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ayamturd · 3 years

Text

brother│sbi family

summary: y/n will always stand by their brothers no matter the hardship or challenges they should overcome in the end.

song: Brother by Kodaline

warnings: angst to fluff(?), cursing, blood/gore descriptions, death, slight spoliers for dsmp

pairing: in-game platonic!sbi family

a/n: i heard this song the other day and knew i had to give it a try (give it a listen!). also, each section/scene change is supposed to show a period of growth for the reader, both in age and confidence wise. as always, pls feel free to comment or give feedback!

wc: (4.1k) - m.list

When we were young we were the ones

The kings and queens oh yeah, we ruled the world

“Techno, wait!”

“Keep up then, slow poke!”

Technoblade and y/n were running through the village, laughing like madmen while jumping over the hay bales serving as their mini obstacle course. They were passing the time while Dadza finished his tradings with Wilbur, him volunteering to assist in hopes of exploring the market place. As they continued their chase, Technoblade began to gain a lead; his long limbs giving him a far unfair advantage against his smaller sibling. He was nearing the local well in the town square, and y/n knew they would have to take drastic measure before he could claim victory.

Quickly assessing their surroundings, y/n grabbed the first product they could snatch off the closest stand. They beamed it at Techno, the potato hitting him on the back of his head, causing him to falter and trip over his hooves. Y/n leaped over him, grin wide when hearing the vendor and their brother yell after them.

“Y/n! What gives?!” Technoblade scrambled up in a hurry, rushing to meet their stride. Y/n only cackled, shouting back, “hey, it’s like you once said, ‘What the ancients called a clever fighter is one who not only wins, but excels in winning with ease.’”

The sun beamed down in the late afternoon, yet y/n was too driven to notice. They reached the center square and rang the bell, signifying their win. “I regret teaching you the ways of Sun Tzu.” Technoblade was panting with his hands on his knees; he had tried to catch up given his fall slowing him down, but ended up running in vain to his defeat.

“Ahh you don’t mean that now, do you?” Y/n climbed up the well and jumped on Technoblade’s shoulders, forcing him to adjust to the sudden weight while they gripped his pink hair. He grunted, “I do if it means you beating me.” Y/n giggled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll always remember your miserable loss as the origin of my success.”

“Gee, thanks.” Despite their bickering, the two children held large smiles, snickering while spinning carefree and contently. They tuned out the world, purely existing in the moment while conquering each trivial challenge at a time.

We've taken different paths

“Come on, y/n, you’ve got to let go some time or another.” Y/n clung onto Wilbur’s side, curled into his chest while the lanky man hovered his arms above them.

“Not until you hug me back, you jerk!” Wilbur sighed, pulling them in again. “I already hugged you in the house. We’re not gonna be here for another 10 minutes, right? You know how impatient Tommy can be.”

“Alright, fine you dickhead. I’ll let you go. See if I care the next time you want a hug,” y/n huffed. They pulled away in haste and crossed their arms, turning away from him completely.

“You’re such a cry baby, s’not like we’ll be gone forever. Can visit and shit,” Tommy spoke up, walking towards the pair with his saddle in hand.

“Shut up, bitch. I won’t miss you anyway, I was talking to Wilbur.”

“Like hell you won’t!”

Wilbur stepped between the two, hand on Y/n’s shoulder and a push to Tommy’s face. “Maybe it’s best that we’re leaving, y/n. Tommy’s obviously influenced you too much.”

“Why the hell you say that like it’s a bad thing?!”

“Ugh, God please no.”

Despite all odds, y/n was the shortest in the family compared to all the boys. They were forced to look up at Tommy while he glared down at their smug face.

Phil came forward from the house and chose to stand besides y/n. “I’ve only just gotten them to leave, don’t tell me you’re holding them down any longer.” Y/n muttered a small no. Wilbur and Tommy looked offended at the comment, and Phil only chuckled at the sight. “You’ll see them soon, y/n. You know they’ve been waiting for the opportunity to explore, and one day you’ll take your chance too.”

“Yeah, I know,” y/n sighed and leaned into Phil’s side. They were openly pained to have their brothers leave their home, disliking the idea of their family separated, yet they knew they didn’t have the right to stop them from their ambitions.

Phil checked over their supplies once more before patting their shoulders with encouraging words. Giving them room, the brothers mounted their horses and pulled the reins to the East, taking one final glance at their home. They both waved and rode off.

The sun laid above the horizon, strips of color spread across the sky as night began to fall. Though they were too far to hear, y/n waited a moment before speaking. “Till next time.”

And travelled different roads

“You can’t be serious.”

“You rather I leave them to die?” Technoblade was packing, grabbing his best weaponry and stuffing rations into his satchel. Although contemplating to bring his armor, he opted out of it in favor of traveling light. Y/n was trailing behind the large piglin, eyes irritated and upset.

“How can you say that? I’m only concerned on why you think a revolution is what they need right now!” Technoblade spun around at their words, standing above them menacingly. Any rational person would be afraid if it weren’t for the fact that they grew up together.

“Y/n. You and I both know there’s a reason they called me and me alone. I’m going there to help and do what is ask of me. What else do you expect from all of this?” Technoblade spoke steadily, his chin still raised while his eyes looked down at them. It only angered y/n more.

“What I expect, Technoblade, is for you to be their brother and help them! Be their brother for once and not just ‘the Blood God’!” Y/n emphasized each point with a jab to his chest. It was rare for the two to fight at all, them being considerably close and maintaining the same idealization for the most part.

Techno only narrowed his eyes before grabbing y/n’s wrist. “We’ve talked about this, y/n. Don’t act like you don’t understand the difference between ‘the Blood God’ and myself. Don’t act like there is a difference at all.” There was a slight pause as y/n’s eyes widen at their close proximity, Technoblade having had moved closer towards their face.

“… you’re hurting me, Techno.” Glancing down at their hands, Technoblade immediately let go and grabbed his crossbow behind y/n, leaving the room as if the conversation never happened. Y/n was quick to follow him before he left the house.

They screamed out, “This isn’t right, Techno! For their sakes, you and that tactical brain of yours should realize that at the very least!” Technoblade stopped near the exit and tilted his head to the left, a brief silence before speaking. “If you weren’t so afraid of the world, you could always go save them yourself.”

He slammed the front door close at that, leaving a still y/n in shock at his words. The night was dead quiet as y/n stood there for some time, a ringing silence impeding the air. Phil came down the hallway from his room, tired yet aware of the situation; he was admittedly awake during the argument. “Are you alright, dear?” His voice was soft as he was unsure of y/n’s current emotions, their back to him while facing the front door. Y/n turned towards him with teary eyes.

“No.”

And when you're in the trenches

And you're under fire I will cover you

“Ya’ know what, Wilbur?” Tommy was sitting on a furnace, Wilbur leaning against the cavern walls across him. They were both eating dinner together in the dark, dimly lit and empty space, the only sound coming further down the cave where Technoblade farmed until Tommy spoke up. Raising a hand to chew, Wilbur swallowed before asking a what?

“I’m getting real sick of potatoes.” They both laughed at that, temporarily finding joy in the small joke before fading back into a helpless silence. They were still reeling from their situation; no home, no friends, no government to stand with. While they were in the presence of their brother, Technoblade was focused on their main goal: revolution. Even through perseverance, the brothers couldn’t help but feel exhausted from the efforts, the previous war having taken a toll in spite of the approaching age of a new one.

“I miss home,” Tommy expressed, eyes trained to the ground. Wilbur stared at the boy before looking down at the baked potato in hand. “Me too.”

A sudden noise came from above, as if someone broke down their stone entrance. Although Pogtopia had gained an underground support from the citizens of Manberg, their location was still undisclosed to the others, secret letters and Tubbo being the only communication. Grabbing his sword, Tommy nodded to Wilbur and headed up the steep stairway. Wilbur briefly looked up and ran to warn Technoblade of a possible intruder.

Weapon in hand, Tommy creeped up the path determined. Footsteps echoed underground and Tommy paused to push himself against the wall. The light of a lantern glowed ever so brighter with each approaching step behind the corner above. Right as he rose to strike, a familiar voice spoke out.

“You’re not seriously going stab me now, right?” Tommy’s gaze shot up to see his sibling smirk at his surprise. “Cause that would suck after traveling this whole way to see you idiots.”

Tommy laughed breathlessly in disbelief before shouting their name for all to hear. He ran up to quickly embrace them and pulled them down to meet the rest. Technoblade and Wilbur visibly relaxed at the sigh of the two, weapons dropping to their side.

“You’re here,” Technoblade stated, his eyebrows raised unexpectedly. Expression neutral, y/n only spared him a glance before looking to the side. “I’m here.”

Wilbur ignored the small tension and walked forward, a soft smile at the sight of them with his arms raised. “Am I still allowed to ask for that hug?” Y/n grinned and let him engulf them in a hug. They squeezed his torso tight while they swayed slightly side to side. Tommy, elated to see his sibling for the first time in practically years, vocalized his excitement loudly behind the embracing pair.

“Are you here to help us fight?!”

Y/n hesitated before turning back to smile wearily, “I’m here to help you in any way I can.”

If I was dying on my knees

You would be the one to rescue me

“You want to be a hero, Tommy?”

The battlefield was suspended in apprehension, everyone amassed on the small platform above the caved in trench. Standing before them, separated by the broken landscape, Technoblade held large, black skulls in each hand. In front of him, two structures of sand guarding his sides. He was perched over them, eyes red in blood-like fury with tusks that pointed in pride and determination. Y/n gaped in horror at the sight, whispering a small no that fell on deaf ears.

“Then die like one!”

A sudden light blinded the field, Technoblade having had completed the ancient ritual due for destruction. Before anyone could collet their thoughts, a small force pushed everyone back. Strong winds blew as dust covered the the terrain, and from the ashes of white fire rose two mythological beasts with holo eyes and a grotesque body of dark bones. There was a beat of stillness before chaos erupted.

Yelling and panic ensued as some began fighting the monstrosities while others worked to kill those preventing the end. Y/n felt lost as others pushed and pulled them every way. They tried looking for their brothers, crying out their names in the frantic space, but could no longer define anyone in the tumultuous crowd overwhelming them.

By the time they were able to separate themself from the group, a building hum penetrated from above. Explosions descended around them as they became trapped by the blasts. Arms covered and crouched close to the ground, Y/n was helpless to the wither, and they stared in dread as the creature began to glow to attack once more.

Before they met their final end, however, colors invaded the sky and erupted against the wither’s side. It roared in rage at the measly ambush and turned to find the source. Y/n was still frozen in the futile position, but was hoisted from behind and dragged up the small crater entrapping them.

Technoblade let go of their weight once on solid ground again and stepped away immediately. Y/n, wheezing from the realization they could have died, turned to look up at their brother while still laying on the ground. Arms beneath them, they struggled to raise their head to him.

“Why, Tech,” y/n exasperated, eyes begging for a justification for more destruction beyond that of their recent brother’s death. Tears fell in anguish of the devastation around them. “Just why?”

“Not everyone can be saved. Not everything is worth being saved.”

And if you were drowned at sea

I'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

“Come on Toms, stay with me now.” Pulling with all their might, y/n grappled the thin boy through the water as they fought to swim against the current in the rising dawn. As they crawled onto the sandy shores, the heavy weight of being completely soaked left them restless on the beach. Taking a moment to breathe, y/n gathered their strength before rushing to Tommy’s side.

“Come on, Tommy. You can’t do this to me now.” Y/n laid him completely flat and started to push his chest in rhythmic beats, shoving down as hard as they could to save him.

He was already incredibly pale from the cold depths of the water, and y/n could only assume he had been in the water for some time before they arrived.

Every so often they would glance to discern any movement or change but would go back to focusing on reviving their brother entirely. As more time passed and Tommy refused to move, Y/n grew frustrated and speed up their pace harshly, tears clouding their vision despite their resolution. “Please, Tommy. Please. I can’t lose another one of you. Not again.”

With a sudden twitch, Tommy jerked before coughing up water and trembling with the rush of air to his lungs. Y/n looked up to the green horizon and closed their eyes in relief, tears streaming down their cheeks before they reached down to hold the boy close. Gently bring him into their arms and caressing his long wet hair, Tommy continued to draw breaths with his arm hung limply around them. He clutched the fabric on their shoulder, whimpering in a small voice,

“Y/n? Are you really here this time?” Y/n squeezed him tighter.

“It’s really me, Toms. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”

And if we hit on troubled water

I'll be the one to keep you warm and safe

“This is not a trial, Technoblade.” Quackity motioned to the anvil strung above the stage, beaming at the seething piglin through the bars of the cage. “This is an execution. We are going to kill you.”

Hidden beneath the breath of night while under the effects of the invisible potion, y/n observed from the roof of a nearby house. Although they kept their distance from everyone in their family besides Tommy, y/n couldn’t ignore the apparent ‘Butcher Army’ when they passed through the forest where they were collecting wood, their brother strung behind them as if on a leash.

Y/n glared at the immaturity of the young boys, despising the belief that more death will create peace in a land built on bloodshed. While their relationship with Technoblade was rough considering their last encounter, they couldn’t deny the fact that he had a right to hold his certain principles and acted out in aggression to the others’ mistreatment; though arguably to an extreme.

Their gaze shifted when the mercenary, Punz, announced his arrival with thrown snowballs and began spreading TNT as an apparent distraction. Deciding to aid in the diversion, y/n pulled arrows out of their quiver and aimed to target the boys when they tried to assault him.

“Where the hell did that come from?!” Fundy screeched out in revelation after barely managing to dodge an incoming arrow to the leg. Despite all efforts, Quackity realized their intentions and ran to pull the level. As he let out a joyous shout, y/n dropped their bow in fear, eyes trained on the falling anvil before it was meant to strike and scrambled to their feet. To their astonishment and utter relief, a faint, green glow emitted once Technoblade was supposedly killed. The Blood God had escape death. What a surprise.

Y/n watched as Technoblade climbed swiftly out of the cage and followed a green figure mounted on his horse through a tunnel hidden beneath a stone hill. They knew from pass whispers and Tommy’s harsh words that it was the warrior, Dream, having had only seen the daunting smiling face in a blur during the war. They were aware of the torment the man had caused to their family, both in the war and in Tommy’s exile.

Sliding down the tile roof, y/n jumped off the building and maneuvered their way down, ignoring the stare of their imprisoned father on top of the nearby balcony as the potion’s effects started to fade. They noticed Quackity trace the foot steps of Technoblade’s hooves, and stalked behind him as he entered the small hole. Pausing before leaping in themself, y/n looked up to see Dream already staring down at them, arms crossed and in wait.

He stared at them expectantly, which made y/n’s patience wear thin once hearing Quackity lowly state how he planned to kill Technoblade then and there. Narrowing their eyes in annoyance, y/n gave Dream a final glare and blocked off the entrance once entering.

They pulled out their axe and treaded quietly down the tunnel before pausing behind the broken wall to an old vault full of chests.

“—nd I don’t care how long it fucking takes me, or what I have to do to get you, Techno. I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“I just have on question, Quackity.” Technoblade paused as Quackity asked him to continue.

“Do you think you’re enough, to kill me? Even unarmed, with iron armor?” They both ever so slightly gripped their weapons tighter, stance shifted as they prepared to fight.

“You know what? Let’s fucking find out, you son of a bitch!” Their weapons clashed as they dodged the blow from one another. Quackity delivered each blow with blind determination while Technoblade played defense with each graceful side step. Eventually, Technoblade knocked his pickaxe into his face, Quackity yelping in pain and holding a hand to cover the wound.

When turning his back to move further down the tunnel, Technoblade risked leaving himself vulnerable to the crazed butcher. Quackity stood despite his injury and tried to attack him from behind.

Y/n took the opportunity to run towards him, axe prepared to strike. Before Quackity could turn to defend himself, y/n swung the axe into his neck. Blood instantly pooled at the cut as he struggled to breathe, and y/n ripped their blade from his flesh. He fell to his knees while grasping helplessly at his wound, choking on his blood before falling to the side.

