing, bitchy mom alert.

Note: This is a small part two because we needed so see more of these two together (:

Part One Here

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

From the moment you told Bucky you love him, he was more motivated to show you how much he loves you. You still had your struggles but Bucky was doing everything he could to show you how much you meant to him. He would pull you into his arms every night and whisper sweet things in your ear until you fell asleep and when you had nightmares, he would wake you up and wipe your tears away as he listened to what you had dreamt of before saying all the right things to make you feel safe again. Steve lived with Bucky so it took a little bit for you to stop flinching when they would start to howl with laughter, but you eventually joined in the laughter when they joked with each other.

It was almost Christmas time again and you were having struggles with the memories of how the last holiday season went. Your nightmares were more frequent and you were in no way in the holiday spirit. You tossed and turned in the bed until Bucky’s arms found you, pulling you against his chest so your face could nuzzle into his neck.

Bucky loved having you next to him. He loved everything about you. He loved the way your nose scrunched slightly when you tried to hold back a laugh or when he would catch you singing softly to yourself when you didn’t think anybody was around. Most of all, he loved having you in his arms and the honor of being the man to keep you safe and love you. After pulling you into his chest, he lets one hand stroke through your hair while the other rubs your back, “Still having bad dreams, babydoll?” He murmurs out to you sleepily, keeping his eyes closed as he rested his head on his pillow.

You nodded into his neck, sniffling a little against his skin as you held back tears. You hated crying from your nightmares. It made you feel like you were still being haunted- like Charlie still had a hold on you, “Yeah… Sorry I woke you.”

Bucky opens his eyes to see his room lit up from the sunlight peaking through the windows and scoots away a little bit to be able to look into your sleepy eyes, moving his hand from stroking your hair to cupping your cheek in his palm, “No need to apologize, sweetheart.” He said with a small smile before pressing his lips to your forehead for a comforting kiss, “How about I make us some breakfast?”

You smile softly up at him, “Blueberry pancakes?”

Bucky nods to you with a smile, “Of course, I’ll even make you some bacon.” He said before dragging himself out of the bed and pulling on some grey sweats. He headed for the door but stopped before he opened it, looking back at you in his bed like he did every morning. It was his favorite thing to see everyday- you looking over at him while tangled in his sheets, “God, you’re gorgeous.” He told you with that crooked grin before heading out the door to go start breakfast.

Once you managed to get yourself dressed in some jean shorts, a white tank top, and one of Bucky’s red flannels, you brushed your hair and teeth before making your way to the kitchen rubbing your eyes sleepily. Your eyes focused on Bucky when he let out a whistle toward you, blushing and taking a seat at table.

Bucky grinned, he loved seeing you wearing his clothes. It just imprinted more in his mind that you were finally his as you were always meant to be, “Damn, doll.” He said over to you while he flipped some pancakes onto a plate, “I thought you looked gorgeous in my sheets…” He carried the plate over and placed it in front of you before placing a finger under your chin, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His lips parted as he ran his eyes up and down you one more time, his tongue flickering out to trace his bottom lip at the sight of you before his pearly whites softly bit down with a small groan passing his lips, “But you in my clothes is a whole other level.”

You blushed at his words, your eyes watching his tongue trail along his bottom lip. He knew what he was doing to you, making your breath catch in your lungs. Luckily, you were seated so you didn’t have to rely on your legs that always felt numb when he talked to you like that, “I like wearing your clothes, smells like you.” You say softly back to him, reaching up a hand to tangle in the back of his hair and pull his lips to yours for a deep kiss.

Bucky groans at the feel of your lips on his. You were like his favorite liquor- making him love drunk with every touch. Every touch from you felt like a gift to him. He couldn’t begin to describe the fire you made him feel. He places one hand on your thigh and the other on the back of your neck, pulling your lips rougher against his and took advantage of the small whimper that passed your lips for his tongue to sneak into your mouth, entangling with yours. Finally pulling away for oxygen, he leans his forehead against yours, “Your pancakes are goin’ to get cold, doll.” He said with that crooked grin, “We can finish that up later."

While you two ate, you discussed the plans for the day. Bucky said he had to go to work for a little but should be back soon and you told him you had to return some books to the library and pick up some new ones to read. You stood up with your plate, on the way to the sink when you ran your hip into the side of the counter, dropping the glass plate to the floor and watching it shatter to pieces. You gasped and brought your hands up to your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as you look over to Bucky. Anytime you broke something with Charlie it was met with yelling and a few hard slaps to your face. You started spewing out apologetic sobs, “Oh god… I’m.. I’m sorry…”

Bucky stood, noticing the way you reacted and how your eyes immediately started releasing tears. He walks slowly towards you, “Shhh, doll.” He said gently, “It was an accident.” He gently wraps his arms around your waist and picks you up, placing you seated on the counter, “Are you okay? Didn’t step in any glass did you?” He gently takes your cheeks into his palm, looking into your eyes with a comforting smile.

You shook your head, “N-no.” You whisper to him, your body shaking slightly in muscle memory as you expected to be punished for breaking the plate, “I’m really sorry… It was my fault and-“ “Stop, sweetheart.” Bucky said softly, cutting you off, “It was an accident. Accidents happen.” He said before gently placing a kiss to your forehead, “You don’t have to apologize. Nobody is upset with you and nobody is going to hurt you. Now breathe with me, okay? In….. Out…”

You breathed in deeply with Bucky’s words and slowly released the air in your lungs, feeling yourself calm down. You did it a few more times with him before reaching up a hand and wiping your tears away on the sleeve of his flannel you wore, “I’m sorry, Bucky..” You breathed out to him, slowly leaning your head on his shoulder, “It’s been bad lately with the holiday coming up… I know you’d never hurt me.”

Bucky wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly as you leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling to himself at your warmth you always brought him when you were close, “I know, doll.” He whispers back to you, “I know it’s a hard time for you and that’s alright. I’m here for you.”

After you helped Bucky clean up the shattered plate from the floor and the rest of the dishes from breakfast, you gave him a tight hug and a soft kiss before he left for work. He lovingly stroked your cheek with his calloused fingers and told you that he loves you as he did everyday before he left for work. You managed to talk Steve into going to the library with you, though it didn’t take much convincing. He was happy to help you out especially since he knew you were having such a hard time. Plus there were some new books he wanted to give a read also.

“Thanks for coming with me, Stevie.” You said with a small smile up to him as you walked into the library and placed your books into the return slot.

Steve gave you a gentle smile, his hands tucked into his jeans, “No problem, haven’t been here for a while. I need to catch up on some reading.”

“I’ll be over there if you need me.” You said, pointing over to a section of the library before making your way over. You usually would check out a mixture of books from fantasy to art books but today you felt the need to glance over the self-help books. Maybe there would be something that would help you figure out how to get rid of the hold you felt Charlie still had over you. You grabbed one of the books off the shelf, flipping through the pages and reading some of the passages when you heard a woman clear her throat. You turn your gaze to look at the older woman and instantly froze. Charlie’s mother, Rose.

“Y/N.” The woman said to you, “Haven’t seen you in a long while.”

You bit into your cheek hard enough until you could taste copper in your mouth from blood, “Yeah… Hi, Rose.”

“It’s Mrs. Baker to you now, Y/N.” She said, folding her arms and giving you a soft glare.

As long as you have known Charlie’s mom, you two didn’t get alone. Anything you had ever done in her eyes was never enough and she would always criticize saying that Charlie needed to teach you to be a better woman, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baker.” You said softly, looking down to the floor.

Rose took the book from your hand in one swipe, “What are you doing in this section?” She asks before reading the cover of the book, “Your Life After Trauma: Powerful Practices to Reclaim Your Identity….” She scoffed and looked at you, “Still living a lie? Going around telling everybody that my son hurt you?”

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, instead biting onto your cheek again as you looked at her with sad eyes.

Rose pushed the book back to your chest, forcing you to grab ahold of it. She took a step closer to you, pointing one of her fingers in your face, “My son tried with you. Tried to turn you into a woman worthy of being his wife even though I told him you were a waste of time.” She hissed out.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked, suddenly appearing beside you after hearing some of the conversation. He had a deep frown on his face and was glaring daggers at the woman who seemed to be scolding you.

The woman looks at Steve before her eyes returned to you, “I wouldn’t trust this one, young man. She’s a liar and a manipulator- she will ruin your reputation.” She hissed out before turning to walk away.

You frowned and walked forward, “I’m not a liar, Mrs. Baker.” You said, finding your courage as you gripped the book in shaking hands, “Your son is a monster. Anything that has been done to his reputation is his own fault from the way he beat me. You should be just as upset that he dared to lay a violent hand on a woman.”

Mrs. Baker turned to face you, listening to your words with narrowed eyes. Once you finished your piece, she scoffed at you with a roll of her eyes before walking away.

Steve walked forward to stand beside you and looked at you as you still stared off after her, tears slowly slipping down your face as you clutched the book tightly to your chest. He sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder softly, “You alright?”

You sniffled and nod slowly, blinking yourself back into reality, “Yeah… That was… That was Charlie’s mom…” You stammer out quietly, looking down at the floor again.

Steve let out another sigh and a shake of his head. Geez, you couldn’t catch a break, “C’mon. Let’s get the rest of the books you want then we will go out for some feel good food.” He said softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to help you feel safe. He had taken on the role as a big brother to you over the past year and hated seeing you upset almost as much as Bucky did, “Burgers, fries, and milkshakes on me.”

You nod and gave him a half smile before returning to quickly picking out the books you wanted. Steve stayed close to you in case Charlie’s monster of a mother came back to give you another earful, walking you up to the counter to check out your books before heading to the car and stopping at one of the diners. You sat across from him, dipping fries into your chocolate milkshake. You were already feeling a little better after the horrible interaction with Charlie’s mom. You eyed Steve suspiciously when he kept ordering more baskets of fries even though both of you were barely touching them, already full from the burgers, “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

Steve looked at you with a small smile, leaning back in the opposite side of the booth, “Me? Up to something?” He asks, “Never.”

You point a french fry at him, your eyes narrowing, “You’re lying.” You stated before dipping your fry in your chocolate milkshake, “But you bought me food so I’ll let it go. For now.”

You had been out of the house for hours with Steve and you knew he was distracting you but couldn’t figure out why. Eventually Steve checked his phone before waving the waitress down for the check where you two argued about splitting it before he ended up paying for the whole lunch. You kept eyeing him suspiciously the whole car ride home as he wore a big goofy grin on his lips like he knew something you didn’t. When he pulled up to the house, you saw Bucky’s truck in the driveway and you look over to Steve, “I thought he was working today?”

Steve smiled over to you, pulling in the driveway and turning off the car, “He was working. Just not at work.” He informed, getting out of the car.

You get out and follow him up the steps of the house, giving him one last suspicious look as he opened the door for you. You walked in and froze, looking around the living room. It was like Christmas had literally just thrown-up all over the house. There was a tall tree in the living room decorated beautiful, fresh poinsettias on every surface and stockings hung up on the mantle with yours, Bucky’s, and Steve’s names on them written sloppily in silver glitter. Then your eyes fall on Bucky who was standing there with a Santa Hat on and holding a box wrapped in gold wrapping paper, “Bucky…” You breathed out as you walked towards him.

Bucky set the present down on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he wore that big cocky grin on his lips, “Figured you needed some Christmas Spirit…” He murmurs out to you before pressing a kiss to your lips, “You didn’t get a Christmas last year because of all the shit. So I’m going to give you the best Christmas you’ve ever had, sweetheart.”

Your lips slowly curved up into a smile at him, your eyes for the first time in a long time filling with happy tears, “It’s beautiful and perfect.” You whisper to him, wrapping your arms up and around his neck, “Thank you.”

Bucky smiles, kissing your cheeks as the tears fell to kiss them away, “Almost perfect.” He said, releasing you from his grasp and picking the gold wrapped present back up and holding it out for you, “This is for you. Early Christmas gift.”

You took the box, gently unwrapping the paper and setting it aside before opening the box. You gasped at the nutcrackers staring back at you. Almost similar to the ones your grandmother had given you, the ones Charlie had broken last year. You gently ran your fingers over one of their faces, “They’re almost the same…” You whisper out, swallowing a sob. You suddenly frown up to Bucky, “I didn’t get you anything…”

Bucky grabs the box of nutcrackers, putting it down on the coffee table before wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as his other hand went up to the back of your neck, “Yes you did.” He replied with a grin, “You gave me your heart and love. That’s the best gift I could’ve ever received, sweetheart.”

You smile and blush at his words, standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his soft ones, pushing yourself against his body until he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist with a soft giggle, “I can think of another gift to give you…” You whisper with another giggle after trailing kisses up his jaw, smiling when you heard a small groan pass his lips.

“Dear god, at least take it upstairs.” Steve interrupts, adverting his eyes from the view of you tangled in Bucky’s arms, legs around his waist as Bucky’s hands had moved to rest on your ass.

“Gladly.” Bucky growls out, tightening his grip on you as he started for the stairs to take you up into the bedroom. He moved his hands to squeeze your bottom slightly as you left lingering kisses along his neck, nipping at his skin. He groans again then chuckles, “Oh, sweetheart… I love you.”

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Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday@stcrryslibrary @redhairedfeistynerd

@shawnie--jo @bvckys-doll Here is the part two for Last Love since we needed some fluffy happiness (:

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #modern!bucky #bucky barnes oneshot

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boxoftheskyking · 4 years

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Something Good, Part Twenty. The End.

I don’t know how cultivation works and I’m not about to learn now. There’s some blood here.

I can’t believe it’s done. Thank you everyone who has been reading, and everyone who’s left beautiful comments here, on AO3, in tags, yelled out a window. I’ve never finished a piece this long or in this way, and I would not have gotten further than 2 chapters without yous guys

Let’s get to it.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen

On the last morning of peace, Lan Wangji wakes up in Wei Wuxian’s arms. He smiles before opening his eyes, small and instinctive, and Wei Wuxian can’t not kiss him for it.

“Did you sleep?” Lan Wangji’s voice is rough, soft as raw cotton.

“No.”

“Hmm.” He presses his face back into Wei Wuxian’s chest.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s foolish,” he mutters against his collarbone.

“Tell me.”

“I am afraid.”

Wei Wuxian holds him tighter. “That’s not foolish.”

“I keep waiting for someone to come and fix everything. Wen Ruohan shouldn’t be allowed to do what he is doing. I want someone bigger than him to come put him in his place. I feel young and stupid and weak and I want someone else to be in charge.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s foolish.”

Wei Wuxian kisses his hair. “If we get all the sects together. Maybe all the sects and the citizens as well, we’ll be bigger than the Wens.”

Lan Wangji looks up at him. “What if we’re not?”

“I don’t know.” Wei Wuxian runs his thumb lightly under Lan Wangji’s eye, over his cheekbone, over his ear. “I don’t know, Lan Zhan.”

The Wens come as the children are changing into their play clothes after lunch. Wei Wuxian is waiting at the door when the older disciples come running to their room, eyes wide and confused. Lan Xichen follows.

“The Wens are here.”

“Fuck!”

“They’re commanding the disciples to leave today, now; they’ve got at least thirty armed men. We can’t fight and win.”

“Fuck, fuck, what do we do?”

Three Wen soldiers come up behind the running teenagers. “Hurry up! You should be packed already. Didn’t the Sect Leader tell you you’re going for indoctrination?”

Lan Wangji joins them, jaw so tight it looks like his bones are about to crack.

“Brother. What do we—”

“I can get the little ones out,” Wei Wuxian whispers, brain spinning faster and faster like a wheel heading down a hill. “I don’t know about the older kids.”

“We’ll have no choice; we have to send them.” Lan Xichen watches the flurry of activity with such profound regret that Wei Wuxian grabs his arm and turns him away from the soldiers.

“They’ll be all right. They’ll be hostages, right? Technically you still have an alliance, so there’s no reason to harm them.”

“We can’t just—” Lan Wangji cuts off as a little hand tugs on Wei Wuxian’s shirt.

“Wei-qianbei, what’s happening?” Lan Feifei asks, big round eyes tracking everything.

“Shhh, here, come back inside. Lan Zhan, I’ll get them to the back hill, okay? Just meet us there, with food if you can.”

Lan Wangji grabs his wrist, a question on his face, but he shakes him off and goes back inside. With luck, the teenagers will take a bit of time getting organized, but knowing the Lans it won’t be much.

“Disciples!” he says in a stage whisper, waving them all over. “Come here, we’re going to play a game.”

“A game?” Lan Ting asks, doubtfully.

“Yes, yes, gather around everyone. Now we have some visitors, and they want us all to go on a trip. So everyone will grab your bag and pack up everything you can. Clothes, blankets, whatever you have. Wen Ning, Lan Bin, Yao Hualing, help the little ones.”

“How is that a game?” Hualing asks.

“I’m getting to that part. What I want you all to do while you pack is to pretend to be the most badly behaved children in the world. I want you to whine and cry and yell and stamp your feet. Make a mess. When I ask you to do something, I want you to say that all you want is to see your bunnies. Can you do that?”

“I still don’t see how this is a game.”

“It’s a trick. We’re playing a trick on the visitors.”

“But how is it—”

“Then when I say the word, you’ll be your wonderful obedient selves again. It will be so funny! They’ll be so surprised.”

“That’s funny?” Lan Bin says, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, yes!” Wei Wuxian tries not to seem desperate. “They’re very strange men, very strange sense of humor. Trust me.”

“Isn’t that lying?” Su Meiling asks. “Lying is forbidden.”

“Not lying, no, it’s a joke, just a joke. Hanguang Jun says it’s fine, okay? Trust me. When I give the signal, start crying, okay?”

The children look around at each other, still not convinced, but Wen Ning says, “Okay, Wei-qianbei,” and that seems to be good enough for them.

“Okay, go!”

It’s silent for a long moment. Then Ouyang Zizhen gives a tentative, “No, I don’t want to?”

“Good, good, louder,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

“No!” Su Ming yells, stamping her feet. “I want my bunnies!”

“Yes, the bunnies!”

“I won’t go! No! No! No!”

“Beautiful, excellent! More!” Wei Wuxian lets the racket build, encouraging them, before messing up his hair and running to the door.

“Ah, Zewu Jun!” he says, loud enough for the soldier to notice. “These children are so willful! I can’t get them to pack their things.”

One of the soldiers comes over. “What’s the problem?”

“No, no, no, NO!” the kids yell from inside, and someone throws something against the wall.

Yes, perfect! He thinks.

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry. These children, they won’t travel without their bunnies.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the man sniffs. “Just get them packed.”

“I mean, I’m trying, sir. You’re welcome to try.”

The soldier grunts impatiently and pushes past him to the door. He opens it to utter chaos—someone has flipped their mattress, half of the kids are lying on the floor and wailing, and Lan Jingyi has no clothes on. I guess this is what’s hiding behind three thousand rules. Behind the soldier’s back, Wei Wuxian gives an encouraging smile and conducts them louder and louder. The soldier turns and he schools his expression back to overwhelmed as he runs over to wrangle Jingyi into his pants.

“What is wrong with these children?” the soldier demands.

“It’s their bunnies, sir, they never travel without them. They’ve got cages and everything.”

“Well, go get the damn bunnies then.”

“You know, I would,” he says, shoving a shirt over Jingyi’s screaming head. “But I can’t tell them apart. These children, they’re very particular. You know some bunnies are more energetic than others, some have favorite foods, or special—”

“Shut up, fool, just take the children and get them. I won’t listen to whining all the way to Qishan.”

“Right away, sir!”

Wei Wuxian shuts the door in his face and waves the children over. “Good job everyone! We almost have them fooled. Bags all packed? Excellent. Now we’re going to go to the back hill, so just keep crying and yelling until we get there. Okay? Good work.”

He leads them out, wailing and sobbing, and the older disciples freeze, staring at them.

“Oh no!” Wei Wuxian yells over the racket. “Such willful children! Shame on you all! We’ll be right back, sir!”

They pass the infirmary, where Wen Qing is waiting in the doorway.

“What the fuck, Wei Ying?” she hisses at him.

“Ah, Lady Wen!” he yells. “The most gifted rabbit catcher in Gusu! Please come, help us!”

She glares at him, but then sees the soldiers behind him and her face goes carefully blank. She follows.

When they reach the back hill, he gestures them all quiet and close.

“Excellent work, everyone! A-Ning, I need you to keep an eye on the path, let me know if someone is coming.”

“That was fun, Wei-qianbei!” Jingyi shouts. “I want to misbehave all the time!”

“Yes, you’re a prodigy, but it’s time to be quiet now. We’re going to go on an adventure, okay?”

“With the soldiers?” Lan Yixian asks.

“No, we’re going somewhere else. Okay? But we need to be quiet and fast.”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing murmurs. “You’d better have a plan. There’s no way we can outrun them through the forest on foot.”

“I need your knife.” He holds out his hand. She looks doubtful, but gives it to him. He cuts a long strip from the bottom of his shirt, leaving his stomach bare.

“Wei-qianbei, your belly!” Zizhen yells, pointing at the scar.

“Shh, Zizhen, it’s okay.” He spreads the cloth on the ground and makes a deep cut in his finger, starting to write.

“It’s a talisman?” Sizhui asks, leaning over his shoulder.

“Yes, A-Yuan, but it’s very complicated, so please be quiet.”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, one hand on his back. “I can’t power this kind of—”

“It’s not for you, it’s for me.”

“You’re not strong enough.”

“I have Chenqing. It’ll help.”

“It’s too risky.”

“Wen Qing, unless you have a better plan right now, let me work. I need you to go through first, make sure they land okay. Will you do that?”

She’s quiet for a long time while he writes. “Don’t make me watch you die,” she finally whispers.

“If I do, you won’t be here to see it.”

He finishes, rises, and holds the talisman in his hands, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He’s been shutting off the pull towards resentful energy for so long, it takes a moment to find it again, to open himself up to it. Chenqing isn’t a source of energy, but it’s a good conductor, so once he attunes himself to it the rush begins. It’s harder to feel the pit inside of him—he’s been too happy, too content, but if he pushes it’s there. He thinks about Wen Zhuliu, Wen Ruohan. He imagines Jiang Cheng’s face, Jiang Yanli’s, feels the pain of missing them. He sees the frightened eyes of the older disciples being marched away from home, Lan Xichen’s clenched fist, Lan Wangji’s rough voice saying I am afraid. He feels Wen Qing’s solid hand at his back. He opens his eyes and sees the children gathered around him, thinks Mine, mine, mine.

He flings the talisman out in front of him with a burst of flame, and it explodes into a swirling black portal a few feet off the ground.

“Go. Wen Qing. Go,” he grits out, already feeling his reserves of energy running thin.

Wen Qing takes a breath, nods once, then runs and leaps through the opening.

“Lady Wen!” Lan Bin cries. “Where did she go?”

“We’re all going,” Wei Wuxian says, fighting to get the words out and hold the opening. “Help the little ones.”

He has a vague idea of where the portal might lead, an open field in another part of Gusu, but he’s trusting Wen Qing to make a plan from there. He may have sent her off the side of a cliff or in the middle of a lake, but he has to believe it will work. It has to work.

Lan Bin looks doubtful.

“Please,” is all Wei Wuxian can say. The portal shimmers for a moment, losing stability, and Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes to focus again. He feels his feet root into the soil and deeper, into the mountain, the stone, veins of power eons old, power that sees all of human life come and go like a single drop of rain against a roof tile. Resentment grown centuries before there was a word for it, before there was reason, a time before logic.

It hurts. He’d forgotten how much it hurts.

When he opens his eyes again, Lan Bin is passing Jingyi through the opening.

“Wei-qianbei, I’m scared,” Yao Hualing says.

“I know. Me too. Just.” He groans through another burst of energy. “Get them through.”

Something rips inside him, a sail ripped from the mast in the middle of a hurricane, and resentful energy floods him. He feels it in the spaces between his heart and lungs, the invisible gaps between each drop of blood, his pores yawning open like canyons. He can’t see, can’t hear over the whispering, roaring, wailing that’s tearing through him. Hold on, just hold on he repeats in his mind, and the darkness answers give, give, give.

“Wei-qianbei!” Wen Ning cries, running from the road.

He forces himself to see, in flashes like a series of paintings. The last child’s foot disappearing through the portal. Wen Ning, appearing at his side. Lan Wangji coming down the path, followed by two soldiers. Sizhui, running for his father with arms outstretched.

“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian screams, but it’s too late. A soldier grabs him around the middle and holds him, sword unsheathed and held to his wailing throat.

“No!” Lan Wangji shouts, but as he takes a step closer, the soldier tightens his hold.

“Baba!”

“What do I do, what do I do?” Wen Ning gasps, crying, hands clenching.

“Go. Through.” Wei Wuxian manages.

“I can’t, I have to—”

“A-Ning. Go. Now.”

With a last look over his shoulder, Wen Ning dives through the portal. Wei Wuxian plants his feet and shifts his focus, transferring the current of power into his left hand, holding the portal open.

“Let him go,” he growls.

“Close the portal now, or I swear I will kill him.”

“Last chance.”

The soldier nicks Sizhui’s neck and his screaming cuts off with a tiny gasp that hits Wei Wuxian like a thunderclap. His vision goes red, dark at the edges, and his mind snaps.

MINE roars the darkness, and for once it’s in unison with the rest of him.

He lashes out his right hand and a cord of darkness, thin and strong as a whip, shoots out from his palm, curls around the soldier’s arm, and slices through. The man screams and tumbles backward, sword and arm together falling to the ground, blood spurting out and soaking Sizhui’s blue shirt to black. Sizhui shuts his eyes and freezes where he stands, little hands clenched at his sides.

The second soldier lunges forward, but Wei Wuxian flicks the whip back the other direction and catches him across the face, slicing open his cheek until half of his jaw and teeth are exposed.

“This is mine,” he says—it feels like nothing, just like breathing, but it echoes through the forest, shaking the trees and frightening the rabbits to run around them like a river current, screaming like ghosts. “You dare touch what is mine.”

The soldier stumbles upright and holds his face, half raising his sword, and Wei Wuxian pulls the whip back into the air, hovering in front of him. The blood soaking into the ground rushes up through him, the soldier’s pain. Sizhui’s terror hurtles through him, making him stronger. He feels hot blood against his neck, in his hair, as clearly as if he were in the boy’s place.

“Give me a reason. I dare you. I beg you. Give me a reason.”

Before the soldier can move, the tip of Bichen bursts through the center of his chest. Lan Wangji shoves him off the blade to flop onto the ground. Wei Wuxian watches his life wink out like a lamp and drinks it in, spinning it into darkness. Lan Wangji doesn’t wait to sheathe the sword, just grabs Sizhui up with his free arm.

“Wei Ying,” he says urgently, which shakes Wei Wuxian back to the moment. The fear, the death, it all gives him a burst of energy, but he can feel the end of it coming near, like stitching a torn cloth back together with the last few inches of thread. Hold, just hold, please just be enough to hold. He pulls the whip back into himself, dissolving harmlessly into smoke, and throws his right hand back to the portal.

“Go.” It’s still not his voice. He tries to get his voice back. “Lan Zhan, please, hurry.”

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen runs down the path behind them, taking in everything, the portal, the bodies, the bloody sword. “Wei Ying, your face—”

“Go!” Sweat is rolling down his cheeks, or maybe tears, or blood, or maybe all three. Lan Wangji looks back at his brother for a long moment, then steps through the portal.

“Zewu Jun, hurry, jump through.”

“No, I— Wei Ying, I can’t, the soldiers. They’ll burn it all down, they’ll kill everyone.”

Wei Wuxian groans and the portal starts to shrink.

“We’ll find you. We’ll go—”

“Go to Yunmeng.” Lan Xichen grabs Wei Wuxian’s wrist and forces a current of clean energy through him. He’s nothing but a conduit, hollow, but it holds the portal in place, blue light weaving in between tendrils of black smoke. “The rebuild has begun. Jin soldiers are there for defense. Lanling is preparing for war, and they will protect you. Stay off the roads.”

“You’ll meet us there? The older children—”

“I’ll look after them. I’ll make some excuse for you—”

“Tell everyone I took them. Demon Wei Ying. Tell them I tricked you, all of you, I stole them away. I’m an unknown, I’m on no one’s side. Say I killed them. The worst things you can think of, tell them, they’ll believe you.”

Lan Xichen nods once, face going tight with pain. “We’ll clear your name, after—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll hold the portal. You go.”

Wei Wuxian takes a halting step towards it, legs heavy as through iron chains were wrapped around them.

