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ellsbclls · 3 years

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you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there???

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut.

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh, enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well.

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub,

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #something about this man fucking the bad day out of you 🥰#what a gentleman #ANOTHER 3K DOOZY??????#WHA T TH E FUCK???#mine*

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mysweetkittae · 2 years

Text

When The Sun Rises (Ch.17)

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

Characters: Actor!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 4,797

Warnings: Depression, anxiety, mentions of past child neglect, mentions of past parental death, I promise there is happiness and hope in this.

Author’s Note: This story is fully written and will be updated weekly! It will also be posted on AO3 if you would prefer to read it there.

Summary: Everything felt numb, the heavy weight of nothingness having long found purchase in the spaces between Jungkook's ribs. It was all he knew – to run, so far away that his fears could never catch him – until one day he couldn’t anymore. Until one day there was nowhere left for him to run; nowhere left for him to hide. And then someone came along – kind and loving and patient, the wisps of the morning rays to illuminate his endless night sky – and suddenly Jungkook didn’t want to run anymore. For the first time in his life, he no longer wanted to hide – he just wanted to be free.

The first time Y/N came to visit Jungkook since they got back together was nerve-wracking, to say the least. Jungkook had managed to visit a number of times in the near six months it had been, even if they were only short weekend trips, but combined with the near daily calling or messaging, the two of them had quickly crossed whatever distance had formed between them.

The day had been spent hanging out with everyone, hopping from café to café until Jungkook and Y/N finally settled at home, curled up on the sofa under piles of blankets that were far too heavy for the season.

“Are you sure it’s okay for you to be missing this event?” Y/N asked as she looked up to his face, chin perched on his shoulder. “Networking is important.”

“I have networked enough for a hundred lifetimes, Y/N, I'd much rather be here with you.”

“But… priorities,” she pouted.

“Exactly; priorities,” Jungkook answered, pressing a series of gentle kisses to her forehead.

“Hey,” Jungkook mumbled, hours later with the moon high in the sky, arms still wrapped around the woman who owned his heart.

“Hmm?” Y/N replied sleepily, eyes slowly drifting closed.

“I love you. So, so much.”

“I love you more,” she whispered back, shifting until she lay comfortably on his chest.

☽ ☼ ☾

The second time Y/N visited it was easy, any fear from the previous visit completely non-existent. The morning was spent giggling over Jungkook's childhood stories with Namjoon and Kyungmin's parents whilst Jungkook was busy with a last-minute meeting, cheeks flushed when he finally came back to see Y/N wading in old embarrassing pictures of his. Many of the pictures he hadn’t even seen himself, finding out that they had been hidden in the attic with numerous other old photo albums.

The rest of the day was spent with the two of them reminiscing over their childhood, both pleasant and painful times shared with one another, forming a new memory that was filled with nothing but love and warmth.

☽ ☼ ☾

The third time she visited was not as easy, the knowledge of how little time they had together tainting every moment. It was getting harder, this long distance relationship thing. It was the only option they had right now, they both knew that well, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Their legs swung as they hung over the edge of the board walk, stars twinkling over the soft laps of the water.

“I feel so conflicted,” Y/N admitted, fingers pulling Jungkook's hand into her lap.

“About what?”

“Just… everything. I hate that we can't be together all the time but I also hate the thought of leaving my grandparents alone. I know that it’s a decision that’ll have to happen at some point but I just can't leave them right now. But then it’s not fair to you either and I just… I wish I could have everything at once. That way it wouldn’t be so hard to make a decision. Why can't everything just be simple?”

“I wish there was a simple answer, but no matter what we end up doing someone will have to make a big sacrifice, and that’s not something that’s going to be easy,” Jungkook answered solemnly, heart twinging at the way she looked so distraught.

“Well how do we decide?”

“I don’t know yet, but whatever we do we have to think about it carefully. We’ll discuss it properly this time, no repeats of last time.”

Y/N playfully elbowed his ribs at his response, small smile on her face. “Who would’ve guessed that communication was important in a relationship?”

“I know right? Never would’ve thought it,” Jungkook replied in jest, nudging her back.

Each touch lasted a little bit longer leading up to Y/N going back home, neither one wanting to be the first to let go. Y/N prayed that Jungkook hadn’t seen her tears as she left, knowing that it would only make it harder for him to see her so upset. But she couldn’t help it. Leaving was never an easy thing, but it had never been so difficult before. And this time… this time her heart was aching so desperately, lungs struggling to fully expand as the train moved further away. She was on her way back home, so why did it feel like she was getting further away from it?

She was usually good at hiding her emotions, perfected the art of masking the intensity of her pain from her grandparents, yet this time her heart was overflowing so vastly that even a stranger would know that she wasn’t okay. And her grandparents – well, they were the furthest thing from strangers, weren’t they? They knew everything there was to know about her, even if she didn’t know it herself. She was their whole world, the very star their entire lives revolved around. So when she turned up, eyes swollen and red, body shaking in their arms like a leaf in a storm, they knew that it was time.

“You miss him a lot, don’t you darling,” Y/N's grandma said matter-of-factly, rubbing her hand in circles over Y/N's back.

“Why does it hurt so much?” Y/N sobbed, fingers gripping tightly on her clothes.

“Because you love him, and it hurts to be away from your family,” her grandpa supplied softly.

“But you're my family too. It hurts so much to be away from either of you. What do I do? I can't leave you but I don’t want to leave him either.”

“Maybe… maybe you don’t have to choose,” her grandma said carefully.

“How though? We’re here and he's over there. I can't expect him to drop everything and move here and I can't just leave everything behind to go to him. It’s just this never ending cycle of sadness. I know we’ll have to figure something out eventually, but how?”

“Well,” her grandpa started, pulling her hand into his own, “we've actually been thinking about this for quite some time now and we… we think it’s time to sell the hotel.”

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, words barely registering. “How could you even think of something like that?”

“Look, Y/N, we’re not getting younger. We’re getting weaker and we don’t have the energy to work as much anymore”

“I can do it! I can work more hours at the hotel while you guys rest, or-or we can hire another person to help,” Y/N supplied frantically, eyes flickering back and forth as her brain began working on different scenarios to make it work.

“And what about your bookshop? You already work more hours than can be considered healthy, if you spend more time at the hotel then how will you manage your shop?” Her grandpa questioned.

“I… I can sell it…” Y/N said slowly to herself, processing the thought before repeating it more firmly. “Yeah, I can easily sell the shop. It’s in a good location, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. And with the profits from that I'm sure we could hire someone else if necessary.”

“Y/N, stop,” her grandma said sternly, hand resting on her cheek to slow her down. “You will not sell your shop just to work more hours at the hotel.”

“But-”

“No. Listen, Y/N, we will not let you sell your precious shop just for our sake. Besides, the hotel doesn’t even make a large enough profit. Trust us, we put a lot of thought into this, and it just isn't worth it anymore.”

“But…”

“Honey, we know that the real reason you haven’t moved to the city yet is because of us.”

“No-!”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” she consoled Y/N. “We know, and we appreciate it so much, but it’s finally time. If we all moved to the city then not only would it mean that we were closer to a hospital and wouldn’t have to travel as much as we have been for appointments, but it would mean that your business would do better, and, most importantly, you and Jungkook would finally live in the same city. It’s the perfect solution.”

“No… no. You're… you're only saying that because of me,” Y/N sniffed, palms wiping away the tears from her cheeks. “You can't sell this hotel, I won't let you. This is your dream, you’ve dedicated your whole life to this place. I can't let you just throw it away because of me. I won't be that selfish.” Y/N was almost fuming at this point, the thought of her grandparents wanting to throw their life’s work away just for her leaving her filled with rage.

“Y/N please, just listen to us,” her grandma begged, pulling her arm to sit her back down.

“I won't let you give up your dream for me,” Y/N mumbled quietly, a fresh batch of tears pricking her eyes.

“And what about your dream?” Her grandpa countered. “Y/N, as much as we love this hotel – it’s just a hotel. You are our dream, and we would do absolutely anything for you, just as you would for us. This building is not worth more to us than our own grandchild. Besides, even if you put all of that aside it’s still more logical to sell the hotel. We aren’t able to maintain it ourselves nor can we afford to hire more staff, and considering how few customers we get? It’s just not worth it anymore.”

“We just want to rest now,” her grandma said wearily. “We've spent our whole lives working, Y/N, we just want to relax and enjoy and do things we never got a chance to do whilst we still have some of our health left.”

“Are you really willing to move away from this place? Move away from my parents and all of the memories we have?” Y/N asked silently.

“Our memories will always stay with us, no matter where we go in the world. Besides, there's nothing stopping us from visiting anytime we want. This will always be our home.”

“I… I need some time to think about it,” Y/N requested, voice quiet and wary.

“Of course, take as much time as you need. And remember – whatever decision we make, we make as a family. We won't do anything unless everyone’s on board with it, okay?”

Y/N nodded, giving her grandparents tired kisses on their cheeks before dredging her feet across the floor as she made her way towards her room. Her first instinct had been to call Jungkook and tell him everything that had happened, but upon thinking about it she figured it would probably be better to wait. She wanted to properly think about it and form cohesive thoughts so that they could have a productive discussion, rather than her just blabbering nonsensically and going around in circles.

There was also the question of whether she should talk to Hoseok about it or wait until a decision had been made. If they moved, then this was something that would affect him too since he worked with them. She’d be more than happy for him to move with them so they could continue working together, but would he be willing to make such a big move? The last thing she wanted as to stress him out with something that might not even happen, yet they couldn’t make such a big decision without him since it would have a major impact on him. Groaning into her pillow with frustration, she figured that she would see what Jungkook thought about the situation tomorrow and work it out from there.

Thoughts swirled endlessly around her mind that night, trying to imagine various scenarios that could arise from the different choices. What her grandparents had suggested would be a good idea, she couldn’t deny that, but what she couldn’t shake was the immense guilt that overcame her whenever she thought about them giving up their precious hotel and moving away from this town just for her sake. Even if she moved away herself, it would be such a huge life change that she didn’t know if she could deal with it.

All of these worries were aired to Jungkook when she finally called him in the morning, knowing well that there was no way she’d be able to last the entire day without talking to him about it.

“No, I see where you're coming from. I mean I'm not gonna lie, the selfish part of me wants you all to come here so we can all be together all the time, but I'm also hesitant because what if they're doing this just because of me?” Jungkook voiced, frowning in concern at the possibility.

“That’s what I keep worrying about,” Y/N sighed tensely. “We both know how much they care about us, I wouldn’t put it past them to give up everything so that we can be happy.”

“Yeah, but then again they're not wrong about how they don’t have as much energy to run a hotel anymore. They deserve to rest.”

“I get that, and I'm not planning on forcing them to continue working, but just because they stop working doesn’t mean selling the hotel, right? Like I can take charge of it and we can hire people to help out. They don’t have to give up their dreams for us.”

“But it’s okay for you to give up your dream for them? The only way you could take over the hotel is if you sell your bookshop, and we all know how precious your shop is to you.”

“Well yeah, but not more important than them.”

“Isn't that how they feel about you? That you're more important to them than the hotel?”

“Ugh this is so frustrating!” Y/N groaned, flailing around in bed as her confusion only became more intense.

“Look,” Jungkook reassured, “this is a big decision. You don’t have to come up with an answer right now. Take more time to rationally think about it, list out the pros and cons, and then trust your instinct. And talk to Hoseok, okay? This involves him as well, plus it'll probably help to have his opinion since he's slightly more removed from the situation.”

“Yeah, you're right. I just wish I immediately knew what I wanted.”

“Life would be so much easier if it worked that way, would it?” Jungkook teased.

“Tell me about it,” Y/N said as she rolled her eyes, head throbbing from overthinking.

“Hey, Y/N?” Jungkook said after a moment, voice soft and careful.

“Hmm?”

“Whatever decision you end up making, don’t make it just for me.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N asked in confusion, propping herself up on her elbow.

“I don’t want all of you uprooting your entire life just because you think it’s the only way for us to be together. We’ll find a way to make this work, okay? Even if this isn't the answer, we’ll find a way eventually.”

She smiled adoringly, heart swelling at his sincerity. “I know. I promise you that if we do move, it'll be because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Good,” he smiled in relief. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

☽ ☼ ☾

“I'm not seeing what the problem is,” Hoseok said honestly, fingers digging at the crumbling grout of the wall they were perched on, legs swaying as they looked out to the water. “Do you not want to move to the city and be with him?”

“Of course I do, it’s not that.”

“Then? Do you want your grandparents to keep on working?”

“No I don’t want that either.”

“Then what is it that you want? Because as far as I can tell, this is the best case scenario,” Hoseok answered, eyeing the way her shoulders hunched over.

“I know…”

“So what is it? There's something else to this, isn't there?”

“I just… as much as I want to move to the city and start the next chapter of my life, I can't help but feel immense guilt. My whole life is here – my parents are here.”

Since their bodies had never been found, her family had always seen this ocean as their burial ground, so to leave them behind felt almost sinful.

“My parents loved this town and wanted to spend the rest of their lives here. When I was little I promised them that we would all live here together and be happy forever, but if I leave then it’s like I'm betraying them,” she sulked, pressing her fingers into the stone until it left indentations.

“People change, Y/N, and times change too. I'm sure your parents would understand that. I don’t think they would have wanted you to give it all up for a promise you made as a child,” Hoseok opposed.

“I know. And I know that they would want me to be happy and do what’s best for me – they always said that my happiness was more important than everything else – but I still feel so much guilt all the time,” she rued. “No matter what choice I make I will always have regrets, and I hate it.”

“That’s just how life works, I'm afraid. We constantly have to make choices, and sometimes those choices are really difficult.”

“So how do I choose?”

“You just have to listen to your gut.”

“My gut is telling me to throw up.”

Hoseok chuckled at Y/N's disdain. “Look, I'm not going to pretend that I know exactly how it feels to be in your situation, but what I can do is encourage you to do what I think is best for you – and Y/N, I truly, truly believe that this is what's right for you.”

“But what if it’s not?”

“Well, then you can always come back. This place will always be your home, and it’s not like anyone said that once you leave you can't ever come back. So go. Move with Jungkook and give it a solid chance, and if after that you feel like it’s not right for you, come back. You will always have a choice, Y/N, you just have to choose which ones to make.”

“How do you always know what to say?” Y/N sighed, fingers wrapped around her face.

“I work in a bookshop you know, that makes me super smart,” Hoseok chuckled, fixing his imaginary bowtie.

“Oh!” Y/N jolted, back straightening immediately. “That reminds me, I actually had something else I wanted to discuss with you.”

“W-what is it?” Hoseok asked nervously.

“Hoseok,” Y/N said seriously, clearing her throat and taking his hands into hers.

“W-what are you doing?”

“We’ve known each other for a while now and you know well that I trust you with my life.”

“What is happening?”

“I thought long and hard about this and discussed it at length with my grandparents too.”

“Y/N.”

“So let me ask you something-”

“Are you proposing?!”

“No, shut up. Jung Hoseok, will you be my business partner?”

“Will-what? Your what?”

“Will you be my business partner?”

“Yeah, what?!”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Because! This is a big commitment, Y/N, you are sure you want me to be your business partner?” Hoseok clarified, eyes having taken over half his face at this point.

“You're my best friend, Hoseok, we've been working together for years now and I meant it when I said I trusted you with my life.”

“But, still…”

“You're good at your job. You basically fulfil the role of a business partner anyway, this would just make it official really.”

Hoseok remained silent in his thoughts, brows furrowing as he contemplated the offer.

“Look, I've been thinking about this for some time now, even before the talks of moving happened, so this isn't some spur of the moment decision. If we stay here, I want to sign you onto the business, and if we move then I would love for you to come with us and be my business partner there. But there's no pressure whatsoever, I want you to know that. If we stay here and you want to continue just as you have been, that’s fine. If you want to move but not be my partner, that’s fine too. If you want to not work with me at all, whether we stay here or move, that’s fine too. Or if you decide you want to be my partner but then realise that you don’t actually want to then I'm okay with that. Or maybe even if you say no now but want it in the future, that would work too. Basically, the offer will always be there, it’s just up to you what you want to do with-”

Hoseok had pulled her into a crushing embrace before she had even gotten the last word out, heavy emotions weighing his heart down. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

“For what?” Y/N laughed softly, reciprocating his hug.

“Everything. For being you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No, you did everything, Y/N. I don’t think you realise just how much you’ve helped me. You’ve been so understanding and accommodating, right from the beginning. You always pushed me to be my best without pushing me too far and making me uncomfortable. You took me in and made me a part of your family even though you had no obligation to. I have come so far in terms of my health, and it’s all because of you. If you asked me the same question when we first met, whether it was to become your business partner or to move to the city, I probably would’ve run in the opposite direction and locked myself away. But now? Honestly speaking, I'm excited. I mean I'm pretty terrified, don’t get me wrong, but the thought of doing something so cool with my best friend? It’s exciting.”

“Well since we’re professing our undying love for each other,” Y/N smiled as she pulled back from his arms, “I sincerely hope you know how precious you are to me. I truly, truly don’t know what I would do without you. You know that I never really had any friends until you and Jungkook came into my life, and if you weren’t by my side when everything happened? I don’t know how I would’ve coped. You were there for me, no matter what. You called me out when I was being ridiculous and you stood by my side when it felt like my entire world was collapsing. You're my best friend, in every sense of the word, and I am so grateful to have you in my life. I mean it when I say this: there is no one else I'd rather do this with than you.”

“Friends forever?” Hoseok asked, holding his pinkie finger out.

“Friends forever,” Y/N agreed, clasping her pinkie around his.

“And Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“You always have so much love to give to everyone else. All I hope is that you save some love for yourself too.”

☽ ☼ ☾

When the answer finally came to Y/N, it wasn’t like there was a sudden switch going off in her mind. She had been walking down the beach by herself again, hands tucked into her jacket pocket as she talked to her parents about what the right thing to do was, when she realised that thinking about leaving didn’t make her sad anymore.

And it was peaceful, the way her heart no longer lurched at the thought of not seeing this ocean every day. The longing hadn’t disappeared, but it wasn’t so vicious anymore, no longer feeling like it was clawing her heart to shreds.

Instead it was a gentle lull, pulling her heart to and fro, but always returning to the same place.

Peaceful.

Content.

Free.

I think I'm ready.

“Darling, are you sure about this?” Her grandma questioned.

“I'm sure,” Y/N answered resolutely. “I thought about this a lot and of all the different options and outcomes, and you were right. This is the best option, and I think it’s time.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm so proud of you. I'm sure this wasn’t an easy decision.”

“No, it wasn’t, but it’s the right thing to do. And besides, like everyone said, it’s not like once we move we can't ever come back. This will always be our home.”

“Well I guess that’s settled then – we need to start the process of selling everything,” her granddad declared.

“Actually that was something I've also been thinking about,” she added. “I was taking a look at our finances and there's not long left on the mortgage for the hotel. If we rent it out then in a few years’ time the mortgage will have been paid off and it'll be a good source of income for you. Plus, it means that we don’t actually have to sell it, so it'll still be yours.”

“Will that be enough? Moving and opening up your new business won't be cheap – won't we need more money than just selling your shop?”

“I still need to properly discuss things with Jungkook to get all the details worked out, but I think it should be enough.”

☽ ☼ ☾

“I know you're going to say no,” Jungkook prefaced, moving his face closer to the phone screen during the video call, “but just hear me out first.”

Y/N nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“I pay for everything and you don’t have to worry about anything!”

“Nope,” she interjected, not even entertaining the thought for a second.

“But why?” Jungkook whined, frustrated that he she wasn’t letting him take care of her family.

“Because! I can't just let you pay for everything, Jungkook, that’s way too much.”

“But I love you,” he pouted, eyes falling in disappointment.

“And I love you too, Kookie, but you know I can't. If you were in my position would you accept an offer like that?”

“…No,” he grumbled.

“Then?”

“I know,” he sighed. “I just want to help you as much as I can. I love you so much and I only want the best for you.”

“I know, and trust me, I appreciate it so much. I just wouldn’t be comfortable accepting that much.”

“What do we do then? The building and apartment have already been bought from last time.”

“I was thinking about that too,” she groaned, cheek planting in her hand. “I don’t want you to have to sell it because you bought them with so much love, but there's also no way that I could afford paying for those places.”

“Hmm… oh!” Jungkook exclaimed, almost dropping his phone with excitement.

“What?”

“What if we found a way to do both?” Jungkook proposed, a twinkle in his eye.

“What do you mean?”

“Well I really want you to have the building and apartment I chose because I think they'd be perfect for you, but it’s out of your budget if you paid full price for it. Since if I had it my way I would just gift them to you anyway, why not just pay me the rent? But rather than the actual full price just pay how much you’re paying now at home. That would work wouldn’t it?”

“But then I'm still not paying anywhere near how much it actually costs.”

“Well you can just pay me over a longer period of time, and if in the future you have the ability to pay a higher price, then pay me more. It’s a win-win situation really,” he beamed, proud of himself for having thought of this idea.

“There's no guarantee that I'd be earning enough in the future to pay you the full price, and if I pay you the same that I currently pay then you'd be waiting ages to get your money back,” she said hesitantly, apprehension scrunching up her face.

“Well it’s a good thing we’re gonna be together forever then isn't it?” Jungkook grinned, cheeks bunching up at his perfect plan.

“Jungkook,” Y/N said, eyes finally welling with tears, “you know how much I love you, right?”

“Hey, why are you crying?” Jungkook said gently, concern painting his face.

“I just… you have done so much for me and my family and I don’t know how I'm ever going to repay you.”

“Hey, I don’t want to hear any of that ‘repayment’ nonsense, okay? You, Y/N, are the love of my life, and I would do absolutely anything for you, you got that? Anything. You don’t owe me anything. The only thing I want is for you to be happy and successful. I just want to be with you, that’s it.”

Y/N choked at his words, nodding her head in agreement as her lip quivered at the oncoming tears.

“Just come to me quickly,” Jungkook sniffled, blinking away the tears so he could see Y/N's face more clearly, “I miss you so much.”

70 notes · View notes

fangirlishing · 3 years

Text

just for a laugh

fred weasley x fem!reader/oc extract from my fic just for a laugh

word count: 4k

content warning: 18+ ONLY; nsfw smut; unprotected sex; kissing; dom/sub vibe but they’re also switches; praise kink; begging; teasing/a little derogatory fun; nipple play; penetration; its their first time <3; fingering; blowjob; this is just pure filth.

I pulled Fred down into me, showing him that I was here for him. With this action cementing my permission, he wasted no time in easily picking me up by my waist. I jumped on instinct, coiling my legs around his toned torso. Our lips remained tangled in a mess of emotions as Fred slowly walked us over to Percy’s bed.

He practically threw me down into the plush mattress and I released a nervous giggle as I bounced lightly upon my landing. Fred, however, wasted no time joking around as he crawled on top of me and brought our lips together again.

In this new position, his thigh pressed greedily into my core, shocking me back into a state of delirious pleasure. Laughter wiped from my face to be replaced with thundering desire.

I tried to control the urges that were building up inside of me but, as his hands snaked under my shirt, I knew it was a futile goal. I moaned pleasurably, the sound muffled by his mouth which openly kissed mine.

A filthy smirk coated his lips as he trailed his fingers further up my chest. My breath hitched slightly as his calloused touch inched close to my breasts and my body reacted on instinct, rolling upwards into his strong hands with pleasure. My body and mind working together in tandem as both craved more from him.

His lips detached smoothly from mine as he whispered close to my ear, “you wanna take this off for me?” His hot breath set my neck ablaze and I almost let a moan spring free at such intimacy.

My eyes were wide but maintained my feverish desire to please him as they became darkened with a lust deep enough to match his. Without thinking, I pulled the pyjama shirt over my head and chucked it across the room.

For the first time, Fred looked upon my naked torso. I writhed a little at his analytical gaze, even his eyes on me was enough to send me toppling under waves of pleasure. On some level, he knew I'd left myself naked for him. I'd hardly admit it to his face, but, his joking seduction at dinner had coerced me into leaving myself completely naked underneath my pyjamas as I hoped, a little romantically, that he might finally act upon the tension building between us for weeks.

“Good girl,” he hummed filthily, drawing me up by my neck to reconnect our lips as a frenzied reward.

As our lips entangled, his hands returned to my bare skin which glistened for him under the moonlight peeking through the dark we were engrossed within. I began to whine upon his lips as his fingers purposefully avoided the places he knew I needed him most, thrusting my chest into his touch to show my impatience.

With such a display, he bit my lip painfully, dragging it out teasingly as his sultry eyes met mine before letting my lip snap back into place.

“Do you need something, darling?” He asked innocently, but his eyes challenged me as they smirked whilst looking upon the lustful cracks his taunting fingers caused to spread across my skin.

I whined softly, hoping no one could hear me as pleading begs fell from my lips almost as if magically coaxed out by Fred. I wouldn't put it past him but I knew I was under my own spell, enchanted by the red-headed treat towering over me.

He cast a wordless charm around the room before he spoke again, “you want me that badly?” He snickered, eyes still focused on assessing my body as if it was a half unwrapped gift ready for his final, jarring tears to whisk away the wrapping that contained me.

All I could muster was a nod as his fingers tantalisingly stroked down my sides, “dirty girl,” he chuckled teasingly in my ear before placing his open lips on the hidden hickeys that dotted my neck and chest, courteously of our moments of previous frenzied pleasure at Hogwarts.

He bit a few of them, laughing more as he watched me jolt with pleasure. It felt wrong to hear Fred talk to me in such a way - like this was all just some fantasy I’d cooked up in my dreams but, as I felt his tongue drag across my skin, I knew how real this was and I could no longer deny the pleasure that shuddered up my spine.

My hand slid into his hair instinctively, gripping it softly as he travelled his way down my body. I relished at how close we were, I could almost feel his heartbeat racing alongside mine as his strong beater figure pressed against my perky, bare chest.

“How much have you imagined this, darling?” He quipped, drawing himself back up to drown me in another of his captivating kisses as I whined in his mouth.

“Too much,” I gasped, opening my eyes to watch him smirk down at me, “probably every night.”

He moved close to my mouth again, hovering over it as he whispered, “what do we do in your head?” His voice screamed control but it wavered as he, too, struggled with his pleasures.

I felt it grow below, undulating into my still clothed skin to remind me that I was not alone in this longing. We had indulged ourselves too quickly for Fred's liking and, so, he drew us out longer with such questions. Perhaps he wanted to avoid the conversation we were due for as long as possible but, with his hardness pulsing into my thigh, rubbing slightly, I didn't care.

I flushed excessively in the dark room, distracted by my racing thoughts. He chuckled throatily in my ear before kissing my neck once more. “Is it that dirty, love? So bad you can’t even tell me? I promise it’ll stay between us,” he pressed a soft kiss upon my lips, staring me down as he regained control, knowing that I was fully encased under him.

“Its…” my thoughts were interrupted as he tweaked one of my nipples teasingly, I glared down his innocent disguise as I continued, “it’s embarrassing.”

He laughed again, kissing the centre of my chest, right between my breasts which heaved with desire, “that’s cute, love. How ‘bout you tell me one thing we’ve done in your head and I’ll tell you something I’ve thought about in return?”

“You-you’ve-?” I stammered, causing him to smile more.

“Of course, but I won’t say anything until you speak up.”

A lump formed in my throat as I sifted through all the fantasies my brain had conjured throughout my infatuation with Fred. Some were innocent - like going on picnics or wading through a pond and splashing each other with water whilst we laughed - but some were disgustingly perverse. Some I could hardly voice to him because I knew they would grant him much too power over my body and mind.

“One time I-“ I began, clearing my throat before I darted my eyes away from him as embarrassment roared through my veins, “I imagined you rewarding me for doing well on an essay,” I mumbled, turning my face fully away from him and shutting my eyes so I didn’t have to watch his provocative gaze as I lay my mind bare alongside my body for him.

His mouth came to hover next to my ear, “and how exactly did I reward you?” A sly kiss was placed just behind my ear which curled my toes and fluttered my breath.

I whimpered, unable to utter the words to him.

“Alright, darling,” I could hear him smile softly, leaving behind our game for a moment, he continued, “no pressure, I promise,” his hands rest comfortably along my sides, “how can I make you feel better, you look like you’re about to combust.”

He altered his position slightly, no longer hovering over me and trapping me under his presence. His muscled thigh remained in place, pressing on my anguished core, but he allowed himself to sit up, releasing me from the invisible chains his dominance wracked over me.

“Tell me about what you’ve imagined,” I whispered, drawing my hands up his chest to grip softly at the loose fabric of his shirt, slowly pulling him back down over me to reinforce my comfort with his controlling presence. To show him I needed him there just as much as he needed me.

“Hard to pick just one, love,” he uttered causing me to let out a chuckle that sent a wave of relaxation hurtling through me.

“I suppose there is one fantasy I keep revisiting,” he trailed off and I looked upon him with anticipation and he was more than willing to satisfy my cravings, “you’re studying hard in the library and I whisk you away to the restricted section and give you a much-needed break.”

My breath hitched slightly, “what do we do on this break?” I asked innocently as Fred’s fingers trailed down my stomach absentmindedly.

“Do you want to have a guess, darling? Or should I just tell you?”

His hands rest at the waistband to my pyjama bottoms as I gasped, allowing two words, “tell me,” to fall from my lips in a breathy respite.

Dragging his fingers across the band he hummed, “I lie you down on one of the tables,” he lifted my waistband, “and I tell you that I want you to do one thing,” I felt his fingers hover over my dripping slit, teasing me both subconsciously and physically as I squirmed slightly. I tried to ignore the surprised look of pleasure that fleetingly appeared on his face when he discovered no trace of underwear on me.

“Wh-what did you tell me?” I asked, anticipation getting the better of me as his fingers worked fire into my veins.

“I wanted you to beg to cum for me,” he stated simply, plunging a finger inside of me to coax out a desperate moan from my throat.

He was drunk on the power he wielded over me, looking down at my lustful expression and relishing in knowing that he was the one causing it. His cocky attitude taunted me, smirking upon me while I uttered profanities as I delved deeper into my pleasure, my brain conjuring up images of being bent over that library table and how Fred, I knew, would feast upon my body.

He coiled his thrusting finger inside of me, pushing against my pleasure point and dragging me further into a state of ecstasy. Delirious from the pleasure, I began to grind along with him as I craved more of his touch. More of him, whatever he decided to give me I would lap up like a dog. With this movement from me, he slid his finger out, denying me the pleasure I had become captivated under.

He began to stroke a set of his fingers up and down my slick entrance, breathing a laugh when I jolted as his fingers struck my bundle of nerves.

You’re so desperate for this, aren’t you?” He whispered into my ear and I pathetically whimpered a reply before crying out in shock as he suddenly slammed three fingers inside of me, chuckling in my ear at my loud response which he knew he'd get once he left me distracted with his slippery, seductive words. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he bit my ear playfully as he thrust faster, drawing more sounds of desperation from me.

His wicked eyes met mine and I knew exactly what I wanted him to know, it was something I’d whispered to myself late at night when giving myself a release and, admittedly, something I wanted to say to him.

“I wanna cum for you, Freddie,” I whined, gasping as his fingers plunged far deeper inside of me, engulfing me in pleasure as a response to the filth my lips divulged.

He hummed musically, “you’re perfect,” his lips softly slid over mine, passionately reaching into my senses as his fingers continued to drive me closer to my edge.

“Freddie,” I gasped through the kiss, heavily breathing before his lips returned to mine, “I need you now… Will you- I mean, would you want to-?” I cut myself off, feeling awkwardly vulnerable.

He detached from me only to gaze upon me with a genuine smile, “of course, only if you’re sure,” he pecked my lips again, reassuring me before we went too far.

I nodded, eyes glistening with uncontrolled affection. At this moment, I didn’t care how far we went and what that meant for us - I felt an animalistic urge surge deep within me that craved him in his entirety, no matter the consequences.

His fingers left me with a swift moment and I felt an emptiness I knew would soon be satisfied as Fred threw his sweater across the room. My hands ran over his muscled back, pulling him down for another kiss as a hungry, lustful ball settled uncomfortably in my stomach at the sight of him, it begged for its obscene desires to be quenched. He detached again to focus on slipping his pyjama pants off and I followed suit, leaving us both vulnerably naked for the first time.

I looked upon his hard member that had teased me thus far, my breath catching as reality settled upon my shoulders. Of course, I was a little fearful for my first time with Fred, but, as I met his kind eyes, I knew it was all going to be okay. That it wasn't going to be like the sex I once knew.

“You ready?” He asked, his soft tone relaxing my breathing.

“Merlin, yes,” I breathed and he chuckled over my lips, passionately kissing me once again. His open mouth moved leisurely over mine, short gasps interrupting our entanglement once he began touching himself for the first time since we’d begun. He'd held out so long to focus on my pleasure and, as I watched him succumb, it only enhanced my drive.

“Godric, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard,” he groaned, wincing with satisfaction as he stroked himself languidly.

“Let me,” I whispered, spitting into my hand and bringing it to stroke alongside him.

I watched as his hand fell lack, his eyes rolling back into his head as I continued my slackened strokes. He gave himself over to the pleasure, staggered breath holding back his desire to loudly groan as he fell under my seductive spell.

“Freddie?” I whispered, earning a dazed, mumbled acknowledgement as if he was both here and not, “get on your back for me.”

He obeyed immediately and without question, running a hand over his face as his mouth hung open in silent exertion.

Smirking, I brought my face closer to his length. My lips kissed his tip softly, evoking a drawn-out sizzled moan to fall loosely from his mouth. I slowly tested the waters, letting the salty taste of him coat my tongue before I plunged his hardness to the back of my throat. His gasping groan finally freed itself from his restrained voice as his fingers clutched my hair, guiding me up and down.

I pushed myself as far as I could go for his pleasure, the feeling of him hitting the back of my throat only stirring me on to be the best he’d ever had.

His breathing became more ragged as he submerged himself under my control, his grip relinquishing as he relished in the feeling of my tongue swirling around him, wanking him off with my lips.

“Love,” he strained through his teeth and I detached my lips, leaving a trail of spit attaching me to his member, “as much as I want my cum to drip from your lips, I’d like to be inside you much more.”

A smile spread across my face, “where would you like me then, Weasley?” A brave power had fallen upon me when I had him under my control but, now, I felt it would slip away from me once Fred's skilled mouth centred on me.

Taking control he wrapped his arms around my waist, flipping us over fluidly before he ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his face quickly. He dragged his thumb over my lips, a lingering touch to show how much he missed them upon him, before dipping his lips toward me. I readied myself to receive another of his long, emotive kisses but found his lips resting next to my ear to whisper a vulgar command, “you better get ready to beg.”

Without warning, he plunged himself into me. Our shared groans filled the air as we finally satisfied our deepest cravings. He rested one hand on my waist and the other reached over me to grip the headboard tightly.

Fred restrained from moving for a few moments to give us time to get used to the new feeling of each other, pulsing in unison from the sheer shock. I yelped once he began to move, causing him to pause a moment before I beckoned him to continue as I assured him it wasn't pain but pleasure that was rocking through my body.

He began to sloppily thrust inside of me, our inexperience shining bright but neither of us cared as we became wrapped in a euphoric cocoon. With every jolt of himself inside of me, he moaned at the sensation and I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming as I relished in the feeling of finally being full by someone I cared deeply for.

“Let me hear you,” Fred panted in my ear, moving both his hands to now rest on my waist to draw me further down onto him, sliding me up and down over and over.

I uncovered my mouth, “fucking he-ll, Fred,” I quipped, stammering as he quickened his pace. I allowed my body to fall under his control, my breasts bouncing as the mattress squeaked underneath us.

He felt so right inside of me and my body became consumed under his pleasurable grasp. His hands squeezed tighter and tighter around my waist, guiding my movements as he slid into me. For every impulsive, too-tight squeeze he littered across my body came the soft brushes of his fingers to ease the small spikes of pain he’d unintentionally brought upon me.

Soon, this pain turned to pleasure as he wrecked my warm core. His length charged hard and fast inside of me, so much so that I could barely keep up. I lost myself in his strokes, whimpering soft moans as my slack body allowed him to have his way with me. The soft slaps of our skin violently intersecting spread throughout the room and it started to drive me insane with animalistic pleasure.

Consumed by thoughts of him and a yearning for his length that slammed so hastily inside of me, my thoughts became hazy as they obsessed over Fred.

His name became a chant, dripping from my lips easier than breathing. I wanted him to hear my complete desire for him more than anything else. What had begun as a whisper, almost like a silent prayer, became a lewd, rhythmic reminder of who was giving me the pleasure I’d craved for so long. Longer than he knew.

Every time his name fell from my lips, his breathing staggered almost with disbelief that this was real - that he was hearing such vulgarity fall from the mouth of someone who, for many years, had been so reserved and shy.

It urged him on, too, the knowledge that my entire being had become fully dominated by him in body and soul, and caused him to show his appreciation for my devotion by slamming hard into me.

“Fu-uck,” he stammered, more profanities falling from his lips as our joint pleasure built more and more.

Lost under his control and the steady, rhythmic pumps of his cock inside of me left me little room to think of anything else. My entire being ached for him - craved his pleasure, wanted to show him how desperate I was. How desperate he made me.

My wet mouth came to absentmindedly swirl around my fingers, my lips hungrily coated in saliva. Moaning Fred’s name again, my fingers left my lips and quickly trailed down to my clit, beginning to steadily play with it to overwhelm myself with greater pleasure.

