#but i have drawn those eyelids so many times I am in SHOCK | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarcastically-defensive17 · 3 years

Note

Hello lovelyyy! Could i request a Billy imagine? He makes fun of the reader after hooking up with her at a party and she just playa along for the sake of his reputation but it hurts her a lot. He finds her and apologizes and its all really angsty with a happy ending??✨

Facades - B. Hargrove

I love this req so so so so so so much and I am so sorry I took so long to complete it! If you hate it then I am so so sorry and I hope you let me know so i can send you pictures of baby otters to apologise!

I really hope you like it!!

TW: THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF BULLYING, SEXUAL REFERENCES, SWEARING, BRIEF ALLUSIONS TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE / PARENTAL ABUSE, BILLY BEING A BIT OF A MYSOGINISTIC PRAT, Y/N STANDING UP FOR THE LITTLE PEEPS AND BEING A QUEEN AND MENTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL STARING AT INTIMATE BODY PARTS.

IF THIS CONTENT CAN POTENTIALLY TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ. YOUR OWN MENBTAL AND PHSYICAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT, SO PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN.

Original Story by defensive_sarcasm17.

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner that removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing is not cool, my loves.

Billy Hargrove was an asshole.

Not just your regular asshole, but the kind that knew he was an asshole and allowed his severe longing for attention to control his every action. Whether positive or negative attention, he craved it; he reveled in it.

He knew it was wrong, but simply knowing he was on somebody’s mind in any way filled him with a sense of pride. It disgusted him but the thrill was far too addictive.

And there was sweet Y/N. Anybody could tell that she didn’t fit in. She walked - no, she strut - to the beat of her own drum. The minute he arrived she caught his attention. He had never before witnessed how somebody could be so unique and beautiful, yet remain on the outside. She was a fascinating creature and he hadn’t before felt such an intense desire to get to know somebody.

She was so different to so many people, both in personality and appearance, yet she took care to avoid bringing others down. Her first interaction with him was her reprimanding him for speaking ill of another girl in their grade with his friends. She had overheard the conversation that occurred near to her locker and made sure to discuss it with him away from his friends.

The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him and herself, but she also needed to tell him that his behaviour was unacceptable. He made more of an effort to watch his tongue after that, but old habits die hard and he quickly resorted back to being an ill-mannered asshole.

Just... never to her.

Nevertheless, he was still drawn to her. Their relationship evolved, a few sneaky kisses, hanging out outside of the arcade, or the cinema, or even the one time that Billy was eating at the diner and Y/N took a seat across from him just to babble about some new thing she was doing. If she was anybody else, Billy would have told her to take a hike, but instead, he clung to every word she told.

What Y/N didn’t know, though, was that she had become a butt of some jokes amongst Billy’s friends. Her kind, bubbly personality, her eyes that were often wide in energetic glee, the way she held a cheesy smile on her lips whenever she passed Billy in the hall.

To her it was normal. Never in her the lengths of her imagination would she conclude that the way she behaved would spur other people - people that she has grown alongside - to ridicule and tease her behind her back.

So she continued on in blissful nativity, even going as far as spending a night with the brutish boy - cuddled together, fumbling blindly amongst the rumpled sheets of her double bed. What started as a meaningless conversation at one of the many parties ended in one of the best nights that either had experienced.

She was entirely enamored by him, forming an intense and strong connection with the way he would present himself to her. She quite enjoyed the Jekyll within him.

The euphoria that he felt in her presence wouldn’t fade away like it normally did, even as he took his leave from her.

But when Billy was seen by Y/N’s neighbour, Angela, leaving her house early in the morn, the news circulated with the intensity of a swarm of angry locusts amongst the school.

And when Billy turned up to school late the next day, after a long and enjoyable farewell with Y/N and a quick stop at his own abode to change and freshen up, he was hounded the minute he approached his friends in the cafeteria.

“Please for the love of all that is cool in this world, tell me you didn’t hook up with freaky Y/N,” Tommy blurted in front of almost the entire cafeteria. The frown on Billy’s face did nothing to deter the boy, and from the corner of his eye he could see Y/N still as a statue as she felt most eyes turn towards her. Her tray was clasped between her fingers and she struggled to shift her features away from shock. “I mean, look at her,” he raised a hand as if he intended to whisper, yet the silence of the room ensured everybody heard, “You’d get more satisfaction out of a bean bag chair. She’s a dork.”

In that moment, he had two options: stick up for Y/N and confess to the growing admiration he harbored for her in front of everybody, and remove the cloud of admiration he received from many women and men alike; or do what billy does best-

“Please, I won’t put my dick just anywhere, willingly,” he scoffed, avoiding the burning gaze from the girl. His stormy blue eyes hid the flurry of his neurons, all of them working overtime to one up with an excuse, an answer, anything to avoid judgement from his peers. “She ended up with my jacket at the end of the night and there was no way I was letting her keep it.”

Tommy had an evil smirk on his face, turning his gaze towards Y/N and eyeing her in a grotesque way. His eyes linger on her chest for longer than she deemed comfortable before he snapped back to Billy. “Figured as much, but, we’ve all seen the way the freak looks at you. Even now, she can’t keep her eyes off of you.”

More sniggers erupted throughout the room. Y/N placed her tray down carefully, planning to leave the room as fast as she could, but she stopped when she saw Tommy crook a finger at her. He beckoned her closer, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a mouse.

“Is she dumb?” Tommy grunted as he nudged Billy’s shoulder with his own. “Come here, freaky!” Some chatter resumed in the room, but all eyes were still on her. She slowly stepped towards their table, crossing the few meters difference as slow as she could.

A chuckle left Billy, but he had forced it from his chest. His mind was going through many scenarios in which he could hurt Tommy, his favourite settling on stabbing him in the hand with one of the cafeteria forks followed by a severe pummeling to the face, but the eyes on him sent his adrenaline spiking. He felt horrible about speaking so badly of Y/N, but everybody had their attention focused on him. He was making people laugh, gasp, grumble even. He saw the girls at the table next to them get closer, winking at him and whispering along themselves about Y/N.

It was intoxicating.

“Tell us, freaky,” Tommy drawled, a sinister smirk forming in his thin and cracked lips. “You’re just obsessed with my man, Billy, here. Aren’t you?” Billy didn’t meet her eyes, and she knew - she just knew - that he didn’t enjoy what was happening, but she figured he would have the decency to stop it from continuing.

She had seen many sides of Billy, including the menacing, careless, boarding-on-sociopathic side, but she had managed to convince herself that she was immune to the abuse that tumbled from his lips. Y/N was already scolding herself inside her mind for thinking such discrepancies.

“Look at her, Billy. She can’t even speak!” Billy felt Tommy shove his shoulder with the palm of his hand, dropping the appendage quickly when he noticed the glare Billy shot him. His face paled slightly before the arrogance returned and the smirk resurfaced when his gaze shifted back to Y/N.

She hadn’t moved, her eyes locked on Billy. In those situations, Y/N knew her tear ducts were far to close to her eyelids, often spilling over at the any confrontation. She shied away from it, knowing that it often resulted in heartache and misfortune - but this time she felt anger. She just wasn’t quite sure if the anger was directed at herself or Billy.

Maybe both.

To add fuel to the flame, Billy turned his steely cerulean eyes towards her, raking them along the length of her body before he decided to open his mouth once again.

“Do i make you speechless?” his voice was sultry, warm, juxtaposing with the chill that ran down her spine at the audition.

It took her back to the previous night when he whispered sweet nothings against her skin. But she knew this was not the same Billy. This was the Billy that he would show to everyone. Everyone but her.

This was his Hyde, and she despised it. This was far from her Billy, but she knew how much his reputation meant to him.

He held her gaze strongly, but she could see something else in his expression. He was hoping that she would stay quiet, retreat from any chance of spilling his secret to the entire cafeteria, but part of his mind was telling him that he deserved her to speak the truth.

“I can’t help it, Billy,” she mumbled, hoping that a confession would make everything end. Her face was stoic, jaw set in a tight clench, only relenting to let the words slip out. To the rest of the cafeteria, it would portray as nerves and embarrassment, but to Billy - he knew that something had definitely changed in the usual mild-mannered, kind-hearted woman. Shame was running through her head at an alarming rate, mixed with embarrassment and cut with a growing anger. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long. It’s hard to deny how i feel about you.”

The words hit him like a speeding truck. Despite their activities, she had never once given him an indication for the depth of her feelings, nor had he for her. He had came to the conclusion that she simply knew of his emotions without the audition of them - he treated her so differently, he thought.

Nevertheless, he wanted to believe that her words were the truth, but the fire blazing in her beautiful eyes set his skin alight and had his heart pounding against his ribcage with guilt. She was Y/N. She was kind, she knew him. She knew how much he craved the satisfaction of being on somebody’s mind as if he could sense that he held somebody’s attention.

He knew she did it to help him, and he was somewhat grateful underneath the growing guilt.

“Wow,” Tommy breathed. His face held a look of astonishment, but once again he returned to his stock standard expression. “What an absolute spaz!”

Billy found himself nodding along to avoid the heat-filled stare, swallowing the lump of bile rising in his throat, “Why is it that all the dorks think they have a chance with me? I must have a wannabe-magnet that makes them all hot for me,” his cackle was filled with faux-malice, but the students were none the wiser. His thoughts were roaming around his head, moving faster than he was sure his brainwaves could manage.

He barely noticed when a feminine voice hit his ears and said something about Y/N needing to cool off before pouring a drink over her head. The red liquid was already beginning to stain her shirt and her hair was pushed to the front of her face.

“There you go,” Carol - the girl that had Tommy wrapped so tightly around her little finger that she has a circulation issue - had been the one to spill the liquid over her head. The smile on Carol’s face was dripping with sugar, but Billy knew that it was actually salt.“The red makes you look less like an ugly cow.”

A gasp left her lips, her eyes closing quickly. Y/N knew that the tip of the iceberg was approaching. Everybody has the point in their anger when they hit a point of hypersensitivity. Their body struggling to find a way to release the pent up friction in anyway, and it chooses to take the route of tears.

When she opened her eyes they had already began to blur with tears, yet she could still make out Billy’s figure, but she didn’t stay long enough to hear their taunts any longer. Her feet carried her to her car at a steady pace, where she finally allowed the emotion to escape in any way it pleased.

<><><><><>

He had expected to see her in their next class. Her presence was the only think that kept him from flipping out during their history class. Mr Daniels, the balding, narcissistic, middle-aged douche bag, had it out for him. Billy had often joked that it was because of the hair - pure jealousy, he said. The mere sight of Y/N’s profile managed to keep him occupied, his mind running wild with thoughts of the woman.

But when he had noticed she wasn’t there, all resolve had fled his body as his body fled the school. He had been trying to reach her since he had left, the pay phone on the corner of the block had his attention for nearly an hour, all of his change spent dialing her number over and over again with the same result.

The guilt was eating away at him, shame creeping up his spine.

He was an asshole. Plain and simple.

He had spent nearly his entire wallet on the pay phone, growing more frustrated by the minute. If she were home, she would answer. She always did. She was too kind to ignore a call. Hell, she even stayed on the line with telemarketers until they stopped talking for long enough for her to apologise and bid them goodbye.

The mere thought had him slumping his forehead against the receiver of the phone. His patience had worn thin and he cursed under his breath as he reefed his keys from his pocket and set off towards his blue camaro.

He needed to see her. The image of tears running down her cheek was burned into his mind, occupying all of his thoughts as his subconscious mapped out the route to her house. He had only been there once, maybe twice after dropping her home one afternoon, but he had the way etched into his hippocampus alongside many things about Y/N.

He had barely pulled in to the curb before he shut down the engine and stomped to her door.

His knuckles were rapping on the door before he knew it.

He knocked again, and once more. But no answer. Her car was parked in the drive way, he knew she was home. He picked up on the faint sound of music playing, some indie band that she was fond of. Not Billy’s taste.

“Y/N?” He called, fighting the lump that had swollen in his throat. “Y/N, please, I need to talk to you!”

The door opened slightly, just enough for Y/N to stare at him with innocent eyes full of shame before the chain stopped it from advancing further.

“I think you’ve said enough, Billy,” her voice sounded broken. Shattered even.

Her hair was still saturated, the T-Shirt she wore was stained, and he faintly recognized it as one of her favourite articles. A from was deeply carved into her features and he had to restrain his mind from thinking about how she adorable she looks with a crease between her brows and a dimple forming on her chin with growing anger.

“Darling, please let me in. I need to talk to you about something,” he flashed a charming smile. His pink lips contrasted perfectly against his sun-kissed skin. He was a delectable sight and he knew so; he made sure to dress to impress on the daily. He craved the looks of lust and jealousy. Like neon straight into his awaiting veins, it was his drug. Even the way Y/N glared up at him made his ego hum, but his heart ached with the disappointment she showed. “What happened in the cafeteria... it’ll never happen again. I just, I couldn’t-“

The door abruptly slammed in his face silencing his words in an instant. He froze, the sound shaking his spine and clearing his train of thought, only for the sound of a chain clicking and the door reopening capture his attention back.

There she stood. Hair drenched beyond all hope, clothes stained a bright red, throwing off the aesthetic of her outfit for the day. Her makeup was smudged more than he originally thought, as if she had been furiously scrubbing at her eyes with her hands. His heart ached, but he couldn’t deny the excitement in his nerves when she gave him her full attention.

Her hand reached out to grab his shirt, pulling him inside faster than he thought possible.

“Couldn’t what?” She snapped at him, venom coating her words in a way that made him recoil. “Couldn’t resist making fun of me? Couldn’t resist having every single pair of eyes on you? Couldn’t resist taking the piss out of me, just like you have done for months?”

She wasn’t meant to know about that, he thought. She was meant to be none the wiser. His face paled, eliciting a dry laugh from her chest. She felt the pressure of the forced omission in her stomach, the muscles aching from the furious sobs that racked her frame moments before.

“All of this time, I was trying to be your friend, Billy! And you!” She waved her hand at him, pointing at him in a manner dripping with unbridled anger. “You were playing me for the fool! I’ve been the butt of all jokes between you and your asshole friends since the minute I opened my big mouth to talk to you, haven’t I?”

He knew he was in the wrong. He knew that he should have punched Tommy in the face for even bringing anything up in front of her. His friend had noticed that he had abruptly halted the jokes surrounding the girl in question, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the real reason why. He was falling head over heels, but he just didn’t know it yet.

Now he felt like his heart was ripping in two at the sight of her blotchy cheeks and red rimmed eyes, and he was the reason.

“It started as a joke, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you,” His voice was full of pain. Self-loathing. “Yeah, Tommy and I used to make fun of you for a while, but...” his words faded away.

The chuckle that left her lips this time was a hearty one, more like she was laughing at an actual joke than their humourless situation.

He didn’t realise how intently he was staring at her sock covered feet until he brought his eyes up to her face. She was genuinely laughing, but the tears that he didn’t realise were falling down her cheeks made his arms twitch from the need to hug her.

“My god,” she huffed, bringing her palms to her eyes and pressing hard, almost as if trying to hold her tears back. Her voice deceived her, and she sobbed for - what felt like - the millionth time that day. “I’m such an idiot.”

His hands connected with her shoulders and he brought her in against his chest. The hug was all he could do to comfort her, for he knew so little about his own emotions to even begin to understand another’s pain.

“Every time we spoke, every time we hung out together...” she pulled herself back from his chest. She couldn’t stand the contact that she craved so much, for she knew that it was unrequited. “Every time I kissed you.. last night. It was all bullshit!”

“Princess,” his own voice began to shake, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, “Every moment I have ever spent with you has been because I want to.”

She worked her hands into her now half-damp hair, pulling it back from her face in a tight grip, “Why? You and your friends needed some new material?” She released a heavy breath, her lips trembling. “Nancy told me about all of the jokes last week, yet I still went home with you last night. I still played along while the entire cafeteria stared me down because I know how much your reputation means to you. I know that I am at the very bottom of your priority list, Billy. Everything you do is for a purpose, and your purpose with me was just to make me feel worse than literally everybody in that school already does.”

He reached for her hand slowly, as if he were afraid she would pull away from him forever. He was never sure of his emotions, but this time, he knew that he would watch the world burn just to make her happy. He hated himself. He hated Tommy, and the girls that embarrassed her further. He hated Neil, and he hated his own narcissism. He hated the world for making such a beautiful soul so miserable, but he especially hated how he knew right from wrong and still chose the latter.

His fingers laced with hers, but her hand remained slack in his grip. It was better than nothing, he thought.

He cleared his throat, the organ feeling as stiff as a piece of cardboard, his mouth dry. The next words would be difficult, but they were honest. She deserved honesty.

“When I first met you, I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t really want to. You were kind and thoughtful and you pulled me aside to chew me out for talking shit about some girl, but you did it where you knew my friends wouldn’t hear, just so you could spare my reputation. For the first little while, yeah, we made jokes. I made fun of the weird way you dress and the horrible music you listen to, and how you are the nicest person I have ever met, but the it stopped. The things you did stopped being funny to me, and the way I felt when I was around you changed completely.”

“Billy, what are you talking about?” Her tear-filled eyes wrinkles, her brows furrowing deeply.

“Tommy and the rest of the assholes, they noticed that I didn’t want to talk shit about you, or that I didn’t like when they would talk about you in the way - in the way we talk about other girls. Its hypocritical, but they dropped it. Until today. All because Angela couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.” He caught the look that she sent him, frowning slightly. “Sorry. Because Angela told them that I left here this morning, and they wouldn’t shut their stupid mouths the minute they saw me. I told them that I had nothing to say about you, but they wanted answers and I said shit that I never wanted to say.”

She watched him intently. Tommy had made a lot of comments about her over the years she had known him. The other guys had too, but she did notice that they started backing off lately. She hadn’t paid much attention to the fact, secretly hoping that they had begun to mature, but to think that Billy made them stop - well she didn’t know what to think.

“Why did you make them stop?” her mind was running faster than her mouth, but she still couldn’t put it together. If Billy was anybody else, she would maybe think that he reciprocated the feelings she expressed for him in the cafeteria but he isn’t - he is Billy Hargrove, and he doesn’t have feelings for anybody.

He laughed for a second. A soft, disbelief fueled cough. His eyes seemed to shine bright in the dull lighting of her house. Neither of them had realised the time that has passed, it was now nearing the afternoon. He looked down at her, his stomach full to the brim with an odd sensation.

“You really don’t know?” he seemed to have stepped closer to her, only slightly. His shoulders were slightly shrunken in. She shook her head softly, the crease returning to between her eyebrows as she thought. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Never in his teenage life, had Billy feared rejection from a woman. His mother had given him all of the rejection he needed for a lifetime, but now, as he stared into Y/N’s eyes, his lungs seemed to constrict.

It was as if her world froze for a moment. Not only did Billy Hargrove, possibly her best and only friend, confess that he has feelings for her, but he said that he loved her. To say she was at a loss for words would be an understatement, but she stood in front of him gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing every time she wanted to say something.

“I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same,” He spoke, slightly lower than when he confessed to her. He turned away from her slightly, releasing her hand and using it to rub the back of his neck. His skin felt like it was aflame and he started to sweat. “I just wanted to let you know, especially after what happened today. I-I’m sorry for the shit I said, and I am gonna kick Tommy’s ass for this. And I’m sorry that you had to say that stuff today. I know that you just said it to help me, and I appreciate it but you didn’t have to -”

His words fell short when he felt arms wrap around his waist. It was a soft, slow gesture, new, but not entirely uncomfortable. If he had to put money on it, he would say that she could feel exactly how fast his heart is beating.

“Those things I said today, about my feelings for you...” she began, head pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, princess?”

“They were all true.” He pulled her back slightly to look at her. It was his turn to look confused. “Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, Billy. Being around you just makes my heart swell and everything better.”

His heart started to beat impossibly faster, but there was still hesitance in her voice. “I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t deal with this split-personality bullshit, Billy.” He had never heard her curse before. It was music to his ears, exciting, entrancing, but he also knew that she meant business. She was incredibly serious. “The person you are when you are around me, that is the guy I am obsessed with. Who you are when everybody else is around... I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that now, and I hated it.”

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry for that, I promise, I will be better. Even if you won’t have me, I will be better. For you.” His eyes held an honest strength. It was as if he were selling his soul to her, right there in her entry way, where they had stood since she wrenched the door open in a fury. “But, if you will have me, how about I take you out tomorrow night? If you don’t want to, then I understand.”

“I would love that,” she smiled up at him, the expression growing wider as a matching one took over his face.

He couldn’t help but lean forward slowly, giving her an opportunity to pull away. When their lips connected, he melted into the touch, moving with such intensity it was as if he were repeating his apology and his promise into the kiss.

She had never felt more wanted before, and he had never felt more safe.

When their lips parted she rested her forehead on his for a moment, basking in the silence and the ambiance that surrounded them.

But of course, Billy had to ruin it.

“So, you are obsessed with me, huh?” She could feel the smirk against her cheek as he nuzzled his nose into her temple.

She turned away from him so fast that the wet ends of her hair slapped his face.

“Where are you going, princess?” He followed after her, long strides catching up with her faster than she wanted.

“I’m going to have a shower. If you want to join me, you can leave that bad attitude at the door along with your shoes,” She sent him a sly wink, a smirk on the lips that Billy wanted to taste once again.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and his shoes went flying into the hallway.

TAG LIST:

@snookiebrookie @theanswertoeverythingisl0v3 @another-lonely-heart @starshonerose @mantlereid

If you want to join my tag list for billy or any other person/character I write for, let me know!!

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy is a prick #y/n is a boss #stranger things #steve harrington #Nancy wheeler #this is a mess but I hope you like it #Caz writes

266 notes · View notes

honey-makki · 4 years

Text

Firsts

Characters: Tsukishima Kei X Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate works in mysterious ways to bring people who are destined to be together, to actually be together.

Warnings: Sex!! blow jobs, face riding, virginity loss

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Well this started as a drabble request but here I am a week later with a 5k fic about it. Soft tsukki inbound. I hope you enjoy @salty4tsukki bc I def enjoyed writing this.

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

Being an only child is not a precursor to being lonely. Memories of family game nights, shared dinners and movies watched filled the air of your house letting you know that you were both never alone and, oh, so loved.

You knew that having as healthy a home environment was unusual and that it was part of the reason that you are so emotionally intelligent. Many of your peers couldn’t stand their parents and found every excuse to avoid being home. Sure, you and your parents had arguments about curfew or the number of texts you sent every month. The last argument happened every time you brought home a grade that was unsatisfactory, which wasn’t often, but consistent enough that it was a recurring problem.

“I’m just tired of them expecting me to be perfect! It’s unreasonable for them to expect perfect grades, being on a starter for the soccer team, and involved in other clubs! I’m only one person.” You ranted to Tsukki, sulking around his room before plopping on his bed, arms covering your sighing face. Tsukki was the only person you came to with family problems because you knew he would understand and not push you. The usually sassy boy always softened these days, knowing that this was the one thing that you couldn’t handle being teased about. Today, he looked at you with soft pity, knowing the amount of work you put towards everything just to be told it’s not enough.

“I could tutor you in English if you want? I know we have our usual pre-exam study sessions, but I really don’t mind making them more regular if you think they would help.” Tsukki might listen to you complain but he still isn’t the best at empathy, rather resorting to problem-solving. He showed his care and compassion to you subtly. Offering his solutions in a way you could make them sound like your own, knowing that provided a semblance of comfort. Allowing you into his room whenever you needed to complain and not questioning your feelings. Always offering you a hoodie or jacket when you were worn out from crying, knowing that the warmth would lull you into a much-needed sleep

You knew he cared about you. Yes, sometimes you over exaggerated your feelings to take advantage of that, but only because you wanted his jacket on your body. The thought that it was his arms rather than just a Tsukki scented cloth surrounding you. Only crying a little harder with the hopes he would offer to have a movie night which always meant cuddles. No, you never faked your feelings to him, not wanting to lie to your best friend and consistent childhood companion, you just embellished them.

Relishing in the fact that for maybe, just ten minutes that Tsukki wasn’t just your best friend, that he grew past friends as he aged, and saw you like more, as his other half. The person he wanted to spend not only his childhood years with but also every single one he still had left.

You aren’t sure when you fell in love with Tsukishima Kei.

It could have been his moment against Shiratorizawa when you saw him truly experience joy for the first time in the sport he spent so much time. It could have been the time he gave you his rain jacket when it was pouring before you walked home, knowing it wouldn’t do much against the downpour, but the barrier being symbolic. It could definitely have been the time you went over to study and you walked in on him singing to himself while studying, the soft tenor notes gracing your ears. You only really remember how his voice made your heart skip a beat, the flush of his ears when he turned around catching your eyes.

All you know is that you were hopelessly in love with the man who had been with you every step, every stumble of your life. The man who towered over you but never made you feel smaller than he, the man that laughed before checking on you when you tripped, but always ensuring you were truly ok.

Watching him grow into his height and his body gaining muscles during highschool was both a blessing and a curse. Your eyes were drawn to his figure, shoulders hunched over on his desk, deltoids peeking out of the sleeves in a way that made you want more. Yes, you loved looking at him but sometimes it plagued you.

Eyes scrunched shut and heavy breathing, all you can think about is what Tsukki might look like under those clothes. It was a curse, lewd thoughts of your best friend being the only way you could get off anymore. That didn’t stop you from plunging two fingers in and out for your dripping cunt edging yourself closer to your release. At the precipice, you pull your fingers out and eagerly circle your clit, the other hand moving from gripping the bedsheets to pulling at and groping your nipples. Tsukki’s name leaves your lips like a fervent prayer as you cum to the thought of him. You never felt worse about yourself than you did at this moment, but somehow you found yourself here regularly.

You didn’t know that at that exact same moment Tsukki was in his room thinking about you. The way your smaller hands would fit around his dick, the hesitation you might experience but be driven forward by lust. The thought of being the first and maybe the only person to touch you always drives him to his release.

He might have fooled around with some girls before, a handjob here and there, amidst a make-out session, but he could never find it in himself to go further. He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to be with anyone else, because he knew that the whole time he would be thinking about you under him.

As you had aged, sleepovers became less frequent but were something the two of you still cherished and actively made time for. Tonight is one such night, having just finished your final midterms and gorging yourself on celebratory ramen from your favorite shop. Tsukki’s parents were out of town for the week, but were used to your presence in the house and didn’t mind you being over.

You being there should have been fine, nothing out of the normal but that's not how fate works.

Once you arrived at his place you both changed into lounge clothes getting ready to binge the latest season of Game of Thrones. You went to the kitchen to grab you both some water, knowing neither of you will want to get up once you start.

Tsukki must have had the same idea because as you rounded the corner of the kitchen, you were met with a brick wall and a frigid wave running through your body. You realized it wasn't through your body when your nipples began to harden, peaking through your now translucent shirt. While you are still shocked at the chill, Tsukki looks down to see what happened. Instead what he sees is you, accidentally exposed, the white shirt clinging to the curve of your body like a second layer of skin.

He knows that if he doesn’t avert his gaze that he won't be able to suppress a rising tent in his pants. Committing the image to memory quickly, he apologizes for being in the way, “Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. Feel free to go grab one of my shirts to change into. I’ll clean the mess up.” With that, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a towel, brushing against your body in the narrow hallway.

You head up to his room and go to his dresser, you’ve watched him put his laundry away before, knowing exactly where he keeps his biggest and most comfortable shirts. You strip off your shirt, skin pebbling at the breeze from his fan. Blushing at the fact you are taking your clothes off in your crush childhood friend room, you strip off your lounge shorts now noticing they also have been soaked.

As you pull his practice jersey on you notice it reaches your midthigh, which causes a brief internal conflict. Should I grab a pair of his shorts even though I know they’ll be too big? This shirt is longer than my shorts were anyways, but it’s not the most decent thing. The deciding factor in opting for no shorts was nothing to do with you, rather with the man waiting patiently downstairs. It had everything to do with the glint of intrigue in Tsukki’s eye you spotted earlier, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and the burning touch he left on your body as he passed you in the hallway.

Tsukki was not even thinking about what you would look like in his clothes as he had more urgent problems. His cock was achingly hard in his sweatpants, the gray not doing him any favors of hiding how he felt about seeing your body. He was doing everything he could think of to suppress both the thoughts of you and blood rushing downstairs.

