Begonia Part 3

Disclamer: This story contains sexual themes as well as violence and alcohol and drug usage. If you can’t handle such themes or you are under 18 I advise you not to interact with it. Because I’m aware that no matter how many disclaimers put some minors are still going to ignore it and interact I strongly advise you to not repeat any acts mentioned in the story and practice safe sex which will not be shown in this story.

Masterlist

Begonia Masterlist

Like every morning I woke up to my own coughing out blood and flowers. This time I wasn’t in my own bedroom but in Mikey’s, still naked from last night. What surprised me was that I actually slept six hours instead of usual two to three.

The blond next to me was still sleeping and honestly he was adorable. He was hugging my waist and his head was buried into my neck. How my coughing didn’t wake him up I have no idea. Maybe he was tired; his sex drive was surprisingly long.

I clenched the petals in my fist hoping no blood drops onto his bed sheets as I was sneakily trying to leave his embrace. Thankfully he didn’t wake up. Rushing to the bathroom I got rid of the petals and used the toilet while I was at it.

The question which was lingering in my mind was should I leave? I had a feeling that our interaction would be awkward since we fucked last night. However we did sleep in the same bed and he was hugging me, not to forget that I’m pretty sure I was the one who fell asleep first. We were also drinking last night… did he fuck me because he was drunk? But he is not such a light weight… ugh… this is complicated.

I buried my face into my hands. I’m overthinking it, if Mikey doesn’t want me here he wouldn’t have invited me and besides we are friends. He wouldn’t just kick me outside butt naked. Right… I’m naked… he ripped my dress.

Well you brought this on yourself you handsome son of a bitch. I have no other choice but to steal your clothes. With realization that I’ll have to wear Mikey’s clothes I quietly as possible marched back towards the bedroom where I stopped in my tracks.

Thankfully he wasn’t awake but the sight was just too much not to notice. He was laying on his stomach both his hands beneath the pillow which he was hugging and holy shit the back muscles. Not to mention the scratches on his back. Those have to hurt there is no way in hell that does not hurt. How can he sleep so peacefully?

Right the clothes… I shouldn’t stare it is impolite and I’m not a fucking pervert. I walked into his walk in closet where the first thing I search for were sweatpants. The fit is not too bad. Turning my attention to the opposite side I noticed a strangely big collection of graphic T-shirts. I did not expect that. I stole the first one of the many noticing something strange. There is no way in hell this is his.

This is fucking Draken’s?! I knew it! He didn’t believe me when I told him I wasn’t stealing his clothes without his permission. I put the shirt on and left the walk in and the bedroom behind as quietly as possible. Luckily Mikey stayed asleep. Out of pure curiosity I raised the hem of the shirt closer to my nose to see if it still had remainders of Ken’s cologne. There was none. Little gremlin had this for a while. It smelled nice tho…

Now what do I do? I could leave but honestly I don’t really want to. I could make breakfast but by the time Mikey wakes up it will be cold. I’m curious if he eats anything other than chips or any other unhealthy snack.

To my surprise the kitchen was clean and I noticed a plastic bag on the counter. As I was about to peak in I noticed a note next to it.

I’m busy so I can’t cook for you. If you don’t eat any of this I will know and I will kill you.

-Ken

I covered my mouth to suppress a giggle. So Ken comes over to cook for Mikey because otherwise he won’t eat a proper meal. He is such a child. Also, Ken cooking with a pink apron with hearts occupied my brain. I suppressed another giggle and peaked into the bag. Eggs, bacon, some vegies, bread and a muffin, not to bad I guess.

I turned my attention to a ticking clock in the kitchen; I think Mikey used to wake up around this time. Should I start making breakfast? I’m a bit hungry and Mikey is always hungry, fuck it.

I lost myself in a train of thought as I got to work, so much so that I didn’t notice many things I should have and would have usually. That is why I flinched when I felt a pair of arms wrapping around my waist from behind me.

“Mornin’…” God have mercy, I did notice that everybody has a deeper voice when the wake up including me. But the husk in his was so fucking attractive that it made me develop a second heartbeat in between my legs.

“Morning…” I mumbled while concentrating not to burn the bacon.

“Did you sleep well?” He mumbled against my neck where he decided that it would be a great place to kiss me.

“I slept longer than usual.” I’m not hot and bothered by his presence behind me. Is what I'm telling myself to keep a flat tone in my voice…

“Really…?” He asked as he was impressed. “Were you more tired than usual?” He let out a quiet snort.

“I don’t know… Were you? I mean you are usually wide awake by now.” I smirked. “I didn’t know that Ken cooks for you.” I snorted.

“He doesn’t…” He complained.

“Then what is this?” I reached for the note and held it in between my forefinger and middle finger.

Mikey let go of my waist and grabbed the note. His shirtless self, leaned on the kitchen counter while reading the note Ken left behind. God damn it this man will be the death of me. His sweatpants were so low on his hips that I was still wondering how were they on? The V line also almost made me drool like some kind of starved animal.

Food! Concentrate on the food.

“Jokes on him, I have someone better to cook for me.” He tossed the note in the trash bin.

“Ken cooks better than I do.” I said as I started placing the bacon and eggs on the plates.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up on the kitchen counter. I felt the sting in between my legs.

“What are you doing?”

Mikey didn’t give me an answer. He snatched a plate and placed it in my hands together with a fork. I gave him a confused look and he only smirked. Is he going to watch me eat or does he want me to feed him? I bet my entire apartment he wants me to feed him.

With I sigh I stabbed a peace of bacon on the fork extending it towards his lips. He bit off half of it. “It’s good.” Mikey pecked my lips before snatching other half off the fork.

I continued to feed him like a child which he was until his plate was empty. “Your turn.” He stabbed a peace of bacon from another plate and putting it in front of my mouth waiting for me to bite into it. “You don’t need to feed me.” I complained.

“I want to. Now say ah…”

I shook my head in disapproval but eventually letting him feed me for his satisfaction I guess. Our moment was interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. Mikey left the plate aside while rolling his eyes in annoyance. He took his phone out and furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the caller ID.

“What?” He asked.

“She’s with me.” He added.

“What?!” I could hear Ken yelling on the other side of the line

“Didn’t you hear me? She is with me.”

Mikey rolled his eyes in annoyance. “We came to my place for a drink and she slept over.” He explained while brushing his fingers through his blond locks. Mikey rolled his eyes once again before handing over his phone to me.

“Yeah?”

“Why in the holy fuck are you with him?”

“Like he said we drank a bit too much and I feel asleep.”

“He was sleeping on the couch?” Why is he asking that?

“Yes.”

“You filthy liar... That son of a bitch would not sleep on a fucking couch even if you paid him!” He yelled. “What the fuck are you thinking? You like torturing yourself that much?”

I understood his perspective. I felt the same when I enjoyed Mikey’s touches and sweet words. But he was doing it for fun and it was clear to anyone with a pair of functioning eyes. I noticed Mikey’s expression softening from annoyed to a mix of concerned and confused. He then snatched his phone away from me and put it on speaker.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Nothing...” Ken sighed. “Am I on speaker?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m driving you to the doctors today yeah? I’ll come in…” He sighed. “Five…? You have some modest clothes on you?”

“I stole Mikey’s.” I answered.

Ken sighed again. “I’ll see you later.” He hung up.

“Doctor?” Mikey questioned.

“Just a regular checkup… nothing serious.” I assured him.

Mikey placed a kiss on my lips positioning himself in between my legs. His hands went under my shirt and firmly pulled me by my sides closer to him. “Five? We have time for a quickie.” He smirked.

“That’s not even enough to get undressed.” I glared at him. “Or are you telling me that you can cum in five minutes like a virgin?” I smirked.

“I can’t cum in five but you can.” He smirked as he slithered his hand into my pants. “Oh… I like what I’m feeling.” He smirked. “Are you planning to sit on Ken-chin’s bike without any underwear on you? Didn’t think you were such a slut…”

“I’m not a slut. You threw my underwear who knows where last night.” I held him by his wrist pulling it out of my pants. “I didn’t know you were that much of a horn dog.”

“I'm a horn dog?" He asked in disbelief. "You were the one begging for more weren’t you?”

Our bickering was interrupted by another phone call and Mikey let out a frustrated sigh once again while glaring at the caller ID. “What?” he put him on speaker.

“I’m here, send her down.” Ken said.

“That wasn’t five minutes.” Mikey complained.

“I won’t repeat myself.”

Mike pouted like a child hanging up the phone. “When you are done tell him to bring you here.” He let me get down from the counter.

“Why?” I said while walking towards a hallway. “Can I steal your sneakers?” I stepped down a small step.

“Sure.” I slid my feet into his sneakers barefoot because my genius ass didn’t think about wearing socks. “We don’t have anything important going on and I want to cuddle.”

What is he going on about? “You want to cuddle? Why? We never do that…”

“You always cuddle Ken-chin.” His eyebrows furrowed “And besides I want to fuck you..." He eyed me from the top of my heat to the bottom of my feet while bitting his bottom lip. "Very slowly... you know the kind, lazy sex is the best sex."

“Was last night not enough for you?”

Mikey smirked; he leaned in closer to me a few centimeters away from my face. “I’m addicted to that pretty pussy now, you can’t just deprive me of it or I might go crazy.” He kissed my lips.

“I’ll think about it.” I opened the door and left him standing there, barefoot and shirtless leaving him to wait like some kind of househusband or a dog.

I made my way to Ken who was leaned on his bike while impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. “Fucking finally.” He froze the moment his eyes landed on my neck and shirt. “Are those hickeys on your neck?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

I slapped my hand on my neck noticing a slight sting. Right… Mikey was leaving those all over me. “Look what I found.” I turned his attention to the T-shirt. “When I told you I wasn’t the one stealing your clothes I wasn’t lying.”

“Okay, I’m sorry for wrongfully accusing you. Now you little shit tell me how in the holy fuck those got on your fucking neck.” He is swearing a lot which means he is real mad.

“Don’t I have a doctor’s appointment to get to?”

“What did I just say?” I glared at me. He then let out a sigh realizing that I was in fact right and that I will be late if we stall any longer. “Get your ass on the bike and if you don’t tell me every single detail when you’re done I will kill you.”

As ordered I sat on the bike behind Ken and wrapped my arms around his waist. When we got to the doctors I was almost immediately called in and I sat down in front of familiar face that brought me the news of my disease.

“Miss (L/N) I will ask you to lift up your shirt.” He got out of his seat and walked around me to be faced with my back. I did as I was told and I felt a familiar metallic end of a stethoscope touch my skin as I was taking deep breaths.

After many of usual checkups my doctor furrowed his eyebrows. “Something wrong?” I questioned.

“Well not necessarily wrong. It’s more surprising…” He started typing something into his computer. “As you know the hanahaki is a disease where flowers grow in your lungs for you know which reasons. Over time you lungs fill up with said flowers and you essentially die from the lack of oxygen in your body. However your lungs last week were about seventy percent filled with flowers and it was clear that your breathing was heavier than it would be normally. Today I can only assume that the percentage of your lungs filled with flowers is lower. About sixty to sixty-five percent I would say.”

“That means I’m getting better?” I questioned.

“Somehow yes.” He stopped typing. “This usually doesn’t happen so I can’t say for sure what is going on. The only thing I can do is monitor it.”

When I was done with the doctor I met up with Ken who was waiting for me while leaning on his bike. When he saw me i noticed his eyes sparkle with curiosity. “What did the doc say?”

“My condition is improving.” His face twisted in confusion

“Improving?”

“Yeah… he said that compared to last week my breathing is lighter and that my lugs which were seventy percent filled with flowers are now down by five to ten percent.” I explained.

“That’s great.” Ken pulled me into a hug and with a sigh I wrapped my arms around his waist. His familiar cologne filled my nostrils and it made me feel at home. In some sense he was this older brother figure in my life but no matter how protective he was he cared about Mikey more than he did me.

Draken only started giving me attention when he found out that I might no longer breathe because of the begonias growing in my lungs. If he didn’t know I would have to come here by myself like before.

I started coughing pushing myself away from a kind giant so I don’t get the blood on his shirt. The petals that were once in my lungs were now in the palm of my hand familiarly stained with my blood. “You’ll be okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “You have to be yeah?”

“Yes sir.” I saluted while clenching the petals in the palm of my hand.

“Let’s take you home.” He sat on his bike waiting for me to sit behind him.

“Mikey said that you should bring me back to his place.” I spoke up.

Draken furrowed his eyebrows. ”Why?”

I bit my lip thinking of an answer which he will believe. “Don’t know… He told me to come back but I’ll go get my clothes. Okay?”

Ken thought about it for a second before sighing and nodding his head in approval. Like I said he brought me to my place where I changed into my clothes and placed Mikey’s into a small leather backpack.

Not long after I was knocking on Mikey’s door and he opened the door for me. He was still shirtless and barefoot in only sweatpants which still showed off his V line. He scanned me from top to bottom. His somewhat lustful and curious gaze turned into a glare within a second.

“You took too long.”

Self-care day

Warnings: fluff

Having a selfcare day was a necessity

It was the time in which you took for yourself to destress. You were able to just laze around, mostly carrying out your washday routine, and then eat whatever whilst watching movies or listening music.

Just a day full of You.

A few days ago, however, your friend, Yahya, had messaged you to let you know he was going to be in town for the weekend and wanted to spend some time with you since you both were on busy schedules.

You had told him to come over and have a self care day and take some of the pressure off of himself to indulge in himself.

you told him to come over once you had finished your detangling (this would be after having washed, conditioned, and treating, your hair.)

When he arrived, you had just finished sectioning and plaiting your hair to keep it from knotting overnight and layed out the snacks in the living room. 

You were getting ready to get the necessities for the face masks you wanted to review when you heard the knocking at your front door and then receiving a notification from Yahya that he was outside and needed to use the bathroom.

“Aye! I know you know its me!” He’d yell out through the barrier of the door and your house.

You’d quickly open the door, in hopes you’d reach in time so he wouldn’t pee on himself.

You’d fling open the door and before you can get out a hello, he'd be running in, shouting out ‘gotta go gotta go gotta go’ down the hallway leading to the guest room. You couldn't do much but laugh at the way he was acting.

You just closed the door, thankful your next door neighbours were out of town or else you'd be hearing a lot about your friends antics the following day.

Once he had finished in the bathroom (obviously making sure his hands were clean and he didn’t leave the seat up or forget to flush) he’d make his way back out to the front of the house and see you sat on the couch with a face mask on, eating a bowl of mixed berries and watching Futurama on your wide screen tv.

“Hello to you too sir” You’d say smartly, he would just turn and respond with a ‘Hi’ and say thanks for getting the door quick.

“No problem.”You would bite into a juicy strawberry and chew on it for a bit as you were so absorbed in the tv until he snapped his fingers in front of you to break you out of your trance. “We wouldn’t want you to walk around like that in these peoples neighbourhood” You ate another berry before placing the bowl down and asking if he wanted anything, pointing to the variety of junk and healthy food you had placed out on the coffee table centred in the living room.

He would take some of your berries, popping them into his mouth and laughing at the annoyed look you have at him refusing to use the extra bowl you had out incase he wanted some.

He knew it would annoy you and you knew he did it on purpose so you just shook your head and proceeded to pick up your bottle of water and drink some of its contents. 

---

“So what’s on your face?” He’d motion to the mask you had painted on yourself.

“This, my barbaric friend, is a face mask.” You’d get up to stretch before picking up the diy mixture you wanted to try out and pushed it towards your friend who was no stranger and had gotten up to change into his extra shorts and old hoodie he left behind.

“I know you no-” you’d cut him off before he could finish asking the rhetorical “anyways this mask is supposed to help open your pores and detox your skin.” You’d continue to speak while reaching for the clean brush that you’d use as an applicator for your friends face.

He’d look down questionably at the mix before looking back up at you, who was now standing in front of him and smiling, waiting for him to give in so you could apply the mask to his face.

He’d sigh before handing over the product.

You’d do a little happy dance at the fact he didn’t put up much of fight, but you chalked it out to be due to the fact that it was a self care day and he wasn’t meant to be worried about anything other than taking care of himself.

He’d sit up straight and come closer to the edge of the couch to allow you to place the mask on his face and to be safe in case the mixture fell onto the couch before it reached his face. He noticed the towel you had placed over the space between the central carpet and the couch (even though there was a gap where you could see the floor under the massive rug, he knew you were just being extra cautious to reduce clean up)

As he sat and let you apply the mask, he did start to relax and not long after you were finished and he could lay back in the couch, finally being able to spread himself out again to get comfortable for the remainder of the day with his close friend.

The two of you sat and watched a few more episodes before going to wash off the face masks.

As you were patting off your face, you caught Yahya staring at himself in the bathroom mirror and couldn’t help but ask “what did you think?”

He looked at his skin a little more.

“Yay or nay, Yahya?” He still didn’t say a thing to you. “You actors and wanting to create suspense” you’d let out as you rolled your eyes at his dramatic pausing and serious face he had put on.

Once you had finished drying your face, you were met with your friends kind smile and a “I like it.”

You wanted to slap him for the theatrics.

Had you thinking he wasn’t feeling it.

“Well mr. Emmy-Award winner” you start off as you both made your way out of the bathroom, disposing of the face towels you had placed out for you both into the clothes basket, “glad you liked it. That means you can buy me some masks when you travel to places like South Korea or Singapore.”

Yahya would let out a little chuckle.

He knew there was something up with you wanting to share your skin care and he now got his answer.

“Oh! So that’s why you wanted me to come over? To try on some face mask so you could persuade me to buy more when I’m away to bring for your bougie behind?” You could hear the teasing in his tone but continued to play along.

“I mean...” you’d turn around and shrug your shoulders to the man walking behind you before you both got situated on the couch again.

He’d look over, amused at your behaviour before chuckling and nodding his head.

“But nah.” You’d let out after a brief stare off which was caused by your straight face to his accusations. “I genuinely wanted us to hang out” you’d say as you picked up a bag of dried mango.

“I mean how many times do we get to see eachother or happen to be in the same city at the same time for longer than 4 days?” You’d say as you opened up the pack, in which he helped himself to a good sized palm of its contents.

“You right” 

“I know. Now stop eating my snacks when there’s enough for the both us”

You both would turn from watching the tv to talking about random topics or anything going on in your lives that the other missed and it felt like you guys hadn’t been separated for so long.

You guys shared some laughs, got up to make some food before going back to the couch to be lazy.

You’d turned off the animated shows and switched to playing music once you both cracked open a bottle of wine to compliment the food you'd made.

Both buzzed and full, you guys cleaned up any mess made and just let the calm energy in the room take over. You both caught the itis and didn’t try to fit it.

---

By time you had woken up, your head was on yahya’s shoulder and he was sitting comfortable with the tv on low and munching on some gummies.

He’d ask how you slept and you'd say great and he’d say the same before you guys continued watching whatever he had put on while you were still sleeping.

It wouldn’t be until the late hours of the night that he’d decide to head back to his hotel room.

You’d try to get him to spend the night but he said he wasn’t going to be able to leave if he didn’t leave now.

You stopped fighting him and walked him to the door, sending him off with a couple more of the candy packets amongst other junk food (which he technically stole but you weren’t about to start anything with this man when you were still feeling tired.)

As he got to the front door, youd both hug and you’d watch him get into his rental before closing and locking it. You'd clean everything up, packing away any unopened food items, folding any blankets, fixing the couch pillows etc. before heading up to your bedroom where you would get ready to get under your comforter for another deep sleep.

before you could sink into the dreamstate, you got a text notification  (you normally had your phone on dnd once you got in bed but this time you forgot) and saw it was from no one but your friend Yahya

“We gotta do another one of these again girl. These chill days aren’t common anymore” You’d laugh at the message as you imagined him saying it in front of you and hearing it in his voice.

“I agree” You’d respond and he’d send you a couple memes to show his excitement at the future of this possibly becoming a ritual between you both whenever you saw each other.

“Goodnight Yahya.” You’d send after snickering at some of the images he sent you.

“Night beautiful.” 

You’d feel the butterflies flutter and try to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

You may or may not have had crush on the man for God knows how long, but that was neither here nor there and you were gonna punch those thoughts and feelings to the back of your head because sleep was more important right now.

As you thought about other things, you hadn’t realised you fell asleep after blinking a couple of times.

It was lights out for you.

---

on the other side of town, yahya was waiting to get a response from you and after a good couple of minutes he figured you’d gone to sleep and decided to follow the lead as he thought about the day you both spent together.

One day, he’d think as he was getting comfortable in the bed before placing his phone on charge.

As he was about to fall asleep, his mind ran across the topic of discussion earlier and said to himself that since he was flying out of the country in a few days, he’d bring you back a couple of things for your future self care days.

He went to sleep with a smile on his face as he thought of the look of pure joy when given the products. Just thinking of your happiness brought him happiness and helped him fall into a deep sleep with thoughts of you running on his mind and the future of self care days between you two possibly being something he’d try to upkeep for as long as he could.

Hey loves!

Hope you guys liked this one.

Thanks to the anon who sent it in (sorry it took so long to get out of the drafts) 

Hope you guys are taking time out for yourself and keeping safe.

Remember to like, comment and/or reblog and thanks for the continuous support.

I appreciate you guys so much.

Stay safe,

-K💜

The sound of miniature droplets plummeting against the thin window glass disturbed the fantasy your mind had fabricated to ease your inebriated senses. As the noise gradually increased in volume, you were no longer able to sustain the blissful amnesia that came packaged with the state of dreaming. With your mind slowly registering the reality you sought to escape, a gentle groan vibrated in your throat, prompting your enflamed esophagus to sting. When you sought to lift your heavy eyelids, your lashes, still marked with the mascara from last night, stuck together with invisible glue and dried liner.

The disastrous evening with your new Brazilian friends could easily be traced from the smudged makeup clinging to your pillow, to the sweet liquor that lingered on your lips. There were dozens of physical reminders, and the ache rippling through your temples was simply the cherry on top.

Surely, your actions may have cost you a favourable impression with your potential colleagues, but you could care less about that. There was only one thought – one inquiry, that was plaguing you…

Did he call?

A calculated glance was tossed in the direction of the bedside table where your phone was laid. The unlit screen mocked your increasing heartrate, wrongfully labelling you as a coward. Peering down at the device, you quickly tapped the screen to see if there was a notification from your fiancé.

There wasn’t.

To label your reaction with one descriptor would be to downplay the concoction of emotions currently eating away at your stomach. You did threaten him, so why would he respond? Maybe after hearing the message, he presumed you would be far too angry to speak with him. Or maybe… he just didn’t care. The questions continued to sprout, even as you went to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.

