#and it can make you bitter towards those who are just sitting around somewhere safe when you've been putting your body on the line | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

talesofstyles · 3 years

Text

Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.”

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be.

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go.

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays.

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home.

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing.

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids.

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve.

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea.

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy.

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry.

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead.

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone.

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go.

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too.

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again.

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door.

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse.

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub.

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577.

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows.

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see.

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him.

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else.

“Just a pint,” I tell him.

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her.

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop.

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl.

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where.

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head.

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do.

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight.

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1.

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born.

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.”

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly.

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight.

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns.

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly.

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention.

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis.

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again.

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle.

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did…

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing.

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle.

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics.

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk.

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap.

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it.

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time.

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either.

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window.

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me.

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly.

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it.

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me.

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room.

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly.

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up.

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal.

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life.

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What?

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say.

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.”

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.”

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it.

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me.

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now.

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife.

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk.

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle.

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh.

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer.

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter.

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.”

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head.

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly.

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?”

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm.

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.”

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards.

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses.

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her.

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead.

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door.

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week.

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating.

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside.

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed.

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously.

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.”

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll.

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me.

Read part II here!

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #dad!harry #dad harry styles #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles imagines

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kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 6

You continue the tale of how you, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter became known as The Marauders.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 6 .:The Making of the Marauders:.

~Previously~

“That was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they had. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year. . .”

“So at this point I knew that they were hiding something else, but not what it was,” you told Harry, continuing on with your story, “But one night we had planned to meet up and use the invisibility cloak to map out the underground tunnels that ran through the storage cellars, and they never showed up. So I snuck into the Gryffindor common room through the secret passage and found their dorm completely empty. But what was there was our work in progress map. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1975 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This isn't going to work,” Peter said flatly, watching James and Sirius draw a large circle in chalk on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

“Not with that attitude it's not,” James said, “if there's a way we can speed up this process I'm willing to give it a go. I don't know how long I can go on with this bloody leaf in my mouth.”

“Is this even real?” Peter sighed, “it looks like what muggles think magic is.”

“It's real all right,” Sirius said, “old, but real. I mean, Transfiguration was founded on the principles of magic circles! I'm not really sure what these runes on the side mean, but it's probably not important.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Peter retorted, “Remus, back me up here.”

He turned towards Lupin, but he had long since dozed off, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the nearly decaying walls in the corner. Peter sighed, taking a piece of paper from the ground and crumpling it into a ball before promptly throwing it in the sleeping boy's face. Lupin jolted awake, realizing what had happened and chucking the paper back at Peter in annoyance.

“Not a moment of peace,” he huffed under his breath.

“Sounds awfully boring,” James said over his shoulder.

“Blimey, what time is it?” Remus said, panicked as he noticed the light had completely gone from the sky, “It's long past sundown.”

“So?” Sirius shrugged.

“So, we told (Y/n) we'd meet them to work on the map at dusk,” Remus said, “They're probably looking for us right now!”

“Oh, they are,” you announced your presence, an unimpressed look on your face as they jumped, whipping around to look at you.

“(Y-Y/n)!” Sirius stuttered, “how did you—”

You held up the map, raising a brow at the four guilty looking boys.

“Right. . .”

“You snuck into our rooms?!” James said incredulously as he saw the map, which he was sure he had left on his bedside table, in your hands.

“You've snuck into my shower before, Potter,” you glared lightly at him.

“Point taken.”

“Okay, look, I'm sorry we didn't show tonight, and I know we've been acting weird,” Sirius sighed, “the truth is—”

“Lupin's a werewolf.”

The color drained from Remus' face, slightly mortified that you already knew.

“Come on, guys,” you said, “the claw marks and you lot disappearing whenever there's a full moon kind of gave it away. You aren't exactly subtle about it.”

You could sense the intense nervousness in the room, especially from Remus. Ok, so maybe coming right out with it wasn't the best course of action.

“Look,” you said, “if you're worried about anyone else finding out, they won't. I mean, the only reason I even knew you were here is because I'm literally helping you make a magical map that details all the secret passages and shows where everyone is. I won't tell anyone, I swear.”

They still seemed a little unsure, and you bit the inside of your lip slightly.

“If it'll make us even, I'll let you know a secret of my own,” you said, “it can even be future blackmail me if you really don't trust me.”

“No, it's not that, (Y/n),” Remus said as he stepped forward, his throat feeling dry, “it's just, well, I've never really told anyone except the people in this room. Having someone else know. . . it's just a lot to process, but if had to be anyone I'm glad it's you.” He paused for a moment, feeling oddly self-conscious as he regarded you. “When I turn into a werewolf I can't recognize any human as someone I know. I have no control over myself in that state. In the worst case scenario, I could injure or even kill someone I didn't mean to. We originally started taking note of the secret passages and rooms to find a place where I could turn safely and not hurt anyone, and we settled on here. I don't remember much when I come out of it, but. . . I do feel this painful sense of separation each time. Werewolves are pack creatures by nature, so being isolated in that state is. . . agony, if I must be honest. They all figured, I can't recognize humans, but perhaps I could recognize other animals, so. . .”

“They're trying to become animagi,” you finished, “so you won't have to be alone. That's. . . that's actually really sweet,” you said, a breathy laugh escaping you.

Remus thanked Merlin the Shrieking Shack was as dimly lit as it was so his beet red face was at least somewhat less noticeable.

“I agree,” Remus said, turning to his friends and sharing a rare, genuine moment with them. “And, you don't have to tell us your secret,” he said, turning back to you, “it's okay.”

“Hey, I wanted to know,” Sirius said, Peter swiftly elbowing him in the ribs.

“I was actually planning on telling you anyways,” you said, “If you guys are trying to become animagi, I can help you.”

You took a few steps back, bracing yourself against the wall.

“Promise me you won't freak out.”

After receiving a few quick nods, you kicked off the wall. Your body seemed to morph in mid-air, shrinking and re-configuring so fast that by the time you landed on the floor you had been entirely replaced by a large, (e/c)-eyed wolf with fur reminiscent of your hair.

Peter yelped, instinctively putting Sirius in front of him who was gawking at the sight. Remus was in complete shock and you could have sworn you saw James' glasses slip down his face.

In your animal form your heightened senses could sense their fear, and you tried your best to assuage it. You padded around in a circle, sitting down and blinking up at them to try and show them you were in control of your actions. After you figured they'd seen enough, you crawled back into your robes, which had pooled on the floor when you'd transfigured, and willed your body to turn back.

James, Sirius, and Peter looked somewhere in the intersection of shocked and terrified, but Remus looked nothing less than impressed.

“That's amazing, (Y/n),” he said breathlessly, “your transformation was seamless, how long have you had this ability?”

“My aunt had me go through the process when I was nine,” you said, a bitter edge to your voice as you fastened your clothes back around you, “it's not fun, but obviously useful. And thank you, but trust me, it didn't come at all naturally to me. I spent a good part of my winter break stuck with a wolf's hind legs, which is just as inconvenient as it sounds.”

“But this proves that it's possible!” James said, a new rush of energy invigorating him, “we can actually pull this off.”

“If I can manage to keep this sodding leaf from choking me every ten minutes,” Peter grumbled.

“Here, this should help with that,” you said, drawing your wand and pointing it at Peter's mouth. With a simple sticking charm, he suddenly felt the odd sensation of the leaf in his mouth disappearing, only to find it had melded with the flesh on the underside of his tongue.

“It's a long process, but yes, it's possible,” you said to James. Your eyes drifted to the floor where the magic circle and pages of runes were still scattered about, “if you were thinking of taking shortcuts, you might have wanted to read the warning about this spell requiring a blood sacrifice.”

The quartet paled and you laughed at their dumbstruck expressions.

“Kidding,” you grinned, “but seriously, there's no shortcuts. Now look alive, boys. We have a lot of work to do.”

_________________________________________________________

From then on, you helped the four wizards along on their quest to become fully fledged shifters.

“In order to become an animagus, a wizard must keep a Mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire month, even when eating and sleeping,” Peter read aloud from the book they'd snatched from the restricted section, “Next, under a full moon, the wizard must place the leaf in a vial full of dew that has neither been stepped on nor exposed to the sun. The resulting potion must be stored in a dark place, and the following incantation: Amato Animo Animato Animagus, must be recited every morning until an electrical storm arrives, at which point the potion can be taken.”

“Blimey, all that to turn into a bloody cat?” Sirius said, exasperated.

“Well we have the first part almost done,” James said, feeling the faintest outline of the leaf still under his tongue, “Next full moon we'll have to go dew-hunting, I suppose. Looks like you'll have to stick it out for a few more cycles, Moony,” he said to Remus.

“That's alright,” he said, “I've made it this far.”

“He won't be alone for those,” you said, “I'll spend the full moons with him until you guys are ready.”

“What?” James said, looking at you like you'd just told him you were off to join Voldemort, “not a chance, that's way too dangerous.”

“Aw, don't act like you're all concerned about me all of a sudden, Potter,” you smirked. When his expression didn't change it took you aback slightly. He was actually worried about you. “Look, I'm probably the best suited for it anyways,” you said, coughing a bit to coast through the awkward tension, “Remus and I are both wolves, or at least partly. If one of you end up turning into a sheep or something you might be dead meat, not to freak you out or anything.”

“That's reassuring,” Sirius said under his breath.

____________________________________________________________

“You really don't have to do this,” Lupin insisted as you sat on the floor together in the Shrieking Shack later that month.

“I want to,” you assured him, “take it as a thanks for helping me pass Arithmancy. Besides, it's a perfectly fine excuse for me to practice interacting with other animals in my animagus form.”

The boy beside you was quiet for a moment, shoulders tense and jaw set tight. It wasn't that he wasn't happy you were here, he was more grateful than you could know, but he was terrified that he was going to end up hurting you. On top of that was the fact that he didn't want you to see him as he transformed. It wasn't pretty, and it was visibly painful. He didn't want you to think any lower of him, though he knew that fear was irrational.

The calming jazz record that spun on the other side of the room was the only noise between you two for quite some time, but you understood that he needed time to gather his thoughts. This was something so deeply personal you were surprised and a bit honored he allowed you to be here at all. You noticed the photograph that he held in his hands; it was of Hogwarts, taken from the very edge of the forest. The sun was peeking over the horizon, spilling out between the complexly constructed towers that made up the castle's exterior, and casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape.

“It's beautiful,” you said, “the picture.”

“It is,” Remus smiled to himself and nodded, “James gave it to me, as a reminder. He said that matter what happens during the full moon, the sun will always rise on us again.”

“Huh,” you mused softly, “perhaps he isn't such an insufferable jerk after all.”

“Oh, no, he is,” Lupin chuckled, “but he is also a very good friend, and endlessly thoughtful even if he denies it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. You supposed he was.

“Well,” you said, laughing a bit as you shifted in your seat, “this isn't as deep and meaningful as the photo, but I brought something for you.” You reached into your bag, retrieving something that made Remus' eyes widen.

“Where did you get that?” he said, elated as you held out his favorite chocolate bar which had been out of stock at Hogsmeade for weeks now.

“You guys have a secret tunnel that goes right to the Honeydukes cellar and you've never taken advantage of their storage?” you grinned.

Lupin hesitated as he held the bar in his hands.

“So you stole it?”

“I left five dracma in the tip jar,” you rolled your eyes, “I'm not a death eater.”

His smiled returned at that, and he ripped open the familiar foil gratefully.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It's the least I could do,” you said.

“It's really not,” he said, turning to face you fully. You were left a bit breathless as the unexpected intensity of his eyes. “None of this is the least you could do, because the least you could do is nothing,” he continued, rambling, “we were so horrible to someone you consider a dear friend, and you were willing to look past that. You're risking your life by even being with me right now, (Y/n).”

“You don't—”

“I do know that,” Remus said sharply, “I've never been in contact with anyone as a werewolf. The one time I was, I. . .” he trailed off, and it hurt you to see his pained expression, “I just don't know how I'll react.”

“You're saying that as if something bad's already happened,” you said gently, “it'll be okay.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked quietly, equally full of frustration and admiration.

“I'm willing to put my trust in you, Remus. I think it's time you put some trust in yourself.”

Lupin's heart pounded a little harder in his chest. Had you ever called him by his first name before? You looked at him so reassuringly, so confidently. He couldn't understand it, but your words reached him to his core.

“(Y/n). . .” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. A shaky breath escaped him, and your stomach dropped.

“Remus?”

Suddenly you saw something shift in him. His breathing became heavy and his pupils dilated, completely filling his irises in a matter of seconds. He braced himself against the wall as he stumbled to his feet, his skin slowly taking on a gray hue.

“It's happening,” he said, voice deeper and strained, his neck convulsing, “you have to transform, now!”

You didn't waste any time, taking the shape of your wolf form and padding away a cautionary distance. Your stomach churned as you watched Remus yell out, his expression full of pain as his body grew in size, his cries slowly becoming reminiscent of howls. His face contorted in agony as his head morphed into a more animalistic shape, ears growing from his scalp and fur appearing as if his werewolf was fully formed inside him, physically escaping through his skin. You've seen werewolves before, but seeing someone you know actually turn into one, it was completely different. Nothing could have prepared you for this. Seeing anyone in this much pain made your chest tighten harshly.

At last it seemed the transformation was complete. Remus Lupin was gone, and in front of you stood a creature of at least eight feet, perched on his hind legs and towering over you especially in your animal form. You could hear how ragged his breathing had become, his body convulsing with the motion; growing and retracting like a beating heart. You heard a whimper escape his throat, and you could tell he was still recovering from the pain.

You steeled yourself, making the decision to alert him to your presence subtly. You tilted your head upwards, releasing a similar sounding whimper to his. Immediately the werewolf across from you was on high alert, his head snapping towards you and his lips pulling back into a snarl as his ears lowered. You took an instinctive step back, lowering your head slowly. He seemed puzzled by your behavior, which made sense seeing as Lupin told you he never interacted with any other animals during the full moon. His head tilted inquisitively and he took a heavy step forward. You forced yourself to not back away, testing the waters. His eyes narrowed again as he saw you standing your ground, but you quickly sat down, your head tilting to expose your neck slightly. You made doubly sure not to show any signs of aggression; you knew you had no chance against a werewolf at full strength.

However, he seemed to take your queues well. His tail seemed to relax a bit, his eyes returning to their full, round shape as he looked at you with curiosity. You sniffed up at him and he hesitated, but eventually circled around you and did the same. You could almost see the turmoil in him, as a werewolf you doubted anyone he came across treated him with anything less than terror in their eyes, but you were completely relaxed.

He whimpered again, and you were shocked at the sign of submission. You rose to your feet, and he didn't back away. You let out a friendly yip, which he returned, and you felt the weight lift off your chest. You leaped to the side, and he followed you, running alongside you as you bounded across the room, practically leaping off the walls. You jumped at each other playfully, rolling across the floor in a mess of fur. You smiled inwardly as this continued throughout the night, no longer seeing fear or pain or aggression in his eyes when you looked into them. Even if he wouldn't remember most of this, you hoped he would at least feel better in the morning than all the times he had to go through it alone.

Exhausted from all the playing around, you padded softly back to your robes, crawling inside yours and and gesturing over to him with your head. He followed you, coming down to all fours before laying beside you. You weren't sure when sleep came over you, but it was like the world's most comfortable blanket had been thrown over your shoulders, and your eyes drifted closed of their own volition. . .

“Merlin's beard, just what were you two doing last night?!”

You and Remus both jolted awake at the sound of James Potter's aggravatingly loud voice but quickly came to your senses. Remus' arms were wrapped around you, your back facing him. You were just barely covered by your robes with nothing underneath as a result of your transformation. As you scrambled to get decent your face heated even more as you saw Remus was currently without a shirt, his pants ripped considerably. You scrambled away from each other, trying to make yourselves decent.

Peter was howling with laughter, James looking smug as ever. Sirius was oddly quiet, but you were too wrapped up in the embarrassment to notice his behavior.

“What was that about being 'endlessly thoughtful'?” you grumbled to Remus.

“Right, I completely take back what I said,” he scoffed, “ 'insufferable jerk' is much more accurate.”

“Close your eyes, you perverted git!” you yelled at James, who was blatantly staring at you, “toss me my clothes at least, would you?”

James bit back a smirk as he grabbed your bag that was sitting in the corner of the room— clothes you had brought with the intention of changing into after returning to your human form when Lupin fell asleep. He tossed it over to you and you began to change under your robes. As his back was turned to you his mind began to wander. You'd always been attractive, sure, but since you'd always been his rival he hadn't really given you a second thought, especially when he'd been trying to get Lily's attention for ages. But just now, thinking about how downright adorable you looked when you'd yelled at him, something in him shifted. He shook it off quickly, turning to Lupin with a grin he'd managed to put on concernedly fast.

“You cheeky bastard,” he said to Remus, who was furiously changing into a new shirt, “you just wanted her alone, didn't you? Do you really need us to become animagi after all?”

“You're the worst, Potter,” the werewolf glared at him.

“Don't listen to him, Remus,” you grumbled, straightening out your tie as you slipped it on over your shirt, “he's an even bigger idiot than he looks.”

“Are you implying I look stupid?”

“Implying may not be a strong enough word.”

__________________________________________________________

It had taken months of brewing the potion and getting all the necessary preparations in order, but they were finally ready. Remus sat with you in the grass, wand at the ready to undo any untoward transfiguration that happened on accident. Peter, Sirius, and James stood across from you, standing at the edge of a stone ledge about five feet off the ground. You'd said that a leap of faith is what would best trigger their first transformation. They looked nervous, but they were prepared as they'd ever be. Over the last year you had grown considerably closer to the four boys you had miraculously come to know as friends.

“Remember, focus on your emotions,” you said, “you need to pick a strong one, let it fill your body and flow through you. If you block the magic off from any part of your body, it's not going to be pretty.”

“Right, but how do I—”

“James, I swear, I'm really rooting for you to be a mute animal.”

“But how do you choose-”

“Just do it already!”

“Oh, sod it,” James squeezed his eyes shut, not giving himself time to second guess before jumping off the ledge. For a moment he was certain he was about to land face first in the dirt, but then it happened— a moment where time seemed to freeze and his body felt completely weightless. He felt this sensation where his arms and legs vibrated with an intense, foreign energy. Images flashed through his mind in that brief moment in the air; Sirius manically laughing as they ran away from Filch, Remus snapping off a piece of chocolate to offer him after he'd lost Gryffindor a Quidditch match, and, unexpectedly, you. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest, and he grasped onto it, letting it flow through his body like you said. In an instant he felt torso shift, his shoulders narrow, his neck elongate; and when he landed on the ground he still landed face-first as he predicted, but in a completely different form.

He could see you and Lupin in front of him, mouths agape. He was about to say something when he found his vocal chords only allowed him a gruff whine. Shocked, he lifted his head, which felt much heavier than he'd last recalled, and as he looked down at himself he was taken aback to be met with a pair of hooves right beneath him. He staggered to his feet on wobbly legs, of which he now had four. As he tilted his head he could see the shadow of a pair of antlers twisting into brilliant shadows on the grass.

“Potter, you did it!” you exclaimed, “you actually did it!”

“Well how about that,” Remus chuckled, “a stag.”

“It fits him, I think,” you grinned, looking over at Sirius and Peter who looked determined and terrified respectively. “Well go on, it's your turn now!”

Sirius braced himself for the jump, but somehow he found no fear in his system. After seeing James shift in the air right before his eyes, he knew he could do it. He looked over at Peter who was nearly shaking.

“Come on, Peter,” he said, “we'll go together.”

“I-I don't know about this, Sirius,” Peter said, “I'm not ready, I don't think I can do this.”

“It's just a little jump,” Sirius said encouragingly, “you can do this.”

After a few nerve wracking deep breaths Peter gave him the smallest nod one could manage.

“We'll go on three,” Sirius said, “Ready? One—”

“AaHH!”

Sirius shoved Peter off the ledge, knowing he wouldn't jump on his own, before taking the plunge himself. Peter's screams became higher and higher pitched as he shrank at an alarming speed, almost an undetectable size by the time he hit the grass. A small brown rat scurried across the field towards you and Lupin.

The stag in front of you made a sound, dragging his hooves across the grass in what you could imagine as James' unadulterated laughter at his friend.

Sirius began to morph almost as soon as he left the ground, something you were surprised by. He landed on his hind legs, landing gracefully as his front two followed, and a shaggy black dog looked back at you with mischief in its eyes.

You couldn't help but go over and pet him. You laughed as he nudged you with his nose, a resistance that was quickly halted as soon as you started scratching him behind the ears.

“I have to say, I didn't think you would actually manage that on your first try,” you said, secretly prouder than they could have known, “but if anyone could have done it, it's you three stubborn goons.”

James huffed as he saw you continue to pet Sirius, using his antlers to prod the dog out of the way. Sirius barked, lunging at him playfully. It was quite a scene to see the two interact.

“Honestly, this is a pretty solid group,” you said, “you've got James who blends perfectly with the surrounding wildlife so he wouldn't be suspicions, Sirius who could probably do a fair bit of damage as a dog if he needed, and Peter who can fit through small spaces and snoop around the castle virtually undetected.”

“Quite an odd pack,” Remus chuckled.

“Definitely,” you agreed, “but a pack nonetheless.”

And that very week, Remus Lupin was able to spend his first night as a werewolf with his four friends by his side.

__________________________________________________________

“So, how did we choose which animals we turn into?” James had asked you the next day at breakfast, “I specifically tried for a dragon.”

“You don't get to choose,” you rolled your eyes, “You're a stag, that's the end of it. It's pretty much up to chance.”

“I'm sorry, you're telling me I could have turned into a fish and died right there on the ground?!”

“If only,” you sighed dreamily, earning you a playful shove from James. “Alright, it's not completely random, but you're definitely in the unknown the first time you turn,” you went on to explain, “and once you turn for the first time, that's it. That's your animal. A wizard takes on the animagus form of whatever animal most closely resembles their personality. So, a horny bastard for James, a loyal little puppy for Sirius—”

“A bitch for you,” Sirius quipped.

“Never heard that one before,” you scoffed, purposefully messing up his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” he shoved you off him, twisting each of his curls back into form.

“Well, look who's a high maintenance pup,” you chuckled.

Around the same time that year, you finally completed the map. It came together beautifully, each different way of folding the paper revealing a different level of the castle for easy navigation. You'd included the surrounding forests as well as the parts of Hogsmeade that applied for the secret passageways, all of which were marked with symbols and the unique names you'd all come up with. Every student and staff member at Hogwarts had a tiny scroll with their name that appeared in their location. Remus had added the nice detail of including footprints at the last second, so you could see which way they were facing and walking as well. It was fireproof, rip proof, and prone to insulting anyone else who tried to read it. It was the pinnacle of your magical (and slightly illegal) achievement.

“We should write our names on it,” James said, looking down proudly at the finished map, “it belongs to us, after all. We don't want anyone else taking the credit.”

“Yeah, fantastic way to get caught,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “what if Filch comes across it? That's like leaving your signature at a murder scene.”

“You should use code names, then,” you suggested, “I know you guys call Remus 'Moony' as a joke, but I kind of like it.”

The scarred boy blushed lightly at the compliment, a brow raised to his other three friends.

“Alright then, I guess you should all say hi to Rudolph over here,” Sirius said, jutting his thumb in James' direction. The bespectacled boy narrowed his eyes before shooting back.

“Right! And this is my good friend, Snuffles.”

Sirius lunged at him and James swatted him away in laughter.

“Come on, you two,” Remus said, “or we won't put anything down for you at all.”

“I've got an idea for Peter,” you piped in, “When my mom used to garden she said she didn't mind having rats there because their tails resembled worms, which were an old a sign of healthy soil, I know it's odd, but I think Wormtail sounds pretty cool.”

Peter seemed to perk up at your acknowledgment and nodded. It suited him somehow.

“Should we pick animal features too, then?” James mused, “I guess Antlers doesn't really sound that cool. What's another word? Horns? Give me some analogies, guys. What else do they look like?”

“Yours honestly kind of look like a couple of bent forks,” you snickered.

“Prongs?” Sirius snorted, the laughter that followed nearly splitting his sides.

“Oh, go on, what have you got then?” James scoffed.

“I was thinking Padfoot,” Sirius said, “like a dog's paw prints.”

“You know, for someone who was just making fun of code names a second ago you sure have given a lot of thought to yours,” you teased.

“Shove it,” he smirked, “What about you? Can't very well have a second Moony.”

You stared at him in momentary disbelief.

“Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Sirius chuckled.

“We couldn't have done any of this without you,” Remus reminded you with a smile.

“I think you've more than earned an honorary title as one of us,” James said.

“That is, if you want to,” Peter said timidly.

You looked at the four of them, genuinely touched.

“I. . . I don't know what to say,” you smiled.

“You could say 'yes',” James piped up.

“Alright, you loons,” you laughed, “if you leave Severus alone for good, then yes.”

“Hey, I think we've been pretty good about that lately,” James pouted.

“Yes you have,” you admitted, “It's the only reason I bothered to give you the time of day, but this time it's a promise.”

James rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was undeniable. He'd never admit it out loud, but being friends with you was more fun than messing with Snape ever was.

“Alright, fine. (Y/n) (L/n), I solemnly swear that I will leave tormenting our dear old friend Snivelus behind us forever,” he said dramatically, putting a hand up at his pledge.

“Oh, bother,” you laughed, “the only thing you'll 'solemnly swear' to is that you're up to no good.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Then that's settled,” Remus smiled, “you'll need a code name too.”

“Let's see,” Sirius hummed in thought, “What other defining features do wolves have besides. . . well, their. . . fangs?”

“They're canines, you numbnut,” you huffed.

“Close enough, I'm writing Fangs.”

“Oi, I didn't agree to that!”

“Too bad, I'm already writing it~”

“Okay, well if that's the stupid name I'm getting saddled with them I'm going to write it myself,” you said stubbornly. You actually didn't mind the name at all.

“Well that's it, then,” James said, “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs. We could join the bloody circus.”

“All we need is a group name,” you said, half joking.

“We've already got one,” James said proudly.

“Oh? Let's hear it, then.”

“The Marauders.”

“. . .”

You kept your face straight for exactly three seconds before you burst out laughing. The four boys flushed with embarrassment.

“The Marauders?” you chortled, “what are you, pirates?”

“It's what McGonnagall called us the first time we got ourselves into proper trouble,” James defended himself, his cheeks reddening, “You rowdy mob of marauders, she'd said.”

“Huh,” you chuckled, coming down from your laughing fit, “Well, then I suppose that would make this The Marauders Map. I'll admit, it actually kinda has a ring to it.”

And despite your group's joking quips and bickering, they couldn't agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait,” Harry said, eyes wide at your story, “So, my dad was an animagus too?”

“Sure was,” you smiled warmly.

“This whole time I thought 'Prongs' was just because his patronus was a stag.”

“Your animagus form is usually the same animal as your patronus,” you explained, “In some very rare cases they can be different, but they work in the same emotionally driven vein of magical ability, so it would make sense that they'd be linked. Your father was extraordinary at both, because as much as he would deny it, he felt everything very deeply.”

Your eyes drifted to the wall opposite you in the living room, and a small but sad smile graced your features.

“Love is often the most powerful emotion a witch or wizard can draw from,” you said softly, “but you already know that.”

Harry followed your gaze over his shoulder. There, posted on the wall among a collage of photographs from the Order was a picture of his mother and father. It was one he'd seen a hundred times, and one he had his own copy of: them in each others' arms in a London park, autumn leaves swirling around them as they danced without any music. Even from this distance he could see the emotion in their eyes as they looked at one another— like they were the only two people in the world.

“Yeah,” Harry said, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “I do.”

Read chapter 7 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1

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bokoutoe-retired · 3 years

Text

— #43 “i love you to the moon and back” & #44 “you’re stealing the blankets”

characters; gojo satoru, gn! reader, ft. itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, nobara kugisaki

synopsis; working at jujutsu tech comes with it’s risks, but with your husband at your side you think everything will turn out just fine

total w/c; 1475

warnings; canon-typical violence, blood, major injury, hospitals, iv’s, uhhh, non-canon timeline ig? i haven’t read the manga so i apologize for any inaccuracies about how curses and jujutsu sorcery works

「a/n」 thank you to @construct-witchlyght for requesting!! i’m so sorry it took so long but i actually really had fun writing this and i feel good about it! hope you enjoy it <3

being a counselor at jujutsu tech never really meant just being a counselor. sometimes it means being a teacher and instructing a couple classes, other times it means getting called out for exorcisms. despite your job title, it’s shockingly rare you get the chance to actually, you know, be a counselor.

and this was certainly not one of those times. the grade 2 curse you, itadori, fushiguro, and kugisaki are currently dealing with is not relenting. whatsoever. it’s attacks are quick, fast, and calculated. the four of you have done a good job avoiding them so far, but you're not sure how much longer you can keep it up. both you and itadori are hustling to land your blows, slowly chipping away at the almost overwhelming defenses of the curse. nearby fushiguro’s shikigami are working in rhythm with the flying nails of kugisaki’s hammer to take out the weird army of cursed goonies the grade 2 has. they’re not powerful by any means but their numbers add up. the two first years are doing a good job of dwindling their forces

the fight drags on and on, hit after hit, and dodge after dodge, it’s tiresome but necessary. by some miracle, there’s a glimpse of the end as yuuji lands a hearty punch on one of the chins of the curses many mouths. as it makes contact it’s accompanied by a loud, resounding clap, the cursed energy packed behind the hit leaves the air of the abandoned warehouse buzzing. the powerful attack brings the curse down to its last legs, yet it’s still angry, and determined to take you all out. you glance over to check on the other pair, and see they’re exorcising the final lackey.

‘good, they’re safe now’ you think, but you’re allowed only a mere moment of relief before your attention is directed back to itadori and the grade 2. itadori is still stumbling from the blowback of his own power as the curse lets out a booming roar and you see it gear up for an attack with the sharp claws on one of its four arms. he’s stumbling right into the claws’ path and doesn’t have nearly enough time to completely dodge. panic boils over in your chest and you feel your body move before you think about it, out of pure instinct to protect your kids. the long arm of the curse swings down and you rush towards the pink haired first year, shoving him out from underneath the approaching claws. hot, searing pain rips down from your shoulder and through your chest. your vision immediately turns spotty but you can see itadori tumble a few feet away from the force of your push. you must’ve screamed without realizing it because immediately all three students are calling out your name and rushing to finish the curse off.

you register that somewhere near you the curse bursts into smoke and spare puffs of cursed energy. it’s finally exorcised, but you're too focused on the feeling of warm, sticky blood seeping from your wound and the bitter taste of copper in your mouth to take note of who officially finished it off. the energy from the curse tapers off into nothing but residuals and suddenly three sets of footsteps are rushing towards you.

“y/n-san!” itadori is the first to reach you, calling out and falling to his knees at your side. “why would you do that?!” his words are frantic but his actions are gentle as he moves your head to rest on his knees. you can almost see the tears welling in his eyes from, in your opinion, misplaced guilt. he looks around searching for help of the other first years. behind him nobaras foot taps incessantly against the cold stone floor. she’s hurriedly dialing someone on her cellphone, presumably ijichi and fushiguro is tearing off his jacket. he does much better job of hiding his worry, but if your eyes were a little more focused you’d be able to see the slight shake to his movements as he bundles the fabric and presses it to your wound. you little out a little grunt of pain, the coarse texture agitates it but does a good enough staunching the steady trickle of blood. despite their lack of experience, it’s not hard for them to recognize this is bad. nobara finishes her call, before pocketing her phone and joining the boys on the ground next to you. she takes the edge of her sleeve, wiping off the small bit of blood dribbling from you mouth. you weakly attempt to swat her hand off, the last thing you wanted was to worry your kids or have them fuss over you.

“‘toru would kick my ass if i had let one of you kids get hurt” your words are slightly slurred but you speak with a little chuckle, referring to your husband while trying to make light of the situation. you even reach up to pat yuujis cheek reassuringly a couple times.

“well now gojo-sensei is gonna kick my ass for letting you get hurt!” he looks like he’s about to continue but the sound of screeching car tires interrupt him.

“ijichis here, lets get her up. y/n-” you can hear megumi talking, but your consciousness is slipping and you can’t decipher exactly what he said. you feel three pairs of hands start to lift you off the ground, the blood making it a little more difficult. as you look up the dots clouding your vision get bigger and bigger, the last thing you see is the crease of nobaras brows as she yells out to someone.

when you wake up, you feel your situation before you see it. the first, and maybe most important thing you feel, is the presence of your husband cuddled into your side. you feel his hair tickling your neck, his body pressed against your uninjured side and his fingers intertwined with yours. just knowing he’s there is enough to instantly put you at ease. your eyes finish adjusting to the bright morning light streaming in from the window and satoru shifts in his sleep, unawarely tugging the thin hospital blanket from your body.

“you’re stealing the blankets,” you whisper to him as you squeeze his hand in yours, but your voice comes out a little more strained than you had expected. even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s woken up as he lets out a little hum and adjusts himself on the small hospital bed. with the both of you it’s a tight fit, but you make it work. he’s careful not to jostle you as he sits up and gently brings you to lay on his side instead of him on yours. he’s mindful of your ivs and monitors, all while keeping your hand in his and making sure to drape the blanket back over you.

