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jangofctts · 3 years

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Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA

It's curious.

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is.

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos.

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

And yes, you tried to slip by for this one.

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye.

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?"

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but—

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut.

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit."

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?"

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information.

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.”

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.”

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.”

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting.

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.”

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height.

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces.

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed."

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder.

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well.

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me."

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts.

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this?

This is too good.

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions."

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that."

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride.

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest.

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you."

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.”

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left.

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet.

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss.

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this.

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything.

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin.

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water.

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this?

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—”

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name.

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.”

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it.

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.”

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones.

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate.

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part.

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.”

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.”

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away.

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit.

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly—

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands.

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here.

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.”

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him.

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.”

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages.

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin.

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever.

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?

#we out here #yeehaw #my writing #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #ct-7567 #captai rex #clone x reader #clone trooper x reader #the clone wars #tcw #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #star wars #sw

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unnamed-blob · 3 years

Text

Obsidian Snare

⇢ Pairing: Dream x reader

⇢ Genre: mild fluff, angst

⇢ Length: Oneshot

⇢ Synopsis: After Dream is locked in the prison, (Y/N) is convinced that’s the last she’ll ever hear of him. A certain visitor at her distant home turns that desperate hope, and her peaceful life, on its head.

AN: I had to get this out before the prison breakout occured

Sam’s hand felt like a chain upon her wrist, the tight grip hardly a comfort to cold, unforgiving metal. Her gaze flitted between the ground and the appendage constantly, casting paranoid glances over her shoulder at times, attempting to catch sight of the comforting wooden walls of her cabin, even when she was all too aware it was hidden by the trees and distance.

A glint of metal caught in the sunlight and (Y/N) darted her gaze forwards, heart nearly catching in her throat. Her tense shoulders loosened ever so slightly when she noticed it came from the Warden’s trident, though a chill still settled into her spine, more than aware of the resources and strength the male before her held.

Chains should really quite be the least of her worries at this rate.

She focused her gaze onto the ground below again, tracing jutting roots and pebbles as they stepped over them. Her gaze slid upwards again, eyeing the edges of the netherite armor clasped on the figure, the helmet thankfully absent for an easier view of his face, likely to appear less daunting when he had suddenly shown up on her doorstep without a prior word.

In some mild manner, it had helped, though with a longer look at him, (Y/N) realized it was a mere courtesy, an extension of good will. The absence of the piece held no weight of repercussions, the figure much too tall and daunting for someone to even attempt to aim for his unprotected face.

Not that it’d work anyway, she mused to herself, avoiding the sight of the sharpened and enchanted blade strapped to his side, staving off thoughts and speculations on the items he held in his inventory.

A shiver travelled down her spine at a particular thought and Sam’s hand tightened.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

She regretted opening the door for him.

- - -

(Y/N) flitted about the kitchen, wincing as the bowls clattered against each other as she dropped them on the counter. She took a moment to organize them unnecessarily, if only to keep her hands busy, before she leaned back and raised her finger to her lips in thought. Her gaze darted about the kitchen, attention catching on the latest chest she’d added to her kitchen, spinning on her heel to stalk across the floor and throw the lid open.

The contents were the same as before, the ingredients inside not having miraculously disappeared into thin air from the last time she’d checked. Some of the tension bled from the female’s figure at the sight, leaning her weight against the lid as she sighed. Of course, it also meant she couldn’t busy herself with hastily gathering them all last minute again, too occupied physically to allow her thoughts to run rampant.

(Y/N) dropped the lid unceremoniously, groaning as she stood, finding nothing to nitpick over in the kitchen as she crossed her arms. She untied her hair from the updo she had thrown it into, running her fingers over her scalp as she straightened the strands.

It was only Niki after all, the kind, pink haired female (Y/N) had never managed to befriend, both occupied with the constant warfare and heavy tension over the lands. Granted, things weren’t pitch perfect in any manner at the moment, but avoiding some mind controlling egg was easier than constantly utilizing supplies during a war.

(Y/N) winced at the thought of the tense, guarded glances always thrown at her as soon as she’d take a step into the populated SMP city. It’d been part of the reason why she’d taken occupation in the middle of a populated forest, trees stretching for miles as far as one could see. It was daunting at times, chilling even when she’d be awake in the middle of the night and hear the cries and groans of hostile mobs near her walls, aware that any form of help was too far to make an impact in an emergency, and that her body likely wouldn’t be discovered for several months until someone remembered about her or stumbled upon her abode.

(Y/N) huffed at the dark thoughts swirling in her head. Really now, even when the bastard was dumped into some high security prison, he still managed to hold a tight grip over her life.

It had been a desperate stab at friendship, approaching Niki with a friendly invitation for baking lessons at her house, wringing her hands nervously despite how much she’d tried to quell her nerves. If the female had noticed, she’d only shaken off her surprised expression, casting a friendly smile instead and asking for the coordinates.

Truth was, (Y/N) had never had an interest in baking before, opting to delight in the bought goods from Niki’s bakery whenever she could rather than attempt to do it herself. Though if she were going to make an attempt at finally bonding with at least some of the members of the SMP, further than just George and Sapnap, (she ignored the stab in her chest at how distant the three of them had become in the latest months) then she’d make sure to do so properly. Even if Niki weren’t fond of her, or the entire event managed to become an absolute disaster, at the very least Niki would have participated in an activity she was obviously fond of.

A knock sounded against her door, snapping (Y/N) out of her thoughts as she froze. She was already here?

She cast another paranoid glance over her kitchen, pausing in her haste to dart to the door as she lingered in the doorway.

She had everything prepared, right?

Niki wouldn’t despise her just for missing one ingredient, right?

Of course not, what was she thinking?

(Y/N) inhaled before releasing the stuttering breath, smoothing down her clothes and messing with strands of her hair in an attempt to ensure it looked presentable without a mirror to confirm. She plastered a nervous grin on her face, reaching forwards to clasp her hand around the doorknob and swing the door open.

“Thanks for coming N-”

The words died in her throat as she met face to face with a glimmering, enchanted netherite chestplate. (Y/N)’s mouth dried as it remained frozen half open, finally willing the courage to raise her gaze to meet eyes with a certain creeper hybrid.

“(Y/N)” came Sam’s soft greeting, a tense smile lifting at the corners of his lips. He seemed hunched over, his hands empty of any typical hold on a weapon. Though the details hardly had an impact on his threatening image, much less when the mere mention of his occupation would catch her breath in her throat.

“Sam.” She countered, hands clenching on the smooth doorknob within her palm, grateful for the lack of engraving on it as she was certain it would’ve left an imprint on her palm with her vice grip.

A voice within her head whispered to call him upon his Warden title instead, though she dismissed it, deciding against angering the male. She certainly wouldn’t be able to take Sam on alone, much less when she was in the middle of the woods with no hope for backup arriving in time. (She ignored the sting that arose from questioning if she had anyone to call upon for backup.)

She shifted further into the safety of her home, discreetly swinging the door ajar, lessening the open space into her home. Sam’s eyes briefly flitted to the wooden object before his gaze met (Y/N)’s, sending a shiver down her spine.

“How are you, (Y/N)?”

“I’m… well,” she swallowed, ignoring the “I was better before you came” lingering on the tip of her tongue.

Sam reached a hand upwards to rub at the back of his neck, his eyes scanning the area around the two of them before he dropped his appendage, releasing a barely-there sigh. He straightened, meeting gazes with the female before him again.

(Really, she wished he’d stop doing that. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was meant as an intimidation tactic.)

“(Y/N), I have a responsibility as the Warden of the server, which I’m certain you’re more than aware of.” Sam paused, (Y/N) stared at him in silence for a moment before realizing his intentions and gave a hurried nod. He continued, “As such, I take every precaution to ensure the protection of the building and that the prisoner remains… inside.”

(Y/N) didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Dream asked for y-”

“No!” Sam’s hand caught the door as (Y/N) desperately attempted to swing it shut, lock the male and every word he had said out of her house and head. With a single sentence he had shattered the haven she had finally built for herself, by herself, the pieces too small to rebuild it as before.

“(Y/N) as the Warden-”

“I don’t care!” She hissed, ignoring the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, her distraught more than evident in her voice.

Sam had the decency to slump a tad bit, before he easily shoved the wooden barricade open and grabbed her elbow as (Y/N) flailed, kicking her legs against his shins and trying to plant her feet to the floor.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).”

- - -

The prison finally loomed over the last remaining barricade of trees, solid and unrelenting, brash against the soft blue sky. (Y/N) stared at it as Sam guided her past roots and bushes, keeping her from walking into a tree. A terrible, cold feeling pooled in her gut and she stopped as the two of them reached the last of the forest, feet stilling with the last tree before the open plain before the prison. The Warden turned to her silently, scanning her over, when no apparent issue came to light, he locked gazes with her, his eyes asking the question without a need to open his mouth.

Why did you stop?

(Y/N) tried to inhale a deep breathe, but her throat was too tight and it felt as if she wasn’t getting enough. She chocked down a desperate gasp for air as the prison loomed over her, fighting the urge to kneel over and dig her nails in the dirt, hacking for air. At the very least, she’d have the gritty dust on her fingers as a totem of the outside world in such a spotless, manmade build, composed only of unbreaking blocks and choking lava.

She turned her head over her shoulder towards the breeze as it grounded her, blowing strands of her loose hair out of her face and lifting her hair off her shoulders. The trees rustled, branches swaying towards her as they beckoned her, calling her to her humble abode in the woods, one with the nature surrounding it, with moss and vines already creeping up the sides of the walls.

She didn’t need to imagine it as it seemed to flicker in the distance, a haven away from an unrelenting prison and the madman trapped inside. She could already hear Niki’s bubbling laughter echo towards her, her own mixing with it as the smell of bread and baked goods wafted through the air. The fox she’d been feeding leftovers to poking curiously nearby, ears flickering towards the open kitchen window.

The Warden tightened his grip and the house vanished. The trees grew silent and (Y/N) fought his grip once more as he dragged her from the protection of the forest, the breeze giving her no parting touch. (Y/N) tried to bend down, to flop lifelessly on the ground and make him drag her, leave as many touches of the dirt and blades of grass on her as she could but he yanked her upwards easily, leaving her stumbling like a dazed lamb to catch her balance.

Before she could plead, or scream, or cry, or mourn, they were standing before the entryway, the shadow of Pandora’s Vault chilling her to her bones and chasing any semblance of warmth the sun had left within her. The Warden dragged her through without a hint of struggling, her small body and desperate escape attempts no challenge to the uncountable, heavy-duty blocks he had built the prison with with his own hands.

The purple sheen of the Nether portal washed over her, the haze of it settling in her vision and body, leaving her dazed eyed and slow, depending on the Warden’s tugging to guide her. She hadn’t used one in months, it wasn’t necessary when she was insistent on leaving no shortcut for others to find her nor having any need for high quality netherite weapons when there were no human threats. She expected for the sight of a too-large reception area to snap her out of her haziness, but the drowsiness stayed within her head, leaving her swaying without constant support and tugging her brain down into ignorant bliss of the surrounding action.

She didn’t bother to fight it, not as she numbly shook her head when the Warden’s voice drifted over her head, asking if she had any items on her (she was preparing for baking lessons, why would she?), not as she was pulled down identical corridors and softly pushed onto a bed. She curled into a ball on it, shutting her eyes.

This was just a bad dream, wasn’t it?

What an awful nightmare.

But the hands were back, pulling her upwards and holding her close to the Warden as she passed over a hallway of lava, pulling her down more and more corridors (how many pathways did this place have?), prodding her towards a passageway of water as she blankly stared at it, unable to will her body to the basic motions of swimming (the Warden had to tug her through a hidden doorway, muttering something along the lines of never mentioning it, why?).

She felt the fog lift as books were constantly pushed into her arms in a steady stream, the words settling into the back of her mind as she signed. She snapped back to attention finally as the Warden admitted that the sole prisoner was behind the fall of lava before her. She whirled her head in his direction, feeling her breath hitch as he stared forwards dutifully. Sam took a deep breath, stepping away from the lever to come closer to her, his gas mask hanging around his neck as his eyes flashed regretfully.

“For whatever it's worth,” he looked into her eyes as he hovered his hand near her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) looked downwards, digging her nails into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, blinking back tears. She didn’t answer, but she allowed Sam to place a comforting hand upon her shoulder and squeeze it.

“Just for a few hours,” Sam muttered as he pulled away, pulling the lever suddenly as her eyes snapped upwards to watch the lava fall.

The singular cell floating among the pool of lava came into view, the prisoner not in immediate sight, though it wasn’t hard to notice the telltale flash of bright orange against the far wall as (Y/N) craned her neck upwards.

“Just enough to calm him down,” Sam finalized, motioning to the moving pathway that sputtered to life under her feet, confidently crossing the chasm of lava bubbling underneath.

(Y/N) hated it for heartlessly depositing her on obsidian bricks, heading backwards without a single glance or hesitation to take her along. For how Sam stood at the only way in and out and didn’t extend his hand, didn’t give her the option to forget whatever had occurred and let her head back to her carefully constructed life, leave her in peace to mend the tangled and broken strings of her relationships to the other members, torn before she had a chance to form them.

Sam didn’t leave but the sight of him was blocked out by the lava soon enough, the heat pushing against her face and plastering loose strands of hair to her warming face.

(Y/N) dug her nails further into her flesh and slowly turned around to face the inside of the cell as the Netherite barrier lowered, leaving her no option but to cautiously step forwards, as if a sleeping predator were trapped in the same space as her. (There was the lava behind her, but she had no doubt the Warden would find her moments after the respawn process, dragging her back kicking and screaming however many times it took.)

Dream lay against the far end of the cell, face turned towards the obsidian wall as he hummed leisurely, tracing unseen patterns in the harsh surface. He didn’t bother to acknowledge her presence as she stood in her place, freezing impossibly still as he flopped onto his back, dramatically yawning with a hand over his mouth.

“Oh come on Sam,” he chuckled, crossing his arms behind his back, settling into a comfortable position as if he were splayed on a bed for a nap. “I’ve said my terms, and what follows. I’m sure you already know what you have to do, and I’ll comply! Just like that!” He removed a hand to wave it in the air as he spoke, (Y/N)’s eyes following it as if it were a poised weapon.

“Wouldn’t want your only prisoner to die now, would you?” Dream shrugged casually, placing his arm back into its previous position as (Y/N)’s gaze was drawn to the gathering pile of raw potatoes at the filled water hole. She wasn’t certain how many he received in a day, couldn’t calculate off of that, but she could only assume it had taken days for such a worth to accumulate.

His chuckle left shivers down her spine, needles stabbing into her back as he continued. “Built an entire, high security prison but couldn’t keep the only prisoner alive. A failed prison if it can’t serve its basic purpose, right?”

The silence stretched between them uncomfortably as Dream was content to pretend to sleep and (Y/N) didn’t dare move to draw attention to herself. She finally sputtered in a breath, her murmur practically echoing in the confined space as she spoke.

“I’m not Sam.”

The effect was instantaneous, Dream was sitting upwards, his mask staring at her before she could so much as blink, the moment too long as he made no other motions in the ticking seconds. When she shuffled backwards uncomfortably, it seemed to break him out of his focus. The male was crossing the cell as she opened her mouth, drawing breath into her lungs, ready to scream and yell at him to not come closer to her-

Dream’s arms wrapped around her, shoving any words she had hoped to say back into her, leaving her struggling to draw in air.

“You’re here,” he murmured the female detesting how his tall build allowed him to wrap his arms around her back, hands gripping onto her upper arms as he tugged her off her balance. (Y/N) stared upwards at the smiling, blank mask, attempting to keep her balance on awkwardly placed feet, if only not to have to touch him any more than already.

Dream sighed, the action expelling all of the tension from his body as a hand separated away from her to tug the mask upwards, exposing his entire face rather than just his mouth and chin. He grinned at her, his acidic green eyes seemingly glowing from the lava behind her. (Y/N) stiffened as he gazed down at her, eyes softening into a lovesick look as he studied all of her features, as if convincing himself she were truly here.

He grinned, dangerously, before yanking her closer, sweeping her completely off kilter as she was pressed against his chest, her arms trapped between the two of them. Despite spending several months within the prison already, his grip was strong enough to give her no room to struggle, pressing tighter as she attempted to wriggle away. She gave up eventually, stilling as Dream gently tugged his fingers through her soft strands, pressing his lips to the top of her head affectionately as his breath disrupted the still strands.

“I missed you, you know.” He murmured into her scalp, (Y/N) fighting down the urge to stiffen at his words. His voice had slipped into the old, coy, syrupy sweet tone she knew, any unthought words or actions were certain to be snared in his attention, words twisted to poke and prod at her vulnerable parts, backing her into a corner before she relented and allowed him to coo sugar-covered lies into her mind.

He turned his face to press his cheek against her head, leaving his next words to be heard clearer in the open air.

“I’ve been so alone in here, why didn’t you ever come visit me?”

(Y/N) tightened her hands into fists, keeping completely still even as his tighter hold seemed to loosen in favor of skimming his fingertips wherever he could reach on her figure, drifting dangerously close to the exposed skin at the collar of her shirt.

“I’ve been busy, built a house.” She answered back, the sentence short and containing enough information to not be pointless, tone betraying nothing about her screaming terror and pleas to be anywhere else within her head.

Dream hummed in response, lifting a section of hair to peer at it. “You must’ve been quite busy then. Your hair’s grown, you know? Shame I don’t have anything to tie it with in prison.” (Y/N) shrugged in response, imagining the bottle’s worth of shampoo she’d have to liberally apply to her locks to erase any history of his contact with it.

The male huffed dramatically, releasing her hair to draw her closer (as if that was possible) and dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Oh (Y/N),” he whined, the female nearly cringing away at the all too believable tone flowing from his lips, “it's been so dreadfully lonely in prison. You know that no one’s visited me? It's terrible.”

She didn’t know what else to do other than shrug half heartedly, awaiting the drop, the final implication of his words. He turned his head to lower his volume, leaving his words still heard as clear as day from his close position to her ear.

“You won’t abandon me though darling, will you? You’ll visit me, right? It’s oh so torturous to be alone in here, you know.”

(Y/N) considered making a quip about how Dream still had Sam, but she decided against it, biting her tongue to prevent any unnecessary sentences that would lead into a further conversation, expertly manipulated in Dream’s honey tone and sweet words.

“I’d like to,” she replied, pausing for a moment as Dream silently awaited her next words, “but it's uncomfortable like this, isn’t it? I don’t want to come just because you decided to go on some hunger strike.” Dream’s fingers sunk into her flesh, the female wincing as his nails left crescent marks before he loosened from her reaction.

He chuckled, “Oh come on now, you can’t tell me you’d come properly without it.” he purred, (Y/N) gave a half hearted motion resembling a shrug, pushing her head away from his chest to peer at the corner.

“I can come regularly, once a week, but it can’t be comfortable to starve yourself every time just to get one visit.”

(Y/N) wasn’t entirely certain if it would work, even in prison, Dream still tugged on the strings connected to her, controlling her actions. But it was this or having Sam drag her back unwillingly, her built haven of safety giving way to constant paranoia and fear of the next time she’d see the flash of netherite armor coming for her.

Dream pushed her head back into his shoulder, curling over her to whisper in her ear, “You promise?” (Y/N)’s words would be too muffled against the fabric of his orange jumper, so she merely gave a nod, the action more than pleasing the male before her.

“Oh it’ll be great,” Dream admitted, pulling away to push her chin upwards to face his gaze, smiling as if she’d promised she’d be coming to visit everyday (she held down the shiver of such a thing occurring if Dream were to protest enough). “It’s not as if you have plans with other people anyway,” he chuckled as if it were an inside joke between the two, and (Y/N) clamped her mouth shut to not shove the news in his face that she was healing. That she was interacting with the other occupants of the server, after Dream had made so many precautions and actions to prevent the exact happening, tied her to him with every human’s bone deep dependency on social contact.

The moment lasted too long and (Y/N) tugged herself away from the embrace, Dream releasing her now that he’d gotten what he wanted. (He could always hug her again during her next visit.)

She slowly turned around to peer at the flowing lava barricade, watching the bubbles form and pop. Surely it had been long enough already? Surely Sam was on the opposite end, already pulling the lever to allow her to leave?

Dream protested her actions immediately, a hand appearing on her wrist to pull her further into the room as a frown tugged at his lips, a tense smile slipping into place as she peered at his face with a confused expression.

“Come on,” he pulled her across the floor, opening the chest in the corner. One hand kept a constant hold on her as the other riffled through the contents, leather bound books thumping against his other as he searched for a specific one. “I’ve been writing stuff in the meantime, nothing else to do you know? Here, I wanted you to read this o-”

An explosion rang out, muted by the thick obsidian walls and the surrounding lava, but abrupt enough to startle (Y/N), yelping as she tripped over her own feet. Dream clasped her to his form easily, holding her protectively as the sounds of exploding TNT rang out, the damage left to the imagination. Silence rung out for a moment and (Y/N) yanked herself out of the male’s hold, stumbling slightly from the unexpected ease it took to leave it.

She stammered, already making her way to the lava curtain pulled shut. “That’s it, I don’t- that’s enough. Sam!-”

A louder, closer explosion cut her off, leaving her to throw herself backwards and scramble away from the expected blast, flashes of battles leaving her tense for an incoming attack. There was none, nothing other than Dream curling his arms around her frame again, pulling her close as she stared, wide eyed and frozen to her only escape, barricaded by flowing lava.

“Sam... Sam, let me out,” she croaked, the words hardly reaching the male behind her, much less the one controlling the prison itself. The blasts finally quieted, the tense silence ringing in her ears as Dream casually reached forwards to tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear, as if explosions ringing out within a prison were a completely natural occurrence.

She wanted to snap, to smack his hand away and yell at him for what was happening (even though it wasn’t possible, he was in prison, he had no power or visitors-), though the crackle of the hidden intercom in the room cut off any thoughts, her eyes darting about for the disembodied static filling the room.

“Sam, Sam, please”, she whimpered, the mask clad figure behind her shushing her as she trembled.

“(Y/N), I’m-”, Sam hesitated, before she heard the Warden’s voice filter through, cold and collected, steadfast when he wasn’t the one trapped in a small cell with their manipulative ex lover and the villain of the entire server. “There’s been a security breach. I can’t let any visitors in or out until the cause is found. I’ll be investigating in the meantime.”

The com crackled off and (Y/N) hated her mind for flashing to a particular line of text written within one of the books she had been handed, dread curling in the pit of her stomach.

In the event of security protocol- I hereby acknowledge that I could potentially be locked within the cell for up to 7 days, or until the security issue is resolved.

“Well,” Dream’s calm tone cut through her fear gripped panic, too proud and tilting for the current situation. “It looks like your visit has been extended.”

He pulled her limp body against his chest, resting his head on top of her head as (Y/N) shut her eyes, imagining the safe cottage she had built in the woods, far far away from the prison.

But the heat from the lava was too hot to compare to the soft breeze. And the suffocating grip on her was worse than any nightmares she had woken from.

#dream smp #dream smp x reader #x reader #fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt #dreamwastaken #dream x reader #writing #angst

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krisdreaming · 3 years

Text

More Than Enough

Series: Naruto: Shippuden

Pairing: Hyuga Neji x fem!reader

Summary: Neji isn’t used to feeling insecure, but when it comes to you, he just needs a little extra reassurance that he’s doing okay. (Also, first kiss? It’s not really explicitly stated, but I like to think that it is :3)

WC: 1.8k

A/N: My first Naruto writing! To say I’m nervous to post this would be an understatement. I understand that Naruto isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I promise it won’t be taking over the blog or anything. I’m just suffering from a little brainrot at the moment. I’ll tag everything I write for Naruto with “kris writes naruto” so feel free to block the tag if you like. And with that out of the way, let’s get on with it!

He feels it in the pit of his stomach. When Neji sees you leave the hokage’s office, it starts as a familiar upward swoop, warm and strange but not unwelcome. Then he sees Lee next to you, his arms moving animatedly as he speaks. He’s walking so closely to you that every once in a while, his hand brushes your arm. It’s too far away for Neji to make out Lee’s words, but the sound of your laughter carries to him on the breeze. The swoop takes a downturn and sours in his gut.

He’d been about to call out to you, but instead he watches silently. He’s so intent on the two of you that Tenten manages to catch him completely off guard. “She has a cute laugh, doesn’t she?”

“Hm?” He’s startled, but he doesn’t let it show as he turns to see Tenten beside him, a sly grin forming on her lips.

“Your girlfriend,” Tenten says teasingly, nudging his arm with her elbow, “She has a pretty cute laugh. It’s okay to admit it, you know.”

“I know,” He says with a shrug. He’s still too distracted to come up with a sharper reply. Tenten rolls her eyes, and his gaze wanders back to you. His girlfriend. It’s only been official for a matter of weeks, and things really aren’t much different. He still trains and eats and sleeps, but the spaces in between are filled with you. Making time for you hasn’t been as difficult as he’d feared. Somehow, you just fit into his life so seamlessly.

Lee has finally caught sight of his teammates, pulling Neji out of this thoughts. “Tenten!” Lee shouts, his hands raised above his head in an exaggerated wave, “Neji!” When you see him, your face lights up, and you quicken your pace to cover the remaining space between you. You come to a stop at his side, hands clasped behind your back and an easy smile on your lips.

“How was your day?” You ask, and try as he might he can’t stop the small smile that’s forming.

“Fine,” He says, shifting ever so slightly closer to you, “It was nothing exciting or out of the ordinary.” You laugh softly at that. “What about yours? You got your mission assignment?” He notices a loose strand of hair tickling your cheek.

“Yup,” You nod, and he thinks about reaching out to tuck the piece of hair behind your ear, but he doesn’t move. “It’s C rank, so it should be pretty simple,” You shrug, “Especially considering the fact that I’ll have Lee with me,” You turn to his teammate, and now Neji understands why Lee has been practically vibrating behind you.

“Do not worry, Neji!” Lee presses a fist to his chest, “I will keep her safe for the duration of the journey!”

You roll your eyes, giving the well-meaning ninja a nudge with your elbow. “I don’t think I’ll need your protection, Lee,” You chuckle, and Neji lifts his chin a fraction, looking from you to Lee. You can take care of yourself. He’s well aware of that, and he knows Lee is, too. Lee is just, well, Lee.

“It’s a short mission,” You turn to him now, “We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and we should be back by the end of the week. We’re just escorting a small merchant caravan to the Land of Tea. At this time of year, it should be an easy journey. Right, Lee?”

“Right!” Lee stands a little straighter, “Nothing to worry about at all, Neji.”

“I wasn’t worried,” He assures his teammate with a shake of his head, “The two of you are perfectly capable. The caravan will be in good hands.” That much he knows is true. You and Lee have always gotten along and worked together well, so it’s no surprise you’ve been assigned to the mission together.

“Thank you, Neji!” Lee bows his head quickly, “Please, excuse me. I must get to my evening training session with Gai-sensei. Oh, Y/N!” He’s already begun to jog off, but he twists his body to look back at you, “I will see you tomorrow morning! Rest well!” With that, he’s off.

“That guy,” Tenten shakes her head with a sigh, “He certainly is a handful, isn’t he? Good luck on your mission,” She gives you a pointed look, “I know he’s just my teammate, but somehow I feel like I need to apologize for him.”

“No need, Tenten,” You dismiss the comment with a wave of your hand, “Lee’s not so bad. I think we’ll be just fine.”

“Well then, better you than me!” Tenten laughs, “I’ll see you two later, I’ve got to get home. Enjoy your evening!” With a teasing wink and a wave of her hand, she’s gone as well. Neji turns to you, your grin lit by the glow of the setting sun. Finally, he lifts his hand to tuck the stray strand of hair behind your ear. Ever so slightly, you lean into his touch.

“I suppose you want to get home?” He asks, swallowing back the hitch in his throat. He lets his hand fall back to his side now that your hair is back in place.

“Eventually,” You nod, “Let’s take the long way.” Just like that, the two of you fall into step, following the familiar route toward your house. It begins through the bustling streets of Konoha, passing by the shops and homes tucked in together as you walk side by side, the occasional brush of your arms the only point of contact between you. Even so, Neji enjoys the feel of you so close to him and the sound of your voice as you chatter on about the events of your day. Every so often he’ll offer a hum or a smile or a few words in response, but he’s mostly content just listening to you.

The crowd begins to thin toward the edge of town, and the storefronts become more sparse. As the two of you pass by your favorite dumpling shop, he comes to a stop. “Do you want to go in?” He asks, and you make a thoughtful sound before shaking your head.

“No, not today. I’d rather just walk. Is that okay?” You tilt your chin up to look at him.

“Of course,” He nods quickly. He’d like nothing more.

“It’s such a beautiful evening,” You continue, tucking your hand in the crook of his elbow and pulling him along toward the path along the edge of town. Following dutifully along, he hums in agreement. This path eventually winds through the woods, and Neji can’t count how many times you’ve walked it together. The quiet of the woods is one of your favorite places, and one where he can tell you feel more at ease.

Beneath the trees, darkness is falling a little faster than in the open, and the air is cooler. He’s glad to be away from the crowded streets. Wordlessly, you slide your hand down his arm, and when your fingertips brush his palm he slides his fingers between yours.

He thinks back to Tenten’s comment earlier. She often likes to tease him about how reserved he is in showing his affection for you. He knows she doesn’t mean anything by it, but Neji wonders sometimes if it’s something you notice, as well. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold your hand or put his arm around you while you’re in town. It’s just that showing the world something as private and intimate as his feelings for you feels strange to him. He’s far from embarrassed of you, and he hopes that you know that.

The thought crosses his mind for the first time. Perhaps you’d be better suited to someone like Lee. Someone who would dote on you and shower you with affection. Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to shout his admiration for you to the world.

“Neji,” You give his hand a tug, slowing to a stop and turning to look at him, “You’re quiet. Is everything alright?” You give his fingers a gentle squeeze.

“I’m fine,” He says, offering you a small smile. The concern on your face makes him regret getting so lost in his own thoughts and worrying you.

“You had this little frown on your face,” You say softly, letting go of his hand and reaching up to cup his cheek, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

He’s about to brush it off and keep walking, knowing you should get home and rest before tomorrow, but something earnest in your expression stops him. “Can I ask you something? Promise you’ll tell me the truth?” He asks quietly.

“Of course I will,” You nod. “Want to walk and talk?” You gesture to the path ahead, and he nods. He seeks out the comfort of your hand in his again before continuing. Somehow, it feels easier this way.

“I’ve just been thinking,” He begins, shooting a furtive glance your way, “Am I a good boyfriend for you? I know I don’t always have a lot to say, and I spend a lot of time training. Tenten says I don’t pay much attention to you even when we’re together. And... is it enough? Because-”

“Hey,” You interrupt him before he can slip his hand out of yours, coming to a stop again and holding on tighter, “It’s more than enough.” You’re actually smiling at him. “You’re the best boyfriend I could ask for, Neji. Honestly.” You shake your head, and he’s so frozen at your response that he lets you take both of his hands in yours. “I already know you’re serious, and reserved, and quiet, and I like all of those things about you.”

“You do?” He finds his voice only to be skeptical. You laugh softly.

“I do,” You insist. “Y’know, I don’t need you hanging onto me all the time. That’d actually be kind of weird,” You giggle, “I think every single moment with you is special. You’re sweet, and caring, and thoughtful. You make me feel like... like...” You trail off, suddenly ducking your chin nervously.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs, smile growing wider as he drops your hands to cup your face this time, tilting your chin back up with his fingertips so he can meet your gaze again. Something warm and tender is filling his middle, threatening to overflow.

“Happy,” You finish then, softly, “You make me feel happy.”

“You make me feel happy, too,” He whispers, leaning in so that his lips fit perfectly against yours, kissing you softly. “Very happy,” He adds as he pulls away. Even in the semi-darkness, your smile nearly takes his breath away. He’s grateful that you’re alone here, because it gives him the courage to kiss you again.

#lmao idk how to tag #kris writes naruto #Neji Hyuga #neji hyuuga x reader #neji x reader #neji hyuga x reader #hyuuga neji x reader #hyuga neji x reader #naruto #naruto shippuden x reader #probably tag overkill

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years

Text

the shakes | p.d.

summary: “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.” Or, you’re experiencing the terrible side effects of being horny and Poe Dameron knows just how to fix it.

WARNINGS: SMUT (18+), oral (fem!receiving) and just a whole lot of banter, bruh poe is just feastin TONIGHT, sprinkle of plot pairing: poe dameron x fem!reader word count: 5.1k

a/n: uhhh so,,, heh,,, enjoy. bc smut.

“Ow, fuck.”

“You’re stepping on my foot.”

“My bad. It’s not like we’re stuck in a fucking closet.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Yours.”

You breathe out through your nose, struggling to contain your annoyance as you try to back up away from man but no dice. Instead, your back jams awkwardly against the busted control panel.

Said control panel is one of the reasons why you’re stuck in a closet with a man you met only twenty minutes before. Other reasons may or may not include you, the man mentioned, and a certain droid both of you are supposedly waiting on.

“You said that droid is coming?” you grunt as he lets out a heavy sigh against your collarbone. You’ve been squished in a four by four foot supply closet for the past twenty minutes at least and there’s barely enough room as he reaches around to jam the button again. “That’s not going to work,” you say pointedly and he scowls at you, pressing the button again.

“BB-8’s coming,” he growls. “He’ll know I’m missing.”

“Oh, thank the Maker for that!”

“Do you have a problem?”

“Uh, yeah. You’re breathing in my air, in my general vicinity.” A pause, and then: “Can you breathe in any other direction?”

In response, he sucks in a huge breath and lets it out in one big exhale towards the vent above them before glancing down again and arching a brow as if to say, Happy now?

You are most certainly not.

“At least this gives us a moment to breathe. It’s better than being arrested,” he says as if offering a ceasefire. The man leans away from you and you sigh, readjusting the strap of your short dress. His eyes are determinedly staying on yours but even you know they’ve dipped the few times your back was turned. “We can get to know each other.”

Not that you haven’t been thinking about his ass all day either. You spotted him earlier in the markets today, even if he hadn’t noticed you, with that orange and white droid rolling around behind him. Cute and memorable.

What can you say? A good looking guy tends to stick out in a crowd.

“I think I’d rather be arrested,” you say as you lean against your own wall and tug at your dress where you think it doesn’t fit too well. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?”

“You mean, you don’t lock lips with any random handsome stranger?” he fires back. “I’m hurt.”

“Right. You know what I meant.” You nod to the chip in his pocket. “What do you wanna do with that?”

“Top secret, Snatch.”