What you despised the most about your current predicament was the insecurity your fiancé’s deceitful behaviour had planted inside you. Questioning his love was foreign to you, but after discovering his supposed relationship with the blonde and the lies that were used to conceal it… the seed of insecurity bloomed into a monstrous weed.

After brushing your teeth, you secured your hair with an elastic, allowing a few strands to remain free, and framing your face. At least now you appeared collected on the outside, even if there was a battle ensuing on the inside.

An elongated sigh parted your lips as you exited the bathroom connected to the guest quarters. What you needed now was a pain killer and maybe a hug.

“Tooru, can you believe this little shit? He didn’t call me … back.” The final word of the sentence was barely audible, as you struggled to comprehend the visual ahead. Sat at the small dining table, accompanying the former captain was no one other than Miya Osamu. The pair appeared to have been engaged in friendly conversation before your arrival. You had never considered them to be friends, and yet in this moment, they appeared to be the closest of comrades, sipping away at their lattes, with gossip keeping them occupied. “Wow. I don’t know which one of you I should fight first.”

“Hi, y/n. You know Miya, right? He’s that guy from Japan, owns that little onigiri shop that everyone is obsessed with.” Oikawa flashed an innocent beam in your direction, his caramel irises twinkling with confidence. The threat that was posed did not elicit a reaction, rather he was satisfied by the relief he instantly saw register on your features when you spotted the cook. Your reaction had confirmed that he was right, and he fully intended on gloating about this later in the group chat.

Beside him, Osamu nervously shifted his gaze from the mug snug against his palms to the one person he was frantic to see. A small smile draped along his lips as his heart thrashed against his ribcage. God. He missed you.

“Oh no. I have never met this guy in my entire life.” Crossing your arms over your chest in a protective stance, you mentally scolded yourself for displaying any signs of happiness. But the sarcastic edge to your retort only brought your best friend to expel a chuckle.

“Oh, well then I guess I should leave you potential lovebirds to get acquainted.” The volleyball player brought the ceramic piece to his lips, finishing the remainder of the drink before lifting his weight from the seat. His job was complete, what happened next would depend on the two of you. “I’ll be back later in the evening. Be good kids.” Before stepping away from the table, Oikawa shot Osamu a quick glance, communicating a silent warning - “good luck, and don’t fuck this up”.

In hindsight, if you were tactical enough to not fall prey to your insecurities, you would have realized what your friends were hiding. The signs were all there – your best friends had never let you down, they were always there, prioritizing your happiness. Guilt hovered over your chest as you watched Oikawa fetch his keys and exist the apartment. The instability of your romantic relationship should not have bled into your friendships.

“Y/n.”

The sound of your name on his lips mimicked a physical blow, it was a reminder of just how much you missed him – how much you loved him… and how much he hurt you.

It appeared that while your attention was on the dramatic exit of your best friend, Osamu had seized the opportunity to approach you. He was now stood fairly close, and the sudden change in proximity surged electricity throughout your nervous system. Naturally, your first impulse was to wrap yourself around him, it was the same impulse that was cursed upon you after you both shared a kiss all those years ago. But the circumstances today rightfully compelled you to restrain yourself.

“Still want to fight me and my stupid face?” He proceeded another cautious step forward; the hesitation in his movement, evidently grounded in his fear of upsetting you.

The teasing remark from the former volleyball player brought your eyelids into a questioning squint. A gentle smile could be traced along his mouth, prompting a sea of butterflies to enter your abdomen. To combat the sensation, you reached out and captured his face with your fingers. But to your dismay, even with his features squished, the younger twin’s face was stupidly adorable. Frustrated with the result, a little growl was given to the male, and when he blinked down at you curiously, the sound morphed into a suffocated squeal.

“Annoying!”

How could you fight him when all you could feel was love? It was pointless.

Releasing his face from your hold, a string of curses were mumbled under your breath as you sauntered past him, before launching yourself onto the couch. Once situated comfortably, a decorated pillow was dragged onto your lap. It served as a distraction from the conversation you were dreading to have.

“You know, I miss you too.” Osamu exhaled the confession, turning himself to face you. He anticipated some hostility, and he certainly deserved it. But his torment laid in the fact he could not console you, knowing that he was the source of your pain.

And little did you know that he too was struggling to fight the same invisible force that always led you back to each other.

“No shit.” Two fingers were pressed against the bridge of your nose as you sought to untangle the web of emotions his presence had created. How were you to react? What were you to say? What was appropriate under the circumstances was ridiculously unclear.

Osamu, who was battling with similar mental inquiries, abandoned his anxieties seconds after hearing your response. Advancing closer to the couch, he crouched down in front of you then began vocalizing the apology that he owed you weeks ago.  

“Y/n, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I lied, and that I hid things from you. I wish I could take it all back. I love you so damn much.” Tilting his head just the slightest, he sought to secure your gaze to indicate his sincerity, but you tactically avoided it, continuing to pick at the fuzzy fabric of the pillow.  “I want to fix this. I want to fix us. I don’t care about anything else. I just need you, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

The promises spilling from his lips were surely enticing, but what did they mean now? When you could no longer trust them?

“This isn’t something you can just fix. I trusted you, I trusted our love and you… showed me that was a mistake.” The ferocity behind his words compelled you to rip your attention from the decorative piece, and once it landed upon him, your chest constricted uncomfortably. How could loving someone hurt this damn much? “And all of a sudden I’m here stuck with all these worries because you couldn’t be honest with me, ‘Samu. I don’t know how many times you lied to me. Or if there were other girls.” The latter half of your response contained a small crack, demonstrating a level of vulnerability you had instructed yourself to conceal. This wasn’t like you. It wasn’t. “I don’t know if you even really love me. Or if this is just something you got comfortable with, and you’re afraid to let go.”

But you hoped it wasn’t that. Oh, you really did hope it wasn’t the case.

“There weren’t any other girls, y/n. I fucked up and I’ll apologize for the rest of my life if I have to. But you couldn’t be more wrong.” He knew you were hurt, but the consequences of falsehoods had only dawned on him now. It destroyed your confidence in him, and in his love towards you.

His resolve to maintain distance no longer stood as a barrier to claim your hands in his own. Lacing your fingers together with his, he shook his head, hoping to dispel your insecurities. “I could never not love you. I don’t care how many years it’s been. I loved you then, and I love you now. If you will only believe one thing, I need you to believe this. I knew you were my soulmate the day I kissed you in the classroom. I never doubted that since then, y/n. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” The apologies were conveyed in a pleading manner, even if you chose to reject them – he needed you to understand that he meant every word. “If you’re not ready to come back home, it’s okay. I’ll wait. But I won’t give up on us.” Without severing eye-contact, he brought your hands to his lips, applying a few kisses to your knuckles. “I love you, y/n.”

“Shut up.” There was no denying his sincerity, and right now, in your hungover state, you could no longer command yourself to dismiss his apologies. Removing the pillow from your lap, you curled your arms around his torso, transferring your weight from the couch onto him. Osamu quickly adjusted, carefully settling into a seating position on the ground as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He instantly tightened his grip around you, placing one hand at the back of your head and the other on the small of your back. The warmth emanating from him, served as a remedy to the pain infecting your heart. You knew there was much more to be discussed, as you stated before - there was no easy fix. But his apology was a starting point, and right now, what you needed more than a fight was his love. 

Let’s do it again, shall we - insecurity 

Masterlist - Previous - Next

A/N: I am so sorry this took forever!! 

taglist: @idiot-juice-enthusiast @vicassa @yourstarvic @bringmelily @newfriendjen​  @hikarichannn​ @anime-simp @tsukkismamagucci @laughingismorefun​ @astronomyturtle​ @shegrewupwithoutafather​ @hyskoa1998​ @deephumandragonperson​ @pretty-setter-bois​ @raenebalgaire​ @sugawarabby​ @justanotherfangirl2​ @keijisworld​ @90s-belladonna​ @momoinot​ @sempiternal-amour​ @cherryblosom111​ @yqshirov​ @haikyuufairy​ @volleybloop​ @bloody-bella​ @4fterh0urs​ @seikamuzu​ @namyari​  @toaster-stick​ @coconut-dreamz​ @roseestuosity​ @prcttylittlcthing​ @uzumakioden​ @nerdynstoned​ @kenmasgameboy​ @unstableye​ @ouijaeater15​ @aquariarose​ @fandomtrashpandasposts​ @helloalex80​ @stfucanunot​ @envyusshades​ @cuddlesslut​ @seijohiseliterambles​  @meiikuki​ @cuddlejeongin​ @tchalameme​ @ditu-m9​ @elianetsantana​

Taglist continued in the comments from my personal  ❣️

Nagito X Reader comfort fic

Mod Mikan: So....I was craving a Nagito x Reader comfort fic and what better way to express my Nagito simp ass through writing a comfort story? I’ve had my fair share of dreaded surgeries throughout my life and since my SO irl has been there to comfort me, I thought I’d do the same for my fictional husbando. Ik this isn’t my best, I was kinda distracted today, but I still wanted to get this out. Enjoy! :)

Tw: Hospitals, waking up from surgery, some graphic human anatomy descriptions

“I’m scared, Nagito,” (Y/N) frowned, hugging their arms. Their nails dug into the fabric of the green jacket that belonged to Nagito. But really, it would be easier to call it (Y/N)’s jacket, considering how much Nagito let them wear it. He knew that it put them to ease and his scent and gentle touch would help them relax. He was surprised that someone like him would be able to calm down his precious ray of hope, but he wasn’t one to argue with them. After all, anything they wanted, Nagito would happily do everything he can for them

Speaking of Nagito, the white haired male brought his pale hand towards their cheek, brushing a stray lock of (H/C) hair behind their ear, his thumb stroking the plush skin. He flashed his typical gentle smile, taking in the warmth that radiated from the cheek underneath his skinny fingers, being absorbed into his poor insulated body temperature. God, how much he loved their warmth

“You have nothing to worry about, my hope. You’re so strong and so amazing. I know that you’re going to get through his surgery with ease. And I’ll be here for you when you wake up, okay?” His comforting words fell from his lips, the long thumb of his right hand never stopping the tender circles that were rubbing into (Y/N)’s skin. Nagito blushed, his green eyes darting away from his lover for a second, only to turn back to them to see their eased reaction. Nagito confessed he wasn’t the best at comforting people, but little did he realize that he was quite the peacemaker--especially when it came to his beloved hope

This statement was further proven when a similar kind smile tugged at (Y/N)’s lips, barely succeeding in holding back the sweet tears that had yet to break through the damn that was built between the tear ducts in their (E/C) eyes. They wrapped their arms around Nagito’s skinny frame, their smile pressing against his T-shirt. Nagito let out a small gasp, nevertheless, returned the hug by locking his arms around the love of his life

However, the hug was cut short as the swinging of double doors and soft thump of hospital booties signaled that the surgeon was finished preparing the operating room and ready for (Y/N) (L/N). She swiftly pulled her clipboard from the front of the room, tapping the patient on their shoulder. (Y/N) turned around to see the doctor that had yet to operate on them

“(Y/N) (L/N), I assume?” She asked her, earning a nod from them. She took this as a sign to continue with inviting them into the room “We are ready whenever you are. I am terribly sorry, but your boyfriend will have to wait outside until we are done,” She stated, receiving an identical nod from the previous one (Y/N) gave her. They turned back to Nagito, but before they could greet him off, he pressed a small kiss on their forehead, his patient smile never leaving his handsome features

“I’ll be waiting, my love. You’re gonna do so well, I know it. And after, I plan to spoil you rotten. But only if you allow someone like me the honors,” He winks, crossing his arms. (Y/N) just blushed, their flustered face approval enough for the luckster. With a shaky breath, (Y/N) made their way into the operating room, their heart thumping as if it would come out of their chest mixed with the nervousness from the upcoming operation and Nagito’s plans to make them feel better post surgery

*****************************************************************************************************

So it has come down to this

An hour later, the pale-skinned male was sitting on an empty chair in the waiting room. The area was relatively empty, allowing the other chairs to be free for Nagito to set the shopping bags down near him. He has brought a variety of jewelry, sweets, pillows, fuzzy blankets, stuffed animals, warm compresses, and even aroma therapy candles with felt candle holders for his hope once the operation was over. The clerk even gave him a shocked look, mixed with some confusion as he had trouble lugging all the bags into the waiting room

Then again, his purpose in life was to bring that over so hopeful smile he loved so much on his hope

The luckster knew exactly what his lover liked, so shopping didn’t take long. He was killing the remainder amount of time with reading a novel, smiling to himself. He was paying more attention to his own thoughts, rather than to the words on the page, if he was being honest

My hope is such a brave fighter. They’re gonna do great. And I can’t believe that I’ll be the one helping them recover after it. This is exciting! I--

“Komaeda-san?!”

The white-haired male was snapped out of his thoughts, turning his head to the doctor that rushed up to him. It wasn’t the same surgeon that showed (Y/N) into the operating room an hour ago, but judging from the similar scrubs he was wearing, it was safe to assume he was a part of the operating team that was performing the appendectomy

“Huh? What is it, sir?” Nagito asked the doctor, a worried expression plastered on his face. Some sweat was already rolling down from his forehead and temples, as he got up and held his hand out towards him. The doctor bit his lip, before replying with something that made the already unsettling atmosphere around drop even further

“It’s (L/N)-san. They...woke up during mid operation. They’re thrashing and panicking. If we can’t calm them down, we can’t reapply the anesthesia back on. You are their boyfriend, right? Please calm them down,” The doctor practically pleaded the last part with a hint of concern lacing his words. Nagito didn’t need to be told twice, as he just nodded, following the doctor inside the operating room. The Ultimate luckster hurriedly power walked towards the operating bed, and while his composure was typically calm and patient, it took all his willpower to suppress the paranoia that was flowing through his veins

“NAGITO!!!” A scream of his name flooded the operating room, as (Y/N)’s eyes fell upon their boyfriend, tears streaming down their face. The power walk that Nagito strutted previously quickly turned into running, as he rushed to his lover’s side, kneeling down. His long fingers swiped the fat tears that ran down their face, earning sniffles leaving their nostrils. He frowned, pressing delicate kisses on their forehead and temples. He pulled away after the short series of kisses, pressing his forehead against theirs, his hot brath fanning over their tear stained face

“Oh my hope. My love. My angel. Shush now, shhhh, calm down,” He cooed softly, bringing his whole hand up to repeat the process of stroking their cheek like he did prior to the operation. His heart almost cracked as he was given another set of sniffles and low whimpers of discomfort as (Y/N) expressed their dissatisfaction

“It hurts....It feels so p-painful, Nagito. I...I....” (Y/N)’s blubbering and stammering for a proper choice of words in the dire situation was stopped by Nagito hushing them, his hands rubbing their cheek up and down in an attempt to relax them

“I know, my hope, I know. They’re going to put the anesthesia back on, but you need to calm down for that, okay? Just breath. Listen to my heart and breath,” He took one of their hands that was sticking out from the hospital tarp and held it close to him. He squeezes their hand gently, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss on it. This earned a small smile to form on (Y/N)’s face, but only for a split second as they winced in pain and discomfort again. Nagito was internally beating himself up, believing his luck was the cause of them waking up

Because of you they’re hurting. All you do is hurt them. They sacrificed so much for you and asked for such little in return. And you put them in danger like this? This is how you repay them?

All these negative thoughts flooded Nagito’s mind, almost ready to burst out through his mouth and start self-deprecate himself, as expected. He knew how much you hated it when he talked down about himself, but there was nothing in his brain that told him “Now’s not the time”. He started to squeak out a sound that resembled an “I” but he was cut off my the doctors motioning for him to talk to them. Nagito shook his head from what he was going to say to planting one last kiss on (Y/N)’s hand

“I’ll be right back, (Y/N). Try to breath,” He cooed, going over the doctor. The same surgeon that informed Nagito about the problem frowned and tapped his clipboard, silently telling him that their initial plan for putting (Y/N) back under anesthesia was no good anymore

“We have ran out of the required dose to put (L/N)-san back to sleep. We need to finish the operation, but I am terribly sorry: They will need to be awake for this. Can you keep them distracted?” He asked Nagito, earning a nod from the white haired male. Nagito looked down, racking his brain for a solution to help in anyway. He turned back to the doctor, an “aha” expression plastered on his pale face

“I read this book once were they used a spinal injection in the place of general anesthesia. Since you are removing their appendix, the heavy work is all done in the lower region. Would that work?” He offered, earning a surprised facial reaction from the doctor. Nevertheless, this only lasted for a second, as he was lost in thought for a split second before nodding in agreement. He gestured for the other members of the surgery team and explained Nagito’s idea to them

“You mean a lidocaine? That could work, but the effects only last two hours, probably even less,” One doctor, who Nagito recognized as the lead surgeon that lead (Y/N) into the room to begin with, chimed in with the potential problem. Nagito rested his chin underneath his finger, looking down with how to word the next inquiry

“What else is there left to do?” He asked, making a third doctor flip through the papers that were attached to another clipboard. He snapped his head up to Nagito, a relieved expression painted on his face

“All we have to do is close the appendix incision and stitch them back up,” He answered, nodding towards his colleagues to get the spinal injections ready. Nagito took this as a gesture to return back to his previous actions, which made him kneel once again at your side, cupping your cheeks in his hands. As you were forced to look into his ghostly green eyes, he told you their plan

“Angel, listen closely. The doctors are going to give you an injection in your back. You’re gonna feel numb for a few hours, but you’re not gonna feel anything, okay?” He said in a nurturing manner, making you nod but writhe in pain again. He bit his lip, failing at an attempt to soothe you. He racked his brain, jumping over the self-deprecation that he normally did to compare your hopefulness to how disgusting he was. He knew that didn’t help when you were feeling gloomy. Since you and Nagito were dating for quite some time, he had experience with what can restore that smile he loved so much. Moving one hand towards your hand and hold it, the other still stroking your cheek, he flashed a humorous smile in your direction, as he started to distract you from the doctors turning you to your side

“Hey, (Y/N)? Did you ever tell you the story of how Chiaki tricked Hajime into going to Anime Con with her? She told me that she bet Hajime that he couldn’t chug a whole carton of orange juice under a minute. He, being a stubborn guy, accepted it. After Chiaki got her timer out, he--.....” As Nagito begin to ramble on about the famous story of “Good boyfriend Hajime accompanies his girlfriend to Anime Con” (Y/N) sucked in a breath as they felt s sharp needle being inserted into their vertebrae. With the clear liquid being shot into the veins belonging to the back, (Y/N) felt their lower regions being numb, the already cut insertion that revealed the pink muscle and organs being a thing of the past to worry about. The doctors begin to crowd around (Y/N) again, saved for the space were Nagito kept telling (Y/N) random stories, ranging from funny schemes about their classmates, to hope rants telling (Y/N) that they were so strong and they could get through anything. He expressed the hope that they possessed was so strong and they would be able to push through this as long as they believed in themselves, just he did always did

With a weak smile, (Y/N) placed all their focus on Nagito, their ears being flooded with kind messages and words that came from his heart, expressing that he believed in them. His talk about hope was deemed creepy in the eyes of others, but not in (Y/N)’s. They loved hearing how Nagito had so much faith and an immense amount of respect for them, as well as love

“You’re right, Nagito. I can do this....I know I can. As long as I have you...” A meek mantra of Nagito’s statements fell from his lips, making Nagito’s heart do a small backflip. He cracked an even wider smile, his eyes lighting up from the hope that fueled his love to keep going

“Now there’s the hope that I know and love. That’s the spirit, my hope. Everything is almost done. Come on....” He quietly cheered, not wanting to cause another panic attack to arise from (Y/N). Nagito’s encouraging words and motivational hope raves kept falling out, practically on autopilot, until the doctors pulled the last of the thread they were using to stitch (Y/N)’s stomach up, closing the incision. The lead doctor yanked the surgical tarp from the rest of the covered body, giving the happy couple a proud smile

“The operation was a success! You did well (L/N)-san. And Komaeda-san? Thank you. You did us a huge favor while comforting your lover,” She flashed a smile, handing him a clipboard. Nagito gave her a likewise smile, a serene feeling filling the air around the once intense hospital room. As the white-haired male gently helped his hope into the hospital bed, careful not to move them too harshly due to the raw feeling, fresh out of post-surgery, he signed the papers, handing them back to the surgeon

“It was my pleasure, Miss. Anything for my angel,” He ran a lithe hand through a field of (H/C) locks, earning a blush from his lover. He pressed a quick kiss on the crown of their head, more use to PDA since the beginning of their relationship. He turned back to the doctor, yearning for a closure

“You said the surgery was the success, right? How long are they going to have to stay here?” He asked, snatching a nearby chair, sitting down next to his lover

“A good two and three days. But it is normal, since we need to run a few tests to see if everything else is okay. Would you like to stay with them?” She asked, turning on the lights in the room. Nagito placed his hand over (Y/N)’s eyes, knowing damn well that they hated when a dark room filled with light fast. They tug a sweet smile on their face, earning a similar one from Nagito, followed by a question

“Do you want me to stay with you, hope? I have some presents for you,” He stated, earning a gasp from the (H/C) haired patient. They nodded rapidly, weakly motioning for him to bring himself in for a hug

“Naggie, of course. Stay with me, please,” They pleaded weakly, still feeling the aftereffects of fatigue that flooded through their system. Nagito shushed them one last time before informing the doctor they he will be staying with his lover. With an agreement between them, the doctor went to prepare some final papers for Nagito, leaving him alone with his angel. He turned to them, about to get up. However, he was cut off, feeling a hand wrap around his wrist

“Marshmallow? Where are you going?” (Y/N) asked them, tilting their head. God they looked so adorable, he thought to himself, before answering their question with his typical patient tone

“Oh, I’m just gonna go get your presents, (Y/N). Is that okay?” He raised the inquiry. (Y/N) looked at the bedsheets that were wrapped around them, before turning to him with a delightful, puppy eyed face that they both knew that he couldn’t say no to

“Well...I was hoping....maybe you can stay here with me for a few more minutes. Cuddle for a while?” They asked, hoping that Nagito would say yes. The light-skinned luckster wasn’t the only one that was lucky, knowing that he was weak and couldn’t say no to his angel. He grinned, bringing his lover close to his arms. Careful not to touch their lower regions, he hugged them close, tucking their head under his chin

“Anything for you, my adorable little hope. I’m so proud of you,”

Andante, Andante [SMUT]

word count: 4122

WARNING: SMUT

-----

After being seconds away from plummeting to your death in the Washington Monument, you were constantly on edge. Peter saved you in the nick of time, but there was still that feeling of pure panic coursing through your body the remainder of the day. Ned and MJ stood very close to you after the incident, seeing how anxious you were acting. Whenever someone would come up to you to interview about your near-death experience, MJ quickly shut them down while Ned held onto you. MJ was one of the only people who knew about your fear of heights. She even tried to talk you out of going up the monument. However Ned pleaded with you, saying he didn’t want to go alone. So you joined him… and quickly came to regret it.  

