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mistaeq · 3 years

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Guido Mista: Just For Fun?

TW // nsfw content !!

Sssooo... this had to be a fic due on Mista's birthday, but I got killed by work and assignments and stuff, and could never manage to finish, but tonight I took a little time and concentrated on it properly before it was really TOO late. Enjoy~ ^_^

Guido Mista having a SPICY time with a neutral!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.04k

It felt so good. Damn, it felt so good. You weren't even sure there was love for you, by his side. But you wouldn't have stopped him for any reason. The gunslinger had come to you to tell you about Bucciarati's orders for the day. You had to show up at Passione's headquarters in a couple of hours, so, just for the sake of not getting bored in the meantime, you invited Mista in your house to have a chat. Unfortunately, or maybe luckily, the two of you seemed to have other plans in mind.

The things about the man exploring your body with his gaze, wasn't new to you. You'd been noticing this before, at work, outside, and in general. And it wasn't like you weren't interested in Mista's attention, you just couldn't help but thinking that having relationships with colleagues wasn't the best choice you could make. Little did it matter in that moment, realizing the two of you would have had to make up a believable excuse for your late arrival at Passione's headquarters.

"G-Guido!" bringing your thoughts cruelly back to the present, the gunslinger thrusted inside of your spent hole for one last time, without either of you coming. It had been a strong thrust, without mincing words, not slow and definitely not gentle, rough enough to hear you raise your voice for him. You just liked this thing about Mista being so mercilessly rough, and you couldn't tell you weren't expecting something like this from a man like him. You had stayed still until you felt his shaft come out of your sensitive body. And despite that, you had remained folded on the bed, because you knew him, Guido Mista would have never let you in peace so easily. Oh, he still had so much to do, with your body, after so much time of waiting and pushing it back.

Just in general, he liked to insist and keep going, starting from the most absurd and almost useless things, in any situation, like telling everyone about the fact that Narancia - he had told about it at least five times, once for every Bucciarati Gang member, him and Narancia excluded - had once scared him late at night during a sleepover by his house. The truth is, if we really want to keep a solid and actual comparison, that Mista guy's brains almost worked like his good companion's, Narancia. He probably soaked up some parts of his behavior, too. The most messed up ones, if I'm allowed to say that.

A kind of soul of the party, without them the boredom used to make itself easy to be felt, or in any case it made his absence noticed when nobody laughed or joked, but sexually speaking, to stay in the italian area, there is a valid and comparison with the loud mess you can find in Naples's markets and squares, too. People screaming, people yelling, someone laughing and a neverending music you don't even know where to locate. Oh, and food. Plenty of food. Don't ask an italian to skip a meal, folks. You were now being Guido's three course meal, rather than a snack.

You felt yourself being touched in a way that was anything but chaste by the strong hands of the curly, dark haired boy. It was the representation of a proper Gold Experience, to finally see the hair hidden under that hat of his, and you had to admit that sinking a hand inside of it was amazing. Plus, it perfectly represented his explosive personality. Mista's eighteen years of age - by now - surely influenced his amount of stamina and strength, he had arms that deserved the respect for which they had been designated by his genetic make-up, evidently. As if some foreplay and ministrations were necessary, after the previous hellish - or perhaps heavenly - hour in which nothing else had happened, other than the young italian roughly and ferociously pushing his length into your body, you felt his long and calloused fingers enter your needy hole, not so much time to waste and not many premises to make. Oh good lord.

"Guido..." your soft voice moaned, bending your head forward, then forced to pull it back up when you arched your back due to the sudden but perfect points that the boy's experienced fingers dared to touch.

"Right here...? You want it right here?" he teased. Oh, he had fun teasing. All the gunslinger wanted was to hear you beg for him to give you the pleasure you needed, and he knew where to touch to get you ruined for him. His fingertips grazed against a special spot, once, twice, and he laughed it over, looking at you curling up your fingers everytime, little moans coming out of your throat, your hands gripping on the bedsheets. "Damn tesoro, you're so sensitive..." he said in his hateful, proud, signature mocking tone.

"...O-Oh my god, Guido... this might be the third time you do it... right there..." but that sentence did not last long, considering the gunslinger's intentions, who bent down to use his experienced tongue where before only his fingers were. Fuck that guy and his stupid attitude. Fuck his behavior, fuck his warm tongue, penetrating your needy hole along with his fingers, leaving you speechless and breathless every second more. At least a dozen times, surely, you insulted him, cursing and groaning under the wet and beautiful contact of the boy's lips and tongue as they worked on you. You would have lied, if you said you hadn't dreamt of this before.

Given the position you were now in, when you were too quiet or too noisy for your dirty lover's liking, the size of Mista's hands came in handy, to spank you and startle you enough to react and oblige to his will. He wasn't very gentle, as a sexual character. Let's say that he enjoyed leaving his masterpieces incomplete. Like that orgasm of yours which was very little time apart from exploding, for example. When he withdrew his hands and tongue drom you, you couldn't hold back from complaining... probably too much for the man's liking. "F-Fuck! I was so damn close..." you squealed, disappointed, and let your tongue speak for yourself, shivering because of the current emptiness of your hole. "Why have I chosen to have sex with you... I could have paid someone from the street... or maybe a colleague of yours... hm?"

You had gone too far. At those words, you felt Guido grab your hair in a tight grip. Not too much to seriously hurt you, but enough to fuel your arousal even more. You can't say you haven't obtained exactly what you were looking for. "Excuse me, or better... excuse you, do you mind repeating what you just said, cara/o?" Damn, that turned you on so much. Obey him. Just obey him. You thought, until the brat part of you took over.

"N-no... I ..." you slightly turned towards him, and unexpected as it was, but incredibly hot, his member was right in front of the tip of your nose, right now. You stared at it, bouncing in front of you. Average length, but interesting girth, nothing to say. A good one. You wouldn't have minded to choke on it. "Nothing... I said nothing."

"Nuh-uh, I heard you, little fucker." he pulled you closer to him, his leaking tip now grazing on your cheek, leaving a slightly humid trail behind it. Mista's grip on your hair tightened. "Repeat for me, will you...?" he cooed, faking a soft and calm tone of his voice. Then, he clenched his teeth. "What could you do, you said?" For a split second, you thought about how Bruno was probably waiting for you at Passione's headquarters, and there you were instead, with Mista's cock hanging in front of your face.

"Nothing. I couldn't do anything..."

"Good. That's what I like to hear." with a further squeeze he made you moan and cry out, taking the opportunity to push his leaking member into your mouth. You felt yourself suffocate, Mista had no small one at all, to be completely honest, he was far from it. And you madly liked him, not only for that, also as a person. On a psychological and personal level. Nice, funny, serious when needed - maybe-, and absolutely beautiful. How many people would have sold their soul to the devil, to spend a single night with Naples's forbidden dream - or at least he said so. He probably made it up for his own self-esteem -? He also tasted good, to be honest. Details like those were important, too.

You soon understood that the only way to not to feel too bad with his strength and stamina, was to go along with his desires seriously, and thanks to this little thought that for an hour now had been helping you with Guido's sexual cravings, you brought a hand to the man's member, to help with your hands your work on him. You saw him start to move his hips towards your mouth and back, that choking sensation intensified even more due to the fact that Mista's hips thrusted forward as you bent down on him, yet as much as your eyes could water and tear up, the man's proud moans only hinted at how much it actually excited him, to see you struggle and choke on his length. "Dammit... don't give me those teary eyes... I'm gonna fucking cum." And, deep down, it was a good fuel to your own arousal. But you wouldn't have dared to tell Guido, or you would have made him brag for ages about it.

His movements got to a sudden halt, when the gunslinger reached his high, in the depth of your throat, as his own breath hitched with yours. "Fuck, y/n...!" It was very deep, and due to the choking sensation, your soft face already had two hot, heavy and salty tears running down your cheeks, not really from pain but from exertion, that guttural effort you usually make when you have to throw up, when you yawn and when you cough. Every action that, even if minimal, brings the eyes to that moist, thing layer that, straining even more those feelings, makes it become tiring and uncontrollable tears. You felt Mista's warm cum run down your throat. Still, you took the chance to taste it properly. It was so good. Another thing you wouldn't have told Guido.

It was a different sensation, compared to when you swallowed it down yourself. Or at least it was, in other experiences you had, but you were wondering if it wasn't Guido's presence, making you feel in some sorts of ways. Anyways, by swallowing down yourself, you were fast enough to not to feel the need to cough. But this way, the warm fluid flowed dramatically slowly, along the walls of your throat, down, while you only wondered when you would stop feeling it moving in your lower neck and upper chest. The satisfied look on Mista's face, who was now approaching you again, after having pulled his member out of your tender mouth, spoke by itself, and said a few simple and easily interpretable words on the line of "You will feel this warmth also somewhere else, soon." and perhaps you weren't even really complaining about it.

Even if you hoped for it to not to be that intense and strong. Too bad it would have been such, but Mista knew what he was doing, so you just chose to let him do his thing to you. "...If you do want it, it is." oh. The fact that he made sure you were still agreeing to it, caused a weird warmth to pop up in your chest. Dominant Guido was a good Guido, but respectful Guido was the best version of him. You just smiled, and quickly nodded. Of course you wanted more. You felt your legs get grabbed and opened by strong and calloused hands, you were still ready and sensitive for him, despite all the times you had come for him that evening. And despite all the times he had denied you an orgasm.

He slipped his hard length inside of you without hurting your sensitive hole too much, or maybe it was just you who were already too used to keeping that damned neapolitan inside of your body, for that night. And you thanked God for it, otherwise it would have been quite painful. A beautiful pain, in any case. First thrust, Mista groaned very loudly, clenching his teeth. One day you'll complain to him, about the fact that he'll be expecting too much time from you to dedicate to having sex. "But you can stretch your muscles like this," he'll insist, looking for a bright side or a diversionary way to respond to your grip on him against the wall. You held on the bedsheets and bit your lower lip, keeping a moan from coming out.

Second thrust, even stronger. You began to even pull on the bedheets because of the gunslinger's cock, grazing just on the right spots, the spots only him could brag about being able to find so quickly. Maybe you would have ruined or ripped your own bedsheets. Just maybe. Worse than that time when Narancia and him had decided to become the funny people of the situation, and by folding and shredding Pannacotta's bedsheets, they made some table doilies. Afterwards, Fugo didn't really want to punish them too much, to be honest. Just enough to cause the two of them three or four displaced fractures, but obviously Bruno and Leone wouldn't let him do that either.

Third thrust, Guido had started seriously moaning on his own breathy groans. He sounded like he had started to chuckle on his own voice, and that... well, that was kinda hot. "How... How do you keep on being so tight after all of this... you're just like I dreamt... or even better, I say..." you felt your arousal reach the stars, when you realized Mista had been dreaming of you. Well, you would have lied if you told him you hadn't been dreaming of him as well. But all you could do in that moment, was moan and chuckle with him. He was such a funny man, after all. You thought of that time when, together with Giorno, he had well thought about ordering a dick-shaped pizza for Abbacchio's birthday, the package labeled "For a pissing goth". How were you thinking of this while having sex? Oh my god.

Fourth thrust. You were now trembling, along with moaning. "Fuck, Guido... just like that..." you begged, clenching your teeth and not only. "Make me cum, please..." He was being so damn strong, Mista, in that moment, but thinking about that little, big, funny part of his personality, from the vicissitudes with the Gang - although he almost never admitted to be guilty of those - to his iconic tetraphobia, the fear of number four. This is why, he was pretty fast to thrust inside of you an essential fifth time. And the thrusts that appeared so strong at first, seemed now softer, slower. Slower. And frenzied, because of his own climax approaching him.

"Y-Y/n... cum now...! Fuck... cum for me." How could you even think about resisting to it? You let go and rode your high, followed by him. Witnessing such an intense pleasure and feeling of being filled in such a good way from the neapolitan gunslinger, your body trembled and shivered, your hands scratched and caressed the perfect and imperfect skin of the shoulders of Guido Mista, who, filling you with what was left of his tiredness, he let go and collapsed on your sweaty body. "Thank you... damn... thank you." in that moment, you really hoped he hadn't just took an occasion to have sex or to empty his balls. But your fear disappeared when he lay his head on your chest and let you sink a hand into his dark curls, which were sticking to his sweaty face.

For a while, you stayed there, hoping he wouldn't drift asleep. You wanted to understand what all of that meant for him. Because it genuinely meant a lot for you. You had been waiting for that. All you had to understand was if Guido had been dreaming of you to just get a piece of your ass or a piece of your heart. "Bruno's waiting for us, Mista..." you whispered, but your body language fooled you. Your voice sounded like you wanted to get up and get to Passione's Headquarters, but your legs wrapped around the man's waist told another story.

"I don't really care, if I really have to be honest." the gunslinger mumbled, with a sleepy voice. "I'd go there to just look like a mess. I can't possibly focus on anything else, after a good lovemaking." oh you liked the sound of that. You giggled, that was a hilarious answer, but mostly you chuckled out of joy.

"Lovemaking, huh..." you repeated, stroking his soft, curly hair once more. "So it meant something to you." at your words, you saw Mista's eyes widen and his head get up from your chest. He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I... I was lowkey scared you just wanted to get a good time with my ass and let go."

"Me? Just get a good time with your ass?" he pretended to be deeply offended and pouted, making you giggle again. You didn't even mean to express that much joy, but you just felt your heart replenish with feelings. "Who do you think I am? I'm a gentiluomo, I'd never just use a babe like you for sex and nothing more. I'm... a responsible man and shit." yeah, that's just the answer a responsible man would give. But you were satisfied and happy. And amused.

"You know what, Guido... let's just stay here and rest. Bruno can wait." Maybe it was too early to talk about proper love, but you would have had a lot of time, to talk about it.

That is, if Bruno doesn't kill the two of you first.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part five #vento aureo #guido mista #mista x reader #jojo fic

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cakesunflower · 5 years

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Fitoor [C.H. Multi-Shot] Part 1

This is part 1 of a 2 part multi-shot! Hope y’all enjoy! Happy reading!!

All Parts: Part 2

Fitoor—Obsession

She stepped up to the raised level where the bar was, the music around her pulsating and giggles still falling past her lips after dancing with her too drunk cousin who was all too ready to grind her ass against anyone willing. Her ring clad fingers ran through her waist length dark hair, letting out a breath as she tried to ignore the pinch in her feet due to her heeled ankle boots, the click of them against the glittering floor lost in the blaring music playing throughout the club. Even in her lacey, spaghetti strapped bodysuit and black denim shorts, a thin sheen of sweat collected on her body, her uninterrupted dancing and the warmth from the drinks she’d consumed two contributing factors.

Still, that didn’t stop her from approaching the busy bar, managing to squeeze herself between people and folding her arms on top of the bar, waiting to get the bartender’s attention. Blue lights flashed around the club in time with the beat of the music, the red lights of the floor and balcony railings for the second floor creating purple tints, nearly blinding her when they first arrived to the club but was now used to. Multiple times did she try to grab one of the bartenders’ attention, her calling voice lost in the songs, eager to get her drink and head back to the dance floor to her family, letting out an impatient huff when the guy headed down the other end of the bar as her words fell upon deaf ears.

Each failed attempt thinned her patience, lips pursing as she let out a sharp breath through her nose, accompanied by the quiet growl at the back of her throat as she glared at the bartender. Truthfully, she knew it wasn’t his fault; it was a busy night and there were loads of other people to serve. She just became a bit too impatient when she was tipsy, and so she exhaled slowly through her nose, shoulders relaxing as she tapped her nails on the sleek bartop.

“What’s your poison?”

The accented voice caught her attention for some reason, over the pounding music, looking over to her right. Maybe it was the fact that it sounded almost American, a vast difference from the heavy Dutch accents she’d been surrounded by since she arrived in Amsterdam last night. Or maybe it was the rasp that carried in his deep voice. The vague familiarity went over her somewhat hazy mind until she finally looked at the man, and through the reds, blues and purples of the club, it surprisingly wasn’t difficult to figure out exactly who was speaking to her.

The shock that rocked her body was well contained, managing even through her tipsy stupor to control her expression as she gazed at the dark and curly haired man, sitting with his arms folded on top of the bar yet dark eyes trained on her expectantly. For a second, she wondered if she was hallucinating, wondering what were the odds of running into the famous bassist at some random club in Amsterdam, of all places. But there was a heat radiating off of his casual gaze, his eyes glued to her with a subtle tilt of his head, colors flashing against his brown skin, and she understood that this was definitely real. That the heaviness she felt rest upon her body under the weight of his gaze was present and true.

Her lips parted, ignoring the drum of her heart as she managed to answer, “Henny and Coke.”

He nodded, head turning to face ahead as he raised a ring clad hand, easily catching the attention of the bartender who made his way over. The dark haired man stated her order over the sound of the music, and as the bartender began preparing it, she sucked in her lower lip before finding the lost words to say, “I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.” His lips quirked slightly before turning on the stool, his body facing her as he held out his right hand and introduced, “Calum Hood.”

She resisted the initial urge to let the words I know slip from her mouth, instead swallowing them down and raising her own hand. “Sam Noor,” she smiled, feeling the air lock in her throat at the touch of her hand against his. His skin was warm, fingers calloused, as the soft clink of their rings was lost in their loud surroundings, and Sam could just barely ignore the current of electricity that shot up her arm and spread through her body like a wildfire when their hands held onto each other’s. One touch, and Sam’s stomach was in undoable knots.

He regarded her with intrigued dark eyes, looking up at her with his arm resting on the bar and a slight tilt of his head. Sam felt a flush in her cheeks as he stared at her, wanting to believe the heat that warmed her was due to the drinks she’d had and not the way his gaze seemed to penetrate her thoroughly. She tried not to shift on her feet, tried to think of him as just a random, handsome guy at a bar and not someone whose music she’s listened to and seen all over the Internet. But with a face like that, an alluring expression reading of quiet promises, Sam wasn’t sure how she was still standing on her feet.

“You’re American, yeah?” Calum questioned casually, hand wrapping around his own glass of whiskey as he propped his arm on his elbow. At Sam’s nod, he asked, “Here on vacation?”

He was starting a conversation with her, Sam lazily realized, feeling people shuffle around her as she remained standing in place, not at all wanting to move from where she was. It helped that his gaze kept her frozen in place. “Yeah, with my family,” she supplied, gesturing vaguely towards the dance floor where she had left them as if he had any idea who to look for. “I live in New York.”

The quirk of his lips widened just a smidge, remarking, “One of my favorite cities,” as the bartender slid over Sam’s filled glass. She tried not to track the way Calum’s finger trailed along the rim of his glass as he spoke, “There’s this dive bar I go to a lot, real small, off on fifth street called—”

“Sophie’s,” Sam cut in knowingly, surprisingly, her grin widening with excitement at the mention of one of her favorite places in her city. That particular dive bar consisted of many memories, none bad, and Sam’s heart leapt in her chest at the sight of Calum’s lips pulling back into a wider grin. Sam let out a slightly awed laugh, surprised at someone of Calum’s caliber being familiar with the grimey, tiny bar that she often frequented. “It’s my favorite bar. I go there all the time.”

Calum lifted his chin, looking up at her carefully, the colors flashing across his dark eyes and stirring something in the pit of Sam’s stomach. He was devastatingly handsome sitting in front of her; she’d seen pictures and videos of him on social media and TV, sure, skimming through them because she wasn’t one to take the time and indulge in celebrities and their lives. But the sight of Calum Hood was not one to be just glanced at; in that moment, Sam realized, she wanted to take her time and admire everything about him. He simply demanded it.

“Clearly not all the time, if I’ve never seen you there,” Calum rebutted, his smile playful, the muscle in his jaw jumping as his brown eyes trailed the length of her figure from her toes to her face, bringing the glass up to his lips and taking a sip, eyes never leaving hers. His mere gaze left electricity buzzing in Sam’s veins, throat drying at so blatantly being appreciated, trying to push away the thought of how it’d feel if he admired her with his hands rather than just his eyes. Sam refrained from biting her lip; he had nice hands.

Still, despite the thundering of her heart, Sam managed to keep the easy grin on her face, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow as she gave a subtle shake of her head to push back her hair over her shoulder. She kept her smirk to herself when she noticed Calum’s eyes briefly admire the sight of her slender neck. “Well, when’s the last time you were there?”

He raised his own eyebrow at her question, eyes zeroing in on the way her lips wrapped around the thin black straw and she took a sip of her drink. The shift of his gaze wasn’t lost on Sam; it was like he wanted to take note of her every movement. It only intensified the buzz running through her. “Last June.”

Sam sucked in her teeth, hip resting against the bar and free hand playing with her straw as she offered a faux sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I was out of the country then,” she told him truthfully, grin returning because, hell, it was kind of hard not to smile at him. He kind of had some kind of silent, daunting aura around him, and maybe it was the drinks that were loosening Sam up, but she didn’t feel intimidated. Not when he was being so obvious about his intentions—all of which Sam was willing and able to live up to. “So sorry about that.”

“That’s unfortunate.” The music and everyone around them seem to die out just then, in Sam’s ears, her attention solely focused on the rasp of Calum’s voice, in the knowing tilt it carried as he watched her intently. He put down his glass, shoulders squaring as he leaned forward, hands resting on his knees as he smirked softly, “Could’ve done all this a lot sooner.”

It was increasingly becoming difficult to think over the pounding of her heart and the warmth she felt spread across her body, this time convinced it was due to the way he was looking at her. Both of them were well aware where this was going, both so willing for it to happen, but this was fun. This light teasing, playful flirting only deepened the anticipation and fueled the desire that was aching in Sam’s bones. And to know that this man—this unfairly attractive, talented, God-like of man—wanted her almost as badly as she did him and was painfully obvious about it, just made Sam feel all the more powerful.

“Could’ve done what?” she hummed, taking a step closer, the sides of her legs brushing against his knees. She kept her glass close to her, twirling the straw around and clinking the ice together as she kept her dark eyes trained on his. Sam wondered if he was admiring the colors flashing against her eyes the way she was with his own, felt the butterflies tickle her stomach when she felt his fingers brush up from her bare mid thigh to rest lightly on her hip. A simple touch had never been so welcome. She tried to find the words she wanted to speak, hoping to keep the coy, teasing tone ever present as she arched her brow once more and continued, “Buy me four dollar beer before I took you to my apartment as opposed to buying me a nine dollar drink and taking me back to your hotel room?”

The promise in her voice was obvious, an assurance that either way, no matter the circumstances, he would’ve bought her a drink and they would’ve ended up in between the sheets. Because when a man looked at her the way Calum was, like he had absolutely no eyes for anyone else in the room and that the entirety of his attention was only for her, be it for one night only, there was no way Sam was passing up the opportunity to see if his touch could light a fire in her the way his gaze was.

Her words prompted Calum to tighten his grip on her, and Sam bit the corner of her lip as his fingers dug into her through the thin, satin material of her body suit. His touch, despite being obstructed by her clothes, felt as though it was searing her skin, a delicious sensation Sam was desperate to feel more of as her heart continued to thunder with excited anticipation.

Calum scoffed out a short, breathy laugh as she remained standing in between his legs, innocently sipping her drink, and his eyes once again found her lips. Absently, his teeth sunk into his lower one as he watched her, and Sam felt something animalistic jerk inside of her. She’d never wanted to kiss someone so badly before. “We’re goin’ to my hotel then, huh?” he questioned, both thoughtful and curious.

Sam released her straw, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. She understood any underlying hesitance he may have; he was someone famous, someone with millions of fans around the world, and if she were him, she wouldn’t necessarily want some random hook up to know his hotel information, either. But they kind of didn’t have much of a choice. “I’m sharing mine with my cousin and we’re close, but not that close.”

Her words enticed a laugh from Calum, head dipping as his shoulders shook slightly, and Sam grinned at the husky sound while she continued sipping her drink. The bittersweet liquid, heavy on the burning bitter, warmed her core as she drank it. But, really, she was aching to be warmed by the musician in front of her. Sam’s hands itched to run through the dark of his curls, to feel the muscles hidden beneath the leather jacket, to find out if those lips felt as soft as they looked.

When he lifted his head, laughter dissolving into chuckles, Sam felt a squeeze in her chest because despite the colors washing over them, she could still make out the crinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as he grinned. Easily, then, Calum mused, “I think you’ve convinced me,” before downing the rest of his nearly finished drink and standing up, prompting Sam to take a small step back as her gaze followed him.

She looked up at him now, admiring his height because while at 5’4” many people were taller than her, Calum stood out. The muscles defining his arms under the leather jacket made him look big, his frame towering and domineering in the best of ways, and Sam bit the inside of her lip and tried to ignore the ridiculous thought running through her mind that had her yearning to climb him like a Goddamn tree.

“Really?” she found herself responding, clicking her tongue as the mischievous look flashed across her eyes, smirking when he cocked a brow. “I was all ready to persuade you and everything.”

He didn’t miss the expression that took over her face, Sam knew he didn’t in the way he shifted his jaw to the side, forehead smoothing out under the few curls that brushed across it. The subtle quirk of his lips told Sam he knew the answer of the question he was about voice, yet that didn’t stop him from knowingly inquiring, “How were you plannin’ on doing that?”

She was hoping he’d ask.

The smirk she sported widened just a bit as she closed the distance between them, watching as Calum’s eyes never leave hers until her front was pressed against his as she moved her glass out of the way. When her free hand came to rest on the back of his neck, finger tips teasing his curls, Sam’s heart was thundering against her ribcage along with the music beating around them as she noted the way his gaze dropped to her lips when she drew closer, not giving either of them much time to think as she captured Calum’s inviting lips in a kiss.

He tasted like the whiskey he’d drank, the taste burning her gloriously, as she sucked on his plump lower lip and felt him instinctively grip her hips to tug her closer. For a moment Sam was relieved he accepted her almost immediately, kissing him slowly and lazily, savoring the taste of him and enjoying the electricity that shocked through her body at the first touch of their eager lips.

They were no longer in the middle of a bustling club; all Sam could hear was the hammering of her heart and the only heat she could feel was ignited by the softness of Calum’s lips. She wanted him right then and there, stomach twisting into knots and fearing that her legs wouldn’t be able to support her as she felt the stubble on his chin rub against her, the sensation nearly drawing out an involuntary moan. Sam could feel herself melting into Calum, into the way he leisurely moved his lips against hers and dug his fingers into her body, just as unwilling to let go as she was. But to do what they both craved so desperately, they needed to get out of there first.

So Sam pulled away, breath a bit unsteady as her forehead pressed against his, Calum ducking his head to be able to do so. Her eyes remained closed, hand still on the back of his neck as she breathed out, somewhat shakily, too dizzy from the exhilaration of the kiss and using his grip on her hips to anchor her to reality. “Was I persuasive enough?”

His hands remained on her hips, giving them a squeeze, and Sam opened her eyes just in time as Calum pulled away, and a shiver ran down her spine at the fire dancing in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. His lips looked gently kissed, Sam’s mouth dropping open ever so slightly as she was overcome with the desire to kiss him again, desperately and bruisingly and noticeably. She craved it, especially when he kept his brown eyes on hers and swiped his tongue across his lower lip, licking off any lingering taste of her. The wolfish look in Calum’s eyes told her he craved her, just as badly, too.

And the way he reached up to grab her hand on the back of his neck, grip firm and promising, and tugged her in the direction of the exit, too desperate to give her a chance to put down her still full glass, answered her own question. Her method of persuasion had been, as it seemed, heavily effective.

*****

It was like sitting inside of a painting, the colors around him bright and vivid, everything appearing picturesque as Calum leaned back in his chair and let the heavy cloud of smoke curl out of his mouth slowly, inhaling it through his nose as he held the joint between his fingers. He sat comfortably, right ankle resting on the top of his knee as the sun rays danced in between floating clouds, though sunglasses still covered his dark eyes as he took in his surroundings.

They never got to do much of this while they were touring; a few hours in the day were taken out to go and see whatever city they were stopped in, but the anticipation of a concert to be put on later that night always lingered. It made things feel rushed, never really allowed Calum to truly stop and drink in the sights around him and actually take the time to appreciate where in the world he was. The fast paced lifestyle of being on tour was exciting and thrilling in its own way, a part of his life Calum was grateful for, but sometimes he just wanted to stop. He wanted to take a break and indulge in his surroundings, enjoy himself without worrying about running late for a soundcheck or interview. Which is why this band holiday, being in Amsterdam with his three best friends, was much needed and appreciated.

So he sat there in a coffee shop by a canal, a bitter cup of coffee on the small round table in front of him, a joint in hand, and Luke sitting across from him. They sat outside in a bustling neighborhood, boutiques and restaurants lining the streets along with residential areas up and down on either side of the canal where a boat or two would sift through every now and then. Old Dutch music was playing through the street as well, circulating the air like the neighborhood’s own soundtrack, and it relaxed Calum almost as much as the cannabis circulating his system. While smoking wasn’t entirely legal in Amsterdam, it still provided more freedom for Calum to be able to do so sitting outside a coffee shop and smoking at his own free will. He’d always loved Amsterdam.

“The fact that you wanted to smoke at ten in the morning should be concerning, but since we’re on vacation, ’m not gonna say anything.”

Calum rolled his eyes from under his sunglasses before looking at Luke, who was watching him with raised eyebrows as he nursed his own cup of badly made coffee. It was all part of the experience, wasn’t it? “That, in itself, was you sayin’ somethin’,” the bassist lazily pointed out, taking another hit.

Luke chuckled as he looked off at the canal to his right, elbows resting on the wooden armrests of the chairs and fingers linked together. “Can I say something about those, then?” he questioned, jutting his chin at Calum, who realized after a second of confusion that the blonde was referring to the few marks scattered around the skin of his neck. Calum knew exactly where they were, could still feel the electric tingles of where her lips had been the night before last; knew there was one right by his pulse point on his neck, another by his throat, and a few on his collarbones hidden under the material of his shirt.

The purple marks had been noticeable the very next day when Calum had woken up to an empty yet slept-in bed. And that had unnerved him; usually he appreciated when the girls left on their own accord instead of sticking around and forcing him to kick them out, but that morning when he woke up and Sam was nowhere to be found, Calum had battled a stab of disappointment he hadn’t expected. He pushed it away because it was only a one night thing. He’s done that loads of times before. This shouldn’t be any different.

Letting out an amused yet impressed laugh, Luke hummed, “We’d only been here for a day and you already managed to snag someone.” He raised his cup, dimples in full view as the sun peeked from behind clouds and the rays delicately danced upon the golden of Luke’s curls. “Good on you, mate. What was her name?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink, face scrunching up slightly at the taste.

“Sam,” Calum answered, her name rolling off his tongue in a smooth drawl, head tilting back slightly as he gazed up at the sky. He recalled, in that moment, how her name had fallen past his lips amidst satisfied curses and grunts the other night, and suddenly the sound of her breathless voice chanting his name like a prayer with her fingers tangling in his dark hair echoed throughout his mind. Calum’s throat worked, scratching his temple with his finger. “She’s visitin’ from New York.”

