#The edge of a cliff or a porch or a beach or whatever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeongi · 4 years

Text

cabin fever | jjk (m)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | fluff. smut. mild angst. exf2l au (?)

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, unprotected floor sex (dongs better be wrapped irl), light dirty talk, very soft, fluffy smut. jungkook is sad, soft babie.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two.

↣ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | cabin fever

“We're lost!” Seokjin shouts dramatically from behind the wheel. “Hopelessly and forever lost!” The van’s radio crackles and pops as the soft ooze of music sits underneath your friends’ bantering.

“You're such a baby,” says Namjoon as he smacks Seokjin with the map he's holding. “Relax. I know my maps.”

“You've only been here all of one time—” Seokjin spits back, his fingers clenching the wheel harder. You chuckle under your breath at their bickering, your body immediately tensing as you feel Jungkook adjust himself next to you. A part of you wonders if he’s still alive; you have no idea how he’s managed to sleep through the endless bickering- yet, there he sat, still snoring away. If you remembered correctly, Jungkook was almost impossible to wake up.

You ask yourself why you still felt somewhat nervous in Jungkook’s presence, and for the upteenth time, your memory reminds you of that giant nothingness that now separated you two.

Hoseok giggles behind you and your mood dampens further. His excessive, unwarranted giddiness irritates you on any given day, but today it seems extra warranted. How could you not feel irritated when your ex boyfriend is sat behind you, practically playing grab-ass with his new girlfriend?

You ask yourself again why you ever agreed to come on this trip, let alone agree to be stuffed in a van with an ex-boyfriend and an ex-best friend. And once again, you come up empty. You're sure there must be a reason.

“Hey, focus on the road!” Jyo-en shrills from the seat directly behind Namjoon. “Some of us want to arrive alive and unharmed.” Jungkook once again shifts in his seat, his shoulder pressing against your own and his mouth wide open. You can faintly hear the purrs of soft snoring escaping him.

Alas, your motives come to light. Frankly, you knew you were doing this as a favour to Jyo-en more than anything else. Her undying, one-sided pining after Seokjin had her on her knees begging you to go on this trip with her. There wasn't much that could ever reduce Jyo-en to such a state, but her affection for Seokjin's masculine wiles had been too much for her to bear. The fucker was just too damn charming and you couldn’t blame her either. From the broad expanse of his muscular shoulders, to the plump of his pink, full lips, you figure the chaos that naturally comes from his presence is usually heavily subdued by the sheer epitome of beauty that is Kim Seokjin.

Nonetheless, you had agreed to come on this trip, much against your initial refusal.

“Pipe down back there,” Namjoon shoots. “It could be worse.”

“Yeah,” says Hoseok, “Namjoon could be driving.”

Involuntarily, you snort. It isn't so much the humour that prompts such a response, but the bitterness you can't help but feel. However, that response is lost amidst the sea of laughter that now fills the van, save yours, Namjoon’s and a sleeping Jungkook’s.

Namjoon turns in his seat and glares at Hoseok. “Just because I don't have a license doesn't mean I can't drive.”

Seokjin chortles. “You literally almost drove us straight off a cliff the one time I let you drive.”

“You’re being dramatic. It wasn't even that tall a cliff…”

Beside you, Jungkook smacks his lips in his sleep, and sinks his shoulder further into yours. You absentmindedly wonder what he’s dreaming about.

Do you even care? Probably not. But the mental exercise in speculation offers some respite from the storm of emotion slowly and undeniably building within you. You glance back at Hoseok and Nancy, their disgusting buffet of PDA having no regard for anyone but themselves. You know for a fact you and Hoseok would have never done this. Turning away, your eyes once again fall on Jungkook.

You hope it's a dream better than this.

2:04pm [You]: ugh.

2:05pm [Yoongi]: Lol. What’s wrong?

2:07pm [You]: remind me again why i couldn't come tomorrow with you guys?

2:10pm [Yoongi]: Dude we've been over this, you couldn't swap spots with Jimin because he works tonight. It's the entire reason we're leaving tomorrow

2:10pm [Yoongi]: Is it that bad?

2:14pm [You]: between hoseok munching on his new gf and jungkook literally speaking to everyone but me,,, i’d say this is the car ride from hell

2:15pm [Yoongi]: Yikes

2:15pm [Yoongi]: Sounds about right, but I don't know what I can do from here...

2:25pm [You]: it’s whatever, tell jimin and tae i miss them dearly

2:26pm [Yoongi]: I’ll probably forget

2:27pm [You]: you’re the fucking worst.

You sigh heavily and lock your phone, haphazardly flinging it back into your lap. The van door opens with a whoosh and your eyes immediately squint against the intense albedo that now renders you temporarily blind.

“Did you just fucking hiss?” Seokjin asks, no trace of humour in his voice. You shoot him a silencing glare and he plays along to it, his hand shooting up to his chest as he fakes a few stumbles back. The effort to make you smile is that of triumph, the edges of your lips quirking up to a faint smile. Nonplussed, Seokjin continues. “Well, this is it!” He says with far too much enthusiasm for have driven nearly six hours. He reaches down towards the duffle bag by your feet and you swallow the bubble of discomfort that fills you when Nancy squeals behind you.

“This cabin is huge!” Her voice reminds you of Polystyrene rubbing together. It pierces your skull, scorches the skin on the back of your neck and you internally scream. Hoseok chuckles beside her and you can’t help but want to gouge out your eyeballs with a screwdriver.

When Seokjin swings the navy blue bag over his shoulder, his eyes briefly glance towards the still sleeping figure next to you, his face static in the grips of slumber.

“Hey!” Without warning, a red glove speeds past your face and smacks Jungkook in the nose with a surprisingly satisfying thwack. Immediately, Jungkook jolts awake, shooting you an accusing glare so icy, the snow around you may as well be a sunny beach. Before either of you can react, the glove’s partner in crime follows and smacks him in the face again. “Well, good morning, sleepy beauty,” jeers Seokjin. “Now that you're alive, how about you start helping us move our stuff?”

Blinking in the new light before his eyes, Jungkook sighs explosively, half yawn, half exclamation.

“It’s sleeping beauty, you imbecile.” You think you hear him grumble under his breath. A part of you wishes he’d acknowledge you again like old times. Another- and you convince yourself, a greater- part of you simply cannot be bothered to care anymore.

“I think that’s the last of it!” Namjoon yells from the trunk of the van. You hear him close it with a loud thud, one arm holding a cooler, the other locking the trunk. Seokjin stands by the porch of the cabin, nodding approvingly at the progress. He checks his watch.

“I’m hungry,” he says, “Should we go into town?”

You groan in protest. “Dude, we just got here. You want to hop back in a stuffy van and drive, again?”

“Yes,” he answers without a beat.

“Yup!” echoes Namjoon. You have no idea how he heard this.

“Ah, food would be so good,” Jyo-en says as she comes up from behind you, a hand patting her stomach and a frown adorning her face. You can't help but roll your eyes; she’s not hungry at all.

“Food it is,” Seokjin confirms. Despite the peckish feeling that jabbers at your stomach, you're not certain your appetite can handle another car ride with them so soon.

“You guys go ahead without me, I had a big breakfast this morning,” you lie.

“Suit yourself,” he says with a simple shrug of indifference. Turning away to head inside, you hear Seokjin yell for the others. You’re not sure where Hoseok and Nancy scurried off to, though the list of possibilities is disgustingly short. As if on cue, they near stumble out of the room they had chosen for the night, their lips swollen and clothing frayed. You think you’re going to be sick, and a subsequent twist of your innards does everything but confirm the sentiment.

You need to get out of here. You desperately need to get out of here.

As quietly as you can, you pull your boots on and stuff a spare water bottle in your jacket. The door before you opens, and with a breath, you crunch your way into the snow covered trees. You should have worn something warmer, you scold yourself as you cross your arms over your chest and blow out a huff of air.

The air is still- too still, you think. Even the melody of chickadees sound too far away. Your breath comes out in stiff clouds, hanging seconds in the air before fading away. You shove your nose deeper into your scarf as you aimlessly wander, allowing your thoughts to get as lost as you’re about to be.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost be convinced it was four years ago. The way the wind nips your face reminds you of waiting for the train at the worst possible hours of the morning, despite the fact you only had the one class that day.

The rest of the day was for the squad.

This could mean anything from half-attempted study sessions (in reality, a thinly veiled excuse to gossip about your classmates and munch on overpriced cafeteria food) to skipping down to the neighbourhood village just down the street from your university for the far better food that was just as expensive. It could mean sneaking off between classes to a quiet staircase and into Hoesoek’s arms for as many fleeting moments the two of you could steal in a day. It could mean a walk down to the university bar for curly fries and maybe one too many drinks. Sometimes it was the train ride home, hand in hand and falling asleep on each other’s shoulders.

The wind was just as cold as it has always been, but you haven’t been. Somewhere along the line, something had changed. A whole lot of somethings. At some point or another, it all just started to come crashing down until now you stand, here, in a snowy field standing ankle deep in fading memories.

You’d ask yourself how it managed to go to hell so much, so fast. But you don’t feel like opening that vault again— you’ve had it closed for good reason.

The piercing caw of a crow snaps you back to reality. Your eyes open, and the freezing train stations and too-warm classrooms fade away with the snowfall. You feel the first snowflake hit your cheek and when you look up, another hits your nose. Whichever way you go, whether it’s memory lane or the slow, cold walk back to the cabin, it’s going to be a bitch either way. It doesn’t take long for your boots to become soaked, and it takes even shorter for your toes to begin freezing. Your only regret is you find yourself wishing you’d have noticed it earlier; you were too preoccupied with watching the sun’s last stretch across the mountaintops.

Your laugh is what Jungkook remembers the most as you two walked towards the train station on those cold winter mornings. The light fragrance of your perfume that overpowered the icy winds had always made you feel like home to him. And your laugh, the thing he missed the most. When was the last time he’d seen you smile? When was the last time he’d even talked to you? It seems a lifetime ago now.

Jungkook’s fingers hesitantly hold the black pen against his sketchpad as he allows the natural skill of his hand overtake the paper. The desk he’s sat on faces towards the blanket of white snow against a crisp blue sky. He sighs, the view of the mountain sheathed in nothing but white bringing him back to old memories of you.

He can almost taste the pork bulgogi he’d always order at lunch with you. One look is all you had to give in order to silently invite him to eat after class. It was that cocked eyebrow, the slight tilt of the head and he was already transferring money into his bank account. And your scent- soft and subtle against the cold winter air. Even if his lungs were crystalized by the cool winter air, your perfumed scarf still lingered to his nose. You’d always felt somewhat like a distant lover than an old friend. What happened? He happened.

Just as Jungkook blasts his Spotify playlist through his earphones, you walk through the front door. Unbeknownst to you or him, the cause of your melancholy sits on the floor above you in his room. Your hands are freezing, a soft curse escaping your mouth as your teeth clatter and you stomp your way inside. You’re covered head to toe in snow, a sudden icy flurry hitting you on your way back. Perhaps a spontaneous walk down memory lane was one of your dumber ideas but if anything, it was nice to get away from this bullshit for even a little while. And by the looks of it, you’ll be able to escape a little while longer as you stand in the foyer of an empty cabin. You’re alone with your thoughts once again. How did you get here? You ask yourself a million times over.

Shrugging off the weight of your coat, you unravel your scarf and land with a loud sigh against the brown suede couch. It’s a cozy cabin, you’ll have to give Namjoon that much credit but his need to treat everyone as equal despite obvious differences landed you in this more than miserable situation. Your fingers hesitantly uncurl, the heat already uncoiling the ice in your veins. You reach for your phone, the only notification being a “Merry Christmas” email from your dentist. You almost laugh at yourself.

4:04pm [You]: yoongs, entertain me

No reply, instead a big fat, red “not delivered!” pops underneath the message. You frown, annoyed at the world and mostly Jyo-en for dragging you along this getaway from hell. On top of this, the three people you’ve been wanting to see and talk to the most in the world won’t be arriving for another excruciating twenty-four hours. Old Man Winter chuckles to himself as he prolongs your misery.

Jungkook is mindlessly working upstairs, watching the flurry of snow coat the mountains and area around the cabin further. If it weren’t for the gentle ooze of Keshi in his ears, he’d be concerned by the rapid snowfall. His hand works diligently, his sketch near finished as he watches the sun set outside. Somewhere between the last of his shading and perfecting does the lamp in his room suddenly give out.

Silence.

You freeze as the world surrounding you goes absolutely still. The sound of heat coming through the vents stops, the lights flicker off and you’re approaching darkness as the sun settles outside. Fuck, you think to yourself. This could not be happening.

Reaching for your phone, your fingers clamour as you hastily give Namjoon a call.

Straight to voicemail.

You try Seokjin; it doesn’t even ring.

Panic settles over you, your flight or fight kicking in as you think of what to possibly do. You scour the main floor for a landline, anything that could be of use in this situation. Surely there was a maintenance number somewhere? It’s when you’re in the kitchen that you hear the footsteps above you. You freeze again.

Now you’re almost positive it’s an intruder ready to murder you. Like in those horrible, terrible horror movies. Although you’ve played a lot of Outlast, you doubt you could handle whatever the fuck has spawned upstairs. As the footsteps shuffle some more, you grab a knife from the counter and decide if you should wait to be murdered or move towards the sound like every idiot in those movies. But just as you’re deciding, the steps move rapidly down the stairs until you’ve panicked and dropped your knife, shrieking out of pure terror with your eyes shut.

Jungkook stares at you in complete bewilderment.

“_____?” He cocks his head to the side, his eyebrows strewn together in genuine concern. His eyes fall to the knife on the floor, further confusion littering his mind. “Are you okay?”

The voice sounds familiar, too familiar and it pangs you to know exactly who it is.

Your heart plummets to your stomach when you tentatively open one eye and see Jungkook’s big doe eyes staring right back at you.

“Jungkook? What the hell are you doing here?” You put your hand to your chest and sigh a heavy breath of relief. “I fucking...thought…” You look back up at him, the furrow in his eyebrows suddenly flooring you with emotion. You haven’t really looked at him in ages, it feels.

“You didn’t go with the others?” His lips form an innocent pout as he asks. You haven’t realized how much you missed his boyish charm. It’s then that you find yourself observing him head to toe for the first time in a long time. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and (unintentionally, you convince yourself), the plaid red pajama bottoms you got him for Christmas three years ago. Is that how long it’s been since you’ve last spoken? He looks different, more confident, more tone in his body. Although his hair remains the same shade of brunette, it’s slightly longer and rests in natural curls. His jawline is even sharper, you note. From the small mole just under his lip to the faint cleft in his chin, you find yourself completely absorbed in how good looking Jungkook has gotten.

“N-no,” you’re suddenly stuttering as you catch yourself out of flagrant staring. “I thought you did—”

“Nope.” The tension brews around you two, both of you stood across from one another as sudden realization dawns on you.

“The power’s out,” you say and Jungkook nods in agreement. You really didn’t think this day could get any worse yet here you were. “I-I tried calling Namjoon but it wouldn’t go through.” Jungkook taps his pointer finger to his lower lip in consideration.

“Phone lines must be out too,” he said half to himself. “Must be a hell of a blizzard out there.” You shudder involuntarily as you remember the way the wind tore through you on the return journey to the cabin, and with the memory comes the bittersweet nostalgia…

You mentally stomp the memories out. Not the time, not the place. Not anymore.

“Well, I don’t want to starve,” you say as you start to feel your stomach glare at you hungrily. Maybe you should have gone with them after all. An image of Hoseok and Nancy sucking face flashes before you. You shudder again. It might still be hell here, but at least it isn’t a hell so deep as watching them. Besides, this is the most Jungkook has spoken to you in years.

“Fortunately, they left us with the food,” Jungkook says to you. “If memory serves correct there should at least be a box or three of smokies floating around somewhere.” He pulls on a sweater and rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm them up.

“What about the fire?” You ask.

“What about it?”

“Well, I don’t know. Can you start one?” You know for a fact you might be able to, but this isn’t the time for you to test your skills.

“Probably. It isn’t exactly rocket science,” he replies with a smart grin. There’s a small door just under the staircase that Jungkook opens with little to no hesitation. You had always admired how unafraid of the world Jungkook had always been. Perhaps those values washed away when he too walked out of your life.

You snap yourself out of it and roll your eyes. “Jungkook, you’re the least handyman person I know.”

“At least I’m remembered for something,” he replies as he dips below the stairs to search for wood.

You damn near have to stop yourself from smiling.

You’re not certain if it’s just the natural dynamic you shared with him, or if it’s completely circumstantial, but one thing was for certain; like it or not, you found the pair of you swiftly falling back in step with one another in more ways than you’d care to admit… and more ways than you’d care to remember.

It’s almost as if he hadn’t just chosen to vanish from your life for nearly three years. It’s almost as if it were like old times. What had happened to you guys? Why did he stop calling you?

For the umpteenth time, you snap yourself away from this. It’s too late. There’s no use in thinking of the past. You sigh and return to the kitchen, scouring, searching every cabinet and square surface for candles and matches.

A heartbeat or three passes, and a clonking of feet on wood alerts you to Jungkook’s return.

“I've got good news and bad news,” He huffs as he steps back onto the main floor from the cellar.

“Oh, god,” you start. You feel a slight panic coming on again.

“Good news?” He hefts a frayed and worn burlap bag. “I found firewood.”

“And the bad news?” You ask tentatively.

He feigns sadness before he brings out two giant bottles of cabernet sauvignon from behind his back. “There's all this wine, and nobody around to drink it,” he finishes. “Except us, naturally.”

For however brief a moment it was, you knew for certain that the flash in his eyes, the quick smile he now wore, you hadn't seen for years. It seems as though, if only for a split second, the old Jungkook had returned. Somehow sensing your revelation, the moment passes as swiftly as it came, and then a stone faced Jungkook returns.

“I-if you want to, anyway.” The coolness returns without indication, a coolness you are now determined to thaw out.

“I’m insulted you even think you have to ask,” you return playfully. A hint of colour returns to his cheeks, and a fraction of a grin returns. Silently, he sets about starting the fire while you work on opening the wine.

It takes you a second to realize that the wine is in fact corked, and you had not a corkscrew between the two of you. You glance at Jungkook, his back still turned to you, rubbing two sticks together or something. You really don’t know, and he doesn’t share; in fact, he seems quite absorbed in his work.

You glance back at the wine bottle. Taking the lapse in effort, you ask yourself if this was really worth doing- if this was even a good idea.

“Aha!” You hear a whoosh followed by a golden radiance that now permeates the space. “And that,” Jungkook turns towards you, grin wide and proud, “is how you start a fire.”

You’re not only warm, but impressed- leave it to Jungkook to be perfect in literally every department. You suppose he hasn’t lost that talent yet.

Though the feeling of pride quickly fades as you see the can of body spray in one of his hands and a lighter in the other. You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, silently calling him out on his middle school arson methods.

“It was ah, taking too long,” he adds sheepishly, rolling the can of body spray towards the corner and playfully tossing the lighter at you.

“Seokjin is going to kill you.”

“What for? Theft of his lighter, or his outrageous body spray? If anything, I’m doing him a favour…how are you making out with the wine?”

“We… don’t have a corkscrew,” you reply somewhat dejectedly. That half-serious face comes about his visage once more as you see him wracking his brain, trying to solve the problem.

His grin returns. “Don’t worry,” Jungkook says after a minute. “I have an idea.”

“What a waste of a fucking match, oh my God!” You’re sure to sound extra exasperated as you watch Jungkook wrap the loose piece of twine around the neck of wine bottle.

“Do you want to drink or not? Let me work my magic…” Jungkook wears determination on his face, a tongue poking out, eyebrows scrunched together as he ties it once, twice until you’re sure even a wine bottle could choke. You watch as he carefully takes a match and strikes it with the expertise of a pyrotechnic turned for the better. With little hesitation, he lights the twine on fire, a burning noose around the neck of the wine bottle. It doesn’t take ten seconds for the glass to crack open. He’s two for two; at this point, you find yourself enjoying his company more and more.

You’re honestly mesmerized. “How…?” You ask. He lets out a soft chuckle, barely audible.

“It’s magic,” you hear him say as he shrugs. “I don’t have to explain shit.” Another eye roll later, you’re returning to the kitchen and opening the cabinet above the sink in search of wine glasses. To no avail, you find stainless steel coffee mugs instead.

“Is this even safe to drink out of? I won’t choke on microscopic shards of glass?” You ask Jungkook after your third and fourth glasses. It’s a little too late to be asking such a question but you’re sure at this point, your words are a little slurred and nothing quite makes sense. Inwardly, you realize it’s a moot point anyway, and with that realization comes that for the first time in longer than you can remember, you’re just trying to strike up a conversation with him.

It’s hard not to when Jungkook has planted a pile of pillows and blankets in front of the fire, the pair of you sat and drinking potentially lethal wine. Before you lies half-finished board games you two attempted to play yet failed due to sheer anger at the game itself or each other. You’re sure if you were sober, this would be a lot more difficult.

“Magic, _____.” Jungkook slurs, his cheeks flushed and that half grin he does so well. Despite a certain flutter in your chest, you scoff into your mug of wine, small bubbles splashing back onto your upper lip.

“Magic?” You nearly spit. “This isn’t Harry Potter, Jungkook. How exactly do you personally quantify magic?”

A quiet moment passes as he swirls the final dregs of wine in his cup thoughtfully.

“I’d define it as the things you do to me, actually,” he replies before downing the rest of his cup.

Are you hearing things right? Did that actually come out of his mouth? Is this happening? You glance at your own cup. What the fuck is this wine, anyway? You’re drunk. Both of you are.

Jungkook stands and reaches for the bottle, filling up his cup before topping up your own. You still sit in a stunned silence, observing as he tosses another log into the fire, a shower of sparks floating up the chimney.

“Wh… Where did that come from?” You manage. He waves his hand dismissively, breaking eye contact a moment.

“Next question?” He asks as he sips.

Feeling bolder now, you pursue. He isn’t getting away that easily.

“Okay. I’ll put it another way.” You pause to sip, the confidence now flowing nominally through your system. “What exactly happened to us?” There, you’ve asked it.

A silence now spreads the two of you apart, despite the lack of inherent distance between you two presently. Now it seems to be Jungkook’s turn to be stunned into silence.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing this entire time,” he replies. The stone is slowly creeping up to his face.

“You can do better than that,” you egg him on.

“What, now you believe in me?” He shoots back. The venom in his words would take you off guard if it weren’t for how earnest his was before you. He drinks again, gulping this time. He must be on his sixth glass now. You can see the same sentiment in his eyes that you hold in your heart; a universal now-or-never. This is the chance to lay the cards on the table. You know it’s going to hurt, but you know it’s necessary. He rises slowly to his feet, swaying ever so slightly from the wine.