“Wait,” Lan Xichen says. “I”ll need— It needs to look like we fought. If I use my own sword—”

Wei Wuxian nods. “I’m sorry.” He lashes out—the whip is smaller this time, weaker, but it cuts up the side of Lan Xichen’s face and down across his shoulder, red blooming on his white robes. He winces, but his energy doesn’t falter. Shouts ring out through the forest, the sound of dozens of men crashing towards them through the trees.

“Take care of them,” Lan Xichen pleads.

“They’re mine.”

Wei Wuxian takes a step and throws himself at the portal, just as it begins to close. He hears Lan Xichen shout “Wei Wuxian!” behind him, then feels himself pulled in all directions, torn into pieces and slammed back together. His lungs are flattened, his stomach is missing, his eyes are backwards, his hands are multiplying like a flock of crows around him, choking—

And then, in an instant, it’s over. He hits the ground and lays flat on his back, gasping.

“Wei-qianbei!”

“Wei Ying!”

“Wei-qianbei!”

He’s surrounded by a flickering, moving mass that half blocks out the sunlight. He can’t see shapes, can’t see colors. Little hands on his face, his body, pulling at his clothes.

“I—” his mouth is dry, his tongue thick and heavy. “I—”

“Back, back, step back.” He knows this voice, these hands on his forehead. They feel his neck, his stomach.

“W— W— Wen—”

“Shh, shh, don’t talk.”

“ ‘vryone? Ev— ‘ryone?”

“Yes, yes, shh.”

“Where?”

“Other side of the mountain. Miles away.”

He relaxes into her hold. Time flickers, disappears, and reforms around him. He sits up, coughs, spits blood onto the ground.

The figures around him are still blurry, but he recognizes them. The children. Wen Qing and Wen Ning at his sides, propping him up. Lan Wangji is standing, staring at him, holding Sizhui. Wei Wuxian squints. Sizhui’s blue shirt is gone and he’s wrapped in red. Wen Qing’s outer robe, he realizes. His hair is soaked, drying stiff against his back, and there’s blood smeared across his cheek. His eyes are still closed and Wei Wuxian can see him shivering in Lan Wangji’s arms.

“A-Yuan,” he breathes, reaching out one hand.

“Wei-qianbei,” it’s little Lan Feifei. She reaches out and touches his cheek with one tentative finger. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“They’re not . . . right.”

“Oh.” He touches his face as well, as if he could feel the difference. “What do they look like?”

“They’re red. And your face, it’s so white. There’s black, here.” She traces uneven lines up his neck, across his temples, his cheeks.

“Is it scary, Feifei?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, sweet one. You’re being very brave. You’re all so—” he’s suddenly finding it hard to talk, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “So brave.”

“We need to move,” Lan Wangji says, not unkindly. “It’s too open here.”

Wei Wuxian struggles upright, a dozen little hands reaching out to hold him. They look wary, staring at his face, but they aren’t scared to touch him. He loves them so much he’s about to dissolve in it. Mine rumbles through him, not violent this time, but low and satisfied like a purr.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, and reaches out for his hand.

Sizhui suddenly turns his face and opens his eyes, staring over at Wei Wuxian. His face is blank, and Wei Wuxian wishes he had a scarf, a mask, something to hide his appearance.

“A-Yuan,” he starts, “I’m so—”

But then Sizhui reaches out and grabs his shirt, pulling hard enough to make him stumble. He crashes into father and son and wraps his arms around both while Sizhui hides his face in his neck.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian breathes, sweeping a hand over his hair and kissing the side of his face over and over. “I’m so sorry. You’re okay. It’s all okay now.”

It isn’t. It’s not okay now. But for a brief moment, as Lan Wangji holds all of them upright, they can breathe.

“We have a lot of traveling to do,” Wen Qing says. “It’s going to be difficult, and we’re going to have to be very sneaky. Can we do that?”

“Yes, Lady Wen,” a few children chorus.

“Where are we going?” asks Ouyang Zizhen.

“It’s a surprise,” Wei Wuxian answers at the same time Lan Wangji says, “It’s a secret.”

“But where—”

“How would you like to see your Wei-qianbei’s family?” Wei Wuxian says, meeting Wen Qing’s eyes. She smiles slightly and nods. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Your family?” Jingyi pipes up. “I want to go!”

“Good. Then we will. It’ll be a surprise for everyone.”

“What about my big brother?” Lan Hua asks.

“Yeah, and my cousin?”

“My brother too!”

Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, unsure.

“They will join us later,” Lan Wangji announces, the voice that allows for no doubts and no arguments. “We have to go our own way for now, but we’ll see them again soon. For now, we need to stay together and take care of each other. We are a family, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Hanguang Jun.”

“Yes, Baba,” Sizhui whispers. Wei Wuxian kisses his cheek again.

“Let’s get moving,” Wen Qing says. “At least down to the tree line, then we can make a plan. We should be able to go a few miles before dark.”

“If we find a graveyard for the night, I can—” he stops himself, looking at the children. ”We can be safe in a graveyard.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Wen Qing warns.

“I never overdo it. Come on, everyone. Gather your things.”

He presses his forehead into Lan Wangji’s shoulder for a last moment, then lets him go and bends to pick up Jingyi. The weight is too much for him, and he ends up back on his knees in the dirt.

“I’ve got him.” Wen Ning comes up and hauls Jingyi up on his hip. “It’s okay, Wei-qianbei, let me help.”

Wen Qing gets him upright again and they move off through the grass towards the trees.

They will walk for as long as the children can stand it tonight, and Wei Wuxian will call corpse puppets to watch over them through the night. He can see it all in front of him. It’s like reading a score and hearing the song come together in his mind. There will be rivers to cross, mountains to climb, caves and ditches to hide in night after night. They will be frightened and exhausted and starving. But they will arrive in Yunmeng, at Lotus Pier. He will row them all across the lake, and they will lean out of the boat to pluck lotus blossoms. Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli will meet them at the gate, and Wei Wuxian will fall into their arms. Jiang Cheng will protest, will yell, but he’ll catch him. And Yanli will take his ruined face in her cool hands and tell him that he’s home.

He tightens his arm around Wen Qing’s shoulders and gets an answering squeeze around the waist. As if he can hear their thoughts, Lan Wangji turns back and catches his eye. Wei Wuxian looks at him, singing the song in his mind, showing him the way. Lan Wangji nods, and Wei Wuxian smiles.

The End.

#assorted writings #something good #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #and that's it.

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1littleshippergirl1 · 4 years

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Please don't leave me!

Single father!Percy

Warning of mentions of suicide. Nothing graphic. Just a dream.

Summary: Little Lucy has a nightmare and goes straight to her daddy for comfort.

Percy covered his mouth to stifle his yawn. It was getting late, actually, it was late, now that he looked at the clock. Honestly, he should have been done with this report hours ago but time had simply gotten away from him, as it did most days. Right after work, he had to go pick up the girls from his Mum and Dad's, promising that one of these Sunday's he'd come over for dinner, agreeing with his Mum that it had been far too long since the last time and disapparated back to his flat.

Then, when he should have settled down to work on it until it was time to prepare supper, his girls begged him to partake in their game of princesses and cowboys, with him being the cowboy. He couldn't just say no; this was part of their developmental years, very critical from what he'd read in a load of those parenting books he'd read before each of them were born. After that, he cooked, they ate quietly, or as quiet as one could be with small children; they played some more until the dreaded bathtime where he had to wrangle them both in the tub without magic because he had the tiniest bit of paranoia that he'd drop one of them.

Somehow, Molly and Lucy made it to bed, despite their insistence that neither were tired whilst pleading with Percy for another five minutes. He'd stood his ground, instead placating them with a thousand hugs and kisses that they absolutely needed. It was just a ploy to ensure they would get their desired extra time, he wasn't that thick, but he wasn't going to say no to affection from his girls.

Once he made sure that they were asleep, or, in Molly's case, audibly counting her ceiling tiles but properly tucked in, he closed the door to their bedrooms and went back downstairs to the kitchen where he could try to finish that bloody report like the upstanding Ministry employee that he was.

Bugger. He wanted a drink, nothing too strong but a drink nonetheless.

It had been an excruciatingly long day, a long week, in fact. His job wasn't easy to begin with, add in the fact that he was constantly dealing with absolute tossers and co-workers who didn't belong there whatsoever, who barely lifted a finger which meant that he had to be the one to pick up the slack so as they would meet the deadline on time-or risk facing an irate Kingsley.

The Minister was fairly even tempered, good-natured, but when he had been provoked it was best to stay out of his way.

When he'd gone to drop the girls off earlier that morning, his Mum had taken notice of how worn he was. He hadn't acquired much sleep, his mind was on overtime trying to make sure they had everything for this project that Kingsley insisted he be apart of. His parents offered to keep the girls for the night so he could get some much needed rest and while the offer was nearly tempting, he politely declined. Purely because he didn't want to ever start to prioritize work over his family-he'd made that mistake once already.

And he wasn't going to repeat it.

Percy rubbed at his eyes, his palms pressed into his head Godric, his bed sounded nice right now. It was nearly midnight, well past when he should have slid into bed. But the report wasn't going to write itself and he had already procrastinated on it in favor of trying to ensure that his partners for the project were doing their work.

Sometimes, he scowled, he felt like he was back at Hogwarts. Trying to be the leader of the group and make sure that everything was getting done equally, even though he and everyone else knew he would just end up taking control of everything.

Which was exactly what was going to happen soon enough.

He'd just picked up his quill again, just about to touch the parchment when his ears caught the sound of footsteps that was coming down the stairs.

He sat the quill back down.

It must have been Molly, he figured, coming down for a drink that she thought she needed. Shaking his head, he slid his chair back with a slight screech, rising to his feet and making his way around the corner. He opened his mouth, ready to reprimand Molly for being up so late when the words he'd been going to say died on his tongue.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Lucy's wailing reverberated off the walls, a startling noise at such an hour. But that wasn't what made concern pool in the pit of his stomach, it was the way she was looking at him-as if...as if he was going to disappear at any given moment.

Her eyes, tearstained, puffy, there was some emotion to her a sense of franticness that Percy had never seen them before. It was disturbing, to say the least. Something had given her quite a freight: her hair was disheveled, knotty. She was woken up abruptly-by what, that part puzzled him.

She was clenching that owl he'd bought for her the day she'd been born-brown fur, yellow bulging eyes; she hadn't trayed away from it yet and he dreaded to think such a day would come.

She was breathing in short, quick intervals. She'd been crying, too. He spotted a trail of tears and snot that was running down her face, her lips trembling that suggested she was going to burst into tears once again.

He hadn't ever seen her that way, so it was unsettling for Percy to witness.

"Daddy!" she cried out again and before Percy could open his mouth, to come up with a sensible response, his daughter lunged herself at his legs, wrapping her tiny arms around his knee, grasping it tightly, pressing her face into it.

He blinked in surprise. Wha-

Percy had to gently pry her hands away in order to bend down so he could be at her level. That proved to only make Lucy even more distressed; she didn't want to be pushed away, she wanted to be with right there with him now. And Percy, he couldn't think of anything that happened earlier that day for this to be happening. His Mum and Dad never mentioned anything when he went to get them-or had Molly said something to scare her sister? If that was the case, she was going to be very sorry come the morning.

"Lucy?" he said softly, taking a piece of her hair and putting it behind her ear. "Sweetie, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

She shook her head, her hair swaying as she did so. It did nothing to help the anxiety that was swirling around within him, imagining all sorts of horrible things that could be upsetting her. But, he exhaled slowly, reminding himself that getting worked up wasn't going to help Lucy any.

"Did something happen at the Burrow?"

Again, she shook her head.

"Okay," he said slowly, "did Molly try to scare you again?"

Another shake of her head. This left Percy feeling a bit stumped.

And, by the way she was looking at him, Lucy was growing further upset that he didn't know.

"Lucy, I don't-" He was cut off, barely suppressing an oof sound when she threw herself at him again, wrapping her arms around his neck-her stuffed owl still in hand-burying her face into his shoulder. He felt the vibrations, felt her tears dampening his skin.

She was still saying daddy, daddy, daddy over and over. Still being said through her panic. Still, he imagined, through her wide eyes, making the blue color more pronounced.

It took a moment, his brain was on overdrive, between his exhaustion and concern shining through for his daughter, but he, too, wrapped his arms around her; picking her up, he sat on the bottom step, where he adjusted her so as she was sitting directly in his lap-halfway, anyway. Lucy still held a firm grip on him, seemingly determined not to let him go.

"Shhh," he whispered, holding a hand to the back of her head. "Shhh. Everything's okay, Lucy-Lou. Daddy's here. I've got you."

He was doing what he'd done when Molly had woken him in the middle of the night, screaming. She'd been okay after a bit, after being held and reassured She would calm down, enough that Percy could take her back to her room and tuck her into bed again where she would remain until the morning.

But Lucy wasn't like Molly and she wasn't calming down. His words-words that would've been alright to use with Molly-did nothing to placate her. If anything, they seemed to worsen things.

"Lucy-"

"Don't leave, Daddy!" Lucy shrieked and the wave of astoundment he felt was keeping his mind from idly wondering if the noise had woken Molly up at all.

"What?" he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stared down at his daughter, unsurely.

"Don't leave," she repeated, pleading.

"Honey," he didn't know where any of this was coming from. His job didn't entail him to go on any trips, none at all and he hadn't planned on going anywhere. He reckoned it was either Molly's doing, for this idea being planted into her head; or an act by one of his nieces or nephews as some practical joke. "What are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere."

"You won't?" He had to strain to hear her.

"No," he shook his head.

"Promise?" His daughter said anxiously.

"I promise," he reassured her, tenderly. "Now who told you I was going somewhere?"

Lucy ducked her head. "No one," she mumbled.

"No one?" Percy echoed suspiciously.

She didn't speak for nearly a minute and a half; when she did, her bottom lip was sticking out and she said, whispering, "I had a bad dream."

"You did?" he said sympathetically, finally understanding now.

She nodded.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

For a moment, hardly a second and if he'd blinked, he would have missed it-her eyes widened a smidgen, fear clear across her face. She hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. Finally, slowly, she nodded again. "You died, Daddy."

It was entirely unexpected, quite the opposite of what he'd been prepared for. A monster under the bed or in the closet, reacting to some story that she'd overheard Ron or George telling the older kids, or even something nonsensical that would later become something funny to tell a future boyfriend of hers.

But him dying?

That was far beyond anything he thought would come. He blinked down at his daughter, shocked but keeping a few, erm, more colorful words to himself.

"What?" was his less than eloquent response.

For the third time, she nodded, looking quite miserable. "It's true," she sniffled. "You died, Daddy. Uncle Goerge was there, too. He said you hurted yourself and fell."

"I...fell?" He said, confused.

"Off Grandmum and Grandad's house."

Then it became clear. Painfully clear. Percy looked down at his sweet little girl, unbeknownst to her how disturbed Percy was. She'd-she'd dreamt about him committing suicide, for Merlin's sake. How had something so awful come to her mind? He wasn't sure he wanted to know right now.

But it was hardly important at the moment, anyway. He would find out later (and hex someone into oblivion for making his baby girl cry); for now, he needed to make sure she was okay.

"It was really scary," Lucy told him.

"I bet it was," Percy subconsciously held her tighter, as if to shield her from it.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I don't want you to die, Daddy," Lucy said in the shakiest voice Percy had ever heard from her. His heart broke at hearing how distraught she was. She let out a sob, burying her face in the center of his chest. "Please don't die. Please."

"Shhh," he murmured, dropping a tender kiss on the top of her head. He rocked her a bit, ignoring the popping that was coming from his knees from being in a semi painful position. "Shh, don't worry, Luce. Daddy's here. Everything's alright."

She hadn't moved an inch and it was muffling the noise of her crying, but he could still make out what she was saying. "But what if something happens, Daddy? What if Uncle George was right?"

"Honey, you know Uncle George is never right," he tried to lighten the mood.

But Lucy was still crying, not finding his attempt at a joke humorous in the slightest. Percy sighed low under his breath, frowning. He'd dealt with the girls having nightmares before-Molly had woken him up a handful of times, wailing about a monster that she insisted was going to get her and it had been an easy fix. But this? What was he supposed to say or do to reassure her?

He wished his parents were there right about now, they would know. By the time they got to Ginny, his parents were an expert on that stuff-course, her nightmares were usually because of Fred or George-

His heart ached but he couldn't give into it right now.

Percy didn't quite know how long they sat there at the bottom of the stairs, report forgotten, his arms tightly wound around his daughter, murmuring soothing words to her. With his head resting on the top of her head, he closed his eyes, listening to the soft tick tick of the clock.

Lucy's crying eventually settled down and Percy suspected she was probably going to fall asleep soon enough. He was gently unclasping her hands from his shirt when she made a whining noise.

"Lucy," he said gently but was interrupted.

"No," she was shaking her head repeatedly, her resistance turning to panic. "No, no! Daddy, don't go!"

"Lucy," he tried to raise his voice enough so he would be heard over her cries, "it's okay, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere, I told you."

But it didn't console her like he'd hoped.

"Please, Daddy," she was peering up at him, her usually bright eyes were red again and he wanted nothing more than to never let her go ever again. "Don't leave."

"Never," he promised, squeezing her. "But Lucy, it's late. You need your rest."

"No," her lip was trembling again. "What if you fall, like Uncle George said?"

Percy took her by the chin, bringing her face up to meet his. He spoke firm but softly. "That will never happen. It was only a dream, sweetheart. It's not real. Everything is fine. I'm fine, see?" he took her hand and brought it up so she could feel his cheek. "Daddy's okay."

She was quiet, for a moment, mulling it over.

"How about I go sleep with you?" Percy suggested. "I'll be there the whole time and I'll even make waffles for breakfast. How's that sound, princess?"

"Okay," Lucy mumbled.

While keeping a grasp on his daughter, Percy stood to his feet, grimacing at the feeling that was shooting down his legs. He turned, taking Lucy upstairs, up to her bedroom. When they got there, he sat her down and took out his wand to transfigure his clothes into pajamas. He kicked off his shoes, crawling into the bed with his arm extended. Lucy immediately curled up next to him, his face momentarily splashed with her strawberry blonde hair.

"Is this better?" he asked her, running his fingers through her hair.

"Yes, Daddy," she said quietly.

He kissed her forehead.

"I love you, Lucy-Lou. Do you know how much I love you?"

"No."

He opened his arms-or as much as he could with her laying over his left forearm-wide for her to see. "Thiiiiis much."

She giggled.

"Love you, too, Daddy."

She was toying with the button to his pajama top when she let out a yawn.

He chuckled.

"Go to sleep, sweetie."

"Okay," she yawned again, snuggling closer. "Don't let go, Daddy."

"I won't," and he watched her, watched as her eyelids shut and her breathing evened out and her face relaxed. "I promise."

#percy weasley #lucy weasley #molly weasley ii #percy weasley fic #nightmares #mentions of suicide #harry potter #harry james potter #percy weasley fanfiction #harry potter franchise #father daughter relationship

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judediangelo75 · 4 years

Text

Little Do You Know...

Hi everyone! So this is gonna be a bit of a songfic featuring Talith (Talbott x Judith). This is gonna be a backstory of when Judith (and her best friend Brooke) ran away from Hogwarts. As I mentioned in one of my story posts, How Talbott Dropped the Question, Judith went back to her homeland, while pregnant with Talbott’s son, Bakari. This is what happened during that time.

There was gonna be implied sexual content, just as a warning.

Without further ado, here’s “Little Do You Know...” ( and the song that https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GP4okspbfMM)

--------------------------------

(Judith Harris) (Age: 17, close to 18)

(WARNING: IMPLICATION TO SEXUAL THEMES)

I woke up just moments before my sensitive ears picked up the soft whimpers of Bakari from his nursery.

'Must be time for his late night snack...' I mused quietly as I yawned quietly. I made a move to get up, but an arm tightened around my midsection, pulling me into a warm solid chest. The young man nuzzled my neck, breathing me in before settling again. I felt my cheeks warm a bit and the feeling of guilt creep from the bottom of my heart.

'He doesn't deserve this...'

Little do you know,

How I'm breaking while you fall asleep...

Little do you know,

That I'm still haunted by the memory...

Little do you know,

I'm trying to pick myself up, piece by piece...

Little do you know,

I need a little more time...

I carefully slipped out of Talbott's hold and rolled out of bed. Slipping on a black silk robe that stopped mid-thigh, I quietly exited the room to head to our son's nursery.

Our son...

Talbott and I have been together since we 16, a little after the whole Valentine's Day fiasco. I've fell for the Ravenclaw wizard even awhile before that. What started off as an innocent "He's cute" turned into "I fancy him", which then turned into "I love him."

Crazy how feelings work.

One of things I loved about him was how passionate he was in anything he was interested in.

His studies.

Herbology.

Transfiguration.

Poetry.

Love.

I bit my lip as my thoughts linger on the last one. Although he may not look it, Talbott is actually a very passionate lover. I should know...

I mentally shook my head as I enter my baby's room, his whimpers growing a bit louder as he slowly woke up. Rushing over to the crib, I picked up the little boy.

"Shhh, it's okay my love. Mama's here," I quietly cooed. I couldn't help to admire the young babe.

He came out with a full head of hair, which surprised the hell out of me. Though he inherited my dark brown hair color, he still inherited that gradient effect from his father. The tuft of medium to light brown hair rested on his forehead. His unfocused red eyes gazed up at me with tiny tears in the corners of them. His skin color seem to lean towards Talbott's the older he gets. Though, the shape of his eyes, nose, mouth and face resembled mine. The perfect mixed of Talbott and I embodied in this little being...

Bakari's whimpers quietly died down a little when I held him to my chest, his little hand fisting the material of my robe. I quietly chuckled at the babe's impatience. I walked over the rocking chair in the room, settling in for what might be another long feeding session. I shifted my robe and bra aside, gently guiding Bakari to my nipple.

The babe latched on and began to suckle as I leaned back and closed my eyes. Even though I've been doing this since he's been born, the sensation still feels strange. But a good strange...

Although I'll never regret having this little miracle in my arms, I regret the time I had him...

Talbott and I have been intimate a few times prior to me becoming pregnant. Only difference I was actually smart about it and took a potion daily to act as a birth control. I slipped up thanks to a lot of stressors.

Merula.

Ben.

Rakepick.

My brother.

My mother.

Classes and my studies.

Quidditch.

The final curse vault.

Tch, you name it.

I wasn't taking care of myself like I have been since the middle of 4th year. Talbott found out I was in the Hospital Wing after I passed out in Training Grounds with Brooke, who didn't hesitate to scold me once I woke up. Talbott spent a lot of time trying to take care of me whenever he had free time. I could help but to smile while he fussed over me, recalling the time he told me his mother was a Healer. He definitely picked up a few things from her.

When I got the okay from Madam Pomfrey, Talbott did everything he could to make sure I wasn't over stressed or overworked.

We were in his room one day, with him massaging the tension out of my shoulders from practice duels and being hunched over my books. I felt like jelly under his hands, leaning against his warm body with my eyes closed in bliss. With my hair up in a messy bun, my neck was exposed to his mouth. What started off as soft light kisses turned into gentle bites and sucking love bites into my skin. I turned around and kissed him heatedly.

Let's just say I was finally able to fully relax and rest for the first time in weeks...

But that was just the beginning...

Some time after our passionate time together in each other's embrace, I found myself face first the toilet, violently puking my guts out. At first I though it was probably a stomach bug aand visited Madam Pomfrey. I felt more than nervous when I saw the analyzing look she was giving me as I explained my alignment...

After a few questions (which spiked my nerves) and having to take a sample of my blood, Madam Pomfrey gently pulled me to the side so no one can hear us.

"You're pregnant, Miss Harris..."

My entire world just stopped at those two words. I remember shakily pressing a hand to my abdomen in disbelief. I quietly asked her how far was I. She said a few weeks, give or take. For weeks, I was pregnant with Talbott's child. I cried.

Out of fear.

Out of disbelief.

Out of happiness.

The Healer gave me a hug, calming my tears. I always was in the Hospital Wing one way or another, so I grew close to the older witch. And she was rather fond of me as well. Once I calmed down, she unfortunately had to drop a bombshell.

She had to inform my mother and the Headmaster. As a protocol.

I was okay with Dumbledore knowing.

My mother on the other hand...

I sighed, running my fingers through my son's hair.

I still remember the harsh sting and force of her slap when she visited me in Dumbledore's office. The throbbing feeling as I shakily touched my tender cheek as I gazed up at my mother from my sprawled position on the ground. The anger and disgust in her dark brown eyes. Her cutting words that sliced into me and left me to bleed.

"You bloody disgrace! You sorry excuse of witch! You were sent here to learn and keep your head down like an obedient, proper witch. Not spread your legs for the wizard population and endanger the students here! You never could do what you're told, can't you?! I should've aborted your sorry arse when I had the chance. Don't even think about coming back to my house, you whore. You're disowned and I never want to see your wretched face ever again! Do you understand me?!"

Dumbledore always seem to know I've had a very strained relationship with my mother. Especially since sightings of Brooke's and I's brothers sprang up again thanks to us freeing them. She wanted her baby boy to come home. But instead she had me. When she never wanted me...

The old wizard was shocked as he watched the woman send me one last scorching look before marching out of the office. I left curled up in a small ball, crying my eyes out and quietly whimpering for my Papa. Gods knows how long I remained on that floor. I remember the gentle hand on my shoulder and the soft coos of Fawkes as the phoenix nuzzled my hair, trying to soothe me. I didn't leave that room until I ran out of tears for the moment and I was presentable enough to leave. People talk and I don't want people trying to figure out why I looked like I was a mess.

I eventually got up and silently nodded my thanks to the Headmaster. His eyes were sad as he returned it. I petted the back of Fawkes' feathers before leaving. I kept my exterior emotionless until I reached my dorm. I placed a sound proof charm on my room before letting out a heart wrenching cry. I tore my entire room apart until I sat in the middle of the room, staring at nothing. And that's how my best friend found me.

Brooke hasn't seen me all day and heard that my mother came to visit. When she saw my unresponsive form in the mess that was now my room, she basically jumped over the rumble and held me. That's when the water works kicked in again and I cried in again in my best friend's arms. We were silent until I could compose myself. I quietly explained to her the whole situation.

My condition and my mother.

She was livid. She wanted to hunt her down so bad, I saw the rage in her eyes. But I quietly asked her to leave it be and to keep my condition a secret. She begrudgingly agreed, as long as I promised to make her the Godmother of my unborn child. I weakly chuckled and agreed. After cleaning my room, I carried on like nothing happened. No one knew about my condition but me, Brooke, and the staff at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout tend to fuss over me the most. They never want me doing anything to stress myself out, especially if I wanted to help them set up for class or clean up like I normally do. I often chuckled at them, saying I was fine, even though this pregnancy was a whole bitch and a half.

The morning sickness (thank goodness those passed after awhile).

Dizzy spells.

The sudden waves of fatigue.

The crazy intense cravings (I found myself in the Kitchens a lot for food, Pitts never complained. The old House Elf seem to care for me in a way, especially since my House founder provided the House Elves jobs at Hogwarts.)

The slight bump I had (I had to constantly wear my House robes since they were slightly bigger and hid the bump.)

The mood swings (I had to separate myself from a lot of our friends so I don't go from happy and chill to wanting to bash someone's head in or breaking out into tears in 2.5 seconds randomly.)

Talbott has his suspicions about me. We progressed rather far in our relationship. Where he was able to tell I was hiding something. Plus he noticed the slight weight I put on, though he never voiced this, I saw the curious look on his face. But he never questioned me because usually I would tell him, eventually. Though, how the hell do you tell someone that they're a father at the late age of 16 going on 17?

Lucky for me, I didn't have to.

More time passed and eventually, Brooke and I finally cracked. After she got attacked and lost her magic, and the pressure of the Curse Vaults (with Merula and Ben consisting reminding us) and the adults insisting we leave the Curse Vaults to them (especially me since I was literally carrying another human being inside me), we just couldn't take any more. We secretly made a plan to leave. Though not before leaving a goodbye to the young men we love. I spent one more night with him, getting him to go out with my on a impromptu trip to Hogsmeade and the forest. I spent as much time as I could with him because of the uncertainty of us seeing each other again. The next day, I skipped classes to prepare to leave. I silently cried as I wrote my note to Talbott, constantly having to wipe my eyes so I could see clearly. Brooke and I sneaked into their rooms when everyone was in Great Hall for dinner.

It was hard to leave the letter on his bed. Even harder to walk out of his room. The hardest of all was not even telling him about our unborn child...

But I had to. I didn't want to take him away from his life at Hogwarts. He aspired to become an Auror, to protect others from the Death Eaters, Dark Witches, and Dark Wizards. So they don't have to experience the same loss he did as a young child. He had dreams and I wanted him to be happy. I probably really was cursed. The fact that danger seems to follow me everywhere like a lost Crup puppy was ridiculous. And to tell him that he was gonna be a young teenage father? I would ruin his life before it could even begin. I can't be the girl he wants to be with...