He thought of her, just then; thought of her dark eyes and silky hair and lips that worked him over expertly. He thought of how he’d woken the next morning with his back slightly stinging with the marks her nails had dragged down, and his stomach stirred as he thought of how her fingers had been tight in his hair as she pressed him closer to her and prettily moaned out profanities as he worked her over with his lips and tongue and took in everything she had to give him.

Calum tightened his jaw, throat working as he shifted slightly in his chair, feeling the subtle tightening of his pants his blood rushed and forced himself to think of anything but the way he’d fit so perfectly in Sam Noor.

At Calum’s words, Luke let out a snort while giving a shake of his head, and Calum raised his eyebrows questioningly as he took another hit. He felt the blunt burn the back of his throat familiarly, the haze he felt clouding him only gradually thickening as he lolled his head to the side, curious as to why Luke rolled his eyes once more. “You found a New York style cheesecake in the middle of Dutch delicacies,” Luke stated, snickering at his own analogy as Calum slowly furrowed his eyebrows. Shrugging his shoulders, Luke clicked his tongue. “You’re in Amsterdam, man.” He briefly held his arms out. “Expand your horizons.”

For a moment, Calum wondered if he’d taken too many hits and was too out of it to the point where he misheard Luke’s words. Had he just. . . Compared Sam to a New York cheesecake? His friend has said some pretty weird shit, but this was kind of ridiculous. Parting his lips, Calum gestured to Luke with the joint in his fingers, eyes narrowing as he debated, through his high, if Luke was being genuinely serious. “If Sierra heard you talkin’ about women like they were dessert, I think she’d give me full permission to kick you in the balls.” Calum paused, lips quirking into a smirk before correcting, “She’s short enough to do it herself, actually.”

“I—wh—no!” Luke sputtered out, letting out a short groan as he closed his eyes and bent his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. Calum stared at him with a raised eyebrow, amused at the blonde flustering, before Luke’s blue eyes looked at Calum and he quickly corrected, “I just meant that, like—”

“Stop talkin’ before you have an aneurism,” Calum cut in with a laugh of his own, taking pity on his friend trying to backtrack on his terrible choice of words. Luke let out a huff, running his fingers through his curls as he leaned back in the seat and tilted his head all the way back, facing the sky. Calum merely grinned, the smile coming easier to his lips thanks to the effect of the drug dancing around his system, shaking his head in pure amusement as he let his gaze wander.

The serenity that rested upon Calum was wholeheartedly welcome, watching his surroundings through hooded eyes as people ate and shopped and walked and rode bikes. He admired the colorful bushes of flowers by the bridges over the canal, let his head sway side to side gently in time with the music still playing around them, the smell of weed heavy and familiar and undisturbing. Calum let out a slow, satisfied breath as the sun shone down on them; everything felt so authentic, so real and waiting to be admired. It wasn’t like Calum never appreciated the beauty of the places he was in while he was on tour, but it felt different this time. This time, he could actually sit and smell the roses, so to speak.

His gaze trailed over the bridge over the canal closest to them, and suddenly Calum’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what he was looking at. Left arm on the armrest, he used it to push himself up, raising his glasses to his forehead to look without the nonexistent obstruction of his sunglasses. A surprised scoff escaped him as he realized that he was, in fact, looking at Sam Noor leaning against the railing of the bridge and posing for pictures with another girl.

“No fuckin’ way,” Calum breathed out, watching the way as the girl and Sam wrapped their arms around each other, wide and happy grins on their faces as a guy, standing with two others, took their photos. He wondered if he was conjuring her up through his imagination, a daydream brought on by him constantly thinking of her since the night he met her—a fact he tried not to think of too much.

Luke’s head straightened. “What?” he asked, furrowing his brows at Calum’s disbelieving expression before looking over his shoulder and trying to follow his gaze. The bridge wasn’t that far, his eyes going in the right direction, though unsure of what he should be staring at. Impatiently, Luke prodded, “What’re you looking at?”

One blunt wasn’t enough to completely put Calum out of it, but he still blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was so shaken at the sight of Sam. Maybe it had to do with the disappointment he’d felt when he’d woken up to an empty bed, his unexpected desire for wanting her to still be there when the sun came up. Part of him had thought he wouldn’t see her again, just being allowed one night with the girl with pretty brown eyes and a gorgeous sunflower tattoo on her sternum he’d peppered with kisses and yearned to do so again.

“That girl on the bridge,” Calum murmured slowly, eyes still narrowed and lips quirking. She looked good, showing off her legs and long hair fluttering in the breeze. “The one in the yellow dress, she’s—that’s Sam.”

“Oh, shit,” Luke laughed, glancing at Calum and taking in the way the bassist couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. And then, without allowing himself to think too much about it, to get too lost in his thoughts that would psych him out, Calum settled his glasses back on his face and stood up to his feet, causing Luke to raise his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

Absently, Calum passed the joint to Luke, who took it in a haze of bewilderment as he expectantly looked up at Calum, who had yet to look away from Sam. “’M gonna talk to her,” was all Calum said before walking away from the table, feeling light on his feet as he went. He knew he wasn’t entirely sober, feeling a familiar heaviness take over his body that wasn’t as weighty as it could be, but was enough to remind him of the high that made his head feel a little bit in the clouds.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say and, frankly, that should’ve been enough to have Calum turning back around and letting Sam go about her day without him interrupting it. But it was like that night in the club all over again; he’d seen her on the dance floor, a wide grin on her face as she danced with, Calum realized as he approached them, the same guys and girl she was with right now. He’d wanted to go up and talk to her, but Calum wasn’t nearly as drunk to actually dance, so he stayed by the bar, taking in the sight of her from a distance and silently hoping to be able to do more than just watch.

And then she had come up to the bar, right next to him, and Calum seized the opportunity. It had, unsurprisingly, gone just like he had hoped.

It should’ve just been the one night, but looking at her right now in a yellow sundress with thin straps that stood out against her brown skin, lips pink and glossy and utterly kissable, Calum couldn’t bring it in himself to stay away. She stirred something in the pit of his stomach, tightened the muscles of his heart, and in the back of his mind he knew nothing would quell until he talked to her. At least once more.

He’d never been one to shy away from what he wanted physically. And that’s what this was. That’s what he kept telling himself this was.

He got to where they were in the middle of the bridge, standing in a circle and looking through the pictures just taken, and the breeze tickled Calum’s skin wonderfully as his voice drawled, “Guess this city’s not as big as it seems, huh?”

Sam’s head lifted from looking down at her phone, moving her head to look around one of the guys’ frame before her dark brown eyes landed on Calum standing just a few feet away. He saw the surprise that flickered across her face, eyebrows raising and lips parting, and it wasn’t until Calum felt the weight of her gaze where he finally considered what if she didn’t want to see him. What if the one night had been enough for her and that was it? Fuck, was he about to make a complete fool out of himself?

Her shock wore off, relatively quickly, and Calum watched with a tight throat as her expression softened into a smile. “It’s not New York, that’s for sure.”

The sight of her grin, one Calum hadn’t been able to get enough of that night, warmed his heart more than anything weed could do for him, relaxing his shoulders as he kept his hands buried in the pockets of his deep red bomber jacket. Remembering his manners, Calum looked at the four other people standing around, all staring at him in confusion and surprise, until his gaze landed on the other woman next to Sam as she leaned over to the slightly taller girl and, not too quietly, hissed out, “Is that Calum friggin’ Hood?”

Hearing her loud and clear, Calum let out a deep chuckle, shooting the incredulous woman a grin, who merely smiled back before looking at the other guys with widened eyes. Waving her off, Sam approached him as she crossed her arms over her chest, quirking an eyebrow. “Surprised you recognize me in broad daylight.”

Calum scoffed as someone rode by on a bike, though his attention was solely focused on Sam. The sun made her skin glow, golden tones dancing across her cheekbones as she peered up at him with long lashes, the sunlight glinting against the gold nose ring she had, and the breath caught in his throat as he gazed at her. Undeniably beautiful, is what she was; if he thought she was gorgeous in the flashing lights of the club, than looking at her under the brightness of the sun was downright overwhelming.

So many pretty faces he’d seen in his life on the road. Hers was one he’d be hard pressed to forget.

They stood close, so close but not enough, as Calum looked down at her without truly lowering his head. She smelt like a sweet mixture of shea and cocoa butter, a scent he’d gotten intoxicated by that night. With a lazy, boyish grin, Calum responded, “Can’t forget a smile like that.”

Her smile widened, biting into her lower lip as she questioned thoughtfully, “Are you normally this flirty or is it ’cause you’re high?”

Calum let out a short laugh at that, raspy in sound as he ducked his head and scuffed the toe of his Vans, raising his head to see her brown eyes watching him. The subtle flutter in his stomach was increasing by the second, the longer he spent in Sam’s presence. “’M normally an ass. The weed helps,” Calum answered through an easy smile, “gave me the push to come up and talk to you. Wasn’t entirely sure if you’d want me to.”

She gave a roll of her eyes. “You’re not an ass,” she said easily, as if she had the appropriate amount of history with him to sound so confident in her statement the way she did. Sam glanced over her shoulder briefly, nodding vaguely at her friends who took the hint and walked a few steps away, and she turned to look back at Calum with a tilt of her head. She squinted slightly, the sun reflecting in her eyes, curiosity dancing across her delicate features as her eyebrows subtly drew together. “And why wouldn’t I?”

“You left without sayin’ goodbye,” Calum responded, as if that was a reasonable answer, and in his mind it was. He refused to think about how desperate he sounded, hoping the causality in his tone would mask it. God, he didn’t know why he cared. He was practically an expert at one night stands, quite often preferred them and knew it was always better if one left before the other woke up to avoid awkward wake up calls. So why was he so persistent on this? What was so special about Sam?

He took one look at the girl in front of him and his throat tightened. He didn’t want an answer to that.

The surprise flickered across Sam’s eyes, the furrow in her eyebrows smoothing as her head straightened at his response. Her gaze averted momentarily, watching as a few people strolled by them as Calum licked his lips, fearful of his words sounding too. . . Attached. . . before her dark eyes met his once more. “I thought you’d appreciate my discretion,” she told him truthfully, her voice a murmur.

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, feeling the same kind of pull crackling between them like electricity the way he did at the club, and Calum understood one night with Sam hadn’t nearly been enough. He needed more. His body fucking craved it—craved her. That’s what it was, he was sure. The physicality of it all, nothing more. “Any chance I can appreciate it tomorrow night?” Calum questioned, his voice a smooth drawl. He was being forward, he knew, but he didn’t care. He was high and he didn’t care.

Sam looked at him, the insinuation in his words not at all lost on her, and her stomach did a flip of excitement as she took a quiet breath through her nose. The last thing she had expected when she booked her flight to Amsterdam was that she’d be screwing around with Calum Hood, but it was ridiculously funny how things worked out sometimes. It would, she knew, make for a memorable trip.

So she smirked, never one to shy away, as she lifted her chin and brushed her hair over her shoulder. Calum’s eyebrows raised a bit behind his sunglasses, waiting for an answer, and Sam briefly couldn’t believe she was doing this. But her heart was thundering and her body, admittedly, missed Calum’s touch, was desperate for it, and who was she to deprive herself of his expert fingers and sinful mouth? And with him standing there, the hickeys she’d left fading yet a physical reminder of their night together, she couldn’t resist. The confidence and coyness was clear in her voice as she responded with glimmering eyes, “You can appreciate it for the entire two weeks I’m here, if you’re up for it.”

Oh, she was going to be the death of him.

Calum pressed his tongue to the back of his lower teeth, lips curled up into an agreeing grin. He felt the kick of excitement at her proposition, the thrill much stronger than the high he was on, thanking God he was in Amsterdam for about two weeks too so he could make the most of this and her. It was all kind of strange, on Calum’s part; if he was being honest, these kinds of arrangements weren’t anything new for him. What was new was the toe curling anticipation he felt where Sam was concerned. Whatever the hell he was feeling wasn’t something he’d experienced in a long time; he felt a bit ridiculous for being so eager. The woman in front of him had some kind of effect on him and Calum just couldn’t fucking explain it. Physical, it’s only physical.

Still, he nodded with that boyish, eye crinkling grin and said, “I’m up for it.”

It felt so easy as Sam let out a gentle laugh, lips parting to speak up, only to be cut off by a girl’s voice calling out, “Samina, we’re gonna be late for the boat tour!”

Calum watched as she looked over her shoulder and called out “hold on!” before looking back him, and he blinked in realization over the revelation over her full actual name. “Samina,” he sounded before he could help himself, her name sweet on his tongue, and she looked up at him as he did so, her own lips lifting into a smile as she gazed at him promisingly. With a thoughtful mumble, he added, “’S pretty.”

“Sounds pretty when you say it,” Samina told him easily and, shit, Calum was really into how bold she was, how effortlessly she let him know exactly what she was thinking and didn’t at all shy away from what she wanted. Fuck, this was only his second interaction with her and already he was just. . . He didn’t even know what because her words brought such an idiotic grin to his face that he couldn’t even control it. Samina held her hand out and said, “Give me your phone; we can meet up later tonight.”

He pulled the device out of his pocket and unlocked it before handing it to Samina, who did the same for him to put in his own number. Calum did so easily, never really being one who felt hesitant on giving new people his number despite the risk of it getting out, feeling himself smile when he saw her wallpaper that consisted of a dark brown pitbull with bright blue eyes, looking directly into the camera with his tongue hanging out.

When they switched phones back, Samina’s eyes met Calum’s and she raised her eyebrows, pointing at him with her phone. “This is just a two week thing, alright?” she told him, gaze pointed as Calum blinked at her, a mixture of amused and surprised. Samina began walking backwards, the impatient calls from her family increasing. She flashed him a grin, dangerous and gorgeous as Calum held his phone in his hands. “What happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam.”

He understood that. Hell, he appreciated it. Despite the excited churn of his stomach and the tightness of his chest the sight of Samina brought, Calum wasn’t looking for anything more than a good time while he was in the Netherlands. Honestly, he was well aware that his mind hadn’t left him alone by bombarding him with thoughts of Samina, but he was convinced it was because he wanted more than just one fantastic night with her. Two weeks should be more than enough to satiate him before he got back to his hectic life. Calum knew once he was back home and thrown back into his face paced life consistent of band duties, he wouldn’t have a spare moment to think of the gorgeous girl from New York.

Two weeks was enough to have his fun with Samina before going back to reality.

So Calum scoffed out a chuckle and told her, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll delete your number after two weeks.”

She grinned, the distance between them growing as the breeze blowing behind her had her hair flying over her shoulders, tickling her face. Raising her own phone in agreement, she called back, “I look forward to it.”

*****

“I should probably go,” Calum’s voice sounded from the bedroom, a sigh following his words, and Samina raised an eyebrow at her reflection in the mirror as she dried her hands. Pulling the door open the rest of the way, she leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom and shot Calum a questioning look, not at all shying away from admiring the naked man on her bed. He sat up against the headboard, tattooed chest and arms on full display with dark curls messily sitting atop his head, a combination of sex hair and bedhead, a delicious sight against the white of the bedset. He raised his hand, running it through his hair as the muscle of his tattooed bicep flexed and he said, “Yasmin probably wants to be back in her room. I feel bad that we’ve kicked her out.”

Samina let out a soft chuckle at his words, glancing at the empty and made up double bed next to the one Calum was occupying. Pushing herself away from the door, she approached the bed, smirking slightly as she saw Calum’s hungry gaze take her in, unbothered with the desire swimming in his eyes. She was in nothing but his black Conway Studios shirt, dark hair over one shoulder, and she felt her unwavering confidence merely intensify under his intense stare.

He was looking at her like he couldn’t wait to have a taste despite the fact that they both had woken up just minutes before, and Samina’s stomach tightened into excited knots at the hope of giving him exactly what he wanted. “Don’t feel bad,” she told him, flashing a smile as she climbed onto the foot of the bed, sitting on her knees. “She’s sexiled me a bunch of times. I’m only returning the favor.”

Her cousin, well aware that Calum would be arriving, had gathered whatever she’d need for the night and the morning and promptly gone to her older brother’s room across the hall. Samina had made a mental note to pay for lunch today as a way of thanking them for letting her have her fun.

Calum raised his eyebrows, lips tilting into a small amused smile, and Samina would have to be blind not to think how good he looked. Sitting there, just a few minutes after waking up and speaking in a voice hoarse from lack of use and brown eyes ever so slightly sunken in from sleep, a healthy pink flush in his round cheeks. The white bed sheets were gathered at his hips, his wallet and phone discarded on the table between the two beds, looking utterly comfortable where he sat. It tightened a knot in Samina’s stomach, gazing at him and the few marks scattered across the skin of his collarbones and neck. Marking him, she realized belatedly, was becoming a favorite pastime of hers. He was a picture to be painted. Head still leaned back, Calum tilted it to the side before asking, “So basically you’re fuckin’ me to get back at her?”

Samina laughed at the teasing tone in his voice, admiring the glint in his dark eyes and wondering if it was there because he felt as lighthearted as she did or because of the sunlight peeking through the dark purple curtains of her hotel room. She crawled closer towards him, movements slow and purposeful as she said in a honeyed tone, “Revenge is sweet.”

When she got close enough, Calum reached forward and grasped the side of her neck before his hand slid to the back of it just as quickly, pulling her towards him and silencing her surprised laugh by slanting his lips over hers. He kissed her almost bruisingly, feeling her hand press against his chest and likely feel the thrum of his heart as he nipped and sucked at her lower lip, tasting the vanilla flavored chapstick she wore. “I know somethin’ sweeter,” Calum mumbled against her lips, tone gruff and daring as he pulled away slightly, both of them breathing each other in, his lips brushing against hers as he added, “Want you to sit on my face, doll.”

His words prompted a shudder to pass through Samina, the smile wiping from her face as she bit her lower lip when Calum pulled away completely and shifted lower on the bed to lay on his back. She could already pathetically feeling her bones begin to tremble just at his command. Her lack of underwear came in handy, pressing her lips together when Calum let out a groan as she settled her legs on either side of his head and hovered over him, hands gripping the top of the sleek headboard in preparation for what was about to come.

This wouldn’t be the first time she’d felt his mouth on him. It was because she knew what he was capable of that had her heart already erratically beating in her chest, the anticipation of feeling his lips where she desperately craved overwhelming.

Calum’s fingers trailed up her bare thighs, goosebumps being raised by the light touch, his hot breath tickling her gloriously as he dragged hot lazy kisses up the inside of her thigh. Samina could already feel the subtle scratch of his stubble, breath hitching in her throat as his large, warm hands slid up to grasp her hips and, without a word, was tugging her down until his mouth was right on her heat.

She inhaled sharply, eyes shutting and head tilting back at the sensation of Calum’s tongue licking through her folds, feeling the appreciative hum he released vibrate through her body as he got a taste. Samina’s grip on the headboard tightened, knuckles white, as she felt plump lips wrap around her bundle of nerves, paying special attention to it as her left hand instinctively reached down to tangle her fingers in his thick curls, parted lips allowing for a sinful moan to pass.

Every nerve in her body was standing on its end as Calum’s mouth worked her over, fingers digging into her hips almost bruisingly, his skin searing into hers as Samina’s heart pounded in her ears. She felt him deep in her, not for the first time, knowing exactly what to do with his mouth as he licked at her expertly. Samina felt lost in him, in way he made her feel, not for the first time, dizzy and overwhelmed.

“Taste so good, love,” Calum mumbled against her, his throaty voice resonating in her chest and body clenching as his hands teasingly trailed up and down her sides. Her grip on his hair tightened and he groaned into her, and Samina’s closed eyes tightened and her heart damn near burst out of her chest. “So pretty like this.”

She ignored the voice in the back of her mind that told her she’d stay like this forever if she could.

*****

“I can’t believe you’re just. . . Casually having sex with Calum Hood,” Yasmin scoffed as they walked along the pathway, careful not to get in the way of bike riders as she ate from her small cup of ice cream.

Samina shot her a look, plastic spoon in hand so she could scoop out her own frozen treat. “It’s just for while we’re in Amsterdam,” she reminded her cousin, the round framed sunglasses settled on her face preventing her from being blinded by the sun peeking through the trees. It was a beautiful day, sunny with little to no clouds in the sky, and she was strolling through Vondelpark with her family as their first week in the city came to an end. One more and then they’d be going home. “Like, the smallest of summer flings,” she added dismissively after swallowing a mouthful of chocolate ice cream.

Yasmin rolled her light brown eyes, not having any of Samina’s attempts of waving off what she was doing. “Whatever it is, it’s still with Calum Hood. That’s crazy.” Then, after a moment, Yasmin let out a gasp before facing Samina and asking excitedly, “Are you gonna become a groupie?”

Her question could be heard by their brothers walking ahead of them, laughter erupting from them as Samina’s jaw dropped and eyebrows drew together indignantly, a bit affronted that Yasmin would even ask her that. “What? No!” she denied with a huff, clicking her tongue as her grip on the plastic spoon tightened. “I told you, it’s only while we’re here. When we get back to America, it’s over.” She shot Yasmin an insulted look. “Pagal.” (Pagal = stupid).

With a disbelieving shake of her head, Yasmin looked down at her ice cream as she scooped some up in her spoon and hummed unconvincingly, “How you can just smash and forget about someone like him, I don’t even know.”

Samina chuckled, eyes shifting to the body of water to her left, glittering under the bright sun. “I’m sure I’m not the only girl who’s had to do that with Calum.”

Yasmin clicked her tongue. “I don’t care about the other girls. I care about you. Meri behen who is sleeping with Calum Hood,” she added, her voice dropping to a dramatic, thrilled whisper as she leaned towards Samina to say it. (Meri been = my sister).

Bumping her hip against Yasmin’s as she snorted, “Oh, God, chup ho jao,” which only served to make her cousin giggle. (Chup ho jao = be quiet/shut up).

The five of them found a nice spot by the water, settling down on the grass under a tree that provided optimal shade because of Samina’s dislike of being in the sun for too long. The grass tickled Samina’s bare legs thanks to her shorts, but she enjoyed it, just like she enjoyed the cool breeze hitting her over the body of water ahead of them. Sitting cross legged, Samina admired the view in front of her, listened to the vague sounds of people all around her enjoying the beautiful day, and she let out a wistful sigh.

Amsterdam was so bright and colorful, and while New York had its own beauty that she couldn’t live without, Samina knew she was going to miss being in the Netherlands when she went back home. She hadn’t been out of the country in a while, the last time being when she was about twenty and she’d visited Turkey with her parents and brother. But being in Amsterdam with just her brother and cousins gave her a lot more freedom, which, okay, she had when she lived in New York, but being a whole country away had its own fun.

“Hey, appa, it’s your friend,” her brother, Ali’s, voice sounded, the suggestivity he held in his tone not missed by any of them as they followed Ali’s gaze. (Appa = big sister).

Samina’s back straightened at the sight of Calum making his way over, dressed in black pants and a peach Elvis shirt, accompanied by his band mates. She bit the inside of her lower lip at the sight of him and his unruly curls, his dark eyes obscured by his sunglasses. For a moment Samina had forgotten that she’d told Calum he and his friends were welcome to join them on their park outing after asking her family if it was okay with them, and Calum had agreed.

It was a short term friendship they had formed, Samina understood. They screwed around but were friendly, even so far as hanging out together with all of their friends—Yasmin had a field day meeting all of 5 Seconds of Summer, and Samina had been proud that her cousin saved her freak out until they were in the quiet of their shared hotel room.

Truthfully, Samina enjoyed Calum’s company—how could she not? The two of them talk quite a bit when they’re together, casually getting to know one another laying in bed after they were both spent, or out on the balconies of their respective hotel rooms as Calum pulled out his packet of cigarettes. He talked about the band and his music and his dog, talked about everything with passion in his voice and a bright glimmer in his eyes that had Samina listening intently. Calum absolutely loved what he did, Samina could tell just by the way he spoke of it, and frankly, she loved listening to him talk. Could do so for hours.

She’d listen to him, and as they’d sit on the balcony of his hotel room drinking mimosas that he’d ordered from room service just because he could, Calum would listen to her tell him some things about her own life. He’d scroll through pictures of her dog, Jax, and coo over how adorable he was, and take in every word she spoke about her dream job of working as a writer for a successful beauty care magazine. It was so easy with him, Samina couldn’t help but think. There were no awkward moments or pauses, conversation flowing easily whether they were in bed or in the shower, soft giggles and amused chuckles sounding as he’d watch her do her makeup or he’d screw around and pull some questionable dance moves in the room when the music was playing and he was just in his boxers and an undone button up.

She was comfortable with him, too much so over just the short amount of time she’d known him, and it was. . . Disappointing that all of it would just be a memory of Amsterdam after they parted ways.

The four Australians reached them, all sounding their friendly greetings and doing that guy handshake thing with her cousins and brother before settling down on the grass with them. “Hey,” Calum greeted her with an easy grin, settling next to her as he crossed his legs. Up close, she could make out his eyes from behind the lens of his sunglasses, and caught the way he gave her a once over, taking in her denim shorts and a colorful striped crop top. “You look pretty.”

Samina grinned, the compliment blushing her cheeks and making her heart jump, but she didn’t let any of that show save for the brilliant smile she shot him. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she promised, still beaming as she wrapped her lips around a spoonful of ice cream and everyone dissolved into their own conversations.

He returned her smirk, leaning back against the thick trunk of the tree raising his cup of iced tea and bringing the straw to his lips as he teased, “I’m well aware.”

She let out a startled laugh through a dropped jaw, eyes widening as Calum dissolved into snickers and she bumped her shoulder against his. “Shut up,” Samina shook her head, the grin still on her face as Calum leaned into her as she straightened, arms still pressed together, the scent of his no doubt expensive cologne wafting over her. She felt the warmth of his body seep into her where their arms touched, neck tensing as she looked down at her ice cream before scooping some into her spoon and looking at Calum. “Want some?”

“Chocolate?” At Samina’s nod, Calum opened his mouth and she snorted in amusement, holding the spoon out and watching as his lips wrapped around it and ate off the ice cream. His eyes were trained on hers, looking at her over the rim of his sunglasses, and even with them being shielded from the sun she could see the glint in his eyes that made her stomach tense.

“Ballsy move on your part,” Samina found herself saying once the spoon was returned to her, quirking an eyebrow as Calum’s throat worked to swallow the ice cream. “What if you were caught by the paparazzi?” she asked in mock horror, widening her eyes dramatically before falling into giggles, unable to keep a straight face.

Calum snorted, unfolding his legs to bring his knees up to his chest, head leaning back against the tree. “We’ve barely been photographed while we’re here. Amsterdam is one of the chillest places we’ve ever visited.” He smirked once more, looking over at Samina as he added, “Our secret’s safe.”

Samina raised her eyebrows, her smile playful as she joked, “You mean you don’t wanna be seen with a pretty Pakistani girl?” She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder before shrugging. “Your loss.”

He laughed, amusement lighting up his face as he rested his arms on his knees, hands still holding onto his cards as he ducked his head towards her, eyeing her expectantly. Samina leaned towards Calum as he lowered his voice, as if he was about to tell her a secret, and murmured, “Want the pretty Pakistani girl to myself. I suck at sharing.”

His words brought a fierce heat to Samina’s cheeks, throat drying at the effect he had on her. But she grinned anyway as he smiled, charming and boyish, satisfied with his answer, as she watched her cousin Daniyal, or Danny as he preferred, pull out a deck of cards and asked the group if anyone was down to play something. So they rearranged the way they were sitting, forming a circle to easily play. Samina picked up the cards she was dealt, pressing them to her chest and leaning away from Calum as he tried to get a look at her hand, and the grin on her face couldn’t be wiped off if she tried as he laughed an adorable laugh that was equal parts deep and breathy.

Samina looked around, the smile on her face turning fond yet lessening as she realized as fun as this was, it was only temporary. She glanced at Calum, who was laughing at something Ali had just said, crinkles by his eyes and cheeks pushed up happily, and Samina expertly ignored the tug in her chest. Temporary.

Refusing to think of the times she and her family joined Calum and the guys for lunch or to bars because they all truly got along was going to be difficult. Trying not to think of how in a week’s time, all of this would be a mere memory and she’d never get to feel Calum’s lips on hers or his hands memorizing her body was slowly but surely becoming something she wasn’t too sure she’d be capable of doing.

A fling was all that she wanted, nothing more, as did he. She was sure she could handle it.

Despite her heart jumping every time she heard Calum laugh, or feeling her skin burn wherever he touched it, Samina repeatedly told herself that she could handle it. Reminded herself she didn’t have time for anything more than what they agreed upon. It would never work anyway.

Her with a man as talented and demanded as Calum? The fact that she was sleeping with him in the first place was utterly ridiculous. Nothing more would come of it.

Samina’s eyes slid over to Calum, who was gazing down at his hand of cards with a look of adorable concentration on his face, before he felt her gaze upon and him looked at her. He smirked, leaning away ever so slightly as he teased, “Hey, quit lookin’.”

She let out an absent chuckle before dropping her gaze back to her own cards, teeth pressing together as she suppressed the disenchanted sigh threatening to escape. Eventually, all she would be able to do was look. She’ll only be able to look at pictures and videos of him, unable to feel him against her the way she got to do now. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and no amount of chocolate ice cream would be able to sweeten it.

*****

They faced each other, the last of the two who had yet to say goodbye, standing in the middle of the bustling airport before they went their separate ways to their separate gates. Samina wasn’t going to lie—to herself, at least—but she felt a subtle weight settle on her chest as she gazed at Calum. Her two weeks in Amsterdam had been the best she’s ever had, the freedom she got to take part in with her brother and cousins a taste she’d never forget. And the time she got to spend with Calum, which, admittedly, was a lot more than she’d spend with any casual fling, had been dizzying. Actually hanging out with him and his bandmates hadn’t been part of the plan, but when things just happened, she went with the flow, and Samina was glad she did.

But now there were here, standing in the middle of Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, about to turn their backs on one another to go back to their respective homes and leave Amsterdam behind them. It was almost funny, Samina considered, that they happened to be leaving on the same day with their flights just a few minutes apart.

“What happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam, right?” Calum spoke up, smiling down at her with a raise of his eyebrows. She tried not to think of how cosy he looked, dressed in grey sweats and the black Conway Studios shirt she’d worn just recently, a backpack on along with a cap covering his dark hair.

She returned the easy smile, hand gripping the handle of her carry-on suitcase, as he repeated her words back to her. Samina, honestly, felt a tug in her heart as she thought of the realization that, yeah, this was it. This was what they agreed on. Fooling around in the haze of Amsterdam before they were taken back to reality. Hell, it had been her idea and, for the most part, she’d been perfectly content with that.

So she expertly ignored the dullness she felt at the inevitability of saying goodbye.

“Right,” Samina responded with a breathy smile, throat working as she pulled out her phone and unlocked it. Her dark eyes met Calum’s, quirking an eyebrow as she asked with a subtle laugh, “Shall we?”

