#i totally slipped yesterday and landed flat on my back

[love-and-monsters]

In the Woods

M forest creature X F human, 5,671 words. 

The world has ended and strange creatures now roam the Earth. You survived the end, but can you manage to make your way in this strange new land?

The trees above my head groaned and snapped. I froze, pressing my stomach to the ground. Something skittered through the branches, tiny claws scratching against the bark. It was probably a squirrel. It was almost definitely a squirrel. Regardless, I pressed myself close to the ground until it was gone.

When the forest was still and silent again, I pushed myself to my feet. My muscles were stiff and achy. I’d broken my back building my garden yesterday, and, regardless, I had to tromp through the woods in search of something to eat.

Despite my aches and pains, the hunger gnawing at my stomach, I was still one of the lucky ones. I was alive.

The Surge had happened nearly three months ago. Within two weeks, every major city had been leveled. The ground itself seemed to reach up, like the Earth was trying to slough off its outer skin. Plants had grown lighting quick, vines and roots overwhelming steel and stone within moments. Aftershocks had wracked the globe for another month, but when it was over, there was precious little of humanity left.

And then they had come. Strange creatures. Some of them looked human. Some of them did not. I avoided them. They were unnatural beings, things that grew plants from their bodies and were impervious to attack. I’d been with another group, for a while. The creatures shrugged off bullets and plants jumped to their command. I had been the only survivor.

I had no interest in fighting them anymore. The Earth was gone. I hadn’t seen another human in weeks. For all I knew, I was the only one left. I hoped not, but even if I wasn’t, I didn’t have much hope of ever finding another one.

I’d been lucky to find even a small patch of land to carve out a home in. I’d managed to scrounge up a tent and some blankets, located a few wild plants to start a garden, and even found some prepared food, though not a lot.

Hunting was my main way of sourcing food. I set several snares every night. Guns were difficult to find, bullets were worse, and even if you managed to locate both of them, they almost certainly didn’t go together. Knives didn’t run out of bullets and, providing the snares weren’t badly damaged, I could reuse them.

A rabbit already dangled from my belt. I was getting better at butchering them, and I was glad for its thick fur. Winter was on its way, and I could use all the warming items I could get.

Most of the traps were empty. I reset them one by one and headed to the snare closest to my camp. It was rare that there was anything in that one- maybe the animals knew I was there and didn’t trust the area.

Something crunched as I approached. I froze. The crunching continued. It didn’t seem to be getting closer or further away. There was a wet tearing noise and a sickening snap and my stomach rolled over. That wasn’t something moving through the undergrowth. That was the sound of something eating.

I crept slowly forward, shuffling my feet so I wouldn’t step on any twigs. I slipped behind a tree, breathing deeply. When I was sure I had myself under control, I peeped in the direction of the sound.

There was something hunched over the snare. The wet, snapping noises came from the corpse of a groundhog, which had been pulled open, its red, dripping flesh spread across the ground. The hunched figure was humanoid, roughly. Its limbs were long and spindly, with its fingers coming to dark brown points. Twisting, gnarled branches sprouted from its head, though they were small, probably so they wouldn’t impede its movement. It had long, deep green hair that fell loose down its back. It seemed to be wearing a long coat that flowed around it when it moved. The creature ripped chunks off the dead animal and bit down on them, messily tearing into them.

I gagged. I couldn’t help it. The creature’s messy smacking was disgusting. One of its pointed ears twitched and it spun around.

It was nearly seven feet tall, standing on thin, bony legs. It balanced on its toes, feet elongated like a four-legged animal. Red was smeared all down its front. Its face was human-esque, but its mouth had only sharp teeth and its eyes were flat green, no pupil or sclera. Its chest was the oddest part- it shouldn’t have been able to live. I could see its ribcage, but it seemed to be made out of gnarled wood. There was no skin stretched over its chest. Instead, there seemed to be a small bush in its ribcage, with tiny flowers sprouting out between the bones. It still lifted and fell with breathing, even though it didn’t seem to have any lungs.

Cold terror made me freeze. My knees were trembling. I brandished my knife, but I had no illusions. If this thing wanted to kill me, I would be dead. It could breathe without lungs. How would I even start to kill it?

We stared at each other. The creature cocked its head to one side. A long, slender tongue flicked out of its mouth, trailed around its lips. It seemed to be assessing me as much as I was assessing it.

We stood there for several long moments. I was almost afraid to breathe. Curiosity seemed to be the only thing keeping me alive.

Something snapped a few feet to my left. The creature’s head swiveled, ears twitching. It snarled, baring its red-stained teeth, then plunged off into the undergrowth. There was a crashing, snapping noise that got fainter as it moved away.

I let out a slow breath. Relief made me dizzy. It was gone. I had lived.

Mechanically, I cleared the trap, dragging the dead body away from it. I wasn’t eating it. Scavengers could have it. After some consideration, I reset it. If the creature came back, then I would consider moving it, but I wasn’t shifting it on a one-off. Maybe the creature was just passing through.

I headed back to my tent and butchered the rabbit. It was tasty, juicy. I tended my garden, making sure that everything was properly arranged before I headed to bed.

I didn’t sleep well that night. There was something howling in the woods, a constant screaming that sounded like a cross between a wildcat and a human.

Over the next few days, I became more and more convinced that seeing the creature hadn’t been a one-off. I didn’t see it hunched over, crunching on any more raw animals, but I saw signs of it. Traps that had clearly been tampered with, that had scraps of fur and blood on them, but hadn’t been reset. Trails of disturbed dirt around my camp. Claw marks on the trees, roughly around the creature’s height.

I didn’t like the fact that one of those things had set up camp near me and was stealing my food, but I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do. I hadn’t seen it again, and I was fairly sure I couldn’t drive it off. The only thing I could do was hope I kept avoiding it.

The howling at night hadn’t stopped. It seemed to be getting closer. The sound seeped into my dreams.

It was a chilly morning when I stepped outside to find a dead deer sprawling in the middle of my camp.

I froze. The doe had been killed by something with claws and teeth, its throat torn open and stomach slashed in ragged edges. But it hadn’t been savaged or eaten like it should have been. And it hadn’t been killed here. My camp wasn’t disturbed and I hadn’t heard the sounds of a struggle in the night. Something had killed the deer, dragged it to my camp, and left it for me.

There was a tingling sensation on the back of my neck, like something was watching me. I looked around. Nothing.

Was the deer a threat? ‘If you stay here, this will happen to you.’ I couldn’t move. I’d set up a life here. Moving would mean abandoning most of my belongings and starting over. With winter bearing down on me, it would be a death sentence.

I dragged the deer a short distance away. If this thing wanted to drive me out, it was going to have to do it the hard way. I wouldn’t be taking its threats.

My traps were undisturbed for the first time in a while. There was a chubby groundhog in one of them, which was nice. I attached it to my waist and returned to camp.

It seemed undisturbed. That was reassuring. I tried to fortify the camp a little more, setting up a makeshift fence. I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to stop anything, but it made me feel a little safer.

There was a pile of small animals in my camp when I woke up the next morning. They’d all had their necks neatly snapped and were arranged together neatly. Something intelligent had placed them there.

I buried them outside of camp. The tingling feeling of being watched was worse than ever.

The noises at night were getting closer. I could barely sleep. They were close by, just outside of camp. I kept thinking of that thing I’d seen in the woods, the human frame with those green eyes and strange, open chest.

Animals kept appearing in my camp. They varied in size and killing style- some of them had their necks snapped, some were messily eviscerated, some had simple, clean killing cuts. I dragged them out of camp each time. The amount of corpses was starting to disturb me. They were going to attract scavengers to my camp.

Several days after the corpses had started appearing, I emerged from my tent to see the creature hunched in the clearing. It was crouching over the dead body of a stag. There were no visible wounds on it. It could have been sleeping, except for the unnatural angle of its neck.

The creature froze, staring up at me. Its blank, green eyes betrayed no emotion. My heart thundered in my chest. I didn’t even have my knife on me- it was still in the tent. I’d gotten careless. If this thing killed me, it was totally my own fault.

The creature looked back down at the stag, then, slowly, deliberately, it pushed the carcass toward me. It looked up at me, back down at the stag, then up at me again. Its lips parted over its many sharp teeth.

“Good?” Its voice wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought, if such a thing could speak, it would have a rasping, unnatural quality to it. There was a strange tone to it, an echo that made it sound like two people were speaking at once. The dominant voice, though, was a baritone and surprisingly soothing.

“You can talk?” I said. The creature blinked at me. It took a moment to parse my words, then it rose to its full height. At nearly seven feet tall, it towered over me.

“Is this acceptable?” One of its hands spread, gesturing down to the carcass at its feet. I gaped at it, uncertain what it meant. It waited, still as a statue.

I licked my lips. There was an odd sense in the air, like I was partaking in some kind of ceremony I didn’t understand. But the creature was clearly offering the stag to me, and it felt improper to reject the gift. I took a deep, steadying breath.

“Yes. It’s… acceptable.” There was a faint quaver in my voice. “Thank you.”

The creature bent into a deep bow. Without another word, it turned and walked back into the forest.

I stared after it until it had completely vanished from view, then sank to the ground. My hands were shaking as I examined the carcass. I tried to review everything that I knew. The creature was the one that had been bringing me dead animals. Accepting the gift had some kind of significance, I was sure, but I didn’t know what it was. Stories of fairy deals and people being spirited away marched through my head. I shook them off. Whatever the creature wanted, it didn’t seem to want to drag me off anywhere.

I spent the rest of the day in my camp, carefully butchering the carcass. Maybe it was a bad idea to accept the gift, but I had to admit that it was a lot of meat. Properly dried, it could last a while, maybe over the whole winter.

It was silent that night. I finally managed to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

The creature was still gone when I emerged in the morning. And yet, the tingling feeling of being watched was worse than ever. Every nearby rustle or snap of a twig made me jump. Sometimes, I thought I saw something shifting between the trees, but it vanished whenever I tried to get a look at it. I couldn’t bring myself to leave camp again.

There was no avoiding going out the next day, though. The traps needed to be checked, and I needed to forage. It only took me a few minutes to realize I was being followed.

I couldn’t see what was following me, but I could hear it padding through the undergrowth behind me. I was pretty sure I knew what it was. The creature seemed to be content to follow me from a distance, so I tried to be content just ignoring it. I managed to catch one or two glimpses of it as it slunk through the foliage, but it was pretty good at staying out of sight.

It was as I was checking the trap furthest from my camp that I heard it. The heavy, crushing footfalls of a behemoth.

Behemoth was the general, catch-all term for the oversized monsters that roamed the lands now. They were enormous, unstoppable, and virtually unkillable. I’d seen one get hit with a missile and keep moving. When I’d been with other humans, a behemoth in the area prompted a mass exodus. You didn’t engage. You just ran.

I turned, slowly, and saw it moving through the trees. It looked like some horrifying combination between a bear and a moose. Larger than either, it had a great, sloping body patched in moss. Enormous antlers sprouted from its head, with points like spears, and its muzzle was large and full of jutting teeth.

Its head was low enough that I could see its enormous eyes rolling around to focus on me.

A growl vibrated from its chest, loud enough to set my bones trembling. I scrambled back, but fear was making my limbs numb and clumsy. There wasn’t a point in running, not really. It could catch me easily. And this one was enormous and heavy, ready to bulk up for winter. There was no way it was going to pass up such an easy meal.

I couldn’t turn to run. I couldn’t take my eyes off the enormous, saliva covered teeth as the behemoth opened its mouth. It could snap me in two with a single bite. A solid certainty formed itself in the pit of my stomach. I was going to die here.

There was an echoing, enraged shriek from behind me. I whirled around just in time to see a pale, slender form bolt out of the undergrowth and lungs at the behemoth.

The creature, the one that had been following me, had sprung to an impressive height and attached itself to the behemoth’s face. The behemoth staggered backward, swinging its great head back and forth. Its scream was great and keening, loud enough to make me clap my hands over my ears. The creature seemed undeterred. It raised a clawed hand and plunged it down, gouging a create cavern in the behemoth’s eyes.

Blood sprayed down from the behemoth’s face. I gaped. It was bleeding. I’d never seen one injured. I didn’t know they had blood. But the creature was tearing into it as easily as it would tear into any other animal.

With another grating scream, the behemoth turned away. Apparently, I was no longer worth the effort. The creature dropped from its face and screeched after it, claws digging furrows into the ground.

The thundering footsteps of the retreating behemoth sounded for several minutes in the otherwise silent forest. The creature stared after it, stiff and focused as a hunting cat. When the behemoth’s footsteps had finally faded into silence, it whipped its head back toward me.

Blood trailed down its front. It was dark, almost oily, and an odd sort of rust color. I froze. Had it chased off the behemoth because it wanted to eat me itself? But then why hadn’t it just killed me before?

The creature approached me so its face was only an inch from mine. Its solid green eyes bored into mine. Then it reached out and took my shoulders in its hands, fingertips trailing along my skin.

“Safe,” it said in a tone that could almost be described as soothing. “Unhurt?”

I gaped at it. The creature tilted its head further to one side. “Unhurt?” it repeated. It was asking me, I realized.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m… I’m okay.” I hesitated for a moment. “Thank you.”

Its strange chest rose as it took in another breath. Then it leaned forward, nestling its face into my neck. Its arms came around me in something like a hug. It made a long, quiet noise of satisfaction before pulling back.

It- he- had saved me. I swallowed and slowly climbed to my feet. He watched me, unmoving. After a moment of hesitation, I unhooked a rabbit from my belt and handed it to him. It seemed right.

He took it from me with surprising delicacy. His head lowered and his jaws snapped shut around a chunk of flesh, tearing it from the bone. I grimaced at the wet snapping and tearing.

He followed me as I continued on to the rest of my traps. This time, he didn’t even bother to hide himself. He walked just behind me or at my side, munching on chunks of rabbit. I kept glancing back at him. He blinked back at me.

I’d sort of expected him to break away when we made it back to camp, but he strolled into the clearing like he belonged there. I watched him as he padded around the edges of the camp, sniffing at things. I couldn’t very well drive him off- if he could injure a behemoth, there was no way I was going to beat him in a fight. And his presence was certainly less unsettling than it had been a few days ago. But I didn’t know what he was doing here. What did he want?

When I headed inside my tent for the night, he made to follow me. I froze in the entrance, staring back at him. Fighting him was still out of the question, but I did not want him in my tent with me. There was a long, tense pause, then the creature backed away and slunk to roughly the center of the camp. He curled up into a tight ball, apparently trying to sleep.

I retreated into the tent and wrapped blankets around me. There was something strangely forlorn about him curling up in the middle of camp, alone. He looked… small. Harmless. The unsettling feeling twisted in my stomach until I fell asleep.

He was still in camp when I woke up, ripping chunks off a fat squirrel. He made a soft humming noise as I walked toward him.

“You’re still here, huh,” I said. Talking to him felt weird. I knew he could talk back, but it still felt odd to try and have a conversation with him. He looked back at me steadily. He looked neither confused, nor comprehending. “I don’t know what you want.”

If he could understand me, he didn’t seem to want to answer. He just ripped another chunk off the squirrel and chewed it, still looking at me.

When he was done eating, he stalked around the camp, examining the border. Often, he would reach up and run his claws down the length of a tree, leaving long scores in the bark. I watched him as he completed a circuit, then started fussing at the small barrier I’d created. He seemed to be trying to build it up.

And so it went for several days. The creature stayed in the camp with me, building up a small barrier around the edge of the camp. Whenever I went out to check traps, he would follow me. Occasionally, he would hunt, dragging carcasses back to camp. He always allowed me to take some of whatever he brought. Eventually, I found myself offering a section of my hunts to him. It only seemed fair. A tense sort of partnership had formed between us. As odd as it was, I had gotten used to him. I was enjoying having some company. When I woke in the morning and he wasn’t present, I found a stab of loneliness sinking in between my ribs.

He meandered back into camp near midday, hands cupped around something. I glanced up at him. “Hey,” I said. “What have you got there?”

He opened his hands. There were clumps of bright red berries in his hands. He held them out to me, head tilted, waiting.

“Uh.” I didn’t recognize the berries and, with no leaves or branches to help identify them, I wasn’t going to eat them. “Sorry. I don’t think I can eat those. You can have them.” He blinked at me and extended his hands again. “Uh, no. I can’t have those.” I reached out and carefully curled his fingers over them. His hands were surprisingly warm. I was rather expecting them to be cold and corpse-like. Something twisted in my chest, a wave of loneliness that I couldn’t quite choke back. I was so unused to having someone with me. I’d managed to bury the feelings of loneliness, but they were starting to come bubbling back up.

He stared at me for a moment, then walked toward the edge of the camp, munching on the berries. I went back to the tending the fire. It was starting to frost overnight and the fire was becoming more and more necessary. If I wasn’t huddled close to it, I was walking around to keep my body temperature up. Despite not wearing much more than a cloak and pants, the creature seemed unbothered. He slouched next to the fire, staring into it. I could see the fire reflected in his eyes, a burning emerald flame.

As soon as the sun started to lower, the cold really set in. The sun and the fire were the only bits of warmth in the bitingly cold air and without one of them, the chill came on swiftly and remorselessly. There was no going back to the tent. I huddled next to the fire, shivering. The flame kept guttering in the wind. Leaving the fire to grab extra bits of wood was painful, my fingers stiffening in the cold and my skin almost burning in the wind. I huddled in on myself, wrapping fur over my body. It was still early winter and I was already half-mad from the cold. How was I going to survive the really bad months?

Something nudged my leg. I looked over. The creature was crouched next to me, half his face illuminated by the firelight. The sharp planes of his face made harsh shadows dance over his features.

“Need something?” I said. The creature pressed close to me. He was warm against me, driving the shivers out of me.

Slowly, like he was trying to give me a chance to stop him, he wrapped his cloak around my shoulders. He pressed me in close to his side. Warmth radiated over me, like there was a miniature sun beaming out from his chest.

I leaned into him. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that there was a human there with me. His hand pressed gently to my back, and where his fingers lay, warmth radiated through my skin. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer. My shivering abated somewhat.

Once I was feeling better, I looked up at him. He was blinking down at me, his green eyes difficult to read, but still utterly focused on me.

“Why are you doing this?” Speaking was a little difficult. Breathing in seemed to freeze my lungs. But being close to his warmth helped, and the curiosity was eating at me. He looked down at me. I wasn’t really expecting an answer, but his mouth opened and his voice issued softly forth.

 “Protect you.” His voice was whispery, still with that strange double-tone.

“Protect me,” I repeated. He lowered his head until his chin was resting on top of my head. I could smell him, I realized. It was sort of pine-like, with a smell under that, like sawdust.

“Pack protects pack,” he said. His chest shifted as he drew in a deep breath. “We are pack now.”

“We’re… a pack?” I tried to make sense of his words.

He drew back a little bit so he could look down into my face. “You accepted my offering,” he said. “We have exchanged prey. We are bound now- a pack.”

Things fell together in my mind rather quickly. The marking of trees, the prey dragged into the camp, the way he had lunged to my rescue- he was trying to impress me. He was courting me. And in giving him the rabbit, I had accepted.

I leaned into his chest. It shifted, and his arms came tighter around me. For the first time in a long time, I had a companion. An image of him leaping out to protect me filtered into my mind. A small smile tugged at me mouth.

“Okay. We’re a pack,” I said. And just like that, it was no longer me against the world. It was the two of us.

Underneath me, somewhere in that strange, hollow chest, a rumbling purr started.

I spent most nights with him after that. He was incredibly warm and when I wrapped a blanket around the both of us, it was impossible to be cold.

The first snows came and I carefully kept the camp free of as much snow as I could manage. He focused more on creating a stronger barrier around the camp, fussing with brambles and branches. There was much less prey in the traps now, and I’d taken to ice fishing with little luck. He was much more skilled at catching animals than I was now, and every few days he would bring back some small morsel to the camp. I was always fed first, and he would only eat after I was done. I found myself wondering exactly why I’d been so afraid of him in the first place- after watching him catch snowflakes on his tongue and chatter insistently whenever I didn’t finish a meal, it was hard to see anything frightening in him.

Whenever I decided to check my traps, he came with me. It was reassuring, to have him there. If he could drive off a behemoth, I was fairly certain there wasn’t much that could bother him.

It was when we were checking the traps on the edge of our territory (I assumed it was the edge- he marked the trees there and didn’t like going beyond that boundary), that he stiffened. His pointed ears twitched. A low growl started in his chest and he bared his teeth.

I went still too, straining to listen. There was a faint rustling, like something was moving through the undergrowth. That wasn’t unusual, though, not enough to make him react like that. I drew closer to him and he shifted, like he was trying to cover me with his body.

“What is it?” I whispered. He pulled his lips back from his teeth, the growl coming deeper and stronger.

Something snapped nearby, the sound echoing through the stillness like a gunshot. Our heads whipped toward the noise in unison. He gave a resounding, challenging cry.

Slowly, something emerged from the bushes. It was like him, I realized. The same species, or whatever. They both had long hair, open, wooden chests that had flowers twining out of them. The newer creature didn’t have the small, branch-like antlers, though, and something about its posture or its shape made me think it was female. Regardless, she stood taller than him and her claws seemed longer.

He made a snarling noise that I interpreted as a warning. The other creature’s head turned as she looked between me and him. An expression like confusion crossed her face and she made a questioning noise.

He snarled out another warning, a thin strand of saliva dribbling from his bared teeth. The other creature considered him for a moment, then crouched down, teeth bared. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. I recognized a hunting crouch when I saw one.

She lunged. He knocked me aside and took the brunt of her attack, rolling backward into the snow. I expected shrieking and snarling, but they were oddly silent as they rolled in the snow. All their energy was focused on defeating the other.

He was trapped beneath her, teeth snapping everywhere he could reach. She was struggling to keep a hold on him, but it was clear she was in a better position. Her claws dug into his side and her teeth snapped dangerously close to his throat.

I needed to do something. But what could I do? These things were practically indestructible, at least to humans. But I needed to help him. Her teeth snapped close to his throat again and he made a strangled whining sound.

Fuck it. I grabbed a stick from the ground and lunged. If she killed him, she was going to kill me anyway. Might as well die trying to protect him.            

I jammed the splintered end of the stick down into her face. It just barely missed her eyes, scoring a long, bleeding line down her cheekbone. She shrieked, startled, and turned to see her attacker.

It was the opening he needed. He drove into her, knocking her off him and into the ground beneath them. Before she could focus back on him, he swung down, claws plunging them deep into her shoulder. Blood sprayed into the white snow. With a final, agonized shriek, the other creature squirmed away and bolted back into the forest. He didn’t bother to pursue her. He just stood and watched as she vanished into the trees.

As soon as she was gone, he turned toward me. “Okay?” he asked, looking me up and down. “Safe?”

“Yeah, I’m all right. You?” He appeared uninjured, for the most part. There were a few small scratches and he was moving like he was in some pain, but he didn’t seem badly hurt.

“Bleeding,” he said, pointing a claw at me. I looked down. There was a long cut running down the length of my right forearm. It must have happened when she rounded on me. I hadn’t even been able to feel it. Now that I was aware of it, I could feel the stinging pain.

“Ow,” I said, probing at it lightly. It wasn’t particularly deep, but it wasn’t shallow, either. He moved closer to me and crouched, taking my arm delicately in his hands. His long, sinuous tongue slid out of his mouth and ran once along the cut. The pain grew dull, more of an unpleasant tingling than anything, and the blood dripped sluggishly.

“Home,” he said, tugging on my arm. He stayed close to me as we headed back to camp. We leaned on each other. I appreciated the comfort.

When we returned to camp, I dragged out my medical kit. He helped dress the wound, giving it a few more licks. I was a little leery about allowing him to clean it like that, but he seemed to know what he was doing. I figured it couldn’t hurt that much. Once it was fully wrapped, I lay down next to the fire. He lay down with me, arm draped over my body.

“Who was that, the one that attacked us?” I asked. Warm breath huffed against the back of my neck.

“Wanted a pack. Tracked my scent,” he said. “Was not happy that I already had a pack.”

“She recognized that we were… uh. A pack?” I said. There was an odd, fluttery sensation in my stomach.

“I claimed you,” he said. “My scent surrounds you. As your scent is around me.” He nuzzled closer to me. “We fought her off. She will not return. She knows she is beaten.”

“You did most of the work,” I said. He laughed.

“Would not have won without you.” He pressed his head into the back of my neck. “My mate.”

I looked up at him. “Mate?”

He nodded slowly. His eyelids were starting to droop. “The first two members of a pack are mates,” he said. “We will grow our pack over time. But not now.” He leaned into me, eyes closing. “Now we will wait.”

I reached up and stroked my fingers through his hair. He made a soft purring noise and leaned into me more. The world was different now, I thought. It was a place with new creatures, new ways to live, and you needed to be new in order to survive in it.

It was new, but perhaps it was good. With a yawn, I settled in against my mate for a nap.

#exophilia #forest monster #forest screature #forest deity #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster mate #OCxOC #MxF

[enthusiasticharry]

The Secrets You Keep

summary: you're a stripper, and you meet Harry off shift. what happens when he finds out?

request: hiiii would you be able to do something like stripper y/n? not where they meet at the club or anything but something natural like at a cafe or something but she keeps it from him bc she thinks he’ll leave her? then he has a guys night at the strip club and sees her perform? but he loves it and she’s a bit embarrassed? idk but that kinda vibe if ur up for it! X

word count: 8.3k words of fluff, smut and angst if you squint (and i really mean squint) also not proofread, sorry! 

masterlist    |    asks

It never occurred to you that once you left full time education you’d end up becoming a stripper. It wasn’t the occupation you had envisioned for yourself, but it was the one that paid the best money and even though it shouldn’t be — money was the thing that you needed the most. You lived in a small, one bedroom flat that you shared with your Grandma who had no income and little pension meaning that you was the only source of income for the two of you. Obviously it was hard upon you, but your Grandma had done so much for you when you were younger that you wanted to help her as much as you possibly could. Granted, finding a job as an eighteen year old that was enough to help pay the bills and for the treatment your Grandmother needed wasn’t the easiest, and that was how you stumbled across the club and the jobs there. Your Grandma didn’t know how you received your income, and you planned to keep it that way for as long as you physically could. 

“Have you got any private dances today?” Jocelyn, also known as Sapphire amongst the people in the club, asked as she started fixing her makeup in the mirror next to yours. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed, spraying a small amount of hairspray upon your curls, “I haven’t spoken to Elliot yet.” 

“Apparently some big shot businessmen are coming in tomorrow.” Ruby adds from the other side of you, applying a lipstick that matched her name to her lips. 

“Ugh.” Sapphire groaned, “That means old men with small dicks wanking to us instead of being with their probably very lovely, loving wives at home.” 

“They lust after the taboo.” You add, applying a small amount of lipgloss to your lips, “They want what they can’t have, and brag when they get it.” 

“They have money though.” Ruby shrugged, “Haven’t had many tips this week. I’d probably do anything for a couple hundred quid tomorrow.” 

“Not anything Ruby.” You turn to look at her, shaking your head at the younger girl, “Stand your ground. Don’t let them take advantage of you.” 

“I won’t.” She smiled, “I learnt from the best.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

As a fresh eighteen year old, just as Ruby was now, you could’ve only hoped for someone to help you and guide you through the trails and tribulations you endured at the club. That’s why you sort of took the younger girl under your wing and helped her as much as possible. 

It wasn’t a lot. Granted, with what they did the majority of it was on their own upon the stage or in a private dance but you wanted to make sure she had small tips to help her handle herself in any situation that could occur and that she someone to talk to if she ever needed it. 

“Are you working tomorrow, Emerald?” Emerald was your stage name. 

“No.” You sigh happily, “It’s my day off.” 

“Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.” Ruby smiled. 

You certainly did. 

The next morning, after helping your Grandma get ready and to the hospital, you make your way towards the small café you usually went to during your Grandmother’s chemo sessions. They usually lasted around three hours, and whilst you offered to stay with her, she usually forced you to leave and spend some time on your own, claiming she didn’t want you to see her at her worst.

The spring days had just started to warm up, so you dressed yourself in a summer dress you had picked up for cheap at a charity shop. You carried your tote bag with your book in over your shoulder as you pushed past the people on the street.

It wasn’t usually this busy, and looking around you saw no free tables but a few free chairs dotted around. Your favourite table, tucked away in the far right corner by the window had been taken by a man sat reading, just as you would’ve been. You toy back and forth with the idea of going to sit over there as you walk over to the counter. 

You order your usual, a peach iced tea, and wait for the kind barista to make it. Your free days, usually, landed sporadically. They normally occurred when your grandmother either had chemo or a hospital appointment and that’s only because she can sometimes be really ill after them and needed you to look after her. Even though Elliot was not a good person by any means, he understood your situation and did help as little as he could. 

“Excuse me.” The man looked up from this book at you, “Is this seat taken?” 

“Uh. . .” 

“It’s fine if it’s not!” Your quick to add, “There’s just no other seats.” 

“No.” Your smile falters, “No! I mean that the seats not taken. It’s yours.” 

“Thank you.” You drop your tote bag down on the floor, holding your hand out to the man, “I’m YN.” 

“Harry.” He shakes your outstretched hand. 

There was something oddly familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on why. He dressed quite casually, a punny t-shirt that said something about health on it and you didn’t want to seem too weird and bend down to look at what he had on his bottom half but you suspected it was something just as interesting. 

You take your book out of your bag and place it on the table in front of you, flicking through the pages until you found the page you had left off at. 

As a child you loved to read. Your grandmother always read you a bedtime story before bed and it lead to English being your best subject at school. Whether it be the creative writing aspect, or the analytic — you were just good at it. It was your highest grade at GCSE, an A, and your highest grade at A Level, a B.

You didn’t exchange any more words with Harry the entire time you were there. Periodically you looked up at him, and somewhere deep down you hoped that he did the same for you but you couldn’t be too sure. The book that he was reading seemed interesting enough, something about watermelon, you had noticed. You had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t about watermelon but you could never be too sure you supposed. 

A whine almost escaped your lips when you realised that you had to go pick up your Grandmother and your book had just gotten interesting. That was the problem when you read, you could sit and do it for hours and not even look up. It was something so interesting to you that you could immerse yourself in a world different to the one you lived in and slip out of reality for however long and return back to normal as though nothing had happened. 

“Thank you for letting me sit here.” You smile as you pack your bag up, “Goodbye.” 

“Bye.” 

You left feeling sort of fuzzy inside. You hadn’t spoken to the man at all really, but he was kind and certainly handsome with his tousled brown hair and gentle smile. That was probably going to be the last time that you saw him, and you probably should’ve asked for his number at least but you didn’t and that was why you walked away with him laying heavy upon your mind.

The next day, you wanted nothing more than to leave in the middle of your shift and curl up on the sofa. Instead, you were stood in a private room in the back of the club swirling your hips for a man sat upon a chair in the middle. 

“You’re fucking fit.” He moans, and you almost throw up in your mouth. 

“Thank you.” 

You move yourself so you’re hovered over his lap, twisting your hips to beat of the sultry song spilling out of the speakers. If you didn’t need the money, or have a bills to pay you certainly wouldn’t be doing this. 

“Fucking sort.” That’s when his hand drops down upon your behind, squeezing the flesh harshly. 

You stand up, flipping around so that you’re looking at him, “Hands off.” 

“Babe.” He throws his head back, “C’mon I’ve paid bags for this dance.” 

“And you pay for a dance, and the rules state no touching.” 

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, babe.” 

“Better not.” 

It does, and that’s when you get up and leave. He still has to pay, which is a plus but it just isn’t the best feeling. The job you do isn’t one that people necessarily respect you for, but there are rules in place to help with that. You and the other dancers within the club were human beings and deserved the rights that any other person has. 

“You okay?” Ruby presses her hand to your shoulder as you powder your under-eyes, “I heard he was touching.” 

“Yeah.” You smile at her through the mirror, “Started behind and they he just full on groped me.” 

“Men are pigs.” 

“I second that statement.” You laugh, “But you know what they’ll say.” 

“That we teased and antagonised them to do it.”

Throwing her a deadpan look, you nod. It was something that you had dealt with for the past six years of your life and even though you did hate it and wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up every time it happened — you had gotten used to it. 

“Did you have a nice day off yesterday?” 

“I did thank you.” You smile, “Read a bit. Spent some time with my Grandma.” 

“Sounds lovely.” Her face then twists into one that you can’t quite pinpoint, “You didn’t miss much here.” 

“The businessmen not up too much?” 

“No they paid well.” She nodded, “We just had to watch them wank their micropenises at us.” 

You curl your nose up at the thought, “That sounds pleasant.” 

“Totally.” She snorts. 

“Emerald. Ruby.” Elliot sticks his head into the room, “Get your asses back out there.” 

Ruby rolls her eyes and you laugh. Your job certainly wasn’t your favourite but some of the people around you made it more pleasant.

Two weeks later you find yourself sat in the corner of the café down the road from the hospital, your book open in front of you and a peppermint tea sat upon the table in a pot. Your Grandmother’s second round of chemo was slowly coming to the end of its stint and even though you wanted nothing more than for her to be back to the epitome of health, you would miss spending time at this small café. 

“Hi.” You lift your head up to see Harry stood there, slightly breathless, “Is this seat taken?” 

“It’s yours.” You smile, watching him drop his book on the table.

This time you could see his entire outfit. A white t-shirt with some writing on that you missed, a floral shirt over the top paired with red corduroy flares. You were right the last time that you met him —he did have an amazing sense of style. You, however, bought whatever was the cheapest or on sale that seemed acceptable to wear in public. 

“How have you been?” 

“I’ve been okay.” You smile, “You?” 

“Good, thanks.” He scratches the base of his neck, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Oh.” You have to stop yourself from smiling too much, “I only come when my Grandma has an appointment and they’re usually two weeks apart.” 

“Ah.” He nods before his face curls, “I’m sorry if that seemed creepy.” 

“It didn’t.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt within your stomach, “I just thought I wouldn’t see you again.” 

“Couldn’t let that happen.” Heat rises up your neck as he beams.

“No complaints about that from me.” 

“That’s good.” He rests his hand upon his chest, letting out a deep breath, “Thought I was punching a little over my weight.” 

“You’re not.” You cheeks hurt from smiling, “It’s cute.” 

He looks down at his book. He seemed so shy, as though he had a confidence to talk to people but once they complimented him or something to do with him it completely changed. It was intriguing. He was already nicer to you than most people you’ve met of the opposite sex in your life and you’re let to learn anything about him apart from the fact that he reads Bukowski and likes black coffee — it certainly wasn’t much to go on. 

“How long do we have until you have to go back to your Grandma?” 

“Not long.” You sigh sadly, “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I understand, it’s okay.” He flashes you a small smile, “Can I walk you back to the hospital?” 

You ponder his offer for a second, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You walk back to the hospital brushing arms with one of the nicest people you’d ever met, and you couldn’t be happier. 

“Has your Grandma been having treatment for long?” 

“It’s her second round.” You explained, “They originally removed the tumour and it went away but it came back. They caught it quickly and she’s back in bay 11 for three hours every two weeks.” 

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, “That must’ve been tough.” 

You shrug, “She’s a fighter, I know she is.” 

“I don’t doubt she is.” He smiles, “She’s got an amazing granddaughter to stay alive for.” 

The walk to the hospital isn’t long enough in your opinion. You speak about a few things, and you learn he does music and that’s when you put two and two together and realise that he’s actually Harry Styles from One Direction. Harry wished he could’ve recorded your reaction when you realised. 

Harry had never met someone like you, and he had met a lot of people in his life. You were sweet, and kind and so gentle but also confident and held yourself in such a strong way that he couldn’t help but want to know you, the real you. 

“This is it.” You stop in front of the entrance closest to the chemo ward, “Thank you for walking me.” 

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, “I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but can I get your number?” 

“Uh. . . yeah.” 

“Great.” He beams, “At least now I won’t have to hope you show up at the café.” 

You swear you felt your heart burst. 

During your shift a couple of weeks later, you don’t notice your phone light up a message. You actually don’t notice at all until you arrived home that night. You had already checked on your Grandma, who was sound asleep in bed, and that’s when you allowed yourself to drop down upon the sofa with a sigh. 

Seeing an unknown number pop up on your screen at first had confused you, but once you had looked further into it, your palms started sweating. 

Hi YN. It’s Harry. I know it’s been a while but I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. I hope you and your Grandma are well. 

Your heart starts to beat faster. The message you had awaited for weeks was here and you had no idea how to act, never mind what too reply back with. The only thing that spiralled around within your mind was that he had been thinking about you. 

In your head, you imagined him pacing around in his large house trying to figure out what to send you, just like they do in the movies. You at least hoped that was what he had been doing over the past couple of weeks. 

Hi Harry! It’s lovely to hear from you, sorry it’s late. I’m okay, Grandma’s getting there. How are you? 

You throw your phone down on the sofa next to you, trying not to giggle like you did as a schoolgirl whenever you were messaging boys. You nearly cried whenever you phone ran out of credit and you’d end up having to run to the store to get a top up in the morning with your spending money and explaining to them what had happened. You were thankful that your upgrade didn’t need that. 

I’m okay. Glad to hear about your Grandma. I know this is probably really weird and totally out of the blue, but are you free this weekend? I’m leaving next week for a little while and I really want to see you before I do. 

In your head, you ignore the end of the message about him leaving and focus on the fact that he wants to see you. Harry Styles wants to see you. You hoped it was a date, everything pointed it to be a date but you didn’t want get too ahead of yourself. 

You haven’t had a boyfriend since your first year of Sixth Form, and the first date you were going on since then was going to be with Harry Styles of all people. 