When you got back to the hotel, Peter was sitting in your room waiting for you to come back. You smiled sadly, dropping your bag onto the ground and walking over to him, “Hug me please?” 

Peter responded immediately, opening up his arms for you to walk into them. With a heavy sigh he pulled you into his lap, running his fingers through your hair calmingly, “You know I wish I could’ve stayed with you right?”

You nodded, snuggling yourself further into his neck, “I know… I get it.” 

“There was nothing more that I wanted to do than to be there for you, but it’s more dangerous if people find out who I am,” he sighed, kissing the side of your head gingerly, “The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.” 

You didn’t reply, you just let him hold you. MJ may have been one of the only to know of your fear, but Peter was the only one who knew why you feared it. When you were little, you watched as your sister took one too many steps off the edge of the roof at your old apartment. The two of you were playing tag. You went for her, but she jumped back. The back of her legs bumped into the edge of the railing, but it didn’t stop it. It tilted her body, sending her head first to the sidewalk underneath. For two weeks you couldn’t leave the house without seeing pieces of your sister. Ever since then, heights sent you into major panic and breakdowns. Peter is the only person who knows you were there when she fell. You didn’t even tell your parents about it. How could you? To you, it felt like it was all your fault. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Peter asked soothingly, his hand rubbing up and down your back slowly. You let out a shaky breath and nodded. 

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” you assured him. You pulled back a little but the second that Peter saw the tears brimming your eyes he pulled you straight back towards him. You laughed humorlessly, a short sob breaking through it, “I’m sorry I was trying not too.”

“Never apologize to me because you have feelings,” Peter shushed you before pressing another tender kiss to your temple, “It’ll be okay. I promise everything is okay. Do you want me to go get something to eat?”

You shook your head, “No I’m okay. I think I might just go to bed.” 

Peter nodded before slowly releasing you, “Okay. I can come back in the morning. You can call me if you need me and I’ll be here as quickly as possible.”

“Actually,” you said slowly, holding tightly onto Peter’s wrist. He looked down at you but your eyes never left the floor, “I was hoping that you’d stay in here with me tonight? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep otherwise.” 

Peter stammered for a moment, unable to answer. So insecurity began to rise, causing you to speak once more, “I mean you don’t have to. I can see if MJ c-”

“No,” Peter said quickly, causing a small smile to rise on your lips, “I’ll stay. I’ll need to swing by my room to get a pillow though if that’s okay?”

“Or you could stay in the bed?” 

“Th-” Peter’s voice broke out significantly higher than usually, but after clearing his throat he sounded normal again, “That would work too.” 

You smiled at him, “I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.”

Peter watched you walk towards the bathroom with a look of pure surprise. He was going to share a bed with you. He was going to sleep in the same bed as a girl he has always believed was incredibly attractive. Peter looked around awkwardly, not knowing exactly what to do. Should he change? Should he just wear jeans to bed? What side would she want?

“You wearing that?” he heard from behind him. When he turned he saw you standing there in shorts and a shirt he recognized as his own. 

“When did you take that?” Peter laughed, pointing towards the shirt. 

“Two years ago, you were staying with Ned one night. My parents were fighting really bad, so I went to see Aunt May,” you explained, nearing Peter, “I ended up staying the night with her. She let me borrow some of your clothes. I think she knew that I liked you. But I ended up stealing this shirt.”

“You liked me?” 

“If I were being honest,” you spoke slowly as you came to a stop in front of him, keeping eye contact the entire time, “I still do.” 

“You do?” Peter asked with a giddy smile, his eyes roaming your body for a short moment. You nodded, redirecting your attention to the floor. Peter grinned before reaching forward and grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you closer to him, “Well that’s a relief. I thought it was one sided.” 

You looked up at him shyly, “It definitely isn’t.”

“Thank God,” he whispered, his eyes flickering down to your lips a few times before bending down and pressing his lips against yours tightly. 

His hand left yours, instead wrapping itself around your back and pulling you closer into him. You could feel his smile against your lips and he felt yours too. Your hands trailed up the sides of his arms into his hair, tugging gently on the roots. You wanted more. Right now every single nerve in your body was shooting distress signals all at once. Chill bumps shot to attention under the feeling of his skin against yours. Hair stood on its ends. Every bit of your body was shooting with electricity and the more his body is pressed against yours, the more friction grows and the needier you become. There was something about him, about the way his lips were so soft yet so demanding against yours that made you wonder how they would feel against other sections of your body. Against every section of your body. 

“Peter,” you mumbled against his lips. Immediately he detached himself, looking down at you with worry. You could see the way he looked at you, wondering if he had overstepped or if he had messed up. But you just smiled, “I want to try something else if you’re okay with that?” 

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you-” but before he could continue his question, you took hold of his hands and guided them to the hem of your shirt, gesturing to him to remove it. He looked into your eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Most definitely.” 

Peter hesitantly lifted the shirt off your body, his eyes never leaving yours in case there was any spark of uncertainty. But it never showed. Peter dropped the shirt onto the floor beside you, finally taking a moment to admire your body. His lips stayed parted as he stood there and took in the sight of your body. He took his time in memorizing each and every curve, dimple, and stretch mark. Every beautiful aspect of your body became another bullet to add to the list of things that he loves about you. 

“Peter?” you asked worriedly, insecurity suddenly invading your mind. You instinctively raised your arms to cover yourself but Peter’s hand shot out and held them, stopping you from hiding yourself.

“Don’t,” he said sternly, his eyes finally meeting yours once more, “You’re beautiful. You’re absolutely stunning, Y/N. I just wanted a moment to memorize it.” Your face turned bright red at his words. You didn’t believe you were those things, but Peter said it with such certainty that it must have been. So you once again uncovered yourself, allowing him a moment to see you. Peter smiled down at you, “Actually, I’m finished for now.” 

His hands once again roamed your body. Bumps formed and followed after his moving hands, spreading tingles across your bare body. His lips were pressed against yours, both moving at a slow pace. But then they trailed away, down your cheek and across your jawline. Kisses were lightly peppered down your neck, causing your head to lull to the side with pleasure. As your head began to dip backwards, his hands trailed up your arms and into your hair, tugging it down to expose more of your flesh to him. His kisses went slower, almost agonizingly so, causing little moans to rumble out your throat. 

“God,” Peter growled against your neck. You could feel his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin, “Get prepared to do that all night.” 

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to say something like that. It wasn’t like you were going to complain either. Honestly, you liked it. A lot. But you didn’t have much time to think about it because Peter ended up lifting you up onto his hips and turning your back to the bed and laying you down. You watched in awe as Peter straightened back up for just enough time to yank off his shirt before lowering his body against yours. His hands immediately found the underside of your knee, yanking it up against his side as he kissed your lips. He grinded against you slowly, causing you to desperately grasp onto his hair. 

“Y/N,” Peter breathed out against your lips, you pulled back and looked at him, “Babygirl, I want you on top.” You felt your heart begin to beat faster at his words, especially the nickname. You were pretty sure that he could easily talk you into homicide by calling you that. You nodded unsurely at him, “Don’t worry. If you ever get uncomfortable we can always stop or switch back. Don’t be shy to tell me, okay?” 

You nodded at him, a bigger blush coming onto your face as he lifted you onto his hips with ease. Peter didn’t stop for a moment. The second that you were set back down, he kept himself propped up enough with the hotel pillows to take hold of your cheek and guide your lips towards his. He used his free hand rest on your hip, using slow motions to instruct you to grind against him. There was something about his total change in character that had you completely smitten to him. One second Peter was sweet, innocent, and cute… and now he was causing sensations throughout your body that not even you knew were possible. 

Peter’s hand on your hip eventually began to leave its spot. You could feet the ghost of his fingertips nearing your bra straps. A swarm of chills erupted on the middle of your back when his fingers finally were placed. At first you thought that he was just going to undo the straps, but instead he pulled his lips away from yours, “Can I?” he asked you seriously, looking into your eye for any doubt or discomfort. 

“Please,” you said in a small voice, causing a dirty smirk to grace his lips. You felt your stomach spinning at the way Peter, who is always so sweet and innocent, just looked at you with so much lust it almost felt pornographic on its own. Your legs slightly squeezed together at the feeling, alerting Peter of his effect on you. His smirk only grew at the realization. 

“Please what?” he asked you teasingly, his eyes flicking down to your lips. 

“I don’t know,” you whined loudly, squirming uncomfortably on his lap, “Please just do something.”

Seeming satisfied with your answer, Peter unclipped your bra with ease and threw it across the room. Then, in one quick movement, Peter had you pressed against the mattress with his lips assaulting your neck. Your mouth shot open into an ‘o’ position, lusty whines filling the air. Peter greedily massaged your breasts with one hand while the other stayed clenching onto the mattress as if he was struggling to keep himself from losing control. Your hands tugged on his hair harshly, unable to stop your body from shaking underneath his touch. Feeling the way his hips were rocking against yours and feeling the pressure of his bulge slowly pressing itself against your sensitive core, they were driving you absolutely nuts.

“I need more,” you pleaded with him, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, “Please I can’t take anymore.” 

Peter shushed you, “Be patient with me, babygirl.”

Your breathing quickened at the name. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to hear him call you that while pressing himself into you. The last thing you wanted to be was patient, and you weren’t going to just sit there and be obedient when you knew what you wanted. 

“I don’t want to be patient,” you sassed out sternly, looking up at him with pouted lips. Peter watched you with an amused grin. 

“It’s funny how you think you’re in charge,” Peter whispered darkly against your ear, “Now be a good girl and be patient. You know, or we can just go to bed?” 

“No please,” you jumped, “Don’t stop. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Peter nodded with a satisfied grin but didn't say anything else. Instead he lowers his body onto yours once more, his lips hungrily catching yours. You didn’t waste a single second in kissing him back, letting every emotion you were feeling seep into him with every desperate embrace. Peter’s fingers crept underneath the waistband of your shorts and underwear, slowly sliding them down your thighs until you were able to kick them off onto the floor. You thought that he would go to undo his own pants, but instead you felt the pad of his thumb press against your heat. Instantly you pressed your arms against his shoulders, causing Peter to retract his hand quickly and look at you with worry.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” you forced out, trying your best to level your breathing, “I don’t think… I mean, I do-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Peter comforted you, “You’re not ready for that part. It’s okay. Just tell me what you are comfortable with, tell me what it is you want to happen. Or if you want us to stop, we can stop right now. I’ll go buy some dinner and we can watch Netflix.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you assured him, “I want you to do something else…”

Peter nodded, “We can do that…”

“Did you bring… you know?” 

Peter’s eyes shot open for a moment. He totally forgot. The two of you looked at each other for a moment, completely unsure of how to go from here. It took a moment but then Peter’s head shot up, “I know where I can get one though.” 

You immediately knew what he was talking about, causing a groan to escape your lips, “Flash.” 

“I don’t care if the whole world knows what we’re about to do,” Peter told you with a smile, “But I don’t know how you feel about it. I can get one from him, but there is no guarantee he will keep it to himself.” 

For a moment you thought about this, about what each decision would cost. Getting protection from Flash would mean everyone knowing that you and Peter had sex, or at least planned to. Not getting the protection meant that the two of you stayed off the radar for a while. It also meant no sex right now. 

Honestly, you didn’t mind everyone knowing. At least this way it meant that everyone knew Peter was taken from now on. 

“You want to ask him or me?” 

Peter looked at you with surprise, “Really? You don’t mind everyone knowing?” 

“I’d rather people knew that you were taken.” 

“Okay. You,” he said before wetting his bottom lip, “Don’t move an inch. I’ll be right back.” 

You watched as Peter stumbled out of the room as quickly as possible. His hair was disheveled and he was not wearing a shirt, plus his back was already littered in an array of scratches. Not enough though, you were planning on adding a lot more. 

-

Peter stumbled through the halls until he reached the room that Flash was staying in. He tried to knock on the door at a normal volume and pace, but something about the fact that in his room there was a very attractive and very naked girl waiting in the bed for him kind of made it a little harder and faster than he had intended. So when Flash opened the door, he looked at Peter in alarm.

“What do you want?” Flash asked Peter with an annoyed sigh. 

Peter didn’t have time to argue with Flash, so he spoke as clearly as he can, “Flash, I will give you ten dollars for a condom right now. You can mock and ask questions or whatever all day tomorrow but right now I need you to just hand me it and let me go.” 

Flash stared at Peter for a moment before bursting out laughing, “Oh my god. What poor desperate chick did you convince to sleep with you?” 

“I will tell you if you give me a condom, I promise I answer just about any question you have if you hand me the condom.” 

Flash laughed and fished two condoms out of his pocket before slapping them into Peter’s palm, “Alright now spill.” 

“Can’t talk now,” Peter said before turning around and rushing back to the room, “Thanks!” 

Flash watched in awe as Peter ran into your room, realization hitting him immediately. 

“Damn Parker,” Flash muttered as he closed the door, “First time I’ll admit I’m jealous of the dude.” 

-

You watched as Peter ran into the room with two sealed packets in his hands. Without missing a beat, Peter ripped off his jeans and underwear before sliding the condom onto himself. You watched him with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Peter finished and walked over to you, taking hold of your feet and pulling you towards him. You yelped in surprise but it was quickly stifled by Peter’s mouth once again entrapping yours. One of his hands desperately ran through your hair, curling it into his fist and pulling you down against the bed slowly. His body followed yours until your back was completely laid against the mattress. When you were laid down fully, Peter used his free hand to cradle your ass and push you further up on the bed. Once he made enough room on the bed for him to join you, he coaxed your legs to open wide enough to shape against his body. When he was satisfied with the distance, he climbed onto the bed above you, breaking the kiss momentarily. 

“Before I do this,” Peter said seriously, “I want to make sure that this is what you want.” 

“It is, Peter,” you said again, “I promise you I want this.”

Peter nodded, “If it hurts or you feel like you want to stop, please tell me.”

“I promise I will,” you assured him, leaning forward to press a kiss against Peter’s lips. 

Peter nodded, continuing with his actions. He kept his eyes on your face as he slowly entered you. He watched as your eyes screwed shut, how your lips parted and became almost instantly dry. He listened to the little sounds that escaped your lips, the high pitched breathy moans that fought their way out past your lips. He felt the way your back arched at the immense pleasure taking over your body. And he was falling in love with it all.

“More,” you whimpered out to him. Peter responded immediately, slowly thrusting in and out of you. He held on tightly to the headboard of the bed, watching your facial expressions morph into unadulterated euphoria with each thrust. Peter’s control over his body was slowly fading away. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to keep himself at this pace, but he didn’t want to be too rough with you. Peter kept himself on a steady rhythm, doing his best to keep himself from hurting her. But when her eyes opened and rolled back into her skull, Peter lost it for just a second. He thrusted a bit harder than he meant to which caused you to clench yourself around him in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Peter wanted to apologize but the second he resumed his normal pace, you lustfully grabbed at Peter, trying to pull him into you. 

“Faster,” you cried out, “Please. Stop holding back.” 

Peter wanted to argue with you, but he heard the way you begged him. You were one hundred percent serious. So Peter did as you asked and eased his way towards a faster pace. You were a moaning mess underneath the boy, unable to control any of your body as it convulsed with pleasure. You had never felt something like this before. 

“I want on top,” you panted to him. Peter didn’t argue for a second before flipping the two of you around. You eased yourself down onto him, a strangled moan forcing itself out of your mouth. Peter watched you once more as you began slowly rocking your hips, taking control of the pace. At first you were slow, almost unsure, but as you grew used to the sensation it became a lot faster. 

“God you look so hot right now, babygirl.” 

At his words you felt your orgasm coming near. Feeling the knot forming in your stomach caused you to release a loud moan, “Please keep calling me that.” 

Peter smirked at your request, “You like that, babygirl?” 

You couldn’t reply, the feeling taking over your body was too strong. Peter felt himself nearing as well, so he wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted you up slightly, “Tell me how you like this then, babygirl.” 

Without leaving anytime for you to wonder what was going to happen, Peter began to quickly thrust himself into you. The feeling hit you all at once, causing you to scream out in pleasure. Peter listened to the sound of you coming undone in his arms, feeling himself getting closer to the edge. 

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Peter instructed you, not lessening his pace even for a moment. You nodded, feeling the knot inside of you begging to burst. Peter thrusted a single giant thrust, succeeding in sending you both over the edge. Peter held you tightly, helping you ride out your highs together. You moaned out incoherent words and sentences, but the one thing that he could understand was that you were screaming out Peter’s name. If Flash hadn’t told everyone already, then they definitely knew now. Once your moans turned into just heavy breathing, Peter slowly lifted you off of his lap and laid you gently on the bed beside him. Seeing as it was your first time there was a bit of blood that had seeped into the sheets. You looked up at Peter sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “We can go get different sheets?” 

“It’ll be okay for tonight,” Peter assured you, leaning over and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. He got off of the bed for a moment to clean himself up before coming over to the side of the bed you were laying across, “I know you’re probably hurting right now. So how about I run you a hot bath? I can either help you bathe or I can wait out here. It’s up to you.” 

You smiled sheepishly, “We could both use a bath, don’t you think?”

Peter laughed and nodded, “Alright. I’ll start the bath. Do not move an inch.”

You rolled over onto your side, watching as Peter walked into the bathroom. You never thought much into what your first time would be like. But if you had, it would be this. Everything about what just happened was perfect. And you wanted to do it again.

Werewolf

Summary: Newt/Reader; Reader’s a werewolf, when Newt tries to show Leta, not knowing it’s actually you, the other students see. Newt gets expelled based on “making the werewolf attack Leta”

You hated the pain that came with the shifting but you hated how long it took you to shift through the memories from the night before that happened more. You only get flashes from what’s happened when you wake; curling under a stump in the forest you stagger up; memories flashing as the night unfolds in pieces. You can see yourself changing; the ache and cracking of bones covers the sound of twigs snapping as a figure throws a large hunk of meat towards you. Your wolf self eats it in moments and you can feel the way the sleeping draught settles on your bones; your mind sluggish and the urge to kill failing from both the draught and your stomach being full.

You make your way towards the school, hovering and knowing leaving the forest would be dangerous you’re about to return to it but you see a girl standing fearfully watching you before she yelps shoving herself backwards. Newt fills your vision blocking you from seeing the girl and you seem worried when he shouts for you to go back to the forest. The girl shouts hurling a hex towards you and you snarl growling as she tries to pull Newt back and they both run towards the school; your wolf overrides the desire to not hurt Newt as you chase them; before you realize there are more students and teachers gathering and you run back to the forest shaking and waiting out the rest of the night.

You rush up the headmasters steps, taking them two at a time until you’re sliding into the room as the door closes. “Now Newton; we’ve been told there was an incident regarding one of your creature friends. Leta was almost attacked.” “My daughter-“ “Mr. Lestrange; please.” “We’ve heard other students talking about it; and both you and Ms. Lestrange confirmed you were in the forest and were chased by what the others are saying was a werewolf.” “Well yes; but she didn’t want to hurt us. I’ve been studying her; and Leta came up behind me and scared me; which scared her and then-“ “The werewolf wouldn’t have let you get anywhere near it.”

“I fed it a sedative potion. Just a diluted sleeping draught. She wouldn’t hurt me. Or Leta; Leta just scared her. She was just scared.” He repeats the Headmaster sighs watching Dumbledore nod towards him. “Well Newt; we’re going to have to take serious action. If you’re going to stick up for this werewolf and not help us catch it; then we have no choice but to expel you.” “Expel?” His parents gasp and you cringe. “You helped a creature attack another student. By doing nothing you aided it in the attack.” The headmaster speaks; and Leta’s father nods.

The headmaster dismisses everyone and he and Dumbledore turn to talk. “Ms. Y/N everyone can leave that includes you.” “If I know where the werewolf is; will you not expel Newt?” “We would consider it.” “Do you know where it is?”  Dumbledore crouches down slightly and looks at you. You’re starting to shake and your voice fails you before you nod. “Can you tell us?” You chew your lip. “What will happen to the werewolf if I do?” The headmaster shrugs. “Most likely it will be taken to the ministry for evaluation; depending on how many it has killed it will either be arrested or killed.” “Killed?” You hesitate and the Headmaster sighs.

“Y/N. I understand being friends with Mr. Scamander has warped your perception; but Werewolves are not people anymore; they’re mindless creatures. It would be best for everyone for you to tell us what you know.” You swallow and shake your head. “I don’t want to hurt it.” You mumble and the headmaster sighs nodding to his door. “Get out then.” You nod and let Dumbledore walks you out and towards the hufflepuff common room. “Y/N it will be alright.” He comforts and you realize you’re crying. “No it wont! I messed everything up!” “No; not telling on the werewolf was a good thing.”

“No! Now Newt’s gonna get expelled and it’s all my fault cause I got scared. I don’t wanna die but I don’t wanna get him in trouble just cause I got scared!!” “What happened?” “Newt was just sitting there drawing and Leta came up and yelled and told him to run back and he said she was just overreacting and then she tried to hex me! I dunno what it was but it didn’t hit me cause Newt knocked her outta the way. I just got scared after that cause she pulled him away.” Dumbledore nods and then sighs. “I might be able to convince the headmaster to just expel Newt for the remainder of the term; which will only be the time after Christmas break until the next year; nothing so serious as forever.”

You peer into the common room relieved that no one seems to be lounging around; you know you look a mess; dirt smeared on your face and clothes; but you clutch at Newts sketchbook and journal he’d left in the forest. After Dumbledore had left you in front of the common room you’d gone back into the forest for it. You move as silently as you can trying to stick to the wall as you make it to the girl’s dormitory. “Y/N.” You jump when Newt calls out to you and he backs up slightly. “Sorry Y/N.” “No you don’t need to be sorry; I just- here.” You offer him the notebooks out and he blinks in surprise. “Where did you get these?”

“The were uh, near the edge of the forest.” You shrug and he watches you for a moment but nods. “Thank you.” He smiles softly and you nod back. “I’m really sorry about all this mess Newt. We all know that you didn’t mean any harm and Leta was just frightened when she tried to hex me and even then I don’t blame either of you and- Sorry I’m rambling again.” Newt nods and you nervously play with your sleeve. He pulls you into a hug and you bury your face into his shoulder. “Don’t want you to get expelled.” “It’ll be okay Y/N.”