Knowing exactly what she was talking about, Calum let out a breathless chuckle of his own and pulled out his phone, the lack of case something that made Samina extremely nervous. Samina turned her attention to her own device, looking down at it as the smile on her face faltered ever so slightly when her gaze turned to Calum’s contact on her phone. She’d already deleted their text conversations, that in itself making her stomach twist uncomfortably, and deleting his number would just make it even more real. Confirm the fact that after this, they wouldn’t be seeing each other again unless they happened to run into each other randomly, and even that was a slim chance.

God, did she even want to see him again?

Samina’s gaze briefly flickered up at Calum, who was looking down at his own phone with dark curls falling over his forehead, and swallowed the tiniest of lumps that had formed in his throat. Of course she wanted to see him again. But she wouldn’t and, Samina knew, with time she’d learn to be okay with it.

She looked at her phone and pressed delete.

“So this is it.” She looked up and saw Calum looking at her, a small close mouthed smile on his lips as he pocketed his phone, and Samina wondered if he was experiencing the same confusing, conflicting feelings that were mucking up her mind and heart. Did he also feel this weird sensation of wanting to stay, of wanting just a minute longer? Or was she the only one unsure of what she was feeling? His smile widened a fraction as he said sincerely, “I had a lot of fun, Samina, and not just. . .” He trailed off with a near sheepish laugh, ducking his head as he did so because he didn’t exactly want to say what he was going to, and it brought a smile to Samina’s face too, despite the weight settled on her shoulders. Calum looked back up, brown eyes meeting brown, as he added, “I enjoyed gettin’ to know you.”

For a moment, she wanted to tell him that they didn’t get to know each other, not really. They talked about their pets and their careers, with speckles of conversations dedicated to their families, but that was it. They’d barely scratched the surface in all of the talks they had. Samina knew it was because that what they had was casual, a fling that had no real depth in it, so there really was no point in divulging their life stories to one another—especially Calum’s, whose life for the most part was out there for the world to look into. It was understandable he kept whatever privacy he had left to himself, and she never really expected for him to let her in on more than just an acquaintance level. Casual, casual, casual.

They didn’t really know each other. All they knew was each other’s bodies, what made them tick, what was good for them. They knew each other physically. That had been the plan. Samina ignored the seed of disappointment that was planting itself in her heart.

And despite the thoughts running rampant in her mind, she didn’t dare let it show.

So she faked it. “Same here, Mr. Rockstar,” Samina responded, grinning teasingly as he scoffed out a laugh. Her smile softened, lips pursing momentarily as she said, “I’d say hit me up if you’re in New York, but—”

“What happens in Amsterdam, stays in Amsterdam,” he repeated knowingly, his own smile lessening ever so slightly as he fixed his cap, and Samina took in a breath. When those words had been playful when she first uttered them, in this moment, they wrapped around her heart like a fist and squeezed almost painfully.

Overhead, an accented voice announced that Samina’s flight would start boarding soon, and her eyes met Yasmin’s who looked at her expectantly. “Say hi to Sophie’s for me.” Calum’s words dragged Samina’s gaze back to him and she let out a soft chuckle. “And have a safe flight.”

“You too,” she returned, surprised that her voice didn’t get as tight as she felt it being, taking a breath. This was it. She ignored the ache of wanting to stay, of wanting to feel his kisses once more, forcing a smile onto her lips.

Calum let out a breath and Samina wasn’t sure why she was so surprised when he ducked and pulled her in for a hug, arms wrapping around her shoulders as her cheek pressed against his chest. It shocked her, despite having given him casual hugs before, but this was different. This had her wrapping her arms around his waist as she pressed her hands against his lower back below his backpack, eyes closing as she was engulfed in his strong arms and familiar scent.

She could feel his cheek pressing against the top of her head, and Samina’s throat tightened as her eyebrows knitting together slightly. The acknowledgment of never being able to feel this again sat heavily in the pit of her stomach, dried her throat as they held each other one last time. Yet, somehow, this felt more intimate than anything else they’d done. And that hurt.

They pulled away reluctantly, both acutely aware of their friends looking at them, though they paid them no mind. Calum’s hand was on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, where it once had been in much more incriminating circumstances, and his thumb rubbed at her skin briefly as he gave her a smile and let go. “Bye, Samina.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, she didn’t want him to let go.

She held onto the handle of her carry-on once more, her grip tight to anchor herself as a way of ignoring the turbulent emotions she was trying so hard not to acknowledge. Emotions she wasn’t supposed to be feeling in the first place and kept telling herself that Calum wasn’t feeling them at all. Maybe that would make it easier, to know it was all in her head, that it was unrequited.

Samina took a step back, offering a gentle smile, not the brilliant ones that made his heart jump into his throat. Though, even the smallest of grins had his breath rushing out of his lungs, if he was being honest. “Bye, Calum,” she returned softly and, with a bite of her lower lip, turned around and followed her family to where their gate was.

Calum stood, watching her go, feeling his friends step up around him. He tried to look away from her retreating figure, told himself that it was stupid of him to expect for her to look back. Yet he stayed put with his heart in his throat and a chant of come on, come on, come on being whispered through his mind, hoping she’d turn around. What that’d do for him other than just twist his heart, Calum wasn’t sure. Still, he yearned for it. Just one last look.

“It’s okay to want to miss her,” Ashton spoke, his tone quiet and understanding.

Calum watched her go, watched her turn the corner and disappear from his sight, and his stomach dropped like a rock, disappointment flooding him as he told himself almost immediately what an idiot he was. Why would she look back? It was pathetic of him to expect her to do so.

He took a step back, hands gripping the straps of his backpack and eyes still looking where she had disappeared, the heat of his friends’ gazes burning his skin. Calum’s throat worked and jaw tightened, and he took a breath. “There’s nothin’ to miss.”

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie14 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @livibii123 @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @heartbreak-5sos @thew0rdneedsmcreycghurt @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @hzi0 @aulxna @mermaiden004 @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @hoodsmelancholy @iplaybassfor5sos @josierosie @cal-pal-cuddles @calsophat @cashton-queen @sublimehood @bloodlinecal @flannelpunkcalum @ghostofch @ghostofhood @5sos-stan4lyfe

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darkhymns-fic · 4 years

Text

And I want to be held, I want to be held by those arms

When Lloyd visits Flanoir after his mission from Martel, he remembers all that he missed - slowly, painfully, as Colette shows him more forgiveness than he deserves.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: T Notes: Takes place during Dawn of the New World after Lloyd gets back with the group. Sometimes you just gotta write some angst in these times.

The sharp cuff to the face had been a brief spark of life to Lloyd in the last few months.

“You monster! You killed my sister!”

The man’s voice in front of him cracked. If the punch hadn’t made him stumble, the grief in that voice did. Just enough that his left foot shifted backwards in the snow, against the slate of the pathways that made up the streets of Flanoir. He hadn’t been here in so long.

“This is a mistake! That wasn’t Lloyd!” someone had shouted back in defense. Lloyd wasn’t sure who. The other’s voice still resounded in his head, still pierced his skull despite doing all he could to not let it show on his face.

But over the past few months, he had only known distance and cold nights, known dark ruins in search for the Cores, known starry skies with no one to share it with. His cheek ached, and his arms felt as if they were weighed down with lead.

I deserve this anyway.

And like that, Lloyd took in all the biting hatred and despair that was still being thrown his way, long after the man had left with tears streaming down his face.

He thought he felt something in his own eyes before he finally left the others, saying he needed to be alone.

Lloyd had felt very little for so long. At least the pain gave him something.

“Lloyd?”

When she came by, it was like the soft memory of a dream that kept being on repeat, one that he wished he hadn’t had to wake up from before.

Lloyd smiled as best he could. “Hey, Colette… what are you doing out here?”

Because the last time, it had been her who had called him out to the balcony, out into the cold where her skin was feeling the brisk air. Few could have gone out into a snowstorm with a happy grin like she did. So, he had wanted to feel the cold too, placing his own hands into the snowbanks, starting a sudden snowball fight that Colette had already prepared for with a sneaky lob of snow aimed at his head.

That really had only been two years ago, hadn’t it? Time felt so still.

Colette had already reached for his hands, despite them being gloved, despite him not holding back at first. He stared at the touch with blank eyes, seemingly unable to understand what was happening to him right now.

“You’re hurt. You don’t have to hide that from us… from me.” Colette gripped his fingers tightly, the snow catching onto her hair, melting against her cheeks. “You’re not on your own, remember?”

Still, he couldn’t speak at first. He kept staring at how she held him. At her hands.

“Lloyd?” Colette repeated, following his gaze. “I’m sorry… should I not have-”

“It’s been so long since I felt you,” he said suddenly. The words came out hoarse, as if scraping against his ribs in all its pain. Hearing that from himself, he winced.

It had just been months of traveling, months of keeping his mouth shut for the sake of his mission, for his pact with Martel. And each night alone had been so cold and made his hands feel numb.

His face still ached from the punch, but the spike of pain from it had been sudden, revitalizing something in his limbs that it frightened him for a moment. And as the snow fell, as it made everything so quiet, the numbness had come back.

Colette’s fingers entwined with his, her body moving closer. The embrace felt natural suddenly, like back then.

“Is this what you need?” she asked him, murmuring into his jacket. The snow was still in her hair. He buried his face in it, giving himself to both her heat and the chill of the world surrounding them.

Telling her he loved her made him feel something again too.

It was hard letting her go – even after they both went to his room.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, the cold finally getting to him, teeth chattering just slightly. At least it helped him with his grin. “I get cold easily now.”

“Heh, it’s okay,” she reassured, rubbing her hands against his arms. “Does this help?”

“A little, yeah,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Thanks.”

She giggled, the room a bit dark with only the lamplights from outside giving any light. “Remember when you used to do the same with me?”

“Yeah, you were freezing! I was worried that you got like, frostbite or something…”

How weirdly easy it was to fall back into this again – full of normalcy and settling into a rhythm that he realized had been gone for so long. Before, it had all just been a pull of either constant stumbling in the dark, or staying still, so still he could barely feel himself breathe.

But now, he smiled, and Colette was here, touching him so gratefully. His eyes half-shut, feeling her palms press against the sleeves of his jacket. “Need to make sure you don’t freeze too!” she said happily. Her cheeks were still red, and she flicked glances at Lloyd, shy as her own smile was shining in the dark.

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her again, but he felt his body sink against her hands. His head lowered a bit, cheek pressed against hers. He could hear the hitch in her breath, the room so quiet. “I think it’s making me sleepy…”

Colette didn’t say anything at first. Her touch moved from his arms towards his hands, then pulled him along to the bed that sat lonely within the middle of the inn’s room.

But they didn’t sit on it, not yet.

“Lloyd…tell me how long you’ve been gone.” She finally looked at him directly, her voice hushed, not wanting to disturb the falling snow.

Even after Lloyd finally met up with friends, could finally speak with them in more than half-words, time couldn’t seem to sync with him. Just movement, just the pact hanging over his head, the danger always present. “I’m not…really sure.”

“Almost 10 months,” Colette said quickly. Maybe there was a hint of something accusing in it – but not like everyone else. The accusing eyes of the grieving brother in the town square, the strained voice of Emil and… “But you know that.”

A hint of confusion. He shook his head. “What do you…”

Her hands swiftly moved away from his, and it was like being shut away in the dark. Cold and far deep into something nameless.

Back underneath the starry skies with no one.

Back into the ruins where the air was thin and monsters teemed among the stones, the pathways blending in among each other.

Back into the numbness and not remembering what day it was or how long he had been gone, how long he had away –

Lloyd instantly reached for her hands again, gripping tight. “Please don’t,” he said, his voice breaking.

Colette said nothing, but she looked at him, her fingers entwining with his. “Lloyd…”

He was shaking. Because of the cold. It was just cold. But something inside him continued to tremble. His cheek still burned, the pain still there, reminding him.

“I can’t…remember…when we…”

He watched Colette carefully, his eyes now long adjusted to the dark, always to the dark. She was biting her lip, thinking hard – and then her hands went to his left, where his Exsphere glinted from the lamplights.

“The snow made this damp,” she said, voice still so soft. She peeled away the glove, even as it stuck to his skin. “You’ll definitely get sick with this on.”

Her hand made contact with his, fingers brushing against his knuckles, his palm. Like sparks, but warm and bursting instead of suddenness overwrought by grief.

“This one too?” she asked tentatively, taking his other hand. He didn’t move, didn’t react. If he moved too much, would she stop touching him? He didn’t want her to stop touching him.

Colette drew out her movements, fingers slipping underneath the hem of his second glove. His hand lay limp in her lap, absorbing the curves of the folds in her dress, like the ocean waves caught at a standstill within the night.

His hands were cold and shaking, and she held them with hers, bubbles of warmth erupting at every patch of him that she touched. The soft rush of her skin on his, the slight tickle of her thumb against his wrist.

Why did this all feel so new to him?

“Can you…” he started, stopped, like a missed step in that darkness he had been too long used to.

“Yes, Lloyd?” she asked him, still rubbing his hands gently, so gently, the way he would start a campfire when the winds bit through his jacket, pierced through his skull.

“You’ll…stay with me?” he asked. Some other sound left him. He tried to cover it up by clearing his throat. “I mean…just for a little while. I think that guy hit me harder than I thought.”

Small jokes that he said to try to lighten the air, even as the snow gripped it tight. Colette smiled. Her eyes went to their clasped hands. “You have to promise me something though.”

The word echoed through him; the press of a necklace in his hand, her eyes like the washed-out sunset over the ocean. But those were before, long before, if he could just remember that.

“Okay,” he said, to keep himself steady.

“You have to trust me.”

The skies came back to him; to a time where his chest felt to bursting as he clung to her tight. Trust me to know of your pain.

He can’t keep being a hypocrite to her.

Many of the past months to Lloyd were a complete blank to him.

He knew that there were gaps in his memory – the last clear one he had was visiting Dirk back home, hugging his father so tightly before rushing off, laughing off any worries. This was his promise to the pact, and he would see it through. And in the end, Colette would forgive him.

Yet sometimes, he found himself in a town that he had no recollection of ever entering through its gates. Or he would see stone above him, the light of a Core just a few feet away. Martel said her power would protect him, but he had questioned, and touching the cores sometimes felt too sharp and invasive, like running his hands over something poisonous.

At some point, Colette had drawn him down to the bed. He didn’t recall how, but he didn’t feel fear over it now. She was lightly touching his hands, then to his arms, revisiting every place that she had once known as second to her own skin.

He watched, fascinated, at every motion. He could have done so for hours.

“I think I just…stopped paying attention to everything else after a while,” he finally said. Colette’s hands moved to his collar then, pressing lightly against the back of his neck. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, fingers pressing against the knots in his skin. “I thought maybe it was the pact doing it but…I’m not so sure now.”

It was easier to do things when one was numb to everything, wasn’t it? Or was it even harder than before?

“So…you weren’t just ignoring all of us?” Colette asked. And there was the small change in her tone. He rarely heard her angry, even if it was soft and more an impression of it than reality. And yet he felt its contours, its meanings, the way it stuck inside his chest like thorns.

“I didn’t want to,” he could only excuse. Colette’s hands moved underneath his collar, then forward, reaching the top button of his jacket. “I hadn’t heard about Palmacosta until later…”

The gaps in his head had been so frequent by then. For a time, he had wondered, and tried to keep his hands away from his swords unless he absolutely needed to use them.

In the shadows, he saw the worry etched into Colette’s face, fine sand that made its mark over the course of only a few years. Had she always been this worried? It took him too long to notice. “It was hard convincing the Church to not condemn you for that.”

“…Yeah, I’d…think so.” And still, his imposter was out there. Still, that one man’s grief would never heal.

“So many didn’t want to listen to me. Zelos said I shouldn’t be trying to reason with them, that I should just say to them…um…I can’t…repeat it, heh.” A hint of a smile, lighting up the subject, making the thorns sting less. “But people were scared and so many still depend on the Church. So I promised that I would find you, and when I finally did…you just…”

Like some echo through the night. Lloyd couldn’t remember. “I don’t remember,” he said.

“You barely even looked at me.”

The thorns came back. He reached up to take her hand. “I’m sorry-”

“Wait,” she said, voice quieter again. “Your jacket is wet too, you know.”

A slow blink. He let go of her hand, felt her reach for the other buttons, unclasping them gently.

A few times she had done this for him on their own journey. When he would be so tired from all the walking, and just lay back in the grass as Colette played with his collar strips, tying them both into ribbons, or counting the buttons along his sleeves, marveling at just how many Dirk had thought to put on them. Small things that resurfaced, hidden away by something engulfing.

When Colette tugged at his sleeves, he let his arm slip through, only then noticing how his front had already opened, his suspenders pulled down. Half-asleep, half-disbelieving, he felt her hands press against his shoulders, taking everything down. The wind was chill, even inside the inn room, but her touch washed over him like warm sunshine.

Colette furrowed her brows in the dark. “You’re shaking,” she said. “Am I hurting you?”

“No…” He shook his head. “No, no, you’re not, just…” He pulled her close, cold at first, one hand against her waist. But his skin pressed against hers and it was searing and blissful and all he ever wanted. “Keep touching me.”

Colette still hesitated – unsure of whatever emptiness was still within him, even after reuniting with everyone. Something that made him fall away from everyone’s pleas for him, time and time again. Her hands tentatively slid across his arms, not quick and teasing like before, but soft and careful, like she was mapping the shapes of sharp glass.

“10 months…not just from me but… no one else at all?”

Lloyd only faintly understood, still holding onto her form, his shaking becoming less.

“You saw no one else,” she stated. “Or talked with anyone…hugged anyone…”

He blinked, the realization coming upon him in small waves. It seemed so…strange when he thought about it. “I guess I didn’t…Yuan doesn’t exactly like to give hugs,” Lloyd joked, though his laughter came off weak. “And…it’d be weird with Martel, wouldn’t it?”

But the expression on Colette remained serious, remained sad. Her hair fell against his neck as she shifted over to him. “But you’ve not even gone to see Dirk at all? Noishe?” Colette’s voice was full of regrets. “You’ve not felt anyone?”

Her hands moved from his arms to his chest, one moving underneath the hem of his shirt. He flinched slightly, but never moved away.

In the nights before with Colette, he would always be surrounded by her. In the nights after, he would be alone and cold, and the sky would be so engulfing that he’d fall away into it if he wasn’t careful.

It’s a blur, when she removes the rest of his clothes – his shirt, already upended past his head. Her hands were steadier when they reached his belts, unlatching the catch there, then gently having him lay back against the headboard.

There were nights when they had undressed each other, loved each other, when the nights felt warm instead of cold, felt reassuring instead of frightening.

Just the touch of her hand brought forth everything he had ever loved about her, in stark detail, as if he was even younger now, catching Colette within the starlight as she rushed towards her home with a wave to him.

“Remember when you’d always reach for my hand?” she was saying, sounding more at ease. Pretending for his sake? Or was she also…? “Even when we were kids… you never gave it a thought.” She giggled, still so close. It was only then he saw her unhook her overcoat, moving from her shoulders like water.

Like on the balcony from years back, she was moving towards him, but she didn’t need to ask his permission. He had already wanted her to give whatever she could. Her dress fell away, her stockings, her shoes, and then she was on top of him, the invigorating sensation of her skin all that he ever knew.

He panted, just slightly, and still Colette stayed, pressing her forehead against his chest. “And you were always still so careful when you did. Even when I felt you wanted to hold my hand harder, or hug me more…and I wanted that too.”

He could barely speak. His body was singing. His hands pressed against her naked sides. Overwhelming, drowning, when for months he only felt dirt and stone and the biting wind.

He couldn’t survive without this. He had been so close to not doing so. Dirk, who had taught him how to give the best bear hugs, Noishe who would always sidle up to him at every opportunity when they would walk outside, even Genis letting Lloyd surprise him with tackles or a friendly pat on the shoulder. And Colette, accepting his hand, gentle and waiting and eager.

Maybe if his time away from everyone had been shorter – just a month or maybe even less – he wouldn’t need this from Colette. Even after they had first started to go beyond brief touches, he had never felt this desperate, this hurting.

Colette’s chest was against his, and he took in a sharp breath. His hands went to her shoulders. “Colette…”

Her hair covered his face, shutting away the lamplight from outside. “Is this what you need?” she asked, and the tone was different, was careful. She was so, so careful with him.

“I…” He swallowed. His body arched, trying to catch every sensation, every part of her. “It’s just…Colette, it’s just been so long..”

She hushed him, and there was her smile, weathering even the worst of everything. And he wanted to apologize to her, to say he never wanted to leave her to deal with a world all alone. For he had now done the same and the loneliness was so unbearable and agonizing, and what if all that he felt, Colette did too? But she would smile and shake away those worries for him, and he couldn’t be responsible for that again-

She kissed him, her touch bringing everything back, and as he closed his eyes, he was once again a young boy seeing Colette leave the schoolhouse by herself, already rushing towards her and asking to take her hand.

#tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloyd #fanfiction #one shot #this refuses to show up in the tags for some reason i give up #oh it was the ao3 link now?? tumblr give me a break

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yamagucci-x · 4 years

Text

“Will you stop fidgeting?”

Kageyama was frowning at him from the window seat, one eye open as he adjusted his position against the window.

He’d actually fallen asleep against Hinata, but he gently tipped his partner in the other direction and, luckily, Kageyama hadn’t noticed. The softness of Kageyama’s cheek against his head, the warmth of his body and steadiness of his breathing— it’d been too much. Hinata’s cheeks began to burn again, from embarrassment at the butterflies fluttering in his stomach and from anger. He’d been a bad partner lately, he knew. Weird, flighty, unfocused. Their attempts to use the yumi form were a disaster, because of him. He knew it was bad when he found out Kageyama had asked Kenma of all people if something was wrong with him.

He felt so stupid, he wanted to tear his hair out. Or worse, he wanted to blurt out all his feelings at once. But instead he just looked past Kageyama to the landscape whizzing by as their train snaked up the coast. “I’m just excited to go to the beach.”

Kageyama sat up, rubbing his eyes. “We’re not here for vacation, idiot, we’re here to stop a serial killer from becoming a kishin egg.”

Hinata bit the inside of his lip. “Right.” Kageyama was focusing on the job, and so should he— the lives of the people in this seaside town depended on them, and they needed to collect the demon soul. Hinata took a breath and tried to calm his racing thoughts; he couldn’t afford an erratic or unsteady soul right now. If his partner was holding up his end of their bargain, he had to do the same. They were weapon and meister, nothing more and nothing less. The thought didn’t go down without bitterness.

Kageyama was still looking at him, studying him with a gaze Hinata swore could see straight into his soul. “Hinata, are you- okay?” A pained look came into Kageyama’s face, like he had just swallowed something distasteful. “If something’s going on you can, y’know, talk to m-”

A blast from the train’s whistle interrupted him as they pulled into the station. Hinata sighed in relief.

They were busy from the moment they left the train, interviewing residents and following leads, but still Hinata was distracted. Even as they zeroed in on their target he couldn’t keep the creeping doubts away. He hated hiding his feelings, it wasn’t like him, but was he really willing to risk this partnership? Was he even worthy of this partnership to begin with? How did he ever think he could really keep up with Kageyama, who had enough power and skill and confidence to get any partner he wanted?

Night fell. They found their killer but kept their distance, watching from the rooftops until the right opportunity presented itself. Hinata was trying to ground himself, to focus on the coolness of the sea breeze or the sound of chatter in the street below, but swirling insecurities were making his mind jittery. He watched Kageyama’s quiet, handsome profile in the moonlight. It was like that one October morning all over again, when they ran in the dawn light together. The thought made heat creep up his neck.

Kageyama’s eyes widened.

“We’ve been spotted,” he hissed. Still as a stone one moment, the next he sprang into action and leapt off the roof, calling, “Hinata, katana mode!” A jolt went through Hinata’s body. He needed to move, but it was like his mind had sewn sutures from his body to the ground. He hesitated. Kageyama hit the ground running, or at least he was about to when he realized his weapon wasn’t already in his hand. “Dammit, Hinata!”

Hinata met his eyes for one awful second as he forced his body to jump and transform into a dark, gleaming blade. Kageyama’s familiar grip caught him on a spin and they took off after their target. “I’m sorry, Kageyama, I don’t know what-”

“Save it.” Kageyama’s voice was steely. “He’s getting away- knife mode!”

Shit. He shrank into a tanto blade. He could feel Kageyama’s anger, his confusion, his overwhelming drive to win. Who knew if they’d be able to find this guy again if they let him get away. Kageyama pulled his arm back, ready to throw. It was his mistake, his fault, all because—

“Hinata-”

He heard Kageyama gasp right before his arm snapped forward and Hinata was sent hurtling toward the back of the serial killer. He’d lost control for a second and the hilt of the knife burned just as his partner let go. It wasn’t as bad as the time he’d shocked Kageyama with his wavelength, but it threw the trajectory off and the blade sank hilt-deep into stucco as the demon dashed around a corner. Hinata transformed back into a human and sank down against the wall with a groan. He wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth as he stood.

Kageyama came sprinting up to him and grabbed his shoulders, his face close. “Hinata! Are you alright?” There was a sort of wild look in his eyes as they met his partner’s.

“I’m fine. Your hand-”

Kageyama pulled away, clenching his fist before Hinata could look at his palm. “Dammit, how are we gonna catch up with him? I should’ve been faster, gone after him myself-”

A wave of hot shame and anger crashed over Hinata. When he had turned into such a baby? His stupid wallowing had gotten them into this situation in the first place, and now his partner was trying to take the blame? He exhaled deeply, pushing out all the uncertainty and fear that had clouded his mind for weeks. His eyes flashed open and he pushed Kageyama square in the chest. “Shut up! It was my fault, I hesitated and I’m sorry. But don’t you dare act like you could do this on your own, that’s not how this works!” He forced himself to meet Kageyama’s eyes. “There’s only one thing we can do now. We have to try it.”

Kageyama blinked in surprise for a moment, but his face became drawn when he understood. “No. It’s never worked and I won’t risk using something I don’t know will succeed in battle.”

“We already haven’t succeeded! We can do it, Kageyama, I know we can.” Hinata’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Just trust me.”

Kageyama studied Hinata for a second, but they had no time to lose. “Fine,” he held out his hand, “I trust you.”

A grin spread across Hinata’s face as he grasped his partner’s hand tightly.

“Let’s go, soul resonance!”

Their souls reached out for one another, fitting easily together. They were both desperate to win, desperate to make the new form work, but somehow in the pressure of battle they managed to control it, utilize it, instead of being overtaken by it. Hinata knew he couldn’t be afraid of his feelings for Kageyama anymore; that admiration, that trust, that care only made him stronger. Kageyama trusted him. That was all he needed.

Their mingled cries rose in the street as their resonance rate increased, changing from a ricocheting vibration to a finely tuned hum. Hinata pictured the bow form in his mind and willed his body to change. He could feel some resistance, some part of his mind that still clung to fear, but he harnessed the energy flowing between he and Kageyama’s souls, uniting them, and pushed forward.

Kageyama inhaled as the new weapon took form in his hands, its asymmetrical curve arching above his head. His lips curled in a smile as he raised the bow, eyes narrowing on the retreating figure of the demon serial killer. “Ready?”

“Ready!” Hinata called. He focused on Kageyama’s soul wavelength, searching for the part of him that was sharp, unrelenting, powerful. He grasped it, took it within his own soul, and compressed it as Kageyama pulled back the yumi’s string. An arrow appeared, light blue and crackling with energy like lightning.

“Your soul is ours, scumbag,” Kageyama murmured as he released the taut string.

His aim was true. The arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself square in the target’s back, exploding in a shockwave of soul energy. They heard a strangled cry as the killer’s body hovered in the air and convulsed before being swallowed up into darkness. All that remained was a bobbing red soul.

Kageyama exhaled. There was a flash of light and Hinata appeared next to him. They turned to each other, mouths hanging open and eyes wide with disbelief. An excited redness came into their cheeks. “That was so cool!” they cried in unison.

“Hell yeah, we did it!” Kageyama held up his hands with a grin.

Hinata high-fived him, wrapping his thumbs around Kageyama’s hands. He lingered for a moment too long, caught up in his partner’s rare smile, and a jolt of yearning and embarrassment brought him back to reality. He ripped his hands away, turning to hide how red his face was.

“I should, um, go get that soul,” he said, clearing his throat. His heart was still pounding as he jogged to the other end of the alley and devoured what was left of the demon.

They were quiet on the train ride back to the Academy. Kageyama fell asleep on him again, but this time Hinata didn’t move him. Instead he rested his head on Kageyama’s shoulder and tried to ignore the warm feeling budding in his chest, letting the gentle rhythm of his partner’s breathing lull him to sleep.

#soul eater au

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reformedkingsmanagent · 5 years

Text

{Batter Up} Part 5/? (nsfw)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

A/N: I tried to avoid keeping you guys waiting too long for the follow up to Part 4. I know how I left it (please don’t hate me!) so hopefully this makes up for it.

Obligatory nsfw warning for this part.

This is your final warning...

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

It was like something was unlocked in Steve. He was so, so eager. Whatever hangups he’d had while sitting on that couch were gone.

And boy, were you grateful. It had been a long time, way too long, since you had this sort of connection with another person.

Still, you didn’t feel like you were close enough, despite there not being even a millimeter of space between the two of you. Your clothes had never felt so restrictive.

Is it hot? It’s very hot.

As his hand slid up to cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, you were finally forced to stop to breathe.

He kept his cheek pressed tightly against yours, your whole body arched against him, his other hand spread wide over your lower back as you clung to his jacket.

As he lifted his head, you searched his eyes.

More?

***

More.

Every touch left him wondering what on earth he was trying to avoid in the first place, it all felt so good.

He felt you pushing against him. He complied, moving back until his hip hit the counter. A quick glance down at it with your hands on his neck, trying to steer his lips back to yours, got him to act.

He pulled you along down the narrow hallway, taking his time, marking each slow step with a renewed kiss.

Isn’t this just another distraction from your failure to protect—

Steve pushed all his concerns and self-deprecation away, focusing on what was currently in his hands, the here and now, choosing to allow himself this one thing. When did he ever take something for himself? He could deal with the guilt and all the ‘what were you thinking?’ later.

Just mark this down as another good deed, you’d be doing her a favor...

A small hand covered his as he reached for a doorknob. Lips separated briefly to utter an explanation. “Other door.”

I can allow myself this, can’t I?

He pushed open the opposite door this time, releasing you as you pushed against his chest, taking a moment to breathe deeply, to assess, to try to look less unhinged, less hungry.

You were already pulling at your clothes. He felt it too, the trapped heat against his skin, the discomfort.

He needed to catch up to you or you would leave him behind, just like with everything else.

He winced as he lifted his shirt off his head.

“Steve?”

***

“It’s—” He dropped the shirt on the floor before you could reach him, and your eyes immediately dropped to the spread of dark purple and blue all along the right side of his ribcage. How was he walking around with an injury like that?

You knew how.