If you pull some strings, work an extra long shift on Saturday and please some of Elliot’s special clients — you may be able to get Friday night off. It was a maybe, but over the next two days you could make it a yes. You hoped that you could make it a yes. 

You’ve never, in your six years of working at the club, missed any of your shifts for anything other than your Grandma suddenly falling ill, and those were on rare occasions. You certainly deserved this day off.

I’ll have to check with my boss but I think I could do Friday night? If that’s not a problem for you. 

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from internally freaking out. 

Sounds perfect. How about I pick you up at 8? 

You wince. It wasn’t as though your were embarrassed of where you lived because you weren’t. You’ve worked hard to be able to pay for the flat and everything in it but there was something about showing it to someone who you’ve only just met and had no intention of explaining your situation to wasn’t on the top of your priority list. 

Is there any chance I could meet you somewhere? 

Of course. Where do you fancy eating? Italian? Thai? 

Italian sounds good. 

Great. I’ll send you details over. 

Thank you :) 

See you then, YN. Sweet dreams. 

Night, Harry. 

You slept well that night. 

“I just don’t think I can spare you Friday.” Elliot sighs, “I’m sorry YN.” 

You have to stop yourself from wanting to cry. You don’t use up all your holiday days, and you work way more than you should or that you’re paid for but you don’t complain and you just get on with it. The one time you ask for a shift off, his stubborn ass says that he cant do it. 

“Please, Elliot.” You sign, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I just need this day off.” 

“And I need my best girl on the floor. Need the best of the best.” 

“There are plenty of other better girls than me working here.” 

He shakes his head, “You’re the favourite, YN. Need you to be there.” 

“Elliot.” You sigh, leaning forward in the uncomfortable seat you were sat in, “I’ve worked for you for six years and I’ve never asked for a day off like this before.” 

“Yeah but—”

“—and! I’ve never asked for a day off apart from going to the hospital and you know that.” 

“I couldn’t exactly say no to you—”

“I’ve worked every shift you’ve ever asked me to, covered for people when you need it.” 

“Stop it!” He holds his hand up to silence you, “Just shut up for a second.” 

You clamp your lips shut. If you didn’t need to stay on his good side to get Friday off you probably would’ve said something about how rude he was being. He’d always been rude, but he paid you and the rest of the girls so you all chose to ignore it. 

He ponders, and you know the cogs are turning within his brain as he scrolls through his laptop, typing a few things. He takes his glasses off his face and drops them dramatically down on the table in front of him. 

“Ruby will cover your shift.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you!” 

“Don’t be thanking me too quickly.” He points his finger, “I need a favour from you.” 

“Anything. Well not anything.” 

“In a few weeks times there’s a big birthday party coming in.” He explains, “I need you to be the star of the show, do private dances and all the good things like that.” 

“Just that?” You ask, knowing that it could be a trap knowing Elliot’s track record. 

He nods, “Just that.” 

You look at him sceptically, “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch.” He holds his hands up, “A few big names are coming, that’s all. A list celebs that have asked to use the back exit.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

“Let me know the date and I’ll do it.” 

You stand up, happy that you’ve managed to get your shift tomorrow off and that you can go on the date you have been excited for since you met Harry and was introduced to the world with him in it. 

“Have fun at your thing Friday.” 

“Thank you. . .?” 

You don’t think you like Elliot being nice to you. 

Friday night rolled around quickly and you were thankful for that. After helping your Grandma with her own dinner and into bed, you start getting ready. You curl your hair, brushing it out until its in what looks like effortless waves but are actually quite hard waves to achieve. You do natural makeup, something completely different to makeup you usually wear in one of your shifts. You try to keep all of your features soft, different to how you usually look on a day to day basis. You dress in a long white polka-dotted maxi skirt, paired with a thin long-sleeved jumper that would keep you warm due to the ever changing British weather. 

You had done a little bit of research on the restaurant Harry had sent you the address for and learnt that it wasn’t the most expensive restaurant ever, but one that was way out of your price range. It meant that you had to dip into the fund that you keep for occasions where you need a little extra money or you will use in the future when you eventually move out and busy your own place. 

The tube was crammed, seeing as though it was a Friday night and the majority of people were either coming home from work and stating to go out for end of the week drinks. You knew that the club would start to become heaving as the night grew and a part of you was thankful that you didn’t have to work today, and you were given a small break from the hell that is working at a strip club. 

The restaurant, when you arrived, definitely looked fancier than it had online. The bar stood against the corner wall, the right hand side of the restaurant had booths covering the walls whilst stand alone tables scattered around the rest of the room.

You were surprised when you saw Harry, already sat at the booth in the far right corner. He lifted his hand up in an awkward sort of wave and you couldn’t help but beam at him. He had a shirt, an expensive looking white shirt with a yellow and blue jumper over the top. You hand felt so excited to see someone since when your Grandma went into hospital for her tumour being removed and you couldn’t see her for a few days. 

“YN.” He sighs, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” You smile, slipping into the booth across from him. 

“Was starting to think you wasn’t going to show up.” 

“I’m sorry.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I underestimated how bust the tube was going to be.” 

You can tell he wants to pry but instead he says, “It’s okay.” 

His nails were painted yellow, a few of them painted lilac as well. There was something so simple about his nails that you just loved, and if it wasn’t weird you probably would’ve stared at them for way too long for it to be acceptable. You knew he had tattoos, and you could see the cross on his hand and the the anchor peaking out from underneath his shirt and you wanted to see more. 

“I like your nails.” You smile, running your own fingers over your own nails underneath the table. 

“Thanks.” A blush creeps up his neck, “I did them last night. Sort of calmed me down, I was quite nervous.” 

“Nervous for what?” 

“This.” He nods, “I haven’t been as nervous for a date in a long time.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” 

In your twenty four years of living, you’ve never had someone say that they were nervous to see you. You’ve been nervous to see and do many things in your life and you hoped that somewhere along the line it would’ve been the same for somebody else and yourself but you had the slight suspicion that wasn’t the case. Hearing those words out loud, coming from someone who you’d never expect it too was special, and you were going to keep that for as long as you physically could. 

“I did.” He looks down at the table briefly, “I’ve never liked a girl as much as I like you before.” 

“You don’t really know me.” 

“I’d like to get to know you.” 

That’s what you do. For the rest of the date you don’t stop talking. Even though you’re starving and could eat your fist, it takes you the longest you’ve ever taken to eat your food because of how much you spend it talking. 

You’re just about to dig in to your desert when your body physically halts, “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up?” 

“I, uh, I—”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t what to! I know I can be pretty invasive sometimes.” 

“No, it’s fine!” You take a sip of your drink to swallow down the dryness within your throat, “I don’t live in the nicest building, or in the nicest area and I guess I was embarrassed.” 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“But I was.” You drop your eyes to the plate in front of you, “I know I shouldn’t have been and that it was stupid but I just didn’t want you judge me before you truly knew me because of where I live.” 

“I hope you know now that I wouldn’t have done that.” 

“I do.” 

You let Harry drive you home. Even though you would never admit it to his face just yet, you really liked him. He was kind, sweet and funny and everything you could ever want in your person. You haven’t said this in a long time but you love the person you are around him and you wouldn’t change it for the world if you didn’t have to. 

He stops in the car park outside the building of flats you live in and you can tell he’s thinking deeply about something but you try to not concentrate on that too much. 

“I would invite you up.” You laugh, “But I don’t think the sofa in the middle of my Grandma’s flat whilst she snores in the next room is the most romantic.” 

He scrunches up his nose, “I can’t say that it is.” 

“I’m sorry.” You drop your head to look at your hands that are tested on your knees, “I really wish I could offer you something. Anything.”

“It’s okay, YN.” He uses his finger to move your head up so that you’re looking at him, “I don’t expect anything from you. I hope you know that.” 

“I know.” 

He hesitates for a moment, and you can feel the finger that was rested upon your chin move upwards so that its upon your cheek. You flicker your eyes closed and just mask in the feeling of his touch against your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You eyes open as you nod your head, letting out a shaky breath at the sheer surprise you feel at his words.

“Want your words, darling.” 

“Please kiss me.”  

You close your eyes again and you feel his lips touch yours. It's light at first, but you can’t contain yourself and you end up pushing closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his lips upon yours. Your fingertips grip the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer without hurting himself too much on the centre console. Even though you both don’t want to, you pull away as you start to loose breath. 

“You okay?” Your chest heaves up and down as he speaks. 

“Never been better.” You sigh, resting your forehead against his. 

“Good.” 

You kiss again, this time its more passionate and you can’t help but let out a small whine as he pulls away. The smug look on his face after hearing that sound was enough to send your stomach doing flips. 

You really didn’t want to do this, but you had too: “I have to go.” 

“It’s okay.” He smiles, “I understand.” 

“Okay.” You reach for the door handle. 

“I have to go away for a bit.” He sighs, “I’m writing some music over in America but when I get back, do you want to maybe go on another date?” 

“I’d love to.” 

He presses one last kiss to your lips and you leave the car, muttering a small, “Bye.” 

You feel giddy. As though you’re sixteen again and just come back from your first date with your first boyfriend. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and in all honesty, you had no idea how to handle those feelings. You certainly wouldn’t admit that you screamed quietly into your pillow in excitement that night. 

You couldn’t wait for him to return home. 

Two weeks. Harry was away for two weeks and even though you had only kissed him once, twice if you actually count how many kisses there were, you missed him more than words could explain. You weren’t one to usually message first, so you did end up waiting until Harry had a spare moment to message you which wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked but you couldn’t complain. 

You almost felt as though you had been drip fed this new life with Harry in, only to have it taken away quicker than you could blink. It wasn’t forever, and that was probably the thing keeping you sane. This had all happened in such a short amount of time but you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

The only thing that limited how far you could take this was your job. 

Harry had obviously been curious and during a text conversation in the first week of his week being away — he asked what you did. After having a small freak out you decided to say that you worked in a bar. It was a small, white lie and you hated yourself for it but telling him that you were a stripper just didn’t feel like the best thing to do at that time. 

You just weren’t ready to tell him, and that was totally okay. 

Speaking of your work, tonight was the night of the big party that Elliot made sure you could come to. The club had held celebrity parties before, so you weren’t entirely nervous but every time someone mentioned it you could feel your heart speeding up slightly. 

“Emerald.” You turn to look at Elliot who’s trudging towards you, a bag in hand, “Here’s your new outfit for tonight.” 

“New? I thought I’d just wear the one for special occasions.” 

“This is a special, special occasion Emerald.” He dropped the bag down in front of you, “Wear this.” 

Taking the material out of the bag, your mouth dropped open at the sight of the emerald green lingerie in your hands. It was delicate lace that you feared you’d rip if you weren’t too careful. Putting it on, your breasts slightly spilled over the lace, and whilst your front was covered, the thong back of the lingerie left your ass on full display. It was beautiful, you couldn’t dismiss that but you just hadn’t ever worn something so skimpy before. You pulled your black silk robe over your shoulders, fastened your black heels onto your feet and made your way towards the side of the stage. 

The skimpiness of the new lingerie did send more butterflies to the pit of your stomach than you were originally hoping for but it was only another hurdle for you to get over which you knew you’d be able to do. 

You heard the music start to play, you slipped your hand through the gap in the curtain and opened it, revealing yourself to the room. 

Here goes nothing, you mumble to yourself. 

Harry’s jaw dropped at the sight of you on the stage. It certainly wasn’t his usual scene, a strip club, but it was a friend of a friends birthday and he had kindly been invited and he wasn’t about to turn it down. He wasn’t in the band anymore, and certainly didn’t have to hide that he went to places like this anymore, even though they weren’t his favourite. 

He couldn’t bare his eyes off of you. The way your body moved to the rhythm of the song, your darkly manicured nails pushed the robe of your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie you were wearing. Harry would be lying if he said that his cock didn’t start to stir at the sight. 

You. The girl who he thought spent her days reading, and looking after Grandma had a secret persona that he only wanted to explore more. 

“My word.” One of the men in the group spoke, loudly so that everyone could hear him, “She’s fit as fuck.” 

“To get my hands on her.” 

Harry clenches his jaw, and his fist that rested on the arm of his chair. If he wasn’t in a very public place where people could record him, he’d give that man a piece of his mind. He probably would but he’d do it when nobody was around so the man could truly understand what he was saying to him. 

“Do you think I could get a dance with her?” The birthday boy asked. 

“It’s your birthday.” The dickhead with no morals spoke, “She might give you something special as a present.” 

“The rules say no touching.” The words slip out of Harry’s mouth before he can stop them, “So I highly doubt that.” 

“I’m sure you’d be saying something different if you were in his position, Styles.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the stage, watching as you seductively bent down to pick up some of the tips that had been thrown on the bottom of the stage. The song was slowly finishing and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment bubbling within him.

Harry watched your lean legs as you strutted towards the side of the stage, flicking the long wig on your head over your shoulder, seductively running your tongue over your bottom lip as you pulled the material of the lingerie down from your breasts. 

Harry bit his lip, his leg bounced, he ran his hand up and down his thigh. He tried to do everything in his power to distract himself from the rousing within his trousers but he just couldn’t do it. The flimsy material dropped to the floor, your red painted lips curled up into a smirk and you made your way behind the curtain, not showing any of your truly bare skin. 

If you hadn’t been imprinted on his brain before, you certainly were now.

You could hear the grunts and groans of happiness, and a few cheers whilst on stage but the lights were so bright that you couldn’t see anything past the first row or so. The tips you had received were good, and you were pleased about that. 

You received your robe and bra back from the stage and pulled them back onto your body. Your solo dance was always a hit for Elliot, and you supposed that was why he’s kept you on for so long and if you were honest, they were the easiest to do. Private dances always made you too uncomfortable, and in the six years you’ve worked there there had only been a handful of people that made you feel comfortable when it came to private dances. 

“Emerald.” Elliot walks in smiling and you assume everything is swell on the floor, “They fucking love you.” 

You nod your head, muttering a small and awkward, “Thank you.” 

He hums, “You’ve been requested for a private dance, and he’s promised to pay you accordingly.” 

“Really?” 

Another hum, “Room Two. I think he’s already there.” 

“Thanks.” 

He leaves the room, a bounce in his step. You suppose that this is a good thing and he’ll finally get off your back for the time you took off for the date with Harry. You at least hoped. 

You checked yourself. You made sure your makeup still looked flawless, your breasts sat perfectly within the material and your arse looked good. You brush through the wig once and make your way towards room two, the smaller of the three private dance rooms which helped it be more intimate. 

You smiled at the bouncer at the door, Gerry, a man who looked as though he could kill someone with a single punch but was actually a massive teddy bear. He was good at his job of keeping everyone safe and making sure that the bad eggs that came in left just as quickly. 

Watching the door slowly open, Harry felt his heart stop. He had been pacing up and down the room ever since he had walked in, and only just stopped when he heard the creek of the door. He couldn’t believe that you were in front of him, and you certainly couldn’t believe that he was in front of you either. 

“YN. . .” He sounded breathless. 

“Harry?” He could see your chest rising and falling at a quick pace, “What? How? I thought you were in America.” 

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I got back last night.” 

“Why are you here?” He can hear the lump in your throat as you speak, your eyes glossing over. 

“A Birthday party.” 

“Yours?” 

“No!” He’s quick to interrupt, “A friend of a friend. It’s not mine. Mine’s in February, and I certainly don’t think I’ll be having my party here. Not that there’s anything wrong with here! It’s lovely! You’re lovely! I’m rambling.” 

He was so gosh darn cute and if you weren’t in the middle of a break down, you probably would’ve laughed or at least reacted to his little word vomit. It was probably the quickest you’d ever heard him talk, not that it was hard. 

After a few minutes of contemplating what to say, you sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

His voice is soft, his features falling, “What are you sorry for?” 

“Lying to you.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to suppress the tears, “I didn’t want to.” 

“Hey, hey.” He walks over to you, placing his finger underneath your chin just like he had done in the car weeks ago, “No need to get upset, I’m not.” 

“You should be.” You bottom lip quivers, “I lied to you and I had no intention to retract that just yet.” 

“YN.” He rests his palms on your cheeks, “I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want to know why.”

“I was scared.” You admit, trying to do anything but look up at him, “I didn’t know what you’d think or if you’d change your mind.” 

“Change my mind about what?” 

“Wanting too, you know. . .?” 

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t. There’s no reason for me to.” 

“I’m a stripper Harry, it gives you full reason to not want to be associated with me.” You lift your hand to wipe your under-eye. 

“I’m not judging you, YN, I said I wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t be upset if you did.” 

“YN.” His voice is stern, more so than it had been, “I don’t care that you’re a stripper.” 

“You don’t.” 

“No.” He smiles, “I don’t.” 

“Fuck.” You let out a breath of relief, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs, “If you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to.” 

You had never met someone like him, and no matter how many times he surprised you that was just fact. Granted, you hadn’t had time to date anyone with looking after your Grandma but another reason you didn’t was because of what they would think of you. 

You knew that not everyone would be was understanding and lovely as Harry had been, and that was just because of the lovely person he was inside and out. That was the reason you didn’t tell him, because even though you had an inclination that he was accepting but you didn’t know whether that was just a façade or he was like that in real life. You loved that he was like that in real life. 

“Can I be honest?” You nod, “I enjoyed it.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to cross your lips, “You did?” 

He hums, beaming a smile at you. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” The corner of his lips tugs upwards, “I’d still love to get that private dance.”

You roll your eyes and thwack his shoulder playfully, “If you must.” 

“I’ll wait for you.” He nods, “Until your shift is over, if you want.” 

“Please.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

You hadn’t even made it completely into Harry’s house before his lips were on yours. He pushed you up against his front door before he’d even shut it properly, his lips falling upon yours with a hunger you hadn’t felt since you last kissed him. 

Maybe it was his hands rested upon the small of your back, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” He smirks against your lips. 

“Not the priority.” You reply, not bringing your lips away from his. 

“Noted.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Upstairs?” 

“Upstairs.” 

You follow him up the stairs, your hand rested firmly in his. You’re too distracted by the man in front of you to take any notice of the house or where you were going. 

Harry had kept true to his word and waited for you. You secretly wished that you could have recorded the group’s reaction as you walked towards him, a small smile on your face. After bidding them goodbye, the two of you jumped in a taxi that Harry had ordered and made your way to his house, or what you expected to be his house and you weren’t disappointed. 

The second you step into the plushly decorated room, you’re kissing again. His hands slide down to rest upon curve of your ass, his ring-clad fingers immediately squeezing the flesh. You groan lightly into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip through her parted lips. You grip his bicep as he leads your backwards into the room, your calves hitting the bed as he does so. 

Your lips part, you fall back onto the bed. You look up at him through your eyelashes, your fingertips reaching to pull the shirt he was wearing over his head. You almost swoon there and then at the sight of the tattoos littering his skin. You lean forward and place a kiss on his lower stomach, just before his happy trail that slips into the band of his trousers. 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. 

“What are you planning?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “What do you want me to be planning?” 

He groans, “Anything at this point.”

You reach forward, taking the button of his trousers in your fingers. You look up, “Is this okay?” 

“More than okay, baby.” 

You unbutton his trousers, wrapping your finger in the waistband and pulling them down. You can already see the tent in his boxers. You wondered how long he had been like this, you wondered if it had been since your dances. 

You blush slightly as you hook your fingers now into the waistband of his boxers, looking up at him. You can’t handle the look on his face, the slight blush but the boyish grin mixed with his curls that had fallen forward upon his forehead. You pull the fabric down, exposing his hard cock. You watch as it hits his stomach briefly, the tip swollen. You lift your hand up, wrapping it around him before giving him a few pumps. His stomach quivers as you do so, a groan escaping him as you wrap your lips around his tip. His eyes flutter closed as you start to bob your head, his fingers reaching forward to grab your hair into a ponytail. 

“Fuck baby.” His hips involuntarily buck forward. You sink further down, going as far as you could. 

Harry couldn’t believe how good he felt. It had been a while since he had been with someone, and it was worth the wait. You pulled away too soon in his opinion, but the sight of you, all teary eyed and sloppy sent his mind spiralling. 

“God.” He bent down and wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting you up so he could move you further up the bed, “You’re fucking killing me here.” 

“Good.” You giggle. 

He’s quick to remove your shirt, allowing you to pull your jeans down at the same time. He didn’t expect you to still be in the lingerie from earlier, and if it was physically possible, he swore his cock hardened even more. 

“Fuck me.” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours again as his fingers fumble with the latch of your bra. You bite your bottom lip as he wraps his around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. He uses his hand to knead the other one. You can’t help but grind your hips forwards, a feeling bubbling deep in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Harry.” You moan, withering under his touch. 

He kisses down from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck until he’s littering them all the way to the band of your underwear. 

“Is this okay?” 

“More than okay.” You whine as he lets out a breath upon the thin material. 

He pulls your underwear down, teasing you by placing kisses across your thighs and pubic bone. He’s so close, yet so far from the place that you need him the most. He licks a stripe across your centre, until he wraps his lips around your clit. You can’t help the moans that escape your parted lips as he nibbles and flicks your sensitive nub, her thighs starting to shake as he coaxes her closer and closer to her orgasm. 

“Don’t stop.” You thread your fingers through his hair, “God! Harry.” 

He pulls away, and you let out a shaky breath as he does so. 

“No fair.” You whine. 

“Life isn’t.” 

“Just shut up and get a condom.” He does as you request, placing a small peck to your lips as he reached over to grab a condom from the drawer beside the bed. 

You watch as he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling the rubber down his length. He presses another kiss to your lips, catching her eyesight once more.

“Are you sure?” 

“More than okay.” 

He hovers over you, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds to coax a moan out of your lips. He groans into your shoulder as he pushes in, biting down briefly to suppress the sound. 

“Don’t.” You moan, scratching your nails down his back as he starts to thrust in and out of you, “Let me hear you.” 

“Fuck.” You squeeze him slightly, “Do that again.” 

He speeds up, catching your lips as your hips meeting quicker, the only sound in the room being your skin slapping each others. You slip one of your hands between the two of you, your nimble fingers rubbing your clit. 

“Where have you been all my life?” You can’t help the pleasurable giggle that escapes your lips. 

“Feel so good, H.” 

After a few more thrusts, a couple more circles of her clit and she’s comes around his cock, squeezing him tightly as she did so. 

“Fuck, shit, oh god.” 

He continues to thrust in and out of you, coaxing you through your orgasm and towards his. He seems to go deeper and deeper until he’s spilling inside the condom, his moans louder than any you had heard before. 

“God.” He collapses on top of you, taking a few seconds to collect himself and let you collect yourself, “Haven’t felt like that in a long time.” 

“Glad I could be of some assistance.” You push the hair that had matted to your face off. 

“You should keep secrets from me more often.’ 

“I’m never doing that again.” 

“Good.” He pecks your lips. 

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic

[kaistarus]

Welcome Home

Pairing: NishinoyaXReader

Words: 1.3K

Summary: Nishinoya is visiting Japan after being away for a while, but when his sister forgets to pick him up he thinks he’s stranded.

A/N: This idea has been festering for a while. I’ve been wanting to write a Nishinoya airport fic since I started writing for him so here it finally is lol

Masterlist

Nishinoya rolled his shoulder, leaning against the headrest in front of him while he gazed out the small window. The slick ground was lined with blinking red lights-the only source of guidance in the pitch-black night as the plane rolled slowly toward the loading dock. He watched crew members in neon vests chat while loading cargo into the plane in the closest gate before the pilot gave parting instructions.

The sound faded to the background with the rest of the passenger’s chatter as he tugged his duffel from the overhang. He yawned, palming an eye as he shuffled toward the jetwalk with the other exhausted travelers. His eyes landed on an elderly couple whose hands were clasped together as they sleepily moved in front of him.

A pang struck Nishinoya’s chest.

It had been a long time since Nishinoya had been back in Japan. He loved traveling-meeting new people, experiencing new cultures, eating new food-but sometimes it was hard not having a permanent place to call home. 

He ruffled through his pocket to pull his phone as the familiar scene of the airport came into view. The flow of people continued toward the baggage claim as he fished for his eldest sister’s contact.

“Hey, Yuu,” she yawned into the receiver. Nishinoya furrowed his brow and the sound of sheets ruffling.

“I just landed.”

The line was quiet for a moment. “That was today?”

His grip on the phone tightened. “What do you mean ‘that was today?’ we’ve been talking about this for months?”

Nishinoya’s shoulders stiffened when he realized a few people were glaring at him for raising his voice, including a woman bouncing a small child nobody wanted awake. He smiled warily before turning away, clenching his teeth in frustration. “We talked about it yesterday.”

“It must’ve slipped my mind,” she said nonchalantly. The amount of control it took him not to yell was painful.

“How am I supposed to get back?”

“Metro or something?”

“Metro or some-” He scoffed. “It’s a three hour fucking drive. It would be like five or six hours with how many transfers I’d have to-”

“Why don’t you call (Y/N)?” She yawned again, cutting him off and setting his blood boiling. “I’m sure they’d give you a ride.”

Nishinoya felt everything freeze and his grip on the phone tightened. “They’re busy.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“Shut up,” he growled. “You said you were coming, so that’s what-”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“What do you mean I’ll-” The line went dead and he stared slack jaw at his phone.

What the actual fuck had just happened. He shoved his phone deep in his pocket, seething as he stomped down the staircase toward the baggage claim. He supposed he could call Asahi or Tanaka, but with how long the drive was he may as well just get himself home and not waste their time.

He didn’t even humor a cab with how expensive it would be.

Nishinoya wanted to call you. He wished for every excuse to call you, but you informed him you were too busy to see him. After over a year of not seeing each other Nishinoya had imagined you’d drop everything when he said he was coming back, but at your casual reaction he had felt his heart break. He wasn’t sure if he could even bring himself to pull up your contact.

He groaned, instead rehearsing the speech he was going to give his sister once he kicked down her door. How the hell had she forgotten? She had been the one who bought his plane ticket to Japan. She had been the one who reminded him of his flight that day. She had even nagged him about not packing last minute like he usually did.

He stomped dramatically once he got off the stairs, his eyes flickering at people meeting their loved ones who actually cared enough to pick them up. He watched family’s hug, friends poke at vending machines, some weirdo slept against a wall, people answered cheery phone calls, unlike his that had been-. Nishinoya did a double take and his steps slowed as his brain processed the sleeping weirdo.

He abruptly turned and crept over, crouching in front of the person who he did in fact know.

You were slumped beside a vending machine, your head hanging limp to the side with your sweatshirt bundled for a pathetic pillow. Your arm was slung across your stomach and in your hand was your cell phone, blinking with unread notifications. In your other hand was a small poster board that Nishinoya’s hand was levitating toward.

Your nose wrinkled and you let out a soft whine, shuffling around before your eyes slowly blinked open. Nishinoya smirked, hiding that his heart was racing a million miles a second.

“Good morning.”

Your eyes took a while to focus and he could see the cogs in your brain turning before your eyes widened. He opened his mouth to tease you, but you were diving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck before he could get a word out, knocking him flat on his butt.

“You’re here,” you laughed, pulling back and cradling his cheeks, then you pressed his cheeks firmly and furrowed your brow. “You’re here…” Panic struck your face. “You’re here.”

Nishinoya blinked at the stages of grief you’d gone through and nodded in your grasp. “I’m here.”

“Oh no,” you leaned forward and placed your head against his chest. “I fell asleep.”

“You did.” He tugged your hands off his cheeks, coaxing your head off his chest and smiling at you softly. “You’re lucky someone didn’t steal your stuff.”

“That’s not what I-” You groaned, sitting back. “I wanted to be here to see you and I made a stupid sign like your always talking about and it was going to be romantic.”

He cocked his head to the side, mulling what you said over before reaching for the poster from earlier. On the back he read your neat handwriting ‘Ride for Nishinoya Yuu’ and his chest filled with warmth. He always complained to you about everyone having a cool chauffeur when he landed places, so this was your lame attempt at giving him that.

He met your disappointed look and with an affectionate stare, pulling you back against his chest.

“I love you so much,” he confessed. Nishinoya felt you grip the front of his shirt and he pulled away and panicked when he heard a sniffle. “Are you crying?”

“No, shut up.”

“Liar,” he smirked, wiping at a stray tear trailing down your cheek. “You’re totally crying.”

“I said, shut up,” you palmed your cheeks. “I missed you, okay? Sue me.”

Nishinoya’s heart swelled at the confession and he felt like an idiot for ever thinking you would stop caring about him. He leaned his forehead against yours, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “I missed you too.”

“Sorry, I lied,” you mumbled, lightly holding the wrist of the hand holding your face. “I wanted to surprise you, but you sounded sad and I felt terrible.”

Nishinoya leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours shortly and pulling back with a dopey smile. “I love you.”

You matched his smile, wrapping your arms around him. “I love you, too.” You nuzzled against the crook of his neck. “Welcome home.”

He let those words sink in as he wrapped his arms around you, sitting on the floor of the airport while his duffel rotating forgotten on the nearby luggage claim. He felt silly, how moments earlier he’d been thinking about how he wandered with nowhere to call home when his home was right here.

His hold around you tightened.

His home was you.

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya yu #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya fanfiction #nishinoya yū #nishinoya #haikyuu nishinoya #hiakyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyu #nishinoya x y/n #hq nishinoya #yū nishinoya #yu nishinoya

[kpophours]

Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched. 

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse. 

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently. 

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards. 

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home. 

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad. 

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits. 

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you. 

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression. 

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy. 

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come. 

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan. 

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee. 

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing. 

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it. 

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins. 

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - “Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk. 

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now. 

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all. 

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right. 

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

[masterlist] | [requests] 

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[ssa-daddyhotchner]

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 7

Chapter Selection

"How does it feel to see him again", Chloe and I were in the kitchen making food. 

"It was... good", she walked over to me and gave me a glass of water. "What'd you guys talk about?", I didn't want her to get the wrong idea. 

"Jack", I left it there. Chloe was definitely going to get the wrong idea... like always. I wanted to see him, both of them. I sat there and brought the water to my lips, taking a sip. "I recall you telling me he had a wife..." I nodded.

"When we saw him yesterday his ring was missing- is he single." 

I sighed, "I'm not sure." He was single, all I had to do was make the move. I stood up and walked away going into my bedroom, as I walked through the door I flopped onto my bed. Not having the energy but I knew I needed to get up. 

It was nearing the afternoon, which was normally the time I'd actually get up and go for a jog. I laid down and contemplated, rolling off the bed forcing myself up. I took my time standing and going to the closet, throwing on some leggings and a tank top. 

I tied my hair in a ponytail and put on some running shoes. Grabbing my phone and headphones, going through the hallway. I called out, "I'm going out, I'll be back later." Not sure if she heard me, it wasn't really my concern. 

I lived 10 minutes away from a park so I jogged over there. Crossing the roads on the way, when I got there I sat down for a bit to catch my breath before I started jogging again. My lungs weren't the best, I always had a small problem when It came to working out because of it.

 I took a few deep breaths, calming myself and started again. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I kept a steady pace. Listening to music made it easier to focus rather than worrying about what other people thought as I passed by them.  

I turned onto a trail that led into the woods, wanting more of a challenge. I wanted the conditions I ran in to be more... realistic because in the FBI I won't constantly be on flat smooth concrete. 

I ran for a few more minutes not seeing anyone, passing the trees and going deeper. Then there was one person, a man. 

Being cautions I slowed down not wanting to attract his attention. I was too worried about the person in front of me that I didn't notice the small dip in the trail. 

I took one step forward and my foot landed into the small hole, "Son of a bitch!" I landed on the floor, the man that was ahead of me slowed down when he heard me. He turned around and started walking towards me. Fuck me. 

I felt like I twisted my ankle. If I would've just kept going I wouldn't be on the ground right now. I was turned the other way so I didn't see his face and he didn't see mine. "Are you alright?"

 "Yeah, totally fine", I was holding in my groans of pain. "Can I see?", I internally sighed, turning towards him. I was too focused on the pain to notice who was talking to me. Of course. 

He knelt down to my level and observed my ankle, checking for any sign that it was worse than I thought. He looked up at me and stared into my eyes. "How bad does it hurt?", he was pressing on various places gently to see where it hurt specifically.  

"Scale of 1-10? ... a 6 or 7", he pressed down on the right side and I winced in pain. 

"Can you walk?", I nodded leaning forward and grabbing onto his shoulders. "You sure?", I smiled through the pulsing pain. 

"You're like the Riddler, asking all these questions." 

Hotch chuckled and held onto me, "I'm just trying to make sure you're okay. If asking questions is how I'm going to do it, then I will." I stood up next to him and he held onto my waist with one hand stabilizing me. 

We took a step forward and I started limping, "Ok- yeah you're not walking... Get on." He went in front of me and gestured to his back. We're really doing this ok...

I hopped onto his back and my legs swung around his waist; his arms tucked under legs and thighs to keep me in place. My arms went around his neck as I held on. I rested my head on his shoulder, looking ahead. 

"Since when do you run here?", he cocked his head to the side, listening to me. "I always have, but I've been coming here more often. Now that Jacks been staying with Jessica, I get more time myself." 

"Time that's well needed... So what are we doing for class tomorrow?" He kept his head forward walking back to the park. 

"Who's the Riddler now." I pressed my head into his neck giggling, tapping his chest, "Stop." 

He started giggling to himself, poking fun at me. The sound of his laugh echoed through the trees, to me it was rewarding to hear it. He never really did just let himself have fun let alone make jokes. Seeing him so out there with me was a gift in itself.

Once he settled down he started explaining, "Well since you asked, we'll be working on criminal behavior first. Seeing as I'm a profiler and have more experience in that area I figured that'd be a good place to start." 

"Great choice professor", I picked up my head and saluted him, which he noticed. I saw him glance down then back up whispering, what I thought was 'you're too cute'. I'm not sure if that's what he said but it's what I heard. 

The thought of him actually saying that just... 

We were quiet for a while, just enjoying the surroundings. We passed a stream and all that could be heard was the birds and the water, I closed my eyes and turned my head into his neck. Feeling tired, before I ran into him I was running for about an hour. Half of that time was spent in the woods. 

I started slipping down, Hotch stopped and jumped both of us up, he got a better grip on my legs.  Not realizing just how far the both of us were out, by my guess a mile or two. I readjusted and took a deep breath, all I could smell was him. His scent was intoxicating, the faint smell of his body wash.

It was welcoming. We got closer to the normal trial in the park, I could tell from the people talking in the distance. "Did you need a ride home?", I picked up my head and looked at my ankle. I could walk home, I would just be limping. "Yeah, I'd appreciate that." 

Getting out of the woods and on the sidewalk he walked us to his car. He went to the passenger side and opened the door, letting me climb off him and crawl into the seat. Closing the door he went around to the drivers side and sat down. 

"It's still the same place", he nodded and continued on to my apartment. The 10 minute jog to my place turned into a 5 minute drive. 

He pulled into the parking lot and turned off the car. He waited for me to get out, but he knew better than that. He was waiting for me to ask, "Can you help me up the stairs?" He grinned and got out of the car going to my side, letting me get on his back again.

Hotch made his way up the stairs until he got to my door, I opened it. When we walked in, Chloe was settled down on the couch, "Oh... a friend." She said with a smirk, I stared at her and rolled my eyes.  Pointing to my bedroom, he set me down on the bed. 

"Thank you", he shook his head. "No problem- uh don't forget to put a brace on it." 

"I won't", he started making his way out. "See you tomorrow." He left my room and I heard Chloe exchange words with him as he went through the front door. 

#Thomas Gibson #hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner #SSA HOTCHNER #aaron #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #Criminal Minds

[missinghan]

countless skies upon me ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : fantasy; action; fluff; angst 

❖ word count : 16,5k.

❖ warnings : explicit language, mentions of blood + violence

❖ summary : when you stumble upon the notoriously skilled swordsman of Kalmburg, your heart finds itself wanting to get closer to his.

❖ a/n : this is the full extension of this blurb that I wrote impulsively after rewatching an old anime, please give swordsman minho a whole lot of love 🖤

prologue.

Minho’s wooden sword gets knocked out of his grasp, landing onto the floor with a loud series of clattering noises. The little boy widens his eyes when the tip of another wooden sword hovers over his stomach and he looks up to be met with the stoic gaze of his mentor. 

“What did I tell you yesterday, Minho?” 

“That I need to make more progress on improving my reaction time,” he answers grimly and rubs his forearm, head hanging low in shame. “I need to know the timing of the enemy like the back of my hand and use my own timing in which they don’t expect.”

His mentor retreats his sword swiftly, humming, “You got distracted, you weren’t observing my stance before I lunged at you. By narrating the enemy’s preparation, you can partially map out their movements, when and where they’re aiming for. That’s why you were taken aback and this allowed me to disarm you with little effort.”

“But master!” Minho pries stubbornly. “It’s not very fair if an opponent can’t fight with their sword, is it? A sword is supposed to be the coil of a swordsman’s strength. It’s all we’ll ever have.”

A fatherly smile dances on his mentor’s lips this time. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things,” he places a warm hand on Minho’s shoulder, speaking softly. 

“And it doesn’t matter if you still have your sword or not, fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

one.

Market stalls crowd the route, selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, grilled meat hanging on lines after lines of roasting skewers. Powdered spices lay in rust red and dusty yellow and bright green piles spill from sacks as large as feed bags. Mixed and familiar scents cut through thin air, people bumping into each other, toes trodden on. Lovers stroll hand in hand, casually browsing whilst housewives hustle and bustle, hollering over background noises for the best price.

Minho ends up walking through the entire market before getting to work that day with an apple in his stomach, silently like a phantom, blending into the sea of people effortlessly. 

