#i hope we make another golden record to send out to space that is just a fucking rickroll
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I found the fucking Rick roll mode on my fucking miyoo mini. what the ACTUAL fuck
#miyoo mini plus#video games#gaming#i hope we make another golden record to send out to space that is just a fucking rickroll#me exploring my new gaming console: ☺️// rick astley:
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Pocket Knife Prince
Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader
Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?
Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke
Word Count: 4.2k
A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3
You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.
“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.
“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”
“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”
Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up.
Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.
You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”
A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.
“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”
You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”
You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.”
Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”
A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”
You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”
Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”
You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”
Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”
You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”
He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”
You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”
“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”
“Oh, you’re back.”
Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.
He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”
From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”
You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”
Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”
Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”
You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”
“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”
“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”
“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”
You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”
Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”
Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”
Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”
“Why don’t I just go?”
Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”
Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”
Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.
“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”
Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”
Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”
Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”
Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”
You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”
His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”
Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.
You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.
He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.
While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.
“Want an apple slice?”
You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.
“I’d rather have the knife.”
You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.
Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.
It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.
You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.
“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”
Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”
Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”
Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”
Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”
You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”
“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.”
He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”
“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.
A second passed. Then two.
“…touché, [Y/N].”
“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”
Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”
A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”
“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”
“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.
“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”
Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific.
You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.
You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.
“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”
He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”
You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”
With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”
You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”
Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.
“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”
Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”
You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”
He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”
You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.
He nodded. “It is.”
You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.
Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”
With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.
“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don’t want your hands to get dirty.”
You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”
He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”
That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.
“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”
Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.
“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”
You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—
“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.
“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”
Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.
“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”
He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”
Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice.
He was so close.
The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.
For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.
Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.
“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.
“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.
You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”
A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—
“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”
You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.
He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”
Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze.
Can I…?
You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.
Yes, yes, yes.
Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.
This was everything you could have possibly asked for.
A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.
You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.
Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”
Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”
You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”
He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”
You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—
“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”
Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.
They were back.
“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”
Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.
“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”
Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”
“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”
“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.
Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.”
Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”
Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.
“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.
Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.
Oh, he totally knew.
“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”
Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.
Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”
Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”
“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”
You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.
“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.
Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”
A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.
Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.
Who were the two of you to not take it?
#technoblade x reader#mcyt x reader#dream smp x reader#dsmp x reader#sbi x reader#mcyt x you#mcyt x y/n#mcyt scenario#mcyt fluff#mcyt angst#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt fanfic#mcyt imagine#mcyt imagines#dream smp x you#dream smp x y/n#technoblade x you#technoblade x y/n#technoblade fluff#technoblade imagine#technoblade scenario#technoblade angst#dsmp x you#dsmp x y/n#sbi x y/n#techno x reader#techno x you#techno x y/n#techno fanfic#techno imagine
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clandestine. | 04
↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
◇ jungkook x reader
◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au
◇ 6.5k [4/6]
notes: we finally have a set chapter count! did this fic really need to be 6 chapters? absolutely not, but here we are! i’m hoping to have this fella finished up in the next month or so, but we’ll see how that goes given my track record. happy new year, everyone!
warnings: a little underedited bc i’m lazy, shower sex!!! mild? exhibitionist tendencies??? reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty, but what else is new 🤷🏻♀️
⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06
“I swear to god, I am going to amputate your arm with a rusty hacksaw if you elbow me one more time.”
Undeterred, your brother prods you again, pouting at you from his spot in the driver’s seat. “I just want another chip, Noona. Don’t be so mean.”
“Are you a baby bird?” you ask in disbelief, gaping at the way he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. “Seriously, I’m not feeding you. Get your own chips if you want them so badly.”
“But I’ve gotta keep both hands on the wheel,” he replies cheekily. “Ten and two positions, at all times.”
You frown. “Didn’t they change it to nine and three?” Nonetheless, you reluctantly reach into the bag in your lap, pulling out a potato chip and delivering it to his waiting mouth. “Next one’s going straight into your nose,” you warn as he happily crunches down on the snack.
Jimin simply offers you a beatific grin in between chews. “Love you too.”
“Nope, I changed my mind. Next one’s going up your ass.”
Your brother has long since grown used to your threats. “Kinky,” he chuckles as he merges smoothly into the next lane over. The song on the radio shifts into something more upbeat, and Jungkook is quick to start humming along under his breath from his spot in the seat behind you. Within minutes, it’s morphed into a singalong, and the offkey warbling of all seven passengers—no matter how dissonant—is a perfect soundtrack for the remainder of the drive.
The beach, when you arrive, is awash with tourists and locals alike, all clamoring to lay claim to a prime stretch of sand and a decent parking space. Jimin manages to snag a spot just as someone else is pulling out, and the rest of you are quick to disembark and scope out the beach for somewhere to set up camp. Plopping your bag down onto the sand, you rifle through it until you find your sunscreen, mentally patting yourself on the back for buying the spray instead of the cream.
“Can I borrow that when you’re done, Noona?” Taehyung asks, watching you wrench off the cap.
You nod, squinting against the sunlight. “Sure. As long as you help me get my entire back.”
“Deal.”
Flashing him a grateful smile, you shimmy out of your shorts and begin applying sunscreen to your arms and legs. Taehyung peels off his t-shirt, and you spray him down too, making sure to coat his entire back before he takes the bottle and does the same to you.
“I might have gone a little overboard,” he admits once he’s done, capping the bottle and tossing it back into your bag. Warm hands settle onto your exposed shoulder blades, deft fingertips rubbing the excess product into your skin. “There, that should do it. All better.”
“Thanks, Tae.” You turn around and reach out, wiping at a stray fleck of the white lotion on his bicep. “You’ve got a little bit here too, hang on—“
“Mind if I borrow this?”
You turn at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. The dark-haired young man is standing there with your sunscreen in hand, his gaze zeroed in on the way your fingertips linger on Taehyung’s bare skin. Awkwardly, you pull away and nod, hoping that neither of them can hear your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage.
“Yeah. Sure. It’s all yours.”
Jungkook grabs his white t-shirt by the collar, tugging it up and over his head in one smooth motion, and you swallow at the way his taut abdomen flexes as he tosses it aside. “You’ll help me get my back too, won’t you, Noona?”
You nod, moving before he can even finish his sentence. Your feet carry you across the sandy ground on autopilot, and Jungkook exhales audibly as your palms smooth along the golden expanse of his muscular back, dipping down to the waistband of his black swim trunks. Ever since his visit to your bedroom last night, you’ve been itching to touch him—to feel every last inch of him. It’s impossible with your watchful brother and group of nosy friends hovering around though, so you settle for this—rubbing sunscreen into his warm skin while he sprays down his arms and legs.
“Thanks, princess,” he murmurs once you’re done, soft enough so that only you can hear and raising gooseflesh on the back of your neck. “Maybe next time, you’ll let me repay the favor.”
Then Yugyeom is calling his name, and Jungkook sprints down to the shoreline to join his friend in the crashing surf, his face creasing with laughter. Each time he emerges from the waves, droplets cling to his skin like glistening diamonds in the sunlight. It’s impossible to look away from the sight, and your tongue darts out to moisten your lips as you watch water drip off his hair and down his nape, pooling in his collarbones before he shakes his head like a dog and sends it spraying in all directions.
All that sunscreen is going to waste, a tiny voice in your head points out, but it’s hard to worry about that when you’re too busy following the path of the water streaming down past his dusky nipples to the ridges of his abdomen. And it’s almost as if he feels your gaze on him, because he’s suddenly staring right back at you, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.
“Come on, Noona,” he calls, raking a hand through his drenched hair. “The water’s fine. Don’t make me drag you in.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” you call back, immediately regretting it when something equal parts mischievous and dangerous flashes across his face. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before, and you back away nervously as he emerges from the waves and saunters toward you. “Jungkook—”
“Yes?” he asks, his voice dropping down into a low purr. “What is it, princess?”
You edge around the towel that you’ve laid out in the sand, as if such a flimsy barrier could stop him in any way. “Just—just don’t dunk me under,” you plead.
Jungkook looks genuinely offended by that. “I would never,” he says, laying a hand over his heart and grabbing yours with his free one. “Now come on—let’s get you wet.”
You groan at the innuendo and try to tug free from his grip, but Jungkook only tightens his grasp, cackling the whole way down to the water.
///
The sun is just beginning to set, streaking the blue sky through with wispy strands of orange and gold, when Jimin raises his hand and declares it dinner time. For the past two hours, you’ve all been engrossed in a very tight three-on-three volleyball match with Jimin serving as referee, and upon hearing your brother’s declaration, Minho looks about ready to chuck the ball into the ocean.
“Dude, are you fucking serious? We’re literally two points from winning!” He gestures wildly at an invisible scoreboard only he can see. “No way we’re stopping here. I refuse on principle.”
“Yeah, I wanna see who the real winner is, too,” Jungkook drawls from the other end of the court, where he’s flanked on either side by Taehyung and Yugyeom. “I mean, we’ve been leading for most of the tournament, so…”
Minho scowls. “And we’re about to win the whole damn thing. Just you wait, Jeon.”
Behind him, you and Taemin exchange helpless glances. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen Jungkook and Minho squabble over the years, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. Both possess a razor sharp competitive streak and a certain pigheadedness that only emerges when it comes to athletic endeavors, and luckily, your brother knows this just as well as you do. Heaving a sigh, Jimin wearily gestures for them to continue, resuming his post at the end of the net. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. “Next point wins.”
On the other side of the net, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “I’m good with that if you are.”
“Oh, I’m good,” Minho retorts. “It’s our serve. You ready?”
Jungkook smirks. “Bring it on.”
Minho cracks his knuckles and tosses the ball over to you for the serve. “All right then, let’s fucking do this.”
You sigh. Taking a deep breath, you heft up the ball, testing its weight before hitting it smoothly over the net. Yugyeom jumps up to intercept, batting it back over to your side, and Minho attempts to spike it back and into the sand. Unfortunately, Jungkook is too quick, and dives down to bump it back over to you. The back and forth continues like this for a while—you see Jimin boredly scrolling on his phone out of the corner of your eye—and you’re strongly considering calling it quits when Jungkook smashes the ball over the net and into the ground right at Minho’s feet.
“And that’s game,” he declares proudly, raking his sweaty hair off his forehead with a triumphant grin.
“Are you finally done?” Jimin asks, rolling his eyes and pocketing his phone. “Thank god. Can we eat now?”
Jungkook claps him on the back in affirmation, ignoring Minho’s loud, adamant protests that your team still technically won. Together, you head back to where your towels and bags sit in the sand, grabbing bottles of chilled water out of the cooler and fishing for snacks. Jimin pulls a package of hot dogs out while Taehyung rips open a bag of chips, and you follow their lead and grab the hamburger patties and buns. “Huh, I swear I bought ketchup,” you mumble to yourself as you rummage through the half-melted ice in the cooler. “Is it not in here?”
“I have it.” Jungkook materializes at your side, proffering the little red bottle. He’s pulled his white t-shirt back on, the material a stark contrast to his tanned skin, and you silently rise to your feet to take it when a sudden wave of lightheadedness rushes over you and sends the world spinning.
“Whoa,” you gasp, swaying on your feet. “Oh, god.”
Jungkook frowns and drops the ketchup bottle, steadying you until most of your weight is leaned against him. “Noona? Are you okay?”
You swallow, hard, and try to shake the unexpected bout of dizziness away. “I don’t know. Got dizzy, all of a sudden. I think I might have stood up too fast?”
Gently, Jungkook presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You feel pretty warm,” he murmurs. “Have you had enough water today?”
“I thought I drank plenty, but maybe not,” you admit, and he nods decisively and gestures for you to follow him.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s grab some water and go somewhere quiet so you can rest. Minho isn’t going to shut up about that match anytime soon, and it’s cooler down by the water.”
You laugh weakly. “We did technically win, you know. We had one more point than you guys.”
“God, not you too,” Jungkook sighs, casting you a playful look over his shoulder as he digs two bottles of water out from the cooler. He uncaps one and hands it over before taking a swig out of his, and you take a grateful sip, relishing in the cool liquid that trickles down your throat.
Nearby, your brother and the rest of the boys have commandeered one of several firepits scattered around the edges of the beach. They’re piling up pieces of driftwood and some of the long, tall sea grass that Taehyung has found, and Jungkook waves at them as he slowly guides you toward the ocean with a hand on your back. “We’re gonna go find some more wood!” he calls, and Jimin raises a hand in acknowledgment before turning back to the firepit.
Water laps gently at your toes as you and Jungkook walk along the shore, washing away all traces of your footprints. The sun dips below the horizon at last, illuminating the sky in one last burst of red and orange and gold that slowly fades into deep purples and blues as night falls. The temperature dips as the moon ascends to her lofty throne, accompanied by a smattering of starry pinpricks. Most of the beachgoers have packed up and left by this point, and here, with nothing but Jungkook’s quiet, familiar presence and the lapping waves, you feel more at peace than you have in a long time.
“You know, I’m really glad I came this weekend,” you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you. Your gaze drops down to your toes, fixing your attention on a pearly white seashell that’s sticking out from the wet sand. “I think you were right—I really did need a break from everything.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that,” Jungkook says, swirling his pinky in his ear. “Could you say it again? Something about me being right?”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
Jungkook casts a quick look over his shoulder, and when you follow the trajectory of his gaze, you notice just how far you’ve gotten from the firepit where the others are sitting. Darkness has settled over the beach, the sand painted a wan silver from the light of the moon, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand finds its way around yours.
“Jungkook—” you begin, but trail off when he twines your fingers together and gives your hand a squeeze.
“They can’t see us, Noona,” he murmurs. “Relax.”
Easier said than done, you want to say. Nevertheless, you suck in a deep breath and take another sip from your water bottle, trying to ignore the way Jungkook swings your interlocked hands between you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we be trying to find more driftwood?” you ask after several long seconds have dragged by. “We need way more if we’re gonna keep the fire going.”
Jungkook hums softly and veers inland, until the sand beneath your feet is dry and starts sticking to your wet toes. You come across a few scattered pieces of wood, dried out by the sun, and tuck them beneath your arm. Likewise, Jungkook gathers a few pieces of his own, hefting them up before reaching out to take your hand once more. His fingers slot all too comfortably into the spaces between yours, and your heart stutters a few times in your chest before plunking down into your churning stomach.
Nighttime has well and truly settled over the beach by the time you and Jungkook start picking your way back over to rejoin the group around the firepit. You pull your hand out of Jungkook’s well before you reach the ring of orange light that the flames cast across the sand, your arm now swinging free at your side and your fingers cold from the loss of his warmth. Silently, you hasten your pace and plop down onto the towel that Jimin has spread out, stretching out your legs toward the fire and wiggling your toes.
“Where have you guys been?” Jimin asks curiously. “You just kinda wandered off.”
“Getting more driftwood,” you reply, gesturing at the small pile you’ve dropped at the edge of the towel. “We told you that’s where we were going.”
Jimin frowns for a few seconds before the memory resurfaces. “Oh, right. I forgot.”
Jungkook snorts and takes a seat beside you, dropping his stack of driftwood on top of yours. “Dumbass.”
“You’re a dumbass,” Jimin retorts.
“You’re both dumbasses,” you sigh.
The fire crackles merrily, sending orange sparks up into the velvety black sky. There’s a grill situated over the flames, loaded with hamburger patties and hot dogs, and you watch as Jimin tears open a bag of hot dog buns and begins to place them around the edges.
“Hey, can you throw me the hamburger buns?” he asks you. “I wanna try toasting them.”
“You’re gonna burn them,” you tell him flatly. Nonetheless, you locate the second bag and toss it over, watching as he makes more room on the grill.
Dinner is a loud, chaotic affair, filled with laughter and conversation and plenty of booze to go around. Jimin has procured a flask of whiskey from somewhere in his clothing—an impressive feat in and of itself, considering he’s only wearing swim trunks and a thin blue t-shirt. You wave him off when he offers you a sip, and he shrugs and throws back a generous swallow himself. Then he offers it to Jungkook, who shakes his head and raises his water bottle. “Designated driver,” he says. “I’m sticking to water tonight.”
Curiously, you glance over at him. “You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t planning on drinking, so I can drive us back.”
“With the way you were looking earlier?” Jungkook fixes you with a look of pure disbelief. “Not a chance. Besides, we’re going back to the real world tomorrow, and the last thing I need is to be hungover. I have to get us back home in one piece, not to mention the entire menu I still have to memorize for work.”
You hum. Jungkook has mentioned his new job a few times—a summer stint working as a server at a new restaurant opened by a family friend named Seokjin. “Right, I remember you saying that. You start on Monday, don’t you?”
“Dinner shift,” Jungkook confirms. “I stole a whole bunch of pens from Junghyun’s room the other day in preparation. Jin said I’d probably end up losing two-thirds of them by the end of the week.”
“That sounds about right,” you tell him with a laugh. “Some guy stole my favorite pen last summer when I was working at that diner on Main. Lesson learned, forever.”
Jungkook laughs. “Yeah, I bet.”
You grin. “But, hey, seriously. If you need me to quiz you on that menu, I’ve got time to spare.”
“Honestly, I might take you up on that offer. I have flash cards, and everything.” He uncaps his water bottle and takes a long sip, his throat bobbing with each swallow, before glancing back over at you. “What about you? You ready for your internship?”
You sigh and offer him a helpless little shrug. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, to be honest. I don’t think I’m going to stop stressing about it until I get through my first day. The entire thing still doesn’t feel real.”
“I get that,” Jungkook hums. “Well, I can imagine it, at least. I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through, since I’ve never had an adult job, but—“ He shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly. “I can kind of relate, I guess.”
“All jobs suck a little bit,” you tell him, and Jungkook lets out a derisive huff of agreement.
“I’ll drink to that,” he says, and the two of you tap your water bottles together before rejoining the conversation with the rest of your friends.
///
The drive back to the lake house is shorter than you remember it being—though that might be because you spend most of it watching Jungkook drive. He steers with one hand slung carelessly over the wheel, his expression relaxed as he sings along to whatever pop hit plays on the radio. Unloading the car is a team effort, though you hear no shortage of complaints from Jimin as he heaves the cooler over the threshold of the house before collapsing atop it in a pile of limp limbs.
“Thanks for leaving me to carry this thing by myself,” he snarks, not even bothering to raise his head. “Really appreciate it.”
“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung scoffs, tossing a game console at him. “Have a beer and pick something to play. We’re waiting on you.”
You watch as your brother immediately hops up and darts over to join the rest of the boys lounging in the living room, fighting back the sudden wave of exhaustion that washes over you. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, hiding a yawn behind your hand. “Goodnight, guys.”
A chorus of goodnights and see you in the mornings rings out in response, and you wave before heading down the hall to your room and into the adjoining bathroom. Your hair is crusty from being submerged in the salty water of the ocean, and a shower to rejuvenate your dehydrated skin is just what you need. Turning on the tap, you wait until it’s flowing warm before stripping out of your clothes and tossing them onto your bed to deal with later. Then you step into the shower and tilt your head back, letting the water stream down your face and soak into your hair.
You’re midway through squeezing a generous dollop of shampoo into your palm when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Noona?” Jungkook’s voice filters through the sound of rushing water, low and lilting like a song. “You left kinda fast. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
You cap the shampoo bottle and replace it on the shelf, peering out from behind the shower curtain. “I’m fine,” you call, hesitating before you steel your nerves and continue. “You can come in, if you want. I don’t like yelling through the door.”
Slowly, the bathroom door eases open, revealing Jungkook standing in his and Jimin’s shared bedroom. His brown eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him, and you have no doubt that he’s thinking about just what the palm tree patterned curtain is hiding from his view. Your lip finds its way between your teeth when you notice him shuffle his feet awkwardly for a moment before stepping a little closer to where you’re standing beneath the spray, his mouth opening to speak.
“Join me?”
The invitation slips past your lips, unbidden, but you have no intention of taking it back. Not when Jungkook’s gaze darkens to obsidian at those two simple words, his mouth snapping shut and his hands already reaching for the hem of his white t-shirt. Not when he strips it off in one smooth motion to reveal all the dips and ridges of his abdomen, his skin golden even under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lights. And certainly not when he pulls aside the shower curtain and joins you beneath the spray, his dark eyes appreciatively raking up and down your bare figure.
“Hey,” he says, his voice a low purr.
“Hi,” you respond, reaching out and trailing a fingertip down his chest.
And then you’re dropping down to your knees, your tongue darting out to tease at the tip of his already rising cock. One hand finds its way to his balls while the other traces the line of his pelvic bone, and you smirk when you feel him let out a shuddery breath.
“Fuck,” he rasps. “Someone’s eager.”
You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, humming, and Jungkook’s fingers fly into your dampened hair. “Oh, fuck. You’re really trying to kill me, huh, princess?” he asks, and you respond by taking a little more of him into your mouth, laving at the vein running along the underside of his length before hollowing your cheeks. Jungkook throws his head back, a deep groan escaping his parted lips, and you preen under his encouragement as he urges you to take him deeper.
You’ve just begun to settle into a rhythm—figuring out exactly how much pressure he likes and what makes his hips buck—when he suddenly pushes you away. “Jung—” you begin, only to have him silence you with a searing kiss, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you to your feet.
“Wanna fuck you properly,” he rasps. His hand finds its way between your legs, experimental fingers sliding through the wetness that’s gathered there, and your cheeks heat up when he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. “Just let me go grab a condom,” he whispers urgently. “Don’t move a muscle, okay? I’ll be righ—”
You silence him with a hard kiss. “Don’t,” you mumble. “I’m clean. Are you?”
Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes wide. “Does that mean… I mean, are you…?”
“I’m on the pill,” you murmur. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”
A sharp gasp escapes you when Jungkook cages you against the cool tiled wall of the shower, the slick surface dampened by the spray from the showerhead. He grabs ahold of your thigh and hoists it up to wrap around his waist, and you’ve never been more thankful for the ugly fish patterned shower mat that your mom insisted on putting down to prevent slipping. Jungkook nestles into the newly created space between your legs, his cock hot and slick against your center, and you keen when he grinds against you in a slow, deliberate motion.
“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek. “Feel how hard you get me, Noona?”
“God, Jungkook,” you breathe back. “Just fuck me already, will you?”
His answering chuckle sends a shiver from your toes to your crown. “So needy,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from your thigh to your hip. His mouth seeks out yours as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, meeting little resistance as he slowly begins pushing inside. Your walls part willingly for him and your lips do too—his questing tongue slipping inside when you moan and beginning his seemingly endless task of mapping out every corner of your mouth.
“God, I forgot how big you are,” you breathe when he bottoms out—the entirety of his hot, heavy length sheathed within your walls. Your head falls back against the tile as he rolls his hips experimentally, a moan that sounds vaguely like Jungkook’s name escaping your lips. Your arms come up to brace on his shoulders as he picks up his pace, but he intercepts one of your hands and twines your fingers together, settling them onto the wall just to the left of your head. His other hand returns to your thigh to keep you stable and spread out for his increasingly harsh thrusts, and you whimper helplessly in his ironclad grip.
“That’s it,” he whispers, groaning when you clench around him. “God, you’re so fucking tight, princess.”
“Fuck me open, then,” you moan back, squeezing his hand and meeting his next thrust with one of your own. Jungkook’s breathing stutters, and you laugh breathlessly at the way his mouth falls open at the spike of pleasure. Emboldened, you grind against him, the spray from the shower easing the movement. “Jungkook, please.”
He chuckles hoarsely. “Careful what you wish for,” he purrs against the shell of your ear, punctuating the warning with a harsh roll of his hips that sends all remaining thought flying out of your head. In this moment, there’s only Jungkook—his dark hair dampened and dripping, the spray from the showerhead slicking his chest and pooling in his clavicle before trailing down each ridge and dip of his honeyed skin. His lips find yours again, and you sigh into the kiss as he begins to fuck you in earnest.
“Hey, Jungkook! You in there?”
Your eyes fly open at the new voice, your body tensing when there are several loud bangs on the door. Jungkook freezes mid-thrust with an expression that can only be described as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, his throat bobbing nervously as he fights to find a response. You can practically see the gears whirring in his brain, and shove uselessly at his chest in an attempt to escape his steely embrace.
“That’s Jimin,” you hiss urgently, turning his face toward yours and prodding his cheek until his gaze refocuses. “What the fuck are we going to do?”
“Dude.” Jimin’s voice is laced with irritation. “I wanna brush my teeth! What the hell are you doing in there?”
Jungkook hesitates, glancing between you and the closed bathroom door. Then he inhales deeply, pressing a light kiss to your furrowed forehead before pulling the shower curtain closed, ensuring there are no gaps. “I got you,” he murmurs softly, his brown eyes boring into yours. “Don’t worry, okay?”
Your eyes flutter shut at the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin, but they fly open again when Jungkook breaks away and yells for Jimin to come in. Warm palms slide soothingly down your sides, but that doesn’t stop you from tensing up when the bathroom door creaks open, your brother’s soft footsteps approaching the flimsy palm tree patterned curtain.
“Have you been showering this whole time? Jeez. Leave some hot water for the rest of us, will you?”
Jungkook chuckles. Ever so slowly, he pushes forward until he’s fully seated inside you again, and you do your best to level a glare at him even as pleasure flares at the base of your spine. “There’s plenty to go around,” he says. “Relax.”
You get the distinct feeling that he’s not just addressing Jimin anymore. Jungkook pulls back until only the top of his cock remains nestled in your folds, and you open your mouth to berate him but all that comes out is a low moan when he sinks back inside you in one swift push.
On the other side of the curtain, you hear the faucet turn on. “Man, I can’t believe we leave tomorrow,” Jimin says over the sound of running water. “The weekend flew by.”
“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, brushing a thumb across your clit. The pace he’s set is slow and deep, and is made all the more sensual by the steam that’s steadily building up in the small room. You try once more to push him away—to quell the growing ache between your legs—but it’s all in vain as he chuckles softly into the crook of your neck, his bare shoulders quaking. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs, his voice a wicked little whisper that’s immediately lost in the spray of water. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”
You don’t have a chance to answer. Jimin starts speaking again, this time accompanied by the sound of toothbrush bristles scrubbing against his teeth. “I’m starting up at the studio as soon as we get back—isn’t that crazy? I mean, I’ve never taught anyone how to dance before. Not really. Not for real.”
Jungkook snaps his hips up so sharply that you nearly mewl in surprise, forced to bite down into his meaty shoulder to muffle the noises that threaten to escape from your throat. “You’re a great tutor, man,” he says, his voice steady even as he resumes his slow, lazy thrusts, his cock dragging along your fluttering walls. “You’ve been helping people with math for, what, two years? What makes you think it’ll be any different with dancing?”
Jimin spits into the sink and sighs. “I don’t know. It’s scarier because there’ll be more people, I guess. Tutoring is one on one, y’know? And at the studio, I’ll have a full class of people watching me. Every single move I make, they’ll be looking at. That’s fucking terrifying to think about.”
Slowly, Jungkook’s hips still, his cock buried to the hilt in your cunt. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, backed by the relentless spray from the showerhead, and Jungkook leans down to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, his hair dripping.
“You’re a great dancer, Jimin,” he says once he’s pulled back and straightened back up to his full height. “Best one I know. You’re also one of the smartest people I know, but right now, you’re being really fucking dumb.”
There’s a clatter that sounds like a plastic toothbrush being dropped into the sink, and Jimin lets out an affronted squeak. “Hey!”
Jungkook just chuckles, his shoulders quaking. “It’s true,” he says easily. “Seriously, man. You don’t have a thing to worry about. You’re gonna kick ass out there, and your class is gonna be awesome. You’re already, what, almost maxed out on the number of registrants? You’re already killing it.”
Your brother lets out an unintelligible grumble on the other side of the shower curtain, but you can still hear the smile in his voice no matter how hard he tries to mask it. “All right, you fucking sap,” Jimin says at last, his soft footsteps padding toward the door. “Hurry up and get out of there, yeah? You’re really gonna use up all the hot water.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and you immediately smack Jungkook in the middle of his stupidly toned chest. “Oh my god!” you hiss. “Are you kidding me right now, Jeon? We could’ve been caught!”
“But we weren’t,” Jungkook replies easily, shaking his dampened hair out of his face and fixing you with an indolent little smirk. “So why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me now?”
///
The next morning brings with it a whirlwind of frenzied packing, and you mentally congratulate yourself for preemptively gathering all of your belongings together last night. Minho is wandering every last inch of the house with a piece of half-eaten toast dangling from his mouth, and you can hear Taehyung in the distance asking if anyone’s seen his strawberry body wash. Jungkook is seated on the floor near the front door, his brows furrowed and his lower lip jutting out in a pout as he fights to close the zipper of his suitcase.
“Got it!” he exclaims after a few seconds, triumphant. “Where’s your stuff, Noona? I’m gonna load the car.”
You begin to stand up from your spot on the couch. “It’s in my room, let me go get—”
Jungkook is on his feet and halfway down the hall before you can even finish your sentence. He returns a moment later with your luggage in tow, shooting you a grin and a wink as he passes by. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs. “Remember?”
Of course you do. You remember like it was yesterday—because, well, it was yesterday and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. You remember the moment you shared at the beach and the way his hand felt so right wrapped around your own. You remember the way you’d dropped to your knees for him so readily in the shower last night. And you definitely remember the way he’d fucked you afterward—slow and deep in the best possible way, even with your brother’s untimely interruption.
After what feels like an eternity, both cars are finally packed and ready to go. You bid goodbye to the boys who are riding with Jimin, promising to stay in touch, before climbing into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s beat-up sedan. Jungkook himself is already lounging behind the wheel, his sunglasses perched low on his nose as he fiddles with his phone. He looks up at your entrance and flashes you a smile, tapping his screen a few more times before holding it up so you can see.
“I changed your contact photo,” he says. “Like it?”
You peer at his phone, and something in your chest clenches when you see the photo he’s selected. You’re on the beach beside the volleyball net, illuminated by the setting sun. The sky is streaked through with pink and orange behind you, but through some editing magic, Jungkook has made it so that you are glowing even brighter in the foreground—with laughter etched across your face and the wind in your hair. It’s a beautiful photograph, and you tell him so, unable to contain the dangerously warm affection blossoming in your chest.
“I love it,” you say. “I usually don’t like having my photo taken, but wow. You have a talent for this.”
Jungkook’s smile grows. “I have a pretty muse,” he replies, and your cheeks warm.
The door to the backseat opens with a bang, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden sound. “Yo,” Yugyeom says, plopping down and buckling his seatbelt. “We ready to roll?”
Jungkook scowls and puts his phone back into his pocket. “Careful with the door, man. I need this thing to last through the summer.”
Yugyeom puts his hands up in apology, and Jungkook turns back to face the front, starting the ignition with a flick of his wrist. The engine sputters to life, and Jungkook waits for Jimin to pull out first before following after him, tailing the van out of the driveway and onto the winding road that will take you back into the city.
“Music?” you ask, gesturing at the stereo.
“Go for it,” Jungkook replies. “You want my phone so you can put on the roadtrip mix?”
“Sure.”
With the help of the upbeat music and Jungkook’s tendency to drive just a touch over the speed limit, you make it to the winding roads of Yugyeom’s neighborhood in what must be record time. “You missed the turn,” Yugyeom says lazily from where he’s sprawled across the entire backseat. “Turn left here—we can circle around and approach from the other side.”