“How about you tell me what happened to us, _____?” Jungkook almost shouts. “We used to be close. We told each other everything. I used to stay up late just to make sure you got home from class or work, I made sure you ate your meals, that your homework was completed. I cared. We both did. Maybe a bit too much...” With this, he sighs explosively and flops down onto the dusty couch behind you, his chin resting on his hand. “We used to be something. I don't know what, but it was there. And now?” He waves an arm absentmindedly towards the window. “Nothing but cold.” The irony, you think. But it's an irony that's been a long time coming, and a certain sick irony that could only come from him.

But the question sticks with you, more than you'd care to admit. Something had slapped you deep inside, and even still it reverberated within you.

No, you're not going to stand here and take this.

“You tell me what happened, Jungkook.” You uncross your legs and rise to your feet, striding towards him. “You stopped texting, calling. You stopped wanting to hang out, and suddenly there was this wall between us. You never even told me what I did.”

For a moment, he looks hurt, as though a thousand predisposed assumptions has just come hurtling down. He regains his composure, though barely, and through shaken words, he continues.

“No, _____.” His face softens. “It isn't what you did. It isn't anything you did, not really.” He's nervous now; his knee bounces, his jaw clenches. You're fairly certain he's beginning to sweat.

What isn't he telling you?

“Tell me,” you whisper. No venom now, merely curiosity, and perhaps a hint of something more. Your hand finds its way onto his own, and your fingers slowly curl around his palm. Contrary to your assumptions, his hand remains there. Even more surprising, his hand reverses and his fingers interlace with your own. A heartbeat passes, and his eyes meet yours.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, _____. I don’t think either of us did anything wrong. Passing ships in the night? Too little, too late? Just bad timing, is that all? Hell if I know.” He takes a deep swig of the wine. “We vibed. Hard. Everything about us was natural and made sense.” You have to agree with this, even now, not talking after so long- you two felt real, felt right.

“No, Jungkook, that’s bullshit and we both know it!” You insist. “You stopped putting in the effort, you stopped wanting to be in my life, you….” It hurts you, a sinking feeling in your chest as you choke out your words. “You wouldn’t even look in my direction the past however long ago it was that you decided to walk away from my life without a single warning.” Perhaps it’s because you’re drunk that tears spring. It’s a deep-seated memory that you’ve brought back, a confrontation that you had always convinced yourself would never happen. “And I don’t even get an explanation why?” This whole situation had to have happened for a reason, you drunkenly tell yourself. If fate really was real, this moment would be its poster child.

Jungkook is staring at you with a look you can’t quite read. You can’t quite decide if he’s about to cry with you or angrily escape this situation. Instead, he places his cup on the wooden coffee table and stands up. His walk towards you in confident, as if he’s ready to expel whatever it is that riddled him in shades of torture for as long as it did. He takes your hands, a slight shake in the way he grasps them.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you with him,” he blurts.

A moment passes, your eyes unleaving as you try and process the weight of his words in your scrambled, drunken mess of a mind. You with who? Hoseok?

“Him?” You find yourself repeating. “Why would you…”

Jungkook sighs and lets your hands go, his fingers moving up to rake his brunette locks away from his face. He’s definitely sweating, you note.

“Wasn’t it obvious, _____?

“B-but what about after we broke up, you could’ve—”

“Could’ve what?” He laughs humorously. “Could have gone back to the way it was before?” He cranes his neck to the side, the palm of his hand rubbing against the skin. “It doesn’t work like that, _____. I’m selfish for you but not that selfish. Staying away was better anyway... neither of us would get hurt.”

But you were hurt, hurt more than the break up itself because at the end of the day, all you wanted was your best friend and even he had left. “You’re such an idiot.” You can’t help but say. “Stupid, stupid idiot. How could you do that?” You want to punch him, slap him as hard as you can for him to feel any amount of equivalence in physical pain that he gave you in emotional pain. All those nights you had laid wondering what you did wrong had all been for nothing?

Your frown deepens, more questions than ever before emerging. “You liked me?” Had you ever even thought of him as more than a friend? You’re not sure you should even be asking these questions with vigour liquor coursing through your veins yet, you remind yourself that the liquid courage has brought you two here thus far.

Jungkook laughs once more, no strain of humour in the vibrato. “That’s an understatement.” He then mumbles and you’re left racking your brain. For a brief second, it makes perfect sense before you completely lose your train of thought. “Besides,” he continues. “There’s no point in thinking what could have happened, I just—” There’s a pause as his chocolates in his doe eyes search yours for something. “Will you just let me kiss you right now?”

This takes you wholeheartedly off guard, your eyes widen as you speak with hesitance. “Y-you want to kiss me?”

“I’ve always wanted to, _____.” How does this phrase create such a powerful flutter in your chest? You wonder if it’s the alcohol or maybe, just maybe, a deep-rooted longing you;d never known you had in you.

Without answering his question, you kiss him first.

As your fingers reach for his face, Jungkook grapples your waist. You feel tiny in the palm of his hands, he thinks as he feels your lips against his for the first time. Jungkook feels as if he’s dreaming- perhaps the alcohol has something to do with that.

Red wine is what you taste the most, mixed with a subtle sweetness of mint. You drown in him, melt against him as he carefully engulfs you into his arms. The fireplace warming the space around is nothing in comparison to the sudden inferno in your chest. It’s then that you realize, this is what you’ve wanted all along.

Your hand slides down Jungkook’s face to his chest. He feels broad underneath your fingertips, a certain firmness to the touch that you hadn’t expected. He only brings you closer, arms wrapping around your torso as his lips press against you harder. His tongue is soft with your own, a gentle roll with your own as a certain heat builds up in your core.

Suddenly, it’s messier. Jungkook’s tongue swipes your bottom lip before planting a soft bite. It releases a whimper from you, earning a quiet groan from him. You’ve never thought this day would come. Are you dreaming?

When you pull away, Jungkook’s full attention is on you only. He runs a thumb over your wine-stained pout, his eyes large and completely enveloped in the sight of you. “I never thought I would get to kiss these lips.” He says.

You moan and lean in for another.

No matter how much your lips fuse together, how much you press yourself against his stronger hold, you cannot get enough nor do you want this to end. It feels right, comfortable to be in his embrace like this, his mouth against yours and chests connected. It’s not long before you’re both succumbing to the fall on your knees against the self-made bed Jungkook made of old blankets and pillows. It’s cozy, neither of you wasting time to run upstairs to a proper bed. You think this is the most romantic setting you could have ever hoped for.

It’s when you’re suddenly on top of Jungkook that you feel a growth settle underneath your core. You feel the sheer girth of it as your kissing intensifies, two large hands coming to rest upon your thighs as they persuade your hips to skim over it. You gasp at the feeling, sure that you’re already soaked beyond measure. It’s not hard for you to already feel him like this, the thin veil of his pajama bottoms being the only barrier away from you having it in you. The thought arouses you far too much, leading to a harsher grind that has you both moan out. You haven’t been touched in a long while.

Jungkook’s hands travel up your sides until he’s cupped both of your cheeks in each palm. Your lips are guided once again to his own as he places a hard kiss against you. With each fleeting moment, your want for him intensifies. You can’t help but think this was meant to be, that you’ve wanted this somewhere deep within you. Perhaps the old you was looking out for the future you.

It’s with both hesitance and confidence that Jungkook inches your sweater up. His hands feel warm against your bare torso, a shiver running through you when they lazily travels up and down your sides. As you pull away, Jungkook gives you that lopsided grin you hadn’t realized you’ve missed dearly until this moment. It almost feels as if nothing has changed, as if there hadn’t been a giant nothingness between you two for so long.

“You look so beautiful.” Jungkook whispers, his right hand reaching to push a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you guide your shirt off before a thumb strokes your cheek, and then your lips. You softly bite it and receive a contempt groan in response.

“Yours too,” you gently urge as you play with the hem of his white shirt. Jungkook grins and lifts his torso before pulling the fabric over his head. He does not hesitate to kiss you again.

With each kiss, the intensity grows until you’re sure you’ve caused a puddle in your pants as you shamelessly grind your cunt against a very erect bulge in Jungkook’s pants. He feels so firm, more built than you could have ever imagined as he pulls you tighter against him. You’re slowly losing your mind before you decide to take the initiative.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his mouth.

“Hm?”

“Let me taste you.” Jungkook nearly unravels just from those words alone.

“Yeah?” You nod, a coy smile spreading across your face as surely a heavy blush riddles your cheeks in a crimson red. Jungkook merely chuckles, planting a feverish kiss against your mouth. “You’re so adorable.”

You trail kisses down his torso, the definition of muscles in his abdomen driving you absolutely mad. You’re still unable to fully comprehend what exactly was happening yet you’re equally unable to stop yourself. Jungkook helps you get rid of his pants, your mouth instantly watering when his erection lands against his torso with a soft thwack. It glistens against the golden aura surrounding you. He cocks his head to the side. “Think you can take it?”

If that’s a challenge you hear in his tone, it’s a challenge you’re willing to take. You might even think Jungkook remembers how competitive you are. You move down his body with ease before placing a tentative lick against the head of his cock. Jungkook’s hands immediately surrender to your hair, moving it out of your face until he’s made a makeshift ponytail out of his own hands.

“Fuuuck,” he drags out shakily when you take the whole of his head in your mouth. You suck just under his head, a certain ball of nerves that drives Jungkook absolutely mad. The hold he has on your hair acts as an invisible guide, in motion with his hips lifting does he simultaneously move your head down. “Just like that, baby.” You groan against his cock as you take more of him in your mouth. Jungkook is thick, girthy with a prominent vein that sits right where your tongue can trace it. He’s losing himself further and further into you as you begin a steady motion of sucking. Your hand holds the base of his cock as your mouth works wonders, earning you whimpers and curses from him. “So good, so good.” Jungkook gasps when you pick up the pace. It’s when he feels himself really about to lose control that he pulls you away from his cock, a satisfying pop following the disconnect.

“C’mere,” he murmurs before smashing his lips against yours. Though your lips are coated in saliva, his kisses have become sloppier, rougher as he cradles your torso with one arm before flipping you until you’re underneath him. “These have to go.” He pulls at your pants and you giggle with agreeance.

“That would be ideal.”

Jungkook undoes the buttons before tugging them down your legs. You’ve now got nothing on but your bra, a pale violet with a lacy trim on the top. Did you subconsciously know you were going to get fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook today?

He pulls your legs apart, a satisfied hum escaping him as your glistening folds welcome him. “Fuck, _____.” He whispers as his thumb skims over your wetness. You suck in a sharp breath, the callous on his thumb sensitive against your cunt. You want him to touch you there.

It’s as if he can read your mind, the thumb now dragging over your clit. The sigh of relief you give only fuels Jungkook’s satisfaction more. He too would like to taste you.

You cry out, hands grappling for his torso as he begins circling the thumb over your sensitive nub. “So wet,” he groans.

“J-just for you.” This makes Jungkook move faster with his thumb. He wants to feel you. Jungkook slowly slides the defts of his index and middle finger into you, your cry filling the space. He takes his time, feeling your walls clench around his digits as his thumb simultaneously circles over your clit. He’s amazed by how each thrust of his fingers causes you to coat them farther in your arousal. And you’re amazed by how soon you’re about to come. It only makes his own erection angrier and your cunt clench tighter.

“You coming, baby?” Never would Jungkook have thought he’d get to call you baby. You nod with vigour, each pump of his finger along with the relentless rub of his fingers causing your legs to shake.

“S-so fucking close...oh my god.” You’re coming, you’re coming, you’re— “Jungkook!”

He dips his head in between your thighs, his mouth instantly suctioned to your clit as his fingers continue their torture. With his tongue replacing his thumb, you come undone almost instantly, the wave of pure white, hot filth overtaking your entire body. You shudder, legs trembling as your fingers thread through the lush of Jungkook’s brown locks. Jungkook continues licking against your clit, flicking and sucking until you can no longer take it.

“F-fuck me, Jungkook- please,” you beg as your cunt craves for more. You want absolutely all of him.

Jungkook’s cock is ready, heavy against his palm as he takes ahold of the base and spreads your legs apart. His mouth is wet with your arousal, his chest littered with beads of sweat. “Your pussy looks so fucking good.” He remarks, letting the pink tip of his dick rub against your wet folds. You both moan at the sensation.

With one more rub of his head, he lines himself against your entrance and slowly pushes his hips forward. You think you could come instantly again. Jungkook’s cock feels amazing, full as your tightness grips with so deliciously, even he has to hold himself back from not undoing quickly.

“Fuck.” You let out as you place a hand on his chest, letting the feel of his cock overtake your entire body. He stops when he’s reached the hilt, careful to rock his hips out before slamming them back into you. You can’t help but cry his name out. “You feel so good.” You’re whimpering, the hand on his chest and moving to the back of his neck as you push his head forward to kiss you. He follows suit, beginning a rhythmic pace of his hips as you lose yourself further and further into him.

Jungkook kisses you feverishly, hot and wet against your mouth as he continues to rick in and out of you. His breaths are laboured, filthy words and curses escaping him as you clench around him with each thrust.

“Yeah, baby?” You’re losing your mind, already close to a second undoing. You know you’re going to come again soon. Jungkook takes your legs and places your ankles on his shoulder, plummeting into you with a force so delicious, you’re about to go delirious. You’re so tight, Jungkook can feel himself edging closer to his own end. “Fuck, turn around for me.” You do as requested, turning to your stomach. Jungkook pulls your ass up towards him and lines himself up once again. Without hesitation this time, he pushes into you, a new type of fullness that overtakes your innards. He feels so fucking good.

It’s a steady rock, your ass hitting against his pelvis as he continues a continuous motion with his hips. He’s relentless in his movements, the new position allowing him to reach deeper, feeling you clench tighter.

“Holy fuck,” Jungkook is moaning out. He grabs a handful of your ass, using it as support while he rams into you with no plans of slowing down. The room is filled with the sound of your skin slapping and your deep breath and moans. Jungkook knows he’s so close.

He reaches forward, first and second digit immediately gravitating towards your clit. As he rubs, the familiar rubber band stretches in the pit of your guts. You’re going to come again, you feel it.

It’s when Jungkook whispers into your ear how much he wants to come inside you, that you give out. It washes over you, makes you tighten your grip on the blanket underneath you as you clench so hard around Jungkook that he too comes with you. You feel the spurts of him fill you to the brim until you’re nothing but a puddle underneath him. You lay still, letting his fluid mixed with yours dribble out of you as Jungkook pulls out. It burns to have him away from you. You want him to hold you all night.

“Was that okay?” Jungkook asks, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. You nod in reassurance, twisting your head around so he can kiss your lips.

It’s then that your phone blares, taking you both by surprise. You rush to your feet, arms reaching for your phone when you see Namjoon’s name flash across your screen.

“Hello?” You answer with no thought.

“_____! Oh my god! Are you okay? There was a huge storm, we’re trapped in town until Monday- did I ask if you were okay? I think Yoongi—” The line fizzles out.

There’s a pause as you look at a curious Jungkook.

“It looks like we’ll be here a while.”

a/n: hey babies! so sorry for the long wait for this one! i really hope you liked it! it’s been in the works for a little while haha. this is my first fic back in a WHILE! and more to come soon! let me know what you think as per usual. i love you so much!!!!!!! and happy holidays to you, your friends and families ✨💞

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts #bangtan smut #oneshot #fic #kpop

6K notes · View notes

fbfh · 4 years

Text

hey, sailor - leo x daughter of poseidon

genre: a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, a lot of mermaids lol

word count: 2.4k

au: none really, you have mermaid powers as a daughter of poseidon if that counts lmao

pairing: Leo x Daughter of Poseidon

requested: yeeyee !! hope u enjoy xoxo

warnings: uh brief mention of your step dad leaving when you were younger, an interaction with your best friend doesn’t go as planned, percy’s grappling with rlly complicated feelings towards his dad and new sister

summary: Percy, Annabeth, and Leo all get a little more than they bargained for when they bring Percy’s half sister back to camp Halfblood, and Leo remembers why he had such a huge crush on Ariel growing up.

reccomended songs: hurricane drunk - florence + the machine, sinkin’ in - cody simpson, deep sea ambiance

a/n: as soon as i got this request my dormant mermaid phase woke up from a sound sleep

requests r open uwu

"...And you know what he said to me? He says, 'kid, I think it's time you met your sister'. I have a freaking sister, and that two timing piece harpy sh-"

"Okay, Percy, why don't you cool off a little before we leave. Come on, we'll grab a drink or something while Leo finishes getting ready."

Annabeth takes her boyfriend's hand, and leads him to the nearest drink cooler. Leo turns back to the car they're going to take, and continues loading in the rest of the supplies. He, for one, is excited to meet Percy’s sister. His first thought was ‘hope she’s hot’, which he blurted out before he could stop himself, and was met with a killer glare from both of them. He’s not trying to be insensitive, finding out you have siblings you didn’t know about is kind of traumatic. I mean, hey, Leo’s family went from zero to sixty in one day - literally. Okay, not quite sixty, but only child to one of eight is still a pretty big jump.

A little while later, they’re ready to go. Leo offers to drive, so Percy and Annabeth can sit in back and try to sort out Percy’s feelings. After a couple hours of driving and emotional conversations, most of which Leo just listened to - Annabeth seemed to have a good hold on this, and Leo didn’t want to overstep his bounds again - they arrived in Cape Cod. At this point, the gist seems to be that Percy knows if he should be mad at anyone, it’s his dad. They park in the driveway of the address Chiron gave them. They get out of the car, and look up at the house. It’s gray with white trimming, two or three stories, with a balcony porch on the upper floor - a normal, small town New England house, as far as they could tell. They seemed to take a collective breath, and approached the door.

You’re breathing fast, trying to hold back the floodgates of emotion, when your bare feet hit the sand. You drop your bag, taking in the familiar, secluded stretch of the Cape. A big wall of jagged rocks to your left separates this part of the beach from the others. The old wooden stairs and their faded white paint that connected the low cliff to the sand below are hidden by plant life, so most people don’t even know this area existes. You’ve been coming here regularly since you were nine or ten. So many important parts of your life happened on these shores. You could just tell your mom ‘I’m going to my beach’, and she’d know right where you are. You finish pulling off your shorts and rush towards the water in your swimsuit. You’re met with immediate relief as soon as the water touches your skin. If it was possible to have an emotional support location, you did.

You feel it happen as soon as you’re waist deep. Bubbles and sea foam collect around you from the hips down and your legs get tingly and numb. A moment later, it dissipates, leaving behind a life sized mermaid tail. It changes slightly with most transformations, usually based on your mood and desired appearance, and you’ve noticed over the years you can change how it looks more easily. You don’t care today, you just need to be in the water. This time it’s a big tropical fish tail, its purple, blue, and shimmery gray tones reflecting both your mood and the impending storm clouds rolling in. You dip below the surface, and let the tide carry you a little ways. You don’t worry about getting lost, you somehow always know where you are at sea. You don’t have gills that you can find, but you can definitely breathe underwater.

You finally sink to the bottom, and stare up at the surface of the water. The patterns of light remind you of the night light you had as a child.

Your mom had ensured you were comfortable with water and ocean life for as long as you could remember. She must know other people like you, because sometimes she would have long phone conversations with someone called the Director. You were pretty sure he had a weird name that started with a K or C, but you could never remember. He’s apparently sending someone to bring you to a ‘safe place’ today. It sounds like bullshit to you, but you trust your mom, and your mom trusts the Director. Since you might not be back for a while, she said you could finally tell your best friend Wes the truth.

‘Oh god,’ you think, wishing the salt water would erase your memories of what happened today, but you can’t stop the onslaught of memories. Wes has been your best friend for years. You helped him when he realized he’s bi, he helped you when your step dad left, you could trust him with anything. Or so you thought. ‘It’s not his fault,’ you remind yourself, trying futilely to stop reliving what happened hours earlier.

You brought him to your part of the beach to go swimming so you could show him. You can still hear his voice, asking if you’re sure you want to go in the ocean, you’ve always been afraid of water. Once you’d worked up the nerves to get in the water and transform, you showed him your tail. Your heart broke again every time you remembered what he had said.

“That is... incredible,” your heart had soared, there was hope, “I can’t believe you got one of those silicone swimming tails just to prank me!” Ah, there it was. The other shoe. You tried to tell him it was real, but he said he could see the mold lines, and there the scales don’t quite line up, and there’s the edge of the zipper. You wanted to cry.

“I’m not gonna lie, you almost had me for a second. I can’t believe you learned to swim just to prank me, but whatever works, dude,” he laughed like you were having a good time together. It was too much.

You let out a huge underwater scream, and thunder rumbles in the distance. You sink further down, wishing once again that the salt and algae would erode your memories from today.

Annabeth knocks on the door for the third time. Thankfully, it opens to a middle aged woman in a shirt that said Brooklyn Nine Nine.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” she asks. She has a strong presence, and none of them want to be on her bad side. Percy is still too nervous, and Leo seems to be analyzing wires poking out of the doorbell, so Annabeth introduces themselves, and asks where you are.

“Who wants to know?” she asks.

“We’re her internet friends, we’re surprising her by visiting a day early.” Annabeth replies. The woman doesn’t seem convinced. She smiles, seeming to see right through them.

“Are you from camp?” The shock on their faces gives her all the answer she needs. She smiles, and continues, “She’s down at the Cape, the quiet part past the rocks.” They thank her, but before they can leave she says, “Hey.” She looks at each of them intensely.

“Make sure she gets there safely. Take care of her.” They agree solemnly, and head down the sidewalk.

“And tell Chiron I say hi.” she says with a smile. They smile back, agreeing again.

They get to the Cape, and it’s full of people.

“Shouldn’t be any harder than a Where’s Waldo,” Leo says. Percy’s head snaps to the right, and thunder rumbles.

“Did you hear that?” he asks.

“The thunder? Yeah,” Annabeth says.

“No, no.. someone screaming.”

“I don’t-”

“This way,” he takes off towards a pile of jagged rocks. They manage to get over with only a few scrapes and Percy surveys the empty beach.

“She’s here… She’s here somewhere,” he mutters to himself. The dark clouds part for a moment, and Annabeth points out to the water. Someone was there, pretty far out to sea. She could just make out their shoulders and head above the water.

“Gods, Percy, can you get her to shore?”