After quickly cleaning up the spill, he got situated on the couch with a blanket hoping it would help hide his current problem as he got it under control. Tsukki spent the remaining time of your absence struggling to distract himself, reciting poetry meditating, anything to not think about it, think about you, think about the curve of your che- fuck he was failing.

His eyes shot open at your weight landing next to him on the couch. Subtly looking over your form, that he now has burned into the back of his eyelids, seeing you drowning in his clothes, his volleyball clothes. Wait, is she just wearing my shirt? His gaze lingering on the soft expanse of your thighs, knowing that he should be able to see the hem of your shorts with the way you are sitting. The thought of you in your underwear almost makes him moan, his already hard dick twitching with precum budding at the tip.

You shoot him a smile, apologizing for taking so long and say you're ready to watch if he is. After some time has passed, the air is nipping at on your still slightly wet skin, you scoot closer to Tsukki and get under the blanket with him. The slight abrasion from his sweats on your skin sent electricity tingling throughout your body and unknowingly did the same to him.

Reaching forward to grab a glass of water after a particularly gruesome scene, your phone tumbled out of your lap. Not really thinking you lean forward and grab it, slightly raising your ass into the air to reach the last few inches. You plop back down with a grunt and throw your arms open, hoping Tsukki would know that this is your way of saying you needed to take a break from the show for a bit.

Neither of you expected the moan that escaped his lips as you brushed across his now very obvious erection. Neither of you knew what to do after either, he flushed red with embarrassment and hid his face, you with your arm still where it landed on his thigh, unable to move. “Y/N, can you please move?.” he barely chokes out. The obvious restraint in his voice was a sound you had only previously daydreamed of.

Driven by lust, or excitement, maybe even fear that another opportunity would arise, you do move, but not in the way he had intended. You get up off the couch and he's sure that you are getting ready to leave, disgusted with him, but instead, you settle in on your knees between his thighs. Doey-eyes looking up through your lashes with hesitant excitement. “Ok, I’ve moved, what next?”

Is the one thing he dreamed about is really happening? The actuality of it seems almost incredulous. “Y/N, stop joking, I’m sorry about this. They just kinda, happen sometimes.” He can’t meet your eye because he’s sure he would cum just from the sight of you between his legs.

“If you don't want me here Kei, I’ll move, but I’m serious.” As you say his first name, another moan comes from his throat, spurring you to action. Biting your lip, you move the blanket and hesitantly grasp his erection.

Tsukki is hazy with confusion but simultaneously everything is crystal clear with pleasure, unable to focus on anything due to the duality inside his head. Even if he wanted to tell you to stop, to stop and think, he wouldn’t be able to choke out the words.

He notices you aren’t really moving which is driving him mad until he looks down and sees just how pure you look. “Kei, I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do my best.”

“Princess, are you sure you still want to do this?” as he pulls you up to eye level, cupping your cheeks. Seeing your nod and nervous smile, he leans forward to kiss you.

The chill that had previously permeated your body is replaced with warmth, the feeling of his soft lips moving in time with yours, his gentle but assertive grip on your back acting as heat sources. It’s a comfortable warmth, an invitation into him.

You plan on taking that invitation as he deepens the kiss, one hand in the hair at his nape, the other returning to palm him through his sweats. As he stops your kiss, holding in a groan you take that opportunity to return to your original position in front of him. Waiting patiently, looking up at him for instruction with an absolutely pornographic gaze.

Tsukki thought the image of your chest was the best thing he would ever see, but this takes the cake. Your hands playing with the waistband, with slight hesitation before pulling both his bowers and sweats down with his assistance.

You knew what a dick looked like, but that doesn’t mean you are any less intimidated when one is just a few inches from your face. Long and curved, a prominent vein running up to the head that is flushed red and slick with precum. His hand rests on your head with the other on his thigh. Seeing his excitement on his face gives you enough encouragement to kitten lick his tip two times. “Fuck Y/N, please don’t tease me,” his voice wavering between a moan and a whine, you’ve never heard him sound so dependent, so needy before.

Knowing that you are the one doing this to him gives you the confidence to start taking his dick in your mouth. You pause at the head, moving your tongue around, unsure what feels good until his grip on your head tightens as you rub against the bottom, just before the shaft. “Fuck pretty girl, please move your head down, please I wan--” A groan cuts him off as you follow his command. Slowly starting to bob along a portion of his length, with increasing speed.

“Spit on your hand and stroke the rest, god your mouth is heavenly” after pulling off to follow his command, you finally notice the familiar Tsukki-induced burning in your stomach, but amplified by a hundred when you see his cock twitch as you spit into your hand. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you positioned your hand under your mouth, whispering uncharacteristically gentle words of praise.

Soft moans fall out of his mouth as you swirl your tongue around his head on every upward movement. Your hand mimicking the speed of your lips, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can. One particular comment of his shoots straight to your core, “Y/N, I never imagined you would make me feel this good.” The implication of him thinking about this, the same way you have, makes you moan around his dick, which in turn elicits a sharp intake from Tsukki.

His grip has been tightening on your head slowly, but all of a sudden he pulls you off. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth without asking, just hand me a tissue.”

You never imagined Tsukki making the type of sound he did when you artlessly stuttered out “W-Well you have my permission.”

Returning your tongue to his tip, which is now angrily red and coated in both spit and precum, it only takes a few seconds before he bucks into your mouth as he orgasms. His cock reaches further than you expected resulting in you choking as he hits the back of your throat, unintentionally intensifying his orgasm.

He pulls you off of him, grimacing at the cold air hitting his spent dick, bending forward to look you in the eye.. “Pretty girl, I’m so sorry for that last bit, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?”

The pressure of his thumb wiping off a few spare tears makes you wonder what his touch would feel like on the rest of your body. As your mind delves into lewd thoughts, you shift your thighs looking for some pleasure, and give him an absentminded “It was fine, unexpected but I wanna make you feel good.”

He carefully sits you in his lap and pulls you into a deep kiss, slow but hungry. He moves down your jaw to your neck before whispering “Well, I guess it’s my turn to return the favor huh.” You bite back your moan, but as he harshly sucks a spot at the base of your neck it slips out. “You don’t have to hide your noises, princess, let me know how good everything feels.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides underneath his shirt before they find your chest. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined these.” You tug your shirt off and do the same to him. Both of you are just marveling at the beauty in front of you with lust.

He makes the first move, gently bringing your right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as his left-hand switches randomly between rubbing along your side and massaging your left boob. The warmth of his tongue flicking against your pebbled bud is miles better than your own fingers, endless breathy moans falling out of your mouth as you find purchase for your hands in his hair.

You must be unconsciously rutting against him because he stops his ministrations and stills your hips with a harsh grip. “Feeling needy now? Let me take care of you.” Tsukki rolls you off of him and you expect him to get on his knees in front of you, making you clench your knees both out of excitement and embarrassment.

So when he lays down on the floor in front of you and shoots you a smug smirk, “Come take a seat,” your jaw drops in shock.

“No, Tsukki, you don't have- What if I don’t taste good, please don’t worry about it-I don't want to suffoc-” excuses and concerns pour out of your mouth but your body betrays you at the thought of him licking your sex.

“Y/N. Get over here. I want to do this and I’ll ensure you enjoy it.” His tone was commanding enough that you moved from the couch to straddling his head without a thought, losing your panties along the way. Your mind is murky with lust and anticipation, thoughts of how many times you’ve imagined his tongue on your clit being the only thing breaking through the fog.

His tongue pierces through the haze as he runs the flat of it along your entire soaked core. Your body wants to pull away from the pressure but buck into the pleasure at the same time but Tsukki makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs so you are snug against his face.

He repeats the action, trying to coax a moan out of you, adding a little more force each time. It isn’t until the bridge of his nose brushes your clit that you finally let out the noises you’ve held in. “Kei- hi- fuck- higher,” breathy moans coat your words in lust.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” His smug tone would have been annoying except for the fact that he was pressing hesitant licks against your clit eventually circling it with the tip of his tongue. You have no control over the whines you are making, only broken up by saying “yes Kei, yes, fuck” and other words of praise

Knowing how it felt when you moaned around his dick, he tries humming with his lips surrounding your clit and if he wasn’t already hard, he sure is now after the way you lewdly moaned his name and fiercely tugged his hair.

The view of your tits heaving along with your breaths drive him to be a little more aggressive with his tongue, mercilessly switching between toying with your folds to harshly drawing shapes into your clit.

Your cunt is drowning Tsukki in slick, coating his face and chin and he’s never been happier. Sucking your folds and using his tongue to taste all of you. He can't believe that anything has ever tasted better than you do right now.

He can tell by the legs squeezing his head, and the shake of your entire body you are close to your orgasm. Wanting to try something new, he slides his tongue into your hole, causing you to grip his blonde locks so hard, you probably pulled some out.

The wanton moans reverberating through the room are the only encouragement he needs to keep pressing his tongue against your tight walls. Your cunt so desperately wants to be filled its almost sucking his tongue in, but you know that alone won’t be enough to make you cum.

“ ‘m close, fuck. Please my clit, Kei please” The loss of his pressure in your cunt is overridden by the shockwaves of his lips around your clit, paired with him tracing letters and a deep moan from his throat. That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. His moan continues as you ride out your high, hips jerking forward at the intensity.

As he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap, “Obviously I didn’t need instructions on how to make you feel good. I’ve thought about this for years.” You aren’t clear-headed enough to slap him like you usually would. All you can think about is the painful tension already building again in your core and his painfully hard dick pressed into your thigh.

You pull him into a kiss that conveys your unspoken words. Full of need and lust and wanting to make up for all of the time you lost. Your lips meet his harshly, like if you stop that it might disappear, afraid to pull back for air.

As he moves to your neck you instinctively rut your hips against him, looking for some form of release. Growling into your ear, “Oh, so one wasn't good enough for you? You want another orgasm?”

“Well, It’s obvious you want another one,” matching his smugness with another roll that causes him to groan.

Before you can recognize it, he's flipped you over on your back and is hovering over you, eyes committing every inch of you to memory, drinking in the sight of your body, pebbled nipples, slick coating your thighs, love marks he's left thus far. It’s almost enough to make him go feral.

Almost.

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop. I really don’t mind.” The concern in his voice is clearly fighting against the lust, just barely winning over his more carnal desires. His answer comes in the form of your hand grabbing his dick and giving it a few soft, needy strokes.

“Please Tsukki, I need you in me. I’ve thought about this for so long, no way am I stopping”

“Alright pretty girl,” and with that he returns to your deep kiss, your lips feeling like a home he never knew he left. He brings his hand down to your core, ghosting his fingers on your lips before teasing one finger in slowly.

You hiss at the pleasure, hands finding stability rooted in his shoulders. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth to help distract you while he rocks it in and out of your pussy. Quickly, he could tell that you were ready for a second and slipped it in, being met with you clawing at his shoulders while letting out a wanton moan.

Tsukki moves to place wet kisses along your neck and down to your chest, sucking every once in a while and then following it with a swipe of his tongue. You miss the pressure on your mouth, but you can feel another orgasm building, and it's getting harder to breathe.

You genuinely do stop breathing when he takes one nipple in his mouth and uses his free hand to start rubbing circles into your clit. Well, if this is the way I die, I don’t really have any complaints. The coil in your stomach is about to snap and the only warning you can get out is slapping his shoulders.

The wave almost knocks you out, back arching off the floor while also trying to get more from the man between your legs. Inserting a third finger stretched you so good, he watches you try to fuck yourself on his hand through the orgasm, greedily wanting more.

“You ready, pretty girl? Ready to take my cock?”

“Shit yes, Kei, please fuck me. I’ve dreamed about cumming on your dick, please please--” you are reduced to babbling pleas when he runs his dick along your slit coating himself in your slick. The jolt of pleasure every time his head hits your already over-stimulated bud edges on pain but you don’t want him to stop.

You see stars and hear symphonies when he thrusts into you. A duet of his staccato grunts and your euphonic moans, accompanied by the fortissimo sounds of your pussy as he slides in. After taking a rest for you to adjust to his girth, his pace starts off slow but gradually increasing as you beg him for more.

“Fuck, please, fill me up, god I never thought your cock would feel so good, Fuck”

Your babbling praise is reduced to a high pitched whine when he starts slamming into you harder than before. The heavy slaps of his hips into yours replacing your moans in the melody. You barely process his words as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with no remorse, over and over and over again.

“Did I just hear you say you didn’t think my cock would feel good? Do you want to go back to cumming on your fingers to the thought of me or do you want me to continue stretching your tiny little pussy out?”

Tsukki never minced his words, but the sheer lewdness of them causes heat to rise in your face. “N-no Kei. Please help, shit, me. Wanna cum on your dick so b- so bad.” His answer is to push one of your legs back towards your shoulder, the new position and the curve of his cock has him hitting that spot inside you always struggled to reach.

Every muscle in your body is tensed up, burning from the desire to cum. Shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your pussy reach the tips of your toes and through every hair on your head.

Your walls are clenching around him, wanting him deeper, even though there isn’t really any room left for him. Your body is driven by lust and disregards any pain you should be feeling, rather interpreting it as a different octave of pleasure.

You find your fingers on your chest, groping and tweaking your nipples, knowing that you get even more sensitive when you are ready to orgasm. “Kei, please cum in me, I wanna cum but I wanna, no I need to do it with you,” it sounds more like a moan or a plea than a request, but Tsukki was already struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

He took your lead, moving his mouth down to your chest and rolling your other nipple against his tongue. Simultaneously, he snakes a hand down to your vagina, to the spot you begged him to touch earlier and rubs meticulous circles on your puffy and neglected clit..

Your back arches off the floor at the first touch of your clit, and your cunt clenched around his dick, making it even harder for Tsukki to thrust in and out. Your orgasm is stronger than its ever been, you’re certain you blacked out for a minute, only coming to when you hear a hearty moan from Tsukki and another wave of warmth in your sex, this time coming from him.

His forehead pressed against your chest as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, hand still curling your clit, attempting to extend the euphoria you both feel for as long as he can. Your hands find their way into his hair and you gently tug and scratch his scalp, making him look up at you.

Your face may be covered in tears, and spit but he’s never looked at you with more adoration. You continue to pull him up to your face, placing sweet kisses all over his face as you both ride out the last waves of your high, his dick still inside of you. Wincing as he pulls out to lay down on the floor, he ends up pulling you into an embrace.

You look over to his content face, illuminated by the television, eyes closed with a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips before he murmurs, “I never knew Game of Thrones sex scenes were quite so realistic, but I’m not complaining.”

“God, Tsukki you’re so annoying,” you say trying to shove him off of you with a laugh, but he just holds you tighter.

“I like it better when you call me Kei.”

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @roandtheroses @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life

#tsukishima #kei tsukishima #tsuki #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukki #tsukki x reader #tsukki x you #tsukki x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu smut #kristen writes #soft tsukki #h*rny hours

844 notes · View notes

thatslikely · 3 years

Text

Stowaways - G.W.

Stowaways- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (former Gryffindor)

Warnings: none! just tooth-rotting George fluff :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is my longest fic to date, and I’m so proud of it. I love Georgie so I’m glad to finally write for him. Hope you guys enjoy this one <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and flashbacks/thoughts are in italics.

93 Diagon Alley is a place of wonder, mystique, and above all else, joy. A place where all your best memories are enshrined, a place where you can be your best self, alongside your doting fiery-haired boyfriend, who wears his ginger mop of hair like a halo. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes occupies most of the address, its orange and purple exterior lightening up Diagon Alley effortlessly.

Its interior is just as magical, the multiple levels of the shop are engulfed with shelves stocked full of Fred and George’s mischievously ingenious products. Some threatened to transfigure you into an eye-popping xanthic canary, while others could spontaneously spawn a whole swamp in the blink of an eye.

Everything within its walls brings smiles to children of all ages, and it could be argued that George is still one of those kids too.

The store seems to make George truly come alive, even more than he was at Hogwarts just a year prior. The look in his eyes as he skillfully operates the store with Fred reminds you of the glow that your face used to hold as a child as you looked longingly through countless toy-store windows around December.

While the shop is the main source of his pride and joy, even its power couldn’t halt the toll of a busy workweek. Every day, new shipments had been zooming in and out of the store, sales at an all-time high. The new lot of Hogwarts students must have a mischievous streak, for student-sent owl orders in preparation for the school year were arriving daily by the barrel-load.

It was finally Friday evening, and George trudged up the back stairs to the flat, his eyelids droopy and back hunched. His lack of energy, however, couldn’t take away from the playfully handsome purple and brown ensemble he wore. He pitifully fiddled with the keys before finally turning the lock, entering the flat promptly, taking in the familiar home-y aroma.

He promptly plopped down at the small breakfast table near the kitchen, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He pressed his elbow onto the surface of the table, his arm supporting the weight of his head that his neck couldn’t bear any longer.

“How was your day? You look absolutely exhausted,” you asked with concern. You already knew you would have to plan something to cheer poor George up.

“I am simply dying, Y/N,” he said, while pretending to go limp like a corpse, “there’s no hope for me. Tell Mum and Ginny I love ‘em.”

“Not even your own twin brother, huh?” you asked sarcastically. He could only respond with a zombie-esque groan.

You sarcastically rolled your eyes at his dramatic display, glad to see his lack of energy didn’t affect his sense of humor. You walked over to your tired George, who had his head now resting on the back of his chair, eyes spaced out at the ceiling.

You calmly sat down next to the Titian-haired love of your life and laid your head on his strong shoulder, your arm slowly snaking up his back. The motion of your hand alternated between tracing soothing circles lightly on his strained back muscles and massaging his tense shoulder.

He turned his face to you, painted with a soft and grateful grin, glad to finally be home, especially with you. For a few serene minutes, comfortable silence filled the air.

George had nearly drifted off before the both of you were disrupted by his stomach emitting a loud growl. “I take it you’re hungry, Georgie?”

“Apparently so,” your boyfriend responded, patting his stomach.

He languidly started undoing his bright amaranthine purple tie when you asked, “Do you want icky leftovers or yummy takeout? I know what I’m voting for.”

“Such a tough decision…” George responded with a wink.

----

By the time dinner was over, the tired look in George’s eyes remained, but the delicious takeout helped remedy his splitting headache.

The two of you quickly settled on the comfortable marmalade-hued couch to watch one of your favorite muggle movies (it was a comedy of course). George’s laugh never ceased to make your heart flutter, even after all these years. The way it used to echo so freely through the crimson Gryffindor common room, and now through you two’s cozy flat, couldn’t help but make you fall even more madly in love with him.

George somehow brought out the kid in you that laid dormant for so many years. With him, the world seemed so vibrant; there was always a little adventure waiting for you both, even in mundane activities like laundry. He would bunch up the freshly-washed paisley and tessellated dress shirts that he wore down to the shop daily, pelting them at you like the snowballs that he enchanted to hit Quirrell all the way back in third year.

You loved George with all your heart, as did he.

After a while of movie-watching, George drifted off into a light sleep. His hazy dream was filled with thoughts of the school he called home for so long. The smell of the burning logs and pumpkin that would drift through his nostrils every morning as he walked down the steps from his dorm; the sound of first years’ giggles as they messed with one of his pranks.

His brain then swam through the blurry memories to the first time he met you, the real you, drinking Firewhiskey and playing truth or dare in the back of the common room with the Golden Trio and crew after a victorious Quidditch game.

He thought of your first date, your face scrunched with belly-aching laughter as you tried stuffing in as many sweets as you could on a snowy Saturday at Honeydukes. The way the twisted rainbow lollipops and chocolate frogs made your face uncontrollably grin cemented what he swore the moment he first saw you: he vowed to never stop making you smile.

He couldn’t live a day without your joy-filled face; it enchanted him like the beautiful glow of fireworks against a smokey black sky, like the addicting feeling of adrenaline from breaking the rules.

----

“Georgie,” you whispered, “Georgie!”

Your drowsy boyfriend slowly drifted back to reality after hearing your soft whisper, your hands lightly tapping his chest to an invisible rhythm.

He released a yawn before asking, “What is it, angel?” His eyes fluttered lazily, and his lips were quirked to the smallest of smiles.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep on the couch for the night,” you said caringly, “I knew you’d be even sorer in the morning if you did.”

George’s heart warmed at your thoughtfulness. He quickly took in his surroundings, which starkly contrasted his dreamscape. The television softly droning cheap infomercials instead of the muggle movie he fell asleep to, the blinds closed to hide the velvety black sky, and bits of buttery popcorn strewn across his chest and lap.

He sat up tiredly, swiping his hand carelessly through his vermillion-pigmented locks. He rubbed his umber eyes as you brushed loose kernels from his clothes to the carpet.

George muttered, “I love you, Y/N,” quietly, thinking you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

You did, however, and you reciprocated an “I love you, too” sweetly. You stood up from the couch, extending your hand to help droopy-eyed George up. He took your hand and he rose before walking towards the kitchen, drawn to the stark blue light of the refrigerator.

The fridge doors popped open, revealing tupperware full of picked-at leftovers, a few odds and ends, and a half-drank bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy. He groaned at the meager scraps of food occupying the fridge, shutting the door disappointedly. The crisp air that surrounded him with a chill dissipated within an instant.

“Georgie, I think we should go off to bed. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I have a big surprise for you planned,” you said excitedly, coming up behind the man of your dreams, resting your hand steadily on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch as you guided the sleepy boy to the bedroom.

As the two of you laid down to go to sleep, facing one another, George asked in a tired, raspy voice, “What’s the surprise, darling? Or will I have to find out tomorrow?”

“You know I would never spoil a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

----

George awoke to the delectable scent of freshly-fried bacon and eggs wafting from the humble kitchen. The other half of the bed, he noticed, lay empty, the cozy handmade quilt blanket you usually dozed under laying askew. Sunlight poured through the windows, letting his linen covered body bask in golden morning rays.

After minutes of continuing to peacefully lay under the covers, absorbing the pure morning ambiance, George finally decided to get up and follow the delicious aromas emitting from the kitchen like a bloodhound.

As he entered, you were bent over the stove, guiding a spatula around in a lightly tarnished pan, appetizing pancakes browning within. You were still in your sleepwear, wearing oversized plaid pants that dragged across the tile and one of George’s shirts, which was huge on you and smelled strongly of his cologne.

He snuck up behind you quietly as a mouse, before unexpectedly poking the sides of your stomach. You let out a shocked, “George!” before bursting into laughter. Your chuckles blended with his effortlessly, creating a beautiful symphony.

“Morning, darling. I see you’re making breakfast,” George said with a smirk as he surveyed the surrounding food-covered counters. He seemed in a much better state than he was yesterday, his tired eyes replaced with resplendent brown and gold-speckled ones, which were flooded full of energy reminiscent of his adolescence.

“I am! And I made all your favorites, so get excited! The day’s only getting started.” You sent him a knowing wink, and he responded with a child-like grin. George giddily opened a cupboard, grabbing two shiny ceramic plates. He forked some already-cooked bacon and eggs onto each plate, shaping the food into two adorable smiley faces.

“What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend like you?” George asked after giving your cheek an affectionate peck.

“The real question is, what didn’t you do? You’re perfect in my eyes, Georgie,” you heartfeltly admitted as you carried a small plate stacked with butter and syrup-coated warm pancakes coated to the table.

George had beaten you to the breakfast table, waiting patiently until you finally sat down in the chair to his side. He eagerly stabbed a forkful of egg, stuffing it into his mouth. While Ron was usually credited as the biggest food-lover of the Weasleys, there was no way you could deny that George was runner up.

He gulped down the rest of the meal quickly, sending breakfast-filled smiles in your direction after every bite. After both of your plates were squeaky-clean, you ventured to the bedroom to get ready for the busy day ahead of you.

You instructed George to wear “something comfortable,” and he happily complied, throwing on a cream-colored, pin-striped short-sleeve oxford with a pair of worn jeans. You selected something equally as comfortable, and adorable.

You were in the middle of packing a backpack full of snacks and water when George finally asked, “So… when do I get to know where we’re going?”

“We’re going to Hogwarts,” you said promptly with a knowing smile, greatly contrasting George’s look of perplexion.

“And how exactly are we going to manage that, love? Surely they wouldn’t allow an impromptu visit like this, even good ol’ McGonagall?”

“Well, let’s just say Hogwarts doesn’t actually know we’ll be there.”

----

Platform 9 ¾ could be seen bustling with life, the delicious taste of magic floating through the air. It sent you back to all of those years you spent before term, pushing a luggage-stacked trolley across the station.

The scarlet express heaved tufts of smoke from its chimney, a piercing shriek occasionally echoing from its whistle. The magical platform was coated with clumps of young witches and wizards and their parents; the brick floor could barely be seen under all the boots.

You bid goodbye to your parents, ready to start a new (magical) chapter of your life. As you skipped gleefully to the entrance of the enchanted coach, you caught sight of a rufescent sea of wizards bickering and chuckling with each other. There were six carrot-topped wizards in total: a middle-aged and balding father, an equally middle-aged warm and caring mother, a short and freckle-ridden son who appeared to be the oldest, a tall and stuck-up boy with pretentious-looking glasses who was tightening the crimson tie around his neck, and two identical-looking boys who seemed to be first years as well.

One of them could be seen tieing the stuck-up boy’s shoelaces together, a mischievous smirk on his face as he did. The other was distracting the glasses-wearing brother, shooting the knotter an occasional sneaky glance.

You smiled at the sight before stepping into the train, eager to make new friends. You felt a little less nervous upon seeing students chatting in their compartments; pure joy from students’ laughing and yelling filled the corridor.

You looked around in search of a promising compartment. Finally, after what felt like hours of looking, you settled on a compartment filled with three other first-years. There were two girls and a boy: one of the girls, Angelina, was animatedly recounting a story, the other, Alicia, sprinkled in witty comments, and a smitten-looking boy named Lee was blushing in the corner, listening intently.

After a while of bonding with your new friends, the train slowly began to chug along the tracks, rhythmic clanking creating some pleasant background ambiance. The train began to gain speed before your compartment door was slid open by none other than the vexatious redheaded twins.

The twin who tied his brother’s shoelaces together, who you later learned was named Fred, confidently took a seat next to Lee. They quickly struck up a conversation, seemingly clicking almost instantly. The twin who served as the distraction for his poor older brother, George, sat down next to you timidly.

At first, George was too shy to say anything other than a meek, “hello”, but as soon as the trolley stacked with sweets rolled around, he became quite talkative. He was very observant; he would enchant you with beautiful descriptions of the most minute details in the most mundane things.

George was so observant, in fact, that he noticed you didn’t get anything from the trolley, despite the look on your face saying that it wasn’t by choice. He could only afford a single chocolate frog with the spare change his mother gave him, which he handed to you with a toothy grin.

You yanked on George’s long arm, pulling him behind one of the large brick pillars supporting the platform. “Okay, George, for this to work, we can’t be seen by anyone.” You unsheathed your wand from your pocket, preparing to cast a spell.

“I’m going to cast a disillusionment charm, okay? This should make us blend in with our surroundings so we can sneak onto the train. If I do it correctly, we should be able to see each other just fine, though.”

After receiving an accepting nod from George, you gave him a light tap on the shoulder with the tip of your wand. Camouflage slowly dripped down his body, as if someone poured some sort of invisibility paint above his head. Just as quickly as he faded into the pillar behind him, he returned back to normal colors. You hoped he was still invisible to everyone else.

“Wicked,” he uttered, checking out his arms as they turned invisible and back.

You did the same to yourself without hesitation. George watched with curiosity as you blended seamlessly into the platform; he then admired you as your features slowly returned from invisibility. Every eyelash, every blemish, and every inch of your lips never failed to go unnoticed by him.

“What’s the next step of the plan, Captain?” George asked with a salute.

“So, without being seen, once all the students are off the platform and on the train, we need to sneak onto the caboose, where we should be able to ride safely. After that, it’s smooth sailing to Hogwarts!”

“That sounds easy enough… I think,” George said with his hand in his palm, thinking over the steps of the plan intently.

“Oh trust me, it’ll be great! I mean, if you can set off fireworks during an exam guarded by Umbridge, you can sneak onto a bloody train.” You gave George a reassuring thumbs-up.

