#went for a wander around the whole yard (even in the rain which she hates!!)

[cupoftaae]

Forever And A Day (KTH x READER) series ♡ Francis Forever (chapter 17)

Summary: your lifelong friend is forced to face his true feelings for you once he breaks the number one rule of becoming friends with benefits: dont fall in love. He knows he loves you, but you on the other hand need more convincing of the most important thing: the right decision.

Genre: fwb. Roommates, friends to idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, smut, the whole 9 yards tbh.

Pairing: taehyung x female!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni!!!)

word count- 5k

warnings- swearing, angst, mentions of miscarriage, confused feelings, some kissing (some smut not really its like 2 seconds), REALLY EMO

a/n- guys....we have reached the final chapter of Forever And A Day, oh my god. Ive worked on this story since January, its very dear to me, Thank you for everyone who tagged along. I love you so much! there will still be an Epilogue posted as well. Enjoy the chapter angels

-nini

Your feet led you down to the kitchen, where your mom was currently cleaning.

"hi honey" she mumbled, not turning around to see you as she scrubbed the top of the stove.

"hey.." you walk over, opening the fridge and looking for something to snack on. Granted- there was something made for breakfast but you hadn't woken up until 12pm. Technically, it was now lunch.

"do you want me to make you something?"

You peer over to your mom whos putting things away in the storages

"no thats okay" you grab a sleeve of crackers from the cabinet and some cream cheese, opting to sit at the kitchen island with your sad "meal"

"thats not lunch, missy" your mother scolded as she turned to you finally

"meh" you shoved the cracker in your mouth as you watched her grab her coat from the hanger. "where are you going?" you spoke with a full mouth.

"I have to run to the store"

"didnt you just go the other day?"

Your mom peered over her shoulder, waiting a moment "yes...but, I forgot to grab...uh....planter feed, for my little window plants" she nodded over in the direction of them.

"okay....can I come?" you mumble, throwing another dry cracker into your mouth.

"no" she laughed, making you look up

"what, why?"

"because" she began to ramble "well...I love you but Ive spent every minute with you this week, its good to be alone for a few hours"

You raised an eyebrow as if you didnt believe her.....because you didnt. "okayyy..." your voice dragged out

"ill be back in no time, no worried dear." she grabbed her bag and walked to the door, "ill bring you back a coffee" she winked as she left.

Once you heard the door lock, you stood up, licking the cream cheese off your fingers.

why was she in such a hurry to be gone?

Your feet wandered over to the little plant cabinet she had, opening it to see a freshly stocked basket of soil feed packets. Of course she was lying.

She was probably looking for an excuse to see that guy shes been talking to for months now. Why would she lie though? does she think you couldn't handle it?

Chosing to ignore it, you picked up her cat and made your way upstairs to your room, sitting down at your desk.

These days you werent out much, last time you saw other people was 2 days ago when you went to go grab the mail from the mailbox in the pouring rain. Nonetheless, you still loved to get yourself dolled up as if you were going out.

You applied some makeup, carefully drawing out your eyeliner to a sharp point. The way you applied your face could be compared to how you applied yourself to everything else in life- strict and neat, and you hated when you had a smudge

You pushed through your makeup bag, searching for a certain lipstick that you are now realizing you left back in Paris.

"that was $20" you sigh, standing up to wander to your moms room. Surely she has something to use, shes always been one to paint her face, she used to let you play "makeover" when you were young, which might be why you love it so much now. It was always enjoyable, even if you made her look like a clown a bit.

You wondered where she would keep her makeup, as it wasnt in her bathroom. A quick scan around the room brought you over to her vanity drawers.

"ahh, there we go" you happily looked at all of the collective lipsticks and palettes sprawled out in front of you. You grasped a few of them to look for one you would use, when your eyes fell onto a folder underneath all it.

Pulling it out and carefully looking inside, because you were snoopy even with your mothers belongings, you saw what appeared to be a booklet of Polaroid photos.

You giggled softly at the cute older photos of your mom when she was younger, the silly gestures in the photos reminded you that she too is human and has her own emotions.

You came across a specific one in the pile where your mom was looking out the window in her old apartment, obviously pregnant.

that was you.

Smiling softly, you slid through the last bits before picking up one that made your breath hitch.

Your dad.

She still kept every photo. Hidden.

Photos of your dad sitting on the deck of the house with newborn you resting on his chest, photos of him not knowing your mom was even there while he did tiny activities, like fixing or repainting something.

It was so real and so raw, and you wanted to criticize your mother for keeping all of these, because as you looked at his face, you felt nothing but anger.

But you had to remember she spent a majority of her life with him...she had a kid with him....and you almost felt a sense of sympathy for her and the life she thought she would have with him.

He ruined so many things and even after all of that, she cant toss the photos.

Its never really over, huh?

-

You knew deep down that you should've respected your moms privacy and left the room, considering you were only on the look for a lipstick.

But you found yourself still digging an hour later, looking at photos and notes and everything in between. In a way, you felt like the snooping mom looking into her daughters room.

Perhaps you shouldnt have, but you took one of the photos and kept it for yourself. It was of your mom, she had to have been your age in it, and she was standing in front of the old ice cream place she always took you to before it got demolished.

She looked so happy and pure, she had that gleam in her eyes that you struggle to find in her nowadays.

You put the photo into your bag, making sure it was flat and not bent.

With any lesson learnt from your parents, its that your biggest fear is to spend your life in the wrong situation, trying to make it work only for it to end up as the opposite, and leave you with a broken heart.

But on the other hand, you also realize that you dont want to be like your mom, although you admire and adore her, you want to find your place so desperately, and not let any opportunity go to waste.

The doorbell downstairs rang, startling you a little as you rose to your feet, trying to head down quickly.

"coming!" you shout, your bare feet leading you to the locked door. You open it and see a young man with a pizza in his hand. "oh!"

He bows his head polietly, "Hi, pizza for Y/N?"

You almost laugh, "ah...I didnt order anything?"

you thought for a moment and considered that your mother probably ordered it for you, knowing that your choice of meal this morning was crackers and cream cheese.

"its already paid for" he spoke again

"im sorry but-" you sigh "okay....thanks?" you reach out, almost burning your hands at how warm the box was. You dropped it off on the kitchen counter and looked at it.

It was cheese and bacon, your favorite, how did your mom know that?

"should I trust this?" you looked down at the cat crawling over your feet, she smelled the yummy food just above and was trying to access it.

Before you could grab your phone to call her, you heard the doorbell ring again. "seriously...?"

once more, your feet dashed you over as you opened the door, assuming it would be another delivery. You dropped your phone onto the floor as the person standing in front of you turned around.

"I hope you are open to sharing that pizza" Taehyung spoke quietly, a small smile on his face.

"what are you doing here....?" you looked at him like a deer in headlights; scared, relieved, shocked, happy all in one.

He calmed his expression and stepped a bit closer, "can I come in?"

You stepped back and thought for a moment

"please....?" he persisted

"y-yeah..yeah come in" you stepped away and watched him slowly enter the house, taking his shoes off before turning back to you. He didnt have a moment to speak before you threw yourself into his chest, wrapping him up into a tight hug.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you closer as both of your breathing became uneven.

"i-im so sorry...i missed you a lot and I havent texted and, fuck, youre here and im so-"

"shhh...shhh" his hand held your nape as you looked at you, forehead against yours, "dont apologize its okay"

"but-"

"no...lets just go sit down and talk" he whispered, rubbing your back.

You exhaled shakily "okay"

You led him over to the kitchen, still in absolute shock at the fact he is here with you right now. All of the guilt began to seep back in the moment you saw his face.

You took a seat at the counter and looked at him, the sun peaking in through the blinds, leaving stray lines of orange through the room.

He smiled and looked around, pulling the seat out next to you as he sat down.

"So.." you looked at him, swallowing harshly. "wh-"

"your mom called me" he spoke honestly, sitting down and shielding the sun with his hand. "I was worried sick about you, I cant lie"

Yep. Guilt.

"and I didnt wanna bother you, but she called me and said that you wanted to see me so..." he smirked a little, looking down.

You sigh loudly, "oh tae.....i never told her to tell you to come...."

He laughed, throwing his head back "ah I figured sort of...I knew you would have probably texted me yourself"

You nod, stomach fluttering at the sound of his amusement. "yeah..'m sorry for not texting, that was really shitty of me Tae"

"dont apologize, youve gone through a lot, I understand its not easy to jump back in yet...and thats okay." he whispered "but...how are you? what are you feeling?"

"right now? im....im honestly really happy you showed up...."

"yeah?"

You nod, "mhm, i, er, missed you" you fumbled with your words, not wanting to sound needy or desperate.

"I missed you too" his response was quick.

you both looked at eachother for a few moments silently, before you spoke up, "you ordered that pizza, didnt you?"

He began to laugh, "yeah I did"

"I knew my mom wouldnt know I liked bacon...." you giggled, he moved a little closer and smiled.

"and listen, im not here to course you to coming back to Busan, I just wanted to come check on you...because you know I love you always"

You felt your face heat up, "I know...I know tae, I love you too."

"how are you physically?" he spoke quietly

Shrugging, you answered truthfully, "I think Im okay....my body is beginning to go back to normal, so....."

"good, thats good" he nods

"mhm...im glad I have my mom, but I really did miss having you nearby, and I know you dont want to hear it but I have to say it" you mumbled

"you can talk, y/n"

"im so sorry...for everything....its not fair-"

"but-"

"just listen please, its not fair...what I did to you, and I shouldnt have left, that was so shitty to leave you back in Paris knowing you were hurting too"

His face softened

"and what I did has been haunting me so much that I was afraid to contact you in fears you resented me....in fears that perhaps you hated me now-" your voice choked

"y/n, no, no," he grabbed your hands, "I could never hate you....never ever" he whispered moving to see your eyes, "listen to me, It was a bad situation, and perhaps we could have done better, yes, but stop apologizing for dealing with grief."

He wiped the tear stain on your cheek, holding your face close to his, whispering, "does your mom still have popsicles in the freezer?"

The random question made you laugh, "what?"

"this is serious, y/n, does she?"

"I- I think?" you stood and watched him search, successfully finding them. "why?"

He smirked, "you know why" he grabbed 2 and held your hand, bringing you upstairs to your room, opening the window and climbing out to the ledge of the roof

A place you two always sat during your high school days...with popsicles.

"ohh...." you giggled, now understanding his method to the madness.

"been a longgg time since we sat here, why didnt we do it when we visited a few months ago?" he smiled, opening the wrapper and licking the watermelon pop

"Im not sure..." you opened your own, happy that the sun wasn't directly on you two anymore.

Taehyung laid back against the roof, eyes on you from behind. Its been so long since hes seen you, and with every passing day he grew more impatient.

When he got the phone call from your mom, he knew it was mostly her doing, but he was not about to pass up a free opportunity to see you, even knowing the risk of you despising him was still high.

He wanted to call you beautiful, the way the orange sky illumintaed on your skin, it blended perfectly, it was straight out of a disney Princess movie.

He had no clue as to what label you two stood as, was it okay to call you baby? there was never an official breakup. Was it too much to want to kiss you as soon as he saw your face? his body yearned for you in every way, he missed the feeling of your hand in his and your body on his chest at night.

He missed all of you, and it hasnt even been that long.

"you know..." he began, closing his eyes, "Im starting to think im a bit too dependent on you" his voice was teasing,

"why do you say that?" you looked back at him, licking the popsicle.

He shrugged, smirking, "just cant seem to stay away...."

"i dont understand you" you laugh, looking forward again. "ive been such an ass, Taehyung"

"youre not an ass you just feel things deeply and I love that about you"

"is this some kind of kink?" you joke, watching him laugh

"maybe?"

You shake your head as you continue to eat the pop, "I dont shame"

He looked up at the sky, glaring at a plane flying across. He wondered if you two could be seen from the window.

He wondered how tiny and insignificant you would appear to the passengers aboard, who had no idea what situation you both were dealing with, like how he didnt know what they were dealing with.

Life is weird like that.

What problems you have and seem huge may seem meaningless to others, or how from space, you are the size of a grain of salt. It puts things into perspective, and over the past few weeks, hes been thinking about everything deeply and truly....deciding that although it may change nothing, seeing you was the best option.

"Tae?" you spoke, noticing how quiet he got

"remember when we were 16 and it was Easter? My family was over with yours, and you and I climbed up here after dinner and tried to smoke my dads cigarettes for the first time?" he laughed at the memory

You smile, "I smoked it wrong and began to choke"

You both were giggling again now

"you almost swallowed it, how does one fuck up smoking so badly?"

You nudge him, "hey!"

He shrugged, still smiling

"you are quite the smoker yourself now, huh?"

"I grew up with him smoking so yeah, I sort of picked up on it"

You nod, listening

"you hate it though, right?" he smirked

"well you are a grown man, you can chose to do as you please"

"oh cmon dont play coy, you know you would never give up a chance to scold me for it"

"yeah youre right" you sigh at his knowingness "I worry about your lungs!" you tease

"my lungs are okay" he smiled as you laid down on the roof next to him, the sun casting both of your shadows behind you.

"you dont know that!"

"trust baby, if anything was wrong youd be the first to know"

You froze after he called you baby, it wasn't like you two had been gone for years, but neither of you had been lovey in over a month, it felt almost foreign, almost wrong.

He wasnt going to apologize, it did slip, but did he regret it?

nope.

His eyes scanned over yours, softly and lovingly as he moved his hand over your hair, pushing it out of your eyes.

You stared at him, an expression reading shock. He pulled away slightly

"am I making you uncomfortable?" he seemed worried that he stepped too far, scaring you.

"n-no!" you spoke, reaching for his hand. "it just feels odd you know? its not you, its just...."

"been a while" he finished for you

"yeah..."

You still felt safe with him, how could you not?

You didnt want him to make the assumption that you were not okay with his touch anymore, because that definitely was not the case.

You slowly cuddled closer to him, both of you laid on your backs as your head rested on his shoulder, his head leaning against yours.

Both of your lips were painted pink and red from the popsicles, it made you smile.

The sky above you two seemed so big, so endless.

Staring at it was almost frightening.

You reached for his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, he quickly squeezed yours out of affection.

"ahh..." he spoke up suddenly, voice quiet. "I shouldnt.....I shouldnt have taken you to Paris"

You looked up at him

"maybe the plane ride was too much? maybe your body couldnt handle the stress?" he exhaled shakily, eyes still up at the sky. "Im sorry...I really am"

"you dont have to apologize for anything" you turned your body on your side so you faced him, though he still wouldn't look at you.

"hey.." you tried again, "you know, my mom told me she also miscarried when I was 3 years old...and thats why she never had kids after me"

He closed his eyes, squeezing your hand

"So I guess its runs in the family.....not our fault" you shrugged, "Its breaks my heart but...we dont have to blame ourselves"

He turned his head to your finally at the sound of your voice cracking, He brought you closer to his chest, hand rubbing your back. Taehyung swallowed harshly, clearing his throat to talk quietly "I've been...having a hard time dealing with it.

You rested your hand on his chest, looking at him sympathetically. His eyes were now watery, it took a lot to not cry yourself.

Youve already cried.

Youve cried so much

Perhaps you were now accepting the miscarriage for what it was, you were even able to say it aloud now, and thats growth.

You wished the same for Taehyung.

"that's okay, too" you whisper, hand snaking around to brush his hair between your fingers behind his head.

His eyes went back up to the now purple sky, tears reflecting the image in front of you. "do you think they are up there?" he smiled softly, rubbing your back still.

You look up at the sky, the clouds creating a beautiful set up as the sun set behind them. The world felt blanketed and secured in this moment, almost safe.

"yeah" you whisper, squeezing his hand, "but they are also here...with us, you know?"

He looks at you, tear marks on his face as you move to wipe them with your sleeve. "I think we will always be parents, that cant change. I feel that connection so deeply, and I know you do too. They arent gone, they just arent in this world" you add.

Taehyung smiled softly at your words, nodding slowly, "yeah....yeah youre right"

His thumb runs over your knuckles, calming you both down.

"I cant get myself to get rid of anything...like the stuff we bought." you mumble, looking down at your hands.

He chuckled, "mmh, you dont have too."

You sighed and looked at him again, a warm blush coating your cheeks.

"you know...I dont give you enough credit" he spoke "youve been through so much"

"Tae..." you brush his hair back, "youve given me everything....we need to look ahead...the past cant be changed."

He slides his hand under the hem of your shirt, touching the soft skin on your hip bone. It wasn't promiscuous or anything, simply an act of love and affection, silently showing you he's here and is listening.

"Im really sad" he choked out

You hugged him close as he began to cry into your shoulder

"its okay baby, its okay....its okay to be sad, you dont have to be strong for me" your hand caressed his back. "I love you so much, please know that"

He took a moment to calm down before pulling back to look at you, "y-youre right....we do need to look forward now"

You nod softly, holding his face.

You were a little worried to see him in this state, you didnt know he was feeling this and keeping it down for so long.

All you could do was comfort him and be there.

"I just.....are we still...." he trailed off, making you smile as you cupped his face again, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks lovingly.

"mm" you slowly leaned forward to kiss him

It was a nice kiss, not too slow but not too fast, just what was needed after a month of distance and no contact.

He blushed brightly, holding you as he whispered, "do you think we could start over? I really want to treat you right, and I want this to work. We can work it out right? the correct way this time?" his voice wavered

You nodded, still looking at him "yes....we can try again, the right way" you giggled as he leaned forward to kiss you again, this time a little quicker.

He bit your bottom lip, hands gently squeezing your hips

"baby-" you exhaled into his mouth, gently pulling back to look at him. "maybe we shouldnt"

"why?" he frowned, almost looking like a little kid

"well for starters we are on my roof" you giggled, sitting up

Taehyung smiled and looked around

"and....I dont know...sex is what brought us this mess" you teasingly nudged him, making him laugh. "lets just be with eachother for a little bit and let our feelings lead us to what happens"

He sighed, knowing you were right. "okay....can I still cuddle you though?" he whispered, making you coo at his cuteness.

"of course, lets go"

You slowly led him back into your room off the roof, closing the window before settling down on the bed with him. "when are you going back to Busan?"

He held you, face hidden in your neck "maybe in a few days...I dont want to leave you yet if thats okay"

"okay...thats fine, but, I think I'll head back with you...."

He smiled, rubbing your back "yeah?"

"mm" you kissed his head, closing your eyes.

You were still healing. To say you fully recovered was not true, but as you sat in his arms things felt normal again, even if it would be temporary.

Perhaps you needed to be with him to fully heal, to fully be yourself. Taehyung was your other half, and he knew you better than anyone. To give this another chance is like a breath of fresh air.

Putting your pasts behind you in hopes of feeling happiness again, in hopes of both of you becoming better people for each other.

Taehyung doesnt want to leave you, ever, and you cant say you want him to.

You dont spend half of your life with someone then let them run away just because things go downhill.

If your father was in your presence, you would teach him this lesson.

When you love someone, you hold their hand and walk through hard times together, you dont let them leave over something that both of you know you would need eachother's support for. To think- you almost let him out of your grasp, you almost lost him.

And Taehyung loved you so much...that if you asked him to leave....he would have.

You dont know what the future entails, and yes, its fucking terrifying. Life is scary, theres ups and downs, and suprises and failure, but theres also a lot of love, and happiness, and success if you look hard enough.

You do hope one thing for sure, and thats that he will be at your side as you grow up, to be there when you are right and wrong, healthy or sick, happy or sad.

As you both began to pick up the pieces of what was broken, you appreciated the past, knowing you had to let it go, but it also brought you here, back into where you feel most safe.