He deserved better than a life with me...

Once we did what we needed to do, we grabbed our stuff and left Hogwarts, sparing one more glance at the grand castle before disappearing into the night.

Right away, we went into training. I tried to help Brooke hone and refine her skills as a werewolf. She was a bit worried about me since I was pregnant but I guaranteed her I was fine. I understood my body's limitations, and tried to take advantage of my lighter weight as much as possible. There were days where the babe in my womb would drain me of all my energy so I had to sit out or at least do the bare minimum of training for the day, which was instructing Brooke in archery.

Thanks to my constant drills by the time I was roughly 6 months, Brooke was an okay shot was much better at tracking and tapping into her werewolf side. I felt bad for being in such a state, especially since I feel like liability (I could still notch a bow and arrow and throw knifes, but was nowhere able to fight hand to hand if need be). I told Brooke that I wanted to go back home, where it was safe and I wouldn't be found. She agreed, especially since she wanted to find out more about her family. Taking the first Muggle flight to Barbados, I left Britain with a solemn goodbye.

I lived in my grandmother's old house, which was surprisingly since up and in fairly good condition. Some of the old neighbors from my childhood recognized me and offered to help clean up the place so I can rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. I was thankful for them and felt amazing to not have worry about anything for once.

Until Bakari decided that he wanted out. Jeez, I would never forget those contractions for shit. I was just happy when the local midwives cleaned up my baby boy and handed him to me. The love and happiness I felt as I gazed down at that chubby face and unfocused red eyes was immense and overflowing. I called Brooke not too long afterwards so she can visit her godson.

She nearly bust down my front door, eager to meet little Bakari. She would openly coo in his little face, smiling whenever she made him laugh or reveal a gummy smile. She wouldn't stop going on how she was gonna spoil him and teach him all her mischievous ways as the young babe blinked up at her innocently. I would roll my eyes in exasperation but I chuckle nonetheless.

So how did Talbott end up finding out me, our son and where I was at? Simple, he told me, Hagrid. Brooke went back to Hogwarts to scope out everything and to visit Hagrid. We both loved the gentle half giant but I warned her ass that the man can't keep a secret for shit. But she insisted it will be fine.

What was the biggest what the actual fuck of the century: Our brothers came back to Hogwarts to check in on us from trying to find Rakepick. Once they realize neither of us were at Hogwarts anymore, they went up to our friends and demanded answers. Bill and Talbott didn't take this too well, seeing how them leaving us impacted our personalities. Bill and Talbott were ready to fight them. That's when Dumbledore and Hagrid had to put a stop to it before it can get out of hand.

Jamal was rather distraught and angry, wanting to know where I was. Dumbledore tried to reason with him but he was too emotional to really listen. Hagrid meant to mumble to himself that he hoped Bakari inherited Talbott's sense of calmness over my brother's emotional behavior in stressful situations. Of course, damn near everybody heard him.

My brother fell deathly silent and stared at Hagrid, who embarrassedly mumbled how he shouldn't have said that. Dumbledore simply sighed and asked Jamal and Talbott to join him in his office. Where he explained everything.

To say that when I found Jamal and Talbott on my doorstep shook me to my very core would be an understatement. I wanted to shut the door and pretended that I was just dreaming, but I knew better. I let them in and we had a talk. Jamal wasn't pleased to find out that I got pregnant so early, especially who the father was (Jamal wasn't all that impressed with Talbott, thinking he wasn't good enough for me). I did tell him if he talked shit about me, Talbott, or our son, I would throw his ass out the window. I gave zero fucks if I gave birth three months prior and was still recovering, I would not let my "family" degrade me twice.

After proving I can do physical harm to him (clocked him right in the jaw, sent him flying into a wall) and not feel bad for it, Jamal did admit that he was just happy to know I was safe and healthy. And he seem to adore his nephew, even when he spat up milk on him (which I found HILARIOUS). As Jamal played with Bakari, Talbott pulled me aside into my bedroom.

"Why," Talbott quietly asked. I bit my lip as I look into those hurt eyes.

"It's better this way," I whispered. Talbott glared at me, not liking that answer.

"Better this way? For who," he snapped, his eyes growing misty with tears. I remained silent, looking at a nearby wall.

"Judith, look at me." I stubbornly ignored him, which he didn't like at all. A low growl escaped the back of his throat as he firmly grasped my chin so I look into those beautiful red eyes I fell in love with.

"Judith, answer me!" I clenched my eyes shut and roughly shoved him back.

"For you, okay! This is better for you," I hissed. Hot tears burned my eyes, clouding my vision of Talbott's shocked expression. I walked to the dresser, not wanting him to see me cry.

"I did this for you, Talbott. Okay? You already have so much going for you. You're one of the top students at school. You have dreams... goals... a future... I had to face the possibility of being expelled like my brother ever since I even came to Hogwarts when I wanted to keep my head down. I practically scream 'DANGER'. You were right to be weary of me from the beginning. Being around me would only bring you trouble, worry and pain... To suddenly trap you with a baby because I was stupid enough not to take my potions? That's unfair to you. You deserve better than that... than me..." I choked on a sob as my body shook from the force of my sadness. I never heard Talbott come up from behind me.

I gasped when I was swiftly grabbed and turned around by my waist. I didn't have time to breathe when a pair of lips claimed my own. I felt my heart thundering in my chest as I stared at Talbott who picked me up by the back of my thighs and placed me on the dresser. His lips were demanding and harsh as they moved against my soft, vulnerable ones, bruising them slightly. He ended the short but intense kiss, staring down at me.

"Let me decide what good for me..."

After that, Jamal stayed a few days to relish in our dad's homeland before leaving. He made a promise to visit soon and left Talbott a warning to take good care of me. Yes, Talbott ended up staying here in Barbados. He told me he had a personal talk with Dumbledore that he was leaving Hogwarts to stay here to be with me and our son.

That was over 6 months ago. And to this day, I still feel guilty.

I felt like an obligation, a responsibility that he had to take care of.

And I have a hard time forgiving myself for doing this to him...

Living together has been much harder than I think either of us expected. It was hard for me to find comfort in his arms like I used to without the guilt threatening to eat me alive. I constantly kept him at arms length, which he didn't like at all. Talbott gotten used to touching me in some way during our time at Hogwarts. In public, it would be us holding hands or and causal touch. In private, he liked to hold me a lot. His favorite way of greeting me was a hug from behind. This sudden cut off seemed to trigger him a little and become slightly clinger, especially in his sleep. And this wasn't technically easier for me either, I find it harder to stay away whenever he gets close.

Doesn't help with me being insecure about myself either. I literally gave birth roughly 9 months ago and it bloody shows. My hips ended up growing a few inches and the baby fat seem to cling onto me. Around my thighs, butt and stomach. The fact I breastfeed Bakari as made my chest full with milk and giving me all types of back issues. And let's not forget my new stretch marks around the areas I gained the most weight. I didn't care what I looked like before Talbott showed up, but with him here and knowing how he likes physical touch made me embarrassed and guilty all over again. I'm the mother of his child at 17. Not a happy reminder.

Then there were the arguments. Talbott wanted to talk about my time before Brooke and I left Hogwarts and I remained tight lipped about it. He knows talking about my feelings is one of the major things I was bad at. I find myself snapping at him to leave it be, telling him that he was a hypocrite on wanting his own privacy when he can't seem to respect my own. I knew my anger was misplaced but I found it difficult to apologize. I found myself in a neverending hole of guilt.

I want to apologize.

To talk to him.

To cry in front him.

To hold him.

To be held by him.

To kiss him.

To surrender my scarred heart to him.

To love him.

Deeply.

Dearly.

Fiercely.

To the point, it was borderline terrifying.

But I can't allow myself that form of vulnerability. I was scared. Scared that he'll finally open his eyes and realize everything. That this was all a mistake. That he should've never left Hogwarts.

That he should've never met me.

If he were to suddenly were to up and leave one day, I wouldn't be mad. I would forgive him within a heartbeat.

But forgetting him, however...

Underneath it all,

I'm held captive by the hole inside...

I've been holding back,

For the fear that you might change your mind...

I'm ready to forgive you,

But forgetting is a harder fight...

Little do you know,

I need a little more time...

I sighed after Bakari finally latched off. I checked the time and chuckled. Nearly 40 minutes...

'Hungry little tike...' I mused as I readjusted my bra and robe. Grabbing a small cloth, I throw it over my shoulder and placed Bakari on my shoulder. Patting his back so he burp up any gas lingering in his little tummy. After a few minutes, I heard a few tiny burps and a yawn. I chuckled and cradled him in arms.

"Nice and full, huh," I asked. A little gurgle was my answer. I let out another soft chuckle before softly singing the song my father taught me. Bakari seems to sleep better whenever I sing to him, which reminds me of his father. I watched his droopy eyes slowly flutter close before falling asleep. Slowly, I rose from the rocking chair and placed him back into his crib. I gently brushed some of his hair from his forehead.

"Goodnight my little prince. Mama loves you," I whispered. I quietly left the room and paused. I wasn't fully ready to go back to bed...

Instead my feet lead me to the patio.

----------------------------

(Talbott Winger)

I'll wait... I'll wait,

I love you like you've never felt the pain, I'll wait...

I promise you don't have to feel afraid,

I'll wait...

The love you see right here stays,

So lay your head on me...

I turned what felt like the umpteenth time. I open my eyes to look at the empty side next me. The spot was faint from her warmth. A warmth I missed dearly...

I've been in the weird limbo of heaven and hell ever since I found about Judith... and our son.

I can't express what kind of gift that she has brought to my life. I understood what kind of trouble I could be tangled with associating myself with her. But there was no escaping the Cursed Children of Hogwarts.

Or Cupid's arrow for that matter...

I haven't loved anyone else outside my family, who were long gone. But it wasn't until I started getting closer to the girl with mystical gold eyes that I felt a different kind of love.

Something more intimate.

Intense.

Sweet.

Terrifying.

I never thought I would have a crush, given how anti-social I am. Nor did I expect said crush to return those feelings, given the way I am. But life has a funny way of proving you wrong. I never thought I would even be in a relationship. I was so against becoming attached to anyone in fear of losing them. But the more I spend time with her, the harder I found it to stay away.

To the point I gave up trying.

Everything about her was captivating. I found myself loving every part of her, even the parts of her that she struggled to love herself. From her scars down to her cute kitten like sneeze.

I love her and wanted her to know that. Even though I was more so reserved, I still would try to express my feelings towards her. Because I know that she has her moments where she holds back from me. I wanted give her the same love she gave me.

A love where it feels like she was never left alone...

A love where it feels like she's never been in pain...

A love that tells her that I'll wait for her until she's ready...

Little do you know,

I know you're hurt while I'm sound asleep...

Little do you know,

All my mistakes are slowly drowning me,

Little do you know,

I'm trying to make it better, piece by piece...

Little do you know,

I, I love you till the sun dies...

Sighing softly, I got out of bed and slipped on some pajama shorts. Glancing over to my side of the bed, I slipped on the ring Judith gave to me on Valentine's Day before heading over to the nursery.

Quietly I opened the door and frowned to see no signs of the girl. I crept inside and made my way over to the crib. I smiled at the sleeping babe.

When Dumbledore told me that Judith was pregnant with my child, I was completely speechless.

"Professor Dumbledore, what did Hagrid mean by 'I hope her son is more like me rather than Jamal?'," I asked when we were inside the Headmaster's office. Jamal had yet to say a word ever since then, possessing a far way look in his gold eyes.

'The same eyes as Judith...' I mused quietly to myself, fiddling with the ring around my finger. I missed the girl dearly. I was hurt and heartbroken when I read the girl's letter. She's all I have, she should knew that anywhere she would go, I'll follow. No questions asked.

The old wizard sighed, bringing me back from my thoughts.

"I'm sure you already have a decent guess by what Hagrid means by that, Mr. Winger. But I'll explain. Before Miss Brown and Miss Harris disappeared, Miss Harris has been feeling ill for awhile. She went to report this to Madam Pomfrey, who had her suspicions but had to run a test to be sure. The test came out to be positive... Miss Harris was pregnant..." I felt everything stop for a few moments. Judith was pregnant...

With my baby?

"WHAT?! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT SHE NOT ONLY DISAPPEARED BUT SHE'S PREGNANT?!" I almost forgot Jamal was even here. Dumbledore let out another sigh.

"Yes, Mr. Harris. Your sister was indeed pregnant... with Mr. Winger's child." Sharp gold eyes glared at me, fury dancing in them.

"You were the one who deflowered my baby sister?! I outta-"

"Enough." The short command from Dumbledore force the hotheaded wizard to back down.

"I understand you're deeply worried about her, Mr. Harris but hurting the father of her child is not going to bring her back," the Headmaster advised. The young man grumbled under his breath, sparing me a side eye. I resisted the urge to roll my own. Granted, this isn't the greatest first impression I wanted to give when first meeting Judith's family but from what I can understand so far, she doesn't have the greatest relationships with them. At least with the ones who are still alive.

"How come she couldn't just stay with our mother," Jamal asked. I was rather curious about that too. Judith rarely spoke of her mother. Maybe a memory with her and her brother but not much else...

"Your mother, Jamal, disowned her." We both froze. What...?

"D-d-disown?! Our mother wouldn't-"

"She would and she did," Dumbledore stated coldly. I felt my chest ache. So Judith really did have hardly anyone left...

And part of that is my fault...

"Do you know where she is," I asked. Dumbledore sighed and shook his head.

"I... I think I do..." I swiftly turned to Jamal, eager to find her.

"It's a long shot that she'll be there," he warned. I stared him dead the eye.

"I'll take whatever chance there is." Jamal seemed pleased with this answer, saying we'll leave by sunrise before exiting the room. I turned to Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore, there something I wish to talk to you about before I go..."

I pulled out of the memory thanks to my son's sneeze. I chuckled, playing with tuft of hair the resembled my own.

"Bless you, little one," I said softly. The little boy yawned before settling again. Never would I thought to have a child so soon...

But I love the boy just like I love his mother. Sparing one last glance at the sleeping babe, I left his room. If she's not in Bakari's room, then she must be in the patio out back...

With that destination in mind, I made my way start to the sliding door that led to the backyard of Judith's grandmother's old home. Sure enough, I saw her form leaning against the gate lead out into the backyard. Stepping outside, I came up behind her. I didn't hesitate to wrap my arms around the young woman, pulling her against me. I nuzzled her hair, taking in the sweet scent. Judith wriggled in my arms.

"Talbott-"

"Judith, please. Stop running from me," I whispered, tightening my hold on the young woman. I pulled her with me to the small couch that was there. I sat down, pulling her into my lap. Brushing her hair to the side, I nuzzled the soft skin of her neck while squeezing her close.

Whenever I do get the chance to hold or touch her, I couldn't help to notice her post pregnancy body. Her hips did grew a few inches and she gained more weight in the lower half of her body and in her stomach. I find that my hands tend to gravitate to those areas more, enjoying the softness of her skin and curves. The biggest give away would be the stretch marks on her belly...

"Talbott, must you really touch me there," she whined, swatting my hands again from her stomach. Part of me wanted to pout. I was deprived of her love and affection for months since she disappeared. I was robbed of one of my greatest comforts in this cold world. I'm tired of being denied.

"What's wrong with me touching you? You never complained before," I challenged with a glare. She returned it but her blush ruined any chances of her looking intimidating.

"Well I do now. Not when I look like this..." I frowned.

"Like you were pregnant?" Her blush grew worse as I leaned in and started kissing her cheek.

"Like you were pregnant with my child?" I purred in her ear. I'm not above admitting that I had a possessive streak when it came to her. She is a very lovely woman, any man would be lucky to have her and gain her affections. I was jealous of Andre at first, seeing how much time they spend together and how they went to the Celestial Ball when I chose not to go. Andre liked her more as a friend and part of me thought she saw him the same way. Hearing her admit that she never saw him that way and she only had eyes for me eased that jealousy.

She owned my heart, and always will. She was mine just as much I was hers. Knowing that she carried and delivered my child, watching her take care of him stroked the possessive side of me. She was the perfect mother for our son...

"Talbott..." the soft gasp interrupted my train of the thought. I seem to move without thinking as I found myself kissing on her neck. I pulled away to look at her. Her sweet face was flushed, her gold eyes reflecting her hesitation and uncertainty. I sighed, reigning my desire for the young woman in my lap.

"Judith... we really need to talk... I miss you so much, little bird," I whispered against her neck. I felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"You..." she trailed off. I pulled away, just enough to look into her gold eyes.

"Judith, I know you feel guilty about everything that led us to this point. But please listen and understand that I feel the same way. I ended up getting you pregnant with Bakari, which led to your own mother disowning you. When you already barely had anyone to lean on. I should've noticed something sooner, so you wouldn't have to suffer alone. Where you didn't have to feel like you were alone. I love you and want to be with you... always," I said. Tears brimmed in those pretty eyes of hers.

I'll wait, just wait,

I love you like I've never felt the pain, just wait...

I love you like I've never been afraid, just wait,

Our love we see right here stays, so lay your head on me...

"Oh Talbott... I'm so sorry," she whimpered. I hugged her tight, tucking her head underneath my chin. I quietly shushed her as she cried, running one of my hands through her long strands.

"I never wanted you to believe that this was your fault. I didn't want to trouble you further. Even when you got here. Parenthood isn't easy as I come to learn and I didn't want to burden you with a child. I love you too much to do that to you. So when you came and said you were staying, I hated myself. I felt like I made you walk away from a potential future that'll bring some good in the world. Like you had to come and be with me because of Bakari. I was scared... hell I'm still am. That'll you'll one day wake up and realize being with me is a massive mistake," Judith whispered. I felt my chest tighten as she aired out her grievances. I've learned that she doesn't like speaking about her feelings or emotions, why I can never stay mad at her when she snaps at me. I'll be frustrated, yes, but I can never stay mad.

"Darling, look at me..." I felt her flinch, but she came out of her little hiding spot. I noticed the little tear streaks on her cheeks.

"I could never look at our relationship as a mistake. Ever since I lost my parents, I thought I'll never experience another good thing in life again. I thought that for a long time...until I met you. You gave me one of the biggest blessings I've ever had in my life. Someone to love. Someone to trust. Someone to rely on. Someone to look out for and take care of. You gave me you. Everything about you is beautiful to me. And I love you despite everything that you've been through. I would never want to leave you. Anywhere you go, I would follow. We don't have to be alone anymore. Please let me back into your heart, little bird. I miss you... I miss us. You can depend on me," I pleaded with her. I wanted her to hear me, really hear me. Her eyes were still misty with tears but a small smile tugged on her lips.

"Oh Talbott... I miss us too. And... thank you... for being patient with me. I know I didn't make it easy for you... I love you," she whispered, our eyes locking. I smiled.

"I love you too, darling," I said, pecking her lips. I felt her purse her lips against my own before I pulled away. She pouted and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Talbott..." I shivered at the sound of her voice. Low with a husky edge. I squeezed her closer, leaning in again. Our lips met for another kiss and I was pleased when the young woman kissed me back. The kiss was slow but spoke of an underlying desire for each other. I felt one of her hands tangle in my hair, it's twin slipping under my white tank top. I groaned against her soft mouth. My arms snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against me. She let out a soft hum at my unspoken need to have her as close as possible. The kiss ended with a soft smack.

Her gold eyes held a seductive spark, threatening to set me ablaze from the inside out. Without another word, I picked up her bridal style and heading back inside. Reaching the bedroom, I carefully laid her down against the mattress. My hands found the curve of her hips while my lips reacquainted themselves with the sensitive skin of her neck.

"You sure you want to do this," I mumbled against her neck. Judith's body shivered as my cool breath ghosted over her warm skin.

"I'm positive, Talbott... please, make love to me..." was her soft plea. I pulled away from her neck to look into that angelic face.

"I'm right here, darling. I'll give you what you need," I said softly before capturing those sweet lips in another kiss. Judith's arms wrapped around my neck as she leaned back, pulling me on top her soft body. Her thighs cradling my hips, pulling me even closer. I shuddered when I felt her bite my lower lip, tugging on the flesh teasingly.

Fuck.

My impatient hands found the sash of her robe, undoing the knot and slipping the silk material from her body. I broke the kiss, my eyes drank in the sight of her. Every dip, every curve, every scar, every mark.

Beautiful. Every bloody inch of her. Just beautiful.

And all mine.

I took my time making good on those two claims.

I took my time to worship her. Caressing her soft skin, leaving loving kisses in places she felt the most insecure, whispering soft words of adoration and praise into her skin, tracing every mark with loving attention...

But that didn't mean I held back my desire. Sucking love bites into delicate skin of her neck, lower stomach and inner thighs, taking my time in removing what's left of her underwear, teasing her sweet spots and listening to her needy little moans for more, and my favorite: making her fall apart under my teasing mouth and tongue. Judith was a woman who prefers to keep herself and emotions in check. Watching with red hooded eyes as she wriggles and squirms against the sheets, biting her kiss swollen lip to keep her from vocalizing her evident pleasure, and finally locking eyes with me as she rocks her hips against my lips before coming undone.

Her sweet cry of my name is one of most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. I left a lingering kiss on the little gem in between her legs before pulling myself up to kiss her. Despite her slightly spent state, she tugged down my pajama pants and boxers in one go. I chuckled at her eagerness.

That didn't last long when she set out to give me the same treatment. I felt my sanity slip inch by inch with every sensation on my body. Especially when I felt her lips wrap around me. Soft grunts and moans escaped my throat as she worked me just right. I had to push her off me, not wanting to finish so soon.

She understood and allowed me to lay her back, settling in between her thighs. She whimpered as I gently pushed in. Leaving kisses on her face, I continued until I bottomed out. Gods, nothing can compare to being connected with her on this intimate level...

After a few moments, she nodded her okay for me to continue. Rocking my hips against her, I slowly moved in and out. Her mouth fell open, letting out soft gasps and little moans. Her voice was hush, as if she was whispering a prayer.

Softly she urged me to give her more, squeezing my hips with her thighs. I groaned against her shoulder and rocked harder against her, still keeping the tempo slow. She moaned her approval, moving against me. I bit my lip, eyes rolling at the feeling of her squeezing around me.

Seconds later, I found myself on my back. Judith stared down me with heated eyes as she rolled her hips in circle. I cursed beneath my breath, setting my hands on her hips to encourage her to do it again. And she didn't disappoint.

The room was filled with sounds of our moans, quiet confessions of love and the creaking of her bed. I felt a pressure slowly begin to begin more and more as she rode me.

I tried to pull her off, warning her that I was close. But Judith grabbed my hands and pinned them to the sides of my head. She lowered herself until our faces were inches apart. Her gold eyes bright with desire and love. She lowered her mouth close to my ear, whispering to fill her and mark her as mine. Pleading in my ear, begging me to let go with her. She drew a shape I couldn't remember and I lost it. With her name on my lips in a heated gasp, I gripped her hands tightly as I grind up against her. Judith moaned my name in delight, pulling me into a sweet kiss.

Coming down from our high, the young woman crawled off me to snuggle against my chest. I ran a hand up and down her back as she rested her head over my heart.

"I love you, Talbott," she whispered in the dark. I let out a chuckle.

"I love you too, Judith," I said back. I pulled her back up so I look at her face, admiring her lovely features.

"Talbott, as much as I love having you here with me, I still want you to finish your education and live out your dream," she told me with a serious expression. I frowned.

"I'm not leaving you, little bird," I grounded out, squeezing her close.

"But-" I pressed a kiss on her lips, silencing her.

"I refuse to be without you again, Judith. I'd be damned..." Judith gazed up at me with a flushed face before sighing.

"I'm not gonna like this... but I'm willing to compromise," she offered. I rose a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

"If you agree to go back to Hogwarts, I'll come back to Britain with you. But I'm not going back to the castle," she proposed. I thought about this for a few moments. It's been a few months but I'm sure I'll be able to catch up with everyone else and still graduate on time. And Judith will be with me...

"If we go back, I'll be keeping you up to date with your studies. Just because you're not in Hogwarts, doesn't mean you can't get a form of an education," I inserted. The girl groaned.

"Ughh, fine," she relented. I chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"We can work out more details in the morning, darling," I said as she let out a little yawn.

"Mmm... alright. Goodnight, Talbott. Thank you and I love you," she mumbled.

"I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth, little bird. Goodnight, and I love you too..."

#hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mc #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott winger #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott x mc #judith harris

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kdrama-songs · 4 years

Text

Jung Hae In - Just Follow What I Say

► Requested Open? : Yes

► Word Count : 1460

► Rated : M

► Contains : Smuts involve

"It hurts." You pouted, you were rolled on your tummy, fingers playing against the sheets in the dim room.

Hae In sucked in a breath, his eyes a bit wet with worry as he examined your body up and down.

It was tinged a variety of different colors, pink, red, some purple intermixed with the older bruises. The skin seemed to vibrate with a soft hum next to the silence of the entire room.

"I'm sorry." He choked out, gnawing at his bottom lip.

He hadn't meant to grip so tight, to use so much force, he didn't mean to draw blood in some places, he didn't mean for any of that to happen.

Sucking in a breath that hurt your ribs to do, you moved your neck the best you could, looking down at your hips and behind, examining the bruises and small nicks here and there.

Hae In watched you as he swallowed deeply, his body far away from yours, curled up and holding himself up, he didn't know what he could do for you.

"Hae In, it's okay." Flicking your eyes up, you focused on his face, it was staring at your behind, your neck, your arms, everywhere Hae In had touched you only moments before.

"Hae In, I agreed to this." You shook your hair out your face a little, wincing but trying to contain your reaction so you wouldn't worry Hae In any more than he already was, but it didn't work.

"I did this to you." He sounded like he wanted to cry, his own eyes not leaving your body.

You mustered up a small smile, pulling up your arms up against your body's own screams to simply leave them be, propping yourself up on your elbows, Hae In's eyes maneuvered their way to yours, meeting them with a sad kind of glint.

"Hae In, I agreed to this. I consented, I knew what I was getting myself into." You laughed airily, your carefree attitude causing Hae In to jump forward a little in surprise.

"But I hurt you, ___." He shook his head, light and dark brown pieces of hair falling into his eyes as he closed them, and you sighed again.

"Yeah, you did." Breathing out again, Hae In peeked at you once the words left your mouth.

He was about to presumably apologize again, before you held up one of your fingers, signaling to be quiet.

"But, I knew what you liked. I wanted to give you what you enjoyed, and it's not like I'm dying Hae In. It's just some bruising and a little blood. I'll be fine." You pointed your sentence with a smack of your lips, hoping your point was conveyed to Hae In, but he only shook his head again even harder.

"No, I'm sorry ___." He was intense, his concern warming up your tummy as you watched him scoot closer to you, his hands hesitant as they came to cup at your face.

Hae In expected you to wince, to pull back, but you only closed your eyes and relaxed into his hands, a small smile creeping up onto your face.

"This is never happening again." He looked at you with determined eyes, unwavering as the words left his mouth, and you shrugged your shoulders.

You didn't answer him, only watching as his hands drifted over your body, ghosting near the places he had previously been squeezing, gripping, smacking, and biting.

You weren't a stranger to what Hae In had liked, you noticed he always gripped you like he couldn't get close enough to you, sucked at your neck like he wanted to swallow you whole, pumped into you with an intensity that would turn you into a mess.

You had wanted him to let go, stop containing whatever it was he wanted to do to you, to treat you like you were there for his pleasure only, it's what you had wanted for him and for you.

Had Hae In went overboard? You couldn't decide, the bruises on your body that were forming from his grip as he had pumped into you, the bites along your neck, some red with blood, those all pointed to yes, he did go overboard.

But it had felt good, you didn't feel good at the moment, but Hae In letting his control slip away and use you for his own pleasure was pleasure for you. You wanted to tell him that, but Hae In was too focused on the results of his actions that it wouldn't have mattered, so you only pursed your lips and blinked up at his face as he examined you still.

He pulled himself up, sliding off the bed as you cocked your head, his soft footsteps making hardly any noise as you watched his body travel off, and you frowned, resting your head into the bed, unsure what was going on anymore.

Moments later, he returned, and your eyes watched with curiosity as he toted something towards you, his eyes cast downward the entire time. He folded himself onto the bed again, reclaiming his spot next to your body that was still rolled over, hair falling over your shoulders and playing around your ears as you continued to examine him.

"I-I... Lay down." Hae In's voice was small, and if it wasn't for the silence of the house, you wouldn't have heard him.

"What is it?" You asked, voice much louder than his and you watched him wince as he began to scoot closer to you, sounds other than voices now filling the air.