“Don’t even remind me of that soul-sucking bright pink nightmare!” George said with a sarcastic eye roll.

As students slowly started filtering into the train, your time to strike inched closer and closer. Finally, the clock struck eleven, and you and George were dashing across the platform to the back of the train with your hands intertwined with one another’s.

You and George leaped onto the back ledge of the train just in time, for the scarlet locomotive slowly started rolling along the tracks just as you latched onto the railing. The both of you broke into cheers of triumph the moment the train was out of the vicinity of the station.

“Y/N, look at the window, there’s no reflection of us in it. We really are undetectable,” George mentioned, gesturing towards the window.

It was unsettling to not see your usual features bouncing off the window, but you were thankful that your charm had worked.

You moved to sit on the ledge of the train, which was small, only about a foot wide. You put your legs through the wide rails so that the soles of your sneakers nearly dragged on the tracks. George took a seat next to you, his lanky legs sitting crisscross.

The scenery that the express heaved through was breathtaking; it was even better feeling the crisp air on your face. The rolling moss-tinted hills, vibrant green and yellow trees that dotted the horizon, and worn stone archways that cut through the landscape allowing the train to huff on. All of it reminded you of the impressionist paintings in museums.

The sunlight bashfully peeked through the clouds like the small flashes of vibrant strawberries hiding under their large green leaves on a serene spring day. The air tasted sweet and refreshing; it felt like you hadn’t ever breathed until your lungs were filled with it.

You and George sat peacefully in silence, listening to the noises of the express and the faint chirping of birds, reflecting on the past. Eventually, he said softly, gaze pointed to the scenery, “I can still remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

He continued, “It was the start of fifth year, on this very train. The moment you sat down in the compartment next to me, I just knew. Everything was different. There were so many things I never noticed until then; it was like my eyes were finally open.”

Silence filled the air. You couldn’t think of what to say, and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to say it.

“Everything about you looked so beautiful all of a sudden. The way you moved or swished your wand, the way your lips enunciated every heavenly word that fell from your tongue. All of it.”

George turned to you nervously. What if I messed it all up? What if that wasn’t the right thing to say? he thought. You stared down at the track, lost in the depths of your mind.

Everything George had ever spoken to you danced through your brain like ballet; his words sounded like rich and eloquent poetry, even his simple cheers or quips at teachers. Your heart felt like it was beating a million times the speed of the chugging crimson engine.

You rapidly pivoted your head to him, his uncertain gaze immediately locking deeply with yours’. Your eyes were clouded with determination and passion, which reflected in the kiss that you swiftly pulled him into. His lips felt magical against yours’, still oozing with lively youthfulness as always.

George tenderly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, you wrapped one of your hands around the nape of his neck. The kiss softened, becoming something slow and loving. Your other hand intertwined delicately with his’, which lay softly on your thigh.

After a while of sugary sweet kissing, George’s lips parted, uttering an “I love you,” lightly.

“I love you, too. Promise me you’ll marry me someday?” You asked, still heavily under the angelic ginger’s trance.

“You know I couldn’t marry anyone but you, Y/N.”

----

The sun slowly retreated behind the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant and fiery orange, which nearly matched the hue of George’s wind-swept hair. You languidly rested your head on his broad shoulder, staring out in the distance. Your face lingered with euphoria, courtesy of George’s amazing kisses which had just peppered every inch of it.

The backpack stocked with snacks you perfectly packed was now filled only with empty food wrappers. Most of the various foodstuffs had found a new home safely in your boyfriend’s black hole of a stomach, leaving you with mere crumbs to chew.

“Georgie… why’d you have to eat all the snacks? I’m starving,” you asked dramatically, pretending to be skin-and-bones.

“I’m sorry I didn’t save enough for you, darling. I would give you some but… y’know… they’re in my stomach.” George petted your hair caringly with a regretful smile, his strong fingers gently brushing through your strands, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

As you sat, gaze towards the breathtaking sunset, George mechanically started braiding a small section of your hair. He had always been an expert at braids; Ginny taught him how to fourth year. His mind was elsewhere than your strands, however, for he was plotting something significantly more mischievous.

George retracted his hands from your hair, the soothing touch of his fingers dissipating from your scalp. He stood up from the cozy spot beside you, turning to peer through the window of the coach. His eyes scanned the corridor like a hawk, his brain spindling abstract ideas into a devious plan reminiscent of the schemes he so often plotted back at Hogwarts.

“Georgie, what are you doing?” you asked quizzically.

After one final glance through the coach window (bearing no reflection), he said with a devilishly handsome and mischievous smirk, “I have a plan.”

Before you could interrogate him any further, in one calculated motion, he swung the emergency door open, leaping inside the train full of students.

If anyone was skilled enough to pull off whatever he was set on doing, it was George. While Fred was often the instigator of the twins’ famous pranks, George was often pulling the weight of the trick.

You just hoped the disillusionment charm hadn’t worn off yet.

----

George silently crept through the corridors of each enchanted coach, elaborately dancing around stray students who occasionally ditched their compartments. His face was scrunched with determination as if he were a raider searching for the holy grail.

It took all his self-control, and more, to resist sneaking into Malfoy’s compartment and giving him a slap across the head; it was even harder resisting giving Ron a friendly spook, along with the other members of the Golden Trio. He decided to stay on track of his mission, for you and you only.

Every coach he passed through, he became increasingly more irritated and nervous. Now that he was an adult, there wouldn’t just be a simple ten points deducted from Gryffindor, no. Sneaking onto a train full of students and stealing candy from the poor old lady’s trolley of sweets would be a hefty fine. Molly would definitely not be pleased.

Finally, in the coach closest to the engine (and unfortunately furthest from the back), laid the trolley, luckily unattended. It was practically overflowing with classic sweets that he used to enjoy so much: colorful Berties Botts Every Flavour Beans (he swears he got a booger flavored one once), towering stacks of frosted cauldron cakes, clear-as-glass sugar quills, and chocolate frogs.

George, of course, knew your favorite anything and everything like the back of his hand. He swiftly grabbed a package of candy from the bottom rack of the trolley, a twinge of guilt hitting him in the heart. The kind old lady would be down one treat. His guilt was quickly alleviated when magically, another perfectly packaged sweet filled the empty space.

The expedition back to the caboose was a decidedly more risky one; it’s a lot more obvious that someone is invisible when a piece of candy is levitating midair. Luckily, the darker it got outside, the more students opted for the comfort of their cozy compartments, which fostered the perfect environment for sleeping. After all, when he and Fred would pull pranks on the train, this was the hour they’d hit the hardest.

He was nearly to the back coach when a now sixth year Neville Longbottom emerged from his cabin, a defeated look on his face. A harshly conquered game of wizard’s chess could be seen, Luna Lovegood sitting next to the board with a neutral smile resting on her lips.

George had tried to dance around Neville, but Longbottom’s clumsiness was no match for him. Not even a second passed before Neville rammed headfirst into George’s chest, falling backward. He laid on the floor for a minute, dumbfounded, before cautiously getting up, reaching for the floating sweet that George grasped high above his head.

George couldn’t help but mutter a low ‘sorry’ to poor Neville before rapidly darting past him towards the door. Neville looked around suspiciously for a minute longer before accepting the fact that he had likely been the subject of another foul prank.

Finally, unscathed, George returned to the rear of the train, where you lay half sprawled across the ledge sleepily. Your eyes were closed, your ears focused on the calming rhythmic rattling of the wheels on the track.

A small smile couldn’t help but creep onto George’s face at the sight of you asleep. He gently tapped you awake, a soft hum escaping his lips. Your eyes fluttered open, a loving look glazing them.

“What is it, Georgie?” you asked, taking in your surroundings.

“Just wanted to make sure that you didn’t fall asleep here. You’d be sore by the time we get to our destination if you did,” George said with a wink.

He outstretched his hand like Prince Charming, helping you stand up from the floor. Your rubious-haired boyfriend inconspicuously held his other hand behind his back, concealing the candy in his large palm.

“Where did you go, George? One moment you’re out here with me, next moment you’re off into the train packed full of people!” you questioned curiously, inspecting George from head to toe.

“Well, you said you were hungry, so naturally....” he said, “I had to get you something to eat.”

George held out a single chocolate frog in his hand like a proud little kid. He wore the exact same smile he sported first year: a look radiating innocence and kindness. You gingerly accepted the frog, slowly unwrapping the chocolate and stuffing the card in your pocket for Ron.

“...just like first year,” you muttered, barely able to make a sound.

You were seated on the tail of the express once again, eyes pointed towards the inky black and star-blemished sky. George quickly mirrored your actions, comfortably sitting next to you. While you munched on your chocolate frog joyfully, George rested his head on your shoulder, even though he was very much taller than you. He momentarily began humming a lullaby he learned as a baby; the vibrations emitted from his voice box resonated comfortingly through your body.

His angelic humming echoed lovingly through your brain all the way to Hogwarts.

----

The train screeched to a halt at the Hogwarts station behind the school. The soothing rattle of the train ceased, to your dismay, and exuberant students began to flood out of the express like a tidal wave. You and George trailed far behind the various cliques of students, cracking jokes at the expense of the new first years.

“Look at that poor one! He’s fixed to become the new Neville!” you said laughing, before getting a playful elbow from George.

“McGonagall will have quite the handful with those two over there. Reckon they’ll be tricksters like us?” George asked with a nostalgic laugh, pointing at two boys who were sneakily distributing some sort of (surely hexed) candy to their gullible peers. They looked so much like Fred and George did in their first year, down to the very same expression.

“No doubt about it,” you said confidently, darting your eyes comparatively from the boys to your boyfriend. “It really is quite uncanny.”

Soon enough, the towering main entrance to the castle was opened with a swish, and the distinctly familiar smell flooded your nostrils. You were finally home once again. Not much had changed since you left, besides the absence of all of Umbridge’s devious decrees, replaced with some friendly-looking paintings.

“Looks the exact same, doesn’t it?” George whispered, careful to be unnoticed by the excited soon-to-be-sorted first years who were guided to the Great Hall. You nodded yes, clenching his hand harder with exhilaration.

Instead of risking getting caught during the time-honored Sorting Ceremony, you and George walked aimlessly, enjoying the unique ambiance of the school. After a while of galavanting around the halls, you climbed the moving steps towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Open up, it's George,” he whispered to the portrait of the Fat Lady with a smirk, and surprisingly, she obliged with a pleasantly surprised smile. Your stare flickered from George to the portrait, mouth agape.

“Let’s just say, me and the Fat Lady have a lot of… history. Oh, not like that!” George let out a laugh followed by an adorable wink.

You gravitated towards the comfortable crimson couches which sat by the large and inviting fireplace, dragging George’s hand behind you.

Your body melted into the red plush of the couch, the soft material much more desirable than the stiff metal rails of the express. Your carrot-topped better half took a seat next to you, his body intertwining with yours.

Gryffindors threatened to flood into the common room any given moment, so you wasted no time pulling George’s soft shirt to your chest for a gentle and loving kiss.

“Blimey! Get a room you two!” Ron said, walking towards the two of you from the portrait, gagging.

“I guess the charm’s worn off, Georgie.”

“Just in time, too,” he said with a slightly cocky smile.

You turned to Ron, who reluctantly held his arms out for a hug. You ran to him with all your might, meeting the messy-haired ginger’s chest. “I’m so glad to see you again. It’s felt like ages.”

“Glad to see you too, Y/N,” he said with a genuine smile.

Harry and Hermione entered not long after, a matching perplexed expression on their faces. “Y/N? George? How’d you get in here? Surely McGonagall wouldn’t permit a visit such as this?” Hermione asked, giving you a small but confused hug.

“Well, the thing is, no one knows we’re actually here,” George said, a grin on his face.

“How’d you do it? Sneak in here, I mean,” Harry asked, eager to learn a new way to sneak to the school.

“Snuck onto the express. Brilliant idea and execution courtesy of my dear Y/N. She’s a genius in training. Learning from the best, of course,” George said sarcastically, his thumb pointing to his chest.

“Very funny, Georgie. This one was all me. My magnum opus, some would say.”

----

The ensuing night was amazing. Laughter echoed through the cherry-tinted walls of the common room like a magnificent orchestra; classic games like spin the bottle and truth or dare were played religiously.

By the time it struck midnight, your mind had nearly escaped to your hazy dreamscape too many times to count. It had been a long day; you started early with cooking a full breakfast, sneaking onto the Hogwarts Express, and partying for hours into the night with the Gryffindors, all with the love of your life. To say you were exhausted was a massive understatement.

Harry had graciously offered his comfortable bed to you, Ron reluctantly sacrificing his to George. “You owe me one,” he repeatedly grumbled to his older brother, who plastered a sickly innocent smile on in response.

George took quick notice of the unfathomable exhaustion plastered onto your face from his couch across from you, immediately announcing to the chatting group of friends, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to turn in for the night. See you all in the morning.”

‘Goodnights’ drifted in and out of your ears as George picked you up from the couch bridal-style, carrying you light-as-a feather up the steps to the boys’ dorms. He could envision a furious Head Boy Percy demanding, ‘Put her down, George! Girls sleep in the girls’ dormitories, boys in the boys’! They have that rule for a reason!’

He smiled as he creaked open the sixth year boys’ dorm’s door, laying you peacefully onto Harry’s scarlet four-poster bed. He grabbed some cozy knitted blankets, gently setting them over your body.

“There you are, angel, have a good nights’ sleep. I love you with all my heart,” George cooed. He turned to Ron’s bed with a smile before you grasped his hand desperately.

“Before you go to bed Georgie, did you have fun today? I know you super were stressed out yesterday and all,” your words came out slurred and tired, some borderline incoherent.

“I have fun any time I’m with you, darling,” he said, smoothing your ruffled hair. “But yes, I had the time of my life with you today. Just being with you makes my day infinitely brighter. You’re like my little sunshine.”

“And will you actually marry me someday, Georgie?” you asked, your droopy eyes filled with an unfathomable and everlasting love. You were deep under the heavenly redhead’s spell once again.

“I always keep my word, darling.”

164 notes · View notes

astringofmadhousefloozies · 3 years

Text

Catch a Falling Star

The Star Sending Festival goes a little differently when Yuu has a raging crush on one of the performers.

Warnings for coarse language, deceptive actions, and being an excuse for OC x Canon, baby!

Please check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag for more, and let me know if you enjoyed it! I have an open askbox and do like to chat.

~*~*~*~

"You boys look great."

Trey and Deuce flushed a bit, and you laughed and snapped a quick picture. How pretty they looked in starlight silks and airy linens, all embroidered in gold! Pretty as a picture.

"If you like the clothes so much, you can take my spot and play the drum?" Idia, poor thing, he sounded so hopeful from the other side of his screen. And the clothes were nice, nicer than even the robes you had woken up in. They'd look nice on you. But if they'd look nice on you, how much nicer would they look on him?

You tried to keep your voice casual, but you couldn't keep out the teasing tone. "Noooo, they’d suit you better. And I can't keep a beat! You've done perfect on some of the rhythm games you play. It'll be a cakewalk."

He just groaned, and kept at it. As though pity for him could outweigh your own desires.

~*~*~*~

"Selfish little bastard of a man."

"Please stop calling my brother names."

"I'll call him what I like. Deuce has been working very hard. At least he can't resist gamifying anything."

Ortho hovered behind your shoulder. "Is it wrong that I hope Deuce succeeds? I should want Idia to always win."

"I hope not. I like Idia a lot-"

"You do."

"Shh. But that doesn't mean I want him to always have his way. He does need to do things sometimes. If he doesn't occasionally come out of his comfort zone, how's he going to extend said zone? He's got... there's zones he needs to be in before..."

Ortho tilted his head, and you ruffled his hair like the puppy he seemed. "Anyways. I got an idea. Say nothing to you brother about it, I don't want him crying betrayal in my messages."

~*~*~*~

"Easy sleep."

The gem glowed to life, and you set it aside to grab the next unactivated one. With so many students not wanting to make a wish? All you had to say was that you'd take unwanted stones, no questions asked. By sunset there were piles of them by the Ramshackle gate. all to add to Deuce's . And wishing stars didn't seem to care if the same person used multiple, just if you spoke it out loud. Which, with your loudmouth shnook of a roommate, meant you were just cycling through a list of trivial things.

"Ugh, are you done? I'm going to bed." He only made a few more wishes himself, for endless food and as many naps as he'd like, before growing bored.

"I'll be up soon, make yourself comfortable. Um. Fly the heavens. Swim like fishes. A clean conscience..." You kept going through ones in the lyrics from a remembered song, until you were sure Grim was in bed and wouldn't be awake to make fun of you.

"One true lover with a thousand kisses."

The stone clicked on like a sigh, warming under your touch. The light seemed a bit different, though it was likely your imagination. You grabbed the next one. "Idia to perform in his pretty little outfit." Click. "That if I go home, I rememeber everything, everyone here." Click. Click. Click. You kept going until there was only one left.

You whispered a truly selfish one to it, and it lit up so bright you had to blink the spots from your eyes.

~*~*~*~

"Aaaaaaaaa you look so cuuute~" As beautiful as Idia looked? You couldn't stop gushing over Ortho. "You're such a pretty little thing aaaaaaaaah!~" You swung Ortho around in a hug. "You look great! And the ceremony is saved!"

God, he had such a sweet laugh. "I'll be perfect! I have to go! I'll see you after!" Was he trailing sparkles as he went? Probably not. And with him gone, you could go back to your original target.

Idia fidgeted in his spoot and looked away as you looked him up and down. You'd never seen him look so fine. Of course, even in his usual clothes, he was beautiful, but in these, this finery? He looked otherworldly, more a fanciful painting than a person. Maybe everyone else could see even a fraction of what you did.

"You look nice."

"It's awful."

"It's lovely. A splendid get up for a splendid person." He turned red. "A kind, sweet boy who steps up to the plate when it really matters." Redder. "A wonderful person who went out and personally granted all the wishes he could - Mal told me about what you did, and look what you've done for Ortho! And you saved the ceremony!"

He covered his face with his hands. "Stop, stop, I'm too low-leveled to take these complements. I don't deserve them."

"You deserve plenty. May I...?" You held up your phone.

He frowned at you. "Why would you want a picture of me looking like an idiot?"

"You look..." So beautiful you feel lightheaded just from standing this close. "Far from an idiot."

He argued, but you did get your picture.

~*~*~*~

The ceremony was over, but you're just pissy. If it was just your phone on the friz? Yeah, whatever. But everyone's went screwy, so you knew damn well Idia did something so there wouldn't be pictures or video.

And he'd done so well! He was a born drummer, he hadn’t missed a beat. He'd been so alive, and passionate, and he needed to see it for himself. That was the whole reason, not that you’d wanted a recording of him to watch in the wee hours of the morning.

Good thing that even as he fled from the wishing tree, he was easy to pick out, and it was easy to guess the direction he was going. So, instead of chasing directly after him and losing out to his long stride, you just took a different path and waylaid him in a small clearing.

He didn't even realize you were there until you steped into his path ten feet in from of him, landing on his ass.

"So. How'd you screw the phones?"

He blinked up at you, chest heaving. His clothes were damp from the ceremony, and he smelled of sweat, though not unpleasantly. "Made a signal jammer. They'll be fine when I turn it off."

You smiled, and sat down across from him. You'd picked a good spot to find him, the moss was thick underneath you. both. "That's a great trick. Why?"

He rolled his eyes, already knowing what track you were on. "No one wants pictures of me except you."

"If that was true, you wouldn't have made it so no one got any pictures of the ceremony. The one where you were only a small part of." You decided to add a bit of guilt. "Deuce's poor mother, she'll not get any pictures of her boy!"

He flopped back onto the ground and covered his face. "Stop lying."

"I'm not lying."

"You don't actually care about that." Still lying back, he pointed a finger at you. "You're just mad because you didn't get your pictures of me! Why me?"

"Why not you? I was so busy looking at you I barely had time to notice anything else! Why would I want to look at anything else!" You couldn't stop yourself. "I don;t understand why anyone would ever stop looking at you. I've never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. And after I got to know you? I like all of you, even the parts that drive me mad. Especially those." You drew your knees to your chest, painful with the thudding of your heart. "You're wonderful. The only thing about you I truly don't like is how much you dislike yourself."

He'd drawn back during your... good lord, that was a confession, wasn't it? Against a tree, staring at you wide eyed with fear. He was going to run as soon as he caught his breath, you knew it. You'd fucked it up and he probably wouldn't even want to keep being your friend.

"Do you really mean that?"

You nodded, waiting for the shoe to drop. But instead of running, he joined you, a hair's breadth from your side, silent for what felt like eons.

"I'm an SR at most. On my good days."

"Nonsense." You laughed. "You're a treasure. a truly rare specimen. Museum quality."

He managed to laugh back. "Only normies still go to museums."

You nudged his shoulder. "I said don't ever call me that."

"Normie."

"Stop."

"Nor-"

You pushed him lightly, and he still flopped over, laughing. You joined him, head on his chest. (So damned bony! even with his faint muscle, you could feel the curves of rib beneath his skin.)

"Idia?"

"?"

"You're terrified. I can hear your heart going."

"Ah... Excited too. People don’t confess to you every day. Especially not me."

"Oh, they should though. Letters pouring out of your locker every time you open it. Chocolates from secret admirers. The whole list."

"Not everyone's you. No one else is."

"You can just borrow mine. I get tons of them."

He frowned at you. "And you pick me?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't I?"

"There's the whole school to pick from. A whole school who aren't shut in otakus with curses."

"Oh, I got a curse too." He narrowed his eyes at you. "I'm the hottest bitch in a school full of hot bitches. It's truly dreadful. No one meets my exacting standards except you."

"I am cursed. And you have no standards, because..."

You held a finger to his lips, and he went cross-eyed trying to look at it. "No. Don't start. Can I prove I like you?"

He gave a small nod, and you took a deep breath before you began. The first kiss, you placed to his fore head after pushing his bangs away. The next two, to each scrunched eyelid, purplish and finely veined. Four, five, six, to the nose and each cheek. On the last, you hesitated. Was this too much? Was this too quick? He answered you himself, reaching up and dragging you down to crush his lips against yours with a gasp. He only let you up when he gasped for breath, eyes unfocused and his lips bruised and swollen. It was such a glorious sight, you couldn't help but record it.

He didn't even get a chance to shield his eyes, and you'd stowed your phone away as he blinked in shock as he realized what the click was. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because you looked beautiful, and I wanted to remember it."

"Nnnn... please don't show anyone."

"Not even you?"

"No."

"Too bad, I'll show you after. People are probably looking for us."

~*~*~*~

You couldn't complain. You're pretty sure that you weren't supposed to plant grass seed by hand? But there was something soothing about your hands in the dirt, so you were doing it that way.

"I can't believe Shroud's not here, he made this mess."

"Ortho is here." He was in charge of spreading the grass seed after he helped get rid of the burnt grass.

"Ortho doesn’t count."

You threw a clod of dirt at Grimm's head. "Then you might as well say you don't, either."

Idia actually showed up in the flesh before that fight could continue, gushing that he actually got the game sequel he wanted. Good for him! Now you needed to find a playthrough of the original to watch, to properly understand the excitement.

"It's a pity you didn't get a wish yourself, Yuu." Deuce didn’t know that you'd wished up at least three dozen stars yourself, he thought you’d just gotten them from people. He didn’t need to know, either.

You looked up at Idia, catching his eye. He started, and flushed not just his face, but halfway down his hair, before it faded out, a pulse of pink sparks. The smile you made at the sight hurt your cheeks from the strength of it.

"I'd say I got my wish just fine."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #idia shroud

19 notes · View notes

rpd-rookie · 4 years

Text

He Shouldn’t Have Done That (PART 2) - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Ever wondered what happened after your terrible fight with Leon in part 1. Well here is your answer.

Author’s Note: After receiving some messages telling me to write a sequel for "He Shouldn't Have Done That", there it is. But I must warn you, the angst is strong with this one. So get ready to cry! Oh, and I must warn you, that this chapter revolves around the theme of religion in addition to the theme of alcoholism and it also contain strong sexual terms. So if you're not okay with that, please don't read.

Tags: Angst / Alcohol Abuse; Alcoholism / Anxiety / Depression / Language / Explicit Sexual Content / Religion / Death and mourning.

When Leon was a kid, his mother would take him to church every Sunday, dressed in his Sunday best, which was a fancy white shirt and a pair of trousers he was only allowed to wear on Sunday. Needless to say, he hated Sundays. But his mother was such a good Christian, always wearing a silver cross around her neck, always having a Bible under her pillow. She’s the one who had told him to believe. She had told him to believe in God, in Jesus and Mary, in the Holy Trinity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. She had told him to believe there was someone up there watching over him, judging him, someone capable of punishing him if he would ever misbehave, sin. Someone powerful, so powerful he could decide his destiny, his fate, his life, his death, and even his beyond. Someone who would accompany him to an heavenly residence after death, that sweet oh so beautiful paradise. Yes, that’s what his mother had told him. And he had listened and followed her teachings to the letter, maybe even longer that he could remember. He had done it because nothing could bring his mother more happiness than him behaving like the sweet choirboy from the suburbs, and that’s all he wanted back then, make his mother happy. But with all the horrors he had seen, Leon Scott Kennedy could not believe in any god anymore. He had buried all his belief, all his teachings - much to his sweet mother’s regrets - in the ashes of Raccoon City a long time ago. And with time, he even wondered if he had ever really believed in the first place.

“That city changed me, in more ways that I can think of. It turned me into the man I am today and sometimes I wonder who I would have become if I had just stayed home on that day instead of driving right into the hellish nightmare that was expecting me there. Possibly, some city cop whose worst worry would have been to know if there was enough paper in the printer. Maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad, who knows? After all, that dude would have never become the mess I am today, that’s for sure. That dude would have never found comfort in alcohol. He would have never cast God away in favour of something able to help him reach some ephemeral paradise, something that just needed a glass to be worshipped, something that preferred cheers to amen. No, that dude would have had a nice quiet life in the suburbs with a lovely wife, two beautiful kids and a dog. And like my mother, he would have taken his charming perfect family to Church on Sunday. Would it have been better for me? For us? Maybe, cause surely, he wouldn’t have done the same mistakes I did”

7 weeks ago - D.S.O Headquarters – Washington DC

You couldn’t help but focus on the fancy pen relentlessly tapping against the glass table. Sitting at the end of the table, perfectly still, his old face appearing somewhat more rigid than usual, the President looked very impatient. And his annoyance was for once more than justified. Leon was terribly late, and by ‘terribly’ you meant ‘almost fifty minutes late’ to be more precise. But the real problem was that he usually was never late. On the contrary, Leon was always the first person to arrive at morning meetings, most of the time carrying cups of coffee for each D.S.O agents including a special one for you: a large black coffee with extra foam on top and a small heart drawn next to your name on the cup, perfect to make you smile like an idiot - Your heart ached as you thought about it and realised there would be no more hearts drawn on your coffee cup now.

You discreetly glimpsed at your watch again, worried and imagining the worse. What if something happened to Leon? What if he drank too much again and fainted at home? Or worse, what if he had a car accident? After all, last time you heard him on your voicemail he sounded devastated and drunker than ever. “I am sure Agent Kennedy must be stuck in traffic, Mr President.” Ingrid Hunnigan dared say in his defence. “Then why isn’t he answering his bloody phone?” The President slammed the pen against the table and let out an angry growl. Hunnigan mumbled, trying to find something to say but the President cut her off before she could even pronounce a word. “Let’s start without him.” “Of course, Mr President.” She stood up and handed out a case file to each agent sitting at the table. When she got to you, she whispered, “Where is Leon?” You briefly looked at her and shook your head. She certainly didn’t know Leon and you had broken up. After all, it had only been a couple of days. “I don’t know.” You mouthed, trying to keep the nascent tears in your eyes. She probably noticed how sad and worried sick you were since she pressed her hand on your shoulder before taking her place back next to the President to explain the content of the documents on the table. “An informer from the BSAA has recently sent us information concerning a possible …”

All of a sudden, the door of the meeting room opened widely, interrupting Hunnigan in her explanations. Leon had finally arrived. Seeing him instantly took a weight off your mind and you sighed, definitely relieved. But the relief was short. “Sorry, I’m late.” His voice sounded off and rather somnolent. Hand still on the doorknob he looked at all of the persons around the table with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, seems like everyone is here. Must be a pretty damn important meeting then.” Oh no. Not now. Not here. Leon. “Agent Kennedy. Thank you for finally honouring us with your presence.” The president declared with a cutting tone that cast a new chill in the meeting room. “You’re welcome” Leon replied, definitely too drowsy to get the sarcasm. You almost gasped, refusing to believe it was actually happening, and watched Leon stagger towards his usual seat next to Hunnigan. She silently gave him a file and discreetly poured him a glass of water to help him sober up a little since she had noticed – just like everyone else in this room – that your ex-boyfriend was mighty drunk. Then, she resumed her monologue, ignoring Leon’s grimace as he drank his water contrary to the President, who was glaring at him, and you, who were staring at his face, completely eating up by guilt and sorrow. Were you the one responsible for this? You thought that leaving him would probably help him realise his alcoholism not fall deeper in it.