I perked for a moment at the new sensation but I quickly submitted as I felt intense waves of sensuality jolt through me. My stomach fluttered as, with Fred working in unison with my own fingers, I became overwhelmed with carnality and it transformed the ball in my lower stomach into a burning hot pit which grew with each flick I gratified myself with.

Fred’s breathing, matching mine, became staggered now as he filthily pumped himself into me, “I-Merlin, I’m close, love,” he groaned, straining as he held himself back from the edge we both climbed towards.

“I-I wanna feel you, Freddie,” I begged, “deep inside, I wanna feel you there.”

He smirked, his spare hand stroking down my neck to my chest and, for an agonising minute, all I wanted him to do was wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze.

“Keep going,” he begged, pinching my erect nipple, grimacing as he held himself back from spilling too quickly over the edge.

I hissed as he pinched me hard before I whispered airy begs for his cum to fill the empty, burning chasm inside of me.

I almost choked on my breath as he slammed hard and slow into me, dragging it out further as he chuckled to himself; but it was obvious the thread he hung onto was loose and weakened under our intense passion.

He gritted his teeth with every elongated stroke as he held himself back, I hardly knew how he was handling this, “you’re so worked up all over me, such a little whore,” the venomous words dripped from his tongue easily as if he'd said them about me before in his fantasies.

Slamming into me again, he chuckled at my whimpers, “such an innocent little girl coming awfully undone - would you like to show me how you cum for me? I can tell you’ve done it for me before... I even heard you a couple of those times.”

I unlatched my eyes from his gaze, embarrassed at admitting what he already knew. Shying away from the desperation I craved, needed, in this moment.

His lips dropped, whispering seductively to me, “beg for it, darling. Beg for me.”

My wild, innocent eyes met his hedonistic, darkened ones and I knew then that I was dangerously enraptured under his spell.

It all came to a head, the feeling of being so full driving me so wild that it caused the heat spewing inside of me to bubble over. I didn't care if it made me weak, I wanted him to know that this weakness was all because of him.

I shamelessly began to beg, words falling from my lips quicker than I could control them, “I-I want you to show me what I do to you, wanna feel full of you. Please, Freddie,” I strained harder now, “please I need you. I-I-I,” I could barely hold myself back as his length slid so fluidly inside of me.

He angrily slammed himself as quick as he could inside of me and my eyes rolled back into my head as he pounded quickly.

“Such a good girl, fuck! Scream my name, love… scream it as you cum,” he stammered, finally releasing himself inside of me as pleasure undulated between us.

Overwhelmed with how this new sensation felt, I followed suit as I shrieked his name, my walls pulsating around his length which remained buried inside me as we both came down from our highs.

He remained inside of me as we both attempted to regulate our breathing. It was silent between us, only our ragged breaths and the sweet cream leaking from me remained as a memory of what had just happened.

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #imagine #smut #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter fic #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fangirlishing #fangirlishing smut #fangirlishing fred #weasley #harry potter smut

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woodstockbtswriter · 4 years

Text

Deeper

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Author’s Note: This is one of several stories inspired by these kissing story prompts. This is also heavily inspired by the song Serendipity, and is a tiny bit of a departure from my usual writing style, so I hope you like it! 💕

Prompt: Kissing Jimin in the water because you confess your feelings.

Requested by @bucky-thorin-winchester

Deeper

Standing on the seashore with your toes sinking into the wet sand, you felt like you were balanced on the edge of a precipice. If you took a step forward, everything would change. One step forward, and you would fall. And if you fell, you would eventually land. There was a significant chance the landing would be hard, that it would break you into a million pieces. But there was also a chance that someone would catch you. He was just waiting for you to take that step.

“Are you coming? Or are you going to stand on the beach all day?” Jimin called back to you, already waist-deep in the lapping water. Sunlight reflected off the water droplets on his shirtless, toned back, giving the impression that he was shimmering.

Sighing, you grasped the hem of your coverup and pulled it up over your head. Tossing your garment aside, you lingered at the water’s edge in your swimsuit, still trying to decide what to do.

Jimin was up to his chest now, and was turned around to face you. His eyes were narrowed against the bright sun, but you could tell he was observing you carefully. His penetrating gaze made you feel naked and exposed - body and soul.

With a deep breath, you made up your mind, and took one step forward.

The clear seawater swelled around your ankles, pleasantly cool and refreshing, and you looked up to find Jimin smiling encouragingly at you. So you took another step. And another, wading further and further into the aquamarine depths, hoping with each step that you were in for a soft landing - and that you hadn’t just made a devastating mistake.

As you drew near to Jimin, he paddled toward you, meeting you halfway.

“Everything all right?” He asked, still wearing a smile, but there was a hint of amusement behind it now.

You nodded insincerely, your toes barely brushing the sandy bottom as you slowly kicked your feet, treading water.

Jimin immediately picked up on your mood. He slipped closer, his grin fading as his eyes slowly filled with concern.

“You’re not afraid, are you?”

“Not of the ocean.” You mumbled.

Jimin lifted a hand out of the water, reaching for your face. He touched your cheek lightly, wiping a few drops of saltwater away before lowering his hand again.

“Don’t be scared.” He tried to comfort you. “I’m right here, and I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

You didn’t say anything, and the silence grew heavy as you both bobbed in the gently rolling waves. Jimin was so close, your legs nearly tangled together beneath the water as you tried to stay afloat. He was looking so deeply into your eyes, you felt like he could see right through you.

Jimin’s presence was overwhelming, the radiant beauty of his bare face even more apparent from this proximity. You tried to calm yourself, but each breath you took was shallower than the last - and Jimin’s heavy breathing only added to your difficulty.

After a long moment, Jimin’s eyes finally broke contact with yours, and his gaze traveled down to your mouth. Slowly, the space between you began disappearing, until Jimin’s face was only a hair away from yours. You suddenly realized what he was about to do, but before his gloriously full lips could brush yours, you stopped him.

“Don’t.” You exhaled.

Jimin paused, then pulled back the slightest bit.

“Don’t what?” He asked, his breath warm on your face.

“Don’t get my hopes up.” You replied, sinking down in the water, letting the surface reach your chin.

Jimin smiled faintly, but his furrowed brow betrayed his confusion. He tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

“Don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it.” You clarified.

Jimin scoffed in surprise, his eyes widening.

“You think I would kiss you if I didn’t mean it?”

You shook your head.

“No, that’s not… I’m not talking about how you feel in this moment. Maybe you do really want to kiss me right now but... if it’s only a kiss to you, and nothing more… I’d rather you didn’t kiss me at all.”

The corners of Jimin’s mouth turned down.

“Is that what you think? You think I would kiss you so carelessly?”

“No, not intentionally… I know you never mean to hurt anyone, but…”

“But what?” Jimin asked, his expression so open and innocent it tugged on your heartstrings.

“I have feelings for you, Jimin.” You found yourself confessing before you could think better of it. “Real feelings. I have for a long time. So unless you really mean it, please… don’t kiss me. Because I don’t think my heart could take it.”

Jimin blinked slowly. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper.

“You have feelings for me?”

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.

Jimin touched your cheek again, turning your face to look at him.

“And what makes you so sure I don’t have real feelings for you?” He breathed, the hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Your heart throbbed at his words - and at his touch.

“Because that would be too good to be true.” You admitted, not understanding why your response made Jimin’s smile grow.

“Haven’t you noticed how I light up every time you… every time you look at me? Every time you touch me?” He lifted his eyebrows.

You shrugged, looking away again.

“You act that way around everyone. It’s just how you are.”

Jimin giggled lightly.

“Is it really so hard to believe that I’m in love with you?”

Your breath caught.

“Love?” You checked, when you remembered how to inhale.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled, and he nodded.

“Yes. I’m in love with you. So in love.” He confirmed, color blossoming on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner… Much sooner. But I was afraid you didn’t see me that way.”

Your kicking feet slowed to a stop, and you unconsciously held onto Jimin’s shoulders to keep yourself steady in the water. His hands held your arms securely.

“I’ve always seen you that way.” You told Jimin, sure your incredulity was plain on your face and in your tone. “I thought you didn’t see me that way.”

Jimin smirked, leaning in as he spoke.

“I guess we were both wrong.”

With his eyes falling shut, he let his hands glide across your skin. Wrapping his arms around you, he held you against his body as he lowered his head.

But just as before, you didn’t let his mouth reach yours.

“Wait. Are you sure?” You laid a hand flat on his chest, holding him back. “I mean, if you kiss me… Everything will change between us. There’s no going back.”

Jimin let go of a held breath, his eyes opening.

“I know.” He agreed. “I’m nervous, too.”

Feeling his heart beat forcefully against your palm, you knew he was telling the truth. Your heart was pounding just as much.

“As sure as I am about my feelings, there’s no knowing what the future holds.” Jimin continued, his hands massaging your back beneath the water. “It’s possible we’re better off as friends, and we might ruin our friendship if we take this step.”

You nodded solemnly, the idea of losing Jimin’s friendship causing a knot to form in your stomach.

Jimin carefully removed one hand from your back, churning the water as he moved. He wrapped his fingers around your hand, gently pulling it from his chest.

“But it’s also possible we’re meant to be more than friends. That the universe brought us together. And that thought excites me as much as it scares me.” He said, lifting your arm to place a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

The sensation of Jimin’s lips on your skin made you shudder. You drew in a shaky breath.

“So what are we supposed to do? If we’re both scared, and knowing those are the possibilities?”

Jimin looked into your eyes, sliding your hand behind his neck.

“Just let me love you.” He murmured, drawing near once again, his nose bumping your nose and his breath mixing with yours.

But this time, when he tried to kiss you, you didn’t stop him.

This time, you welcomed Jimin, guiding his face until your mouths carefully connected.

And just like that, your whole world changed.

Though your walk into the water had been a metaphorical step over the edge, this kiss was a running leap. But as you’d secretly hoped, Jimin was right there to catch you. And he was holding on tight.

His arms fully encircling you again, Jimin pressed your lips together tenderly, kissing you slowly and sweetly. Wanting to be even closer, you wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, clutching his neck, and you both sank down until Jimin’s feet touched the ocean floor. The water’s surface covered his shoulders, but neither of you were concerned. You were too lost in each other, your mouths moving together like they were always meant to meet. And when Jimin tangled his fingers into your hair and delicately licked your lips, you opened yourself up to him, inviting the increased passion.

The deeper the kiss became, the deeper you fell, and the farther all your worries and fears fled. Being with Jimin in this way felt natural, effortless, and right - and so amazingly good. His lips were softer and smoother and gentler than you’d ever imagined, and you could feel how he was pouring his heart into showing you how much he meant everything he had expressed. He loved you. He really did. And you loved him, too. With everything you had.

It was true you couldn’t know what the future would bring, but in the same way Jimin pulled you tighter as he kissed you, refusing to let you drift away in the water’s current, you knew he would never let you hit rock bottom. Knowing he loved you, you believed that he would always be there. You trusted that he would ensure a soft landing for you.

All you had to do was brave the fall - and just let him love you.

#bts fanfiction #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin x reader #request #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fics #bts one shot #bts fic #kiss prompt

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hippohead · 4 years

Text

Happy New Year

Pairing: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Rating: General Audiences Words: 2071 Summery: This is a Halloween fic. I promise.

Read it on AO3

- - - - -

The thing about being Rachel Berry’s best friend is, it’s a learned skill.

And Kurt had put in the work. He had looked past the diva-esque antics and the obnoxious Broadway tunnel-vision and the steamrolling, and underneath he had found the Rachel that he loved. The Rachel who would bring him a cup of tea when she knew he was feeling down; the Rachel who pushed Kurt more than he wanted her to but knew he needed it; the Rachel who was kindness and cared – a lot. And it was worth it, for the most part, to have learnt the skill and to have let her into so many parts of himself.

Except for when it wasn’t.

“You’re being pushy,” he warns, and he knows his tone is sharp enough that it would stop most people. Rachel isn’t most people.

“Kurt,” she says just as sternly, swinging around the doorframe of the bathroom so that she can look at him while she continues her delusional lecture, “I just think it’s time that you admitted it.”

He adjusts his cat ears because they’re already giving him a headache. He knows he should have thought of a more original costume idea but time means nothing when he’s juggling NYADA and exams and showcases and auditions and the diner and friends and- god, he’s exhausted just thinking about it all. If all he could pull together for tonight was a pair of black jeans, a tight black long-sleeve, and a pair of cat ears – well, he thinks that’s quite reasonable considering. “There’s nothing to admit.”

Rachel steps out of the bathroom fully now, her makeup finished and her bob wig firmly in place. “How do I look?”

Kurt breathes a small sigh of relief at the change in topic, finally. “You look like the perfect Fanny Brice.” And she does, but the snarky part of him wants to note that she also could have been a bit more original with her outfit. Rachel dressing as Fanny for a costume party? Groundbreaking.

She walks past him, almost dancing, and sings, “That’s because I am the perfect Fanny Brice.”

Kurt sips at the cider that some of Rachel’s older friends from NYADA had left at the loft after their last party and waits for her to come back from her bedroom. By the time she does – a small purse looking like it’s stuffed with emergency night-out supplies slung over her shoulder – he's already feeling a light buzz twirling through his bones. “What time are the others getting here?”

Rachel checks her phone, “Any minute now.” And then, because she’s the worst and unrelenting and incapable of letting anything go, she says, “I think you should tell Blaine that you have feelings for him tonight.”

“Oh my god, Rachel. I do not have feelings for Blaine.”

It’s the easiest lie when he’s saying it to Rachel, because it usually gets her off his back for a little while. There’s something complicated about the lie when he tries to convince himself. And it’s a lie he’d never say in front of Blaine, because saying it in front of Blaine means removing the maybe in their friendship. It would be Kurt clarifying boundaries he doesn’t want and making a possibility disappear that he always wants there.

And so he doesn’t know who he’s pissed off – karma or fate or the stars or whoever it is that controls the strings and the moments and time – because Blaine, Sam and Mercedes have pulled the door open to the loft just in time to catch his last sentence.

His back is to them but he heard the slide, and he glares at a very guilty, meek-looking Rachel. She bites her lips as if that’s an apology and then clears her throat, “Hey, guys!”

“Hey!”

Kurt turns around at Mercedes’ voice, and her eyes are big and wild and trying to communicate things with him that he doesn’t have the ability to decipher right now. She’s dressed as Christina from the Candyman music video, and she’s pulling it off effortlessly. He wants to tell her that but the air feels too weird to speak into. Sam is dressed as some Star Wars character he doesn’t know the name of and Blaine-

“Are you... a pumpkin?”

There’s an odd look on Blaine’s face and Kurt can’t figure it out. He lifts his eyes once he realises that Kurt’s question is obviously directed at him - the only one dressed as a pumpkin - and nods, “Yeah. I am.”

Well, it’s good to know that Blaine can be dressed as a pumpkin and still look adorable. It’s desperately unfair, really. Almost as unfair as the fact that Blaine just heard him rather decisively utter the words, I do not have feelings for Blaine.

Sam clears his throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence that’s settled over everyone. “Should we get going? We’re already going to be late getting to Elliott’s.”

It’s enough to remind everyone that they’re close friends and long past the point of standing in awkward silences, so they bundle up in coats and make their way towards the subway station.

Rachel finds a moment to whisper a quiet, “Sorry,” in his ear once they're on the train. He wants to question her about it – if he was telling her the truth, then there would be no need for an apology. Blaine hearing him say those words wouldn’t be an issue. He wishes she’d just believe him, for once, but then he glances over at Blaine laughing at an impression Sam is doing, a smile growing on his face despite himself, and he realises how transparent he is.

Why doesn’t Blaine?

- - - - -

Kurt is definitely avoiding him.

He’s actually a little impressed. Elliott’s place is on the smaller side, so there’s not a lot of places for Kurt to be where Blaine isn’t. Yet he’s somehow managing to pick the perfect moment to slip to the bathroom, or to claim he needs a little air, or to gesture wildly at his empty cup as he starts to weave his way to the drinks.

“What’s up with Hummel?”

It’s Santana. She’s dressed as Xena Warrior Princess and he’d questioned her about it when they’d arrived – it didn’t seem like her kind of thing, or too stereotypical for her to buy into. She’d set him with an unimpressed stare and said, “It’s Lucy Lawless wandering around with her wife and beating up mediocre men. What about that isn’t my thing?” And, well, fair enough.

“I don’t know,” but he does know. “I think I’ll go see if he’s okay.”

Santana just shrugs, as if her initial question was as far as her concern was going to go, and Blaine starts to move through all of the capes and bright colours and masks. There’s a part of him that doesn’t really want to find him. That means saying things like It’s okay that you don’t have feelings for me and Just your friendship is enough and Let’s just forget about it. The reality is that he wants more than a friendship, but he doesn't know how to risk the friendship to get to somewhere else. And this, this is why he thought they had an unspoken agreement to never clarify what was happening. Because at least if they were living in a limbo that felt sort of hopeful and perfect, the door was closed but not locked.

Tonight, Kurt had keys and he used them.

He finds him in the kitchen by himself, nursing a gin and tonic. “Kurt?”

“Oh.” He looks a little scattered and – weary? “Blaine. Hi.”

It sort of hurts, the way he says that, like he wishes Blaine wasn’t there or looking for him or near him. Kurt’s never sounded like that before. “Can we- can we talk about before?”

He sees the panic move through Kurt’s eyes and almost backtracks, but he can’t do this; can’t exist in the world with things being awkward between them. And he can’t even really understand why they’re awkward. There’s so much unpacking to do about that, but for now he just wants to reassure Kurt.

“Okay.”

It’s a small reply but it’s enough for Blaine. “I don’t really know why things have been a little weird, but I just want to- I don’t know, I guess. Figure out if we’re okay.”

“I lied.”

He’s suddenly very aware of his heart and that it’s in his chest, beating, faster than usual. “What do you mean?”

“I lied to Rachel.”

There’s some sort of plea in his rushed words, like he wants Blaine to hurry up and understand and put him out of his misery. So Blaine tries to hurry up and understand and - "Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Kurt deflates a little and looks down into his drink, “I’m sorry I’m being weird and all over the place. I’ve been trying so hard to be careful with our friendship, and now I’ve just ruined it.” And then, because Blaine still hasn’t said anything and the silence is stretching out in a suffocating way, Kurt says, “Gin makes me sad.”

“I’d be lying, too,” because he’s finally remembered how to speak.

Kurt squints at him, “What do you-”

“If I said I didn’t have feelings for you.”

It takes a moment, but the smile spreads onto Kurt’s face and it’s delicious and adorable and they’re both just standing in the kitchen, looking goofy and happy and risking it all.

“That’s a very stupid and roundabout way of saying- well, I really like you, Kurt.”

Kurt puts his glass down but doesn’t make a move towards Blaine just yet. “I really like you, too. Like, a lot.”

Blaine hums and lets that soak past his ridiculous pumpkin costume – he’s still not entirely convinced that orange is his colour despite Sam’s constant reassurances that it is – and into his skin, bones, being. He decides to be the one to close the gap a bit, moving towards Kurt and enjoying how heavy the air is, how he almost has to wade through it.

“Can I kiss you at midnight?” he asks.

Kurt giggles and it’s silly and Blaine wants to hear it again, and again, and again. “It’s Halloween, Blaine.”

“Mm,” he murmurs, not really sure why Kurt’s clarifying that. They’re both in costumes and there are fake cobwebs covering every surface – of course it’s Halloween. He starts to fiddle with Kurt’s cat ears, “It is.”

“Kissing at midnight is a New Year's Eve tradition.”

“Oh?” and he knows that somewhere in his brain, but he feels like he deserves to be forgiven for forgetting the specific details of which tradition belongs to which holiday because Kurt is very, very close to him and his eyes are sparkling and all he wants to do is kiss him. And so he does, or tries to-

“Wait!”

Blaine pauses, confusion riddling his eyes because were they not on the same page? But Kurt doesn’t move away. Instead, he keeps them in their tight spot together and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. Blaine can’t really see it and he tries to ask what Kurt is doing, but he just gets nicely shushed.

And then, triumphantly, Kurt holds his phone up to show Blaine what he was waiting for – the clock in the corner of the screen clicks over to 12:00 and Blaine gets it. Now he kisses him. It starts off sweet and he tastes like Halloween candy. He’s already addicted to the sugar and he starts to lick along his bottom lip. Kurt gasps a little, opening his mouth for Blaine, and that’s when their bodies shift, too. Kurt’s back is pushing into the bench and he’s trying to worry about whether or not he’s hurting him, but Kurt is somehow getting his hands under the pumpkin’s fabric and sliding at the skin on the small of his back. He’s struggling to find that compassion now when all that matters is kissing Kurt, Kurt's back be damned.

And then suddenly he’s not kissing Kurt.

Because Kurt has pulled away to drag in a breath and there’s an impossible grin on his face and a depth in his eyes that wasn’t there before and it means more, more, more. “Happy New Year, Blaine.”

“Happy New Year, Kurt,” he repeats. And then he laughs because he thinks they’ve just made their own holiday tradition, “Happy Halloween.”

#klainetober #klaine fanfiction #klaine #kurt x blaine #glee #i wrote this!#just something short and sweet because i felt like doing a little something-something

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lastluvbug · 4 years

Note

Oh my god I read the one about Kalim’s suicide after waking up and got emotional all morning. The angst hurts but I can’t have enough of your writings. Can I have a continuation of it, with Kalim’s friends (the second years, the light music club, even Vil) after the whole thing? Like they try to go on with their life but it’s clear that nothing’s the same anymore and they miss the sunshine boy more than they thought they would? Thank you so much!

Toxins (Part 2)

Here we are, love! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Language, referenced suicide

Crying wasn’t like Cater.

But after Kalim’s school-held funeral, that was all anyone could ever see him doing.

Oftentimes, it was silent sobbing into his hands, makeup streaked and runny, hiccups stifled. Comfort did little to provide solace, as he’d simply wipe away the water still leaking from his eyes, smile, and pretend like nothing ever happened. By the outside... it almost appeared as if nothing had ever happened. He was still as camera addicted as usual, still attended class and mingled with his fellow students.

The only difference was perhaps the breaks he had to take between every period, when he’d run to the bathroom to clear his eyes of the built up liquid they’d collected, or maybe it was the way his laughter felt dull, robotic even, or the way he began eating bigger and bigger portions at mealtimes. No one batted an eyelash at Cater when he had to be wrestled out of the mess hall by Trey, who already had himself busy with tending to a Riddle Rosehearts who’d become increasingly strict in upholding the Heartslabyul rules once again.

The serene noiselessness that enveloped the Music Room seemed all but soothing, a vacant memory filled with empty afterthoughts of what it used to be.

Sitting before Kalim’s abandoned drum set, Cater stared at his foggy reflection in the suspended cymbals, inept hands clutching drumsticks that should’ve been used to make a song. Eyes slitted, Cater cried once more, beads of translucent agony dripping onto the forgotten brass.

“...Cater? What are you doing here?”

The ginger looked up stiffly, the lights flicking into action as he made brief visual contact with the last remaining member of his club, Lilia Vanrouge. The shorter tilted his head slightly, standing at the foot of the door, as Cater exhaled a breathy laugh like he’d been so accustomed to doing. “Lilia... I just... needed some time alone, is all. Nothing to worry about.” He grinned, betraying the droplets that formed pretty trails over his visage.

“It’s... It’s about Kalim, isn’t it?” Lilia prodded, voice low as he stepped fully into the room. He didn’t require a reply, as Cater’s sagged shoulders and clutched drumsticks revealed everything he wanted to say. Solemnly hanging his head, Diasomnia’s vice lumbered over to his grieving peer, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not fair...!” Cater wailed before Lilia had even touched him. “Kalim, he’s—he’s not here anymore, and it seems like I’m the only who cares! He was suffering, so much... and I didn’t... didn’t have the brain to see it!”

Lilia’s wide magenta orbs locked onto the weeping boy, whose blood red diamond had nearly been washed away thanks to the water pouring over it. Kneeling, he gripped his shoulders firmly, forcing Cater to meet his stare. “Cater, you can’t blame yourself for this. You couldn’t have known what he was feeling, none of us could. It’s a tragic thing, to have lost someone full of so much light, but you have to understand that—“

“...You don’t get it either... didn’t he mean anything to you people?!” Lilia froze midsentence, his hands pushed away harshly. “Why? Why am I the only one who cries over him?! I didn’t even know him that well... but I don’t want Kalim to be forgotten! I don’t want to wake up everyday, knowing he’ll never speak to me again! Never make music, with these stupid sticks!” He lamented, tossing said drumsticks away, the carved wood skidding across the hard flooring.

Draping his palms over his face, Cater sniffled, Lilia speechless on his knees. Huffing a petulant sigh, the ages-old student spoke quietly, as if afraid to shatter the glass he knew he treaded upon. “Cater, in all my years... I’ve seen my fair amount of demises.”

“H... Huh?” Cater stopped, makeup-blackened tears ceasing as well.

“I’ve had to watch friends, loved ones, even family, fall. Some by the hands of fate, and some by their very own. And thus, I’ve seen how humans react when it comes to such occurrences. You aren’t the only one who cries over the loss of Kalim, I guarantee it.”

“Th-That’s...” He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not true! Riddle does nothing but hole himself away in his room and behead people anymore! You can’t call that coping!”

Lilia stared him in the eye, words frank and pithy. “Cater, tell me, what do you think he does behind those closed doors? Why do you think he’s become so sensitive to even the smallest of mistakes?”

“Because...! Because...” Cater caught himself, finding that he had no answer to retort with. “...I don’t... I don’t know.” He responded after a pause, holding his head in his hands.

“This is Riddle’s way of coping. Kalim was a dear classmate to him, and now, there’s no getting him back. He’s gone, we have to live with that truth.”

“Then what about you?! Why aren’t you reacting at all? Wasn’t he a dear clubmate to you?” Cater shot, voice thick with emotion as he felt the weight of Lilia’s authenticity asphyxiate him.

“Simply because I know that wherever Kalim is now, he’s happy,” he smiled softly, folding his hands in his lap, “I didn’t know that Kalim was suffering so, but now he’s cradled by the arms that come past death. He can finally rest easy, the way he was meant to in the first place.”

Cater looked down to Lilia, glassy eyes widening to see the glittery tears that pooled in the corners of the other’s, a soft smile at his lips. For a split moment, Cater could see no one but Kalim as Lilia opened his arms, amaranth streaked hair and magenta eyes shifting into pure white and candy red.

Hiccuping, Cater fell from the seat before the drums and onto his knees, being carefully pulled to Lilia’s smaller, yet wonderfully soft frame. Hit like a bag of bricks to the stomach, misery stole Cater’s oxygen as he sobbed, clinging to Lilia like a petrified animal.

“Don’t worry guys! We’ll do great at the performance tomorrow!”

“Keep it up, Cater! You sound amazing, just one more practice song!”

“Oh, a picture? I want in! Haha, cheese!”

Kalim’s childish voice echoed in the room, the ghost of a caress against his cheeks making the ginger bury himself under his peer’s chin. He felt as if he’d never forgive himself for overlooking Kalim’s pain, every heartfelt compliment or encouragement from him becoming bland and tasteless upon the realization that they were all empty words, meant to fill him up with false courage.

“Cater, he may be gone, but as long as he stays tucked in here,” Lilia tapped on his head, stroking his messy orange hair, “the magic will keep his memory alive. That’s perhaps the best gift we can give him; the guarantee that he won’t be forgotten. Not as long as you, and I, remember him, right?”

Cater inhaled a quivering breath, nodding as he parted from Lilia’s warm arms. “R-Right...” He nodded, using the back of his hands to clear away his streaked makeup, leaving a smudged mess instead.

“Let’s get you back to Heartslabyul. It sounds to me as if you could use a little conversation with your dorm leader.” Lilia prompted, standing and offering his hand, to which Cater accepted.

“If I must... oh! I need to get those first!” He cried, spinning on his heel and traipsing over to the discarded drumsticks. “I’ll keep them safe for him.” He grinned, earning a sly smirk from Lilia, who now stood outside of the club room.

Joining him, Cater sent a glance over the lone drum set, replaying the times from when Kalim would lean over them with a smile, waving as he entered, guitar strapped across his back. It didn’t hurt any less, but it reminded him that somewhere out there, Kalim was waiting for him, for that day when he’d return his drumsticks.

Switching the lights off, Cater shut the door cautiously, heart simultaneously lifted and sinking as he left, those invisible hands drifting away as he strode farther from the Music Room.

<————>

Treading down the busy hallway felt more like wading through swamp water to Silver, each student seeming to obstruct his path in any way they could.

Heading by the open walled courtyard, the grey haired Diasomnia boy’s gaze softened, looking to the vacant blue sky holding the warm sun as it’s only attraction. Running a finger over the rim of his grasped textbook, Silver sighed out of a brew containing both frustration and awe, feet instinctively guiding him about the corridors as his mind wandered elsewhere.

Every single waking day had been the shining example of a picture perfect storytelling, like something that had hopped from the pages of a fairytale since Kalim’s overcrowded funeral. No rain, no clouds, just the pure sky and the giggling sun.

Silver had half of a mind to call it unfair, for a tragedy to be celebrated and honored with such weather. Though, he had to admit he didn’t know Kalim as well as he wished. The boy had waltzed into and out of his life with alarming ease, both of them sharing the same class together and bonding over their blatantly oppositional personalities. If it weren’t for Kalim’s persistence, Silver probably wouldn’t have even remembered his name, let alone dig himself deep enough to call him a friend.

After his passing, Silver’s academic world just went... dull, following the same drearily tedious routine, and beginning to fall behind in even the most basic of lessons, simply because he found it impossible to keep himself awake for more than five minutes at a time.

Kalim had been the one to help him in class, had been the one to discover how to shake him to consciousness, both physically and mentally. Whenever Kalim was around, Silver wanted to skip his unhealthily long naps, painstakingly addicted to the boy’s light that practically radiated from him, filling any room he set foot in with warm magic.

Now that he laid still, taken by the hand of never ending slumber, Silver felt blank, like he was caged in the perpetual state of an emotional reset that declined progression.

So lost sorting through his muddled mind, Silver nearly fell backwards as he slammed headfirst into something firm, making his eyes water as he rubbed the liquid away, a yawn escaping his throat. “Hah? What’s this?” Growled a scratchy voice, making Silver snap to attention. He came face to face with a brawny Savanclaw lackey, a freakish two heads taller than Silver, the student nearly shrinking into a ball at the murderous glare sent down his direction. “Ah, it’s one of those Diasomnia pricks. What, beating us to a pulp in Magift and trampling over our test scores isn’t enough? Now you gotta own the whole damn hallway?”

“H-Hey, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about... If I could just—“ Silver attempted to reason, trying to get past the wall of muscled students, all bigger and stronger than him.

“You wanna play dumb now?” The other rasped, grabbing Silver by the collar of his uniform and lifting him in the air as he stalked dangerously close. “Listen here, bastard, just because my dorm leader tucks his tail at the sight of you doesn’t mean I’ll do the same! I have no idea who you think you are, but to me, you’re no better than baby cats who yip—“

“Alrighty fellas, that’s quite enough!”

Twisting with what little leeway available to him, Silver found the source of the voice to be Ruggie Bucchi, another member of the beastly dorm. “Ruggie? The hell do you think you’re doing?” The bigger boy barked, tightening his grip on Silver.

Crossing his arms and smiling slyly, Ruggie marched over to him, not an ounce of fear on his baby-face. “Look at him, bud. The poor guy’s practically shaking in his shoes! I think you’ve done enough to scare him, so put him down, you’re tarnishing the Savanaclaw name.”

“Enough? He ran into me! If I don’t threaten him now, then who’s gonna put him in his place later?!”

Ruggie clucked his tongue, floppy ears twitching in annoyance. “Let’s get one thing straight here; you weren’t threatening him, you were aggressively complaining. First, comparing him to a baby cat, which by the way, would be called a kitten, is neither intimidating nor masculine. Second, dangling him in the air like a doll proves nothing more than what you lack in brain, you make up for in brawn, hence why you’re practically a brick wall of muscle. Third, if you’re going to threaten someone, do it properly, you brutish simpleton.” Ruggie smirked, standing on his tip toes as he narrowed his eyes.

“Now, I suggest you tuck tail and scram before you show everyone here that you’re as composed as a bitch in heat.” He threatened, hands on his hips as the animalistic boy’s ears drooped, heeding the maliciously ingenious hyena and dropping Silver, who was close to choking thanks to the constricting pressure on his throat. Legs too weak to stabilize his body, he collapsed in a heap on the ground, textbook flying a few feet away, hacking his lungs out while trying to drink the sweetly refreshing air.

After the roughly uncivilized students scampered off, whispering curses and profanity Ruggie scoffed at, he huffed, bouncing over to Silver and extending a single gloved hand. “Um... you okay? They didn’t hurt you, right?” He asked.

Spluttering into his elbow, Silver took the hand, brushing the dust off of his black school suit and suppressing the yawn that fought to rise in his newly released esophagus. “...I’m fine. Thanks for the save...” He bowed awkwardly, avoiding the shorter’s stare. Without anything left to say, he stood turning away. “See you.” He sluggishly bid, starting to leave.

Ruggie was inches away from letting him go, until he tossed his glance to the floor, noticing the thick book fallen face first a few steps from him. Scooping it up, he flipped through a few of the pages, hoping to find something interestingly personal before returning it to the original owner. What he found was... beyond what he’d imagined.

It was a history textbook, the very first page carrying Silver’s signature, a cursive so intricate, it bordered calligraphy with all of its whorls and intercepting lines. At a glance, it didn’t look anything worthwhile, a few scribbled notes here and there but nothing out of the ordinary. Secrets weren’t revealed until Ruggie flipped to the center of the book, his normally neutral face contorting out of shock and intrigue.

The writing on the edges of the paper, where the fine print of knowledge past left indents and gaps of white space lay, were little notes penned in two vastly different handwritings, one quite obviously belonging to Silver. The other was unrecognizable to Ruggie, but reading the script was what led to him the creator.

“Silver-kun, Silver-kuuuuun! Did you hear what Trein said? I was too busy doodling!!”

“Kalim, you’re going to fail the class if you keep nodding off, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know I know..... but at least I stay awake most of the time!”

“Pssh, so mean, using that against me! Sit with me at lunch today, and maybe I’ll share my notes.”

“Oh! Alright, Silver!”

Ruggie was blown away by the authored conversation he stumbled upon, reminded of the distance growing between owner and eavesdropper as he sent a startled look up from the book. “H-Hey! Silver!” He called, having learned the sleepy Diasomnia student’s name.

The other paused, looking over his shoulder to watch as Ruggie weaved through the river of people, holding out the textbook once he’d managed to stand beside the grey haired. “You dropped this back there... it is yours, isn’t it?” He asked, feigning an ignorance Silver doubted.

“Yes, thank you very much. But... how did you know my name?”

“Eh, you’re from Diasomnia. I bet the whole corridor of people here know your name.” Ruggie waved, almost sweat dropping.

“...If you say so. Thank you for returning my book... I’ll be out of your hair now.” The other sighed, tucking said book under his arm while wearing an expression that simply felt subdued.

“Ah—wait! I’m pretty sure you’re a second year, can I walk you to class? Wouldn’t want to run into someone again, right?” Ruggie wasn’t given a verbal response, only a hitch in Silver’s movements and a mild nod.

With his arms fanned out from his head, Ruggie walked alongside the enigmatic teen, who remained eerily silent, his hazy eyes and apathetic stare giving him the hint that he was lost deep in thought, a thought that must’ve been distasteful. All too altruistically eager to break the silence, Ruggie brought up thr only topic that seemed to occupy anyone’s mind. “So... you were friends with Kalim?”

Silver flinched, directly halting in his tracks, eyes hidden by his overgrown bangs. “W-What... What did you know about him?” He asked, the flow of students never once ceasing around them.

“I... well, other than the fact that he was rich... not much.” Ruggie admitted, fiddling with an ear.

“That’s it? That’s all you knew about him, even as a second year yourself?”

“Wait, how did you—?”

“He talked about you like you were some kind of idol. He talked about everyone that way.” Silver whispered, eyes still hidden. “He was what everyone wanted to be, the only real person here who didn’t carry any ill intentions for anyone. Even that Viper, who used him for what? Years?” He continued, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt.

Ruggie had nothing to say. What could he say? Kalim, to him at least, was a fun acquaintance, a buddy he’d occasionally fall back on for spare change or home cooked meals, of which were made by Jamil Viper, the Viper that Silver was quite obviously placing the entirety of the blame upon.

While drama wasn’t something Ruggie was aiming to stir up, the hyena had to admit... he didn’t find anything Jamil did to be wrong. Kalim had ideas, grand as they may be, but he hadn’t the skill or the focus to execute them, pushing the work onto Jamil and Jamil alone. Ruggie saw no problem with the vice using his talent the way he did.

“I wonder how he feels now... knowing that he’s the one who drove Kalim to such measures. But... I can’t say I’m any better. How could I have been so ignorant...? I may as well have damned him to death too, watching him deteriorate every day. Watching him... fake that cheery smile, and never doing a thing about it.” Silver seemed to be working himself into a craze, hands covering his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, don’t take this on yourself y’know...”