When Newt returns from his summons back to the headmasters office he relays that he’d been told to gather his things and that he’ll be allowed to return after the year finishes. The hufflepuffs block the common room door on purpose; and even the portrait refuses to open for the headmaster and Newt’s parents; you wonder how silly it looks; all three of them trying to desperately tickle the pear with no change. Theseus is ten minutes away from finishing a very rushed batch of polyjuice potion which almost all of the boys in Newt’s year are determined to take. He assures everyone he’s actually winning out; getting an extra long Christmas holidays and everyone seems to agree that’s why they want to take the polyjuice anyways. He says his goodbye’s to everyone and Theseus rushes him slightly when it comes to you; you’re confused but so is Newt before his mother’s hand pulls him through the doorway.

You get the letter a week later; after Theseus had grabbed it and ripped it open for you. “Theseus!!” you frown when he holds it above your head before offering it out. “You want me over for Christmas holidays?” You grin at him and he rolls his eyes. “Newt does; well so do my parents they want to meet the person that has Newt so besotted.” “Besotted?” You stare at him and Theseus grins. “He’ll kill me for saying anything but everyone knows he fancies you.” “He doesn’t fancy me Theseus you’re lying!” You narrow your eyes. “We can see when we get to the train station; if he’s there waiting it means he fancies you.” “How does that prove anything?” “He’ll have come in on a hippogriff.” “No he won’t that’s ridiculous Thee.” You swat at him but he just laughs and shoves you towards the girls dormitory.

You sigh nervously. Watching as the train slows into the main station; Thesues grins nodding towards the platform and you peer out to see his parents; Newt standing right next to them, his hair looking windblown. “Why a hippogriff?” You grumble and Theseus grins. “Well you’ve said you’ve never ridden one before; now you’ll have.” “No there’s no way..” You trail off when newt looks nervous. “So Y/N, since you’ve never ridden on a hippogriff.” “You did not bring one here???” You squeal slightly and he grins nodding.

“Why on earth would I think that you were going to hurt me? You of all people, you couldn’t hurt your friend.” You tremble stepping backwards slightly and Newt frowns. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong again?” He drops his hands and you scurry forward. “You called me a person.” “You are.” “I’m a werewolf.” You breathe out and he nods your eyes widening again. “You knew?” “Of course; it’s why I know you’d never hurt me.” “Theseus says you fancy me.” You blurt out hoping to disturb the awkward silence. “Oh, he did?” You nod when Newt’s face falls.

“Yeah which surprised me cause I always thought you were sweet on Leta and wouldn’t be interested in me anyways and then there’s the whole werewolf thing cause i’m not a person anymore and-“ “You are a person or I just kissed a wolf.” Newt pulls back after he’d leaned forward to press his lips to yours. “Well you did.” You both turn to see Theseus leaning against the doorway. Newt hurls a pillow and a boil hex at him as he runs back towards the kitchen. “Dinners ready!” Theseus shouts when he’s a safe distance away. “Wonderful!” Newt shouts back and you follow him to the dining room where he’s glaring at Theseus and his mother is trying not to laugh.

Support My Writing?

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter 4: Ferry Tickets

fuckbuddy!JJ x kook!reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?

note: smut ... like right under here 

“Fuuuck me,” you whimpered, face pressed down to your floral pillowcase. 

“You like that don’t you?” JJ’s hand twisted your hair as the other smacked the side of your ass while he slid himself in and out of you from behind. 

Ted and your mom went into the city for a few days while Macy was off at her tennis lesson which left you with an big empty house for the morning. You had contemplated doing a sunrise yoga on the beach or riding your bike along the pier, but a surprise text from JJ had you cancelling all your self-care plans. 

Which is how you ended up in your current position- under him, back arched, and feeling his thick cock stretch you out. 

“Mm,” you whined, lifting your eyes to his hungry ones as you watched him take you. You felt the cold metal from his rings cling onto your sweaty skin when his hands moved to grip both sides of your hips. 

“Mm, play with me.” 

JJ’s hands snaked around to your wet clit where he gently rubbed you back and forth. It sent you over the edge as you moaned louder into the pillow you were clenching. 

He came into the condom and pulled out of you, collapsing onto your side in a fit of pants. His gold locks were disheveled on his face as his broad chest heaved up and down. You laid in your current position for a few moments, collecting yourself, before springing to the bathroom to get cleaned up. 

You expected him to be gone once you got out, but, much to your surprise, JJ was still submerged in your fluffy white comforter, underwear on, scrolling through his phone. Slightly taken aback, you flopped down next to him. 

You and JJ had this unspoken no cuddling or pillow talk rule, but you decided that, after three months of fooling around, you could at least engage in small talk. 

“Why’d you call me up so early?” you asked, hugging your knees. 

“I was at the store and saw your parents getting gas to leave town. Didn’t see you in the car so I thought you’d be home alone,” he smirked, still glued to his phone, “and I was right.”  

JJ paid a lot of attention to little things- more so than you thought. Here and there he’d bring up a small fact he remembered about you like how you’d braid your hair before swimming or how he saw you talking to someone he thought you didn’t like. It was odd, but you pushed it aside. 

Another thing that always fazed you about him was why he was so open to sleeping with you. You assumed it was him getting off on the satisfaction of fucking a Kook, but the hateful remarks he made the other day on the boat with Rafe confused you. 

“Since when did you start hanging out with Topper and Rafe?” he asked, tossing his phone to the side.

You didn’t expect that question from him. “I don’t. Jade just dragged me with her because she’s trying to get with Rafe.” 

JJ snorted. “Oh Jade... she has a nice rack. And she can do way better than him, he looks like a celery.” 

You giggled at his uncanny comparison. “Hey JJ.” 

He lifted his eyebrows, leaning over on his side. “It was you that day wasn’t it? The day you caught me smoking, you’re the one who fucked up Topper’s bike.” 

You had always wondered what on earth JJ was running from the day you two met. You almost forgot about it until Topper brought up his messed up bike on the boat. You remembered hearing him whine about it months ago during class, the Monday after, and mentally put the pieces together. 

“What’s it to ya?” JJ responded, growing peeved. 

You shrugged. “Just wondering. I just don’t get this war between you guys. It’s honestly ridiculous, like what good is throwing shit at each other or punching each other gonna do?” 

The light-haired boy groaned and sat up in annoyance. “Of course you wouldn’t get it. You’re a fucking Kook. You can do whatever the hell you want- buy whatever you want, hurt whoever you want- and get away with it. Nothing ever affects you because at the end of the day, you just come straight home to your gated neighborhood with not a spec on your back. You’ll never know what it’s like to not have everything you want!” 

You scoffed and crossed your arms, standing from the bed to get away from him. “Well guess what, prick? I actually do know what it’s like. I didn’t always have this stupid life!” 

You ran your hands through your hair and avoided his gaze. That was probably the first time you confessed that out loud to someone since you moved. You heard JJ shift a little on your bed as pure silence soon enveloped you both. 

Since he was already there, why not just let the entire cat out the bag?

“I use to live in a small town outside of Charlotte. My parents didn’t have a lot but they tried to give me and my sister everything they could. My dad would come home late sometimes- there were days when we wouldn’t even see him. My mom sold clothes, shoes, hats, anything she could make at home so we could eat.” You turned to face him. “And as much as it fucking sucked, I liked it better that way than now.” 

“So what happened?” JJ peered up at you with sheer orbs and, for a moment, you forgot about his tactless, cold-blooded self. 

You sighed and pursed your lips. “My parents divorced because my dad kept having to leave and I moved homes for a few years. Then my mom met Ted and I was, unwillingly, initiated to this Kook life.” 

JJ lifted his eyebrows in shock. “You know most people see that as a like a Cinderella story.” 

“Well I see it like hell.” 

He let out a soft chuckle. 

“I know I should be more grateful of everything, but it’s just hard. And weird.” You’re back sitting beside him on the bed at this point. “Like, I’m just not use to this. I’ve never had a phone with internet until now and my mom keeps wanting me to pretend I’m some preppy fairy. And the kids here all suck. They have no personality other than their clothes and cars, and they don’t like me cause I don’t give a shit about that stuff. I really do hate it here. And I miss my dad. I haven’t seen him in years.” 

You plopped your head on the pillow and stared at your ceiling. It was nice to get all that off your chest, especially to JJ who’s been shoving his preconceived notions down your throat. 

“Well I almost feel sorry for you,” JJ said jokingly as you playfully shoved him. 

“But I get it, kinda. I don’t know. My mom passed away, so it’s just me and my dad. He’s,” he paused for a moment, “he has his quirks, you can say. We don’t get along too well, and he’s too busy working to really give me any real attention. It sucks.” 

“I’m sorry,” you comforted as he maneuvered so he was laying down next to you. You both rested side by side, fixated on your plain white ceiling. It was nice to finally talk to JJ without making a snide comment every two seconds. 

“Do you think it’ll get any better?” you asked, out of the blue. 

“You wanna know the truth?” You turned to your side, tucking your arm under your head, ready for his spiel. 

“I think we’re where we are for a reason. Do I wanna get the fuck outta here sometimes? Yeah. But I just know I’m meant to have this life and there’s not much I can do to get out. Just gotta take it day by day.” 

“C’mon, you never dreamed of going anywhere else in the world? Traveling?” you raised, a bit more enthusiastic than you intended to let on. 

JJ exhaled. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

The two of you laid in a comfortable silence for a while longer. There was, finally, an air of understanding between you.

“Why don’t you come to our side then?” JJ asked after a few minutes. “If you hate it here in Kookville so much, why don’t you try the other end for a change?” 

“I don’t know. My stepdad thinks The Cut is literally a death wish. He wouldn’t even let my mom go grocery shopping near there. It’s honestly kinda weird to me why he hates it so much.” 

“And he never told you why?” 

You shook your head and JJ retreated in thought. “I think he’s hiding something. Probably has a mistress over there to be honest.” 

You laughed and hit his stomach. “No! Him and my mom are literally attached by the hip! I don’t know... One day Macy went over to see a friend she met and he just flipped. Went over, took her away and everything. Maybe he’s just classist. I mean, he’s old money so I wouldn’t be surprised. But if he is then he wouldn’t have married my mom.” 

“Maybe...” JJ muttered. “I still think he’s hiding something. Could be drugs. You know I see Kook guys come over for coke sometimes. Then, on their lunch breaks, their dads come for the same thing. Father and son bonding if you ask me.” 

“Well, whatever it is, we can add this case to our mystery book,” you laughed. A real, heartfelt laugh. 

You and JJ spent the remainder of the morning talking about your lives, learning how wrong you each were about the other. He told you about the Pogues and how his friend Kiara, who you recognized from school, hangs out with them despite being wealthy herself. On the other hand, you continued to complain to him about all the stuck up nonsense your mother would make you do- to which he actively listened and pitched in his own amusing opinions. 

“What do you need etiquette lessons for? How hard is it to stick your pinky out when you drink?” 

The topic then switched to Topper and his crew. You settled on calling them the Veggie Tales which made you both erupt in laughter. “What was your first time like?” you asked bluntly. 

He threw you an odd look, but continued. “Tourist at a party. I was 15 and I think she was 17? I dunno, but she sure showed me the ropes that night.” He beamed up at the ceiling, thinking back to the time. 

“Aren’t all first times supposed to be really awkward and bad?” 

“Maybe. I don’t really remember it. Just her. She was fine as hell,” he had on his dreamy eyes. “What was your’s like?” 

You let out a sharp breath. You’d never told anyone about it until now. “Before I left the city I was dating this guy for a little while. He came from farmers, so we did it in his uncles barn.” 

“Aw, how romantic,” JJ commented before you smacked him with a decorative pillow. 

“Ow! What? I thought every girl’s dream was to do it with the chickens watching.” 

Your face knotted. “It was horses. And I still have nightmares to this day about the hay sticking at my ass.” 

The boy next to you snickered and went on to tease you about your story, cracking all the farm jokes his little blonde head could come up with. 

“I should get going soon,” JJ informed when you both settled down, “Thursdays I meet Kie at The Wreck to help out.” 

Your eyes jolted. “Thursday?!” 

You soared up from your bed and checked the time on your phone. “Fuck fuck fuck!” Your hands tangled up in your hair in stress. “My debutante lessons!”

“What the fuck is that?” 

“I have to go to Chapel Hill, my ferry leaves in 20 minutes,” you explained while hastily shoving heels into your canvas bag. Then it occurred to you that your parents took your car because theirs was in the shop. 

“Fuck! JJ did you drive here?” 

“Yeah, I parked my friend’s van by the gate,” he answered, still confused at the gibberish you spoke moments ago. 

“JJ I need you to take me to the dock right now! Please! I can’t miss this ferry.” 

“Alright, alright, hurry up then woman! The van only goes up to 110 on a good day.” JJ struggled to get his clothes back on and didn’t even notice his t-shirt on backwards.

You both sprinted out your house and to the front of the neighborhood, past the gate, and towards a clunky old Volkswagen that was parked on the side of the road. You hurried in as JJ fumbled with the keys before thrusting it in the ignition and speeding off towards the dock. 

“Fuck we’re not gonna make it!” you stressed, balling your sweaty palms, as your legs bounced on the torn up seat.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! She’s old but just give her a minute,” JJ assured before he revved the engine and flew down the street. You were concerned at how he expertly steered the old clunker at 105 miles per hour but were too anxious about missing your trip to bring it up. 

He finally pulled up to the side of the dock. You sighed in relief, seeing people still boarding.

“Aaand here we are! With 3 minutes to spare,” JJ announced, flipping his blonde locks, proud of his Speed Racer work. 

“Thank you for the ride JJ,” you said as you exited the van, “and the heart attack.” 

“Hey, you got here in once peace didn’t you? So I don’t wanna hear it!” 

You giggled and shut the door, heading towards the herd of people while you dug in your bag for your ferry ticket. 

“Have fun at your degenerate lessons!” JJ called out the window at you before speeding away. 

You shook your head with a goofy grin before getting on. 

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

chapter five

tags: @starkeybaby​ @obxlife​ @everydayimfangirling​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @tangledinsparkles​ @poguesrforlife​ @thx-quxxn​ @obxmxybxnk​ @rororo06​ @poguesforlife​ @ilymarkchan​ @outrbanks​ @hazelgirl355 @hsunflower @cinnamon-roll-seth​ @alotbnouf @tembo-ndoto​

T.C. fluff:  Being Timothée’s co-star in an upcoming romantic drama, and having a long weekend off together to explore the coastal European city you’re filming in

“Wow, this is beautiful.” You hugged your rolled-up towel close to your chest, the view of a crowded beach, sparkling crystal blue water and colourful umbrellas lining the sand awaiting you. 

“Oui, c’est très beau,” Timothee agreed, playfully nudging your shoulder, guiding you to follow him down onto the sand. You slipped off your shoes and the two of you began meandering through the endless sea of warm sand and towels, eventually finding vacant real estate between a young family and a group of women bathing in the sun. It was Timothee’s idea to explore the French town you were filming in together while you had a few days off, and as you laid down your towel, and Timothee retrieved containers of strawberries and savoury biscuits from his backpack, you couldn’t believe you’d thought of spending your Friday any other way. 

You talked and ate and waded into the water, splashing each other and jumping over waves. And when you weren’t doing that, you alternated between reading your script and a novel while Timothee laid on his stomach, headphones on, head resting on his arms.   You couldn’t quite tell behind his sunglasses, but judging by how you’d finished reading an entire chapter and he hadn’t moved a muscle, you assumed he’d fallen asleep. Under the sun block and daylight, his pale skin seemed to glow. His hair a perfectly messy mop, grains of sand nestled into the ends of his curls. Timothee really did have perfect features. You could objectively see that now that you were really looking at him. Bold eyebrows poking over the tops of his sunglasses, strong nose, angelic lips- “You staring at me?” You quickly looked out towards the water, resting your chin onto your knees and hugging your legs. “No, just checking if you were awake.” He rolled over, stretching out. “I am now.” Checking the time on his watch, he added, “Shit. We’ve been here for hours.” He reached out and picked up one of the few remaining uneaten strawberries by its stalk while you packed away your books into your bag. “Do you feel like getting dinner?” he asked, tossing the leafy remains into the pile you’d made as you ate.   “Yes,” you eagerly nodded your head. Laying out on the sand all day really worked up your appetite. Already feeling drowsy from the fresh air and too much sun, you followed Timothee’s lead from the shore to the row of bars and cafes lining the beach. He led you inside the doors of a quaint pub; one hand holding the door open, the other on the small of your back. A live band was set up on the raised stage towards the back, playing acoustic French music for those enjoying meals and post-work drinks. You found a seat at the bar, sharing bread and wine, your heart swelling the more time you spent learning the workings of Timothee’s mind. You could’ve sat all night with your chin in the palm of your hand, listening to him rattle on about his favourite directors and film theories and character studies, then abruptly stop himself with an embarrassed laugh, running his palms down his thighs. “Anyway,” he laughed, shaking his head. He finished his drink, then tuned into the DJ who’d since replaced the initial band. “Wanna dance?” Several drinks in and hours of dancing later, you were still on the dance floor with a drink in hand.  As the night went on, every time your head spin subsided, Timothee was either dragging you through the crammed bodies back over to the bar or replacing empty glasses in your hand with overflowing cups of alcohol. After the fourth glass exchange, you put an arm around his neck to pull his ear down to be level with your lips. While your thoughts were still somewhat coherent, your words were a little slurred. “Timmy, maybe you should slow down a bit.” As you were speaking, the ABBA remix playing faded into Kid Cudi, and you watched as your words fell onto deaf ears. Timothee’s face lit up and he shouted, “FUCK YEAH!” raising his free arm above his head. Your eyes followed his movements as he sang along to every word, big grin on his face, never stopping to breath; only pausing for a sip of his drink.   Before you knew what was happening, your back was against the wall and Timothee’s lips on yours. But just as quickly as he had kissed you, he was pulling back, flicking his hair back and shouting the next lyric through a tipsy grin. As the chorus started for a second time, he caught sight of you watching him, wide eyed and in a daze, and set his empty glass down as you reached to grab his waist. He stepped in to kiss you again; this time harder, longer and deeper.   The remainder of the night became hazier and hazier; only blurred visions of licking salt off the back of your hand and clinking shot glasses, jumping and spinning around the dance floor, and your fingers getting caught in Timothee’s salty curls remained. * An instant ache shot through the middle of your forehead as you blinked your eyes open, and you groaned. Sheer confusion washed over you, your mind unable to piece together where you were or what day it was, until you spotted a familiar black backpack against the wall and a bottle of cologne on the dresser. Ah, Timothee’s place. Timothee’s bed, to be specific. Slowly rolling over and rubbing your eyes to look behind you, you discovered you had the bed to yourself. The other side was practically untouched, blankets still tucked under the mattress. A door creaked open, and Timothee emerged from the adjoining bathroom, dragging his feet behind him. Seeing you were awake, he changed course and climbed onto the intact side of the bed, mumbling out, ‘Morning’ in a deep, soft voice. He sat with his back to you, and the one hand cradled to your chest itched to reach forward and trace down his spine. You weren’t sure where the urge came from. Maybe because of the way his hooded eyes, drunk on tequila and European air, remained locked on yours for hours last night. How his strawberry lips sponged kisses on your cheek and neck as you waited at the bar. How his hands had so delicately clasped around your cheeks when he kissed you for real over and over and over again. It would’ve been so easy to push back the covers, walk your fingers across the mattress; to drag them up and down his back or affectionately twist the ends of his hair. But Timothee was leaning back against his pillows to lie down beside you before you could muster up the courage to do so. With interlaced fingers resting on his bare chest, he looked over to you. “How did we get home last night?” You yawned, nestling further down into the pillows. “We walked, remember?” “Oh, shit.” Timothee nodded, pursing his lips with a hum. “I feel like shit.” “You drank a lot last night,” you said softly. He licked his lips, covering his face with his hands. “Fuck.” He stayed like that for a few moments, rubbing his face, and you wondered if he’d forgotten anything else from the previous night.   “I should probably go back to mine.” He dropped his hands back to his chest, looking over again, voice gentle as he spoke. “You can stay if you want.” “No, I should go and have a shower,” you told him, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms out. Timothee’s fingertips ghosted over your neck with a small smile, and you instinctively moved your head back from under his sudden touch. “What?” He shook his head, bringing his hand back to its resting place on his chest, eyes still lazily drooped as he enquired about your plans for the rest of the evening. You pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, your hand subconsciously hovering over the spot Timothee’s had just been. “You know we have work on Monday, right? I’d like to read my lines at least once before then.” After pointing out you brought your script out with you the previous say, he added, “You have all of Sunday for that.”   You pursed your lips with a sigh. He rolled over, holding his head up with his hand. “Come on, y/n.” You evidently didn’t need much convincing, because a few hours later, you were meeting Timothee for ice cream. Desserts in hand, you found a small table outside the ice cream parlour, shaded from the orange glow of late afternoon sun by an umbrella. The two of you sat looking out at the streets, sunglasses hiding both of your dark, hungover eyes, observing the strangers passing by. And when you had the chance, you stole glances at the boy sitting across from you. When you met him out the front of the hotel, his formerly dry, sandy hair was now shiny, the ends still a little damp. He smelled fresh when you hugged him, and his jumper was soft on your cheek. He’d complimented your turtle neck top, which reminded you… “By the way,” you said, pulling Timothee’s attention from the open roads to you, “I’m not too happy with you, Timothee.” He frowned, taking another lick of his ice cream. “What the fuck did I do?” You teasingly held his stare. “Oh, I don’t know,” you said, pulling down the high neck of your top to reveal your purple stained skin. A shy smile overtook Timothee’s face and he shrugged, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, yeah. Sorry?” “Funny is it?” you mused, sliding your sunglasses down your nose to look over the frames at him. Timothee licked his melting ice cream, then said, “No, but now that you mention it, y/n, I’m mad at you too.” You slid your glasses all the way off, placing them down on the table. “Really? Why’s that?” Timothee, with a cocky smile, tugged down the chunky collar of his sweater, revealing a light bruise at the very base of his neck. You instinctively lowered your face and hid your eyes behind your free hand. “Oh my god.” Through the cracks between your fingers, you saw him smiling, bringing his cone back up to his mouth. “Forgot about that, did you?”   Dropping your hands with a laugh, you reached forward, using your thumb to push back his collar again and run your thumb over the mark you left on his pale skin. “Sorry,” you mumbled with a little pout. With an exaggerated sigh, looking up to make eye contact with Timothee, you added, “What is wrong with us?” He laughed, putting his hand on your wrist and running his thumb over your skin. “It’s alright. I forgive you.” You shook your head in mock disapproval, but there was a buzzing in your chest as you felt his lingering eyes and warm skin on yours.   You strolled back to the hotel in comfortable silence. Despite being a bundle of nerves, it was nice being with him. He made you think, and he made you feel. A man adorned in a billowing linen shirt sat on the side of the street, guitar in hand, singing a sombre tune. You slowed down along with the few other strangers who had paused to listen to the man’s song, Timothee a few paces behind you, taking his sunglasses off as he slowed. A few moments passed, and Timothee leaned down from his place behind you so that he could speak softly in your ear. “He’s singing about his lover.” Timothee paused to listen to the next line. “He doesn’t want to live without them… he feels empty… and sick… he- he’s waiting for her but… he knows she’s gone for good.” Turning over your shoulder, you pouted up at Timothee, who reciprocated the expression. “That’s so sad.” Timothee nodded. His hair flopped over his cheek, and you noticed his eyes sparkling in the golden cast of evening light. Over his shoulder, a couple held each other, longingly looking into each other’s eyes, tenderly touching each other’s cheeks. As a loaded weight settled on your chest, you looked back up at Timothee. The space between his eyebrows slightly creased and he smiled. “What?” Clicking your tongue against your teeth, and shaking your head, you answered, “Nothing.” You both knew it wasn’t nothing. With a sigh, you snuck your hand between his arm and body, grabbing onto his forearm to lead him away. “Alright, I only agreed to ice cream. Let’s go.” It was quiet when you got to your floor of the hotel, so you tried to be as silent as possible climbing the stairs, so other guests weren’t disturbed. You and Timothee were work colleagues, and friends, and his room was only ten steps further down the hall, and you were almost positive that you’d definitely be seeing him again the next day; but as he lingered by your door as you rummaged in your bag for your key, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad you were saying goodbye. Once you retrieved your key, you looked up at him with a smile. “Alright,” you said softly. “This is where I leave you.” Timothee stood by your door, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes stuck on your face. He wasn’t budging, and you weren’t game enough to break first. His messy curls flopped over his eyes again, and you pushed them back behind his ears. He held onto your wrist, slowly lowering it down to your sides. Relationships with colleagues could get messy. Everybody knew that. What does this mean for us? The words were caught in your throat. You wanted to ask; to say it out loud. But you couldn’t bring yourself to form them. Why couldn’t you just be okay with enjoying the moment? Timothee inched his head closer to yours slowly, almost unsure if it was okay. You kept your eyes lowered. “Timothee,” you whispered. “Yes,” he whispered back, resting his forehead on yours. You slowly shook your head. “I can’t.” “Why?” You didn’t respond right away, eyes still focused towards the ground, and he nudged the side of your nose with his, then pulled back from you. “Hmm?” You sighed, closing your eyes and lifting your face to his. Very slowly, he took the sides of your face into his hands. Static in the air charged your movements as his lips grazed against yours. Somehow, you simultaneously had both a million things to say, yet nothing at all. You settled on hugging him, chin resting over his shoulder. It was nice hugging him; to have him holding you close. “Good night, Timmy,” you muttered, eventually breaking free. “Good night,” he said in reply, hands sliding out from around your waist. With tingling lips, you stood up on your toes for a second to place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth once more. You unlocked your door, and while slipping inside your room, you looked over one last time at Timothee smiling. “Good night.”

