#hmm i can see them hooking up during this at some point i should rate it m to be safe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

The Fourth Wall by TheAuthor5263

Anime » Boruto: Naruto Next Generations Rated: T, English, Adventure & Romance, [Boruto U., Sarada U.] Mitsuki, Words: 16k+, Favs: 1, Follows: 1, Published: Aug 29 Updated: Sep 28

Chapter 1

One goal. One purpose. One mission. All they needed was to hook him on the prospects of their desire and the rest would go swimmingly. Or so they thought.

Using the cover of the shadows, the author spied into the window of the local burger shop from across the street. The dim glow of a laptop screen illuminated their face as they typed a line of text into a word document. Immediately, their appearance shifted to that of a Konoha local that seemed neither feminine nor masculine.

It wasn't their plan to involve themselves in the story, but rather, to watch and record as the mission they gave to the Hokage's son unfolded. The less details everyone else knew, the better.

According to the plotline of the anime, Boruto and his friends were in Kaminari Burger having a conversation. In approximately 4 minutes the episode would end, and Cho-Cho would enter. The plan needed to be enacted before her entrance, or the author would have to exit the world and start from scratch all over again.

Looking as casual as an introvert could, they entered into the restaurant and purchased a meal, sitting down at a nearby table to wait for the moment of truth.

"When are we going to go on an S-rank mission?" Boruto complained to his teammates.

"S-rank is reserved for Jonin. We won't be taking on something like that anytime soon. Especially not with someone who would use scientific ninja tools to cheat during the Chunin exams on our team. We're lucky they're still giving us missions at all," sighed Sarada. "How did I get lumped together with someone so irresponsible?"

Immediately pouting, Boruto retorted back a half-sarcastic, "sorry."

"Boruto," began Mitsuki, "let's do our best in the next Chunin exam. Then we can climb our way to Jonin status and take on s-rank missions."

"That's more like it! Now, to try the new limited-edition burger!"

The author glanced up as Boruto happily dug into the newest trend: the sweets burger. Almost immediately after swallowing, he stuck his tongue out.

"Sweet! But… actually pretty good!"

"Hmm," Sarada mused, "maybe I'll go buy one."

Mitsuki smiled. "How unlike you, Sarada."

"Hm?"

"You always make fun of Boruto for wanting to try every single burger here. Maybe you're starting to enjoy them after all?"

"I-I am not!" Sarada insisted, pushing up her glasses. "Besides, I like sweets anyways. Although, combining it with a burger does sound kind of repulsive… Maybe I won't try it..."

"Everyone should understand the amazingness of Kaminari Burger's limited-edition burgers," replied Boruto. With an aura of confidence about him, he stood to his feet and smiled. "If you like sweets, you'll like this, trust me!"

"Well, I did tell Cho-Cho I was going to the sweets shop with her tomorrow…" Sarada glumly rested her cheek on her fist. "I don't know if I have enough money left to afford both."

"Then I'll buy you one and make you admit that it's delicious," Boruto declared.

The author watched as he climbed out of the booth and headed towards the counter, leaving behind an unamused Sarada. Three minutes remaining.

"You two get along well, don't you?"

"That again," Sarada mused, slumping her head into her hand. "I don't understand what you see in that idiot, Mitsuki."

"Boruto has some surprisingly good points." Mitsuki smiled.

Sarada just rolled her eyes and averted her gaze.

"One limited-edition sweets burger," said Boruto proudly as he placed the tray in front of Sarada and took his seat next to Mitsuki. "Enjoy. You'd better eat the whole thing since I paid for it," he added with a sly smile.

Sarada narrowed her eyes. "If it's gross, I'm throwing it away."

"Come on, a deal is a deal!"

"I don't recall making a deal with you. You just went and bought this of your own free will."

"Oi, Mitsuki! Tell her she has to eat it."

"If she doesn't like it, why don't you eat it Boruto," said Mitsuki as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"But it has her germs on it!"

"You could cut off the part she bit off of," he replied, holding up a plastic knife.

"…Fair point. Now hurry up and try it and be amazed!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Sarada took a bite of the burger. Her eyes widened. They began to sparkle. "Sweet! But this is actually really good!"

Boruto smiled. "See? I told you. And now I've used up all my mission earnings… Hey Mitsuki, any word from Konohamaru on missions?"

"Not that I know of… Things have seemed rather slow lately."

Boruto sighed. "More low paying d-rank missions… Ah, I'm so tired of this."

The author decided it was now or never. Getting up from their spot at the table, they threw their trash away and headed towards the group. "You."

Boruto blinked up at the figure, taken slightly aback.

"You are shinobi, correct?"

"W-What if we are?"

"Come with me." The author turned and began to walk away.

Boruto stood up, facing their back. "Why should we follow you?"

"You wanted to take on an S-rank mission, did you not?"

Boruto's eyes began to sparkle. "S-rank… Finally!"

"Boruto, wait!" Sarada's hand came down like lightning on his shoulder.

"What?"

"We should only be taking missions from the mission board with the approval of Konohamaru-sensei. This isn't something you can decide on your own. S-class quests involve fighting high level threats."

The author stopped, turning towards the team once more. "This mission involves a higher level of secrecy than can be trusted to the woman running the mission board, but it isn't difficult to carry out. No fighting will be involved, and you don't have to leave the town."

Sarada narrowed her eyes. "How do we know it isn't a trap?"

"If you doubt my words, you don't have to take it. As for me, I have a request that must be fulfilled by your team. Why would I lead you into a trap?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

The author sighed. "You possess something unique to the Uchiha clan known as the sharingan, do you not?"

Sarada backed up. "How did you…"

"If you'd like, I'll take these two and brief them on the mission in an open area of your choosing. You can stand back and watch the area with your sharingan. If you still don't trust me, bring that friend of yours that can sense chakra, Inojin, to come along as well. But time is of the essence."

"If I remember right, Ino-shika-cho are out on a day mission right now… I don't know when they'll be back. Sarada, it wouldn't hurt to hear… I'm sorry, who are you?"

"If my identity could be made known so easily, I would not have to ask this request of you."

"And yet you came to an open place like Kaminari Burger to ask us," prodded Mitsuki.

The author lowered their head. "Fear not. I have already disguised my face."

Mitsuki eyed Boruto who only shrugged back. "Seems suspicious, but if Sarada's watching, it should be fine. The least we can do is hear them out. Come on, Mitsuki."

"Wait, Boruto!" Sarada put her hand on his shoulder. "This is still too dangerous. I don't approve."

"Then you don't have to come. We get to pick the location, right?"

"Yes."

"Hold on just a—"

"Sarada, let's use the training grounds behind your house."

"But—"

"Very well."

Boruto turned around, his hands casually folded behind his head. "Don't worry," he whispered, "Sasuke-san is home right now, isn't he? If anything happens, we'll be able to hold whatever it is off until he gets there."

Sarada sighed. "Fine. But just because we go doesn't mean we accept. And we're only there to hear them out!"

The author nodded and allowed Boruto and Mitsuki to lead the way to the training grounds. Sarada trailed behind, a look of discomfort on her face. After a short while, the author took out their laptop and began to write.

"Hm? Isn't that the same device Denki has?"

Boruto turned around and eyed the device in the author's hands. "You're right. What are you using that for?"

"It's to record the events of this mission," replied the author, typing a few lines of text into an open word document.

"Hmmm… Sounds like hard work."

A snake slithered out of the collar of Mitsuki's kimono to spy on the author from the front. The author just smiled and waved at the snake.

"By the way," said Boruto, "Sarada's dad is crazy strong. He's also my master. He'll be nearby when you explain, so if you do try anything funny, you're as good as dead."

The author sighed. "Still untrusting as ever, I see."

"You can't blame us," replied Mitsuki, "you haven't given us any reason to trust you."

"I can't argue with that," they replied, eyelids growing heavy as they walked. Typing a line of text into the laptop, they ridded themselves of the need to sleep and eat. Being inside a story was certainly convenient.

Long at last, a little clearing came into view. The author eyed Sarada's position from a tree. From that distance, she won't be able to hear… Good.

"So, what is this S-class mission?"

The author closed their laptop and held it behind their back. "It concerns the townspeople."

"The townspeople?" Mitsuki asked.

"Yes. They are all awaiting a certain something, some more so than the end of all evil."

Boruto flinched. "More than putting a stop to the Otsutsuki? More than their lives?"

"I never said they were living here."

"Then what's it got to do with us?"

"Not us," said the author, turning in Boruto's direction, "you."

Mitsuki stepped in front of Boruto, his eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"You are aware that Sasuke's rinnegan can open portals to different dimensions, yes?"

"How'd you already know about Sasuke-san?!"

The author sighed. "I am from another dimension, and I bring a message from my people that only you can fulfill. Some have been awaiting this moment for nearly eight years."

"Eight years?" Mitsuki asked. "Why haven't they acted already?"

"Because Boruto wasn't old enough yet," replied the author.

"So, what's the special mission?"

"The mission itself is quite simple," the author said, closing their laptop and holding it at their side. "Boruto, lend me your ear."

"…My ear?"

"It'd be better if you were the only one who knew what the mission was. It's yours to complete, and yours to accept."

"Then why did you call all of us out here?!"

"Because you would have trusted me even less if I called you out alone…"

Boruto eyed the author with suspicion. "Fine. I got it. Just tell me already," he said turning to the side. Mitsuki readied himself for battle as the author neared Boruto's ear and began to whisper the details of the mission.

A short sentence later, Boruto jerked backwards. "HUH?! I AM NOT DOING THAT! NO WAY!"

"Boruto!" A group of snakes came out from under Mitsuki's Kimono.

"Wait, Mitsuki…"

Mitsuki frowned. Boruto was hiding his face with his hair.

The author smiled. "Whether you chose to accept or not, I will not be returning home until the mission is completed. Which means, you can decline, but I'll be following you. Waiting. For the rest of my life." With that, the author took their laptop back out and began reading the writing on the screen.

"You're saying until I do that, you won't leave us alone? And people have been waiting for that since… Wait, since I was that young?! And how is this supposed to be an S-rank mission?!"

The author only continued to smile. "Because I am from another dimension, it would be bothersome if people like your father found out and tried to take me into custody. In fact, this whole world would essentially be ruined if I had to stop several people to achieve my goal… I am an all-powerful being, after all. It would start a war, my people versus yours. And this world would be obliterated. This mission is to be handled as though it were top secret. I trust you can complete it?"

Boruto's eyes narrowed. "You're joking. Sarada, go call Sasuke-san!"

"Hmm… I suppose I'll have to show you a bit of a demonstration." The author opened a separate word document and typed a few lines into their laptop. Moments later, Mitsuki disappeared.

"Mitsuki!" Boruto waved his hands around. "What did you do with Mitsuki?!"

"I just deleted him from existence." Of course, actually doing that would be a violation of the rules. They had merely put a soundproof black box around Mitsuki and made the box invisible to Boruto and Sarada. But they didn't need to know that.

"What do you… Give Mitsuki back!" Boruto threw a punch, but the moment his hand was within a foot of the device, it started to vaporize. He screamed, writhing in pain.

The author simply typed a few lines of text into their laptop, and within moments, Boruto's severed hand was fixed and Mitsuki stood in front of him.

Sarada looked on in horror. "It's the device," she said, throwing a kunai towards the laptop, but before it could reach, it vaporized. A few taps of the keyboard later, Sarada and Boruto was frozen.

"…Shadow paralysis jutsu...?" They struggled to move, but it was no use.

"I don't want to cause you any purposeful harm… In fact, I'd prefer to keep you alive." The author turned towards the struggling Sarada and Boruto. "I can heal you, and even revive you, if necessary. However… I would like to go home at some point. Boruto. Please give this mission some consideration."

"If you have so much power," began Mitsuki, "why did you coerce Boruto into accepting a mission from you? Couldn't you just force him to complete it?"

"My people have placed certain limitations on my existence. One of them being manipulating the emotions and thoughts of others."

"Hmm… I see…"

"I really do wish to interfere as little as possible. When and if Boruto decides to fulfill my request is entirely up to him… That being said, should I grow tired of waiting, I may try to hurry things along…"

"And how would you do that?"

"Well," said the author, typing away, "bringing s-class level threats into existence and starting a war are within my power. But a simple mission like this hardly worth such drastic measures. Instead, I might give you a rash, make a frog jump into your drink, put bugs in your food, turn the weather rainy… small things here and there as a reminder that I'm still waiting."

"Hmmm… Sounds rather unpleasant," replied Mitsuki, connecting his kimono sleeves. "And? If Boruto does complete this quest, does he get something as a reward?"

"The reward for completing the quest is the erasure of my existence from your world… And the satisfaction of completing it." With that, the author turned away. "And Boruto," they called, typing a new line of text into their laptop, "If you get punched after completion of the mission, it doesn't count."

Boruto pointed a finger in the author's direction. "T-That's just playing dirty! Come back here so I can fight you!"

A small flower sprouted at Boruto's feet and laughed up at him. Boruto stomped on the flower, but before his foot could make contact, it was gone.

"Flaunting your power to do anything… Gah! Why me?!"

Sarada put both hands on Boruto's shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. "Boruto."

He looked up at her, his face a mixture of embarrassment, anger, and confusion.

"What was the mission? I need you to tell me."

Cheeks pinkening, Boruto knocked her hands away, turning to the side to stalk off. "I'm not doing it. I refuse! Especially not… What kind of s-class mission is this?! The s-class mission to kill me?"

Mitsuki laughed. A snake slithered off of Boruto's shoulder and into his Kimono.

"Mitsuki…" Boruto watched as the tail of the snake disappeared into his sleeve. "Did you overhear…"

Mitsuki simply stood arm's length away, a smile on his innocent face. "Boruto, I think you should complete the mission. After all, all you have to do is—"

"Hold it right there Mitsuki." Boruto put his hands up palms out, his bangs shielding his eyes from the view of his onlookers. "Not another word."

Sarada put her hands on her hips. "What on earth is going on with you two?"

"Forget the mission. I'm going home."

"You're just going to let an s-class level threat walk away?! I don't want bugs in my food!" Sarada yelled after him.

"If I have an unlimited amount of time to complete it, I'm going to drag it out as long as possible. There's no reason for me to complete it like this," he whined, running his hands through his hair.

"You'd better complete it before that thing brings the apocalypse onto our village."

"I think we should give it a name," said Mitsuki with a smile.

"Mitsuki! You're not helping!"

"How about Hebi? It surprisingly reminds me of my parent."

"Hmm," Sarada mused, "that's not bad. It kind of reminds me of a snake, in a way. Ah, more importantly! Boruto! Tell me what the mission was!"

Boruto ran away. "I can't, ok? You heard that creep say that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone."

"Then why does Mitsuki get to know?"

"MITSUKI!" Boruto yelled, dashing back to where Mitsuki was. "Don't even think about telling her."

With a nod, Mitsuki looked towards Sarada. "Sorry. That's how it is. I have a feeling if I opened my mouth to tell you, my tongue might get vaporized. Don't worry, you'll find out what the mission is when Boruto completes it."

Sarada's hand reached up to rest on her chin. "So it involves me?"

"Don't think about it anymore," said Boruto, running up to Mitsuki and dragging him off. "I'm not doing it. Come on Mitsuki, we're going home!"

From the shadows, the author smirked. I expected him to rebel, but not quite to this extent. If he has no intention of completing it tomorrow either, I may have to pressure him… After all, I only have a week before the anime starts up and he loses his memory.

#Boruto #The fourth wall fanfiction

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sunder-soul · 3 years

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first of all your work is AMAZING- like damn that smut? 👀 but anyway- i’ve had this concept for awhile imagine that reader was the one who made the design for the dark mark for tom riddle? like y/n is an artist and likes to draw, paint, all that jazz, and she saw the symbol in like her dreams or something and decided to draw it. and then tommy boy sees it and takes a liking to it like, “...i could use that-“ i don’t if this is a weird ask or not but i thought it was interesting. 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

So this has been in my inbox for so long bc I just couldn’t crack how I wanted to tackle it and then yesterday BOOM I had an idea so here I am!! Hope you enjoy 💖

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Consume

Summary: Reader looks into Tom Riddle’s tea leaves on an unlucky day in Divination. Something looks back.

Word count: 1.5k

Content warning: none.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You’ve heard of the domino effect before, but never has it been so grimly demonstrated to you than in that exact moment standing in front of the entire Divination classroom with the only spare seat left opposite Tom bloody Riddle.

It started (or at least, as far as you can tell) an entire week earlier when you’d walked in on Ophelia Greengrass sobbing in the fourth-floor girl’s bathroom during second period. Up until then you’d not spoken more than half a dozen words to Ophelia across your entire time at Hogwarts, but it had felt wrong not to say anything – and as it turned out, Ophelia had been in dire need of someone saying something to her. She’d been dating Lestrange for a little over three months and by the sounds of it things were not going well.

So of course you’d comforted her as best you could but it was hardly surprising when she tentatively approached again you the next day, and the next, and the next, and then every single day for an entire week there had been a new horror story until yesterday you’d finally had enough and told her that she should break up with him.

That, of course, was why he’d confronted you in the corridor that morning on the way to Charms, angrily accusing you of losing him his girlfriend. And that was why you and Lestrange had been caught by Peeves with a watering can full of Bulbadox juice brandished gleefully in his spindly hands.

Which was how you both ended up in the hospital wing for the entirety of first period, Lestrange with boils all over his face and down his back, and you with them on your hands from where you’d managed to shield yourself.

You’d left Lestrange behind complaining loudly as the matron peeled back his school shirt, sprinting all the way up to the Divination tower at breakneck speed, throwing the trapdoor to the classroom open and scrambling inside, the trapdoor falling shut behind you, the very final domino.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor,” you gasp as you spin around to face her. “Peeves caught me and Lestrange!”

The class snickers.

“That’s quite alright, quite alright…” Cassandra Trelawney says, deep and ringing, “we have not yet started, take a seat with Mr Riddle and we shall begin…”

You freeze. Riddle…?

That’s when it hits you.

Lestrange always sat with Riddle in Divination.

And you’re so late that everyone else already has partners.

You turn to see Tom Riddle sitting at the back of the room looking at you with a polite but blank expression on his face. The class giggles again. The vast majority of Hogwarts students are at least somewhat in love with Riddle – beautiful, intelligent, polite Riddle, orphaned and poor but refined and successful. Better yet he barely speaks to anyone, leaving a lot of empty space of endless possibility for people to fill in with their personal daydreams.

He scares you.

Those horrible boys that hang around him remind you of flies hanging around rotting meat. And if they’re the flies, that makes Riddle…

You grit your teeth and step forward, weaving between the other tables and snickering students to take your seat, dropping your bag to the floor and eyeing the tea set on the small table apprehensively.

“Begin your readings!” Trelawney calls.

You frown and turn to Riddle questioningly. “We’re doing tea leaves?”

“Tasseography,” he corrects smoothly, leaning forward and picking up the burnished copper pot with one hand and pouring steaming tea into the little china cup in front of him.

You blink at him silently. There’s something manufactured about his face that you can’t put your finger on.

“Shall I go first or would you like to?” Riddle asks casually, pouring you a cup, too.

“I don’t mind,” you mumble, looking away.

Riddle sets the pot down and picks up his cup in long, elegant fingers, lifting it to his lips. “The instructions are on page seventy-nine,” he says after taking a sip, looking around the room disinterestedly.

You pull out your book and find the right chapter and scan the first few paragraphs as Riddle finishes his tea, sipping absently at your own, and by the time he finally hands you his cup your heart rate has finally returned to normal from running up eight flights of stairs.

“You have a scattered-type formation,” you say, checking it against the diagram on your page, “and it’s north-west oriented.”

“Mhmm,” Riddle says noncommittedly, his dark eyes level on the parchment before him as he takes notes.

You lean forward over Riddle’s cup and frown as you compare it to the pictures in the book. “That looks like shepherd’s crook,” you say, pointing to a cluster shaped like a pinched hook, “which means… either the responsibility to protect, or the exertion of power and authority over a group of people.”

Riddle scoffs very lightly, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he continues to write.

Something about it had clearly struck a chord with him, but you pointedly train your eyes back on your book. “Oh,” you frown, checking his cup again. “Or it’s the old glyph for seven.”

Riddle stops writing. You look up curiously at the sudden lack of his quill scratching evenly on his parchment to find him perfectly still, his eyes on your face. “Seven?” he repeats, tone distinct.

You nod and push your book around to show him. “The number seven used to be drawn like that, too.”

Riddle’s eyes drop to the page and linger there for a moment before he resumes taking his notes – though his expression is much more preoccupied than before.

But something in Riddle’s cup has caught your eye. Beside the shepherd’s crook/number seven is a lump of tea leaves so distinct in form that it’s almost comical – the round of the cranium, the square of a mandible, and gaps in the leaves to indicate two eye sockets.

“Oh,” you say in surprise, pulling your book back around. “Wow, that’s pretty clearly a…”

You trail off, frowning. You’ve noticed the tea leaves below it, the long twisting trail that leads directly into the skull’s mouth. A cold, creeping feeling is curling in your stomach as something about the image before you seems to move, you can almost see the thing writhing, it almost looks like a…

“How are we going?” Trelawney asks, suddenly right beside you.

You jump, looking up at her in panic. “Fine,” you say quickly.

She lifts her brows, assessing you thoughtfully. “Hmm,” she says, before glancing at Riddle. “And you?”

“Fine,” Riddle echoes smoothly. But he’s not looking at Trelawney.

He’s looking at you.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The image worms into your thoughts like a deep root, twisting into places you don’t expect to find it and spreading itself out more and more. The dreams are first, and then the nightmares, and finally the night terrors. The skull hovers before you, its pitch, hollow eyes bore into you, the snake coiling endlessly with its fangs yawning wide.

Something about it is cold and evil, some sort of strange perversion of an ouroboros, the eternal snake broken by the skull’s mouth.

Consuming it.

“What is that?”

Your head snaps up from your parchment feeling like you’ve just been jolted awake from a deep sleep, and it takes you a second to process the sight of Tom Riddle before you, his eyes fixed attentively on the parchment strewn on top of the essay you’re supposed to be writing.

He’d caught you drawing it for the hundredth time.

“Nothing,” you say hastily, sliding it away under a book. “Just a doodle.”

Riddle’s eyes flick to yours. There’s a cold rigidity to his expression that you don’t like. It’s a coldness that feels horribly familiar.

For a moment you almost think he’s going to force you to show him, but after a long moment Riddle looks away and he’s gone, disappearing off further into the library. You exhale in relief and pull out the parchment again.

Drawing it made the thoughts go away for a bit, like manifesting the horrible thing distracted it from its need to live in your head. You lift your quill and carefully write a single word next to the skull.

Consume.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The parchment goes missing the next day.

You never prove that he took it, never even mention it to him, but Riddle’s eyes have a cold glimmer to them when he catches your eye in Divination next, the smallest curl to his lips like he’s daring you to bring it up.

The dreams abruptly stop.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

When you see it next, it’s in a photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet beneath a terrified headline, a spectre hovering just like it had in your nightmares at school years prior. Except this time it’s real. This time it’s above the burning remains of the family home of a prominent Muggle-born politician and Voldemort’s name is a shadow on everyone’s lips.

You stare at it on the page, the snake writhing in ink, the black, hollow eyes of the skull, and you think about Tom Riddle’s cold smile watching you from across the classroom, his manufactured beauty, the boys that hung around him like flies around rotten meat.

He’s named it the Dark Mark.

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hotchnisslovechild · 3 years

Text

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn

Rating: E Fandom: Big Shot Pairing: Marvyn Korn/Holly Barrett Word Count: 7900 Tags: 18+, Explicit Sexual Content, Only One Bed, Sharing a Bed, PWP, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Post S1 Summary: Away at a team camp, Holly and Marvyn have to share a hotel room.

AO3 Link or read below!

It was a 2-hour bus ride to Westmont College. Well, for Holly and the girls that is. Marvyn decided to drive to the team camp separately. He loved being with the girls and Holly, but 2 hours on a small bus all together? He would much rather enjoy some “Marvyn Time” and drive by himself. It worked out well that way actually; Holly and Marvyn needed their own car to drive to and from campus back to their hotel nearby. The girls were staying on campus, all paired up in dorms. Staying in dorm rooms was a hard pass for Holly and Marvyn, mostly Marvyn. Holly wouldn’t have minded staying in a room on campus but given the choice between sleeping on a hotel-quality, queen-sized mattress or a dorm-quality, twin-sized mattress, she’d pick hotel every time. Marvyn just flat out refused to sleep in a dorm. He loves hotels. Hell, he tried to live in one until his daughter moved in with him. People change his sheets and make the bed for him. There’s complimentary breakfast. What’s not to love about hotels?

Holly could not wait to get off the bus after those 2 hours. One thing about teenage girls is that they love to gossip. Holly witnesses it every day at school, but none of it really ever pertains to her. These girls usually just chat about boys and other girls, but Holly’s ears always perk up when she occasionally overhears the girls talking about their teachers to one another. It’s fun to hear what they think about her colleagues, but sometimes she fears she’s the subject of gossip amongst these girls when they are anywhere else in the school that isn’t Holly’s classroom.

That fear came true on that bus ride when she overheard the girls whispering at the back of the bus. The subject of those hushed words? Holly and Marvyn. It was a big bus, but not big enough. From the front of the bus, Holly could hear just about every word those girls whispered back and forth to one another in the back.

“Emma told me they go out for drinks and dinner all the time,” Destiny murmured to all of the girls leaning into the bus walkway.

“But isn’t she like his only friend?” Louise joked, getting some giggles from the other girls.

“I’m thinking they are a little more than just friends, if you know what I mean,” Samantha mumbled.

Mouse smacked her knee from the seat across from her. “Sam!” she gasped.

“What?” Samantha asked, “You don’t think those two could be hooking up?”

“I’d prefer not to think about that,” Mouse answered, hating the idea of her coaches doing it with each other.

“Guys, what if they are in the same hotel room for this camp?” Olive suggested, feeding into Samantha’s theory. “Maybe that’s why they didn’t want to stay in the dorms.”

Destiny let out a loud gasp at Olive’s suggestion and proceeded to be slapped and shushed by Louise for being too loud. They would all be dead if Holly could hear their conversation.

They had no clue that Holly could actually hear everything they were saying. And she was mortified. Her and Marvyn? What was it with these girls and starting rumors about who’s she’s dating? First, it was Felix, now it’s Marvyn. Sure, she goes out for drinks and dinner with Marvyn a lot. So what? Friends can go out for fun. Not only are they friends… they are colleagues. It’s always been strictly platonic and professional between them, and Holly plans on keeping it that way.

When they finally arrived at Westmont around 9PM, she helped the girls find their dorms and settle in while she waited for Marvyn to get there. Once he got there, Holly said goodnight to the girls and told them they need to get up for the scheduled team breakfast at 8AM in the main campus dining hall.

Marvyn didn’t even bother getting out of his car to say “hi” to the girls once he got there. He texted Holly telling her to walk out to his car, and to hurry up so they could get settled at the hotel.

Holly didn’t say a word during the 10 minutes it took to get to the hotel. Her face was still hot from overhearing the girls suggest that she and Marvyn were a thing. She could feel Marvyn’s curious gaze on her in the car, but she avoided his glances by staring out the window, thinking about a certain thing the girls unknowingly put into her head. Her stomach tightened as the thought of sleeping with Marvyn consumed her mind for the duration of the drive.

Holly started to second guess everything Marvyn did for her. When they got to the hotel, Marvyn rushed to open the door for Holly and get her suitcase out of the back seat. Is that what friends do? Is he just being nice? Holly asked herself, feeling like she was going a bit mad.

Walking up to the front desk, Marvyn greeted the receptionist. “Hi, I have two rooms booked under Korn.”

Holly watched as the woman behind the front desk punched keys on her keyboard. The receptionist started typing faster than before, almost frantic. Holly had no idea it was that hard to find a room reservation.

“Hmm,” the woman started, “I don’t see a reservation under that name. Could it be under a different name, perhaps?”

“Are you sure? Did you spell it right? It’s K-o-r-n. Korn,” Marvyn said, growing impatient. He just wanted to go to sleep. They had a busy few days coming up with the camp, and he needed to be well-rested if he was going to beat all of the other Southern California basketball teams at the camp.

“I’m afraid I don’t see a reservation for you, Mr. Korn.”

“Marvyn, don’t you have the confirmation in your email? You can pull that up on your phone,” Holly suggested, hating that they were causing the receptionist any trouble.

Marvyn pulled up the email confirmation on his phone and held it up to the clerk. “Here’s our confirmation number and reservation details. We have two queen-sized rooms. Three nights.”

The woman pulled the phone toward her, taking a closer look at the email. “Sir, I think there has been a mistake.”

“How could there be a mistake? The confirmation and details are right there,” he snapped, pointing at his phone. Holly elbowed him for snapping at the poor young woman.

“These reservations are for the Holiday Inn Express in Ventura. You’re at the Holiday Inn Express in Santa Barbara.