While they had a distaste for violence, unlike their brother, y/n couldn’t excuse the attempted murder of their family by any means.

Technoblade stared in reverence, eyes darting between Quackity’s slump figure and his sibling covered in an excessive amount of blood from the attack. Y/n stepped forward and grabbed a lead from their belt, having previously found it abandoned in the snow. No words were exchanged as they silently pulled Carl through the sewer system, blood casually staining the water as they walked through. Technoblade only spoke once they reach the surface.

“Pog.”

And we'll be carrying each other

Until we say goodbye on our dying day

“Are you alright, y/n?”

Broken sobs become shuddered breathes as y/n hears the voice of their late brother. They lifted their eyes from beneath their arms that held their legs together while pushed against the very corner of the room, their current position reminding Ghostbur how small anyone could look when upset. Ghostbur slightly frowned at their lack of response, floating closer to them to observe their tears, lighting the space slightly with a soft glow.

“What’s wrong?” Despite the innocence behind his echoed voice, y/n couldn’t help the pain from hearing his concern. “Nothing that matters, Ghostbur. Nothing that anyone could fix anyway.”

Ghostbur didn’t like that response, refusing to believe that sadness could exist without a solution to bring an end to despair. He reached into his pocket, hands carefully holding some dye out towards y/n.

Y/n tilted their head in confusion, tears having stopped running but still present. “What is it?”

“It’s blue! Here, here, take some.” Ghostbur placed the colored substance into their cupped palms, explaining its significance with a gentle smile. “See, when someone is very angry or sad, the blue sucks away all your sadness and turns blue! And what you can do, is you can throw the blue away, and that’s all your sadness gone.”

Although strange and futile, y/n couldn’t help the smile form on their face from Ghostbur’s clarification. Ghostbur gasped excessively, causing y/n to chuckle lightly. “It worked! Do you feel better now, y/n? I have more blue if you need as well!” Pulling an incredible amount that began to pile on the floor in front of them, y/n giggled at the sight.

Y/n wiped their eyes with the back of their hand, breathing in and out to recollect themself. “Thank you, Ghostbur. Never change your wonderful self.” The ghost grinned brightly at that.

“Of course, Y/n! Never change your caring self either!”

Oh brother, we'll go deeper than the ink

Beneath the skin of our tattoos

“I have to ask, Y/n. Why choose them?” Y/n stood before Dream in their kitchen, the man having had shown up unannounced at their front door and began asking vague questions.

“What do you mean?” Y/n was unnerved by his demeanor, never having held a conversation, let alone utter a word, with him before despite small, yet silent encounters. They refused to show discomfort, though they didn’t have a mask to cover every waver in their voice or their jaw visibly tighten.

“Oh, you know.” He turned to walk around the small living space, hand skimming over a chest surface before continuing to speak ominously. “Time and time again, I’ve seen you run and fall to your knees for your so-called family. Yet as time continues on, I’ve seen them give you nothing in return.” He paused and faced them again. “What’s the point of saving something that does nothing but hold you down?”

Though we don't share the same blood

Y/n crossed their arms in defiance, finally understanding his intentions and glowered at his objective.

“You wouldn’t understand, Dream. Even if you tried.” He looked confused at their response, tilting his head slighting while his masked continued the same haunting smile. Y/n smirked.

“Your seen weakness gives me strength. I fight for everything because of them. Your lack of attachment leaves you nothing to gain.” Dream bent forward in mocking interest, though y/n knew better than to give in. “Is that so?”

“You tell me. Who will come running to your aid when your lies eventually catch up, and everyone realizes the things you’ve planned behind their backs?”

“I have my ways. Ways that insure I’ll have people on my side when I need.”

Y/n scowled before stepping forwards, leaning into his face. “Say whatever you need to say to comfort the idea of your downfall. I don’t care about you or your motives, leave my family alone or I will personally see to it you meet your expected end before its fated to happen.” Dream let out an amused breath in response. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise."

You're my brother and I love you that's the truth

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp fanfiction #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #sbi x reader #sbi x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #brother!tommy x reader #brother!wilbur x reader #brother!technoblade x reader #sbi x gn!reader

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comfortwriting · 3 years

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Coming Clean - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Prompt 93: “I’m in love with you, I can’t hide it anymore and I don’t want to.”

Prompt 98: Shaking out of fear, he took hold of your hand, comforting you.

About: After being injured due to an explosion during the wizarding war, you are a patient in St. Mungos for months trying to recover. One day, your best friend Fred comes to visit you after realising life is too short for secrets.

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, bombings/explosions, wounds, scars, disfigurement, swearing, blindness, weight loss, death of family member, fluff towards the end.

One moment you were duelling with a death eater, shielding your best friend Fred from harm's way, and then the blast rang out, shooting you backwards, slamming you down, and the wall in front to collapse on top of you.

Alive? Dead? Inbetween? You didn't know.

You couldn't remember what happened after the blast, all you did know was that you were far away from Hogwarts, with no news or clue on the status of your family, friends, and Fred.

You felt numb, alone, scared, and in a different world - you heard small talk of the war, you heard of the casualties and injuries but you didn't know who - you felt enraged that you ended up here and not at Hogwarts, laying on the cold hard floor surrounded by those you needed now more than anything.

"Miss Y/L/N, please stop touching your face." Your nurse sighed, pouring a dark slimy potion into a cup.

Shrapnel grazed, pierced, and embedded into your left cheek, leaving a large gaping wound, another blinded you - your legs broken beyond repair and re-growth because of the collapsing wall which meant the skelegrow was no longer strong or fast enough to work on cases like yours, and your whole body covered in purple, green, blue, and yellow circular marks that made you feel like a Polka-dot fabric.

"How long have I been here?" you grumbled and winced weakly not wanting to move your mouth too fast or wide, slowly picking up the cup.

Your nurse opened the curtains with her wand, swishing it across the room, rearranging your Quibbler magazines, Daily Prophet Newspapers and 'Get Well Soon' cards which you couldn't yet read - you were too scared to find out who did and didn't make it.

"We've talked about this Y/N-"

"Just tell me!" you shrieked, cracking open the wound on your face, jolting, causing shockwaves to pulse through your body.

Your nurse swallowed hard and sat down on the bed next to you, gently cleaning the trickling blood and scabs from your cheek with a damp cloth.

"Three months," she sighed.

Your heart dropped. Three months. Three months without hearing your parents voices, Fred's voice, your little sisters-

"How long will I be here for-"

Before she could answer, a knock at the door interrupted you.

Your eye followed your nurse as she stood up, opening it narrowly and slipping out, before slipping back in.

"You've got a visitor," she smiled for the first time since you got here.

Moving out of the way, Fred walked in, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you.

Fred looked different, his eyes were lifeless and were sheltered by deep dark circles, his face was more gaunt, his hands covered in scars - possibly from deep grazes and cuts from the same explosion.

Fred didn't know what to say, the sight of you broke his heart - you were injured beyond repair - you were so badly injured and left disfigured because of him not being brave enough to step in front and take charge.

The nurse left the room, closing the door behind her, your hospital room so quiet you could hear each other's hearts pumping.

"Freddie-"

Fred walked over and sat on your right-hand side, wanting nothing more than to pull you into a tight embrace, to smell your hair, to feel your skin against his - but being too scared to cause you more pain than he already has.

"I'm so sorry," he croaked, holding your hand "Look what I've done to you."

You shook your head "It's not your fault, Freddie." you said softly "The death eaters, they-"

Fred started to cry and shake, completely coming undone "I was too scared, I allowed you to step in front, you took the blow for me-"

"Fred, please, slow down," your eye started to well up with tears, your face hurting, the lump forming and settling in your throat.

"George is dead because of me."

Your heart stopped.

George? George Weasley is dead?

"Fred! I need you to cover for me!" You yelled out, sending out more sparks to the death eater.

Fred couldn't focus, he didn't know where to look or what to do.

"Fred!" You yelled again, "George needs either you or me, please!"

The death eater closed in, holding out his wand and aiming towards George - before you could think of the next step, you pushed Fred behind you and sprinted towards George to try to protect him.

The blast, the force, the heat, the smoke, the wet blood, the darkness.

"You tried to save him, and all I did was stand there... and the wall..." Fred cried "George just... he... we thought you were dead too,"

"It isn't your fault," you cried "Please listen to me."

"Professor Lupin and his wife Tonks, they're gone, Ron's ex-girlfriend Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Professor Snape... and your-" Fred paused shaking out of fear, he took hold of your hand, comforting you "your little sister."

You couldn't breathe - how could you after finding out so late? Taking one blow after the other. Losing your best friend, your mentor, the young boy you were fond of, the professor who despite being hard on others helped you, and worst of all, your innocent little sister who you pleaded not to go to war.

"I'm so sorry," Fred cried, his eyes bloodshot.

You nodded, tears streaming down your face "I'm sorry too."

The two of you cried whilst Fred told you everything, who else died and how, what his family and yours were going through, the funerals, everything but one.

Fred read the Quibbler magazines to you, stroking your hair and helping you drink down the potion, you could see out of the corner of your eye he was debating his thoughts.

"What is it?" you asked, chewing the inside of your lip nervously, preparing yourself for another blow.

Fred stayed quiet for a moment, pursing his lips before he finally looks you in the eye.

"After losing so much, it's made me realise that time is too short." he said sadly, still in deep thought before finally revealing “I’m in love with you, I can’t hide it anymore and I don’t want to.”

"Fred," you smiled softly "I've been thinking exactly the same thing."

taglist: @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @inglourious-imagines @sebby-staan @lucymfer @xmalfoyweasleyx @livvysnaps @supermassiveblackhope @youralternantpersonality @snivellouss @potters-heart @onlyfreds

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #the golden trio

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evening-starlight · 3 years

Text

Warm Beers

Taglist is open! Dm or comment to be added.

I’ve decided to put this story on an schedule! Monday, Wednesday, Friday.

This also takes place before Season One

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

Word Count: 1478

Shoupe watches his daughter run around the house like a chicken with her head cut off, smirking into his coffee cup as Kenzie nearly trips up the stairs while trying to put on her shoes. "Can't go to work if you're dead, Z," Victor calls up as he makes his way to the front door after it rang. He smiles as she gives a sarcastic laugh from the bathroom.

When he sees JJ behind the door, his smile falls. "What do you want, Maybank?" He asks, blocking the doorway as JJ takes a peep inside.

"Well, sir, I was wondering if Ken could come out and play?" He asks, smiling up at Kenzie's father innocently. Shoupe rolls his eyes and opens the door, calling up to his daughter.

"Z, your little friend is here to play." Kenzie's dad turns to the boy again. "She's upstairs. Don't touch anything on your way up," He waves off the boy and goes back to the kitchen. As much as he didn't like McKenzie hanging out with the Pouges, he would tolerate it over some Kooks he knows.

JJ skips upstairs, looking around for Kenzie. She comes out of the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, shorts unzipped, and only a bra over her chest. The surprised noise she makes is muffled by her brush, not expecting JJ to be here this morning. "Good morning, Ken," JJ laughs, wiping toothpaste off her chin, trying hard not to look down. Sure, he's seen her in a bikini before, but this was way more intimate.

McKenzie waves hello with a muffled good morning before dipping back into the bathroom. "Where are you going this early?" JJ asks but only gets a waiting finger in response. The boy leans against the doorframe and watches as Kenzie struggles to brush her teeth and hair with opposite hands. "Jesus Christ, Shoupe J.," He laughs, taking the hairbrush from her so he can help her in her hurry.

Her hair is soft and silky, easily untangled in JJ's hands. He's felt it before, but this time it felt different. Like the clouds were in his hands. JJ finishes brushing the delicate hair and holds it back as his friend goes to spit. "Thank you," She says breathlessly. "I got called into work today," Kenzie explains as she pushes past JJ and towards her room quickly. "Half the staff called out because someone spiked the punch at last night's Kook party with laxatives. So now I have to cover for six fucking people on a damn Saturday."

McKenzie continues to rant as she pulls the Kildare Surf Shop shirt over her head. The dress code was extremely lax at work, so she turned the ugly unisex t-shirt into a cropped tank, feeling better with fewer clothes in the shop with a broken A/C. She looks over at JJ with pleading green eyes. "Pray for me because I will die today. It's supposed to be one-hundred degrees and prime Touron season." JJ laughs and pulls her into a tight hug.

"You'll be fine, Ken. I'll bring the gang around to hang, okay?" Kenzie nods into his chest, careful not to smudge her makeup. "Need a ride?" He asks. McKenzie looks up at him, eyebrow arched as she smiles up at JJ.

"Is that just an excuse so that you have to pick me up?" JJ makes a thinking face, looking away from Kenzie as she continues to smile.

"Mm, yeah, it is," JJ admits, making Kenzie laugh before pulling away from him.

"Fine, but you're buying me lunch today," McKenzie laughs, grabbing her phone and butterfly pattern backpack. Then, with a quick hug to her father, Kenzie runs out of the house behind JJ.

She stops in her tracks when she sees JJ swing his foot over his bike. "What's the matter, scared of a little motorcycle action, Princess?" McKenzie can't help the slight shiver that runs down her spine at the pet name. She walks up to JJ, snatching the helmet from his hands with a huff. JJ smiles and starts the cycle up and takes off when Kenzie sets her hands on his hips.

JJ can't help the wide smile that spreads across his face as Kenzie slips her arms around his middle tightly, resting her cheek against his shoulder as they zip through traffic and towards the main shop. The rumbling in his stomach begins again, annoying JJ to the bone.

It was ten in the morning, and he hasn't drunk anything yet. Maybe it was that he didn't eat before speeding to the Shoupe household or drink water. Who's he kidding? He never drinks water.

The disappointment when JJ sees the surf shop come into view is confusing, considering he loved everything about that store. The feeling is heightened when McKenzie pulls her arms off his middle when he parks out front.

"Thanks for the ride, J. I'll see you at lunch?" She asks, pulling the helmet off. The way her brown hair, with slightly sun-bleached ends, cascades down to her shoulders as she shakes her head makes his stomach churn even more. He really needs some food and fast. JJ's at a loss for words for an unknown reason, so he just nods his head. Kenzie giggles and speed walks into the store, opening the door for some tourons.

JJ can't tear his eyes away from her retreating form until the door closes behind her. He shakes his head clear of the blur and drives off towards the chateau until McKenzie's lunch break.

The two hours leading up to Kenzie's lunch break seem like torture. JJ has an insatiable need to be by McKenzie that just seems to grow the more he hangs out with her. He just wants to be near her and feel her skin on his. There was nothing more JJ needed than to have McKenzie Shoupe next to him at all times.

He all but bursts through the shop doors, takeout bag in hand and eyes searching for his favorite girl. His eyes find Kenzie, but his chest tightens at the sight of her twirling her hair for some jackass touron in a leather jacket. She giggles and brushes his arm slightly at whatever lame joke he said.

Kenzie was absolutely flirting with the boy in front of her. He was handsome, and she had a weakness for leather jackets. His blue eyes danced in the shop light, and his jawline was sharper than her wit. "How about," She starts, getting a paper and pen. "When I get off at four, you give me a call, and we can go surfing together?" Kenzie asks as she jots down her number.

As the boy, Theo, leaves, Kenzie sees JJ standing in the corner, scowling as the boy passes him. Kenzie quickly taps her co-worker's shoulder and informs him she'll be in the back with her friend. "J," She calls, pulling JJ out of his angry stare down. He follows her into the back room, smiling at Kenzie's co-worker as he passes.

"Who was that idiot?" JJ asks, sitting across from McKenzie in the break room. She giggles and pulls her food out of the bag, starving after having nothing more than half a protein shake for breakfast.

"Why, Maybank, jealous?" Kenzie teases, biting down into the burger and moaning as the taste dances across her taste buds.

"No, just didn't peg you as the touron type, Ken," JJ says, biting into his hamburger as well. She snorts and covers her mouth to stop the food from coming out.

"For being my best friend, you sure don't know much about me, JJ," Kenzie says. JJ rolls his eyes, not really wanting to talk about her sex life. "You know how many times I've taken a touron back to the chateau during parties? Or literally in the woods, J?" He chokes on his food, staring at Kenzie with wide eyes and tries to ignore the tightening in his jeans.