May I request fluff 3 or random 1 from the prompt list with Kuroo please?? 🥺

OFCOURSE VIRI, ily baby thanks for the request, ur taste is exquisite *chefs kiss*.

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

Genre: Fluff!!

wc: 1.3K

Prompt: “Quit touching me, your feet are cold!” & “Have you seen my hoodie?” “noo”, “you’re wearing it aren’t you?”

Winter had always been a season you enjoyed, at least when you were inside. You had an excuse to comfortable spend days inside without any judgement from anyone else. You slid from under your soft covers, rubbing your eyes as you padded over to you window. It snowed, great. Every time it snowed, it felt like you could feel the freezing cold leak in through the window even if it was closed. Against your will, you made your way downstairs reaching for your favorite pick-me-up drink. Today was the first-time during winter break your boyfriend, Kuroo, had managed to coax you out of your warm cocoon that was your home. He had amazing convincing skills, it amazed you. Now, it wasn’t like you had to spend a lot of time in the cold, you had to walk through the snow however to get to him.

Once you’d finished your drink and maybe even a light snack, you went back upstairs to get dressed. While you were eyeing your closet, you wondered if there was anything else you should bring, carefully chewing the inside of your lip you decided you’d just steal something to wear as pajamas tonight. Satisfied with your clothes, you decided you’d head out, you’d rather get the commute from your house to his over with as fast as you could.

When you arrived at his front door you practically couldn’t feel your nose anymore, as much as you tried to wiggle it it seemed to have just disappeared. It made for a quite comical reunition; the door swung wide open when you were making god knows what kind of face. Tetsurou’s snort gave away that he had most definitely seen what you just did. A blush spread across your face as you took a step forward, nervously sputtering out a jumbled explanation.

Wordlessly he pulled you into his embrace, letting you know that you had nothing to be embarrassed about, you let yourself melt into it. You always enjoyed his hugs, being pulled into his warm embrace never failed to comfort you. As he pulled you inside, his chattering filled the room; he’d often rant to you about Lev or anyone else who had been slacking during practice. It was his way of letting out some steam, you listened attentively, as you always did.

While you gave him the occasional hum or nod to let him know you were still listening, occasionally quipping in with a remark, you let your jacket fall down from your shoulders. Hanging it on one of the black coat hangers in the hallway, kicking your shoes off and placing them against the wall. His eyes followed your small strides as you made your way over to him, a grin spreading across your features as you sat down on your designated space on the couch. The outer edges claimed by pillows and flannel blankets.  

“Oh! Wait a second before you start the movie, Y/N!” your boyfriend hopped up from the couch, quickly disappearing behind the wall that lead into the kitchen; As fast as he disappeared, he emerged once again holding those matching cat cups you guys had gotten as a gag once. It was meant to be a joke at first, but the cups grew on you two and were now basically the only cups you two used. Your eyes lit up at the sight of the fog rising up from the cups, it was basically a tradition to share a cup of hot chocolate together during the colder winter months. As he set himself down, lifting up his free arm, he let you nestle yourself into his side. Looking up at him to seek eye-contact you beamed at him, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you Tetsu,” he returns your kiss before mumbling a soft “you’re welcome”. You both don’t get up to much for the remainder of the day except for finishing a few movies you’d both agreed on to watch together. When it starts getting dark out, you guys move over to the kitchen to make some dinner before heading upstairs. You glance over at him as he’s pulling the ingredients out of the cupboard and fridge.  “I’m going to get changed if that’s okay,” you hop off the counter, turning on your heel and darting out of the room.

You lift your bag by the straps and swing it over your shoulder, trudging up the stairs. Once in his room, you drop the bag; you’d definitely wear the fluffy pajama bottoms you brought from home, but you hadn’t brought a top. You weren’t ashamed to admit that there was something about his hoodies that made the garment just that much more attractive to wear to you. Your eyes scanned around the room as you noticed a large black hoodie draped across his desk chair, bingo, you thought. Satisfied with your choice of sleeping attire, you made your way downstairs once again, the sound of your feet against the hardwood of the stairs must’ve let kuroo know you were coming back. His voice rang out from the kitchen, curiosity laced itself in his words,“Have you seen my hoodie?”

“Noo”,you tried to feign innocence; a mischievous smile creeped onto your face as you stopped into your tracks.

“You’re wearing it, aren’t you?”his head peeked out from the door opening, eyes ghosting over your body, a defeated sight left his lips. You tried to hold back your laughter as you saw him trying his hardest to keep his composure.

“What’s the purpose of you having a closet if you steal everything from me?” You knew he wasn’t mad, he loved it when you wore his clothes. You giggle, walking over to him and slinging your arms around his torso, your head lifted up to look at him with your best puppy-dog eyes.

“You love me,” your voice playfully retorted at his remark, his arms sliding around your waist.

“You’re lucky I do,” smiling he pulled you in for another kiss, his hand finding its way on your cheek. Letting your eyes flutter closed, letting him deepen the kiss.

“C’mon now kitten, let’s make some dinner” his voice is soft, careful almost as he twists a strand of hair around his finger; tearing his gaze away from your eyes as he bends down to rummage around in the cupboard.

You’re both next to each other, staring at one another while brushing your teeth, feet shuffling over the soft mat splayed out across the floor. You shiver, taking a step closer to your tall boyfriend.

“Don’t go stealing my heat now,” he tilts his head to look at you, a grin displayed on his face.

“I’m your s/o, it’s your duty to share with me,” you wipe your mouth, you bring your hand up to your heart in mock hurt.

“yeah yeah, whatever you say sweetheart,” he lazily looks at you, “hurry up and come to bed” he says as he slides under the covers. You put your things down and scurry after him, eager to get under the warm covers. He turns to face you, spreading his arms as an invitation to have you come lay down next to him. You wasted no time following up on his request as he glanced at you with sleepy eyes. You’re quite comfortable, but your feet feel terribly cold. You must’ve forgotten to put on socks, as you mentally reprimand yourself a slightly bad idea pops into your head. Your feet slide across the cover, making contact with his warm legs. You sigh in relief, eyes closing in satisfaction when they’re suddenly abruptly pulled away.

“Quit touching me, your feet are cold!” He hisses, suddenly wide awake as he places his hand on your hip, earning a cheeky giggle from you.

“Like I said Tetsu, sharing is caring” you reach your hand out to touch his cheek, trying to find out where his face was exactly in the dark. Once you had a rough idea of where, you lifted your head up, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Now give me those legs please, I’m cold”.

—-

Tags: @hihiq @heccingdead @mitzwinchester

Werewolf

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

Support My Writing?

Willing to Bet: Ch. 2

This was written for the SPN Stay-at-Home Challenge. @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @pray4jensen  

Monday 5: Motel (Read it on AO3)

[1754 words - Destiel, Sharing a Bed, BUT THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Bi Panic]

Last week’s fic obviously caught fire in my imagination, because not only did I write a second chapter that’s 3 times as long, but I have ideas for 3 more chapters now.

The road ahead was clear and dark. Sam had joined Eileen in Atlanta on a vamp-hunt, so Cas was currently settled in the passenger seat, relaxing back on the leather and contently watching the trees go by. He sometimes moved his hands together, twiddling his thumbs, interlacing his fingers and releasing them again, thumbing the edges of his fingernails. Dean had been stealing glances throughout their journey and noticed this habit of Castiel’s and wondered what would happen if he were to just grab his hand and hold it in his own… to stop the fidgeting, of course.

It was nearing midnight. Dean had driven through the night who knows how many times before, but he wasn’t in any hurry tonight. Sam wouldn’t be back for a few days, so there really wasn’t any reason to rush back to the bunker.

“Let’s stop for the night,” he finally said, carefully keeping his eyes on the asphalt. “Get some rest, breakfast in the morning and drive the rest tomorrow.”

Castiel’s brows twitched in question, but he just nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dean repeated, switching lanes to take the next exit.

Ten minutes later, they were driving through a quaint little old-fashioned town, each looking out the windows in search of a motel.

“Apparently outsiders aren’t welcome in friggin’ Mayberry,” Dean grumbled as they turned onto another tree lined street.

“There’s one,” Cas said after a few more minutes of Dean’s complaints.

Sure enough, a Vacancy sign was lit in the window of an office flanked by what looked more like a cluster of tiny dollhouses than the motels they typically stayed in.

“I don’t know whether to call this place cute or creepy,” Dean said as he pulled into the parking lot.

Cas grinned. “I think it’s charming.”

Dean rolled his eyes and held back a smile as they grabbed their bags from the trunk.

“Why does that not surprise me?”

They headed inside to find that the dollhouse aesthetic carried right into the motel lobby with its deep green carpeting and flowery wallpaper. There was a grandmotherly old woman waiting at the counter with pink-framed glasses, bouffant hair, and a friendly smile.

“Welcome to the Rosemont Motel, gentlemen. My name is Marla. How can I help you? Are you here for the festival?”

Dean and Cas each looked at the other with raised brows before Dean shook his head. “Uh, no. No, we’re just passing through.”

“Oh, what a shame!” Marla waved hand toward a poster beside the desk. “The Rose Festival is this weekend and the whole town will be out. We’re nearly booked up here.” Her gleeful smile was evidence enough that the little town didn’t often get visitors.

“Not completely booked, I hope,” Dean said, leaning forward with a charming smile.

Marla batted a hand toward him with a blush. “We do still have one room available.” She slid her ledger toward Dean to sign while he passed her a credit card. “I’m sure you two will be nice and cozy. Maybe you can even pass through the festival on your way out of town tomorrow.”

“I think that would be lovely,” Cas said as Dean accepted their key. Marla beamed as they bid her goodnight and left the lobby.

As expected, the room matched the rest of the place—plush pink carpet and striped wallpaper. However, what was not expected was the lone queen-sized four-post bed. Dean stared at it for a moment too long before Cas stepped up beside him.

“Well, Marla said we’d be nice and cozy.”

Dean felt his ears turning red.

“Shut up, Cas.”

He dropped his bag on the end of the bed, fished out some sweats and hurried into the bathroom to shower. Once behind the closed door, he leaned forward on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror.

This is what you wanted, you idiot. You wanted to stop for the night. You wanted to stretch this whole thing out... So, suck it up, dumbass. It’s all in your head.

He shook his head at his reflection and turned on the shower, not waiting for the water to warm up before stepping in.

When he came out of the bathroom, still toweling his hair, Cas was sitting on one side of the bed, leaning against the headboard with his legs crossed at the ankles and the television remote beside him. He’d changed into a t-shirt and a pair of soft flannel pants, and while that sight was enough for Dean to consider just staying awake all night, it was the television that distracted him.

“Are you—are you watching Dr. Sexy?” he asked, sitting on the opposite side of the bed, one foot still on the floor, the other knee up on the bed so he could face the old tube-style television that sat on an old painted dresser. “Wait, is this in—?”

“Spanish, yes,” Cas answered. “This television doesn’t get many channels, and this was the most interesting thing on.”

“I think that TV is older than you are, buddy,” Dean said, finally sliding back on the bed to lean against the headboard beside Cas. “Wish I knew what they were saying,” he said mostly to himself.

Cas leaned a bit toward the center of the bed. “Dr. Piccolo and Dr. Sexy are arguing over the ethics of Mrs. Beale’s experimental face transplant.”

“Yeah, that Mrs. Beale seemed pretty shady.” Dean shifted on the bed to get more comfortable. If he happened to have leaned a little toward Cas, well, it was just because he was listening intently. “Ooh, what’s up with Johnny Drake?”

By the time Cas had translated the remainder of the episode, the two were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the bed. Cas hugged a frilly pillow to his chest while Dean had tucked his feet beneath the floral comforter. Their laughter at Dr. White walking in on Dr. Sexy and Dr. Piccolo in the on-call room (again) died down, leaving them in an awkward silence when the credits finished rolling and the screen switched to an infomercial for some miracle fix-it product. Neither had moved and it felt like tension was radiating from the spot where their arms were pressed together.

They both reached for the remote at the same time, Cas reaching it first, and Dean’s traitorous hand paused for just a millisecond too long on top of Cas’s. So, while Cas turned off the television, Dean quickly ducked under the covers, turning on his side to hide the redness that was most certainly creeping over his face right now.

When the room was covered in darkness, Dean could feel Cas shifting behind him, sliding under the blankets and arranging his pillow. He thought back to the days when Cas was a full-powered angel, when he didn’t need to eat or sleep and spent his nights watching over the Winchesters—especially Dean. Sure, it was weird back then, but when he thought about it now it almost made him smile. Cas still had days when he could get by without food or rest, but Dean knew him well enough to see that a good meal and a good night’s rest made him feel better.

Dean could feel the warmth of Cas’s back facing his own, and while distracted by his drowsy thoughts, he’d inched ever so slightly closer to the center of the bed. Cas, apparently, had done the same thing because they were suddenly pressed back to back. Both tensed momentarily, but when neither moved to recreate the space between them, they slowly relaxed, letting their weight meet in the middle as they drifted off into sleep.

Dean slept more peacefully than he had in quite a long time. The sun was fully up and streaming through the gauzy curtains by the time he groaned into consciousness.

In the night, Dean had apparently turned onto his opposite side and his face was now pressed up against the top of Cas’s head, his arms wrapped tightly around broad shoulders. Cas was nestled close, his head tucked against Dean’s chest, his hand resting on Dean’s waist. From their position, it seemed Dean had likely been the one to pull Cas close and Cas had curled right in. Their bodies fit together so well and warm that before Dean was fully awake, he kissed the top of the head he was cradling.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were wide and full of panic, realizing what he’d just done. He wanted to run from the bed, but he was currently tangled up in angel limbs, which had snaked around his waist pulling him closer in response to that little kiss on his head.

Shit, shit, shit! There was nothing that Dean could do. He and Cas were both awake, wrapped up in one another’s arms. They simultaneously moved, each retreating to his own side of the bed.

“I—I’m gonna…” Dean pointed at the bathroom, quickly grabbed his toothbrush, and hurried into the bathroom to hide for the second time since they’d arrived at this damned dollhouse motel. He turned on the tap and considered drowning himself in the sink, but settled on splashing the cold water on his face before brushing his teeth. He still had the toothbrush in his mouth when he looked up to his reflection with a panicked realization.

Did I—Jesus, I fucking kissed him. I kissed the top of his head. What the FUCK.

When he couldn’t feasibly hide in the bathroom any longer, he ducked his head and returned to the room. Cas had already changed out of his flannel pants and was pulling on his shoes. He looked up at Dean and gave him a small unperturbed smile as though he hadn’t woken up with his face pressed against Dean’s chest not more than fifteen minutes ago.

“Should we get some breakfast?”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh at himself. What was he hiding from? He hadn’t woken up with some stranger… This was Cas, the angel that pulled him from Hell, the angel that watched over him as he slept, the angel that like peanut butter and honeybees. The angel that wrapped his arms around him tight when Dean kissed his sleepy head… the angel that maybe he was a little in love with.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “Breakfast. And, uh, maybe we can check out that Rose Festival before we head out.” He looked up tentatively, waiting for Castiel’s reaction.

Cas grinned. “I’d like that.”

@rauko-is-a-free-elf @petrichoravellichor @crack–attack @katekarnage7 @ladygotsoul @all-or-nothing-baby @moderatelypanickedbiromantic @dammitsammy @dizzypinwheel

FFXIV: Pearls of Wisdom

A/N: This opening sentence has lived in my head for over three years, and now I finally release it unto the world.

Don’t be drinking anything, friends, this is seventy-five percent Rereha POV, which means irreverence is now in full effect and the concept of “being serious” has been chucked directly out the window.

Please enjoy!

RATING: T/PG-13 Word Count: 5,335 Cross-posted to AO3

-------

Rereha threw open the doors to Aymeric’s office, shite-eating grin firmly plastered on her face as she skipped inside, and sang out, “Congratulations! It’s twins!”

Two things happened.

First, as soon as the doors opened, but before Rereha even opened her mouth, Lucia, she of finely honed Frumentarium instincts and years of friendship with a lalafell infamous across the realm for her Theatrics and Shenanigans, reached out and yanked the multitude of reports on the desk in front of Aymeric out of the way.

Second, Aymeric, who had been taking a sip of tea at the exact moment Rereha entered the office, choked and spat out said tea across his desk—and where all of the paperwork had once been not even a second before—in the most glorious spit take Rereha had ever engendered. A tiny part of her was saddened at the waste of perfectly good tea, but, wow, that had been spectacular. She gave herself a mental pat on the back and came to a stop in the middle of the office, grin widening to manic levels.

Lucia pounded Aymeric on the back between his shoulder blades as he coughed and sputtered, stopping only when the Lord Commander wheezed out, wide-eyed, voice high-pitched and halfway to a full-blown panic, “WHAT?!”

Rereha clasped her hands behind her back and rocked back on her heels. “You heard me,” she said, sing-song.

He wheezed again, wordlessly this time, and stared at her with huge blue eyes as all the color slowly drained from his face. He opened his mouth, but only a strangled croak emerged. The grip on his teacup slackened, and Lucia hurriedly whisked it out of his hands and set it aside as she narrowed her eyes at Rereha, one blonde brow slowly ticking upwards.

Really? That expression said.

…All right, perhaps she could have phrased it a little differently to the man who was the bastard son of the last archbishop. Oh, well. She had committed to it, no time to backtrack.

Especially since Synnove had finally arrived, having been forced to take the stairs when Rereha commandeered the elevator up to the Lord Commander’s Seat to beat her there.

Her friend pelted into the office at full tilt, wearing an even wider, more manic grin than Rereha herself was sporting, Galette determinedly hanging onto her left shoulder and Ivar dangling from her right. She was still dressed for the cozy, well-insulated confines of the Arcanists’ Guild offices and laboratories rather than winter, never mind the everwinter of Coerthas: cotton shirt in storm grey under an unbuttoned deep green waistcoat, black slops rolled up to the knees, strappy sandals, everything wrinkled to the seven hells and back because she had been living out of her office for a sennight (again). The bags under her gleaming green eyes were dark and huge, and the thick plait of hair down to her waist was nearly half undone and ghostly-hued from constantly running her chalk-covered hands through it.

Synnove was a godsdamned mess, but for all that her grin was dangerously manic, her overall expression was radiant, easily able to outshine the sun.

The Highlander swerved around Rereha to smack first into Lucia. The Garlean yelped in surprise as Synnove lifted her off her feet in a bear hug, no small feat considering Lucia was taller by a few ilms and also wearing full formal plate. (Galette headbutted Lucia sympathetically.) Synnove set her down again and gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek—Lucia blinked rapidly, too stunned to respond as she stumbled and recovered her balance—and then turned her attention to Aymeric.

She did a brief twirl on the ball of her right foot—the carbuncles made distressed noises at this: Mommy, please stop with the spinning­/Mama, nooooo not again—and came to a stop next to Aymeric, grinning down at him like a lunatic. He briefly glanced at her (flat) stomach, then up at her beaming face, mouth working soundlessly as he tried to regain his ability to speak. Before he could manage that, however, Synnove grasped his face in her hands and swooped down to kiss him. Aymeric flailed helplessly for a moment in shock, then gripped her elbows and went limp and—wow.

Lucia coughed and glanced away and up, finding a particular spot on the ceiling of great interest, a light blush on her cheeks, while both Galette and Ivar recoiled and loudly gagged. Rereha wolf-whistled and applauded, impressed but also surprised. Godsdamn, Synnove. That officially outdid every filthy kiss described in any of the trashy romance novels Rereha had ever read, and she had read a lot of trashy romance novels in her life.