“rough night?” he asks, the hand of the arm wrapped around you comes to lightly brush over the bandages wrapped snug around your torso. the pain isn’t nearly as bad as it was before you blacked out. whatever meds they’d given you had turned the sharp stinging into a dull ache. but if you were being honest your whole body ached. a long, strenuous battle on top of a deep wound would do that to a person.

“rough night.” you confirm with a little chuckle, relaxing even further into his hold. the room is silent for a moment as he catches your eyes searching the empty room for something that’s not there. he presses a kiss to your temple, bringing your attention back to him.

“they went back to the school,” he states, already knowing that you were looking for the trio of first years, “and before you ask, they’re fine. all three made it out with nothing more than a couple scratches.”

“good, thats good,” you respond while smiling up at him. if those three were okay, any pain, wound, or hospital visit would be utterly worth it.

“i’m lucky i get to say the same for you, my love. itadori told me what you did” he lifts up his blindfold and gives you a look that resembles that of one he would give a student while scolding them. but behind it, you can see the deep amount of worry held in his bright eyes.

“i did what i had to, they're just kids” you shrug as best as yougiven your condition.

“i know, i know. very admirable of you,” he jokes a little before his tone turns serious “but please, don’t scare me like that ever again. you mean the world to me and i don’t know what i’d do without you. i love you to the moon and back, my dear y/n”

“i love you too satoru, to the moon and back”

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

Text

Blue Moon - Part 1

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,746

Xxx

“So what’s it like living with a Hale?” Stiles asked, turning away from your locker after you shut it. Both of you fell into step with Scott as you made your way to your next class.

You must have grimaced or made some face with a slight slant of your eyebrows only a Stilinski could read, because Stiles let out a snort. “That bad?”

You shrugged, sighing. “I mean, it’s not like I expected it to be a walk in the park, it is Derek Hale after all.” Scott chuckled with a gentle shake of his head, making you smile before you continued. “But I didn’t expect it to be this…. easy….. either.”

“Easy?” Scott questioned, making the same face you must have initially as Stiles let out another snort of laughter.

“Yeah, I mean, the first few days were awkward. If we weren’t training we weren’t doing anything. The man is silent, had no TV, or any of that-”

“Wait, ‘had’?” Stiles held out his hand, effectively cutting off your sentence and your steps, your shoes screeching on the floor at the sudden stop.

“Yes, had. He now has a TV, streaming services- yes, Stiles, services as in plural, if you keep your eyebrows that high they may stick that way, and it’s not the best look for you…”

“So at least there is something to fill the silence at least.” Scott resumed walking, you followed a few steps behind, Stiles lagging, jaw still dropped in shock.

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with Scott, and this time you felt your eyebrows making the face.

“But….?” Scott’s prodding was gentle, but his face held a smirk.

“But somewhere along the way we went from off handed comments during a news broadcast, or some show we were watching, to actually pausing it to have some discussion, or referencing some situation later and asking if the other had had something similar happen, or just opening up about random experiences and stuff. It’s…”

“Weird?” This time Stiles prodded, earning a glare and gentle whack on the arm from Scott.

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re…. new.” Scott opted for a more discrete word for ‘werewolf’ in the crowded hallways. “He may feel like opening up more because of the pack mentality and all.”

“No, it’s not because she’s…. new.” Stiles raised one eyebrow on the word as he addressed Scott, earning a sigh and eye roll from the young Beta. “The man is a brooding wall of leather and growls.” You chuckled at the description, making Stiles grin. “I think we finally found our miracle cure for our Sourwolf!”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” You held up your hands as if to physically stop their words. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We know you two like each other. It’s so obvious.” Stiles immediately closed his mouth, his lips a tight line, eyes wide and eyebrows in his hairline in his signature “I was not supposed to say that” face.

“What?” you deadpanned to your friend.

The bell rang, and Scott, wide eyed and smiling too broadly, gave Stiles a shove on the shoulder in the opposite direction of your next class as Stiles muttered, “Oh, look. The bell.” They both began to walk quickly the opposite way.

“Guys!” you yelled. “This is not over! But I am not responsible for you guys missing another class, what does that make, like fifteen already this semester?”

Your two friends stilled and turned on their heels, ushering past you quickly, avoiding your glare, Stiles looking at Scott and muttering, “See, Scott? I told you our class with Miss Blake was this way.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled under your breath. The sour expression stayed on your face even after you sat at your desk in the back of the class.

Chuckling, Stiles chanced a glance your way from beside you, hoping to change the subject from his ultimate fail in the hallway. “You still don’t like her?”

“I still don’t like her.” You overlapped his last few words, matching his gentle nod with one of your own as you stared straight ahead at the teacher’s still vacant desk.

“What is it about her you don’t like?”

“I just have a really bad feeling whenever I see her. Something just isn’t right.”

Scott chuckled, opening his book to the proper page. “You’re just mad that she gives you a little bit of a harder time.”

“You mean she gives me ‘more attention’?” you asked, your words rising to a ridiculous octave as they repeated Jennifer’s words she had used when she assigned you some extra credit to help raise your grade so you could stay on the lacrosse team. Your friends chuckled at your words. “I’m sorry, not everyone can be amazing at everything, being a wer-” you stopped yourself, clearing your throat before continuing- “new-” you looked at Scott pointedly, earning you a glare and Stiles’ laughter on your other side- “doesn’t allow for a whole lot of extra studying time.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you feel that way now, but it will pass,” Scott said with a smile as Miss Blake walked in, setting things on her desk, and he chuckled as you glared at her. “This is all ephemeral.”

You looked at Stiles, your face blank, voice a deadpan. “You ever buy him a word of the day subscription thing again, and I will rip your throat out.” You flickered your yellow eyes at him discreetly. “With my teeth.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mumbled, overlapping your words, both of you nodding in agreement again. “I asked what it’s like living with a Hale, and now I got my answer.” He looked at you, shaking his head mockingly. “You’re becoming one of them. It’s contagious. We’ll call it ‘Sourwolf Syndrome’.”

Xxx

Due to your parents’ professions taking them all over the place constantly, like Allison, you were actually a year older than your friends, having to repeat a year a few grades back. But you wouldn’t change it for anything, because that’s how you met your best friends.

It helped that your parents were away on business most of the time, so no one questioned your staying at Derek’s loft for so long. You stopped by every few days to get the mail and check on the plants around the house, packing some new clothes if needed, Derek sitting outside in his car the first few times, but lately he had taken to coming in and helping you do the few things you had to do.

You told yourself it was just because of the increased threat that he wanted to be closer to his newest Beta. He didn’t have too many of those these days, you thought bitterly, smirking to yourself. You stared blankly as you rinsed out your coffee cup in the sink, and a wave of sadness washed over you as you thought of Erica, her absence still fresh and raw. The two of you had never really been close; just acquaintances at school, then pack members briefly, before she was gone.

Boyd had really withdrawn himself after that, and you didn’t blame him. You knew he probably felt how you did times ten. When Cora had been here briefly she mentioned losing a pack member was like losing a limb, and she hadn’t been wrong.

Then Derek had kicked both Cora and Isaac out of the loft, claiming it wasn’t safe with the Alpha Pack around. Isaac was staying with Scott, but you didn’t know where Cora had disappeared to. Peter was a wild card, so you didn’t even try to factor him in, and Scott outright refused to be a member of Derek’s pack. He was an Alpha with Beta eyes, and an enigma for another time.

The point was, Derek was running low in the Beta department lately.

The only reason Derek had you staying at the loft and followed you around the house when you had to go was because you were the newest, or so he said. Deep down you knew he just didn’t want to be responsible if something happened to you. He wanted to control the situation as much as possible which, you guessed, you were kind of glad, being new to this whole werewolf thing, and admittedly not wanting to stay home alone again, human or werewolf.

At least at the loft, even in the times before Derek brought home the TV and stuff, the silence had been comfortable. You’d never admit it to anyone, but just being in the presence of another living, breathing being, even one as brooding and somewhat annoying as Derek Hale, was nice.

And you sure as hell weren’t going to think about how he had helped you with your homework sometimes, especially with that English extra credit. He had a side he didn’t share often, and you were glad you got to see it. It was like a rare spotting of a mythological creature.

You smiled to yourself, watching the water in the cup filling clear now, the mug long clean, and you let your feelings wash away down the drain with the water as you turned it off.

Setting the mug in the sink, you took a deep breath, letting the feelings whirling around you fully roll off your back, rolling your shoulders back as they did.

Stepping into the doorway to the living room you saw him delicately watering some houseplant your mom babied. The first few times he had just poured water at its base, and you had to stop him, showing him how it had to be done, otherwise he’d over water it. And since then, though he had said initially that it was stupid under his breath, he took meticulous care to check if it even needed watering, and then watered it properly, like you showed him, even bringing books home to the loft about how to care for the various types of plants your mom had around the house. You found it endearing.

Smiling softly, you gently shook your head. One second you were bitter towards him, the next finding little things that made him amazing. “I’m going to go grab some clothes, my stuff got torn to hell last week when we dealt with what’s his face,” you said offhandedly, starting up the stairs. So many baddies came through this town, you got them all confused.

Derek chuckled. “Okay. You know you can always borrow some of my clothes if you need to.”

You stopped midstep on the staircase, each foot on a different step, and your grip on the bannister tightened, your knuckles turning white.

This.

This is why you had such conflicting emotions about this man. Wolf. Wolfman.

“Are you sure?” You kept your voice even, smiling softly.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, makes more sense then driving all the way over here.” His voice tried to be neutral, but it was evident he was trying to cover up something he had let slip before really thinking about it.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time.” You nodded once to each other before you took two steps calmly and then practically ran up the rest of them to your room.

Holding a hand to your chest, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize your heartbeat, you slumped against the door after you closed it, sighing.

You tried not to over analyze what he said, but failed.

You knew he probably was making some underhanded comment about your abilities, “coming all the way over here”, really he wanted to say, “you suck at being a werewolf, you’re always getting hurt and your clothes destroyed in the process”.

“You too, wolfman. You too,” you mumbled under your breath as you angrily rifled through one of your drawers, grabbing a few things.

You chuckled a dark laugh. “But I’m an Alpha, Y/N. I’ll heal faster.” You mocked his deep tone, your search in your drawer turning into an aimless activity, the contents totally mixed up now.

He had never been around whenever you had gotten in a hit or takedown on the baddies you guys had encountered so far in your short time in this world. For some reasons you ended up on opposite sides of the battle fields, and he never said it directly, but you knew he probably thought you sucked. How else does one end up with torn shirts from claw marks and blood being covered by your jacket?

Everyone else had called you a badass, but Derek had yet to compliment or even comment on your fighting ability. But maybe, since he trained you, that spoke more to his ability and not yours, you thought with a smirk. Satisfied with the thought, you grabbed a few clothes out of the drawer before snapping it shut.

After a few steps toward the door, you slowed to a stop, absently staring at the clothes in your hand as your thoughts cleared a little from your earlier anger.

If it was a reflection on how he thought he was, that was kind of sad. Did he really think so lowly of himself and his abilities?

You had only been in this world a short time now, but even you had to admit he was a good Alpha. A good wolfm- werewolf. A good man. He was a great person to have at your back in a fight and in mundane things like math, which was also a fight, but that was a thought for another day. He was a good friend to have, period.

Shaking your head and chuckling gently at yourself, you wondered why your thoughts were everywhere. Glancing at your calendar on the wall, you saw the full moon was coming up soon and rolled your eyes. Of course.

This would pass. This was ephemeral. You groaned softly as you made your way back down the stairs. Stiles was going to pay.

Derek met your eyes when you made it to the last step, hopping the last few inches to the first floor. He set down the watering can softly.

“Do I really sound like that?” His lips twitched upward slightly.

Screwing up your face in confusion it took you a second to realize he had heard your mutterings as you disorganized the contents of your drawer upstairs. Realization crossed your face before your palm slapped to your forehead, the groan passing your lips before you could stop it.

Derek laughed, and you looked at him apologetically, to which he motioned with his hand as if waving it away and smiled at the floor where his gaze was focused. “Don’t worry about it. I just always thought my voice was deeper than that.”

He chuckled even more as you swatted his arm, laughing gently yourself. He grabbed your wrist playfully before you could withdraw your hand, and you found yourself pulled closer to him, almost toe to toe and having to crane your neck to look up and meet his eyes that looked down at you with some emotion you couldn’t decipher.

That comfortable silence hung around you two like a blanket… Until his phone rang.

As he fished it out of his pocket, you softly cleared your throat and took a small step back, feeling Derek’s gaze on you the whole time.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and annoyed, and he was still staring at you. It almost seemed like he was upset at whoever was on the other end for interrupting his moment with you.

But that thought quickly evaporated.

“Jennifer!” He said it with a broad smile on his face, his voice a total about face from his greeting, and his eyes moving from you to the wall behind you.

It couldn’t be who you thought. There was no way. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“No, I’m not busy,” he said, turning to the door.

Grabbing his arm to stop him, he turned to look at you, eyebrows raised in question and, if you weren’t mistaken, slight annoyance.

“What?” he mouthed.

“Who is that?” you whispered.

“A friend,” he hissed.

“Who is it?” you hissed back at him.

“Your English teacher, Jennifer Blake.” He shrugged out of your grip and out your front door, motioning you to the car.

You seethed as you turned off the lights, grabbing your bag of clothes, and locking the door after you.

Reason number five hundred and sixty two to hate Miss Jennifer Blake.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra What’s This?

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 7

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None? I think? Please let me know if I missed something Notes: This is incredibly dialogue heavy, and I actually don't feel as confident about this chapter as some of the past ones? Hopefully y'all like it, I mean at least the ending is cute (or cheesy, depending on who you ask). PS: Not sure how many chapters there will be in total, other than at least 3 more (one of which ill, in fact, get a little h*rny again. actually, h*rnier). Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy

Chapter 7: Harmony

“We need to talk, yeah?” Daniela asked, nearly stuttering, a sort of nervous that you had never seen her exhibit before. The first thing you think is that she’s really, really cute when she doesn’t know what to do. After that you actually process what she said. Relief floods your chest, followed by warmth, and you make a mental note to thank Bela the next time you see her. In the meantime, you were unable to contain your happiness. Out of instinct you move closer to Daniela, smiling softly, quietly reaching one of your hands towards hers. There’s no hesitance in her response. Instead of taking your hand she pulls you in for a hug, opting to rest her chin against your shoulder. Admittedly you’re a little surprised, but you return the motion nonetheless. “Oh, little songbird…”

Heart racing, you softly press against Daniela, turning your head so that you could place a single, brief kiss against her exposed collarbone. For a moment the two of you just stay like that, holding each other close. When you pull away, remembering that you still hadn’t said anything, you find that Daniela is blushing from the neck up. In turn, the sight makes you blush. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingers through her hair. Though you can’t see yourself, you know your eyes are filled with affection.

“I love when you look at me like this,” Daniela whispered, not entirely meaning to voice her thoughts. Then you’re blushing harder, smile small but sweet. “Mmm, you’re just darling, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as much as yourself, my Lady. To be in your company is to be the luckiest soul in the world. I cannot even begin to describe the feelings of which you inspire in me,” you replied, trying not to stumble over your words, barely able to process any thoughts other than ‘pretty lady likes me ahh’. Thankfully, you still remembered a few tricks from language arts class. Who knew studying the classics could make you more romantic? At least one English teacher, probably. “I’ll have plenty of time to try, though… after we talk about things, that is. Is there somewhere private we can talk? I’m not terribly eager for your mother to overhear.”

“Are you sure we can’t talk about how much you like me for a while longer?” Daniela asked, faking a pout. When you perk a brow at her antics, she shifts a little, forcing herself to be a little more serious (at least for the time being). “If you insist, my sweet thing. I’d suggest my room-” she winks at you- “but I doubt we’d stay talking for long, would we? Maybe the library? Neither of my sisters tend to go there around this time of day, and I can hardly remember the last time mother went there.”

“Well, no one from the day shift is scheduled to organize things until later this week, so… sounds like a date to me,” you chimed, enjoying the way that Daniela’s face lit up in response. “There’s just one thing I have to take care of first. Wouldn’t want my roommates to think something has happened to me, now would we?” With that said you linked your arm with your partner’s, setting off towards the servants quarters.

—————————————–

“Oh thank goodness, we were starting to get worried!” Daphne exclaimed as you quietly ducked into your room. For a second you freeze in place, hoping to whatever higher powers may be that she hadn’t seen Daniela behind you. Certainly the vampire would have moved out of sight?... Despite your assumption, you do see Daphne hesitate for a moment, gazing at the now closed door. Thinking quickly, you give a little wave to draw her attention elsewhere. Seemingly it works like a charm, with her attention returning to you, and so you release an internal sigh of relief. Now you just had to think of an excuse for why you’d be staying up late.

“It’s fine- I’m fine, really. Just had to carry something for one of the Ladies,” you lied, trying not to be specific enough to possibly contradict facts you weren’t aware of. “I, uh, kinda have to go back out, though? There are some piano books I need to find before tomorrow morning. I’ve already found a few, but apparently there’s at least one that goes over some technical practice songs, and I think D-” you almost wince, but lean into it, stuttering instead- “th-think that Lady Daniela would enjoy the variety. Not sure how long it’ll take me to find the books, so don’t stay up waiting for me. I promise I’ll still get enough sleep to function tomorrow.”

“So the lessons haven’t been canceled? That’s good to hear,” Daphne said, nodding slowly. The words catch you off guard, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion. Noticing your expression, your roommate is quick to explain. “After whatever happened yesterday… we weren’t sure if we’d ever hear you play again. Not that we know what happened, just that Lady Daniela was, well, upset, and you stopped playing sooner than usual. But I suppose if the lessons were canceled completely… I doubt Lady Dimitrescu would let you go that easily, huh?”

Again, you shift awkwardly, wondering how Daniela must feel hearing all of this. But just like that Daphne shakes her head, clearing her thoughts, and gives a little shrug.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay? I know you already promised, but we both know you’ll lose track of time if you aren’t careful. If you aren’t in bed by the time the sun reaches its peak, I swear we are gonna have words!” Both of you laugh before Daphne waves you off with a smile. Still, you wait to open the door until she (and the other maidens) has her back to you. Better safe than sorry, right?

—————————————–

Somehow the room felt different in a million ways, now that you were here with Daniela. There was something about the way she moved, freely, eyes and fingers running down the spines of familiar books. Even if you had not seen it before, it felt like the library was overflowing with magic. What I would give, you think, to see the whole world tinted in shades of her. Again you find yourself blushing as you followed Daniela towards a small sitting area. One of the chairs is practically a recliner, with plenty of space, and you realize what she has planned mere moments before she acts.

Next thing you know, you’re being pulled closer to her, practically lifted into the air. Then you’re falling back, right on top of a giggling Daniela. By the time you’ve regained your senses, you’re in her lap, held just tight enough to keep you from getting up. She’s watching your face closely, smirking with pure satisfaction.

“Are we going to be able to talk like this?” You asked, a little unsure yourself, already distracted by the soft curve of her jawline. Even as you speak you’re eying her, imagining what it would feel like to trail kisses along her skin until she was restless… Thankfully she responds before your mind gets too carried away.

“Of course we are, little songbird. Probably. If you behave,” Daniela teased, gently playing with your hair as she did. You can’t help but laugh when she suggests that you are the one who needs to control yourself. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I just… I think that it’s easier for me to, fuck, I don’t know. Relax? It’s easier for me to relax like this, holding you, getting to kiss that lovely neck of yours-” she pauses to demonstrate- “and that means I won’t freak out like last time. Or so goes my thought process, anyway.”

“In that case…” You’re sitting perpendicular to her now, still holding on tight. One hand cups her cheek, gently caressing the skin, before you lean in for a kiss. The two of you enjoy yourselves for a minute, glad to have this time together, more glad to be reassured of each other’s affection. To think that you wouldn’t even be able to meet her gaze if not for Bela’s intervention… Eventually you pull back, knowing that you did need to talk. “I care about you, firefly, and I want things between us to be real, and healthy, but I…”

The words died in your throat, a lump you couldn’t quite swallow, when memories sprung up like weeds in your brain. Communication mattered to you for a thousand reasons, and you weren’t blind to the irony of one of those reasons making you freeze up.

“I haven’t… done this before, not for real,” Daniela replied, mistaking your paues for uncertainty. “Apparently being an immortal, blood-drinking princess is only attractive in the realm of fiction. Maidens only ever seemed interested in a fleeting rush, or a fraction of a chance at an escape. They didn’t care for romance.” Now her tone gets bitter, and her eyebrows furrow. You can see her shoulders tense up, raising a little, making you try to snap out of your own thoughts for a few moments. By the time she speaks again, you’ve started to gently rub her back. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to my novels. How often does the monster actually get a happy ending?” She says the words with a hollow laugh. Still, she’s relaxed a little under your touch, even leaning into it.

“You’ve… done some bad things. Hurt a lot of people, and I can’t pretend that doesn’t scare me,” you started to say, ignoring the heartache you feel when you see Daniela’s hurt expression. “But you’re more than that. You’re soft, cute, and mischievous. More than that… I can tell that you want something beautiful. We can have that, we can make that, for ourselves, with our own hands and our own desires. But we can’t use stories as a blueprint. We can’t rely on what we’ve read, not when everything the two of us do is brand new. Not when-” you close your eyes, fighting back tears, glimpsing fragments of your last relationship- “not when I’ve already been hurt by my own misconceptions. The things we read aren’t always real, or right, or anything like what we need. What we deserve.”

“Something tells me you’re holding back a little,” Daniela murmured, barely able to get the words out. It almost looks like she’s close to crying, but her cheeks are dry, and her voice is steady. “But you’re right. What we have is better than anyone could write, anyway. You’re my little songbird, and I’m not letting you go anytime soon. Even if I have to figure out this whole ‘communication’ thing. I suppose that means I should… come clean. About a few things.” There’s a clear hesitance to her voice, like she’s embarrassed, and she’s speaking slower than usual. A blush rises to her cheeks before she takes a deep breath.

“We don’t have to talk about everything right now, if you aren’t ready. We’ve already made good progress, I think, even if half of it might be because of your sisters. Well, sister, singular. Cassandra throwing me into that wall really didn’t help anyone. Except maybe the chiropractor I will inevitably need to see,” you joked, remembering your earlier conversation with Bela.

“Hold up for a fucking second, Cassandra did what? I’m going to replace all her paint brushes with stained carpet strips, and that’s if she apologizes. Nobody fucks with my baby,” Daniela snapped, expression as serious as can be. Normally you found her anger to be terrifying. Now that she was directing it at someone else? And on your behalf?... Maybe it was a tiny bit cute. Which you tried to show, by gently bringing her in for another kiss. Of course, Daniela isn’t quite as gentle, instead kissing you hard, holding you as closely as she can. There’s a bit of possessiveness in her grip, and it makes you tense up. But as soon as you do she’s pulling back, breathing hard, eyes weighed down with concern.

“Y’know, I think she was just mad that I made you cry. And if I found out someone made you cry, I would be pretty angry. Not that I’d throw someone, partially because I don’t think I could, but still. It’s… almost cute how much your sisters care about you. Almost, just not quite,” you said, eager to draw the attention away from your reaction. Like you had told Daniela, it was okay if you weren’t ready to talk about everything. “Speaking of that, I can’t believe I haven’t apologized yet. I panicked so much, I didn’t even realize I was yelling until you picked me up. No matter how frustrated I was, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t, please,” Daniela interrupted, eyes closing for a moment. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing. I pinned you to the wall, and not for the usual reason!” There’s a bit of panic in her expression, and you get the feeling that she’s beating herself up inside about it. Which, based on what you had thought about what you had done, was understandable.

“Consider this: We both fucked up, and we’ve both acknowledged it now, so we could just… not talk about our regrets? At least for now,” you countered, glad to see Daniela relax and nod in response. Leaning in, you shift to rest your head against her shoulder, wanting to enjoy her proximity more. “Hey… if I’m your songbird, and you’re my firefly… are we, I don’t know… officially a couple now?”

“I was under the impression that we already were,” Daniela said, clearly a little confused. While you technically agreed with her… there was another part of you that wanted to have a little fun.

“You never asked, and I know I never did either, so…” Now you’re looking up at her, smile wide, heart beating faster than normal. “Lady Daniela, firefly of house Dimitrescu, lover of romance novels, player of pianos, keeper of my heart… Will you do me the honor of allowing me to court you? To be yours, officially, in the pursuit of affection and happiness like the village- nay, the world- has never before seen? Will you be my girlfriend?”

“How’s this for an answer, songbird?” Daniela cooed. Then she was lifting your chin from her shoulder, turning her head and bringing you closer. Your lips touch, as gentle as can be. It’s a short kiss, but one radiating with love, that ends with your foreheads pressed against each other. In this moment, you feel like you could stay in her arms for the rest of eternity. “Yes. Absolutely yes, obviously, a thousand times. I could never say no to you, especially not now, with your eyes so desperate for the sight of me, and your lips so begging to be kissed. Now, how about we celebrate, hmm?”

Just as Daphne had predicted, you end up staying awake far too late, but you were all the happier for it.

#daniela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #is this any good #today was a bit weird #kinda tired sorry

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issaxcharlie · 3 years

Text

Something so right

Pairing: Alive! Luke x Fem reader

Summary: A date with the golden boy of the school reveals Y/N’s and Luke's true feelings for each other and they have no choice but to face what they feel. Who will take the first step?

(The fragments of the song are from Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift)

Luke Patterson was more impatient than usual. 7:30 pm and no sign of his best friend, the one who had never missed a Sunset Curve rehearsal in these two years that they had been playing together.

“Am I the only one worried about Y/N? She is not usually late."

Reggie slaps his forehead, a memory snapping back into his head. "I forgot to tell you she won't be here today, she said something about a date."

The guitarist feels a punch in the stomach, he tries to hide how bitter the news fell on him, but his friends know him better than that.

“A date? With who?” Alex asks, genuinely curious.

“Austin Grayson.”

“Ugh, really Y/N?” But of course it had to be the school's golden boy. Luke can't help not feeling insecure. Austin Grayson is everything Luke Patterson isn't, and that scares him. What if that's what she's really looking for in a partner? He just wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Nice, he really has to like her to invited her despite what everyone says." Bobby responds as he takes advantage of the short break to rest his hands. Reggie and Alex nodding in agreement.

“What do they say?” Luke asks, completely lost.

“Oh please, most of the school thinks you guys are dating. There isn't a day that I don't hear someone call her Patterson’s girl." Alex replies, and Luke looks even more lost.

He can somehow understand why they would think that, he always enjoys having her and feeling her close. Usually touching her hand or arm in some way, hugging her whenever he sees fit. Carrying her books in the hallways or supporting her at her basketball games, just like she accompanies them to all the band's rehearsals and performances, or how she sometimes wears to school the clothes that he 'accidentally' leaves at her home when her mom invites him to dinner. On second thought, it’s easy to understand the confusion.

You don’t know what is happening. Austin is sweet, handsome, smart, and yet you feel nothing. Forced yourself to laugh falsely all night, and couldn't help but think that it would have been more fun to join the boys in rehearsal, especially when they were only a few days away from Sunset Curve's first performance at school.

When you finally get home, you walk with your head on the floor, trying not to make eye contact with your date. Austin gently grabs your chin so you turn to see him.

A fake cough from behind causes you both to jump away from each other. You don't even have to turn to find out who owns that perfect timed cough.

“What are you doing here?” You refuse to turn around, but you know he's smirking anyway.

“It’s movie night, love.” You force one more smile towards Austin as you curse Luke under your breath, who emphasized the last word in that seductive deep voice he sometimes does when he sings and that secretly melts your legs.

“Patterson." Austin tries to get past the awkward moment by participating in the conversation, and Luke responds by approaching and placing his arm on your shoulder.

"Grayson. Thank you for bringing her safe and sound." He sounds sincere, and that makes you smile for real for the first time of the night.

“It was nothing... I should go. Goodnight Y/N, I had a great time.”

Luke lowers his arm from your shoulder and leans back, ashamed of his rare moment of insecurity and letting you say goodbye to the boy.

As soon as he leaves, you turn to see your best friend, who looks sadly at the ground, and you hug him tightly.

Luke has been through very difficult months, and it is easy for someone who is vulnerable to feel insecure, especially in situations new to them. Not to mention that you are definitely not going to fight with the person you love for putting his arm on your shoulder or calling you in an affectionate way, which are things that he usually does, guy in your doorstep or not. You decide that he showing a little jealousy for once is not the end of the world.

“I missed you so much, rockstar.” You murmur still against his chest, your statement only makes him hold you tighter. You can't help but think about how just hugging him for a few seconds makes you so much happier than the whole date you just had.

“I’m sorry for making a scene. No wonder everyone thinks we are dating.“

“I don’t mind. I couldn't wear your cool flannels or your necklaces if I was dating someone. Plus it would take away valuable time that I can use as the president of the Sunset Curve fan club.” He chuckles. You can feel his body relax and his heartbeat begins to calm down. He gives you a sweet kiss in your hair before letting you go.

Best friends walk into the house, and as Y/N goes to change into something more comfortable Luke sits at the kitchen counter to chat with his second female best friend.

"You have to do something quick, I don't want to have you here crying and eating ice cream while she's on some date with some graceless snob.”

The guitarist can't help but laugh. Y/N's mom has always been a music lover and one of his greatest inspirations. She gave him his first guitar and taught him how to play, always supporting him in each of his steps as a musician. She has always loved him like a son, believing in him with all her might and always blindly entrusting him with what she loves most in the world, her daughter Y/N.

“I know, I will I promise. What I felt today when I saw Grayson touch her face and so close to her lips... I never want to experience that again. I was thinking maybe at homecoming? Sunset Curve is going to perform.”

She wrinkles her nose in response and Luke laughs again.

"Yeah too much information, I’m sorry. And I know, but we have to start somewhere. As soon as we get booked at a good enough club you'll be the first guest.”

They both make a pinky promise and smile.

“I’ll make you proud someday. I swear.”

“I’m always proud of you, my sweet boy. I know you’ll do amazing things, just take good care of my princess during tours.”

“You know I will.” They pinky promise again and reunite with Y/N in the living room to watch movies til the teens fall asleep cuddling.

Homecoming day arrived and you don’t have a partner. It is not hard to imagine why, being surrounded by at least one of the Sunset Curve members 24/7, especially Luke who tries to be close to you as much as possible, as if he is afraid that you will forget him if you spend too much time separated. Which is actually something you like, if you are honest with yourself. Is not something you would tell him but feeling him close and having his attention devoted to you most of the time feels quite special.

The date with Austin didn’t feel right and only confirmed what you've been trying to deny yourself for months. You are in love with freakin Luke Patterson. And you are in really deep, loving the good, bad, fun, boring, charming, and annoying parts, absolutely every side of him. And now is the time to finally do something about it.

After the guys show tonight, even more girls will be raining down on them than usual and things could get really messy, it's best to make your move first. Inside your heart you know that he feels the same, and if he doesn't have the courage to act on it then you will.

The first and most important thing you need to do to get the operation going is to kidnap Reggie, Alex and Bobby.

After a little threatening session everyone sang about Luke's idea for tonight, which made you grin like an idiot and feel more confident about your plan. The surprise that he will get when he sees how you sabotaged his plan.

Convincing Luke that it was best for you to come on your own so that they would have more time to prepare was not easy, but in the end you succeeded.

He's not a suit kinda person, but you went along with him to get a dark blue one that looked unreal on him just a few weeks ago, and you knew he would find a way to wear it sleeveless so he will look even more irresistible. You opted for a black dress that fades beautifully to blue towards the bottom of the skirt and in which you really look pretty good If you can say it yourself.

Sunset Curve finishes singing the first song, Now or never. It's time for the song Luke wrote for you, but he turns to see his friends scared when he still can't find you in the crowd. They smile at him and start to play the song they practiced with you just a few hours before.

“The way you move is like a full on rainstorm, and I'm a house of cards. You're the kind of reckless that should send me running, but I kinda know that I won't get far.”

You walk onto the stage as you start the first verse, Luke is shocked for a few seconds but then grins from ear to ear.

“And you stood there in front of me just... close enough to touch.” He recovers much faster than expected and pulls you by the waist towards him, just the microphone separating you two while he looks at you with the most seductive face you’ve ever seen.

“'Cause I see, sparks fly, whenever you smile... Get me with those green eyes, baby as the lights go down.” He blushes a little and smiles while his eyes are locked on your lips, capturing every move.

After what seems like an eternity, the song ends and before you can even say thank you, Luke's lips crash against yours, and it’s even better than what you’ve dreamed plenty of times. All the people start screaming, but you especially hear Reggie and Alex a few steps away who sound pretty happy for you.

“Reggie, an issue occurred, I have to go, sing home is where my horse is if you want to.” Luke whispers to his friend, before effortlessly carrying you off the stage.

“Admit it, you just want to touch my legs.” You joke while he walks with you on his shoulder.

“I’m in love with a really smart girl.” You stay quiet, your heart wants to jump out of your chest and you don’t even want to imagine how red your face is right now.