“Why not? Tell me Ruggie, why. Not? My ignorance is what killed him, and now, I have to sit through class after class after class of reminders. Reminders of how I failed my duty to—“

“Geez, you’re annoying,”

“H... Huh?” Silver froze, finally opening his eyes to meet Ruggie’s cheeky grin.

Ruggie offered no explanation as he grabbed a hand, dragging him off through the hallway. “I may not be the best at comforting, and I’m certainly no Kalim, but... I think it’ll be okay. That’s what he liked to say, right? Yeah, he’s not here anymore, but are you really going to let what he believed in die?”

Struck speechless similarly to his rockstar guardian, Silver gaped like a fish out of water, silently allowing Ruggie to pull him along. “He knew there was good in everyone,” Except himself, Ruggie thought, but had the brain to hold his tongue, “he’d want you to move on, to love in his place. This, what you’re feeling now, is the farthest thing from what he wanted. So... you should smile. You can live without Kalim, you’re stronger than that.”

Ruggie stopped, a few steps away from Silver’s designated classroom, holding his clutched hand up as he spoke, smiling gently, like he actually believed the speech he by chance strung together. Still, any excuse for a better hope was a good one to Silver, so, he ducked his head, forcing out giggles that after a minute, ended up too real. “U-Uh... did I say something funny?” Ruggie stammered, eyes wide in confusion.

“No, it’s just—“ Silver let go of Ruggie, lavender eyes shiny with the aftermath of laughter, “—you remind me of him.”

Ruggie flushed, turning red to his ears as he spun away, covering his mouth and pretending to cough. “Y-Yeah, sure, whatever. Come on, let’s get you to class!”

Chuckling, Silver sped up to close the rapidly growing space between them, running a clammy hand through his argent hair. In complete honesty, he meant what he’d said.

Albeit too assiduous and orderly to be a carbon copy, Ruggie held one same trait that so painfully reminded him of Kalim; his confidence. While Kalim was a leader, Ruggie preferred to follow. While Kalim was extravagantly grandiose, Ruggie was self-effacing and simple. While Kalim had dreams of far off lands and magic carpet rides, Ruggie stayed firmly planted on the ground.

But for certain, the one thing they both shared the same substantial confidence to just... be themselves.

And it was that confidence that made Silver wish to cling to Ruggie, protect the light that he failed to do before.

“Oi! Silver! You coming?” Ruggie called hands on his knees as he waved from further down the hall.

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes I’m coming!” Silver smile back, having realized he stood alone in the middle of the passage. Once again dashing to join the hyena, Silver made a vow, a vow that no one would hear other than himself.

“I promise Kalim, I’m not forgetting you. I’ll never forget you. But this time... this time I want to do things right.”

<————>

The rushing of water from the tap was the sole sound in the Mostro Lounge, accentuated only by the brisk chill that followed the lifeless restaurant-esque space.

It’d been that way since morning, the hollow flooring catching the footsteps that walked over it and tossing the sound against the walls, creating an echo Floyd Leech didn’t think was possible, what with the amount of furniture and decor lined about. Switching off the water, and the only audible commotion in the lounge, he tossed himself onto a stool before the polished bar, setting his hat aside as he laid his head within his large, white gloved hands. A sigh escaped him as he threaded his fingers through his deep teal hair, almost feeling as though he was glued to his seat.

Despite the deafening quiet that would blow any normal person’s eardrums out, Floyd closed his eyes, heavy from premature exhaustion, and heard not the empty silence, but instead voices. More specifically, he heard Kalim’s voice; his cheering, the laughs and giggles that seemed reserved for Floyd and Floyd exclusively, even his sobs after he was thrown across the desert by one of his trusted companions.

Swimming through the sea of his memories made his eyes burn with an indescribable solemnity, his hands tugging rather roughly at his hair as the memories grew into a thousand pictures behind his shut eyelids, each of them painting Kalim an angel in all of his bubbly optimism. And while Floyd was naturally agile in water, even he found himself drowning in the sorrow that replaced a past stemmed from charm and delight.

Broken like a hammer through glass, he was all but ripped from the isolation of his over imaginative brain by the doors of the Lounge being thrown open, the conversation of the two welcoming themselves in drifting over to his sensitive ears. He paid them no heed as he slumped on the bar counter, inexplicably cold while heartache whittled away at his chest.

“Ah, Floyd. Jade and I were just discussing, and there’s been an alarming drop in the amount of customers attending— Floyd?” Azul faltered, cutting his debriefing short as he noticed the state of the lithe eel.

Hunched over, head collected in his hands as he carded his fingers through his hair, Floyd looked the model of a kicked puppy, not a trace of his carefree smile on his lips. Beyond confused, Azul turned to Jade, who simply folded his hands and smiled politely, mincing over to his brother.

Jade didn’t need to do too much investigation to find the source of Floyd’s troubles, already knowing full well that the reverse of his brother’s attitude was a byproduct of Kalim Al-Asim’s death. The funeral was what sealed the transformation, Floyd’s laugh disappearing altogether as he turned away from the outside world, whether he was aware of it or not. Most days, he tucked himself away in the Mostro Lounge, polishing the same glass until in could be used as a mirror, or staring blankly into the distance, becoming especially clingy to both Jade and Azul. Any prodding was met with a lackluster response, any attempts to push him towards re-venturing back into the convoluted world of society with dejected refusals.

Sitting in the stool beside the mourning boy, Jade reached out, settling his hand on Floyd’s back as the other jumped at the touch. “Floyd?” He asked, earning his brother’s familiar glazed attention.

“Jade...? Oh, Azul, too... I’m sorry, did I do something wrong~? You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost...” He laughed unimpressively, placid smile not quite reaching his dual colored eyes.

“Floyd, please explain what is troubling you. I hate seeing my brother this way.” Jade pleaded, leaning on a fist as he expectantly stared at him.

“E-Eh? Where’d you guys get that idea from? Hehe, I’m alright, Azul, Jade.”

“No, Floyd, you’re not. As your colleague and friend, I ask that you indulge us on your turmoil.” Azul chimed in at Floyd’s nonchalant display, years of memorizing his roller coaster-like moods revealing the cracks in his façade.

Drooping defeatedly, his smile vanished as he fell onto the counter, tracing imaginary shapes into the smooth marble. “I... I miss him...” Floyd whispered, only audible because of the noiselessness.

Jade perked up, sharing a pitiful look with Azul before rubbing circles onto Floyd’s back. “You’re referring to Kalim, correct?”

The other nodded, sighing heavily as he hazed blankly at the positively reflective surface below him. “It’s—I just can’t... wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone... Sea Otter is gone, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” He said quietly, the sting in his eyes returning as he swallowed thickly.

Azul tipped his hat as Jade’s circles ceased. The passing of Kalim hadn’t particularly affected Azul, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It, at the very least, was supposed to attract more customers, in need of a distraction in the form of fine food and drinks. But for Floyd to have lost his spark... the cogs in Azul’s brain couldn’t comprehend how the two had even managed to become close after Jamil’s overblot.

“I remember,” Floyd started, sliding a thin finger over the edge of the counter, “how he used to laugh at everything. Sea Otter was so energetic~! Always bouncing to and fro, like a hyper little siren. When did... when did that all stop? Why did it all stop? Is it a curse from land-dwellers to feel this way...?” Floyd asked his friends, seeking genuine answers to his inquiries.

“Floyd, what you are feeling is grief. You are mourning over the loss of a... a comrade.” Jade hesitated, speech for once unrehearsed.

“But he was more than a comrade to me, Jade! I didn’t feel so... out of place with Kalim. He embraced the world around him, in all of it’s cruelty, with open arms. I don’t get it! He—he... he...!” Floyd wavered, hand reaching up to prod at his gold eye, which now spilled thin water over the rim of his cheekbones.

He was... crying? Why was he crying? Wasn’t that something said to be impossible for merfolk to accomplish?

“Hey, Azul... what’s this?” He asked with a joyless laugh. “Am I melting...?” He smiled bitterly, the current dribbling down in an irritatingly slow pace.

Not half a second was given to Floyd before he was enveloped by two arms, in all of their lissome strength. Azul couldn’t think of another thing to do; he’d never seen him genuinely cry before. “No, you’re not melting, Floyd.” The hug was stiff, the tallest eel’s hands on the edge of his seat while water scattered about.

“I’m scared, Azul...” he whined, sniffling. Jade flinched, the downright hopelessness of Floyd’s tone striking a place in his heart that nearly brought him to tears as well. “I can’t—I can’t lose you two. I can’t. Please, promise you won’t leave me, like Sea Otter did?” The very thought of being alone was enough to bring Floyd to trembles, was enough for him to toss away his pride as he looked to his brother, his friend.

Moving as swiftly as the flowing waters of the sea, Jade lifted himself from his seat, twining his arms around both Azul and Floyd, most of the focus turned towards the latter. “Don’t be ridiculous. As your brother, it is my responsibility to always be by your side. Always. The death of a friend doesn’t change that, nor will anything else.” Jade soothed, pressing his forehead to Floyd’s.

“Ah, Jade is right. While I may not share familial ties, I believe it is my duty to stay with you two. After all, who else would have the impertinence to stand up to your spontaneity, Floyd? Certainly no one from around here, I’ll say that much.” Azul added, earning a chuckle from the comforted.

“So... it’s a promise then? You won’t leave me?”

“Never,” Jade and Azul replied confidently, successfully sealing off the last of Floyd’s tears as he used his gloves to soak up the excess.

Finally returning the hug with ten times the force, Floyd sighed out of relief. Though, he still felt the incomparable pang of gloom over the loss of one of his companions, the twang was cushioned by the soft words of his near-family, their eager reminder that even if their world was changing, they’d have one another to rely on.

Nothing could replace a life, Floyd knew that eerily too well, but that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t move on. It might take a week, it might take a year, but as long as he still had them to guide him, then maybe the pain would ebb away in a matter of months.

With their promise written across the slate of his heart, Floyd let his laughter splash across the lounge.

Some part of him felt that if Kalim could see him, hear him right now, he’d been laughing too.

<————>

“Roi de Poison, may I come in?”

“Door’s unlocked, Rook.”

Granted access by the curt invitation, Rook welcomed himself into Vil’s room, having returned from yet another rowdy wrangling session of dealing with Epel. The blonde was expecting to see his dorm leader fussing over his presentation, either in the form of reestablishing his blade sharp cosmetics, or redoing his naturally flawless locks. Instead, he was met with a scene that broke his fully enchanted heart, the magical symphony in his ears screeching to a halt.

Vil sat at his elegantly carved vanity, a thick book with yellowed pages flipped to somewhere close to the center spread before him, twisting an equally as golden bottle in his hand while the other tousled his loose hair, free of it’s usual braided crown. What perhaps made Rook double-take the most was the all natural look Vil wore, the tips of his nose and ears dyed an unhealthy red as not a smear of makeup hid the semi-wet trails reflected in the spotless mirror.

“Vil? Fairest, what ever is the matter?” Rook inquired hastily, skidding over to the beauty’s side and kneeling before him, feathered hat temporarily set on the floor while his head of canary hair still rose beyond the edge of the vanity table. “Vil...?”

“Do you know... what this is, Rook?” Vil asked out of the blue, holding the golden vial to the light.

“...If I had to guess, I’d say that would be an antidote.” Rook responded, having studied nearly as hard as Vil on the subject of poisons and cures.

“Correct. This... This is the antidote that could’ve saved him. I could’ve saved him.” Rook could taste the burn of Vil’s self doubt, the blame he took upon his shoulders as he desperately tried to look into Vil’s lavender irises.

“Non, Vil. It’s been said before, and I’ll not stutter when I say it again. You cannot control anyone but yourself. What Kalim did was of his own volition, you could not have done a thing to prevent it.”

“Do not lie to me, Rook Hunt!” Vil shrieked, rattling the table after he slammed his fist onto it. “If it weren’t for the poison I handcrafted, Kalim would be alive right now! If I would’ve chased after him the minute I realized the bottle was missing, then maybe—no, he would not have had the opportunity to use it! It’s my fault this happened, and now the blood’s on my hands!” Vil shrilled, delicate hands concealing his face.

Struggling to create a refute, Rook placed his hat back onto his head, standing to his full height. Circling behind Vil, he stared into the mirror, at the broken beauty who wallowed in the depths of his own despair before him. He loathed seeing Vil in such a state, poise and elegance replaced with a fiery fury aimed at no one but himself. He couldn’t bear to see him tear himself down.

Exhaling quietly, Rook laid his gloved hands over Vil’s, gently prying them away. Picking up a brush, he let it hover above his mauve-and-platinum hair, only setting it down on his scalp when Vil nodded ever so marginally. “Vil, my king, the fairest of us all, it pains me to no end to see you like this. Do you realize how dishonest it is to harbor this blame?” Rook rhetorically asked, noting the way his green orbs locked with purple for a split moment.

Brushing through the last section of Vil’s thin hair, he set the brush aside, peeling off his gloves to instead grab a comb, folding and looping the strands as he continued to speak. “What Kalim did was out of your jurisdiction. Yes, you may have made the poison, but he was the thief who stole it. Yes, you were too late to have realized it was missing, but had you sent me after him, he would’ve drank it before I could save him.” Rook assured, sealing off the crown and moving onto the next area in need of his expertise.

Lifting Vil’s chin with a curled finger, Rook brought a new besom to his eyes, painting on a deep violet shadow over the lashes, of which he diligently extended with top of the line mascara. Having someone else so casually apply his cosmetics made Vil’s shoulders sag as they released their tension, almost leaning into the affectionate sweeps were it not for his budding insecurity.

“How can you say that when it’s quite obviously my fault?” Vil murmured once his vice paused to reach for a shimmery lipgloss.

“Don’t you see? Kalim would’ve found a way to end his life with, or without your assistance. You were just naive enough to fall for his game, and thus, you now hold within you a guilt that doesn’t belong. Mon ange, let this grief go.” Rook finished, capping the gloss and smiling broadly, waving towards the mirror.

Turning to his reflection, Vil did nothing to hide the satisfied grin that formed, appreciative of the effort the blonde-haired hunter was investing to comfort him. “What if... deep down, I still blame myself, at the end of the day?” He asked, twirling a section of his hair around his painted nail.

“Fret not! I shall sing you lullabies until you can rest soundly at night. This tragedy will be a memory far faded after I’m done!” Rook sang, offering a hand as he bowed.

“Alright, Rook...” Vil chuckled, taking his hand and squaring his shoulders as he stood, balancing on his thin heels. “...I hope you will make use of that promise.”

“Anything for you, Vil. Now let us depart for supper, the dorm was ordered to keep their paws to themselves until you arrived.” Rook urged, spinning over to the door. Swinging it open, he gestured out to the hall, smiling. “Shall we?”

“Indeed. Let’s go.” Vil nodded, clicking out as Rook followed close behind.

Kalim still weighed on his mind, the boy’s peacefully shut eyes as he laid in that glass casket forever an image burned into his brain. He made a dire mistake that day, leaving the poison unguarded in his bathroom, even just creating it in the first place, but Rook helped Vil realize a truth that eased the sting, if only lightly.

He hadn’t known Kalim well, the first full conversation between them only occurring the day of his demise. Part of Vil found solace in the fact that Kalim’s death was quick, a brighter alternative to anything else Kalim would’ve attempted. The other part wept for what his knowledge of poison brought, the pain he’d inflicted on not only Kalim, but the rest of the school in tandem.

Still, holding his head high, Vil wasn’t going to let the suffering crumble him. Antidote clenched in a fist, Vil dropped it in his concealed pocket, the vision of elegance and poise.

Though he may have had a hand in Kalim’s downfall, he wasn’t going to let himself make a foolish mistake like that again.

<————>

Kalim Al-Asim’s death did not come in an ear piercing bang or an uproarious festival. It came not in sweet whispered nothings or love brimmed words. It came not as peaceful or soothing, but by preference spotlighted with nothing except a dark room, a clear night, and the whitest moon the sky had to offer.

Time had been at fowl play, some days passing within the sound snap of a finger, and some lasting for aeons painted in dull colors of anguish and shame. The people were mortified by the discovery, even more so to find that the act hadn’t been committed by the sinful nature of another, but instead the self destructive hatred of himself. Blame had been a projectile, shot into anyone who even held his name inside the confines of their brain, running amongst them like a smooth stone over a pond of ice until there was no one left to terrorize.

The wayward mechanism of coping bore down on everyone, weighing them with ten thousand pounds of a hopelessness they could neither hide nor run from. At their darkest hour, the entire venerated school of Night Raven College was brought to their knees by the passing of optimism personified, their trust a fractured knife used to stab skepticism and condemnation into the hearts of anyone who dared raise their bowed heads.

But even the dark of night must soon come to an end, the sun of a new day bringing a dusk painted in the hues of resumption over a horizon of black. It started with an idea, a finicky thought that grew until it could no longer be held within the sole mind of the creator, escaping from a pair of lips upturned in a rare smile that shortly spread to the listeners.

The idea spread like a contagion, from one to another, dorm to dorm, student to teacher, until every person shared the unison objective, some setting upon a laborious work to meet the desired outcome. Tirelessly, the students used the extents lf the gifts bestowed upon them, whether that be the farthest reaches of magic, or the unique skill to create banquets of delectable food.

It was far from a single day job, many returning to their rooms with sore muscles and blistered hands, the only thing driving them through their hard hours being the vision of the payoff come the conclusion. The prize of their exertion was a spectacle even a stranger would find extraordinarily echanted.

On a pedestal above the normal person’s head, crafted from the best brass up for the taking, stood a perfect recreation of Kalim Al-Asim, each detail scrutinized by the expecting eyes of none other than the mourning Jamil Viper.

Though he took it upon himself to mold the finer minutiae, he accepted every numerous offer of assistance with the bulky creation of the base, sending out handwritten thanks to each participant. Using too many sleepless nights, Jamil poured his strength, his breath, his heart into smoothing out the edges, refining the statue until it looked so real, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it up and moved.

The unveiling had been as palatial as Kalim would’ve wanted it to be; Jamil planning and throwing a celebration that welcomed nearly every resident of the campus, brandishing and explaining the statue in a way that made even Mozus Trein’s heart of steel melt.

Still... standing before it felt surreal, almost sorrowful. Dressed in his dorm garb and clutching his signature staff in his left arm, he waved out to the Scarabia he protected with his free one, a broad smile swelling his cheeks, eyes wide and curious. It had been the students’ choice to place him at the entrance of their dorm, believing Kalim’s face a fitting first sight upon entrance.

Drenched with gold in the early morning light, he smiled angelically as a lone figure knelt before the pedestal, hand tracing over the plaque carved into the stone base.

“I hope... I hope this did you justice. It was all I could give you for now; I know it’s not much, but this way, your legacy will carry on.” Jamil whispered, laying his forehead on the smooth metal.

Though he may not live to see it, Jamil wished with the very power of his soul that Kalim’s statue would last a lifetime, perhaps even longer as he stood and left, the words engraved finally visible:

He who breathed laughter,

He who stood proud,

He who was strong as the current of the ocean.

In fond memory of Kalim Al-Asim, the light in a world of shadow.

May we all discover the same strength he held.

Oki dokes! I didn’t originally plan for a continuation, so it took a little long bit to spark my ideas.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! Special thanks to @lionheartanotheraccount for the request!!

Stay lovely!

#twisted wonderland #twst #kalim al asim #angst #cater diamond #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #ruggie bucchi #jamil viper

157 notes · View notes

georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Rules For Falling In Love: #1

summary: In which George wants to get married. But... you're not dating. Why should you say yes?

a/n: Here it is I'm obsessed with this concept my dear friend thought up, so much so that I was inspired to write this multichapter fic about it all. Please let me know if I forgot to tag anyone, or if you'd like to be added to the list! And as always... feedback of any and all kinds are greatly appreciated!

w/c: 2k

Part 2 >

───※ ·❆· ※───

"Don't be a third wheel, come on now!" Dean's publicist shooed him away from where you stood next to George, counting down the seconds till the red carpet came to an end. You gave the guy a quick, twisted frown, as George's publicist pulled him further down the carpet, his hand holding on to yours, silently bringing you along.

This was just another normal Friday evening.

When the time came to flood into the award ceremony, you sighed in relief and reached for a drink from the tray of a despondent boy meant to stand right where he was for most the night.

"Don't you have any place better to be?" Dean laughed your way, thanking the waiter for the drink he swiped.

"We were going to go bowling." You shot George a look. You'd only made the plans as a joke, wondering how much shit either of you would get for ditching this stupid ceremony to go have a bit of real fun. But you'd made a promise to George long ago, to attend all these silly little Hollywood shindigs with him.

"And we will go bowling if we make it out of here alive" George declared with a nod, leading you toward the row of seats with your names on them. He hated these events almost more than you did. He insisted your presence aided to quell his anxieties these circumstances stirred up. And you couldn't tell George no, very often.

"If one of you ever did one thing without each other, I think hell would freeze over." Dean chuckled as you all settled into your seats. You looked to George again, and he looked to you and you both laughed, but Dean was probably right.

After the awards had been given out between long, sometimes painful speeches, the boy's publicists insisted they linger around the after-party for as long as they could manage. You kept your usual pace in between them, cackling over stupid old jokes and offering forced toothy grins to celebrities who asked if they could steal George away for photos and chats about the magic of acting- or whatever.

"You know, no one has even ever asked about us." You pointed out to Dean, sharing a piece of cake in the quietest corner of the party. "Showbiz people I mean. They just assumed right away. Even the times we've insisted we're only friends, they insist we're joking." You huffed a laugh.

"That's Hollywood for you, I suppose. But you've gotta admit... you and George-"

"Are just friends." You finished. Dean halted, smiling in agreeance to drop the subject, but clearly held back from stating his other points, whether they were valid or not.

After one too many sweets and drinks, George found you and informed his sister was on her way to give the two of you a lift home. You traded a few hugs with Dean, making rough plans to meet up again very soon, without all the cameras and microphones in the way.

///

"How was your date, then?" George's sister wondered as you clamored into the back of her car. George followed behind with an answer.

"It wasn't a date, it was work thinly veiled as fun."

"But you went together, which makes it a date."

"Nice try," You rose a finger, buckling in as the girl sped off toward the city streets. She'd always found sly ways to get you and George to admit there was something deeper to your connection. She'd introduce you to her friends as her brother's girlfriend. She'd address Christmas presents to the both of you, handing them out with a wink.

"I don't understand you two." She dramatically croaked now, as if your denial was her personal defeat. "You're catfishing the world!"

"We're not pretending to date." George reminded his sister, "And we're also not pretending we don't live together."

"Yeah so why aren't you dating? You do everything else together."

"We live to torment you. It's all to drive you mad" George falsely confessed.

"I wouldn't put it past you." His sibling let out a whine.

You and George shared a roll of your eyes, dulling snickers and exhausting explanations that weren't worth wading through. The midnight ride to your flat fell silent then. The night had been long, but it was a seemingly usual evening, these days.

By the time you and George shuffled up the drive, waved his sister goodnight, you were ready to forgo your usual routine and drop face-first into bed.

"I think my sister has a point," George mumbled, shutting and locking the front door.

"Hmm?" You encouraged George to go on, halfway in tune to listen, more so gearing up to head to bed after such a long evening out. George remained silent as you kicked your shoes off, and didn't speak again until he had your undivided attention.

"Let's get married," George said.

You tossed your head back in a laugh as you floated further into your shared home.

"I'm serious, y/n." George hurried along, moving to stop you from walking away, boring his sleepy eyes into yours.

"What?" You chuckled again, shaking your head, trying to keep up.

"We already live here. We've been talking about sharing a bank account. And it'll be so much easier to introduce as my wife than as 'my best friend who I live with but am not dating but go everywhere with.'"

"But that's the truth!"

"Marriage could be true! Think of how much easier life would be."

"George, how much have you had to drink?" You cackled as you pushed past him, into the kitchen for a glass of water. You clattered about the cupboards as he followed you, rambling still.

"I'm serious! We've planned out our lives together already. Future vacations, birthday parties, career deadlines, all accounted for with each other in mind. We should just get married."

"George! I will not let you lie at the altar. A wedding is for two people who want to commit every bit of their lives together for the rest of the foreseeable future."

"My plans for the weekend are always to ask you what you want to do the next. I'm your only emergency contact." George listed off these points as if they were dead giveaways.

"Okay, let's say we get married." You entertained, standing in front of George as he noshed on some deserts he'd brought home from the after-party. He raised a pretty brow, waiting for you to go on.

"Sure nothing changes at first, not really. You're already my ride to work, and I already promised to go to all those silly Hollywood parties with you. But what happens in five years when I want to move to France and you want to stay here? What happens in six months if some super hot mailman comes and sweeps me off my feet? What happens when you fall in love with some leading lady, George?"

"People get divorced all the time." He shrugged.

"That's a lot of money to blow. And for what? For a lousy label and some ugly rings?"

"So we pick out some bloody cool rings and promise to only get divorced if shit hits the fan. Neither of us can stay mad for long. Remember when I spilled wine on your great grandma's old lounge chair? I was fully prepared to be excommunicated. But you just hugged me while you cried." George chuckled, keeping his desserts close.

"Do you really wanna kiss me in front of your mother and the world and pretend that this is normal?" You tried to ask with a serious glare, but it was just too funny. You couldn't help but let out a little giggle of disbelief that this was the conversation you were having on an otherwise normal weekday evening.

"Y/n, we're practically already married."

"George I love you, but this is a stupid idea."

"I don't think it is, but I love you too. I'm taking this box of macaroons to bed, now."

"Okay goodnight you two." You laughed, pulling at the sleeves of your too-tight dress on your trek down the hall.

"Wait!" You called out, a few steps from your room. "Can you unzip this, please?" You took a few backward steps to meet where George had stalled in the hall, macaroon halfway in and out of his mouth, he balanced one hand on your shoulder and used the other to undo the zipper that hugged your spine.

"G'night!" You heard him mumble past his dessert as you gave him a wave of thanks and practically threw yourself into your nice warm bed.

///

You met George when you were kids. You grew up attending the same local festivals and schools. His acquaintance turned more familiar with each passing summer until you'd become rather inseparable. It was that fact that kept his number in your contacts when you moved to the city, and he went away to film more often.

You'd kept up lunch dates when he came back home, and celebrated holidays with his family every time they invited you to come round like they'd been doing for years. You'd even attended a few birthdays and dinner parties with his family when George was out of town, when you hadn't spoken with him in months.

You moved in with George some odd years ago, when the flat you rented threw one too many unfixable issues your way. His home was the closest to your work, and he was one of the only friends you trusted enough to reach out to for help. After occupying his guest room for a few months, George insisted you move your things into the place you'd already practically been living in.

His home was big enough, tucked away just outside of the city. It's high ceilings, warm decor and a manageable rent were easily and comfortably split between the two of you. It made sense. You'd been sharing most of your free time together for years, anyway.

You shuffled through the bright halls, past framed photos of George's family. Of you and George. There was no difference, you'd been close for so many years, your lives were complexly intertwined whether you liked it or not. Luckily, you did.

George was already in the sun-drenched kitchen when you entered, stretching into the new day.

After trading usual morning greetings you could practically hear George's silent, burning thoughts. He poured you each a cup of coffee and shot you a look you knew was meant to say much more than words could.

"Okay, what?" You asked in a warning tone, accepting the drink he placed before you at the table, before sitting in the chair at your side. You knew George had something to say, and he'd say it whether you asked him about it or not.

"My mum thinks we've been dating since Uni. You know we can't talk her out of it. If anything she'd be relieved."

Oh, he was really still hung up on this huh?

"So you wanna do this because of your mother?" You asked, watching the steam curl up from the drink between your hands.

"No. I wanna do this because being together officially would make all our being together anyway, so much easier. Bills, plans, excuses, rainy days."

You looked at George, his start blue eyes, his unkempt hair, that stupid withheld smile he got when he was focused on something. You loved him for longer than you had the patients to do the math for. You planned on loving him for a while, even when he pissed you off, you couldn't imagine struggling alongside anyone else...

"Earth to y/n."

"I'm not responding because you're starting to make sense and I don't like it." You pretended to pout. Then George went silent for a beat, his brilliant eyes searching your face.

"Do you still want to go bowling?" He pipped up as if he'd just remembered you'd said something about it a day earlier.

"Sounds fun, doesn't it?" You asked, hoping he'd join you in wasting a day having childlike fun. George bit back a grin, leaned in close to catch your eye, and said,

"If I win... we'll get married."

You wanted to curse his name through a laugh, but you very rarely could tell the man no. And you hated to admit it even to yourself, but the more you thought about it... the more you liked the idea.

"And if you win?" George mused, egging you on. But you didn't need to place bets to play.

"Let's go bowling, Mackay."

///

As you took turns knocking pins down, George brought up several valid points.

How his family adored you. How he'd drop anything to be there for you when you needed him. How you'd always talked about how scary the future seemed, but agreed it was better to face together, like always.

And you argued for a moment that maybe neither of you knew any better, how you were all each other knew since growing up.

But George pointed out that simply wasn't true. He'd traveled. Met girls, none of whom were around at all anymore. You'd dated and failed to find anyone worth keeping around. It was as if you and George were the survivors of some twisted game of life, having only managed this far because of how you relied on each other.

But you weren't on the same bowling team.

You were scoring strikes left and right a few solid points ahead in the game.

But George was close to beating you, one good turn and he'd wind up the winner.

All the while, George only stalled his passionate speeches to listen and laugh over yours. And as you considered how familiar his presence was, and the way you couldn't imagine living life any further apart, you'd made up your mind.

But every time you thought of voicing your decision, something stopped you. You bit your tongue and decided that you'd wait to see if your feelings changed soon. And after some serious thought, you could either tell George that you'd hate to let him down, but plan a movie night alongside his favorite dinner, to make up for your decline. Or you'd tell him yes, and agree to his stupidly sweet idea to get hitched. Because you couldn't tell him no.

He won the game.

But of course, George wasn't living and dying by the bet he made that coaxed you to play. And you never really agreed to it anyway. The two of you simply went on arguing on the way home, more or less about how you were on the same page, and just what to do next.

And while you made dinner together, your conversation stopped when you sucked in a big breath and spun on your heels across the room. You'd heard enough.

George raised a pale brow, sitting patiently at the table as the oven did its thing. Then he watched as you settled back to the seat across from him, placing a pad of paper and a pen down.

"If...we do this, I'm writing down rules."

George watched on, sipping tea as you scribbled away. Once you felt comfortable with the list of regulations you'd penned, you read from the marked-up note pad, one at a time.

"Okay, listen up..."

MARRIAGE RULES

one. No lying to family and friends. They get to know that this isn't conventional.

two. No lying to each other. We're only doing this to make things easier. We must remain every bit a team.

three. We must celebrate our anniversary because there's no point in not milking the chance to go on holiday.

"Now," You flipped the page to a new set of rules before George could go on smooth-talking.

DIVORCE RULES

"We can only get a divorce under dire circumstances. Which include the following..."

one. If we betray each other's morals or trust in a way that cannot be fixed or forgiven after a year's time.

two. If one of us is dying. Actively dying.

three. If one of us finds and falls in love.

"We've managed to work out all the bad shit together so far and I'm sure we can keep that up. A divorce is too much money to waste over one fight we end up resolving and remain otherwise together."

"So you'll do it?" George grinned, setting his drink to the side.

"Is this you asking me to marry you? It's very unromantic. Negative three out of ten." You laughed, George did too. But you needed to make yourself very clear.

"I'll think about it." You clarified. "You should too."

You’d tell him yes later. Because as much as it scared you... you'd already made up your mind.

───※ ·❆· ※───

taglist: @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @andux @imaginationandlove @velvetgoldsilver @queen-bunnyears @maria-josefin @dearevansamham @belledamsceno @nilletellsstories @haileymorelikestupid @loulouloueh @visionsofmelodrama

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

119 notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

More Than Words (Final)

See end of chapter for notes AND a post credits scene! (or the book version of a post credit scene? Anyway, stay tuned)

COMPLETED MASTERLIST HERE

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

One Year Later

“All I’m saying is, I feel like we shouldn’t have to cross international boundaries to see our friend.” Gwen took a hand off the wheel and felt around the backseat for the Costco-sized container of chocolate covered raisins Harry was trying to hoard. “Isn’t there big trees on this side of the border? Pete and Wade couldn’t have settled down under the old Stars and Stripes? I shouldn’t have to renew my passport for this!”

“Stop trying to steal my food and watch the road.” Harry slapped the other Alpha’s hand away. “There’s moose up here and I don’t really want to meet one face to face.”

“There’s no moose in Canada.” Johnny snorted. “That’s only an Alaskan thing.”

Silence in the car as Mary Jane and the two other Alphas swiveled to stare at Johnny in disbelief, and then MJ cleared her throat and grabbed the wheel when Gwen swerved. “Anyway, I think it’s sweet that Peter is literally willing to move countries to be with his mate. And as far as crossing international borders? Gwen we’re only fifteen minutes into Canada, I could just chuck you back over to the States if you are really so bothered by it.”

“Pete says the only reason they chose Canada is cos all the land on our side is protected.” Harry chimed in. “Guess the government doesn’t really like people building cabins on national forest land and calling it theirs.”

“Yeah, well it cost me five hundred bucks for my passport so Peter better make this a hell of a visit.” The female Alpha finally snagged the raisins and crammed a triumphant handful into her mouth. “I expect room and board, three square meals a day and a spending allowance.”

“You realize they live an entire hour from the nearest town, and the nearest town has one grocery store and one restaurant, right? What are you planning on buying with your spending allowance?” The Omega grabbed the wheel again and cried, “Gwen! Eyes in the road! You are a terrible driver!”

“Complain all you want, but since Harry didn’t want to bring his fancy new car up to the boonies of Canada, it’s either my adventurous driving or twelve hours in a bus.” Gwen retorted. “Quit bitchin’ and use the seat belt, that’s what it's for. Johnny, who are you texting? Do you even get service up here?”

“Texting Pete to let him know if we don’t make it up for dinner it’s cos Gwen launched us off a corner and into Canadian Lake Eerie.”

“Really?” Harry waggled his eyebrows. “Not gonna say we hit a reindeer or something?”

“Very funny.” Johnny scowled at them. “Reindeer aren’t real, s’not like we’re gonna run into Rudolph up here.”

“...he is twenty six years old.” Mary Jane whispered and Gwen snorted a laugh. “Twenty six! It’s a good thing he’s hot and treats me right during heat cos wow. Just wow.”

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

“Alpha my Alpha?” Peter hurried out of the cabin in search of his mate, reading through a text from Johnny with one hand and trying-- and failing-- to button one of Wade’s flannels over his shoulders. “Hey, Johnny says they’re about twenty minutes out from the cabin. Oh, he also says that Gwen is a terrible driver and uh--” the Omega grinned. “--he wants to know if reindeer are a real thing because MJ won’t quit laughing at him about it.”

“I missed most of that.” Wade set a bale of hay down in the corral and clicked his tongue at the horses before turning back to his mate and letting his eyes slide red as he looked the Omega over. “What are you wearing, Pete? You know m’not gonna let you wear that around your friends. Go change.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.” the Omega countered primly, nose in the air and fully aware of why his Alpha had something to say about his clothing choices. “I am completely covered and not showing more than a few inches of skin at my neck.”

“Pete.”

“You know, you’re lucky I think your old fashioned ‘no one sees my mate but me’ mentality is cute.” Peter bit his lip to hide a smile when the Alpha huffed at him. “I don’t want anyone seeing me but you, either. But there’s no reason for me to change clothes right now. I’m covered and I’m comfortable and I’m--EEK!”

He yelped when the Alpha yanked him up close and they were suddenly nose to nose, red eyes to dark brown that flickered playfully gold. “Wade! Let go!”

“I’ll let go when you promise to change into something that isn’t one of my shirts half open over somethin’ so pretty.” Wade undid one of the buttons so he could see the lacy, croppy top camisole his mate had been wearing all morning. “You tryna make me crazy, mate? Really want your friends to show up and see you stuck on me cos I can’t keep my hands off you lookin’ like this?”

“Oh, are you gonna knot me up in fifteen minutes?” Peter challenged. “Do you think I’m that easy, Alpha?”

His Alpha growled, low and pointed and hungry and Peter giggled in delight, scrunching his nose and budging close to rub against his mate teasingly. “Tempting, my love. And I suppose I am that easy for you. But what if I wear the shirt buttoned all the way up so no one sees the lace?”

“And pants. You have to wear pants.” Wade ordered and the Omega conceded, “And pants. Won’t run around in just your shirt and no pants. I promise.”

“Thank you.” In the year since officially mating, Wade had gotten more outwardly possessive of the little Omega, making sure Peter wore his ring all the time, making sure shirts were always cut low enough to show off the silvered mating bond, insisting that Peter wore his clothing so the Omega would scent like lavender and honeysuckle and him.

Sometimes Wade apologized for his behavior, like when they’d gone to the store and another Alpha had looked Peter over and Wade snarled loud enough to make the cashier scream. Other times like now, he didn’t apologize at all, only wove his fingers into Peter’s hair and directed the Omega close for a tender, claiming kiss that didn’t let up until his mate was clinging to him and purring softly against his lips.

“You’re mine, sweetheart.” he rumbled and Peter automatically turned his head so show off his silver mark. “All mine. Every inch of you.”