"Didn't know my best friend was a kinky whore," JJ's words come out harsher than he meant, immediately looking up for forgiveness. Kenzie stares at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. They stare each other down, neither blinking. "Ken, I am so sorry," JJ starts. His best friend's smile shows through her facade, making him stop. She starts to giggle and soon laughs with her head thrown back.

JJ can't help but laugh along, Kenzie's laugh being contagious. "JJ, it's not like," Kenzie says between breaths. "I haven't heard you in the bedroom with tourons either." She brings a fry up to her mouth, staring JJ in the eye as her's glint with sarcasm and mischief. "Daddy."

JJ chokes on his spit, not expecting that word to come out of McKenzie Shoupe's mouth. "Shut up," He mumbles, focusing on the burger instead of the constant tightening in his jeans.

Taglist: @gwenlovesharrystyles @x-lulu

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letssingintherain · 4 years

Text

mirage ➵ d.m.

sequel to empty dreams!

pairing: draco malfoy x y/n (slytherin)

summary: you struggle dealing with the breakup with blaise and draco's secret crush becomes painfully obvious. after one night of drunken confessions, your relationship with draco is pushed to a breaking point.

contains: 4.1k+ words of angst, fluff, and a sprinkle of ~tension~. a few curse words.

song recs: up in this - blackbear & tinashe (for the party scene), tomorrow tonight - loote

The alarm clock went off at precisely eight o’clock in the morning.

You groaned as you rolled around in bed without opening your eyes, throwing your hands around trying to locate the alarm. The clock’s screeching got louder the longer it was ignored and you heard it hop around the dorm, waking up the rest of the girls.

“Someone please stop it before my ears start bleeding.” You gave up trying to look for the accursed clock, hoping someone else would help out.

Daphne covered her ears with her pillow and gingerly kicked the leg of Pansy’s bed. Pansy’s hair was in a ruffled braid as she sat up slowly and groggily pointed her wand to the direction of the noise.

“Bombarda.” A dark jet of magic blasted the nightstand where the clock had hopped behind with a loud bang, completely obliterating the clock along with the nightstand and denting the stone floor underneath it.

“Pansy!” You yelped, rushing over to check how much damage was done. The corner where the nightstand previously stood was now pitch black and covered with soot. A small pile of burnt wood let out soft billows of smoke and a tiny piece of the enchanted clock trembled on top of it.

“We said stop it, not destroy the entire room!” You said incredulously. Daphne chortled while clutching her pillow to her stomach, bending over in fits of laughter. Pansy started wheezing too, fully awake now, “Sorry, it was the first spell that came to mind! And it worked pretty well, didn’t it?”

All three of you laughed until you were borderline crying, finding the situation extremely hilarious.

It felt nice to laugh with your friends because it seemed like all you were doing lately was cry and wallow in your misery. A month had passed after Blaise broke up with you, and you swore you saw his eyes linger on a Ravenclaw girl when the houses shared classes.

You were assaulted with a plethora of emotions everyday, ranging from anger and jealousy, to heartache and gloom, to disappointment and bitterness. You hated that Blaise had this effect on you, and you especially hated that he seemed completely fine.

After finally getting the laughter out of your system, you walked over to clean up the messy corner. It was clear that the nightstand and the alarm clock were damaged to the point of no return, so all you could do was get rid of the remnants and scrub the area with your wand.

You finished freshening up the area with a content smile and backed away in time to hear someone knocking hastily at the door. Daphne dashed off her bed and skipped over to open it.

You were all surprised to see Draco standing at the doorway. The tall platinum-blonde boy wearing a clean white tee with baggy gray sweatpants was peering anxiously in the room, as if he was expecting to see some terrible monster.

His outfit triggered a memory in the back of your head, reminding you of when you accidentally cuddled with him thinking he was Blaise. You blush a little at the memory, remembering the feeling of him pulling you tighter and his head resting on yours.

You then unintentionally reminisced about the many nights where you sneaked into Blaise’s bed. “Can’t think of anything without reminding myself of that asshole,” You thought bitterly.

Draco briefly met your eyes and you noted the gray-ish blue hues. What you didn’t notice was his quick glance over your pajamas and his slight blush.

“What was that noise?” Draco asked inquisitively, casually leaning against the doorframe since he couldn’t enter the room. You all share amused glances.

“Pansy blasted our clock to smithereens.” You disclose and couldn’t help but giggle at the statement. It somehow sounded sillier when you said it out loud. Pansy threw her pillow at you, embarrassed that her antics were being put on blast.

“What’d I tell you mate, I knew Parkinson was the source of the noise.” Theodore popped up behind Draco, smirking at the three girls. Pansy crossed her arms indignantly, “And I knew we couldn’t go an hour without hearing some snarky remark from Nott.”

You and Daphne roll your eyes, not ready to hear their bickering this early in the morning.

Draco let out an amused breath from his nose, “Alright, if there’s nothing wrong I’m gonna go change into my Quidditch uniform. We’re going to make the Gryffindors wish they were never born.” He winked playfully at you before turning around to head back to his room. You felt heat rush to your face at his cheekiness.

“Draco paced outside the room for like ten minutes before knocking, by the way,” Theodore grinned, walking backwards with his hands in his pockets so he could face you all while talking. “Poor bloke looked like a first-year standing outside a girl’s dorm.”

“Shut up, Nott!” Draco yelled from the Common Room.

You all chuckled lightheartedly, enjoying the joking atmosphere. Today was Slytherin’s quidditch match against Gryffindor and even though you dreaded seeing Blaise play for the first time after you two broke up, you couldn’t help but give in to the contagious excitement radiating from your friends.

You brushed through your [y/h/c] hair and took your Slytherin jumper out of the tall mahogany closet. You smiled at the sight of Daphne and Pansy chattering excitedly as they put on makeup and silently declared that you wouldn’t let Blaise ruin your perfectly good day.

...

You shivered as you held on to Daphne and Pansy, pushing through the crowd of other students to get to the front of Slytherin’s Quidditch stand. Theodore stood in front of you three and helped part the way, mumbling to himself, “Can’t believe I’m the only guy in the bloody friend group who isn’t on the Quidditch team.”

You laugh lightly at his remark, pulling your heavy coat tighter and tugging your green and silver scarf to cover the bottom half of your face. The winter air was biting and merciless, blowing your hair in various directions.

“What a terrible day to have a Quidditch match.” Daphne complained while attempting to keep her headband from moving out of place.

“I really hope the guys will be okay.” Pansy looked at the gloomy sky worriedly. You follow her gaze, frowning at the weather. Then you see peeks of green enter the field right before they soar into the air.

You all whoop and cheer the loudest you could for Slytherin’s Quidditch team. The team passes the stand briefly and your eyes meet Blaise’s brown ones. Your heart dropped at the indifference they showed. He used to blow cheeky kisses at you and even perform goofy tricks on his broom just to see your amused expression. Now his eyes are devoid of showing any emotion towards you, as if you two never dated.

Theodore winced, clearly feeling the tension. Pansy slapped him lightly on his arm, not wanting to bring any attention to the situation.

You couldn’t stop the tears from pricking your eyes or the feeling of your throat closing up. Daphne pulled you a little closer and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. You gave her an appreciative smile before standing up a little taller and straightening your jumper, remembering your determination to not let the sight of Blaise ruin your day.

Tears fill up your eyes but you lift your chin up defiantly, wanting to gain some control of your emotions. You look up to the flurry of green that was the Quidditch team just in time to see Draco zooming past the stand. He gave you all a little wave before directing a wide-toothed grin at you. Your friends noticed this and teasingly rattle you, exclaiming at this special treatment.

Your friends have been more than supportive after the breakup. They made sure that you didn’t dwell on negative thoughts and that they were always there for you when you needed to vent your emotions. However, Draco was especially sweet. When you all visited Hogsmeade together he made sure to pay for your butterbeer and all of your snacks from Honeydukes.

“You know, if you really like these types of gummies tell me, because Mum gets them imported from Germany.” Draco says in his best attempt at a casual tone and gestures to the small pile of gummy worms he was helping you carry. He shifts them for better balance and looks down to meet your eyes.

You pursed your lips and smiled at him. “Mrs. Malfoy must have great taste then.”

Your eyes crinkled at the fond memory and you quickly wiped away the tears sliding down your face, forcing a wide smile on your face. You joined in with the boisterous cheers and resolved to focus on the game that was about to start.

...

The impact of Slytherin’s victory against Gryffindor was pervasive.

No one could focus in class, whether they were giddy about the win or sulking about the loss. Even the professors were not immune from the effects; a third-year swore they saw Snape offer a glimmer of a smile when he was talking about the Quidditch win.

As the night rolled around, students in the hallways discussed excitedly in hushed murmurs about the insane party that was bound to happen in the dungeons tonight. Admittance would be extremely selective, if not impossible, for students in other houses.

Draco and Blaise sauntered down the fleets of stairs to the dungeon, obviously about to be the stars of the party. Draco unbuttoned the top few buttons of his white long-sleeve shirt from his uniform and had his green tie hanging loosely around the collar along with black slim-fit pants. Blaise also wore his white button-up shirt but rolled up his sleeves and tied his dark jumper around his neck.

After they reached the end of the last set of stairs, Blaise stopped short of the entrance and leaned against the stone wall. Draco raised an eyebrow quizzically at his actions.

“I invited the Ravenclaw girl that I told you about. She’s pretty fit, don’t you think?” Blaise smirked and turned his head to check if anyone was coming.

Though he knew Blaise tended to be pretty careless, he didn’t expect him to have such little compassion for your feelings. Draco snorted in disbelief, “You do realize that Y/N’s going to be at the party, right?”

“So? We broke up like a month ago, so it’s not like I’m cheating or anything,” Blaise crossed his arms defensively, eyeing Draco with curiosity. “Why do you suddenly care so much?”

“Because she’s our friend! You can’t just treat friends like this, Blaise!” Draco frustratedly threw his hands up in the air.

Blaise fixed Draco with a stare without saying anything for quite a while. “I think you fancy her.” He finally concluded.

Draco blushed, but didn’t deny his claim.

“It’s okay, mate. I mean, you don’t have my ‘blessing’ or anything weird like that, but I wouldn’t hate you if you made a move on her.” Blaise shrugged, half amused and half nonchalant.

Draco let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He leaned on the stone wall across from Blaise and the two remain in that position for a while, both deep in thought.

“I really did like her. Y/N, I mean.” Blaise looked up the stairs, avoiding eye contact with Draco. “But it’s not about that. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever settle down.” He stared into the distance at nothing in particular.

“So I guess I didn’t want to waste any more of her time.” Blaise gave one final shrug before spotting the Ravenclaw girl he invited walking down the stairs. He smiled at the sight and began to walk up the stairs to greet her before looking back at Draco.

“See you later?” Blaise flashed a wide grin at Draco. Draco couldn’t help but return the grin, recognizing the obvious delight on Blaise’s face.

“Can you at least try to avoid flaunting her in front of Y/N?” Draco requested.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do my best.” Blaise rolled his eyes and proceeded up the stairs, leaving Draco to enter the dungeon alone.

...

Meanwhile, two Slytherin girls from the same group are having a similar discussion.

You and Daphne were adding final touches for the party as muffled sounds of bass-heavy music seeped in your dorm room. Pansy had already left to god-knows-where accompanied by Theodore, so it was just the two of you.

You swiped on lipstick before skillfully smudging the edges. Daphne glanced at you briefly as she brushed through her hair, obviously wanting to say something.

“Daph, you’ve been looking at me at a rate of about five times every minute, and I’m very flattered, but please tell me what you’re thinking about.” You finally face Daphne in the large vanity mirror you were both looking at, curious about whatever was occupying her mind.

Daphne sighed and set down her vintage hair brush. She contemplated before choosing her words carefully, “I think...Draco might fancy you.”

You set down your lipstick on the counter, not sure how to respond. You also have felt the signs that Draco’s actions weren’t exactly platonic, but you avoided facing it because you didn’t know how to.

It’s not like you didn’t find Draco attractive. Honestly, there probably wasn’t a single girl or guy in your house who didn’t find him attractive. There was something about his disdainful yet charismatic personality that set him apart from everyone else.

But the breakup was only a month ago and it was still way too soon for you to catch feelings for anyone else.

“I think I’ll just deal with it when I absolutely have to.” You sigh, checking the mirror a final time to make sure everything looked right. Daphne didn’t push a response from you and put on a layered silver necklace.

You admired how your dark green spaghetti strap dress accentuated your curves while still looking casual. She looked fit as well, wearing a dark green button-up crop top with a white tennis skirt. You both had black tights on to better fit the dress code of the party.

You initially wondered if you were overdressed but you kept the tight dress on since you wanted to leave an impression on some people.

"Ready to go?” Daphne tilted her head towards the door of the dorm, smiling mischievously thinking about the night ahead of them.

You returned the smile and headed in the direction of the thumping bass, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Let’s get fucking wasted.”

...

The party truly lived up to the hype, with hundreds of people jostling each other in the common room. The entire space reeked of sweat and alcohol, and the music was almost deafening.

You sit alone on a wooden table with your legs crossed as you sipped firewhiskey, taking a break from dancing. Your brain buzzed from your drinks and you lost count of how many shots you’ve taken. The place was so packed that you barely saw anyone from your friend group throughout the entire night. There were quite a few tipsy boys who asked to dance, but you coolly declined all of them.

It took a very specific type of person to catch your attention.

A crowd near the fireplace hollered, apparently egging on someone from the Quidditch team. The group of people in front of you part momentarily and you catch a glimpse of a tall boy with white-blonde hair chugging down alcohol.

Draco finished the bottle and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The students around him proceeded to take shots to accompany his feat. As if he felt you staring, he turned and met your eyes. The crowds of dancing people seemed to move in slow-motion and the music sounded muffled for an instant as you two simply looked at each other, neither person breaking eye contact.

His eyes went wide taking in your appearance and you felt your heart involuntarily skip a beat as his eyes glance over your body. You saw his Adam’s apple bob down as he took a gulp and you couldn’t help but feel a boost of confidence.

He set the bottle down and dismissed the people around him, making his way through the crowd in your direction. You slowly grazed the rim of your cup with a lazy finger while maintaining eye contact with Draco. His jaw clenched as he approached you slowly, stopping about two feet away.

“Hey, Y/N.” He cleared his throat slightly.

“Hey, Draco.” You put down your cup and looked up at him through your lashes, enjoying your impact on him.

“You look...stunning.” He let out breathlessly and kept respectful eye contact, fighting the urge to look down.

“You don’t look too shabby yourself.” You tugged on his loose tie to pull him close enough for your noses to almost touch. You knew you were being reckless, but the alcohol in your bloodstream emboldened you and demanded you to act on your desires.

Draco almost tripped before pressing his hand on the wall behind you, trying to avoid falling on top of you.

“Y/N, you’re drunk.” He could almost taste the alcohol wafting off of your body since he was barely five inches away from your face.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You reply in a lilting tone. You kept your hold on the tie and admired the color pairing and expensive material in a drunken haze. Draco’s eyes flickered down to your pouty lips, suddenly very conscious of the proximity and his hammering heart.

You finally let go of his tie, amused at his flustered expressions. Draco stood up and straightened his tie, his porcelain face tainted with shades of pink.

“Hm, who would’ve known that the Slytherin prince could be so hot and bothered?” You teased and reached out your hand to ruffle his already messy hair.

He held on to your wrist before leaning down to smirking at you, suddenly gaining back his usual assertiveness. “I can be whatever you want me to be, princess.”

You were about to give a snide retort before you spotted a familiar face entering the common room.

Blaise held the hips of a girl, whispering in her ear as they made their way through the crowd.

Draco noticed your change of expression and slowly let go of your wrist. He turned around and realized what had caused the change. You froze on the table, unable to look at anything else but the sight of your ex-boyfriend with a new girl.