To him, work is just like another day in the market for stallholders, another pile of weapons needed to be honed and repaired for blacksmiths and another batch of bread to bake early in the morning for bakers. 

Except his job is somewhat… questionable and considerably dangerous for a guy who looks nothing like a warrior. At least that’s what he’s been told. Rather pretty-looking eyes being hidden under his long fringe, a high and slim nose bridge, sharp philtrum. He’s not that tall either and doesn’t necessarily have as many muscles as he initially wanted. But the swordsman doesn’t listen to his muscles to fight, he listens to his mind and becomes one with his blade. 

There’s no need for a shield or armor, for he thinks they’re doing nothing but getting in his way and slowing him down during combats. Minho draws his sword with no more qualms than a middle-aged lady gossiping about her irritating neighbors and slashes his enemies while thinking about what he’ll be making himself for dinner that day. There’s no joy for him in violence, but he takes extreme pride in a good clean kill. He has a reputation to maintain and that reputation keeps him safe in this world. 

A man approaches Minho from behind, leaning himself flat against the wooden bench that the swordsman has situated himself on for the past hour. The guy never makes the first move, that’s what he’s been told. 

“Twenty thousand units,” the masked client speaks up, his voice mellow and slightly muffled. “If you can bring back the head of a shadow wolf that’s been lurking around the Dunst forest these days, I’ll double the price. Silver-white fur, brown eyes. Make it quick too, and you can have sixty in total. He’s been eating up one too many of our sheeps already.”

His lips twitch subtly and he crosses his legs, keeping his tone low but clear, “Shadow wolves can’t handle the cold that well, why would one roam around a place with such tremendous decrease in temperature at night?” The sound of coins crashing against each other in the leather pouch suddenly irritates him. 

“C’mon, Black Swordsman, how would I know these things? I’m just merely a guy who’s trying to get by in life,” the man chuckles lightheartedly but Minho isn’t finding anything funny. No one ever gets the upper hands in a deal with him. “Look, I heard you’re good at your job and you sure look like you know what you’re doing so why don’t you just take the mon—“

 Minho stuffs his hands into his pocket and sighs, “Don’t think so lowly of me, I don’t accept deposits. I’ll only get my money once I’m done with the job. Meet me here tomorrow at noon, sharp. And if I don’t show up, consider locking your sheeps inside.” And with a grin through his flat lips under the mask, the cryptic client leaves Minho alone by the bench, fully satisfied with his attitude and reactions. 

The brunet gazes at the space ahead for a good ten seconds, thinking rather deeply about this before waving his hand absentmindedly, calling out to the errand boy who’s been hiding behind the ugly tree. “You can come out now, Jeongin. Did you catch any of that?” he asks without turning around. 

“Every single word,” Jeongin cancels the spell that’s been his cover during their entire conversation before stepping out, pursing his lips together. “A guy who’s trying to get by in life but still has twenty thousand to pay you beforehand? Sounds absurd to me.”

“Enough with the brainless chatters, you know what to do,” Minho pushes himself off the bench when his muscles start growing sore on the hardened surface. “If you do a good job, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Now run along, Chaeryeong is probably looking for you, don’t be late to class.”

Jeongin holds him back by the sheath of his sword, “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” 

“If anything, I might bring his head back instead of the wolf’s,” Minho replies monotonously, and Jeongin lets his hand fall to his side. The swordsman turns on his heels to see concern laced in the younger boy’s eyes, this prompts his voice to soften. “Don’t worry, a single wolf can’t hurt me,” he ruffles his hair before slipping into the crowd again, making his way towards the mountains to enter the Dunst forest. 

He wouldn’t mind dying alone, actually. It’s not like he has any regrets.

two.

The city of Kalmburg has it that no one has ever surpassed Lee Minho when it comes to the art of swordsmanship. 

“If you’re going to take on a guy who can parry a crossbow bolt with his sword as he’s contending against five other men, it’s time to re-evaluate the direction of your life—preferably while running away as fast as you can.”

The man walks up to the center of the town square every single day at the crack of dawn, his figure fully covered in a big black cloak, the hood thrown lazily over his head. All you can see is the strides he takes with his black combat boots. He almost belongs, but not quite. Kalmburg is known for its dashingly ornamental architecture — a white granite surface with serene spires can be seen from the castle at the top of the hill, soothing atmosphere and generically nice residents. Some say no beauty can be compared to its sunrise due to the dashing sight of a lake situated before the town square’s gate. 

Whereas, Lee Minho gives people a stark contrast with his dark aura and the black sword hung firmly on his back. He easily takes in everyone’s attention with a single sweep, his midnight orbs setting on nothing before he leaves as expressionless as he’s entered. His purposes and motives always remain hidden; hence the allure. Though it’s not hard to see how he’s making a good living on a daily basis. 

For one, he slays monsters; and for another, he deals with people. Outsiders might be surprised at how many units the Nobles are more than willing to pay him as long as he comes back alive, with the beast’s head limp in his hands. There were times when he’d come back covered in a sea monster’s gastric juice, other times he could barely walk back to the town because his spleens got severely damaged. But most of the time, he’d return as though he just got back from a stroll, outstretching his palm to collect the payment. 

Dealing with people is far more troublesome than those deadly creatures, Minho constantly tells himself so. It’s true, after all. Because when careless juveniles aren’t able to snatch their parents’ spare change on the dining table, they decide it’s a brilliant idea to challenge him for a duel. If they win, he’ll have to follow their request without receiving a single penny. But if things go the other way around, they will most likely come home crying for their mother. Such a nuisance. 

Today is no different. 

Moving into the morning dew is a shadow wolf. His paws kiss the earth not gracefully, but rather with evident difficulties and there’s a ray of exhaustion in that pair of bronzed eyes. The wolf has seen better days. His silver-white fur is thin and it clings to his frame like an old cloak in a gale. Even from several yards away, Minho can count each rib as they’re sticking out, he sees dejection in his movements as if he’s gonna let himself tumble to the ground any moment. 

Minho carefully inhales, pulling out a silver dart from the back of his belt. He raises his hand and aims precisely for the pine tree, just a strand of hair away from the wolf’s ear. When he exhales, the weapon comes flying past the creature before embedding itself to the wooden surface. 

The wolf whips his head towards the swordsman, locking eyes as he lets out a mere cry of pain, crimson dripping down on the side of his head. As Minho pulls his hood off of his face, slightly dubious that the creature of darkness will turn into a wisp of black smoke to take flight deeper into the forest, the wolf shakes his head before lying down on the soil, unable to coordinate his limbs. Then with his great grey head on his bloodied paws, he closes his eyes. He’s giving up on his life. 

“Something’s wrong. Shadow wolves’ blood isn’t supposed to be red,” Minho holds his breath in utter disbelief, taking a step backward. He’s got the wrong target. No, that client scammed him. 

A branch snaps. 

Minho reaches for his sword when the sound of thin air being ripped apart rings inside his eardrums, two blades coming in contact with each other and he has to squint slightly when tiny sparks of flame come to life between the weapons. Instead of looking at the raider, he quickly deflects their slash again. Hypothetically speaking, there are two possibilities: the first is that both swords are too weak to withstand the pressure of the blow, so they’ll simply break - in the exact same fashion. The second is in which case both blades are durable enough to field the contact, they will bounce right back. But his unwanted guest seems to detest him so much to the point they keep their sword grinding against his until their weapons slip against each other, creating a wave of grating shriek resonating through the woods, dust being thrown in the air. 

He stumbles backward, the sole of his shoes tearing the leaves below into bits. His vision shakes a little from the sudden attack before trying to focus on the figure before him. The first thing that he sees is the white wolf on the button of your silver-accent cloak. That’s the royal guards’ emblem.

“You,” the female voice catches him by surprise. “Lay another finger on that wolf now, I dare you.” You know all too well who this man is, and like hell you’re going to let him do what he wants just because of some cheap units.

Minho’s fully aware that his beating heart is thundering inside his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline flowing in his veins or those round eyes glaring at him from under the sunlight. He sees the grip on the hilt of your rapier being tightened and that’s when he regains his composure, taking in a deep breath. If he gave up now because of a pretty face with a deadly blade, he’d damn his reputation as a swordsman.

“Oh that wolf is all yours,” he smiles at you fakely, wiping the beads of sweat on his cheekbones away. “But you’re going to have to do better than snooping around on people.”

Minho steadies his grip on his sword, trying to keep himself together in the deafening silence, “So, who’s making the first move now?” The tonal mockery in his voice irks you and he seems to notice that too by the slight smirk tugging at his lips when the muscles on your face twitch. 

One. Breathe in.

You’re getting into your stance sideways, your blade eye level. This man doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. 

Two. Breathe out. 

Minho isn’t letting his guard down this time despite being slightly impressed with your skills. Usually, there aren’t many girls who take up sword fighting, at least not in his hometown so he thought you’d be sort of a novice. But your dexterity is beyond incredible, he can hardly see the tip of your sword. 

Three. “I am.”

You charge first by swinging your rapier at him from above, Minho receiving the clash with the flat of his blade. He circles away from you, keeping his sword in motion while constantly changing his stances and attacks. Rapiers aren’t very suitable for slashing or slicing since the blade is so long and thin, it can only allow its owner more speed, more precise stabs and thrusts but greatly lowers their defense. So if he can just catch you off guard…

When the tip of your sword grazes just above his clothed ribs, Minho’s reflexes kick in and his blade knocks yours away almost immediately. With the bewildered look on your face as a signal, he dodges as you attempt another stab at his left ear. This causes you to trip on your heels, your balance quivering the moment his sword slashes at the button of your cloak rather than your neck. To prevent yourself from falling, you jump and do a backflip safely, breath’s fraying as the piece of clothing is completely ditched by a tree. 

“You are strong, just like the rumors,” you breathe out a stoic comment, chest heaving up and down rapidly. 

“You aren’t too bad yourself either,” Minho grins; he hasn’t felt this much eagerness to fight someone other than monsters before. In other words, he’s never faced someone who knows what they’re doing with a sword as skilled as you are. 

You cock a brow at him, confused, “Why are you smiling?” 

“I don’t know, actually,” he shakes his head and hearty waves of laughter bubble up inside his stomach. The brunet sheaths his sword with a loud ‘clunk’, walking towards you to place a warm hand on your shoulder. “But good fight, you really know how to hold a sword.”

“Wait… aren’t we going to finish this?”

Minho picks up your cloak from the ground, outstretching his palm, “You seem like a person who knows what it takes so I don’t think that’d be necessary anymore. But I’d be glad to take you on again?”

This man is baffling you, and not in a good way either. Nonetheless, you still slide your sword back into its sheath and accept his handshake. “So you’re gonna leave that wolf alone right?”

“Only if you tell me what happened to it,” Minho replies firmly, receiving a nod of approval from you. He actually seems like a solid person. Perhaps you can trust him. 

“That’s my brother, Chan.”

three.

The forest hums with life all around you. You lift your head ever so slightly when the sunlight slips through the green leaves and branches, lighting up the dirt path ahead decorated with outgrown roots and wildflowers. You gaze up at the fluffs of clouds, searching for the birds that are singing sweetly. Minho trudges on before you a couple of steps, finding the natural fragrance of the current surroundings rather soothing. It’s making his eyes droopy.

“What happened to him again?”

He stretches his limbs tiredly and yawns like there’s no tomorrow, making you scrunch your nose in disapproval. He’s not even paying attention to you. It’s been at least an hour since you’ve mounted an unconscious Chan on your horse — Noir and accepted this cryptic stranger as your guide for now. You’ve never been to this forest more than once so it’s best if you follow him—an experienced individual in order to get your brother back safely. 

You frown at him, giving the back of his neck a firm slap while your other hand is holding onto the rein. “Ow, what was that for?!” he yelps. 

“You weren’t listening, were you?” 

“Remotely,” he hums out a reply, “I didn’t sleep that well last night.” And that’s when you notice the dark spots under his eyes, the occasional tears whenever he squints his eyes under the sunlight. The job’s more draining and demanding than you thought. 

To be fair, slaying monsters and getting your hands bloodied might not be the best thing to do to a degree of morality but you really can’t judge him when you’ve only known him for a few hours. Minho’s far younger than you’d expected too. You’ve had your strolls downtown from time to time with your fellow royal guards and it’s not hard for rumors to fly. People were gasping and bouncing on the balls of their feet talking about this mysterious swordsman who’s dressed completely in black, a single one-handed sword, no shield, and no armor. They really had you thinking he was an old man in his forties who has no regrets, just trying to get by in life no matter what it takes. 

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him charming the moment you saw that handsome face under the big cloak. 

“He was recovering from a business trip so our mage decided to treat him with a special potion,” you nibble on your bottom lip, looking over at your worn out brother sideway in concern. You’ve wrapped his injuries up with some of the cloth that you’d packed before leaving this morning, he should be fine. “I guess something went wrong; hence, he’s magically turned into a wolf, panicked and bolted out of the castle. And you know how cruel people can be sometimes…”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Minho feels a big lump in his throat when you secretly toss a glare at his direction. “I should have known something was off the moment he started bleeding red.” He shakes his head, highly disappointed in himself for mistaking Chan as a shadow wolf. His professional etiquette forbids him ever repeat the same mistake. 

You stop dead in your track, cocking your head at him in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

Wait, no, something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong. It can’t be that simple. “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” His steps come to a halt, only a few feet away from you and before you can even tap him out of it, Minho snaps his head back, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Tell me, when you first entered the forest, did you encounter any wolves? Even just one?”

“N-No, I don’t think so,” you stutter, slightly flustered at the sudden decrease in proximity. But you soon shake the heat on your cheekbones away when he lets go of you, pacing back and forth to think hard about something. “Uhh- what are you-”

“Shh shh..”

“Did you just shush me-” The wind whistles in your ears and you stumble backward when Minho draws his sword, the blade coming in contact with something hard and deflecting it successfully. Your jaw is locked at the sight of an arrow sticking to a tree not very far off. That could have been your head instead...He just saved your life.

“Someone’s coming, take cover.”

Minho carefully tugs your horse over to a nearby slope when you hop off the main pathway, waving him over to a big tree. You both get down on one knee as the sound of armors crashing against each other grows louder, dreadful footsteps becoming more detectable. Swiftly, Minho notices the color of your bright blue cloak can easily be detected right through the bush and clicks his tongue in annoyance. He unbuttons his black coat, silently draping it over your smaller figure. For a second there, you widen your eyes at him but soon ensconcing yourself obediently under the leather fabric. 

Stepping into your vision are two familiar faces, Minho’s breath almost hitches in his throat when he realizes they’re clothed in the same blue and white uniform as yours. Both equally emitting the same hostility and mettle—as expected from the astute royal guards. 

“Hyun-”

You stagger backward when Minho clasps a firm hand over your mouth, shaking his head while you’re giving him a ‘what are you doing?’ look. The moment you manage to peel yourself away from his grip, your fellow colleagues are nowhere to be seen. They must be looking for you since you left the castle this morning without a proper announcement. “What was that about?! They’re my friends, now if you’d excuse me-”

“They aren’t the most trust-worthy people right now,” he lets out a sigh. “Think about it. They’re parts of the few people who could possibly see Chan the day before he turned into a wolf. And I’m sure the royal mage wouldn’t have such a reason to spike the commander of the guards. I don’t see how it’d benefit her if Chan was to take a break from his position. On the other hand…”

Is he accusing one of your friends of harming your brother? And for what too? A higher rank in the team? Preposterous! “Why would I trust you then, Black Swordsman?” 

Minho cringes inwardly at the nickname because good gracious, it’s so unoriginal. He’s heard about plenty of Black Swordsmen before during his wandering all over the Continent. They’re basically cryptic-looking swordsmen dressed in black...people really need to come up with more colorful monikers.

“Because I just saved your life from those people whom you called ‘friends’,” he blinks at you bluntly and the hand resting on the hilt of your sword tenses up. 

You take in a deep breath, slowly considering his deductions. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point but you don’t understand as to why Hyunjin or Changbin would want to overtake your brother, they’ve only become a part of the royal guards four years ago. You might not grow up together but after going on plenty of adventures and living in the palace, you’re practically family.

Still, humans are made of greed after all.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you exhale. “You’re going to help me figure this out for throwing a dart at Chan’s ear. But if you even think about hurting him or make a single move that prompts me to think you’re doing something behind our back, I’m going to tear out your spine with my bare hands.”

Minho chuckles at your threatening tone, slightly scared for his life, “There’s no need to worry, miss…” You raise a brow at him when he trails off rather flusteredly. “Ma’am? No- uh, vice commander? What about lady…”

“The name’s Y/N,” you can’t help but break into a fit of giggles, amused at his sudden discomposure. Seems like this man has been chit-chatting with monsters more than having civil conversations with other human beings for his whole life. “And would you get your hands off me now? We don’t have to hide anymore.”

His chest swells a bit at that if he’s being honest.

four.

“Aren’t we supposed to be at the castle?” Minho looks at the log house before his eyes questioningly. Not that he’s complaining, he doesn’t think it’s the best idea for him to show up in front of royalties either. 

You pull off your hood and say, “No, the royal mage doesn’t live there.” After a few knocks with your knuckles on the wooden door, hurried footsteps are audible from inside the house—whoever’s in there must be dying to see you, Minho thinks. 

“Yeji, how are y—“ The door flies open and a figure thrashes against you faster than a lightning bolt, their arms wrapped around your torso, rubbing your back tenderly. You’re slightly taken aback but smile nonetheless knowing that your friend was worried sick like she’s always been. “Hello to you too, stupid.”

This prompts Minho to avert his gaze away awkwardly, the grip on Noir’s reign tightening evidently and your horse lets out a small neigh, nudging her nose against his side like she’s attempting to appease him. He murmurs a small ‘thank you’, hand reaching upward to brush through her shiny black coat. Shaking his head, he snickers at himself for talking to a horse. 

Yeji mumbles against your neck in relief, like someone’s just lifted a weight off her shoulders, “Good gracious, Y/N! Are you okay? You just left without saying anything. Changbin and Hyunjin said they couldn’t find you in the woods and Chan’s gone missing for a few days now and I got so worried I-”

“Slow down, Yeji,” you give her a firm squeeze in reassurance, chuckling. “It’s barely been a day. I did manage to find Chan, surprisingly, thanks to Minho, well, partly.”

“Who’s Minho?” she pulls away to get a good look at the man standing next to your horse, eyes widening in surprise. Dressed in black, one-handed sword, no shield, and armor. “Is that the Black Swordsman? Like the Lee Minho? He’s the real thing?”

You grit through a stiff smile, “As real as it can get.”

“Huh, and I thought he’d be some old, balding man in his forties,” Yeji comments while eyeing the swordsman up and down, making him somewhat uncomfortable. “He knows how to use a sword, is young and quite the looker too. Ohh I see what’s going on here..”

You warn her with a clap on her forearm, “You’re embarrassing me in front of that jerk.”

However, she ignores you and pushes the door open, motioning for Minho to carry Chan inside. “Move quickly now, Black Swordsman, I suppose Chan’s condition must be critical, his heartbeat and the blood flow in his veins is increasing at an alarming speed.”

Minho looks around in awe when he steps into the log house—there’s not much for him to say about the house. Furniture is self-explanatory enough: a single bed, a comfortable chair made with what seems to be one of the finest materials, a wooden shelf above the fireplace with an array of potions with different shades and colors, windows completely covered with curtains. It’s not much, but it does feel homey. He would be able to find a place like this with ease if he hadn’t wasted all of his money into information dealing and weapons trading.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? The house, I mean.” 

Yeji’s question snaps him out of it. And he looks over at the table where Chan’s lying, immobile and his bronzed eyes droopy and his breaths mingling. There’s a strange, bright light pulsing from the mage’s fingertips when she hovers her palm over Chan’s bloodied ear. Minho watches as the light flickers from a shade of white to blue, enveloping the open wound and heals it completely. He meets Yeji’s eyes before she pulls her hand back, her eyes glowing gold before turning back into a deep brown. The art of magic is truly fascinating. 

Minho manages to blurt, slightly flustered, “What?”

“You said the house’s nice, I simply agreed with that statement for it is true,” she briskly reaches for a flask, inside holds a soft green-colored liquid with golden specks floating around. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he frowns at her when she brings the rim of the flask to Chan’s mouth, pouring the odd-looking liquid down his throat. 

You speak up from behind her, arms crossed in front of your chest, “Yeji, stop reading people’s mind that’s creepy.”

“Okay I’ve got everything I need for the potion that’ll manage to turn Chan back into his human form,” Yeji tells you while rummaging through her wooden cabinets filled with bottles after bottles, grabbing some along the way as she comes back to the table. “But I’m missing some crystals. And I’m not talking about those fake ones that you see at the stores, the ones I need are way towards the north, in Drachens Hohle, on the Restless Cliffs.”

Minho hums, brows knitted together, thinking rather thoroughly about this. “Drachens Hohle is pretty far off, it might take us an entire day to get there, and then another day climbing those cliffs...we might need to pass by a store of a friend of mine to pack some stuff since I suppose you won’t be returning to the castle anytime soon. We’ll get moving as soon as possible,” he mumbles and nods to himself, satisfied with the plan. 

“Let me just make one thing clear here, Black Swordsman…”

He screws his eyes shut when air suddenly gets ripped apart, only opening them slowly after and almost flinches at the tip of a dagger pointed directly at his nose; one wrong move and his eye will be gone. Minho doesn’t know what should startle him more—the blade gleaming with a bright shade of yellow or the dark look in Yeji’s eyes when he meets them. He’s seen Chaeryeong do it many times before—incorporating magic with weapons, to better the damage output while maintaining the defensive factors. 

“If you lay just one single finger on my friend, I'm going to turn you into a mere, pathetic, little sparrow and lock you in a cage along with other pieces in my collection.”

Minho panics, feeling nauseous at the thought, “What collection?”

The mage withdraws her knife and laughs it off, “I was messing around with you, there’s no collection. Look after her for me, she can be quite clumsy sometimes.”

“The clumsy one here is you,” you mumble bitterly in the corner, extremely embarrassed for the sake of your friend. You might as well dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

Unexpectedly, the wooden door is once again pushed open, two men barging into the log house abruptly. You and Yeji remain still in your current positions while Minho touches the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it. “Don’t bother, they’re friends,” you wave at him absentmindedly before pushing yourself off the chair, walking over to the front door. 

“Y/N, where have you been?!” 

“Hello to you too, Bin.”

Changbin pushes past Hyunjin and jabs his index finger at you, eyes filled with both rage and concern. “What were you thinking? If you’re going to find Chan, we’re going with you. We’re a team and he’s our brother too! Don’t you remember? That was an irresponsible and childish action to do, you’d better have a good explanation for this. If you’re going to do something, at least act your role in the team more properly.”

Hyunjin pulls him back by the arm, shaking his head, “Changbin, stop. There’s no point in arguing. What’s most important is she’s gotten back safely.”

You eye both of your teammates back and forth, skepticism and uncertainty rising from the pit of your stomach. If what Minho said was true, then the culprit must be one of them. Or was he lying to you, trying to mess with your mind in order to achieve a personal goal of some sort? After all, you’ve only met him today yet you’ve known Changbin and Hyunjin for years now, why would you even hesitate to choose your friends over a total stranger? 

“I wasn’t alone.” Changbin pauses at your words. “He was with me, this is-”

“Lee Minho.” You gape at your friend in disbelief. 

Minho’s hand pulls away from his sword, a strange glint flashes in his eyes for a moment there. “It’s good to see you’re doing well, Changbin,” he says with difficulties, clearly not knowing how to act. 

“Why were you with her?” Hostility washes over the atmosphere when Changbin croaks out, fists clenching in anger. “Y/N, what were you doing with a scumbag like him? Haven’t you heard enough rumors about this guy? People like him only care about themselves, they’ll just end up hurting you in the end. There’s no good in letting him stick around.”

When you squint your eyes at him, Changbin takes long strides towards you, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull you away. “Yeji, please take care of Chan for the time meaning and we’ll be heading back to the castle. Y/N can’t just leave when we need her the most.“

Minho tugs you back towards him and voices firmly, “I’m sorry, but your vice commander belongs to me now. I’ll be responsible completely for her security and escort her with all my respects. You’ll simply have to make do without her for some days.”

Changbin lunges for Minho’s collar, anguish seething inside his chest. “Insolent bastard! On what basis do you think you have the right to protect her? You might not be a threat, but you’d better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you?” He shouldn’t have said that. 

Hyunjin looks rather concerned, rubbing his friend’s shoulders, “Changbin, we should go.”

“Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin,” you step in between them in disquiet, shoving Changbin away. “As vice commander of the royal guards, I will be coming with Lee Minho in the next few days on an important trip and I stand by my own decision. If my absence causes the team any trouble, I’ll be more than happy to receive the punishment from our superiors. You two are to return to the castle until further notice, continuing on with your service for the king and queen.”

“As we should,” Hyunjin smiles at you sweetly before walking over to Chan, giving the wolf a small pat on the head. In return, Chan lets out a displeased growl but it’s too small to notice. Minho watches the guard from afar, suspecting the strange glint in his eyes. He decides to say nothing about it.

“I’ve already warned you about him, don’t come crying for me when things go wrong.” With that, both of the royal guards excuse themselves out of the log house—Changbin shutting the door angrily after Hyunjin bidding you goodbye with a hug. This makes your heart heavy for not being able to trust them. You still don’t understand as to why, but you have a sudden faith in Minho, your intuitions are telling you that you should trust him. 

Softly, you ask, “You know Changbin?”

“He’s an old friend, we haven’t talked in a while,” Minho shifts uncomfortably in his chair, finding the topic rather awkward to talk about. “We didn’t get along that well back then either. Glad to see nothing has changed.”

You shouldn’t have asked him in the first place. 

five.

A wide variety of shops lined the streets of downtown Kalmburg: antique and art stalls, jewelry, and accessory shops, luxury boutiques, souvenir kiosks and stores selling leather goods, all showcasing an array of the finest wares in the area. Tourists flock to them like fireflies to a lamp, enthusiasm accentuating their features. The silvery melody of the drawl of sightseers and the strong, distinct accents of the locals drift through your ears as they amble by. 

You follow Minho to the very end of the streets with your cloak draped over Chan’s limp body. No one needs to know why there’s an unconscious wolf on the back of your horse. Alas, you both arrive in front of an old wooden door, the mahogany color fading as a result of time. He told you that he needed to pass by a friend’s place but doesn’t this place look a bit fishy-

“Five hundred units for ten bags of Philenor powder, and you’re good to go!”

A blond-haired boy peeks out from a client behind the counter. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite customer,” he voices cheerfully. 

“That’s because I’m smart enough to not buy any of your shit, Jisung,” Minho walks in with a grin, pitifully eyeing the dreadful-looking man who’s taking heavy strides out of the shop. He’ll learn someday. “Still running your greedy business as usual I see.”

The dealer named Jisung returns the sarcastic remark with a gummy smile, bumping his fist against Minho’s in a brotherly way. “Don’t speak so ill of me, will you? This greedy business is housing you,” he retorts, “I suppose you’re going to hog my place tonight as you always do, Black Swordsman?” So turns out he spends his night slumbers in this old crusty shop, no wonder people think he sleeps in the woods since they’ve never run into him outside of the town square before.  

“Actually, I won’t be in town for tonight,” Minho’s answer catches Jisung off guard. “I’m heading north, to the Restless Cliffs.”

“Another life-risking business trip huh. You’re going to need warm clothes, some supplement, and probably some medicine too,” Jisung hums to himself. “Hey, Felix! Get your butt over here and sharpen a sword!”

You detach your rapier from your belt and take a few steps forward before placing it onto the counter. “Uhh, can you perhaps do the same thing for my sword? I’m coming with him,” you try to appear as friendly, not wanting to startle him. 

But to your dismay, “Y-You’re one of the th-the royal guards!”

The younger boy looks over at you, utterly bewildered when he sees the emblem on your uniform. His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their socket any second now. As if to fuel the fire, Minho jerks his head towards the direction of Noir, speaking casually, “Also, ask Chaeryeong to take care of the wolf and the horse for me. Tell her to be gentle too, the wolf is hurt and confused. Don’t let him drink potions that aren’t tested beforehand.”

“You brought injured animals to my shop?!”

“One more thing, I need to see Jeong-”

Jisung has to manually shut him up by swinging an arm over his neck, forcing his friend to tumble over the wooden counter, their cheeks pressed against each other. He’s practically spitting into Minho’s face at this point. “What in the world is an outcast, stubborn-headed of a loner like you doing out here with a royal guard?! Didn’t you say that having other people coming along would only get in the way? I thought you worked alone! What’s the deal man?”

“Ahaha, it’s a long story. You see-”

“Excuse my discourtesy for I haven’t introduced myself properly yet,” Jisung stops and averts his gaze over to you, soon letting go of Minho when you flash him a crooked smile. “My name is Y/N, second in command of the royal guards and I’ll be stuck with this dimwit for a while, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jisung reciprocates your bow, the look in his eyes softening a bit, “And I’m Han Jisung, freelance dealer, single, I’m looking for a—“ Minho finds it irksome how his friend is already out and about, starting a proper conversation without almost getting killed by you so his fist moves on its own, jabbing against the blond’s stomach, forcing air out of his mouth with a low grunt. 

“Don’t mind him,” he turns sideways to reassure you, holding back the twitching muscles on his face. “He’s a decent person, despite how creepy he can be sometimes.” Jisung then elbows him harshly as a payback, making a scene when they start wrestling with each other like a bunch of toddlers. This makes you snort involuntarily, the Black Swordsman isn’t as fully-fledged as what’s been told around the public.

“Kids, that’s enough,” you tell them after making a grab for one of your pouches on Noir’s back. “Minho, why don’t you go meet up with the blacksmith? And Jisung, do you perhaps have a kitchen that I can borrow?”

While Minho’s mumbling something under his breath, hugging both of his and your sword to his chest to make his way behind the counter, Jisung nods at you, lifting a curtain next to a shelf full of weapons, gems, crystals, and potions that leads you down a dark, narrow hallway. “It’s not much,” he says and lights a candle so none of you would trip over each other. “But I hope it helps.”

“Don’t even, doing all of this for a stranger like me is incredibly generous of you,” you say humbly, not wanting to take anything for granted. “I’ll definitely return the favor when I come back.”

Jisung stops walking all of a sudden, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Is that so? Then, uhh…” he scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly. “How do I say this..? I know Minho can be irrational sometimes, loves pretending like he doesn’t care, and always runs into fire. So please..” His throat starts growing dry as he lowers his head a bit, attempting to bow at you.

“Take care of him for me, will you?”

You smile at the blond-haired boy, warmth flaring through your rib cage like butterflies, “I assure you he’s in good hands.”

six.

That night, you and Minho spend the whole night, the next morning, and the afternoon walking barefooted from Kalmburg to a small village at the base of the Restless Cliffs called Drachens Hohle. And it’s anything but Kalmburg. Rustic cabins dot the grassy hills as trees stand up like spikes, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers stream through deep valleys. The town is as complex as the heart, the streets are the veins, paved with red stones and the people are the heart. They look like they don’t own much, but are willing to share everything and anything. It’s the smiles on their faces, the way they greet each other, the sound of weapons and breastplates being pounded into shape that shows you just how alive this small community can be.

The motel Minho chooses looks like one of those places where men with beer guts would be snooping around with their neighbor’s wife, paying by the hour; a place where random hookers and drug-dealers would thrive. There are external wooden stairs that lead to a second floor, the second row of doors, that looks like the building inspector was either bribed to pass it or drunk on the job. You insist on finding a better place than this rat-hole but Minho said you don’t have to waste a couple of extra pennies just so the beds can be softer.

After dinner, you both receive your own keys before going upstairs to your respective rooms. A dingy place like this isn’t able to provide much when it comes to furniture anyway so there’s only a plain bed with pillows and a blanket, a nightstand with a pitch of water, and a small candle beside it. You sigh while casting your eyes around the room one last time. It’s just for one night.

“Y/N,” Minho gives your door a few knocks. “Are you asleep yet? I have something to tell you.”

You’re still halfway done with unpacking your stuff so you try to yell back without turning on your heels, “Not yet, just come in. I didn’t lock the door.”

He hums as a response before pushing against the wooden surface, closing it with a small ‘click’ after. “I just ran into the mayor downstairs,” Minho starts speaking and that’s when you finish putting your sword away, turning to look at him. And your cheeks inevitably grow hot since the first thing you have to lay your poor eyes on is his collarbones. This bastard really has the audacity to keep his buttons anywhere but a degree of appropriation. 

“Hey, focus,” he snaps his fingers as an attempt to knock you out of your trance, not noticing how he’s obviously the distraction. “It took an hour for him after rambling about his childhood and his love for the village to finally spill something about the kind of crystal that we need. At least pretend like you’re paying attention, will you?”

“I was paying attention,” you mumble loud enough for yourself to hear it. What a white lie. 

Minho quirks a brow and leans himself against the wall, looking amused, “Hmm, sure you did. Now, where were we? Ah! The mayor said those things aren't very hard to find, the only problem is that the field where they grow is right in front of a dragon’s den. No one has ever made it back in one piece. Chances are there might be other random monsters on the way…” 

Suddenly he stops talking, confusing you. “What’s wrong-“

The stiff look on his face seals your lips almost immediately. Faster than a lightning bolt, Minho turns the doorknob and rushes outside. “Who’s there?!” he snaps at the hooded figure running towards the end of the dark hallway, reaching for the sword on his back only to realize it’s not there. “Shit, this isn’t good.”

“Someone was eavesdropping. We’ve got ourselves a spy.” You close the door again after Minho walks inside, facepalming himself onto your bed dreadfully. 

He supports himself upward on his forearms and runs a hand through his hair, “Look, I’m not saying this because I’m doubting your abilities, I just want to guarantee your safety as much as I can. Their motives and patterns are getting pretty much unpredictable.” When he looks straight into your eyes with his warm, brown ones, your heart dips ever so gently. “Would you mind if I were to spend the night in your room?”

Your lips grow agape, your jaw almost drops to the floor. No one has ever asked to spend the night in the same room as you, not even Ryujin—your closest friend out of all the royal guards. Heck, you’ve barely known this man for a good three days yet why is it that your heart didn’t even hesitate? Are you scared? Most definitely not. Then what is it? What’s this weird, fuzzy feeling that’s been stirring inside your stomach for who knows how long?

“.....fine, but don’t try anything.”

Your heart is being weak again.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You place your hands on either side of your hip when Minho comes back from his room with his pillows and blanket scattered all over the floor, organizing them neatly with his sword leaning against your nightstand. He flickers his eyes upward to look at your judgmental ones, slightly shaking from the cold and nervousness. “I’m getting comfortable?” he tells you, blinking innocently. 

Shaking your head at Minho, you snatch the pillow from his hands and situate it on your bed, right beside your own. “Hurry up now before I change my mind,” you decide after some time of consideration. The floor doesn’t look necessarily clean, and it’s not like Jisung would pack any extra clothes for him to change into. You’re just being nice like any normal, civil human being would. You’re sharing a bed with a stranger, nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho scratches his head with a sheepish smile. “The floor is fine for me.” Although the cheap material of the mattress does look more convincing than the hard, cement surface. 

You squint your eyes at him skeptically, “Are you sure?” He then puts his hands up in defeat as though you’re pointing a knife at his throat and motions for you to scoot over with a wave of his hand. You both shuffle around after he slips into the blanket with you, shifting until you’re facing the wall while Minho’s staring awkwardly at the front door. Well, this is kinda nice, he thinks to himself when your back brushes over his every now and then. 

“Uhh, sleep tight, I guess?” Minho says before leaning over the nightstand to blow out the candle. 

“Goodnight to you too,” you spew out your last words of the day, deciding to keep your lips close before you embarrass yourself any further. Okay...maybe one last thing before you completely pass out. “Uhm, Minho?”

He replies softly, “Yeah?” Seems like he can’t fall asleep either. 

Minho tosses himself over the moment you move your body and this causes your faces to be inches apart, his warm breath fanning your cheeks. Although you can’t see him clearly due to the limited source of light, those round eyes are definitely piercing right through you, leaving your heart pounding faster than usual. 

“Can you tell me…” you nibble on your bottom lip hesitantly. “What happened between you and Changbin? You guys weren’t being very civil for old friends.”

When he shifts slightly again to face the ceiling, his arm brushes against yours but he does nothing about it. He likes the lingering warmth from the tips of your fingers. 

You watch in awe as Minho stares up at nothing, broken bits of sadness floating softly inside his irises like an unwanted scar from his past; it’s tragically beautiful. “It was years ago when this whole monster hunting thing started,” he starts calmly, finding it hard to not look at you. “I wasn’t alone, Changbin was there with me too.”

Then, he continues, not knowing that you’re widening your eyes at him, “We were in an assault team, traveling all over the Continent and making a living out of slaying those creatures. We didn’t have much back then, but we had each other. Unfortunately, everyone has their own secrets despite our promise of not hiding anything from each other. Changbin was planning on leaving the group to go on a different path, and I...I would secretly sneak out alone every night, throwing myself into danger, thinking that I wasn’t good enough…Truth is, I was just being selfish.” His voice trails off, trembling as if each word pains him, like a thousand arrow wounds straight into his heart.

Bitter. Unforgiving. Pain. 

“I knew that I was lying to them, that I should just leave without saying anything,” Minho swallows hard like someone’s stepping on him, forcing air out of his lungs mercilessly. 

“But I never belonged anywhere, they were all that I had—my only family. I longed for that warmth, that feeling of being at ease so I just, I couldn’t leave. One day, we were hired to clear out a dungeon through an anonymous letter. It raised some skepticisms in my head since I’ve gone there before, there was nothing, no monsters, no nothing. Even so, I was held back by my own cowardice, I was afraid they might question me. I didn’t stop them when they accepted the job, it was good money.”