You renovated the apartment and turned the Nursery into a craft room for Taehyungs painting. He kept all of the baby belongings in the closet, hoping for the day in the future when he would open it again and feel that sense of excitement but nervousness.

You continued work and college classes, pursuing your acting career that youve always wanted, and when you graduated, Taehyung would never let you forget how much he admired you.

He kissed your neck softly, his hand pressed into yours as he hovered above you, "so beautiful, my love...."

you bit your lip before exhaling a shaky moan "ohh..f-fuck"

"so smart....youre so perfect baby, I love you"

He kissed you gently, still moving his hips against yours as you held him close to you, fluttering your eyes shut.

things had settled into place once again.

Taehyung got offered a job as an art teacher at the college you graduated from, taking the full time position while you worked at the local theatre, producing and preforming sold out plays every weekend.

The saving money part was hard for him, he wanted to buy you anything you laid your eyes on.

"did you seriously buy the couch?!" you tossed your bag, running from the doorway to the living room to see the grey couch you had pointed out shopping with him literally the day prior.

He shrugged, "yeah...whats the big deal?"

"taehyung!" you giggled and hugged him.

He was too spontaneous for his own good.

A few years passed, and looking at your current life now, you would not believe how much had changed. You can say for the first time in a while you felt happy...and oh what an exciting and freeing feeling that was.

"I love youuuu! my baby!!!!!" taehyung danced around on the icy sidewalk outside of your apartment door, it was new years eve and he was drunk.

very...very drunk.

He pointed at you as he sang, "my babyyyy! woo!"

You giggled, sitting on the steps and recording your man child boyfriend whom you loved so much. "baby be careful dont sl-"

too late.

He fell on his ass, laughing so hard he almost puked, which of course made you laugh too.

"cmon ya big baby" you ran over and helped him inside. Midnight had already passed earlier, pre-drunk taehyung had danced with you around the living room, gifting you a small kiss once the clock read midnight.

"hm, I dont get it, whats so different about a new years kiss? its like every other one?" you laughed after his lips left yours.

"well its special because I get to be the first to kiss you in the new year" he smiled cheekily

"tae...your the only one who gets to kiss me any year" you point at him

"damn right" he snaps his fingers at you as he walks past into the other room.

Every holiday you spent with him felt special, every event, every grocery run, it all felt so much more authentic now.

You two were in your mid twenties now, and a lot of mental growth had come along with that. With pride, you can say you were better people than before, and thats why things worked so well.

You could easily live like this forever.....

it was basically an endless sleepover with your best friend. You were okay if you could come home and see his face waiting for you on the couch.

Your sweet boy.

You had no idea what was gonna happen next, whether that was marriage, or another attempt at having kids- you felt ready.

Ready to give him anything he wanted in return for him saving you.

You could do anything, be anywhere or anyone, in good or bad conditions, and you will still only crave him.

Your lover.

You want him for months

for years

for eternity...

For Forever And A Day.

And God knows he felt the same.

-

A/N- wow guys....this is it....I cannot thank you enough for reading my first story on here, im not perfect at writing but you guys keep me motivated and confident in my work, and I love you for that. This will not be the end of this couple, we still have the Epilogue as well as eventual drabbles.

You guys are amazing. ily.

-Nini

taglist-

@turnthepageandbeburnt @taebangtanbabe @borahaexoxo @lelefoodlover @tan-veee

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung bts #bts taehyung #kim taehyung series #taehyung series

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Is it possible to get high off relief

#Effie was breathing really weird today #I thought it was just bc it's humid AF and none of us are used to that #but it got worse this evening so we had to drain her #and I was terrified that it meant there was fluid in her lungs #but no #the drain went SUPER well #one of the best ones we've ever done #and afterward she: #chased down and devoured an earwig #went for a wander around the whole yard (even in the rain which she hates!!) #absolutely OBLITERATED her food dish #went ham on a spider that was crawling on the opposite side of the mesh #(no spiders were harmed but that wasn't for her lack of trying) #and scratched up all the nice clean bedding I lovingly put out for her #I feel like Mum and I are more exhausted than her #X'D #Matt speaks #my pets #Effie #her Majesty lives #her breathing is wonderfully healthy again #RELIEF

[jamilelucato]

Hi there! Could I maybe get a fred Weasley x Romanian!Reader and maybe like she goes to the burrow for the holidays? She could try to confess to him by telling him he loves him in Romanian but always telling him it means sth else. But she doesn't know about Charlie and the fact that he used to live there, and then... y'know, up to you? Just thought this was an interesting idea lmaoo. Thank you and congrats!!🥺💕

Te Iubesc [F.W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Romanian!reader (can be from any House really)

A/N: I ended up changing a bit of your context and only noticed it later, and I’m really sorry for that. Instead of she saying it all the time, she accidentally confesses it in Romanian. I'm sorry it's not what you actually asked for, but I hope you enjoy it either way.

Send a request! ||  Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

**

It was particularly weird being a Romanian at Hogwarts, but since it was your parents’ dream to you study there, you were not to complain.

It took you a while to find your place, but it was way easy when the famous Weasley Twins played a prank on you. 

When your whole body turned blue, and you ran around the corridors of Hogwarts, asking, angrily, if anyone had seen who could be guilty of it — you knew it could only have been the twins. They appeared two hours later in front of you, with puckered foreheads and using minimal eye contact. One of them had a flask, and he handed it to you.

“We’re really sorry,” he said, with an almost smile, but not of happiness. He wouldn’t dare laugh at your blue skin while you stared at him with a killer expression. “It wasn’t for you; we mixed it up in the deliver.”

“And what is this?” you asked, raising the flask closer to your eyes to analyze it better.

“The antidote,” one of them said.

“You don’t want to be forever blue, do you?” asked the other and they both giggled.

You drank all the liquid in one gulp, desperate to go back to your natural colour. The twins stared at you while your body changed its colour, and you couldn’t see the point. What did they want? Thanks?

“Are you two expecting me to thank you?” you asked, with a mean voice.

They exchanged looks before smiling.

“No, we just would like to introduce ourselves, that’s all,” said the one that had more freckles.

“You’re Fred and George Weasley, everyone knows who you are,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You saw their eyes following your arms, and then they blushed. You chuckled at those boys stupidity.

“But do you know which is which?” he continued, smirking. “I’m Fred,” he whispered, tipping you since you hadn’t answered his question.

“I’m George,” said the other.

You took a great look at both of their faces, making sure you discerned things that would make it easier to differentiate them. Fred had a better posture, nothing very perfect, but just slightly better than George. And he had more freckles, at least on his face he did.

“I’m y/N,” you said, noticing they were waiting for you to present yourself.

And that was enough for a born of a beautiful friendship.

The pranks still got you, those times on purpose, but they all gave you a break when you asked. You started helping them with their homework and study for exams — even though they hated it.

You lost track of how many vacation days you spent in the Burrow, and this year, you were going back there. You were especially excited this year — and partly worried — because, since the beginning of the sixth year, you’ve been developing an enormous, gigantic crush on Fred.

So, spending the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys, having Fred next to you all weekend, was going to be awesome, but also terrifying because he had no idea you fancied him — and you wanted things to still be like that. 

Fred was known to have had tons of girlfriends — he usually told you everything about every girl he ever snogged. You didn’t want to be just another one that he would abandon in a month. That would completely ruin your friendship, and that meant being apart from a ton of other friends. Being friends with the twins allowed you to befriend Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry, and now they are essential in your life too.

“Hi, dear!” Molly hugged you tightly as soon as you stepped in the kitchen. You hugged her back once your shock passed. “I’m so happy to have you here for another year; surely I can’t stand my kids saying again I have a terrible taste for music.”

Oh, yeah, one fact: every Weasley kid (in particular Fred) hated your taste in music. They hated it because you loved the same singers as their mom did, and Fred disliked it the most. As more annoyed he got by your singing, more you sang.

“By the way,” you smiled, “you’ll love the present I got you. I know I shouldn’t say something yet,” you leaned in Mrs Weasley’s ear and whispered: “but I just wanna make sure you haven’t got Warbeck’s newest CD, have you?”

Molly Weasley gasped in surprise and hugged you even tighter.

“That’s why you’re my favourite!” she muttered in your ear and winked when you leaned away and faced her.

Blushing, you went upstairs to find the room Molly always left for you — it was Charlie’s old room. It was the closest to the twins, so you liked it. And the place was decorated with old faded posters of creatures only your home country could offer.

You’ve never met Charlie Weasley, only Bill and Percy, but you knew he was fascinated with dragons, and that your country had to offer. 

You lost a couple of minutes staring at one of the posters; not for the dragon, but because of the background — your old but forever home.

When you got out of the room, you didn’t even need to wander around to find the twins.

“y/N! You came!” shouted an excited Fred Weasley, getting you by your waist and spinning you around in a hug.

George was right next to his twin, rolling his eyes at how foolishly obvious you two were about fancying each other, but none would move a finger to change the situation.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you say when Fred finally puts you down. “Hey, George!”

George hugs you too, but not with the same passion as Fred. It makes you wonder if it was your fault somehow to why Fred spun you around. You should have gone with a simple embrace like you’re doing with George. Gosh, why having a crush has to be so hard?

“So, we’re planning a Quidditch game in the yard. You in?” Fred asked as soon as George released you.

“Sure,” you smiled, placing your hands on your waist. “But I’m seeker,” you warned, raising a brow.

“Harry will love to hear that,” George commented.

“And I need a broom,” you added, tilting your head, trying to look pity-worth.

“You can take mine,” Fred said while you three headed downstairs.

You stopped right away. George kept walking, and suddenly it was just you and Fred in the middle of the stairs.

“You’re gonna use your old one? No way; that thing sucks, Fred,” you said.

“But a seeker needs a better broom than a beater,” he pointed out, tilting his head towards you and some red locks fell upon his eyes. Instinctively, you reached for them and took away from his eyes. He blushed with a small smile.

“You’re too nice to me,” you said, nodding and starting to walk again.

“Perhaps you deserve it,” he muttered, half-hoping you wouldn’t hear, and half-hoping you would.

Fred has been playing this dangerous game for a while now — plainly flirting with you, expecting that if you didn’t see him that way, you would take it as a joke.

When the game finally started, you were glad to be in Fred’s team. Some arrangements had to be done to accommodate less than the minimum number of players per team, so instead of two beaters, your team had only Fred.

Ginny was your keeper; even though she hated the position, she was proving to be quite good at it. Of course, Ron, on the other side, was being way better.

The disadvantage for you was that although you are a great seeker, you had to be also a good chaser, because your team had only three players with you, so that left you with two jobs. Fred helped as much as he could, but he was more used to his role as a beater than to play a chaser.

When George’s team won — Harry got the Snitch (I mean, come on, how to compete?) — you were completely dirty.

You’d never tell Fred, but George was a better beater than the twin, so you’d been hit more times than you would’ve liked and ended up rolling on the grass, still wet from the rain the night before, enough times that your pants (which were blue jeans) were now the colour of mud.

None of this was bothering you, however. You were, in fact, laughing at yourself and everyone who was also dirty. Hermione had arrived in time to watch the last minutes of the match, but she was now trapped in the kitchen, with Ron and Harry filling her with bizarre theories. George and Ginny had run off right after the victory celebration, to see who could get to the shower first.

Although you have no idea how long you would still have to stay dirty, showering was your last concern. At the moment, you were occupied in trying to smudge Fred even more, while both rolled on the grass like two crazy kids.

It felt like a tickling and laughing competition — what you were competing about was uncertain, however, you were definitely competing because Fred wasn’t leaving you alone and you were loving it.

“Thanks for the match, Fred,” you said the instant you were able to breathe without laughing. You were propped up on your right elbow, which raised your head enough so that you could see the redhead’s face, who was looking at the sun that was already hiding behind the clouds. “You could have left me; it was clear that I was going to lose.”

“Give it up then, y/N. I’ll never leave you,” he replied, looking sideways at you and looking back at the setting sun.

You took a deep breath, enchanted by his beauty and his words. When you realized you had already said: “Te iubesc.”

Fred turned quickly at you, frowning. “Did you say something?”

You gulped, as red as one can get and quickly got up. You had just said you loved him, thankfully in Romanian, but still... Close call.

“I’m heading to the shower,” for the first time that late afternoon, you were urgent to get cleaned up. 

“I don’t think George — or Ginny, whoever got there first — is done yet,” Fred said, sitting down on the grass.

“Doesn’t matter,” you pretended to laugh it off and rushed inside the Burrow, leaving a confuse Fred behind.

Well, not so confused. Fred was almost certain you said “te iubesc” to him, and he was sure that was something in Romanian. He knew you were from there, and he always waited for the moment you would let a Romanian dialect, word or accent slip, but that day never came — until now.

He waited for this moment because he made Charlie teach him some primary words, so he could reply with a ”yes”, “no” or simply “Nu mai esti în România.”

Although at the top of his head, your words didn’t click in his head as nothing he knew the meaning, he had a feeling he had heard it before. He could ask Charlie, but knowing the family owl, it would take Fred a week to learn the meaning.

He waited a while before heading to the kitchen, where he found a distracted Harry, a sceptical Hermione and his younger brother, Ron, eating, as always.

“Ron?”

“Huh?” Ron let out between bites. 

“Have you seen Mum?” Fred asked.

“I think she’s doing laundry,” Ron answered. “Why?”

“Wanted to ask her something, that’s all,” Fred was already turning away when Hermione called.

“Perhaps I can help. What’s it?”

“Nosy,” grunted Ron, but the girl didn’t hear.

“It’s a phrase in Romanian. Somehow, I think I heard Charlie say it to Mum once,” Fred shrugged, assuming Hermione wouldn’t be able to help with that.

“Your mom keeps a Romanian dictionary in the living room. Over the fireplace,” Hermione said as if it was nothing — as if the whole family knew about it.

Fred raised his brows, suddenly excited. “Thanks, Hermione,” he mumbled before rushing to the fire to get the book.

After some minutes with it, Fred was about to give up. The dictionary was no help with phrases; it was only good for random words alone.

“Mum!” he exclaimed in surprise and relief when Molly walked in, holding a basket of clean clothes.

“Fred!” she exclaimed back. She wasn’t used with her kids that excited to see her.

“Last time Charlie was here, he was using a lot of Romanian dialects,” Fred started, not sure of how to proceed.

“Yes,” his mother simply said.

“And he said something to you after hugging you. Did he translate?”

“Oh! Te iubesc?” Molly definitely was not used to Romanian — in Fred opinion her accent was terrible compared to yours, but the words were apparently the same, so he didn’t complain.

“That’s it! What does it mean?” Fred jumped from the couch towards his mother.

“It means I love you. Your brother is such a sweetie,” Molly smiled with the memory — she missed all her kids, but most especially Charlie and Bill.

Mrs Weasley was so distracted by the memory of the last hug she gave her son, that she left the room without lingering with her older twin son. She didn’t seem to notice that Fred was paralyzed in place, relying on the sofa to keep him upright.

Fred couldn’t think — he was silly, completely silly. As crude as the adjective was, that was how he felt. He was happy, of course, he was!

You had practically declared yourself to him, and yet you had done so in innocence, using your mother tongue, which, in Fred’s opinion, only proved how true you were.

He had to do something about it. But what? It’d be ridiculous to use your words to reciprocate the statement — Fred wouldn’t be able to copy the accent well enough to make the sentence natural.

Something told him that he should act naturally about it and wait for your confession in English, which would mean that you really wanted him to understand. 

But then, how to look at you again and ignore that the most beautiful girl in the world, the friendliest, the funniest, the most talented, had said that she loved him? How would he ever go back to acting normally knowing that the only girl he ever loved— that he always hoped would be his— loved him?

Taking a deep breath, Fred came to an inevitable conclusion: he needed to be the one who would confess his feelings. Now he just needs a plan to how to do it.

After a long wait, it was finally your time with the shower, and you hoped it would clean not only your skin but also your thoughts.

So close, so close you came of confessing to Fred. Well, you actually did it, but in Romanian, so he’ll never know it.

You needed to distract yourself from Fred Weasley, but after that shower, everywhere you looked, there he was. 

Fred was outside of the bathroom, waiting for his turn to shower. You greeted him with a yellow smile before rushing back to your room. 

Just an hour before dinner, you were sitting in the living room, and he decided to sit next to you in the couch. Sure a part of you was thrilled, but another was freaking out.

When dinner was ready, he sat next to you again at the table.

When you thought you were about to free yourself from him —leaving quickly from the dinner table and rushing to get the armchair, where you would at least sit alone, he called you out.

“I need to show you...” he looked around before continuing in a whisper, “... a new product.”

You sighed, deciding it was better if you learned how to swallow your feelings and let your love for Fred kill you from inside out.

You two walked to upstairs where he guided you to hs room.

“Where’s George?” you asked once you sat down, remembering that generally, when they had a new product, George was always around to see your reaction too.

Fred just shrugged, almost ignoring your question.

“I have something to tell you,” he said fast, scared he would lose his courage. “And, well, I don’t really know how to do it... You see, I’ve never told a girl I’m in love with her before.”

Fred hadn’t realized that he had just done that, so while he was lost in words, rambling how amazing you were, you were frozen at just the “I’m in love” bit.

“Come again?”

“...should have said it sooner, because I’ve been... — wait, which part do you want me to say again?” he stopped his tracks.

You sighed and looked up from your knees, raising your eyes enough to meet his.

“You love me?”

“Te iubesc, yes,” Fred said. and then he hit himself in the forehead because he had promised he wasn’t going to use Romanian to declare his feelings. “Sorry about the Romanian bit. I love you, yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Wait. You understood me earlier?” your brain was just malfunction at this point, like a broken old computer.

“Not right away...” Fred stopped talking when he noticed you were panicking. “Look, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time now. When you said it first, you just made things easier for me.”

“How did you know?”

“Charlie, my brother. He lives in Romania.”

Damn it, of course, the dragon fanatic would have gone live in your country; why wouldn’t he?

For a few minutes, or at least you guessed it had only been minutes, Fred stood in front of you, who was sitting on his bed, and the two avoided looking at each other for a long time.

“Should’ve guessed. Your mom kept Charlie’s posters of my country in his room,” you tried to laugh it off.

Fred ended up chuckling too. “Can we quit being awkward? I really want to kiss you,” he said, smiling and blushing slightly at the same time. “I mean, my brother will leave the room just to us for not much longer.”

It was your time to chucked while getting up, ready to have Fred’s lips in your for what you hoped would be the first of many times.

“I have a room for my own, silly,” you whispered in his ear before he smirked and trapped you in his embrace.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x romanian reader #george weasley #the burrow #hary potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley x you #fred and george weasley #fred and george

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 41

Read on AO3. Part 40 here. Part 42 here.

Summary: You need Kylo Ren to understand. He needs you to understand, too.

Words: 3900

Warnings: an attempt at emotions

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Is this angst? Is this how you write angst? Is it angsty enough? Hahaha.

Thank you all very much for reading. Only four chapters left, and I am honestly terrified! Haha. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I tend to like the ones where I can attempt something new. I want the emotional beats to feel correct. 

I love y'all very very much. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU. 

You were awake.

Your bed was stone, a slab that poked through your flesh into the bone, forcing adjustments between tired sighs. Even though this movement exhausted you, you found it impossible to sleep.

It couldn’t have been the baby. After all, it was blueberry-sized at this stage, a time when most women didn’t even know they were pregnant. And it couldn’t have been pain, as most of it had subsided, or faded to a pleasant, ambient hum in your nerves, far more comforting than distressing. It couldn’t have been hunger, either--at least not anymore. Sneaking food from the kitchen after sunset had quelled your raging stomach.

But you still found it impossible to sleep. 