Holly looked at Marvyn in disbelief. Ventura was almost a half-hour away. She didn’t want to have to drive all the way there and have to commute 30 minutes to and from Westmont for 4 days.

“Well shit,” Marvyn muttered under his breath. This is why he doesn’t stay at anything less than 5-star hotels. This never would have happened if Holly just let him book two rooms at the Hotel Californian. But no, they were “too expensive and luxurious” for only staying 3 nights and spending most of their time at Westmont.

“Do you have two rooms available here?” Marvyn finally asked the woman.

“We’re pretty booked up. I’ll have to check what rooms we have available for 3 nights.”

“You better have some rooms because—”

Holly elbowed him again, sending him a glare that could kill. She turned to the clerk. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “We’re sorry to cause so much trouble.”

“Oh, you are no trouble at all. It happens more often than you would think, “ the receptionist said as she typed away on her keyboard. Her face sunk. “I’m sorry but all we have available for three nights is one room. It should have two queen beds, but I’ll have to double check—”

“We’ll take it,” Marvyn interjected. He didn’t want to be standing in that lobby any longer. And he certainly did not want to drive all the way to Ventura.

“Marvyn,” Holly turned to him concerned, “We can’t share a room.”

“Well, you can find a ride to Ventura because I’m sure as hell not driving all the way over there.”

This was exactly what she didn’t need right now. She could hardly look Marvyn in the eye after hearing the girls speculate about them being in a relationship. How could she share a room with him? Everything about this was just mortifying.

She sighed. “Fine. I guess it’s not that big a deal” She took one of the keys the woman set out in front of them.

Holly’s jaw dropped to the floor when Marvyn opened the door for her to walk into the room. She could not believe what she was seeing. Was there seriously only one goddamn bed? Just when she thought this couldn’t get any worse.

“Now you have to be fucking kidding me,” Marvyn said when he finally walked through the doorway, carrying both of their suitcases. “I thought she said it would be two queens.”

“Well, you did cut her off and take the room before she could double check,” Holly retorted, clearly annoyed. She walked further into the room, setting her purse down on the polka dot armchair. The room was fairly big and had a great view of Santa Barbara.

Marvyn followed her into the room, still dragging their luggage along. Holly could still hardly look at him, so she busied herself with looking around the room.

“Did you want the bathroom first?” Marvyn asked coolly, breaking the awkward silence that settled in the room.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I need to wash up after sitting on that old bus for 2 hours. I’ll be quick,” Holly said as she opened up her suitcase to grab her pajamas and toiletry bag. She practically ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

She set her bag and pajamas down on the counter and took a deep breath. How does he seem so unfazed by the giant bed-shaped elephant in the room? Holly thought as she stared at herself in the mirror. The fact that the receptionist “gave him the wrong information” seemed to affect him more than the fact that they were sharing a room and possibly sharing a bed. That is, if he doesn’t do the gentlemanly thing and offer to sleep on the floor or the chair. She sure as hell wasn’t sleeping anywhere besides that bed.

Holly was prepared to be in the comfort of her own room, so all she packed for nighttime attire was a pair of skimpy blue sleep shorts and a tank top. That would have been fine had things gone as planned and she had a room to herself, but Marvyn was going to be seeing a lot of leg, a lot more than would be considered appropriate. She shoved the thought out of her mind and got changed.

After she finished up washing her face and brushing her teeth, she knocked on the door. “Are you decent?” she called out from the bathroom.

“Yeah, you’re good to come out,” Marvyn responded. Holly took a deep, sobering breath as her hand hovered over the doorknob. She wished she could tell herself it’s just one night, but it’s three nights. He’ll take the chair or the floor, I’m sure, Holly tried to reassure herself.

When she finally mustered the courage to walk out into the main room, she’s stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing Marvyn. It took everything in her not to stare at him perched on the edge of the bed dressed in green boxers and a plain white undershirt that hugged his torso. She averted her gaze and quickly crossed her arms in front of her as she walked to her suitcase, a failed attempt to hide her hardening nipples. She wished she could blame it on the cold air in the room, but it’s really just from seeing Marvyn so… undressed. She hated the girls for putting the idea of them together in her mind. Yes, he’s a very attractive man, but she’s never thought about him in any sexual way. Now, it was nearly all she could think about, thanks to the girls. She was in deep shit.

And Marvyn was completely fucked. He hoped she didn’t notice him practically gawking at her when she came out of the bathroom, his eyes caught on the sight of her hardening nipples through her thin tank top. And those shorts. They were sinful is what they were. She was showing off more leg than he could handle. He was used to Holly wearing tight athletic clothing at practices and games. He knew she had a great body. But seeing her so bare made his mind run wild. He watched as she bent forward to put her clothes back into her suitcase. Her shorts were so damn small he could just barely see the black lace panties she was wearing underneath. He tore his eyes away. What the fuck is the matter with me? He scolded himself, thoroughly disturbed by his sudden sexual urges for his friend – his colleague. Now half hard, he finally excused himself to the bathroom.

I’m a man. I can’t help it, he repeated to himself over and over as he stared at his reflection. He couldn’t go back out there like that. The best he could do was will his erection away. There was no way he could discretely “take care” of it with Holly just several feet away.

He brushed his teeth and splashed his face with cold water, trying to distract himself from images of Holly’s legs and the swell of her breasts. As much as he wanted to sleep on that damn bed, getting in bed with her was no longer an option. He would have to offer to sleep on the chair or the floor.

Still half hard, he sucked in a breath before exiting the bathroom. He saw her sitting up on the right side of the bed reading a book. “I’ll sleep on the chair,” he announced.

“Are you sure?” Holly said out of courtesy.

“It’s either that or the floor. Which do you think I should choose?”

“Whatever will hurt your back less, old man,” Holly joked, the banter coming back to them both easily, temporarily distracting them from the sexual tension that’s built between them in just one night.

“Don’t make me share that bed with you,” he said with a cocky smirk.

“Sleep on the chair. Maybe you will snore less sitting up.”

“I don’t snore,” he countered, slightly offended by her assumption.

“Yeah right. Just sleep on the chair. Keep the snoring to a minimum.” She went back to reading her book. She silently cheered that he offered to let her have the bed to herself. After her inappropriate thoughts about him that night, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep her hands to herself if he hopped into bed with her.

He grabbed a pillow from the bed and tried to make himself comfortable in the big polka dot chair. “Am I good to turn off the lamp?” Holly asked once it seemed Marvyn got in a comfortable position.

“Yeah,” she heard him grunt as he shifted once more.

Close to 30 minutes went by of more shifting and grunting from the chair on the other side of the room. There was no falling asleep with how noisy he was being. She couldn’t tell if he was genuinely uncomfortable or if he was trying to get her to pity him and offer to switch places or let him sleep in the bed with her. “You good over there?” she whispered into the darkness of the room.

“Just fine,” he responded, feigning sincerity. It was probably the most uncomfortable chair he had ever sat in. It was lumpy and stiff, making noise with every move he made. Not to mention, his cock was still hard, his mind ridden with inappropriate and unprofessional thoughts of Holly

Holly hated what she was about to say next, knew she was probably going to regret it, want to take it back. But she really needed some good sleep tonight, so she went for it. “Just come sleep in the bed, Marvyn. You are driving me nuts with all your moving around.”

“You’re just trying to get in bed with me, aren’t you?” he teased, knowing that would push her buttons.

“Shut up, Marvyn. We’re both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird. Unless you would rather sleep on the floor?”

He didn’t even respond. He got up from the chair, holding his already sore back. God, am I really an old man? He said to himself silently, thinking about Holly’s joke from earlier.

“Just don’t hog the covers,” Holly said as she turned her back to him. She felt the mattress dip beside her, and a twinge of panic rose within her, her heart started to race. She hadn’t shared a bed with a man in a very long time. And it’s been even longer since she’s gotten laid. She shook the thought out of her head. She was absolutely not getting laid tonight. She was in a bed with Marvyn for Christ’s sake. He’s both a friend and a colleague. They couldn’t afford to ruin that. And did she really want to fuck the same man that Ms. Goodwin has? God, no.

Marvyn was wide awake. The twitch of his cock in his boxers was starting to get somewhat painful. He really shouldn’t be this goddamn horny; it had only been a couple months since he and Maggie were having sex. Granted, they only did so a few times. It took a lot longer than he expected to get past 2nd base with her. Something about “wanting to take it slow” and “doing it right”. Oh, he wanted to do it all right. Maggie was the first woman he’d been with since his ex-wife, and making the bald man cry each night wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped it would be. He wished he could fist himself right then and there, desperate to get rid of his uncomfortable and awkward hard on.

Holly also lay there wide awake, the silence too loud to even think about falling asleep. Desperate to get rid of the suffocating silence, she spoke, “This is so cliché, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Marvyn asked, genuinely unsure of what she was talking about.

“The whole two co-workers forced to share a bed thing. I thought this type of shit just happened in books to get the two main characters together,” she said matter-of-factly, not realizing until after she finished her sentence just how suggestive it was.

“Don’t get any ideas, Coach Barrett,”

“Oh, please. As if. Goodnight Marvyn.”

“Night,” she heard him whisper. Finally feeling relaxed, she dozed off to sleep to the sound of his breathing.

Marvyn woke just a few hours later, feeling pressure on his thigh. Dazed and confused, he looked up at the alarm clock next to his head, a green-lit 3:00 AM staring back at him. He turned back to see what was pressed up against his thigh. Lo and behold, Holly had thrown her leg over his thigh while they were sleeping. Pft, “as if” Marvyn silently mocked her words from earlier. His arm was trapped under her waist, ghosting over the swell of her ass. He instantly regretted lifting his other hand up to rest on her thigh, as he almost instantly got hard again.

They were hardly under the covers anymore, having kicked them off in their sleep. In the dimmed light coming from the streetlights outside, Marvyn could watch Holly as she slept. She really was a beautiful woman. He was surprised she hadn’t found anybody after her divorce. Any man would be lucky to have her. Not only was she incredibly good-humored and down-to-earth, but she also was just fucking sexy. He’d never really looked at her that way before that night, but it was hard not to when her breasts were practically falling out of her tank top and her shorts left next to nothing to the imagination.

He was abruptly shaken from his thoughts when he started to feel movement beside him. Not just any movement. No. The beautiful blonde woman beside him had started to rock her hips into his thigh. This can’t be happening. She has to be dreaming. I have to be dreaming right now Marvyn thought in a panic.

Her movements against the bare skin of his thigh grew faster, and she let out a soft moan, almost too quiet to hear. He started to feel how wet she was through her shorts. Marvyn’s heart was about to beat out of his chest, as he felt his cock twitch for what seemed like the millionth time that night, just aching to be touched. He had no clue what to do. Was he supposed to wake her up? Let her unconsciously get off on his thigh? There was no right way to go about it.

Holly slowly slipped into consciousness. She assumed the dream she was having must have been great based on how wet she was, slowly rocking against the thigh pressed firmly between her legs. It felt too good to stop. She tilted her hips back, seeking more friction against her clit. She sighed at the sensation. She became aware of the hands splayed on her lower back and on her thigh. The hardness pressed against her inner thigh then caught her attention.

Holy fuck! She thought frantically, suddenly remembering she went to sleep next to Marvyn last night. Before the panic set in, she felt the hand on her back move lower, resting firmly on her ass, which was only half covered by her sleep shorts. She nearly gasped when the hips underneath her began to rock into her thigh. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder as she continues her movements.

They both knew the other was awake, but they didn’t say a word, and they didn’t stop; they just kept grinding, getting each other off. Marvyn squeezed the swell of her ass through her shorts, his hand strong and firm against the silky fabric of her shorts and her soft skin. His fingers moved towards the edge of her shorts, daring to go further. She began rocking into him a bit harder, which he took as permission to go further, letting his fingers slip beneath the fabric of her shorts and run across the smoothness of her skin. His thumb brushed the lacy fabric of the black thong he got a sneak peek of earlier. He slid his other hand up her thigh to palm her other cheek, starting to guide her movements into him.

They stayed like that, grinding into one another for a good few minutes until Marvyn grew impatient, he had to touch her, feel her. He slowly moved his hand down her thigh, stopping at her knee which rested on his waist. Lifting her knee off of him, he encouraged her to spread her legs for him. Sliding his hand down her inner thigh, he turned his head to whisper in her ear. “Is this okay?” he asked, not wanting to push.

“Fuck, yes. Please,” she begged with a whisper. Just fucking touch me already! she wanted to yell at him.

He slid his hand past the waistband of her shorts, lifting up her tank top to rub the taut skin across her stomach, finally resting his hand on her breast, thumbing her rock-hard nipple. He was driving her insane. She lifted her hips, a silent beg for him to touch her where she needed it most. He took the hint, trailing his hand back down her stomach, tight and coiled with anticipation. His movements became hesitant, worried about taking things too far, ruining their relationship as they knew it.

She felt his hand stop just above the waistband of her shorts. She wondered if he was unsure about touching her or just being a tease. Hoping it was the latter, she lifted her head up to whisper in his ear, “Don’t be such a tease.”

“Are you sure about his?” he asked innocently.

Hearing the nerves in his voice, she reached her hand up to rest on his, squeezing his hand to assure him how much she wanted this, how much she needed this. She guided his hand below her waistband. His hand ghosted her core through the fabric of her panties. She slid her hand up his arm to feel his biceps. He had great arms. She ached to see if his chest was just as toned and firm as his arms.

He could feel the heat of her through the thin lace fabric covering her core. Judging by how wet she was already, Holly clearly wanted this just as much as he did. The soft sighs in his ear egging him on. A rush of confidence coursed through him, realizing just how much of an effect he had on her by barely touching her. Hell, she was gasping and grinding on him in her sleep. Which could easily be from having not gotten laid in a while, but Marvyn would rather think it was because of him entirely.

He always prided himself on being particularly good at sex. He got a lot of practice in college; girls practically threw themselves at him. And he and Caren had a pretty fun and adventurous sex life for most of their marriage. He knew his way around a woman’s body: how it worked, how it reacted, how to manipulate it. And in that moment with Holly, he wanted to cherish every inch of her body, to pay attention to each subtle detail of her enjoyment…for hours.

It surprised him. This sudden sexual desire for his colleague – his assistant coach, technically his subordinate. They did do everything couples do, besides sex of course (until now). They went out to dinner, got drinks together. They trusted and respected each other, wanted the best for the other. If he had this close of a connection with any other woman, Marvyn was sure he would develop feelings for her. But this was Holly. They worked together. They were friends, yes, but their relationship was professional and strictly platonic. Whatever mentor/mentee, co-worker relationship and friendship they had was a whole lot more interesting for the both of them than some dating scenario. He always figured a crude, yet expert sexual encounter would ruin what they had together. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He wanted her. All of her.

His earlier hesitation quickly disappeared. He swiftly dipped his fingers beneath the lace of her underwear, ghosting his fingers over her wet center, teasing her. Her breath grew jagged with anticipation. His touch was a mere whisper on her skin, but it made her thighs tremble. There was no holding in the gasp that escaped her when he swiped through her slick with his deft fingers. He found her clit with his middle finger, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles, eliciting a breathy moan from her.

The position they were in wasn’t exactly comfortable, at least not for Marvyn. His right arm was still being crushed under her, and him lying on his back beside her wasn’t the most ideal if he wanted to give her the best finger-fuck of her life.

She was pleased when he moved to hover over her, basking under the weight of him above her. He was so much bigger than her. He was practically engulfing her.

“I want to see you,” he whispered, reaching to turn on one of the bedside lamps. It illuminated the room just right, not too bright, not too dark, just light enough to tear away the shadows on her cheeks and restore the glimmer in her bright blue eyes.

His right hand, still half-asleep from being under her for so long, moved to hold down her hip, keeping her still. She could already feel the bruises forming from how tight he was gripping her. The thought of him leaving a mark on her sent shockwaves of excitement through her.

He slid his other hand out from her sleep shorts, moving once more to set up on his knees. He brought his hand to Holly’s mouth, still wet with her slick.

“Open,” he directed, pressing his fingers against her lips. She obeyed, opening her mouth, and sucking on his fingers covered with her own arousal. She flicked her tongue against his knuckles, tasting herself, faintly, and feeling the roughness of his skin. He groaned and dragged his hand down to rest on her neck. No pressure. No real grasp or hold. But it stole her breath just the same.

He hadn’t even kissed her yet, something about that step feeling far too intimate. Somehow kissing her would be too far for Marvyn but rubbing her clit and letting her suck on his fingers isn’t too intimate.

Eager to feel his lips on her, Holly moved from fisting the bedsheets to fisting Marvyn’s t-shirt, pulling him down toward her. He kissed her then. It was heated, passionate, intimate. His hand still rested on her neck, his other gripping her hip, pushing her into the mattress. His tongue prodded at the seam of her lips, eager to explore her mouth.

That kiss may have been the best she’d ever had. She ran her fingers through his hair, using her grip to pull him closer to her, deepening the kiss. She lifted her hips up into him, searching for the friction her clit was craving. Her movements matched perfectly with Marvyn as he shifted his hips into hers. He was wedged between her legs, hot and hard, exactly where she wanted him. He'd be able to thrust into her right now if they weren't wearing clothes. Why the fuck are we still dressed? Holly screamed silently in her head.

The heat of his body on top of her was electrifying. She fisted his t-shirt sleeves in an attempt to keep him there, addicted to the feeling of being trapped underneath him.

His lips traveled down her jaw. He tilted her head to the side, giving him access to kiss her throat. She melted under him, a loud whimper escaping her. His mouth left a trail of hot, wet kisses down her throat, across her shoulder, and along her collarbone. Being kissed had never felt so perfect, so hot.

“You won’t be needing this,” he said, lifting her top over her head and throwing it somewhere off the bed. She loved seeing him take control like this. Outside of the bedroom was a different story. She hated when he belittled her, undermined her, told her what to do. It was infuriating. But in the bedroom, under his touch, she’d do nearly anything he asked of her.

He took hold of one of her now bare breasts, the textured skin of his thumb circling her nipple made her shudder. He lowered his head to give her other breast some attention, taking her nipple in his mouth. Her hands flew to the back of his head, holding him against her, never wanting him to stop.

“Marvyn,” she sighed. It was the first word she had spoken in nearly 10 minutes.

He continued in his path down her body, kissing down the taut lines of her stomach, setting tiny little fires across her body.

“You won’t be needing these either,” he repeated, tugging her sleep shorts and panties down her incredible legs. He couldn’t wait to be between her perfect thighs, tasting her, exploring her.

“Please,” she whimpered, guiding his head down where she wanted him most.

“Patience, Coach,” he teased. She felt him smile against her inner thigh as he kissed her there. She changed her mind. He was infuriating in bed too. Such a fucking tease.

Without warning, he licked her bottom to top, stopping at her clit to suck on it, humming into her, making her jolt as if she’d been shocked.

“Fuck!” She bucked her hips into his face. He grasped her inner thighs, pushing her in the mattress, holding her still, and spreading her further apart for him. He slid his tongue between her folds, tasting her wetness, before he found her clit again, locking his mouth around it, sucking hard. Her body almost caught on fire when he slid two fingers into her, pumping into her slowly. She had never been eaten out like this before. She had no idea it could feel this fucking good. Her ex-husband would do the bare minimum, never really caring if she got off or not. He didn’t explore her like this. He didn’t take his time with her the way Marvyn was, learning what she liked, noting every move that made her squirm and moan. She was sure Marvyn had to have watched some sort of online how-to video or something because there was just no way this man could use his tongue and his mouth so skillfully. He devoured her cunt like it was his birthright, as if he'd been programmed to put his mouth precisely here and there and lick her till she screamed. And he was clearly enjoying it too. He was moaning for fucks sake.

His name fell from her lips once more as she lifted her hips to the rhythm of his licks, seeking release. “Patience,” he repeated himself. He slid his fingers out of her, replacing them with his tongue. He felt the suck of her cunt on his tongue as he fucked her with it, imagining how incredible it would feel around his cock, which was still strained against the fabric of his boxers, leaking and painfully hard. But this wasn’t about him. At least not then. He wanted to make her cum, feel her release around his tongue and taste her before he fucked her.

“Okay, Holly,” he breathed against her, “You can let go now.” He dove back into her, placing his thumb over her clit and rubbing concentrated circles. He lapped at her folds and brought his other hand down to finger her.

“Marvyn!” she cried out desperately. The stimulation was almost too much. The pleasure was intense, earth-shatteringly so. It consumed her entire body from head to toe. Heaven and torture at the exact same time.

“I know. I know. Just let go for me,” he encouraged. She whined when he pushed another finger into her and curled it, reaching for the spot inside her that he knew would send her over the edge. He continued sucking and flicking at her clit, showing no mercy as he tore her apart, fucking her with his hand and mouth until she was screaming his name and banging her thighs against his ears. Her desperate screams did nothing to halt his movements as he guided her through her orgasm before pulling his fingers out and snaking his tongue into her, tasting her release.

He came up for air, finding her breathing heavy, eyes closed, with her head thrown back into the pillows. When she managed to catch her breath and regain a semblance of lucidity, she lifted her head to watch him begin a trail of wet kisses down her inner thigh. It was obscene. The sight of him between her legs, his chin dripping with her arousal. When he caught her gaze, he couldn’t help the smug smirk that graced his lips, satisfied with the sight of her almost completely wrecked without even fucking her yet.

He rose above her again to slot his mouth against hers. She let his tongue enter her mouth immediately, sucking her taste off of it. He trailed kisses across her cheek to her ear, sucking and nibbling on it for a short moment. “I want to feel you on my cock.”

“What the hell are you waiting for?” she asked breathlessly. He lifted himself off the bed, and she whimpered at the loss of his weight on top of her.

He was still far too overdressed, so he pulled his shirt up over his head. She lifted herself up on her elbows, getting a better look at the show he was putting on before her.

His cock still ached inside his boxers, heavy and hard, desperate to be inside her. When he finally set it free from its confines, it sprung straight up. She gasped at the sight of it, a flicker of nervousness flashed across her face. She had figured he’d be pretty well-endowed. He’s Marvyn Korn. Always bigger and better than everyone. But it was intimidating. She hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, and none of the toys she used at home did justice to the size of him.

“Protection…?” he said suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“I’m on the pill. I’m clean. Do you have a condom?”

He nodded and turned to walk toward his suitcase, giving Holly a nice view of his perfectly tight ass. He pulled out his wallet, fishing for the single condom he left in there from when he was dating Maggie.

“What are you? 17? Keeping a condom in your wallet?” she laughed.

“Ha. Ha,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at her. He took his time opening the foil package and sliding the condom down his impressive length.

“You better hurry up. You should never keep a lady waiting.” When he looked up at her, he saw her leaning back against the pillows, legs spread, touching herself. Marvyn nearly came in his boxers at the sight of her rubbing her own cunt, still swollen and wet. She was fucking beautiful.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” he asked, crawling back onto the bed. Her fingers continued to move in practiced circles around her clit.

“I didn’t realize I needed your permission,” she challenged boldly, lifting her head slightly to look him in the eye. The look of lust and anticipation in her eyes went straight to his cock. He stroked himself through the latex barrier of the condom as he knelt between her thighs, trying to give himself some relief.

Her movements came to a halt. He watched her in awe as she brought her own fingers up to her mouth, licking them clean, humming a soft moan at the taste of herself.

“God, you’re filthy,” he commented. He rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit.

She’d had enough of the teasing, enough of the waiting. She wanted him inside her so fucking badly. “Just fuck me already,” she pleaded, reaching up to run her hands down his hairy chest and abs, confirming they were just as perfect as his arms.

“Filthy and eager,” he noted aloud.

“Marvyn, I swear to God—” He thrust into her without warning, and she cried out his name. Holding still inside her, he let her adjust to the size of him. The way she felt around him was unreal. She was hot, wet, and so fucking tight. He moaned as he felt her cunt squeeze his cock as she willed her body to accustom his size.

He leaned down on top of her, smothering her body with his own. “Fuck,” he groaned in her ear, “You feel so fucking good, Holly.” He sucked lightly at the skin on her neck, tasting it’s the sweat that started to bead up there.

“Christ,” she groaned, throwing her head back, clinging to his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin from her nails, “So fucking… so big… so good,” she panted out incoherently as he increased the pace of his hips.

“You like getting fucked like this?” he grumbled in her ear, bringing his right hand to rest on her throat, not applying pressure, but making it known he could if he wanted to.

“Yes,” she managed, almost too quiet for Marvyn to hear.

“I like you like this. Taking my cock. Not putting up a fight,” he voiced lowly, biting at her ear.

She loved the dirty talk, but she hated how much his words turned her on. She lived to put up a fight, never one to accept being demeaned by someone else, especially a man. But having Marvyn so big and strong and sexy on top of her, dominating her, it was incredible, something she could only dream of.

She whined when he pulled out of her. He flipped her onto her stomach, gripped her hips, sure to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips. Her arms were splayed in front of her, and her cheek pressed against the hotel bed sheets as he dragged her hips up to meet him. He positioned himself at her entrance, pushing her legs apart so she was wide open for him. He slammed into her. The sound of his low groans and slapping of skin on skin was so obscene it nearly forced her them both to come undone.

“Marvyn,” she breathed. He just barely heard her.

He fisted her hair, pulling back just hard enough so that she was looking back over her shoulder at him. “That’s it,” he praised, “I love the sound of my name on your lips. I love hearing you lose it for me.”

“God, Marvyn,” she gasped in between moans, loving the verbal praise, wanting more.

“You take me so well,” he grunted, “Like you were made for me, for my cock.” The words rolled out of his mouth before he could even register what he was saying. But he watched and took note of the way a smile crept to her lips and the way her walls clenched around his cock with each word – she got off on it. This new discovery egged him on. He pulled her body up against him, holding her to him by the base of her throat. “Fuck, Holly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to ever stop fucking you,” he growled in her ear.

“Then don’t,” she panted matter-of-factly. Her answer surprised him. He wasn’t expecting her to even respond to him with anything besides a moan. The implications of her response made his head spin. Did she want to do this again? He thought to himself hopefully.

Her head fell back on his shoulder. She brought her hands up to grope her breasts, tweak each nipple between her fingers. “I need you to touch me,” she begged.

“Ask. Nicely,” he growled, punctuation each word with a thrust into her swollen cunt.

“Marvyn,” she let out a sigh so sexy it would put a fucking pornstar out of business, ”Please touch me. I’m so close.” She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a familiar coil tighten in her stomach.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, Marvyn, for fuck’s sake, touch me. Please. Let me cum all over you.” She was desperate for release.

Satisfied with her desperate pleas, he released his hand from her throat, moving it down to rub circles over her clit. When her legs began to shake, Marvyn fucked into her with a new urgency.

She cried out, screaming his name, her orgasm ripping through her with an intensity she had never experienced before. Her body went limp, relying on him to hold her up against him. His hand was still rubbing her clit as he fucked into her sensitive, overstimulated cunt. She hissed, pushing his hand away, the electric shocks pulsing through her body were just too fucking much.

“Come on, Marvyn,” she encouraged with what little energy she had left. “You fill me up so good. Please cum for me.” As dominant as he was with her, he got off on the praise too, his hips slamming into her harder and sloppier, chasing his own orgasm.

“God, Holly. The things… fuck…you do to me.” He was so gone, the feeling of his impending release leaving his brain fried.

“Show me, Marvyn,” she whispered huskily, “Please. For me.”

His head fell back, biting his lip to fight the loud groan that wanted to escape him. He paused deep inside her as he climaxed. He nearly blacked out; the force of his orgasm stronger than he’s had in a very long time.

He held onto the condom as he slowly pulled out of her. He got up from the bed, his legs unsteady, and walked to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He eyed the clean washcloths on the bathroom counter as he was walking out, grabbing one and wetting it a little in case Holly needed it to wipe herself off. Ever the gentleman.

But when he walked back into the room, he found Holly already fast asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he left the small towel on her bedside table. Before turning off the lamp, he took a moment to study her face, blissful, beautiful, and glowing. After turning off the light, he climbed into bed next to her. He kissed her temple before turning on his side to let sleep claim him.

When they both woke to their alarms a few hours later, things were…somewhat awkward between them. They danced around each other as they got ready for their day of camp with the girls, neither of them wanting to have that conversation, wanting instead to pretend that what happened was just some crazy sex dream for the both of them in order to avoid dealing with how it changed their relationship, their partnership, their friendship.

Holly looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, traced her fingers along the bruises he left on her hips and her neck. Dear God, he left fucking hickeys on her neck. She covered what she could with what little makeup she had brought on this trip. The girls won’t even notice, she thought wishfully.

They did in fact notice. Not only did they notice the poorly covered-up marks on her neck, but they also noticed the slight limp in her walk when she arrived to the camp with Marvyn.

“Looks like you guys owe me 10 bucks,” Samantha bragged to the other starters sitting at the table for breakfast.

“How do you even know they did it?” Louise questioned.