Despite the huge level of alcohol running in his blood, Leon was astonishingly listening to the reunion with the biggest care. Actually, he was paying so much attention that when Ingrid Hunnigan pronounced his name and the words “Los Illuminados” in the same sentence he almost hit the roof. “This again? Seriously?” He cut her off, surprising everyone. “You want me to deal with that Spanish bullshit again? Is that what you’re going to say, Hunnigan? Like I haven’t done enough, already.” Ingrid suddenly didn’t know what to do with herself, shocked by Leon’s sudden anger towards her. He had never talked to her like that. That was not in his nature. “Leon, please just let her finish before...” You whispered to calm him down, hoping he would cooperate. “Excuse me. You’re talking to me? You? Really.” He sneered, clearly angry. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. After all, you haven’t been answering my calls since you dumped me.” You wanted to reply. But you knew that it would only aggravate the situation and make Leon angrier than he already was and the last thing you wanted was to make a scene or cause him more trouble.

“Is this a joke, Agent Kennedy?” The President growled and glared, definitely irritated by Leon’s behaviour. “No. The joke was your election, sir!” Oh God! Tell me he didn’t say that. There was a sudden heavy silence. Everyone exchanged some aghast quick looks as the President was staring at Leon, his face reddened by anger, ready to burst. “Get out of here, Agent Kennedy. You are furloughed.” But Leon didn’t move and, with an air of defiance, simply replied “Whom are you going to send on your suicide mission if you kick me out? I’m the only one who can do the job here and you fucking know it.” “Out! Out! Get out of here! I’ve had enough of you!” The President shouted, menacingly pointing his finger at Leon who remained still without batting an eyelid. “Leave this building now, Kennedy!” You decided to get up and grabbed Leon’s arm to lead him out. “Come on, Leon. You’re drunk. Let’s get you out to sober up a bit.” You said with an incredible calm but he refused to follow you “Of course I’m drunk. What else can I be? You left me. My job fucked me up. And I’m working with selfish assholes who clearly don’t care about that and want me to continue this fucking job till the day I die. So yeah, what else can I be if not drunk?”

“Gosh, if only I had known back then what the consequences of my actions would be, I would have never said those things or behaved like this. But regrets don’t matter. They don’t matter because it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself I shouldn’t have done that, I know that there’s no turning back. I know that you will never come back. And I don’t blame you. I can’t blame you because the only person to blame here is me. And I don’t expect your forgiveness either. I know I don’t deserve it and how could you forgive me when even I can’t forgive myself? No, I expect nothing for you.”

3 weeks ago – In a bar somewhere in New York

He didn’t know her name and he was quite sure he hadn’t even asked before locking himself with her in the toilet. And truth to be told, he couldn’t care less. He didn’t need to know her name to take his pants down and he didn’t even need to hear a single word coming from a pretty mouth either. Actually, all he wanted that mouth of hers to do was to keep sucking him off right now. Yes, that’s all he wanted. Hand in her black hair, his head against the dirty wall, he was feeling dizzy with pleasure … and alcohol, especially alcohol. A routine he had grown even fonder of since he had been furloughed. “Yeah, right, suck that cock, you dirty slut.” How many glasses had he had since he entered that bar? Six? Eight? Meh, better not thinking about it right now. “That’s it.”

His cell phone suddenly vibrated on the floor, the blue light of the screen catching his weak attention. He managed to read “Hunnigan” and sighed. “What the hell does she want?” He mumbled, annoyed. “What did you say?” The girl asked but he chose not to answer and instead shove his cock back in her mouth. But the phone kept on buzzing on the grimy tiles and Leon couldn’t take his mind or his eyes off it, his professionalism getting the better of his drunken self. “Fuck” He cursed as he bent to grab the device, pushing the girl away from him, making her lose her balance and fall on her rear. “Better be important, Hunnigan.” He immediately said, annoyance tinting his drunken voice. “Leon.” Her voice was strangled and trembling. It didn’t take a genius to get she had been crying. And Leon knew that if Hunnigan was crying then something terrible had certainly happened. “Give me a second, Hunnigan.”

He quickly pulled his jeans back up and pushed the door of the toilet, leaving his brief conquest high and dry on the floor. “Where are you going?” She squealed but he didn’t listen. He got out of the bar to find a quiet place, phone still against his ear, listening to his partner sniff on the other side of the line. “Alright. What’s going on? Do you need anything?” He was worried. Maybe something had happened to her. “No” She said, her voice shuddering even more than before. “Where are you? Are you alone?” She asked. “Yeah. I’m outside a bar, in New York. Why?” He dared ask, impatient yet apprehensive to know what was actually going on. “Sit” He frowned and froze. That didn’t sound good. Nothing is ever good when someone tells you to sit down. “Hunnigan.” “ Y/N is dead.”

It was as if someone heavy and massive had instantly dropped on him, as if something had punched his stomach and crushed his chest in a single move, preventing him from breathing, preventing his heart from beating, preventing all his members from moving. That was not possible. This couldn’t be happening. This was a dream, a nightmare or a perhaps hallucination cast by alcohol. But as soon as Leon heard Hunnigan saying his name again, he knew this was too real for this to be the mere fruit of his imagination or his subconscious. “How?” It was the only word that he managed to say, feeling too numb to make a complete sentence right now. “Leon that wasn’t your fault.” “How?” He insisted. He wanted to know. He needed to know. He needed to know why you would never come back to him, why he would never see you again, kiss you again. But foremost, he needed to know who was the son of a bitch responsible for it. “ In a mission in Spain.”

His phone immediately fell to the humid ground, breaking in a thousand pieces just like Leon’s whole body. His knees bent under the sudden weight of pain, anger and guilt and soon he collapsed to the sidewalk, completely appalled, tears flooding his blue eyes.

He had done this. It was his fault. All his fault.

Disoriented and panting, he started looking all around him for something, anything that could help him get out of this hell. But there was nothing and he was alone. He would forever be alone now.

He had killed you. You were dead because of him.

Leon screamed, face reddened by rage, angry tears flowing down his face. His fists hit the ground repeatedly, hard, so hard, his knuckles started bleeding. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even see it. He couldn’t feel that pain either. The only pain he could feel right now was the one from his heart being torn out from his chest, a pain that would ultimately leave an emptiness he would never be able to fill ever again. But he wanted to feel pain. He wanted to feel that precise pain, finding it a fitting punishment for everything he had done that had lead to this moment, that had led to your death.

Was it God punishing him? Was his mother right all along? Was He making him pay for what the pain he had brought you, for all the mistakes he had done, for choosing to worship a fucking bottle of whisky instead of Him? Was it his plan all along?

“IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANTED?” Leon shouted on his knees, looking at the menacing stormy sky.

He bent over the sidewalk, head in his arms, sobbing and sniffing loudly, moaning your name, begging you to come back. “Please don’t leave me here.” But just like God, when Leon was a little boy praying with his mother at the Sunday mass, you didn’t answer. “I’m sorry.” He had never wanted this to happen to you. He had never wanted your life to end like this. All he had ever wanted for you was your happiness even if it meant a long and beautiful life without him. Because if a bottle of whisky smashed against the wall had made him realise one thing is that you deserved to find the person that could love you better than him, a person to worship you just as his mother worshipped God and he worshipped his liquor. Because you were the only thing worth worshipping in this goddamn world, the only thing he would gladly believe in. Because, if religion was meant to bring comfort, if God was truly there to watch over him, judge him and punish him as his mother had told him then you were his God all along. After all, who if not you brought him the comfort when he needed it? Who if not you watched over him when he was in a very bad way? Who if not you judged him when he needed to be judged and no one dared to do it? Who if not you can make him fall on his knees like a pilgrim and wish for a paradise just to have the hope he would one day see you again?

He stayed on that sidewalk for at least an hour on that night, still and quiet, completely empty, feeling the rain pour on him, until two policemen sent by Hunnigan went to look for him. “Are you okay, sir?” No, no he was not. And he wasn’t even sure he would be okay ever again. But he eventually got better.

“ I haven’t had a single drink in three weeks. Hunnigan says that I should feel proud but I don’t. Because look what I needed to quit.”

Leon looked at the flowered marble tomb at his feet, staring at your name with an intense sadness and melancholy he would never be able to get rid of. He had taken him a while to come here, refusing to step a foot in this cemetery even for you funeral because that would be admitting your death and he couldn’t do that. But that he was here, he couldn’t help but acknowledge how cathartic talking to you was.

“ I’m leaving for Spain tomorrow. President’s order. I guess that despite being a complete asshole he is not very resentful. I have no idea what’s expecting me there but I promise you, I’ll find whoever is responsible your death and I’ll make them pay. They will learn they shouldn’t have done that.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #fanfic #resident evil #resident evil vendetta

198 notes · View notes

bush-viper-cutie · 4 years

Text

Love Me Roughly: Risking It All

Pairing: Snape x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,080

Rating: M for Mature

Plot: Severus must come clean and risk everything he has with the woman he loves. He tells her every horrifying and awful event from his past, expecting her to leave him and hate him forever.

A/N: This is part 6 of 7 for the Schedule 1 week 1: Snape Lives AU for Snape Appreciation Month 2020! @snapeloveposts

DISCLAIMER: I have edited (drawn over the original) the artwork (taken from a 80′s bodice ripper novel) for the purpose of this short series and will post more information about the original work here.

Posted: 6/6/20

Chapter List

<– Last Chapter Next Chapter –>

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus was out of the cabin, walking Jiggy in his white shirt and thinking through a great many things. First, he needed to tell her everything about himself. He couldn’t bare losing her, but he couldn’t take the guilt of knowing he was keeping everything from her.

She had been asking him questions about his life and he had told her basically nothing because he had been dancing around the fact he served a vile and hideous master for years and on two occasions, and that he had been working at Hogwarts for all of his adult life and technically murdered his employer.

By some miracle the more she has gotten to know him the more in love she has fallen, which was perfect considering he was as much in love with her. Too much actually. His heart ached for her and the guilt made it so much worse.

Second… He was growing sadder at the realization he had lost all his friends… well colleagues are what he would have called them then, but now he sees they were indeed his friends. He missed talking to Minerva every morning before breakfast, drinking coffee and complaining mostly.

He missed hearing the baffling stories Poppy would tell him every month about what annoying injuries students were coming to her with. Pomona was the only one who knew all the gossip and rumors going around school and Hagrid always offered to have him over for tea, though he refused every time.

If Hogwarts hadn’t been invaded, attacked, and burned, students would be packing their things and getting ready to get on the Hogwarts Express back to London by now. He sighed and shook his head, forcing all his memories out of his head. They were useless now.

Jiggy came running up to him indicating it was time to head inside for breakfast.

“How was the walk?” she hugged him tight, waiting for an answer.

He gave a weak smile and nodded, “As expected.”

The kitchen now looked like one that was in constant use. She had given him many of her pans and pots, ladles and spoons, jars and bottles which now filled the cabinets and counter. The table had placemats and a nice center candle that matched the color of the cushions on the chairs.

She had brought over her plants and flowers to fill the living room with life – though she claimed it was so she wouldn’t worry about watering them. There was also a rug and another reading chair in the living room with small bookshelves behind it. This was now a room where they both enjoyed sitting and reading together instead of an awkward empty place for Jiggy to lick his privates in.

They finished their breakfast and Severus headed upstairs to finish thinking through his decision. He came back down and cleared his throat. She looked up from Love Me Roughly – she had started reading it now after him – and closed it.

“Yes?”

Severus crossed the room and sat in his chair next to hers and closed his eyes shut, “I need to tell you about my life.”

He heard her shift in her seat, “I’m all ears.”

“No, you don’t understand… It’ll change the way you view me,” he sighed heavily and paused for a minute to center himself, “I need to tell you because there are things I’m feeling for you and I can’t allow this to go on without knowing that you understand exactly who I am.”

“Severus, I know who you are. I may not know your past but it’s not like you’re pretending to be someone you’re not…”

Severus nodded, “But there are some things I’ve done that you might not forgive me for…” He opened his eyes and turned to her. “If you’re going to hate me I’d rather it happened now than – ” his words caught on his throat and he swallowed his emotions down, “So let me explain myself.”

He stood up and placed his hands behind his back. He started pacing and began the story of his years after losing his best friend, joining the Death Eaters, and handing the Dark Lord the prophecy that would ruin his life and the lives of others.

He watched her eyes carefully, going from amusement to shock to anger, tears rolling down her cheeks, but she said nothing and made no motion to leave. He felt her hatred for him as he went on about finding out his oldest and only true friend he ever had was being targeted, and about how it was his fault she died.

He held back tears and kept his emotions in check as he went on about caring for the boy of his childhood bully, about being sent back to serve his old Master, and about murdering the only person who knew who he really was, good or bad.

She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms and wiping away tears as he spoke. He couldn’t bare to look at her as he continued with all he had to do among the Death Eaters, even sitting there to watch as a colleague died before his eyes.

He sat back down on his chair and wiped a single tear as he explained his appointment as Headmaster and all that went on at Hogwarts, and the battle between Minerva and himself before he ran from the castle. He ended the story by recounting the events of the battle at Hogwarts and how he was attacked by the Dark Lord’s snake and how after curing himself and realizing it was all over, he had ran away and left the world behind.

“By now I’m sure they suspect I am alive or that one of the Death Eaters took my dead body. Though I don’t think anyone cares and would prefer it if I were dead,” Severus finally looked over at her.

She was wiping her tears and sniffling but did not meet his eyes, instead focusing on the book she held in her hands. She nodded and he took that as a que to leave the room to let her process all he had said. He headed upstairs and lay in bed where he let all his feelings come forward. He wept silently until his eyelids became too heavy to keep open.

. . .

Severus opened his eyes and squinted, unable to see in the darkness. He sat up and felt a hand slide down his chest and onto the bed. She had crawled into bed at some point and wrapped her arms over him. He turned and swept hair from her face.

Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up as well, “Severus… I’m sorry you went through all that.”

She pulled him into her and held him tight, stroking his hair and hugging him as close to herself as possible. He started sobbing quietly, relieved that she was still treating him with love and care. He was sure that when he woke, she would be gone for good out of his life.

“They’ll never forgive me for what I’ve done,” he choked, “I’ll be hated ‘till the day I die.”

She pressed her lips to the top of his head and sniffed, “You can explain everything to them as you did me – ”

“And risk them hating me even more for not staying dead? No. Never,” he pushed away from her, “(Y/n)… You don’t understand. They will NEVER accept me back. When I-I started teaching there, I was so young and they forgave my mistake. Minerva took a while to come around but they accepted I had changed and learned from it… How could they possibly excuse my actions as an adult?” He started sobbing into his hands and was pulled back into her arms.

“You said he forced you, commanded you, to do all those things. They knew you were a spy – you can tell her – ”

“My only proof was murdered by my hand and they’ll accuse me of falsifying my memories…”

“What about the boy? Ha – ”

“Don’t. Speak his name.” Severus didn’t want to be reminded of him. He didn’t want to be reminded about anything to do with him. He knew he could never apologize for the things he had done, to his mother, to him… The boy knew everything now and all he could hope was for him to understand why things had happened the way they did… and how very sorry he was.

“I’m sorry, Severus… The reason I was in London was because of the battle. I was taking care of my nephew while his mother did her Auror duties for the Ministry… Not at the school but I still heard about how awful it had all been… I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

After several more minutes of crying, Severus was helped to his feet and out of his day clothes. She pulled his nightshirt down as he dropped his head on her shoulders and hugged her tight, unable to focus on anything. She pushed him into the bed and hugged him tight for hours until he fell asleep once more.

. . .

After hours of sleeping Severus was able to push everything back once more, using the rhythm of the warm water in the shower and the soft humming he heard coming from downstairs. He dressed and headed down, expecting a small breakfast but instead receiving what looked like a feast.

There were plates of bacon, sausages, eggs, pancakes, and waffles. There was a glass pitcher of orange juice and one of milk out on the table. He sat down and laughed.

“You realize I barely eat what you serve me normally, right?”

She laughed, “What you don’t eat put in the fridge because I won’t be here for three days, I’ve been called in to relocate another Wizard at five today,” she sat down and started filling her plate.

He arched an eye, “For a second I thought you had quit… You haven’t done that since… well me.”

She smiled and nodded, “Well I’ve been turning them down but I know this one will be a big commission so I feel I must take it.”

“Was it written in your tea yesterday?” he smirked, knowing she hated how he teased her about being a seer.

“As a matter of fact,” she took the last waffle from under his fork, “It was.”

He reached for the last sausage quickly and poured out juice, “Are you taking Jiggy?”

She hid her face behind her hands.

Severus put down his fork and sighed, “Must he always jump on my legs with dirty paws? How can I walk him when he finds me more interesting than the bushes and trees outside?”

“It’s only for three days, and if you put the leash on he can go by himself. He hates it and comes right back demanding for it to be taken off, happy?”

“Well I’m not pleased.” Severus took the empty plates and charmed them into washing themselves. “I need to get started on some potions anyways, so I suppose it’s best. They’re rather fowl smelling.”

“Please keep the windows open then,” she headed upstairs and left him to clean up the rest of the things.

Severus smiled. He was glad to have gotten everything off his chest yesterday. Nothing could possibly upset him after learning that such a unique and amazing woman could look passed all his flaws and accept it all willingly.

He wiped powder off the counter and placed everything in a jar and in the fridge for breakfast the next day. He cleared the table of the candle and pulled the chairs up against the back wall readying the space for his potion. He set out his jars and cauldron on the table and personally washed his stirring rod, making sure not a single smudge of anything was left on.

She came back downstairs with packed luggage, “I’m heading out now. My portkey leaves at four, but I need to go over some things at the office.”

Severus kissed her goodbye and stood back as she apparated out of his house. In the back of his head he heard a voice tell him she’d just left and would never be back, but the loud bark of her dog told him otherwise.

He chuckled, wondering if that was why she had left him. To keep him company and to assure him of her return.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Chapter List

<– Last Chapter Next Chapter –>

#pro snape #snapeloveposts #severus snape x reader #severus snape x you #severus x reader #severus x you #snape x reader #snape x you #severus snape #severus #snape #snapedom #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape appreciation month #snape appreciation month 2020 #snape x fem!reader

64 notes · View notes

retroateez · 4 years

Text

Prophecy - Chapter Thirteen

so,,,, hello!!!

firstly i apologise for how long this took me,,, university has been a nightmare and a blessing all in one and my sleep pattern is still getting worse that being said,, here (finally) is chapter thirteen! to those of you who have been waiting eagerly and showing your support, i thank you so much for giving me the motivation to keep this series going, lots of love - hades x

Prophecy Masterlist wc;2825

The next morning, Hongjoong called you, Yeosang and Wooyoung into his office to discuss your temporary residence. He had stood before you, like a teacher lecturing his naughty students and informed you that under no circumstances were any of you to perform magic.

Easy for you, you thought. You didn't even know how to use it.

"Witch hunters will be able to trace you if they detect any magical source coming from the kingdom," The king explained. "If there is rumour of any magic beings within my court, the other kingdoms will pick up on it immediately, and it will result in bloodshed."

The way Hongjoong had looked at the three of you as he instructed you was terrifying. It was bordering on begging, and deeper behind his golden eyes he looked frightened. And you supposed you would be too, if you had to go to war for such a ridiculous reason.

You could barely comprehend the thought of Yeosang and Wooyoung being killed just because they were non-human. It made it worse how they insisted it was okay because they were 'used to it', as if that justified anything.

Still, they complied to the king's request and agreed to not use any magic within the kingdom, especially in the castle and the grounds.

"We've managed to cover up your appearance here yesterday, so you don't need to be concerned about that. However, I am half tempted to charge you for causing emotional damage to my kingsguard. You gave him quite the fright."

You stifled a laugh at hearing the extent of Seonghwa's reaction to your intrusion, the scary kingsguard perhaps being much softer in demeanour than you had initially thought.

After the briefing, Hongjoong had dismissed you to once again talk over the prophecy with Yeosang and Wooyoung.

The astrologer had informed you that they were making steady progress, they had deciphered some of the constellation meanings and were working on how to avoid the outcomes of their predictions.

"It's very easy to avoid a war," Wooyoung had scoffed that morning whilst tying up his boot laces. "We needn't worry about the Ara constellation because we simply just do not engage in a war."

"But what if somebody goes to war with us?" You asked timidly, staring nervously at the floor.

Wooyoung paced over to you and gently raised your chin with the tip of his finger.

"We won't go to war, Iris. Nobody has any reason to go to war with us. Besides, you'd probably be more worried about the Ball than fighting in a battle."

He had ruffled your hair and swiftly left the room, leaving you gazing at the ceiling with a feeling in your chest you couldn't quite understand. Something had changed with you and Wooyoung recently; he'd been standing closer to you than usual, smiling at you more, being kinder than he used to and truthfully you had no idea what to make of it.

You thought that maybe he felt more comfortable in your presence considering you had to share a room with him.

But that didn't excuse the way your heart raced and stomach fluttered whenever he would flash his killer smile at you or whined like a puppy when you refused to share any of the cook's baked treats with him.

Your current course of action was to completely ignore every single one of those feelings. Either that or take a visit to Yunho and get him to perform a medical examination on you, because you were absolutely convinced you were dying slowly from the inside out. Had some kind of magical parasite burrowed into your skin while you slept and had gradually been sucking the life out of you without you noticing? Or maybe some evil witch had snuck into the kitchens, managed to figure out which delicious looking apple you had been eyeing up the previous afternoon, poison it and cackle mysteriously as she watched you take a giant bite of the apple through the window?

Or perhaps you had been reading too many fairytales and storybooks.

That was probably it.

Yet, you couldn't help yourself. Not when Hongjoong's castle had such a beautiful library, full to the brim with all ranges of books. Even though there was such an extensive selection, immediately you were drawn to the wonderfully illustrated tales of woeful princesses stuck in their towers, powerful dragons aiming to conquer worlds and daring wizards yearning for adventure.

You had yet to find a book about an angry king and his weak-hearted kingsguard, but you didn't really need to read a fictional account to experience that.

It wasn't like you had much to do either; the ball was still a few weeks away and you still weren't allowed to help Yeosang and Wooyoung with the prophecy under Hongjoong's guidance. You saw less and less of Mingi as his lute practice was being upped due to the fast-approaching ball. So you spent most of your days holed up in the corner of the typically empty library.

In fact, that was exactly what you planned on spending the whole day doing.

You raced down the intricately decorated hallways of the castle, brushing your fingertips against the crimson velvet sashes that hung from ceiling to floor. Sunlight filtered in gently through the stained-glass windows, leaving rainbow shards on the plush rugs underneath your boots. In time, you're outside the familiar library door, a much cooler shade of oak than the other doors in this hallway, you notice. It's smoother to the touch too, like whoever designed this room centuries ago took special care in it's creation.

Pushing the door open, you enter the library. The scent is slightly dusty, with a lingering smell of untouched parchment and slowly decaying leather. The room itself is huge, bookshelves line the walls from top to bottom, almost encaging you in with towers of tales and stories hidden within leather-bound shells. The wall to your right is bare of shelves, in its space is a large bay window, with a cushioned area for somebody to sit and read. Coincedentally, your favourite place to lounge and waste the day away getting lost in foreign, mystical worlds.

Unfortunately, your seat appears to be occupied.

"Excuse me," you call politely, making your way over to the lounging figure who has their nose buried in a book. "You're sitting in my spot."

His attention snaps to yours lightening fast. So fast that you're shocked he didn't give himself whiplash or any other injury.

His gaze, much like his face and eyes, are narrow. Slender cheekbones and an unimpressed scowl are directed your way and the feeling of regret settles deep in your core.

"Your spot?" He repeats with a scoff. "And who are you to claim this seat?"

He sets his book down onto the soft window-seat, and swings his long legs round so he can stand up. Even from a distance, you can tell he's got a considerable amount of height on him. Everything about him is slim; his nose, jaw, torso. He takes a couple of steps towards you, and you notice he makes little to no sound. Agile, you think. He reminds you of a cat, his attentive gaze unwavering from your puzzled face, the way he moves concise and utterly silent. Unruly, raven black hair swept atop his head and glittering golden eyes evoke memories of the black cats from home. Slinking quietly through the market stalls, stalking mice or keeping an eye out for danger.

"Iris, right?" he asks.

You nod. "Ye-"

"Wrong." He interrupts you before you finish speaking, and he's standing right before you. So close that if you look up you can see every fleck of fire in his eyes.

"W-what? What do you mean?"

"Your name isn't Iris at all, is it?"

How does he know that?

He smirks at you, thinking he's figured out your deepest darkest secret.

"No, it isn't. How did you know? Did Yeosang tell you?"

"I've been keeping an eye on you, because I don't trust you. Hongjoong may have let you and your friends into the castle without batting an eyelid, but I'm not as easily fooled as him."

"I don't know what you think I'm planning," you glare at him, astounded that he's actually accusing you of plotting something. "But you're greatly mistaken."

He remains silent for a few moments as he eyes you up and down, taking in your hand-me-down clothes (a mixture of Wooyoung and Yeosang's) and untidy, unkempt hair.

"When our name is called," he begins to explain. "We have a physical reaction. Our eyes light up, our ears perk up, our head swivels round as we try to identify who is calling for us."

"Your point?" Somehow you find it in you to challenge him, despite the fact his glare is weighing down on you so heavily you think your knees might actually buckle with pressure.

"You do none of these things when your name is called."

"Okay. So you know that Iris isn't my real name. Yeosang knows that too. Now what?"

"I think if you're going to be living in this castle, free of charge, without doing any work to earn your keep, the least you can do is give me your real name."

In any other circumstance, you would've told him to stick it. Probably with a punch, too. But there's something so intimidating about him, something so covertly dangerous that you can't decipher.

"And why should I tell you that when I don't even know your name?" you bite back, and you see the spark of realisation on his face that he is also a complete stranger to you.

"San." he replies simply.

"Haneul." you answer.

"Haneul?" San echoes. "You don't seem like a Haneul."

"People used to call me Hana."

"Hana? Like the number one?"

You nod.

"Yeosang just gave me the name Iris when I met him, by the way." A part of you felt compelled to explain why you were going by a different alias. Not that you owed San anything anyway. After all, he had been incredibly rude to you despite having met literally five minutes ago.

"And you didn't think to correct him?"

"Evidently not."

San rolls his eyes at your curt response, shaking his head a little and pushing his cheek from the inside with his tongue, the same way that Wooyoung does when he gets annoyed with you. You think that they'd probably get on quite well.

"So, do you actually do anything around here?" You throw the questions back in San's direction, feeling quite fed up of being interrogated for one day. "Or do you make a habit of ambushing young women in libraries and demanding their life stories?"

He gives you another unimpressed look before he goes back over to his book at the window-seat.

"I'm the Ateez court jester," he answers you calmly. "I entertain company with jokes, stories, songs, you name it."

"A jester? I thought you wore silly costumes and hats with bells on?"

San scowls at you from across the room. Does he actually know how to smile?

"You read too much." He deadpans. "I'm not a character in a storybook. I'm a person who has a job like everyone else here. I wear ordinary clothes, I don't wear a hat, and I do more than just tell jokes."