Two more turns and a descent down a steep hill later, Jungkook manages to successfully drop Yugyeom off at his house. The drive across town takes no time at all, and before long, you’re cruising into your neighborhood, coasting past Jungkook’s driveway and straight into yours.
“Looks like we beat Jimin back,” you remark, looking at the empty spot where the van usually sits.
Jungkook hums. “Makes sense. He has more people to drop off.”
“Mm. Yeah.”
The sudden awkwardness that falls doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Clearing your throat, you reach for your purse, grabbing it from where it’s fallen to the ground near your feet. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” you begin, turning to open the door.
A strong hand wraps around your wrist, forcing you back into your seat. “Is that it?” Jungkook asks, and there’s an edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. “Are you gonna go back to pretending like there’s nothing between us?”
You shake him free. “There isn’t anything between us,” you whisper. “We’re not on vacation anymore, Jungkook. We’re back home. Back to real life. We can’t do—whatever it is that we’ve been doing.”
“But you’re attracted to me,” Jungkook growls. “You like me. So why do you keep running away?”
A sigh escapes you. “Jungkook, it doesn’t matter if I like you or no—”
He interrupts before you can even finish your sentence. “Yes it does. It’s the only thing that matters.” And then he’s pulling you into his chest, taking advantage of your skewed sense of balance, and crushing his mouth to yours.
This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared so far. It’s hungry and passionate, and yet it’s tinged with something else—something that feels strangely akin to desperation. Jungkook kisses you with urgency, and it’s so raw and unbridled that it steals the very breath from your lungs and leaves you lightheaded.
Jungkook doesn’t say a word when he pulls away. Instead, he reaches down, popping the handle that opens the trunk and stepping out to pull your suitcase from within. Silently, he presses the handle into your hand.
And then he’s turning—climbing back into his car and leaving you with nothing but the memory of his lips and a whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.
#bangtanarmynet#jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook scenarios#bts smut#bts scenarios#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts fanfiction#jeon jungkook#bts#lia writes
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The Proposal- Din Djarin x Reader
Request: Din proposing to Reader like in the movie The Proposal 😆- @along-the-lines-of-space
A/n: Wait! This is such a cute idea. I kinda strayed from the movie plot and made my own, so hopefully, you like it! I love you, darling!!!
Summary: You and the Mandalorian have to play husband and wife to capture your next bounty. But major things start to show and come to light.
Warnings: some foul language. But that’s it. :)
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“Don’t you walk all menacingly like! I had no other option!” You storm after the broody Mandalorian, your hands waving in the air as they try to demonstrate your thoughts.
He just growls as he continues walking to the ship.
“Did you have a better idea?” You give him a minute to respond and when he says nothing, you lift your head a little higher. “No, just what I thought. All I care about is the fact that we are going to get this bounty thanks to me!”
He twirls around suddenly and stalks towards you. Instinctively, you want to shy away and you have to bite down a squeak. But you keep your ground and glare right into his visor, hoping his stupid eyes will feel your hatred.
The abyss of his visor stares hard and cold into your soul. And you stare back. Hard.
But he just sighs and turns away. For whatever reason, this just makes you even madder.
“No, you don’t get to walk away! Come back here!”
Then he speaks for the first time in the past hour.
“Get on your knee.”
Your face recoils in confusion, “What?”
He turns around and looks at you with a hidden smirk. “If you want to marry me, then ask. Get. On. Your. Knee.”
Your mouth hangs open in shock at the audacity of him.
“No.”
“Looks like we’re out two thousand credits then.”
Cursing, you hate that he’s right. You both need this money. Greef had said that if you wanted this high of a bounty then the two of you would have to somehow get to the bounty's wedding. In a sudden burst of creativity, you declared that the two of you would play a newlywed couple. You’ve never seen his helmet turn so quickly.
You seethe as you fall to your knee. “I hate you.”
“That’s not the right word, dear.” He stands smugly as he puts emphasis on the pet name. His arms cross over his chest and he leans his weight onto one leg.
You mentally stab him about five times before sighing. “Mando…”
He hums, amusement laced in his voice.
“Will you,” a smirk works its way onto your face, “the love of my life, my sweet sweet puppy. I will never be able to live without you.”
His weight shifts back to be centered.
“I cannot go another day without asking you this.” Your hands clutch over your heart as you bat your eyelashes at him.
“Get on with it.” The amusement is no longer there.
“Will you make me the happiest person in the world and…” You intentionally stop, seeing just how long you can draw this out before he snaps.
“Ask the god damn question.”
Ah, not as long as you thought. But alas, the show must go on. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes, now get up and walk faster. Maybe if you run you can keep up.”
***
All those couples you see smiling at each other make marriage look like a dream come true.
But these past few days have been hell. Literal hell.
Clinging to his arm and smiling as people talk to you. Having to hold his gloved hand that is way too large to be anatomically correct. Making up scenarios of how you both met, of your first kiss, of your own wedding day.
If the ground opened up and swallowed you, you’d probably say thank you.
As for now, you’re sitting next to him at the large table you’re all having the rehearsal dinner at. Surprisingly, the bounty seems to be a nice guy. You can tell he loves his soon-to-be husband, and that he loves him as well. You’d never think that he used to be an imperial spy.
“Oh, you two are so cute!” An older lady from across the table smiles at you.
You smile back and thank her, squeezing the Mandalorian’s arm. His visor turns to look at where you did, then rises up to meet your gaze. His hand moves over and squeezes your thigh.
Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back above the table and offer the lady another smile.
She giggles and leans forward, “You have as much fun as you want, I won’t tell.”
It takes everything in you not to cringe as you slowly nod your head and turn back to the Mandalorian.
His shoulders slightly shake and you just know he’s softly laughing under that helmet.
“Don’t laugh.” You whisper at him.
“But honey, why don’t we go back and have some fun.”
You glare at him, but then you get his idea. “Shhh, don’t say it so loud.” You both rise from the table and slide outside the restaurant, but not without the older lady sending you another wink.
As soon as the fresh air nips at your skin, you lean over in loud laughter. “Oh my goodness, I can’t.”
His vocoder cracks as his own laughs filter through. It’s a strong handsome laugh, one that is contagious and makes you stare at him with awe. In all honesty, you weren’t sure he knew how to laugh.
***
A knock sounds on your door and you rise up immediately. Crap! Mando is on the floor, that won’t look good to anyone. Grabbing anything you can, you throw it at the sleeping warrior.
Thump!
The first pillow does nothing.
Thump!
The second heavier one makes a louder sound but still draws no response from him.
The knocks sound again.
“Coming, just one second!”
You grab whatever you can and…
Clank!
You cringe as the water bottle hits him directly on the helmet.
He instantly rises and then the knocks sound again. Catching onto the problem, he stands up and starts throwing everything back on the bed.
You mean to help, but those strong golden thighs distract you. What you would give to be able to run your hand over those muscles and feel them ripple beneath your touch.
What you would give?
Nothing! You hate him! He’s annoying and snores loudly.
Shaking your head, you make the bed presentable and pretend to have just woken up as he opens the door.
“Hi!” The bounty’s fiancé peaks his head in. “Just wanted to let you all know that my mom made cinnamon rolls, I would get down there before they are gone. He offers a smile to you before walking back out into the hall.
You have no idea why, but the fiancé has taken a liking to the two of you. It almost makes you sad to collect his husband.
The Mandalorian turns to you and starts to grab his clothes and armor, dressing himself.
Suddenly you realize that if you both go down he’ll be unable to eat the cinnamon rolls. You play with the end of your shirt, the edges fraying from many years of you sleeping in it. “You know…” his visor looks up to you, “I can go get a couple and bring them back. That way you can try one and I’ll take a shower.”
Why did you say that? He’s not going to care. He’ll probably just laugh at you. In fact, why do you care?
He slowly nods his head after a minute. “That’d be nice.”
***
The hot water pours down onto your back and yet you can’t help but to ponder about the man outside the door. He’s out there, with his helmet off.
You’ve never cared about this before, but you start to wonder what he looks like. Does he have a soft boyish face or one of a hardened warrior? Is his hair a dark black or a light blond? What about his skin, is it light and fair, or deep and brown?
Thoughts run through your mind as you wrap the fluffy towel around yourself. Then you catch your reflection in the mirror. Since when have you had a small smile on your face?
Shaking your head, you slide your clothes on and open the door. You’re met with the back of a head, brown hair curly and shaggy rested atop a strong golden neck. Before you can even process what you’re seeing, you slam the door shut and lock yourself in the bathroom.
A soft knock sounds on the door. You slowly open it and keep your eyes trained on the floor. “I-, I only saw the back of your head, sorry.” Your body deflates as your shoulders drop in shame.
“It’s okay, but I need to pee.”
“Oh.” You shuffle out of the room and as soon as the door shuts you fling yourself onto the bed. Grabbing a pillow you press it against your face and scream. Why do these things always happen to you?
Why does his hair have to look so perfect to run your fingers through? Why does his neck have to be that perfect golden brown that you want to kiss? Why does he have to be so handsome?
***
As the wedding approaches, you have started to see the fierce warrior in a new light. He offers to help old ladies up stairs and jokes with the other young men. When asked about you, he speaks with so much adoration you have started to forget that he doesn’t actually love you.
Maybe you’re just being hyperaware, but he seems to always be watching you. When you turn your head to him, he already has his visor trained on you. Even when you’re across the room conversing with others he always has an eye on you.
His voice has become softer, losing the gruff edge it once held. The underlying anger having melted into a warm glow that surprised you both. A small smile seems to have made its home on both your faces, only leaving when one another isn’t around.
As the two of you lay awake, you on the bed, and the Mandalorian on the floor, you break the silence.
“I can’t do it.”
The Mandalorian makes no response, so you continue.
“I can’t take him. You’ve seen how happy they are together. How big they smile for one another and how their eyes soften. Sure he may have once been a spy but he’s changed. I mean since then his record is nearly perfect. I don’t want to be the one who tears his happiness away.”
Again, your companion says nothing.
“I know we need the money, so I can pull some strings and we can work stuff out. You won’t have to do anything, but I can’t let either of us come between them. I know it may be cheesy but what they have is a pure and true love.”
You fade back to silence, staring up at the dark ceiling and contemplating everything you just said.
“Okay.”
***
The wedding is big and bright. Garlands of beautiful flowers hang everywhere, matching the candles and lights perfectly.
And as the two men say their vows, you can’t help but entangle your arm around the Mandalorians. A single tear falls from your eye as you notice the way they look at one another. With so much passion and devotion, it’s the kind of love people wish for.
You don’t know it, but the Mandalorian's eyes don’t watch the two lovers, they instead watch you.
It’s in this moment that he finally understands why his heart swells when you’re around. He understands why he always needs to make sure you’re safe and sound. He understands why everything in him screams to wipe away your tears and hold you close.
Because he loves you.
***
You sit in silence, the Mandalorian piloting the Crest and you to his right. As the Crest falls into autopilot he turns to look at you.
When you meet his visor, you offer him a smile. “That was beautiful. I mean did you see how amazing the decor team did.”
He only nods heart heavy with anxiety.
You continue talking about all the aspects you loved, from the color scheme to the cake. But you stop when his hand rests on your own.
Tension lays thick between the two of you, suffocating and intense. You don't miss the way his adam apple bobs as he clears his throat.
“I- last week I was so furious at you. I loathed you. But, as we had to pretend things started to change. But…” his hand squeezes your own as you look up at him with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize any of this until I saw you on the wedding day. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And as you shed your tears I wanted nothing more than to be able to wipe them away and promise you comfort.”
He slides off the chair to rest on his knees before you.
“So, please… marry me. Because I want to be able to make you as happy as that bounty, I want to stand before you and say my vows with the pretty lights and amazing garlands. I want you.”
Your jaw hangs open as you draw on hand to cover it. Water wells up at the corner of your eyes as you replay his words over in your head.
Nodding your head frantically, you fall into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Yes… yes yes yes.”
One of his hands cups the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist. He chuckles as all his anxieties fade away.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
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So yeah I hope you liked it!
Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment. I love hearing what you all have to say.
Love, Lordy :)
Masterlist
Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart @remmysbounty @t3a-bag @all-along-the-resolute @impala1967666 @rosiefridayrogersunday @donnaa @over300books
If you want to be added/removed from my tag list- just give me a holler and I’ll happily do it!!! :)
#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#mando#mando x reader#mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader
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Hi!! Can I request for Bang Chan + continuation for breathe, and live? (for the fic game)
I love that series so much and how it’s like a collection of oneshots for a single universe 🥺💗 It’s like peeking at memories so I revisit that series often 😂 Congrats for reaching another milestone here!! 💖 love your works a lot!
anon you're so sweet, your metaphor about peeking into memories just makes me HHHHH /sends you all the virtual hugs and kisses I can spare/ I'm glad you enjoyed the series that much, so I hope you enjoy this continuation too!
4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!
Read the original series, Breathe, and Live, here!
~
Title: Catch Me If You Can (You Can)
Pairing: Chan x fem!reader (only because reader is fem in the original series, but it could be read as gender neutral here!)
Word count: 689
Triggers: none
~
The smell of coffee wafts through the air as you sit on the couch, three boys perched around you as they argue about something your sleepy brain can't really be bothered to listen to. Coffee sounds so good right now - thank god for Chan, really, making your caffeinated bean juice in the kitchen at this very moment.
A small body presses into your side. You look down to see Hyunjin staring at Jisung, a bemused expression on his little face. "Even with coffee?"
"Papa always catches me in his arms," Jisung says confidently. "He'd drop the coffee. Right, Lixie?"
Felix nods quickly. "Yeah!"
Okay, you have no idea where this conversation came from - last you heard, they were talking about which Pokemon is the best - but at least this is something you can follow. "Drop coffee?" you ask. "What coffee?"
"If Papa was carrying coffee but I jumped at him, he would drop the coffee and catch me instead," Felix explains. "Same for Sungie and Jinnie."
Hyunjin frowns. "Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
Well, this sounds like an interesting experiment. It might be a waste of a cup of coffee, but...
This will wake you up way more than any cup of bean juice ever could.
You grin. "Well, boys, why don't we test it out?"
. . .
When the coffee machine stops whirring in the kitchen, the boys are in position. Jisung stands a little distance away from the entrance, ready to run and leap into his father's arms. Hyunjin and Felix watch carefully from the sides, ready to both observe and possibly jump into Chan's arms as well, to provide two more pieces of evidence for this experiment.
As for you? You're on the couch with your phone out, ready to record every second of this. All for scientific reasons, of course.
"Y/N, I have your coffee." Chan's footsteps sound from the kitchen. Phone trained on the entrances, you press record. "It's so quiet in here -"
"PAPA!"
Chan's eyes widen almost comically as he registers a little ball of squirrel-human racing toward him at full speed. "No, Jisung, I'm holding coffee -!"
The coffee drops to the ground with a crash and a splash, and Jisung lands safely in his father's arms.
For a moment, everything is silent. Chan looks around over the top of his son's head, eyes wide in confusion. Your phone is beginning to shake in your hands out of suppressed laughter. Meanwhile, Hyunjin and Felix both give each other one look, then -
"PAPA!!!"
Two more tiny children go hurtling into Chan's arms, and suddenly, there are now three boys wrapped in various positions around Chan's body, and Chan looks even more confused. "Y/N," he asks, muffled around Felix's hair, "what's going on? Hey - are you recording me?"
You end the recording. Minho is going to get a kick out of this when you send it to him. "The boys wanted to see if you'd drop your coffee to catch them," you grin.
His eyes narrow. "You put them up to this, didn't you."
The grin on your face says everything.
"Don't send the video out." Chan's eyes turn pleading. "Please."
"No promises." You stand up, tucking your phone safely away. There's an empty space on Chan's back, and you want to see just how much he can stand before this little tower of people collapses.
Chan notices you eyeing his back as you come closer. "Y/N, no."
You grin. "Y/N, yes."
(Chan falls under the weight of three children and one adult, leaving the five of you a pile of giggles on the ground. Someone's hand is on your nose and you're pretty sure Hyunjin is wiggling underneath you, but the funniest part is Chan lying face down on ground, covered in four other bodies.
"You're cleaning up the mess," he says, muffled into the floor.
"Yeah, yeah. Of course." You slowly extricate yourself from the pile and pat his head. "Oh, good morning, by the way."
He turns his head just enough that you can see the exasperated smile on his lips. "Good morning to you too, Y/N.")
#districtninewriters#destinyversenet#kpopscape#stray kids#skz#bang chan#chan#stray kids chan#skz chan#stray kids chan scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids oneshots#stray kids imagines#skz scenarios#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids chan x reader#skz chan x reader#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#drabble#fluff#single parent!au#breathe and live#catch me if you can (you can)#4 year anniversary drabble game#lina answers#anon#scriptura delirus
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World Tour
Sirius Black x reader, band AU
Words: 12k
Written for @slytherinquill‘s writing challenge!
A/N: I’ve been wanting to write a band AU for so long now and here it is! I worked really hard on it and I so hope you like it!
Never in your whole life had you thought that you would get where you are right now; rushing through the airport with no one less than James Potter, the guitarist of the world famous band The Marauders.
You had been a fan of them for years, ever since they started. You watched them grow from little teenage boys doing covers on YouTube to the twenty-four year olds they were now, selling out arenas. The aforementioned James Potter and his electric guitar were a golden combination, Remus Lupin mastered the art of playing the bass, Peter Pettigrew never missed a single beat on the drums and then you had Sirius Black. Lead singer. He looked like how you would imagine one; thick, black hair, angelic bone structure, mysterious eyes and a voice like a child of the devil and an angel. To say that thousands of girls were just fan of him was an understatement.
Even you bore a little crush on him. But how could you not? The man was a god.
How you ever ended up in this situation was still vague to you. Not because you didn't know what had happened but because it all went so fast. Just a month ago you were still in your own apartment, plucking on your guitar, contemplating whether it was all worth it. You had been making music for years now and you had never had your big breakthrough. Though your friends and family told you that it would come and that you were a wonderful singer and your songs were amazing, you had been close to giving up. It was then that James reposted an Instagram video of you singing their song She's not mine and everything blew up. Your Instagram got a boost and the comments wouldn't stop. The Marauders' management hit you up, asked you to record a song with the men and a week later you were a big star.
The experience with the four men in the studio was something you had never done before. You wrote your songs in the safety of your bedroom, where all the failed ones never left. Now you suddenly had been surrounded by four professional artists plus another three songwriters. The song was written in three days, the title Don’t rush assigned to it, and recorded in two. The sixth day was a day for rest, that you had spent at Remus' house with him and Peter. You had gotten to know the men better. You had learned that James had an obvious crush on the manager's assistant, Lily, that Peter lived with his parents because he didn't see the need of buying a house when he was away all the time, that Remus had learned how to play the bass from his grandfather and pictures had shown that that man was the embodiment of rock'n'roll-grandfather, and that it was Sirius who had come up with the idea of starting a band.
The seventh day had been release day. The song came out at midnight and you had anxiously waited at home with your roommate, Tiffany, until it was time. She had been the biggest fan of the song at the first note and when your voice synchronised with Sirius' she had started to cry. She had kept on playing the song, while you got phone calls from your family and friends.
To promote the new song you and the boys had visited radio station after radio station. You had existed on coffee that day; you had promptly fallen asleep in your living room at three in the morning, while Tiffany was still gushing over your song and the fact that you had met The Marauders, and you had to be at the first studio at 6 AM. Coffee had been your saviour.
Interviews were something you had never done before, just like anything you had gone through that week. At the first radio stations, the boys had taken you under their wings, helping you with answers and pushing you in the right direction. Over the day you had learned how to act in interviews and how to laugh away questions, an useful skill you had noted as the interviewers had asked you about your personal life.
You had thought that that would be it. Or at least, that the song would be the end of your collaboration with The Marauders. They had explained to you that they were going on tour just three weeks later and that maybe they would invite you to one of their shows.
Of course you had been a bit sad to see it end there. In just that week you had grown to like those men a lot. You had spent a lot of time with them and your personalities matched. It was easy and fun to hang around with them.
So when the week was over and it had been time for you to get back to your normal life, that you thought would never be the same again, you had spent the first day home with Tiffany, telling her everything about your experience. You had stayed on the couch with her the whole day and fell asleep late at night, relaxing for the first time that week.
However you relaxation had not been long. The next morning you had gotten a call that had turned your life upside down and was the reason why you were at the airport now;
You were going on tour with The Marauders.
‘What took you so long?’ Remus asked, tilling his suitcase on the counter of the check-in desk.
You panted and bowed forward to catch your breath. James patted you on your back and brushed it lightly. ‘I lost my lock.’
‘You lost your lock?’ Remus said and he turned away from the lady behind the desk to see if James was serious.
The lady behind the counter watched the back of Remus’ head impatiently as this one burst into laughter and shook his head. Peter, who had noticed that the lady was looking rather grumpy and might have realised that she wouldn’t get any happier by the fact that there were more suitcases coming, pushed Remus back to the desk.
Meanwhile you had caught your breath and were standing straight up again. You pushed your suitcase behind Remus and stood next to him, waiting for him to finish with checking in his bags. ‘We lost it somewhere on our way and James wanted to get it back.’
‘How good a lock can it be if it fell off?’ Peter asked, raising his eyebrow so high that it disappeared behind his blond hair.
‘It wouldn’t have fallen off, if someone didn’t bump their suitcase into mine!’ James whined and he looked at you.
‘It was not my fault! You suddenly took a turn! What was I supposed to do? Jump over it?’ you asked sarcastically, sending James a smile.
It was your turn to check in and while you smiled at the grumpy lady, you apologised for making such a scene. She just shrugged and said nothing as she continued to weigh your suitcase and then pushed it to the space behind her desk, where the bags disappeared to be loaded into the airport. She handed you your boarding pass and then called for the next one.
- - - - - -
The air in the airplane was cold. You hid your hands in the sleeves of your sweater and wrapped your arms around your body. You were sitting next to the window and you looked outside. The plane had to take off yet, but you already felt the nerves rushing through your body like you always had when you were in plane. Not that it happened that often, but enough to recognise the feeling.
It was still early in the morning. The skies were just turning blue and there was dew on the windowpane. The first rays of sun broke through and the windows of the airport-building reflected the orange light.
You figured that this wouldn’t be the last time that you would be on a plane this early. Another city every day, or every two days, meant that you would be travelling a lot. But something about the cold and humid morning air was refreshing. The promise of another great day rose with the sun.
However, despite the fresh air and the rising sun, you were tired. You hadn’t slept a lot last night; Tiffany had thrown a little bon-voyage party and had invited your friends. Before the party you had had dinner with your parents. Your mother had cried tears of happiness as she had said goodbye and you just had hoped that was because she was happy for you. Your father had made you promise to him that you would be careful around the four men. You had laughed and told him that nothing would happen with them, but you had promised him, since you feared he wouldn’t let you go if you didn’t. The party Tiffany had thrown wasn’t big; just a few friends, but it had lasted till late at night and you had had to be at the airport at four o’clock.
Your sleep schedule was completely messed up and you feared that it wouldn’t go back to normal for a while.
The voice of the pilot sounded through the airplane and you were pulled from your thoughts. His calm voice soothed none of your nerves, instead only made them worse. You clasped the fabric of your sweater in your hands and took a deep breath as you closed your eyes.
‘If you’re scared of flying, we have a problem,’ James’ voice sounded next to you and you opened your eyes at him.
‘I am not scared of flying, don’t worry,’ you said, your voice quivering a bit. ‘I’m just nervous and excited for everything.’
‘I get that,’ James said, nodding his head. ‘I remember our first time going on tour. Remus knew the whole planning by heart and he took every opportunity to tell us it. Peter cried when he had to say goodbye to his parents; they’re very close you know?’
‘I heard,’ you said and James looked surprised at you. ‘He told me when I was at Remus’ a while back.’
‘Oh, right. Anyway, he cried and we did not hesitate to mock him about it. Poor guy had a terrible first day,’ James chuckled and his eyes glistened with mirth, ‘Sirius was nervous too, but he wouldn’t show it. To this day, he still thinks that we didn’t hear him whispering motivating words to himself before the show-’
‘I wasn’t!’
Sirius, who sat in front of you and James, turned around and looked at you through the space between the seats. You giggled and rested your hands on your thighs, not in your sides anymore.
‘You were!’ James cried out, while Sirius shook his head. ‘I clearly remember you telling yourself that you “could do it, because I am good”.’
Sirius opened his mouth and then closed it again. He shot James an angry glare and then turned back around in his seat, starting to talk to Remus. You looked at James and smiled. ‘What about you?’
‘Oh, I was nervous too. But I kept myself together quite well, if I say so myself.’
Remus and Sirius snorted in front of you and turned around in their seats. Their faces, as they looked at James like he had just told a joke, made you chuckle. James made sputtering sounds, but Remus cut him off before he could say anything.
‘He held my hand the entire flight and was so nervous for the first show that he forgot his lyrics in the first song.’
‘Remus!’
You laughed and nudged James playfully. ‘Come on, it’s funny! It could always be worse…’
‘What do you mean?’ James asked and Remus and Sirius looked curious at you. You shrugged and played with the sleeves of your sweater as you answered.
‘When I had my first performance, I threw up right before I had to go on stage. I had to play three songs while smelling like vomit.’
James and Sirius burst out into laughter and Remus shot you an apologetic look. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched James wipe away a tear from the corner of his eye. For a moment you had forgotten about the take-off and when you looked outside you realised that you were already in the sky. The airport was left behind and you watched the city get smaller and smaller with the seconds.
The little scene down on the earth had your attention until the plane flew into the clouds and you could see nothing but white. You turned back to James, who was watching a film on the little screen installed in the chair in front of him. He mouthed along the words of the protagonist as this one spoke.
You fished your earbuds out of your pocket and put on your music as you turned back to look outside. You pulled your knees up to your chest and closed your eyes for a second as the melody took over you.
Music always had a way to make you feel all the emotions at once. For you it wasn’t just a way to pass time, it was something so much bigger than that. Ever since you were young you had been singing. You had driven your parents crazy, though deep down they were happy to see you passionate about something at such a young age. Any music you could get your hands to, you would listen to. Your mother had dozens of records and you always asked her to play them. Often your brother had complained because he wanted to listen to different music than you. But with your angel eyes you could always win your parents for you.
Guitar lessons had seemed like the most logical thing for you. You had enjoyed learning the chords and soon you could play guitar better than your father, who had been trying to learn how to play for years then. At twelve you had started to write your own songs. Back then they were simple songs with simple lyrics about that one boy crush you had had. As you matured, so did your songs with you. More often they were about the things you felt and the darker periods in your life. Many times your mother had said that you had gift to turn emotions into words.
At the age of sixteen you had recorded your first cover. You had posted it on your Instagram account and then the anxious waiting had begun. A week it had been before someone had commented saying that you had a great voice and that they wouldn’t be surprised to hear more of you. You had been euphoric. After a month you had ten comments, all good ones. The second video you posted was a cover of a song of The Marauders; Lies are fine. It was, at the time, your favourite song of them and to this day the song held a special place in your heart. Again you got some good comments, but for the first time in your life, you had read that someone didn’t like your voice. Now you were quite good at handling hate, but back then it had been enough to break you down. For a month you hadn’t sung and your friends had to show you all the good reactions for you to realise that it was just one opinion.
Ever since you had started to sing your own songs, you had felt liberated in a way. It was easier to sing your own words than someone else’s. The hate had gone on, of course it had, but you had built a wall in front of it. Only a few times something had broken the wall down and then it was patched up quickly again.
You had grown strong over the years and music had formed your life.
- - - - - -
The first place was New York. Management had wanted to start the tour with a big show. Two nights the band would perform at Madison Square Garden. The venue had been booked full both nights. There was not a single place left.
There was one day to install yourself in the city and to get used to the big stadium. You arrived in the city just as it was waking up. Cars were already driving like maniacs over the busy streets and you feared for your life as you looked out of the window of the van you were sitting in. Cars drove by fast and close. The so typical yellow cabs were the worst; driving almost straight into the sidewalk to stop for people and then racing away as soon as the passenger had taken their seat.
The driver of your van wasn’t much different either. He took sharp corners and only stopped abruptly for red lights. With ever turn he took you were pushed out of your seat, one time against the window, the other time against Sirius, who was sitting next to you.
As the driver took another turn, you shifted so you were practically in Sirius’ lap. You placed your hand on his leg not to fall over and his hands caught you.
‘Watch out, darling,’ he smirked when you pushed yourself back to your seat.
‘It’s not my fault that guy drives like he’s got a death wish,’ you grumbled and pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands. Sirius laughed and shook his head as he watched you shoot an angry glare at the driver’s head.
‘So got any plans for today?’ you asked, turning your gaze away from the man and looking at Sirius. ‘Other than checking out the venue?’
‘Not really,’ Sirius shrugged. ‘Why, do you got plans?’
‘My plan is to drop dead on my bed and sleep for the rest of the day,’ you said. ‘Care to join me?’
‘I don’t think there would be much sleeping when I’m in bed with you,’ Sirius smirked. ‘There’s no way you can resist me.’
You laughed and shook your head. ‘I don’t know, I seem to be doing fine now.’
‘That’s only what you think, darling. Deep down you’re burning with desire.’
‘Huh, so it seems…’
It was like this with all Sirius’ jokes around you. The flirtatious tone, winks, nicknames. You knew he was only kidding, but still the jokes made you get hot on the inside and a little flustered. You tried to comment back on him, but that didn’t work all times.
The van stopped at the hotel and the driver, much to your surprise, as you had thought that he would drive off the second you stepped out of the vehicle, took your suitcases from the back of the car.
Together with the boys you stepped into the luxurious hotel. The floors were white marble stones and on the ceilings hung golden chandeliers with crystals that sparkled in the sunlight that came through the big window at the front of the building.
It was a surprise to you how the hotel wasn’t loaded with fans yet. From what you had always heard, fans would find out where artist were staying before even they knew. But there was no one on the streets and not one of the people in the lobby looked up when your group walked in.
Your footsteps echoed in the silent hall. You felt utterly underdressed in your sweater and black jeans as you looked around you and saw women in neat dresses and men in suits. You tried to fix your hair, which you feared was peeking out on all sides. Your fingers untangled a tiny knot while you listened to the manager talk to the receptionist.
‘Alright, your rooms are on the fifth floor. Two to six. Tonight we’ll go to the venue but I’ll text you the details,’ the manager said and handed you, Sirius, Peter, James and Remus a room key.
Your room was number six, on the corner of the building so you had windows on two sides. It was by far the most luxe hotel room you had ever stayed in and you were a little disappointed you would only stay here for three days. Though it wasn’t a massive room –it only existed of a bathroom and a bedroom with a small corner where a big chair stood –it looked like everything, from the rug on the floor to the paintings on the walls, was more expensive than your apartment.
You opened the curtains in front of the windows that lead to your balcony, that was connected to the balconies of the others, and the light washed over the room. It was only ten in the morning, but sleep took over you as soon as your head hit the pillow. You didn’t even change; all you had done was take off your shoes.
- - - - - -
Anxiously you sat in the dressing room, staring at yourself in the big mirror that covered one side of the wall above the dressing tables. The round, yellow light bulbs that surrounded the mirror were reflected in your eyes.
You were nervous. More nervous than you thought you would be. The silence in the room only added to your anxiety. The boys had been called away for a moment, to take a last view of the stage before the stadium filled with fans.