Your hands hovered over the discoloration. He kept his arm out away from his side to give you space, probably assuming correctly that you weren’t going to ignore it at his request.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “I’m fine.”

“This is not fine, look at it.”

“While I appreciate your concern,” he started, fingers finding your jaw and pulling your face up to be closer to his, “they’ll heal.”

“Do you want some ice, or…”

A distraction from what’s about to happen? Because I can easily get rid of twenty minutes or so, making a bandage.

“I’m fine.” It was whispered, but incredibly reassuring. He stayed still for a moment longer, his eyes pouring over your face, taking in every little detail.

“Do you still want to…?”

His hands left your chin, moving over your shoulders and down your arms slowly enough to raise goosebumps before they found your waist, pulling at the edge of the jeans you still had on.

I guess he does.

You reached down for the button, undoing it and pushing them down as quickly as possible. As you stood back up, his arms wrapped around your waist, large hands moving up to cover as much of your back as possible, fingers finding the clasp to your bra. Steve struggled with it, but only for a moment before you felt it was loose. You were crushed against his chest before you could get it off.

His skin was warm, exceedingly so, or maybe that was you projecting a bit. For how large he was in general, he was unexpectedly gentle. Slow and cautious, too.

How many other dalliances has he had? Either enough to know how to control himself, or hardly any at all…

The idea of Steve being nervous amused the hell out of you. Of all the people, Captain America, nervous? No… But the way he clung to you, almost as if physical contact was enough of a distraction to get him to stop overanalyzing, much like you were already doing… He had to be.

As he leaned over you, his weight balanced on his knees on either side of your legs, he reached down and hooked his finger under the center of the bra, pulling it up and away from you. You helped him indirectly, lifting your arms so the straps wouldn’t catch, all the while painfully aware of your heart attempting to beat right out of your chest.

“You look sick to your stomach,” Steve commented, almost teasingly.

“I’m nervous,” you countered, moving to cover yourself. He gently pulled at your wrist, getting you to open up to him. His blue eyes were fixed on yours, right up until they weren’t. You felt your face heat up at the thought of him getting any amount of enjoyment out of your naked chest, but there was also a quick flash of pride, a split second where you accepted that you could appeal to someone like him.

“Don’t be,” he whispered, eyes moving back up to yours.

He leaned in and you foolishly expected another kiss, but instead his lips sought the skin at your neck, moving lower as the fluttering sensation in your stomach grew.

“—are you sure you’re okay with this?” It was a blurted-out last attempt to distract, but it didn’t work. Any other words died in your throat as his soft lips smoothed over your chest, stopping finally to wrap around your nipple. Your hands moved to his hair immediately.

What an answer.

All you could do was hold onto him for dear life with your eyes squeezed shut, biting your lip in the hope you could somehow contain the small noises that were desperately trying to make their way out. You weren’t very successful.

You felt like you were loud, excessively loud in the quiet of your small apartment. It wasn’t as if you had anything to worry about. Maybe because he was so focused, so quiet, you felt like you were somehow overreacting. Either way it didn’t matter because he soon sat up, leaving you there in the middle of the bed so he could get rid of the rest of his clothes.

You tried not to look, but how could you not? He was so muscular and well-proportioned that he even intimidated you. But it only lasted until he broke out in a nervous grin.

***

She still looks nervous, you’re doing something wrong.

As he returned to you, he watched your face, your reactions to him being so close. He took a moment to pull at the side of your underwear and gave you space so you could kick them off. He could see your eyes moving all around, gaze brushing over everything but him.

He moved in closer still, approaching you slowly as if he were trying to calm a frightened deer. Submissive, attentive, calm. He was no threat. Finally your eyes settled on his, and a small smile formed that he could only guess was a product of the shared nervous excitement. He echoed it, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, taking a moment to linger at your cheek until you reached up for his hand, wrapping your much smaller fingers around his palm.

“We missed a step,” you whispered, seconds before you turned over beneath him and moved up higher on the mattress to reach your bedside table. As you were rummaging around, he couldn’t help but look at what was right in front of him.

Save that for later, hmm?

Steve swallowed.

“I, uh, do realize this is probably the most un-sexy thing I could possibly do right now, but…” You turned over, presenting him with the foil square.

“Ah, right.”

Steve took it, looking at it for a few moments before it was pulled from his fingers.

“I’ll just, uh, help.”

Steve’s eyes went wide as you moved lower beneath him. He heard the packaging being torn open but couldn’t see much in the relative darkness. A few seconds later, he felt your hand wrap around him. It was like an electric shock to his system. Shortly after that, he felt your fingers smoothing the condom down over him.

“Um,” he breathed.

“Is that okay?” you asked, slowly returning to somewhere close to eye-level with him. He hoped he didn’t resemble a tomato.

‘Is that okay?’ she asks, as if she knows you can’t breathe.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

No you’re not.

Your eyes were kind, cheeks high as you fought off a smile. Steve felt his breath leave him for a reason other than the intimate closeness the two of you were sharing.

“You’re very beautiful.”

You glanced away bashfully. Steve was reminded of that perfect spark he felt outside in the cold. Like all of it was important. That it was right.

“You don’t need to say things like that.”

“I didn’t want you to have any doubts.”

A few seconds of very direct, very tangible eye contact stretched between the two of you before you frantically reached for him, pulling his face down to yours, pressing your lips urgently to his.

The same fever from before returned and Steve let all his weight rest on you, trapping you against the mattress. He was big enough to wrap himself completely around you, and he did, forming a human shield, something that wasn’t lost on him.

It felt so natural for him to lean down into you as you opened up for him.

You both sighed together.

***

It was a sensory overload. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on any one thing. Just when you thought you’d have a second to relax, he’d move or make an adjustment, curling up around you even further, hitting deeper, moving faster.

There was no way to disguise how you were feeling. Him continuing to moan into your ear gave you all the comfort and confidence you needed to stop worrying so much about what Steve Rogers might think or expect of you. It was clear something was going right.

You were tense, you could feel your body tightening in his grip as you all but stopped breathing, the pleasurable sensations forming a knot low in your belly as he continued to thrust into you. You kept your legs wrapped around his hips, your hands on his shoulders tightening until he raised his head and let out a groan.

Sweat dotted across his forehead and some of his normally-perfectly styled light hair had fallen into his face. Still, he didn’t stop, which meant right as he started to ask you if something was wrong, you let out a series of gasps as you quivered beneath him. He saw it all.

You were acutely aware of him inside you as you continued to spasm, falling back against the mattress once you were finished. You could feel your own sweat on the sheets, a slightly uncomfortable thing to lay in, but you were quickly distracted as he started to pull away.

“Where are you going?”

He paused as you reached for his arm. His chest was still heaving, and you thought you’d never seen such a handsome man in all your life so undone.

You pulled his lower half in with your legs, trying to get him to keep going. He resisted at first, and you weren’t sure why, but with enough prodding he was back in, moving a little faster, chasing after his own pleasure instead of yours.

You thought Steve deserved to be a bit selfish.

With a few more sloppy, angled thrusts, Steve bit back his moan as he buried his face in your shoulder. The two of you stayed like that for at least a few minutes before he felt like moving again.

A quick trip to the bathroom for the both of you and you were back in bed, still completely naked, something that felt strange at first until Steve pulled you into his chest.

“How was that, for you?” you asked, looking up at him.

While with others, you might’ve gotten a joke at your own expense, Steve just leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“It was perfect.”

You agreed wholeheartedly, snuggling further into his chest. He kept the arm pinned under your cheek wrapped around you, hand spreading out across your side, while the other smoothed your hair back out of your face.

You felt whole, like whatever had disappeared that day had left a Steve-shaped hole behind, you just didn’t know it. You doubted it would be the same for him, but you couldn’t deny it to yourself any longer. The courtship had been extremely quick, something your old roommate might’ve harassed you about before, but you couldn’t deny how right it felt.

***

Steve waited patiently in the early hours of the morning, staring up at the ceiling. When would the guilt come? While he was sharing a cup of coffee with you? Sometime in the early afternoon, when he’d inevitably left you? During his daily debrief with Natasha? After, when the conversation usually drifted to more personal matters? Would it hit him while he was lying in his own bed, alone? Or would he have already become so greedy that he’s back again?

Would it ever come at all?

You stirred beside him and he felt your grip on his arm tighten. He was more than content being whatever anchor you needed in your dreams. He knew firsthand how bad they could get.

As he ran his fingers along the side of your face, attempting to soothe you back to sleep, an eye opened.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“...Promise you won’t disappear without saying something?”

His first reaction was to laugh off your concern, Steve Rogers would never, but as it sunk in he realized you didn’t mean it that way at all. He glanced over at the closed door opposite yours, remembering what you said the night before. Quite a few people had literally disappeared without warning. He recognized your honest fear and turned back down to face you.

“I promise.” It was sincere, sealed with a kiss.

“Thank you.”

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

Requested to be tagged:

@patzammit

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #writing #hope this isn't horrible!#goodnight!

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 6 years

Text

National Boss Day [h.s.]

- part II -

here’s part I if you missed it!

word count: 10k yeet

content/warnings: fluff, bit of smut, & angst shishters

“‘Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?’

Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus, and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice).

She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously.

or Y/N learns that garlic bread is deadly, lips taste best after coffee cake, psychosexual analysis is her strong-suit, and comfortable silence is so overrated.

///

Harry’s house was just as Y/N pictured it (not that she fantasized about his house often or anything), down to the baby cactus in the finger-painted ceramic flower pot, snuggled next to a framed picture of a messy-haired Harry in a light blue Hawaiian shirt, smirking at the camera while carrying a baby girl in his tattooed arms.

“My goddaughter,” he explains as he shuts the front door behind her, Nike-socked feet padding across the dark wooden floor to where she is currently standing, smiling fondly at the image as she toes off her worn sneakers and draws her black windbreaker tighter over her Captain America t-shirt.

Harry looks so different outside of the office— so different from the intimidating man he has to portray in order to be taken seriously in his field. He’s clad in a pair of neon blue running shorts and a slightly oversized Greenbay Packers sweatshirt, his hair in messy, fluffy tuffs and just a tad bit damp at the ends, giving away that he’d gotten out of the shower not too long ago. He’s freshly shaven and smells of his signature cologne, mixed with the scent of musky aftershave and refreshing deodorant. He looks soft and cozy and cuddly, much to Y/N’s demise, and she wishes she could allow herself the luxury of running her hands through his curly locks and feel him give into her touch.

Sure, she’s seen him unwind before outside the office, but this closer glimpse at Harry’s life is so rare it feels so intimate to be allowed to see it. To see him completely unguarded, with his ungroomed curls, relaxed posture, and big hands tucked lazily into the front pocket of his jumper; he looks like any other regular twenty-four year old boy would. Nothing like a millionaire business-owner with the weight of the world sitting on his broad shoulders.

“She’s two,” Harry continues, breaking Y/N from her train of thought, “and her name’s Ruby. Sweetest little girl you’ll ever meet. Loves to chew on fingers, though, so if you ever do meet her, you ought to keep those hidden.”

She giggles softly as he smiles fondly at the snapshot, turning slowly to face her and jerking his head sideways in the direction of what she guesses is the kitchen. “Cake won’t eat itself. C’mon.”

Harry gives Y/N a mini tour of his huge pent house in the few seconds it takes them to reach the elegant kitchen. He presents the living room as it is set beside the kitchen, and then points in the direction of where a corridor leads off, explaining that it descends to his room as well as the guest bedrooms. The color scheme of the home is centered towards dark colors, the theme being modern and posh. It can clearly be seen in the decor what with the plush, burgundy-colored sofas that look square and compact and ever so luxurious, arranged over a Persian rug of sorts that she can tell was probably woven by hand, the gold and bronze threads glimmering under the dim ceiling lights.

The architecture of the home displays it as well, with its glass-based design and sleek dark brown and ashy grey accents washed across the walls, not to mention the creamy beige carpet that gives off to polished, red oak floors. At certain points, she even sees what appears to be bamboo built into the ceiling and across a few surfaces, tying the entire place together with an air of exotic beauty that is somehow still easily chic.

The whole space is crisp, clean, and neat, the darkness created by the faint, warm lighting complimenting the deeper tones and shades all around the apartment. Funny enough, Y/N finds that the condo really reflects Harry as person— it’s reserved and quiet and peaceful, yet impecable and seemingly perfect down to the last window pane, with a bit of a haunting aura that just draws you in.

It’s overwhelmingly refreshing, in a sense.

Y/N is taking everything in when her eye catches on a certain piece of decor that she finds rather enticing. It appears to be a lamp of sorts, its lights made out of different sized rings that are stacked upon one another and spaced at intervals, the outer rims of the unusual bulbs painted midnight blue. It hangs from the ceiling, dangling a few inches off the floor at its full height.

“Dope lamp.” She comments, and then mentally facepalms. How could she allow herself to sound so simple-minded and childish while in the presence of such expensive and high-class surroundings? She feels like she should curtesy to the fireplace as an apology. Harry, however, doesn’t seem to mind her wit. He actually loves the way Y/N is, with her modern lingo and her juvenile personality— it’s just like the first breath of spring. He is so used to being around older people and having to act incredibly mature and impeccably faultless that her easy-going, young persona is more than perfect to him. He gives the accessory a glimpse, smiling warmly and the gesture is directed more towards an unaware Y/N than the actual object. “Thanks. My sister designed it. Actually, she designed and furnished my entire apartment. She’s really into all that decor stuff and I can’t be bothered with it, so I just picked my place and let her take care of everything else. The only thing I had a say in was the art on the walls. Personally went and toured different exhibits and met tons of artists to make my collection ‘cause I feel it’s the one thing I can do no wrong with.” He gives a signifying glance at all the paintings that trail across the walls of his home, his lips quirking with the ghost of a proud smile and she thinks he looks pretty when his eyes twinkle like that. “Art is the one factor of decorating that clicks for me— it’s simple yet it has such an impact on the atmosphere. Every piece is unique, and they all come together to tell the story of the person who owns them. Y’know what I mean?” Y/N nods her head numbly, shocked into an awed silence by the depth and analysis of Harry’s comment. She barely knows anything about art, unless picking out paintings in the IKEA clearance section counts. And to hear him talk with such an open heart and honest mind about himself and his interests is admirably engrossing because, yes, he lets loose when they’re out of the office and around friends, but very solemnly had she seen him like this. She never knew that there was this much more there, under the guy who put chopsticks beneath his upper lip to look like a walrus and California Rolls up to his eyes to mimic the Sushi Serpent (otherwise known as a mythical creature he claims lives in the Himalayas with Big Foot and feeds only on white sticky rice). She never knew just how old of a soul he could be— in a good way, obviously. Y/N continues to trail behind him, their footsteps going from muffled thumps on the carpet to soft padding against the hard wood floor as they enter the kitchen area. She is just now noticing how long the wall of the living room is, fascinated by how it is made entirely out of glass, looking out across the city skyline where the lights of the busy streets and skyscrapers twinkle invitingly. “I’ve always loved the city.” Harry pipes up when he catches her staring, sighing wistfully as he walks around the marble kitchen island, lifting the glass dome off of the cake-serving dish, the tangy smell of coffee and buttercream frosting tinting the air. “Living close to London does that to you.” “Yeah, I bet,” Y/N mumbles quietly, gifting him a small smile as he spins the cake dish around dramatically, sweeping a hand grandly before the dessert to emphasize its greatness. “Are you ready to taste a coffee cake that could put Gordon Ramsey to shame?” He’s acquired a cake-cutter and is already serving her a slice onto a plate that aesthetically contrasts the marble counter’s pattern, sliding it across the expanse of the table and pointing out a cabinet behind her. “Silverware is right in there.”

Soon enough, they are both sitting on top of the cold tabletop, Y/N on the island and Harry across from her on the counter besides the stove, swaying his legs ever-so-slightly as he licks at the frosting on his fork. “...and so then I told Niall that there was no way he could possibly fit all eight garlic bread rolls in his mouth without, y’know, breaking his jaw, and since he’s a knobhead, he proceeded to try and prove me wrong.” Harry is telling a story about a party at a restaurant that he and Niall had attended for one of the company’s older board members, who had been turning 81, and both of them had been bored out of their minds during the whole thing. They’d entertained themselves during the toast by hiding behind everyone else and daring each other to shove as many garlic rolls in their mouths as they could. Niall had won a gruesomely disgusting victory full of lots of drool and gagging, but he got bragging rights and Harry agreed to pay for his dinner so all went well in the end. He has Y/N a laughing mess, telling about how he almost threw up in the process when it had been his turn to cram the bread in his mouth, saying that since that day, every time he smelled something “remotely garlicky,” his stomach would lurch in a ghost warning. “Yeah, it was horrible. I can’t even smell Alfredo anymore or I risk presenting some of my very own homemade pasta sauce.” Harry loves the way Y/N’s eyes crinkle when she laughs too hard and how she clutches her stomach lightly as if she were about to burst open, her bubbly giggles being extremely contagious. He comes to the conclusion that he could sit here forever and watch her smile, his gaze softening with fondness as she wipes tears from the inner corners of her eyes while scrunching her nose and pinching her nostrils.