“Every inch of me.” Peter promised. “Yours. Always.” and then with a hesitant smile. “But um-- what if you had to share some of me with someone else? Maybe-- maybe most of me? How do you feel about that?”

And before his mate could snarl at even the thought of sharing, the Omega rushed to finish. “It would be someone tiny! And you know… diaper wearing?”

“Diaper wearing.” Wade repeated. confusion written across his face. “What does that mean, Pete? What are you talking about?”

“It means that uh-- well it means this.” Peter reached for his Alpha’s hand and pressed it on to his own stomach, eyebrows raised and expression uncertain as he waited for Wade to figure it out. “Get it?”

It took the Alpha another moment to put two and two together, the notion of this sort of thing so foreign and for so long an impossibility that Wade cycled through at least four different possible scenarios for why he was trying to feel the Omega’s stomach. Did Peter have a tummy ache? Was he craving something odd and didn’t want to say it out loud? What did weird cravings have to do with diapers? Was he putting on more weight? Cos that would be good, Peter had been too skinny for too long and Wade loved when his mate was soft all over.

But none of those things would make his little mate nervous, none of those things even mattered in the slightest so why...

“Omega.” the truth burned into the Alpha’s mind, his scent twisting first in disbelief and then in hope, eyes flickering red and hazel as his heart beat an out of control pattern. “Peter. Are you sure? Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Peter admitted, both relieved and thrilled when his mate hit the ground on his knees and gathered him up close, the Alpha practically purring as he nuzzled into his mate’s stomach. “It’s still too soon to tell and really, it’s just a feeling I’ve had since my last heat finished up. Too soon to tell, it might not be anything.”

“But you think it is something.” Wade muffled the words against Peter’s navel. “Right?”

“You said you and Vanessa never could have kids.” The Omega tracked gentle fingers over his mate’s scalp, down the Alpha’s neck to the bonding mark. “But time travel changed your biology and your mutation and now you get to grow old with me, so I thought maybe-- maybe everything else changed too? Maybe? And lately I’ve been feeling different so I thought maybe--”

“This is something you want?” Wade interrupted anxiously. “Is it? Cos in Haven you said you hadn’t ever thought about having a family.”

“I hadn’t ever thought about having a mate either, but here we are.” Peter soothed his Alpha with a quiet trill. “And I’m happy, my mate. So if this feeling ends up being something real, then I’ll be happy about that too.”

Wade looked up, wide eyed and hopeful. “Yeah?”

“I also think if this ends up being something real then you’ll have to start whittling toys again.” the Omega’s lavender scent burst with happiness when Wade grinned in excitement. “We’ll need lots of toys, don’t you think?”

“Hundreds.” the Alpha answered promptly and Peter laughed at him. “We’ll need hundreds of toys. And a crib. And a bed for when they get bigger. And another room for the cabin and--”

“Easy does it, my love.” Peter shivered when the Alpha pushed his shirt up and scraped feather soft fangs in a possessive kiss at his tummy. “We don’t even know for sure yet. This might be nothing at all.”

“How long until you’ll know?” Wade demanded and Peter did some mental math before answering, “Another couple weeks? A month at the most, I think.”

“It will take me that long to pick out the wood to use for the crib.” Wade decided, then stood and gathered his Omega into a long kiss. “Thank you, my mate.”

“For what?” Peter tipped his head so his Alpha would mouth over his bonding mark. “What did I do besides get ridiculously needy during my heat and not let you outta me until you were ready to beg for mercy?”

“My god you’re romantic.” the Alpha said dryly. “When you talk like that it warms my heart, Pete. Glad you see our heats together in such beautiful terms.”

“I am romantic!” Peter laughed through another kiss and asked again, “Why are you saying thank you, though? You came a hundred and fifty years into the future to find me. You stayed with me in the city while I adjusted all over again. We decided to move and you built me a cabin and all the furniture inside then let me buy whatever else I wanted to sort it out. We have polka dot plates, Wade. You let me buy polka dot plates and let me name both our horses and each of the the chickens and then you let me get a bunny and promised it wouldn’t end up as Stew.”

The Alpha grinned and Peter stood on his toes to whisper, “But beyond all that, you showed me what true love and soulmates were. Why are you saying thank you to me?”

“Cos you’re my whole world, Pete.” Wade answered simply, rubbing slow circles over his mate’s stomach. “My entire world and then some. Whether this is a feelin’ or not, whether I need to start building a crib or not. Thank you.”

“I’ll accept your thanks on one condition.” Peter said seriously, and started to undo the buttons at his shirt again, baring the lacy camisole and a whole lot of skin. “Is your offer for fifteen minutes still good or….”

“Nope, cut that shit out!” Clint landed with a thump in the yard, wings flared out wide to counter balance the weight of his Omega in his arms, and thoroughly derailing their moment. “You don’t invite us for food and then start humping right here in the yard. That is not the neighborly thing to do!”

“I thought the whole point of us bein’ by the river was that we didn’t have neighbors.” Wade retorted, pushing Peter slightly behind him so the other mated pair wouldn’t see him half dressed. “Maybe you show up on time and you won’t see anything you aren’t meant to.”

“Maybe you don’t try and strip your mate down right here in the wide open where animals and God and the entire world can see. Ol’ Eagle Eyes here spotted you from a mile up.” Logan watched in open adoration as his Alpha’s wings folded away then turned to grin at Wade. “How’r’ya neighbor?”

“Would’ve been better in about fifteen minutes.” Peter grumbled and Wade chuckled at his mate, wrapped an arm around the Omega’s waist and hauled him in close. “Oh my Alpha says I should warn you guys about my friend, Mary Jane? I mean, I should warn you about all my friends because they are all terrible but MJ will definitely stare and probably get all horned up for Clint’s tattoos and Logan you-- you scent wild and she barely keeps it together around Wade. honestly good luck with that one, okay? You’ll have to pry her off with a stick.”

“I hate teenagers.” Logan grumbled, and Peter corrected, “Oh no, they’re all my age, later twenties. Just um-- just terrible. We are all terrible. Be warned.”

“Oh great, sounds like a real fun afternoon.” Clint vaulted the corral fence to pet at the horses, crooning softly to the beasts before asking, “Wade, you got something alcoholic in there? Strong enough to survive a day with a bunch of twenty somethings?”

“I’ve got moonshine and tequila.” Wade confirmed, motioning the other Alpha into the cabin with him. “Come on. My mate, do you want anything?”

“Just some water, Alpha.” Peter called and Wade’s smile was private and hopeful and so so sweet it almost sent the Omega to his knees. “Th-thank you.”

He turned back to Logan and immediately backed up a step when he saw the big Omega advancing on him. “Logan? What are you doing? Hey--!” Peter yelped when Logan crowded right into his space and stuck his nose under his jaw. “Logan! Stop!”

“You told your mate about the baby yet?” Logan pulled away, eyes flashing in a curious mix of anticipation and awe. “Is that why you asked for water instead of liquor?”

“We um--we don’t know anything for sure yet. Wade hasn’t noticed a change in my scent yet and it’s too soon to tell with a test.” Peter rubbed at his neck awkwardly. “And by the way? The whole half animal hardcore scenting thing isn’t any less weird even though we’ve been neighbors for a while now. Don’t do that any more.”

And then quieter, “Did you scent anything for sure?”

“Might just be leftover heat hormones.” Logan waved the question off. “But it sure seems like more t’me. How did the big guy take it? Did he faint? Do you have video of it I can watch on repeat?”

“I just said we don’t know for sure!” Peter tried not to laugh at the mental picture of his stalwart mate fainting away about a baby. “And we aren’t saying anything to anyone else, so please? Not in front of my friends? You can tell your Alpha but--”

“Clint scented it on you the minute we landed.” Logan pulled out one of those ever present cigars and lit it up. “Guarantee he’s buggin’ your mate about it right now. Congratulations.”

“Wade’s biology and mutation means it might not even be an option.” the Omega pointed out softly. “So we can’t get our hopes up yet.”

“Time travel, kid.” Logan scoffed. “You came to the past, Wade came to the future, you’re hanging out with an Omega who will literally live forever and an Alpha with magic sparkly wings. You’re okay with all that, but growing some teeny squishy baby with hopefully your looks is too far fetched? Give me a break.”

The big Omega puffed at his cigar few times. “Names picked out yet?”

“My Grannie’s name was Eleanor so I like Ellie for a girl, maybe Mikel for a boy.” Peter replief absentmindedly, flushing when Logan grinned knowingly. “Okay maybe my hopes are up a little bit. But please don’t say anything.”

“Won’t say nothin’.” Logan agreed, then inclined his head down the road towards a cloud of dust. “Those your friends?”

“Umm---” Peter listened close for Gwen’s tell tale brand of terrible music taste and lit up with a grin. “Yeah! That’s them!”

The car came bouncing and rattling over up the cinder drive, sliding to a stop and opening up to spill four twenty-somethings out into the yard. Harry and Johnny will still arguing about reindeer and apparently whether or not Santa had eight or nine, Gwen was shouting about how she was staying for an entire week because of the six hour drive and also Peter owed her gas money and a refund on her sanity after listening to Johnny sing all day. Mary Jane was as collected and beautiful as always but she still squealed when she saw Peter and hugged him tight enough to choke before the Alphas jostled her away and talked over each other in an attempt to hug on Peter and catch him up on the last several weeks worth of gossip.

“Holy shit.” Clint paused in the kitchen window to watch the chaos, moonshine halfway to his mouth. “They’re like a pack of wild animals! Are they always like this?”

“Never fails.” Wade grimaced. “If I didn’t love Pete so much there’s no way I’d tolerate his friends. But they adore him somethin’ fierce so it’s alright. Can’t complain about my mate bein’ surrounded by people that would do anything for him.”

“I guess.” the Alpha made a face over the drink. “By the way, what the hell is this, sweet apple flavored? Do you have real alcohol?”

“First time I gave my mate real moonshine he about died.” Wade said dryly. “Gotta ply him with the fruity stuff or he won’t drink with me. Damn shame for an Alpha to have a mate who won’t get all tipsy and sweet with him, right?”

“Damn shame.” Clint repeated, and then softer. “Congratulations on the little one, by the way. Not telling anyone yet?”

“Don’t know if it’s anything real.” Wade tried not to smile quite so goofy. “Not gettin’ my hopes up, not with my biology and all. Never thought I could have kids but since the jump forward changed my mutation, guess there’s a chance. We won’t know for a while.”

“Not getting your hopes up?”

“Nah.”

“Uh-huh.” Clint swirled the apple liquor in his glass and nodded. “Got names picked out?”

“Pete’s granny was named Eleanor and that’s a good old fashioned name.” Wade said absentmindedly, watching his mate get all but tackled by an over enthusiastic Gwen. “We could call her Ellie.”

“Oh yeah, you’re not getting your hopes up at all.” Clint drained the rest of his drink and set the glass in the sink. “Come on, let’s go meet the friends. Get it over with.”

“Wade!” Mary Jane was the first to see Wade and she hurried towards the Alpha to give him a big hug, laughing in delight when Wade promptly picked her up and swung her around in a circle. “How are you! It’s so pretty up here! I love it!”

“Just sayin’ bud, you’re already ridiculously Alpha, you don’t gotta rub it in our faces by picking up our Omegas just to show off.” Gwen was next, socking the other Alpha in the shoulder before grabbing Wade in a hug too. “Also, you owe me gas money and like, several hours of my life back for that drive. I’m staying for a week just to make up for it.”

“Wonderful.” Wade grunted, and Gwen snarled playfully at him before getting out of the way. “Harry, Johnny.” Wade shook each of their hands. “How was the drive?”

“Way longer than we thought it would be, so we are also staying for a week.” Johnny informed him. “And Pete never texted me back about reindeer so it that like a real thing? Do you have those here? Like, you raise ponies and also reindeer?”

“Ponies? What--?”

“Ignore him, he’s had about six energy drinks and an entire pound of beef jerky.” Harry patted Wade on the shoulder and grinned. “It’s real nice up here, glad you guys finally let us come up. Pete says he refused to have anyone over until it was all the way done. Sure took you long enough.”

“Pete’s pickier than you’d think when it comes to his dream cabin.” The Alpha replied and Peter retorted, “I wouldn't be picky if you’d just make it perfect!” and the group erupted into laughter and various jeers and vaguely worded jabs at the Alphas lack of skill and more pointed hints at Peter just being high maintenance.

The noise carried into the surrounding woods, laughter and chatter and happiness that filled the air with the combined scents of family and contentment and smiles. It was like warm wind, gentle and calming as it wove through the trees and branches. soothing as it stirred the leaves along well used game trails, hopeful as it brushed over the mutant standing at a distance and watching the party unfold.

These days the organic tech had eaten into most of Cable’s body, spreading across his chest and over his face, hooking into his scalp and nearly covering his one good eye. The repeated trips to and from Haven to see his family and to and from this timeline to keep an eye on both Wade and Peter had all but destroyed the Alpha by now, taxing his mutation and sanity to the breaking point.

Most days it was all Cable could do to fight the voice of the tech inside his head as it tried to take over his consciousness and others days he wondered if it was worth fighting at all.

Eventually Cable would be nothing more than a robot, nothing more than a fragment of himself trapped and lost behind programming and cold steel, but today he was still human enough to smile the slightest bit when the noise of happy conversation reached his ears.

He’d done the right thing bringing Wade forward through the centuries to meet his mate. It had been the right decision to reunite the pair, to break the rules of time travel for others like he broke them so often for himself.

The right decision, and the sound of the Omega laughing at his mate in pure delight proved it.

The right decision, and Cable allowed himself another tiny smile before he turned the numbers on his device back to a familiar year and a familiar place--

--and disappeared in a flash of light.

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

Haven

1874

“Cable.” Bruce didn’t look up when the mutant shimmered into place next to him, decades of knowing Cable and decades of forcing himself to calm making it so he didn't even jump. “Welcome back.”

“How are they?” Cable stripped out of his gear and set it to the side before settling on to the picnic next to the doctor. “How’s my family?”

“Hope doesn’t have a single ounce of fear in her.” Bruce motioned down the hill to where the little girl was chattering excitedly about butterflies, fingers twined with Eddie’s as she pulled them along the creek side. “When you told Eddie to be friends with her, they were terrified she would scream but children are so pure, she has no clue Eddie is someone the adults fear. She has been holding their hand for at least a solid hour and Eddie has no intention of letting go anytime soon. Almost a week now they’ve spent every day together and I’ve never seen Eddie smile so much.”

“That’s good.” Cable’s throat closed up as he watched his daughter play with the volatile mutant, pointing at different bugs and chasing down a grasshopper while Eddie followed behind with measured steps and a careful hold lest the little girl trip or skin her knee. Their eyes flickered fond opaline and pointed crowded sharp every time they smiled down at her, but there was no danger in the air, nothing uncertain or scary and Cable relaxed further. “Eddie deserves kindness.”

“So do you.” Bruce said mildly. “Have you thought about talking to Aliya? To Hope? If they can be comfortable with Eddie, they will be comfortable with you as well.”

“I wouldn’t disrupt their happiness by trying to--”

“Yoo-hoo!” Aliya came over the rise of the hill, stunning in her simple dress, hair long down her back and a basket of flowers and food. “Doctor Banner! Hope told me she was playing with Eddie again today so I thought I’d bring a picnic!”

“Oh.” Cable wanted to growl, he wanted to hide, he wanted to break down and cry as Aliya came close enough for him to breathe in her sunflower and rosewood scent. “Bruce, I should go, I should--”

“Oh hello! It’s Nathan, isn’t it?” Aliya smiled at him and Cable’s heart almost broke. “Nathan Summers? Bruce has talked about you but I’ve never had the chance to say hello. How are you?”

“I’m-- I’m--”

“Stay and have lunch with us, I always bring way too much!” Aliya was pure sunshine when she laughed, sunshine and summer wind and Cable thought he’d shatter beneath the easy acceptance in her beautiful eyes. “Please stay, do you like sweet corn? It’s fresh from our garden. What about wine, will you have some?”

“...I’d love some.” Cable said hoarsely. “And sweet corn is my-- my favorite.”

“I knew it.” Aliya patted at Bruce’s knee as she passed, patted Cable’s shoulder for balance as she sat next to them. “I saw you and thought to myself, ‘that is a man who likes sweet corn.’ I make corn fritters you will absolutely die for, you’ll have to join us for dinner too? Eddie and Bruce are over at least once a week, Hope is thoroughly smitten with them but there is always room for one more at our table!”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Cable swallowed hard. “I’d--- I’d appreciate that.”

“Call me Aliya.” the Omega prompted, sending him a wink that made Cable’s heart twist in his chest. “After all, we’re friends now aren’t we? Call me Aliya.”

Cable didn’t manage to say a whole lot over the course of the picnic, but Aliya chatted enough for the two of them and when Hope came running up to show off the butterfly Eddie held so carefully in their clawed hands, the little girl immediately decided Cable needed to catch butterflies too. it took nothing more than an endearing smile and flutter of long lashes and the child had Cable caught around her little finger and fully ready to do her bidding.

“I love butterflies.” She skipped along at Cable’s side as she towed him back down to the creek. “Do you know that? I also love flowers. And I love blackberries even though Ma says I’ll explode if I eat too many and--”

“You like blackberry tarts, sweetheart?” Cable asked hoarsely, thinking of his own Hope and the way she’d cheered every time he brought her home something sweet. “With sugar crystals and--”

“-- and a smear of frosting!” Hope finished excitedly. “Do you have any? You would be my favorite if you had some!”

“I-- I’ll find some.” Cable whispered, blinking back tears as Hope grabbed tighter at his hand and kept right on talking. “Oh hell, I’ll sure find some.”

Down in the town square in the middle of Haven, a little old man with wild suspenders and patched trousers glanced up into the hills and smiled when his ancient eyes caught sight of the mutant at long last reunited with his family.

No matter time nor distance, loved ones always found their way together again and in this particular universe, even bending the rules of time travel and the fabric of reality could end in a happily ever after. The mutant wouldn’t lose his loved ones like he’d lost them fifty nine times before and the Alpha that had gone forward so far into another century would get to grow old with his mate.

Sometime in the future Mr. Lee would be a taxi driver, a pawnbroker, maybe even a tailor creating suits for all sorts of famous people but for now the old Alpha pushed his glasses up his nose and went on his way with an arm full of trinkets to stock his shop.

There wasn’t really a word that could describe the mysteries of the universe and the powers that existed, the way timelines crashed and folded into each other to bring soulmates back around again and again, but Mr Lee was pretty sure these sort of things would always work out.

After all, he’d done a pretty good job with all the Happily Ever Afters so far.

He’d do a pretty good job with the rest of them, too.

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

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

IF YOU LOVE WHAT YOU READ, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL AUTHOR!

Authors Notes: So some of you know that I’ve had this story planned for quite literally a year and a half and I cannot tell express how humbled I was when not one or two but FOUR different readers hit me up and told me they’d be happy to commission the fic if I’d just take the time to finally write it. They didn’t set any boundaries for me, their only input was encouragement and fangirling and I will love them forever for helping make this monster idea a real story.

I have at least five different bonus chapters planned ranging from more about Eddie and Bruce to more about Cable and some about Stucky and of course, slice of life pieces for our Spideypool so while this is the end of the original fic, I promise it’s not the last time we’ll visit the verse.

This is now officially my longest fic, longer even than Pirate’s Heart, but I’ve got bonus chapters planned for that verse too, so I’m sure the stats will flip again!

I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did, and to those of you who stuck by me for almost five months worth of updates and chapters-- cheers to you. I wouldn’t write without dedicated readers who support me!

Keep Scrolling for a Post Credits Scene!

And if you’d like to keep tabs on my writing, ask to be on my PERMA-TAG LIST!

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

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @lookuplaughing @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @water-colouredmemories @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @ricecakeandhoney @ardatlily @fawnandgays @bluedreamdino @bibbarnes @blackstar1602 @hi-inevitable-im-deadpool @scientifically-lesbian-jesus @the-pagely-gun-slinger @oshuncheyenne @the-dragonwolf-den @pumpkin-spidey @sozvuchiy @cappunico @tired-dragons01 @chiby-chan @ahumoki0 @kanizsacollage @tulipsnbigcats @hiddenaurora @notchronicle24 @marvels-gurl @iridescent-idiot @badndbourgeoisie @eversomniator @local1dreamer @loveisblindwade @ssssssssssssssssssssslytherin @theunwantedomega @littlepolypan @marvel-is-literally-life-okay @lovethewitchofendor

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

Present Day

“Are you nervous?” Pepper nuzzled a kiss onto Tony’s cheek as he tapped away at the computer in front of the temperature controlled chamber installed at the bottom of the Tower. “This is a big deal.”

“You think so?” the sassy Omega asked absentmindedly. “Finding the body of a near century old super soldier that is most definitely the result of some pretty terrible experimentation and attempting to bring him out of hibernation without accidentally killing him? I mean yeah, I’d think that’s a big deal.”

“Brat.” Pepper huffed and kissed him one more time. “Are you sure we shouldn’t ask Director Fury for help with this? Your father started SHIELD, Fury has taken it over, we should bring him in on this project. You can’t just wake up a top secret government project and think to keep it quiet.”

“Sure I can.” Tony’s eyes flickered blue as he stretched his power inside the containment chamber to manually adjust the temperature. “And I’m gonna do it right now. Look.”

Inside the chamber, steam hissed as the last of a centuries worth of ice melted away from a still form, clouding the glass and making it hard to see. Tony and Pepper stared wide eyed and white knuckled at the monitors as a broad chest rose and fell with first one breath, and then another, and then a third that came along with clenching fists and cracking knuckles and the wheezy, gaspy sound of an Alpha that had been locked away too long.

“Tony?” Pepper whispered uncertainly when eyes that should be blue opened dark scarlet and furious, when features that should be strong and patriotic twisted into a mask of rage. “Tony honey are you sure this is Captain Rogers?”

“It’s Captain Rogers, alright.” Tony didn’t flinch away when the Alpha stalked towards the observation window and slammed a huge fist onto the glass, but he didn’t resist when his mate scaled up and turned golden eyed, Pepper’s claws and wings making an appearance as she shifted into her dragon and growled protectively over her mate.

“Say Pep.” Tony swallowed when Captain Rogers’s furious gaze locked onto his, when the Alpha curled his teeth back and bared fangs long enough to be horrifying. “All those reports about Captain Rogers. Any word on whether or not he survived the mutant serum as human?”

“You think they turned him into a monster.” Pepper’s voice was low in her mostly shifted form. “You think his body couldn’t handle the change and too long in hibernation brought the mutation out. Any Alpha runs towards feral after too long locked away but this is--”

“I think maybe they gave him mutant serum with a strong animal influence--” Tony backed up a step when Captain Rogers slammed at the glass again and a spiderweb of cracks broke beneath his fist. “--and I think they had no idea what they were doing--” Another slam and another crack. “--and I think--”

“Where is my mate?!” the mutant Alpha roared, and the speakers on the containment chambers crackled and burst beneath the noise. “My mate! Take me to my mate!”

“--I think we should find his mate.” The Omega’s eyes lit blue again and he snapped several pieces of metal over the cracking glass, melding them together and then to the floor so they wouldn’t give. “Pep, did we know Captain Rogers had a mate?”

“There was no mention anywhere in the files about a mate.” the Alpha muttered, and from behind the metal pieces Captain Rogers howled in heartbreak and rage as he tried to beat his way through the chamber. “But we should figure it out soon.”

The blocks Tony put up bent beneath the force of a solid punch, bowed and reshaped as the Captain fought against it. “Yeah, we should figure it out now.”

*****

Across the world in a country no one thought of as important, in a field with no name and no marker on a map, deep beneath the floors of a storage facility that technically didn’t exist and had long been abandoned, an Omega was locked inside a cryogenic chamber, forced into stasis years ago and forgotten until deemed necessary.

For the first time ever, the Omega stirred without being woken, jerked into motion without being activated, snapped open ice blue eyes, clenched his fist and punched right through the chamber to fall out onto the cold floor, gasping for breath and nearly screaming as his entire body lit up in pain and grief and--

“Alpha.” the Omega lifted metal fingers to press against a long faded bonding mark, a growl working from his throat as a single memory came flooding back through the decades of experimentation and brain washing.

“Alpha.” he growled again. “...Steve.”

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

133 notes · View notes

jojo-reader-hell · 4 years

Text

Jonathan Joestar x Selkie!Reader: Seven on the Land, Seven in the Sea

Hello children here’s the selkie angst you didn’t ask for.

...

“And yet, niece, you are subject to our laws, as a being of the same nature with ourselves; and should HE prove unfaithful to you and marry again, you are obliged to take away his life.”

- Undine

...

“Oh Jojo! Yes! Yes I will marry you!”

Your hands, clammy and pruned, began to tremble. You released your fist and gripped weakly at the door frame, legs like gelatin when you heard a cacophony of giggles, and saw a man lift a woman with hair the color of golden beach sand into his arms for a kiss. The barking laughter of the elders echoing in your mind, stomach frothing with nervous bile.

Remember the laws of our people little pup: he belonged to you the minute the child was placed inside your tender womb by his essence. He cannot belong to another, and if he tries... he is condemned to die by your hand.

No... no... this cannot be happening... Why couldn’t your husband just wait for you to explain?! You turned away from the path, blocking the way to the door, turning and seeing a very familiar pair of watery blue eyes searching for the answer in your tear streaked face. Your little boy, your son Giorno, was still holding out the large jet black pelt you’d found. The picture of innocence. Blue black hair pressed wetly to his forehead as he obediently waited. A good boy, in every sense of the word. He didn’t understand human words, he was seven years a seal and a mere few minutes a human. You meant to show him as a surprise. Instructed your little boy to hold out his father’s new pelt and wait for him to come to the door when you knocked. He was then to say his first word, a call of his father’s name. At first the sight made you coo in delight, now it only made you wish to die. It was supposed to be a happy moment. A moment that would inspire joy once you knocked at the cabin door and the fisherman’s son Jonathan Joestar would open it to reveal his half selkie son holding out a seal pelt just his size, that he might join you both in the sea forever.

Oh! You can try to deny the jealousy. ‘Twill be a bitter poison to swallow that will consume your every waking moment. But the lust for blood will consume you, eat away at the heart that was once cradled in the palm of his hand, and you will inevitably partake in the ancient right to carnage. Serves you right for cavorting about with a human. Doesn’t it make you wish now that you’d have taken the harp seal as your husband? Dio would have made a devoted father to little Giorno. You know, once your human mate is dead you are allowed to take another in his stead.

You remembered your words... How proudly you lifted your chin and dared to look into the eyes of the elder selkie.

I’d rather die.

Yes. You’d rather be dead. Rather have stayed on land and let the dryness kill you and the baby than have to look through the salt stained windows of the cabin and see your husband’s lips locked with another, grudgingly you admitted his new choice was pretty. Beach sand hair, eyes as blue as the sea... Certainly not the stormy eyes of a seal woman that were shrouded as though in a dense fog. While it never bothered you before, you suddenly felt the chill of the sea wind creep into your bones, bare toes curling into the mud of the path as you took a stumbling step away. Your son barked, it was all he knew how to do, and you frightened him when you lunged forward on the path to cover his mouth, scraping the sensitive skin of your legs when you scooped him up into your arms.

Giorno barked at you once again when you waded out to the beach in a hurry, not paying any mind to the blood trickling down your legs. You understood him perfectly, it was a bark that meant he wanted his papa’s attention. You made a snuffing sound with your nose as you buried your face in his little neck, a sound meant for seal mothers to reassure their little ones. But he didn’t want his mother. He wanted his father and tried to open his mouth to call his name like you taught him, quickly silenced with the words gurgling in his throat as you dove into the cold gray sea.

No... no... Jonathan... dear Jonathan... why couldn’t he wait for you?? Why couldn’t he have stayed steadfast and faithful, understanding the message of the pearls and shells you’d left in place of the letter you didn’t know how to write. You didn’t know any way to let him know. It wasn’t possible for a selkie to live more than a few days on land. You were able to stay a little longer, because Jonathan had accidentally caught your pelt in his nets. By the laws you were bound to him as husband and wife. Whosoever took your pelt and returned it was by tradition proposing marriage. And because he was so sincere, so kind, you accepted. Happy as a clam to have been fortunate to be taken in the arms of such a handsome specimen of manhood.

“If you are my wife now... then this must be our wedding night.”

He’d told you this on a night similar to the one you returned on. It was just as the sun was setting. The cold wind from the sea blew in, his fire roaring and a cast iron pot of simmering fish stew bubbled in the fire. You’d been waiting patiently to be fed, your pelt wrapped loosely around yourself, unaware of how bewitching you looked when the spotted pelt slid down to expose your soft shoulders.

“Yes. I suppose it is.”

“Tell me, little selkie, do you know what happens on a wedding night?”

You did not know, but oh did you find out. You found out the consequences of such a night too, when your stomach began to balloon out even though you couldn’t keep down your fish anymore. Jonathan was too busy to notice. A fisherman’s life was hard, with him being at sea for weeks at a time and returning dead tired with barely enough food to feed the two of you. You tried to tell him yourself that you were dying. You just needed some time to return back to the sea, a seven year rest in the water and a seven year search for a pelt that he might come to your world without drowning trying to join you and the baby. If you continued living on land, you’d lose the child and your life, leaving the poor man a lonely widow without even a body to mourn. From sea foam you came, to sea foam you’d return if you kept up the facade of being a human for too long.

As you pulled both yourself and baby further down into the murky water, you tried to ignore the sounds of a creature swimming rapidly towards you. Pretending not to see the locks of gold and that damned gloating smile, you pressed Giorno closer to your chest and made into the shape of a torpedo, jettisoning yourself out of reach of the sea and landing with an undignified ‘plop’ on the hard pebbles of the beach. Your son sputtered, coughing sea water and choking because of the abrupt transition from breathing air to breathing water.

“You damnable tease!” Croaked a voice out of breath. “I’m only trying to help you-...”

“Go away Dio!” You growled a warning, lips pulling back over your sharp teeth. “This doesn’t concern you!”

“Of course it does! Am I not the fiercest hunter?! Did I not escort you here to protect you from sharks? In a few minutes you might have had another escort instead of me. Clumsy bitch, you’re bleeding!”

He heaved himself onto land, hissing at the pain of the pebbles pressing into his sensitive skin and hardly experienced enough to walk as he dragged himself towards you with an outstretched hand. You stood on wobbling legs and stepped out of reach, backing away as fast as the love struck selkie male could crawl towards you, his legs still clumsily pressed together because he never fully grasped the concept of his human half.

“He didn’t stay faithful did he?!” Dio laughed, between hissing at the pain of the dry land and hurling insults at you. “He’s going to marry that simpering wench and you’ll have to kill him on his wedding night, in your marriage bed that he defiled with another!”

“Go away!”

“You’ll be left a disgraced widow. Your poor son more of a bastard than he already is!”

“Begone!”

“You know I speak the truth! I was told to bring you the knife to carry out the deed. Take it you fool, take it and free yourself! Save what little dignity you have left and exercise your ancient right to revenge!”

He tossed the offending object towards your feet. The ceremonial knife. A razor clam honed to a fine edge and used by multitudes of heartbroken selkies to free themselves from their earthly bonds. It made you pause, seeing it lay there innocently while Giorno stared wide eyed at Dio. You looked at the child in your arms, and then once more to the razor clam. A feeling... insatiable lust... a hunger for the blood of your son’s father filled your heart, skipping a beat when you saw some of the blood from your knees dribble down onto the blade.

Temptation.

Pure, unadulterated temptation.

The same temptation he might have felt when he committed the sin of taking another...

Kicking sand in your wake, you carried Giorno far away, as far as your weak legs could carry the both of you. They didn’t get you far. Just far enough into the forest that you couldn’t hear Dio’s screams of your name, but you could still see the smoke curling from Jonathan’s chimney and smell the fish he was cooking as a meal to celebrate his betrothal. You couldn’t cry. Selkies cannot cry tears, only making you suffer all the more as your heartbreak had no where else to go but to sink deeper into the pit of your stomach. Giorno had long since stopped choking, opting now to whine weakly into your arms, unused to being on dry land for such a long period of time. You tried your best to rock him back and forth in your arms, mimicking the gentle motions of the waves in an attempt to soothe him.

But it was all for naught. There was nothing you could do to console him. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t give the black pelt he still held to his papa. Didn’t understand why you didn’t produce his father after seven years of singing him songs in your seal voice about the handsome young man that would net hoards of fish for him to eat, then cradle him in his strong arms and shower him with the affection he longed for. You knew even though he didn’t understand things as a human, Giorno wasn’t stupid. He saw the members of his pod paired and taking care of young, wondering why he had no papa to clean his whiskers after his meals or to teach him to catch slippery silver fish in his jaws. Giorno was instead fed on mother’s milk and stories of a papa that walked on two legs, a papa that couldn’t swim very well in frothing waters and that had promised a vow of everlasting love to his mother.

“P-papa!” His first words were raspy, his throat parched from breathing in too much dry air. “Papa!”

#jojo’s bizzare adventure #jojo’s bizarre adventure phantom blood #jonathan joestar x erina pendleton #jonathan joestar x reader #selkie!reader #giorno giovanna #jonathan joestar #dio brando x reader #dio brando #erina pendleton joestar #angst #unfaithful partner #unrequited love #selkie #selkie marriage

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justaghostingon · 4 years

Text

Merfolk are Overrated

Chapter 4: To The Shore

Kodya’s class takes a fieldtrip, and it goes about as well as can be expected when you let three curious mermaids loose in a general store.

Read on ao3 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041904/chapters/62957779

Or below the cut

As the weeks rolled by, a pattern began to emerge. Kodya would wake up early and go out fishing, just like before. Only now three bright-colored heads would rise from the water to greet him as soon as he cut the engine, the Kid at the forefront with some small gift to appease Kodya. He would still set out the nets, like always. But now a mermaid or two would be there to try and help. Occasionally one, usually Red, would get stuck and need to be cut out. Kodya would still eat his lunches out on the water like always, but now those lunches would be shared by three mermaids chattering and snacking themselves. Even Fluffy would mime out an opinion or two. Then after lunch, Kodya would start teaching.

Gyrus was, by far, the best student Kodya had ever seen. It took him almost no time to learn basic math, and soon he was calculating faster and with greater accuracy than Kodya himself could. Kodya had once tried to explain how budgeting worked to illustrate why his nets were so important, and by that evening Gyrus had completely reorganized his budget to the point where he was saving more money than he’d thought was possible. In all honesty, Kodya was pretty sure Gyrus was some kind of super genius, and found he was rapidly running out of things to teach him.

If he’d only known the Kid, Kodya is pretty sure that he would have chalked up Gyrus’ super-intelligence to just a siren thing. But alas, it appeared that great age did not translate to skill with numbers, as both Fluffy and Red were leagues behind. Not that they were terrible, Kodya begrudgingly noted that if they had been to elementary school together they both have had higher grades than he did. But they needed a slower pace, and often Kodya found he had to slow down the lesson to accommodate them.

If teaching them all math had been their only goal, Kodya would have tried giving Fluffy and Red more class hours while sending the Kid off to do homework or something. But neither Fluffy or Red showed any particular interest in putting extra work into improving their own skills. They’d put up a show to support Gyrus of course, but Fluffy’s constant fidgeting and Red’s frustrated growls made it very clear they did not really want to be there. This in turn made Gyrus get distracted trying to explain and keep them interested, meaning he didn’t advance either. Eventually Kodya just got tired of it and told them to go out and help fish every other afternoon, while he focused on more advanced material with Gyrus.

This they happily accepted, only attending class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and leaving Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to the Kid and Kodya. Kodya would never admit it, but these days were his favorite. He’d stay out way longer than he usually did, just to keep whatever conversation the Kid inevitably dragged him into going. He hadn’t enjoyed another person’s company this much since he’d met Nephthys.

Nephthys noticed the change in behavior, commenting about how mopey he got while away from the sea, and giggling that he might have gotten a boyfriend he didn’t tell her about. Kodya was quick to deny this, but more than willing to talk about whatever trouble Red, Fluffy, and the Kid got into, under the pretense of being pesky dolphins of course. Such stories would appease her curiosity, and she rarely went beyond light teasing as she watched Kodya inevitably perk up as the weekend drew to a close and Monday neared.

It was on one such Monday that Kodya finally worked up the courage to ask Gyrus a question that had been weighing on him for a while.

“So how old are you anyways?” Kodya said, eyes on the white board as he wrote out a few problems he’d created based off of his and Nephthys’s shopping lists and an old book about store finance.

“Probably around your age,” Gyrus shrugged, to absorbed in his work on the problems to notice the way Kodya had shut the book to look at him sharply.

“And how old do you think I am?” Kodya pressed.

“I don’t know, 200s right?” Gyrus glanced up at him, and finally seemed to realize something was wrong. “Are you older?” He offered, looking embarrassed, and not at all like a being who was most certainly not a kid.

“I’m 24,” Kodya stated, voice flat. Now what am I going to call you? He mentally despaired.

“24?” Gyrus’ mouth fell open. “But you can’t be! You’re clearly an adult!”

“Of course I’m an adult!” Kodya crossed his arms, “I’ve been an adult for six years!”

“18?” Gyrus’ tail twitched in agitation. “Humans reach maturity so young? How long do you live?”

Kodya shifted uncomfortably at his tone, feeling slightly offended. He wasn’t the weird one here. “We live to be around 80? Some a bit less and some a bit longer, you know, a normal amount.”