"Shhh. Just lay down please."

You complied, not really wanting to keep your head up anymore anyways. The soft bed below enveloping your scalp as you sighed lightly, closing your eyes as Hae In shuffled a little more.

"Let me know if its too cold."

You tensed as you felt a cold compress began to swipe at your body gently, traveling lightly over the bruises and small wounds. Hae In watched with tired eyes as your body fell and rose with every breath you took, worry still painted against his features.

The cold compress made its way all over your body, and you felt content. The silence and Hae In's slow breathing lulling you away as he continued. This went for a while, small cold swipes while Hae In's hand free hand rubbed lightly at your muscles.

Finally, the cold compress slipped from your body, and you almost completely felt taken over by sleep, not bothering to move as you felt Hae In's hands began to travel, dropping a cover over your body as you hummed, the pain almost completely subsided now.

His mouth tickled at your ear, and you smiled as his lips opened and small bits of breath played against your skin.

"Lets take you a bath, it'll help the bruises and swelling." He whispered, one of your eyes opening to meet his as he pulled away from your ear.

"Can we just cuddle for a bit?"

Hae In pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing lightly.

"No, bath. I want to make you feel better."

"I already feel better. And I want to be cuddled right now."

Hae In shook his head, more determined this time.

"___, we have to-"

"Hae In, please." You closed your eyes, wanting nothing more than to relax and fall asleep next to Hae In for a bit, and you felt him waver next to you, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

"Only for a bit." He chided, and you smiled, feeling his body tentatively glue itself to you, and Hae In winced as he felt you slowly start to glue yourself to him.

"Be careful."You gently placed your head into his open arm, the pain completely gone now as Jongin rubbed his eyes, your bodies completely intertwined now.

"Okay."

And you both stayed like that, Hae In's hands coming up to swirl patterns along your body and his breath tickling the top of your head.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine Hae In."

"I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you like that."

"I know you didn't."

Hae In pursed his lips, unsure of what to do. He watched your body evenly breathe against him, his eyes wet still.

Your breathing evened out eventually, and soft puffs of air came out, signaling to Hae In you were fast asleep.

He stuck out his lips, letting them make contact with your forehead, slick with drying sweat and he smiled despite his inner turmoil.

He hadn't meant to hurt you, hadn't meant to squeeze you and bite at you so hard, and as he watched your body fast asleep, plastered to him without a fear to spare, he couldn't help feel relief that you knew that too.

#junghaein #smut #fanfiction #kdrama

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maevesdarling · 4 years

Text

The Terror/His dark Materials AU

I'm too busy to finish this right now but I thought I'd post some small scraps of what I wrote in the past few days about this AU. If you want a detailed list of everyone's daemons please say so. Let's be honest I'm gonna post it either way...

Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier had forced a smile on his face as he watched the people on the pier waving after the two ships. Some women were openly weeping after their husbands or sweethearts, their daemons pressed tightly against them in comfort.

Next to him, Meabh made a small boof sound in the back of her throat. Her dark gaze was fixed on the two women in the middle of the pier. Lady Jane was holding herself together as best as she could, her monkey daemon sitting on her shoulder, occasionally tightening the grip on her clothes when he felt himself slip on the fine satin. Francis didn't needed to see him to know that Sir John was watching her from the rear, his wolf daemon, Anthea, sitting dutifully at his side.

Next to Lady Jane stood Sophia, as beautiful as the day they had first met, dressed in an azure blue dress, her humming bird nestled into the crook of her neck.

He had loved her, once. Still loved her, in fact, and the sight of her fading in the distance made his heart clench in his chest.

"Let us talk to the lieutenants, Francis." Meabh insisted, stretching her elegant white paws. She could feel his growing melancholy. Francis tried to ignore her, he wanted to keep watching until the pier would vanish in the fine mist and all that was left of Sophia was the memories he kept with him. But the arctic fox wouldn't give up. She head-butted his knees softly, moving him along the rail. "Dwelling won't help us, Francis, you need to focus on the journey ahead instead of looking back."

She was right, of course. "Fine. Then let's go."

⚓⚓⚓

You could cut the tension inside the captains cabin with a knife. Francis was brooding, his form hunched over the small desk as he studied the papers in front of him.

Meabh was lying comfortably in the little basket Jopson had placed inside Francis berth. Normally she wouldn't use it and opt to sleep in Francis arms instead but she had been distant for a few days now. He had asked her repeatedly why she refused to talk to him but to his own surprise, did not get any answers.

The captain shook his head and downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass before focussing on the papers again but his vision was swimming.

"Argh, to hell with it." He mumbled before calling for his steward. "Jopson!"

Seconds later footsteps approached the cabin and Jopson stepped through the door, dutifully. His dog daemon, Maud, a beautiful black Borzoi dog, hot on his heels.

"Fetch me another drink, Thomas." He demanded, holding out the empty glass. Jopson looked sceptical towards his captain, he worried his bottom lip between his teeth as if he was contemplating about telling his captain to stop drinking, but decided against it.

"Very well sir." While he gathered the glass in his hands and moved to fill it, Maud stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking back and forth between Francis and Meabh. "You need to stop drinking, it's making her sick." The dog murmured which earned her a shushing from Thomas.

"Please excuse her, captain, she always speaks before thinking. She means no disrespect." He quickly set a full glass of whiskey in front of the Irishman before motioning the dog to his side. "Is that all?"

Francis nodded, dismissing the pair. Maud's words echoed through his head. Was Meabh really this sick? It was only a few glasses and he could hardly remember a time when he wasn't drunk in the past few months, surely she was used to it by now?

Squinting his eyes, he tried to get a better look at his daemon. She did looked quiet thin and some of her hair had fallen off on her flank but he couldn't feel any pain through their bond. A cold shiver ran down his spine when he realized he was in fact, not feeling anything, it was like she had blocked him out of her mind. Francis hands shook when he carefully traded them through her soft white fur. The arctic fox made the tiniest sound of pleasure in her throat. "I'm sorry old girl."

He inhaled audibly. "But I feel like it's too late for us to turn back now. I- I'm not strong enough. I tried, really I did." And with that he grabbed the whiskey and downed it in a single long gulp.

⚓⚓⚓

"Mister Jopson, can I talk to you for a second?" Lieutenant Little asked, knocking against the steward's door. Jopson was on his feet in a matter of seconds, fastening his coat over his night clothes. "What is it, lieutenant? Is something wrong with the captain?!" He asked hastily.

Maud had jumped up from the blanket she had been lying on, her ears poking up.

Lieutenant Little looked exhausted in the lamplight, his usually pristine uniform was crinkled in places and his hair looked unkempt. "No, Lord no!" He quickly said, holding up his hands. Bryony was perched on his shoulder.

Sometimes Jopson wondered what she must feel like sitting on the lieutenants shoulder like that. He had once seen a man with a trained parrot in the streets of London. The parrot was no daemon but merely a tamed animal. The man allowed people to pet him or put them on their own shoulders for a moment. It had looked uncomfortable through. The parrot's long claws would catch onto hair or pieces of clothing and he could see that especially children had struggled to carry the bird.

Was Bryony heavy? How did her feathers feel when they brushed against the lieutenants throat?

A small coughing startled him from his thoughts. "Excuse me, lieutenant. I was- caught up in my own thoughts."

Little waved him off, his posture relaxed ever so slightly. "I come to tell you that doctor MacDonald has asked you to take the morning off. He said the captain is feeling well enough that he won't need to be constantly overseen by the two of you. You should get some rest."

Thomas could feel a heavy weight lifting from his chest that has previously been pressing down on him. If the doctor said the captain was feeling better they were finally making some progress.

He had spend the last two weeks constantly by his captains side, cleaning up sick and spilled drinks, dabbing away the sweat from his feverish forehead and feeding him watery soup, Maud pressed tightly against Meabh's side, liking affectionately between her ears. She was fed a mixture of water and cedarwood to help her sleep even when Francis was awake. Doctor MacDonald had been worried about the captain and visited every hour, even during the night. Sometimes he was only half dressed, Seonag poking out of his pocket. Her spikes causing the fabric to bulge funny.

They had both lost a lot of sleep during the process.

"Thank you, lieutenant, but I can manage. Please tell the doctor I would rather spend my morning by the captains side."

Before he could finish his sentence, Little was already shaking his head. "Please, Jopson, just this once, allow yourself some rest. You earned it. Terror would be nothing without you." Bryony made a surprised caw noise and fluffed her feathers up, both of them looked extremely embarrassed.

"I- I mean-"

"Thank you." Jopson quickly said. "I mean it."

They both stared at each other for a moment, Jopson could feel his heart beating in his throat. "… Would- would you like to come inside to talk, lieutenant?" He asked, feeling bold all of sudden.

Little blinked in surprise. Bryony cawed and hopped up and down on his shoulder. "I would like that very much."

⚓⚓⚓

The first time he had touched Hartnell's daemon was after one of their many Bible studies. The kestrel was still sitting on the table, dangerously close to his own pidgeon daemon, Mhairi, and fluffing her feathers.

"She-" He cleared his throat. "She is quite beautiful." He said honestly, watching the kestrel in awe. Hartnell stopped in his tracks and watched the two daemons sitting next to each other but not quite touching. "Thank you." The AB said in a voice so low it could have been mistaken for the wind sweeping through the ship.

"I hope these lessons bring the two of you some peace." Irving said honestly, holding his hand out for Mhairi to climb on. She refused, tilting her head from one side to the other.

"They are, I feel a great peacefulness whenever I am around you- I mean whenever I am reading the- the Bible!" Hartnell spoke quickly, his face going beet red. Irving just stared at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

"I am sorry." He finally said after a long pause, tears welling up in his eyes. "I am so, so sorry, mister Hartnell." The lieutenant sunk down in his chair pressing the backside of his hands against his eyes. He was so tired.

"What for, lieutenant? I don't understand?"

"I have misused your trust! You came to me in a moment of weakness and I wanted to help you, I thought the Lords words would help you with your pain, I thought if I only prayed hard enough the Lord would help both of us! But I just can't- I can't live with this feeling inside me any more, it feels like I'm being torn apart from inside!" His breathing was laboured, Mhairi tried to calm him down by flying up to his shoulder and nuzzling her beak into his neck. "Shhh, John, you need to calm down!"

And then there was another, featherlight touch against his face, where the kestrel sat on the other side of his shoulder. Both he and Hartnell took in a shaky breath, the younger man's eyes fluttered close for a short moment.

Touching another person's daemon was practically a taboo. The only people who would touch the other part of your soul were either family or partners and yet Hartnell looked pleased with the unfamiliar touch of Irving's shaking fingers in his daemons feathers, not humiliated or afraid. Was he really trusting him this much?

"It's alright, John, I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't wanted to be touched." The older man couldn't remember if he ever heard the kestrel speak before, he was kind of dumbstruck at the moment and so, instead of replying he carefully stroked the soft feathers on her underside, marveling at the feeling.

"We trust you, lieutenant. You won't hurt us. Please, if I can help you with the pain, I- I want to try." Hartnell tried, holding out his hands like Irving was a scared animal.

"I don't think you can help me with this, mister Hartnell." He said honestly.

By now Hartnell was right in front of him, filling his entire vision. "Are you sure?"

He ask, coming nearer and nearer. Irving couldn't help himself. A stronger man might have pushed the AB away, returned to his Bible studies and never spoken of what had just happened again. Irving was not a strong man. Or maybe he was for giving into the urge and allowing the younger man to press a light kiss to his lips.

They both moaned slightly into the kiss, Hartnell tipping forward and almost landing in the older man's lap. "Sorry- I'm so sorry, sir!" He apologized in horror but Irving stopped him with another kiss.

"No. Please. I've never felt this much clarity in my entire life. I- I'm happy."

Thomas smiled down at him. "Good. All I wanted was to make you happy."

Next to them, the pidgeon and kestrel were huddled together, so close their shapes seemed to become one.

#the terror #the terror amc #francis crozier #edward little #thomas jopson #john irving #thomas hartnell #my writing

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gauntie-o-dimm · 5 years

Text

Hosea Matthews X Reader | Before, After What Happened In Saint Denis | Chapter 1-8

Originally posted this on AO3. This first collection of chapters are standalone. These are spoiler free, but part 2 isn’t. Read that one at your own risk.

Part 2

Word count: 1800+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, mentioned pregnancy, daddy kink

Chapter 1 - Horsehoe Overlook

You found him upon a crate at the fire, vest buttons askew, burgundy bandana loosely around his neck.

You had been drawn towards him with the sudden urge to kiss him.

And so you sank next to him onto the ground, awfully close, resting your head against his leg. The soft sound of Javiers strumming made you close your eyes, feeling Hosea's fingers softly tangle in your hair, brushing against your scalp. For a few moments you sat like this before turning your eyes upwards to face him, with big begging doe eyes that you knew could make him melt. A rare smile tugged at his chapped lips, his tongue flicking across them. He knew what you wanted. 'Come here.' he whispered, patting his leg with his other hand. You obeyed, letting yourself sit down across his lap, your back towards the fire, your arms around his neck.

You pressed your forehead against his, a deep sigh leaving your lips. 'For how long will we be on the run?' ‘As long as we have each other, I think all will be alright.' 'But what if we-'

Hosea cut you off by pressing his mouth to yours - it was sweet and intimate and all the more desperate.

'Shhh... Don't think so much.' he whispered against your face, hot breath making your skin turn red. 'Just... Live in the moment, for now. Let me hold you.'

So you nodded, kissing him with a hunger that you weren't sure could ever be stilled.

Chapter 2 - Amidst The Chaos

'Do you love him?'

The question had struck you like a storm on a bright day, taking your breath away for a second. You looked from the game of dominoes up towards Tilly for a moment, pondering before you let your glance wander to Hosea, who was in a seemingly heated conversation with Dutch. The silver fox did not seem pleased with Van Der Lindes behaviour at all.

Your eyes glimmered as you smiled, the familiar feeling you had in your stomach fluttering as his gaze momentarily rested onto you, the rage in his features softening immediately.

He was old enough to be your father. Hell, you knew he was older than yours - even though said man had passed many years ago.

You held his gaze for a couple of seconds, and you shifted on the crate you were sitting on, fiddling with a piece you held between your fingers.

'Yes.' you finally breathed, 'I love him very, very much.'

'That's good.' Tilly answered, a genuine smile over her lips. 'You are lucky to have someone among this chaos that is unfolding around us.'

'I know.' you whispered, 'I know.'

Chapter 3 - Intimate

For a moment, you didn't feel anything. Stilled within movement, you awaited the brush of his fingers against your swollen clit.

And then, you exploded into a heart-shattering orgasm, clenching around him, pleasure flowing out of you. The only word you knew was his name, coming out like a lewd moan that would certainly be heard on the other side of camp. Not that anyone would be bothered. After all, it was nothing new.

Hosea smiled against your neck, teeth grazing against your skin. 'You beautiful, beautiful woman.'

You arched against him in orgasm, reaching behind you to tangle into his grey locks. He pulled you flush against him, the hard bulge in his pants twitching against your thigh. As you high died down, clitoris throbbing and wholly satisfied, you sighed.

'Give me a moment, Hosea...' you whispered, swallowing thickly at the sound of his ragged breathing in your ear.

'Of course, darling. Take all the time you need.'

Chapter 4 - Late Night Antics

The tip of your tongue licked across your bottom lip in concentration as you took a strong hold of the knife.

'Three, two, one, go!'

In a steady rhythm, you started ramming it in the gaps between your sprawled out fingers, cheered on by no one other than Sean McGuire.

In the back of your mind you knew that Hosea would disapprove, but he was asleep now, and you had consumed far too many alcohol to think straight.

'Seems like you're going to lose those fifty cents, (Y/n).' You opponent Micah smugly spoke, gazing at his pocket watch. Sean patted the shoulder that was holding the dagger, your grip nearly faltering. 'Come on, ye can't lose from that fucker now can ye?'

One more round and you had less than four seconds - completely focused on winning you fastened your pace. But within the blur of alcohol and yelling, the weapon slipped out of your hold, and even though you managed to grab it, it was miscalculated how it would land now - and you rammed rather strongly into your own index finger.

You yelped, dropping everything at an instant, holding your hand in agony. 'Holy shit!' you hissed, the others around you taken aback by the sudden turn of events: Even Uncle looked at you with a gaze that seemed awake.

'Holy fuck, yer bleeding (Y/n)!' Sean exclaimed, causing Micah to cackle. 'Oh come on, it's just a bit of blood! Now come on, pay up!'

'She won't be paying you any fucking cent, Bell.' A cold voice said behind you.

You didn't dare to look behind you.

Hosea moved to face you, his form shadowing over you as you shrank in your seat. '(Y/n)...' his voice was a mixture of disappointment and concern.

'I am sorry, Hosea...' you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. You knew he was worried - he always worried.

'Come to my tent.' he ordered, eyeing the rest of the gang-members around the table strictly. 'And the rest of you, go to bed. It's well past two.'

'Fucking old man.' Micah muttered, shaking his head. Both you and Hosea ignored him, and you went with him towards his tent. He opened the flap for you and beckoned to a chair. You sank down, shame making you feel even more tired than you already were. From his nightstand, Hosea took a bottle of pure alcohol and a rag.

He poured a royal amount onto the cloth and grabbed your wrist. You flinched even before he had touched the cut on your finger. 'You have to lie in the bed you've made.' Hosea scolded, shaking his head. 'I really am sorry, Hosea.' you breathed, gritting your teeth as he wiped across the small wound. 'I am sorry for not acting like a responsible adult.' 'Stop it, now. I am just glad that you haven't hit anything serious. I must've known better than to let you alone with that fucking prick like Micah Bell. I know he is a bad influence-' 'Hosea, shut up. Don't blame yourself.' He sighed, softly pressing a kiss against the back of your hand. You looked at him, admiring him silently. He locked eyes, kissing your skin again. The feel of his lips was hot.

A soft gasp left your throat as he suddenly took your finger in his mouth, making your cheeks flush bright red. 'They say saliva can stop bleeding.' he said, sucking slowly on the digit. You bit your lip, blinking as he pulled back.

'I think it really did work.' you mused, 'It doesn't sting anymore.'

'Good.' Hosea breathed, wrapping up the cut with a clean strip of fabric. 'But we must both go to bed now. I will escort you to your tent.'

When he noticed you didn't follow him outside, Hosea looked over his shoulder, grey hairs like silver shimmering in the soft candle light.

'Can't I sleep with you tonight?'

For a moment, he smiled at you before closing the flap of his tent, moving towards the bed. You slipped underneath the covers beside him, cuddling into his chest. Smiling, Hosea sighed in satisfaction, holding you close as he laid awake until he heard you sleep.

Chapter 5 - Gentleman

A heavy sigh was pushed from your lungs as his skilled tongue grazed against your thighs, inching ever closer...

'Hosea...' was all you could mutter, eyes rolled back into your head as he brushed against the sensitive button between your rosy folds, spreading them apart with his strong fingers. The stubble on his chin roughed against your heated skin.

'Hosea...' you felt him smile into you, his eyes glimmering with something you rarely saw - lust. You moaned as he sucked away at you, crooning as you moved your hips upward.

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. And fuck, he was a gentleman.

And so he ate the night away, indulging you into endless pleasure.

Chapter 6 - Aftercare

Tell me about Bessie, you had whispered that night, pressing your naked body a bit tighter against his. His arms were around you, fingers drawing circles on your skin. It was one of these lazy evenings filled with tooth-rotting sweet aftercare, tales and nothing else.

Hosea was taken aback, looking down at you surprised. You looked so in love with him at the moment that he leaned down to kiss you softly. Your hand went to his cheek, cupping it sweetly. Maybe you'd drop the subject altogether, Hosea pondered as he pulled back from the kiss.

'Well?' you urged on, smiling at him as he sighed deeply.

'I think you two would've liked each other.' was all he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

That was all that you wanted to hear about hear right now, not pressing him to tell more. A content sigh left your lips, your face burying in his neck as you awaited sleep to come.

Chapter 7 - Glowing

Upon arriving at Shady Belle, Karen spoke to you, her eyes shimmering.

'Hey, (Y/n)...' she began with a hint of mischief, 'If it's not too bold to ask, when was the last time you were bleeding down below?'

You squinted at the question in confusion, patting your horse on the neck.

'What even... Why do you need to know?'

She giggled, Mary-Beth soon joining in.

'Well... You've been glowing for a few days now.'

'Oh.' you whispered, giving a small shrug as you all dismounted your horses, hitching them at the camp. 'That could be.'

'Just tell us if you've been bleeding or not in a couple of weeks, al-right?' Karen spoke up.

'Sure.' you muttered, thinking nothing of it...

Even though it had been two months since your last flow...

Chapter 8 - Satisfaction

He rolled his hips forward, wrinkled fingers rubbing your skin.

'Daddy...' you breathed, your chest moving up and down rapidly, just like his thumb around your clitoris.

Hosea smiled, creases appearing at the corners of his eyes. He adored you as you crumbled underneath him-

-'Oh daddy, I am going to cum...' you moaned out, arching your back.

'Cum for daddy, sweet girl.' Hosea finally urged, pushing himself onto you once more as he spilled into your depths.

Completely satisfied and utterly tired, he coughed as he tried to gather himself, allowing you to flip him over.

'Does daddy want another round?' you said with a mischievous lustful smile. Hosea laughed a bit, the ripple from his throat concerning you immediately.

'(Y/n), you know I love you, but I don't have the stamina from a twenty-year old anymore.'

You smiled, snuggling into him after offering him a cigarette, which he gladly took.

'That's alright, my darling Hosea.' you whispered amidst exhaling smoke.

#hosea matthews #hosea matthews x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader

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holylulusworld · 5 years

Text

Ignored Love

Request: dean x reader 💗 She's 23 years, live with the boys and her and Dean are in love but one day during a case took her virginity and the next morning he acts as anything happened and stop talking with her, dean start sleeping every night with sluts (he’s heartbroken too but it’s dean so) and one day Sammy ask her out because she’s depressed and knows she’s pregnant to? (brother/sister relationship) Jealous dean, so much angst, crying, dean knee to ask forgiveness and dean possessive to

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: language, angst, loss of virginity, light smut (rather implied), pregnant reader, sad reader, arguments, fluff

Moving slow and even he holds you tight. His lips find yours once again. Dean is gentle and careful; he doesn’t want to hurt you during your first time.

Smiling against his lips you climax around him. Drowning into pleasure you close your eyes, feeling him inside of you is all you ever wanted.

When he fills you with his seed you feel complete. You feel loved. He looks at you like you’re a precious treasure at this moment, the moment you want to cherish forever.

----

Waking up in an empty bed you wonder. Dean isn’t here. You expected to wake up next to him after the last night. His clothes are gone, along with his bag.

Grabbing fresh clothes you pack your stuff. Panicked you want to knock at Sam’s room but then you see Dean and Sam talking in front of the Impala. Sighing relieved you smile at Dean but he ignores you. Simply continuing talking to Sam he doesn’t even say ‘hi’.

Shrugging you toss your bag into the trunk. Maybe he doesn't want to let Sam know right now? Maybe he wants to wait a bit longer to tell him you two are a thing?

“Ready to drive home?” Sam asks and you nod.

"I found your Zippo lighter," you say to Dean but he doesn't answer. He does not even look at you and that's when you realize, he regrets the last night...he regrets that he was your first.

Holding back the tears you try to process that Dean regrets you...

----

Two weeks later...

Dean still refuses to talk to you. After that night you tried to make him see you but he ignores your whole existence. You saw and heard him last night at the motel with another woman.

You were nothing but an easy lay. He took your virginity and it meant nothing to him. You crumble every day more. Sam knows. he saw the look on your face and knew it right away.

He was trying to talk to Dean too but the man you loved and adored so much gives you the silent treatment as if you did something wrong.

Maybe you did? Maybe you’re not good enough for him?

Another 6 weeks later...

You can hear him. He’s fucking another chick in his room, like almost every night. If it would be possible to break your heart, even more, it would ... but there’s nothing left to break, only a hole where your heart used to be.

Sam suggested sharing a room with you; he doesn’t want to leave you alone. He can see that you shut yourself out from the world every day more. The happy and lively girl is gone, replaced by a shadow of yourself.

Seeing you sobbing on the floor Sam holds you tight. Hating his brother he wants to storm into the room and beat the shit out of him but you need him right now.

“He’s an idiot. Everything will be alright. You’ll get over him and everything will be alright.”

“Nothing will be alright, Sam. He didn’t use protection...I’m pregnant and all alone,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Shhh ... I’m here. No matter what, I’m here, Y/N.” Sam tries to soothe you.

“I thought he loves me, but I mean nothing to him. That night meant nothing to him. I was just available. Why did he do this? He knew that I’m still...and he didn’t stop. Dean acted like I mean more to him than an easy lay...now I know better. I’m just a random slut for him...nothing more.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I thought...he always acted like he’s in love with you. Dean doesn’t know what he lost.”

“I got no clue what to do.”

Three months after that night...

You barely leave your room or even eat. Sam has to force you, to drag you out to at least spend a few minutes with him. He's worried beyond worried. At least you agreed to go to your ultrasound appointments.

But every time you see Dean you run to your room crying. There are days you do not say a single word. Sam never saw you so lost, so hopeless. Dean destroyed you, your personality.

There’s nothing left of the funny 23 years old girl who always stand her ground, even against his older brother. Now you can’t even bear to see Dean.

Looking at you sad form sitting in the library next to him Sam makes his decision. He needs to cheer you up. Make you see there’s more in life than Dean Winchester.

“Hey, do you want to go out with me?” Sam asks.

Looking up at him you don't know what to say. Honestly, you just want to crawl back into your bed. The morning sickness is still worse.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Listening to Sam asking you out Dean feels anger boiling up into his stomach. He set you free to make sure you’re safe and now Sam is asking you out? All those chicks didn’t make him forget the feeling of being with you.

"I can't believe you, Sam! How dare you asking her out!" Dean yells.

"What? You are ignoring her for three months. Have you ever looked at her? She's a shadow of herself. You not even talk to her. She's crying for three months now! Hiding in her room only to avoid hearing you banging another slut!" Sam yells even louder.

“She is mine! No one has a date with her!”

“Really? That’s the reason you fuck every slut coming your way?”

“Stay away from her!” Dean warns.

“Like you? Not even caring if she’s still alive. Or if the baby is alright?” Sam talks back.

“What baby? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dean yells even louder and you flinch.

Making yourself smaller you start sobbing. The tears roll down your cheeks and you don't bother wiping them away. Starting to tremble you look at a beyond angry Sam.

"The baby you made with her! You were so reckless to not use protection! You took her virginity and then you threw her away like she's a piece of junk. For three months you didn't even look at her. Did you even see how much you hurt her with your behavior? Fucking other sluts while she's pregnant with your baby!"

“I didn’t know.” Dean stammers now.

“As you never talked to her since that night. She never leaves her room, barely eats. Y/N feels like one of your cheap sluts!”

“She’s pregnant? With my baby?”

“If you would’ve looked at her during the last months you would’ve seen that her body started to change.”

“Y/N will have my baby?”

“Forget it! Stay away from her!”

“She’s mine! Not yours!”

“That’s the reason you fucked another slut almost every night?” Sam retorts.

“I wanted her to be safe…I’m like poison…I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Mission failed. The only one hurting her for the last three months is you! She ain’t herself anymore. Look at her…” Sam says looking in your direction but your chair is empty.

“Y/N is pregnant with my baby…” Dean whispers.

----

A few moments after Dean started yelling at Sam you silently left the library. Sobbing you lie onto your bed. Curled into a ball you just lie there, trembling. Your eyes are puffy and red again. You can't count the hours you spend crying since that night.

You should’ve never let him touch you. Regretting your decision you hate yourself for ruining your friendship with Dean. Now the brothers are fighting, because of you.

----

“Shit, she left. Need to talk to her,” Sam mutters.

“Let me, Sammy. Please let me try.”

“To hurt her even more? She’s at the bottom Dean. Y/N barely lives these days. She would’ve stopped eating completely but she still tries to do what’s best for the baby.”

“Please let me talk to her.”

“I swear if you hurt her even more…”

Nodding Dean walks toward your room. Silently entering it he sees you crying on the bed. He kept his distance. Barely looked at you. Right now he sees what he's done to you. Sam is right, you're not yourself anymore.

“Y/N?” He tries.

“Sam didn’t do anything wrong. He only wanted to cheer me up. He did nothing wrong.” You sob.

“I know…I’m sorry…I didn’t want to yell at you.”

“You can go now. I won’t go out with Sam, don’t worry. I know I’m not good enough for you or Sammy,” you whisper.

“What do you mean with not good enough?” Dean asks kneeling in front of your bed to look at you.