“When I laugh too hard, I tend to start sneezing.” She explains, sniffling lightly and sighing with content. “It’s an issue.” Harry scoffs softly in amusement, setting his palms against the dark-stoned counter and hopping off with ease. He sets his plate in the sink, coming back over to Y/N to pick her’s up as well. “What is it?” She inquires with a playful tone as she notices he still has that entertained smirk across his dimpled cheeks. He shakes his head lightly, pursing his lips to try and rid of the endeared grin but he just can’t. He can never seem to shake anything when it comes to her. “S’nothing.” “Oh, hop off it!” Y/N huffs, reaching over and slowly shoving him with a loose fist. “C’mon, spill.” “It’s just...” He’s fiddling with the fork on her empty plate, turning and shifting it around, the light clinking of the metal against the porcelain filling the pause in his thought. “You’re just cute, s’all.” Y/N blinks once in surprise. This is the first time he’s made any sort of comment like this since the incident. “Oh...” Her voice is tight with a slight squeak at the end. “Uh, t-thanks...” Harry glances up at her from the frosted surface of the platter in his huge hands, jade irises glimmering below his thick lashes with a timid yet confident air. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Her toes instinctively curl inside her kitty-printed socks at the pet name, the way he says it making a dull throb swell at the pit of her tummy. His voice was low and almost predatory as he let the word slip past his lips, licking the corner of his mouth slyly as he turned slowly to head back towards the dishwasher. When their locked eyes finally break is when Y/N can breathe again. It’s like he had a warm fist wrapped securely around her throat, forcing the air to stay in her lungs and fill her entire body with an anxious jittering. He’s so magnetic and enthralling, it’s almost like he’s not human. Harry’s voice rips her from her mind. She snaps her wild gaze up at him as he chances a glance behind his shoulder, scrubbing the buttercream from a plate with a rainbow sponge. “Be careful coming off the counter, love. It’s higher up than y’think and socks are slippery.” Y/N’s eyes roll at him jokingly as he sets the dishes in a drying rack, toweling his hands with a Plates Against Humanity dish cloth. “I think I can handle myself.” It turns out that she actually can’t handle herself. The island top was indeed higher than she had anticipated. Y/N jumps off, palms pressed against the surface as reinforcement, her body falling between her elbows and she thought her feet would hit the floor by the time her hips leveled with the counter. But she was wrong and her body keeps falling— falling to the point where her armpits are what is level with the surface so that her arms bend out of proportion, causing a small yawp of shock to string her vocal chords as pain erupts along the tendons of her shoulders, feet eventually hitting the ground but sliding out from under her due to the tiled floor not being compatible with the socks she is wearing. Harry lunges forward, strong arms wrapping around Y/N’s waist and higher torso as her flimsy arms give out beneath her weight. If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve hit her head against the edge of the tabletop. He hikes Y/N up and props her against the island, where she leans backwards, catching her breath from the scare. Her legs feel like Jello, knees quaking as unharnessed adrenalin pumps heavy through her veins. Y/N’s chest heaves with shaky inhales, the feeling of her feet slipping out from under her haunting her conscious. One of her hands presses over her chest, heart threatening to break through her ribcage. Harry keeps his lean arms snaked around Y/N’s hips, he himself slightly winded do to the sudden call for action. He shoves his fringe off his forehead, giving her a smug side-grin and a jolt of his thick brows. “What was that you said about being able to handle yourself?” She releases a quivering, borderline hysterical laugh, still somewhat unhinged. “I miscalculated.” “It appears so,” he himself lets out a heap of chuckles as she tries to regain her footing, only to have her feet slip yet again. Y/N jerks her head up to meet his eyes as they glow with triumphant coyness, forming a witty remark in the back of her brain in the process. However, her comment is extinguished when her nose suddenly bumps with his as she lifts her gaze and she hadn’t realized how close Harry was until now. He is cradling her waist as her arms are slung loosely over his broad shoulders, palms flat against the muscles of his back as they flex under the soft cotton of his jumper, tight with the effort of holding her up. One of Y/N’s legs had perched between both of his when her feet had scrambled in the heat of the fall, knee being locked between both of his thick thighs and they feel so warm and soft under the sheer material of his mesh running shorts. Y/N had failed to notice how intimate this moment had grown in such a short amount of time. Harry’s canopy-green irises glitter at her with a certain familiar intensity from a while back. His tongue peeks out to absentmindedly lick across his suddenly dry lips and she can hear his breathing hitching in the back of his throat. His face drifts closer, the tip of his cold nose rubbing over her’s as his head cocks to the side a bit, eyes flickering back and forth between her owlish own and her mouth. His warm exhales wash across the young woman’s pulsing lips as he slowly pushes her further back against the counter, the lower half of her back bending slightly over the cold border. “H-Harry—” Y/N’s voice comes out high and weak, cut off by his as it fills with needy vehemence. “I’m gonna kiss you.” His words are a deep rumble in his strong chest, barely a murmur but a powerful one nonetheless. His brows furrow heavily and his Adam’s Apple bobs with a thick gulp, cherry-stained lips parting slightly in wariness. “I don’t think that’s a good—” She is forced to swallow her thought as Harry’s warm mouth collides with her’s, hot lips encompassing her quivering own as he grips her hips a tad more roughly, pushing forward as she yelps in surprise. His nose is smudging over Y/N’s as he deepens the kiss, tongue hesitantly wandering into his friend’s mouth and licking across her top lip. His hands scramble up to cup her face, warm palms cradling her jaw and holding her in place as he drags his textured tongue over her’s and glues a needy whimper to the roof of her mouth. The kiss is incredible— it’s everything Y/N had dreamed of and more. He’s dominant but in his own sheepish way— not too rough but not too soft— taking her into his embrace and she melts at the way his body wraps itself around her’s, eyes lulling to the back of her head. One thigh presses between Y/N’s legs as the other straddles one of her hips, his strong hands keeping her placed as he invades her mouth with a want so deep and carnal, she just about dissolves into a puddle right there in his strong arms. Harry gnaws at her bottom lip, gasping lightly when nails dig into the backs of his hard shoulders, whining into her mouth. “God, Y/N, been wanting this for too fucking long.” Y/N isn’t kissing back, but she’s not stopping it either. She just wants to bask in the way his thumbs are caressing the underside of her jaw as he suckles her tongue and chews on the center of her lower lip. His warm body is caving against her’s, bracketing her in and refusing to let go because, fuck, he needs this. Needs her. “You taste so bloody sweet, darling. S’like champagne and cream and...” Harry can’t help but fully grin into the kiss. “And coffee cake.” A small laugh pipes from Y/N’s trembling frame as a timid yet cheeky, “Wonder why.” puffs from under her breath. He’s pulling back a bit, replacing the long, drawn-out kiss with a scatter of gentle, cushiony pecks instead as he tries to get himself together. Harry’s plan backfires somewhat, however, because before he knows it he is back to desperately sifting his lips between her’s like they are his last source of oxygen and at this point, he doesn’t consider them anything less than life-saving. “Shit, I bet y’taste even better between your thighs...” The blunt words had escaped his mouth, managing to slide by the filter in his brain due to all of his thoughts muddling together into one messy image that takes up every function of his being— the image of him snuggled between Y/N’s thighs as they roll around in the rumpled, damp lavender sheets of his king-sized bed, her nails biting memories into the flexing muscles along his back as he stains her tongue with his needy gasps and moans, his skin glistening with sweat and littered with love bites. A sudden warmth pools Y/N’s cheeks and something tells him she’s thinking the exact same thing. Maybe it’s the way her grip instinctively tightens on him, her fingers winding harder into the fabric of his sweatshirt, or how her swollen mouth falls open just a tad more to allow him as much access as he wants, but he’s just certain the same scene is rolling through the film behind her eyes. Harry’s starting to buck against the thigh she has between his, raw desire slowly gaining complete control of the reigns. His brows frown deeper as the buzzing in his bones rattles harder. When he speaks, his voice is soft and it sounds vulnerable as it thrums against her mouth. “Kiss me back. Please, pet, kiss me back. Need to know you want me, too.” Every nerve in Y/N is telling her not to. Every single fiber is telling her to high-tail it out of this situation before it goes into territory that they won’t be able to come back from. She has watched enough romantic comedies and chick-flicks to know that the whole boss-employee cliche never goes well. It’s ridiculous, really, that she’s let herself get this far when she’s always the one telling the TV off about how stupid the girl is being and how stupid the plot of the entire film is and how stupid the ending is because everyone knows there’s rarely such a thing as happily ever after when it comes to mixing career with pleasure and it’s all just so fucking stupid. But the thing the Y/N thinks is utterly moronic is that she finds herself, for once, starting to empathize with the female lead in those films. Now that she’s here, in Harry’s arms again — much less drunk on tequila and much more drunk on each other— she finally sees the world from the protagonist’s point of view. She sees the devastatingly handsome, sweet, and incredibly funny boss hovering a few inches from her face as his chest heaves with nervous, rattling breaths, full eyebrows pinched in anxious hope as he awaits her answer. It’s almost like she can hear an audience in the back of her head cheering her on as they watch the intense moment unfold before them in the movie theatre, screaming at her to just let go and do it already because it’s been a long time coming and the chance has never been more right. And before Y/N can rethink her actions, she’s giving not only that dumb imaginary audience exactly what they want, but she’s finally giving herself what she wants because she’s tired of having to be sensible and obedient and righteous all the time. So what if she fucks up this once? She’s spent most of her time at the company doing enough damage control to cushion it over. This one’s for her. Harry watches intensely with fluttering eyelashes and a battering heart as Y/N coasts her shaky hands across his broad shoulders and up his blushing neck to cup his set jaw, moving a single rebellious curl back from his forehead, her thumbs slowly curving around shells of his ears in thoughtful circles that have his knees knocking. He watches with enormous relief as Y/N hesitantly edges her face closer to his, eyes glued to his mouth with a form of uncertain determination as she prepares to take a leap that he well knows will take both of them down. Yet, he doesn’t stop it because she’s worth it— any rumors or dirty looks or gossip that might arise, she’s worth all of it because she’s so unique and special to him that he just can’t let this go. When Y/N finally touches her mouth to his, it feels like everything that has lead to this moment has been perfect and like the stars have aligned just so that both of them could be here tonight to finish the constellation. It’s sappy and disgustingly poetic on his part to think of a hormonal make-out session as some sign from the universe, but he doesn’t give two shits because that’s how it feels to him and he doesn’t remember a time where he’s ever felt more alive. Harry’s only in his early twenties but his family business has caused him to have to grow up earlier than others of his time. Do to these circumstances, he thinks he should be allowed this— should be allowed this messy encounter with a girl he’s been crushing on like a twelve-year-old for months now. She’s lively and lovely and kind and could give any famous comedian a run for their money and he is almost a hundred percent sure that his stomach has never felt this hollow and twisted before when he’s been kissed. He deserves this. This is for him. Both of their thoughts are racing a hundred miles a minute, overcome by the wave of sensations that neither have experienced from each other, let alone were ready for. Harry feels frozen in time, his fingers twitching against her jaw as she slots her mouth deeper with his, acting out of sheer adrenaline. Y/N suddenly releases a small, watery whine from the back of her throat, and this acts as some form of reality check to Harry because the sound is so intoxicating and syrupy that it jolts him into action. His hands quickly fumble for her hips, grabbing at her cushiony waist and backing her up even further against the counter. Y/N’s body reacts to his implications all by itself, pushing up off the ground as Harry’s arms flex with her weight, dropping her lightly onto then cold marble counter. Her thighs part widely to bring him closer, arms locked around his neck as Harry tilts his head slightly to the side, his nose brushing against her cheek as he delves further into her mouth. His breathing is spastic and wild as it puffs from his nose, tickling her skin and sending a jitter down her spine. “Fuck’s sake...” Harry mumbles all raspy against her plush mouth, licking shyly at her top lip and revering in the way her thighs squeeze tighter around his hips. “S-Sorry if I’m a little rusty...s’been a while, actually, and— God, can you do that again?” Y/N has moved her hungry lips to the underside of his strong jaw, suckling down the structured skin and using the cute little moles scattered across Harry’s neck as guides. She pays close attention to each one, per his request, and her technique seems to prove valid because his fingers dig into her thighs, his head slowly lulling back to give her any space she needs to keep going. He’s biting down on the flesh just below his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth curved up into a dreamy, pleasureful grin as his eyes droop shut in bliss. His cheeks tint a darker shade of mauve, chest thrumming with satisfaction. “It’s okay. It’s actually been minute for me, too...” Harry chokes out a drunken boyish giggle that has hints of disbelief. “I highly doubt that’s tru— bloody hell— stop, stop!” Y/N moves her mouth away from the little dip at the center of his taunt throat, feeling confused and a bit embarrassed. “Was it hurting? I’m so sorry—” “No, no, it’s not you. These are...” Harry whispers between deep gulps of air, reaching up to smooth his index finger thoughtfully across Y/N’s swollen bottom lip. He swallows heavily as she stares up at him with wide, curious eyes that have his balls aching. “These are fuckin’ magical.” When she speaks, her voice is meek and nervous and she has the cutest little pout present. “Then why’d we stop?” “Well, it’s just that since it’s been some time since my last play-date, I’m kinda sensitiveee— Oh, fuck, that’s deep.” Harry’s interrupted by Y/N gradually taking the finger that was prodding her lips into her mouth, tongue swirling around the digit and sucking feverishly, preening at the way his jaw goes slack and his eyebrows scrunch with sexual angst. She grabs a hold of his palm, uncoiling a second finger and tucking it inside as well, coating them thoroughly before pulling away slowly. She holds grueling eye contact the entire time, holding his large hand with both of her’s and separating the two digits with her tongue, running it down the center of both before planting sloppy wet kisses up and down their length. Harry feels like his whole body has been set alight, his thighs clenching and toes curling in his socks as he watches the utterly erotic scene unfold. How was he to know that sweet, gentle, comedic Y/N was so shamelessly dirty? He doesn’t hesitate to voice it, either, with his tone full of pained lust and wondrous awe. “Christ, you’re such a horny little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N nearly chokes around his fingers at his comment. It sounds so much hotter in real life than in her imagination. He smirks lightly. “Just asking for it— practically begging, with that pretty mouth and those big eyes.” Y/N turns Harry’s hand upwards, sponging messy suckling kisses across his tingling palm. “Like I said, it’s been a while for me, too.” “Can see that clearly, now.” He murmurs under his breath, watching with bated inhales as lightning courses from her lips through the nerves in his skin. “Why’d you wanna stop?” She reiterates, failing to keep the hurt from her voice. When Harry interprets her mood, he immediately feels like shit. “Oh, darling,” he coos softly, leaning forward and nudging her nose with his. “It wasn’t you, it’s just that...I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself— let alone regain my masculinity— if I had an incident from simply just making out.” Y/N blinks at him exactly three times. “You were gonna cum from kissing?” Harry’s shoulders slump as a scowl toys with his cheeks. “Rub it in, why don’t you?” The snorty giggle she releases somewhat makes up for the dig at his ego. “I’m sorry, that’s just...Well, it’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever gotten, if I’m being honest.” “Nice damage control.” He huffs sarcastically with a light roll of his eyes. “I’m serious! I’m really flattered, Har.” His ears perk at the nickname and now he wants to hear her scream it more than ever. “I love the way that sounds coming from your mouth.” “Yeah?” She smiles softly. “Yeah...” He nods, side-grin buckling his face. “Wanna hear it again...and again...and again...Preferably while I have you shaking under me...headboard ramming against the wall...” Harry’s hand has coasted up her inner thigh, massaging it deeply as his lips bristle down from her eyelids to her cheek and across the underside of her jaw. “Can I touch you?” Y/N releases a stuttered, semi-laughing gasp. “Would be a crime if you didn’t.” Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, running them along the rim towards the button as he liters sparse pecks along her throat, his voice coming out low and sultry. “Wanted this since the moment you walked into my office.” Y/N swallows thickly, feeling the metal bit of her pants pop open and he pauses for a second to roll up a single sleeve of his grey jumper to get any possible obstacles out of the way. It’s something so trivial, yet it only makes the dampness between her thighs grow. “Wanted to just spread you over my glass table, hike up the pretty pencil skirt, and sink my face between your legs until all I could taste and smell was you.” His fingers ghost over her abdomen, crawling past the restraints of the denim and tracing over the cotton material of her panties. “Watch your chest heave as I marked my teeth across your inner thighs, my rings staining the rest.” Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head as Harry confesses all he has ever wanted to do to her, his lips searing passion into her neck with every bite. His fingers are now cupping her over her underwear, two middle ones pressed up against the thick of her swollen clit and there is not doubt in her mind that she is soaked well through. “You’re already dripping and I’ve barely done a thing. S’cute how horny you are, really. Never imagined you to be so messy.” The whimper that strings Y/N’s vocal chords comes from deep in the pit of her stomach, pushed forward by utter need and the wish to fulfill a long-desired fantasy. His fingers start moving in long, teasing circles. “Harry...” “Bet you’re tight, too, aren’t you? Haven’t been fucked right in so long, you need someone to stretch you out nice and proper, yeah?” All Y/N can do is nod her head, hips bucking forward against his fingers, her head tilting down so that their foreheads flush against one another. The pine of Harry’s glossy irises stares up at her through his thick lashes, full of sly smugness at being able to dismantle her so easily. He kisses lightly at her quivering mouth, digits speeding up under her clothes. “‘M gonna fuck you all night long, angel. Make up for all that lost time.” Y/N feels a third finger hook around the crotch area of her panties, moving the fabric to the side to allow full on skin-to-skin contact. Harry can’t help the way his mouth drops open as his digits sink down between her folds, the warmth and wetness enveloping him as he teases one inside her. “Christ, you’re so dirty, pet.” “Harry, please...” Y/N tries to go in for a full kiss, but he pulls back, shaking his head mockingly and she’s so slick he manages to coax in a second finger. “Want you to look at me while I finger-fuck you.” His words leave her cheeks itching and her teeth numb, whimpering as he stretches her out. “I’m gonna do so many things to this perfect cunt. Gonna fit myself between your thighs and fuck you on your back so I can see how cute you look cumming. Then I’m gonna flip you around and take you from behind so I can mark my hands across your ass.” Harry’s picking up the pace against her heat, and his arm and wrist are starting to become sore but he knows it’ll be worth it if Y/N keeps squeaking and writhing the way she is. His eyes twinkle dangerously with another idea. “You ever been fucked out on a balcony, petal?” Y/N doesn’t trust herself to speak, settling for shaking her head drunkenly and letting out a muffled mm-mm. “We’ll change that, then.” She can’t stop herself from making a coy remark, more to herself but his ears manage to catch it. “Not surprised you’ve got an exhibition kink.” Harry’s eyebrows quirk up in amused surprise, his motions halting for a second. “S’cuse me?” Y/N licks across her chapped bottom lip, swallowing to regain some moisture back in her throat. “It goes hand-in-hand with a praise kink, which you obviously have, as well.” Harry pulls his hand out completely from under her jeans now, despite her small whine of disapproval, much more interested in the psychological analysis she has conceived of him. “Some interesting assumptions. Please,” he brings his fingers up to his face, examining the glossiness across his skin before shoving them into his mouth, “do go on.” Y/N yelps quietly at the sight of him tasting her and her reaction reminds him of a startled puppy, for some reason. It’s absolutely endearing. “No, please,” Harry removes his soaked fingers from his mouth with a wet pop, licking over the middle one more time calmly just to push her right up to the edge. “Continue.” And Y/N does, with a shaky tone and buzzing tummy. “When you give speeches and stuff at work and rallies, or when you talk at career fairs, you always love to hear the people applaud you at the end. You encourage it, actually. It doesn’t take much to guess that it translates into bed, as well.” “And you’d be right.” Harry smirks, tongue sweeping over his top teeth slowly to end up pressed against the inside of his right cheek cockily. “But here’s the difference. At work, I strive for it. In bed, it comes naturally. I never have to ask someone if they like it because by the end, they can’t stop screaming about it.” “I’ll make sure to add that to my psychosexual research journal.” Y/N forces out the words with a tight smile as he gives her a gradual, predatory-like once-over, licking his flushed lips distractedly. Harry belts out another boyish, heart-fluttering giggle. “Go right ahead. Can’t wait to see your segment on the Discovery Channel.” And then he’s back to tonguing beneath her upper lip, the palm of the bare arm cupping her jaw as the other hand presses flat against the cold marble of the kitchen island beside her thigh. His mouth tastes of the buttery coffee cake and he smells like cinnamon and his lips are like silk as they glide wetly over her skin and Y/N can confirm that heaven really is a place on earth. Her being who she is, she’s already calculating everything down to the minute. If she stays over tonight and he makes good on his promise to work her down to a pool of lube and tears, then they will probably end up sleeping in tomorrow morning, plus it will take her a while to get used to the soreness. Consequently, this means she’ll miss the latest rerun of The Vampire Diaries (she’s rewatching the whole show for a hindsight analysis and she hates to admit it but Elena can be so fucking annoying sometimes). She will also have to push back the brunch with her mom into an actual lunch, and her car was due for an emissions check but she guesses she could miss the appointment and reschedule since her mechanic was a family friend. Grocery shopping would run late, which means that grouchy old cat lady with the purple highlights she always runs into would beat her to getting the freshest blueberries available since the market restocks late Saturday afternoons. She’ll just have to survive without blueberries for another week. All of this is whirring through Y/N’s head as Harry trails his hypnotizing mouth to the thumping pulse in her neck, mumbling something about how sweet her skin tastes. Her eyes flutter, high on his touch and nearly imploding as he presses between her thighs, hissing against her throat as his crotch braces her’s. “So warm f’me...” Y/N thinks that she’s mentally gone through every errand she has tomorrow and decides she is willing to fuck up her schedule if it means getting fucked herself, preferably more than once and possibly in many different compromising positions. Acting on impulse, she begins to undo the tie on Harry’s his mesh shorts and she can feel his hot mouth spread into a wide simper against her juglar. But then, as her responsibilities are locking themselves away for the night in a little door in the back of her mind, something else emerges from her subconscious— something she had totally let slip. It was triggered by her thinking about her schedule, specifically because Saturday mornings, as she watches her show and crams down a bowl of Lucky Charms, is when she organizes Niall’s own schedule for the upcoming week. Thinking about Niall’s schedule is a direct correlation to work, and now that tiny annoying thought is inflating into a full on freak-out as all the alarms in Y/N’s head— which had been muted by Harry’s homey scent and the feeling of his clothed back muscles flexing beneath her fingertips— are blaring loud and proud in her ears. There’s no way she can go through with this. “H-Harry...” The word comes out choked. “Fucking hell, say it again. Say my name again like that, all breathy and soft. Please, angel.” He purrs, hips bucking forward lightly as her fingertips remain perched on the waistband of his shorts. As much as it pains Y/N, she musters up all of the will power left within her (which isn’t very much) and puts it into her voice, her tone vehement. “Harry, we have to stop.” In all of his life, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything as heartbreaking as those five words. Heartbreaking because he knows exactly what is going to come after them. Y/N is going to say that they can’t do this because of work. Because he’s her boss. Because it’s wrong and completely unprofessional. And she would be right— Harry knows this. But his business has taken up so much of him as it is— his youth, his peace of mind, his ability to let go for a bit and do something out of his nature— so he outright refuses to let it stomp all over his love life, as well. It’s the one thing he has left, and much to the comedic irony of the universe, Y/N happens to be at the center of it all. People can’t control who they fall for, but if he had seen it coming, he would have done everything in his power to try and stop it. But he didn’t see it coming. Y/N just crashed right into his life, quite literally, with her gentle smile and her witty personality and her hilarious Vine references and Harry was done in long before he even realized it. They are so close. He is so close. Y/N is in his house, his bedroom is right there. He doesn’t just want to sleep with her, he wants everything that comes with it. He wants to wake up with her in his arms, still fast asleep with her hair in tangles and her lashes resting perfectly atop her soft cheeks. He wants to make her French toast every morning and see her walk out of his room, dressed for work in her favorite pair of black dress pants and a frilly creme blouse, heels clicking against the kitchen floor. He wants her to scold him for still being in his Spider-Man pajama pants rather than ready for the office and to shove him towards the bathroom as she says she’ll finish up breakfast. Harry wants Y/N to have to use his shampoo when her’s runs out, resulting in a playful fight about how her forgetfulness causes him to always have to buy three bottles instead of one, lest he end up having to use the body wash to get the job done. Harry wants her in his hole-ridden band t-shirts, in his lap as they watch Cupcake Wars, and pressed against his back as she attempts to braid his curls but fails because of her limited hair skills. He wants to drive her to work every morning and stop by the small café down the block. Wants to order their coffees, preparing her’s with extra whipped cream, a dash of nutmeg, and exactly 3 tablespoons of honey, all just to mock her sweet tooth as they stop at a traffic light, squeezing her hand over the center console and rolling his eyes while she sticks her tongue out at him. Harry wants all the strings attached that come with being so gone for someone that the very idea of seeing them makes everything negative dissipate. It’s because of this— because of how whipped she has him— that he forces himself to back off, pulling his mouth away from her and trying to hold back the scream of sad frustration that is itching at the roof of his mouth, threatening to squeeze between the cracks of his teeth. Even though he well knows the answer, he still asks. He needs to hear it so that he can fully draw away and detach his hand from her supple cheek and his emotions from her’s. “Why?” It’s just one syllable, but Y/N can feel that it is packed heavy with all of his longing anger. “Because of work.” And there it is, word for word verbatim. The thing is, Harry did see that coming, but it hurt the same either way. “Right.” He whispers, sighing heavily to hide the wobble in his voice. He takes a few steps back from Y/N, his hands coming up before him with his palms forward to signify surrender. Y/N wishes she didn’t miss the warmth of his touch as much as she does. When she speaks, it is nasally and sorrow, her fingers fiddling glumly in her lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head a tad, releasing a quick laugh to try and lighten up the mood but it comes out humorless and somewhat bitter. “No, it’s okay. You have a point. It’s not appropriate.” Y/N can’t stand to see him so upset. It’s obvious he is trying to hide it. His face is cast down, gaze focused on the ground with a deep grimace tilting the corners of his lips in the wrong direction and carving his dimples into his cheeks for the opposite purpose of what they’re made for. His eyelashes keep fluttering, meaning he is trying to blink something out of his eyes. The possibility of it being tears makes it feel as if someone were trying to wrench Y/N’s heart from her chest. “I don’t...” Her words strain the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what else to say...” She just wishes he’d look at her. “I don’t either.” He sounds icy and distant. Y/N slips down awkwardly from her seat on the kitchen island and this time she makes sure not to lose her footing. Despite his cold appearance, Harry still glances up for a moment to make sure she makes it down safely, though it goes unnoticed. Their eyes catch and Y/N feels her stomach plummet down six stories. His facial expression is something she can’t make sense of. His eyes are devastatingly bleak, emerald irises holding none of his usual sly humor and kind happiness. Instead, they are a muted olive tone, glossy but not in the way she wishes they were. The frown is gone, replaced by him pursing his full lips as if calculating whether to throw her out. His arms have come up to fold across his strong chest, fists tight and tucked into the creases of the inside of his elbows. His stance is very rigid and guarded, as if he is trying to cut away any connection between the two of them. Y/N feels like she is drowning. One of her hands reaches across her body, fingers wrapping around her upper arm and squeezing nervously— an anxious mannerism. She draws into herself to feel safer, not because she feels like he’d lash out at her, but because she feels alone. “Harry, I’m really—” Harry cuts her off, his own voice monotone and stern. “I think you should go.” She allows her parted lips to come together tightly, and despite every cell in her body telling her to take the exit, her feet stay planted. She can’t leave things this shattered between them. Last time, he was drunk. Everything was forgotten and there was no mess to clean up. This time, they weren’t so lucky. “Can we just talk it out? I don’t want to leave with things so bad between us. You’re my friend and I—“ “I’m your boss.” The sentence is sharp and cuts as it intended. Harry had let it out in an overwhelming wave of sudden rage, hurt more than he’d ever care to admit. Y/N stares at him with watering eyes, blinking back her emotions. “You’re right. I’m sorry for insisting. I’ll, uhm—” her voice cracks despite her best efforts to stifle her feelings, and a hand flies up to cover her mouth to keep a sob from spilling out. “I’ll just go.” This time, Y/N’s feet don’t fight her. Her windbreaker whips behind her as she hurriedly paces out of the kitchen and through the living room, making sure her eyesight doesn’t wander towards the lamp she had praised earlier. She pauses by the table where her shoes are tucked, feeling her chest contract at the picture of Harry and his goddaughter. Y/N cannot believe she had fucked up this bad. Getting the door unlocked feels like an eternity and she angrily wonders why someone would need three separate locks on a door when the building has a security guard checking the floors every hour. It slams closed behind her, and though she didn’t mean to be so rough, it helps the gnawing in her lungs somewhat subside. Her legs take her down the dimly-lit corridor of Harry’s floor, her shadow tailing her on both walls, footsteps muffled by the thick, expensive maroon carpeting. The metal doors of elevator glint cruelly at end of the hall. Y/N jabs her thumb into the down button so hard that a flash of pain shoots up her entire hand, but she ignores it. It’s nothing compared to what is boiling at the pit of her stomach. She can hear the soft skidding of the elevator descending to her floor, the gentle thump of its arrival, and she’s squeezing in before the doors are even fully open. Nothing seems to be fast enough as she hits the lobby button and keeps clicking the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive. The elevator lurches down ever so slightly, smooth and soundless and what else can be expected from such an expensive condominium. Y/N watches the buttons of the floors light up as she makes her way down, everything that has happened playing in fast-forward over and over behind her glassy eyes. The picture frame. The cozy clothing. The lamp. The art. The smiles. The cake. The jokes. The flirting. The fall. The giggling. The kiss. The touching. Her stopping him. Harry drawing away. Her dismounting the island again. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. Y/N apologizing. Harry drawing into himself. Telling her to— Y/N blinks once, and it’s as if she is taking a remote and back-tracking, trying to find a bit in the storyline that she had missed before. Harry checking to make sure she got down safely. And suddenly, she’s flashed back to a conversation they’d had a long while back when she had offered to help him organize his desk while everyone was out for a lunch break.

“Who knew that the refined, put-together Mr. Styles could be such a fucking slob.” “Heyyyyy!” Harry had chucked an used up pen at her, scrunching his nose into a silly face. “Shut up.” “You shut up and learn to clean your shit.” Y/N had grumbled, picking up a half-finished, dirty stack of rose-printed Sticky Notes and throwing it into the discard pile. “My shit is what makes me unique. There’s not another messy desk like this one anywhere in the world, I can guarantee that.” He replies, holding up a protein bar wrapper and kissing it proudly. She rolls her eyes at him, shaking her head and laughing as he sets it down with the other trash and pets it affectionately. “You’re so lame.” “Whatever.” After some more digging and an embarrassing amount of protein bar wrappers later, Y/N comes upon a crumble piece of paper that is worn with coffee cup stains. She unwraps it, wanting to see if it is of any importance, and comes upon an interesting discovery. “Are these...lines of a poem?” Harry’s head whips up from digging in the bottom cabinet. “Huh?” Y/N sets the notebook paper down on the glass desk and straightens it out with her palms. She then holds it up for him to see, reciting the phrases on the crumbles surface: We haven't spoke since you went away Comfortable silence is so overrated Why won't you ever say what you want to say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way. “Oh...” Harry mumbles wistfully, his cheeks tinging the faintest shade of rose. “That.” “‘That?’” Y/N raises her eyebrows teasingly. “What is ‘that,’ exactly?” He sighs lightly, chucking an empty styrofoam cup in the throw-away pile. “Well...” Harry hesitates. He’s never really talked to anyone about this. But for some reason, Y/N seems like the right person to. He highly doubts she’ll judge him— she’s too nice— and if she read the lines and is interested in them, it must be because she likes them. That, and by the stubborn expression on her face at the moment, he knows she won’t let it go. “They’re poem lines, yeah.” Harry finally answers, nodding his head a bit and pushing up of the ground by his knees. He scratches at the back of his neck nervously. “I, uhm...I used to write when I was younger.” “Really?” The way her eyes light up soothes some of his anxiousness. “Mm-hm. I was quite fond of it, actually. Had a notebook full of lines like these and everything. But after my dad started training me to take on the company, it kind of got lost in the wind.” Harry is in front of Y/N now and she allows him to take the crinkly sheet from her gentle grasp. He loves how she had been holding the paper as if it were a piece of art— it makes his heart flutter that she regarded it as so. Makes his heart flutter enough to keep opening up. “Every now and then something will pop into my head and I’ll write it down wherever I can. I usually just throw them into the bin ‘cause I know they’ll never really amount to much, but I guess this one escaped that fate.” Harry thumbs over the dry, smudged ink, melancholy washing over his eyes as he recalls where these words had stemmed from. He had been going through a bad break-up that had derived from lack of communication, more on his part than on his partner’s. The lines appeared to be directed to someone else, but they were actually about himself. As if one cue, Y/N pipes up with a meek voice covered in curious wonder. “What do they mean?” Harry would normally never share something so emotionally intimate with anyone, but the innocent awe complimenting Y/N’s features at the moment washes his heart in a form of safe familiarity and he feels like he would tell her his deepest, darkest secrets if she asked. He finds that the explanation comes out surprisingly easy and he chalks it up to the saying that “time heals” and what not. “It’s more-so a message to myself than to someone else. I’m a very emotionally closed-off person and I never know how to properly communicate what I’m feeling. Whenever I feel angry or hurt or threatened when it comes emotions, I always shut off and become kinda cold and detached. It’s basically self-sabotage and, like...I know it is, but it’s always been my default so it’s what I always tend to do. No matter how much I want to work things out and fix whatever’s broken, I just don’t really know how to go about it. I always just settle for silence and never end up saying what I want to say.” The office room has grown so silent, Harry could drop that worn-out pen from earlier and it would echo across the walls without a problem. He feels like he’s just peeled open his chest and bared his heart to someone he’s only known for a few months and it’s suffocating him like nothing else has before. He’s too scared to look at Y/N for fear of getting a negative reaction to his confession. But much to his relief, it goes better than he could’ve hoped for. “That’s beautiful, Harry.” He glances at her, sighing shakily, a shy smile taking up his quivering lips. “Y’mean that?” Y/N nods confidently, the palm of one of her hands coming up to smooth assuringly across the expanse of his tense back. “I really do. It’s beautiful, in tragic kind of way.” Harry snorts with amusement. “It’s nice to know that you find the inner turmoil of my soul to be artsy and tragic.” “I sure do. Shakespeare’s shook, sister.” Y/N releases a small fit of giggles and he can’t resist to joining in, feeling strangely better about a part of his life he had bottled up so long ago. “You should save it.” She suggests, patting his broad shoulder before moving to start picking up stuff to take to the trash can. “Keep it in case inspiration ever strikes again.” “Yeah...” Harry nods his head once as he glances back down at the paper thoughtfully, folding it up and slipping it into the back pocket of his trousers. “I will.” A loud ding brings Y/N out of the trip into her memories, the gilded doors of the elevator starting to crack open. Everything is hitting her at once, and she feels like she could collapse from all of the puzzle pieces knocking around the inside of her skull, connecting that specific past experience to what is happening between her and Harry presently. He had admitted to her that he was the type of personal to lock himself in when he felt emotionally threatened. He had confessed that he became cold and distant whenever he was sad. He had disclosed that his go-to mechanism for dealing with sentimental rejection was to block out the person causing it and to isolate himself in order to lick his wounds, no matter how badly he wanted to reconcile. All of these are characteristics of the behavior he had shown tonight when Y/N had stopped what was about to go down between them. If she wanted to fix this, she was going to have to break through to him. And for the first time, Y/N can see that Harry’s emotions for her were just as strong as her’s were for him. That it wasn’t just lust or infatuation of having something taboo, but rather actual feelings that had to do with so much more than a surface attraction. Not only this, but she also comes to terms with the fact that she had halted their actions not just because it clashed with their work situation, but because she herself had been afraid that what was going to happen between them might not have meant to Harry what is was going to mean to her. But now she knows. Knows that they are on the exact same page, emotionally and physically, and she’s not scared anymore. Not scared of what might go around at the office or of what anyone else would have to say or of what would happen after because it would be worth it— they meant more to each other than any baseless gossip. For the first time tonight, Y/N’s body acts not only on impulse of adrenalin and hormones, but also out of impulse of the heart. She reaches up quickly, her thumb hitting the gold slot that is engraved close doors in cursive. Then, with trembling fingers, she clicks the button that leads back up to Harry’s floor.

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harmonal · 5 years

Text

Hidden Boarding school Au set in their final year. Y/n suddenly feels her life shift when she sees a familiar face walk into her Biology class. Part 1 of 2

Pairing: Jimin x Oc/Reader

Word count: 6,000 +

Genre: Fluffiest of Fluff with some Angst

Warnings: None so far!

Authors Note: This started as a dream I had the day before valentines and I just had to write it down! Thank you for reading all my dribbles.

Rowland Private School became not only a home but it became my life. 6 years I had spent walking through the Victorian style building, it’s dreary outside contrasted with it gothic designs within its walls. A 10ft hedge surrounded the perimeter, its presence essentially shielding the building from the outside world and in turn preventing us from seeing what lay beyond.

Don’t be confused, I had enjoyed my time here. It gave me the best education I could hope for but with only 1 year left, I felt a dread slowly build inside me as each day past. The eventual departure into the adult world was coming up too fast, I was not in any way prepared. I would laugh a long with friends, well class mates, as they joked about the situation. Many already had futures with their families, CEO positions, businesses to take over, some to become doctors, some heirs to thrones, some planned to take a gap year and here I sat unsure. I hadn’t seen my parents in 2 years, my mother abroad on some diplomatic business and my father in Australia running the family business. I had been sent here as a spritely 11 year old and I haven’t left since. It was the first day of the semester, Biology class with Dr Park. A middle aged woman, her dark hair cut into a stylish bob which matched her choice of outfit. She had always chosen her outfits carefully to match the status of the school. This wasn’t a place to wear a fuzzy jumper or jeans. The class struggled to settle with the excited conversations of summer adventures and plans for the rest of the year. Several boys boomed with laughter from along the back row. Their faces just out of eyesight but I could easily imagine their eyes squeezed shut with tears as they continued their conversations. Dr Park tapped the board and the class become quiet, yet not everyone was focused as she wanted. I snorted as paper aeroplane flew across the room and hit the boy next to me in the face. My hand instantly covering my lips.

“Y/n is there an issue?”

Dr Park shouted across the classroom, her hand gripped onto her pen tighter as she paused mid sentence.

“No Dr Park. I’m sorry.” I could see the floor just swallowing me up, I hated the way my cheeks burned when attention was on me.

Instinctively I covered my face more with my small hands, the cooler touch of skin on skin helped with the blush.

“Are you okay Tae.” I whispered to him. Taeyung was one of the few I would call a friend. He gave me one of his signature box smiles in response, his eyes were soft and glowed with the autumn sun that cascaded upon his features. I nodded and picked my pencil up, I tried to focus, Biology was one of my strongest classes. I originally had aspirations of becoming s doctor, maybe a vet, I wasn’t so sure anymore. Classmates head began to turn towards the door and out of curiosity I did too. What I saw was a mop of blonde hair that covered his face, a frame slight under the same uniform we wore for school. Yet his face showed so much distaste.

“Ah good, class please.”

Dr Park coughed as she ushered the boy to her side. His posture one of apprehension standing in front of everyone , his face still looked to the floor, soft eyelashes outline dark eyes as they scanned the feet of the students in the front row.

“We have a new student starting with us today who will join us for the final year here at Rowlands.”

The classroom murmured as they took in the boy who stood before us, his hands ran through his hair nervously as Dr Park nudged him forward.

“Please take the seat at the back for me.”

The only empty seat at the back sat behind myself and Tae, he casually walked towards his seat as Dr Park caught our attention again. Two large diagrams filled the board. “Now, who can tell me the difference between an Animal Cell and a Plant cell?”

.…

“Did you see the way those girls looked that new kid today?” I laughed as Taeyung hung himself upside down beside my on the bed. His legs stretched up my wall and his arms fell behind him touching the floor with his finger tips. He was an odd ball.

“Do you know his name?”

He suggested. He had obviously been lost in his thoughts, his eyes looking towards the pattern of stars on my ceiling.

“Err no. I don’t.”

“I bet Jungkook would know,” he smiled as he shifted onto his stomach and reached for his phone. The screen shone with a selfie of us, a beautiful summers day last month that we had shared. Yet again my parents had left me here instead of having me at home and Tae was kind enough to stay too. My shoulders slipped down the wall until I was laying parallel to him. “Jungkookie knows everything,” he smirked searching for the boys contact. Tae presses call and waited as the dial tone blasted through his phone.

“Tae Hyung, what’s up!” His voice blared against the rumble of voices around him.

“JungKook, I need some information. Do you know anything about this new boy in our year? He came into Dr Parks Biology class this morning. “

“You mean the blonde one who’s sat right next to me.” He laughed, my body suddenly tensed up. “It’s Jimin. Man, I haven’t seen this kid for years since I was in Busan!”

Tae turned towards you, mouthing the words Busan, his eyes searching yours for any indication of an answer.

“Ah thanks bro, I’ll speak to you later.” He sat up pressing his shoulder to mine. His phone locked in his hand and he threw it off the bed. “Well?”

“Jimin from Busan? Don’t know him.”

My voice hitched as I said that name, the words tasted like vomit as I tried to keep my nerve, how could I look Tae dead in the eye and lie to him. I did know a Jimin, I knew Park Jimin. How could you ever forget your the name of your childhood friend. The small chubby boy with glasses that would accompany you anywhere. His voice echoed in your mind, the sound of giggles and screaming as you would play in the sea. But those memories were merely on the distance and it was now the present, they weren’t relevant anymore. It couldn’t be the same boy. Not after he left you, his family left yours, the hatred your parents had for them. You were separated and was told to forget him. And he to forget you too.

...

“His name is Park Jimin.”

“Do you think he’s related to Dr Park.”

“He sure is handsome.”

“He’s adorable.”

“Apparently he’s up for the soccer team.”

“He used to play for his old school.”

“I wonder why he moved schools”

“Do you think he got in trouble ?”

“Expelled?”

“Maybe something illegal ?”

It was endless, it had been a week since he first came into that classroom. I hugged my knees closer as I say between some girls from my class. The warm sun shone above as we waited for our turn again during our physical education class. Mr Kim had decided on a British sport called Rounders, like the American Baseball but less shouting and sliding. He mixed the classes so girls and boys were together. To my dismay Jimin had been put on my team yet no one else seemed to mind. The girls all seemed to just fall to his feet and it was turning me sick.

Lisa and Rose blushed as he looked our way, he sat just behind me in the line. They had not stopped chatting about him since the start of class, I merely nodded when they expected a response. Maybe the eye rolls weren’t a big enough hint for them. I smiled sweetly as I stood for my turn to bat, I wasn’t the best at sports but I’d give it a good go when I had to. I begrudgingly pulled down the silly sports skirt I was wearing, why the school chose such ridiculing uniforms I didn’t know. I took my stance in front of Jungkook who was enjoying pitching, his powerful throws caught most off guard but I knew him well enough now .

“Cmon kookie,” I blew him a kiss, “show me your worst.”

He smirked in reply and threw the ball square at me, I quickly swapped hands and back handed it to the right. Jungkook jaw hung low in surprise as i began to speed towards the first base and then the second and the third. If only I was fast enough but smaller student named Min Yoongi had already thrown it to forth.

I hesitated behind a tall boy at third, his long arms ready for the ball. I recognised him as Taeyungs room mate, a joyful character named Jung Hoseok but they all called him J hope. I could see why, his smiled out shone anyone around him, I looked towards the base and saw Jimin take the bat I had ditched just moments ago. It was becoming later in the day now, the orange sun cast behind him and silhouetted his body. He had matured into his body, no longer chubby but a defined arms, chest and legs. I shook my head, no, it wasn’t the same guy. I had to get that silly idea out of my head. Park was a common name and there has to be more than one Park Jimin in Korea.

“Y/n run!” I heard Tae scream from the side lines, in daydream moment Jimin had hit the ball hard and it was heading straight towards me and at my head.

I swore as it collided hard against my skull and as my body hit the ground. The pain throbbed as I pressed my hand to my face. It had hit my forehead, I could already feel a bruise forming and tears building in my eyes.

“Are you okay, I’m so sorry.” The hands were soft, fingers light as one hand wrapped around my arm and the other under my chin. My eyes met his, his iris dark ,his nose scrunched when he was unsure.

“Y/n”. His voice breathy and shocked. His grip loosened as the crowd formed around us.

“Now now, everyone back away.”

Mr Kim forced his way through the students. “Are you able to stand”. He asked me as he nudged Jimin out of the way. Mr Kim reached down and grabbed my hand, his strength pulled me up and I wobbled as I stood. My head hurt beyond belief, my stomach began to do flips. I almost fell straight back down.