Your voice fails you when you open your mouth to say something, so you wordlessly slips your hand into his, hoping that you’ll be able to convey some of your heat to his cold fingers. As if feeling encouraged by your action, he doesn’t push you away and regains his composure. 

“Turns out, my intuitions were right, we got scammed,” Minho says. “A group full of criminals attacked, wanting to keep all of our money for their own. We cooperated and gave them everything, yet that wasn’t enough. They needed to seal our lips for good….Only Changbin and I made it out alive, three mobsters from the gang died under my blade that day. I confessed to Changbin later on, he didn’t forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself either, the only family I’d ever have was gone, my arrogance and pride killed them.”

Silently, you pull him towards you, caressing the back of his head like he’s gonna fall apart the moment you let him go. Minho’s breath hitches in his throat as he sees you wear a smile on your face, your starry eyes twinkling when moonlight slips through the crack of the wood-lined window, pieces of glass chipping off on the edges. You’re breathtaking, unearthly. 

“I’m not going to die, I know that you’ll protect me just fine.” There’s a wide-eyed expression on his face, his lips falling open but his words die in his throat. A tear unknowingly rolls down on his cheek, consequently blurring his vision with waves of sadness that only the broken would encounter. You let him nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, his fists grabbing at your shirt until his knuckles turn white. 

Minho cries into your chest unceasingly, “I don’t have any real strength. Without my sword, without the anonymity that has been casting terror and curiosity on people, I’m just Lee Minho, the coward who only ever knows how to run away and hide behind the shadow of the Black Swordsman. Changbin was right, I don’t have any right to even think about protecting you.”

“My father used to tell me,” you stroke his hair gently as choked sobs punch through him, pulling him back from the opening arms of his grief. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things.” 

He stops for a moment, nostalgia hurling him back to the memories of two decades ago when he was still just a boy, training hard with his wooden sword while someone watched him from afar, a pleased look lingering on their lips. Tears pool in his eyes again when that person’s face flashes inside his mind but the hollow space inside his heart isn’t the same, there’s a ray of joy that’s managed to make its way through a crack of his walls. 

“And I don’t care if you’re the Black Swordsman or not, I only know the cryptic-looking guy who crossed swords with me and wasn’t willing to back down that day. I knew, I just knew that even without a sword, you could have beaten me. Because fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

His tears can’t extinguish what has happened, yet only carry him forward until a time comes when that searing pain is distant enough to forget rather than remembering. And maybe one day, it might erase itself from his conscience for good. So perhaps it’s not much of an oddity to thank the salty liquid streaming down on his cheekbones. They’re a living proof for his morality, a barrier to save him from becoming a monster—indifferent to suffering and sorrow. 

Minho sees the fatherly smile on his mentor’s face, just like the old days. And then he sees you through his blurred vision, momentarily breathless at how close you are. 

“After all, I have a promise to keep,” you tell him but it comes out more like a reminder for yourself. “I won’t let you die even when I’m no longer capable of picking up my sword and I mean it. As vice commander of the royal guards, you have my words, Lee Minho.”

An ignited desire wells up at the bottom of his heart, and it baffles him. Lee Minho, a coward who’s willing to turn his back on everyone just so he alone can exist. A bastard who betrayed his only friends, who didn’t even try to plead for forgiveness, who coldly walked away from those painful memories. Such a self-absorbed being like him doesn’t deserve a simple ally, let alone something much more intimate than that.

Then he starts to remember why he’s here, with you. Your smile. Your voice. Memories are flooding back into his head about this girl who made her way into his life abruptly yet so easily. And before he knows it, she’s all that’s on his mind. 

So instead of giving in to his nightmares like he would every other night, Minho stops reminiscing his bloodied past, surrendering under the sense of familiarity radiating off your touch.

seven.

You both stand in awe as the great mountains loom before your eyes, cold grey crevices holding the blood of the fallen. While the lower passes wear a cloak of greenery, the peaks are crowned with a headdress of ice. As though the earth has a pulse, it rises through the mountains, creating their bold silhouette. From carved rocky outcrops, waterfalls drifting like skeins of white lawn, and in the fields, you can see the amber glint of the rivers and the occasional mirror-like flash of the lake. 

The mountains soar upward like they wish to plant a soft kiss on heaven, wanting to have a taste of the horizon all around. The path ahead winds as effortlessly as a blanket laid on a bed, yet each step feels heavier than the previous one, draining your energy. It only gets steeper and narrower as you make your way closer to the top, but giving up is not an option. You’re willing to go to the other side of the world barefooted, searching for every corner, every edge of this planet if it means bringing your brother back. 

A gust of wind howls in the distance, piling up snow in drifts, blinding your eyesight with ice-white dust. You try walking, bending over against the cold, protecting your eyes with your clothed forearms. Everything looms into your vision before vanishing completely, swallowed in white. “Minho?” you call out to him after a few minutes of not looking forward, waving one of your hands around until it can feel something. 

Another hand reaches for yours, and you snap out of your daze when the coldness on the tips of his fingers is clasped against your palm. “You’re as slow as a baby turtle,” he comments lamely while staring ahead, not letting you see the coral shade scattered across his cheeks. “Let’s just hurry up and get back, I’m hungry.” 

Breath pale against the numbing air, you blink thoughtfully while gazing down at the sight of his fingers being intertwined with yours as the frost patiently kisses your face. He’s still wearing the same old pair of fingerless gloves, no wonder his hands are freezing. But you suppose it’s because he doesn’t want the grip on his sword to slip. 

“Oh, I actually have something for us to eat,” you retract your hand to fish it inside your bag, already missing his warmth. “I guess we should have lunch, either way, we’ve been walking before the sun even rose.”

Minho makes a noise of confusion before bringing his steps to a halt, turning his head to see you pull out something being wrapped neatly in paper, giving it a slight jerk towards his direction when he continues to stare at you blankly. Wordlessly, he takes it and sighs, eyes widening when the smell of grilled meat invaded his nostrils. Inside the wrapper is a sandwich made from thinly sliced bread, generously stuffed with meat and vegetables. The peppery aroma inevitably makes his stomach rumble and without another word, Minho chomps on his lunch portion like a hungry child; the sandwich is long gone before he realizes it. 

“It’s...good,” he licks his lips to clean up the remaining sauce in the corners of his mouth. It doesn’t look any different from the ones he’s seen inside restaurants but the taste is what reminds him of something he ate as a kid, he almost teared up while inhaling it. “Where did you buy this? I’ll make sure to pass by the place when we get back.”

“I didn’t buy it,” you stride ahead of him to hide the giddiness in your stomach. “I made it yesterday at Jisung’s place. That’s why the bread got a little soggy if you couldn’t tell already.”

Minho fixes his collar and his hearty laughs echoes through your eardrums, stirring up feelings inside your stomach unabating. “You would make a fortune out of these,” he tells you while trying to catch up, following your steps in a hassle. “But now that I‘m thinking about it again, you shouldn’t do that, I’d hate to see people getting to enjoy the same food as me with some cheap units.”

You blush (out of anger) at his statement and attempt to cover it up by stepping onto his toes. This causes him to yelp while stumbling backward, almost falling onto his bottom. “Why did you feel the need to do that?!”

“I can just make you more if you like it that much, you jerk,” you murmur mostly to yourself but he hears it nonetheless. 

A smile makes its way to his lips, and a fuzzy feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s not complaining, really. It’d be nice if he could have the same delicious meals when he’d retired, dozing off while watching the sunset with his significant other and his own kids in his arms. It’d be nice if he could have a place to come back to when he needs a break, a shoulder to lean on and someone to tuck him into bed. It’d be nice if… He looks at you again after those shameless thoughts and immediately, embarrassment dusts his cheeks pink. His face feels hot despite the puffs of cold air escaping his lips. 

“Hey,” Minho pulls you to a stop by the hand, suddenly giving it a squeeze. “I just wanted to say thank you…” A glint of anticipation gleams in your gaze when you both lock eyes, prompting him to look away. “Thank you, for...the meal, it was nice. I might as well bother you a little longer to eat more good food.” Lee Minho you coward. 

“Do you only think about your stomach?“ you almost gawk at him, raising your hand to give him a slap in the face but Minho grabs your hand before you can do so. The next thing you know, his other hand is on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in a playful manner. 

He tells you and trudges on, grinning to himself, “Let’s get moving, we’re wasting time.”

“....Minho?”

“Hmm?” he turns around with a lovesick smile on his face but that’s not what you’re paying attention to.

“You might want to look out for that…”

“For what-“ 

Minho swallows heavily when he sees an enormous figure overhanging his shadow on the white snow. Slowly, his gaze follows the sound of faint yet sturdy footsteps and he holds his breath, eyes twice as white as before. 

“Just to be clear…” he asks breathlessly. “Dragons are nocturnal, right?”

“Correct,” you subconsciously take a step back. “And we might have woken it up.”

Minho takes notice in the thick stripe of black streaking down on one of its claws, and his face morphs into a frown when his surroundings reek off the smell of fresh blood. “No, someone else did.”

The dragon’s scales gleam dashingly in the sunlight, they are its pride and delight, violet streaks blending into a deep blue at the end. Its teeth so cold and sharp like icicles, they can easily rip any armors into mere ribbons of skin and bones. In its chest holds a hearth of ever flickering flame although the remorseless heart remains rime. Eyes with a shade of crimson as deep as the liquid that’s coursing through your veins, nourishing you; those eyes are seemingly endless pools of wisdom and intelligence.

But once those red pupils dilate and focus on the two mundane mortals before themselves, a glint of gold is suddenly evident, almost alarmed. The dragon takes off into the air with its wings stretched leathery like a bat, sending a small snowstorm flying towards the both of you. Minho squints his eyes hard while you’re shielding your vision with your forearms, coats fluttering as wind whistles into your ears.

Minho calmly takes a step forward, flashing you a smile sideways. What is he doing? 

Then, he spares you one last glance before drawing his sword. As though triggered by the sound of metal scraping against the leather sheath, the dragon flaps its majestic wings and inhales, heaps of glowing embers come swirling in midair, twirling towards Minho with a fiery dance. He’s just simply there, feet planted firmly on the ground as though challenging the creature’s deadly breath. 

“Minho, what are you doing?!” you yell at him, trying to keep your balance as the ground begins to tremble. “Get out of there!!”

Pretending not to listen to your warnings, Minho gets into his stance, blade angling low with his knees. What happens next downright baffles you. The blade of his sword glimmers with a shade of purple, his feet taking off towards the plume of fire that soon engulfs his figure completely in your vision. 

You squeeze your eyes shut not just because of the heat but also because you can’t bring yourself to see it. Once the air around you cools off, your eyes flutter open again to see Minho angling his head over his shoulder, throwing you a wink in the process. Did he just counter a dragon’s breath with his sword?

“Chaeryeong taught me that. Neat trick, isn’t it?” he says with a grin while you’re blinking at him in utter shock; he looks almost proud of successfully deflecting that breath attack. “I use magic more often than you’d think. Nothing major, only the basic things. Enough to keep me alive.”

“I still think we need to run first.”

Minho looks at you dejectedly, “Don’t you have a better plan?”

With a howl as loud as any sky-born thunder, the dragon flaps its wings more vigorously this time, flinging the layer of snow under your feet into a blizzard—a swirling storm of screaming silver, a primal force than conquers until its core explodes. Everything around you is almost white-out as you bat your hands around helplessly in the middle of this snowstorm. After a while, you can no longer feel your legs, it’s like the storm just sweeps you off your feet. You’re not sure if it’s because of the cold or-

What the…?

You widen your eyes in a panic; you’re falling. Your perception of time distorts, your surroundings slow down until there’s nothing, only you, the sky above, and a hole that’s only a few hundred feet away from where you were standing previously. Your hand reaches out to the canvas above, grasping the endless crevasse of blue. 

Everything’s a blur, a blur that swirls out of existence. Suspended in the air for a few seconds, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting your tense muscles relax. You won’t die from the fall since there’s a likelihood that snow’s already covered the pit. But you can’t just let yourself fall freely, that would cause minor, unnecessary injuries. So you reach for your sword, planning to jab it against the rocky surface as an attempt to go against gravity. 

Once the metal comes in contact with the side of the pit, tiny flares of fire flutter in the air as if the sword is being sharpened by a blacksmith, an ear-piercing sound hisses against your eardrums. The stab is strong enough to slow gravity down from pulling you downward any faster but it’s not enough to make you stop completely. 

Chan, you think while screwing your eyes shut, every cell inside your body is shaking, every muscle is aching. You can’t give up now, not when you’re still in one piece, and Chan’s hanging on the edge of not getting his old life back. You can’t give up not knowing who’s the culprit, not just yet. 

And you’d rather be cursed than making out of this place alive and leaving Minho behind. Your conscience won’t ever forgive you. 

When that thought crosses your mind, you grit your teeth and suddenly the sword stops sliding down, leaving you dangling midair on one arm. The rapier is too slender, it won’t hold on for long, and it’s not like you can climb all the way up to the top. 

A mighty, fearsome roar blares through your brain like wildfire so you flutter your eyes upward to see the dragon with its wings folded on both sides, diving at an immaculate speed into the hole, in your direction. 

There’s my ride. 

eight.

Once the blizzard settles down, the setting sun comes with a sky of fire, the orange of every wintry hearth. The color stretches far and wide along the horizon like a reflection of the dawn that comes after the velvety night. 

That’s when Minho sees them. 

The crystals have grown as something alive may do, thriving over the ages, through many generations. As such they become a rainbow sea made of perfect rocks, the shoreline ever-present and still with colors that shine in the brilliant light of a richness that only nature can bring. Minho might feel bad when he snaps off a piece, it’s like cutting a single, healthy rose in the middle of the thorny garden. But if it’s for Chan, he’s certain that you’d do anything at any cost. 

Minho sheaths his sword and sighs, turning around, “Y/N are you okay?” All that he’s met with is a muffled silence, the cold wind whistling into his ears, the hollow space before his eyes white-out and empty.

“Y/N?” Nothing. 

“Y/N!!” No one answers. “Y/N!!!”

No, he lets out a choked whimper. No, no, no.

His legs tremble inside his boots, his lips quivering, his fists clenched, his fingers turning cold. And the thing that terrifies him most? His heart feels like someone is grasping on it so tightly as though they’re going to crush it with their bare hands. 

A seed of fear suddenly grows inside his rib cage, thriving at an abrupt pace, branching out, gripping onto every cell, every muscle inside his body. He can’t breathe. This can’t be it, he tells himself, tumbling backward a bit. He promised not to let this happen. He swore. Yet his biggest nightmare is only one step away from becoming a reality. 

Minho wants to cry your name aloud over and over again until his vocal cords are torn apart, he wants to be vulnerable for once and let himself fall. How is he going to face Chan? And Changbin? And his own conscience? He might as well run his own sword through his heart because what would be the point in living if you’re no longer here?

All of this was a grave mistake. If only he didn’t throw the dart. If only you didn’t come with him. None of this would have happened. None of this would have happened if he didn’t accept that damned offer. He could have easily flipped you off the second that duel was finished and gone on this trip by himself. And face the scythe of Death alone, by himself, like he always does. He should have died alone, he deserves to die alone. 

But this time, he didn’t make the right decision and the consequences are horrendous. He gave in because of your stubbornness, your determination, your bossy nature. He let you in and his walls came down tumbling one by one, his stern and trained facade shredded into pieces. His head is a mess whenever he sees your smile, his heart can permit you to tread on his boring life. And because of those merely unguarded moments, he’s killed another person that he truly cares about other than himself.

Wait, something clicks inside his head. He almost forgets the most important thing of all. The culprit. 

Minho regains his composure and snaps his head back towards the crystals. The sun might be going down but its limited source of light is more than adequate to cast a shadow onto the snowy white surface. The shadow of a person, a person that’s not you. The shadow that sets a silent inferno inside his chest, the flame spreading by the ticking second. 

“I have been waiting for you,” he turns on his heels, reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Hwang Hyunjin.”

The shadow visibly flinches before stepping out, a hand outstretching from the black cloak to pull down the hood. When Hyunjin’s face comes into view, Minho’s muscles tense up, anguish making his head a little dizzy. But he maintains his cold front, not letting his opponent see how much this is affecting him. 

“I’ve got a feeling that you’d already figured it out the moment I visited the cabin,” Hyunjin says slyly, his facial expression rather relaxed. “And I was so close to silencing you little errand boy for good too, but I’ll admit, the little brat is well trained, he ran off before I could catch him. So tell me, Black Swordsman, where did I slip?”

“Your eyes,” Minho grits. “They weren’t staring at Chan with what’s supposed to be concern or relief. You were looking at him like a predator watching its prey from afar. If I weren’t keeping an eye on you, who knows what you would have done to him. He didn’t sound pleased when you touched him either.”

Hyunjin drops his cloak to the ground, laughing under his breath, “You are sharper than I’d expected.” He takes a few steps closer forward, craning his neck tiredly before drawing his sword, causing Minho to do the same. “Now, now, vice commander, an innocent man is about to be killed because of you.”

Minho can only snicker at the statement, “I’m not planning on going down easily.”

“So am I,” Hyunjin gets ready in his stance, glaring at his opponent. “I wasn’t really planning on dealing with you. I would rather end her and let you take the blame. Actually, that sounds like a better plan! Don’t you agree? No one would put their trust in you—a low, damned being who lives off the upper classes’ bloodied pennies.”

With his blood boiling hot, Minho inhales and exhales deeply to keep his voice calm. “End her?” he repeats after the guard. End her. Hyunjin hasn’t made a single move yet he feels like someone just stabbed him in the gut. How could he?! You trusted Hyunjin, you went through so much with him, you trained him. And now he’s just going to turn around and bite the hand that fed him? Traitor. “Over my dead body.” 

Hyunjin lunges forward, his feet sprinting quickly and he brings his blade up from a lower angle while Minho attempts to clash him from the head down. Both of their swords get knocked away on different sides from the harsh contact. Before Hyunjin can raise his weapon again, Minho sword slices at him sideways but he luckily deflects it in time—the reflexes and muscle memories from his training are kicking in. 

“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you her friend?”

Minho’s sword aims for his head once again; however, Hyunjin steps to the side and makes a grab for his hand, holding his weapon down. This makes Minho lose his balance for a few seconds while Hyunjin tries to cleave his neck. He stumbles on his heels at the last second, only getting away with a small cut on his cheekbone. The pain isn’t even there, he’s been beaten up ten times worse before, this is nothing. He’s practically numb by now. 

“Friend?” Hyunjin drags his sword against the ground before bringing it up to stop a slash at his chest, throwing snow into Minho’s eyes. He groans agonizingly when the white matters’ coldness burns his skin, blurring his vision. “She and Chan only care about themselves! They are the ones who get all the praises and recognition after a mission. Little rumps like me and Changbin?”

He angrily tightens the grip on his weapon, dragging a long slice downward, “We didn’t have any title, we’re merely just two faces amongst a hundred of the other guards. We get treated like we don’t even exist!”

“Did Y/N ever treat you that way? And Chan too?” Minho heaves after dodging the blow by rolling on the ground. He’s circling around the guard, trying to keep his mind clear. “From what I’ve seen, she seems to care about you and Changbin as much as she does about her brother. 

Hyunjin swings his sword at him, and Minho receives the hit with the edge of his blade. The sound of metal scraping against each other is pricking at his eardrums but he can care less, he won’t be dying today. “So you can break my soul,” Minho pants before both of them stagger backward, switching their initial position. “Take everything away from me.”

“Beat me up.” Another blocked blow. 

“Tear me into pieces.” Anger almost tears through his mind again. Anger towards Hyunjin for betraying Chan, you, and his entire team. Anger for falling into his trap. Anger for not being able to keep you safe. He wishes he could just unleash all of his hatred and rage on the guard. But what can he do? He’s one to blame too, after all. 

“Or kill me, even.”

Hyunjin catches up to Minho when he starts sprinting away to regain his vision, the two of them running side by side, in between the lined up crystals. Thrusting his sword at Minho in various directions, Hyunjin’s stabs are getting messy because of the limited amount of space. 

“But I will tell you something, you’d better listen to me and listen to me for good.” Minho’s sword strikes at him but he blocks it in time, their faces inches apart and their weapons threatening to snap each other into half. 

“Touch Y/N.” A low grunt escapes Hyunjin’s lips when Minho jabs his fist against his stomach, forcing air out from his lungs. “And I am going to give you a taste of hell. I have been there before, and you know what? You would be begging me for a painless death by then.”

When the guard falls onto his knees, his weapon dropping by his side with a loud clangor, Minho directs the tip of his sword on top of Hyunjin’s head. “Think about it again, do you think that all of this is really worth it?”

A sinister laugh echoed through his ears and Minho’s eyes grow alarmed when the blood trickled down on his cheek starts to harden a little. No, something’s wrong. “You spoke too soon,” Hyunjin tells him with a devilish tone, the corners of his lips being tugged up into a smirk. 

What is this? On the tip of his fingers reveals a dark shade of blue, it almost reminds him of the royal guards’ uniform. Suddenly his body collapses, he can’t feel his muscles, he can do nothing. His sword is so far away from his grip, he can’t even move his fingers. Paralytic poison. “You bastard!”

Hyunjin pushes himself off the ground, holding his sword by the hilt when the tip is faced downward. “I suppose this is the end. Our encounter is rather short but it was a pleasure to cross swords with the infamous Black Swordsman,” he raises it, chuckling. “Goodbye, Lee Minho.”

Minho locks his jaw, his muscles tense but he can’t move, his eyes are shut while he braces himself for the contact. But it never comes. A growl as loud and frightening as a clap of thunder rumbles through the sky and that’s when Minho opens his eyes to see the shadow of a dragon flying not too high above. Next thing he knows, a figure jumps off, falling rapidly like a lightning bolt. 

Your foot slams onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, causing him to fall back while you land on the ground safely. Before he can register the situation, your rapier is drawn to yank his long sword away. “Hyunjin?” you grit with tears brimming in your eyes. “Why?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond, instead, he takes a few strides towards you wordlessly. You don’t raise your weapon nor retreat it, simply keeping it limp by your side. But he lifts the blade of your sword with his hands and swiftly runs it through his stomach, blood splattering everywhere. His arms are weak, yet he still tries to put one of them around your back, pulling you closer and leaning his head on your shoulder. “Congratulations, vice commander,” he taunts into your ear. 

“You’re a murderer.”

nine.

Chan finds himself waking up on a plain bed, a white blanket draped over him, and a cold towel on his head. All the mayhem from the past week comes crashing down on him like a tsunami, banging against his temple. He tries to push himself up but his limbs are too wobbly—it feels foreign, it’s like he’s inside someone else’s body and not his own. With every move, his head pulses in agony, and his muscles ache.

The pain stops when he sees you sleeping soundly against his bed, your head rested on your forearms. Another figure is present too, on the couch staring blankly at the flickering fireplace. Opening his mouth to speak, Chan scrunches his nose in pain as he accidentally strains his vocal cords but no words come out, only incoherent sounds. 

“...Chan?” you rub the sleep away from your eyes, yawning tiredly. 

“Ah..ah..ah,” Chan can only lift his arms, calling out to you in desperation. His eyes grow stingy at the sound of your voice and before he knows it, tears are already rolling down in his cheeks relentlessly. 

“Chan, it’s alright,” you hush him softly, slipping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Everything’s fine now, you’re safe. You’ve done enough.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, that way he won’t be able to see your glassy eyes. This isn’t the time to cry in front of him. 

The door closes with a sharp thud.

Chan only convinces himself that he’s still alive, and back to his human form, not being buried six feet under the ground somewhere when your fingers graze the dull lines that his tears leave behind. A sense of relief washes over him the moment he sees your smile, though insomnia has been carved into your features over time. You’re safe, he closes his eyes. You’re not hurt. 

That’s all that matters. 

“Wait for me here, I’ll call Yeji in,” you give his hands one last squeeze. Chan pulls you back for a second there, a faint frown adorns his face. “Just leave the rest to me, we’re going to be alright.” 

With Chan’s weak smile as an approval, you dash outside, finding Minho standing like a soulless being at the front door of the cabin. He can’t bring himself to face you after what he did. His body is tired, his mind is a mess, and his heart is filled with sorrow. Even his sword seems too heavy for his existence, it’s weighing him down, making him not be able to move. 

“This was all my fault, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer him and instead outstretch your hand, letting your fingers tug at the sheath of his sword. “Minho, it’s no one’s fault,” you mumble with your head hung low. “I dragged you into this. If anything, I’m the one to blame.”

“No!” His sudden outburst makes you flinch; hence you pull your hand back with a wide-eyed expression on your face. “If I hadn’t thrown that dart, we wouldn’t have met. If you hadn’t followed me on the trip, nothing would have happened! None of this would have happened! You almost died back there, Y/N. Do you know how much it scared me?”

“So you’re just going to leave me like this?” you raise your voice, trying not to snap at him. “After everything, you’re still going to turn away from me? Just like how you did to everyone else?”

“I-“ 

“Lee Minho, if you claimed to care about me so much-”

“I should stay away from you, I will only cause you more trouble. Even worse, I will get you in danger. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you.” His heart clenches at his own words as his shoulders shake, arms tense on his sides. 

You reach for his hand, and huff in determination, “Stick to your words and protect me then.”

ten.

It’s been a week since the incident happened. Hyunjin has managed to live after the fight, yet he wants to keep his lips sealed for a while as to why he intended to harm the commander of his team in the first place. For now, he’s being kept in the dungeon while the king and queen permit you to do whatever. After all, he didn’t cause the kingdom any trouble. And if you were being honest, you would forgive Hyunjin without a second thought just so things can be normal again. It’s not as easy as you’d hoped. 

Minho, on the other hand, has been praised tremendously by everyone in court for what he did. His name has been cleansed and every flighty rumor or gossip about him has been cleared out. He doesn’t like this at all, journalists are starting to snoop around Jisung’s place, leaving him no choice but to stay at Yeji’s log house for some time. His reputation was what used to keep him safe, now everything’s being flipped upside down. 

He stares at his own reflection in the mirror from across the room. Minho can’t tell if it’s because he’s only worn the color black for the longest time or he’s being irrational, but he thinks the white loose shirt and matching pants that the mage brought back last night from the castle just don’t look right. Is his own moniker messing with his head? Probably. 

Glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of his sword on his bed, he exhales dejectedly. I look like a joke, Minho thinks to himself. 

“I never knew the Black Swordsman would look this dashing in white,” Chan enters his room with a dimpled smile on his face, Changbin following him suit. He’s recovering from the past week of living his life as a wolf, it’s still quite hard for Chan to walk so Yeji forced him to use a wheelchair for the time being. 

“Don’t you guys have any clothes that aren’t so flashy?” Minho cracks a crooked smile, feeling unfamiliar being dressed in such a bright color. “I look ridiculous.”

Chan chuckles wholeheartedly and shakes his head, “Actually, that’s one of our less flashy ones. Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Minho’s question isn’t necessarily directed towards Chan, but rather the person standing behind him. “If you want to curse me for the things I’ve done, then fine, I accept it. I will leave Kalmburg and move to the other side of the Continent. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Changbin steps forward, and with a deep breath, he says, “Thank you, Minho.” 

Minho can’t believe his ears, did he just—

“Thank you,” Changbin says again; this time more firmly, and the look in his eyes softening. In those brown orbs, Minho can once again see the look he used to be met with five years ago, no hatred or anger, just warmth. He missed this. A ‘thank you’ has never sounded so nerve-calming before. It’s genuine, it’s real. Heartwarming, almost. 

“When you told me that you would protect her,” Changbin continues, gaze cast downward. “I almost believed you, I knew you weren’t lying. It felt like that day after we both got out of the dungeon all over again. My anger always got the best of me and I just burst. I never gave you the chance to explain yourself, I never got to know your reasons. I am sorry because I didn’t care about you enough, as a friend.”

“I am sorry too,” Minho rises from his seat on the bed, suppressing the happiness inside his ribcage. “I’m sorry I bailed on you that day, I think about it all the time.”

He pauses for a moment and sees Changbin outstretching his hand, the familiar broad smile dancing on his lips. Minho accepts his friend’s warm handshake and reciprocates his grin. “You’d better stay alive first before apologizing.”

Minho widens his eyes, “Of course I am alive!”

“No, I mean,” Changbin waves his hand dismissively. “I was going to ask you to join us since there’s a good chance that His Majesty won’t turn you down, but then I’d figure, you’re too reckless for us to handle either way. So if you’re planning on going out here and throwing yourself at monsters, you’d better stay safe or I wouldn’t forgive you again. And Y/N would never forgive herself.”

Chan eyes the small box sitting neatly on Minho’s nightstand, and teases, “Speaking of Y/N, when will you tell her?”

Minho scratches the nape of his neck with glowing cheeks, he can physically feel the pink tint darkening by the second. “I don’t know, but soon. I still need to have his permission first,” he leans over to take the box in his palm, opening it carefully. 

The sight of the silver band resting nicely inside makes his chest swell, his beating heart doing its best to not implode from joy. It might be too early, but he’s scared that if he doesn’t do this now, fate is going to be one step ahead and take you away from him forever. 

“Minho!” Yeji calls out to him from behind the door. “Y/N’s here!”

“I wish the best of luck for you then,” Chan tosses a wink in his direction.

eleven.

“No one asked you to come, Han.” Is the first thing Minho spats out when he closes the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder. Jisung’s welcoming grin falls flat on his face at his friend’s cold remark. He really should have got used to these things by now. 

“I did,” you tell him with crossed arms, releasing your grip on Noir’s reign. “Yeji said she’s running low on some herbs so I introduced her to Jisung’s place.”

Minho rolls his eyes to the moon. “Aren’t there more trust-worthy stores for the royal mage? Why would you refer her to that dingy dumpster?” And this statement prompts Jisung to give his knee a harsh kick followed by a mere glare from the younger boy. 

“I actually like his place, it’s cute,” you scoff. He’s just acting out since Jisung always shows up unannounced. 

“Why? It’s a rip-off.”

“Minho, you were living there for free!”

“I’m going to leave you two love birds alone now,” Jisung pushes past you to shoot Minho a mischievous smirk, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything weird to her or Chan is going to cut your arms off.” Actually, you’re fully capable of cutting his arms off yourself if he dared think about doing something damned. The swordsmanship runs in the family after all. 

Your face morphs into a frown when Jisung finally enters the cabin, your head tilted to the side in confusion. “What is he talking about?” you ask but brush it off nonetheless; it’s Jisung, you can’t expect anything less from him. “Forget it, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Minho answers while petting Noir, your horse nudges her nose against his face in return—she’s always been keen on seeing him since day one. “How is your father these days? Last time I’d asked, you told me that he’d retired.”

You nod, resting your palm on the hilt of your sword, “He’s good. He said he’s already too old to train soldiers and he’d rather stay at home. Though he’s getting bored these days since there’s not much to do anymore. He’ll find a new hobby soon enough, he will need to take a break from everything eventually. Father has never let himself rest after our mother passed away, constant work distracts him.”

Minho hears you let out a small sigh and takes another step, his hands finding their way towards yours, collecting your fingers between his, giving them a firm squeeze. 

You give in after a few moments to face him completely, concern is flashing in his eyes while a small smile blooms on his lips. He looks a little tired, probably didn’t get any sleep for the past few days while you’re resolving all the problems in court. Minho never fails to stun you nonetheless, from the curve of his lips to the fullness of his eyelashes and the adoration in his warm eyes for you and only you; they make you feel at ease. 

“Like father, like daughter,” he brushes a strand of hair away from your face and jokes. “You’d better be eating well and getting enough sleep, vice commander.”

You snicker, “Speak for yourself, Black Swordsman, you look terrible.” That’s a lie, he looks absolutely wondrous it’s unfair. 

“I like this color on you,” you giggle after noticing his appearance today. They really don’t have any dark-colored pieces of clothing in the castle. “Look, we’re matching. You’re just not matching with your sword anymore.”

“Y/N.” The merry tone in his voice suddenly drops and Minho looks away, his muscles loosening. “Can I ask you something? But I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

You’re suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”

“On the day that the incident happened….,” he trails off nervously. “Why didn’t you run away? You could have just left me there and got home safely. There will always be another way to help Chan. The chances of surviving that fight were too slim, there’s no telling what would happen. Why would you—”

“Lee Minho, are you even hearing yourself right now?” you cup his cheeks so that he’ll look at you. “Are you assuming I’m some sort of lowly being who will run away while their partner is in danger? I’d rather die with someone than let that person die in front of my eyes. Especially when it’s you! I would never forgive myself if I ever did that to you. So why are you saying such things?”

Minho reaches for your hand and melts into your touch, exhaling heavily. 

“I don’t know...I’m sorry I think I’m losing my mind. After everything, I’m scared that I might lose you. All I want to do is run away with you, from all of this, from everything. We can live together in someplace far away, where no one can find us,” he clenches his eyes shut. 

“I just- I don’t want you to be in love with someone who always has hell hanging by his doorstep, who gets his hands bloodied for a living, who—“

You place your index finger on his lips and shake your head. “Do you even know who I am in love with? Hm?” you question. 

“I’m in love with the most caring, kindhearted man that the world could ever ask for. Whose heart is so warm and fragile, he’s afraid to let anyone in because of his tough past. Whose will is so unwavering he didn’t even think twice about fighting off a dragon alone. But what makes me fall so stupidly for him, is the fact that despite his wounds and scars, he’d always prioritize other people’s needs before his own. Because he’d rather believe and regret than doubt and regret.”

“Y-You’re in love with me?” he studies your delicate feature in the daylight, his heart going on a rampage. 

You chuckle to yourself, “Yes, more than I should be because you’re a pain in the-“

Minho presses his lips against yours and inhales every word, sealing the nagging in until you respond to the kiss. Your hands find their way up to his soft hair, weaving themselves into the dark locks and dropping to caress his face after. He latches his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his so he can have more control of your movements. You’re drowning in his existence as he tugs and nibs at your bottom lip, trailing small kisses down your jawline before pulling away completely. 

“I guess this means you’re in love with me too?” you ask to distract yourself from the heat that’s flaring through your nostrils, setting your heart on fire. 

Your question has him stop for less than a moment, realizing that maybe he is in love with you as much as you are with him. And maybe you want him just as much as he wants you too. 

 He nods curtly, breath shaking, “Yes, yes I am.”

For the longest time, Minho used to forbid himself to cry, smile, and laugh like any sane human being would, as he thinks expressing his emotions is being strong, is protecting himself. But in reality, he’s just running away from his own problems instead of finding ways to solve them. 

Now, he will let himself fall, he will let himself cripple, he will let his tears run freely for strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things. He will fight for what he believes in, protect what he cares about and run on his bare feet through the entire galaxy if it means he gets to see you at the end of it, if it means you can dive into his arms, safe and sound. 

Then, Minho thinks of what’s inside the little box, making the thing thundering inside his chest skip a beat. “Will you stay by my side forever?” he blinks. 

“Is that even a question?” you convey between labored pants. “Even if fate pulls you to the other side of the universe, I will find you, do you hear me? I will find you and fall in love with you all over again.”

“Very well then,” he holds you by the shoulders; the eagerness in his eyes lights up a curiosity inside you. “Y/N, let’s..” But it’s gone before you can even register. “Let’s get going, we’re going to be late.” It’s not quite the right time yet. He still needs to meet someone before tying you up with him for eternity. 

Because Minho too, will always find you and fall in love with you all over again. If fate has a problem with that, then he won’t be giving a damn. 

#stayshub #skzwritersclub #inkidz #stray kids fluff #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids fantasy au #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #lino fic #lee minho #minho fantasy au #lee know fantasy au

[heycallmeladytypewriter]

The Call of a Siren- Chapter Four

Chapter One / Two / Three

A/N: Here is the promised longer chapter! You'll notice I changed some minor things, something I will occasionally do as most writers. Once again, if anyone is interested in beta reading please DM me! Enjoy!

I don't own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi's masterpiece of a world I'd love to live in.

The next day was more of a normal school day. Well, almost.

Present Mic was going on and on about proper grammar of the sentences he would write and adjust on the board for fifteen minutes before Delia zoned out. She didn’t get much sleep as yesterday’ s fitness tests scores bothered her still. She was second to last which only reminded her of her lack of experience using her quirk. Once again, she felt frustrated being raised in an ‘anti-quirk’ home. Everyone else except Midoriya and herself had years of training and time to figure out their abilities but at the very least Midoriya had All Might. She had no one.

“Oi brat! Stop doing that!” Angry boy hissed in her ear. She jolted in her seat before realizing she was rapidly clicking her pen - a habit of hers when deep in thought. Delia lifted her pen slightly so he could see it and clicked it a few more times aggressively before putting it down on her desk.

Then he kicked her chair leg a bit when Present Mic turned around to write more sentences on the board. Bastard.  Just another happy reminder that she sat in front of Bakugo which was already proving to be the pain in the ass she figured it would be when assigned. She curled her hands around the edge of the desk to prevent from turning in her seat to kick him in the shins.

She was practically bouncing to get out of her seat for hero training just to get a break from sitting in the same room for the past few hours. That was one thing she probably wouldn't come to love- staying in the same classroom for multiple classes rather than back home she would change classrooms with each subject - something she liked due to stretching her legs, changing seats, different people, and getting away from the asshole who kicks her chair when she annoys him.

“ I AM HERE!” All Might rushed in with his booming voice, “COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A HERO!”

Everyone immediately sat up in their seats in excitement that the number one hero was...well coming through the door like a hero! The class practically jumped out of their seats they were so excited.