“That’s the reason you never talked to me again. I’m just not good enough. I understand. I’m not pretty or sexy…I’m not what a man wants.”

“Y/N?”

“It’s okay, Dean. I can’t compare with all those pretty girls. I’m not like them…I wish I never had sex with you then we could still be friends.”

“Baby, you are beautiful. Those girls can’t compare with you. I kept my distance as I was afraid that you get hurt. I’m not good for you. Now I see the only one hurting you was me. I’m so sorry, please look at me.”

“Don’t pity me only as I’m pregnant. You don’t need to worry. I can raise it alone.”

“Y/N, please look at me,” Dean sobs now.

Still refusing to look at him you wipe away fresh tears. You don’t want his pity.

"You can go. No need to miss an opportunity to find a new girl," you whisper.

"Please, I only want you. No one can fill the emptiness since that night. I need you. I want you. Can you forgive me? Please."

“You don’t want me, you never wanted me. I was just available.”

Turning away from Dean you start crying again. Shocked about what you just said Dean lies down behind you. Holding you tight he kisses your neck softly.

“I only want you. Please believe me.”

“You ignored me for three months. You ignored my feelings, my love for you and now I shall believe you want me?”

“Please believe me. I ignored my own feelings for you to keep you safe. Please, I love you, Y/N. That night meant so much to me.”

“No, you ignored me the whole time. I mean nothing to you, just like my daughter.”

“Please, I love you. I will never ignore you again. Let me show you I can be the man you want.”

“I can try,” you whisper turning around.

Looking at your sad face Dean wipes away the tears. Kissing your lips softly he closes his eyes, moaning against your lips.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too…but…”

“No buts…we love each other, that’s all that counts. I will do all you want me to do from now on.”

“First you should apologize to Sam, he was there for me, the whole three months.”

“Will do so…but now I want to hold you tight…”

“I’d like that…”

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22 , @curly-haired-disaster-deactivat, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom , @thewinchesterco , @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana15, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @anushay1998

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-thewinchesters, @love-my-not-natural-babies, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @mirandaaustin93, @hawaiianohana15, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @x2closebut2farx, @thefaithfulwriter

#SPN #spn fanfic #spn tag #dean winchester #dean x reader #Sam Winchester #angst #implied smut #light smut #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester one shot #request fill #unplanned pregnancy #pregnant reader #cheating

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Extra Credit: Part 8 (Shalaska) - Rosie

A/N: Not going to lie, getting back into the Extra Credit swing of things was hard, especially because I wasn’t ready to write such a climactic chapter that I’ve imagined in my head for honestly over a YEAR. I don’t want to dwell on how long it’s been since I’ve updated this fic, but thank you x a million for sticking around and staying interested. I started Playing Cupid during the break and adore it (read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 here! I like it more than Extra Credit! And that says a lot!), so when I’m not writing this, I’m writing that. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it has… like, every emotion. Also this was meant to be for @purecamp’s birthday! I’m late but her special day was the biggest motivator for me to finally get back into this so thank you very much for helping me get my ass into gear and turn this out. Please send love notes here or at @aqrosie xx

Summary: University Professor Sharon Needles hooks up with a slamming hot blonde at a bar who may or may not be one of her students.

Chapter Summary: Tears! Drama! Thanksgiving! A healthy 6.3k words.

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six and Seven

I GOT THE JOB, Courtney wrote.

Alaska froze, completely forgetting about the makeup tutorial she was watching on her phone as Courtney’s message lingered at the top of her screen, only to be replaced with more capitals.

I GOT THE JOB I GOT THE JOB I GOT THE FUCKING JOB SLFHKDSLHV I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS, Courtney wrote again.

Sitting up, she rapidly opened her messages.

I’M SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU I’M FUCKING CRYING OH MY GOD, Alaska wrote back, completely straight faced.

This was monumental.

Courtney, her best-friend, whom she loved to pieces, who worked harder than anyone she knew, who was constantly knocking on doors, organising internships for herself and maintaining her GPA and part-time waitressing gig, had just gotten the entry level marketing position no doubt a hundred other applicants also jumped at.

Of course Alaska was happy for her, of course.

She just… had this sudden sick feeling in her stomach, like all her guts were twisting and pulling her to the ground from the inside.

But she was fine. Really.

“Ooh,” Sharon commented from the kitchen, completely pulling out of her thoughts. “This smells so good.”

Alaska murmured in agreement from her spot on the couch, watching as Sharon pottered around, cooking their roasted cauliflower enchiladas while sipping on a glass of wine. She lifted herself up before joining her girlfriend at the stove.

“Aw,” Sharon smiled as Alaska’s arms wrapped around her from behind. “Come to help?”

“Yeah,” Alaska said quietly into Sharon’s soft sweater, wanting a cuddle more than anything.

As Sharon stirred with her left hand, she placed her right on top of one of Alaska’s arms wrapped around her waist, trying to stroke her before giggling.

“I can’t stir and pat you, it’s like that rub your tummy and pat your head thing.”

Alaska frowned. “What?”

“You know that thing,” Sharon attempted. “You can’t do both at the same time. Like, it’s hard. I’ll show you later.”

“Okay,” Alaska snorted, pulling back from Sharon, only to stay and play with the soft fabric of her sweater, like a kitten wanting attention.

“Can you grab me the salt and pepper, bub?” Sharon asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

She knew Alaska would tell her whatever was bothering her when she was ready, but when not even a warm dinner, glass of wine and two episodes of The Golden Girls while wrapped in Sharon’s arms on the couch didn’t return her back to normal, she couldn’t help but probe.

When Alaska exited the ensuite that night after her shower and dedicated skincare routine, she snuggled up against Sharon’s side, already back to anxiously picking at her nails.

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” Sharon asked, her book in one hand as she softly scratched Alaska’s head, right at that spot near the nape of her neck which always relaxed her.

“Mm… Corm job…” Alaska mumbled, her voice muffled.

“Mh?” Sharon encouraged, before Alaska couldn’t help but sigh.

“Courtney got a job,” she finally said. “This graduate marketing thing.”

Albeit slowly, things started to make sense. “That’s so good! Where at?”

“Some health food place, not her dream job but it’s something.”

“Yeah, exactly…” Sharon agreed. Much softer now, she gently cracked Alaska open. “Talk to me, Lasky.”

It was like a time lapse of a river breaking its banks. Sharon could only watch as tears instantly welled in Alaska’s eyes before a sob bubbled out of her, her features scrunching up as all her insecurities and worries overwhelmed her before finally spilling over.

“Oh no baby don’t cry,” Sharon whispered urgently, grabbing a tissue on her bedside table and sliding her reading glasses off.

Alaska dabbed at her eyes, instantly soaking the tissue with her tears as she blubbered.

“It’s just… all just… hitting me now…” she hiccupped, “how everything is changing and I’m not going to be a student forever and I need to get a job and everyone is getting jobs and I haven’t even started applying because I’m so fucking scared of everything and my resume is shit because I didn’t do any internships and and and—“

“Breathe,” Sharon told her, squeezing her hand before grabbing her more tissues and retiring her book to her nightstand. She needed to go into damage control.

Alaska breathed in deeply before continuing, still at her same hurried pace but with slightly less tears. “I don’t know what I want to do with my life, but at the same time I know this is the happiest I’ve ever been, with you, with us. But graduation is only a couple of months away and I’m expected to leave Pittsburgh and get a job and I don’t know what that means… for us, and I’ve been so good at ignoring all of this until it comes but when things happen like Courtney getting a job… it just hits me all over again.”

A fresh wave of tears streamed down Alaska’s cheeks, and all Sharon could do was pull her onto her lap, into her arms and rock her like a child.

“Shhh,” Sharon whispered, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

She gently rocked Alaska until her tears subsided, not caring how long it took or how damp her pyjama top was becoming.

Alaska’s tone dropped. “Also Thanksgiving is soon and my mom is going to be so annoying about this all.”

Sharon laughed.

“Aw, love,” she murmured, brushing her cheek against Alaska’s. “I promise you everything will work itself out.”

Alaska couldn’t help but pout, her bottom lip quivering.

“No,” Sharon said firmly. “Look at me. Everything you’re feeling is perfectly normal. You’re going to apply to everything and anything, and you’re going to put yourself out there. You won’t be alone, I’ll help you. Okay?”

Alaska nodded, like Sharon was her life couch giving her a game plan.

“As for us,” Sharon continued, before exhaling. She had been thinking about this herself a lot recently. They never felt their age gap until moments like this, when the stages of their lives didn’t quite line up as neatly as they would have liked.

“We’ll work it out. We can’t plan what’s going to happen, where we might end up. But please know I never want you to base your decisions around me, or where I’m at in life. Don’t say no to something if it’s in another city. We’ll make it work. We’ll do long distance. I’ll fly you out—“

Alaska giggled. “You sound like a rapper, ‘I’ll fly you out.’”

“I will,” Sharon laughed. “And I’ll come see you.”

Alaska nodded, fiddling with the ends of her hair as she let her girlfriend’s words sink in. Sharon wiped the moisture from her cheek, and Alaska leaned into her warm touch.

“I know a lot of things are changing,” Sharon said softly, “but we’re not changing, and if we do, it’s only going to be for the better.”

Alaska sighed, the weight on her shoulders lessening and the knot in her stomach loosening. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Sharon smiled, pecking her on the lips.

They reclined back down to their previous position, Alaska curled up against Sharon’s side, who continued to stroke her hair.

“You never showed me that tummy rubbing thing…” Alaska said quietly.

“Oh, it’s this,” Sharon sat up, moving to see herself in their floor length mirror opposite their bed as she tried to demonstrate. She rubbed her head with one hand while she patted her stomach with the other. “Ugh, this fucks with my head, every time I think I’m doing it right I realise I’m patting my head in a circle, like now. Alaska?”

With her hand over her mouth, Alaska held back laughter until she couldn’t anymore.

“I knew what it was,” Alaska wheezed, “I just wanted to see you do it.”

“Oh my god,” Sharon whined, rolling to bury her blushing face into Alaska’s neck.

That night, Sharon fell asleep first. Wrapped in the older woman’s arms, Alaska focused on her deep, even breathing and willed herself to do the same, all the while ignoring the knot in her stomach which began to tighten all over again.

“Aw, she loves you Sharon!”

Standing in the middle of the crowded living room, amongst her boisterous uncles, already tipsy aunts, eccentric cousins and their overly energetic children was Sharon, cradling the newest edition to their growing extended family to her chest.

“She’s gorgeous,” Sharon beamed, admiring the chubby baby in her arms, who matched her gaze with big blue eyes filled with wonder at this stranger holding her. “How old is Farrah again? Five months?”

“Four,” her sister Max replied, smiling at her baby daughter.

Sharon couldn’t help but moan, resting tiny Farrah on her chest and inhaling her indescribable baby scent as Farrah’s stubby legs kicked with excitement.

Sharon was happy. So happy. She couldn’t picture a Thanksgiving in her adult life she had enjoyed as much as this.

When she had arrived at her parent’s place, not even her suitcase with its broken wheel, which forced her to lump it up their concrete driveway, or her delayed flight, or the bitterly cold weather could dampen her mood.

When her mother Michelle had excitedly opened the front door and welcomed her inside, it was like the sun itself had entered their home.

“You look good,” Michelle had said as Sharon had slipped off her coat, taking her daughter’s cold cheeks in both her hands, as if she couldn’t quite believe the extra light in Sharon’s eyes. “You’re practically glowing.”

“Oh, you know,” Sharon had waved her off, smiling ear to ear. “I’m just ready for a little holiday.”

Michelle knew her daughter, and something had shifted inside of Sharon. She wasn’t depressed, but over the years Michelle felt like her light had dulled, like the bulb was covered in a thin layer of dust. It wasn’t visible, but Michelle could feel it. Now, Sharon radiated happiness from every pore.

Carrying a tray of snacks into the living room, she spotted Sharon bobbing little Farrah, catching the moment she calmed the baby down by kissing the top of her head.

“Oh, no no, go upstairs and change, quick smart.”

Alaska scoffed.

“But I bought this top specifically for Thanksgiving,” she pointed to her chest, where her white shirt read WHY BE RACIST, SEXIST, HOMOPHOBIC OR TRANSPHOBIC WHEN YOU COULD JUST BE QUIET?

“And I bought you that gorgeous emerald Sherri Hill dress lying on your bed for Thanksgiving as well,” her mother Merle replied, raising one of her eyebrows in a way Alaska always tried to do herself but couldn’t.

“Change.”

Forcing herself to unclench her jaw, Alaska retreated back to her room, her feet tempted to stomp up their wooden staircase and scuff their perfect polished floors because she knew it made her mother livid.

Alaska didn’t want to be a brat, but being around her mom made her defensive hackles go up. Maybe it was the end of the year, or the stress of hosting Thanksgiving, or the fact that every single time they saw each other, Alaska felt like they were actors in a scene just going through the motions of how a mother and daughter should act.

Naively, when Alaska had returned home the day before, she hoped her mother had… changed a little bit. Her father Andrew had answered the door, throwing his comforting arms around her before hauling her “bloody heavy suitcase Alaska jeez it’s only two days” up to her room.

She had walked through their grand home, which was decorated Thanksgiving style, and had found her mother in the dining room, rearranging their dried leaf centrepieces to a Merle Ginsberg-Thunder level of opulence.

“Mom,” Alaska had called, her footsteps not enough to pull her mother from her focused task.

“Lala!” Merle had cried, using the nickname Alaska had given herself when she was little and thought she was pronouncing her name right.

Alaska had hugged her mom, taking in her signature Chanel no. 5, the pearl necklace that always adorned her neck and the orange dress she wore, which hung off her tall, slender frame.

For a moment there, Alaska believed things this year might be a little different.

But then the hug finished, and Merle went back to her centrepiece before ordering Alaska to help her Dad carry down the special glass wear from the attic, leaving her own daughter to feel like another one of her seasonal props. It didn’t help that Alaska had no way to escape, and no valid answer to, her mother’s relentless questions as she helped decorate: What jobs have you applied for? What do you mean none? And internships? None at all? What do you think is going to happen? What’s gotten into you, Alaska? No, don’t put that there, that’s all wrong.

Alaska knew the reason for their unspoken awkwardness, as all it circled back to when she was 19, drunk and feeling lucky, coming out in the middle of their kitchen to who she assumed were accepting parents, before her mother’s explosive reaction had made her backtrack, walking right into Merle’s ‘I’m sure it’s just a phase, Alaska,’ trap.

There was so much Alaska wanted to say to her, but the words never left her mouth, instead building up as resentment inside of her. She glared at the emerald dress in question, another reminder of how poorly Merle knew her own daughter, or how determined she was to make her something she wasn’t.

It was a pretty dress… if you were 14, not 22. It was a short halter neck style number, with a bodice covered in sequins and an organza skirt that flared out. Begrudgingly, Alaska slipped it on, before looking in the mirror and feeling like a complete fucking idiot. The strap around her neck felt suffocating, the fabric felt itchy, and the entire thing was slightly too small, another symbol of how she had grown out of the mould Merle had made for her. She wanted to rip the bloody thing off.

Instead, she pulled it over her head, left it in a passive-aggressive pile on the floor and changed into a backup option she bought along, a seasonally appropriate burgundy dress.

Feeling more like herself, Alaska left to join the guests she heard arriving downstairs, ignoring the lump in her throat and the prickle in her eyes.

“And what colour is this?” Sharon said, pointing to her own dress.

“Black!” Brianna replied excitedly, hanging onto Aunty Sharon’s every word.

“Good girl, Cracker, and this?” Sharon pointed to the onesie Farrah was wearing, who was snoozing against her chest where they both laid on the couch.

“Pink!” Brianna smiled. “My favourite colour.”

Alaska’s too, Sharon thought.

“Correct! And what colour is Blair wearing?” Sharon pointed to her 18-month old niece sat on the play mat, completely entertained by the plastic block in her hand.

“Yellow!” Brianna shouted, knowing she was right.

“Yes! Can you show me your paintings?” Sharon asked, watching Brianna wobble over to the pile of artwork all of Sharon’s toddler aged nieces and nephews had made together in the designated kid’s corner.

Sharon slipped out her phone, opening Snapchat and capturing a picture of Farrah asleep on her chest, before writing IM SO CLUCKY!! over the top and sending it to the only contact she had.

They had just finished their early Thanksgiving dinner, and while they waited to digest before dessert was served, Sharon had slipped away from the adults for some better company.

“Look!” Brianna held up her art. “This is mommy and grandma.”

Brianna’s mother, Max, was a tall stick figure with a huge smile on her face. Her grandma, Michelle, was the shortest of them all, Brianna’s artistic decision to make a green blob her body making Sharon crack up.

“And this is you,” Brianna said, pointing to the final woman. Sharon couldn’t stop smiling at the medium height stick figure on the side, the blob of yellow on her head being her hair.

“Aw, it’s so gorgeous Bri!” Sharon beamed. “We need to put that on the fridge.”

“And this is Farrah,” Brianna said, pointing to a small blob of pink floating near Max — that Sharon originally thought was a mistake — which represented her baby sister.

Sharon chucked loudly, causing Farrah to wake up. She cried once, before her chubby fist grabbed at the material of Sharon’s dress.

“Here, let me take Farrah off you,” Max said, walking over to their little gathering on the couch.

“Aw it’s okay, I love holding her,” Sharon smiled, looking down and seeing Farrah press her little face into Sharon.

“Yes, but right now she thinks you’re going to breastfeed her.”

“Oh,” Sharon replied, sitting up and passing the grabby baby back to its mother.

“You’re a complete natural though,” Max smiled. “I can’t wait until you have a little one.”

In the past when people would mention children to Sharon, she would react awkwardly, a bunch of reasons making her believe the whole concept of motherhood was not destined for her.

But now, for once, she agreed.

“Me too,” she said softly.

She hauled herself up from the couch before making her way into the kitchen to scope out a PBR from the fridge.

When she shut the door, Michelle had appeared behind her.

“Those pies in there look yum,” Sharon said, about to ask when they could be dished out before her mom cut her off, a giant smile on her face.

“You’re in love,” Michelle said in a hushed tone.

Sharon couldn’t deny it even if she tried. Her face broke into a smile as her mom took her hands in hers.

“You’d love her, mom,” Sharon whispered. “She’s so funny, she’s got our type of humour, because she’s so smart, and gorgeous, god, she’s so gorgeous.”

“Baby,” Michelle squealed quietly, pulling her daughter in for a hug. “This is so huge. Is it… you know, serious?”

Sharon pulled back, nodding. “I told her I loved her.”

Michelle gasped, making them both giggle.

“And she said it back,” Sharon smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter, the love in her heart making her mind spin.

“Oh, you don’t know how happy I am to see you like this, Sharon,” Michelle said, her eyes misty.

They hugged, Sharon burying her face into her mom’s neck as her loving arms wrapped around her, all the while imagining Alaska in this very kitchen, laughing and bonding with Michelle.

“Grandma.”

They both jumped slightly, looking down to see Brianna tugging on Michelle’s dress.

“Can I have some pie? Please.”

“So then I said…”

Alaska rolled her eyes as her mother repeated a story from her glory pageant days to the whole family, one she knew word for word. Alaska picked at her food, lip-syncing perfectly with her mother.

“…I was Miss Erie Pennsylvania 1992, and don’t you forget it.”

Their table roared with laughter while Alaska shoved a piece of potato salad into her mouth.

Expectedly, this dinner had been hard work.

It started when her mother had pressured her in front of everyone to put turkey on her plate, forcing Alaska to announce yet again she was a vegetarian, fully knowing it’d spark another debate.

“I just don’t understand vegetarians,” her mother had sighed, “the animals are already dead when they get to the supermarket. You can’t do anything to save them.”

Alaska wanted to crawl into a hole.

In the middle of dinner, when her Aunty Bebe had leaned across the table and genuinely asked Alaska how she was going at university, and what her plans were for afterwards, Merle had completely cut her daughter off.

“She’s thinking of moving back home, who knows, maybe you could do the marketing for Crowns and Gowns,” Merle had interjected, referencing her pageantry training business.

“What? No,” Alaska had snapped back, the thought alone infuriating her.

While Alaska loved makeup and clothes and talented women, her mother’s overwhelming involvement in pageants her entire life had made her detest them. They were so old-fashioned and conservative and stuffy.

And so was Merle.

Alaska wouldn’t still be thinking about this moment if her mother hadn’t leaned into her Aunty Nina seated next to her and whispered, “she doesn’t know whatshe wants.”

Alaska wanted to scream.

I want Sharon, she had thought blinking back the moisture in her eyes as she stared at her food.

“And what about your love life,” Aunty Bebe had said in her usual vivacious manner, attempting to brighten her niece’s deflated mood. “Breaking any boy’s hearts?”

Alaska’s eyes darted to Merle’s, which widened in a comical way. However, with her mouth full of turkey, Alaska jumped in before she could utter another word.

“Oh, no boys on the agenda,” Alaska smiled at her Aunt. “But who knows.”

“Lovely,” Bebe replied, taking a sip of her wine and missing the smirk on Alaska’s lips, and Merle’s anxious gaze.

Towards the end of the dinner, when Alaska was her most bored and alone as she was wedged between her younger cousins who were discussing PewDiePie, whatever that was, and her older aunts and uncles, her phone had lit up in her lap.

snoodles sent you a snap!

Alaska had excused herself to the bathroom, momentarily putting her angst on hold while she tapped open Sharon’s picture. She whined when she saw the chubby little baby sleeping on a very happy Sharon’s chest, and her heart filled with joy reading how clucky she felt.

She took a screenshot, replied with what felt like millions of love hearts and crying emojis, before going back to staring at the picture again. She stared at it until she calmed down, reminding herself that she wasn’t a teenager anymore, that her life was so much more than what her mother wanted for her, and that there was so much ahead of her.

“Well, I call that a success,” Merle said, walking into the kitchen after waving off the last of their guests.

With her back to her, Alaska rolled her eyes from her spot at the sink where she was rinsing dishes. She could describe their Thanksgiving as a lot of things, but a success wasn’t one of them.

Merle took a seat at their marble granite breakfast bar, pouring herself another glass of wine.

“Of course, it would have been even better if you hadn’t been in such a mood all day, Alaska.”

Heat prickled up Alaska’s spine, reaching her brain before spiking through all her nerves. She scrubbed the plate in her hand, the old bristles of the brush leaving tiny scratches in its wake, just like her mother.

“I mean, what’s gotten into you? I feel like every time I see you you’re on the defence, and—“

Alaska couldn’t take it anymore.

She threw the plate into the sink, not meaning to shatter it, but God, it did, and it felt fucking good.

“Alaska—”

“No!” she whipped around, fury in her eyes as words after words poured out of her. “You think I’m in a mood? You wanna know what’s gotten into me? You. You! It’s like you’re suffocating me. And I know why you’re like this but you never bring it up which is what makes it worse—“

Alaska’s body took over. She choked up, tears welling in her eyes as her throat tightened. But she needed to finish, looking at her mother’s shocked expression across the island bench top.

“I’ve put up with so much shit from you ever since… ever since I… came out,” Alaska said, a pang of hurt in her heart as her mother rolled her eyes. “No! Listen to me. Or don’t. I don’t fucking care anymore, because it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know how you feel, but I know when I came out, you weren’t happy, and I freaked out and told you I might be bi, or that I wasn’t sure, because I knew that’s what you wanted. Well now I’ve found someone.”

She caught the moment Merle’s lips parted in shock, the moment her breath hitched.

With wet cheeks and red eyes and a frame shaking with emotion, Alaska continued, feeling both terrified yet electric.

“I’ve found someone and she makes me so happy, the happiest I’ve ever been. And if you don’t want that for me, that’s fine. But that’s what I want. I want her, and I’ve never been more sure of something in my life.”

She placed her hands on her bench, the coldness of the marble shocking her hot skin as she leaned towards her mother, repeating the words Merle had said to her aunt. “That’s what I want.”

She didn’t catch Merle’s reaction, because as her mother sat in shock for mere moments, Alaska was already gone, leaving the kitchen before running up the stairs to her room and closing the door. She didn’t need to slam it, she wasn’t throwing a tantrum. But she needed to be alone.

In the dark, she made it to her bed, breaking down as a sob racked through her whole body. She clutched her pillow to her chest, pressing her face to it and not caring about her makeup as she cried.

It felt liberating to flush everything out. But above all, everything just felt real. It made Sharon feel real. It made their relationship even more real. And it made her relationship with her mother, which she had ignored, avoided and agonised over, feel real.

Without knowing how much time had passed, Alaska eventually felt around for her phone, the brightness of her lock screen blinding her as she pried off her phone case. Out fell her favourite polaroid.

She held it in her hand, which still shook slightly. Staring at it again, she couldn’t help but smile at her and Sharon’s laughing faces, at how happy and carefree they were.

Dabbing her eyes, she tapped the contact at the top of her messages.

“That’s her,” Sharon squealed quietly, getting up from the couch where her and Michelle sat after dinner.

“Oooh,” Michelle whispered back, her eyelids heavy as she looked about three seconds away from falling asleep after a hectic day.

Sharon escaped to the spare bedroom of her mother’s new house which was hers for the holiday. She shut the door behind her before answering the phone and laying down on her sheets.

“Hey baby,” Sharon smiled. “Happy Thanksgiving! Even though we called each other this morning. How was your day?”

“Hey,” Alaska croaked, her voice muffled, before Sharon heard a sniff that made her heart sink.

“Are you okay?” She said seriously, and the concern in her voice made Alaska well up again. She just wanted to be in Sharon’s arms.

“Yeah,” Alaska said, shamelessly letting a sob slip out.

“No!” Sharon worried, immediately standing up, as if she was about to run out of the house and defend on girlfriend on foot. “What happened? Talk to me, it’s okay, where are you? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alaska breathed in. “I’m fine, I’m in my room. I just… had a fight with mom. Well not a fight, I don’t know, I just… came out all over again, and I told her I found someone and how happy I am, and that I don’t care what she thinks, and then I went upstairs.”

Sharon was silent, her eyes wide at what she was hearing.

“And like,” Alaska continued, her voice becoming clearer as she settled down. “I’m not really crying out of sadness, I don’t know, it’s more like, just a lot of emotions, and relief maybe, because I just didn’t think I was about to do that, and then I went and did that, and I’m like, kind of shocked and surprised by myself. Does that make sense?”

“Oh, Alaska,” Sharon’s voice was thick with admiration as her moisture prickled in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you! I’m so proud of you. Fuck me, no wonder you’re crying. Now I’m crying.”

Alaska laughed, Sharon’s voice filling her heart with joy. She had made her girlfriend proud.

“What you did right now was huge,” Sharon told her. “When did you try last time? 19? You’ve made 19-year-old Lasky so proud. I always knew you were brave, Alaska, but now you know, and it, ugh, I don’t even have the words.”

Sharon was silent, and Alaska sensed she was about to keep going.

“I wish I could have come out when I was younger…” Sharon said softly, sitting back down on her bed. “But I just… couldn’t. It was so hard. It was a different time. And I know things are still just as shit at times now, but you’re incredible, baby. I’m so proud of you. I love you. I love you so much, Alaska.”

Alaska wanted to reply, but Sharon’s words had left her speechless, so she nodded fiercely.

“Baby?” Sharon attempted.

“I’m nodding,” Alaska laughed. “And crying again. I love you, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

They fell silent, hearing the sounds of each other breathing, finding comfort in just knowing someone was there.

“I wish I could be with you right now,” Sharon whispered.

“Me too,” Alaska whispered back. “Well, I’d rather come to you. Oh! That baby on your snap was so cute. Please tell me more about said babies.”

“Before I do, because there were a lot of babies,” Sharon laughed, “are you feeling okay now?”

“Yeah,” Alaska said honestly. “I feel a lot better. I feel calm. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m leaving after lunch. So I think I’m just going to shower and pass out tonight.”

“Call me tomorrow if you need anything, okay?” Sharon said, making Alaska promise before recounting her day. “Right, so the little baby is Farrah, she’s my sister’s new baby, whom I will be of course stealing. Oh my god it was so cute she was like pressing her face into my boob and I didn’t realise it’s because she was hungry. Max already has an older girl called Brianna, she’s almost 3 and is very good with her colours right now and has the cutest little brown curls…”

Alaska nodded along, the love in Sharon’s voice for her family the perfect distraction.

The next morning was difficult to describe, mostly because Alaska couldn’t believe it was happening. To the surprise of everyone, it didn’t feel like the aftermath of a war, or even a storm.

It was more like passing of heavy, much needed, rain.

Dry dead grass hadn’t turned a vivid lush green overnight. Birds weren’t chirping in the trees.