The guitarist finally brings you down when you leave the building, and you both walk to the park next door, where you met when you were just kids.

"Do you remember exactly how we met?" He asks while taking your hand.

“Reggie and Alex teamed up to destroy you in a game they invented and I was the only one in the park, so you invited me to join your team. And when we managed to win you said that we were the best duo on the face of the earth, that we had to be best friends forever."

“I sound very intense.”

“You are.”

They both laugh at the memory.

"You were still right."

“When did you finally realize that you loved me?” Luke asks, smirking playfully.

“I've known for a long time, but I didn't dare to admit it until recently.”

He completely accepts my answer and sincerity and smiles at me.

“I always knew that we would end up together, you eat me with your eyes when I'm not wearing a shirt.”

His teasing takes effect and you blush just remembering him in that situation.

He smiles cheekily and then takes mercy on you and changes the subject.

“So, we are the best duo on the face of the earth, best friends forever, and now an official couple?”

“That’s right, handsome and smart. Nice.”

Both approach until their lips touch, the kiss begins calm but quickly becomes more passionate, his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth, his arms strong on your hips. You let this amazing sensations envelop you and you lose yourself in him, happier than you've ever been.

When you are with the right person, everything feels just right.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@siennanoelle01 , @totomoshi , @kiss-themoongoodbye , @writerinlearning

#luke patterson fanfiction #luke x reader #luke patterson oneshot #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie x y/n #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie imagine #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #jatp imagine #jatp one shot

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 3 years

Text

Quiver (bbh)

Summary: You meet a man who seems to know nearly everything about you, save your name.

As with nearly every Baek fic I write, for @illneverrecover! Although she actually paid me for this one hahaha

Also thank you to my sister for betaing and making my gorgeous banner!

Warnings: angst, violence and death tw, unprotected sex, outdoors sex, oral sex (f. receiving), this is more soft and sad than horny tbh

Word Count: 10,219

Deja vu is something you don't feel very often, and so when it washes over you in a wave that leaves goosebumps on your flesh, you look around.

You're not sure what you're looking for, but you feel that when you find it, you'll know.

Your eyes fall on a man sitting at a table, looking down at a book. His hair is slicked back but with pieces falling into his face, and as if he knows you're staring, he looks up at you.

He has the warmest brown eyes, and something like a shock shoots through your heart. Your feet are moving before you realize it.

"Have we met before?"

He smiles, and your heart flutters.

"Maybe in another life."

His name, it turns out, is Baekhyun, and he works at some investment firm you've never heard of but it doesn't matter because he has the most endearing way of smiling at you while you're speaking to him.

You assume he has money because the car he leads you to is nice, not ridiculously so but expensive to upkeep, a foreign model that's sleek and your favorite color: red.

"Why red?" You ask, sliding into the leather seat of this stranger's car because you just know he's safe, somewhere in you.

He gives you that half smile again, the one that gives you something akin to deja vu.

"Reminds me of someone."

You wonder if you might fuck him on the first date, if coffee even counts as a first date, and it's the first time you've ever done that but when he makes you tea and you lean against his kitchen counter he gives you this look. It's like there's something dark and deep in his brown eyes, something both flirty and almost darkly lustful.

It makes your heart flip. It makes your body tingle. It makes you a little afraid.

But you've never been one to run from fear, especially when it's all wrapped up with excitement and lust.

When you're sitting on his couch and sipping tea he's swiveled his body toward you just slightly, open and inviting, but he doesn't make a move, just watches you, listens as you fill the silence, laughs when you make a face when you pick up his tea instead of yours, which is bitter and devoid of the sugar you love.

You make the first move, in fact, end up clutching at his shirt as you kiss his mouth over and over because it feels soft and his tongue is hot and it feels familiar.

His hands skate up your sides once, above your shirt, and then again, under it, and that feels familiar too, long fingers on your flesh.

"You haven't met your soulmate yet," the tarot reader said. You and a friend had visited her a few years ago, when you were half drunk at a carnival.

"At least," she'd continued, "not in this lifetime."

"Are you sure we haven't met before?" You ask, two weeks later when you've spent almost all

your free time with him, and most of it in his bed.

"Maybe in your dreams," he'd quipped, and you elbow him but he's already spooning you and you're too half asleep to do much damage.

"Always in mine," he says, softly, just as you're drifting to sleep, and you can't pry your eyes open long enough to ask what that means.

You start a fling of sorts with this mysterious man, and for the most part, you’re happy. But then you start having these dreams.

Sometimes, there’s fire on a wall in front of you and when you turn around it’s behind you, too.

You can feel your skin burning and you can barely breathe when you wake.

Sometimes there’s thunder booming all around you, lightning that streaks across the sky and you’re running and running toward someone, a man with warm brown eyes, but you can’t get there and when you look down you’re running in water up to your waist.

Always, he’s there. You suppose it’s because you and Baekhyun have been spending so much time together, that he’s in your head all the time as much as you hate to admit it.

Finally, he’s next to you in bed when you bolt upright, frightened by the thunder because it’s one of those fire dreams, one where you can feel the flesh on your arms crinkling, and it burns burns burns until it doesn’t, until you feel so cold you wake up shivering.

You’re afraid and disoriented and the dream all comes out in a rush — you tell him everything, small details about how you’re clutching a rosary in one hand, how the baubles on it popped n the flames, and he puts his arms around you, lets you bury your face in his chest as your heart rate slows down.

“Your name was Eva, then,” he murmurs, so quietly you’d think you were still dreaming.

Something about it rings true. You wonder if you’d heard that in the dream and told him still half asleep, so you nod against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes into your neck after pulling you into his lap and it’s so mournful it almost frightens you.

“You can’t help my dreams,” you say playfully, trying to forget it, and he gives you the saddest smile.

“No, not those.”

You keep having those dreams, and they get more and more detailed and sometimes your name is Eva and sometimes it’s Yui and sometimes it’s Sarabeth and they’re all different, you look different, but you always feel how it ends.

And Baekhyun is always there. He looks the same, unlike you, and sometimes he’s your enemy, sometimes he’s your friend but most of the time, he’s your lover.

The dream that finally makes you confront him goes like this.

Your name is Angelica and your father was royalty but you’re just a bastard, your mother a commoner, a servant of the crown.

Once you’re old enough to have his eyes, you have to stay hidden like some fairy tale princess. Except you’re no princess in your dusty cabin, and you learn to hunt small game so that your mother doesn’t have to steal so much from the castle. It’s good that you learn, because your mother stops coming to the cabin and you learn that the plague has taken her.

The plague has taken nearly everyone, and you haven’t seen another person in months when you happen upon a man.

You have your bow drawn before he ever sees you, the string (made of rabbit sinew because it’s all you had, the bow made of oak that you’d chopped yourself) and arrow pointed straight and true.

He shifts, turns around and you hesitate just a moment when you catch his gaze, something familiar in his deep brown eyes. It’s long enough for him to draw his own bow, and he’s quick, quicker than you are, so you let your arrow fly.

His arrow flies a second after yours and they meet in the space between you, shredding each other in two.

You’d thought, then, that it was an omen.

Good or bad, you didn’t know.

You’d run back to the cabin and locked yourself in, but he’d followed you.

A few hours later, he knocked on the door and your heart started to race. Your mother had warned you what men could do to an unattended woman.

There was nothing else, though, and you waited half an hour to open the door.

A basket is sitting on the doorstep, and it contains dried meat and fresh cherries and peaches.

You hadn’t had fruit in years. There’s also a small bouquet of flowers, filled with dandelion fluff and baby’s breath, a few blossoms of lavender. It smells lovely.

You take your time eating the peaches, they have the sweetest juice that you let run down your chin like a child.

It’s been so long since you’ve eaten well that you overdo it and your stomach feels tied in a knot, but you’re smiling when you fall asleep that night, for what feels like the first time.

There’s another basket at the end of the week but he’s standing on the doorstep with it, smiling.

“Maiden, I was wondering if you had any water?”

“Will you draw your bow again when I turn my back?” You ask, wary, and he shakes his head, laughing softly.

“You drew yours first, maiden. I was surprised. The plague has taken so many it seems like I’m the only one left in all the world.”

He doesn’t look intimidating, doesn’t look as if he’s about to rush you, but you’ll be damned if you’ll let a strange man into your home, so you sit on the doorstep with him and eat the peaches he’d brought.

He watches the juice drip down your fingers, how you lick it off, with something in his eyes you haven’t seen before.

You sit and chat for a while, still wary, but he keeps looking at you like that, and you wonder if this is what it feels like, if this is what is to be wanted.

Three days and three dinners of peaches and dried meat later, you let him inside for a glass of water drawn from the well out back.

He drinks it down like he’s been thirsty for days, and you feel guilty for not letting him in earlier.

The way he licks his lips when he’s done makes something flutter inside your stomach and you put a hand there, low, almost on your pubic bone.

He watches every move you make, this mystery man who doesn’t have a hint of facial hair despite living in the woods, watches where you place your hands and fingers, how you move your mouth. He watches you as if you’re something fascinating, like watching fire burn wood down to embers.

When you were young, your mother took you to the Maypole festival, and all the children had been given these long sticks to dip in the fire, to twirl them around and make shapes in the night sky. You’d done it over and over until the stick was burned down too far and even then, you tried to dip it and burned your wrist.

He looks at you like you’d looked at the shapes you’d made with the lit stick. With wonder.

The first time he touches you it feels like the first time you’d felt warm water on your skin as a child, warmed on the fire with an iron pot, your mother spooning it over you slowly.

He touches you that way, slowly, murmuring bits of your name and it slides off his tongue like honey.

“Angelica. Angel,” he murmurs, right at the shell of your ear, and your bones seem to turn to jelly as you melt into him, your back against his chest.

Your mother had told you that one day you’d have a lover.

“Not a king,” she’d said, “but something more.”

You’d asked her what’s more than a king and she’d only smiled, held a finger to her lips as if the two of you shared a secret.

You did, your secret was that you existed, that your father was who he was and that your mother wasn’t his queen, at least not in name.

You tremble underneath his hands and when he turns you around, presses his mouth to yours, he does it slowly. You’re the one who grabs the back of his head, threads your fingers through the long hair at the nape of his neck, wanting him closer, so close, wanting to burrow inside him and live there because you’re aching for him all over and you don’t know what it means.

“Let me call you by your name,” you plead when he’s kneeling before you, pulling down your underclothes, spreading the curls at your core where you’re hot and aching and wet.

He shakes his head. “I have too many names.”

“Tell me one of them,” you beg.

He doesn’t answer, presses his mouth to your cunt and you gasp, tugging his hair hard and he makes a low groan, throat exposed, that makes something come awake in your lower stomach, something somehow both like fire and honey, hot and slow and sweet.

“Give me your name,” you demand.

One corner of his mouth turns up.

“My name is Love,” he tells you, and presses his face back into your cunt, inhales like he loves the scent of you, his hands spreading apart your thighs so roughly that you brace your hands on the table behind you.

It isn’t a name you’d heard any man to have, but maybe he isn’t a man, maybe he’s one of the fae your Irish born mother told you stories about when you were a girl.

Maybe that’s the something more your mother told you about your future lover after reading your palm when you were sixteen.

You hunt together, and you’re in awe of how quick he is with his bow, how he shoots straight through the heart of even the smallest animals, voles and rabbits that you roast over the fire and feast on while he tells you wild tales about his brothers and sisters.

One rules the sea, he tells you, with a magic trident. One makes lightning bolts for his father deep underground where there’s fire so hot it melts rock and stone.

You’re fascinated, sit for hours just watching his mouth as he speaks and sometimes you vault into his lap mid sentence, silence him with your mouth on his because you want want want.

Your mother had told you many things about your future lover, about how you should be demure just like a man wants, but you can’t even try, not with him. Not with your mysterious, many named, no named lover, because he presses your nails deep into his chest when you straddle his hips, hisses when you leave bite marks along his throat and collarbone.

You pretend to be demure sometimes, if only to make him frown, to make him throw you down on your bedclothes roughly, to bite your lip bloody.

“Don’t pretend you don’t have talons, angel,” he growled, and you can’t help the way you laugh loud and open, even with your legs spread wantonly.

Physical love isn’t at all like your mother had described it, and you wonder if she’d only ever been with the king, with a man who cared so little for his paramours that he’d allowed your mother to die alone in the slums, locking her out from the castle so that his heirs might live.

It isn’t something that you lie down and take the way your mother must have, sometimes it’s animalistic, feral like you’d seen horses mate at the castle’s stables when you were young.

You present yourself on all fours and he slides his hands down your ass, grabs the flesh there to part you, presses his face into your cunt until your thighs are shaking. It’s not love that you feel during those times, not exactly, more like that want want want that you feel so often with him.

Your breath catches when he pulls your hair, wraps it around his fist so that your back arches, so that you twist to look at him. Later, when you’re both sweaty and sated, that’s when the love comes, loud and blooming in your chest as he kisses the fingerprint bruises he’s left on your hips, his fingers gentle on your sensitive skin until your breath slows.

Love is a thing that blooms, you would write if you’d ever been taught how. Love is my man’s name and it’s blooming in me like spring flowers.

You go for walks to gather berries because you’re too busy fucking to hunt and you can get by on a few more fruits and you don’t want to wake him. Once you’d brought home rose petals for tea and a piece of a honey comb that had made his eyes light up.

He’d spread the honey across your nipples, suckled and nipped there until you were sore, and one day, you want that again, especially the way his brown eyes sparkled when he’d seen it.

You have a way with the bees, after all, a way of singing high and sweet that makes them buzz around you slowly instead of angrily.

You’re halfway down the path before you realize you’ve left your quiver and bow. Love (both the man and the feeling) makes you feel stupid, heady and slow, and you pause for a moment, wondering if you should turn back.

Instead, you head forward because it’ll be sunset soon and you won’t be able to find that tree, the one with the beehive and honeycomb that your man loves so much.

It happens so quickly it feels like an instant. You step out from the bushes after gathering some blackberries, so juicy they’ve stained your fingers, and the next thing you know, you’re on the ground. When you try to stand, you can’t, a pain blooming (a lot like love) through your stomach and you’re sure there weren’t any raspberries so what’s this red spreading out onto the ground?

You see your man’s boots, barely laced, before you see his face and someone behind you is stuttering but you hear the swish of your lover’s arrow, a choked, gurgling sound and then he’s knelt down at your side.

“Angel, angel,” he whispers, and he’s crying and you want to tell him not to because it makes you afraid.

What’s happened? What’s wrong?

You don’t realize you’re not actually speaking until he cradles your face, lies down in the dirt to face you, and everything but his touch, his eyes, seems far away and unimportant.

“I’m sorry,” he says brokenly. “I need you to remember. When next we meet, remember my name.”

You want to. You want to remember everything about him but you’re sure that you’re floating away now.

“Baekhyun,” he tells you. “My name will be Baekhyun.”

As an immortal, it's hard to remember every moment. Years and decades blur together. The only moments Baekhyun can call to mind in perfect recall are the first times he's seen you

For a while, he’d thought Rome might be the worst lifetime he’d ever have.

He knows what he’s supposed to do, knows it’s his job, but he can barely ever bring himself to do it.

In Rome, you’re excited, young, bouncing around with your hair braided. Fire red, always red, always as fiery as your personality. “Eros, right? God of love.”

He’d smiled, wondering if he looked as tired as he felt. “You think I’m a god? I’m flattered.”

You scoff, swirl your dress around as you turn, speaking with your hands as always and his heart aches with how familiar it all is. “Don’t think that means you’re special.”

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes. Means that you’re here to help me fall in love.”

“Is that so?” He can’t stop smiling at you, despite knowing what will inevitably happen next.

“Mmhm.” You’d taken his hand, flipped your braid over to the other side of your shoulder. He always tries. He always tries, gods damn it, damn his father and his brothers and sisters, he tries.

But there’s always this moment, where you take his hand, or brush your knuckles against his lips just so, or you just look at him up under your lashes, and the arrow he’s supposed to be aiming feels like it goes straight through his heart.

“I have someone in mind.”

It’s like the arrow in his heart twists, and gods know his arrows have always been true and fatal.

Your smile is so bright, and his heart is so full but it hurts at the same time and what a curse this is, to be able to fall in love with you so easily but have you fall for someone else just as fast.

He tells himself that he won’t try to change your mind, that he won’t let himself get close to you as you go on this search for your true mate.

You’d been childhood sweethearts, you and your match, but he’s been called away to war and you’ve been in mourning ever since.

He’s a god, but he is the god of love, after all, and with all your heart you believed that you loved another. He tells himself he’s doing the right thing… for the third time.

The first time, when it had all started, he’d fallen in love with you and seduced you and you’d forgotten all about your true match and it had all ended in fire and blood.

In Rome, in your third lifetime, he tells himself he won’t let that happen again. So when you put your hand on his thigh when you crouch down to drink on your journey, he wills his skin not to heat and his heart not to skip.

Three weeks in and you’re exhausted, your feet are swollen and bleeding from all the walking and you slide into his furs instead of your own, press your face against his chest.

“Maybe he’s gone,” you say, quietly, and Baekhyun is as still as death, telling himself he doesn’t want to lean down to kiss you, to tell you that it doesn’t matter where your sweetheart is because he’s here and ready and he wants you more than anything.

“We’ll find him,” he promises, and it’s a promise he keeps, even when you press your mouth to his and he takes it, this small comfort, until you fall into a fitful sleep.

Greece was bittersweet, because you found your match in the end and Baekhyun shot his arrow hoping that he’d miss. But his arrow was true, shot straight into the heart of your paramore.

You found your true match, fell in love, had children, and Baekhyun could have gone. Could have sailed away at sea, gone anywhere in the world. But even in Greece he’d spent three lifetimes with you (in one way or another) and he can’t bring himself to be more than a few miles away from you.

Instead, he’d watch you playing with your daughter in the garden, watch you kiss your husband, laughing into his mouth when he picked you up.

He watched you grow old, have grandchildren, plant roses that still never bloomed. You were never a gardener, no matter how you tried. It’s odd, how happy he feels for you, and how his heart clenches in his chest, how hard he wishes it were him.

He would never grow old, and he would never have you more than a few fleeting weeks, months, once even two wonderful years. Eros is love, and love isn’t supposed to fall in love.

So when he did, all those years ago, his father cursed him to find your match, over and over and over. It was you then and it’s you in Greece and Rome and England and Portugal and a thousand other countries that didn’t even have names when he’d met you there.

He’d thought Greece would be the worst because of the longing, because of the jealousy that brewed vile in the back of his throat, but Rome was much worse.

The Church ruled everything and at first Baekhyun thought that was normal. After all, when he was young he and his family had ruled everything. These are just different gods, although perhaps harsher ones.

They called you a harlot because of the fire red of your hair, the way you wore dresses slit up to your hip, the way you'd laugh if someone asked the last time you'd gone to confession.

"You should go to Mass," he'd warned with a lock of that fire red hair slipping through his fingers.

You'd smiled at him. "Why's that, lover? You want to hear my confession?"

He tugs your hair, exposing your throat as you let out a raspy moan, grinding against his thigh.

"What have you to confess, stellina?”

(Of all the languages and all the pet names he'd called you, stellina is his favorite, translates to star, and you burn so bright and beautiful it breaks his heart.)

"Impure thoughts," you muse. "Fornication before marriage.”

You pause. "This might take some time, amore."

You slide down under the linen, leaving open mouthed kisses and nips on his hip bones and thighs, and he forgets what he was going to warn you about.

(He loves any term you call him, in Spain mi corazon, in England love, in German liebling. But his true favorite is when you learn his name, his true name.)

You die fighting, that lifetime, clawing at the priests who’ve decided a witch needs baptism, holding you under the water until you finally stop, your nails broken and bloody.

Baekhyun finds you there, hours too late because he’d been sleeping off the night before, when he’d warned you about Mass, when you’d both stayed up all night, love talk and making love and a good deal of fucking, too, and he hates himself.

Hates that even though he is what he is, he needs sleep and food and water. He hates himself when he lifts you up, your fire red hair darkened by the water, hates himself when he kisses your bloody nails one by one and buries you behind the garden where you used to plant roses that never bloomed.

He hates himself most because it never gets easier, seeing you die, never gets easier knowing that he can’t, that he’s cursed to do this over and over.

In 1402, in Malaysia, you’d just had two streaks of red locks in the front, tendrils that stuck to the sides of your face when you were sweating, and you’re sweating when he first sees you, although you hit him before he ever sees your face.

You’d dropped down from a tree branch, locked your arms around his neck and cut off his airflow. It isn’t as if you could have killed him, but he respects it, all the same. You’ve got this little knife and you slice his throat but it doesn’t bleed, closes up as you watch and you drop to your knees, wide eyed but still, not submitting. Even when you know he’s a god, you never submit. At least, not that way.

Later, he kisses all the scars on your forearms and wrists, defensive wounds from battles and scuffles with the male soldiers who’d found you out.

"I never let them break me," you'd said, proudly, but there's something behind your eyes that makes him want to slaughter all the male soldiers in their sleep, bring you their heads, a sacrifice like the old gods had demanded.

As he had once demanded, before he met a human girl with an immortal soul full of fire and was punished for worshipping her.

Now it's 2021 and he's been through so many years, and he's tired. He's changed his name, over and over, from Eros to Cupid to then more common names.

He's been Baekhyun the last four lifetimes because you seem to like it, it makes you giggle in 1924 when your red (always red, red like fire and blood and love and all things that are important to him) hair was bobbed and you were wearing a black sequined dress at a speakeasy.

"Baek," you'd laughed, tipsy, one hand on his arm and he couldn't stop smiling at you. "Almost like Bark, like a dog."

"I'll be whatever you want me to be," he'd answered, flirting but also honest. He'd always been whatever you wanted because he got so few years with you, each time.

"You'd be my dog?" Your eyes sparkled with booze and excitement.

He nodded. "Follow you around like a puppy."

When you'd given him an incredulous smile, he'd opened his mouth in the middle of a packed speakeasy in New York City and barked like a dog.

The way you'd laughed is something he can hear in his dreams years later, tries to make it the memory he remembers most instead of the ones where you'd died screaming.

Now, there are no more gods who want you for sacrifice, all of his kind who were vengeful had gone silent, moved on or passed on, including his father who'd cursed him in the first place.

He's hoping, every lifetime, that this is where it ends. He's hoping that this time he doesn't have to tell you.

He's wrong, just like he had been in 1425 and 1604 and 1976. The curse outs itself, as curses always do.

You sit up in bed, watching him sleep and shivering, for what seems like hours after that dream.

He wakes slowly, but scrambles up into a seated position as soon as he’s fully conscious, being careful not to touch you.

“Do you remember?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You mumble, even if you have a feeling you do.

“At some point, you always remember.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you so goddamn cryptic?” Your voice is hoarse and loud.

He nods, as if expecting your outburst.

“Sometimes you’re not ready to hear.”

You want to scream in frustration. “Hear what?”

“What I am. What we are.”

“And what are we?”

“Immortals.”

You gawk at him. He makes it sound so simple, like he’s talking to a child.

“You’re an immortal?”

“You, too.” He pauses. “Well, in a different way.”

“So what, you’re telling me that was real? My dream? Angelica?”

Baekhyun lets out a long breath, shifts on the bed to face you.

“You were Eva. Angelica. Yui. In Greece I called you stellina. You’ve had more names than I have.”

You look up into his eyes and if he’s lying, he deserves an Academy award for the performance.

“What… what are you?”

You aren’t sure if you’re frightened or intrigued or both.

Baekhyun smiles then, wryly.

“Eros. Cupid. Angelica simply called me Love.”

“You’re telling me you’re like... the god of love? The one with the arrows?”

He looks as if he wants to laugh at you but wisely, he doesn’t. Instead he nods.

“Is it… is it always like it was when… when I was Angelica?” You ask, breathing in deeply because you remembered the pain in your chest, the way the blood spread out on the dirt in your lucid dream.

“Almost always,” he says softly, and reaches out to put his hands on yours.

You would have thought you would have flinched away but instead, his touch seems to comfort you and you lean into him.

“What happens when I don’t?” You ask, curiously, and something shutters over his eyes.

“You’re happy.” He rubs your knuckles between his fingers.

It’s a lot to take in and you have a million more questions but also, you can’t think of a single one that you can put into words. You pace around the bedroom and when that’s not enough, your entire apartment, and then outside to the elevator and back and he stays put, sitting cross legged in bed and looking at you with those deep brown eyes.

Finally, you plop down on the edge of the bed, exhausted.

“So what do we do?”

He just looks at you, again with that bemused smile playing at the edge of his mouth.

“How do we fix it?” You demand.

Instead of responding, he takes your hands in his again, brushes his lips across your knuckles but this time you do recoil.

“I’m not going to die horribly again. You can’t want that.”

“Of course I don’t,” he murmurs, and you want a reaction, something other than the way he’s just looking at you so you shove him and he just lets you, falls back on the bed when you do it a second time.

“You just keep letting me die?” You accuse, crawling up onto the bed and he makes a growl in the back of his throat, grasps your wrists with one of his hands and pins you when you try to shove him again.

“I never let you die. I try over and over and over to save you, but I can’t. The only way I can save you is by finding-”

He looks away from you, shuts his mouth with a click of his teeth and you wriggle under him.

“Finding what?” You insist.

He lets you go, rolls over and puts his forearm over his eyes.

“Your true match. In all the lifetimes that you’ve lived to old age in, I shot my arrow to find your true match.”

You deflate, lying there next to him and staring up at the ceiling.

“So you’re saying in order to live like a normal person, I have to fall in love with someone else?”

“Yes,” he says miserably. After a few moments, he lifts his arm and opens one eye to look at you. “Got anyone in mind?”

You shove at his arm, but not as hard this time, and he breaks into a smile, takes you into his arms. You melt against him, just like before, because that’s what feels right, that’s what feels natural.

“That happened? Before?” You ask, stroking his hair and usually he preens at the attention, leans back to kiss you but now he buries his face in your hair, avoiding your gaze.

He murmurs something in affirmation and kisses just under your earlobe.

“You found someone else for me?”

He nods, still not lifting his head, and you huff out a breath, wanting some kind of reaction out of him.

“Was he hot?”

Baekhyun groans and laughs, rolls over onto his back. ‘You always do this.”

“Always do what?” You demand, poking at his side. “You know all these things about me...or well, some version of me, and I don’t know anything about you.”

He looks at you, smiling just a little. “You know everything about me.”

You huff, frustrated. “It doesn’t feel like it. I want to know more. I want to know how I died, why I died, what all this means.”

To his credit, Baekhyun tries to explain it to you. The curse, his family, but it’s all twisted up in your mind with these memories you have of him in past lives, of being so in love with him you can barely breathe, wanting him so badly you can barely sit still, and it ends with you tearing off his clothes and him laughing into your mouth as you guide him inside you.

After, you’re contrite, kissing along his collarbone.

“I don’t want you to find anyone else for me.”

Baekhyun makes a sound in the back of his throat and you don’t know if it’s surprise or something else.

“I don’t want anyone but you,” you continue, orgasm drunk and with this fire burning under your skin, remembering how Angelica felt, how Yui felt, moving closer to him on the bed because you can’t bear to have your skin not touching his in every place you can.

He pulls you on top of him, kissing you after you squeal in surprise and your lips feel swollen and bruised already but it’s the sweetest ache.

“I don’t think I could, even if you asked,” he admits, and something about the way he says it makes you proud, makes your heart swell. His hands skate over your upper arms and his touch gives you goosebumps.

“No?” You shift to spread your thighs, liking the way he hardens under you with just the barest movement.

Baekhyun shakes his head, his tongue coming out slowly to lick his lips. You see that you’ve bitten his bottom lip bloody and it sends a shot of heat through you.

“Usually I never found anyone else for you, not after I’d touched you. I started out meaning to find someone for you. Touching you first… having you first… it makes things complicated.”

You don’t speak but shift again and it seems to spur him on.

His face is flushed and it’s cute, makes you smile.

“You know why.”

“Do I?” You’re grinning now, like the cat that ate the canary, and he groans but he’s smiling.

He sits up suddenly, bracing himself against the headboard and he puts his hands on your hips to move you backwards so that his half hard erection sits right at the cleft of your cunt and when you gasp and try to guide him inside you, he tightens his hands with a slight shake of his head.

“You gonna make me say it?”

“You know I am.”

You gasp when he puts pressure on your clit with his thumb, humming in the back of his throat.

“I’ve loved you for centuries, and I’ll love you for centuries more, stellina.”

“What does that mean?” You gasp, your insides on fire with lust and love and full to bursting, rocking your hips forward and he gives you what you want, puts more pressure on your clit and lets you guide his cock inside you.

“Star,” he says softly, moving a hand up to cup your cheek. “Because you burn.”

You do burn, you burn inside and out and you want to tell him that you burn for him but he sticks his thumb in your mouth, presses down on your tongue just how you like and all you can do is moan around it.

He keeps his other thumb positioned just right so that you can rock against his hand and lift your ass so that his cock slides against your g-spot and you suck on his thumb until he hisses and bucks beneath you, moving so that you can lean down and kiss him hard, brace your hands on either side of him so that you can get more traction.

You’re sure that you’ll be sore in the morning, ever since you’ve met him (in this lifetime, at least) you’ve been in some type of bittersweet pain, an ache across your throat, soreness in your thighs and hips and ass where you’ve been riding him, a rawness deep inside from too much sex and not enough rest.

There’s never enough, never enough of your sweat misted skin sliding across his, never enough of his hand fisted in your hair, of his cock at the back of your throat, of his fingers hooked inside you. The past couple of weeks you’ve only left his apartment for work and a few changes of clothes (not that you wore them much, anyway).

It makes you feel more sane, knowing that you’ve wanted him this way in other lifetimes, makes you feel like the way you feel makes more sense, because you were beginning to think you were going crazy.

It isn’t as if he’s some kind of sex god, exactly, he just seems to know exactly what you like, exactly what you want, right away. That makes a kind of sense, now, how even when you’re on top he knows exactly what to do and say to get you to tip over the edge.

“I love the way you look like this,” he rasps, looking up at you as if maybe you are a star exploding and it isn’t just some nickname he gave you in Rome. “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You cry out his name, throwing your head back when you cum and he palms his hands across your breasts and the stimulation across your nipples sends an aftershock through you right after. You’re like a ragdoll for a few moments after your orgasm and he shifts you around just like one, using you to get off and you kiss and kiss and kiss him, loving the way it feels when he spills inside you.

You say it then, maybe because he said it to you first or maybe just because your heart is full to bursting with it.

“I love you.” It’s almost defiant. “I love you, and I don’t want to love anyone else.”

He strokes your cheek where you’re still lying on top of him.

“I don’t know if we get a choice, stellina.”

There’s always questions when you find out, and Baekhyun is prepared for them. There’s often questions that hurt, somewhere deep in his bones, questions you’d asked over and over again.

Sometimes you’re curious about your other perfect matches, and that stings. Sometimes you want to know about your deaths, and those are hard memories to bring to the surface.

The question that always hurts the most, though, is the one you ask after you’ve both showered, lying sated and exhausted in his bed, the curtains blacking out the sun outside.

“Did we ever have children?”

You’re rubbing your stomach and there’s something caught in his throat and he has to cough to clear it.

“We didn’t. You did. Sometimes.”

You look up at him and frown. “With my true match?”

Baekhyun heaves a sigh so deep it hurts his chest. “With him, yes.”

You pause. “Was it the same guy? Same… soul, I guess?”

Baekhyun nods slowly, his heart sinking, but you don’t ask anything more, you just lie your head on his shoulder.

He wonders what you’re thinking, wonders where it branches off from here. He’s been here so many times before. He feels more tired than he should.

But instead of asking more questions or storming out crying or any of the things you’d done after you’d found out, you start to snore softly, curled up next to him.

Baekhyun wonders idly if he’ll be able to sleep, but he’s drifting off before he’s even completed the thought.

When he wakes, you’re gone, and he scrambles out of bed in his boxers to pace around the house. He can feel you aren’t around and it’s like a hole in his chest. It’s always been that way, he knows when you’re close and when you’re not, and you must be miles away because now, there’s nothing.

When he checks his phone you’ve texted that you’ll be back with food. He’s shocked that it’s nearly noon, it hadn’t even been sunset when he’d dozed off.

Perhaps immortals can be just as bone tired as mortals, sometimes. After a dozen lifetimes of fighting, he doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

He waits for you, sitting on the couch and idly flipping through the channels, and he thinks about when it all ends. His father had moved on, had no one worshipping his name anymore, and it isn’t as if school children are learning much about Eros, Cupid relegated to only one day out of a year with awful sour sweet candy and paper mache hearts. He’s stored his bow a few hundred miles away, hoping that this lifetime he wouldn’t need it, hadn’t actually found a true match for anyone but you in centuries.

Baekhyun wonders, with no real sense of urgency or fear, if this is the last lifetime. There’s a kind of exhaustion he’s never felt before that seems to weigh him down, and he’s finding it hard to care about anything but you. He hopes it happens before you pass, before the curse ends your life too young and too violently. He wants to move on and set you free, because he knows he can’t resist you for more than a couple of lifetimes. He’s tried too many times and failed.

You return bright eyed and with half a dozen books and a notebook, a pen pinched between your teeth.