“Well, she did do a pretty terrible job at hiding those bruises on her neck,” Destiny commented.

“Wait, he left bruises on her?!” Mouse said a little too loudly, genuinely concerned.

The entire table shushed her.

“They’re hickeys, Mouse. Duh,” Samantha said. “Those two definitely got together.”

“She is kinda limping a bit, not gonna lie,” Destiny observed with a laugh. Louise shushed her, slapping her on the shoulder.

“I kind of hope you’re right, Sam,” Olive chimed in, “It’s kind of cute, like right out of a movie. Coach and assistant coach fall in love…”

“Bang in a hotel room while away at team camp,” Destiny continued, met with another hit on the shoulder from Louise.

“Guys, look,” Samantha whispered urgently, nodding her head towards the breakfast buffet.

The girls all zipped their heads around to see what Samantha was pointing at. They watched as Holly and Marvyn stepped through the buffet line together, side by side, with Marvyn’s hand resting on Holly’s lower back.

“How much more proof do you need?” Samantha asked. “Pay up!”

#CAN U PPL PLEASE WATCH THIS SHOW ALREADY #if no one's gonna write harvyn smut #THEN I FUCKING WILL #STREAM BIG SHOT NOW ON DISNEY+#THANK YOU #pitbull lyric for the title as i should #big shot on disney+#big shot series #disney+#harvyn #holly barrett #marvyn korn #harvyn fanfiction #harvyn fic #holly and marvyn #my fics #my gifs

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walviemort · 3 years

Text

Fairy Godfather, part 3

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! Thank you to @sancocnutclub for her continued encouragement...which will be very apparent in part 4 ;)

rated T / 2.4k words / part 1 / part 2 / AO3

Though he had just passed the first trimester mark in this oversized pregnancy, Killian was pleased to find he was not lacking in the energy department. Granted, his first pregnancy had been similar—he’d had the most energy during the second trimester, despite the increasing size of his belly.

But his belly was a fraction of the size back then. Now, at 13 weeks, it was much closer to the size he’d been at 35 weeks with Hope. But he had yet to slow down—as evidenced by his and Emma’s morning activities; he was even on top.

There was no denying his present form was bulky, but he’d been too fatigued at this size with Hope to do much but sleep and eat. That was not a problem now, and both he and Emma were reaping the benefits. Reaching orgasm while she was caressing his bump? It was impossible to describe how amazing that felt.

However, he’d hardly finished when Hope began to cry out from her nursery. As much as he was still feeling good, moving did take a bit more effort than it had. This bump also weighed as much as his last one, and was only going to get heavier; at least it hadn’t dropped yet. But it meant that Emma was still quicker to her feet than he was, and sprang up to retrieve their 13 month old before she tried to climb out of her crib on her own.

Hope finally figured out walking a month or so ago—just in time for her first birthday—and he was well aware of the comical sight he’d made at her party, chasing after her with his protruding stomach. But at least he still could, even if he got winded more quickly than he’d like.

Tink had been snickering at him during one such moment. “Hey,” he chastised and patted the bump. “Your kid is in here, so I’d watch the mocking when it comes to running after mine.”

“That’s fair,” she’d conceded. “Just let me know when you need help, though—I’ll gladly go after the little hellion.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

They hadn’t needed her help yet, but it was only a matter of time—especially by the sound of tiny but insistent footsteps that were getting faster every day as they ran down the hallway.

“Dada!” her little voice called out as she charged into the room and threw herself against his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“How’s my little cygnet today?” he enthusiastically replied as he bent down to pick her up. He had to open his legs to make room for the bump, but it was still an achievable feat, and Hope giggled as she flew into the air and the curled in as he carefully tucked her into his side.

After a brief cuddle, she squirmed for him to set her down on the mattress, and gave his bump a gentle pat. “Hi babies,” she said (or tried to; some of those sounds were still being worked on). She’d noticed the bump a few weeks ago, once it had really started popping out. They couldn’t tell if she actually understood what was going on—and were glad she was young enough to not have to explain it—but she was at least careful and affectionate.

He just hoped that continued as she grew steadier on her feet—and he grew larger and less so.

Hope tucked herself back into Killian’s side and Emma sat down on the other. “This is a pretty perfect morning,” she sighed as she laid her head in his bare shoulder. “Do I really have to go into work?”

“I’m of the same opinion—but wasn’t Tiger Lily coming for training today?” She was the fairy who’d offered to take over his deputy duties once he no longer could—and he had a hunch she'd be an acceptable long-term hire.

“Yeah,” she complained. “Just wish it could wait another day.”

“Or,” he suggested, “we get through today and then we can spend tomorrow in a similar manner.”

“I like the way you think,” she replied, then pulled him in for a kiss.

He set Hope down on the bed, where she proceeded to tackle the pillows, and went about the process of getting dressed. His sleep pants still fit, although they were reaching the point where they were almost too snug on his hips, which had definitely widened more than last time.

Thankfully, his maternity jeans were as stretchy as ever, and he hadn’t yet exceeded their capacity; the elastic panel hugged his belly comfortably as he slipped them on.

Emma had bought him a collection of soft, short-sleeved t-shirts a size larger than he typically wore, and one of those slipped on easily, but the bump still stood prominently under navy cotton. Hopefully, they made these in several larger sizes.

They stopped at Granny’s before heading to their respective workplaces for the day, and Killian consumed a larger stack of pancakes than he’d like to admit; good thing Belle took his measurements yesterday. At least there was also a generous side of fresh fruit.

When he and Hope arrived at the library, he was only semi-surprised to see Blue there; she seemed to be showing up once a month or so to check in, but today had another goal.

“Would you be okay with getting an ultrasound?” she asked.

That was shocking. “Sure,” he said, “but will it be okay for them?” he countered, rubbing his belly. Inside, they seemed to be fluttering nervously.

“If it’s fine for a human baby, it should be for them. It’s just—I see all these thorough notes and comparisons, and I’m curious what that would reveal.”

“Whale says he has an opening,” Belle added, phone in hand. “Shall we?”

They did, and headed out en masse to make the short walk to the hospital. At least, it should have been short, but Hope insisted on walking on her own and Killian’s pace wasn’t as fast as it normally was.

Whale met them in the waiting room when they arrived, though, an eager look on his face. “Wondered if I'd see you this time around,” he greeted. “I’ve gotta say—I’m pretty curious about this.”

“Aren’t we all,” Killian answered dryly, bracing his hook against his lower back.

“Come on; let’s take a peek in there,” Whale beckoned, and led them to an exam room.

Killian passed Hope off to Blue and began the process of climbing up on the exam table; again—he was doing fine on the energy front, but a large bump was a large bump, and it not only was an obstacle to his mobility, but he was carrying around some weight he hadn’t been 13 weeks ago (and in more places than just the bump).

But he managed to get up there and lifted up his shirt without prompting; he knew the drill. During his seemingly arduous climb, Whale had been looking over Belle’s notes from both pregnancies. “Damn,” he commented. “I think your notes are more detailed than my charts.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Killian called out; Whale just chuckled and moved to ready the ultrasound machine while Belle rolled her eyes and readied her pen.

Killian had forgotten how cold the gel was, but he got over it quickly as Whale began to move the probe over his (thankfully stretch mark-free) stomach.

“Well I’ve never seen that before,” Whale said after a bit, and everyone focused on the screen.

“I thought those were only in black and white?” Belle asked.

“They are,” Whale confirmed.

And yet, as the tiny images of multiple babies appeared on the screen, each one was showing up in a different color—the color of the orbs they started as. Tink’s green stood out front and center, but as Whale moved the probe over the dome that was Killian’s abdomen, all the other colors showed up, except—

“Where’s mine?” Blue asked, understandably worried.

“Hmm,” Whale hummed, investigating. “One, two,” he started counting, finding 8 that were easily visible. “But it looks like…” He pressed harder on Killian’s belly, to the point of discomfort, but he didn’t complain—not when Blue looked so worried.

“Yeah, there’s definitely one hiding in there,” Whale said. “I just can’t zero in. There’s some color bleeding through, though…”

And in between a pink-hued and navy-hued fetus, a bit of bright blue was visible. Blue sighed in relief. “Yeah, she’s just being stubborn,” Whale assured her. “You can probably blame it on Hook.”

“Hey!” he protested, but Belle’s snicker suggested she agreed.

“Anyways—from a development standpoint, yeah, I’d put you right at 13 weeks, although probably half the size. Were it a normal pregnancy, I’d guess you’d only go to 30 weeks or so, for safety—but I’m guessing that won’t be the case here?”

“No,” Blue said. “He’ll go all the way to full term.”

Whale whistled. “Thank goodness they’re small then.”

Several copies of the sonogram were printed off—as mysteriously colorful as they were on screen—with Killian taking one, another going in Belle’s notebook, and the rest going with Blue. There was some discussion of doing another ultrasound at the second trimester, but it was ultimately deemed unnecessary.

Whale bid them adieu but they lingered in the room, if only because it took Killian a bit to clean off the gel (he hated the way it got caught in the bit of hair on his stomach). Belle was wrangling the kids, but Blue was staring at the pictures, almost in awe.

“You were worried, weren’t you?” Killian asked softly. “That she wasn’t there.”

“Yes,” Blue admitted. “It’s rare, but sometimes, they don’t all take. And I’ve just—I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I understand.” It had taken him and Emma quite some time to conceive Hope, and obviously they required assistance.

“I guess I’ll just have to be patient,” she sighed.

“Aye,” he agreed. “But—” He placed his hand on the top of his bump and furrowed his brow in concentration. “I’m almost positive she’s kicking my bladder at the moment.”

It drew the polite chuckle he was going for, but also meant he needed to excuse himself. Blue also took that moment to take her leave, but not without an emphatic thank-you.

He had to admit, as he shuffled off to the bathroom—he’d definitely been resentful of this arrangement to an extent. But seeing Blue’s genuine emotions there at the prospect of parenthood made that feeling dissipate.

He was sure he’d have a mountain of complaints by the end of this, but being able to grant so many others the joys he’d found as a parent—that would be worth it.

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At 16 weeks, he hit the same measurements he had when he was at full term with Hope (literally those of the day before he’d gone into labor). But the bump still sat high on his frame. “I wonder if whatever magic is preventing stretch marks is also holding it aloft,” he quipped as he traced the curve of his belly.

“It’s entirely possible,” Belle concurred. “Look at the difference.” In addition to measured data, she also had photographic documentation of his various milestones in both pregnancies; comparing the picture she’d just taken on her phone to the one from right before Hope entered the world, it was plain to see the similarities in how much they extended in front of him, but the difference in where it sat on his body.

“We’ll see how long it lasts, though.”

In answer to his theory, he got another few weeks before things began to sit lower, though his stomach continued it’s outward expansion—a couple centimeters every week. But by his 17th week, he finally started feeling the pull of gravity and had to dig out the belly band he’d relied on the last month or so with Hope.

But he soon noticed another issue. While he remembered what it was like to not be able to see his feet, and had gotten used to the obstacle about his midsection, he wasn’t prepared for it to stick out even more.

Case in point: one morning during his 18th week, when he was attempting to surprise Emma with breakfast (usually she rose first, but a flurry of activity in his belly had woken him early). However, he was a bit farther from the stove than he was used to, as well as the cabinets, and he kept knocking into the chairs around the table; Hope was watching him from her own high chair in amusement, far more interested in his slapstick endeavor than her cereal.

“What’s going on?” Emma’s sleepy voice asked after he cursed at nearly burning his belly on the oven.

“Nothing,” he huffed, rubbing the spot on his bump that was just a bit too warm. “Just a failed attempt at treating my amazing wife.”

She glanced around, then smiled. “You were trying to make me breakfast but then your belly got in the way?”

“Aye,” he sighed.

She walked over to him and pulled him into a hug—from the side, since she already couldn’t get close enough from the front—and turned his face towards her to kiss him. “You’re too sweet,” she said, tucking herself into his side. “And you treated me plenty last night,” she added in a low voice; he swallowed at the memory of their shared moment—probably one of the last times he’d be able to make love on top for a while, unless they got creative with the logistics, but dammit, he did it, and it was amazing.

“I can finish this up; take a seat, okay?”

“I should be able to do this, though,” he complained.

“And you will—in 5 months or so. But I told you I’d support you with this, so let me.”

He sighed again, but complied, and ignored the creak of his chair as he sat down (angled away from the table—he was also up a size in shirts, but his jeans were holding on…for now). “How did the gods see fit to bless this poor bastard with such an amazing woman?” he asked, watching the blush rise on her cheeks.

“The same way they did for this lost girl,” she countered, then put a (heaping) plate in front of him.

“I love you so much, Swan—thank you.”

She placed another kiss on his lips. “I love you too—always.”

Even if this wasn’t an ideal situation, he knew that he was blessed to have Emma at his side; he wouldn’t be able to get through this without her.

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

thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @88infinity88 (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian mpreg #FAIRY GODFATHER #My ff

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joontopia · 3 years

Text

Summer in December | KTH

pairing: kim taehyung x reader ↳ hufflepuff!taehyung x slytherin!reader

rating: nsfw, 18+

genre: hogwarts!au, friends to lovers!au, fluff

warnings: mild angst (?), reader is a little whiny about the weather (im so sorry idk why i did that), mentions of alcohol consumption, some cute hand holding, sweet kisses

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my secret santa gift to the lovely @sly-merlin for @kafenetwork Holiday Treat event! I hope you enjoy this! It’s been so fun getting to know you the past weeks! ♥️🐧 penguin

Also, thank you to my lovely soul-twin-mate @escapingreality4now for reading over this and editing it for me. you the bestest and i love you so much *smoochies*. And thank you to @kimtaehyunq for helping me fix my banner issue last minute, i appreciate you and love you!

Rain. That is what has been falling from the grey, cloudy sky for the last three days. Cold, pelting droplets of evaporated water are what you have shared your days with during this cold winter. Not the beautiful, white fluff that was promised in the forecast. Not the very weather that you stayed at school for over winter break instead of going somewhere summer-y with your family. No, that would just have been too perfect. Sitting at your table at the Three Broomsticks, you let out a sigh as you stare out the window, elbow perched on the table as your chin rests in your hand. It was nearly four in the afternoon, though you couldn’t tell by the vacancy left from the sun in the sky hidden behind darkened storm clouds. When you agreed to stay as one of the prefects on duty, you were hoping it would come with days spent playing in the snow. Building snow people, and having the occasional snowball fight. Not trudging through mud puddles and slipping on hidden ice patches. You nearly slip into another day dream when you’re interrupted by the barmaid approaching your table.

“What’ll it be, dear?” The barmaid asks, a bright smile painted across her face despite the dreary atmosphere set by the disappointing weather.

“Oh um, two butterbeers, please,” you order as you sit up in your seat, trying your best to return a cheery smile as bright as hers. She lifts her brow at you with twinkling curiosity and a hint of laughter in her eyes.

“Terms that bad this year?” She asks with a teasing smile.

You giggle, appreciating the light lift of the mood as you join in on the jest, “No, just the temperament of the weather.” You both let out a soft chuckle, your smile matching hers slightly more realistically with the slight change in mood. “I’m actually meeting someone, they should be here soon. They’re not both for me.” As if on cue, you both turn to the entrance at the bell chime of the door, signaling a new customer. Standing there was your friend and fellow Slytherin prefect, Ohria, searching the bar for where you sat. Once she spots you in the corner by the window, she waves and smiles, walking toward you with her cheeks rosy pink from the cold outside.

“No judgement here, dear. Just poking fun. I’ll have those right out for you two,” the barmaid says as she turns back to you. She gives you a light pat on your shoulder and a wink before walking back towards the bar, nodding her head in greeting to Ohria as she makes it to the table, sitting in the vacant seat across from you. You sit back in your chair, smiling at your friend as she starts removing her scarf in coat.

“Sorry, I’m late! Had to make sure Joonie had everything he needed for the next two weeks packed and ready to go. For how smart that man is, he sure can be forgetful,” Ohria rolls her eyes in feign annoyance, the shy smile and blush of her cheeks giving away her true feelings of adoration for her boyfriend. “He’s meeting me here when he’s done if that’s okay. We’ll be leaving in the next hour or so.”

“No worries, it’s fine. I can’t believe you’re going to be visiting Korea. Leaving me here with the sleet and rain while you get to go build your snow creations of your future children with Namjoon.” Your bottom lip pushes out in a pout just a little as Ohria sticks her tongue out at you. You were happy for her, really. At least one of you will get to enjoy some snowy fun during the holiday break.

“Oh come on, cheer up. I’ll be back before you know it and so will the snow. Besides, Joonie told me a certain Hufflepuff prefect is staying during the break as well. Maybe that can preoccupy your time before I get back, hmm?” Ohria teases you as she wriggles her eyebrows.

You feel your cheeks warm, knowing the exact Hufflepuff prefect she was referring to. A one very handsome and tall Kim Taehyung, your classmate and longtime crush. You spent the better half of this school year innocently flirting with one another, enough to make you wonder if he felt and cared for you the same way you do him. You smile as you look away from Ohria, watching as the barmaid approaches with your drinks, placing them in front of you. You thank her before turning and continuing your conversation with, “As wonderful as that would be, I highly doubt Taehyung would want to spend the majority of his winter break with me.”

“Oh, please. He practically can’t keep his eyes off of you when you’re near each other. The both of you really. Just ask him. Besides, what else would there be for the two of you to do here but hangout with each other?” Ohria says before taking a drink, her last words more of statement rather than a question.

You let out a little sigh, knowing there was no sense in arguing her point. You grab your drink, taking a sip as you ponder her words for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. But how do you suggest I even ask him? I wouldn’t even know where to start to find him. Just show up at his common room door and wait until he leaves?”

Ohria hums in contemplation before turning to look out the window, smiling slyly at whatever caught her eye. “Looks like you won’t have to,” she says nodding her head towards the window causing you to turn and take a look yourself.

There walking past the window and towards the front door was Namjoon and Taehyung, the former holding his wand up as a clear light emits from the tip, forming into a makeshift umbrella for the two men. You feel your cheeks flush again as Ohria turns in her seat, waving the two boys over to your booth. You look up as they make it to the table, smiling as you make eye contact with Taehyung. You notice his cheeks are colored with a rosy hint as he returns a smile to you. You try to not think much of it, using the cold weather outside to be the cause. Ohria stands up from her seat, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss before sliding into the empty seat next to you, the two boys taking up the seats across. The barmaid approaches again, taking the boys order and returning again shortly with two more mugs of butter beer.

“Dreary weather, isn’t it?” Namjoon asks, breaking the silence before taking a big drink from his glass. Everyone nods as you hum in response, finding it suddenly hard to form words with Taehyung sitting across from you. You’re not sure why you find it hard to speak to him this time, always joking and conversing during the school year. Maybe the possibility of some possible time alone has you feeling slightly off your game.

“How are you, YN? I hear you’re also staying here during the break,” Taehyung asks, softly smiling as he waits for your response. You smile back, lips beginning to part in response when Ohria jumps in and answers for you instead.

“Yes, she is! Sadly, I’m leaving her all by her lonesome for a while,” she says with a pout, wrapping her hands around your arm and laying her head on your shoulder. “You’ll take good care of her for me, Taetae, won’t you?”

You give Ohria a little pinch on her thigh and she lets out a tiny squeak, letting go of your arm. She lightly swats your arm before scooting away from you, Namjoon looking at her curiously as Tae shoots up an eyebrow and chuckles.

“It would be my pleasure. What do you say, YN? Mind keeping me company during the break?” He gives you another boxy smile and you smile big in return.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you manage to squeak out, nudging Ohria with your elbow as she starts to giggle again next to you.

Namjoon jumps in, talking about the plans he’s made for him and Ohria once they get to Korea. Taehyung throws out his own suggestions and you add your own commentary here and there, easing you and your friends into easy conversation. Before long, another hour has passed. Namjoon looks down at his watch before announcing his and Ohria’s time to go. Everyone stands up from the table, leaving tips and payment on the table for the barmaid before walking towards the door.

Ohria turns to give you a hug before Namjoon begins helping her back into her winter coat. “If you need me, I’m only an owl away. I’ll be back before you know it. Promise me you’ll enjoy yourself?”

“I promise,” you tell her. Waving to her as she follows Namjoon out the door, blowing you a kiss before it closes.

“Mind if I walk you back to the castle?” Taehyung asks you, wrapping his scarf around his neck as he looks down at you.

You nod your head and smile, grabbing your winter coat off the hook on the wall. Taehyung reaches and grabs it from you, catching you by surprise. “Let me help you with that,” he says as he holds it open for you. You give him a shy thanks as you slip it on. He rubs his hands down your arm once it’s secure, his hand slightly brushing yours as he moves around you and opens the door. You were happy to see a break in the rain fall, allowing for the walk back be a little less treacherous in the cold.

“So what would you like to do this break?” You ask, looking up at the tall man walking next to you.

“Hmm,” he hums, puffs off transparent smoke coming from his mouth as he breathes out into the cold air. “I got a few ideas. I can run some by you now and we can discuss it over breakfast in the morning?”

“Sounds good,” you say with a smile. Taehyung smiles back at you as you both fall into another easy conversation on your way back up to the castle.

Rain, again. You can’t see it, the sleeping quarters of the Slytherin dungeons lacking windows, but you can hear it hitting the ground above. And it’s coming down hard. You roll out of bed, your movements sluggish as you get ready for the day. You make your way into the common room, stretching your arms in the air as a yawn overtakes you. The room is nearly vacant. Only a pair of 2nd years hanging out on the couch sharing their collection of wizarding cards with each other. The door swings open, Yuta walks into the common room, looking around the room until he spots you and smiles. “Ah, Y/L/N. Perfect timing. You got a visitor outside.”

You tilt your head to the side, wondering who would be coming to see you when your memory hits you. Your promised breakfast with Taehyung. Your eyes go wide as your cheeks heat up and you quickly make your way to the door. “Ah, yes. Thank you,” you say as you give a quick smile and wave to Yuta. He lets out a snicker walking past you further into the common room.

Once outside, you see Taehyung leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted down towards the floor. When he hears the wall covering the door to the common room open, he looks up, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes. His boxy smile takes over his face when he sees you.

“Good morning,” he says, his low baritone dripping from his mouth like honey as he walks over to you. He gives you a quick hug, a kiss landing on your check right before he pulls away. You feel your cheeks warm again, a big smile forming on your face as you begin to walk side by side towards the dining hall.

“Good morning,” you squeak out. You clear your throat, your voice still hidden behind your own sleepiness. “How did you sleep?”

“Not bad. Rain helped lull me to sleep. The smell of breakfast from the kitchen woke me up. How about --”

“Watch out!”

You both stop quickly in your tracks from the shout coming from a sideroom to your right. A white wisp in the shape of a dolphin zooms in front of you, dissipating into nothing as it crashes into the wall on the other side.

“Sorry about that!” You turn to the doorway of the sideroom. Your classmate, Jimin, stands there rubbing the back of his head with one of his hands. A sheepish smile on his face as he looks at you and Taehyung.

You let out a giggle as you smile back. “It’s alright, it looked harmless. What were you doing with that dolphin though?”

“Ah, I’ll show you. But you gotta keep it a secret, okay?” Jimin waves you two into the sideroom and you both follow him. There in the empty room, you see an oversized snow globe. Colorful wisps of smoke inside swapping from shapes of hearts into waves of water.

“I was trying to get that dolphin into here. It’s a Christmas gift for my girlfriend, Tina. I’ve been struggling with Charms class this year and she’s been helping me out. Her patronus is a dolphin, so I figured this would be something she’d enjoy.” Jimin waves his wand in the air, a new cloud of wisps spout from the tip, once again forming into a dolphin. He flicks his wrist, the dolphin successfully jumping into the water of the snow globe this time as he turns to you and Taehyung and smiles. You both clap your hands in applause as he bows, his eyes disappearing from the wide smile on his face when he stands straight.

“That looks awesome! I’m sure she’ll love it!” Tae praises.

“It’s really cute, Jimin. You did great!” You smile at him as you start to turn back out of the room. “We were just on our way to breakfast if you wanted to join us.”

Jimin shakes his head, smiling the whole time from your praises. “I’m going to work on this a bit more, but I’ll see you guys up there. Thanks!” He gives you a wave goodbye as you and Tae walk back out of the room, continuing your way towards the great hall.

Your first full day spent with Taehyung was wonderful. Something you needed to help take your mind off the mundaneness that has been the winter weather. It’s the next morning. You once again find yourself in the great hall, sitting across from Tae and Jimin as they are both talking animatedly about the last quidditch match that took place before the break. Your eyes are on Tae, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he speaks. The way the soft curls of his hair bounce just slightly when he laughs. He flashes his boxy smile, the sight of it taking you back to the day before.

After breakfast, you had both played a few rounds of wizard’s chess. You won every game but the last, finding the pout Tae gave you every time he lost was too cute for you to go easy on him. After each loss, he would jut out his bottom lip, begging you with matching puppy dog eyes for one more rematch. Only stopping once he finally came out the victor.

You spent the rest of the afternoon walking through the courtyards of the school grounds. The rain seemingly subsided for the day, leaving little puddles of water scattered on the ground. Finding a dry bench, you sit down next to Tae. He took the chance to entertain the two of you by charming the puddles, using droplets of water to create figure skaters that would glide across the surface or little fish and dolphins hopping back and forth across the puddles. You couldn’t help your giggles, how your eyes lit up in fascination as the figures danced across the water. You remember looking over at Taehyung, how your breath caught in your throat at the way he was watching you. His eyes warm with adoration as his signature boxy smile graced his face. You wonder if it was your hopeful thoughts playing tricks on you, the way it seemed like he was leaning in towards you. The moment being interrupted by the sky once again falling out. You were remembering how the warmth of his hand felt in yours as he pulled you to run for cover when the sound of your name pulled you from the daydream.

Back in the present, you notice Tae and Jimin looking at you expectantly. You blink owlishly at them, slight embarrassment creeping in as you realize you have no idea what they asked you. “S-sorry, what was that?” you stammer, looking down at your plate to hide your blush as Jimin snickers at you.

“Lunch at The Three Broomsticks and then afterwards we do a little walking or shopping. What do you think?” Tae repeats, a hopeful expression on his face.

You go to respond when you’re interrupted by excited gasps that fill the great hall. “It’s starting to snow!” you hear someone shout. You look up at the enchanted ceiling, the previously dark clouds now turning a light shade of grey as little snow flurries start to fall. A wide smile grows on your face as you look back down at Taehyung who's already watching you with a smile of his own.

“Let’s go get dressed,” he says, standing from the table. You follow him, rushing out of the great hall with the rest of the students. Tae turns towards the direction of the Hufflepuff common room, shouting over his shoulder “I’ll meet you back here!” before disappearing out of sight.

You run with Jimin to the Slytherin common room, racing up the stairs to your dorm to dress in something warmer. Your smile never leaves your face, excitement coursing through your entire body. The snow is here. Finally. The weather you have been waiting to see since you decided to stay at school for the holidays finally made its appearance. Dressed in your thick winter coat, you make your way out of the dungeons, walking back to meet Tae in front of the great hall. Once there, Taehyung’s face lights up with another smile. He offers his gloved hand to you and you take it, speeding up to keep up with his long strides as he pulls you to the doors leading outside.

The moment you step outside, you're met with the disappointed grumbles of other students, passing you as they walk back into the castle. Taking a few more steps outside, you turn the corner to see what has caused everyone to be so upset and your face drops. The snow flurries that fell from the sky not too long ago have turned back into cold, icy rain. Washing away any evidence of the snow that had barely stuck to the ground.

“Dang, I knew it was too good to be true,” Tae mumbles as he lets out a sigh, still holding your hand as he stands next to you. You shared his disappointment. Maybe a little too much with how quickly you could feel your mood turning south. You watch the rain, suddenly feeling the desire to be alone. The dreary weather sucking all the motivation for fun out of you. Dropping your hand from Tae’s, you turn back towards the castle to walk back inside.

Feeling the loss of your hand, Tae turns around and follows you. “I’m sorry, YN. I know you’ve been looking forward to the snow.”

You give Tae a soft smile, looking back down at your feet as you continue to walk back inside. “It’s okay, Tae. It’s not like you can control the weather.” Your attempt at a joke at the end is delivered poorly due to your mood. You can tell by the forced smile Tae gives you as he watches you with a sorrowful expression. Once back inside, Tae places his hand on your shoulder to stop you and you turn to face him. “We can still have a good time in Hogsmeade. You still want to go?”

You give him another soft smile, trying your best to make it look genuine. You want to go, you really do. But just the mere thought of spending anymore time out in the miserable, cold rain sinks your mood even lower. You know you would be no fun to be around like this. “I’m actually not feeling too well. Could’ve been something I ate. I’m just gonna take it easy for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You turn and start to walk away, barely hearing Tae’s “yeah, see ya” as you wave him goodbye over your shoulder. You make your way back to the Slytherin common room and towards your bed, planning on curling up in the warm sheets and hope tomorrow is a better day.