Tears blurred your eyes and you saw the memories of Blaise dancing with his hands on your hips overlapping with the cruel reality of him dancing with another girl. He had clearly moved on, yet you were still stuck on the past.

You abruptly chucked your cup of firewhiskey at the floor and leaped off the table before Draco could stop you. You stormed towards Blaise, overcome by the urge to confront him.

His back faced you and he had his arm around the Ravenclaw girl’s waist as he chatted loftily with some Slytherins. You tapped his shoulder and he turned around, looking a little surprised but otherwise unbothered.

“Fuck you, Blaise.” Tears started streaming down your face and even though you knew your mascara would be smudged after you finished talking to him, you didn’t care. There was so much more that you wanted to get off your chest, but it took such a toll out of you just to utter those two words that you could only say them in your head.

Fuck you for making me feel special. Fuck you for breaking up with me and rubbing it in my face with another girl. Fuck you for being so goddamn emotionless when I feel like I’m shattering inside.

Blaise finally had the decency to look a little apologetic, “I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know you would care this much.” The girl eyed you curiously, making silent assumptions.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed at the awkwardness of the situation. The people around you went silent, observing the interaction apathetically. Feeling ashamed at your outburst, you flipped Blaise off and headed out the common room.

You stepped into the stone hallways of Hogwarts and took in a sharp breath. The freezing temperature was unforgiving against your bare skin and you were rash enough to not bring a coat. You hugged your sides and stubbornly took a few steps up the stairs.

“It’s kind of dumb to not wear a coat in this weather, Y/N.” You felt the warmth of a heavy garment over your shoulders and you look over to meet Draco’s stormy gray eyes.

You scoff, embarrassed that he had to watch everything but grateful that he decided to follow you out with a coat.

“You’re kind of like my Prince Charming, you know?” You gave him a closed-mouth smile as you wiped the tears off of your face.

“I’d be honored to be your Prince Charming.” He grinned as he tucked his hands in his pockets and matched your pace up the stairs.

You two walked together down the hallways in silence until Draco asked where you were going.

“I want to see the flowers,” You confessed sheepishly, pulling the coat tighter so it wouldn’t fall off you. You lifted up the side of the coat and sniffed softly.

“You always smell good, Draco.” You complimented and looked over to check his expression.

He blushed and muttered under his breath in a noise level that only he could hear, “You too.”

...

You hummed happily as you laid down on the springy grass. The grass was wet with condensation, but you really didn’t mind. Draco acted like it took all of his willpower to lie down and winced when he felt the grass dampen his clothes.

The enchanted wisteria tree extended down its flowers to gently tickle your faces and the star-studded sky peeked through the branches. Silver beams of moonlight glimmered in the darkness, giving the entire garden a tranquil ambience.

You laid there in the grass for a while, feeling your brain sober up and your emotions calm down. Draco, on the other hand, was starting to feel the full effects of the bottle he downed earlier.

"I’m sorry for everything Blaise put you through.” His cheeks were pink as he turned his body to face you, propping his head up with a bent arm.

You stiffened, not ready to talk about Blaise.

“Draco, I really don’t want to talk about that right now.” You hugged the coat and shivered despite the thickness of the clothing.

“I just wish..” His eyes stopped on your face fleetingly before turning back to lie on his back. He didn’t finish his thought.

The long strands of wisteria flowers shake as a sudden gust of wind blew through the garden. A dark gray cloud hid the moon, surrendering you both to the dark and chilly night.

You begin to get up, wanting to go back to the common room since it was getting even colder and the sky looked like it was about to rain.

“Y/N, wait.” Draco sat up and held onto your hand, his cold metal ring pressing lightly into your palm. You turned your head to look at him in a puzzled manner.

You two locked gazes as rain started to drizzle, wetting your hair and coating your skin with a fine mist.

“Give me a chance.” He finally let out. His stone gray eyes were full of silent determination and yearning, and you could tell it took a lot out of him to say those words.

Your heart ached at his genuine request. You longed to trust him and let him take care of you, and almost wished that he could’ve asked before the entire mess with Blaise occurred. But now irrational doubts clouded your mind and you couldn’t find the courage to accept his plea.

“How am I supposed to know you won’t be like Blaise?” You whispered, gently withdrawing your hand.

How am I supposed to know you won’t lead me on with false promises and leave me a broken mess of what I used to be?

“But how would you know if you never tried?” He said almost timidly, his blonde hair slick and messy. You shook your head with a heavy heart and took off the coat to place it delicately next to him.

“I’m sorry, Draco.”

And with that you left him lying in the wet grass, alone except for the heavy coat that smelled like a mixture of both your perfumes.

a/n: i decided to end this part with some good ol’ angst.

on another note, i was not expecting empty dreams to do so well! it makes me so happy to know that so many people enjoyed reading my writing. please let me know your thoughts on this part!!

thanks for reading! <3

-k.z.

taglist: @allaboutthatdrummer, @isletsoflou-gerhans, @teardropjohnny, @thefandomplace, @justmesadgirl, @secretaccshh, @reaganwonders, @kelly182001, @i-ran-out-of-fanfics. (shout out to the first people i’ve ever tagged)

you can put yourself on the taglist for this mini-series (or other taglists) through this form!

#lsitrfics #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco angst

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Seven: How Sweet It Is

a/n: Welcome back friends! Thank you again for tuning in for another chapter of YBMH. It has been so much fun to talk to you lovelies and hear your thoughts, so keep them coming! I have to give a very special thank you to the wonderful @duckyficrecs for all of the love and amazing commentary so far, I really appreciate you!! Happy reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: unrealistic standards of men (sorry)

Word Count: 6.8k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, and six

Alani’s eyes peel open and she squints at the clock on the bedside table that reads 8:53 a.m. The sun creeps in gently behind the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft, warm glow that pales in comparison to the light inside her chest. As she inhales deeply, the arm strapped across her midsection rises, but it doesn’t budge. Alani turns over carefully to face Harry still sound asleep with a light snore escaping from his parted lips. She fondly observes every detail of his serene features, from the tiny freckles atop his cheekbones to the curl of his eyelashes. As her finger glides along the slope of his nose and the indentation of his cupid’s bow, Harry stirs lightly and his arm tightens around her waist with a contented sigh. Alani drapes her leg over his hip and presses a feathery kiss to the middle of his brow that causes the edges of his sleepy mouth to twitch.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she coos and Harry’s eyes flutter open slowly.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he replies with a deep rasp in his voice.

She massages his scalp gently and he hums, planting a sweet kiss to the spot just over her heart.

“Y’hungry?” Harry murmurs against her skin.

Alani’s stomach growls in response and they both giggle.

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Need a shower first,” she decides, sitting up.

Harry groans at the loss of contact, but he manages to secure a hand around her wrist. “Ten more minutes,”

“Nice try,”

“Five?”

Alani grins before burrowing under the covers again with her cheek fit snugly against Harry’s chest. His knuckles skim over her arm as he fights the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids.

“Did y’dream anything?” he mumbles.

“I did,” she admits apprehensively. “But I don’t know if you’re gonna like it,”

“Why not?”

“Well, I sorta dreamt that I was married to James Marsden—the guy from The Notebook,”

Harry laughs gently. “Lucky bastard,”

“What about you?” Alani deflects, peering up at him with curious eyes. “Any dreams?”

“Not really. But I did wake up a few times in the middle of the night ‘cos you were hogging all the blankets,”

“I get cold!”

“Uh-huh.”

Alani presses her chilly toes against Harry’s shins and he grimaces, peeling himself out of the bed to escape her icy touch. With a self-satisfied chuckle, she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slips away to the ensuite bathroom, chin held high as Harry trails close behind.

********

Harry digs out a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his closet for Alani to borrow, and although it’s a small gesture, the sight of her in his own clothing fills his entire body with euphoria. He holds out a white t-shirt with the Volkswagen logo on it and a pair of grey sweatpants that she accepts gratefully. While she slips into his clothes, Harry puts on a pair of running shorts and a black hoodie with the image of Earth and the words “Spice World” on the front. Next, he digs through his drawers and produces a red bandana that is used to keep the damp hair out of his face, but Alani has already braided her wavy locks before he can find a similar garment for her. Harry extends a hand and Alani interlocks her fingers with his as they set out for breakfast.

“Why don’t you go pick out some tunes?” He suggests when they reach the kitchen. “There’s a record player in the living room,”

Alani wiggles her brows and gives him a quick peck before venturing out ito the other room. Her eyes immediately land on a wall full of vinyls, and she excitedly browses them with delicate fingers. The Zombies, Bill Withers, and Sam Cooke are among the first in the collection, but her eyes widen when she spots a familiar blue cover. Joni, she gasps, pulling the record out of its sleeve. Alani quickly switches the player on and navigates the needle over the first track on the disk, turning the volume up and filling the room with the sound of a folk guitar. Harry’s ears perk up in the other room and the music brings a wide grin to his face. A few moments later, Alani reemerges in the kitchen, her hips swaying; she reaches out for Harry’s hands, which are occupied with the switches on the stovetop and a carton of eggs. He puts it down and gives Alani a twirl, which elicits a playful giggle that tugs on his heartstrings. His hands settle around her waist while her arms weave around his neck. They sway for a moment, hips flush with one another, before another soft kiss is exchanged.

“Looks like I don’t need a ‘kiss the cook’ apron after all,” Harry jokes lightly, their noses still touching.

Alani rolls her eyes with a scoff. “You haven’t made anything yet,”

“That’s because a certain dancing queen keeps distracting me,”

“Fine,” she starts to pull away but Harry immediately ropes her back in.

“Not yet,” he smirks, lifting her with a quick spin. Alani shrieks and her arms tighten around his neck.

“I see the lovebirds are up,” Mitch grumbles, the heel of his hand rubbing his tired eyes.

The pair conceal their laughter and put a bit of space between each other, though Harry instantly misses Alani’s touch.

“Morning, Mitch,” she says sweetly.

The guitarist forces a smile on his face and reaches inside the fridge for a bottle of water. “Morning,” he returns, padding back to the hallway. “And keep it down, you crazy kids. Some of us are hungover and not in the lovesick way.”

Alani’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, mom.”

Harry snickers and he returns to the stove with a gentle shake of his head.

They scarf their breakfasts down with legs woven together under the table and fingers interlaced. While their meals are identical, they take turns feeding off of each other’s plates and stealing sips of the other person’s drink. Harry feigns annoyance over the spilt orange juice on the t-shirt that he lent to Alani, though a part of him hopes it will leave a stain as a subtle reminder of this moment. It amazes the both of them just how quickly they had fallen into a shared rhythm, as if breakfast was a sacred ritual engraved into their muscle memory. But despite the natural ease that comes with each other’s presence, there is an impending sense of dread looming over Alani and Harry’s heads about the inevitable end to their domestic bliss.

“I should probably get back soon,” she sighs, thinking of her younger sister waiting alone at the house.

His stomach turns. “Do you have to?”

“Afraid so. Need to check on Pua and Freddie,”

Harry nods with a small sigh and collects both of their plates. “‘Kay,”

Alani follows him into the kitchen and her arms delicately wrap around his torso from behind when they reach the sink. “Are you upset?” she asks timidly.

Harry’s heart cracks, racked with guilt over his petty behavior. It wasn’t her fault that she had to leave eventually, and it wasn’t right to take his disappointment out on her. He turns his back to their dishes and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

“No,” Harry assures her with a soft, dimpled smile. “Could never be upset with my sweet girl. Just gonna miss you.”

Alani’s chest stirs at his words and she slots her needy lips between his. Now that they had tasted a little less than twenty-four uninterrupted hours together, being apart for more than one moment seemed near impossible. Harry’s fingers slip inside the back of her shirt, and his nails gently graze the outline of her spine with a sly grin.

“I don’t think I’ll have what she’s having,” Jeff teases, sifting through a bowl of fruit on the counter. Harry grits his teeth and makes a mental note to plot revenge on all of his friends later.

“Good morning,” Alani offers shyly, pulling away from his warm touch.

Jeff smiles and waves with a banana in hand. “Buenos días. Always good to see you, Alani.”

“You too,”

He whistles a cheerful tune and roams into the living room, leaving the pair alone again.

“I think we better go before we get caught.” Alani jokes weakly.

********

The Range Rover pulls up slowly in front of Alani’s house and Harry’s grip on her hand tightens as he puts the car into park.

“Where’re your parents?” he wonders aloud, reaching in the backseat for a spare bag that Alani can use to carry her clothes in.

“Mom had a big surgery this weekend, so she stayed at the hospital to keep an eye on her patient. Dad is in California on this chef’s weekend trip with, like, Guy Fieri or something. Just me and Pua until tomorrow night,”

Harry hums, watching her stuff her belongings into the bag. “You working?”

“Yeah, I close tonight,”

Damn, he swears to himself. There go his plans. “What’re you doing until then?”

Alani shrugs with her hand already on the door handle. “Chores, I guess. You?”

“Probably nothing,” Harry sighs. “Missing you.”

She grins and presses an affectionate peck to his cheek. “Ditto, sunshine. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“I won’t miss it.” The new pet name makes his stomach twist, but the butterflies quickly turn to stones when she slips out of the car.

Alani begrudgingly treks down the stone pathway when she hears loud music coming from the car behind her. Turning quickly, she spots Harry peeking over the roof of the SUV with the song “Baby Don’t Go” by The Supremes blaring from his speakers. She shakes her head playfully and blows him a kiss before retreating back to her house; He catches it in his palm and presses his palm to his lips. The song is still playing softly when Alani closes the door and she momentarily considers throwing all caution to the wind by inviting him inside.

“I’d ask how your night went, but I think half the block knows that answer now,” Pua smirks with arms crossed as she descends the stairs.

Alani offers a sheepish smile and clutches Harry’s bag to her chest. “Morning,”

“Are those his clothes?” her sister questions.

“Yeah,”

“Okay that’s really sweet, actually,”

Alani shuffles through the house to make sure that everything is still in one piece and Pua follows close behind, anxious for all of the details about her older sister’s date. “So I wanna hear everything, but you can spare me the making out parts,” she insists.

“What? Harry didn’t give you the rundown already?” Alani pokes. “I’m assuming you’re the one who told him about Angelo’s,”

“It may have come up once—casually, of course,” Pua admits.

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but the confirmation that Harry had conspired with her sister melts her heart. “Well then, I guess I owe you some thanks for a perfect night,”

“It was all his idea,” Pua maintains with her hands raised in surrender. “But it was? I mean, really perfect?”

“Straight out of a movie,”

“He has that way about him, doesn’t he?”

Alani’s mouth curls gently. She couldn’t describe Harry’s allure better if she tried. “He really does,”

“I can’t believe it,” Pua muses with a starry look in her round eyes. “My sister is dating the Harry Styles. I can practically hear the millions of hearts shattering over the news,”

Out of all the thoughts running through Alani’s mind these days, the public’s response to her blossoming relationship with Harry was apparently last on that list. Fame hardly seemed to be the focal point of his life given how little he had to say on the subject, thus it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a celebrity, especially when they were alone. But despite his reluctance to open up about stardom, it’s a conversation that Alani figures she should prepare for.

“Speaking of,” she begins, making her way upstairs. “What are his fans like? You know, what should I expect?”

Pua considers it for a moment, searching for the right words. “Passionate I guess. Loyal,”

“And they’re all in love with him?”

“Can you blame them?”

Alani chuckles lightly and her chest swells as she reflects on her growing feelings for Harry. While she had initially wanted to believe that he was no different from any other guy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand by that judgement. His immense thoughtfulness was evident long before he had whisked her away for the evening of her dreams. Afterall, what famous person willingly agrees to help a stranger with their homework? And then there was Harry’s boyish charm and tenderness that no leading man in any romantic comedy seemed to rival in Alani’s opinion. Could never be upset with my sweet girl, his words echo.

“No,” Alani exhales, her throat tightening with a sudden sense of longing. “I really can’t,”

Pua squeals and envelops her sister in a warm embrace. “God, I’m really so happy for you both. My favorite singer and my favorite sister,”

Alani hugs her sister tight and it temporarily quells the ache left by Harry’s absence. “Me too.”