(Also, if she was focusing on that, she wasn’t focusing on her sister-by-choice with said sister-by-choice’s tongue down her lover’s throat, ugh ew ew ew grosssssss.)

Synnove drew back, leaving Aymeric stunned and breathless and gaping like a fish at her as she did another, more energetic twirl. (Lucia ducked around Aymeric’s chair to the other side of the desk to avoid getting smacked by flying carbuncle tails, or potentially flying carbuncles as they struggled to hold on and whined in protest.) She raised her arms, shouting, “I’m a fucking GENIUS!”

“Oh, Fury’s spear,” Lucia said in exasperation, “which laws of reality did you break this time?”

“Not broken,” Synnove replied cheerfully, “just bent!”

Rereha meandered over to the desk and stood up on tiptoe to grasp the edge. With a small grunt of effort, she pulled herself up and clambered onto the desktop, momentarily sprawling on her back and ignoring Lucia’s angry hiss as she disturbed the piled-up paperwork. “Our darling Synnove,” said Rereha primly, lacing her fingers together across her stomach, “has had a breakthrough on her artificial aetheric gemstone infusion process.”

“I’m a fucking genius,” Synnove said again, sing-song. “But I did have a little help…”

---

Synnove dropped into her chair with a soft groan of relief, shaking off her boots and kicking them into the space beneath her desk. She had made it back to Mealvaan’s Gate just in time to assist with getting all the storm shutters closed before the nor’wester hit Limsa Lominsa, and the wind now howled as it pushed through the city, so strong it was raining sideways. The skywatchers were reporting the storm would last another day, possibly two, and if the temperature kept dropping, they might even see a proper snowfall on Vylbrand for the first time in ten years. The Admiral had ordered the city shut down earlier in the day in advance of the storm, the harbor closed, and Limsa Lominsa had been eerily still as her citizens battened down the figurative hatches and got under cover.

The Gate was one of the best places to weather a storm, so Synnove would be camping in her office and living out of the mess hall, the same as many of the other arcanists who had homes outside the city and hadn’t been able to safely leave before the nor’wester struck. Her office at the top of the northeast tower was well-insulated, the Guild larders were well-stocked, and she had a freshly laundered pile of pillows and blankets with which to turn her couch into a nest or pillow fort. And, most importantly: she had treats.

She grinned and dragged the pastry box sitting at the corner of her desk towards herself. The second box full of goodies from her favorite Ala Mhigan café was safely stashed in a locked coldbox, and Galette’s phase-shift functionality disabled, so that box should hopefully last the remainder of the storm. Meanwhile, the carbuncles were enjoying their individual spoils from this first box: Galette was face down in a huge bowl of rose water malabi; Tyr’s muzzle was rapidly being stained purple by his blueberry papanaşi; and Ivar had an entire tray of Grisheld Reeve’s cinnamon and dragon pepper baklava all to himself.

Synnove wiggled her fingers in delight and opened the box, carefully removing the four squares of amandina cake that were alllllll for her and setting them on a clean plate fetched from beneath a pile of paperwork. She rummaged up a fork from one of her desk drawers, and was almost about ready to settle in. Now she just needed reading material.

She reached out to another corner of her desk, hooking her fingers over the edge of a wooden box full of tomestones and pulling it over. The box was neatly divided into sections for different types and she tapped her finger against the box’s rim as she considered the selection. There were the old standbys, full of compiled data on a random assortment of topics ranging from mathematics to gemology, but… Hm, no, something new. Lucia had, for Starlight, gifted her a set of tomestones one of her contacts had, ah, liberated from the laboratory of some chief engineer of one of the Garlean legions, Synnove couldn’t remember which one. Surely there was something on one of those that would pique her interest.

Lucia’s gifts weren’t on the top tray in the box, however, and Synnove lifted it to check the bottom one. Not those, nor those, but—ahah! There they were. She fished out three, set them aside, switched the trays so the bottom one was now on top, and dug out her tablet with the tome reader port from under another stack of papers.

(Perhaps she should do her paperwork instead?

…Nah.)

She clicked one of the tomestones into the port on her tablet and let the translation program run that would turn Old Allagan into a horrifying hodgepodge of Eorzean, Garlean, and Hannish for her to muddle through without needing two separate dictionaries and three grammar primers. (The Echo was useful most of the time, but it was absolute shite at turning highly technical Allagan textbooks into only equally highly technical Eorzean. Better to just read the things in the three scientific languages she knew to which the translator could find an accurate match somewhere.) As the program ran, Synnove resettled herself in her chair to sit cross-legged, and cut off a bite from one of the amandina squares with her fork to pop into her mouth.

Synnove closed her eyes and hummed as she slowly chewed. Mmmm. Layers of rich chocolate buttercream sandwiched between chocolate sponge that had been gently soaked in a caramel-rum syrup, all covered in a layer of almost ganache-like chocolate fondant. Auntie’s version used almond buttercream, but the Reeves’ version was just as good.

As she savored a second bite, her tome reader chimed a cheery little ditty—duhna na na na na na na-nana!—that Rereha had somehow managed to program into it, signaling that the tomestone had been fully translated. Synnove swallowed her cake and picked up the reader, thumbing to the menu.

The Journal of Mathematical Physics, volumes 101-200, from the Meracydian Institute of Physics.

Synnove gasped in delight and hugged her tablet. “Oh, fuck yes. Lucia, you are my new favorite person.”

The next few hours passed by quickly: reading the articles in each journal, occasionally gloating at realizing she or one of her colleagues had figured out a matter that had puzzled the ancient Allagans or frowning thoughtfully at new concepts and taking notes; nibbling intermittently on her cakes, rather than eating immediately one after another, so they lasted longer; breaking from reading, spine cracking unpleasantly from sitting hunched over for so long, to first clean her carbuncles’ faces of sticky sweets, then to head down to the mess for dinner; and finally cozying up on her couch in a nest of pillows with her tablet to continue reading, Tyr cuddling against her right hip and Galette and Ivar burrowing into her left. The last amandina cake was balanced on a plate on the back of the couch next to her head and the lights all turned on, casting a warm glow throughout her office, the arched gable of the tower ceiling lost in shadow.

Synnove hummed thoughtfully as she skimmed through volumes 144 and 145 of the journal. As with all academic treatises, some scientists were better writers than others, and the past few volumes of the journal hadn’t been bad, just…not very engaging. She flicked back to the menu and selected the table of contents for volume 146.

No, no, no, emphatically no, n—wait, yes. Yes, Roksana Blackspark, she had written a few articles in this collection of journals that were entertaining, informative, and thought-provoking; at least half the notes she had scribbled out were because of her. Shame she wasn’t as prolific as some of her colleagues, but that always seemed to be the case with the genuinely talented ones. And this article seemed especially promising: mapping aetheric polarity for spell customization.

She had the sneaking suspicion that sharing this one with the rest of the Guild would lead to some truly spectacular explosions.

Snuggling down into the cuddle pile with a gleeful chortle, Synnove reached for her plate of amandina, setting it down in her lap. (Galette’s nose twitched in her sleep, but she was too cozy and too full to properly awaken to investigate the sugar less than a fulm away.) Cake easily at hand, she began reading, picking up her fork without looking and cutting off another bite to eat.

Synnove was halfway through her cake when her face and hands went slack, fork and tablet both nearly dropping, and her jaw falling open as she stared at the tablet screen.

…What.

While the astral-aspected elements fire and wind have proven to be remarkably stable in self-maintaining neutral polarity, levin frequently skews too far towards astral—or even umbral, in rare cases—to be reliable at high voltages beyond explosive thaumaturgical uses. A similar problem exists with water and ice, which frequently skews too far to umbral, whereas earth aether will achieve polar equilibrium on its own.

The following equations take this lack of natural equilibrium into account when stabilization is required…

What.

“What the fuck,” Synnove said softly as she read, feeling as if she had been clubbed over the head by a gigas’s club. The equations bore a passing resemblance to classical aetheromagnetic theorems on polarization density, except completely turned on its head.

There was no way the problem with her aetheric infusion project was that simple. Swiving aetheric polarization. No. Swiving. Way.

And yet…

It was one of the most basic principles of magic, not just arcanima: astral elements and umbral elements. It was such an accepted, unquestioned foundation that she had never even considered that the three elements most commonly used by arcanists for their carbuncles were not all the same primary polarity. Every element could manifest as either polarity, but Roksana Blackspark was correct, now that Synnove properly thought about it: wind, earth, and fire were much, much more likely to be found in a stable state. Even the Guild’s enormous aether batteries, all the way down in subbasement twelve, had been initially tricky to install until they found the right combination of overgrown elemental clusters, with most of the problems coming from the water, ice, and levin clusters.

Of course trying to infuse any sort of gem with those three elements specifically was going to fail, they were fucking overaspected to astral or umbral. The equations didn’t fucking work as they should because they were built to account for elements that naturally occurred in stable states, and so the infusions fizzled and the gemstones cracked and no carbuncles could manifest.

But.

But if she did account for instability, or, in fact, deliberately found crystals with which to infuse gems that were of opposite polarities so that the final infusion was stable…

A new thought made itself known, and Synnove stuffed the rest of her cake in her mouth, set the plate and fork aside, bookmarked her spot in the journal, and opened up the note taking program, yanking the stylus from the side of the case. As she chewed, she began scribbling in frantic shorthand. Perhaps in addition to ensuring stable aetheric polarity, she could also try infusion over time as well? Even when artificially infusing emeralds, topazes, and rubies, the stones still cracked every one time out of eight. Certainly, working with water, levin, and ice aether would benefit from a slower infusion speed, as it would allow her to keep a better eye on maintaining polar equilibrium, and if that issue was what was affecting the failures for wind, earth, and fire, then that would be two problems solved.

…Perhaps three, Synnove sucking in a deep breath and her heart pounding as she wrote. A proper balance of aetheric polarization combined with a slow enough infusion potentially meant that she could, theoretically, infuse any precious stone she desired, not just ones with a specific hardness and durability. Of course, the equations would need to be further adjusted to take into account the specific chemical properties of the specific gems and how they would need to interact with different elemental aether, but that, while difficult and tedious, was still doable.

Synnove began to vibrate with excitement and she let herself indulge in a wide, half-mad grin.

---

“Obviously I didn’t come up with the correct solutions immediately,” Synnove said, practically buzzing as she finished explaining, “but Roksana Blackspark’s equations proved an excellent starting point. And it WORKED!” She threw her arms up in the air again—Galette and Ivar groaned, once more nearly losing their grip—and danced in place, cackling.

Aymeric was slowly beginning to regain his color, though he was still a bit wide about the eyes and generally poleaxed in appearance. Lucia, not having had the shock of her life nor been snogged until her brain was a puddle, tilted her head thoughtfully, a smile slowly beginning to grow across her features. “And what,” she said, excitement coloring her voice, “did you use as a gemstone for proof of concept?”

“Gemstones,” said Synnove with unmistakable glee. She pulled up the left sleeve of her shirt and thrust her arm out towards Lucia, hand bent upwards. On her wrist, almost glowing against her bronze skin and the green aetheric ink of her tattoos, was the thin braided leather bracelet on which she kept the emerald, topaz, and ruby that were the foci from where Galette, Tyr, and Ivar manifested.

Two new additions hung from the well-worn braid: a pair of truly massive pearls, each perfectly spherical and equal in shape and size to one another, as big as the first phalange of Synnove’s thumb. One was black, with a gorgeous purple iridescence; the second was white with a lovely overtone of sky blue.

In showing off the pearls to Lucia, Synnove had inadvertently positioned her wrist almost directly in front of Aymeric’s face. He finally shook himself to full awareness, crossing his eyes to stare at the bracelet. He said, “Are those the pearls I gave you for Starlight?”

“Yes, they are!” Synnove chirped. “I hadn’t yet decided how I wanted to use them, and considering the oddity of their creation, I wondered if infusing them at the same time might produce interesting results.” She giggled in delight. “And it did!”

Rereha knew the pearls quite well: they had originally been in her mother’s collection before Shushuha sold them to Aymeric (at a friends and family discount, of course). They were properly twin pearls, found in the same giant clam at the estuary of the White Maiden where it emptied into the Strait of Merlthor at the Yafaem Saltmoor. They had a very odd aetheric signature, per Mama’s description (not quite water-aspected, not quite levin), and were unable to be separated more than six ilms before one or the other would…blink back to the side of its sibling. And the clam itself had been the only one still living in the bed: half of the clams in the bed, based on the decay reported from the divers who found the pearls, had been killed from ceruleum poisoning, runoff from the Battle of Silvertear Skies, and the other half had been warped beyond all recognition into the sickly orange crystal growths left by wild aether from the Calamity.

Mama hadn’t been able to sell the pair, no interested buyers in all the years she owned them. Ill luck pearls, supposedly. But Rereha had mentioned them off-handedly to Aymeric while he had been bouncing Starlight gift ideas for Synnove off her and Heron, and he had lit up at the description of them. Synnove, he reasoned, would be delighted by a pair of aetherically strange pearls, even if she couldn’t find an immediate use for them.

(He had been absolutely correct, too; Synnove had shoved the box containing the pearls under nearly everyone’s nose to show them off, squealing in excitement about how Aymeric had gotten them for her and let me tell you the story about them—)

“Twin carbuncles!” Synnove cheered. “I had to infuse them at the same time, so they each contain levin and water aether, but the black pearl absorbs levin more readily, and the white pearl more water.”

“So,” Aymeric said hesitantly, a hint of relief in his voice, “you aren’t pregnant, then?”

“What?” said Synnove, rearing back with a frown. “No! Why would—” She went from confused to unamused in a heartbeat and turned her head to level a poisonous glare on a certain lalafell. “REREHA.”

Ooooh, reverb. But not, I’m going to toss you from the top of the Mizzenmast and into the harbor, levels of reverb. More like, I’m not sharing any of Aunt Angharad’s treats with you.

Rereha shrugged and grinned at her, fairly confidently she wasn’t going to be grievously injured today and that if she was denied Ala Mhigan treats, she could just go to the source of them and make big, sad eyes until Angharad Greywolfe caved. “It’s me,” she said. “Since when have I ever passed up the opportunity to make the obvious joke?”

Synnove gave her a last, vicious look, before turning back to Aymeric with a smile. The elezen had his hand over his mouth, trying and failing to stifle his chuckle.

“Would you like to meet them?” Synnove asked.

“It would be my honor, my love,” Aymeric said fondly, Lucia nodding in agreement beside him.

The arcanist clapped in excitement, spinning on the ball of her foot (Galette and Ivar shrieked and scrambled to hold on), calling out, “Tyr!” and peering down—and stopped, frowning, at the lack of enormous topaz carbuncle by her side. She looked around quizzically. “Where’s Tyr?”

A muffled boof echoed down the hall, from the direction of the Congregation’s lift. Coming, Mama!

Synnove relaxed, bouncing on her toes, ignoring the upset whining of her other two carbuncles trying to stay on her shoulders. Rereha snickered and sat upright, settling herself to sit cross-legged on the edge of Aymeric’s desk.

A few moments later, Tyr trotted into the office, carrying a wicker basket in his mouth. Sorry, Mama, he warbled around the handle. He came right up to Synnove and sat down at her feet. I didn’t want to jostle the babies and had to wait for the lift.

“Aww, you’re such a good big brother,” Synnove cooed, leaning down to scratch behind his ears. Galette and Ivar rolled their eyes and muttered about mama’s boy while Tyr boofed happily, ignoring the two. While Synnove didn’t say anything, she did exaggeratedly shrug her shoulders, jostling her troublemakers; Galette and Ivar yelped, but subsided.

She took the basket from Tyr—who, free of his burden, gave a deep, brassy maow! of hello to Aymeric and Lucia—and set it down in front of Aymeric. “Ready to meet everyone, sweethearts?” she said, sing-song, leaning over the container. (Galette and Ivar used the opportunity to scramble fully onto her shoulders; Galette sat primly, carefully balanced, while Ivar flopped on his belly so he was draped over his perch.)

Two excited cheeps came from inside the basket, only slightly muffled by the wicker. Yeah!

Synnove removed the basket’s lid with a flourish.

A soft green blanket was immediately revealed, under which two forms wriggled. Two little noses poked from beneath the cloth, twitching as the carbuncles to which they were attached scented the air. Then, peeping in excitement, they burst out into the open, pulling themselves up to stand braced on the rim of the basket. HI!

Rereha had, of course, already seen them, but she couldn’t help clasping her hands together and turning into a lump of lalafell mush, even as Lucia gasped in delight and Aymeric visibly melted. The baby carbuncles—and she needed to come up with a cute moniker for that concept; carbunkit? Carbunclet?—were tiny, just big enough for each one to sit comfortably in Synnove’s hands when she cupped them together. They were round and squishy, like a cross between oversized marshmallows and Heavensturn mochi, their legs still stubby and paws itty-bitty, and had yet to grow into their ears and tails: the former were as long as their bodies, and the fluffy trios of the latter as big as the rest of their bodies.

And they weren’t just cute, they were pretty. One was a fathomless black, like the inky depths of the ocean, but as its fur caught the light, it iridesced with an amethyst overlay. The other was the pure, perfect white of midsummer clouds, with the winter sunlight streaming into the office drawing out flashes of blue. The only other spot of color on either was the traditional red triangle cap between their ears and above their huge black eyes.

The twins trilled another high-pitched greeting. HIIIIIIIII!

Synnove, beaming fit to burst, said, “Aymeric, Lucia, I’d like you to meet Amandina and Roksana.” She gently booped the black carbuncle first, then the white one, right between their ears. Amandina wiggled her ears, squinting her eyes closed happily, and Roksana tilted her head back to yip a quick hi mommy! before turning her attention back to the people in front of her and her sister, excitedly waving a paw.

“Roksana, I can understand, but Amandina?” Aymeric laughed, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, shush, you, there’s precedent,” Synnove snarked back and jerked her thumb at Galette, who puffed out her chest in response. “It’s not as if it’s a well-known Abalathian dessert, either, I can get away with another dessert-named carbuncle.”

Rereha leaned over to stage whisper, “And she would have named Roksana ‘Lucia,’ but in Gyr Abania, it’s bad luck to name someone after a person who’s still among the living.”

Synnove nodded, smiling, even as Lucia blushed with pleasure and said wonderingly, “They’re so small.”

“That’s intentional,” said Synnove, petting the carbunclets (Rereha liked that term best so far) again. They both emitted squeaky purrs, still learning how to make the sound. “The aether infusion needs to be very slow to prevent damage to their pearls, so they currently have just enough to manifest. I’ve put in a request for more water and levin crystals acquired from elemental sprites, but it will be a while before I have the requisite amounts to get them to full size, never mind be combat capable. So, for now: baby carbuncles!”

The twins cheered.

Rereha muttered under her breath, “Carefully programmed to be actual hypothetical carbuncle babies, not just carbuncles in miniature…”

Synnove reached out to attempt to smack her upside the head. Rereha, however, using the knowledge acquired from twenty plus years of friendship, rolled backwards off the desk, catching herself on the edge with both hands as Synnove’s arm whiffed through empty air, then pulled herself back up onto her perch with a smug grin. Aymeric coughed to disguise his laugh while all five carbuncles giggled. Synnove huffed and rolled her eyes, but a smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“And now for the rest of the introductions…” Synnove pointed to Lucia, whose expression had steadily become more and more besotted the longer she stared at the tiny carbuncles in their basket. (Reasonable: the babies were obscenely adorable.) “This,” Synnove said to the twins, “is Lucia! She gave me the tomestone that ultimately helped my breakthrough on aetheric infusion.”

Amandina and Roksana cheered again, tapping their paws excitedly on the edge of the basket. HI, AUNT LUCIA!

Lucia made the tiniest, girliest squeal Rereha had ever heard, not just from the woman in question, but ever period. “Oh, hello, sweethearts,” she cooed. She took off one of her gauntlets and held her bare hand out to them; they immediately headbutted her fingers, cheeping happily, and she smiled so hard her face must have hurt as she gently pet first Roksana, then Amandina. “Aren’t you just the most precious darlings.”

The twins preened as Synnove chuckled and gently stroked them between their ears. “And this,” she continued, pointing to the Lord Commander, the babies obediently swiveling their heads to follow, “is Aymeric! He’s the one who gave me your pearls.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Amandina, Miss Roksana,” Aymeric said, at his most charmingly formal as he smiled down at them.

The babies blinked up at the elezen. Tilted their heads back to look at Synnove. Looked back up at Aymeric. Back at their mama. Up at Aymeric. Looked at each other.

Rereha would swear up, down, and sideways that in the split-second they exchanged glances, those two suddenly wore expressions that could out-do Galette while channeling her Garuda-egi subprogramming at her most demonically mischievous. Galette herself peered down at the pair, perturbed, one ear cocked upright and the other sideways in a perfect ninety-degree angle, while Ivar narrowed his eyes suspiciously at them. Tyr burbled a questioning little maow.

The twins turned back to Aymeric, their faces all sweetness and light once more, and chirped, in chorus, HI, PAPA!

Lucia and Rereha, in unintentional unison, slapped their hands over their own mouths, staring first at the baby carbuncles, before slowing turning to look at Synnove and Aymeric. Synnove and Aymeric, meanwhile, both froze, their minds clearly screeching to a near-audible halt, smiles still locked in place but their eyes widening to almost impossible proportions in shock. Deep, fluorescent blushes crawled up both their faces; Aymeric’s ears practically glowed. Amandina and Roksana started bouncing up and down excitedly, shaking the basket, their ears wiggling and tails twitching, while their delighted yipping chant of hi papa hi papa hi papa hi papa echoed through the office and probably down the corridor.

Ivar made an absolutely disgusted noise, covering his ears with his paws in an attempt to drown out his baby sisters. Galette and Tyr, meanwhile, exchanged a very thoughtful look. Galette flicked an ear. Tyr nodded.

Then they, too, swiveled their heads to look at Aymeric, and proceeded to join the chanting with unrepentant glee: Hi, Papa!

Ivar groaned. No. No, I refuse. His siblings all ignored him, simply chanted louder.

Synnove and Aymeric were flushed so red it was beginning to appear painful. Aymeric made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he dragged his gaze upward to meet Synnove’s. Synnove opened her mouth to say something, jaw working furiously, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak.

Rereha and Lucia made the mistake of glancing at one another out of the corners of their eyes. As soon as their eyes met, they both broke, Lucia sputtering and snorting, bringing her other, still-gauntleted hand up to her face in an attempt to muffle the sound of her undignified laughter. Rereha, of course, had never had any dignity, and just threw back her head to ugly cackle like a hyena.

Finally, Aymeric managed words, strained as they were—but with the shock was mixed equal parts delighted laughter and joy: “You’re the one who breaks the news about this to your aunt.”