San crosses the room with an air of anger, yet he still manages to walk gracefully without making a sound. He places his book back on the shelf, then approaches you at the door.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ball to prepare material for."

You side-step out of the way, and San slips past you and you listen as the soft pattering of his footsteps gradually fade, and then disappear altogether.

What the f-

"Oh, there you are!"

Wooyoung's lanky frame comes barreling into you, the slight panic laced in his voice making you worry.

"Here I am," you confirm. "What's wrong?"

"Hongjoong wants to see you." He breathes. "About the prophecy."

-----

"I've already told you! I don't know anything more than you do!"

Hongjoong had summoned you into his office, and the atmosphere in the room told you everything you needed to know. You could cut through it with a knife. A strong knife though, as the tension was so thick a regular butter knife wouldn't dent it one little bit. And the way Hongjoong was leaning against his desk with his arms fully stretched out, head hanging down and exhaling out of his nose like a furious cattle ready to charge.

You assumed that perhaps their work wasn't going swimmingly.

"The deadline to solve this is approaching fast, thief. Do you understand that? My people will die if we don't crack this soon."

"What exactly do you want me to do about it?" You angrily retort. "If you've forgotten, you've kept me in the dark for weeks!"

"Because you were of no use." Hongjoong replies simply. He wanders around the side of his desk and meanders his way to stand in front of you, his arms loosely behind his back.

"However, seeing as it was you who intially offered to help with the prophecy, I thought that perhaps reverting to our roots would prove more fruitful." He lowers himself slightly and stares at you directly with his dangerous, poisonous gaze.

His demand renders you silent. You stand frozen in his office, the worried glances of Yeosang and Wooyoung piercing into the back of your skull. You will your mouth to open and scream internally at yourself to speak, to say absolutely anything you can conjure to get out of the situation but nothing comes. Finally, the web of lies you've been spinning since day one is about to unravel itself.

And you can do nothing except for watch.

Is this where you get caught out? After so long? You were beginning to like it here too; the beautiful garden, getting closer to Wooyoung, making friends with Mingi. You had even planned to ask him to teach you how to play the lute. Hell, even making enemies with San was something you were looking forward to. And you hadn't tried the cook's famous apple pie that Mingi raved about. No. No, instead Hongjoong was going to catch out your lies, the stories you had told him and he was going to lock you up in the prison under the castle for the rest of your life. You were going to die, ancient, magicless, friendless, alone, all because you couldn't just tell the damn truth. What were you doi-

"What if it isn't a man?" your tongue expertly blurts out the first thing your racing brain can pluck out of thin air to try and save your back, and you have to stop yourself from squeaking out in shock.

"What do you mean?" Hongjoong asks, with genuine curiousity written across his features.

"Well, the prophecy says Man, doesn't it? But you've been taking it literally. As in, A Man. But what if it means anyone from the human race?"

Hongjoong stands stunned before you for a few seconds, as if he physically cannot comprehend what you have suggested.

"Are you suggesting that a woman will destroy my kingdom?"

"I-, well, no-"

"I think what Iris is trying to say," Yeosang pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against and approaches you and Hongjoong. "Is that we should broaden our horizons a little bit. You know, branch out from searching monstrously powerful men. Look into witches, sirens, even dragons and the like."

"None of those are human, mage." Hongjoong sneers.

Yeosang merely shrugs in response.

"Just a suggestion. Besides, Iris is right. It doesn't state a singular man. The gods haven't always made sense, have they? Perhaps expanding our criteria would be a good thing."

"It could also be somebody disguised as a human," Wooyoung pipes up. "Like a shape-shifter or even a halfling."

"Halfling?" you echo, confused.

"Somebody that is half human and half something else." Yeosang explains. "So a half human half elf would be called a halfling, as would a half human half giant and so on."

"So you really think that we might have something worse than a human on our hands?" Hongjoong asks. He nibbles his bottom lip in a way that makes you concerned for him. It's that moment you remember that he is an exceedingly young king, and that at times he's probably way out of his depth.

He pulls his tawny fur coat tighter over his shoulders and straightens up his posture. It reminds you of a wild fox, and his mannerisms in themselves remind you of a fox cub too. He moves quietly (a running theme of the key figures in this castle, you've noticed), and when he's calm he appears very serene.

You, Wooyoung and Yeosang all nod, and Hongjoong takes that as a sign to proceed.

"Very well. I will have orders out to search and interrogate anyone, and anything that seems suspicious. Let's hope we're right."

Yeah, you exhale. Let's hope I'm right.

#retroateez #medieval au #medieval!ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #yunho #jongho #ateez

13 notes · View notes

hobiwanisfine · 4 years

Text

Rough Hands // Anakin Skywalker

💫ORIGINALLY POSTED ON AO3 ON HOBIWANISFINE💫

Anakin Skywalker was drawn into your apartment one night after training with Obi-Wan. He asked you to read his palms and now he single-handedly keeps you afloat.

In which reader is a witch and Anakin is very troubled.

word count : 3672

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

The lines in his palm were deep. Weathered and calloused, not unusual for a trained force user. Hands that you see every month or so. You smile to yourself knowing that he is single-handedly keeping you in business, literally.

When he first came to you he had two human hands. He asked you to read both palms, you obliged.

“Your life line is long on this hand,” you started as you studied the wrinkles in his left palm.

“However,” you continued, “this life line is significantly shorter.”

You wrinkled up your nose as you spoke. You had never seen anything like this before. Two hands telling you of two different outcomes.

“You seem to be torn between two separate lives, padawan.” You look up from his palm to meet his eyes.

They are staring directly back at you shrouded in mystery but you can pick apart his shifting gaze. Years in the practice, you know what anxiety looks like.

“Wh-what does that even mean?” He asked with a level voice. His words catching in his throat for a second.

You looked down at his palms again, holding them next to each other. You squinted as you studied the lines running across his hands once again. Your shoulders rise and fall with a shrug and you let out a light sigh.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

“Isn’t this your job?” He asks, his tongue sharp and his tone pointed.

You raised your eyebrows as you met his eyes as you did before. Shock was evident on both your faces and he quickly apologized, pulling his hands from your grip. The loss of contact leaves your hands face up in the middle of the table.

“Anakin, how many times am I going to have to tell you this?” You suddenly ask, bringing your hands back to your belongings.

Absentmindedly you begin to set up a tarot spread for yourself. Your fingers smooth the cards out before you flip them all over at once, using the first card as a lever, flipping the cards back and forth across the table space in front of you while looking at his face.

You study his features carefully, as you had done many times before.

Short blonde hair that stood straight on his head, a small tight ponytail at the back, and a long padawan braid that sat dignified over his shoulder. Bright eyes that looked older than the man they belonged to. Dark eyebrows furrowed together as he lost himself in thought. Full lips that were pulled into a tight line over his teeth.

You had only seen his teeth a couple times, usually making an appearance as he tugged against his bottom lip.

His eyes fixate on his hands. One hand rolling over the other a couple of times before he switches to rubbing his hands together. You watch his hands, you know them better than any other part of him you’d seen.

They were large, larger than yours, and rough. The lines of his palms ran deep after years of gripping a lightsaber had melted them into his thick dry skin. His fingers were long and battered. Each one housing at least one scar.

You look back up at his face and you are met with that same pair of old eyes. They’ve seen more than any other man his age should ever see. You can see the pain and suffering behind his eyes.

“It’s never going to sink in,” He starts and begins to stand.

“I don’t think I can ever let it.”

With that he leaves you to sit in your apartment, thinking about the damaged padawan you had grown rather accustomed to seeing. You dwell on the thought of what he might be struggling with, trying to come up with something to look for in his palms the next time you met.

You knew of The Chosen One, but you didn’t know enough. You knew he was a boy from Tatooine, taken from the planet by Qui-Gon Jinn when he was only 9. You knew he had a deep love for his master, Obi-Wan, that seemed almost palpable. You knew he was troubled.

You just didn’t know how troubled he was. You weren’t aware of the war he was fighting in his own head. A battle between himself as a Jedi and himself as someone normal.

He often wondered what it would have been like if Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hadn’t found him. If Obi-Wan had effectively convinced his master to not go out of his way for the slave boy from the desert planet. What it would have been like had he not been able to use the force.

His biggest wonder was about you. Why had he been led to you? What had compelled him to find a psychic? If he trained hard enough as a Jedi, he could easily master the skill of premonitions, but he sought you out. The force had weaved its way between the two of you, pulling on the threads attached to your mind and tying them together.

The next time you see Anakin, he's wearing a single black leather glove.

“I can’t read gloves you know?” You let a light laugh fall from your throat.

He just meets your gaze as he slowly removes the glove covering his right hand, or at least what would have been a hand. You are met with an extremely bare mechanical arm, stretching from the crook of his elbow all the way down to the end of his fingers. Each one a thin piece of metal connected intricately to a myriad of wires and mechanical pieces.

“Something tells me you couldn’t read this palm even if you tried.”

Your mind couldn’t stop spinning. You shuffled, spread, flipped, read, sighed, repeated. Each time you asked the spirits a different question.

“What could happen to Anakin?” You ask aloud and shuffle the cards.

You flip the card off the top and begin to read it.

Death, inverted Justice

You study the cards before you, trying to make sense of what the spirits are trying to tell you.

Death tells you that he’s resisting a certain change, you’re unsure of what it is but perhaps the other cards will tell you.

Justice tells you that he believes he’s currently being treated unfairly, you also knew of this. He had asked if you could read anything off his palm about his future as a Jedi. Of course you couldn’t but you humored him and gave him vague details about what his future lines showed you.

You sighed and slid the card back into your deck, suddenly feeling like you didn’t want to talk with the spirits anymore.

“How bad was it?” You felt your body jump at the sound of his voice.

Slowly turning to meet his eyes you sigh again. You shake your head and wave him off.

He was already troubled, he didn’t need the spirits to mess everything up more. You invite him to sit at your small table assuming he wants his palm read. He sits down and you snuff out your candles before making your way over to sit opposite him.

You lay your hands out in the middle of the table, waiting for him to place his hand in yours. You were met with nothing. Shifting your gaze from your hands to his eyes you felt your heart in your throat.

“What do those candles mean?” He asks slowly, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

You feel the heat rising into your cheeks, your hands suddenly cold as you realize he was truly interested.

“Well, red candles can symbolize love,” you leave out the part about how the type of love they usually represented was a lustful kind.

“And the fact that it’s dripping into some kind of powder… smells like-”

“Cinnamon,” you quickly finish for him.

“It’s used to speed up most processes, it’s also, uhm,” you struggle to find the right words to inform him.

“Cinnamon is also known as a male aphrodisiac.”

Your eyes find a spot on the floor, embarrassed that he could think it was about him.

You had used the cinnamon to speed up the process of the spirits reaching out to you, the candles used to strengthen your connection to the person the question had been about.

Eyes leaving the floor you timidly find his face. He’s looking at his hands. Always his hands.

“Why did the force bring us together?”

You shrug and exhale heavily. Maybe it had something to do with your practicing magick, but you truly didn’t have an answer.

His eyes lift for a second and you can see the bags under his eyes. It had been awhile since you’d seen him, longer than usual and you were concerned about him.

“Have you been sleeping?” you ask softly.

His eyes gloss over and you instantly stand up. You make your way around the small table you worked on and crouch down in front of him. His eyes are on his hands again, not daring to meet your concerned gaze.

You put one of your hands on top of his, breaking his concentration and bringing his attention to your face.

“Anakin, I can’t see everything. If you need help figuring something out, tell me, please.”

He shifts, pulling his gloved hand from you and running it through his short hair. He seemed to be contemplating your offer.

You close your eyes and just wait, he's not very good at conveying emotions, he wasn't even supposed to have any in the first place. The characteristics of his face settle behind your eyelids and you think, imagine. You imagine what it would be like if he wasn't a Jedi. If he was allowed to have feelings. What it would be like if you could just kiss him, let him know how much you've come to care about him. What it would be like to feel him, not only sexually but romantically. Feel him sleeping next to you, finally at peace.

A cold touch on your cheek yanks you out of your thoughts, however your eyes stay closed. You know it's Anakin's hand but you don't want to acknowledge it. He wasn't supposed to have feelings and you weren't supposed to fall for him. But he does and you did.

"Your thoughts are loud. Your metal images, vivid." He whispers.

You can smell his breath, minty and intoxicating. You sigh and lean into the hand on your cheek. You know this isn't supposed to be happening but you can't help yourself from enjoying it. You had wanted this from him for so long that you had lied to yourself as you set up your candles earlier. They were for him, hoping they would draw him in after you hadn't had contact with him in over 2 months.

"I've seen what you want from me and honestly," he moves his body toward you, "I want it too."

That is enough to make you open your eyes and stare into his. He's eyes feel like they're lighting your face on fire as they flick to all of you features. He keeps his focus on your lips though and suddenly you find the courage to touch him back.

You remove your hands from his human hand and grab his cheeks, pulling him in so that your lips could meet. He closes his eyes and sighs into the kiss, his bionic hand finding its way into your air from its previous position in your cheek. One of your hands moves to the side of his head, finding his padawan braid and swiping your finger across where it leaves his scalp. He pulls you closer by the back of the neck and deepens the kiss. Your hand moves with a mind of its own and slightly tugs on the braid between your fingers.

Anakin slightly moans into the kiss and you feel him falter for a second, only to find his strength again you wrap his arms around you. Lifting you out of the awkward position and placing you on his lap, your legs on either side of his. He lets his tongue run across your bottom lip as his hand comes to rest on your thigh, squeezing lightly. You moan and he slips his tongue past your lips.

You both pull away to breathe and look each other in the eyes, the first time your gazes have met instantly.

Your hands root themselves where they are, one on his shoulder to steady yourself and on in his hair, his braid dangling between the base of your middle and ring fingers just waiting to be tugged at again. His hands skim across your body until they find a position that they like, one hand on your waist tentatively squeezing and one on your ass, rolling you hips forward and back on his hardening bulge.

Through his robes you can't feel much and you take the hand on his shoulder and guide it under his cloak, slowly pushing it off one shoulder then the other, him pulling his hands off of you to let it fall into the chair. Standing up, he hooks his arm under your thighs and holds you to his body, the other hand moves back to your face as he strokes your cheek.

He walks over to your bed and sits you down, standing before you and seemingly feeling intimidated. You deduce he had never done this before and you quickly pulled him down to the bed, flipping him over so he's on his back and you're straddling his hips once again.

You lean down and initiate another kiss as your hands find their way to his belt. Quickly making work of it and pushing his robes away from the tunic he was sporting underneath. Your hands trail up and down his body and your fingers hook underneath the undershirt, slowly sliding it up his torso and over his head. You take the opportunity of the broken kiss to lean back on his thighs, admiring his toned stomach and chest.

Jedi training does a body good. He laughed a bit and you snap out of your trance remembering he could hear your thoughts. His hands find your hips and his fingertips play with the hem of your own shirt, softly rolling it between his fingers before beginning to lift it up and over your head. He tosses your shirt to the side and his hands begin to slide across your skin. You shiver at the sensation of his rough hands on your soft skin. But before he can do anything, you push his hands away as you make your way down to his pants, slowly peeling them from his legs leaving him in only his underwear.

He moans as you rake your nails over his strong thighs and you feel them shudder under your touch. You smile slightly and trail your eyes up his body. Anakin has his eyes on you, having propped himself up on his elbows to watch you intently. You bite your lip and send him a warm smile before making your way back up to kiss him. His hands on your body once again, pushing the button of your pants through the hole and pulling them down your legs. You lifted yourself off of him and continued to shuck the pants from yourself. Sinking to your knees in front of him as your fingers slid under the waistband of his underwear.

You tug slightly, eliciting a hiss from Anakin as the waistband catches the tip of his hard cock. You roll them down his legs and fling them off behind you, letting your eyes wander back up to his length. You can feel him tense up under your gaze but you continue your path up to his cock, leaving light and comforting kisses up his thighs. You leave a kiss on his hip and then move your mouth to hover above him. You look up and meet his eyes once again, they're pleading and you smirk.

You flatten your tongue and lick a long wet stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. Keeping your eyes on him you take his tip into your mouth, he's quiet except for the labored breathing and this spurs you on. You suck on his head, lapping up the pre-cum that began to leak out. You keep your eyes on him as you take him deeper into your mouth. He's above average for sure but this was about him so you force yourself to hollow your cheeks and push even further down onto his cock.

His hands fly to your hair and pull it out of your face, his flesh hand resting on your cheek so he can feel his dick in your mouth. Slowly you take more and more of him in, until your nose presses against the dark hairs at the base of his cock. You can feel your throat bulging as you fight you gag reflex, relaxing and swallowing while your mouth was completely full. He tenses under you and you pull back, sputtering out a cough as strings of spit are pulled taut from your mouth leading back to his cock.

He wipes your lip with his thumb, spreading your spit across your face, mixing it with the spit on your chin. He pulls you up to be face to face with him and kisses you quickly. He brings his hands back up to slide them across your body and unclasps your bra. You shake it off and his warm hand instantly cup your breasts and gently squeeze them before kissing you again. You lean into the kiss and his hands are forced to find a different part of your body to worship, as your chests press together.

You slightly grind against his cock with you pussy still hidden behind a pair of panties. You moan out as you feel them being pushed down your legs, shaking fingers finding their way up your thighs. You pull away from Anakin and look him in the eyes as his hand find its way to your dripping core. He swipes a finger between your folds and you stifle a moan. He leans up right next to your ear and lets his own breathy moan escape him.

"Fuck, you're so wet." He mumbles as he delves a finger toward your entrance.

You moan loudly at this and he smirks finding this side of himself easy to access. He pushes his finger inside of you, slowly pumping until you're whining against his shoulder. He adds another finger and his thumb suddenly meets your clit, twisting rough circles into the nerves as he continues you pump his fingers inside of you. You bite his shoulder and he pulls your face away to meet his eyes again. He pulls you in for a heavy kiss.

He reaches down and lines himself up with your entrance. He pulls away from the kiss and looks into your eyes, double checking that this is what you want. Your response comes when you lower yourself slightly onto him and you moan and the warm sensation. He keeps his hands on your hips as you slowly slide onto his cock. Your pussy stretches around him and you can't help but moan loudly when he finally bottoms out. Your knees are either side of his hips and your ass is on his thighs. You stay still for a second, adjusting to hi delicious stretch, and then begin to move.

Slowly at first, mainly just moving his cock around inside of you grinding your hips together again. You gain comfort and you begin to slightly bounce, your hands on his chest as to steady yourself. Anakin keeps one hand on your hip as the the other comes up to cup one of your breasts. Swiping his finger over your nipple your breath hitches, your pace stuttering as you continue to bounce. His hand travels behind you and up into your hair, once again creating a ponytail in his hand, and tugging, hard.

You almost scream at this and he takes the opportunity to lift you slightly with his hand on your hip and start fucking up into you, still gripping your hair tightly in his other hand. His pace is brutal and you can feel yourself coming undone already. Your hands seeking for something to hold onto before you slump over onto his chest, your arms snaking their way under his arms and around his shoulders.

Anakin suddenly flips you over so he's on top and continues his assault on your pussy, removing his hand from your hip and it finds its way to your clit. The cool metal digits pinching your clit are hard and unforgiving and you moan again. His mouth finds your nipple and he pulls it in, swiping his tongue across and sometimes his teeth. Eliciting even more moans from your throat. His hand is still deep in your hair and he continues to tug. You wrap a leg around his waist as he continues to pound into you and you feel a familiar pooling in your stomach.

"Fuck, Anakin, I'm gonna," your breath hitches as he moves back up to your face, his mouth going to your ear, placing a kiss beneath it.

"Cum for me baby."

And you do, screaming his name as he continued to fuck you, reaching his own climax shortly after you. He releases inside of you and continues to ride out both of your orgasms. He pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you and you instinctively find yourself with your head on his bare, sweat slicked chest. His arm wraps around you from above, sitting protectively across your back, his hand laying softly on your ass.

"That cinnamon really worked huh?" He laughed out and you blushed finally coming to terms with the fact that you had aided this process.

"Yeah, I guess it did."

#anakin skywalker #padawan anakin #anakin skywalker smut #star wars #star wars prequels #ur welcome

42 notes · View notes

badbhye · 5 years

Text

ALLURE (m)

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: vampire au, smut

summary: A night with one of your regulars takes a different turn.

warning: explicit sexual content, prostitution, female receiving, multiple orgasms, unprotected penetration (stay safe y’all), orgasm denial, overstimulation, mild bloodplay, dom/sub-themes... but like corny romantic

word count: 5.3k

A/N: this wasn’t something I had planned but I really wanted to post something to get into the habit of writing after my hiatus! and it ended up taking me forever to write lmao

The air is different — heavy. It's a feeling you're beginning to get familiar with, almost welcoming it. The hair on your neck stands up, and you almost relish in the goosebumps that rise across your skin.

He's here.

You don't know how you can always tell, maybe it's the way he commands the air around him, maybe his presence alone is just so alluring that you just know. Maybe it's just him. You're never told when he's visiting but there are always tell-tale signs of his arrival. The rooms are shrouded in darkness, nothing but the pale moonlight seeps in from the windows. It's cold without the warm glow of scattered candles, but you're not permitted to question it. It's quiet as you make your way up the stone steps, which is quite unusual for your line of work. There's always a sense of liveliness in your surroundings while you work. But tonight, it doesn't hone the same energy, there is no overwhelming scent of perfume lingering in every crevice, no muffled voices seeping through the cracks of the door. It's just you.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, breathing accelerated but it isn't out of fear like it had been the first couple of times. It's a feeling of excitement that courses through your veins at the prospect of being reunited with him. Standing on the last step, you school your features. It is unwise to show anything other than complacency in your line of work after all. Taking a deep breath, you wait until you're called. You know that he's aware of your presence, that you don't need to make yourself known to him. He's known since the moment you've stepped inside the building.

"Enter."

It's faint to your ears but you bristle at his voice. Limbs moving almost automatically at his command as you push open the door. It's so silent that the creaking of the door seems deafening to your ears. But that doesn't matter when you spot him lounging on the bed. He doesn't look your way, you'd think he hasn't even acknowledged your presence if it wasn't him who had granted you permission to come in. As you move forward, you frown. He looks different. Taking a deep breath, you fight the urge to pull at the corset that restricts your chest. Your eyes go back to his face, admiring his features, but he remains still, gazing into nothing. You're aware that he's not like anyone you've ever encountered before and even with your multiple meetings, you've never gotten rid of this ounce of intimidation that he holds over you. It's so different for someone else to have this sense of power over you, especially in your work environment. It's not like he's ever used the asset, but the prospect that he could sends a thrilling jolt down your spine.

You don't dare speak a word to him as you make yourself sit at the edge of the bed but are at a loss when you get a better look at his face. He looks lifeless and that's saying something considering he is one of the living dead after all. His eyes that used to hold such a mischievous twinkle lay grey and glassed over. You've heard of encounters with his kind before, they were brief, a little exaggerated but enough for you to have your own preconceived notions. But he wasn't like anything you had ever heard, he was gentle, charming, trustworthy. He was alive. So, seeing him like this, fair to speak, alarms you a bit. Gingerly, you move closer to him, hand slowly cupping his cheek. You're met with an immediate response when he exhales, eyes closing as he lightly nuzzles his cheek into your palm. There's relief on his features as soon as he feels your touch, chest deflating like he hadn't taken a single breath until this very moment.

"I've missed you," he mumbles mostly to himself but it's like your senses are working on overdrive and you're hyper-aware of everything around you. He moves closer and you hold your breath, bracing yourself but all he does is lightly shift your silk robe until it falls off your shoulder, leaving you only in your corset and panties.

You flush until his scrutinizing gaze, something that only happens in his presence. You'd overcome the nervousness and shyness many years ago considering that you showed off your body for a living. The constant praise you received made you realize that you were indeed beautiful enough that men and occasionally women would pay to worship you for a night.

You shudder when you feel his cold fingers work on the ribbon to undo your corset, it easily falls open, your breasts bursting out at the lack of confinement. He hums in satisfaction, eyes glazing down your figure. You want to squeeze your thighs together for some relief already, but you know better than that, so you patiently wait even though the silk of your panties is practically sticking to you now.

He moves back, leaning against the headboard. "Come here," he beckons, eyes tracing the curves of your body until he reaches your center. "Get yourself comfortable on my lap."

You don't hesitate to comply, your body aching for any sort of friction. You let out a small whimper as soon as you can feel him between your legs but you control your movements, careful not to start rubbing just yet. He shifts his hips that your core feels every inch of his cock and you all but fall over at the shock you get on your clit.

"M-master," you mewl your first words to him, voice breathy.

"Taehyung," he says, watching you try so hard to stay still and obedient. You don't respond, just open your eyes and look at him in confusion, eyelids still heavy at the close proximity between you two. He hums, enjoying the feel of your body on his own, a hand trailing down your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Call me by my name, love."

You shudder at his touch on your lower back, at the patterns he's leaving on your skin as your eyes flutter to meet his own.

"T-Taehyung," you moan out softly.

At that, you feel his cock twitch beneath you.

"Why don't you get me ready to take you," he suggests, hands moving to start guiding your hips. You immediately start rubbing your clothed pussy up and down his length. At every movement, you feel it getting harder, thicker, making you clench around nothing in anticipation. You close your eyes, trying to forget about the barriers between the two of you as you drag your clit against his pelvis. Your silken panties were almost forgotten when you eventually lose yourself in the feeling. You're so close to release you can taste it. Your whines increase in volumes, stuttering and breathy when pleasure jolts through your veins. You can feel Taehyung's hot breath on your neck, making your thighs twitch as you grind down even harder than before.

"Taehyung," you breath out. "I'm gonna-" It's difficult to let out coherent words when the pleasure you're feeling is amplified. It's not surprising now, but you never fail to be shocked at the sheer pleasure you feel whenever you're with him. It's like you're reduced to your virgin self, experiencing the wonders of a cock for the very first time.

"Let go, love," Taehyung says, guiding your hips to move faster. "lose yourself on my cock."

Those are the only words you need to hear and soon enough, you're tensing as the head of his dick is pressed against your nerves sending shock waves up your spine and wave after wave of pleasure seeps through your veins. Your head falls back as you let out a long drawn out moan, baring your neck to him. You almost want him to bite you, to sample your taste, to make you his. But you know it's futile to want these things, you're nothing but a simple whore after all.

You're so lost in the feeling of your orgasm that your eyes only flutter open when your head hits the plush mattress.

“You’ve made such a mess,” Taehyung smiles. “You’ve dripped all over me.”

You follow his movements, peering down at the evident wet stain on his dress pants. After your sight finally focuses, your cheeks heat up, not used to coming undone so quickly into the night.

"Master," you speak when you manage to compose yourself a little. "Let me take care of you now."

"There is no need to, my love," Taehyung replies as he settles himself between your legs. "I am already being taken care of." You clamp your mouth shut when you see the stark red colour of his pupils, swirls of crimson plaguing the golden hue of his iris. His hands trail your skin, slowly descending down your breasts, the coolness of his skin making your nipples stand tall as shivers wrack down your body. His pace is agonizingly slow and you have to hold your tongue in fear of you demanding him to just fuck you already. You knew your place. When his icy touch reaches your panties, he pauses, eyes finally meeting your own. "May I?"

You quickly nod, knowing your voice would betray you when you're under his stare. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and slowly begins to slide down your underwear. He takes his sweet time, enjoying the way the silk sticks to the wetness of your pussy as he pulls the sodden pair down your thighs. Your folds glimmer in the moonlight, thighs shining as the light catches your skin. Your wetness sparkling like stars and Taehyung swears he can see your entire body glittering in the same way - like you are all the stars in the sky combined. Once he's pulled the underwear completely off your legs, he can't help but bring the ruined pair to his nose and inhale deeply. He groans loudly at the scent that's left on the silk. "You smell divine." He doesn't hesitate to tongue the center that's been drenched with your release, his cock twitching once more when your taste floods his senses.