“But if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

********

“Hey Harry, what do you think about Maui?” Jeff proposes, typing into his phone. “The resort’s got a private pool for every room,”

Harry blinks with a faint smile still on his lips. “For what?”

“Next weekend, maybe. Glenne and Jenny are thinking of meeting us there,”

The thought of going an entire weekend away from Alani makes Harry’s brows furrow. He was going on just five hours now and it was complete torture.

“Can’t,” he says quickly. “I’ve got—”

“You can bring Alani,” Jeff reassures him with a knowing smirk. “But you two gotta promise you’ll socialize,”

Harry blushes and his chest aches at the sound of her name. “I’ll ask,”

“Don’t make me say it,” Mitch threatens from the sound booth. Harry’s head tilts, challenging his friend to continue. The drummer clears his throat and coughs into his closed fist. “Whipped,”

“You’re just jealous that your girlfriend couldn’t make the trip ‘cos she’s too busy being a badass rockstar,” Harry shoots back coolly.

“So we’re dropping the g-word, huh?”

The singer casts his eyes down at the guitar in his lap and fiddles with the strings to occupy his hands. “Dunno,”

“He’s got it bad,” Tom teases, turning to Jeff Bhasker with a dramatic outstretched hand. “Alani, my dearest, how could I ever live without you?”

“Oh, Harry.” Jeff raises his voice a pitch.

Tom drops to his knee, clutching Jeff’s hand to his chest, and the group erupts into laughter. “Say you’ll be mine at once!”

Harry relinquishes a shy smile and a dry laugh at his friends’ antics in an effort to be a good sport. “Very funny. Oscars for you both.”

His idle fingers continue strumming the guitar gently as everyone else dissolves into their own conversations. The phone balanced on his thigh pings, and though the notification has nothing to do with Alani, Harry decides to check in.

Harry: How’s the weather?

He can’t think of anything particularly witty to say, but the mere action of sending her a message keeps him from dissolving into a puddle on the floor.

Alani: Google is free, you know

Harry: Ouch. Trying to tell you that I miss you here :(

Alani giggles at Harry’s clingy show of affection. Truth be told, she also misses him deeply and resents the fact that she has to work instead of staying snuggled into his side all day. The smell of his shampoo lingers in her hair and it twists the knife deeper. She decides to snap a silly photo of herself, eyes crossed, and sends it off to him.

Alani: Missing you too, my little pocket of sunshine ☀️

Harry’s heart nearly bursts from his chest when he opens the attachment, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He quickly saves the photo to his phone before setting it as his lock screen.

Harry: My god you’re going to be the death of me

Alani: The feeling is mutual

It takes less than five minutes of admiring the photo for Harry to decide that he can’t go any longer without the real thing.

Harry: What time does your shift start?

Alani: 5 minutes

Swiping his wallet and keys, Harry slips out of the studio without another word.

********

Alani ties her hair up and adjusts her apron as she heads out into the busy restaurant. She quickly falls into a rhythm of taking orders, clearing tables, and filling drinks while the minutes in her eight hour shift tick by. Before she knows it, an hour has already passed and her mind is completely occupied with her guests, but a familiar voice sticks out among the buzz of it all.

“Excuse me, miss?” Harry pipes up from the counter, a bouquet of sunflowers emerging from behind his back. “Think these are for you,”

Alani fights back a smile, but it’s no use. She accepts the flowers gratefully and raises them to her nose.

“Why, thank you. They’re beautiful,”

“They’ve got nothing on you,” he suggests, leaning in closer over the counter. His eyes dart to her lips in silent prayer, but Alani clears her throat and scans the busy scene around them.

“Can I get you something?”

Harry peruses the menu with a serious dent between his brows. “Hmm sure, I think I’ll have the Chef’s Salad—dressing on the side—a lemonade, and a kiss,”

Alani smirks, accepting the menu from his hand. “The kiss is extra,”

“Make it two, then,” he offers expectantly, but she shakes her head in disapproval.

“Kissing the waitresses isn’t allowed,”

“Well what if I don’t wanna kiss a waitress?” Harry counters. “What if I wanna kiss my…”

He intentionally trails off to read Alani’s reaction, but she suddenly feels flustered by the implications of his statement and turns on her heel to put in his order. “I’ll go get your lemonade.”

“Alaniii.” he complains, watching her back away. She shoots him a wink over her shoulder and darts into the kitchen to avoid his further protests.

The afternoon rush gradually subsides after another hour of Alani racing around the restaurant. Eventually, as she heads back to the counter to refill two iced teas, Harry catches her attention again and holds up his own glass. “I think something was missing in my lemonade,”

She frowns. “What was it?”

“Some sugar,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “Have any to spare?”

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but before she can quip back with something clever, one of her co-workers calls her to the kitchen. Harry slumps in his seat and picks at an olive on his plate.

Two more hours go by and he silently watches Alani dart from table to table, hunched over a journal splayed in front of him. Alani’s eyes repeatedly linger in his direction as the night winds down and she knows without a shadow of doubt that more of his antics await, but she can’t resist wandering over to indulge his advances and her own curiosity.

“Whatcha working on?” she questions with a quick glance at the page in front of him.

Harry beams, shutting the book and leaning against the counter on his elbows. “More pick-up lines,”

“I admire your tenacity,” Alani chuckles lightly. “How long are you gonna stick around here?”

“How long you got left?”

“Three hours,”

“Then I’ll have another lemonade.” he says with a flash of his infectious smile.

Alani swipes his nearly empty cup, but before she retreats to fill it again, her head lowers to his level and she plants a chaste kiss to his eager lips. “Didn’t wanna forget your sugar this time.”

Families come and go and tables are cleared as the sun disappears into the horizon. By the last hour of Alani’s shift, the restaurant is practically dead save for Harry, who eventually migrated from his perch at the counter to a more comfortable booth in the corner. The sight of Alani rolling out her shoulders across the room steals his attention away from his scribbles, so he stands and makes his way over. When his warm fingertips meet her tense muscles, she immediately sinks into the touch.

“That better?” Harry murmurs, feeling her gradually relax as he works the knots at the base of her neck and shoulders.

“Yeah,” Alani hums. The relief is instant just like it always is when he’s around. After a moment, she reaches up to where his fingers are pressed against her skin and she spins so they’re standing chest to chest, hands clasped.

“Hi,” she greets softly.

“Hiya,”

“I can’t believe you stayed here all day,”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s better than being at the house missing you. Besides, I got some work done, too, so I’d say it was a success overall,”

The edges of Alani’s mouth turn up and she pulls away slightly with their hands still attached. “Oh yeah? So are you finished with that book of pick-up lines, then?”

“Almost,” Harry laughs airily. “Think it might even be a New York Times Best Seller,”

“Maybe ditch the ‘have any spare sugar?’ one. It’s a bit saccharine, don’t you think?”

“Dunno, that one worked pretty well, if my lips remember correctly.”

The corners of Alani’s mouth curl and she pulls away with their hands still attached. “Want some pie?”

“What kind?”

“Cherry,” she says, making her way over to the dessert bar.

“The best kind,” Harry replies, taking his seat.

Alani cuts out a generous portion and serves it to him. “I’m more of an apple pie girl,”

“A la mode?”

“Definitely,”

“You know,” Harry starts, cutting out a slice with his fork. “I used to work in a bakery,”

“Is that so?” she indulges him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter.

“Oh yeah. I’m a natural baker, it’s what they all used to say,”

“You’re gonna have to prove it one of these days,”

“Maybe I will,”

Alani rests her chin in her hand and watches Harry finish the rest of his pie, a content glimmer in his eyes. It’s ten minutes to closing time, so she wipes down the counter and starts the routine that she knows all too well. Harry sneaks off to the jukebox and sifts through the selections available, his tongue peeking through the corner of his lips when his eyes land on the perfect song. A gentle piano wafts through the restaurant followed by Diana Ross’ vocals singing a cover of “Bring it On Home to Me.” Alani hums the familiar tune and continues cleaning up before she feels an arm slink around her waist. She stops her work and turns around to face Harry who is singing the lyrics softly.

“Bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,”

Alani turns slowly to face him and she watches his strawberry lips carefully, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever heard him sing in person. His voice is low and smooth with just the right amount of grit behind it. She savors the sound, wondering what he would sound like performing his own lyrics before her memory recalls the image of him stooped over his notebook, scribbling something secret. The pair begin to sway gently, Harry still singing as he pulls Alani closer. He slips one hand to hers and lifts it so they’re in the starting position of a waltz. She slips an arm around his neck and her head meets his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his voice against her temple. For the remainder of the song, everything ceases to exist but the two of them: two hearts beating against each other—beating for each other. Harry dips Alani gingerly as the melody begins to fade out and she cranes her neck just enough to grant him another tender kiss. Her lips feel like the first sip of water after a long journey through the desert, and he knows that he will never get enough as he pours every ounce of adoration and longing that he can possibly muster into the kiss. Slowly, he brings her back to standing with their lips still attached before pulling away to catch his breath.

“I’ve never heard you sing.” Alani murmurs with her heart still racing. “Not like that,”

“I’ve never sung like that before,” he confesses, referring to the emotion behind the lyrics. “Guess I never really had a reason to.”

Alani’s breath hitches. Once again, she finds herself toeing the line between reality and fantasy. It often felt like he was too good to be true and this moment is no exception, but the delicate brush of his fingertips against her arm coaxes her back to the present—and very real— moment. Alani hugs him to her chest to feel the fierce beating of her heart and the drum of her own love song.

********

“Did that sound weird?”

“Sounded fine to me,”

Harry chews on his lower lip, eyes pinched shut as he locates the correct pitch in his head. “No, it sounded weird. Let’s go again,”

“You got it,” Tom says over the sound system that floods into the recording booth. “Take two of Harry’s untitled thing, rolling,”

“That’s not what we’re calling it on the tape, is it?”

“We are until you title it,”

Harry releases an amused breath. “Fair enough. Let’s just call it…” he hums and a faint smile creeps across his lips. “Let’s call it Clair de Lune for now.”

Tom scoffs. “Okay Debussy. Take two on Clair de Lune.”

“What does that mean?” Jeff asks, adjusting the levels on the soundboard.

“It’s French for ‘moonlight,’” Mitch declares. “According to Google Translate.”

Alani peeks inside the back entrance of the dimly lit studio and immediately hears a faint chorus of laughter. She cautiously steps inside and follows the sound down a narrow corridor, treading lightly to go unnoticed. The familiar gaggle of voices grows louder as she reaches the end of the hall and up to the door of the sound booth left slightly ajar. Her head pops in first, index finger raised to her lips, and Jeff silently beckons her inside while Harry and Tom go back and forth over the sound system.

“It’s fine—”

“—It’s not fine, it’s missing something.”

“So go again, but maybe try head voice instead of falsetto this time.”

Alani observes the scene with her back pressed firmly against the door to remain out of Harry’s sight. His presence at the café earlier in the week had been such a pleasant part of her day that she decided it was her turn to surprise him and show support for his work, which would undoubtedly be more interesting than watching her serve food for hours on end. The impromptu day off cost her a week of doing Pua’s laundry, but it was worth the chance of becoming a fly on the wall in the studio before eventually stealing Harry away for a few hours.

“I think I wanna do a harmony for this bit,” he says finally after a minute of playful bickering with Tom. “Can you send Mitchell in?”

The guitarist flashes two thumbs up through the window and stands, but he makes his way over to Alani, instead, and prompts her to go in his place with a conspiratorial wink. She slips inside the recording booth and Harry casually glances up from his notes, doing a double take and grinning wide when he realizes that it’s her.

“Sweets,” he beams, hanging up his headphones to scoop her into a tight embrace.

Alani’s feet hover a few inches from the floor and she giggles into the crook of his neck. “Hi, sunshine,”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“Just wanted to see you,” she admits, pulling away to relish in his dimples and bright eyes. “Well alright, maybe I also planned to kidnap you at some point, too, if that’s okay,”

Harry laughs and plants a kiss to her cheek. “Course it’s okay. Was just about to take a break and head your way, but you beat me to it,”

“Perfect,” Alani smirks. “So I’ll just wait for you to finish up here and then we can head out,”

The singer shakes his head before taking her hand and stepping over to the microphone.

“That’s a wrap for the day. Great work everyone,”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists. “I can wait—”

“—Well I can’t. I’m dying to see where you’re whisking me off to.” Harry quips back, already escorting her out of the booth with a jaunty spring in his step.

********

“You can open your eyes now,” Alani bids after putting Stevie into park.

“Finally,” Harry huffs teasingly. “Missed your face,”

They share a lighthearted kiss before Alani nods to the passenger side window. “Aren’t you curious to know where I dragged you to?”

Harry’s head turns, a cheshire grin spreading across his lips as he catches a glimpse of the sign that reads ‘Akaka Falls State Park. “Hey! Déjà vu,”

“My reason for bringing you here is twofold,” Alani explains, reaching into the backseat for the supplies she had brought along. “I know you’ve been in kind of a writer's rut lately, so I figured some proximity to the falls might help. But I also thought that maybe you could flex your painting skills, too,”

A tote bag full of fresh paint, canvas, and brushes materializes onto the middle console between them and Harry’s eyes light up. He gleefully sifts through the materials before looking back at Alani with a tender expression. “Alani, this is amazing,”

“I want you to draw me like one of your french girls,” she jokes with batted lashes. “Sorry, I’ve been sitting on that one since yesterday,”

Harry’s eyes crinkle with unbridled laughter. “You’re the best,”

“You get me,”

“Well what are we waiting for?” he questions, stepping out of the car and into the fresh air. “We’ve got some masterpieces to create,”

Alani meets him at the hood, and her arm slings across his back as his rests around her shoulders. “Full disclosure: I’m terrible at arts and crafts. I think I was the only ten year old who flunked art class,”

“Nah, I don’t believe it,”

“It’s true!”

“But you’re good at everything,” Harry reasons. “Maybe you’re just one of those artists who weren’t appreciated in their own time.”

Alani scoffs, her gaze occupied with the way their steps fall into sync. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They venture down the same route as their very first trip to the falls, though this time joined at the hip. The cerulean sky overhead and high summer sun provides the ideal subject for landscape paintings, and though dozens of tourists have also gathered to enjoy the perfect day, Alani and Harry are oblivious to everyone else. His cheeks flush with self-consciousness when she casually mentions the song that she had overheard him working on earlier, and he simply rubs the back of his neck and feigns ignorance when she asks what it’s about. It had always wracked his nerves to let other people hear his music before it was completely finished, but the fact that his current work-in-progress was heavily inspired by Alani only makes him that much more reluctant to share. While her curiosity begs to her to keep prying, she shrugs it off and refocuses on the lush scene before them as they reach Harry’s favorite lookout spot.

“What’re you gonna paint?” he asks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he picks out his supplies.

“I don’t know,” Alani ponders. “What about you?”

“Something good—hopefully,”

“Have you ever painted before?”

Harry’s eyes lift to the sky, as if searching the clouds for his answer. “Sure. Loved art class when I was in school. It’s a good way to de-stress,”

“Have any favorite artists?”

“Keith Haring’s pretty great, saw some of his stuff in New York City last time I was there,”

“Oh yeah, he’s incredible,” Alani agrees, mixing some paint on her platter. “Hey, have you ever been to the Louvre?”

Harry nods and the tip of his tongue peeks through the corner of his lip in concentration. “Yes actually, once,”

“Lucky. Paris is definitely on my bucket list,”

“Good to know,” her comment is stored in the back of Harry’s mind for future reference. “Hey sweets, you’ve got something on your face,”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, riiiiight,” Harry leans in, silently dipping his pinky in a dollop of pink paint before pulling back and smearing it across the bridge of her nose. “There,”

“Hey!” she cries.

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t know how you didn’t see that one coming,”

“You are such a child,”

“It’s fun, you should try it,”

Alani’s lower lip pouts. “Don’t wanna,”

“Sure you do,” Harry insists, holding out his plate of colors to her. “Go ahead,”

She releases a sharp breath and turns her back to him, strategically dipping her fingers in her own palette out of his sight.