But the air felt different — fresh, and everything felt clean, washed away with the hope of something new about to grow.

When she descended the stairs, the smell of coffee and toast luring her out of her room, she found her Dad reading the paper as always, and Merle in her pyjamas squeezing oranges for fresh juice.

Alaska never worried about her easy-going father. Andrew’s much gentler demeanour meant he always played Switzerland in her arguments with her mother, bringing to the table a rational, level-headedness.

But with her mother, some of the tension that had lingered for the previous few years, that Alaska never got used to, that Alaska never wanted to get used to, had somewhat melted away.

Alaska knew her mother, and she knew words weren’t her strongest suit. But Alaska noticed her actions. She noticed how she made Alaska’s coffee absolutely perfectly, even after not making her one for months due to her living away. She noticed how she let their dog Poundcake jump onto the furniture to be with Alaska, even though Merle winced whenever Cake’s little claws pricked at the upholstery.

Above all, when it was time to leave just after lunch, she helped haul Alaska’s giant suitcase down the stairs. When she lost her grip slightly, its hard corner scuffing their perfectly polished floors, Alaska’s heart had stopped, already imagining her mother’s reaction.

But Merle couldn’t care less.

“It’s just one scuff, Alaska,” she said genuinely. “It’ll be okay.”

When it was time to say goodbye, her father already in the driver’s seat ready for the almost two hour road trip back to campus, Alaska turned to give her mom a hug.

“Have a safe drive back,” Merle had said into her hair. “Not long to go now until graduation, how exciting!”

Alaska had smiled and nodded, crouching down to kiss Poundcake goodbye before moving to hop in the car. But her mother reached out and caught her arm, immediately loosening her grip slightly after seeing Alaska’s shocked expression.

“I want you to be happy.”

Alaska could have cried. She nearly did. Her mother’s voice was so even, her words so genuine.

“Thank you,” Alaska whispered, but Merle nodded vigorously, as if Alaska had shouted it from the rooftops.

Merle blinked quickly, so quickly Alaska didn’t see the moisture bubble around her lash line. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alaska rushed out, realising just how desperately she needed to hear it from her mother, and just how badly she had been wanting to say it back.

She felt both little and older at the same time, like she was a child again, viewing their relationship as perfect, but also like a woman, as if her mother was speaking to her as an adult, an equal.

She’d never know it, but her mother felt the same. As she loosened her grip and let Alaska’s sleeve slip through her fingertips, it didn’t feel like she was waving her baby daughter off again into the world, but instead finally meeting the person she had grown into.

When Thanksgiving was over, and the students returned to their dorms, Alaska returned to Sharon’s apartment. She hit ‘submit’ on an internship application, watching her resume and the cover letter Sharon had helped her write get sucked into the internet. The application process was quick, so quick that Alaska couldn’t believe she had procrastinated it for so long, and so easy that she was now a little bit excited instead of so dreadfully scared.

Then, they fell into each others arms and onto their sheets.

But this time was different.

It was like Alaska’s skin was air, and Sharon’s lips were lungs.

She took control, praising Alaska’s body and showering her with a new kind of love that Alaska didn’t have words for. Sharon didn’t have the words for it either, but they knew what they were thinking. They were both proud of Alaska.

When she came once, twice, three times, Alaska finally fell back against the sheets, completely spent. She pulled the older woman on top of her so her tongue could taste the sweat that had began to form in the hollows of her pale collarbones. Her fingers tangled in Sharon’s hair as their heavy breathing slowed and their nerves continued to jolt with aftershocks.

“I don’t care how cheesy this sounds,” Sharon whispered, her voice deliciously raspy from sex. “I’m thankful for you.”

Alaska’s heart did a summersault.

“I’m thankful for you, too,” she whispered back.

Their lips met, and suddenly Alaska’s breakdown in this exact bed over her future felt like an entire lifetime ago, when it was only last week.

They cuddled, Sharon knowing she’d have to eventually get up and turn all the lights in the apartment off and brush her teeth while she was up anyway, but she wanted to savour the moment for a minute longer.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed.

She peaked her eyes open from where her naked limbs were tangled with Alaska’s.

Maybe it was because she knew by the chime that it wasn’t a text tone, but instead an email. Maybe she knew it was weird for someone to be emailing her work account at 11pm at night, still around the Thanksgiving holiday.

Whatever the reason, something made Sharon check her notifications, and as soon as she saw it, she wished she hadn’t.

Alaska knew something was wrong when Sharon had rolled over to check her phone, only to stay staring, frozen at the screen, not moving.

“What’s wrong?” Alaska said sleepily, holding her head up from the pillow, her hair tousled from sex.

Sharon forced her dry mouth to swallow.

“It’s Chad,” she said, clearing her throat because the words were barely audible the first time. “It’s Chad, from… from work. My boss. Telling me… this meeting… with Bianca…”

Her eyes darted from one word to the next, not processing phrases like ‘urgent meeting’ or ‘sensitive situation’.

Sharon tore her intense gaze away from her phone, the light from the screen casting eerie shadows across her frightened face as she looked at her worried girlfriend — one of her students —in her bed.

“I think they know.”

#extra credit #rosie #shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #cisgirl au #au #angst #comfort #fluff #smut #rpdr fanfiction #college au #student/teacher #lesbian au

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l000ey · 6 years

Text

she (pt. i) → r.d

pairing; ikon x rae dara x winner

summary; she was everything to them, but she left them

warnings; sadness(?

note; i feel bad for them also YES, HANBIN IS IN LOVE WITH HER TOO

she mini series → she | love me | heartbroken

2018

Bobby's leg moved from top to bottom, his eyes instead were fixed on a point on the floor, the fingers of his right hand were playing on the armrest of the chair in which he was sitting while the left hand were busy being the next to have a nail cut thanks to his teeth.

Donghyuk frowned, watching his hyung, in his sight he looked like a damn lunatic waiting for the killing time to come. Bobby had gotten strange but it got even stranger when they arrived at the company this morning, he sat down in that same chair and acquired that pose from which he left every two minutes only to look at the time on the mobile phone resting peacefully in his lap . The youngest had been watching him for an hour and still could not come to a conclusion about why his hyung was like this, had not had anything bad to his family, had no girlfriend to have fought with her and at work It was going well so DK did not understand why he was like that.

"Pss" He tried to get the attention of Junhoe, who passed by his side. He grabbed him by his sweatshirt and sat him beside him, ignoring his moans. "Shut up and look at Bobby."

The boy did as he asked and quickly frowned too, looked at Donghyuk "What's wrong?"

"I don’t know but he’s been like that since we got here" The brunette shrugged as they both whispered, one stuck to the other so that it would be much easier to hear each other and keep Bobby from hearing them even though he seemed to be in his own world.

"Hey guys!" A smiling and noisy Chanwoo entered the room causing both older people to turn quickly to give him a bad look.

"Shhh!" They both whispered making the maknae take a couple of steps backwards.

"Okay?" He whispered to himself, surprised at the way his friends acted. He approached them cautiously, then June pointed to Jiwon "What's the matter?"

"We don’t..." Donghyuk's response was interrupted by the voice of a television journalist "Hey, look, it's the boss" He pointed to making the pink haired and the maknae look at the screen. Bobby, upon hearing it, stood up quickly and looked at the screen worried.

"Yang Hyunsuk, CEO of entertainment agency YG Entertainment, announces that the contract of rapper and former 2NE1 member, Red, is over and that she has decided not to renew it."

Quickly Bobby looked for the control of the television to extinguish the tv but he knew that already it was behind schedule, they already had heard it and they would not take much in running to say it to the others. He turned off the television and turned to see the youngers of the group, all three appreciate being in shock since they were still looking at the screen even though it was already off.

"Red noona leaves?" Junhoe's low voice broke the silence causing the three to move their gaze to Bobby, who opened his eyes wide and shook his hands in denial.

"I don’t know anything".

"How will you not know? You are her best friend! "Chanwoo exclaimed before getting up and making the gesture to approach him but Donghyuk stopped him "She tells you everything, it's obvious that you know! "

"Chanwoo, stop" Donghyuk told him, surprisingly calm, but the maknae kept stirring, wanting to get closer to the older one.

The phones of the four began to sound without stopping. Twitter and instagram nofications were heard without stopping around the room, the four looked at each other before the three youngers rushed to get their phones out of their pockets. Millions of mentions in comments and posts about the departure of Red of Yg filled their social networks.

Suddenly many more sounds of notifications were heard outside the room and then some screams and sounds of footsteps running. The others had learned too.

Quickly the four left the room to see how Hanbin leaned against the wall breathless and with his phone smashed on the floor near his feet. Bobby grimaced thinking about how badly Hanbin and Mino were going to get it because, after him, they were the ones closest to her. Mino to another level, but...

The leader looked up from his destroyed phone and looked at it "Is it true?"

Bobby didn’t say anything so Hanbin let out a grunt before running to him, grabbing him by the neck and hitting him against the wall. Chanwoo let out a muffled scream of terror as Donghyuk and Junhoe tried to separate them "Hyung, let him go!"

"Is it true that she is leaving?!" He shouted a few inches from his face but Bobby turned to silence again. Hanbin growled again, this time raising his fist, ready to hit him "Answer me the damn question, fuck!"

"Hanbin." Mino's voice caught his attention. Everyone turned to see him, his face was sunk in tears making the five feel sorry for him, even Mino felt sorry for himself but did not let others see him so there he was, with his face soaked in tears but with an expression It would be that it showed nothing. Behind him were Seunghoon and Yunhyeong "Let him go."

The leader released him almost with regret. Bobby sighed in relief once his neck was free of the other Kim's hands. June and Donghyuk rushed to help him get up and ask him that if he was okay while Hanbin walked away from them to check his phone.

"Bobby" Mino called his friend making him look at him "Is it true?"

"No. That her contract is over and she doesn’t want to renew it is a lie but she leaves, that is true. "The black haired man sighed, nodding at Bobby's explanation. He looked at Hanbin, who was crouched checking his phone with his back to everyone. "Sorry for not telling you but it was not my duty to do it, it's her thing and it was she who told me not to tell you anything".

"Do you know when she planned to tell us?" Seunghoon spoke for the first time since the three of them arrived at the disaster that was happening in the hallway of the studios.

He quickly shook his head "I know she wanted to tell you before anyone knew it but I guess YG has gone ahead before she could say anything."

"Why is she leaving?" Mino asked. His deep voice was hoarse and barely audible when he spoke, he must have screamed long before he got here.

"She doesn’t feel comfortable with her life right now, I-I think she wants to change her live in some way so that she's happy and comfortable" He stuttered. Even Bobby was confused by what was happening and he was also sad because, well, it would be hard to see his best friend if they did not work in the same agency. It was difficult before working in the same place, imagine being from different agencies.

Mino nodded and no one said anything more for a couple of minutes, all you could hear were the pieces of cellphone being picked up by Hanbin's fingers until a sob was heard. Everyone looked up to see who was the owner of that sob but had not been anyone. Chanwoo turned around to see Hanbin's trembling back.

"Hyung?" Another sob made his back twitch even more, the maknae sighed before crouching down and hugging him from behind.

"I can not believe she's leaving." He sobbed and then Mino dropped to the floor, sobbing too. The others looked at them with pity, they also hurt that Red left but for Mino and Hanbin, it must be a torture for them to know that the girl they love leaves.

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jikook-love · 6 years

Text

chasing sunlight

“Pleasure? I taught you pleasure.”

Accused of a crime he didn’t commit, Jeon Jungkook escapes into an abandoned building, only to run into an irresistible sin that had been haunting his memories for the past three years.

combining prompts from @littlestarpjm and @whyyoushouldlove to write the pseudo-sequel to chasing clouds !

Three years ago, Jeon Jungkook naively followed a stranger into a rainstorm without looking back.

Now, he’s being chased through streets he didn’t know, all while running after someone who had chosen to abandon him a long time ago. He knew it wasn’t his fault. He knew he’d been wrongfully accused. But it didn’t matter, because he’d already chosen to run. And those who were truly innocent usually had nothing to run from.

He clutched his camera tightly in his hands. It was an older device that had once belonged to a younger, much more naive version of himself from three years ago. It still had the exact same chips in all the same places, as well as the tiny and faded “J.K.” initials that he’d drawn on the bottom with white-out. Although he hadn’t seen it since, it had arrived on his doorstep a few nights ago in a brown parcel with no return address. Along with the camera, there was a piece of paper with a single line of ambiguous instructions on it:

“Find me where there exists sunlight in darkness.”

Any other person would’ve ignored such a strange package, but not Jungkook. To him, it was a calling, a sign that he’d been waiting for for years now. It was a message from the past that he had so desperately yearned for and was now literally knocking at his door.

And so he packed everything up. What he couldn’t, he left behind, including his job as a freelance photographer that was finally beginning to thrive after so long. Bidding farewell to his friends, Jeon Jungkook began chasing after a memory that should’ve been sealed away for good. It was ironic, because as much as his appearance and mind had developed within the past three years, his heart remained unwavering, only knowing how to desire the sole person.

At the beginning, he was running at his own pace. One afternoon, everything suddenly changed. Jungkook had been wandering around the alleyways of a smaller downtown area, searching every nook and cranny, when he was tapped on the shoulder.

“Whose camera is that?” a man dressed in a black suit asked him, pointing at the fancy lens draped around his neck.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook responded.

“Let me see that camera,” he demanded suddenly.

At that point, Jungkook became irritated. Snatching the camera away so that it was out of reach, he said: “Listen, this camera is my last possession. You’re not having it. So stop trying. Go swindle someone else.”

And then he was scampering away again, not looking back even when he heard the stranger yell: “You’ll regret this!”

As early as that night, while Jungkook was trying to have dinner peacefully at a local diner, three strangers surrounded his table, getting up into his space with nasty snarls on their faces.

“Um. Can I help you?” Jungkook asked, his face entirely blank.

“Give us your camera,” one of them demanded.

Jungkook hesitated, then moved towards his bag slowly, knowing he was outnumbered. Suddenly, in one swift motion, Jungkook grabbed his plate and threw it as hard as it he could towards them, immediately creating a diversion. Taking advantage of the moment, Jungkook leaped over the table and pushed the strangers aside, running as fast as he could away from the sound of their angered cries.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Jungkook rushed into the streets, turning this way and that in order to lose his pursuers. At first, he was confident. He’d always been fast on his feet, his athletic ability was challenged by few.

It wasn’t until he heard the echo of gun shots that dread coursed through his body.

Shit. This is serious.

Still, he had no choice but to keep running. He dodged into narrow alleyways, cut through open buildings and ran until his breath caught his throat.

Goddammit. Maybe I should’ve checked to see what’s in those photos...

Taking an instinctive turn, Jungkook accidentally slammed his shoulder into a brick wall. Crying out loud, Jungkook stumbled into an abandoned building, clutching his shoulder to ease the pain.

Once the pain had subsided, Jungkook looked up to see that all was quiet. Leaning against the wall, he stopped to catch his breath, hoping they wouldn’t find him here. He groped around his bag to check that his precious camera was still safe and sound. Upon feeling that it was still there, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Loud voices outside startled him. He decided to go deeper into the empty building, hoping to hide away until it had all subsided. Running as nimbly as he could, Jungkook rushed towards the darkest area of the building. He looked around one more time, just to be sure that he was safe.

“You actually came,” a voice suddenly called from the dark.

Jungkook spun around at once, eyes wide. He could never mistake that voice, not even in his deepest delusions.

“Jimin,” he cried out, his voice breaking, as the person walked out of the darkness.

Jungkook watched, mesmerized, as it was indeed Park Jimin who stepped into his sight. It was an understatement to say that Park Jimin was a sight for sore eyes. Jungkook’s skin felt like it was on fire, his body bursting from within.

Jimin was just as beautiful as he remembered--if anything he had become more beautiful since the last time Jungkook saw him. His eyes were just as charming as they were in his memories, if not laden with a tempting melancholy that made them even more irresistible than before. His hair that was once an eye catching blonde was now a sultry black, dark as the night itself. When he tilted his head to see Jungkook, the strands fell into his eyes, making him appear twice as captivating as he was before. And when Jimin’s perfect, pretty lips parted into a slight smile upon seeing him, Jungkook felt like he would go crazy (if he hadn’t already). Emphasized by the remnants of adrenalin, Jungkook felt the urge to gasp for air as his heart sped up to unbelievable speeds.

“Jimin,” Jungkook spoke, mixed emotions choking up his voice. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Jimin gazed at Jungkook through his half-lidded eyes that were clearly beckoning him to come closer.

“We’re not safe right now,” Jimin spoke slowly. “Come with me.”

Immediately, Jimin turned his back walking deeper into the darkness of the building. A strange coldness emanated from him, causing Jungkook to hesitate. He had so many questions to ask and so many things to say, but the feeling seemed far from mutual.

Of course. He was the one that ran away first after all. Naturally he wouldn’t be happy to see me. Jungkook shook the thought out of his mind, deciding that since he’d already gotten this far, he would go through with it until the end. Besides, from the moment he laid eyes on Jimin, Jungkook was already under his control. His feet would move against his will regardless, following what his heart desired.

Soon, he found himself in room with a single dim light in the middle, with Jimin carefully closing the door behind them. The room was empty otherwise, with only an embedded mirror in front of them, surrounded by deteriorating walls covered in various paints.

“Stay here,” Jimin said. “For now.”

“O-okay,” Jungkook responded dumbly, unable to tear his eyes away from Jimin, even in this dim lighting.

He took a deep breath before talking. “Jimin, I--”

“Shhh,” Jimin hushed. “Now’s not the time.” Jungkook was taken aback. “What do you mean not now?” he asked. “I’ve finally found you again after three years.”

“Three years already, huh?” Jimin said weakly, avoiding eye contact with Jungkook. “It must’ve been. Look how much you’ve grown. You’re so much more handsome and mature now.”

Jungkook remained silent, not sure where this conversation was going. Something was off. Jimin didn’t seem quite well. Even his way of speaking lacked the compassion it used to radiate with.

Cautiously, Jungkook reached out towards Jimin’s shoulder. “Jimin, are you alright?” he asked gently. The touch sent a shiver through him, and he could tell Jimin felt it too when he barely gasped and turned to Jungkook.

His eyes are still the prettiest. Jungkook gulped as he stared straight into them, trying hard not to get engulfed but failing miserably anyway.

“Jimin, I--I...” Jungkook stumbled to find the right words.

“Did you miss me that much?” Jimin asked suddenly, a leer in his voice. Jungkook’s heart pounded in his chest. The Jimin from three years ago spoke with a wonderful kindness in his every words--this Jimin almost felt like a stranger.

But somehow, Jungkook was only more drawn to him.

“O-of course,” Jungkook answered. “That’s why I-I’m...here.”

“You actually tried so hard to look for me,” Jimin spoke slowly. “Do I really mean that much to you?”

“You don’t even know,” said Jungkook, voice cracking. “I never stopped looking for you. Not once.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Jimin crooned.

Jungkook gazed at him with the most desperate, melancholic eyes. “For the past years, I don’t think I’ve gone a day without wondering where you were or what you were up to. I could barely talk to anyone, my favourite foods started to taste bland, and it became so, so difficult to just simply get out of bed in the morning. It was as if my body forgot how to feel pleasure...”

Jimin, who had been listening quietly and patiently up until this point, chose this moment to startle Jungkook with a gentle laugh.

“Pleasure?” he asked, tilting his head upwards and smiling. “I taught you pleasure...didn’t I?”

“Huh?” Jungkook reacted.

Another soft chuckle, almost as if Jimin was mocking Jungkook. “That’s what you really miss, isn’t it? The pleasure,” Jimin spoke shrewdly. “Really, you’re just afraid, aren’t you? Afraid that you’ll never feel anything like that ever again.”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook questioned, unsettled by the change in Jimin’s tone.

Jimin stepped closer in Jungkook’s personal space, eyes searing into Jungkook with a ferocious heat.

“You couldn’t forget, could you?” Jimin slurred, suddenly tracing his fingers onto Jungkook’s mouth. “The way I tasted on your lips. The way my skin burned beneath your fingertips. The way I writhed beneath you until the early hours of the morning. The way I screamed your name like it was the only thing I knew in the whole world. That’s what you really miss, isn’t it? The way I took the pure and innocent you and tainted you with my own colours.”

Before Jungkook had even realized it, his lips had subconsciously parted for Jimin’s fingers and his eyes had become half-lidded at the hypnotic melody of Jimin’s silky voice. He couldn’t resist it, any of it, despite the bleak implications of Jimin’s words, as he felt himself obediently and quietly stepping into Jimin’s arms.

“Jimin, I...” Jungkook found himself whispering. “I want you so bad.”

A pause, before Jimin smirked again and uttered a simple sentence that even Jungkook could comprehend in that moment, despite his hazy state:

“I know.”

And then everything went up into flames. A scorching, full-on kiss, as Jimin threw himself into Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook’s eyes widened for a second, overwhelmed by the sensation that he’d been craving for for so long. But then his eyes fluttered shut, unable to resist, melting into wonderful bliss. His hand reached up to Jimin’s jaw, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. When Jimin’s tongue slipped between his lips, Jungkook found his hands roaming all over Jimin’s body, caressing over and under the thin layers of his clothes. Jimin’s skin was soft, pliable and unblemished beneath his fingertips, and he couldn’t help but want to mark it for himself.

Their heavy pants caused the air to thicken up with lustful ambience. When Jungkook’s fingers suddenly trespassed a sensitive spot, Jimin’s knees buckled, causing them both to topple onto the dirty ground. But they didn’t care, lost in the fervor, as they continued wrestling one another, fingers tangled desperately into each other’s hair. The way Jimin’s body was starting to writhe beneath Jungkook’s was mind-blowing. With every thrilling touch and gratified gasp, every sensation accumulated into the next, and it gradually became pleasure followed by pleasure, neither of them able to stop.

When they finally had the sense to pull their tongues apart for two seconds to catch their breath, Jungkook immediately dove for Jimin’s neck, biting and sucking and marking the bare skin as he’d originally intended. Jimin reciprocated by moaning aloud, wrapping his arms tighter around Jungkook’s head and tilting his own head back, exposing even more skin for Jungkook to blemish.

“Ah, Jungkook…” Jimin called his name, repositioning himself so that his lips were right next to Jungkook’s ear.

“You need to get out of here.”

Jungkook froze, straightening up at the sudden statement that seemed awfully out of place.

“H-huh, why?” Jungkook asked. “Did I do something wrong?” His mind scrambled for an answer, slightly frantic as to why Jimin was suddenly pushing him away.

Jimin tried to approach Jungkook cautiously. “Jungkook--”

“Wait!” Jungkook cried, his eyes flashing at a suddenly realization. “I forgot the most important part.” He turned around and started to rustle around in his bag.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Jungkook, wait! Don’t--!”

But it was too late. Jungkook was already holding the camera out to Jimin with outstretched hands, his expression eagerly expecting praise.

“You told me to bring this, didn’t you?” Jungkook said. “I know it was mine three years ago but it must’ve been important to you so I—”

Sudden, extreme pain throbbed through the back of his skull, as Jungkook suddenly felt himself falling forwards. The last thing Jungkook saw, before everything faded to black, was Jimin’s remorseful expression in front of him as he turned away.

“J-Jimin?”

He wasn’t sure if the words were ever truly uttered out loud or not, or if they had simply been the final thoughts conjured up by his fading mind.

~3 years ago~

Jungkook toppled happily onto his back into the soft sheets, with Jimin falling on top of him. In a matter of seconds, he could taste the intoxicating flavour of the remnants of alcohol, as Jimin’s lips pressed lovingly into his own, sending them both into a state of euphoria.

“Don’t you think you’ve had too much to drink?” Jungkook laughed, as Jimin sat up, straddling his thighs.

Jimin shrugged in a lovely way, the strands of his gorgeous blonde hair slipping onto his eyes.

“The night is still young, and we’ve got plenty of time to celebrate,”Jimin surmised. He leaned in again, and Jungkook found himself grabbing and rubbing Jimin’s waist this time, as the kiss had deepened since the last.

“You honestly didn’t seem like the type to be into photography,” Jungkook speculated aloud.

“Maybe I’m not,” Jimin sighed, pulling back and slightly rolling his hips. “But I’m sure that whatever you’ll do it’ll be beautiful. And that makes me excited.”

Jungkook glanced over to the newly purchased camera that he’d left on the table next to them. Soon, he would be using that camera to start his job as a photographer, a job that many dreamed of but often had low prospects. He gave a deep sigh, barely remembering the world he’d left behind to reach this point. The camera represented his alternate future—a future with Park Jimin by his side.

And as he watched the Jimin of that very moment-- on top of him with tousled blonde hair, gorgeous lidded eyes and plump, parted lips, lightly grinding his hips into Jungkook’s body--what a beautiful future it seemed to be.

“Jimin,” he groaned, straightening up suddenly to push his lover beneath him. Tracing the lines of Jimin’s lips, Jungkook kissed him as passionately as he could, desperately trying to portray all was feeling.

“You’ll always be here,.right?” Jungkook asked between kisses.

Jimin brushed his thumb underneath Jungkook’s eye and smiled at him. It was the most mesmerizing smile Jungkook had ever seen in all of his life. A smile of promise.

“Where else would I go?” Jimin whispered.

Satisfied, Jungkook was about to pin Jimin down again when he was suddenly pushed backwards, as Jimin had gotten up to retrieve something.

“You alright?” Jungkook asked, straightening up.

“Of course,” Jimin replied, picking up the camera. “You know, you’re so lucky that you already have a first customer even though you just started.”

Jungkook blinked. “What? No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Jimin smiled, pushing the camera into Jungkook’s hands. Jungkook watched, his mouth dried, as Jimin reached up to his own shirt and starting undoing the buttons. Slowly. One by one.

“Me,” Jimin purred, biting his lip.

Jungkook was jolted awake with a throb of pain in the back of his head. Groaning, he struggled to pull himself back up to a seating position. Touching his nape, his fingers became covered with a stickiness that was probably his own blood. After an effort to open his eyes, he realized it was all futile anyway, as there was nothing but darkness surrounding him.

After his eyes had finally adjusted, Jungkook looked around to realize that he was still in the same room Jimin had led him into earlier. But this time, he was all alone. His belongings and the camera had also dissappeared.

A heaving ache tore at his heart, as he tried to comprehend all that was happening. Gone. Jimin was gone. Just as soon as he’d finally found him again. Part of him wanted to fall to the ground and start screaming in agony. But there was no time for that--he had to run after Jimin again. Before it was too late.

Bursting out the front doors of the building, Jungkook noticed that the sky was now a dark blue colour as opposed to the pitch black it’d been earlier. An anguished noise growled from his throat, as he realized he’d been knocked out for practically the entire night.

“Jimin. Jimin, where are you?” Jungkook whispered to himself, looking left and right. But of course, there was not another human shadow in sight. Desperation washed over him, slowly turning into a frustration that he failed to hide in his expression. With furrowed brows and an angry grimace, Jungkook racked his mind for anything that could be a possible hint.

Maybe...maybe he just ran off again. But what if he’s in danger? Think, Jungkook. Think. Where would you take him if you were the bad guys?

The answer was anywhere--they could’ve taken Jimin anywhere. Considering that they’d been able to take Jungkook out in one hit, god knows what condition Jimin was in right at that point.

As the dread finally began to sink in, Jungkook looked around one last time, before simply deciding on choosing an arbitrary direction. He took a deep breath, and poised to run, praying that it would be the right direction.

“Jungkook, no…don’t leave me…”

Jungkook gasped, turning around, with Park Jimin’s voice clear and vivid in his mind. He found himself facing the same old abandoned building, but again, there was no one to be seen.

I must be hallucinating, Jungkook thought, tilting his head. Shaking it out of his mind, Jungkook took a step forward once more.

“Jungkook! Please!”

Jungkook couldn’t help it. He turned around yet again, breathing heavily, certain that he’d heard what he’d heard. Staring deeply into the building, he saw nothing, nothing but darkness.

“Jungkook...please…”

He took a cautious step, heading back into the place he’d just left. And then another. And another. His pulse quickened, his palms started sweating, and his breath hitched in his throat. Something about it felt right. Though he wasn’t quite sure what.

His walking pace slowly became a light jog, which then escalated into a full run, as he began to scour through every inch of the building in his search.

“Jimin!” Jungkook called over and over again. “Jimin! Are you here?! Jimin!”

He opened every door to every room, making sure not to miss even any of the rusty cupboards or broken closets. He ran and ran, not wanting to give up on the feeling that he was certain was right.

At long last, exhaustion hit him upon entering what seemed to be the last room. Hands on his knees, Jungkook bent forwards to catch his breath. When he had come to, he realized it was the exact same room he’d been unconscious in only moments ago. He grimaced to himself, realizing what this ultimately meant, that he’d wasted all this time looking in the wrong place.