“Snatch?” you repeat, frowning. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s a secret you can share with me.” At this, you push off the wall and, by the limitations of the closet, stand in his space. Dameron straightens up, an unimpressed smirk printed on his face. “So?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“It could be.”

“It really couldn’t.” His nose brushes against yours and his soft breath tickling at your lips makes a hot spear shoot into your gut. You can taste the sunfruit on his breath, the sweet swipe of his tongue across his lips and your eyes narrow as his chest presses against yours. You don’t budge from your spot as a curl of his dark hair falls into his eyes. Almost automatically and before you can register what you’re doing, you reach up to brush it back and he catches your wrist before you can, grin growing. “I knew I recognized you.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you reply dryly. You shake his hand free from your wrist and back up against the wall, crossing your arms. “I’ve seen you in the markets a few times. The only eye-candy way out here,” you admit grudgingly, thinking of the weird fantasies you had about the guy you dubbed ‘The Man from the Market.’

Not your most graceful or catchy nickname, or your most dignified moment, waking up to soaked panties and a flustered sensation glossing over your skin, but you also didn’t expect to see him again. At this party, no less, of some merc bastard and his friends.

“Likewise,” he says, eyes dropping from yours to your lips and then darting up again. He chews on his lip, as if fighting back that cocky smile before he adds, “You’re the only thing that’s caught my eye in the past two days.”

“Charming.”

“Hm. Poe Dameron.”

You glance at the unopened door, sighing out a, “Good for you,” as you cross your legs at your ankles. Dameron only frowns, turning to the door and you observe the darkness around you. You can’t really make out anything but the solid shape of your fellow closet companion. You can’t even make out his features too well unless he’s extremely close to you, and even then, it’s a guesstimate.

You’re going to kill Yvonna. If she wants the intel, she’s going to have to pay you double the credits.

The darkness seems to crowd in on you and you take a deep breath, the heat of the room getting to you. You feel sweat gather underneath your arms, in the creases of your thighs, and maybe it’s the alcohol getting to you, but you swear your feet aren’t attached anymore. They’ve been strapped to some stupidly high heels to accentuate your legs and it's gathered in a trembling pain in your calves now that you’ve a moment to stop moving. You want to keep moving. It’s the dancing in your stomach, the strange flutter in your lungs, the involuntary clenching between your legs.

Normally, you’d be fine but right now…

God, it might’ve been something you ate. You don’t know, but right now, you feel like you’re a hollowed out piece of scrap.

“C’mon, BB-8,” Dameron murmurs as you let your head drop back against the wall. Your eyes slip shut and it’s not too different from the darkness surrounding.

Maybe it’s cause you haven’t seen Krieg in a moment which is part of the reason you’re here. Hasn’t given you a chance to take the edge off and you’re so full of this energy that needs to be spent or you’re going to die in this closet, in that ship…

You needed to do something.

Your eyes open and see the shape of Dameron’s head.

Or, someone.

Yes, you had kissed him first, pushed him into this closet, let his hands wander, but that was because a guard was coming and you weren’t about to get caught red-handed.

This fucking sucks.

“My friends call me Y/N,” you say glumly, your fingers gingerly tugging at the hem of your skirt. An uncomfortable slickening is occurring down there just thinking about that kiss that occurred in a time when you weren’t stuck in a closet, and you can’t help but think that Dameron was a good kisser.

Give credit where credit is due, all that bullshit.

“Y/N, huh?”

“I said my friends,” you reply pointedly. “Associates and otherwise know me by my callsign.”

“Which is?”

“Bandit.”

“How original,” he mutters almost under his breath and you roll your eyes. The burning in your gut spreads like a fan of fire, following where your knuckles press against your thighs as you try to adjust your dress to fit comfortably, but it’s too damn hot and you shift again, catching his attention. “You okay? Not afraid of the dark, are you?”

“No. It’s just… it’s just hot in here,” you mumble with a scowl directed at your own body betraying the way his arm bracketing you on one side of your head is radiating a heat you want to choke on. “When did it get so hot?”

“When they started serving spiced whiskey?” he tries and, this time, your scowl is directed at him with another poison to kill a small snake. “Maybe you’re having the Shakes.”

“The…” You blink, and you’re not sure if your eyes are adjusting to the blinding darkness or if you can actually see him clear as day when he bends his arm and leans against the wall by his elbow. You don’t move away and his breath, searing, tingles at your sweating neck. The drawling exhales only serve to send more thigh-clenching spasms into your stomach and you shoot him a weak glare. “The what now?”

“The Shakes,” he repeats as if he’s totally unaware of what he’s doing to your body. Maker, he must be able to smell it. There’s no way he can’t because you can feel just the effect of him being so close to you has done and— “You know.”

“I, uh, I really don’t.” If he knew a fraction of what his voice did to your panties, he would not be talking right now. Or he’d be talking more. You don’t know which one you want more.

“Oh, you know, when you haven’t had sex in a long time. I call it the Shakes. Every little thing sets you off, you get cranky and flustered, you’re all wired up and your gut feels like the first time you go into hyperspace.” He sighs, and you hear the quiet thump of his head resting against the wall. Y’know, darling?”

“Hm?” you hum, distracted by the index knuckle running over your cheek.

“It makes you distracted.” You can hear his smirk and you roll your eyes with a scoff. “It’s why I call ‘em the Shakes. Throws everything off, doesn’t it?”

“Stars, you love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

“You know, I see the it often enough that I can recognize any poor soul suffering from a mile away,” he says, ignoring you. “And you’re sick with it, Snatch.” Casually as if he isn’t lazily tracing the shell of your ear with his hand now, he chuckles. You close your eyes as if you’re not critically aware of every desire to pull him into another hard kiss, every little movement of his body from the way he leans to the way his fingers flutter around the curve of your jaw.

You’re a fucking fighter, though. You’re not about to hook up with some random motherfucker in a closet.

Even if the random motherfucker is the hottest thing you’ve seen in who knows how long.

Holy shit, you think your gut might explode with how hard you’re trying to keep it together so you say the first thing you can think of related.

“I didn’t get sick the first time I flew into hyperspace. I didn’t get sick the first time I did an aileron. I, uh, I really don’t get sick when I fly at all,” you say, eyebrows rising skeptically. “Do you?” Confused: “No. I’m a pilot.”

“Oh. And you get the Shakes often, then? Wedged in the seat for hours on end,” you ask conversationally, managing to keep your tone in check. Dameron chuckles at your question, but he pulls back. Your thighs press together and something lurches at his withdrawal, wanting him near again but you silently push those urges down. “If you’re so wise to depart your knowledge with me, that is.”

“You’re a funny girl. Nah, you just get used to it when you’re busy doing other things.”

“Other things?”

“Hm, well, let’s say I have a busy job, and that’s pretty much my whole twenty-four-seven schedule.” He comes close again, close enough that his lips brush against the delicate skin before your ear and shivers shoot down your spine like waves of electricity and you stiffen. You know he hears you suck in your breath, the tiny hitch of your chest and he chuckles again, almost amused.

“I think… it’s…” Maker, please forgive me for my utterly hedonistic will that has the strength of melted bantha cheese. “Fuck, I think it’s physically impossible to ignore that you’re horny.”

“I didn’t say that,” he corrects, lips whispering over your skin. He tilts his head. “I said you get used to it.”

“Well… n-normally, I’m pretty fucking good at that.” You bite your lip and lift your head to the ceiling, thighs pressing together and straightening up but the sound of your dress dragging against the wall gives you away. “When... people aren’t around.”

“People?” he echoes. “You alright, Snatch?” Fuck him. He is definitely enjoying this.

Well, fuck. Might as well, right?

“The Shakes,” you say in a very steady tone that is betrayed by the absolute ocean swimming between your thighs, “may have found residence here.”

“Hm.”

“That funny to you?” you ask, feeling his smug fucking smirk against your cheek and turning to look at him. His dark eyes glint somehow in the non-existent light. You just know it’s there. A cocky spark.

“Explains why you kiss like I’d melt away between your fingers. It was a good kiss, by the way. You’re a good kisser,” he adds, “but more passionate than I thought you’d go for, considering all we were trying to do was evade the guards and that fact that up until that point, you were trying to pickpocket me.”

“I was trying to get the chip. And I think the pushing into the closet was a good touch,” you defend as he rotates around and cages you against the wall. You stare defiantly back. “He went away, didn’t he?”

“But that just implies something.” His elbows are on either side of your head and he leans in, low enough that you can feel the sound of his voice, his sweet breath against your aching mouth. It’s one thing to admit it but another thing to act on it. Maker, are you really about to—

You know what?

Fuck it. Your panties are ruined, you need this fucking annoying heat out of your system and he’s fucking right about one thing: you’re hornier than a Lucrusian fengrill in heat.

What do you have to lose?

“Why just imply something?” you ask innocently as his lips brush against the corner of your mouth. You sigh in relief when the heat seems to sink, spreads through your body instead, and his shadow brushes against your skin as he moves lower, lips finding your chin, the curve of your jawbone. “Oh, fuck…” you choke out, your hands finding his hair automatically, threading through the dry locks and his name slips out in a breathless moan. “Fuck, Dameron.”

His body jerks at the sound of his name coming from you and your eyes widen when his hips press flush against your thigh. His bulge is hot and hard, the fabric of his pants silky against your bare skin and you let out a soft sound when he nudges your head up. His hands run over the walls, find your shoulders, your waist, tugging at fabric that sticks to your skin before continuing elsewhere, and you’re not even breathing as he licks at the pulse point, the sweat, the alcohol glazing your skin.

“Shit,” he breathes against your neck, teeth running along the vein as his hand sneaks underneath the hem of your dress, skirts around the edge of your panties and it’s the brush across the absolutely soaked spot that does him in, does you in because you know he felt you clench around nothing. “Fuck, I can feel it—”

“Shut up,” you groan, wrenching his head up and smashing your lips against his. He sighs into your mouth, hips grinding against yours as you take a handful of his curls. You yank him back, your lungs seizing for air. Everything tastes like sugar and starfruit as you push him down to his knees, your calves burning. “My feet. Ow. Fuck these heels, honestly.”

“I got ‘em.” His hands immediately find your ankles, running smooth circles into your skin but before you can tell him the strap is on the outer side of your leg, he lifts your foot up. A protest stammers in your throat as he reaches up and presses you against the wall with a large hand flat against your tummy, but he merely smirks against your thigh, letting your knee hang off his broad shoulder. “It’s the Shakes, darling. Makes everything excruciating.”

“Dameron—”

“Relax,” he drawls as your back meets the wall flush and cold. You grab onto the handle of one of the mechanical drawers, wincing when his hand digs into the sore muscle on its way up to stabilize your thigh just as the other on your stomach travels down. “Got a nice view, don’t you?”

“Would be better,” you grit out, “if I could see.”

“Need me to pull out my glow-in-the-dark condoms for you?”

“Dameron.”

“Kidding. Well, only half. I do have some back on the ship.”

“Dameron.”

“Alright, alright. Next time.”

You can’t even see the silhouette of his face anymore, gone underneath the hem of your dress, but you shake your head anyway, lip caught between your teeth as you feel his hand slide up and down the one calf still planted firmly on the ground.

You take a breath and let your head fall back, your ravaged neck pulsing, your entire world spinning.

It happens all at once. When his grip on the thigh resting on his shoulder tightens, when he lifts your other leg over his shoulder, when he surges forward, his lips finding your soaked panties immediately, teeth nipping lightly at the fabric.

Your entire system shuts down.

He noses up higher and your thighs wrap around his head, ankles hooking. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clutches at your ass really, and your fingers in his hair tighten when the dress begins to ride up higher, revealing more of the gorgeous man between your legs.

Oh, how you wish there was some sort of light in here so you can just—

There’s one shaky breath, then another, and there’s no movement which you’re only painfully aware of and your eyes open—when did you even close them?—as you look down. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wish I could see you, darling,” he breathes, kissing the top of your slit and sending a warm shiver through your gut. “Fuck. The way you’d look when I finally chase the Shakes out of you—I’d ruin you. Ruin you and then some. Eat for days.” And then his teeth return, barely skimming the soft flesh of your navel as they hook on the waistband of your panties and tug, his breath following down your thigh as he works on pulling it down, slowly, luxuriously, his lips soft as they press teasing kisses in the crease of your thighs, land tiny nips to the juncture of your hips. You spasm at every turn, wiggle and squeeze until you’re sure you’re cutting off the circulation in his neck, but he doesn’t give any indication that he cares.

No, he just holds you against the wall, your legs tossed over his shoulders, and grins.

You don’t know how you know.

You just do so you don’t know why you stutter out, “You g-good?” anyway.

“Fucking perfect.”

Maybe it’s so you can hear that voice, low and deep in his chest, between your legs.

He leans forward and his nose bumps into your clit, and, as if on reflex, a warm, strong tongue darts out and licks a solid stripe through your heat. “Fuck, darlin’.”

Definitely so you can hear that voice between your legs.

“You’re heaven, y’know that?” he mumbles but you can’t quite focus, your hands gripping at anything you can—one in his hair, the other on that handle and your back arches when he just goes for it, mouth to clit contact, tongue probing and licking and stroking all at once. “Think ‘m gonna die if you don’t drown me first.”

“W-way to i-inflate a girl’s—fuck…” Your voice goes hoarse midway, as if he sucks it out of you, and you can feel the air in your lungs going with it as your back arches off the steel wall. You can feel his jaw, sharp and strong and warm, flexing against your thighs as he works, tongue velvet, lips teasing and he inhales deeply as your legs tighten around his head.

His fingers dig deeper into your ass and you choke back a pathetic moan when his teeth raze your swollen bud lightly, just enough to tease you and keep you on edge. Everything is cotton. The shadows, his hair, his rough hands that are full of calluses you don’t know the meanings of.

Your nails scratch his scalp, tug him impossibly closer and you’re biting through your lip right now, your moans bundling in your chest as he pushes deeper, pushes you closer against the wall as if he wants more of you but can’t quite reach and you want to just let him continue, let him have his fun because you’re sure he can go down on you for hours but—

You’re only human, and the tide comes so quickly you fucking know for sure two things: Dameron knows what he’s doing and Dameron knows what the fuck the Shakes are.

A slight brush of his tongue at your clit and you’re gone. You’re on that downhill slope that sends a spiral of chain events through your body. Your thighs lock around his head and your fingers tighten as lightning shivers and lances through your limbs, sending your heart up into your throat and pulsing between your legs. Your gut clenches, so desperate to hold on that you can’t even breathe, that the only thing you can stutter out is some bare semblance to his name followed by ramblings of “fuck” slewn with more “close… close… so, so close…”

Your eyes are screwed shut, your mind scrambling to concoct an image—an image that would be reality if the lights were on and you can almost see it. Poe Dameron, with his dark eyes, raven hair, plush lips and a beard that scratches against your skin, on his knees with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his hands, huge and veined and strong, grabbing at what flesh he can, head gone underneath the hem of your dress and you can only feel what he’s doing—

You don’t even recognize him chuckling until you can feel the vibration of it through your knees, against your leg.

“Darlin’,” he pants, drawing back just enough to breathe and he tilts his chin just enough to press a sloppy, slick kiss against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and he laughs again, entertained at the desperate little whine that comes outta your throat because the image would’ve been just enough if he kept going for a second more, “gotta let me fuckin’ breathe if you want me to stay down here.”

“That’s…” You struggle for words because you’re heaving so hard, so out of breath because you didn’t even know you weren’t breathing for several seconds. “That’s—it’s, oh, shit.” Your thought process is disturbed by another teasing lick at your swollen folds. “Dameron, if you don’t let me just fucking—”

He nips at the juncture between your thigh and your soaking, swollen cunt.

“Watch it.” You retaliate with a sharp tug of his hair and he only laughs again, soothing the bite mark with a few gentle kisses.

“Just keeping you on edge, darling,” he whispers, peeking up from underneath your dress for the first time in what feels like hours. You run your hand blindly down his face and feel the slickness on his chin, swiping it off but his teeth catch your thumb, and then it’s his tongue wrapping around your fingers, too, sending fluttering shivers through your stomach. He licks them dry before he lets go and your hand finds his hair again as he sighs, disappearing between your legs again, and you barely hear it, a nearly indecipherable mumble that sounds more like it’s coming from inside your head that his own mouth, “Anyone ever told you… you taste like heaven?”

“And how would you know?” you gasp, feeling a little giggly yourself as the crest begins to rise, your chin tilted up as his tongue flattens against your slit. He hums to himself, the curve of his jaw brushing against your tender thigh as he pulls back just enough to speak.

“‘Cause I just tasted it, darling. And I know I could just feast on you for days.” Your entire body tenses as he laughs into your cunt, the ripples of it against your sensitive skin shooting through your spine and you’re on that downward spiral again as his smiling mouth attaches to your bud and his tongue dips into you again.

You’re dripping. The sounds are obscene, filthy to the nth degree, and you’re so close that it aches. You want to thrust but you can’t risk toppling the man you’re resting on the shoulders of, but at the same time, you know he’s teasing the ever loving shit out of you with his shallow passes, his fluttering kisses.

Taking his sweet time, indulging in it. You’re pretty sure if he could make do on his promise to eat you out for however long you’d let him, he would, but you’re half-aware of where you are, that the droid is supposedly coming, and having half-a-brain is half-a-brain too much to lose all common sense.

“Dameron,” you whisper, and he pauses, looking up and you wish you could see his face, the face of a man who stopped at the mere utterance of his name that it sends a thrill through your overstimulated system. “Please.”

There are no further words needed.

He works you up to it slowly, until your fingers are clamped so hard and you’re seeing stars despite there being nothing but shadows around you. The only sound is the wet slop of his mouth working against your drenched pussy, your moans and his heavy breathing that fans out across your navel.

It’s when his tongue pushes so much deeper, and curls, that your thighs clamp down around his head and your fingers are gripping so hard you’re not sure you’re going to make it without a few nail cuts in your palms that you know the Shakes are gone.

Your entire world flips as your vision goes black. Your fingers curl tighter, your thighs begin to quiver, and everything snaps inside you. Your back arches off the wall and you feel like you scream but it’s because your voice is so utterly broken that it seems so as he continues to drink through the floods, drawing out the aftershocks for as long as possible and the euphoria that shoots through you like a blaster is both molten and cool as spring water.

Your vocabulary is nothing but his name, soft breathes of “fuck” and “shit”, and the unrelenting “thank you”.

Your heart rattles against your ribs, beating so quickly you think it might burst from your chest and you feel another quivering sigh escape your lips as Dameron gives you a few more gentle sucks to your messy centre before he’s slowly running his hands up your thighs, to your knees, and gently sliding your legs off back to the floor.

Your body is trembling so hard that your knees nearly give in immediately, but, luckily, Dameron’s hands find your waist and ease you to the ground just as you let go of the handle of the drawer.

“Fuck,” you croak ungracefully once your ass is on solid ground and you gulp down nothing but air as you try to open your eyes. It’s not that different from your closed vision and there are a few white stars blinding you in the dark, but you can still make out the shape of your partner, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand before he’s leaning over your leg to check the control panel. It’s then that you can feel it, pressed against your shin. He’s hard as a fucking rock. “Y-you need—” But your voice is a garbled mess, exhausted from the alcohol and the Shakes, and he turns to you, fingers dancing up your calves before slowly pulling your ruined panties back up your thighs.

“Up,” he orders quietly, and you lift your hips up enough for him to slip them firmly back onto your hips. “And it’s fine. I told you. I’m good with the Shakes.”

“Yeah, but, y’know…” you mumble, “could be good.” You can feel him smiling as he leans over to kiss your neck blindly, still finding that tender juncture of your shoulder. You grin, your hands finding his shoulders and roaming his back, feeling the curved muscle of a military man. You know his type.

Continuing downward, down his sides…

“You do owe me,” he murmurs and you nod as he pulls back just as the sound of beeping on the other end of the door.

“Mhm, don’t wanna stay in debt,” you say just as the sound of whirring fills the heated silence and your grin grows as you expectedly raise one of your hands to shield the light about to fill their little closet. You pull your other hand away and you begin pulling the loops out on your heels, sliding your aching feet out of those torture shoes. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again in the future, huh? Pay you back then.”

The door slides open and you stand as he scrambles to his feet as well. At least, you can see his features clearly, and you grin because he’s just as handsome as the first time you saw him.

Absolute score.

With your fingers hooked on your shoes, you wipe the bit of slick he missed on the corner of his mouth. He grabs your hand before it drops, pressing a cheeky kiss to the center of your palm and you roll your eyes.

“That’s fine with me,” he replies, squinting against the light and you tap his cheek. “See you around, Flyboy.” You flash him one last smile before leaving the closet first and walking down the hall. Your knees are still trembling and you feel like you’re a complete mess as you stagger through the metal hallway. Exhaustion is telling you to just go the fuck to sleep right then and there, but you can’t. Not until you get back to your ship and get into hyperspace.

As soon as you’ve rounded a corner, you run with everything you have.

It’s only a matter of time before Poe Dameron realizes that the chip that was in his pocket is making its way to another buyer.

Yvonna totally owes you.

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

opening weekend

part 1 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 1.9k

warnings: none (yet)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU! That no one but me and @beautyagegoodnesssize asked for but I’m telling you... just give it a try. Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the groundwork for the series is laid: Frankie is a catcher, and your grandpa is the biggest fan of his team.

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was warm on the back of you neck and it was the bottom of the fourth. It was loud with chatter and announcements, music and cheers, and there were flashing advertisements and seas of merchandise – a typical opening weekend. If you were being honest, it wasn’t really your thing. Or it was, but it shouldn’t have been.

The man beside you was beaming with absolute joy, barely sitting as he leaned forward eagerly as if hoping desperately that it would bring him onto the field with the players.

It was always like this, every few weeks, every summer for years. His name was James, and years and years ago you’d grown close and he’d shared the single constant in his life: the game, and his team. It became your way to stay close, throughout all the chaos of the world, you always made time to make it to as many home games as you could to sit by his side and hear his stories and soak up the wonder in his eyes as he watched the ball and the bats and the sun on the grass. Season passes were his gift to you every year, and today was more exciting than normal, because it was finally time to pay him back.

He loved this team. Of course, it was constantly changing, but for such an old man, he could remember all their names and numbers and statistics. He collected the cards and loved the boys so much it was almost like they were his grandkids.

“No autographs,” he would tell you. “They’re already giving us their best, who are we to ask for more?” and you would melt a little, inside. He was careful not to idolize them, clicking his tongue when bad headlines would come out, constantly reminding you they were just humans, “Just boys! Leave them alone! They’re figuring it out,” he’d say, angrily. It made you laugh, how much he cared about them, and it warmed you heart.

“You want some nachos, Jimbo?”you asked, standing as the ads played and the mascots ran out into the field for extra entertainment. “They’ve got some picked jalapeños with your name on ‘em.” He squinted up at you and you shifted, blocking the sun from his sweet, wrinkled face. A nod and a smile was all you needed before you caught his hand, reminding him to let you pay. You shuffled towards the steps, trying to avoid the drinks and snacks and knees of the people in your row, whispering excuse me’s and apologies. Once you made it to the outsides of the arena, you ducked behind one of the looking pillars, checking your phone before making your way to the quieter, less commercialized area. A security guard checked your phone and ID, and you were ushered into a large office, show awards and photos and expensive amenities filling it to the brim. A man was leaning against a impossibly giant desk, an air of hurry about him, and he shook your hand.

After hasty introductions, you jogged his memory, reminding him that you had submitted an application and been chosen by the board to have your grandfather honored by the team, and today was the day.

He nodded absentmindedly and began to wave you off, ears listening to other words, you were sure. They assured you a team of security would come and escort him to the meeting area when it was time and you said quick thank-you's before stopping.

“Sir, one last thing,” you stood your ground against the rush, determined to be heard. “He’s not just a crazy fan, he’s a sweet old man. I know this is routine for you guys but…” finally, the man in the suit met your eyes. “Please remember how special this is to him.” And he nodded, a swallow pushing down his throat, making his Adam’s apple bob. You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but this was important to you.

As you walked back, you got the biggest tray of nachos you could find, and tried not to trip over your own shoes.

It was a beautiful day.

Frankie was hot and sweaty and tired and having a great time. It was the first real game of the season and he hadn’t gotten sick of the noise… Just yet. People were cheering, spirits were high, and for now, Santi was pitching right into his glove.

Just outside the dugout, he and the others paused, hearing the announcer powering up for something unique. Normally, they tuned it all out, but for these, it was basically required that they pay attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today with us we have a very special –” he blared, but it faded to the background. Francisco had been told, with everyone this morning, that the board had chosen a submission of a dedicated fan to honor, someone they’d all have to say hello to, but he hadn’t expected… this.

All over the screens around him and front and center of the megatron was a shocked but beaming elderly man. He wasn’t screaming, or decked head to toe in merch, just smiling, with a tshirt design Frankie barely recognized from years and years ago. It had been washed enough times the team’s logo was barely visible, and that alone was awesome. More importantly, he was tugging at the hand of the most beautiful woman Frankie had maybe ever seen.

Of course, he’d seen lots of beautiful people, it was one of the stranger side effects of his job, but you… were something else. Maybe it was the joy on your face as you nodded, eyes fixed on your grandfather, maybe it was the way the sunlight was hitting your hair just right either way, his heart did a little flip in his chest, and on his shoulders the padding felt suddenly light. He was at loathe to put on his helmet, knowing the face cage would obstruct his view of you, but then you were gone, the ads replacing your face, and one of his friends was giving him a shove towards his corner.

It wasn’t until a ball was mere feet from his face that he remembered he was supposed to be catching it.

Catch, catch, walk, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

And then in a daze, he was making his way to the locker room, with a crowd of trudging cleats and sweaty scents, the roar of the crowds behind him.

Claps on shoulders, showers, and banter passed, and they all filed like sheep into a big, open room. The energy was different, though, less strained than it might have been, if it were an obsessive teenager, or an arrogant know it all.

Frankie’s ear pricked when he heard one of his teammates say, “Hope that girl comes along, she was hot,” all jokes and winks and maybe a crude hand motion or two. There was a twist in his gut, which was absolutely ridiculous, but he didn’t have time to ponder it, because suddenly the door was opening again and there you were.

The main event, of course, was the kindly man at your side, and Frankie tried to seem natural and he strained to see around his friends.

The news reporter was chattering, and he was vaguely aware that everyone was watching the manager give his speech – everyone but him and you. He watched, transfixed, as you tenderly tucked your abuelo's hand into your elbow.

Frankie was busy thinking he’d never quite felt so comfortable in this room before, never seen someone who made him wish he was at the front of the crowd, when your eyes were suddenly in his.

You gave him a half-smile and your fingers wiggled in the tiniest of waves.

It was just for him, not everyone else, and Frankie gulped, too pleased and too shocked to react properly.

When it was his turn to talk to the pair of you, Frankie felt more nervous than he had this morning, walking onto the field. He didn’t even know your name – something he begrudged the staff – and yet he was somehow aching to make a good impression, on you both. But then your abuelito stole his hat and ruffled his hair and he was grinning, and it was a beautiful day.

When he walked back to the lockers, he was pretty sure his heart stayed right in that room, somewhere next to a beaming little old man.

The two of you went separate ways but not at all the same as you’d been that morning.

Frankie ducked out of the after party at Tom's bnb. The boys were rambunctious and loud and more importantly they kept talking about you and he just didn’t want to hear any of it.

The memory of the little wave of your hand was burrowing into his chest, into his stomach, feeding him like food after a long, hot summer day.

Santiago’s footsteps were familiar, even off the sand and the grass of the field. His hand was warm on Frankie’s shoulder, pulling him slowly back to reality.

“Everything okay, hermano?” His voice was equal parts genuine and teasing.

Frankie shrugged. What could he say? He didn’t even know your name, and even if he did, so what? It's not like his mind had already created a scenario in which he'd chased after you in the long, curved corridors and you had beamed, happy to see him, and touched his hand with yours.

It’s not like he was kicking himself for letting you walk out the door without trying, anything. Not like he hated hearing the other guys joke about how innocent and sweet you looked. He certainly couldn’t explain how possessive he felt over a girl he’d only sort of met.

So he ignored the thump in his chest and just looked a the stars and shrugged.

As for you, James was seated next to you, trying to start sentences and getting overwhelmed with joy. Your hands slid over the steering wheel, listening to him as much as you could, filling in the ends, mind still on the handsome player who’s eyes had followed you through from over the sea shoulders and hats.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” he asked, pulling you back to reality.

You hummed noncommittally in response. Lying to him was absolutely out of the question so you pondered your options, while he watched you, amused.

“What’s the name of the catcher?” you asked, finally, feeling heat in your face as you remembers his broad shoulders and the twitch in his hands.

His laugh was adorable and mischievous and you felt almost silly. You weren’t a little girl watching t-ball, after all, that was a real, actual man.

A real man with dark, deep eyes, and tan skin and fluffy curls.

You shook your head.

“Never… mind.” He was also undoubtedly also a man with a life and a girlfriend or wife, and no lingering thoughts of you.

James laughed again and dropped the subject.

But you walked him into his home and he grasped your hand with newfound determination. He winked and whispered and you felt a thump in your chest.

“Francisco Morales.”

translations:

abluelo: grandfather

abuelito: literally, little grandfather, it’s affectionate

hermano: brother

taglist: @fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #catfish x you #triple frontier #baseball au #triple frontier baseball au #maybe i don't know people

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and-then-there-was-whump · 2 years

Text

She has to be bluffing...

Okaaaay so I know I’ve got a ton of other stuff to write, but this idea bit me and wouldn’t let go until I got it all down hah

CW: held at gunpoint, threats, graphic descriptions of blood and injury

“Bravo, Hero,” Supervillain sneered, gesturing for Villain to move in closer with the gun he had aimed directly at Hero’s head. Villain’s expression was grim and resolute as he buried the muzzle into Hero’s hair. “You came so close this time! But we’ve had our fun, and I’ve got some new toys to stash - ” here she hefted the duffel bag over her shoulder “ - so I’ll be dashing off now. Villain will play with you instead, don’t worry.” She snickered, turning to walk away.

Hero raised a brow. Now he knew for sure that he’d been able to catch Supervillain off guard if the only backup she currently had to throw at him was her brother. The villain was far from amateur, certainly, but Hero doubted the man even had powers, let alone enough to rival his own in a fight. Supervillain was surely just banking on Villain being able to buy her enough time to vanish.

As Supervillain continued to retreat, a confident swagger to her steps, Hero decided he’d come too close to not take advantage of the situation he was in; too many lives depended on him retrieving what was in that bag, before she could put it to use.

So, ignoring the niggle of disquiet deep in his gut, Hero wrenched the gun out of Villain’s grip, slammed his elbow directly into his nose (to the tune of a sickening crunch and a startled cry of pain), and then spun Villain in front of him so that Hero’s arm was wrapped tightly about his throat while his other hand pressed the gun right against his skull. The whole maneuver took less than two seconds.

“Alright, Supervillain, not another step!” Hero called out sharply. Villain clawed at the arm compressing against his throat, struggling to take in breaths between his compressed windpipe and the blood that practically gushed from his nose. It sounded like he was trying to say something, as well, but could only sputter and wheeze.

Hero quashed the guilt that threatened to bloom at the desperate sounds; he reasoned Villain had this a long time coming. In any case, it wasn’t as though he were actually going to shoot him. But Hero was no saint, and Supervillain knew that - maybe the risk would be worth it if this were any other henchman of hers, but Hero was certain no such chances would be taken with her little brother.

Much to his satisfaction (and relief), Supervillain did halt in her tracks, but when she turned to face them Hero didn’t see even a brief flash of worry for Villain in those snake-like eyes, just the same easy smirk on her face as when she’d walked away.

Hero growled, “Put the bag down, Supervillain.” He roughly shook the smaller man in his grip for emphasis, and Villain managed a strangled snarl, though his struggles were becoming progressively weaker. Hero hoped they’d be able to settle this soon.

He supposed he wasn’t entirely surprised when Supervillain snorted. “Or you’ll, what, shoot him? Let’s be honest, Hero, even if you did have it in you - I’ve got the bigger bargaining chip,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe if you threw in a couple billion?”

Hero couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping. “Dollars?! You really are crazy! I swear to god, I will blow his brains out if you don’t drop that bag right now, Supervillain!” he shouted, outraged. Villain was almost limp against him now, still gasping shallowly, but Hero couldn’t relent his hold on him even a fraction, or Supervillain would see right through his threat. His forearm felt wet and warm from Villain’s blood, and worry began to mount unbidden.

Supervillain rolled her eyes, the bag still firmly in her grip. She sighed, sounding vaguely disappointed. “Shame. I’ve gotta be honest, I don’t know that the effort it took to steal these beauties - not to mention all that they could do for me - is quite worth having him back, useful as he is,” she said with a shrug. “So, if that’s all you’ve got to offer…?”

Hero narrowed his eyes in disbelief. Surely she must be bluffing, not believing him capable of killing point blank. He supposed risking the life of her only living blood relative as part of that bluff was a pretty ‘supervillain’ thing to do, but it still disturbed him deeply to witness it.

At his silence, Supervillain gave another little shrug before turning once again to walk away, her pace much quicker this time. “Do what you have to, then. See you real soon, Hero,” she called over her shoulder, tone almost chipper.

With a surge of renewed anger, both for himself and now for Villain of all people, Hero fired a shot into the air, certain the sound would at the very least get them a glance of concern, or alarm, or something from the Supervillain that proved the life of her brother held some sentimental value to her.

If anything, Supervillain broke into a run, disappearing around a corner as if her only concern was making a quick getaway now that Hero had dealt with Villain and could pursue her freely.

As Hero stared after her incredulously, Villain, who’d become rather still, began to convulse against him as muffled coughs rattled deep in his chest. Hero quickly released his hold on the villain, keeping a grip on his arm more to steady him than out of caution as Villain doubled over and coughed freely, blood spray spattering onto the floor before thicker globs followed. The fit lasted a good couple of minutes, with Villain desperately sucking in gasps of air between painful, wet-sounding coughs.

Hero grimaced and held onto him all throughout, even as Villain ran out of strength to stand and brought both of them sinking to the ground. The guilt would not be quelled now, not after seeing what he’d done to the man - even if some would say he deserved that and more for his role in all his sister’s evildoing over the years.

Hero couldn’t imagine what Villain must be feeling now, having essentially been abandoned to die by someone who was supposed to care, and even that fact added to his guilt - if Hero hadn’t pulled this ultimatum stunt, Villain might never have discovered just how little his life was worth to his sister.

“Hey, c’mon,” Hero said to the shaking man after another minute, unable to keep his voice from softening, “we’ll get you patched up at the Base. C’mon, you’ll be fine, it’s just a broken nose. Won’t even be crooked when we’re done,” he added with a half-smile.