It’s been two days since you’ve seen Taehyung. Only catching him in brief passing at breakfast the morning after the teased snow day. You had every intention to apologize to him for your attitude, feeling guilty for having felt like you took your bad day out on him. Only he didn't give you the chance with how quickly he ran out of the great hall, saying something about needing to speak with Professor Flitwick and that he’ll catch you later. You didn’t see him for the rest of the day. The next day, you didn’t even see him at breakfast, only being made aware of his absence from an owl he sent explaining how he was going to be busy in the library the whole day. You couldn’t help but feel like he was avoiding you.

Making your way into the dining, you see Jimin waving you over, handing you a letter as you sit across from him. You open it, half expecting another letter of avoidance from Taehyung. You were happy to see that it was from Ohria, gushing about her trip with Namjoon to Korea. Wishing you a happy holiday and how she can’t wait to hear how your week has been going. You fold the letter and place it in your back pocket before filling your plate with food. You’re near down with your food when you spot a familiar figure running up to you from the corner of your eye. You turn towards him, standing from your seat as he reaches you.

“Oh, great! You’re here,” he says, grabbing your hand as he starts to pull you towards the entrance. “Come on, I have something to show you!” You stumble a little as you try to keep up with him. As you step into the hallway outside of the great hall, you decide now is as good as time as any to finally apologize.

“Tae, wait,” you say, tugging on his hand to stop him. He looks back at you, eyes wide as he looks at you, waiting for whatever you're about to say. “I want to apologize.”

He furrows his brow, turning to face you completely as he takes your other hand in his. “What? What do you have to apologize for?”

“The other day. I wasn’t in the best mood, and I was kinda rude to you. I just… I didn’t know if that’s why you were avoiding me the last two days.”

Tae smiles at you. He lets go of one of your hands, lifting his now free hand to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, causing your cheeks to warm from the sudden touch. “I didn’t mean for you to think I was avoiding you. My absence does have to do with that day, but not because you were rude. Which you weren’t, by the way,” he reassures you, tapping the tip of your nose. Your lips turning up into a smile from the cuteness. “Just follow me, yeah? That’s what I want to show you.” You nod your head, following Tae as he continues to lead you through the hall and out the doors into the castle grounds.

“Tae, wait! I don’t have my coat,” you whine. Tae pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arm around you as he continues to lead you to your destination.

“I know, I got it covered. Just trust me.”

You go to argue, your words cut short when you see a large dome in the middle of the courtyard. In the dome, you see a cute little forest setting. Snow littering the ground and the tops of the evergreen trees. You’re at a loss for words, only a subtle whisper of a “wow” leaves your lips as you look at the enchanted globe in awe.

Tae watches you carefully, drinking in the sight of your amazement. He grabs your hand again, pulling you closer to the dome and inside. He smiles at the giggles you let out while you step onto the snow. He commits to memory the beautiful smile that adorns your face with each crunch of your step across the snowy surface. He walks you to the middle of the dome, turning to face you once you reach it. “This is what I’ve been up to the last few days. Trying to learn how to control the weather.”

You let out a snort at his joke, how he parroted your words back to you. You lightly push his shoulder, a big smile covering his face as he watches you walk around the globe. He pulls his wand out of his jacket pocket, pointing it up at the top of the globe as he gives a quick flick of his wrist. Suddenly, tiny snowflakes start falling from the top of the dome. You look up and close your eyes, smiling when you can feel the coolness of the fluffy ice land on your cheeks. Opening your eyes as you look down, you look back over at Taehyung as you continue to walk around the tiny winter wonderland. “You did this all for me?”

He nods his head, his eyes never leaving you as he watches you explore. “I wanted to see you smile. I love seeing you smile.”

You feel your own cheeks warm at his confession. Suddenly, you feel a little shiver run through your body from the chilly air. “This still doesn’t cover the fact that I don’t have my coat,” you tease as you walk back over to him.

Tae laughs, shrugging off his coat and placing it around your shoulders. He points his wand back up to the top and flicks his wrist again. The top of the dome turns into the image of a shining sun and you can immediately feel the warming rays as if it was the actual sun in the sky. “Told you I got it covered,” he says as he winks at you.

You look around, happy to see that the enchanted snow is still intact and not melting, the warming temperature from the charm not having any effect. You hear Taehyung clear his throat and you look back at him, noticing the light blush that now adorns his cheeks. “I learned one other thing,” he says nervously, once again flicking his wand, this time towards the nearest tree.

You watch as a branch extends out above you, small leaves blooming until a big group of green leaves hangs over the two of you. You examine it, noticing the tiny white and red berries that are scattered through the cluster of green. “Mistletoe,” you breathe out in a whisper.

You feel Taehyung's hand on your cheek, pulling your face back to look at him. His eyes twinkle with mirth as they meet yours, his lips turning up into a soft smile as he starts to lean in. “I know this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, but I hope it at least made you happy.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him down, closing the distance between you as you catch his lips in a soft, quick kiss. Breaking apart, Tae leans his forehead against yours as you both smile. “It’s absolutely perfect,” you reassure him, watching as his beautiful boxy smile once again graces his features just before he leans back in locking your lips in another kiss.

#kafeholiday20 #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #btsbookclub #bangtanuniversity #kwritersworldnet #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts fanfic #bts fluff #fic ; SID #sly-merlin

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aikrus · 4 years

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Pairing: T. Iida x Reader Rating: 15+ Words: 4k289 Warnings: Reference of Alcohol, and angst Requested by: No one, but requests are open! Summary: The story of Iida’s summer before UA, and how love isn’t always a good thing.

QUIRK: Soul Beam

The summer before high school was a fever dream that Y/n never wanted to wake up from. The sweat sticking to her skin was only ever washed away from the storms that passed through her life- note: even the pools she submerged herself in never removed the glistening water from her body because sometimes water needs a little force behind it in order to cleanse you.

The gold and purple sunsets are passing memories that she wants to desperately hold on to. No taste will be quiet like the pancakes she had eaten, and no smell will ever replace that of the sweater she stole (despite overheating every time she wore it).

Scars are a painful reminder of what she went through, and it takes a little to see them as a badge of honor, but the help she received only made it re-open in the long run.

Tire swings will never be the same, and that stupid song is still on the radio- as if it wasn’t playing enough in her head. Y/n used to think she was strong, but now that’s barely believable. Ice cream cones and train rides have a hidden meaning that will only ever be known by her and it hurts to know that no one can help her mourn a love that never happened.

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The first question was asked when the summer started. It was next to a moving van that was a beacon calling out to everyone on the street it was parked on. The well-off neighborhood was full of upstanding citizens who wanted nothing more than to welcome the newest member with open arms.

It was that beacon that called the Iida family over to the driveway. But as Tenya walked with his brother and parents, he wondered if the bright beacon that drew him in was the moving truck of the bright smile of the teen girl, happily grabbing boxes of things to bring inside.

“Hello! We’re the Iida family, this is my husband, and these are my two son’s, Tensei and Tenya. Welcome to the neighborhood!” The wife smiled kindly at the mother.

“Thank’s for coming out! This is my husband, Y/d/n, and my daughter Y/n. We’re really looking forward to joining the neighborhood,” to the untrained eye this looked like any normal greeting, but Y/n knew better. She could see the subtle glances her mom threw at her. She was trying to say how cute the younger boy was. It received a light chuckle and an eye-roll from her daughter.

“Tenya,” The Iida’s father said, clasping him on the shoulder, “Why don’t you go help Y/n with her boxes?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, walking over to the moving truck.

“You can just grab that one if it’s not too heavy,” she pointed at a medium side box labeled ‘Knickknacks’. He hummed in agreement and followed her up into her room, noting the aesthetic that she surrounded herself in.

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

A knock echoed through the newly-decorated house, alerting the present family members of a visitor.

“Not it,” Y/n’s dad said, pressing his finger to his noes; her mother follows suit.

“You guys are literal children,” Y/n groaned, forcing herself off the couch she had grown ever so attached to. Grumpily, she made her way to the door.

“Oh hey! Iida, right?” Y/n said, recognizing the boy that had already been in her room.

“Yes! That’s me. I uh,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously, “I was heading down to the boardwalk, and I wanted to know if you would like to come with me?”

Truth be told this wasn’t his idea. His mother had been pressuring him for days in hopes to grow closer to the new family. It wouldn’t be long until they realized the Iida’s are a line of hero’s, and she wanted to get close to them before they found out.

“Oh,” Y/n replied, suddenly thinking of the clothes she was currently wearing. While her tie-dye shorts and loose t-shirt weren't anything to be ashamed of, they were not ‘paint the town red’ clothes.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to!” Tenya said, suddenly embarrassed that he randomly invited a girl his age to hang out with him.

“No! I’ll gladly go, just give me a few minutes to get changed. Come inside,” Y/n had said, opening the door wider for him before racing upstairs.

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

Iida walked slightly behind the girl he was supposed to show around. It was a cliché, but she was mesmerizing. Her hair bounced with every step, and she walked like she had a purpose, and the end goal was in mind and she would stop at nothing to get there.

She looked like she was made of honey and sugar and a taste would give him a cavity. The beams of the sun projected from her eyes like the cosmos and it made him want to fall in- knowing full well that drifting through the endless space would never cease to amaze him.

“Do you think they sell corn-dogs here?”

“Huh? oh!” He blushed, before pointing ahead, “Yeah, there’s one right by the docks.”

“Well then what are we waiting for?” She smiled and leaned closer to Iida. “Let's hurry!” There was a burst of light laughter in her voice, as she grabbed his hand and ran off. What was he doing here?

When they reached the end of the docks- corn dogs in hand- they say on the bench which over-looked the sea. Night had fallen while they were out, Y/n becoming absorbed in learning as much as she can about where she moved to.

As she looked out to the wine-light sky, she wondered if she could swim to it. The horizon looked so close, like just reaching out a little further would put it in her grasp. It wasn’t until Tenya’s hand grabbed her shoulder that she realized she really was leaning forward.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, eyebrows pulled together.

“Yeah!” She smiled, snapped out of her thoughts,. “Just day-dreaming,”

“We should get you back home,” He said, before looking back to the water.

She saw his glasses, they reflected the golden hue of the sunset, and the beautiful purple that fought underneath it. She saw all the beauty in the world in his eyes, all that was good and right- was all in front of her. He was the sunset, he was the horizon she so desperately wanted to get to.

“Hey, Iida?” Y/n asked, swinging her legs back and forth under the bench.

“What is it?” He said, looking over to her face- which didn’t turn to see him.

“Stupid question- but an icebreaker; if you could have anyone in the world- living or dead- over to yours for dinner, who would it be?” she blushed a little, but kept a calm face.

He knew the answer as soon as she finished the sentence, but there was no need to tell someone he just met the name of the girl he had been in love with for years- so all he said was, “Probably Catherin The Great, she had a few political opinions I’d like to hear about first hand,”

“Hmm, I can see you two bonding over tea,” She smirked, standing up from her seat, “Let’s get home.”

Tenya nodded, walking beside Y/n- thinking about her.

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

A month had passed, and the little interactions the two families had resulted in the Iida’s inviting them over for breakfast. Y/n had woken up early to get dressed. She pulled her hair into a ponytail, harshly shaking it so the baby hairs would fall out. She threw on a form-fitting sweater and yoga-pants. Despite wanting to look like it’s a casual mornings- she did apply some casual makeup to make herself look a little more awake.

It was stupid- she knows- but Y/n really just wanted to look a tiny bit better when he sees her again. Looking in the mirror, she wonders if he’s putting a little extra effort in his appearance as well. She could only hope.

Walking down the stairs, she saw her mother- also wearing casual makeup- and her father in a black polo and slacks. They were both standing by the door, waiting for their daughter to come out from her cave.

“Why are you guys already done?” She asked, turning on the phone and checking the time.

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Her dad smiled, putting his own phone away.

“Alright,” Her mom smiled, putting on her wedges, “Let’s get going. Y/n can you grab the scones and smoothie?”

“Yeah mah, I’ll be right back,”

“Thanks love,” she smiled, grabbing the house keys off the hook.

They were kinda heavy, but it was nothing she couldn’t carry. That didn’t stop her dad from taking it from her with a smile. She could have done it, but she’s not necessarily upset about it.

---

Sitting at the dining room table was only awkward in the beginning of the meal. The Iida’s seemed to be pretty profesional people, but the Y/l/n’s were introverts with an acquired sense of humor. Joking about everything from people at work, eachother, and random facts they had learned, the Iida’s quickly became much less tense during the meal.

The mother and father- whom’s names Y/n never seemed to learn, were last few to smile or laugh along side the rest, beaten by Tenya by only a second, but Tensai had been the first to crack a joke, almost beating Y/n herself to break the ice.

The loud laughter slowly split into multiple side conversations; Y/n- who sat across from Tenya- tried to strike up a conversation. “Do you want to be famous one day?”

“Hmm?” He asked, looking up from the lone strawberry cut on his plate, “Yes, I plan on being a Hero.”

A few seconds longer than a moment had passed, end Tensai asked Y/n in return, “What about you? You wanna live the life of fame, or are you more of a low-key kinda gal,” he smiled at her, and for a second Y/n though he had noticed the embarrassment worn on her face after being rejected and forced into silence.

“I dunno really, my quirk is pretty multipurpose. I originally wanted to be a counselor or therapist, but it’s changed from a vet to doctor, to a hundreds of other things. My parents think I should be a hero- I wouldn’t mind I don’t think, but the constant attention could get pretty annoying. A like being busy with people and events, but I do value my privacy,”

He smiled at her, nodding in acceptance at her answer. The Iida parents had been listening into her words while she spoke, but they still conversed with Y/n’s parents as well.

Y/n saw a smile on Iida’s face. That mirrored on her own, and suddenly her pancakes tasted a whole lot better. She missed the far off look in his eyes, if only she saw the worried look that was on Tensai’s face. If she had, maybe that small warning could have protected her heart.

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

Y/n had found an abandoned tire swing in their large backyard, three acres of cleared land and two of forest. The swing was in a small clearing- it looked like a party or two had been thrown while it was vacant- shown by the few nips thrown about the ground. She swung back and forth- listening to music playing in her head.

Because of how caught up in her head she was, she never heard the footsteps approaching her. “Hey, Y/L/N!” Tenya greated.

“Jesus Christ!” She shouted, falling from the swing. Thankfully, with the use of his quirk, Iida was able to catch her just in time.

“You should really be more careful,”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” she rolled her eyes.

He smiled, helping her back up to the swing. He slowly began to push her back and forth, spinning her as fast as he could listening to her laughter. Getting more and more dizzy, she closed her eyes to stay level headed.

With a heavy sigh of contentment, Y/n lied on the grass with Iida, staring up at the beautiful blue sky. “Hey, Tenya?” She asked, still looking up.

“Yeah?” He turned on his side to see her better- only to notice her eyes were closed.

“What’s your perfect day?”

“Hmm...” he thought for a second, trying to think of a good answer. “Probably waking up early, and seeing the girl I love as soon as I open my eyes. Then I’d like to eat breakfast with my family- followed by patrol with my brother. Then I’d like to go home and make a cup of tea and sit down with a book I like. Yeah, that sounds pretty good,” he smiled himself, closing his eyes to really picture what he was saying.

“That sounds really nice Iida,” she whispered, wondering if she could be the one he loves.

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

Summer only had a month left, but Y/n wanted to make the most of the fleeting free-time she had left. Wanting to explore more of Japan before her freedom was stripped from her, she invited Iida to go on a roadtrip with her.

It wasn’t hard at all to convince her parents to let her go, with her quirk she really didn’t need to worry about being attacked. Even then, she’s physically strong if she can’t use her quirk to defend herself. With the rise of heroes to protect everyone, Japan quickly became one of the safest places. Y/n was also very closely trained with America’s top hero, Reflector. She taught Y/n everything she knew and fully plans on giving Y/n her hero agency as her predecessor.

Iida’s parents were a little harder to convince, but Y/n’s parents were very persuasive. They would be gone for a week, and they would check in every morning when they woke up and every night before they went to sleep. If they didn’t call during one of the time’s then they had until the next call to respond.

They had made a list of regions and cities in them to visit in them, with the days they would be arriving and leaving. If they skipped a stop of stayed longer, then they had to text their parents with the nex information. Solid rules, and both the teens agreed to them, as well as their parents.

The bus ride to the train station was relatively short, but it was in complete silence. It was a little awkward, but they just had to get through that one part.

The train ride itself was much more enjoyable. With their suitcases in hand, they sat close yet comfortably. “Hey, Tenya?”

“What’s up?” He asked, looking up from his phone to see her eyes staring back at him- a smile tugging at his lips.

“For what in your life do you feel most grateful?” She questioned, smiling into his eyes.

“Probably my family,” He responded as soon as she finished- having grown accustomed to Y/n’s random questioning, “They’ve done so much for me, and I only hope I can pay them back for all that they’ve supported me through.”

Y/n nodded at his answer, acknowledging how very much like him it is. The loud bustle of train and constant shaking led them to listening to music together, sharing earbuds and squeezing close together. It was a cheesy, new, pop song- one that will probably inspire a sub-culture of girls to bind together. It was weirdly comforting.

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

The last night they spent through their travel of Japan was by far the most enjoyable. There was a small frost in the air that traveled with the two, following them in their own little bubble.

The streets were lightly illuminated, and it seemed like they were the only two in the world. Y/n had grabbed him by the hand, dragging him to an ice cream vendor. Seeing her in front of him, Tenya was thrown back to the first time they spent time together- everything's so different now. Yet, her beautiful eyes stay constant. Her kindness in unwavering. She’s still a girl made of honey and sugar.

After traveling together for so long, the two stopped correcting people who referred to them as a couple- they simply accepted it as an inside joke. This was why they laughed when the man behind the counter said “And these two for the cute couple,” with a wink at the end of his sentence.

Walking linked by the elbows, the two passed through the park. Shivering from the wind and the chill of her ice cream, Iida stopped the pair. He took off his sweater, revealing the long-sleeve shirt he wore underneath, and he handed it to her.

“Ten! You’ll freeze to death,” she said, refusing the offering.

“C’mon Y/n/n, I can heat myself up through my engines, and I wasn’t asking. You’re gonna wear the sweater or you’ll get sick. Put it on,” he said, taking the ice-cream from her hand and raising her arms like she was a child.

Y/n was very pleased the cold hid the blush on her face- last thing she needed was for him to discover her feelings on the last day of this amazing trip. She slipped into his large sweater, and grabbed her ice cream back from him.

“Hey Iida, I’ve got another question,” she said, walking with him through the trees bordering the street.

“I’m ready,” he asked, looking forward to make sur they didn’t walk into anything in the dark.

“What’s a personal problem you could use some advise for?” She asked, actually curious as to what he could possibly need help with.

He sighed, not making eye-contact. “I guess since we’re close enough- even on nickname basis- I should be comfortable telling you this. I’m in love with this girl, I’ve never stopped thinking about her since the moment I met her,” a dopey smile came onto his face, “I have no idea how to tell her. And now we’re going into highschool, and she’s going to meet so many other people- people I’m sure are more fun than me. I want to confess to her before the summer ends, but I have no idea how to. So,” he sucked in a deep breath and looked at Y/n, “What do you think?”

Y/n smiled, she was so sure he was being cheesy and talking about her. She fully believes that he’s gonna confess tonight. It has to happen- that’s the only way what he just said makes sense.

“I think,” she closed her eyes, “You should look her in the eyes, and compliment them. Whether she accepts your compliment or refuses it, tell her you want her to know how perfect she is- and then tell her how you feel. Tell her how just seeing her makes your day, how you want her to be the first thing you see in the morning, and the last voice you hear at night. Tell her you want to spoil her, want to tell her everyday how perfect she is. Confess to her that she’s amazing, and that you love her. Let her know how you feel, and then respect her reply. But, there’s no way she’ll turn you down. Be confident, you’re amazing and I’m sure she feels the same,”

Tenya thanked her for her advise, and they fell back into a comfy silence. It was then she remembered the night they decided to go by first names, the night she realized how hard she fell for him.

----

Y/n was sitting on her rooftop, Iida beside her. They were looking up at the stars- sitting in silence. Like always, she started the conversation- “Hey, Iida, If you died this evening without being able to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? And Why haven’t you told them yet?”

“Huh,” he murmured, thinking hard. “I’d regret not thanking my brother more. He risks his life to save people, and he practically raised me. He’s why I want to be a hero, to live up to his expectations. I guess I haven’t told him yet because I want to prove that I’ve done something with myself. I want him to know he doesn’t have to raise me anymore- that I succeed,”

Y/n thought for a moment, before answering a question for the first and only time they have known eachother- but he didn’t ask it. She just felt a need to finally speak.

“I had an ex-boyfriend,” she sighed, clenching her eyes shut; “We’d been dating for five years- since we were children. We were so close as kids, but when our quirks manifested he broke up with me. He said my quirk was too dangerous for him, that he didn’t want to be part of the backstory of a villians history. It fucking ruined me. I was an idiot for actually thinking we could have lasted. About a month after we broke up, a villian attacked the agency I was working at. The only reason I was there was because I know the hero in charge, and he knew that. He had come to the building during my break- I don’t know why he was there, but I was the only person he knew there. The villain attacked, but his quirk wasn’t very strong. All he could do was change the color of an item for a few seconds. He was killed that day- slaughtered by the villain who’s only reason was boredom. I wish I could talk to him one last time, tell him I loved him one last time.”

Iida scooted closer to her, pulling her head onto his chest, letting her use him as a crutch. “It’s okay, Y/n. It’ll be okay,”

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

When highschool started, and Tenya hadn’t confessed his love to him, Y/n came to the painful realization that she wasn’t the one he loved. However, it was the first day of school that hit the nail on the head.

She had entered the classroom of 1-A, after her family convinced her to at least try out the hero course, and was terrified that she would know no one. And then, she heard a voice that reminded her of someone very similar.

At the far end of the room, she saw the back of a blue-haired boy scolding a blond with his feet on the desk. A smile spread across her mouth when she realized who this up-tight teen was. Practically running to cover the distance of the class, Y/n launched herself onto Iida, latching onto her.

“Ten!” She smiled, shifting to wear he could comfortably hold her up.

“Y-Y/n?” He asked, momentarily stunned by her sudden appearance. He smiled and spun her around for a second before putting her down. “You’re here? You’re parents convinced you to pursue being a hero?” he was reasonably confused, but he wasn’t upset she was there- if anything he was glad to have a second familiar face around.

“Yeah, I’m just trying it out,” Y/n laughed, scratching the back of her neck.

“So heartwarming, now get outta my line of sight four-eyes,” the blond snapped, glaring at the pair.

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Y/n said, rolling her eyes at his comments.

Meanwhile, Iida laughed at Y/n being called his girlfriend. Y/n, who used to laugh with him, could only do her best to not cry.

“C/mon Ten, let’s go to your seat,” Y/n said, tugging his hand towards the spot with his name on it- stopping when her arm was tugged, caused by him not moving with her.

“Sorry Y/n/n,” he said, releasing her hand. “I would, but I promised Momo I’d meet her by the gate and guide her to the classroom. You know about Momo, right?” He looked into her eyes hoping she would put it together herself. After realizing she wouldn’t, he reminded her, “We talked about her on our last day of the tour.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling suddenly really cold.

“Yeah,” He smiled, “Wish me luck!” He gave her a thumbs up and walked out the room- leaving her stunned and so very cold.

A scoff echoed from behind her, causing her to look back and see the blond once again.

“That guy’s an idiot- glasses or not. It’s so obvious how you feel about him, and you’re way to attractive to pine after someone like him. You’re smart too, since you got into this school- he’s really missing out,” he rolled his eyes, but he also knew what just happened- even though no one else in the room picked up on it.

He assumed they were dating, but when Iida laughed, Bakugo had no clue if he was laughing at them dating or the girl’s reaction. He quickly figured out which of the two was the truth, and he also realized that he had no clue that she was in love with him.

Y/n didn’t react to his words, just stuck in the weird state she was in. She wasn’t sad, or angry. There was no tears or screams or breakdown, just a silent wave of shock. An ocean of doubt consumed her, filling her with a sense of... nothing.

She should have known. She should have realized. It’s entirely her fault. Who could love her. Who would want to love her. Who wants to date a freak. Who wants to date someone with a villainous quirk like hers. That’s why he was shocked when she showed up- he thought they’d reject a future villain like her.

No wonder everyone hates her; if she was someone else she’d hate herself too.

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englishbreakfasttae · 4 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe.

CMO!Taehyung x reader

Genre : fluff

Word count : 1.5k

A/N : this is my first fanfiction here so please be kind. I know it wasn’t anything special, just a cute little fluffy scenario I had in mind. Hope you liked it!!

You want to think that New Year’s Eve was something that you enjoyed celebrating, but that would be a blatant lie. You only attend these parties because… well… there’s free food. And a chance to meet a potential suitor for Valentine’s day.

Maybe you are jumping a little too ahead with that. Valentine’s day? That is too far ahead, maybe you should just think about having someone to make you feel warm during this brutal winter in Seoul. Ah, the snowfall brings back memories of every romantic comedy you have watched in your lifetime of solidarity.

But this year is different, you don’t want to waste time trying to find your knight in shining armour. After watching numerous inspirational videos, you have realised that you don’t need to find love, it will find you. Dressed in a silver slip-on complimenting you curvaceous body, your hair perfectly curled with the help of your roommate, and a dash of scarlet lipstick working as just the right kind of a cherry on top – you knock on your parent’s suburban doorstep to celebrate the end of another wonderful yet complicated year.

“Oh, there is my baby,” your mother embraces you in a warm hug as she opens the door. “Come on in, oh and you’re-“ she checks her Rolex wristwatch, “twenty minutes late.”

“Sorry mum, got stuck in the traffic,” you roll your eyes. Your mother has always been the uptight one, trying to nit-pick every little mistake you make in your life.

“Anyways, I have a present for you today.” She looks quite excited about whatever she has in store for you. “But take off your coat and go greet the other guests first.”

After discarding your overcoat on the coat hanger, you saunter inside and greet familiar faces while trying to hunt home-cooked meals.

“I wouldn’t have that with that,” a deep sound resonates behind your back as you were about to dip a French fry in tomato sauce. You turn around to give a nasty look to whoever was trying to ruin your yummy moment. You felt like your jaw dropped on the floor and slid down to hell as you laid eyes on the most handsome man you had ever seen in your life.

He had dark hair that was parted in the middle, giving his glorious forehead a peek. His eyebrows were thick and perfectly shaped. Could someone even have two exactly resembling eyebrows? You thought as you gaped at him. He had beautiful eyes; was it raven? Or was it a dark brown hidden by the dim lights inside the kitchen. His beautiful full lips quirk up as he notices you staring at him wide-eyed. You weren’t sure why you were so shocked, whether it was due to the interruption or the fact that some living angel (maybe the devil even) was at your disposal clad in a green sweater matched with khaki pants.

A writer perhaps?

“I-“ you pause, unable to form words. “are you talking about my choice of eating fries with ketchup?”

“Yes,” he chuckles. His voice was deeper than the Pacific Ocean, yet it was so soothing to hear. He could be a musician and people would swoon over him in a heartbeat.

“You see ketchup and fries are the perfect combinations, and that’s on period.”

“Absolutely not. It’s like saying Dan and Blair were meant to be. They weren’t,” his eyes glimmer with mischief. “…and that’s on period.”

His teasing made a smile creep up on your lips despite wanting to look offended. His personality was as charming as he looked, perhaps even more. All you could do was want to hear him speak more and more.

“Hmm, Gossip Girl. I like your taste.” You toss a ketchup coated fry in your mouth and look at the handsome stranger mockingly. His grin widens as he watches you munch away the greasy goodness.

“Thank you,” he winks at you. “We are people of taste, aren’t we?”

“C’mon weekends with Gossip Girl and The Politician with a bowl of popcorn? The ambitious little part of me would squeal in joy!”

“Ambitious,” he words in a low tone as if thinking out loud. “I’m Taehyung.”

Your hand meets his extended one in a handshake. His palm was warm as a contrast to your cold ones.

“y/n,” you breathe. “What brings you to my parent’s place?”

“Ah, I work at Mr L/n’s firm. So, you’re the infamous y/n that everybody’s been talking about.”

“What have they been talking about me?”

“Just how beautiful you are.” His eyes catch some light as he tilts his head a little, strands of hair shifting sideways. “They were not wrong.”

Your cheeks turn red and remain so throughout the evening as you two kept conversing. He didn’t miss a chance to drop flirty remarks or to tenderly put his arm across your waist to shift you as people passed by. Turns out you two had a lot more common than you thought, apart from having the polar opposite taste in ketchup and its combinations with other food items. But that shouldn’t be a deal-breaker, right?

As time passes by the time for the countdown neared and the enthusiasm among guests escalates. Your mother enters the kitchen, where you and the handsome stranger, wait, where you and Taehyung stood and drank each other in meanwhile drinking champagne in a fancy flute.