It was obvious, of course, why you couldn’t, but it was a memory you wanted to avoid processing. Johana’s tattered voice, gleaming tears, her admission--I give up, you won--played in your head like a busted cassette tape, rewinding with a sickening click every five seconds. Your Commander’s decision, his cruelty, that remained unprocessed too, a willing rejection of his apparent reckless obsession. You would not, could not consider just how deep, how desperate this obsession was, would and could not consider the urgency of its terrible course.

If you considered it too long, you would feel its twin, the ache in your blood, the silver pulse of your own mirrored need--and know its depth and its desperation as easily as you knew to breathe.

You sat up in a sigh. Beyond your porthole window, the quarter-moon was an opal shimmer over the garden, and the only stirring residents outside were crickets, grasses shifting with the whispered wind. If you were going to be awake and miserable, you could at least gaze into something other than your own empty ceiling--so you rolled out of bed with a groan, deciding bare feet and a nightgown were plenty appropriate for a time where you planned for no one else to see you.

On your tip-toes, the creak of wood could be mistaken for the settling of an old home, your fingers skimming the walls for stability while you crept down the steps and through the darkened halls. You weren’t sure what time it was, but you knew your Commander to be a man of little sleep and littler compromise--seeing him was the last thing you wanted at this moment. When you reached the back door, you held your breath, flipping the lock and easing the knob to the left, prying it open, only to be greeted with a huge black shadow.

“Jesus Christ!” You bit a scream between your teeth, stumbling back--as your vision focused, heat rushed you. It was a Knight Templar. “Um. Hello.”

“What are you doing here?” This was Ushar again--you recognized his voice from earlier--and you relaxed, slightly. Your awkward moment with him was already addressed. “You’re not permitted to leave the premises.”

Another sigh escaped you, and you crossed your arms. You would’ve felt more embarrassed to be only in your nightgown if he hadn’t already seen everything else. 

“I’m not leaving,” you replied. “I just want to be outside for a second.”

Ushar glanced into the garden, then back to you. Or at least, you thought he did. Helmet and all of that. “It’s late. The Commander will expect you to be sleeping.”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t really care about that right now.” You went to push past him, and he side-stepped to follow you. “Oh, come on,” you said, “why are you even here? He’s home, he shouldn’t need you.”

“We’re on duty until his meeting with the Council tomorrow.”

You blinked. “Oh. I thought all of that was today.”

He shook his head. “Preparation. Tomorrow is execution.” A pause. “Figuratively speaking.”

Dread sank its tiny teeth into your stomach. “Or maybe literally, knowing him.”

Ushar cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said. “Well.”

Silence settled between you. Strange, to speak with a man who had, less than 24 hours ago, stood in a circlejerk to spatter you with sperm, and stranger still to converse casually with him about the fact that your mutual Commander’s preferred solution to any issue was to blow its brains out.

“Well.” You cleared your throat, too, as if this would ease the tension in any meaningful way. “Look. I just want to walk around the garden a little bit. You can stand and watch me the whole time.” Half-grinning, you held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh. Um. Boy Scouts?” Your shoulders sagged. More heat at your face. Perhaps the strangest thing of all was the reminder that anything and everything familiar had been razed like a forest by Gilead’s flame. “They were like. A thing. Before…” 

“Never heard of them.” Ushar paused, and pivoted to the side. “Go ahead. Don’t be long.”

“Thank you.”

Pinching your lips between your teeth, you slipped outside, neglecting the stone pathway and cutting into the grass. The little blades were fuzzy at your feet, wedging between your toes, and the air cleaned your lungs, the sky a lonely galaxy beyond the hedges and the yard. Gold twinkle lightning bugs flickered between the flowers, hovered above the pond, the sole source of light outside of the sterling moon and stars. You peeked over your shoulder at your sentinel--but he was motionless, observing you in silence.

Your feet carried you past the bench into the mini-maze, catching sight of the birdfeeder, the bag of seed. The Marthas hadn’t gotten to it, yet--not that they would have had time to--and in its day and a half of neglect, the bag had toppled over, spewing seed onto the ground, the feeder abandoned in two pieces by its side. It seemed almost rude, now, to see this mess and decide it was a job for someone else. With a shrug, you strode over, heaved the bag onto its bottom and started scooping handfuls of tiny kernels, dumping them back in.

They spilled like water through your fingers, raining onto your feet and the dirt--you seemed no closer to your goal with the next scoop than you had with the one previous. Another one, and another, and still the seed scattered, palms empty before you reached the bag. Sighing, you gave up, choosing instead to grab the feeder and pop on its top. As you gathered both halves in your hands, the backdoor opened, and you froze. 

“Where is she.”

Your throat thickened. You dropped the feeder. He was here.

“She’s beyond the hedges, sir,” Ushar replied. “She just--”

Scuffing soles on stone cut him off, storming toward you--and you remained, unflinching. Even if you wanted to run, there was nowhere for you to go.

Kylo charged the corner into the maze, still dressed in black, his shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose his clavicles, which you hated to acknowledge. At the sight of you, he stalled, capturing you in his gaze, focusing on your figure, curves draped in your white nightgown, your breasts unbound, your hair wild vines over your shoulders. He swallowed, air rolling through him, attention drifting to your face. The muscle under his eye fluttered, his fists furled.

“You weren’t in your room.”

You knew hadn’t imagined it--the tremor in his voice, the quiver at his chin. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded scared.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Kylo took a single step--the distance between you seemed at once too great and too smothering, and he stopped, drawing a long breath through his nose. He stared, held it, chest rising, then released it, hands relaxing as he exhaled. His gaze slid to the hedge, tracing the woven ropes of leaves through the trimmed branches, wandering to the grass and landing there. The crickets hummed in the void. You would’ve asked why he had headed to your room if he hadn’t made the answer so plain to your eyes.

“The first time we met here,” he began, “I said I wanted to know you.”

You offered a slight shrug. “We’ve definitely become more familiar.”

“I do know you.” He glanced up. “I know that there’s a part of you that wants to stay.”

“Really.” Frowning, you shifted on your feet, ignoring the warmth at your cheeks. “You know that.”

Kylo stole a step. “Yes.” Another, and another. “I do know that.” Two more, and his long legs had brought him within arm’s length, his pupils wide in the night. “Because there’s a part of me that wants to leave.”

Oxygen escaped you, and you shook your head, averting your gaze. Crackled embers glowed in your heart; given his hesitations, his strangled frustrations, and your own inability to find resolve, this had been a part of him you’d already known. But to hear it from his mouth, given life on his lips, it was palpable. Tangible. You met his eyes again, paralyzed by their power--they were endless, brimming with emotion even you yourself had never been asked to name. 

For a second, you forgot to speak, wondering how you could snatch this moment like spun glass in the air. Then you stepped closer, and grabbed his large, strong hand.

“Then why don’t we?” you murmured. “We can go. Just be. We can forget all of this.”

Kylo fled--for only a millimeter--before steeling himself, curling his hand around yours, and bringing it up to his face. He examined your thumb--now scabbed, but still sore, and stroked it with his own. Satisfied, he wove his fingers between yours, pulled you to his chest. 

“All of this,” he said, “is under my control, now. I can keep you safe.” His other hand cupped your cheek, fingers coasting over your skin. “Make you want for nothing.”

Staring into him, into the vortex of his gaze, you tried to swallow the thickening desire to admit the only thing you did not want him to know.

“You keep saying that,” you replied, tugging his hand from your face. “But as long as I’m in Gilead, I will never want for nothing.”

His hand squeezed yours. “There’s more I need to do.”

You shook your head again. “Well, even if you could make that happen--”

“I can.”

“Even if you could.” You unwound your grip from his, stepping away. “What about everyone else?” The Resistance, the car chase, Poe’s head, Snoke’s mansion, the dress, the party, Tera Jackson, the Widows, the Wives, Johana--all dangled above your brain, a broken mobile composed of the casualties of your affair. “It’s not enough, it’s not fair to change my life when it makes everyone else suffer,” you said. “Why not just live a life where you don’t have anything you need to change?”

He raised a brow, as if he hadn’t understood the question. “Because I need to.”

You sighed. “But why?”

Kylo’s gaze broke from yours, aiming beyond you as his tongue traced his teeth in thought. A soft exhale, and his attention returned. “The world was flawed, before Gilead.”

“Gilead has only made the world more flawed.”

He grumbled. “Do you understand what happens to those without direction?” he asked. “Without order?” You were silent, waiting for him to continue--he speared you with his stare. “Chaos.” A tension in his throat. “Suffering.”

“Those without direction…” Head tilting, you searched his face. Puzzle pieces shifted close, edges locking--his rage, the graveyard, his terror, his Wife’s own words. “If the world wasn’t flawed, you wouldn’t have been abandoned,” you said. “That’s what you think.”

His eye twitched, jaw rigid. “It made sense.” Blowing air through his nose, he paced around you, fingers curling in and out of fists. “Snoke made sense. At first.”  He huffed. “But he was just as flawed.” Steady and still, you watched him, watched his thoughts race through his mind, watched while he struggled to match them with words he had never had to speak.  “Only I understand the consequences of chaos. Only I have the capability to perfect this.”

It emptied you, his hopelessness, his resignation that the only way out of his depthless hatred was to drown it in a void of control. You knew another way--knew it was nested within the words you couldn’t say.

You sighed. “You think that will fix it?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest. “You think that will make you satisfied? More whole?”

Kylo rounded, shoulders pinned back, a predatory curve to his spine. “Were you satisfied with life before Gilead?” he asked. “The loneliness. The uncertainty.” He drew closer, trapping you in his gaze. “Falling asleep empty. Waking up in agony.” Inches from you, he clutched your shoulder, turning you toward him, brushing your hair to your back. “I know your life, little bird.” His hand pinched your chin, his tone tinged with ire. “I know it because it was mine.” 

Heat flashed through your spine. “It still is your life,” you growled, swatting his wrist and backing away, “you’re still miserable. And it’s still my life too, and it will be as long as you keep me!”

“You’re miserable,” he said, following you step for step. “You are the one who said you wanted all of me.” He was chasing you, stalking you as you retreated further into the maze, eyes rimmed gold in anguish. “And now you want to leave. Like everyone else.”

Your heart fractured. “Kylo--”

“I will end the Council if I need to.” He was black-winged in the moon’s shadow, a luminous Lucifer. “I will tear out every tongue that threatens your life if it will keep you here.”

A branch caught your sleeve, and you stumbled for only a moment, chin stiff. The threat was not hollow, but it was equally not wise. In his wrath, Kylo Ren did not believe there was a fight he could lose. In your sanity, you did not believe there was even a fight to be had.

“You can't do that. You know you can't.” A curly finger of the maze tugged you into the vines--you shrugged it off. “You know you won't be able to keep me safe forever.” There was no cease to his advance, no glimmer of cessation. “Johana is right.” The words flew from your mouth in a bid to convince him. “The Council won't stand by this. There's no such thing as divorce--”

“I don’t care.”

“--there’s no such thing as living with your Handmaid, I mean, do you expect us to get married--”

“I don’t care!”

Rapt in his gaze, you stumbled again, back flush with a wall of leaves, and Kylo consumed you, a silhouette against the sky, swallowing your sight. One hand grasped your wrist, the other pressed to your cheek, his palm smooth, your skin hot at his touch. You resisted the urge to melt into it.

“I want you,” he breathed, your name a ghost on his tongue. “I need you.” His lips trembled. “You are the only thing that makes sense.”

You were trembling too, quaking as you struggled to restrain the inevitability forming in your throat. Kylo Ren had been your Commander, the architect of your suffering. And he had been the only one in over three years to stir you, save you, see you--to care if you lived or died, to truly and genuinely desire not just your mouth, but the thoughts that came with it. 

He had found you. You didn’t want to be lost again.

“I want you, too.” You nuzzled his hand, and he led you closer. “I need you, too.”

Kylo gathered you against his body, the hand at your wrist sneaking to caress your back, his fingers carding through your hair. There was no vacancy in his eyes; they were flooded, overflowing with warmth, with worship. You felt it--the thump of that silver pulse, the genesis of a clandestine reality you wanted, with every screaming cell in your body, to speak into existence--felt its weight as an echo on his tongue. His lips parted, his focus falling over your face. 

Words would damn you. So you thrust your hands in his hair and pulled him into a kiss instead. 

He enveloped you, mouth meeting yours as if it’d been years, a tender groan cresting in his chest while his grip clung to you, seeking your flesh through cloth. Humming in bliss, you sketched over his scalp with your nails, basking when he gasped and shivered at your touch, your tongue slipping past his teeth and sliding over his own. He moaned into you, pressing you to his frame, breaking off only to kiss you again, lips touching once, twice, before his full, plush mouth massaged yours and his tongue returned. There was no fury, no primal insistence--Kylo cradled you and contained you, held you like a man who was terrified to lose you, terrified to let you go.

Soft lips skimmed yours, and he stepped between your legs, pressure digging the hedges into your back. You whimpered in shock--he stopped and snatched you to his heaving chest, seeking the origin of your pain. It almost made you laugh, this protective urge, when you still bore the bruises and bumps from the previous night. Grinning, you eased away, catching his face in your hand and forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes swam, spinning oceans, eager and alive. Your breath hitched. It left your mouth without even trying.

“I don’t want to leave you,” you said. “Leave with me.”

Kylo paused--you could almost see his mind reeling--as he stared at you. His chest fell with dejected air, and he held you closer, tighter. A strong hand returned, cupping your face again. His head offered the tiniest shake.

“It’s too late.”

Your heart fractured further. “No, it’s not.”

His hold left you, then, comfort torn like skin from your bones when he stepped back. In summer air, you froze, icy without his embrace.

“What I’ve done…” He glanced to the side, pacing away, steps taking him a slow circle while he gazed into the corners of the mini-maze. “What I’ve done cannot be undone.” Looking back to you, the knot in his throat bobbed. “Even if I wanted it.” His hands clenched, unclenched, and he approached you again. “If I leave,” he said, “it won’t be with you. I will be arrested.” The severity in his expression petrified you. “Or I will be dead.”

Perhaps, in the back of your head, you’d always known this, always known that escape was not a simple solution for a Commander, and certainly not a man like Kylo Ren. But to hear him acknowledge it too, to seal himself to his own inexorable conclusion--it decimated you.

“Oh,” you said, as it was the only sound you could make for a moment. “War crimes.”

Kylo’s head dipped in acknowledgement. “Yes.” A pause, and he turned, thoughts cast across the yard, before swiveling back to you. “To stay is the only way,” he said. “For you to be mine.” He gestured to the garden. “For this to be ours.”

You frowned. “Ours?”

His hand dove into his pocket, plucked his wallet free. Stone-faced, he flipped it open, fished into the slot and produced a folded piece of paper, presenting it to you as an answer. Cocking a brow, you pinched an edge, looking between him and the little note as you unfolded it.

One corner was swathed in smooth, swooping ink, the opposite end festering with wobbly attempts at leaved-lines. In the middle, they met, blooming into a tiny Eden--beautiful, borne from the hallowed recognition that suffocated, unspoken between your mouths.

“Kylo…” Chin quivering, you suppressed a laugh. “You think,” you said, “after all of this, what I want is,  is… to what, control this with you?”

“No.” His tone was serious. Sincere. “You want freedom. You want me.” Stepping toward you, he took your hand, dwarfing it in his own. The heat of his body choked you. “But we don't get to choose what we're owed, little bird. Destiny decides it for us.” His attention flitted to you and the drawing. “I know what roles we are meant to fulfill. This is not just mine.” His gaze bored into you, chaining you in a plea. “It’s yours.”

Kylo Ren did not want to leave. He wanted you with him. In power. In whatever capacity he decided. 

The offer was not only disappointing, it was insulting. To think you would want to stay in a land where you’d watched women hang, to remain in a nation where, without him, you could never hope to survive. No matter what route you chose, with him, you lost. There would be no agency for you in a world where you reigned standing on cadavers. And for your child--there was no purity coming home to a burial ground. 

You glanced at the drawing, mapping it to memory, imagining it in his pocket while he met with Council members, ferreted threats, worked late into the night--pictured it tucked away at his hip in the Audi, stowed somewhere safe on the Buzzard when he was with his men. And your fractured heart splintered into scarlet shards.

Meeting his eyes, you shook him free, taking the sheet in two hands. Without a blink, you shredded it in half, layered it, ripped again. You caged him in your stare, unflinching, as you turned the paper into flakes, tear by tear, and littered them across the grass. Kylo watched, carved from redwood: large and flushed and eerily still, until his gaze dropped to the ground. He was speechless--and the inevitable words burgeoned, a tangled mass in your throat again. This time, you said them.

“I hate you.” 

His eyes snapped to yours, struck black with horror--but before he could think to respond, or you could take it back, you fled, sprinting through the maze with your nightgown hiked to your knees. 

There was no sound behind you, not even the crunch of boots, and you were grateful for it, grateful as you skipped past the pond and up the stone path, as Ushar veered to the side, as you pounded the halls and up the steps to the annex. You were grateful that you hated Kylo Ren, grateful that it would not hurt when you rended him from your heart, grateful that whatever route you chose, without him, you’d win.

It was gratitude, certainly, you felt when you opened the door to your room, an empty hole and empty bed. It was gratitude, too, that flooded you when you collapsed onto the mattress with a groan, and gratitude that stung your sight, flowed past your cheeks, stained your pillowcase. Thank God, thank God you hated Kylo Ren, thank God he was so easy to hate, thank God you would not ache when you left him behind, made a home without him, or gave birth to his child. 

A tiny knock on your door. You stopped, cries arrested in your chest, as you cranked your neck to the threshold. Were it not for this timid request for permission, you would’ve ignored it in belief it was the only person you did not want to see. Clearing your throat, you straightened and hopped onto your feet, wiping your face clear--not of tears, but gratitude--while you turned the knob and cracked it open an inch.

Johana, cloaked in a frilly blue robe, stood anxious in the hall. Her face twitched with fear, her eyes stark, her mouth tight. In silence, she held out her fist, and opened her palm. 

The switchblade.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #i am so sorryyyyy

[vickyvicarious]

Oh my god. What if at one time, even very briefly, both Parker and Hardison were in the same foster home?

Pre-Nana Hardison is weird to write and I don’t know enough about their age difference/childhoods so this is rather vague on details (like for example names haha), but a certain scene popped into my head as soon as I read this ask so have a tiny fic exploring that.

(AO3)

.

As soon as he walked in the door, Alec could tell this wasn’t a good place.

It didn’t seem like it was bad, at least - not the type of bad he’d heard about from other kids, the type he knew he’d been lucky to avoid so far. But there were a lot of little signs that this wasn’t one of the good places, either. It wasn’t so much the small house, or the five other kids he saw when they took him inside. The furniture looked old and beat-up, and the TV was a dinky old monstrosity, and there really wasn’t much else to see. But none of that was what clued him in; way more important was the way Mr. Reeves smiled at him.

Alec could tell fake from real easily enough.

As soon as his social worker left, he was told to leave his stuff in the back bedroom and stay quiet, and then Mr. Reeves walked off. A moment later, a door slammed down the hall. It wasn’t anything scary, but the cold disinterest was its own sort of stinging. He didn’t much mind though, or he told himself he didn’t anyway, because it wasn’t like he was staying here long. He was supposed to be staying with a Mrs. Hardison but apparently she’d gotten sick and wouldn’t be able to take him in for another week. He didn’t know what he was going to be in for with her either, but for the moment not having to stay here any longer than a week was plenty good enough.

Once Mr. Reeves was gone, the other kids livened up a bit. Alec didn’t go put his stuff away, instead flopping down on the floor near the crowded couch and making friends. He might only be here for a week, but that was no reason he had to be lonely.

.

Elijah was the one to tell him about the ghost.