Villain slowly rose to his feet with Hero’s help, and Hero handcuffed him as gently as he could. The man’s sharp features had begun to swell, face red and wet with both blood and tears. He said nothing on the way to Hero’s car, the only sounds coming from him being his raspy breathing and the occasional sniffle.

Hero couldn’t keep ignoring the ugly elephant in the room. He chuckled somewhat awkwardly as he said, “She really saw right through me, huh? I mean, she knew I wasn’t going to...uh, y’know. Just like you knew. I could never, she was right; I just really needed that stuff back, and I thought…” Hero cleared his throat. “Well. She - she definitely knew I wouldn’t go through with it. That sister of yours, huh?”

Hero watched Villain for a reaction, but there was none. He did notice fresh tears had begun to spill down his face, though, and he sincerely hoped with all he had that they were only out of physical pain.

#hoo boy this was a long one #i tried to shorten it but #i really like it this way #thanks for reading!!#tw blood #tw gun use #villain whump #villain whumpee #supervillain whumper #in a way #hero caretaker #also in a way

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hongism · 4 years

Text

storge - s. mingi

➻ genre: angst, fluff, light smut ➻ rating: M ➻ word count: 15.6k ➻ pairing: mingi x fem!reader ➻ summary: Best friends do everything together, right? ➻ warnings: language, mild smut, fingering, handjobs, oral sex (explicit m, mentioned f), thigh riding, kink exploration, bad practices, learning ➻ colours of love | part one

“I have a feeling that this mild, quiet happiness will last until December. - juansen dizon”

“So, you aren’t dating him?”

You sigh at the question, the simple string of words hitting your ears and grating against them in a way that causes annoyance to bubble in your gut. Instead of responding with words of your own, you simply shake your head at the girl who lingers at your side. She’s the third girl to approach you and ask you this question in the past week. If you’re honest, it’s starting to frustrate you to a point where you’re close to making a public announcement about your nonexistent love life so that no one would disturb you again.

With that being said, your best friend Mingi loves the constant barrage of questions coming your way. Each time you report back to him about which person asked you the same exact question that day, he gets giddier and giddier. You thought university was supposed to be a step up from the typical high school antics. Yet, you’ve been proven wrong day in, day out thanks to the overwhelming amount of love that girls seem to have for your best friend.

“No, we’re just friends. Best friends.”

“Oh, amazing! Could you please mention me or something to him then?”

“Why don’t you do it yourself? I’m sure he’d appreciate it a lot more.”

If only it were so easy to get rid of them that way. You use the same response on every person that comes your way, and none of them seem to be able to grasp the underlying message you’re sending their way. The “please get the fuck away from me, I just want to make it through one class without being asked about my relationship status with my best friend” always flies over their heads, but over time you’ve come to understand it. The whole notion of a girl being close friends with a guy is a concept that people tend to struggle with, apparently. So even though both you and Mingi find it quite ordinary, the people observing from the outside jump to conclusions before considering what your relationship actually is. (He calls it one of the perks of being friends with him, but you only see it as a detriment instead).

It isn’t a surprise that when you approach your friend less than an hour later, the first thing that he comments on is the expression on your face, no doubt one of disdain or exhaustion.

“Long day already?” He laughs as you drop your bag on the floor and sit in the seat across from him. His smile only stretches further when you glare at him from across the table. “How many today?” You scoff at his presumptive question, and even though he’s correct, you don’t want to give him the pleasure of being right quite yet.

“Remember the cute guy from our psychology class?”

Mingi rolls his eyes at the question, shaking his head ever so slightly. You silently wonder if he’s merely disappointed that you didn’t mention any people thirsting after him.

“He’s only cute to you. You have terrible taste in men.” He dodges the attack you send his way, smoothly moving out of the way of your arms reach, and sticks his tongue out at you. “I’m better looking than him though, right?”

“No!” You protest as you try to extend your hand further to actually make contact this time, but your efforts fail thanks to the unfortunate length of your arms. Mingi laughs at your struggles for a moment before leaning closer to let you smack his shoulder. You take the bait, grateful to have the opportunity now before he takes it away from you later.

“Well, are you gonna do anything about it or just let it sit as you always do?”

You fall back against the chair, fingers drumming against the table as you look up at Mingi with pursed lips.

“I know what that means.”

“I’m going to do som—”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to watch him from afar like you always do and secretly pine after him in the desperate hopes that he might notice you or talk to you at some point without putting in any effort into making an actual move yourself.”

“Okay, wow, fine.”

“I’m only speaking the truth.”

“I don’t have people lining up left and right for me. I don’t have it as easy as you do, so that’s not fair.”

“Whoever said I have it easy?”

“People come to me every damn day asking for your number and if I can tell you about them!”

Mingi cocks his head to the side, blinking at you with his wide eyes for a moment. The sudden silence catches you off guard; Mingi rarely sits still without making some sort of ruckus, leaving you to be the calmer, more level-headed one. In all honesty, you expected him to laugh and be a little smug about the attention. You blink back at him, lips still parted slightly.

“Anyways…” You bend down to grab something out of your backpack, but Mingi stops you with what he says next.

“Why won’t you initiate for once?”

You hesitate, glancing at Mingi from the corner of your eye.

“Why won’t you actually go on a date with one of these people?” You counter. You try to fight the embarrassment that creeps up your neck, but it’s too late, and the heat floods your cheeks before you can duck your head again. Mingi is fully aware of why you can’t initiate. Still, you’ve always refused to admit it, even though he’s in the exact same position.

“None of them have really piqued my interest, I guess.” He shrugs.

“That’s shallow.”

“Well, it’s better than leading them on, isn’t it?” Mingi asks, and you have to agree with him. You would certainly rather have someone be upfront about their feelings instead of leading the other on. After a few moments of silence, he continues,

“Anyways, you didn’t answer the question. Why won’t you just initiate?”

The heat on your cheeks deepens even though you were expecting the question. You try to duck your head to keep Mingi from seeing your embarrassment, and yet he keeps pressing his chin forward, so you have no chance to hide your face.

“I can’t,” you hiss through your teeth.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to initiate things since I’ve never had experience with anything that falls in that spectrum. You know that.”

Admitting it out loud provides zero relief from the anxiety pumping through your veins at the moment. Still, the slight frown that creeps onto Mingi’s face sends you further into a frenzy. You tug a notebook out of your bag, slamming it down onto the desk before you, causing some of the other students within the library to send pointed glares your way.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to learn quickly then?” Mingi suggests, adding a slight shrug to accentuate his words.

“Is it that easy though?” You peer at Mingi with wide eyes for a moment before shaking your head. “Why am I asking you? You don’t know anything either.”

Mingi does nothing to defend himself, instead offering a slight shrug in response. You glance down at your notebook and thumb through the pages until you reach a blank one. Mingi’s hand hits the page. You jerk your head up to look him in the eye, and a hint of playfulness lingers behind his brown eyes, and you narrow your eyes immediately. You know that look, years of friendship have taught you that it can only mean one thing.

Mingi has an idea.

And when Mingi has an idea, you never end up liking it much.

Nothing against your best friend or anything, but he isn’t renowned for coming up with the smartest ideas. He grins at you, gums flashing as he exposes his teeth, and you frown at his enthusiasm.

“No,” you say preemptively, ready to shoot down whatever idea Mingi has.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“It doesn’t matter. My answer is no.”

“Why?”

“I know whatever idea you have is a bad one.”

“That’s not true.”

“Name the last good idea you had.”

“Automatic page-turners so you don’t have to turn the page yourself.”

“That’s not — Mingi, no. How hard is it to turn a page?”

“Harder than you think.”

“It’s not that hard, dumbass.”

A brief moment of silence then— “That’s what she said, ha.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“You love me.”

“I’m regretting everything now.”

“Look, Y/N, listen for two minutes. That’s all I as—”

“Your time starts now. 120, 119, 118, 117—”

“Okay, chill! Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.”

You sigh, propping your elbows up onto the table and staring forward at Mingi with little interest.

“Alright, so I have an idea. Don’t say no yet, just hear me out for a minute. You could… you know, try it out on me.”

“Excuse me?” You squint, eyes meeting Mingi’s brown ones, and he dodges eye contact in favor of looking at the table.

“Since you’re scared to initiate things, you could test it out on me.”

“Mingi, you don’t have any experience either. This guy has probably has had twenty girlfriends in his lifetime and a hundred times more experience than both of us combined.”

“A hundred times zero is zero.”

“Mingi.”

“Hear me out. Th-there’s this girl. I, uh, I’ve had my eye on her for a while… but I can’t initiate anything. I-I don’t have any experience either so that’s holding me back from doing anything. So, why not… why not just learn together?” Your friend glances up at you, eyes darting away as soon as he meets your eyes and clears his throat.

You let the silence settle and mull over the suggestion. You do everything with him, and you’ve done that since you were in middle school. The list of firsts you’ve had with him is not that long, and yet the offer of experiencing more firsts with him… You examine your friend’s face, putting a bit too much effort into analyzing his features. He isn’t bad looking — not in the slightest — and there’s a good reason why so many girls are chasing after him.

Tall? Check.

Sweet? Check.

Funny? Check.

Broad shoulders, large hands that dwarf yours, and thighs that you’ve definitely thought about a hell of a lot more than a best friend ought to think about? Check, check, and check.

Besides, you trust him, and he’s never done anything particularly shady (except for that one time when he told your high school sophomore year crush that you thought his ass was hot). You honestly trust him with your life. What’s the harm in trusting him with this too?

He’s still trying to avoid looking in your direction. A slight redness has risen to his cheeks, and he seems more unsure about the idea than you are, even though he’s the one who suggested it.

There's one glaring issue that's causing red lights of warning to go off in your mind. You love Mingi, there's no doubt about that, and he's your closest friend for a reason. That doesn't include sexual attraction, however, and despite thinking about his looks (and thighs), you made an executive decision a few years ago that meant you would never go after your friend with sexual intent in mind.

His soft-spoken suggestion is hesitant yet convincing, and you blatantly ignore the warning signs in favor of the pull of Mingi's words.

"I mean... why not give a try?" You shrug in attempts to hide the embarrassment beginning to creep up your neck.

Mingi freezes in place. A moment of silence passes between you, your discomfort grows exponentially, and you regret saying the words now. Then Mingi snaps his chin up, dark eyes searing holes into your own.

"Really?" He asks, lip trembling with the syllables.

"Yes?" You answer. You curse yourself for pushing the questioning lilt to your tone, chin tilting to the side slightly.

"Are you being serious about this though?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you really… you know, wanna… test things out with me?"

"That's why I said yes, Mingi."

Your legs begin to shake under the table, the nerves in your gut spreading throughout your entire body. If Mingi suggested it, why is he so hesitant all of a sudden?

"Were you expecting me to say no?"

"I don't—I have no idea what I was expecting to be honest." Mingi shifts in his seat, and his hands leave the edge of the table to most likely curl them into tight fists in his lap as he usually does whenever struck with nerves. You don't respond right away, instead of blinking at your best friend with a look of mild wonder.

"Um, so… what do we—when do we—you know?"

"Start?"

"I guess… yes?" You aren't used to this lingering awkwardness between you and Mingi. Typically, your friendship is all sunshine and butterflies with zero awkwardness or tension. Hell, any arguments the two of you have are usually based on something stupid and trivial, and it's been that way for as long as you can remember. Even after the incident where Mingi told the guy you liked that you thought he had a nice ass, you were more embarrassed to be around the guy than you were angry with Mingi for letting that nugget of information slip.

Just the prospect of engaging in physical affection and shit like that causes too much panic and awkward tension for comfort. Perhaps it's another red flag or warning sign indicating that this is a bad idea, but you continue to push that thought further to the back of your mind until it doesn't bother you anymore.

"Wh-whenever we want, I guess? I mean, whenever you want. That's probably the best idea."

"Well, school comes first. I have two projects coming up, as well as a few tests because midterms are on their way, and I refuse to fall behind at this point. I have to make sure I maintain a good GPA in order to get into my fall classes, and I've heard that they have no mercy once you're a sophomore, so I need to make sure everything goes smoothly from this point onward so that—"

"Ah, Y/N, I get it! School first! It's okay!" Mingi's hands come up again, held up in defense over his chest as he urges you to stop your rant. You inhale deeply in efforts to catch your breath, the lack of air during your rant causing you to feel lightheaded.

"W-We don't have to start right away. Take it slow at first? If you think that's best…" Mingi trails off and looks away from you, a redness creeping up his cheeks again. You shake your head at him even though he cannot see the action.

"I don't know what's best," you mumble, tugging the notebook that lies forgotten on the table closer to you. The odds of you getting any work done at this rate are minimal, especially since you know you will be thinking of whatever this arrangement entails for the next few days.

"A-Are you leaving?" Mingi jerks his head back in your direction as he notices your movements, and you shake your head a few times.

"I was going to suggest we head to the coffee shop. I'd, uh, I would rather discuss this there instead of the public library."

"Oh, yeah, uh, that's a good idea. Yeah, let's do that. The usual one?"

"Yes, dimwit, I was also assuming we would walk over there together as we usually do." Your use of the playful nickname alleviates a bit of the tension residing in the air, and Mingi breaks into a gummy smile at the sound of it. You continue to pull your unused belongings together and shove them into your backpack again, Mingi doing the same across from you.

He's first to stand, which would generally mean that you would have to jog to catch up with him and his long legs, but instead of leaving right away, as usual, he turns the corner of the table and joins you where you're still sitting.

You blink up at him with wide eyes, hand frozen on the strap of your bag. Mingi doesn't say a word before stooping down and snatching your bag before you have the chance to stop him. You release a noise of indignation that sounds a bit too much like a dog's yelp for your liking. Mingi doesn't give you any time to breathe, because he next grabs hold of your left hand that's still outstretched in the air for your backpack.

"Mingi," you hiss after a moment. Your gaze drifts between the awkward clasp of your hand in his and the man's cheeky grin above you.

"I got your backpack, don't worry. And your hand." He sends a wink your way, and lunch nearly makes an unwelcome appearance in your mouth again. Before you can retort back, Mingi gently tugs you to your feet and pulls you into step with him as he walks out of the library.

People are sending the two of you looks. Not the kind of looks you are used to getting, but looks. The ever so typical "ugh can they just get together already" and "everyone knows it but them" looks are no longer present. No, this time it’s looks of "oh is it finally happening?", "are they finally together?" and "it's about damn time" that have you bristling. Again, your brain pushes the thought that this may be a bad idea to the forefront of your mind, but Mingi's grip tightens ever so slightly and pushes that thought away.

You glance down at your joined hands as Mingi pulls you along, expecting to feel some sort of warmth blooming in your chest, and yet nothing rises. You shift your fingers in his grasp and slip your fingers between his, a childlike wonder to your gaze, and Mingi looks back at you when you stop walking. He sees your fixation on your joined hands and allows quiet to hang for a moment before breaking your reverie.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" He asks as he bends a bit to look you in the eye.

"It's nothing," you mumble back.

"We've held hands before, you know? This isn't anything new."

"I know…" you trail off, train of thought failing to be vocalized. It feels different, doesn't it? Is it because there is a different sort of intention behind it now? Or am I reading too far into things already?

"Hey, you dolt, you're thinking too hard again."

"Sorry." You shake your head to recover from the impending thoughts and smile up at Mingi. He grins back at you, gums flashing, then squeezes your hand tighter before continuing to lead the way to your usual cafe.

"S-So…this girl, um, do I know her or...?"

"Or what?" Mingi doesn't spare you a look, but his grip on your hand loosens, fingers slipping out of yours, and you wonder if you've said something wrong.

"I mean, is she someone who has come to me asking for every detail of your life or not?"

"N-No, she's not. She, uh, she doesn't seem interested in me at all."

"Would I recognize her if I saw her?"

"Maybe? Uh, she's in our history class. Hyerin. Min Hyerin?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head back and forth even though Mingi can't see you. The name doesn't ring any bells, although you try your best to avoid talking to your classmates. Mingi is the social one between the two of you, having enough extroverted energy to carry the both of you through social interactions and such. He may know this girl well, but you surely don’t.

"You know the guy in psychology yet?"

"What?"

"Do you know his name, you dolt?"

"O-Oh, uh, no? I haven't talked to him at all. I'm too—"

"Nervous, I know."

"That's not all there is, Mingi." You stop in your tracks, eyes bearing holes into your best friend's back. The walls of defense come up immediately, and you cross your arms over your chest. Mingi keeps walking for a moment before he realizes that you are no longer by his side. He glances back at you. A sigh passes through his lips when he reads the frown on your lips.

"Y/N."

"Mingi."

"Y/N."

"Mingi."

"Is this about the anxiety thing?"

You roll your eyes at the question, arms falling away from your chest. Part of you wants to argue and defend yourself, but the constriction in your chest prevents words from coming out. Instead, you stare at the ground, gnawing on your lower lip with a bit too much pressure. Mingi notices the expression painting your features and walks closer to you. He takes hold of your left hand, fingers interlocking yours, and tugs you closer to his side. Whether he knows that you don't really want to talk about it or that he doesn't want to address the topic either, you'll never know, but he starts walking again with you in tow.

You frown at your joined hands again, but the tightness in your chest begins to alleviate as you continue to walk, and for a moment, you think that the anxiety bubbling in your gut will go away. However, that thought is quickly dispelled because the longer Mingi holds your hand, the more you notice the glances and stares of strangers on you, on your joined hands, on the two backpacks Mingi carries. It's another moment of questioning yourself, wondering if you're making the right decision or a terrible mistake, but Mingi doesn't give you much time to dwell on those thoughts because his fast walking gets you to your usual hangout in less than five minutes.

"Can you order for us? I need to go to the bathroom." He asks as soon as the two of you step through the door. A typical gummy smile plays at his lips, one you can't say no to, so you shoo him off, watching as he drops your bags at a booth before he dashes for the bathroom. A sigh escapes your lips, and you walk up to the counter.

"Hi Y/N," the barista behind the counter greets, hitting you with a smile.

"Hi Yeosang, how are you?"

"Eh, as good as I can be. I work a double today."

"Hey, you're the one who chose this. You could've had the same psychology class as us, but you said you wanted a full day off school so you could work." You reach across the counter and poke at Yeosang's shoulder. He laughs at your childish behavior.

"Fair point, okay. I'm assuming you want the usual, by the way?"

"Of course. You know Mingi. He's a creature of habit, not very open to new things."

"Yeah, yeah, but you're the same way," Yeosang teases as he punches in your order on the register. You purse your lips. Should I tell him about the deal with Mingi? No, he wouldn't approve. He'd think it's stupid, wouldn't he?

"Y/N?" You lift your chin and look at Yeosang in the eye, startled by his sudden utterance of your name. "I asked you a question but you seemed to be off in la-la land."

"Oh, sorry. I—whatever. What's the question?"

"When are you actually gonna start working here with me?" Yeosang asks (again), head tilted to the side and bright eyes wide.

"If you want to see me more, all you have to do is ask."

"Pfft, you think I want to see your lazy ass more? Seeing you more means seeing Mingi more, and that's not a joint package I'm the biggest fan of."

"You know you love him," you chastise as you pass your credit card over to him.

"Oh, whatever, he's not all that great. But anyway, I'm asking because of money. You said you were gonna get a job last semester but never did."

"I know, I know. I just—the school has been my focus more than anything else." You glance over at the bathrooms where Mingi is on his way out. Yeosang follows your line of sight to land on the redhead. A small scoff passes through his parted lips.

"Yea, school." The dig is a typical one from Yeosang, he isn't shy about sharing his opinions, and that's something you've grown used to in the time you've known him. Yet it stings this time, perhaps because there are new intentions behind your relationship with Mingi, or it's the doubt still nagging at the edges of your thoughts.

"Be nice, Yeo. That's your roommate, so you're the one who gets to go home to an angry Mingi, not me." Yeosang merely rolls his eyes in response and passes your credit card back to you. A soft smile lands on his lips a moment later though, eyes still following Mingi as he settles into the booth.

"Whatever, I know he's the best roommate I could've asked for or something."

"Oh, by the way, we need to talk about something later. Uh, I'll try to catch you whenever Mingi and I are done with homework." You leave the counter before Yeosang has a chance to question you, fleeing his inquisitive stare and the feeling of anxiety in your gut. It's a last-minute decision on your part, a spur of the moment panic that surges through your gut and makes you decide to confess the deal you have with Mingi, which you regret almost immediately.

You go to join Mingi at the table, but when you sit down, you can see Yeosang glaring at you from across the small coffee shop, no doubt curious about what you desire to talk about, but you simply make a little 'x' with your fingers and shake your head.

"Okay, so…are we needing to make some ground rules or something?" You ask as you redirect your focus to Mingi. He snaps his gaze to you, turning away from the window on his right.

"Uh, I guess we should? I don't know." Mingi brings a finger to his mouth and catches the fingernail between his teeth.

"Okay...what's off-limits for you?"

"Off-limits? I don't know. Should there be those things?"

"Don't we need to have some sort of boundaries?"

"I was just gonna go with the flow honestly." Mingi shrugs and leans back against the cushion of the booth. Your eyes dart over to the counter where Yeosang is and find his gaze tracking you again. You curse under your breath, reach for your backpack, and pull out a notebook so that you at least look somewhat busy. Yeosang is undoubtedly suspicious already, especially considering the fact that you told him you had something you wanted to talk about, and you can't keep your mind from drifting to the thought that Yeosang knows precisely what's going on by now. Mingi watches your hasty movements with little interest but pulls out his own notebook as well.

"Even if we just go with the flow, shouldn't we discuss it?"

"Y/N, that's not what going with the flow means."

"I feel like we need boundaries," you claim.

You're avoiding Mingi's gaze now, and it's more than obvious, especially when he tries to make eye contact, and you jerk your head to the side to dodge it.

"Okay, give me an example."

"No sex," you spit out, cheeks flushing as soon as you say it. Mingi's eyes widen at the suddenness of your words and the volume, and you realize you might have said the words a bit too loud. Then, Mingi's cheeks turn red as well, almost matching the color of his hair.

"Y-Yea, okay, we can—look, we're just gonna take that off the table now, yea? Yea. We don't have to—ew."

"Ew?" You reiterate.

"I just imagined having sex with you."

"Mingi!"

"I'm not saying it would be bad, I'm ju—"

"Gross, I don't wanna know!"

"You're the one who brought it up!"

"I didn't mean for you to tell me about your sex fantasies."

"Oh my god, that's not what I was doing."

"Y/N!" Yeosang's voice interrupts your bickering, his bright tone sends across the cafe, and you instinctively sit up straighter. You excuse yourself from the table without a word.

"What the hell did you do?" Yeosang asks as soon as you get close to the counter. You reach for the coffees in front of you, but Yeosang pulls them out of your grasp at the last second. "Answer the damn question."

"I didn't do anything," you retort as you grab for the drinks again.

"Bullshit. I'm calling bullshit. You fucking yelled 'no sex.'"

Your heart plummets, and you can almost feel the sensation of it dropping. Eyes wide, you stare at Yeosang's blank expression. "So, what the fuck did you do?" Even having known Yeosang for quite a few years now, you still get scared of him at times. This is most definitely one of those times because even though his face is blank, there is an overwhelming level of something in his eyes.

"Can we talk about this later?" You hiss out, cheeks flushed and burning at this point. Yeosang refuses to let up though.

"You're about to make a bad decision, aren't you?" As soon as he voices his question, you realize precisely what you saw in his eyes.

Concern. He's worried about you yet again.

"I swear Y/N, are you letting Mingi drag you to another party? Do you not remember what happened last time?"

"No, I'm not," you mutter back. "Stop worrying so much. This isn’t about a party."

"Y/N." There's a hint of warning in Yeosang's tone, and doubt catches you in that moment of weakness. "I can't bail you out of everything. Especially when it comes to something between you and Mingi."

"There's nothing there!" You spit, eyes flashing anger at the accusation, and Yeosang instinctively takes a step back. "Fucking lecture me later, Yeo, I don't have time for this." You snatch the drinks off the counter and head back to the table where Mingi waits. Either your anger is radiating off you in waves, or Mingi watched your interaction with Yeosang at the counter. As soon as you take a seat, he pipes up with a question.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Were you two arguing?"

"No, no, it was nothing." You ignore the persistent stare that Mingi sends your way by sipping your coffee.

"Why does Yeosang look like you’ve just kicked his puppy then?" You hesitate, drink halfway back to the table, and glance over to the counter again. Yeosang isn't there anymore, however, empty space there instead. You redirect your focus to Mingi, tongue dragging across your front teeth.

"We can't let him know about this."

"What?"

"We can't let him know what we're doing," you reiterate, hand coming down on the table with a bit too much force.

"O-oh, yea, I wasn't planning on it?"

"I'm gonna talk to him about some of it but not all."

"What are you even saying, Y/N? I'm not following." Mingi drums his nails against the table, head tilted as he watches you struggle to find the words.

"I don't know! Just ignore me, I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Well," Mingi starts, taking a deep inhale of air. "Do you wanna go to my apartment?"

"What?"

"Don't make it weird, Y/N, for fuck's sake!"

"I'm not making it weird!"

"God, you're being so awkward about this. No wonder you've never had a boyfriend!"

"I'm offended, Mingi."

"Good."

You scoff at his response. "How am I supposed to respond? I didn't even hear you clearly the first time."

"I asked if you want to go to my apartment," Mingi says again, slowing his words so that you can clearly hear them.

"Yea, that's fine. I'm fine with that." You glance over to where Yeosang is again.

"Why are you worrying so much about Yeosang right now? He has nothing to do with this, Y/N." You reel and face Mingi again, catching his brown eyes on yours.

"He wouldn't approve of this," you mutter, swirling your coffee around in its cup. Mingi narrows his eyes.

"You just said that he doesn't have to know."

"He's our friend, Mingi, and your roommate. He is going to find out eventually."

"You're the one who agreed, Y/N. I put up the offer, and you accepted it. You didn't have to, and we can still call it off if you've changed your mind." Mingi shrugs, much more nonchalant about this whole matter than you are.

"It's not that. I would just rather… I don't know. I would rather not have him witness it."

"So, you would rather have your roommate witness it?"

"We aren't friends with my roommate; however, we are friends with Yeosang."

"Okay, I see your point," Mingi relents, putting his arms up in defense. "I raise a counterpoint. Hear me out?"

"Go ahead, go ahead." You sit back and rest against the booth.

"Yeosang works late, remember? Full days on Tuesdays and Thursdays, until closing. Then he has to clean the cafe before coming back to the apartment. So that means he wouldn't get back until past eleven." Mingi draws invisible lines across the table with his finger. You follow the movements with your eyes, listening to Mingi's plan carefully.

"So…?" You prod in the hopes that Mingi will elaborate more.

"So, Yeosang is used to seeing you at the apartment without there being some underlying intention behind it. Even if we decide to make this agreement a reality, he doesn't have to know because we could limit ourselves to learning things when he isn't around. And when he does show up, we can just chill and do the things we usually do whenever Yeosang's around."

Mingi is making too much sense. Far too much sense, and he's using far bigger words than are usually in his vocabulary. That is a rather significant concern; however, you can't find any flaws in his argument, no matter how hard you try. And perhaps that's the purpose of Mingi's case and what his true intentions are, to be able to convince you with this, and you hate to admit that it's working.

It's your turn to drum your fingers against the table.

"Well then," you start, avoiding Mingi's gaze by looking at the table. "I guess…we ought to get started then?" You don't intend for it to end in a question, yet it does. Mingi cocks his head to the side, glancing over you with a slight bit of shock across his features as though he wasn't expecting you to agree, which is strange in your mind. You pack your notebook back into your backpack without another word, collecting your things and getting ready to head out. Mingi fumbles to catch up with your pace.

"O-Oh, you wanna go now?"

"You were the one who suggested it?" You peer at Mingi now, head tilted in question.

"I didn't expect you to agree so quickly, that's all." Mingi scratches the back of his neck. A light flush hits his cheeks. "Considering all your…prior complaints about it, that is."

"I'm trying to make sure this isn't awkward, okay?"

"It isn't awkward, it's just—well, it's weird, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" You hesitate, halfway out of the booth, and look back at Mingi again.

"I mean, yea, we've done a lot of things during our friendship. We grew up alongside each other and have done pretty much everything together. Yet, it doesn't feel like this was something either of us considered."

"And now that we're about to do it, it feels odd."

"Yea, exactly. I think you're overthinking the whole situation though. We're doing the same things we've always done: going to cafes, the movies, the park, hanging out at my apartment, those sorts of things. That's nothing new for us."

You sigh and slide out of the booth, collecting your things and not looking back at Mingi when you utter your next words,

"That's not what I'm scared of."

Mingi follows quickly and falls into step beside you a moment later. You feel the heat of his gaze on you but elect not to say anything. He waits though, following you out the door and back into the cold February air.

"I'm scared of things changing between us," you admit once the door snaps shut behind you, as though that will provide you with some semblance of security. Mingi opens his mouth, but you already know what he is going to ask, so you interrupt him. "I like the way things are between us. We're best friends, and I don't want some stupid desires to get in the way of our friendship." Mingi moves in front of you and reaches down between the two of you to grab hold of one of your hands.

"We're best friends. This won't change anything between us because we have been friends for this long without doing these kinds of things. Even when it's all said and done, we will still be friends, and nothing will be different." Mingi pulls you to his side, fingers slotting between yours, and leads the way down the sidewalk. “Let’s just… do this as though it’s just like anything else we would do together.”

You want to point out that this is different: there is a fine line between a normal friendship and whatever this game you’re playing. You can’t bring yourself to voice the concerns, however, so you keep your lips pressed together. Considering how much you’ve complained already, you’re sure that Mingi would just be annoyed if you said anything else. So you stay quiet, fingers squeezing tight around Mingi’s, and fall into step with him. It’s a comfortable feeling, aside from Mingi’s silence, which is a thing you aren’t used to. Still, it gives you time to just bask in the last shreds of normality between the two of you.

Then your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you let go of Mingi’s hand to pull it out.

Yeosang: if you get your sorry ass stuck at another party, I’m not bailing you out

Yeosang: deadass

Yeosang: you’re on your own

You huff as you read the messages, a small pool of annoyance bubbling in your gut. The good and right thing to do would be to respond and reassure Yeosang that it’s not that serious, not even close to what happened last time.

You do the opposite. Ignoring the messages, refusing to respond, and putting the phone back in your pocket to retake Mingi’s hand without saying a word.

“Hey, Mingi, I have a question.”

Mingi glances down at you, no doubt assuming that you’re going to ask something about the deal again, and you rush to clarify.

“How is it possible that none of the people who have been into you have piqued your interest? Just… statistics wise, I don’t understand how that’s possible. Surely at least one has caught your eye.” Mingi’s gaze drifts again, and he snaps his chin away from you before you can see the expression on his face.

“No. None of them have. I don’t know what to tell you. Just... I haven’t been interested in any of them. Sure, some of them are pretty, or have nice personalities, or simply would be a good girlfriend, but none of them are—” Mingi cuts himself off, and you hear the sharp inhale of breath he takes next. You think he’s going to continue speaking for a moment, but instead, he shifts the topic over to you. “I could ask you the same question, Y/N. There are plenty of guys who have liked you, plenty who probably do right now, but you never do anything about it.”

“Hm well, that’s different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t see it. I mean, you get people who approach you directly and an endless amount of girls who come to me because of you, but that doesn’t happen to me. So I never know if someone likes me, or… I have my eyes set on someone else, so I don’t think about it.”

“You never thought that I might be the same?” Mingi’s question shouldn’t catch you off-guard, but it manages to do so anyway. To be honest, you have never considered it. “I’ve liked people in the past, and when I like someone, it’s like no one else exists. That’s why I’ve never focused on the girls who approach you or me.”

In your eyes, Mingi has always been this single free-spirited kind of person. Never talked about girls or boys, never showed interest in either, and never talked about having feelings for anyone. You always chalked him up to be the type to not be interested in relationships, but it seems you were wrong about that.

“So you… you do want a relationship?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Well, you know, some people are aromantic or don’t get that sort of attraction towards others, so they aren’t really interested in relationships. Some just aren’t into that kind of commitment, some just want to fuck and go. It’s different for everyone, and I just… I assumed that—you know?”

Mingi breaks into laughter as you stammer your way through the words. “I thought you knew me better than that, Y/N.”

“We don’t talk about this sort of stuff, Mingi. What do you expect? I can’t read your mind either, so I don’t know what to tell you!” You barely even notice where you are when Mingi releases your hand and pulls a door open. You have to shake your head and actually take in your surroundings, seeing Mingi’s apartment building before you. He waits for you to step through the door without saying anything. “Sorry, zoned out.”

“Obviously,” Mingi laughs under his breath. You duck into the building, warm air smacking you in the face, and you turn your head to avoid the onslaught of warmth. You don’t wait for Mingi to lead the way up to his apartment, you already know where it is. “Hey, remember that Yeosang gets stingy about liquids in the apartment! Try not to spill your coffee this time!”

“It was your fault last time, I don’t see why you’re blaming me!” You call out over your shoulder as you quickly jog up the stairs.

“You kicked me!”

“And you retaliated by throwing a pillow at me! Not my fault it hit the coffee cup.” Something hits the back of your thigh, right below the curve of your butt, and you spin to face Mingi. He cackles at the shock across your face. “Did you just—you did not!”

“Didn’t what?” Mingi laughs, stepping past you on the stairs and continuing up without you. “I didn’t do anything inappropriate.” You scoff and hurry to chase after him.

“You hit my ass!”

“No, I hit your thigh. There’s not much ass to hit anyways.” Mingi sends a grin your way. You can’t do anything except gape back at him, mouth hanging open as he simply laughs and continues up the stairs.

“I’m offended, Mingi. Not much ass? Why are you even looking?”

“Not looking at much, to be honest.”

“Shut up, Mingi!” If you didn’t like your coffee so much, you would consider dumping it all over Mingi in retaliation. Instead, you’re going to have to find another way to get back at him because no way in hell are you going to let him get away with talking shit about your ass, no matter how flat it may be. “You’re equally as flat, if not more.”

“It’s different for guys though.”

You roll your eyes back at the comment. “Don’t be shallow.”

“What’s the saying? Different strokes for different folks? Some people like boobs, some like butts.”

“And some like personality and other non-physical assets.” You can almost hear the roll of Mingi’s eyes even though he’s in front of you, but he doesn’t add any more salt to the wound. Thank goodness for that too, because you’re nearing his apartment on the third floor. The jingle of keys distracts you from your thoughts. Mingi fiddles with his keys, and you watch on with little interest as he unlocks the door to his apartment. You push your way in first once he opens it though, slipping past him to get inside. Sipping at your coffee, you turn to look at Mingi as he steps through the door as well.