“Okay okay. Looks like a concussion to me. I think it’s time for you to go back to the dorms.” I nodded closing my eyes, the earth seemed to move below my feet, stars appeared and my vision became dark.

... My eyes felt groggy as I peered open into the room. The pillow felt soft against my head, woollen blanket covered my bare legs. I suddenly shot up in the bed, why were my legs bare ? What happened to my uniform. I looked down and just saw my bra and underwear. Instinctively i drew the blanket close to my body and wrapped it around myself. “At least I’m still in my room,” I quietly laughed to myself, I winced as the pain shot through my head.

The sun had already began to set, the shadows cast along my tiny room. I looked to my desk, I grabbed the small mirror and looked at my face. I didn’t look too bad, the bruising sat above my right eye, it had already started to turn purple but luckily not much swelling. I hesitated to touch it.

The closed door of my bathroom unlocked, instantly I reacted and threw the mirror in its direction . A shocked Jimin stood with his hands up defensively, eyes wide like a doe. The mirror shattered on the floor and I felt my heart sank, it was one of my oldest possessions .

“What are you doing in here?!” I demanded, holding the blanket tighter to my semi naked body.

“Whoah I come in peace little dumpling.”

I squeaked at the name, it wasn’t something I had heard for 10 years.

“I brought you back to your room.” “How do you know where I stayed?”

I felt my voice become higher, I was panicking. I wasn’t sure why.

“Taeyung and Jungkook showed me.” Traitors, the both of them. He still had his hands up in the air.

“Look, now you’re awake I guess I’ll leave. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” My voice felt bitter. “For your head.. and I guess that mirror .” As he smiled you could see his eyes light up, the same as they did earlier.

“So I’ll see you around“. He smiled once more walking towards the door. I stood still, one hand against my chest and another on the desk. My heart rate was sky high, my mind racing.

What had just happened. Park Jimin was in my room. He saw me in my underwear. Heat filled my cheeks once more, I had become irrational in the moment.

I grabbed my phone and two texts appeared .

Taetae [one way to entertain the class. that was crazy how you managed to throw up everywhere. Give me a text when you’re up and ready for dinner! ]

Unknown [Im sorry again]

That would explain the lack of clothes. Concussion did normally lead to nausea and memory loss. I sat back on the bed, waving my fingers over the two texts. Undecided who to reply to first.

Y/n [meet me for dinner in 10 mins?]

Taetae [sure, I’m already down in the hall with Jungkook].

Great, he was probably enjoying all of this. His childish nature brought out the worst in Tae. I sighed and slowly reached for casual wear in my bed side draws before applying as much concealer as possible to my forehead through wincing. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was the talk of the school now after that mishap and sure enough, all conversations stopped as I walked in and sat behind the boys.

“Ah here she is,” Tae wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I sat next to him. “Your head looks alright,” tilting his head to have a better view, “does it hurt?”

He giggled as I pushed away from the pain of his finger pressing into my forehead.

“You little ..” I pressed my lip to stop the curse, his hand now by his side. I looked around the table. Tae sat next to Jungkook, with yoongi, j hope on the other side. They all seemed too engrossed with food to notice another person sit down. He sat next to Jungkook on the opposite side to me. The six of us on the end of the bench like tables. I couldn’t not notice the bright blonde in this light , the colour suited him, it defined his face. Soft features now formed into a straight cut jaw, sharp lines, smokey eyes which seemed to stare into your soul.

Jimin coughed suddenly , I had been staring far too long and he noticed.

“How are you feeling?” It was almost a whisper, as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “I’m okay.” I really needed to get over myself, he made my heart jump a beat each time his eyes met mine. He made me flustered. He made weak. He made me frustrated with myself. Tae nudged me in the ribs.

“Lisa has some crazy idea that she wants to have a party now the snooty old prefects are gone! You in?”

“When is it?” I questioned, my body turning to his.

“Tomorrow night.” He smiled.

“But that’s a Tuesday night.” I spoke in hush, surprised at the day in question.

“The teachers wouldn’t expect it. Less patrol and less prefects to interfere.”

“I’m in.” I needed some fun for once. The same old routine was becoming bleak and boring.

“You wanna come Jimin? Be a good chance to meet some of the girls.” Jungkook called across the table, Jimin looked up from his plate to me and then to Kookie. His face complex. I watched as he pondered his decision, the corner of his lips turning up as a smirk appeared. His eyes met with mine.

“Sure why not.” Why was he staring at me like that. It made me shiver, if it wasn’t for the warm body of Tae almost pressed next to me on the bench then I would have assumed I was cold.

“Good. It’s a plan then. I think Lisa said she’s just gonna hold it in the common room. I know all the soccer team are already going.”

“No surprise there.” I snorted, ideally stirring the peas on my plate, avoiding the eye contact that burnt into my head.

“Well you know what she’s like.” Tae said dramatically. “Remember that one year . Her and Taemin got caught in the lower hall toilets.”

“No way!” Jimin laughed. “Did they get in trouble?”

“Well no. Her daddy paid off the school to keep quiet. She didn’t however.” I rolled my eyes.

“Are all the girls in this school sluts then?” Jimin questioned.

“What’s that supposed to mean.” I snapped.

“Well I’ve already seen one in their underwear.” His voice playful as the table started to roar; J hope laughing as Yoongi almost spat his food everywhere, Jungkook slapping the table laughing as Tae questioned Jimin.

“Who’s the girl? Duh you’ve only been here 5 mins and already a hit.” He smiled at Jimin. But Jimin still had his eyes locked on mine. Who did he think he was. Tae was right, he’s only just arrived at the school and wants to give off that impression. I guess he wanted to be known as a player then.

“Okay, games in our room?” Tae stood up from his spot almost tipping me off the edge of the bench.

“Cmon Jimin, why don’t you join us? I’m sure Jungkook needs to some fresh competition around here. Y/n, you coming?”

“Yeah guess so, I was that hungry anyways.” I placed my fork down on the half empty plate and walked after Tae towards the dorms, shamefully aware of Jimin walking behind me. I consciously continued to have the conversation in my own head, was he really the same child I knew.

... I was still attempting to convince myself otherwise several hours later as I sat on the floor with my back against Taes bed. Jungkook and J hope fully indulged in a game of Mario Kart. Some students were blessed with more lavish rooms provided by their parents, Taeyung not being an exception. His parents were art dealers and ran several galleries across Asia and Australia. His side of room hung replicas of his favourites, whilst J hope had some random K pop posters on his walls. He says it’s like nostalgia to him seeing bedrooms the way they were 10 years ago. I just enjoyed looking at the girls outfits if I was honest.

I relaxed my head against the soft mattress of Taes bed, Tae sat next to me on the floor whilst Jimin, J hope and Jungkook sat on the bed. You could feel the bed move as they over exaggerated their movements on the screen. It was funny, I couldn’t deny it. J hope always knew how to light up the room with his jokes and funny gestures. Jimin had been unsurprisingly quiet, well he was quiet compared to the rest of them. They all wouldn’t shut up. He did remind me of that child but the one I knew wasn’t shameful, boastful or generally an ego-tistic person who this Jimin was. The way he stared, the way he smirked. I internally groaned, I took my phone out to pass the time. Flicking through social media to pass the time, seeing Lisa’s latest twitter update advertising her party. My phone vibrates with the text message tone.

Unknown [you never replied to my message earlier]

Y/n [who is this? And how did you get my number?]

Humming under my breath. I knew exactly who it was, it was more the method he got my number. It was though I could feel his breath on the bass of my neck, the heat from him behind me. I knew his legs were crossed and I could feel his weight dipping the mattress.

Unknown [now now dumpling. How could you forget me?]

Y/n [how could you forget me Jimin]

I heard him laugh under his breath. That was a bold text, more of a test. I waited for a reply but none came, the boys were settling down now. It was getting close to curfew when we all had to be in our rooms. The only disadvantage about a boarding school is the rules. One of the only reasons I was looking forward to leaving, I could make my own rules .

“Okay guys, I’m gonna head to bed. Got some homework to do anyways. Thanks for the fun!”

“But Y/n you didn’t even go against me!” Jungkook pouted at me, his soft young features made him look like a child.

“Next time Kookie. I promise!” I waved at everyone before opening their door and leaving.

The hallways were quiet at this time of night, many students were already in their rooms. Many studying or doing homework. Curfew had always been strict for us, all students regardless of age or class had to be in their rooms by 8.30pm sharp. The social scene wasn’t huge at Rowland’s but we made do with the little events we had. We had a prom every summer and a winter formal, it was just some excuse for the older kids to sneak in alcohol and take advantage of the later curfew. The school might be for the higher end students but they sure didn’t act it when it came to having fun. Lisa was a prime example, Jungkook or Tae weren’t saints either. The memories of their phones being confiscated due to a group chat they created, you can only imagine what it included. A tune hummed between my lips, soft melody raising and falling, it was of my favourite piano tune. One I could never remember the name to but could hum the whole song effortlessly.

The girls dormitory was in a separate wing to the boys, you had to walk down a back hall way past the open gardens of the school and up a floor. I aimlessly scrolled through my phone as I walked, notifications of group chats, a text from Tae appeared. I stopped to open it up, too many times I’ve walked straight into dorm thing whilst engrossed with my phone.

Tae [you seemed a little off this evening. You okay?]

Y/n [i’m good, don’t worry about me 😘]

“Y/n.” I thought my heart had jumped from my own chest, the sudden voice caused myself to jump and almost drop my phone. I stumbled as grabbed it before it hit the floor, my hand reached for the wall to push myself back up.

“Jimin.” I attempted to catch my breath back again as i spun to him.

“Why’d you scare me like that!” “Sorry.” He looked to his shoes.

“You need to stop saying sorry.”

“Okay.” We both stood there, only the moonlight to illuminate the hallways through the ceiling high windows. It felt awkward, as though neither of us knew what to say.

“Look..” “Y/n..”

We both spoke at the same time, both gesturing for the other one to speak.

“I got your number from Tae.” He said first. He looked sincerely at me as to encourage me not to retaliate once more. Maybe he remembered the mirror incident earlier too well. “I asked for it last week, when I saw you sitting with him in that Biology class. I wanted to see if my mind was really playing tricks on me Y/n. My parents told me i’d never see to you again.” He stepped closer, his fingers reached for my face , brushing stray parts of my fringe from my face.

“It’s not swollen much has it?” He smiled into his chest as his fingers lingered touching my skin. It stung where he lightly pressed but I couldn’t concentrate with his close he was. His eyes were the same, how I could I not realise before but they were the same. The small sweet smile, I looked up to him as he towered over me. He may be shorter compared to the other guys but he was still taller than me.

“It really is you. Isn’t it?” My voice small and faint, not really believing what I was saying.

“Who else would I be? Little dumpling?” He shook his head and took a step back from me, hands trembling as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Why did you leave?” I knew I should have eased in with a better question but it was all I could think of.

“My father made that decision.” His back now turned away from me. “I.. we.. they didn’t want us to talk to each other any more. Our families decided.. they..”

“They what Jimin?”

“Nothing. Actually I don’t even know I thought it would be a good idea to come here, to this school.”

“Pardon?” He turned and looked at me, dead in the eyes with his lips sealed shut. “Jimin. What aren’t you saying?” I pushed further. My mind racing. My eyebrows knitted together causing my head to throb slightly.

I wasn’t the type of person to enjoy having secrets kept from me, especially from someone like this. I knew him but didn’t at the same time. A decade had passed since we properly knew one another, now he stood before stammering as though the words were stuck in his throat.

“Nothing. Let’s pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“No. You can’t do that!” I began to yell. Grabbing onto his hoody.

“You can’t just re appear in my life like that. Acting all strange around me. One moment being kind and then an asshole when the guys are around. What do you take me for? Some dumb blonde.” I could feel the rage burning inside, there was confusion, distraught and most of all frustration. “I haven’t seen you for 10 years and you’ve yet to grow up. We’re 18 not 8 anymore.” The words echoed down the empty hall. He still stood before me, watching me, that same stare he did before, it made me itch.

“Just tell me what you want to say!” I demanded once more. “Jimin.” It felt more like a please at this point. My body was pushed against the cool glass of the window, soft hands pressing my face into his. His gentle lips touching mine, all I could do was whimper at sensation. My arms had gone limp and my hand released the grip on his hoody. In my mind what felt like minutes was only seconds, my lungs had forgotten to function and I gasped for my air as he pulled away. He placed his finger against my lips.

“Shh. Someone is coming.” Panic began to set in as I saw the clock on the wall behind his head. It read 8.40pm, 20 mins past curfew. We were going to be in trouble. Not only for being up late but also Jimin not even being near his dorm at all.

Footsteps seemed to become closer in the hall. I tilted my head in the direction of my dormitories. Jimin nodded his head in response, we navigated ourselves in between the shadows til we reached the door. “Quick!” I whispered as I pushed it open. The sound of the door clicking shut was louder than expected and I heard the disgruntled voice beyond it. Shaken, I scrambled for my keys in my pocket. The small silver key that belonged to my dorm room door slammed into the lock and with a wiggle I pushed the door open.

We collapsed against his other on the floor, mirroring each other’s actions as we sat with backs against the door. Almost feeling as the action would create more security. I turned my head to face him once more, his lips were parted as he was breathing heavily. Gentle strands of blonde hair hung from his forehead. Eyes narrowed as they looked back at me. I could have easily been lost in that moment and didn’t care.

“What was that kiss about back there?” I whispered once more.

“It was the quickest way I thought to shut you up.” He weakly smiled.

“You never answered the question either.”

“I think it’s time I should go back to my room.” He began to stand to his feet.

“No. You still haven’t answered.” I stubbornly replied and I attempted to get to my feet too.

I watched as his hands pulled the door open and taking a quick glance outside.

“Good night Y/n.” I looked up to him again, he gently placed a kiss on my cheek before walking straight out of my room, and essentially disappearing again whilst my mind had so many questions. ....

My eyes were still open when the first alarm blared next to me. I didn’t need to turn my head as I swung my arm at the phone.

A million voices circled my mind as I tried to conjure up an answer for last night. Why did this happen, what did my parents try to hide, what was I meant to do now? Just go on as normal? I had tried to texted Jimin but no reply I assumed he was asleep. I rubbed my eyes rigorously in a feeble attempt of erasing the sore, dry crust that had disgustingly formed around them.

“Eww.” I muttered whilst pottering around to gather uniform for breakfast. No end of make up could hide the purple circle under my eyes, matched with a now yellow/green bruise on my forehead. I wasn’t even sure how I could have forgotten about that. About the incident, about jimin seeing me in this room. Without clothes on. The thought made me shiver.

It wasn’t as though I was shy with my sexuality or body, I wasn’t. Lisa had made sure of that over the years.

But that felt too intimate for us, I struggled to envision it. Both of us to be that close to each other, I won’t deny ever fantasising about it but I was constantly reminded about how much like brother and sister we were. So it eventually left a sick feeling in my mouth any time I thought of him any other way than my brother.

Now I felt frustrated with the memories, I remember the day it happened, we all had been around the Parks for dinner. The father had just come home and my parents said we were leaving. And that was it, i was enrolled with Rowlands the next week and sent on my way. Why didn’t I push more for it? Maybe I was too excited to finally be away and in boarding school. I missed Busan dearly.

... The usual suspects sat around our normal breakfast table, Yoongi deep into his notes as a strong beat thumped in his headphones, J hope was chatting to Jungkook who smiled as I sat next to him.

“Good morning Miss Zombie.” They both giggled. I did my best attempt of a stare which only created more giggles.

“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Jungkook continued, he rolled his eyes before turning back to J hope in their conversation. Tae looked at me concerned, he reached over the table with his hand, a simple yet deep gesture.

“I’m okay.” I whispered to him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew something wasn’t right. I didn’t want to burden him with anything though, he already had enough on his plate with the pressure from his parents. However, his deep eyes seemed to suck my soul in and I couldn’t resist telling him things. It was though he was begging me as he kept the eye contact.

“Am I interrupting?” Jimin smirked as he sat next to Tae. He eyed me up, I felt naked as he scanned my face and hung on my eyes. There wasn’t a blanket to hide behind this time, yesterday had felt like it happened months ago. I looked back to Tae and in that moment he knew. He knew it was Jimin.

I wanted to cry, I wasn’t normally a crier but between the situation and my lack of sleep, and with the head ache that had started to pound I could feel the tears begin to fill my eyes.

“I don’t feel well. I’m gonna go to the nurse.” I stood up sluggish and walked out, my movements slow as I staggered out of the canteen and towards the nurses office by the front reception. But heavy footsteps and voice stopped me.

“Wait Y/n.” I was happy and equally disappointed as I turned and saw Tae. “Cmon lets go talk somewhere.”

I simply nodded, no words to respond even if I did my voice wouldn’t have made a single word without bawling.

He dragged me into the nearest empty classroom, as soon as the door clicked shut. He pulled me close and held me tight. The familiar smell, his aftershave smelt strong and the warmth from his skin made my face burn.

We stayed still like this was a few minutes whilst he rubbed circles into my back as I attempted to fight back the tears. I needed to stop, I needed to calm down. I was over reacting and it was making me more frustrated. The more frustrated I became, the more tears began to fall down my cheeks and Tae in turn held me tighter.

I sniffles and began to pull away. “I’m sorry.” Attempting to laugh in between the tears. I rested my arms back against a table facing Tae. He smiled at me sympathetically.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s really complicated.” I wiped the corner of my eye with my right sleeve, the wool material scratching my skin.

“Try me.” He folded his arms as he mirrored your actions and leaned against the adjacent table.

“I knew Jimin before last week.” I looked at him to gage a reaction. However, he didn’t even move an inche but silence implied for me to continue. “My parents and his were close, we were close. Then suddenly we weren’t. I got shipped to this school and never saw him again til last week. I had no way to contact him or even know where he was. Then he spoke to me last night, said some things... did something and now here I am with no make up on, haven’t slept at all and crying my eyes out to my best friend cause some of guy.” Tears re-emerged as I tried to control myself.

“Sorry I’m just getting frustrated.”

“It’s okay. What did he say? If you don’t mind me asking ?”

“That his father decided we couldn’t be friends anymore basically. I asked him what that meant but he wouldn’t tell me. I just want to know Tae, I was stupid to never question it as a child but he kissed me Tae. Jimin kissed me.”

The colour slowly drained from Taes face, his expression like stone but his eyes gave him away. He didn’t like that, he really didn’t like the idea of Jimin kissing me. Tae had always assumed the big brother role, defending me and protecting me. It didn’t surprise me he was trying to do it again.

“Well did you want that?”

“I don’t know . Maybe? No? I don’t know.” I felt dramatic. I was over this conversation already. “ I think I feel better now.” I looked to him as though to plead not to continue. “Okay lets go.”

#BTS fanfic #BTS fanfiction #Jimin Fanfiction #BTS imagine #Jimin imagine

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kwrittink · 6 years

Text

Hidden Majesty (5) - Final

Pairing: JEON JUNGKOOK X READER (Prince!JJK AU)

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: Language, death threats, mentions of murder

Words: 9,305 (WHEW)

Part 4

Suggested Song: Champion (Remix) - Fall Out Boy ft. RM

JungKook breathed out anxiously as they reached the first destination signed in the map. This is where Y/N spent almost a year hiding. He thought, debating if they should stop on the simple shack. I don’t want to waste more time.

- What are you waiting for, your Majesty? We have to lay low here for the night, the ride is short tomorrow but the horses still need their rest. - Yoona spoke, jumping out of her horse - a beautiful brown horse, with simple braided mane and a gold medal with the Jeon crest on the very tip of the braid, since it was a gift given by his father - and guiding him towards the back of the house, where JugnKook found to exist a pole where surely his friends tied up their horses. Since I take they’re together with Y/N right about now. Yoona had explained him the very surface of the issue, since Yoongi had only left her a letter - he felt a little hurt to not be informed but he’d ask for the reasons later - that said he and the rest of the knights were leaving on a hurry towards a secret place with Y/N, and she had to drag the prince as soon as possible to the location he’d indicate later on.

- But shouldn’t we just keep going? You said Yoongi wanted us to rush. - he inquired, and Yoona nodded, while checking the inside of the single room shack.

- He did, but I’m not risking my neck on some unknown woods where maybe there aren’t wolves, but could have bears, since even your kingdom’s crest have them. - she started, as JungKook followed her inside, watching her check the cupboards for pots and any spare food. - Besides, if we’re still on this kingdom tomorrow morning, the Queen will be more at ease. Remember she has her guards on the loose, and could send them to search for us if the King stops paying attention. - she reasoned, and JungKook nod once, grabbing an apple as Yoona threw it for him.

He walked around, covering the whole shack in less than ten steps, and wondered how could Y/N live on a place like that. I know she was simple, but even her room on the maiden tower was bigger than this. He thought, sitting on the straw bed, biting on the fruit.

- I know the whole place looks awful, but it could be worse. And the guys were taking care of her. - Yoona voiced his concerns, and he snickered. He did felt better that they went out of their ways to protect her, but JungKook also felt bad for being so powerless to be unable to even keep the woman he loved close to him.

- Yeah, I really appreciate that. But I feel like a whole circus is happening and I’m always the last to know about things... I just want to meet her again. - he sighed, throwing himself back on the mattress, automatically smelling the characteristic odor of cinnamon and vanilla only Y/N had. And here I thought it was just because of the baking... He thought, a pang on his chest as he clutched the thin white sheet.

- She’s closer than ever now. But that’s why we need to be more careful. - Yoona started, and as she sat on the bed beside him, they heard a rustle coming from under her, something just like a paper being kneaded. She got up, lifting the sheet and scoffed, picking up the square of paper probably Yoongi left there. JungKook jumped up, eyes widening as he noticed the other tip Yoongi left them.

- What does it say? - he asked, almost snatching the paper from Yoona’s hands. She walked to the window, where the moonlight was already shining through - they didn’t lighted any candles up to keep a low profile - and frowned as she read.

- My brother really has to learn how to write properly. It says something along the lines of “in the midday sun look for the wolves, and they will guide you to the castle”. What does he mean? - Yoona whispered to herself, passing the note to JungKook, which also frowned at the hurried writing.

- Weren’t the wolves just a legend? I mean Isn’t this just something people made up because they couldn’t go past the Dark Woods? - he asked, and Yoona shruggered.

- I mean, maybe... Like I said your kingdom is reported to have bears, what stops these rumors to really being true? Maybe people really couldn’t go near that place because there were really wolves on the woods. - Yoona proposed. Still, JungKook had so many questions.

If there are really wolves there - and as feral as people used to say they were - how did Yoongi and the rest went through? How will we reach them? And what about “the wolves will guide you” thing? Is it a metaphor?

- My Queen, are you feeling alright? Do you need something? - Mia, a maiden from the castle - designed to be Y/N’s chaperone - asked as she winced in pain, something like a small contraction bothering her for the third time on that day. She turned, snickering. Surely she being called Queen wasn’t a thing she would be used to quickly.

- Ah no Mia I’m fine. And please, call me Y/N. “Your Majesty” and “My Queen” feels so impersonal, and hours ago I was someone just like you... - she trailed off, turning from her seat to look at the girl. She was younger than her, tall and thin, had short hair and fair skin, and always wore a smile, even when she showed concern for her. Really, a sweet girl.

- Ah I can’t do that, Majesty. See, I don’t mean to offend you at all but - she started, looking down, then holding Y/N’s hands. - You’ve always have been our Queen. You’ve always been Queen Gabrielle’s child, may your mother rest in peace, because her blood runs in your veins, don’t forget that, my Queen. So you’ve never been really a commoner, but just disguised as one. - she said, and Y/N automatically took a step back, a bit shocked by the reality Mia presented to her. It was blunt, but it was the truth, if Y/N thought about it. I was never really me, was I? Even if I didn’t knew that, there was this hope - from aunty Hani to all those people here. And I can’t let them down now. They are my saviors, and I need them even more than they need me.

- In my humble opinion, Ithink it was a good thing that she grew up with us commoners. - Taehyung entered the common room, bow and arrows hung on his shoulders. - It gives our Queen the perspective to understand her people better. - he stated, and Y/N felt an itch on her chest as he referred to her as his Queen too. To be honest the others have been doing that too, like a rebellious act about Quen Fae. But for Tae, I think he really means it.

- Oh Sir Kim, I didn’t heard you come in. - Mia said, bowing respectfully at him. Too respectfully, to be honest. Oh something is going on in here... Y/N realized, as she smiled to the knight, which was pretty famous for having a blank, expressionless face. But I don’t think he’d hide something from me. She thought. Taehyung had being since day one in hiding, her most loyal friend and reliable ally. Didn’t meant the others didn’t helped, but Tae in fact was very present on her life, Y/N could even chance say almost daily. He hunted for me, bought things and helped me when I felt sick, due to pregnancy. He had been such a good friend.

- Good thing I’m still swift then huh? How have you been, Mia? - he asked, and by the way she blushed while still looking down, Y/N understood she had been one of those girls Yoongi mentioned previously.

- I’ve been alright, thank you sir. - she lifted her head ever so slightly to glance at him, and he smiled, patting her head affectionately afterwards, which made Mia blush even more.

- Good. - his voice was warm too, and it made Y/N snicker to herself. - The whole fourteen knights are on the meeting room, and they asked me to walk you there. - he turned to Y/N, which nodded. Since the wolves had recognized her as Queen they all had been very quiet, talking among themseves, and Y/N wondered if it was about the battle she felt on her bones it would come. Even if JungKook reaches here before the Queen’s army... I don’t think she’ll let all of this slip so easily without a fight.

The meeting room was a majestic space, even if not as big as the next kingdom’s, but still amazing to say the least. And it’s my own meeting room, so I’m not complaining. Y/N thought, as she looked around, the paintings of the previous leaders with a wolf by the side and a rose on their hands.

- Ah, the Queen is here. Please take your seat, Majesty. - one of the Golden Wolves said, and Y/N turned away from the picture of her mother - a woman much like her, with green sparkly eyes, mouth curled up on a soft smile and a long hair braided with gold threads, posing just like the other Kings and Queens before her - to look at the one she recognized as the first who ever talked to her, when the wolves “ceremony” took place.

- Thank you, Tae. - Y/N patted her friend’s hand as he helped her sit on the head of the table, her huge size proving to be difficult to handle. Sheepishly smiling, she turned to the one who greeted her earlier. - Very well, what is going on? You all have been awfully quiet, but this sudden call made me nervous. What’s the situation? - she inquired, looking to her left and right, where the knights had divided themselves. On the far left corner, a man cleared his throat.

- You see, my Queen - it was a white haired man who spoke, and his soft tone surprised Y/N at first - We were talking with your friends from Jeon kingdom, which explained to us the resume of your story. The part we’re worried of is what will happen after the arrival of the prince of Jeon, which is as they said, the father of your child. - he started, getting up to speak closer to Y/N, which nodded carefully. She didn’t expected him to be such a big man - the armor from before made them all look very big and muscular, but just the one which Y/N deducted was the leader looked buffed so far - and got a little intimidated by the way his arms strained against the fabric of the brown cotton shirt he wore.

- Well I was thinking about that, too... What is your name, knight? I think you all never told me your names. - she asked, and the one talking seemed to hesitate, like he had only realized that fact.

- Oh I’m sorry my Queen. I’m Shin Hoseok, but everyone calls me Wonho. - he explained, and Y/N smiled at the man, then turned to the rest, waiting for them to introduce themselves. Taking the hint, they all scrambled to their feet, and told her their names, to which Y/N responded with a “nice to meet you” for all of them. So, the oldest is Son Hyungwoo - or Shownu,a s the others said his nickname was -, followed by this kingdom’s Shin Hoseok, then the very loud one Lee Minhyuk. After comes Yoo Kihyun which is apparently very sweet, and Chae Hyungwon follows - he’s very handsome too -, theres this dimpled one just like Namjoon, Lee Jooheon... And the youngest, Lim Changkyun, which looks very taciturn. Y/N nodded at each one of them while hearing their names.

- I take that you guys are already acquitanced with the Battle Troop Soldiers, so we’ll just... Get this going. - Y/N said, feeling a little awkward suddenly. It felt too real to be Queen for five hours and already be doing a tactic meeting, which she felt that was.

- Yes. About the arrival of Prince JungKook, I gave him instructions to reach this place, and he’s together with my sister, currently his wife. It’s a complicated situation, but I think we can solve this without much quarrel. - Yoongi explained, and Y/N bit her lip. I shouldn’t b feeling jealous all of a sudden, Yoongi explained to me that his sister has no interest on JungKook whatsoever but still... He’s married to her.

- That’s were we disagree, unfortunately. See, we’ve been deceived in this kingdom before by Queen Fae, and our present queen here is live proof of that. - Kihyun interjected, throwing a tight smile to the spy. - Strategically speaking, the army of Fae is already on the move, and even if the King of Jeon himself guarantee there won’t be any attacks, there’s no way to be sure she will abide to his order, since she recently seemed to be a little disobedient. So I don’t want to take chances on this matter, I hope you understand me, Majesty. - he stated, and Y/N nodded quietly. She turned to Hoseok, the one responsible for the strategy on his team, which hummed, also nodding, a little frown gracing his face.

- Understandable. It has been really odd of the Queen to act like such but since we are on terms with what is happening, I understand you concerns. - Hoseok started, fingers brushing on his lips, a mischievious glint on his eye. - And we also have to think about politics for a bit, right Namjoon? - he turned to look at the super smart knight, that nodded too, turning to look at the respective leader on the other group.

- Yes, taking that Y/N’s child is the heir to this kingdom and fourth in line for the throne on Jeon. So if everything goes smoothly, the alliance between the kingdoms are certain. - Namjoon spoke, and thought Y/N’s head was spinning, she tried to organize her thoughts.

- Right, so this is the picture where Fae just sits and waits for us to break a marriage and do another, forming an union with a kingdom she despises. Which to be honest I really wanted to believe, but deep in my guts I know won’t happen. So I want to know what are the options, what can be done if something like an attack blows in front of the kingdom. - she asked, and Jooheon leaned forward, hand signaling he was about to speak, and Y/N tilted her head at him.

- We don’t have a great army, but we have two things that had kept us safe all this time in Tantalas, which are location and the wolves. - he said, and the girl frowned at his words. Yes, the wolves had been protecting this land and all, but can we expect them to fight against the Jeon army? Together with the rest of the soldiers?

Meanwhile he waited Y/N process what he had just said, Kihyun and Minhyuk got up, picking a roll from a shelf nearby and opening it on the table.

- What Jooheon means is that we have here two strong borders on the kingdom, which are the mountain chains. and just in front of us there’s the Dark Woods, where we have the packs of wolves that had been protecting our space for as long as we know. - Minhyuk pointed out, indicating the places he mentioned. Y/N tried to lean and look, but her condition made it a little hard to bend.

- I guess it would be better if you bring that map over, Sir Lee. Our Queen is a little... Handicaped, to put it one way. - Jimin proposed, making the lot laugh, as well as Y/N, that blushed at the way he referred at it.