“Ah ah ah, uncle Leo’s got this one,” Leo pulls something out of his backpack. It’s bronze, and the size and shape of a deflated soccer ball. He throws it into the water. It starts to sink, then expands into a small bronze and wood speed boat. Percy and Annabeth’s jaws drop. He hops in, revving the engine to life. They sail out over the water, Percy directing them around currents and waves. They can see the figure clearly now, and they’re sure it’s you. You’re looking away from them, out towards the darkening sky. The boat starts to slow down, and makes a whining noise. Their eyes dart to Leo.

“It’s probably just a sticky piston,” white smoke leaks from the engine, “... and I should check the coolant, too.” He opens up a panel, and starts to tweak a couple things. He sits on the edge of the boat to get a better angle, and reaches into his tool belt. He pulls out a wrench, and almost in slow motion, feels it slip between his finger tips, and into the water with a light plip.

“Shit!” He covers his mouth, worried he scared you off. Three heads turn to where you were a moment ago. Gone. He feels that familiar shameful heat creep into his stomach and cheeks.

“Sorry guys, I-”

“You dropped this,” He looks into the water, and you’re right next to the boat, handing him the wrench.

“...Thanks,” he says, his heart speeding up. Your hair is wet and beads of water glisten on your skin. Your red bikini top sure isn’t doing anything to slow his racing pulse, either. Your hands brush as he takes the tool from you. You smile, and the clouds part - literally. A beam of golden sun shines behind you, making you glow. His heart is in his throat, and he knows he’s probably grinning and blushing like an idiot.

Percy stares at your head, poking up over the side of the boat. Your hair is dyed shades of blue and teal and seafoam that blend right in with the water, but your roots are dark. He takes in your freckles, your tan lines, and your eyes… they look like part of the sea - shells, or waves, or something. He watches as Leo takes the tool, and a smile appears at the side of your mouth - the same smile he’s seen in the mirror, the same smile he’s seen on his dad. He sees all these familiar traits and knows it’s true, you’re his sister. The realization hits him like a truck, and he’s suddenly choked up. Annabeth sees this, and places a hand on his shoulder. She looks between Percy and an infatuated Leo, and takes the reins for the whole ‘the gods are real’ speech.

“Hi,” she says, giving Percy’s hand a squeeze, “I’m Annabeth, this is Percy, and Leo. We were sent here to take you to a safe place for kids like us-”

“Ohmygod, finally,” the tension leaves your shoulders and you sigh in relief, “you have no idea how hard it’s been keeping all of this a secret, trying to be normal…” You push yourself up the side of the boat Ariel style, and pull yourself in, the edge of your tail draped slightly off the boat as you continue, “I seriously thought I was losing it for a while…” you trail off, watching them stare at your tail.

“You’re not… you’re not merfolk, are you?” The confusion on their faces says it all. Panic rises in your chest as you start to dive off the boat. Before you can, Leo grabs your hand.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We all have weird powers, it’s part of being a demigod.” He shows you his free hand, and flames suddenly dance across his palm. Part of your fear is replaced with confusion.

“A what?” you ask.

“A demigod.” you look over at Percy, who’s speaking since the first time since you’ve met him, “Our dad is Poseidon, god of the sea.” You scrunch your eyebrows, processing what he said. Annabeth smiles at the gesture, having seen her boyfriend do it a thousand times.

“Wait… our?” He takes in a breath.

“I’m Percy, your brother.”

The ride back to shore is a little awkward, to say the least. They had finished explaining about camp and the gods and monsters a few minutes ago, and it’s been pretty much silent since. Annabeth sits next to you, and hands you a water bottle.

“He just needs some time,” she tells you quietly, “Poseidon’s not really supposed to have children, and Percy got a hard time for it when he was younger. He also… he thought his dad was really in love with his mom, so finding out he has a sister so close in age…” You nod in understanding. She pats you on the shoulder, and sits next to Percy at the back of the boat. You scooch up a little closer to Leo as gracefully as you can, which isn’t much, considering you have to drag along an almost 60 pound fish tail. Leo looks over at you from the controls.

“Weird day, huh?” he asks.

“Yeah…”

“So how long does it take to, uh,” he nods down and you flick your tail, “de-fishify?”

You laugh.

“Once I’m dry,” you look up at the summer sun reemerging, a little surprised that it hadn’t stormed. Then again, if children of Poseidon really could make sea storms, it made sense that it had died down now that you and Percy were feeling better.

“which shouldn’t take long.” you finish. You look over at Percy, who’s having a quiet intense conversation with Annabeth.

“He knows I didn’t ask for this, right?” Leo looks back at them.

“He does,” he replies.

“It’s so surreal finding out I have a sibling I knew nothing about,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“Try finding out you have seven,” he laughs, shaking his head at the memory.

“Seven?!” your head snaps up to him.

“Oh yeah,” he tells you the story of when he first came to camp, and you feel so much better already. Leo has such a comforting presence, the pain from all your problems softens a little just hearing him talk. You have a feeling you’re going to get a lot closer.

Little did you know, the feeling was mutual - and correct.

#leo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #Heroes of Olympus #Leo Valdez #percy jackson #leo valdez x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon

375 notes · View notes

jane-the-zombie · 4 years

Text

Kiss Me Deadly || Felix & Jane

TIMING: Present LOCATION: Sharen Dickwell’s house on the lake. PARTIES: @streetharmacist & @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: We wrote this while BUZZED CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug Use, Explosion

There was something kind of funny about the way shame hit the second the sun went down. It became heavier and weighted, the reality of going to do something that was against everything Jane stood for hitting her just as she threw her leg over her bike. The feeling mixed poorly with knowing that she could die at any time. Since Kaden had told her what Regan’s death scream meant, the rush of death pumped raw adrenaline through her - a welcoming feeling. A feeling of freedom, of carelessness, of euphoria she couldn’t quite describe. But it also created a dulled sense of panic. Jane gambled with her life every moment of every day, choosing to do things most people wouldn’t consider safe so she could feel that rush. She had never let it affect her morals, but now in the wake of her possible death, Jane was compromising that so she could feel a rush she had never felt before. Something that was dangerous and exciting and something she hadn’t done solely because of her job. The voice in the back of her mind - the same one appeared when she jumped off cliffs and planes and pushed her motorcycle past 90 when she wasn’t wearing a helmet - told her that this was wrong. It was quieter these days, drowned out by Jane chasing whatever it was she wanted, and she silenced it as she pulled up in front of the Lakehouse Felix had directed her too. She pulled up front, parking her bike on the side of the road as she stared up at the house.

Jane had never been here before. She glanced at the mailbox. 70 - Dickwell. She grimaced. What an unfortunate last name. She told Felix to meet her out front so he could give her the drugs, and she could give him the money and that would be that. She didn’t want to see him and she most certainly didn’t want to hear what he had to say about what she was doing. Jane would just do everything in peace. As she leaned against her bike, she looked at the house. One of the porch lights was out, and the door was left open. Her eyes narrowed. “Felix?” Jane called, but there was no answer. Something was off here. Without another thought otherwise, Jane walked up the walkway of the house, and entered. “Felix? Ms. Dickwell?”

Sharen Dickwell wasn’t the weirdest client name Felix had happened upon in his almost-two-centuries of existence, but it was certainly up there. Very up there. Nearly up there enough that he couldn’t hardly keep from laughing when he passed by the mailbox. It was business he was after and his expression said as much. He didn’t often like to make house calls. They were too risky and leaned a little too close to russian roulette circumstances. He didn’t approach the Dickwell residence with concern. Not really much of a bother at all on his mind. There was a small back porch attached to the home that he waited on and looked out over the lake. Things seemed to be settling and that only said so much in a place like White Crest.

Sharen had given him the directions and told him to wait. Something to do with meeting her sister and she wouldn’t be gone long. Or was she looking for her wallet? He didn’t think much of it as he stood on the creaking balcony and took a small drag of a cigarette. Didn’t think too much of anything. Fuck, he was tired. Emotionally drained. His rumpled appearance said as much. Bloodshot eyes, suit less than perfect. Oh well. After this was done, he would be meeting Jane. That had him thinking and his brows furrowed. It was a little strange, her sudden inquiry into drugs. Especially after every arrest attempt he could recall. Heck, there were a lot, and that was just back in Portland. White Crest assured a few more. He leaned against the wood and looked down on the still water below. Flicked his ashes into the water. It had been a cool minute since anything from Sharen. He turned back to the patio door with a frown.

“Ms. Dickwell? Hate to tell you this, but I really don’t got all night.”

“Felix?” Jane was getting increasingly paranoid. She wasn’t sure if it was because of how on edge she was or if it was because this woman’s house was sort of creepy. It was neat enough, with white washed walls and semi-ornate trim along the walls that indicated that Ms. Dickwell was wealthy, but things were just… too clean. There wasn’t any sign that anyone lived in the house. Nothing was out of place, like it was on display for a real-estate open house or something. Things smelled sterile even. She moved through the house, checking each room, but there truly was no sign of life anywhere. She rounded off into the kitchen, seeing the big glass doors that lead off outside to overlook the lake. God, a house like this must have cost a pretty chunk of change. She didn’t envy the mortgage. Jane stopped though, thinking she heard a voice, but more importantly, she thought she smelled gunpowder. “What the hell -” As someone who frequently used her weapon, she knew the smell of it when it hit her nostrils. “Ugh.” And then she heard the quiet ticking. A timer? Jane rounded the island, and froze.

Resting on the island stool was a neat little device attached to an alarm clock. She looked down at it blankly. “What?” Jane asked it stupidly, just like she did when her step stool at home was misbehaving in its cage. Like it could hear her and listen to her. Except the clock was counting down from 35 seconds and she realized that even if she sprinted out of the house, there was no way she wasn’t going to die. The cultists at the beach were one thing, but death was another. Jane backed up slightly, her black boots clicking against the hardwood floors. She had no first hand experience with bombs. She had been on scene where ones have been found, but there was nothing stopping her. She couldn’t think. Everything had stopped. It was time. The inevitable.

As the counter went below 29 seconds she had a thought. “Felix?”

Felix started to pay how long Sharen was taking a little mind. Especially as the heat of his cigarette started to meet his fingers. Careless. He could already feel Bea’s eyes on him, concern alive in her eyes. She wanted him to be okay. He could try that, yeah. Even if it didn’t fir quite right. With that in mind, he adjusted his tie, lips pursed. It started to get a little silly. At the rate things went, he wondered if a consultation fee might not be a bad idea down the line. He paused to eye the ashtray. Clean. Pristine. Even the sticker on the bottom wasn’t touched much. He set it back upright and ashed out his cigarette.

“Alright, Sharen,” he said, an edge to his voice. “I think I’m gonna have to cash out on this. It’s getting a little foolish and I’m not in the mood.”

He shook his head as he stepped one foot over the threshold of the patio door. A strange yet familiar sound was in his ears. As he glanced over, a strange but familiar face was there too. Looked like someone might have gotten a little impatient.

“Jane?”

The clock continued to tick down faster than Jane would have liked. She didn’t know where Felix was. She hadn’t talked to Marley today - she needed to apologize for being a bitch. What about her dad? Her siblings? What were her last words to them? Why did it suddenly matter like she wasn’t going to be alive and kicking in 24 hours? And where the fuck was Felix?! Thoughts raced in her head and she saw where the fuck Felix was, his form in the doorway, saying in her name. Son of a bitch. A jolt of panic went straight through her as she met Felix’s eyes, her brown eyes wide. “Felix no!” she gasped, horrified. Just because she died and came back didn’t mean anyone else would too. She flew to him before he could say anything else, ask her any question, or say anything at all, really. Jane collided with Felix hard, slamming them both outside onto the deck. He didn’t struggle much as her arms wrapped around him, gripping him by his rumpled suit as tight as possible as she threw them both up and over the low railing of the patio.

Just as her feet left the wood deck, the house exploded into a deafening fiery mass. The ringing in her ears and intense heat of the explosion was hardly noticeable as Felix and Jane plummeted into the lake water. It took Jane a second to reorient herself underwater, watching as fire colored everything above the surface. She was still clutching onto Felix for dear life - life. Oh shit! They were alive! She exclaimed as much, and promptly inhaled lakewater up her nose and lungs. Jane jerked, her grip loosening as she started to kick and push herself upwards, chest burning. She wasn’t going to be a witness to an explosion just to drown afterwards.

With one final push, she broke the surface, spluttering and hacking water. “What - What - Felix! Felix, where are - Shit.”

Felix no? But what about Felix yes? Confusion hit him hard, the disorientation enough to lock his jaw up, and he could only stare at Jane as she ran at him. Wait, had she lied to him? No, she had promised and the way things went, she couldn’t just go back on it. That was an arrest tackle about to be mad if he had ever seen one. It didn’t bode well. Why was she running at him full-bore? All good questions that jostled in his head the minute she slammed into him. Shoved him straight back through the door he had walked in through and--there went the ashtray--straight over the railing. He blinked in the air and then the house exploded. The shockwaves and pure adrenaline from having walked into a house rigged to blow scattered his illusion. The heat of the blast didn’t last long as they crashed into frigid water. Water. They were in the lake. She let go of him and for a moment, he didn’t move. Dazed. He stared up through the dark to see the blaze overhead. It stirred him to move.

His antlers breached the surface, the rest of his head not long after as he spat out water. The dim lights of his eyes halved as he squinted. His glasses were gone. Or so he thought, until the broken frames floated up to the surface. He looked at them for just a second before he looked over to Jane.

“What the heck was that?” He looked at the burning lakehouse that they both had just readily been in. They hadn’t died. They could have. But they didn’t.

A large tree rose out of the lake as Jane coughed, treading water as she hurriedly looked for Felix. Oh. Wait. That was Felix. The tree was Felix. Her mind scattered, she looked back toward the wall of flame that had become the house. Holy shit. “Bomb in the kitchen.” Jane spluttered, coughing. “Just sitting there.” There was a bomb in that house. And she survived! She survived the explosion! She survived a mass of cultists and an explosion! She looked back to tree Felix, before her eyes widened. Felix wasn’t supposed to be a tree. Jane stared at him horrified. “You have a branch in your head!” she said, immediately concerned as she swam closer and reached up, grabbing the - oh. Jane stared as her hand circled around the antler. Tree Felix. Stupid. She was going into some form of shock. She looked back at the burning house, and then at Felix’s face with his glowy eyes. “.... Did you know you’re horny?” Jane asked, still holding on to them. “I mean, horns? I mean, antlers? Antlers. Antlers!” And suddenly she felt the rush. The rush from the fact that they just survived a whole explosion. Unfortunately, that made her start laughing really hard. So much so, she couldn’t stop.

His ears rang, that was a given, but it took Felix a long moment to acknowledge what she had said. Even as bits of the house floated by him. The house that apparently had a bomb in it. A sharp pain burned in his shoulder. Similar pain traced along his jawline. When he glanced down, he could see the black liquid wisps that smoked out of a cut in his shoulder. He didn’t bleed anything near similar to humans but what he did bleed was there, black ink in already dark water. He was vaguely aware that Jane was talking to him. Wowza, they had almost died and for some reason, he started to smile. The nerve shock of his antlers being grabbed startled him out of self-assessment. He stared at Jane, eyes bright circles of surprise. He blinked.

“Yes, Jane,” he said plainly. “Yes, I am fully aware that I’m horny.”

His head jerked slightly as she talked and he shut his eyes, prayed to some fate as he waited through it. They had just been in an explosion and the energy was, well, properly shaken. He could have died. And it was a funny feeling. When was the last time he considered that he might? As he pondered over it, she began to laugh and he couldn’t help but laugh too. Tired as he was. Exhausted as he was. It rasped out of him as tears of some nature or other leaked from the corners of his eyes. It really had been a month, hadn’t it?

“Criminy, Jane, they’re just antlers. Whatcha laughing so hard for?”

Jane was wheezing by the time she stopped, full tears coming out of her eyes, as her limbs burned from keeping herself afloat. Finally, she let poor Felix go, hand splashing back into the water as she stared at him. Something was starting to hurt, she realized. Her back, her right arm and hip. Was she bleeding? Shit. She was. Whatever. Felix spoke and that it set her off again. Her loud laughing pierced through the air, half sobbing as she cackled. “Holy - fucking - crap! I’m supposed to be dead! I was supposed to die! I’m not dead!” And then she let herself sink down under the cool water for a full 10 seconds. Reorient. Calm down. Where was all her police training? Well, she supposed she wasn’t here as police. She was here to buy drugs. Breaking the surface again, she took a large breath of fresh air, the nerves inside dancing under her skin as she looked at Felix, panting heavily. “I didn’t know you had antlers,” she blurted out, swallowing a half hysterical giggle. You’re hurt -” Jane registered, reaching out to him - this time not quite touching him. “Come on, to shore. Now. So I can take a look.”

It seemed to click for Felix as she said it. I was supposed to die. The bite. The burning dress. The one time he offered her drugs before and was sure he was about to get arrested. The time, right then, that he was going to sell her drugs and she promised he wouldn’t be arrested. She thought she might die. She risked herself for him. Even in post-explosion daze, he could piece that together. It didn’t leave him as the water weighed him. Exhausted him. With his antler free, he shook his head back and looked up at the moon. Even in his peripheral, he could still see the burning lakehouse. Sharen Dickwell must have really had it out for him. And to think, he almost considered not telling Jane about the lakehouse deal. To think he might have been scattered to every wind, no more a shadow. No more anything. A strange thought. When Jane resurfaced, he looked at her again, mouth slightly parted.

“...Holy cannoli, you saved my life.”

He moved with Jane as she guided them toward the lake’s shoreline. Mud on their hands and shoes as they crawled out of the heavy water. A quick glance at her told him he wasn’t the only one hurt. He patted his pants pockets, his suit jacket.

“Oh thank the fates,” he said, antlered head tipped back as he sighed relief. “The shrooms are okay.”

“Yes,” Jane agreed, because it was true. He wouldn’t have known about the bomb. Ms. Dickwell had to have put it there, and left, leaving poor Felix to his fate. Thank god she went inside. Thank god she’d looked around. Felix wouldn’t have survived - they were both hurt already. “You don’t come back,” she said, as if that explained everything. “You - You would have died forever.” They clambored to shore, the mud sticking to her leggings and hands as they pushed themselves up onto the lake beach with a low moan. Shit. Things were really starting to hurt now. She shook her head as Felix mentioned the shrooms, looking up at the night sky with a low laugh.

“The shrooms. They’re okay!” Jane said, sarcasm mixed with laughter as she sat in the dirt. She hissed in pain. Ouch. “Oh god.” Those were her shrooms. Her shrooms were okay. Shit. Luckily the burning house gave them plenty of light so she could properly see him. “You - do you heal quickly? How much pain are you in? I -” Jane ran a hand down her face. They were in a pickle, weren’t they? Jane shrugged out of her leather jacket, hissing quietly in pain. “Think I’ll manage.” She looked curiously at him, considering a moment. How many times had she tried to arrest him over the years for making comments lesser than that?

She laughed lowly. “At least something survived.”

A human had saved his life. Felix tried to get a grasp on that. He hadn’t even made her promise to save his life and yet, she had done it. As he sat on the beach, he stared at the mud. Dim lights blinked in and out. Why had he not considered death so greatly before? His jaw worked as he tried to think it over but he couldn’t. Jiminy Christmas, why did he feel so tired? Why was pain so alive in him? He hissed slightly as he dug into his shoulder. His fingers burned and his wrist snapped forward as he pulled out a decently-sized shard of something out. The way it burned, he knew what it was. Iron.

“Nope,” he said as he tossed it out onto the mud. The rush in him forbade him from anything but honesty. No word play to be found. “I wouldn’t have come back from that at all. You saved my life. I owe you a debt. You know that, right?”

He breathed in as he tried to center himself. There was more iron in him and ground his teeth together. Careless. How careless could he have been? Walking into some stranger Sharen Dickwell’s house like nothing might happen? Things had not gone well. Hell, he was tired. He took to taking out the iron shards he could readily get his fingers on. “It doesn’t feel great,” he admitted with a dry laugh. “But I’ll make do with all this, detective. Don’t you worry your not-dead head over it.” She bled too. What a human thing to do. “And your pain?”

He rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a slightly soggy blue mushroom. Glanced at Jane.

“So, not quite a painkiller, Jane. But it’ll get the job done.”

A debt? Somehow that felt wrong, but Jane nodded anyway, looking up at the moon. They were hurt and bleeding, and she probably needed to go to the hospital or something. Sooner or later, someone was bound to call the police. But this was the part of town where this wouldn’t get reported until the next day, and all the CSI’s would be shitty and cranky about it, and Marley and Keen would complain and ugh. Jane groaned quietly, stretching her arm and leg as she glanced at him. “I would have saved you no matter what, Felix,” Jane said quietly. There was something laced in the words that she didn’t quite know what to label. Were they truly friends? After years and years of her chasing him with handcuffs after one fateful evening of her torching her expensive wedding dress, all the quips and innuendos and everything else in between, were they friends? Jane didn’t have to think too hard on it, because she suddenly realized how grateful she was that he was here in White Crest too. Made the bad a little less bad.

“Well… I’m not dead,” she reminded with a wary grin, before wincing as she shifted. “But it hurts a fair amount. Ouch.” And she would need to stop the bleeding and clean the wound for whatever was lodged in there. Jesus. She squinted slightly at the blue mushroom he held out to her, looking down at it and then back at him, and then back down at it again. She had a decision to make. And as the house burned behind them, Jane already knew what it was going to be.

“Oh Hell,” Jane whispered to herself, holding out her hand for it. “I still want to do them before I die, I might as well do it with you, my friend.”

The little blue mushroom was dropped into her hand, and she popped the mushroom back.

#wickedswriting #para #para felix #felix #drug use tw #kiss me deadly

11 notes · View notes

benbarnesfrustration · 5 years

Text

You Can’t Win ‘Em All

A short Ben Barnes x Reader fluffy one-shot

Rated T: This one is all fluffy with some language.

Potential TW: there is discussion about body image and objectification, some angry wine drinking.

AN: I’ve often thought about, especially in the wake of the #metoo movement, what it would really like to be a woman actor in Hollywood, and this one-shot started to materialize in my noggin. It’s a super sensitive issue and hopefully I did it justice; I imagined that this is the sort of conversation a couple in “the industry” might have.

Prompt: I love the smut you've been writing, but can we have a dose of fluff? I just really need some sweet fluff right now.

Ben stepped into his condo in LA, tossing his keys on the table by the door. "Y/N, are you home?“ he called.

"Out here,” you responded. He found you out on the balcony deck. The house stood with its rear facing the sea, on the edge of a small cliff. There was a large porch suspended over the precipice, with a set of wooden stairs leading the 20 feet or so down to the beach. You stood leaning against the balcony railing with your back to him as he stepped onto the porch. You held a glass of wine in one hand and a wadded-up ball of kleenex in the other.