“Why don’t you put your coffee in the kitchen this time? Just in case you decide to kick me again.”

“You mean, in case you throw pillows again? I can’t recall if Yeosang was more upset about the coffee on the carpet or the rip in the pillow.”

“Definitely the carpet. He hates stains.”

“He hates tears and rips more though.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. Have you seen how upset he gets about the dish towels at work?”

“Okay, but have you lived with him? No. Trust me. Stains are his biggest pet peeve.” You shake your head a little bit but decide not to argue with Mingi about it. Still, You listen to his advice and give your coffee one last sip before setting it on the kitchen counter. You hear quite a bit of movement behind you, and you assume that it’s just Mingi bustling about with his belongings. Giving your drink one last quick sip, you turn away from the counter.

Then, the breath is knocked out of you, a sharp force smacks you in the chest, and you gasp in surprise as some tall figure traps you against the counter without warning. You can do nothing except blink at the chest before you, fingers gripping the marble counter that digs into the flesh of your back.

“M-Mingi?” You stammer. You don’t dare look up, your heart descending into shambles at this point (mostly out of shock, yes, that’s precisely what it is, nothing else). “Wh-What are you—what are you doing?”

“Trying something,” Mingi mutters, voice much lower than you anticipated. You nearly choke on your breath. Your fingers grip the counter tighter as Mingi looks down at you. “Hm, interesting.” He steps back, and you inhale a gasp of air now that there is more space between the two of you. You press a hand to your chest in attempts to quell the frantic racing of your weak and fragile heart. Mingi crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes stay on you, and you don’t have a chance to catch your breath.

“In-Interesting?”

Mingi leans forward, and you instinctively lean back at the same time. There’s nowhere for you to go though, you’re still stuck against the counter, and your back bends painfully against the granite.

“Are… are we starting no-now?” You whisper, eyes glued to Mingi’s. His face presses closer to yours. Breath hot across your face, Mingi shifts his gaze so that he’s looking over your features. His arms fall to the counter, entirely trapping you now, one arm on either side of your body, and you forget how to breathe for a moment.

"Do you want us to start now?"

Mingi doesn't look you in the eye; instead, he keeps glancing over your features and following your nose's curve down to your lips. His gaze lingers there. He presses forward a little more, and one of his thighs slips between your legs with ease. Your lips part as you gasp a little, the pressure of his thigh pressing against your inner thighs eliciting a spike in your heart rate.

"Is it working?" Mingi asks after a moment. You can do nothing except exhale shakily as you look him in the eye, trying not to move otherwise for fear of brushing against his thigh again. His stupid fucking thigh that's wedged between your legs. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Is what working?" You hiss out between gritted teeth. Even though you're trying to seem upset, you're confident that your cheeks are the color of tomatoes.

"Can I… can I-I kiss you?" Mingi sounds surprisingly less confident all the sudden, as though the prospect of kissing you is dangerous, even though his thigh resides between your legs.

"Y-yea. Go for it." You grip the counter behind you a bit tighter. Mingi hesitates a moment then slowly leans in to close the gap between you two. Squeezing your eyes shut, you wait for the hard force of his lips hitting yours. It's soft, however, like a pillow against your lips. You don't move, instead of letting Mingi test the waters first. It takes a moment, but suddenly you have the confidence to. You use your weight against the counter to push forward, moving your lips against his with more force. Mingi matches the strength and pushes against you. His thigh involuntarily presses further between your thigh. You gasp into the kiss, clenching around his leg as it brushes your clit, and your hands fly from the counter to Mingi's arms. Mingi pulls back to glance down at your face, which is now surely gleaming with sweat because you can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

As though by instinct, his arms slide closer to your hips. The pads of his fingers barely brush your skin, where the hem of your t-shirt has ridden up. You bite down hard on your tongue. He has a slight flush to his cheeks now that you really look at him, the redness tints his nose and ears, and you can see the slight stutter of his chest as he tries to catch his breath as well. He doesn't wait for a response to his question.

"I wa-want to kiss you again." His tone is quiet, too quiet for it to affect you the way it does, but there's a tightening in your gut as you hear the words. Instead of answering with words, you shift your hands to the collar of Mingi's shirt and pull him closer to you.

"Kiss me then," you mutter. Your breath is hot on his lips, and the action of pulling him to you causes an almost visceral reaction to washing over Mingi. A high-pitched whine passes through him. It startles both of you. Mingi's blush intensifies, and he ducks his head to hide the embarrassment. You don't give him a chance to hide for long, reaching up to push his chin back in your direction, then press your lips to his once more. Mingi sighs into the kiss. He slides his hands closer to you, taking hold of your hips. His fingers are hot against your skin, and you relish in the sensation as you press yourself further against Mingi.

He doesn't let you pull back for air until he's almost running out of it. Even so, he only gives the two of you a few moments to catch your breath. Whatever you were expecting from your first kiss just went out the window because you had no idea this is what it would be, nor did you think you would be sharing it with Mingi. Yeosang’s concern appears in the back of your mind again. The blaring sirens in your ears ring in warning as you drag your gaze over Mingi’s lips. You ignore all warning signals as you dip in for more.

Something tells you that you’re going to regret this.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

If someone had told you that a month ago you would make a deal with your childhood best friend and that deal would entail making out and sexual explorations, you would have laughed in their face.

Mingi? You really think I would even think about him like that?

Yes, well, here you are a month later in his kitchen yet again (how many times this week?). His lips are on yours. You will say that Mingi has gotten a lot more confident with his kissing in only a month, which is quite impressive in and of itself. He’s also gotten more confident in other departments, wandering hands becoming more frequent, whereas you can barely stave off the embarrassment of kissing him. One thing he loves is marking you. Even if you’re just sitting on the couch, Mingi has his lips on your neck and busies himself with pressing mark after mark against your skin.

But not now. No, right now, Mingi has his lips pressed to yours, and he is kissing you with a particular fervor that leaves you both wanting more. You two haven’t gotten very far past the kissing stage. A little grinding here and there, some awkward orgasms, and a few attempts to get in each other’s pants, but Yeosang always seems to make a timely appearance in those moments. You haven’t been caught yet though, which is more than a miracle since you and Mingi are nothing shy of sloppy.

"I want to try something," Mingi mutters even though the two of you are the only ones in the room. He isn't as shy or reserved this time, no, he's carrying a lot more confidence, and there's a fire in his eyes that catches you off guard.

"More than you've already done?" You exhale shakily.

"Yes. Just a little. Maybe." Mingi's tongue slips out and moistens his lips. Pushing his thigh forward, he works your legs apart slowly. His eyes remain on yours, watching for any sign of hesitation, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip. It's uncomfortable at first; the width of his thigh is too much for your smaller stature.

"Hold on." You shift under him and try to get a better angle with his thigh between yours. "Mi-ingi, wait." Mingi halts immediately at your words. You keep shifting until it's comfortable, only for Mingi to further press his muscled thigh against your crotch. You gasp, the sensation pulsing through you. "F-Fuck."

"Language," Mingi chastises. A laugh courses through him before he presses further up against you. You grasp at his shirt, balling your fists around the material, and throw your head back. "Does... does it feel good?" His voice is much more hesitant, confidence lost from his tone.

"Y-Yes. Yes. It – oh, oh." You shake under him as his muscle works harder against your core. "Fuck, for someone who do-doesn't know what he's doing, you're doing just fine." Rocking back against Mingi's thigh, you feel your hesitations slipping away. The pleasure of the feeling is too good for you to care any longer.

"Your reaction is helping a lot," Mingi huffs out as you release a small moan.

"Wa-ait, I th-think I'm close."

"Already?" Mingi asks. You roll your eyes at his remark and slap his arm.

"F-Fuck you."

"I can stop."

"No, no, no." You bite out, teeth gritted together.

Mingi rolls his thigh forward again. An almost pitiful moan leaves your lips as he does. A string of moans continues to escape as he uses his hands to guide your hips against the muscle of his thigh. You brace yourself by holding onto his shoulder, feeling a wave of heat wash over you.

"Oh fuck, fu-uck, I'm cumming," you cry out as the high hits. Your whole body trembles and shakes as the warmth washes over you. Mingi holds you against him as you ride it out, both arms snaking around you.

"Well, that's one idea down." Mingi slowly pulls his thigh away from you. His hands come down to the counter again, forehead coming to rest against yours. The euphoric sensation quickly leaves you, and as the orgasm passes, you find that cold washing over you instead.

"Is it my turn to try an idea out?" You whisper. Your hands find the collar of his shirt, folding around the material and tugging him down to you.

"Yea, I'd like that." Mingi chuckles. His fingers trace down to your sides.

Then – something rattles and clicks, and you hear the door creak. You shove Mingi back in haste, he stumbles back, and you spin around to turn your back on him. Your hands find the edge of the counter and grip it hard. You try your best to seem somewhat normal, but the two of you look more awkward than anything. It’s glaringly apparent that you were doing something, and you can only hope that Yeosang doesn’t put two and two together.

Your face is hot when Yeosang comes into view. Mingi has moved to the fridge in attempts to hide his red cheeks. Yeosang doesn’t notice you right away, still focused on closing and locking the door, but when he turns to see you, his head tilts in question.

“I really thought you were going to another party.” He laughs under his breath. As he moves closer to the counter, his eyes land on where Mingi is positioned by the fridge. A questioning gleam begins to rise up in his dark eyes. “Why the hell is it so awkward in here?”

You sputter a little, rushing to deny the awkwardness, but Mingi makes the situation even worse by turning around and excusing himself.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” he mutters as he slides out of the kitchen and down the hall. Yeosang’s brows shoot up. You two stay in silence until the door of Mingi’s room clicks shut. You gnaw on your lower lip as you watch Yeosang lower his school bag to the floor.

“You reek of sex.”

“Ex-excuse me, I d-do not!” You stammer, blinking furiously.

“And Mingi was popping a boner.”

“Oh my god, Yeos–”

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N?” The question isn’t spoken with vehemence or anger. Instead, Yeosang sounds tired and disappointed. That almost hurts worse.

“I-It’s no big deal. Just… we’re just learning. Together.”

“Learning together. Yeah, because that always ends well.”

“Listen, Yeo, what would you do in my shoes?”

“I have no idea, because I don’t even know why you thought to do this in the first place.” Yeosang leans against the counter and presses his palms against the granite. His gaze is hot on your skin, so focused on you that you have to look away.

“I don’t know anything a-about relationships or sex. Neither does Mingi. I… I want to know what I’m doing when I have sex for the first time. And when I get in a relationship. Isn’t that normal?”

“It’s normal not to know what the hell you’re doing, yeah. It’s not normal to make a sex arrangement with your childhood friend simply because you’re both horny.”

“That’s not what we’re doing!”

“Then what is it really?”

“J-Just tell me what you would do in my shoes.”

“Is this what you wanted to talk about earlier?”

“Yeosang, please.” Your embarrassment is skyrocketing at an impressive pace, no thanks to Yeosang’s increasingly invasive questions. “Yes, it is. But I didn’t mean for you to ask this many questions.”

“I would never do anything without feelings being present,” Yeosang answers after heaving a deep sigh. “I ask questions because I’m your friend, and as your friend, I worry. So just let me ask questions and worry about the two of you since you are my closest friends.”

“That’s probably a smart decision,” you mutter as you mull over the first half of Yeosang’s words.

“You aren’t going to make the smart decision though, are you?” When you refuse to answer, Yeosang sighs and turns away from you. “Y/N, I guarantee that you will regret this an–”

“It’s fine. Nothing bad will happen.”

“That’s what everyone says before something bad happens.”

“I trust Mingi with my life. Is that not enough?” You counter, arms coming up to cross over your chest. Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut, but you catch him rolling his eyes just before he closes them.

“I understand that, and I know you do. This is something serious. You should feel something for the person you’re giving all your firsts to.”

“There are feelings there,” you snap back.

“Romantic feelings, Y/N. You can’t tell me that you have any of those for Mingi because I know that you don’t.”

“And? Your point? I won’t be giving all my firsts to Mingi anyway.” As your defensive state grows stronger, Yeosang’s disappointment does too. He pokes his tongue out to drag over his lower lip. When he looks back at you, you almost wish he hadn’t so that you didn’t have to see the sadness on his expression.

“I don’t want to argue with you… especially not over something like this,” he mutters, bringing a hand up to comb through his hair. “I trust you, but I hope you will make the right decision about this. Not one that your body wants, but one that your heart wants.”

“I will,” you whisper back, all the fire and anger gone from your tone.

“I just don’t want you to regret anything, Y/N. Or for this to harm your friendship with Mingi.” The words spark an unprecedented amount of anger in you, and you drop your arms to your side.

“You don’t know the type of friendship I have with Mingi. It won’t ruin anything.”

Yeosang doesn’t get the chance to respond because Mingi comes back from the bathroom at that moment. He glances over you and Yeosang. If he notices the spike in tension between you two, he neglects to comment.

“I think I’m going to head home,” you mutter as you try to collect yourself. Mingi’s eyes rake over you in attempts to understand where your sudden departure is coming from. You don’t look back; instead, you stare straight ahead at Yeosang.

“O-Okay, do you want me to walk you out or…?” Mingi trails off. He fiddles with his hands, picking at a loose nail with little interest as he watches you.

“No, I told her I would walk her out,” Yeosang cuts in, finally looking away from you to nod at Mingi.

“Oh, cool. Uh, I’ll text you later, Y/N.”

“Yea, see ya. Tomorrow, I guess? I’ll text you.” You pull yourself away from the counter. Yeosang follows you out of the apartment, hot on your heels as you leave. It’s only when the door snaps shut behind the two of you that he opens his mouth to speak again. You cut him off before he gets the chance. “I don’t need you to worry about us.”

“I — I know you don’t, but you don’t get to decide when I care and when I don’t. I do. I care, and since I care, I’ll worry about you regardless.”

“I know,” you mutter, turning away from Yeosang before he catches the frown on your lips.

“I won’t lecture you to oblivion again, but… I just want you to be careful. I’m scared you’ll get in too deep or regret doing something with him. I know I’ve done that in the past. It’s not a matter of trusting you or trusting him. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

You moisten your lips as Yeosang speaks and mull over the words. Part of you feels bad for jumping down his throat so quickly like you did. You extend a hesitant hand to grip his bicep, squeezing around his shirt.

“Thank you for looking after us.”

“You’re my friends. I would be a pretty shitty person if I didn’t.”

“Still… I’m grateful that you’re looking out for us.”

“I sense a ‘but,’” Yeosang states, shrugging your hand off his arm.

“We’re being careful, that’s all.”

“If you say so.”

You and Yeosang exchange a prolonged stare, then you reach forward to pull the taller man into your arms. He hugs you back with equal enthusiasm, folding his arms around your waist and pressing his face against your shoulder.

“I love you, Yeosang.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

You should know how long it’s been by now. Emphasis on should because you most certainly do not know how long you and Mingi have been exercising your arrangement, and things have escalated in a way you did not expect.

In short, the two of you have gotten bold beyond belief. You barely wait to see if Yeosang is home before going at each other, and that’s not even the worst part.

Last week, Mingi fingered you during movie night with Yeosang. It was awkward, he fumbled a lot and had trouble finding the right angle, but once he did, you had to bite on a pillow to keep from screaming out.

Two days ago, you gave Mingi a handjob in the back of a lecture hall. Yeosang was one seat over. God knows what was going through your mind at that moment because that had to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. The thrill and rush it gave you was sweet, but as you look back at it, you only feel the hot burn of shame.

And now. This is the worst thing that has happened yet because Yeosang walked in just as Mingi was slipping one hand down your pants. Needless to say, the two of you detached quicker than imaginable. That didn’t stop Yeosang from seeing exactly what was going on, and your whole body burns with the embarrassment of being caught in the act.

“Mingi, you were gonna take me home?” You inquire, turning to the man even though he agreed to no such thing. It’s a desperate attempt to get out of this awful and awkward situation you just put yourself in. Mingi doesn’t seem to realize that right away though, and he blinks back at you with inquiry in his gaze.

“O-Oh? Was I?”

You send a pointed glare his way, and he straightens his back as he realizes what’s going on. You can feel the heat of Yeosang’s presence nearby. Even though he doesn’t say anything, you can sense the disappointment radiating off his body in waves. This is precisely what he was telling you to avoid. Yet here you are. Doing just that after telling him that you had it under control.

“Yes, I was. I remember now. Yeo, can I borrow your car?”

Yeosang’s glare lingers on you. He doesn’t respond for a few moments, and you think he’s going to say no at first. Then he tosses his bundle of keys towards Mingi.

“Fill it up with gas on your way back.” Tone cold and flat. It almost hurts to hear, but Mingi still seems to be oblivious to what’s happening.

“Will do!” Mingi catches the keys with ease. You step around Yeosang to move towards the door. He seems to want to say more to you, but Mingi’s presence deters him. Either way, you’ll get a text from him later tonight saying that he’s sorry and didn’t mean to offend you or snap at you. That’s just how your relationship with Yeosang operates.

Mingi grabs your hand before you’re even out the door, threading his fingers through yours. You dare to glance back at Yeosang. His stare lingers on your joined hands with even more sadness than before.

“So, why am I taking you home?”

“Because, uh, I-I…” You trail off, hurrying to figure out some sort of excuse to get away from Yeosang. “I’m exhausted? Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

“You know you could spend the night with me. We do that… all the time.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna get home. I haven’t been home in hours. Need to feed the cat next door too.” It’s a lie, but Mingi’s eyes light up at the mention of the pet.

“Oh, is Mrs. Parks out of town again?”

“Y-Yep, but I’ll take care of it, so you don’t have to come up!” Mingi frowns at your words, and guilt twinges in your gut a little. It doesn’t last long because the chilly air outside nips at your skin and pushes the feeling away.

You climb into the passenger seat as Mingi gets in on the driver’s side. As soon as you’re settled in the seat, a hand comes down on your thigh. You flinch at the sudden sensation and glance over at Mingi. He acts as though he hasn’t done anything, hand resting on the inside of your thigh and making you look small under him. You won’t admit it to him, but it makes your gut pool with arousal. Mingi pulls out of the parking lot, driving with one hand so that he can keep the other pressed against your thigh. You want to question it and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but you can barely form a coherent thought. The simple action has you in shambles, and he isn’t even doing anything.

The drive commences in silence, the radio blares in the background, and Mingi occasionally drums the beat of the songs against your leg. You are trying your best to not think about it and just wave it off as a silly and harmless action. Emphasis on try, because every single time you begin to squirm under Mingi’s grip, he smirks. He knows exactly what he’s doing and isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he does.

When he pulls the car into your apartment complex, you don’t get out immediately. Partially because it feels awkward considering what went down in his apartment earlier, and mostly because his hand is still clamped around your thigh. You glance over at him and open your mouth to ask if something is wrong, but Mingi dips in before words get out. His lips hit yours in a mess of teeth and saliva, and you nearly bite the tip of your tongue off. It’s harsher than your first kiss; Mingi puts a lot more force into this one. You respond with an equal amount of ferocity though and reach down to undo your seatbelt. Mingi does the same, leaning into the kiss as he’s freed from the belt's restrictions.

You only part once you run out of breath, still awkwardly holding each other’s faces as you pant into the other’s mouth.

“You never got to try that thing you mentioned earlier…” Mingi trails off, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. You’re caught off-guard, however, completely unaware of whatever he’s talking about. That’s when it hits you. Before Yeosang came into the apartment, you told Mingi that there was something you wanted to try.

“A-Ah, yeah, th–well, yeah. I can — I can try it now maybe.” You stammer your way through the response and try to swallow the bundle of nerves that hits your throat.

“Y-Yeah, go for it. Just… go for it.” Mingi pulls away from you and puts his hands up awkwardly. You aren’t sure what you’re doing either, so you look equally as stupid. Mingi must be aroused from just the minimal kissing because there is a prominent bulge in his pants, and that’s precisely where you reach next. You place a shaky hand over his clothed erection. Mingi’s legs spread further open when you touch him, and you take it as an invitation. You reach for the button of his pants, popping it open, then you tug the zipper down.

Your motions are slow and calculated. You watch Mingi’s face for a reaction with each shift, delighted with the hiss that escapes him as you reach under the band of his underwear and grip his semihard member. You pull the underwear down just enough to expose his cock to the air and your eye. You aren’t sure what you were expecting — you’ve never thought about Mingi’s size — but his girth alone is enough to make you choke on air. You tighten your grip on his cock.

This isn’t the first time you have given Mingi a handjob. It is your first time seeing his cock head-on like this though, because he usually keeps it in his pants whenever you jerk him off. Your intention now is a little different, and you’re nervous about going through with the idea considering his size. You swallow your nerves and lean across the seat to press your lips over the head of his member.

Two months. Now you remember how long it’s been. Because you have spent the past two months reading articles, watching porn, doing anything you can to learn what the hell you’re supposed to do. It’s your first blowjob. Sure, Mingi has never had one, so he won’t know the difference between a good one and a bad one, but that doesn’t keep you from wanting to do a good job.

You start with a few kitten licks to the head of his cock, blinking up at it through fluttering lashes, then you slowly lower your mouth to encompass his shaft. He stretches your lips nicely; it isn’t painful or unimaginable as you initially thought it would be. However, you know that there is no way in hell that you are getting his whole member in your mouth. That’s off the table. He would be halfway down your throat if you tried to do that.

Instead of taking in as much as you can right off the bat, you start small, worshipping the tip of his cock with kisses and licks. He tastes salty; each bead of precum that leaks from his slit is less salty than the last, but you might just be getting used to the taste. You let your tongue explore his length. It runs down to follow the lines of his veins, tracing the tip before dipping back down to run the flat of your tongue over the underside of his cock. It’s heavier than you anticipated, but you have nothing to compare it to, so you can only assume that this is normal.

You begin to bob your head a bit more as you gain some confidence. Mingi releases small groans when your teeth graze his sensitive skin. The sounds encourage you to increase the frequency of your movements. Soon enough, you have to hold your hair back because you’re bobbing up and down too quickly on his cock. Mingi’s moans increase in volume as you continue. That makes you feel a little bit proud because you’re only halfway down his member. You dare to go a little further though, pushing your tongue out further and wetting the next quarter of his dick. As you dip lower, he hits the back of your throat. It triggers your gag reflex in an instant, and you gag around his dick. The sensation must feel good to Mingi because he releases a particularly filthy moan.

You have to pull off before continuing though. You can barely breathe, and nearly gagging on him made you want to throw up. Mingi watches you with eyes filled with lust and desire as you heave a few deep breaths. Slowly you return to his erect member, holding it by the base before pushing your lips back over him. This time, Mingi holds your hair back for you. His fingers entangle in your strands, staying close to your scalp as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. He touches the back of your throat again. This time you are more prepared for the sensation, but it doesn’t keep you from gagging again. Mingi’s hips jerk as you gag around him. He unintentionally bucks up into your mouth, causing you to choke further. A small noise of indignation escapes you, and you groan around him. Again, that must bring Mingi pleasure, because he shifts his hips back.

You smack his thigh when the grip on your hair doesn’t let you up for air. Mingi gets the hint immediately and lets you pull off him. A disgusting amount of saliva connects your lips to his cock. It must look filthy and perverse beyond belief, but Mingi’s dick twitches as you make eye contact with him, spit covering your lips and eyes watering. You swallow roughly. Surely Mingi is getting close to cumming; at least you hope he is because you aren’t sure that you particularly enjoy having a dick in your mouth.

The idea of pleasuring him outweighs your disdain, and you bend back over him to swallow as much of his cock as possible. You make it further than last time, still gagging a little, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as before, so you’re more comfortable continuing it. You bob along his member, and he helps you along a little by grabbing hold of your hair again. He guides your movements like that. Every once and awhile, Mingi will buck his hips up into your mouth and hit the back of your throat harder than before. You have to push the discomfort aside because you’re too damn determined to bring an orgasm over him.

It works at long last after a few seconds of holding you on his cock. You pull off, gasping for air, and Mingi cums in that moment. His seed hits your face, and it’s a good thing that you had your eyes squeezed shut because he would have popped you in the eye if not. You flinch at the contact. It’s as warm as always, but that doesn’t mean you want it on your face. Mingi cusses under his breath as he rides out the orgasm, voice low and gravelly. You shift to look in the back seat, find a random sweatshirt under one of the seats, and use that to wipe your face clean. You can still smell it, but at least you don’t have to feel it on your skin anymore.

Mingi blinks at you in wonder as you sit back in your seat, hands folded neatly in your lap.

“So…?” You trail off. You are a bit embarrassed to ask him what he thought, but you might have to get the words out anyway because Mingi blinks back at you with a dumb expression on his features. “Was i-it — was it good?”

“Fuck yes,” he mutters, releasing another groan. He quickly shoves his softening member back into his underwear and zips his pants back up. You swallow around nothing. “That was… wow. Wow. Damn.”

“Good! Good, yeah – uh, yeah, I’m glad.” You nod awkwardly, unable to look him in the eye all of a sudden. It’s strange how sometimes you can handle the embarrassment of your arrangement with such grace and ease, and other times you can’t even look at your hands. “Well, I’m gonna – I’m gonna go up now. I guess. Yeah.”

“Oh, o-oh, yeah, okay!” Mingi stammers as you motion over your shoulder. He nods along with you then rushes to hit the unlock button on his door. “You… uh, have a nice night!”

“You too, Mingi.”

“Cool.”

“Yep.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Why are you still in the car? And why the hell aren’t you getting out? Two questions that you will ask yourself for the rest of your life because you aren’t sure what comes over you. All you know is that tears are hitting your cheeks, and you are having a breakdown in the passenger seat of Yeosang’s car with Mingi, your childhood best friend, and the man you just sucked off in the driver seat. It feels filthy now. You’ve never felt so disgusting in your life like you’ve crossed a line you were never supposed to cross or that you have done something you can’t come back from. All you know is that Yeosang was right.

You regret it now.

“W-What’s wrong? Y/N, hey, hey. It’s okay.” Mingi reaches forward to touch your shoulder, but you smack his hand away before he can touch you. The sharp impact echoes through the car. “Y/N… what’s going on?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Mingi, what t-the fuck are w-we doing?” Your shoulders shake as you sob into your hands. You don’t even care that you just held a disgusting sweatshirt covered in cum as you rub at the tears on your cheeks. Mingi doesn’t know how to respond. He brings his hands back into his lap and keeps them there as you continue to cry. “W-We’re so fucking dumb. Why? Why did I let you convince me to do this? Wh-Why did you even suggest it?”

“I… I thought you wanted this.”

“Why would I want this?” You shout with sudden rage. Mingi flinches at the volume of your voice, and for a split second, you feel bad. That goes away immediately though as you settle back into your anger. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“You agreed to it!”

“You should have known better. You’re my best friend!”

“I told you to say no at any time. I said if you didn’t want it, we didn’t have to, I told you that. Why are you suddenly so upset now? After what? Two months? Suddenly this is the worst thing in the fucking universe?” Mingi doesn’t look at you as he hisses the words, eyes forward on the steering wheel. You’re shaking again, but this time it’s the anger that causes you to tremble. Mingi is right. You know he’s right. That’s almost more infuriating.

He gave you the opportunity to walk away, he told you that you could say no, he left the door wide open for you to go. And yet you didn’t. For what? What was all this for? For some damn experience for a guy that you know you’re never going to ask out, let alone talk to? Good fucking riddance.

You push your way out of the car, legs shaky and trembling as you go. You don’t stop to look back at Mingi as you slam the door behind you. A few seconds after you leave the car, the car horn blares. You jerk your head to look back at the car and see Mingi slam a fist against the steering wheel. It’s not hard to walk away, but each step has your legs feeling like lead in an unexpected way. It’s hard to not think about your best friend sitting in the car with tears on his cheeks like yours. It’s hard to believe that Yeosang was right, and he literally warned you that this would happen. Yet you still ignored him. Why? Why, why, why?

You’ve never felt more stupid in your life.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Mingi stands across from you, arms folded over his chest as he watches you pace back and forth in your living room. You aren’t sure why you agreed to bring him here. It’s been three weeks since the two of you last spoke, three weeks since that argument in the parking lot, and you aren’t sure what it was that convinced you to come when he asked to meet. You don’t stop pacing back and forth as you recall a conversation the two of you shared shortly before your fight.

“We kiss and do all this stuff… but I don’t feel a thing.”

Your chest tightens a little, but you manage to at least maintain a straight face as he looks at you pointedly. Still, you continue your small rant with a weaker voice.

“I’ve never been sexually or physically attracted to you. And that feels wrong for some reason. It feels like I’m doing something that isn’t right. Do you get that?”

“Yea…” Mingi trails off, looking away from your face to stare at the wall instead. “Is all love like this?”

“I have no clue.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship if I’m not going to feel anything. That doesn’t sound enjoyable.”

“No, not at all.”

So why did you continue? Why the fuck did you both think it was a decent idea to let things blow up in your faces like this? Now you can barely stand to look at each other, let alone be in the same room as each other. It makes every damn class awkward and tense. Recently it’s escalated to a point where you refuse to sit near him, finding a new seat across the lecture hall just so that you don’t have to think about the things you did with him while sitting in the back. Yeosang stays at your side in those classes but casts glance after glance back at Mingi throughout the class.

It didn’t take long for Yeosang to confront you about what happened either. He first yelled at you for the sweatshirt incident, but that quickly turned into concern as he recalled the state Mingi was in when he returned home.

“What happened?”

“You were right.”

God, you almost wish that Yeosang had laughed in your face and said that he knew he was right. You just wanted him to lecture you and tell you off for what you did. Instead, you got a sympathetic sigh and disappointed stares.

“You were happier when the two of you were simply friends and nothing more.”

“I know. I knew that a while ago.”

“So why did you keep doing it?”

Why did you keep doing it? A fucking good question because you certainly don’t know the answer. You know that it became a habit in a short amount of time and quickly developed into a bad one. So maybe you have Yeosang to thank for the reason why you’re pacing in Mingi’s apartment with two fingers picking at your lower lip as though it will make you feel better. He told you that you should at least get closure. Closure for what? A ruined friendship?

“Uh, that girl… the girl I like started dating someone,” Mingi says after several minutes of silence. You whip your head to blink at him in surprise.

“And…?”

Mingi shrugs, obviously unsure of what to say next. He turns away from you. Your pacing comes to a halt at last, and you just stand in the middle of the room, staring at Mingi with glaring eyes.

“Makes me wonder, you know? What all of it was for.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep harsh words from leaving your lips. In the time apart, you have realized that not all of this was Mingi’s fault — you are at fault just as much as he is. That apology is so fucking hard to get out because you’re so upset with yourself for letting this happen.

“I’m sorry for getting us into this mess,” Mingi says, bringing a hand up to run through his dark hair. “I k-know there were th-things I sh–”

“It’s not only your fault.” You muster up enough courage to say the five words, then your voice seems to die in the back of your throat. Heaving a deep sigh, you force yourself to continue the thought. “I messed up too. I’m at fault too. I’m sorry for pinning all the blame on you. I was ashamed and embarrassed with myself and my actions, so I truly am sorry for yelling at you the way I did.”

“I… no, I did mess up a lot. Even if you agreed to it, it was still initially my fault. I-I’ve been hiding s-something from you.” Mingi’s words cause your heart to drop. You drop your arms by your side, barely able to look at his guilt-ridden face. Something tells you that you don’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say.

“What the hell is it, Mingi? And why did you wait until now to mention it?”

“I – well, I was scared to tell you initially. Then I was scared to leave without having a… I don’t know a special moment with you?”

“What are you talking about, Mingi?” Your throat feels tight all of a sudden, and you don’t dare look away from the man’s face. It’s his turn to pace now, walking back and forth before you as he wrings his hands together. “Song Mingi.”

“I’m transferring to another school at the end of the week. There is no girl I’m into. Min Hyerin is just a random classmate that I thought could pass as a crush. I-I’ve kinda, uh, I’ve liked you this whole time.”

Your jaw all but drops at his sudden revelation. All the air leaves your lungs, and you can’t look at him any longer, turning to face the wall instead.

“I got scared when you were talking about liking that guy from whatever class it was. Psychology? I don’t know… I was scared, and that’s why I suggested the idea of learning together. Then when we talked about it after I while, you said that you didn’t feel a thing when we were doing things together. All the hand-holding and the kissing and the fake dates… I wanted them to be real.”

“What the fuck?” You hiss out between gritted teeth. You are trying your best to hold your tears back, but reality is catching up too quickly for you to handle. “What the actual fuck, Mingi? You — you manipulated me? I-I don’t even know what the fuck I’m supposed to say. I just–” You can’t even finish the sentence, tears hitting your cheeks before you know it.

“I didn’t want to leave without shooting my shot at least. I’ve been planning to leave for a few months, but I was too scared to hurt you. I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“Didn’t want to hurt me? You choose to manipulate me and use me for some sick fantasy of getting off to me while lying the whole time? Throwing away our relationship and using me? Abusing your position as my friend to get in my pants because you were jealous? What the fuck?” Mingi freezes under your barrage of words, seeming to shrink smaller and smaller as you continue. “If you wanted to shoot your damn shot, you should have been honest! Instead of using me and my firsts as a way of getting what you wanted! I hope your fucking happy with yourself.”

“I-I, no, I never meant to hurt you,” Mingi stammers.

“Then what did you mean to do then? Because I’m fucking confused and hurt beyond belief right now.”

“I…” Mingi trails off, unable to finish the sentence. You can barely see him through your tears, and no matter how many times you blink, you can’t get rid of them.

“Just get the fuck out. Just go. I don’t want to see you or hear you or talk to you. I don’t want you in my life anymore. Just fucking go.”

“I can’t. I can’t leave you alone like this. I–”

“Fuck off, Mingi. You can leave me alone like this, and you will. I don’t want any more damn apologies. Nothing is going to fix what you did. So just fucking go.”

Mingi stares at you for several moments without saying a word. You refuse to meet his gaze. Just thinking about being in the same room as him makes you want to vomit, and it causes a physical pain to constrict in your chest. How the hell did you end up here? Things weren’t supposed to turn out like this, things weren’t ever supposed to become this way, and yet here you are. There Mingi is. And between you — the ruins of a crumbled relationship.

And just like that, Song Mingi walks out of your apartment and out of your life, leaving a giant dork sized whole in your memories, but to you, it only feels like a waste. It was a waste of firsts and special moments. The effort put into a pointless relationship that ended in flames because you weren’t careful enough.