“That’s so short,” Gyrus shook his head. “I can’t even…how can you stand it?”

“Hey!” Kodya scowled down at Gyrus, “Most creatures live way shorter life spans, so I’d say you living so long is the weird one here. We do just fine with 80 years thanks.”

Gyrus placed his head in his hands. “Every time I think I’m beginning to understand humans, I find out there’s so much more I don’t know.” He looked very small then, and forlorn. Kodya felt his anger dissipate.

“Look, Kid,” he said, drawing the last word on his tongue to see if Gyrus would notice and protest. He didn’t, and so Kodya plowed on. “You’re doing fine. You’ve learned everything I taught you way quicker than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Not everything,” Gyrus sighed as he picked up his whiteboard. “I can do the calculations, sure, but I don’t really get all the words. Like this one,” he pointed to a problem, “35 cents for bananas. What are bananas? I know they must be food from how you talk about them, but I have no idea what they look like. And this!” He jabbed a finger at one of the words, “Bug spray! How do you get something as small as a bug to spray anything?”

“Slow down Kid,” Kodya interrupted and Gyrus deflated at the sound of his voice. “I can bring you a banana and bug spray if you want.”

“But even if you did, there would inevitably be something else I can’t picture or misunderstand. I just wish,” he sighed again, pulling his emerald tail close around his body. “I just wish I could see it all for myself.”

His lower lip started to tremble, and Kodya felt his heart clench at the sight. “Maybe you could,” he said, and then instantly wanted to hit himself for promising something so impossible. But Gyrus was looking at him with wide, watery eyes like Kodya just promised him the moon, and Kodya couldn’t bring himself to deny him anything.

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

The old shed opened with the loud grating noise of rusted hinges. Kodya winced slightly at the sound, before pushing forward into the crowded space before him. Nephthys had said the inflatable kiddie pool was just in here the last time she’d seen it. But that had been nearly seven years ago, back when she’d tried to teach him how to swim in exchange for teaching her written English. Those lessons had not lasted very long, in part because Kodya was much less gracious as a student than as a teacher, and in part because the drowning incident had still been fresh in his mind.

He shoved aside The fishing rod he’d gotten for his Mom at fifteen, still as clean and unused as the day he’d bought it, and some of her old Navy Seal camping gear. Where was it? It should be with the practical stuff…

Something bright and pink caught his eye, the faded plastic tucked quietly in a corner behind some old storage bins. Kodya waded over towards it and gave it a gentle tug, pulling out of another box labeled POOL in his mother’s loopy handwriting. He pulled the cumbersome plastic out, and stopped.

There was something else in the bin, soft against his hands. Weird. He couldn’t think of anything pool related that was soft, and his mother was usually so organized. He looked down to see a strange fur wrap below. It was plain brown, with faded spots making a star pattern along it. One edge was jagged and sharp, with bits of leather skin poking out below it. Kodya ran a finger down the edge, and wondered if someone had taken a blunt knife to it.

The plastic of the pool rustled against the boxes as Kodya shifted, drawing his attention back towards it. He shut the pool box with a snap. Whatever it was, it didn’t concern him. His mother could sort it out on her own time. He had a mermaid’s day to make.

---------

“I’m back!” Kodya called as two brightly colored heads appeared in the water. “And you’ll never believe what I brought for you today!”

Gyrus beamed at him, and Kodya took a minute to examine that lovely smile and enjoy how it was all for him. “We’ve got something to show you too!” the Kid exclaimed, “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure Kid,” Kodya allowed himself a slight twitch of his lips, wondering what seaglass or shells Gyrus had brought for him today. “But I’ll bet mine’s better.”

Red and the Kid exchanged glances, before Red sighed. “Just so we are clear,” she said, “I do not fully approve of this idea.” So saying, she dove into the water, and in her place rose a single white corner, then another and another, until there was a great white box with a handle sticking out the side.

Kodya blinked. “What is that supposed to be?” He asked, squinting at the sides. Something about the faded pink stickers looked familiar. Was that ice cream?

“It’s a box with wheels!” Gyrus proclaimed, gesturing to the suspiciously familiar object. Kodya raised an eyebrow, and the Kid blushed. “Lift it higher!” Gyrus hissed, and the white box raised above the water, allowing for both the wheels and Fluffy’s head to come into view.

“See?” Gyrus’ purple orbs practically glowed. Beside him Fluffy beamed and even Red looked a bit smug.

“I see,” said Kodya, feeling somewhat baffled. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“That’s the best part!” the Kid’s green tail surfaced to slash the top of the water excitedly. It went straight into Tori’s face and she sputtered, causing one end to dip back into the water. “This box holds water! Without it coming out! If you put me in this I could come with you to shore!”

Well that diminished Kodya’s surprise a bit. He felt a bit hurt. He’d put a lot of thought into his kiddie pool. But he shook it off in favor of squinting at the white cart. It was looking more and more familiar the more he stared.

“Is that,-” he frowned, “- Oli’s ice cream cart?!” Oli’s ice cream was a staple on the beach in the summer months, and he’d recently upgraded to owning a portable cart that he employed Anan to push around and increase business. But Anan had lost it under what he claimed was a sudden storm. Kodya narrowed his eyes. “Did you hypnotize Anan into giving that up?”

“We didn’t hypnotize anyone,” Red sniffed. “This was a gift.”

“We just asked, and he handed it right over!” Gyrus added. “He didn’t even stop to question why we were all in the water!”

Fluffy batted her eyelashes and then threw Kodya a wink, and Kodya had the sneaking suspicion that they had used a different method of coercion instead. But hey, he shrugged. Oli hadn’t held that much of a grudge, and it was high time Anan learned a lesson about not giving in to the whims of every pretty girl that smiled at him.

“So what was it you brought for us?” Gyrus asked innocently, and all three mermaids' attention snapped to him.

“Oh,” Kodya rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I kinda brought something similar, only bigger, and with no wheels.”

“Really?” Gyrus beamed. “That’s great! Now we can all go on land!” All? Kodya opened his mouth to protest. He could hide maybe one mermaid, but three?

“That would set some of my fears to rest,” Red said, sounding appeased. “I did not want to leave Gyrus to wander this strange world without protection.”

Fluffy began bobbing up and down in the water, splashing wildly with the ice cream cart to show her enthusiasm.

I’m not getting out of this, Kodya realized with a sinking dread as all three mermaids celebrated around him. I need a plan.

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

The plan was simple. Really. Early in the morning, Kodya would meet the three mermaids at the docks. There was a rainstorm scheduled for Thursday, perfect for both providing cover and keeping the mermaids wet. Kodya would load the three of them into the back of his truck, where they would climb into the kiddy pool. Then Kodya would drive really slowly into town, pull out the white cart, now covered in a blanket to pass as a wheelchair, and wheel each mermaid through the store. Simple.

The first part went off without a hitch. It was indeed raining on Thursday morning, the icky, thick, constant rain that made it very uncomfortable to be outside for long periods of time. When Kodya arrived on the dock, he found it deserted. Perfect.

“Guys?” he hissed as he scanned the dark waves. “It’s time.” Three multicolored heads rose from below the dock to greet him.

“That took too long,” Red grumbled. “I had half thought ye’d grown cold feet.”

“It took longer to fill the pool than I expected,” Kodya sighed. “Now come on.” He extended his arms towards Fluffy, who was closest.

Red batted his hand away. “I’ll go first,” she snapped. “It is my duty as champion of the queen to ensure the safety of the rest of the pod.” Kodya rolled his eyes, but complied, hauling her surprisingly light body up into the air. Sylvia went next, eagerly wrapping strong arms around his neck as he lifted her up into the truck too.

And then at last, it was Gyrus’ turn. Kodya reached down for him, determined not to react. It was just a simple assist after all. Kodya could feel both warm skin and slick scales as he carefully lifted him into the air. Gyrus’ arms wrapped around Kodya’s neck, pulling close to Kodya’s chest and soaking his already wet shirt further.

Gyrus ran a curious hand through his hair, playing with the hair tie in the back. “You’re hair feels so strange dry,” He murmured, lavender orbs hypnotic. Their faces were inches apart, and Kodya froze. They hadn’t been this close since the day they met, when Gyrus had called him perfect, and the mere memory sent Kodya’s whole face alight. Gyrus gave the slightest of frowns as he ran gentle fingers through Kodya’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

“If ye are quite finished,” Tori’s loud voice broke through Kodya’s haze, “the sooner we start this, the sooner we can get back to the sea.”

Kodya yelped, placing Gyrus hastily in the back of the truck and ducking his head as he hurried to the front. Still bright red, he gripped the back of the wheel and took several deep breaths. He needed to focus damn it. Or this whole trip would end in disaster.

Disaster…the various, horrible ends of this hair brained scheme were enough to bring him back to reality. If he messed up here, the mermaids could end up in an aquarium, or worse, dissected. He took a deep breath and put the truck in drive. By the time he’d reached the store, the image of Gyrus’ face so close to his own was properly suppressed in the back of his mind.

---------

Step two turned out to have its own set of problems. Namely that as soon as he put the truck in park, he found the mermaids arguing in the back about who would go in first.

“It will be I,” Red’s arms were crossed. “It’s my job to keep you safe, there’s no point in arguing.”

“You don’t even want to see the store!” Gyrus scowled. “Nor do you know as much about humans as I do! And besides,” he crossed his arms, “I’ll be with Kodya so there’s no need to protect me!” He glanced to the side. “Right Sylvia?”

Fluffy threw up her hands in a clear signal of, keep me out of this!

“What’s the problem now?” Kodya massaged the space between his brow. Both Red and the Kid turned on him.

“I am going first, and that is final,” Red snapped at the same time Gyrus said,

“It isn’t fair!”

Kodya sighed, considering. On the one hand, letting Red go first would strengthen the fragile trust they had formed. On the other hand, the Kid was far, far too old to be babied like Red wanted, and going first with Red meant introducing her to Alistair. Kodya squared his shoulders. He’d rather avoid whatever fight she’d pick for as long as possible.

“It’s the Kid’s trip, he gets to go first,” he said, and Red scowled while Gyrus lit up.

“Alright!” Gyrus pulled himself to the edge of the truck to avoid the angry Red. “Help me down and let’s get going!”

“Not so fast kid!” Kodya scolded. “I’ve got to get the wheelchair ready first.” He pulled out the ice cream cart and opened the lid, revealing the cold water he’d taken from his hose the night before.

Carefully, he picked Gyrus up again, this time avoiding eye contact, and plopped him inside. Access water flooded over the edge and distracted the Kid while Kodya tried to hide his blush. To distract himself, he fiddled with the lid, wondering how it would close without bothering the top sticking out.

“This is so exciting!” Gyrus turned to Kodya, eyes shining. Kodya’s hands tightened on the lid at the sight, and a crack came from underneath them. Both Gyrus and Kodya looked down at the now unattached lid. Well, Kodya thought. There goes that problem.

The blanket was thrown over the top to hide the water and the faded ice cream stickers, and the makeshift wheelchair was ready to go. There was just one thing missing. “Here.” Kodya pulled out an old shirt and handed it to Gyrus. “Humans can’t go in stores without full clothing,” he explained, trying to make it seem normal and not like he’d spent hours agonizing over which one of his old shirts to give to Gyrus.

“Thank you,” Gyrus murmured, pulling the bright yellow shirt, specifically chosen to match the yellow tips of his tail, over his head. “Yellow is my favorite color.” Kodya shrugged as casually as he could, but tucked that little piece of information away in his brain.

“Time to go,” he said, stepping behind the cart pushing it towards the door.

---------

As Kodya predicted, Gyrus loved the store. He found everything about it fascinating. From the food to the overpriced towels and swimwear for tourists. Kodya thought he would explode when he found the nets Kodya usually bought and recognized them. He wanted to know how everything worked, what it all did, and why Kodya would or wouldn’t buy it. The towels in particular fascinated him, as he had known humans hated to be too wet, but he’d never realized what a big deal it was until he saw all the different patterns and colors. He was quite disappointed when Kodya broke it to him that the colors and patterns were purely decorative, and didn’t hold any significance at all.

Eventually they got down to business. Kodya walked Gyrus through his grocery list, explaining what each item looked like and what it did. Gyrus seemed to have memorized the prices, and was more than eager to read off the numbers and comment on cheaper options available. Kodya would then have to justify his choice, usually because of quality, and explain it to an attentive Gyrus. It was a long process, but Kodya didn’t think he’d ever had this much fun shopping for groceries before.

But as Kodya finished explaining about bananas and how they worked, he noticed Gyrus’ mood had taken a turn for the morose.

“What’s wrong?” Kodya asked, as Gyrus stared glumly down at the bunch of bananas in his hands. “Am I going too fast?”

“No, no,” Gyrus sighed. “It’s stupid.” Kodya crossed his arms, waiting, and Gyrus shifted the bananas into one hand to run the free one through his hair. “It’s not that I’m not grateful you brought me here so I could see everything, it’s just,” he peaked up at Kodya through his starshaped bangs, “there’s so much of it. I’ll never learn it all today, even if we didn’t have to hurry up and give Tori and Sylvia their turn.”

“Who said you had to learn it all today?” Kodya pointed out. “We’ve got the pool and the wheelchair now. We can definitely come back here again.”

“But it won’t always be raining,” Gyrus pointed out. “You might get seen helping us out of the water.”

Kodya waved a hand as he began to push Gyrus forward. “We’ll just have to figure out another way then. You’re smart. You know what the hurdles are, you come up with something.”

Gyrus shot Kodya a small smile. “Thank you Kodya,” he said. “You really are the best person to teach me.” Kodya ducked his head and pushed harder, trying to hide his blush.

“Kodya? Is that you? I thought I recognized you wandering about my store!” Kodya’s head snapped up to see Alistair waving from the counter. Oh no. “But who is this handsome stranger you’ve brought with you?” Alistair practically jumped over the counter to see better. It took all of Kodya’s strength not to grab the cart's controls and wheel them both out the door.

“Careful Alistair!” Kodya shouted as the man stepped closer and began shamelessly feeling up Gyrus’ muscles. “He’s in a wheelchair!” He pushed Alistair away as Gyrus starred with a look of absolute puzzlement on his face.

“Of course, of course!” Alistair said as he stepped back to lean on his counter. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“I’m Gyrus,” Gyrus said, sounding faintly amused. “Nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure! An absolute pleasure! I am Alistair, and this is my humble store!” Alistair gave a sweeping gesture to encompass the whole building. Kodya rolled his eyes at his theatrics.

“Are you really?” Gyrus asked, sounding intrigued. “Where do you get all the items for sale?”

“Trying to find my sources? How shameless,” Alistair raised an eyebrow and Gyrus blushed, sensing he’d done something wrong. Kodya scowled. “But don’t worry!” Alistair laughed. “My sources are all local, like our charming mutual friend, Kodya here!” He pointed to Kodya who crossed his arms.

“I don’t supply you that often,” Kodya grumbled.

“Oh come now Kodya, don’t be modest.” Alistair winked, he leaned over to Gyrus and whispered, “He caught me a great white shark, I still have the teeth if you want to buy them!”

“I know,” Gyrus smiled. “But I don’t need another shark’s tooth.”

“Another?” Alistair drew back in shock, mouth hanging open. He glanced wildly between Gyrus and Kodya. “You don’t mean to tell me our grumpy Kodya snagged a stud like you?”

“We aren’t dating Alistair,” Kodya stepped in before Gyrus had a chance to misunderstand. “I’m just showing him around while he’s in the states.”

“So he’s single?” Alistair said, and Kodya felt his heart stop.

“Kodya’s been really kind to me!” Gyrus piped up, clearly hoping to back up the illusion of being new to the area. “He’s taught me so much about these states!”

“Oh really? And what has he taught you?” Alistair leaned forward into Gyrus’ personal space.

“Lots! I’ve learned about money, and the presidents on the bills, and dinosaurs…” Gyrus began to rattle off all the things he’d recently learned while Alistair took the opportunity to stare shamelessly at his lips.

Kodya rolled his eyes, disgusted, then froze. Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he’d seen a blue tail.

-----------

Kodya stalked through the store, following the telltale trail of water down the aisles. He hated to leave the Kid alone with Alistair, but he trusted him to be able to handle himself and keep Alistair distracted while Kodya hunted down their real problem.

Speaking of which, he turned a corner to find one half of the dynamic duo munching happily away on the fish in the deli. “Fluffy!” Kodya hissed, as the pink-haired mermaid turned her wide eyes on him. “What are you doing here? And where’s Red?” He’d seen a blue tail, and unless Fluffy had changed her forest green scales blue and back in the last minute, there was no way she was alone.

Fluffy shrugged, gesturing to the fish in front of her to say, I don’t know, I got distracted by the food.

Kodya cursed, striding forward to grab Fluffy bodily and drag her away with a cry of, “you aren’t supposed to be here!” His motion startled Fluffy, whose tail whipped around and knocked the whole deli over, sending the whole display of fish directly on top of her.

Kodya and Fluffy froze. Panicked blue meeting panicked brown. For a second all was still, until in the silence the clunking sound of heavy boots began to fill the air. Fluffy sprang into action, covering herself with the fish in an attempt to blend in. Kodya helped, figuring that if whoever was coming mistook her tail for another fish they might just by themselves some time.

They had just finished when Knox, an employee of Alistair’s store, rounded the corner. “I heard a loud noise, and have been instructed to look for damages,” he said in that monotone voice of his.

Kodya could have cried with relief. If there was one word that summed Knox up, it was gullible. “Don’t just stand there!” He snapped, putting on his most thunderous expression. “Get the first aid kit!” Knox paused, eyes traveling from Kodya’s face to Sylvia’s fish covered tail, to her big puppy dog eyes about to overflow with tears.

“I will retrieve it,” he said, voice still montone, but there was a quickness in his step that betrayed his concern. As soon he turned the corner Kodya let out a relieved sigh.

Fluffy beamed up at Kodya, clearly ecstatic that it had worked. Kodya frowned back at her. “We still need to get out of here before he gets back,” he pointed out.

Fluffy rolled her eyes with the clear message of, you worry too much. And no Kodya wasn’t having that. He grabbed her arm and tugged it upwards.

“Come on,” he said as Fluffy obligingly circled her arms around his neck so he could lift her up. “We’ve got to find Red and get out of here before he comes back.”

“Before who comes back?” Kodya and Fluffy’s heads snapped to the right to see Tori emerging from the towel section. “And what was that noise?”

“What were you thinking!” Kodya felt his fury return in full force. “You knew you had to wait in the truck!” Fluffy looked down guiltily, but Red crossed her arms.

“I am the Champion of the Queen.” She scowled. “It is my duty to keep Gyrus safe. You were taking too long.”

“Gyrus is perfectly fine!” Kodya hissed, taking a step forward. “But now thanks to you two, I had to leave him alone, and now I have to get you out of here before anyone sees your tails and calls the press!”

Red drew herself up to her full height, which given half of her was a floppy fishtail, wasn’t that impressive. “I am perfectly capable of…” But Fluffy held up a hand to stop her, cocking her ear as if listening. Kodya and Tori followed her example, and Kodya’s heart stopped once again.

Footsteps.

Red dove towards the racks of towels as Kodya looked around wildly for a place to stash Fluffy. Could he throw her back into the fish?

Too soon the footsteps came to a halt. Kodya froze as a very familiar voice said, “Kody?”

Slowly Kodya turned around to see Nephthys standing in the aisle, eyes wide as she took in Red half hidden behind the towels and Fluffy still in Kodya’s arms. “Neph, I can explain,” he started, but she shook her head.

“Alistair is coming!” She said as she pulled out her purse. “Distract him while I fix this!” Kodya wanted to argue he’d be better able to carry both mermaids, wanted to ask why she wasn’t reacting, but the look in her eyes told him not to argue. He wordlessly handed off Fluffy and hurried back to where Alistair and Gyrus were waiting.

“Kodya!” Alistair called out. “What was that all about?”

“You just left,” Gyrus added, a bit reproachfully. “Then we heard a huge crash.”

Kodya waved a hand. “An accident. But don’t worry, Nephthys is taking care of it.” He shot Gyrus a look that he hoped communicated, help me distract him.

Alistair was still frowning, concern clear on his face. “I should still check it out, someone could have been hurt.”

“You really don’t have to,” Kodya said, and Gyrus added,

“Didn’t you say you can’t leave the counter to avoid losing a sale?”

Alistair stroked his beard, looking torn. “This is true, but I really can’t ignore people hurt in my store…” his face split into a sly grin that made Kodya’s stomach drop. “So Gyrus, you’re hired!”

“I’m what?” Gyrus stared in confusion.

“Wait a minute!” Kodya protested. “You can’t just hire Gyrus!” He was a mermaid for one, with a tail and no social security!

“Why not?” Alistair beamed. “He’s got all the qualifications: He has an understanding of basic math, thinks Andrew Jackson isn’t worthy of his position on the twenty dollar bill, and best of all, he’s really cute!” Alistair winked at Kodya and turned to Gyrus, “So what do you say? I’ll pay you an entry level salary, but with your brain and looks you’re likely to get promoted no problem!”

“You’ll pay me?” Gyrus blinked. “In money?”

Alistair opened his mouth to reply, an amused smile on his lips, just as Nephthys rounded the corner with Fluffy on her shoulder and another woman with red hair helping Nephthys support her. “Time to go Kody!”

Kodya wasted no time, grabbing Gyrus’s wheelchair’s handles as Gyrus scrambled for the grocery bags and began wheeling him out after the three women.

“Wait a minute,” Alistair started, “What happened?” But Nephthys waved her free hand behind her.

“Got it handled, take care of the mess and bill me!” She cried as she pushed through the door, a towel wrapped over Fluffy’s tail as she and the familiar looking stranger carried her out. Kodya and Gyrus followed, leaving a confused Alistair behind as they stepped into the open air.

“Where’s Red?” Kodya asked as soon as they got to the safety of the truck. He and the blue-tailed mermaid never saw eye to eye, but he didn’t want to leave her stuck in there.

“I’m right here,” snapped the woman with the red hair, “or have you gone blind?” Kodya blinked, and blinked again, his brain not catching up with his eyes. His gaze traveled down, from her distinctive red hair, to her odd plated shirt, to the towel tied around her waist, and her….

“You have legs!” Gyrus screamed, finger pointing in shock. Kodya blinked again, and yes. That was what his brain was struggling to comprehend. Before them both stood Red, on two legs and looking utterly human.

Tori placed a hand on her hip. “Yes, thanks to the potion the witch gave me.” She gestured to Nephthys with her other hand.

Kodya’s eyes flicked to Nephthys, and she gave him jazz hands with an awkward smile. “Surprise?”

#room of swords #room of swords fanfic #kodya #gyrus #sylvia #tori #strawbarrow #mermaid au #menfolk are overrated

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scriptaed · 5 years

Text

a lion’s gilded tooth 01. (m)

genre: angst; fluff; mature content; soulmates!au; dystopia!au;

characters: jimin x reader x hoseok;

length: 11.7k;

synopsis: in a secluded village of 500, the concept of soulmates is used as a mere means for survival and reproduction. when classmates mysteriously disappear and the future with your first childhood love is threatened under the hands of fate on mating day, your once peaceful life begins spiraling into chaos. now, the only hope to unveil the truths behind humanity’s purpose lies in the secrets of the village and its magical ruins.

“Client 151019, please head up to Counter 190525. Again, Client 151019, please head up to Counter 190525.”

The monotonous voice of a familiar female authority echoes incessantly across the vast room—lifeless and desultory, yet at the same time, ever the more daunting. It's a scene every child has witnessed from the lips of their very own mother, the very year in which a child's wildest imaginations crumbled under the confines of the world's creeping ends. The entirety of adolescence spent outside roaming about in the fields, harvesting the appropriate assets for a befitting pair of viable individuals, enduring the lectures of very adult in the village whom had warned you to take Mating Day seriously—none of the eighteen years would ever be enough preparation for anyone to fulfill their sole purpose of fertility.

The white tiles lining the floor cut by dozens upon dozens of black and red lines of tape running in every which way reflect an unpleasant flood of light from its similarly white-coated ceiling. The stark contrast of the numerous rows of black chairs organized into three sections across the room were impossible to miss in the mostly monochromatic room. You had heard countless rumors from school regarding the haunting cold air of this room, but myths tend to exist on the sole vitality of a teen's fleeting attention span; this time, however, experience has proven you wrong. Three hours of sitting in this room was enough to send you longing for the earthy vibrancy of your rural village—the eye-soothing tones of the grass, the scent of wood freshly dampened by the rain the night before, and the familiar back of his as he frolicked through the meadows with your hand in his.

Please prepare two forms of photo identification and the appropriate documents...

Chills ricochet down your spine and manifest into waves that flood your extremities, where your fingertips fidgeted with the metallic underside of your uniform black seat. The short-lived breath of wind as people bustled about before you in an effort to reach their respective destinations didn't help to cease the growing pain of anxiety mixed with a touch if adrenaline burrowed within your chest.

...to ensure a quick and easy check-in. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

The sole source of sanity keeping you from screaming at the eeriness of the woman’s directions is the remaining constant in the entirety of your livelihood… him.

When he rests his hands upon yours, the warmth wades you gently through the directionless waves toward reality; and when you lift your gaze to find him grinning at you with that oh-so-familiar soft smile of his, you’re once again left assured, for you know what lies on the other end of tomorrow's testament of fate.

You’ve always known.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" his voice cooed as he strokes your head with a prolonged kiss to your temple; with each of his electric touches against your bare skin, the blinding white of the lights disintegrates into reality.

You blink slowly, once and twice, until the curve of a grin belonging to the longtime beholder of your affections elicits a skip in tempo against your chest; and before you know it, as if ingrained into your very blueprint, your hands lift to cup his dewy cheek as your thumb runs along his plump, bottom lip. The crescents of his eyes thin even more so, weak with endearment under the embrace of his love.

It’s just as the legends say: the finding of a soulmate is enough to stop even the infinite magnitudes of time itself.

“What do you mean, Jimin,” you let out a nervous laugh, “I’m fine. It’s just that this room is… sort of sucking the life out of me.”

The boy frowns when his hand lays over your cold ones on his cheek, “are you sure? I can always grab a permit from Mr. Wang and see Dr. Li with you.”

“I’m fine, Jimin. Every teacher and nurse in this village will be onto us if you don’t stop overreacting to my every drop in temperature,” your joke incites a pout from him. “Plus, what in the world do I have to be scared of when I have you right here—”

“—booooo,” an irking voice hollers from the row of chairs across you. The sheepish giggles from Jimin morphs into a series of cackling, his head thrown back and his hands cover his burning cheeks in embarrassment; whereas you, on the other hand, shoot an unapologetic glare at the boy who just shrugs. With arms spread over the empty chairs beside him, one over the shoulder of a girl, who noticeably fails to hide the lift on the corner of her lips, the boy persists in his antics, “I didn’t sign up to watch this lovesick fest, so at least give me some drama! Fight or something!”

“Fight?” you ask rhetorically but his smile only widens along with his eyes.

“Yeah, slap each other or something! God, do you guys ever fight?”

“Okay, I don’t know about you and Soyeon, but Jimin and I never fight,” you cross your arms and Jimin wraps an arm over your shoulder, gaze fixated on you with a sweet smile to cheer you on while Hoseok pretends to vomit to the side. “I guess we know which couple is breaking up on Mating Day.”

The couple before you shifts uncomfortably in the lack of a quick rebuttal, particularly Soyeon, whose glance darts to the floor in shambles, and you begin to wonder if you had taken it too far—that is, until Jung Hoseok opens his big mouth again.

“Tch, not us,” he scoffs, the intense gaze of his challenges you to a silent duel of grit, “because at least we’re not acting all lovey-dovey out in the open. If anything, I’m betting the teachers will split you up before tomorrow morning even arrives—”

—and you snap.

“Oh, that’s some big talk, especially coming from you,” your hands would have been completely ready for a fight, as was Hoseok, judging by the twitch of his now furrowed brows accompanied by a death glare, but Jimin holds you back with his two arms hugging you back into the seat beside him.

“Alright, alright, calm down guys. Today’s supposed to be one of the most important days of our lives, let’s not fight, yeah? Why are you two always fighting?” Jimin’s laugh elicits a pressing frown from you and your opponent. The peacemaker simply chuckles again and squishes your cheeks together with one hand, “and Y/N was just joking, right, baby? You didn’t mean to take it that far, yeah?”

The one-sided duel persists as your arms are held tightly against your chest and Hoseok refuses to budge except for turning his attention elsewhere—anything but you.

“Hm?” Jimin nudges you gently.

Begrudgingly, you admit to yourself Jimin was right. Attacking Hoseok’s family name was a low blow, but his well-calculated jabs at your future with Jimin made your blood boil. He knew the next two days would be a tremendously precarious time for you two, he knew how you felt about Jimin and your uncertainty, so why would he go out of his way to knock you off your feet during your lowest of lows? Especially when it was such a rarity for him to do so?

“Client 151020, please head up to Counter 190715. Again, Client 151020, please head up to Counter 190715.”

“Oh, I guess that’s my turn. Gotta go!” you blurt, evidently relieved by an escape route as you grab your documents and jump to your feet. Just as you pivot on the balls of your feet, a firm hand swiftly whirls you back around until you’re met with a large, orange envelope.

“You almost forgot this. Could you be any more clumsy?” Jimin hands you the file, head tilted to devote his sole attention at his girl above. His eyes glimmer and lips stretch into a cheeky grin, fully expecting a reward. Without missing a second, you blow him a kiss and he dramatically pretends to collapse to the floor, overwhelmed by your grace. Hoseok groans once again, surprisingly accompanied by Soyeon’s giggle, and you catch sight of Jimin shrugging as you turn your back on them. “Sorry, Hosoek, but you know I’m always on Y/N’s side.”

The sweet taste of victory manifests in the power of your strides, but alas, all good things must come to an end when you find your dirt-stained, gray shoes bumping into a mahogany podium. Gulping, you take a deep breath and force your eyes to meet those of whom could soon dictate your very future—

“—Y/N!”

A puff of air escapes the labyrinth of knots within your chest; because to your surprise, an old acquaintance sits before you amidst the waves of nostalgia that submerges you chest-deep.

“Why if it isn’t—” the jovial color of her voice is abruptly replaced by a split second, perhaps because of the slight discomfort hidden beneath your subconscious or the restrictions of her current profession, “—Y/N, it’s been so long since we’ve last spoken, hasn’t it?”

You struggle to dedicate your wary gaze on a single subject before finally settling on the woman before you. From your lower angle, neck craning and lips ever-so-slightly quivering, it’s almost as if the clock had been reverted to ten years back. “...yeah, it has been.”

“How are your parents?” she asks while meddling with your files.

“They’re doing well,” you mentally scramble to fill the impending silence, “and how are you doing, Ms. Jung?”

“I’ve been…” she pauses, intentionally keeping her hands preoccupied with the shuffling of files, “...alright.”

For being a direct relative of Hoseok’s, his mother is much more composed and you feel obligated to press further.

“Are you sure? You seem very tired, Ms. Jung. Is there something on your mind?”

She takes a deep breath and sighs the heaviest of sighs. The mother is evidently troubled by an unspeakable matter for nights, weeks, months on end. Hair short, thin, and gray, the worn condition of her sleepless eyes are kept hidden as she persists in keeping them peeled to your files. “I’ll be fine, darling—” another sigh “—it might be difficult for you to understand at your age, but as big of a day this is for you children, it’s just as nerve-wracking for us parents, if not more.”

“Ah—” a surge of guilt overcomes you for the remark you had made on Hoseok’s accursed family name “—no, I understand, Ms. Jung. I could only imagine how hard it must be to send your child off with someone who might very well be a stranger.”

You catch the mother biting her tongue in a fruitful attempt to stop the words from flowing; on the contrary and to your disliking, your lips fail to seal the years of burden.

“I mean, we get married to someone we might not even know, then we’re expected to suddenly start a family of our own, and we don’t—actually, no one—has a say in what the future holds for us all because of this thing we call fate… sometimes I don’t understand who, why, or how this system was even made. How does it help any of us?”

The mother redirects her attention from the paper and onto the child before her, clearly taken aback by their anxious state of mind, for she had never witnessed the child delve into adult matters.

Your vague silhouette reflects in her widened orbs and you begin to wonder: maybe, just maybe, somewhere hidden deep, buried and shunned, lies your greatest fears of tomorrow.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a complete stranger,” the mother reassumes her spot in the committee. “You children know every other child there is on this land. In the worst case scenario, which, mind you, could never possibly arise, your mate would be a classmate you’ve exchanged glances with but never spoken to. Nothing a bit of conversation can’t fix. If fate says it’s meant to be, then it’s meant to be.

You gulp the impending wail in the back of your throat and force yourself to look her directly in the eye, “and… how does fate know it’s meant to be? Why don’t I, the bearer of my very own flesh and being, not have a say in my soulmate? I know who I love, I know who loves me—”

“—sh,” the woman harshly cuts you off, leaning forward to whisper a warning in the form of a matter of fact, “trust the system.”

At surface level, her eyes are devoid of empathy akin to the cold rules of the system, but the glimmers of her wavering gaze reminds you of the mother who fears for the future of her child. Powerless against the hands of destiny, you remain silent.

“I’m required by protocol to ask this of you,” the mother clears her throat as she gathers the piles of papers, “have you engaged in any form of the following activities?”

Handholding?

“No.”

You deny having grazed the soft skin of his hand for the first time in the meadows, concealed by the golden tall grass, far and away from the intrusive eyes of others. The callus which had just begun developing on his palms as a helper of the harvesting season, the first sign of maturation, still burns vividly in your memories.

Skinship?

“No.”

The radiance of the sun had never shone so brightly before; his hair glowed of light brown, nearly blond, the dewiness of his skin reflected the gift of God, and when he whirled around with his hands clenched firmly around yours and a smile plastered across his lips…? You had never believed in celestial beings, but if you had to on that very day, Jimin would have been the closest to an angel.

Relationships?

It takes you more than a second to respond, because how could someone ever deny the existence of feelings as fervent and real as this? Everything blazed of gold that day, his hair, his eyes, his smile, his very being, your heart, and you’re determined to protect them. This memory belonged to you and him only. No one could strip you of this right, not even destiny.

“No.”

Ms. Jung watches you for an uncomfortable second of a pause before nodding her head. She proceeds to pour a string of melted red wax onto your envelope as a seal of approval until, suddenly yet calmly, she catches sight of her son striding across the room from the corner of her eyes. “How’s Hoseok doing?”

“Hoseok?” you almost choke at the mention of his name, a stark contrast to the composed mother across from you. “Uh, I mean, he’s doing fine. I think. Yeah, he’s outscoring everyone in class if that says anything.”

“I know that, I’m his mother,” she laughs. “What I don’t know, however, is his life outside of home and work. His friends, hobbies, and… interests, things like that. You, Jimin, and Hoseok used to be so close. Where did all that time go? It's hard to believe you three are all grown up and ready to be wedded. Sometimes, I wish things could’ve stayed like that.”

“...yeah,” you utter under your breath, “I wished so, too.”

The mother sighs in fondness over the decades that had flown by in the blink of an eye. “I remember when I was 18. Mating Day was all the girls ever fussed about back then. We’d make bets on who ended up with who and some daredevils even vied to be paired with our crushes… is it still like that for you girls?”

“Um,” you pause, wondering if anything you say would be used against you before proceeding with caution, “I… don’t think so. At least I don’t.”

“Really?” she frowns. “Well, that’s good. I would advise you all not to let your hopes get the best of you. Sometimes, things end up for the best even if it doesn’t seem so at the forefront. I guess that’s why they instilled this system in the first place. If humans can’t find their soulmates, maybe magic is our only option. Perhaps marriages never worked out before our age.”

“You think so?”

“We could only make our best predictions all day and still end up with an indefinite answer,” her sighs come to an abrupt stop along with the shuffling of your papers, “and… do you know if Hoseok…?”

Oh, she must not be aware of Soyeon. Contrary to the tightly knit bond he had seemingly bore, Hoseok has refrained from introducing his one living parent to the lady of his future. Understandably, his mother’s spot in the Committee could play a role in his decision, but it still struck you as odd.

Three clients down the line, you manage to spot his head as he hands his own envelope to the staff before him. Peculiar that you had never noticed it until now, but from your angle, Hoseok appears much more capable of an individual than you had previously presumed. Perhaps it’s that taller stature and unwavering gaze of his, but he almost resembled a boy undergoing the coming of age.

The whole world has only just begun crashing down on you, a child still unfit for the harsh realities of the many years to come; but for Hoseok, that stern demeanor of his, determination ablaze in his orbs and shoulders ready to uphold the burdens of the future, bellows a silent warcry against any adversity who dares to pose a threat.

The boy presses on, eyes glued to the task before him, but something in you knows he was more than aware of your gaze. Truthfully, you don't mind his disregard for your states—in fact, you would rather keep it this way—but how peculiar is it that a mere human being could hear the unspoken motives of another? If someone were to ask you how you could be so sure of his disregard, you would have no proof but an instinctive feeling backed by baseless confidence and an intangible connection.

Conclusively, you hate to admit it, but he’s undeniably more capable than any boy or girl under this roof.

“He’ll be okay, Ms. Jung,” your hands instinctively reach out for hers before you could stop yourself; nevertheless, the pressed upturn of your lips makes its best effort to comfort the mother of a childhood friend. “He’ll get through whatever life has in store for him. I promise.”