“There you are,” he smiled, and walked over to you, putting his arms around your waist. You sniffled. Ben leaned back a bit to try to get a better look at you. "Babe– is everything alright? Did your audition not go well?“

"No,” you murmured. “No it did not.” You turned to face him, and only then could he see your red-rimmed eyes and the tracks of tears upon your cheeks.

“Oh babe,” he soothed, hugging you to his chest. "I’m sorry. What happened?“

You sniffled against his shirt for a moment before pulling away, wiping your eyes hastily with the tissue in your hand. "It was going wonderfully. And I’m not just saying that– I know I fucking nailed it. And then the casting director had the gall to look at my face and tell me…” you broke off as you fought tears.

Ben ran his hands along your arms, making soothing noises. "Shh, darling, don’t cry anymore. What did he say to you?“

You took an angry swig of your wine before you continued. "He told me I’d be perfect– if I lost twenty pounds.” You took yet another gulp of wine as Ben’s mouth fell open with shock.

“But–” he stammered. "But that’s insane! There’s nothing wrong with the way you look!“

You laughed bitterly. "I mean, I’ve always been comfortable with my body, but apparently there’s a casting director who feels differently.“

Ben seemed, for once, to be at a total loss for words. After a moment he shook his head and gathered himself. "I want to beat his ass right now. Where’s this guy’s office?”

You laughed, somewhat touched. “Knock it off. As much as I’d love to have you throttle the bastard, he’s not worth it.”

Ben smiled wryly. “Fine fine. But you can’t listen to that idiot. You know you’re perfect.”

“Please, Ben. Nobody’s perfect.”

“That’s not what I mean. You are to me, and you are to YOU, and that’s all that matters.”

“But it does matter,” you cried, your voice breaking. "Things have been going so well with my career. I know that there can be real assholes in the industry, but I just thought I had established myself enough that I didn’t have to jump through these ridiculous hoops!“ You finished the last bit of wine in your glass and had to fight the urge to throw it off the balcony. "Pardon the cliche, but I feel so...objectified!”

Ben shook his head sadly. “It’s not a cliche if it’s true. I know, love. Believe me, I do. I had a terrible time in the beginning– I’ve told you some of the stories... the shit that people expected me to do; the things that people said about me. But I kept going, and you will too.” he grasped your arms and bent to look directly into your eyes. "That Mike Crane or whatever his name is, is a damned fool. Don’t let assbags like that get you down.“

You sniffled, but managed a small smile. "Assbag?”

He nodded. “Yes babe. He is a total fuckwit assbag.”

You giggled, and Ben’s face lit up in a huge grin. It faded quickly as his expression turned serious. "I love you, you know. With all of my heart, body and soul. I’d be lost without you. Do you believe that?“

You chuckled softly, without humor. "Sometimes I actually do have trouble believing it; that you’re all mine.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s the truth,” he said, placing a soft kiss on your forehead and smoothing your hair away from your face. "You must not let this industry change you. You are beautiful and amazing, and you should always remember that.“

You felt that you could melt away into a puddle at his words. "I love you Ben. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Nothing. You bewitched me just by being you.”

He pulled you tightly to him again, and held you for a moment. You sighed against his chest, drinking in the scent of him, and realized that the majority of your anguish had been dispelled. It was nearly impossible to remain upset in Ben’s presence; the man was quite literally a walking ray of sunshine.

You looked up into his dark eyes and smiled. He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Feel better?“

"Yes, actually. You always know how to cheer me up-- thanks for that. I just wish dealing with jerks wasn’t part of my job.”

He sighed in acknowledgement. "I know darling. This town is pretentious and fake, and everyone is only out for themselves. But we soldier on. By the way, thank you for not throwing your wine glass off the balcony.“

That surprised you. "How did you know I was thinking of doing that?”

“I know you better than you realize, babe. Also, you looked at the sand and raised your arm ever so slightly–”

“Shut your mouth,” you said, and tickled his waist. He darted away, laughing. "I ought to throw YOU off the balcony!“

He grinned. "Would you settle for throwing me into bed instead? I’ve had a long day, and I haven’t seen you naked in…oh, nine hours.”

“It’s a deal,” you said, and he threw his arm over your shoulder. You walked to the house together, but you had to separate to walk through the doorway. As you stepped in front of him, he gave your butt a light smack.

“Hey, nice ass,” he said. "Don’t ever change it.“

"You’re going to get it,” you cooed, and tickled him again. He ran off, laughing, and you gave chase.

A couple taking a nighttime stroll below on the beach looked up, startled, at the sounds of giggling and bellowing laughter that drifted down upon them from above. “Someone up there is having a good night,” one said to the other.

It was true.

#ben barnes x reader #ben barnes fan fiction #ben barnes

229 notes · View notes

katiehavok · 4 years

Note

👀

::Cracks knuckles::

So, I love Newt. Like, a lot. I love him because I relate to him on so many levels, and I love how he’s been handled in canon (so far), up to and including his curmudgeonly ways because ho boy, can I relate. I also really, really love Tina, and putting them together?

Bliss.

Of course, me being me, I got to thinking: what if Newt and Tina never did get together in canon? What if CoG went in a completely different direction, or even the ending of the first movie? Or, even worse (because this is me) what if something happened that caused Newt to hare off to be on his own because of [insert convenient and contrived fanfic catastrophe here] and Newtina had to still come together when one part of the equation is fighting against it with every fiber of his being? What then?

Then my brain did what it does best and shit got really grimdark, really fast, and even though I wrote a good chunk of the fic, I ended up walking away because I managed to scare myself off of the idea.

So, have the entire first chapter of that fic (working title: “Mephistopheles”), in all it’s unedited glory since your request has been in my inbox the longest and I doubt I’ll ever return to this piece.

You’re welcome. :D

—–

July 1932

Tina lands on the solid ground of Drear, and looked around curiously while tucking her wand and the portkey — an old, rusty nail — into her jacket pocket.

There isn’t much to see. A thin scree of rocky beach trails down to water the color of dirty undergarments, scrub grass and weeds growing between the crowning monolith of stones that lead inland. Thick fog hangs over all, and she turns in a tight circle, using landmarks to memorize where she’s appeared, before straightening and picking along the thin, sandy trail that leads to the heart of the island.

It’s tough and slow going, and she’s inwardly thankful for her weekends spent on the Quidditch pitch and long, daytime excursions with Professor Merrythought into the Forbidden Forest for granting her newfound stamina. Steady flicks of her wand clear what little overgrowth there is on the foot-worn and obviously well-beaten trail. The sun is directly overhead when she conquers the sloping cliff, and she holds her breath while cresting it, only to frown when she discovers that she’s stumbled upon more of the same.

The island is spread before her, a landscape of sharp cliffs, thin grass, the rough border lapped by the hungry sea. There’s no sign of life or human habitation, and she squints at the opposite end of the land before sighing tiredly.

“A map would have been pretty helpful right about now, old man,” she grumbles to herself, and squares her grip on her small suitcase before continuing.

Her short sojourn brings her to the edge of a narrow field, and she reaches for her wand on instinct before stepping into it. The tingle of powerful wards is the only warning she gets before the field seems to open around her, unfolding like a flower until she’s staring upon row after row of what looks to be plants. She glances down to make sure she isn’t standing on one, relieved to find that isn’t the case, and carefully picks her way between them while rolling her wand between her fingers.

“Hello?” she calls in a low but even voice, eyes peeled for the human who had obviously domesticated this island. There’s no response but the hoot of wind around the craggy cliffs, and she turns a full circle before spotting the small, sloped cabin tucked beneath a rocky overhang, thin smoke drifting from the crooked chimney.

“Gotcha,” she breathes, sheer relief at finding her quarry making her heart skip a beat. She tucks her wand away and heads toward the narrow front door of the building, climbing the creaky steps and debating whether or not to peek into the dark front window before dismissing it. She takes a few slow, deep breaths and sets down her case before gathering her courage and knocking, trying not to flinch at the hollow sound of her knuckles over the wood.

There’s a clatter from within, as well as what sounds like an admonishing shout. Intrigued, Tina tilts her head and leans forward, straining her ears — only to jolt back a step when the door is wrestled open. Her foot tangled in the dusty welcome mat, and her teeth connect with the side of her tongue, filling her mouth with blood when she goes down hard, landing flat on her ass and sending her case flying across the narrow porch.

A shape moves into the frame of the door, and she looks up balefully to find a man staring down at her in obvious confusion, his hands hanging in loose fists at his side.

“You aren’t professor Dumbledore,” he says blankly, and squints into her face before his eyes widen with shock. He moves back half a step in an eerie mirror of her, his slender hands clinging to the doorway as the air seems to leak out of him, his strange blue eyes riveted to her face.

“Tina?” he asks in a faint voice, his lips turning pale.

“That’s Miss Goldstein to you,” she snaps, gathering her resolve and her dignity before climbing to her feet, clutching the shaky porch railing for balance. “It’s good to see you received Professor Dumbledore’s letter, after all, Mr. Scamander,” she bites out while brushing off the seat of her trousers. “It would have been nice if you had though to reply to him, though.” She can almost feel the sarcasm dripping off her words, and she refuses to feel guilty for it when she straightens her hat and looks at him defiantly.

Mr. Scamander frowns, his brow furrowing when he crosses his arms defensively and leans against the door jam. “What letter?” he asks crisply. “And, since we’re on the subject, why exactly are you here?”

She scoffs before gesturing around her. “I don’t even really know where here is,” she says frustratedly, “and I’m here because Dumbledore sent multiple letters, only to have them all returned unopened. He was tired of you avoiding him and decided to send me in place of an owl.”

Scamander stands up straighter. “Here would be the Isle of Drear,” he mumbles, his shoulders tensing when she reaches into her jacket. She retrieves nothing more dangerous than a thick envelope, however, and Tina extends her arm to offer it to him, trying not to roll her eyes when he does nothing more than stare at it blankly. She watches him steadily, only now noticing that his wash-softened white shirt was unbuttoned to mid-chest, his striped braces hanging loosely around his waist. She feels her cheeks heat up, and curses herself for a fool before forcing herself to look at his messy hair. It’s more reddish than the small picture on the back of his book would suggest, and far longer than was considered acceptable for a man, hanging low in his face and curtaining his eyes from view.

“I have a signed copy of your book, you know,” she blurts for want of anything else to say, considering it a minor victory when Scamander breaks his staring contest with the envelope to look up at her confusedly. “One of the earliest first editions. It’s signed and everything. By you, I mean. My sister gave it to me as a gift.”

“Sister?” he echoes, and Tina is seriously beginning to wonder if the much admired and lauded Newt Scamander, Magizoologist and expert of all things beast-related, may not be a simpleton. His strangely monosyllabic answers and obvious confusion certainly suggest it, and yet there’s a certain deja-vu to this scenario that forces her to push the consideration to the side for now and focus on him.

“My parent’s other daughter,” she says patiently and lowers her aching arm to try another tactic. “Listen, it’s pretty chilly out on this porch. What say you and me go inside your place and we’ll talk about why I’m here, like civilized people. I’ll even be nice to you.” She manufactures her most winsome smile, the one Queenie had always privately urged her to use — Smile, Teenie! It confuses people! — only to sigh when Scamander dips his head and reaches for the door.

“No, thank you,” he says quickly. “I’m afraid I have nothing to say to you, and I’m not at all interested in anything you or Dumbledore may have to say. Good day to you, Miss Goldstein.”

She throws herself forward to wedge her foot between the door and the frame, wincing when the heavy wood pinches her from both sides. “I’m not leaving until I’ve done my job,” she says pleasantly. “I’ve got a cabin, a wardrobe, and enough food to last a year in my case, along with orders to stay until you sit down and listen to what I have to say.” She looks into his dismayed blue eyes, smiling sharply when his shoulders sag. “So really, it’s in your best interest to talk to me now, so I can return to civilization and can return to…whatever it is you do here.”

Scamander huffs before widening the crack of the door and looking into her eyes. He says her name softly, and she leans forward in anticipation. “Yes?”

He hesitates a moment, and she can see the conflict in his eyes before he hardens his resolve and uses his own booted foot to gently nudge hers away. “Enjoy your holiday on the Isle of Drear then,” he says firmly, “though I’d suggest you stay away from the northernmost tip unless you wish to find yourself on the wrong rung of the food chain. That’s where I’ve managed to corral the MacBoon’s.”

“The Mac-what’s?” she asks, only to huff in frustration when the door slams between them, cutting their terse interaction short. “Don’t think you’ll be rid of me that easily!” she shouts through the heavy wood, and growls to herself when the only answer she receives is the pointed and heavy snik! of a bolt sliding home. “Of course.”

The porch steps creak tiredly when she descends them, not bothering to watch her footing when she trods across his field, only to stop and look back when her scalp tingles with the curious sensation of being watched. The windows are as dark as ever, however, staring back at her like empty eyes, and a sudden gust of wind makes her shiver and pull her leather coat more tightly around her, further steeling her determination.

She finds a relatively flat parcel of land just outside his wards. There are no natural features to break the wind but she can’t fathom how that could be a problem, and it is within sight of his own cabin and, more importantly, it’s front door. Tina opens her case and brandishes her wand with the confidence of long practice, magically constructing the tiny cabin she and Professor Dumbledore had put together back at Hogwarts. She fills it with the meager furniture she had brought along before constructing a small shed to store her food and adding a wide front porch. She smiles at the results, conjuring a cozy curl of smoke from her chimney — standing straight and tall, thank you very much! — before nodding her approval.

Tina spends the rest of the day getting the cabin in order and formulating a plan of attack. She takes her simple evening meal on her front porch, washing down bread and meat with water and watching the cabin a short distance away from her for signs of life. There are none until the sun begins to fade, earlier than she would have expected. Then, curtainless windows of Mr. Scamanders abode brighten from within, and she watches him assemble and take his own supper before apparently settling down to read. His mouth moves on occasion as if he is speaking to someone, and she mentally takes note of the quirk, only for her mouth to go dry when Mr. Scamander unceremoniously sheds his clothing — treating her to an expanse of surprisingly toned and freckled skin — before taking a bath.

Something nudges at her then, making her frown, but she ignores it to focus on him. Bathing apparently finished, she tries not to stare too hard when he towels off and quickly finger combs his hair before crossing to one of the windows facing east, away from her. There, he stands and looks out over the dark island for nearly an hour, and Tina wonders what a man like him would spend so much time thinking about until he abruptly walks a circuit of the cabin and douses the lights before climbing into his narrow bed. His windows go fully dark, cutting off her view of him, and Tina gnaws on a fingernail in thought before pushing him, his cryptic words and his frustrating lack of…well, anything for her to go off of to use her wand and clean up her meal.

It isn’t until she’s climbed into her own bed, warmed with a simple charm, that the mental nudge turns into her a prod and then, naturally, into a realization that keeps her staring up at the ceiling well past the moon’s zenith, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

Mr. Scamander was magical, there was no doubt in her mind about that. She had sensed it on him before he’d even opened the door. And yet, for all the times she had observed him this day, both on his porch and from the comfort of her own temporary home, she had not seen him use a single spell or incantation or, indeed, wield a wand at all.

“What would cause a wizard as powerful as you to turn your back on magic?” she whispers and is unsurprised when the dark offers no answer save the forlorn hoot of the wind around the eaves.

—–

Send me a 👀 and I’ll post a snippet of art/writing that I never got around to finishing this year.

#newtina #fantastic beasts #fbawtft #fbtcog #wip meme #wip prompts #ask meme #ask prompts #wips #katie havok writes #unfinished wips #probably never to be continued (rip)#but enjoy it! and sorry for the wait!#siri-wan-kenobiwan

14 notes · View notes

taezhu · 5 years

Text

oceanid!taeyong

soft, cute boy that sits by the sea every day

he notices you on the third time you’ve been to the beach and decides to approach you

because, he thinks he can use your apparent love for the ocean to talk to you

he sits beside you on the sand and smiles softly

quite soon forgetting every single word he knows

so he ends up staring at you for a few moments before finally asking you what you like about the ocean

he ends up in an awkward position when you tell him you actually hate it, you just like coming here because it’s calm

and yeah, he’s a little disrespected because that’s his element!

but you explain that you’re kind of afraid of the sea creatures and everything in there and he tries to understand

tries being a key word because it doesn’t work really well

because he understands why you’d hate some of those weird creatures that ten put in the ocean

I mean... what was the idea behind jellyfish?

angry little creatures who attack him for no reason...

he supposes that ten was angry that day

but then he starts to think of all the nice creatures and he is like ???

“but some are nice, have you seen starfish? dolphins? seahorses? there’s so many”

“I can take you to this place where there’s lots of them! crabs too”

taeyong is a little disappointed when you turn him down

and that you walk to the other side of the beach the next day to avoid him

but when he talks to jungwoo he realises it’s because he was a bit weird to approach you like that

so taeyong tries again

starting by making sure the tide stays out a little longer so you get more chance to sit there

and he waits until there’s a lot of other people around before next approaching you to talk

“sorry about last time. I don’t talk to a lot of people and i... I’m taeyong”

“I see you here every day and I always end up wondering why you come here”

“especially if you don’t really like the ocean, I guess”

taeyong finds out you're here because you can take your mind of other stuff

and taeyong is innocent at first

he doesn’t have the real world like you do, he’s a nymph, he watches over the water and that’s it

so when you start explaining that you got fired from your job

that you’re having problems with everyone you know

taeyong takes a while to fully understand why you’d need an escape

but it does click, and he realises that he should try to help you too

so he waits until the next day and makes you some lunch. he makes sure it’s vegetarian, just in case you won’t like it

and you both end up having lunch on the rocks

“this is where I said that the starfish were. do you want me to find you one?”

he found you one

it's a pretty deep blue with dots in the middle and you’re sure that he must have been very lucky to just pull one of those out

but taeyong is basically in charge of these creatures, so he knows what he’s doing and how to call them

taeyong has an army of fish on the off chance you’d want to see one around

anyway, he’s so delicate with anything related to the sea

you notice when he sees a crab running from a seagull and places it in the rockpool nearby

also when one day he would sit with some kids teaching them about the wildlife and what they can find around the beach

you figure he must be the owner of the land, passed down to him from his parents

because he comes out of the most beautiful white cottage just on the hillside from the coast

nothing big, but it’s definitely a house worth more than money

he invites you back there one day thinking you’ll say no since he doesn’t expect you to do anything else

taeyong may be one of the older nymphs, but he had spent so much time at sea that he never saw humans

he only knew doyoung and jungwoo, like they were anything to go off of

so taeyong is a little quiet, a little naive and very sensitive

he’s overjoyed when you agree to go back to his for some food

and he promises that he doesn’t mean to keep you there showing you all the things he’s collected over the years

he has so many artefacts, crystals, items from shipwrecks, all over

he even has things that you’re sure are meant to have been lost forever, like this jade bracelet

a necklace which is more beautiful than anything you’ve seen before

there’s so much there that it’s almost 11pm that he finally stops talking and realises that day has turned to night

“no no, please don’t go home in the dark. we’re in the middle of no where and something might happen to you”

“if you need to go then I can walk with you until you’re near some other people?”

“then if you don’t want me to walk you, will you stay here tonight? I'll sleep on the couch”

taeyong doesn’t have a TV

he doesn’t even have electricity actually, you notice

everything is lit by candles and a pretty oil lamp in the corner of the room

it’s dangerous, but taeyong assures you that his place is safer than the average place

and you trust him on that, for whatever reason it is at the time

but because he has nothing inherently ‘modern’ you both have to talk

and taeyong is so interesting

he thinks the exact same of you

he starts telling you about his affiliation to the ocean and eventually goes into his past stories

missing out the part where he tells you he’s a nymph, but that comes

you end up telling him your story, how you ended up where you are

and taeyong wants to help you out

because he knows when people don’t deserve what they’re given and you seem to be in that situation

so he does end up haechan’s back about helping you out possibly in the future

but for the time being, he listens to every word you have to say and takes it all in

and when you’re both sitting on the porch of the cottage staring up to the stars he starts to tell you about the sky deities

and you’re a bit confused as to what he’s talking about but he starts to tell you about what you believed to be mythology

about Jupiter, Juno and Nox, and some other gods you’d never even heard of like luna and aurora

that they all control the skies

and then he gets into the water deities and you start realising that damn

this guy literally knows everything

so you ask him why he knows all of this and he tells you

“well, I am an oceanid so I have to know. if I don’t they’ll all get pretty mad”

“an oceanid is an ocean nymph.. didn’t you learn that at all?”

you have to explain the entire concept of every one basically not knowing anything about this and you all thinking about it as mythology

but taeyong tells you everything like a story and somewhere through it you end up falling asleep

and taeyong will be unsure of what to do at first, but eventually carry you to his bed and leave you to sleep in there that night

which is cute and all, until you wake up and have a momentary panic that you’ve been kidnapped

but taeyong greets you with a wide smile and a glass of orange juice, tell you that he has something to show you

it’s about then you realise that nothing you remembered was just a dream

which is reinforced by taeyong taking you to the edge of the hill (which is basically a cliff into the sea)

and pointing over into the distance to show you a pod of dolphins swimming in the distance

“see, it’s not all that bad right! they’re cute!”

and somehow taeyong, to show off, even gets a whale involved somehow

but that’s how he makes you less afraid of the ocean and less afraid of him

because although your life starts to get back on track a few days after that

you still make time to see taeyong and spend some time with him by the sea

and look up to the stars and listen to him tell you stories from the past that you thought were just stories

maybe you’ll both sleep in the same bed this time though

no, you will, because taeyong realises he has pretty strong feelings for the ocean hater after all

and he doesn't ask for haechan to help him with getting you to like him back either

he does that all by himself ~

#taeyong scenarios #taeyong reaction #taeyong smut #taeyong scenario #nct scenarios #nct reaction #nct smut #nct reactions #nct scenario #nct #taeyong

210 notes · View notes

kittykat-creations · 5 years

Text

Dream Camp

George sighed, looking around at the cabin they and the rest of the campers were in. Everyone else was happily doing arts and crafts but, despite his creativity, George was quickly growing bored.

“Arts and crafts are cool, but not as cool as any of the camp stuff from our dreams,” he said, standing up. They heard grunting from outside the open door and saw Melvin running in, surrounded by bugs and robotic arms.

“Oh no, Melvin!” Harold gasped. “You’re being attacked from a robo-land squid!”

“We’ll save you!” George cried as him as Harold ran towards the creature. They were both slapped backwards towards the craft tables.