Perhaps one day, you will regret it and feel bad for cutting him off in such a cruel and hasty way, but you block Mingi’s number and all of his social media accounts. Yeosang gets the hint not to mention him even though he still keeps in contact with Mingi on occasion. He asked you to move into Mingi’s empty apartment space, and you said no at first. It was too much to think about, being in the same house where he lived, and it made you think about all the things you did together while there too much. Then Yeosang offered to move into Mingi’s room so that you could have his own instead, insisting that he was worried about you and wanted to at least look after you in some way. So you decided to agree and move into Yeosang’s old room. Eventually, you get used to the new arrangement and learn to deal with the bad memories that linger in your mind as you live there.

It takes time to do so – six months to be exact – with the passing of the semester and summer break and the entrance of the new school year that bleeds into the beginning of December far too quickly for your liking. It’s a cold and snowy Wednesday morning when Jung Wooyoung sits beside you in psychology, and yet it feels like nothing you’ve felt before. The cold doesn’t leave a mark on you, only Wooyoung does, a branded image over your cold heart when he turns and smiles at you, brushing long strands of black hair out of his eyes.

“Hi, I’m Jung Wooyoung. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ a/n: hi and welcome to the end of this way-too-long fic! i would really really love feedback and would love to know what you think of this part, as it is setting up for the future installments of the series, but it could be read on its own for its own story. but anyway! let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading :(

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botwstoriesandsuch · 3 years

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Finally finished this! Sorry I’m a bit late.

Made this song in pairing with a new Revalink soulmark fic: Paraphrase

Based on a prompt @motherhyrule (Happy Birthday and thanks!)

Read it on AO3 or, here...

Chapter 1: Holes

There were holes in the sky.

While the artificial blue glow of Vah Medoh was a constant reminder of abnormal circumstances of this view—looking out into the east, you could be fooled for a moment to believe in serenity.

The details of the great, inky abyss were blurred by the occasional grey cloud, crawling towards the light of a decaying moon. Its pale, crescent complexion gave a humble glow to the dancing seas of grass and the motionless hills of glistening lake water. Below, wooden huts embraced one another on the edges of an ancient spire. The winds had crafted a fine sculpture, the unique silhouette of Rito Village cast faint shadows on Lake Totori.

There was distant whistling from either the cutting breeze or a bored village guard, perhaps leaning against his spear, dreaming of slumber.

There's a fire, somewhere. A spiral of smoke rises with a delicious aroma fantastic enough to reach the heights of Medoh. Someone making a late-night stew, under the dotted, broken sky.

If you could tear your eyes away from the nature down below, the navy blue canvas would still be there to greet you—a perfect night that cloaked any traces of the sun, as if time was always meant to be this way. Unchanging, and ever an elegant, unrivaled mix of blue, black, and grey.

But of course, unchanging was not everlasting. The perfect canvas was pierced by the frozen heights of Hebra, and flaming stars. Whole armies of them were scattered across the sky, as if the goddess had flicked a handful of embers at the night, burning through the blue and into an unknown.

"I heard that stars are actually holes into the heavens." Link finally said. "Like...They break through the sky, and at night you can look through them and see the great beyond." He leaned back, shifting himself into a more comfortable position on the rocky cliff.

The ghost beside him raised an eyebrow, wings tucked behind his back.

"Oh? And where exactly did you hear that?"

Silence.

The boy looks out to the distant mountains, wreathed in grey clouds with filtered moonlight. When the wind blows his golden hair just the right way, you could catch a glimpse of a familiar expression.

"...I'm not too sure."

Revali nodded, looking back into the night. He stood beside the hero, and let a quiet sigh escape him, the turquoise flames that circled around the Rito seemed to rise and fall with his chest. "Well. I cannot confirm or deny such a thing, but I imagine it's a decent enough fairy tale to entertain the fledglings."

Link scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Really? They don't give you a big ghost book on how all of life works? What's the point of being dead if you don't know the answer to all the fancy questions?"

"I appear to have missed Hylia's educational spirit lecture. Perhaps my schedule was busy at the time. I do apologize."

"Don't apologize to me! You're the one who missed a once-in-a-afterlife-time opportunity."

"..."

"...Too soon?"

"No, it was just a horrible joke."

"Pfft. Well OK, Mr. 'Well I'll be plucked'"

"I don't think I'm going to accept criticism from someone who's sense of humor isn't even a year old."

"Aha...Fair enough."

A chuckle. A nod. A smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Silence.

The moon crawls further west. Winds start to die with conversation.

The ghost sighs again, but of course, no breath escapes him. Something itches in the back of his mind, and he looks up at Medoh.

Her phantom blue eyes pierce both mortal and incorporeal, yet there's a tenderness in the way her head tilts towards Revali—every so slightly so as not to wake the whole kingdom with the groan of gears. The gesture is wordlessly understood by her pilot, something about speaking the unspoken. He clicks his tongue.

I don't remember flipping a relationship advice switch in your control unit...

Medoh's lights glow brighter and dim, playfully.

The Rito shakes his head.

No, he thinks again. It's better this way.

The Champion looks out towards Hyrule Castle, Medoh's red laser aimed directly into the heart of the swirling malice. From this view, it’s almost beautiful. Like layered petals of a rose...

I cannot wait to burn it to the ground.

"Yeah..." Link replied. "Don't worry, Revali. It'll be different this time. I won't let you down, again."

The Rito blinked. "Ah. Did I...say that outloud?"

Link nodded, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "You always seem in such deep thought when looking at Medoh. Your face gets a lot more s—uh...I don't know... " He trailed off, making the wise decision to not finish the sentence. Afterall, he wanted to hang out for a little bit longer before Revali's glares punted him to the Akkalain Sea.

Nonetheless, Revali grimaced. Looking at him? Acknowledging him? Oh, there was nothing worse in the world than that...

Time really can change anything.

"Hmph. Well," Revali turned his head back towards Medoh, "With Windblight gone, it's nice to actually have conversations...As unconventional as they may be." He makes sure that his smile can only be seen by the sky.

"She's good company."

Link picks at loose pebbles, tossing them off the cliff and letting gravity take them to new destinations. His hands are already coated in a dusty beige dust.

"Well, if Medoh ever becomes a bore. My schedule's always open." He chuckles. "I'm certainly a different sort of company in comparison, so I should be able to spice up your d—!"

"No."

The iciness of his tone runs Link's spine cold. He dares to look up at the Champion.

It takes all of Revali's strength to continue staring at the stars.

"You should really stop coming here, Link. You have a job to do, and so do I. You gain nothing by returning here each night."

He pauses, his beak clenched just a bit too tightly.

"You did well, avenging me, but now...Your job here is done, and there is more work to do. The fact that you keep visiting each night while the world fades away is pathetic, honestly. You banter and quip as if you have all the time in the world, as if everything doesn't depend on your success. Quit acting childish."

Silence. It drowns out the whistling wind.

Revali looks at the holes in the sky.

"It'll be morning in a few, so get lost. I don't need you here."

The Rito can feel the hero's eyes tearing into him.

= = = = = = =

"Careful now! Can't have you return with half a head. Can I?" Revali loosed an arrow just above Link's head, striking true in a Bokoblin's right eye.

Link whips around just in time to see the monster drop dead, just a foot away from where the knight stood. He turns back and gives the Rito a thumbs up in gratitude.

"Eye think that solves that problem." Link groans and rolls his eyes, but Revali smirks at the grin he attempts to hide. "Ah...One of the best things about these occasions is that you're in no position to quip back at me with your hands full like that." Revali shoots him a wink. "Perhaps I'll interpret your silence as overwhelming awe for my verbal abilities."

The Rito bows left and right, playfully. "Thank you, thank you. It takes a great deal of practice, but perhaps you'll grace my level of skill one day."

Link signs as best he can with the Master Sword in his left grip.

"You're an asshole."

"Perhaps. But it's your fault for sticking around!"

"On your left..." He suddenly says.

There's no hesitation as Revali moves his head out of the way, letting Link swing his sword over his shoulder. A brilliant beam of blue light escapes the edge of his sword, the disc of energy making contact with a Bokoblin's neck, slicing it asunder mid-roar.

"Hmm. Now that's just breath taki—"

"Shut UP!" Link says, knocking an elbow into his ribs. He starts to sign again. "Let's keep heading east. We need to close this pincer quickly. I'd like to finish before lunch..."

The Rito scans the snow covered path, littered with monster guts and blood. Deep reds and purple stain the pristine, crisp morning. The sky is a deep green, pine trees covering the day, dressed in coats of white. The breeze blows the smell of rotting corpses and hickory his way.

"Alright. Let's get a move on. Don't need the Princesses yelling at us again."

"A bit late for that, don't you think?"

The boys both look up in time to see a large burst of water erupt from a nearby cliff. It cascades into a shimmering slide, that freezes as it flows. A bright red Zora flips through the air and descends on it, landing delicately in front of the two. She gives a warm smile that could melt the winter.

"Shall I assume you ran into some chuchu troubles, again?"

Revali scoffed. "That was one time!"

"Hehehe...chuchu go 'sluuurrrp...'"

"Plus, that incident was entirely a certain knight's fault. I've been nothing but incredibly efficient and productive, since then."

"And your tail feathers are all the better for it!"

Revali thwacked Link with his bow to shut him up. The knight rubbed the back of his head with an "Ow..." and shot a rude glare, but the Rito continued. "So where is the Princess?"

Mipha gestured uphill to where she had come from, her magical waterfall already beginning to melt away. "We finished cleaning up the other end of the Tabantha path. She's met up with Urbosa and Daruk by one of the bridges."

The Zora smiles as she looks between Revali and Link. "I volunteered to check on you two while the others headed back. Neither of you need help cleaning chuchu slime out of your hair, yes? I do have the pliers, this time."

Revali's rageful squawk was drowned out by Link's laughter.

Before the trio's banter could truly serenade with the sounds of the forest, Mipha was off to regroup with the others, and Link was soaring in the sky.

The sky was open and clear, not a speck of grey clouded the air. The sun was perched comfortably on the heights of Tabantha ridge, painting the horizon with strokes of orange, the distance blushing in the morning's presence.

The wind flipped Link's hair back and forth, so he finished tying the braid behind his neck, woven tightly with a single, Prussian blue feather. Its tip looked like someone had dipped it in the moon's pale glow.

Braid or no, the heights above Lake Totori were quite cold, and Link nuzzled himself further into Revali's soft feathers. If he were any softer, it wouldn't be out of the question to drown in him.

"You're distracting me." Revali craned his neck back, raising an eyebrow at his passenger. "Keep it together, back there."

The hero shrugged his shoulders. "It's cold."

"I told you to drink another elixir before I took off."

"I wasn't cold then! Besides," He flopped back into the Rito's soft down. "This is adequate protection." Link's words were slightly muffled as he spoke.

Revali sighed. "You're insufferable..."

Eying the destination down below, the Rito rolled his shoulders to get Link's attention. "Keep steady. We're almost there." He started to dip forward.

"And try not to go flying, I imagine it won't work out well for you."

Before Link could even process his words, his stomach started to drop. Falling fast, Revali arched nearly perpendicular to the ground, his bright blue scarf flapping behind him. The Hylian on his back could do nothing but grip onto his armour for dear life, clothes flapping wildly. His loose sleeves caught the wind, pushing them back to reveal pale gold letters, etched in the underside of his right forearm.

Leaving so soon?

The wind rushed by Link's ears, and the sky quickly faded from the cerulean glow of morning, to the snow laced air of the Hebra. What was once broad strokes of indistinct colors soon morphed into the intricate faults, flaws, and edges of towering grey mountain peaks. With the heavens stolen from them, and the frozen earth quickly coming to greet them, Revali quickly opened his wings to catch the air, swooping just above the ground and shooting forward towards the Flight Range.

Rows of cool safflina and wildberries whizzed by, the scent of smoked boar drawing closer and closer. Revali could practically feel Link's appetite from aura alone. Although, the fact that his grip on his back was starting to tighten didn't exactly keep it subtle, either.

"I left the stew going before we headed out for the mission. It should be perfect by now..." He tucked his wings into himself with a quick twirl as he shot through a narrow pass.

The cold updrafts of the Flight Range now biting into his face; the Rito let his wings expand with a few more great flaps, before landing gracefully on the railing of the wooden platform.

Link practically soared off Revali's back and bounded straight for the simmering pot.

"'Thank you, Revali, for giving me a ride across all of Tabantha without asking for so much as a rupee in return!' Oh, you're so welcome, my dear hero. It's always a pleasure to aid a flightless Hylian in need." He shook his head as he made his way into the hut.

"'Oh, but really Revali! The speed at which you travel, and the strength required to take on my loathsome person as you fly is truly something to admire. It's a miracle you took me with you at all.' Why, you are much too generous with your compliments, Link. I have half a mind to write this all down for—MmMph?!"

In a brilliant move of both telling Revali to shut the fuck up, while also sharing their meal, Link shoved a ladleful of delicious stew in the Rito's beak.

Warm, savoury stew trickled down his throat, banishing the cold from his body in mere moments. His tastebuds were nestled with flavours of nutmeg, tender meat, and the delicate heat of a perhaps a single, spicy pepper.

Link's expression was equal parts, "Will you shut up now?" and "So how's it taste?"

"Not too bad...The prime meat I procured is obviously the main event. But your seasoning skills are certainly something of note..." Revali made his way to one of the cabinets, as Link rolled his eyes.

The Rito set his bow beside the Master Sword, leaning it against the painted wood. His eyes lingered on it for a bit too long, before he scoffed and continued on his routine.

Quiver on the counter; bomb arrows wrapped properly; armour loosened and set aside; scarf—

The feathers on Revali's neck suddenly floofed up at Link's touch. But he didn't dare turn around and risk losing the sensation.

He carefully unfolded the fabric around Revali's neck, and drew it off his shoulder. He wrapped it around himself, and signed at the Rito, "Mine, now."

The Rito chuckled, before turning back around to look at the hero, now adorned with far too much blue. Blue tunic, blue scarf, and sapphire eyes—it wouldn't be out of the question to mistake him for the sky.

Link stretched out his hand, and traced the edges of Revali's face, eventually falling down his neck, and towards his shoulders. His fingers eventually hovered over some familiar words that wrapped down the left side of his neck and down his shoulder.

You should give yourself more credit.

They both did nothing but smile at each for a moment, leaning closer and succumbing to the moment. Revali could already feel Link's breath, and see the bits of snow still sticking to his (horribly) braided hair.

The Hylian saw something curious in the Rito's expression as he planted a kiss on the tip of his beak. Looking back up at his jade eyes, he couldn't help but smile wide. Revali cocked an eyebrow.

"Something to say?"

Quiet. The fire chuckled in the background.

Link finally leaned in and whispered to him.

"You smell like shit."

Revali scoffed loudly before shoving Link to the carpet, where he burst out laughing, the wind carrying it to the spirits above.

"Gods, you're insufferable. Why do I settle for you..."

Link unsuccessfully attempted to toss a pillow in his face in revenge—Revali catching it with ease.

"Beats me! Now come here, you stinky bird." He patted the space in front of the fire. No doubt he wanted to sit between his wings again

"Stew or no, I need you to keep me toasty."

In no time, Revali had sat down and wrapped himself around Link, resting his beak on his head.

A hole in the ceiling let sunlight trickle on them as they warmed up.

= = = = = = =

Link finally sighed, the sound falling off into the void below.

"You-I can't-It was never..." He trails off, before chucking another pebble off the cliff, shaking his head.

"...I'm sorry. I know that you...That we're not really...friends or whatever...I don't mean to force you into anything uncomfortable. I owe you that much..." He looked up at the spirit, a determined look on his face.

"But, don't worry. Whatever mess I was before, whatever person you hated 100 years ago. They're gone, now. I promise I'm different. I promise I won't repeat whatever mistakes I made with you."

Revali just wants to die all over again.

"Well. That's good to hear. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, hero..." He walks forward, so he can't see his face, pointing a translucent feather far out east.

"I'd say your next objection should be Rudania. It's the closest. You can backtrack through whatever roads you've already trailed through getting here." The Rito then waved towards some glistening summits just a bit south. "Although, you said you've been to Kakariko and Hateno, yes? You could probably trek to Zora's Domain from there. The Zora will no doubt be a great asset to your further adventures—"

"Who was I closest to?"

Revali knew it was impossible to feel cold at this point, but he felt something shiver nonetheless.

"What do you mean?"

"Like...the pilots I mean. Was I...particularly close with any of them?"

"Well how should I know!" Revali snapped. He immediately regretted it seeing the look in Link's eyes. "I mean...sorry..."

Silence.

"...Mipha would be overjoyed to see you, I'm sure." He pointed again towards the cliffs surrounding Zora's Domain. "She had quite the heart...She'll make better company than I, I'm sure."

"Mhm...Alright." Link nodded to himself.

"But whatever you choose, don't try taking on Naboris, yet. Urbosa was one of the strongest warriors that even I've ever met. So I imagine that what awaits there is...deserving of more preparation."

The moon escaped from the clutches of a grey cloud, and the two of them were bathed in moonlight.

The knight's sword on his back glistens.

"I'll start making preparations tomorrow, and I'll finally be out of your hair." Link scratched the back of his head. "Although...I hope you don't mind if I come back every now and then to get pointers on using your Gale. I really only used it that one time when you gave it to me, and I've been a bit scared ever since, aha..."

Revali nodded. "That would be a more productive use of your time, yes."

Link finally stood, adjusting the strap of his sword around his shoulder.

"S-So...with Mipha. I actually heard from Kass that...uh he's—well you see, I figured you could confirm if she actually—"

"Stop." His response was as sudden as thunder. Link started sputtering again.

"S-Sorry. I know you just s—"

"Stop doing that. Stop trying to learn about the past, there's nothing for you there." Revali poked a feather at Link's head, which surprisingly made physical contact as he flinched away. "You've been given a gift, you understand? You have the luxury of being unburdened by the pains and memories of 100 years ago, while the rest of us have been stuck wallowing in what we once knew for over a century. Things that we can never attain now that we are dead." He glared, eyes sharp enough to stab into Link's flesh.

"It'd be an insult to the rest of us to throw away such a gift. So stop being ungrateful, and move on."

Silence.

Revali sighed, turning back towards Medoh. "Now get los—"

"You have no right to speak to me like that!"

The Rito whipped around. "Excuse me?"

"You don't know what it's like!" Link stomped a foot down. "You don't know what it's like, to have no attachments, no nothing to grasp onto!"

The Hylian shook his head, looking at his hands. "You're dead because of my failures, and for that, I'm truly sorry. I really am. But..." He looked the Rito, dead in the eyes. "But now I have nothing of value. Nothing to tell me what I'm worth, besides being a fighter. Besides defeating the Calamity. I don't know what kind of person I need to be," He waves a hand at Revali, "Or even what person I should try not to be. I can't...I don't want to just be nothing. Nothing but a sword and useless snippets of a dead past.

"So don't try and tell me there's nothing for me in the past. I need to know what I was, what I lost, and what I did wrong. N-Not just for me, but for everyone's sake! I want to truly know what this is all for, even if it hurts me..."

Link looked down, caressing his right wrist. "I want to know...what it was like to be complete...at the very least..."

Revali looked him up and down, something clawing up the inside of his chest, threatening to escape as dangerous words.

"...Let me see your arm."

"What—?"

"Hurry up, and just come."

Link cautiously stepped closer to Revali, extending his right arm towards him, like a handshake. But he roughly tugged him closer and folded the sleeve of his Rito garb away, exposing the skin to the crisp night air.

Pale gold letters adorned Link's inner arm, running from his wrist to his inner elbow.

Why did you think it was impossible?

The Rito nodded to himself. He had noted the first word being different when he had first reunited with Link, but it put him at ease—and completely shattered something—to have his suspicions confirmed.

"Do you know what this is, hero?"

"Yeah, it's a soulmark. This is probably what my soulmate 100 years ago said when they—"

"No." Revali let his arm fall, turning away. "It's a soulmark alright, but your soulmate is very much alive."

"Wh-What?!" Link started to walk up to Revali. "T-That's impossible! I-It's been over a hundred—"

"That's not the soulmark you had when I met you." Revali said simply. "You died. You were revived. You are adorned with a new mark, and are destined for someone new. Or someones. Or, maybe your soulmate is just yourself, it really depends..." He turned his head back.

Link was just staring at his arm. He bore no smile, but Revali could see the new fire in his eyes.

"It's like I said. It'd be an insult to go digging up the past. But I suppose I can't stop you..." Revali continued to make his way to Medoh. "You want something to fight for? Fight for that..."

The moon disappeared behind another cloud, and the glow of Medoh was all that bathed them. Link finally looked up, calling after the ghost in the mist.

"I...Thank you, Revali. But just so you know..." The Rito Champion turned, staring directly at the hero's determined expression.

"This doesn't change what I want. I still intend to know who I was."

There was quiet as they each looked at their ghosts.

Revali sighed, giving a sad nod.

"I know."

He disappeared in glowing blue flames, the embers falling towards the stars.

#if you reblog this revali comes to your house and gives you a hug. it's a proven fact #revalink #paraphrase revalink #mudkip music #botw fanfiction #botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #soulmark au #botw soulmark au

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Danger: Crown |1| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 3.7k

Lesson 7: allies can be found in unlikely places.

Previous: Onyx >> Crown: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Stalemate

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

[ Taglist will be reblogged! Send a dm or an ask to be added! ]

They end up in front of the palace.

“Seriously?” Kevin hisses, hidden in the shadow of a large building. “We went through all those weird alleys and streets when we literally could have just taken the straight path here?”

“You want to try tracking magic?” Jacob retorts. His snippy look disappears, though, when he turns to the marble palace glinting softly under the cloudy moonlight. “It’s here. I’m sure.”

Juyeon brings a hand to his face. “Figures,” he mutters. “Anything else would be too easy.” He sighs into his palm. “Kevin, do you remember how to get to the west gardens? I remember there was a tunnel there that’ll let us into the palace.”

“Tunnel?” Kevin’s expression clears. “Oh, right. That one.” His eyes turn wistful and Juyeon knows he’s remembering better times, when they were younger, free to play around and explore, not stuck on a dangerous quest to find a handful of jewels stolen by an intelligent, murderous, power-hungry queen. He doesn’t say anything, though, just closes his eyes for a moment. “I think we need to go around back. Might need to knock out a few guards on the way.”

“Not a problem,” Juyeon replies. Next to him, Jacob looks to be in similar agreement.

His heart stings. No one was in the prison with him, not a single person other than the assigned guards and later Jaehyun. No prisoners, no rebels, no knights…

And no certain Valkyrie, the one whose missing whereabouts have twisted Jacob’s kind eyes into sharp slits, soft lips thinning to pale lines as he stares at the gleaming palace just ahead.

It’s still unnerving, Jacob’s transformation since the last time Juyeon saw him before this quest. Gentleness used to emanate from his gaze, but now, even when he smiles, an edge of desperation and fury lodges itself into the set of his jaw, in the fingers curled by his sides. Not for the first time, Juyeon wishes none of this had happened, that all of the deaths and crown nonsense will just turn out to be some long, drawn-out nightmare. When he pinches himself, though, it hurts.

No dreams here, except those of jewel-toned roses and shades of the departed.

Kevin leads the way, slinking through shadows untouched by the few torches lit on the sides of buildings for light. As they shift around the palace walls, Juyeon’s hand reaches up towards his throat, clutching the gold insignia still wrapped around his neck. He’s been doing that more and more often since his visit to the gray mage’s shrine, grasping at the last memory of a dead best friend like the small symbol of a king and queen will bring him luck.

Though if it’s lucky, it certainly hasn’t given any sign of that just yet.

“Here,” Kevin finally whispers, jerking his head towards a white-gated expanse of grass and flowers. It looks so different in the cloudy night, colors muted and darker than Juyeon remembers. It could just be the lack of moonlight, but the fact that Somin is now the one in charge of it and not her sibling, the former queen, probably has something to do with it.

Swallowing, Juyeon peeks out from the building they’re hiding behind. Two guards stand at attention. Not too bad. A shake of Jacob’s head tells him there’s no immediate danger from magic either.

Well. He looks down at his hands, lined and crusted with blackened blood from taking out his anger on a set of iron prison bars. They sting, but he can still wield a sword with some proficiency. Not the dual blades, though. Besides the fact that he left them at the arena, Juyeon would be perfectly happy not holding the traditional ivory weapons ever again.

“Need to get closer,” Juyeon mumbles, almost to himself. He steps forward –

Two more guards appear around the corner of the palace just as he’s put a foot out. He sucks in a breath and Kevin pulls him back, elbow hitting the building wall with a dull thud.

Ow.

Rubbing his arm, Juyeon peeks out again, careful to keep himself in shadow. They must be switching shifts. Good news, for once. Changing the guard now means more time before the next set of soldiers comes along, so less chance of discovering unconscious bodies before Juyeon has managed to get deeper into the palace.

The original two guards peel off from the gate, leaving their spots to the new ones. They begin to walk in the direction of Juyeon’s building.

They’re talking, but too faintly for Juyeon to hear just yet. He brings a finger to his lips, looking expectantly at his friends, as the guards come closer. And closer.

“– so boring,” a disgruntled voice says.

The other snorts. “You haven’t had crown duty yet. That’s so much worse.”

Crown duty?

Juyeon doesn’t dare look back at Kevin or Jacob for fear of missing something more. He leans forward, ears straining to catch anything else.

“You really think that’s worse?” the first guard asks.

“At least outside, there’s a little change in scenery. If you’re standing in that hallway for hours…” The voices fade away, leaving Juyeon to stew over their words in silence.

“Crown duty,” Jacob whispers.

Kevin nods. “The crown must be in the palace, too.”

It could be a stroke of luck. If both the onyx stone and the crown are in the palace, if they could manage to take both in one go…

“Come on.” Juyeon pushes himself off the wall, trying to tamp down the hope rising in his chest. No sense in hoping for good luck just yet, but there’s a chance they could pull this off, a chance he has to take. “Let’s knock some guards out first.”

. . . . .

One sneak attack and two unconscious guards later, Juyeon and Jacob have dragged the bodies behind a large bush and Kevin has found the tunnel opening, a hatch under a large boulder. He slips in after Juyeon before Jacob closes the hatch from outside. A faint scraping noise sounds as he shoves the boulder back into place, and then the mage shifts into the tunnel, landing right on top of his cousin.

Kevin groans from the tunnel floor. “Jacob, why.”

Juyeon can almost see the apologetic smile in Jacob’s voice as he helps Kevin up in the darkness. “Sorry.”

“As you should be.” Kevin huffs. “Where do we go now?”

“This tunnel leads to a few others.” Juyeon traces a hand on the walls, feeling tiny bits of packed dirt crumble against his fingers. “I don’t remember exactly where all of them go, but…” He stops, turning to where he thinks Jacob is. “Jacob, is there magic on the crown? Could you sense that? Or is it just on the stones?”

Jacob shifts in the dark. “It’s not as strong without the stones, but there is some magic on it. Probably a little more than normal, given that several mages took the jewels out, so their traces are there as well.” A pause. “Do we split up?”

“No.” Kevin’s answer is immediate. “There are only three of us. If we split up, one person goes off alone, and if something happens the other two won’t know anything about it.”

Juyeon agrees. “None of us know the tunnels very well, either. I think our best bet is to follow your sense of where the magic is, Jacob. We’ll try to find one, then the other.”

No one argues in the pause that follows. Juyeon nods. “All right, let’s go. Jacob, we’ll follow you.”

They walk in silence, footsteps padding softly on the tunnel’s dirt floor. One fork comes, then another. Each time, Jacob holds out an arm, barring the other two, before heading in one direction or the other. With every turn they take, Juyeon grows less and less sure of where they are. He’s been to the palace many times, but even then, he hasn’t seen it all. Underground, there’s no chance of him being able to keep the layout in mind.

But something tells him they’re going the right way. A tug in his gut, a slight nudge pushing him forward…

Juyeon stops suddenly. Kevin crashes into him from behind, but he doesn’t move, not even when Jacob’s footsteps pause and asks what happened.

The tug. The subtle, familiar push in his mind, moving his feet for him.

The stone is calling him.

“Juyeon?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, swallowing. “I just… I feel the stone. I think.”

“Getting closer, then.” Jacob shifts in the tunnel, then grabs Juyeon’s wrist and pulls him forward. “We’re following you, now. Your sense will be a lot more accurate than mine.”

Back at home, when Juyeon’s father would wear the crown for official proceedings, the pull of the stone always felt comforting to him, a reminder of his lineage and his family. Now, though, it feels cold. Sinister. Tainted, maybe, tainted with the fact that with every step Juyeon takes, he walks into deeper and deeper danger. Only Jacob’s hand on his wrist and the steady sound of Kevin’s footsteps keep him from stopping where he is and bolting out of the tunnel.

He doesn’t notice the tunnel sloping upward, doesn’t notice his breaths becoming more labored as he walks up, up, up. In fact, he nearly runs into the hatch at the end of the tunnel, only stopping just in time.

A hatch.

They’re at the surface.

“Great,” Kevin mutters. “So do we go out or…?”

Juyeon swallows. “It’s only the king and queen in residence, right? Younghoon and Somin?” The fewer people they encounter, the better.

“Servants,” Kevin says. “And guards. What if we come across them?”

What if they come across them, indeed. Will Juyeon kill them? Knock them out? Let them pass? What will he do if some unsuspecting, innocent servant has the bad luck to pass Juyeon by?

“We’ll see,” Juyeon finally says, hand drifting to the sword at his waist. He hopes he won’t have to use it, but better safe than sorry. “We need the jewel.”

Feeling around in the darkness, Kevin finds the latch that secures the door. He flips it and Juyeon slowly pushes up the slab of wood, squinting into the room.

It’s dark. He can’t see much. There are no sounds, however, and if nothing is lighting the room, that probably means no one is in here. Juyeon lifts the door further. “Come on.”

Relief floods Juyeon’s mind when he pulls himself out of the tunnel and no random voices yell in surprise. Kevin follows, then Jacob. “Where are we?”

Juyeon frowns, trying to think. He can’t see much, but even then, the room doesn’t look very familiar. Next to him, Kevin seems similarly confused.

Then the door opens.

. . . . .

It takes less than a second for Juyeon to leap at the newcomer, sword flashing through the air. A choked sound issues from the servant’s throat – his attire looks like that of a servant, anyway, Juyeon can’t really tell since the only source of light is the lantern the servant is carrying – as the blade comes to rest under his chin. The door shuts with a soft bang.

Adrenaline courses through Juyeon’s veins as he holds the sword in place, arms shaking slightly with terror. “Kevin, watch the door.”

“Juyeon?”

Head whipping back to the servant he’s holding at sword point, Juyeon blinks once, twice, trying to recall the semi-familiar voice that just spoke his name. Where, and when…

He nearly drops his sword with the realization. “Haknyeon?”

A trembling smile begins to spread across Haknyeon’s face. “It’s really you?”

Juyeon wants to mirror Haknyeon’s smile, he really does. But he can’t tell just yet if that’s the smile of seeing someone he once knew or the smile of knowing exactly who to report this to. The sword doesn’t lower. “Depends on what you’ll do with that information.”

“I thought you were in prison,” Haknyeon breathes. “Queens, you…”

Well, that’s a bit of good news. At least word of his escape hasn’t spread to the palace just yet. Though it doesn’t change the fact that Haknyeon could very well betray them at this moment with a loud enough scream.

And from a singular experience that he does not want to repeat, Juyeon knows the boy has the lung capacity to pull it off.

“If you scream, I won’t hesitate to cut your throat,” Juyeon says lowly, refusing to let any semblance of relief creep across his face. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know.” Haknyeon’s smile turns into something like a smirk. “You’re looking for the crown, aren’t you?”

Behind Juyeon, Kevin sucks in a breath. Haknyeon’s smirk grows wider. “It isn’t exactly news,” he says, sounding almost giddy. “The queen’s been steaming about all the other jewels going missing, even though she hasn’t said anything explicit. She was the happiest she’s ever been when you were captured, but now that you’ve escaped…” He almost laughs, a hand coming up to his mouth to muffle his snort. “This is perfect.”

Juyeon glances at Jacob, at Kevin. Both wear similar expressions of bemusement.

Is Haknyeon actually someone to be trusted?

“Why are you so happy about that?” Juyeon asks carefully.

Haknyeon’s gaze shutters, the smile disappearing from his face. “Being the leverage for Her Majesty to control her king has the surprising side effect of making me hate her very much,” he says, eyes dark. “Younghoon isn’t supporting her of his own free will, you know. Somin knows who to keep close so he stays under her hand.”

Memories of visiting Younghoon’s domain, seeing the friendship between the current king and his favorite servant – not even a servant, really, more of a close companion in the wake of his parents’ deaths – rush through Juyeon’s mind. It makes sense, choosing Haknyeon to keep Younghoon in place.

There’s no way he can be sure that Haknyeon’s telling the truth. He has no proof, no evidence to back up his claim that he’s merely an unwilling pawn of the queen being used to keep her king in line. But the loathing in his eyes when he speaks of Somin, the suppressed rage when he talks of leverage and his best friend, the king… they speak volumes for what he feels.

Juyeon pulls his sword back slightly, decreasing the pressure on Haknyeon’s throat. “If I lower this sword and let you free, what will you?”

“Ask if I can help you.” Haknyeon answers without hesitation. “You came in through that tunnel, didn’t you? I know this palace and the tunnels inside and out. Younghoon showed them to me when I was brought here – he wanted me to know how to escape if Her Majesty ever decided he wasn’t performing up to standard. I don’t know where the crown is exactly, but I can tell you where you’re going and help you avoid guards and places that are busy even at night.”

It sounds too good to be true. A personal guide, a guide who knows the palace like the back of his hand, ready and willing to help him find the jewel and the crown? Juyeon wavers, on the cusp of letting Haknyeon free, but doubt forces him to stay his hand.

What if he betrays them?

“Oh, come on.” Haknyeon crosses his arms, looking supremely unfazed by the blade still under his chin. “You know how to use a sword. I don’t. We’ll be in a bunch of tunnels, where you could kill me the second I do anything weird. Not saying I will, because I won’t, but you have the upper hand here.”

“He has a point,” Kevin says, stepping next to Juyeon. “We know the direction we want to go. Haknyeon is only going to tell us how to get there the fastest, and we’ll know if he’s betraying us. Right?”

Right. The tugging in Juyeon’s stomach, the pull that keeps him stepping forward – he’ll feel it growing stronger or weaker as he gets closer or further from the stone. If Haknyeon decides to mess with them, he’ll know.

At Jacob’s nod of agreement, Juyeon lowers the sword. Haknyeon massages his throat, smiling easily even as Juyeon stares him down with heavy suspicion in his gaze. “One wrong move and you’re dead.”