Your phone lied open on the sofa next to you. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone through Twitter, but you just couldn’t resist. There were a lot of people wishing you good luck, but you also saw some tweets saying that taking you with The Marauders on tour was the worse decision they had ever made. Doubts had started to play in your head and now it was all you could think about in that silent room.
Luckily the silence was broken when your phone started to ring. Scaring up from the sound you almost fell of the couch as you looked around the room to see what it was. Quickly you noticed your phone and a feeling of relieve washed over you as you read your roommates name on the screen.
‘Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU AT THE VENUE YET? ARE THEY THERE?!’ Tiffany yelled through the phone before you could even say hi to her.
‘Nice to talk to you too, Tif,’ you laughed. ‘I am at the venue actually. The show’s in two hours.’
‘I know, I wanted to talk to you before all the madness begins. How are you holding up?’
‘Nervous. What if I mess up? What if I forget the lyrics? What if I do something embarrassing on stage? There are so many people who will see it.’
‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ Tiffany said. ‘You have had performances before and the guys wouldn’t have asked you if they didn’t think you were any good.’
You sighed and smiled to your phone, though Tiffany couldn’t see it. You asked about home and while Tiffany started to tell you about your friends, you heard some noises coming from the hall. Not two seconds later, the door of the dressing room burst open and a laughing James and Sirius entered, followed by Peter and Remus, who had a smile on their face, but weren’t as much laughing as their two friends.
You took one glance at them and then turned back to your phone, catching Tiffany’s last words. ‘…so now I have to visit her parents, while she is away with Jason. Can you believe it?’
‘What can I say, I always thought she was weird,’ you answered and only now the boys seemed to notice you were on the phone. They silenced and watched you as you awkwardly continued to talk to Tiffany. ‘Just be careful around her, okay? I don’t want to see you all caught up in her things, when she is out having fun. You’re better than that.’
‘I know,’ Tiffany sighed and then there was a silence. ‘Well, call me tomorrow, okay? I want to hear everything!’
‘I will. Goodbye, I love you,’ you said and put down your phone after Tiffany had said her goodbyes too.
The four men were looking at you expectantly, but you ignored their looks and walked to the corner of the room, where a little fridge stood, to grab a bottle of water. You felt their eyes pricking in your back and when you turned around you were met with four staring gazes. You suppressed a smile and sat back down on the couch, next to Sirius.
‘So, everything settled for later?’ you asked, taking a sip from your water.
You met Remus’ eye and he noticed you were teasing them. Everything about their faces told you that they wanted to know who you just told ‘I love you’ to, but you wouldn’t give in so easily. Remus shot you a smile and then started to talk about the stage, taking the other three’s attention of the cause for a while.
It was only an hour later, as James, Peter and Remus were out checking their instruments, the subject of your phone call came back. You were walking up and down in the room and Sirius was lying on the couch, his eyes focused on his phone. You were softly rehearsing your text one more time, as the nerves were making their way up to your throat now. You feared that if you didn’t find a way to calm down soon, you would not even be able to sing.
‘Who was that on the phone?’ Sirius asked out of nowhere, startling you in your walking.
‘Why?’ you asked, tilting your head to the side.
‘Just curious who the subject of your love interest is.’
‘Don’t be jealous, you know you’re the only one,’ you smirked and grabbed an empty water bottle. Your fingers played with the label on it for a few seconds and then you threw it away.
‘No boyfriend then?’ Sirius asked and you stared at him for a minute before you shook your head. ‘Come sit,’ Sirius ordered while he pushed himself up from the couch and patted the empty space next to him. Hesitantly you sat down next to him. ‘I won’t bite,’ Sirius laughed. ‘Unless you’re into that of course.’
You blushed and shook your head, not able to keep the scoff inside your mouth. Staring at your hands you took a deep breath. Sirius’ gaze was focused on the side of your face and when you breathed out he placed a hand on your back, rubbing it lightly. You felt butterflies fly up in your stomach and you closed your eyes for a second.
‘You don’t have to be nervous, darling. You have a beautiful voice, you fit really well with the group and not to mention you’re gorgeous,’ Sirius said and his hand kept still on your back. The blood rushed to your cheeks and you smiled, looking up to Sirius as you opened your eyes again.
‘Thank you,’ you whispered.
‘And if that doesn’t help, you can always imagine everyone naked. That helps in all situations,’ Sirius added with a wink, his eyes gliding over your body for a second.
‘I’m going to strangle you,’ you said with a laugh, pushing Sirius away from you.
‘Is that a threat or a promise? Stop confusing me,’ Sirius said, his smirk evident on his face. You got up from the couch and walked to the door, swaying your hips exaggerated and throwing your hair over your shoulder as you looked back at him. His eyes were focused on your bum and you smirked as you stepped through the door.
‘Whatever you want it to be, dear,’ you said before disappearing and your smile grew at hearing Sirius sigh as his body hit the cushions of the couch.
- - - - - -
The crowd was cheering and yelling as The Marauders played a song from their newest album, Disaster. You mouthed along the words while you stood backstage, watching the band play from the side. They performed with such a passion and love for their music that you couldn’t but smile. You had seen their performances countless of times online and you had been at a show once, but that was four years ago. In those four years they had grown from teenage boys to men. Their style had matured with them, but still their music had something that had been there from the start; passion.
‘You’re up next,’ the stage manager told you and pushed you to the stairs that lead to the stage. You wrapped your hands around your waist and took in a deep breath. Someone pushed a microphone in your hand and pushed you even closer to the stairs, so you were almost standing on them now.
‘Our next song is one we’re particularly proud of,’ Remus said and from your place you could see James trying to calm the crowd down a little. ‘It’s something we have worked hard and specially fast on.’
The crowd eased a little and you felt your heart beating in your chest. This was it; the moment you had been waiting for ever since you started writing music. A big stadium filled with people who wanted to listen to your song.
‘Please welcome to the stage the lovely Y/N!’
With fierce steps you climbed the stairs. The view that came to your sight as you took your place next to Sirius was something that you already knew nothing in your life could top. Thousands of people cheered, yelled and screamed your name. There were lights from phones and cameras everywhere and you were blinded as a spotlight was placed on you.
Anxiously you turned to Sirius, who was standing next to you and he gave you a smile and a wink. You relaxed and even dared to smile at the crowd in front of you. You could hear the screaming of hundreds of girls somewhere in the section closest to the stage and you chuckled lightly, remembering what it was like to stand there and be so close to your favourite band.
‘You ready?’ Sirius mouthed at you and when you nodded he looked at Peter over his head, who started to tick his drumsticks to the beat of the song. The bass joined in and you forgot about the crowd as the tunes of the song you had worked so hard on the past month filled the stadium.
‘Don’t you think about me tonight
I’ll still be there in the morning
In the sunrise we’ll reunite
Our heads empty and dark inside’
Every last nerve that you had disappeared as the first words left your mouth. At the first verse, the crowd was totally silent, never having heard you live before. But when you sang the last word of the verse, they burst loose and the screaming filled your arms, likely to be remembered for a lifetime.
As you looked at the people in front of you, you realised why singers loved touring so much. The adrenalin that filled your body before now had turned into excitement and utter happiness as you heard all the people sing along with you. The words left your mouth without thinking and you interacted with Sirius as if you had been doing so your entire life. His grey eyes were what you were focused mostly on as you sang the words of the chorus together, your voices synchronising in a way no one had ever heard before.
‘Don’t rush
I will wait for you
Take time
Leave your love behind’
You smiled at Sirius and he smiled back at you, the first honest and happy smile you had gotten from him and you were enchanted. All his smiles had been smirks and sarcastic grins till now, but this was a sight that was just as impressing as everything that was happening around you. And as Sirius took over and his smile disappeared as he sang further, you realised that you would anything to just see that smile again.
‘So just take your time
Cause I’ll wait for you’
The last notes sounded through the stadium. Sirius took you in his arms and lifted you off the ground as he spun you around. You laughed relieved and excitedly and pressed a kiss on Sirius’ cheek when he put you back down again. The audience screamed like it was the end of their life and you felt like crying, so happy.
- - - - - -
The sunlight was shining through the curtains in front of the windows. It was still early in the morning. Early meaning 6.30 AM.
The alarm on your phone woke you from your sleep. Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes and searched with your hand for the phone on your nightstand. Your hand passed various objects before it found the phone. With a sigh you turned off the alarm and plummeted back in your pillow.
The high of last night still hadn’t fully disappeared and when you thought about it, you still got butterflies in your stomach. It was surreal to you to see the thousands of people in that concert hall, all singing along to a song that you had helped writing, that you were singing.
And maybe the high would have stayed all day, if you didn’t have to get up so early in the morning. But you would not complain. You were on tour with a world famous band. This was your dream and if that meant getting little sleep and early mornings, then so be it.
An interview had been planned for eight o’clock, but you had to be there at least twenty minutes earlier. Another sigh escaped your mouth as you got up from your bed and stumbled to the bathroom.
Surprisingly, you didn’t even look so bad for so little sleep. The bags under your eyes were not even that dark and though your hair was a big mess, you looked like you had at least a six hour sleep. Which you hadn’t.
After the show, the boys and you had had a little party with the crew to celebrate the first show. It had been fun to learn everyone better. You had talked to Lily, the manager’s assistant and the girl James had a crush on. She was really nice to you and you hit it off well. You laughed with her at James’ lame attempts to ask her out, what made James a little annoyed as he was sitting close to you and listening to your conversation.
The hot water of your shower relaxed your muscles. You let the warm water stream over your face, the drops rolling over your cheeks and nose. You washed your hair and when you breathed in the scent of your shampoo that was spreading in steam through the whole bathroom, you were in a different world for a moment.
You were so deeply concentrated that you didn’t hear someone entering your room, until the person knocked on your door and you were startled from your daydream.
‘Who’s there?’ you asked loudly, making your voice clear over the running water.
‘Sirius,’ the answer was.
‘Hold on a minute!’ you yelled and finished your shower.
As the water was turned off a silence filled the bathroom. You reached for your towel and dried your body as quickly as you could. You turned around to take your clothes and then you realised that you had left them in the bedroom, since you had not expected any company so early in the morning.
Cursing under your breath you wrapped the towel around your body and brushed your hair so it looked at least a little presentable. You unlocked the bathroom door and barefooted you walked to your bed, where Sirius was sitting, playing with the remote of the television.
You tried to ignore the blush on your face as you made your way over to your suitcase and took your clothes out of it, your back to Sirius. You could feel his gaze on your body as you bowed forward to grab a shirt.
‘What’s up?’ you asked, killing the awkward silence.
‘I was wondering if you were awake yet,’ Sirius answered and he quickly averted his eyes when you turned back around.
‘I was,’ you said and you smiled at Sirius. You walked back to the bathroom to get dressed, but let the door open so you could talk to Sirius.
‘So how’d you sleep?’ Sirius asked, his voice echoing on the tiles of the room you were in.
‘Fine, little, but good,’ you mumbled.
You informed after Sirius’ sleep and after that a silence fell over the two of you. You were doing your make-up in the mirror, not having your shirt on yet in case you’d drop your mascara, which unfortunately happened more often than you liked, while you listened to the news anchor talking about a robbery in a local supermarket.
The silence was broken by your phone that had started to ring. Your hand flinched at the sudden sound and the brush of your mascara shot up against your skin, making a big black stain below your eyebrow. You quickly grabbed a towel and cleaned the black make-up from your face as the phone kept on ringing.
‘It’s yours…’ Sirius said from the bedroom.
‘Gimme,’ you muttered, lowering the towel from your head. You left the bathroom and walked to where Sirius was sitting with your phone in his hand. Immediately you recognised Tiffany’s picture on the screen and you smiled to yourself. You took the phone from Sirius and raised your eyebrow at him as he was staring at you. It was only then you realised that you were wearing nothing but a bra and pants. You scoffed and pushed Sirius back on the bed, making him flash his smirk at you. You rolled your eyes and answered your phone.
‘Y/N, YOU’RE ALL OVER THE INTERNET!’ Tiffany screamed through the phone. ‘HAVE YOU SEEN IT YET? I’M SURE YOU HAVE! YOU NEED TO TELL ME EVERYTHING!’
You chuckled at your friend’s enthusiastic voice, that was so loud Sirius probably had heard it too. ‘Tiff, Tiff, relax please,’ you eased her. ‘Listen, I have to get ready, so I’ll give you to Sirius for five minutes, alright?’
‘y/n, don’t you dare-’ Tiffany started, but you had already given the phone to Sirius, who had his mouth open when he got the phone from you. You gave him a smile and disappeared in the bathroom again.
Continuing with your make-up, you listened to Sirius talking to Tiffany, who was probably going to kill you when you got back home. You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Sirius laughed a few times and by his words the conversation seemed to flow quite easily.
Once you were totally dressed, you got back to the bed and sat down next to Sirius who quickly gave your phone back.
‘Love, it’s me again,’ you said and Tiffany sighed relieved.
‘y/n, I swear, the next time I see you…’
You laughed, while you put on your shoes. Catching Tiffany up with what had happened last night, you walked with Sirius to breakfast.
‘Your friend’s a handful,’ Sirius said after you had hung up on Tiffany.
‘She is, but she’s wonderful and has been nothing but supportive ever since I met her. I couldn’t wish for a better friend,’ you said as you stepped into the hall where they served breakfast. You sat down next to James, who was already sitting there with Remus.
Sirius sat down next to you and poured you coffee from the can that stood on the table. ‘I’ve got to say, I am a little disappointed you decided to put on a shirt, darling,’ Sirius grinned and next to you James choked on his orange juice.
‘Excuse me?’ he coughed.
You patted him on his back and shook your head. ‘Nothing, Sirius just can’t get the picture of me in my bra out of his head.’
‘I don’t think anyone ever could, dear.’
‘Sirius, please,’ Remus said. ‘It’s breakfast. Save your jokes for later.’
‘And how is it a joke, Rem?’ Sirius asked looking at his friend over his cup.
- - - - - -
‘Welcome back to Sirius XM, where we are currently joined by no one less than The Marauders and y/n, who is joining the band on their tour! Their new song Don’t rush, is out since a month and last night was the first show, kicking off The Marauders’ world tour. We have all five of them in our studio!’
The two radio hosts, whom you had learned were Raj and Marshall, sat on the other side of the table. You sat on the far left with Remus next to you. Since the studio wasn’t exactly built for five guests, you and Remus had to share a microphone, just as Sirius and James had to. The only difference was that you and Remus were both mature enough to let each other talk, while Sirius and James kept pushing the mic in the other’s nose.
‘Peter, starting with you. Are you excited for this tour? Any cities you are looking forward to visit?’ Marshall asked.
‘I am really excited for tour, yes. This album is something we worked really hard on and I think I speak for all of us when I say that this might be the best we have written so far,’ Peter answered, a smile spreading on his face as he talked about the album. ‘That being said, I am looking forward to every city we will visit. Every show is special and every crowd is awesome.’
‘Remus, Peter says this album is your best yet. Care to weigh in?’
‘I agree with Pete. We poured our heart and soul into this album and I really love how it turned out in the end. This music is different than our previous albums, but I think that doesn’t make it any less better. These songs are more about ourselves, about our insecurities and fears, but also about our happy moments.’
‘It’s our up and downs,’ James chimed in and Remus nodded.
‘Yes. And I think that is the beauty of it. It has something that everyone recognises. Nobody’s life is perfect and nobody lives on “ups” alone. We wanted to create something that shows that’s it’s okay to feel down or scared. It is okay to be insecure, because everyone is,’ Remus said and the other three boys nodded.
‘y/n,’ Raj said. ‘As a listener of the album, someone who didn’t know the thought behind the album, did you feel the same way when you listened to it?’
‘I did,’ you answered. ‘I first listened to the album alone at midnight, when it was released, and I am not ashamed to say that it definitely brought me to tears. I really think the guys got the message across.’
Remus nudged you thankfully and you smiled at him, as Raj asked Sirius and James about a particular song. You listened with interest and smiled at the passion that the men had as they talked about their music.
‘And then y/n came into the picture, working with you on Don’t rush, which is a banger by the way. y/n, how was it working with the band?’ Raj asked.
‘It was all very new to me. I am used to writing songs on my own and now there were suddenly a lot of people around me. But it was an experience I will never forget.’
‘Did you have a lot of influence on the song?’
‘I think we all equally contributed to the song. The meaning behind it is definitely one that I recognise. We all tend to rush into the things that seem exciting and in doing so we often forget the way we get there. It is important to take your time and I think the song described that perfectly.’
‘James, how was working with her? What was she like?’
‘She was such a good person, not like us,’ James grinned and Sirius sniffed. ‘It was refreshing to work with y/n. She took us all back to that feeling we had when we first started writing songs. I think in a way she has improved us all, because she made us stand still and look at how much we have accomplished already. Sometimes you forget to look at that when your life is so busy. I am forever thankful for the friendship I have built with her.’
‘You’re gonna make me cry here, James,’ you said and wiped away a tear from your eyes. Remus put his arm around you and placed a kiss on the side of your head, while the others chuckled at you.
‘Sirius and y/n, we have to talk about your performance last night,’ Marshall said and he looked at you and Sirius. ‘I assume you have seen the way social media exploded after last night’s show?’
You nodded and chuckled as you thought back of the reaction of your friends and family. Your brother had sent you a video of your parents watching your performance for the first time and their reaction warmed your heart. Your mother was jumping around and had waved her arms through the air and your father had stood watching the video with tears on his face.
‘Fans have been speculating all around and I hope I am not crossing any boundaries here, but I do have to ask,’ Raj said and he leaned forward over the desk. ‘Are you two together?’
A silence fell over the studio as you looked at Sirius. He smirked at you and you smiled as you shook your head. ‘No, were not,’ you said and Raj frowned.
‘Really? You seemed to have quite some chemistry on the stage.’
‘The art of music,’ Sirius shrugged. ‘It can make anyone believe anything.’
- - - - - -
At the next show you were more relaxed. Now the nervousness of the first show was gone, you had found that you quite enjoyed the adrenalin that was rushing through your veins right before you went on stage. And even better was the joy that filled you when you stood on the stage.
Singing the song with Sirius had something magical to it. It wasn’t just the crowds that screamed the lyrics along or the music that reached to your bones. No, the best part was the smile that Sirius wore when he looked at you. For a moment you forgot everything around you when Sirius flashed you that smile.
The band played show after show and travelled all through North America. The cities you passed were all greater than the other. You went to places you had always wanted to visit and met new people.
The other thing that was just as fun as singing on a big stage every night, was meeting all the fans. And not even The Marauders’ fans; you had even met people that were fan of just you. People asking for pictures with you, for your autograph, anything. It was a new experience for you, but you adored every one of them. It had thrown you off at first when someone told you that you had saved their life, but the band had taken you under their wings and had explained how to deal with such situations.
You were beyond thankful to have those four guys around you. You had learned so much from them and you knew that you would have never made it if it wasn’t for their help.
In the time you spent with the boys, preparing before the show, talking after, the interviews, sleeping on the tour bus together, you really got to know them. You learned so much about them in such a little time and you were sure that even after the tour you would stay friends with them. You teased each other continuously , but where the teases with Remus, James and Peter were all innocent, with Sirius there was always another layer to them. Always a smirk or a wink. Not that you minded; you liked the little jokes and innuendos.
And if you were completely frank with yourself, you just liked Sirius.
- - - - - -
It was long dark as you lied in the uncomfortable bed of the tour bus. You were glad to at least have a bed and not have to sleep on a couch or something, but you had to admit that sleeping was very hard on those things.
You stared at the empty ceiling that was way too close to your face for your liking and thought of what you had read earlier.
You had been warned before not to believe the things people on social media said, but that was easier said than done. How could you not let those hateful words get to you?
Though you had dealt with hate comments more, these had been worse than ever before. There were people saying that you couldn’t sing and that you were ugly and fat, but that was nothing new. The things that hurt you the most were the people that said you were just on tour with the guys because you were an easy lay. Someone even said that you were just there to help them blow off some steam.
A tear escaped your eye and rolled over your face to fall on your pillow. You sighed sadly and got up. You jerked away the curtains before your bed and stepped out of it, bumping your head in the process. You cursed something under your breath as you walked to the back of the bus, where there was place to sit.
‘Who hurt you?’ Sirius chuckled as you sat down sighing.
He was lying on the couch in his grey sweatpants and an old T-shirt with his headphones in. He had a smile on his mouth, but that changed when he saw how you were looking. He took of his headphones and threw his phone to the side.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked genuinely.
‘It’s nothing,’ you muttered, playing with the edge of your sweater sleeves. ‘Just stupid people that suggest I’m a slut.’
‘What?’ Sirius asked and he moved closer to you.
You took out your phone and showed him the tweets. Sirius cursed out loud when he read them and he threw your phone behind you on the couch. He took your hands and forced you to look at him.
‘Listen to me,’ he said, his voice low. ‘You are not a slut, okay? You are the most incredible woman I have ever met. You are magnificent, lovely, beautiful, intelligent, witty and you have the most beautiful voice. My dear, if I couldn’t hold you in my arms, I would believe you are an angel.’
You smiled through your tears and wrapped your arms around Sirius’ neck.
‘They are just pity, little, jealous people that have nothing better to do in their lives. I wish I could protect you from them, but there will be more. Will you just promise me one thing?’ Sirius asked and you pulled away from him. ‘Never listen to them. Never doubt yourself. If you weren’t a good singer I wouldn’t have asked for you to come to tour with us.’
‘You asked for that?’ you said surprised.
‘Uh, yeah,’ Sirius said and he suddenly became a little awkward. ‘I had such fun writing with you, and the guys too, and I could not stop working together with you after just one song. So I asked out manager if you could tour with us.’
You smiled thankfully at Sirius and pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘Thank you, Sirius. And I promise. If I’m good enough for Sirius Black to come to tour with him, I am good enough to not believe those haters.’
‘You’ll always be good enough for me, darling,’ Sirius said with a wink and he got his usual cocky smile back. ‘Even better, if I say so.’
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you leant in to his chest. His cold fingers rested on your forearm and you felt a sparkle rushing through your body. You tried to ignore the little butterflies in your stomach, but the longer you sat with Sirius, the bigger they became.
‘I like having you here,’ Sirius said, his deep voice reaching to your bones.
‘You do?’
‘Yeah, you’re a refreshment from James’ lame jokes, Remus’ boring facts and whatever Peter tells. He’s not a great storyteller, that man.’
‘Well, I like being here,’ you said, turning a little so you could look at Sirius. His arms lowered and his hand rested on your hip as you leaned with your elbow on the back of the couch. You draped your legs over Sirius’ lap and played with his curls as you talked. ‘I do miss my family and friends though. Talking on the phone and face timing is not the same as actually being with them.’
‘I know, I hear the guys complain about that too.’
‘You not?’
‘No, I don’t talk to my family anymore.’
‘Oh,’ was all you said and you stopped twirling his black curls around your finger as you looked at him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’
‘It’s alright,’ Sirius smiled at you. ‘I left home when I was seventeen, moved in with James, lived there for a while before I got my own place. I got the perfect tragic background for an artist.’
You chuckled sadly and reached for Sirius’ hair again. There was a silence that stretched out through the whole bus. You stared at the black hair in your hands while you tried to ignore Sirius’ gaze on you.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ you whispered as if breaking the silence was a crime. Sirius nodded and rested his head back into your hand. He closed his eyes as your nails scratched his skin. It was something you used to see your mother do to your father when he was upset and you did it to your brother when you were younger.
‘I should go back to bed,’ you said after a while and made effort to get off the couch.
‘Or you could stay here,’ Sirius said as he pulled you back against his chest, making you fall on top of him on the sofa. ‘Those beds suck. I am far more comfortable.’
The couch was deep enough for two people to lie next to each other and you settled close to Sirius, his chest against yours.
‘Well, I can’t disagree with that,’ you grinned as you buried your neck in his chest.
Sirius placed his arm over your waist and pulled you closer to him. You listened to his heartbeat and you quickly found yourself dozing off.
‘Goodnight, love,’ Sirius whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head.
‘Goodnight, Sirius.’
- - - - - -
One benefit of touring with a band was that there was always someone around. If you wanted to play a game you could go to James, if you wanted to have a conversation you could go to Remus, for fun stories Peter was available and Sirius was always there if you needed a cuddle.
You appreciated the company but you were also glad if you had some time alone. And though that was hard as you woke up in a bus with the men, rehearsed, spent free time with them, then played a show with them and after that hung out with them until you fell asleep in the same bus, only for the cycle to start again the next day, there were some moments that you were alone. Like when you got coffee in the morning for everyone, while the boys were still asleep. Or if they decided to practice on the stage longer and you could sneak off to the back of the bus with a book. Those were little moments of peace that you found yourself enjoying more and more as the tour continued.
However, you were immensely grateful for all the fun moments you had with the band. You were basically living your lifelong dream right now and you’d be an idiot if you didn’t realise that. You got to see what it was like to have fans all around the world, to have people come up to you and ask for a photo, to be recognised in the streets. At first it had been a bit weird to you, but over the time you had learned how to handle such situations and how to say ‘no’.
Maybe that was the hardest part. Saying no. You knew that you had to set boundaries between personal and public life, but if someone came up to you, you were quick to take a photo with them or to talk to them. The guys taught you that it was important for yourself to sometimes just say no. Your fans had to respects your boundaries and if they didn’t then they couldn’t be called your fans.
- - - - - -
‘Ready for tonight?’ Peter asked as he sat down next to you and handed you a cup of tea.
‘Thank you. Yeah, I think I am. My family’s coming over, so I’m really excited,’ you answered.
This night, Tiffany, your brother and your parents were coming over to see your show. You had been talking to Tiffany over the phone for the past time and she was super enthusiastic to see the show. You had gotten them backstage-passes so they could see you before the show.
‘Are we gonna meet them?’ James asked, taking place on your other side.
‘Oh, you’re not going to get out of that,’ you chuckled. ‘Tiff is asking about you guys all the time.’
‘Tiff, eh? And what’s she like?’ Sirius asked as he pushed Peter aside to sit next to you. ‘Anything we might enjoy?’
There it was, that cheeky wink that made your stomach turn upside down. Combined with the smirk that seemed to be glued to his face.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ you said. ‘She’s pretty fond of Remus.’
You grinned back at him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt your butterflies in your stomach. The blood rushed to your cheeks and you tried to play it cool by starting a conversation with Remus and James.
Sirius was listening to your conversation while his fingers drummed on your upper arm. He hummed a song and you felt the bass of his voice thrumming in your chest. He brought his head closer casually and his voice was closer to your ear. Subconsciously you placed your hand on his thigh and his humming stopped. He twisted his head to you and you looked up from your conversation with the others.
‘What?’ you asked when you saw Sirius was raising his eyebrow at you.
His eyes shifted to your hand and then back to your face. ‘Enjoying yourself?’
You gave his thigh a little squeeze and smiled. ‘Very much.’
He opened his mouth to say something but nothing left his mouth. A smirk formed on your face when you turned back to your conversation. James cocked his eyebrow at Sirius and you heard the latter sniff next to you.
The ringing of your phone caught your attention. You jumped up from the couch, Sirius’ hand falling off your shoulder and sliding along the curve of your body, and you reached for your phone on the other side of the dressing room.
Tiffany’s voice was yelling through the room as you answered your phone, telling you that she and your family had landed and were on the way to their hotel. ‘It’s so great here, honey! I can’t wait to see you! I am so- What do you want?! Och, just leave me alone for a second!’
You laughed at Tiffany’s angry words as you heard your brother’s voice in the back. You knew she had always had a thing for him. Every time he came over she always made sure she was at her best. You had teased her endlessly about it. She made dinner for him countless times and always gave him a little more than the other guests. She was always stealing glances at him and sitting next to him, their legs pressed together.
But you didn’t think your brother minded. He liked her just as much if not more. And you teased him with it too. But he was reluctant of his feelings. Though he seemed to flirt with Tiffany now, from what you could hear.
Lily, the assistant, knocked on the door and when it opened revealed her head. She, when she noticed you were on the phone, whispered something to the men on the other side of the room. Tiffany was still talking to you about how much she liked wherever she was right now and you let her ramble on, turning to the guys to ask what Lily said.
‘We have to leave in five minutes,’ Remus mumbled.
‘Tiff, I have to go, honey,’ you said, cutting off Tiffany’s speech. ‘Okay? I’ll talk to you later. Love you.’
- - - - - -
The crowd was making a lot of noise as they filled the hall. You stood backstage in the hallway of the dressing room, but you could still hear them. You could feel the nerves slowly rising in your body. This wouldn’t be a night any different from the other nights the past month, but yet you felt more nervous than normal.
Anxiously you paced up and down in front of the door of the dressing room, waiting for your family and Tiffany to arrive. Your brother had sent you a text, saying that they were at the venue but after that you hadn’t heard from him.
Maybe that was why you were nervous. You had never played for such a big crowd with your family there. They had been at many of your little shows, but never one this big. You knew they were proud of you and that they would like it, but you couldn’t stop the nerves.
‘Darling, calm down. What are you so nervous for?’ asked Sirius as he left the dressing room and found you walking up and down.
He lifted his arms and you buried your face in his chest, as he wrapped his hands around your waist. ‘I don’t know,’ you mumbled, hugging more tightly onto Sirius.
‘You’re a great singer, your family will love you, the fans love you, the band loves you,’ Sirius’ voice got to a whisper, ‘I love you.’
Maybe he thought that the crowds were so loud that you wouldn’t hear it. Maybe he thought that if he whispered you wouldn’t hear. Or maybe he wanted you to hear. You didn’t know what he thought, but you knew one thing.
You heard.
Your body froze for a second and you lifted your head from Sirius’ chest. You stared at him with big eyes and you were unable to answer. Unable to tell him that you loved him too. Because you loved him too. You had known for a while, but you were too scared to admit it to yourself.
Sirius stared back at you with questioning eyes. A tiny smile formed on your mouth but before you could say anything, you heard footsteps.
You let go of Sirius, your hands lingering on his body and your chest aching for letting him go, and at the same time your parents, brother and Tiffany came around the corner. Your friend launched herself at you and you caught her in your arms. She immediately started talking about how much she had missed you, how silent the house was without you and how all your other friends were jealous of you.
Tiffany was still talking while you hugged your brother, who looked at your roommate with a goofy smile. You pinched his cheek and stuck out your tongue at him before you whispered: ‘So are you together yet?’
Your brother immediately averted his eyes from Tiffany and stared at you. He scrunched his eyebrows together at you and hit you playfully on the head. ‘Are you together with Mr. Singer yet?’
Your happy smile disappeared for a second as you were reminded of the moment that was just interrupted. But your grin came back quickly and you laughed at your brother. ‘Hm, I think I have made more progress than you,’ you said mysteriously and you winked before you stepped to your parents.
‘Oh, princess!’ your mother exclaimed and she engulfed you in her tight embrace. ‘Your father and I are so proud of you! We have seen ever video of every show!’
You hugged your father and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. ‘Good job, angel,’ your father said and your eyes watered up as you saw the tears in his.
‘And dare I say, you have quite the chemistry with that long haired man!’ your mother giggled. You looked over your shoulder at Sirius, who was occupied with Tiffany talking to him. He looked as distressed as when he first talked to Tiffany at your first night in New York. He caught your gaze and you waved at him before turning back to your parents. Your mother had a smug smile on her face and your father was looking over your shoulder at Sirius, with furrowed eyebrows.