“No, you slow leaks!” Melvin rolled his eyes. “This is the SwapHappy2000. It swaps bugs away.” Harold rubbed the back of his head, looking at Melvin in confusion. “That’s a combination of “swat” and “zap.”” He looked at a bug as one of the hands swapped it. “Swap! Copyright Sneedworks.”

“Why don’t you just use bug spray?” Harold asked.

“Because I’m not a caveman.” Melvin glared.

“Right. Well hey, it is kinda cool!” George smiled.

Melvin’s cheeks tinted pink and he held out a (normal) hand to help George up. “Thanks.” He looked at George’s wrist- specifically, the pink, purple, and blue bracelet around it. “I like your bracelet.”

“Thanks!” George grinned. “I made you a matching one!” He grabbed an identical bracelet from the crafts table and tied it around Melvin’s wrist. He blushed, looking at it and then smiling at George.

“Oh, my glue gun is finally hot!” He went over to the table. “Now I can make arts and crafts worthwhile with my paper mâché particle accelerator.” A bug landed on top of the glue gun. “Oh no. A bug landed on the-”

The glue shot into Melvin’s face, making him scream “Hot glue!” and which led into a series of accidents that landed him in the lake covered in trash. “Ugh! Algae!”

“Woah, a Melvin sea monster?” Harold said from the shore, where him and George were sitting and eating popcorn. “That’s my worst nightmare.”

“Mine too. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we should sleep with our eyes open from now on?”

“Yes. And arts and crafts comic!” Him and Harold pulled out their comic supplies, before George smiled sheepishly and got up to help Melvin out of the lake. “You don’t mind if we still make you the villain sometimes, right Melvin? It’s all in good fun, I promise.”

Melvin sighed, pulling the algae off his body. “I guess not.” George giggled and picked some of the algae out of Melvin’s hair. “...can I help?”

“Sure!” Harold smiled.

-----

After being locked in the arts and crafts cabin, even with the threat of being inside forever, George was still becoming bored with the project. He especially didn’t want to be stuck inside making 2000 whatevers. The problem was, the other team was quickly winning! Melvin’s team or not, George was not letting them win.

“Can you go over these again?” George asked Dressy for what must have been the fifth time. They were doing a great job slowly her down and distracting her.

“And with more unnecessary words?” Harold added.

“Stop undermining my ringer, you extra toes.” Melvin glared, walking over to the table. “It’s not going to work. We’re getting out of this momento mill and leaving you in our DIY dust! Nothing personal, dearest. Now unhand that dream catcher!”

“Make us.” George held on tight to the dream catcher, and Harold grabbed on too.

“Fine,” Melvin said. “Prepare for maximum swap!”

He turned the HappySwap2000 all the way up and had all six hands grab onto the dream catcher. They waved around wildly until it ended up turning into a swirling vortex above them.

“Oh no. Too much swap.” Melvin gulped nervously.

“You lunatic!” Harold cried, clinging to the table. “You’ve swapped us all!”

The kids screamed as they were all pulled into the vortex, which quickly closed behind them.

They landed in a world colored with crayon. It looked similar to the camp they had left, only better.

“What just happened?” George asked. “Where are we?”

“What have we done?” Melvin yelped.

“You opened a portal to the dream dimension, and it pulled us in!” Dressy said as she started floating. “Puuulled!”

“It’s not real!” Melvin panicked. “Wake up, wake up!”

He began slapping his face until George grabbed his hands. “Melvin! You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He looked around, pulling Melvin along by the hand over to a sign that Harold was looking at. ““Welcome to the dream dimension, where dreams are reality”?”

Harold watched a small purple penguin walk past. “Pinches?”

“You know that guy?” George asked.

“Yeah, it’s Pinches the Purple Penguin!” Harold smiled as Pinches approached him. “He was my imaginary friend awhile back.”

“You got change for a ten?” Pinches asked gruffly.

“All I got is a twenty.” Harold held it up.

“Deal!” Pinches swiped the bill and hurried off.

“Same old Pinches.”

“Woah, it’s my dream hovercraft!” George exclaimed as it floated over.

“Everything here is from both of your dreams,” Dressy explained. “Because you were both holding the dream catcher that got swapped. Swa-ha-apped!”

“So it’s all good dream stuff?” Harold asked.

“So far, but nothing’s a lock here,” Dressy said. “Some things happen for a reason. Others just happen. Dreams have a lot of wiggle room. Wi-hi-hi-gle room!”

“How do you know all this?”

“I took a dream class.”

“So we can do whatever we want here!” George gasped excitedly and turned to the boy next to him. “Melvin, I have a great idea! We can do a bunch of stuff together, like little mini-dates! Honestly, I don’t really know what you like doing besides inventing.”

“That’s actually a good idea.” Melvin held his chin in thought. “I don’t know what you like doing, besides making comics.”

“Oh.” Harold frowned a bit, pressing his fingers together. “But I thought we were gonna hang out. It’s our dream camp, George!”

“Yeah, but we have plenty of time.” George shrugged. “You can do whatever you want, too! We’ll just be a little while, promise.”

“Ok…”

“And I have the perfect idea for what to do first!” Melvin grabbed George’s hand and they ran off.

“Mm…” Harold looked around, thinking of what he could do first without George.

-----

“Swimming?!” George grinned as they approached the lake. “Melvin, you’re awesome!” He dreamed up his swimsuit and was about to run into the water when Melvin grabbed his wrist.

“Not swimming!” He sighed. “With all the antics you and Harold get up to, I never get a chance to just relax. I just wanted to lay on the beach for awhile and have lunch, while it’s quiet?”

“Oh…” George frowned a bit. “Uh- sure, relaxing! I can do that! Here, I can get us some beach chairs too!”

Two beach chairs appeared in front of them, along with a cooler filled with sandwiches and soda. Melvin smiled.

“And maybe an umbrella too? For shade. And maybe a copy of Shakespeare’s “Macbeth.””

“Isn’t the point of the beach to be in the sun?” George asked.

“I burn easily.” Mevin rubbed his arm. George shrugged and an umbrella appeared beside one of the chairs. A second later, Melvin was holding a copy of Macbeth. He grinned and hugged George. “Thank you, dearest!”

“Heh, yeah…” George smiled nervously before sitting down in the chair beside Melvin.

Melvin opened his book and began to read, while George looked around. He tapped his hands on his legs, thinking of what he could do that was quiet. He wasn’t very good at quiet, or relaxing, both being things that made his ADHD want to scream and throw itself off a cliff. But Melvin wanted it quiet, and this was his date idea, so he’d have to be quiet.

He looked over at the other kids, all of whom were having fun, running around and yelling. He sighed internally, setting his chin on top of his knees. Boy, that looked like a lot of fun.

Ugh, how long did it take to read a book…?

-----

Harold nervously approached Erica and Gooch, who were playing cards on their cabin porch. “Hey guys. Whatcha doing?”

“Playing cards. Want me to deal you in?” Erica asked as she shuffled the deck.

“Sure, I guess.” Harold sat down with them, setting his head in his hands.

“Where’s George?” Erica asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Him and Melvin are doing stuff together,” Harold answered glumly.

“Aw, and you got stuck being third wheel.” Gooch put a hand on his head and looked at Harold sympathetically.

“Apparently.” Harold huffed. “Doing anything without George just feels so wrong.”

“Better get used to it,” Erica said. “Him and Melvin are going to do stuff by themselves. They’re dating now. Thank god, because it finally gets Melvin off my back. But that means that this,” she gestured at Harold, “is gonna be happening a lot more often.”

Harold looked kind of queasy. Doing more stuff without George? That just felt even more wrong. Aw, why did him and Melvin have to be together?

He looked down when a card landed in front of him.

“The game’s Uno,” Erica said as she dealt.

-----

“Alright! Finally, it’s my turn to pick the date!” George cheered. “Ultimate extreme skateboarding!!”

Him and Melvin were standing at the top of a giant skate ramp, and looking down at what must have been the most dangerous skatepark ever- if either of them could get hurt. Even still, Melvin was terrified. He whimpered, folding his arms together in front of his chest as he peered over the edge of the ramp. He was wearing a padded helmet, knee and elbow pads, and a crash pad over his torso.

“Skateboarding? Do I have to?” He asked nervously.

“Hey, I did your thing. I think it’s only fair that you try mine.” George gestured out at the park.

“I-I don’t even know how to skateboard!”

“It’s easy! Here, watch.” George stepped onto his skateboard and sped down the ramp, cheering as he rode. He flew up at the bottom and did a few extreme flips before landing on the platform at the bottom of the ramp. He grinned and looked up at Melvin, holding his arms out wide. “Now you try!”

Melvin moaned fearfully and put one foot on his skateboard, pushing it back and forth a little. He stood on it, then yelped and clung to it when it started moving towards the edge of the platform. “Oh no. No no no-!” He screamed as the skateboard dropped off onto the ramp and sped down.

“Melvin, you have to control it!” George yelled. Melvin ignored him, or couldn’t hear him over his own screaming, and the skateboard shot into the air when it reached the end of the ramp.

“Mommy!!” He sobbed, still clinging to the skateboard as it began to fall. He landed flat on his back at the bottom of the ramp, and his skateboard slowly rolled down and stopped next to him. George rode down and skidded to a halt on his own board kicked it up before holding a hand out for Melvin.

“I told you, I don’t know how to skateboard,” Melvin said.

“Alright, alright. I’ll show you the ropes, ok? But I don’t wanna let this place go to waste, I’ve never seen a skatepark this big!”

“You made it,” Melvin mumbled.

-----

Melvin sighed, pulling off the last piece of protective gear while he sat on the edge at the bottom of one of the ramps. For how much he had fallen, he was still unbruised- of course he was, it was a dream world- but still shaken, nonetheless. “Alright. Now that we’re not at risk of breaking our necks-”

“We never were-”

“-it’s my turn to pick the activity. And I pick the library!”

“The library?” George groaned. “Wasn’t your last thing “relaxing”?”

“This isn’t relaxing, you unscented candle.”

“Still doing the insults?” George raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

“Yes, but lovingly.” Melvin patted George’s arm.

“Yeah, that one was pretty tame. Ok, if it’s not relaxing, what is it?”

“Reading!” Melvin grinned, holding George’s arm. “Doing something together that’s nice, and quiet, and doesn’t have a chance of getting us both killed.”

“Again, we weren’t actually in danger-”

“Oh, whatever! I still choose library.”

George sighed and dreamed up the Piqua library in front of them. Melvin grinned and happily pulled George inside behind him. Now don’t it wrong, George liked reading. But this was a dream world, where they could do anything imaginable, and Melvin was only picking normal things that they could do in the real world. Plus, if he sat and read for too long, his head started to hurt, and he usually liked listening to music while he did.

And while it was nice watching Melvin be cute and run around the library excitedly, going on and on about all the books he had to himself, George was itching to move the entire time, and do something exciting.

“Alright!” Melvin set a stack of thick books on the table George was sitting at. “I’ve narrowed it down to these ten. If I’m only reading one book, it’s one of these. Which one do you think I should read?”

“I dunno…” George tapped a book in the middle of the pile. “This one.”

“Ooh, good choice.” Melvin grabbed and opened it. “What are you going to read?”

“Ah, I… haven’t looked yet.” George blushed. “I got distracted watching you.” He smiled sheepishly. “You’re cute when you’re excited.”

Melvin turned red. “I am not cute.” He looked away as George laughed. “...you know, the library has a comic section.”

“They do?!” George exclaimed, and jumped out of his seat to go find it.

-----

Harold sighed as he wandered through the woods. George and Melvin were still busy, and Harold was running out of things to do. He flopped back on a rock in the middle of a clearing, and he didn’t even laugh when it deflated.

“I miss George,” he said to himself. “Nothing’s as fun without him! Stupid Melvin, hogging all his attention. I want my best friend back.”

“Hey!” He jumped when a voice answered him, and Pinches the Purple Penguin appeared beside him. “You wanna get your friend back?”

“Yeah? I just said that.” Harold frowned.

“I can get him back,” Pinches said. “But first, you got change for a ten?”

“I still only have a twenty,” Harold replied, pulling it out.

“Deal!” Pinches snatched it and started waddling away.

“Hey! What about getting George back!” Harold cried.

“Ah, it’s easy. Just break them up!”

“What! I can’t do that!”

“Then you gotta win him over! Make hanging out with you seem more exciting.”

“I paid twenty bucks for that?” Harold asked as Pinches left. He groaned and leaned back in the rock seat. What was something he could do that would make George want to join? He sat up with an idea and grinned.

-----

“Ugh, I have a headache,” George complained as they left the library and it disappeared behind them.

“We were only in there for two hours.” Melvin rolled his eyes.

“You try reading when everything gets scrambled.” George glared. Melvin blinked in surprise as George walked off away from camp.

“I didn’t know you were dyslexic,” Melvin said, hurrying after him. George held his chin in thought as he looked around the area. Melvin walked behind him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you looking for?”

“The right area. I have an idea for what I want to do, but I need an open space.” George hummed a bit, and grinned when they found what he was looking for. “Perfect! And now…”

Melvin’s jaw dropped when a giant playing board, filled with accessories and real pop-ups, appeared before them. A playing board he recognized. “You play Dolomites and Dingbats?”

“Yeah! Me and Harold love it!” George grinned and dreamed up the costume for his character. “I figured you’d like it too. And I’ve always wanted to play in real life!”

“In real life?” Melvin looked down at his clothes, which were transformed into another costume. “You mean actually fighting the mon-” He screamed as a monster roared loudly in front of them, and he quickly hid behind George.

“Yeah!” George cheered, pumping his fists in the air. “We’re our own CM! CHAAAARGE!”

“Oh no,” Melvin squeaked as George ran towards the monster, pulling Melvin behind him.

-----

Melvin panted when they finally finished the quest, and he doubled over as everything from the game disappeared. George cheered and jumped around.

“Alright! Wasn’t that awesome, Melvin?” He grinned.

“Ok, this isn’t working.” Melvin groaned. His entire body was burning from the exercise.

“Wh-what do you mean?” George frowned.

“I mean this!” Melvin gestured at where the board had been. “The way we’re doing this! I can’t handle all this over-the-top extraneous activity, and you clearly can’t stand doing anything that requires being quiet for a prolonged period of time.”

George fidgeted with his tie nervously. “This isn’t us breaking up, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” Melvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to break up because of this. I like you. But we need to figure out a date that we can do together. Something that is exciting enough for you and takes into consideration the fact that I’m a coward who doesn’t like to move. Basically, we need to find something that satisfies both your overactive ADHD, and my quiet introverted autism. ”

“Well, we can do that, right?” George asked hopefully.

“I’m sure we can; we’re Melvorge! Or Gelvin. You never picked.”

“Gelvin’s easier to say.”

“Gelvin it is then.” Melvin nodded and started to pace. “Now it might take some thinking, but-” They jumped as a loud roar came from the lake. Melvin hid behind George again. “I thought you got rid of all the monsters!”

“I did! That’s not me!” George frowned. They ran towards camp, where the Melviathan from George and Harold’s comic was rampaging.

“George!” Harold cried, running over.

“Harold? What happened!”

“I-I don’t know! I was thinking about our comics and suddenly he appeared!” Harold pointed at the monster.

“Sorry Melvin, date’s gonna have to wait! We gotta take care of this!”

-----

Soon Captain Underpants defeated Melviathan, and George and Harold cheered.

“We did it, we won!” George grinned.

“That’s why we have to go home,” Harold said.

“Wha-?!”

“We’ll always win here, ‘cause this is our dream world.” Harold pulled out a bow and started shooting bullseyes. “So the wins don’t matter. The problem with this place is it’s all good. And good without bad isn’t good.”

“Yeah,” George agreed. “Without rain, you wouldn’t appreciate sunshine. Or dry socks.”

“And like, how Sophie One is bettar because of Other Sophie,” Jessica said.

“And sometimes, bad even makes good,” Harold continued.

“Right. Without school, we wouldn’t have Captain Underpants.” George smiled.

“Exactly. And that’s a Fact Smack!” Harold smiled, then his face softened. “So… we’re going back to the real world?”

“Actually…” George looked over at Melvin. “I had one more thing planned.”

“Aw, but-!”

“I promise, buddy, it’s just this one last thing.” George held Harold’s shoulders. “And we can’t really do it in the real world. But once we’re done, we’ll go back to the real world, and we can make comics and hang out all night. I know I’ve kinda been busy today, so we can do whatever you want when we get home.”

“...you mean it?” Harold smiled.

“Promise.” George smiled back. They quickly hugged before George pulled Melvin off to their final activity.

-----

“Ok, and… open your eyes!”

Melvin, who had been covering his eyes, opened them and gasped. The two of them were back at the lake, only this time there were dolphins, and they were both in their swimming gear.

“Dolphins!” Melvin squealed and flapped his hands. “You dreamt up dolphins!”

“Yep! Swimming with dolphins!” George grinned. Melvin screamed excitedly and squeezed George in a hug before hurrying into the water. George laughed, following him as the dolphins squeaked and swam up to them. He smiled and watched as Melvin cooed at the animals and petted their beaks.

“I love you so much, even if you’re not as innocent as people believe you are,” Melvin cooed to them.

“What do you mean?” George asked, climbing onto one of the dolphins to ride it.

“You don’t want to know.” The dolphins playfully nudged Melvin and he laughed. He started bobbing around in the water as they pushed him, and George cheered as he rode around in the lake on his dolphin. After a few minutes, he swam over to Melvin and leaned forward on the dolphin, setting his head in his hands.

“So, was this perfect or what?” He asked.

“Absolutely.” Melvin was hugging one of the dolphins. “But… we can’t do this kind of thing all the time.”

“Mm, no.” George shrugged. “But it’s a good starting point to figuring out stuff we both like doing.” He grinned. “Plus you’re really cute.”

Melvin burned red. “I am not.”

“Agree to disagree.” George pulled Melvin up by the front of his vest to kiss him. “Now come on, let’s enjoy these dolphins and then give Harold a turn. He’s wanted to swim with dolphins since we met.”

#captain underpants #TAUWTATATF #george beard #harold hutchins #melvin sneedly #gelvin #cu spoilers

20 notes · View notes

phdmama · 6 years

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HELLO & MAC!!!

From the prompt @helloamhere gave me, for her birthday and for my amazing Mac @realitybetterthanfiction who is just gonna have to read some Drarry, here it is, pretty much PURE FLUFF!!!

Here’s the prompt: what about “found families and gardening and naps” as a drabble prompt??? ANY characters and fandoms you love!

I hope this makes you both smile, my lovely lovely friends!!!

xox

Harry leans back on his heels, wiping the sweat from his brow. They’ve rented this house on the coast for the summer, and the original owner is clearly a master gardener, if the grounds around him are anything to go by.

The house itself is a marvel, an old, three-story Victorian with a wide front porch, painted in a cheerful, daffodil yellow with spring green shutters. The house looks out over a large lawn that slopes a bit down to the cliff’s edge. There is a winding wooden staircase that meanders down to the rocky beach, and the air smells of salt and wind and fish and the infinite ocean that crashes below. There’s a gazebo and flower beds and rose bushes and a peculiar little wading pool that has a fountain in the middle that occasionally spouts 15 meters into the air, and no one can figure out what sets it off, or how to make it stop. They’ve learned to give it space.

Draco loves it; it makes Harry a little nervous at night, to be honest. It’s so dark and so quiet compared to their cozy flat in London. Things in the house creak after dark, sometimes a shutter will bang even when there’s no wind, and Harry had sworn one night that he’d seen a bear out on the back lawn, but Draco had insisted there aren’t any fucking bears in England, Potter, are you fucking mad?

Harry despairs of ever breaking Draco of the habit of calling him Potter. It’s been thirty years, after all, and he shows no sign of changing his ways. Very rarely, usually late at night after a couple of glasses of wine, a soft Harry might slip out from his lips, but generally, it’s Potter this, and Potter that, and occasionally, GODDAMN IT POTTER when Harry has done something particularly egregious, like forget to buy more bacon or worse, wine.

They’re here with their friends. All the kids are too busy, too grown up, too immersed in their own wonderful lives to want to go on holiday with their parents, and anyway, they all have jobs now, unlike this lot, retired to the last one of them, Harry thinks fondly, looking out over the group spread out across the lawn. It’s been a magical summer so far. Filled with birdsong in the morning, lazy days, naps in the garden, and the comfort of friends who’ve known each other forever.

He sees Pansy and Luna curled up on one of the large chaise longues, safe out of the splash zone of the pool. Ginny and Blaise are wandering down to the cliff’s edge to watch the sunset. Seamus is sitting at the large table on the back patio, with a bowl of sugar snap peas from the veg garden around by the side of the house, and Dean is pouring a lager at the outside tap. Neville is doing something with the singing rose bushes, who seem a bit taken aback by all the fuss, and then all of a sudden their dissonant humming resolves into a beautiful A minor chord that shimmers in the evening air, the sound dissipating, leaving something like an ache behind. Draco, Ron, and Hermione have gone into town to pick up tea, and should be back any moment. Harry likes it best when all of them are here, tucked in for the day after whatever adventures they may have gone on.

Harry looks doubtfully at the plot he’s been weeding. He’s really not much of a gardener, and he’s not actually convinced that he’s been pulling up weeds and not sprouts of whatever is supposed to be growing here, so he decides to quit while he’s ahead, and sets down the trowel to peel off the grubby gloves he’d found in the shed. He stands, stretching to ease the ache in his lower back that seems in recent years to have taken up a semi-permanent residence.

He hears the noise level increase and surmises that the hunter-gatherers have returned with the Thai food, and wanders back towards the house to go wash his hands. He sees Draco, who looks almost like he’s glowing in the light of the setting sun and feels his heart shift and settle a bit. Draco drops the carry-out bag onto the table and peels away from the others to walk down the steps to the lawn to meet Harry as he approaches.

Draco reaches out and runs a thumb along Harry’s cheekbone.

“You’ve got dirt on your nose,” he observes, and leans in to give Harry a quick kiss.

Harry slides his arm around Draco’s waist and reels him for another kiss, a bit slower this time, a bit more intention. After thirty years, they don’t always take time simply to kiss. They’re both getting a bit wrinkled around the edges, Draco’s put on a little weight of late, Harry’s hair is more silver than black at this point, and neither of them can read the small print on the jam labels anymore.

They’ve loved each other since they were 20 years old. They’ve loved each other through all the ups and downs of a long life together. Through sleepless nights rocking babies and lazy Sunday afternoons. Through careers and house work. Through explosive fights and even more explosive make-up sex. Through laughter and tears. For richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health. For better and for worse. They’ve settled in and settled down, and it’s good.