“I know, I know,” Haknyeon replies flippantly, already heading toward the hatch in the floor. “Now, are you going to follow me or not?”

. . . . .

It doesn’t seem like a mistake to trust Haknyeon. Once Juyeon pinpoints the direction in which he feels the tug of magic, Haknyeon effortlessly begins to navigate the tunnels, leaving the rest of them scrambling to follow. And he isn’t leading them astray – with every step he takes, the pull of the stone only grows stronger in his gut.

He almost relaxes. Almost.

And then he hears footsteps down the tunnels.

Haknyeon doesn’t stop walking, just keeps going forward until Juyeon grabs his wrist and spins him around. “You betrayed us.”

“What?” Haknyeon’s eyebrows furrow. “I didn’t –”

“Who’s there?”

The servant’s eyes go wide as Juyeon’s narrow. “Kevin,” he snarls in a whisper, “keep watch over him while I see who’s paying us a visit.”

A knife flashes in Haknyeon’s lantern light, coming to rest at his throat. Juyeon draws his own sword and steps forward once. Twice.

“Who –”

Juyeon lunges. His body hits another. They fall to the ground and whoever the other is tries to roll away, but Juyeon has the upper hand and he pins the man down, raising his sword.

“NO!”

Juyeon turns around as Haknyeon yells. “No – Juyeon!” The servant’s eyes flicker wildly in the light of his lantern. “Younghoon isn’t with the queen!”

Younghoon? Why’s he yelling about –

Haknyeon raises the lantern as far as he can without Kevin running him through. Enough light falls on Juyeon for him to realize who is staring back.

Kim Younghoon.

The Ivory King.

Harsh breathing fills the silence that follows as Juyeon tries to pull himself together. He has the king pinned beneath him, either by accident or by Haknyeon betraying them. Juyeon doesn’t want to believe the second, but the chances of the former are much slimmer.

“How did you contact each other,” Juyeon snarls, hand shaking around the handle of his sword. “How.”

“We didn’t,” Younghoon gasps. “I didn’t even know you were here.”

“Juyeon.” Jacob steps forward, putting a calming hand on Juyeon’s shoulder. “I think he’s telling the truth.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “Look at Haknyeon.”

He turns around slightly, fixing his gaze on the servant. With wide eyes and a trembling stare, it certainly doesn’t look like he expected any of this.

Juyeon glances at Kevin, who nods, just barely. He loosens his grip on Younghoon but doesn’t let go completely. “Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you now.”

Behind him, Haknyeon lets out a strangled gasp. Juyeon ignores it.

“I’m not on Somin’s side,” Younghoon gets out, eyes still fixed on the blade glinting above his neck. “Never have been, never will be.”

“Leverage,” Haknyeon reminds. “I’m her leverage on him. She has people on all the mages, too.”

“She’s smart.” Younghoon swallows. “She knows that if she can keep some loved one hostage, even the most powerful mage has the potential to fall under her control. And sadly, I’m no exception, though I at least have some room to maneuver under the guise of protecting Ivory citizens.”

“I understand.” And Juyeon does, he really does – what would he do, after all, if Kevin or his sister was being held hostage by someone as intelligent as Somin? “But that doesn’t change the fact that if I let you go, you could easily run up a tunnel and tell someone, purposely or accidentally, that we are here.” His grip tightens on the sword. “So unless you give me a really good reason –”

“I know where the crown is.” Younghoon takes a breath. “And the onyx stone.”

“… Where.”

“The crown jewels.” Juyeon can see the truth in Younghoon’s unwavering eyes. “They’re with the crown jewels.”

The crown jewels.

Oh, Juyeon is about to lose it. Somin stole his crown, pulled apart the gems, hid two, put one in a necklace, threw another in a rose bush at the shrine where she had one of his best friends and her sibling both killed, and now she has the last one and the crown locked up with the Ivory kingdom’s crown jewels?

When they don’t even belong to her?

Juyeon doesn’t realize his hand is shaking until the sword begins to slip out of his sweaty grasp. His fist clenches around the handle. “How do you know?”

“Somin told her mages that she was leaving the stone with the crown in a place only accessible by her. One of them relayed this to me.” Younghoon swallows. “The only place she could be speaking of is the room of crown jewels – she is the only one who has the key.”

The crown jewels. Juyeon curses internally. Of course Somin has the key – only one exists for each set of regalia, held by the queen of each kingdom.

Wait.

Juyeon’s heart hammers. There is one other key that can unlock a kingdom’s crown jewels, the key that Mage Han Younghyun used to steal his crown away.

And it’s hanging around Juyeon’s neck.

He resists the urge to look down at a gold king and queen glittering faintly in the lantern light. “Why do you trust this mage?”

“Not all of us are as loyal to the queen as we appear.” Disgust crawls into Younghoon’s eyes. “Some would prefer reporting to me rather than her. I trust him.” He sets his jaw. “Do you trust me?”

One beat passes. Two.

Juyeon sheathes his sword. “Lead us there. And we will keep Haknyeon with us as a hostage, in case you try anything.” He unpins Younghoon from the ground. “I want to trust you fully. But I have no reason to.”

“Understood.” Younghoon stands. “Come with me.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for younghoon bc juyeon is this || close to going feral)

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hajimewhore · 3 years

Text

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 3.2k words ➷Humor, slight angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, shenanigans ofc, i missed oikawa ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, ✈Part 7

Hajime nearly chokes, wiping the ‘potion’ dribbling down his jawline, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep the disgusting concoction from exiting his gut.

“...How was it?”

You try to pat his back sympathetically (he’s gagging now), but you’re the one that insisted he try the mystery remedy first, and you cautiously pull your hand away as he shoots you the most menacing glare he can while he’s coughing into his palm.

“It was made with weird mushrooms and fucking plants, how do you think it tastes?”

Terrible, you guess. And the effects were supposed to be instantaneous, according to a recipe dropped in one of the posts you found… not that you expected it to work.

“Ahh, and nothing happened.”

You rub your jaw semi-thoughtfully, before catching the look on Hajime’s face.

“Uh, Hajime?”

His expression is glaring, not unlike someone scheming for revenge. But that’s silly, Hajime wouldn’t blame you for the potion not working, right?

“It probably didn’t work because you didn’t try it with me.”

It seems he would, realization sets in as Hajime closes in on you, and you panic,

“I think it didn’t work because it was someone bullshitting!”

“Don’t you want to swap back? Just drink it!”

“You’re just mad, get away from me!”

You trip on your feet, stumbling into the kitchen table. It scrapes the tile as your hands clutch for purchase on anything that’ll help you get you away from the madman behind you, but the tablecloth you’ve grasped at isn’t much help seeing as you swipe it off the table entirely. You’d be impressed that all the plates and the flower-filled vase stayed perfectly set on the table from your impromptu magic trick, if it weren’t for Hajime assaulting you.

You cry out as if you’re being brutally attacked (you are, technically–just with plant juice), and Hajime takes you by the jaw and tilts a cup of the swirling cocktail to your lips, sloshing rather unappetizingly in the glass. If the thing had an aura, it’d have a thick gray cloud fuming from it.

“And why would I be mad?”

“Because I made you drink a potion I found on a weird thread even though it was totally suspicious and completely untrustworthy!”

You confess to your sins, the thread was actually some sort of troll that promised the reader would swap bodies with their favorite celebrity, and you cast it aside for the likelihood of that never happening, it was probably a scam to get some gullible teens to drink essentially dirt.

And you admit that initially you thought it would be funny to prank Hajime, jotting down the recipe and conveniently leaving out the celebrity bit, but in your excitement to scheme you forgot Hajime doesn’t take too well to pranks at his expense.

Not without retribution at least, and you find yourself grappling at his wrists, attempting to turn your head away from the glass.

He eyes you with a too eager grin,

“You should try it, really, it might work.”

It didn’t.

It was disgusting.

You have learned your lesson not to trifle with Hajime, and you're no closer to finding a solution to your problem.

You slump onto the kitchen table, feeling especially abused and violated by the plant paste you regretfully crafted.

“That’s number one on the list, what’s next?”

Hajime rests his elbow on the table, chin in palm as he scrolls on his phone.

“Bonk our heads together so hard we pass out and hopefully wake up in our own bodies?”

You suggest. Who knows, it could actually work.

“No thanks, I’d rather not wake up the same way but with a concussion.”

The second Hajime turns down your cartoonish suggestion, his phone lights up and buzzes, signifying a call.

You glance at his phone, “Tooru’s calling you?”

“Fuck. I’ll just ignore it,”

The moment he sets his phone aside, the kitchen door bursts open, presenting none other than Oikawa Tooru, entirely expected given the situation and the fact that Hajime’s parents are still at work.

“Tooru?!”

You blink in surprise, and Tooru frowns at the sight of the two of you together.

“I knew you were ignoring me!”

“What the fuck Shittykawa, who said you could come over?”

Hajime grimaces, forgetting to stay true to your personality in his surprise. Tooru’s brow ticks at the catty response to his entrance.

“I see you’ve been spending too much time with Iwa-chan, using his terrible nicknames! I didn’t think you’d ever use it on me either, but here we are!”

He folds his arms across his chest, and Hajime covers his mouth.

Shit, he let that one slip in his initial shock.

“Besides, this is Iwa-chan’s house, and I say I can come over! You two have been ignoring me all week and coming up with the shittiest excuses—”

“Oikawa—”

“No, let me finish!”

He huffs, looking more serious than you’ve seen him outside the court. Judging by his posture and the worry in his brows, you can tell he’s been stressing himself lately. You bite your cheek, knowing full well you and Hajime were the root of the cause.

“Both of you have to go to the dentist when the office is closed, really? Iwa-chan studying for a test that’s not for another week, please! Give me a break. Not to mention, every practice you play like shit Iwa-chan,”

It’s not shit, you’re just not Hajime’s usual, because you’re not fucking Hajime. You want to argue, defend yourself and Hajime, but you keep your lips sealed.

“You act like a total weirdo, you hardly talk to your own teammates and friends, and you–”

He turns to Hajime, technically you, scowl ever present.

“You always run off with him after school! And don’t even pretend like you’re not having lunch with him too, Kunimi-chan saw you eating alone together by the art building–ditching me, yeah?”

He’s fuming, and his hair is moving in every direction accompanying his wild, frantic gestures.

The guilt starts piling, and you’re starting to regret yours and Hajime’s way of handling the situation.

To avoid uncomfortable situations and messing up, you thought the best method was to steer clear from everyone entirely.

Clearly that’s backfiring, but it’s too late to erase those actions now.

“Not only have you two spent all week lying to me, you’ve been completely ignoring my calls and texts all weekend too!”

Tooru pauses, rant seemingly over, but neither you or Hajime feel inclined to speak yet, too caught off guard by the outburst, and unsure of what you can say to remedy the situation.

Tooru drops his arms at his sides, glancing away from the two of you, biting his lip. Your shoulders tense when you feel the atmosphere around him drop significantly.

“Are you guys mad at me?”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

You forgot he had feelings.

“Oikawa, it’s not that, I swear.”

You speak first, and Tooru looks to you with an expression that almost breaks your heart right there. Brown eyes glossy, lips in a thin line as if he’s trying to keep them from turning down into a frown, he looks genuinely displeased.

“Are you just sick of me? Are you tired of hanging out with me? I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but if it makes you guys that upset I can stop, I’ll be better.”

In any other context you may quip with a ‘you could stop this whole time?’, but the joke wouldn’t sit right, and Tooru looks entirely too on edge, fingers tapping at his sides restlessly.

Tooru’s always been the type to stay true to himself, unabashedly and unapologetically. He knows he’s flawed, has learned to accept his shortcomings as a person. But here he is before you and Hajime, willing to cast aside his pride for the sake of your friendship. It only serves to guilt you more, considering it’s based upon the lies you’ve built up.

“I promise we’re not sick of you, we just… had something come up that we had to deal with. It’s been really stressful, I’m sorry.”

You don’t particularly care if it’s too out of character, it’s what Tooru needs to hear.

Risking a glance at Hajime, you see he’s shaking his leg and biting his lip, a few of his nervous tics, he’s contemplating something heavily.

“And you can’t tell me? You always tell me when something is wrong.”

Tooru eyes you suspiciously, and it’s true, usually you can tell Tooru anything. But this isn’t something believable, and you and Hajime both decided it’s best kept a secret.

“We can’t, but it’s nothing you did. Don’t worry about it, we’ll start hanging out soon, like we used to, we just have to deal with this ourselves.”

And you hope you’ll be able to, it’d be nice to go back to normal. You did miss movie nights with Tooru and Hajime, and you miss having lunch together on the rooftop.

Tooru thinks for a moment, you see the gears turning in his head, eyes focused. He glances to Hajime, who hasn’t said a word the entire time, still tense on the other side of the table.

Tooru’s contemplative gaze flicks to you, as if he’s had some sort of revelation.

“Did you get her pregnant?”

WHA—THAT’S HIS REVELATION?

“You asshole, shut up!”

Hajime’s choice first words.

“What?! No, no, fuck no!”

You blush heavily at his wild accusation, and Tooru looks visibly relieved.

“Oh, thank god. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing, necessarily, and I always kind of expected it, but this is just too soon.”

He laughs airily, as if he doesn’t feel the weight of his words like you do, heavy on your heart. Does everyone have that assumption? That you and Hajime would one day be together like that?

“We’re not even dating, idiot.”

Ouch. Hajime’s adamant refusal jabs at you, and you try to ignore the ache that claws at your chest. That may have stung a bit, but you certainly won’t admit it out loud.

“Yeah, yeah. I just couldn’t think of any other reason you’d be ignoring me like that.”

“It’s ‘cause we swapped bodies.”

You whip your head to Hajime, physically ripped from your disappointment, too shocked he’d blab the truth to Tooru and expect a reasonable outcome from it.

“Hah. Hah.”

Tooru doesn’t even entertain the explanation, arms crossed and eyes disinterested, accompanying the dry laugh well.

“It’s true.”

You hope Hajime knows what he’s doing.

“Funny, and I didn’t think you’d be in on it Iwa-chan, looking so surprised like that.”

Tooru doesn’t even look skeptical, or remotely fazed, as if he doesn’t want to be tricked into falling for something so blatantly stupid.

And normally, he’d be right to, but in this case, you and Hajime were unfortunately not kidding.

“I just didn’t think Hajime would openly admit that without talking to me first.”

You shoot a glance at Hajime, as if to convey ‘I hope you know what you’re doing’, but he merely shrugs in response.

“And you’re a real prankster today too. What’s gotten into you guys? Seriously, are you mad at me?”

Tooru is starting to look a little peeved, visibly doubting your words of encouragement from earlier.

“We’re not mad. We switched places. We woke up last Sunday in each other’s bodies. That’s why we haven’t been ourselves, and that’s why we’ve been avoiding everyone.”

Hajime continues with his explanation, as if Tooru would be any closer to believing it.

Which he isn’t.

“That’s not even possible, but fine, I’ll play along. You’re Iwa-chan, supposedly. What’s something that only he would know?”

Tooru crosses his arms smugly, staring at your body, who is ‘supposedly’ Hajime, as if he’s got you two in checkmate.

This can’t be good for Tooru, but it’s definitely going to be good for you if you’re getting in on a secret.

“Alright. You swore me to secrecy for this one,” Hajime doesn’t hesitate for one second, “that time at the volleyball banquet last year you saw a girl with a ‘nice ass’ in a ‘super mega tight dress’ and wanted to hit on her, but when you tapped her shoulder, she turned around and it was actually Y/N–”

Now this is very interesting news to you.

“H-HEY, STOP TALKING–”

Hajime side steps Tooru’s attempt to cover his mouth,

“And you pre-gamed before the event so you drunkenly admitted to me that you’d still tap that but she’s practically your sister and that’s gross but her ass looked so–”

“I get it okay! How do I know you’re not just fucking with me and broke the secret pact we made?!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off and glares at you, but you’re giving him the widest, shit-eating grin.

“I knew that dress looked good.”

“Enough games already!”

“What about the time in elementary school where you and I went to a volleyball match and you had to–”

“ENOUGH, enough, I believe you, okay!”

Tooru relents, red-faced and practically sweating from his nervous panic.

“I wanna know about the time in elementary school where you and Hajime went to a volleyball match and something happened.”

You put your hand up, wanting to know the juicy details. You thought you and Tooru told each other everything, but apparently there’s some missing gaps in that ‘everything’, and you’re very eager to learn.

“We made a friendship promise and he swore me not to tell anyone but because of the circumstances, he had to—”

“I said I believed you already, stop trying to out me!”

Tooru cuts Hajime off at the best part, every time.

He taps his foot with a huff, bottom lip twitching into a frown. Hajime gives him a smug look, staring back combatively, as if Tooru will attempt to call out bullshit again (he won’t).

You’ll have to remember to ask Hajime about the middle school incident at a later date, but right now,

“I’m sorry we kept this from you, and sorry I kept ignoring your calls, Tooru. We didn’t know what to do.”

You interrupt their staring contest, wrapping your arms around Tooru in a tight hug. You’re the tallest you’ve ever been, and it’s weird to hug him when you aren’t yourself, but you missed your best friend.

“Uh…”

Tooru awkwardly pats your back,

“I was kind of lying before because I thought you guys were trying to shame and humiliate me, but this is really weird and I actually might believe you now.”

“Asshole, that’s all it took?! And stop hugging him like that, it's freaking me out!”

Hajime slaps Tooru on the back, yanking you by the back of your shirt to pull you from the hug.

He grumbles something indecipherable under his breath, contemplating whether he should even say anything,

“I’m sorry too. I guess.”

He gives Tooru an awkward, much gentler slap on the back, before slinging his arm around Tooru in some sort of half-hug gesture.

“I-Iwa-chan! It really is you in there!”

Oikawa’s fake tears spring to life as he bends down to wrap Hajime in a hug, who struggles like a cat wanting to be released.

“Get off me!”

Tooru pulls back, wiping a tear from his long lashes,

“I’m still really upset right now, I really thought you guys hated me! So if you could please shower me with adoration, that’d be lovely.”

Tooru spreads out his arms, a pathetic expression on his face that Hajime doesn’t buy for one second.

“Tooru! I love you! You’re the best Tooru, your jump serves are great! Your setting is unmatched! You’re my bestest friend!”

You cheer him on, Hajime is balking that you’d even entertain the idea of doing that in his body, let alone acting on it, but Tooru eats it up with gleaming eyes.

“Quit feeding his ego!”

It’s your turn to be scolded by Hajime, but you just stick your tongue out at him sheepishly.

“He deserves it?”

“He didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly! He didn’t do anything, and we were being bad friends.”

“I’m on your side,”

Tooru slings an arm around your shoulder and gazes down at Hajime, who’s more aggravated now than when he was drinking straight plant paste.

It hadn’t bothered him too much initially, but having to crane his neck up to glare at Tooru is sparking some caveman urge deep inside Hajime to absolutely throttle him.

“Out. Get out of my house.”

“Technically, this isn’t your house–OW, Iwa-chan, that still hurts!”

“Newsflash Asshole-kawa, girls can hit too!”

They can, and you let Hajime prove his point.

“So,”

“If it’s something about aliens, I don’t want to hear it.”

You interrupt Tooru before he can spew something definitely about aliens.

“I wasn’t going to bring up aliens–though it’s a very valid cause you definitely need to consider. I was actually going to ask if you have any idea how long you’re gonna be like this?”

You give Tooru a tired look, and Hajime just ignores him entirely, tired of glaring no doubt.

Tooru’s been lazing around, attempting to ‘help’ you and Hajime, but you doubt he’s accomplished anything aside from scrolling through the same threads you’ve looked through. You’re willing to bet he researched for a minute or two before losing interest, abandoning the task in favor of looking through Karasuno’s and Shiratorizawa’s match history.

“If we knew, we’d tell you.”

You respond, since it seems Hajime isn’t interested in replying.

“Ooh, that reminds me,” Tooru props his elbows up on the couch, pausing whatever volleyball match he was watching to drop his phone on his chest, “I saw this foreign family comedy once where the mom and her daughter swapped places, but they had to show each other selfless love and understand what the other goes through to swap back.”

Tooru gasps in additional realization before turning to Hajime, “Iwa-chan, are you her mom?”

The look Hajime gives Tooru is enough to put him in a grave and send secondhand chills down your spine.

“Sorry, sorry, don’t hit me again! Your hands are pointy and jabby now, it’s hard to get used to.”

Ignoring that,

“Hajime and I already understand each other, we have to put up with you all day.”

“True,” Tooru is completely unbothered by that comment, “I did see a romcom where the two main characters had to kiss at the end, they ended up swapping places like that.”

You don’t like that he casually suggests this with such an innocent look on his features.

“That sounds stupid, watch better movies.”

Hajime grunts out, and you’ll admit that kissing Hajime would be nice, but under normal circumstances preferably. You don’t particularly want to kiss yourself as Hajime.

“I appreciate all your knowledge in films that have body swaps in them Tooru, but this isn’t a romcom, or a movie.”

You sigh, and Tooru hums thoughtfully.

“Sure, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

He sits upright with ease, sliding off the couch and pocketing his phone,

“Anyways, I’ve got more practice to do. I’ll try not to be too hard on you tomorrow, now that I know you’ve swapped with that brute over there. Ciao!”

Tooru ducks out of the living room and out the Iwaizumi household before Hajime can assault him, and good thing, he probably would’ve had some bruises from your ‘jabby’ and ‘pointy’ hands.

With Tooru’s quick escape, you’re left contemplating whether that suggestion would actually work or not, risking glances to Hajime across the room.

A/N: not me ending a chapter on a juicy bit again afjknddm, anyways im posting this at an ungodly time but i hope everyone enjoys!

taglist: @cybergovl @babybellecheese @keijikunn @168-cm-png @sexy0android @cuddlesslut @bumbledunce

#haikyuu!!#hq!!#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime/reader #haikyuu reader insert #iwaizumi hajime fic #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader

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queenofimagines · 4 years

Text

Deny Deny Deny : 2

Request: “Hi! I loved "Deny, deny, deny" so much!! Smiling from start to finish. Any chance you'd do a part 2? :)” by anonymous

“Part 2 to deny deny deny 🥺🥺” by anonymous

“can we get a part two of deny deny deny of them confessing” by anonymous

And “Part 2 of deny deny deny? 👉🏻👈🏻” by @bitterbethany

Warnings: The f-word?

Notes: Part two babyyyyyy!!! I hope you enjoy.

It had been a week since JJ’s conversation with the Pogues, and since then, the thought of you had been incessant. At first he was scared of how devoted to you he seemed to be but soon he began to realize that there was no use in letting his feelings sit dormant in his heart. He had to come up with a plan, something he admittedly had never been good at, to tell you how he felt. His plan had to be perfect, he’d never settle for anything less when it came to you.

JJ had spent the majority of the week concocting his plan but so far had come up with absolutely nothing. He was beginning to grow frustrated, especially since you were usually the one he went to when he needed to sort out his own thoughts. All he needed right now was to talk things out and as much as he loved the Pogues, none of their advice could ever quite reach the quality that yours did. Somehow, despite the fact that in the past talking to you had been the easiest thing in the world, now it seemed like every time you were anywhere near him his throat would close up. It didn’t really help that seeing you impeded his ability to even think.

“You okay?” You asked, nudging him with your elbow. JJ had been unusually quiet since last week. Unsure as to why, you began to ask your friends, remembering that you had left long before they did and wondering if something had happened in your absence.

“I’m good! Yeah, I’m good...” JJ responded, obviously caught off guard by your question and hoping you hadn’t caught him staring at you like the rest of the Pogues did, barely covering up their amused giggles.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, totally.” JJ let out an awkward laugh as you eyed him, obviously not believing him, but deciding that it was best to leave it alone. After all, you were JJ’s best friend, he would talk to you when he was ready, he always did.

JJ was at a loss, he could never hide anything from you no matter how hard he had tried and even though he was planning on telling you how he felt sooner or later he also knew that if his feelings came out without him having been the one to tell you, his whole “not-exactly-a-plan” plan would backfire somehow.

If the rest of the Pogues were to be honest, JJ wasn’t handling his feelings very well, despite what JJ himself might claim. He constantly switched back and forth between wanting to hang out with you 24/7 to completely ignoring you. They couldn’t blame him, he was by far the least emotionally intelligent of them all, but the effect that his mixed signals had on you began to weigh on all of them. It didn’t help that they could see how much JJ’s actions were effecting you, especially when they knew they couldn’t tell you anything about why he was acting that way. They all hoped you wouldn’t try to figure it out, that for once your curiosity wouldn’t show its face, but the Pogues were never very lucky, were they?

You, Sarah, and Kiara were having a sleepover, one that had been almost months in the making. With all of you having free time that never seemed to match up, it seemed that this one weekend was your only chance to have some much needed girl time. You spent the day relaxing, letting yourself forget about your worries and just enjoy the company of your friends. When night came, you, Sarah, and Kiara were all squished onto Sarah’s bed, you leaning against the headboard with her legs stretched out and crossed while Sarah sat opposite of you in the same position. Kiara was laid out on her stomach diagonally across the bed facing you. The usually bout of “deep” conversations (which really mainly consisted of Sarah and Kiara talking about John B and Pope respectively while you dreamed you could do the same but with JJ instead) came around and the thought of JJ’s recent behavior was like a neon sign in your mind, demanding your attention and eating you from the inside out.

“Do you guys know what’s going on with JJ?” You asked suddenly. Sarah and Kiara shared a look, obviously knowing something you didn’t. You were about to push further when Kiara cleared her throat.

“W-What do you mean?” She asked.

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you haven't noticed how weird he’s been acting lately.”

“Weird? He hasn’t seemed weird.”

“Yes he has! He avoids me like the plague one week and then asks me to hang out nonstop the next, and I know you guys know something I don’t.” You deadpanned, beginning to grow agitated. Sarah and Kiara just shared another look before turning to you, Sarah opening her mouth as if to say something but quickly closed it when Kiara hit her knee.

“We don’t know what’s going on with him.” Kiara finally stated.

“Are you serious right now?” You asked, appalled at the audacity that two of your closest friends would lie to you so blatantly. Your gaze shifted between Sarah and Kiara waiting for them to say something, but they both remained silent.

“Whatever, I’m going home.” You finally said, fed up with the whole situation.

“Y/N wait-” Sarah started, but you were already out of her bedroom and in the hallway, making your way to the front door.

For the next few days you tried to play it cool, continuing to hang out with your friends as if nothing was bothering you but you needed answers. It had been almost two weeks since JJ’s bizarre behavior started and while at first you were all up for letting him come to you when he was ready, it was becoming more and more apparent that that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. You thought that maybe Pope or John B would shed some light on the situation, hoping that one of them would have the decency to put you out of your misery.

On one of the many days that the Pogues hung out with the exception of JJ who had yet again fell into his routine of avoiding you, you decided to help the boys set up the boat instead of gathering snacks and other supplies with the girls. Sarah and Kiara didn’t question it, thinking that you just didn’t want to be around them on account of what happened at your last sleepover. Pope and John B, however, were wary of your intentions.

“So...” Pope started. “Why did you volunteer to help us? I mean no offense but your complete shit when it comes to boats.”

“That is true,” you laughed, leaning against one of the posts sticking out from the dock. “I was actually hoping I could ask you guys something.”

“Shoot,” John B said.

“Do you guys know what’s going on with JJ?” At your question, John B tripped over a coiled rope on the floor of the boat and Pope dropped the cooler that he had been moving, both caught off guard.

“Uh... what do you mean?” John B asked, clearing his throat. Both boys quickly recovered, acting as if they hadn’t been put off by your question.

“I mean, he’s been acting weird, and don’t say you haven’t noticed or don’t know what I’m talking about because I damn well know he tells you guys everything.” You were a little hurt, honestly. You always thought you were the person JJ told everything to, but knowing Sarah and Kiara obviously knew something you didn’t felt like a punch in the gut. It didn’t help that you had been practically in love with JJ since the moment you met. You settled for a friendship, understanding that JJ wasn’t the relationship type and probably would never feel what you felt for him but you had already sacrificed a could be relationship with the boy of your dreams, you couldn’t bear to lose him as your friend all together.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pope said, ignoring your previous statement. You tried to catch one of their gazes, knowing that if you did it would be almost impossible for them to lie without you knowing, but both John B and Pope avoided your gaze at all costs, John B even going so far as to tie his bandana around his forehead so he’d have extra coverage, even if it wasn’t that much.

You groaned, knowing that you wouldn’t get anything from them and frustrated that all your friends were willing to lie to you. You understood that JJ might not have wanted you to know something and you kind of felt selfish for trying to push it, but understanding someone’s motives doesn’t mean you have to accept their behavior. You decided that your best bet would be to go straight to the source and ask him yourself.

It took you another two days before you could get ahold of JJ, successfully avoiding your friends within that time. You had called him multiple times, finally leaving him a message asking him to meet you and that it was urgent. He responded to you a few hours later, texting you to ask you when and where.

JJ knew you probably realized that he was avoiding you by now, the dozens of texts and missed calls were clear indicators of that, but when you finally left him a message, sounding completely exasperated and offering no explanation, only demanding that you meet, he knew something must have been wrong.

You waited for JJ at the docks where you told him to meet you, illuminated by nothing but the moon. You picked at your nails, a nervous habit you had formed at a young age that your mother had always tried so hard to get you to kick. When you heard his hurried footsteps you turned to face him, arms crossed in an attempt to seem much more confident than you actually were.

“Y/N, what’s up?” JJ asked.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“What? I-”

“Cut the bullshit JJ, I know you’ve been avoiding me, and I know our friends know why too. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? What’s going on?” JJ stayed silent, unsure what to say. For the last few hours JJ had thought of a million ways this conversation would go but this was certainly not one of them. He was sure you’d be upset but he never even considered that you might have thought him avoiding you was your fault. Looking back on it he realized just how stupid of him to not have thought of that, what other reason would someone avoid another person?

“JJ,” you continued at his silence. “You avoid me and then want to be around me and then avoid me again and I’m at my wits end trying to figure out what is wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” JJ quietly replied.

“Then why are you acting like this?!” You yelled. Again, JJ stayed silent. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, completely exhausted.

“You know, everyone lied to me for you. You more than anyone else know how much I hate being lied to but they did it for you. I don’t know what’s going on with you JJ and all I want is to help. And I’m hurt, quite frankly, that you don’t feel comfortable enough to talk to me anymore. I’m not blaming you, okay? I get that I probably did something but the problem is that I don’t know what I did and all I have been trying to do for the last week is fix it but none of you are giving me the chance to do that!” You took a deep breath, trying not to cry, but you could already feel your resolve breaking. “Call me whenever you’re ready to talk, JJ, but until then I don’t think I should be around any of you.”

You began to walk past JJ, feeling tears slowly slide down your cheeks as you rushed back to your car. JJ stood there, staring at the spot you stood, beating himself up over how much he had hurt you. He had to snap out of it, he told himself, before it was too late. He quickly turned around and made his way towards you. Upon seeing that you were already almost at your car he began sprinting, yelling your name along the way.

You tried to ignore him, hoping that you could just make it to your car and go home before he could get the chance to make you feel any worse, but soon he was standing in front of you, blocking you from getting to your car.

“What, JJ?” You asked, defeated. JJ took a deep breath, knowing that if he didn’t tell you how he felt now he never would.

“I like you, Y/N. No, scratch that, I love you. It took me so long to realize it but when I did I was scared, okay? And I’ve been trying to find the perfect way to tell you but I just couldn’t get my thoughts sorted out on my own. The Pogues were the ones who helped me realize my feelings for you which is why they’ve all been keeping quiet about it and I made them promise not to say anything to you but Y/N I-, fuck! I’ve made such a huge mess out of this, I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“Y-you’re in love? With me?”

“Yes.” JJ stared at you, expecting you to reject him. He waited for you to tell him that you hated him and never wanted to see him again, he was so sure he had messed up his chances. You could already see the doubt beginning to form in his mind and without thinking, you reached up and pulled his lips to yours, conveying everything you felt. JJ’s arms instantly wrapped around you, pulling you close and holding you there as if he was afraid you’d disappear. Your lips fit together perfectly as if made for each other by some heavenly being, at least, that’s what you thought because as far as you were concerned, kissing JJ felt like heaven. JJ was an incredible kisser, you had always been sure, but when he slowly slipped his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan, that’s when you knew he would be the best you’ll ever have. JJ moved to deepen the kiss but you pulled away, knowing that if you let it happen you’d get so wrapped up each other that you guys might actually end up fucking right there on the dock.

“Wow.” JJ said, panting as you leaned your forehead against his.

“Yeah, wow.”

“So does this mean you’ll go out with me?” JJ asked, as if he didn’t know the answer already.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll go out with you.” You laughed. You took JJ’s hand and led him to your car, silently offering him a rid home since you knew he probably walked here.

“You know I really did have a plan.” JJ said.

“JJ, please, you’ve never even attempted to make plan in your entire life.”

“No, really! I was going to dress up in a grass skirt and a coconut bra while dancing the hula. It would have been be real sexy.”

"Now I’m sad I missed that!” You said.

“It’s okay baby, I can still give you the full show.” JJ said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“JJ!” You laughed, gently smacking his shoulder. He pretended to be hurt before wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close and promising himself he would never let you go.

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank oneshot #jj outer banks #Outer Banks #outer banks oneshot #outer banks x reader #outer banks one shot #outer banks imagine #obx #obx imagine #obx x reader #obx one shot #obx oneshot #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow x reader

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ship-ambrosia · 3 years

Text

Chilumi Week Day 4 - The Heart of a Hero (Hearts)

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Should I have made a more romantic prompt? Maybe 😂😂

Summary: The more they fight, the more he falls. The more she reminds him of who Ajax once wanted to be.

He pulled back the string of his bow, unconsciously counting the seconds as he felt energy flowing from his body into the arrow between his fingers. Without wasting a beat, as soon as the Hydro energy at the arrowhead had burst he let his arrow fly toward his target - the golden-haired, golden-eyed girl charging toward him at a speed that would intimidate a lesser man. But Childe wasn’t one of the Fatui’s Eleven Harbingers for nothing, his stance didn’t falter one bit.

Lumine dodged, and he smirked. He knew she would.

As easy as he breathed, he’d tossed his bow into the air and watched it disappear into golden dust. More Hydro energy gathered in his palms, and he rose two watery blades in his hands to meet the arc of her sword coming down on him.

“Not bad, girlie,” he purred as he admired her, all of her, while their blades were locked. The fierceness in her eyes, the way she gritted her teeth, the sweat on her brow. There was a sense of pride in him upon seeing these things, seeing the way he made her work. Knowing that it was him, who turned her into the beautiful fighter that she was.