“Ay…” she drawls, retracting her hands to quickly wipe the premature waterworks from her cheeks, “what am I worrying about? Tomorrow will be a new beginning for you children, I couldn’t be happier.”

“Right,” you force yourself to nod with a grin.

“Here are your files,” the mother returns the envelope over the counter. “The initiation will begin at dawn, so be in bed and asleep by midnight. When you awaken, that’s when the initiation officially begins. The terrain will resemble the village exactly, it’s like lucid dreaming. Instead of waking in your bedroom, however, your new location is decided by the system. The rules are as follows… One, you are free to roam. Two, violence is prohibited. Three, self harm is prohibited. Four, the first individual of the opposite sex you come across is officially your mate. Five, soulmates can not be traded or switched under any circumstances. Failure to participate and violations to any of the preceding rules will result in dire consequences. Any questions?”

How dire could the consequences be?

If it weren’t for the stress of her words and the haunting cases of missing classmates over the years keeping your mouth shut, curiosity would have gotten the best of you today.

“No, I understand. Do I need to sign anything?”

“No, the system only requires an oral obligation for the accountability of your actions,” the mother takes a deep breath and draws out a heavy sigh. For the first time since that fateful day buried deep in your recollections, Ms. Jung looks you eye-to-eye with utmost sincerity—one adulterated by sorrow. “I wish you nothing but happiness for the future.”

“Thank you, Ms. Jung.”

You’re only able to mumble your last words, for the buildup of tension drained you of vitality as you gather your belongings and make a strong, right turn toward the direction you came from. Quickly, you realize Hoseok had already finished checking in and gathered with Soyeon and Jimin from across the room. Soyeon keeps her head low, the platinum blond strands of hair providing curtains over her shifty eyes. On the other hand, the two boys watch intently as you approach them, one beaming with glee at the exuding confidence of his beloved and the other arching a brow at you in curiosity rather than concern.

“What took you so long?”

“Tch,” you click your tongue, “I take back everything positive I ever thought about you. I was talking to your mom, dumbass.”

“You? Positive? About me?” he clarifies grotesquely. “Good, I’d rather you take it back.”

“It’s fine by me no matter how long you take,” Jimin sing-songs, cheerfully embracing you and rocking you side to side but your eyes never ceases to shoot death glares at Hoseok. “As long as I have my baby back!”

“Why are you even here still?” you point at the boy accusedly.

“Actually,” he wraps an arm around Soyeon’s shoulder and she nearly jumped in surprise. “I wanted you to bring Soyeon along with you to the graduation ceremony.”

“Wait, why? I mean, I don’t mind, but why doesn’t she just go with you?”

Hoseok snorts, “are you dumb?”

Jimin hugs you even tighter and bursts into giggles when he notices you preparing to pounce at your enemy with fists raised, “we still have to change into our caps and gowns, remember?”

“So what? They’re dating, they can change together!”

The reactions that follow greatly vary as Soyeon’s cheeks turn beet red, Jimin’s cackles increases in volume, and Hoseok only scoffs.

“And?” he crosses his arms, tilting his chin as if to point at Jimin. “Have you ever seen Jimin naked?”

“Well, I mean, no,” you gape at his promiscuous remark. The smirk of victory plastered across his lips nearly gets your blood boiling as you huff in defeat and Jimin begins laughing so hard he has to nuzzle his head against your temple. “Fine, you win. Soyeon would have a much better time with me anyways, right?”

“Huh?” her eyes pop and she barely utters under her breath. “...I don’t know.”

This time, Hoseok joins Jimin in his fit of laughter and you’ve finally had enough. With a punch to Jimin’s arm, you retract yourself from his embrace, “you having fun laughing, huh?”

“I… I didn’t mean it that way!” Soyeon’s clutch to your arm surprises you.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, finally managing to break free from Jimin’s bear hug. “C’mon, Soyeon, let’s go.”

“Nooo, baby, I’m sorry!” Jimin tries his best at apologizing, tumbling over his incessant giggles. He taps at his cheek like a puppy looking for a prize, “at least give me a kiss before you go, hm? Please?”

Instead of succumbing to his desperate albeit adorable pleas, you answer with the link of Soyeon’s arms and marching off into the distance toward the doors. While you were determined to storm off without a glance back over your shoulder, Soyeon’s muffled giggles piques your interest.

“Nooo,” Jimin cries, hands dramatically reaching out toward you, “Y/N! Don’t leave me with him!”

“Him? It’s not like I want to be with you either,” Hoseok emphasizes, holding Jimin back and scolding, “quit it unless you want to get in trouble.”

“I’m sorry for being a bother… you really don’t have to accompany me,” Soyeon says ever-so-softly. “It’s just that I’ve always spent my breaks with Hoseok and I don’t really know any of our classmates…”

“Oh, it’s totally fine. I spend most of my time with Jimin, too,” you assure her with a light tug at your left arm which linked with hers, “just to set the record straight, I’m at war with Hoseok, not you. Although, you could have pretended to side with me for just a second—”

“—oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you…” she dips her head along with her voice. “The words just slipped before I knew it…”

“It’s okay! I was just joking!” you laugh nervously at her sudden timidness. How does someone as gentle and pristine as Soyeon handle someone like the rash and blunt Hoseok? If Soyeon was the lamb taming the lion Hoseok, then what would you and Jimin resemble? Unbeknownst to you, it would be a question left unanswered for the endless years to come. “You two do make a great couple, though.”

It’s the first time you hear Soyeon laugh so gleefully and something in you just knows the next two days would surely be a first of many.

The next of firsts arrives much earlier than you had unexpected and unpleasantly so. Previously, you had the false presumption of having made acquaintances of your every classmate, but when you skim around the classroom and fail to identify the explicit reasoning behind an inkling of uneasiness, you begin to doubt yourself.

What were their names? What did they look like? Where did they sit?

The shroud of questions only elevates the discomfort of having all the answers on the tip of your tongue yet arriving to none.

Today marks the first time a classmate of yours fell victim to one of the many missing cases.

“Well,” a man clears his throat and the booming, gruff voice of his snaps you back to reality.

The stout homeroom teacher paces in front of the green chalkboard but your eyes remain peeled to the opposite side of the classroom, where you suspect your missing classmates must have had resided. On your immediate right, Hoseok shoots you a quick glimpse, brows furrowed for a split second before redirecting to the front of the classroom. Jimin, to the left of empty spots where two desks would have fit so perfectly, blows you a kiss along with a cheeky grin, crescent eyes beaming with a transient joy that warms your heart.

“Today will be your last day in this classroom. Some of you never paid attention—” he directs a stern look at Jimin, who scrunches his shoulder and slumps into his chair in preparation for a disciplinary lecture that never comes “—some of you slept through class and still passed with flying colors—” this time it’s your turn to duck “—and some, well, one of you were the best model student I could have asked for—” Hoseok is shot with fourteen pairs of death glares but he remains neither content nor bothered “—nonetheless, you all made it.”

Maybe it’s the monumental step you’re all about to take, or maybe it’s the tears welling up in the figure of admiration you all had held at some point along the past fifteen years, but the air remains deafeningly silent, as if in a vain attempt to hold back the impending sobs. Everyone knows one another in this classroom, their stupid habits, fleeting hobbies, fervent crushes, and so, for the last time ever, everyone’s eyes remains on the graying elder pacing between the rows of desks.

“I’ve had the pleasure of teaching you rascals, every single one of you. I’ve watched you all grow from the little kids that you were into the wonderful men and women you are today,” he removes his square-framed glasses to rub the waterworks off his cheeks and his words become incomprehensible by the chokes that ensue, “and I hope that when y-you… h-have children, you’ll b-bring them to m-me, a-and—”

“—booooo,” everyone stares at the boy who had hollered, taken aback for a split second before bursting into laughter; even Mr. Wang begins choking on his laughs intermixed with jovial sobs, and you can finally confirm your long-held suspicion Jay had his own silver linings as a troublemaker. The boy’s lopsided grin is accompanied by snickers, “how long are you going to lecture us, Mr. Wang? I thought you said this would be our last!”

“Alright, alright,” the teacher lets out one last chuckle before gesturing to the boy beside you, “well, then, would you do the honors for the last time, student representative?”

The boy nods, pushing his seat back effortlessly and standing to his feet with one swift, confident sway. His gaze remains fixated neither on the teacher nor the classmates, rather, his laser-like attention devotes itself to a far more intangible phenomenon invisible to anyone but him—and it could have just been you or the entire class, but you’re incapable of looking away.

“Everyone, stand,” Hoseok orders and everyone obeys with a loud screeching of chairs. “Ready and bow.”

In a fleeting moment of unity, the students bow in respect for the retirement of the past caretaker and in the face of the daunting future.

“Thank you, Mr. Wang!”

“You kids are really going to make me cry,” he shakes his head yet the grin sits proudly on his face, “you are all officially dismiss—”

—the words just barely escape his lips when the class erupts into a roar. Classmates dart for the front of the class, pushing you along into the mass of students. You’re forced to follow the lead of the swarm when, suddenly, the teacher is thrown into the air and brought out into the hallway, intentionally joining forces with the neighboring classrooms. Despite being squished, pushed, and pulled in a mob of barbaric students, you can’t help but break out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter; and all the while, Jimin is the only one on your mind.

“Jimin! Where are you?” you call out to him and turn gleefully when someone taps you on your left shoulder. To your surprise, you spot an unexpected face of a bellowing classmate; and amidst the chaotic confusion, a familiar pair of lips plants a firm kiss to your right cheek.

It goes without saying, your heart swells into an immediate mush and you can’t help but laugh.

“Right here, princess,” Jimin links his arm around yours, nose wrinkling in the company of his cheeky grin. “I finally got my kiss.”

You shake your head, “but I didn’t kiss you.”

“No, but I kissed you and that’s even better,” he coos.

“That’s not playing by the rules, though.”

“No? Then I guess you can punish me… with five more kisses!”

You can barely respond amidst your giggles, “how is that a punishment?”

“You’re right, what could possibly be better than my kisses?” he pouts, fluttering his eyelids to feign innocence.

Hastily scanning the hall for the peering eyes of teachers, all of whom are too preoccupied with being thrown into the air, you intertwine your fingers with his. “Actually, you know, I am kind of disappointed that none of the teachers know about us…”

“Aw, baby, I would want the whooole world to know if I could,” Jimin sulks, “but we’ll have to wait until tomorrow, so five kisses for now would be easier!”

The corners of your lips stretch even wider and you could even feel your cheeks growing sorer by the second when you crane your neck back to avoid Jimin’s oncoming puckered lips.

“—hey Y/N, if that man doesn’t stop disrespecting you,” the both of you glance wide-eyed at Jay, who follows along at the side of the swarming crowd. A sharp gasp inflates your lungs when the boy winks, clearly neglecting Jimin’s scowl, “you know who to get. Match with me tomorrow?”

“What?!” Jimin’s shouts of fury are buried by the cheers of the crowd. Jay only shrugs nonchalantly, preparing for a sprint down the hall when Jimin raises his fists. “I’m not disrespecting my baby! She enjoys my kisses!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night—”

“—quit interrupting our banters!”

...and just like that, the boys disappear into the distance, one giving chase and the other snickering tauntingly.

Shaking your head, you could only roll your eyes at what had just played out before you. The euphoric adoration for Jimin had been enough to numb the pain of being shuffled around mercilessly in the crowd, but it doesn’t take long until your body comes to acknowledge its toll.

“Alright, quit it! I’m out!” you try to maneuver your way out, yet to no one’s surprise, the flashmob misconstrues your pleas as a cheer to fight on. Groaning as loudly as you could, you yell, “stop pushing—”

“—get out of the way if you can’t handle it, then,” the familiar husk of a voice irks your ears when a firm pair of hands settles on your shoulders and moves you to the outside of the crowd. Peering up at the boy, you grimace at his backhanded gesture of an aid. Hoseok ignores your glare with a question, “did you see Soyeon anywhere?”

“I don’t know. I’m in the same class as you, dumbass.”

“Whoa, okay, calm down tiger, just asking,” Hoseok throws his hands up in defeat.

In the midst of rolling your eyes, you spot Jimin at the opposite end of the hall. Completely devoted to showing Jay a piece of his mind, Jimin proceeds to slap the boy, who ducks from his attacks, along with several jabs to his bottom with a knee. Eyes diverting to the more proximal boy whom you could catch staring at you from your peripheral vision, you quirk a brow at Hoseok’s snide, lopsided grin.

“What?”

“Nothing,” an impertinent chortle follows, “I’m just trying to stop myself from puking after witnessing just how smitten you are.”

“I swear, you’re going to be the death of me someday,” you raise a threatening hand but Hoseok’s gaze remains fixated on you, hands buried in his pockets, and stance unbudged.

You hadn’t noticed until now, when that devilish smirk of his gradually shifts to a genuine symbol of bliss more resembling to the childhood friend you had once known, you finally realize the fortunate spot you had taken amidst the crowd. While you suffer little to no impact, Hoseok's widened stance jostled, arms constantly bumped into and legs nearly tripped under the endless stream of incoming passersby.

"Yeah?" he arches a brow. "You look awfully happy to me right now."

"Of course," you quickly add, "because of Jimin."

"Why?" his smile grows wider. "Because after today you'll finally be allowed to kiss your boyfriend in public?"

The sheepish chortle that slips from your lips is enough of an answer.

"Well," Hoseok chuckles, the burning gaze of his still fixated on you, "I'm glad at least one of us is happy."

"What?" you frown. "Are you not?"

The boy refrains from answering, or perhaps he did, for he simply presses a thin, small upturn of a smile at you and takes a step to the side. Your body nearly collapses to the floor when several students forcefully weave their way in between the two of you.

There it is, again, your sheer, utter confidence of his indifference toward the look of concern plastered all over your face as he redirects his attention to the teachers being flying into the air; but before you could inquire any further, an arm links with your right elbow and tugs you to the back and away from the crowd.

"Jimin?"

"C'mon," he has to cup a hand over your ears, lips grazing against your burning red ears. "I have something to show you."

"Wait, but our celebration—"

"Would you rather waste your time in this chaos or spend your time alone with me?"

The beat of a heart is all it takes for you to squeeze his hand in agreement and his to squeeze yours.

"Ahh, how lucky am I to have someone as cute as you," he gushes and you can't help the rush of blood that rushes to your cheeks, "I always knew we were meant to be."

The words didn't need to be said, for your silence is enough of a declaration to the universe.

I did too.

…and so, the Prince whisks you away into a land only fathomable in the reminiscence of a dream.

At a brief, magical fragment in time, when the cheers fade into the distance of the past and the hollers become a facade of the present as they remain ringing in your ears, golden hour strikes.

You could tell from the way the Sun screams into the skies—loud, red, ethereal.

You could tell from the way the meadow is set ablaze into a treasure chest of gold.

You could tell from the way the zephyrs brushes gently past two pairs of shoulders and trails along the field akin to the blue waves in the aftermath of a calamity.

You could tell from the way he breaths, slow, soft, and cautious to prolong the delicacy of this moment in time, from the way he keeps his gaze fixated on one too abashed to reciprocate, in fondness and complete awe, from the way neither of you spoke yet proclamations of affection deafen the gray silence.

This undeniable connection could never be put into words.

“I guess this is our last time in the school yard, huh?” you speak, finally mustering the courage to meet his tender gaze. The smile dancing on those pressed lips of his only widens in response. “You know, we’ve watched the sun set here together so many times, but I don’t think it’s ever looked this beautiful.”

“Mm…” Jimin hums. “Maybe the sun is celebrating with us today?”

“Celebrating?”

“Yeah—” he lets in a small gasp and points to your left “—what’s going on over there?!”

“What?” your neck turns so abruptly that you could almost feel a strain coming on. “What’s going on?”

In a magical spur of the moment, a gust of wind passes by as it rustles the meadow and trees beneath its wing span. The breeze serves as a perfect cover-up for the boy who lets out a muffled huff while the wooden bench dips and his foot stomps to stir the dirt beneath.

“Jimin, I literally don’t see anything,” you squint one last time off into the distance of the empty meadow before whirling back around only to stumble upon another one of his antics.

There, sitting still and basking in the warmth of the sun flooring upon his cheeks and yours, Jimin grins cheekily with a bouquet of white flowers.

“—tada!” he sings, handing you the arrangement. “Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Wha—but for what?” you hold the flowers close to your chest, still agape by the surprise.

“For graduating.”

“But you graduated, too…?”

“...and for your birthday,” he continues.

“My… birthday…” you narrow your eyes at him, “is next week… did you already forget?”

“I know, I know,” Jimin laughs, smile wider than ever until he settles into the whispers of the ephemeral breeze. He watches you tenderly. “How would I ever forget my baby’s birthday?”

You struggle to speak as he pinches your cheeks, “then why are you handing me this now?”

“Mm…” the grin remains even as he presses his lips, eyes gazing off to the skies before returning to you, “because this is more romantic and now you’re ruining it!”

“Ah…”

“What? You don’t want it? Fine, I like flowers too, you know,” Jimin attempts to retract the flowers from you in a fit of laughter but your bear hug to his arm prevents him from doing so.

“Nope, too late, they’re mine,” your head rests comfortably in the crook of his neck, “and just so you know, I don’t need presents anymore. You’re the best one I could ever ask for.” The boy only chuckles softly, head turning to place a firm kiss to your head. His hand weaves through your locks of hair as he patted the back of your head gently before wrapping an arm over your shoulder to pull you in tighter. “Hey, do you remember the first time you ever gave me a flower? And I say a flower because it was literally one flower.”

Jimin erupts into cackles and you smile just knowing the sheepish look on his face right now as he throws his head back in embarrassment. “You mean the first time I ever broke the law and stole something from work just to officially ask you out four years ago?”

“Yep,” you join him in his laughter, “didn’t we meet back here, too?”

“Mhm.”

“Would you count that as our first date, then?” you ponder.

“Maybe,” he pauses and chortles, “but I like to think that Hoseok was just third-wheeling on our dates before high school.”

A transient set of laughter ensues before the two of you bask in the silence, vicariously reminiscing over the memories of the other.

It had never been easier to leap through time.

“So this is it, huh? Our last day together as students.”

“Soon we’ll be married and having kids of our own,” he turns to place another kiss to your forehead.

“Do you… feel like you’re ready?”

“Well, we just finished school and now we’re suddenly expected to become full-fledged adults, not to mention parents. It’s a bit overwhelming,” he sighs but you could feel the rise of his cheeks pressed against your head as he smiles, “but I’m ready for anything as long as I’m with you.”

“Oh, what’s this? Jimin is actually being serious for once? As much as I enjoyed it, I have to say you were awfully needy today.”

His nose scrunches at your teases when a mischievous grin replaces his discontent.

“Then can I have my kiss now?”

“You already have! At least three times by now,” you stress.

“Ay,” Jimin bashfully laughs with eyes fixated on your lips longingly, “you know what I mean!”

An innate reflex of self mechanism brings your hands to your prized possession but the flush of beet red on your cheeks gives you away. “You can tomorrow.”

His laughs become a homogeneous mix of nerves and frustration, “why tomorrow? I want to kiss you nooow.”

Why tomorrow? He’s right. Why tomorrow and does it have anything to do with the burning anxiety that gnaws at your chest, constricting your airway and highlighting the fear of this very moment’s transience in that when you awaken tomorrow morning, he could and would no longer remain by your side?

Hastily, you nuzzle your head into his shoulder once again in a fruitless attempt to mask your greatest nightmares. You point to the tall, sturdy oak tree that had aged like fine wine throughout your childhood years, “think about it, we’ll meet out there in the fields where we first met, where we fell in love for the first time, and we’ll meet out there again in our dreams, have our first kiss, and start our future together all under the very same tree.”

His silence has your heart dangling at the edge of a cliff and you lift your head to find him gazing off into fields, perhaps sulking or reminiscing but most definitely riddled with deep thoughts.

“Yeah, Jimin?” you gently shake his arm. “Let’s meet over there tonight. It doesn’t matter where and when we start initiation. We can wait for each other. Yeah?”

“But we don’t need to do that.” the corner of his lips curve ever-so-slightly as he finally gives you a soft smile. “The system functions on the basis of soulmates. Who could be a better match than us two?”

“I know, but… but what if it doesn’t work?”

“It’s always worked, Y/N. How has our village survived and repopulated for all these years?”

“I know,” you emphasize, brows furrowing at the orchestration of pain hammering against your chest with each beat. “I know, Jimin, but does the system really always work? I mean—” you scramble to gather the thoughts that stings within your bloodstream “—did you not notice how two of our classmates are missing? It’s terrible, I can’t even remember their names but I could have sworn I knew them, and even if I don’t know who they were, the memories of when we talked and when we laughed, they’re all gone and no one seems to notice!”

“Y/N…?” Jimin lets out a nervous laugh. “What’re you going on about…?”

“You don’t remember, do you?” The myriad of incessant, sleepless nights come crashing down on you all at once. “The missing numbers in our village, the abandoned houses made out to be new infrastructure, no one questions it and I’m starting to wonder if I really am going crazy—”

“—Y/N,” his apathetic tone adorns the stoic look on his face and he meets the wavering gaze of yours straight on, “I don’t know what’s been going on recently, but it will be okay. It will work. Questioning things is useless, it’ll just bring you more stress. Try not to worry for me, even if someday for whatever reason I’m not there to remind you to, please don’t ever carry the burden all by yourself okay?”

“Fine, but just,” you struggle to take a calm, deep breath of air amidst the wavering waves that escapes, “just promise me this once, okay Jimin?”

“It’ll be ok—”

“—Jimin!”

The both of you are taken aback by your cry and you’re riddled with regret at the sight of unforgivable guilt plastered on his now softened features.

“Okay,” he utters under his breath, squeezing your hand, “I promise.”

Are you truly descending into madness? Or is this a momentary shock from the overwhelming fear of the unknown? The mysteries of the village and the horrid consequences of the system could have been conjured from the nightmares amassed throughout the months leading up to tonight, but lit in the darkness of uncertainty, the warmth of Jimin’s hands, beckoning for you to come forth, is enough of a reason to forget, even if just momentarily.

“Plus,” Jimin breaks the stillness of the air with a chuckle, “the only person we should be worrying about is Hoseok.”

“Oh—” the thought had completely been overlooked “—you’re right. If the system truly works, then why is it that the Jung’s always have the worst luck of the draw?”

“I… don’t know. There isn’t anything we can do about it and I’ve always hated how I’d spend hours and hours just wondering what I could do, but I don’t know.”

The sun draws its color from the skies with it, leaving traces of its wake along the impending night soon to befall upon it, and all you could do was watch.

“It’s scary,” you hug Jimin’s arms closer to your chest and he glances at you in utter awe, “to be a mere child and have everyone warning you about who you meet and who you play with and how you could very well meet the catalyst of your own death simply because of the blood you’re born with.”

“Aww, is my baby actually concerned for Hoseok?” Jimin cackles at your scowl. “Well, everyone knows about the curse of being married into the Jungs, but that doesn’t seem to stop girls from fawning over him, does it? He is smart after all… and tall…”

“What,” this time it’s your turn to tease, “are you jealous?”

“Nope!” he nuzzles his head against yours. “I don’t care how many girls like me because I only have eyes for you.”

“Right, right,” your laughs are whisked away by a breeze. “Who knows? Maybe Hoseok might even end up with Soyeon. I hate to admit it, but they’re a pretty good match. I can tell she really loves him. I don’t know about Soyeon, but she must be his soulmate. Hah, wouldn’t he just love that?”

“You think so? I have a feeling he’ll be okay,” Jimin hums passively but when you glimpse at him, his eyes scream ‘I will save you.’

A pause ensues.

“You know, as much as I dislike that boy and regardless of how long it’s been since we hung out six years ago, he’s still our friend. To be honest, a part of me doesn’t want tomorrow to ever come. Things are perfect the way they are now. We’re together and Hoseok is fine and happy with Soyeon. I feel bad for using his name against him today.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We all make mistakes. I’m sure he won’t hold it against you. I don’t know how but we’ll save him if it ever comes down to it, right, Y/N?” he smiles softly when you nod timidly. “Most importantly, don’t be scared of tomorrow. We’ll get through whatever life throws at us together, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So…” Jimin utters under his breath, low, raspy, nearly inaudible, but you could sense the oncoming cheekiness of his. “Can I kiss you now?”

“I said tomorrow!”

Your attempts to avoid his watchful gaze prove to be in vain when heat flushes your skin and you catch Jimin grinning in amusement from the corner of your eyes.

Heartstrings are tugged—plucked, even—as he leans in to place his lips against your right cheek. He waits, prolonging the momentary freeze in time, before finally pulling away and squeezing your hand.

“Come on, let’s go. It’s getting dark now.”

Despite his beckoning, the boy allows you to take the lead home. Your hand remains snug in his, guiding him forward with small, reluctant strides until he finally comes to a stop. The world spins as you’re whirled around by a tug at the hand and you find yourself stranded in the middle of a field in the arms of your love.

“Jimin?”

Your words fall upon deaf ears, for the stern, intent look of his eyes that stirs your beating chest and the butterflies in your stomach.

“Can I kiss you?”

His hands trail up your arms, grazing your skin along the way, until they cup each of your cheeks. Gradually, ever so slowly, he approaches, watching your every motion. He held you, firmly yet gently, and you just know he could see through your every emotion, from the electricity that runs to your extremities to the flip of your heart that waits in anticipation with each inch of his encroachment; for just before your eyes flutter closed, you spot the curve dancing in the corner of his lips.

Finally, he closes the remaining distance.

Time comes to a halt.

His flesh is soft, warm, and dewy against yours. He caresses you softly, as if fearful of breaking his most prized delicacy in his very own hands.

Tender and with love, you share your last firsts of today; but when you pull away, his hands stop yours from leaving the nape of his neck.

“Again.”

...and again, and again.

Having completed its grand finale, the sun sets and reluctantly so.

The magnitude of the challenge that comes with tonight finally dawns upon you.

You could still feel the reminiscence of his touch on your lips as you lay on your bed, too stirred to fall asleep. Staring at the ceiling above, you shut your eyes and bask in the rarity of complete silence within your now empty household.

You have two options. One, you knock yourself out into sleep now and get this initiation over with. Two, you sneak out of the house, risk being caught, possibly miss the start of initiation, and tire yourself out into sleep.

As with every Mating Day, every parent should be gathered in the headquarters of the village where you had checked in earlier today, so you figured no one should be roaming outside. Even if there were to be unexpected spectators, stealth came second to your innate senses, for you had snuck out to meet Jimin in his house or the schoolyard countless times before.

In reality, there isn’t anything but answers that could halt these restless thoughts of yours. Jimin’s adamant trust in the system, his reluctance to meet with you, and the missing classmates that had gone under the radar strike you with concern on the most important of nights. You needed assurance from another perspective; and so, you find yourself creeping along the plain fields, the absence of tall grass keeping you completely out in the open where, fortunately, only the moon bore witness to your rendezvous.

“What’re you doing?”

The sound of his voice incites goosebumps on your arms along with the chilly, still air of the night.

“What took you so long? I’m freezing out here,” you glare at the boy who stands at his doorside; the moonlight illuminates the thick locks of his chestnut locks, fresh out of a shower, and you catch a golden reflection of light glowing from somewhere within his house.

“Who told you to come here?” Hoseok scoffs. “Never mind freezing, what if you’re caught sneaking around with that dumb stance of yours?”

It takes you a long second to realize what he was referring to. Straightening your back and dropping your hands to your side, you cough in a failed attempt to clear the air.

“And what about you? You’re not supposed to be opening doors for strangers, for anyone, actually, tonight.”

Hoseok quirks a brow at your rebuttal, chuckling lowly and adorning a lopsided curve of the lips. “Fine, you win. Come in before anyone catches you and you’re really left for dead.”

“Wow, are you really that freaked out by tonight because the Hoseok I know would never give up so easily.” The boy only shrugs mischievously, stepping aside as you step foot into his household. “Welp, fine by me—”

—but your words are cut short when wind is knocked from your lungs and you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, whirling and pushing you around against the closed door. In the blink of an eye, you find yourself in a familiar household of your childhood with an unfamiliar boy hovering above you with darkened eyes.

“And you’re not supposed to be entering stranger’s houses tonight, huh? What do you think about that, Y/N?” he cocks his head.

“You’re,” you huff, struggling to hold your breath in the proximity of his face to yours, “you’re not a stranger.”

“Oh but I am.”

“We might have stopped talking a long time ago—” the way you stumble nervously over your own words reminds you of just how long it’s been since you had been alone with Hoseok “—but I still know you. It’s not like you’re a stranger all of a sudden.”

“Yeah?” he raises a brow, finally dropping the hand that had hovered over you next to where he pinned you onto the wall. He takes a step back, crosses his arms against his chest, and cocks his head to the right. Following his gesture, your sights land on two flowers perched on a shelf, one with gilded petals that reflect the golden glow of the display lights and another with similar petals that seem to have just begun withering. “What’re those called then?”

“What does that have anything to do with this?” you frown when he remains unbudged, waiting for your answer. “Uh… I haven’t seen anything like that in our textbooks.”

“Then you don’t know me,” he leans against the back of a couch in the living room, “and I thought you were ranked second in our school.”

“It’s a flower in your living room,” you groan when he refuses to see any insight to your argument. “Alright, what’s it called then, Student Representative?”

“A dandelion.”

“A what?”

“A dandelion,” he chortles, eyes diverting to the display as it glows a vibrant gold. “Some people call it a Lion’s Tooth because of its petals, but when it wilts into a white puff of seeds, something as weak as even the breeze can destroy it like the lion it never was. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Nerd,” you scoff. “Plus, doesn’t the wind disperse the seeds so it can repopulate in other areas?”

“Nerd,” he mocks, returning his attention to you with a crooked grin. “So? Why’re you desperate enough to spend time alone with me and not Jimin?”

“Is your mom home?”

“Would I have let you in if she was?” Hoseok deadpans. “She’s not exempt from the rules. She’s at headquarters with the rest of the parents.”

“Good, because I have something… serious to ask you about.”

Hoseok raises both brows inquisitively, seemingly taken aback by someone whom had never sought aid from him before. “All ears.”

“Did you happen to…” you beat around the bush in consideration for the promise you made with Jimin.

“Would you spit it out already—”

“—did you happen to notice two of our classmates missing today?”

Eyes shut and heart pounding, Hoseok’s silence is deafening.

“...three.”

“Huh?” your eyes snap open and you find him looking off to the side.

“Three rows of desks,” he continues, the stoic gaze of his meeting yours, “none of them were missing. In other words, no.”

Ironically, the sunken weight in chest tells you something in his observation had disappointed you; but what do you have to be disappointed over? Jimin was right, you had nothing to worry about. The excessive stress is starting to get the best of you through these imaginary classmates of yours.

“Oh, haha…” you force a nervous laughter, scratching your neck in the loss of a purpose. “I guess I really am going crazy then…”

Hoseok only watches you, arms crossed and gaze hardened, each one of you wondering just what was going on in the mind of the other.

“Did you come here just to ask me that?” Hoseok finally breaks the silence. “Why didn’t you ask Jimin?”

Should you tell him about the conversation? Would it be odd to confide in a long lost friend over your love conundrums? Instead of answering, you cross arms in defense.

“What? Is this your first fight with him?” he muses, standing upright and pulling the gray hood of his outerwear over his head. You could only watch in bewilderment of his accurate prediction as he walks past you and out the door. Following in his footsteps, you shut the door behind you. “C’mon, it’s getting late. I’ll walk you home.”

“What?” you profusely shake your head. “It’s fine. I can walk myself home. Go get some sleep.”

“Look, I’m not doing this because I want to, but I’m not an asshole and I don’t want to hear Jimin yelling at me if anything were to happen to you,” he beckons again, tilting his head in the direction of your home and burying his hands in his pockets. “C’mon.”

The walk home seems to take much longer than your way on up here now that the reality of the surreal moment had settled in. You had just visited the house of a childhood friend now coined acquaintance, and now you’re walking home with said boy without a single subject that tied the two of you together other than the past.

“So…” your breath’s penmanship manifests in puffs of white amidst the night air. “How did you know it was me?” Hoseok turns his head to quirk a brow at you. “I mean, I know you’re not dumb enough to open the door for just anyone tonight, especially… not you.”

Hoseok stares at you long enough for you to become self-conscious, obviously contemplating on the omission of truth. “I could always tell it was you whenever you knocked.”

Eyes widening, the implications of his answer dawns upon you as his hands lift toward the sky and his raised forefinger casts a shadow onto the grass. His moonlit tan, honey-like skin and glimmering orbs are a near carbon copy to the friend you once knew.

“We have maybe an hour or two left until initiation begins. What’re you gonna do if you miss it? You scared?” Hoseok teases fall short when he glances over at you to find an apathetic look on your face. “Whoa, I was just joking. You think I can actually tell time like this—”

“—Hoseok, are you scared?”

“That’s not even a good comeback—”

“—no, I mean,” you blurt, “I don’t know if Soyeon or anyone’s ever checked on you, but given your family name, are you scared?”

Hoseok stares at you, lips fallen slightly agape and expression too hard to read for a mere acquaintance like you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. Please just ignore—”

“—sure I am,” he answers and you could no longer feel the subsequent rapid heartbeats that follow. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn't. Wanna know a secret?” The boy continues despite the lack of an answer. “I’ve spent every single night for the past couple of years theorizing and compiling a list of all the possible outcomes of tonight.”

“...and?”

“I think I’ve narrowed it down to who it might be.”

The boy’s gaze remains fixated on you, perhaps out of curiosity, amusement, or even concern over your lack of a response. The truth is, you weren’t sure how to comfort him if that time were to come.

“Who it might be…?”

“You know. Of all people, you and Jimin must know,” he muses. “My accursed mate.”

“Oh,” you dip your head low, hoping to conceal the windows to your soul, “I’m sure that’s just a myth, Hoseok. The system works, doesn’t it? You’ll be fine. You’ll probably end up with Soyeon anyways. You guys really compliment each other.”

“Yeah?” he stops abruptly in his path and you do the same. “You think she’s my soulmate?”

“And you don’t?”

Hoseok lets out a soft chuckle, “I could only hope.”

I’ll save you. Jimin and I will save you.

The thoughts could never find its way out of the labyrinth of your mind.

“Alright, I’d rather have you screaming profanities at me again than watch you stare at me with pity.”

“Um,” you pause, “I feel bad for whoever ends up with you to be honest.”

The boy erupts into cackles, one that hasn’t seen the light of day in years—or at least to you.

“Yeah, I hope I don’t end up with her either,” he muses, pacing a few steps back away from the front doorsteps of your home. He calls out from afar, “anyways, go get some rest and live your happily ever after with Jimin. Thanks for the concern, but I’ll figure things out on my own.”

“Are you sure…” you say weakly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I always have.”

With one last soft smile, he makes a run for home, far off into the inconspicuous distance.

The long-awaited night comes to an all-time proximity when, out of the blue, a thundering clatter to your window rattles you awake. The night must have been aging, for the room is pitch-black and the village is left in utter silence as people drifted off to sleep.

Nothing should have been outside your house.

Moonlight seeping through the slit of your curtains, you rub your dreary eyes and climb off your bed to wearily draw open your curtains—

“—Y/N! I know you’re in there!”

“What—” your fury grows with each second as you pull open the curtains and step out into the balcony, glaring at the boy on the first floor of your yard, “—what the fuck are you doing here, Jay?!”

“I told you… I’d come,” his words are slurred and you surmise the involvement of alcohol, a forbidden substance for those underage, to be a main catalyst for his summoning, “waltzing in… for you if Jimin doesn’t...”

“Go home, Jay. You disgusting animal,” you hiss. “If you stay here any longer, you’re gonna get caught and you might even miss initiation!”

“C’mon,” he beckons and begins climbing the vines along the walls of your house before falling multiple times in his drunken state. “We can start initiation toge—”

“—Jay, for the last time,” your eyes pop open and you begin to wonder whether you were truly dreaming when you spot Jimin grabbing Jay at his air and pulling him to the floor. “I’m going to beat your ass dead if you don’t fucking go.”

Jay attempts several sloppy punches that land in thin air and you nearly grimace at the wheezes of air forcibly knocked out of his windpipes.

“Tch, go!” Jimin points to the direction opposite of your house. “Now!”

Leaving the boy on the ground, heaving for air, Jimin swiftly climbs up the familiar vines, grabbing your hand and leaping into your balcony. The neglect for rest seems to take its toll on the boy’s body when his knees buckle on his landing, sending the both of you tumbling to the floor. In mid-flight, however, Jimin somehow manages to break the fall, for you find yourself on his chest instead of the hard concrete.

“Jimin,” your eyes widen at the boy who only grins cheekily at you, “am I dreaming? Why are you here?”

“Real question is, why is that guy here?”

Having forgotten the fallen boy, the two of you hastily stumble to your feet and peer over the balcony.

Empty.

Except for traces of blood that marks the floor, no one is in sight.

“Where’d... where’d he go?” you shudder in the cold wrath of the night and the tingles that run in your adrenaline-driven blood. “He just… he just disappeared—”

“—Y/N, look over there!” Jimin hisses under his breath.

Following the direction of his pointed finger, you squint hard enough to spot a familiar figure walking off in the distance. A petrifying chill runs down your spine.