Everyone was normal amounts of friendly, for foster kids. Meaning a pretty even mix of cheerful and reclusive, one very tall boy wearing a lot of black, a couple little kids too young to make good conversation, one older girl who sat crosslegged in the corner of the room and didn’t say a single word the entire afternoon. Elijah was cool though, and so were Alex and Sanjay, so Alec mostly hung out with them. They watched cartoons and after a while Alex pulled a pack of cards out of her jacket pocket and led them to the bedroom so they could play Go Fish in peace. It was actually a pretty big room, but most of the space was taken up with bunkbeds so it still felt crowded. Sanjay showed Alec where he’d be (the bottom bunk near the door, because of course all the better beds were taken) and if he were staying any longer than a week, he might’ve tried to trade with one of them. He could have made it a bet. In his experience, all kids liked betting on games, and also in his experience, Alec could win any bet that relied on cards since he could keep track of who had what in his head pretty easily.

He was glad he didn’t try, anyway, because Elijah was the one whose bed he would have gone after, since it was a top by the window, and Elijah was the one who liked him enough after beating him three times to tell him about the ghost in the house.

Weird things had started happening a while ago, he explained. At first no one thought anything of it, because there were a lot of people coming in and out who could have been moving stuff around, but then Mr. Reeves came storming in one day yelling about someone taking his watch. The one he wore all the time and never took off, not even when he showered probably. He made everyone go through all their stuff, and pretty much everyone found things missing - but they were all in with someone else’s belongings. It would have turned into a huge argument except by the time everyone found they had someone else’s stuff they were all too confused to be angry for long. Also, Mr. Reeves’ watch didn’t turn up, and he’d yelled for hours about it, which kind of distracted everyone.

Except that right after he finally gave up and left the room, he came rushing back asking who put it back on his dresser. It was obviously impossible, because everyone had been in the room the whole time getting yelled at. A rumor started about the ghost that night, after everyone had been sent to bed without dinner because no one had fessed up. And at first, Elijah said, he hadn’t believed in it either (he must’ve caught Alec’s snort), but then stuff like that just kept happening. People lost stuff, even if they carried them around everywhere, only for them to turn up in weird places days later, like on top of the ceiling fan or inside the cereal box instead of all the cereal, or stuffed inside someone else’s shoes. Some of the stuff that went missing never came back. But most of that stuff belonged to Mr. Reeves, so the kids didn’t usually mind too much.

“Don’t worry about hanging onto whatever you want to keep,” Elijah said, finally. “It doesn’t matter, the ghost will take it right out of your hand if it wants to. My advice is just to ask it to give it back. It listens, sometimes, if you’re nice about it.”

Alec tried really really hard not to roll his eyes, because even if he was only going to be here a week that was no reason to be lonely. Elijah didn’t seem to notice.

.

Alec was pretty good at sleeping, as long as he remembered to try. He didn’t have any trouble falling asleep in a brightly-lit room, or with lots of noise, or even a bedtime that changed every other day. As long as someone made sure he wasn’t in front of a computer or a book or painting or trying to build a crossbow out of sticks or whatever else caught his attention that day, he could fall asleep in two minutes flat once he decided to.

So he didn’t actually need a better bed, and he wasn’t bothered by the couple of times other kids had to slip past him in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Someone crying into their pillow across the room didn’t phase him, not any more than hearing someone cry always did. He knew better than to go help, especially because he was pretty sure it was the tall boy wearing all black, and older kids usually hated younger kids showing them up at anything.

The first night he stayed with Mr. Reeves passed uneventfully. So did the second, third, fourth, and fifth.

.

Since it was summer, there wasn’t really much to do other than sit around the house. Mr. Reeves made the older kids help out with chores, but he didn’t really bother the younger ones and Alec was small for his age so he got off easy with just babysitting the really little kids. There was a yard, but it was mostly just dirt with a few weeds, and they weren’t supposed to wander off into the neighborhood. Alec saw all the older kids leave anyway at least three times apiece, but it wasn’t really any of his business so he didn’t worry about it. Besides, one thing Mr. Reeves did have was an old bookshelf with some battered paperbacks, three of which were actually Star Trek books Alec had never read before. He tried to make them last, because without school to go to or a library nearby he didn’t have access to any computers and the TV really did suck. It didn’t work too well though, he still finished all of them two days into his stay, and then he didn’t have anything else to do but just hang out with the others. It had been a good idea, making friends.

Alex taught him some new card games he’d never played, up until Wednesday when her pack of cards went missing. She’d just shuffled it up and put the rubber band back around it, tucking it into her pocket, when Alec spotted a Jack that had fallen to the floor. She went to get the pack back out of her pocket, but it wasn’t there anymore. Alec had been right there the whole time and he hadn’t seen or heard anything.

It was stupid, ghosts weren’t real.

(He checked through all his stuff that afternoon, just in case. Nothing was missing. Of course it wasn’t, ghosts weren’t real.)

.

Mr. Reeves was never around, except in the mornings when he gave everyone their chore lists. He didn’t even spend much time in the house at all, but when he did he was mostly back in his room or watching the news on his really just unfortunate TV. Whenever that happened, the other kids cleared out and left him alone, without really making a point of it or anything. They just found other stuff to do - even if it was in the same room, like on Thursday when it was raining really hard. No one tried to sit on the couch with him and they all got really quiet. Alec noticed that everyone seemed to follow his rules really well whenever he was around, even though when he wasn’t there they pretty much did whatever they wanted. He didn’t seem to notice or care as long as stuff like the laundry and dishes got done, and nobody got hurt. Alec hadn’t had a single conversation with him all week.

Not one of the bad ones.

But not good.

.

On Alec’s penultimate day in the house, something of his finally went missing. It was a notebook he’d carried around since the start of last school year, when his then foster-part Keller gave it to him for taking notes in class. Alec didn’t really ever bother doing that because he usually could figure out whatever the lesson was and remember it later without writing anything down, but he did like to draw in it. He’d started trying to write code in there too, but honestly he didn’t like trying to write down what he was thinking because his hand could never keep up with his brain. He was much faster at typing, even if he only really got to on school computers. Mostly, Alec just liked to draw stuff.

It wasn’t like the notebook really mattered. Alec didn’t have a lot of stuff, but most of what he did have didn’t matter too much. He’d like it to matter, he’d like that a lot, but the simple fact was he didn’t have anything he really cared about, not that couldn’t be replaced if he really needed. A new book would still have the same words, he didn’t even really like any of the clothes he had except his glow-in-the-dark Darth Vader shirt and even that was starting not to glow anymore. The notebook probably came closest to something really special.

Alec thought about getting mad. He really did, he really almost came very close to blowing his top. But he’d been in not-so-good houses before. He’d spent hours walking around the neighborhood, smiling at people who half the time slammed the door in his face, trying to sell them on a religion he didn’t even feel very strongly about. He’d tried getting mad before and it just never really worked. And he didn’t have time here to try something that didn’t work, even if he really really really wanted to.

Instead, Alec asked the other kids about his notebook. None of them had seen it anywhere, or at least none of them admitted to seeing it. Some of them didn’t even bother to answer, or he didn’t bother to ask them. The toddlers weren’t exactly going to be much help.

Next, Alec searched the house for his notebook. He looked under everything, behind everything, he even went to Mr. Reeves’ room and asked him very politely if he’d seen it, hovering on the threshold and looking around everywhere. He didn’t see anything and Mr. Reeves just told him no and to leave him alone. He sounded so final and Alec was only here one more day, and so far nothing had happened to explain why all the other kids stayed very quiet whenever Mr. Reeves was in the room. He didn’t need to find out if there was a reason.

He didn’t need the notebook, anyway, and he could leave without it if he had to but he didn’t want to. He wanted it back. He wanted it almost enough to believe in ghosts, if that was something that would work, and after dinner he went to the bathroom and spoke to the ghost while he was washing his hands so no one else would hear.

“That’s mine and I want it back please,” Alec told the ghost, feeling very silly. “You’re a jerk if you don’t give it back before I leave.”

.

He didn’t go to sleep that night, because ghosts weren’t real and even if they were it wasn’t like he was gonna put his trust in a thief to fix things. Alec still got into bed, still lay down and breathed quietly and even closed his eyes when Mr. Reeves stuck his head in to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, but he didn’t sleep.

Instead, he waited for everyone else to fall asleep, so he could use the flashlight he’d taken from the garage to look through all their things until he got his notebook back. Only Elijah and Sanjay had been willing to let him root through their stuff during the day. Mostly everyone ignored him, blaming it all on the ghost.

Alec waited until he couldn’t hear anyone else making any noise, then a few more minutes to be sure they were all asleep, then counted to three hundred just in case, before finally sitting up. He turned to face the rest of the beds, pulling the flashlight out from under his pillow but not turning it on yet.

And then he saw the ghost, floating above Elijah’s bed. Alec froze up, only a quick gasp making its way through his lips. He felt terrified for just a moment, scared for his life because he wasn’t going to bet on the ghost staying friendly when someone caught it. And also it looked like it might be trying to eat Elijah’s soul, or something.

But then the ghost lifted its head, just enough for the moonlight coming in through the window to shine on its face, to make the long silvery strands of spiderweb hair catch enough light that they looked blonde again. The shadows around its skull no longer looked faceless.

In fact, it was grinning at him. It held a single pale finger up over its lips.

Alec blinked rapidly, watching as the ghost moved over Elijah’s bed like a spider, only touching the frame. It crouched on its tiptoes, fiddling with the window - the locked window that no one could get open, so it got insanely hot in here during the day and no one spent much time here if they could help it - and a moment later swung it open silently.

The ghost-girl, she was a girl with pale skin and long hair silvery in the moonlight, slipped through the window feet first, reaching out and up and either catching on something or just floating in midair, before she let go of the windowsill and swung backwards into the night. In the last moment before she let go and fell head-first down to the ground, she smiled at him again and twiddled her fingers in a silent wave.

Alec’s heart thumped hard when she vanished out of sight. He listened but he didn’t hear anything hit the ground. His fingers were trembling, he felt like something might grab his ankles from under the bed.

When he flicked on the flashlight, carefully covering all but a slit of the beam with his fingers, it turned out there was no need to search: his notebook was sitting on the floor right in front of him, looking perfectly innocent. He snatched it up, then hid under his covers with the light to check that none of the pages were missing, that everything was the way he’d left it.

It all was - except on the last page, where there were several sketches of cars. A couple from the outside, the rest from what looked like what you’d see from inside the driver’s seat. They were really good, probably better than Alec’s art. They were also weird, little lines marked at the driver’s side window, several spots on the inside of the dashboard, one drawing just a tangle of wires. It didn’t make any sense at all, but it was back and that was good enough.

He’d be leaving tomorrow morning, he didn’t need to know any more (even if he really really wanted to, now).

.

In the morning, Alec snuck the flashlight back into the garage before Mr. Reeves got up. He shrugged when Elijah caught him carrying his notebook around and laughingly asked him if he’d asked the ghost to give it back. He wanted to tell his friend about actually seeing the ghost, but something stopped him. He wasn’t sure what, exactly. It wasn’t like he had any reason to be scared of her, since he was leaving and he was pretty sure ghosts couldn’t leave where they were haunting. But still. Something about the memory of her shadowed grin, her finger telling him to hush… it wasn’t scary really, but he didn’t want to ignore her.

Mr. Reeves clapped a hand on his shoulder when his social worker came to pick Alec up. He laughed with her, told her Alec’d been no trouble at all and they’d had a great time together. He shook her hand and helped Alec carry his stuff out to the car. He told him “take care, son,” and smiled down at him and shut the car door for him once he was inside the backseat.

Behind him, a couple of the other kids stood in the yard or the doorway. Alex and Sanjay were waving; Elijah had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Benny and Miles, the little kids, waved for a second before getting distracted by something on the ground.

And standing in the doorway was an older girl with long blond hair and pale skin, her mouth set in a neutral line. The girl who barely spoke to anyone, who spent most of her time this past week working on cleaning out the gutters together with the oldest boy John, and then just vanishing all afternoon. Her eyebrows furrowed a little as she watched the car start to take him away, and Alec suddenly felt a crazy impulse to wave at her over any of his friends.

He twiddled his fingers at her, grinning.

The car was pulling away, starting to speed up down the street, but Alec still saw her. Saw the ghost-girl blink, then smile, just a quick flash before he passed her completely.

#leverage #leverage fic #my fic #parker #alec hardison #replies #anonymous #my first thought was actually the parker getting buried scene and little hardison's reaction #but then this popped into my head and actually came out as words so here ya go #Anonymous

[peaches-of-1]

Peachtober | Day 24: Forever

University Student / Vampire!Reader x Teacher / Priest!Namjoon

Warnings: Blaphemy kink, sex in a classroom, sex in a church, questioning faith, biting, blood play, Vampirism, angst, smut, multiple partners, voyerism, no condom (all gifts are better wrapped), male masturbation, stepping on genitalia, wet dreams, death mention (let me know if I should add others)

Citrus Scale: Buddha’s Hand

When one's will is stripped away, oftentimes the outcome will be rebellion. A direct or passive fight against their oppressor(s) in one way or another in order to regain their sense of freedom. In this specific case, it was the denial of a dream college to follow their parent's ideal of being a servant of their Lord that one was not exactly loyal to. More like questioning instead of lack of belief. However complicated one's relationship with His Holiness may have been, the rebellion of not being able to go to the school of their choice led to late parties with non stop drinking and laughter that sometimes turned into tears. Such parties and celebrations of indulgence were against the rules, of course.

As it was a Friday, one snuck out of a white marble dormitory in clothing fit for Mary Magdalene as it was skimpy and sheer and perfectly fit for a party bound Harlot. All of this under a casual black coat due to recent rain and to get under the radar of any of the nuns and priests who asked where a young being was going so late. If spoken response was needed, the reply would be something forgotten in the library or a quick prayer session in the on campus cathedral which was always open for troubled minds.

Yet the escape went smoothly. Coats were taken at the door and libations were spread all around in joyous celebration of the weekend. A sense of concern had washed over the shy companion one had decided to come out with.

“More for me then.” was the intoxicated response as another red solo cup of mystery spirits was downed.

As the night went on, the shy one wandered off, no longer in the mood for loud music and drunken partiers bumping into them. Out onto the back porch where something rather large hid behind a tree.

“Hello?” they called out into the night. “It's ok. I won't hurt you. I just needed some fresh air. Inside just smells like vape juice.”

A hand touched the side of the bannister and felt something wet and sticky. In the amber lighting, it was a reddish color.

“Are you bleeding?”

No response and so the compassionate stranger approached too happy to have a quiet place and someone to talk to. Their scream at the realization that what they had stumbled upon was not human and it was not their blood that came from its body was not heard over the loud pop music inside.

Although the original partier as well as the whole campus was being told to stay in dorms and on campus even more than normal, they were not told the reason why. But they knew. One had seen the corpse of their quiet and reserved friend in the back yard when the bathroom was full and they needed to piss and ran back inside to call for help. Police were called soon after. People gave their condolences not just for their lost friend and fellow student, but more for the punishment those in attendance would be receiving.

That punishment being cleaning the cafeteria at the end of the day for the rest of the year. As this was the first day of doing so in this righteous university based on religion, morale was low. Several students were dressed in the school uniform of navy plaid bottoms, white socks, black shoes (with black laces), a button up dress shirt with a collar, and a navy blue Thom Browne blazer which had been approved through one of the CEO’s children going to the school but hating the previous uniforms. They all moaned and groaned at the prospect of actually having to work for forgiveness.

“You should have thought about that before you snuck out to a dangerous party.” Father Namjoon said. “You will stay here until the place is spotless. I will be back within an hour to check on you. I have confessions from the Faithful to listen to.”

And so the young man who was constantly praised for this love of his God and the passion of his sermons went to the booth and waited to listen in on the sins and guilt the Lord's followers had been holding in. Most were the usual things, they had lied or said something wrong. They lusted over the unattainable or felt as though they weren't faithful enough. Some just had burdens too heavy to deal with alone and so Namjoon would pray with them.

That is until the unmistakable sound of Y/N's voice came in and shook the young man's own piety. She had teased him ever since she arrived only a few months ago, but he never gave into her antics. However, they still stayed in his mind so much that he prayed for her. Because of silence on that front, he knew she was just a person in his path to test his faith. Namjoon would never admit that she was doing a rather splendid job at doing so.

“Sorry, Daddy, I've been a bad girl.” Her saccharine voice said.

“Now you know that is not how we do this, Y/N.” Father Namjoon replied.

She giggled, “Yet I know you are listening to me more closely than anyone who has ever said such things properly, aren't you, Father Joonie?”

Every word that came from her mouth taunted the young man and pulled at the Father's heart and other parts inside of him. He stammered out that he needed to get back to his other duties and this needed to be quick.

“I do have a real concern.” The young lady spoke with an irresistible pout in her voice. “It would be irresponsible for you to ignore it, Father~”

“Speak your heart's worry to me, my Child.” Namjoon sighed.

The woman spoke of wanting to claim not only the heart, but also the mind, body, and soul of a man. She claimed to have done this before but not in a very long time and it had never been so difficult for her to approach him in a one on one situation.

“It is not within the right of man to claim another as his property.” Father Namjoon replied with such conviction it surprised him and the woman on the other side of the wooden partition, his body turned to face her.

His hand set on the space in the partition and her hand set on top of it.

Y/N smiled, “What if I am not a man? Nor am I human.”

Brown eyes met ones as bright as rubies. In the darkness of the confessional, the coloring was clear as day. Namjoon felt his hand move but was not sure if he wanted to stop it until his own flesh touched the soft fabric covering her own skin... which body part was this? A quick squeeze and he jerked back his hand. It had been her breast he had grabbed and so he bolted from the booth due to the shock of the action. He felt the need to hide away from everything she was. God knew he had not meant to touch her body like that. It was what she had wanted but the feeling wasn't mutual. Namjoon had taken to a tree in the middle of the courtyard to catch his breath.

“Good afternoon, Father Namjoon. Are you alright?” Father Yoongi asked.

His long time friend and Namjoon's adopted sister who had followed his God given plan into becoming a nun. Both were dressed in their own black and white robes with looks of concern upon their faces for the man they cared so much about. He gave the two a smile and laughed.

“I... I am fine. I simply got frightened by a bee that got too close for comfort.” He would ask the Lord's forgiveness later for lying to his dear friends.

His sister laughed, “They must have mistaken your aura for a physical flower.”

Yoongi chuckled and then asked, “Would you like to join us in getting some craft supplies from in town? We could always use an extra pair of hands.”

“Perhaps another time, Father Yoongi. I have been given the duty to watch over those who attended that party, their punishment that is.” He pushed his hair back. “I was just on my way to check in on their progress.”

“Best of luck to you, dear brother.” Said the little sister.