“I can't believe it's really All Might.”

“So he really is a teacher! This year is gonna be totally awesome!”

All Might marched right over to the podium as the class took in his choice to wear his Silver Age costume which was pretty cool. He announced that he will be teaching ‘Hero-ing 101’ and that today he was starting off with battle training.

“Fight training!” Bakugo growled out excitedly while Midoriya countered with a nervous “Real combat?”

“But one of the keys of being a hero is looking good!” He swept his giant arm towards the wall expanding with numbered briefcases. “These were designed for you specifically based on your Quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started. So everyone grab your assigned cases by your number and get to the locker rooms! Meet me at Training Ground Beta!”

The girls around her were chatting away while opening their cases but Delia sat with it in her lap for a few moments.

“Wow, you guys look great.” Delia said to the girls. Momo Yaoyorozu was dressed in a simple red leotard with a chunky yellow utility belt and short red boots. Mina Ashido gave her a twirl in her new costume of a cute camo-like body suit of teal and purple with a short cropped fuzzy jacket. It was random out of context but given what little she had seen of the bubbly girl - it weirdly worked. Kyoka Jiro rocked ripped jeans, a long coral shirt, black jacket with a popped collar, and what looked like giant chunky boots with a speaker in them. Tsuyu Asui was a ‘frog’ personified in a black and green suit with webbed feet and giant goggles on her head. Lastly, Ochaco Uraraka looked like an adorable astronaut in her pink and black suit with her cute oversized boots and wrist accents. Yaoyorozu smiled at her compliment, “Thank you. Why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Are you nervous, Bell?” Asui asked her, looking concerned.

Delia pulled on her neck, “A bit, yeah. But I’ll be fine.” Ashido let out a small squeal and nudged her, “Well then put on your costume! We wanna see you looking great with us!”  

Delia bit her lip before clicking open the clasps to reveal her new costume she spent months trying to create. Blowing air out her cheeks, she stood up and placed it on the bench to start dressing. “Here goes nothing.”

“They say that clothes make the pros young ladies and gentlemen, and behold, you are the proof!” All Might stood a few feet ahead of them as they entered Training Ground Beta. “Take this to heart. From now on you are all...heroes in training!”

Everyone was checking out one another's costumes as they walked. The guys looked great except Mineta’s looked like he was in a diaper so that was an odd choice. When she saw Midoriya run out she almost facepalmed. Way to be obvious dude. The simplistic green and red design was fine but the hood part of it resembled too much of his all time favorite person. Her eyes kept scanning until it landed on the person practically foaming at the mouth to start.

If she had to be honest with herself, she would say he had one of the best costumes but she wouldn’t tell him that. He wore a tight tank top with a large orange ‘X’ in front, a belt with what looked like grenades on the side, some hardcore knee pads, then down to some heavy duty boots. The giant grenade gauntlets hooked on each arm looked heavy so she hoped he could take them off in a tight spot. She let out a small snort... Of course the boy with anger management problems would resemble a human grenade.

Biting her lip, she looked down at herself wondering if her costume matched her the same way. She pulled her hair up in a high ponytail mostly for practical purposes. She wore a high collar but sleeveless open shirt that was hooked to her by a small silver belt under her chest. She was wearing a silver strapless swim top underneath as well as black small swim shorts that could be seen as well because her thick skirt was cut into three large panels- two on each hip covering her sides and partly her backside and then one straight down the middle with a medium silver utility belt fastening it to her person. One of her favorite pieces was her, as she liked to call them, her ‘ass kicking boots’ that went to midthigh and had thick non-slip soles and a slight wedge heel. Plus, they were pretty with their silver intricate designs.  She also had silver gauntlets on her arms. The coolest feature was her water storage system. In the event, she was without any water near her to use her quirk she had compartments built into her suit. Every silver accent and design on her clothes like her boots, shorts, belts, and gauntlets were made of some ridiculously strong but flexible material that was hollowed and filled with water that she could pull from or store for emergencies. It wasn’t a massive amount but was enough for a quick emergency whip or two. Plus, everything was in a shade of dark azure blue. She felt like a water warrior.

Momo Yaoyorozu came over to her and knocked her with her hip, smiling. “Told you. You look great and it seems some others are taking notice.” She subtly nodded off the side where Angry Boy was standing diligently. Delia frowned because she had no idea what she was talking about but before she could open her mouth to say that she heard weird breathing down behind them.

“God, I love this school.” They turned to see Mineta standing way too close and way too happy.

“Okay, that’s just wonderful. Go love the school from over there, please.” Delia pointed to the group of others gathered a couple feet away. Yaoyorozu even went as far to actually ‘shoo’ him with hand gestures like he was a bug. That had Delia cracking up which prompted Momo to start giggling with her as he trudged over to the other group when All Might cleared his throat to signify class was starting. The class promptly lined up to face the number one hero.

“Now that you're ready, it's time for combat training!”

______________________________________________________

As they got settled in the monitoring room, she introduced herself to her partner for the exercise today. She spotted him a few feet from her in a martial arts costume and noted that he was the kid with the really big tail. Delia walked right up to him and stuck her hand out, “Hi, I’m Delia Bell. Looks like you’re stuck with me today for the ‘mission.’” She used air quotes for that last word jokingly.

“Oh hey! I’m Mashirao Ojiro. Happy to be stuck with you.” He joked back. “So I think we should watch this first run and get some idea of our strategy, sound good?”

“Agreed.” With that, they turned to the screen as the first mission started. Unfortunately, her excitement abated because she had a really bad feeling considering who was involved in this group as Midoriya and Uraraka walked through the building.

After a few turned corners, it started...then never really stopped. The class was on the edge of their seats after Midoriya laid Bakugo out flat on the floor and declared his hero name, “Deku.” Despite the escalating situation, Delia smiled proudly as Midoriya basically gave Bakugo the finger as he took back the name that was used to hurt him and stood his ground. Unfortunately, this only encouraged Bakugo to continue with full force. Midoriya then used his impatience to trick him again with the capture tape they were given before the match and ducked under another explosive punch before running down the corridor.

“The little guy’s really good!” The boy in a yellow bodysuit standing beside Jiro commented.

“He’s holding his own and he hasn’t even used his quirk yet!” The boy dressed in what looked like a tape dispenser helmet (?) said impressed.

We watched as Midoriya ran from Bakugo until he was completely lost to him. Bakugo began to yell furiously, “DAMMIT! You were tricking me for years by acting weak! Bet you’ve been laughing behind my back, huh?” If this idiot only knew…

“Come out and face me you coward!” Bakugo was blowing up doors left and right but walking with such arrogance, Delia was surprised his giant sized ego could fit through the door.

Meanwhile, Uraraka finally reached Iida who again proved his intelligence by hiding everything in the room that she could possibly float and use against him. She snickered when she heard Iida’s ‘evil voice’ while calling Uraraka a ‘do-gooder,’ What a dork.

“That isn’t a bad idea really.”

“What is? Hiding everything?”

“Yeah. Something to take a mental note of and I also think maybe we should try sticking together and allowing the ‘do-gooders,’ ”Delia again snickered at his impression of villain Iida, “to come to us on our home turf.”

She nodded, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

They both turned back to the screens to see Midoriya had found Bakugo who was now smiling which probably was a bad sign. “ Since you’re such a stalker, by now you probably know how my Quirk, Explosion, works. I secrete a nitroglycerin-like sweat from my hands and make it blow up. Imagine what I could do if I had a lot of it. “ He stood back into a lunge with his arm extended to the boy across from him. Oh, no . “That's right, these gauntlets aren't just for show. I’ve been storing my sweat for one monster blast.” Okay, One: Ew. Two: Mega Oh, no.

“Young Bakugo! Don’t do it! You’ll kill him!” All Might yelled into his microphone that she assumed was connected to their ear pieces.

“ He’ll be fine as long as he dodges !” Bakugo yelled right back and pulled the pin.

Delia’s hand went out to Ojiro's arm next to her as if to brace herself from what she just witnessed. He didn’t push her off as he too stared in horror at the screen.

“Whoa, whoa! This is fucking nuts!” Kirishima called out as the whole building they were in shook from the blast.

“Come in! Come in, Midoriya!” All Might was all but pressed against the screen as the dust cleared and we saw a giant hole where the walls and windows once were in the room. The class collectively sighed in relief when we heard a weak, “Is that even allowed?”

Then this goddamn psycho came out of the smoke and laughed. Laughed!

“Go ahead. Use your stupid Quirk on me, Deku.” He crouched low and smiled that disturbing smile again. He almost looked unhinged. “Even if you use everything you’ve got, you’ll never beat me.”

“Sir, isn’t this getting outta hand? That Bakugo is getting real crazy. He’s gonna kill ‘im!” Kirishima voiced Delia’s exact thoughts. The class all nodded in agreement and looked at their teacher expecting him to follow suit and shut this down.

“Not so.” Sorry, what? “Bakugo. Use that stored-up power again and I’ll stop this fight. You’re team will lose.”

“ Huh? ”

“To employ such a strong attack indoors is inviting the destruction of the stronghold you should be protecting. That’s a poor strategy, whether you’re a hero or a villain. The penalty would be a massive loss of points.”

That resulted in an angry yell before he rushed Midoriya who was talking to his partner. It seemed he had a plan though she couldn’t even see how at this point especially how her floating herself to the weapon earlier didn’t work against Iida’s speed. Midoriya threw a punch but Bakugo, in an amazing amount of speed and skill, flipped mid-air using a small blast and counter attacked from behind to hit Midoriya right in the back with a strong explosion.

“He doesn’t come off as a guy with strategy. But he’s actually quite intelligent.”

Ashido, Kirishima, and Delia took their eyes off the battle for a moment to look at the boy half covered in ice. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“He changed his trajectory while in midair and using a blast that doubled as a smokescreen. Very clever.”

Yaoyorozu chimed in with noting his ability to understand the physics of the situation and his Quirk. Denki Kaminari, whose name she remembered only due to that Mr. Aizawa had already used it so much in a day and a half because he was a high school five year old, moaned, “Ugh, Bakugo is uber talented. I hate it.” Delia pressed her lips together because while she agreed with her classmates on Angry Boy, she was still horrified by his behavior as he continued to beat the hell out of Midoriya. This oh, so intelligent and talented boy is basically throwing a tantrum and he had the nerve to call her ‘brat.’

“This is hard to watch! All he has to do is wrap tape around him, not kill him.” Ashido cried out.

“Bakugo is certainly acting like a villain.” Tokoyami responded.

“I thought Midoriya was pretty amazing at the start of the fight, but he’s completely outmatched in terms of combat power. Not to mention, Bakugo seems like a natural at all this stuff.”

“Give him a chance.” Delia said sharply. Kaminari looked at her surprised as her tone was with more bite than she intended. “Sorry. But give him a chance.”

Delia turned back to the screen once again and saw the boys facing off again but near a different set of windows. They exchanged words then lunged at one another but this time it was different. Midoriya was finally using his Quirk and Bakugo’s hands started sparking up as well.

Delia gripped her arms harder, “All Might…”

“They’re gonna kill each other! Sir!”

The Pro hero said nothing but gripped his tiny microphone hard enough it should've been in splinters before speaking into it, “Both of you-”

“Uraraka, now!” The class looked up at the video feed of the others and the brunette grabbed hold of a pillar. All of a sudden, Midoriya punch for Bakugo went upwards creating a giant amount of force to break the ceiling above as he took on Bakugo’s explosion head on. “SMASH!”

His punch created massive amounts of debris for Uraraka to use and she used the pillar she held onto as a bat and swung the floor pieces at Iida. As he was distracted in fending off the debris, she floated herself over to the weapon thus winning the mission.

The class was entirely silent as All Might declared the hero team the winners. Was this really a win?

After a few moments, she heard Ojiro say, “Okay...we aren’t going to do that.”

_________________________________________________

“Match two! Team B will be our heroes! Team I will be the villains!”

As Ojiro stretched, Delia pulled out some water from her belt to form a whip. “Hey, I’m going to hide behind one of the pillars near the door so I can surprise them.”

He nodded, “Good idea.”

The buzzer went off.

As they braced themselves for the heroes, it turns out Shoto Todoroki had different ideas. All of a sudden, the whole room was covered in freezing ice. Her boots were stuck in ice and as she peeked around the corner of the pillar so was Ojiro's. Damn. I didn’t think he had power like this!

“This Quirk is insane.”

She may be stuck but she still had her whip which she kept moving to prevent from freezing. They both stilled when they heard footsteps.

“Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet.”

“Good thing I wore boots then!” Delia kicked herself free and lashed her whip around Todoroki’s right arm which wasn’t covered in ice. His eyes widened slightly before freezing her whip around his arm but she had another one at the ready that grabbed his arm again and tugged as if to throw him back but he had stuck himself to the floor with his left side. Before she could react, he covered her body from the chest down in ice preventing Delia from doing anything more.

“The hero team winnnnnns!” All Might announced over the loudspeaker.

“Fucking dammit!” She muttered as she tried to break free of the ice. But she didn’t need to as Todoroki suddenly emitted enough heat to defrost the whole building, Ojiro gasped, “Heat, too?”

Delia scrunched her face as everything was now wet which would’ve been great if the fight was still going. “It’s not your fault. We’re just playing on different levels.” Well, damn. Thanks so much. He said it so mildly and without emotion as if it was as simple of a fact that two plus two equals four. For some reason, she couldn’t find her anger at it because he was right. Delia felt deflated as he walked right back out the door he came in. Ojiro shrugged at her, “It’s the second day. We’ll get it next time.” She attempted a small smile at his effort to not seem upset on how quickly that ended. She gathered some of the water on the floor and refilled her tanks before walking out with her partner.

They settled back in the screening room as each battle went on. Delia took the time to see everyone’s Quirk and was impressed by how power heavy the class seemed. Acid, shadow, hardening, tape, energy beams, and it went on which was great to watch but definitely put even more attention on how short her and Ojiro’s battle went. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bakugo far from the group with his gaze on the floor and teeth gritted. He was not taking this well. Maybe I wasn’t far off in the unhinged part from earlier...  

Delia was half tempted to see if he was alright, which she obviously could tell he wasn’t, but pulled herself back as she did not like how he was in his battle in the slightest. The urge never went away as her classmates continued the missions and she kept one eye on the screen and the other on the boy looking on the verge of a crisis in the corner.

Finally, everyone had battled and class was dismissed with a quick congrats speech in from their teacher then an even quicker exit as he zoomed right out. Delia figured it was because he was losing his stamina at holding his form.

_____________________________________________________

Back in the classroom, Delia was putting her books in her bag when she heard the door open.

It was Midoriya who looked much better than when she saw him last. A bunch of the class ran to meet and introduce themselves to him which was a nice change of pace for him, she assumed. She doubted he was very popular in his last school considering how he and Bakugo came from the same school.

“Tokoyami! Stop using that desk as a chair!” Iida walked determinedly to the boy sitting on his desk while he talked to her former mission partner and Jiro. Jiro put her hand on her hip and said, “Dude, you need to chill.”

Ojiro pointed at him, “You’re carrying a lot of tension.”

Iida slumped forward in defeat as she walked over to the small group, “No one understands.” Delia swung herself on the desk next to Iida which caused them to laugh as she put her hand on his shoulder with comfort and some slight mocking, “It’s okay, Iida. Someday they’ll learn proper manners and respect.”

He sighed and nodded before turning to her, “Yes, well uh - Oh, c'mon!”

Delia giggled and swung her legs like a child, “I said they would. I didn’t say I would too.” She giggled again when the blue haired boy pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation before walking away.

“Hey, Bell.” She looked up from laughing at Jiro. “Yeah?”

“Is that a My Chemical Romance button on your bag?” Delia looked over to her desk with her various buttons and stickers on the side of her bag.

“Yes, it is. You a fan?”

“Major.”

“I listen to them occasionally as well.” Tokoyami threw in. Jiro grinned, “Nice to know some of us have some taste.” Ojiro scratched the back of his head, “Well, I guess I have none.”

“It’s alright. We’ll just have to educate you!” Jiro elbowed him gently. Delia looked at her watch then hopped off the desk, “Oops. I have to catch my train!”

When she ran outside, her eyebrows raised as she saw that Midoriya and All Might were staring off into the distance. Delia waved at them, “Feel better, Midoriya. Have a nice night, Sir!”

Running down the hill, she flew up to Bakugo and found her feet slowing a bit. They looked at each other for a moment and Delia opened her mouth to say something before she thought better of it and continued down the hill to catch her train home.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x oc #mha fanfiction #mha smut #TCOAS #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction

[96harmony96]

Chapter 15

Friday found Trey sharing breakfast with Cary and me after an overnighter. As I drank the day’s first cup of coffee, I watched him interact with Cary and I was genuinely thrilled to see the intimate smiles and covert touches they gave one another.

I’d had easy relationships like that and hadn’t appreciated them at the time. They had been comfortable and uncomplicated, but they’d been superficial in a fundamental way, too.

How deep could a love affair get if you didn’t know the darkest recesses of your lover’s soul? That was the dilemma I’d faced with Lauren.

Day 2 After Lauren had begun. I found myself wanting to go to her and apologize for leaving her yet again. I wanted to tell her I was there for her, ready to listen or simply offer silent comfort. But I was too emotionally invested. I got wounded too easily. I was too afraid of rejection. And knowing she wouldn’t let me get too close only intensified that fear. Even if we did figure things out, I’d only tear myself apart trying to live with just the bits and pieces she decided to share with me.

At least my job was going well. The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honor of the agency landing the Kingsman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment. But when I heard that Lauren had been invited—although no one expected her to show up—I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work the rest of the afternoon.

I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with crème brulée for dessert—comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma. I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.

Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn’t tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.

“When are the Grey Isles’ campaign ads going up?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but get this…” He grinned. “You know how it is with male models—we’re tossed around like condoms at an orgy. It’s tough to stand out from the crowd, unless you’re dating someone famous. Which I’m suddenly reported to be doing since those photos of you and me were plastered everywhere. I’m the side piece of action in your relationship with Lauren Jauregui. You’ve done wonders for making me a hot commodity.”

I laughed. “You didn’t need my help for that.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t hurt. Anyway, they called me back for a couple more shoots. I think they might just use me for more than five minutes.”

“We’ll have to celebrate,” I teased.

“Absolutely. When you’re up for it.”

We ended up hanging out and watching the original Tron. His smartphone rang twenty minutes into the movie and I heard him speaking to his agency. “Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen, tops. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Got a job?” I asked after he’d hung up.

“Yeah. A model showed up for a night shoot so trashed he’s worthless.” He studied me. “You wanna come?”

I stretched my legs out on the couch. “Nope. I’m good right here.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“All I need is mindless entertainment. Just the thought of getting dressed again exhausts me.” I’d be happy wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and holey old tank top all weekend. As much as I hurt inside, total comfort outside seemed like a necessity. “Don’t worry about me. I know I’ve been a mess lately, but I’ll get it together. Go on and enjoy yourself.”

After Cary rushed out, I paused the movie and went to the kitchen for some wine. I stopped by the breakfast bar, my fingertips gliding over the roses Lauren had sent me the previous weekend. Petals fell to the countertop like tears. I thought about cutting the stems and using the flower food packet that came with the bouquet, but it was pointless hanging on to them. I’d throw the arrangement away tomorrow, the last reminder of my equally doomed relationship.

I’d gotten farther with Lauren in one week than I had with other relationships that lasted two years. I would always love her for that. Maybe I’d always love her, period.

And one day, that might not hurt so badly.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Cary singsonged as he yanked the comforter off of me.

“Ugh. Go away.”

“You’ve got five minutes to get your ass up and in the shower, or the shower’s coming to you.”

Opening one eye, I peeked at him. He was shirtless and wearing baggy pants that barely clung to his hips. As far as wake-up calls went, he was prime. “Why do I have to get up?”

“Because when you’re flat on your back you’re not on your feet.”

“Wow. That was deep, Cary Taylor.”

He crossed his arms and shot me an arch look. “We need to go shopping.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “No.”

“Yes. I seem to remember you saying this was a ‘Sunday garden party’ and ‘rock star gathering’ in the same sentence. What the hell do I wear to something like that?”

“Ah, well. Good point.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I…I don’t know. I was leaning toward the ‘English tea with hat’ look, but now I’m not so sure.”

He gave a brisk nod. “Right. Let’s hit the shops and find something sexy, classy, and cool.”

Growling a token protest, I rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It was impossible to shower without thinking of Lauren, without picturing her perfect body and remembering the desperate sounds she made when she came in my mouth. Everywhere I looked, Lauren was there. I’d even started hallucinating black Bentley SUVs all around town. I thought I spotted one damn near everywhere I went.

Cary and I had lunch; then we bounced all over the city, hitting the best of the Upper East Side thrift stores and Madison Avenue boutiques before taking a taxi downtown to SoHo. Along the way, Cary had two teenage girls ask for his autograph, which tickled me more than him, I think.

“Told you,” he crowed.

“Told me what?”

“They recognized me from an entertainment news blog. One of the posts about you and Jauregui.”

I snorted. “Glad my love life is working out for someone.”

He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.

“You still happy in New York?” he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.

“So far so good.” A lie, but the truth helped no one.

His partner said something I didn’t catch. My dad snorted and said, “Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won’t leave me alone about it.”

I sighed. “Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells.”

“So you’re not dating one of the richest people in America?”

“No. What about your love life?” I asked, quickly diverting. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nothing serious. Hang on.” He responded to a call on the radio, then said, “Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful.”

“Always. Bye.”

I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Lauren now? What was she doing?

Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of her with another woman?

____

Sunday afternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton’s town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day 4 After Lauren. The pain I’d felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I was going through some sort of physical withdrawal and my throat burned with unshed tears.

“Are you nervous?” Cary asked me.

I glanced at him. “Not really. Lauren won’t be there.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I wouldn’t be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride you know.” I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we’d done yesterday, he’d made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I’d teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.

He caught me looking at it. “What? You still don’t like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket.”

“Cary”—my lips quirked—“you can wear anything.”

It was true. Cary could pull any look off, a benefit of having a sculpted rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.

I set my hand over his restless fingers. “Are you nervous?”

“Trey didn’t call last night,” he muttered. “He said he would.”

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just one missed call, Cary. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything serious.”

“He could’ve called this morning,” he argued. “Trey’s not flakey like the others I’ve dated. He wouldn’t have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn’t want to.”

“The rat bastard. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday.”

His mouth twitched. “Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It’s a shame Jauregui won’t see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress.”

“Eww!” I smacked his shoulder and mock-glared when he laughed.

The dress had seemed perfect to both of us when we’d found it. It was cut in a classic garden party style—fitted bodice with a knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist. It was even white with flowers. But that’s where the tea-and-crumpets style ended.

The edginess came from the strapless form, the alternating layers of black and crimson satin underskirts that gave it volume, and the black leather flowers that looked like wicked pinwheels. Cary had picked the red Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps out of my closet and the ruby drop earrings to give it all the finishing touch. We’d decided to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, in case we arrived and learned that hats were required. All in all, I felt pretty and confident.

Clancy drove us through an imposing set of monogrammed gates and turned into a circular driveway, following the direction of a valet. Cary and I got out by the entrance, and he took my arm as my heels sank into blue-gray gravel on the walk to the house.

Upon entering the Vidal’s sprawling Tudor-style mansion, we were warmly greeted by lauren’s family in a receiving line—her mother, stepfather, Christopher, and their sister.

I took in the sight, thinking the Vidal family could only look more perfect if Lauren was lined up with them. Her mother and sister had her coloring, both women boasting the same glossy obsidian hair and thickly-lashed green eyes. They were both beautiful in a finely wrought way.

“Camila!” Lauren’s mother drew me toward her, then air-kissed both of my cheeks. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. What a gorgeous girl you are! And your dress. I love it.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands brushed over my hair, cupped my face, and then slid down my arms. It was hard for me to bear it, because touching was sometimes an anxiety trigger for me when the person was a stranger. “Your hair, is it naturally brunette?”

“Yes,” I replied, startled and confused by the question. Who asked a question like that of a stranger?

“How fascinating. Well, welcome. I hope you have a wonderful time. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Feeling strangely unsettled, I was grateful when her attention moved to Cary and zeroed in.

“And you must be Cary,” she crooned. “Here I’d been certain my three children were the most attractive in the world. I see I was wrong about that. You are simply divine, young man.”

Cary flashed his megawatt smile. “Ah, I think I’m in love, Mrs. Vidal.”

she laughed with throaty delight. “Please. Call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzie, if you’re brave enough.”

Looking away, I found my hand clasped by Christopher Vidal Senior. In many ways, he reminded me of his son, with his slate green eyes and boyish smile. In others, he was a pleasant surprise. Dressed in khakis, loafers, and a cashmere cardigan, he looked more like a college professor than a music company executive.

“Camila. May I call you Camila?”

“Please do.”

“Call me Chris. It makes it a little easier to distinguish between me and Christopher.” His head tilted to the side as he contemplated me through quirky brass spectacles. “I can see why Lauren is so taken with you. Your eyes are a deep chocolate brown, yet they’re so clear and direct. Quite the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen, aside from my wife’s.”

I flushed. “Thank you.”

“Is Lauren coming?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Why didn’t her parents know the answer to that question?

“We always hope.” He gestured at a waiting servant. “Please head back to the gardens and make yourself at home.”

Christopher greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while lauren’s sister Ireland sized me up in a sulky way that only a teenager could pull off. “You’re a brunette,” she said.

Jeez. Was lauren’s preference for light-haired women a damn law or something? “And you’re a very lovely brunette.”

Cary offered me his arm and I accepted it gratefully.

As we walked away, he asked me quietly, “Were they what you expected?”

“Her mom, maybe. Her stepdad, no.” I looked back over my shoulder, taking in the elegant floor-length cream sheath dress that clung to Elizabeth Vidal’s svelte figure. I thought of what little I knew about Lauren’s family. “How does a girl grow up to be a businesswoman who takes over her stepfather’s family business?”

“Jauregui owns shares in Vidal Records?”

“Controlling interest.”

“Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?” he offered. “A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?”

“Why not just give him the money?” I wondered.

“Because she’s a shrewd businesswoman?”

With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Lauren, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.

Once we’d moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.

Cary patted my shoulder. “You relax. I’ll network.”

“Go get ’em.”

He moved away, intent on his agenda.

I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.

I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I’d hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.

A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to lauren’s club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.

“Hey, Camila.” He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. “Are you having fun? You’re not mingling much.”

“I’m having a great time.” At least I had been. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you’re here. Me, too, of course.” His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. “Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me.” He winked, and then hopped up and away.

Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. she looked worldlier than her seventeen years. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Lauren?”

I shrugged at the blunt question. “I’m not sure.”

she nodded sagely. “she’s good at being a loner.”

“Has she always been that way?”

“I guess. she moved out when I was little. Do you love her?”

My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, “Yes.”

“I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park.” she bit her lush lower lip. “Is she fun? You know…to hang around with?”

“Oh. Well…” God. Did anyone know Lauren? “I wouldn’t say she’s fun, but she’s never boring.”

The live band began playing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. “Time to make me look good, Ginger.”

“I’ll try my best, Fred.” I smiled at Ireland. “Excuse me a minute.”

“Three minutes, forty seconds,” she corrected, displaying some of her family’s expertise in music.

Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute to get into it, because I’d been stiff and tight with misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime partners kicked in and we glided across the floor with sweeping steps.

When the singer’s voice faded with the music, we stopped, breathless. We were pleasantly surprised by applause. Cary gave an elegant bow and I held on to his hand for stability as I dipped into a curtsy.

When I lifted my head and straightened, I found Lauren standing in front of me. Startled, I stumbled back a step. she was seriously underdressed in jeans and an untucked white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, but she was so damn fine she still put every other woman in attendance to shame.

The tremendous yearning I felt at the sight of her overwhelmed me. Distantly I was aware of the band’s singer pulling Cary away, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Lauren, whose wildly green eyes burned into mine.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, scowling.

I recoiled from her harshness. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” she grabbed me by the elbow and started hauling me toward the house. “I don’t want you here.”

If she’d spit in my face, it couldn’t have devastated me more. I yanked my arm free of her and walked briskly toward the house with my head held high, praying I could make it to the privacy of the town car and Clancy’s protective watch before the tears started falling.

Behind me, I heard a come-hither female voice call out lauren’s name and I sent up a prayer that the woman would stall her long enough for me to get out without further confrontation.

I thought I just might make it when I passed into the cool interior of the house.

“Camila, wait.”

My shoulders hunched at the sound of Lauren’s voice and I refused to look at her. “Get lost. I can show myself out.”

“I’m not done—”

“I am!” I pivoted to face her. “You don’t get to talk to me that way. Who do you think you are? You think I came here for you? That I was hoping I’d see you and you’d throw me a goddamn scrap or bone…some pathetic acknowledgment of my existence? Maybe I’d be able to harass you into a quick, dirty fuck in a corner somewhere in a pitiful effort to win you back?”

“Shut up, Camila.” Her gaze was scorching hot, her jaw tight and hard. “Listen to me—”

“I’m only here because I was told you wouldn’t be. I’m here for Cary and his career. So you can go back to the party and forget about me all over again. I assure you, when I walk out the door, I’ll be doing the same to you.”

“Shut your damned mouth.” she caught me by the elbows and shook me so hard my teeth snapped together. “Just shut up and let me talk.”

I slapped her hard enough to turn her head. “Don’t touch me.”

With a growl, Lauren hauled me into her and kissed me hard, bruising my lips. Her hand was in my hair, fisting it roughly, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn away. I bit the tongue she thrust aggressively into my mouth, then her lower lip, tasting blood, but she didn’t stop. I shoved at her shoulders with everything I had, but I couldn’t budge her.

Goddamn Stanton! If not for him and my crazy-assed mother, I’d have had a few Krav Maga classes under my belt by now…

Lauren kissed me as if she was starved for the taste of me and my resistance began to melt. she smelled so good, so familiar. Her body felt so perfectly right against mine. My nipples betrayed me, hardening into tight points, and a slow, hot trickle of arousal gathered in my core. My heart thundered in my chest.

God, I wanted her. The craving hadn’t gone away, not even for a minute.

she picked me up. Imprisoned by her tight grip, it was hard to breathe and my head began to spin. When she carried me through a door and kicked it shut behind her, I couldn’t do more than make a feeble sound of protest.

I found myself pressed against a heavy glass door on the other side of a library, lauren’s hard and powerful body subduing my own. Her arm at my waist slid lower, her hand delving beneath my skirts and finding the curves of my butt exposed by my lacy boy shorts underwear. she wrenched my hips hard to her, making me feel how hard she was, how aroused. My sex trembled with want, achingly empty.

All the fight left me. My arms fell to my sides, my palms pressing flat to the glass. I felt the brittle tension drain from her body as I softened in surrender, the pressure of her mouth easing and her kiss turning into a passionate coaxing.

“Camila,” she breathed gruffly. “Don’t fight me. I can’t take it.”

My eyes closed. “Let me go, Lauren.”

she nuzzled her cheek against mine, her breath gusting hard and fast over my ear. “I can’t. I know you’re disgusted by what you saw the other night…what I was doing to myself—”

“Lauren, no!” God. Did she think I left hee because of that? “That’s not why—”

“I’m losing my mind without you.” Her lips were gliding down my neck, her tongue stroking over my racing pulse. she sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. “I can’t think. I can’t work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try.”

Tears slipped free and ran down my face. They splashed on the upper swell of my breasts and she licked at them, lapping them away.

How would I ever recover if she made love to me again? How would I survive if she didn’t?

“I never stopped wanting you,” I whispered. “I can’t stop. But you hurt me, Lauren. You have the power to hurt me like no one else can.”

Her gaze was stark and confused on my face. “I hurt you? How?”

“You lied to me. You shut me out.” I cupped her face, needing hero to understand this one thing without question. “Your past doesn’t have the power to push me away. Only you can do that, and you did.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she rasped. “I never wanted you to see me like that…”

“That’s the problem, Lauren. I want to know who you are, the good and the bad, and you want to keep parts of yourself hidden from me. If you don’t open up, we’re going to lose each other down the road and I won’t be able to take it. I’m barely surviving it now. I’ve crawled through the last four days of my life. Another week, a month…It’ll break me to give you up.”

“I can let you in, Camila. I’m trying. But your first response when I screw up is to run away. You do it every time and I can’t stand feeling like any moment I’m going to do or say something wrong and you’re going to bolt.”

Her mouth was tender again as she brushed her lips back and forth over mine. I didn’t argue with her. How could I, when she was right?

“I hoped you’d come back on your own,” she murmured, “but I can’t stay away anymore. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. Whatever it takes to get you back in the same room with me, talking this out.”

My heart stuttered. “You were hoping I’d come back? I thought…You gave me back my keys. I thought we were over.”

she pulled back, her face set in fierce lines. “We’ll never be over, Camila.”

I looked at her, my heart aching like an open wound at how beautiful she was, how broken and in pain she was—pain I’d caused to some degree.

On tiptoes, I kissed the reddened handprint I’d left on her cheek, clutching her thick silky hair in my hands.

Lauren bent her knees to align our bodies, her breathing harsh and erratic. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you need. Anything. Just take me back.”

Maybe I should have been scared by the depth of her need, but I felt the same passionate insanity for her.

Running my hands down her chest in an effort to soothe her trembling, I gave her the hard truth. “We can’t seem to stop making each other miserable. I can’t keep doing this to you and I can’t keep going through these crazy highs and lows. We need help, Lauren. We’re seriously dysfunctional.”

“I saw Dr. Petersen on Friday. He’s going to take me on as a patient, and—if you agree—he’ll take us both on as a couple. I figured if you can trust him, I can try.”

“Dr. Petersen?” I remembered the brief jolt I’d felt at seeing a black Bentley SUV when Clancy pulled away from the doctor’s office. At the time, I’d told myself it was wishful thinking. After all, there were countless black SUVs in New York. “You had me followed.”

Her chest expanded on a deep breath. she didn’t deny it.

I bit back my anger. I could only imagine how terrible it must be for her to be so dependent on something—someone—she couldn’t control. What mattered most at that moment were her willingness to try and the fact that it wasn’t just talk. she’d actually taken steps. “It’s going to be a lot of work, Lauren,” I warned her.

“I’m not afraid of work.” she was touching me restlessly, her hands sliding over my thighs and buttocks as if caressing my bare skin was as necessary to her as breathing. “I’m only afraid of losing you.”

I pressed my cheek to her. We completed each other. Even now, as her hands roamed possessively over me, I felt a thawing in my soul, the desperate relief of being held—finally—by the woman who understood and satisfied my deepest, most intimate desires.

“I need you.” Her mouth was sliding over my cheek and down my throat. “I need to be inside you…”

“No. My God. Not here.” But my protest sounded weak even to my own ears. I wanted her anywhere, anytime, any way…

“It has to be here,” she muttered, dropping to her knees. “It has to be now.”

she chafed my skin ripping the lace of my panties away; then she shoved my skirts to my waist and licked my cleft, her tongue parting my folds to stroke over my throbbing clit.

I gasped and tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the door at my back and a grimly determined Lauren in front, one hand keeping me pinned while the other lifted my left leg over her shoulder, opening me to her ardent mouth.

My head thudded against the glass, heat pulsing through my blood from the point where her tongue was driving me mad. My leg flexed against her back, urging her closer, my hands cupping her head to hold her still as I rocked into her. Feeling the rough satin strands of her hair against my sensitive inner thighs was its own provocation, heightening my awareness of everything around me…

We were in Lauren’s parents’ house, in the midst of a party attended by dozens of famous people, and she was on her knees, growling her hunger as she licked and sucked my slick, aching cleft. she knew just how to get to me, knew what I liked and needed. she had an understanding of my nature that went above and beyond her incredible oral skills. The combination was devastating and addicting.

My body shook, my eyelids heavy from the illicit pleasure. “Lauren…You make me come so hard.”

Her tongue rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to my body, teasing me, making me grind shamelessly into her working mouth. Her hands cupped my bare butt, kneading, urging me onto her tongue as she thrust it inside me. There was reverence in the greedy way she enjoyed me, the unmistakable sense that she worshipped my body, that pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it was as vital to her as the blood in her veins.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling the orgasm building. I was buzzed by champagne and the heated scent of Lauren’s skin mixed with my own arousal. My breasts strained within the increasingly too-tight confines of my strapless bra, my body trembling on the edge of a desperately needed orgasm. “I’m so close.”

A movement on the far side of the room caught my eye and I froze, my gaze locking with Magdalene’s. she stood just inside the door, halted midstride, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the back of Lauren’s moving head.

But she was either oblivious or too impassioned to care. Her lips circled my clit and her cheeks hallowed. Sucking rhythmically, she massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of her tongue.

Everything tightened viciously, then released in a fiery burst of pleasure.

The orgasm poured through me in a scorching wave. I cried out, pumping my hips mindlessly into her mouth, lost to the primal connection between us. Lauren held me up as my knees weakened, tonguing my quivering flesh until the last tremor faded.

When I opened my eyes again, our audience of one had fled.

Standing in a rush Lauren picked me up and carried me to the couch. she dropped me lengthwise on the cushion; then hauled my hips up to rest on the armrest, arching my spine.

I eyed her up the length of my torso. Why not just fold me over and fuck me from behind?

Then she ripped open her button-fly and pulled her big, beautiful penis out, and I didn’t care how she took me just so long as she did. I whimpered as she shoved into me, my body struggling to accommodate the wonderful fullness I craved. Yanking my hips to meet her powerful thrusts, Lauren battered my tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, her gaze dark and possessive, her breath leaving her in primitive grunts every time she hit the end of me.