“Dammit,” he growled aloud, punching the wall in anger. Closing his eyes in anguish, he sank to his knees, wanting to end everything right then and there. He’d gone so far, only to fail at the very last minute, in the worst way possible. If only he’d been more careful, if only he’d listened to Jimin, if only--

“Jungkook….that’s you, isn’t it?”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed open and looked straight right in front of him. As expected, there was nothing in front of him, except the wall with a large mirror embedded into it. He saw his reflection, grubby and ruined. It was indeed the most horrible state of himself he’d ever seen.

Wait… that…

Slowly, he stepped up to the mirror and brushed his fingers across the surface. Upon seeing his fingertips directly touch the glass, a surge of hope suddenly flooded through him.

Using all the strength he had left, Jungkook swung his leg and kicked down the glass. As the remnants shattered beneath him, his eyes widened as he took in the disturbing sight before him.

There indeed was Park Jimin, unconscious, and tied up in a rusty metal chair. Layers of fabric were tied around his mouth to prevent him from uttering any noise during the time he was there.

“J-Jimin,” Jungkook cried in anguish, immediately rushing forward to undo the ties from Jimin’s mouth and hands. “Jimin, wake up!”

Jimin’s body flopped about, still unmoving. Tears threatened to burst from Jungkook’s eyes, as he finally undid the ties from Jimin’s wrists. He pulled Jimin away from the chair, and laid him gently down onto the ground. This is my fault. This is all my fault.

“Jimin…” he called again, each time more desperately than the last. “Jimin, I’m so sorry. Jimin, please. Wake up. Please.”

Jungkook pulled Jimin into his arms, furiously attempting to transfer the warmth into his body. The tears finally started to leak out of his eyes, in fear of what the worst case scenario would be.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” Jungkook spoke his name like a mantra. At the end of his tolerance, Jungkook held Jimin tightly in his arms. With his cheeks still wet from the tears, he pressed his lips against Jimin’s, wanting to breathe the life back into him. He was hysterical, but it didn’t matter. All he wanted was Jimin.

It’d felt like decades when he finally found the sense to let go. Feeling exhausted, Jungkook put Jimin’s body back on the ground, turning around to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Jimin...I’m so sorry,” he repeated, the world feeling like it was falling apart at last.

“There’s...nothing to be sorry about.”

Jungkook jolted upwards, turning around expectantly. And there he was. Park Jimin struggling to get up right in front of him.

“Jimin!” Jungkook cried in relief, throwing himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around his frail body.

“Stop, stop it!” Jimin coughed, still exhausted. “What is this? Snow White?”

Jungkook brushed the back of his neck nervously. He was rather impressed at Jimin’s ability to joke even in such a perilous situation.

“We need to get out of here,” Jungkook said urgently. “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“It’s fine, they’re gone,” Jimin said, rubbing at his wrists that had been tied. “And no. They only knocked you unconscious. They didn’t touch me other than to tie me up.”

“Who’s they?”

Jimin hesitated, and Jungkook thought he saw a flicker of fear in his beautiful eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimin said at once, quickly getting to his feet. “You’re right, let’s get out of here first.”

“Jimin, wait!” Jungkook called, grabbing onto Jimin’s wrist to hold him back. “It does matter. You should tell me everything now.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Jungkook insisted. “These people tied you up...and left you to die.”

He gazed at Jimin firmly in the eye, and refused to let go.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me the truth about who they are and where you’ve been for the past three years,” Jungkook affirmed.

But Jimin also remained steadfast. “Jungkook, I...I can’t…”

“I ran all this way to find you,” Jungkook said. “The least you can do is tell me the truth.”

“How do you know I’m not lying to you?” Jimin said abruptly. “Even up until this very point. I could’ve been lying to you all along.”

“Because I--” Jungkook started his sentence, but was afraid to finish it. Because I heard your voice. Calling for me. Even now he wasn’t sure if that was truly Jimin’s voice or simply a distorted fantasy he’d dreamed up. Regardless, it had brought him here--and it had saved Jimin’s life.

“Because I trust you,” Jungkook opted to say instead. “Just as I’m sure you trust me.”

He watched Jimin’s eyes widen, as if his speculation had hit the mark. The cold persona was gone, to be replaced with a gentle, slightly insecure Park Jimin that he was much more comfortable with.

“I...I’m sorry for everything,” Jimin spoke. “I don’t know if you’ll even believe me but back then, I really didn’t mean to leave you for...so long.”

“Even if you hadn’t told me that, it’s what I’ve been telling myself anyway,” Jungkook mumbled.

“They were...people I once messed around with,” Jimin said cautiously. “Long before I met you. They’d found me again and they wanted trouble. I didn’t want you to get involved, so I tried to leave and get it all sorted out by myself. I guess it just kind of took much longer than I’d expected it to.”

“Why did you take my camera with you?” Jungkook asked.

Jimin shrugged guiltily. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess, I just wanted something to remember you by...or I just couldn’t stand the idea of you using that exact camera to take pretty photos of anyone else.”

Jungkook stared at Jimin, shocked that Jimin had the capacity for that level of possessiveness back then--he’d certainly never shown it.

“I put it to good use though,” Jimin said pointedly. “Everytime the higher ups wanted to do something with me, I tricked them into compromising positions or places and then took high quality photos of them that I threatened to post online if they didn’t leave me alone.”

“Who exactly were these higher ups?” Jungkook asked, prodding a tongue in his cheek. It was difficult to hold back anger at thought of any disgusting pervert trying to take advantage of Jimin.

“You’d be surprised,” Jimin spoke, managing a weak smile. “Big names, some of them really unexpected. All tangled up in a messed up, underground network. They care about their face value, you see. So my plan worked very well. Well, until a few weeks ago.”

“What happened?” Jungkook asked, intrigued.

Jimin scoffed, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “It took those idiots three whole years to realize that if they took the camera away, then I would have nothing left to keep me safe. It was my lifeline in a way. I always kept it well hidden but when I noticed they were scheming something I decided to hide it where none of us could get to it.”

“...so that’s when you sent it back to me,” Jungkook realized, chills running down his spine. “Weren’t you afraid? They could’ve tortured you.”

“They needed to keep me alive so long as I had their photos,” Jimin shrugged. “But I guess they did torture me. When they found out about you. They threatened to come after you...and I guess they did. The rest is history. Once they find out I’m still alive, they’ll probably come after me again. I have nothing to protect me anymore, now that the camera’s gone.” Jimin wrapped his arms tightly around his body, his fear clearly evident in his posture.

“Jimin…”

“Look, I get it, okay?” Jimin sighed, almost as in exhaustion. “I’m not who you thought I was. The happy, free-spirited boy who you rushed off into the rainstorm with back then...he doesn’t exist. This is the real me. A person with so many problems, a slave of his past. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the person you love, Jungkook. I really am.”

Silence drifted between them, as the weight of Jimin’s words slowly sank in. It was true, that the Jimin in front of him was indeed very different from the Jimin he’d first fallen for. The Jimin he knew best was always smiling and would never lie to him, no matter the predicament. This Jimin was flawed, full of dangerous secrets and chained down by a hidden past of disgrace and regret.

Jungkook sighed, taking a step closer to Jimin.

“You’re right,” Jungkook agreed bluntly. “You’re nothing like the person I fell in love with.”

Jimin looked away in sadness, knowing that this would be for the best. Suddenly, he felt gentle fingers tracing his jawline. Gasping, he turned around just in time to see Jungkook with his eyes closed, leaning in to capture his lips in his own. Jimin’s body remained stiffened for a moment, until he too couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, its sensation so familiar and so comforting.

Pulling apart, Jungkook traced the lips of Jimin’s sensitive lips. Jungkook watched him with a tender gaze, even when tears started to leak uncontrollably out of Jimin’s eyes.

“But that doesn’t really matter,” Jungkook said softly. “Because I’m still in love with you. Flaws and all.”

To prove his point, he pulled Jimin’s trembling body into his arms. The truth was, like anyone else, Jungkook still had his uncertainties. Whether or not this Jimin would stay by his side and reciprocate his feelings forever, only time would tell. In fact, it was highly dependent merely on the fact that he was sure he had heard Jimin’s voice in his head...which in itself was possibly a sign of insanity.

But ultimately, he knew there was still only one thing his heart wanted. And that was Jimin.

Carefully, Jungkook ran his fingers gently through Jimin’s hair as he pressed his lips against the top of Jimin’s head, almost as if Jimin would suddenly shatter apart within his arms if he was too rough.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jungkook said softly. “I know we can’t go home anymore because they know of that place, but let’s find a new home somewhere else. Let’s run off again. Together this time. I promise I’ll do my best to protect you.”

He felt Jimin’s fingers clutch deeper into the fabric of his jacket. Jungkook took it as a wordless agreement.

“Here, get on my back,” Jungkook said suddenly, shuffling so that Jimin could climb on.

Jimin was shocked. “Why--?”

“I can handle it,” Jungkook asserted. “You look exhausted. Let’s go to the nearest hospital and get our injuries checked out. We can take it from there.”

Realizing that Jungkook wasn’t giving in, Jimin quietly climbed onto Jungkook’s back, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Jungkook felt Jimin’s head slightly nuzzle into his neck, and just like that, Jungkook carried him to the front of the building.

“By the way, how did you find me?” Jimin wondered aloud suddenly. “I could’ve been anywhere.”

“Sometimes the best way to hide things is to hide it in plain sight,” Jungkook lied.

“I think I forgot to thank you for that…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

As Jungkook stepped foot outside, it was as if the city was cast in a surreal orange glow. Shielding his eyes, he realized that morning had finally arrived after a long night, and the sun was barely hovering in an enchanting golden colour, just above the horizon. With the sensation of Jimin’s warmth on his back and the mesmerizing image of it all, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile weakly to himself.

“Jimin, look,” he whispered. “It’s so pretty.”

No response. A quick glance over showed a fatigued Jimin, eyes closed and breathing slowly on his back. A strange sense of comfort washed over him, as he realized Jimin had completely fallen asleep within his arms.

After stealing a swift kiss from Jimin’s cheek, Jungkook trudged onwards with no true idea of which direction to head in, his heart aching in happiness and uncertainty. But it didn’t matter. For the sun had finally risen again in his life, and it he would hang onto this feeling for as long as it would last. Perhaps, it was all a delusion, but it was indeed a fantasy that made his life worth living. Perhaps, one day he would learn to move on. But for now, there was something, something that made Jungkook want Jimin more than anything else in the world, and though he wasn’t sure exactly what it was, he couldn’t help but cling onto it with every inch of his being.

“Jungkookie~ I love you.”

Jungkook froze in his steps.

Ah. I must be hearing things again.

He shook the thought out of his head and continued walking towards the sunlight, fiddling with the memory card that he’d taken out of the camera earlier and hidden in his pocket.

After all, the sun-lit path was always the brightest and most hopeful path of them all.

This idea started from the FAKE LOVE teasers, and continued until the song was released. Naturally, I listened to it the whole the time while writing this. However, if this thing had ending credits, that’s when everyone gets shook as the whistling of DNA fills the ears ;)

phew. this was fun. got a lot of stuff off my back :) thank you so much for the two that sent me these prompts and basically put it together ^^

now onto finishing that HP au you guys have been harping for :3 ty for reading my stuffs! :D

#jikook #jikook fic #^^#a darker one this time #i hope you like it~#fanfic #secretfanfics

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dimancheetoile · 6 years

Text

carve a suit of armour of your bones

Written for @mouseymightymarvellous for the @narutogiftexchange (yes I’m weeks late. I know.) I hope I did justice to your amazing prompt. Also, title is from @mouseymightymarvellous‘s own poem, you are more than your demons//the only demons here are you

Read on AO3

“You fucking pig!”

The sound of shattered glass makes her flinch. She stumbles, her grip firm on the sake bottle. She takes another long swallow of the drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, that's right! Run away, coward!”

Her fist bumps against her chest as she straightens. “I closed the fucking Breach, asshole. Show some respect!”

She wavers, unsteady. Her next step is hesitant and she looses her footing. She's about to faceplant on the floor when a hand catches her wrist.

“Watch it, pussy!”

“Sakura, it's me.”

She turns around, barely standing. She squints, her eyes clouded by the alcohol.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, heavens. Focus, please.”

She blinks and blinks again, until her vision clears enough to zoom in on dark eyes and fair skin.

“Ayame?”

“Yes. Now, come on. We're going home.”

Sakura leans on the other woman, her sake still secure in her hand. There isn't much left but she isn't going to waste it. It's a luxury, even now that the war is over. The Shatterdome is probably the only place she can find some without giving up an arm for it. Lucky for her, she happens to live in the Shatterdome.

The way back is short, if only because she was already wasted when she left her room and didn't have the coordination to walk far. Then that man looked her funny and she might have lost her calm. Might. She's never been known for her cool temper, so fuck them all.

“Get in there, go on.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sakura, don't be difficult, please.”

She snorts but complies silently, tumbling face first into her bed. She remains unmoving while Ayame takes her combat boots off and puts them down.

“Give me the bottle.”

“Piss off, seriously.”

“I'll take it from you.”

“I'd love to see you try, kid.”

Ayame rolls her eyes. “I'm older than you.”

Sakura rises on her elbow to look at the other woman. Her eyes are clear again, but red and tired. The circles underneath are dark as the abyss of the ocean she came back from. She doesn't say anything, only staring at Ayame, with a gaze old as time.

“Go to sleep, Marshal.”

Sakura laughs, short and bitter. Her hands deftly unclasp the straps around her shin and she takes off her cargo pants. Her prosthetic hums quietly, lit from inside with electric blue.

“I don't sleep, Ayame. Why would I risk it?”

The angry scars on her right cheek, twisting her mouth, cast blue shadows on her face.

“They might stop talking to me.”

It's weird to wake up with a hangover and have it being the least annoying thing happening. But her prosthetic is stuck in the covers and Naruto is telling her a joke about frogs that has stopped being funny ten years ago. The hangover is far from being a problem.

She rolls out of bed, tearing off a piece of the covers without an ounce of regret. The mirror in the small bathroom of her bunk is laughing at her. She pins her hair in a barely conform bun and flips the bird to her reflection. Sasuke is toying with a strand of her hair as she ties her boots. There is no stopping the shivers running up her spine.

The cafeteria is filled to the brim with life and laughter and optimism. The war is two months old, just enough to allow for wounds to heal. Small wounds, at least. The gaping abyss in her soul isn't healing any time soon.

Ayame smiles at her when she gets her tray. Sakura finds that she can't quite return it. There is rust between her teeth and her smile tastes like iron.

It only gets worst when people leave a wide space for her to seat at the table. She knows, she knows that she's a legend to them, but it only feels like the plague in her brain is contaminating everyone around her. She eats her beans and ignores Naruto when he pokes at her cheek with his fork.

The cadets are waiting for her in the training room. She doesn't salute anyone when she goes inside, only grabs her practice stick and stands in position. It's two hours of kicking their asses before going back to her room. They don't stand a chance, and they shouldn't. No one should ever see the insides of that wretched Breach if she has anything to say about it.

(she doesn't say that the Breach is a grave now, a sepulture for her eyes only)

She's excused from any kind of paperwork that usually comes with being a Marshal. She's one in name only. Benefits of being one of the Sannin, the legendary trio who saved the world.

“Where did you get that bottle?”

Sakura doesn't look up from the bottom of her glass.

“Go away.”

“Give me the bottle, Sakura,” Ayame sighs.

She looks the cook straight in the eyes and empties the full litre of vodka in one go.

“You'll make yourself sick, heavens!”

Sakura puts the bottle down and rises with difficulty. Her heavy breathing fills the air with the smell of liquor.

“This needs to stop, Sakura. You can't keep going on like this.”

“Yeah? Watch me.”

“I know you're in pain—”

Ayame yells in surprise when Sakura shatters the bottle against the wall. She's panting, her eyes wide, hair falling in every direction.

“Do not talk to me about pain. Don't you dare.”

“Sakura—”

“Go fuck yourself.”

She drops the remains of the bottle on the ground and turns around.

“Is there a problem?”

“Oh, dear gods. I'm glad you're here.”

Sakura takes a step back.

“Stay the fuck away. I'm serious. If you touch me, I'll break your arm.”

Shikamaru walks in her direction, his uniform sharp and insignia shining. She can't remember if she's seen him since the final drop. His voice is a painful echo of informations and orders, relays of whatever Marshal Senju had to say.

“Come with me, Sakura.”

“I'm not going anywhere. There's perfectly good sake waiting for me in my room.”

“Please, listen to him.”

Her shout of rage makes Ayame flinch.

“Why can't you ever leave me alone? Both of you?”

“Come with me, Sakura,” Shikamaru repeats.

With a groan, she complies without looking in Ayame's direction. They walk until reaching the hangar. Sakura is so far in her anger that she doesn't notice where they are until a familiar silhouette makes her raise her eyes.

There he is. Rebuilt, repaired, repainted, ripping her heart out. Titan Seven.

It all comes to her in a rush. The constant ghost drift she has with Naruto and Sasuke goes crazy, bombarding her with images and memories and sensations. Her own memory is hijacked by the last drop, by those few seconds in the Breach where a decision had to be made.

She doesn't realize she's crying until her face is pressed in Shikamaru's neck.

“You're gonna be fine. It's okay.”

She gasps. “I'm alone. All the time. I'm so alone. I want them back!”

“Shhh.”

She hides her scream in his neck, nausea twisting her stomach when she feels Naruto's fingers on the small of her back. Sasuke whispers sweet nothings in her ear and Sakura screams some more. Shikamaru gathers her closer and rocks her gently.

The rust on her teeth starts to spread.

Ayame is braiding her hair.

It's a foreign feeling, a tightness close to her scalp. She learnt it from a Kenyan pilot who died defending the wall of life. Now the braids are drawing pink patterns on golden skin. Sakura is doing her best to focus but she can feel herself dissociate.

Ayame has a sweet voice, a gentleness in the way she pronounces vowels. She's singing something old, something Sakura doesn't understand. The warmth it brings to the deep of her stomach is just what she needs.

The braids are short, they follow the shape of her skull, and it makes her feel clean.

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

A sentence, immediately followed by more singing, like Ayame never stopped to ask the question.

Like Sakura can choose to ignore it if she wants to.

She doesn't.

“I'm cold.”

Shikamaru looks her up and down. His hand barely touches the new braids on her head. She steps closer, and he draws her into a hug.

It's not what she wants, and he knows it. She thinks he knows, at least.

Just in case...

“Make me warm.”

He hugs her tighter, his mouth on her braids. Closed.

“I'm not sleeping with you.”

Sakura closes her eyes, hard.

Naruto is smiling behind her eyelids. His arm is around Sasuke's shoulders and he's gesturing at her to join them. Her jaw trembles.

She's cold.

“I'm not sleeping with you, Sakura!”

The emotion is so different, paired with watery eyes and flushed cheeks.

Where Shikamaru's rejection had felt like exhaustion and defeat, Ayame's is disappointment and hurt.

Shame burns on Sakura's face as she turns away.

Ayame's fingers around her wrist are overlapping with Sasuke's.

“You don't get to leave after asking this!” Ayame is breathing fast, closer to tears than any drunken mistakes of Sakura's has ever brought her. “You need help.”

You do, Sasuke whispers against her throat.

Sakura is cold.

Shikamaru holds her hand all the way to the therapist's office. On her other side, Naruto is playing with her thumb, engrossed in a conversation with Sasuke she's heard a thousand times before.

When they stop at the door, Shikamaru looks at her side like he can see them. Something breaks inside of Sakura. Shikamaru nods and Naruto and Sasuke nod back.

“Leave them with me while you're inside, yeah?”

Sakura opens her mouth, but Ayame appears at the end of the corridor, looking like she's been running. She joins them, not once stepping on neither of her ghosts' toes.

“We'll keep them company,” Ayame says, out of breath.

Sakura swallows hard.

She wraps her hand around the door knob, not daring taking her eyes off of her partners.

(which ones?)

“Marshal Haruno? Please come in.”

The door closes behind her. She breathes in.

Naruto and Sasuke stay on the other side.

#shikasaku #sakura #ayame #shikamaru #naruto #sasuke #narutogiftexchange #fanfiction #pacific rim fusion #my writing #narusasusaku

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kpopblog91 · 7 years

Text

Overboard

Summary: In which Jongin goes a lilllll too hard during sex and hurts you, slight aftercare and stuff

Type: im..... not sure. fluff? lmao

Length: 1.4k

gif unrelated i just love jongin and wanted to leave a small fic for y’all before i go on a writing binge and prob won't post a full story till tues/weds

“It hurts.” You pouted, you were rolled on your tummy, fingers playing against the sheets in the dim room.

Jongin sucked in a breath, his eyes a bit wet with worry as he examined your body up and down.

It was tinged a variety of different colors, pink, red, some purple intermixed with the older bruises. The skin seemed to vibrate with a soft hum next to the silence of the entire room.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, gnawing at his bottom lip.

He hadn’t meant to grip so tight, to use so much force, he didn’t mean to draw blood in some places, he didn’t mean for any of that to happen.

Sucking in a breath that hurt your ribs to do, you moved your neck the best you could, looking down at your hips and behind, examining the bruises and small nicks here and there.

Jongin watched you as he swallowed deeply, his body far away from yours, curled up and holding himself up, he didn’t know what he could do for you.

“Jongin, it’s okay.” Flicking your eyes up, you focused on his face, it was staring at your behind, your neck, your arms, everywhere Jongin had touched you only moments before.

“Jongin, I agreed to this.” You shook your hair out your face a little, wincing but trying to contain your reaction so you wouldn’t worry Jongin any more than he already was, but it didn’t work.

“I did this to you.” He sounded like he wanted to cry, his own eyes not leaving your body.

You mustered up a small smile, pulling up your arms up against your body’s own screams to simply leave them be, propping yourself up on your elbows, Jongin’s eyes maneuvered their way to yours, meeting them with a sad kind of glint.

“Jongin, I agreed to this. I consented, I knew what I was getting myself into.” You laughed airily, your carefree attitude causing Jongin to jump forward a little in surprise.

“But I hurt you, y/n.” He shook his head, light and dark brown pieces of hair falling into his eyes as he closed them, and you sighed again.

“Yeah, you did.” Breathing out again, Jongin peeked at you once the words left your mouth.

He was about to presumably apologize again, before you held up one of your fingers, signaling to be quiet.

“But, I knew what you liked. I wanted to give you what you enjoyed, and it’s not like I'm dying Jongin. It’s just some bruising and a little blood. I’ll be fine.” You pointed your sentence with a smack of your lips, hoping your point was conveyed to Jongin, but he only shook his head again even harder.

“No, I’m sorry y/n.” He was intense, his concern warming up your tummy as you watched him scoot closer to you, his hands hesitant as they came to cup at your face.

Jongin expected you to wince, to pull back, but you only closed your eyes and relaxed into his hands, a small smile creeping up onto your face.

“This is never happening again.” He looked at you with determined eyes, unwavering as the words left his mouth, and you shrugged your shoulders.

You didn’t answer him, only watching as his hands drifted over your body, ghosting near the places he had previously been squeezing, gripping, smacking, and biting.

You weren't a stranger to what Jongin had liked, you noticed he always gripped you like he couldn't get close enough to you, sucked at your neck like he wanted to swallow you whole, pumped into you with an intensity that would turn you into a mess.

You had wanted him to let go, stop containing whatever it was he wanted to do to you, to treat you like you were there for his pleasure only, it’s what you had wanted for him and for you.

Had Jongin went overboard? You couldn't decide, the bruises on your body that were forming from his grip as he had pumped into you, the bites along your neck, some red with blood, those all pointed to yes, he did go overboard.

But it had felt good, you didn't feel good at the moment, but Jongin letting his control slip away and use you for his own pleasure was pleasure for you. You wanted to tell him that, but Jongin was too focused on the results of his actions that it wouldn't have mattered, so you only pursed your lips and blinked up at his face as he examined you still.

“I-I… Lay down.” Jongin’s voice was small, and if it wasn't for the silence of the house, you wouldn't have heard him.

“What is it?” You asked, voice much louder than his and you watched him wince as he began to scoot closer to you, sounds other than voices now filling the air.

“Shhh. Just lay down please.”

You complied, not really wanting to keep your head up anymore anyways. The soft bed below enveloping your scalp as you sighed lightly, closing your eyes as Jongin shuffled a little more.

“Let me know if its too cold.”

You tensed as you felt a cold compress began to swipe at your body gently, traveling lightly over the bruises and small wounds. Jongin watched with tired eyes as your body fell and rose with every breath you took, worry still painted against his features.

The cold compress made its way all over your body, and you felt content. The silence and Jongin’s slow breathing lulling you away as he continued. This went for a while, small cold swipes while Jongin’s hand free hand rubbed lightly at your muscles.

Finally, the cold compress slipped from your body, and you almost completely felt taken over by sleep, not bothering to move as you felt Jongin’s hands began to travel, dropping a cover over your body as you hummed, the pain almost completely subsided now.

His mouth tickled at your ear, and you smiled as his lips opened and small bits of breath played against your skin.

“Lets take you a bath, it’ll help the bruises and swelling.” He whispered, one of your eyes opening to meet his as he pulled away from your ear.

“Can we just cuddle for a bit?”

Jongin pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing lightly.

“No, bath. I want to make you feel better.”

“I already feel better. And I want to be cuddled right now.”

Jongin shook his head, more determined this time.

“Y/n, we have to-“

“Jongin, please.” You closed your eyes, wanting nothing more than to relax and fall asleep next to Jongin for a bit, and you felt him waver next to you, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

“Only for a bit.” He chided, and you smiled, feeling his body tentatively glue itself to you, and Jongin winced as he felt you slowly start to glue yourself to him.   “Be careful.”   You gently placed your head into his open arm, the pain completely gone now as Jongin rubbed his eyes, your bodies completely intertwined now.

“Okay.”

And you both stayed like that, Jongin’s hands coming up to swirl patterns along your body and his breath tickling the top of your head.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine Jongin.”

“I love you. I didn't mean to hurt you like that.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Jongin pursed his lips, unsure of what to do. He watched your body evenly breathe against him, his eyes wet still.

Your breathing evened out eventually, and soft puffs of air came out, signaling to Jongin you were fast asleep.

He stuck out his lips, letting them make contact with your forehead, slick with drying sweat and he smiled despite his inner turmoil.

#jongin #Kim Jongin #jongin scenario #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop reactions #exo #exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #exo smut

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switchjeon · 7 years

Text

Open my arms and into my warm embrace; jinkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin; jinkook. (+ side yoonmin)

Genre: fluff, established relationship, College/University AU

Summary: Jungkook’s home is in Seokjin’s arms

Word count: 2,434

“Hey baby,”

Jungkook pauses from where he’s trying to haul his rucksack through the door, his angry expression softening and heated frustration cooling at the name.

“Need any help?”

Jungkook effectively dumps his rucksack on the floor, drags his art portfolio in too and slams the door shut, leaning against it. He offers Jin a small, exhausted smile,

“I’m okay,” He says, breathless.

Seokjin grins brightly at him, and that’s all it takes for the younger to walk over to where he sits, settling himself into his boyfriend’s lap. Habitually, his arms swing around Seokjin’s neck, leaning the side of his head against the older’s forehead.

“Hi,” He says gently.

“How was class?” Seokjin asks. Jungkook relaxes against him.

He’s not sure what his boyfriend is doing, looking so comfortable in an apartment that isn’t his, on a couch that, also, is not his, but Jungkook doesn’t even think about asking questions, doesn’t even want to, because Seokjin’s arms at the end of a tiring day is where he belongs, and if it’s being presented on a silver plate in front of him, who is he to refuse?

“Tiring,” he groans in response to Seokjin’s question. “Is it Friday yet?” He can feel the elder nod against him and he sighs in relief, “Thank god, I swear this week had like, ten days in it.”

Seokjin laughs and Jungkook feels it against his cheek, a melody in his ears, a warm feeling spreading across his stomach. He’s already forgotten about his crappy day.

He feels his boyfriend pull him closer against his lap, resting Jungkook’s head under his chin, and drawing small shapes into his hip. Jungkook feels safe.

“You said you were tired,” Seokjin says after a pause, “Do you want to take a nap?”

Jungkook hums in agreement, eyes already slipping close at the mention of sleep,

“Shall I take you to bed?”

“Nuh-uh,” Jungkook mumbles, “’m comfortable here,”

Seokjin sighs, but there’s too much fond laced into it for it be out of irritancy.

Rather, he moves back to rest against the couch, pulling Jungkook fully into his lap so he can curl up against his chest, warm and safe in his boyfriend’s arms. When he’s positive he can’t tuck himself in any further, the younger promptly falls asleep.