After polite bows and words of farewell, Namjoon finished the evening quite quickly after the cafeteria was cleaned and decided to work on his sermon for the week.

~~~~

There had not been another incident for a few days. Nothing as big, that is. Instead it was Namjoon's own mind that he was fighting against for the past evenings. He knew she would be back today after the sermon. The man with hair like honey was sure of it, like a well kept promise. He'd keep himself under control and not get caught up in her teasing, he would do his best not to take her bait. Wanting to claim a man for herself. All of him.

He almost wanted her to come back so he could learn more.

And so she did. Within the grated separation, crimson eyes glowed. She smiled, her giggle sounding more like a threat than actual joy.

“So, Father. It seems you have been expecting me.” Y/N announced as the door creaked shut and she sat on the aged red cushion where thousands of students and guests had sat before for years on end.

“Of course,” the blonde man swallowed deeply and ignored the cotton on his tongue in order to speak correctly. “You are a student at this university and so--”

A cute laugh that sounded like the sweetest doom poured from her lips, “Don't play dumb with me, Joonie~ I see how you force yourself not to look at me in class. Why don't you?”

Namjoon replied honestly--as he always did, “You don't wear your uniform properly. It's immodest.”

“But I keep that part unbuttoned just for you. No one else, I swear.” Y/N spoke what appeared upon first listen to be candied false promises.

He scoffed quietly, “Forgive me for not believing that coming from someone like you.”

She pouted, “You should. I don't want anyone else but you, and I intend to make you mine sooner than later.”

“You should repent your lustful and commandeering ways and try to walk in the Lord's light. It is not too late for someone so young like you.” Candid were the words which came from the man who promised himself to the Most High

“But you have the choice to be in MY light, Father. Make the right one before it is no longer a choice you can make.” Her tone alone put the sin in sincere.

“What are you?” Namjoon asked quietly, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Y/N made a sighing hum, “Me and my kind have been called many things and depicted millions of times in your media in half as many years. However, I think the common term is Vampire.”

Namjoon gasped and his blood went cold as he knew this was the only truth. That it would explain her eyes and her enchanting ways. Why the men of the school followed her and adored her in the most carnal of ways and fooled themselves thinking it was pure intentions they had with her. Wasn’t that how they were? He saw it in their eyes. Yoongi would sometimes smack them in the back of their heads when he read the thoughts that dripped from their hungering eyes such as the drool from their gaping mouths.

“V-V-Vam-Vam-” The priest stuttered out. The word gripped him like an iron maiden.

Her teeth glinted in the little bit of amber that snuck through the cracks of the ancient confessional, “Yes. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned for nearly a thousand years. Lately I’ve been biting into some of the more beautiful of the young men that come here and women too. Even those who would rather not subscribe to gender no matter how much it is forced upon them. I am not picky. Blood is blood though it does taste better when I see those beautiful faces become twisted in horror and their eyes roll back when I finally sink my teeth into their alluring necks and wrists. The school uniforms to very well at hiding the scars until they heal.”

Y/N’s voice was tinted with true revelry in those moments that must have been the terrors for others. She had in fact created a harem of students to do her bidding in the sunlight where she could not go, right?

“The sunlight,” Namjoon asked. “How do you?”

“Do you really think vampires can live for millenia and not find some way to thrive even in sunlight?” She laughed. “We have many scientists in our ranks who have created ways of surviving in the sun. That along with natural evolution.”

A knock. Time’s up. Apologies exchanged after hushed guarantees to visit later. Y/N had promised to claim him. He could either submit to her by choice or by force. Was there not some way to defeat her?

Namjoon tried his best to continue to perform his daily duties as a priest, as one of the most looked up to men in this lifestyle. Vampires were demons! He could not let himself succumb to her and her unbuttoned top and her plump thighs in her too short skirt. It had been required for girls to wear shorts underneath, but she never did. Instead she bent over and displayed herself for anyone with the pleasure to pass by.

A pleasure? No. It was wrong. Sinful. Gaudy. Women needed to respect themselves and hide their precious bits for someone special. Their husband. Though Namjoon believed women were allowed to do what they wanted with their own bodies, there was a time and a place for everything. The school hallways during the changing of classes were not appropriate options for either. No one else had ever called her out on it, so neither did he.

There had been a few like that. Skipped through classes with no regards for the rules and omitted their pants, but that was the cause of money. The wealthy child of a wealthy benefactor. A single feigned outcry of unfair treatment could cause for their abundant donations towards the school to be pulled. So many sinners in a house of God, but Namjoon knew that was the way it was supposed to be. He knew they wouldn’t be like this forever. They’d see the light of his Lord and see the fault in their ways. Some had in the few months he had been there.

They had become good little cherry blossoms. Had decided to become part of the flock of sheep that took God’s Word to heart. Some mere liars. Goats hiding their horns. However Y/N had been the lion among the lambs, making peace and friends and yet simply bringing them elsewhere to be devoured. All of this occurring away from the eyes of the herders. Right behind them, but they refused to turn and look because they were blinded or simply ignorant by choice.

Had this been her first slip up? Eating the young woman from the party? The DNA found on the body had belonged to a woman thought to be dead for over a hundred years. In the short week after the celebration gone wrong, the case had been thrown out due to evidence tampering. However, it all made sense with one of the few truthful confessions the taunting young woman ever told. The DNA found did in fact belong to a being over the age of 100. It belonged to Y/N, not as if anyone would believe the man no matter how faithful and honest he was.

With heavy feat and a foggy head, Father Namjoon began to disrobe and pray before troubled slumber claimed his night. All he could dream about was Y/N. Belonging to her and giving into desires he had cast aside in the name of following the Lord. Tasting her sweet nectar below, making her hips roll in an attempt for him to go in deeper to her sweet and tangy tasting core. Eyes opened in fright but the second attempt at a G rated dream was even more pornographic. She was feeding on him and he shuddered in joy.

Her eyes like two glowing cherries.

Would a vampire’s bite be so calming? So intoxicating? With Y/N, it could be. He knew that for sure as if the words were spoken to him in a prayer of promise. From his own heart. Yet being fed from above was not enough for her. She also wanted her sacred garden to be plowed and seeded by him.

“Begone, Daemon!” The tall man said into the empty and simplistic room.

His own. Not the den where she had...that he had dreamt. The black iron framing of the bed contrasting the white quilt placed upon it for the colder nights and the equally white walls. Light seeped through the thin linen curtains and showed the specs of dirt dancing in the morning rays of pure and comforting light. Namjoon quickly went to his knees and prayed for the fear to go away. To purify and forgive him for his impure thoughts of a student he was supposed to help guide.

“Heavenly Father, please forgive me. I do not know what has gotten into me, but I promise I will not stray from your path, Dear Lord. You are my light. You are my Savior. I refuse to let the lustful thoughts of that young woman lead me astray. I ask for your guidance now more than ever, God. Oh, God.” He wept. “Please help me.”

When one sacrifices himself for his Lord, when one gives himself to his faith completely, it tends to twist their outlook. It gives someone confidence they did not have before because they feel they have backup. That they are not alone. That is what Namjoon felt as he walked into the class to teach his class for the day. He had truly believed in this morning’s “Amen.”

As a man trained in philosophy until it left him with more questions than answers, he brought that into teaching his class of young adults about God’s word. His promises. He taught about His protection today. With renewed strength, he slammed his ruler on a giggling girl’s desk and asked her to read her texts allowed. Nothing but lustful tones filled the abbreviated letters and messages to someone in a different class.

Y/N spoke up, “As if you are one to judge, Father Joonie. I would not doubt if you had dreams of exploring a woman’s ‘Garden of Eden’ from time to time. Tasting the honey that drips from her at the mere sight of your own sun kissed face.”

A ball of guilt and craving entered the man’s stomach and he hesitated to look at the young woman he now knew was a vampirinc daemon. He feared all weaknesses would be clear in front of her. But he had his Lord and Jesus Christ and even the Holy Spirit on his side. Standing up straight, the young Father smoothed his black robes and met her eyes now their imitation of human coloring instead of the demonic garnet shade he was familiar with.

“I am not one to judge on anything. That is a job reserved only for our Lord Jesus Christ. I simply am stating that her mind should be on the lesson and not matters of the flesh.” Namjoon spoke with a straight spine. “As for your guess as to what I do in my own privacy, in my own head, that is not for you to know.”

“Then I am right.” She said with a knowing attitude and a sharp glare.

Brown eyes defied his inner doubt and said, “You have every right to think so and you also have every right to button up your blouse.”

A false pout sat upon her plump lips, “Even Jesus hung out with harlots.” and folded her arms which made her chest seem even more voluptuous than before, creating stronger cleavage to be seen through her opened dress shirt and blazer.

“I am not Jesus, but I am in charge here. So please conduct yourself properly.” Namjoon said.

“Feeling brave today, aren’t we, Father Joonie?” Y/N said before deciding to follow the rules. . . in her own way. “Taehyung-ssi~, will you button up my shirt for me? I’ve hurt my thumb this morning.”

The beautiful young man with skin like caramel stammered and eventually nodded and blushed as he ghosted his hands above her chest, having to look directly at it to do what he was commanded to do. He even bit his lip. As the moment stretched out, she smiled and looked at his face. His heartbeat had to have been loud. Namjoon’s heart was beating louder and was biting his lip even harder. Why? He should’ve said something when she made the request in the first place.

Instead jealousy made the strong jaw tense as both hands gripped firmly on the podium in front of him.

“That’s--” Father Namjoon began, starting to get fed up with how long this was taking.

“Done. Is that fine, Y/N?” The younger man asked, forcing himself to look into her eyes and his cheeks became scarlet.

She gave a smile, “Yes. Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

Both students sat in their seat and the lesson continued as the sun was high in the sky, beating down on all of the rich campus. The sun that gave all of the world life and light began to sink soon after the final lesson and Namjoon decided to finish grading the last test at home. As he passed by what was supposed to be an empty hallway since it was nearing dusk, he instead heard labored breathing and primal grunts alonged with muffled moans.

“Be quiet, or someone is going to hear you.”

Was someone in trouble? Had someone given into their lustful urges and gone after an innocent student?

The sunkissed man with a heart of gold and duty towards bettering humanity sped towards the source of the sound. Moans and grunts got louder as the concerned teacher traveled empty halls to find who would be visiting the Headmaster and getting extra sessions in the confessional.

It was not any sound of pain, but pure erotic rapture taking place on the sturdy tables attatched to the floor. Pure whites and blues being tarnished by the sweat and friction it takes for at least two bodies to engage in intercourse. The bodies belonging to those who engaged in what turned out to be subtle foreplay of buttoning a simple blouse in front of a class of 13 other students and a fuming teacher. Who else better to approach the scene of discarded navy blue blazers now?

“Oh, I do love your blood the most, Taehyung-ssi. I would take more, but I wouldn’t want your cock to suffer any loss since I find that just as delicious if not more.” purred a familiar voice. “Yes! Oh yes! You are such a good pet, TaeTae.”

Deep growls responded, “Take as much as you want, Mistress. I’ll produce more blood. Ah! Ah, I want to serve you, Mistress.”

She moaned at his repeated penetrations, “You serve me so well, my pet. I assure you. Mmmm, right there. The most--oh--sought after boy on this incredibly dull campus approaching me my first day here, mmmpph and not backing down even after you found out what I was.”

“I just wanted to be yours, Mistress. I didn’t care how. Feed on me more, my beloved Mistress. Please.” Taehyung’s labored voice begged.

“You’re close, aren’t you, my pet?”

A desperate voice answered, “Mmmm, gya. Yes, Mistress.”

Y/N’s unforgettable laugh, “Ok, one more bite.”

Namjoon watched through the cracked doorway, unable to tear himself from the sounds of such passionate and primal coitus in an empty classroom. He remembered the time in high school when his heart led him to do the same with his crush, but it became the reason why he was sent here in the first place. It had been seen as too dirty and sinful when the love they had was as pure as freshly fallen snow.

Now, to see the one he said would claim him instead claim another, it...it hurt. It clouded his once confident mind with doubt and complex feelings. Had she lied to him? Was he really something so special when she had claim to half if not all of the student body at this point? Did such a pain that shot through his chest even deserve the name of heartache?

The sight of her removing the white dress shirt from Taehyung’s shoulder and sinking her glistening fangs into the area made something shift inside Father Namjoon. A brief wish to be in the young man’s position instead of standing stunned in fading sunlight flitted through his mind as he stared, mouth agape and stomach being filled with the most sensual of sins in the highest concentration. Such an act was being performed right in front of his snout which rested a pair of glasses.

As if fate wanted to make sure he saw every moment, every thrust, every bead of sweat as clear as possible.

Eyes like Hellfire looked directly at the frightened but enticed priest, assuring him that she had known he was there the entire time. The smile telling him not to look away even as the black framed lenses landed on the floor.

“Mistress! I feel so dizzy~” Taehyung whined. “Can I--?”

“Go ahead, pet.” She responded.

With blue plaid bunched around ankles, the student thrusted deeply into his Mistress with a broken moan. He begged for Y/N’s kisses and she gave them to him for being so good for her. As the affectionate action was done, a troubled pious man ran away. Out of sight, out of mind, right? That was his goal.

“Mistress, who was that?” the pet asked, breathing heavy and mind full of fog in part due to blood loss.

Y/N caressed his head and felt his creamy offering inside of her, “No one, my dear. Rest now. I’ll get you a nice comfy place to rest. Don’t you worry.”

With the door shut firmly behind himself, the call of concerned friends asked the reason for his quick pace and strained face. He assured them that it had just been a long day and he had just been in need of rest and it would be best if he were left alone for the time being.

“I just need to pray.” the young man with hair like a sandy beach promised himself.

But there was something that needed to be dealt with before he uttered a word up to the Heavens to hear. The growing problem in his pants making them even tighter, now pressing up against the zipper. It...it had to be handled now. This was the first time Namjoon had been on his knees not to pray, but to instead relieve the lust that created a fire in his groin. A fire as bright as Y/N’s ruby eyes. Unbuttoning pants and moving down black fabric and white underwear to free his thick and throbbing phallus. More upstanding than he was perceived by everyone on the other side of the door.

He just had to make it quick, and so the horny representative of the Heavenly Father began the task of sliding his hand back and forth along already moisturized skin. Friction was decreased due to his own precum leaking onto the rest of his cock. Biting the hem of his robes to keep quiet and keeping it out of the way, the man imagined himself in the place of his student, serving his Mistress in the most carnal of ways. He thought of her flame filled eyes looking at nothing but him.

Mistress. Mistress. Please don’t let anyone else serve you but me, Mistress. I’ll do anything. Please! He tried to stay true to the live script but instead let his own desires come forth. You were right. I do think that way. I haven’t thought about any of this stuff in a long time, not until you revealed what you were. Please!

He imagined Y/N’s hands scraping down the front of his chest and landing on his aching cock which she soon took over and began stroking with fervor. She teased him for being so desperate and laughed at him for making things so hard on himself when he could have just given in. Namjoon could just deliver himself unto his urges and into her and then maybe he’d be rewarded with actually getting to cum inside of her. Father Namjoon just wanted to let his snake explore her bush for the rest of his Earthly years..

The constricting heat of it. Her voice calling him precious names and soon enough his own voice was begging just like Taehyung’s had been. The small bit of sense left in the priest’s mind caused him to bite on his own arm as his white seed fell onto the barren land of a carpet a few shades darker due to it being traveled by many feet, making his sin even brighter and apparent.

Guilt soon constricted his heart and hot tears of regret burned and flowed down his cheeks. This was no way to live! He could not serve two Masters! He had to choose and Namjoon was sure his body had already decided against all reason, all logic, all sincerity to his life and love of serving his Savior God.

The next day in class, it was difficult to look at the one he had imagined pumping his cock for less than 24 hours ago on his bedroom floor. She noticed very early on in the teachings and had been torturing him thought the entire lesson, spreading her legs too wide while in her seat and even while in groups, she made sure her back was towards Father Namjoon and bent over the desk to reveal the scandalously thin and lacy thong she had decided to wear.

Blood rushed to all extremities of the teacher with a war inside of him. Which to follow, his Master or a new one that would rather be called Mistress? One was certainly real in a physical plane as well as mental. He no longer hesitated to believe in her power, though his troubled thoughts were stilled by a hand tapping his arm.

Father Namjoon jumped out of his skin, making the others laugh for a moment.

He then turned to the face of a young woman known as Lisa, “Father Namjoon, the timer? It’s been going on for a while.”

The beeping of his phone was silenced and then he had the groups go through and speak about the Biblical topic they had chosen. Research had been done as a group, but only two would present to class until the bell rang. Once the charming ring of wind chimes sounded, the students were released to their next class. The honey haired priest then cleaned up the room before his next class came for his teachings.

There was a folded note with his name on it in the seat in which Y/N every day as things were organized by surname. Namjoon’s heart jumped in excitement and anxiety at what the letter contained. It was a time and a place. A smile broke out on the teacher’s face so bright and broad that he had to cover it with his hand.

Next class came in. The same lesson was taught. The sun went down slower than usual.

Soyeon raised her hand, “Father Namjoon, why do you keep looking at the time? Are you looking forward to something?”

“Nothing in particular. I just hear that it will be a full moon tonight, so I am excited to see it once it’s up.” The man gave a polite smile as the timer went off.

Once the silver moon was high in the star speckled sky, Namjoon travelled to the location which was written on Y/N’s note. It was the old church that had been abandoned years ago after a great fire years before Namjoon ever showed up to this university. With only memory and a flashlight to guide him, the priest was clad only in a pair of black jeans with a white button up shirt tucked into them. The sleeves were rolled up to right below the elbow since he no longer felt wholly right in wearing his robes.

He opened the charred wooden doors with a groaning creek. Invisible small animals ran among scattered leaves.

“Hello, Y/N?” Namjoon called out. “A-are you--Are you here?” His voice reverberated upon the walls of the dilapidated cathedral.

No reply. He was stupid, and for what? Where had all of his rational thinking gone? The priest should have stayed with his God and his books. This may have been the day he died. It was just his imagination, all of this. The 100 year old DNA was just evidence that had been tampered with. She wasn’t a vampire. They didn’t even exist!

“Now now, don’t say that.” Y/N’s voice echoed. “I was just putting on the final touches, Father Joonie~”

Namjoon’s gaze fell upon the beautiful woman’s form, the vampire who had awoken years of suppressed lust inside of him. The one he wanted to serve more than almost anything.

Her shape was covered in a tight rose colored dress which left little to the imagination as it had no sleeves and only straps to hold up a beautiful bosom that glittered in the moonlight due to the chains that dangled from a black lace choker with a ruby as red as her eyes in the middle. Her fingers were adorned with black rings and she was holding red wine in a crystal glass. Her red and gold studded heels clacked on the aged dark wooden floor. As she tucked her hair behind her ear, the earrings she always wore winked in the moonlight along with a rosy bracelet.

“How do I look?” She asked, spreading her arms revealing lace underneath her breasts allowing her skin to peak through.

The man choked on his own words and was unable to reply. She had really arrived at the meeting spot for him. Of course, she was the one who set this all up in order for her to claim the man.

She smirked, the tip of blade like fangs flashed, “Thank you. I must say that you look quite delicious as well. I do quite despise those robes for doing such a good job at hiding such delectable and supple shapes like yours.”