‘Yes, Sirius has proven to be an absolute gentleman,’ you said, pulling your father from staring at Sirius. ‘You should meet the others too! Everyone is so nice!’
You saved Sirius from Tiffany, who seemed could not stop talking, and pulled your friend with you to the dressing room.
‘You have to tell me everything about you and my brother tonight,’ you whispered at her, while everyone else followed you. ‘And don’t tell me nothing has happened!’ you said when you saw her opening her mouth. ‘I know him and the way he looks at you tells me something has happened!’
Your family meeting The Marauders was as if your two families met. Your father immediately was drawn to Peter, your mother fussed over James, who was quickly saved by your brother and Tiffany sat down next to Remus. You winked at him and then raised your eyebrows at Tiffany and he burst out into laughter.
You sat down on the chair furthest away from everyone and watched the scene happily, though a little embarrassed at the way your family acted. The nerves that you had felt a while ago had gone and you were excited to play the show tonight.
After a while, James sat down next to you, after he was released from your mother’s conversation. He handed you a beer and you greedily accepted it. Maybe inviting your parents and your brother and Tiffany at the same time wasn’t such a good idea after all.
‘Where’s Sirius?’ James asked you.
Sirius hadn’t joined you and your family in the dressing room and you feared you had messed up by not answering to his confession. You wanted to look for him, but you knew all hell would break loose if you left your family alone.
‘I don’t know,’ you said, taking a sip from the bottle. ‘I was talking with him, but we were interrupted by these idiots.’ You gesture at your father who is doing a little weird dance in the middle of the room.
It wasn’t unusual for you to see this side of your parents, but you had hoped they would not show it in front of people whom they had never met. You knew they were crazy, but no one else needed to know.
‘Oh, well,’ James said nonchalant. ‘I am sure he’ll come back soon.’
- - - - - -
But Sirius didn’t. The next time you saw him was long after your family had been brought to their places and right before he was about to go on stage. In the dark you could see his silhouette contrasting with the lights from the stage. He was fumbling the microphone in his hands, as you had learned he only did when he was nervous.
You walked over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder. ‘Hey,’ you said softly. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ he snapped back and you removed your hand from his body.
‘Sorry,’ you mumbled. ‘I know we never got to finish our conversation, but I just-’
‘Twenty seconds!’ the stage manager yelled, interrupting you.
‘I’ll see you there, right?’ Sirius asked, his voice cold and distant. ‘Just… do what you always do.’
Sirius stepped away from you to the stairs and you watched his figure with tears in your eyes as he climbed the stage with the rest of the band. James looked back at you and pointed at Sirius before ticking the side of his head. You chuckled through the tears and blew James a kiss before he disappeared into the bright lights.
Watching the men perform was still so inspiring to you. The passion that they had was something that you hoped to achieve some day yourself. They didn’t just make music, they made magic. You would never get tired of watching it.
‘Now I think it is time we bring out the person who is an immense support to us and who you all love. And if you don’t, well, then just cover your ears or something… Here’s y/n!’ James shouted and the audience screamed as you walked on stage.
You stood next to Sirius and for the first time since the tour started you felt like you were back at the first show again. All the insecurities came back to you in a wave and you felt a little dizzy. You grabbed Sirius’ arm for balance and he looked quickly at you, before averting his eyes again.
You knew that his was the only way to reach him. Through music, through his lyrics. If he didn’t want to talk with you, then fine. But you knew that he would listen to you if you sang to him.
So you sang the song with all the passion and love that you had in your body.
‘Won’t you please just look at me?
And listen to my heart
As I tell you all the stories
To never be apart
If this is what you’re feeling
Then tell me one more time
Will you take my heart along
And leave this all behind?’
Sirius looked at you, like he had done all those nights before, but something in his face was different. You smiled at him and put out your hand for him to take. He looked from your hand to your face and then the biggest smile you had seen all tour appeared on his face as he took your hand in his and squeezed it a little.
‘Don’t rush
I will wait for you
Take time
Leave your love behind’
A tear slid down your cheek as you looked at the big crowd in front of you that was singing along every word that left your mouth. The flashlights of phones waved through the air as in one movement.
‘Love, don’t break my heart again
Just push it to the side
I will still be waiting here
So you just take your time’
Sirius wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You both stopped singing for a minute and listened to the audience as they sang from the top of their longs. Even the band stopped playing and all that could be heard were the thousands of voices from the fans.
Pressing a kiss to the side of your head, Sirius whispered: ‘I love you, darling.’
You looked at him and smiled, while he wiped away the tears on your cheek. ‘I love you too.’
‘So know that I will love you still
Even if you take so long
Leave this place but come back please
For you are everything to me’
The last melodies of the song started and you intertwined your fingers with Sirius’ as you poured all your feelings into the last words.
‘So just take your time
Cause I’ll wait for you’
----------
Taglists
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I Wont Cast You Aside
Pairing: Marinette x Chloe
Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
Word count: 5k (was suppose to be 1k but I wanted a bigger story line)
Note: This is a commission for the wonderful @wombatking I want to thank you for not only commissioning this but trusting me with a pairing I haven’t written for yet. One thing about writing fics for a new pair is the fear of not being able to capture them together. I rewrote this beast so many times and I hope that you enjoy it!
Thank you for being so patient with me and I really hope you like it :) Also yes, the title is a pun, I couldn’t resist.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
There's a rush of adrenaline in her system as she takes off running. She ignores the yell from Ladybug and soon the wind is all she can hear. The streetlights of Paris swirl into a bright blur as she practically flies from rooftop to rooftop. Nothing can stop her as her target is locked in sight and she can feel a victory coming.
For months she's been gaining traction and skill. All she wanted was to prove to Ladybug that her choice shouldn’t turn into a regret. That she was meant to be Queen Bee.
Another jump and she's closing in. She can almost feel the energy of the akuma buzzing within that cursed object. Her eyes narrow and she calls out for her spinning top while activating her venom. It's over now. That's what the blonde tells herself as she sends the weapon spinning through the night and wraps it around the leg of the villain of the day.
Pride. It swells through her as they go down with a thud. They won, a victory that has her name stamped on it and she wants nothing more than to have Ladybug and Chat Noir beside her to finish off the job.
She turns to look for them but all she sees is the stars dancing on the horizon. It's strange and she can feel her stomach twist in a way she doesn’t like.
A dark chuckle comes from the villain below.
“Ladybug?” She whispers to herself and as she turns towards her voice, there's a louder sound that rings through her ears. “Ladybug?” She calls out louder. She doesn’t understand. They were right behind her. She wasn’t that far, they had to have followed her.
“No one is coming.” The villain says.
Queen Bee looks at their eyes but there's nothing there. No sense of emotion can be found and for a second, she wonders if they are alive. It's terrifying and she feels alone. Their laughter turns to an uproar.
“You’re nothing!” They scream as they try to jolt towards her. “You’re a waste of space. A hero with no merit.”
The ground below her starts to sink like quicksand. Her throat goes dry, and she tries to scream but nothing comes out. Pain shoots through her body and she can feel tears streaming down her face as the world above her disappears and she falls into a darkness.
“Ladybug!” She manages to yell but the light above is cut from her view and now she's falling.
Her body is weightless and every fear she's had is echoing around her like a cave of personal torment. A golden flash surrounds her, and she can feel the power drain from her system. Pollen stares at her with lifeless eyes as the comb hovers in her face, taunting her as the gold turns black like ink.
“You were never a queen.” Pollen spats.
It crumbles into dust as her lungs squeeze from the scream leaving her lips.
“Pollen!” Chloe cries but she's nowhere to be found as the dust surrounds her in the dark.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
Chloe wakes with a jolting start.
She looks around to see herself in her room. No plunging darkness or a disappointed Pollen. The voice of Ladybug isn’t calling out to her. She's in her bed safe and sound. Her heart rate is skyrocketing as she tries to catch her breath. She turns to the clock and sees that it's barely four in the morning. The nightmares had been happening more and more. Nights become restless and her body is starting to move to the brink of exhaustion.
That night of her failure plays on a repeat. It's like a broken record. The face of the villain staring at her as she falls, the scream coming from her throat and both Ladybug and Chat Noir’s voices echoing in her ears. No matter how many times she has it, the fear doesn’t leave.
“It's just a nightmare.” She tells herself, but she can see it and feel it so clearly that she isn’t sure if it's just her imagination.
Chloe grabs a tissue from her nightstand and wipes the sweat off her brow. All she wanted was a peaceful night of rest but apparently that's too much to ask for. Her stomach feels like it's turned upside down as she makes her way to the bathroom, moving slower than what she was used to.
Cold water splashes against her face and she stares at the mirror to a face that looks paler than usual. Bags have formed under her eyes and not even her imported skin care can undo the damage of losing sleep. Even the blue of her eyes had seemed to lose their brightness.
“You’re okay.” She whispers with a shaky voice and swallows hard. “You’re okay.”
It's the only thing she can say to herself. The only thing that can calm the storm from within until the nightmare strikes again.
She makes her way back to her bed that feels more like a prison at this point. Bedrest sounded so glamorous at the time but now that she's been stuck here for almost two weeks, she wanted nothing more than to leave. She is afraid to close her eyes. Afraid that when she does, the darkness will form once again.
Suddenly there's a knock on her balcony door, it breaks her from her thoughts. There's hardly any wind tonight and the trees had just been cut so there's no way for the tree to reach the glass. For a moment she wonders if it's another akuma. Maybe she wasn’t awake after all, and her nightmare is continuing. The door gets another knock.
Her eyes narrow towards the door, but the shadow of a figure suggests that the wind wasn’t the culprit. She recognizes the figure instantly.
Her stomach goes into a knot and shame fills her heart. A part of her didn’t want to open it. She’d rather not face the superhero again but knows that's not possible. Instead, she huffs and manages to get over to the door without falling over.
She opens the door to Ladybug who stands in front of her with flowers and a soft smile on her face. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Chloe steps aside and lets the hero pass by. “It's four a.m.”
“I know, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Haven’t gotten the chance to see you.” Ladybug looks down at the cast that adores Chloe’s right leg. Guilt washes over her and when their eyes meet, she knows she was caught staring.
Chloe nods and bites her lip, trying to ignore the look on Ladybug's face. “It's fine, you’re busy.”
“Queen Bee.” Ladybugs starts but Chloe raises her hand to stop her as they sit on the couch for more comfort. She wants to tell Chloe every single apology in the books. Tell her it's her fault she got hurt and to make sure she knows she's going to do anything in her power to help her out.
Instead, Chloe frowns. “Ladybug, don’t.”
“Chloe.” She had brought her a bouquet of bluebells and marigolds, her favorite and she wonders how she knew but also doesn’t question the gift. “I’m so sorry.”
This was a surprise. She looks at the superhero, distress clear on her face. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who got hurt.”
“On my account. If I stayed with you, your foot wouldn’t be broken and don’t try to change my mind on that. I couldn’t reach you in time. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am.”
Chloe holds her tongue but then again, she's not one to keep quiet. “I don’t blame you. It's not your fault nor Chats. I was clumsy and too eager, but I learned my lesson. I’ll be fine, it's a clean break anyways.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I should have protected you better.”
“We all make mistakes, but you aren’t the reason I broke my foot.” She lets out a sigh. “Maybe it's for the best.”
“It's not.” Ladybug frowns and shakes her head. “I just want Queen Bee back by my side. I want you back on our team.”
The blonde looks towards the flowers, a sense of comfort washing over her. “I’m surprised you even want me on your team.” Her voice is low and she's trying not to cry but it hurts too much to think that her time as a superhero is done just because she was reckless and in a cast. An ugly white cast that clashes with every clothing article she owns. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.
A laugh bubbles from Ladybugs lips. “Of course, I still want you! You’ve grown so much over these past few months and sure, it was a rocky start but look at you. You’re a member of this team Chloe. Chat and I can always rely on you in a pinch.” And she means it. Chloe of course doesn’t know her true identity and maybe she doesn’t quite believe her words, but Ladybug does.
She smiles at the blonde who just happens to be her girlfriend in her civilian life and she's trying to keep her guilt at bay. The moment she found out Queen Bee had broken a leg, she blamed herself. Tikki tried to reason with her, begged her to see the bigger picture and that accidents happen. If it was anyone's fault, it was that damned Hawk Moth.
A small weight comes off of Chloe’s shoulder as she relaxes. “Thank you, Ladybug, that means a lot.” Chloe smiles and wipes her eyes. “I promise I’ll get better soon; you can count on that!”
“I know I can.” Ladybug smiles and stands. “I should get going, it's late-or well, early. Take it easy Chloe and if you need anything, just holler.”
Chloe watches as she leaves through the balcony door. She looks at the arrangement of flowers and a small smile forms on her lips. Grabbing her crutches, she manages to get to her bed much easier than before.
Her eyes flutter close and for the first time in a while the nightmare doesn’t greet her.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
It's odd. The limo pulls up to the school and yet she doesn’t want to leave. The moment the word got out that Queen Bee had gotten hurt, and her civilian form was now stuck in a cast, chaos within the press had broken out.
She was used to the flashes of cameras, being the mayor's daughter had some publicity perks, but she didn’t like the limelight on her injury. She wanted to be treated normally. People began to treat her like she was made of glass. She wasn’t. She was fine. Yeah...she was fine.
Even her friends saw her differently. Adrien seemed on edge when visiting her as if he personally caused it. Little did she know the fear he was holding as he handed her flowers and told her that he can rely on her for anything. Sabrina tried her hardest not to overwhelm her with concern, but the redhead had burst into tears when she had seen her best friend being bandaged up.
Flowers had started to pile up in her room that she sent them to decorate the lobby of the hotel and even offered others the chocolate she had been gifted. Even many fan letters addressed to Queen Bee had begun to show up and although she adored the attention, reading them while stuck in bed had begun to feel like she had let everyone down.
All she wanted was for people to say their comforting words and go on with their day. Of course, seeing all of her friends standing on the steps of the school to greet her with smiles was a step in the direction she was aiming for. She knew that all of their hearts were genuine, and she didn’t mind each of them personally visiting her. They cared about her, and she was happy to know that she had people who did.
Over the past few months, she has grown into a better person. She was tired of being seen as the mean popular girl and learned that making friends with compassion and kindness was always the better way. After all she had learned first-hand from her girlfriend.
Out of the crowd Marinette stepped forward. She held out her hand to help Chloe out of the limo and grabbed her bag so she could get onto her crutches.
“Hi.” Marinette said with a smile and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you doing?”
In all honesty, she was exhausted. Tired of this ugly cast, tired of being treated with kid gloves, tired of it all. But the one thing she would never get bored of, was her girlfriend and those beautiful blue eyes that held care and affection.
The blonde forced a small smile onto her lips. “I’m doing alright, but I would feel better if you walked me to class.” She looked towards the rest of their friends and smiled. “Don’t worry these crutches won’t stop me from being fabulous so no need to get worried.”
“Happy to have you back.” Adrien smiled as many heads nodded in agreement.
“Sabrina told me that she has all of your notes in your locker.” Marinette said right as the bell rang.
Chloe huffed. “I forgot that I still have schoolwork. This is ridiculous.”
“Utterly ridiculous?” Marinette giggled just as Chloe’s cheeks flushed.
As they started walking, Chloe took Marinette's hand. “I’m really happy to see you.” She whispered.
“You’ve seen me for the past three days straight.” Marinette responded.
“I know but you make everything so much better, even if you do nothing but just be in the same room as me.”
“Aww Bee.” She blushed. “I like being around you too.”
They reached their classroom just as the bell rang signaling that class was about to start. Marinette dropped off Chloe’s bag and helped her into her seat. “I’ll see you at lunch.” She winked and went to her seat next to Alya.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
Marinette stared at the back of Chloe’s head the entire day. Although she had seen her as Ladybug the night before, it didn’t help the fact that the guilt was stirring around her. Again, and again, she tried to remind herself that it wasn’t her fault. That her girlfriend falling from the rooftop and waking up with a broken leg was just a mishap with an akuma.
It didn’t help though. She could see it in Chloe's eyes. The desperation on her face when she was told that the cast would be there for a few months. Those crutches would become a new normal and she wouldn’t be able to do certain activities with her friends such as swimming just as the sun was coming out. It wasn’t fair and she felt like she let her down not only as a superhero, but as a friend.
There was something off about Chloe as she went through the day. At lunch, people gave her some flowers and offered to sign her cast, but she had declined any signatures. Marinette offered her company on the bench and held out a small box of sugar cookies. “I made these last night for you.”
She could see Chloe’s shoulders instantly relax a little and a small beam of pride was felt as Chloe took the box and thanked her.
“I was wondering if you wanted me to come over tomorrow night. My mom and dad are out for the weekend on a delivery so I would be alone.” Marinette said. “I was thinking of a movie night, and I made some designs for your cast and crutches.”
There was a part of Chloe that wanted to be by herself. However, the other side of her wanted nothing more than to be cuddled up next to Marinette while a movie played in the background. Her social battery was becoming challenged lately but Marinette only seemed to add energy as she never got tired of being around her.
“Honestly, I could use some girlfriend time. I love my dad, but he's been babying me and although I’m in a cast, I can still handle myself. Plus, I can hardly stand this ugly thing.” She tapped on her cast. “Tomorrows perfect.”
“Awesome! I’ll bring over my art supplies and a bunch of movies.” Mari smiled and kissed her on the cheek as the bell rang. “Here let me get your bag.” She offered and put it on her shoulder.
“It's alright, I can probably carry it myself.” Chloe tried to reach for it but instead Marinette took her hand and placed a kiss to her knuckles.
“I’m sure you can but I would like to carry my girlfriend's stuff.”
“Alright Dupain-Cheng. Just let me know when you get tired of it, all we need is for you to fall down the stairs and get put into your own cast.” Chloe teased.
Marinette rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m not that clumsy.”
“Of course not. But you are cute.” She winked and started to walk to class leaving a flushed Marinette behind.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
Everywhere she looked there was glitter. It was as if someone had taken all the sparkle particles in the city and sent them straight to her bedroom. Yellows, purples, golds and pinks of all shaped plastic that was as tiny as the tip of the pin covered her hands.
“Mari, I love the enthusiasm but am I going to have to get my room deep cleaned?” Chloe asked as she wiped her hands on a towel and yet the glitter still shined across her palm.
Marinette giggled as she grabbed another paintbrush and dipped it into black paint. “It will come out soon, or in a day-maybe even a year.”
The blonde wanted to be annoyed that she could potentially wake up covered in the stuff but seeing her girlfriend enjoying herself as she decorated those ugly crutches was enough to make her okay with the sacrifice of her rug.
“Well as long as my crutches look better than anyone’s ever had, I don’t mind.” She smirked.
“I’m sure they will. And done!” Marinette exclaimed and stood up to examine the crutches. “What do you think?”
Chloe always knew that Marinette was an artsy person, anyone could tell that just by looking at her. No matter how many times she was shown her work, she would always be in awe at how amazing it was.
The crutches had gone from a dull light grey to a masterpiece. They had been painted a light yellow and had black flowers all around them. Small bees were hidden all around and had glitter on top to add a little extra flair. Even the cushions that her arms rested on were now wrapped with black fabric.
“They look stunning.” Chloe gasped.
“A Queen Bee theme for a queen.” Marinette smiled and placed them against the wall so that the paint could dry. “They should be dry in a couple hours so if you need to move around, I’ll help you around.”
“Thank you, Marinette, I love them a lot.”
“Anything for you.” She kissed her cheek. “Now are you ready for the cast? I was thinking of painting sunflowers and then our friends can sign the petals to make it even more special.”
“That sounds lovely.” Chloe says as Marinette moves her leg, so her cast is sitting in her lap.
“Perfect! Will you pass me the yellow paint?” She points.
Chloe reaches to the bucket of paints and picks out the tube of yellow and hands it to her. Her eyes shift over to her crutches, and she focuses on the bees. She loves it and thinks it's pretty, but her chest still feels tight when she thinks about her being Queen Bee.
“Marinette, can I tell you a secret?” She whispers and she feels like she wants to take the words back when Marinette looks up at her.
“Of course, always.” She responds and sets her brush down.
“I shouldn’t be Queen Bee.”
Marinette's eyes shot wide open as she's shocked from the words that left her lips. “What? Why would you say that?”
She expected her to react like this but something about the look in Marinette's eyes makes her wonder why she looks so upset. She suddenly feels so small, and she knows that if she speaks, tears will follow.
She feels Marinette take her hand. “Is this because you got hurt?”
Chloe sniffles and she turns her head away. “It's more than just that. It's nightmares and letting everyone down.”
“Chloe.” She frowns. “You didn’t let anyone down.”
“It's ridiculous Marinette. I really thought that I could be this amazing superhero and be helpful. Instead, I was a fool that almost cost us the win. Ladybug told me that the miraculous would be waiting for me once I’m better, but I don’t think I should go back. I can’t mess up again.” Chloe looks at her and now she can see it.
She can see the heartbreak in Chloe’s eyes. The bags from hardly any sleep are showing up and she wishes she noticed sooner. Every time she had visited Chloe, she never talked about the nightmares, or the cast and she didn’t want to bring it up herself. It's weighing on her and all she wants to do is reach out and take away the pain.
Tears gather in Marinette's eyes. She had never seen pure devastation on her girlfriend's face or seen how vulnerable she is allowing herself to be. The conversation she had when she was Ladybug comes back. She takes a breath because she isn’t sure her words would work when Ladybugs didn’t do so well.
“You know what I admire about you?” Marinette starts and cups her cheek. “You have a remarkable amount of bravery. It's okay to mess up and make mistakes, but what really counts is if you get back up again.”
A sigh leaves the blondes' lips. “I don’t know.”
“I can see it in your eyes Chloe. No matter what, you love helping people as Queen Bee. Getting hurt doesn’t make you a bad superhero. It makes you human. No one will blame you for being scared to go back out there. You have so much courage just considering it. I believe Ladybug when she says she wants you back out there. You’re amazing and I wish I could show you how great you are.”
“Do you really think she means it? That she’s waiting for me?” She asks.
“Definitely. Ladybug would never cast you aside.” She reassures her.
Through her sobs Chloe let’s out a laugh. “That's exactly what Chat Noir said.”
Marinette's eyes widen when she realizes the pun she just accidentally said and scoffs. “Of course, he did.” Her thumb catches another tear. “I mean it Chloe. Not as just your girlfriend but as someone who truly believes in you and is on your side. You are the only Queen Bee for Paris. Plus, it would be utterly ridiculous of you not to go back out there.” She tried to make her smile.
And it works. The tears slow as Chloe takes a deep breath. “It would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”
Marinette scoots closer and nuzzles her nose against hers. “I mean if you quit then I couldn’t brag at how my amazing, stunning and absolutely gorgeous girlfriend is one of the greatest superheroes the world has ever seen.”
“Well, we couldn’t let that happen.” Chloe giggles as she feels her heart becoming lighter.
It becomes clear to Chloe that she can’t let this affect her. She wouldn't let a broken foot and fear hold her back. No, she was going to be the hero her girlfriend believed her to be. She wanted to rise to the challenge and get her mojo back. Make sure that Ladybug knew that she was ready to get back out there and be back on her team. She wanted to see Pollen again and help stop Hawk Moth.
“You’re amazing Chloe.” Marinette and that's enough for Chloe to want to be better.
It has always been Marinette cheering her on. She won’t let her down. She leans forward and takes Marinette's lips slowly. It's soft and slow but fills her stomach with butterflies. A warmth fills her chest as Marinette kisses her back. She runs her hand through her dark hair, pulling her impossibly closer and she can feel the smile forming on her girlfriend's lip.
“Thank you, Marinette, for believing in me.” She said as they pulled apart.
“I always will Chloe.” She responds just as she kisses her again.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
A month later
“Alright Ms. Bourgeois, your cast is officially off, and you won’t be needing to rely on crutches anymore. All I suggest is taking it easy for about a week or two, but you recovered extremely well.” The doctor smiled and Chloe could feel a new freedom as she wiggled her toes.
“It's about time.” She spoke.
“You can discard your crutches in the other room if you no longer want them.”
Chloe turned to her crutches that were still as pretty as the day they were painted. “Absolutely not. These crutches are the best in Paris and there is no way that I am getting rid of them.” She then sees her cast sitting on the back counter. “I want to keep that too.”
“You want to keep your cast?” The doctor questions.
She only scoffs and hops off the medical table. “Of course! My friends worked hard to make it look special, it's going to be framed to remember my time of bravery.”
The doctor shrugs. “Okay then, you’re free to go Ms. Bourgeois.”
“Thank you.” She huffed and grabbed her crutches before heading out toward her limo.
For the first time in what feels like a century, she's able to get into the car without any help. She can cross her legs and shift comfortably. “I’m never taking advantage of walking again.” She says to herself as she pulls out her phone. She dials a number and on the second ring it picks up.
“Mari? We have a date in the park this Saturday and I want your finest sugar cookies.”
She hears her girlfriend's soft laugh on the other side of the phone. “I’ll be there.”
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
It had been a few days since the cast was removed. She felt perfectly fine, and everyone was starting to revert back to treating her normally. No more kid gloves or pampering hand and foot excessively. Now it was them pampering her hand and foot normally, just how she liked.
She stared in the mirror as she reached for a hair tie to pull her hair up. Behind her, she heard a tapping noise coming from her balcony door. Looking at the time, she realized she had about ten minutes before her date with Marinette.
Another tap from the door and she rolled her eyes.
“Stupid wind.” She complained as she walked over to the door. Instead of the wind or a random object, the hero of creation stood before her. “Ladybug?” She gasped.
The hero offered a bright smile. “Heard you got the cast off and I’m in need of some assistance.” She said as she held out the miraculous box.
Any doubt or guilt she had carried over the last few weeks had vanished. There was a hint of pride in Ladybug's eyes as she offered the power to her.
Chloe reached out for it before hesitating. “I have a date with Marinette.” She frowned.
Panic settled in as Ladybug held the box. “Uh, I’m sure she will understand. After all, you are a superhero and about to help save Paris. Plus, you then get to tell her about all the exciting action you faced!” She said quickly.
Chloe thought about it for a second.
“I guess you’re right. She is one of the most understanding people around, unlike most of the fools I know. Now, hand me that box Ladybug, I have a villain to crush.”
A bright golden light emerged, and Pollen faced her with a smile.
“My Queen.” Pollen bowed.
“It's nice to see you again.” Chloe patted her on the head. “Time to remind Paris who their Queen Bee is!”
“Absolutely!” Pollen cheered.
“Pollen. Buzz on!”
As the light surrounded her, it filled her with joy. There was no darkness, no villain taking her down. Fear of failure was a thing of the past.
A hand came onto her shoulder. “It's good to have you back Queen Bee.” Ladybug said.
Chloe turned and engulfed her in a hug. It took them both by surprise, but she felt Ladybugs arms around her. “Thank you.” She whispered.
“You are always going to be Paris’s bee.”
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
There was a rush of adrenaline flowing through her as she transformed back to her civilian form. She handed Ladybug her miraculous and for the first time in months, she was at peace with herself.
“You did amazing Chloe! Give Marinette my best.” Ladybug said as she zipped away.
Without wasting any time, Chloe rushed over to the park to find Marinette sitting on a picnic blanket.
“Sorry for the wait.” Chloe said as she joined her on the blanket.
Marinette laughed and handed her a drink. “Don’t worry about it. I ran back to the bakery to grab some stuff, so your timing is perfect.”
“Well, you have to be perfect to be a superhero.” Chloe smirked proudly. “I’m not sure if you saw but I got the final blow in.”
“I was on the edge of my seat watching the Lady Blog. You looked incredible.” Mari said as she took her hand. “I’m really happy you didn’t give up. You’re an inspiration to others by teaching them to not let fear hold them back. Ladybug is lucky to have you.”
Chloe felt her cheeks flush at her girlfriend's words. Pure adoration was clear on Marinette's face. “If anything, I’m lucky to have you.” Chloe told her before kissing her on the lips.
≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾
Thank you for reading :)
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Kiro’s Collection of Sounds Date Translation [CN]
Hey! Just a couple of things before you begin reading. I don’t actually know Chinese so this translation was done through the power of Google Translate and with help from @keliosyfan. Thank you! 💛
I highly recommend reading the prologue to this date which I’ll link here. It gives some context and has some sweet and spicy moments. 😍 There’s also a phone call that comes before the date which I’ll link here.
This translation contains spoilers for a date that has not yet been released to the English server. If you wish to not be spoiled, please don’t look below the cut.
Hope you enjoy~ 💛
*Spoilers below for future content!*
[First Part]
The moment I opened the car door, unlike the smell of the city, fresh air flooded into my nose.
The air seemed to carry the fragrance of grass, and there were also some hints of wet grass.
Several flat brick houses in the distance were scattered on the hillside, and the smoke from the chimneys was also reflected by the sun with a faint golden light.
Ahead is the end of our journey; a village far away from the noise--
Kiro is currently composing a new song. To add more special elements to it, we are here to collect sounds.
Kiro: Miss Chips, come and help!
The flustered tone brought my thoughts back. I looked behind and saw Kiro getting out of the RV with several pieces of recording equipment.
I quickly hugged the microphone boom on his shoulders in my arms. He stabilized his balance, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Kiro: The air here is so good. I picked a good place.
Kiro: We will definitely find the best sound here!
Kiro: Gogogo!
We picked up the hand-drawn map and started to walk towards the village not far away.
MC: Passing through the small forest ahead, you will reach the elderly lady’s house!
As soon as the voice fell, there was a rustling sound in the grass not far away, accompanied by a few animal noises.
I followed the sound, and a big plump goose appeared in the gap between the grass and walk towards us swayingly.
I don’t know who was blocking the other’s way but we both stopped at the same time.
I couldn’t help thinking of the stories of many people being chased by geese, and my feet involuntarily took a step back.
Kiro: We unexpectedly met the rumoured “Country Bully”; Goose Boss!
It flapped its wings, telling us in a high-pitched manner, “Don’t mess with me!”
*Can confirm. Geese, especially Canadian geese, are hella vicious. They will just stand there and 👁👁. If you stare long enough, they’ll start honking and flapping their wings at you. They’re cute though!*
Kiro: Hahaha, it’s really as fierce as the ones in the video.
Kiro looked at Big Goose curiously and didn’t seem to realize the “crisis-ridden” situation at hand. I couldn’t help pulling on his sleeves.
MC: Let’s take a detour, just in case….
Before I could finish, there was another noise coming from the grass.
A few goslings poked their heads out. They are like yellow pompoms, and their eyes are looking at us steadily.
Kiro: Hey~ *The way he said this was so cute!*
He spoke softly, bent down and waved.
Immediately afterwards, the goslings wandered over with wobbly feet, trying to climb on his calf again and again.
Kiro couldn’t help laughing. He put down his luggage, sat down and carefully touched the goose.
Kiro: Hello, future Goose Boss~
[Second Part]
After a while, one of the goslings flapped its wings and struggled to climb to the toe of Kiro’s shoes while making a soft sound.
Kiro: Little guy, do you want me to hug you? *He’s talking so softly here 🥺*
The gosling seemed to understand what he meant by spreading its tiny wings and shaking its body.
Kiro gently held it up, looking at the little life in his palms without blinking.
Kiro: Miss Chips, would you like to come closer?
MC: Ok!
I just took a step when the ‘Goose Boss” in front of me gave a more threatening honk than before, and it rushed towards us with its neck thrust forward.
MC: ….Be careful!