Synnove squeaked again.

Rereha cackled harder.

And the carbuncles—sans Ivar, still moaning in disgust—kept chanting, Hi, Papa!

You what would be hella? An angsty-ish fic with the ice prompt. Your work is so lovely and well-written, I cant wait to read what ever you next produce!

Thank you so much for that, I’m glad people are excited to read my stuff! Since you didn’t specify a pairing, I went with Sternclay. Angst ahoy (but with a happy ending), along with me playing fast and loose with arctic geography.

He’s one of the lucky ones. 

Joseph Stern, scientist aboard the HMS Erebus, is a fastidious man. He is also, unfortunately, prone to bouts of seasickness meaning his meals have been scant, even before the ships became locked in. 

But it also means he was not eating food tinned in cans laden with lead. And his experimental water system, with which he occupied himself on long days, meant he drank more filtered sea water and ice than he did from the stores tainted with the same blasted material. 

So when he and the remainder of the skeleton crew left the Erebus and her sister the Terror, his mind was much clearer than most. 

And that is why, when the bulk of them turned a direction that likely held only more ice, more death, carrying a writing desk while leading freshwater behind, he refused to follow, insisting their best hope of civilization laid the opposite way. 

They left him and his supplies, unwilling to listen to his case. And so he has walked, then trudged, then barely moved, across the ice.

When he hits water, cursed sea water, he contemplates stepping into it. But drowning would be worse than freezing, or so he’s heard. 

A head surfaces in a hole through the ice. A mans head. 

Stern blinks, confused. Then he laughs.

“Maybe I should take to the sea after all. You look well fed.”

The man frowns, “You look nearly dead.”

“I am.” He sits down, knees hugged to his chest for warmth. 

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry.” The man emerges from the ice, and in place of legs he has a spotted and strong tail, like that of the seals Stern used to watch from his cabin window. 

“Unless you control the weather, I don’t think you need to be.” In any other time, the sight of a legendary creature would send him into a frenzy of delight and curiosity. Now he simply stares. 

“Why are you here?”

“The Northwest Passage.”

“That’s, um, that’s a trade thing, right? Your kind wants to move the things you sell more easily across the waters.”

“You’re well read for a merman.”

“My home isn’t that isolated.” He shrugs.

Stern stares at the water, peeking through cracks in the ice, “So many dead. So many more will die, I’ve no doubt, and all for a quicker route for spices and gold.” He can’t even weep, his body won’t let him use the energy, but he shudders in distress. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay. “ The merman slides to him, cups his cheeks, strokes his beard, and his hands are warm, warm and real, and Stern presses against them, “I mean, it sounds fucking awful, but that, um, that doesn’t sound as comforting.”

“I don’t mind the comfort.” Stern rests his hands on the man’s chest, then his mind gets a moment of true clarity, “wait, your home. You said your home is not that isolated. Is it near?”

“Um, I can reach it in a few hours but” he points to his tail, “that’s the way I can. On foot it’ll take longer. And unless the humans I know have been really wrong about some stuff, I think if you try to swim with me you’ll die, like, right away.”

“I’ve walked lord knows how far. I can manage a little more, if you point the way.”

The merman looks torn, then takes Sterns hands, “I can do one better. I’ll be your guide. If you’re closed off from the water’s edge, look under the ice.”

He slides back the way he came, surfaces a few moments later to Sterns right. So Stern follows him, sometimes no more than shape to his right, other times a ghostly shadow swimming beneath and in front of him. When night falls and Stern manages a paltry fire and shelter with his supplies, Barclay, as the mer calls himself, promises to return at sunrise, and does so without fail for the next two days. 

As he trudges across the icy ground, the best moments are when his path allows Barclay to swim right beside him, head above water so they can converse. It’s worth the effort, the inhaling of cold air, to converse with another being. Better yet, Barclay is bright and friendly, curious about Stern’s research in a way none of his crewmates were. Barclay tells him stories of merfolk and sea monsters, even makes him laugh,  in return for Stern telling him about life in England and his research into undiscovered species. 

“They offered me the chance to study far off lands, discover creatures thought only to be legend. Silly thing to die for.”

“Doesn’t sound like you were the one who got the ships stuck. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to learn about the world.”

Stern’s rations have run out, and when he stumbles, Barclay doubles back, concerned. 

“I, I need, food, I’ll-”

“Wait right here.” Barclay disappears. Stern counts snowflakes, heartbeats, anything to distract from the pain in his belly. 

A fish hits the ice in front of him. Then it flops and wiggles across the slick surface, back into the water.

“Damn it.” He giggles, near hysterical. 

The fish lands again, head now gone. 

“Sorry, forgot humans aren’t great with live prey.” Barclay says sheepishly. 

Stern eats five more fish Barclay brings him, manages to get to his feet and continue on. 

Night falls, colder than the last few, and Barclay disappears with his usual promise to return.

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

“He’s not going to last the night, Barclay.”

Barclay turns, finds his friend Indrid in his human form at the door of his house on Amnesty Island. The seer gives him a sad smile. 

“No. No he can’t. I won’t let him.”

“Barclay-”

“Indrid” Barclay grabs his shoulders, “do you remember when you found Duck? How frightened he was, how he was certain you were death coming for him?”

“Yes.” Indrid says, pain flashing on his face. He’d found the human, left behind by his research expedition. Duck had volunteered to stay behind and freeze, in hopes of his team having enough rations to make the nearest town if they were a man short. Indrid found him, brought him back to Amnesty, cared for him. Fell in love with him and Duck, after a few weeks, returned the sentiment with gusto. 

“I can’t let that happen to Joseph. I can’t, Indrid, please, the last week, I, he’s unlike any guy I’ve ever met. I can’t let him suffer that way.”

Indrid’s face goes blank. Then he gives Barclay an unusually severe stare, “You have very little time, and you must follow my instructions to the letter.”

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

He’s going to die. It’s too cold, his body too weak. He is going to die alone, his family will never know what befell him, and he will never even get the chance to thank Barclay for his kindness, for making his last days bearable, at moments almost enjoyable. 

Lord have mercy on his soul. Let it be painless. 

All for nothing, for trade and money, is this end in the ice. 

Have mercy. 

He can’t see. His heart seems to slow. In the distance, something crunches on the snow. 

Mercy. 

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

“So this is the fella you took my boat and my dogsled for?”

“Yes, Mama, I’m sorry.”

The woman’s voice has a laugh in it, “You always did have a big heart. Guess it was only a matter of time before you brought some hard-luck human in.”

“He’s not just any human.” A warm hand brushes Stern’s hair, “I’ve never felt this way about a human before. A few other mers maybe, when I was younger.”

“Uh, Mama? Indrid says we got a ship comin in soon and we might wanna buy more’n normal.”

Why in the lord’s blessed name is hearing a southern accent?

He tries to ask this question, gets a groan out instead.

“He’s awake!” Barclays’ voice gets closer, and when he manages to open his eyes he finds familiar, deep brown ones looking at him.

“How...where?”

“Amnesty Island. My home.” He supports Stern’s head, helping him drink blessedly clean water.

“That’s...that’s not on any map I’ve seen.”

“And for damn good reason.” A woman with graying hair stands behind Barclay, “only those who need to know can find us, on account of the northern mers wanting some islands that were safe for them. Barclay decided you needed to know.”

“Thank you, Barclay. And thank you Mrs, um?”

“Cobb. But just call me Mama. Now, rest of you get, we need to haul supplies off that boat and Barclay needs some time with his fella.”

When the door of the small cabin closes, Stern reaches out, stroking Barclay’s coppery beard, “Why did you save me?”

“Because you’re a good guy. And, well, I care about you a lot. I like you even more. I couldn’t just leave you to die.”

This time, Stern weeps, with relief and exhaustion and the ghosts of his fear. Shivers even as tears dot his pillow. 

“Shhh, shhhhh it’s okay, I mean it this time. You still cold?”

Stern nods and Barclay tosses another blanket on top of him in bed. When the next wave of tears clear, the larger man is down to long underwear.

“May I?” He points to bed, and Stern weakly lifts the covers. Barclay climbs beneath them, wraps Stern in his arms, body flooding him with warmth and safety. 

“Been wanting to do this since that first day, but mer bodies aren’t great for keeping humans dry and warm. Kinda damp.”

“All-” Stern yawns, “all the same, I would like the chance to explore yours in more detail some day.”

“You got it.” Barclay hesitates, then kisses Stern’s temple, “but right now, time for you to rest. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning. Raw, decapitated fish aside, I’m a damn good cook. Any requests?”

“Eggs. Good lord I’ve missed eggs.”

“Think I can rustle something up. Heh, that tickles.” He chuckles when  Stern rubs his cheek against the exposed patch of dark-haired chest. 

“It won’t for long. I’ll be clean shaven as soon as I can hold a razor without shaking. You think I’m handsome now, just wait til you see me well fed and groomed.”

“Looking forward to it.” A kiss on the cheek, then snowflake-light on his lips, “ goodnight Joseph. You’re safe here, I’ll see to it. And I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.”

“Just like old times.” Stern says, only half-joking.

Another, tender kiss, “Yep, just like old times.”

Fallen Draco, Pt. 14

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 14): 3,216

Word Count (Total): 45,312

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), graphic injuries

***

26th April, 1998

It turns out Harry did have a plan. Multiple, actually. After that dinner with Hermione and Ron two days ago, Harry firecalled someone who he trusted to rescue Mother from the Ministry. Once Harry told me that the rescue team was on its way back to Grimmauld, I couldn’t stop pacing around the drawing room. But now, as Apparition cracks on the doorstep, the only thing I feel is dread. What if something's gone wrong? What if she’s terribly hurt? Harry glances over at me with reassuring green eyes, before rising from his dining room chair and answering the door.

“Right this way- over here!” Harry’s voice echoes down the corridor, bouncing off the walls. I clench my hands into fists trying to calm my nerves. Giving up immediately, I jump up from the leather sofa I was reading on, and walk to the mirror. Gazing into my reflection I sigh heavily. I pull my wand out of my pocket and wave it over my entire body. My wings slowly fade out of sight, as do the remainders of my cuts and bruises. Turning and leaving the dining room, I walk as slowly as I can towards Harry. Slowly ends up being slightly faster than normal, but it’s better than sprinting which is what I feel like doing.

“Lay her down here,” Harry is saying when I arrive at his side in the kitchen, next to a couch that’s been transfigured into a small bed.

“How is she?!” I ask Harry, my voice raised above normal pitch with worry.

Harry turns to look at me and places a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t be certain.”

I swallow hard and pull him into a hug. My head rests on his shoulder as his arms wind around my back.

“Thank you,” Harry nods to the wizard carrying Mother, a stranger to me. The man nods back and walks out into the corridor. Harry releases me from his arms and I finally turn and look at her.

Mother’s pale skin has turned black, blue, and purple with bruises. Red lines run down her skin in the form of cuts and blood trails. I feel the warmth drain from my face as I take in a particularly harsh graze down her left side where the skin looks like it’s been peeled away and stuck back on as an afterthought. Suppressing a shudder at her delicate figure being torn apart, I pivot around to face Harry.

“We need to help her.” There is no room for argument in my voice. This has to be done and I want to be a part of it.

“Let’s get started then,” comes Harry’s response. No questions asked. He knows how much this means to me.

Harry summons a stack of books from somewhere in the house, and I listen as they thud the whole way down to the basement—no doubt running into furniture and knocking things over. Harry catches them with a swift hand and puts them on the rounded end of the bed, where they wobble for a while before settling in. I scan the titles quickly before finding one about testing for internal damage. The book is a massive volume in a red cover with a white cross on the front. Harry scoffs at it for a second, the colours and symbol clearly meaning something to him. Opening the cover, I search for an index on the front page. I find a section called “Magical Scans for Internal Bleeding” and flick to the referenced page.

A wall of text and nothing else is there, and I swallow hard.

“Maybe we will need Hermione…” I whisper. “I don’t understand a word of this.”

Harry takes the book from my hand and runs his eyes over the paragraphs. “Neither,” he confesses. “But hold on… I can fix that.” I watch as Harry pulls his wand from his pocket again and waves it over the book. The words rearrange themselves and shorten, the entire book thinning out slightly by the time he’s done.

“There we go…” he murmurs. “Now we can read it.”

He hands me the book back and my jaw drops. Harry has essentially translated it out of scientific-medical terms into something we can easily understand. Overwhelmed by the thought, I press a firm kiss to his mouth before reading over the page. Harry wraps an arm around my waist as I read, kissing my forehead every so often.

“Okay… so we need to cast this spell and then write down the results so we can see how her body and magic are functioning,” I tell Harry. I hold up the book so he can read the spell’s incantation and see the required wand movement. “I probably won’t be able to cast it, so can you do it?”

“I can give it a go,” Harry says with a nod. He turns to a pillow not being used and transfigures it into a small mouse. I quickly freeze it in place so it can’t scuttle around and ruin the bed. Trust Harry not to think of something like that.

“Salutem taxationem,” he enchants, flicking his wand to form a cross in a circle. I watch with bated breath as numbers and words rise above the mouse, detailing everything from heart rate and blood pressure to magical signature—in this case a zero, because it’s a mouse.

I hug Harry tightly before reversing his transfiguration. “I guess I’ll scribe then,” I suggest. He nods and turns to face Mother.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks. “What if something goes wrong, it’s not like I’m a professional.”

“Then we’ll take her to St Mungo’s, I just don’t want to risk something else happening to her.” I can’t allow her to be taken again. Not when I have her now and have already failed her.

“Sure,” he replies. “Okay then,” he murmurs under his breath. I summon a muggle pen and a notebook like Hermione’s, getting ready to take down information.

“Salutem taxationem.” Harry casts the spell over Mother and we watch as the numbers and words rise up once again. I immediately start moving the pen over the paper, jotting down her heart rate, blood pressure, blood sugar, oxygen levels, magical core strength, and a whole range of other figures. The spell wavers a couple of times but never dies out, a testament to the strength of Harry’s power.

“Finished,” I say, the second I write the last word. Harry drops the spell, the results wavering and flickering out of existence.

“Let’s see them,” he replies with a raised eyebrow. I watch as different expressions cross his face. Harry seems to understand what he’s reading completely, and I feel kind of stupid that I don’t. I know what some of them mean, but that’s only a handful, and the rest I’ve never even heard of.

“Everything looks alright Draco,” Harry declares a couple of minutes later.

“Really?!” I ask, excitement bubbling in my chest.

“Yeah, it’s all external damage apparently.” Harry puts the notebook and pen down on the ground before stepping closer to me. “Now we only have to clean and close her wounds,” he states.

“Oh thank Merlin,” I breathe. I peck Harry’s lips again, finding it addictive now I’ve started. I still can’t believe he lets me.

Harry grins and kisses me a bit longer. “Come on, let's get her healed up.”

With reference to another book—this one titled “Cleansing and Closing Wounds”—Harry and I manage to remove the excess blood and any dirt or possible causes for infection. The waste is gathered into an empty potions vial and set aside for Hermione in case she wants to run any tests on it. Then, it’s my job to knit her cuts back together. My stomach squeezes as the pale skin shifts and reforms under my wand, memories of the same on my own body coming to the forefront of my mind. Harry’s hand on the small of my back keeps me concentrated, the only reason I manage to finish the task without being sick.

“Is that all of them?” I ask once I can’t see any more lines.

“It appears so,” Harry confirms behind me.

“Thank Mordred for that,” I say on a heavy breath. I never want to have to do that again.

“You don’t want to thank Mordred,” Harry chuckles. “He’s basically Voldemort but in the past!”

“Technicalities,” I wave the argument away. “It’s a saying, and I said it.”

Harry shakes his head, black fringe falling into his eyes. “Come on, let's get her to bed.”

“Which room?” I ask. “It can’t be the one she used to be in.”

“I know…” Harry chews his bottom lip for a second. “What if she’s in your room?”

“Would there be enough space for both of us?” I say with a tip of my head.

“Probably not,” Harry confesses. “But you could stay with me…”

“Harry Potter! Are you saying what I think you are?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he says, throwing his hands up to show his innocence. “But I’d like having you next to me.” Harry blushes an adorable dark red.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it…” I admit.

“Which part?”

I slap him. And then kiss him. “So we’re doing this?”

“I guess we are.” Harry kisses me again.

I pull away first, my breath gone and my heart pounding. “We have to move Mother.”

Harry sighs, presses his lips to the side of my mouth, and levitates my mother off the makeshift bed. He walks out of the kitchen with a backwards glance at me, and then makes his way through the corridor and up the stairs. I wait a second, not knowing what to do, before deciding to follow too. I catch up pretty quickly and walk just behind Mother’s floating feet. The stairs prove to be slightly difficult, given the sheer number of them, but Harry manages to get her up and onto the landing. I offer to help, and once Harry agrees I take over the charm. Harry all but collapses in on himself, exhausted from the amount of magic he’s used today. I levitate Mother’s body into my room—or… my old room—and carefully drop her onto the bed.

She looks ethereal there, her blonde hair a halo around her pale skin and eyelashes. Despite being really injured a couple of hours ago, she looks much better now. Her skin still has a certain tone to it, revealing recent trauma, but for the most part she looks to be healing nicely.

“She looks good Draco.” Harry’s sudden voice behind me makes me jump, unaware as I was with my surroundings. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Harry murmurs into my ear.

“You didn’t!” I protest. “And yes, she does.”

“I definitely did, and I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. You should have seen your face!”

I scowl at Harry from over my shoulder. He tickles me in retaliation. His fingers dig into my skin, rubbing against my ribs and waist.

“Fine, fine!” I give in. “I forfeit!”

“Do you admit it?”

“Guess so,” I huff.

“Oh come here,” Harry says with an eye roll. His lips land on mine and I allow myself to smile into him.

“We have things to do Harry,” I murmur as his mouth connects with my throat.

“Mmmm,” Harry hums against my skin. “Yeah, you.”

“No, Harry. Like preparing for a war.” That sobers him very quickly and steps away. “Sorry, that was uncalled for,” I apologise.

“No, no. You’re right,” he sighs. “I’ll call Hermione and catch her up with Narcissa, we’ll figure something out to keep her safe.”

I only nod in response. We turn and leave the room together. “I guess I’ll cook some dinner for us,” I offer. “Merlin knows you can’t cook.”

“Thank you Dray,” Harry smiles. I scoff at the nickname.

***

The water finally starts boiling, and I carefully pour it into the two mugs sitting on the kitchen counter. The teapot is heavy and very hot, and I rush to put it back down as quickly as possible. Scents of peppermint and chamomile fill the kitchen, and I tip my head closer to take it in. I push my hand through my hair, annoyed at it falling in my eyes. It’s growing very quickly, and is steadily reaching my shoulders. Sighing, I search through the cupboards to find a tea tray. As I bend down to open the bottom row of cabinets, a sharp pain cuts down my back.

Not again… I bring a hand up and around to touch my spine, and find it covered in blood. At this point I’m just sick of it. Gasping in pain, I stand back up and hunt for a towel or something to clean up the blood I know is about to come. I don’t see anything immediately, and give up when I feel my wings twitch where they’re connected to back. A groan pushes past my lips and pain shoots down my back again. I twist and bring my hand back to my skin, finding it warm and wet. A drip rolls downwards, tracing down my skin. I feel around for the bones I know are jutting out of my back and grip them hard. They feel solid and normal in my hand, and I travel up to where they split into branches. The feathers are soft but droopy, and as I’m touching them they curl in towards the bone.

A scream is ripped from me as they start to fall out; memories flashing before my eyes of the days spent in the Manor, and the pain I experienced, merging with the current pain underneath my skin. I force my hand away from the feathers and back down my bone. It’s twitching, shuddering inside my skin.

“Draco!” Harry shouts, running into the kitchen. “What’s happening?”

Relief fills me when I meet emerald eyes. Harry will help me. He always does. His question goes unanswered, but he catches on once his eyes roam over me. Blood is dripping down my back and arm, red lines a stark contrast against my skin. His eyes bulge, he swallows hard, and then he’s rushing towards me.

“They’re going back in Draco,” Harry explains as he looks over me. “Your wings are withdrawing into your back.”

“Ughhh,” I groan as I feel them shift slightly. Now that he’s said it, I can feel them moving beneath my skin. It’s going to be a slow process this time. Bone grates against bone and I shudder at the sound and feeling. It’s like being exposed to the cold, and it sets my teeth chattering in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. A rush of warmth follows, and I’m repulsed to discover it’s a wave of fresh blood. My head spins, the room going blurry and spotty with purple dots.

“Nu- numb me,” I gasp out to Harry as the pain rapidly increases.

I hear Harry patting himself down, hunting for his wand within his clothes. When he finds it, he recants a long, intricate spell. Must’ve gotten it from the books.

A cool relief washes over my body, and the pain dulls down to a bearable level. I can still feel every push into my skin, every time something catches or grates, but the pain isn’t there.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out in a whisper shout. I shudder again, my body twitching, as the bone sinks in further. “Where is it up to?” I need to know how much longer. I need to prepare myself mentally for this.

“Just where it splits into the branches,” Harry replies. His voice is unsure and worried.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“I’m not totally sure…” he says. “It just- the feathers are curling in and falling off. Has that happened before?”

“I don’t think so…” I murmur. “But my memory isn’t working too great right now.”

“Oh Draco, I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” Harry walks around to face me, his hand on my shoulder and his eyes sympathetic. He rests his forehead against mine, his tan skin filling my vision and making me dizzy for a totally different reason.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say as the first branch shifts under. One of the sharp bones catches on my skin, and I feel it tear. I gesture to Harry, who goes back around and carefully unhooks it.

“There’s no way I wouldn’t be here,” Harry replies.

The moon is high as time passes while we stand in the kitchen, the charmed windows reflecting the sky above ground. Eventually, the entire bone structure recedes into my back, and feathers litter the tiles. Harry collects them all with wandless magic, conjuring a jar and placing them gently inside. The numbing spell starts to wear off and I can begin to feel Harry’s hands wandering over my skin gently. We stand pressed up against each other for a few minutes, wrapped up in the comfort and warmth. I feel safe and at home in Harry’s arms. But something is off.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t they regrown yet?”

Harry sighs, rubbing his hand over my arm. “I’m not sure.”

I feel tears burn at my eyes. I’ve gotten so used to having wings these past few months, and now it feels weird to not have the weight pressed into my back. Searing pain shoots down the entire length of my spine again, and I almost laugh at the timing. It feels different than normal though, the pain is more… distant. It feels far away, like it’s not happening on the surface of my skin, but rather to a different person entirely. The very-most tip of my wing prods against the inside of my skin, and then it breaks through. It doesn’t stop. The bones keep rising out of my back with no intention of slowing down. The pain still doesn’t register, even as the skeleton becomes fully visible.