A trembling moan left me, the friction of her drives stirring my never-sated need to be fucked senseless by her. Only her.

A handful of strokes and her head fell back as she gasped my name, her hips rolling to stir me into a frenzy. “Squeeze me, Camila. Squeeze my dick.”

When I complied, the ragged sound she made was so erotic my sex trembled in appreciation. “Yeah, angel…just like that.”

I tightened around her and she cursed. Her gaze found mine, the stunning green hazed with sexual euphoria. A convulsive shudder wracked her powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. Her cock jerked inside me, once, twice, and then she was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into the clutching depths of my body.

I didn’t have time to climax again, but it didn’t matter. I watched her with awe and pure female triumph. I could do this to her.

In the moments of orgasm, I owned her as completely as she owned me.

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 22

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 9,146

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

“Alright, Elsa, you can do this! You're going to get up on that stage and you're going to wow them!"

So all that stuff about me not trying out? Total bald-faced lie. Kudos to any of you who saw right through it. Since, you know… I'm so good at the whole deception thing.

"...alright fine, maybe not wow them, per se… but you can do okay at least, right?"

This was all just for fun, after all. It's not like it was anything important, it's not like it really mattered. It was nothing, just a silly childhood dream. Just one moment, one blip in time that would be over before I knew it. No big deal.

"...passable? Surely, you can at least give me passable!"

Now if only I could convince my reflection of that.

Which, judging by the flat look she was giving me from the mirror on my vanity, was not going too hot.

"Ugh!" I huffed, tossing up my hands and turning away to pace my bedroom floor. "Just try not to fall flat on your face and I'll be happy. Can you just do that much for me? Please?" I snapped, facing my reflection once more.

She scrunched up her nose and gave me a noncommittal shrug.

My shoulders slumped and I hung my head, bracing my hands atop the vanity table. "Look, you've been practicing nonstop since yesterday. And yes, I know what basically amounts to cramming sing-alongs for almost twenty-four hours straight isn't going to make up for the lack of any sort of professional training. Or the absence of any real experience. Or the fact that besides karaoke that one night, you pretty much haven't sung in almost a decade except for maybe a personal concert in the shower once in the blue moon. I know you're going into this blind and have no idea what you're doing and others there will be way better prepared than you and-" I frowned, narrowing my eyes, "...and I had a point. Fudge, what was it again?"

My reflection looked remarkably unmoved by my rallying little speech just now.

"Ah!" I snapped my fingers, face brightening before jabbing my index up against the mirror. "The point was that none of that matters! What matters is you've done the best you could do in the time you had! So worrying about it any further is nothing more than a useless waste of time and energy! So just go on out there, have a good time and… and give it your all!" My hands closed into fists and they made weak, halfhearted thrusts into the air over my head as I gave a tiny, "Woo!"

She just drooped her eyelids at me.

I plopped down hard into my chair with a small growl. "I know I suck at pep talks. Yeesh, you don't have to be so negative!"

I don't know why I even bothered. Reflection Me was always such a downer.

Sighing, I propped my chin in my palm while I brought my other hand up to fiddle with the flower poking out of a miniature vase sitting on my vanity. It was the winter honeysuckle Lea had given me, dried out now because I'd wanted it to last. I toyed with its delicate petals, my fingers gentle so as not to break them. Somehow merely touching it seemed to sooth my frayed nerves and lighten my spirits, even if only just a little bit.

My phone buzzed and I checked it to see that it was a text from Lea telling me he'd arrived and was on his way up. I exhaled slowly. Okay, I couldn't procrastinate any longer. It was now or never. I stood up and made my way over to my bed, on top of which laid the sheet music I'd managed to hunt down after some internet searching. Gathering it up with care so as not to wrinkle any of the pages, I then headed towards my bedroom door.

"Who's a pretty, pretty princess? Daddy is! Isn't that right, jelly-belly-welly-bean?"

The dulcet tone of Rayne cooing down at her own tummy was the first sound to greet me when I walked out into the living room. I blinked, taking in the scene before me as Rayne returned her attention to the, er… "pretty, pretty princess." That is to say, her husband, whose lips were set into a grim line while his left eye gave a little tick. She had him seated in one of the kitchen chairs as she stood behind him, putting the finishing touches on the long braid she'd fashioned his hair into. It was complete with teeny butterfly barrettes, a colorful assortment of flowers weaved throughout, and a giant, frilly bow at the end holding it all together.

More practice for styling her future daughter's hair.

I'd know, since normally I'd be the one sitting in that chair instead of Riku.

Thankfully, it was now his turn to suffer hair bedazzling hell.

"Not one word, Fryse," he grumbled. "Not a single, solitary word."

I held the sheet music up to my mouth, concealing a tiny grin behind it. Then carefully schooling my features, I told him, "I was only going to comment on how masculine and rugged you look this evening."

"Damn straight," he harrumphed, crossing his arms and slouching further into his seat.

"I have the bestest, sweetest, manliest hubby in the whole wide world," Rayne declared happily, pulling his head back so she could plant an upside down smooch to his lips. This seemed to mollify him somewhat. Giggling, she then glanced my way. "You all ready for your big debut, pumpkin?"

Rubbing one elbow, I shrugged, "...as ready as I'm going to be, I suppose."

Her lips twisted sourly as she clipped another glitzy butterfly into his hair. "Still wish I was able to go and give you moral support."

"No no, it's fine," I said hastily with a shake of my head and a small, reassuring smile. "Lea's driving me so it's not like I'm stranded in need of a ride or anything. Plus you have your baby appointment to get to and I wouldn't want to make you reschedule for some silly little thing like this. Really, just don't worry about it."

"Besides," Riku tacked on, "friends and family of those trying out aren't usually allowed in to watch the auditions anyway."

Rayne's cheeks gave a little puff of annoyance. "I'd like to see them try and stop me if I showed up."

There was a knock at the door just then. Knowing it was Lea, I moved to open it and found him standing there, one shoulder propped against the doorframe. He grinned down at me, "Hey, El! Ready to go? I-" he stopped as he looked past me, blinking a couple times. Then the curl to his lips grew a touch evil, "Yo, Raindrop, who's your new gal pal? She's hella cute!"

"Cram it before I curb stomp your ass," Riku ground out through his teeth.

"Threaten me with a good time, mamacita," he purred back at him, waggling his eyebrows.

Riku sneered with a tch, grumbling under this breath, "Better pray we don't meet in a dark alley, clown, because I will crush you."

"Oof, I usually like a girl to ask me to dinner first, but I might be willing to make an exception just this once if ya keep sweet talking me like that, gorgeous," Lea winked. As Riku shot up to his feet with a black look, I ran out the door and grabbed Lea's arm. "Oops, looks like duty calls. We'll hafta continue this later, hot stuff. Call me!" he blew Riku a kiss with a snigger as I dragged him away, slamming the door shut behind me.

I started jogging down the steps, listening to Lea's footfall as he followed close behind. Shaking my head with a soft scoff, I said, "Can't believe Mr Guyliner here is making fun of a dude with flowers in his hair."

"Was only doing it cuz I knew how butthurt he'd get over it," he snerked as he appeared at my side. "Now me personally? Don't have a problem with it. I'd rock a thousand posies in my majestic mane and look damn fine doing it too."

I glanced over at him, one corner of my lips tugging up. "I might have to hold you to that."

He flung himself onto the handrail and slid down past me in a blur. Converse hitting the landing below, Lea spun around to block my way just as I caught up to him, smirking as he brought himself nose-to-nose with me. "Only if you're the one weaving all them pretty lil blossoms into my hair."

My heart spasmed.

Down, girl.

After all, it was only the empty teasing he always did.

I turned my head a little, shooting him some side-eye. "...do I get to choose the flowers?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good." I ducked under his arm to slip past him and make my way towards the next flight of stairs, "Leadwort it is then."

"Well now, that sounds ominous." I could hear the frown in his voice. "Should I be worried?"

I shot him a sly grin over my shoulder. "Depends. Very pretty. Very, very itchy. Hope you're ready to suffer for fashion."

"For you?" he beamed, hopping down the steps two at a time now to gain on me once more. "Totally worth it."

I merely rolled my eyes, electing not to dignify his comment with a response.

Soon enough we'd climbed into his car and were hitting the road. Sunset Hill Auditorium wasn't really all that far, but still a bit further than I'd rather walk. Thankfully Lea had been free and only too happy to give me a lift over, seeing as how Riku and Rayne had a prior commitment on the other end of town. Speaking of, they'd probably left immediately right after us and I idly wondered if Riku was planning on showing up at the doctor's with his hairdo still all fab like that. The image brought a little smile to my face.

It quickly faded however as I stared down at the sheet music sitting in my lap. My fingers twisted at my braid as I took in a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. Now that I'd fallen quiet, I could feel that nervous energy creeping its way back into my chest. It was actually kind of sort of a good nervous. I was a bit loathe to admit it, but a small part of me was looking forward to this.

That said, it didn't mean I wasn't also absolutely friggin' terrified.

I was actually a little relieved that friends and family weren't normally allowed into the auditions. The offer of moral support was appreciated, but ultimately I think I would have been more anxious if Riku and Rayne had been able to come and watch. Anna too, for that matter. I know my sister would have dropped everything to be here in a heartbeat, which is why I hadn't even mentioned anything about this to her. Making a fool of myself in front of strangers? Mortifying, but I'd survive - at least if I royally screwed up, I'd never have to see any of them again and could just pretend the whole big mess had never happened. Not so if people I actually cared about were there to witness me flop hard. And it wouldn't matter how kind and supportive they would have been after any sort of epic failure on my part... in fact, that might have only made me feel even worse.

Still, them not coming was only a minor comfort lost in the sea of dread filling up inside me now. My stomach burned with queasiness and my lungs felt like they were shrinking, making it harder and harder to breathe.

"Hmm," Lea's low hum broke me out of my thoughts. I glanced over at him as he pursed his lips to one side before shaking his head, "Mm-mm, nope. Too tangy. You need to be spoiled rotten with the sugary sweetness."

Feeling that cold anxiety loosen its grip and recede somewhat, I furrowed my brow for a few seconds before it clicked. "Ah. You've ruled out another ice cream flavor for me."

"Yup!" he chirped, switching his car over into the next lane.

"So which one got the boot this time?"

"Ever After."

"Huh," I fixed my eyes on the road straight ahead, squinting slightly. "Didn't you rule out a different flavor previously for being too sweet?"

One of his hands came to rest on the shoulder of my car seat. "Well yeah, but having a sweet tooth is one thing, while suicide by pure, massive sugary overdose is something else altogether. I think you know where to draw the line."

I tipped my head to one side. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" he echoed, quirking an eyebrow as he checked his side view mirror. "...am I wrong?"

"Didn't say that," I muttered, my fingers absently fiddling with the corners of the sheet music. "Just said it was interesting."

He frowned. "Crap. That's gonna bug me now."

I flashed him a half-grin. "I know."

"Cruel, cruel woman."

I just crinkled my nose at him smugly.

I knew he was trying to take my mind off the audition. And the distraction was welcome, but unfortunately brief. I could already feel that frown resurfacing, that apprehensive chill knotting tightening in my stomach once more.

Lea shifted his head slightly towards me, watching me out of his peripheral with a small downward tug at the corner of his lips. "...ya know you got absolutely nothing to worry about, right?" he asked softly. My eyes flicked over to him for a second before staring back down at my lap again. He elaborated, "It's community theater."

My eyebrows knit together. "...so?"

"So that means ya got no one to impress. Nothing to prove. No one's gonna be expecting a Julliard education from you or for you to have a few Broadway shows under your belt. This is all just for kicks. An absolutely zero pressure environment. Just a buncha goofballs who like acting and singing and dancing around in wacky costumes and so have found others who share their same brand o' crazy so they can all geek out together doing what they love in their free time. Doesn't matter to any of 'em how good or bad ya might be. They're not there to judge, they just wanna have a good time." He lightly tapped his knuckles to my shoulder, "So loosen up, will ya? You're gonna have a blast and knock 'em dead."

The knots loosened a little and a small grin found its way onto my face despite myself. "Thanks, Lea."

Surprisingly, his words helped.

For a grand total of two minutes.

Which just so happened to be right about when we were parking in front of the auditorium. Imagine that.

"Break a leg! I'll just chill in the car and you can meet me back here when you're done," Lea told me as he rolled down his window and fished his phone out of his pocket.

I barely heard him over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. Swallowing hard and finding my throat too tight for words, I simply gave a stiff nod before climbing out of the car. Hugging the sheet music to my chest, I stepped over the curb and up onto the sidewalk before pausing to stare at the auditorium's double doors, opened wide to invite people in. My bottom lip tucked in and I made a quick glance back towards Lea who grinned and gave me a thumbs up through his window. Then I looked at that doorway once more.

My eyes hardened. My hands gripped the papers more firmly. My chest puffed up and my spine snapped straight.

Let's do this.

I determinedly marched right up to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the entrance.

Then I spun one-eighty and determinedly marched straight back the way I'd come from.

Lea looked up from his phone, both eyebrows shooting up his forehead. "El? Did you forget-"

Whipping back around, I drew in a deep breath before releasing it.

Alright, let's try that again.

I stomped towards the building once more.

This time I actually made it onto the first cement step before retreating.

Expression blank, Lea said nothing as he watched me do this again (making it as far as the second step up) and yet again (third step). By my next attempt, he'd gotten out and was leaning back against his closed car door, arms folded beneath his chest, ankles crossed. Drat, only the third step again. As I returned and came to a stop in front of him, my eyes narrowed and I released a huff through my nose. He just gave me a small shrug, as if to ask what exactly I expected him to do. I whirled on my heel once more, stormed back towards the auditorium and… fudge! Third step again! Now I was just in a friggin' rut!

Beyond frustrated with myself, I walked up beside Lea this time, folded my arms atop the roof of his car, pillowed my face into them and let out a muffled yell. Then I flipped around, bracing my back against the vehicle and scowled up at the sky.

A pause.

Then Lea piped up, "Ya know you actually have to go inside the place in order to audition… right?"

I whacked him upside the head with my sheet music.

"...take that as a yes."

My shoulders sagged and I hid my face behind the papers in my hands, mumbling, "I can't do this. I'm too much of a scaredy-cat."

There was a snort from him. "You kidding? You're one of the bravest people I know."

I scoffed into the printouts, "Stop patronizing me. I don't appreciate it."

"I'm serious." I felt his hands on mine, gently pulling both them and the sheet music down so I could see him standing in front of me now, hunched down to my eye level. "Do you know what the definition of being brave is?"

"Not Elsa, that's for sure," I muttered, looking away.

"Shush," he flicked my forehead. Rude. "Being brave is not a complete and total absence of fear. No, being brave is taking action despite your fear. Remember your wedding day?"

I fixed him with a dull stare. "How could I forget? I ran away. Like a coward."

"No, a coward woulda done nothing. A coward woulda just done as she was told cuz she would be too chicken to make any waves. A coward woulda stayed, gone through with the wedding and led a miserable life she didn't want just to please her folks. Just because it was the safest, easiest route. But you didn't do that."

"No, instead I oh so bravely ran away like a warrior," I corrected my previous statement with a roll of my eyes.

He nodded, "Exactly! You were frightened, had no idea what you were gonna do, didn't have the foggiest of where to go or who to turn to, and yet you still did it. Took that leap and did the whole independent thing and guess what? You've been thriving!" His hands still cradling mine, I felt his thumbs start to trace soothing circles along my knuckles. "And sure, everything's been new and scary… finding a job, meeting new people, not caving to your family's demands… but no matter how afraid you may have got, you never hid from any of it. You've been facing your fears and meeting each new challenge head on. Now I'd call that pretty damn brave."

Wow, his pep talk game was way, way better than mine.

That said, I still eyed him dubiously. "Really?"

"Hell yeah! Shit, if I had to carry around as much fear inside of me as you do, I dunno if I'd be strong enough to do half the things you've done! You're a goddamn hero, babydoll!" he smiled big. "Now, I know this is something ya really want."

My face heated and I averted my gaze. "...how can you tell?"

"Trust me, I can read you pretty well by now," his fingers tweaked my nose. "So listen up: if you can do all that other stuff that terrified you before, if you can just grab hold and take charge of your life the way you have so far, then this one teensy-weensy audition should be a total piece of cake!"

"You really think so?" I frowned uncertainly at him.

"I know so!" he declared with a laugh. "So whaddya say? Think you're ready to do this?"

Though my chest was still tight with anxiety, I could feel that tiny glow of excitement and longing deep, deep down sparking back to life. I slowly smiled and gave a hesitant nod, "...yes, I believe so."

"Then what're you standing round here for? Go on, scoot!"

I didn't budge an inch. After a few seconds, I hung my head. "My feet won't move."

Lea blinked, then chuckled softly. "Do you need me to give ya a tow?"

I grimaced, "Maybe."

"Alright, I can help you inside, but that's as far as I'll be able to take ya. It'll be up to you to get yourself on that stage."

"Just get me through that door," I agreed quietly.

Linking his hand in mine, he turned and led the way towards the auditorium. I stumbled into a walk behind him, drawing what little strength I could from his warm, steady grip. With his help, I finally made it all the way up those daunting stairs and through that foreboding doorway.

Only to be stopped almost immediately once we stepped inside by someone standing in our way.

That someone being a tall, familiar, skinny guy with a spooky yet snappy suit.

"Elsa!" Jack flashed me what I was beginning to suspect was his signature ear-to-ear grin. "You don't know how thrilled I am to see that you could make it! Here to try out or just observe?"

"...try out?" I said, voice small. Yes, it came out just like that. Like it was a question. Like there was a right or wrong answer and I was just guessing, hoping for the best.

"Splendid, Splendid! Glad to hear it! I'll get you added to the director's list and your name will be called when it's your time to shine. For now, you can just take a seat and watch the others. Lea," he turned his gaze on him now, "good to see you too, but you know the rules. Unless you're here to audition, you're going to have to wait outside."

I unconsciously sidled closer to Lea, squeezing his hand.

Huh. Guess I actually wanted him to stick around and watch me make a fool out of myself. Shocked? I know I was.

Maybe it was because he thought I was brave. Maybe if he stayed, I could trick myself into thinking I was brave too.

Lea snuck a glance my way. Eyes crinkling, he squeezed my hand back before returning his attention to Jack with a sheepish grin and ruffled his fingers through his crimson spikes, "Aw c'mon, man, this is her first time! Could ya maybe be a pal, do me a solid and bend the rules a lil just this once?"

Jack crossed his arms, squinting at him with a flat look. Then he sighed and stepped to one side, his smile back and bigger than ever, "Alright, just this one time though! And you better be on your best behavior, bucko!"

"I will! Scout's honor!" he held up three fingers pressed together and beamed. "Thanks, man! Let's go, El." And with that, Lea was pulling me further inside.

The auditorium was larger on the inside than I expected, with rows upon rows of theater seating stretching out before us. While those seats were far from full, there were still more people here than I'd expected there would be, making me gulp. Auditions were already under way it seemed as I watched a familiar guy I recalled seeing in the food court previously - Joshua, I believe? - dip into a flamboyant bow before jumping down off the stage. Remaining up there was an old, clunky piano on wheels with Mullet Boy from the Blue Sitar seated at it.

"Setzer, you're up," came a call from someone sitting in the middle of the third row, presumably the director. All I could tell about him from the back of his head was that he had choppy, shoulder-length pink hair. Slumping lazily into the seat next to him with feet kicked up onto the chair in front of her was that blonde chick from Cinema XIII - I'd recognize that weird hairdo anywhere.

"Ah, looks like Marluxia The Douche-ah is running the show this time round," Lea whispered into my ear with a nod towards Mr Rosy-Locks as we walked down the aisle. "Not gonna be winning Personality Of The Year anytime soon, but I hear he can be a halfway decent director."

He then straightened back up, eyes scanning the people gathered here for a second before his face lit up, "Oo, let's sit with them!" His hands went to my shoulders and he steered me into a sharp turn down one of the rows. Coming to a stop next to two more faces I vaguely recognized, Lea greeted, "Ladies, mind if we join you?"

The two women looked up at us with friendly smiles, the ginger nodding, "Of course! Take a seat!"

We did just that, with the pair of them to my right and Lea to my left. He reached across in front of me to fistbump the closer of the two girls, "Sweet! Redheads of the world unite, booyah!"

I looked over with a timid grin. It was time once again for another one of my little misadventures into the world of small talk! Clearing my throat and tapping my sheep music against my knees to straighten them even though they were in no actual need of straightening, I asked, "It was Tiana and… Ariel, I believe?"

"Mm-hm!" Ariel closed her eyes as her smile grew. "Elsa, right? We haven't officially met yet, but I remember seeing you around at 7th Heaven that one night! You and Lea were amazing at karaoke! Well… really more so you. No offense, Lea," she giggled.

"None taken. I know my gal's got a beautiful pair o' lungs on her," he slung his arm around my shoulders, hugging me close and pressing a kiss into my hair.

Tiana leaned forward to look past Ariel and meet my gaze, "You really do. Do you work with a professional voice coach or anything?"

I blushed, tugging on my braid. "I, uh… no. No, nothing like that."

"Really?" Ariel's lips formed a surprised little 'o'. Then her face brightened once more, "Well, if you're looking for someone, I can put you in touch with mine if you'd like. His name is Sebastian and he's absolutely wonderful. He can be uptight and a bit of a party-pooper, but he gets results!"

Squeezing my braid harder now, I gaped at her slightly. "You actually have a voice coach?"

This was community theatre, as Lea had made a strong point of earlier. People here weren't supposed to have friggin' voice coaches!

"Yup! I'm going to be a famous singer one day and finally leave this sleepy town to tour all over the world, after all, so it's important I do my best right now! I've been practicing ever since I was-"

"Eric to the stage please," Marluxia's voice suddenly echoed throughout the room.

Ariel gasped excitedly and struck a finger up to her lips, shushing Tiana, Lea and me (despite the fact that none of us were talking) before eagerly sitting forward in her chair, practically buzzing with anticipation. That silver-haired Setzer guy - oh gosh, had he come in costume or was that crazy getup just what he normally wore? - swaggered cockily down the stairs to the right of the stage while another dude was coming up the left. The newcomer had short black hair, dimples when he smiled and I suppose what some might call Prince Charming good looks.

Ariel plonked her elbows down onto her knees and propped her chin up in both hands with a delighted sigh. "Isn't he dreamy?"

Tiana wrinkled her nose and muttered to me behind Ariel's head, "She has a bit of a crush."

"You're one to talk," Ariel snorted, elbowing her in the arm. "Naveen's should be up next. Believe me," she smirked towards me, "you haven't seen heart-eyes until you see the ones Tiana has for this guy."

"Shut up, do not!" she laughed, swatting her shoulder.

Brushing her off, Ariel suddenly pointed towards my sheet music. "May I?"

"Oh, uh… s-sure," I handed them over, freeing up both my hands to strangle my braid now. Noticing this, Lea took one of them in his own, shifting it over to the armrest between us and lacing his fingers into mine. The warmth of his palm against the back of my hand brought me some comfort and I felt a little less restless.

Ariel squinted at the papers for a second before grinning, "Oh wow, I love this song! Good choice! Although, if I remember correctly…" she flipped towards the end. "Ah, yup! A second singer does come in. They only have a couple lines though. I can go up with you and fill in for those bits if ya want, the director shouldn't mind!"

"That's really nice… thank you," I smiled, taking the pages back. Sally had said pretty much the same thing when I'd texted her to make sure the song would be okay, but that still had meant I needed to find someone to sing those few extra lines. I hadn't counted on someone finding me instead. Thank goodness for small miracles.

This was one of my most favorite songs too. One from a musical I'd watched over and over again when I was a child, so often that it'd probably driven my parents to the point of insanity. I had just identified so much with the character who sang this number and it still to this day held a very special place in my heart, even after all these years. I knew this song forwards and backwards. Knew it like the back of my hand. I figured if I had any chance of leaving any sort of good impression here today, it would be with this song.

Looking up from the music notes scrawled across the papers, I saw that that Eric person had left. He'd been replaced by a man with a newsie hat on over his wavy, dark brown hair and was singing something jazzy. The way Tiana was reddening while Ariel giggled and whispered to her, I suspected this had to be Naveen. I tried to just sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Tried to banish the anxiety from my thoughts, instead focusing more on Lea's hand now toying with my fingers. On the way he lightly traced up and down their lengths, making them tingle pleasantly. Hoping that little tingle would help keep the nervousness at bay.

But it didn't.

I began to flinch slightly with each new name called, fearing it would be mine. Feeling a little relief when it wasn't, as well as a little annoyance from just wanting to get this over and done with already. A flinch for when Olette was called, who was sitting with a boy with black spiky hair held up by a headband. I idly wondered if it was that buddy of hers who hadn't been able to make it to Friday night drinks - Pence, I believe? Another flinch for when Yuna was called, some brunette with mismatched eyes who sang a pop song I was unfamiliar with. Two more flinches for each of her friends when their names were called, a perky blonde with a long ponytail full of small braids and a freaky looking goth chick in a tight, strappy leather outfit. And yet another flinch for when Rhyme was called, a girl whose sweet demeanor was at odds with the little skull on her black cap and the rap number she'd chosen to sing.

I had to keep resisting the urge to glance towards the doors in back. The ones leading to the outside world. To freedom. Not for the first time, I wondered… what if I made a run for it? You know, just straight up booked it? The idea did hold merit and was very tempting. Nay, extremely tempting.

The only drawback? I'd hate myself.

Because as much as I was dreading this, Lea hadn't been wrong. This was something I wanted. Like… really, really wanted. I'd been trying to lie to myself, pretending I didn't really care, downplaying how important it actually was to me. But this was something I'd dreamt about since I was little. Sadly, I had lost that dream somewhere along the way as I had grown older. Had misplaced and forgotten it in favor of pleasing my parents, of fulfilling their wishes and expectations for me and how I led my life. I had carelessly discarded it, giving it up for nothing more than useless childhood fantasy.

But now it had found its way back to me and I'd been given a second chance. And even if it ended up going nowhere and turned out to be nothing more than a deadend, I still had to try. I just knew that this was something that I had to do. That I needed to do. For me. For the sake of my own happiness.

...gah, just why did it have to be so scary though?!

And all these women trying out before me? Were so not helping! They were all so amazing and talented. Each one seemed better than the last. Each one had most likely been practicing for this audition for days, if not weeks. Each one had probably done this at least once before. Everyone knew everyone here and were all friends. Everyone, that is, except for me. How could I, a stranger with no real experience or training and very little preparation, possibly even hope to stand a chance?

Man, making a break for it through that back door was looking better and better by the second.

My fingers clutched the sheet music more tightly, wrinkling and creasing it after I'd tried so hard not to this whole time. I didn't really seem to care anymore. I could feel the blood draining from my face and-

"Yawn, total snoozefest," came a sudden whisper in my ear.

I jerked my head around towards it, blinking owlishly at Lea once, then twice. "...huh?"

"Her," he nodded to the current girl trying out, her long golden hair ending in curls. "That Aurora chick. She's got me just 'bout ready to hibernate over here."

My wide eyes darted back and forth between her and him. Then it happened. A tiny snerk, escaping through my nose before I could stop it. Too late I clasped a hand over my mouth. After a short pause, I lowered it to whisper back, "You don't really mean that. You're just trying to distract me."

He bobbed his shoulders and grinned. "Is it working?"

I looked away now, carefully schooling my expression as I attempted to smooth the crumples out of my sheet music. "...maybe."

Next up was Tiana. "Jeez, talk about frog in your throat," Lea murmured low out of the corner of his mouth. A mutinous little snort burst out of my nose and I tried to shush him. Then it was Ariel's turn. "Love that girl to death but I'm sorry, a warbling seagull sounds better." I bit back a soft pft and pinched his arm. I was trying not to laugh, I really was, but each remark was so ridiculous, so stupid, so obviously not true that it was hard to resist. A Snow White was called next - now that was a stage name if I ever heard one. At least, I hoped it was. She'd gotten about halfway through her audition when I heard a hushed, "Tch, who taught her to sing, a buncha tone-deaf coal miners?"

I spluttered, clamping my hand firmly over his mouth. "Okay, you need to stop now," I hissed out in a poor attempt to hide my amusement.

There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Then I felt him licking my fingers.

"Ugh, real mature," I scrunched up my face, snatching my hand back only to wipe it off on his cheek a second later.

"Psh, acting like ya don't like it," he sniggered, cupping the side of my head so he could pull me in and rub his damp cheek to mine.

I squirmed, trying to break free. "Gross! Why? Just… why?"

Grip holding me firmly in place while he still nuzzled our cheeks together, he cooed, "Consider it a good luck charm from me to you! Now you have no choice but to knock their socks off!"

"How old are you, seven?" I grunted, trying to wedge an elbow between us. "You seriously need to gro-"

"Could Elsa please step onto the stage now?"

Both Lea and I froze for a split second. Fudge, I'd all but forgotten where I was and why I was here. Now it all came crashing back to me.

Ka-thunk.

What was that, you might be wondering? Oh nothing really. Just the sound of my heart plummeting to the bottom of my gut.

Before I'd even realized what I was doing, I'd sprung up onto my feet and was walking briskly towards the center aisle with all the grace and dignity I could muster. As if I couldn't still feel Lea's slobber drying on my cheek. Good luck charm, indeed. I'd show him good luck!

...that hadn't come across sounding as threatening as I would have liked.

It took a few seconds for it to really sink in. What I was doing. Where I was going. What I was about to do. I was about to audition… to sing in front of all of these people. I had to remind myself that this was something that I really, truly wanted. It was hard to remember right now in this exact second, but the desire was still there. Way deep, deep down inside of me, there was still that tiny spark valiantly burning away, smothered and small though it may be at the moment.

As each step brought me closer to that stage, I felt it again. That chilly dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. The iciness seemed to spread outward and I slowly grew numb. My mind started to feel detached and far away from the rest of my body, like I was no longer in control of it. Instead, it was more like I was only a passenger as it kept moving me forward seemingly of its own accord now, taking me up those stairs leading to my doom. That's right, my doom. I wasn't being over dramatic here at all. Not one bit.

Conceal, don't feel.

As I started crossing the stage, I was hardly even aware of Ariel out of the corner of my eye, whispering something to Marluxia before he gave a curt nod and she was scrambling up those steps after me. My ankle boots against the hardwood echoed loudly throughout the quiet theater. Too loudly, it felt like. But it paled in comparison to the thundering of my heart - oh gosh, could everyone else hear it too?

Conceal, don't feel.

All too soon, I was reaching the pianist and offering him the (rather abused at this point) sheet music with a shaky hand. He took it, looking it over briefly before setting it down on the music rack and smiling, "Just give me a nod when you're ready."

Ariel popped up then, plonking down onto the bench beside him with a grin. "I'll just sit with Demyx here and jump in for the parts you need me. Don't worry, you'll do great!"

My mouth tightened into a crude approximation of a smile before I turned to face the audience.

Big mistake.

Jeez, were there more people out there now? I could swear there were more people. Somehow, I willed my feet to move me closer to the front and center of the performance area. My fingers were running along my braid nonstop, up and down, up and down. My breathing had become so rapid and shallow. It felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen into my lungs. Could the air be thinner here on stage? You know, all the way up at this higher altitude of a whopping five feet?

Conceal, don't feel.

My eyes darted from face to unfamiliar face, not sure where to look. At the director maybe? That'd make sense, right? He'd be the one to decide my fate here, after all. I glanced down at Marluxia. At that blonde chick next to him - maybe she was his assistant director? Did community theater even have an assistant director? Well I suppose it would just depend on- focus, Elsa, focus! I squeezed my eyes shut with a grimace before opening them back up, looking to that pair once more. By their expressions, they both already seemed so remarkably unimpressed by me and I hadn't even begun yet. No, staring at them would only rattle me more.

I gripped at my braid more tightly and my gaze shifted about once more, almost desperate now, searching for what, I wasn't quite sure. But at last I seemed to find it - a face I knew. Lea's face. There, suddenly, like a beacon in the crowd. I wasn't quite sure how I'd not seen him until now. When our eyes met, he merely bobbed his head slightly and smiled at me. So small, so simple. And yet it filled me with such warmth and encouragement.

Lea thought I was brave.

And maybe, just for this one moment, I could pretend to be.

I inhaled deeply, my breath a raspy hiss through my nose. Holding it in for a couple seconds, I then puffed it out softly, releasing my braid and letting my hands fall to my sides. Finally, I gave Demyx a stiff nod over my shoulder.

Welp. This was it. No turning back now.

It was probably only a second, maybe two, but it felt like an eternity before that first piano note sounded. When at last it did, I swear it practically gave me a heart attack and my knees almost buckled. But I steadied myself, my clammy hands smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles out of my dress as I let the tune wash over me, trying to find solace in its familiarity. I kept my eyes fixed on Lea. Anywhere else and I knew I would lose my nerve completely. I could hear it coming in the music. My cue to start singing. I sucked in a breath.

"Every inch of me is trembling," oh gosh, that had never been more true than it was in this very moment, "but not from the cold. Something is familiar like a dream I can reach but not quite hold." Was I too quiet? Pretty sure I was too quiet. Licking my dry lips, I pushed my quavering voice to be louder, "I can sense you there like a friend I've always known... I'm arriving and it feels like I am hom-" I choked, my tongue stumbling over the word. My pulse flatlined, my blood turned to ice in my veins, and every atom in me was screaming at me to run, run, run.

But I resisted. I don't know how, but I did. Maybe it was Lea's reassuring gaze still holding mine. Maybe it was that spark deep down inside, flaring up obstinately to fight back against the cold fear closing in around my heart. Whatever it was, I remained rooted to the spot, clenching and unclenching my hands and eyes hard.

"I have always been a fortress," my heart hammered in my ears as I stubbornly pushed on, pretending I hadn't made a mistake, "cold secrets deep inside. You have secrets too, but you don't have to hide." Lea folded his arms atop the back of the chair in front of him, bending forward to rest his chin atop them and looking quite content. Feeling emboldened, I went into the chorus, "Show yourself, I'm dying to meet you. Show yourself, it's your turn." I think my voice was getting stronger. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking. "Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life? Show yourself, I'm ready to learn... Ah-ah, ah-ah!" I rang out the last bit and I heard Ariel's voice echo an answering call behind me.

"I've never felt so certain, all my life I've been torn," some of my tension was beginning to melt away and I took a tiny step forward. "But I'm here for a reason, could it be the reason I was born?" I could feel something bubbling up inside my chest… giddiness, maybe? "I have always been so different, normal rules did not apply. Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?" A smile was beginning to find its way onto my face. I couldn't believe it. A small, but actual, genuine smile of pure joy.

"Show yourself, I'm no longer trembling!" I burst out suddenly, almost triumphantly. Lea was lifting his head back up, face slack, eyes round. I had no idea what that meant. Was it a good reaction? A bad one? Either way, I was spurred on to do better. "Here I am, I've come so far! You are the answer I've waited for all of my life! Oh, show yourself, let me see who you are!" I wasn't even looking at him anymore. I was starting to forget about where I was, just getting lost in the was the only thing that mattered to me anymore in that moment.

I brought my voice back down, singing slowly, sweetly, "Come to me now, open your door, don't make me wait one moment more... Oh, come to me now," I repeated the line with more energy, "open your door, don't make me wait one moment more!"

"Where the north wind meets the sea," Ariel chimed in now and I took the moment to close my eyes, pulling in a big breath and reveling in the delightful tingle in my chest. I was entering the home stretch and there was no fear left. Only excitement. "There's a river full of memory... Come, my darling, homeward bound…"

"I am found!" I sang, putting all I had into it, letting the last word stretch and ring throughout the theater. "Show yourself, step into the power! Grow yourself into something new!"

Ariel came in one last time, "You are the one you've been waiting for…"

"All of my life!" I belted out, finishing the line she'd started. "Oh, show yourself! Ah-ah, ah-ah!" I vocalized the notes a few more times, each round louder and more confident than the last before finally ending the song in one long crescendo.

The auditorium was suddenly very quiet except for my low panting as I tried to catch my breath.

Then I heard it.

The sound of clapping. More specifically, of one single person clapping very enthusiastically, reverberating noisily around the otherwise dead silent room.

Feeling my face erupt in heat, I immediately buried it in my hands. I knew who it was, even before I parted my fingers to peek between them out into the audience. Yup. There he was. Lea, up on his feet to give me a standing ovation while everyone else remained seated, staring at him blankly.

The dork.

Ariel was at my side now, snickering as she muttered behind her hand to me, "This is why they normally don't let the boyfriends in to watch."

He didn't look like he planned on quitting any time soon either.

"Hsst!" I blew through my grit teeth at him discreetly. Well… as discreetly as I could, given I was still standing on a stage in front of a room full of people. "Stop it," I whispered, narrowing my eyes on him. I could see Jack making long, annoyed strides towards Lea. "You hear me? Stop. It."

He seemed to take 'stop it' to mean 'applaud harder and pepper it with a few shrill whistles for good measure.'

I sighed, hanging my head and pressing my fingers between my eyebrows.

"D'aw, I think it's cute," I heard Ariel laugh and I hazarded a glance up again. Lea, finally spotting Jack coming for him, had vaulted himself over some chairs into the next row and was trying to make a run for it. "Your boyfriend is your biggest fan."

"...yes," I rubbed a curled finger over my lips, eyes crinkling as I watched the little scene he was making. Sally had been waiting for him on the other end of the seats opposite of Jack. Realizing his mistake too late, she snagged him by the ear before he could backtrack and started dragging him out of the auditorium. "Yes, I suppose he is."