Kiro quickly put down the goose in his hand steadily, but it was too late to dodge the collision of the Big Goose.
The moment the Big Goose pounced on him, he opened his arms and held the Big Goose in his arms.
“Goose Boss” was stunned for a second, then spread its wings again and his long beak approached his cheek.
Kiro smiled without worry. He stretched out his palm to cover the goose’s head and gently pet it.
Kiro: Don’t be afraid, don’t be angry. I won’t hurt you. *Changed some wording*
The Big Goose shrank its neck somewhat resisting and honked a few times in protest, but Kiro still stroked it without letting go.
Kiro: We can be good friends, right?
His voice seemed to have magical power, and the Big Goose gradually quieted down. Its menacing wings also retracted.
It leaned lightly on his shoulder and squinted its eyes in content.
Kiro smiled and hugged the Big Goose and couldn’t help rubbing its white head a few more times.
Suddenly, the young goose at his feet wailed as if hungry, and the Big Goose immediately spread out its wings and jumped out of Kiro’s arms.
It gently combed the feathers on the goslings and then swaggered away with them.
Kiro smiled crookedly and waved his arms.
Kiro: Goodbye, Goose Boss~
Watching them disappear gradually, Kiro stood up and rubbed the mud off of his body.
MC: Unexpectedly, the frightening Big Goose gave in to the “head pats”~ *This came out weird in GT so I changed this part up a bit*
Kiro: Of course, no one can resist “head pats”.
MC: Are you the same?
Kiro walked towards me, lowered his head and shook it.
Kiro: Miss Chips, would you like to try it too?
The curly blond hair swayed gently in the breeze as he shook, seemingly sending me the most sincere invitation.
It looked so soft and vibrant under the sun, I couldn’t help rubbing it a few times.
Kiro: Well….it’s true.
He immediately wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his head into my neck and shoulder.
Kiro: I am like a big goose now. I don’t want to leave anymore.
His warm cheeks were close to my collarbone, and a sudden rush of heat quietly reached the tips of my ears.
I didn’t know if he could hear my accelerating heartbeat. He raised his head and looked at me with pure blue eyes.
The next second, a hand fell on top of my head and rubbed it.
When I didn’t react, a sly smile raised at the corner of his mouth.
Kiro: Now it’s your turn.
He opened his arms and seemed to be waiting for me to pounce into his arms.
MC: ….Let’s hurry up and get to the elderly lady’s house!
I pretended to glare at him and walked forward with a chuckle.
But even if I speed up my pace, it seems that I can’t hide the sound of my heart beating like a drum.
(Cut to elderly lady’s house)
Soon we arrived at elderly lady’s house.
She is the person who is most familiar with the mountains and forests in the entire village. After she learned that we need to collect sounds, she enthusiastically introduced us to many places here.
After we gave her a greeting gift that we had prepared a while back, she took us to the backyard.
Although I heard many things about this lady’s backyard filled with a sea of flowers; after seeing it with my own eyes, it was even better than I had imagined--
Clusters of slender branches are adorned with flowers of different varieties. Large painting-like flowers rippled with the wind, setting off a “wave”.
I closed my eyes and the wonderful sounds around me continued to interweave, entangle, and overlap, as if playing a song.
I turned my head to look at Kiro and found that he had also closed his eyes.
The sunlight gleamed on the side of his face and the corners of his lips curled up as if greedily taking everything in around him.
Against the background of the sea of flowers, all the light and colours are gathering towards him, becoming extremely dazzling.
I don’t know if he felt my gaze but he opened his eyes and looked at me.
Kiro: Miss Chips, are you ready to move into our Flower Sea View Room?
(Cut to room)
We walked into the cabin. Although the space was not large, it was very tidy. Some flower buds had even bloomed, filling the cabin with life.
MC: It’s really nice here and the scenery is pleasant. And along the way, it was very quiet because there were no people around!
MC: This way, you don’t have to worry about being interrupted, and you can do what you want without any restraint.
Kiro: With no restraint?
Before the words finished, he raised a lazy smile and dragged me into his arms. Our center of gravity was thrown off at the same time and we fell on the soft bed.
I stared at Kiro above me in a daze. He pushed some hair on my face away, leaving an itchy feeling.
Kiro: Then I have a lot of things I want to do….
Kiro: You will cooperate with me, right?
His breath was so breathy and soft, it made the tips of my ears turn red instantly.
MC: If it is a reasonable thing….of course I will cooperate.
Kiro: Let’s rest for a while.
He fell on the bed and hugged me tightly, leaving only a small gap for us to breathe freely.
Kiro: Before collecting sounds, let’s be lazy. But not too much~
[Third Part]
After the afternoon nap, Kiro and I walked into the mountains with our equipment and started the official sound-collecting trip.
Seeing the porcelain doll originally placed in the RV hung on his backpack, I couldn’t help but be a little surprised. He seemed to see my doubts and shook his backpack.
Kiro: It is the main character of this song, and I want to take it and set off.
Kiro: I believe that everyone listening will be moved by it. *Changed some wording*
Kiro: Creation is like a kind of communication. The creator just tells us what the character wants and does it another way.
Kiro: So since it is going to find the “fragments” that have been lost, this doll cannot be absent from the process.
Kiro lowered his eyes and gently rubbed the porcelain doll with his fingertips. I couldn’t help holding his hand.
MC: So have you figured out what sound you want to collect?
Kiro: Of course….I’m collecting all of the beautiful sounds.
Kiro: There are always people experiencing unsatisfactory things, I want to use these sounds to awaken the beautiful memories that are not noticed by them.
His earnest words can’t help but remind me that each of his songs seems to bring light and power to everyone.
MC: Then I have to make a contribution and prick up my little ears to find the sound!
Kiro looked at me and raised his brows slightly.
Kiro: Miss Chips, do you know?
Kiro: In fact, in some special circumstances, you can let the sound actively find you.
MC: Really, how do we do that?
Kiro: Such as….
He pressed the corners of his lips, his eyes closed, and then a warm touch pressed against my ears.
Kiro: I am the “sound” that will come to your door. *It took everything in me to keep to the original as much as possible. My mind went many places 😳*
Kiro: Whenever Miss Chips gets bored or misses me, I will be the first thing to pop into your ears. *HIS VOICE IS SO BREATHY AND LOW AAAAAAHHHH*
I couldn’t help but tremble and my heart was beating wildly.
MC: You….!
He tilted his head, smirking like a little devil.
Kiro: I seem to hear a special heartbeat.
I realized that I had accidentally fallen into his “trap” and had to blush and ran forward.
MC: There seems to be a sound in front of me. Let me go and take a look!
(Cut to spring)
Kiro and I walked forward slowly and the sounds from the distance before became clearer and clearer--
The gurgling clear spring faintly made the sound of water colliding with the stones, and the crisp birdsong in the sky also flew near and above.
Kiro put in his earphones and walked forward softly.
He bends down for a while and stretches his hands in front of him; he raises his arms high again as if he is adjusting his posture following the bird’s path.
The sun shines through the gaps in the leaves, through the mist in the forest, and poured a little bit onto him, creating a beautiful aperture.
Looking at Kiro like this, I was subconsciously drawn in.
It seemed that whenever he was immersed in the world of sound, his expression would become extremely pure and profound.
There is a sense of keenness in his eyebrows, but the curvature of the corners of his mouth never fell.
He is very happy.
Thinking of this, I smiled to myself.
Suddenly, he walked up to me, took out the earphones and gently put them in my ears.
Kiro: Listen with earphones; you will find many unexpected nuances.
Following his whispers, the natural sounds around me rushed into my ears like a spring.
The sound in the earphones seems to be completely different from the sound heard by human ears at ordinary times--
The sounds of birds, cicadas, springs, and the wind brushing leaves are more delicate and clearer than usual.
These pure sounds are usually drowned out by the sounds of the city.
Kiro: How do you like it?
MC: I think these sounds have become a song….
Kiro looked into the distance with a serene smile in his eyes.
Kiro: They are original songs created by nature.
Hearing this, I quickly took off one of the earphones and put it in his ear.
MC: The let’s listen for a while~
I leaned against Kiro’s body, quietly feeling the “music” in the earphones.
The sounds around me kept flowing and flowing into my ears. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and imagine the invisible scenes one by one--
The leaves fell on the ground with the wind and the fish flipped in the stream with splashes, water droplets falling from a height….
These sounds automatically filled the picture inside my mind, drawing every detail. I couldn’t help but laugh softly.
Kiro: MC, what are you laughing at?
I opened my eyes and found that he had seemed to have been looking at me the whole time.
MC: I was just imagining the scenes of these sounds and I thought that the experience this time was amazing.
MC: I haven’t finished yet, why are you laughing!
I said, poking at the corner of his raised mouth.
Kiro: Because I found myself thinking the same thing as you.
Kiro: So I can’t help but feel…. very, very happy.
Suddenly, a ray of sunlight seemed to pierce through the clouds and shoot straight down, making the surroundings shine brightly.
Even the porcelain doll hanging on Kiro’s backpack was shining brilliantly.
[Fourth Part]
As it was getting late, Kiro and I were passing by the small pool in the backyard with a “full load” when he suddenly stopped.
MC: What’s happening?
Kiro glanced at the pool next to him, his eyes flickering slightly.
Kiro: MC, do you want to cool down?
Although my clothes weren’t soaked, the sweat from my forehead kept coming.
I looked at the cold pool and couldn’t help nodding.
We put down the equipment in our hands, turned on the hose and walked towards the pool.
He sat down by the pool first and then stretched out his hand to me.
I thought he was going to help me sit down but I didn’t expect him to gently pull me to sit on his lap.
Kiro: There is mud on the ground. Sit with me.
As if guessing what I would do next, he wrapped his arms around my waist and tightened them.
MC: I’m….I’m not afraid of getting dirty.
I blushed and retorted but did not continue to struggle. My feet splashed the water gently.
The water splash sounded continuously and it blended into the surrounding cicadas seamlessly--
This is the sound of summer.
I couldn’t help but lean my head on his shoulder and the porcelain doll was reflected by the moonlight in the corner of my eye.
Thinking of its story, I couldn’t help but feel something in my heart and spoke slowly.
MC: This porcelain doll may represent a lot of people. Despite being “broken”, it felt that it was not a big deal.
MC: But over time, more and more cracks in the body began to make it incomplete….
MC: When I think about it, it must feel empty.
Kiro lowered his head, his breath lightly brushed my cheek.
He looked at me quietly, his eyes seemed to be mixed with inexplicable emotions.
MC: However, I’m not worried about this situation!
MC: Because I have you, Kiro.
MC: Whenever I encounter problems in life and work, I will face them more positively as much as possible.
MC: Because of you, I am not afraid of anything.
I couldn’t help laughing and there was a little splash on my feet.
Kiro: Mm, Miss Chips has me.
Kiro: I hope you are always happy.
His tone was with undeniable certainty and a warm current suddenly surged in my heart.
MC: However, Kiro, you also have me.
MC: I will also make you happy forever and ever.
Kiro looked at me deeply and suddenly widened his eyes slightly as if thinking of something.
Kiro: I seem to have a new idea!
He raised the corners of his mouth and hummed a brisk melody on the spot.
MC: Is this your new song? It seems different from the demo before.
Different from the soothing tune before, the melody this time is light and free; as soft as lying on a cloud.
Kiro: Because MC has changed it.
MC: Eh, how did I change it?
Kiro wrapped his arms around me tightly again and looked at me softly.
Kiro: Before, I wanted to awaken some of the beautiful memories that people hadn’t noticed and retrieve the lost goodness.
Kiro: But there are actually more powerful ideas than this, like a porcelain doll, for example.
Kiro: Even if it doesn’t get its lost fragments back, it can still use the leaves, petals and grass that pass by to complete itself again--
Kiro: It can have a new ending in the future!
Kiro looked straight at me, his eyes full of stars.
Kiro: In fact, we can also re-decorate with the beauty around us and become who we are now.
Kiro: Just like how you have been by my side, I became the current Kiro.
Kiro: When I am happy, you turn it into double happiness. When I am tired, you will be my power bank. When I’m frustrated….
Kiro: You are the reason that I won’t fall down.
Kiro: I accepted all the “fragments” you gave me and became my current self; a better Kiro.
Each word he spoke pulled my heartstrings inadvertently.
MC: Kiro….
Before I finished speaking, there was a sound of water pouring coming from the hose.
I don’t know why the hose was still trickling just now. A large amount of water came gushing out of it and began to dance in the air.
Kiro and I couldn’t avoid getting most of our bodies soaked and he hurriedly reached out to hold the hose in a panic.
Just as Kiro had grasped it, the hose sprayed me.
I instinctively turned my head and threw myself into Kiro’s arms, but my lips brushed against something soft.
I immediately lowered my head and buried it in his neck.
Kiro: What’s wrong? Why is your face suddenly hot?
MC: It’s nothing. It’s just a bit hot.
Suddenly, his chest trembled slightly, as if he has seen through my cover and was trying his best to hide a laugh.
Kiro: Oh~ So that’s the case. Let me cool you down.
As soon as the voice fell, he raised the hose in his hand and pointed it at me at a relatively safe distance.
The jet of water brushed my ears, bringing a comfortable icy coolness.
Kiro: Is it cooler now?
I subconsciously looked away and responded to him in somewhat of a daze.
MC: Okay, much better, thank you!!
Kiro: Now that you’ve said thank you, can I ask for another reward?
MC: ….What do you want?
Kiro: I want Miss Chips to replicate the moment with me before.
He seemed to be deliberately reminding me that he was very close to me, his hot breath blew from the tip of his nose.
I stared at him blankly and finally looked at his lips.
My thoughts flooded like a tide, and my lips suddenly became a little hot.
MC: You are shameless….!
Kiro: No, I’m asking for it honestly.
Seeing him blinking his eyes cheekily, I wanted to laugh.
MC: Well….
I took a deep breath, held his face and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
In the next second, a jet of water splashed my ears--
Kiro: That one just now doesn’t count. Do it again.
MC: Kiro!
As soon as the voice fell, he touched the tip of my nose, his eyes locked onto my face.
Kiro: I want more than that.
His soft voice crept into my ears, leaving traces of tickling.
Kiro: Those lost fragments….
Kiro: Let me fill them in for you.
After he finished speaking, he closed his eyes and my lips were instantly covered by a soft touch. His breath is sweet, like a fruit gummy.
He seemed to pour out all the hidden emotions that he couldn’t express out into this kiss, which was long and uncontrollable.
I also close my eyes and responded softly. In fact, I still have a lot to say.
I want to tell him--
Actually, you have done more for me.
You have brought light to me, and you have made me more courageous to look forward to a better future.
Because of you, I gradually became a better version of myself.
End
The call that comes after the date can be found here!
#mlqc#mr love queens choice#mlqc spoilers#mr love dream date#mldd#mr love#mr love game#mlqc kiro#mr love kiro#mldd kiro#周棋洛#date translation#I'M SO PROUD OF MC!!! SHOW YOUR MAN SOME LOVING!!!#HE DESERVES IT!!#I really enjoyed this date#It was a perfect mix of all the flavours of Kiro
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Fred Weasley’s Day Off (Part 1) - F.W.
Fred Weasley’s Day Off- Fred Weasley x Gender Neutral!Reader [Ferris Bueller’s Day Off AU]
Warnings: only occasional mild language
Word Count: 4.2k
A/N: this is Part 1 of my new 5 part series, Fred Weasley’s Day Off! You can find the series masterlist here. This part is going pretty similar to the movie, but as the story unfolds, I promise it isn’t a carbon copy of John Hughe’s masterpiece. Hope you guys enjoy :)
Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name, Y/L/N is Your Last Name, and thoughts are in italics.
Taglist: @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @probably-peeves @horrorxweasley @weasleywh0r3s
if you want to be added to be added to my general (or this series!)’s taglist, send me a dm or ask!
If you haven’t seen Ferris Bueller’s Day off or just need a refresher, HERE all all the scenes included in this part in chronilogical order! I HIGHLY reccomend giving these a watch, for they make the situations a lot easier to understand (and they’re hilarious).
----
It’s a beautiful day today, temperatures in the upper 70’s. You can expect plenty of sun and not a cloud in sight. Right now, it’s 75 at lakefront, 74 at Midway, 73 at the O’hare.
“Arthur!” Molly Weasley screeched, beckoning her husband to Fred and George’s messy bedroom. The walls were plastered with large posters of their favorite bands and sports teams (mainly Fred’s), and an expensive computer sat on the desk in the corner. The door to the room was ajar, a frantic mother feeling a haggard Fred Weasley’s forehead.
“What's the matter?” Arthur asked, briefcase in hand.
“It’s Fred, for Merlin’s sake look at him!”
Fred laid slumped under the hand-knitted quilt like a corpse, his hair tousled and his chin unshaved. She continued, “he doesn’t have a fever, but his stomach hurts and he’s seeing spots!” Fred peeled his pained, umber eyes open, his weak gaze pointed to his suit-clad father.
A sympathetic Arthur reached for Fred’s cold and clammy hands, feeling them with a shudder. He’s got a bad cold, he thought, poor boy needs to stay home and rest.
“I’m fine, I’ll get up. I have a test today.” Fred leaned up slightly, his stuffy nose attempting to breathe. His baggy eyes drifted around the room, glazing the empty bed parallel to his’. “No!” Molly and Arthur Weasley stated firmly in unison, pressing his aching chest into the soft bed.
“I have to take it. I-I wanna go to a good college, so I can have a fruitful life.” Fred kept attempting to get out of bed, only for Molly’s gentle hands to guide him back down.
“Oh fine, what’s this? What’s his problem?” Ron leaned against the untidy bedroom’s door frame, his arms crossed, his face donning an unamused expression tinged with jealousy. He was looking daggers into Fred, who reciprocated nothing but a wink.
“He doesn’t feel well,” Molly stated, not pleased in the slightest with Ron’s distasteful demeanor.
“Yeah, right,” Ron rebutted with a scowl. The tips of Ron’s ears seared with resentment for his brother and anger at his naive and biased parents.
“Ronnie? Is that you?” Fred asked, his blurry vision making the outline of his brother near indistinguishable from the rest of his room. “Ronnie? I can’t see that far.” Fred leaned up in an attempt to see his brother, before falling backward with a dramatic moan.
“Dry that one out, you could fertilize the garden,” the younger ginger spat, tapping his toe furiously.
“Ronald, you get to school!” Molly demanded, vehemently gesturing for him to leave.
“You’re letting him stay home? If I was bleeding out my eyes you’d still make me go to school! This is so unfair.” Jealousy oozed from Ron’s clenched jaw like venom.
“Ron, please don’t be upset with me. You have your health, be thankful,” Fred said coolly. His eyes remained glinted with mischief, causing a furious Ron to storm off in a huff.
The concerned mother and father turned back to a wheezing Fred. Molly tucked him in tighter, cooing, “Now listen, I’ll be showing that new family some houses today, so I’ll be in the area. The office will know just where to find me if you need anything, okay?” A wave of gratefulness swept over Fred’s face.
“It’s nice to know I have such loving, caring parents. You’re both very special people.” Molly caressed Fred’s ashen cheek before planting a compassionate kiss on his warm forehead.
“G’bye champ,” Arthur said to his son before carefully shutting his door and walking to the garage.
They bought it.
Incredible. One of the worst performances of my career, and they never doubted it for a second. Fred peeled back the curtains blocking the beautiful view from his large windows with a smirk. He looked out the panes, admiring the gorgeous weather. How could I be expected to go to school on a day like this?
This is my ninth sick day this semester; it’s getting pretty tough coming up with new illnesses. If I go for ten, I’ll have to barf up a lung, so I’d better make this one count. Fred carefully adjusted his extortionate stereo, his fail-proof plan slowly piecing together.
Fred then stepped over to his desk, reaching for an old, hefty soccer trophy of his and some rope. The key to faking out the parents is the clammy hands. He started knotting the rope around the shiny golden award methodically. A lot of people’ll tell you to go for the old ‘phony fever’, but if you’ve got a nervous mother, you could wind up in the doctor's office. That’s worse than school.
“It’s a little childish and stupid, but then, so is high school.”
He scrupulously placed the trophy contraption behind his door with a satisfied nod, proceeding to the bathroom dressed in his grey and maroon striped bathrobe. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
Fred undressed and stepped into the steamy shower, quickly shampoo-ing his ginger mop into a spiky mohawk. He gave some thought about his plans for the leisurely day before removing the showerhead, gripping it like a microphone, serenading an imaginary audience, “I recall Central Park in fall. How you tore your dress, what a mess, I must confess…”
----
“Spinnet?” A greasy Mr. Snape drawled, spectacled eyes darting around the dingy classroom, illuminated with corporate fluorescent lights. “Spinnet?”
“Here!”
“Smith?” Silence. “Smith?”
“Present.”
“Weasley?” Snape asked, scanning the room for any signs of the irresponsible redhead.
“Weasley?” he repeated, uninterested and monotone. “Weasley?”
“Um, he’s sick,” a perky Cho Chang cut through the tense silence with a smile, “my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s girlfriend heard from this guy, who knows this kid who saw Fred pass out at Florean’s last night! I guess it’s pretty serious.”
“Thank you, Cho,” Snape said impassively.
“No problem, whatsoever!”
----
A robotic ring emitted from the phone next to Lee Jordan’s bed, disturbing the perturbed ambiance of the inert bedroom. The hypochondriac occupying the sheets clicked the silver ‘answer’ button with a shallow sigh.
“Hello?” George Weasley asked, his voice deep and groggy.
“Georgie, babe, what’s happening?” Fred’s exuberant voice questioned from the other end of the line, starkly contrasting his twin’s nonbelligerent energy.
“Very little,” he responded in a trance-like state, eyes spacing out at the blank ceiling, his mind nearly detached from his aching body.
“How do you feel?”
“Shredded.” Half-empty pill bottles and antihypertensive drugs lined the bleak nightstand to his left.
“Get dressed and come on back home. I’m taking the day off,” Fred imposed. He sat in a lounge chair, next to the turquoise pool, soaking in the bright morning sun, which starkly contrasted George’s dark atmosphere. He held a Brick to his ear, sipping an iced Hawaiian drink from a swirly straw. The only thing covering his body was a pair of floral swim trunks; plastic sunglasses rested in the ginger nest atop his head.
“I can’t stupid, I’m sick. I think I got food poisoning from Lee’s awful cooking.”
“It’s all in your head, George, come back home,” Fred said more firmly, taking another sip of the fruity drink in the souvenir cup.
“I feel like complete shit, Fred. I can’t go anywhere.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Now come on over here so I can have a fun day off!” Fred demanded, hanging up the phone promptly. “Sheesh.”
George remained stiffly on the sheets, still as a statue, muttering, “I’m dying.” The phone chimed again with another call. Click.
“You’re not dying, you just can’t think of anything good to do!” Fred’s voice echoed through the dimly-lit room before the tone of an ended call took its place.
“Pardon my French,” said Fred to no one in particular, “but George is so tight, that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks, you’d have a diamond.”
Fred quickly abandoned the pool deck, instead continuing random antics around the vacant house, whether it was (horribly) playing his centuries-old clarinet, or prank calling gullible freshmen claiming he had an impending kidney transplant. This was the life.
“I’m so disappointed in George. Twenty bucks says he’s sitting in his car debating whether or not he should go out.”
Fred had hit the nail on the head. George sat in his four-wheeled hunk of junk for minutes, muttering to himself, “He’ll keep calling me. He’ll keep calling me until I go home. He’ll make me feel guilty. This is ridiculous! Okay, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go.” He turned the key of the run-down car, only for the engine to cough and heave. “Goddamn it!”
----
“Molly Weasley,” Molly introduced herself to the caller from her desk at the local real estate office. She held the landline phone in one hand, the other scratching numerals and figures onto some spreadsheets.
“This is Dolores J. Umbridge, Dean of Students. Are you aware that Fred is not at school today, Miss Weasley?” she asked punctually, her voice laced with irritation.
“Yes, I am. Poor Fred is home sick.”
“Are you also aware that Fred does not have what we consider an exemplary attendance record? He has missed an unacceptable number of school days.” Umbridge looked icy and collected on the outside, but deep down she was fuming with anger. “I have no reservation whatsoever about holding him back another year.”
“This is all news to me,” Molly replied, taken aback by Umbridge’s blunt threats.
“It usually is.” Dolores turned her attention to the hunky computer opposite her, ready with Fred’s academic profile, scanning the pixels signifying his number of absent days. When she finally opened her jaw to announce the number to Mrs. Weasley with a devious grin, she was horrified to see the number of days slowly ticking down to two.
“I asked for a car, I got a computer,” Fred said with an unamused but smug smirk as he typed lines of code into his computer back at the Weasley household, “how’s that for being born under a bad sign?”
“I can appreciate how this time of year, children are prone to taking the day off. However, in Fred’s case, I can assure you, he’s a very sick boy.” And with that, Dolores hung up on a sympathetic Molly, her tight brunette curls gradually frizzing from aggravation.
“I don’t trust this… Fred Weasley,” Umbridge confided to her secretary, Augustus Filch. “What’s so dangerous about a character like Fred is that he gives good students bad ideas. The last thing I need is fifteen-hundred Fred Weasley disciples running around these halls. He jeopardizes my ability to effectively govern this student body.”
“Well, he makes you look like a bitch is what he does, Dolores,” Filch said with a smirk.
“You’re wrong,” Dolores asserted, fiery gaze piercing through Filch’s soul.
“Well, he is very popular. The sportos and motorheads, geeks, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads, they all adore him. They think he’s some righteous dude,” Filch said astutely.
“That is why I’ve got to catch him this time. Show these kids that you can’t just skip school nine times a semester like he has and get away with it!”
----
Mr. Binns, a prehistoric-looking man with novel-thick glasses, stood at the head of the classroom, giving his usual dull lecture. While he etched utter nonsense onto the chalkboard, you couldn’t help but release a bone-cracking yawn.
After years of sitting in your uncomfortable plastic chair, drowning out Mr. Binn’s boring babble, your saving grace arrived in the form of a grave Nurse Pomfrey.
You quickly slipped on your pale, leather jacket and stuffed your blank notebook into your backpack at the sight of the frail woman donning white scrubs like a dove, eager to escape class. Nurse Pomfrey had on a solemn face as she quickly whispered something into Mr. Binns’ ear before announcing to the uninterested class, “Y/N, Y/L/N, may I have a word with you?” You painted a look of surprise on your face before stepping into the hallway with the disturbed grey-haired woman.
“My dear, I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tidings,” she said sorrowfully once out of the earshot of the small lecture hall, “your father called. Your grandmother has just passed.”
Your eyes welled with artificial tears, face drenched with heartbreak.
----
The landline echoed through Umbridge’s dreary, pale pink office.
“Dolores Umbridge,” she said pseudo-cheerfully into the handset held by her thulian claws.
“This is Phil Y/L/N,” a middle-aged man said, his voice slathered with a thick Chicago accent.
“How are you today, sir?” Dolores asked suspiciously.
“Well, today we’ve had a bit of bad luck. It’s been a tough morning,” he croaked, “now if you wouldn’t mind excusing Y/N, we have a lot of family business to attend to.”
“I’d be happy to, just produce a corpse and I’ll release Y/N. I want to see this ‘dead grandmother’ firsthand.” She peeled the phone away from her face, smiling valiantly at a mortified Filch, saying slyly, “It’s okay, it’s Fred Weasley. I’m setting a trap for him.”
“Dolores, I’m sorry, did you say you wanted to see a body?” an ill-tempered Mr. Y/L/N questioned in disbelief through the speaker.
“Yes. Just roll her old bones up here and I’ll gladly retrieve Y/N for you. That’s school policy.” Dolores looked so pleased with herself, a devilish smirk resting on her lips. The telephone in Filch’s office chimed, and he quickly dashed to answer it.
“Hello, Dolores Umbridge, Dean of Students’ office,” his gravelly voice answered.
“Hi. This is Fred Weasley. Can I speak to Miss Umbridge, please?” Filch’s mouth went desert-dry in horror, his aged, grey eyes bulging out of his skull. He dashed to a taunting Umbridge, jumping and waving for her to shut up.
“I’ll tell you what, if you don’t like my policies, you can come down here and kiss my-”
“Fred Weasley’s on line two, Dolores!” Umbridge’s eyes went as wide as saucers; her whole face, even her bright fuchsia lipstick, turned as white as a sheet.
She was quick to switch to line two, listening to Fred Weasley’s voice which filled the otherwise silent room.
“Miss Umbridge, I’m not feeling too well today,” Fred started, a smug and valiant grin on his face. He adjusted his clean and gelled hair, which perfectly complemented the perfectly-tailored suit he donned. “Would it be possible for Ron to bring home any assignments from my classes? Have a nice day.”
The only sound left in the office was the droning disconnect tone.
The ‘line one’ buttoned flashed bright red like a siren. With a shaky, wrinkled pointer finger painted with a coat of magenta nail polish, she hesitantly pressed the button, sucking in a breath.
“Mr. Y/L/N, I-I think I owe you an apology,” she said, mortified.
“I should say you do!” the deep voice on the other line boomed. Umbridge peeled open her lips for an apology, only to be cut off with, “Well I think you should be sorry for Merlin’s sake! A family member dies, and you insult me! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“W-well I really don’t know. I didn’t think I was talking to you, I thought you were someone else,” Umbridge barely managed to spit out. “You know I would never deliberately insult you like that!”
“Find out where she is!” Umbridge hissed to an idle but nervous Filch, her palm covering the phone’s mouthpiece. He promptly scrambled around the surrounding metal filing cabinets, reaching for various binders and manilla folders.
“This isn’t over yet, do you read me?” The infuriated voice’s threat yelled into the frantic principal’s ear.
“Loud and clear, Mr. Y/L/N!” she responded while scouring the various sets of drawers for Y/N’s schedule.
“Call me sir, goddammit!”
“Yes sir!”
----
“That’s better. Mind your P’s and Q’s buster, and remember who you’re dealing with!” an exasperated George Weasley shouted into the kitchen’s phone, his voice at least an octave lower than usual. His look of fury was soon replaced with a smile from ear to ear, quite proud of the convincing-ness of his impression.
A dashing, suit-clad Fred Weasley soon strutted into the lemon-yellow kitchen, charismatically introducing himself, “Weasley, Fred Weasley.”
George held his palm over the mouthpiece of the phone, asking, “I’m scared. What if she recognizes my voice?”
“Impossible. You’re doing great.”
The self-conscious redhead brought the phone back to his ear, shouting “Umbridge!” furiously. Groaning echoed from the other end of the line. “Umbridge, calm down!”
“I don’t have all day to bark at you, so I’ll make this short, and sweet. I want my child outside of the school in ten minutes by themself!”
Fred gave George a harsh tap on his shoulder, hissing, “That’s too suspicious! She’ll think something’s up!”
“You do it then!” the other twin whispered back.
“Talk.”
“You!”
“Talk.”
“Fine!” he fizzled. “Umbridge! Pay Attention!” The magenta-suited principal was scuttering around her office, frantically searching for your schedule and something to repair the escalating situation.
“Umbridge! Changed my mind. I want you out there with them, I’d like to have a few words with you!” Fred swiftly slapped the phone from George’s clutches, causing it to fall on the tile carelessly. The identical gingers both scrambled for the phone, ending up in George’s grasp once again.
He yelled to the mouthpiece rapidly, “On second thought, we don’t have time to talk right now! We’ll get together soon and have lunch!”