Jungkook wakes to an empty bed in an empty room. His own room, but it’s empty. He wonders where the comfort of his boyfriend’s arms slipped away to in the last few hours, burying further under the covers until they’re pushed up to his nose. He lays in silence, hearing the clock tick, the murmur of the washer, and the hum of the fridge.

“Baby?” Jungkook’s eyes were just falling shut again when he hears the familiar voice of warmth.

“Hyung!” He pouts when he sees the boy in the doorway, “You left me,”

“I’m sorry,” He grins, “Were you falling back asleep? I didn’t mean to wake you,”

Jungkook pulls his right hand out of the duvet and flexes his fingers towards Seokjin.

“Stay,” He says.

Seokjin rolls his eyes but walks over anyway, grabbing Jungkook’s hand on his way to the bed. Jungkook repositions himself so he’s lying on top of his boyfriend, legs tangled together and face pressed against his chest.

“Don’t leave this time,”

“I won’t.” Seokjin says, and it’s enough to get the younger back asleep in minutes.

The next time Jungkook wakes, it’s with a sudden jump. He can feel sweat trickling down his back, his hands are clammy and his bottom lip is pulled under his teeth.

Seokjin is rubbing comfort into his side within seconds, fingers running up and down his hips and squeezing at the skin.

“Shhh,” He murmurs, “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

The pieces of Jungkook’s awful dream fall away from his mind when he hears that voice, although he remains slightly shaken up, Seokjin’s arms feel safe enough to defend him. He clutches at his boyfriend’s shirt and nestles under his chin, trying to get his breathing straight.

“I love you, hyung.” He whispers softly. The fingers in his side pause momentarily, as Seokjin leans down to press a kiss into his hair.

“I love you too,” He responds, equally as quiet.

“Kook, can you get me that whisk?”

Jungkook doesn’t budge from his place on the countertop and Seokjin rolls his eyes, walking over to get the whisk himself.

“Are you still ignoring me? I said I’m sorry,”

Jungkook remains quiet, eyes boring into the kitchen tiles. Seokjin is sure that if looks could kill, there would be several burning holes in the floor right now.

He sighs, settling the whisk next to his bowl before walking over to his boyfriend, hand coming to rest on his thighs.

“Baby?” He tries, “You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” He pauses to laugh. “I’m sorry.” When Jungkook doesn’t flinch, he leans forward to press a kiss to his jaw, “I’m sorry,” he repeats, then moves to Jungkook’s cheek. When he’s kissed the skin there, he repeats the apology, moving to his forehead to repeat, before he finally makes it down his nose and to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” Seokjin whispers against his lips, and Jungkook suddenly pulls him forwards, arms tightening around his neck as he pushes their lips together. Seokjin’s grip on his thighs tighten once he pushes his tongue into the younger’s mouth, leaving a trail of warmth against his teeth and gums. Jungkook breaks away for a second to catch his breath before pulling the older back in, tighter this time, as he wraps his legs around his boyfriend’s waist, whining into his mouth.

“No-” Yoongi’s voice barely registers in his mind at first, as Seokjin continues to lick into his mouth, breathing heavily, “No, no, no, I eat there you bunch of imps.”

Jungkook grins, pulling back and untangling himself from the elder.

“Sorry, hyung.” He says over Seokjin’s shoulder. When his boyfriend goes to touch his hips, he coils away and jumps off the counter.

“I’m still ignoring you!” He yells as he runs out the kitchen. Seokjin sighs for what seems to be the billionth time in that hour.

(Later that night when Jungkook is cuddled against the elder’s chest and half falling asleep, Seokjin presses a kiss to his forehead and mumbles an I love you baby, and I don’t think my pancakes taste better than yours.)

“Park Jimin would you please hurry the hell up!”

Jungkook hears a giggle from one of the bedrooms of his boyfriend’s apartment and rolls his eyes.

Yoongi had been yelling at Jimin to get a move on for thirty-five minutes and he was still locked up in his room, only laughing every time his boyfriend called for him.

Seokjin had long since given up on his roommate and opted to sit in the car, and Jungkook was beginning to think about doing the same. He wasn’t prepared to face a soft, completely smitten Yoongi whenever Jimin would eventually emerge from his room. Hearing his housemate gush over his boyfriend every day was enough, but actually having to witness that shit? He’d rather pass.

With this thought in mind he makes his way out of the apartment and towards Yoongi’s rented car. When he pulls open the door, he’s greeted by Hoseok and Taehyung, claiming either window side of the middle seats. Seokjin and Namjoon sit at the back, both occupied by their phones.

Jungkook manages to climb over Taehyung to get to his boyfriend at the back, flopping into his lap and burying his nose into his neck. Seokjin doesn’t seem fazed as he rubs his free hand into the younger’s scalp, massaging it. Jungkook almost purrs at the feeling of contentment he receives.

“Are those two still having their screaming match?” Seokjin asks gently.

Jungkook laughs softly,

“More of a one-sided screaming from Yoongi hyung. I don’t know why he yells so much, when it’s obvious he’d happily wait three decades for his boyfriend.”

Seokjin laughs, pocketing his phone and turning his full attention to the boy in his lap.

“That’s just the way Min Yoongi shows his love,” he says, then gently presses a kiss to Jungkook’s nose. Jungkook’s smile widens, and he leans up to press a kiss to the elder’s mouth, that doesn’t last as long as they’d like because they’re both smiling too much for it to be anything less than a mess of teeth and stretched lips.

“Okay, seat belts.” Yoongi’s voice startles Jungkook. He hadn’t even noticed Jimin and Yoongi getting into the front seats of the car. He attempts to cower lower into his boyfriend’s lap, and he really thinks he’s getting away with it until-

“Jungkook. Get in your seat.”

Jungkook sighs,

“Hyung. I am in my seat.”

“Get in your proper seat.”

“But hyung. This is where I belong.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and turns around.

“Jeon Jungkook,” He starts. “I love you, I really do. But I’m not willing to get my license suspended because of you.”

A small whine comes from the passenger seat, and it’s obviously Jimin and his praise kink being crushed because- Yoongi? Professing his love for someone other than him? Not in this economy.

“Not like I love you,” Yoongi says softly, and there’s nothing but adoration in his eyes when he presses a kiss to the younger’s temple.

When he pulls back, his eyes lock with Jungkook’s once again.

“Kook. Move. Now.”

Jungkook opens his mouth in protest, but there’s a finger tapping his hipbone instead,

“Go on,” Seokjin says softly, and that’s all it takes for Jungkook to scramble over the seats once again and squish himself in between Taehyung and Hoseok.

---

Jungkook is young. A young mind in a young body, a young head on young shoulders. No matter how hard he tries, at this certain stage in life, he’s young. He knows no matter how much rent he pays, how much early morning coffee he drinks, how much he stresses over his workload, his mind is set into that of an adolescent. And until he’s passed this stage in life, until this certain phase is over, he’s not growing up.

And usually, this is okay. He doesn’t mind his friends doting on him, revels in it actually, doesn’t mind his boyfriend calling him baby more often than he calls him by his own name. He can even take the you’re too young to understands he hears from people who are simply a year or so older than him. But this- this devastation of independence that comes with growing up, the daunting idea of being alone and responsible, that’s what scares him.

Because independence is the biggest part of growth, except it doesn’t come all of a sudden. It starts from the nights your parents stop carrying you upstairs, and hits harshly when your family have to call to hear your voice.

Jungkook doesn’t ever think he’ll get used to it. Doesn’t ever think he’ll be able to live alone, as a responsible adult, pay bills and do grocery shopping without someone reminding him about it. His housemate, Yoongi, is the most responsible from their group of friends and Jungkook couldn’t be more glad that the older still views him as a literal child, and offers to do all the ‘adulting’ in their shared apartment. But he misses his parents. Misses home. Misses the feeling of his hometown, Busan beaches and South-eastern sand. He loves Seoul, loves the memories he’s made here, but even a King living within the finest riches misses his prince days.

And on certain days, the longing to return is greater, the yearning larger, and the hallow feeling of loneliness, just a bit deeper. It slaps him in the face when he’s alone, Yoongi’s out, won’t be home till late, won’t be home to witness the aftermath of Jungkook’s breakdown.

There’s a gap, between the ottoman and the coffee table where Jungkook fits easily, slides into it and lets the tears flow like the ripples of Han River. He’s not a pretty crier, doesn’t know how to stop once it starts, but he’s silent, sniffles and whimpers muffled into the sleeves of his big hoodie, soaking through the cotton. He pays no notice to these minor details, mind foggy with the image of his family, a whole three hour train journey away. He thinks about familiar smells, kitchen cooking and childhood memories. A house in which his youth was born, sprouted and never really left. A garden, not big, but stretched enough for him to throw tennis balls against the wooden fence; enough to coax complaints out of the neighbours. He thinks about his scolding parents, and the extents he’d go to to hear those familiar scolds again.

“Jungkookie?” The voice is soft, whispered into the thick air, and Jungkook is surprised it reaches him. But there’s one sound, the voice of one person that would most likely reach him no matter the situation.

“Hyung,” He whimpers out, and Seokjin is there in an instant. The gap shouldn’t be big enough for the both of them, but it is, arms wrapped tight around his middle as his face is pushed against a sturdy chest, small shh noises pressed into his ear.

“What is it?” His boyfriend whispers delicately, and Jungkook traps his shirt against his fingers, clutching tightly, like a lifeline he fears might slip away too easily,

“I miss home.” He mutters, “Miss my family. Miss being a kid.”

“Oh, baby,” Seokjin’s voice leaks with sympathy, a hand carding through the younger’s hair, in hopes of calming him down, holding him as tightly as possible, making sure he knows. Knows that Busan is two and a half hours away, along with his parents and childhood home, his youthful memories and high school friends, but here’s Seokjin- trying to make him a whole new house, a place of temporary comfort whilst the permanent one is too far to reach.

“I’m here,” The elder whispers, words failing to portray the thoughts he wishes he could say, “And I’m always going to be just here.”

Jungkook sighs against him, dragging his sleeve against his cheeks, wiping feebly at tears that no longer fall. Because home is far. Home is two and a half hours away, and home won’t come running when he misses it, when he needs it most. But here, in his boyfriend’s arms, with the feeling of content washing over him, he realises that sometimes a second home can be acquired in the form of a person. And his person isn’t leaving.

A/N- Thank you for reading, feel free to leave feedback. Also, prompts are open!

#jinkook #jinkook fic #jinkook fics #bts fic #bts fics

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theliterateape · 5 years

Text

Evil Roots

By Brett Dworski

LIAM OPENED HIS EYES AND JOLTED UPWARD AS IF HE’D BEEN ELECTROCUTED. Bridget, standing beside the king-sized bed, shook him like he was a salad that needed more dressing. Liam winced in pain — Bridget wasn’t helping his shoulder arthritis. He looked at his wife: her grey hair blended with the white concrete wall behind her, and her green nightgown — a massive tank top that covered her naked body — blurred against her pale skin as if he were gazing into a kaleidoscope.

Liam reached to his nightstand for his bifocals. He put them on and glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty in the morning. He faintly saw his reflection behind the numbers on the beaming digital screen: his eyes were baggy — his olive skin appeared more wrinkly than usual — and the white skin tag underneath his grey cowlick protruded. The room was dark, but the glistening white walls provided just enough glow that he could see Bridget. Her eyes were wide and filled with terror.

“Liam, get up,” she said. There was a shrill fear in her voice.

He couldn’t hear her. About a month ago, he started wearing earplugs to bed to eliminate Bridget’s late-night Sex & The City marathons — Liam hates Sarah Jessica Parker. He hates her so much that he always says that “Ferris would’ve been better off screwing Rooney,” whenever Bridget watched her favorite show. The sound of Carrie Bradshaw’s voice alone made Liam want to cut his nuts off.

But not tonight. Tonight, the earplugs had been a success. Liam removed them at once.

“Jesus Christ, Bridget!” Liam snarked. It had been a few weeks since he’d shaved, and he felt the tips of his grey mustache hovering his top lip. “What’s goi—

“Shhh!” Bridget whispered as she placed her hand over Liam’s mouth. “I think there’s someone in the house!”

There it was again — the sound of glass shattering on the hardwood kitchen floor downstairs. The sound that woke Bridget from her dream of dancing with Ricky Martin on Dancing with the Stars. The duo had just finished their routine to Stevie Wonder’s, “Don’t You Worry ‘bout a Thing,” and the crowd was going nuts. The judges awarded them a score of twenty-eight: Tens from Bruno Tonioli and Len Goodman, and an eight from Carrie Anne Inaba — that cunt, Bridget thought.

Liam was wide awake now. He hopped out of bed faster than a landscaper would when the husband of the woman he’s fucking barges home. Liam’s bedhead resembled Albert Einstein, and he would have been naked if it weren’t for his tighty-whities. The hardwood felt like ice on the bottom of his bare feet and his nipples grew erect — Bridget kept the thermostat at sixty-two degrees every night, which Liam hated. He preferred a tepid seventy-one.

But right now, Liam didn’t care if his home felt like a Slavic bathhouse or a freshly chilled morgue. His gaze was fixated on the seven-foot-tall wooden cabinet across the room.

“Call 911,” Liam said.

“Shit. My phone’s in my purse in the kitchen,” Bridget said. I’ll try the house phone.” She snatched the dusty landline from her nightstand and held it up to her ear. “The line’s dead!”

Without responding to his wife, Liam slowly opened the cabinet to diminish any creaking that could attract attention. He threw aside six freshly folded white t-shirts that laid atop a black shoebox. He grabbed the shoebox and threw the lid aside. There it was, all shiny and spiffed, barely a scratch on it: The Colt 1851 Navy Revolver his brother Mason had gifted him for his sixtieth birthday. Liam and Mason were regulars at the Dorchester shooting range during their twenties, but Liam hadn’t shot a gun since. Not even this one — Bridget wouldn’t allow it. Liam kept the loaded revolver stashed in the bedroom cabinet in case of emergencies. He snagged the pistol and crept toward his bedroom door without closing the cabinet. He turned to his wife, but before he could say anything…

Crash!

The sound of more shattered glass sprung to the bedroom. Bridget threw the covers over her torso and wept.

“Stay here. Don’t make a sound,” Liam demanded. He meant business when he pointed his index finger.

Liam opened the bedroom door and slid into the upstairs hallway as Bridget’s sobbing faded into the night. He crept across the hall, tip-toeing on the icy hardwood, terrified that whoever was downstairs would hear the floors creak. His nipples had softened by now, but his feet were still freezing.

Liam didn’t care if his home felt like a Slavic bathhouse or a freshly chilled morgue.

To his left was a twenty-foot wall that friends and family called the “O’Brien timeline.” Photographs of Liam and Bridget and their children — ranging from a teenage Liam working construction in 1968 and Bridget riding the New York subway in 1972 to their son, Jack, graduating from Boston College in 1998 and their daughter, Abigale, starring in a rendition of Fidler on the Roof in 2001 — have been scattered over the white concrete for nearly three decades. The kids were long gone — Jack lives in Cincinnati and Abigale in New York — and their bedrooms, once full of posters and speakers and dirty laundry, were now bare-walled guest rooms the end of the hallway.

Liam held the gun like a trained soldier ready to burst through an insurgent’s front door. He’d never been in a situation like this before, but always envisioned himself looking like Harry Callahan if he ever needed to be. God, he loved Dirty Harry.

Liam approached his son’s former bedroom and quickly glanced inside. He remembered the twelve-by-twelve-foot room as if Jack were still in high school: the Larry Bird and AC/DC posters covering the walls; the blue dresser that held the Sony boom-box that Jack always blasted when Abigale was rehearsing her lines in the room next door; the stack of CDs and DVDs, featuring Back In Black; The Godfather, and a photograph of Jack and Liam after they went bungee jumping during the family trip to Costa Rica in ’94.

Crash! More shattering glass. Clunk! It sounded like the wooden drawers in the kitchen had been jerked open, too. Liam snapped out of his haze and lurked to the stairs, now nearing the end of the massive hallway. The hardwood floors squeaked even louder.

He passed Abigale’s old room and briefly glanced in without stopping, catching shades of the neon pink carpet from the corner of his eye. He remembered his daughter’s olive skin and brown hair — a rarity for Irish Catholics — which came from his genes. He remembered her passion for performance since her middle school role in the Wizard of Oz. He remembered when Abigale told himself and Bridget that she was a lesbian when she was seventeen. And he remembered when she introduced her parents to her girlfriend — now wife — three years later.

Boom!

Something big had hit the floor. It sounded like the seventy-five-pound metal safe Liam kept hidden behind the trashcan underneath the sink. “Who’d ever look there?” he thought when he placed it there two years ago.

Liam snapped out of it, and for real this time. He no longer cared about stealthily approaching his enemy like a ninja. He wanted to catch the sonofabitch in his house.

Liam bolted down the stairs, aware of whoever was in his kitchen would hear his quick, thunderous steps. He raced to the bottom floor and darted past the coat closet and laundry room. He approached the kitchen, where he saw the insurgent from behind. The broad shoulders let Liam know he was dealing with a man, probably bigger than himself. His black turtle neck, black jeans, and black combat boots camouflaged him with the night. He was bent over rummaging through the safe he’d just busted open, Liam assumed.

Liam scanned the kitchen. Glass was shattered everywhere, from the floors to atop the stove to around the dinner table. Every drawer was open, and random papers — likely Bridget’s phone numbers and random bills from over the years — mingled with the broken glass. He aimed the pistol at the invader.

“Turn around, punk!” he demanded.

Now he really felt like Dirty Harry.

The man put his hands in the air and made a one-eighty. His red hair, red beard and ghostly complexion reminded Liam of Ron Howard before he went bald.

“Where is it, Liam?” the man said in a subtle, unsettling tone.

Liam’s face stiffened. He had no idea who this man was or how he knew his name.

“Where’s what?” Liam frustratingly asked. “Who are you?”

“You know what I want, you little shit,” the man said. “Your father stole it from me, and I want it back.”

Liam tightened his grip on the pistol, still squeezing it with both hands.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Liam screamed.

The perp chuckled and grinned like a madman. The smirk reminded Liam of the way Jack Torrence looked when he tried to chop his family to pieces at the Overlook Hotel. Liam noticed the black hole in the man’s mouth: He was missing an incisor.

“You were always my favorite nephew, Liam,” the perp said. “And I want my goddamn tooth.”

Liam’s jaw dropped to the floor. His legs instantly felt like Jell-O beneath him. He felt sick, like he was going to projectile all over the hardwood. Liam did know this man and he knew what he wanted — it hit him in like a punch to the solar plexus. He was Finn O’Brien, Liam’s uncle who died in 1971. He must have been resurrected in another man’s body, because it didn’t even look like Uncle Finn, whose blonde hair and tan complexion resembled a young Robert Redford. Liam knew it was impossible, and even considered that he may be losing his mind, but he couldn’t ignore what the man had just said. It had to be his uncle.

Liam couldn’t speak. Fear had absorbed his body, and he trembled from hand to toe. The memories all came back to him, like when he passed his children’s old bedrooms. The memories of his Uncle Finn and the tragedy that was his life.

He snagged the pliers and jumped on top of Liam, pressing his knees onto his shoulders and pinning him to floor.

Uncle Finn was the older brother of Liam’s father, Oscar. The two were inseparable from their youth until their mother, Liam’s grandmother, died. Finn and Oscar had gotten heated over her will; she’d left her diamond wedding ring for her grandchildren, but she never said who. Finn wanted the ring for his daughter, Sheila, while Oscar wanted it for Liam’s future bride. What started out as a typical back-and-forth surged into each brother claiming they were the favorite child, ending with Oscar scolding his brother by telling him he should have never been born.

That was the last time Finn and Oscar spoke. A year later, Finn was killed in a vicious car wreck. He’d been drinking late, as usual, and was speeding down Wolf Island Road at 2 a.m. He crashed into a stoplight and burst through the windshield shattering his skull and vertebrae on impact. The autopsy suggested Finn somehow survived the initial blow and lay in the grass beyond the stoplight, paralyzed and brain damaged like a vegetable, for nearly an hour before he perished. Uncle Finn suffered to his last breath, likely hoping a passing driver would see him and call for help. None did.

Liam, who was eighteen at the time, remembered two things from that night: the phone ringing and his mother screaming.

The next day, a guilt-ridden Oscar made the hour-long drive from Dorchester to Mattapoisett to check out the scene of the crash. The street was already clean. No blood on the road, no windshield glass, not even a tire mark to show what had happened. A damaged stoplight was the only evidence. Right as Oscar was about to leave, he noticed a white, pea-sized object on the concrete. It was a tooth — roots still intact and specs of blood on the enamel. Oscar took it home and placed it in a jewelry box — the kind most would find a wedding ring in — and kept it sealed away for decades, only showing Liam and Mason right after the accident. When Oscar died forty years later, Liam took the box and placed it in his father’s casket, so the brothers could lie beside each other forever.

Now, forty-four years after his death, Uncle Finn had returned to claim what was his.

“I knew Oscar took it after my accident — that prick just wanted something to remind himself that he’d won,” Uncle Finn said. “But I want it back!”

“Uncle Finn,” Liam stammered, the gun trembling in his hands. “I d…d…don’t have your tooth. I p…p…put it in Pop’s coffin when he passed, so you two would be toge—"

“Shut up, you rat bastard! The last thing I’d want is to lay beside your old man forever. He knew he was better than me from the day he was born. Your grandparents looked at him like he was the second coming of Jesus, and they looked at me like I was a fucking leprechaun.”

“B…but you two were so close!”

“That’s what your dad and everyone else thought. I put on a show to act all bubbly toward your pops, but truth was, I despised him. I hated every ounce of him. And I even tried to kill him — more than once. Did he ever tell you about the time he almost drowned in the Charles River when he was four? That was me — I held him underwater while we were swimming. He would’ve been a goner if your grandparents hadn’t come back from their stroll on the beach right as his torso fell limp. Told them the undercurrent got him and I saved him. Your old man lost so much oxygen while under, he didn’t remember a fuckin’ thing. Or how about when your dad and I were window washers for the city in ’46, and he fell six flights to the ground? Only broke his leg — lucky sonofabitch. He sued the city for providing a faulty harness, but it was fine before I cut one of the straps.”

Liam couldn’t feel his hands — he couldn’t feel anything — and dropped the pistol. He began to cry. He cried like a little boy who’d gotten lost in a supermarket or who cut his knee while riding his bike. He cried for his father, who’d been deceived his entire life by his best friend.

Uncle Finn stepped toward Liam. The glass and paper crunched beneath his muddy combat boots.

“And now I’m here to get what’s mine.”

Crunch!

“I don’t have it, Uncle Finn!” Liam sobbed.

Crunch!

Uncle Finn pulled a pair of pliers from his back pocket — likely the ones Liam kept in the drawer next to the fridge — and now stood inches from his nephew. “Then I’ll take one of yours!”

Uncle Finn raised his hand and plunged the pliers toward Liam’s mouth. Liam reacted fast and slapped Finn’s hand away, sending the pliers to the floor. Liam reached down for the revolver, but his face met Uncle Finn’s thrusting knee instead, which jolted Liam down on his back. He felt a sharp, throbbing pain in his nose: the bridge was dented and crooked. Blood covered the lower half of his face and gushed down his chin. Uncle Finn kicked the revolver to the other side of the kitchen far from Liam’s reach. He snagged the pliers and jumped on top of Liam, pressing his knees onto his shoulders and pinning him to floor.

Liam’s weeping turned into a violent scream for help. He tried calling for Bridget, but he couldn’t. His voice was caught in his throat, as if his vocal cords had been ripped out, and the harder he tried to yell, the quieter he became.

“Daddy’s not here to help you, is he Liam?” Uncle Finn said.

He held the pliers in one hand and stretched Liam’s mouth open with the other. Liam fought back — he flailed like a fish on the floor of a rowboat — and dug his fingertips into Uncle Finn’s face, scratching his cheek. Specs of blood and red beard hair crawled into Liam’s fingernails. Uncle Finn smacked Liam’s hand away and regained control. He pinned his knees into Liam’s chest even harder. He raised his arm.

“For your father!” Uncle Finn said.

Uncle Finn drove the pliers past Liam’s lips, grabbed his top incisor and gave it a couple yanks. It wouldn’t give. He tugged again, this time adding a twist. The tooth snapped from Liam’s gums in one piece, roots and all. Blood sprayed at Uncle Finn like he’d popped a Champagne bottle full of it, and Liam’s flailing became a convulsion. Liam maneuvered his tongue to the gaping hole in his mouth and felt the fleshy tissue dangling. It tasted like metal. Then he passed out. Maybe he was in shock or maybe it was from the pain, but his body deflated the way a balloon does when the air is slowly released from the valve.

His mind drifted to the fall of ’67 when he, his father, Mason and Uncle Finn got tickets to Game 6 of the World Series. The Red Sox blistered the St. Louis Cardinals, scoring four runs in the bottom of the seventh and winning 8–4. Liam and Mason went ballistic when Carl Yastrzemski hopped into the stands after the game to sign autographs.

“Finny, take a picture of me and my boys with Yaz,” Liam remembers his father saying. “And make sure you hold the click down long enough — you fucked it up last time, remember?”

Uncle Finn happily took the picture, but Liam’s memory zeroed in on his uncle’s face the second after the snapshot. Finn glared at Oscar — eyes narrow and biting his bottom lip, like he wanted to pounce him. Like he hated him.

Liam opened his eyes. Uncle Finn was still on top of him, and three more of his teeth had been yanked from the front of his mouth. The seeping blood from his nose and mouth formed a pool on his bare chest, and he felt queasy. Uncle Finn gazed into Liam’s eyes and raised his arm again, ready to jam the tweezers into his nephew for a fourth time.

“Okay, Liam, all set,” Uncle Finn said. “Now, check out with Rosie at the front desk. She’ll take care of you.”

Liam’s eyebrows rose in confusion.

“You okay, Liam?” Uncle Finn asked. Liam shut his eyes again. When he opened them, he realized he wasn’t in his kitchen. He wasn’t even at home. He no longer lay on the hardwood floor, but in a reclining blue chair. A bright light beamed overhead, and Uncle Finn stood over him in a blue gown and a surgical mask. “There you are! Sorry, I know the anesthesia can send you into a haze. But it’s much better than not having it when getting a root canal.”

Liam felt his teeth with his tongue: thirty-two for thirty-two. The softness of his dangling gums had been replaced with his tooth.

“I guess so,” Liam mumbled.

He stood up and shook hands with Dr. Huff. The man’s red hair, red beard and ghostly white skin looked all too familiar.

“Thanks, Doc,” Liam said.

“Don’t mention it, Liam. Call me if you have any problems!”

Liam entered the waiting room. Bridget was reading an issue of Cosmopolitan — one with Sarah Jessica Parker on the cover. She stood up.

“You all right?” she asked. “The hygienist said you dozed off for a sec.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “Just dizzy.”

Bridget held Liam’s hand and kissed the back of his palm. Her eyes fixated on his nails. “Liam, what happened to your fingers?” she asked.

Liam looked at his hand: His fingernails were covered in dried blood and bristly red hairs. He glanced back toward the treatment room. Dr. Huff was staring at him, grinning like a madman — that same kind of hellish grin that sent shivers down Liam’s spine.

Suddenly, Liam’s head exploded. It’s as if a grenade was placed in his skull and the pin dropped out. Bloody pieces of his brain shot to every corner of the room and all over Bridget, whose screams echoed and racketed throughout the entire high-rise building. Liam’s headless body flopped onto the gray carpet and twitched spastically as the nerves played out their final ballet. Bridget’s violent scream turned into a horrific sob, and she lay on top of her dead husband, blanketing herself over his body, covered in his blood.

✶

“LIAM! LIAM! WAKE UP!”

Liam opened his eyes and jolted upward as if he’d been electrocuted. Bridget was shaking him again.

“Liam, you were having a nightmare,” she said.

Liam could barely see, and to make things worse, had slobs of yellow crust at the inside corner of each eye. He put on his bifocals: it was nine-thirty in the morning. He held his hands to his face. His nails were clean. He took a deep breath. He sighed relief.

“Is today Saturday?” he asked.

“Yep, so you better get out of bed — your crown appointment with Dr. Huff is at eleven.

Liam looked straight ahead at the television in front of the bed. Carried Bradshaw was venting to her girlfriends about why her relationship with Aiden didn’t work out.

Liam chuckled.

“On second thought, what’s your sister’s dentist … what’s his name … Doctor Steinfeld up to these days?”

#Chicago Fiction #Fiction #Brett Dworski Fiction #Chicago Short Story #short story

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