“y/n- oh you’ve met Taehyung,” she looks surprised. “I’ve been meaning to introduce him to you. He’s the CMO of your papa’s company. He is a sweetheart. But I’m sure you know that already. Why don’t you kids come to the main room where we’d do the countdown together.” She pulls you both to the foyer as she gives you a knowing smirk. That woman!

You secretly like what she was doing so you don’t complain.

Taehyung nods as you all assemble in the main room, filled with the clinking sound of glasses and dinnerware. She nudges you both near the fireplace. It was warm and cozy. You look up towards your mum and saw her wink at you.

“Oops, you’re both standing under the mistletoe. You know what to do now.” She giggles like a teenager.

“This isn’t even Christmas maa, why do you have a mistletoe as décor?” You are baffled. Deep inside you knew it was an evil plan arranged by your mother so that you would have to kiss someone at midnight. And that someone is Taehyung.

That was the present she had for you, prepared with golden ribbons – all wrapped up in an exemplary manner.

“I like them,” she crosses her arms and gives you a look. “I don’t know, you two have to follow the tradition or there might be consequences, hmm?” She sing-songs.

You are about to protest but she gives you the last glare and then smiles at Taehyung. She left you both startled as she vanishes in the crowd.

You stand there awkwardly not knowing what to do. Your heart rate increases as you realise what happened. Your mother knitted a plan, a master plan to invite you to a party and to hook you up with someone who works at your father’s firm. Classic mom move, you’d say. You turn towards Taehyung who looks just as flushed. He notices you staring and quickly points at the mistletoe.

“Guess we gotta follow tradition, huh?”

“I guess.” He makes you feel comfortable in a span of only a few seconds.

“10”

“9”

“8”

thump thump

“6”

Your heart was beating as if the god of thunder had possessed you.

“4”

Taehyung turns towards you. He places his long and tender fingers on the small of your back. Your faces are warm as the firewood makes discreet crackling sounds amidst the noisy counting of descending numbers in the room. For some reason, your ears cancel out any other sound surrounding you. All you can hear is the crackling of the fire, your brisk breathing followed by Taehyung’s ones resonating through your body. He pulls you closer and closer till you’re close enough to see tiny freckles on his face and nose. You want to caress his soft cheeks, should you? Or will it be too awkward or too straightforward?

He gives you that heart-wrenching smile again and takes a stray lock of hair between his fingers and runs them all the way to the end, tugging it like he’s flying a kite. He looks at you with soft eyes and leans in.

“1”

“Happy New New year!!”

His eyelashes elegantly dance as he closes his eyes, yours follow his command and you lean in as you taste each other – under the mistletoe, on New Year.

Maybe you truly don’t need to find love, it will find you.

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piracytheorist · 3 years

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (11/16)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: I wrote a short epilogue for the end, so chapter count and total word count has gone up again! XD

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 3.7k (51k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 11: Emma Swan and Killian Jones, May 19th – May 25th 2016

When they pull apart, the strap on Killian's bag breaks and he hustles to keep it from dropping to the floor. Emma quickly finds an empty luggage cart that looks forgotten and brings it to him.

“It's not that heavy,” he says. “But thank you.”

As they start rolling it towards the exit Emma says, “You got my message?”

“Aye. Everything all right?”

“My car broke down. We'll need to take the subway-”

“Emma?”

They both turn at the sound. Emma's face breaks into a slight smile as she recognizes Jefferson and his daughter Grace, two neighbors from her block. They had gone on a weekend trip and offer Emma and Killian a ride home.

“That was lucky,” Killian comments to her as they get in the car.

Emma takes the week off work; she meant it when she said she wants things to go slow, but there's so many actual things she wants to do with Killian.

As in, spend her time on.

Killian is still reserved; the broken bag strap and the feeling of jet lag as soon as he steps into Emma's apartment are not signs he considers good.

Maybe that will help more in encouraging him to go slow. He needs that time, but it's still not the easiest thing.

Conversation flows as naturally as it did in their video calls. When they finally decide to call it a night at three in the morning, Killian jokes about how they're finally getting sleepy at the same time.

Emma offers to take the couch and let him sleep in her bed, but Killian isn't having it.

He doesn't tell her he has the bad feeling he'll break it the first time he sits on it.

Emma takes him for late breakfast at her favourite coffee shop – the one she met Ruby at, in fact – and they eat in comfortable silence. It's not easy for either of them to admit that the previous night they spent about an hour each, lying in their respective beds and looking at the door separating them, with a little voice in their heads telling them to go knock on it.

They exit the coffee shop and Killian notices how Emma, at first on his left side, swaps so she can walk on his right side. Following her, he looks more at her relaxed hand on her side than on the road – she's the one who knows the city, either way. He's so surprised when she reaches to take his hand in hers that he doesn't wrap his fingers around hers until she looks at him and smiles.

Emma nearly teasingly asks him why he thought she swapped sides.

That night, Emma lies in her bed, still feeling guilty she didn't insist that Killian should be sleeping there, and still looking at the door separating them, as if it would give her the courage to go to him. Would he be asleep already? Would he even be jet-lagged?

Feeling alert, she jumps up when she hears soft noises from the other side. She runs to the door and puts her ear on it; the sound of the tap being turned on, then off, then a glass being put down.

She pulls away, quickly runs her fingers through her hair, and opens the door.

Killian looks at her, almost guiltily. “I... got thirsty,” he says. “Did I wake you up?”

“With the running water? Hardly. It's just... you know, we were doing things all day and I still feel a little restless.”

He rubs his forehead. “I was rolling around until I decided to come get some water. I don't think I'll be sleeping early tonight.”

If only there was another reason for that.

“Water won't get you through the night. You need something stronger.”

He swallows hard. “Swan.”

“I'm just talking about hot chocolate,” she says casually, hoping her panic didn't show. Not that she didn't have the instinctual thought to add some rum to it; she'll have to settle for cinnamon, and get used to it for now. “Cinnamon?”

Killian can't lie, he feels a little nervous. One ought to, he thinks, when being welcomed as a guest somewhere. But Emma didn't intend to make a joke about his rehab, nor did she try to get him to drink, though she had the perfect opportunity to.

Since he lost his hand, he's found himself wearing his prosthetic hook over it more and more, only exposing his arm in the presence of his family or when he had to for check-ups and security reasons. It feels special that he's sitting on Emma's couch now, with his stump out in the open, casually watching her as she moves around her kitchen preparing their chocolates.

She hasn't even commented on it. She saw it at some point during their video calls, but didn't react nor ask anything about it.

“I put less sugar in yours,” she says as she gives him the cup, “for your 'bitter' tooth.”

He smirks at her.

“But if you change your mind...” she points at a bag of marshmallows over on the kitchen counter, then sits next to him.

It's warm enough for a t-shirt and shorts, but the warmth from the cup feels comfortable, cozy. Homey.

“Would you mind, if I shared something?” he says.

She shakes her head, a soft smile on her face.

“I never told you about this.” He raises his left arm. “How come you never asked?”

“It's your business. If you wanted to talk about it... I mean, I'm here, if you want now.”

“I lost it nearly five years ago. It was-” A lump forms in his throat, and he looks down. Bloody damn, it still hurts.

“It's okay. Don't pressure yourself.”

“You remember I told you I went through a dark phase? Losing my hand was the start. And it's... connected to so many negative thoughts that I wanted hidden and tucked away. I rarely let people see it, even with- with that woman I was with, I never took the brace off fully.”

And he lets Emma see it. She breathes out slowly.

“So I just... wanted to thank you for your discretion. It means a lot to me, to be myself without having to worry about someone's nosy looks.”

“I know nosiness. I think sometimes we carry our pain on our faces too, and that can attract a similar, kind of way, nosiness.”

He finally looks at her.

“Prison teaches you a few things,” she admits.

“I've got to give it to you,” he says. “I don't know where I'd be now if I had gone in jail for that time for breaking and entering.” He purses his lips. “I'd probably still be in there. But you...” He points around her flat; he didn't know bail bonds agents make that much money, and she still gets to travel to Europe at least once every year.

“I started with a yellow Bug, don't forget,” she points out. “After a few too close hits, you just start going with what you have, you know?”

He does, very well so.

They finish their chocolates, and Emma takes his cup to put it on the coffee table with hers; she then sits back on the couch, and they just look at each other in the soft light from across the kitchen.

They don't take their eyes off each other when Emma wraps her fingers around his. She moves forward and captures his lips in hers, and he sighs at the way the chocolate tastes from her; it's the sweetest flavour and he can't complain. Besides, it's not just his lips that respond to that taste.

He turns a bit to the side, disguising his effort to hide his excitement as a way to wrap his other arm around her middle.

Emma holds his face, breathing hard into his mouth when their lips pull apart. She's damn near to push him back and climb astride him. His hand is on the small of her back and moves, dragging her shirt up a bit and she sighs at the touch of his fingers on her skin.

They pull away together, though still keeping close. Her hands go to wrap around his neck now, and he lowers his hand again, now resting on the fabric over her hips.

“Not ready yet,” she whispers.

He leaves one small kiss on the corner of her lips. A consolation, a tease, or a thank-you? She moves a bit, opening her eyes to look at him.

Holy hell, the way he just looks at her.

Look, look, look. She's too emotional and horny to remember why there's something haunting about that word.

She kisses him again, short but soft, then she moves again, settling her head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around her, hand resting on her shoulder, left arm resting on his lap.

She moves her hand slowly, giving him time, allowing him to see; he doesn't stop, doesn't move. Her hand rests over his blunted wrist, and she can feel him exhale deep. He leaves a soft kiss on her hair, and she has to close her eyes to stop the tears before they fall.

Maybe it's just her idea that something warm and wet seems to land on the crown of her head.

Killian shakes her awake about two hours later.

“Hey, love,” he tells her, and she straightens up lazily. “I think we might need to lie a bit more comfortably.”

He nearly shivers in his sleepiness; did he say too much?

“I think I hear your bed calling for you,” he says teasingly. There. That should do.

“Hmm,” she mumbles and presses her forehead on his shoulder, softly patting his other shoulder with her hand. “Goodnight,” she says. She stands up, grunting softly, then gives him one last look before she walks through her door, leaving it ajar.

Suddenly feeling sleepy but not sore from sleeping seated up with Emma's head on his shoulder, he lies down on the couch and looks at his left arm.

The way she touched it, held it... bloody hell, he'll start crying again. It was all he didn't know he needed. He wasn't sure what to expect in his days here, but he certainly didn't expect to feel that wonderful, so carefree, so loving and loved.

He loves her, and he's certain he feels her love. All from a simple touch, and not the one his body asked for, but the one Emma's soul offered.

Her soul. Her beautiful, wounded, caring soul.

Once again, he feels the spark of hope in his heart, the one that makes him want to put himself together again, to make himself worthy of such devotion.

He can only wish Emma already sees herself worthy of the same.

The days go by, quick but fulfilling. They still sleep in separate beds but they don't shy away from kisses. The feeling of that night carries over when they cuddle on the couch to watch each other's favourite films; Killian's right arm wraps around Emma's shoulders, and her hand reaches over to hold his left wrist.

They talk mostly about everything, allowing almost every thought out in the open, even about how they plan to continue. Maybe Emma will visit him in the summer, midway through her trip to Norway and/or back.

And, Killian thinks.

Maybe they can organize a vacation together.

“It's a shame there's really no middle for us to meet. Except Iceland, I guess,” Emma jokes.

There's one thing no-one comments on, even though it's the first time it happens for them both; usually, it was either stepping on poop or finding money on the street for, well, years at a time. It's the first time in their lives that both things may happen in the same day.

It's Killian's last morning in town; tonight he'll have to board a plane and hope his life won't fall apart again. Maybe third time's the charm.

They're walking down along a beach when they see a very young couple, probably teenagers even, run hand in hand to dive into the water, giggling as they do so. Killian turns to Emma and asks,

“I've been curious.”

“Hmm?”

“When was your first kiss?”

Emma huffs. First kiss in what way? “It's, uh... I guess you could say when I was eleven years old. It was in a game of spin the bottle, though I never got that boy's name.”

“That's a very specific memory.”

“Well, the whole thing kinda stuck with me. That was the luckiest day of my life.”

“How so?”

She smiles softly. “Ingrid adopted me.”

After a short pause, Killian says, “Spin the bottle, you said?” Then he stops walking. “When you were eleven?”

Emma turns to him, oblivious to his racing mind. “Yeah. Why?”

He's sure he must be looking at her like an idiot.

He is.

“Where were you living then?”

“Uh, still here. I was already living with Ingrid-”

“Emma, my first kiss was in a game of spin the bottle. In the summer of 1995, I was in Boston, I visited a friend's birthday party... and I kissed a blonde girl whom I never talked to.”

Emma's eyes widen. She shakes her head, but amusement bubbles in her, especially seeing Killian's face light up as well. “No way.”

Killian just huffs a laugh.

“You were my first kiss?!” Emma says, unable to contain her smile. “Oh my God! What were the chances?”

“Of all people!”

Emma shakes her head again and continues walking. “It would be crazy, but, since you lived in London first, you wouldn't happen to have been dressed as a pirate on Halloween of 2000, would you?”

For one single second, Killian is glad for all the difficult years that led to him being able to construct a cool, indifferent exterior. For half that second, it hits him how that was the day he considered his luckiest, when he got out of Silver's house and was moved to Nemo's... and it wasn't much later than that that Emma started getting into trouble, as she told him once.

He just shrugs. “No. Not much of a Halloween fan,” he says, struggling to keep his voice normal. He mentally screams at himself as Emma's brows furrow. What kind of an answer was that?! he thinks.

Could it really be?

“You'd wish you were that pirate boy,” Emma says in a teasing tone. “He was so shy but just the way he looked at me has stayed with me.”

“What were you dressed as?” he asks.

She flinches a bit, still awkward at the memory, but smiling. “A zombie princess.”

Fuck.

This time, not even the sight of the sea can calm his racing thoughts.

After the first time they met, Emma got adopted and Killian went through the worst time of his life. After the second, it was Killian's life who started going for the better while Emma struggled.

And then... then after they met in the concert, things were already bad for him, and probably good for her, and it switched. Immediately after they met, he thinks, as he remembers Emma's still cracked phone screen.

Emma notices how lost in thought he is, and maybe it wasn't as good an idea as she thought, to confess so much.

“Was that weird?” she says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“That we kissed when we were little.”

Killian wants to slap himself; her nearly worried face is little punishment for him right now. “No, no, no. I just...” The alternative thought that is also truth comes at him at the right moment. “I just thought that, today we will have one last kiss. For a little while, at least.”

Emma relaxes. “It doesn't have to be too long,” she says. “We can meet often and take it slow at the same time.”

Emma smiles, and Killian uses it as an excuse to keep her walking and her eyes hopefully away from his face. Words cannot describe how much he wants to both stop taking things slow and stop things entirely.

If it is true, if they've somehow been doing this to each other... he can't keep taking good things away from her.

And he's terrified to think that if she knows, she'll think the same.

He focuses on Emma and on making sure she doesn't get suspicious. He can act happy for a few more hours and pretend it's just that he'll miss her that gets him down, and not that he fears he'll have to stay away from her for good.

Despite his efforts, Emma notices his distress, but is none the wiser about the reasons. Is it because he felt weird about their first – very first – kiss, because he doesn't want to leave, or because he can't wait to?

She knows he's hiding something, and though she feels she knows him better than she'd know anyone else after just their few months of knowing each other, she can't read his mind.

Despite how much he can't seem to stop talking.

Killian tries to distract his thoughts by talking, and talking, and talking. It's halfway into the evening that he thinks it's as if he's compensating for later, for when he won't be able to tell her anything... because he'll have to cut himself out of her life.

On their ride to the airport, he allows the small heartbreak at the thought that he has to leave her. Emma is focused on the road and he looks outside his window. Used to the cars back home, he's thrown off at how he can't hold her hand when she's the one driving.

Emma keeps her eyes on the road, hands gripping hard on the wheel. Occasionally she throws glances at Killian, wishing the wheel was on the other side so they could hold hands.

Her worries disappear when they arrive one hour before his flight and he stays with her, talks to her and holds her until she has to practically push him to the airport checkpoint fifteen minutes before his gate opens.

“It's a big airport,” she tells him.

“But you know it well, and you said my gate is very close.” He gives her that smile again that makes her melt.

“It's your flight to miss.” She leans towards him. “I wouldn't mind having you stay longer.”

He lets out a short laugh and kisses her, and she can't help feeling a deep longing in his kiss; with his departure so soon, it doesn't feel out of place, and she reciprocates, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I'll miss you,” he says.

“Call me when you arrive,” Emma says. “No matter the time, I will have WiFi on.”

She smiles, but she sees the reserved one he gives her back. He gives her one last, short kiss, then he turns for the surprisingly empty queue for the checkpoint.

His back at her, he finally crumbles and allows himself to think. He started out lucky, she unlucky. It swapped when they met at that birthday party when they were eleven, then at that Halloween party when they were seventeen.

Then... when was it? When did they meet again?

It must have been in New York City, before Milah was killed. Was Emma there? She told him once how she was very lucky to get the job she has now and to reunite with her adoptive mother only four years ago. Those same years that he spent mourning Milah and despairing over Gold not paying for his crime.

Then it was when they met at the concert. And all these days... they've been both lucky and unlucky. It's like with them being together, their luck didn't know which one to choose to bless.

Every time they met, their luck swapped. And especially for him, that meant that someone he loved died. He was lucky this time, between the concert and coming here, so it's no doubt that when he goes back, he'll be unlucky once again.

And Nemo...

Killian drops his head. Is this a punishment for allowing himself to fall in love again? But it's been a cycle of change since... since they were born? They were born very close to each other, weren't they?

As slow as he took his steps, there was no queue in front of him and he's crossed the belt barrier corridor in seconds. He picks up a basket for his backpack and notices a twenty dollar bill lying in the basket underneath.

Killian looks at the security guard in front of him. He just shrugs at him, smiling slightly.

“Find a penny...” the guard says.

Killian's gaze freezes at the bill.

No. He wasn't supposed to be lucky this time.

How does it work? If it's not just them meeting, or travelling to each other's countries, then what determines where the luck will go?

He looks back at Emma, who's still standing where he left her. She appears confused, then she makes a 'what' gesture with her hand.

“Are you alright, sir?”

He turns to look at the guard, who's now looking at him worried.

Of course he'd be worried, instead of annoyed at him, as well as the people behind him in the queue.

He's lucky, after a meeting with Emma. How-

He's ducking under the belt barrier before his thought is even complete.

It was not just them meeting.

It was the one thing they shared every time – a kiss.

How could he forget? The thing that has haunted him since Milah died – that before she did, the last person he'd kissed was a stranger who had been just as drunk as him. Drunk enough to not remember him, and not recognize him when she met him again.

Emma.

Emma is still confused when he reaches her, but he immediately leans down to leave one single long kiss on her lips.

“Just this last one,” he says.

“For now,” Emma says softly.

Killian just nods, then turns away before he's tempted to say 'For good luck'. The less she knows about it, the better.

He doesn't turn around to look at her this time, certain that she'll see the despair on his face if he does.

#Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #piracytheorist writes

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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Helllooo May i request a fic where the reader is an art student in the university of oxenfurt and Jaskier come in as a model one day. She falls in love with him immidiatally and just cant stop painting pictures about him. Later Jask visits her in her studio and see all the stuff about himself. Then love confession( maybe he's been writing songs about her) and some soft kissing😇

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 2,099Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan a/n: This was a lovely prompt, I hope you like what I did with i!

“Hmm… I don’t think you’ve quite captured me.”

You shook your head and a little smile turned up the corner of your mouth but you kept your eyes focused on your canvas.

“You are supposed to be a model and models don’t speak,” you murmured quietly.

“I’m so bored though.”

You glanced up at the man who posed in front of you. Jaskier was hunched over, chin resting on his fist. He looked more pouting than pensive as he was supposed to be but the moment your eyes met, he perked up a bit.

There was no one else in the art studio since it was after hours, class having ended long ago. You’d been sick one day and Jaskier had graciously volunteered to come by and help you catch up on what you’d missed. You were in week three of the “month long strip tease” as he called it, taking a layer off each time. This week he was down to a loosely untucked chemise, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and pants whose laces were undone but still rested just at the hip. Boots were long gone, leaving him barefoot. Indeed, if anyone who walked by the doors saw him in his attire and you, a bit sweaty with disheveled hair, tired after a long day of classes made longer by this extra work, they would have assumed something unsavory was happening. They would have been tragically mistaken.

“You didn’t have to agree to this. Hell, it was your idea,” you reminded him, extending the handle of your paintbrush to gently position his chin back to where it was supposed to be. He playfully nipped at the brush but then moved back into position dutifully.

“Hmm, yes, and why do you suppose I did that?” he asked. It was the same flirtatious tone he used with everyone and you knew that, but still you felt a little shiver of excitement at the tone. Perhaps one day someone would use that with you and mean it but it wouldn’t be Jaskier, the traveling bard with a thousand muses around the globe. He had no need for a simple art student with barely enough life experiences to count on one hand. That would change when you graduated, though. You were determined. Though as the day came closer you grew more anxious about those barely conceived plans.

“You are a patron of the arts of course,” you replied, mixing the shades of blue together. You’d known the first day he walked into the classroom that those eyes would torment you as you tried to create the right shade to capture them. You knew you’d never feel you truly got it right and so far you’d been correct. You’d made far more paintings than the three you’d done for class. In your personal studio you had what appeared to be a shrine to the bard. You just couldn’t get him out of your head and your fingers itched constantly to paint him again, to try and capture his likeness better, more accurately.

“I suppose that must be it,” Jaskier said in somewhat plaintive tone. Yet when you looked back at him again he gave you a little wink and you stopped worrying, rolling your eyes again and setting to get the portrait done.

You were finished before another hour passed and though he tried to catch a glimpse you successfully hid it from him.

“I offered you a deal,” you said, “You show me the song you’ve been working on and I’ll show you the painting that I’m working on. A fair trade of artistic sampling.”

“Perhaps another time,” he said, “May I walk you home?”

Since meeting in that first class nearly a month ago the pair of you had struck up an easy friendship. In truth you felt much more than that for him but you were happy just for the chance to talk with him, much less anything else. He was brilliant and funny and endlessly encouraging. When you told him of your dreams of traveling he’d insisted that you do it and even offered to introduce you to some nobles who had a keen eye for artists they wanted to support. In all of that time, though, you’d never seen each other away from the sprawling campus of Oxenfurt University.

“Alright,” you said a little reluctantly, nervous but also unwilling to pass up a single opportunity to spend more time with him. He gallantly offered you his arm and the pair of you walked through the streets. It was twilight and lamplighters were roving about to light the lanterns that would keep you safe as you walked, the skies bathed in a soft golden and pink watercolor.

“Are you excited to be finishing classes soon?” Jaskier asked.

“I should be,” you said. He laughed, but not unkindly. It was a laugh of understanding.

“I felt much the same when I approached graduation,�� he said, “Sometimes I think that’s why I come back so often to lecture and just visit. I felt safe here.”

“Do you not feel safe out there?” you asked.

“No. But that’s part of the fun of it, right? The uncertainty, the potential for danger which makes it exciting,” he mused.

“I suppose so… But I do wish there was a way to both have adventures and be safe or at least feel safer,” you replied.

“Travelling with a witcher has helped a bit. You’re much harder to kill with one around,” he said.

“You’re also the target of more attacks though,” you countered. You’d heard him tell stories about his adventures to breathless students but you hadn’t joined in on their glee. Instead you’d grown more and more worried about the bard’s safety and whether you’d ever see him again once he’d left the school to join Geralt on his next hunt.

“Well there’s always a tradeoff,” Jaskier said glibly. You walked in silence for a time and when you reached your home you realized that at some point during the walk your hooked elbows had slid down to clasped hands. You both noticed at the same time and laughed a little nervously.

“Would you like some tea?” you offered instinctively, not wanting the moment to end. Jaskier eagerly agreed and followed you into your house. It was a humble place but he praised it as though it were a mansion, and he’d likely seen many in his time. Hell, as a viscount, perhaps he had even been raised in one.

“Make yourself at home,” you called as you walked to the little kitchen to get the fire going. Jaskier didn’t need telling twice, already walking around the room, looking at book titles and little drawings. He smiled at what appeared to be an early art piece of yours that had been lovingly framed by a family member, a drawing scrawled by a child that seemed to be… a dog? An elephant? Some animal. He continued to walk through the little house, glancing into the open door of your bedroom. There was a closed door and though he knew you probably would rather he didn’t, he couldn’t fight back his curiosity and opened the door.

—–

“Jaskier? Tea is ready! Jaskier?” you walked back into the little living area and saw no sign of him. You poked your head down the hall and almost walked back away, thinking he may have left suddenly, and then you saw a sliver of light coming from the door you knew had been closed. Your heart leapt to your throat and you ran towards it as though you could outpace what had already occurred.

There stood Jaskier, staring at a portrait you’d most recently completed, surrounded by sketches. Not all were of his entire face or body but you knew that he knew exactly whose disembodied hands and eyes and mouth and other randomly positioned angles of body they were.

“Fuck, ok, I can explain,” you began, heart beating a mile a minute. Jaskier turned to look at you but you didn’t see fear or disgust, just a soft look of surprise.

“Y/N?” he said.

He was giving you the chance to explain like you said you would but no words came to mind. You just stared at him blankly, panicking, feeling the walls close in around you.

“I think… I may be able to help,” he said. He walked past you and you waited to hear the front door open and close as he left, possibly to get the guards but most likely just to escape you. But then you heard him walk back, holding the leather notebook he drew in often but never showed you. He opened it to a page and handed the book to you, a nervous, expectant look in his pale, blue eyes. You took it with trembling fingers and at first you weren’t sure why he was showing it. Perhaps he thought that he should offer some exchange of art since he’d seen yours. Maybe he somehow didn’t recognize the man in the pictures as himself. Maybe this could all blow over and be nothing.

And then you saw your name.

“Jaskier what is this?” you asked, flipping the pages and finding more descriptions, not with your name specifically, but of a woman who sounded unmistakably like yourself.

“This is the bardic version of what this room shows, I believe,” he said, his voice soft, “They’re pieces dedicated to someone I have fallen very much in love with over the last few weeks.”

Your wide eyes tore away from the journal to meet Jaskier’s. Now he was the one who looked uncertain and scared, waiting for you to run from him.

“You don’t think it’s weird then?” you asked, gesturing to the room as you placed the journal on a shelf nearby, hands trembling too much to keep a secure hold of it.

“Oh no, it’s very weird. But love makes you do weird things. Like fill a journal full of half-formed songs about someone or stay late to pose for paintings or snoop in rooms you know you shouldn’t because you just can’t resist getting every little bit of them you can,” he replied, moving a bit closer and gently brushing his fingers against your cheek. Though he’d thrown on his doublet again the chemise was still unbuttoned and you rested your hands against his chest, fingers twining in the dark hair.

“Whoever said anything about love?” you teased, “I could just be incredibly enamored or perhaps a very artistic murderer.”

“Well I was speaking for myself mostly,” he answered, “But you’re right. I should be concerned. Shall I call Geralt to defend me against you and your wicked brush?”

“Ooh watch out, Jaskier, don’t sass me! You may find yourself having a brush with death,” you said, emphasizing the pun unnecessarily. Jaskier groaned and shook his head.

“Shut up and kiss me before I change my mind.”

You opened your mouth to make some other, terrible joke but he stopped you with a kiss, mouth brushing against yours with the barest touch but you recaptured his lips with yours and felt him card his hand through your hair as yours tightened against his chest. His kisses were soft and tender and nothing like what you’d expected the renowned rogue to offer but then the people who spread those rumors hadn’t known him like you did.

“Come with me,” Jaskier whispered against your lips.

“What?” you breathed back. His eyes found yours and you were struck again by the puzzling color. Was it blue? Or was it grey? Was it even the same thing all the time or did they change on you? You would spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out but oh what a happy quest.

“When you graduate you said you want to travel the world. You’re graduating soon. Come with me when you do. I’ll take you everywhere. I’ll show you the world. I can’t promise to keep you safe, there is always a tradeoff, but I will do everything I can and I promise you it won’t be boring,” he replied, words spoken in a hushed tone like someone offering a fervent prayer. You considered his words, thinking about the risks but more than that, thinking about the things that are worth taking risks for. And the people.

“Ok,” you breathed in response, “Yes. Take me with you. Show me everything.”

“Oh love,” he said, licking his lips which quirked into a wicked grin, “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier drabbles #jaskier imagines #jaskier fluff #reader request

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recurring-polynya · 5 years

Text

It is time for the most important meta I have ever done:

When, Exactly, Did Rukia and Renji Hook Up?

When we first meet Renji, he and Rukia haven’t spoken to each other in 40 years. Seven months after the Thousand Year Blood War Arc, they get hitched. We’re… we’re missing something. Somewhere in the middle there, they started kissing, and to be honest, it could have been anywhere. I’m gonna run through the possibilities and give my personal rating on their likelihood.