Better than Harry could ever have imagined when he’d looked up at that boring Ministry ball to see Draco come into the room. He’d watched the way Draco had taken a deep breath, and squared his shoulders as if he were about go in front of a firing line, and Harry’s heart had hiccuped and then said quite firmly, him, he’s the one, that’s the one I want. It had taken a little time to convince Draco that he wasn’t pulling a prank, but Harry Potter knows how to stay the course, and here they are.

He kisses Draco again, lets it linger for a moment and takes it deeper, and without looking, flips Ron off when he comes out with an impressive wolf whistle. Harry pulls back to press his forehead against Draco’s, who’s looking both amused and a bit disheveled.

Draco fixes that bright gaze onto Harry and, quirking his eyebrow in that way that he knows never fails to get Harry going, says, “What was that for?”

Harry shrugs, and guides Draco back over to the table.

“Nothing, really,” he says softly, “Just… thinking about how much I love you. How good this is. What a life we’ve had so far.”

Draco leans into him for a moment and grins. “Did you get into the gin again, Potter? You know it always makes you sappy.”

Harry laughs. “Yeah, maybe, but it’s true, you know. I love you, more than I ever thought possible.”

As Draco sits down and pulls the take-out bag towards him to rummage through it, looking for the extra spicy Pad Thai he always orders, he looks up and gives a small, secret smile, and says quietly, “Harry, sit down and eat. It’s getting cold.”

So Harry sits and he eats the too-spicy noodles, and he drinks more gin than is probably advisable for a man his age, and he laughs, and he listens to the voices of his family spill over him, and he loves and he loves and he loves.

#wandering pain #Drarry drabble #birthday drabble #my writing #Drarry #drarry squad

248 notes · View notes

huntressthewizard · 6 years

Text

🌿➳ Blood. That was her blood. Written as a message of warning on the now destroyed crypt. Bill had been watching the entire time and like an idiot she had been none the wiser. Feeling faint, the druid leaned against the overgrown tomb, still recovering from her three days without sleep. Crisply darkened fingers gingerly traced over the small triangular drawing. Yes, it was definitely her blood. She was just about to question how he did this before glancing at her arm, finding a deep enough cut to do the trick. But Cipher wasn’t corporeal, not yet, anyway, surely he didn’t do this directly and by himself. Feeling her right eye twitch, the back of her uninjured hand came to rub it, and when she saw more blood when she brought it away, she concluded what had happened. Bill somehow gained access to possessing her body.

“Whoa bro, what happened out here?” Startled by the sudden voice, Huntress turned around, staring wide-eyed at a lumpy-space person who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, hovering over the tomb as she inspected it.

“Oh dude, did you do this? I tell ya, not too keen on people coming into these two-thousand year old ruins just to lump the place up. Thought that trap on the bridge woulda kept you vandals away. Not cool, dude.”

Huntress Wizard stared at the Lumpy woman for a moment, brow arched. “Wait, trap? You’re telling me you’re the one who set up that master-level illusion on the cobblestone bridge leading to the island?” She found it a bit hard to believe, Lumpy Space People weren’t exactly very well-disciplined nor inclined to learn advanced magic.

The other woman poked her lips out in a pout, putting her hands on her hips at the half-dryad’s skepticism. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, bro, I know a lot more about spellcraft than most of the supposed wizards who come here, and it looks to me like you’ve got a serious case of magicka burn on your fingers, dude.”

The wizard stared at her fingers, blackened with purple cracks of light underneath, like veins of a volcano under an obsidian ashen crust. Even with the necromancer’s amulet and the power up received from Cipher, the art was too foul of an unnatural deed for her body to perform. Her brow furrowed, staring at the damage caused by both her and Bill possessing her, then at the warning on the tomb, silent.

“I’ve got an ointment that’s perfect for that, or at least that’s what the family spellbooks claim. So quit drawing cryptic stuff in your own blood and follow me to the shack, dude. Name’s Rubi, by the way.” The space person motioned for the half-dryad to follow her further into the woods. Huntress, despite her soreness and exhaustion, did so without hesitation.

The wizard listened to the woman, now known as Rubi Ramirez, talk about the history of the forest and town, and how her family had lived here for generations; about how her ancestors, the human side at least, were avid monster hunters and scholars of the extra-dimensional, and how this gave them a huge advantage when the Mushroom War escalated to bombings and opening dimensional rifts in space and time. While Rubi was married and had many siblings, so far it was only her that decided to stay behind on the island and continue the family research, while the rest of the family went off to pursue other things with their lives.

Huntress, quite frankly, wasn’t all too interested, but feeling that she had to be polite after intruding onto the island and wrecking the ruins, would nod and let out a “yes, I see,” every now and then, pretending to listen. Rubi seemed friendly enough, and the druid was glad that she didn’t seem to take the destruction of island property too personally, willing to tend to her wounds. It wasn’t until Huntress attempted to enter the cabin was when they had a problem.

“Here it is, the Mystery Shack! Come on in, mi casa es usted casa.”

The shack in question was a dilapidated cabin in the middle of the woods, most likely built and refurbished several times over the centuries, possibly dating back from before the war, like Rubi had said. The wizard began to follow her in, only for some magical forcefield to hit her like concrete in the face and bounced her back off the porch and into the conviniently-placed mud puddle outside the door.

Rubi’s pupils dialated as she watched this. Her ancestors had told her about the magical barrier over the shack, and immediently knew why she was not allowed in. The lumpy woman pointed at her accusingly and screamed to someone else inside the shack.

“Demon! Deeemon!!! Honey, a demon’s trying to get into the shack!”

“Wait, no, I’m not a demon, I’m just being possessed by one!”

“AHHHH SHE EVEN ADMITS IT! MISHA, TURN ON THE ANTI-CIPHER DEFENSES!”

Once the lumpy woman was inside, a ridiculously giant laser canon protruded out from the roof of the shack, and from the ground errupted large, spider-like robotic stilts that allowed the building to stand and move.

Obviously not wanting to stick around and find out what other kinds of weaponry the death-cabin had, Huntress Wizard got to her feet, transformed into a deer, and began to run through the woods as the once-friendly stranger began to chase her down in the mechanized Mystery Shack, bobbing and weaving between the trees to avoid the laser blast as the threat behind her barreled and tore down whatever stood in its way. Finally reaching a high cliff at the edge of the island, the druid transformed into a hawk and flew off, diving and turning every now and then to avoid the laser blasts until she was finally out of range.

Once reaching the shores of Ooo, Huntress returned to her normal humanoid form and fell face-flat into the sands of the beach, rolling over on her back panting from exhaustion. It seemed she had reached yet another dead end when it came to finding a back up plan, but after lack of sleep, her injuries, and after outrunning a weapon of mass destruction, Huntress was just too jaded and tired to care. She closed her eyes, the sun and sand feeling warm against her skin, and she fell asleep, transforming herself into a log to prevent sunburn. ➳🍃

#foretold on the scrolls (drabble)

1 note · View note

myshortstoryproject · 4 years

Text

The gales outside have reached a howling pitch, slapping fat raindrops against the tower walls. Normally she’d welcome the stormy weather, but her sniffles have been persistent as the weather has grown more miserable, and taking care of the daily chores about the cliffs has become proportionally less appealing.

Dragging herself out of bed a full hour later than usual, she stumbles downstairs to put the kettle on, bare feet curling inwards on the smooth concrete steps of the tower. Recently she’s taken to falling asleep on the couch in the studio, the strobe light flashing through the windows as its beams cover the surrounding landscape in white-blue glare. Out of the kitchen window she can see straight through to the mountains in the distance on a clear day, though today they are shrouded in fog. The crops in the fields are sluggish with rain, pounded into submission, tired stalks barely swaying as gravity pulls inexorably on their waterlogged heads. She braces herself on the edge of the sink, fighting the pull herself. The hiss of the heating water mingles with the pattering rain, the almost inaudible scrape of the rhythmic turning of the light far above. The old man who’d lived in the lighthouse until his death had left behind no relatives, the neighbouring farmer-turned-realtor had explained when she’d come here four years ago, six boxes in the back of a used pick-up truck and two duffel bags slung over her shoulder. “Married to the sea.” He himself had the look of a squat seaman, beard appropriately grizzled, joints creaking as he led her up the little porch and into the lighthouse proper. “They don’t actually need anyone living here anymore. Got in all the newest machines.” He’d smacked a heavy hand against a small metal hatch in the column of the stairwell, marked with the usual electrical hazard triangle. “I drive up once a month to make sure everything’s working alright - though I hear you’ll be doing that now?” His eyebrows had drawn together as he’d eyed her. She’d burrowed deeper into her windbreaker in response and nodded, uncomfortable. She can guess what the people in town think of her. The place she grew up in isn’t that different from here, and she knows what the women at her uncle’s store would have to say about some young foreign woman living alone on the outskirts of town with no visible source of income.

She had found it oppressively quiet after he’d driven off, watching his car spool off into the distance as it began to drizzle, motor hum still audible long after the car had disappeared into the mist, carried on the wind before it lost itself in the pine trees sheltering against the twisted overhangs. There is a depth of silence underlying the sounds of house and sea, a physical pressure she’d felt here for the first time. She’s spent most of her adult life in empty libraries, where silence blanketed unread texts. The kettle clicks off and she wants to scream.

The rain lets up in the early afternoon. She decides to do a perimeter check, trudging along the top of the cliffs for a good five miles before circling around the fields. North of the lighthouse she makes her way back down to the beach, kicking up sand in the shadow of the rock walls towering above. The strobe is almost invisible against a white sky, her eyes have to strain against the glare. The sensors along the route are all fine, though she has to wipe rainwater scum from a few of the lenses close to the sand. The system is imperfect, adjusted for the unfortunate reality of the situation: a single exhausted girl, patrolling on paths set by a rudimentary random-number-generator consisting of four twelve-sided dice and a grid on a roll of packing-paper. When she gets back to the house she sits on the porch steps and watches the birds in the sky. She imagines Sam trying not to fidget next to her, naming them all. She thinks about getting a dog. A scrappy one, who’s seen some shit. When she’s gone it could live off field mice and ditchwater. But then they’d probably shoot it too.

It’s five hours later that the doorbell rings for the first time since she’s moved in. She startles so violently she upends her mug of tea, hot liquid splashing the floor. The storm has started back up again and blinding light alternates with blue-black behind rainy glass as precariously balanced piles of paper and oddities collapse to the tune of ongoing shrills. She extracts herself from the mess, crouching as she slips downstairs. There’s no way of seeing who’s in front of the door, an obvious oversight she’d deliberately neglected when she set up ring after ring of perimeter surveillance. None of the sensors have been tripped, and the control light above the stairwell door is glowing a steady green. Her stomach is tight and her chest contracted, pressing her heart hammering in her throat and making it hard to breathe. Why ring the doorbell? She forces her thoughts into order.

She’d always known that any attempt against intruders jumping in would be pointless. There’s safe-houses of course, spots that have been monitored since the early days. She’s destroyed and copied and falsified records herself, and a couple she’s fairly certain are inaccessible to anyone with any wish to do her harm, but then she knows better than almost anyone how facetious that way of thinking is, how incomprehensible and tangled some connections can be, on what tenuous threads people can be led to do horrific deeds at the behest of people not even born yet. Deluding herself of relative security whilst betting on what was, to the best of her knowledge, her complete unimportance had been the choice she’d landed on, and now she can hardly breathe at the possibility that whatever is ringing the doorbell might finally prove that to have been a mistake. She can feel sweat trickling down her neck as she draws open the door.

#prose #short story #original prose

0 notes

anywhereanywhereanywhere · 6 years

Text

Finally

let’s not take too long now

just got to reach out

let’s remember the noise

of the ocean at our windows

let’s look out into the dark sky

let’s imagine the sunrise

tomorrow they’ll look back at me

in love with you and deeply stupidly

fourteen blocks and then a bus stop

I’m trapped in a memory

gotta get home in some kind of way

I suppose I’ll make it to the city centre

then visit the joke shop and buy

a slinky

some slime

from the window

it moves too fast to see anything

I try to write in my note book

when it stops it’s all gibberish

here we go

I’m dreaming again

a house made of platforms

doors that don’t open

unless you knock on them

and still there’s a hallway

leading to the rest of the dream

it’s pretty cool

a red beach made of solid stone

bribed with rainbow

I saw a sea of crystal clean water

unswimmable

to the upper cliffs, there’s a house and a party

through the door, towards a table

it’s fucking fancy dress

tap on the helmet of a power ranger

ask him “could you fly me home?”

back again in some kind of disaster

a porch in a sunny damp swampy house

it was abandoned when we got here

it was cool though

we loved each other

we lied endlessly

and so we’re kind of mindlessly waiting

took your call somewhere so far away

felt nothing

felt something when the moon was the king and queen and prince and tailor

ain’t fashion such a screw

and the shrew is the best exemplar

it’s about that time

to say goodbye

I am on the edge of a rock pool

and warm in my bed

in summer

I’ll see you before then

at least before winter

or whatever else, finally

#poem

1 note · View note

dailyironfamily · 6 years

Text

day 19 - merfolk au

Day nineteen of the November Fic Challenge is a merfolk au! Featuring Tony and Rhodey as mermen and Pepper as a marine biologist, even though I know nothing about marine biology and it doesn’t feature in this fic.

As a marine biologist, there are certain things Pepper never expects to find when she moves into her new house on the California coast. Namely, mermaids. Mermen, technically, in this particular case, but it’s still a lot to swallow. Even after hanging out with them for weeks, it’s kind of hard to believe they’re real.

And yet here she is, being woken up early Saturday morning by the sound of rocks hitting her windows.

“I’ve told you, if you break my windows I’m going to be mad!” she shouts as she steps out onto her back porch, tightening the sash of her robe around her waist.

Tony smiles and waves up at her, unconcerned. “Pepper! Come down!”

“Give me a minute, okay?” She sighs and goes back inside to get some food and change into her bathing suit. She’s gotten used to these early morning swims by now, so it only takes her a few minutes before she’s ready and heading down to the rocks below her house where here aquatic guests like to sun themselves.

That’s exactly what Tony’s doing now, stretched out over a big rock, his shimmery, dark red tail slapping idly against the side. When he hears her approach he perks up so quickly the momentum of his tail drags him right off the rock and into the water. Pepper just rolls her eyes and walks down the shore to the edge of the water.

“Where’s Rhodey?” she asks when Tony resurfaces and grins at her.

“Here!” Rhodey pops up next to Tony, looking just as enthusiastic as his friend.

Pepper gives them both a suspicious glance. “What’s all this energy for?”

“We have something to show you,” Tony tells her, pulling himself back up onto the rock he’d been sitting on. “Did you bring breakfast?”

She does, in fact, have several granola bars with her, and she wades closer to hand one to him. Rhodey joins Tony on the rock and holds his hand out, and she gives him one too. Unlike Tony’s solid red scales, Rhodey has a blue and gray pattern to his tail, kind of like a lionfish’s stripes.

“You know, I’m pretty sure feeding you all this human food is a mistake,” she says, chewing on her own granola bar. “Your digestive system probably isn’t meant for this kind of stuff.”

“We’ve eaten human food before and we’re not dead yet,” Tony says, shrugging. He finishes his bar in three bites, glancing covetously at Rhodey, who’s eating his at a slower pace.

“Yeah, Tony ate like six hamburgers at once before,” Rhodey adds, twisting away so Tony can’t steal his granola from him. “I still think that should’ve killed you.”

Tony shrugs. “I’m resilient.”

Pepper winces, glad she wasn’t around to see the repercussions of that. “So what do you want to show me?” They don’t have anything with them, which they usually do when they say they want to show her something.

“You have to come with us to see it,” Tony answers.

“That’s...suspicious.”

“It’s a place, not a thing,” Rhodey explains. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Pepper purses her lips, studying the two mermen staring back expectantly at her. She’s not stupid, she knows all the myths about mermaids luring sailors into the water and drowning them. But she’s gone swimming with them multiple times before, and neither has tried to drown her yet.

“Is it far?” she asks at last, and Tony low fives Rhodey. “How do you even know that?”

“We watch a lot of people on the beach,” Rhodey replies at the same time Tony says,

“Not far at all. But you probably need your motor ski thing.”

“Jet Ski,” she corrects.

“Whatever. So are you coming?”

Pepper sighs. “I suppose I have to, or you two will pout and throw rocks at my house all day.”

Tony whoops and jumps back into the water, clearly eager to go. Rhodey finishes his granola bar and says, “We’ll wait for you here.”

Pepper troops back up to her garage, getting a waterproof bag and sticking some bottled water in it, then gets her Jet Ski and a life vest. By the time she gets back down to the water and hauls her Jet Ski into the ocean, Tony and Rhodey are impatiently swimming circles around each other.

“Ready?” Tony asks, untangling his tail from Rhodey’s and swimming closer.

“As I’ll ever be,” she says, and the three of them head out.

They lead her down the shoreline, keeping a careful distance so she doesn’t accidentally run over either of them with the Jet Ski. There isn’t much out here in the way of other humans, which she’d specifically looked into when she’d moved into her house. After about ten minutes, they motion for her to follow them into a small bay-like indent between two cliffs.

The water here is clear, and there’s white sand despite their rocky surroundings. She turns off the Jet Ski when the water’s shallow enough, pulling it up onto the sand so it doesn’t float away.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” It’s interesting, but there’s nothing particularly spectacular that she can see.

Tony shakes his head, pointing at the entrance to a cave in the side of one of the cliffs she hadn’t noticed. “In there.”

“Well, that’s not creepy or anything,” she chuckles, but leaves her bag and life vest on the Jet Ski as she gets back into the water. Rhodey swims up beside her, and she smiles at him.

“You’ll love it, I promise,” he says, and she nods and swims with them over to the cave, her curiosity ramped up to eleven at this point.

It looks like a normal cave, wet and lots of rocks. But Tony swims farther in, so she follows him, until he stops and says,

“Rhodey should cover your eyes, it’ll be cooler that way.”

“I can’t swim with his hand on my face,” she protests. “How about I close my eyes and someone directs me?”

Rhodey nods, so she closes her eyes, waiting for some sort of direction, and nearly startles when she feels an arm slide around her waist.

“It’s okay, I won’t let you drown,” he says, and she forces herself to relax and just let Rhodey take her the rest of the way. She can feel his tail brush against her legs as he swims, and that’s somehow almost more embarrassing than the arm around her waist.

After another minute she hears Tony say, “Okay, open your eyes.”

She does, thinking she’ll need a moment to adjust to the darkness, but it’s not dark at all. The whole cave is lit up with some kind of glowing moss, but it’s not just the usual greens. There are blues and reds and purples too, creating a bright rainbow effect as it reflects off the water.

“Holy shit,” she says, eloquently. Tony laughs, stretching out with his hands behind his head.

“Like it?”

“Tony, it’s beautiful.” She swims in a little circle, looking around with wide eyes. Whatever these plants are, she’s never seen anything like them before.

“Wait, check this out too,” he says, and disappears under the water for a few seconds. When he returns, he swims over and takes Pepper’s hand, placing something in her palm.

She looks down at the smooth, opal-like stone in her hand and smiles. “It’s lovely.”

“Hey, I was going to do that,” Rhodey protests, pushing Tony before diving under the water and returning with his own, bigger opal-colored stone. He places it in her hand as well, beaming.

The two of them seem to be...waiting for something, so she glances back down at the stones, then back up and says, “Thank you?”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because both of them look oddly disappointed, so she hastily adds,

“I don’t want to seem ungrateful, because I am very grateful you shared this cave with me, it’s fascinating! But, ah, I think I’m missing something here.”

“I told you she wouldn’t get it,” Rhodey mutters to Tony, who shrugs.

“We’re trying to court you,” Tony explains.

There’s a long period of silence. Tony’s stone slides out of her hand and nobody catches it, though Tony frowns as it sinks down to the cave floor.

“Court me?” Pepper says after a long moment of trying to find her voice, which comes out overly shrill.

“Humans have courting, don’t they?” Rhodey asks, while Tony dives down again and brings back another shiny stone for her.

“Um,” she says loudly. “They do?”

“Are you asking us or telling us?” Tony says.

“Maybe we should forget it,” Rhodey says slowly, reaching out to take his stone back, but Tony grabs his wrist before he can.

“We didn’t hear her answer yet,” he points out.

Pepper realizes she should probably say something that’s not just panicked babbling. “So you’re...both trying to court me? Am I supposed to pick whoever brings me the biggest, nicest rock or something?”

Rhodey picks his head. “You don’t have to pick. You just have to say yes or no.”

Tony, who seems to have realized the crux of the issue, says, “Oh! It’s both of us or neither of us. We’re asking together. Do humans not do that?”

“Not most of them,” Pepper says faintly, and frowns when both Tony and Rhodey look dejected.

“Shit, we overstepped, didn’t we. I’m sorry,” Tony says, quiet. He’s the one who reaches out to take his stone back this time, but Pepper quickly closes her hand around both stones, holding them close to her chest.

“No!” She clears her throat, trying again without shouting this time and hoping she’s doing it right. “No, I, uh, this was really nice of you. To bring me here. And I love both these rocks. So...I would be honored to have you both court me?”

“Seriously?” Tony says, looking surprised.

She nods. “I like both of you, and if you like me, then sure. Let’s give it a try.”

Rhodey laughs, swooping in and pulling her close for a hug. Tony throws his arms around both of them, giving Rhodey a little kiss over her shoulder.

“I kind of assumed you two were an item,” Pepper confesses, smiling as the two mermen hug her. “I wouldn’t have wanted to come between you.”

“We’d been arguing about the best way to ask you for two weeks now,” Rhodey tells her, tucking his tail underneath her so she can stand on it and not have to tread water between them.

“Guess we need to teach you a few more things about merfolk,” Tony says, grinning.

Pepper sighs and leans her head back against Tony’s shoulder, looking up at the brightly colored ceiling. “I’d like that very much.”

#pepperhony #pepper potts #tony stark #james rhodes #pepperrhodeytony #fanfic #au #*mine #november fic challenge

18 notes · View notes

avalindin · 7 years

Text

Drawn

Lycan Tom fic

Chapter 17: Let it all out

________

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

________

She only held his hand for a moment and let go in the same amount of time. Anita met his eyes and gave him a small smile, she owed him that much.

“Excuse me.”

She stepped around him and made her way to the house without him or Gertie. There was a lump deep and growing in her throat as she pushed open the door to the house. Anita wasn’t ready for the weak arms that found their way around her neck. She was petrified as the young girl hugging her had backed away, practically beaming to Anita. Her hair was long, much longer than Anita had ever had her hair as it rained copper down her back. Her fading brown eyes were filled with so much happiness that it made Anita want to cry. She almost didn’t see the tube of oxygen running under her nose or the tank that was slung around her shoulders.