- True, we should also ask for some snacks and water, this will be tiresome for our Majesty. - Taehyung agreed, searching around with his eyes for someone to attend them.

- Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Had a great dinner, ate for two, so won’t be needing any food for now, guys. Besides, I’m nervous about this whole thing, so you all have to explain exactly what are we going to do. - Y/N said, and the knights chuckled at her remark, abiding to her request, and resuming to explain the strategy.

It was the moment to join forces, and most of all, protect the cherished ones. The people want to protect their land and families, the knights, the people - and myself . And I will do anything on my power to protect my beloved baby.

The sun was high in the sky when Yoona and JungKook started moving towards what the prince hoped to be their final destination. I need to reach Y/N as soon as possible. He thought, feeling inside of his gut that something really bad wwas about to happen.

- Hey I know you’re upset for what I said but... Try to look less like we’re in a hurry to get somewhere. The news on the country is that we’re on a lovely travel around the land, so we won’t be bothered much... Unless we blow our cover. And by we, I mean you. - Yoona deadpanned, even if she tried to sound sweet and understanding. JungKook scoffed, acutely aware at how similar she was with Yoongi, even on that sense.

- I’m sorry little princess, but I’m almost acting on pure instinct right here. Is not everyday that you hear your own mother is trying to murder the woman you love because of some silly love quarrel that happened twenty and such years ago. - he sassed, and Yoona shrugged.

- I know, that story those elders told me about the death on Queen Gabrielle was pretty much brutal. But again, you have to control yourself. Even I am looking forward to this, since it will mean that I’ll be free and you will stop calling me by that stupid nickname. - she quipped back, causing the prince to chuckle softly. Yoona had woken up extremely early, and went to the nearest village to bring some water, when she said she met a couple of elders, which were trading fruits for meat. Within five minutes of conversation Yoona said that they started talking about a story which should be told correctly to the people, and mentioned the Queen, telling her about the fight she had with Tantalas’ Queen for King William, and how that resulted on the death of the Queen of the forementioned kingdom.

They kept riding in silence for a while, noticing how the vegetation started to look taller, untouched by the hand of the humans more and more as they progressed. Yoona noticed how immersed in his own thoughts the prince was, and decided to not bother him. JungKook appreciated that, because there was so much noise on his head it buzzed incessantly, trying to decide what he had to do first once he got to Tantalas.

I mean, after I meet with Y/N, that is. Since the troops of my mother are coming in a fast pace, I have to get a plan quickly, and I wonder if that kingdom has any defensive measures, because I take that the only thing that kept people away from them are the wolves apparently. There’s the issue of the knights too, since they are helping a decreed fugitive... They can be accused of treason, so I have to keep them safe. I’ll have to deal with the wrath of my father, I’m sure he’ll be really pissed about this whole problem. But the main problem is my mother. If she doesn’t retreat her army, there is going to be a battle, and will be difficult to arrange terms later on, independently on which one of the parts wins. He breathed out heavily, looking ahead to the forest already in sight.

- Look over there JungKook, you see it? - Yoona whispered by his side, and he turned to look at where the girl was pointing. His breath hitched on his throat.

Ahead of them, just where the trees were tall and indicated the beginning of the Dark Woods, was sitting a big gray wolf. As soon as JungKook looked eyes with the golden ones of the animal, he felt a chill run through his spine. As on cue, the wolf threw his head up, howling loudly, like a siren.

- Holy shit, theres a lot more of those. - Yoona stressed, looking beyond the first wolf, and JungKook nodded, mouth gaped. The wolves will guide you to the castle.

- Oh, you hear that? The wolves are howling. - Changkyung said, his voice low as he smiled at Y/N, while she finished her meal. The knights were taking turns while taking care of Y/N, while they resolved the last details on their defense plan. Y/N perked up and looked at him, as again a long howl cut through the air.

- What does this mean? Is that Queen Fae? - she asked, and the swordman shook his head no.

- They won’t make a sound when her troops approach. Sir Min said your prince and his sister would be arriving a little past midday, and I guess that is about time, my Queen. - he said, and Y/N’s breath hitched on her throat. JungKook is here! She realized, heart beating hard as she got up quickly, and almost tripping on her long dress, wasn’t for Chankyung’s fast reflexes. At the same time, Taehyung entered the kitchen - where Y/N said she preferred to eat, still not used to that big empty table on the dining room -, completely disheveled, followed close behind by the other knights.

- What is that, are we under attack already? - he asked. Changkyung shook his head again, after steading Y/N on her feet, and threw a dirty look at his battle companions.

- No, this is just the warning that the prince of Jeon is arriving. We the Golden Wolves must have been aware of that, right team? - he sassed, and Y/N would have chuckled at the scene of the youngest scolding his elders, but the sole prostect of seeing JungKook again made her completely alien to the rest.

- Ah let’s go then, the Queen must be anxious to meet him. - Jimin quipped, a light smile on his face. Taehyung sighed relieved, nodding as he grabbed Y/N’s hand - shocking the Tantala’s knights meanwhile, not really used with that kind of skinship - and guided her quickly to the main entrance, to wait for JungKook’s arrival, followed by the rest.

The wolves kept howling one by one, each of them closer to the end of the woods, and Y/N was completely amazed by the scenario, because as she arrived at the big doors of the castle, there were soldiers lined up in front of the garden, dark gray shining armors on, about seven hundred to a thousand men, which Y/N realized was her own army.

She heard what Changkyung told her it was the last howl - there were twenty selected wolves leading their way to Tantalas - and breathed out, suddenly nervous, and unsure on how to react. This is the first time he will see me after almost nine months, and I’m pregnant. How will he react? I mean I know he had intentions of marrying me, but... Y/N thought, and Taehyung noticed her sudden nervous state, squeezing her hand slightly.

- It’s going to be okay, my Queen. - he whispered, and she turned to smile faintly at him, squeezing his hand back. She’d be forever grateful for him, mainly because she knew that he had plans back then to take her and her baby as his family, if for some reason Y/N never got to see JungKook again. He really has a golden heart, and for that I’ll make sure he is as happy as I’m sure I will be.

- Here they come. - Jimin approached the both of them, placing his hand on her shoulder. The knights placed in front of her straightened up, as soon as Y/N’s eyes noticed the appearence of two horses, a brown and a black one, eyes watering.

By the other side of the garden gallopping as fast as it was allowed for them, came JungKook, heart almost beating out of his chest, followed by a smiling Yoona, relieved to see them safe on that place. The people at the castle’s surroundings were coming far behind, warned by the wolves howls, wanting to know what was about to happen.

It was like the time slowed down, when JungKook reached the front garden. He could see her, Y/N, smiling at him from behind what he understood were her knights, and barely registered the waves of his own team behind her, as he jumped out of his horse.

- Y/N! - he shouted, feeling out of breath for being so anxious, stopping at the front stairs and looking up at her. Slowly, her black-armored soldiers opened way for her to walk, and guided by Taehyung and Jimin, she slowly descended the stairs, bright smile on her face.

- Oh my lord that’s a big belly! - Yoona commented by his side, and only then he noticed the very pregnant state Y/N found herself in, and for a second he was unable to breath.

- Hello, my prince! - she finally reached down the stairs, watching as he observed her with shocked eyes and chuckled. He had noticed her condition already, and to stress it, Y/N placed her hands over her tummy, showing the whole size of her belly. - Our baby and I missed you greatly. - she complemented, looking from herself to him, which still sported a statue-like stance.

- M-mine? Is it... Our child? But how? - he stammered softly, and Y/N couldn’t help but tear up while she chuckled, observing a small smile creep up the prince’s lips.

- Of course it is yours, you silly! And about how... Well I guess you know how this happened. - Y/N snickered, making JungKook blush intensily as he came out of his stupor with a wide smile. Yoona chuckled by his side. - And well, I failed to tell you that last night I was already on this condition, but I’ll explain that later. - she wiped a tear of her eyes, sniffing.

- Yes, tell me everything later. There’s something I need to do first. - JungKook gravely whispered, and smoothly took a step forward, face suddenly serious. Taking her face between his hands, he looked straight into her eyes, finally convincing himself it wasn’t a dream. - I’m finally by your side again, my love. - and leaning, captured her lips in a long-due passionate kiss, as all the people around them cheered.

They were all sat on the Queen’s private room, JungKook catching up on all he had lost while he was away. He didn’t liked to hear that Taehyung was to propose to Y/N if the whole tale thing about Y/N didn’t confirmed itself, but brushed it off as soon as Y/N grabbed his hand and showed him how the baby moved inside of her.

- I’m amazed at how many times JungKook was close to crying in two hours. That ought to be a new record! - Hoseok joked, as the prince sniffed and swallowed the always-present lump on his throat while thought again that he was to be a father.

- Shut up, I’m happy. - he pushed his second in command playfully, smiling as he pulled Y/N against him for the millionth time. Y/N chuckled, leaning on his body happily. She too felt over the moon, pushing away for some moments the next issue in hand.

- Well and I hope we can make your happiness permanent then, but we still have some things to overcome, our Majesties. - Hyungwoon, the most quiet one so far, sassed, and Y/N was about to joke with him to not be so mean, but then she noticed how he wasn’t looking at her, rather than out of the window, a serious expression on his face. The others noticed too, getting up and going to look closer at it.

- Did the guard fired the pit? - Wonho asked to no one in special, but Shownu nodded beside him, nonetheless.

- My archers also lit up the lanterns. The threat must be on the limit of the woods. We should start moving already, didn’t expect them to get here so soon. - Shownu said, turning to Jooheon. - I need you to warn the rest of the troops, we’re going to assemble the barricades sooner than expected. - he commanded, and Y/N tensed beside JungKook, also impressed on how soon her persecuters came.

- We were hoping they would arrive closer to the night, but at least we were waiting for them already, so don’t worry, Majesty. - Kihyun turned to look at the woman with scared eyes, smiling softly at her.

- The prospect in my vision is better than I expected, to be honest. I didn’t thought Y/N would have a whole army to protect her. - JungKook commented, and Wonho, which was walking past them to help with the plan they had, stopped to look at him, with a soft grin towards JungKook.

- We had to keep the kingdom safe and sound for our Queen, so of course we had been prepared. - he said, looking at Y/N and for the surprise of both of them - and JungKook’s knights - he kneeled, grabbing Y/N’s hand, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles. - As your knight, I’m here to fight and die for you, my Queen. - he stated, and Y/N chuckled, embarrassed by his actions, but still finding it endearing. JungKook on the other side had his eyes as big as plates, nostrils flared with anger, and mostly jealousy.

- Don’t really die, thought. I hope we can resolve this without having to fight. - Y/N said, looking up at JungKook, which threw daggers at the knight that stood.

- Yeah, mainly the part about the marriage. I need to have their marriage canceled, can’t live with the idea of having my baby sister married to this guy. No offense thought, Y/N. - Yoongi said, and she turned to look at the spy, shaking her head, telling him no offense were taken. Yoona, on the other side of the room, complained about the nickname, throwing a pillow at his brother.

- Ah, there’s that too. It will be pretty easy to null it if both of the parts agree, and if there’s no pregnancy. Otherwise, it gets a little more difficult. But I don’t think that’s the case, right? - Minhyuk said, and Yoongi squinted his eyes at JungKook.

- No, he knows I’d kill him if he ever touched my sister. - he threatened, and JungKook scoffed.

- Because I’m in love with Y/N, which is the main reason. And really Yoongi, she looks just like you, it would creep me out a whole deal. - he mocked, and was hit with another pillow from Yoona. Y/N giggled, looking at the girl, only then noticing how similar Yoongi and her were. Almost twins, wasn’t for the age difference. I wonder how old is she?

- Either way, it’s better if we get that annulment soon, to avoid any unnecessary comfrontations. - Hoseok interjected, sighing as he pointedly glanced at Wonho’s leaving figure. Y/N frowned, not really understanding what he meant.

They were ushered to a safe room by Changkyung, where the Jeon knights locked doors and covered windows, leaving just one uncovered so they could observe the events outside.

- Everything’s going to be okay love, don’t worry too much about it. - JungKook tried to ease Y/N as she already shook, without even noticing. She looked up at him, smiling weakly.

- I hope so... Being a scaredy cat like that makes me thing I’m not suited to be a Queen at all, JungKook. - she confessed, and the prince just held her close, shaking his head.

- That’s not true. No one is born suited to be a King or a Queen. And you’ve been one for such a little while that no one expects you to know what you’re doing yet. - he comforted her, kissing the top of her head.

- Besides you have done a great job not freaking out. And not to mention you’re pregnant! I don’t know how you haven’t asked your troops to just shoot them all away. - Jimin tried to joke, to which Y/N actually chuckled.

Feeling reassured for a while, they started to chat, Yoongi by the window observing, since he wasn’t feeling so chatty anymore. Y/N mostly listened as the others talked, even laughing when they told a crude joke and teased Yoona - which Y/N noticed had a little of a preference towards Jimin and that he seemed to be the same -, which she took a liking even if the girl still stood as JungKook’s wife.

Outside, it didn’t looked like there was much tension. But the knights were impressed to hear from Yoongi that the troops walking towards them - using the river as a way inside, till the barricade near the castle - were actually Jeon’ officials, but no more than a thousand, and it looked like the king himself had came with his wife, but he wasn’t on sight yet.

- I should go talk to him then. He’ll listen to me, even if he’s angry. Mother thought... - JungKook trailed off thoughtfully, and Y/N sat straight, clutching her lover’s arm.

- No please don’t. I have a bad feeling about this, don’t go there, they... She will snatch you away from me again. - she pleaded with prickling eyes, making JungKook frown, taking Y/N’s face between his hands.

- My love, no one’s ever going to drive me away from you, not now or never. - he stated, pressing his lips against hers.

- Yes, the prince isn’t going outside in any way. We have the meeting room for that, my Queen. - Seokjin complemented. Y/N nodded quietly, getting up to look outside the window, where the front of the soldiers - and the knights - were, and to where the Jeon army walked, rather calmly, the car bringing the King heavily surrounded by guards. Where the knights, including JungKook, should have been.

- What’s happening, Yoongi? - Y/N asked, the spy beside her sighing while JungKook’s hands wrapped around her figure, already missing her warmth.

- The King will demand to talk to the ruler of this land. But, since you’re on this condition, we’ll have to send someone to speak on your behalf. Won’t be JungKook, but needs to be one of us. - he explained, and she nodded quietly.

- I’ll go then. I’m the second in command of the knights, and I have a voice with the King. - Hoseok proposed, but Yoongi shook his head no.

- We need to bring the King alone here. Something is kind of fishy, and I’m not sure what Queen Fae can do. We don’t want the soldiers invading this at their own will after all. - Yoongi continued, eyes still trained on the scenario in front of him. Y/N also observed with a fleeting heart as the knights of her kingdom put on their helmets, as soon as the front of the soldiers of Jeon got too close for comfort. The scene developed itself slowly, but in a way that was too fast still. The King walked down with his wife trailing behind him, going towards Shownu, probably thinking he was the King or something, due to his way of carrying himself.

- Then I’ll go. I’m good with persuasion, surely the King will listen to me. - Namjoon proposed, getting up from his seat. - I have everything I have to explain to him right here in my head, I know the laws, I’m sure that in no time we’ll be resolving this without much issues. - he said, and Y/N turned in time to see his soft dimpled smile, and nodded at him.

- Hm, that might be a good idea. Seokjin, you must go too. crack some jokes, try to drive the Queen’s attention away while Namjoon speaks. - Hoseok instructed. Seokjin put himself on his feet too, and they walked out of the room, after curtly nodding at the knight.

- My Queen, you must sit for a bit, it’s not good for you to be standing for so long... - Mia - that was already there when they were directed to that room - asked, walking towards her.

- No, don’t worry dear I’m perfectly fine. I need to keep an eye on this. - she said, ignoring the pang of pain that rushed through her body for the third time in ten minutes, brushing it off as nothing. There’s still one month to go, so this should be normal. She sighed, clutching JungKook’s hand on her belly.

But it wasn’t.

JungKook was humming absentmindedly some tune on Y/N’s ear to distract her when Y/N’s knees gave away, soaring pain ripping on her insides, and a sudden stream of water running between her legs, incontrolably. She wailed, panicked, and everyone was stunned in place for a second, even JungKook, which barely had time to hold her firmly so she wouldn’t hit the floor.

- Y/N! What is going on? - he shouted, as she desperately held her belly, gasping for air as the pain came in waves at her.

- My w-water broke I’m... My baby - she stared at JungKook’s eyes, as Mia reached her, kneeling beside her body.

- The Queen’s in labor, we need to take her Majesty to the chamber and call a medic! - Mia looked around, and only then the rest seemed to regain life, ushering to open the doors, Taehyung, Jimin and Yoona running outside quickly to fetch a doctor, JungKook, Hoseok and Yoongi carrying Y/N, which contorted in pain.

- Queen, I know it hurts, but you have to keep your eyes open, the doctor is going to be here in a second. - Mia said as she her her Queen’s hand, while Y/N gasped for air hopelessly.

- Save my baby please, my little Majesty, I just need you to save him - she chanted, eyes almost fluttering shut. JungKook barked at the others to move faster, desperate with the weakness of Y/N’s voice. I’m not losing her again.

It’s been hours already. JungKook sighed exasperated, walking from side to side at Y/N’s room door, squeezing his eyes shut everytime she screamed in pain.

Namjoon talked with my father but apparently there’s no use, they want to see Y/N and discuss personally with her about his whole ordeal, but she has no conditions to. I know my mother should be poisoning my father’s ears right at this moment so they will make it difficult once they talk to her. Maybe I should go and speak to them, while they’re still on the meeting room... He questioned himself, hands grabbing at his face.

- It’s going to take a while, the doctor said. We can only wait now. What’s the situation down there? - Yoona asked, walking out of the Queen’s room.

- Chaotic, my father wants to speak with Y/N. He doesn’t seem to know she’s carrying my baby and I’m considering going downstairs to talk to him. What about Y/N? - he asked, and Yoona bit her lower lip, debating what to say to the prince.

- Well it’s a bloodbath to be honest. But the doctor is kind of experient, said he’d seen much worse and that everything ought to run smoothly. The labor was rushed because of the stress she has been on, but most certainly she’ll be fine. About what you said... - she trailed off, sighing tiredly. She could not be as smart as Namjoon for that matter, but still I think you should present the truth to him as it is. I mean, there’s a heir to both of the kingdom’s here and well... If you’re to marry with Y/N, you should become King, isn’t it? - she stated, and JungKook nodded, the matters on the back of his ming at that moment.

- What I’m going at is that you have to appeal like a son to him very little right now. But like a politician and a prince he will surely listen and abide to your deal. Sounds impersonal, but that’s the only way you can make the King ignore any word the Queen could have said to him already. - Yoona finished, and JungKook stood looking surprised at her face. She’s as genious as her brother.

- Will do then. I just need a moment to recollect myself then. - he muttered, ad the princess nod, smiling brightly at him.

- Okay then, I’ll be going back in. Luck, my prince. - she wished, winking at JungKook, before turning around and entering the room again. Before she could close the door, he saw Y/N’s face, as she cried, and his heart clenched.

Walking with all the confidence he could muster, he pushed the door of the meeting room, startling the ones inside. The knights looked alarmed, because they had told the prince to not go meet them under any circumstances, but he couldn’t help himself anymore, he needed to do something. I spent too much time depending on the decisions of others. It’s time I make my own destiny.

- Son, you finally decided to meet us huh? Very honorable of you. - the sarcasm in his father’s voice made JungKook wince, but he walked towards the man sat at the head of the table, comfortably like he owned the place.

- My King, I’m sorry for the delay. - he kneeled, bowing his head to his father in respect, and it surprised the receiver of the measure. - Queen. - JungKook complimented, pointedly looking at his mother, which looked at him with an unreadable expression.

- Why are you acting like this, JungKook? And what possibly could have made you so late to meet us? - the King asked as the prince got up, shaking his head.

- I’m acting like I should have acted a long time ago, father. And I was caught up upstairs, wanting to know the status of Queen Y/N, which is giving labor to my child. - he said, and it took some seconds for the King to process what his son had just said. Around him, the knights tensed up, noticing the increasing redness on their King’s face.

- See what I have told you, my King?Queen Y/N? We should just kill everyone on this land. All lies, JungKook’s child? Nonsense. By the way, where’s Yoona? - the Queen scoffed, and it took everything JungKook had to maintain his expression serious. I won’t let my mother make me loose my cool, not when we got so far already. He thought, ignoring Fae’s question.

- I demand to speak to that Queen. Who else knew about this? - the King spoke in a calm tone, even if his nostrils flared angered, and he had clutched the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white.

- Unfortunately, as the prince said, Queen Y/N is in labor, and unable to debate with my lord. Princess Yoona is also by her side, helping her deliver. - Taehyung stepped up, bowing as he spoke. - I was aware of that matter, it was on my old family’s shack the Queen hid after she ran from the castle. - he admitted, and the King slowly turned his gaze towards him, breathing out hard.

- You understand that what you’ve done can be considered treason, son? Yet you still confessed it to me? - the King stated, and the archer, still with his head down, nodded.

- You should be executed right here, by my husband’s hands. Helping the mother of a bastard hide from royal punishment... And yet you call yourself a knight. - Fae said, getting up to place a hand on her husband’s shoulder, as Taehyung flinched. JungKook was about to snap, realizing that her killing intentions where throught the roof, and she didn’t thought about stopping after murdering everyone who stood in front of her. Is my mother’s hatred so great for such futile matter?

- Quiet woman! - the King was the one to say it, wiping her hand off his shoulder and getting up, his cool for a first time lost. - You’ve done enought suggestions on your own. I’m the King here. - he turned to look down at the Queen, a hard stare that made Fae bow her head, startled.

- Now I want to know how this happened. When exactly, to be more precise. - JungKook’s father asked with regained calm, and the prince nodded, stepping forward.

- I had an affair with Y/N on the time she worked on the castle, as a maid. At the time I didn’t knew she was Queen, neither that she was with my child. It was eight to nine months ago, my King. - he spoke with tranquility, and the King nodded slowly.

- And how exactly a maid from Jeon turned into Queen? - he inquired, and this time, Yoongi was the one to step up beside the prince.

- Well King, she didn’t turned into a Queen, as Y/N always has been a Queen. Even your honorable wife knew that, being the one to give shelter to her and Queen Gabrielle’s sister on the occasion of the murder of the latter. - the spy explained, and the surprise on the King’s face was practically comic. More yet, the shock on Fae’s face was priceless. She opened her mouth to explain, but then Hoseok jumped up, interrupting her attempt.

- Yes, your Queen knew the origins of Y/N, about the affair the prince had, and also about her pregnancy. She was the one to order me to arrest her for treason, on the night of JungKook’s engagement. - he accused, and the King squinted, turning to the woman, which started to look furious, like an animal cornered.

- That woman should pay! Her mother stole William from me, and then she stole my son! This Queen of nothing should have remained to rot in Jeon, never knowing she had a better life, and I was about to make sure of that. - Fae growled, turning finally into the mad woman she was inside. The King only observed his crazed wife, and sighed, asking her to be retired from the room, which Seokjin helped.

- The sole reaction of this woman confirm your words, son. I knew about the rumors of Fae before I married her, that she had a love rival of another kingdom, for another King, but brushed it off because it really didn’t mattered after we got married. I thought your mother had forgot the issue, but seems like it corrupted her insides for this long. - the ruler of Jeon shook his head, scoffing. Turning to the other two remaining knights, he quirked an eyebrow at them. - I take that you two also knew about this, huh? Were you two preparing your arguments? - he asked, and Namjoon shrugged, saying that he had already admitted knowing all about that when they first talked.

- I’m your son’s best friend, Majesty. I knew a little more than he did, but I did knew. - Jimin sheepishly said, throwing a cute smile at his King, which snickered amused.

- I take it then you all are more loyal to my son than to me. I could be really mad at that, but... All I can think is how JungKook look like a King right about now. - he sighed, patting his son’s shoulder, which visibly relaxed.

- Still, there are two things left for me to say. - the King continued, looking at JungKook with a serious expression. - Politically speaking, this travel costed me much, because I took my time to travel through the country by Fae’s request, to fetch you and your wife since she said you had been kidnapped. So I needed to make a deal with the Queen here, to stifle any impending scandal. But since she’s unable to converse right about now, I’ll make a proposal: If the child she’s giving birth right now is a boy, I won’t even bat an eye before leaving. If not, then we’ll have to stay a little longer. - he proposed, and JungKook wanted to debate that, but then he reminded something important.

- I understand your demand, father, but I wish to add something to your proposal, which can be also of your pleasurement. If our baby is a male, then your Majesty leaves, but not before nulling my marriage with Yoona, so I can marry Queen Y/N, and also become King. - the prince countered, and added:

- Which will mean you’ll have a heir to your kingdom and a King with your blood on another one, and with the right arrangements, the unity of the lands can be done. - JungKook tried to contain a smile as he looked at the pleased expression of his father, eyes twinkling discreetly at the possibilities.

- Well done, my son. I’ll be then looking forward to fulfill your requests. But are you sure this can be done? The princess is aware of that, or even more, you two have conditions to null this arrangement? - he asked, but before JungKook could even say anything, someone snickered.

- My King, your son hasn’t laid a pinky on me, and I’m not offended by it at all. In fact, one could say I’m pretty much relieved. And yes, I completely agree with that, and can confidently say that my Lord should start moving their army, because the Queen had just given birth to Reya... And Kyan. - the woman announced proudly, pushing the hair glued to her sweaty forehead, with a bright smile.

The second JungKook heard about Y/N giving birth, he forgot about composure, forgot about everything, and just sprinted outside the room, running quickly to meet the love of his love and his two babies.

Y/N cried as she finally held her two babies on her arms, hearing them wail hungrily and healthily, as the doctor had put it. On the back of her mind she was worried about the events outside the castle, wondering what was going on and if something bad had happened. I took five hours to deliver, after all. But the thing she worried the most was about JungKook. Where he was, if he was safe, if he’d get the message that she had given birth to their children.

- Y/N! You... Oh my lord... - the door to her chambers opened with a bang, and the most desperate JungKook ever rushed inside, taking in the scene of the two bundles cradled on each arm on the mother of his children. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his shook expression, thinking on how that was mindblowing for him, since he had discovered he was to be a father just that day.

- Come meet your daughter and your son, my prince. - she weakly called, and JungKook didn’t even tried to supress his tears as he approached the three of them, taking one of the babies in his arms.

- Our children, Y/N. Two strong beautiful b-babies... - he stammered as the tears streamed down his cheeks, and he sat beside Y/N on the bloody bed, not even minding to ruin his clothes. Nothing ever minded anymore.

- Well, that’s really a surprise. We’ll have to find an extra kingdom for one of them to rule. - the presence of Jeon’s King made everyone surprised, and he laughed as he noticed Y/N clutched the child on her arms closer, and lifted his hands in surrender. - Don’t worry, I’m not here to take them away, or cause you any harm. - he eased them, but Y/N still didn’t trusted the King. Not yet, anyways.

- Whoa, Jungkook knocked you hard, didn’t he? - Seokjin commented, as the knights entered the room too. Noticing the presence of the King, the others slapped and punched his arms, stiffling their laughs.

- He’s my son, what did you all expected? - the King barked a laugh, walking slowly towards the couple. - Well son, as I had promised, I’ll leave this kingdom alone. And your conditions are accepted, by the way. I’ll send a messenger here to carry on the deal, since you’ve already stole my knights... But oh what to do. - the King snickered, and Y/N frowned, not really understanding what did he meant. A deal? What deal? She looked at JungKook, which smiled brightly at his father. Him, noticing Y/N’s stare, kissed her tample, saying that everything would be explained later, but that at the moment, they could breathe in peace.

- My wife will be put on her place, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t disturb the two of you anymore. - the King complemented, softly placing his hands over each one of the bundles of sleeping babies. Y/N felt a sort of endearment, noticing the expression on the Majesty’s eyes. Just like a grandfather seeing their grandsons.

- That is, if you will take me as your husband of course. - JungKook quipped, and Y/N snickered, brought out of her thoughts.

- Since you knocked me up, marrying me is the least you could do, don’t you think? - she countered, making JungKook blush slightly. - Besides, I think this country could use a King like you. - she finished, tilting her head to stare at his eyes, warmth filling her heart. His angelic smile was now towards her, and Y/N snickered as she noticed he was crying again, but didn’t commented on the matter, letting him just close the distance between their faces.

- Okay, I guess it’s time we leave them in privacy. They have a lot to talk about, and well, the babies need to be fed at one point. - Jimin cleared his throat - they all were feeling emotional - starting to push all of the people inside. Y/N and JungKook chuckled against each other’s lips, not really bothering to separate, since they were going to leave anyways.

- I to be honest, I can’t wait to make another baby with you, my Queen. - JungKook whispered on her ear, and Y/N giggled slapping his arm playfully as the King closed the door behind himself.