At your urging he goes out to the car and brings in the breakfast you’d bought and you spread your books across the table.

“Greek and Roman Mythology for Dummies.” He reads aloud, laughing, and you look up at him from the floor and frown.

“Don’t judge me, this is all new to me.”

He holds up his hands. “Not judging. What’s all this for?”

“I’m going to find a way to end the curse, of course.”

Baekhyun sits down hard on the couch. “Oh.”

“What does that mean?” You demand, your nose scrunching up just a little.

He can’t help but smile at you, and he shrugs.

No reason to shoot down your hopes. Not yet, at least.

Four hours later, your eyes red rimmed from staring at books and your laptop screen, you jump onto the couch and into his lap.

“I found it!” You screech, and kiss all over his face.

Baekhyun smiles, kisses you back, and you make love there on the couch. You want to be bent over, his hand on the small of your back to keep you over the couch arm, up on your tiptoes and making a little grunting noise every time he thrusts into you.

Baekhyun may be exhausted after all this time but he never gets tired of this. He never gets tired of you.

Your moans are muffled in the couch cushions but he hears his name, the one he always uses with you, ever since you were Angelica and that hunter’s arrow had pinned you to the ground.

Baekhyun is tired. He’s tired in a way he’s sure no human ever could be. He’s tired of all the times he’s lost you, to your true match and then worse, to death, and he’s tired of living them over and over again.

But when you stand up, twist his face to kiss him, your eyes bright when you grin against his mouth, he thinks that it’s all been worth it.

You’re always worth it, and the thought of getting to meet you again, another you, is all it takes for him to keep going.

It takes a few months to get the time off work, match up travel plans, and get supplies.

Supplies meaning mostly travel gear and light clothes and a passport, the place you need to get to is high up on a cliffside in Northern Greece.

Baekhyun’s supportive enough, you guess, but you feel a bit nervous about his lack of excitement when you’re finally there, in Greece, at a gorgeous resort near the cliffside. Money hadn’t been a problem. Apparently when you’re immortal you manage to accrue a bit of savings.

“Aren’t you happy? Doesn’t this feel like home?”

Baekhyun laughs, loud and open, for what seems like the first time since you’d found out.

“This isn’t my home, stellina. I’m older than Greece.’

You blink, shocked. “But you are Eros.”

He nods. “I’m Eros, and Cupid, and Ishtar, and Kuni. Many gods and goddesses, different names. My duty and purpose was always the same, but I’ve never had a home. Except with you.”

He brushes your cheek with his nose and you sigh, hate that the way he says that so simply, as if it’s the whole truth, makes your heart clench.

“Still, you remember being here.”

Baekyun nods, staring out at the sea, reliving some life you only half remember.

You don’t ask many more questions, at least not until the next day when Baekhyun is listlessly pulling on his clothes and you’re tugging at his hands, excited, wanting to hurry and have this curse looming over your head end, so that you can stop thinking about it.

“Why aren’t you happier about this?” You pout, but you quiet when he looks up at you, his usually warm brown eyes dull and exhausted.

“You haven’t been sleeping?” You ask, softer now.

Baekhyun shrugs. “Some.”

Then he grins at you and there’s a flicker of life in his eyes. “I’m a very old man, you know. I need my rest.”

It makes you laugh, makes you forget, and you don’t think of it again until you’re hiking up the trail, about an hour’s long journey to reach the top.

He’s behind you by a few hundred feet and you frown at him, waiting until he reaches you. You’ve never seen him out of breath.

You take his hand, tug him further up the trail but it’s only a few moments before he stops, bracing himself on a tree near the trail.

“Stop,” he wheezes, and you do, tilting your head at him in confusion.

“Baekhyun, we have to-”

“Just stop,” He insists, and you’d think he was angry if his voice weren’t shaking.

“Why? What’s wrong? What aren’t you telling me?” You fire off at him, moving closer, and he shakes his head.

You take his chin in your hand and force him to look at you.

His brown eyes are still as tired as earlier, and wet now, too.

“I don’t want to do this again,” he manages hoarsely.

You take a step back. “Have we done this before? Have we been here before?”

Baekhyun doesn’t answer, but there’s a truth in his silence.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “So what? Maybe this time it’ll work, maybe this is different-”

“It’s not different. In France you were called Jacqueline and we came here. You read books about it, forced me here just like you did this time. You were so certain it had worked.”

You shake your head but he keeps talking.

“You were so certain that after a couple of months, I was certain too. Three months later, there was a bus accident.” His voice breaks and he’s quiet again and you feel like you can’t breathe properly for the ache in your throat.

“We don’t know that will happen again.”

“I know!” He bursts out. “I know it will happen because it does, over and over again! Listen, we should go back to the hotel. I can get my bow out of storage and-”

“No!” You cry, stalking over to him. “No, that’s not the way to fix this.”

Baekhyun laughs bitterly, and he won’t look at you. “There’s no way to fix this.”

“You don’t know that,” you say stubbornly. “Whoever I’ve been in the past, I’ve never been this person, and I know I can fix it.”

He pushes himself away from the tree as if it takes effort to do it. “You always say that,” he says, and he doesn’t sound angry anymore, just tired.

You’re angry, heat rushing through your veins, and you don’t know if it’s at him or the fact that some ancient curse has decided to come through your life like a brushfire.

You push at him and he doesn’t fight back, doesn’t even keep you from pushing him against the tree.

“You don’t care, is that it? You’re what, bored of this? You want to get your bow so you can get rid of me?”

His jaw tightens and he looks away from you. “Maybe I do.”

You push him again and he has nowhere to go, backed up against the tree so he just takes it, stands there.

“Coward.” You spit. “You’d rather match me with someone else. You’d rather let someone else-”

“Stop it,” he says, something like a warning in his voice and you want to laugh or cry or both.

“Look at you. You can’t even hear me say it, but you’re going to marry me off like some 14th century child bride-”

“I’m not-” Baekhyun huffs, then stops, runs his hand through his hair. “He’s your true match. You… you always love him, when you meet him.” He struggles with the last sentence but he maintains eye contact, jaw working.

“Fuck my true match. And fuck you if that’s your answer to this.” You rage.

He doesn’t speak. “You’re always happy when you find him.” His voice is weak and it sounds like a weak excuse to your ears and you’re shaking with anger and fear.

You have this memory, sudden and sharp like a knife.

You're in this stone room, an inn you think, and you're half asleep but you can hear a low murmur from the room. It's familiar, from your traveling companion of the last few weeks.

His name is on your lips as you sit up but he's pacing around the room, not paying any attention to you. The way he's talking to himself makes you worried.

"You have to do this. You have to, you know you do," he mutters and there's something liquid in his voice.

Suddenly he slaps himself across the face and you yelp his name, stand up to take his wrist in your hand.

"Baekhyun," you whisper. "What are you doing?"

His face is flushed and his eyes look so tired, so worn, like he's lived a thousand years.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he manages, pulling away from your touch as if you'd burn him.

A few days later, his hands are shaking when he draws his bow, and your eyes are on him instead of your true match.

"Wh-what if you miss?" You whisper.

Baekhyun smiles but he won't look at you. "I don't miss."

He doesn't, but part of you wishes he had.

The memory just makes you angrier, makes you want to push him again.

“Am I? And what about you? What about you, Baek, are you happy without me? Are you happy giving me away?”

He scoffs, finally looking at you.

“No, really. Tell me. You must be happy giving me away because you want to do it so badly-”

“I hate it!” He bursts out. “I fucking hate it, every single time. I hate the way you look at him. I even hate how happy he makes you. I should be happy giving you away so that you can be safe, so that you can have the family that you want, but I fucking hate it.”

“Why do you hate it?” You demand to know, tears streaming down your face.

“You know-” he starts and you shake your head.

“I need you to tell me.”

Baekhyun puffs out his cheeks, he does that when he’s frustrated, when he wants to scream but you don’t have time to think about how cute it is right now.

“I hate it because I love you. I hate it because whoever your true match is, you’re mine.” He says, finally, heaving in a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

“Because I’m yours,” you parrot back at him, and his mouth opens, brows furrowed in a frown.

He takes a step toward you, now, but you don’t back away, and you don’t flinch when he takes your hips in his hands, tugs you toward him, claiming your mouth.

You claw at him, can’t help yourself and you don’t care that brambles are scratching your legs when he lies you down on the ground, don’t care because he’s panting your name into your ear, your name, not all those previous yous. You don’t care because you’ve chosen him, despite whatever the gods had determined to be your “true match.”

“We have to do this,” you tell him as you’re adjusting your clothes and he’s still lying there, panting.

He nods, as if humoring you, but he isn’t as listless when he starts back up the trail with you, keeping up with you and stealing kisses and making small talk.

You’re sweating by the time the two of you reach the top of the mountain, and when you look back, Baekhyun has fallen behind a bit, struggling up the hill.

You startle when thunder cracks overhead, sudden and close, but you walk back down the path to him, put your hand on his arm and he’s trembling.

“We’ve never made it this far,” he says, voice hoarse. “I don’t know what will happen next.”

“We don’t ever know what happens next, Baekhyun, but you know what happens when we don’t.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “Not if you let me get my arrows, we can stop all of this, we can-”

“No!” You yell. “No, shut up about that, I can make my own choices!”

You tug on his arm and he stumbles forward only a few steps before stopping again and you can see the circle of stones at the top of the hill, where you’re supposed to stand according to the legends, and you haven’t done weeks of research and travelled across the world for nothing.

You take his hand in yours, squeeze, and look into his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you promise, and you have no idea what’s about to happen and it’s raining now, cold against your skin, but you know that you have to do this.

Baekhyun looks at you and there’s nothing in his eyes but fear and uncertainty but you tug at his hand again anyway and this time he follows without resistance.

It happens so quickly after that.

You step into the circle first, and he pauses, hesitating before breaking the barrier by stepping over one of the irregular stones. The second he does, lightning cracks above your head and you cry out, frightened.

Baekhyun grabs you out of instinct or some desire to protect you and you go down, scraping your elbows against the rock and sand as you try to catch yourself. Baekhyun puts his hands on either side of your head and it’s raining so hard that it’s all you can hear, that and the thunder, and there’s lightning everywhere, lighting up his features as he looks down at you.

“I was never strong enough to do this before,” he says, nearly yelling over the storm. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t-”

He’s cut off by another crack of lightning and he seems to be… lighting up, somehow, some glow that you think is from the lightning but then you see it’s coming from inside him. He arches his back, his face lined with pain and you realize something’s happening, something bad but when you reach up to touch him, he’s giving off so much heat that the tips of your fingers burn.

“Baek,” you whisper, and he manages to focus on you again. When he does, his face… it isn’t his face, but somehow you recognize it anyway and it keeps changing, cycling through all the lifetimes you’ve shared together.

“I’ve been so many things,” he says, and his voice is strong even over the chaos. “but I’ve always been yours.”

He manages to touch his forehead to yours and you’re terrified by the storm and what’s happening and especially how it seems to pain him to even move, how he’s glowing brighter and brighter until your eyes start watering.

He says your name but it’s your name and Jacqueline and Eva and Yui and so many others, all wrapped into one, and kisses you, the bright light coming from him forcing your eyes shut as he gets closer.

When you open them, there’s no sound of the rain or thunder and the ground under you is dry, as if you’d imagined it all.

But you can taste the rainwater in your mouth. You can still taste him there, too, but he’s gone.

You scramble up, yelling out his name and there’s nothing, just the sound of the birds in the trees. Moments before, the sky had been black, but now it’s sunny again.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the tears running down your throat as you stumble down the path.

You’re sobbing by the bottom of the path because there’s nothing, no evidence he was even there at all. You’re remembering what he said, how he said you’d never been that far before, but you’re wondering if he’d known, anyway.

You’re wondering if breaking the curse means that he has to die and how all of this is your fault your fault your fault.

There’s a sound in the woods and you barely realize it until there’s a man standing next to you.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

You sniffle, looking up at him, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s Baekhyun, just the same, wearing the wet and sandy clothes he’d been wearing just a few moments ago, but something’s wrong and you can’t rush to him like you want to.

“Baekhyun?”

He rubs the back of his neck, smiles a little sheepishly. “Is that my name? I seem to have forgotten it. I think… I think I got lost.”

You think about how this feels, how there’s not a single light of recognition in his eyes and it feels like your chest has cracked wide open. You think about how he must have felt this, over and over again, and understand why he didn’t want you to have to feel it.

You take a deep, shaky breath and wipe at your eyes with the heels of your hands.

“You’re not lost,” you tell him, and take his hand.

Baekhyun looks down at your hand in his and then back up to you, a smile breaking across his face. “No, doesn’t seem like it anymore.”

You’re trying not to cry as you lead him back to the resort when he stops and you turn back to look at him.

“I know this might seem like an odd question, but… have we met before?”

It hurts but you crack a smile anyway, remembering how he’d done this for you over and over, remembering what he’d said to you a few months ago.

“Maybe in another life.”

#supermnet #noonasinnetwork #byun baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x reader #super m imagine #exo imagone #baekhyun imagine

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tarithenurse · 3 years

Text

In the eyes

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader Content: Feels. Angst. Loss. Love. Reference to killing (war and murder). Captivity. Sorrow. Hope. Anger. You name it, it’s there. A/N: I just want to say in my defence that this story isn’t my fault. Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns...it’s her birthday present (yes, I’m late)!

In the eyes

The steam is long gone together with your interest in the drink when you drain the cup of tea as the black-haired man gets up to leave. The cape hides what he’s missing – if only it was his leg instead – that way you wouldn’t have to keep the distance to the bare minimum, constantly risking him discovering that you’re following him. It doesn’t help to complain, though: he’s alive and mobile...and you have to watch your every move.

Volunteering for the assignment has probably been one of the more masochistic choices you’ve made, but you just couldn’t let the last Uchiha go yet.

For years, watching the kid grow older had kept a wound alive that no one knew about. It festered, saturating you with a sickening, rotten, sadness that never washed off but wasn’t detected by your peers. You should have let it heal. Should have moved on. But there had always been something keeping you from accepting what everyone else had decided must be true.

You weren’t the only one dealing with grief, of course. The life of a Leaf ninja was to say goodbye too soon and then to live with the numbing ache, renewed each time memories stirred.

Before the fourth war, the newfangled gossip of the dead returning was treated as ghost stories by most people until the climax of it all, when too many stood face to face with loved ones. Lost ones. And you were too weak to prevent the hope from being rekindled, so once peace was a reality and all the shinobis prepared to celebrate in the chaotic haze of the aftermath, you made a decision.

That is why, three seconds after the door closes behind Uchiha Sasuke, you get up...

...and sit right down again to avoid pressing against the sharp blade of the person suddenly appearing beside you.

The newcomer’s face is hidden partially under the wide-rimmed hat and the rest behind a dark and tattered cloak. Glancing down, a hand with purple-painted nails slips the kunai into the darkness of the cloak, leaving you with the knowledge that it’s there.

There’s no doubt in your mind that this is a shinobi. Where did you come from? Admittedly, there are others frequenting the little tea house because it’s a popular stop at a major crossroads...even if it mainly services those without national affiliations. None of the rest of the clientele reacts to the scene unfolding discreetly and you have no wish to catch their attention before you know what and who you’re dealing with.

“What do you want?”

It takes a second before you realize the question isn’t asked by you. Another one to recover from the smooth dusk that is the stranger’s voice. A voice with a hint of familiarity in the timbre which you decide must be your mind playing games.

“Nothing. I’m no enemy of yours,” you try to placate them, silently counting the seconds worth of head start separating you from Sasuke, “and I hold nothing of value...you should let me go.”

The tickle of a laugh surprises you. “If I’d wanted your possessions, they’d already be mine. I want answers, Konoha-girl.”

The headband you carry is hidden under your clothes, well out of sight from any prying eyes. Finally giving up on stalking your initial target, you turn your undivided attention to the person who has seated them-self before you.

The little skin you can see is pale, and a few black strands have escaped the slack ponytail and fallen in front of the face where only chin and jawline is visible. As if knowing your annoyance, the head is tipped slightly, allowing you to glimpse soft, gently smiling lips. Kissable. The thought jars you.

“I recommend you give up that wish.” No one should be able to hear the nervousness in your voice...but the stranger smirks. “My business is my own.”

“Not when it involves him,” they says, inclining the hat towards the door where Uchiha left.

You’re out to get him? You almost feel sorry for this fool who clearly doesn’t have a clue about the one-armed ninja’s identity.

“Don’t be mistaken,” the person smiles as if reading your thoughts, “I know who he is and what he’s capable of, after all...he’s my brother.”

Calmly meeting your gaze, the eyes meeting you flash red.

...

“Don’t look an Uchiha in the eyes”. It was the warning that was whispered into your ears as soon as you were big enough to run errands on your own. Naturally, you had to do it, and what met you was not as demonic as the warning stories had made you think – rather, they were kind, and wiser than the smooth face hinted at – although you never looked another Uchiha in the eyes just to be on the safe side.

It was impossible to discern the colour. Some days, they seemed leaden as if the rain clouds were gathered inside the boy too. A few times, in the morning when he watched where his fists struck the wood, the sparks from the cozy fire of the evening before still lingered in the warmest of black. What you loved the most, though, was when the gaze was locked onto infinity and they were soft like liquid.

...

Everything is different: the stuffy tea room with its noisy patrons has been replaced by somewhere deserted that seems to be carved out of grey stone.

How did I get here? Careful to move as little as possible, you take in the new surroundings only to find the place empty and with only one way in and out. A dull cold has already seeped into your feet as you stand there, lost as your bearings have nothing to latch on to – the only light is a torch in a wall sconce to your left.

Feet. They are bare, and a quick pat-down reveals that all of your weapons, your belt, and your headband have been stripped from you too. The sensation is uncanny, akin to nakedness. The logic behind it is obvious as it reduces the chances of a successful escape even if you were to make it out and establish a route.

On the other hand: you’re unharmed and unbound.

Turning, you have no doubt that the wooden door is locked but of course you go over to try, heart frozen near your throat when you push against it with your shoulder. Surprisingly, it does open and the screaming hinges sets the tiniest hairs on your body on end.

“Not wasting any time, Konoha-girl.”

You recognize the voice and the decorated nails on the hand that appears to pull open the door completely, and not just from the rest stop but from years of aching recollections that have been warped by watching Sasuke grow up with this man’s shadow lingering over his life. Over your life.

No. There’s no way. He died. Now your heart jackhammers a frenzied rhythm.

It’s a fool’s hope that powers the jab towards his neck. An idiot’s dream urging you to sprint past him. At least I tried, a bitter thought comments the moment both attempts are thwarted as a rib-crushing kick sends your tumbling backwards and you land sprawled in the middle of the room.

The ceiling is still spinning, it seems, when you sense the man’s presence loom over you. The fingers are cool (and surprisingly gentle) as the curl around the back of your skull, fingers digging into your hair to grant a tight grip to pull you closer by. Very close. A hand’s length separates the tips of your noses and you want to be oblivious to the way his mouth curves softly.

“You’re not leaving,” he whispers, “until I say so.”

Feeling and strength are beginning to return to your arms, including a sharp ache in your chest that grows with every shallow breath which you try to ignore. Should have restrained me, fool...and the thought dies there as everything shifts and the ground swallows your limbs.

“N-no...how...? No!”

He watches your struggles lazily before releasing his grip and sitting down next to you on the hard floor. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But you did. Wait...no! You haven’t...it wasn’t you...it can’t have been...

“You lie about your identity,” you scoff, regretting the outburst immediately as pain stabs coldly into your side, “so excuse me for not trusting you on this either.” There is a little smile there on his lips, full of sadness and regret that makes your insides cringe momentarily until you have the breath to explain to him (or yourself) why it can’t be true: “Uchiha Itachi has been killed!”

“Yes...and then I was brought back.” He’s impossibly calm as though he’s simply discussing the weather. “Twice.”

Double reanimated? As if! The war had been a horror to live through and would have been without people facing their deceased comrades and family members on the battlefield. However, once destroyed or sealed, none of the animated dead had walked again and all of them had been dealt with properly in the end.

Looking at the ninja, none of the signs of reanimation are prominent. On the other hand...even if they had been, you might not even notice it now that you meet the man’s gaze and the liquid infinity there.

“I could show you...but I’m afraid your mind can’t take the strain in your current state,” the so-called Itachi explains.

Mind, your aching heart still reels from fear of being broken once more, this is all in my mind.

Zoning out everything else, you focus on the flow of chakra within. Calming it, soothing it, until abruptly forcing the flow to revert. It feels as if your very soul drops for a second but the moment it returns to its place, the world is no longer made up of lies and imaginary sensations...and you’re still lying on the ground in a room made of stone, your ribs feeling as if they’re speared by frost. The only improvement is that at least your limbs are free.

And Itachi? Yes, you have to call him that because deep within you can’t deny it any longer.

The official reports hadn’t been released by the time you left Konoha and you’re not high enough up in the ranks as a shinobi to get the juicy information unless it’s necessary for a mission – and since your missions tend to be B or simpler A rank...well, I guess my current mission’s a bust but this is an important discovery!

A silky chuckle refocuses your attention. “Very good...I suppose I must strengthen my genjutsu against you.”

He’s so close, you could touch him. Shifting to lean against the wall, he rests his arms casually on the knees and begins to pick at the chapping nail polish.

“No need to,” you bite back a groan as you roll over to sit up, “I take it that’s how you got me here?” Pretty eyes are watching your every move as he nods in agreement. “Hm. It’ll probably be useless to ask where we are, so...why? Why show yourself now?”

Sitting cross legged, you find the pain lessens if you pull your clothes and arms tightly around your torso, restricting the depth of your breathing. Broken or bent ribs? Not that it really matters. First of all, he would be able to beat you in a fight anyways; secondly, even if you got out of here you wouldn’t know where “here” is; and third (but not least), you don’t really want to run from him.

Rather than answer, Itachi stands up and holds out his left hand for you. Puzzled, you take it. Soft fingers curl around yours and he pulls you to your feet, studying your movements and the twisting facial expressions.

He doesn’t let go.

Not when he guides you out the door and into a hallway shaped of the same kind of stone as the room was made of. Carved from.

Not when he slows down at the sound of the squeaky breathing the pace forces from you.

There doesn’t seem to be many rooms along the winding path. Here and there a door bars the way or you catch a glimpse of a dead-end that looks as though the excavation was abandoned or even disrupted by cave-ins.

You do your best to memorize the path, but frankly, your mind is getting fuzzy from pain and exhaustion. You have no sense of time, just hunger and tiredness weighing you down to indicate the loss of many hours.

“Just a bit longer, [Y/N],” Itachi soothes.

When did I tell him my name? You want to ask or at least protest, but it would be a choice between talking or getting to wherever he’s leading you...and you doubt he’ll let you pause.

A few dozen steps later and a short flight of stairs up, he ushers you through a door into a room that looks like a mix between a kitchen and work station. A fire is the only light and heat source (the smoke venting up through a chimney too narrow to be an escape route), casting a warm glow over the solid wooden table and chairs. Everything else is hewn from whatever mountain you’re inside.

“Sit,” your captor finally releases the grip and points at a chair near the fire and you obediently do as you’re told.

There are shelves and niches almost hidden in the dancing shadows at first holding with boxes, bundles, and various utensils. He knows where everything is, grabbing a few items before returning and laying it out in the light. Bandages. His movements are fluid and elegant, just like you remembered.

He motions towards your upper body, then turns to tend to the fire. “Strip.”

“That’s really not -”

“Some of your ribs are broken. Restraining them will minimize the pain.”

He’s right. Of course he is.

With clipped movements, you pull off the layers until you hesitate at the poor excuse of a bra. Despite the now roaring fire, the cold from the stone still seeps into your body and raises waves of goosebumps and tightens your nipples. It would be easier to apply the bandages correctly without the last bit of clothing in the way, but right now it feels like the only shield left at your disposal as Itachi turns back to you.

“We’ll work around that,” the man offers softly.

He works quietly at first. Hands winding the linen bandages around you adeptly, pausing each time the ministration intensifies the pain and causes the discomfort to escape as stubborn hisses. The purple nail polish is mesmerizing – simultaneously a contrast to the horrific stories of a killer and perfectly fitting the pretty, nearly feminine, traits you see. Especially the eyes. Sure, they’re filled with a bottomless sadness that you don’t feel comfortable acknowledging, but they’re beautiful. Haunting.

“You’re staring,” he hums without looking up.

Shit. “No. I just -...let’s say you’re who you claim to be,” you try to recover, “why’re you back?”

“To be his watcher.”

“Says who?”

This time, he stops and looks you dead in the eyes. “Otsutsuki Hagoromo, the Sage of Six Paths.” There are very few proper comebacks to that, so your captor continues without giving you a chance to think of something, “Otsutsuki told me about the bonds of families and that it can transcend blood. He knows hatred can cause – and has caused – too much harm...but something rekindled his hope that it can be overcome.“

I don’t have an eye on Uchiha constantly, but... “Does Sasuke know?” Returning to his work, Itachi avoids your gaze. “He doesn’t...”

“He’s finally found peace and is on the right path...I can’t risk undoing it.”

Bullshit! “Or you’re a coward who doesn’t have the guts to fa-” the rest is cut off as soft fingers tighten around your throat.

Blood-red eyes pierce your mind, numbing you for an eternity or a millisecond.

...

They were a means to reach the goal but their words still hurt as you followed meekly in their footsteps. Snobbery. Disdain. Considering how proud your two team members clearly felt, they had very little to show for their reputation as Uchihas and frankly, it was your skills rather than theirs that ensured successful missions and still, you never once looked them in their face. Instead, you kept an eye out for two other of the clan.

Where one was, so would the other be. Thick as thieves, the boys had found a companionship that complemented their differences in the same manner as the sun and the moon. But as opposed to your teammates who swooned at the brightness of the sun, you were drawn to the night and the calmness it brought whenever that boy was near – each time he met your eyes, time became meaningless.

...

The two of you sit in silence as the steam from the soup caresses your face. Your mind is blank, slowly starting to pick up on the absence of stone walls – wood has replaced the cold surfaces, making it almost unbearably warm with the bandages underneath your layers of clothes – and a plethora of questions begin to press against your conscious only to be held back as most of your thoughts get derailed whenever you look at the man before you.

Without the hat and cloak to conceal him, it’s impossible to ignore all the details you’ve nurtured in your memory for ages, such as the slight pull of his lips as he thinks or the elegance of his movements now that he gets up and refills his bowl from the pot hanging over the fire.

“Why are you following Sasuke?”

You should be diplomatic. “I could ask you the same.” You’re not.

“I already told you,” Itachi shrugs.

“Well I...I don’t believe you.”

But you do. There’s no denying anymore that this man is who he claims to be and so, why would he lie about his purpose? The sad smile. The quiet mannerisms. The idea that Itachi would somehow transcend death to watch over his little brother? That’s a mysterious intricacy that fits with your memories of him from before that night.

“You do...but something else is bothering you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Am I not what you expected?”

No, you’re not. However, he’s what you remember with a layer of sorrow added on top. He doesn’t get to be sad. The little spark of anger is what you need. You nurse it, feed it until it flares up hot and bright and consumes your regrets and self-pity.

“Expected? I don’t know what I expected from someone like you!” Your voice is rising, shaking with years of frustration. “Clan killer. Murderer. I never told anyone but I was in love with an Uchiha! That night, I’d gone to bed, finally sure that I was gonna tell him but when I woke up...” Something inside you had broken that day and it still hurts now. “They told me how you’d left Sasuke alive...but the boy I loved was gone and no one knew I was mourning. Each time I saw him -” you can’t hold back a strangled sound and you realize, you’re crying -”I saw the ghost of...” The bowl of floating vegetables looks blurry until you blink angrily. “Ugh! But what does a teenager know of love, right? They’ll grow up. Get over it. Except I knew you were out there still and that you had all the answers. Why? The Itachi I remember wasn’t a mindless monster! I was told a story, but it doesn’t make any sense. If all the monster wanted was power then why spare Sasuke? Why did everyone else have to die?”

The inhalations are shallow and rapid, making you dizzy as you cling to the table and the spoon. It burns in your lungs and cheeks.

“I am sorry for the pain, I’ve caused you.”

Your gaze snaps to his face and you know he’s speaking the truth but it doesn’t matter right now.

“Sorry? Sorry?! You don’t get to be sorry! I missed y-...the boy, I loved was gone and it took ages before I could let go and stop mourning, finally accepting the truth had died with you and now...now you’re here? And it’s all back and I don’t understand! How could you?” Itachi doesn’t flinch as you launch the bowl towards him – he doesn’t have to because your aim is off and it clatters to the floor in a shower of shards and wasted food after hitting the wall behind him. “How? The boy I loved was not a monster! He wouldn’t do what they s-”

The echoes of your wheezing shouts ring through the room after the abrupt stop. Holding your breath, you wait for the ground to swallow you whole or for the man at the other end of the table to react and the fear is colder than the burning in your chest.

“Things aren’t always what they seem,” Itachi eventually whispers, “they were just people who had been wronged and misguided until their arrogance made them blind.”

What? That’s not exactly what you had expected. Without explaining further, your captor gets up, handing you his bowl of food before beginning to clean the mess you’ve made.

“Don’t...I’ll get tha-” you begin.

He only has to look at you.

...

The dew had soaked your toes, cooling and soothing them after each kick that you landed on the wood stump. Pine. The new splinters refreshed the scent as they fell to the ground and you knew that birds would rummage through them in the hope of finding a morning snack once the training grounds were free of people again – they were already gathering at the edge of the clearing except for where Itachi stood.

The realization made you stop mid-kick, gaze locked with his and heart fluttering in your chest. How long had he stood there?

“They’re wrong.” You could barely believe he was talking to you. “Your teammates...don’t listen to what they say.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Itachi was gone and maybe it had all been your imagination running free.

...

Sitting up abruptly, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to get used to the low light of the dying embers. Where am I?

Salt and drying seaweed is heavy in the air, somehow worming its way into what appears to be yet another room of stone. No...it’s a cave. You’re sitting on a bedroll splayed out onto the sand filling the place and you have no memory of arriving.

The dark form on the other side of the fire pit makes no move as you slip a hand underneath your shirt to confirm what you already know: the bandages are gone and there’s only a muted tenderness as you prod at the ribs. How long has it been?

“You’re safe,” Itachi’s gentle voice assures, and you feel your pulse slow despite the ominous situation, “go back to sleep.”

Yes. Sleep...hang on! Shaking your head, you fight the urge to succumb to the fuzziness that weighs your thoughts. “Why’re you doing this?” you mumble.

It doesn’t make sense why the man wouldn’t simply get the answers he want and then dispose of you or at the very least leave you locked up somewhere while he keeps following Sasuke from the shadows. Instead, your captor has put an effort into keeping you comfortable. Feeding you.

“I remember you.” His eyes reflect the red coals as they burn into your soul all over again. “Memories don’t do your justice, though.”

...

There is no world beyond the walls of the garden but a red sheet of sky dotted with storm clouds. The sliding doors have been pushed aside, opening the hallway to the view, and you know the wood beneath your bare feet should be silky from decades of use. You can’t feel it. There are no scents either, no breeze to toy with the soft fabric of your yukata, nor insects clicking from the rhododendron.

“This isn’t real.”

“No,” Itachi confirms from behind you, “but here I can create what you need. Who you need.”

Turning at last, there’s no reason to shy away from meeting his gaze even if it matches the fake sky. He looks real – as opposed to the familiarity of the home of your childhood that surrounds the two of you – and the ghost of a smile kindly tries to hide the sadness.

“...need. For what?”

The black strands falling into his face are strangely dull in the nightmarish light. “Closure.”

“That’s not possible.”

Wanting to leave, to run away and avoid what Itachi intends, you find yourself rooted in place by an invisible force. Even turning your face away is impossible and you pray that he doesn’t understand the well of emotions he must be able to see in your eyes.

“This is a chance for you to say goodbye to the one I killed. The one you...love,” he pauses to scrutinize your expression and you try to remain neutral, “because you do. You still love him.”

“You have no right...” swallowing hard, you fight to keep the words back, “no right t-to claim to know what I need!” Finally, you manage to close your eyes but they snap open again at the touch of his fingertips on your forehead. “This isn’t something you get to fix like -”

...

The world has shifted again and you’re back in the ocean side cave. You can feel how uneven the sand is under your knees and shins even with the bedroll to soften the press and some some the grains have found their way in between your toes...but none of that matters because Itachi is still right before you, his fingers gently resting on your brow.

A pop-and-crackle from the fire pit is the only sound other than your shallow breathing. You know, he knows. Eyes widened in nigh-comedic understanding, it’s as if he sees you for the first time.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N].”

You barely manage to whisper, “for what?”

His fingertips send shivers along your spine as they trace a path, allowing him to cradle the back of your neck in his palm.

“Everything” Itachi’s lips brush your cheek, “for breaking your heart in so many ways and for making you think your love was unrequited.”