You squirm beneath him, watching him put your ruined panties in his mouth. It's torture to see him ravage them when your pussy is on display for him. "Why are you tasting scraps when the main course is right here?" you ask, suddenly feeling bold. You know you would be scolded for this if Madame ever found out but you really can't help yourself when you see the way his lips suck everything they can from the ruined material while leaving your quivering hole neglected and painfully empty. You swear you see him lose his composure when his sharp eyes peer down as you spread your legs even more for his viewing pleasure. He stutters, your panties still caught between his teeth, breath hitching in his throat when he spots a fresh trail of wetness slide down your folds.

"I don't like to waste my food," he coolly responds, grabbing you by the thighs to further make room for himself. "Especially when it's this delectable."

He's quick to have his head between your legs, leaving open mouth kisses up your thighs. You can feel the way his fangs occasionally press down, biting the flesh but never breaking the skin. As he gets closer to your center, he begins to suck on the supple flesh of your thighs, leaving marks in his wake. The feeling making you let out weak whimpers, growing increasingly desperate for the same attention where it matters.

"M-master," you gasp, eyes tearing up. "Please!"

"What do you desire, my love?" he asks, peering up at you from between your legs. He's so close to where you need him most, you can feel his breath fanning your wetness. That sensation alone makes you want to squirm but the hold Taehyung has on your thighs is so strong that you stay rooted in place.

"Hmm?" You see him raise an eyebrow at your silence, tongue peeking out to lick his lips at the strong scent of your arousal invading his senses.

"I want you to ravish me," you let out, barely a whisper but you know he's heard you because his lips form an easy smile at your words, delighted by your words.

"Anything for you, my love."

He doesn't tease you any further, licking a straight stripe up to your clit almost immediately. The sensation has you vibrating as you can't help but cry out at his tongue's assault. You're still so sensitive from your first orgasm so every touch, nip, and taste is more potent. But you're certain that your initial orgasm has little to do with it and more to the fact that it's Taehyung that's feasting on you like you're his only life source.

"Taehyung," you moan wantonly, hands reaching to grab at his hair and push him deeper into your core when you feel him nipping at your clit. "Please!" you cry out, not sure what you're begging for at this point.

He doesn't stop sucking when he plunges a long finger inside, you groan as your back arches off the mattress at the intrusion. He's quick to add another finger to the mix, scissoring them slowly as he tongues at your nerves, sending jolts of pleasure down your legs. You can't control yourself as your hips begin to move on their own accord, trying to get as much of his fingers stuffed inside of you.

"My love is so impatient," Taehyung tuts, slowing down his movements but his fingers stay knuckle deep inside of you.

You whimper when he starts to pull his fingers apart, the stretch burning. "I'm sorry, master," you let out. "I'll be a good girl for you."

"Can my good girl take one more finger?" he asks, smiling sweetly, a fang peeking out and you're shell-shocked when you realise that this boyishly charming man has had you tied up, bound and gagged in this very room before. You break out of your reverie quickly and nod enthusiastically, aching to get anything he'll offer you.

"My greedy girl," Taehyung teases, but you can see how pleased he really is when he adds another finger so agonizingly slow that you shiver. You're breathing is labored again when he slides in and out of you, blushing when you can hear all of it so clearly even though you've long forgotten the feeling of embarrassment regarding anything sexual. But right now, in his presence, you feel so out of your general character. You're so eager to please, not because of the money you'll be greeted with at the bedside tomorrow morning, but to be rewarded with your master's satisfaction. You want to please him, want to be the reason he comes undone.

"I'm close," you stutter out, groaning when his fingers glide across your g-spot, reaching in so deep. He goes down to suck on your clit, his fingers not ceasing their movements and you all but scream, tears flowing freely down your cheeks as you rock your hips, eager to find your release. It's so close you can taste it, your eyes roll in the back of your head, your body shivering at the prospect of reaching an orgasm so strong. Taehyung's teeth nip at your sensitive flesh, immediately soothing it with your tongue and he groans when he feels you get wetter than before. You're wailing at this point, hurdling to your release at full speed, and right when you can almost feel it at the tip of your fingers, Taehyung lets go of you but not before he slurps up the nectar leaking out of your pussy.

You unabashedly sob out loud at the loss of contact, feeling extremely sensitive but also very unfulfilled. Your breath hitches as you hiccup, hips grinding onto nothing as you ache to find any sort of friction to aid to your release. You groan when his icy touch ceases your movements, fingers digging into your hip. "Ah-ah," Taehyung tuts. "You need to pace yourself, sweetheart, that was just an appetizer."

You try hard to stop your sniffles but you feel so pathetic at that moment, like a child being robbed of their candy and you can't help but throw a tiny tantrum in reaction.

"I was so close," you sob. "Please, please master, let me come, I need to come."

All the years of experience you've had has now completely vanished, you're nothing but greedy and desperate, reduced to nothing but a crying, sobbing mess as you beg for relief.

"All in due time, my love," Taehyung says as he sits you up, sitting you down in his lap once more. He immediately pulls you down to a deep to kiss your tears away, wiping at your wet cheeks making you stiffen for a split second. There’s a different sense of gentleness he embodies unlike your prior meetings with him. When he reaches to give you a deep kiss on your lips, you eagerly begin to return the gesture, the lingering taste of you in his mouth making you moan into the kiss, you start to grind your hips against his once more but he's quick to stop you. "What did I say?"

You stare back at him with wide eyes but notice that he's still staring at you with the same adoration as before. Getting shy, you shift your gaze. "To be patient," you mumble softly. Usually, by this time, he'd have you tied to the bedpost, balls deep in you but now, he's so calm and gentle. There’s a softness to him that you’re not quite familiar with but greatly enjoy.

"Good girl," he smiles, giving you a peck on your lips and it takes all your strength not to chase after his lips.

It's laughable how utterly wrecked you are right now. You love sex and have quite the stamina during your time in these rooms but something about Taehyung has you writhing like you're completely wrapped around his finger. You're certain that his kind also acts as some sort of aphrodisiac, the power to have someone at their mercy but you know that Taehyung would not hold this power over you, regardless of being a vampire.

"Are you ready for the main course?" he asks teasingly, gently laying you down on your back.

You nod quickly, the ache between your legs never fully ebbed away and the prospect of him finally fucking you had you clenching once again.

"I want to hear it," he chuckles though he does reach down to slip out of his pants, cock finally springing free.

Your eyes immediately fall down to where his length stands proud, a mouth-watering sight. "Yes please," you speak up, eyes not leaving his dick. "Please fill me up with your cock."

He groans at your words. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he smiles, hovering over you and you immediately reach out to feel the silk of his robe. You take this time to admire his features, he looks so ethereal like this. He's truly the most beautiful creature you've ever laid eyes on and the way he carries himself, radiating absolute divinity. It's breathtaking. And when he's smiling at you the way he is now, it's so easy to forget your reality, like you truly are his lover and he yours. It's so easy to get lost in this fantasy, to crave this intimacy, forgetting that you'll probably be in this room tomorrow, but with someone else.

You're brought back to reality when you feel Taehyung's dick prodding your folds and on contact, you're mewling, your pussy desperate to engulf his length. Rather than shoving his entire length in one go, he slowly prods around your entrance adding little to no pressure, ultimately making his dick slide up and down your slit. Every time his head taps your clit, your hips jump as if you’ve been shocked but you bite your tongue and stop yourself from crying out in hopes of appearing patient - and reaching your orgasm before he’s as much as entered you. But you’re sure Taehyung can smell the saline aroma of the air as tears gather around your eyelashes once more. One more push forward and he’s leaning closer to you, kissing your eyes gently as he slowly inched his way inside.

Even though you're painfully wet, you still have to hold your breath until he's fully seated inside of you, to get yourself used to the feeling, no matter how many times you've done this before and because you want to savor the sensation. Taehyung's probably the most magnificent cock you've had lodged in you in all your years of experience.

You hiss when he’s fully settled inside you, hips rotating slightly. Taehyung can’t help but watch your expression, mesmerized by the way your eyes screwed shut, your lashes wet with unshed tears, mouth open as a silent moan escapes you. He’s enthralled by how much beauty can be encased in one person. It’s a thought that’s been plaguing his mind ever since he first laid eyes on you. At first, he believed it was his blood lust that drove him to you, but after the nights he’s spent with you, he’s never truly satisfied. Not even after having you in ways that indulge his baser needs to control, to overpower. And now, when he’s here with you, watching you come undone at his touch, he feels such thrill, like he’s alive again. His patience is wearing thin, the instinctual need to make you submit is strong, but he pushes it aside, knowing it’s useless. He’s so busy following each movement of your body, your face, that it’s when you weakly pant out a Taehyung please that he’s brought out of his reverie.

“Please stop teasing me,” you whimper but don’t urge him to move, instead opting to grip at his arm with weak desperation.

“Anything for you, my love,” he murmurs, quickening his pace. Your cries increase in volume at his faster pace, your grip also tightens on his arm, clinging onto his robe.

“F-fuck,” you cry out helplessly. “Taehyung it feels so good!”

“Tell me, love,” Taehyung grunts, his lips ghosting on the shell of your ear. “How long has it been since you’ve felt like this?” he whispers. “Been fucked like this?”

It’s guttural, the way his words leave him as if the idea of you being with anyone else is appalling. He nips at your ear when you fail to give him an answer, sending shivers down your spine. When you open your mouth to answer, all that comes out are broken pants.

“Answer me,” Taehyung demands, hand cupping your cheeks to make you face him.

“N-never,” you cry out. “Only you make me f-feel this way,” you manage, voice breaking.

“Hmm,” Taehyung hums, pleased. “It’s shameful that you have to give yourself to those dogs when they can’t even treat you right,” he slams into you. “Make you writhe like this,” he twists his hip, making you gasp. “Have you come undone like this.”

“Tae-hyung,” you hiccup. “I can’t hold on—”

“Not yet,” he says, pulling out only until his head is nestled inside you. “You come when I say you come,” he grits, slamming his length back in until he’s filled you to the hilt.

“Can you do that, love?” he asks, pressing harder into your warmth. “Can you hold on?” he teases, running his thumb over your incredibly sensitive clit.

You gasp when his thumb presses harder onto your sensitive bud, biting your lips to hold try and control the sheer amount of pleasure hurdling you towards your release.

“It’s t-too much,” you stutter. “Please, I can’t.”

“You will,” he replies easily, teeth grazing your neck and the feeling brings pinpricks of fear rise against your skin, sending a new wave of arousal course through you. Taehyung’s never fed from you, its something that Madame is strictly against. It’s still a shock that she allowed a vampire through the door as it is, but feeding is something she would not excuse. It’s surprising that regardless of the rule, Taehyung has never tried to breach it. Even though he’s expressed his interest in such lewd, almost sadistic acts, he’s never once even mentioned his desire to feast on you. He’s never as much as paid attention to your neck before. Another nip to your skin has you shuddering, it’s taking all self-control not to fall apart beneath him like this, and you’re sure he can sense it too. With another sharp twist of his hips, you ultimately lose control as hot waves of pleasure jolt through you, igniting every cell in its wake. You’re crying out, a string of incoherent words stumble out of your mouth as your thighs twitch at the shocks of your release. Taehyung hisses at the sudden clenching of your walls but doesn’t relent on his almost bruising pace as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

When your breathing slows down and your vision comes back into focus, you whine at the oversensitivity. “Tae, please,” you let out. “It hurts.”

“Hmm, does it?” Taehyung asks, chuckling but does not slow down his pace. “What did I tell you?” he punctuates his question with a sharp thrust, making you gasp.

“T-to be p-patient.”

“And,” he says, voice a little strained. “Were you?”

“N-no,” you groan, finding purchase on the sleeves of his robe.

“No, princess,” he grunts out, fingers reaching to brush over your clit once more. “You weren’t.”

You immediately jump at the added jolt of pleasure that follows his movements, you feel yourself unraveling once again, involuntarily clenching around his cock. His hips stutter at your tightening. “God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he grits through clenched teeth. He grips your leg and hikes it even further up, making him nestle even deeper inside you. You’re all but wailing at that point, blubbering at the sheer strength of his thrusts.

“M-master!” you scream. “F-feels so, so, good,” you cry out, your vision going in and out of focussing from the pleasure. You keep your eyes on him, noticing how his brows furrow in concentration, the way his pupils are now a deep shade of ruby, not a drop of gold in the iris. His fangs have also elongated, peeking out as he bites down on his lips. He lets out grunts every time he pushes into you, moaning out your name, you notice how his lips find purchase near your neck before he pulls out again. His thrusts become a little less calculated as he begins to lose control, so lost in the feeling of you.

“Taehyung,” you call, voice weak and rough. It’s when you manage to rest your hand on his cheek that he pauses briefly. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you in question.

“I-” you begin, struggling to get your words out under his scrutinizing gaze. “I want you to do it,” you let out, shifting so your neck is bared to him. “Please,” you add when you notice hesitation cross his eyes.

"I trust you."

The internal dilemma he's facing is short-lived when he pulls you into a heated kiss, beginning to lightly thrust into you again. You whimper against his lips but fervently kiss into his mouth, hands reaching to tug his hair. When you pull away for air, he kisses down your jaw, sucking lightly when he reaches your neck. Teasingly nipping the flesh but not breaking the skin. He picks up speed once more, hitting you as deep as he can, making you writhe once more. You groan, eyes rolling in the back of your head once he begins to roll your clit between his fingers. You're whining into his ear, holding on for dear life as he bites and licks at the juncture of your neck. The grunts that escape him are anything but human at this point, spiking fear and excitement in your veins which only begins to rile him up even more.

"Taehyung," you sob. "Fu-uck, I'm coming, I'm coming," you blindly chant which only makes him pick up the pace, assaulting your clit even faster.

It's when you feel his teeth finally break skin makes you still as stinging pain spreads down your arm, immobilizing you but soon enough, it morphs into something different. You find yourself chasing the pain, angling your head so Taehyung has even more room to plunge his teeth in your veins, he moans in return, the taste of you driving him insane. Soon enough, the tightening of the coil in your belly finally snaps and you feel yourself hurdle to the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced. His thrusts pound into you at an inhumane pace but you can't feel anything anymore, too lost in the utter euphoria, veins vibrating in bliss. Taehyung groans, teeth still latched onto the juncture of your neck as his hips dig into you, halting when his seed spills into you. You flinch when he finally removes his teeth, opting to gather the blood trickling out of the puncture wound. You relish in his tender kisses, feeling light-headed from the blood loss. When he pulls away to look at you, you give him a lazy, half-lidded smile.

He pulls out of you slowly, making sure you feel no discomfort before laying you back down.

"Are you okay, my love?" he timidly asks. "I wasn't too rough was I?"

You shake your head stiffly. "You were perfect," you study his features. His face, now, looking more lively. The maroon of his eyes replaced with stark gold that shimmered in the pale moonlight. Your eyes fall to his lips, stained red from your blood and without thinking, you pull him into an open-mouthed kiss, the metallic taste invading your senses. The kiss is slow and lazy, unlike the tryst the two of you had mere moments ago. He chuckles when you try to roll him over, easily heeds your movements and rests your head on his chest.

You sigh into his chest, his cool skin easing your overheated body.

"Love?" Taehyung asks after a few moments of silence go by. You peer up in curiously, silently beckoning him to continue.

"Thank you," he says, voice small. "For before."

He doesn't need to explain himself for you to understand what he’s referring to. You nestle into his chest once more, sighing deeply until you're comfortable. "You don't need to thank me," you respond, mumbling into his skin but you know he can hear you just fine. "...I liked it," you meekly say, shying away in the comfort of his chest even more. You feel his chest move as he laughs lightly, pecking the top of your head before pulling you even closer into his embrace.

"How did I find someone so perfect," he mumbles low enough so you can't hear him.

You're so sluggish after the night's events that you don't even question that Taehyung has spent the entire night in your arms. It's not common for clients to stay after you're done with a job. Taehyung usually stayed to make sure you were okay because you'd usually be ready to sleep for the next twelve hours but he never stayed for this long. That's why you're genuinely surprised to find him gently waking you up.

"My love," he whispers when you sleepily groan. "As much as I want to spend all my time with you, I must leave before daybreak."

You whine a little, blearily blinking up at him, still exhausted from before. Even though you'd much rather stay tangled in his arms, you shift so you're not laying on top his chest anymore.

"When will I see you next?" you ask after he quickly stands up.

He leans close to brush the hair out of your face, leaving a gentle kiss on your lips before he smiles. "I'll be back before you know it."

You nod a little, slowly closing your eyes, and when you open them, he's gone.

#btssmutclub #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btswriterscollective #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #vampire taehyung #taehyung scenario #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung #bts

815 notes · View notes

kimmyvanity · 3 years

Text

Memoir

Preface

This is my memoir in reference to an evanescent life-time of my past. Time glides in serenity or in chaos, but no matter what, this little occult thing pulverizes my indelible memory into fragments as its span stretches towards an infinite end-- once I thought I would never forget each remark, occasion and mood involved in that event, time proves that I was wrong. For the purpose of mustering them, I begin writing my piece-meal memory down. Through the course of flashback, the demeanors and remarks of some reluctant people are rewinded and ruffles my psyche strikingly; the voice-- once billowed in my head but eventually succumbed to the magic of time, murmuring in the distance lasts for certain hiatus, and has been frequently heard over by the harmony of transient delight and gradually turned into silence-- now revives. I don’t want to forget this unforgettable piece of my life, and written words can assist me to reassemble them.

Part One

I was born into a family of uniqueness and abnormality, which consists of a noncommittal and occult father, a stubborn and crotchety mother, a stepsister and a stepbrother of mine. No further extension to my other families or relatives is needed, albeit my grandma and uncles shall be included in account for their care for me. But I decide not to do so, due to the minority regarding their impact on me may not be that palpable and profound to be discussed if I am prone to explain the adverse force driven by my milieu to my pessimistic attitude towards life and human beings.

My parents have never married. The absence of wedding and honeymoon pictures in the house has not just once drawn me into the doubt: have they ever married or have they divorced already and never informed me? Surely this wasn’t the only sake for me to call out this question, the long period of separation, and the aura of awkwardness whenever they met each other also conceived me with such an idea, they were deluding me and preventing me from an earth-cracking naked truth, but I must and will dig it out.

Each time they met, spit and tears, two things comprising saltiness and bitterness would be produced, I didn’t overhear much about the topic when they argue, but I bet the true driving force to those intense arguments were never the event they had dissension upon, it was something ineffable and obscure, and certainly couldn’t be comprehended by me at that age--maybe hitherto or never will I understand, maybe, maybe…

One day, after another explosive argument and conflict between my mom and I. She began to intimidate me again with the statement of sending me to my father’s company. I was in 5th grade, if my hippocampus is not fooling me right now. Barely my soul and body were integrated together, everyday’s consecutive and pointless arguments arose from daily triviality fatigued and exhausted me. I locked the door of my room, she tried to kick it open and pull me out from the room, my fear and disappointment exacerbated with the thundering racket made by the kicks, my mind bursted: don’t open the door! My heartbeat wasn’t at a normal rate I was sure, finally she gave it up and called my grandma-- the only person who makes me sense unconditional love and empathy. My grandma soon arrived, she tried to knock the door open or exhort me to open the door, I refused, then I heard a frequent pounding as a result of my grandma’s lost temper. Alright, now, no one really wanted to help me out of this whirlpool, my grandma was also jaded with those shitty things. But eventually they calmed down, and we arrived at compliance that I would open the door and have a peaceful talk with them and they would not send me to my father’s company. Another reason that I was so scared was because my mom actually has indeed threaten me with a huge traditional Chinese knife once in the mid of night, possibly because I didn’t want to take a shower, though I know I smell bad, or I didn’t want to go to bed, and fazed her to stay up with me. I rushed to the bathroom, and locked the door instantaneously. I stepped into the bathe, and tried to find something long and sharp which might protect me from the threat of death. I welled up without a sob, tears all over my face, I wasn’t even in my pants, well still had my panties on, but still in a quite whimsical and wistful situation. I didn’t know how long it took for her to finally calm down, and tried talking me out, I declined with fear, I requested her to put everything sharp on the lodge, or I would rather sleep in the bath with the door deadly shut. She did so but I still didn’t come out, she went to bed in silence, it was summer, daily 8 hour long nap till 14:00 or 15:00 and lying awake in my bed watching TV shows made me hardly fall asleep till the dawn of the next day morning. She had to work because my father stopped giving us the necessary budget for living since I was in third or fourth grade. Obviously, that was one of the arguing points they had come up with. It was so complicated, my father gave my mother a quite decent amount of money when I was little, and it was so called our alimony as my father insisted; however, as my mom stated, it was the bonus share credited for her contribution to the company. Well, I was confused by that, but one matter-of-fact was that my father asked my mom to lend 80 percent of the money to one of their friends. That was one of the major mistakes my mom had made, she signed her name on the IOU, yes, which means she became the creditor instead of my father. I didn’t know how the thing fermented and evolved into a irreversible way, when their friend didn’t pay back in the past due time, and for both of their reputation or vanity among their clique, they decided not to force him, but my mom and I were in need of that money to sustain our life, she didn’t have a job, she used to go to company to help accounts but after a shareholder of the company past away due to heart attack, she barely went to the company anymore. And it was totally another story. One important part of this was I was also being told not to visit, therefore my father and I had a 2 year long not-seeing-each-other hiatus. Anyway, we really needed that money, otherwise we would starve to death, but my father thought it was my mom’s fault to lend the person money, he told my mom, if she wanted to afford the living of both of us, she could sell the house. WTF was this rubbish? What the hell was wrong with him? Was he trying to make us to the point of homeless and starvation? I couldn’t comprehend this, was there hatred between him and my mom, and I was an innocent victim in this event? I didn’t know, and I still don't know. We used to travel to Beijing and Australia together with my stepbrother, it was a fun time. I didn’t feel much resentment or awkwardness between them, I didn’t know why things got this bad. I knew all of those when I heard their ear-blowing quarrel in the living room, I hided in my bedroom, my grandma was living with us by that time, my mom asked my grandma to buy something for her, I went out and begged to go along, and they refused, until now, I still don’t understand why the mother-fucker they didn’t allow me going along with my grandma, then I wouldn’t be listening to their quarrel combined with aggressiveness and hatred, sometimes I really think that soundproof of a house is one of the most monumental components in a house ever, it prevents a whole lot of things from someone innocent. In fact, I didn’t hear anything but the yells, I was so sad, and cried on my bed with my hand over my eyelids, it was a cloudy afternoon, I had my curtains closed, barely the sunshine permeated my room, I half lied on my bed, I didn’t know what to do I fell asleep with a severe headache. And I woke up, I couldn’t tell what time was it, my eyes were inflated like two balloons hanging on my face which I was sure, my headache didn’t abate, it was worse, but I felt much better since the quarrel had ended, I walked out of my room. I didn’t know what happened next, I was found to be really sick, my body temperature wasn’t showing I was in good shape, we went to the doctor, and I totally forgot what happened next.

That was the first time, and next time he came, I learned to pacify myself with TV shows, because then I didn’t have to hear them anymore. He didn’t live with us since I was born because of work, but he would come back home several times a week, and it was fine for me, many families were in that situation, and every time he came, he would bring some snack he brought from Japan while he was on errand. Everything was just fine.

Anyway back to the earliest point, I opened my door to my grandma and my mom, they came in, I was hiding in my blanket, I was ashamed to see my grandma, by that age to concern about those shitty things which she supposedly never confronted, she is such a nice person, I haven’t heard a single curse word slipped through her lip. She has never done anything bad to anyone, she is such a helpful and kind person. I don’t understand. They sat down by my bed, I stared at them, again, my father was brought up, and I finally demanded a question which lingered in my mind for a long while: have you guys ever married? My mom was in shock for just a second, and she regained her calm soon. In all lexical squabbles, she told me NO, they never got a chance to marry. What does that even mean?

I know my English is broken and wacky, I just want to write something about my insights and feeling.

1 note · View note

docholligay · 4 years

Text

Sleep, Sleep

I’m working on a real thing that is for a patron but it’s going slowly because *gestures vaguely* so please enjoy this shitty hurt/comfort I wrote to soothe myself. 1770 words, all of this universe is here for timeline or whatever

Fareeha Amari was not in the business of shirking responsibility. When she felt she had failed, she was the first to mark ways she could improve, and she was the first to notice the same in others. It was not so much that Pharah sought fault so much as she sought improvement, and the beginning to fixing a leaky roof was finding where the leak came from. But, on a handful of occasions in her life, she could simply admit that it had been a bad day.

Sitting in a Talon cell, half out of her mind with the pain of torture and the exhaustion of resisting it, she could admit that it had simply been, one of those days.

They had only been here two days entirely, Pharah thought. She had tried very hard to keep mark of the time. It was so easy to lose it, in these moments. Moira was helping her, she supposed. She kept a tight schedule, and if much of that schedule relied on when and how she chose to experiment on she and Tracer, well, at least she knew when tea time was.

A more straightforward sort of torture, Pharah might have been able to bear better. But it wasn’t torture, not for information. Other people might care about that--the monster that had once been Gabe certainly got in their face enough--but Moira did not. It was experimentation, and even if they told her every secret they knew, it would not stop. Moira herself pretended little different.

It would go on until they were rescued or died, and at least that gave them little reason to give any information at all.

She sat the edge of the small cot provided to them. Tracer lay at the top of it, trembling, her body jerking every so often against her will. Pharah looked away from her. She told herself it was out of respect for Tracer’s general dignity, but even half-mad she knew it was a lie. She simply could barely stand to look. She hadn’t looked down at the stump where her metal arm should rest, either. It hurt. She knew it must look terrible. No reason to make it worse with visual acknowledgement.

“F’reeha?” Tracer’s voice was soft and wobbling, ““‘M a bit poorly. I think.”

“You need to stop goading her,” Pharah shook her head, “Just lie still, and quiet. They will find us.”

“What, and let ‘er come after you? Fuck off, then.”

Tracer had the unique gift of being able to irritate a human being better than a mosquito at the ear, and she had employed this to great effect in Moira’s lab. She tortured them in tandem, which was a unique technique, if she meant to get anything from them, but perhaps it was that she knew the effect of seeing the other dissembled bit by bit was its own brand of horror.

Pharah had not gotten the worst of it, because Pharah was not medically interesting. Certainly, she had Winston’s unique set of sensors in her shoulder, where a fully functional arm had been installed, but she’d seen enough of that with McCree. Pharah was fine, but Tracer was the real toy, and it didn’t hurt that Tracer was very good at making someone want to hurt her. And Moira had. She had taken great pleasure in it.

Even Pharah herself, constantly surprised by her own emotions, had not understood what an effective method of torture it would be for her.

Pharah lay her hand on Tracer’s leg. She could feel the twitch running though it.

“Rest.”

Pharah was not the most verbose human on her best day, and this was certainly not her best day. She wanted to tell Tracer it would be all right, that they would come and Mercy would mend what Moira had damaged. But who could know if it was true? Pharah had many faults, she thought, but she was not a liar. She wanted to tease Tracer, to set her at ease, but the words would not come. Pharah was more steel than anything else, in difficult times, and so her words were firm, and decisive, and formal, whatever she tried. It was a comfort, like a child’s blanket.

A shock ran through Tracer, and she gasped, her back arcing against the cot. Pharah moved to her, and closed her eyes with the sharp, bright pain that moved through her body as she did so. She took a few deep breaths, did her best to ignore it, and rubbed Tracer’s shoulder until her body let her relax again, what could have been ten seconds but felt like hours.

Tracer opened her eyes just a little, and looked up at Pharah.

“We may want to consider the outside possibility I won’t be making it to the debriefing.”

“You cannot. That would leave me sole leader of Overwatch. Do you want that on your conscience?”

Tracer cracked a weak smile. “Not me first choice, no, but” she swallowed, “But this isn’t what I expected to ‘appen, love. Didn’t know it would do this, it’s nothing like when I...anyhow, if I do...If I do..”

“Stop,” Pharah looked away from her and sighed, “I am not your errand boy. We are in pain, and we are tired.” She gave a chuckle, “And longing for the days when torture meant being beaten.”

“God yes, “ Tracer closed her eyes, “love to be cracked across the jaw just now.”

Pharah nodded, her hand still on Tracer’s shoulder. “When we escape, when they come for us, because, you see, I am an optimist. Not like you, who thinks Winston would leave you to die here.”