“You are so beautiful! These asses made you seem so normal. Are you really a witch?!”

“Now, now, Dearie. Let’s give her some room. She’s a Supreme if you can believe it.”

Anita saw the dazzled look in the young woman’s eyes like she was meeting Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. She would have lost her mind if she met Elsa. Fairies may have just been her thing.

“You must be Rey.”

“Yeah, could you tell by the dying body or the pale as hell skin.”

Anita was stunned to see someone like Rey, so weak yet full of nothing but life.

“Rey! Why are you up?!”

They turned to Donovan as he stopped in his tracks and met Anita’s eyes.

“H-Hey, Anita…”

“Donovan. Am I going to have to kick your ass again?”

She could feel Tom behind her ready to pull her away. Donovan pushed his hair back and chuckled nervously.

“I need to properly apologize for what happened.”

“He was scared,” interrupted Rey as she took Donovan’s hand, “He thought he was going to have to give me up. I promise to keep him in line, Mrs. Gertie.”

“I know, Rey. Let’s go.”

Anita headed for the nearest chair as Tom stopped her.

“No, this way.”

Anita obeyed as she made her way to the dining room with everyone, sitting at the large dining room table.

“Do you need help,” asked Tom as Donovan disappeared into the kitchen.

“You can if you’d like.”

Anita felt pressure as Rey’s wondrous eyes found her again. She wasn’t sure what to say.

“How do you like it here?”

“I’m with family and it helps me. Where’s yours?”

“Somewhere back east. New Hampshire. They wanted to send me away but I wanted to live as full a life as I could before I croaked. I got a full ride to Minnesota, well, this semester got transferred to some college a few towns North. They were really nice to me and Donovan but that happens when I can ride out my death card.”

“What… um.”

“Oh, it’s okay. It’s mostly respiratory. My life expectancy maxes out in another six months but I get bit within the week and we’ll go from there.”

“Seems like you got everything planned out.”

She could understand how she would want something like this.

“Are you okay?”

She just couldn’t understand. She kept her mouth closed, knowing the hurt words threatening to break free would do damage.

“Anita? Is she okay?”

“How did he tell you, Rey?”

“You mean how did I find out? Some guys were trying to rob me on campus. Donovan saw and stopped them but they nicked my tank and I almost went into cardiac arrest. The way his eyes turned eased me and when he ran all the way to the hospital… I’ve never felt so safe in my life and I knew I wasn’t going to find that anywhere. He was always by me side after that. Then, two months ago, he asked me what I was doing with the rest of my life. I said ‘I don’t know. What can you get done in a year?’ I kissed him and he broke down.”

She turned her head to Donovan, blushing as he returned with plates of food for her and Anita. It was strange to see him change so much.

“Is it true that you almost fucked him up with a single finger?”

“Yes, and I learned my lesson on respect.”

“Shame,” laughed Rey, “I missed you being an ass.”

“I will for you.”

“When did he propose?”

“I didn’t want him to. I wanted to meet the family first. You all are so welcoming.”

“Well, we are glad that you are here,” smiled Tom from the kitchen.

The lump returned as she looked to Rey and Donovan, hand in hand as they sat closer together. Tom saw how Anita was growing distant. Rey saw as well and was cautious in case she snapped, Rey wasn’t exactly one of them yet. Anita blinked and let a few tears fall as Gertie was too late to reach her.

“Why are you so happy?”

“I don’t understand.”

“This isn’t easy and you’re here like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.”

Her chest hurt and the lump went higher in her throat. Donovan put his arm around Rey to keep her safe.

“Anita,” called Gertie as she tried to reach for her, “let’s not scare her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? She has the fucking Cliff notes. She has the softer way in!”

Tom stepped between her and Gertie.

“Stop this. Now isn’t the time for this.”

“Then what do you want me to tell her?! Donovan did it the right way. You abducted me, asshole! You turned me without my damn permission and the marriage was supposed to keep me safe!”

“I said stop!”

Anita felt her skin burning with anger as she realized she was inches away from Tom’s face. She took a step back and looked to the room turned to her.

“What is she taking about?”

Anita took as a fast step forward to Rey as everyone got to their feet.

“Look. This isn’t a fucking fairytale. I came from a bad place. My family murdered their own blood for power and my aunt didn’t bat an eyelash when my fiancé held me down and got me pregnant. I didn’t keep it and was this close to killing them. Tom ruined it and slaughtered everyone. I thought he was coming for me. I ran for my life and the further I went, the harder my past came crashing down on me. Tom loved me and I was not used to that. I let my guard down for the slightest moment and they came back. They came back and took mine and Tom’s baby from me. Now, I don’t know if I want this anymore.”

“But you weren’t the only one that lost the baby.”

Anita shook her head, knowing Rey was right. She wiped her tears and backed away from Rey. Her legs took her further as she made her way down the hall to the front door. Her ears picked up on Tom’s boots.

“Anita?”

She looked over her shoulder to Tom racing down the edge of the front porch to try and catch up.

“No!”

She sped off but Tom was ready this time as he leapt from the railing and raced after her. Gertie watched them disappear. She turned to Rey as she appeared form nowhere.

“I like her. I hope they’ll be okay.”

“I hope so too. Let’s get some food in you. You’ll need it, Dearie.”

Anita let out all of her frustration as she tried to lose Tom but her scent rang strong in his nose as he followed her every step. He leapt forward and sent them both crashing into the mud on the ground. Anita got to her feet and pushed Tom away from her.

“Stop running, Anita! Why are you always fucking running?!”

“Leave it alone, Tom. I’m warning you.”

He took a step forward and was blasted back as he crashed into the nearest tree. He shook himself off and glared to her and her trembling arms.

“Go ahead. Hurt me. Do what you need to.”

“Don’t…”

“Go on,” he urged as he pushed her shoulder.

Anita’s hand shot up and sucker punched Tom as he stumbled in the mud.

“What do you want from me?!”

“Isn’t it clear,” he shrugged as he stopped in front of her.

He cupped the side of her face as everything came crashing down. She panted and turned in the other direction, running, pushing herself as she left Tom behind her. She was hurt. She was helped, loved, accepted. They were things that she never knew and the feelings terrified her as she looked back.

Anita tripped and splashed around the freezing water as she realized she ran clear into the Pacific Ocean. She shook and drug herself back to dry land. Her whole body was frozen as she trembled by herself. She didn’t hear Tom behind her as she looked out to the open sea. The lump went down and a scream escaped her. Anita inhaled and panted as she failed to compose herself. Her eyes closed and she saw it.

Matilda. Tristan.

They were gone and burned into her mind as she remembered the pulse of blood that Matilda swallowed. She opened her mouth again and shrieked to the high heavens. The waves ripped back from her magic and carried up into the sky. Flocks of birds flew faster to the sunset and the clouds on the skyline swirled away from her grief. Her knees gave way and Tom skid himself to a stop to catch her just in time.

His arms wrapped tightly around her as she continued to scream and curse to the open space in front of her. Tears fell from the both of them as he rocked her back and forth.

“Let it out, baby. Don’t hold it in…”

Anita gasped for whatever breath she could as her head spun. She turned into Tom’s arms and flung her own around his neck. She sobbed into his chest as the waves came crashing back. She shook in his arms like a child and everything began to be lifted from their shoulders. They stayed on the beach long after the sunset.

Tom took it upon himself to lift Anita into his arms and make their way home. Anita didn’t try and get free or run. She knew there was nowhere else to go or that she wanted to be. She waved in and out of sleep as her body heat tried to warm her. Tom ran as fast as he could to the house, trying not to make her colder than she already was. He ran across the large backyard and up the porch steps to where Felix was waiting.

He followed as quickly as he could behind Tom as he watched him strip Anita’s freezing clothes and wrap her in the nearest, clean towel. Anita could smell the house around her as it lulled her to sleep, had it not been for the winter and frigid ocean water freezing her. Tom carried her all the way up to the bathroom and turned the faucet to a bearable heat. He flung his phone to the counter and sat with Anita as the shower water made steam when it touched her skin.

He soaped up a wash cloth and scrubbed the sand from her body the best he could. He pulled the towel away to wash the rest of her. He stopped as Anita looked up to him with her tears-stained eyes. He put the wash cloth down and stroked the shortened hair from her face. Tom did miss the long hair but it looked more now the same length when he found her in Seattle.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she kissed his hand.

“I’m sorry too.”

Tom turned himself and laid on the bottom of the tub with Anita in his arms. He could feel her muscles and her breathing as ease, hoping that Anita would never run again.

The bed was warm but she knew he was gone. They hadn’t talked since the tub the night before. Her head turned into the mattress and all she wanted was his scent. She felt the towel dry and bunched around her. Tom had given her some space and was respectful to not push himself onto her. She smelled the pillows deeper, sensing smoke as it made her wake.

“Tom?”

She turned seeing the room empty. Anita moved from the bed, feeling refreshed as she pulled on some clothes and boots. She wrapped Gertie’s shawl around her shoulders and stopped once she reached the hallway. Her head turned right to what would have been the nursery. She stopped in the doorway, seeing it mostly bare. Tom had a vacuum in the corner as most of the smaller wooden pieces were picked up from the carpet.

A bit of white got her attention near the closet as she knelt down and found a small torn sleeping angel that she remembered was in the crib. Anita fought back her tears and fixed the seams of the doll with a simple spell. She held the doll close and made her way through the house. She’d been gone for so long and now she took her time to remember the rooms and the halls and the sound of Felix as he called out to her.

Anita made her way down the stairs as she found him eating a plate of food that she guessed was supposed to be hers.

“It’s okay,” she told him, “I’m not hungry right now anyway.”

Felix turned back to the food, gobbling everything down as Anita felt a chill breeze make its way from the screen door behind her. She followed the scent of burning wood, seeing Tom’s back burning the last of whatever was in the nursery. He turned, crying as he tried to wipe his tears away. Anita stopped him as she turned him into her arms and cradled him as he did for her the night before. His arms wrapped around her waist.

“I didn’t mean it. I came back home and…”

“Don’t worry about it. Rey was right. We both lost something.”

Anita kissed him, lingering so that he would know that she wasn’t going to move. He smiled but hesitated when he saw the angel in her hand.

“I didn’t want to get rid of it. I couldn’t find it.”

“I had an idea for this. Something like closure for us. Come on.”

Anita took Tom’s hand and lead him away to the side of the greenhouse that was hidden from view. She stopped in the middle. Tom knew it was the exact spot where he proposed to her. She pressed her hand to the side of the greenhouse and pulled a bit of metal out towards her. It was only a little bit.

Tom watched as the metal split and twisted into a tiny swing. He was confused but understood as Anita made the push little doll into hued stone and set it on the coiled swing. She brought her hand up and pushed the bottom and let the wind take over as the angel looked like it was getting rocked to sleep. Tom turned her and held her as a tear fell down her face.

“The ground’s not ready but I think I’ll plant something nice.”

“I’m sure whatever you pick will be beautiful.”

He brushed away her tear and kissed her. Anita smiled and buried her nose into his chest. She didn’t want to smell the metal or the last of the burning wood. She wanted Tom more than anything and she’d do whatever she could to make everything up to him as he had done with her.

Things fell back into a pattern.

“Do you feel any different?”

Anita worked in the bookstore whenever it was need. Just a few times a week, she’d help as much as she wanted and would run home and make herself useful there.

“Yes and no,” shrugged Elsa as she stroked her visible belly.

Anita looked in wonder only sensing one baby in her friend. She could hear her insides turn as Elsa tried to shake herself.

“I wonder what this one will be like. India and the twins were conceived before I turned. I don’t know why I was such a late bloomer.”

“Timing,” shrugged Anita as she helped Elsa stock boxes in her back-storage room.

She had stopped crying, realizing that dwelling on the loss of the baby would do nothing for her but bring her misery.

“Are you going to try again?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I want to but I don’t want it to be like we have to. The packs here have kids upon kids and that’s just a lot of pressure. How do I have a conversation like that with Tom?”

“Being honest is as good as you can get.”

“I just don’t want to feel like some cumsatchel that has to lay on her back and get filled so I can get filled and pop out a litter for everyone’s expectations.”

Elsa giggled as she wrapped her arms tightly around Anita’s shoulders. Anita pushed herself each and every single day to push herself from who she used to be. The little Louisiana witch that slinked in the shadows would stay to herself and break under anyone’s word. Now, she braved the passing winter and refused to be idle. The house smelled like her again and her greenhouse grew past anything she’d ever dreamed of. She’d taken sorted her many vials and took up Elsa’s offer to make ails for her store.

She was beginning to feel something different as she would look to Tom. Her fear slowly faded away and for once… Anita was happy.

The only thing that scared her now were her dreams.

She was always there and she always held the little baby in her arms. Night after night, she would get further, seeing more but the shadow was always there.

“Stop…”

Anita only pushed herself forward, almost making it to the kitchen as she jumped from the clap of thunder.

She was shaken as darkening rain clouds rolled in over the woods. Anita looked to her phone, seeing it was only 6:30 in the morning. The first day of March and the snow was finally gone. Only the freezing winds stayed. Anita threw on one of her dresses and looked out the wind. Like her dreams there was a shadow that lingered near the tree line. She crossed her arms as the shadow shrunk to what looked like a wolf or dog. It shrunk further as its freighting blue eyes met her miss-colored ones.

“You stay away from my family.”

Its jaw moved, possibly to huff at her as it turned and walked into the woods. She turned and felt herself be pulled downstairs as Tom was loading bags of food and water into the house.

“I knew you wanted to go to the store but everyone’s worried about the storm. Should be a day at most. I need to go by the school and drop off the water.”

Anita watched with a watering mouth as Tom peeled the coat from his body and shook off what water he could. He looked up and smiled to her as he moved to the laundry room for fresh clothes.

“I should be gone for an hour, at least. Food’s ready so is the back-up generator.”

The second his shirt was stripped away, a rumbled filled Anita’s chest as she wanted a piece of him. She still felt timid but she wanted him more. He turned back and was surprised as Anita pulled him down and kissed him passionately. Tom was surprised at her strength as she grabbed ahold of him and pushed him into the island. He smiled as he pulled at her dress, careful not to tear it from her body. Anita didn’t realize how hot and heavy she was, grinding into Tom until she felt his hand reach between her legs.

Anita pushed herself away, panting as her whole face turned red. Tom followed after her, ready to take her until her hands shot up and stopped him.

“Wait! I-I…”

“Fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tom disappeared, leaving Anita to herself.

“Way to go, crazy.”

Anita thought about going to the greenhouse but was stunned as Tom jerked her around and lifted her to the edge of the island. He was quick to push her dress up and nearly rip her panties aside as he arched his head forward and dove head first into her sex. Anita cried out as Tom’s mouth pressed to her and sucked at her clit.

She wasn’t sure whether to pull Tom away or push him closer but she knew she didn’t want him to stop. He hunched into her as her legs dangled over his large shoulders. Something feral had snapped in him the moment Anita pushed him into the island. What was eating Anita out wasn’t him but the taste of her nearly dripping on his tongue made him want her even more.

He let one of her legs go and curled his finger into her. Her body tensed to his finger, clenching around him as he kept his mouth to her. Tom pushed another finger in, slowly fucking her as he remembered the delicious moans and whines falling from her mouth. He stopped and pulled himself back up Anita’s writhing body as she tried to sit up. He pulled her off the edge and dropped her on the nearest stool, shifting his hips forward as he grinded himself into Anita’s open legs with purpose.

She cried out, sensitive and ready to Tom to fuck her over the nearest counter surface as she screamed his name. Her body was on fire and she couldn’t take it any longer. Tom kissed her lips and pawed at her skin.

“This,” he huffed, shaking his head, “This is either going to happen or its not.”

“Please, Tom. No…”

“I’m tired of your games, Anita. You either want me, all of me or you need more time. Don’t test our nature, baby. I may just rip you to shreds.”

Anita flared her nostrils and dug her nails into the counter top as she watched Tom walk away and redress. She moved from the stool and fixed her dress the best she could. Her jaw was turned suddenly by his strong finger as her smell lingered on his skin.

“Think about what you want, Anita.”

He kissed her and left it at that as he disappeared from the house with the last of the water. The sound of roaring wheels of his truck vanished under the rain.

She sat by herself under the flicking lights for a while. For a minute, she could not tell if she was asleep again or not but she knew what was waiting outside. Anita closed her eyes, wanting to go back to the dream but felt the shadow pulling her, almost beckoning her to the back yard. She paced to the back door, not stopping as she marched into the falling sheets of rain to the dog that trotted towards her.

“That was your only warning, mutt!”

Her hands glowed with power, lighting her way to the animal but it was steadfast, almost waiting for her as something began to lull her as it did before; this time, involuntarily. Anita looked into the dog’s eye as its blue filled with darkness. She was comforted as her knees gave way and she fell into a slumber. Thunder filled the sky around them as the large dog laid near Anita’s side and watched Felix behind her.

“Don’t worry, Felix,” said the voice, “She is only sleeping.”

He found himself in her dreams again. Anita was getting stronger and it would only be easily for her to be found. He saw Anita’s nose bleeding as she pushed herself forward. His arm reached out and held her in place for once. He could feel something lurking in the kitchen with a large smile on her face. It was now or never.

“Anita, please! You need to stop now!”

The dream started again as he was frozen in place. She used her strength to turn her head and glare to him.

“When I wake up, I’m going for you.”

Felix fled for the safety of the porch as he cried out for Anita. The dog closed its eyes and prayed that his actions wouldn’t get him killed. Instead, he focused on Anita and how she’d grown. Her hair curled black like his mother’s as he remembered and her eyes, he would never forget those eyes anywhere. One like Lynette’s and one like his own. He laid his head on top of Anita and sent a scent out strong enough that it would only alert the two people he needed.

“Thank you, Tom but we’re fine here. How is she holding up?”

“She’s… trying.”

Gertie shook off the dripping rain from her coat as she buckled herself in. Tom started the truck and hurried from the parking lot as cars began to fill behind him. He was careful and thankful that the packs in the areas were helping with the storm and were all prepared if anything were to happen.

“No episodes?”

Tom blushed as Gertie smirked out the corner of his eye.

“If she’s trying, that’s all that matters.”

“You’re not the on… never mind.”

“She will come around. The women in my bloodline have always been timid and fickle to a nerve.”

“Some nerve,” snickered Tom as he turned for the long road toward their homes. The truck was protected by the trees but one uprooted tree and they would be stuck. If it was just them, they’d have the tree cleared in no time but it would blow their covered from everyone else that was human.

Tom opened his window a bit and took in the fresh rain smell. Another inhale and something sunk deep in his chest. His knuckles wrapped around the steering wheel and his foot pressed to the gas metal. He looked over his shoulder to Gertie as her eyes whited over and her body slumped to the side of the cab.

“Gertie!”

Her breath strained as she tried fighting whatever was happening to her.

“Just… drive!”

Tom didn’t argue as he drove as fast as the truck and mud would allow him. House after house he sped, needing the memories of Christmas to disappear back into his mind but he prayed like hell that Matilda was back.

He raced up the driveway and threw the truck into a higher gear as it drove straight through to the backyard. Tom slammed on the brake and jumped into the storm as he saw something dark covering Anita.

“Anita! No!”

He snarled and raced for the darkness as it lifted its head to him. Tom crashed into the puddles as he looked into the eyes of the dog. A voice filled his mind.

“Thomas…”

“W-Who are you?!”

“She needs your help or she’ll never come back.”

“Get away from her or I will skin you.”

The dog lifted its head higher and stared deep into Tom’s soul. Tom’s body fell numb next to Anita as she remained unconscious.

“What did you do to her?”

“She has done this to herself. Dreamscaping is for the dark arts, it is draining her. You have to stop her or Matilda will find her.

“What are you talking about?”

Tom felt his eyes fog as he was surrounded by light. He opened his eye, slowly seeing Anita’s back.

“Anita?”

She didn’t hear him as she followed what looked like another version of herself. His heart broke as he saw the dream Anita smiling and holding a small cooing baby in her arms. Tom could remember her screams. The shadow struck him across the face and made him focus through the blurred lines.

“Thomas, don’t! This isn’t real.”

Anita took a step forward, ignoring the voices behind her as she was able to turn herself and follow the disappearing image. Both Tom and the shadow turned their heads up to the kitchen to the scent that made both of their bloods boil. Anita watched the walking illusion grow taller and slimmer as Matilda smiled to her niece.

“Hello there, sugar.”

Everything seemed to slow.

The bundle disappeared as blood spilled from the edge of the blanket to the floor. Matilda’s hand shot up, blackened to try and poison Anita as she couldn’t find it in her to move. The shadow of her aunt’s hand almost overcame her until Tom’s familiar arm jerked her back and wrapped his arms tightly around her. The shadow behind them blasted Matilda back, vaporizing her as the shadows eyes turned a frighteningly blue.

Tom’s eye shot open, looking down to Anita as she gasped for breath. Their heads turned to the ring for light that appeared at the dog’s neck. Gertie panted in rage as she waved her hand and made it sleep. Its limp body fell to the muddy ground underneath it.

“What was that?”

Gertie picked up the dog and lifted it over her shoulder like it had weighted nothing.

“Tom, get her into the house,” she commanded as she ignored Anita.

Tom pulled Anita to her feet as she watched Gertie disappear into the forest without another word. She was silent as the porch door was locked behind her. Tom flicked on a switch, seeing the power had been knocked out.

“Dammit. Stay in the house. I’m going to look at the generator.”

“O-Okay.”

Tom disappeared outside again, leaving Anita to move upstairs out of instinct. Her veins burned cold as she remembered Matilda’s voice and her hand so close to her. She had every question of her past come flooding at once. She was grateful for the shadow that saved her and Tom. She could only wonder where Gertie had taken him or what she would do to him. It wouldn’t be the first time someone showed up unexpected to their doorstep but they’d make sure it’d be the last.

The snap of lights only made her turn them off to conserve what they could until the storm passed, the last thing Anita wanted was to be trapped in the house with Tom with no power. She decided to use the clawfoot bath tub in one of the other bathrooms for solitude. Her steady hands turned the knobs as hot water filled. She stripped off her freezing clothes, not caring where they fell and settled herself into the water. She turned the water to a trickle to add to the thunder outside.

“Think about what you want, Anita…”

She closed her eyes and thought. The house. There was so much land and the house barely took up part of it and the greenhouse only took a fraction. There was so much potential. The greenhouse was giving her nothing but promise. Felix was alive and well, enjoying having other people aside from Anita. She knew she didn’t need anything else. More than anything, she wanted Tom again and not in that way.

Well, of course in that way. There was a very surreal itch she wanted him to scratch. She wanted so much from him again like before Christmas night, back when things were new and exciting. Behind her doubt, she warmly smiled to the possibility of trying to have another baby with Tom.