#Itachi #Uchiha Itachi #Uchiha Itachi x fem!reader #In the eyes #Itachi x fem!reader #Itachi x you #Itachi x y/n #Itachi Uchiha #post naruto shippuuden #naruto fandom #itachi fanfiction #itachi fanfic #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #naruto #anime #x reader #x fem!reader

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Pretty Boy

Juice Ortiz x OFC (Dakota Lowman)

Combining an Anonymous request and a request from @adela-topaz-caelon: Juice Ortiz x F!Reader, were the reader is Happy’s daughter and her boyfriend is Juice? and Juice x female reader where they're at the clubhouse or somewhere, just chilling to keep reader safe or something, and you get those cheesy moments of catching an eye, or an absentmindedly kiss that causes flusteredness

Warnings: language, alcohol, Juice being a lil cutie pie

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I tweaked each of these requests a little bit, but I hope y’all still enjoy it! I got the Happy’s Daughter request and immediately me and @garbinge started brainstorming OC ideas and we ended up with two daughters for Happy. Clearly we get carried away haha. This is just a fluffy little one-shot and a sort of wamrup/intro to the Lowman Sisters as OCs. We (when I say “we”, I totally mean me and Anj as a unit lmao) have big plans for them in the future and I can’t wait to take y’all along for the ride. In the meantime, enjoy this lil oneshot! xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @kkim120 @everyhowlmarksthedead @toni9 @unicornucopia-fuckers @mayans-sauce @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @paintballkid711 @black-repunzel99 @jitterbugs927 @mrsstevenbuchananstark (If you want to be added to the list feel free to let me know!)

“Out of all the women in the universe,” Juice spoke up with a shake of his head, “I think the last two that need someone to watch their backs are Happy’s daughters, that’s all.”

Jax shook his head, “Everyone has someone watching their back, no exceptions.”

“Yea but they don’t need—”

He cut Juice off, “Club call, not theirs.”

Both of Happy’s daughters were sitting back, watching the entire interaction play out in front of them. It wasn’t something that they’d never gone through before, but they each knew that there was a more tactful way to go about it without making them feel like they were being saddled with babysitters. His youngest thought it was all bullshit, but she wasn’t willing to put up a fight over it. Her older sister, however, didn’t have the same reservations.

“Fuck this,” she stood up off her barstool, “You don’t get to make that call for me, Teller.”

“Hap said—”

“Well Hap isn’t here,” she rolled her eyes as she swiped her keys off the table, “Tell my old man if he wants someone to babysit me, he can do it himself,” she began walking towards the clubhouse door, “just like the good old days.”

“Diedra,” Jax stepped towards her, wrapping his hand around her forearm.

She immediately twisted her arm out of his grasp and used her other hand to shove him backwards, “Do that again and I’ll bust your fucking nose,” she waited a beat to see if any of them were going to try to stop her again, and when they didn’t, she looked over to her sister, “Call me if any of these assholes give you any trouble, alright?”

She nodded, “Alright.”

The clubhouse door slammed behind her, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. Jax glanced over at Juice, who was trying to look anywhere but at his VP and the young woman still perched at the bar. With a heavy sigh, Jax spoke up, “Don’t go two for two on losing the Lowman Sisters, alright? Hap is gonna wring my fucking neck over Di as it is.”

“He won’t,” she shook her head, chuckling slightly, “You think our dad doesn’t know what you’re dealing with?”

“You think that your dad is really gonna care about that when it comes down to it?” Jax retorted. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get his tone in order, “Sorry, Kota. It’s not on you. Just, please stay with Juice, alright? Just until we figure all this shit out.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee and trying to pretend that she didn’t get a little bit of sadistic enjoyment out of Jax’s stress over her father and sister, “Sure, I can handle that.”

He didn’t say anything more before also heading out the door, managing to shut it a little quieter than the woman who had walked out before him. It left just Juice and Dakota by themselves in the clubhouse—everyone else either on club business or safely within the walls of their own homes waiting out the impending chaos.

“How pissed is your dad gonna be about your sister?” Juice asked, a smirk starting to curl the edges of his mouth.

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “He’s not going to actually be pissed. He knows how Di gets about lockdown and shit,” she paused, smiling, “But he is going to make Jax feel like shit about it first.”

Juice chuckled, “Perfect.”

There were a few beats of silence before she spoke up again, “So do I get to know why I need a bodyguard or…?”

“H-happy didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head, “No,” with a huff she rolled her eyes, “he never tells me shit. I don’t, I don’t know why Di gets to know everything and I don’t. I don’t get what’s so different.”

“She is older,” Juice couldn’t pretend to understand the dynamics in the Lowman family but it seemed like an easy justification to offer up.

“By like, four years. That doesn’t mean shit.”

Juice laughed, “You sound a little bitter.”

“Bitter is in our blood, Juan,” she laughed as she finished off her coffee.

The use of his real name caught him off-guard. The two of them hadn’t ever really talked much, just little conversations here and there. He didn’t think that she knew his real name at all, let alone felt comfortable enough with him to use it. Despite the bite in her tone for every other word she spoke, there was a softness when she said it.

“Right,” he tried to keep himself focused, “Well, your sister seems like a girl full of answers so maybe you should ask her about it.”

“Glad I’m at least going to be locked down with a comedian,” she shook her head before getting up and tossing her coffee cup in the garbage, “So, what? You just gonna follow me around while I do things? Keep me company while I get a pedicure?”

He laughed, “I don’t think that you should really be out getting pedicures right now.”

“Well, then could you at least take me back to my place?” she laughed, “Di and I came together and she just stormed off with the keys.”

Juice couldn’t help the laughter that slipped past his lips, “Yea, yea I think I can handle that.”

As the two of them walked across the lot towards Juice’s bike, Dakota became very aware of the fact that the two of them hadn’t ever spent any one-on-one time together. They saw each other in passing at the clubhouse, and a couple times he’d worked on her car in the past, but they didn’t really know each other. She knew of him, the same way he probably knew of her. But they didn’t learn anything about each other, from each other.

In the past when she and her sister needed someone to watch their back because of things going on with the club, it would usually just be Happy, because that made the most sense. And realistically, Diedra had been right when she said that she could handle herself perfectly fine. If the two of them were left to their own devices they’d probably be okay, but it wasn’t a chance that the MC was willing to take. On a rare occasion or two Chibs or Tig kept an eye on them, but those men usually kept their distance.

Juice handed her a spare helmet, a lopsided grin on his face, “Where is your place, anyway?”

“Apartment complex just off Main?” she said as she clipped the helmet on, “Gray Street.”

He nodded, “Got it.”

She settled onto the bike behind him with ease, no stranger to the ins and outs of a ride. It caught Juice off-guard for a moment before he remembered who she was. He looked down to see her well-manicured nails interlocked over his stomach and he didn’t know why but it made him smile. She leaned against him a little, waiting for him to peel out of the compound. He checked with her to make sure she was good before taking off.

As he rolled into the parking lot of the complex, Dakota directed him where to go and park. Diedra’s car was nowhere to be seen. And while it had been made abundantly clear that she was in charge of herself, Juice still felt a little responsible for how everything had played out.

“You two live here together, right?” he asked as he put down the kickstand of his bike.

“Yea,” she unclipped her helmet and tousled her hair, “but she’s probably blowing off steam somewhere. Maybe tracking down our dad,” she laughed.

“Was it weird growing up with Happy as a dad?” the question came out before he could stop it, and regret instantly flooded over his features, “Fuck, sorry. I, I know it’s really not my business.”

She chuckled as she dug her keys out of her purse, “You’re fine. Don’t apologize so much.”

“Sor—” he stopped himself, “Right.”

“But in answer to your question,” they slowly made their way up the stairs to the second floor of the apartment building, “He…he tried. He does the best he can, you know? I think all our parents do,” she put the key in the lock of her door, “Doesn’t mean that their best is always good enough, but it’s all they can do.”

She was about to step inside when Juice put an arm out in front of her to stop her. She chuckled, nodding for him to go in first and scope the place out, even though it was highly unlikely that anyone ended up there looking for her or her sister.

About a minute later she heard Juice’s voice calling for her to come inside. She laughed as she stepped in, locking the door behind her before tossing her purse off to the side and instantly kicking off her shoes. Juice watched her, and as she sauntered her way into the kitchen he really began to question how the two of them never ended up really speaking to each other. He and Diedra had had a handful of conversations, although they weren’t deep or filled with a lot of pleasantries. But he felt like he had a better idea of who she was, than who her little sister was. She was always kind unless provoked, but she kept to herself a lot of the time.

“Smoothie?” she offered as she pulled a half-full blender out of the fridge.

Juice laughed in surprise. Usually when he was at someone’s house they offered beer, or something stronger. He’d never even been offered water before let alone a smoothie. He shook his head, “I’m good for now, thanks.”

She shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

By the time Diedra came back to the apartment, the sun had long since set. Dakota and Juice were camped out at the counter, both of them laughing hard at whatever story Juice had been telling. They heard the sound of the key in the lock and both of them looked over at the door expectantly. Diedra walked inside, kicking off her boots and tossing her keys immediately. She’d seen Juice’s bike parked outside and wasn’t enthused, and when she could hear their laughter from the hallway, she had the feeling that he wasn’t going to be in a rush to get back to the clubhouse or go home.

She looked about as exhausted and frustrated as she felt. She’d gone and tracked down her father, which did nothing to help the current situation. On top of him being upset about how she was handling the whole protection side of things, he was mad that she had gone out on a manhunt to find him, completely defeating the purpose of having someone keeping her safe.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she skipped over the pleasantries and got right to the point, “With the two of us here we should be alright.”

“I, uh, I don’t mind,” Juice didn’t know why he found Diedra to be just as intimidating as her father, but he did, “I can hang out a little longer.”

She shrugged, not looking to argue about it, “Suit yourself,” she looked at her sister, “I’m gonna go shower.”

Dakota gave a wordless nod and watched her sister disappear to the other end of the apartment. She let out a sigh and shook her head—she didn’t know the details of her older sister’s day, but she didn’t have to. Dakota could tell from the moment she walked in that the day hadn’t gone in her favor. She’d try to be there for her if she thought it would get either of them anywhere, but if there was one thing that she’d learned about her sister in all their years growing up together, was that those kinds of things happened on Diedra’s terms, and no one else’s.

“She always this cheery?” Juice asked with tiny smirk, “Or just when I’m around?”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “It has nothing to do with you, personally. It’s…complicated. Honestly, she’s gotta like you on some level because she hasn’t threatened you yet. But either way,” she reached and rested her hand on his for a moment, “I’m glad you’re here.”

The touch was light and momentary but Juice felt it course through his entire body. He cleared his throat, trying to do anything besides stare at his hands, “Well that’s…that’s nice to hear.”

“And not that I’m trying to rush you out, but for the sake of your own self-esteem,” there was a playful smile on her face, “you might wanna just head out and come back in the morning. She’ll be a little cooled off by then.”

He nodded, “Yea, yea okay,” he hopped up and they both made their way towards the door, “Lock it behind me.”

She rolled her eyes, “Yea, I’ve done this before.”

He stood in the hallway for a moment as Dakota leaned against the doorframe, a smile beginning to tug at the edges of her mouth. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he knew better. He shoved his hands into his pockets to fight the urge.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then?” she asked.

He nodded, “I’ll be here bright and early.”

She laughed, “I’ll have coffee ready, then,” she paused, “Goodnight, Juan.”

He smiled, “Goodnight.”

A little while later, when Dakota was already in bed scrolling on her phone, there was a knock on her bedroom door. She turned on the light and called for her sister to come in. When the door opened, Diedra was standing there wrapped in her towel, clothes draped over her arm as she propped herself against the side of the door.

“You all good?”

Dakota propped herself up on her elbows, nodding, “Yea, yea I’m good. You good?”

She shrugged, “I’ll be alright.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Pfft,” her annoyance wasn’t aimed at her sister, “Nothing to say. Same shit,” there was a beat of silence, “Juice stay here with you all day?”

She nodded, “Yea. I know you don’t like him but he seems swe—”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” she let out a small sigh, “the whole situation is just a fuckin’ mess. Plus you and I are adults—we don’t need fucking babysitters.”

Dakota couldn’t do anything besides nod, “I know. I just, I don’t see the point in fighting it if we’re just gonna lose.”

“You’re only fine with it because they saddled you with the pretty boy,” a knowing smirk crossed Diedra’s face for a moment.

Her little sister laughed, “Certainly doesn’t hurt to have something nice to look at in a pseudo-lockdown.”

“Mhm,” she shook her head, “Just don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Never,” she laughed, “Love you.”

“Love you.”

With that she shut the door and made her way off to her own room. Dakota flopped back down onto her pillow with a sigh, trying to get everything in order in her head. All she ever really wanted to do was keep the peace, but it was practically an impossible task at this point so she wondered what the use was in even trying anymore.

True to her word, the next morning there was already a pot of coffee made by the time that Juice got there. Truthfully, she’d just set an alarm specifically for that purpose and then gone right back to bed. That was made evident to him by the fact that she answered the door half-asleep, hair still a bit of a frizzy mess from a night of tossing and turning. She smiled and waved him in but didn’t say much of anything, wordlessly gesturing to the coffee pot to let him know to help himself.

“Not a morning person?” he chuckled.

She shook her head, running her hands down her face, “No, that’s always been Di’s thing. I’m a night owl.”

As if on cue, Diedra came bounding into the apartment, headphones still on and drenched in sweat from her run and workout that morning. She saw Juice standing in the kitchen and offered him a slight nod as she made her way directly to the bathroom to shower. She lightly patted Dakota on the back as she walked by, letting the gesture serve as her greeting for the morning.

“So,” Juice drummed his fingers on the edge of the counter as he watched Dakota pour them each a cup of coffee, “what’s the plan for today?”

She shrugged as she slid it across to him, “You tell me,” she took a sip, “I got some school shit I gotta do, but I can do it here or at the clubhouse if that’s better. I still don’t know what the fuck is going on, so I’m following your lead on this.”

No one had ever said those words in that order to him before. He took a long drink out of his coffee cup to buy himself a few extra seconds to think, “Um, I mean, clubhouse would probably be best. More people around,” his eyes flicked towards the other end of the apartment, “I’m guessing your sister is just gonna…”

“Do whatever she wants to do?” she laughed, nodding, “Sounds about right,” she stretched, taking a deep breath, “Alright. Let me get ready and we can head out.”

“Okay,” he sat down at the counter, “No rush or anything.”

While he was finishing his coffee and waiting for Dakota to get ready, her sister emerged back into the kitchen, no longer in her sweaty workout clothes. She had on a baggy hoodie and a pair of running shorts, hair still down and damp as she opened the fridge to start pulling together her smoothie for the morning.

“Where you two crazy kids off to today?” she asked as she set everything on the counter.

“Just to the clubhouse,” he paused, trying to figure out if she should ask what he was about to ask, “You?”

She glanced back over her shoulder, her expression serious for a moment before she cracked the smallest of smiles, “I’ll be around. Got some shit I gotta handle.”

“Anything I can—”

“All you gotta worry about is my sister and the club, Juice,” her tone was firm, but not mean.

Before he could say anything more, Dakota walked back out into the kitchen. She looked back and forth between her sister and Juice, surprised at the lack of tension in the room. There wasn’t the fear of god in Juice’s eyes the way there had been the night before.

“We’re gonna head out,” she gave Juice a slight nod towards the door before looking back at her sister, “Text me when you get where you’re going?”

She nodded, “Sure thing. Don’t let him wipe out on the bike.”

Dakota laughed as she looked over at Juice, “Well, guess we’re taking the bike.”

Dakota made herself comfortable at one of the tables in the clubhouse. She had her headphones on and her schoolwork spread out across the table in front of her. Between her notebooks and her laptop, there was just enough room for Juice and his computer on the other side of the table. Every now and then she’d look up and catch him staring at her, and she’d offer up a smile before diving back into her work. Juice wanted to ask her about it, wanted just about any reason to listen to her talk, but he stopped himself.

It was late in the afternoon when she finally leaned back in her chair, taking her headphones off with a groan. She ran her hands down her face as she shook her head, trying to get her brain to slow down. Juice looked up at her, chuckling quietly.

“It’s going that well, huh?”

“Go back to school they said. It’ll be good for you they said,” she laughed, rolling her eyes, “Fuck this. I don’t know why I’m paying to suffer.”

Juice couldn’t help but to laugh, “Sorry it’s so rough.”

She shrugged, “It’s fine. I just need to complain about it sometimes,” she smiled at him, “And since you’re the one who is stuck with me, you’re the one who has to hear it. Sorry.”

“You can complain as much as you want,” a smirk tugged at his lips as he drummed his fingers on the table, “I don’t mind.”

That was the routine that they fell into for the next week. Each morning Juice would show up at her apartment, make small-talk with Diedra that got less and less awkward as the days went on, and then they’d head to the clubhouse once Dakota was ready. On the days when Juice was actually working at T-M, Dakota would set herself up at the picnic table outside, or if she was just reading, she would find an empty chair in the garage to sit in so that the two of them would stay close. It wasn’t that they really needed to talk all that much, but the proximity was nice. And, for the time being, they had the cover of the fact that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her.

In the midst of a sea of fleeting touches and soft smiles, neither of them brought themselves to say anything to address all the feelings that were bubbling up. A few times, Juice almost did. There were moments, after he’d park his bike at the clubhouse or her apartment, and she’d leave her arms wrapped around him a little longer than necessary. She’d keep herself flush against his back despite the fact that she didn’t need to anymore, and he’d almost get the nerve to say something to her. But it never quite happened. He’d see her reading, taking notes on something that was way above his paygrade, and every square inch of his brain would scream at him to tell her that she’s beautiful, but the words always got caught in his throat.

“Guess what,” Diedra strode over to the picnic table where her sister was sitting, laptop set up in front of her for class.

She looked up, eyebrows raised, “What’s up?”

“As of,” she looked at the time on her phone, “One hour and twenty-five minutes ago, we are no longer on fake, need-a-babysitter lockdown.”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head, “I don’t think that you ever really were.”

“Yea, well,” Diedra laughed as she swiped up her sister’s drink and took a sip of it, “now Dad can’t keep giving me shit about it. So that’s a plus,” there were a few beats of silence, “You gonna break the news to pretty boy over there? Or you gonna let the club do it?”

She smiled, shaking her head, “No news to break. Shit will just go back to business as usual.”

“He’s gonna be real fuckin’ bummed about it, you know.”

She arched one eyebrow, “Why does it feel like you’re encouraging this?”

“He seems less shitty than most the other guys you’ve brought around.”

“We’re not even—”

“I know,” Diedra chuckled, “I know you’re not. But he’s chomping at the fuckin’ bit so I’d say something before he thinks that he’s completely lost his shot.”

Dakota’s nails clacked on the surface of the picnic table as she tapped them, clearly thinking about everything her sister had said to her. Diedra walked away, letting her little sister mull over what she had said.

As the afternoon was drawing to a close, the guys all came out of church into the main expanse of the clubhouse. Everyone was whooping and hollering, and it was clear that whatever the issue it was that had arisen, had been taken care of. Everyone else who was already at the clubhouse joined in on the cheering, despite not knowing all of the details.

Diedra and Dakota were camped out at the bar, each of them smiling and shaking their heads because they knew the antics that were about to ensue. The music immediately got louder and the prospect behind the bar skipped over grabbing glasses and just took out a few entire bottles of liquor to set on the counter for the guys to grab.

After a few minutes of the initial chaos, Dakota felt someone’s hand land on her shoulder. She turned around, expecting to see Juice, but instead came face-to-face with her father. She smiled up at him as she took a sip of her beer.

“Glad everything got sorted.”

He nodded, “For now,” there was a pause as he looked her over, “You’re alright?”

She laughed, “Yea, Dad, I’m alright. I’m not the person at the top of the priority list for anyone who is out to get you. And even if I was,” she nodded towards her sister who was now at the other end of the bar in a heated discussion with Tig about something, “between Di and Juan, no one was getting to me.”

His brows furrowed when he heard her refer to him by his real name, “He didn’t do anything fucking stupid, did he?”

She almost choked on her beer, shaking her head, “No, no he didn’t. Jesus Christ, Dad, cut the kid some slack.”

“Alright,” he nodded, pulling her in and placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, “I love you.”

She chuckled, nodding, “I love you too.”

Happy disappeared into the crowd and it was only a few moments before the stool beside her became occupied. She glanced over, a smile spreading across her face when she saw the person she’d been expecting originally.

“Congrats on, well,” she chuckled, “whatever you guys did.”

Juice smiled, shaking his head, “Just keeping ourselves alive and outta jail for another day. That’s all,” he paused as he took the beer bottle being handed to him by the man on the other side of the bar, “Guess you’ll finally be able to go and get your pedicures now.”

She laughed, “Yea I guess so. The invite is still open if you wanna come with me. It’s quite the experience.”

“Tempting,” he leaned onto the bar, letting his elbows rest on it, “But I think I’m good.”

“You know, even if you don’t want to go and get pedicures with me,” she sipped on her beer, “We could find something else to do that we could both enjoy.”

He looked over at her, a tentative smile on his face, “Yea?”

She shrugged, “Yea. Preferably something not early in the morning. I’d love to go back to sleeping in,” she couldn’t help but to laugh.

“You didn’t have to wake up early, you know.”

“Yea, but, I wanted to. I…I like spending time with you.”

That statement hung in the air for a few seconds before she gently nudged his knee with her own. It snapped him out of whatever train of thought he was trapped in, his eyes searching hers waiting to figure out the next move. She smiled, a quiet laugh passing her lips before she leaned in and kissed him, her hand coming to rest on the back of his head.

Shock went through his body for a moment as he forced himself to realize that it was really happening, that it wasn’t just a dream. His hand lightly gripped onto her thigh as he let himself lean into her. When she pulled her lips off of his, they each laughed, the sound of it soft against the raucous noise of the clubhouse.

“I’m free tomorrow,” Juice forced out through the surprise coursing through his system, “If…if you wanted to do something.”

Dakota laughed, leaning back onto her seat but letting her hand tangle up with his, “Yea, I could do something tomorrow.”

“Afternoon?” he said with a laugh.

“Yea,” she laughed and gave his hand a squeeze, “Tomorrow afternoon is good.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x oc #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #oc dakota #oc dakota lowman #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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drmmyrs · 3 years

Note

ok so i had this idea.. after kamilah and amy being married for quite a time they grow a bit distant and one day kamilah finds amy in a bar serenading someone or flirting - the thing is she’s cheating- however kamilah doesn’t leash out -at first at least- but get that amy is very young compared to her, and while kamilah had many partners, amy didn’t. so they talk about “having an open marriage”. however, they agree to not discuss any info about their affairs, until someday amy walks into a bar and finds kamilah with aiko (it’s a business thing but amy doesn’t know that). anyhow, after getting into a fight, where kamilah enjoys teasing Amy cuz that was her idea and letting her think that yes she was with aiko, Amy then realises that maaaybe an open marriage wasn’t a good idea after all

Sorry for the delay anon, kinda had a block the past few days 😕 Hope you like it! 💕

Shoutout to @samanthadalton for the title 🧡

tag list: @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @noixngn @sillyandcutewizardstuffs @noah6m55-blog @itszdavenport (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Another Woman (Kamilah x MC)

Amy and Kamilah had been married for nearly 40 years, and life couldn't have been more perfect–or at least that's what Amy kept repeating to herself. She looked at her wife, happily tending her garden, a smile of pure contentment on her lips. Ever since Rheya had been defeated, there were no longer any major threats that terrorized both vampires and humans alike on a global scale. Sure, some fanatics would try and mobilize against the other kind, but it was never threatening enough that Amy and her friends had to intervene. There was no impending death. No running. No fighting. They were safe. She should be happy. Then why wasn't she?

Ever since Adrian became the Chairman of the Vampire-Human Relations Committee, he barely had time for his company, which was why he had left Amy in charge of most business dealings. Amy quickly jumped at the chance, of course. Even when she was human, it had always been her dream to lead a company, especially a multi-billion dollar company like Raines Corp. What Amy didn't foresee, however, was how quickly she would lose her passion for it. She knew that if she quit her job, Adrian really wouldn't mind. But then what? It wasn't like there was another profession she was passionate about. And most importantly, Kamilah was already happy, content with the way things were. And Amy could never take that away from her.

One night, when Amy felt more downcast than usual, she decided to go to a bar for a drink or two, just enough to get a buzz after a crummy day. She was in the middle of her first drink when she was pulled out of her thoughts by the sight of the bartender placing a new drink on the counter in front of her.

"For you, Miss."

"But I didn't–" Amy started, but the bartender had already walked away.

She looked around until she met the gaze of a gorgeous young woman sitting a few seats beside her. The woman raised her drink and smiled at her.

"You look like you needed a stronger drink."

Amy blushed when she realized that she was staring. "Oh, uh, thanks."

The woman stood up and sat beside her, outreaching her hand. "Josie, by the way."

Amy shook her hand. "Amy."

The night went on with the two of them chatting and drinking. And before she knew it, Amy had forgotten all about her day, her sorrows, and the woman she was supposed to come home to.

***

At home, Amy could barely look at her wife in the eyes, the shame of her affair eating at her heart. It wasn't enough, however, for her to stop as the exhilaration of her newfound intimacy overpowered any existing guilt.

One night, Amy was at a booth in a bar with Josie, cuddling with her, when suddenly, the hair at the back of her neck stood up. She felt a familiar presence–her scent, the beating of her heart, it was all remarkably distinct from any other. Amy swept her eye around the bar and immediately saw her. Kamilah was looking at them, her gaze shifting from Amy's eye to her hand, which was on Josie's thigh. Amy quickly excused herself and strode to follow Kamilah, who was now walking towards a quieter part of the bar.

"I'm sorry." Amy didn't bother lying.

Amy fully expected Kamilah to be mad–who wouldn't be after catching her wife cheat on her. But Kamilah just stood there silent, no emotions betraying her.

"You're not mad," Amy stated as a fact.

"No." Kamilah gave Amy a tight smile. "I've been with countless partners, Amy, and denying you of that same experience would be... hypocritical on my part."

Amy just stood there silently for a while, not knowing what to say. She then took a deep breath and decided to break the silence. "An open relationship. We could have one of those." The idea left a bitter taste on her tongue, but it was the only thing she could think of that would be fair to both of them.

Kamilah nodded. "I suppose there are rules?"

Amy chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. "No feelings, just sex."

"All right. I also suggest that we don't discuss the details about our affairs."

"That's fair." Amy narrowed her eyes. "Kamilah, are you sure you're okay with this?

Kamilah smiled and placed a kiss on Amy's forehead. "Anything for you, my Dear," she whispered.

It wasn't an answer. In fact, it was a love declaration as it always was with Kamilah. And it didn't do anything to quell the guilt that Amy felt.

***

Amy sat at the edge of the rooftop of Raines Corps–something she usually did when she wanted to be alone with her thoughts–and watched as a group of young vampires jump from roof to roof. A smile escaped from her lips, remembering a similar memory from the past with her friends. Suddenly, her eye caught a familiar figure getting out of a car below, followed by another figure. Amy's anger and jealousy instantly spiked as she watched Kamilah and Aiko make way to a bar, her mind racing with all the possibilities. The devil then took over her body as she raced towards them, her eyes glowing red and her fangs exposed. When she reached the bar, Kamilah and Aiko were on their way to a booth, and before anyone had a chance to react, Amy dashed to Kamilah, grabbed her hand, and led her outside to a nearby alley.

Kamilah's eyes were wide, shocked by Amy's outburst. "Amy, what–"

"Aiko?! Really? Of all people?"

Kamilah stared at Amy, looking genuinely confused. "What's wrong with Aiko?"

"What do you mean what's–" Amy rubbed her temples. "Well, for starters, she's only madly in love with you, and you have all this history–

All of a sudden, Kamilah started laughing.

"–are you seriously laughing right now?!"

"Sorry. You're just too cute when you're jealous."

"It's not funny!"

Kamilah raised her eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, you're the one who suggested an open relationship."

"But we had a rule! No feelings remember?!"

"I don't have any feelings for Aiko."

"But she obviously has feelings for you!"

"And how can I be sure that the girls you're seeing doesn't have feelings for you?"

"I..." Amy didn't know how to answer that, so instead, she let her head hang down. "I don't know," she murmured.

A few seconds later, she felt Kamilah wrapped her arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

Amy melted into the hug as hot tears prickled her eyes. "I don't want this anymore, Kamilah. Let's go back to the way things were. Just you and me."

When Amy pulled away, Kamilah's eyes were filled with desire, with hunger. And when their lips touched, it arose something between them. The passion that was once lost was flowing in waves–each touch, each moan, each sensation filling every inch of their bodies until the world dissolved around them; it was just her and Kamilah at that moment. Kamilah pushed Amy roughly against the wall, her fangs digging into Amy's lower lip until she tasted blood, earning a deep moan from her. In response, Amy slipped her hands inside Kamilah's shirt, digging her nails against her back until they bruised–the pain intensifying all other sensations until it became too much for both of them.

"Wow, that was..." Amy said between breaths when they pulled apart.

When they recovered, Kamilah looked at Amy intently and then said something so unexpected that Amy wasn't sure if she heard it right.

"When we get home, let's start packing our bags."

Amy blinked in confusion. "W–what? Where are we going?"

"Somewhere. Everywhere." Kamilah's brown eyes glowed with eagerness replacing the calm glint that Amy had been accustomed to for the past decades. "There are still so many places I want you to see, experiences I want you to have." Kamilah's voice then grew softer, almost shy. "After all the running around, building a home with someone I love, it was like a dream that I never thought could ever be fulfilled, even in an eternity. So when I had that with you, I became comfortable, too comfortable, that I deprived you of the worldly pleasures that you could have enjoyed. And I'm sorry for that."

"You didn't do–"

"No, let me finish." Kamilah took Amy's hand in hers. "You're my home, Amy. No matter where we are, that dream had already come true." Kamilah raised Amy's hand to her lips and kissed her knuckle. "So... what do you say?" Kamilah was smiling hopefully at Amy, the corner of her eyes crinkling in adoration.

Amy nodded enthusiastically, beaming, and pulled her wife into a bone-crushing hug. "Yes! I'd love to."

Kamilah buried her face against Amy's hair and hummed in appreciation. "You deserve the world, my Queen. And I intend to give it to you."

#kamilah #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #choices #playchoices #play choices #my work #my fanfics #my writing #request

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 11

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As soon as I walked into the veterinarian office, I felt it. Like a total drain of my muscles and my head started to hurt.

“Mountain ash.” Dr. Deaton said as he came out from around the corner, “It weakens werewolf abilities so they cannot shift their form.”

“That would explain it.” I smiled, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“How can I help you, (Y/N).” He knew my name.

I squinted at him, “Have we met?”

“We have, but you wouldn’t remember. You were here with some minor injuries and your parents weren’t sure if you were going to turn and just in case…the hospital found something interesting.” He said, a small smile on his face, “But I see you have finally turned.”

I nodded, “Yeah, but I don’t know how.”

“I believe I may have an answer.” He pulled out a book from the front desk. It was a dark leather bound book, its pages were brown with age.

“It was a spell used by werewolf clans that were being hunted hundreds of years ago, in France, Scotland, England. In some cases, werewolf hunters would test werewolves in their human form with Mountain ash, rendering them unconscious. Et obscuratus lupum. Wolf Eclipse.” I looked at the book, seeing a drawing of what looked like a child, half human, half wolf.

“Parents would perform this spell to cloak their child from hunters. The Mountain ash wouldn’t affect them and they would be spared and safe until they could transform. This spell would also remove any memories of werewolf behavior from beyond that point so they couldn’t give away the rest of the clan by accident.”

I looked down at the desk, “But why now? Why did I turn now? And why am I an alpha? I’ve never killed anyone.”

“As for your turning now, many children are given back their power by their parents. Or if their parents were killed, they usually don’t unless something triggers the change - high stress, fear, terror, torture. But I can’t explain the alpha part, the only people who could were your parents.”

“Derek? Derek!” Isaac’s voice echoed through the building.

“What’s wrong?” Derek turned away from what he was doing. Isaac looked frantic and scared.

“My dad… I think he’s dead…”

“What did you do?” Derek asked firmly.

“That’s the thing…It wasn’t me.”

I woke up on the couch. Not the best place to sleep all night.

I sat up and cracked my back, twisting from side to side. I shuffled into the kitchen, seeing Uncle Noah already there.

“Morning, kiddo.” He said, sipping his coffee. He went with the dark roast this morning. Bitter. Something serious had happened.

“Morning.”

“We found Lydia, I don’t know if you heard.” He said.

I nodded, “Of course, talk of the town. Stiles is gonna get an A in economics.”

He shook his head, a small smile on his face. He was still slightly sleepy, meaning I could probably get something out of him about what’s making him leave this early.

“What’s going on?”

He yawned and raised his eyebrows. He looked around the corner then back to me, “Promise you won’t tell Stiles. And I’m only telling you because it involves one of your players.”

“Isaac?” I asked, “Is he okay?” Uncle Noah narrowed his eyes at me, clearly confused how I knew.

“I had my own questions about his home life. A guess.”

“Well we found his dad dead this morning. Mauled to death in his car in an alleyway.”

“Mauled?” Great… This is exactly what we needed with this hunter situation going around. Didn’t Derek tell Isaac that humans were off limits, especially right now? Isaac didn’t seem like the type, but if he was getting abused, maybe he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yeah, not pretty. Oh, by the way.” He rifled through the mail, “This came for you at the station.” It was a brown envelope. It had multiple stamps and postmarks. The text was written in old English calligraphy.