“Don’t bloody bring ‘im int--” Tracer shuddered and tamped down a squeal of pain into a small squeak. “Oh Fareeha, I’m…”

“A pessimist, yes.” she moved up her hand, gently rubbing the hair at the back of Tracer’s head, “I can see that. But when we escape, when we are saved, and you heal, because, remember, you have so many times before.”

“Right,” Tracer gave a little nod and swallowed, “born under a lucky star.”

“When you heal, I will take you to your horrible little pub, and play darts, and attempt to understand anyone in that godforsaken place.”

Tracer gave a laugh, weak and small, but genuine, and Pharah grinned.

“And I will fail. You know that, of course, and you will have to order for me. Again.”

Tracer’s eyelids fluttered open, her vision hazy but more for Pharah’s benefit than anything. “It’s not as Isla can’t understand you, you know, it’s just the other way round.”

Pharah shook her head. “I know you have some sort of magic word, for when all I want on this earth is a light beer.”

“Right, and it’s ‘go somewhere else.’”

Pharah ruffled her hair. “It’s sometimes easy for me to understand what Moira sees in you.”

Tracer giggled. “Me own personal brand of charm, innit? Going to be a right shame when I can’t share mese--”

She gasped, and let out a cry as her body twisted into one terrible contraction.

“Lena!” Pharah went to move the arm that wasn’t there, and a wave of nausea and pain went through her, but she pushed it to the side, using her good arm to scoop Tracer onto her lap. Tears ran down Tracer’s face as she struggled to breathe against the spasm, Pharah unable to do anything but watch, and hope that her touch offered some comfort.

Watching her lit a fire in Fareeha Amari, a deep coal seam of hot anger than would not dissipate until her child was nearly grown. She would nurse it and feed it, and never apologize for it, and it would take her years to remember that it had been lit in this exact moment. She never had a friend quite like Tracer, and she never would, because who could be said to be like her at all? And Moira had tortured her like a cat playing with a mouse, and Pharah would remember this, always.

It released Tracer, and she lay panting on Pharah’s lap. A few moments passed, just the two of them nestled together, in a cold and dark cell, the dire nature of their situation hanging over them like a shadow.

Tracer could not go on like this for too much longer, Pharah knew. Whatever Moira had done to her had hurt her badly, and she needed help. Pharah knew, in the same way, that Tracer would fight and snipe at Moira to her last breath, even if it accelerated its coming. Tracer could stop fighting like the sun could stop rising in the morning. She was a terrier to the bone.

But she believed herself, that the team would be looking for them. D.Va was a natural leader when called upon, Winston would hardly stop looking for Tracer, McCree was constantly looking to be made useful, and even the newer team members had nothing but fondness for Tracer, and maybe even Pharah herself.

Mercy, of course, would never leave Pharah behind. She knew that like she knew the moon still sat outside that cell, watching.

“Fareeha…”

“Rest now.” She arranged herself carefully, and pulled Tracer up to her shoulder, leaning against the wall, and wrapped her arm around her. “You want to be fresh to spit in Moira’s face.”

“Love you, Fareeha”

“Shut up.”

She held Tracer close and began to hum and then sing, some Arabic lullaby drawn far from her childhood, though she couldn’t even remember where or when. Who would have sung to her? Maybe she was something better than the sum of her childhood experiences, or maybe there was a tenderness inside her she did not know, or maybe she had grown into something that could give a softer and sweeter fruit, but in any case, she chose to think of it little in the moment. There would be time later, to wonder where it came from.

Tracer could not have possibly understood the song, but it sank deep into her, and Pharah felt her sink against her shoulder as she slept, the words carrying her along and comforting her.

Later, Pharah would not know how long she sang, or when she fell asleep herself, or even exactly when help came. This part of her life, these next few days, would be a blur, scattered with only moments of clarity. This would be true for all of her very long life. But she would remember the song, and she would remember the flickering lights and long shadows, and she would remember that she had been, a good friend.

#I'm still working on the sother one #I just...need a break to step outside #and breathe

33 notes · View notes

monokrxme · 4 years

Text

obe | kim namjoon

what would you do if you woke up in someone else’s body?

••••••••••••••••••

I can say this now after finishing the promotions...I felt powerless.

But we said to ourselves, like a spell,

"We should be happy"

"We have to smile"

I said that to the members over and over again,

"If we don't, our fans will lose their drive, and their passion"

Well about the concert...

It's tough I feel powerless. We prepared a lot of things in order to focus on us. We practiced incredibly hard. We feel frustrated.

This time, I feel so sad and frustrated for not being able to see you all in person.

It was tough...

It will be tough, for the time being, but....

I love you.

I love you deeply,

I love you all so much, to the furthest extent of what I know about love and what is possible...

•••••••••••••••••••••

I sighed softly as Namjoon ended the VLIVE with a soft "I love you all" and his signature good-bye kiss to ARMYs. I exited out the app, going through my app notifications and turning off the ones from Twitter for the night since those always go off the most while I'm asleep.

Once that was finished I plugged my phone in on the charger, set it beside my pillow and rolled over onto my right side, snuggled in the blankets as I tried to go to sleep.

But that was the issue. I couldn't.

Namjoon's words kept ringing in my head and I couldn't help but let my eyes shed a few tears; they too were so upset and frustrated that they could not show ARMYs everything that they had prepared for this long-awaited comeback.

Due to the rampant spread of the COVID-19 virus, many countries have taken precautions in order to prevent the spread of the illness. Some of these precautions have included limiting travel in and outside of said countries, as well as a limit or cancellation of public events in an attempt for people to avoid large crowds.

Because of this when it came to performance shows, artists had to perform without live audiences. To know that the boys missed ARMYs as much as we missed them tore my heart apart.

They have always given their all for ARMYs and have often been much too hard on themselves if they felt they had "failed" or disappointed us in some way. We always did our best to reassure them but BTS always felt the need to try harder for us in an effort to redeem themselves. It was as if they wanted to reaffirm the strong bond that ARMYs shared with them...

If only they knew truly how much we loved and supported them. Mistakes and all.

I sighed heavily as my heart filled with discontent at the thought of the boys being unhappy, but they were human too and were entitled to their emotions and desires just as much as anyone else was.

Hell, ARMY would argue they deserved the entire world and then some, fuck, the entire damn universe. I smiled softly at that thought, me being one of the millions of our beautiful family who also believed this and allowed my eyes to close as my eyelids grew heavy and droopy, sleep washing over me slowly like an incoming tide.....

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

.......it felt lukewarm to the touch. Comfortable and inviting as it enveloped my body and slowly drew it from the shore and into the wide expanse of ocean......

......it was quiet, the nature kind of quiet, where you hear the soft lull of crickets and night bugs calling to each other, the distant hoot of an owl, prowling for its next meal, the gentle ocean breeze caressing the skin that was exposed to the air, whistling softly in my ears......

.......my nostrils tingled at the sharp, salty scent of the ocean, my body rocking to the rhythm of the baby waves that carried me further away from the shoreline.......

Y/N: 《Well this is lovely, my dreams have never looked like this before.....so calm and serene...》

My eyes flew open as I realized I had spoken this out loud to myself, though softly, as if not to disturb anyone. And by anyone I meant the delicateness of the quiet solitude that enveloped me ever so generously.

It was then I also realized that I was no longer in the comfort of my bed at home, but actually floating in the middle of the ocean, which had drawn me out several hundred yards away from the shore. My heart started to pick up speed in my chest as panic slowly set into my mind, my sense of reason and calm collectness fighting against it viciously.

Y/N: 《Don't panic Y/N. Nothing good comes from panicking...the real question is how I got here in the first place...?》

I thought this to myself as I swallowed nervously, my mouth having built up saliva quite suddenly from my anxiousness.

And yet, just as quickly as I had felt the lump of panic forming in my throat and my limbs growing rigid from fear, it was immediately washed away once my eyes glanced up at the sky.

It was a breathtaking sight; not a single cloud in the sky, the color of a deep, rich blue-black ink, splattered with millions upon millions of twinkling white stars, like dazzling jewels that shimmered in the sunlight. But what was most stunning was the moon; it was full and shining magnificently, the white gleaming starkly against the soft hues of the gray that scattered its surface, a soft moonlight cascading down gently to sparkle on the surface of the water.

I was so enamored by this astonishing nighttime scene, as if it were something out of a movie. A rom-com to be exact, where the moonlight seems to bring out the deepest, hidden desires of intimacy that the protagonists yearn to share with one another. Even though those scenes were cheesy, they were always my favorite ones and always managed to bring a tears to my eyes.

I smiled softly, allowing my eyes to languidly follow the moonlight's path, basking in its afterglow, when my eyes widened in shock and disbelief; where the light ended exposed yet another floating body in the water. This person was also still, but since they were a couple yards off, I couldn't tell if they were conscious or not.

Instinct kicked in and before I knew it, I was swimming towards them, with a purpose but not to disturb the tranquility of the atmosphere around us. For all I knew, even if this was a dream, if this person awoke in a panic they'd drown in seconds. Once I did manage to catch up to them, their body had floated out of the moon's glow, thus their face was obscured in the dark where the light couldn't reach.

Keeping my legs in motion underwater to keep me afloat, I gently grabbed this person's hand and slipped my other one under the water to firmly grip their ankle and pull them into the light to identify them.

It was as I crept closer to the light I realized I was nude. Stark naked. And so was this person, who I was able to see was a male, and you can assume why.

With a burning cheeks and a flustered state, I finally managed to pull this unknown man into the luminescence of the moon. When I looked at his face my heart stopped, literally, it was as if the wind were knocked out of me and I had forgotten how to breathe.

It was none other than Kim Namjoon, otherwise known as RM of BTS. Naked. Wet. And glimmering in the limelight of the moon, in the middle of an ocean that I wasn't even sure was real or not.

It was suddenly very cold as a wave of goosebumps crawled across my flesh, the blood roaring in my ears as I stared at him, wide-eyed and in awe, my heart thumping crazily in my chest as fast as a hummingbird's wings.

Y/N: 《T-There's no way.....I MUST be dreaming. There is no way in hell Kim Namjoon is floating in the middle of the ocean, naked at that, in front of me...》

I hugged my arms to cover my exposed chest, my body shivering as a cool breeze blew through, lifting some of Namjoon's hair up and away from his face. My heart fluttered momentarily, which I tried to deduce as being a fangirl's-heart-flutter, but I couldn't help but smile softly; he looked so peaceful. Calm. Serene. Without a concern, worry, or responsibility on his mind. His dragon's eyes now delicate slits as his eyes fluttered slightly behind his closed eyelids, his cute little button nose looking bedazzled under the moonlight, his plump, luscious lips, parted slightly as he breathed softly in his slumber, his toned chest rising and falling with each rhythmic inhale and exhale.

Without a thought I quietly took his hand that had been floating listlessly by his side; despite the water having gotten cooler, his hands were warm and inviting. His long, delicate fingers and large palms set on elegant wrists.

It was, as soon as I my fingers grazed his, that his eyelids fluttered open.

Our gazes locked and my heart stopped momentarily once more, but this time, began beating again, slowly and deeply. The sensation overwhelmed me, but in a good way. I wasn't scared, but rather tranquil, as if a huge, unknown weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

His fingers, unexpectedly, interlocked with mine once he sensed my hand in his through the water. I felt this instant shock throughout my entire body, pinpricks of electricity sparking at my fingertips and flooding throughout my body with a soft buzz. He inhaled sharply, which told me he felt it too.

When our eyes meet, something unfamiliar flashed across his gaze, as if he knew me but couldn't remember who I was.

Y/N: 《That's impossible. He's not going to know who I am. He's an international superstar a part of the biggest boyband in the world right now. I'm only a fan out of millions more, he won't----》

NJ: Y/N?

My eyes widened in shock as I heard Namjoon's voice fill my head, cutting off my thoughts.

But before I could ask him how he knew my name, I felt my body being submerged under the coolness of the water, a bright white light flooding my vision and then..........darkness.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

My eyes shot open again as I gasped for air, my arms waving frantically in front of me as I tried to catch my breathe.

My heart was hammering in my chest as my breathe came out ragid, as if someone had just resuscitated me after drowning. I sighed heavily as I felt my hair was drenched in sweat, dripping down the back of my neck. I rubbed my face with my hands momentarily when....

Y/N: 《These.....aren't my hands....!!!》

My eyes shot open, my heart stopping momentarily as I held "my" hands in front of me.

I was right.

My hands were smaller and more pudgy/slim, not these large, palms with....with delicate fingers......on elegant wrists.......

I leapt out of my bed, feeling an.....appendage that has never been there before, hit my leg, my hand, even though it wasn't mine, flying to cover my mouth in shock and disbelief at the sensation.

Y/N: 《Was that a...I mean my.....di-?? No. There's no way. I must still be dreaming. That's right, I just need to go along with it that's all, maybe even throw some water on my face to wake the real me up....yeah, that'll do the trick....》

I straightened myself out and inhaled deeply, walking towards an open door that I only presumed was the bathroom. Luckily I was right and walked in, leaving the light off for a few minutes as I washed my face, since I had just "woken up." Then, reaching along the right-hand side of the wall to find the switch, my fingers latched onto it, flipping the notch upwards, allowing light to flood the bathroom.

I raised my eyes to look in the mirror, half expecting to either see myself or this made up person my dream turned me into while I was actually still sleeping, like I believed.

I had to cover my, well his mouth to stop myself from screaming out loud.

The person staring back at me, in all of his fine ass glory, was none other than Kim Namjoon. Tall, dimpled, long hair and all.

With shaky hands I grasped the sink countertop and leaned forward, blinking several times to see if the reflection staring back at me would change.

Nope.

I even tried pinching myself, well him, until I brought tears to my-his eyes, the pain blossoming across my-his skin......

《The fact that I could feel the pain already explains it.....I'm NOT dreaming....this is real.....yet so fucking unreal......how the FUCK did I end up becoming Kim Namjoon???? IQ 148 genius? Dance Prodigy? Talented rapper, writer, producer, and composer? Leader of the Bangtan Sonyeondan???》

......................

《Could it have been---???》

Then it dawned on me. Memories of the "dream" I experienced last night flooded my mind. The ocean. The night sky. The moon. Seeing Namjoon's body, swimming to him, bringing him under the moonlight. Holding his hand. He woke up and our eyes met, electricity sparked when we touched and then I was suddenly deep under water and there was this flash of white light and-

"Now I'm here," I said out loud, but it wasn't my voice, but the deep, sultry tone of Kim Namjoon's.

I licked my- well Namjoon's lips, nervously.

"D-Did we-?"

Y/N: 《Switch bodies?》

#bts #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon one shot

4 notes · View notes

nevergiveupneverrun · 4 years

Text

Bodyguard - Chapter Forty-Five “Out of Body Experience”

Hello everybody, how are you? I’m so so sorry for not posting a chapter for a month but I was so busy with college and I didn’t have time. But now, I have two weeks break and I will post many chapters of this story. Here is chapter Forty-Five of my Story Bodyguard. I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

–––––––––––––––––––––––

“Your body will be your bulwark. But it can also lead you to your own loss.”

My head in my hands, sitting on the edge of my bed and staring at the floor, Nathan’s words echo in my head.

Words he said when I told him I would leave the specials forces to convert me into a bodyguard. Words that have a bitter flavor for me right now… like a premonition… like a prediction that eventually comes true.

My body as a bulwark indeed, my shield, the protection that I represented for those for whom I worked.

But potentially also my loss, by forgetting my mission, by revealing my weakness: my simple condition as a man.

The man with his desires.

Man with his seconds of distraction, inattention, vulnerability.

When everything changes.

When the guard of the professional is lowered.

My right-hand leaves my face and places on my leg, again covered with my pajama pants.

My eyes stay fixed on this hand.

On that part of me that started it all and was the first to give up.

- I’ll do better to find my room, she concludes with a quaver in her voice.

A voice that seems muted, devoid of hope and acts on me like an electric shock.

My right hand tightens on her thigh… preventing her from escaping.

To escape.

My fingers tighten slightly their grip against her skin going up against her waist, under my t-shirt, and the contact of cotton shorty is revealed under my skin.

Amelia’s head turns directly to me and her eyes express a deep surprise… and a hint of disbelief at my gesture.

But this image only appears to me for a few seconds, when the upper part of my body reacts in turn… without my reason having a say or expressing the slightest reservation.

As if the connections were blurred between my consciousness and my own body.

A spectatorial and helpless conscience facing a dominating body…

My face is actually close that of Amelia and my lips find hers and rekindle that sweet feeling that I had tasted before.

I detach myself after only a few seconds as if struck by the reality of what I had just initiated.

I observe, destabilized, the woman in front of me: her eyes shine in the dim light, but no longer a damp glow aroused by tears, but a scintillating reflection, dark but captivating.

Hypnotizing.

Bewitching.

I remain paralyzed, suddenly not knowing what to do or how to react.

But a contact quickly gets me out of this state.

Fingers soon slip in my neck and I feel a gentle pressure in my neck which leads me to lower my face again obediently…

My room is plunged in semi-darkness as the sun gleams pierce through the blind.

I close my eyes to refocus on the present moment.

I run my two hands against my eyelids, and I empty my mind for a few moments, detaching myself from this light announcing a new day… and the difficult reality that I will have to face.

A rustle behind me captures my attention.

I turn and the reality I was trying to deny appears bluntly to me.

She is there…

In my bed, lying on her stomach.

The sheet covers her very slightly and reveals a car part of her bareback.

Her skin seems to attract the few rays of the sun that come into the room: she sparkles almost a few inches from me.

Her hair is untidy and hides part of her face, while her left hand is stretched out towards the place I occupied a few minutes before as if she was looking for me… even in her sleep.

I look away, this image is difficult to accept, almost harder than memories… until I hear a weak sigh behind me…

A sigh of contentment rises in the room.

Intense heat and incomparable softness vibrate under my fingers.

My hand minutely explore the unknown but coveted territory that is finally within my reach: the silhouette of this woman, lying in my bed, a willing prisoner In my arms.

My lips have become one with hers for several minutes, until the urge to taste more is too strong and my tongue becomes insistent, making its way to discover hers and to fight sensually.

An indeterminate sound escapes from me and I find it hard to realize that I am the author… so much it is strangled to me… almost animal, but it intensifies under a caress that draws my neck, a caress that makes me boil from the inside.

My lips break away from hers, but don’t break their connection with her skin: my lips slide on her right cheek, then descend gently into her neck while I perceive her head to rise a little more as if to facilitate acmes and fully offer her neck to my kisses. My face plunges into her neck while my lips discover these new inches of skin that literally seem to vibrate under my kisses. My impression is reinforced by a long sight of pleasure that suddenly resonates very close to my right ear: my body reacts immediately and an intense heat spreads throughout my being until it reaches that part of me that has been dormant for long months… a part of me that wakes up completely under the effect of a hoarse and almost electrifying whisper.

- Owen…

My pulse is accelerating and I perceive my temperature going up a notch at the simple memory of these caresses and these moans of pleasure that I had caused.

I was completely spellbound and charmed a few hours ago by this sweet melody as if plunged into a parallel dimension.

A dimension where I was just a man… a man abandoning himself with a woman who was, however… forbidden but so…special… and completely irresistible a few hours earlier.

I recognize a feeling of anger rising in me in front of my weakness, my distraction.

The temptation had been visibly too strong.

Stronger than me.

My eyes get lost in the room until a burst of light captures my attention, a burst of silver as a ray of sunshine falls on the metal handle of my wardrobe…

A silvery shine…

Her fingers run through my hair.

Her sighs ring out against my ears.

Her body vibrates under my hands.

She then suddenly comes off, cutting the connection that my lips preciously kept with her skin.

The light of her blue pupils sparkles more than ever. She almost dazzles me.

I observe her as her fingers are placed delicately on my t-shirt which she uses as pajamas.

She pulls it up and removes the tissue from her body, leaving her naked in front of me, except for her shorty.

My gaze is directly attracted not by her exposed chest, but by a slivery shine, that of the key to the chalet which sits between her breasts…the piece of metal catching the gleam of light coming from the half-open door.

My fingers rise directly to touch this object and draw it precisely.

A hand soon covers mine and I immediately find the gaze of Amelia who stares at me, with a slight smile on her lips.

A shy even embarrassed smile.

I feel her fingers tighten my hand around the key then shift our joined hands a few centimeters, to place them on her left breast.

Against her heart.

Do you feel? It’s not bleeding anymore, she whispers, bringing her face closer to mine. Thanks to you…

I indeed perceive the beating of her heart under my hand: regular but strong against my fingers.

The coldness of the metal echoes under my skin in complete contrast to the heat that diffuses violently throughout my body, as I become fully aware of the image that stands out in front of me: Amelia, breast uncovered, look vibrant but slightly hesitant.

My hand suddenly wakes up and slides against her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin, while advancing her face a little more against mine.

A single word escapes me before I seal a kiss, marked by my heartbeat which synchronizes with hers.

- Gorgeous…

I get back on track with reality, chasing this moment from my mind. A particularly disturbing moment since I woke up… a moment of intimacy and tenderness like I had not experienced in a very long time.

My body is still hypersensitive as if inhabited by a new ardor that she would have been able to revive.

I lower my face again to the ground, watching the floor beneath my feet.

Observe, that’s what I did for much of that almost unreal night.

Unreal because I had lived everything in a second state, outside of myself, refusing a way out that had been unexpectedly offered to me.

Unreal because after the observation, I had completely changed my attitude: becoming an actor of events and even the initiator of what had happened.

The opposite of what my life has been for many years: a constant mastery, reserve, step back… and not the unconsciousness and spontaneity that had fully dominated me… surprising me myself… like during this interlude, only two hours ago…

My eyes blink slightly as I slowly regain consciousness after a few hours of sleep.

A movement then a presence is perceived against me.

- Hmm… what’s going on… I pronounce difficult, talking to myself.

- I’m a bit cold…

The thin voice that pierces the silence, takes me by surprise and I open my eyes.

I discover Amelia against me, pulling on the sheet which covers me perfectly but leaves her largely uncovered: my eyes are directly drawn to her breasts which she partly hides by sticking against me. I perceived the curved of her shapes marrying my side, this part of her body revealing to me this cold that she confesses… or would it be something else that provokes this reaction on this chest that I guess against me?

I become fully aware of this connection between us and I observe her for long seconds: I quickly feel a warmth become familiar again during this evening manifest.

An intense and violent desire overwhelms me.

Nothing left in my mind.

Just the touch and the softness of her skin against me.

Just pulsations and tremors.

And a body that vibrates for one thing.

And dictates my next action.

I lean towards her and steal her lips for a few seconds while sliding her under me.

I detach myself from her and she looks at me with an amused look.

- What are you doing? She breathes laughing.

I place a kiss on her neck while letting my hands caress her waist and find her thighs.

- I’m trying to warm you up, I whispered, smiling against her skin, my lips continuing their descend to her breasts.

I see her lefts shift, and I slide against her, while one of her legs goes up against me to keep me in this position. Encouraging me silently…

A position which clearly reveals to her the effect she can have on me in a few seconds… my intensely keen desire…

- You can surely warm me up a little more… she clarified with a smile.

And without hesitation, I react to her invitation and instantly connect us, by this intimate and unique link, marked by our mutual and simultaneous sighs…

What had taken me?

I’ve been obsessed with this question since I woke up just an hour ago.

The memory of that night leaves me with an oppressive impression.

The deepest misunderstanding takes hold of me: my attitude during these last hours seems to me so incredible in the proper sense of the term. I did not recognize myself, in this man who abandons himself thus to his most primary desires… desires which seem in the end much stronger than I suspected.

And the interlude which took place two hours ago is for me the most difficult to accept: because in this precise case, Amelia did not initiate anything, did not upset me by her distress.

She is in no way responsible for that.

I cause everything, triggered everything… blinded by the sensations and the waves of pleasure that flooded me… because too long repressed and channeled.

But I cannot deny reality or turn away from it.

I crossed the red line last night.

I made love to Amelia… several times.

Amelia who is none other than the woman I protect.

I made the most serious mistake of my entire career: spending the night with the woman who is none other than my client.

An unforgivable error.

Unrecoverable weakness.

But now what was I going to do?

How to manage the situation?

I could in no case maintain a relationship with her… because it was compromising my mission… but also quite simply because I was not able to bring her what she was looking for: I’m too tortured, unable to give her the love she expects, and she deserves more than anything to find it. But not with me.

I still haven’t figured out the dilemma I’m facing when suddenly a bell ring in the apartment.

I quickly realize that this is the signal announcing a visitor.

I go out as quickly as possible from the bedroom and find the living room: the sun floods the room and I realize that it is almost noon by looking at a clock on the wall.

I go directly to the videophone screen and I recognize Meredith at the entrance of the building.

- Yeah, hello? I asked shyly, surprised by my almost rocky voice.

- Owen?

I clear my throat quickly to answer her.

- Yes, good morning Meredith, I resume in an already clearer voice.

- Good morning Owen, I have a file for Amelia, as well as a package for her from the record company.

- Uh… Amelia is still sleeping… and I’m just getting out of bed too…

- Ah… but maybe I can just drop the package and the file, I won’t have time to come back until tonight.

I am a little hesitant, but I have no admirable reason to refuse her to come.

- No problem, I call the elevator and unlock the airlock.

- Thank you, Owen, see you!

I blow while moving away from the entrance and get a t-shirt that I had left in the bathroom to avoid receiving Meredith shirtless.

A different bell suddenly sounds, that of the front door this time.

I slip an eye through the peephole by reflex, then open the door with a creak, beckoning Meredith to enter.

- Hello, she repeats shaking my hand. It was a difficult night, I feel like, she adds worriedly looking at me.

I am a little taken aback by her question which spontaneously leads see to furtively remember the night I had just spent… but I quickly chase those moments from my mind and improvise a quick response.

- Yes, Amelia was more disturbed than she appeared yesterday by her return to Seattle, it brought back difficult memories.

- I can imagine, she replies in a whisper while advancing towards the living room table.

I notice that she has a package in her left hand and a file.

- I’ll leave the elements here, she continues. In the file, these are models that we wanted to offer to Amelia. And this package, Mark dropped it three days ago.

- Mark? I asked quickly, surprised by the mention of this name.

- Yes, Mark is also a singer signed in Amelia’s record label. Tonight he is organizing a party at home to celebrate his disc, his album has been on the rise for the past few weeks. He wanted to invite Amelia, I think he must have slipped an invitation card in this package and obviously something else but I don’t know what… but I promised to give it to Amelia if she came back in time to be there. I’ll let you explain it all to her?

- Explain to me what?

Meredith and I turn directly to the sound of that voice rising behind us. We discover Amelia, dressed in my t-shirt, her hair slightly messy and the face still marked by sleep.

- Sweetie, excuse me, I woke you up? Hastens to inquire Meredith as she approaches Amelia.

- I heard a little noise, but it’s time to get up visibly, specifies Amelia, rubbing her eyes in front of the sun which floods the room.

Amelia’s gaze then finds mine and I feel destabilized by her intensity and the spark that I read there. I’m too afraid to understand what I’m guessing. I feel uncomfortable and I have the impression of suffocating under this piercing gaze and the weigh of the context… of which I am the only creator.

I have to leave this room… as soon as possible…

- I leave you to chat both quietly, I announced while taking the direction of the corridor.

- Owen, you… You are not staying? Shyly asks Amelia, visibly surprised by my eagerness to slip away.

- I’ll take a shower. Meredith has things to explain to you, I justify by stopping for a few moments in my run-up, while immediately taking the path of the bathroom, and avoiding her gaze.

I walk with long strides and carefully lock the door behind me, once in the bathroom.

I sigh a long time, my back wedged against the wood of the door.

The reality was clear but most difficult to accept: I had ruined everything.

And what made me the sickest was that I was going to hate myself even more in the hours and days to come.

Because the next time I read the pain in her eyes, I’ll be responsible for it.

I was going to become a horrible being.

Because it was inevitable: I was going to make her suffer.

She was wrong.

I didn’t calm the bleeding from her heart.

On the contrary: I will revive them… intensely.