Fred kicked George’s rear hard, causing a small yelp to escape George’s lips. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he spat at Fred, who quickly slammed the phone back to the base.
“Where’s your brain?” he harshly asked his irritated brother.
“Why’d you kick me?” George retorted, hurt.
“Where’s your brain?”
“Why’d you kick me?”
“Where’s your brain?”
“I asked you first!”
“How are we gonna pick up Y/N if Umbitch is out there with them?” Fred rhetorically asked, seething.
“I- I said for them to be alone and you freaked,” George stated, reverting back to his timid tendencies.
“Now, I didn’t… I didn’t hit you. I lightly slapped you.”
“You hit me.” Tension sliceable with a butterknife filled the kitchen.
“Look, don’t ask me to participate in your stupid antics if you don’t like the way I do it. You make me get out of bed. You make me come over here. You made me make a phony phone call to Dolores Umbridge? That woman could expel me, expel us, and then, you deliberately hurt my feelings!”
“No… I didn’t deliberately hurt your feelings,” Fred said, his words tinged with guilt. “What’re you doing?” George grabbed his red hockey jersey and keys that previously laid on the island.
“I’m going back to Lee’s, Fred. I need some rest. Have a nice life.”
“No, no, c’mon. Don’t do that, George,” Fred pleaded ruefully, “George, come back. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I’m sorry.”
“You serious?”
Fred gave a slow and sincere nod. George swiveled back around, setting his belongings back on the counter, his face lightened slightly.
“Now, to fix the situation, we’re gonna have to do something you’re not going to like.”
----
Fred and George peeled the sliding glass doors of the luxurious garage apart, revealing the interior, which was mainly lined with thousands of dollars worth of vintage car memorabilia, save for the treasured vehicle in the center.
“The 1961 Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe,” George said, his eyes pointed down at the prized pompadour blue car resting idly in front of the duo. Fred's eyes were also fixed on the vehicle, though his’ were illuminated with awe and mischief.
“Dad spent 3 years restoring this car,” he continued, hands behind his back, not daring to leave fingerprints on its shiny surface, “it is his love, it is his passion…”
“It is his fault he didn’t lock the garage,” Fred smirked, sauntering around the exterior of the automobile, slobbering all over the surface like a dog with fresh meat.
“Fred, what are you talking about?” George asked nervously, already knowing what Fred was plotting, “Dad loves this car even more than he loves you!”
“Fred, no.” Fred swiped his fingers over the perfect coat of paint, occasionally posing with the car as if he was a model on the front cover of a magazine.
“Que Bella!” he said with a chef’s kiss, still drooling over the car’s magnificence.
“Remember how insane he went when I snapped my retainer? And that was a tiny piece of plastic!” Fred paid an anxious George no mind, instead continuing his admiration for Arthur’s most valuable possession.
“George, I’m sorry, but we can’t pick up Y/N in that piece of scrap. He’d never believe Mr. Y/L/N would drive something like that!”
“It’s not a piece of scrap.”
Fred opened the driver’s side door, slowly sitting down in the comfortable cushioned seat, his umber eyes never breaking contact with George’s identical ones.
“He knows the mileage, Fred.”
“Look, this is real simple. Whatever miles we put on, we’ll take off.” Fred said, barely giving George the time of day.
“How?”
“We’ll drive home backwards.”
“No,” George said firmly, almost like a mother. Fred turned the key of the Anglia, its restored engine roaring ten times better than George’s hunk of junk’s.
“How about we rent a nice Cadillac, my treat!” He yelled as Fred slowly drove away, the revving of the vintage engine drowning out his voice. George stood frozen in disbelief, before Fred slowly backed up, beckoning George to join him.
With a heavy heart, George warily climbed into the back seat of the vehicle. And with that, Fred floored the gas, speeding off towards the Shermer High.
----
“I had a grandmother once,” Umbridge awkwardly stated, in an attempt to soothe your heart overcome with (fake) grief. “Two, actually.”
The suburbs outside of the Windy City lived up to their name today; Umbridge’s frizzy brown curls swayed in the strong breeze. The temperature today was the best it had been since last Autumn; it was a given that Fred would skip.
You patiently waited on the concrete steps outside the school, Umbridge continuing her “comforting” words, attempting to stitch the wounds caused by your grandmother’s staged death. You weren’t focused on the thulian tyrant, however, instead, your eyes waited on the road for the sight of a ruby-red-haired boy.
“Between grief and nothing, I’d take grief,” Umbridge said flatly.
“Great,” you replied softly, eager to shut the toadish old lady up. She opened her magenta-tinted lips to add something else, but she decided against it, promptly shutting her mouth without a sound escaping.
The stentorian roaring of the engine residing in cerulean Ford Anglia filled the silent air and idle parking lot, lightening your spirits instantly. While you didn’t doubt that Fred would’ve shown up eventually, his timing was impeccable. It didn’t hurt that he showed up in a killer ride, either.
A tall, lanky man drenched in a long beige trench coat, horn-rimmed sunglasses, and a businessman-looking fedora, which masked his fiery orange hair, emerged from the car, leaning against its body.
“Oh Y/N honey, hurry along now,” the stranger in disguise bellowed, his voice slightly higher pitched than ‘Mr. Y/L/N’s’ from the phone, a thickly-slathered Chicago accent present nonetheless.
“I guess that’s my dad.”
You grabbed the annoying principal’s wrinkly, cold hand, reciting, “Miss Umbridge, Dolores. You’re a beautiful woman, I wanna thank you for your warmth and compassion.”
A furious Ron watched from the scene play out from the large front windows of the school, immediately recognizing Fred and his infuriating antics with a scowl. Why should he get to skip while the rest of us have to stay? I’ve gotta catch him.
Umbridge looked near disturbed at your counterfeit words on thankfulness, before you eagerly stepped down to the car, giving ‘Mister Y/L/N’ a quick hug.
“Do you have a kiss for Daddy?” Fred jokingly asked with a smirk.
“Are you kidding?” you replied, leaning into his soft lips for a passionate kiss, which maybe would have escalated a little further if he didn’t drag you in the passenger seat of the Anglia.
“So that's how it is in their family,” Umbridge uttered as she watched the nearly-French kiss perched from her spot at the top of the stairway. She swiftly pivoted around walking to the front entrance to the school, when Fred floored the Ford again, its loud engine roaring off into the distance.
“Hi Georgie, you comfortable?” you asked, eyes towards the crampted back seat.
Once the three of you were out of Umbridge’s eyeline, a compact George sprung up from the lonely backseat, saying, “Hi, Y/N. No.”
“So, what're we gonna do?” you asked the dashingly handsome driver next to you with a smile.
“The question isn’t: What are we going to do? The question is: What aren’t we going to do?”
“Don’t say we’re not going to take the car home. Please don’t say that we’re not going to take the car home,” George mumbled, hopeful that Fred would comply, though he already knew that Fred would be doing the exact opposite.
If you had access to a car like this, Fred mentally narrated, gesturing to the amenities-rich Anglia, would you take it back right away? Me neither.
And with that, Fred recklessly rounded the bendy road, speeding off towards downtown Chicago.
#fred weasley#fred and george#fred and goerge weasley#fred weasley x reader#fred and george weasley#fred weasly x reader#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley x you#fred weasley and george weasley#fred weasley au#fred weasley blurb#fred weasley drabble#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley fic#fred weasley fluff#fred weasley headcanons#fred weasley hc#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley one shot#fred weasley reader insert#fred weasley series#fred weasley story#fred weasley x oc#fred weasley x ferris bueller#ferris bueller's day off#ferris bueller#cameron frye#sloane peterson#weasley wizard wheezes#the weasley twins
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For the ♛ prompts: 43 and/or 48, pretty please? 😊
prompt: “you’re lucky you’re cute”
warnings: fluff...lots and lots of fluff. no pronouns used for reader.
read on ao3 | drabble list
“There’s one thing I hate more than the First Order,” Poe murmurs as you both take in the scene before you: golden floors and walls, people dressed in gaudy outfits that you can’t begin to imagine how they got into, and the sound of slot machines running wild. “Places like this.”
You’re keen to agree as you tug self-consciously at your own outfit. It was a deep red suit and was the least flashy thing you could find to wear. It hugs you nicely, but you’d forgone the tie or ascot that was supposed to go with it and keep the top few buttons undone so you can breathe.
Meanwhile, beside you, Poe looks - well, not to borrow a page from Maz’s book, but he looks dashing. He’d dragged out the tux he’d worn to that party he’d crashed with Finn and Suralinda back while you were on Ryloth with the others. He looks good in it, but it’s also surreal to see him in something so fancy. You’ve known him for years, and seeing him out of a flight suit or his favored tunic and leather jackets is a mind-trip.
It’s not a bad different though, no....not at all -
You snap your gaze away from him, cheeks warm. It was an annoying different though. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but...all we gotta do is find the central terminal here, let me do my thing, and then we’re out.” You whisper back to him; another reason for your choice of outfit was the set of slicing tools you needed to hide. You couldn’t take BB-8 on the mission with you, he stood out too much and was too easily recognizable, but you weren’t one of the Resistance’s best hackers for nothing.
“Right,” Poe mutters, splaying his hand on the small of your back as you move through the crowd, “In and out.”
You try to focus on the fountain of champagne you pass, or the dazzling chandeliers or even the catchy song that the live band is playing, but instead all you can focus on is the warmth seeping in through the fabric of your suit as Poe continues to guide you along, not dropping his hand from your back.
It’s your own fault really. The only identification you and Connix had time to whip up for the mission was that of a married couple, so the closeness was necessary. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to lack personal space - Poe was a generally affectionate guy, and you enjoyed the attention - but there was something different about this. You were both away from the Resistance, looking like neither of you usually did, hiding behind guises that were married.
“Over there,” Poe’s voice is barely above a whisper, breath fanning along the shell of your ear as he leans in to avoid being heard by anyone. You follow his line of sight and see a doorway just behind where the live band is playing. It isn’t guarded, but it’s going to be difficult to get in without being spotted by anyone - which would raise some questions.
Your gaze slides back over to Poe, eyes raking over his suit, and you remember your cover story. Or maybe it wouldn’t. You offer him your hand with a flourish, “Dance with me, love.”
Poe’s brow creases in confusion, so you shoot him a go with it expression, and he slowly takes your hand. You lead him to the dance floor, just in front of the stage the band is standing on, and turn to face him expectantly. When he doesn’t immediately move, you lean in and whisper, “You do know how to dance, right?”
He almost looks affronted, “Yes, I know how to dance, but -” he cuts himself off, clearing his throat as he finally settles his hands on your waist. He won’t meet your eyes, which is problematic for your plan, but you swear you see his cheeks darken. Maybe it’s a trick of the light? “What is it that you’re thinking of because you’ve got that look on your face.”
You lean back in mock offense, “What look?”
His eyes finally meets yours and oh the way they make you melt: there’s so much softness in the way he’s regarding you, a light twinkling in those dark eyes that reminds you of starlight. “Like you’re about to drag me into trouble.”
“I do not drag you into trouble,” you protest as Poe finally relaxes a little and you begin to more than just sway to the music as the band revs up the tune. Within seconds, you’re circling each other, holding on by your fingertips, never breaking your gaze, “If anything, you drag me into trouble. It’s practically your thing. I don’t engage unless I’m provoked, y’know.”
You both step back into each other’s gravity. Poe’s eyelids are lowered as you stare up at him, chin up as you silently challenge him to argue the fact. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he tells you with a laugh. Your jaw goes slack but before you can say anything more, he’s twirling you away from him in time to the music.
When he pulls you back in, you’re not quite ready for it and you stumble into his chest. He catches you gently, one hand on your waist, the other on your shoulder. Maybe it’s because none of this feels real, but you fix him with a smirk, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because you and I both know that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”
“Are you saying I’m full of it?” You retort, smiling.
Poe shakes his head, looking heavenward. “What’re you thinking?”
You quickly relay your plan to Poe, chewing nervously on your bottom lip while he takes it in. After a long pause, he nods once, “Alright. If you’re sure about this.”
“I am,” you say, and something burns in the starlight in his eyes.
A few minutes later, the two of you are stumbling through the crowd, laughing and unable to keep each other’s hands off each other. His hand slips inside your jacket, pulling you flush as you walk back towards the door you need, and you begin to question if this really was a good idea because you’re finding it really hard to breathe and your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest -
And then you’re out of view of the dance floor and Poe draws back immediately, leaving you feeling bereft. He looks breathless, but motions at the hallway in an ‘after you’ gesture. You nod shakily, heading off in the direction you assume the control terminal will be. Poe’s one step behind you the entire time, looking behind you every few seconds to make sure no one’s followed you.
The control room is at the end of the hall and the door’s locked. You whip out your set of tools from inside your coat and begin to work on fixing that. It’s so easy you don’t have to think about what you’re doing, muscle memory quickly taking over, and you can’t help but think back to what it was like to have Poe that close, to have been flirting easily with him on the dance floor…
The door slides open with a shick but you don’t put your tools away; you’ll need them to retrieve the data the Resistance needs. You step inside and are surprised to find the room empty. “One locked door is all these guys keep on this stuff?” Poe asks, entering behind you. “With all the credits they’re sitting on?”
You’re already set up at one of the terminals, searching for the records you need. “They probably weren’t expecting their records to get broken into, Poe. Most of their efforts would be centered on a vault...got it!” You quickly transfer the data into a chip and show it to Poe with a flourish, grinning widely. “What’d I say? In and out.”
Poe hums in acknowledgment, offering his hand for you to take. “We’re not out of the woods yet, sweetheart. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“Sweetheart?” You question as he leads you out of the room. He throws you a smile over his shoulder and counters with, “‘Love?’”
You start to reply but you crash into Poe’s back before you can, since he stops abruptly and you hear him mutter, “Dammit.” You can barely get a look around him to catch a glimpse at the approaching guard before he’s pushing you the opposite way, past the records room and further down into the twisting hallway.
Which, of course, leads to a dead end.
“Great,” you say, throwing your hands up. “Any other ideas?”
Poe looks around, but there aren’t any rooms around for you to hide inside. Then he goes still and slowly turns on his heel to face you, expression apologetic. “Just one, but you’re not gonna like it.”
You narrow your eyes, “What are you - oh,” you choke out when he very pointedly looks at your lips. You fix your mouth wordlessly a few times, but the growing noise of the guard’s footsteps snaps you out of your trance, “Do it.”
He crosses to you quickly, but as he moves into your space, Poe hesitates a little. Then, he’s cupping your jaw with one hand and the other is on your hip pulling you close, and his mouth meets yours.
You slide a hand around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He guides you backward til your back presses against a wall, and he draws your bottom lip into his mouth. You respond by tugging lightly on his curls, which draws out a low hum from him that sends goosebumps along your arms. He squeezes your hip, fingertips meeting bare skin from where your button-up had ridden up from stretching up to meet him, as he aligns your bodies better together -
“Hey! This corridor’s off-limits, find somewhere else to do that.”
You break apart, but Poe doesn’t step back from you as he twists to nod at the guard, “Sorry, man. We’ll just finish this up back on our ship. C’mon, sweetheart.” His voice is rough as he proffers you his hand. You take it, managing to fix the guard with what you hope is an apologetic smile.
As you dart around the corner, you hear the guard mutter something about lovebirds, but you do your best to ignore it, even though all you can focus on is how seconds ago, you were kissing your best friend - and how real it felt.
Without meeting his gaze, you say, “You were wrong, by the way. I did like it.”
#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#poe dameron imagines#poe dameron imagine#poe dameron x you#myfic#ask box#nonnie nonnie#uhhhh i'm not use to writing fluff and i think this makes that obvious
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Devil-May-Care
Pairing: demon!Dream / Clay x demon hunter!gn!reader
Summary: [Demon Hunter!AU] When you went in search of the most powerful demon known to mankind, you didn’t expect him to be so charming.
Warnings: a little horror + some violence + tw// weapons (crossbow, gun)
Word Count: 4.2k
A/N: this was requested by a passionate anon! i fell in love with the request at first sight and had loads of fun writing this, although i did take some creative liberty with it. i hope you all enjoy :)
You huffed as you pushed past the branch hanging in your face, wrinkling your nose as you trudged onward. The forest was almost eerily silent around you, the pitch black night doing nothing to ease the tension that had gathered in your shoulders. Above you, the moon and stars twinkled soundlessly, peering down at you with wide, watching eyes.
Where could he possibly be hiding? you thought to yourself with a grimace. Is he even in this forest?
Your mentor had told you that this forest was the last place he’d ever been seen, and that it would be your best bet. But she also told you not to get your hopes too high, since he was known to be a trickster who never stayed in one spot for too long.
You sighed as you stepped over a fallen log, making sure not to trip. Despite how young the night was, you were already getting tired. Tracking was arguably the hardest part of your job, and easily your least favourite part of it.
Then again, no one said being a demon hunter was easy.
With a slight grumble, you squinted through the darkness while walking past another tree. So far, all you’d seen was tree after after tree, and you were getting fed up. Heck, you could have sworn there was a clearing just ahead of you here.
It was at that moment that the trees suddenly parted before you, and you found yourself standing in the middle of a clearing. The soft grass rustled beneath your feet as you took a tentative step forward, your ears perking up for any noise or movement. When nothing came, the muscles in your legs tensed.
This was the first clearing you had found in hours, and something about it just felt off.
“What are you looking for, little hunter?”
You whirled at the sound of the low, curling voice, your gaze frantically darting around the darkness for its source. You kept your lips pursed as your head whipped this way and that, nothing but silence filling the forest air. Even with the light of the moon, all you could make out between the shadows were the silhouettes of trees and their taunting branches looming over you.
There was no way it was who you thought it was... right?
“Not gonna say anything? Hm. Perhaps that’s just because you can’t see me. Here.”
You heard the snap of a finger, and the clearing around you suddenly lit up in a faint, greenish hue. Your eyes widened as the earth you stood upon began to glow, your fingers twitching at your side. Turning again, you quickly searched your surroundings once more for the voice’s owner. Everything seemed to be exactly how it appeared when you first arrived—the trees were just trees and the grass was just grass, even if they were both admittedly glowing.
Just then, there came a whistle from above you.
You lifted your head, and your gaze fell upon a figure sitting atop a tree branch a few feet away. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight.
Piercing, emerald eyes. A green fitted shirt to match. Dark, golden hair. A smattering of freckles. A cold, wicked grin.
The man smiled at you, swinging his legs leisurely as he tilted his head. “Hello there, pet.”
You didn’t wait another second before your arms were reaching up behind you, pulling your crossbow off your back. You slotted the arrow into the flight groove in near record time before aiming it up at him, aiming for but a split second before you pulled the trigger. In a flash, the arrow went flying through the night sky, pointed directly at his face. You could have sworn you caught his eyes turn red before he suddenly vanished, your arrow passing through empty space before pinning itself into the tree trunk he had been leaning against just seconds prior.
You panted, quickly pulling another arrow out of your quiver and reloading your crossbow as you turned in a circle, not a single detail going unnoticed by your watchful eyes. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you tried to focus on the rustling leaves around you. Your fingers curled around the stock of your bow a fraction tighter, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
Where is he? Where did he go?
A smooth voice curled around the back of your neck.
“Is this how you greet everyone you meet, or am I just special?”
Whipping around again, you pulled the trigger without even an ounce of hesitation. A twang of satisfaction shot through you as you heard the distinct sound of flesh being pierced, followed by a tumble to the ground. You rushed over at the sight of the man—or demon, as you should be calling him—lying sprawled on the ground, his arms casually tucked under his head as if he hadn’t just been shot.
“Ooh,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around the arrow sticking out of his chest, “your arrows are made of dreamshade.” He grinned at you. “Smart one, aren’t you?”
Before you could even react, he ripped the arrow out, watching with amusement as crimson slowly dripped onto the front of his shirt. You stared at the hole in his chest, left behind by your arrow, a glimmer of glee expanding in your chest. Yes! you thought, your lips quirking as your hand floated toward the pistol hanging at your side. Now’s my cha—
All of a sudden, you watched in horror as the skin began to reform, the sinew and muscle stitching themselves back together to fill the gap. In an instant, his chest was whole again, the hole having disappeared entirely with nothing to even hint at its existence, were it not for the tear in his shirt.
“Unfortunately for you,” he said, tossing the arrow behind his head with a flick of his fingers, “I’m tougher than most demons out there.”
In a flash, you were standing over him, one foot digging into his chest. You didn’t even give him the chance to blink before you were pointing your crossbow at him once more, this time just barely allowing the arrow tip to hover above his neck. You tried to calm your breaths, pushing back the sick sense of joy you could feel starting to boil over inside you. You were so, so close to just killing hi—
“Don’t you think it’s a little rude to attack me without even asking for my name?” he calmly drawled, looking bored out of his mind.
You blinked in surprise, your thoughts faltering for a moment before your expression hardened once more. “I know who you are.”
He cocked his head at you, something like delight swimming in his viridian eyes. “Do you, now?”
You gulped, hesitating only for a moment before you began to speak. “Y-You’re Dream. Lord of chaos. Progenitor of destruction. Harbinger of nightmares.” You nearly choked on your own words.
“The world’s most powerful demon.”
He grinned at you, clapping his hands together above his head as he let out a small hoot. “Aw, you know all my titles?” He winked. “That’s cute.”
Cute, your brain repeated dumbly, a fuzzy feeling forming in your chest, but you quickly shook the thought from your head with a scowl. You should not be happy that one of the most powerful demon’s known to mankind called you cute.
(Okay, well. Maybe you were a little happy. Not that you would ever admit it.)
With a stony look, your finger wrapped around the crossbow trigger, the cool metal sending a shiver down you spine. “I’m here to kill you, Dream.”
He didn’t look fazed. “Oh? Even though we only just met?”
A snarl ripped itself out of your throat, fury slowly beginning to claw up your insides. Why did he sound so calm? Didn’t he understand that he was about to die to your hand?
“That doesn’t matter,” you said bluntly, trying to ignore your heart ramming away at your ribcage. “You’re a monster that needs to be disposed of.”
He hummed, absentmindedly picking at his nail. “That’s bold of you to say.” His tone was dull and interested, and his eyes seemed to shine even brighter thanks the green glow surrounding his head. “I can’t remember the last time a demon hunter has ever been so upfront with me.”
The string tying your restraint together snapped. That was it. How could he be so nonchalant? So apathetic? Didn’t he care?
“You’ve killed so many people,” you spat, “taken so many innocent lives, and for what?” You narrowed your eyes, nothing but pure disgust running through your veins as you dug the tip of your crossbow into the soft flesh of his neck. “What reason do I have to stop myself from ending your life right here, right now?”
Below you, Dream only stared blankly at you, his eyebrows raised. Then, he let out a sigh, wrapping a hand around the stock of your crossbow. Panic shot through you as he pulled it away from his throat with ease, his fingers curling around the polished wood. “First of all,” he said lowly, “that little thing isn’t going to do anything.”
In a blink of an eye, you heard the snapping of metal and wood, your gaze going wide. He shot you a cocky grin. “Not anymore.”
You leapt back, gritting you teeth and tossing your now useless crossbow onto the earth beside you. Your hand moved in a blur as you reached down and pulled out your pistol from its holster, pointing it toward him. “Each and every one of these bullets is soaked in holy water,” you shouted, your hand cocking back the safety. “Don’t think I won’t shoot.”
Dream rolled over onto his stomach, his grin widening as he rested his chin on his hand. “Tell me,” he drawled, tilting his head, “do you really think you scare me?”
You ignored the shaking of your fingers. “I—I can and will shoot you.”
He laughed, an uncomfortable warmth wrapping around your gut. “Please, darling—I’ve been alive for longer than you can even fathom. As if you’d be the first to pin me down, let alone try to shoot me.” His eyes flashed crimson, and you felt your stomach drop. “I know all your hunter tricks and tactics, and believe me when I say they won’t work.”
Suddenly, he floated up off the ground, not changing his position whatsoever. In only a matter of seconds, he was hovering above you, blinking down at your shocked expression with mirth glimmering in his scarlet gaze.
Of course he could levitate—what were you expecting?
“Second,” he said, “I did a lot of those things a long time ago, especially in human years. How long has it been?” He tapped his chin. “Probably centuries by now, which is like forever for you guys.”
You scowled at him, your pistol still pointed at him. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t caused any chaos recently.”
“That’s true!” he chirped, snapping his fingers. “But my more recent activities have been much more... tame in comparison to my golden years, don’t you think?”
As much as you wanted to shoot him right here and now, you also wanted to punch him in the face before you did. “Lives are lives, Dream!” you shouted. “Any more or less lost doesn’t make you any more redeemable.”
A chuckle slipped from his lips, flipping onto his back as he continued to hover in the cool, night air. “Oh, you humans and your morality. How entertaining you all are.”
There was only one word running through your mind as you glared at him, your jaw clenching tight as your rage only multiplied inside you. Monster, monster, monster.
His eyelids fluttered shut as he allowed himself to drift a fraction lower toward you. “Well, I do believe I should ask—who’s to say that I was the one who killed those people, anyways?”
Your heart stopped in your chest. “...what are you talking about?”
He peeked an eye open at you. “It’s not like I flew down from the sky and shot them all with a rifle, and it’s not like I just snapped my fingers and everyone dropped dead.” He hummed at the thought. “Just what kind of person do you take me for?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, your toes curling in your boots. “Stop distracting me—you’re dodging the question.”
“On the contrary,” he shot back without missing a beat, “I’d argue that you’re dodging mine, pet.” You could hear the laughter threatening to bubble up his throat as he spoke. “Do you really think I was the one purely responsible for all that destruction?”
You tried to ignore the slight tremble of your hands. “A-Aren’t you?” you stammered out. “You’ve started wars, detonated massive bombs, pushed people to their absolute limits. That stuff’s all your fault.” You gulped. “...isn’t it?”
For a second, he simply stared at you. Then, he burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh, how naïve you are, pet. Just what were you taught?” As he clutched his chest, he sunk a little lower toward you. “I didn’t fight on those battlefields. I didn’t press the red button. I didn’t kick men and women to the ground, pointing guns in their faces. But do you know who did?”
The cogs in your head began to turn as you wracked your mind over his words. Then, a wave of understanding slammed into you, and you lowered your pistol, your arm going limp at your side.
He couldn’t possibly mean...
“Ding, ding, ding! You guessed it.” His lips curled up into a delighted smirk. “Humanity did.”
Your eyes widened in horror. Oh, no.
The manic look in his eyes only grew. “Oh, yes.” He cackled at the look on your face, pointing at you. “I didn’t even have to lift a finger for you to all walk straight into your own demise! How pathetic is that?”
You took a shaky step back, your pistol dropping to the ground. “B-B—”
“B-B-B-But what?” he said mockingly, mimicking you in a high-pitched tone. “Did they tell you that I’m the big, bad wolf and that humanity is Little Red? Because they lied, pet. They lied to you.” He pointed his fingers together to form an X, tilting his head at you. “I’ll have you know that I’m not a liar. A trickster, perhaps. But a liar?” He narrowed his eyes. “Never.”
He bent down where he hovered in the air, waggling a finger in your face. “The truth is, darling, is that I didn’t do anything. I just stood in the room and watched. I might have pointed out that that one little duke was in perfect view, or that that one city only had so many people living in it, but I never took any lives myself.” He lightly tapped your nose, and you shrunk back as he crooned, “Humanity did all that, pet. They’re the real monsters to blame here.”
You wanted to sink to your knees and melt into a puddle on the ground. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Your mentor told you that Dream killed all those people—that he was the one to stab the knife in and twist it while pulling it out. She wouldn’t lie to you, never in a million years.
You wanted to believe him, you really did. But there was something about the freckles scattered across Dream’s face and the way the moonlight bounced off his eyes that made you realize.
He was telling the truth.
A few moments passed in silence as you stared long and hard down at your feet. You could feel Dream’s gaze boring into your figure, eyeing you up and down as you struggled to steady the beating of your heart. You half-expected him to mock you even more, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Maybe he was more human than you thought.
“Why?” you finally whispered after god knows how long.
When you were met with silence, you raised your eyes to meet his once more. “Why did you do it?” you said, louder this time. “Why did you interact with us at all if you wouldn’t even get your own hands dirty? If you knew it would only end like this?”
His eyes flashed, the tiniest hint of carmine swirling in their murky depths. “Isn’t the answer obvious, pet?” He flashed you a wicked grin. “I was bored.”
You blinked, realization slowly setting in. “Bored? Bored?” You were about to lose it, now. “You did all that just because you were bored?”
He shrugged. “Sure did. Chaos makes the world so much more interesting, don’t you think? If only good things happened, you would be bored, too.”
Your stomach churned with disgust. “You’re twisted.”
His smile only widened. “At least I’m having fun.”
All you could do was stare at him in defeat. This wasn’t right. There were more ways to have fun than to toy with humanity’s psyche and drive them to end people’s lives, even for a demon like him. There had to be something you could do. For some inexplicable reason you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a part of you almost wanted to help him.
I must be losing my mind, you thought. What person in their right mind would try to save a demon, let alone the most powerful one of them all?
You, apparently.
The cogs in your head began to churn, your mind bustling as it tried to come up with some alternative, no matter how silly. There had to be something he could do that wasn’t just this.
That was when it hit you.
“Why,” you started slowly, your voice coming out shaky and unsure, “don’t you have fun in a way that doesn’t destroy things... but creates them?”
He blinked lazily at you. “Hm?”
You swallowed, raising your chin. “You—you can have chaos, but it doesn’t need to be destructive.”
He raised his brows. “It doesn’t?”
Your gaze hardened. “Not at all.”
Just then, a flash of memory shot through your skull, and you gasped. “Say, Dream,” you began, “do you—do you know how the Greeks thought the universe came to be?”
You didn’t wait for him to answer. “First,” you said, “there was chaos. And from chaos, life was born. Gods and goddesses, plants and animals.”
“And humans,” he added.
You nodded. “And humans—like me.” You pressed a hand to your chest. “See? Chaos can create things. It doesn’t have to be so full of death and terror.”
While his expression was bemused, there was something sad about it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You do realize that that’s just a story that you human made up?” he hummed. “How the universe came to be is far more different.”
You blinked. “You were alive for that?”
He sent you a blank smile, the look in his eyes betraying nothing. “Maybe, maybe not.” Waving his hand, he flipped over onto his back, floating a fraction higher than before. “Point is, that kind of chaos probably doesn’t exist.”
Your hands clenched into fists at your side. “But it could,” you whispered.
He paused, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “What?”
You dug your heel into the ground, raising your voice. “It could! You don’t know that it doesn’t.” You took a step toward him, throwing your arms out. “Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that exciting? That there’s a whole other form of chaos you’ve never discovered before?!”
Your shout rang out into the quiet forest as Dream stared at you, his lips parted the tiniest bit. Rather than looking amused or arrogant, he almost looked... raw. Real. This might just the most vulnerable look you’d gotten of him all night.
Then, he burst into laughter.
Lowering your arms, you huffed at him, trying and failing to ignore the warmth blossoming between your lungs as you took in his wheezing face. “W-What?”
“Oh,” he gasped between peals of laughter, “what a treat you are, pet.”
Heat flashed across your cheeks as he wiped away a tear from his eye, his chuckles slowly dying down. His laugh should not sound as attractive as it was—he should not be as attractive as he was.
“Tell you what,” he said as he caught his breath once more, sending you a devilish grin. “If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my real one.”