“Y/N,” The man spoke softly. “I have come to give you my answer.”

“Is it the right one?” The woman stood in front of him and batted her eyes.

Namjoon nodded and could not meet her cherries, “For me, yes. I cannot be yours as much as it pains me. My heart and soul belong to my God.”

She frowned and the glass shattered in her hand as wind picked up, there was a crack in her usually calm and cocky exterior, “It’s a shame that I have to do this by force, Joonie. I had really hoped you made the correct decision.”

Hands were put up defensively, such is the way one should hold themselves in an attempt for self preservation.

“Please, hear...hear me out. I want. I want you. I want to be yours, Y/N. There are feelings that I have never felt before, and I doubt they’ll just go away.” His voice was soft as the sky and had a rasp which matched the crinkling leaves. “But I cannot serve two Masters--”

“What if I told you that you can keep your priesthood and still belong to me?” Y/N said.

Was such a thing possible? “. . .I’d take that option in a heartbeat.”

Her smile returned and the wind died down, “Alright, then. Your heart, body, and half of your mind will belong to me, but He gets to keep your soul and the other half of your mind.”

Namjoon gave an eager nod, “Yes. Yes, please! What do I have to do?”

In an instant, Y/N ripped off the startled man’s shirt Sharp talon like fingers dragged up the abdomen which flexed underneath her touch. A firm hand then gripped his chin and forced them to look at her. Shaded eyes looked up with a devilish grin with showed the entirety of fangs sharper than any needle the desperate man had ever seen. He let himself get lost in her red beryl eyes and felt himself losing all of his will as two lovely canines sunk into his neck. A bit of warm wetness trickled from the wounds, dying his shirt a romantic crimson. Tears of pure bliss dropped from his eyes. It was painless as he felt himself relax under her ministrations, his legs starting to give out.

Father Namjoon soon found himself kneeling in front of her red dress as she licked her scarlet stained lips. Her heel cover shoe then stepped on the oh so attentive cock hidden beneath thin trousers. The man hissed in a breath and felt as though he could orgasm then and there.

“Hmp, I finally have you, don’t I?”

She then began walking away from him and floated up the stairs and sat herself on top of the pulpit and spread her legs. Unlike earlier where there was a piece of black lace separating YN’s already deflowered garden from the harshness of man, there was nothing except flowing river of her honey. The half turned priest licked his lips.

“Equivalent exchange, my dear. I take some of your lifeblood and you take your fill of my body. Anything you desire no matter how sinful it is, I will happily fulfill. Now devour my nectar.”

“Yes, Mistress~” Namjoon said without missing a beat and then walked towards her dripping pussy, taking a deep inhale. “Oh, God. It smells delicious.” He hovered his nose right above her heat and breathed in again, his torso pressed against the pulpit’s wooden cross and adding much needed pressure to his sheathed length.

Y/N shoved his head forward, “No more talking! Become mine already!” obvious impatience after months of hard work was expected and rewarded.

Everything Namjoon had ever imagined over the past 6 years of learning and eventually becoming a teacher at the school came forth. All thoughts that had been shoved to the deepest parts of his mind were given new life as he took his fill of her body. His pants were now discarded somewhere off to the side as he became hungrier and more unhinged.

He wanted to be hers and he wanted his God. With this oath, he was promised both. Jesus died for man’s sins. It would be a waste if he died for nothing, right? Every thrust inside the vampire he adored was like a prayer and her moans a matching hymnal loud enough for Him and all of His angels to hear.

“Mistress. Oh, Y/N. Thank you. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you, Mistress Y/N.” Father Joonie panted out as he rutted with no sense of fatigue. “I don’t know why I tried to fight it. I can really have it all with you.”

She giggled and moaned out his name, “Oh yes, Father Joonie, yes you can.”

“Don’t be with anyone else. Please. Keep your eyes on me. At least when we’re together. Don’t play around with Taehyung or anyone else.” He sounded so pitiful, begging a student that he taught not to play with his heart.

“If I ever play with anyone else, you will be there to make--oh goodness--to make sure they’re doing it right. You’re my number 1, Joonie. I wanted you and so I’m going to have you ask much as I can.” She was a moaning mess under him as they screwed, using the pews as support to blow out a Vampire’s back.

The fiercely tender words went right to the priest’s cock, “I’m gonna. Mistress Y/N, I’m going to cum! Let me seed your garden, please!”

His fluttered as she once again sank her teeth into him and sucked.

“Fuck! Yes! Oh God, yes!” The priest orgasmed deep inside his vampire student.

Father Namjoon no longer cared about him being her professor or that she was a vampire. All he could think about was how most of him belonged to her now. He slid out of her and got onto his knees to lay his head in her lap once she sat up. She caught her breath and started to smooth his head. Maybe she had pushed him too far for their first feeding.

Her own clothing had never been removed completely, only pushed out of the way to free her bosoms and create better access to her now filled and dripping pussy. She did not attempt to correct any of this as she adored the exposed feeling of it all.

Then her most prized possession in several centuries said to her in his dazed state, “I want to be yours for the rest of my life, Y/N.”

“And you will be.” She promised.

#BTS #Bangtan #SmutCentralNet #Min Yoongi #Kim Namjoon #Kim Taehyung #Vampire!Reader #Student!Reader #Female!Reader #Teacher!Namjoon #Priest!Namjoon #Preist!Namjoon #Professor!Namjoon #smut #Hand of Buddha #Buddha's Hand #Vampire x Human #Vampire!AU #Bitten and Sucked #Peachtober #Inktober 2019 #Blood Play

[charmingturkeysandwich]

Lost By Choice (2/3)

Here’s the second chapter of the Naked and Afraid AU that no one asked for! This was going to be the end, but I decided a third chapter was necessary. For... science.

Chapter 1

AO3

crrreeeaaaaak

snap!

squeeeeaaaaal

THUNK

fuck.

Killian's bare feet pounded the Earth at a rate that far exceeded his current capabilities. Exhausted and still pissed and without any real nutrition, he shouldn't be doing more than lying  against a tree and drowning his sorrows in dirty rain water, but those sounds that just practically echoed through the jungle? That was definitely his maddening, headstrong, obnoxious, broken, brave, idiotic, beautiful partner falling out of a goddamn tree.

He'd heard her climb it. She hadn't actually gone far after she'd stormed off and scrapped together her own shelter. They didn't really have enough energy in them to be wandering, so it made perfect sense. And she'd probably been hungry. And pissed. And decided to go hunting.

And it's not like he could have offered to help. Noooo, that was the problem to begin with, wasn't it? She wanted to go it alone. (On a show designed for two fucking people; god he was never going to stop fuming over that.) So he left her to herself. He trusted her. Why wouldn't he? She absolutely was capable of surviving on her own, of that he was sure.

But you can't predict the accidents that happen when your brain is muddled and your heart is on fire.

Speaking of accidents and brain-muddle, maybe running wasn't the best idea? Nah. Walk. Walking was less dangerous.

"Swan!" Though her fall had been audible - she was definitely close - it wasn't clear in which direction. And the fact that she wasn't crying, moaning, screaming... well, that was concerning.

"Swan!" His voice was cracking like a twelve year old lad's but the seconds ticking by were only further convincing him - and the medic staff behind him it seemed - that Emma Swan was going to be the show's first fatality.

"SWAN!"

"God, shut UP, Kilian," a strained voice whined from a few yards ahead.

Thank fucking Christ.

"Emma, what the bloody hell were you - "

"Mr. Jones, please step back while we assess your partner," one of the producers so diplomatically requested.

"I'm fine," Emma practically growled, her teeth clenched and the deepest scowl he'd ever seen marring her now very dirty face.

"The blood would suggest otherwise, there, Swan."

And boy was there a lot of blood. Her torso and legs seemed to get the brunt of it, scratches and scrapes covering the left half of her.  

"It's just - groan - superficial," Emma groaned as she tried to steady herself to stand.  

"Miss Swan! Lie back down!" the medic shouted in a thick accent. "You need to be assessed."

"UGGHHH!"

She probably used three quarters of her remaining energy on making that sound of disgust, but Emma.... Emma was a stubborn one. And she apparently was going to make her distaste unknown, even at her own detriment.

"You two might make for good TV, but I swear if you die and we get sued..." the producer half-ranted near but not at Emma. It wasn't clear if he even realized he was speaking aloud, but whatever. It was offensive. Especially because "make good TV" was definitely a signal that they were going to do some heavy editing on this episode, and god knows what exactly that would end up looking like. One of them would be cast as the villain, and with Emma bleeding, it was certainly going to be him.

Though she was the one yelling more often. So maybe her? No. It couldn't be. That definitely was not something he wanted to see.

And didn't want to know how that would affect her. Not well, for sure.

That's the problem with signing up for an event like this to work through your personal issues. It's effective, certainly. But at what cost?

More personal issues, probably.

"Ouch!" Emma shouted, the medic's hands now running down her left side.

"The cuts, they aren't deep. But you do run risk of infection by staying out here. The choice is yours."

The medic was speaking to Emma - at first - but turned very pointedly at the pacing producer once he got to that 'choice' part.

"You can't risk infection, Swan," Killian offered, his voice quiet as if to show he was speaking to her on a personal level and not as part of this ridiculous reality show.

Emma's eyes were closed and she was breathing hard through her nostrils, almost like she was trying to center herself. Or maybe imagine she were anywhere but here.  

"... I can't quit, Killian. I just - I have to do this."

There was a brief pause, a heaviness in the air as all parties (save for the howler monkeys) were silent.

Then: "You heard the woman. All right, let's get out of their hair. Camera 1 - come in close. Emma, you'll need to film a confessional on your own camera once you're back to camp. Preferably your original camp."  

Just as quickly as the team had descended, they disappeared into the jungle, leaving a worried Killian and a still-bleeding Emma to figure out how they were going to last until Day 21.

(And how they were going to address - or pointedly ignore - the blowup that occurred less than a day ago.)

"Fuck everything!" Emma screamed, the cameraman chuckling just enough that he knew there'd need to be an audio edit on top of a very long BLEEP to mask her profanity.  

How much of this stupid show's budget went to blurring their frustrated words and their private bits? Probably all of it, since the accommodations weren't exactly 5-star.

He reached his hand down to help Emma to fully stand and kept his grasp on her elbow to keep her from slipping as they trudged through the thick vegetation around the tree that felled her. Once they reached the camp, he helped lower her against a rock, leaning with her right side against the dirt to avoid further contamination of her wound. It being a brief intermission in the marathon of a storm they're experiencing, rebuilding a fire might not be totally impossible. So he set out to do just that, gathering small pieces of tinder that had been buried under other stuff, hopefully shielding it enough from the wet in order for it to burn. He reassembled the pump drill and got to work on the friction part, praying to any God that might listen that he get something to catch.

"Why aren't you lecturing me," Emma whispered after what had probably amounted to 30 minutes of silence.

(She was really the only thing that could break his focus.)

"Why would I  lecture you?"

"... because I'm an idiot?"

Hah.

"Yeah, well, welcome to the club, Swan. Though, to be fair, I think we were both branded lifetime achieving idiots when we shed our clothes and traipsed into a jungle with a stranger. Don't you think?"

For the first time in days her lips twisted upward, just a hint of a smile tugging at her features.

"OK but I went a little extra on the idiot. A little."

"Only because I snapped. We're a team and I should have done better at... I don't know, being your partner and not your keeper."

She scoffed and ran her fingers through her messy hair (it would have been so much more convenient for her to have cut it before this adventure, but he found himself appreciating the fact she didn't). "I think sometimes I need a keeper. I don't exactly... play well with others. Or others don't play well with me. I don't know. Things go bad. I don't know whose fault it is. But I'm ... I'm not letting this be one of those things that goes bad."

"You mean, aside from the shredded thigh you've got going on there."

"Yes, Captain Obvious, aside from that."

"Ooooh, I quite like when you call me Captain." He tried to wink, but there's no way his protein-starved muscles made any kind of attractive expression.

She still laughed.

-

Thank fucking Christ that it had stopped raining. The fire was going again. The mosquitoes were... less. Not gone, though, and her usually very creamy pale skin was pocked with angry red dots that itched like you wouldn't fucking believe.

And, oh yeah, there were those other angry red marks from where she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.

On the way down I saw you, and you saved me from myyyyself. And I won't forget the way you loved me.

Dear god, she was singing mid-00s emo-pop in her head and yeah, she really needed some fucking food.

She'd tried some gathering again and got them some fruit. And Killian had chopped down a tree like the lumberjack saving Red Riding Hood and they got themselves some heart of palm. So it's not like they were going to die.

But, god, did she just want to die. Mostly of embarrassment at this point. Between the flipping out, the falling, and the over-confessing, she was drained of things to be embarrassed of.

(And don't forget the nudity. The on-camera nudity. Yeah, the wiggly bits would be blurred, but that didn't mean the cameramen, the producers, the medics - and Killian - didn't see all the unedited goodness. And badness.)

Not being able to pull her weight was driving her mad, though, so she set to weaving a basket for a fish trap that Killian might be able to place (no way she was getting in that water and dying of some crazy grossness getting in her yet-to-be-scabbed-over scrapes).

"Ah, Swan! Busy at work, I see!" Killian shouted, his way of announcing himself as he returned to camp from gathering firewood (he'd scared the metaphorical pants off her just the day before - you could have been a jaguar! - worried I'd pounce, love?)

His innuendos and flirt behavior were getting more frequent, but it made for a good distraction. A distraction from her pain, from their hunger and strandedness, and - most of all - from the fact that she didn't hate this whole partner thing, after all.

With her not at full-speed, they've been more forced to divide the labor, to talk things out, to let Killian do something that Emma very much had the capability in some way to do, but chose not to.  

Just because you could didn't mean you should.  

(Or that you had to.)

Sleeping had been hard the night after her injury. Training herself to not roll where she shouldn't was difficult, especially because she preferred to sleep on her left side on a normal night. But it was thankfully dry and Killian's fire was roaring, and they were able to just have some pleasant conversation until they drifted off to the lullaby of the monkeys and the bugs.

She'd probably only slept an hour total but that hour had been legitimately restful, so it was a check in the 'win' column there.

Only the next day saw more rain. A lot more rain. Enough, in fact, that the fish trap Emma had built and Killian had placed had just.... washed away.

Fuck.

That night was even worse. They were wet, fireless, and so deeply uncomfortable. Visualizing somewhere warm and full of pillows had stopped working right after sunset and Killian's constant groans every time he had to shift to keep from shivering to death were annoying her to pieces. So she made the obvious suggestion.

"Uh, Jones? Wanna cuddle?"

She expected a witty retort or an innuendo, but the poor man was just miserable enough that all he did was crawl over to her and throw his arm over her waist, his belly pressed against her back. He mumbled something incoherent and all she could do was chuckle at him.

Hey, it was only fair she'd provide the warmth via cuddles since he'd provided it through fire before the storm resumed.

Sleep wasn't great that night, either, her mind so focused on the rain and the growling belly and her still very painful scrapes to even be concerned with the soft cock resting between her ass cheeks.

When she awoke in the morning after what amounted to only a nap's worth of sleep, that cock was definitely no longer soft and in any other situation that would mean something, but here? It didn't mean much besides 'thank god one of us actually slept well enough to dream.'

For which she was very appreciative.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Emma mumbled when Killian finally started stirring, his nose rubbing against her neck like he was scratching an itch or warming and appendage.  

"Ah, so we all agree that I'm beautiful," he mumbled in return, scooting away from her and poking his head past the fronds to see what kind of damage they were looking at.

"Yeah, we're almost flooded."

Not new information.

God this place sucked.

"What the hell are we going to do today?" she grumbled, knowing damn well there wasn't going to be much.  

"You don't think we should just... chill?"

"I don't know how to chill without access to Netflix. And don't you dare make a sex joke right now because I would never dishonor Netflix by fucking through it instead of watching."

"Damn. Down, girl. I won't insult streaming serial killer docs and orgies."

"What the hell do you watch that you think that's all Netflix is?"

"I'm pleading the fifth." Killian grinned at her like they were in on some inside joke, and really, weren't they? Wasn't this all one big inside joke? No one else had this experience. Not even the cameramen who might film them or the producers "directing" or the viewers watching. This was theirs.

It had been a long time since she shared anything with anyone else. Let alone something special. Or intimate.

(Oh, she'd been naked with guys plenty, but it wasn't nudity of the fucking soul.)

They kept trading jabs for a long while before falling into companionable silence, Killian humming at times and Emma playing drums on the side of her belly that wasn't full of gashes.  

How long had it been since she'd had a chance to just be? And with someone else on top of it?

"I'm glad they picked you to be my partner, Jones." It was an out-of-nowhere confession and it left her vulnerable to a whole hell of a lot of jokes from Mr. Chuckles over there. But he took the high road.

"Same here, love. Same here."

-

That night marked the beginning of the end, unfortunately. Swan was a fighter, but there were some things you just couldn't stop.

Around dusk, the fever set in. The wounds on her thighs were hot to the touch, the scrapes at her ribs starting to ooze. She was going to be pulled - there was no avoiding it - but Emma wasn't having it.

"Killian, I'm fine. I'll heal. We're doing so good!" she whisper-shouted, a shiver wracking her body that had nothing to do with the rain or the nakedness. No, there was no denying now that infection had set in.

"Emma, I'm begging you. Try to come to terms with it now. It's not your fault. But this isn't going to last."

"No!" she whined like a teenager getting grounded, but he couldn't judge her. Not when he could see her world was crashing around her. Without thinking, he scooted himself closer to her, fully enveloping her in his arms. She let out a sob - just a tiny one - before relaxing against him.

The producers and medic were certainly on their way. They couldn't have Emma die of sepsis, all for a dramatic episode.

And he'd been right. They swooped in just minutes after Emma curled against him. She put up a fight - of course she did - but they made it clear that this was no longer her choice. She was being medically pulled from the game. She bitched and grumbled and whined and after finally agreeing that she'd rather not die than complete her challenge, she looked right into a camera and shouted, "this better not drop my fucking PSR!" and started storming off.

The medic caught her, of course, and asked her to lie down on a stretcher. It was procedure, after all.

"Just pretend you're Cleopatra being carried to her throne, love," he joked as she lay down, her wounds now covered with gauze and antibiotic, most likely.  

She rolled her eyes but almost smiled.

"Try not to have too much fun without me." Her voice was sadder than he'd actually heard before. Or maybe not sadder, but it was... something. Different.  

"Ha! You think I'm staying here without you? Bullocks. I didn't sign up for a solitary confinement experiment here. I'm out of here."

At that, she shot upright, to the deep annoyance of the medic. "You can't! You have to last the 21 days! It's why you came here."

His face was hot and his ear was itchy and he should just shut up, but couldn't really help the over-honest response from spilling out his mouth. "Why you start something isn't why you finish it. Or don't finish it. Sometimes you - well, I mean - people. Sometimes people find something bigger than what they were looking for.

Emma's jaw dropped - as he thought it might - and she was painfully silent. Then and the whole trek to extraction. And the boat ride. She'd smile at him and acknowledge his overall existence, but she didn't use any of her words and it was maddening.

But the poor woman was battling something that in all reality could kill her so he couldn't exactly begrudge her for not addressing the fact that he kind of indicated he may have some warm and fuzzy feelings toward her.

(God, he probably loved her, but she didn't need to know that.)

Once back in the city, she was admitted to the hospital for treatment and he was technically released to return to his very boring, very clothed life. But he couldn't leave. Not without seeing her again.

So he booked a hotel room and waited a few days for her to hopefully start to feel better and then he walked into the hospital seeking out the room number he'd bribed a member of the production team to give him.

When he found her she was awake but lying in bed, an iPad perched on her food tray in front of her.

(Lord knows she loved her Netflix.)

"Swan! You're alive!" was the best he could do to announce his presence without announcing his... intentions.