“What’s Ms. Jung doing out here?”

The next thing you know, Jimin clutches your hand and shoves the both of you into your house, quickly turning around to slam the balcony door shut and locked.

“What’s she doing out there?” you repeat. “Patrolling? Did she catch Jay? What happened to him?”

“I-I don’t know, Y/N,” he walks you to your bed, gently seating the both of you against your bed frame.

“Should we report to her what just happened? Does she know? Are we going to miss initiation—”

“—sh, Y/N, shh,” his cupped hands thaw the ice of your cheeks. “I’m sure Ms. Jung has it all handled. She’s probably patrolling to make sure things like this doesn’t happen. What matters is that we’re safe and we have enough time to start initiation, alright?”

“R-right…” you follow Jimin’s lead and take numerous deep breaths. With his hand in yours and your arm wrapped around his, you lay your head on the crook of his neck. It’s difficult to resume a normal pace of breathing, even in the comforts of his embrace, but you had no choice but to shove matters into the back of your mind. In the wake of Mating Day, time constraints force you to delay matters into tomorrow’s hands. “Wait, what’re you doing here, Jimin? How did you know to come?”

“I didn’t,” he squeezes your hand. “I felt bad for the way things happened earlier today. I just wanted to be with you tonight and happened to stumble upon Jay… I tried to stop him from coming here but I didn’t know how rough I had to be until I saw him toss a rock at your window...”

“Oh,” you mutter and force your eyes shut, hugging the boy even closer to your chest. “Well, I guess it was meant to be. Thank you… for always being there for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll always be there for you,” his words are muffled as he kisses your head, “soon enough, we’ll be marrying and starting a family in a house of our own and I can be there for you as many infinite times you want.”

“Okay,” you grin, “that sounds good.”

“But before we can do that,” he gives you one last kiss, “we should get some sleep.”

This would be the final silence of the night before Mating Day—long, formidable, and ear-splitting. With so many words left unspoken, the both of you know that eventually, somehow, and painstakingly so, you would be able to find comfort in the confinement of the other, notwithstanding the difficulty of recovery; and so, eventually, you’re able to mentally sigh in relief when drowsiness dawns upon you.

“Hey, Y/N?” Jimin’s gruff indicates to you that the both of you would be entering dreamland soon enough, together.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“Mm,” you hum with a smile.

“I love you.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll always love you.”

“Okay,” you hold him even tighter, “and I’ll always love you.”

Daylight breaks sooner than expected, for your eyelids squint even tighter shut in the wake of the sun’s blinding rays. As your senses awaken along with your body, you gradually become conscious of your unusual surroundings. Your fingertips plant into a pool of warmth rubbles akin to dirt and your skin from head to toe basks in the kiss of the sun. You could smell the earthy scent of the meadow intermixed with freshly watered plants and you could hear the soft rustling of the wind against the tall grass.

You could identify this place anywhere, even in your sleep.

This must be the start of initiation.

Smiling to yourself, you stumble to your feet as blood rushes to your feet and you flutter your eyes open to the familiar schoolyard.

With the exception of the excessive beams of the sun, everything is exactly the same as you had memorized it in reality.

There isn’t anything to be scared of.

Your next step is to find the tree, which, if you were correct, should be right behind you; and, as if in sole happenstance or the works of fate, you have an inkling of the beholder to your promise standing, waiting for your turnaround.

A euphoric rush of relief and bliss in knowing that it was meant to be all along, you whirl around and call out to your heart’s content.

“Jimin—”

—but your heart stops just as abruptly as your beckoning and as cutthroat as the wails knotted in your throat; because off in the distance, the silhouette of your mate is a stark contrast to your one and only.

Chestnut hair tousled by the breeze, eyes heavy-lidded by the daunting future neither of you desired, and a prim demeanor resting on his lips, you finalize reach an epiphany.

You had been his curse all along.

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voyager-into-the-unknown · 4 years

Text

Plance Secret Santa Fic for Nadia

Moonlight

After months of space travel, the team had been fortunate enough to find an uninhabited Earth-like planet to land upon and make camp while their lions recharged. Pidge had gathered data on the environment and determined that the air was breathable and the water was safe to drink.

Lance tossed and turned on his thin camp mattress, unable to sleep. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of his fellow teammate for whom he had developed some very strong feelings, and he wondered how long he could keep his feelings a secret. She was always foremost in his thoughts all day, and apparently all night as well. This particular night was quite warm, too warm to wear his his Paladin pajamas. He had gone to bed wearing only a pair of blue boxers and a white T-shirt. Hunk was asleep, snoring just loud enough to distract him. Silently, Lance had crept out of the tent he shared with Hunk and laid out his mattress, pillow, and light blanket under the starlit sky, hoping that the night air would be cool enough to help him sleep. He had no such luck. He tossed and turned even more, then finally settled upon counting the unfamiliar stars and naming the new constellations that he had imagined when gazing at the night sky, but to no avail. He still couldn’t fall asleep. Thinking of the nearby lake with it’s cold, clean water, he made up his mind: it was time for a late night swim.

He quietly entered the tent to grab a towel from his supplies, then put on his sneakers. The lake was only a short walk from the Paladins’ camp. When he arrived at the shore, he hung up his towel on a low hanging tree limb, took off his shoes, and removed his T-shirt, then hung it up next to his towel. Just as he was considering removing his shorts to bathe, he heard a sound. Something was moving in the water. He froze, realizing that he had forgotten his Bayard back at the camp. If some dangerous creature lurked in the dark water before him, he had no way to defend himself!

Lance’s view was obscured by the reeds that grew along the lakeshore, but as he moved silently through the shadows he found a break in the barrier of reeds a bit farther along the shore. The tranquil surface of the lake was broken by a slim figure of someone who had just emerged from the depths. A mermaid? No, he wouldn’t be lucky enough to meet one of those again. The figure turned to one side, and he saw a lovely silhouette in the moonlight. Definitely female, but with only a subtle hint of feminine curves. She had a bosom, but she definitely wasn’t buxom enough to be Allura or Romelle. She wasn’t naked, but seemed to be wearing some type of green sports bra and briefs, and her skin was pale by the light of the planet’s single moon. He just stood there, transfixed by her graceful movements through the water. His breathing quickened. She was so beautiful he couldn’t stop staring at her.

“Who’s there?” asked a familiar voice. It was Pidge! Lance began to panic. Pidge would kill him if she knew he had been spying on her while she went for a midnight swim in her underwear. He should have fled, but it was too late. She was swimming toward him, and suddenly stopped several feet from the shore.

“Lance? What are you doing here?” She sounded rather upset.

“Uh, hi. I was just going for a late night swim.” He hoped it was dark enough to hide how much he was blushing.

“You shouldn’t be here!” she hissed angrily.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not dressed!” She had stayed far enough from shore that only her head and shoulders were above the waterline.

“I’m not either. Anyway, I’ve already seen you swimming in your underwear, so it’s only fair that you see me swimming in mine.” He waded toward her until he was as deep into the water as she was. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway? It could be dangerous.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted.

“Me, too. It’s too hot and Hunk snores louder than howling bogbeast.”

She giggled. He swam closer to her, and she backed away from him a little. “Lance, it’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that this is a bit...awkward.” He hair was slicked back, and she wasn’t wearing her glasses. Even by the dim light of the full moon he could see that her cheeks were very flushed. Lance couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Pidge. You’ve got a really cute figure,” he blurted out, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“Oh, so you have finally realized that I’m a girl and you’re going to start flirting with me now?”

“I am a connoisseur of female beauty, Pidge. I can say with great sincerity that you are as beautiful as a mermaid and as entrancing as a naiad.”

“Don’t you mean as entrancing as a siren? Anyway, since I am the Paladin of the Green Lion, shouldn’t I be a dryad instead of a naiad?”

“You know your mythology, don’t you?” He grinned at her.

“So do you, apparently.”

“I passed the time by reading a lot of myths, legends, and fairytales when I was a kid.”

“Then you know what happened to Actaeon.”

“Yeah,” he said dreamily. “He was spying on the beautiful virgin goddess Artemis in all her naked glory while she bathed in a stream.” He waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her with a devilish glint in his eye.

Pidge’s face was red, both with anger and embarrassment. She glared at him. “You know Artemis was so enraged at Actaeon for being such a perverted Peeping Tom that she turned him into a stag.”

“Well, I guess he couldn’t resist the beauty of a naked maiden, so the goddess punished him with antlers for being so horny.” He laughed at his own joke.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I don’t have my Bayard with me.” She swam away from him. Lance took that as a challenge and swam after her.

She stopped in the center of the small lake, and floated on her back. He caught up to her and floated beside her. For a long time they just drifted side by side beneath the starry night sky, at peace with the luminous glories of the universe reflected in the still, dark water of the lake. For a moment, there was no war, no empire, no genocide, no fear, no death. There was only the lake and the forest and the two young people, far from home, but not alone. Never alone. They had each other. They always had each other, Lance realized.

It was strangely quiet in the woods that night. On Earth there might have been the sound of nocturnal animals or insects in the darkness, but here there was a stillness in the air, a silence broken only by their voices.

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Lance said softly. “I honestly didn’t mean to spy on you. I didn’t even know you were out here when I decided to go for a swim.”

“I’m not offended, not really,” Pidge replied. “I’m just not used to it.”

“Not used to what?”

“Being looked at that way.” Clearly, she was still embarrassed. Pidge certainly could have passed for a young boy when Lance first met her, but not anymore. She could no longer hide the fact that she was growing up to be a very attractive female.

“Pidge, you know how much I love enjoy giving compliments to beautiful women.”

“You normally flirt with all the pretty girls you meet even if you barely even know them. This is different.”

“Because we’re best friends?” he asked.

“That’s one reason, but there’s more to it than that.”

He swam upright, gazing at her scantily clad form in the moonlight. She then turned herself upright, hiding most of her exposed body in the water. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Stop doing that!” She seemed more frightened than angry.

“Stop doing what?”

“Stop looking at me that way!”

“Why? What are you afraid of?” He gazed at her lovingly, with such a gentle expression that she looked down, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.

“I’m not Allura,” Pidge said, with her eyes downcast.

“I never said you were.”

“I thought you had a crush on her.” She looked up at him accusingly.

“Not anymore. Anyway, she doesn’t like me that way.”

“Oh, so now you’re going to flirt with me because every other girl in the Universe has turned you down?”

“Hey!” Lance looked offended. “That’s just mean, Pidge. Being rejected all the time really hurts, you know. I am not some Casanova who just loves women and leaves them. I just want a certain someone to be my girlfriend, with the intention that someday she’ll be my wife. I want to be in a real, committed relationship with this particular young lady, but I’ve been so afraid of rejection that I have never told her what she means to me, so I wasted a lot of time, flirting with girls that didn’t really matter to me, while trying to work up the courage to tell the girl I really care about what she means to me. I’m serious about this, and about her. The truth is, I’m really just a hopeless romantic,” he said with fervor. “Or maybe just hopeless,” he added sadly.

“I’m sorry. What I said was a bit harsh. I am just trying to protect myself.”

“From me?” Lance asked. He was looking at her apologetically.

“From getting my heart broken.” She looked so small and fragile when she said those words that Lance was silent for a moment, allowing himself to fully comprehend her meaning.

“It’s going to take every bit of whatever courage I have to say this, Pidge, but if you like me that way, then you have nothing to fear. You are one of the people that I care about the most in the entire Universe, and if you feel the same way, you will make me the happiest man alive.”

“You really mean that?” Her lower lip trembled and her eyes welled up with tears.

Lance’s voice cracked a little when he replied. “Yes. I love you, Pidge. I’ve loved you for all of these years that we have been in space together, and I have finally been able to admit to myself that I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. I think you are the most amazing girl that I have ever met.” Overwhelmed by his own feelings, he tried not to cry, but he did in spite of his best efforts to hold back tears.

Her own tears slid silently down her cheeks in the moonlight. He touched her face, gently wiping them away. “I love you too,” she said, her voice quivering. “You—you’re the only one that I’ve ever—“

Lance didn’t hear what she was going to say next. He stopped her trembling lips with a kiss as he clasped her to him, his arms wrapped around her waist. He felt her arms stiffen against his chest and then relax as she wrapped them around his neck. She pulled him towards her so he could deepen the kiss. Lance was overwhelmed with desire for her, and he kissed her with all of the passion he had kept hidden for so long. Pidge was trembling, perhaps from fear or from the cold lake water or both. Lance didn’t hold back. He continued kissing her with so much intensity that he began to frighten her as well as himself. Then he pulled away, breaking the kiss, leaving both of them gasping for breath. “I love you, Katie Holt,” he said softly, his words reverberating through the still night air.

Wide-eyed, she looked up at him and said, “I love you, too.” She hugged him, and he held her a long time as she trembled in his arms. “Lance, you are the only person that I have ever felt this way about. Please, please don’t break my heart.”

“Never. I am yours forever if that’s what you want. I promise, I will never, ever hurt you. I adore you.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re cold. Maybe we should get out of the water.” She nodded, shivering.

He followed her as she swam towards the shore to where she had left her towel, shoes, pajamas, and a change of underwear.

“Apparently you think of everything. I’m going to be walking back to camp in soggy boxer shorts.”

Pidge laughed at him. “I would like some privacy to change, please.” She had grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her torso as soon as they had reached the shore.

“Okay. My stuff is down there.” He pointed to the tree where his shirt and towel were hanging. “I’ll wait for you. We can walk back together.”

“Whatever you say, Loverboy. I guess you finally have a girlfriend now.” She grinned at him. Lance felt hot all over as he smiled back at her. He darted off to where he left his things, grabbed his towel and began drying off. Realizing that his boxers were a lost cause, he took them off and wrapped the towel securely around his waist, then put on his T-shirt and shoes. He heard footsteps approaching just as he hung his wet boxers on the tree limb.

“Uh, hi.” He felt his face heat up. She couldn’t contain her giggles. “I’m gonna pray this towel doesn’t fall off.” Pidge covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter. “Not so loud. You’ll wake up the entire camp.” He held the towel around his waist tightly with his right hand.

She was dressed in her too-large Paladin pajamas and sneakers, her discarded underclothes dripping wet in her left hand, and her own towel in her right. She hung her underthings up to dry next to his boxers. “You better hope no one finds this in the morning. The others will wonder what we were doing out here in the middle of the night,” she said teasingly. She kept her towel and rubbed her damp hair with it.

“They will jump to conclusions and Shiro will kill me, on behalf of Matt and your dad.”

“When we get back to Earth, you need to worry about my mom. She’s scarier than both of them put together.”

“She’ll learn to love me. I intend to be her future son-in-law, after all.”

“Don’t joke about stuff like that unless you really mean it.”

“I do. I want us to be long term, death to us part and all of that stuff.”

The smile that she gave him was angelic. She positively glowed with happiness at what he implied. “I think Katie Holt-McClain has a nice ring to it.”

“I can see you have put some thought into this.”

“I’ve loved you for a very long time, Lance McClain.” She hugged him tightly, and he embraced her, kissing the top of her head. He held her close for a long moment, smiling into her damp hair.

“Pidge, my dearest, close your eyes,” he said in his deepest, most seductive voice.

She looked up at him with adoration. “Are you going to kiss me again?”

“Not yet. I want you to close your eyes because my towel is falling off.”

“Wow, this is even better than turning you into a stag.”

“Pidge!” He exclaimed over the sound of her hysterical laughter. Lance held the towel in place as best he could, but when he turned his back on her to fasten it more securely, it slipped from around his waist, revealing far too much of his backside. It was too dark beneath the trees to see anything, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Well, tonight this planet has two moons. Too bad only one of them is full.”

“Pidge!” Lance was beyond embarrassed. He was wondering if this planet had any sinkholes that could suddenly open up to swallow him and take him out of his misery. When her laughter finally stopped, he bravely turned around to face her.

She had broken two small leafless branches off of the nearest tree. “Well, Artemis is the goddess of the moon.” She held up the branches above her head like antlers. “These are for you, Actaeon.”

“I think Actaeon has been punished enough for accidentally mooning the moon goddess.”

Pidge laughed harder than ever at this comment, and Lance, grinning in spite of his own humiliation, grabbed her and kissed her cheek as she giggled. He kissed her forehead as she continued to laugh, and as he kissed the other cheek she was crying tears of mirth. When she finally dropped the branches, it was so that she could wrap her arms around him, stand on tiptoe, and kiss him passionately.

When their lips finally parted, he grinned as he looked down at her and said, “You are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Nope. I will be telling this story to our children and grandchildren. Let’s go back to camp, Actaeon.”

They did their best to remain quiet when they arrived at the campsite. “I think I’ll sleep outside tonight too,” she whispered.

“Well, I am going to put some pants on, so my goddess won’t be offended,” he whispered back to her before slipping quietly into his tent, careful not to disturb Hunk’s slumber.

When Lance exited the tent to return to his camp mattress beneath the stars, he was wearing light blue pajama pants with his T-shirt. He saw that Pidge was combing her damp hair, sitting on the mattress she had placed next to his, and he smiled at her. Before they lay down side by side, he kissed her goodnight, then covered them both with his light blanket. They held each other close as they fell asleep at last, bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

#plance #plancesecretsanta2019 #plance secret santa #pidge #lance #katie holt #lance mcclain #sensitiveorange.tumblr.com

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looselucy · 5 years

Photo

Scars

April 5th “This is fucking weird.” Lin said, his shoulder brushing mine, the two of us stood behind the counter in my shop watching Louis and Libby, admiring the way they were together. “Innit?” I cried, still trying to wrap my head around the way they were together; how Louis had his arm wrapped around her waist, how she sunk into his side like she’d never been anywhere else, the two of them looking right back at us. “I love it, but… I dunno, I just can’t get used to it!”

“It’s only been a week!” Libby was giggling, ridiculously bashful, trying to excuse why we were finding their closeness so bizarre. “I dunno if I’ll ever get used to it.” Lin shrugged. “I’m literally just staring at you being all cute, and it’s blowing my little mind. You two are actually like, in love. What the fuck?” “I love it.” I announced. “But it is weird. It seems so right but then also it’s like… It’s weird.” Louis just held her tighter, squeezing her and kissing her cheek, the two of them actually thriving off all the teasing we’d done over the past week since they’d publicly broken the news. I was thriving too, to be honest. As truly odd as it was to see them suddenly acting so tenderly and lovingly with one another, I was loving every second of it. They were so bloody besotted and obsessed with each other, it was lovely to see. If not slightly strange. “You both happy?” Lin asked, already knowing full well they were. “Very.” Libby answered. Me and Lin turned our heads to face one another, shoulders shrugged, eyes squinted and silly smiles. It had been so wildly entertaining seeing them all react when Louis and Libby had sat them all down to tell them that they were in love with each other. Chloe had immediately burst out laughing, convinced they were joking, whereas Lin had looked at Niall completely deadpan and said: “I owe you a tenner.” As predicted, they had been met with nothing but enthusiasm and support from us, which they knew and that was why they’d both been so eager to share what had been happening between them in the first place. I hadn’t heard much about when Louis had actually told her he loved her, but clearly she’d responded well. They were adorable. “So, Friday night. What’re our plans?” Lin asked the three of us. “We wanted a night in.” Libby answered. “Of course you do.” He sniggered suggestively. “Alright Alfie, me and thee. Wanna do summat?” “I think Niall said he fancies going to the pub.” “Us? In the pub? Shocking. I never saw that one coming.” “Well there’s fuck all else to do. Also, you can’t beat being in the pub. And since the weathers getting so much better, all I wanna do with my life is sit in the beer garden at The Tin Mouse. It’s literally all I wanna do, it’s a problem.” It was a gorgeous pub all year round, but there was something extra special about it during the few months of the year where the sun managed to shine fully and actually give us some warmth. The beer garden around the back was my favourite place to be when the weather was like that, overlooking the rolling fields, a complete suntrap. I was so ready for those summer months. The bell rang, Niall letting himself into the shop. “Speak of the devil.” Louis grinned. “What’re you saying about me, you bunch of bitches?” “Afternoon, Niall.” I giggled. “Are we going to the pub? I’m ready, c’mon, this sun won’t last. Let’s get this shop closed and let’s get pissed.” “Where’s Chloe?” I enquired. “She’s doing something with her family, so it’ll be us lot-” “Actually,” Louis raised a hand. “We’re having a night in.” “Fucking each other’s brains out, I imagine. Well good for fucking you.” He huffed, making me and Lin laugh. “Alright, so it’s us three and maybe Harry.” “Harry?” My face dropped. My heart stopped. “Yeah, he’s back. I saw him yesterday.” My head started pounding within a split second of hearing that Harry was back in Rosebury, and once again I was having to try and veil my real emotions, trying not to let on how I was truly feeling. I was getting so tired of doing that. But Harry hadn’t told me he was back. He hadn’t even mentioned that he would be back, that I should be expecting him. I hadn’t heard from him for the past few days, so I’d predicted he still had things to do in New York, that his work wasn’t quite done. I couldn’t believe he’d come back and not even told me, when all he’d done for over a month was tell me how much he was missing me, how much he wanted to come back, how much he wanted to see me. That was literally all he’d said, so I couldn’t make sense of him actually being back but not even thinking to tell me, not having the decency. I thought about the first time he’d left back in November, and how he’d turned up at my door as soon as he was home, how I was his first thought, his first port of call, and that was back when things weren’t even serious between us. I was slowly starting to lose my nerve, moving from being upset to irritated. I was understanding of Harry’s character and the complexities of him, how he worked, and I’d known as soon as things had gotten serious between us that it wouldn’t be like any relationship I had known before. Harry was too different, in who he was and how he dealt with things. I knew all of that, but I also needed to accept that is was okay for me to have wants and needs when it came to the two of us being together and building a healthy relationship. I was allowed to affected by the way he was sometimes, because it was our relationship, not just his. I was allowed to want to know simple fucking things such as him being back in town. “Did you talk to him?” My voice was glum, eyes fixed on the counter. “No, I didn’t get the chance. I just saw him as he was about to walk down the road to his house.” I almost laughed I was that wound up, but I suppose being angry was so much easier than facing up to the way I was hurting, for Harry and myself. Because sitting right beside my frustration was this sinking realisation about how unaccustomed to being close with someone Harry was, and the way that had shaped him, even in manners I hadn’t quite comprehended before. He was so caring, so used to consuming the pain of others that he failed to see that his pain was my pain to a certain degree, his troubles troubled me. Since he was a young boy, his issues and how he felt had never been the focus, it had always been in the shadows of someone else’s sorrow. His problem with shining a spotlight on his own feelings didn’t merely come from that genuine struggle he had to talk about himself, but because he’d never had the chance to be the centre of someone’s compassion. It seemed to me that he was failing to see that how closely we were involved meant I wanted him to be as strong and happy as possible, in the same way he wanted that for those he cared about. But it was hard to concentrate on that desire of mine in those moments. “Let’s not invite him.” I huffed, standing upright and swinging my bag over my shoulder, ready to leave and knock back a pint. “Why?” “Y’know what he’s like.” I rolled my eyes. “When he wants us to know he’s back, he’ll tell us or he’ll show his face. Besides, we need to figure how the fuck we want to handle us knowing about his art, because we all know how private he is.” “Fair point, actually.” Niall agreed. “Shit, I didn’t think about that.” “Neither did I.” Lin winced. “I don’t wanna break his trust or anything.” “It might be too late for that.” I admitted. “Let’s go figure it out over a beer.” I didn’t want to lie to Harry about the fact we knew, because I felt that was the only way things could get worse, it was the only way I could feel worse about it all. I was going to tell him, be upfront and truthful, and I’d have to accept the repercussions, whatever they were. There was a high possibility his trust would be broken, and that terrified me. He’d come so far and I really didn’t want to send him spiralling back to square one. I didn’t even know if he’d believe what had happened, or if he’d blame me and predict I’d lost my patience with him. I didn’t know how I was feeling, I didn’t know what was going to happen, the only thing I was totally confident about was how I needed to be honest with him. Whatever the outcome, I’d have to deal with it.

A miscellany of emotions waded through me as I advanced towards Harry’s home, nauseous over the thought of seeing him, talking to him, finding out how recent changes and revelations would alter us now he was home. My approach was as sluggish as the setting sun, seeing a light in his living room flicker on as I neared, proving he really was home. I suppose there had been a part of me that had been hoping Niall had made a mistake, spotting someone who looked like Harry and predicting it was him. But he really was home. I measured my pace, convincing myself that walking slowly would give me the time to prepare, so at least then I could knock on his door with some sort of idea as to what I wanted to say, but I knew even if I managed to rehearse even a sentence it would fall flat as soon as I saw him. My emotions were going to carry me through the following conversation, but the scariest part was that I still didn’t know which emotion would be the loudest. Both my head and heart were completely chaotic, intolerable and impossible to predict. I felt physically sick by the time I reached his door, knocking before my gut disappeared and I ran away from a situation that definitely needed facing. I bit my lip, closing my eyes as soon as I heard footsteps, head down but eyes up as he swung the door open. He looked stunned. “Fee.” His voice was quiet, breathy. It seemed to me that not only was he not expecting me to turn up at his door, but nor had he wanted me to. I would have loved him to just drag me inside, kiss me, making me forget all the reasons I was frustrated and sad. But he didn’t. He just stood there. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” I grumbled. His breath seemed to catch in his throat, looking like he didn’t have a clue how to respond to that, like I’d just asked him something complicated, expecting an intricate answer. “I… I-I dunno.” “It’s fucked with my head, Harry. All I’ve heard from you for over a month is how much you’ve missed me. That’s the only fucking contact you gave me. That’s all I got. And now you’re back and you don’t even think to tell me? If you needed time alone, just say that!” “Alfie, just come inside-” He tried to pull me inwards, grasping his fingers at my top for a few seconds. “But you can’t just say nothing! It’s not fair on me. It’s not fair that I always feel like I’m trying to figure you out. Trying to figure us out. I wanna know where I stand! I deserve to know where I stand.” “Please come inside, Fee-Fee.” He begged, letting go of me so his fingers could anxiously grasp at his long sleeves. “Please.” I stepped inside, because he hadn’t needed to beg that way. I’d gone there with the intention of talking things through as much as possible, I had never wanted to just say whatever came to mind and then leave. I wanted to talk it out. I wanted to prove to him that I cared about his feelings, prove how important they were, how important I felt we were. He exhaled, quickly closing the door as though he thought I may run back out at any moment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t think. I wanted some time.” “Time to what?” “I’ve hated being away, and I have missed you, I just… I wanted a bit of time to gather myself before seeing you. I should’ve said, I should’ve told you, m’sorry. I dunno why I didn’t.” I took my coat off, hanging it beside the door, his eyes still locked on me. I didn’t know how to respond to him. I didn’t want to explain it away, blame it on the fact Harry wasn’t really accustom to being with someone because I genuinely thought it would be not only common sense, but that it might even be in his instinct. I turned to face him again, body shaking as he took a step closer. “I’m sorry. This is where you stand. Here, with me.” He gripped at my top again, gently pulling me closer. “I wanna do better than this, and I don’t wanna upset you. My heads been such a mess, but it’s nothing to do with you. I promise.” I found myself with my back against the wall, Harry leaning to press his forehead against mine, his eyes dancing over my face. My body eased. My guard fell. “I missed you.” I whispered. “I missed you so fucking much.” He ached. “I’m sorry.” “Next time, please talk to me more. It made it so much harder, how quiet you were, I hated it. I fucking hated it, I missed you, I…” I tried to reach down, take his hands within mine, but he rapidly pulled away, shooting his hands back so that I couldn’t touch them. He cursed as I looked down, saw the bandages he had wrapped around both hands. My nostrils were flaring sporadically, throat hurting, lip trembling. Even though he knew I’d seen, he still put his hands behind his back, eyes going down to the floor. “Harry-” “C’mon. Let’s go make a brew.” He tried to brush it off, rolling his shoulders before walking away from me, through the doorway into his living room before I spoke. “Harry, I know.” His footsteps ceased, silence an unfriendly visitor in his home as he thought over my words. I stayed still, closing my eyes when I heard him walking again, noticed the sound was heading towards me rather than distancing. He came and stood himself right ahead of me once more. “You know what?” “That you paint.” I confessed, but I didn’t feel much better for it, lifting my head so I could see how he reacted. “I know about your art.” He went quiet again, and I could almost hear the heavy beating of his heart, his brows low, stunned once again. I was dreading his reaction, so fearful that he’d be irate and lose his temper before anything else, that we’d make a mess of a situation that already felt like it was in tatters. “How long have you known?” He asked me, sounding calmer than I’d expected. “A few weeks. I found out whilst you were away, and not by choice.” “What?” “I didn’t go snooping. They… They googled you at the pub, they already knew by the time I got there. I wouldn’t do that.” “I didn’t say you would.” I was caught off guard by his soft tone, how he edged himself closer to me when I’d been so ready for him to detach completely. I don’t know why I had predicted the worst, maybe it was merely a reflection of how low I’d been feeling since he’d left. Maybe it was natural for me to think things would fall apart in front of me when I felt like I’d been able to sense it crumbling ever since I’d awoken to him taking that call. He stepped closer still. “I trust you, Fee.” He was quiet, but there was a soothing confidence captive in his tone. “You should know that already.” “But… I dunno! I just didn’t wanna find out like that.” I let a few tears loose, staring right at him, relieved. “I thought I would lose your trust and I hated it because we’ve done so well building it and-” “Hey, it’s alright!” He sighed then hushed me, pulling me into his body and allowing me to weep against his chest. “Don’t cry, I can’t stand it, please don’t. It’s okay!” “It’s just been horrible because I didn’t want to find something like that out how I did and I didn’t want you to hate me but I dunno why you didn’t tell me if it’s something you love and-” “Alfie, breathe!” He kind of laughed, pulling himself back and gripping his hand at the back of my head, crouching a little so he could look at my face. “Listen to me and believe me. It’s okay!” There was absolutely nothing he was doing or saying that could even suggest I had any reason to doubt him. I was baffled, completely thrown by it, but he really seemed okay with all of it. I had gotten so wrapped up in the thought of things having to be on his terms and everything having to lean in the perfect direction, that I’d somehow managed to forget that I was not the only person present who was trying to make this relationship work. Neither of us were seeking an argument, we didn’t want to be bitter, we wanted to be happy and understand each other. He was making that clearer then than he ever had before. “I wanna show you something.” He whispered a little nervously. “Take… Take my hand.” He let go of the back of my head and held his hand out for me, letting me get a real look at the bandages that he’d wrapped tightly around his palm. He didn’t seem entirely comfortable with it, but he did it regardless. I placed my hand in his, wishing I could feel his skin and truly relish his touch, but the slight feel of his fingertips would have to suffice. He led us through his living room towards the kitchen, and I knew. I knew where we were heading and I was confident in what would be there, even though for months I’d been completely clueless. I knew. We headed straight towards the red curtains, and I might’ve stopped breathing for a few seconds when his free hand reached towards the heavy fabric, pulling it back. I definitely stopped breathing then. It was an extension built at the back of his home, made entirely of glass windows that sat between and looked out into the open woodland that surrounded his house in the most striking, magnificent way. The trees directly in front of us were common but sparse, leaving room for a small mossy pond filled with life, the setting sun pummelling through the branches of the tall trees around us. It was breathtakingly beautiful. And in the room, right ahead of us, was an easel with a blank canvas placed upon it. But it wasn’t the only work he had in there; there were paintings all over the place, leaning up against the windows, all nestled together and propped against one another, some unfinished some seemingly complete. There were palettes on the floor, tubes of paint laying unorganised all over the place, the room wholly unruly but somewhat pleasing in its cluttered complexion. After standing in astonished silence for some time, I turned to him, noticed the contemplative look upon his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “For a long time… this-” He gestured at his work. “-is all I’ve been. It’s all people care about. People treat me like I’m this… paradox rather than a person, like they need to pick me apart rather than just… get to know me.” I couldn’t quite begin to fathom just how many facets of his existence had caused Harry to be the type of person he was, how it had all contributed to his struggle to open himself up. It seemed everything had been against him until he moved to Rosebury. He let go of my hand and stepped properly into the room, so I followed, watching him as he glanced around at his pieces. “The people that’ve been in my life for the past few years, the way they talk and the discussions… it’s all been so fucking false. I’m… I’m grateful to have done so well, but there’s this huge negative to it with how isolated and fake it is, and I’ve always hated it. Not only that, but... My art… It-it doesn’t always make me feel good. I don’t want it to always be the focus because a lot of the time…” He stopped talking when his throat snagged, dipping his head and attempting to discipline his overpowering emotions so that they didn’t flood him. He was running his hand through his hair as I moved myself closer to him, my body almost touching his, my hand floating upwards so I could stroke over his cheek. “All the people I’ve been forced to meet for years have all been because of… It’s all revolved around this job, my art. It’s never been friends, it’s always been fucking work. Moving here felt different. It was separate to all of that and I finally felt like I’d found something genuine.” “I’m sorry if you feel like we’ve taken that from you.” I juddered uneasily. “I don’t. I guess I expected someone to know anyway, but then none of you did and I just wanted to make the most of that for a while. I wanted to make different connections, and I did.” He managed a smile, feeble but gorgeous. “I’d have loved it if you’d found out from me, and I’m sorry for not telling you but… I find it hard to talk about.” I nodded, trembling as I reached to take my hand in his once again, gently stroke my thumb over the top of the bandages where I knew his cuts would be. It was so clear that the art he produced did not come from a positive place, which made it different to just being any old job, of course it was harder to discuss. It all made perfect sense to me suddenly, why this hadn’t been something he felt happy to share; art may have been a passion of his, but sometimes passions are poison. “When I moved here… I stopped painting.” He told me. “I didn’t wanna create anything new because… it doesn’t make me happy. I wanted this fresh start, I wanted to kinda… put it behind me. There’s this part of me that misses it but then I can’t… I can’t keep doing this to myself because it makes me so fucking miserable.” I wanted to grip his hand tighter, but I daren’t. Instead I just raised it, placing it between our bodies to capture both of our gazes, the two of us with tears in our eyes. “You painted again, didn’t you?” My voice was frail. “You cut again.” “It’s what I do, Alfie. It’s my job, it’s my work. I wanna stop, but it’s not that easy! It’s not as simple as that. And my agent-” “I don’t give a fuck about your agent.” Any frailness was swiftly abolished, letting my free hand clasp at the side of his neck. “I don’t give a fuck about anything other than you!” “I know.” He let out a sob. “All I care about is your happiness and you need to make that your priority. Fuck everything else, put yourself first!” I wept, trying to be firm with him. “You can’t keep cutting yourself like that.” “I don’t want to.” He bawled. “Then don’t! Please, fuck,” My whole body ached for him. “Please stop, you have to stop.” I pushed up on my tiptoes for a second to finally thrust my lips back against his, coaxing him closer to me. His hands drew to my waist, lowering his head so we could kiss properly, cheeks damp but so obsessed with the feeling we gained that for a while, nothing mattered but that kiss, the longing we shared. His touch was taut against my waist, yanking my body even closer to his as I slung my arms to droop around his neck. Somehow my heart felt as though it was healing and shattering at the same time. Lost, we stumbled, only stopping when my heels hit a canvas, clutching onto him in every way my hands physically could, short of breath and forcing ourselves to still. We remained close as I stroked through his hair, trying to stop crying but my emotions were totally overbearing. I was thankful to learn he hadn’t painted since moving to Rosebury, before New York, and I suppose I should have known that because I’d never seen him with fresh cuts or bandages on his hands before, but I’d been thinking and expecting the worst. “Why do you do that?” I was quiet. “Why do you cut yourself like that?” “It’s just… how my work is. It’s… how I feel when I paint. I think that’s why I wanna stop, that’s why I don’t… I don’t do it anymore, really.” “Why did you do it again?” “My agent who helps me sell my art thinks… if I do new stuff, maybe it’ll distract people from a painting I don’t wanna sell.” “Which painting is it?” “Blood Sun.” He answered, my stomach dropping even hearing the word blood. “Why… Why don’t you wanna sell it?” He dropped his head again, like he was picturing the image in his mind, eyes hazy and lips pert with the promise of words unspoken. I’d never been as hypnotised by him. “It took me years to finish it. I started painting it ten years after… After my dad died.” He was physically shaking. “And it took me three years to finish it. And I guess… I guess by the time it was done, it was like I couldn’t even stand looking at it.” I wondered just how much blood had gone into the piece. Three years of cutting himself. Three years of blood placed upon a canvas in some attempt to define the agony and the hurt he’d been feeling for what was now over ten years. “I put it in my gallery, but every time someone makes an offer… It’s like… I can’t stomach the thought of someone else having it. I fucking hate it because it makes me so unhappy but then I feel like I can see him in it and it’s the only piece of my family I have left and…” I despised how much loss Harry had experienced in his life. The death of his father had continued to tear so many good things away from him, from his loved ones to this basic happiness that he deserved more than anyone I knew. The only sense of his father he had left was all trapped in one painting, so painful he wanted to reject it and so meaningful he couldn’t stand the thought of someone taking it from him. “It’s fucking stupid-” “It’s not.” I shook my head. “It’s not stupid at all, Harry. Don’t convince yourself that it is. How you feel… it’s justified. And fuck anyone who makes you feel otherwise.” He lowered his head to kiss me again, composed and yet fierce, passionately clinging onto me for a few moments before he detached, almost woozy over how open he’d been. Soon after the kiss had stopped, he moved, sighing and sitting himself down on the ground, resting his back against some of the canvases that were propped against a window. I sat myself down next to him, drained and heartbroken and yet somehow happier than I had been when I’d first arrived. For a while, we sat in silence, gazing around at his work. I was glad that he wasn’t painting, or at least glad he wasn’t cutting. Even in his very first few weeks in our village, I had known how good the move had been for him, how he’d made the right choice and how he had set his life on a better track. I hadn’t been quite so aware just how many wonders it had worked. “Don’t sell it.” I mumbled, looking down to the floor. “Take it off the market completely.” “You think?” “Mm. You’re obviously not ready to part with it, and… maybe one day you will be, and then when that happens… you can sell it on your terms, in a way that won’t make you unhappy. And if that day never comes then… maybe it shows you love it more than you realise.” He nodded, and though I’d never be able to fully understand the intricacy of his feelings when it came to that certain painting, he seemed to agree that at that time, it was best to keep it for himself. There were still wounds that needed to heal before he could say goodbye to it. As injurious as it may have seemed to Harry, that piece was still priceless to him. “What was he called? Your dad, I mean.” I queried. “I never asked his name.” “William. But everyone called him Billy.” A smile formed subconsciously. “That’s why it’s my middle name.” “Billy?” “Yeah.” “I can’t believe I didn’t already know that.” “I’d lived here months before you even asked what my last name was.” He tittered, the two of us giggling for only a few seconds before he reached and took my hand, our fingers lacing together. “M’sorry, for disappearing like I did.” “Why didn’t you talk to me?” “I didn’t wanna lie to you. I thought it’d just be a week or two but then… I opened the gallery where my work is, sold some pieces, painted again. I wanted to say as little as possible because... I wasn’t ready to tell you about all of this. And I don’t wanna lie.” Only Harry could give me an explanation to something that had been so frustrating for me and then end up making me blush. “But why didn’t you say you were home? I... I thought you’d wanna see me.” “Fee-Fee, I’ve been fucking dying to see you, but I… I wanted to wait until my cuts had healed more.” He swallowed. “I didn’t want you to see.” I looked down to our hands, noticing a few scant specks of blood that had seeped through his bandaging, tears budging back into my eyes. He could have hidden himself away for weeks waiting for those fresh cuts to heal, and that would have been for both of our benefit, really. He knew I would have worried, asked questions, fretted over every single scar, old and new. He hadn’t wanted either of us to experience that. “I want you to know… that you don’t need to hide anything from me, Harry.” I turned my head to him. “No more secrets.” “No more secrets.” He squeezed my hand. “Just me and you.” “Just me and you.” I cooed, voice low. With a smile, he charmed me closer to him, sweetly pulling my hand his way to heave my entire body over to his. I twisted, lifted my leg and straddled his waist, hitching closer to him, my insides oozing with the way he looked up to me, broken light fluctuating through his tired eyes, downright dazzling. Lightly, I placed my lips against his, my hands running through his thick hair as his landed back on my waist. We were slow, his mouth widening with mine, tongue tenderly moving with my own. For some time, the connection I’d had with him had been a delicate one, where our touches were caring and smooth, but I had never known us to be quite so affectionate with each other. I had never known my body to react to his in such a stunningly colossal way. Something was happening that I couldn’t quite describe, the two of turning yet another corner in our relationship. I had headed to his home expecting things to fall apart and ended up feeling as though really, we’d never been stronger. Being with him then, feeling his hand reach to cover my jaw, his breathless bleats of pleasure moving from his mouth to mine, it summoned a restless sensation of nameless pleasures I had never known the likes of. We were so far from perfect, but there was a beauty in what we were, however flawed. And I didn’t want anything other than him, and the exquisite connection that existed between us.