You stared at him for a moment, then your jaw dropped. “What?”
He stared at you, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light. “You heard me.”
For a few seconds, you simply gaped, your brain still struggling to process his words. “But... but why?” you finally blurted. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
He hummed at you, flipping upside down. “What about it doesn’t make sense? It seems like a fair trade to me.”
Sputtering, you threw your hands into the air. “A demon’s true name is the source of their power! By handing it over to me, you’re basically putting your life in my hands—in a demon hunter’s hands.” Your face blanched at the mere thought. “A human name and demon name aren’t even remotely comparable.”
He blinked at you, slow and lazy. “I know.”
You didn’t understand—you couldn’t understand. “Then why are you doing this?”
He dipped his down toward you, his face hovering mere inches away from yours. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured. “You’re interesting. And rather cute, I suppose.”
You back-pedaled, your eyes wide as you stammered, “I-I could kill you if you told me your real name.”
He hummed, tucking his hand under his chin. “Perhaps, I suppose.” His lips curled upward. “But you won’t.”
Your hand squeezed around nothing. “You don’t know that.”
He chuckled again, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “Oh, yes I do, pet. Don’t act as though I can’t see right through you. I know you’re too wishy-washy to kill me off just like that.”
He tilted his head at you, his gaze brimming with mischief. “That’s the thing about humans—you’re all so greedy. You all want something you don’t have, something that fuels you to acquire more. It might be power, or fame, or fortune, or love. It’s quite pathetic, really. But curiosity?”
Lowering himself, he pushed himself up until he was standing flat on the ground again, his hands sliding into his pockets. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and your mouth went dry. “Why, curiosity is your greatest flaw of all. You humans always want to know more, and I know that you want to know what I do next, whether you’re aware of it or not.”
You felt like your blood was going to tear right out of your veins. You hated how right he was, how well he seemed to know you. “You’re insane,” you said.
His smile was lazy and wide as he took a single step toward you. “Probably. But I’ve been alive for ages now, and you might be the most fun thing I’ve seen in millennia. I want to know your name, pet.”
This was crazy in every sense of the word. Any other demon wouldn’t even dare utter their true name aloud, even to themselves, yet here Dream was, bargaining his for yours.
You’d be an idiot not to tell him your name, now.
Swallowing, you didn’t dare look away from his piercing eyes. “It—my name is [Y/N].”
His lips parted in awe, and he stepped toward you once more. “[Y/N],” he repeated, slowly. Carefully, like a wolf stalking its prey. “Fascinating name. Haven’t met too many of those in my lifetime, shocking as it may be.” He paused for a moment, and you could have sworn his smile looked different. “It’s pretty.”
A rush of heat went shooting down your spine, your stomach doing a flip. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glared at him. “Well, stop dawdling! What’s your real name, Dream?”
For a long, excruciatingly slow minute, he only stared at you, scanning every inch of your face. You could feel anxiety begin to crawl up your throat as he did nothing more than watch the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.
All of a sudden, he was standing in front of you, his hand tucked underneath your chin and lifting it upward. You barely had the chance to gasp before you felt a soft warmth pressing against your lips, light as a feather and tasting like ash and smoke.
Before you could even register what had just happened, he was gone.
You whirled, your face growing astronomically hot. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears again, but for an entirely different reason this time. You raised your hand to touch your lips while your cheeks burned furiously.
Did he just... kiss me?
Just then, a whisper ran along the shell of your ear, so soft that you almost missed it.
“My name is Clay.”
#request#mcyt#MCYT fandom#mcyt imagine#mcyt fanfic#dream mcyt#mcyt scenario#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt fluff#mcyt angst#mcyt x reader#dream#Dream Team#dream scenario#dream imagine#dream fanfic#dream x reader#dreamwastaken#dreamwastaken x reader#dreamwastaken imagine#dreamwastaken scenario#dreamwastaken fanfic#dreamwastaken fluff#dreamwastaken angst#dream fluff#dream angst
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The Union: Chapter One - Sebastian Stan X Chris Evans X Reader
Summary: This fictional story takes place between the three kingdoms that hold great power in the untouchable lands located in Europe. Despite the modern developments in the other countries, these three kingdoms, Callisto, Europa and Io, exist hidden from the rest of the world and embrace the cultural customs shared for centuries from the early human civilizations.
You are the daughter of the Europa Kingdom led by your father, King Jovian. This year you reached the fruitful age of 21, meaning that it’s finally time to fulfill your duty as the princess of Kingdom Europa. The arranged marriage between Kingdom Europa and Kingdom Callisto has been something that your father planned for a long time to finally bring peace between the three kingdoms. Whether you like it or not, you are the key piece to it all. King Stan of Callisto is who you will be sharing the honor of the arranged marriage. He is known by all as a man of savage fighting nature and very few words. You know there is no hope wishing for the passionate love your father and mother shared, but will you be able to bring peace to this land to fulfill your father’s last wishes?
Link: Prologue | 1 |
Warnings: Inappropriate languages & minor heated scenes
Word Count: 2.6K
The dining table was filled to the brim with the fancy reception feast. High level nobles and knights sat around the table as they dug into the feast as if they had been starving for weeks. You and King Stan sat at the head of the table and your father sat by your right hand talking to the other noble men. When you glanced over by the King’s side, there was a handsome male with golden brown hair that reminded you of the warm autumn’s sun. He looked much too young to be the King’s father.
The Callisto’s family tree has been hidden under the table for a while after King Stan took over the land. One rumor said that his father died during one of the many battles, but no one ever heard about his mother. Some said that she passed away when he was young and others spoke of an illegitimate birth. You glanced over at the brown hair smiling lad by the King again.
Hm…
“How bold,” the King’s velvet voice spoke calmly, startling you. “The queen dares to look at other mates in front of her king already.”
Your face turned red as you quickly darted your eyes from the blonde male and back to your plate. The food was untouched and starting to get cold.
He chuckled, sending shivers down your cold skin. “I can introduce you. He’s a close friend and my right-hand man, Duke Christopher Evans.”
You glanced up and made eye contact with the clear, crystal blue orbs that belonged to Duke Evans. He made a pleasant, genuine smile that lit up his entire face and tipped his head towards your direction.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Euro- I mean Queen Callisto.”
You smiled back despite the awkwardness you felt when he spoke your new name. Any small amount of appetite you had left over was lost.
“The pleasure is mine, Duke Evans.”
“Please, call me Chris.”
You were taken back from the friendly nature of the Duke and didn’t know what to reply.
“Oh, uh-”
Before you could finish your sentence the king interrupted. “Aren’t you going to eat at all, my queen?”
You reached out for the brass fork beside the porcelain plate and stabbed a piece of salad through it. You felt the King and the Dukes’ eyes on you as you quietly chewed and placed the fork back down.
“The food must not be to your liking.” The King said out loud causing your father, who was engaged in another heated discussion with one of the nobles, to turn his head.
“My daughter loves all the food prepared at our castle, King Stan.” He replied disapprovingly. Your father took pride in the exceptional quality of food prepared in the Castle Europa kitchen. He even made sure to hand pick each and every staff member who was assigned to the kitchen.
“My apologies, King Jovian. I didn’t mean any harm in my comment. My queen looked like she was having a hard time finishing her meal.” King Stan replied with respect.
Your father cleared his throat which he did often when he disapproved of something. Ignoring the King’s comment, he turned to you. “Daughter, are you alright? Should I ask them to bring you something you would like to eat instead? What would you like?”
You smiled politely and shook your head. “No father, I appreciate your thoughts. My body is just exhausted from the long day, I’m looking forward to resting soon.”
King Stan’s smiling face and amused tone attracted the attention of the few sitting near us. “My queen, I didn’t know you were so eager to share beds.”
You glared up at him and saw a few unfamiliar eyes in your direction who caught his words. Your father’s pale fist around his steak knife caught your eyes. At this rate, there was only going to be one King standing after this dinner and King Stan was the one with a perfect track record. You looked over at Duke Evans who hung his head in shame at his friend’s embarrassing behavior. This dinner was already over.
You stood up from your seat and every pair of eyes around the room looked up including King Stan’s. “Please excuse me while I check on the preparations for my leave. Enjoy your dinner and thank you for coming.”
Whispers drowned behind you as you navigated yourself out of the dining hall. You walked over to the grand lobby and saw the helpers organize the boxes of your belongings for the move to Castle Callisto. You stood in the lobby and your chest felt heavy again.
“It looks like they are almost finished,” the velvet voice echoed behind her.
The tears teased around your eyes and you bit down on your lips hard to the point the taste of iron lingered around your mouth. You were going to make sure the King never saw your tears today. You were the Queen now. The last thing you needed him to think was that you were just another female body he could push around like a lifeless puppet.
He stopped next to you and your shoulder was touching his hard biceps through his commander uniform. You nodded in response without turning to look at him. “I am excited to see the beautiful Castle Callisto, King Stan. I should head back to say farewell to my Father.”
As you were about to head back, his strong grip grabbed your left wrist. His warm touch felt like needles against your cold skin.
“I’ll be waiting outside in the jet. Don’t make me wait too long.”
You wanted to rip your wrists out of his grip and shout profanities for asking you to cut your farewell to your own father short. You let out a soft exhale as you moved your free hand to move his warm hand. Despite the grip, it was fairly easy to move. Your hand felt tiny holding his large, masculine hand.
“Yes, I’ll be quick, my King.”
✧✧✧
You begged your father to continue the dinner instead of coming to say farewell. You knew that your goal of staying tear free this wedding was going to be ruined if you had to formally say goodbye. He then went on cursing about how he was going to kill that boy, but you had to quickly talk him out of that idea.
You looked at the massive Callisto Kingdom private jet that lit up the dark forest surroundings. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you looked behind the great Castle Europa. So many memories that made you into the woman you are today existed in this land. Biting your lips again, you closed your eyes to remember the air, soul, and people this land meant to you.
It was time to say goodbye.
“Goodbye Europa.”
✧✧✧
The jet trip was a little over two hours. Despite the empty seat next to the King, you sat in the row behind him. Surprisingly, he didn’t request you to sit next to him. Across from you was Duke Evans who fell asleep in the plush seat the moment the jet took off.
You stared out at the window the entire ride without a word. You couldn’t tell if the King also fell asleep, but you assumed he did since he also didn’t move a bit for the entire span of the ride like Duke Evans.
When the flight attendants came out from their space at the front of the jet, they announced that we landed in Callisto. You felt anxiety in your heart increase as you got up from your seat. As you were making your way to the aisle, a hot hand gently touched your arm. Unlike the prickly needle sensation from before, the touch was different, it was soft and caring.
The King quickly took off his jacket. In one motion, he wrapped your tiny frame inside the velvet material. You were still wearing your reception gown that was a toned down version of your white crystal wedding gown. It was sleeveless and made out of thin material. You didn’t realize how cold you were until the warmth encompassed your shoulders, arms, and bare back.
“It’s much colder in Callisto,” he said as continued down the aisle towards the exit.
“Thank you,” you managed to get out as you felt his warmth soothe your anxious feelings.
You followed the King and the Duke out of the jet. Like Europa, the landing field was located in the forest for privacy. When you got out, you couldn’t see anything but a large black SUV vehicle that was parked further out.
“Queen Callisto,” Duke Evans said as your feet touched the Callisto land. “Welcome to Callisto. I’ll be driving you and Sebastian back to the Castle.”
✧✧✧
Everything was a blur from the car ride to Castle. King Stan didn’t speak a word. You only captured a quick dark view of the castle as the car circled around through a private entrance and went underground. After what felt like five minutes in the tunnel, the car reached an empty parking garage.
Once the car parked, King Stan got out first and came over to your side to open the door. Half surprised that he still had manners after today, you hesitantly stepped out and looked around the space in curiosity.
“This is the private parking garage that gives you direct access to the King’s Suite.” Duke Evans spoke as if he could read your mind.
You knew that Castle Europa had similar security systems in place, but you never witnessed one in person.
Duke Evans led the way and you followed him and King Stan towards a glass door that led to the elevator. There was only one button that Duke Evans pressed and the elevator doors opened wide.
King Stan stepped inside and you followed. Duke Evans smiled as he waved back to us. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Queen Callisto and Seb. Have a good night.” Then the elevator doors closed.
✧✧✧
Each of the three kingdom’s castles had their own special charm. Castle Europa was unique from the others because it maintained the tradition and legacy of the old castle. They did make modern upgrades like jet landing sites and other security features, but the castle still maintained most of the original state. On the contrary, Castle Io was redesigned from the ground up with the latest security and highest quality materials. You never visited, but your father always made disappointed remarks about how the Io King was eager to tear down centuries of history for an iron fortress full of “useless” technological updates.
When the elevator dinged, the doors opened to a contemporary designed hallway. Black granite floors and gold accents in the wallpaper reminded you of what the penthouse floor of the royal hotel suite would look like. Dim circle warm lights lit the hallway as you quietly followed the King. As you shared the car and elevator ride before and now this hallway, you noticed a unique scent that lingered from him. He had a warm and spicy scent that was a mixture of rum, tobacco, and vanilla.
After a short walk down the hallway, the King stopped at the grandiose tar black wooden doors. There were elegant brass knobs as the handle. He biometrically scanned his hand on a glass panel next to the doors and there was a soft click signaling the doors were unlocked.
“We will make sure to add your biometrics tomorrow for access to my chambers.”
His intoxicating and addicting scent rushed towards you as he opened the doors. Unlike the modern and contemporary design of the hallway outside, most of his room still resembled the King’s chambers that was passed on for centuries. The dark stained wooden floors were covered in ornate deep purple carpets. The same deep purple color saturated the walls and the gold accents looked as if it was etched into the damask pattern like it was some precious fabric. The room was dimly lit with crystal chandeliers around the room.
His overly large four poster bed was stretched out in the middle of the room against the back wall. The rich gold and purple fabric hung from the bed frames.
His velvety whisper from the wedding ceremony played in your mind.
“I will be looking forward to tonight, my queen.”
You glanced around to the king who was starting to remove his formal wedding attire. He expertly removed his commander uniform and dropped it on the purple velvet couch. The numerous amount of medals on his uniform made a soft thud as it landed.
“Aren’t you going to undress?” He asked nonchalantly as he walked to the bathroom.
You froze in place not sure of what to do. You wanted to wash up and go to sleep after a long day like today, but you had no idea where your change of clothes were. Most importantly, the wedding night tradition was just as important as the wedding.
You were going to lose your virginity tonight.
You took off the king’s velvet jacket and placed it on the same couch he dropped his uniform. Unsure of what to do next, you started to make your way to the bathroom. Your heart was racing in your chest as you got closer.
At the same time, the King stepped out of the bathroom and your eyes widened in embarrassment. He was shirtless and was only wearing his black suit pants hanging from his hips. You had never seen a shirtless man before. Well, that wasn’t completely true, you studied Greek and Rome art enough to know what it looked like, but you never saw a live one in person. The only references you had was the Statue of David, but his body was so much more than that. His entire body was covered in muscle and each muscle was tight and hard. There were some faint scars around his body that you could catch in the dim light, but it was still a chiseled, marble perfection.
“Are you done staring?” He asked with an amused voice and you felt your face heat up.
“Oh- um-” You quickly diverted your glance to the carpet as you brought up your hands to the side of your face in embarrassment. “I’m sorry- I- I- didn’t mean to stare.”
You heard his footsteps move closer to you until you saw his shoes across from your feet. His hands moved over yours as he brought your face up to meet his. Your eyes searched for his familiar jade orbs and your heart was beating louder against your chest.
His rough lips collided with yours as he kissed you softly, biting at lips. The feeling caused little butterflies in your stomach as you reciprocated the kiss back tasting his lips with your tongue. His warm aroma saturated the air around you. When he felt your tongue, he immediately responded by erasing the space between your bodies and pushing his tongue into your needy mouth. His warm body felt comfortable against your body. He explored your mouth like he did at the wedding, but this time taking the measures to feel and learn every inch. You kissed him back, entering a piece of you into his unfamiliar and enticing territory.
By the time you both pulled away, you were both gasping for air. His forehead gently touched yours as your hands fell from your face. His right hand grabbed your left hand as he brought it up to his lips. He gently kissed your hand and held it in his. The warmth quickly traveled around your body like an infection.
“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “You have no idea how long I waited for you.”
---
Note: This chapter was getting too long and I had to cut it here. Next up is their first bed night, I promise. Thank you for the likes and comments on the prologue. Please share any feedback with me! Thank you for reading!
#Sebastian Stan#sebastian stan fandom#Sebastian Stan fic#sebastian x reader#Chris Evans#chrisevans#chris evans x y/n#chris evans fic#luniellar#luniellar fiction#reader fiction#romance#drama#love#love triangle#fanfiction#fairytale#celebrity crush#Bucky Barnes#female reader#bucky x y/n#y/n#bucky imagine#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#king#queen#royal wedding
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One life, I thought—a thousand deaths (Jon Antilles & Fay)
Summary: On Queyta, Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the only one to escape Durge and Ventress. One of the four legendary Masters, Jon Antilles, emerges from a lava stream despite knowing he’s going to die. He’s so sure of it that he crawls his way to Fay’s side, wanting to spend his last moments with the woman who he considers his Master. But she has other plans. Plans to make certain that Jon Antilles lives past today.
Warnings: Angst, Character Death, On-Screen Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, there’s both sorry, Self-Sacrifice, The Curse of Immortality, holy shit i made myself sad dude
Word Count: 2,191
Prompt: Angstpril Day 2 - Sole Survivor
Author’s Note: listen I know nobody knows about these characters that are in literally one comic but I have FEELINGS about them okay?? Jon is meant to be a badass mysterious enigma but he screams sad boi and Fay is like...the greatest cryptid Jedi ever, I love her. So, of course, I decided to make them and Knol and Nico suffer. (Also I know Obi-Wan survived the mission but the Sole Survivor still applies because Jon is the sole survivor of the four legendary Masters, just in case that wasn’t clear.) I just finished this today, so the editing is minimal.
Read on AO3
*
Using the Force as a shield is, in theory, one of the easier skills a Jedi utilizes. That is assuming, of course, that the Jedi in question is in good health, a decent mental state, and isn’t under a severe amount of stress. If said Jedi is, say, three feet into a pool of lava, already bearing grievous injuries and the weight of the deaths of two close companions, and feeling the fading life of another, the simple task, understandably, becomes something of a problem.
Jon has finally managed to pull the Force around him like a blanket. It protects him from the bubbling lake around him now, but the first few seconds he couldn’t pull it off were torture.
As it turns out, lava burns. It burns like shame, like failure, like the nightmares Jon used to have about his Master abandoning him on a planet in Hutt space for getting just a little too mouthy. And it hurts nearly as much.
“Fuck,” he hisses. He makes a rule of not cursing, but right now feels like an appropriate time to break it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He claws at the charred remains of his robes. Contrary to popular belief, lava doesn’t melt initially, as Jon now knows. Instead of melting, he burst into flames for the few seconds it took to pull himself together, though they felt like an eternity. Red, throbbing burns litter his entire body, his hair singed but miraculously intact thanks to his hood, which is entirely ashes now. The pain consumes his thoughts, making his shielding start to flicker in and out.
And then, through the debilitating agony, a touch of something familiar.
Jon’s eyes fly open. “Fay,” he whispers.
Her light is dimmer than it should be, not flickering in and out mischievously like it usually does. But still, she makes an effort to reach out, to check on him. It sends a sob up his throat.
“Hold on, Fay, hold on.”
Clenching his fists, he opens himself up to the Force. His actions are ones of faith, not of desperation, and he lets it flow through him as he takes a deep breath. The idea of using one of his Master’s abilities would normally make him nauseous, but the disgust doesn’t even cross his mind this time as he prepares to teleport. He thinks of that open, flat space of rock that Obi-Wan and Fay ran to, their enemies close behind. Focusing fiercely on that distant image, he pulls on the Force and folds the two points—
Jon collapses on solid ground with a heaving gasp.
Every inch of his body protests the change, especially his knees, which burn when they make contact with the ground, but somehow he manages to ignore his own complaints.
Fay isn’t far, or she shouldn’t be, at least. The distance between them seems gaping when he tries to move.
Still, her light is fading fast. And he wants to be by her side.
So, Jon Antilles crawls on hands and knees, dragging his body across sharp stones and past bubbling streams of lava. He aches with each movement and cries out when it becomes too much, but he persists regardless. Something in him knows it may be the last thing he ever does.
Finally, he sees her.
She’s sprawled out, her chest hardly moving as her breathing becomes shallow. Her near-golden hair is filthy with ash and her eyes are dim. She’s hardly herself, Jon thinks, and feels his stomach sink.
Hundreds of years the great Master Fay has lived and breathed. Hundreds of years and he’s going to watch her die today.
“Jon,” she calls out weakly.
He pulls himself to her side, grabbing her hand with his own shaky ones. “I’m here, Master.”
They only met when he was a teenager, but he feels as if he’s known her all his life. They’ve travelled the Outer Rim together, following the Force, for decades now and he’s never regretted a second of it. In all but title, Fay is his Master. She was always better than Dark Woman, even when the bar was six feet under. The only record with both their names will be at the Temple, where the dead are listed, a handful of mission reports with other Jedi, and the stories the younglings share of the 4 legendary, nomadic Masters.
“Knol and Nico,” Fay breathes out, “they’re one with the Force.”
Jon grimaces. “Yes. And the Force is with us.”
She laughs, breathy and half-choked. It’s an old lesson, familiar and grounding. “And so too are they,” she adds.
“Where’s Obi-Wan?”
“Gone, with the cure.” She smiles just a little. “The Republic fights another day.”
Suddenly grim, he squeezes her hand. “But not us.”
A pause.
“But not us.”
The silence overwhelms them. The wind whistles in the distance, carrying with it nothing but smoke and ashes. Queyta isn’t the best place to die, Jon thinks absently. He would rather it have been someplace with flowers.
“I wish it could’ve been Jedha.”
He almost jumps at her voice, but her words jarr a surprised laugh from his sore lungs. “Jedha? I thought you hated cold planets.”
“Oh, yes, but not that one. Force, I should have taken you. The Force there is so...so strong, so pure, you can feel the kyber from the surface,” she explains, staring straight up at him. If anyone else were to gaze so intensely at his scars, he’d be uncomfortable, but she’s safe. She’s family. “And the Guardians of the Whills are so kind. I met a young one of theirs some decades ago. You two would’ve gotten along.”
Jon laughs a little. “You’re always looking to find me friends, Fay.”
Her smile turns sad and she lifts a hand to his face, letting it rest on his cheek. “You’re so young,” she whispers. “Too young to be so lonely, Jon.”
He shuts his eyes, lets himself be comforted by her touch. When he opens them again, she still has that gut-wrenching look on her face. He places his hand on top of hers, unsurprised at how cold they are despite the blistering heat.
“I’m not lonely,” he promises.
Jon doesn’t say that it’s because of her, Knol, and Nico, but Fay picks up the thought anyway. Her eyes fill with tears.
“I have watched so many I love die.” Fay’s voice wavers as she says it. He realises that it’s the first time he’s ever heard it do that. To be honest, he’d thought it was impossible. “Taken by age, by Darkness, by foolishness. Never have I met a soul as good as yours, Jon. And never a Jedi so worthy of love.”
“Fay…”
She shakes her head. “Your Master did not deserve you. The galaxy did not deserve you.”
Pulling her hand away from him, Jon squeezes it. “You did,” he says firmly, though his voice cracks.
“I hope so,” she admits with a rueful laugh. “I hope so.”
He smiles weakly. “I wish you’d found me first. But I thin-I think the Force knew when I needed you to save me. Because you did save me, Master. I could never thank you enough.”
She takes his word silently, holding his hand even tighter. “You never needed to.”
“Thank you,” he says now, even though it’s useless.
Fay’s grey eyes meet his pale ones and suddenly, she’s distressed. “You’re so young,” she repeats.
But Jon can see that she means something else this time.
“Not too young to do my duty.”
“Too young to die doing it.”
Jon thinks of Tan Yuster, one of four Padawans to die on Geonosis. The Jedi have experienced great loss these past months since the beginning of the war and so many so much younger than Jon have died in battle, the clones included. Of course, to Fay, they all may as well be children.
“I will go proudly into the Force,” he promises her. At your side.
Fay’s expression twists. “No.”
He scoffs. “I don’t think we have a say in it.”
“The Force let me live this long,” she says suddenly, as if it’s a realisation, “longer than I should have. Obi-Wan is gone, I’ve done what good I can, except...you’re here. Why are we here?”
“To say goodbye,” Jon offers.
She shakes her head, then tries to sit up, struggling until her would-be Padawan helps pull her up. “I’m done with goodbyes.”
“What are you—?”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish his question. Fay presses their foreheads together and grabs his hands with a newfound energy that terrifies him. Chills go up his spine when her presence in the Force covers him like a blanket. Warmth climbs up his hands, then his arms, and with a glance down he finds that his skin is healing.
“Fay, no!” he cries, trying to shove her away.
She only tightens her grip. “Stay still, Jon.”
She sounds more like herself, certain and unwavering. Jon would be happy-crying if he weren’t horrified. He tries to drag himself out of her grip, but she’s impossibly strong. Her healing creeps up his entire body, soothing his burns, though scars remain behind.
“No, no, no—FAY! Fay, stop it!” His screams turn to sobs. “You’ll die, stop—!”
“I already am,” she says, just as certain in her abilities as her fate. “But you don’t have to.”
Trembling, his attempts are weaker now but still there. “Please, please,” he begs. “Not without you!”
Tears stream down her cheeks. She allows herself a moment of weakness; she opens her eyes and meets his tearful gaze, remembering the teenager she first met. He was so scared and so brave. And for a moment, she’d thought he must be a ghost. But no, he was just a boy. For the first time in a long time, she had let herself build a bridge between them, like Knol and Nico before him, even knowing she would have to watch him die one day.
Now, she thinks with fierce stubbornness, she won’t have to.
It feels like her life is leaving her for him, though she knows it’s just fading into the Force. It’s to it that she speaks, the cosmic energy she’s dedicated her long, long life to.
“If anyone is deserving of the time you’ve given me,” she gasps out, “it is Jon Antilles.”
She doesn’t see the horror in Jon’s face, but she can feel it in his quiet Force-presence, so subdued. He hides himself on purpose and it truly breaks her heart. His light is so strong. The galaxy is all the better for his existence.
“I don’t want this! Fay, I don’t—let me die, please—”
Fay only lifts her head and kisses his forehead, the sort of gentle gesture a mother might give her son. “One day,” she promises. It rings with truth, with the strength of the Force behind it. “But not today.”
Jon cries out and tries to rip himself away, but freezes when pure light washes over him. The warmth he’s always associated with Fay soaks into him, healing all his wounds in an instant and rejuvenating his fading energy. Stars burst before his eyes, like he’s seeing into the very universe beyond Queyta, beyond what he’s meant to see with his petty Human eyes. In another instant, it’s gone and Fay is slumping over.
She falls to the ground with a thump, a noise that jolts Jon back into focus.
“Master!” he sobs.
He pulls her up from the ground with the sickening realisation that she’s a complete deadweight. She’s limp in his arms, already paling. Desperate, Jon pushes her hair out of her face and finds...nothing. Her eyes are dull. With his fingers on her wrist, he can’t feel a pulse.
“Fay?”
The steady beat of her Force-presence is gone, a gaping hole in his universe. Their bond, one strong enough to resemble a training bond, is shattered, a physical pain that throbs in his skull.
Jon begins to hyperventilate, his sudden gasps for breath burning his now-perfect lungs.
“Come back,” he begs Fay’s corpse. “Fuck, please. Please, come back.”
He pulls her into his lap, clutching her robes like a child being left behind for the first time. It doesn’t hurt to move anymore and, thank the Force for it because his entire body shakes with the force of his cries.
Overwhelmed with grief he’s never experienced, Jon wails into Fay’s shoulder, rocking back and forth. The agonizing sound rings across the valley, a noise like torture.
It’s only now that he feels the frayed edges of his bonds with Knol and Nico.
He screams again, his vocal cords protesting it sharply.
The last time Jon was this alone, he was a child. And now, he’s right back where he was before he met his three closest companions. Except now, now, he knows what it means to love and to lose. It aches. It aches like nothing he’s ever felt.
“Please,” he whispers hoarsely. “I can’t—I need you. What do I do? What am I supposed to do?”
He never gets an answer.
*
River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme
Masterlist
#sw#star wars#sw fic#star wars fic#angstpril 2021#day two#sole survivor#sw imagine#star wars imagine#sw oneshot#star wars oneshot#jon antilles#master fay#fay#jon antilles & fay#knol ven'nari#nico diath#star wars legends#river#rivika#generallynerdy#one life a thousand deaths#angstpril2021
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Solar Power Prompt List
a collection of prompts set to Lorde’s newest album, Solar Power — if you reblog this, please consider sending a prompt to whoever you reblog it from!
Now if you're looking for a savior, well that's not me
You need someone to take your pain for you? Well, that's not me
We're all broken and sad, where are the dreams that we had?
I just hope the sun will show us the path
My boy behind me, he's taking pictures
Come one, come all, I'll tell you my secrets, I’m kinda like a prettier Jesus
Forget all of the tears that you've cried, it’s over
It's a new state of mind, are you coming, my baby?
I don't miss the poison arrows aimed directly at my head
It got hard to grow up with your cool hand around my neck
It's all just a dream, I wanna wake up
I love this life that I have, but I wonder sometimes what I'm missing
Well, my hot blood's been burning for so many summers now, it’s time to cool it down wherever that leads
Cause all the beautiful girls, they will fade like the roses
All the times, they will change, it'll all come around
But the sun has to rise
Cause all the music you loved at sixteen, you'll grow out of
Spend all the evenings you can with the people who raised you, cause all the times they will change, it'll all come around
To the ones who came before us, all the golden ones who were lifted on a wing
We had no idea the dreams we had were far too big
But how can I love what I know I am gonna lose?
Dancing with my girls, only having two drinks then leaving
It's a funny thing, thought you'd never gain self control
Guess it's been a while since you last said sorry
Crying in the dark at your best friends' parties
You've had enough, gotta turn the lights up, go home
Couldn't wait to turn fifteen, then you blink and it's been ten years
Growing up a little at a time then all at once
Everybody wants the best for you, but you gotta want it for yourself
You can take 'em if you want 'em, these are just secrets from a girl, who's seen it all
Remember all the hurt you would feel when you weren't desired?
Remember what you thought was grief before you got the call?
Baby girl, no one's gonna feel the pain for you
You're gonna love again, so just try staying open, and when the time comes, you'll fall
Your dreams and inner visions, all your mystical ambitions, they won't let you down
Your emotional baggage can be picked up at Carousel Number 2, please be careful so that it doesn't fall onto someone you love
If I had to break it down, I'd say it's the way you love to dance
I thought I was a genius, but now I'm twenty two
It's starting to feel like all I know how to do is put on a suit and take it away
I've got hundreds of gowns, I've got paintings in frames, and a throat that fills with panic every festival day
I should've known when your favourite record was the same as my father's you'd take me down
I guess I'll always be this way, swallowed up by the words and halfway to space
There by the fire, you offered your hand, and as I took it, I loved you, the boy with the plan
You felled me clean as a pine, the man with the axe, and the light in his eyes
We've been through so many hard times, I'm writing a love song for you, baby
Just another phase you're rushing on through
Go all New Age, outrunning your blues
Fifty gleaming chances in a row, and I watch you flick them down like dominoes
I know a girl who knows another girl who knows the woman that you hurt
Just another phase you're shooting on through, the whole world changes right around you
Must feel good being Mr. Start Again
Everyone knows that you're too good for me, don't they?