“The Lunar Circle.” I shook my head, “Never heard of it.” I looked at the return address, “Scotland?”

“I guess so.” He looked at his watch, “Alright, gotta go.” He kissed the top of my head, making his way out the door.

I got into the locker room later than usual, but in time to watch Scott and Stiles stare at a chain that was falling out of Stiles’ locker. Coach walked between the two of them, staring at the chain as it finished pooling on the floor.

“Part of me wants to ask… the other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine. So, I’m gonna walk away.” Before I could speak to the two, Coach slipped the blind fold onto my eyes, the elastic slapping the back of my head.

“Good looking out.” I nodded vaguely in his direction. Stiles shoved a bag in my hands, Scott and Stiles started shoving the chain into it and froze, Scott tensed up.

Another scent. Someone like us.

“There’s another in here.” Scott said.

“Another what?” Stiles asked.

“Another werewolf.”

Once the players were on the field, Stiles pulled me aside.

“Alright, switch Scott with Danny for goal and then you use your sniffer on the guys on the bench.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, still not over what he said the other day.

He stared for a minute, then closed his eyes, “The silent treatment, really?”

I smiled slyly, nodding.

“Oh my god.” He groaned, “Look, I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to protect me. I get it. We can have this conversation later, please.”

I thought about it for a minute, then nodded, “Fine. I’ll go tell Coach.” I found Finstock and told him.

“Why would I want McCall in goal? McCall is co-captain. He needs to play offense.”

“That’s true, but what happens when Danny gets hurt during a match. Are you gonna put in someone from second line or someone with those reflexes?” He stared for a minute, thinking about what I just said.

“Think about it like this. Danny’s out, it’s tied and we are ten seconds from overtime. Who are you putting in? Second line or McCall.”

He nodded and chuckled, “Good thinking.” He turned back to the other players and blew his whistle, “Let’s go! Line up!” Players made their way onto the field, “Faster! Make daddy proud.” Daddy… I hate it. I scanned the line up, there was number fourteen at the end - Isaac.

Coach blew the whistle again, signaling the drills to start. Scott ran from the goal, tackling the player. Scott was many things. Subtle was not one of them.

“McCall!” Coach shouted, his eyes wide and his hair seemed even wilder.

“Yeah?”

“Usually, the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Let’s try it again!”

“What the hell, man?” The player shouted. His name was… Matt Daehler if I remembered correctly.

Coach blew the whistle again, throwing another ball into play. Again, Scott knocked the next player down.

“McCall!” Coach called again, “The position’s goalkeeper, not goal-abandoner!’

“Sorry, Coach…”

“Let’s go!” He blew the whistle. Again, Scott knocked the next man down.

“Stiliniski!” Coach pulled Stiles up by his helmet. Stiles stood up from the bench on the other side of me, “What the hell is wrong with your friend?”

“Uh, he’s failing two classes, he’s a little socially awkward, and if you look close enough, his jawline is kinda uneven.” Stiles said in a rush.

Coach and I turned heads to the side, looking at McCall. Was his jaw always crooked? Had I not noticed in all of this time?

“That’s interesting.” He said, dropping Stiles' helmet. Scott knocked over Danny next, landing on top of him. Danny was having a good year so far.

“McCall!” Coach shouted, clearly frustrated, “You come out of that goal one more time, and you’ll be doing suicide runs ‘til you die! It’ll be the first ever suicide run that actually ends in a suicide! Got it?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Yeah!” Coach glared.

Jackson looked at Scott warily, “Uh, Coach, my shoulder’s hurting… I’m gonna-I’m gonna sit this one out…” He watched out of the line and onto the bench. What’s gotten into him? Besides not the bite. Scott ran forward at Isaac. But instead of Scott taking him down, they both collided and fell to the ground. That’s when I saw Scott pause, he found his werewolf.

“Dad?” Stiles asked. I turned around, seeing Uncle Noah and two other officers heading towards the field. They must have been coming to bring Isaac in for questioning.

“Don’t tell them…Please don’t tell him.” I heard Isaac say.

I stayed back with the rest of the team while Finstock was talking to Uncle Noah. Scott was listening in on the conversation.

“His father’s dead. They think he was murdered.” Scott said.

Stiles looked at me, “Is that what you and my dad were talking about this morning?”

“There may have been something Uncle Noah told me not to tell you.” I grinned innocently.

“Come on…” Stiles sighed, “Are they saying he’s a suspect?”

“I’m not sure. Why?”

“Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours…”

“Like, overnight?”

“Those generally are the same amount of time, yes.” I said.

“During the full moon.” The full moon. Not only would it be Isaac’s first turn, it was going to be mine.

“Crap.” I mumbled.

“How good are these holding cells at holding people?”

“People? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good.” Stiles said grimly.

“Stiles, remember when I said I don’t have the urge to maim and kill?”

“Yeah…”

“He does.” How Scott could tell that, I couldn’t tell. Because I didn’t get that vibe.

I made my way through the hall, seeing Uncle Noah in the hall outside the principal's office.

“What’s going on?” I asked, not seeing Isaac near.

“We’re interviewing Jackson Whittemore. He’s Isaac’s neighbor, we’re just trying to see if he knows anything. I’m just waiting to meet the new principal.”

“New principal?” I asked. Right after I spoke, the door opened. And there stood Gerard Argent. I tried to hide my shock when I saw him, since the last time I saw him I watched him cut someone in half.

“Sheriff Stilinski, I’m terribly sorry to keep you waiting. Just a phone call from one of my teachers.” He said in his brogue, he turned to me, “And Miss (Y/N), assistant coach for our lacrosse team. I have been anxious to meet you.” He held out his hand. Oh, he was anxious? Yeah definitely.

I blinked, a small smile on my face, “It’s good to meet you as well. I apologize for my shock, I was not aware that you had been hired.” I shook his hand. His hands felt cold, like the ice in his heart spread through his veins.

“I understand. It was quite unexpected. But I am excited to get started.” He played his role well. An older man happy to help and be accommodating to his new surroundings. I knew the truth though, and it terrified me. But I needed to lay low and stay on his good side for right now. He declared war, no longer following the code and Chris couldn’t stop him like he stopped Kate.

“Of course. I’m excited to work with you too, Mr…?”

“Argent.”

“Oh like Allison. She’s such a sweet girl, I always see her at games.”

“She became a fan.” He nodded. In the distance, I could hear Jackson’ walking down the hall. How did I know it was Jackson? His brand new shoes squeaked.

“Well, I gotta head out. Delivery came to the front office for the team. Pearls and crosses. It was good meeting you, Principle Argent.”

“Please, call me Gerard.” He smiled.

I grinned and nodded, “Gerard.” I looked at Uncle Noah, “I’ll see you tonight.” I made my way towards the front office, glad that the hunter couldn’t hear my heart beating out of my chest.

“You okay?” Derek’s voice echoed in my head.

I sighed, taking a deep breath, “No. They took Isaac into lock up, Gerard is the principal, and I am going to turn tonight whether I want to or not and I’m scared.”

“We’ll talk.”

I sat on the front steps, looking over the envelope. The Lunar Circle. Was this something my parents were involved in? Just as I was about to open the envelope, I got a text from Scott to meet him and Derek at Isaac’s house.

So I met them there, looking up at the sky. I had already cracked all of my knuckles so now I just was wearing a hole in my shoe from tapping.

“Are you alright?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, Scott, were you okay when you turned the first time? Because I can recall you almost killing me the last time.” My eyes flashing red.

“Hey, I apologized for that.” Scott defended himself.

“(Y/N), look at me.” Derek stood in my line of vision. The red left my eyes and I sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just… anxious.” I clenched and unclenched my hands.

We snuck into the Lahey household, making our way down to the basement.

“If Isaac didn’t kill his father, who did?” Scott asked as Derek led us through the house. Derek moved slowly, keeping a flashlight beam ahead.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then how do you know he’s telling the truth?”

“Because I trust my senses. And it’s a combination of them.” He looked at Scott over his shoulder, “Not just your sense of smell.”

“You saw the lacrosse thing today?” Scott asked sheepishly.

“So you saw him tackle and sniff everyone on the field, his big plan.” I added.

“Yeah.” Derek said plainly.

“Did it look bad?”

“Yeah.” Derek and I said together. Derek opened the door and we all looked down to the bottom of the basement, Scott and Derek’s eyes lit up the space a little, enough to see what was below. There were the usual things - chairs, dust bunnies, boxes.

“You wanna learn?” Derek asked, “Start now.”

“What’s down there?”

“Motive.” We started down the stairs.

“And what are we looking for?”

“Follow your senses.” Derek said. I strayed from the group, seeing dust covered toys and games, covered with age and gray. It looked like a normal basement, but it felt like something terrible had happened here. Derek took my hand in his, pulling me back to them.

“What happened down here?” Scott asked.

“The kind of thing that leaves an impression.” Derek said in a low voice. It was kind of creepy, in addition to the spider web covered basement. As we went further into the basement, we saw chains hanging from the wall. My heart sank. I took Derek’s flashlight and lit up the floor, there were groove marks in the floor. Scott bent down and placed his fingers within the groove. Scratches in the cement floor. My attention was brought to a large freezer in the corner of the with a rusted padlock. The energy radiating from the cooler made my heart drop into my stomach.

“Open it.” Derek told Scott as we stood in front of it. Scott took off the lock and lifted up the lid of the freezer. My mouth fell open in shock, tears burning at my eyes. Scratch marks, covering the entire inside of the freezer. The worst were the rust covered marks, meaning that Isaac was so desperate to fight his way to freedom that his fingers bled. I turned away from the freezer, feeling nauseous. Leaning over, my hands on my knees.

“This is why he said yes to you?” Scott asked.

“Everyone wants power.”

“If I help you, you have to stop. You can’t just go around turning people into werewolves!” Scott had a point. It was dangerous to be a werewolf right now. That’s why my parents did that ritual on me.

“I can if they’re willing.”

“Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?”

“Yes, and he still asked.”

“Then he’s an idiot!” Scott shouted.

I stood back up and stared at Scott, “An idiot? He’s been tortured his whole life, Scott, and he’s the idiot for trying to save himself.” There was a growl in my voice as my anger rose. Derek put a hand on my arm.

“You’re the idiot dating Argent’s daughter.” Scott looked shocked at Derek’s words, “Yeah, I know your little secret. And if I know, how long do you think it’s gonna take for them to find out?”

Derek grabbed Scott by the shoulder, “You saw what happens to an omega. With me, you learn how to use all your senses. With me, you learn control.” He lifted Scott’s clawed hand, “Even on a full moon.” Seeing Scott’s hands, I lifted mine and saw the claws had grown in. I hadn’t even felt them come out.

Scott pulled his hand away, “If I’m with you, I lose her.”

“You’re gonna lose her anyway. You know that.”

I shook my head, thinking about the night Peter was killed. The look in Allison’s eyes as she shot arrows into Derek and I was cold, no emotion at all. “Scott, don’t you remember what happened? She shot us down.”

“That wasn’t her, that was Kate.” He defended her, like a love sick puppy.

“Was it? You didn’t get to see her when Kate brought her down to that cellar and watched as Derek got electrocuted, over and over. She did nothing to stop her, she knew it was wrong but she didn’t stop her. Allison’s loyalties are never going to be with us.” My voice was calm but the shaking was starting to take over. It felt like my chest was going to burst at any moment. Even my gums ached.

“Come on.” Derek said softly in my ear. He escorted me to the stairs, a gentle hand on the small of my back.

“Wait!” We turned back to face Scott, “I’m not part of your pack… but I want him out. He’s my responsibility too.”

“Why? Because he’s one of us?”

“Because he’s innocent.”

I sat in the parking lot of the Sheriff’s office, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. I can’t do this. How can I help break Isaac out of jail when I can’t even keep myself in control. I shouldn’t be around people. I shouldn’t be around Stiles or anyone else in the deputy department. I jumped when I heard the knocking at my window. Derek and Stiles stood there, looking a little concerned. I opened my door and got out, sticking close to Derek. If anyone could stop me from attacking Stiles it was him.

“Okay. Now, the keys to every cell are in a password-protected lock-box in my father’s office. The problem is getting past the front desk.” Stiles stared at me like I was from Mars, “I gotta tell ya, I don’t think I’m going to get used to the red eyes anytime soon.”

“Yeah, me either.” My voice had a growl too, quickly shutting my mouth.

“Well, there goes plan A. Letting you distract the front desk.” I glanced inside, seeing a woman sitting there, sipping her coffee.

“I’ll distract her.” Derek said, turning towards the building.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Stiles grabbed onto Derek’s jacket and pulled him back., “You? You’re going in there?” Derek eyed Stiles hand, then Stiles, telling him to get his hands off of him in his usual way - without words.

“I’m takin’ my hand off.” Stiles quickly pulled his hand away.

“I was exonerated.”

“You’re still a person of interest.”

“An innocent person.”

“Ah-” Stiles blew out air, “You? Yeah right.” He sighed, “What’s your plan?”

“To distract her.” Derek said impatiently.

Stiles nodded, “Ahuh, how? By punching her in the face?”

Derek let out a fake laugh, “By talking to her.”

“Is he even charming?” Stiles looked at me. Derek looked at me expectantly while I thought for a minute.

“Compared to when I first met him, he’s very charming.” I smiled awkwardly.

Stiles rubbed his temples, “Okay. Alright. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?” Derek only stared.

“Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?” Stiles asked sarcastically.

“I’m thinking about punching you in the face.” Derek said snidely. Once Stiles agreed, we made our way towards the station but before we went in, I pulled Derek aside.

“I can’t do this.” I looked up at the moon, “My body feels like it's going to fall apart and I feel so angry and-”

“Just hold out a little longer.” He placed a hand on my cheek, “As soon as we get Isaac out, I’m gonna bring you somewhere where you can let it all out and you won’t hurt anyone. But right now I need you to get inside and make sure nothing happens to Isaac. There’s a hunter in there who’s going to kill him.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

Derek led the way into the station, Stiles and I stayed low to avoid the deputy.

“Good evening, how can I help-” She paused, looking up at Derek, “you?”

Derek gave her a thousand watt smile, “Hi.”

“Hi.” The woman said with a little tremble in his voice. She leaned on the desk.

“Um, I had a question…” he chuckled, “Um, sorry, I-I’m a little thrown. I wasn’t expecting someone…”

“Like me?” She asked.

“Oh, I was going to say ‘so incredibly beautiful’, but yeah, I guess that’d be the same thing.” Derek said sheepishly. Stiles stared at Derek’s back in disbelief. I shoved his side. He shook his head and we crawled down the hall to uncle Noah’s office.

Once inside, Stiles used a code on a keypad on the wall that opened a small hatch. It was empty inside. In the next room we heard the jingling of keys.

“Oh no…” Stiles and I ran towards the source of the noise, getting closer and closer to the cells. On our way there we were stopped short by a deputy.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles apologized, “Just lookin’ um…” I looked over the deputy, then I saw it - an arrow sticking out of his leg. I hit Stiles' side. He looked down, then back up at the deputy.

“Ah shhh-'' We tried to run for it but he grabbed us, pressing his hands over our mouths so we couldn’t scream. I wanted to rip his hand off with my teeth but that would be putting Stiles in danger and outting myself as a werewolf to a hunter if he got away. As we were dragged back towards the cells, Stiles pulled the fire alarm.

Once in the cells, he threw Stiles and I into one of them. I clenched my fists together tightly, desperately trying not to turn. Sharp teeth poking at my lips. Stiles grabbed my arm, bringing my attention to the other cell, the empty cell. Isaac was loose. The hunter’s shout brought us back to see him being attacked by Isaac. He pinned the hunter to an examination table, then threw him against a wall. The hunter struggled but got up, trying to stab Isaac with a syringe but Isaac grabbed his arm and broke it. Isaac slammed the hunter’s head into the wall, he fell, dropping the syringe.

Derek came into the room shortly after, stepping on the syringe. The sound of glass breaking turned Isaac’s attention to us. His yellow eyes took us in, his fangs and claws sharp. He stalked forward towards us. I shoved Stiles behind me, baring my fangs at Isaac as he came closer. Derek’s roar broke Isaac out of his trance, making him fall to the floor and scramble to the corner. He looked up from the wall, looking more human. He was trembling in fear.

“How did you do that?” Stiles asked, trying to catch his break.

“I’m the alpha.” Derek smirked, his eyes red.

Ignoring the trembling the best I could, I walked over and kneeled beside Isaac. He was breathing heavily, eyes darting around the room like he was expecting someone to show up.

“Isaac.” his eyes focused on me, “Let’s get you home.” I smiled and held out my hand.

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Read part 12 here!

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sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Note

massaging them , bandaging injury in healer draco / auror Harry one shot please thank you ❤️

This one is new!! Btw sorry for delaying it. Here ya go, hope you like it. @flakeyakey

Single healers

" come on, get him in here" although it was deafening. He was probably losing his senses, his eyes opening and closing, blurring his vision. He couldn't really see the speaker but unconsciously sensed the urgency in their voice.

" and you're sure he wasn't bitten ?" The same voice asked again. Harry tried very hard to open his eyes and see who it was, but exhaustion was pulling him under and he was ready to sleep. Long sleep.

His breath was cutting short, his vision blackening, he was relaxed finally until someone started to lightly pat his cheeks.

" keep breathing, potter... Don't you dare give up right now " and that was the last thing he heard, only getting a slight peek of someone oddly familiar and with a nod, harry closed his eyes.

It was really exhausting to be where harry was right now but all he did really felt was the uncomfortable pillow, hurting his neck. In attempts to fix his pillow, he tried to move his arm until he realised they weren't exactly in a spectacular shape and he grimaced with pain.

" welcome back sweetie" he heard a sweet voice. Okay, there isn't any woman at Harry's home, so he opened his eyes.

" ouch " harry immediately shielded his eyes because of the intense light

" shut that light Karen, it's hurting his visuals" Someone said as they must've shut the door behind him.

Once the light was turned off, harry relaxed and opened his eyes again.

" wow, this is definitely not home " harry groaned

" well not if your home is a hospital potter" the guy in the white coat said. Harry couldn't see whoever it was, mostly because his back was turned to harry but also because he was very much leaned over onto the table that you couldn't see anything but his white coat, his black pants and nice black shoes, shining, and if harry wasn't wrong they were vintage, oh!!

" so how do you feel ?" The guy finally turned around

" I knew it, only you say my name that way " harry fisted his palm in a small victory.

"yeah, yeah very great achievement potter, now how do you feel ?" He asked

" well, for one, I can't feel my ass because of this bed, second, my arm is really sore, third my pillow isn't put right so it definitely is craning my neck too much that it hurts. And lastly my question how did I wound up here ?" Harry goes

" Karen please do the honours of adjusting thy majesty's pillow or he'd cry over it" the other man said as he poured some liquid carefull in a vial.

" now, to answer your question, I am not even slightly interested in how you wound up here, all I know is that you are here and I have to take care of you. Next, the beds are a bit uncomfortable, you'll get used to it in a bit and if not, I'll cast a cushioning spell and lastly, can you tell me exactly where your arm feels most sore ? And do the honours of actually telling me how you feel ?" He said as he walked towards harry, analysing the morning reports he received.

" still keeping the I am a prat attitude Malfoy, suits you " harry rolled his eyes, pointing above his elbow on the dorsal side.

" well the sodding insolent prat attitude suits you too potter " draco rolled his eyes as he lightly dabbed Harry's arm recieving a flinch.

" there's no such external injury here so I think that's a bruise. Think massage would do it " draco frowned to himself

" I feel a little dizzy by the way. Also there's a portion on my neck that is itching quite badly, can I scratch ?" Harry asked innocently.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows before helping harry sit upright and taking a look at the point of his itch.

" those are deep scratches. So no you can't scratch Over. Karen I thought all wounds were cleaned up "

" I did. It must've been because it's on his back I might've missed it. I'm sorry " she hurriedly Apologized

" that wouldn't really qualify you as a healer would It, now, next time don't make the same mistakes. Ms. Adelman across the room needs you by the way " draco said as he dipped some cotton in antiseptic potion and cleansed Harry's wound.

" it's burns ? " Draco asked

" a little " harry grimaced.

" I think you got that from the werewolf " draco whispered as he carefully studied for any bites.

" when will I be free ?" Harry asked impatiently.

" well at this pace not for another two weeks" draco replied as he pushed down his reading glasses and kept the files over the side table.

" no way. I'm not staying for 2 weeks. That's 14 days off work, I can't do that. I'm in the Middle of an important case and-"

" okay save it potter. You have to stay for 2 weeks and it ends there. Your friend Weasley will come by and explain you everything but under my watch, even if you're free you're not allowed to work"

" and who gives you the right?" Harry rolled his eyes frustratingly

" me. As your healer, it is my responsibility to make sure that you only resume when you're wounds are all healed up " draco huffed, annoyed by Harry's childish behaviour to just break free.

" and you think I'd listen to you ?" Harry narrowed his eyes in a glare at Draco.

Draco clenched his jaw before closing his eyes and continuing speaking " you are not going anywhere and that is it, you get me! And if you do try to get away, I will tie you up with shackles without a wand. Now if you're a chain eater or something like that then you'd be successful to break free otherwise not "

" whatever " harry rolled his eyes, again. If draco had one pet peeve, it was people rolling their eyes necessarily on his face and potter seemed to have a death wish.

" look " draco pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed " you don't understand the severity of your injuries. I understand your passion for work and all but not at the risk of health. If you must know you were attacked by a werewolf, the problem however is that we're not sure if you were bitten or not.. it might've been someone who bit you before full moon, basically not a werewolf then but there is a possibility that you're not bitten, the more likely one -"

" but if there's a bite, you should be able to see right ?"

" yes and no. The evolution of werewolves is allowing them to leave very little traces of bites these days which of course does not benefit them nor potentially harm the one bitten. The real reason why we can't figure whether you're bitten or not is because your back Is covered in scratches and if you can't feel them it's because of the numbing potion. And we're done talking. Drink this up quietly"

Harry looked at Draco strangely for a moment before taking the vial from his hand and bottomed up " can I work from here ?"

" no " and draco walked out.

And then it became a thing, harry constantly asking if he could work and draco constantly denying and threatening him that this time he'd definitely put him in shackles. And by the by, interactions between them did get pretty interesting every once in a while when Draco used to check him up late at night before leaving from work.

And one of these days harry shoot his shot "you pretty much always leave late, come early and stay here all day, so I should by now just assume that you're single "

" not that it's any of your business potter " draco absent-mindedly replied as he changed the bandages on Harry's back.

" ha- you didn't deny it. So you are single " harry exclaimed

" sit still "

" sorry "

" why do you care if I date or not ? My personal life Potter " draco said as he changed the bandages on the bottom right of Harry's back, amused for a moment of what he saw something going under his pants. It seemed like a mark, he didn't question it.

"I don't. Just curious " harry shrugged.

" well dearest curious George, I must assume that you're single too since nobody special visited you " draco said as he got up and lightly massaged Harry's sore arm from before. Harry relaxed in his touch before he continued the conversation

" I don't do Dating. Even if I do date someone, it's never about us or the dating in itself, it's just mostly to get into witch weekly or daily prophet under the chosen one's new beau sort of thing "

Draco almost pitied harry for never having found something but decided not to, since he obviously didn't need the pity.

"that sucks " draco hummed " does it hurt still ?" He pressed a little more firmly over the spot

" not much anymore " harry replied " what's your not dating excuse ?"

Draco etched a small smile especially for harry before he told him the truth " it's a bitter world for me out there. I think it's the same as you, you know just the opposite end. It's almost as if i- I'm still a death Eater and people still hate me for that "

Harry pressed his lips in a thin line, never having thought of it. He always thought it must've been easy for Draco to find Someone, with being attractive and working somewhere you're basically helping people all day but it came as a mild shock as it was opposite.

" whoever ends up with would be one lucky person though " harry complimented just in time draco stopped massaging and picked up the vials to give to harry.

" really ? What makes you say that ?" Draco smiled

" because I know you'd do anything to keep that person in your life no matter the cost. And I've seen the good in you, you're not all bad " and with that harry gulped the vial, missing out draco's blushing.

" I think whoever ends up with you would be a lucky one too then " draco said as he finished up aligning the empty vial bottles on a tray to take them away.

" and why's that ?" Harry smiled

" because- it's just you. You're different and you're nice.. think you'd always keep them happy and safe if it were your life on stake. That's just you " draco complimented smiling at harry.

Not as capable as draco, harry turned pink from the compliment " that's nice of you "

Draco should not have been mesmerized but unfortunately he was and it should've been a mistake, but he liked it. And he knew harry enjoyed gazing at him too but the moment Only lasted so long and draco broke free before he could've lost control.

" I should go. Goodnight. Take care " and he left the room.

The next morning draco returned to his room, the first thing he saw was an empty bed until he harry walked in, shirtless.

" y- you can walk " draco said

" yeah. I can " harry smiled.

Gaining his composure back, Draco resumed " and you cleaned up nice, with all the Shaving "

" I figured I'll be leaving in 3 days so better get used to it again " harry replied

Draco stared at harry dumb folded " oh, right, yeah, 3 days "

" so " draco pouted " does it hurt anywhere? Need of change in bandages ? Or anything else?"

" no, I think I'm fine " harry placed his hand over his hips, frowning.

" well, alright then. I'll be going. I'll be checking in on you at the end of the day like a normal healer. Goodbye potter " and he practically ran before his heart might've fell out of his chest, metaphorically ofcourse.

The rest of the day draco got so busy that when the night came, he couldn't visit harry again even if he desperately wanted to but he was so exhausted that he could Barely walk and so by the recommendation of the work counsellor, he got sent off.

The first he did next day was visit harry, who to his surprise was sleeping. So like a normal healer, he checked his bottled of vial, his normal medicines and the bruises and left. When the night came, harry was swamped with his friends that draco couldn't had stayed for more than professional purpose. The next day again when he visited harry, he was tiredly sleeping. Defeated, draco worked all day until again at the end of the night he visited harry to see him sitting with all the files.

" working?" Draco asked as he place his files over the side table and started checking Harry's injuries, which were now almost healed.

" yeah. Filling in for what I missed while being here " harry sighed.

Draco scrunched his eyebrows looking at Harry he retrieved his hands and asked him " do you really enjoy your work though? Like putting your life on line and working immensely over something so exhausting ?"

" do you enjoy your work ?" Harry huffed

" I do. I very much do. It's tiring sometimes yes but I like what I do. It makes me feel nice About myself. Is it the same for you ?"

Harry huffed pushing away the files before Pouring our reality " to tell you the truth, I don't enjoy work. It was all fun in the beginning, the chase and run but now it just seems as if that's all I've been doing my whole life. Running after the bad guys but then that's exactly what everyone expects of me and I can't let them down. So I do exactly what I've been doing, the right thing "

Draco amusingly watched him, as if it was fun story, only it wasn't " my mom always used to say, much before anyone else's you're your own. There's no point in living your life the way people expects. I think they must've have had enough of that already. There's nothing new in the potter magazine you know, the chosen one after the bad guy. Life's too short for the same title harry "

" hey, you called me harry " harry pointed out grinning

" don't I deserve to at least call you by your name after taking care of your lame ass for 2 weeks " draco chuckled.

Harry chuckled " you deserve it, draco "

And draco smiled.

The next morning when harry was finally ready to depart with no ill effects or presence of lycanthropy, he waited until he see'd off draco..

" and I thought I'd almost miss your departure " draco heaved, breathing in harshly..

" nah, I wouldn't had let that happen " harry chuckled..

When Draco finally had his air back he leaned upright looking at harry " it was nice having you here "

" it was nice being here " harry smiled

" so, I guess, I'll see you around then ?" Draco asked awkwardly.

" right, yeah, of course " harry rambled.

" cool then " draco pressed his lips in a thin line, pushing his hands in his coat pocket.

" alright then. Bye " harry hesitated

" oh. Yeah..bye. see you again probably " draco replied

" yeah, might. Bye then "

" bye " and then finally harry stepped back one by one until he reached the door handle and turned around to walk out.

" fuck it " harry whispered under his breath and walked back to draco

" something wrong ?" Draco asked

" you. I don't care how stupid I might sound, but I like you, like I really really like you and I haven't felt his way for someone in a long time and I don't want to blow this away. So draco malfoy would you maybe want to go out with me someday even if I'm a complete insolent prat-"

" okay, yeah "draco grinned

" and I've got attitude problem and you possibly don't feel the same- wait- you said yes?" Harry rambled

" yep. I said yes " draco chuckled.

" oh. Then I'll definitely see you. Outside leaky cauldron, at 7 "

" you definitely will " draco smiled

" okay then" harry grinned as he started walking back again.

" okay "

" okay " harry bit his lip.

" I like you too by the way " draco chuckled

" I really have to go.. but it's good to know " harry chuckled..

" okay " and then harry finally left, after dancing in victory of course.

Requests open

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nicka-nell · 3 years

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Heey ^__^ could I get Oikawa and Sakusa for your event? Oikawa angst to fluff with 17 and 58 so they have a fight and s/o dreams bad and he comforts his s/o? And Sakusa break-up to make-up with 6 and 21 and fluff at the end? Thank you and I hope your event goes well <3

Bad dream (Oikawa x reader) Break-up to make-up (Sakusa x reader)

Hi! I’m so so so sorry that I answer you so late! But I was busy with the move in my new house the whole time, and I had no time to write. :(( I hope that’s okay and that you’re not mad or angry or anything else. So here we go!

Valentine’s Day - Prompt Event | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Oikawa x reader (Bad dream) Warning: angst to fluff, mention of cheating Prompts: 17. “Shh, it’s okay. It was just a dream.” 58. “I didn’t mean the things I said.”

Many people, handsome men and women in expensive suits and dresses. People laugh, talk about every new gossip, and you feel completely out of place with your simple dress. It is your favorite one, a dress you had bought for a wedding and now always wear on special occasions. It flatters your body, yet it’s a simple dress. One from a regular store, for a normal Price and not a brand dress, with crystals, beads sewn by hand or other elaborate stuff.

They invited Oikawa to a gala. One to which all successful people appear, but unfortunately you no longer know anyone. All have already gone home.

Intimidated you sit at the table, looking over at the cluster of women that had formed around a certain person. Your boyfriend. Oikawa always liked to be admired by everyone, so it’s no wonder that he feels comfortable with the women who would like to scratch out each other’s eyes just to get to Oikawa.

It offends you that he pays little attention to you today, only takes photos with all the other women. Oikawa avoids photos together with you and even forbade the photographer to photograph you. You wonder why he invited you in the first place, why he even wanted you with him if he didn’t want you by his side anyway.

One woman has been talking to him for a long time, exchanging loving looks, looks that Oikawa usually only throws at you. Or are you imagining all this in your current state? Whether or not you imagine it, you no longer want to look at them.

You know Oikawa isn’t paying any attention to you right now, get up without a word, and quietly find your way out, past the bodyguards standing at the entrance, as they point out to you that you won’t get back inside without an admission card. But you don’t even want that.

With a big lump in your throat, your feet carry you through the frosty night. Along the dark alleys you both drove with Oikawa’s car a few hours ago. Your body is getting cold, already shaking, but the bitter pain in your heart makes you forget all about it.

Obsessively, you’re trying to think of something else, not what Oikawa is doing to that woman right now. “Y/n! Wait!” Makes you a voice twitch.

How many times had this woman told him about her success in her modeling career? What was her name again? He obviously doesn’t remember. Oikawa’s eyes silently follow her lips as they move when she looks at him. Did she ask him a question? Damn it…

He wasn’t listening to her. “Hah, you’re hilarious, you know that?” Oikawa smiles, hoping she hadn’t asked him something. But apparently she didn’t, because she just puts her fingers to his chest with a smile, stroll her tongue over her lips before she stands on her tiptoes and approaches Oikawa’s ear.

“You know, we can continue our conversation somewhere else. My hotel isn’t far from here.” She breathes seductively at him, but Oikawa pushes her away, irritated. What the… Without really going into it further, he goes out of the group to go to the table where he was far too rarely today.

On the way there, he takes two glasses from one of the servers who walks through the room with a tray full of champagne glasses to approach the table where you are, with a smile on his face. Where you should be.

Because when Oikawa arrives, there’s no one. The place is empty, your bag is missing. There’s no one at the entrance. He can nowhere find you. A bad feeling spreads in him. Worry that something happened to you, but also anger, that you just left without telling him anything.

How does he look like now? Surrounded by women, but he can’t hold his own one, the woman he loves. His gaze is dark when he asks one of the men at the door if they saw you. But they stay calm. Just tell him that you left the building a few minutes ago.

Oikawa doesn’t let the man finish his sentence, almost jumps out of the automatically opening door. It increases his pulse as he looks in all directions, looks for your silhouette, but does not find you.

Oikawa’s sports car is still right where he parked it. Sure… Because how could you drive the car if he had the keys? His head thinks about where you could have been now, but his legs are already moving, knowing exactly where you want to go. Where you feel safe and secure. At your home.

His pace keeps getting faster, so fast, he’s almost running, hoping to catch up with you soon. Hoping nothing happened to you in the alleys in the dark. And there he sees you, arms wrapped around your body, the footstep heavy and slow.