Tom huffed his breath as he raced up the steps to the bedroom bath. He turned the knob fully to hot and hurried to get warm. His clothes flung off and he washed off the dried rain and mud that covered his skin. His heart was racing the entire time from the drive from town to then. His mind went to the dog and how vulnerable it made itself. He scrubbed everything he could and stepped into the bedroom that was sent into darkness again.

“Shit.”

He huffed his breath and dressed himself.

“Anita!”

It was almost instant as the lights went off.

“I’m okay!”

“The generator’s gone. The wind must have knocked another cord loose. Be careful. I’m going to start a fire in the living room. Take your time.”

Anita listened to the pounding of Tom’s feet as he ran up and down the stairs. She sank down and lingered under the waterline she found under the lightning flashes. Her fingers played with the foggy swirls of mud she’d scrubbed away. Her toes pulled the plug and let the dirty water empty. The more water was pulled down the drain, the more she sank to the bottom, letting her problems go with it. She ignored the racing thumps as Tom appeared above her and pulled her from the water. Anita was startled as she pulled herself out of his grasp.

“What the hell?!”

“You didn’t answer and I thought something happened!”

Anita sat up and covered herself as the water ran down her sides.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She waited for the longest time until she looked up, confused to the smile on Tom’s face.

“I’m sorry. I should have known you’d be alright. The fire’s almost ready. Have you seen the matches?”

“Laundry room drawer. Top cupboard with the flashlights.”

He cupped her face and smiled.

“I love you.”

Tom kissed her cheek and walked from the bathroom, leaving Anita alone. For once, the house didn’t intimidate her. It was a snap, more like the last of the water noisily making its last descent down the drain as Anita finally moved. She could hear Tom humming as the top cupboard creaked open. Her hand grabbed her silk robe that hug on the nearby hook. The dully dried her hair and let the towel drop wherever it did.

With one foot in front of the other, she set forward. She wasn’t scared or knew what she was feeling but she knew…

Anita made her way down the stairs and heard Tom chuckle as the fire grew in front of him. She looked to the makeshift bed on the floor and the jug of water near the couch for the night. She didn’t care about any of it but she knew then what she wanted. Tom got to his feet and wiped his hands together, glad that he didn’t set himself on fire. Something had changed about him. It was the shadow. It was the push he needed. Tom felt whole again, keeping Anita safe and he was glad that Anita wasn’t mad for disturbing her. He knew she was alright but she needed to know that he was there if she needed him and he hoped like hell that it would work.

He could feel Anita behind him as her arms wrapped perfectly around his waist. He rubbed her arms.

“I’ll get a good look at the generator but we’ll be stuck for today.”

It was comforting to have her touch him. Anita smiled and felt her skin burning for more. Her robe tie loosened as she slowly turned Tom. The smile on his face lessened as he saw Anita’s wet skin revealing itself. He swore he’d wait but he failed to take a step back as Anita pulled him down gently by the back of his and kissed his lips. Anita needed words to come from her but her hunger only made it worse. She guided one of Tom’s hands behind her, lowering it to the hem of her robe as his reactions of her took over. That hand grabbed at her bottom, pulling as close to him as he could manage as the other jerked Anita’s head back by her wet hair.

He looked to the ember glow in her eyes, leaving a noticeable rumble to his chest.

“Anita,” he panted as his fingers curled.

“Stop giving me a warning and fucking tear into me already.”

Anita slid her hand between them and gripped the life in his cock. Tom moaned, thrusting his hips into Anita’s hand. She wasn’t ready for Tom to wrap his fingers around Anita’s throat and drag her across the living room.

“Consider it done.”

He shoved Anita to the sheets on the floor as he ripped the clothes from his body. Anita licked her lips and tried to lunge for Tom only for him to pin her down and grind himself on her thigh. She whined as she tried to reach for Tom with no success. He only chuckled as he ran his tongue up her neck. His heart raced as Anita moaned for him.

“You want this.”

“Please…”

He buried his face into Anita’s neck, slowly making his way down her body as his mouth pushed away the lapels of her robe. His mouth watered more as he looked to her wet skin. He let her hands go and pawed at her breast, kissing and lapping at them with vigor.

“I may just tear you to pieces but how much do you want it?”

Anita smiled and wrapped her fingers tightly around Tom’s throat. Tom fought for what breath he could, needing more of her strength.

“Just you, darling. All of you.”

She hurled Tom into the floor next to her and climbed his lap as she grinded herself into Tom. His fingers curled into the sides of her bottom as she arched herself forward and clashed her lips to his. There was a tingle to the tip of her tongue as Tom’s strength tried to outmatch her. She lowered herself further down his lap as he helped himself closer to the heat between her legs. Anita’s heart raced faster than it ever did before.

She spread her legs, letting Tom guide her down on himself as she slowed him and feel the very needed stretch. Tom’s mouth opened, moaning breathlessly to Anita as his head rolled back to the floor. Anita braced herself on Tom’s chest, doing everything in her power to not give in so easily as they both moved together. Anita curled her fingernails into his shoulders, filling her nostrils with his dripping fresh blood.

Anita lunged forward, dragging her tongue across the slash as Tom’s veins ran with complete bliss. He wrapped one arm around Anita and the other around the back of her waist as he turned her to her back. She let him go, looking up to him as his embers burned into her. He ignored the healing wounds, needing to be under her skin and pounding her harder into the floor. Anita wrapped her legs around Tom’s waist, holding onto him as he filled her to satisfaction again and again and again. Tom buried his growls into the crook of her neck, picking the perfect place as his long canines pierced her skin and drank her blood.

He drove his hips deeper, feeling her shift underneath him with his hand holding her in place by the hip. The taste of her fueled Tom as he could feel her trembling. Anita’s voice matched the howls outside the wind with the storm refusing to calm for them. She arched into Tom as he caught her and refused to slow his hips. He held Anita up, thrusting wildly into her as she came. The beauty of her release and clenching around his cock made him feral, almost losing control as his nails dug deep into the floor.

He steadied himself, hunching over her as he emptied his frustrations and want into Anita. His feral instincts still wanted her, wanting to fuck her into the ground as she came again but he couldn’t. He had enough and when they woke, well, they would see what happened from there. Tom shook himself aware as he placed Anita on the messy blanket and pulled out of her. His head spun for a moment and he knew it was her scent, bonding again with her after so much time apart. He looked to Anita, seeing her writhe as she regained her breath. She would have been a vision with her longer hair but Tom was in no position to be picky about little things.

Tom pulled Anita to his chest as they fell asleep to the sounds of the stormy winds outside their house. He wrapped his arms around her, praying Matilda would never return or the dog, whatever it was. He turned his nose into Anita’s hair, calming him into a sure sleep.

_______

Tagged: @808-anon, @angelus80, @angryschnauzer, @antyc67, @atinyfangirl, @audasia25, @cerys1212, @clairelovexo, @damageditem, @echantedbytwh, @eve1978, @hallotom, @itsjustelen, @jennphoenix, @justahopeless-dreamer, @lizandbooks, @lokilockedcougar, @lostsoul1011, @lovehiddles4everme, @marvelousmissfit, @mazda098, @megaflowerfangirl, @missdibley, @mrshiddelston, @mypreciousmind1, @nicole-stewart-loves-cookies, @osb1anon, @ourladybinxthings, @peskipixi, @prplprincez, @ririsutty, @roamingbadger, @sarabeth72, @servent-alearika, @sevanya, @shamvictoria11, @siyoteodiara, @sketchbookthingz, @starrynight35, @startingtoenjoylife, @the-lady-mischief, @tinaferraldo, @tomkurbikston, @vdcster, @wolfsmom1

#lycans #tom hiddleston #angst #feels #smut #fanfic

25 notes · View notes

tysonrunningfox · 7 years

Text

A.r.v.e.l.i.a.

Is the theme of my day, apparently. This takes place right after/concurrent with Chapter 19 of Eret III and builds up to Chapter 20 which I totally wrote today and will hopefully post tonight.

The worst part about the apple tart is that it’s delicious.

Aurelia doesn’t want it, because she hasn’t eaten one in a decade, since that first morning her mother was gone and her dad went to get breakfast because he couldn’t do anything else right. And Stoick was crying and too small to be all alone. She just remembers holding her brother and staring at the front door, halfway sure that her dad was going to leave too until he came back with breakfast and started telling her that everything was going to be ok.

And it wasn’t ok, of course, it was awful and scary and sad, and it seemed like he didn’t hear her that morning or any time after. And now apple tarts just taste like hopes destined to be crushed, and maybe it’s appropriate that she has one today.

She’s going to help her stupid new big brother save dragons and she’s going to go see Arvid again, like that’s not a disastrously beautiful dead end. Maybe she’s once again, fully composed of hopes just waiting to be crushed.

“You ok?” Mom asks as she’s finishing up her breakfast, but honestly, she looks like she’s winning the discombobulated award, so Aurelia doesn’t take her up on the gentle offer of comfort.

“He’s nice sometimes,” Aurelia shrugs, “I never take it too seriously, it normally means he’s about to do something ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” her mom snorts, more of an exhale through her nose than anything else, “usually it means he already did.”

“One time he left a baby dragon in my room. He was really nice when I got home, Phlegma made us dinner and it was decent and I thought it was a good night until I went upstairs and this gronckle was all over me.” She stands up and shakes her head. “Baby gronckles seem pretty big when you’re the shortest nine-year-old on the island.”

Mom sets her hand on Aurelia’s, comforting and understanding, and that makes all of this worse, because she knows what Dad does and she’s here dealing with it too. Suddenly, Aurelia wants to tell her the truth, about the dragons, about the attacks on neighboring islands, about the bombings. She’d have something useful to say, Aurelia’s sure of it.

But she promised Eret and that means something too.

Yeah, it means she’s putting a lot of faith in Eret and her dad thinks Eret’s just like him, and that could all come crumbling down on her apple tart filled self, but…she’s risking it. And she should leave before she rethinks all that.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking with you.” Mom pats her hand, “or me, or Eret for that matter, but mostly I don’t know how he thinks it’s going to work out with you.”

“I don’t think he does think about it,” Aurelia laughs, pats her Mom’s shoulder and sighs. “I’m going out. Well, not out, because it’s Berk and it’s morning and there’s nowhere to go, but I’m going to go walk around and clear my head.” She almost asks if her mom is ok, because she cares about that, and suddenly, in this moment, they seem like the two people that her dad has fucked over the most. But she doesn’t ask because she’s not ready for the answer.

She’s not ready to be lied to, to hear ‘I’m ok’ in the exact tone she’s always said it.

“Have fun,” Mom waves her off, “I have to say, it’s kind of nice knowing one of my kids will stay on island.”

“Keeping track of me is easy, I will claim that one, I never go anywhere.” Aurelia waves one last time as she walks out of the front door and runs down the hill, because this feels like escaping and pursuing all at once. The Sigurdsons’ Nadder tries to greet her, which no one ever seems to realize is only a couple runes from eat her, and she ducks onto a smaller forest path.

It’s not a great idea, given the morning she’s had, to take the long, quiet way around the island, because there’s too much time to think and too many things to think about, but apparently it’s the path with the least dragons so she takes it, skirting along the shore.

She doesn’t hate Berk. Not really, not conceptually. She’s always kind of wished to be somewhere else, but that’s because of the dragons and her family and the fact that she’s so fundamentally unacceptable here. But she likes the beaches, and she likes the steep cliffs, and even though she’s always cold, she likes the cold weather. She’s always kind of envied the way that the cold drives everyone else together, even if she’s always been left on the outside.

It’s like she gets this place, in every way except for the dragon obsession, and that’s inexcusable.

The sun is high in the sky by the time she makes it to the Hofferson place, climbing up the horribly maintained side-path to their house. The sea-facing side of the house looks even worse, all raw wood and salt stained paint and she rests her hand on it.

“Thor’s beard,” she swears under her breath when a splinter bites into the palm of her hand, jerking away from the house and sucking on the wound until the splinter comes out onto her tongue. She flicks it onto the ground and steps on it for good measure, looking up at the window and wondering not so idly if Arvid is shirtless again.

She wouldn’t complain necessarily. Or at all. It would make her argument a lot less sound, especially since she hasn’t considered what she’s going to say yet, but she’d enjoy every verbal stumble to look at him. Plus, it’s not like it’s hard anyway, it’s just ‘dragons are blowing up Berserker shit, we’re going to talk about helping them later, show up’.

That won’t take that long to finesse, really.

Maybe he’d let her inside again, if she didn’t argue back too much, and she could see if he still has that ridiculous stuffed dragon that he used to. Maybe if the light level in the room were low enough he’d forget she wasn’t just another one of his conquests, and she’d have a decent way to spend the rest of the morning and afternoon until meeting with Fuse and Eret.

She thinks about knocking, because that might be normal, even though the first thing she’d announce is that she’s half a day early for an appointment he doesn’t know about, but she also doesn’t want to talk to him while her breath still smells like apple tart and she can’t think of anything but how easy it would be to hit her somewhere it hurts. Because everything hurts. The sun hurts, too bright behind a veil of clouds so pale grey they look white, and her ankles hurt, where they’re cold and chapped through the fraying of the fur in her boots.

And her head hurts, because her dad doesn’t know what he does and even though she has a new mom and a new brother and a new, stupid quest dragging her everywhere, it still has the capacity to hurt her.

She flops down on the porch, giving absolutely zero thought to being quiet because Arvid’s probably asleep or not here anyway, and it’s a small victory that she doesn’t get any splinters in her butt. Like, it wouldn’t have been all bad, maybe, because Arvid owes her one for nursing some dumb, superficial injury and that’d be a way to get her foot in the door.

Or her butt in the door.

And her butt isn’t really her best foot to put forward but—The door opens behind her and she nearly falls off the porch, scrabbling for her hold and getting another splinter in her finger.

Fuck.

“Who’s out here?—Oh. It’s you.” Arvid glowers at her from the doorway, tattoos mostly healed, hair down around his shoulders, and fuck him for looking hot right now. It’s first thing in the damn morning, can’t he be gross and sleepy eyed like everyone else?

No, of course not, sleepy eyes on him look like the sweet intersection of muscles and broody glares and her face feels hot.

She sets her jaw, “again, you has a name. I’m sure you could remember it if you tried really hard.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you later.”

“What?” He scratches his head and yawns and she bets he’s warm to the touch, that his blankets are still all tangled up from him lying in them.

“This afternoon. Don’t worry about it yet.”

“Again, what?”

“I need to talk to you this afternoon, that’s what I’m doing here,” she rolls her eyes like she’s judging his confusion and he runs his hand through his hair, squinting up at the sun like he’s trying to tell what time it is. “It’s still morning, yes, but I need to talk to you later.”

“Whatever,” he steps back from the door, his face falling back into shadow, “’m not awake enough for this nonsense.”

He shuts the door and she kicks herself, because she didn’t say anything that made sense and what kind of loser just…skulks around someone else’s porch all day? And now she has to sit here with the horrible truth of knowing what Arvid fucking Hofferson looks like first thing in the morning and if she leaves, it’ll look like he scared her off, which is obviously impossible.

Something shifts in the barn, probably his dragon, and she draws her knees to her chest, chewing on her fingertip and trying to suck the splinter out. His house needs some paint or some repairs. He should invite her inside to inspect the rest of it.

And you know, he should probably be far more shirtless and just as tired as he just was, because it softened all of his edges and brought his sheer hotness down to a comprehensible level she could wrap her mind around.

The window in front of her, along the side of the house, opens and he leans out of it, still squinting against the sunlight as he glares at her. His shirt is too tight. It’s probably restricting his movement, poor dear, someone should help him out.

“So you’re just going to sit there all day?”

“Do you have a better idea?” She’s more serious than she’d like to admit, like if he proposed some genius plan other than sitting here, she might actually do it.

“You could fuck off.”

“You’ve got a way with words, has anyone ever told you that?” She laughs, leaning back on her elbows and trying to get comfortable. The thing in the barn creaks again and she tries not to jump.

“What’s got you so jumpy?”

“Nothing.”

He stares at her, blinking twice like she’ll suddenly poof into some being that makes sense. She wishes it were that simple, she would have grown a foot and a death wish a decade ago if people’s confusion meant anything.

She raises an eyebrow, half to challenge him and half to see what he’ll say, and he grunts, disappearing inside and shutting the window.

He’s not making this very much fun, is he? It’s like he knows that arguing back won’t get him anywhere but even worse, he’s not willing to try, and it’s driving her crazy. He should at least try. And if he wanted to leave his hair down, that’s entirely up to him, but she’d consider it a solid life decision.

It’s a nice day for fall, really, the breeze off the bay isn’t too cold and the sun isn’t too hot, and she could almost fall asleep if it weren’t for where she is and what she’s thinking about. She knows Arvid is a dick, a royal dick, a next level royal dick who’s mean to her and mean to Eret and sits around moping like he knows how handsome his stupid moping face is, but she can’t help being interested. And it’s more than him just being hot, it’s the fact that Arvid and Eret and Aurelia seem to be the trio of young people utterly unaffected by the awesome-nature of chief Hiccup Haddock.

Arvid hates her dad. Arvid hates her dad so much that he hates her by extension, and in a weird way, it makes her feel like she’s being valued independently. It’s easier to be hated by association than loved by association, or something like that.

She readjusts her position, sitting up straight and looking at her hands. Her ring, the one she asked Eret to fix all those months ago, is still shiny and she spins it around her finger, wondering how many times she could twist it around before it’s time to tell Arvid.

She could tell him now, she guesses, but that gives him time to think about not showing up, and it’s her one job to get him there.

“Just tell me now,” he opens the front door again, and he’s horribly, attractively, miserably put together, his hair pulled back from his face, “whatever it is.”

“I don’t need to tell you until this afternoon.”

“How about instead of shocking me with whatever it is, you just tell me now?”

“Why would I want to shock you?” Except she has, forever, because shocking him might make him notice her, and this is the hardest lie she’s deadpanned today, one eyebrow twitching slightly when the dragon in the barn thumps again behind her. “Because that’s an insult to my sense of humor.”

“I’ve got things to do today,” he sounds irritated now, pushed beyond some imaginary barrier she hadn’t realized she was brushing up against, “so if you could just tell me now—”

“What kinds of things?” She asks, because her top three hobbies are crushing on unattainable assholes, asking questions that only end in pain, and being nosy.

“None of your business.”

“Ooh, super-secret things you refuse to tell me about, how intriguing. Is this how you get all your dates?” She sneers, almost accidentally, years-worth of jealousy and embarrassment making her wish she hadn’t come here. “Tell me more.”

“I have to fix my saddle,” he rolls his eyes, “not that I should have to run it by you, princess but—“

“Eret would do that for you.” She wishes she were standing up, but it’s more casual this way, more like she doesn’t actually care what she’s saying. “If you weren’t such a gods-damned asshole to him. All the time.”

“He’d do it anyway,” Arvid smirks, cruel in that way that makes him less and more hot all at once and she can feel her blood threatening to boil beneath her skin.

“Yeah, he would,” she laughs, a sarcastic, too fake laugh that echoes off the walls. “Did you know that he won’t even talk bad about you? You break his face and say a million mean things and he makes some joke about how you were imagining my dad. Next time go straight for my dad, alright? Eret is too good to be your punching bag.”

He freezes, shoulders a hard, rigid, impossibly straight line.

“You think I should punch the chief?”

“I think someone should, and you seem fully cocked and ready.”

Innuendo. She tries and fails not to look him up and down, like she’s living in some dirty book Fishlegs refused to have in the library.

“Punching the chief is a joke to you?” He looks stunned and she likes the look on him until she realizes what it means.

He thinks because her family name happens to be Haddock, she’s obviously the chief’s number one fan. And normally, well normally it’s in her best interest for people to think that, it’s easiest and quickest and she doesn’t mind.

But she cares that Arvid thinks it.

“I’m only three months younger than Eret, you know. His last fuck up wasn’t even done cooking when he moved onto me.”

““I’m barely a year older than Eret,” Arvid mumbles, because there’s something unidentifiably shameful in the fact, like—

“Turns out neither of our moms could keep him interested.”

“Exactly,” Arvid jerks his head up, like she’s pulling it with a string, and it makes him . “But then Eret—”

“Hey, Eret is the best.”

“He’s got you fooled,” he rolls his eyes and takes a big step backwards into the house, the door falling shut behind him. It’s silent, for a moment, for long enough that she thinks she has peace until later, when she actually wanted to tell him, but then his head appears in the doorway again, all at once. “Do you want food? Or something?”

“What?”

“You’re just—I guess you’re a guest, or something,” he scoffs.

“I already ate.” She tries not to look at him like he’s someone new, crossing her legs, “I bet Mom taught you that, all that polite stuff. I’ll have to tell her it stuck.”

“You call her Mom.” He doesn’t sound hurt, he sounds blank, like I’ve heard coming out of my own mouth so many times, and Arvid Hofferson should not be so relatable while his arms are putting so much stress on the sleeves of his shirt. Those two realities shouldn’t be able to coexist.

“I heard you don’t anymore.” She shrugs, “so why should you care what I call her?”

“I don’t.” He scoffs, “I was angry when I said that.”

“Original excuse there, like we all aren’t angry all the time.”

“What do you want to talk to me about?” He frowns, tattoos wrinkling slightly, like they’ve always been a part of his face. She tries to remember what he looked like without them and it’s like remembering herself without Eret hanging around.

“Eret is talking to Fuse later about blowing up the sick dragon island. We should both be there too.”

“When?”

“When he’s done with his chiefly stuff for the day, I don’t know, that’s why I wasn’t going to talk to you about it until this afternoon.”

“Oh.” He shrugs and leans against the doorframe, simultaneously clueless and fully aware how it makes him look. Which is good. Very good, really good, good enough to make her regret volunteering for this whole dumb scheme.

Not that she essentially came up with the whole grand scheme or anything. She’ll let Eret have that, from here on out, just to complain about how utterly unfair it is for Arvid to look so good.

“Yeah, oh.”

“So why are you here now?” He looks like he wants to smile but thinks better of it, because of course he’d never smile at her, of course that’s insane and a product of her awful morning causing hallucinations.

“Because it’s quiet, but then your house gave me like three splinters so…” She stands up, all at once, because this feels like something other than the argument she came for and she hasn’t thought through where it’s going yet. “So show up later. The Thorston place.”

“Yeah.” He narrows his eyes at her.

He doesn’t tell her to stay away from his house this time and she tries not to read into it.

She reads into it.

#festerverse #eret iii #arvelia #astrid #aurelia #THE CUTE #for the love of god

18 notes · View notes