“Sweets,” Harry coos. “Alani, hey, I’m sorry. That was a stupid—”

Her fingertips meet the side of his face and slide down to his chin, leaving a trail of yellow, orange, and blue. “Oh, sorry. What were you about to say?”

Harry’s mouth hangs agape and he blinks slowly. “You know what, I’ll let that one slide,”

“No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.”

Alani springs up from the bench and turns to bolt, but Harry’s arms snake around her waist and lift her in the air with one swift move. She shrieks, but she doesn’t fight his grasp and turns to face him instead, offering her puckered lips in surrender. Harry slots their mouths together with a satisfied smirk, but the spirited kiss quickly dissolves into laughter when their teeth collide.

********

Alani flips her bedroom light on and ushers Harry inside. “Sorry about the mess,”

He steps inside and absorbs every detail, taking note of all the photos and trinkets on display. The walls are a shade of blush, which doesn’t surprise him, and the bed is tucked neatly in the corner under a skylight. String lights dangle along one wall above a desk piled high with books and magazines. A hanging plant in another corner catches his attention, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the presence of her own record player and collection of vinyls. A red, heart shaped rug in the middle of the room ties it all together, and Harry doesn’t think that it could possibly be more Alani. She plops onto the bed with her completed artwork and motions for him to do the same. When he makes himself comfortable, she turns the canvas over with a wiggle of her brows.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Harry applauds, admiring the blobs of colorful shapes that somehow coalesce into a perfectly admirable—yet unidentifiable—piece of art. “What is it?”

“It’s you!”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” she begins, sitting up straighter to explain. “I really tried to go for the Keith Haring thing, but I added a little bit of my own touch to it. And there’s me too, see? The pink one in the back. And that’s supposed to be a palm tree but it looks kinda like a dude with green hair,”

Harry’s heart soars. “You made us into a Keith Haring?”

“I know it’s not as cool as what he would’ve done, but—”

“—It’s perfect,” he asserts. “I love it,”

Alani beams and she sits back on her heels, setting the painting against her nightstand. “Your turn,”

“Alright, well,” Harry clears his throat. “I also tried to emulate your favorite artist, so hopefully you’ll like it,”

He turns the painting over and a light gasp escapes Alani’s lips. She immediately recognizes the waterfall—the same one from ‘Akaka Falls that they had visited together twice now. Alani had had the slightest inkling that Harry was being modest about his artistic abilities, but she hadn’t quite anticipated this level of skill.

“Harry,” she starts, breathless. “I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible,”

“It’s no Georgia O'Keeffe, but I did my best,” he offers sheepishly.

Alani shakes her head with a small laugh. “I kind of hate you for saying that. It’s gorgeous. Blows my stupid kiddie craft out of the water,”

“Hey,” Harry tuts. “I love your painting, it’s so creative,”

“Yeah, well, yours is infinitely better and I love everything about it,” Alani states matter-of-factly, admiring each brushstroke and use of color. “So would it be okay if I—I mean… can I keep it?”

“Course you can, made it for you,”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits shyly. “It’s kinda like our spot, you know?”

A wide grin splits across Alani’s lips and she slinks her arms around his neck to bring him closer. “Yeah, I guess it is,”

“And the lookout where we saw that rainbow and had our first kiss,”

“Right,”

“Maybe even the café,”

“The whole island,” Alani hums. “And the sun, and the moon, and the stars,”

Harry smiles softly. “The sun and the moon, eh Mahealani?”

“Funny how life works out like that, isn’t it sunshine?”

next chapter

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry styles #ybmh #sorry for the delay blame tumblr!!!

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kimnjss · 4 years

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together, with me | (requested)

⇢ pairing: seokjin x reader ⇢ fic type: one shot ⇢ genre: smut, fluff ⇢ word count: 4.7K ⇢ theme: boyfriend!jin, slice of life. ⇢ warnings: cursing, slight dirty talk, dry humping, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap up lovelies), fingering, loss of virginity. this is highkey really tame. ⇢ synopsis: it’s been eight months since you’ve started your relationship with jin. he’s the guy for you, you’re sure of it. which is why you’re more than ready to take things to the next step. ⇢ A/N: this has been in my requests since last october :( and in my drafts for just as long- but im confident in this now, so i hope you guys like it as much as i do!! x

Eight months. Eight amazing months with the man that you were so lucky to call your boyfriend. Every single second, of every single day spent with him, was filled with laughter, smiles; he was able to make you feel such warmth; warmth you haven't felt... in a while. Maybe in your entire life.

Meeting Jin, you decided, was the best day of your life. He was different from the other guys that tried to impress you, get your attention. When he had come up to you that day, with that dazzling smile – you could easily tell that there was no agenda. He genuinely wanted to get to know you, so you gave him a chance.

Thought hanging out with him would just be some fun, trying out dating like your friends always suggested you should. You were in your 20s for crying out loud, no harm in having a little fun, right?

Except your relationship was far from a little fun. All too quickly, you found yourself falling for him. Walls crashing around your heart and you were letting him in, not a care in the world because you had him. And he had you.

What else could you ask for?

It was starting to get really hard to control yourself around him, too. You were starting to notice things about him that you hadn't in the past eight months. Like the sexy sharpness of his jawline, or the soft groans that left his lips when your hands were in his hair. Way too often, you found yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those plump lips that he always sweetly pressed against your forehead... pressed somewhere else.

Only natural, right? To start to desire your boyfriend in the way that you were. He was your boyfriend after all, right? Imagine doing things with him that could only be described as pornographic, but were you really the one to blame? Just one look at him, it was obvious that this wasn't your fault. This was Kim Seokjin we were talking about. It was only natural.

The small, minuscule, problem though was the fact that the two of you haven't really taken things to that level yet... you haven't gone that far with anyone yet. So guarded and cautious, there was no way you'd let someone in, in that way. But you wanted to with Jin, just couldn't shake the trickle of fear in your heart that it would go to waste.

You trusted him, but after waiting this long... it was a looming worry in the back of your mind. Wanted it to be perfect, your first time. Every last detail down to the guy that you were with. Was that guy really Kim Seokjin?

Did he even want to be?

[14:36] Jinnie: Should we go out to eat tonight?

The message lit up the glass screen of your phone, interrupting the YouTube video you had been so enthralled with. Instantly forgetting the concept of the tutorial, your fingers were quick to open up the new message. A smile spreading across your lips at the thought of spending quality time with your boyfriend.

It had been a few days since you saw each other last. You had gotten busy with some assignments and knowing how stressed and unhinged you managed to become, he decided that a little space would benefit. He was not wrong.

[14:37] You: Yes! What are you hungry for?

Only a second was spared to allow your mind to wander to the list of possible replies he could send to your question. The simple 'You' had your toes curling, mind reeling. What if he did say something like that? How would you even respond?

Was Jin the type to sext? Map out all the dirty things that he wanted to do to you through text? Express how hard you managed to make him through the screen? Show you. HAS HE SENT NUDES? Most likely, right? Guys were usually way too keen on showing their dicks, was Jin the same? Would he send you nudes if you asked him to? Could he convince you to send some back? Most likely.

[14:39] Jinnie: You decide, whatever you want. I'll come to pick you up in a little while.

Typing back your approval, your attention slowly shifted back the video that you had paused moments before. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the pretty beauty guru, you couldn't keep your mind from wandering to how good Jin would look sweaty and panting over you. Did you have a problem? Like a serious one, you were beginning to wonder.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours before you were pulling yourself from the comfort of your bed to get ready for dinner with Jin. Not in the mood to get all dolled up on a Tuesday night, you had decided that a simple burger joint would suffice for dinner tonight. Jin was more than happy with your decision, which you could've easily predicted.

Jin's familiar knock against your front door rang through your ears just as you were fastening the buttons on your jeans. Hastily, you ran your fingers through your hair, wide eyes staring at your reflection in the mirror. Did this top make your boobs look weird or was it just your eyes? Suddenly, you were regretting finishing that carton of ice cream last night.

With a dissatisfied huff and a few spritzes of his favorite perfume, you were making your way to the front door. Pulling it open only to be met by his big dazzling smile. Dark hair falling in messy waves, a loose white t-shirt covering his torso and form-fitting ripped jeans hugging his strong legs.

“Hey, baby.” His smile only grew as he stepped further into your apartment, an arm circling around your waist to pull your body close. Something that he's done countless times before, but this time was different. A liquid fire taking up between your thighs, your body becoming all too aware of the fact that your breasts were pressed against his chest. Even through the fabric.

“Hi,” You smiled, hands lifting to land on his covered pecks.

Soft lips captured yours, a happy sigh leaving his lips as he leaned more into you, easily spreading your lips with his. Your hands fisted at the fabric of his shirt, mouth moving over his slowly, lovingly while your body pressed against his, greedily, full of desire; need. “You smell nice,” He was mumbling, upon detaching lips.

“It's the perfume you got for me a bit ago,” He's nodding, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks within his palm. Jin is pressing his lips against yours once more softly, three innocent pecks landing on your soft lips.

“I missed your lips,” You find yourself saying on a pout, body leaning up on your toes to muffle the chuckle that slips past his lips with your own. The tips of his fingers run over the sliver of skin exposed from your top, the gesture lighting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

As if Jin can sense you're two seconds from tearing that shirt from his body, he's pulling away. Taking a few backward steps to, reluctantly, create some space between the two of you. Instead, he reaches for your hand, lazily holding your fingers with his. “You ready to go?”

You're nodding at his words, stepping forward to close the space between you two, and to be able to reach your shoes. He watches as you slip them on, leading you out of the apartment into his car with his hand in yours.

How he managed to make you so nervous, so on edge, without doing anything was a loss on you. Every last thing he did was like a trigger to these uncapped sexual thoughts in your head and you didn't think you'd be able to maintain control throughout the entire evening.

There had to be something wrong with you because this man was simply driving! There was no reason for you to be salivating at the sight of him switching lanes, or ready to risk it all and palm him each time he took a tight turn. Sexual frustration, clearly made you irrational, you were quickly deciding.

If Jin had noticed the odd way you were acting, he was doing a really good job at ignoring it. One hand gripping the steering wheel and the other wrapped around yours, he filled you in on the things that he did in the few days you hadn't seen each other. Jumping from stories of finally beating Jungkook in some video game to the triumph of getting Yoongi to admit his signature dish tasted better the way Jin made it.

You listened intently, laughed along with him. Found comfort in knowing that he had a busy last few days, it was no secret that you felt a little bad about canceling on him just as things started to overwhelm. Thank God, you had such an understanding boyfriend. Such a perfect boyfriend that understood you. That cared about you.

The smile on your face never seemed to falter as his laughter grew, the slight crinkle in his eye, the familiar squeak mixing with the chuckles. At the end of the plot of the movie, he wanted to watch it together with you sometime this weekend. Lost in admiring him, you were lifting his hand, pressing your lips against his knuckles.

“What was that for?” He was smiling, turning his attention down to you. With a shrug, you hid your smile with his large fist, planting more soft kisses against his skin. “I like the way you look when you're laughing,” You confess, loving the pink tint that takes over his cheeks at the compliment.

Pink cheeks rise at your compliment, his soft thumb brushing over the curve of your lips. Jin chances a moment to look at you, his eyes screaming every ounce of happiness, adoration, love that he felt for you. With you. You felt the rise in your chest, the uptake of your heartbeat. It had to be him. You loved him so much, there was no one else but him.

Dinner was nice to put it simply. Food was delicious and Jin kept you entertained throughout the entire meal. What you couldn't shake, though, was the anxiety prickling at the back of your neck knowing that tonight was going to be the night. You weren't even properly prepared, all you knew was there was no way you'd be able to go another moment without being with him in that way.

It was all you could think about.

Ever so gentlemen like, Jin was walking with you the entire way to your apartment. A large hand finding your waist once you were reaching the door. You caught sight of the cute smile on his lips, not being able to resist leaning up to press your lips against his.

He smiled against your mouth, free hand lifting to hold the other side of your waist. Liquid fire shoots through your veins as his mouth moves against yours. Something as innocent as a goodnight kiss, but he was driving you wild. The last thing you wanted to say was goodnight.

His lips melded so perfectly onto yours, and he's leaning into you. The gentle so great that you're back is being pressed against the door behind you. As if he had been in tune with your body all night, knew what was coming. What had been floating through your mind long before he came to pick you up.

The kiss changes, becoming hotter, needier, more desperate and it's him that makes the shift. Jin's hands drop from your waist onto your hips, fingers dig into your skin as he subtly pushes his hips forward. Half hard cock brushing against your thigh and you gasp, breaking the kiss with wide eyes.

You two stand there, staring at each other for a moment. Never had you seen this man look so starved, hands clutching the fabric of your shirt as if he was seconds from tearing it apart. Chest heaving as if you had been doing more than just kissing, then again you were. It was becoming very evident to you that he had been more than aware of the nagging desire you'd been feeling all night.

He had been feeling it too.

“Do you want to come in?” His face softens at the sound of your voice, eyes searching your features for any sign of uncertainty. Jin knew all too well about your want to wait to have sex. Didn't push it when you asked him if he would be okay with waiting, simply smiled wide, and told you he didn't care because being with you was more than enough.

You might've fallen in love with him at that moment, you were just too in your own head to understand.

Both of you knew what would happen if he agreed to come inside, and he didn't want there to be any level of doubt when it came to this. When it came to giving him your virginity. “Are you sure?” He was grinning at the sight of your quick nod, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips.

You're pushing the door open the moment he's detaching his lips from yours. The air changes with the slam of your front door. He's moving toward you quickly, arms circling around your waist to pull your body into his chest. He moves as if all restraint was left out in the hallway and your body is bubbling with such need you don't even think of the possibility of slowing down.

Jin's head is tilting, mouth connecting with the skin of your neck. Like he's done many times before, he places open-mouthed kisses against your skin, grazing his teeth against bits that he's sure would get a reaction from you. He's right, breath hitching at the feel of his teeth and fist tightening around the fabric of his t-shirt.

His hands are lifting, inching underneath the hem of your shirt. Slowly, as if he was waiting for you to voice your protest at any moment. You had none. There wasn't a thing in the world that'd make you change your mind. Not when you were so close that you craved so much. With him.

There's a visible shudder in your body when his cool hands meet your warm breasts, palms hovering over the pert peaks. His soft chuckle tickles the skin of his neck, the feeling of his grin warming your body. “You're so fucking clueless...” He groans, fingers flexing around your breasts. Warmth oozing out of you, puddling in your panties that were quickly beginning to stick. All that from the sound of his deep, gruff voice. The way he cursed.

“You have no idea the effect you have on me, I swear. Always walking around without a bra, can always see these cute little nipples.” He pinches one between his fingers to prove his point and you moan. “You're so hot,” Praise comes out through a whine, which had your entire body buzzing.

With one swift movement, Jin is pulling back to pull your shirt from your body. He groans eye burrows furrowing with pleasure at the sight of your naked chest. He's lowering himself onto your couch as he stares up at you, arms open to welcome you into his lap. You waste no time with straddling his waist, hands burying in his hair the moment his lips latch onto your nipple.

His free hand grasps and needs your neglected breast, lips wrapped tight and tongue rolling over the hardened bud. You can't keep your body from twitching, can't hold back the breathy moans that slip past your lips. Your fist in his hair holds his head in place, but that means nothing when he's rolling his hips against yours.

“Fuck,” The sound of his groan mixes with your surprised whimper. The feeling of his clothed cock brushing against your slit lights a fire in his belly. Your heart begins to sputter, a wild spread of lust you've never felt before warming your lips. Fueling your hips enough to push down against him again.

A soft moan escapes from his lips from the friction, mouth hanging open around your nipple as he pants. “Do that again,” He mumbles and you comply, loving the twitch of his hips the moment your crotches meet.

Quickly, his hands are dropping to your hips; holding your body in place as he draws back, thrusting forward with slight force. Your body jolts, the ridge of his cock nudging against your sensitive clit making you gasp. You see the grin on his face, the mischief in his eyes just moments before he's repeating the action.