He realized too late what she was doing. Childe’s eyes widened when he noticed the gathering vortex in her offhanded palm. He broke the bladelock and attempted to move away from her out of range, when the Anemo blast unfurled from her hand. He was caught just at the edge of it, but caught nonetheless and was sent flying, landing on his back with his swords dematerializing in a splash of water around him. The way the wind was knocked from his lungs sent shivers through his body. She was still amazing, still constantly pushing him to his limits. He didn’t think he could ever get enough of her.

“I think,” she said, walking over to him and putting her hands on his hips. “That means I win again.”

“You’re starting to fight dirty, like me,” he breathed out, grinning up at her again. “Am I corrupting the princess?”

Rolling her eyes, Lumine leaned over and offered him a hand, which Childe took and pulled himself to his feet - only to then immediately twist it around and knock her over onto her back, as a hydroblade appeared in his hand once more. He pointed the blade at her.

“That’s a win for me, actually,” he informed her.

Lumine’s shocked expression twisted into annoyance. “You’re insufferable.”

He laughed, pulling her back to her feet and ruffling her hair a bit. “Whaddya say we start a fire and cook up something to eat? I could really go for some of your cooking after my victory.”

When he looked back at her though, Lumine was staring off in the distance, intently. “Shhh, Childe,” she quieted him. “Did you hear that?”

His playfulness melted away, senses on alert for danger. Childe immediately began making for higher ground for a vantage point. There was little out in the wilderness around Liyue that truly concerned him; but he would never let Lumine get hurt while he was around.

This time he heard it; a strange sound, something between a groan and a scream. It was definitely human to him, a sound he’d heard before - from his work in the Fatui, as much as Lumine probably would be disappointed to hear the details of such an event. Childe scanned the rocky cliffs of Liyue that surrounded them.

“Help!” The sound formed into words, confirming its origin as human. At least, he sure hoped anything that called for help was human.

After the second cry, Childe spotted the source; a camp on the crest of a hill not too far from their location. He could see several figures sitting around a fire. There was a boxy shape with them, some distance away. As he watched, one of the human shapes stood up and walked to it; the box was large enough to fit a human inside of it. His blood ran cold when he pieced it together. Something unfamiliar, yet familiar all at once, stirred within him.

“Childe! What do you see?” Lumine called up to him, but her companion was already gone, pushing aside his scarf and leaping from his overlook, allowing the device attached to his back to spread its wings.

He had been surprised when Lumine gifted him the wind glider. He knew they were sacred tools to Mondstadters, the children of the wind, who placed strict gliding rules on themselves and outsiders who happened to get their hands on them. She was their Honorary Knight, so of course she had been given a glider. He was a member of the Fatui, and Mondstadt certainly had no love for them - but he’d seen the delight on her face as she danced on the wind between the rock pillars of Jueyun Karst, and secretly he’d wished he could be up there with her, experiencing a whole new kind of adrenaline rush between the clouds. It was a tool he’d kept to himself, away from the prying eyes of the other Harbingers. Who knew when it might give him an advantage over them?

Now he didn’t feel the rush, or the wind carrying him. He was moving purely on instinct, a body that knew how to fight, knew how to kill. He landed against the side of the cliff, not wasting a breath of stamina as he swung himself effortlessly up and over the edge.

The Treasure Hoarders hardly got a moment to react. Childe looked to the box, to the cage, and saw exactly what he knew he would see there. He fired three quick shots, downing two of the members in one hit before manifesting his blades into his hands and leaping into the fray.

“Who the hell is this guy?!” He heard one of them cry between his swirling blades of water.

Childe ducked out of the way as a potion crackling with Cryo energy was thrown at him, throwing his elbow into the same man’s chin. Another struck out at him with a kick, which he sidestepped before delivering his own strike to the man’s gut, who went down swiftly. The third fool to fight back swung a hammer at Childe, but he’d trained enough with his own Vanguard - who used electrified hammers too, this was just a normal one - and thus he took the ordinary man down without breaking a sweat.

By the time Lumine caught up with him, Childe had already approached the cage with the key he’d gotten off one of the Treasure Hoarders, opening the door and freeing the elderly man inside.

“Childe!” She was huffing and puffing, like it had taken her a great amount of effort in order to catch him. He supposed he had just dashed off without so much as a warning. “Why did you leave me standing there, all by myself?”

And then her eyes widened, having noticed the man in the cage, and all frustration toward the young man she was traveling with disappeared.

It was sunset by the time they saw the gates of Liyue Harbor in the distance, having helped the old man back to the city. From what they could gather, he was a rich nobleman living in Yujing Terrace, who had been out searching for stashes of Noctilucous Jade. Lumine didn’t have the heart to tell the man he was in entirely the wrong place for it, to the west of Liyue when the jades were found to the west, toward Dragonspine Mountain, and she especially didn’t want to encourage the elder to make the trek out there on his own. Once they’d helped him past the Millelith standing guard, they parted ways. Both Childe and Lumine drifted near each other, around each other, like two celestial bodies that couldn’t pull away. They were silent though; up until the moment that their stomachs started growling.

“I can’t believe we forgot about lunch,” Lumine spoke first, sheepishly.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll treat you. How’s that sound? Dinner on me?”

With little reason to decline Childe’s offer, they both made their way to Wanmin Restaurant, together. As they waited for Xiangling to serve them her nightly special, Lumine couldn’t help herself anymore. “Childe?”

He looked up from practicing with his chopsticks - wrestling with them, was more accurate - and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I mean... not really...” she swallowed hard under his expectant gaze. “I was just surprised you bothered to save that old man.”

She could tell he was searching her face, trying to read her reaction. “Why?”

“Fighting the Treasure Hoarders I get, I know you do it a lot because it’s basically a free fight for you,” she explained. “But you didn’t jump in because they were Treasure Hoarders. There’s no way you could tell from that distance. So you jumped in to save him.”

“I’m not following. You seem to have a pretty good understanding of what happened.”

“You do things only if they are of some benefit to you,” she pointed out. “You saved me from the Millelith, and kept paying for everything for me because you wanted to gain my trust. You introduced me to Zhongli because you knew he’d end up telling me where the Exuvia was. I know you accompany me on expeditions just so you can get the chance to let loose and fight.”

“I didn’t know you thought so highly of me,” she didn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice. Childe was hurt by her words? Or maybe it was more lies. She enjoyed his company, but it was hard to tell when he was being entirely truthful.

“But you didn’t get anything out of saving that old man,” she pointed out. She watched as Childe’s eyes widened in response, as though he hadn’t realized it until now - there was no advantage. Just an old man safe at home now.

“You don’t know that,” he spoke shortly, trying and failing to hide how much she’d rattled him.

“Childe, why did you save him?”

“I don’t know,” his reply was soft, but not soft enough to conceal it. That was a bold-faced lie. He knew exactly why.

The words of his father danced around in his head, stories of heroes all across Teyvat, battling evil and saving people. Young Ajax would listen with starry eyes, his father always scolding him for being distracted from their fishing rods but continuing to do it anyway. There was nothing he had wanted to be but a hero then. Nothing he had wanted to be but a traveler.

He was jolted out of his memories when Lumine moved closer, placing her hand on his. “Yes you do,” she said defiantly, and he knew she had seen right through him. He smiled to himself.

“Maybe I’m just tricking you,” he purred, all honey returning to his voice. “Maybe I’m trying to gain your trust again so I can tear it all down.”

Lumine narrowed her eyes. “Then you’ve already succeeded, because you have my trust. I’d like to think you can rely on me, too.”

“Never tell someone from the Fatui they have your trust, girlie. They’ll use it for their own ends. They’ll use it to break you. They’ll use any means to get an advantage over you.”

“But you don’t. Not anymore,” she gently ran her fingers over his knuckles, and Childe was very irritated by the way she made electricity dance over his skin, the way she made his heart start to pound. “You don’t actually fight dirty. You always like to fight on equal ground. You’re just creative.”

He was supposed to be the one playing with her feelings. Instead he felt like Lumine had reached into his chest and was playing music with his heartstrings.

He sighed.

“My real name is Ajax,” he could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and he watched Lumine stiffen as she comprehended them. He saw her eyes flitter around his face, the way it does when she tries to detect his lies. Even though he knew her tell, he’s still never been able to successfully hide a full lie from her ever since they began to spend time together. When he doesn’t want her to find out something, he usually just redirects now. “Ajax is the name my parents gave me. Childe, and Tartaglia, those were gifts from the Tsaritsa. And to be honest I hardly feel like Ajax is part of me anymore.”

Lumine was silent.

“My father used to tell me stories of heroes, all the time. Not just heroes from Snezhnaya, but from all across the continent. I wanted to be just like them. I wanted to save people. I wanted people to tell stories about me. Now I’m Childe, and I’m kind of a bad guy,” he chuckled. “Ajax’s dreams are long gone.”

She gave him a serious look, eyes burning. He’s only seen her with that intensity once before, when they fought in the Golden House. “No they aren’t. If they were, you wouldn’t have saved that old man today.”

He felt her hands cup his face, and he froze between them, unsure if Lumine was about to make a big mistake. His eyes flickered down to her lips, and he thought about all the times he’d imagined making it too.

But she stayed right where she was, staring into his eyes. “I’d like to see them one day. Ajax’s dreams. I’d like to travel with him. And I’d like to try and make them come true. You have the instincts of a hero. You could still be one.”

No, he thought. Not anymore. But somewhere deep inside his mind told him that was a lie, too. Staring into her eyes, he thought that he kind of believed her words. With her around, Ajax could become a hero.

She was changing something in him. Each moment he spent with her left him with dreams of running free, untethered, as an adventurer, a traveler himself, back to the wide open skies and heroic deeds that used to decorate his dreams. Of course he was drawn to her - she reminded him of who he used to want to be. Before the day in the Abyss, before it all had come crashing down. But she was changing him, slowly bringing Ajax back out of him. He’d never be entirely the same again, but it still scared him to think how much of an effect on him she had.

“I told you, girlie,” that familiar smile crept onto his face. “I want you to see me conquer the world. That’s not something a hero wants.”

Maybe one day, Ajax spoke very softly, in the corner of his mind, in response. I’ll be enough to be considered her hero.

#bree writes #genshin impact fanfiction #chilumi week 2021 #day 4 #hearts #genshin impact spoilers #childe spoilers #idk i think using his real name is technically a spoiler for some people??? lol #bree ships things #childe x lumine #chilumi #original post by bree

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absynthe--minded · 3 years

Text

more Blessed Hands is coming I promise, it’s just been a hellish end of year

as a thank you for sticking with me, enjoy a sneak preview (cw: foreplay)

“How do I look?”

“A bit like one of the early sages at Cuiviénen,” Findekáno said. “But I think you’ll be able to manage without seeming too scandalous.”

“It’s a pity I don’t have a right hand,” Russandol mused, lifting his arm and striking a dramatic pose. “I could pass for one of the statues in the Vanwamari at home.”

“Aiya Maitimo, the great philosopher!” Findekáno jested, his smile wide enough to nearly split his face open. “Come on, then. We’d best find your chair.”

“Must I take it?” his husband asked.

He frowned. “Do you need it?”

“Perhaps, but I’d rather try for it on my own.”

“What if you grow fatigued?”

“I doubt I will. We certainly slept for long enough.”

“But - Russandol, you’re already unsteady now.”

“And you cannot save me a second time, from the unspeakable terror of falling upon my much-lauded face?” The smile on his lips faded quickly; for a moment he looked impossibly exhausted. “I - I’d like to walk with you, Finno. I know it might be unwise, but I cannot help it. I want my hand in yours.”

“Well, if we walk side by side, I doubt it will be my hand you’re holding to,” Findekáno answered, taking a place beside the taller nér. “Here. Drape your arm over me. I’m tall enough to be your crutch.”

“And a finer crutch couldn’t be asked for, or found anywhere on either side of the Sea,” Russandol said, smiling. “Come on, then. Let’s see what we can manage.”

After a few minutes of fumbling, they were side by side and intertwined. Russandol’s left arm was across Findekáno’s shoulders, with the shorter nér bracing his head against it, and his fingers were tight in the blue tunic his husband had chosen to wear that morning.

“All right,” Findekáno said, looking up at Russandol as best he could. “We’ve done the hard bit - ”

“Getting me out of bed was the hard bit?” his husband interrupted.

“ - yes, Russo, it was.”

“What do you call the long walk to the laundry, then?” he asked, and then groaned in exaggerated, mock pain when Findekáno elbowed him playfully. “Ah! And now the truth comes out! My long-suffering husband has at last revealed his true nature, the dastardly villain!”

“Shut up,” Findekáno said, but he was laughing. “You’re awful, did you know that?”

“Only as awful as I’m allowed to be,” Russandol retorted. He was smirking, eyes sparking, and didn’t stop even when he dipped his head down to steal a kiss. His husband tried unsuccessfully to dodge him, caught between arm and chest, only relenting at the last possible second.

“You have to stop,” Findekáno said, almost gasping; his face was burning when they broke apart.

“Oh, do I?” Russandol asked, raising an eyebrow that was bisected by a scar. His expression was seemingly unchanged, but there was a sharp edge to it that turned Findekáno’s gut to soup and set his heart fluttering in his ribs. “What if I like making you blush?” He leaned down a second time, and his eyes were turned to molten silver, and the scars that traced their way across his face lent it a gravity and an intensity that threatened to leave the other nér weak and boneless on the wooden floor.

“We - we only just got up,” Findekáno managed to murmur finally, voice breathy and only half-convinced of what it said.

“And who’s to say we can’t get up again?” Russandol answered. His fingers gripped his husband’s arm like a vise, and the smirk returned to his thin lips. “Though, I’d have to stuff your mouth with a handkerchief - as I recall, Turukáno is on this wing, and you’re quite loud when you’re enjoying yourself.”

Findekáno acted without thinking, shoving the other nér hard upon mention of his brother. Maitimo staggered back, right arm casting about in the air, drawing his husband after him.

“Let go!” Findekáno cried, laughter edging into his voice. He was awkwardly tripping after Russandol, half-pressed against bare skin and well-draped bedsheet, and his brown eyes were dancing.

“Oh, no,” Russandol shot back, laughing openly as he staggered across the floor. “You caused this, you’re coming with me!”

“And if you fall, what then?”

“I shan’t fall, that’s what then!”

They were both laughing now, torn between mock combat and embrace after embrace, kissing and nearly kissing and making no progress towards either the bed or the door. Some nameless weight had finally broken apart, freeing them at last, and Findekáno was giddy with relief and dizzy joy.

“Kiss me,” he demanded between fits of giggles, reaching up with his free arm and forcing Russandol down to his mouth yet again. “Now.”

“As the Crown Prince commands,” Russandol answered, meeting his gaze.

There was a dangerous rumble to his voice that went right to Findekáno’s hips, and he was hard and fully erect when he pressed himself to his husband’s thigh and rode against the scant muscle and too-obvious bone.

“I’ve gained quite a lot of my strength back,” the taller nér continued, lips trailing over brown skin and teasing at kissing. “I ought to test it.”

“Oh?” Findekáno asked, his hröa flush against Russandol’s. Every inch of him was ablaze with need, and every almost-brush of his husband’s lips against his skin made him want to take matters into his own hands and slide his tongue into that damnably evasive mouth. “Test it how?”

“Like this,” Russandol breathed, and kissed him at last, forcing him backward and up. One arm went about his chest, and the other dipped down beneath the curve of his spine; he was pulled upward and off his feet all at once.

He groaned, remembering countless stolen hours in Valannor, and put his legs around Russandol’s waist so that his aching cock was riding against his husband’s bare stomach. His hips shifted, seeking friction, and his tongue was busily working its way into a mouth that practically begged for him. His eyes were shut, lost in the bright glory of their bond.

Russandol, for his part, was staggering back - his legs had failed to anticipate the weight of another elda, and were protesting this shock vehemently. He slammed into solid wood, reaching it at last, resting against it so he could hold Findekáno aloft and keep kissing him. Even this was not quite enough, and his elbows sought something more to brace against. But when his arm at last landed upon something hard and iron-cold, it gave way, and suddenly the wall itself was shifting away from him, and he was falling into empty air.

Findekáno cried out when Russandol fell backward, torn between shock and laughter as they landed hard enough to force the breath from his lungs.

“Oh, no,” he said, looking up to see the open door and the quiet hallway. We must have been braced against it, and Russandol’s arm caught the latch! He was too amused to be upset and too busy laughing to catch his breath.

“Are you all right?” he asked, still giggling. “Were you hurt?”

“No,” Russandol answered, “but I want to issue a formal complaint to whoever decided a door-latch ought to be at a level with my elbow.”

“I hope you don’t bruise,” Findekáno said, glancing up in front of them. “That would be hard to explain - !”

Aicatillë was seated on his stool, his sword across his knees, looking at the both of them with a bemused expression.

“Hello, haryon-nînya,” he said, nodding to each of the néri before him in turn. “Condo-nînya.”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Findekáno said quickly, blushing furiously and wondering exactly what it was that he meant by making such a statement.

“I’m sure you’re right,” his guard replied; his narrow brown eyes were alight with mirth. “Is there anything I can do for either of you? A hand up, perhaps, or some clothes?”

Oh, I want to sink into the floor! Findekáno thought, nearly bursting into laughter when Russandol answered him with You’d have to go through me, and wouldn’t that be a pleasurable experience?

You’re awful, he said, still blushing, but he couldn’t keep a smile from creeping back onto his face as he untangled himself from his husband’s borrowed bedsheet. It’s a good thing I love you.

Indeed it is, the other nér told him, watching him get up with a dreamy expression. I think I’d be quite lost without you.

#RUSSINGON #blessed hands #absynthe’s fanfiction

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

THE FIRST TASK

Lily couldn't help it, her anger at Ron really was starting to bleed out by now to just be replaced with sorrow for both him and Harry. Both boys needed to talk to each other: she was sure they would work this out if they did, but while both blamed the other it didn't seem to be happening soon. What would it take to get it through Ron's head this wasn't Harry's fault? Ron was clearly growing tired of the argument though, so if Harry finally snapped and tracked him down, could they hopefully settle their differences soon?

She was the only one hoping along those lines. James was still trying his hardest not to think about it at all, while Remus and Sirius still wanted to smack the redhead a good one. Remus began his chapter with anger still bleeding into his tones.

Harry awoke Sunday so distracted, that he started trying to get dressed by putting his foot into his hat.

Sirius tried for a laugh at the mental image even if he didn't really feel it.

When he'd finally got all his clothes on the right parts of his body,

"Sure you didn't want to try pulling a sweater over your drawers next?" James muttered.

he went in search of Hermione, waited impatiently for her to finish her breakfast, and then dragged her back out to the lake so the two could talk some more. He told her everything Sirius had said, and though she was alarmed about the news of Karkaroff, she deemed the dragons more important for now.

"Wish you had realized that," Remus sighed at Sirius. "I'm still blasted you found anything more important to discuss than that, even a Death Eater."

Sirius just shrugged, really not having a defense for himself. He certainly agreed Harry should be on his guard around anyone from Durmstrang now, but those dragons really were a bit more pressing at the time.

She agreed they needed to focus on keeping him alive until after Tuesday,

"Oh thank you, Hermione, that was very encouraging," Lily huffed.

Remus fidgeted with the page for a moment, hoping desperately something else would happen to Harry in between now and when that First Task would come up so that he wouldn't have to read it, but then he realized it would in fact be Lily's turn to read about her son against a dragon, so he instead changed his wish to just getting this over with.

then they could worry about Karkaroff. They walked for a long time around the water, but when no ideas came to them of how to get past a dragon, they set off for the library.

"That could work at least," James nodded along. "You should find a passage talking about a dragon's weak spot, and come to the conclusion on your own of what to do."

"I still don't see how that would help," Harry sighed. "So I get it in the eye, then what? Now I've got an angry dragon because I managed to hit it, on top of whatever else I'm supposed to be doing."

"Still better than not knowing anything," Remus offered with a forced smile. Harry didn't argue the point.

At first all they could find were spells to help maintain a dragon's health for those like Hagrid who cared about that thing.

"Not top priority right now," Lily agreed.

The next set of books were about how powerful one would have to be to get any sort of magic past a dragon's thick hide, but Harry countered that Sirius had told about a simple spell doing the trick.

"I'm worried that they're taking that too literally," Sirius frowned. "They need to stick with the dragon books to see what I meant."

"There's nothing easy when it comes to dragons, really," Lily agreed.

Harry suggested they go through some simple spell books instead, tossing aside one named Men Who Love Dragons Too Much.

"Also known as Hagrid and Charlie, the nutters around them right now," James muttered.

They instead starting flipping through a new set with Hermione whispering at Harry's elbow the whole time about various things, such as how it would be ridiculous to try and Transfigure it, not even McGonagall was that powerful, unless he tried to do the spell on himself.

"Now there's an interesting idea," James said with honest amusement.

"Harry's not at that skill level yet," Lily corrected.

Those were really advanced though, and the only reason Hermione knew of a few was because of some pre O. W. L. papers she was doing.

"Of course the bloody fourth year has been," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"She's got to stay on top somehow," Remus shrugged.

Harry snapped at her to please stop, he was trying to concentrate.

'And she was just trying to help,' Lily wanted to sigh, but didn't correct him as she could only guess at how stressed her son was right now.

All her silence brought, though, was a loud buzzing in Harry's ears that left just as little room for concentration as he continued flipping through spells like scalping and pepper breath. That last one would be terrible, and would probably just increase a dragon's firepower.

"Can't deny it would be interesting to see, though," Remus muttered to himself, knowing he was the only one to think that.

You could give it a horned tongue, though that would really just be an extra weapon.

"Well, this clearly isn't helping," Lily groaned.

"Better than sitting around the common room freaking himself out," James sighed.

Hermione spoke up again in exasperation about Viktor Krum showing up again, muttering why he couldn't just study on his ship.

Harry felt a funny little feeling tingling in his gut, like he wanted to laugh at a vexed Hermione around Krum, but the feeling was so buried with the gut wrenching fear of facing a dragon soon he never even really registered it.

Hermione suggested they just take the books and leave; his fanclub would be around soon. Sure enough, not moments after they were leaving, they could see several students trying to tiptoe inside, one wearing a Bulgaria scarf.

Harry didn't sleep that night, and when Monday awoke him, for the first time Harry truly considered running away from Hogwarts.

"Ooh, my poor baby," Lily finally couldn't stop herself, she'd been trying to restrain how sorry she felt for Harry for ages so as not to smother him or embarrass him or anything, but she just couldn't hold it back anymore with how genuinely bad this was for him.

Harry gave his mother a warm, reassuring smile which seemed to at least somewhat put her at ease, but it didn't really erase a pang in his head telling Harry that for some reason he should remember something about leaving Hogwarts? He never really ran away did he?

One look around the Great Hall, and Harry knew he couldn't go through with it. This was the first place he'd ever really been happy. He supposed he must have been when he'd lived with his parents, but he couldn't remember that.

"Least I have them now," Harry quickly inserted before he had to watch depression mix in with the already wound up nerves of his family. They gave him a grateful smile for the effort, even if it was still hard to shake that sentence off.

The thought that staying here and facing a dragon was still a better option than going back to Privet Drive did give him some comfort.

"Oh thank you," Lily still couldn't help but ground out. "It just warms my heart to know a dragon is still better than that!"

Harry wasn't sure if that was sarcasm or pure anger at the reminder, most likely both.

As Harry began to leave breakfast, he noticed Cedric departing as well. Harry realized that Cedric was the only champion who didn't know, if he was right in guessing Maxime and Karkaroff would tell their own.

"You most definitely are," Sirius scoffed.

Remus, though, was watching Harry with a calculating look, wondering why Harry was thinking about this again when he noticed Cedric walking off... Was he really going to?

Harry told Hermione he'd met her in their Herbology class as he watched Cedric leaving.

"Oh you're not," James asked with a genuine smile.

"I think he is," Lily corrected with a fond look at her boy.

"Only seems fair," Sirius smirked in agreement.

Hermione tried to protest he was going to be late, but Harry promised he'd catch up to her.

"Considering Sprout's unusual ire with you, you're risking a lot for this," Remus reminded.

"He's helping out a Hufflepuff though," Sirius waved off, "so I'm sure she'll forgive him.

When Harry caught up he found Cedric surrounded by a group of Hufflepuffs who had been one of the most common groups to be quoting Skeeter's article at Harry.

"Bloody, bleeding, a-holes picking on a younger kid," James huffed. Quidditch was one thing, if this had just been going on right before a tournament or something, he knew he'd laugh it off, but this wasn't a Bludger problem, this was a life and death tournament!

Harry trailed at a distance until he noticed they were headed for a Charms class, which gave Harry an idea. He pulled out his wand, aimed carefully, and used the Diffindo spell on Cedric's bag.

"Well, that was rude," Lily got out around her own giggling; she couldn't deny it was effective.

"Ah, he can just repair it later," Remus waved her off. "You can't deny him points for thinking up that."

"Helps that he knows how much of a distraction it is," James agreed with a wild smile as he remembered back to Harry's lovely singing valentine because of this moment.

Everything fell out of the bag, including a bottle of ink that smashed and sprayed all the books with the black liquid. Cedric quickly waved his friends on when they stopped to help, Cedric telling them to let Flitwick know why he'd be late.

"And the usual response," Sirius agreed, as this was a fairly common occurrence and no one really wanted to help pick up slimy, inky anything. It stained your hands for a time no matter what.

Harry only waited long enough until they went out of sight before running forward, and telling Cedric that the first task was dragons.

"Subtle as a brick to the face," James got out around a fantastic snort.

"I don't know if there is a way to ease into that," Remus snickered, "so Harry's way was probably best."

Harry watched the gray of Cedric's eyes take on some of the panic building inside Harry.

"Least he doesn't think you're pulling his leg," Sirius shrugged, as that would probably cross his own mind. From an outsider, with all the flack Harry was getting, he wouldn't have put it past Cedric to think Harry was doing this as some sort of set up.

Cedric tried to ask how Harry knew, but Harry brushed that off, not wanting to get Hagrid into trouble.

"Honestly though, what is to stop them wandering the grounds and finding out?" James rolled his eyes. The three of them couldn't have been the only students in their youth to be out wandering the grounds so much, and the dragon pens weren't exactly in the heart of the forest.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they set up security not long after Harry left," Lily pointed out. "Warn away any students trying to get close, official Tournament business and all that. If Hagrid hadn't snuck Harry in there right when he had, it probably would have been a lot harder to be done."

"Fair enough," James agreed.

Harry quickly explained that Fleur and Krum knew as well, so now all was fair. Cedric straightened up with all of his stuff, now eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"That's what I was looking for," Sirius nodded. "He's got to be a bit suspicious of you."

"Thanks," Harry drawled. Everyone here knew Harry was doing it out of a kindness, but even he'd admit he would have been suspicious of someone doing this for him as well.

Cedric still asked why he was being told, and Harry gaped at him in shock. He wouldn't have let his worst enemy go into this blind, well perhaps he would of Snape or Malfoy.

"Agreed," James yelped instantly, finally something fun to think about! "There's a ton of room for potential mayhem-"

"James," Lily cut him off fondly, "would you please plan your plots later?"

James couldn't help a smile when he realized his wife had said later instead of knock it off, at least it meant she wasn't really opposed to the idea.

Harry repeated it was fair this way, now everyone was on the same ground.

Before Cedric could respond, they both heard the distinctive clunk noise of Moody approaching, and the man rounded the corner moments later and called Harry to follow him.

"Why?" James yelped in surprise.

"Think Moody heard him and is going to tell off Harry?" Lily pouted. "It's not like he can do anything though, the damage has been done."

Cedric was told to go off to his class, so Harry followed Moody with unease. Was Moody going to ask how Harry knew about the dragons?

"This could turn bad," Sirius agreed.

Would Moody tell Dumbledore and get Hagrid into trouble, or just turn Harry into a ferret to teach him a lesson?

"Is that your go-to fear of him now?" Remus asked between laughter. "I think he's got other animals up his sleeve."

Harry just shrugged, that bouncing ferret had really been a lasting memory.

Well, it would be easier to get past a dragon if he were a ferret.

"Can't argue with you there," Sirius agreed with a repressed shiver.

Harry went into Moody's office and took a seat, unnerved as always when Moody's magical eye focused in on him, but then Moody told Harry that he'd done a very decent thing.

"Well, he's not at the start of telling you off," Lily murmured hopefully, though if that wasn't what he was doing, why had he dragged Harry there?

Harry wasn't sure how to react to that, but at least he wasn't being told off yet. Instead Harry started to look around the office.

In Lockhart's day, the place was plastered with pictures of the man himself.

"Thank you for the remembered nightmare," Sirius snorted. He'd still never heard of anyone so vain.

"Thank you for the remembered payback," James corrected with a wicked grin. At least he'd got his comeuppance in the end.

Lupin had been more likely to have a Dark creature in a corner ready for his next class.

"Because Moony's the only nutjob who loves them so much he keeps them on hand," James snickered, which Remus gracefully ignored by flushing slightly and reading a bit louder.

Lily was just glad that Harry had never had the reason to visit Quirrell in his office; she didn't want to know what he would have found.

Now, it was full of odd objects, such as a cracked Sneakoscope,

"Why's it cracked though?" James asked in surprise, Moody was a well-known maniac for keeping his gear in top priority.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Sirius shrugged, though just as confused.

a golden aerial that was humming,

"That's a Secrecy Sensor," James smiled in surprise, "though I wonder why it would be going off now. No one in there should be hiding anything."

"How long is the range?" Sirius asked. "Could be picking up students up to no good, couldn't it?"

James nodded in fair point.

and a mirror on the back wall that wasn't reflecting the room, but shadowed figures Harry couldn't make out.

"Ooh, that's a Foe-Glass," Remus smiled. "Those are really rare; I wonder where he got it." He didn't wait for Harry to ask this time before adding on, "it shows the outline of your enemies, and when they come into focus it means you'd better start running. Great head start if you learn to use it properly."

Harry nodded in understanding of what Remus had said, but not why he was getting a prickling feeling. All of this made perfect sense, so why did he still have a growing suspicion about Moody any time he was mentioned?

Moody noticed Harry's staring and asked if he was interested in his Dark Detectors.

"I would if any of them were active," Remus scoffed. Moody was supposedly there this year to keep an eye on anything suspicious going on, yet he had all the instruments to help him do so off. What was the point of that?

Harry asked what they were, and Moody explained each of them, but added on he kept them off because the kids at this school made them activate too easily, though he added on gruffly it could be more than just kids.

"There's my cheerful thought," Lily huffed, that's all she'd been thinking about since this mess had started.

Harry then asked about the mirror, and Moody explained its use and how it shouldn't be a concern until you could see the whites of the eyes. Then Moody would have to go for his trunk. Harry spotted it in the corner, with its seven keyholes. Harry wanted to ask what was in there, but got distracted by Moody's question,

Harry rubbed furiously at his temple for a moment, feeling like he should go back and kick his fourteen-year-old self for not investigating that further, because it was going to bite him in the arse. Thankfully no one pressured him to talk about it though: they all knew the results they'd get.

of Harry finding out about the dragons.

Harry hesitated to say anything, still not wanting to get Hagrid into trouble. Moody just barked a laugh, though, saying he wasn't upset, cheating was as traditional as the Tournament itself.

"Won't find that in any books," Lily chuckled, "but I can't imagine him being wrong."

"I really don't even see what Harry did as cheating," Remus agreed. "Is there actually a rule saying you can't help your fellow players? Crouch just said you couldn't have outside help like from the teachers."

"If you ever bother to find out, let us know," James snorted.

Harry quickly corrected he hadn't been cheating, it had been an accident he'd found out.

Moody waved him off, saying it wasn't a big deal. Maxime and Karkaroff would be worse in helping their champion, as much as they wanted to beat Dumbledore. They wanted to prove he was human.

"Something I'm going to more than enjoy showing," Sirius hissed bitterly. Even when he did rip that rat's head from his body, he wasn't likely to forget the great leader of the Order who hadn't lifted a finger to help him when it happened.

Then Moody asked if Harry had any ideas of how he was going to get past his dragon. Harry told him no, and Moody said back he wasn't going to help him with that.

"I wouldn't expect him to," James raised a sharp brow in surprise.

"Though if he's not there to tell you off, what was the point of him doing this?" Lily asked.

Nobody actually had an idea. Why was Moody taking an interest in Harry like this? Was it possibly Dumbledore again, who'd asked his old friend to keep a special eye on the boy? They wouldn't put it past him.

He would, however, give Harry some advice, to play to his strengths.

Harry at once said he didn't have any.

Harry flushed in shock when he received four startled faces. He still felt that way, was going to repeat himself and try to just move on, but then Sirius snorted and shook his head as he declared, "the funniest part is, you actually mean that."

"Harry, everyone's got things they're good and bad at," Lily scolded maternally. "You've clearly excelled in some classes but lack in others, just like every other student."

"DADA," Remus quickly said when Harry looked like he was still going to disagree. "I can only name one third year I've ever known to make a Patronus. I'd call that a strength." He decided to leave off the mention of the Imperius curse. Though just as impressive, that one wasn't as good to think about.

"Plus you're a ruddy good Seeker," James quickly put in as clearly Harry wasn't going to agree on the academia side, "best I've ever seen."

By this point Harry was so red and desperate to change the subject, it didn't even click in his brain what his dad had really said as he told Remus, "alright, please keep going or I'll take that and do it myself."

They were all chuckling with good nature. This was certainly much more pleasant to be talking about than dragons, so none of them really wanted to go back to the book, but Remus decided to save Harry anyways, as he did know how it felt to have things you didn't believe thrown at you like that.

Moody snapped that Harry most certainly did have strengths, then told him to think. What was he best at?

Harry's first response was to say Quidditch, but it wouldn't do any good.

James' smirk widened all the more. He knew he'd hit Harry's best point, and when Harry gave him a warm smile to show that the praise his dad had given for agreeing meant the world to him.

Moody agreed he'd heard all about what a good flier Harry was, but Harry pointed out he wasn't allowed to bring his broom down, just his wand. Moody kept going with one more piece of advice: simple spells worked best to get him what he needed.

Harry blinked for a few moments as he tried to put it together.

"Oh!" Sirius did a double take in shock.

"Well that's, something," James got out around a crackling throat that was trying to laugh.

"You're going to somehow get your broom to you, to fly past the dragon," Remus said slowly, before nodding with bright eyes and saying, "well, major credit, it's certainly better than running!"

It didn't take Harry but a few moments at watching them before it all clicked together in his mind, and he started laughing in relief.

Lily was smiling with pure indulgent happiness at her boy. Of all the times she'd complained about his Quidditch status, at last it finally seemed to have done some good for him. She hadn't seen Harry relax so much since before this Tournament had been announced.