We will not be considering whether or not they hooked up prior to their separation, that is a topic for another time. Out of respect for your dash, I shall put all of this under a cut.

Let’s go:

1. Very Quickly. Just Right Away.

Look, this is not as unlikely as it seems. We know Renji already had Big Plans to resume contact. They had motive, for sure: A bunch of jail-related emotional tension. Rukia feeling Renji’s reiatsu go to dark not once, but twice. The Catch. Running down all those steps. ‘I’ll never let her go, you bastard.’ Unfortunately, all this ends with Renji getting carted off to the Coordinated Relief Station and Rukia fussing over Byakuya, so we can’t really imagine a big, romantic, off-panel “We lived!” smooch.

HOWEVER, we do get this (with bonus: Byakuya’s faaaaaaace):

Ichigo has lost Rukia, and the first person he asks is Renji. It would be generally in-character for Renji to reply with “How should I know where she is?” but he doesn’t, which implies that someone demanding Rukia’s whereabouts (in front of Byakuya, no less) of him is very normal and reasonable. He didn’t talk to her for 40 years, and within a week, he’s the go-to guy for finding her? Hmm. Hmmmmmmmm.

Likelihood: It could have happened. Look, I love slow burn, just, like, an unreasonable amount, but I am also utterly charmed by the idea that they’ve been apart so long that they decide not to waste any more time and just straight-up start making out in the waiting room while waiting for Byakuya to get out of surgery.

2. Between the Soul Society Arc and the Advance Team Arc

Something happened in this period, because when they show up in the Human World, they have all these...joint moves? Look at this adorable crap:

They’re always together and they... touch each other a lot? Also, look at this friggin’ smoulder!!!

Likelihood: Not actually very high, but I’m into it. The main thing that makes me skeptical here is that they actually act less like a couple in later storylines.

3. During the Advance Team/Hueco Mundo Arc:

Nah, brah.

For starters, they are only in the Living World together for about three days before Rukia goes back to Soul Society and A Lot happens during that time. There is a short period between when Rukia and Renji get recalled to Soul Society and when they show up in Hueco Mundo, but I imagine they were pretty busy sneaking around and also Rukia in particular was pretty stressed out about Orihime’s kidnapping, not very conducive to romance. Also, their dynamic doesn’t really change throughout this storyline. So either they were already hooked up, or it happened later, but it didn’t happen here.

Likelihood: Low.

4. During the Timeskip:

A lot of people go for this one, and it’s hard to argue with, because we’ve got a year and a half of not seeing them and when they show up again, it’s clear they’ve been Living Their Best Lives: Rukia has gone from unseated to Vice-Captain, and Renji has grown out his hair and started showing off his pecs.

The shinigami only show up at the tail end of the Fullbringer Arc, but even so, it’s clear that Renji and Rukia are close-- when Byakuya brings Rukia back from her fight with Riruka, he immediately hands her off to Renji, although to be fair, I feel like Byakuya hands things to Renji all the time when he’s tired of dealing with them. All the other captains go home at some point and they tell Rukia to stick around with Ichigo, and Renji just stays, too, without fanfare. Later, though we find out that Renji was the one who brought Ginjo’s body back to Soul Society (why is it utterly unsurprising that “moving bodies” a thing Byakuya makes Renji do???), so maybe he was sticking around for that.

Why am I so skeptical about this? Mostly because Renji is tremendously weird during the Fullbringer arc. First, he starts talking about what a nice guy the Captain-Commander is??? And then he gives that awful, terrible, ‘I don’t hit women’ speech while fighting Jackie. UGH I HATE IT.

There’s an episode of the Bount Arc where Rukia, who has been injured, gets out of bed and makes Renji take her to Ichigo’s fight where she then gives the Karakura kids a ten-minute speech about not interfering in other peoples’ fights. I honestly like to think that Renji has a bad head cold in the Fullbringer Arc, and he’s on the same medicine Squad 4 gave Rukia in that episode. It is the only explanation I will accept.

Likelihood: Sure, I guess? Insufficient evidence.

5. Before Thousand Year Blood War:

The first time we see them in this storyline, they are definitely Old Married Coupling it up:

After the Quincy show up and start taking names, both Ichigo and Byakuya worry about the both of them in one breath. They’re shown lying in the rubble together in dual shots, even though they’re halfway across the Seireitei from each other, and then they share a hospital room. Wait, what? They share a hospital room? Jeez, yeah, they’re together.

Likelihood: It’s highly likely that they’re together at this time, but I don’t see any particular evidence that it would happen after the Fullbringer Arc but before the TYBW. More like retroactive evidence for “in the timeskip.”

6. In the Royal Realm

Welp. This happened:

These pages are a goddamn gift.

They very awkwardly refer to each other as “a friend,” which indicates to me that they are not, in fact a couple at this point. I will extremely defer to anyone who has read this in the original Japanese.

BUT AFTERWARDS, they show up in matching outfits, and start wrecking people. God, I love them as a power couple. I love it when they swing into action together. I love that they trust and depend on each other enough to just be like, “Okay, babe, you take care of this guy, I’ll see you later.” I love it that they know each so well that they know each other’s weaknesses.

There’s a brief interlude where they split up so they can each have a big Signature Fight, but aside from that, they share panel time constantly up until the end of the arc, when Renji hauls Ichigo back onto his feet to go fight Yhwach. Renji’s speech to Ichigo makes more sense to me if Renji and Rukia did just get together in the Royal Realm, rather than having been together for some time.

Likelihood: It’s honestly hard to believe that they haven’t gotten together by this point, but they are both kinda boneheads. And narratively, I love the idea that they get together at this point. I’d say it’s my fav, but maybe they’re all my fav??

7. After the TYBW

We Do Knot Always Love You is lame.

There. I said it.

HOW is there an entire NOVEL about them getting married, and it is not romantic at all and we never find out how they got together and there’s no proposal scene and like, it’s funny that Byakuya can’t seem to process any of this, but it’s also profoundly UNSATISFYING?!!?

Anyway, I feel like WDKALY would have us believe they got together after the war, and I GUESS, but unless you’re willing to do the work of providing some romantic story out of it, this is the lamest possible point for them to get together. I disapprove.

Likelihood: Canonically, high. In my heart, very low.

So what is the upshot, Polynya? When did it happen?

The answer, friends, is that it is unknowable. In the epilogue timeskip, they basically haven’t changed at all. They’re just a couple of salty goobs who make eyes at each other all the time and express their love for each other by punching other people in the face. This is a huge part of what makes them so compelling to me-- you could write 1000 fanfics of them getting together at literally any time in their relationship, and it would work and be canon compliant.

Feel free to send me your opinions, I am willing to talk about this topic until I die.

#renruki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #bleach meta #otp #the infinite jest of bleach metaposts #this would have so many more pics if tumblr would let me #is this...a fanfic punch list?#if this isn't your jam please just move along

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argylemnwrites · 5 years

Text

Totally, One-Hundred Percent Brand New Information

Pairing: Maxwell & MC friendship; referenced Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (TRR Book 2, Chapter 14)

Word Count: ~1800

Rating: PG

Summary: When Maxwell stumbles upon something he was not meant to see, he’s forced to reevaluate his understanding of Riley and what she wants. Can he make her see that her happiness matters more than House Beaumont’s financial woes?

Author’s Note: Written for Day 12 of the Choices July Challenge (prompt - Revelation).

So, in TRR 3, chapter 1, Bertrand is shocked to discover that MC is in a relationship with Drake. Liam, of course, knows this fact, but Hana and Maxwell also don’t seem phased by this news at all. I’ve always headcanoned that the two of them independently figured out that something was going on between MC and Drake at some point along the way. This is how I imagine Maxwell figuring it all out. Plus, it’s fun to revisit TRR2, which I adore. For those of you who remember in It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment, when Maxwell burst out that he’d known Drake and Riley were together? This is the way he figured it out in that AU as well.

Maxwell licked his fingers as he savored his last bite of his slice of pizza. He knew that he was calling it a bit close with timing, but worst case scenario, Justin would meet Riley at her boutique appointment before the UN party. After listening to Riley practically wax poetic about the joys of New York style pizza since she found out they were headed back to NYC, Maxwell had just been craving a slice of cheese pizza so badly. And working all day with Bastien on Mission Track-Down-Tariq had definitely worked up an appetite. He deserved it; he earned that pizza.

He turned the corner as he headed back toward the hotel. If he hurried, he could freshen up and then catch a taxi to that boutique without being too late. Up ahead, near the waterfront, he spotted two familiar faces in the distance. He nearly yelled out to them, wanting to see what they were up to when he stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the scene ahead of him.

He almost felt like he was watching things in slow motion. He had to be imagining things. But after blinking several times, he still was staring at Riley and Drake, his hand disappearing somewhere in her hair, hers running up and down between his shoulder blades. Oh yeah, and they were kissing each other.

This couldn’t be happening. This was Riley and Drake. Riley and Drake. Riley and Drake. She wasn’t supposed to be making out with him. She was in love with Liam, wasn’t she? Weren’t they working so hard to clear her name so that she could finally be with him? And wouldn’t her hooking up with his best friend make things awkward when she and Liam got back together? Or was Maxwell himself just really out of the loop here? I mean, it’s not like something casual would stop Liam and Riley from being endgame, and his matchmaking skills from finally being recognized. Plus, everyone needed to blow off steam now and then, although this must have been going on for a hot minute, because unless Drake had way better game than his grumpy old man persona would suggest, there was no way that this was their first kiss.

“Yeah, this definitely has been going on for a while,” Maxwell thought to himself as he watched them continue to make out. The real question became why neither of them had told him. Drake he could pretty well understand. That guy was so closed off and secretive. It’s not like Maxwell could really picture him being the type to kiss and tell under any circumstances. But Riley... well he thought they were super duper close. After everything they had been through together, why wouldn’t she have mentioned her fling to him?

As if the couple in the distance had some telepathic connection to his thoughts, they pulled apart just barely, Drake pressing his forehead against Riley’s. That gesture said it all. It was tender and gentle. This wasn’t lust; this was love. And that explained a hell of a lot about why Riley hadn’t talked to him.

Or rather why she hadn’t tried to talk to him again. Because the little voice in his head that sounded a lot like Bertrand piped up, “Back during the social season, didn’t she tell you she had feelings for someone else? And didn’t you basically ignore that and try to tell her that her feelings were all for Liam?” Had she really been falling for Drake for months now and not told him about it just because of his comments way back then?

So many things made sense now. Drake coming back to their train car at weird hours looking some odd combination of thrilled yet guilty as hell. Riley always gravitating towards Drake when they hung out as a group. Drake tagging along to more things with the whole group in general. Maxwell was usually good at reading people. How could he have missed that two of his closest friends had fallen in love with each other?

Maxwell wondered if anyone knew about Drake and Riley. They were clearly keeping things a secret. He could guess at Drake’s reasoning there. When this all came out, things between him and Liam were gonna be a mess. And knowing Drake, he probably was just rolling along, hoping that somehow this would all shake out without causing too much drama. Either that, or he was convinced that Riley was gonna choose Liam over him in the end anyway. After all, Maxwell knew of at least five women from back in the day who had actively seduced Drake to gain access to Liam, back before Drake started questioning everyone’s motives, or at least back when he wasn’t so aggressive in questioning them.

But why would Riley keep this quiet? Maybe she was conflicted, torn between Liam and Drake? But even as a passing thought, that didn’t seem quite right. Thinking back over the engagement tour, Riley had often chosen to spend time with him, Hana, and Drake, turning down more and more invitations from Liam as time went on and seeming more reluctant to spend time alone with Liam than she had before. Maxwell had assumed that she was just nervous that they wouldn’t clear her name in time as the wedding got closer, but with this new information, he now had a better explanation. She didn’t want to be alone with Liam. She wanted to spend time with the guy she actually was interested in. It all seemed so clear now, other than the fact that she apparently didn’t want anyone to know she was into Drake.

Or maybe she just didn’t want him to know. After all, he and Bertrand had made it pretty clear that they could use the financial boost that would come from their pick being named queen. Did she really think that he would value some money over her happiness, though? Didn’t she know that he had come to love her like a sister. “Not after the way you responded to the mere suggestion that she might be interested in anyone besides Liam, you imbecile,” his Bertrand head-voice chimed in. Ahh, crap.

He needed to fix this. If Riley and Drake wanted to be together, then they should be together. The more Maxwell thought about it, the more he liked the idea of them together. Riley seemed to have a way of teasing Drake, getting him to lighten up and enjoy himself now and then without putting him on the defensive. And Drake could match Riley’s snark and sarcasm in a way that Liam never ever could hope to achieve. Maxwell knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Riley and make sure she understood that her happiness was the only thing she should consider in her love life.

Not wanting to run into the two of them as they made their way back to the hotel, Maxwell spun around and flagged down a taxi, deciding he would just meet Riley and Justin at the boutique. But when Riley got there, Justin’s presence made it hard to have a heart to heart with her. Maxwell resigned himself to waiting until the next morning to have this chat. After all, he could bring her breakfast when he woke her up, maybe get her to confide in him again. But later that night, when they were tucked away in at a table in the corner together at the UN party, chatting about clearing her name and finding Tariq, Riley handed him a golden opportunity.

“That’s not… Even if we find Tariq, you never know what’ll happen. So what happens if I don’t become queen? ”

This was it. She was feeling him out again, trying to gauge his reaction now, months after he had shot her down. Her more subtle approach was obvious, edging toward the topic instead of diving straight in like she did when he told her that she was just confused, that she must only be interested in Liam.

“I just want to know that you and Bertrand… and Savannah and little Bartie… will be okay,” she continued, seemingly fascinated with her whiskey sour, clearly avoiding eye contact with him. He had to ease her mind, let her know that she was more than a ticket to House Beaumont financial stability.

“You know me. I’ll breakdance my way to success. Or maybe become a magician! Hmm… or I could be a best-selling author…”

“Maxwell…”

Alright, light-hearted reassurances were not working. She was clearly torn up over this. Time to change tactics.

“Right, uh… As for Bertrand… He’s kinda figuring things out right now, I think. But, Riley… When I invited you to Cordonia… I liked you, but I didn’t know you. I saw how Liam looked at you and thought maybe I could help him and set things right for House Beaumont. I didn’t know things would be this hard.” The rest of his thoughts he left unsaid, “I didn’t know you would fall in love with someone else along the way. I didn’t know you would have to hide your true feelings for the one person who should be your biggest source of comfort while your name was dragged through the mud.”

“Maxwell, you couldn’t have.”

“I know, just… What I’m trying to say is that the way things are with House Beaumont… That’s for me and Bertrand to fix, not you. I don’t want you to be unhappy because of us...”

He hoped his message was clear - go be happy with Drake. She looked up from her drink with a small smile. He couldn’t tell if she knew that he knew based on his words, but he hoped she did. She was easily one of his best friends on the planet, and he only wanted the best for her.

“Oh, Maxwell… It… means a lot to hear you say that.”

Alright, she got what he was saying. And as glad as he was that he could clear the air here, he wanted to be one-hundred percent sure she understood he was sorry for the way he reacted back all those months ago.

“I… I never meant to make our problems your problems. If you don’t marry Liam… I’m sure Bertrand will find another way.”

Riley paused for just a moment before she responded, “Thank you, Maxwell… Come on, let’s head back to the party.”

So she clearly wasn’t ready to openly confide in him just yet, but that was okay. As long as she understood that he was here for her, on her side no matter her choice, he could wait until she was ready to tell him everything. And when she did, he promised himself he would show her and Drake all the enthusiasm they deserved.

Tags: @dcbbw @mfackenthal @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @kinda-iconic @choicesjulychallenge

#maxwell beaumont #drake walker #drake x mc #maxwell & mc friendship #trr #choices trr #the royal romance #trr fanfic #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices july challenge

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jazztripp · 5 years

Text

Belated Birthday Gift!

For the stinkiest peach ever @momosweetpeach, this was supposed to be a birthday present but time had gotten away from me! But I hope you like it anyways!

Rated: T (sorry no smutt this time around. Just took rotting fluff) Harpy!Max AU Their relationship is already established in this one. Also not beta’d so sorry for errors.

Spring was probably Wilsons favorite season. Sure it was a bit wet, but there was something wonderful about being able to stroll around and not have to worry about food or dying from the harsh elements of the other seasons.

Not that spring didn’t come without it’s own challenges, but they were minute compared to the blistering heat of summer and the terrible cold of winter.

Although Wilson was probably alone in this feeling.

Maxwell hated spring. His perpetual scowl was even more severe come the wet and rainy season, and while Wilson understood his plight, he also found it really funny.

Because it wasn’t exactly the season that Maxwell hated; it was all of the rain. The poor bird-man didn’t do well when he was wet. His feathers came with a certain degree of waterproofing, but he was no duck. Water collected in his soft downish feathers eventually and clung to his too-thin body, making him cold and weighing him down enough to where flying was difficult.

Today, thankfully, was one of the rare dry days of spring and both men were taking full advantage. Wilson busied himself with harvesting the bountiful resources that littered the constant while Maxwell replenished their food stores with the small animals he managed to catch.

Wilsons pack was only half full despite the day coming to its end, and that was okay. They had plenty of resources at the moment to sustain them, so it was no emergency rush to gather, so Wilson was taking his time. The soft cool breezes tickled his hair and lifted his spirits, and he simply couldn’t pass up a little time to relax.

All around him he could hear Maxwell terrorizing the local fauna and it made Wilson smile. Maxwell rarely had fun, but it seemed like he was enjoying himself.

Wilson called to him, knowing full well that the bird-man would be able to hear him.

“Hey Maxy! Find anything good?”

A harsh fluttering came to him ears a few moments later as Maxwell took a perch on a nearby boulder. Weirdo loved being up higher than Wilson even if it was only by a few feet.

“Hmm a few things. Frogs mostly,” despite his obvious good mood, Maxwell still spoke as if everything was making his life unnecessarily difficult. Everything was either a sigh or a grumble.

“Well it’s better than living off of old corn,” Wilson supplied. Last winter they had a metric fuckton of the stuff and Wilson was ready to never look at corn ever again.

“You can say that again,” Maxwell said with a sneer. “Next winter we are stocking up on more preservable things, yes?”

The lanky man hopped down from his perch and folded in his wings as he took in stride along Wilson. Surprised, but genuinely happy, Wilson took up step right beside him and case him a warm smile.

“Definitely. I think I’ve figured out how to pickle things properly. By the end of spring I think I’ll finally be able to get us some pickled eggplant. How does that sound?”

Maxwell humphed, but his back feathers puffed up in anticipation.

“Anything is better than corn.”

At that Wilson laughed. He had no idea why Maxwell could never voice his opinions in a positive manner. It was an odd tick that used to bother Wilson, but now he found it endearing how obnoxiously stubborn the other man was. It wasn’t that hard to just say, ‘Yeah I like that idea’ and move on with the conversation. Everything had to be a negative or a play on words. You had to look into everything the man said. It should have been taxing, but it really wasn’t.

Maxwell was easier to read than most people realized.

On impulse, Wilson ran his fingers over the soft feathers on Maxwells upper arms. Back in the day this would have earned him a wingslap to the face, but now Maxwell didn’t seem to mind. His fingers came away with a couple feathers, and he held them close to his face to examine them.

“You’re moulting again?” Wilson asked as he ran his fingertip over the soft edges.

“Moulting still,” Maxwell corrected. “It comes and goes until it’s all gone come summer. It doesn’t all just fall off in one fell swoop, you know.”

It was a funny image to picture. Just sudden poof, naked Maxwell. Bald and furious.

“What’s so funny, Higgsbury?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he assured through a few chuckles. Maxwell didn’t seem convinced, but he let it drop.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the company. They basically lived together but it was actually very rare to spend this much time together like this. Wilson had his farms and his science projects to attend to, and Maxwell was a very lonesome fellow and often preferred to keep to himself.

Maxwell would go out and hunt for food or perch up high to keep an eye on Wilson while he worked their modest crop field.

They were usually within earshot of each other, but always doing their own thing, so this was nice.

“You need to shave,” Maxwell said rudely ruining the silence.

Wilson snorted and took Maxwells impressive clawed hand into his and played with the talons.

“It still gets cold at night Maxwell. Unlike you I don’t come with a layer of insulation, and since you refuse to sleep with me I have to make due.”

Maxwell eyed him with barely masked irritation.

“You know I hate the tent, Higgsbury. Damn thing is worse than a cage.”

“Thats a vast overreaction, and you know it. Besides you know if I sleep outside I’ll probably die of exposure so it seems we are at an impasse.”

It was an old argument, so Wilson just gave his automatic response. He was more interested in Maxwells impressive claws. He always wondered what exactly they were made of. Probability pointed to them being made of keratin just like all other forms of claws and nails, but Maxwells were just so thick it was easy to speculate if they were made of something else. Perfectly curved and black as charcoal, they were nearly as impressive as the ones of Maxwells feet.

Now those were a sight. Using his weight and impact to crush small prey, Wilson has watched Maxwell crush and shred through small animals like they were nothing on more than one occasion.

Once, during a particularly desperate time right after a harsh winter, Wilson helped Maxwell take down a Beefalo. They had been starving. The cold kept rabbits and other foodstuffs at bay for far too long into fall, and once Wilsons ribs started to show Maxwell had had enough. It had been his idea, and while Wilson was adverted to putting his lover in danger he went along with it because he was literally starving.

He’d never seen Maxwell act so vicious. Shrieking and clawing at the beast back while Wilson tried his best to spear something vital, it was a hard fought victory.

As they ate Wilson admitted that the display of violence was probably the most attractive thing he had ever witnessed.

Maxwell had blushed and gave a rare smile full of pride.

“Where did you go, Higgsbury?”

Maxwells voice snapped him out of the fond memory and the steamy night that had followed.

“Huh?” he looked up, finding a soft look in Maxwells eyes.

“Are my claws that interesting?” He teased, taking his hand back and hooking said claws in Wilsons messy hair. He gave an attempt to comb it, careful to not let the sharp tips prick him.

“Heh, all of you is interesting, Maxwell. You know I enjoy studying you.”

Maxwell hummed, gently picking a leaf out of Wilsons sideburn.

“Yes I’m very well aware. You’ve been poking and prodding me since we started spending more time together. I still don’t understand your fascination.”

Wilson laughed, the soft picking becoming ticklish and he pushed away those tactile claws.

“Have you considered the possibility that you, Maxwell, are in fact very interesting?” Wilson teased and pushed their shoulders in close so that he could feel the warmth of the other man through his feathers. They had stopped walking at some point.

Maxwell scoffed but this close he couldn’t hide the soft color that came to his cheeks.

“You only find me interesting because there is nothing better around. Remember that albino beefalo? I didn’t see you for months.”

Wilsons eyes misted.

“It…was so cute Maxwell. Could you blame me?….Poor Snowball…”

Maxwell scoffed again, oblivious to the other mans distress and started walking again toward the treeline back toward camp.

“It was a sticking beast. Get a hold of yourself Higgsbury,” Maxwell called back, stretching his wings up and back in an attempt to look bigger.

Maxwell always insisted that the gesture was simply to stretch but Wilson knew better. Maxwell always took every opportunity to show off in Wilson presence, and Wilson always took full advantage.

It was always so nice to see the powerful flight muscles that rippled just below the feathers of Maxwells back.

As they came back into their camp, Wilson was still distraught over the murder of his poor beloved beefalo. Damn hounds got to it. White was a very stand out color.

Go figure.

But he snapped out of it when he head an indignant squawk from up ahead.

“You little bastards!”

“Maxwell?” he called, concerned and broke out into a jog.

As he broke the treeline he gasped at the state of the place. Littered about the camp was the remains of his tent, the science machine lay broken into dozens of pieces, and a few of the chests had been ripped open and their contents scattered about.

Gripping his hair with both hands, Wilson willed himself not to cry as his poor creations lay broken and useless.

Pigmen normally weren’t a problem to he and Maxwell in the slightest, but a wandering few had decided that their camp was a good raiding ground. By the sounds of the terribly squealing in the woods ahead, they were already regretting it.

The urge to help was high, Maxwell wasn’t invincible after all, but the devastation of seeing all of this seasons hard work destroyed was affecting Wilson more than usual.

Even as Maxwell came out of the woods, flushed and furious, Wilson was still staring at the carnage. Ugh this would take all season to fix! And they were finally doing so well too!

“I slaughtered two, but the third got away. Hopefully he’ll tell his friends,” Maxwell said proudly, still baring his sharp teeth in his irritation.

It ebbed a bit, though, when Wilson didn’t answer.

“Higgsbury?” Maxwell approached, eyeing his lover as if he were weary of an outburst. Ridiculous seeing as Wilson would never take his aggression or feelings out on his lover.

“They…God they broke everything! Those…those…bumbling assholes!” Wilson growled and kicked a shattered piece of wood. It went satisfyingly far.

“And it’s almost night! Ugh where am I gonna sleep! I’m sure the furs are all filthy from their feet too,” Wilson all but whined as he gestured to the skeletal remains of his poor tent, and to the rumpled furs that once lined the inside.

Maxwell hummed, his ire dying down completely in the presence of his mates distress.

“We’ll fix the tent tomorrow,” he started as he approached the tattered tent and retrieved the blankets and furs. “These are relatively undamaged,” he called to Wilson, and he sighed in relief at that.

“Well…guess I’m outside with you tonight huh? I’ll….start cleaning up I guess.”

Wilson was mad, oh so mad! But there was nothing to be done now. Maybe they needed to invest in some walls in the future. He knew that Maxwell would love having high walls to sit on, and maybe a complicated gate would deter pigs until the stupid animals got the hint that the camp with the temperamental harpy was not to be messed with.

Regardless it took the rest of the evening to even get the camp somewhat back into shape and take stock of everything that needed to be replaced. It wasn’t as much as he initially realized, but it was still enough to set them back a few weeks. Thankfully the lock that Wilson had made to go around their fridge was too complicated for the pigmen. Their food was thankfully still intact. (And replenished even further by the poor pigs that Maxwell had ripped to pieces for their blunder.)

As the sun began to set, Wilson got to work making a good fire in case the night became chilly. Judging by the temperature now, it was safe to say that it was going to get quite cold. Wilson contemplated getting out some of his winter gear for the night but Maxwell assured him that there would be no need.

“Here. It’s not your precious tent but it will do for the night, yes?” Maxwell said as he gestured to what had been keeping him busy while Wilson tidied up.

Wilson hadn't actually noticed what the bird-man had been up to, but as he looked up it became immediately obvious what he was looking at.

He let out a little breathless laugh, oddly touched as he approached the obvious nest-shaped blankets stacked all cozy under a tree. Close enough to the fire for warmth, but also sheltered in case it started to rain in the night.

“For me?” Wilson asked and Maxwell nodded. Of course it was for him, but he still loved the confirmation regardless.

“No need to look so elated…its just a nest…” Maxwell mumbled, obviously not sure how to take Wilsons delight.

Wilson didn’t care, though, and took the gesture for what it was. Maxwell was taking care of him in the best way he knew how, and that was all that mattered. He took off his boots and took a seat in the surprisingly spacious nest and beamed up at the bird-man.

“Thank you. I love it,” he exclaimed and watched as the feathers on Maxwells shoulders gently fluffed.

“I’m….glad,” Maxwell cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot.

“Are you gonna join me?” Wilson asked after a moment. “You made this plenty big for two.”

It must have been something that the older man was waiting for because he wasted no time hopping into the nest right alongside Wilson. His enthusiasm made Wilson laugh, and after a moment or two of shuffling Wilson was comfortably laying down with his head resting lightly on Maxwells thigh. In that moment the bony man was suddenly the best pillow in the constant.

“If I hadnt known better….I’d think that you planned this,” Wilson teased, his earlier bad mood completely gone as their warmth mingled together.

Beside him Maxwell snorted.

“Of course not…though I cannot deny the appeal of you occupying a nest of my own creation. Deeply satisfying.”

Curious, Wilson turned his head to look at Maxwell. The other man was looking at him with an expression that did indeed look satisfied. It made Wilson smile.

“Well I’m happy you made it for me…You do alot for me and I don’t know if I even express how truly thankful it makes me.”

Maxwell shifted to free his hand so that he could go back to picking at Wilsons hair as he spoke.

“You say it plenty…I’d do it even if you weren’t thankful, Higgsbury.”

Wilson laughed, leaning into the touch.

“I bet you would complain a hell of alot more, though.”

Maxwell smirked, the nighttime reflection of his eyes catching the firelight and making them glint.

“Yes. Yes I would. Now go to sleep. We’ll set about fixing everything in the morning when it’s cool enough to work. I’ll even help you,” Maxwell added as if it were an afterthought, making Wilson snort.

“Ah the Great and Powerful Maxwell has offered my help. I’m forever in your thanks.”

Whether he had actually caught onto the sarcasm or not was a mystery because Maxwell neither looked affronted or amused.