He continues until he's full-on fucking against you, groans and whines leaving his lips and you have never seen him this desperate before. Usually, he was so composed and put together, but he looked as if he was moments from falling apart. All from a little dry humping? Never did you think how waiting would affect him, but in retrospect it had been eight months since he's been with someone... maybe longer.

But he waited, patiently for you to be ready. Waited until you gave him the green light and now it was like he couldn't control himself. You loved it. How unabashed you were able to make him. A sick trickle of dominance flowing through your veins and you wanted more of it.

With a newfound confidence, your hand was sliding between your bodies. Lifting your body slightly in order to fit your hand between his legs, grasping his covered cock in your palm. His body stills, round eyes watching your hand on him.

“I want to make you feel good...” You trail off, never knowing what to say when it came to dirty talk. Not like you've been in this situation before, but you were drawing a blank. All you could do was tell him what you wanted and hoped that was good enough. “Wanna suck you off,” He groans, whines at the thought.

A grin splits your face as you lean up to press a kiss to his lips. “I need you to teach me, though.”

Jin's nodding before the sentence can fully leave your lips, body sinking further into the couch as he looked up at you, eyes drooped and almost sleepy. “Okay,” He breathes, blinking as if he can't believe what he's hearing. “Okay.” He repeats with a laugh, body straightening slightly. “Okay, yeah. I can teach you.” He grins and you laugh, lifting your body from his body while he fumbles with the buttons of his jeans.

You watch as he tugs his pants down, following the movement by the inch. The soft patch of hair adorning his pelvic bone is the first thing you see before he's bobbing free from the restraint of his apparel. You can't help the way your jaw drops, and your eyes bulge at the sight of his cock.

Thick and veiny, resting lazily against his hipbone. There's a slight sheen to it that could only be from the precum that had leaked from the angry red tip. His large hand reaches down to circle the base, eyes lifting to trace your features. You watch as he gives himself an introductory pump, teeth scraping against his lower lip.

Instantly, you're being swarmed with nervousness; it nags at your throat and chest. Never have you seen a dick up close before and this big for one. You were supposed to fit all of that into your mouth? And then later inside of you? There was no way that was possible.

He's sensing your anxiety, “It's okay,” He whispers with a smile. Confusion dancing across your brow, no idea that your emotions were that loud on your face. Realizing you had just been sitting there, wide-eyed staring you force yourself to move. Hand covering his until he's moving it, allowing your palm to wrap around his length.

A groan falls from his lips as you slowly begin to move your hand over him. Eyes finding him, you waited expectantly for his instruction. “L-lick... the tip.” He mumbles and you're quick to lean forward, dragging your tongue over the wet head. His salty precum hits your tongue and you're deciding you like the way he tastes against his tongue, lips wrapping around the tip as you roll your tongue over it.

“Oh, fuck.” He curses, body flinching, and you grin. Daring confidence coursing through your veins as you stroke him while your hand works against his length. “Suck on it,” Jin speaks through a strangled groan and you're quick to comply, lips wrapping tighter around his shaft as you suck.

His head draws back, hips twitch as he reaches his hands up to pull your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Eyes flash up to take in how good he looks from this angle, a heat pooling between your legs. Your thighs clench to each other as you're lowering your head, opening up your mouth to take more of him down your throat.

Jin's body sits up slightly, just enough so he can watch the way his cock disappears past your lips. A hand wrapped around the bit your mouth can't reach, you hollow your cheeks. “Your mouth feels so good, baby.” You're grinning at the praise, urging yourself to swallow more of him down.

You're careful to keep your teeth out of the way, head bobbing as you slowly settling into a pace that's comfortable for you. Your hand twists around his shaft, squeezing with each drawback of your head. It's not a long before Jin is falling apart underneath you, hips lifting and toes curling. Your tongue traces over a prominent vein along the underside of his cock and he's flinching a strangled curse falling from his lips.

“Wait, fuck.” His hand in your hair pulls your head back slightly. And you take in his fucked out expression. The flush on his cheeks, plump lips red from the way he had been biting into them. “I need to be inside of you,” His dick twitches in your palm and you're nearly moaning out at the thought of him finally stretching you out.

“We don't have to do this, though. If you're not sure...” Your heart warmed. Even with his hard pulsing ready cock between you, he was still so concerned with if this was what you wanted. “I'm sure.” Hands finding his shoulders, you press a soft kiss to your lips. “I want to. With you.”

A laugh slips from your lips from the quickness of his movements after that, his hands on your hips pushing your body down into the comfort of the couch. “With me.” He repeats, and it's obvious your words managed to tug on his heartstrings.

Jin mouths at your neck as his hand slips beneath the elastic of your leggings. “You're so perfect, you know?” He speaks as he lifts his head to look at your face. There's no use to hide the flush in your cheeks, half from his words and the other half from his fingers inching closer and closer to your throbbing heat.

You gasp the moment the tips of his long fingers find your clit. He draws slow circles over the sensitive button, watching as you moan and twitch beneath him. Mouth falling open as he reaches lower, slowly pushing a finger past your folds. Your legs spread, body rocks with the movement of the digit while whimpers fall from your lips.

A spread of heat is taking over your body, hands reaching for the tops of your pants to remove them. Jin notices your movements, free hand lifting to help you remove the offensive garment. Quickly after, sliding a second finger inside of you. “Jin!” You gasp, back arching from the upward curl of his fingers deep inside of you.

“I need you,” There's a slight plead and your voice that has a pang of arousal shooting through his veins. Slowly he's drawing his fingers back, grinning at the way your walls clench around them in protest.

Slowly he's positioning his body between your legs, thighs lifted to press against his thighs. You admire him as he looks down, dick in hand as he strokes his tip along your wet folds. “You haven't changed your mind?” He wonders, peaking up at your face.

“Nope,” His smile meets yours, slipping into a slow gentle kiss. He's pulling away, hips thrusting forward and you already feel the stretch from just his head.

“Tell me if it hurts... or if you want to stop,” You nod, mentally preparing yourself for the intrusion.

Inch by inch, the rest of his length is pushing it's way past your walls. The pain is blinding, starting from your core and spreading throughout your entire body; growing more intense the deeper he slides into you. A hiss escapes your lips, head falling back as you clamp your lips shut.

“Are you alright?” Concern laces his tone and you nod, trying to muster enough composure to actually speak.

“I'm okay. Keep going,” You speak on a labored breath, and though unconvinced he's drawing back and pushing forward again. Curses slip past both of your lips, reasons different. “I'll go slow,” He promises before slowly pulling his hips back again.

The amount of restraint he was applying not to just fuck into you. Wanting to allow your body to relax, desperately trying to keep his pleasure to make him crazed. It was hard with the tight grip around him, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

His thrusts are slow and controlled, mouth planting softening kisses against your skin in hopes to lessen the pain. There's a stutter in his hips as his pace quickens, paying great attention to your reaction as he rolls his hips into you. It's a few more thrusts before the pain is starting to truly lessen being replaced with a tingle of pleasure. A moan slips past your lips and Jin is snapping his head up.

“Faster,” You encourage.

He's groaning while pulling back to the tip, hips snapping forward into yours and he hisses. The restraint that he tried so hard to hold onto slowly slipping as he begins to lose himself in you, thrusts becoming sloppy and untimed. Face twisted with pleasure, fingers bruising your hips and skin slapping against skin, you can feel your orgasm slowly approaching, walls becoming tighter around him.

“Fuck,” He gasps. “You're squeezing me so... shit,” He's fucking into you with so much power, the pain of the stretch mixing with the pleasure and it's enough to make your toes curl. “I'm- gonna cum,” He manages to gripe out.

A large hand slithers down your body, fingers finding your wet clit; creating quick circles. A drawn-out whine leaves your lips, hips lifting to meet his. “Me too, baby... uh- fuck, I'm c-close,”

His mouth captures yours in a heated kiss, fingers rolling between your legs as his thrusts grew uncontrolled. “Cum... together, with me.” Pure want, desire flashes through his eyes, your heart welling up and exploding against your chest. All resolve snapping as your orgasm hits and he's not far behind you.

You feel the thick spurts of his arousal coat your constricting walls, legs shaking as his slowly thrusts help you ride it out. With one last powerful thrust his hips are stilling completely, body falling limp above you.

Jin's lips find yours, kissing you slowly. You can feel the heaving of his chest against yours, the fast beat of your hearts. A sheen layer of sweat coats both of your bodies. He's pulling back slowly, looking at you as if you were the one who had hung the stars. And there's no way you can hold it back anymore.

“I love you,” “I'm in love with you.” His words mix with yours, a grin spreading across your lips in realization that the same thing had been on his mind. He laughs, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “I love you,” He repeats, rephrases and you giggle, arms wrapping around his neck.

“I'm in love with you.” You smile, loving the way his face lights up at your words, just before he's leaning down to press his lips against yours again.

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877 notes · View notes

writemekpop · 4 years

Text

Soaked | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Summary: A shiver of electricity coursed through your body as you realised that your crush was standing next to you, dripping wet and completely naked.

Word Count: 1.8k

It was a Friday night, and you were back in the NCT dorms. But it wasn’t your childhood friend Yuta who had drawn you here, it was something else. Or should you say, someone else.

The first time you saw Jaehyun in person, your heart did a somersault. You’d seen his face numerous times in videos, but a screen could not do justice to this man’s beauty. He was tall, gorgeous and stylish, and you wanted nothing more than to press kisses to his full cheeks and glorious dimples.

You’ve never shared your secret feelings with Yuta, too scarred from having been teased for past crushes before. That being said, you wouldn’t say you were subtle about your affections towards Jaehyun. Sometimes, you’d find yourself staring at his pink lips or his deep eyes, only to be jolted out of your reverie by a sharp nudge in your ribs, delivered by a laughing Yuta.

Tonight, you were playing Monopoly with Yuta, Jaehyun and Haechan. “HAHA pay up hyung! That’s what you get for landing on my hotel!” Haechan screeched at Jaehyun. Jaehyun begrudgingly handed over the last of his fake money. “Haechan, you win,” he said, getting up. “I’m going to take a shower”.

You watched as Jaehyun lifted his long arms above his head to stretch. The movement lifted his black T shirt, revealing a few inches of pale skin. You stared, mouth agape, at the hard lines of his abs and followed the light trail of hair that went from his belly button and dipped below the belt of his jeans. Jaehyun noticed you staring, his cheeks turning a dusted pink.

You dragged your eyes away from his torso to find him staring intently at you, his plump lips parted slightly. Noticing his intense gaze, you quickly looked away, feeling a warmth spreading up your face. Haechan, having noticed the change in atmosphere, was inspecting the hem of his shirt as if it was the most captivating item in the world.

Suddenly, a panicked looking Doyoung burst into the room. “Guys!” he cried, “I just got a text! The manager is on his way to the dorm right now!” He turned and looked at you, his large eyes brimming with terror. “You’ve got to hide. We can’t get caught with girls in the dorm again!"

“Again?” you exclaimed, raising your eyebrow incredulously.

“There’s no time to discuss this now, hurry!” Doyoung cried. As you ran down the corridor you saw a frantic and shirtless Taeil burst out of one door and fall through another, closely followed by two girls who looked like they belonged on the Victoria’s Secret runway. Your mouth fell open in shock as you stared at Yuta, who just shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

As you went to hide in Yuta’s room, he stopped you. “There’s nowhere to hide in there,” he said, looking shifty. “I’ve got a much better idea.” Yuta took your hand in his and dragged you towards the bathroom.

“You need to hide in the shower,” Yuta said, “it’s the only place the manager won’t look”. You could hear the sound of running water, and the air was warm and steamy. Your eyes went wide as you realised who was behind those flimsy shower curtains. The water shut off then, and Jaehyun’s head poked around the curtain, his brown hair dripping, droplets running down his strong jaw.

Yuta lifted you into the tub with Jaehyun. “Be quiet and stay put,” he said to you, “I’ll let you know when the manager’s gone”. And just like that, Yuta ran out of the door with a devilish smirk on his face.

A shiver of electricity coursed through your body as you realised that your crush was standing next to you, dripping wet and completely naked.

You slowly turned to face Jaehyun, who was staring at you with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. He opened his mouth to speak, but hearing the door open, your hand flew to his mouth to stop him. The manager’s voice rang out into the room. “Who’s there?” he asked.

You looked up at Jaehyun, silently pleading with him to play along. The tips of his ears had gone bright pink, and his breath was hot against your hand. “I said who’s there?” Impatience tugged at the manager’s voice.

As you stared into Jaehyun’s unreadable brown eyes, your heart sunk. He wouldn’t give you away, would he?

Just as you were about to give up hope, you felt Jaehyun’s lips turn up into a smile under your clasped hand. The corners of his eyes crinkled warmly, and you marvelled at how his face transformed into one of such beauty. You nodded at him and removed your hand from his mouth.

Jaehyun poked his head out of the curtain to talk to the manager, pinning you against the wall in the process. Because of the strange angle, you had a clear view of the muscles of Jaehyun’s back, which were well defined and glistening under the harsh white lighting. You felt guilty for staring at Jaehyun exposed like this, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away.

“It’s just me hyung,” Jaehyun said.

“You’re showering, right?” the manager replied. “Well, get on with it then”.

“Um… yeah,” Jaehyun stuttered. He turned around to get at the tap, silently mouthing an apology as he turned it back on. The searing water sprayed out from the shower head, soaking you both. When the manager finally left the bathroom, you both sighed with relief.

The running water drenched your hair and made your clothes stick to your skin. Your eyes wandered over to Jaehyun, who was preoccupied by staring at the soaked straps of your dress. His bold gaze made your cheeks burn. Why were you feeling shy when he was the one who was naked? Now that he was distracted, you finally let your eyes rake over the entirety of his form.

Standing so close to him, you realised just how broad and strong Jaehyun was. You moved your eyes down to his collar bones, where a small pool of liquid lay nuzzled next to his creamy neck. You traced a line of droplets that ran down the planes of his muscles, falling into the hollow of his navel.

You felt dizzy as you let your eyes wander further down, following the V-shaped outline on his lower abdomen and down to his… “Hey!” Jaehyun’s voice snapped you out of your haze. Your eyes flicked up to his face, which was looking a lot less composed. His cheeks sported pink orbs which matched the tips of his ears.

“Let’s turn around,” Jaehyun said, his hands moving to cover himself. You agreed, and the two of you turned so that you were back to back. You stood there in silence, which gradually shifted from awkward to comfortable. You were enjoying the feel of his hard back against yours, and the warm water felt nice on your bare arms.

After a few moments Jaehyun said, “By the way… I listened to that song you recommended… it was really nice”. The last time you were here, you had mentioned a song in attempt to extend your conversation with the beautiful boy.

“I knew you’d like it!” you reply, “As soon as I heard it, I thought of you”. You cringed as you realised how cheesy that sounded. You couldn’t see this, but Jaehyun smiled at your comment, dimples forming on his puffy cheeks. You had always found that if you could calm your racing heart, conversations with Jaehyun were genuinely interesting.

You and Jaehyun spoke about everything and nothing, and eventually so much time had passed that the water ran cold. You shivered as you realised that the warmth in your heart was not enough to heat your body.

Suddenly, you felt Jaehyun’s wet hands on your shoulders, slowly rubbing up and down. Your eyes widened as the atmosphere grew hot under the chill water. Jaehyun pulled you closer and wrapped his arm around your chest; you felt his breath hot on your ear.

You slowly turned around to face Jaehyun. One of his arms worked its way down from its place on your shoulder and held your hand, swinging it lightly as his fingers intertwined with yours. “I’m kind of glad it worked out like this,” Jaehyun said, pouting his lips cutely. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’ve liked you for a while” he said.

You were at a loss for words. All this time he had liked you back? Too flustered to speak, you just smiled up at him and gave his hand a warm squeeze.

Jaehyun’s gaze fell on your lips as he began to lean forward. This was finally happening! You moved on to your tip toes as Jaehyun came closer, the water dripping over his plump lips. You put your free hand on his chest to stabilise yourself. Just as you felt the ghosting of his lips on yours, a thud from the direction of the door caused the two of you to jump apart.