“Y/n! Wait!” Shouts Oikawa’s voice as you turn around and look in his direction. He quickly caught up with you, but wishes he hadn’t. Because every step he takes toward you, he sees your sparkling eyes. How they glisten through your tears, reddened as your body trembles.

“Y/n…” He pronounces your name in such a fragile tone as his hands approach you, gently laying on your shoulders. They are freezing cold. He didn’t notice it because of your tears, but now that he’s looking more closely, he sees that your lips no longer have their natural color, that your teeth are clattering.

“Let go of me, Oikawa!” You sniff tormented, pull yourself out of his grip and knock his hands off you. Oikawa… A punch in his face. A blow to his heart. When was the last time he heard his last name coming out of your mouth? Maybe in high school.

“What… Why did you run away Y/n? You made me look like an idiot! And now you’re standing here, shaking and rejecting me while you’re crying? What’s wrong with you?” But he does not finish his last sentence when you interrupt his words so quickly.

“YOU look like an idiot? I stood there like an idiot! Sat there like a gray mouse in the corner while you were chatting with the women! The whole time you let yourself be photographed with them, wanted to avoid all photos with me! Why did you invite me if you didn’t want me there? Why did you flirt with this woman? Why are you doing this?! If you wanted to break up, you could have just told me instead of kicking me in the dirt! Oikawa, go!”

You yell at him, punch him in the chest before looking at him with hateful eyes. He does not understand your words, does not understand why you are angry, but it offends him to know that you seem to trust him so little. He hadn’t flirted with that woman. So why do you see it like that? Why can’t you see what was behind all this? “I was just trying to protect you!”

“Protect me? From what? From you? You wanted to show me that until now you only flirted with the women at the events, maybe even fucked them?” You are full of anger, full of rage, no longer aware of your own words that leave your mouth indignantly. Which hurt him.

Because he loves you, always loved you. In all those years you’ve been together, he’s always tried to treat you like his queen. Because he’s the king, and you are his wife. So how could you possibly think he was cheating on you? How can you portray him as a person after all he’s done for you?

“You really think I’d sleep with any of these women? Do you really believe that, Y/n? I can’t believe it…” he shouts at you in horror, doesn’t notice how he steps back and looks at you coldly.

“You know, maybe I should really go back, really flirt with that annoying chick and get in bed with her. If that’s what you think I am. A cheating boyfriend! I am curious how her breasts will feel in my hands, what her mouth can do and-” Even Oikawa forgets himself, not noticing how he hurts you more and more with every word.

How you shut your ears because you don’t want to hear all this. “Stop it! Stop it! Then go Oikawa! Go and don’t come back!” You call him before you turn around and start running. Run away from him as soon as possible.

You don’t know if he’s following you or going back to the gala, but you don’t care. You just want to go to your house. Get out of this dress, into your bed and under the warm blanket that gives you security.

Back at the gala, Oikawa’s eyes look out for the pretty woman who had been flirting with him an hour ago. It doesn’t take long before he finds her, walks up to her and asks if she wants to share a drink with him.

Seductively, she licks her lips, only nodding as she struts in front of him, wobbling her butt to present it in its best form. “What took you so long, pretty boy?” She asks him, her hand on his thigh, as she sits on the bar stool and waits for the waiter.

“I had an argument with my girlfriend, she was here, too. Well, now she’s not.” For a brief moment, there’s a spark of regret in his expression. A little of guilt as he lowers his head and looks at the hand on his lap, searching for its way to his belt.

“Your girlfriend? Didn’t see her. But good thing she’s not here anymore, what?” She winks at him, but Oikawa doesn’t answer her. Her false fingernails drill into the fabric of his pants, causing him to look into her face with too much make-up. “My room is just around the corner…”

They exchange wild kisses as Oikawa pushes her against the wall of the hotel room, rips her dress off and begins to play with her breasts. He can hear her moan loudly, as well as the tearing of his shirt and the buttons jumping in all directions. “Shit, we should have done this a lot sooner.” Oikawa groans as he kisses her neck to her breasts.

“Did you hear? Y/n! Y/n!” Your vision becomes unclear, inconsistencies slowly form now that you hear his voice twice. Now that you feel a grip on your shoulders rocking your body. “Y/n!” The voice becomes clearer. The images you had before your eyes become more unclear, disappear.

Instead, you are in your bedroom. The dimmed light of the bedside lamp illuminates the room and surrounds Oikawa’s worried face. You don’t notice your tears running down your cheeks. You don’t notice Oikawa pushing you into his arms.

It still confuses you. “Shh, it’s okay. It was just a dream.” he tries to calm you down without even knowing what you have dreamed. “Oi… Oikawa?” Your voice trembles at his skin, as does your body. “Please, please don’t call me by my last name. You know I love you and I don’t like it when you don’t call me by my name.”

His hand gently strokes your hair, his scent flows through your nose, calms you somehow. “But you were… with her…” You sniff, murmur your words indistinctly. Oikawa didn’t understand all your words, but he can imagine what you said.

“Y/n… I wasn’t with a woman. Just with you, right here, right now. What you saw was all just a dream, none of it happened.” Oikawa’s voice lies like a pleasant veil on your skin, calming you with every word as he embraces your face with his hands and makes you look into his chestnut brown eyes. Looking at you with love. “But… you said…”

“I didn’t mean the things I said. I don’t know what happened, I was mad. I was mad because you just walked away because you had portrayed me as a cheater even though I love you with everything I have. You know, Y/n, I want you to be there. I always want you by my side. But I also want to protect you from the media. I don’t want people following you. That you become a prey just because you’re the girlfriend of a successful volleyball player. I want your beautiful smile all to myself. And this woman, she… I don’t even know what she said. She was just annoying. I know all this doesn’t excuse what I said, and I’m sorry I didn’t think about your feelings when I dragged you to the gala. I thought you’d be there-”

Your lips seal his words before he can finish them. Tightly your lips press against each other, almost painfully, while you want to show each other that you are sorry. You didn’t know Oikawa was trying to protect you from the media, but you’re grateful to him.

“I’m sorry I said all those ugly things to you, Tooru.” You breath in between all your kisses as he presses your body to his, while his hands drive over your back full of desire. “I’m sorry I said all those things too. About you, about that woman… I’m sorry Y/n. Please forgive me, my beautiful queen.” His words are so honest, so pure, yet so vulnerable.

“Yes… Yes, I forgive you, my king.”

Pairing: Sakusa x reader (break up to make up) Warning: angst to fluff, Prompts: 6. I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.” 21. You come here often?”

It’s been three years since you’ve gone your own way. Three years trying to enjoy the places you had previously spent with Sakusa. He had broken up with you, felt like it would be better to go separate ways.

He wouldn’t be able to make you happy if he was just at his training all the time, traveling the world with the Japanese national team and focusing only on his career. But he didn’t pay attention to your feelings. That you loved him, had always loved him, and had always supported him.

It hurt you that he didn’t want to take this step with you, that he let you go even though you had begged him to stay. To save your relationship and look to your future together.

Three years have passed since you tried to forget him. But no matter where you go, no matter who you spend your day with, you always had to think of Sakusa. You always had to think about your relationship, the tenderness and the touches of the past. Sakusa did not like physical contact with others, but you were an exception. He loved to hold you in his arms as you sat on your couch together; you read your favorite book and he listened to you quietly. Taking a bath with you and watching a sequel to your favorite show. Or to go for a walk with you.

But now everything is different. While Sakusa is successful and shines in the spotlight, you try to distract yourself with miserable dates. Except none of these men are like him. No one was interesting.

Three months ago, you took your friends’ advice, stopped dating, and focused on you instead. You feel like it helped you, because slowly, you started thinking less about Sakusa. Less of your time together. Started to forget about him.

You don’t know why, but today it drives you into the forest, into the little hut on the mountain where you were with Sakusa. You forgot your worries and only enjoyed the beautiful view. Still you like going there, only you don’t think of him anymore, but of the nature that surrounds you, the animals that are on the trees and the ground, until you arrive at the hut.

You have a thin smile on your lips as you walk around the hut to sit on the edge of the small cliff. You bend your legs up to your chest, sit there, watch the sun go down and let the fine spring breeze tickle your skin.

“You come here often?”

He hasn’t been here for a long time, to be exact. The last time he went this way was just over three years ago. Three years ago, where he probably made the stupidest mistake of his life. Because he had let go of his luck for the career he had always wanted.

He thought it was best for both of you. He thought he was doing all this just for you. So why did it feel so wrong?

Why could he never forget you all this time, why did his heart hurt every time the journalists asked him if there was already a lady of heart in his life? Why did he still have a picture of you two as a background? Why was the cheesy keyring you gave him for fun on Valentine’s Day still hanging on his keyring? After all this time, why did his legs carry him to the one place he loved most after your home?

The sun almost went down when Sakusa arrived at the hut where he used to be with you. In front of the hut is a large rock with a notch that looks as if someone had cut a hoof into it. In your little hiking book he had read that there is a little legend about this, a fairy tale, in that a prince with his horse had taken so much power and energy to jump over the cliff to his princess, that the horse had left an imprint in the rock.

Sakusa still remembers well how you smiled at him when he had read this saga in high concentration. A bittersweet smile spreads on his lips as his fingers touch the rock before he approaches the small hut.

But strangely enough, his legs don’t carry him into it, but around it, as if he wants to watch the last bit of the sunset. But it’s not like that. As Sakusa goes around to get to the small cliff where he has sat so often, his heart beats faster.

He briefly thinks of just turning around, walking, but his words leave his lips even before he can think. “You come here often?”

Your heart races, painfully contracts with the sound of this voice. You are considering whether it might not have been your imagination, but you are hearing steps that are getting closer and closer to your form.

Hesitantly you look to the side, up to the face, what you had seen the last time three years ago in real life. Not only on a screen. “Ki… yoomi?” Confused, you look at the black-haired man in front of you, who looks down with embarrassment, his hands in his trouser pockets, before looking at the sky. To the mountains where the sun hides.

“Can… I sit down?” He sounds like he doesn’t know what to say, what to do. But you don’t give him an answer, just turn away from him and look forward again. “This is a free place, I can’t forbid you to sit here.” Although his words had a hint of irony, yours are serious.

Your arms clasp your legs tighter as you perceive his scent after he sits down. How you feel his warmth, as his shoulder brushes yours. For a long time you remain silent, say nothing, do not know how to erase this painful silence.

You don’t know why your body goes crazy, why everything hurts again, why his presence makes you fight with your own tears, even though you were so sure you almost forgot about him.

“Y/n... it was my biggest mistake to do all this to you, even though I loved you… Even though I love you.” Delayed, he pronounces his last sentence quietly so that you hardly understand him. But it was crystal clear in your ears. They make your tears flow down your cheeks, drive your emotions crazy.

“I thought I was doing this for us… I thought it would be best for you. You should be happy. But… But instead, I ruined everything. I let go of the woman who was my sun in my darkness. I loved you more than anyone else. I love you more th-” Sakusa’s words are honest, calm as he utters them, but you interrupt them with a shrill cry.

“Stop it! I don’t want to hear another word! Do you know how bad that was for me? Do you know how much you hurt me? Damn Kiyoomi, I loved you! It took me almost the whole three years to even process that you had left me! And I was so close! So close to finally forget about you! But what are you doing? You come here and slap your apology in my face like all this happened yesterday, for what? What do you want from me, Sakusa Kiyoomi!”

Your voice is loud, yet fragile in his ears, now your words hurt him like a thousand stabs. He did everything wrong. He had made you unhappy. But why does it hurt him the most that you almost forgot him? He had to think of you at any time, not even in a dream, to erase you from his memories.

The time passed, the sky turned almost black. He doesn’t see your tears, but he hears your trembling voice fighting your sniffing. Your voice continues to pounce on him, you tell him louder and louder how much he hurt you and at no time does he try to interrupt you.

But you become silent, and he speaks. “Y/n? Do you still love me?” he asks seriously, trying to sound as calm as possible, even though he is afraid of your answer. “Damn it, Kiyoomi…” You breathe now that you can’t hold back your sniffing.

How can this one question put you back in the time of three years ago? Make you realize you still love him? But you don’t tell him. You just sense how his body moves. A draft of wind tells you that he is thinking of taking you in his arms, but the warmth that was on your body for a moment disappears as if he had changed his mind.

Even though you’re still mad at him, even though you’ve been trying to forget him all along, it doesn’t feel right to sit next to each other in silence. But you don’t want to forgive him so he can hurt you again.

“I never stopped loving you Y/n. But I can understand if you don’t feel that way anymore. I’m really sorry if I interrupt you by forgetting about me… It’s stubborn of me to tell you I want the time back where I would have just kissed you now, where we would have gone home together, laughed and cried.”

With his words, everything in you constricts even more tightly, your loud beating heart becomes heavier when you straighten up and look for your mobile phone in your pocket to find your way home in the dark.

“You’re right, it’s stubborn.” Your sad voice only sounds softly as you turn on the light to leave, but Sakusa’s hand pushes yours down. Your belly tingles as you feel his other hand on your shoulder, his body only half a step away from yours.

“I know I’m not in a position to ask, but if you really want to go now… I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home… Just one last time. Please.” You hear he is serious, that he too is struggling to keep his voice strong.

You know full well that if he accompanies you now, you will never forget him. That your feelings will come back again and that you want nothing more than to feel him on your body, to feel his love. But instead of refusing, other words leave your mouth.

“I can’t stop you from going back with me, can I?” You laugh sadly, but Sakusa doesn’t answer you. He just takes your phone from your hand to hold it forward, so he can brighten the way.

None of you dare say anything to look at the other or touch them. Yet you both search for the warmth. Once on the road, he turns off your cell phone flashlight, gives it to you again before he quickly looks ahead.

You, too, just look into his dark eyes for a moment before your gaze wanders off. Again you are silent. But this time you dare to catch a glimpse, to peek at him, when you notice that his hand, which is usually always in his jacket pocket, now dangles freely at his side.

He used to do that back then. That’s the way he was trying to show you that he was okay with you holding his hand. You’re wondering if all this is just a coincidence, or if he’s doing it on purpose. But your body acts against the fear that rages in you.

Yet your hand approaches his, your fingertips playfully touch his hand before you feel Sakusa’s grip on them. With glowing cheeks you turn your head to the side, do not notice how Sakusa looks at you in astonishment as a slim smile adorns his lips.

He’d like to tell you so much, but he doesn’t know how to start. For a while he thinks about his words, but then you stop, study him with your big eyes, a mixture of fear, pain and hope draws your face.

He notices how the quick moment of hope he had, that everything will be back to normal, is getting smaller. The fear spreads over him. “Kiyoomi? Promise me you won’t hurt me again this time...” He didn’t expect these words. With the words that shatter all his sorrow in one blow, make his belly tingle, make his heart race.

At an incredible speed, he clears the gap between you, letting go of your hand to embrace your face with both hands. His raven-black eyes are powerful, leaving you speechless. “Never. Never, I’ll make you unhappy again. So please, please give me this last chance”, he whispers throaty, his voice weakens when you nod hesitantly, and only a blink later his lips lie on your forehead.

This time, he won’t hurt you again.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #oikawa x reader #sakusa x reader #lovebirds-event

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smaidjor · 3 years

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and i pay for my place by the ring (Chapter 1)

Hey guys! Welcome to another angsty fic by yours truly, provider of flower husbands pain.

Some things you should know before you jump into this:

1. This is a companion fic to my fic "i know they're losing". You can understand it without having read the other one, since it's the same story from two different POVs but I think the overall experience is better with both!

2. The overall title of each fic is from the mitski song I bet on losing dogs. Chapter titles are from the Last Goodbye from the Hobbit films.

3. There is a lot of lord of the rings lore in both fics, and I mean a lot. You may be kinda confused if you've never read tolkien's works. It will all be explained eventually, though!

4. With the fact that it's a companion fic and a lot of people came here from Jimmy's POV in mind- this is a lot heavier of a fic. The content warnings are heavier and the angst is more intense. You have been warned.

(Obligatory disclaimer that this is about characters, not ccs, and do not ship real people, as always!)

Chapter Title: to these memories i will hold

Chapter Wordcount: 4000

Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, self-esteem issues, panic attacks, past death, very frank discussion of death. (In general, if suicide or death are triggering topics for you, this is probably not the fic for you. Stay safe and take care of yourself!)

AO3

Actual fic under the cut:

Scott didn’t expect to survive 3rd life. No one did, he thinks, but especially not him. Clever, clever Scott, who knew his fate too well for his own good. He could have chosen his allies carefully, he knows, could have played on their emotions to make them think he was loyal until the moment he turned on them to win. He knew who the strongest factions and warriors were, the most cunning and intelligent participants in this death game they were forced into. Instead, he chose Jimmy. Sweet, dopey Jimmy, who had the personality of a golden retriever and only a handful of braincells at any given time. Jimmy, who was worth more than all the stars in the sky to him. Who made him feel alive . No, Scott didn’t expect to win. Not when it was Jimmy by his side- when it was Jimmy by his side, winning didn’t matter. All that mattered was Jimmy’s blush when Scott pressed a kiss to his cheek, the way his hair looked like gold in the sunlight and his smile lit up Scott’s whole world.

After Jimmy died, Scott stopped wanting to survive 3rd life. What was the point? The stars can shine on without the sun, but all life on Earth would wither and die. The same happened to Scott’s broken, bitter heart, he found. Jimmy was the first person in years to love him truly, wholly, with no strings attached; it was terrifying how quickly Scott fell for the first person to look at him and not expect him to be anything but what he was. Scott’s world, which used to be mountain peaks and endless blue sky, narrowed to warm brown eyes and a grin like sunshine quicker than he could comprehend. Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, it all came back to him. What was Scott without Jimmy? The unwanted twin, the unloved child, the un-elven elf. Because who cared if he was a good shot with a bow or good at organizing teams or building pretty little houses? He would always be second-born, second-best.

It was fitting, really, that when Scott died, he died alone. Some might find it ironic that the man who knew enough people to fill the roster of a championship held by a god every month died without a single person to witness it save his enemies, but in the end, it was always going to be like this, Scott knew. He hadn’t been there to see Jimmy die, he hadn’t been able to hold him in his final moments and soothe the agony of death. Maybe this was his punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised; the gods of this world did not smile on him and never would. Why should they, when he had failed the only person who had ever found him good enough?

When he woke up in Rivendell, he was almost disappointed. Almost. He considered ditching the rest of the elves, up and leaving to somewhere that didn’t make it feel like the noose of immortality was slowly tightening around his neck. If nothing else, Noxite would let him crash at the MCC server for a bit until he found somewhere to go. And yet, in the end, Scott’s stubborn sense of duty won out. The elves needed a ruler. Xornoth had disappeared to god knows where, and though they had been braver, wiser, better in every way, Scott was the one who had stayed. Who was willing to take up the crown that weighed so heavily on its bearers. So Scott, who no one ever expected to rule, took up the burden of leadership.

Now, he tries and fails to get out of bed and wonders what the point of that even was. He’s fading, and worse than that, he’s fading over a human. His ancestors are probably rolling in their graves. Rivendell will be leaderless within a decade, and this time there are no heirs to take control. Not even a ‘spare’ like Scott used to be. What a mess.

There are footsteps on the stairs. They’re unfamiliar, meaning they could be a threat, but he’s too tired to bother sitting up. If he dies, well- it’s inevitable, really, in the same way watching the mortals he loves dies is.

The person comes around the corner, and Scott realizes with no joy that he won’t be dying today after all. Katherine looks both curious and concerned, but her voice tilts towards the latter when she asks “Scott?” and then, more hesitantly “Lord Smajor?”

He blinks at her, exhausted. “Hi, Katherine.”

“I came to talk to you about some empires stuff, but, I mean, if this is a bad time, I can come back later…?” She sounds so thrown off by his state that Scott almost feels bad.

Whatever it is, it must be important if she’s come all the way here, though, so he gestures her to a chair. “No, no, stay. I can muster the energy for a meeting, just don’t ask me to get up.”

Katherine takes the seat. “I came to talk about the corruption on the server, but- are you okay? Are you sick?”

Nothing about the question is funny in any way, but Scott laughs regardless. “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Take my hand.” He offers it out, knowing the unnatural cold is unsettling no matter if you’re elven or not. Katherine does as he asks, the concern on her face only growing as she grips his icy hand.

“Elves don’t get sick like mortals do,” Scott explains. “Nor do we die of old age. But we get...heartsickness, you might call it. We call it fading in our tongue- the cold hands are a symptom of that. Our souls are fragile, and the grief of the mortal plane can be overwhelming. If an elf is too struck by it, they fade away and die.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, a frank reminder of the slow and painful death that awaits him.

Katherine gasps, and Scott knows he’s alarmed her.

He goes on, though. “It usually happens to old elves, world-weary.” Ironic, it’s ironic that he’s saying that as a young elf explaining his own death. “Those who are tired of existence. But any elf who has experienced enough grief is at risk.”

Her face is nothing short of horrified. “You’re- fading? But doesn’t it usually happen to old elves? Wait, are you old?”

“I’m fifty-five.”

“Is that old?”

He has to laugh. “Fifty is the elven equivalent of eighteen for humans, the age of maturity.” Though he feels so much older than that, both in elven terms and in human.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “How can you be so calm if you’re dying?”

“I’m tired, Katherine. The world tore me away from the people I loved, and..I’m tired of fighting it.” He’s so, so exhausted. So sick of having to claw and scrape and struggle for the barest scraps of happiness.

“Is there a way to reverse fading- to fix it?” Katherine sounds so hopeful that the question seems almost naive even though she’s far more capable of a ruler than he is. Naive in the affairs of elves, maybe, much as she’s intelligent in so many other ways.

Scott tries not to flinch at the innocent inquiry, thinking about the deaths from fading that he’s watched. “Technically, yes. If an elf recovers enough emotionally, it’s reversible. But whatever caused them to fade the first time can- and often does- cause it again.” And again, and again, until there’s nothing to be done but let them die , he finishes in his head.

Katherine nods, a look of determination overtaking the hope. “We’ll just have to reverse it, then.”

“That’s sweet, Katherine, but I’m dying.”

“No. You’re not going to die. Now come on, you can show me your empire while I fill you in on what’s happening on the rest of the continent.” She sounds so firm that he doesn’t dare disobey, though his exhaustion makes a fair effort at convincing him to. Will this really fix anything? Unlikely. But it’s worth it to try, if only to humor Katherine. At least this way she’ll have the comfort of having tried to save him when he inevitably fades away into nothing

Scott takes her hand, though it brings him little warmth, cold from her trek here. “Alright.” He swallows the bitter grief in his throat before it can seep into his words. “We can try.”

He leads Katherine around Rivendell, taking some pride in the way she oohs over the decor. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s building. While some elven rulers might see it as below themselves to help build houses for their citizens, Scott finds building soothing. It’s one of the few skills he picked up during his time away that people really appreciate; no one wants to live in a shitty house.

As they walk, she also tells Scott about the demon, Xornoth. “The demon’s already visited a lot of people, I think. Gem and Shubble for sure, and Fwhip and Sausage. That’s not even mentioning the corruption that’s been spreading.”

If Scott said that the name Xornoth didn’t make him flinch, he would be lying to himself. It’s not your sibling , he tells himself. It’s just a coincidence .

It’s through the virtue of years of lying that his voice comes out steady. “There’s corruption in Rivendell too. Likely Xornoth’s work. And given that Jimmy still has Vilya-” his heart doesn’t ache when he says Jimmy’s name, it doesn’t- “well, I haven’t been able to do much.”

“Vilya?” Katherine asks.

“A ring of power. My inheritance from the Noldor.”

“Why does Jimmy have it?”

He doesn’t answer. He won’t- can’t talk about Jimmy, not without remembering how he looked with an arrow through his throat, bright smile gone and face frozen in fear. How does he explain how much Jimmy meant to him? How much he’s now giving up, knowing he’ll have to lose it one way or another?

Katherine drops the topic, seemingly sensing that she’s stumbled on something sensitive. When she has to go home, she leaves with a friendly goodbye and a promise to visit, and Scott believes neither. Who would put the effort into visiting him? He’s not a good friend, he’s not a good king, and god knows he’s not a good husband. In fact, he’s actively avoiding his husband. He may have kept the pufferfish Jimmy gave him, but that doesn’t mean anything. He can’t fall in love with Jimmy again. Loving Jimmy will kill him. (Scott ignores the small voice at the back of his head that whispers that he’s still in love with Jimmy and it’s already killing him just as he always knew it would.)

To his surprise, Katherine does come back next week, and the week after that. He’s ashamed to admit it, but there’s some part of him that’s pathetically grateful when she shows up at his doorstep. It’s a chance to not be alone . Much as he dreads the day when she finally gives up on him, it’s nice that someone cares enough to try and save him from himself.

The third week, Katherine doesn’t show up. Instead, the footsteps on the stairs are familiar in a way that makes Scott’s heart twist painfully.

He takes a deep breath. “Hello, Jimmy.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Jimmy asks. Scott can tell he’s startled by the way his voice goes up, almost frightened.

Scott steels himself, taking a deep breath before rolling over to face his ex-husband. “Do you think I could ever forget the sound of your footsteps?” He forces himself to not get distracted staring at Jimmy, instead going on before Jimmy can open his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Katherine asked me to visit, I’m not sure why, but...here I am. Say, why is she visiting every week?” Jimmy’s so curious. So naive, as always.

Scott laughs, bitter. “Katherine thinks she can save me.”

“Save you from what?”

Scott hears the concern in Jimmy’s words, and he can’t bring himself to break the news. It’s not as if it matters. It’s not as if Jimmy would care; he came here because of Katherine. Maybe he cared at the start of Empires, but Scott’s been nothing but rude to him since. There’s no reason for him to care. (He cares. Scott’s lying, like always. Jimmy cares and Scott knows it.)

“Save you from what?” Jimmy asks again, more insistently.

He refuses to say it. He needs Jimmy out, out of his room and out of his life before he does something he’ll regret. “You should go.” To prove his point, he tries to stand, finding himself too dizzy to quite pull it off. Jimmy rushes to catch him, and Scott hates himself just a little for how that still gives him a warm feeling.

“Scott, what is going on?”

He brushes Jimmy off, letting go of his arm and hurrying for the stairs. He can’t let Jimmy work his way into his heart again; Scott won’t be strong enough to let him go this time.

“Scott, seriously! Answer me, are you okay? What’s happening?” Jimmy sounds almost angry, but Scott can hear the distress under it and that’s what breaks him.

“I’m fading, alright?” His voice nearly breaks at the concern on Jimmy’s face when he whirls to face him. “I’m dying, now leave me alone!”

Jimmy sputters, seemingly caught off guard. “You- what- but elves don’t die, right?”

“We do. From poison, from swords-” Scott thinks back to third life- “from arrows through the throat, from grief.” The words come out more raw than he intends, leaving him scrambling to recover his composure. He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing his voice to steady again. “Come on. If you’re not going to leave, I might as well show you around.”

“You can’t just drop something like that on a man, you know!” Jimmy calls after him, although Scott can hear his footsteps following as well.

“You did ask, to be fair.” Scott replies. His voice is calm. He’s fine.

“I guess so, but- but still, dude.”

Scott pushes open the side door, holding it for Jimmy. “Here.”

Jimmy nods and slips through the door. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Scott starts towards the bridges, intending to show Jimmy the enchanting tower and then the door. He doesn’t care about how fast he’s walking, Jimmy can keep up. He’s taller than Scott and probably has better balance at the moment too. Scott’s struggling not to fall, honestly, but his pride won’t let him go slower.

Jimmy breaks the awkward silence with the question Scott least wants to hear. “So, uh..are we going to talk about 3rd life?”

“No,” Scott says firmly.

“Why not? We need to talk about it some time-”

“I said no .” He can’t talk about it.

“It’s literally killing you to not talk about it!”

The words strike right at the raw wound of Jimmy’s death, and Scott freezes. Inhales. Exhales. Tries to keep calm.

“Tell me I’m wrong, Scott!” Jimmy cries. He sounds so upset, Scott’s heart aches. “I dare you, tell me I’m wrong! Tell me you never cared about me, tell me you didn’t bother to bury me, tell me it didn’t hurt even a little when I died! Tell me I was just stupid little Jimmy, a toy for an elf who’d live far beyond my lifespan! Tell me whatever, just tell me the truth! ”

Scott takes a deep breath. “Fine. You want to know what happened after you died?” He can’t think straight through the rage clouding his head, the desperate need to prove that Jimmy’s wrong , that Scott loved him so much it’s killing him. “You want to hear about me screaming until my throat went raw? You want to know that I kissed your face and sobbed and begged you to wake up, over and over until I couldn’t speak at all? You want to live with the knowledge that Grian had to physically pull me away from your body? Is that what you want to hear, Jimmy? ” His voice damn near breaks on his husband’s name, and Scott thanks the gods he stopped believing in a long time ago that it doesn’t.

��No,” Jimmy says. His voice is soft, gentle, almost as if Scott is a wounded animal that needs a delicate touch. “That’s not what I want to hear, not at all. I’d rather you be happy than love me.”

The words punch the air from Scott’s lungs, raw and soft and real. Scott is an excellent liar. Jimmy isn’t. Scott knows that Jimmy is telling the truth. What he doesn’t know is how to handle that level of devotion. He wonders again how Jimmy- sweet, genuine Jimmy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is hopelessly devoted to an elf who can’t be fully his- chose Scott of all people. Scott, who’s as bitter as Jimmy is sweet, who’s sarcastic and snarky and hasn’t been good enough for just about anything in his life. He certainly wasn’t good enough to save Jimmy, Scott thinks bitterly.

He shakes off the thought. “I buried you on the hill above our houses. I planted a poppy over your grave.”

“Oh.”

“Grian came over the next day. I didn’t want to see anyone who wasn’t you, but I let him in because I had to. He helped me do the straps on my armor and asked me if he could do anything else to make things easier. I told him to bury me next to you.”

“Did he?”

Scott almost laughs at the innocent question. “How would I know? Grian was honorable enough, though, loyal to his allies. I like to think he did.”

“He was a good guy,” Jimmy agrees. “A little bit bloodthirsty, I guess, but good. I don’t suppose he survived any better than the rest of us, though maybe being bloodthirsty helped.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I- can I ask you why you hate me so much now?” Jimmy’s tone is uncertain, hesitant and it hurts . “I mean, if you mourned me in third life and all.”

Scott looks away from his earnest gaze, but he can’t stop the truth slipping out. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t?” Jimmy asks, seemingly bewildered. “But you burned the pufferfish-”

“I didn’t. I kept it.” Scott doesn’t want to think about this, wants to say it even less. “I never hated you. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

“Then why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’ve been kind of busy dying,” Scott says wryly, unable to resist a bit of morbid humor at his own expense.

“Scott! That’s not funny!”

“It was a little funny.”

“No!”

Jimmy sounds genuinely distressed, and Scott drops the wry smile. “Jimmy, I’m an elf. I won’t live far beyond you, but only because I’ll fade without you.” It’s a simple statement. The truth, as much as he can give.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself and fade now?” Jimmy’s outrage is justifiable, but Scott just shrugs.

“It does sound stupid when you put it like that, doesn’t it?” It really does. “But I lost you once, and I don’t think I could bear it again.”

A hand lands on Scott’s arm, and he turns, startled. Jimmy doesn’t give him time to react, throwing his arms around Scott and pulling him close. Scott almost lets out a very undignified squeak at the sudden contact, though he slowly relaxes into Jimmy’s hold.

He should pull away. He shouldn’t give Jimmy false hope like this. But Jimmy is so warm , and Scott is so unbearably cold. Every fiber of his being is screaming that this is what’s right; screw Rivendell and obligations and too-heavy crowns, Jimmy is home to him. He’s warm for the first time in months, and the most heartbreaking part is that it can’t last. He can’t do this again.

He pulls away, ignoring the painful hope on Jimmy’s face. “I’m sorry, Jimmy.” For the first time all conversation, his voice well and truly wobbles. “I can’t. Not again.”

“But-”

Scott shakes his head. “Losing you will destroy me. We dared to love, and now all we can do now is lessen the pain when it all comes crashing down.” The words are like glass in his throat, but he forces them out anyways. They have to be said.

Jimmy’s silent, and it hurts more than if Jimmy had yelled at him.

“Goodbye, Jimmy,” Scott manages, turning away before Jimmy can see the way his face twists in pain. He makes his retreat as quickly as possible, stumbling and nearly taking a tumble just before he reaches the door. Unlike before, there’s no helpful ex-husband there to catch him, to make sure he’s alright and ask a million questions until Scott’s forced to admit that he’s not okay and hasn’t been in a long time.

He fumbles with the latch, hands shaking and vision blurring. Finally, it clicks, and Scott stumbles inside and slams the door shut before sliding to the ground. He won’t cry. He won’t . He doesn’t love Jimmy, he can’t love Jimmy anymore. Jimmy was never meant to be his. They might have carved out a few precious moments, stolen them from the universe and giggled like kids with their hands in the cookie jar as they kissed amongst the flowers, but those brief moments were all they were ever going to be allowed. It was always going to end this way, Scott tells himself. There’s no use crying over a mortal who will be dead in the blink of an eye to an elf. What would his parents say? That this was typical of him, probably. Typical Scott, always wanting what he would never be able to have. Typical, predictable Scott, loving a mortal who shouldn’t be worth anything to him.