Instead he replied with a calm, “You’re welcome,” and got comfortable as he continued to muss the scientists hair. It was easy to fall asleep like that, and for once he didn’t mind sleeping out under the stars. Maybe he should invest in some kind of…open air tent? Something like that. He could really get used to sharing a nest with Maxwell every night, and he was pretty sure that Maxwell would feel the same if he could nail the design.

He already had a few ideas in his head as the gently petting put him straight to sleep.

#maxwil #harpy maxwell #dont starve #dont starve together #dst #maxwell #wilson

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

Their Way By Moonlight: Witch Fight (Chapter 11)

In which there is an EPIC WITCH FIGHT, a clever Henry, and a touch of non-dream smut.

a/n: My notes for this chapter were literally EPIC WITCH FIGHT. I only hope I’ve pulled it off.

Summary: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time the Saviour is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from her son and anyone else who might help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Hook are soulmates, working together within their shared dreams to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from the clutches of evil yet again. (Alternate 3B, set in the What Dreams May Come universe)

Rating: A hard M

Tagging: @teamhook @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @thejollyroger-writer @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @bonbonpirate @lfh1962 @laschatzi @katie-dub @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @winterbaby89 @thisonesatellite

Anyone wishing to be added to or dropped from this tag list, please do say so.

Read it on AO3

Witch Fight:

“Let’s go get our son.”

Regina raised her hand to poof them away but before she could touch her magic Emma gripped her arm. “Wait!”

“What now?” snarled Regina.

Emma’s brow was furrowed in thought. “Where are you getting your magic from?” she asked.

Regina hesitated, frowning. “There’s magic in Storybrooke,” she said. “Can’t you feel it?”

“I can,” replied Emma, “But it feels… weird. Not like the magic that was here before.”

Regina closed her eyes and let herself fully sense the magic that surrounded her. “You’re right,” she said grudgingly. “There’s something not quite right with it. I can’t explain it, but it’s just… off.

“Like the town itself,” said Killian. “And the forest.”

“Yes, exactly. Superficially the same but if you look closer it’s just wrong.”

“Where does it come from?” asked Emma. “The magic, I mean. I thought that under the first curse there wasn’t any magic in Storybrooke.”

“There wasn’t, that was the whole point. Rumple brought it here after you broke the curse.”

“Yeah, I remember the cloud. And the dragon.”

“Exactly. That was why he wove your parents’ true love into the curse in the first place. It made you the saviour, and when you broke the curse it allowed him to bring magic to this land.”

“So if there’s been magic here all along with this curse, then that means magic is... part of the curse somehow, in a way that it wasn’t part of the first one,” said Emma, thinking hard. “I don’t think you should use that magic, Regina. We don’t know where it’s from or what it might do—”

“Zelena controls it,” Regina broke in. “She told me, she can sense when it’s being used.”

Emma nodded, as if this confirmed her theory. “And that means she can probably track it.”

“What do you mean, track it? That’s not how magic works—”

“It’s how this magic works,” insisted Emma. “You know that big green necklace Zelena wears?” Regina and Killian both nodded. “It always struck me as odd, and now that I have my memories back I know why. That thing is not just gaudy jewellery, it’s a magical amulet. It’s used to store magic.” She looked at Killian. “Like the one Frank wanted me to create.”

“Hmm, yes,” said Killian, recalling that conversation. “I can see why you wouldn’t wish to wear something like that.”

“And just who is Frank?” snapped Regina.

“He—” Emma hesitated. There was no time for the full story of who and what Frank was, especially with Regina in what was clearly a mood. “He was my magic teacher in New York. He’s the one who taught me how to find magic there, how to use it and how to store it in my ring.”

“Who the hell could have taught you—”

“Look, it’s not important, Regina! What’s important is that if Zelena controls Storybrooke’s magic, if she stores it in that amulet, then that means she can sense when and how it’s being used, and with a little effort trace that use.”

Killian’s face was grim as the meaning of her words sank in. “Which means she can find where we left Henry,” he said.

“Yeah. And track Regina wherever she goes. I don’t think you should use that magic, Regina.”

Regina looked furious, clearly struggling against the logic of Emma’s argument. “So what, I’m supposed to be powerless—” she protested.

“No. You can use my magic.”

Regina stared at her. “Light magic.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“I can’t use light magic.” Regina crossed her arms over her chest, her expression no longer angry. She looked stubborn and wary, and almost scared.

Emma could tell there was no point in trying to change her mind and there was certainly no time. “Okay, fine, we’ll argue about that later. Tell me where Henry is and I’ll poof us there.”

“He’s at your parents’ loft,” said Killian, who was clearly as impatient as she. “Or what was their loft, during the first curse. Now it’s— well, you’ll see.”

“Okay,” said Emma. “Let’s go see.”

She raised her hand and they were enveloped in a cloud of pure white.

---

The previous night:

Henry grabbed another book from one of the shelves in his dad’s shop and took it over to the sofa, heaving a sigh as he sat down and opened it in his lap. His dad and mom —no, Killian and Regina; he was really going to have to come up with some way of differentiating his various parents in his head, especially if they were going to start working together in weird pairings like this— Killian and Regina were sitting at the desk, their heads together as they worked out the details of their plan. Killian had given Henry the outline of it, ignoring Regina’s sharp protests, but both his currently present parents had agreed that he didn’t need to know the nitty-gritty of what they had in mind.

Henry scowled. It wasn’t fair. He was thirteen years old and he’d already helped break one curse. He’d survived Neverland and memory loss and he’d been right at Killian’s side through all the planning and preparation of the last year. Of course he knew that there were things Killian still kept from him —at least some of which he was pretty sure he did not want to know too much about— but surely he was old enough and had done enough now for them to trust him with some real responsibility.

He glared at the pages of the book, skimming the words, looking for any information about the Wicked Witch or Oz or her magic, but there was very little. Everything interesting was in the books currently stacked in a neat pile on the desk in front of Killian. Sighing again, louder this time —they still didn’t hear him— he turned another page and his eyes widened. Magical Weapons: Their History, Mythology, and Use proclaimed the chapter heading.

“Cool,” breathed Henry, curling his legs under him and beginning to read, his teenage pique momentarily forgotten as he got lost in research.

---

The white smoke whirled away and Emma, Killian, and Regina were standing in the middle of the loft, which was… now just an old, disused warehouse, thought Emma, looking around. Apparently under this curse it hadn’t been converted into apartments. There were stacks of crates lined against the wall where her mother’s kitchen had been, draped in sheets of plastic that had once been clear but were now grey with dust, and the floor beneath their feet crunched with bits of old plaster that had crumbled away from the ceiling and walls. Zelena stood before the smudged and dirty windows of the former living room clearly awaiting their arrival, her posture triumphant and Henry clasped tightly in her grip, an odd, double-edged knife pressed against his throat.

“Nice of you to join us, Regina, Captain,” she said gleefully. “And the Sheriff as well, how lovely. I expect this must all be rather confusing for you, dear—”

“Not at all,” said Emma coolly. “I know exactly what’s going on.”

Zelena’s eyes narrowed. “Memories returned, then. The Captain continues to surprise me. It’s such a shame that even after all his determined efforts I still got to your son first. You see, I can—”

“You can sense the traces of magic use in Storybrooke so you knew some had been used here. Yeah, we know that already,” interrupted Emma. “I also know you can’t hurt Henry with magic. I left—”

“Protection spells around him, yes, I know that already,” hissed Zelena. “Similar to the ones you put around the Captain, by the way they’re behaving. Too bad they won’t protect him from my knife!” She pressed the weapon harder against Henry’s throat and the boy winced as a thin line of blood began to seep from his skin.

Emma heard Killian’s snarl and felt the magic in the room ripple as Regina’s fingers twitched and knew that both were on the edge of doing something rash. “Wait,” she said, squeezing Killian’s hand in hers and putting her other one on Regina’s arm. “Let me handle this.”

She called on her magic, drawing it from the deep reserves in her ring and ignoring the pull on her senses exerted by the dark magic emanating from the green amulet. Zelena would be counting on Emma using that magic, magic she controlled. She would think there was no other choice. She wouldn’t be expecting this.

Emma wrapped tiny tendrils of her magic around the dagger in Zelena’s hand, weaving them together to strengthen them and subtly blunting the sharp edge pressed to Henry’s throat. The dagger was exceptionally sharp and made of hard-wrought metal but with effort Emma was able to wrap enough magic around it that she wouldn’t accidentally cut Henry. Then with a wave of her arms and a heave of her magic she ripped the blade from Zelena’s grasp, sending it flying across the room.

“What?” shrieked Zelena, and Henry took advantage of her surprise and lack of weapon to dig his elbow into her ribs and pull free from her. He stumbled away, clutching his throat, as Killian and Regina ran to catch him. Emma kept her focus on Zelena, trusting them to make sure Henry was okay, holding her magic at the ready and sparking from her fingertips.

Zelena’s lip curled. “Very impressive, Saviour,” she spat. “Where are you getting your magic from?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Emma taunted.

Fury flashed in Zelena’s eyes, sharp and dangerously unhinged. “It hardly matters,” she sneered. “You’re still no match for me.” Green light flashed and crackled through the room as she flung a beam of it at Emma, who threw up her hands just in time to deflect it and force it back towards the other woman. They struggled wordlessly for several minutes, each trying to push her magic onto the other until Zelena stumbled on a piece of broken brick and lost her footing, sending her green jet flying into the pile of crates and splintering them into fragments. Emma stumbled herself when the resistance she’d been pushing against abruptly vanished, regaining her balance just in time to dodge the next bolt of green Zelena shot at her, spinning nimbly to avoid it before flinging back a white one of her own.

Killian watched them battle, fist and jaw clenched, thinking he had never in all his centuries of life felt so thoroughly useless. It was clear to him that Emma and Zelena were near perfectly matched in strength and skill, trading the advantage back and forth but neither able to hold it long enough to secure a victory. Emma needed help, and there was nothing he could do to help her. He wanted to punch something.

Frank’s words from just a few days before echoed in his mind yet again, words that seemed to take on a new shade of meaning each time he recalled them.

(…The Caster is as powerful in darkness as the Saviour is in light, and without intervention they will ever remain locked in stalemate. To break this curse the Saviour must have aid from her true loves. Both of them…)

But what could he or Henry do? Neither of them had magic, and despite hours of research the night before, despite all his remarkably comprehensive selection of magical literature, they simply didn’t have enough information about Zelena to know if there was any other, non-magical way they could fight her.

He looked at his son, noting the way Henry’s own small fists were clenched, the distress and frustration in his eyes as he watched his mother dodge and shoot, at the way he held tight to Regina—

Wait.

Regina.

Killian and Henry may not have magic, but they had influence over someone who did.

He spun around, grabbing the Queen by the arm and shooting Henry a look that clearly said Back me up, lad.

“Regina,” he said urgently, “You’ve got to help her.”

She pulled her arm from his grip and shot him her most regal glare. “Don’t be stupid, pirate, you know I can’t. Zelena controls the magic—”

Killian was having no more of that. “She controls her magic, not Emma’s.”

“And I can’t use light magic.”

Henry jumped in, his expression eager. “But you can, Mom!” he cried.

Sorrow broke across Regina’s face as she turned to her son and her voice broke when she responded. “Henry, no, I can’t. You know what I am—”

“What you were,” insisted Killian, willing her to remember their conversation from the previous night. “Not what you are.”

“You’ve changed, Mom!”

“Look at what you’ve sacrificed in this past year,” Killian pressed. “Nearly everything you had. And for what reason? For love. For your son.”

“You would never have done that if you were really bad!” Henry’s eyes implored her, and Regina hesitated.

“You couldn’t love like that, selflessly, unless there was some light in you,” said Killian, striking the final blow.

Regina was shaking her head but her expression was conflicted. “I can’t,” she insisted in a whisper, almost to herself. “Emma’s magic is so pure.”

“But you can feel it, right?” asked Henry. “Emma’s magic?”

“Yes—”

“Mom, don’t you know what that means? If you can feel it you can use it. Zelena’s got no idea where it’s coming from, she’s too dark to even sense it, but you can.”

Regina didn’t move but she seemed to reach out, feeling for something before drawing back with a gasp. “It— it hurts to touch it,” she said. “But I can touch it.” Her eyes lit as she was struck with an idea. “Maybe I can—” She reached out again and this time she didn’t pull back. “I can temper it with Zelena’s magic, not so much that she’ll notice but just enough to allow me to use the light magic.”

“Go Mom!”

“Brilliant,” said Killian with a grin. “Not hero or villain, but a much more practical combination of both.”

She caught his eye and understanding flashed between them.

Like you.

Aye. Like me.

“You can do this,” he said, and she nodded.

“Yes, I can.”

She flung out her arm and Zelena flew backwards into the wall, the bolt she’d been aiming at Emma ricocheting off the ceiling and showering them all in plaster dust. Emma turned, mouth dropping open. “Regina,” she gasped. “You—”

“It would seem so,” said Regina as she moved to Emma’s side and then they both flung their hands up as Zelena with a shriek of fury shot green light at the pair of them. Regina’s assistance tipped the delicate balance and Emma was able to form her magic into a barrier, like a wall, which she pushed towards Zelena slowly encircling her in a bubble of white magic.

And still, Zelena fought, pushing back with all her considerable might.

“She’s not giving up,” Regina yelled. “We can’t hold her off forever!”

“I just need to close this spell around her and she’ll be contained!” shouted Emma. “If you have any better ideas I’d love to hear them!”

“I think I know what to do,” said Henry quietly, for Killian’s ears alone. “It’s something I heard Frank tell Mom, when he was teaching her that magic you can sense is magic you can use. We’ve got to get Zelena’s amulet. That’s where her magic is, if we can get it away from her she’ll be powerless.”

“But how do we do that, she’s behind that shield your mums have made—”

“I can do it,” said Henry, with a confidence he almost felt.

“No, Henry—”

“Dad, please, I can do it. I know how, but there’s no time to tell you— You’ve just gotta trust me.”

Killian hesitated, looking intently at his son, torn between faith in the lad’s abilities and the parental desire to protect him. Finally, he nodded. Henry was far more Emma than he was Baelfire, smart and capable and brave. A bit of trust was the least he deserved.

“Very well,” he said.

---

The night before:

Magical weapons, it turned out, were far more plentiful than Henry had ever imagined. The book in his lap listed hundreds, outlined in detail with a history and description of each one, including the powers it possessed, a diagram, and a full-colour illustration.

Some he knew already. There was the Dark One’s dagger, of course (…Less a weapon in the traditional sense and more a vessel for the greatest evil in all the realms, though of course it could still be used to cut meat or stab enemies, should one wish it… explained the book, which Henry was coming to realise had quite the *ahem* cutting sense of humour) and there was Exalibur (So cool, thought Henry, I’d like to see that some day), plus Mulan’s sword and Robin Hood’s bow, but most of the weapons he’d never even heard of. Fragarach, for example, the sword from Celtic legend —Henry really thought that Frank ought to have told him about that one— and Odin’s sword Gram, sharp enough to split an anvil in half. The coolest one by far though was Æsahættr, also known as the subtle knife. Henry examined its diagram with intense fascination. The subtle knife was short and unassuming in appearance, with an embossed wooden handle and a double-edged blade, each edge forged of a different metal, a blade which it was said could cut through anything: any substance, any magic, even the fabric of reality itself.

Damn, thought Henry, That’s not something you want to see in the wrong hands…

---

Henry ran to the corner where Emma’s magic had flung Zelena’s knife, picking it up with hands trembling both from fear and excitement. He was all but certain that this was the knife he’d read about last night, Æsahættr, the sharpest and most dangerous blade in any of the known realms. After all, he’d had quite a good look at it when Zelena had threatened him, felt its keen edge cut his own skin.

Grasping the handle firmly in his hand he ran, quick as a flash, to the barrier of white light that surrounded Zelena and with a sweeping downward swing ripped a hole in the magic with the subtle knife. He darted through it before Zelena had time to react and grabbed her amulet, using the other edge of the knife to slice through the chain that held it. The moment it was severed Zelena’s green light went haywire, fizzling and crackling everywhere, barely contained by the bubble of light magic which had sealed itself behind Henry, trapping him and Zelena within.

Zelena shrieked in wordless fury, turning on Henry. He lifted the knife, slashing a new hole through the magic barrier but before he could get through it Zelena lunged at him, grabbing for the amulet. He yanked it away from her, unbalancing himself, and as he tried to regain his footing he lost his grip on the knife. Zelena snatched it up, triumph curling her lip into a mockery of a grin as she swung it at Henry, aiming for his heart.

Killian saw the glittering blade arc downward straight at Henry’s chest, and he reacted without thought. The second hole in the white magic had already begun to close but Killian angled his body and dove through it, tackling Henry to the ground and blocking him from Zelena’s attack, crying out in agony as he felt the blade of the subtle knife plunge into his shoulder, severing muscle and tendon and bone.

The amulet swung on the chain still clutched in Henry’s hand and as they landed it hit the hard floor of the warehouse, cracking the green stone open beyond repair. Abruptly the sparking green light winked out and the magical bubble closed around Zelena, binding her tightly with a power she couldn’t sense and which burned her when she touched it. She screamed as Emma sealed the edges of the spell around her then she and Regina released their magic, their shoulders slumping in exhaustion.

Emma looked around for Henry and Killian, her heart lurching painfully when she couldn’t find them at first and when she saw them lying in a motionless heap on the floor, a knife sticking out of Killian’s back, her heart stopped completely.

“No!” she cried, racing forward. “Killian, no—”

She ran to him, skidding clumsily to a halt and falling to her knees next to where he lay, rolling him over with shaking hands and nearly fainting in relief when he groaned. He was alive.

“Easy does it there, Swan, you may not have spotted this but I’ve been stabbed,” he said.

She grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely, pulling back before he could respond, then punched him in his un-stabbed shoulder. “I went to a lot of trouble to protect you from magic so of course you would find a way to get stabbed instead,” she said. “Typical.”

His answering chuckle was laced with pain. Hastily, Emma called to her magic again, using the last of her reserves to gently probe the wound in his shoulder and soothe the severed tissues as she eased the blade from his flesh and knit it back together. When the knife was free she examined it carefully, a small frown creasing her forehead, as Killian rolled his shoulder experimentally.

“Good as new,” he said in wonder.

Emma carefully set the knife aside on the floor then stood and held out her hand, helping him to his feet. He used his momentum to pull her into his arms, squeezing her tightly and kissing her breathless.

Henry got to his feet as well, watching them with a uniquely teenage blend of delight and chagrin, and when the kiss went on and on with no sign of stopping the chagrin took over and he gave a loud, exaggerated sigh. He was mid-eye-roll when Killian’s hand reached back and grabbed him by the shirtfront, pulling him into the embrace and hugging him close as Emma covered his face in kisses.

Henry did not protest. “I missed you too, Mom,” he said.

They stood like that for some time, a tangle of limbs and relief, until the sound of Regina clearing her throat finally penetrated their haze. Emma turned and offered her a smile.

“Regina,” she said. “I— thank you. I couldn’t have beat her without you.”

Regina looked embarrassed. “I just used your magic,” she said.

“It was a lot more than that,” said Emma, her smile widening as for a brief moment Regina’s face softened with emotion. “But we don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.”

“We do have to talk about some other things,” said Regina sharply, burying her vulnerability behind snappishness. “Like the curse, for example. I can’t help noticing that it’s not broken.”

“How do you know?” asked Killian.

“I can still feel it. Nothing has changed. We’ve defeated the witch, you two have kissed, a lot, and yet the curse is untouched.”

The sound of a cackle from the corner of the room startled them, and they all turned to look at Zelena. She was standing stiffly, bound securely by Emma’s magic though the only visible sign of it was the faint halo of light that surrounded her. Her face was pained but malice and triumph still glinted in her eyes. “Did you really think True Love’s Kiss could break this curse?” she asked. “Oh no, my dears. That was only possible the first time because the Dark One wanted it to be. This curse cannot be defeated by love. There is no love here to defeat it.”

“What the hell does that mean—” Emma snapped, breaking off when Killian put his hand on her shoulder. “I think I know,” he said in a low voice. “Or at least I have an idea.” He looked at Henry and the boy nodded in agreement.

“What” asked Emma, scowling a little at their silent communication. “What’s the idea?”

“It’s—” Henry began, but Killian cut him off.

“It’s something that can wait until tomorrow,” he said firmly. “Before we can do anything we’ll need more research and we’ll need a plan, and frankly right now what we need most of all is to stash this witch someplace secure and take some time to rest and regroup. It’s been a hell of a day, love.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “It really has.”

She poofed them all to the Sheriff’s station where she put Zelena in a cell and warded the locks before releasing her from her magical bindings. They all waited tensely as Zelena shook herself, stretching her stiff muscles. When no green light flashed or even sparked, they shared a sigh of relief.

Zelena gave them a sardonic glare and made herself ostentatiously comfortable on the hard cot, saying nothing.

“I’ll stay here with her tonight,” said Regina. “I know she seems powerless but I don’t trust her.”

“I’ll stay too,” said Henry eagerly, then turned to Emma with a grin before she had a chance to feel hurt. “So you and Dad can have some time alone,” he said.

Her heart swelled with warmth at the natural way he called Killian “Dad,” and at his thoughtfulness. “Are you sure, kid? I feel bad leaving you so soon after I just… re-found you.”

Henry hugged her tightly. “We have time, Mom,” he said. “Also Dad really missed you, and you know, no offence but there aren’t any walls in our apartment and my headphones are not noise-cancelling—”

“Oi!” protested Killian, and Emma laughed.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You stay here with Regina tonight and we can all meet up for lunch tomorrow, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

---

Emma summoned Henry his pajamas and a change of clothes then hugged him again. Killian hugged him too, and they had a whispered conversation that ended with them grinning at each other as Killian gave Henry’s shoulder a very paternal squeeze. Emma’s chest felt tight. The obvious closeness that had developed between her son and her husband over the past year both delighted her and made her terribly sad. She’d missed so much.

Killian took her hand and smiled at her, reading her as he always did. “We’ll see him tomorrow, Swan,” he said, and she nodded.

“I know,” she replied, squeezing his hand. With one final wave at Henry and Regina, she poofed them back to Killian’s apartment where they stood silently, hands still clasped, staring at each other.

After a long moment Killian gently drew her closer, releasing her hand to run his own up her arm and into her hair, pulling her in for a kiss. She sighed and wrapped her arms tightly around him, opening her mouth under his, glorying in the taste and feel of him, the reality of him back in her arms. It was wonderful, and it was overwhelming, all the stress and the emotion of the day and now the achingly familiar tug of Killian’s hand in her hair and his hook pressing into the small of her back, and Emma broke the kiss with a sob as tears began to pour down her cheeks.

Killian brushed them away with his thumb, his touch so gentle and loving that she sobbed even harder. “What’s this, love?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Argh, I don’t know!” she cried, wiping futilely at her cheeks. “I just— I have a lot of emotions going on right now.”

He pulled her back into his arms, cradling her head against his chest. “I know, darling,” he said. “Let them out.”

Emma clutched at him, burying her face against his chest as all the stress and trauma of the past year poured out of her and she just wept, wild and unrestrained, and he held her, saying nothing, stroking her hair as her tears drenched the front of his sweater.

She had no idea how long she cried. Time and place faded away and her world distilled into pure sensation: the twisting ache in her heart, the sturdy strength of Killian and his arms around her, the softness of his sweater against her cheek.

She rubbed her face against it, drying the last of her tears.

“I like this sweater,” she said. “Is it new?”

“Aye.”

Emma felt drained and weak, and infinitely better than before, but the thought of him buying clothes without her still had the power to give her a small twinge of hurt.

“Part of my attempt to blend in,” he explained. “Henry was of the opinion that black leather wasn’t the most effective way to remain inconspicuous.”

She chuckled, the sound still watery with the echo of her tears. “You couldn’t blend in no matter what you wore.”

“He said the same. But I did my best.”

There was so much she wanted to say to him, about how alone she had felt, how she had missed him even when she couldn’t remember who he was. How much it meant to her that he had never given up. She tried to find the words but there was just too much; too many conversations they needed to have when she was still so raw, her emotions so close to the surface. So she said the only thing that truly mattered.

“I love you.”

He made a choked noise and his arms tightened around her. “I love you,” he said hoarsely, and she could feel the dampness of his own tears against her hair. Her fearsome pirate was such a softy underneath, she thought. Who would have imagined it?

Her love for him wanted to burst from her chest. It surged and clawed at her, demanding to be expressed, demanding his lips on hers and his skin under her hands and his cock deep inside her. She wanted to feel his body against hers as close as they could get, wanted them so tightly joined that the seam was invisible, so tightly that nothing could ever separate them again.

Nothing ever really had, she knew. They were connected in a way that memory curses and physical distance could strain but never break, but as much as she loved their dreams and as grateful as she had been for them this past year, nothing could compare to the warm, solid reality of Killian pressed against her and she had missed it.

She began to trail kisses along his jaw as her hands slid under his soft sweater to find the softer skin beneath and she walked him backwards towards the sofa.

“Emma—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Killian, I know I’ve just bawled my eyes out and you probably want to talk about that and I want to talk about it too, babe, really, but not now. Right now I just— I need to touch you, okay?”

He chuckled, light and happy but edged with the same bittersweet desperation that was driving her. “You’ll hear no argument from me, darling,” he growled. “I merely wished to suggest that we adjourn to the bedroom before things get out of hand. This sofa is not like our one in New York, it has a rogue spring that always seems to poke me no matter where I sit, and—”

Emma waved her hand and they were standing next to his bed, clothes gone.

“—and this is much better,” concluded Killian, scooping her up and tossing her onto the mattress. She laughed as he pounced on her, kissing along the curve of her neck as his hand and bare wrist sought out all the spots that made her moan.

It was like their dreams but also not, sharper and more potent in reality but considerably less smooth, with straining muscles and rude noises and awkward positions. Emma banged her elbow against the headboard of the unfamiliar bed and Killian slipped on the slick sateen coverlet, but when he was finally inside her, her legs wrapped tightly around him and her fingernails gouging the skin of his shoulders, it was perfect in a way that the perfection of their dreams could never achieve.

Killian was whispering to her, soft words pressed into the skin of her neck and breathed through the strands of her hair, how good she felt, how much he’d missed her. How much he loved her.

“Killian,” she moaned. “I love you… love you…” It was all she could think, and all she could feel. Her orgasm built slowly then broke over her all at once, flooding her senses as she gripped him tightly and he groaned into her hair as he came. They curled into each other as they drifted down, neither wishing to let the other go, and for the first time in more than a year they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Further Notes: Fans of His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman will of course recognise the subtle knife.

#cs ff #cs fic #canon divergence #3b canon divergence #alternative 3b #captain swan #cursed captain swan #cursed storybrooke #smut for real this time #Henry is clever #and Killian is courageous #and Emma is badass #and Regina makes herself useful #their way by moonlight #profdanglaisstuff

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supercilium-sulcos · 5 years

Text

Fictober 2019: Day 5

Prompt number: 5 - “I might just kiss you.” Original fiction: Decadence Rating: G Warnings/Tags: alcohol, implied polyamory (not really a warning but? w/e)

Even if the party had ended, their night was far from finished. Elegant soirees in the Crest were for intrigue and guile. They weren't for entertainment, they were tests of his mettle. Central, on the other hand -- Central folks knew how to party.

He'd come to the capital to do something worthwhile, but the strain of his non-stop performance weighed on him. And, he was sure, it had begun wearing away at Arael and Samira as well. They deserved a break, if only for a night.

The streets were deserted. They must have woken every resident from the lifts to the palace with their laughter. Cassian carried them both -- Arael on his back and Samira in his arms. He was the only sober one of their trio, though he didn't mind. He couldn't recall ever seeing Samira so giggly. It was refreshing. She reached out to open the door for him when they were in range.

Cassian headed for the living room where he let them down. Rather than split up, they all fell against the couch in a cozy heap. Arael sprawled across his lap with his legs stretching over Samira's. Cassian kept an arm around Sam's shoulders to pull her in close. So much of their affection was simply for show to play the part of husband and wife. In private, they rarely cuddled. She nestled comfortably into the crook of his arm and laced one hand with Arael's.

"Hey love," Arael grinned, nuzzling against him. "We should play a game."

"I don't think you're coherent enough for games," Cassian reminded him. He ran his fingers through Arael's loose hair.

"Not your weird games." His beloved poked him hard in the chest. "Let's play truth or dare. C'mon. You start."

Chuckling, Cassian said, "All right. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Arael declared with a dramatic waggle of his eyebrows.

"I dare you to show Samira your tattoo."

Samira perked up. Her rosy cheeked grin was lovely to behold. "You have a tattoo?"

Arael groaned. "I know, I know! I made a really stupid bet with my brother once. Long story short, I didn't know turtles laid eggs until I was seventeen and I thought our parrot was the devil--"

"Stalling won't save you," Cassian reminded him. "Show her."