- Well if you do, make sure this time you don’t miss a thing, okay? - Y/N quipped, and scoffing JungKook nodded, leaning in to kiss her again.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x you #HIDDEN MAJESTY FC #BTS jungkook #prince!jungkook #prince!au #bts knights #monsta x #monsta x fluff #monsta x fic #monsta x crossover #bts x monsta x crossover #bts jeon #bts jeon jungkook

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saintsnsinnersbdb · 4 years

Text

Angels and Demons: The End of the Beginning Part 3

Written by @Lassiter_SASBDB.

https://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1srd6dm

“Bitch, we need to talk”. As I shove her back and kick the door shut the words echo in the cavernous hall. The old three-story former warehouse might meet the Historic Society’s requirements on the outside, but the inside is pure 21st century. The entryway ceiling uses all those three stories, the floors done in large, glossy marble tiles in shades of cream and golden brown and the walls tastefully echoing the cream in the tiles. Somewhere behind her hanging stairs went up to the second and third floors, glass railing opening them to the sumptuous living room behind the curvy, black-haired image the demon in front of me projected. Devina always /had/ liked the best money could buy. And she bought plenty. Quickly, she masks her initial shock at seeing me earth walking again and settles her beautiful -fake- features into a sultry sneer as she catches herself against the wall. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my angel boy-toy back from the dead. And,” her discerning black eyes narrow as she looks at me, “It looks like you’ve gotten an upgrade. Not just an angel anymore are you Lass? But deity-level? Really? After the way you FAILED the Creator? What, do you have blackmail on him or something?” Rage, hate, and, yes, I can own it, even pain burble inside me like molten ore and I want nothing so much as to level this whole damned place with her in it. Once-upon-a-time I would have. When I was a younger, less-experienced angel who let a demon’s glamour fool him into believing she was something else. But not now. Yes, I CAN be taught. I intend to kill her but not level the whole block doing it. Besides, the feel of my hands around her neck might just be cathartic. “Shut your mouth cunt unless you’re asked a question. And I have a few. The answers you give me might make a difference.” In whether she dies easy or hard. But let her have hope. ‘You think you can hurt me? Didn’t work out so well for you last time did it angel-boy?” she hisses the words at me before changing her tactics and assuming that soft, gentle façade that had once persuaded me she was a fallen angel who had been unjustly treated. “Don’t be like that baby. I was just doing what I had to.” Her mouth goes into a pout as she gives me big sad puppy eyes. “You have no idea how competitive Hell is. And the price of failure…” she shudders “is just too awful.” She slinks up to me and lays her hand on my chest as she looks up at me, the fake tears she can call up at will brimming in her eyes. “I really /did/ love you Lass, but I had no choice. You see that don’t you?” She’s like a fucking cobra, using her eyes and voice to mesmerize her prey before she strikes. That voice is loaded with magical coercion and she’s pressing her body against me, giving me the impression of soft breasts pressing against my body. Her fingertips trail lightly down my chest towards my belt buckle and I know exactly where she’s going with this. Grabbing her hand, I shove her back. “Not this time Devina. I see you now. You females are always saying men don’t really “see them” but I see you. I see what your evil soul looks like. I see your true face. I smell the stink of rotten meat and sulfur you give off. Nothing you do can make you beautiful. Your sex is nothing but a hellhole you use to damn the naïve.” Her beautiful face and body fade away for an instant as the truth of my words hit home. For a moment she’s nothing but melted flesh slowly oozing off a skeleton, the flashing black eyes empty sockets, the luxurious hair and body gone. And then she’s back. She’s too vain to let the glamour go for long. “You’re going to regret that Lassiter,” She growls as she lunges for me, a silver knife appearing in her hand. “Breaking the rules now?” Easily, I avoid her, grabbing her wrist and squeezing it until bones crack and she drops the blade. “Manifesting weapons is prohibited here and you know it. We’re to use what the mortals use when we fight.” She growls up at me through gritted teeth, “Rules are for fools! And if I was at full strength we’d just see who was better.” I gotta raise an eyebrow at that. She’s just admitted weakness, but why wasn’t she at full strength? Still, all the easier to kill her. As I release her wrist with one hand, I grab her around the neck with my other tightening it enough to lift her off the floor. I can feel the magick begin to stir again. She’s trying to materialize another weapon. With my free hand, I draw a dagger from beneath the black leather coat – exactly why I wore it in this heat. I might sweat like a hooker trying to short her pimp in this heat, but it conceals weapons like a boss. Pressing it against her gut hard enough to draw a few drops of blood I snarl, “Not today bitch. I can play by the rules and still wipe the floor with your ass. Now you’re going to answer some questions. Why are you here in Caldwell?” She gasps as though she can’t breathe but I’m not squeezing that hard -yet-. “Like I’d tell you!” I don’t alter my grip but I press the dagger a little deeper. Her eyes widen as she feels the drip of blood increase to a trickle down her abdomen. “You might wanna reconsider that answer.” “R and R!” It comes out a gasp. “Really,” I answer skeptically. “You picked good old Caldwell, NY for a little vacay. Not someplace sandy and sunny. No Rodeo Drive here. No Fifth Avenue. Good old humid-in-the-summer-no-beach-no-exclusive-shopping-district-Caldwell.” It doesn’t add up. She only shows up where she can cause disaster. My grip on her throat tightens as a cold resolve runs through me. I /will/not/have her laying her dirty claws on the Brothers or the race in general. The Creator made me their fucking deity and I /will/ protect them from this bitch! “Let’s try it again. Why. Are. You. Here. She only gasps a whimper this time. And then it happens. I’m suddenly aware that the subtle background buzz of street noise has stopped. Devina isn’t struggling anymore but her eyes are frozen open in real fear. And then I don’t see anything but white light on another plane and the only noise I hear is the Creator’s voice. ‘You must not kill her Lassiter. She has a purpose here.’ Mentally I begin swearing but keeping it mental doesn’t keep Him from hearing it, because, damn it, He’s in my head. “But why? Doesn’t the race have enough to deal with in the Omega without this demon causing shit? Why can’t she go stir up trouble in, oh, I don’t know, maybe the Gobi desert? Someplace where there are more scorpions than people!” I can hear His sigh and yeah, here it comes, another Deity-teaching-moment. ‘All beings have a destiny, Lassiter. Mortals, demons, angels, even deities. To a certain point, it is self-determining in that their choices guide the path they take and the destination they reach. I do not interfere in how they make their choices or the repercussions of them. Free will is necessary for souls to learn and evolve. Someone else made a series of bad choices and a repercussion of that is why Devina is free.’ Ok, I’m slow some days, but not THAT slow… “What do you mean “is free”? She wasn’t free and now she is? You let her go? What?!!!” ‘Devina lost her last battle. It was to have been the final conflict between angels and demons for humanity but,” and I can feel His mental shrug “Free will freed her again. And in this case that free will was exercised by a vampire, so I cannot promise you it will not turn her attention to the species when she is able.’ I remain quiet while I digest this, finally pouncing on the last word. “What’s that mean, “when she is able”? She’s not able to cause havoc right now? Because I can feel her magick and she can still glamour.” ‘The essence of evil is unchanged in her, but her ability to use it without assistance from mortal souls was greatly weakened. Caldwell was the site of her loss and the site from which she was recalled. She has not the power to move from this location at present let alone cause mass casualties, but she /is/ seeking to rebuild it. Eventually, she will succeed. However, you /could/ delay the inevitable.” “How…” my mental voice trails off as realization strikes. “The guy she trolled home last night. Not her first since she’s been back, is it? She’s building a well of souls and is strengthening from it isn’t she?” ‘And now you begin to understand. Yes, she is. By forcing her to free them, you will put her back at square one.’ The approval in His voice is warming, even if it’s not something I’m particularly after right now since I’m pissed He let her get out to begin with. ‘You cannot restore their mortal lives to them. Those, they lost as a result of those choices I mentioned before. But none were truly evil and the souls can be released to move on. You are forbidden to kill her or to interfere in the consequences of the choices the mortals she seduces make. But you can continue to force her to free the souls for so long as you can find her. This,’ a touch of humor enters His voice, ‘will no doubt now become more difficult. It is nearly inevitable she will eventually reach her former strength, but delaying it as long as you can is within your mandate of protecting the species. Now, son, do we have an understanding?’ Sighing myself, because I had SO been looking forward to ganking this bitch, I answer. “We do.” ‘You have done a fine job since Annalise stepped down. I must admit, I questioned her choice at first, but she chose well. You are what the vampire race needs now. Her areas of weakness are your strengths. You have made me proud of both of you. Do not change that.’ I bow my head for a moment at the combination backhanded compliment and threat before answering. “I’ll do my best. For the first time in my existence, I love something enough to die to protect it.” He answers me kindly, ‘You have always had that within you son. It’s just that only now do you have the judgement to do so intelligently.’ And just as suddenly I’m back. The background noise resumes. Devina’s squirming and gasping under my grasp. Fuck, even the smell of her smacks me in the face again. Ruthlessly, I increase the pressure on her throat “Next question. What happened to the guy you brought home last night. And the night before that. And before that. And etc.… And don’t fucking tell me ‘nothing’ because I know damned well they’re dead. Where are their souls?” It comes out a gasping growl… “They CHOSE to come with me! They’re mine!” “No.They.Aren’t.” I push the dagger in another half inch. The trickle that had almost slowed around the blade tip becomes a flow and she groans. “I want them Devina. Either you free them now and I let you go or I kill you now and I’ll find them all and they’ll go free anyway. Up to you. I’d really like to kill you but I’d rather not spend the time looking for your stash. So cough ‘em up or I’ll leave you bleeding out on the floor like you did me 800 years ago.” An anguished scream escapes her throat as I loosen my grip a little and then the magick happens. From all through the house, all around us translucent forms appear. What had initially registered in my brain as grotesque objects d’art became blank canvases or puddles of molten bronze on the floor. Stone sculptures fell into pebbles. More and more joined the ones around us, some floating down from the upper levels, some rising through the floor from what must be a chamber of horrors in a basement. As they mill around in confusion and distress, rheapers appear to guide them, often offering words of comfort. That’s their job, mostly, and after meeting Wellsie and her young in the in-between, it’s one I don’t envy them. The few I’d ever talked to told me they got a lot of satisfaction from protecting and helping confused souls find their way but still, it’s a tough gig. One rheaper in particular casts a look of grim disgust at Devina and puts his hand on the sword at his waist, but I shake my head. If she’s not for me, she’s not for you either, I mentally tell him. He heaves a disgruntled sigh and turns from us to assist the others and then, as quickly as they’d come forth, all are gone. “They don’t like you much, do they?” I ask mildly. “Kind of makes me like the guys. I’d always thought rheapers were kind of creepy but I guess we all have a purpose.” She’s weaker already, struggling so much at maintaining her glamour that she’s stopped resisting, putting all her energy into it. I pull the dagger out and resheath it, then lower her back to the ground and let her go. She drops to her knees, her hand pressing the outside of the black silk robe she wore to the wound I’d left in her stomach. “You’re going to pay for this Lassiter!” “Don’t be a drama llama. That little jab will heal in no time. Not as quick as it would if you still had major mojo, but unfortunately there’s power in innate evil, so you’ll be fine in a few hours. But you might want to wear a scarf if you go out this morning to cover those bruises on your neck. Or you could just say you like it rough,” shrugging. But whateves’, it’s not my problem.” “I’ll go to the police. I’ll describe you, tell them you broke in and attacked me! Look at you! You’re hard to miss and there are cameras everywhere!” And now I gotta laugh. “Please, bitch. That’s all you got? Are you THAT weak without mortal souls to feed on? You must have gotten one Hell of a right cross to the mojo. We both know you don’t have any security cameras on this place and that you’ve fritzed every single one on this street and the main drag so there’s no record of you bringing your victims here. But even if there were…” raises my hand and snaps my fingers” It’s all gone, just like that. Every camera in a 10-block radius just lost the last 24 hours. She throws her head back and howls in rage at me from the floor as I lean back against the door with my arms crossed. Finally, she drops her head back and glares at me, panting heavily. “All done there? Good. One more thing.” Pushing off from the door, I let my massive wings appear and unfold. “I’m going to be watching you Devina. We aren’t done yet.” Without bothering to open the door I spread my wings and shimmer up and out, still angry at the fact I have to leave her breathing. Rematerializing high in the sky above Caldwell I expand my wings fully and hover for a moment. I could go back to the manse, but I feel dirty just having been in Devina’s presence. Too dirty to be around people I care about. It’s daylight. Nobody will miss me and there’s a waterfall high in the Andes that’s calling my name. Maybe it will wash away the filth. Fucking Devina.

#AngelsAndDemons #TheEndOfTheBeginning #PartThree #TBC #SaintsNSinners #BDB #SASBDB

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sowk-fic-archive · 7 years

Text

SOWK ch.21/35

Summary:

Matthew and Dominic both reacquaint themselves with faith...

Chapter 21 : foi

“Keep his arms tucked into his sides, Theodore.”

“I’m trying, Nathaniel, but he’s not a very deep sleeper, he keeps wriggling.”

“I’d ask the guy up front to give him another dose but he... he creeps me out,” Nathaniel whispered, the two men falling silent to hear the eerie whistling descend over their small party once again. The night was foggy and they were struggling to see two metres in front of them as they carried the body through the streets.

The unnamed Voix who had administered the sedative was walking in front of them, just a silhouette to the darkness surrounding them on all sides. He had been whistling even as he had carried the sleeping body out of the Bellamy mansion singlehandedly.

“Watch it,” Theodore hissed as Nathaniel stumbled on a cobble in the street.

“Ta geule,” Nathaniel spat in return.

“No, you shut up! I’m sick of you constantly--”

Theodore stopped talking as the man ahead of them stopped whistling. He turned around slowly, only the lower half of his face visible under the large hood of his ceremonial cloak. “Will you both be quiet?” he said slowly, the question deliberate and powerful. Two pale hands emerged from the sleeves of the robe and peeled back the hood, revealing shining golden hair.

Nathaniel and Theodore almost dropped the body in their shock at seeing an Ancien before them. “Yes, sir,” Nathaniel stammered. “Sorry, sir.”

Paix nodded slightly in recognition. “Come,” he said, turning around to face a large looming building. “We’ve arrived.”

Matthew wasn’t quite sure whether he was awake or dreaming.

“Is he in his chambers?” Joie asked, looking nothing like the Ancien she was in a deep black cloak.

“Yes, and is Adora?”

Joie nodded at her brother. “Out like a light, she sleeps deeply.”

“Unlike Matthew.”

There was silence between the siblings until Joie spoke up once more.

“Paix... I have the feeling this Cachant will take a long time,” she admitted quietly.

“I agree,” Paix said, solemnly, “they need to develop, moreso than some of our previous Uniques... but they have six weeks until Hope and Glory arrive.” There was a pause. “I believe it will take...”

Matthew couldn’t hear any more as the voices faded; whether they were walking away in his dream or whether he fell asleep again, he would never know.

Matthew had never been so frightened, or so amazed, in his life.

The room he was in was so large that it shouldn’t have been called a room, and this was in the eyes of a man who had lived in a mansion all his life. It was almost pyramid-shaped; the four walls sloped upwards slightly to where the point would be, but instead it had been cut off and it was an open-air atrium. Light spilled down from the opening onto the terracotta tiles at Matthew’s bare feet, casting a square of sunlight nearly in the centre of the room.

The room, Matthew finally noticed, was incredibly dark. He was used to white furnishings, or creams or pastel colours at a push. Everything was black and red except for the pristine white robes he’d been dressed in. The bed covers he was wrapped in were a dark red, the lone table and chair were made of a dark wood and the two doors at opposite ends of the room were dark also. Matthew was curious as to what lay either side of them, but not curious enough to want to move.

Experimentally flexing his fingers, he stared up at the ceiling and through to the clear blue sky. He was comfortably warm and content; his skin felt soft and clean, and he could have easily stayed where he was until the sky darkened to black and the stars began to creep out from behind the veil of daylight.

Eventually, and after at least half an hour of simply looking, he stood up and carefully walked across to one of the doors. It opened at the lightest touch. Inquisitively, he peered into the room. It was a large, cavernous place, similar in size to the room he had just left. Without the sound-absorbing furniture, however, his footsteps echoed as he walked inside. It was bare, except for a rack of dark, fluffy towels and a large, square bath tiled in black. It had been set into the floor, rather than raised out of it. He curiously dipped a toe into the water. It was warm.

Turning back into the furnished room, he closed the door to the bath and made an immediate beeline for the other door. This one, however, was locked, and didn’t even have a handle. He pushed with all his might, but could find no way of opening it. Giving it up as a lost cause, he sat down on the bed again, staring over at the locked door and wondering. There was something symbolic about it, in that he would need someone from outside to open it and--

“Oh,” he whispered in awe.

The realisation hit him like a wave, knocking the breath from his lungs. He had been placidly accepting this reality for it had been so utterly dreamlike - the bath, the bed, the pyramid room - but now it had become so sudden and real. He was in Cachant, and he was going to become a Unique.

Running a hand over his face, he sucked in a deep breath and shook his head. “Oh my God,” he mumbled. “Quelle horreur.”

He lay back on the bed, turning to the side and, for the first time, noticing the letter addressed in perfect cursive with his name. He grabbed it, ripping it open with speed, his stomach clenching in anticipation as he read.

Dear Matthew,

As you have probably realised, you are now in Cachant, and so you will remain until you are ready. It is very important that we make clear to you now that it is not possible to determine when you will leave. You will, of course, be aware that some Uniques take only days, and it has also been known to take years. My brother and I have our speculations, but we shall not divulge anything - how shall you keep track of time with only the sun and the stars as your guides?

The ceremonial aspects of Cachant are of course very secret and only my brother and I, and any past, present and future Uniques will ever know the true happenings of this process. The building you are in has been specially designed to withhold your reflection from you so that you will never know when - and, indeed, if - you are ready to leave. This building has been used for centuries, and it is with the utmost respect and reverence that you should treat it - but of course, you know this better than most.

The bath, too, is a key part of this process, and one which you should not treat lightly. Each day, you must immerse yourself completely in the water, washing away all impurities and making yourself clean. Concentrating on your hair is important, as it is the only thing that will determine you as a Unique.

As well as your body being pure, your mind and soul must also be immaculate. In order to keep your love for Adora focused and unspoiled, it is highly suggested that you refrain from indulging yourself; it would be uncouth to do so in such a temple to our heritage.

We wait for the outcome of this Cachant with anticipation. God bless, Matthew, and good luck.

Paix et Joie Anciens de St Pierre

Matthew let the paper flutter from his fingers onto the floor. With a long, deep sigh, he pulled the generous hood of his cloak right over his face and curled up on the bed once more.

The sky was a mottled blue-grey when Dominic stumbled into consciousness. Rolling onto his side, he groaned at the shot of pain that crawled up his spine. Though he was thankful of Scrap’s generosity, he was distinctly ruffled by the fact that he had been forced to sleep on the sofa. It was old, lumpy and uncomfortable, and he had spent an unpleasant night tossing and turning, limbs splayed awkwardly as he failed to sleep.

Finally, though, he had scraped together a few hours of rest, and woke with the sunlight streaming through patchworked, beaten curtains. He groaned. Having forgotten that he was not in fact in bed, he rolled over and consequently fell, with a loud bang, onto the rough hardwood floor.

“Bollocks,” he muttered under his breath, massaging his bottom as he heaved himself onto his feet.

“Are you alright, lovey?” asked a concerned voice, and his head whipped around at speed to see Scrap’s mother - a dumpy, kind-eyed woman named Maggie whose distinct resemblance to a bulldog had made him perpetually terrified of her as a child - standing at the foot of the stairs, peering at him in concern. “I heard a bang,” she explained, waddling into the room with a chuckle.

“Fell off the sofa,” he declared meekly, grinning as she approached him. She stopped in front of him, looking up at him with eyes that had never changed in the years he’d known her. A hand reached out and stroked down his hair affectionately.

“You’re such a handsome little boy, aren’t you, eh?” she said, shaking her head with a soft smile. It promptly disappeared, her hand slipping down to his shoulder and squeezing lightly. “Dominic, lovey, why are you here? Scrap told me that something had happened and I did wonder whether...” She shook her head, frowning. “You don’t have to tell me anything, lovey, I’m just concerned.”

“I...” Dominic faltered, suddenly unsure of what to say. Should he tell her the truth? Or should he lie to her? He couldn’t lie to everyone - and besides, his family now knew everything. And yet look what good honesty had done him in that respect. It was because his family knew that he was now being forced to spend the night at Scrap’s. Inwardly, he cringed. Maggie looked so expectant and hopeful. He didn’t know what to say.

“I had an argument,” he said slowly, thinking as he spoke. “With Nancy. And then Mum got involved and... I just thought that it would be better if I stayed away from the house for a few days. I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he added hurriedly. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Lovey, you’ve never been a nuisance in this house. You’ll always be welcome.”

Dominic smiled, nodding thankfully. Uncertain of exactly how to express his feeling of gratitude, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly. “For everything, I mean, not...not just for letting me stay. You’re family to me, Maggie.”

Maggie chuckled, hugging him closely. When she pulled back, her face was blushing violently. She smoothed down his hair again, still giggling, abashed. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “You know, Scrap’s never this warm towards me - I wish he would be from time to time.”

“Yeah, well, mam, the times I do tell you I love you might be few and far between but at least then they’re more special, eh?” Scrap’s voice wandered into the room before he did. When he did finally appear, he was dressed simply in a pair of holey pyjama bottoms. He grinned. “Am I family to you as well, Dom?”

“‘Course you are!” Dom laughed, throwing a cushion at him. He caught it deftly and balanced it on his head.

“How about this one, mam?” he did a slow pirouette, all three glouglous laughing as the cushion toppled to the floor. “I was thinking we could all wear cushions with chinstraps for the big ceremony.”

“What big ceremony?” Dom asked, at exactly the same time as Maggie.

Scrap, brandishing a newspaper, gave them both a meaningful look. “You not seen the paper?” he asked, unfolding it and thrusting the front cover in their faces.

Dominic’s stomach dropped. Feeling distinctly sick, he held back the urge to grab the newspaper and rip it to confetti, and settled instead for a shocked expression.

The headline was simple, precise and to the point. Cachant has begun!

Matthew was going to be a Unique. Matthew was in Cachant. He was hidden away from the world for an indeterminable time and there was no way that Dominic was going to be able to see him until he and Adora were released to the world as the two brand new Uniques.

Seizing the paper from Scrap, Dominic sat down on the sofa and skim-read the article as fast as was humanly possible.

Uniques-in-waiting... Matthew Bellamy and Adora Constantine... long-lasting relationship... Bellamy’s parents, Agostino and Calliope... Cachant... unknown period of time... a ceremony shrouded in mystery... love and togetherness... Uniques... Matthew... Adora... Matthew and Adora... future Uniques... Paix and Joie... St. Pierre waits in anticipation... Matthew and Adora... Matthew and Adora... Matthew and Adora... Matthew and Adora...

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Scrap’s voice pulled Dominic back to the present.

Maggie had disappeared, presumably setting about making breakfast, and Scrap was sitting beside him on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Dominic replied numbly. “Really exciting. Can’t wait to see what happens.”

Scrap laughed, shaking his head pitifully. “I know exactly how you feel, man. Nobody even gives a fuck, do they?” He nudged Dominic with his elbow conspiratorially. “But everyone just lies and says that they do.”

“Listen,” Dominic said suddenly, barely even aware of what he was saying, “Scrap, I need to tell you something, and you have to swear not to tell anyone, okay?”

Scrap’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, a secret,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No, Scrap, I’m serious. This is a really fucking big deal, and if you ever tell anyone I can’t ever trust you again.” Standing up, Dom began to drag Scrap away from the sofa and upstairs to his bedroom.

“Dom, where are we going? What are you--? You better not be trying to take advantage of me because I have pepper spray and I really don’t want to have to use it on you but--”

“Scrap.” Dominic snapped, shutting the door quietly behind him and steering his friend to sit down on the bed. “If you say one more word, I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Alright, alright, fucking hell, Dom, I’ll shut up.”

Dominic sighed, fiddling with his fingers as he briefly attempted to work out what it was he could say to explain just what was going on in his head. “You know how I’m... I’m the songwriter for Matthew Bellamy?” he said carefully, testing the words in his mouth.

“Yeah...”

“Well, a while ago, me and him were alone in my office...”

The story seemed to take forever. Coupled with Dominic’s pauses as he delved into the slightly more intimate side of things, and the fact that he was almost constantly glancing sidelong at Scrap to see the expression on his face, the entire explanation took over half an hour. He could feel his friend shifting awkwardly beside him, and wasn’t sure whether he should have told him anything in the first place.

Finally, though, the story had to come to an end, and as Dominic silently told himself to breathe, Scrap pulled a face.

“Well,” Scrap said, blinking. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and then slapped it against his knee. “Firstly,” he said with a nervous smile, and Dominic relaxed a little, “I had absolutely no idea that you swung that way,” he said with the graciousness only a lifelong friend could manage.

“Scrap, it’s not so much that I swing that way, it’s just--”

“Yeah yeah, just Matthew and the plot for revenge thing, I get that. Secondly,” he said, chuckling to himself and waggling his eyebrows, “as if you’re banging a Voix!” Scrap clapped Dom hard around the shoulder, the songwriter wincing but still managing a smile.

“We’re not--”

“Banging, fucking, cuddling in front of an open fire, it’s still all the same, Dom! And I bet you want to anyway, right?”

The blush that coloured Dominic’s cheeks answered for him.

“Exactly, Dom, exactly. Always knew you thought with your dick,” Scrap teased.

“Scrap!” Dom shouted playfully, clapping his friend around the arm. They descended into a mock fight, Scrap pinning the smaller down boy onto the bed within seconds.

Looking down at his friend, Scrap suddenly said, “your dad would be proud of you, you know.”

The smile disappeared off Dom’s face. “Wh-what?” he said, as Scrap released him and let him sit up again.

“He would. He’d want you to be happy, that’s all he’s ever wanted for you,” Scrap said slowly, watching as Dom’s gaze wandered elsewhere. “I know you’re not quite happy yet, and I know it’s gonna take some working out, but that’s all he’d ever want and he’d be proud that you’ve been working so hard for something you love.”

Dominic met Scrap’s eyes on that final word, lips forming a word but not quite uttering it.

“Well? Do you love him?”

“I... I don’t know,” Dominic said to himself, his voice wavering.

“Mate, you’ll know. And think about it; would you really be risking life and limb for, number one, someone so unobtainable and, number two, someone who you don’t even know is good in bed or not!”

“Scrap, you are unbearable sometimes,” Dom said sourly with a smile on his face.

“You wouldn’t last without me though,” Scrap said, standing up. “C’mon, Mam’s making pancakes.”

Scrap was right on two counts, Dominic decided as he followed his best friend downstairs. He knew that he couldn’t do without Scrap, for starters, but he also knew that when the time was right, the Matthew Bellamy problem would resolve itself.

It was so quiet.

Matthew, sitting cross-legged on his bed, stared at the opposite wall, lost in his thoughts. He had nothing to do but think in this awful empty room and his thoughts were not the best company. Absently, his fingers began to curl around the plain, dark bedsheets, grabbing fistfuls of fabric and tugging at them.

He was thinking about Dominic, but his thoughts were not solid. They seemed untouchable and constantly moving, unable to stay in the same place for long. Brief flashes of the glouglou’s face passed across his mind’s eye. One second, he was laughing. The next, he was shouting. It continued in the same unstoppable way until, with a deep breath, Matthew lifted himself from the bed and walked towards the bathroom.

He needed something - anything - to take his mind away from what lay outside the room. Tugging a hand through his hair, he decided that now was a better time than any to do as Joie’s letter had instructed and bathe himself. The idea of making it into some kind of ceremony seemed ridiculous, but nobody was watching him. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

He undressed, discarding his clothes on the tiled floor and dipping his foot into the water. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself into the bath, submerged past his stomach. The water was comfortably warm and soothing.

Matthew flicked at the surface of the water with his right hand, watching a droplet skitter across the surface. Sighing quietly, he racked his brains, attempting to remember the contents of Joie’s letter.

He had to submerge himself completely under the water, and there was something to do with his hair being important - that much, he could remember. Filling his lungs with oxygen, he screwed his eyes shut and dipped his head beneath the surface.

Bubbles escaped from between his lips. Had Joie mentioned anything about how long he was supposed to stay there? Worries clawed at his stomach, and the urge to breathe was tapping lightly at the back of his head. Perhaps a second passed, and he opened his eyes, able to see nothing but his pale limbs floating in the water. He raised a hand, his movements dulled by the changes water made, and stared at it, his eyes beginning to sting. Something about the silence of underwater, and the fact that the only sound he could hear was his pulse, had left his surroundings feeling ethereal and detached.

Finally unable to stay there any longer, he pushed at the base of the bath and emerged, gasping for breath. His chest rose and fell heavily, but as he let his back come to rest gently against the wall of the bath, he cared little for the feeling of vulnerability. His eyes fell closed; he could have slept there, had he wanted to. But instead, he found himself guiltily wishing for Dominic, that the glouglou would find his way into Matthew’s prison and promise him that he’d be fine.

Curling his lip bitterly, shaking the droplets out of his hair and reaching for a bar of soap. “Don’t be so ridiculous,” he told himself, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.

Dominic kicked a stone all the way to the park in Sector Three. It was a quiet park set back from the hubbub of the sector market and parade of pop-up shops. It was schooltime and Dominic presumed he didn’t have work (not that the Bellamys had bothered to inform him otherwise) so the park was silent, save for the sound of water lapping at the edges of the lake.

Beyond the park and at the top of a small hill, though, was his destination.

Glouglous didn’t have many rights, but one that had been passed down through the generations was the right to a peaceful resting place. The small graveyard beyond the park was fenced with wrought iron, with huge cherry blossom trees shedding pink petals onto the tombstones below. Dominic had only been here once before, and that was on the day his father was lowered into the ground, his hatred for Matthew Bellamy at its utmost peak.

“Times have changed,” he whispered, as he crouched beside one of the many plain gravestones. They were engraved with the glouglou’s number, given name and a simple quote about them. Fleck’s declared that he was a “loving husband and father, who put the whole world before himself.”

“Times have changed and I can’t make sense of it,” Dom repeated as he sat beside the grave, fingers playing with a stray petal of cherry blossom. “I don’t know whether or not you’d be proud of me, Dad.” Sighing, he looked up, seeing a baby in the arms of its mother as they walked past the entrance to the quiet space. She nodded at Dominic, a sign of respect for both him and Fleck, the blond-haired baby cooing in her arms.

It spurred him onwards.

“I’ve fallen in love, Dad,” Dominic whispered, the secret rushing into the summer breeze and leaving him feeling much lighter than before. “I’ve fallen in love, but would you accept me if I said it was with a man?”

The breeze blew stronger around him then died out completely, leaving the warm sticky air to cling around his body. Dom blinked twice in succession. “I’ll consider that as a yes,” he whispered with a morose smile on his face. He abandoned the petal in favour of another. “But it’s not just any man, Dad. It’s the son of the monster who killed you, and I’m still struggling to come to terms with it all.”

The wind picked up again but Dom continued his one-sided conversation, regardless.

“He’s not like his father though,” he hurried to say, defending Matthew desperately. “He isn’t... alright, sometimes he pouts and throws a tantrum but he’s not like his father. He’s everything his father doesn’t want him to be. He doesn’t really want to be a Voix, he’s just the embodiment of his father’s dreams.”

Sun shining down on the park, Dominic raised his head. The rays hit the surface of the lake and made it glitter as it rippled under the caress of the wind. “He’s different, Dad. And I know it’s not lust. When I speak to him, it gives me a fluttery feeling here,” he said, shaking fingers brushing the fabric covering his stomach, “and I never felt that before with Rory. It’s new and exciting and...”

He trailed off as another person walked past where he was sitting, the hat pulled low on their head. Dominic’s blood turned to ice in his veins as he considered the thought of someone finding out his darkest secret, and with it running straight to Le Monde.

“I’m scared, Dad,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m scared for our future. I don’t want to be apart from him. I have to be apart from him, now, because he’s over in those temples and I can’t get to him.”

From the park’s advantageous position on the slope of a hill, Dominic could gesture to the two pyramids in the distance, bleached a bright white in the sunlight. He’d been into that gated enclosure several times in his life to watch the crowning of the new Uniques, a ceremony that bored him completely because he would never be able to see anything and it was always blisteringly hot.

Now, however, there wasn’t anywhere in the world he’d rather be but beyond those golden gates.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dom sighed, a hand stroking the limestone of his father’s gravestone. “What should I do, Dad?” he whispered, pressing his head against the cool stone. “I’m so scared. If you were here, you’d be able to say something that would make everything alright again. But... but you’re not here, and I need you. I wish you were here.” Taking a deep breath, he stood up, taking one last look at his father’s grave. “Talk to you later,” he mumbled, eyes slowly filling with tears as he walked away.

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