Then Harry realized what he'd have to do was get his Firebolt down to him, and for that he needed Hermione.

"Wait, where did Hermione come into this?" Sirius asked in surprise.

"Harry needs a spell to get his broom to him," James shrugged, "who would you ask?"

"Good point," Sirius acknowledged.

He caught up with her in Herbology, whispering desperately to her he needed to learn the Summoning Charm by tomorrow.

"Oh, but of course you pick the spell you've been having trouble with all year," Lily snorted.

"How else could I get it to me?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Well, you certainly picked the easiest way," Lily corrected herself. "The Summoning Charm is so flexible with its wording and doesn't have a range, that would be a recommendation, but with the fact that you haven't mastered it after trying for months at school, I would have suggested an alternative."

"Any others I can think of, though, are at an even harder level," James countered back for Harry, "and there's a difference between slacking off on your homework, and 'I need this bleeding spell for a really important reason.' I think Harry'll figure it out."

"Trust him on this one," Sirius smirked when Lily didn't really look convinced, "you'd be amazed what sudden motivation will help your wand to accomplish."

Lily suddenly realized the two big headed idiots were referring to themselves being able to pull off an animagus transformation at such young ages, and they did have a point. Besides, there was no point pestering Harry about it; he already did whatever it was that got him through, so she let it go.

They began practicing at once, finding an empty classroom so that Harry could try to get the objects to come towards him magically, but with minimal good. Most dropped like stones halfway there.

Hermione kept telling Harry he had to concentrate harder,

"Is that all the advice she's giving?" Remus rolled his eyes. "Telling him the same thing over and over won't ever cause an improvement."

"Thank you, professor," Sirius snorted.

James couldn't help a little frown though, as he really did wish that Moony had still been around to help Harry with this. It would have made him feel better as he knew that Remus could get Harry through some pretty difficult spells already.

Harry snapped at her that he was trying, but for some reason a dragon kept popping into his head!

"Yeah, that's cause for distraction," Sirius shivered, wishing he could go back to picking on his friend now, as that was already popping up in his head every other sentence this chapter.

Harry wanted to skip Divination to keep practicing, but Hermione refused to miss her Arithmancy class, and Harry felt there was no point in trying without her around.

"Why?" Lily asked in surprise. "If all the advice she's giving you is to tell you to concentrate, I'd think not having her around for a space would do you some good."

"I didn't really like being alone," Harry muttered. "I tended to freak myself out more when she wasn't at my elbow muttering things."

So he went up to the tower and was forced to listen for a time about how the planet's current alignments meant that people born in July were going to be suffering sudden deaths.

"It's not very sudden if he's been expecting it for months," Remus snapped in a real temper; he was sick of that woman's stupid predictions.

"Can someone shove a planetarium up her nose already?" Sirius grumbled. "Might distract her long enough Harry can drop this class."

Harry shouted back at her that at least it was sudden, he didn't have to suffer!

Which gave them all a nice, surprised burst of laughter that they had been sorely missing for ages now. Anybody smarting off to Trelawney was always a good source of mood, even if the topic was usually depressing.

Ron looked for a moment as though he was going to laugh,

"Genuinely impressed he restrained himself," Sirius said, his good mood still lingering enough he didn't sound as sore as usual.

he caught Harry's eye for the first time in days at least, but Harry was still too resentful to care.

Lily and James exchanged exasperated stares, both now on the same page that they'd lock those two boys in a room themselves if it would get them to talk to each other and get this over with. It had worked for Remus and Sirius, and that fight had been worse than this one.

Harry spent the class trying to get things to zoom to him under the table, but most failed except for a fly. Harry didn't think this had anything to do with him, though: perhaps the fly was just stupid.

Causing another smattering of giggling to erupt in the room, all of them now quite glad indeed Harry had come to this class. It was great at relieving most of the tension at least.

After dinner Harry and Hermione snuck back down to an empty classroom under the Invisibility Cloak to practice some more, but Harry still didn't get very far when Peeves showed up and thought that Harry was wanting things thrown at him and started chucking chairs around.

Only Sirius and James got a good laugh out of that. They hadn't heard about the Poltergeist in a while, and he was always around when you needed him the least, and the most. This time was sort of both for them, as they really didn't want to let go of their laughing mood, because the moment they did, they'd remember what Harry was fixing to do.

At nearly two in the morning, Harry was finally surrounded by the books, quills, and whatever else he'd managed to summon to him.

"And me Mum always told me nothing good happens after midnight," James beamed.

Lily didn't even bother with the worry that Harry should have been in bed; she knew as well as anyone her boy wouldn't be getting any sleep.

Hermione looked as exhausted as he felt, but praised him he seemed to have finally gotten the spell right.

Harry agreed that he'd certainly seemed to find a good motivator, threatening him with a dragon.

"Is that all it takes?" Sirius demanded as he theatrically popped himself in the forehead, "I'll keep that in mind."

"You'd Crucio someone before you let that threat hang over you," Remus mock-scolded him.

"Well, I'm not as good a person as Harry," Sirius shrugged without remorse.

He successfully summoned a dictionary to him, and Hermione promised that Harry had gotten the spell down at last. Harry still wasn't so sure, as tomorrow he'd be much farther away with his Firebolt up in the castle.

"I'm sure everything'll be fine," Lily said instantly, her faith in her son's charms not wavering for a second. Harry had yet to actually get a spell wrong once he'd mastered it.

"Probably would have sneaked onto the grounds myself to practice," James offered with a shrug.

"Didn't know how getting caught out of bed would affect me," Harry returned, "and I'd yet to have many good experiences of it, so that night didn't seem to be one to try."

Hermione promised that as long as he was concentrating, the spell would work the same. Then she instructed him to try and get some sleep.

The school seemed as wound as Harry the next morning. Whether passersby were wishing him good luck, or promising they'd save him some tissues, Harry felt too detached to notice and instead was thinking of the moment where he'd be led down to the dragons' pen. He was so wound up he'd probably try to curse everything in sight on the way.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Remus chuckled. "They'd think you'd gone mad, there's no way they'd force you to stay in the Tournament then."

Harry snapped his fingers with a jesting regretful face that hadn't crossed his mind.

McGonagall came for him at lunch, and began leading him outside. She asked how he was doing, and he responded fine, but McGonagall still seemed anxious as she put her hand on his shoulder.

Lily couldn't help but coo. She'd always loved McGonagall. Strict as she was, she never missed a moment to show that she cared about her students, and this was one time Harry most definitely needed it.

She instructed him not to panic; they had wizards on standby if anything got out of hand.

"Define, out of hand," Remus groaned without really expecting an answer.

"Yeah, cause that won't cause him to panic," Sirius muttered, unable to stop an almost nonstop shivering. Only the warmth of the baby in his arms was really registering in him now.

All he had to do was try his best, and no one would think the worst of him.

"Best advice to be given," James sighed as he pushed his hand through his hair. He didn't care if Harry was sitting next to him now, fully grown and clearly having survived this, the anxiety galloping up his throat wasn't leaving him at the thought of this.

She again asked how Harry was doing.

"He's just peachy," Remus muttered mutinously.

Harry entered to find the other champions all looking as wound as he did, Cedric pacing with nerves. When he caught sight of Harry he tried to smile, and Harry had to work for a moment for his muscles to respond, as if they'd forgotten how to do so.

"Now you're just depressing me," Lily sighed, her fingers catching strands of her hair and twirling them around her fingers tightly as any form of distraction.

Bagman came bouncing in then, calling out a merry greeting to Harry.

"How is he always in such a good mood?" Sirius snarled with a touch more venom than was really called for. "I get so sick of hearing him say what a good thing this is for Harry!"

"If it makes you feel any better, imagine him wetting himself if he was the one to go in front of those dragons," Remus offered.

It didn't, but Sirius thanked him for trying.

Bagman began telling them all that they would get this started soon, then drew a silk sack. He told that what they'd have to be getting past was inside, and all they had to do was grab a golden egg.

Remus groaned and face planted the pages. He'd detested the idea of getting past a nesting dragon, but, oh, no. Now Harry was expected to grab an egg from her clutch, under her bleeding talons, because that was so much better!

It only vaguely registered when someone smacked him upside the head, but still he glanced up to see Lily with too-bright eyes as she snapped at him, "you nearly gave me heart failure! Can't you pretend for at least a second you didn't just picture Harry getting charbroiled doing this?"

Remus worked furiously for a second, but he really couldn't get rid of the expression until he glanced at Harry who was watching him with concern.

It was not comforting in the slightest that the guy they would have relied on to get them past a dragon was freaking out as much as Sirius, who was only taking long steady breaths as a simple reminder just to keep his chest moving. Both parents were a twitching mess thinking about this, so Remus bolstered himself as he realized he was the only one. "So long as it's only pretend," he almost managed a toothy grin before turning back to the book with determination not to faint doing this.

Harry looked around and saw the set faces of the other champions, though none of them spoke. Harry wondered if they were feeling as sick as he was, though at least they'd volunteered for this.

"Thanks for the reminder, made this all ten times worse," James sneered.

Bagman offered the sack to Fleur first, and she reached inside and pulled out a miniature Welsh Green with a two around its neck. Not a flicker of surprise passed her face, which meant Harry's guess was right, Maxime had told. Krum's expression was the same as he pulled out a Chinese Fireball with a three.

Remus did not miss the fact that Harry was now down to a fifty, fifty shot of getting the worst of the dragons. His mind tried to scatter to a less scary topic, like wondering which breed had been added as the afterthought upon Harry's entrance. Had it been the Horntail, the worst of the lot as an extra challenge, or perhaps the Welsh Green who was, at least compared to the others, the best choice? He didn't have an answer, and knew he most likely wasn't going to get one, but at least the small distraction had done its job and he was able to keep going in a steady voice.

Cedric pulled out the Swedish Short-Snout with a one.

"Of course, absolutely, that makes perfect sense! Harry would get the bleeding Hungarian Horntail, the most dangerous of them all! How could he not! Because this one f'ing time he couldn't have just-" James reached around Harry and almost gently pulled on Sirius' ear to get him to stop, but the tug did indeed get his attention and Sirius forced his tirade to cut off.

Knowing what was coming, Harry stuck his hand inside and pulled out the last dragon and number. It stretched its miniature wings and bared little fangs at him from his hand.

"What are those, anyways?" Harry asked dully, not really curious for an answer as it just involved more dragon talk, but the question had come out nonetheless.

Remus had to think for a moment, collecting his thoughts to something other than a fifty-foot monster in the same vicinity as Harry, before answering. "Normally? The models are used for little tasks. I know a shop in Diagon Alley uses one to roast their chestnuts. They're not exactly real, you don't have to feed them or anything; the magic just makes them lifelike for a few months until you reactivate them."

"Well, that's a relief," Lily muttered, "because for a moment I was honestly afraid those were baby dragons."

"Nah," Remus was actually relaxing now as he kept going, "they imitate real life dragons, and, yes, they can breathe fire, so they're not a toy, but they're not particularly dangerous either. Once the magic in them wears off, they vanish, and you have to buy a new one. It's more of a novelty, to have dragon-roasted chestnuts when you could simply cook them like normal, or other gimmicks that they're really rarely used."

"Well, do me a favor, and keep them away from me as well," Sirius grumbled, suddenly thankful that Remus clearly knew about these things, and had never tried to give one to Sirius as a gag gift. As Sirius most likely would have dropped it down Remus' pants in retaliation, it was wise of him.

Bagman clapped his hands together as everything was set, the numbers on them were the order in which they'd be heading out.

"Did Harry have to go last, though?" Lily couldn't help but scowl. "I wish he'd just gone first to get it over with."

Bagman would be commentating, so when Diggory heard the whistle all he had to do was walk out and things would begin. Then he asked Harry for a private word.

"Why's that?" Sirius asked in surprise, not against anything that would keep Harry away from that dragon any longer than he had to be, but that was still pretty odd.

"No clue," Harry muttered, just as curious, but somehow agitated about it as well.

Harry followed him with curiosity. Bagman stopped not too far away, and turned to Harry with a fatherly expression in place.

James didn't even try to smother his agitation at that comparison. Sirius was one thing, he'd take that jealousy happily any day as James himself would pick Sirius to be any sort of fatherly figure to Harry since he was out of the picture. It wasn't fun to listen to, but tolerable. This f'ing stranger, though, who had been bothering Harry since he met him, was really starting to dig under his skin.

He asked how Harry was feeling, if Bagman could help him with anything?

"Well, that's, sweet," Lily said uncertainly. She at least appreciated Bagman's attempts to see that Harry was feeling okay, but McGonagall had done the same thing without making it so obvious to the other champions. Why would he bother anyways?

Did he have a plan? Harry realized Bagman was trying to offer some advice.

"Jeez, at least Moody was being subtle about it," Remus frowned, "and he did it in return for Harry helping Cedric. What's Bagman playing at doing this?"

"Is it so bad to see him doing something nice?" Lily asked without any real force; she found it odd as well.

"I'd believe it a little more if he'd quit treating Harry like a star every time he walked into a room," James sniffed. "I think he's just buttering up to him."

Sirius did not add his opinion; he still looked likely to vomit at the task to come the moment he did open his mouth.

Harry quickly told that he was fine, he knew what he was doing, though he did wonder why he kept telling people this as he'd never been less fine in his life.

"A terrible habit I wish you'd break," Lily muttered, as Harry said that too commonly now when it came to his headaches.

A whistle blew, and Bagman jumped in surprise as he sprinted off to do his job.

"What you get, you little-" James cut himself off with a few more terse mutters that in no way cut off what Remus kept forcing out.

Harry went back to the tent to see Cedric walking out. Harry tried to wish him good luck, but all that came out was a hoarse noise.

"Credit for trying," Lily tried to get out, though she knew she didn't sound much better.

Harry went back inside to see Fleur had taken up Cedric's pacing, and the three of them listened to the crowd. It didn't do them any good, as all they heard were gasping and applause for whatever Cedric was doing.

"Thought Bagman was supposed to be commentating," Remus grumbled, thinking that would be easier to think about than a random crowd reaction that could be to anything. "He's doing a terrible job of it."

"The less description of them the better," Lily shivered. "I'm going to be having enough nightmares when we get to Harry's, no need to preemptively tell me what to fear."

"Probably isn't too good at his job anyways," James snapped, clearly still rankled over the encounter. "All he does is spout off names, doesn't know how to really describe the action."

Bagman was occasionally inserting a comment or two about how clever something had been, or the risks being taken.

"I stand corrected," Remus rolled his eyes.

"Not hardly," James scoffed, everything they said was still true.

Then the crowd roared in approval, and Bagman confirmed Cedric had gotten his egg. There was silence as the marks were shown, but not told, and then another whistle as Fleur left with her head held high.

Lily couldn't help but agree with Harry in that moment. Though she was losing a shade of color with every passing moment it was getting closer to Harry's turn, and with Fleur being her least favorite contestant so far, even she could see how much it would take of a person to willingly walk into a dragon's den like that.

It was the same all over again up till the end results, and then it was Krum's turn.

And still, even after everything that had happened, none of them could help the mental complaint of why that couldn't just be the last time that stupid whistle was to be blown.

Harry started his own bout of pacing, listening to the noise in a distant way as everything around him seemed too bright.

"Adrenaline will do the strangest things to your body," James agreed absently.

Bagman made a few comments about whatever Krum had done, shouting about how much nerve it had taken to do that, but then he shouted about Krum getting his egg as well.

"What did he do?" Remus yelped in surprise. "Judging from his remarks, did he just charge out to meet the dragon head on?"

"Don't know, hoping I don't have to find out," Lily grumbled, now massaging at her chest that was thundering so hard against her ribs she was sure they'd crack soon. Harry hadn't even had his turn yet and she couldn't seem to find air, and it was only going to get worse when it did. After he was out of the arena, she never wanted to hear talk of dragons again.

The last whistle, and Harry left for the enclosure.

Remus released a deep breath he felt he'd been holding for ages, but there was nothing for it now. He could just keep glancing up as often as he needed to at Harry now, clearly more than fourteen, alive and well, to convince himself he could get past this no matter what.

Everything passed around him in a blur until he was standing in the arena with the dragon. Fifty feet long, with black impenetrable scales and snake-yellow eyes, with deadly fangs and barbs on its tail, the Horntail was a true monster as she hissed at him, smoke already threatening to curl out of her open maw.

The crowd was making some noise around him, but Harry had no idea if it was friendly or not; he didn't care.

"I'd like to think it was an honest combination of both," James muttered, thinking that Hogwarts really couldn't be so shallow to still be roaring disapproval at Harry even in the face of a dragon. Not that cheers would do him any better, but still, it was the principal.

Harry blocked the noise out, and went to work, raising his wand and calling 'Accio Firebolt.'

Sirius felt like someone was constantly flicking his heart, making it do several jump starts that he was sure wasn't normal, but this had been going on since Harry had been led down to the enclosure, so he was growing used to the feeling now and at least had a moment to appreciate that Harry at least had the best broom in the world under him when it came. If he'd trust one thing to help him get past a dragon, at least it could be that.

Harry didn't have long to wait, when he heard the noise of the approaching broom hurtling around the trees right towards him.

No one had really doubted he'd be able to pull it off, but now that the moment had come and his strategy had arrived, everything did come back to them with some clarity. They were no longer listening with quite the same loud buzzing in their ears at least.

Harry mounted his broom, and took off. The moment his feet flew from the ground, something amazing happened: everything went silent, and Harry's worry disappeared. Listening wasn't important,

Though ironically as Harry looked around he found the exact opposite going on, now sure they'd never been listening so hard in their lives. His father had his knee pressed against Harry's in what he assumed was an unconscious gesture just to keep him as close as possible without overreacting. Sirius was burrowed into himself with the baby his life support, his eyes staring at nothing as his head remained cocked to the side to take in every word. Lily's hand was twitching with the impulse to snatch the book away from Remus, read it herself already just to hear it all and be over. Remus' words were slurring together slightly and every time he finished a sentence he'd hesitate a second longer than was normal but still forced himself to keep going in an almost calm voice. It was almost fascinating, and extremely unnecessary, but Harry still couldn't help but watch the lot of them, his family, worry like this.

the crowd melted away and the Horntail shrank to the size of a dog.

"Don't you compare that thing to me!" Sirius rasped out, the first intelligible thing he'd said in a while.

James' first impulse was to reach over and try to smother his best friend for that running bleeding gag, and for cutting Remus off at such a moment, but unbelievably they were all just a little calmer for it as well. If there was one thing they knew of by now, Harry was a superb flyer, and he now had his broom. Harry would get past this.

He was left feeling almost free as something familiar came back to him. This was no more complicated than another Quidditch match, and that dragon was just an extremely ugly opponent.

"You're still not endearing me to this game," Lily muttered with unease, though her usual agitation at the game wasn't present in her voice. She'd take a Quidditch match over this any day.

Harry didn't really notice, as his mind flashed back to last year and his championship game, where he'd had that funny dream about dragons appearing while he played Quidditch. Guess now he understood why he'd felt a premonition about that, but he really wished his brain would stop supplying these things that seemed to inevitably come true.

Harry dived back down towards the dragon for some diversionary tactics, and the Horntail retaliated by blasting fire at him.

Lily couldn't help but startle a bit with nerves at the thought, her own flame colored hair nearly going on end in shock, but Remus wasn't going to pause for a blow that didn't even strike Harry.

Harry dodged as if he were swerving a Bludger.

"A Bludger that's a good thousand degrees hotter, but at least it can't chase you in the same way," James muttered agreeably.

Harry started circling her head, trying to make her dizzy, and when it seemed to be working for a moment Harry made a dive, but not fast enough this time.

Lily felt a screech building up in her throat, her hands automatically flying up to cover her ears so she didn't have to hear what happened to her baby, but again Remus couldn't bring himself to pause as he wanted to know the full extent of whatever blow Harry received.

He'd dodged the mouth, but had instead been grazed by the horned tail, though the cut didn't feel too deep as it grazed his robes.

"Tell me that thing's not poisonous at the end!" James gasped out between a shaking jaw.

"No, no," Remus quickly soothed as he saw the fear on all of them, "if Harry only felt a scratch than that's the worst of it."

James and the others sagged back in relief, not wanting to think what would have happened if Harry had suddenly lost temporary use of one of his arms at such a crucial time.

Still he was forced to zoom away again and rethink. He needed the Horntail to try and take flight, but she was too protective of her eggs to get that far away. Harry had to find some way to persuade her though, or he'd never get close enough. He started zooming back in forth in front of her again, staying at just the correct distance to be close enough of a nuisance, but not so far away she'd lose interest. She tried to blow fire at him again, but Harry avoided that. Her head kept twitching to keep him in sight as she bared her fangs and roared.

That sounded sort of like snake charming to Lily, though she was thankful Harry's gift of Parselmouth didn't extend to the snakes' more beast-like relatives: she didn't want to hear what that dragon would be screaming at her Hare Bare.

Harry flew a little higher and now she was squirming to keep him in sight. He was like an annoying fly to her she wanted to swat, but now he was out of range. She tried to shoot more fire but still he dodged.

Remus' composure was cracking, he couldn't put into words how dangerous Harry was playing this, taunting a nesting mother, and the fear that Harry was going to get a very real injury from messing with her before he had the chance to dive down and grab his egg kept lingering behind his mind's eye, expecting to read out the fateful words any moment. If this didn't end soon, he was going to end up with double vision and probably pass out from stress.

Finally Harry was too much, and she got to her feet, stretching her massive wings and rearing up to come at him, but Harry dived. He swerved down past her legs, and before she even knew it his hands came free of his broom to grab the egg with his good arm. Then he was speeding back and away as the volume returned.

The book slipped out of Remus' hands, though for the first time in pure relief of that finally being over. He rubbed furiously at his eyes for several moments until bright spots appeared, just for something else to see than that bloody forsaken print.

"Oh thank Merlin, I couldn't take much more," James groaned with an odd look of ecstasy on his face as finally all the tension building in his stomach, where he'd had his hand firmly pressed this entire time like he was trying to hold in his innards, was able to release.

Lily couldn't find words to add her agreement.

"Never again," Sirius practically sobbed, still looking more worn than the others and not feeling nearly as relieved at this being over as he would have thought: he was still too wrung up over the incident to feel that. "Never, ever, again do I want to hear mention of those f'ing things around."

Harry tried to laugh it off, wanted more than anything in that moment to tell Sirius that of course this was the last time Harry had a dragon encounter, but the words wouldn't come, and as Remus moved to get the book back and finish his piece, his silence went unnoticed in the relieved room.

The crowd was going more wild with approval than at the World Cup, Bagman was shouting with approval over his victory, how the youngest of them had the best time!

"Really?" Lily couldn't help but raise a brow in surprise. Not that she even wanted, or cared, to know how the other champions had done now that she had proof her son had been fine, but it was still an odd comment. "It sounded like you taunted that thing for a bit. I would have guessed you'd taken the longest."

Harry just shrugged; they knew as well as he did what all had gone on.

Harry watched as the dragon keepers were coming forward to subdue the Horntail, then spotted McGonagall, Moody, and Hagrid waving him down. Harry went to their side feeling lighter than he had in weeks: he had survived the first task!

"There's the bright side," James got out in a weak chuckle, his mind already trying to taunt him with the thought of 'if this had been the first task, what are the others going to be like,' just to ruin his mood, but he swiftly beat that away and tried to just enjoy this one moment of Harry surviving this.

McGonagall was exceptionally pale as she congratulated him, but still told that he needed to go to the med tent and get his shoulder checked before he saw his scores. Diggory was already there being cleaned up.

"Yeesh, that didn't sound encouraging," Remus said with genuine pity for Diggory, feeling bad that he'd had the least time of all to prepare for this, and hoping nothing permanent had happened to him.

Hagrid was booming with praise as well about how Harry had done it, even though Charlie had said-

Harry cut him off there to save Hagrid the mistake of revealing Harry knew beforehand.

"Got to love Hagrid," Lily said genuinely as she smoothed some hair out of her face, honestly surprised at this point she hadn't gone bald from stress.

McGonagall escorted him away then to Pomfrey, who was already in a tirade as he sat down about all the dangerous nonsense that went on around this school. Last year dementors, this year dragons, what would it be next!

"I just want him to survive this year before I have to freak out about that," James muttered bitterly, hoping with everything he had the answer would finally be nothing!

She healed the shallow cut quick enough, but still told him to sit and rest for a moment before popping off to check on Diggory who was hidden behind a curtain. Harry was too keyed up to stay still, though, as he got to his feet and made for the entrance, when Hermione and Ron darted in.

They were all just too bone tired and weary after hearing about this to even bother to tense up in agitation for that. The fact that Ron showed up with Hermione like that must mean that Ron had to have finally come to his senses, to apologize.

Hermione was squealing what a brilliant job he'd done, with fingernail marks in her face where she'd been clutching in fear.

Lily rubbed absently at her face, thinking she wouldn't be surprised if she'd looked the same way at the time.

Harry hardly listened, though, his eyes on Ron, who was watching him like a ghost.

Remus' anger at Ron was already melting away, finally looking past his attitude and just seeing that angry boy who was sick of being looked over. He still thought Ron should have acted better, thought with his head and some slight resentment rather than his emotions, but clearly seeing Harry in such a life or death moment had jarred Ron back to reality.

Ron began seriously,

"Now why would you go dragging me into this?" Sirius asked, finally being able to really smile again for the first time since he'd heard of the stupid dragons to begin with.

Remus groaned and kept reading that little bit louder to drown out Harry's laughter at that joke; he really wished Harry would stop encouraging that.

that whoever had put in Harry's name into that Goblet was out to get Harry.

"Almost had a good go of it," Lily grumbled without any real agitation anymore; she couldn't find it in herself to hold it against Ron now that he was acting the right way.

Harry felt the last few weeks melt away between them, but still asked with a touch of cold that Ron had finally caught on and it had taken him long enough.

Sirius sighed and fidgeted a bit to stop himself saying something. He knew he shouldn't blame Harry if he did decide not to forgive Ron, but he hoped Harry would. Ron was a good friend who'd made a mistake after all.

Hermione watched the pair nervously as Ron opened his mouth, clearly to apologize, but suddenly Harry found he didn't need it.

Finally they were all smiling again, almost as happy as before this tournament had started. Harry still had two more tasks to live through, but if there was one thing that could make this seem okay again, it was that at least everyone who should be on his side was now.

Harry told that he didn't need to hear it, and though Ron tried to say it anyways, Harry promised he just wanted to forget about it. Ron grinned, and Harry returned it.

Lily was as happy as anyone, but she really did hope the boys would still have a talk. Thankfully Ron had chosen to be the bigger person and apologized, but she still couldn't help but worry if they didn't discuss the problem then it could possibly happen again. Resentment could fester, and the next time things might not have such a happy ending.

Hermione burst into tears.

Remus flinched like someone had just chucked a miniature dragon at his head. Lily rolled her eyes at him and all of the boys' suddenly horrified expressions.

Harry watched her in surprise as he said there was nothing to be crying about, but she started crying as she told them both they were being stupid. She hugged them before running out with waterworks.

"She's insane," James said weakly, though Hermione's reaction still wasn't the worst thing Harry's friends had done of late.

"She's emotional," Lily corrected. "She's spent the past few days fearing for Harry's life and then had to live through that in the stands, and then finally felt some relief of watching her two friends make up."

"Girls," Sirius muttered with a deep shake of his head, ignoring Lily's stank eye.

Ron told that she was barking mad as she ran off.

"He's lucky to be using my favorite phrase after I forgave him," Sirius' smirk widened to the agitation of all except Harry.

Then Ron dragged Harry back to the pens so that Harry could see his score. Ron instantly began telling Harry that he was the best of all.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Remus chuckled.

"I think Harry's due for some," James smirked.

Cedric had tried to transfigure a rock into a dog, hoping the dragon would go for it instead of him,

"That's really clever," Lily admitted as her mind flickered with the possibilities.

"Poor dog though," Sirius said sagely.

but it had only worked temporarily when the dragon turned back to Cedric and gave him a burn,

"Oh, the poor dear," Lily instantly switched to concern that he'd been caught so bad!

"Hopefully that won't be a permanent marring," James winced in sympathy. "Pomfrey should be able to get rid of the burn marks."

but Cedric had still gotten his egg in the end.

Fleur had tried to charm her dragon, had almost put it to sleep, but when it snored it caught her skirt on fire, but she'd got there in the end as well.

"I've never heard of that kind of charm," Lily said in surprise.

"Might be a French type of spell," Remus offered with the same curiosity, thinking that foreigners might have some other ways to lull beasts to sleep that weren't in British type texts.

Krum had tried to hit his in the eye with some spell,

"He went for the obvious shot," James nodded.

but that only angered the beast, she'd stomped around and crushed some of her real eggs.

Remus winced in genuine pity for those poor unborn dragons. He may not be particularly fond of them, especially after all the trouble they'd caused Harry, but it was still a sad moment.

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't do that," Harry yelped in surprise, as that didn't sound like a particularly good strategy.

"You definitely found the best way," Sirius nodded in agreement, ironically thinking it was a good thing Ron had interrupted Sirius now from giving that advice.

He'd got marks taken off for that: the real eggs weren't supposed to be damaged.

By this time they'd reached the enclosure again and Harry spotted where the judges had been sitting. Ron quickly explained he was scored out of ten, just as Maxime raised her wand and an eight appeared in the sky.

Ron applauded with the rest of the crowd, noting that she'd probably docked points for his shoulder wound. Crouch, then Dumbledore awarded Harry nine points, then Bagman ten.

Harry asked why on earth he'd done that?

"Most likely your original technique outweighed the minor injury," Lily offered with a happy smile. They were all pleased Harry was getting the proper marks he should be for his display of talent, but none of them could muster up too much enthusiasm for it either: it was still rewarding him for something he never should have had to do.

Ron told him off for complaining as he jumped around in excitement.

"You are most likely the only person who would say something about it," Sirius agreed with a snort.

Karkaroff went last, only handing out a four.

"What a cheap!" James yelped in outrage. "There's no way Harry deserved that low of a mark!"

"At least Maxime was fair on him," Remus agreed tersely.

Ron shouted in outrage about how he'd given his own champion a ten!

"What a wanker," Sirius scowled venomously.

Harry found he didn't care. Karkaroff could have given him a zero, but Ron's outrage on his behalf more than made up for it.

Which tempered off their moods as well. As annoying as all the judges felt at the moment, at least the real person whose opinion mattered was behaving right.

Harry didn't say that aloud, but as he and Ron left Harry had never felt better. Those hadn't just been Gryffindors applauding him: when it had come down to it the whole school had been cheering him on as much as Cedric.

Unlike with Ron, they really felt like that was too little too late in the grand scheme; they'd put Harry through hell treating him the way they had until it mattered, but it was at least nice to hear that they were trying to make up the difference at least after the fact.

Charlie came over to them before they could leave, congratulating him and telling how Harry was now tied for first with Krum! He couldn't stay, though: he had to go write a letter to his Mum to tell her the good news. Bagman wanted a word with the champions before they left, though.

Ron promised he'd wait, so Harry went back inside the tent to an opposite atmosphere. He found the place much more pleasant now, and upon reflection, found that the wait had certainly been worse than the act of facing the dragon.

"Your mind can often be crueler than the real world," Remus agreed.

"Where do you keep pulling that crap from?" Sirius rolled his eyes at him.

The other champions arrived as well, Cedric with some orange paste on his face to help with his burn.

"Oh, the poor thing got hit in the face." Lily's concern really did spike at that.

Sirius wanted to make a joke about how that would ruin Cedric's pretty looks at least, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. So far Cedric hadn't gone out of his way to treat Harry like crap like the rest of his house, and no one really deserved a burned-up face.

Bagman came bounding inside, as pleased as if he'd just thwarted a dragon himself.

"Still want to slap him into a dragon's nest," James huffed, wishing it had been anyone else delivering what this news was.

Bagman quickly congratulated them all and gave them the date of the next task, then said that if they wanted some clues as to what that would be, all they had to do was open the egg and solve that.

"That's rather clever," Lily said without any of the usual enthusiasm she'd have liked. She did love riddles and clues, and integrating the two tasks together like that was rather brilliant, but still there was always that nagging agitation of Harry having to deal with it.

"So long as it does not relate to a second egg-laying monster," Sirius shot back with still a bit more agitation that this stupid tournament couldn't just be over after the one task.

They were free to go then, and Harry caught back up with Ron, asking for more details of what the others had done. They didn't get far, though, when Rita Skeeter appeared.

"Where's Hermione when you need her?" Remus grumbled. "I'd like to see Rita get slapped."

"Hopefully Harry'll toss her a good curse and she'll steer clear for the next century," Lily sniffed.

She seemed more than cheerful as she greeted Harry, asking if she could have a word.

"I can give you several," James said with a grin that wasn't at all pleasant.

"I'm sure you could," Lily quickly interrupted before he could get started, "but compile them for later, love."

"I get the feeling you'll need them," Remus agreed.

Harry was surprised she was really so daft after all the crap she'd done to him that she even had the gall to come up to him like that.

Sirius was just worried that this would cause a relapse in Ron all over again. He'd just walked in on the source of that first argument.

She tried to squeeze in some questions, but Harry did indeed give her a word, good-bye.

Then he and Ron went up to the castle.

"That's even better than what I was going to say," James cackled.

"Hope Ron got a good laugh out of that one," Sirius agreed.

Remus tried to pass the book to Lily while rubbing at his eyes, so it took him a moment to notice Lily declare, "No, that's it." She took the book away from Remus but closed it instead of starting. "I cannot handle any more tonight. Bed, all of you."

"Yes, Mum," Sirius pouted, watching her take up her baby and head for the stairs, clearly stating the matter was closed.

James and Harry exchanged a look, but didn't argue the point as they followed.

Remus and Sirius however, exchanged a look, and though Remus yawned and looked likely to fall back on the couch any moment for his own rest, both still had wide, alert eyes.

HPHPHPHPHP

I'm enjoying asking you guys random questions now and seeing what kinds of responses I get. This time, let me know your favorite subject, and what you think you'd be good at. They are two different things.

My favorites are Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration, the first because I'm just a huge animal lover, whether it can eat me or not (still a Hagrid, yes) and the second because the idea of changing something's very nature into something else is as magical as it can get to me and it's just the most fascinating class.

What I might have the propensity of actually being good at, though, is potions. I love to read, and I would patiently go over every instruction and make sure of every ingredient, but I also love to experiment, so once I got through the basics I'd turn into a Snape-like person and start experimenting and trying new ways to make the potions even better.

Let me know about you!

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #GoF #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter #Jilly

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