I'm a cheater, I lie and I'm shy, b ut you like to say hello to total strangers
But every perfect summer's got to say goodnight
I used to love the party, now I'm not alright, drinking in the dark, take me home tonight
I've got so much to tell you and not enough time to do it in
But every perfect summer's gotta take its flight, I’ll still watch you run through the winter light
Won't somebody, anybody be the leader of a new regime?
Can't seem to find what's wrong
The whole world is letting me down
Don't you think the early 2000s seem so far away?
I can't feel a thing, I keep looking at my mood ring
Tell me how I'm feeling, floating away
Take me to some kinda place
Watch the sun set, look back on my life
I just wanna know, will it be alright?
I know you're scared, so was I, but all will be revealed in time
I can make anything real
In the future, if I have a daughter, will she have my waist or my widow's peak? My dreamer's disposition or my wicked streak?
Like her mother when she was a girl
Was enlightenment found? No, but I'm trying
Taking it one year at a time
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Pairing: MadaraTobirama
Word count: 4879
Soulmate au: The one where every pair of soulmates finds each other in different ways or through different soulmate tropes
Follow the link or read it under the cut!
KO-FI and commission info in the header!
Chapter 221
Watching the client who had come begging them for assistance with a typically ridiculous problem, Tobirama wondered what it would be like to have such an obvious connection to his soulmate as this man did. His already short sleeves were tied back even further as though to purposefully display as much as possible of the golden words flowing down the back of one arm, a greeting that must have been the first words his other half spoke to him. To have such easy proof of one’s connection, to know from the earliest ages that there was someone out there and how to find them, Tobirama could only wonder at the security this man must have felt in his bond from the moment he understood that it was waiting for him. It must have been nice.
It was also quite the pity for whoever had been the one to speak those words.
Privately Tobirama could admit that a small bit of the attitude he could feel bubbling to the surface was motivated by jealousy, petty retribution against someone who had something he wanted for himself. Out loud, of course, he wouldn’t be caught dead even hinting at such an admission.
“This is all very fascinating, Kirimoto-san, but I can’t help noting you have yet to explain what any of it has to do with Konohagakure. Were you perchance hoping to commission someone to record your story? Contracting a scribe would only be a D-rank mission, not the A-rank you proposed.” Lifting one eyebrow in judgement was probably going a little too far. If only he could bring himself to care.
“I was only just getting to that, Senju-sama,” their client spluttered. Anger flashed across his face but luckily for his continued health he was smart enough not to say anything. “The mission I came to contract your shinobi for is of vital importance! My son is a diamond among chaff; he deserves only the best! If the woman pressing suit upon him is truly so weak-hearted as to look at other men then she must be chased away!”
Tobirama blinked slowly. “And you wish us to…?”
“Why, to bring proof of her infidelity of course! I will pay the full price of an A-rank mission for two of your finest shinobi to approach her in disguise and seduce her away from my son! If her heart is as impure as I think it is then she will no doubt fall for such base tricks.”
He puffed himself up with the same false importance bred in to every idiot that had ever been born in the capital city, entirely ignorant of how little effect that would have on the one he was speaking to. When Tobirama got ahold of his brother he was going to throttle the man for taking today of all days off and leaving his duties to the next in command. Technically Madara would have been the next in command if he weren’t currently at home recovering from pushing himself too hard during training. No doubt that was exactly why Hashirama had taken the day off. Tobirama hoped the two idiots drowned in a teapot for making him deal with this particular client.
Despite his petty irritation he didn’t actually want to offend the man. Or at least not badly enough for the idiot to file a complaint that would bring another lecture down on his head about playing nice with their patrons. Several slow deep breaths helped bolster his patience until he could be certain none of the contempt he felt for this utter waste of time might show on his face; only then did he speak again.
“If you wish to pay for an A-rank mission then we will gladly accept your commission. Do you have any other information that might help us choose the two best people to accept this task?”
“You! I want one of them to be you!” For some reason Kirimoto-san felt the need to rise from his chair and point like there could be any mistaking who he was speaking to. They were, after all, the only people in the room. “I’ve heard all the rumors! Women from here to the capitol cry themselves to sleep every night over the hearts you break!”
Tobirama could feel one of his eyes twitching. He’d heard a lot of rumors about himself before but this one was new. Him? A country-wide heartbreaker? That went beyond laughable in to the territory of utterly absurd. If anything most rumors called him uptight and cold. Which, in all honesty, was certainly more true than the opposite. The last heart he broke was probably well back in his adolescence when one of his clanmates had taken some unnatural interest in him and refused to be turned aside with any gentler tactics than a flat out shredding of her ego.
Clinging hard to his temper, Tobirama bit down savagely on his own tongue before asking, “I don’t suppose I could change your mind on that? My duties here are many and rumors are easily blown out of proportion. Seduction is… not one of my strengths, shall we say.”
“Do...I want to know?” Hashirama’s voice asked in the same moment the door swung open. Their illustrious Hokage recoiled almost as soon as he stepped in to the room, eyes wide and confused upon being met with Tobirama’s acidic glare. Behind him trundled Madraa who looked a hell of a lot more put together than he had when Tobirama bullied him in to going home the night before with instructions to recuperate before he passed out over his own paperwork.
“Ah Hokage-sama!” their client bowed hastily.
“Hello! Um, honeypot mission?” The cringe in Hashirama’s voice was as obvious as the pain it caused him to think of his sibling in any sort of intimate context.
Unfortunately Kirimoto-san managed to speak first. “Senju-sama here has agreed to assist me in the matter I wrote to you about! All we need is one mo- ah! Perfect! You’re perfect! Pray tell, what is your name, miss?”
If nothing else. Tobirama decided while he was busily choking on his own tongue, that right there was worth the shame of having to take part in this ridiculous farce. Madara, to no one’s surprise, didn’t seem inclined to agree. His expression was particularly thunderous when he crossed his arms and leveled their client with a deadly stare.
“Uchiha Madara,” he growled. To Kirimoto-san’s credit he didn’t so much as flinch before breaking in to a massive grin.
“Even more perfect! A man! And here I thought I would have to pay extra for you to dress as one. Most excellent. It absolutely must be the two of you!”
Madara sneered. “I don’t think s-”
“Well now!” Hashirama spoke over him. “I’m sure you understand, my dear sir, that these two are my most valuable shinobi both administratively and in battle prowess. To allow both of them to be deployed on the same mission would be a serious detriment to our productivity - not to mention our security in the event of an attack.”
“But I must have them! Only them!”
“It simply doesn’t seem feasible. To fill the large spaces they would leave empty would mean keeping several extra people on active duty and I’m afraid the cost…” With a face of carefully constructed regret Hashirama sighed and Tobirama took a moment to reluctantly admire his brother’s ingenuity. People could say what they wanted about his overly active emotions. Very few ever realized how easily he manipulated them entirely because of that same buffoonery veiling their eyes to the wily genius underneath.
Kami forbid the idiot ever realize Tobirama admired that quality in him, though.
“Can I not convince you?” Kirimoto-san begged. “If it is a matter of cost I can of course make it worth your while to send them with me! Name your price, Hokage-sama, and I will pay it! Anything to ensure that my precious son lives his life only with a woman who will never betray him!”
The poor sod didn’t even seem to realize the mistake he’d just made as Hashirama turned to him with a beatific smile on his face and dollar signs in his eyes.
When he finally managed to leave the office Kirimoto-san’s face was as pained as his poor wallet was empty. Tobirama couldn’t find it in himself to even pity the man. Not when his own fate had been sealed with more than twenty thousand ryō above the typical asking price of an A-ranked mission. Regrettably, he hadn’t actually been lying when he said that seduction was not one of his strengths but apparently he would have to at least make an effort. It was hard to choose whether he regretted more that it would be a woman several years after he had finally accepted his preferences in the opposite direction or that, of all people, Madara would be there to watch him make such an utter fool out of himself.
“How exactly”-he demanded the moment their client was far enough down the hall not to overhear them-”do you propose I disguise myself? At the risk of showing my own ego, I’ll remind you that I do have rather distinctive looks.”
“You’re not the only one,” Madara growled with both hands going almost protectively to his extraordinary mane of hair.
Hashirama boomed a laugh that lacked even a shred of sympathy. “Oh I’m sure you two will figure something out! You could always wear a henge!”
“And if she’s chakra-sensitive? I notice you failed to even ask about that!” Madara reached out to smack his best friend across the back of the head for such an oversight. Familial bonds dictated that Tobirama should defend his sibling but, as he rather wished he was close enough to do that himself, he opted to pretend he’d seen nothing.
“Sorry! Sorry! I’m sure we can work out something that will hide your hair. Like a big scarf or a hood or something you could tuck it in to!” Hashirama drooped and clasped both hands under his chin. “Please don’t be mad at me!”
“That still leaves me,” Tobirama pointed out.
Both of the squabbling friends turned to him in consideration for several long heartbeats. Hashirama spoke up first with a bright smile. “I know! We can cover your tattoos with makeup! Geisha use white makeup all the time, I’m sure we can procure you some in a discreet manner!”
“Covering my face won’t do much good if my hair is just going to stick out like a fox in a henhouse. The only bloodlines left that produce hair this color are all shinobi clans and as much as I would consider it a complement to be mistaken for a Hatake, that wouldn’t exactly help me fly under the radar now would it?” he didn’t bother to list all of the other shinobi clans he would likely take insult at being mistaken for but his brother, thankfully, had enough tact to skirt that entirely.
Instead he went even deeper in to stupid territory because of course he did.
“You could dye your hair!” he crowed as if with the triumph of a great idea.
“I hate you,” Tobirama told him.
Without another word he swept out of the office, calling over his brother’s whining protests that since he was here anyway he might as well finish his own duties for the day. More than anything he was angered that Hashirama’s suggestion had actually been a logical solution and in the depths of his private heart he admitted that his irritation stemmed entirely from self-image. He didn’t want to dye his hair. He liked his hair. Call him an egomaniac but he rather enjoyed standing out from the masses.
Sending a clone to go pick out some dye from the infiltration core’s private storage room felt somehow less painful than doing it himself. At least when he received the memories of it the deed would already be done. Tobirama completed the handful of duties left unfinished at the tower and then left to wait at home for his clone to return. The first thing he did upon dispelling his copy was sit in his living room to study the instructions on the back of the dreaded box in excruciating detail. The only thing worse than going through with this idiocy would be somehow doing it wrong; this was already going to end in mockery one way or another, he didn’t need to give anyone more ammo than necessary. After making sure he understood exactly how to use the stuff Tobirama spun the box around again to study the color.
Maybe he wouldn’t look entirely terrible with red hair. If the stars aligned in just the right way he might be able to convince himself he looked a bit like his sister in law. The Uzumaki, now there was a clan he would feel no shame for having a connection to and it would certainly be a logical assumption. They did have a rather sizable civilian population.
Turning the box side to side in an effort to determine whether he thought the color looked like a natural one, he couldn’t help but let his eyes be drawn to the golden letters embossed near the very top, an elegant curling script that greatly resembled the letters Kirimoto-san bore along one arm. What would he do, Tobirama wondered, if at last he managed to discover his own soulmate and he wasn’t able to reach out because of this? He’d never been all that fond of undercover missions for just this reason. To meet his soulmate while he didn’t even look like himself, to risk that they might fall in love with a falsity. A deep sigh escaped him and Tobirama spun the box around so he wouldn’t have to look at the letters anymore. Everything about this mission was stupid - including the emotions he was letting it drag out of him. Best to just get this over with before he got too maudlin about things so far out of his control.
All told, including the time he took to pause and investigate the chemical compounds, the dying process took just over an hour and Tobirama refused to look at himself in the mirror until he had thoroughly rinsed the mixture out of his hair and let the whole thing dry completely. Only then did he finally approach the bathroom vanity with trepidation and lift his eyes to take in the horror of what he’d done. He had just enough time to cringe in distaste before the front door of his home slammed open with a bang that ricocheted down the hall.
“Tobi?” Hashirama’s voice called out to him in an oddly strangled tone. “You here?”
“Unfortunately.” At his reply footsteps hurried closer.
“We may have to apply a slight change of plaaaa-....ns...oh my.”
“Anija I swear if you finish that sentence after I only just finished this nonsense”-Tobirama jerked an angry thumb at his own mangled hair-“I will make you regret ever being born.”
His brother stared at him. Stared some more. Blinked several times and then continued to stare, all while Tobirama’s ire grew closer and closer to the boiling point. Finally he drew in a breath that rattled ominously.
“Come with me,” he murmured shortly before spinning on one heel and marching back towards the front door.
“Now hold on! Anija, what the hell?”
Annoyingly, Hashirama did not stop. His only concession was to pause long enough for Tobirama to tear an old jacket out of his front closet and pull the hood up tightly. Just because lots of other strangers were going to see him in this state didn’t mean he had to let all of Konoha in on his shame. Vanity, apparently, would need to be added on to the list of character flaws he hadn’t even known afflicted him until this thrice blasted village was built.
Where the hell they were going he couldn’t tell since the hood of his jacket was pulled so tight around his head that it obscured most of the world around him. On sense alone he guessed they were bound in a general southern direction but for the life of him he couldn’t imagine what existed to the south that had to do with his disguise or suddenly needed to be attended to the moment his brother saw him. Tobirama did try to ask, of course, but for once in his life Hashirama seemed to have lost his capacity for words. If only he could be like that more often. Well, if only he could be like that any other time but for now when Tobirama needed answers that none of his increasingly irritated questions were getting him. He did recognize right away when they entered the Uchiha district. Walking past the uchiwa-embossed gates always felt much like stepping in from the cold to a place with a thousand warm fires all around him. It was, he hated to admit, a very comforting place to be for a sensor like him.
It was also a great relief at the moment; Hashirama might profess to love the whole world but there were very few people he was actually close with and only one of them lived within the Uchiha compound. Tobirama frowned at the inside of his hood. It would make sense for them to go see Madara right now, he was the other half of this utterly ridiculous undercover mission, but it made no sense at all for Hashirama to be in this much of a tither over his best friend unless something had gone terribly wrong in the past hour since they had all been together.
How much trouble could one man get in to within the confines of their own village?
Despite how close the two of them were it was still a mild surprise when Hashirama let them both in to Madara’s house without so much as knocking. Tobirama wracked his brain trying to remember whether Izuna still lived with his brother while the two of them made their way down the hall. Since they were inside now, safe from the judging eyes of the general public, Tobirama allowed his fingers to loosen their hold on the material of his hood until he had enough vision to take in the home of the Uchiha clan head. Much more spartan than he had expected. If he were taking this first look a handful of years ago he would have expected bloodied weapons to line the walls and plaques bearing the heads of notable kills. He’d long grown past such childish assumptions but if he were honest he still would have expected this place to be a little more plush, a little more befitting the head of such a large and lucrative clan.
“Mads? Mads I’m back. Are you...okay if we come in?” Hashirama paused at the beginning of the hallway to gently wrap his knuckles against a plain shoji screen.
“End me now,” Madara’s miserable voice drifted out. “If a single person in my clan sees this I will never hear the end of it.”
“We’re coming in, okay?”
Hashirama waited just a moment longer to give his friend time for yelling if he was truly so opposed to them entering. When no protests came he nodded once and then opened the door, pulling Tobirama behind him as he walked forward in to the room.
Strange as it was to find himself in Uchiha Madara’s bedroom of all places Tobirama didn’t have time to even look around to see if the decor here was as barren as the rest of the house. He didn’t even have the time to ruminate on the odd places life had taken him just today. The moment he stepped inside the room all of his attention was riveted to the figure huddled on the bed with face in hands. Logic told him that was Madara. It sounded like him. Felt like him. His eyes, however, must have been playing tricks on him.
“The...hell...is going on?” Tobirama pulled his free arm away from Hashirama’s grasp to poke at him with confusion. “I thought you said he was going with the scarf idea? How the hell did you get a dye that color to saturate this much hair in such a short time? And for that matter, why on earth did you give him the same color as me?”
“Oh I didn’t do this,” Hashirama said.
“So he did it to himself?”
“No, I think you did it.”
Tobirama blinked slowly, one eyebrow rising. “I most certainly did not. You saw me when you came to get me, you know exactly what I’ve been doing since I left the tower.”
In his indignation at being accused he missed the sharp movement of Madara’s head snapping up to look at him for the first time since he entered the home. Busy as he was jamming a finger in to his brother’s side, he didn’t see those eyes zero in on him like a kunai finding its target but he sure did feel the weight of them. At first he ignored it - this was hardly the first time he’d been stared at - but when Hashirama managed to bat his finger away and pointedly indicated the man whose house they had just invaded he finally looked over.
“Can I help you?” he muttered, instinctively defensive under that much scrutiny.
“What do you mean the same color as you?”
His first reflex was to pull the hood tighter around his head. Then he realized how stupid that was. If the two of them were going on the same mission then obviously Madara would have to see him in this state at some point - and if anyone was going to understand the pain of having to dye his hair such a wildly unsuitable shade it would be the man whose head currently matched his own. A heavy sigh of defeat escaped him before, with great effort, he finally allowed his fingers to unclench so the hood of his jacket could fall back to reveal that his hair indeed was a perfect match for the ridiculous color of Madara’s. He expected the man to stare, of course. What he didn’t expect was for his jaw to drop and one hand to reach out blindly for Hashirama.
“You,” Madara croaked. “Go away. Now. I...I need to talk to...just go away!”
“Okay.” In a move possibly more surprising than anything else that had happened so far, Hashirama turned to leave the room as easily as that, not a word of protest. Tobirama watched him go with both eyes wide and blinking.
“I...how did you do that? I’ve never seen him leave so easily in my life. How did you make him do that!?”
Bed springs creaked and groaned like a symphony to announce Madara’s rise from the bed, eyes still locked on to Tobirama with all the intensity of the hawks he so enjoyed flying. He looked just as silly with the wrong hair color as Tobirama felt he himself did but something told him that mockery would not go over very well just now no matter that Madara was one of the few who could give as good as he got. The arguments they got in to were usually some of the highest points of Tobirama’s week.
“You dyed your hair.” Unfortunately his intelligence didn’t always shine through quite as obviously, such as moments like now when he felt compelled to state the very obvious.
“So did you,” Tobirama said with one eyebrow raised in judgment.
“No I didn’t.”
After a pause Tobirama canted his head to one side and lifted the other brow. “Well then I suppose I’ll need to get my eyes checked very soon.”
“No! Shut up, you don’t get it! I didn’t do this!”
“You’re claiming...what? Some kind of hair dye bandit snuck in and colored your hair when you weren’t looking?”
“I think it means we’re soulmates, you absolute fuck!”
“Oh.”
There were dozens of responses he could pretend he’d been expecting and that one would not have been even close to getting on the list. Tobirama opened his mouth only to close it, thoughts racing over each other in a jumbled heap because he knew exactly what Madara was getting at. Of course he did.
And of course the universe would be so petty as to give them a way to find each other only through humiliating themselves. Sometimes he really did hate other people for how easily they discovered their bonds. Not him, though, oh no. He couldn’t have a red string tied to his pinkie, he couldn’t have been born with the first words his soulmate would say to him imprinted on his skin, he couldn’t even have the moment of unquestionable knowing when he heard his partner’s voice for the first time. Because it was him and because it was Madara they just had to do things the hard way, waiting until one of them dyed their hair so the change of color could be reflected on their other half.
“That color looks awful on you,” was all he could think to say; perhaps a little too honest but from the very start of peace the two of them had silently agreed to never pull their punches with each other. Madara stared at him in disbelief for a half dozen heartbeats until without warning he burst in to raucous laughter.
“Seriously?” he demanded. “That’s all you have to say?”
Tobirama threw both of his hands in the air. “Well what do you want me to say? It’s not like I have some big speech prepared just in case I find out the other half of my soul has been riding around in you this whole time!”
“No? That’s almost surprising. You’re usually prepared for pretty much anything.” The smile on Madara’s face gentled his words from insults to fond teasing and Tobirama wondered how long the possibilities of this had been hiding right under his nose.
“I didn’t really want to go on this mission in the first place,” he mused. “Now I really don’t want to.”
“Because we match and it’s incredibly obvious that we shouldn’t?”
“No, dumb ass, because I just discovered my soulmate and I’d rather like some time to process that.” Tobirama rolled his eyes but there was a very telling hint of a smile on his own face as well. How could there not be?
Madara hummed and shifted his weight, coincidentally ending up just a little bit closer when he settled, though Tobirama chose not to point that out. “How much do you think it would take to convince your brother not to send us out?”
“Oh probably about a thousand yen more than whatever Kirimoto-san paid him.”
“Hn. I’d have to dip in to the clan coffers. And then I’d have to listen to the elders bitch about squandering clan funds. Ugh.” Madara’s nose wrinkled. Tobirama mirrored him if for no other reason than annoyance that he’d never really noticed how adorable that was. If he looked back on all the past interactions they’d had he would probably be able to drum up a thousand different clues that they were meant to be together.
Good thing he wasn’t the type to look back. Self reflection was so boring.
The problem of his brother forcing them to go through with this mission still was just something they would have to figure out later. Probably a very quick later since they were still expected to leave some time later that same day but still, certainly a problem Tobirama was willing to put off solving until he absolutely had to. If Hashirama was really so dead set on making them do this when he very clearly understood what situation was happening then he could come get them himself.
“Spot of tea?” Tobirama looked around as though he might spot a kitchen through the bedroom walls.
“Ah, yeah, I guess it would be polite of me to get you some, huh?”
Madara rocked back on to his heels and looked towards the door as well, the perfect opportunity for Tobirama to really look at him and take in all the little details he normally wouldn’t in another person, the shape of his jawline and the tiny amounts of baby fat that had never fully left his cheeks.
“It isn’t like you to be concerned about being polite,” he pointed out.
When his soulmate turned back to reveal an openly amused grin he thought maybe the universe did know what it was doing - but he was still a little annoyed that it had made things so difficult for him. Also quite annoyed that they were likely going to have to see this ridiculous mission through. What an absolute shame that he finally discovered his soulmate only for the poor man to bear witness to his complete lack of seduction skills all in the same day. He hoped Hashirama had already started running because he was going to murder his own brother for this.
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Christmas with the Waverleys ❄️: Part I
A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing💫💛? So I really wanted to do something for the Holidays and this is what I came up with. Writing this was a really joyful process, so I really hope that this brings a smile on your face💛
If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going 💕
Thank you so very much @caseyvalentineramsey for prereading and @jamespotterthefirst for prereading and helping me up with the editing. You guys are life-savers and I love you💛💛
Characters: For this part, the characters are my OH MC(Dr. Pooja Sharma) and OH F!OC (Dr. Alexandra Walton)
Word Count: 1467
Rating: General
Prompts :-
CFWC(@choicesficwriterscreations) Winter Season Prompt #6: Character A doesn’t like the holidays. B loves it. Will B try to find out why or convince A to celebrate it?
@wackydrabbles #74 (Will appear in bold): What do you want me to say?
@choicesdecemberchallenge Day 23: Friendship
December 23rd
The riffling of sheets, concomitant typing on the keyboard and the gentle tapping of a blue ballpoint pen.
Aha! Here it is!
The dainty curling up of her lips purported that her quest had been prosperous.
The young girl let down her brunette hair as the muffled voices of Boston's December traffic infiltrating the quiet beige Living room subserved as a token of the celebratory season.
With balmy footfalls, she went to the bay windows of her residence, moving the white satin draperies and looked down to the provocative streets.
Festivals. Gaieties. They were not her thing.
For her, they were needless gatherings, wastage of capital and time.
Christmas, New Year, never held much of a significance in her life.
No matter how much she relished seeing all the people fortified with holiday disposition, she never aspired to be one of them.
Engrossed in thoughts, she nearly plummeted at the unforeseen chime of the doorbell.
A deep breath.
Another one.
And another.
And the abrupt adrenaline rush faded past as she reacquired her equanimity.
An agile glance at the wooden digital timekeeper on the davenport told her that it was 10:30 in the morning.
Mmm-hmm.
An unlikely time for someone to visit.
Must be some parcel posts.
Moving to the door, she clemently swivelled the knob and-
"LEX!"
"Poo?"
Alex was comprehensively purblind as to why Pooja would have come here at 10:30 am, groomed as if she was the anthropomorphism of celebratory spirit.
Not acknowledging her interrogating glimpses, Pooja went inside. Alex accompanied.
And then, Pooja's eyes fell on the vademecum and jotter sitting on the settee.
Hmmm, so they are my rivals.
"Poo? What's the matter? Has something goofed?"
Alex still had no ounce of idea about all that was transpiring.
"IS SOMETHING WRONG? Lex, EVERYTHING IS WRONG!"
Pooja roared as she denoted towards the current occupants of the couch.
"What is wrong with my manual?"
"Lex, ITS CHRISTMASTIDE! You, sitting here and swotting is Inequity!"
"Poo-"
Pooja held up a hand to prevent her from proceeding further. She knew unequivocally what Lex was going to utter. That she shunned celebrations. All this was a waste and the record of criticisms moving on & on.
She had endured her overtures the prevenient time.
But this time? This time, circumstances would change. Alexandra Walton would be carousing Christmas, no matter how absurd it appeared.
"Lex. I understand, okay. I know you loathe fiestas. But-"
"Now don't begin convincing me and convert to a walking, talking book of 101 reasons to savour festivities."
Nah.
This wasn't going to work. Even if she convinced her, she knew better that she would not heed in.
So, what to do now? Hmmm…
Pooja's mind went back to the discussion she had the previous night.
"Are you kidding me?"
"Of course not! Look!"
The Portrayal of Numerous ocular evidence of the case were placed in front of her.
"So, you're stating that she is here, in Boston and that all this is gonna work?"
"Exactly! Believe me, Poo, you will not regret it. Just give it a try!"
This was the only alternative. She ought to do it. It seems implausible, but the stuff she saw with her optics, felt versus her skin, couldn't be a deceit, could it?
"I need a promise."
"Promise? Wow! What a marvellous way of pressuring me into all this."
Alex substantially scoffed. Pooja lightly smacked her forehead.
"Why did you do it?"
Alex produced a perfect faux crybaby face as she tended to her point of the hit.
"You killed my Lil Lil forehead cells!"
Pooja scarcely restrained her chuckle as she set up the stern big-sister facade,
"Just shut up and listen first. I demand you to promise me that you will go with me somewhere on Christmas Eve."
"On a voyage?"
"No, bimbo! To meet someone."
A pouty face followed. But Pooja's glare was enough to make her regress and concede.
"Fine, Promise. But don't you dare pull me to a holiday funfair. Remember, I can bite."
Alex responded as she unveiled her teeth.
"You won't have to stoop that low" Pooja affirmed while stifling a hearty guffaw.
December 24th
"Are you going to tell me where you are taking me?" Vexation grazed Alex's features.
But her irritation was Pooja's gold. It was one of her reactions which made her laugh hysterically.
"If I die, I will spook you until I am served with 12 boxes of extravagant Walter's White and Pink Chocolate because you are making me do THIS." Alex pointed at the two of them.
"Which, I should make it clear, you won't get. 'Cause you won't die. Also, If means?"
"No, like I mean, subsequently we all will die, but before that, we will become top tier doctors, make millions, eat chocolates."
"We will get husbands" Pooja added to the list.
"They will die"
This earned Alex a scowl from her best friend.
"Then we would be sitting in our opulent houses and would be promoting golden dentures on our Pictogram."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
"And then we will die. We will be in heaven and do the Hippity-Hop dance with our already-in-heaven husbands", And the two of them laughed like crazy. Passers-by gave them side glances, most of them presuming they both had gone mad, but the two couldn't bother less.
After a little while, they reached in front of a modest house. Entering through the small copper-coloured gate, they peered around.
It posed an explicit opposition to the modern peculiarities of Boston. The place was serene. The garden surrounding the humble stone-exterior dwelling was immaculate and well-kept. The two of them went towards the white gate and pressed the doorbell.
Seconds later, an elderly lady opened the door.
"Hi, I am Pooja. And this is Alexandra" She introduced the two of them.
"Of course, please get in sweetheart. I have been expecting you." The lady gave a friendly smile and motioned the two of them to come in.
While entering, Alex tugged at Pooja's sleeve, dragging her back.
Keeping her voice as faint as plausible, she spoke, "Why did you bring me here? To discover how to make gingerbread?"
Pooja almost let out a tee-hee and gave her a warning look.
"What do you want me to say? You dragged me out of my cozy blanket and summery dreams to learn how to make gingerbread!"
Lightly hitting Alex's forehead, she jokingly admonished "Shut up Lex! Just wait and watch."
And then they followed the lady to a dim room.
In the core of the room, stood a circle table, encompassing which, three obsolescent chairs were orderly arranged.
Several aromatic candles blazed the shadowy nooks. Various shelves positioned on the walls with articles they couldn't recognize due to the gloom.
They were motioned to take a seat on the chairs.
"So, Miss Pooja! I am so overwhelmed to have you and your friend with me! I am very certain, that the forthcoming journey will be a once in a lifetime venture." The lady's grin revealed two blank spaces in her teeth.
"You have planned everything for us?" Even though they had talked beforehand, Pooja still felt a bit dubious. What is something went awry?
No.
She halted the train of thought. What ifs are endless. Trust yourself, everything that happens will be for the best.
"Yes, dear. Your request was the loveliest. And I have planned to make everything accurate, just the way you want."
At her words, the tension heaving down on Pooja dissipated.
"Now, both of you lay your hands on the table and relax. Don't ask any questions, Don't have any concerns. Just follow my statements and repeat the words I chant after me."
They both followed. Relaxing, for Alex, was hard, but for her twisted sister, she tried her best and finally calmed down.
The lady began. "Relax. All the arrangements are made. I am sending both of you to the Braidwood Manor, where the Waverleys live. You both are getting a chance to experience Christmas as it was celebrated nearly a century and a half ago. You both will reach London in the 1880s. Take a deep breath"
It felt like someone had cast a spell on them. They both followed all the words, all the instructions wordlessly. As said, they took a deep breath.
"Very Good! Now repeat the words after me. Try to remember them. I am sending you both in the past for a day but in case you wanna come back earlier, you will need them"
Then the lady tapped her purple-painted fingernail four times on the table and began, "Zahiri Washiki Ra, Zahiri Washiki Ma, MaRa LaYa Ma."
Both of them repeated. The gloomy room echoed with the words.
ZAHIRI WASHIKI RA, ZAHIRI WASHIKI MA, MARA LAYA MA!
PS: That's all for Christmas with the Waverleys Part 1🧡! Part 2 will be up tomorrow.
If you reached till here, please know that I am truly grateful for you🌟 I wish you nothing but happiness and smiles for the Holidays and the coming year❤
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead🧡🧡
#choices fanfiction#choices fic writers creations#cfwc winter season#fics of the week#choices oh#playchoices#choices stories you play#choices the stories you play#choices stories we play#open heart#open heart fanfiction#open heart mc#alexandra walton#Pooja Sharma#Christmas feels🎄🌟#choicesdecemberchallenge20#wacky drabbles#My fanfics🖋#Christmas with the Waverleys!
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