He’s crying. There are tears spotting his cyan robes, splashing onto the wood floors he worked so hard on. Scott rubs at his eyes furiously, but that only makes it worse, sobs shuddering through him and leaving him hollow and aching. He’s so cold . The ache in his chest has returned tenfold, stealing away his breath, and he curls further into himself, struggling for air.

He’s going to die. He is going to die , alone on the floor of his house because he fell for someone he couldn’t have. For all that he’s spent every minute since Jimmy’s death in 3rd life wishing for some way out of this cruel world, he’s terrified now that it seems inevitable. He’s scared in a way he hasn’t been in forever, breath coming quick and shallow. He's scared, and he is so, so tired of this ache that haunts him, the chill that he can never get rid of.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispers. There’s no way for the human to hear him, but the name brings him some comfort. “ Jimmy .” He wants his husband. He wants someone to hug him. He doesn’t want to fade away freezing and alone, no one there to hold his hand or reassure him that the pain will be over soon. Internally, he begs for someone, anyone who cares to come looking. To find him, even if they’re too late to save him. Someone. Anyone. Please.

No one comes, and Scott lays on his floor until his breathing steadies out again. His head spins when he forces himself to his feet, and he has to lean against the wall for a few moments. There’s no time for dramatics, he tells himself sternly. He has a kingdom to rule. He cannot afford to break over a mortal he never should have fallen for in the first place. He doesn’t love Jimmy anymore, he can’t .

(He’s lying. But Scott has always been an excellent liar, even when it’s to himself.)

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #i maintag my fic because i dont fear god or scott smajor #my writing

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crescentsteel · 3 years

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Just Friends - Part 10

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo, model fem reader genre: fluff, smut, slow burn, angst word count: 7k

A/N [More at the end]:

I reviewed and edited Chapters 1 and 2 a bit because I kinda cringed at the errors and my writing was wonky (more than it already is now). No plot changes don't worry.

Thank you for all those who read this, especially to those who took their time to comment and feedback. It meant the world to me who stayed up later than usual and poured my heart out on this.

Part 9 || Epilogue || m.list

You instantly snapped your head up with expanded eyes. Despite the sternness his voice contained, you saw the delicate swirl of complex emotions in his eyes, one that you haven’t seen him display before. You saw how the contrast of heartache and relief graced his features.

“I love you, y.n.”

The quietness gave way for you to hear every single word he said. It was gently uttered, but firm on what it meant.

It was almost magical, if not for the perplexity which came with that statement that enshrouded everything else.

As if the universe agreed with you, another set of lights landed on both of you, popping the enchanted bubble you two were in.

“Let’s go. We need to talk” He moved his hand from your waist to the back of your shoulder and guided you to his car. Still unable to regain your calm from what just happened, you absent-mindedly followed him and went inside the passenger’s seat.

“My place or yours?”

His question made you buck yourself up to the present again. It was the question that started your indecent affairs with Kuroo, and now he’s using it to settle what branched from said affairs.

“Did you really just ask me that?” You were unable to refrain yourself from retorting.

“What?” He asked back even though his eyes had a tender playfulness to them. He clearly knew what you meant but wanted you to elaborate for his entertainment.

You just rolled your eyes and ignored it. “Yours.” You weren’t playing his game. You just rather resolve the issue at hand somewhere not in your place. The last time’s conflict left you feeling vacant when he walked out the door and you stayed there with gloom lingering on every space of your place. You couldn’t do anything because it was your home. You just let it evaporate on its own.

In case things go South like they always do, you wouldn’t want to worsen the state of your already sullied abode.

So you let him start the vehicle and drive off.

“I really thought you were gone again,” he broke the fragile silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I went to your place and they told me you left. I assumed you flew somewhere insanely far away for the second time.” All the involute sentiments he was carrying a while ago dissipated. He’s back to his laid-back self.

“Why would you think that?”

He sneered as his eyes flashed with bitterness even as he stared at the road. “Cause that’s what you do, kitten. You run away when things get too inconvenient for you.”

What could you say to that?

Nothing. He was absolutely right.

You tried to prove to yourself that you weren’t a spoiled rich brat by working your butt off, but it was never too difficult for you. You worked hard, but everything went smoothly like how you wanted them to.

But with Kuroo, everything was in shambles. And in every chance you had to make things right with him, you chicken out. You blamed external factors such as timing not being right or other people were in the way. But you always had your chance. You just despised the fact that you had to cross certain barriers to move forward with your relationship with him. You wanted things easy.

Before you left, you really believed that you wanted to confess to him just to get some clarity on your relationship. So why did you stop talking to him at all? If that was your only goal, you could’ve talked to him the morning after. But you didn’t. Because you didn’t like the pain of facing him again when he was messing around with women other than you. So instead of facing it head on, you ran away.

It was the same when you confessed dead drunk and forgot the next morning. You were scared that he didn’t feel the same way, so you took the safe way out.

And when it was becoming too much again, you were tempted to do the same exact thing you did ago: remove all the complications in your life by getting away from the source of it - Kuroo.

With your mind flooded with realizations, you didn’t notice that you arrived at his place already.

At least that was what you thought because he stopped the engine, but the neighborhood wasn’t familiar to you.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“My place. Duh.” He answered before getting out. It was sarcastic, but it cheered you up. He was back to how he used to treat you before the drunken fiasco. It was just three weeks but it felt like you haven’t heard his taunts far longer than that. That’s how much you missed him.

You followed him and stepped out of his car as well. He must’ve moved out just recently, probably when you weren’t talking much, or else you would’ve known.

“Glad to know you moved out of that dump.” Even with the current situation, you couldn’t just stay quiet when your mind instinctively thought of something to get back to his snarky remark.

“Dump, huh?” He was looking at a certain building that you surmised was where his new apartment was. He scoffed before looking at you.

“Wonder why you agreed to let me fuck you in that dump though.” His grin spread wide enough that his teeth showed, clearly pleased with how he handled your usual battle of sarcasm.

You veered from his playful gaze and pursed your lips from the lack of a good response to bring down that haughty smile of his.

You regret ragging him on. You should’ve just stayed quiet.

“Can we go inside now? It’s cold” You changed the topic being the loser that you were.

“Come on then.” His satisfied smirk was still on his face knowing that he won that quick exchange. He waited for you to go to his side, then started walking towards the building.

When you came back to the country, you thought it was odd that still stayed in his previous place. You were positive that he could afford to get a nicer one. Now it made sense. He was saving up for this.

While heading to his unit, you could tell from the interior and the exterior of the building that the price of the place was above average.

Inside the elevator, there was only you and him. He was about to press his floor number, but his hand stopped mid air before putting it down again.

“Wanna guess what floor I’m in?”

“And if I get it wrong?” He didn’t have to say it out loud for you to know where he was going with it. It was one of your gambling games.

“You owe me nothing but the truth tonight.” Your bets were fun and the stakes were always petty but the weight of his stare let you know that the intent behind it was nothing compared to your previous wagers.

He would demand nothing else but the truth from you when you two start to talk about the issue at hand.

You found it strange. Of course, you would be honest. That’s the point of the conversation you’d be having when you reach his unit.

But since he was acting like candor was of great worth to get from you, you’d ask for something of similar value.

“If I get it right, I’m getting your Nekoma jersey. The one with No.1 on it.”

He was obviously taken aback from what you asked for. “Why that?”

“Why not?” You immediately asked back.

He looked at the numbers on the side of the elevators while he scratched the roof of his teeth with tongue.

“I changed my mind. I want all of them.”

“Huh?!”

“The odds aren’t right. There are 40 floors and the chance of getting it right is only 1/40. If you’d think about it, I’m even being generous.”

He clicked his tongue, acknowledging that your point was valid. “Deal.”

You instantly responded without even thinking twice, “22.”

You wished you could’ve captured his reaction.

“You were already eyeing 22, dumbass. Your hand literally stopped in front of that number.” You shook your head as you snickered from that tiny victory, letting it take some of your tension away. “Say goodbye to your jerseys tonight,” you added.

He usually won’t make such a mistake during your gambles. And because he did, you worked out that he must be distressed too.

“Fuck.” He cursed then pressed the button you just said.

“Ugh fine, you can keep one.” You felt bad cause you even though the probability of you winning was low, the stakes for you were basically a given.

The way on his unit was spent arguing on why the deal should be void because it wasn’t really a gamble since you already knew the answer.

On his doorstep, you both hastenly arrived at a compromise of getting only his captain’s jersey, knowing that the inescapable confrontation is about to take place.

When he opened the door, it was nicer than you expected. It was modern looking with its minimalist interior and gray, black, and white tones. Your place was bigger but this looked more spacious because there weren’t unnecessary furnitures.

The click of the door brought you back to why you were here. All the monkeying around a while ago was just a prelude to this and any impact it had on you was diminishing by the second. Things were about to get serious. You could feel anxiety crawling back to your skin.

You didn’t wait for his hospitality and sat yourself on the couch.

He immediately went after and sat beside you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“What?” A frown creasing his forehead from the ‘no’ that came out of nowhere.

“Don’t sit near me. It makes me uncomfortable.” It might have been rude, but you just had to say it. You want your mind working functionally so you can’t have him anywhere near your personal space.

Instead of getting offended, he eyed you with consideration before standing up. He got a chair from his dining area and sat a good few steps away from you. He crossed his legs and arms.

“So?” He proceeded, imploring you to be the first one to open the conversation that was suspended by the vehicle earlier.

“What do you mean ‘so’?” You laughed sourly. “You’re the one supposed to explain things. Do you expect me to just accept what you said a while ago?”

He threw you a questioning look. “Is it really that hard to believe?” “You avoided me for weeks. When I tried to make up with you, you brushed me off cause you were seeing someone else. So my apologies for being so skeptical,” your last sentence full of uninhibited scorn.

“Who said I was seeing her? She’s just a volleyball player I’m working with.” If this was a normal conversation, he’d definitely have some snide comments to go along with it. But he didn’t swerve to his usual smugness. He remained pensive.

You couldn’t think of a decent reply except for an timid “Oh” that came from your mouth. You’re reassured that it wasn’t like that, but it was overpowered by the shame brought by your incorrect assumption.

He didn’t wait for you to recover as he asked right away, “Why did you ignore me after that?”

But despite the embarrassment, your brain was still running its engine properly. So you skillfully evade his query. “You still haven’t told me why you avoided me prior to that.”

He puffed a heavy breath. “I didn’t know how to get back to that friendship bullshit that you wanted so bad.” He uncrossed his legs and slouched with his elbows on his thighs. “Now answer my question,” he commanded.

“Well.. I didn’t want to intervene with whatever or whoever it is you’re busy with,” you said a bit too quickly without explaining further. “My turn again,” you continued on/

“No. I addressed two things from you so it’s still my turn,” he firmly asserted.

You were about to retaliate but he beat you to it with his own question. “How many times have I made you cry?”

It was an abrupt one that wasn’t in line with the previous questions that preceded it. You flinched from how it hit that certain memory you thought you moved on from.

“Never. What gave you that idea?” You denied as fast as you could. He didn’t have to know that insignificant detail. ‘It doesn’t matter’ you told yourself even though you knew it was your pride that wouldn’t let you answer truthfully.

You’re glad to have won the bet earlier. Even though you thought you were going to be completely honest, there were just some details that need not be known.

Heated stares replaced words as both of you waited until the other withdrew. He was glaring at you, looking for an ounce of deceit. Too bad for him though because you have no intentions of folding.

You arose the winner when he’s the first to concede as he straightened his posture from slouching. He leaned back on the backrest of his chair and sighed exasperatedly.

“Man, I’d like to complain, but I guess your tenacity is one of the reasons why I fell for you.”

You were doing so well but with what he just said, your heart is back to the mess it was when he pulled you to him and said he loves you for the first time.

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” His smug grin back to its former glory, making you even more flustered than you already were.

“How can you say things like that so indifferently?” You voiced out, irritated at how he’s so relaxed while youre all wound up.

“Look. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut ever since you came back. Now that it’s out in the open, I’ll say it as much as I want to.”

Did you hear him correctly? He said ‘since you came back.’ When exactly did he start having feelings for you?

“What do-”

“Hold it right there. You don’t get to ask anything yet since your last answer was a lie.”

You groaned. He shouldn’t be allowed to call you tenacious when he’s even worse than you are when he wants to be. “It is not. So let’s move on,” you tried to proceed but he cut you off right away.

“Kenma told me.”

Your solid defiance rapidly chipped from your secret being found out by the person you wanted to hide it from. You could only guess that Kenma told him just now. That’s why he was on a rampant chase to find you.

The earlier gamble made sense now. He anticipated your refusal to admit what happened back then, back before you left. So he wanted to ensure that you would be forthright about it.

Even after losing the bet, his goal was still secured for he had Kenma’s story as proof.

You tried to feel any hostility towards Kenma but you didn’t have it in your heart to do so. You trusted Kenma. He must have had a good reason for telling Kuroo now when he’d kept it well for more than a year.

“Fine,” you said under your breath.

“Too many that I didn’t bother counting.”

Guilt darkened the diffidence on his face. He must not have expected that you would be the type to cry over a guy, especially him who started his relationship with you only as a bed warmer.

But you went on with your previous question since that’s what was pervading in your mind. “When did you realize?” You were really curious since when the feeling has been mutual between the two of you.

“Realize what?”

“That you l-,” you hesitated, reluctant to fully spat out the phrase completely even though he already said it first hand. Looking back, you don't know how you convinced yourself to admit your feelings to him when you’re stuttering from a trifling thing such as this.

“That I love you?”

You staved off away from his perfervid stare, not able to handle it as you replied a brash “Yeah” to maintain your tough façade.

“At the very same night you were supposed to confess.”

You harshly returned your gaze to him. “Was that a joke?” You chuckled wryly. “In case you forgot, I was there.”

You were grateful to Kenma being there at that moment, but it’s different when it’s finally Kuroo you’re confronting. You could feel all the unaddressed bitterness you buried deep inside take over you.

“I was hoping to get an honest conversation. Instead, I arrived at the godforsaken bar,” you continued with a forced smile, “and stood watch as you made that first move to kiss her, how you pulled her close like …. like you couldn’t get enough.” The particular scene tore you back then and it does just the same now. Before you knew it, warm liquid pooled in the corner of your eyes without any warning.

You turned your head sideway and let your hair cover your face.

You didn’t want him to see how your lips quivered as you fend off a whimper that was already at the back of your tongue

You sealed shut any feelings you had for that certain chapter of your relationship with Kuroo. So you couldn’t understand the surge of sullenness that flowed through you. It must be from how paradoxical his narrative seemed.

How could he claim to love you when he enjoyed the sultry company of another?

If Kuroo would think of two words to describe your personality, it would be determined and composed, to the point that you can seem cold and apathetic at times. You were the kind of person who didn’t give two shits to anything you found unnecessary or irrelevant.

Since he met you, you constantly had your guard up as if people will find something awful if they get a tiny peek of what you really are. He couldn’t do something about that. He didn’t have any right to. You two were only fucking around. He later figured out that you didn’t want people to know who you really were - an heiress and a successful model.

That’s why you traded carefully around people.

But when you came back and asked only for friendship, you still had your fences up like you were hiding something. He thought maybe because you’ve had them up for so long that you didn’t know how to turn it off, even for him whom you considered a friend.

So to see you struggling to keep your walls up that were slowly crumbling, he realized why you have a soft spot for Kenma. He’s already seen what you tried so hard to protect.

Disobeying your earlier instruction to not sit beside you, he stood up from the chair and moved to your side.

When you saw him do so, you didn’t say anything. You only raised your hand to nimbly wipe your tears that were already falling. He grabbed your hand you were using and held it still on your lap. He replaced it with his own, drying your tears with his fingers.

It was the least he could do with being the cause of it, and he was glad you let him even though you still kept your eyes away from him.

He trailed his fingers down your jaw and slightly lifted your face so he could look at you. What he saw was unrefined vulnerability, and even then, you wore it beautifully.

He finally understood. That wall you built when you met again was exclusively for him. You guarded your heart from him. You created the friends only set up so you wouldn’t get hurt again.

It made him feel like shit. You really did love him back then, enough to cause you this pain.

“I’m sorry. I was half-assed about it at the time. Nothing more happened with me and whoever that girl was. I just,” he trailed off knowing that the next thing he’s going to say is gonna sound stupid. “used her to see if what I felt for you was real.”

You raised your gaze to him with eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“I know it’s idiotic, okay?” His voice took a slightly defensive tone as you were about to judge his line of thinking back then. “But we were only fuck buddies. I didn’t want to start a relationship with you then realize that I was just confusing the comfort of your company with something as serious as love.”

He stroked your knuckles after he explained.

“I really am sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” His words dripping with remorse from every single tear that you shed for him without him knowing.

“Why tell me only now? It’s been months since I came back.”

“You were insanely driven on being friends only. I didn’t think you feel the same way.”

No one said anything after. He couldn’t tell if you’re aware of it too, but he could feel tension in his every vein as his next question dangled on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you?”

You bit your lip as you averted your eyes downwards again.

“You know the answer to that already.”

Indeed he does. You wouldn’t be this affected if you didn’t. But he has to hear it directly from you. He has to hear you say you love him for real this time.

“I need it to come from you.” He gently held your cheek to guide you back to his gaze. He needs to see the entirety of your face, especially your eyes, when you finally tell him how you truly feel about him.

“I… I-” He could see your strenuous struggle to get the phrase out. You eminently tried as you kept uttering the first syllable but nothing after that. “I can’t say it,” you said defeatedly.

He should be frustrated. He laid out all his cards open for you to see, but you refused to do the same when you had one last face down card that would declare the game over where you both win.

But he held nothing but patience. He could wait for the phrase he’d been longing for as long as he made sure of something.

“You don’t have to if you can’t say it. But I’ll be honest. I,” he let out a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t stand us being friends only anymore.”

He removed his light grasp on your face as his hand travelled to the one that he hasn’t been holding. He lightly squeezed your fingers to get you to heed the attention he needed from you.

“Be my girlfriend, y/n. Be mine.”

If you say no at this point, he’d lose his mind.

With his focus solely on you as he waited for an answer, he saw a subtle nod from you.

“Okay.”

It might seem too simple and bland of an answer. But you two had been going on through ragged stops for a year that he couldn’t care about trivial crap like that.

It wasn’t sweet and he found that perfectly okay. Because it was you. He just needed you to finally let him be more than just fuck buddy, more than a friend.

And when your lips tugged on both corners to form a smile that was directed at him, especially for him, it made his heart soar.

“Is this really happening?”

You had the gall to be skeptical when his actions never hid his affection for you. He just didn’t say it out loud.

“You bet your ass it is.” Instead of his usual shit-eating smile that would’ve accompanied his response, his smile mirrored yours.

You were both happy.

Unable to contain himself, he acted on what always wanted.to without anything holding him back.

He kissed you.

No alcohol and no bullshit involved, just taking in that first touch of your lips as officially your lover.

His hands travel up to your shoulders as he scoots over to have you closer. You taste and feel ethereal. It was unlike any kiss you’ve shared in the past. The ache he had for you this whole time was being lulled by how your soft lips cascaded on his.

His one hand goes up to the base of your neck while he parts your lips so he can have better access on the wonders of your mouth.

You sighed helplessly to the kiss before withdrawing just a bit, your warm breaths still mingling with one another.

“Wait,” you gasped inches away from his lips before burrowing your face on the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, stroking your neck and shoulder to soothe whatever it is that’s bothering you..

“It feels weird.”

“Weird how?”

You lifted your head and looked at him with the most insane blush he’s seen from you. Your cheeks were a rosy fury that highlighted a foreign countenance in your face. Your orbs were glossy and sparkling with a tiny hint of naivety that he’s never seen from you. Your mouth was compressed in a thin line that he could tell was done to prevent the trembling of your lips that was still slightly evident.

He managed to get another unknown aspect of you to surface, and goddamn what a pleasant surprise it was.

He loves your confidence. It was sexy. But bashfulness was an exceptional look on you too. It provided depth to your character which was already fascinating to him to begin with.

He couldn’t wait until he could fully discover everything about you, even the one you still weren’t aware of.

“It’s like I’m overwhelmed by something until I can’t breathe. But I… I like it?” You glowered right after describing it, probably thinking that it sounded asinine.

He was amused and charmed at the same time from how you tried to put into words how he was making you feel.

“You do realize we’ve fucked countless times already.” He couldn’t resist goading further even when he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You don’t say,” you riposted, gaining your smart-assery back to which he laughs at.

“God, I really love you.”

He lunges to claim your lips once more, his need to have more of you back with heightened intensity.

You were getting dizzy from how he was kissing you. It was much more needy than the previous one. You still haven’t fully grasped what just happened and yet he’s already filling your senses, making you forget the tiny insignificant details and retaining only one fact that mattered.

You and him.

His hand on your shoulder wanders down to your waist while you grasp his biceps for support as he pulls you even closer until you were straddling him.

His mouth did not linger too long on yours as it impatiently trailed down your neck, interchanging loving kisses with hungry sucks that stirred your thirst for him.

You remembered some parts of the drunken sex you had, but they were just flashes and blurred images. The sensation from the experience wasn’t retained.

It seemed like a far away memory compared to how he was making you feel at the present moment.

You suddenly feel him slip his hand underneath your shirt, palming your bare skin upwards until it reaches one soft mound which he doesn't hesitate to squeeze.

“Haaaa. Kurooo, wait,” you plead breathlessly. You were getting overwhelmed by how he swiftly fanned the flames of desire that was spreading throughout your body.

His lips left the sensitive skin of your collar and met your gaze with restrained hunger.

“What is it?”

You didn’t know what to say. Did you want him to slow down or just have his way with you already?

He must have noticed your conflict so he decided for you.

He chose the latter.

Both his hands scurried to your hips, guiding you to raise them slightly while his lips find their way to yours again. Not bothering to remove or even tug down your leggings, he slid one hand inside which was welcomed by your slick arousal.

“Why’d you stop me when you’re already this wet?” He asked with pride flickering in his eyes knowing that it was him who caused it.

But he did not let you answer as he shoved one finger in your core.

“Aahh,” your eyes closed shut and your thighs tremble from the sudden pleasure as your hands move to clutch his shoulders to anchor yourself. You rest your forehead on his while puffing heavily.

“Kuroo...” you whimpered.

He steadies you with one hand, but does not relent as he inserts one more digit.

“Hmmm?” You could tell that he was enjoying your wanton surrender just from the way he sounded.

“It feels too much,” you admitted.

“Too much? Oh kitten, we’ve barely even started.”

He took the hem of your shirt and lifted it up. “Bite it,” he commanded and you complied obediently.

He hoists your bra down your chest, exposing your unclad breasts to him. He eagerly takes one perk nipple in his mouth while his one hand goes around your waist. He retacts his fingers inside and rubs the bundle of nerves above your slit in hurried circles that were driving you to the brink of madness.

He was right. This was still foreplay, but you were already so feverish.

Your moans were muffled by how hard you were biting the cotton fabric of your shirt.

“Take your shirt off. I want to hear you,” his voice raspy as he stopped everything he was doing that was making you feel good. You quickly yanked your shirt off so he could go back to doing them right away.

As soon as your top was thrown away, he inserted the same fingers back again and started pumping in and out aggressively.

With his request and the absence of your shirt, nothing was repressing the salacious sounds that were coming out of your mouth

The heat in the pit of your groin was building up too fast. It was a very steep peak that he was rapidly coercing you to reach.

“Feels-ahh-so good.”

He groaned in response. He took out his digits and loosened his hold of you which made you flutter your eyes open.

“Let’s take this to my bed,” he said ruggedly as he was about to get up.

You firmly grasp his shoulders to stop him. “Wait.”

A dash of timidness came over you again which you couldn’t understand. Just like he said earlier, you’ve had a lot of sex. You did things more scandalous than what you had in mind, but you feel flustered just thinking about saying it out loud.

“What is it?”

“Uhh,” you swallowed your nerves. “Do you mind getting your couch dirty?”

He raised an eyebrow from your question, but was immediately followed by a riveting smile upon realizing what you meant.

“Not all,” he took off his shirt then proceeded to unclasp your bra that was still lugged your breasts.

“We can get it dirty as much as we want,” he whispered right in your ear.

Sex with Kuroo before usually ended with both of you scramming to get water or go to the bathroom to clean up. Then when you went back to his bed, both of you just settled down in whatever position you were comfortable in.

Holding each other after sex just was never on the table. No one talked about it and no one initiated so you figured both of you weren’t into it. You weren’t sure about him but you found the act too intimate to do between casual sexmates.

You had no idea it felt this good to be cradled by him.

Your head was nested on his arm that he extended for you. His other one was enveloped around your waist and your face and hands were burrowed on his chest.

“This is nice,” was an understatement that you breathed on his skin.

“Mmhmm. More especially since you’re awake and sober,” he hummed on your hair.

“Hmm?”

He chuckles lightly as he caresses your hair delicately, his fingers sometimes grazing your nape.

“Yeah, I held you like this the night of my birthday instead of going back.”

You definitely had no memories of that. You knew he took care of you, but you didn’t think he got cozy in bed afterwards.

“I thought awww poor you. You seemed like you could use a cuddle. You did beg me to fuck you after all.”

Typical of him, he had to be an ass and ruin the moment.

But you didn’t believe him. You knew that’s not what happened. You did kiss him first and asked him to stay, but you did not beg. Even if you did forget everything, you still wouldn’t believe him. You’re not the type of person to beg.

“Don’t invent stories just because you wanted to feel me up after sex.”

His chest rumbles within your touch as he worked up a laugh from your snappy comeback. “You’re really something, kitten.”

“You’re gonna keep calling me that, huh?”

He cranes his head back a bit, creating some space between you. You could tell he was peering at you.

“Don’t like it?”

You smile at his question. You found the nickname tacky at first, but it kind of got stuck with you. He’s never called you any other pet names other than that and it made you feel like it was solely for you.

“No, I love it.”

You tilt your head up a bit to look at him.

“I love you.”

You were so apprehensive earlier because of the torment that still lingered from the many failed attempts to tell him so.

You thought you would need more time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case as he easily whisked your worries away just by being with him like this.

You were finally able to tell him sincerely in your own accord. You didn’t realize keeping these feelings all to yourself was so heavy that letting it out was such a liberating experience.

As you free your chest with the restless burden of secretly loving him, you don’t feel empty because your heart was filled with content from knowing that he loves you just the same.

It reflects on his face, more so now that his smile is growing broader by the second which was accompanied by a noticeable flush on his cheeks that was illuminated by the dim light of his night lamp.”

“I love you too, y/n.” His eyes exuding profound adoration for you.

“I had my chance to tell you the morning after I got wasted. I just-”

“Hey,” he cut you off then removed his hand on your waist to cup your neck, his thumb brushing gently the curve of your jaw.

“I have you now. That’s all I care about,” the elated smile still not leaving his face.

“I can see that. You look too freaking happy,” you said as revenge for how he ruined your moment just a while ago.

“Well, sorry I’m not emotionally constipated like you,” he quickly outwitted your attempt to mock him.

“You scumbag,” you hissed despite his blissful smile infecting you.

He pulls you again closer to him until your bodies stripped off of any clothing are perfectly molded against each other.

“Yea yea, say whatever you want but I’m the scumbag you love.” Even when you couldn’t see his face anymore, you could still hear how enraptured he was.

And so were you as you snuggled with him until you fell asleep.

“Sorry, I’ll be a little late, kitten. I need to be here for a while even though the game ended already.”

You could hear him scuffling around with the dwindling sound of excitement in the background.

You’re already late from your planned time, but he was running even later. Not that you were upset. You didn’t have major plans or anything. You just agreed to go to his place together since you’re spending the night there.

“You have my keys, right? You can go ahead.”

“I can go there and wait for you,” you suggested since you still have some energy left from the orderly photoshoot you had this late afternoon. Also, you’d just be restless waiting for him at his apartment.

“You sure?” He asked even though you were sure he’s smiling judging from the way he sounded.

“Yup.”

“Okay then! Have to hang up now though. Love you, kitten,” then he ended the call.

It’s been almost a month now since you two were officially together but he sometimes still catches you off guard with how he expresses his love for you without reservations. But you have no complaints.

Upon arriving in Tokyo Stadium, there were only a few people inside, and some of those few are heading out.

Thank goodness for that. Even if you weren’t feeling tired, you didn’t wanna get squashed by Volleyball enthusiasts. It would also make your bed-headed boyfriend much easier to find.

You don’t want to call him just yet. He’s probably still occupied so you’ll just look for him.

As you paced the area unsurely, you were starting to doubt your decision to look for him on your own. You had no idea stadiums had this kind of structure on the inside since you’ve never gone in one. You thought it was just one big open area with elevated benches.

Instead of going inside the actual playing arena, you went to the narrow halls that branched to the sides of the building.

Just before passing a certain corner, someone emerged from a room that you weren’t aware was actually there.

“Oy Hinata, I’m going ahead if you keep being a slowtard,” a tall, dark-haired man aggressively stated before walking towards your direction.

“Kageyama, you impatient turd!” A bright orange-haired guy, who’s probably called Hinata, came out right after, hurrying to go after the dark haired one who’s most likely Kageyama.

Before he could even pass you by, you lock eyes with Hinata.

A snap of familiarity hits you both.

“Waah. Ms. Pretty!” He said in English, completely and overwhelmingly affable that it was almost adorable.

Oh right, you spoke in English the first time you met.

“Hello.” You smiled politely, still holding up your non-Japanese speaking facade.

Kageyama stopped walking and turned his attention to you. He bowed then looked at Hinata. “You know her?” He asked in Nihongo.

“Not really. But it was kinda funny, Kuroo-san called her ‘kitten’ but she didn’t really know him,” Hinata grinned from amusement only but Kageyama didn’t respond.

Hinata frowned and took a semi defensive stance. “You better not tell Kuroo-san I said that.”

You just alternate your gaze between the two men, deciding whether you should admit that you could actually speak Nihongo and that you’re looking for Kuroo or just let things play out as is.

“What’s the noise all about?”

Another set of recognizable faces turned up - fake blondie, curly, and black and white.

It wasn’t hard to guess why they were there. They were athletes. They weren’t just guests in the event. They were most likely brand ambassadors too, except for Kageyama. It’s the first time you saw the man.

They must be part of the national team. Kuroo did say it was an international match today.

Fake blondie’s face lit up as soon as his eyes landed on your face. He quickly made his way to approach you, passing by Hinata when he did.

“You lost, pretty girl?” It contained everything Hinata’s previous compliment lacked, pure flirtatiousness together with a come-hither smile.

So the Volleyball national team can somehow speak English. Although, they still retained their heavy accents.

You studied fake blondie in front of you and quickly decided that you wouldn’t date him even if you haven’t met Kuroo. The guy’s hot, but he seems like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Someone who you didn’t have to identify by his hair entered the scene, Yaku.

You wave reservedly at him for you still haven’t forgotten how you acted around him the first you met.

“What’re you doing here?” He, then, turned to fake blondie. “Cut it out, Miya-san. I’m certain she’s not interested.”

“She can’t understand Nihongo, Yaku-san.” Black and white appeared to be whispering but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear..

Yaku threw him a confused look. “What? I met her around two months ago. She’s a local, Bokuto.”

The Miya person scowled, “Geez. Could’ve saved me the trouble.”

You just ignored him and shifted your attention to Yaku.

“I’m looking for Tet-” you cleared your throat. He’s been pestering you to call him ‘Tetsu’ every single day until you just succumbed to it and it became normal to you. You almost addressed him as such to these people who you presume he’s working with.

“I’m looking for Kuroo.”

Yaku raised an eyebrow with intrigue twinkling on his whole face. “Oh?”

“Mmmhmm,” you answered obscurely.

“You friends or somethin?” Miya asked with an ounce of wariness, changing your initial thought of him being an idiot.

Yaku grinned. “They’re just friends,” he answered for you, obviously anticipating whether you’d agree or not.

You weren’t ashamed of dating Kuroo, but you’ve had some kind of weird interaction with these people that involved Kuroo, save for Kageyama obviously. Poor guy must be confused at the novelty of what’s happening.

From behind Bokuto and the curly haired guy whose name you still have no idea what, the man you were looking for presented himself and walked towards you.

Those he passed by had their eyes lingering on his back with Miya being the last person to notice him since Miya is the closest to you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he puts a possessive arm around you, “ but this lost lady here is my girlfriend.”

You tried to hold off a smile, but it was futile. You didn’t expect that announcing it to other people was that gratifying after more than a year of consistently telling people otherwise. .

Damn it feels good to be more than just friends with Kuroo.

A/N”

I want to cry. This was my very first fic and my very first series as well. I'm so happy to see it through and finish it.

I'm thinking of an epilogue maybe next year, but for now, I'm marking it as completed.

I love you all.

Part 9 || Epilogue || m.list

taglist (thos in bold and crossed out can’t be tagged)

@lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @arendizzle @phantomneko0 @ysatrap @babythotshq @ameliaxo @miiy @kurooscoochie @lucifers-luv @suikrem

#kuroo smut #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu series #haikyuu x reader

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