"Jones! What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back in Boston, bar crawling for babes or something like that?"

"What exactly are you watching on that daft apparatus that would make you think I'd behave that way?"

She rolled her eyes in annoyance, but - like she often had in the jungle - she gave him just a bit of a smile.

And how fucking gorgeous that smile was when her cheeks were pink and her belly was (presumably) full and she was clean, dry, and not dying.

He left the ball in her court, suddenly more afraid than he'd ever been on Naked and Afraid, just waiting to see if she might actually want to know him as a human being outside of a survival situation or if their time in the jungle was nothing more than a bromance of convenience.

They were both silent, probably for too long. She tapped a few times on her iPad and then closed the case on it, finally looking him up and down.

"Fuck. How is it that you're even hotter with clothes on?!"

Huh. Not the reaction he was expecting.

"See something you like, love?"

"I know you see something you like."

Pause.

"Are you seriously teasing me for having a crush on you?"

"Of course I am. You just wait until our episode airs and I'm painted as the psycho bitch. Nobody has a crush on the psycho bitch, Killian."

"I don't. I have a crush on a smart, determined, damaged, beautiful, stubborn, resourceful badass, who maybe had a silly meltdown once that led to a dangerous infection. But just that one time."

"That you know of."

She hadn't admitted any reciprocated feelings, but she wasn't tossing him out of the room, so that was probably a good sign? Right?

"I don't like the assertion that you could ever duplicate the experience we just had together, love. It was one-of-a-kind, I'd say."

She hummed and started picking at her nails, a nervous twitch he'd never seen before now. "Oh, yeah. Definitely a one-time thing."

"Ha! Well... care to - I don't know - experience maybe some other one-time things with me? Perhaps? Just... not in the jungle. Unless that's what does it for you."

"Nah, definitely something that keeps you in that leather jacket. It does something for me."

She smiled. And he smiled. And after completing the cycle from reluctant partners to enemies to friends to something else, Killian finally sauntered over to her hospital bed and planted a solid kiss right on her still-smiling lips.

Funny the things you can find when you weren't looking to begin with.

tagging: @hollyethecurious & @killian-whump

(p.s. the whump is coming.) 

#cs ff #cs fanfic #cs au ff #captain swan #keisha writes #naked and afraid #yeah idk #i like it #you might not #i needed to get back into writing #so this happened #:)

[deadlybeautydbz]

Let It Snow

I asked for prompt ideas, you guys delivered with so many great suggestions, and now I’ve (hopefully) delivered a nice lil story for you.

So since it's still 500,000 degrees here and hot as hell, I decided to kick of the prompt revival with @profoundlytenaciousgalaxy‘s suggestion of Marron seeing her first snow, in the hopes that it would cool me down (it didn’t). Hope you like it!

I will say that I do feel like this was some what rusty and not some of my best writing but I’ll get back in the swing of it. I hope you enjoy it none the less.

Anyway, story below the cut, please keep sending me your prompt ideas and suggestions! I love hearing from you all!

Let It Snow

-

“Mummy, Daddy!” Marron called as she hurtled down the hall towards her parents’ bedroom. “Mummy, Daddy!” The door burst open and a second later a small blonde girl scrambled up onto the big bed, and sat herself down between her parents.

“Mummy, Daddy, there’s sand outside!”

 “Marron…” 18 groaned and lifted her head just high enough to crack one eye open, for the sole purpose of checking that her child wasn’t bleeding. She was fine. And with that, 18 let her head flop back down onto the pillow. The room was still dark, what time was it anyway? “Shhh. Keep your voice down please.” She pleaded. “We don’t want to wake Daddy. He just got home from work.”

“Oops” Marron winced and lifted her index finger to her lips. She knew that it was important to be quite when Daddy was sleeping “Shhh.”

Turning her attention to her father, Marron leaned right in until her face was almost pressed against Krillin’s cheek. “Are you asleep, Daddy?” she whispered into his ear, and sat back up, waiting hopefully for a response. Life was always more fun for Marron when her daddy was home to play with her.

Krillin’s eyes were closed, and he appeared to be snoring. Her shoulders slumped and her bottom lip puckered into a cute little pout. Accepting that she’d been defeated, Marron turned back towards 18, and that was when Krillin pounced.

“Boo!” Krillin cried, and reached out for Marron, grabbing her in a bear hug amidst shrieks of surprised delight, and pulled her back in against him. “Tricked you!”

“Daddy!” Marron cried. She wriggled and squirmed and laughed as Krillin tickled her and tousled her hair. “You tricked me!”

“I sure did.” A long yawn escaped Krillin’s lips. He’d only slunk into bed twenty minutes earlier after a gruelling nightshift. Lazily, he lifted up the duvet and Marron quickly scurried underneath, snuggling up to her daddy and wrapping her arms around his neck. “You know what, firefly,” he mused lazily and kissed the top of his daughter head. “I think you’ve gotten bigger since I tucked you in last night.”

“I have not!”

“No it’s true. What are you now, ten, eleven? You’ll be all grown up before I know it!”

“Daddy, stop being silly,” Marron wriggled around in his arms and placed a tiny hand on either side of his face, glaring up at him with a stern look that she had most certainly inherited from her mother. “I’m four, Daddy.”

“Four?” Krillin’s brow furrowed and he looked down at the little blonde firecracker in his arms “That can’t be right.”

“It is, Daddy, I’m four, I promise!”

“Alright then, if you say so,” Krillin admitted defeat.

“Daddy, there is sand outside!” Marron exclaimed, suddenly remembering why she had come racing into her parent’s room in the first place.

“Sand?”

“Yeah, sand, like at Grandpa Roshi’s house.”

“It’s not sand, firefly, its snow.”

“Snow?” Marron looked thoroughly perplexed. “What’s snow?”

“Well, it’s kinda like sand, but it’s very very cold, and it falls from the sky. It’s kind of like frozen rain. Why don’t you go and get dressed and we’ll go outside and check it out.”

Marron didn’t need to be told twice. As quick as a fiddle, she had raced down the bed and was gone.

 Seizing the opportunity, Krillin shimmied across the bed towards his wife, who had been watching the tender interaction between father and daughter with a loving smile. “Good morning, my love,” he said, and placed a slow kiss on 18’s lips.

“Good morning,” she replied as they parted. “How was work?”

Krillin rested his head against 18’s shoulder and draped an arm lazily over her waist. Her body was so warm under the blankets, and the way she automatically rolled into him, so that their bodies were pressed together made Krillin feel so cocooned and protected. “Long and exhausting” he replied.  “We were called out to eight traffic incidents once the snowstorm hit. I don’t think I sat down for more than five minutes in my entire shift.” Already Krillin could already feel his eyes growing heavy again, it would be nothing just to slip back into his peaceful slumber.

18 sighed and relaxed against her husband, enjoying the feeling of his warm breath against her neck. She really hated when he worked his nightshift blocks; and even though Krillin was more than capable of handling himself, she had to admit that that thought of him wandering the streets after dark caused her worry. All it took was one moment of carelessness, or one bad judgement and it could all be over. And 18 was more than aware of the fact that Krillin had reached the end of the line when it came to magical dragon revivals. He was just as mortal as any other man now.

“I should get up before I fall asleep.” Krillin’s eyes were closed and his voice nothing more than a heavy murmur. “I promised Marron.”

Gently, 18 reached up and ran her fingers across Krillin’s hair, she felt him smile against her shoulder as she repeated the soothing motion again and again. “It’s okay,” she said, softly. “Go to sleep. You need to rest. You’re not as young as you used to be know you,” she teased.

That was enough to rouse Krillin from his semi-conscious state. He didn’t need his wife reminding him that he was rapidly approaching 40, he was already lamenting that fact enough without her added commentary. Dipping into his final reserves of energy for the day, Krillin forced himself to put on a show for 18, and he leapt out of bed with the enthusiasm of someone half his age.

-

It was cold outside the warm cocoon of their bedroom, and a shiver ran up Krillin’s spine as he padded softly down the hallway, dressed only in his pyjama pants. The snow had come down hard overnight; outside the first rays of morning light had only just peaked over the horizon, and the whole world seemed to have a pre-dawn stillness to it.

“Marron,” Krillin peaked his head around a doorframe and into his daughter’s bedroom, expecting to see her tossing her clothes around the room as she decided on the days outfit – again, a trait she got from 18 and definitely not him. But the room was empty. “Marron,” he called again, softly so as not to disturb 18 who had probably already drifted back to sleep. “Where are you?”

“Out here, daddy!” came a cheery reply from somewhere down at the front of the house, and Krillin smiled and let out a breath that he hadn’t realised had caught in his throat when Marron hadn’t been where he’d expected her to be.

To say that Krillin was protective of his wife and daughter would be somewhat of an understatement. A combination of knowing that the universe was full of bad guys who seemed to have a vendetta against the Earth and who could show up at any time and wipe them all out; and that his city was just full of run of the mill scumbags, whom Krillin often arrested while he was wearing an identifying name badge, was enough to cause him to lose sleep. If anything ever happened to either of them... Krillin stopped and redirected his chain of thought before he went too far down that miserable rabbit hole.

Marron was sitting on the couch, legs swinging back and forth with excitement when Krillin entered the room. “C’mon daddy, let’s go!” she jumped up as soon as she saw him, “Let’s go outside and play!”

“Woah, hold up there, firefly,” Krillin had to laugh at Marrons enthusiasm. He squatted down in front of her, so that he could rest on his heels, and brushed a few strands of unruly bed hair from Marron’s face. “What did we talk about in bed? It’s snow outside, not sand, and it’s very cold, so why are you dressed for the beach?”

Marron shrugged. She clearly didn’t see anything wrong with her swimsuit and sunhat combo, either that, or the concept of snow was completely lost on a four year old.

“C’mon,” Krillin smiled and lifted Marron up onto his hip. “Let’s go change.”

- Half an hour later, everyone, 18 included, was up, had had their breakfast – and in Krillin’s case, an extra strong black coffee, and was dressed appropriately in their warm winter gear. Scarves, beanies, mitten, jackets, the works! All things that Krillin nor 18 would ever have imagined owning in their previous life on Kame Island and which had cost a small fortune to buy for their new life in Satan City.

“Are you ready?” Krillin asked as he tied the laces on Marron’s boots, “It’s going to be extra cold outside, remember.”

“Ready!” Marron shouted, barely able to contain herself, “I wanna play in the snow!”

“Alright,” Krillin opened the door and Marron shot out into the yard.

“Marron, be careful!” Ever watchful, 18’s eyes didn’t leave her daughter as she bounced around the backyard, “Please don’t slip!”

“She’ll be fine,” Krillin reassured his wife as he finished pulling on his work boots. He liked these boots, and wore them at every opportunity, the solid bottoms on them made him at least an inch taller. “It’s just the backyard.”

18 wasn’t convinced. Marron wasn’t the only one who had never seen snow before, and 18 had to admit as she stepped out onto the back porch of their little home, that she hardly recognised her own yard. Everything has been coated in a deep dusting of white fluff, and more was falling from the sky by the minute. It was freezing – well below zero, and for someone who was much more acclimatised to tropical living, 18 was shocked at just how cold the air was as it rushed past her face.

The family had moved to Satan City around seven months ago, when Krillin had graduated from the police academy. They had just caught the tail end of their first city summer, and 18 had thoroughly enjoyed the balmy nights outside in this very backyard, grilling late into the evening as the sun set, pottering around in her vegetable garden and watching Marron climb all over her jungle gym. Even though they had only been in their new home for a relatively short amount of time, it had already provided 18 with some of her favourite memories.

This though, this was…. something else. The temperature had been steadily dropping for the last few weeks, and the weather reports had been promising that the first snow of the season wouldn’t be far away, but 18 hadn’t expected this – it was like stepping out of her house and into another world where colour didn’t exist.

“Mummy, Daddy, come and play with me!” Marron picked up a wad of fresh, fluffy snow in her gloved hands, and tossed it up above her, laughing with glee as she danced around the yard.

Eager to join her daughter, if for no other reason than to supervise, 18 stepped off the porch, and instantly sunk into the ground. She was, all of a sudden, buried in the snow up to her knees. Her surprised yelp caught the attention of Krillin, who upon seeing his wife’s predicament, was unable to control his raucous laughter.

“What happened babe?” He teased, as he approached the edge of the porch to survey the situation.

“Shut up.”

“Now, now, that’s no way to talk to the handsome police officer who has come to rescue you.” There was a mischievous glint in Krillin’s eye as he spoke. He was enjoying this. “Ah, it seems what’s happened here, young lady, is that you stepped off the porch right where a big pile of snow has fallen from the roof.”

“I know what’s happened, Krillin, just help me out of here.”

“You’ve really got to be more careful, ma’am. This could have ended much worse.”

“Krillin…” 18’s voice was becoming tense.

“Look!” Krillin laughed and threw his arms around 18’s shoulders. Being knee deep in snow, and Krillin still standing on the safety of the porch, he was now taller than her by almost an entire head. He ducked his head down for a kiss, and it was all 18 could do to wrap her arms around his waist and kiss her goofy husband back. He was a complete dork, there was no doubt about that, but he was her dork and she loved him. Even when he was being a smartarse.

“This is weird,” she said, and waved her hands between them. Her nose crinkled and Krillin placed another quick peck on the end of it.

“You’re right,” he agreed and held out his hand to help pull 18 up out of the snow. Once they were back on even footing, he went back in for another kiss at their usual height discrepancy. “That’s better.”

“Much,” 18 agreed.

“C’mon” Krillin again offered his hand, which 18 was quick to accept, and with their gloved fingers intertwined, they ventured out from under the cover of the porch and into the yard.

“Mummy, Daddy!” Marron came bounding towards her parents, “Look!” she scooped up two big handfuls of snow and tossed it high into the air. Watching Marron frolic and play, seeing her so happy, brought smiles to the faces of both her parents.

“Check this out, Marron,” Krillin followed his daughters lead, and scooped up a handful of snow. Marron watched in awe, and he shaped and moulded the snow in his hand until he had formed a somewhat lumpy, not completely round wad of snow. “This is called a snowball. And do you know what you do with snowballs?”

“What daddy?”

“You throw them!” Krillin exclaimed and pitched the snowball directly at a totally unsuspecting 18. It exploded on contact, covering poor 18, who was as clueless as her daughter as to the utility of snowballs, in a plume of snow. Her entire face and torso now camouflaged into the bleakness of the backyard.

“Krillin!” She shrieked, but her words were completely drowned out by the hysteric laughter of both Krillin and Marron, and any anger she felt over her husband’s sneak attack quickly dissipated once she saw the pure and unfiltered joy on their faces.

“My turn, Daddy!”

“Okie dokey,” Marron scooped another handful of snow, and Krillin gently guided her hands with his own, helping her form in to the required ball shape. “But don’t throw this one at Mummy okay, I don’t think she liked it.”

“Okay!” Marron complied and tossed her snowball directly into Krillins face, from point blank range. He let himself fall back into the snow, laughing all the way down, and a second later, Marron was on top of him, grabbing handful after handful of freshly fallen snow and sprinkling it down over his face and chest. This was exactly like when they used to play together on the beach.

“Alright. Let me up before you completely bury me!” Krillin said, after letting Marron bucket snow over him for another couple of minutes. As he sat up, he felt something cold thump into his back. He whipped his head around, to find 18 standing behind him, arms crossed over her chest and looking smug as all hell.

“Did you see that Marron?” Krillin asked, eyes wide with shock. “Mummy hit me with a snowball. You know what that means, right? Get her!”

What broke out next could only be described as an all-out war. Snowballs and laughter were flying across the yard in all directions. Everyone was covered from head to toe in snow, which was quickly melting as they ran frantically around the yard and warmed their bodies.

It was crazy, Krillin found himself thinking, as the family spent the next half an hour running and jumping, ducking, weaving and assaulting each other with wave after wave of snowballs, that 18 had a reputation for being uncaring and aloof. If only their friends were here now, to see the way she laughed and smiled with Marron as they raced around their frozen playground. She was completely carefree, living in the moment and Krillin, for the millionth time, thanked Kami, or Dende or whoever else would listen for bringing 18 into his life. There was no one in the universe who he loved more or who could be a better mother to his child.

“Hey, honey!” 18 yelled, and stupidly, Krillin turned towards her. He realised half way through the movement what was going to happen, but it was too late and he only just managed to get a glimpse of 18’s cheeky smile before a snowball splatted him square in the face.

Krillin started to run. “I’ll get you for that!” he shouted as he wiped the snow from his eyes. A short chase broke out, but quickly he closed in on 18, and with a lunge he managed to grab her around the waist and tackle her to the ground.

18 landed on her back with a thud, and Krillin came tumbling down on top of her. “Gotcha,” Krillin panted. He was hot and sweaty under his snow gear and he was beginning to come down from his caffeine high. It would certainly be bedtime soon.

“Mmm, it appears you did,” 18 smiled and wrapped her arms around Krillins waist, giving him a squeeze. She lifted her head up from the soft, pillowy snow and found Krillin’s lips with her own. Their faces were both cold and the sensation of their icy lips connecting sent a shiver down 18’s spine. She didn’t object when Krillin deepened the kiss, pushing her back down into the snow and prying her lips apart with his tongue.

“Eww, Mummy, Daddy, yuck!” Marron came trotting over to her parents, who seemed to be completely oblivious to her arrival, and wondering why their game had suddenly stopped. “Stop kissing!” She tossed a couple of snowballs at the pair. The cold snow splashing directly against their flushed faces did the trick, and they reluctantly pulled away.

“Later,” Krillin smiled against 18’s lips, before he stood up and scooped Marron up onto his shoulders. It was a promise that she had every intention of making him keep.

“C’mon, firefly,” With Marron carefully balanced on his shoulders, he reached out his hand to help 18 up from the snow. She found herself eye to eye with her little girl and placed a great big kiss on her rosy cheek. “Time to go inside.” Krillin said, and yawned. He was in desperate need of sleep. “What do you think? Do you like the snow?”

“Yes!” Marron cried, and pumped an enthusiastic fist towards the sky.

“Well that’s good news, because it’s going to be here for a while.” Krillin popped Marron down on the porch and knelt down to help her take her boots off. “So tomorrow I’ll show you how to make a snowman, but for now, Daddy need some sleep. Deal?”

“Deal!” 

-

Let me know what you think, and as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Big Love, D.B

#krillin #android 18 #kururin #juuhachigou #k18 #c18 #cyborg 18 #marron #dbz #dbs #dragonball z #dragon ball z #dragonball super #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writing prompts #otp #otp prompts #deadlybeautyfanfiction

[protectorsofthewood]

Abby and Wendy - Episode 38

THE LONG ROAD 

“Hey Abby!” Phoebe turned to catch a glimpse of Abby’s face in the faint light. “You never mentioned all this fascinating stuff. I had no idea.” 

               “Yeah, but remember, I haven’t seen him in ten years.” 

“Isaiah and Ishmael know him too,” added Lluvia. “In fact, the whole band might be staying with Alex.” 

 They were walking along a wandering pathway bordered by thin metal posts holding chains, apparently set up to keep people off the lawn. Sculpted columns held lights throwing shadows across their path. Large stone buildings with arches and gothic decorations appeared across the lawn. Tall oak and maple trees obscured the view ahead. A thin curved moon like a boat sailed slowly across the sky. The campus was quiet, with murmuring voices and music in the background.  

 A wide arch appeared ahead of them, and then a short tunnel led off the campus to a narrow street lined with a row of very old brick houses. Lluvia stopped at one of these small one family dwellings, about five yards wide and two stories high. After a tiny front yard, three windows glowed in the night, one near the door and two above.  

               “Well, there are people here at least,” Abby said. 

 “Of course,” Lluvia replied. “It’s a big deal that we’re visiting. They’re waiting for us.” 

 “How do you know?” Abby sensed that Lluvia knew a lot more about this situation than she had let on. 

 Lluvia laughed. “We’re better organized than you think. We obey the phone rules, but Sharon brings messages back and forth. And I’m here often these days.”  

She knocked on the door, and knocked again. An acoustic guitar and voice suddenly stopped. 

“Yes?” came a voice. “Who is it?” 

“It’s me, Isaiah! Lluvia!” 

The door opened. Isaiah and Lluvia embraced. Abby glanced around at the mess in the small multi-purpose room. There were pizza boxes on the floor, two open duffel bags with loose clothing, a sleeping bag, books, two guitars and a drum set, and prints all over the walls. Isaiah pushed some books on the couch onto the floor, and moved a couple of folding chairs. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said. “Lluvia, Abby, Phoebe, sorry for the chaos here, and sorry to be the only one to welcome you. The others should be back… well, it’s hard to say. There’s a lot going on.” Isaiah raised a hand as if to dismiss the whole subject. “What about Alex?” asked Lluvia.  