“Merlin Draco!” Harry shouts as he realises what’s happening. He whips around to face my back, gasping with the sight he sees. “They’re fully regrown! Draco, they’re fully regrown!”

“Let me see!” I call out, excitement filling me to the point I can’t control my voice.

Harry conjures a large mirror and holds it up to my face. Sure enough, the webs of bones are back in place.

“Feathers?” I breathe. I raise my hand to touch them, but quickly withdraw when I realise just how soaked through with blood they are.

“Let me clean them,” Harry offers with a kiss to my cheek. “Tergeo!”

I watch as the blood is siphoned off my wings, and my jaw drops.

“Harry. Harry are you seeing this?! Please tell me I’m not imagining it!” I gush.

Harry lifts a reverent hand and strokes it over the feathers, eliciting a shiver from me. “Definitely not imagined…” he murmurs. “Dray, they’re white. Actually white,” Harry laughs with amazement and joy.

I twist to face him, sharp pain reminding me that my back has just been split open. I wince, my face screwing up. But none of that’s relevant, because my feathers are white, and I’m fully restored.

***

A/N: Another chapter out on time! I hope everyone is staying safe and that you’re looking out for yourself. Stay home! and spend all day reading fic because why not? Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

@draconianhorntail @p3trovass @cowboy-simp @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @lafilleetlechatnoir @rebelwolf91017 @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @pizzabitch @champagnemonarch

Tell Me A Lie (NH) Ch 4

Word Count: 2,153

Warnings: swearing, anxiety

Six hours seemed to go by in a blink of an eye, and I felt like I was going to throw up as the plane came to a stop at the terminal and I had to get off. 

I hauled my stuff with me and exited the plane, going through the terminal. I took more deep breaths, trying to control my nerves.  

I shouldn’t have been shocked to see as many people swarming around as I did, and I saw my vision blur a bit as my anxiety kicked in. So, on top of the nausea, I felt great. 

I was told to stay close to the gate, Niall and security would come get me. Hopefully it'll be soon. I felt like people were staring at me just standing there; probably had the look of being lost, which wasn’t necessarily far from the truth. I decided to take out my airpods and block out all the noises with music. The flow of it guided my heart rate to slow back to normal and I let out another heavy breath.  

It’d be okay. Everything would be great. 

There was a tap on my shoulder so I took out one of the pods, curious, and then someone whispered, “Lauren.” 

My scream caught in my throat as I turned around in a jump. My reaction after turning around was to hit him in the arm. “Niall, not funny!”

He laughed, his eyes dancing. “I thought it was.”

Both of us looked at each other, smiling, and I sighed. “It’s great to finally see you in person again.”

“You too, Kelly.” He opened his arms for a hug and I accepted it. I couldn’t help myself from snuggling my face in his neck. He was just so soft and strong at the same time; humbled and still obviously so Irish. 

“You’re not gonna cry are you?” Niall asked. 

I scoffed with a small laugh, “No.”

He pulled back and it wasn’t hard to miss the small eye roll. “Come on.” He picked up my duffel from the floor. “I’m parked in one of the closer lots. It’s still gonna be crazy gettin’ out of er’.” 

I couldn’t stop the look I gave him. 

“What?” He laughed.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, laughing a little. “I didn’t expect you to drive us.”

He furrowed his brows now, and slightly scoffed, “Why not?” 

I shrugged, then bit my lip. “You don’t seem like the best driver.” 

“I’m loads good!” 

When my eyes landed on the vehicle he started going towards, I rolled my eyes once again. Of course it was his black Range Rover. But the windows were tinted, so I assumed it was the safest option. 

When I was a few steps from reaching the door, there was a flash and I couldn’t stop myself flinching and stepping back to catch my balance. Now, voices rushed.

“Lauren Kelly, right?”

“How’s it to be dating Niall Horan?” 

“Where are you two at in your relationship?” 

“Any wedding bells yet?” 

“Have any major fights?”

The flashes continued and a tight wave flowed through my body as they closed in on me. I was confused how they managed to find us at this parking lot. It was a random spot hidden in the back. It was so under the radar. 

A hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me forward, and I was pushed into the front passenger seat. I couldn’t rip my eye sight away from the security ushering the four paps and journalists away. After they’d done that, they nodded in our direction and Niall waved to them. 

Once we were gone, Niall gave me an apologetic look. “I didn’t think they’d track us down here. But that’s what the security is for.”

I only nodded and folded my shaky hands together. I licked at my tingling lips. 

Niall reached over to take one of my hands and kissed it. “You handled that so well, Lauren.”

To be honest, my mind was still fogged. That was more intense than I thought it would be. Oh my God. 

I shook my head and cleared my throat. “I did not… I didn’t expect paps to be that intense. I’m fine.”

“I can’t promise that won’t happen again, but we’ll have security, and more than likely they’re gonna be the ones hired by Modest.”

“Perfect,” I retorted.

Today was meant to be a buffer day where he and I could hangout at his house. He had some studio work to do. I knew that my adhd and anxiety made things difficult, but that’s what the medications were for and I had my exercises. 

Tomorrow would be our day out in public at Melrose, which I’d only been there once so it would be cool to go with Niall. The paps that Modest hired were supposed to snap us randomly over there.

We waited for this guard to open these massive gates that went into a development in Beverly Hills. This was not shocking to me, yet I felt out of place as Niall pulled through them. The buildings were definitely mansions and one of them was his. Holy shit. 

“Will there be security at the house?” I asked, and that was for sure the dumbest question I’ve asked thus far. 

“Oh, no, there's security at the gate. It’s a private community.” 

I snorted. “Any of your neighbors famous?” 

He laughed now. “All of them.” 

“You fuckin posh prick,” I scoffed with a laugh.

The Range Rover came to a stop and I gasped. His house was absolutely stunning. A mixture of California and Victorian; white bricks, orange roofing, two pillars framed the front entrance, and a two door garage accented on the side. There was a lot more greenery than I anticipated as well; I wasn’t shocked by the palm trees he had out front. 

“It’s really gorgeous, Niall,” I breathed. 

He ran a hand through his tips a couple times, a laugh trailing after. “Wait until you see the inside. Less impressive.” 

I rolled my eyes and didn’t say anything else as I stepped onto the concrete of the driveway. There was no way that it wasn’t just as nice inside. I pieced together that this wasn’t the home he spent the most time at when we stepped into the entrance; he probably did prefer his London home. The simple white walls and white marbled floor accented well with the greys, blues, and gold decor and furniture. I smiled at the framed golf photos and large canvas of an Ireland flag. 

Niall cleared his throat as he rocked back and forth on his feet. “Uhm, as you can see the living room is here, bedrooms are upstairs… Feel free to pick whichever you’d like. The studio is in the basement which is where I’ll be for the remainder of today. Need anything else right now?”

I shot him a warm smile. “Thanks, Ni. I’m good for now.”

He leaned in to leave a kiss on my cheek. “Get comfy. I’ll see you later, Lauren.” 

“Will do.” I laughed under my breath. 

He disappeared down the second spiral staircase. I was back to being lost. I willed myself to go adventuring upstairs. There was an office with a sleek, glass desk that looked like it was never used; it was spotless clean though. The guest bedrooms all had their own attached bathrooms and that was where the extraness came from, otherwise it didn’t actually seem that large. Not like I’d imagined; Niall has always been a simple man. 

The guest room closest to Niall’s room practically called my name so I plopped my duffel and backpack on the floor beside the bed. I sat down on the end and fell backward onto the soft cotton. My eyes found themselves having a hard time staying open, so I closed them for a bit.

Just a little bit… 

***

I lightly groaned as I involuntarily stretched. My hand rubbed one eye as I sat up. Part of my hair had stuck to my cheek so I wiped it away behind my ear. It was clearly much later and I cursed under my breath. Despite the guilt of wasting time I could’ve used doing anything else, I did feel like a whole new person. 

It was a nice nap I had to admit. 

I grabbed the binder for Stone Cold, my pouch of pens and sticky notes, and airpods before I padded my way to the first floor. I’m sure there was a nook I could use to do some editing before we ate dinner, whenever that was. There was no way I would push Niall on a time.

Speaking of, there was a faint strumming that came from the basement. A flutter appeared in my chest hearing his sweet voice following it. This was an invasion of his privacy, even if I couldn’t make out the words. It wasn’t morally right to stand around. 

The search for a spot to settle myself was back on. I finally found a small inset seating space under a window in the kitchen area; it was a beautiful navy velvet with a couple grey pillows. It was so comfortable, more than I could ever have predicted. It was my time to get invested in my own art and let the time slip by. 

***

There was a muffled voice that didn’t match the music I was playing. As much as I wanted to keep going, I marked the paragraph I just finished and looked up. Niall’s tired, yet cheery, features filled my vision and I couldn’t stop the smile. I took out one of the airpods, which automatically paused the song, and cleared my throat. 

“How’s the writing?” 

He shrugged. “Not bad I think. Have you been here the whole time?” 

“No.” I shook my head. “I actually fell asleep for a couple hours unintentionally.” 

“The best kind of naps.” He laughed.

I bit my lip. “Yeah, and then I came here to edit. It’s a nice nook.” 

He bit into the red apple he took from the bowl placed in the middle of the island and cheesed. “That it is… What should we do for dinner? We could go out, or get something to eat here.” 

I thought about it. If we went out, I probably should change into a more put together outfit that didn’t reek of travel. That didn’t seem the slightest bit appealing to be honest. We had the rest of the trip to eat out. 

“Do you mind eating in tonight?” 

“Of course not. There’s this amazing Thai place not too far that delivers if you’ve got no objections.” 

I smirked and shook my head as I stood. “Nope, Thai sounds wonderful.” 

Within twenty minutes, the two of us were sprawled on the black suede L Couch in the living room with our own entrees and pot stickers. I used the chopsticks to bring some noodles and a piece of broccoli to my mouth. We had the first season of Stranger Things going and I tensed at the sight of Eleven using all her strength on the monster. I hadn’t realized I held my breath until that thing and she were gone.

I ate more of my Thai now, switching my focus to Niall who’d wiggled his way to lay his upper half across my lap at the beginning of the episode. I didn’t mind his weight though, it was more comforting than anything; even if the pressure on my pelvic area did emulate the sensation of needing to pee. 

“That part gets me every time,” I stated. “She’s so badass.” 

“I agree,” he remarked and reached over for another pot sticker from the coffee table. 

“Get me one?” 

He raised his brows momentarily before breaking out a smile and reached again, then handed it to me.

I cheesed. “You’re the best. This was really good. I might be addicted.” 

“Don’t even get me started,” he scoffed with a laugh. “I get it every time I’m in LA.” 

“Was the choice to eat out or in going to lead to this place no matter what?” I narrowed my eyes playfully. 

“Maybe,” he mumbled, crossing his arms, and Niall made himself more comfortable; his eyes closed even.

I shook my head. “Such a dork.” 

A small smile spread on his lips. He didn’t say anything else, and it didn’t take me long for me to catch on that he’d fallen asleep by the slow rise of his chest and soft snores. Netflix rolled into the second season of Stranger Things. I laid my head back, and found my fingers running through the tips of his hair. 

Part of me realized that this should be more weird than it is, and the other part of me found calm happiness in it. It was okay for friends to do this sort of thing; platonic snuggles were normal. 

Eventually, I drifted off too. 

Next: Ch 5 

[Masterlist]

Knight in Shining Armor - Part Three

Read part one here!

Read part two here!

Summary: You and Michael begin to plan your wedding but encounter some trouble. Also, warning, this is a little smutty! :)

From the writer: Hey guys! This is my favorite chapter of this fic I’ve posted so far. Please excuse any typos, I proofread it a few times but there’s so much to proofread as this chapter is fairly long; I think I got carried away. Huge shoutout to @jocelynscloset​ for proofreading this for me as well! All likes and reblogs are appreciated + if you liked this fic, feel free to check out my masterlist! :) Update— here’s part one, here’s part two, and here’s part four + here’s my masterlist with more fics!

Word count: 2,329

Darkness looming out your window with a faint orange glow in the background. Grey clouds gather in the sky and high branches on dark trees release dead leaves, blowing across your viewpoint in the dry, warm wind. Hot, but not humid, Stagnant, but not predictable. Every day similar, but not precisely the same as the last. Rising up from your soft pillowcase, silky sheets run past your fingers as you lift them from your body and stand up. Today was the day to start planning the wedding, and you were fairly excited to begin this journey with Michael. More importantly, you were excited for your new life ahead with your soon-to-be husband. 

Quickly dressing in a simple black gown and cast-iron tiara, you make your way to the dining room for breakfast. Always punctual, Michael is sitting at the opposite end of the table. Previously focused on what he was reading, his head perks up and his curls oscillate near his face when he hears the door open. Standing to greet you, he gives you a small hug and kiss on the cheek, then makes his way back to his side of the table. In the middle of the elongated table, there’s fresh fruit, fluffy biscuits, oatmeal, sausage, eggs, yogurt, many different kinds of muffins, and a few more indiscernible items— all at your disposal. You begin to think this enormous spread is excessive for every meal, but who else would eat this food from Hell anyways? Certainly not the already-dead (or undead?) residents. 

“I was just looking over the invitations for our wedding, Dear,” he says, looking up from the cards in his hands. Invitations, you think. This must mean this is going to be a long, drawn-out process. You can’t complain about him wanting to get this right, but at the same time, you are growing more impatient. You were plucked from the relative safety of your tower, dragged to Hell, and now stuck here to wait for a wedding. But, you must remind yourself to respect his wishes and go with the flow of his elaborate wedding plan— it would be the least you could do to thank him for rescuing you. 

“I am certain they look wonderful,” you affirm, sitting down and pouring a cup of coffee. You reach for a blueberry muffin and set it down on your place.

“More importantly, you should choose a dress— we can decorate to revolve around your choice,” he says, looking up and giving a bright, excited smile. You give a small smile back before your attention trails back to your muffin as you slowly peel the paper back, letting it fan out little ridge after little ridge.

“Of course, I’ll choose a dress today,” you say, still looking down at your muffin, now picking at the loose crumbs. 

Realistically, Michael says they could pull off the wedding Saturday or Sunday. Having lost track of time, you learn it is now Monday, looking at the calendar Michael sends to your side of the table via telekinesis. For the remainder of breakfast, you sit and make small talk with Michael. Further planning of the wedding cannot be done without a central theme or color to follow. For the Antichrist, Michael seems pretty sociable and knows how to hold a conversation well. He knows of many things Above that would keep you entertained— sports, politics, and the latest fashion trends in the major cities. Perhaps a dress modeled with a wide skirt and big sleeves, such as what’s popular in London, he insists. Or, taking inspiration from the wide skirts, elaborate lace details, and parasols from Charleston, similar to the styles you grew up with, he says. Perhaps Hell could put together a lacrosse team, as you’ve expressed your enjoyment of the sport to Michael before. Many great athletes are sitting down here doing absolutely nothing. There would be no task too great for Michael to attempt in effort to make you happy. You try to convince him that any dress in your closet would do, yet you have had a traditional, white dress in mind. Asking about further details, you said you would let him handle the specifics and other decorations, as he clearly has good taste— this castle is beautifully decorated and perfect for a wedding, you assure him. The castle would be perfect even with no special preparations, you guarantee. 

Eventually, you excuse yourself from the table so you could go back to your room. As you open the door, an almost sickeningly-sweet smell surrounds you and wafts itself near your face with every step you take— similar to how when too much vanilla extract is added to baked goods, the taste becomes bitter rather than sweet. As you search for the offending foodstuffs, a note is laid flat on your bedside table along with five slices of cake, each a different flavor with a different icing. The note is from Michael reading that you should try these, then let him know which you would like at the wedding reception. Simple enough, you think. Going in line from chocolate, to vanilla, to lemon, to carrot, to red velvet. All are delicious, but red velvet has always been your favorite flavor. You must have experienced a small sugar high from tasting those cakes, because now you’re bone-tired and ready for a nap, despite it being only a little past eleven. Seeing as the details for the wedding have been mostly sorted out at this point, you feel no remorse sinking back into your silky sheets and velvety pillows. 

Waking from your nap, you check the clock to see how much time has passed— it’s only noon, almost time for lunch. Stepping off your bed, you walk towards your mirror and reach for your hairbrush. To your surprise, your once (y/e/c) eyes are now a pale silvery-white color. Perhaps Hell is taking more of a toll on you than you thought. Running the brush through your soft hair, you begin to let your thoughts wander about Michael. How could he deny you in your advances to be intimate? After the wedding, it would happen eventually anyway, so what does it matter? You’re on edge, pent-up, and in need of gratification that only another could provide. Sitting around and playing with yourself has become a daily ritual at this point, but more importantly, it’s boring. There’s only one option left for you to have your much-needed alone time with Michael— seduction. 

One element of seduction is having a somewhat-unattainable nature. When leaving for breakfast, Michael asked if you would join him for lunch. You said yes, but decided to ditch last-minute. Why? Because that makes the next time you see him even more precious. You’re hard to get. Another key to seduction is looking appealing for the one you’re trying to seduce. You begin to brush your hair up and pin it in a loose bun then pull a few of the shorter, loose pieces out to frame your face. Scouring the seemingly endless supply of makeup on your vanity, you find a faint red lip gloss. Having big, glossy lips appealing for most men, you think. Sure— they’re kissable, but they’re also useful for other bedroom activities as well. Picking up a small mascara wand, you open the compact that holds the dark powder and add a drop of water. Mascara helps make your lashes darker and eyes appear more open and awake. Some more face powder is applied to even out your skin, then blush is used to make you seem flustered and ready for Michael.

Time passes slowly when you’re anticipating something, but you manage the rest of the day by reading as well as relieving yourself of your pent-up desire. Many times, you thought of Michael as your hands traveled down to your warm heat. Fingers dipping in and curling up inside, hitting your innermost walls. Your muscles would clench around your fingers, wetness turning into sopping mess. As you became more relaxed each time, you were able to fit two, then three inside. A fourth was attempted and achieved, but the pinky doesn’t do much for you, being so small— you’re able to go harder with only three anyways.

Eventually, it was five o’clock. Michael normally returns to his room between five-fifteen and five-thirty to begin getting ready for dinner at six. Your hands make their way to your back, and you untie the corset you were wearing. Next, the slip you were wearing under your dress goes. In your armoire, you find a red, silky robe with a matching tie. This will do, and it’ll be very easy to take off. 

Peeking out the door to the hallway, you scan the area to make sure nobody is out there. It would be embarrassing to be caught in only a robe by anybody other than Michael. After realizing the coast is clear, you run towards his bedroom and open his door. Quickly shutting it behind you, you walk towards the bed and let your robe drop to the floor. Climbing on his bed, his sheets feel just as soft as yours. A slippery sensation occurs when your freshly-shaved legs glide across the bedding as you spread your legs. Your hand travels down once again and begins rubbing circles on your clit. As your wetness grows, two fingers circle around your entrance until they can be submerged. Small moans escape your mouth when you push your fingers up, hitting a sensitive spot inside. 

Clunk! you hear as the heavy door is pushed. A slightly louder moan ensues, realizing that it is likely Michael at the door. Immediately after the door opens, a loud boom! ensues as Michael quickly closes the door. Slowly, a creaking noise reveals the door just slightly ajar, and you can make out Michael’s voice clearly when he speaks. 

“Darling, I believe you’re in the wrong room.”

Your feet hit the cold floor as you stand up from the bed and walk towards the door. Loose tendrils of hair bounce next to your face, glossy lips are reflective in the candlelight, breasts bounce slightly as you walk. You open the door, grab Michael by the tie and yank him towards you, then shut the door behind the two of you. He would have resisted, but he is so surprised that you would have the audacity to do something like this, it’s stunning. 

“I’m right where I need to be,” you say, taking your hand and resting it on the side of his face before leaning in for a kiss. He abruptly pulls away before you get the chance to make contact. Michael turns to the coat rack in his room and throws you the first thing he could grab. Begrudgingly, you wrap yourself in his long coat then step towards him again. 

Once he turns to face you again, you step closer and hook a leg around his waist, pressing into him as close as possible. A moan slips past your lips as your cunt makes contact with his pants, but your pleasure is cut short as he gently shoves you away and steps back. He is now visibly upset, looking down towards the floor, sighing, then biting his lower lip. 

“I cannot describe how this makes me feel, even after I explained why I was doing what I’m doing,” he says, stepping closer again— Michael is attempting to seem stout and serious. You look up to meet his captivating blue gaze. His lips are pressed together in a firm line. As you make eye contact for a few more seconds, Michael’s brows begin to furrow in confusion rather than anger.

“Step into the light, Dear,” he says, moving towards a table with a tall candlestick. Your eyes are pale, demonic, and possessed. This is not you. 

“Also, the red velvet wins,” you say nonchalantly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?” he questions with an even more confused tone than look on his face.

“That cake you left me? To try for the wedding?” you say, a slightly annoyed tone in your voice. 

This is a big ‘aha’ moment for Michael. The imaginary lightbulb has now been lit above his head. 

“Go to your room, please. Do not eat any more of that cake. I will be there soon.” 

Michael then goes to the foot of your bed and collects your robe for you, turns his back as you dress, and sends you off out to the hallway— after checking if anybody else was there, of course. Once you’ve left, Michael looks for his knife with the silver hilt and rubies on the end as well as on the sheath. It’s time for a nice, long father-and-son conversation. 

“Ave Satanas,” Michael says softy, allowing his blade to pierce the skin on his wrist as he drags it up the length of his arm. He repeats this with his other arm, and blood begins to fall from his body to the floor, joining the bloody pentagram he is kneeling above. He closes his eyes focuses on summoning his father, in need of an explanation and guidance as to what is happening. 

“Son,” a raspy, ominous voice says from nowhere, the voice just as prominent in every corner of the room— coming from an all-encompassing, all-powerful force. 

“Father, please, what have you done to my bride? How can I fix it?” Michael pleads, voice breaking mid-question. 

“You must give yourself a chance at producing an heir. Give her what she desires from you and she will return to her original state.” 

Satan’s words lingered in Michael’s head; this is a sad predicament to be in. An emotionless, sex-hungry woman fiending after a well-protected integrity. Determined to keep his original promises to himself, Michael knows what he must do. Standing to clean the blood from his arms and body, he checks the time to see if the officiant has gone to bed yet.

///

Tag list: @langdonsoceaneyes​​ @ms-mead​​ @daydreamingofcody​​ @psychobitchtess​​ @swampwitchh13​​ @ahstmblrupdates​​ @forgivemelucifer​​ @wroteclassicaly​