#let's go girls #Happy Bloody Sunday #looking forward to this one #eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep #HBS31

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sweetlangdon · 5 years

Text

Lights (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Notes: Just some Christmas inspired fluff with a dash of angst. AU from “Sojourn.” Also features Michael with reader’s adorable black cat.

Word Count: 3k

When you bring up the idea of celebrating Christmas, Michael wrinkles his nose at you. It’s an endearing expression, you think, as he peers up at you from the floor, a few golden curls hanging in front of his eyes, his fingers dragging absently through your cat’s inky black fur. It’d be downright adorable if he wasn’t indignant and half-disgusted by the mere thought. You wonder if it’s a little ridiculous to even suggest it.

You’re well aware of who and what Michael is.

Two days after you’d found him wandering around Los Angeles starving and exhausted—broken, you thought at first, beyond repair—the truth had come tumbling out. The truth should’ve changed your thoughts about him, should’ve made you toss him back out into the streets for fear of your life. But here you are, months later, the two of you coexisting in your tiny apartment because you couldn’t see past that sad, lost look in those bright blue eyes.

It’s still there, sometimes, and you wish you could do more to make it go away. You don’t know how to help him; you wonder if a stable roof over Michael’s head and food and companionship is enough to keep that dark spot on his soul from taking over. You can only hope that it is.

“What?” you ask, a hand on your hip.

Your cat flops over on his back in Michael’s lap, paws kneading the air, eyes closing as Michael scratches under his chin. The cat loves Michael—more than you, most of the time, and you’re not exactly sure who you’re most jealous of at this point. It’s hard to admit that you might even be jealous at all.

The cat has kept a new schedule since Michael moved in. You’ve found him trailing Michael from room to room, or curled up in the same chair while the two of you watch TV. Most nights he sleeps on Michael’s pillow or tucked against his chest and you wish you had a more comfortable bed to offer him than the fold-out couch. It’s good that he has some sort of companion to keep him occupied while you’re at work. If it wasn’t for the cat, who Michael adores, you’d still be afraid of coming home to an empty apartment.

“I can’t celebrate Christmas,” he says. His voice is soft, almost quiet.

You want to ask why, but before the question even leaves your mouth, Michael stares at you, hard. His face is caught between a glare and pure sarcasm, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

You roll your eyes. “Michael…”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head, and your gaze lingers on the way his cherubic curls bounce. There’s a longing in his eyes that he won’t admit to. “I just…I can’t.”

Your eyebrows pull together as you frown. “Who says? I mean, you can make your own decisions now. You walked away from all of that, right?” For the past few months, the two of you had been slowly working on unlearning all of the toxic bullshit Michael had had fed to him from the people in his life. It was an ongoing process you weren’t sure you were qualified to handle.

“What do you want?” That was always your most important question to him, something you always had to remind him of. “And we won’t even think about the whole religious thing, either. I’ve never been into that part of it. But I like the decorations and the festivities and the gift giving. I…thought that it might be fun for us. You’d get to watch the cat try to destroy the tree.” You laugh, and Michael’s smirk broadens just a little as he glances down at the fur ball in his lap. “Will you? …Maybe?”

He considers it. You think maybe you’ve lost this fight, and it spirals into a line of thinking that you don’t want to acknowledge, as paranoid as it sounds. A future where he continues to drift away from you and into a life that you know he doesn’t want, even though he won’t admit it. A future that ends in fire and chaos and the apocalypse. You’re trying so hard to help him embrace his humanity, little by little, wherever you can.

Michael rakes his slender fingers through your cat’s fur. The cat’s fully asleep now, head settled on Michael’s knee, blending in with Michael’s black pants except for the tooth that sticks out of his mouth. He sighs, and you’re not sure if it’s one of some kind of relief. He’s exhausted in ways you can’t even understand, but you think that possibly, the burden on his shoulders has started to wither away a bit.

“All right,” he concedes.

You buy him an ugly Christmas sweater. It’s an impulse that you don’t bother to control, partially fueled by your insomnia. There’s a few minutes where you manage to track down one with an inverted pentagram, and another that actually says Hail Satan, but you decide against it. That would ruin weeks’ worth of progress. It’s the last thing you want, no matter how much your sleep-deprived, 3:00 AM brain thinks a Satanic Christmas sweater is kind of funny.

Michael physically recoils away from it when you present it to him, with horrified, wide eyes and one vehement shake of his head. You feel a little awful for laughing at the look of terror on his face and hold it up between the two of you to admire its loud green and red pattern adorned with glitter and lights that actually work.

“No.”

You turn on the lights with a press of your thumb. “It lights up.”

“I can see that,” Michael answers, so deadpan that you almost can’t contain yourself. “I’m still not wearing it.”

“It’s an embarrassing tradition.”

You toss the ugly sweater straight into his chest. He doesn’t move out of the way like you expect, catching it before it topples onto the floor. And for just a moment you’re hopeful, until he throws the sweater onto the couch and crosses his arms over his chest like a petulant, stubborn child. With his chin tilted up and everything.

“No fucking way,” Michael tells you, and that’s the end of that.

He helps you dig out the plastic Christmas tree from the back of the hall closet. The two of you wade through boxes and things you’ve somehow hoarded and can’t seem to get rid of to unearth a dented box held together at the seams with duct tape. Michael carries it into the living room, and while he’s struggling to break through an obscene amount of duct tape and keep the cat from getting in the way, you creep up behind him. You’re armed with a Santa hat identical to the one you’re wearing with your adorably ugly Christmas sweater. And you push it down onto his head, over those gorgeous, soft curls, with just a hint of satisfaction.

It takes him a moment to realize what’s happened, kneeling there on the floor amid a mess of tangled duct tape that the cat’s now chewing on. You watch his eyes move upward, eyebrows inching toward his hairline. The what the fuck expression that overtakes his face has you in a fit of giggles.

“It looks good on you,” you tell him.

He’s not impressed. He’s actually scowling at you. “This is ridiculous.”

“No one’s gonna see you wearing it…” You kneel on the other side of the box and contemplate the fake branches poking out of the ripped seams.

Michael plucks the hat off his head, though there’s a trace of that smirk on his lips that makes you believe he’s doing this just to fuck with you. “No.”

You wonder if he knows any other words.

The two of you manage to assemble the tree in record time, Michael always a step ahead, eyes narrowed in concentration even as the cat winds around his ankles. You’ve only had to tug the cat out of the branches twice so far, which seems to be another new record. You work in companionable silence, which is enough; you’re just glad that your holiday antics haven’t chased him off yet.

You grimace as you settle the box of decorations onto the floor. The cat puts his two front paws on one edge of the box, nosing at the mess of lights inside. At least the glass ornaments are intact, packed safely in their individual boxes. You wonder why you still buy glass ornaments with the cat around. Michael grabs him before he can get his sharp little teeth around a strand of lights, and the cat braces himself comfortably against Michael’s shoulder. Something inside you melts at the sight of their mutual, unspoken affection.

Michael regards the box with the same skepticism you feel. “Do any of those even work?”

You wince a little. “I guess we’ll find out.”

It takes you and Michael ages to untangle the lights. Both of you sit on the floor in front of the tree, knotted strands of multicolored lights in piles around your legs. Every two minutes, the cat tries to chew on them, and Michael has to brush him away with a wave of his hand and a pointed look. It’s a task that neither of you have the patience for.

The strand that Michael plugs into the power strip fails to light up. He groans, and his foot knocks into your knee as he flings the dead string of lights back into the box.

“How can you think this is fun?” he grouses. Michael sighs, and a stray curl that’s hanging over his forehead flutters. He looks even more adorable when he’s annoyed, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“This part sucks,” you agree. “It gets better, trust me.”

He gives you one of those sarcastic glares that you secretly love before he picks up an untested tangle of lights. When he plugs it in and every light glows, spilling red and green and blue and golden yellow and pink onto his pale skin, the triumphant grin that crosses his lips doesn’t go unnoticed. You think that maybe, slowly, he might warm up to some of your holiday traditions. After you’ve both successfully weeded out the broken strands from the ones that work, you start plugging them in. Michael watches you—and the cat, from the corner of his eye, as his mischievous paws try to swipe at the strands—twine the lights around the branches from the bottom up.

“You missed a spot.” When you turn around, Michael’s standing there with his head cocked to the side.

“Where?”

“Right there.”

You shoot him a glare for being unspecific and unhelpful, and he moves closer, that smirk making the corner of his lips curve and his eyes sparkle.

He points at a spot on the tree. “In the middle…no, not there…move to your right.” You’re fucking with him a little bit to lighten the mood. And now he’s grinning, so it’s mission accomplished. You like it when you’re able to soften his sharper edges.

“You do it, then.”

Michael’s shoulders drop, and he dips his head for a second in resignation before holding out his hand to accept the string of lights. Your fingertips brush his in the trade, a fleeting, gentle touch that makes the warmth of his skin linger on your own. He sets to work, and you take up the job of making sure the strands don’t get tangled or eaten by the cat. Michael drops into a crouch to fix the offending spot on the tree that you missed, then pulls himself up to his full height again to string the lights on the top half that you were never able to reach without a step ladder.

You start the delicate process of unboxing the ornaments and placing them on hooks. There will be a few causalities this year; you know this all too well from your cat’s prior Christmases, where he’s used the ornaments as toys. Next year, you decide you’ll buy plastic ornaments. Michael takes the ornaments from you with a cautious hand and begins to fill in the branches at the top. The lights reflect off their glittery, shiny gold and silver shapes, making the tree brighter. You work together to point out the empty branches or repeated colors. You feel Michael’s mood shift considerably; he’s softer, relaxed, a light in his eyes that had been very dim before. You think that maybe he’s even happy.

An ornament slips from your usually careful fingers and you gasp as you envision the crash that will follow, jagged pieces scattered all over the floor around your bare feet. But the ornament never reaches the floor. You watch the glittering, silver bulb float in the air until it’s eye level with you, your gaze flickering over to Michael. His hand is outstretched, palm facing upward, his fingers graceful and fluid. Aside from the one glimpse you’ve had of the mark behind his ear, it’s the only time you’re reminded that he’s not entirely human. It’s the first time you’ve seen the power you know he has in him used for good. He’s made the lights flicker and a few things break in your apartment before; all outbursts that he couldn’t seem to contain as something dark overpowered him.

This, though…this is soft.

You take the bulb from the air. “Thank you.” Michael nods.

Maybe there will be less ornament casualties this year.

You give Michael the honor of placing the star on top of the tree, and you’re surprised when he doesn’t protest. He stands on the tips of toes, even though you’ve offered the step ladder, which he stubbornly refused with an, “I’ve got it.”

While he’s grunting and perilously close to knocking a couple of ornaments loose from their branches, you think that there could have been a better solution to this. You figured he would’ve used his powers to make the job a bit easier, but his stubbornness knows no bounds. And you barely notice that he’s finally gotten the damn star on the branch because you were blatantly staring at the muscles of his lower abdomen that are now peeking out of the bottom of his shirt. You hope he doesn’t realize the blush on your cheeks.

“It’s crooked,” you say.

Michael stares at you as if you’ve committed some horrific offense. “It’s not crooked.”

From across the room, curled up on Michael’s discarded ugly Christmas sweater, the cat opens one eye to witness your bickering with mild interest.

“Yeah, it is,” you protest. “It’s clearly leaning to the side.”

“Fine.”

He grumbles some more, and you stare just a little longer, and finally, the star is straight. Michael’s hair is disheveled—you like it when he’s not so clean-cut—and his clothes are more rumpled now than when you first started decorating. He stands back from the tree, ice blue eyes sweeping over your combined efforts. He’s pleased, you think, and your breath catches just a little when you see his expression soften with an almost childlike sense of wonder.

As he’s preoccupied, you sneak away from his side to turn off the lights in the apartment. With the daylight already faded outside, the room is dark enough to appreciate the glow of the lights, the sparkle of the ornaments, and Michael’s silhouette in front of the tree. On your way back, you plug in a forgotten strand of lights that somehow actually function like they’re supposed to. You carry them with you, and while Michael is gaping at the tree with his mouth open a little, you twine the lights around his legs.

“The fuck are you doing?” His tone doesn’t have any of the bite you’d anticipated, instead laced with surprise and quite possibly a hint of amusement. One of his eyebrows lifts, and it’s there that you find the barest trace of cynicism.

“Decorating.”

You circle around him—really, really shocked that he hasn’t done anything to stop you, because you were expecting the lights to explode in a thousand different directions—until the lights are wrapped around him up to his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. Once you’re in front of him again, you tug him forward a little and plant a delicate kiss on the end of his nose.

Michael wrinkles his nose and offers a roll of his eyes in response, which you’d definitely been expecting.

He sighs. “Thank you.” His voice has gone quiet and soft again, and your heart breaks, because there’s no way he’s talking about the lights.

“For what?”

“For…trying.”

That smirk reappears for a second, and you almost wish he’d let you take a picture. The sharp lines of his cheekbones look even sharper in the dark, illuminated in glowing, bright colors.

“Thank you for putting up with me.”

You let go of the lights, and unravel them as Michael pushes them off. They fall into a pile around your feet, green and gold and red and blue skittering across the hardwood floor. As you’re about to step away from him, you feel Michael’s fingers at your wrist, and once you meet his eyes, he leans forward to press his lips to your forehead. It’s a quick, simple gesture, and it catches you entirely off-guard. You don’t say anything—you don’t want to ruin the moment—as the two of you stand at each other’s side in the dark and stare up at the tree. Your fingers lace between his and you’re pleased when he doesn’t let go. The cat wanders over, a pitch black shadow, and winds around your ankles.

You think maybe, for the first time, he’s jealous. And you’re okay with that.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon x oc #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse imagine #ahs fic #ahs fanfiction #ahs apocalypse #fic: christmas fluff #fic: roommate series

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deniigi · 5 years

Note

concept developed after reading baby!matt in the sprawl: adventures in spider-babysitting. can you imagine the super/vigilante community/spiderverse gang + co. dealing with spiderman but small. bite-sized. little baby hands as spider-sticky as always. theres a baby on the ceiling. good god

Hi Anon.

Not quite what you asked for, but here’s some baby Pete from Tony’s POV I wrote yesterday to play with this concept. I don’t write Tony very much for many reasons, but I thought that this time, it might be pretty cute.

It cuts off kind of abruptly, but yeah. I didn’t really have the interest to finish it as a complete story. ANYWAYS

Long post under the cut (sorry mobile users!!)

“Tony,” Pepper said calmly, “I know that you want to help.But she is basically his mom.”

Yes, yes, yes.

But.

Consider this.

Small.

Pepper paused in typing and raised an eyebrow.

Tony got up in case she couldn’t see and showed her with hishands.

“Small,” he emphasized.

“Yes, he is very small,” she agreed.

“Very,” Tony told her firmly.

“And he is? Not our child?”

Yes, but again. Please consider: Small.

“So what I think I’m getting here is that you’re feelingpaternal today,” Pepper said during another pause in her typing.

Yes. Very.

“Why don’t we make a new baby robot then?” she offered himlike he was, himself, a child very studiously kicking the back of her seat in amovie theatre.

Because small.

“Tony. Peter is terrified of you right now.”

Yes, yes. But small,honey. So, so small.

“The second you touch him, he will start crying all overagain.”

Life is cruel.

“Have a seat, Tony. We will find you something small to holdin just a minute.”

Pete was always the size of a beansprout, height andwidth-wise, but at the present, he was but a bean. Sometimes, in their line ofwork, these things happen, and mostly they are unavoidable and Bruce and Dr.Cho had pronounced this particular affliction short-term and non-lethal andnone of that did anything to help the klaxons screaming in Tony’s head to gofind. And hold. The baby.

“You know, Tones, I think this might have affected you morethan him,” Bruce said, poking at him in the lab. Probably testing the frequencyat which he was fucking vibrating.

Must hold. The small.

“You stay here, Imma go get Rhodey.”

Yes, whatever, kindly fuck off unless there was a child inneed of holding in your possession.

Rhodey took one look at him and rolled his eyes and fuckedoff because he understood the highly complex workings of Tony’s mind. He cameback with a rabbit from one of the labs and stuffed it into his arms.

It was.

Unsatisfactory.

But closer.

“Tony. Peter is so scared of you right now, man,” Rhodeytold him.

Right. Yes. Logically, he knew this. But his brain would not compute. He could not make itstop fixating.

“He’s more scared of you then Barnes.”

Fucking horrible is what that was. Unfair on scales unknownto man. Peter and his smallness had,once separated from Tony, his apparent nightmare, wrapped tiny fingers aroundBarnes’s metal ones in silent fascination. Barnes was a baby-thief, however,and could not be trusted with children. They all ended up in Rogers’spossession and he was, every time, very confused. As were the police. Sam hadintervened to stop this this last time before it went to far and gave tiny,precious, baby-Pete a little toss which had banished the last of theTony-inspired upset and had resulted in giggling.

Tony had believed that what he had felt right then wasextreme jealously. He now knew this to be fact. He also knew that baby-Pete hadzero self-preservation instincts because preferred even Natasha’s company toTony’s.

It was problematic.

Everyone else got to hold baby-Pete, but not Tony. Tootraumatic.

Why.

May told him that it probably had to do with his facial hairwhich was horrifying. Like. Why. She said that this had always been a thing,but neglected to notice that half of Thor’s face was covered in fur and Sam hada moustache and goatee and there was no crying happening for those two.

“Yes, well. I guess they don’t seem very threatening,” shesaid, letting baby-Pete bury himself in her hair to hide from him.

He was so cute.

The universe was so hurtful.

Rhodey sighed and pet the rabbit while he clutched at it.

The moment of truth came when May brought Peter by for aquick check-up on Day two. Peter was very busy counting the beads on hernecklace. He was a great counter. For a toddler. That is. He was a very poorcounter by any other standard. He kept skipping the prime numbers with stunningaccuracy. No matter how many times May gently said, “One, two, three.” Healmost always started with “Fo’. Sis. Ni’.”

So cute.

So fucking cute.

Tony needed to sit down.

Rhodey told him that he was embarrassing the AvengersInitiative and he said, “I can’t fucking help it.” May got a phone call andasked Bruce if he could take her kid for a second. Bruce did, but notwillingly. Bruce didn’t deal with anything under the age of five. He could not.He didn’t understand their language or codes and he had very strong feelingsaround their breakability. So he handed Peter off to Rhodey as soon as hepossibly could. Rhodey saw Tony’s suffering and sighed.

“He’s just gonna start wailin’ Tones,” he said, bouncing thekid. Peter had become very interested in the seam of his sleeve.

Yes, yes, yes. But! But!

“I’m gonna give him to you, but you cannot, I repeat, cannotbe disappointed when he starts crying, we clear?”

Crystal.

“Alright.” Rhodey detached Peter from his shoulder andhanded him over to Tony’s hands and everything was fine. The klaxons shut offlike a switch had been flicked. Peter chewed on some fingers and looked up athim with big, liquid brown eyes. He did not scream. A good sign. He even dug afew of the fingers of the other hand into Tony’s shoulder. He was warm and softand so, so small.

After a moment, he stopped chewing and looked down to theground and cooed “Waaaay.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony asked him, adjusting him a little bit closerto his chest.

“Mm.”

Fuck.

Goddamnit.

“What’s down there?” Tony asked, looking down to see whatthe kid was staring at. The question brought Pete’s attention right back up tohis face. He blinked at Tony like he’d never seen him before. Tony practicallyfelt Rhodey brace for impact beside him.

But still. No crying.

Thank god.

“Hey, there. Welcome back,” Tony said, bouncing a bit.

Peter hummed at him again and patted gently at his face. Hislittle hands were warm and soft. Tony could die. He could die happy now. Noklaxons. No crying.

“I would kill for you,” he said mournfully. Peter leaned upand pressed their cheeks together. His was almost entirely chubby baby fat.Inconceivably soft. He was really into the rasp Tony’s own cheek made and wentto business giving himself beard burn in his enthusiasm. Tony had to pull himaway before he rubbed his face raw.

“You,” he told the boy seriously, “I would kill for you.”

Peter cocked his head like he hadn’t quite caught that. Tonyrepeated it for his edification. He accepted it with grace and went back tochewing on his fingers.

“Ah, he’s not scared of you today,” May noted when she cameback in from her phone call.

No. Praise be. He handed the child back and felt lessdesperate than before. She laughed at the visible relief on his face.

“He was pretty volatile the other day, don’t take itpersonally,” she said. “You should have seen him with Wade.”

Ahahahaha. Yeah.

Wait.

What?

Peter loved Wilson. He admired the fuck out of the guynormal-sized and was obsessed with him while fun-sized. May explained thatWilson had heard what had happened and had dropped in to make sure all wasright with their tiny family and to offer his services in the case of any bumpsin the road. He evidently had not planned on becoming Peter’s obsession.

“He’s kind of a natural,” May said, “Although, I’m not surehe’s overly comfortable with it.”

Yeah. You don’t say.

“Pete cried for nearly half an hour after he left, it waspretty surprising. He’s not much of a crier.”

You. don’t. Say.

“He’s fine, of course. Wade would never hurt him.”

No, because Tony would kill him if he did.

May took Peter’s tiny hand and had him wave to them all onthe way out, once a clean bill of health had been acquired. Pete didn’t seem tofully appreciate the gesture, but he was into the waving part and smiled widefor it, which was more than enough for Tony.

“I think I might have to murder Wilson,” he admitted toRhodey once they were gone.

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Rhodey said.

No, he was probably right.

He was definitely right.

Tony actually got to see this beautiful friendship when Maycalled him out of the blue and said that someone had bugged their house. She’dfelt a little uncomfortable as of late and so had called Wilson for aprofessional opinion and Wilson had located three bugs in the Parker residence.He was trying to do one last sweep when Tony got there to collect them. Tonysuspected it was SHIELD. He suspected this because Cap had had the same problemthe other day.

He didn’t make it a habit to go to the Parker residence andwas always taken aback by the sheer amount of foliage in the front room. Itlooked like May had pushed some of the more fragile containers to the backs ofshelves or moved them up out of the reach of tiny hands. But she needn’t beconcerned at the moment, because Peter was dead set on ruining Wilson’sbug-sweep.

He definitely thought that Wilson’s time was better used, inthat moment, in playing with him. Wilson, for his part, was just trying to dohis damn job for once. He’d take two steps and nearly trip over the kid andthen grab him and dump him on the couch, which Peter thought was the height ofexcitement. He scrambled off the couch and went to go throw himself back intoWilson’s field of vision as soon as humanly possible.

Wade, bless him, could only deal with this so much.

“Baby boy,” he said, holding Peter at eye level the thirdtime he’d done this, just in the time Tony had been there. “I am trying to do athing. You are being a very, very, verygood disrupter. The best disrupter.”

Peter decided this was high praise. When Wade tried to puthim back down on the couch this time, Peter whined and latched onto his neck.Wade gently extricated him and held his hands at his sides when he sat him downthis time.

“That’s a no,” he said firmly.

Peter made an upset hiccup.

Wade valiantly did not do what Tony would have done whichwas shatter to bits and give the kid anything he wanted.

“You stay here,” Wilson instructed. Then he let go of Pete’shands and stood up and went back to his careful sweeping.

Peter watched him for a few seconds before he got bored ofbeing in one place. He started to off the couch, but Wilson caught him in theact.

“Ah,” he said with a finger. Peter squirmed back into place.

A new game.

And Wilson knew it. He turned very slowly back to his work.Within moments, Pete was at it again.

“AH.”

Back on the cushion.

The kid practically rattled in happiness.

May hid her smile while she handed Tony the found bugs.Yeah. SHIELD grade. He sighed.

“Wilson, last time I ran into this, there was five.”

“Copy that. Here’s four.”

Huh. What do you know? Guy knew what he was doing. Tony tookthe fourth bug and inspected it for insignia. Peter made a noise of triumph.

Tony looked over and they all saw that he was proud ofhimself for having escaped the couch while Wilson had been occupied liberatingthe most recent bug. He’d latched himself to Wilson’s arm.

“Not this again,” Wade moaned.

Again?

“No sticking,” Wade threatened.

“Ya.”

“I said no.”

“Ya!”

“Aigh. If you’re fucking sticking—no, of course, you’resticking. Peter.”

Uh.

“He likes to stick to Wade’s suit,” May said evenly.

“PETER.”

Yeah, he was getting that impression.

“OFF.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Nooo!”

“Oh my god. Child. I am doing work.”

Tony very very rarely saw Wilson any kind of serious, so itwas kind of amazing to see him so put out.

“Way!”

“What?”

“Way!!”

“Volume does not equal clarity, tiny monster. What?”

Peter hunkered in, beyond happy with his work. He did notlet go of Wilson’s arm. He cuddled his forehead into Wilson’s pec and the guylegitimately took a few calming breaths.

“You,” he said slowly to the side of Peter’s head, “Are a lot.”

“Way.”

“Glad you know. Alright, fine. That’s your decision. Up wego.”

Peter, for whatever reason, was chill with latching ontoWade when he was on the ground, but as soon as there was air-time involved,this relationship broke down.

No.

He did not want to be held. Or carried. Or any of that. No.He wanted down. Immediately.

“No, no. We are making decisions today,” Wade said over thewhining. “You made that one, so you gotta live with it.”

Peter huffed and puffed and then hiccupped like he was goingto cry, but Wilson just carried on with his business, one-handed this time. Andsomehow, this ignoring process worked? Peter’s hiccupping settled down withWade’s jerky, searching movements. Peter watched his chin as he felt under ashelve blindly. He grabbed at it..

May smiled again and then turned to Tony and mouthed ‘anatural.’

Yeah, so it would seem.

Wilson found two more bugs and, once Peter had settled infor a nap and could be transferred to May’s arms without incident, completedone good last sweep and declared the home bug-free. He said that he needed totake off, he hadn’t anticipated this taking so much time. He informed May thathe’d be in touch and started to leave, but it was as if Peter had a fuckin’Wilson alert in his head. He woke up instantly. Wilson was half through thedoor when he startled just wailing. The way he had when Tony had tried to holdhim the first time.

Devastated. Devastating.

May shushed him and muffled him by tucking him into herneck. Wilson’s body spoke tons of guilt.

“He’s fine, Wade. Go ahead. Thank you for your help,” Maysaid.

Wilson nodded, hesitant. And then hurried off to whatevercrow’s nest he needed to go perch in.

Tony took the bugs back to the lab.

Peter didn’t want to play later that week, when Bruce wastrying to take his temperature. He scowled at the thermometer and hid in his aunt’sneck.

“Bad day?” Bruce asked once the child had been traumatizedto obtain the temp.

“Very,” May sighed. Tony felt bad for her. She was still asingle mom. She didn’t exactly have a whole lot of extra time or support inthis surprise toddler business. He’d offered to help, but while Pete was happyto be held by him, and by Pepper, he would not tolerate their prolongedpresence without his aunt. That was asking for tears and frustration.

May said that her husband had been a big help back whenPeter had first come to live with them. He hadn’t quite been this little, butBen, as an electrician, had had a little more flexibility in his schedule andso could do a lot of the childcare that May’s job didn’t really allow for.

It was harder without him and harder with a younger,traumatized kid who only had one relative to cling to. She mentioned offhandthat Wilson had babysat for her for a few hours that week, and that had gonefine. But she was thinking that maybe she’d ask Franklin Nelson to do it, sincehe was really good with kids this age.

And like?

Franklin Nelson? Like, the lawyer? The one who worked forHB&C? The guy who took the Jessica Jones and Punisher cases? That FranklinNelson?

“He’s a friend of our family,” May explained.

Huh.

No shit.

“Peter is very fond of his friend Matt.”

What, like. Matt Murdock, Matt? Infamous blind legalbulldog, Matt Murdock?

“That’s the one.”

Like. Okay? That was weird. Would he be alright with them?

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

Well, if she was sure.

She asked if she could give Tony’s number to the lawyers incase something happened and she couldn’t leave work and she absolutely could dothat.

Tony heard not a peep from the lawyers the next day. Or theone after that. Franklin Nelson, he knew, was a very responsible guy. And if hewas used to little kids, then it made sense that he had the situation undercontrol.

Tony did, however, get a text from May respectfully askingif he could grab the kid and hold him for an hour or so, as her shift had beenunexpectedly prolonged.

Which was how Tony found himself in Hell’s Kitchen, underPepper’s orders to be respectful and not get shot, knocking on the closed upoffice door of Nelson, Murdock & Page.

Page, if he recalled, was the crazy reporter who picked afight with half of the hotshot murderers in the city. The Punisher. WilsonFisk. Union Allied. Gal didn’t know how to quit. He was somewhat surprisedthen, for the door to open to the lady herself with Peter securely settled on herhip.

“Go away, he’s mine,” she said. And closed the door.

Uh.

Awkward.

The door reopened to the tune of Nelson scolding hispartner. He invited Tony into the place with greater politeness. It was a hugechange from the guy’s old office at HB&C. Much tighter. Warmer. Very homey.

Karen Page had settled herself behind the secretary’s deskto bounce Peter in her lap. The kid hummed with the movement and seemed to becomforted by this.

“May said she was working late, but she didn’t have to sendyou around,” Nelson said. He himself had changed into warmer colors with themove it seemed. No more stiff blue suits for this guy. Tony could dig it.“Really, we can watch him until she’s done with work.”

“It’s fine, I’m being selfish, too,” Tony admitted offhandedly.Nelson seemed to understand this. He looked over to where Karen Page hadwrapped Pete up in her arms and was going through the ABCs with him. He mumbledalong, more or less in time.

“Kare, I’m afraid the time has come,” Nelson said withfinality.

“Noooooo.”

“Now is the time, girl. Nothing you can do.”

“Matt! Foggy is abusing me!”

“Thank you, I’ll take that.”

“Kidnapping, Matt! This man is kidnapping my ward!”

Peter went easily into Nelson’s arms and buried his fingersinto his collar. Page took it hard and slumped down in despair. Nelson cluckedat her and rolled his eyes and went to hand Peter over but two things happened.

One, Peter took the opportunity to stick to Nelson’s shirtand jacket and two, Murdock came out of his cave to investigate the aura ofdespair emitting from Page, who was evidently slowing descending to the flooras goo.

“We lose Karen?” Murdock asked in a surprisingly pleasanttone.

“That’s a yes. Peter, let go, honey.”

Ooh. Tricky. How to handle this one without revealing Peteto be Spiderkid. Tony moved forward and began to help Nelson dislodge thefingers. They did not come willingly and as soon as one hand was removed, Petermade an unhappy grunt and dug the other one in deeper.

“C’mon, kiddo,” Tony encouraged. No dice.

Murdock raised an eyebrow their way and then busied himselfcurling over the desk to tap at Page. Possibly to revive her. Who knew?

“Matty, can you come here?” Nelson finally asked when bothhis and Tony’s attempts had run their course. Pete wasn’t budging and he’dhidden his face in Nelson’s neck to prove it. Murdock lifted himself up frombehind the desk as if to say, ‘who? Me?”

“Matt.”

“Alright, alright.”

Wow, so begrudging.

Murdock kept a hand out when he moved forward without astick or anything to help him, and found Nelson’s shoulder without muchtrouble. He then, somewhat playfully, felt around until he was dancing fingersacross Peter’s face. The kid giggled.

“Who’s this?” Murdock asked.

More giggling.

“Well, certainly doesn’t seem like Foggy. Not grumpy enough.”

Nelson gave him a flat look that he couldn’t see, but musthave been able to somehow feel. Murdock had perfectly straight teeth. It waskind of eerie.

He trailed his hand a little further along until he wastickling Peter’s neck and, in his moment of weakness, swept the kid right offof Foggy’s shoulder. Like some kind of ninja. It happened so fast that Tonyalmost missed it entirely. Like.

How the fuck did he do that? Could he figure out wherePeter’s arms were just by sound?

Dude. He needed to look into how blind people experiencedthe world. That shit was incredible.

“Thank you,” Nelson sighed. Murdock tucked the kid into hisown neck. Nelson stiffened. “Matt. Matty. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He spun around and headed back towards hisoffice.

Oh.

Tony got it now.

“Matthew. Bring him back.”

“What? Can’t see you, Fogs. Can you speak a little louder?”

Nelson’s irritation, which Tony had seen go as high as afour out of ten, ratcheted up to a six in no time at all.

“You two are insufferable,” he said.

“WHAT?”

“WHAT, FOGGY?” Page echoed from the floor.

Nelson very clearly had strong feelings about his partnerswhich he was actively repressing to save face in front of Tony.

“I am so sorry. Give me five minutes,” he said and then leftTony standing in the waiting room while he went into Murdock’s office andclosed the door behind him. Two minutes passed in silence, then Page sniffedand picked herself up off the floor, collected her shit from her own office andheaded out. She resolutely called Tony a pig before she closed the door behindher, which was, in retrospect, understandable.

He didn’t know which part of his being in specific hadoffended her, but he was used to this treatment.

Nelson remerged around the three minute mark with a verygrumpy Peter once again in his arms, although this time, less interested inclinging to him. Apparently, he didn’t want to be separated from Murdock. Thiswas conveyed by the whining and grabby hands over Nelson’s shoulder.

Nelson handed him off to Tony without a struggle this time.Peter huffed up at him and pointedly looked back towards Murdock, now skulkingirritably in his office entrance. Defeated, but only for now.

Right.

Tony wasn’t sticking around for that battle. He thankedNelson and made a hasty retreat.

Peter wailed half of the way back to the tower. Didn’t likethe car seat. Didn’t like the car. Didn’t like Tony at the minute either.

Ah, well. T’was the toddler life, wasn’t it?

#fic #also I eschew basically everything about endgame #i am aware that tony and pepper have a baby #that is fine #in my verses they do not

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