“I thought he was at the gallery.” 

“Mmm… we were just there. In fact, we were supposed to meet him there.” 

“Welcome to Evansville College,” said Isaiah sarcastically.

There’s something sad in his eyes, thought Abby. “You don’t look too happy. Anything we can do?” Isaiah shrugged. 

Abby looked at Lluvia, who was speechless and seemed shocked. Clearly she had not expected this reception. Abby decided to pursue Isaiah, get him to open up. “I heard that song through the door,” she said. “I still hear it in my head. What song is that?” 

“Oh, just something I’ve been working on. I think I finished it.” 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“I’m a bad guitar player. I won’t do it justice.” 

“Through the door it sounded… well, powerful. I’m really interested.” Abby handed him a guitar. He’s depressed, she thought. Lonely, but more than that.

Isaiah played a few chords and hummed a melody, not a fast rhythm but not slow either. A very solemn tune. He began to sing: 

                        Take me up on the long road 

                      Where the heavens open wide 

                       I want to tell you just how much we care 

                      Won’t you listen to our cry 

                      Do you ever show your hand 

                      Can anyone ever know 

                      It’s all that we can do to crawl 

                       And it’s a long long way to go 

                        Climbing up the distant ladder 

                       Sometimes the heart’s the only guide 

                        I want you to know about the love we share 

                       I want you to see how hard we try 

                      Take one step at a time 

                       When you’re feeling so empty 

                       You’ve got to lose just to live 

                       I don’t see nothing here for free 

                        Can I do something for you 

                       Can you do something for me 

                       Cause it’s way after midnight 

                      And I can barely see 

                       Take me for a ride on your railroad 

                       Take me for a ride up to the sun 

                       I want to know the place where we go 

                       Where our lives are lost and won 

 The song was over. There was a moment of silence. “Oooo…” murmured Lluvia.  

“Definitely… powerful,” repeated Abby. 

There was silence again. Finally, Lluvia said, “It’s about you, right? We’re your friends. Come on, let us in, what’s up?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it. But… I know I have to… Okay, the big news is I’m catching Sharon’s boat early tomorrow. I’ll miss the big concert in the courtyard tomorrow night. I told Cali, but haven’t spoken to anyone else. Maybe Cali will find them.” 

“Something important must have happened.” Lluvia put her hand on his knee. “Come on, let us in.” 

“My mother’s sick. She’ll have some kind of procedure done on her eye tomorrow morning, and be in the hospital for a few days. I’m frightened for her.” They waited. 

“She got Sharon to find me and say I should act as pastor on 

Sunday in the church, unless Sonny wants to do it. In which case I should support Sonny and run Sunday school. Junior’s in River City for a meeting. He’s away more often than he’s home. And I am too!”  

Isaiah opened his arms as if pleading with them. “We’re deserting our responsibilities. I don’t like it here. Everyone is a kid, a mob of twenty-year olds looking for girlfriends or boyfriends, socializing like mad. There’s no one here like me. I’m not interested in assistant professors and college events. I’m thirty-four years old, and not making any money – though we are supposed to get paid for our radio concert – but I don’t care, they’ll give me my share later. And then they’ll go to River City for a show, but I won’t go. And… any moment they’ll walk in and I’ll spoil their evening, but I don’t care. I can’t do this any longer.” Lluvia hugged him. 

“They won’t even have time to practice the band without me!” Isaiah was almost yelling with frustration. “It’s such a mean thing I’m doing. You got to lose just to live.” He had tears in his eyes. 

“I think you’re doing the right thing,” Abby said. 

“Yeah,” Lluvia said softly. “It’s important to be pastor if they need you. These kids in Sunday school are important. How about Wednesday night at the Open Gate? Hundreds of people come every week. With Junior and Cali gone, who can run it? You have jobs to do.” 

“I do. I do. And I like my jobs. I like the band too, but I end up sitting around here, feeling out of place. My band and their friends are over ten years younger than me. These students are even younger. You should hear the stuff they talk about. Debating the end of the world. Dystopia, everything’s about dystopia. I hate these discussions. Let’s do something about it! They talk about Alex’s fire breathing dragon as if the end is near. And that dragon pouring out the flood…” – he motioned to a nearby print of The Ark on the wall – “you see it everywhere.”   

Lluvia backed up and gave Isaiah a stare. “Now don’t go overboard on me, that’s not fair. The Students Against Fossil Fuels are trying. You see STAFF shirts all over. We’ve just come from a meeting where we were all trying to do something. Alex isn’t predicting the end of the world. His Ark is about getting through the flood with all life. The dragon is just nature striking back against our mistakes. You must have heard Alex’s idea. He wants to give Students Against Fossil Fuels a new name: SAD, for Students Against Distopia.” 

“Mmm… I like that,” Isaiah replied. “But I’m not a student, and I’m not going to be one. How old are you, Lluvia?” 

“Why ask that? I’m twenty-two.” 

“See? That’s my point. You like Alex. You’re in a different stage of life. And you’re right, I know I’m being unfair, venting all this to you. I’ll get over it. At least now I know what I should be doing. The band will survive. They’ll figure it out.” 

Abby broke into the conversation. “You’re right. Don’t feel guilty. They’ll understand. And who can argue with your mother, your church, your community? Lluvia and I grew up there, went to Sunday school there. We would never be where we are without adults who cared.” 

Phoebe suddenly had a few words to say. “The band will survive. I know them. We’re on your side. Do what you need to do. Now, I’m going to clean up this place. How did it become such a mess? We’re staying here too.”  

Abby and Lluvia and Isaiah joined in.  

Cali and Alex arrived, and received a warm welcome from all. Abby and Alex embraced and stared at each other. Everyone felt a burst of energy and sat around the coffee table with several conversations going on at once. Cali did her best to relieve Isaiah’s anxieties. She had spoken to George, Eddy, and Ishmael. They were already making plans on the phone. Rain was predicted for the following evening, and Sara had received permission to move the concert indoors. In fact, explained Cali, they might be able to play in the beautiful old auditorium in Alexander Hall. That circular stone building was the most prestigious place for music on campus.  

Plus, Sara wanted Ishmael, Eddy, and George to show up early the following morning at the trustee event. “Sara’s afraid the trustees will delay presenting their position on disinvestment,” Cali explained. “People could get restless and annoyed. Sara wants the band to hold the crowd if that happens.”  

Nobody was mad at Isaiah; Cali was sure of that. The band would set up in Alexander Hall early in the afternoon, and could practice for hours. The concert would begin at 7pm.  

Alex offered beer, wine, coffee, or tea. Phoebe, Lluvia, and Abby were exhausted, and wanted peppermint tea and a place to sleep. Isaiah was packing his things in a duffel bag.  

“So where is everybody?” asked Isaiah.  

“Well, George and Ishmael are in Sara’s dorm,” Cali answered. “Eddie is somewhere with Stephanie, and I’m invited to a party and only stopped by to bring you the news.” 

I’ve got to say something, thought Abby. I need to know something! “Cali, wait a second. I haven’t seen George since that disaster in the churchyard. He hasn’t returned to Middletown since then. 

I need to know how he’s doing… It was so painful for him.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Cali replied softly, almost in a whisper. “But he likes it here. It’s kind of… well, liberating for him to be away from all that tension. He’s writing songs, gets along with Sara and her friends. He can’t stay in Sara’s dormitory forever, but so far it’s okay.” 

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, that really helps.” 

“It’s all okay,” Cali said. She headed out the door and said she’d be back in a couple of hours. There was a long silence.

Then Lluvia looked at Alex. “Where were you? We saw your gallery, but you didn’t show up.” 

“I’m sorry… I was at the big staff meeting. We’re organizing tomorrow’s…” He hesitated. “Event…gathering… demonstration? Who knows what it is, or how it will come off. Sara and Amy are desperate to give it some respectability and prestige. They asked everyone to act as security, speak to the campus police about any problems, intervene on people trying to disrupt. The meeting went on and on, but at least we have a plan. Staff will show at 8am and drink coffee, and greet people as they arrive. I’m not used to this sort of thing, but I’m doing my best. No banners, no signs allowed. We’re all supposed to wear STAFF t-shirts. Here, I’ve got a few to give you.” He reached into his backpack and handed out the shirts. 

“How exciting,” exclaimed Lluvia. “That’s wonderful… I’m so… proud of you. I can’t wait.” 

Alex smiled at her. “See, I’m not such an irresponsible, no-good, undisciplined…” 

“Now that’s unfair!” Lluvia retorted. “I never said those things.” 

Alex was surprised and immediately apologized. “Of course you didn’t. I was just thinking of what my sister used to call me, maybe even still calls me. I shouldn’t pin it on you. Please forgive me.” 

They hugged. Phoebe and Abby looked at each other and smiled, nodding at each other. They had guessed correctly. 

They drank their tea in silence. Alex looked around anxiously. “I know I haven’t been much of a host, but we do have a bed and two cots in the front room upstairs. Cali sleeps right here on the couch. George stays with Sara, Eddy stays with Stephanie, and Ishmael stays with friends I haven’t met yet. Isaiah and I have the back room. I hope that’s okay.” 

He looked from one to another. No one replied. “Please, we can change the arrangement if there’s a problem…” 

“No, of course not,” Abby said. “It’s all fine, please don’t worry, just wake us early. We’ll wear our new shirts and follow everything you do in the morning.” 

“I’m thrilled to be here!” exclaimed Phoebe. “Thank you, Alex!” 

Abby reached out and touched his hand. “Yes, and please don’t apologize. We’ll have a chance to catch up on the years gone by… maybe tomorrow afternoon?” 

“Oh, I’d love that, I’m so curious about all you’ve done. And by the way, I’ve got a print to give you tomorrow before you leave. I’d love to hear your reaction to it. I was thinking of you when I drew it. I don’t know what it means. It came out of a dream.” 

“I’d love to see it. And I loved your show. I even bought a print!” 

“You shouldn’t have done that! I’ll give you any print you like.” 

“That’s okay, I’m glad I bought it, and I’m eager to see whatever you want to give me.” 

“I’ve got to tell you,” Alex went on, “you’re famous here in Evansville. Everyone follows the news. You should know that people will try to interview you tomorrow.” 

“No, please! If anyone asks, just say I’m only here to listen. Tell the other staff.” Abby was very firm, and obviously worried. 

“Ah, I’m glad you mentioned it,” Alex replied. “I’ll bring it up early tomorrow. That’s the kind of thing Sara and Amy need to know. They’ll probably assign campus security to watch over you.” 

Please! thought Abby. I need to be invisible.  

Phoebe and Lluvia were looking at her. “We’ll stick with you,” Phoebe said.  

#ecofiction #environment #teenagers #green energy #novels #protectorsofthewood #protectorsofthewoodband #climate change is REAL #book reading #live music #Young Adult Novels #Environmentalism

[withlovingregards]

AU Yeah AUgust Day 11

Day 11: Mermaid

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Iclyn dug her feet into the warm sand, sighing as she watched the blue waves roll up onto the shore. She hated the beach. It was too hot, with no shade for miles along the coast line to hide from the sun. The water that most splashed and played in always got into her eye, burning it, and you just... never knew what was out there in the water. Every brush of seaweed was like a monster’s hand twisting around your ankle.

And yet, here she was, at the beach. Not of her own volition, though. Her friends had decided that a nice beach day was something they should do to get their minds off of work while they had the chance. The elf had told them how much she hated the beach, but she’d been shot down when she tried to offer a different idea. Even Viv had vetoed her idea of a spa!

“Are you just going to sit there and pout all day, or are you actually going to come swim with us?”

“Was I not clear when I told you I hate the beach?”

“How can you hate the beach?!” Shaela questioned, looking positively bewildered. Iclyn narrowed her light blue eyes at the tattooed elf.

“Do you really want me to go through that whole list?”

“Well, if you’re not going to get in the water, at least try to get a tan while you’re here.”

“I like being pale, thank you very much!” Iclyn shouted to the retreating back of her friend, who was running into the arms of her boyfriend. Cullen scooped her up with a laugh before he immediately threw her farther into the water. The dark-haired woman came to the surface, hair already tangled as she sputtered out some water from her mouth.

Ugh, gag her right here. Iclyn wasn’t going to be able to watch everyone having a good time while she was absolutely miserable. Sometimes, she really missed her home in the Emerald Graves, running barefoot through the tall grass and trees.

All she had at her disposal now was hot sand and sharp shells. Neither of which sounded very appealing.

Well, she did have another option.

Looking a little bit further down the beach, the white haired elf eyes the large rocks that littered the shore, ranging in size, though a lot of them seemed large enough to be their own cliffs. Rocks were rocks, right? Surely, they had to be just as rocky as the ones she had back home.

“It’s either climb those rocks or stay here and be miserable,” Iclyn said, standing up and doing the best she could to dust off the sand that was sticking to her body. Grabbing her beach cover and Cole’s silly sun hat, she made her way slowly towards the rocks, casting the occasional glance over to her frolicking friends. She probably should have told them where she was going, but she was a grown adult. She could wander if she pleased.

It didn’t take long for her to reach a nice little expanse of rocks and boulders, which were a lot bigger than she had thought them to be. Running her hands along one of the medium sized ones, her theory was confirmed. They were exactly like the rocks back in her homeland, and every other place she had ever touched a rock. Well, they were wet, but that was to be expected when you came to the beach. Iclyn wondered how far the water came up during high tide.

The woman searched for the largest boulder, which actually went into the water several yards, while also being a couple feet above the waves that crashed against its underside. Best spot if any for a climb.

Even though it had been years since she’d indulged in her childish past time on climbing literally everything she could, Iclyn could still do just that. She hadn’t lost the talent, and it was almost like her feet and hands knew exactly where they needed to go and how to angle themselves to give her the best grip. Every inch that she climbed higher seemed to loosen a weight she had on her shoulders, and when she finally made her way to the top, she felt all the annoyance of the day just melt away, and she could actually admit that the beach was actually very pretty.

Carefully making her way towards the pointed edge of the cliff like overhang, Iclyn dangled her feet over, holding in a giggle when the back splash of the breaking waves soaked the bottom of her feet. See, why would you need to go swimming when you had something like this? Looking over, her friends were spots in the distance, and she could see that Cole seemed to be back to the shore, looking for the hat she had stolen. At this, Iclyn did laugh, and pulled it farther down her head.

“Maybe having a day of relaxation was something I needed. We have been working pretty hard lately.”

Letting out a sigh, Iclyn leaned back until she was laying down against the hard rock, after all this time still used to the feeling of it on her back. Thankfully, it wasn’t too bright outside, with the sun hidden mostly by the clouds, some thick with rain to come later in the day. And as she listened to the world around her, listened to the waves roll up to the shore, fizzing with bubbles as it pulled grains of sand back into its depth, Iclyn felt sleep in the back of her mind. Surely, a nap here on the rocks would do her no harm. Shaela had told her to get a tan while she could.

Except, what had just been the waves before, soothing white noise to tuck her in, there was now something else. Something more... musical. But it was not something beautiful, but rather something sharp, demanding. And Iclyn found herself listening to that demand.

She rose from her position, standing up quicker and straighter than she ever had in her life. Her eyes felt unfocused, blurry, as if there was something blocking her from seeing what truly out there on the horizon. Pleased, the sound grew softer, a tad more gentle, but even more commanding. Iclyn could hear actual words in her ears now.

Jump, it whispered to her. So she did.

As soon as she hit the cold water, the voice in her head was gone, leaving her in a panic as she swam to the surface of the water, gulping for air she was lacking. It didn’t last long as the waves moved her, and Iclyn realized what kind of danger she was in. While the sea wasn’t so deep here, at only seven or eight feet, the waves beat hard here. Straight against the rock that she’d been perched on before.

Try all she might, she couldn’t swim away from her impending doom as the wave brought her closer and closer to the blunt edges of the rock. The moment she slammed into it, her back and head as a whole, there was only pain.

Before the world started to swim before her, Iclyn heard a deep voice yell “No!” But she went under, and hoped that this would not be her final resting place.

----

Thankfully, she came to sputtering, her head hurting like an absolute bitch, but after she coughed up all the water in her lungs, she was able to breathe with only the slightest bit of difficulty. The elf gulped down the air as deep as she could, turning on her side to cough out the water easier. A large hand on her back switched between patting her and rubbing gentle circles on the aching skin. With how much pain she was in right now, that was the best thing she had felt all day.

When everything seemed right in Iclyn’s world, she struggled to sit up, aided by the large hands, which ended up doing most of the work, she was so tiny in their hold. Brushing her hair out of her face, the woman finally turned to thank her rescuer from an untimely death, though the words got stuck in her sore throat.

Not that she would ever admit it to anyone other than herself, but the first thing Iclyn noticed was that the man was the most attractive person she had ever seen besides Dorian, but he didn’t count since he was on the same team as her. Iclyn had never seen such a large Qunari before, though she had met very few in her life. He was looking at her with genuine concern in his eyes, well single eye, since the other was covered in a leather eye patch, but that single look alone was enough to cause color to rise to her cheeks. So she looked down, embarrassed to be caught in such a situation.

Only to find that the man didn’t have legs to speak of. No, his body ended just below his hips, before flaring off into a tail. A scaled and muscles tail, perfect for swimming through the water at fast speeds. If Iclyn had been in the right mind, she would have told the Qunari that the pink scales fit his tone perfectly. However, she wasn’t in the right mind, because her brain was making it seem like this man was a mermaid. Merman? Was there a difference?

“I’m going to have to ask two things of you,” he said to her slowly in the voice she had heard right before she’d been knocked unconscious, “One, don’t scream, because that’s going to cause a lot of unwanted attention. Two, please don’t pass out, because I really don’t want to leave you alone here while I look for help, and I don’t have time to dry out to find your friends-”

“You’re... an actual mermaid? Those exist?” Her words sounded slurred, but she tried to keep herself as straight as possible, since the man had asked her so kindly not to pass out.

His worried looked changed as he let out a laugh, nodding his head to answer her question.

“We do, though we’re not really supposed to let anyone know that. But I couldn’t let that Siren spell you like that and have you for dinner.”

“Wait, you’re the one who saved me? From a Siren? There’s a difference-”

“Maybe you should slow down until your head isn’t pounding any more. I was able to stop the bleeding, but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet. But yes, I did save you.”

Iclyn blinked, trying her best to process all the information coming to her at once. She knew what the first words out of her mouth had to be though.

“Thank you,” she blurted, leaning in closer to the man so he could hear her better over the waves, “You didn’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s something you see every day, yet you just happened to be there to save me.”

“I couldn’t let a pretty elf like you just die. You seem to unhappy with the world to go so soon. Maybe it's time you find something that makes you happy to keep you in it.”

“Why was that the sweetest but also the saddest thing someone’s ever said to me?” Iclyn tried to mumble to herself, but had been loud enough for the mermaid to hear. The man chuckled again, which was when the elf realized that she didn’t even know the name of her savior.

“I’m incredibly rude. I’m Iclyn, the ungrateful lf you saved from drowning and also becoming food.”

“I’m Iron Bull, the mermaid that’s very surprised you’re not freaking out about this whole situation.”

“It’s probably the head injury,” the white haired woman summarized, shrugging even though it hurt to do so.

“Well, there is going to be one more surprise which I hope doesn’t freak you out too much.”

Iclyn cocked her head to the side in her confusion, looking over the man as he moved away from her just a little bit. Her eyed grew to the size of dinner plates as she watched the quick transformation she saw before her. The pink scales seemed to fade away to the same grey as Iron Bull’s skin, also separating in the middle to form two large, muscular legs. Along with, uh, something else.

“Oh my god, you’re naked,” the elf said quickly, turning away from the Qunari with a completely red face.

“Well, I’ve got this hat I can use to cover myself up.”

#AU Yeah AUgust #auyeahaugust #Dragon Age #dragon age: inquisition #DA:I #Iron Bull #my writing