I still had to sing my second song, the one from Wicked itself. That one ended up being a lot less nerve-wracking. Don't get me wrong, a few jitters yet remained to wriggle about my insides, but I was still riding the endorphin high from getting through my first song, making the second one seem like a breeze in comparison. When I was done, the only acknowledgement I got from Marluxia was an impassive, "Thank you," before he was calling the next person. I hurried off the stage and had a quick word with Jack and Sally before saying my farewell and walking outside.

The sun was beginning to set by now, making the shadows stretch long. It wasn't hard to spot Lea, leaning against his car as he thumbed through his phone and waited.

My heart swelled and my feet suddenly had a mind of their own, propelling me forward.

He glanced up, pocketing his phone and grinning big at me as he used his foot to push himself up off the car. "Hey! You kicked some serious ass up th-" A surprised grunt was forced out of him as I suddenly crashed into his chest, hugging him tightly around the waist.

"...thank you for that," I muffled quietly into his shirt.

Lea was very still for a second. But then I felt a small chuckle rumbling throughout his body as his arms slowly wrapped around my shoulders, returning the embrace. "Nah, that was all you, El. I just provided the wheels that got ya here."

I loosened my grip but didn't fully let go. Just enough so I could lean back slightly to smile up at him. "Thanks for coming with me. I didn't think I'd wanted anyone here, but… it made a difference and meant more to me than I realized it would. And thank you for encouraging me to do this and…" my nose wrinkled a bit, "...and for making me get up on that karaoke stage a couple weeks ago, despite my multiple protests."

He snorted, but his face softened as he brushed some of my hair behind my ear, his thumb just barely grazing along my cheek with the gesture. "What can I say? Being a pushy, overbearing asshole is one of my many wonderful talents."

"That's not what I meant," my eyelids drooped.

"I know," he hummed a laugh as he pulled me in for another hug, squeezing me close as he rested his chin atop my head. We stayed that way for a few seconds more before he released a heavy sigh. Then he pulled back, cupped my face with both his hands, tenderly pressed his lips to my forehead, and...

...blew a goddamn raspberry.

I gasped and shoved him away, furiously scrubbing at my brow with my forearm. "Ugh, was getting more of your slobber on my face completely necessary?!"

"Oh without a doubt! I know what a huge fan of it ya are," he smirked cheekily as he made his way around his car to open the door for me. "Now then, shall we get you home, m'lady, so we can spread the good news?"

I squinted at him with a frown as I followed him over and took a seat. "...what good news?"

"That ya got the starring role, of course!" he chirped down at me.

"I did not-" I was interrupted as he shut the car door in my face. Huffing and buckling myself in, I waited until he was climbing into the driver seat to try again, "They won't even be announcing who's getting what part until next week, but I seriously doubt they're going to give me a lead."

"You're right, my mistake," he stuck his key into the ignition and twisted it, shooting me a wink. "They'll give ya two."

"Goodness, I'm getting two leads now?" I fought the upward tug I felt at one side of my mouth. "Do you even know how plays work?"

"Course! That's why I know for a fact that they're just gonna give you all the parts."

I bit back a grin. "Huh. A one-woman Wicked show. Now that'd certainly be a… choice."

"And one I have every confidence in you to pull off!" he nodded chipperly as we exited the parking lot.

I just shook my head at him. Honestly, I didn't care what part I got. I'd be honored just to be included in the chorus if they even gave me that much. But no, all that I really cared about was that I'd actually done it. Gone through with the audition and lived to tell the tale. And sure, it had scared me out of my mind, but in the end it'd been worth it. Because you know what? Turned out I'd absolutely loved singing on that stage. And I knew for sure now that this was something I wanted to do… something that I wanted to play a part in my life, no matter how big or small. And so what if I most likely wasn't going to get the lead this time around? I could just use this experience to learn the ropes and get better prepared.

Better prepared, that is, to totally crush it at the audition for the next show.

Author's Note: And yet another scene where I included the full lyrics of a song sang by a character - again, it's not something I would normally do, but I felt this was a rare occasion where it's important enough to Elsa's character growth that again I shouldn't just gloss over it. But gosh, I feel so awkward writing detailed singing scenes! Why oh why did I have to make her want to do something with singing? This was a story decision I fast grew to regret, haha xD I hope it turned out okay tho! Anyhoo, for anyone out there who hasn't seen Frozen 2, the song she sings this chapter, Show Yourself, is from that - I suggest you give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :) Actually hearing it does it way more justice than I could ever do in writing xD And I've decided that Disney movies still exist in this AU, they're just musicals now and the characters in those musicals most likely just all have different names than their Disney movie counterparts, but the plot is otherwise unaffected xP Fun fact: The ice cream this chapter, Ever After, is named after Corona's keyblade and I imagine its description on the menu would look something like: "Let down your golden lemon soft serve! A specialty from Corona, this treat is garnished with edible flowers and served in a stack of purple waffles cones to form a tower."

So, did Elsa manage to impress the powers that be at the audition? Will she make the cut and land a part the musical? Will she get a lead, a bit part, or the boot? WAS Lea's slobber actually lucky enough to tip the scales in her favor? Find out… NOT next chapter xD No, we have something else on the horizon for next time… could that fated yet dreaded weekend with the folks finally and at long last be upon us? Stay tuned to find out!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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#kingdom hearts #frozen #elsa #axel #fanfiction #lea #fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #frozen fanfiction #kh fanfiction #kh fanfic #frozen fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfic #axelsa #fluff #romcom #slow burn #kh3 #my writing #ice cream and fire oven pizza #rare pair #crossover pairing #humor #snark #fake dating au

[spoookymuulders]

you make my heart beat like the rain

read it on ao3 here total word count: 11,187 chapter word count: 4,120 warnings: none

chapter three. and all of these moments just might find their way into my dreams tonight. in which abigail williams spills her coffee.

The first time Penelope Garcia walked into May Castillo’s shop, May was sure she was lost. After all, why would someone who dressed like a walking, talking rainbow come into the local new age shop? But Penelope had puttered around for a while before selecting a few crystals and bringing them to the counter with a big, broad smile, and now, May finds herself hoping that it’s Penelope coming in every time the door to the shop opens.

It usually is.

Today is no different. May is sitting at the counter, flipping through a book slowly when the door opens and she spies the tell-tale bright pink of Penelope’s favorite pair of heels. 

“Morning, Penelope.” She calls. Penelope pokes her head around a book display, smiling sweetly, and May feels her heart jump. 

“Hi!” Penelope says brightly. She comes to the counter and sets a paper cup on the table, grinning. “I got you a coffee.” May blinks twice, looking between Penelope and the coffee for a moment. 

“Why?” She asks finally. The smile on Penelope’s face falters for half a second, but May notices and grabs the coffee, taking a sip - it’s perfect, just the way she likes it. 

“I remembered you saying the other day that your coffee machine at home broke, so I thought I’d treat you to some.” Penelope tells her. May watches her for another moment, then smiles, reaching over and squeezing Penelope’s hand lightly.

“Thanks, Pen.” She says gently. Penelope’s smile is back full force now as she beams at May, and May takes a moment to consider how different they truly are. Penelope’s dress today is a deep blue with flowers printed all over it. She wears a bright pink cardigan over top of it to match her bright pink heels, and her hair is done up in big curls. 

May, however, lands on the opposite end of the spectrum. While Penelope is all bright colors and fun patterns, May is much more comfortable in Earth tones - today, for instance, she’s opted for a pair of sienna-colored skinny jeans and an ivory sweater. And Penelope’s heels add a solid five inches to her height, while May’s deep brown flats do nothing for hers. 

How exactly they ended up becoming such close friends, May isn’t sure. And she’s not sure she’ll ever really know, but she’s okay with that. If she had to say, she’d tell you it’s probably just because Penelope has such a loud personality, and they balance each other out. The very first time she’d come into the shop, Penelope had ended up inviting May over for a girls night with herself and her friends JJ and Emily five minutes in. And May wasn’t exactly new in town - she’d been living there for about four years at the time - but she didn’t exactly have many friends, either, so she’d taken the blonde up on the offer.

And she’d found herself with three new friends and a recurring girls night every Friday. Eventually, Penelope had involved a few of the other girls in town - Abby (who worked with her at the animal sanctuary), Callie (the nurse at Callahan Elementary and Abby’s twin sister), and Ellie (who ran the diner).

“Did you hear there’s a new girl in town?” Penelope asks, leaning against the counter and bringing May back to the present. May chuckles, nodding - Penelope is always the best source for gossip, and May’s fairly certain that she knows the gossip about certain people before they even know they’re being gossipped about.

“I saw her walk by yesterday.” May hums, sipping at her coffee. “I think Abby said she’s staying over at Haley’s. I was thinking about bringing her some muffins or something.”

“Oh my gosh, we should totally bake her something!” Penelope gasps, and May admires the way her entire face lights up at the very idea of it. “We could ask Kristy for help, too! May, that would be so fun!”  May laughs softly, nodding.

“Alright, let’s get together and bake her something, then.” She chuckles. Penelope squeals and claps lightly, then glances at her watch. 

“I gotta go, but I’ll text you about baking! We’ll make a whole girls night of it!” She says, waving as she scurries away. May watches her go, shaking her head fondly as her heels click-click-click out of the shop, then sighs slowly. She shakes herself a little, forcing herself out of her daydreams, and busies herself with rearranging the items on the counter.

****

If there’s one thing Abigail Williams hates, it’s being late. To anything, really, but especially to work. The line at the coffee shop didn’t seem to care this morning, however, and she rushes into the animal sanctuary five minutes late, immeasurably grateful that Penelope doesn’t actually care all that much if she’s late as long as she shows up.

“I’m here, Pen!” She shouts, hurrying around the counter and setting the coffees down. She tugs off her coat and hangs it up before flopping into her chair, spinning it back towards the desk as she settles. “I come bearing coffee!” The familiar clicking of Penelope’s heels announces her arrival and Abby looks up with a sheepish smile as her boss and best friend emerges from the back hall. She holds up Penelope’s coffee and the blonde grins at her, leaning down to peck her cheek lightly.

“Emily’s supposed to come by today with some new designs for the wall mural.” Penelope says, leaning on the counter. “Other than that, we don’t have a whole lot going on today.” Abby nods, sipping at her own coffee and humming - maybe she’ll actually get to meet the elusive Emily Prentiss today. Every time she’s gone to a girls night, Emily’s had to reschedule for some reason or another and Abby’s started to wonder if she actually exists. After a moment, she looks up at Penelope and squints.

“You saw May this morning, didn’t you?” She asks. Penelope gapes at her, sputtering for a moment.

“How do you always know?” Penelope whines, and Abby laughs quietly.

“You get this goofy smile whenever you go see her, Pen.” The brunette says, “It’s so painfully obvious how much you like her.”

“Do you think she knows?” Penelope asks anxiously. Abby shakes her head. 

“Nah. I think she’s totally clueless, honestly. But you should ask her out!” She says. 

“Oh, no. No no no, I couldn’t do that.” Penelope says quickly, shaking her head. “Nope. If I ask her out and she doesn’t feel the same way that ruins everything, Ab!” Before either of them can say anything else, the buzzer at the back door sounds and they jump a little.

“That must be the shipment of the new dog food for Mrs. Carson.” Abby says as a car pulls up to the curb. She hops up and grabs her coffee, waving a hand. “You do this, I’ll go deal with the delivery.” And with that, she scurries to the back door as the buzzer sounds again, her pale pink skirt flouncing around her knees as she goes. The bell above the door jingles brightly as Emily slips inside and grins at Penelope. 

“What’s up, PG?” She asks, hugging Penelope lightly. She steps back and sets a folder on the counter, flipping it open and laying out a few images she’s drawn up on her iPad over the past week or so. The two get so wrapped up in talking about and planning the mural that neither of them notices Abby’s reappearance until the door into the back hall closes and they both turn around.

As soon as Abby lays eyes on Emily, she drops her coffee. As it splashes against her shins, she thanks whatever higher power there is that she’d decided to go with an iced coffee instead of a hot today. But looking at Emily Prentiss, who could blame her for losing her grip on everything? Because Emily Prentiss, with her dark hair and dark eyes and fair skin and sweet smile, is the most beautiful woman Abby’s ever seen.

She squeaks, the chill of the coffee jerking her back to reality and she rushes to grab the paper towels from the desk. As she starts wiping up the coffee, a pair of black boots steps into her vision and she looks up, cheeks burning hotter than the sun. Emily is crouched in front of her, helping to wipe up the coffee and handing her the now-empty cup with a gentle smile.

“Hi.” Emily says.

“Hi.” Abby returns softly. They stand and Abby hurries to toss the paper towels into the trash before drying her hands with another one quickly. Emily approaches and holds out a hand, one which Abby takes and shakes lightly. Penelope watches the interaction with narrowed eyes.

“I’m Emily. You must be Abby?” 

Abby nods, clearing her throat. “It’s nice to meet you finally.” She says. Emily grins and nods.

“You too.” She says warmly. “Penelope talks about you all the time, I’m sorry we haven’t gotten to meet sooner.” Abby nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear absently. “I was almost starting to think you didn’t exist.”

Abby blinks at that, then smiles. “I was starting to think the same about you.” She says, and when she giggles, Emily’s heart flutters. Emily’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she digs it out, huffing quietly.

“I’ve gotta go, Pen, but look over those designs and text me!” She says. As she leaves, she glances over her shoulder and gives Abby one last smile. “Nice to meet you.” She says. Abby nods, watching her go. As soon as she’s out the door, Abby sighs softly and puts her hands to her cheeks.

“You never said she was gorgeous.” She says dreamily. Penelope laughs brightly and guides Abby back towards her chair behind the desk. “Seriously, Pen, in all the times you’ve mentioned her, you never told me how pretty she is.” Abby flops into her chair and puts her chin in her hand, watching as Emily’s car pulls away from the curb. Chuckling quietly, Penelope pats Abby’s shoulder gently. 

“Now who’s got the crush?” She teases gently, laughing and hurrying away when Abby turns and throws a pompom decoration at her.

****

Zoe is slowly starting to learn her way around town - granted, she’s only been here for two-and-a-half weeks, but she’s figuring it out. She’s still on the hunt for an apartment of her own and she’s slowly warming up to the people she’s met. Luke and Hotch were easy to warm up to; Luke because he’s like the human embodiment of a golden retriever, Hotch because he reminds Zoe of her favorite uncle. JJ had introduced Zoe to a bunch of her friends at a girls night her first weekend in town, and she’d opened up to them almost immediately - her walls are still up, naturally, but it’s easier to warm up and let herself be a little more vulnerable around other women.

And then there’s Spencer Reid.

She can’t quite figure Spencer out. When JJ had first told Zoe about him, she’d said he was like a gentle giant, and from what Zoe’s seen so far, that’s accurate. Spencer is six-foot-one and looks like he weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet, and she’s kind of terrified of him. But the kindness in his eyes and the warm smiles he gives her every time they see each other out around town are slowly pulling her out of her shell around him. Which is good, she supposes, considering JJ is her best friend and Spencer seems to hang around JJ more than anyone else.

Speak of the devil. As she parks outside the general store and climbs out, a familiar-sounding truck parks two spots down and Spencer climbs out, smiling and waving when he sees her. She waves back and heads for the front door, glancing to the side when Spencer jogs over and falls into step beside her.

“Hi.” He says, grinning down at her. She glances up and offers a small smile of her own.

“Hi.” She returns, pausing just inside the door to grab a basket. Spencer does the same, keeping pace beside Zoe easily. “Are you just gonna follow me around the store?” She asks, her tone teasing, glancing at him over her shoulder as he pauses to grab a box of cereal. Spencer chuckles, shrugging.

“Maybe I just so happen to need things from the same aisles as you.” He says. Zoe smiles a little, shaking her head, but she doesn’t say anything else. “Any luck finding an apartment?”

“Not yet.” Zoe sighs, rubbing her cheek with her good hand as they wander. “JJ and Penelope are gonna help me look this weekend. Penelope said she thinks there’s one opening up in her building.” Spencer hums.

“You could always ask Morgan.” He tells her. When she glances up at him with a furrowed brow, he points towards the front of the shop, where Morgan is standing and chattering with Krystall, both of them laughing brightly. “He fixes up houses and rents them out, I think one of them has apartments in it.” Zoe nods thoughtfully, making a mental note of that.

“How are things on the ranch?” She asks, pausing to grab a box of pasta. She pushes onto her toes in an attempt to reach a jar of pasta sauce, settling back down when Spencer leans over her and snags it. She takes it from him with a soft thank you. 

“Pretty good. Penelope’s trying really hard to get me to host a party or something after Halloween.” He hums. Zoe laughs softly, nodding - that sounds about right for Penelope Garcia. “But I’m already hosting Thanksgiving, I don’t know if I could plan something else.”

“Have Penelope plan it.” Zoe says simply, shrugging lightly. Spencer chuckles, nodding. 

“There’s an idea.” He muses. “I’ll think about that.” They continue their impromptu mutual shopping trip, chattering lightly about everything and nothing, and Zoe finds herself relaxing more and more as they talk. When they’re both finished, they make their way to the checkout lanes and unload their baskets. As the kid at the register is scanning Zoe’s groceries, Spencer calls Morgan over.

“Hey kid.” Morgan says with a grin, clapping Spencer on the shoulder lightly. Spencer returns the greeting as Zoe glances over and digs her wallet out of her purse.

“Morgan, this is Zoe. Zoe, Derek Morgan.” Spencer says. Zoe nods and shakes Morgan’s hand lightly after she sticks her card into the machine. “Morgan, one of your houses has apartments in it, right?” 

“Yeah, the one on White Street. Why? That ranch of yours finally get to be too much?” Morgan teases. Spencer rolls his eyes with a smile.

“The ranch is fine. Zoe just moved to town and is looking for an apartment.” Spencer says. Morgan raises his brows and glances at Zoe, who nods, cheeks burning.

“How soon do you need it?” He asks. Zoe shrugs.

“I’m staying at the B&B right now.” She tells him softly. Morgan nods thoughtfully. 

“Well, one of the apartments in the White Street house is open. If you want it, it’s yours, sweetheart.” Morgan says. Zoe looks up at him and she can feel tears burning behind her eyes but she wills them back.

“Really?” She asks quietly. Morgan tips his head, frowning just so.

“Yeah. There’s no furniture in it, but it’s available.” He says gently. Zoe bites the inside of her lip hard and nods. 

“That - thank you.” She says. Morgan smiles gently now, nodding. Reaching over the conveyor belt, he snags a scrap of paper and scribbles his name and number on it, along with the address of the house. 

“Gimme a call later and I’ll get you the key so you can check it out.” He says. Zoe nods and takes the paper, gathering her bags and stepping aside as Morgan slips away. She watches him go, then follows Spencer out of the shop quietly. Tucking her bags into her trunk, she closes it and leans against the car for a moment, staring at the ground. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when Spencer’s shoes appear in her vision and she glances up to see him looking at her, frowning lightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. Zoe clears her throat quickly and nods.

“I wasn’t expecting to find an apartment today.” She says, hoping her voice sounds more confident than she feels. Spencer nods, watching her, not looking entirely convinced, but he drops it. 

“Well - hey, I have to drop my groceries off at home, but uh.. Do you want me to come with you? To look at the apartment?” He asks gently. Zoe bites her cheek and nods after a moment.

“That’d be good.” She says. Spencer smiles gently and nods. 

“I’ll come by the B&B in a couple hours.” He tells her. Zoe nods again, watching him go back to his truck, and climbs into the front seat of her little yellow punchbuggy. She exhales slowly and heads towards the B&B, managing to keep herself together until she gets to her room. As soon as the door is closed behind her, she sinks to the floor and leans against the bed and promptly bursts into tears.

She’s not sure how long she’s been sitting like that when a timid knock sounds at her door. She sniffles and wipes her cheeks quickly, then stands and clears her throat as she pads over to open the door. Jack stands on the other side, looking up at her with a frown on his little face.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Zoe feels a fresh wave of tears well in her eyes and she nods quickly. Before she can say anything, however, Jack throws his arms around her middle and hugs her tightly. Startled, she settles her arms around his shoulders and relaxes after a moment, exhaling unsteadily. Jack squeezes her waist and looks up at her, brown eyes warm and worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, buddy.” She says softly, brushing his hair back gently. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m just feeling.. A little overwhelmed.” 

“Why?” Jack asks quietly, frowning. Zoe sighs slowly, considering the best way to answer his question. She steps out of his embrace and pads over to the window, perching on the cushion there and patting the spot beside her. Jack climbs up and sits next to her, scooting as close as he can.

“For a long time, it seemed like.. Like only bad things were happening to me.” She tells him, brushing her good hand through his hair gently. He tucks himself into her side, frowning up at her. “And I was really sad for a long time. But since I moved here, I’ve made some friends and I’m feeling happy again. And it feels like good things are happening more and more often, and it just overwhelmed me.”

“I think that’s how daddy felt when we moved here.” Jack says thoughtfully. Zoe looks down at him and brushes his hair back, letting him sit with his thoughts for a moment before he continues. “He was really sad all the time. But we made lots of friends! And we talk to mommy sometimes at night. I think that helps.” Zoe smiles softly, nodding.

“How do you talk to her?” She asks.

“Daddy lights a candle before bed and we tell her about our day, and then we blow it out.” Jack tells her. Zoe nods, humming thoughtfully.

“That sounds nice.” She says softly, leaning down to kiss his hair gently. “I’m sure your mommy loves hearing from you like that.” Jack smiles up at her and hugs her again, and Zoe closes her eyes, settling her arms around the boy’s shoulders and resting her cheek to her hair.

If there’s one thing she’s learned in her years of teaching, it’s that there’s nothing quite like a hug from a child to help you feel better, no matter what the problem is. When her grandmother had passed and she’d taken a few days off to go to the funeral, she’d come back to a massive group hug from the kids she’d been student-teaching. When she’d been home sick with the flu and had finally come back, she’d gotten a huge hug from each of her students as they’d come in that morning. She rubs Jack’s back slowly, humming softly, and glances up when she hears footsteps outside the door.

Hotch is standing there, arms crossed, a small smile on his lips. Jack looks up and grins at his father, wiggling out of Zoe’s arms and running across the room. Hotch scoops him up and hugs him tightly for a moment.

“Zoe, Spencer’s here.” Hotch says, setting Jack back on the floor. Jack’s eyes light up and he scoots around Hotch’s legs, sprinting for the stairs and shouting for Spencer. Zoe nods and clears her throat.

“Do I look like a mess?” She asks. Hotch chuckles and shakes his head, picking up her sweater and holding it out. Zoe takes it and slips it on. 

“You look fine.” He promises gently. Zoe nods, fiddling with the hem of the sweater before looking up at Hotch again.

“He’s an amazing kid.” She says softly. Hotch glances towards the stairs as they slip out of Zoe’s room, smiling softly as Jack shouts something about Star Wars with Spencer. “You’ve done an incredible job with him.”

“I’ve had help.” Hotch says honestly. “It was hard when we first moved here, but we’ve made friends. A family.” Zoe nods again, glancing up as Hotch catches her arm gently at the top of the stairs. The moment of panic that bubbles in her chest is mitigated by the gentleness in Hotch’s eyes. 

“I want you to know that you can talk to me.” He says softly. Zoe watches him, brows furrowing just so as she contemplates his words. “About anything - good, bad, whatever’s going on. Like I said when you first got here, JJ didn’t tell me much about what was going on, just that it was an emergency, but if you need someone to talk to.. I’m here.”

Zoe feels tears burn behind her eyes for the third time this afternoon and she nods, offering a small smile. 

“Thank you.” She says softly. Hotch smiles gently and squeezes her shoulder lightly, and she follows him downstairs.

****

Zoe stands in the middle of the empty living room, turning around in a circle slowly. Morgan and Spencer watch her from the doorway, both with small smiles. Pushing away from the wall, Morgan joins Zoe in the middle of the room and puts his hands on his hips. 

“What d’you think?” He asks. Zoe looks up at him, her eyes bright, and when she smiles Spencer thinks it looks like the sun coming through the clouds on a rainy day. 

“It’s perfect.” She says softly. Morgan beams at her and squeezes her shoulder gently, then digs the key out of his pocket and holds it out.

“It’s all yours, sweetheart.” He says. Zoe takes the key slowly and stares up at Morgan for a long moment before she throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly. He laughs softly, surprised at the contact, and returns the hug, patting her back gently. He squeezes her shoulders again when she steps back.

“Thank you so much.” Zoe says. Morgan smiles warmly and nods.

“Don’t mention it. And if you need anything at all, my number’s on the fridge.” He tells her. Zoe nods and watches Morgan go, exhaling and looking around the living room again before her eyes land on Spencer, who grins at her.

“Welcome home.” He says. Zoe smiles again and Spencer feels his heart flip-flop within his ribs. 

“Thank you for coming with me.” She says. Spencer nods, moving to stand beside her and looking around the room slowly. “Now I just gotta find furniture - I hate moving.” Spencer laughs softly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, lucky for you, you know someone with a truck and who knows all the best antique stores in a fifty-mile radius. Plus there’s a Walmart in Freeport if you need it.” He says. Zoe laughs quietly and smiles up at Spencer again, biting her lip for a moment as she considers her next question carefully. Spencer begins to meander around the perimeter of the room, peeking out the windows curiously.

“Hey.” She says, crossing her arms as he turns around, brows raised. “Maybe you could take me on that tour of the town you promised?”

Spencer blinks once, then smiles softly.

“I’d love to.”

#mine* #tiny town au #au: electric love #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #emily prentiss x oc #penelope garcia x oc #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[bohemiansweede]

Baby it's cold outside

Fanfic

Pairing Roger Taylor Brian May Maylor

Warnings Smut 🔞

A /N Brians POV

Please like and reblog or if you want leave a comment

Thank you

~~~~~~🎄 ~~~~~~

It had start to snow like crazy now and we were not even half way home

The two of us had been Christmas shopping for our wifes and kids all day and Roger gaved me a ride home

- Fuckin shit... Cannot see a damn thing here, Roger shouted and tried to remove the snow with the windshield wipers

- Yeah.. Your eyesight is really not the best Rog, I scoffed

- Honestly Bri..

He started to get even more frustrated and the car slid on the road

- Roger.. Take it easy.. do not drive so fast in this weather.. I patted on his knee and his eyes trailed for a breaf second from the road

- You want me to take over?

- You? Driving MY car? No no no... No way..

It was a real blizzard outside now and on top of that it was soon dark

- C'mon Roger.. It is dangerous o..

I could not end the sentence until we were of the road, Roger tried to manouver it, but it was too late, the car stopped just on the side of a big tree

- Oh shit.. Damn it.. I took my palm over your forehead. It was a slight bleading

- Brian, are you ok?

- Y.. Yes.. I am fine.. Just a little scratch..

- Ohh fuck. M so sorry mate.. I..

- It is ok Rog.. Really... But we gotta stop driving .. It might calm down soon tho

I looked outside.. It was hard to see but..

- Hey, look, it is a big house over there they might have a phone.. I have 0% battery

- Even if you had charged it Bri, there is no connection out here.. Damn it.. Sarina is very impatient.. She has to know my every move..

- Anitha is on her theater rehersal so.. I guess she is prob not missing me.. Hey.. Let us check that house out ok?

We went out in the snowstorm and i almost slipped on the pathroad up to the big house

- Wow.. We are lucky Rog.. It is a little hotel

We opened the big door and went inside

The lobby was warm, cozy and fully christmas decorated 

- Good evening gentlemen. How may I help you

- Evening mam, we wonder if we could use your phone?

-I am so sorry Sir the landline is out due to the weather conditions

- Ohh fuckin dammit ... Perfect

- Relax Rog.. Have you heard the forecasts mam?

- They think this will go on all night.. Neither of us can get home either, we all have to stay here..

It smelled delicious from the restaurant and it was warm.. cozy..

- Guess we have no choice but to stay here Rog.

Roger rolled his eyes

- Let's see. We have 1..double left

- What do you say? Roger?. Sorry.. He is a little upset.. Yes we take it. Thank you mam

While I did all booking and got the key, Roger had already left to the bar

He sat alone on a stol swirled his glass and stared blank in front of himself

- Do you want to eat anything Rog?... or are you just drinking now?

- It is just so fuckin typical.. We had a huge fight yesterday.. One of many lately. Thought I was suppose to get home and fix it.. Instead I end up here in the middle of fuckin nowhere.

-.. With me...

- Oh Brian.. Sorry.. His eyes trailed on you while taken down his scotch.. Don't get me wrong but..

- I get it.. We are not suppose to be here.. but there is nothing we can do right now so... Just let us grab a meal and go to bed ahlright

He smirked a little, nodded, placed his empty glass on the bar and got up

The restaurant was pretty crowded But we managed to get a table little off side

- Mmmmm.. The salmon looks good. What are you havin?

- Not hungry

- C'mon.. You WILL be if you not..

- Yes Daddy..

It suddenly became awkward and quiet while he looked on the menu

I sipped on my guiniess and Roger ordered both yet an other scotch and a bottle of wine

His juicy steak looked amazingly good and I almost regreted to be that strict about food

- Looks good Rog..

- Yes it was really really great..

- Sooo... You are feeling better now?

Roger tapped with nervous fingers on the table..

- Well... Not entirely until I can speak to her..

- I understand, you two really love eachother right?

He did not answer.. Instead he waived to the waitress to come over with the bill

- So with that I asume you not wanting anything else?

He just shooked his head

On the way out from the restaurant he passed the bar

- You want one Brian? I can get really drunk now and regret it tomorrow..

Your head spun really fast

- Sure.. I can have... Well.. one more.. I want to think clear, but you knew you couldn’t

I grabbed my glasses and brought them to the open fireplace

We both sat down in the sofa and stared into the fire

- Bri.. I am sorry for being so grumpy.. I am just worried I guess

When Roger drank a lot he was very emotional.. anger, happiness, frustration, sadess,... guilt..

He had been my best friend for long over 40 years now and I knew him inside and out

I almost knew him more than I knew my own feelings.. With other words, I was honest to him, but not to myself

- Yes I know Rog.. But as I said.. there is not that much we can do.... the weather..

- Actually.. There is a lot we can do.

Our eyes locked and we both knew...

He placed his empty glass on the table in front of me, standing up from the couth, I emptied mine quickly

Without a single word we walked upstairs to our room, he fibbled with the room key and he muttered something about not being that drunk

He threw his jacket on the floor and tossed his shoes off, I unbottoned my shirt while looking at him doing the same

We both unbuckled our belts and the pants fell to the floor

I stod on the middle of the floor in just my underwear

Our bodies had changed over the years but I never lost my feeling about how good he looked, his hair was grey now but his eyes were soo big blue as ever and now I could see him looking at me up and down

We slowly walked towards eachother

It was silent, I just heard my own heart pounding in my chest

- I want to kiss you Brian May, Roger claimed, almost in a whisper. My eyes widened.. but don’t be mistaken…. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the very first time I met you, he carried on.. In fact, I….

I cupped his beautiful face in my hands and kissed him.. Just a little kiss.. I backed out a little from him 

- Rog.. I.. I want this soooo bad I've alw..

Our lips crashed together with a loud moan his big hands trailed up along my back and in my unruly hair

Both our tounges wrestled together and I phanted in his mouth, he let out a little whine

With a struggle my lips left his, instead i kissed down his neck his collarbone.. Kissed the tiny little birth mark he had there, they continued to wander down his chest and down his belly, it was warm and soft like i always had imagined

I placed my hand on his bulge, mouth was watering, he helped me take his boxers off and his leaking cock sprung free

Not waisting any more time i quickly grabbed it in my hand and begun to pump him

I licked the tip with an eager tounge.. Roger growled and almost lost his balance of the feeling he had been hiding for so long.

My tounge licked his prominent vein and soon I finally closed my lips around him, almost swollowed him whole

- Shit... Shit.. Shit Br.. Brian

He whimpered and his eyes were wide and dark with lust

I bobbed my head faster and with tearing eyes I looked up on him, it was not long until his cock started to twitch

-OMFG.. Brian... I am ssso close..

I stopped and tried to stand up on my old legs

They weakened under me

- Lay down on the bed Brian... Let me take care of you

I managed to the bed and laid flat on my tummy

I felt him behind me , Roger kissed my neck and shoulders taking his big caloused palms caressing my ass

- I.. I have been thinkin about this so long... Cannot fuckin wait any longer..

I nodded and felt a lump in my throat... he felt the same

He wetened his finger by his own saliva and i felt his fingertip in my entrance

I whimpered and bucked my ass up at him, he started to stretch me out with his finger, slowly but soon i could not take it anymore

He grabbed my hips, lifting me up a little bit and placed a pillow underneath me

I could feel his cock slowly entering me and with a scream i took the other pillow trying to muffle myself

- Nno.. No Bri.. I wanna hear you

- F.. Fuck Roger.. biting my plump lip.. Oh shit... I.. Ahhh

His one hand grabbed the headboard and he thrusted faster and faster rubbing my prostate over and over again, my body was a trembeling mess and soon my tight hole maked him so close to the edge

Both of us screamed with lust and guilt

- Omg... Brian.. Shit.. I am coming.. Ahhh fuck..

Roger pulled out and just a brief second later I felt his warm cum all over my lower back

He was fast and grabbed my hips so I turned around, i felt totally helpless in his power

His mouth lowered down on me and he took my cock in his pretty mouth, started to bob his head fast, I grabbed his silver hair and bucked my hips up towards him

With a loud cry i came, it spilled over in his mouth and ran down his neck

He went out of bed and into the bathroom..

I looked outside, it had stopped to snow and my stomach burned with angst and guilt

Ok.. This was it.. Whatever it was. It was over.. It had to be

He returned to the bed, landed on his back next to me, wiped my back with the damp cloth

He looked at me and kissed my bruised forehead

- I love you Brian... Always have.. Always will...

He turned off his phone and layed back on my arm, our legs lingered together

This had changed everything

And I finally smiled to myself

~~~~~~🎄 ~~~~~~~

Enjoy more reading in my masterlist

Xmas fics

Updated

https://bohemiansweede.tumblr.com/post/638489349922635776/fanfic

#queen #queen band #queen smut #roger taylor smut #roger taylor #present roger taylor #brian may smut #brian may #maylor smut #maylor #Fanfic #Smut #christmas smut #christmas #roger taylor imagine #brian may imagine

[janaikam]

I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You - Kwami Swap

Whoops didn’t mean to miss yesterday! Time just got away from me!

This is Day 5 of @luxyweek

Part 4

Read on AO3

“Are you done yet?” the green thing asked.

XY had been screaming for maybe 10 minutes at this point, but he didn’t care. There was some floating green thing in his room, and it just talked to him. Omg it just talked. Instead of screaming this time XY started to hyperventilate and pace his room.

This was not happening. He just passed out after a long day. He was dreaming. He had to be.

“Deep breathsss,” the thing instructed, putting its paws on XY’s face.

He could feel the cool touch of the thing’s paw hand thing. The fact that XY could feel it told him that this was most definitely not a dream. In dreams you didn’t feel anything, and he was most definitely feeling things.

“My name is Sass. I am the kwami of intuition,” the thing bowed a little towards XY, which helped him calm down a little.

“Hold up green dude. What’s a mommy?” XY started, looking around the room for any cameras. This could all be some elaborate prank for one of those tv shows.

“Kwamiss are magical creaturess that give holderss magical powerss through their miraculousss. Mine iss the power of intuition,” Sassy explained calmly. “When you transsform I resside in the bracelet there.”

XY glanced down at the now light purple bracelet. “Why does it look girly?”

Sassy’s tail unfurled, and the kwami had an almost surprised look on his face. “Um, the miraculous dissguissess itsself to match the ussser. It looksss that way becausse on ssome unconssciouss level you want it to look like that.”

“I think it messed up. I’m not wearing this. It’s too girly.” XY huffed and held out the bracelet to Sassy. The kwami took it in his little paws, and it transformed into a blue-green bracelet with a snakehead in the middle.

“Woah, now that looks cool! I’d totally wear it if it looked like that.” XY took the bracelet out of Sassy’s paws, but the jewelry immediately turned back to its plain light purple color.

He frowned. “Why won’t it stay the same?”

“It’ss dissguissed that way sso people won’t recognize the sssnake miraculouss when itss holder iss detranssformed.”

“Well, I don’t want it then. You can hold on to it.” XY tossed it back to Sassy who scrambled to catch the piece of jewelry.

“In that casse, if you could just return me to Ladybug I’m ssure-”

“Did you say Ladybug?” XY interrupted. “Wait do you turn people into heroes?”

“Yesss...Oh my, I fear a misstake hass been made. I mussst immediately be returned to Ladybug.”

XY considered what the Salami said. If he could turn people into heroes, then he could turn XY into a hero. That would be so cool. He could help Ladybug defeat akumas and replace Chat Noir entirely. Album sales would go up once people realized he was an amazing hero. Even Luka would fall for him. He could see it now.

“How do I transform?” XY could barely contain his excitement as he bounced in front of the Safari.

“I’m not ssure that’ss besst. Bessidess, I’m famished. My last holder wass unable to feed me. So even if I told you how to trassform, it would not work.” Sassy’s floating took on a nervous nature, but XY ignored it.

There was something interesting about what Sassy said. But he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“If I gave you something to eat, would you tell me how to transform?” XY asked. He needed to get on this Kalamari’s good side otherwise he would never become the hero Paris needed.

“I ssuposse sso,” Sassy responded.

“Ballin’.”

--------

The fried chicken he ordered from room service was perfect for Sassy. When it arrived, he dived into the food, eating as much as he could.