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading. Have a great week 💛

#greysanatomy #fanfic #Fic #omelia #omelia fanfiction #omeliafics #amelia shepherd #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #Owen Hunt #Meredith Grey #bodyguard

13 notes · View notes

rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: the thing with feathers, ch. 3

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Fēngmián & Yú Zǐyuān

Additional Tags: Transmigration, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars

Summary: The Lans arrive. QiRen's perspective.

Note: You get bitties! And hand holding! And grumpy old man perspective! So enjoy! This chapter draws off a scene in the donghua. Also, I am having a problem with shifting tenses, which is in part because my other fics are in present tense and I’m a dipshit who decided this one should be in past tense. Any mistakes are my fault.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

---------

Lan QiRen did not like the idea of taking his nephews with him to Lotus Pier, not if there had been an attack of resentful energy. But the fact that Jiang FengMian’s adopted son was calling for one of them in the throes of fever after the attack…

He had no idea how the boy could know WangJi, especially enough to call for him by his birth name. QiRen recalled the boy was CangSe SanRen’s son, named Wei Ying. The cultivation world had gossiped idly that his father must be Jiang FengMian for him to take the boy in, but such idle talk was more than likely ridiculous.

QiRen did not have the fondest memories of CangSe SanRen, but he would not leave a young child to suffer over a grudge against a dead woman—such grudges were forbidden, regardless. And truly his heart went out to a child who was orphaned so young. The decision to send help was immediate; his decision to join the retinue was carefully considered.

Ultimately, after passing duties to appropriate elders, he brought a contingent from Cloud Recesses that included his nephews, the head healer, and several accomplished musicians familiar with both songs of cleansing and those of healing.

While flying with children was usually something he would not consider, the message from Yunmeng Jiang had come on their swiftest flyer, and he had clearly exhausted his spiritual energy to speed the trip. This combined with the contents of the message made it clear time was of the essence.

QiRen himself was the most experienced flyer and thus insisted WangJi ride with him. Though XiChen had started to ride ShuoYue, Yunmeng was too far for the boy; he had the head healer, Lan ShiRong, carry him.

GusuLan was among the closest sects to YunmengJiang, and so the flight was relatively short. Of course, relatively short for a child was not so, but neither boy complained and QiRen praised both for their discipline during the flight. Dusk had already fallen, night quickly on its way.

They were immediately escorted by several disciples, one of whom broke off to fetch Sect Leader Jiang. The youths looked shaken and unsteady, but still performed their duties with efficiency. Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan had clearly trained them well.

FengMian met them at the main hall, greeting them with as much decorum as possible.

“Master QiRen, thank you for coming. I apologize for the lack of a proper greeting. In other circumstances, tea and conversation would be appropriate.”

QiRen waved the concern off. “The healers should see to the boy immediately. Please, lead us.”

He hadn’t seemed to notice the children, QiRen noted, and he could only assume the boy’s condition was not good for FengMian to overlook such a detail. Normally he would prefer to keep his nephews away from this sort of situation, but if this Wei Ying was calling for WangJi, it was best to determine how he knew of him sooner rather than later.

FengMian quickly led them to the infirmary, explaining along the way, “Healer Kang is trying to bring the fever down. He believes a-Ying’s body is fighting the resentful energy, but we have no way of knowing.”

He was leading them at a speed just short of a jog, and his voice betrayed his worry.

“‘Cleansing’ May help,” QiRen mused. “But Healer Lan will want to examine him as well—the damage that can be done by resentful energy cannot be taken lightly.”

Upon entering the healing pavilion, QiRen had to pause for a moment. The boy lay prone on the examining table, clad only in a light shift with cooling talismans affixed. Ugly scars marred his legs.

Even at his young age he looked so much like CangSe SanRen, it was almost painful to look at him. She had been a prankster, had shaved his beard while he slept, but she had been so full of joy and life and it had been a blow to learn the world had lost such a light.

A low moan from the boy had Healer Lan moving around him, hurrying to the patient, immediately starting to tap his hands across Wei Ying’s meridians in the practiced movement of one used to examining and healing qi. The child seemed nearly delirious, whimpering unintelligible murmurs, limbs twitching, tears streaking his face.

“The children were… upset with his condition. ZiYuan is keeping them away from the infirmary.”

QiRen turned to FengMian. “Your missive said he was calling a name.”

FengMian nodded to the Jiang healer, who gently removed a needle from the boy’s forehead. Almost immediately, he cried out, writhing and reaching out, and QiRen realized they’d had him sedated. Dangerous for one so young, but if he had been like this for hours...

“Lan Zhan. Please don’t leave me, Lan Zhan.”

The words were broken by sobs.

WangJi stepped forward, a strange look on his face. He seemed almost drawn to the boy, but QiRen was shocked when his nephew took Wei Ying’s hand. He could hear FengMian take a surprised breath, as though he had just realized who ‘Lan Zhan’ was.

“I am here.”

His nephew, who eschewed touch and rarely spoke, was doing both now.

The child’s eyelids fluttered, his face turning toward his voice, though his eyes never fully opened.

“Lan Zhan,” came out in a relieved whisper. “Don’t go.”

“I will not.”

There was a soft exhale, and the boy went still, his breath deepening.

The Jiang healer looked relieved at the change. QiRen could only guess this meant Wei Ying had likely struggled and cried out like that most of the time since the attack when not sedated.

“You recognize him,” XiChen said, the first he had spoken in hours, and QiRen noted it wasn’t a question.

“Yiling,” WangJi’s answered simply.

“Is he the one you gave the rattle drum to, a-Zhan?”

WangJi nodded.

QiRen remembered his nephew going missing for the span of about half an hour, and finding him without the toy, but he hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, too relieved to have found him. Clearly he had told his brother more. Somehow in that short time he had found Wei Ying and never spoken of it to him. If he had, QiRen could have acted.

“That was three years ago, WangJi,” QiRen murmured.

“Three years?” Fengmian looked pale. “I only found him just over a year ago. He was on the streets so long…”

No one really knew exactly when CangSe SanRen and her husband had died. Neither their bodies nor their weapons had been found, and though everyone knew they must have died it was only due to their disappearance.

QiRen knew FengMian had searched for a year before finding the boy, but knowing he had been subject to homelessness for at least twice as long was horrifying.

“WangJi is sorry. WangJi should have told shufu. Shufu would have helped.”

His nephew’s tone was more emotional than it had been since his mother’s death, his hand still holding Wei Ying’s. QiRen felt frozen, inept, unable to comfort the boy now just as he had failed then.

FengMian stepped forward, kneeling to come level to WangJi and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You would have if you had known he needed help, right?” he asked, his voice gentle.

WangJi nodded.

“Then you did all you knew to do. A-Ying won’t blame you for that. Your gift probably brought him joy.” FengMian offered a small smile. “We cannot change the past, young master. We can only strive to improve ourselves in the future.”

WangJi’s gaze moved to the scars on Wei Ying’s legs.

“He was hurt.”

“By dogs,” FengMian says softly. “Not by you.”

QiRen repressed the urge to wince. So many scars from dogs, living on the streets. The boy’s survival was a miracle.

WangJi only frowned, and QiRen was relieved when his brother stepped forward, smiling gently.

“A-Zhan, you can be a-Ying’s friend now and help him get better. He was calling for you, and you helped him already.”

That seemed to do the trick, mollifying WangJi, and his expression turned resolute. Of course XiChen would know—giving WangJi a task to complete would help him.

“Sect Leader Jiang?” Healer Lan interrupted. He was standing at the head of the examination table, his hands on Wei Ying’s temples. “The resentful energy seems to have… for lack of a better word, gathered in his head.”

FengMian stood, alarm apparent on his face, and QiRen couldn’t find fault in that; maladies of the mind were hard to treat, the complexities of the brain too little understood even in the cultivation world.

“We should start ‘Cleansing’ as soon as possible,” the healer continued, “to remove as much as possible, but also play songs of healing as well. The resentful energy is too thick to see what damage may have been done. The fever is his body trying to fight the invasion.”

QiRen nodded to the musicians to get started, then turned to his nephews. “We should have a repast and rest. It is nearly hai, and the journey has been long.”

To his surprise, WangJi shook his head, shifting closer to the examination table and Wei Ying.

“Promised. Won’t go.”

Stubborn. Why did the boy have to be so obstinate? QiRen could only be reminded of the habit only just broken—of WangJi kneeling in front of his late mother’s seclusion house every month, refusing to accept her death.

Truth be told, Qiren wasn’t certain it was wise to let WangJi get attached to Wei Ying, with his condition so uncertain. He mourned so deeply. But he knew it was too late the moment his nephew stepped forward to take the boy’s hand.

The Jiang healer stepped forward placatingly. “We have beds in the next room. If the young master wishes to sleep here, it could be arranged. A light meal can be sent for him.”

“Only your nephew has been able to calm a-Ying,” FengMian added. “His presence may comfort him if he wakes, or if the fever worsens.”

QiRen took a breath, finding his center and exhaling slowly. He could not make a liar of his nephew.

“For tonight. WangJi, you must abide the healers, and stay out of their way.”

He waited only for a nod of acknowledgement, then beckoned XiChen to the door.

#cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #lan qiren #lan zhan #lan wangji #lan xichen #jiang fengmian #wei wuxian #wei ying #chen qing ling

1 note · View note

carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 5 years

Link

Happy Birthday to @vkelleyart ! This is a gift fic for you based on the prompt for a character who is “unable to open their eyes for a few moments after a kiss” (I didn’t forget you liked that one!)

So here is a day in the life with SImon and Baz. Hope you enjoy it and enjoy your day!

Read at Ao3

In Between Days

Baz

It’s the fourth week in a row I’ve invited myself to the Bunces’ home. I can’t spend my weekends alone at Watford when I know Simon is just a few hours’ drive away.

It’s not like we don’t talk on mobile. Well, I talk. Simon mostly gives me monosyllabic answers and drawn out silences. But I get to hear the sound of his breathing and that calms me. I know it calms him too. I talk to him until he falls asleep most nights, until I can hear his breath puff in and out through the speaker (mouth breather).

Bunce usually takes his mobile from him once he’s asleep and then she tells me what Simon doesn’t: how he’s sleeping, if he’s eating enough. What goes on during his days with her, when I’m sitting in class—desperate to reach out to him—but forcing myself to translate interminably long passages of Greek for the Minotaur instead.

Father has let me have the Jag at Watford this term. I asked him for it near the end of the holiday break. He heard me out, when I made my request for it, his forehead creasing in concentration. “He’ll be alright with Martin and Penelope, Basilton. I’ve no doubt about that. And Wellby will make sure to check in on him as well. He’s awfully fond of the boy.”

“So am I.” My words came out as a whisper. It was the first time I’d been so open to Father about my feelings for Simon. I don’t regret saying it, no matter what his response.

It’s true and I’m done hiding.

Father’s hand gripped my shoulder briefly. “I know.”

My eyes darted to his. His expression eased and a hint of a smile quirked his lips. “I may be old but I’m not blind. It wasn’t hard to puzzle it out at Christmas.”

I could feel my ears go warm as what little blood I have rushed into them. I opened my mouth to make some retort but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t deny it.

And he didn’t seem perturbed by it.

“And if I had been too thick to notice then, it certainly wouldn’t have escaped my attention now. You’ve spent practically every moment driving down there to see him.” Father waved a hand at me, as if to forestall any comment on my part. “It’s understandable. The boy has been through the unthinkable.” He shook his head and his hand made an involuntary movement towards the inside pocket of his suit jacket, where he keeps his wand. “Simon needs the companionship of those who care for him.”

My mouth went dry. This was not the direction I expected this conversation to go. I should have known better than to underestimate Father’s powers of perception. He’s sharp and Daphne’s a natural empath, so I suppose it was inevitable that they would figure it out. I swallowed in an attempt to force some moisture to my mouth. “So, you’ll let me have the car?” I needed to get back to the point at hand. I wasn’t sure I could handle the intensity of a heart to heart at that moment.

Father nodded. “Yes, yes. You’ll try to figure out some other way to get to him if I say no.” There was an unexpected glint in his eye as he spoke. He must have appreciated my perplexed expression because he raised his eyebrows, shoved his hands in his pockets, and huffed an unanticipated laugh. “You know your mother and I started dating at Watford.” This was a startling topic. I’ve rarely heard him speak of those times. Most of my information has come from Fiona.

He kept speaking, eyes gazing off in the distance somewhere over my left shoulder. “Your mother would always come here for the summer and I would be in Suffolk.” His eyes darted to me again. “I know every possible route from the estate there to our door here.” He huffed again. “I can’t tell you how many times I asked my father to borrow the car so I could save time on travel and have more time to spend with Natasha.” He pulled a key fob out of his pocket and dangled it in the air between us. “I’ll not make you endure the vagaries of the British rail system the way he made me.”

I took the keys from his hand. “Thank you.” I meant it. I was in a state of shock, honestly. He’d been utterly nonchalant about my feelings for Simon, uncharacteristically forthcoming about his past with my mother, and so unexpectedly kind about it all. I put out my hand to shake his and he gripped it with both of his, for longer than usual.

“Don’t park it at the lot near the Wood. The snow devils are hell this time of year. The last thing you need is them messing about with the motor or pelting the car with chestnuts. If the Mage’s Men could park off the Courtyard so can you. Mitali should have no problem with it.”

Headmistress Bunce has had no problem with my car or my mobile. She reversed the technology ban as soon as she set foot on the grounds. Considering she had provided Bunce with a contraband mobile during eighth year, this did not come as much of a surprise to me.

I grab the key fob from my desk and make my way down the steps of Mummers. The snow is swirling with the wind but there’s not much to speak of on the car yet. It’s early still. It might be thick by the time I get back tonight.

I’ll have to come back tonight. The Bunces’ home is bursting at the seams with people. There’s no place for me to stay when I go. Simon theoretically sleeps on a cot in Bunce’s room though I think she lets him crash on her bed more often than not. She complains about his wings enough.

I’m envious.

I know Bunce and Simon are just friends. I’m not bothered about that. I just miss his presence in our room so much that it hurts. There’s an ache in my chest when I look at his empty bed.

I’ve left it all just as it was the day he bolted to come find me. Dirty trackies in the corner, an untidy pile of books on his desk, his wand on the table, his bed a rumpled mess.

Slightly more rumpled now because I’ve been curling up on it, inhaling the faint smoky scent of him it still holds.

The motorway is fairly empty this time of day. I’m not a morning person by nature but the earlier I get on the road the longer I can spend with Simon. I’ll forego a few hours’ sleep if I can spend those hours with him instead.

I texted Bunce before I left, so she’ll know to expect me. She’ll make sure Simon’s up and about. He used to always be up with the sun, the bloody git, blundering around the room. I’d wake up to the sound of him only to huff and groan in mock annoyance. I’d watch him from under my half-closed eyelids as he riffled through his papers, hunted under the bed for his shoes, shrugged on his uniform jacket.

Simon’s not such an early riser anymore. Bunce says he still wakes with the sun, on the nights he gets any sleep, but he’s not up and about. Not until she harangues him for a bit. Or more than a bit. She usually manages to chivvy him to the kitchen for breakfast but then he’s a lump on the sofa for hours after.

Thousand-yard stares. Long stretches of immobility on the Bunces lumpy sofa. Silent walks with me.

He was never one for many words, but in the time since the Mage’s death he’s been painfully laconic in his speech.

I know he’s still in shock. It’s so much to take in. Simon had so little to begin with and now he’s lost that. The Mage. Ebb. Wellbelove. His magic. Watford.

He’s still got Bunce.

And now he has me, for whatever that’s worth.

It breaks my heart that his world shattered, just as my fondest dream finally came true. I’m not sure I’m a worthy trade.

I rap on the Bunces’ front door when I arrive. The snow is thicker here, flakes swirling around my head as I stamp my feet to stay warm. The door flies open and Priya rolls her eyes at the sight of me. “Oh, it’s you.”

I follow her in, relishing the warmth that washes over me. Headmistress Bunce is seated at the kitchen table, tapping away at her laptop. “Basilton.”

“Headmistress.” She usually makes the trip home early Friday afternoon and heads back to Watford at first light on Mondays.

“They’re in Penny’s room. You know the way.”

I give a warning knock on the door before I lean in to take a look. Bunce is seated at her desk but her chair is spun around to face Simon. He’s sprawled out on his stomach, wings nestled against his back, shirtless as usual.

“Baz.” Bunce greets me first, but Simon is already sitting up as she speaks.

I drop down on the bed next to him and press a gentle kiss to his temple. “Good morning, love.”

Bunce, as expected, snorts. “I’ll leave you two for a bit, shall I?” She ruffles Simon’s hair as she walks past us and then give me quick squeeze on the shoulder. Our eyes meet and she shrugs.

Not much has changed then.

Simon ends up on his side, head in my lap, as I lean against the wall by Bunce’s bed, my fingers sliding through his curls. I tell him about my week, all the stupid, useless, trivial things that happened at Watford since I’ve seen him last. Anything to distract him.

“Dev’s been sick this week so Niall tried to use “snug as a bug in a rug” to tuck the blankets around him when he was shivering and damn near strangled him instead. They got so damn tight around him it took both of us to get him unraveled.”

Simon tilts his head back to look at me. “You didn’t come up with a spell?”

There’s a glint in his eye, one I haven’t seen in far too long. I’m so desperate for it, I must be imagining it’s there.“I wasn’t there when he cast it. Niall tried something else but that just unwound the weave of the blanket and he couldn’t spell that away. Left Dev wrapped up like Frodo after the spider got to him. That’s when he shouted for me.”

Simon blinks up at me. “You didn’t use an “as you were”?

I’m not imagining it. Even his tone of voice is sharper.

I shake my head, focused on keeping my own voice calm and steady. “No, that would have just taken him back to the too-tight blankets. You know you can’t keep doing “as you were” over and over, once you’ve done another spell. It would just go back and forth between the two most recent ones.”

“How’d you get him free?” This is perhaps the most interest he’s shown in happenings at Watford since I returned to school. I can’t help the sharp flare of hope that shoots through me.

I keep my voice light. “I used scissors.”

“You did not!”

“I had to. I couldn’t think of a spell to put the blanket back together and every time I pulled on a strand it just got tighter.”

“I’ve never known you to be at a loss for a spell.” Simon narrows his eyes at me. I know this look. It usually presages him jutting his chin out in that delectable way of his. “Why didn’t you use “into thin air”?

Why the bollocks hadn’t I used that? Hadn’t even thought of it. I had just snatched the scissors from Dev’s desk and proceeded to decimate the shreds of the blanket. Perhaps the darkening shade of Dev’s face had alarmed me too much.

I feel quite mortified about it now. Blast Niall. He didn’t think of it either.

I still can’t tamp down the rush of warmth that comes over me from Simon’s words though. Not only for his faith in me, or for his immediate ability to think of an appropriate spell for the situation, but also for that brief spark of the old Simon. That’s progress, isn’t it?

It’s more than I’ve seen so far.

I shrug. It’s a terrible habit I’ve undoubtedly picked up from him. “I’m not infallible. Dev took Niall’s blanket in recompense and made him deal with the mess we left behind. Now they’ve been fighting over how warm to keep the room since Dev’s got the only blanket.”

A flicker of a smile crosses Simon’s face. “If it was you, I’d have just made you share.”

My heart beats faster. I think I might swoon at his words, it’s not beneath me.

I don’t want to disrupt the moment though, so all I do is run my fingertip along his jawline. “You’re warm enough I wouldn’t have to share it.”

“Prick.”

“Mouth breather.”

I force myself to keep my breaths even. I can’t recall the last time he insulted me like this.

I’ve missed it.

Simon stares up at me silently and I trace the freckles along his cheek until I reach the one I’ve loved for years. I press my finger to it, keeping my tone casual as I speak. “Are you going to be a lazy bones and stay in bed all day, Snow? I thought we had plans to take you shopping today.”

I attempt to devise some reason to get him out of the house each time I come. Food, shopping, a film. I’ve not been too successful so far but I think at this point even he’s sick of wearing Premal’s old clothes.

I get him up and rummage around the untidy pile of clothing at the foot of the bed until I find a shirt. I spell it on then spell his wings and tail invisible. I can’t do much about the awful track bottoms. Does no one in this family wear jeans?

We’re definitely going to do something about the lack of them in Simon’s wardrobe today.

We wander around the city center, drifting into shops, getting coffee and scones (of course we get scones).

I eventually find an upscale men’s clothing store and drag Simon in.

“This is too posh for me, Baz,” Simon hisses in my ear as I make my way to the shelves of jeans near the back.

“Nonsense. It’s about time you dressed in something other than chavvy track bottoms and Premal’s lurid tshirts.” I flick through the jeans, eyeing Simon as I do. He’s shorter than me but with a more solid build.

At least he used to be. I’m not sure of his size anymore. He’s lost weight since the end of last term.

I won’t think about that right now.

I find a few pairs that appear to be the right size. They may be a bit long but he can just cuff them. I toss the jeans at him and move on to the shirts. He trails behind me like a forlorn puppy.

“Baz.”

“Hmm?” I’m riffling through some fitted crew neck shirts that are velvety to the touch. These will do nicely.

Simon tugs at my sleeve. “Baz. I can’t afford any of this.”

“You can actually, with your leprechaun gold, but that’s not relevant at the moment. I’ve got this. I promised to take you shopping and this is going on my account.”

He looks as horror stricken as if I’d announced a nation-wide shortage of butter. “I can’t let you do that!”

“Why the hell not?”

“It’s too much money. I can’t have you buying me clothes.”

I put the shirts down and reach for his free hand. “Simon. I want to. I’m your boyfriend and I want to do this.” I step closer to him. “Let me do this for you, please?”

He frowns at me, eyebrows drawn to the middle of his forehead. I squeeze his hand. “What’s this really about?”

Simon’s eyes dart away and then return to me, the expression on his face harder to puzzle out now. “I just … I just don’t need all this.” He gestures with the arm holding the jeans and then rapidly clutches at them before they slide out of his grip. “I’m fine with what I’ve got. I can go to a thrift shop, find something in my size. You don’t have to do this.”

It dawns on me then that he’s never done this. Simon’s never gone into a real shop, to buy new clothes. Not even an H&M or a Uniqlo.

It’s all been hand-me-downs at the care homes or cheap thrift shop finds. Or the occasional Christmas gift from the Wellbeloves.

The only full set of new clothes he ever had were the uniforms at Watford. The ones he wore all the time.

The ones I gave him interminable amounts of grief over, back when I was just his prick of a roommate and insufferable nemesis.

It makes me furious at the Mage all over again. Couldn’t he have taken Simon to a real store, to buy some nice clothes? Just once?

I realize I’m standing here, staring at Simon, clutching his hand far too tightly. “I’m not doing it because I have to, Simon. I told you. I’m doing it because I want to. Because you deserve to have anything you need or want. New clothes. New shoes. A proper jacket. Whatever the fuck strikes your fancy, because by Crowley, why shouldn’t you?”

He blinks at me. I step closer. “Come on now. I need to see how my terrible boyfriend’s arse looks in these jeans.”

Simon flushes instantly, his expression rapidly shifting from serious to flustered. It’s adorable. “You can’t be serious, Baz.”

“I’m deadly serious about clothing, Simon. I’d think you’d know that by now.” I can’t help but smile down at him.

He huffs a laugh and I relax a little. “You’re fucking ridiculous about it, you wanker.”

“Trust my judgement then, you fashion disaster. You’re a prime candidate for a complete Queer Eye makeover.”

He actually grins at me. “Well, you’re queer enough to manage all that for me, yeah?”

I am. Challenge accepted.

We exit the shop an hour later, laden with bags. I’ve managed to find two pairs of jeans that are sinfully fitted to Simon’s form, an assortment of soft shirts that hug his muscled torso, one slim cashmere jumper that clings to his shoulders, and a brown leather jacket that nearly caused me to spontaneously combust in the shop. I’m delighted with the entire lot.

A judicious use of “clothes make the man” in the dressing room allowed the clothing to appropriately accommodate his wings and tail. I’ll have to mention that spell to Bunce.

I load our purchases into the car and find a curry shop for Simon. I linger over my kebabs, just drinking in the sight of him. The color has come back to his face, cheeks reddened by the brisk winter wind. He’s digging into his chicken tikka with a gusto that’s been sorely lacking the last few weeks.

I feel a surge of satisfaction when he eyes the lonely kebab on my plate. “You going to eat that, Baz?”

“I had considered it.” I don’t mean it. I ate more than enough samosas. I’ll put some of the Watford rats out of their misery later tonight. “Oh.” He shrugs and I can’t keep up the charade.

“Of course, you can have it, you nightmare. I saved it for you.”

Simon’s face lights up as he reaches for it. It’s the little things that give me hope that he’s making some progress. I know I can’t count on it every time. I know he’ll likely regress next week. But every little bit of improvement is a step in the right direction.

We head back to Bunce’s place in the late afternoon. The days pass far too slowly at Watford and far too swiftly when I’m with Simon. I’ll need to leave soon, to make it back before the drawbridge goes up for the night.

I make some perfunctory conversation with the Professors, indulge in a whispered exchange with Bunce while Simon hangs his new clothes in her closet, and then let Simon walk me to my car. I try to drag it out as long as I can, but the sun is sinking and I’ve got no choice but to leave now.

The chill is more pronounced as the shadows lengthen. I can’t help the shiver that runs through me. Simon wraps his arms around my waist and I revel in his heat. Even now, with his magic extinguished, he still radiates warmth. It’s comforting, though I should be the one giving comfort rather than him.

Simon rests his head on my shoulder and I bury my face in his hair, inhaling the scent of him. It’s not the smoky aroma that haunts my dreams. It’s fresh and green and holds the barest hint of that familiar fragrance.

I lightly brush my lips to his temple and he turns his face up to me, lifting his head from its resting place on my shoulder and touching his lips to mine. I hold my breath. I’ve not ventured to do more than lightly kiss his cheek or forehead, not wanting to push him, not now, not after everything.

Simon presses closer, his lips firm and warm. And just like the first time we kissed, he takes the lead and moves his mouth, doing that thing with his jaw that leaves me breathless.

My lips part and he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against my own.

My heart is hammering in my chest, my pulse pounding in my ears. I’ve yearned for this, hungered for his touch, not daring to seek it for myself. I’ve been content with holding his hand, letting him rest his head in my lap, feeling the press of his shoulder against my own.

I’m grateful for anything he’s willing to give me.

My eyes have drifted closed as his touch heats my skin and his mouth moves against my own. I’ve missed this so very much. We may have only had two days’ worth of spectacular snogging, but Simon’s kisses have become more than just a craving to me. I need them. Like air or water. I don’t know how I’ve survived without them.

I’d dreamed of this often enough through the years, fantasized about his lips on mine, his hand sliding up my back like it is now, his shoulders underneath my grip.

The reality is far better than I’d ever hoped.

Simon pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingle, arms wrapped tightly around each other. I can’t seem to open my eyes. I know it’s not a dream, but part of me still expects it all to vanish if I do open them.

It’s only when Simon’s hand slides up to tangle in my hair that I force myself to bring my gaze to his. The blue of his eyes is so close I can see the variegated shades that make the color so unique. There’s nothing ordinary about this boy in my arms. Not now. Not ever.

“I’ll miss you.” His words are just a whisper but I can hear them clearly.

“I’ll miss you too. I’ll call, every night.” My grip on him tightens. “I’ll be back next week.”

“I want you to, but you don’t have to. I know you’ve got schoolwork to do.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “I’ve no one to distract me during the week anymore. I’m so far ahead that I could take a week off and still not fall behind. It’s not as challenging, without Bunce there to goad me on.” I press a kiss to his forehead. “I’d rather be here with you, you know that.”

Simon’s lips brush mine once more. “I’d rather have you here too.”

I make it back to Watford just in time. The drawbridge goes up just as I reach Mummers. I take a shower, sort through my papers, read next week’s Political Science assignment. I wait until ten and then I dial Simon’s number. He answers on the second ring.

“Hey.”

“I miss you already.”

“I miss you too.”

I listen to him breathe. Words aren’t necessary. It’s enough to know he’s there.

My thanks to @basic-banshee @penpanoply and @fight-surrender for the encouragement, feedback and support for this fic during the crazy real life events going on as I was writing this.

#carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #birthday gift fic #my writing #my fic #shopping #a day in the life

102 notes · View notes