Grumbling all the while, Arael hooked his thumb into the side of his pants and tugged them down a few inches. He angled himself up so Samira could see the design inked into his hip.

"Oooh, is that a fish?"

Arael explained, "Yeah. A fighting fish."

"It's really beautiful," she sighed. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. I think it's elegant."

"I like it too," Cassian smiled, scratching lightly under Arael's chin. "The way the fins twirl remind me of your hair when you dance."

Arael pushed against them both with hands and knees. "All right, that's enough. You're both being so gross," he groaned. "And it's my turn. Sam, truth or dare?"

"Hmm... Truth," she said.

"What's the tackiest part of Cassian's house?"

"Honestly all of it is a bit tacky for my taste," she said, "but I think the whole city is like that." After pausing for a moment to suck on her cheek, Samira's eyes lit up. "Oh! The gold busts of those old men down the hall. Those are hideous."

"Agreed," Cassian had to admit. "I think my grandfather commissioned those, and I don't have the heart to throw them out."

Arael patted his chest for his attention. "Cass. Truth or dare?"

"It's Samira's turn."

"No, you go," she said.

Cassian rolled his eyes. "All right. Truth."

Something wicked lurked in Arael's smirk. "What's the most you've ever done with a woman?"

"You already know the answer." But the way Arael looked at him so expectantly, Cassian knew that wouldn't be enough. He sighed, looking away. "Nothing."

"Have you ever been attracted to a woman?"

"Ari."

"It's just a question!"

"And you've already asked one. You don't get two per round."

Arael reached up to stroke his cheek. The movements were still a little sloppy, eyes a little glassy. But his beloved's smile still brought him comfort. "I'm not going to be jealous."

Hesitating, Cassian murmured, "Yes."

He didn't think the answer would be satisfactory, but Arael pressed him no further. Instead, he moved on to Samira.

"Truth or dare?"

Perhaps she'd learned her lesson from Cassian. "Dare," she said.

"I dare you to try one of my dances."

"Oh Creators," she sighed.

But she didn't shy away from it. She untangled herself from Cassian's arm and Arael's thighs, standing before them with her hands clasped behind her back. Rolling up to the tips of her toes, she asked hesitantly, "So which dance, exactly?"

"Any of them," Arael said.

"I... Well. I don't know," she admitted with a soft giggle. "Sometimes I get so distracted by your water magic that I don't really, um... pay close attention to the dance moves."

Normally Arael, as Cassian knew him, would have jumped at the chance to be appalled at the notion. Too distracted to pay attention to me? I am SCANDALIZED, Samira. SCANDALIZED! Cassian could hear it already. But instead, he'd say that Arael looked almost... pleased? His husband slipped off of his lap and circled around Samira until he stood right behind her. "How about I give you a little lesson?"

Surely it wasn't meant to be this way. Arael hadn't meant to wink at him. Samira hadn't intended to flush and grin when she agreed. His mouth watered. Stomach somersaulted. If he wanted this to stop, he could make it stop. He knew Arael wasn't so far gone that he would test this boundary without Cassian's consent. Their eyes met. Cassian gave him the slightest nod and perched his chin on his palm. Pleased, Arael put his hands on Samira's hips.

"This is where you've got to build that rhythm. Like a heartbeat," he said. And began rocking her hips left... right... left. His own swaying in unison. "There you go. You're way better at this than Cass."

Samira said, "I've danced before, you know. Just not like you."

"Sweetheart, no one dances like me."

When he guided her to dip, to bend and twirl like a willow, she moved. Gods, she moved.

"So why did you dare me to try?" she asked.

Arael flashed another mischievous grin over her shoulder... directed at Cassian. "Oh, I don't know. Just for fun."

He pulled her in close, leaving no room between their bodies. Flush against her back, he wrapped his arms around her while Samira lead their dance.

"Did you know Cassian fell in love with me the first time he saw me perform?" Arael said.

A breathless giggle parted her lips. "I'm not surprised. You're the most incredible dancer ever."

It was Arael's turn to laugh. Dipping close to her ear, he slid his hands up her waist. Samira leaned into his touch. "Glad you noticed." A tiny sigh fluttered past her lips. Delicate fingertips traced Arael's hands. Cassian wasn't sure what he was meant to feel in that moment. All he knew was the intense satisfaction of seeing the two of them -- together, blissful.

"You really do move like... like water," Samira murmured. "Like a river. Never losing your flow."

"Careful with all the compliments. I might just kiss you."

One plump lip disappeared between her teeth. "What are you waiting for?"

A primal, fierce sense of hunger stirred in the depths of his gut. He watched as if transfixed. Arael peered up with half-lidded eyes, mouth hidden against Samira's shoulder. "Seeing if Cass wants to do it first."

He didn't know how they'd gotten to this point. Realistically, he should have seen this coming. How long could two people pretend to be a loving couple before it was no longer pretend? Cassian thought his feelings were something different: friendship, companionship. Attraction was normal... right? Samira was a beautiful woman. He certainly thought so, and so did Arael. He remembered many occasions when Arael admitted to his attraction. But the pieces didn't come together until Samira looked him in the eyes in their living room, tipsy and barefoot and messy-haired.

Cassian dry-swallowed. Well. Now we've really stepped in it, haven't we.

He extended his hand towards her from his seat on the couch. Tentative, she approached and settled her hand in his. He had not forgotten how much she'd had to drink. He pulled her knuckles to his lips, held her gaze while he planted a gentle kiss against them.

"Perhaps it would be best to continue in the morning when we have clearer heads."

Samira gave his hand a faint squeeze. "Always the gentleman."

And from behind them came a very soft "oof." Cassian peered around Samira where his husband swayed. Not in the motions of his dance routine, but as if woozy. "Ah... yep. Yep, that's the vomit. Be right back--"

His husband barely made it out of the room before finding some receptacle to ruin. Cassian could not help but to roll his eyes. Whatever it was, hopefully it wasn't another expensive vase. The kitchen must have still had mint and ginger. Though it would have been far more satisfying to let Arael take care of himself -- and learn his lesson about over-indulging -- Cassian would not risk their good bed sheets. He touched Samira's back just enough to get her attention. "I'll get to him in a moment. Can I help you to your room?"

"I'm fine, I... oh." Springing to move so quickly left her stumbling, and Cassian steadied her. "Maybe. Please."

She walked on her own, but her wobbling would have led her stumbling into any of the hall's many hazards. From statues to tapestries to paintings, there was no end to the dangerous furnishings between the couch and her bedroom.

"Sorry for troubling you," she murmured. That meekness had faded so much during their time living together. It was the first time Cassian had seen it creep back in a long while.

"I enjoy a bit of trouble on occasion."

"To be with Arael for so long, I suppose that must be true," she chuckled.

He stopped at her door. "Do you need anything?"

With a little shake of her head, Samira let herself in. One foot crossed the threshold. She looked back up at him. "Cassian?"

"Yes, dear?"

She said nothing. Maybe she was waiting for him, like Arael. Maybe she worried that he would prey upon her like a beast. Whatever happened behind that furrowed brow was a mystery. Samira did nothing to enlighten him with her soft chirp of, "Goodnight."

Arael was a lost cause if the sound of his puking was anything to go by, but Cassian hoped that Samira might get a better night's rest than him.

#fictober19 #fictober.#writing #original fiction #decadence #my writing #full disclosure i really did write 90% of this on day 5 #i just couldn't figure out how to wrap it up #and it ended up like 3x longer than intended lol #i got stuck trying to finish it and fell a liiiittle behind WHOOPS

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reddogf13 · 5 years

Text

Between two Voids ch 18

Pennywise x Beverly

summery: It has been 12 years since Beverly was last in Derry. now 26 years old and returning with her boyfriend she strives for a life of normalcy in the small town. Unaware that a certain stalking creature has awakened much earlier than expected. Looking for a challenge to cure its boredom ,in the now crumbling town, IT aims to uproot her life as much as possible. Yet, is that really such a bad thing given her dark situation hidden from all but the eyes of a world eater?

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore, sex scene ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

prev chap: Between two Voids ch 17

next chap: Between two Voids ch 19

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~ch:18 Burning bridges ~

“shit, he fled down!” Thinking in a rush back inside. Heading down the basement stairs to the large stone well still hidden there. Looking down the deep space to judge its distance. Gathering up multiple blankets to tie into one long rope to climb down.

Making her way through the tunnels as fast as she could. Anxiously counting all the minutes it took her to reach the middle. Not hesitating to rush through the nest entrance of the wagon doors.

“pen?!” calling his name with a scan over the vast blankets. Spotting him, or at least his floating blood in the far back.

“pen?!” calling to him again for some response. Worry momentarily eased by him letting out a growl. At least he was responding.

Approaching closer she saw him laying curled, blood oozing clouds of floating blood. Part of his shoulder clothing missing around one said wound. Seeing him bite at the wound to gnaw the bullet out like a wild wounded animal. Having her leap in to stop him injuring himself more.

“don't do that!” not caring that she got between his angry jaws of jagged teeth and a gaping wound geysering out blood. Ignoring the low protesting growl escaping him. Snapping open the first aid kit to take some gauze into her hand. Blocking the large wound he had been gnawing over. When the blood slowed enough she took the time using a super long pair of tweezers to wiggle the bullet free.

“take off your shirt. I need to see the other wounds to care for them.” telling him what to do as she finished up bandaging the first.

“i am fine.” Growling out the grumble.

“no, you're not! What you did was stupid! Erik and his group are armed drug dealers! You could have been killed over your pride!” giving a slap on his good shoulder. Not even hard enough to leave a mark. Hearing another grumbling growl from him. Keeping still as Beverly stripped him of his upper costume. Her first aid helping to speed up his healing. The wounds closing in incredible time after being treated. Relieved at him turning out fine after 3 gunshot wounds helped only on basic first aid applied. Hugging him right as some tears escaped her eyes. Having unknowingly held them in during this whole time since Erik was at the front door. Breaking down into crying in pens arms. Burying her face into his neck while regathering herself to stop crying.

Her distress startling him into comforting her. Hugging her close to carefully wipe away her falling tears.

“i love you.” she sniffled. Kissing him on the lips that he returned. “thank you.”

The fight to protect her had him jolted. Her kisses worked toward a rush he was feeling from almost killing a male rival. Glowing with pride over his mate he so successfully defended from an aggressive intruder. The praise she was raining down on him in loving thanks triggering the next natural step. Resettling his stance as the top male and her one’n only mate.

Taking the lead in kissing her down into the bedding. Kissing to her neck to lick over the same spots. Heading lower to nip at her collar bone swapping between more licks.

Beverly relaxed back under the tender care she knew was leading to something. Joyfully letting him do whatever he wanted. This was the first time they'd be together since ditching Erik. A weight missing from before of the fear of being caught. No worries about needing to rush off afterwards or hide evidence of their recent play. Simply enjoying all the thrill in the moment.

Giggling at him stripping the clothes from her legs. Shivering excitedly to the following licks along her exposed thighs. Soft gloved hands Rubbing her legs into opening wide to hungrily devour her. Licking far deeper then he had before. A detail Beverly noticed, but said nothing about it. Melting into the bedding under the deep licking that was beginning to last forever.

She didn't think it was possible to get so sore, yet pleasured from one action after so long. The first 5 minutes was amazing. The next following 10 were less so. Then after almost half an hour she needed him to switch to something else.

“uh, pen ...” her voice waveringly speaking. Grabbing his attention to move away from the current action.

Fully satisfied with his work in preparation for the next move he we rose up. Crawling over her to give a gentle pull at her side. Directing her into turning onto her stomach. Kissing along the soft pale skin of her back rarely exposed to him. Slipping off her shirt to quickly undo her bra that she helped him remove. Shivering to the lick he drew longingly over the back of her neck. His breath heating the skin he buried his face against.

Her body shivering to the feeling of those black tendrils gliding over her skin. Tensing up at the large slick rod pressing into her. Tension dropping to the long press forward into her. Rubbing her sweet spots to draw her into an even more relaxed state. Nipping into her neck upon getting a certain deepness.

Time flying by with the pleasure passing between the two. Continuing well over the next day on their fun. At some point they had gone to bed. Beverly waking confused as to what day it was.

“damn.” mumbling surprised as she woke herself. “what day is it? I already saw morning pass a while ago. Ugh, cant even move still so exhausted.” stretching as best she could on the little energy gained. Smiling at the resting form of pen beside her.

“when I can walk again we should go shopping. Buy a cake to celebrate, hmm?” expecting him to answer, yet nothing came. “did you hear me?” asking again. His form still resting without a response to her. He never slept like her, so he had to be awake. “hey, do you want cake or not?” she shook him to gain his attention. Still no reaction out of him.

“ignoring me?” she wondered. “why tho?” sitting up to glare over him.

Seeing something on her chest out of the corner of her eye she looked down. Almost having a heart attack by a massive scar over her heart in the shape of a spiraling galaxy. Stretching multiple spiraling arms 6 inches off its deep center. Furious at finding the cause of his ignoring her she punched him hard in the chest. Ignoring the pain in her hand now to shout him down.

“what did you do?!” roaring down at him. Him looking around confused as if lost on where he was for a moment. Looking more confused at noticing Beverly was furious about something. “what is this?!” pointing to the massive scar on her chest. He looked down to where she pointed. Taken aback by the scars sudden appearance. Studying it over for a moment then grew a small smile at her.

“it's the bonded mark.” he spoke proudly.

“what?! Why'd you carve this?!” not understanding what he was talking about.

“i didn't carve it. It happens, I've been told about it, but have never seen one. I didn't even believe they were real.”

“whats it do?! Whys it here?!” she stressed over the large mark.

“it bonds us together as mates. You accepted me as your mate and so it appeared.” explaining to her calmly.

“what?! No, I-i cant, I am not ready. I cant jump in like this i-” she panicked over this coming way too fast. There was still so much for them to talk over to work out. She didn't feel comfortable accepting such a big title with him before things were buried for good. Feeling a low burn at the mark she paused her panicked talking to look. The mark disintegrating back toward its middle then finally going completely without evidence of it ever being there.

“what happened?!” stressing at what it had just done. Looking back at him to nervously swallow at him looking hurt.

“ … you rejected me. … it went away.” his tone sorrowful at what he witnessed.

“oh …. I didn't mean to ...” feeling incredible guilt at her unintentional action. She wouldn't have minded keeping it. It was only the whole implication behind it that scared her. Being like a sudden wedding proposal when they'd only officially been together for a month now. “i am really sorry.” she apologized.

he comforted her in a hug in a gentle voice. “don't apologize, it's alright. It can always come back.”

“... do you want to go shopping? Since I don't have to worry about Erik now. We can get cake.” sheepishly asking him after giving him an emotional blow to the gut. He chuckled, giving a kiss on her cheek.

“sure.” agreeing. Gathering up all their clothes to get redressed. Helping her get up on all her sore muscles. “maybe a hot bath first.” he offered, receiving a nod from her.

After a hot relaxing bath Beverly was stretching in her new clothing to release any left over tension in her muscles. Giggling at the pair of arms hugging her from behind.

“ready to go darling?” escorting her from the house all the way to the store. On the way there Beverly noticed peculiar things happening around her. People appeared more twitchy then normal, mainly while talking. Catching hooks in their speech if they mentioned a lie. Watching other twitches show off how nervous or confident they were. The whole situation was disturbing her, made worse once inside surrounded by people. Bombarded by all these strong smells of food. She could smell precisely what apples were the freshest on the shelf it was so strong.

“whats wrong?” he asked her.

“i-i don't know.” answering confused. Everyone was twitchy, except for him. Realizing that he also smelt wonderfully of cotton candy. “everybody's really twitchy. I don't know how to describe it exactly.”

“twitchy? Am I twitchy?”

“no, everything smells different too. Like everything's stronger. … do you think the mark could have done this?” asking up to him.

“yes, I feel it did. I've noticed changes as well. I actually believe i fell asleep at one point. Was fully asleep when you woke me. I was worried that i had possibly gone into hibernation. Yet it was so different being in that state. Sure gave me an energy boost though.” smiling down at her.

“do you know what else it could have done? What do you know about it?” questioning him curiously.

“uh, I was told that “the mark bonds two together. Crossing fates, lining their lives, passing each strengths to the other. The connection can smfrn-” mumbling off into silence.

“what? What's the last part?” asking him to clarify.

“the connection can sometimes, something, something.” he mumbled off again.

“huh?”

“when I was told, … I may have. Not. Paid. … Any attention.” mumbling that out too guiltily.

“you didn't pay attention when told about it?!”

“no, I didn't think it'd ever be a use to me!” he exclaimed, sounding guilty about it. “It was all ramblings of getting along with others to create peace, love, and blah blah. I didn't care for any of it at the time.”

“that leaves us to figure it out. The marks gone too, do you think this will wear off?”

“not sure, guess we'll find out together.” smiling in leading her along to shop.

Meanwhile far off at Derry hospital Erik was seated in a hospital bed surrounded by his friends loitering around the room.

“someone go out and get me some real damn food!” shoving away the hospital food tray away. Unable to leave while being treated for a broken leg, swollen jaw, and a grouping of fractured ribs. Trey also being treated with a newly made cast on his double snapped arm.

“that fucking clown is gonna pay. The whole damn mob is going to pay in this shitty town!”

“we're still going after Beverly?” Darius asked.

“of course we fucking are! No way I am letting the shitty mob here own her! It's all that damn clowns fault! He's the one in charge! As soon as were set out of this hospital we'll go steal Beverly back. Book it out of the town with her. No way they'll track us across multiple states.” Erik grumbled while uncomfortably shifting around in bed. “It’ll be one big “fuck you” to him getting property stolen in his town.” Mocking the last words in Roberts voice.

3 months later…

Pen had made great strides in becoming human. Attracting factories back to Derry while earning a high wage job in a single stride. Working as the head of a large materials factory. One that made certain cuts of iron or wood for house building. The new factory in turn attracting more people for jobs.

Shops having returned to life with the flow. Particularly the diner Beverly was rehired at. She wanted something to help get her out of the house. The Waitressing job without Erik harassing her was a breeze. The manager having hired her right back after Bev said the “family emergency” had ended.

Lately Beverly had been struck with a stomach illness. Her manager forcing her home to avoid barfing in front of eaters. Pen constantly getting her soup after his work day. Hovering around to make sure she was alright.

“Are you sure you want to go to work today?” He asked the sickened Beverly chugging a dose of cold medicine on the couch.

“Yessss. I can't miss too many days. I've already been gone a week and can't afford anymore time. This flu isn't getting any better either. We may have to go visit the doctor for this.” Rubbing a headache away.

“ you think it's that serious? Should i be staying home?” Worrying for her health. “You really don't need to go. I can sweep everything away until you’re better.”

“No, don't do that! It's probably just a stubborn flu. Any doctor i see will just tell me to suck it up, go home and rest it off.” Standing to her feet to huff out some air. “We are a normal family and not everything should be solved with manipulation of the whole town.” Settling that fact.

“If you’re sure darling. Please, take it easy.” Waving her goodbye from the door. Leaving for work earlier then she did.

“ yeah yeah.” Jokingly waving him off. Rushing to the bathroom afterwards to release all contents in her stomach.

“Dammit, i just took that!” Shouting at the medicine swirling in the bowl. “Medicine never did anything anyway.” Going from her spot by the toilet to clean herself up at the sink again. Heading downstairs to be off for her work.

Checking in with her boss who allowed her to stay this shift. Dressing in uniform to head the counter. An easy job she simply had to sit and check people in. A few new waitresses being hired to handle the tables orders.

Not too long into the job with Beverly feeling sick to her stomach again. “Not now dammit! Go away!” Thinking against the illness. The idea failing as she needed to subtly rush to the bathroom to puke her guts out. Cleaning up at the sink to return before anybody noticed. Then trying her best to not look miserably sick back at the counter.

“Maybe pen was right. This isn't a good idea.” Debating now if she wanted to push thru the day.

“Well, well, well, the witch of Derry is back here. Poisoning the foods of innocent town folk.” She turn to glare at Victoria mocking her from the door.

“What do you want?!” Beverly snapped. Ever since the fight with Erik she promised herself not to be pushed around anymore. “Why are you still even here?!” Adding on to her last statement.

“You thought your rich friend scared Erik off? Heh, no way. We’re still around doing business. Why not give me a big discount like good old times.” Smirking the demand at Beverly

“I ain't serving you shit. Go fly off you harpy!” Insulting Victoria to her face felt so good.

“What did you say to me redhead slut?! You better apologize before i go tell Erik!” Victoria throwing insults right back.

“ i don't give a flying fuck what you tell Erik! Scram you vulturous hag!” Beverly shooing her off with a hand.

“Your gonna regret those words!” Victoria snarled to head around the counter. Grabbing a hold of Beverly's collar to attempt some punches. Failing miserably in her fighting tactics like back on the river. Things knocked over as Beverly pinned Victoria down in a short scuffle.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Beverly's manager shouted. Having been called to action by other staff members.

“She tried to fight me!” Pushing Victoria away to gain space.

“No i didn't! Why would i randomly attack someone in a diner! Her on the other hand i know is mentally unstable! You need to fire her before she kills someone!” Victoria spouted on how horrible Beverly was.

Beverly in the end had the upper hand as staff told the manager what had happened. Victoria quickly being thrown out without a second thought. She stood outside the door cursing while flipping the place off. Continuing the actions even while walking off.

“Beverly, you should go home.” Her manager mentioned softly.

“What, why?! It wasn't my fault!” She defended herself.

“i know, but you look really awful. Do you need to possibly see a doctor? Or call someone to pick you up?” Speaking the gentlest they could. The staff seeing Beverly much paler than when she came in. surrounded by concerned eyes watching her.

“... No. Resting works just fine.” Hesitating on going. In the end she could feel how crappy she looked. Sighing with a walk to the back to change out of uniform to head back home early. Her manager was right, especially after that fight. Something in her stomach was badly jostled in that rumble. Feeling far worse than before.

Walking back home holding her stomach in pain. Once inside she went straight up to bed. Crawling into the floating bedding pen made. Burying herself under the multiple blankets for comforting warmth. The only thing that seemed to bring relief from the painful illness.

“I could call pen on his lunch break to zip me over some hot soup.” Thinking it over. “ usually it gets better by then too.” Wincing at her pained stomach. Groaning at a knock at the door.

“What ever salesman that is he better have soup!” Trudging out of bed to answer the door. Far too distracted by the illness to notice the knocking being impatient. Repeatedly hitting the door as if police were ready to ram the door down if gone unanswered.

No time to react when Erik and his friends busted in. Tying her down and gagging her. “Lets go! Get her in the car before anybody sees!” Erik rushed them. Beverly doing her best to struggle against everything. Shoved into the back seat with little care between trey and Darius. Erik in the front with Lorna driving.

They barely got down the road when all the jostling had Beverly vomit onto the car floor.

“Oh fucking dammit!” Trey blurted out at the sight. Everyone in the back seat sitting far away from Beverly like she had the plague. Coming to the realization she was horribly sick.

“Suck it up! Like you guys haven't seen vomit before. Clean it up back there!” Erik tossing a handful of fast food napkins on the back seat. Everyone in the back reluctantly cleaning up the mess.

“You bastards had to grab me while i am getting over the flu?” She groaned sickly.

“... I have some salty crackers in my pocket. They could help your stomach” Darius offered. After Beverly nodded he brought out a few silver foil packets. Most likely free crackers given out at baseball games. Ripping them open to slip out the saltine crackers for her. Holding them for her to eat while restrained.

Eating one at a time she slowly recovered. Her stomach settling down for the time being.

Thinking on how she was going to get out of this. “If Erik leaves me alone with these two I'll get my chance to bolt. Trey rather not touch me and Darius won't do jack.” Examining carefully the directions of where they were driving. Calming down at knowing they weren't heading straight out of Derry. “at least I won't have to jump from the car.”

Far off in one of the factories, Pen known as “grey” was at work. Patrolling the work lines for errors. Talking over a few orders when he was called to the front desk. “Mr. Grey, there's a lady here to see you.” One worker passed on the message.

“Beverly?” His mind worried. Who else could it be suddenly visiting him. Working to not look panicked as he rushed for the front desk. His worry dropping to fury at Victoria standing there holding a delighted smile toward him.

“What?!” Was all grey could politely say under his rage.

“I thought we should get to know each other handsome. I understand how you cant talk in front of that witch without getting in trouble. Here we got better privacy. Do you have a office with a big desk we can talk at?” Victoria winked as she invaded his space flirtatiously.

“Leave, now. I find you repulsive! Rather wishing on devouring my own arm then bed your hagged hide!” Throwing insults through gritted teeth.

“Hmpf, you’re loss honey, but I would reconsider. I forgot to mention Beverly's probably with Erik now anyway.”

“WHAT?!” Roaring the word.

“Oh yeah, Erik probably picked her up. Leaving this dumb ass town.” Gloating the victory at her rejector.

“WHERE?!” He roared again.

“I am not telling you!” Smirking in a turn to leave.

“TELL ME OR-” demanding from her when she interrupted.

“Or else what? You’ll hurt me in front of all these people? While my friends skip town to where other police not under you’re mob control are? Think smart about your decisions sweety!” Speaking overly sweet in smugness.

It was true. Pen had little energy to hide something from groups. However he could pull other strings within control. Watching her leave with a growing smirk stretching across his face.

In the few minutes it took her to reach the end of the parking lot she had drastically changed. Bits of hair falling from her head. Skin turning wrinkly into sagging. Her confident smooth walking slowing down to being a painful shuffle.

“what?! What's happened?!” Victorias voice coming out like a scraggly old women's.

“soo madam, what may I ask brings you here? Wandering around our factory? Does your son work here or did you wander away from the old folks home?” grey walked up behind her. Laughing at the sight of Victoria's instant 90 year aging.

“what did you do to me you bastard?!”

“ohh, not very polite for an old women. To think I was going to walk you across the road.” mocking as the biggest smile twisted on his face.“wheres Beverly?” turning serious.

“i ain't old! Like id tell you, ya bastard! You better fix this you fucker!”

“Or else what? You’ll hurt me in front of all these people?” repeating her words back in mocking.

“I'll knock your teeth out!” making a move toward him turning into a disastrous fall onto the tarred lot. A snap of multiple fragile bones heard when she did. Her screams of pain gathering a crowd. People asking what happened.

“this asshole did something to me.” weakly pointing at grey.

“i didn't touch her. She was wandering the parking lot and I believe she's suffering from something. I've already called police to help her back to where ever she wandered from.” making an excuse that was quickly believed by everyone. His story helped by Victoria spouting rants of how she wasn't old. That “he and the witch put a curse on me! They deserve to suffer for what they did to me!”

the police arrived with an ambulance to pick her up. After asking her questions with no proper answers given they pushed her into the ambulances back.

The world around Victoria seemed to slow a moment. Grey approaching with glowing amber eyes over a large smile of jagged teeth. His tall muscled stature blocking the sunlight to darken the whole back of the truck. Her calls for help were unheard by anyone near by. Stunned as grey leaned over her helpless injured body.

“age before beauty, sweety. Enjoy your newfound body trapped in an old folks home.” waving lightly to her. Laughing on his walk away with not a soul seeming to noticed what he had said.

While everybody was distracted by the ambulance leaving he took his chance to vanish urgently back home. Calling Beverly in each room looking for her. Looking over the front door he discovered was wrapped around the door knob. A delicate push had the door swinging open from the broken knob unable to shut.

“how dare they!” he snarled. Greatly regretting his choice to leave for work. What she had was more urgent than the flu, but he didn't want to tell her yet. He shouldn't have left her alone in her condition.

Stepping out onto the porch to twist his face in disgust at the smell of the male rats scent still lingering. Following the strong scents to the street where it became much lighter. “took a car.” thinking as he followed the scent trail. His lack of energy meaning he couldn't track the faster away across town. He had no idea of any of their whereabouts. Banking on the hopes that they didn't leave Derry already.

Making it only a few blocks into his tracking when snow started to fall. Blanketing the streets along with the small amount of scent trail he had.

“fucking!” cursing up at the snow falling. His chance at finding Beverly at all disappearing around him. All the more frustrating that he was so limited by his low energy. Knowing he usually had the power to sweep this weather away in the blink of an eye.

In a frustrated rage he clawed a nearby power pole. Taking a chunk out of it to spread across the road. Walking on in a random chosen direction to keep looking. Banking on the fact that he never slept, but they eventually would. They eventually would need shelter from the snow as well. This change in weather slowly turning into his favor as it heavily choked the roads from being driveable. Locking up the traffic to driving everybody in doors where they couldn't seem him wandering.

He was fully willing to hunt them down all night if he had to. Anger building up to the point he wasn't going to give any mercy this time. The time of being nice was over, despite what Beverly would say to stop him. Letting the anger grow into a burning rage that physically melted the snow around him. Clearing his path no matter where he went.

#It (2017)#pennywise #beverly marsh #pennywise x beverly marsh #beverly still kicks pennywise's ass #12 years after movie #between two voids ch 18

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