In between bites of food, Sassy explained how his powers worked when XY was transformed. He informed XY that the bracelet would allow him to become a hero, and XY was debating putting on the girly looking bracelet.

He couldn’t help but wonder what else it could look like when he remembered how it looked when he first picked it up. It was a grey color, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him.

“Hey, this was silver before, why is it this girly purple color now?”

Sassy’s expression turned to one of fear at XY’s question.

“Different holderss have different lookss. The miraculouss musst’ve noticed that you did not intend to wield the ssnake, so it would have stayed like my previouss holderss until you intended to activate it.” Sassy looked concerned at XY’s face. If XY had to guess, Sassy was worried about how he would react knowing someone else had a cooler bracelet looking color.

“That doesn’t make sense because that Luka guy had this before, and it didn’t change for him.” XY waited for Sassy’s explanation, but when it didn’t come XY realized what it meant. “Wait a second. Luka was your previous holder, wasn’t he?”

Sassy nodded reluctantly in confirmation.

“Oh, this is too good. You gotta tell me how to transform now.”

------

XY wasn’t the biggest fan of his superhero look. For one, his suit had no capes. How were people supposed to know he was a hero if he didn’t have a cape? Plus the suit was dark green with no obvious symbol identifying who he was. Plus he had this weird green mini piano thing. He wasn’t sure the point of it, but it fit snugly at his waist.

Once he transformed, XY started running across the roofs of Paris to get used to the new powers that Sassy had given him. It was a really cool feeling and one he kind of hoped he would never get used to.

XY was headed straight towards the pirate ship that Luka lived on so he could show off his new look. He was certain that Luka would be amazed.

Landing on the deck of the boat was a tad bit difficult. There was a bunch of trash lying around, so when XY tried to land he ended up slipping on a ball and crashing into a drum set. The cymbals on the drum created a loud sound that was sure to have woken anyone right up.

Sure enough someone had woken up and was making their way up to the top of the ship.

XY scrambled to pull himself up into a hero pose, and he just managed to do it as Luka’s flashlight shone on him.

“I am Cash Money! The new protector of Paris!”

The light got brighter as it moved closer to XY, and he had to squint so the light didn’t blind him.

“XY!?” Luka exclaimed. “How? Why!? You need to detransform right now!”

XY pouted. “Aw, how did you know it was me?”

“For one, your name kinda gave it away, plus I’m pretty sure you stole my miraculous the other day.” Luka turned off the flashlight moving closer to XY. “At least you’re not Hawkmoth.”

“Hawkmoth is totally not cash money. I could never be him. I’m cash money 24/7,” XY proudly stated.

He paused for a second, wanting to detransform but realizing he had no idea how to.

“Uh, how do you detransform?” XY blushed, embarrassed that he needed to ask Luka for help.

“Say ‘Sass, scales rest’,” Luka instructed.

“Sassy, scales rest.” A bright flash of green flew over him, and XY was back in his normal everyday clothes.

“Now can I have my miraculous back?” Luka held out his hand patiently.

“Not so fast. I know your secret, so I need some kind of compensation for this.” XY took a step closer to Luka, but he hadn’t realized he was on some kind of stage so he fell forward.

“Woah!” Luka exclaimed, catching XY before he could hit the ground.

It was at that moment that the lights around the ship turned on, so XY could properly see Luka.

“Um. We’re home?” a soft voice questioned. XY looked past Luka to see the girl from the other day and another older woman.

Luka quickly let go of XY and turned towards the two women. XY glared at Luka. If XY had been anymore distracted he would’ve fallen flat on his face. It would’ve been a disaster for his public image.

“Oh, Luka, I didn’t know you were having a friend over! We’ll just get out of your hair, so you two can just carry on,” the colorful older woman said. She pushed the girl, Tools?, towards the bottom of the ship. “You boys have fun!”

XY wasn’t sure if it was just the lighting, but it almost looked like she winked towards them before disappearing under the ship.

Luka turned back towards XY a light blush on his face. “Sorry about that.” Luka coughed. “So, uh, what did you want?”

“What?” XY blinked in confusion. What would he want?

The weird encounter with who he assumed to be Luka’s mother had completely shut down his brain. Did she think they were a couple or something like that?

“To keep my secret,” Luka continued, waving his hand to his wrist.

“Your secret...right...uh what was that again?”

“Yeah, nice try. Just give me back my bracelet.” Luka reached out towards XY’s wrist, but the musician reacted faster, raising his hand above his head.

XY grinned. It was gonna be almost impossible for Luka to grab the bracelet since XY was a few inches taller than him.

Luka tried jumping up to grab ahold of the bracelet, but XY kept his arm further away so Luka couldn’t reach it.

“Ah, ah, ah.” XY wagged his finger in front of Luka. “In order to get this bracelet, I’m gonna need a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Luka stopped his attempts and stared at XY. “That is the last thing I expected to come out of your mouth.”

“A kiss on the cheek and you can have your little bracelet back.” XY patted his cheek and turned it towards Luka.

He couldn’t see Luka’s face but based on the sigh of reluctance he heard, XY knew he was gonna do it. After a couple of moments without feeling anything, XY turned to ask Luka what was taking so long, only to have his lips meet with Luka’s.

#luxyweek2k20 #luxy #luka #xy #my fic #my writing #i cant help falling in love with you #kwami swap

[aliciameade]

Head-First - Ch. 3

Title: Head-First Author: aliciameade Rating: M Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: They’re lifeguards.

Also on AO3 & FFN

Beca’s filled with nervous energy on her way to work the next day. She wants to see Chloe again, but she also hopes nothing is awkward or weird between them. She’s never had any type of a “thing” with a coworker before and she’s not certain what the interaction protocol is.

It’s unclear if it’s a blessing or a curse that Stacie has a shift today, too, and that they’re arriving at the station together. On one hand, Stacie will have her back. On the other hand, Stacie will have her back.

She’ll either have a lifeline if things are weird or someone to help make things weird.

As Beca had feared (eagerly anticipated?), Chloe’s at her locker when they walk in and Stacie elbows Beca in the ribs.

Beca returns the favor and breathes a sigh of relief when Stacie doesn’t do or say anything else upon their arrival. She goes to her locker and begins changing as though she’s none the wiser to what transpired between her two coworkers last night.

“Hey,” Beca says when she’s close enough.

Chloe’s already finished changing into her suit and for that, Beca is grateful. “Good morning,” she says with a bright smile. Her sunglasses are perched on her head and her hair, which Beca can distinctly remember feeling between her fingers, is piled into a bun. “Oh, oh no!” she says with sudden concern and Beca’s still trying to figure out if there’s a spider on her when Chloe’s brushing her fingers over Beca’s neck.

“Oh, yeah, that.” She relaxes, as much she can with Chloe’s fingers on her skin. “Thanks for that.” She hadn’t bothered trying to cover it up before she left the house; between the sunscreen, sweat, and possible water, it would have been in vain.

“Sorry,” Chloe says with a grimace but Beca can see the smile hiding behind it.

“No, you’re not.” She smirks at her and pops open her locker to hang her bag in it. 

Chloe scrunches her nose at her. “Not really.”

Beca gives her the side-eye but lets it slide. She has bigger things to think about, like the fact that Chloe’s ready to leave yet seems to be waiting for Beca, which means Beca will have to change in front of her.

It’s not like she’s never done it before; they’ve undressed and dressed in front of one another dozens of times, but this is the first time it’s happened the morning after Beca straddled her and had her tongue down her throat for an hour. They went from semi-familiar coworkers to something significantly more than that and with it comes an element of modesty.

She tries to push past it, starting with her shirt. She hangs it over a hook in her locker and keeps her eyes forward or down so as to not meet Chloe’s which she can feel on her every move.

“You’re so hot.”

She can’t control her head from twisting to glare. “We are at work,” she whispers harshly. All of it is unnecessary, she knows in the back of her mind, but still. “You don’t have to leer at me.”

“I’m not going to do anything. I’m a professional.” Chloe beams at her and leans against her locker, still intent on waiting it out for Beca but she can feel Chloe avert her eyes more than she was.

She does kind of like the attention, but she makes quick work of the rest of her clothing and avoids eye contact with Chloe until she’s finished.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” Chloe says with a wink as she reaches back into her locker.

“No, I’m not,” Beca huffs but she knows she’s blushing.

“Yes, you are,” Chloe replies with a shrug. “I got you something.”

“You what?” Beca looks down at the item in Chloe’s hand and then smiles. “Oh, hey, thanks! I think I’m almost out.” She grabs the can of Neutrogena sunscreen spray and puts it in her bag to take with her to her tower.

“No prob.” They close their lockers in tandem and Beca can’t help but notice Stacie is taking her sweet-ass time getting herself ready to go. “Do you want to come over again tonight?”

Beca’s attention is immediately back on Chloe. “Tonight?”

“I’m not trying to be too forward or anything. We didn’t really get much work done yesterday?” She’s sheepish as she says it but still smiling up at Beca through long eyelashes and it makes her think that maybe she is trying to be forward with her invitation.

Her suspicion is confirmed when Chloe bites her bottom lip, a tick Beca noticed when Chloe wants something (specifically, it seems, when she wants Beca).

“Sure, yeah. But we actually need to finish the outline. We have to actually teach the lesson tomorrow.”

“Oh, totes,” Chloe says emphatically. “We’ll totally finish the outline.”

“Okay.” Beca hesitates, but only for a second. “Walk me to my tower?”

“I was waiting for you to ask!”

~   ~   ~

~   ~   ~

They do not finish the outline.

The second they’re through Chloe’s front door, Beca’s being dragged (willingly) through the apartment until she’s pulling Chloe down on top of her where they’ve landed on the couch.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day,” Chloe says while she does just that.

“Same,” is all Beca replies before letting Chloe reclaim her mouth.

She moans into it because it’s instantly hot and passionate. They learned last night how each other moves and breathes and Beca puts less into “how” and more into “now.” Like how right now, she’s going to work the scrunchie out of Chloe’s hair because she wants it to curtain them off from the world. Because she wants it tangled between her fingers.

The way they’ve landed, Beca knows if either of them moves too much, things will get a lot more intimate. She anchors herself to the couch and refuses to give in to her body’s demands and the tension she feels in Chloe’s lower back when she runs her hands over it tells her she’s doing the same.

The self-restraint is a bothersome distraction and, in the very spare moments she has to think, she ponders what the harm would be.

Really, what would the harm be?

What’s so wrong about settling against one another, rocking in rhythm, making each other feel good? They’re adults. It’s not like Beca’s never had a one-night-stand before, and Chloe’s already way more than that.

That thought makes her take pause. She doesn’t want to move too fast. She doesn’t want to fuck anything up. She really likes Chloe and she’s pretty sure Chloe really likes her, too and there’s something to be said for waiting.

But being with Chloe has been so nice the past few days; Beca feels at ease around her, comfortable, cared for in a way she’s never felt from someone she’s only just begun to get to know. She feels safe.

It’s that thought that, as Chloe’s lips meet hers yet again, makes her hands slide down and over the curve of Chloe’s ass. It’s unfairly firm; that’s the first thing that flits through her mind followed by the sound Chloe makes and the way she smiles against Beca’s mouth.

Beca hums her inquiry and Chloe’s answer is another smile. 

“What?” Beca finally asks before kissing her again. Chloe shakes her head and uses the break to move her lips across Beca’s cheek. “Tell me,” Beca says with a firmer grasp. 

“You surprise me,” Chloe finally answers. And despite her tongue drawing a line along Beca’s jaw, Beca’s able to think.

“How?”

Chloe chuckles and her teeth nick Beca’s skin. “You seemed so...quiet.” Her lips pull unexpectedly at Beca’s skin and it starts a chain reaction.

Beca’s hands pull at Chloe.

Chloe’s hips meet hers and with them, Chloe’s thigh fits between Beca’s legs and her own fits between Chloe’s. She moans at the contact and hears Chloe hum next to her ear.

“See?”

“Whatever,” Beca says as her whole body rolls against Chloe in their new position. Her mind isn’t capable of witty banter at the moment and she’s not sure how Chloe’s is. Instead, she squeezes the curve beneath one hand as the other runs up Chloe’s back and into her hair to direct her into another kiss.

With the needy reconnection, she feels Chloe start to follow the slow, toe-curling pace Beca’s trying to set with the hand that rests over the rear pocket of the denim shorts Chloe changed into right in front of Beca at the station. Beca had thought it an unfair move at the time; officially off the clock, they’d started venturing into “maybe a little too flirtatious for still being in a work location” when Beca had pinched Chloe’s side teasingly and in retaliation, Chloe had smacked Beca squarely on the ass.

She’d yelped in indignation and Chloe had responded with a wink and, “Your ass looks amazing; I couldn’t help myself,” and from that point forward, it had been a race to get packed up and back to Chloe’s apartment. Beca was the slower of the two, but she blames that on Chloe’s finely honed skill of distraction because if she thought Beca’s ass looked amazing, she’d never seen her own.

She can vaguely remember Stacie making some type of a comment from the end of the row, but for the life of her, she can’t remember what it was.

“And I definitely thought you’d be more reserved.”

Beca’s reminded they’re having some form of a conversation despite the way Chloe’s thigh is pressing the thick, rough seam of Beca’s own denim shorts against her. She acknowledges Chloe’s thought with little more than a hum and uses more strength to try to keep Chloe’s lips on her own, but Chloe resists.

“But when you got on top of me last night…”

Beca opens her eyes at that to see Chloe staring down at her, dark eyes and flushed cheeks. She lifts her eyebrows to get Chloe to share the rest of her thought.

“God, that was so hot.” Chloe practically groans the words before she rests more heavily against Beca as her tongue slips back into Beca’s mouth. Her hips start rolling to their own pace, not Beca’s, and this one is distinctly quicker.

Heat rushes through Beca. And desire. Need. “Fuck,” she breathes when they part for the briefest second for air before they’re kissing again. She lets her left leg, the one barely able to fit on the couch, fall so her foot’s flat on the ground. It gives both of them more space to move and with how amazing everything feels, she’s not sure if it’s a good or bad decision.

Because they are definitely on a path. Even if they don’t follow it to the very end, Beca’s pretty sure there will be some kind of ending regardless if the heat against her thigh, which she knows is from more than friction, and between her own is anything to judge by.

Chloe’s response to Beca’s vague comment of implied pleasure is to drop a hand from the back of Beca’s neck to her waist. Her shirt’s ridden up a bit with their activity and Beca feels where Chloe’s fingers touch her bare skin. They don’t linger, though. They skate up Beca’s side, over the thin material of Beca’s T-shirt, until they’re resting over the band of her bra. She feels Chloe’s thumb on her ribs; it’s tracing back and forth along the edge of underwire in a silent request for permission and Beca almost finds it laughable. But it’s sweet that Chloe wants to be sure Beca’s okay with something new even if they are already grinding against each other in mutual desire.

She manages an, “Mhm,” because yes. Yes, she absolutely wants Chloe’s hands on her in places lower than her shoulders.

Chloe’s hand slides up with her approval, over the soft curve of her breast until it’s holding it.

It makes Beca’s back arch and head spin and she breaks their endless kiss to pull Chloe to the side with the grip she has on her hair to get her mouth on Chloe’s neck. She tastes like the sea air and sunscreen and sweat and Beca’s filled with a kind of desperation she doesn’t remember feeling when in this position with another person. She can’t seem to get enough of Chloe; she’s not close enough no matter how Beca tries to pull her closer. As soon as she kisses one part of her neck, there’s another part that is shamefully neglected. And despite having a tank top and bra between them, Beca can feel the warmth of Chloe’s hand as it kneads her breast.

It makes her want to rip off those clothes and feel Chloe’s palm on her nipple instead of the dull, pleasing torment of what she has now. That thought, that mental picture, the imagined sensations which are amplified versions of reality make ecstasy threaten to overtake her and her hands fly to Chloe’s hips and push them back.

“Wait, wait, wait.” To Beca’s credit, she’s able to form words and to Chloe’s credit, every muscle in her body freezes.

It’s silent between them save for their labored breathing. When Beca finally opens her eyes she sees Chloe’s are still closed and there’s a faint line between her brows as though she’s concentrating and Beca can’t help but bring a hand up to touch it.

Beca’s so accustomed to the bright joviality omnipresent in Chloe’s eyes that the intense darkness she’s met with when they open at her touch is startling. She opens her mouth to explain but Chloe interrupts her with a shake of her head.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to apologize.”

“I wasn’t going to.” She runs her tongue over her lips, still tingling, and takes a deep, much-needed breath and flashes a smile that makes the intensity in Chloe’s eyes soften. “I just—um, was getting really—” She sighs and knows she’s blushing, but she’s already so heated she wonders if it’s even visible. “Close.”

“Oh.” Chloe’s lower lip gets snared between her teeth and Beca has to swallow; being so desired by someone as inherently perfect as this woman is still unexpected. “Me, too.”

Those words make Beca understand Chloe’s reaction to her own admission. She forgets how to breathe for a few seconds as she fights her body’s instinct which is to pull Chloe back down and finish what they started. As tempted as she is to dive right into sex on what amounts to their third non-date, she reminds herself that she doesn’t want to mess this up.

She can’t find the right words to respond to Chloe’s statement so instead, she nods and starts to sit up. Chloe notices and moves backward off her and it’s hard not to notice how turned on she still looks.

Beca imagines she probably looks much the same.

“We should probably get some actual work done so we don’t make fools of ourselves tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah.” Chloe appears shaken and Beca realizes the 180º topic change she’s pulled.

“Oh, wait, no. Sorry.” She takes a breath and tries to not let her bumbling idiocy be inadvertently hurtful. “About...that,” she gestures between them, “I just, you know—I really like you and I don’t want to mess anything up.” She surprises herself with her unexpected honesty, but her brain is still recovering. Chloe doesn’t immediately respond and panic and regret strike her like lightning. “I don’t mean I think that sleeping with you will fuck things up, I mean, it’s probably, like, amazing but, you know, we’re still getting to know each other and it would be nice for once to sleep with someone who I actually—” She cuts herself off.

“...Actually...?” Chloe nudges, wearing an amused smile.

Beca closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Could care about.”

“I told you: you’re cute when you’re nervous.” Lips peck hers and Beca starts from the unexpected touch. She opens her eyes and Chloe’s looking at her, waiting patiently. “I appreciate that, by the way.”

“You do?”

“I don’t want to mess anything up either. Not that I think sleeping with you could ever be a mistake,” she adds with a coy little smile.

Beca takes a deep breath and holds it for a second. “Cool,” she finally says, still processing everything of the last two minutes and also the last three days. “So, then, do you want to finish our prep for tomorrow?”

“Yeah! I just…” Chloe shifts and she seems uncharacteristically tense. “At the risk of TMI, I am seriously horny right now and I’m not saying that to try to talk you into anything, but I’m not going to be able to concentrate on anything unless I…” She kind of shrugs the conclusion of her statement and it takes Beca a minute to translate it.

“Oh!” She’s sure her face is as red as the matching bathing suits they wear daily. “Yeah, no, I totally get that.”

“I’m just going to...” She points down the hall toward what Beca can only assume is the bedroom and stands. “It’s not weird, right? Like, you can just wait here. It won’t take long.”

Beca tries to think about any time in her life where someone she’s gotten hot and heavy with had to step away to relieve their own tension while Beca waited in the next room. She can’t think of any time it would have, or even could have happened. “Uh, no.” She smiles and it feels comically awkward on her face but Chloe doesn’t seem to notice. “You do you, man.”

“This time, anyway,” Chloe says with a wink as she stoops and lifts Beca’s chin with a gentle touch for a kiss and Beca can’t help but whimper. “You can help yourself, too, while I’m gone, you know.”

Beca’s ears burn at the suggestion. “I’m good.”

The look Chloe gives her as she straightens says she doesn’t believe her. “I’ll text before I come back out, just in case.”

“Cool, yeah.” Beca watches Chloe leave and hears a door close. Realizing her phone is still in her purse which is on the floor in the middle of the room, she gets up to fetch it and sits back down in the middle of the warm couch with a huff.

It’s distracting how turned on she is.

And it’s not going away, not with knowing Chloe is down the hall touching herself right this very second all because she got so turned on with Beca.

She sets her phone aside and raps her fingers on her bare knees. It’s weird, she thinks, to even consider touching herself in someone else’s home. Not even in the privacy of a bathroom. Just out in the open. Where Chloe spends much of her free time. Where she hosts guests. Friends and maybe family.

She’s the kind of turned on that physically hurts. A dull ache that reminds her that her body is ready and waiting for someone to tend to its needs. She glances at their lesson plan binder sitting on the table right where it had been forgotten last night. It’s a weak attempt at distracting herself; she can’t even manage to sit forward and slide it over where she can read it.

Her phone hasn’t pinged with a text from Chloe yet which means she’s either still doing it or allowing Beca the courtesy of having enough time to herself and both of those thoughts only make it worse.

She has to close her eyes.

She can’t sit there on Chloe’s couch in Chloe’s apartment and look around and see all of Chloe’s belongings and her pictures of her and her friends and family and touch herself.

But maybe if she closes her eyes and just...doesn’t really pay attention to where her hand falls after she stretches her arms above her head.

The side of her thumb tilts to press the slightest bit between her legs and she stops.

It’s so wrong. And weird.

And...if she focuses, strains her ears, she imagines she can hear Chloe in the other room. Her mind builds the picture: Chloe, barely undressed lying on her bed. Hand between her legs. Breathing hard. Moaning as her hips move in the way Beca can still feel. In the way they moved when they were driving Beca closer and closer to a climax she hadn’t expected to receive tonight. Her teeth pulling at her bottom lip as blue eyes, dark with lust, look down at Beca as they rock together, grinding desperation as Beca’s hands slide under Chloe’s top and over bare breasts. Tongues twisting and lips pulling as Chloe’s hand abandons Beca’s breast to move over her stomach and down the front of her shorts, past her underwear, until her fingers are between Beca’s legs.

“God, you’re so wet,” she breathes against Beca’s mouth before claiming it again with her own. Fingers moving over her greedily, like she’s learning what Beca feels like as quickly as she can. Then they find her clit and Chloe’s touch is firm, purposeful. She’s not teasing. The pads of her fingertips work in circles and Beca’s legs fall open. Her hips tilt as she moans.

She’s not going to last long. Chloe’s touching her like she touches herself, with quick strokes and the right amount of pressure.

“Fuck,” she moans, grinding herself desperately against Chloe’s touch. “I’m gonna—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. Her body rocks into orgasm and she hears Chloe’s appreciative moans nearly drowning out her own.

When it passes, her eyes flutter open and she’s alone.

Still sitting on Chloe’s couch.

She yanks her hand out of her shorts and, embarrassed despite being given the invitation do exactly what she just did, gets up to use the restroom.

The thing she realizes halfway down the hall is that the restroom is across from Chloe’s bedroom, which still has its door closed. She slows her steps to not be heard and hovers.

It must have been her imagination earlier; all she hears is silence. Either Chloe is “finished” or she’s being too quiet to be heard. Both possibilities make her blood run cold as her body flushes with heat.

She should step into the restroom and close the door and give Chloe her due privacy.

For a second, she considers opening the bedroom door.

She’s pretty sure it would be okay if she did. They seem to be on the same page about what’s developing between them. And it’s an unbelievably sexy thought, Chloe writhing on her bed, touching herself to thoughts of Beca as Beca walks in. She doesn’t think Chloe would stop; with what she knows of Chloe thus far, she would probably hold out her free hand and beckon her to join. To take over the honorable duty of pleasuring her.

Instead, Beca spins and ducks into the bathroom to hide behind its door. She winces when it closes loudly and waits. She’s not really sure what it is she’s waiting for; she feels like she’s crossed a major line of appropriateness and shame and guilt is rising in her like the tide.

When she turns to hastily use the bathroom, she catches her reflection in the mirror. Her hair’s a mess, the low ponytail she’d worn out of the station half-loose and frizzed out thanks to Chloe’s hands and the couch. Her cheeks are pink and her lips are dark and she works on pushing away the shame of tending to her arousal by reminding herself why she was so aroused in the first place.

Chloe and her mouth and her hands and her hips and her thigh.

“Beca?”

She hears her in the hall; voice hesitant, and Beca realizes she left her phone in the other room so she couldn’t tell Chloe the coast is clear for her to return.

“Um, yeah, just in the bathroom,” she answers.

“Oh, okay!” Chloe sounds closer now, probably talking right against the door. “Do you want to borrow anything? I have lots of shorts. I don’t need them back or anything. Unless you don’t need—unless you’re fine? But I know you’re not fine.” She can hear the proud smirk in Chloe’s tone.

Beca lets her face fall to her hands and feels it burning; she knows what Chloe’s implying, and she’s not wrong. But it makes Beca think about all the times she’s thought about how it must suck to be a dude, to get turned on and have it be obvious regardless of how inconvenient or inappropriate it is and in comparison to that, the fact that the sexy, steamy make-out session with a super hot woman resulted in her underwear and shorts being soaked through is really not a big deal in comparison to the alternative.

So she sucks up her unnecessary humiliation. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“Cool! I’ll hang them on the doorknob; I’m going back to the couch. See you in a couple?”

“Sure, yeah.” Beca hears the rattle of the handle and then silence. She exhales and washes her hands, rinses her face to help cool down, and fixes her hair before opening the door a crack to reach and grab the loaned article of clothing.

Feeling foolish and feeling foolish for feeling foolish, her own clothes folded up to get stuffed into her bag in-hand, she makes her way back to the living room.

Chloe’s on the couch, the lesson binder in her lap and a highlighter bouncing in her fingers. She looks at up at Beca’s return. “Better?”

She’s still not sure she can address the events of the past several minutes with words yet so she offers a tight smile as she puts her shorts in her purse. Chloe’s bright-eyed and still a little rosy-cheeked Chloe doesn’t hesitate to lean over and kiss her as soon as she sits down.

It does wonders to help calm her nerves and get her out of her head. It’s like she read Beca’s mind the moment she returned and knows exactly what to do to unwind her. Again.

“That was fun,” Chloe says, lips still touching Beca’s. “And super sexy. Did you…?”

“Did I what?” Beca asks dumbly. Mostly, she just wants to hear Chloe say it.

There’s what sounds like a groan that lives and dies in Chloe’s throat and Beca sees her teeth catch her lower lip before she kisses her again. “I know you did; I heard you.”

But instead, Chloe doesn’t give her what she wants. At least, not what she thought she wanted. “Dude!” she says, fake-shocked (though maybe a little real-embarrassed). “You did not!”

“I totally did.” Chloe kisses her again.

“Shit,” Beca whimpers against the kiss Chloe gives her again and then eases herself back and out of easy range. “If we don’t change the topic, I’m going to need to borrow another pair of shorts.”

Chloe gives her a cocky smirk but sits back. “I have plenty of shorts. But okay. In my defense, I can’t help it that you’re so irresistible.”

Beca clears her throat and grabs the binder from Chloe’s lap to try to hide the way that statement makes her feel. Buzzy. Fluttery. Swoony. “Ditto,” she says with a quick glance up before turning the page. “But let’s get ready for the pool tomorrow. I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of the new recruits.”

“You could never. Now, are you okay to take the position for circulation and demonstrate compressions?”

“Uhh…” Beca���s vision blurs for a second, the words and illustrations drifting in and out of focus at the thought of having to demonstrate chest compressions. Of the memory of the heaviness of the lifeless body she pulled from the water and the hollow feeling of his chest beneath her palms. “Um, would you—I’d rather airway and breathing?”

She thinks Chloe clocks her discomfort, but if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge it. “Totes! Maybe we can take turns.”

“Yeah.” She sniffs and blinks a few times to clear her vision. “Totes.”

~   ~   ~

~   ~   ~

“Goodnight, Bec,” Chloe says with a soft smile at her front door upon walking her out. “I’m looking forward to our first real lesson tomorrow. I think it’s going to be super fun.”

“Me, too.” Beca shifts her bag on her shoulder. 

“And you can keep the shorts.”

Beca squeaks when Chloe’s fingers slip into her waistband to snap it playfully. “Thanks.” She tries to put snark into it but she knows she fails when Chloe leans in to kiss her. She thinks it’s unfair someone’s kiss can affect her in so many ways. “Goodnight, Chlo.”

“Text me when you get home?”

Beca nods and she’s the one to lean in for one last peck before heading down the steps toward her car.

When she pulls out her phone as she’s walking in the door of her house to text Chloe, she sees the chain of unread messages from her earlier in the evening.

“Omg Bec That was amazing You turn me on so much I couldn’t stop imagining it was you I hope you’re touching yourself right now God I bet you feel so good I hope I get to touch you someday Soonish, maybe? I don’t want to rush you!! I like that you want to go a little slow Totally ok to wait I can make out with you forever Is the coast clear for me to come out? Beca? I’m gonna peek out cuz I think you’re in the bathroom now but I promise not to look-look if you’re not!!”

She can’t stop the smile that makes itself at home and she’s pressing ‘send’ on her “I’m home” text when Stacie, in all her observant glory, announces, “Those aren’t your shorts!”

“Hello to you, too,” Beca says with a roll of her eyes as she kicks off her slides and drops her bag by the door.

“What happened to the ones you were wearing when you and the ginger scampered out of the station falling over each other?” At least this time, Stacie doesn’t get off the couch to more closely inspect Beca with a teasing, yet accusatory eye.

“Dude, why are you still up? It’s almost 1:00.”

“You know I’m off tomorrow. And you’re the one rolling in after midnight—again—even though you do have to work tomorrow. You going to make me torture it out of you?”

“You don’t get to know every detail of my sex life,” she sighs and heads toward her bedroom at a speed she hopes outpaces Stacie’s inevitable advance.

“So you had sex?!” Stacie’s voice is already behind her in the hallway.

“We didn’t have sex,” Beca says with a groan.

“Then why are you wearing her clothes?”

“Because I spilled soy sauce on mine; you know I’m a clutz.” She makes it to her bedroom and tries to close the door but hears Stacie’s hand stop it, so she turns. “What?” She puts on a stern, irritated face but she could never really be irritated with Stacie. Just mildly irritated.

“Is it because you creamed yourself again?”

“Jesus, Stacie!” She shoves at her door. “Don’t be gross. I’m tired; move so I can go to bed.”

“Tired because you had an earth-shattering orgasm?”

She shoves again and this time, Stacie relents. “GOODNIGHT.”

~   ~   ~

~   ~   ~

To be continued...

#bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #lifeguard au #fanfic

[studentville-struggles]

Blind Date // Draco Malfoy

Post-war AU thing?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Words: 1588

Summary: What will happen when the friends of a witch avoiding magic, set her up on a magical blind date?

TW: mild angst, suggestions of PTSD? mentions of war, fluff

Part 1. Check out more of my work here

You had pretty much left the wizarding world after the war.

You still saw your friends, you still lived in a predominantly wizarding street in London, however, your wand sat in its box, tucked in the back of your wardrobe. The last time you had used it had been during the war. The last time you held it, not long after.  

Instead of becoming an Auror as you had always dreamed, you had gone to muggle school, a university. You became a research scientist, marvelling in the advancements the muggles had somehow made without ever figuring out magic.  

It had been nearly six years since the battle and you were, whilst content in not using magic, starting revising the work from your school years having realised you were forgetting even basic spells. This had worried your friends who were concerned by your immediate walk away from the magical world. They had thought initially it was the shock of the war, that you would recover and come back. They didn’t know about the nightmare, the awful things you saw every night when you shut your eyes once more.  

You knew it was a worry to them, and you made sure to reassure them and make sure not to slip too far away into the muggle world; even if that would be easier for you.  

This week you were out for dinner with your friends, at a cute little restaurant in Camden. Owned and operated by witches but the local muggles never seemed to notice.  

“You have a date tomorrow by the way.” You nearly choked.

“I’m sorry I have a what now?”

“A date. A blind date, a magical dude in case you didn’t guess. Better get your robes cleaned.”

Oh no. This can only end badly.

Preparing for your date you pulled on your nicest robes, double checking your hair was okay before leaving your flat for this mystery date. You thought about taking your wand, but today was not the day.  

Walking in a robe was somewhat strange, not quite as comfortable as you had remembered, although you couldn’t ignore how fabulous and important it made you feel. It wasn’t a long walk to the restaurant, and you were grateful your friends had chosen such a place to help keep you comfortable.  

You were the first to arrive, taking your seat at the table, you relaxed watching the other couples and families around you.

This was a blind date indeed; your friends had blindsided you totally. The man sitting down at the table opposite you was none other than Draco Malfoy. The two of you hadn’t spoken much at school, his reputation leading you to steer clear from him in an attempt to make your life easier. What you did know, however, was the side of the war he fought on. The side that killed your father and you were not okay with it.  

“Y/N”

“Draco.” You were curt and you felt a little bad for how it came out.

“Did you know what they had planned?” He seemed nervous, though at least he was making an effort.

“No, they only told me about this yesterday.” Even if you didn’t particularly like him based on what you knew, your friends picked him out for a reason.

“Oh wow, Blaise told me last week.”

What surprised you from the evening, was the ease you had talking to Draco, even when the conversation had involved magic. Draco had offered to take you home afterwards, to which you had raised an eyebrow, assuming correctly that it involved apparating you home.  

Your landing was a little less than graceful, making Draco chuckle at you a bit.

“Shhh, I haven’t done that in a while.” Draco looked at you confused.

“Wait, then how did you get to the restaurant?”

“I walked.” Your voice showing your confusion, like how else would you get there? “Can I get you a hot drink? Tea, coffee, cocoa?”  

“Tea please.”

You set to work, filling and boiling the kettle and Draco looked baffled.  

“What are doing?”

“Making tea, why?”

“Why don’t you just use your wand and boil it?”

“One: not the way you should make tea, it needs to brew properly. Two: I don’t have my wand on me.”

“What do you mean you don’t have your wand on you?!” Draco seemed almost alarmed that you wouldn’t always have your wand on you.

“That’s a bit too personal for a first date I think.” You were expecting the Draco from Hogwarts to return, for him to invade your personal business. Except he didn’t.

“Well, in that case, I think I should learn the correct way for making tea for the second date,” Draco said, sidling up next to you to see what you were doing. You didn’t expect him to drop the subject so quickly but you appreciated it none the less.  

“Someone’s eager.” Draco merely hummed in response.

“What’s that?” The questioning had begun.

“A kettle.”

After teaching Draco the ‘proper’ way of making a cup of tea, you sat in your living room chatting the rest of the night away. You had long decided that whilst you were very much not a fan of his father and what he stood for, you couldn’t judge Draco on that without giving him his due. You were so glad you did or you wouldn’t be sat on your sofa laughing until your stomach ached.  

Once the clock struck midnight, you both said it was worth saying goodnight lest you not be well for work the next day. Having confirmed a day for you to visit Draco at his house for dinner, he left a gentle kiss on the back of your hand before apparating home. Your home was quiet once more.  

It was four days later and Draco had sent you an owl asking if you would like him to apparate to your house to pick you up. He had written saying it was too far to walk and if you weren’t comfortable to ‘apparate alone’ he was more than happy to come over. You thought it was very touching that he thought of you and had remembered you avoidance of wand talk, and that it had been a while since you had apparated before your last meeting. In reality, whilst Draco had remembered you saying it had been a while, he mostly just wanted to see you as soon as possible.  

It had been a long time that anyone outside of his close friendship group had given him a clean slate upon seeing him. He had remembered seeing you at the battle of Hogwarts, though not for long. Before that, his memories of you were few and far between but the constant theme was grace and elegance. He had thanked Blaise for setting him up with you as soon as he’d returned to his house, Blaise shocked by the light blush and wide grin present.

You had eagerly sent the large brown owl home with your response, making sure she had eaten, drunk and had some rest. As requested, Draco arrived promptly outside your front door, knocking as the hour changed.  

This time you had dressed somewhat more casually, wanting to be able to relax at Draco’s house, and no one ever wore robes at home anyway.  

Dinner was amazing, though Draco admitted to using magic to make sure he didn’t mess up. He wined and dined you for hours, laughing and smiling throughout the night. You were amazed at how comfortable you felt.

Weeks passed and you and Draco practically together. You spent many a night together in both houses. Your friends were over the moon! There was the obvious teasing, but they loved seeing you come out of your shell properly, for maybe the first time since the war.

Like most other nights, Draco and yourself were lounging on the sofa, music playing as you chatted and nursed your wine after dinner.

“Darling?”

“Yeah, Draco?” You replied, looking up at him from your warm spot on the sofa.

“Why don’t you use your wand anymore?”

“What I did with it was too bad to use it again.”

“Oh no love, you could never-” You didn’t even let him finish.

“Draco, I killed people. I killed people during the war and I can never take that back.”

“Sweetheart.”

“I just, every time I pick it up I’m reminded. So I put it away.”

“Well, why don’t we make new memories with it?”

“What?”  

“We do different things using your wand so that you think of those memories when you hold it rather than the bad ones?”

“You think that will work?”

“I’m willing to try.”

The nerves and tension had left you, amazed that anyone would want to do such a thing for you. Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you. The kiss was soft but meaningful, conveying everything you needed to.  

Pulling away you whispered to Draco, the first step. “I think I’m going to reconnect my house to the floo network.”

A soft smile graced Draco’s face. “Careful, I’ll be popping in all the time.”  

“You can do that any way you fool, you apparate over all the time.” You chuckled.  

That was all that was said on the topic that night. As soon as you got home, with Draco insisting he ‘apparated you home’ because he had to be a proper gentleman at all times, you sent an owl to the ministry requesting access to the floo network.

Part 2

Part 2 coming very soon! What do you think will happen? What do you want to happen?

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#studentville-struggles #rachel tries to write #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco drabbles #draco fanfic #draco malfoy drabble #draco malfoy fanfiction