The next second, the shower curtains were viciously yanked back, revealing an incredulous looking Doyoung. You had to admit that it was an odd sight to see: you in a soaked sun dress and Jaehyun naked, both of you looking flushed despite the cold water that kept running.

“Why are you still here?” Doyoung asked. “The manager left twenty minutes ago! Didn’t Yuta come and tell you?”. You gasped at the audacity of your Japanese friend. You and Jaehyun stared at each other for a second and then burst into laughter.

“I’m going to kill him!” you said, still trying to quell your laughs. Jaehyun smiled then, his deep-set dimples beautifully on show. “I’m not so sure you should,” Jaehyun said, “I can think of a lot of worse people to be stuck in the shower with.” His eyes were twinkling in the light.

“Maybe we could prank Yuta back,” you said “…together”. You whispered the last word, shyly meeting Jaehyun’s gaze.

“I’d like that,” Jaehyun replied, his voice soft and low. He took your hand in his, and the two of you stepped out of the tub. Yuta had no idea what was coming for him.

---

MASTERLIST

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if-you-built-yourself-a-myth · 3 years

Text

Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander—last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

#sobbe #wtfock #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #hogwarts au #fake dating #fic request #conflict is coming i'm so sorry #my writing #fanfiction

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

I love your writing so much, so thank you for gifting us all

I am so happy you like my writing, Nonnie! In these miserable times people like you reaching out makes things that bit happier. Thank you for being a ray of sunshine on cloudy days!

Like before, here’s a little ficlet of thanks. Today’s flavour is blind Jaskier.

They had separated months before with plans to meet up again when their path crossed. Only, it had been too long since Geralt had even heard bout Jaskier, something wasn’t right. So he change his course, his path still took him all over the continent but this time, he had intent. He was looking for his bard, the brightly coloured fool who had a knack for bedding the wrong person. Nobody had seen such a bard. It wasn’t that Geralt was worried but he was nervous. Jaskier had never been one to disappear like that.

His travels took Geralt to places he’d thought Jaskier would be. Oxenfurt, Tretogor, even Cintra. He was nowhere. Not even whispers of him passing through. Even the coast had come up empty, they hadn’t even heard of Jaskier. Geralt knew he had to change tactics, to track down Jaskier somehow. He hunted down where he was last seen and tried to go from there. The innkeeper had told him which direction Jaskier had left in but by the time Geralt got to the next town over, nobody seemed to have heard of him.

“The one who played the songs about the White Wolf,” Geralt tried again when descriptions didn’t help. “Toss A Coin, Her Sweet Kiss, Fishmonger’s Daughter,” he listed off some of Jaskier’s songs, hoping to find any whisper about his bard.

“We know those songs,” a stableboy perked up. “The Blind Bard sings those from time to time down at The Rose and Horse.”

Not many had the eclectic ability to sing such a range of songs. Even if this Blind Bard wasn’t his Jaskier, they might still know of him, point Geralt in the direction of his next clue.

The Rose and Horse wasn’t too busy, it was early evening but there was already the familiar strum of a lute and soft humming coming from a corner. Humming that sounded all too familiar. Turning, Geralt had to take a moment to understand what he was seeing. It was Jaskier, no doubt about it. But he was in muted colours, no longer radiant. His head was tipped forward, hair falling in his face, eyes closed. Stepping closer, Geralt came to within four steps of him when the lute playing stopped and Jaskier’s head turned. He didn’t look up at Geralt though, head tilted curiously as if he was listening intently and took a deep breath. A small, fond smile played on his lips.

“Jaskier.” Geralt greeted.

Head snapping up, Jaskier turned. And Geralt wished he hadn’t. Jaskier’s gaze was off, staring somewhere to his right and sightlessly glazed over.

“There’s a voice I never thought I’d here again.” A hand reached in Geralt’s direction and he grasped it tightly. “What are you doing here, old friend?”

Despite his easy words and small smile, Jaskier’s hand clutched at Geralt tightly, silently keeping him close.

“I came looking for you. You never came back. Were nowhere to be found. What happened?”

Standing up, Jaskier kept a good hold of Geralt’s arms.

“Marissa, I will be back to earn my keep when we fill up a bit more. I have a personal matter to attend to.” He tucked his lute under an arm and began to slowly make his way along the wall, hand out to catch any wayward chairs in the way. Geralt could hear him counting steps quietly under his breath.

They made it to a small room at the back of the inn, on the ground floor, just behind the kitchen. It was warm without a fire lit in it, the bed pushed against the wall shared with the kitchen and Geralt realised the warmth was from the fires in the other room.

“Sit, sit.” Jaskier finally let go of Geralt and patted the straw mattress next to him. “You’ll have to tell me about your new adventures so I can compose more songs.”

The words were the same as ever, chatty, bright and said with a wide smile. But they rang hollow, lacking the genuine thirst for adventure and dramatics. Rather than reply, Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the chin to turn him and look at his eyes. He didn’t miss the violent flinch at being suddenly touched.

“Jaskier, what happened?” The question was soft, nothing like how Geralt had ever really been. “You’re blind. Who did this to you?”

“It was a very rainy day.” Jaskier shrugged and pulled his chin free, eyes unseeingly fixed on Geralt’s shoulder rather than his face. “I probably shouldn’t have gone out but there were some pretty flowers. Buttercups. I wanted to pick a couple and was running back with them when the downpour started good and proper. Well, I slipped, smacked my head. Woke up a few days later and the world was gone.”

So it wasn’t even something Geralt could avenge and rage against. He couldn’t very well take on the god of rain and mud, not that he was unwilling, he’d taken on worse foes before. But it wouldn’t help Jaskier. The worst part was, he didn’t know what could help Jaskier.

“I couldn’t find you. There were no talks about a bard as bright as a parrot. I feared the worst had come to pass.”

A small, bitter laugh bubbled out of Jaskier. “Some days I think that would have been the kinder outcome. But here I am. And I had to shift my focus, colours were no longer a priority but comfort was cost was. Food and board in exchange for my playing four nights a week. Plus I get to keep tips. It’s not a bad living.”

But it wasn’t the living Jaskier had wanted or deserved. He was a caged bird now, slowly fading away, songs dulling along with his visage.

“On the plus side, I don’t have to worry about the latest cut of fashion chafing or a doublet laced tighter than a comfortable because it is what is considered handsome.” Jaskier was obviously trying to convince himself as well as Geralt at that point, his face was falling and as expressive as ever. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” He pulled away from Geralt and grunted as he unexpectedly hit the wall. “Please see yourself out. Tell Marissa I’ll cover your food bill.”

Geralt didn’t move. Too stunned as he watched Jaskier battle tears and thinking he understood. Over the months, Jaskier had almost made peace with his new life. Managed to find himself somewhere to stay and where his singing would keep him fed and sheltered. Then along came Geralt, signifying everything Jaskier had lost - freedom, adventure, friendship. Geralt very much doubted anyone wanted to lay with a blind bard. He wondered whether Jaskier would trust anyone enough to sleep with them without seeing them anyway.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his fingers nudging Jaskier’s on the bed before twining them together. “I’ll take you to all the healers, mages, sorceresses. Let me find you a cure. If no, I’ll take you to Countess de Stael myself and ensure you can be her court bard. Or Cintra’s. Or any other court that strikes your fancy. I’ll make it happen.”

A soft sob was his answer. “How could I follow? I can’t spot a root or pothole to stop me twisting my ankle. So how do you think I’d manage on the road? When you’re off chasing some monster. Or we get bandits jump out at us? I’m more helpless than Roach who can at least run to safety.”

At a loss for words, Geralt tugged lightly at Jaskier’s hand, pulled him until he was resting against his chest. Arms wrapping around a body that was definitely slimmer than when they parted, Geralt desperately tried to find solutions.

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise. You’ll ride Roach. We’ll stay at taverns where you can lock doors if I’m off on a contract. I’ll work enough to keep us both fed and clothed. Take contracts near healers who could help you. I don’t want to leave you behind, I can’t leave knowing you’re wasting away in some town not worthy enough of being remembered by name.”

They were big promises, a lot of pressure on Geralt but he wasn’t going to let Jaskier fade from his memories. Not like this. Hands traced up his chest and neck until fingers were feeling the contours of his face. Geralt closed his eyes and let Jaskier feel him.

“It’s you, it’s really you,” Jaskier whispered. “I dreamt of and dreaded the day you’d come.”

“Please, let me help.” Geralt wasn’t begging but he wasn’t known for asking nicely. “I want you by my side again.”

He didn’t say that even if Jaskier never regained his sight, Geralt would stay with him. It went almost without saying. If Jaskier needed a secure home, they would settle, maybe near the coast where Jaskier had grown up. And Geralt would always return home to him. It seemed that his intentions were understood when hands on his cheeks guided him and soft, dry lips pressed against his.

The next morning, Geralt led Roach out of the town, walking next to his horse while Jaskier sat atop, strumming his lute and humming.

#gerskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #hurt jaskier #blind jaskier #tldr: jaskier is blinded by a fall and geralt finds him months later #cw: loss of vision

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kentuckywrites · 3 years

Text

His Body, The Canvas

Pongo has gone missing, and @shunkuroichii ‘s Shun, @pish-posh-mish-mosh ‘s Mira, and @shymindmeta ‘s Sy’Chell grow concerned about his whereabouts. As fate would have it, Pongo went to face a dragon, and the results were unexpected...

A rewrite of Like A Canvas, a fic I wrote a little over three years ago.

Cauldros was an unforgiving terrain, the skies and the land full of ash and flame. Today it was raining fire, brimstone crashing down onto the molten floor. It’d be foolish to come on a day like this, but Pongo flew his Skell into the continent with no second thoughts. It was perfect weather to face the creature that had hurt his friend.

Sy’Chell had almost brushed over the topic. Pongo had been curious as to whether or not Sy could see once, what had caused him to end up in this state. Sy opened up, told him that this was not by choice, that a creature born of the ashes of Cauldros had taken his sight. Pongo knew exactly which indigen he’d been referring to. He knew where to find it, what prior conditions it needed to appear. He knew its name, how it would not be so easily killed.

Vortice, the Deific Blast. A Class 94 Tyrant, one of the most powerful indigens on Mira, and certainly one of the deadliest in Cauldros. Pongo hid his intent to kill it in conversation, though beneath the skin his blood boiled with rage. The planet was aware of his anger, and any attempts it made to calm him ended in silence. He’d packed his things, refueled Eros, stacked as many Piscinoid augments as he could fit into it, and took off without informing anyone. Pongo could use excuses, if anyone questioned him. He’d grown better at lying after all this time.

Pongo’s target became visible on the horizon as Eros flew ever closer to Mount M’Gando. Pongo clutched the controls of his beloved Skell tightly, his knuckles turning white. Taking down a tyrant solo was nearly unheard of in BLADE, with only the most experienced able to claim that distinction for themselves. Had those BLADEs fought with a similar vengeance? Had it burned in their cores to the point of overflowing? Pongo tried to steady his breaths as his thoughts began to eat away at him from the inside. He wasn’t going to turn back now, not when avenging Sy was on the line.

Vortice roared, circling the top of Mount M’Gando and soaking in its heat. Pongo pushed Eros forward, forward. He waited until he was in range to fire, and when the first diskbombs deployed from his weapon, he finally let his rage consume him.

Pongo was supposed to babysit Apollo and Asteria. He should’ve arrived an hour ago. But he never came. No texts, no calls, he’d simply disappeared.

Mira could feel from the first minute that something was wrong. He wouldn’t blow something like this off, and it was even more unlike him to not respond to her texts. She curled into herself more as Shun paced in front of her, hands in his pockets. The silence in their barracks was deafening, his footsteps on the cold metal floor hardly registering as sound. She was thankful the kids were both asleep now, but hearing them up and about would’ve been a blessing in that hour of waiting.

“Still nothing?”

Mira shook her head. “No. You?”

“Nothing at all.” Shun removed his hands from his pockets to run his fingers through his hair, still maintaining his rhythmic pacing. “I’m worried. Really worried.”

“I am too. This isn’t like him,” She replied, taking a shaky breath, “I think we should go out there and look for him.”

“Where would we look? We don’t have any clues. And we can’t just leave Apollo and Asteria alone to -”

A growl interrupted Shun’s rambling. Mira’s head turned to Sy, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch with his arms folded across his chest. It was hard to tell what face he was making underneath his helmet, but when he raised his hands and motioned downwards, it became clear that he was telling Shun to calm down. Shun sighed, stopping in front of the coffee table. Somehow his expression remained blank, but hidden in his eyes was the concern of a protective older brother. Mira stood herself up, leaving her comm device on the couch as she circled the table to approach him. She reached for his hands, taking them within her own and squeezing gently.

“Wherever he is, I bet he’s fine,” She said, partially to convince Shun and partially to convince herself, “He’s strong, remember?”

“But what if something happened?” Shun responded frantically, “What if he got launched into Mount M’Gando? What if he was captured by the Ganglion and is being held hostage? What if he lost his legs to an Ictus? What if -”

“Shun.”

Mira cut him short by squeezing his hands again, and his fingers instinctively curled into hers. Shun’s words hadn’t failed to embed themselves into her brain, raise worries that she hadn’t thought possible. Pongo was strong, that she knew for certain, but he had a tendency to exceed his own limitations.

When Shun didn’t answer immediately, Mira decided to take the reigns, asking some calm yet possibly informative questions. “When was the last time we saw him? What was the last mission he took? Maybe he’s running late on a big expedition.”

“Yesterday,” Shun shook his head, “He was leaving out of the east gate. Didn’t get to talk to him since I was wrapping up a mission with Eleanora.”

“Pongo babysat the kids on Tuesday,” Mira said, “and that was the last time I saw him. Sy?”

Sy stood up, his Casca reflecting the barracks light. Slowly approaching the two, he pulled out his comm device and began to type furiously. Mira waited patiently until he flipped the screen around, showing what he’d written out.

I saw him on Tuesday as well. We were talking over dinner after we ran into each other in the commercial district. In conversation I told Pongo how I was blinded, and afterwards he wasn’t acting the same.

Shun squinted, reading alongside Mira. His hands became tense after he finished and he quickly looked away. Mira frowned, confused. “Sy, if you don’t mind me asking...do you know why Pongo would’ve reacted the way he did?”

Sy nodded and returned his focus to his comm device, typing out something new. When he directed the screen towards them again, Mira’s blood went cold.

I could be wrong, but...perhaps he meant to avenge my loss of sight by defeating the very creature that took it: Vortice, the Deific Blast.

“No. No.”

Shun practically ripped his hands out of Mira’s, heading for the weapons rack they kept close to the door. He picked up his dual guns, checking the cartridges as he spoke. It would be hardly noticeable to the average ear, but Mira could pick out how his voice quivered. “I bet he didn’t bring backup. He never brings backup. Did he even tell anyone where he was going? Damn it, what if we get there and it’s too late, what if -”

“Shun!” Mira called his name again, and he went silent, staring at her, waiting. To her left, Sy reached for her upper arm, holding up his comm device with a new message displayed on its screen.

Go with him to Cauldros. I’ll stay here and watch the kids.

Mira knew better than to argue. Shun would want her to come - the more the merrier, after all - and the kids would both understand why they left. She could see it now, the future memory of her sitting with Asteria as she painted upon a new canvas with her little fingers, asking about what dangerous missions she’d gone on and how many people she’d saved. Mira would tell the story about how she and Shun saved Pongo from a dragon, a prince in distress, and Asteria would begin to absentmindedly paint the scene as best she could, eyes wide with wonder. She’d nail the volcano, the three little figures of her family, the Deific Blast floating overhead casting its fire upon them. Would she be the knight this time, or would Shun? Who would hold the shield that protected Pongo, and who would wield the sword to slay the mighty beast?

Mira took two steps forward, about to trail Shun and grab her weapons, when the front door clicked.

It swung towards them silently, revealing a figure standing in the doorway, shoulders slumped and knees shaking. One arm was using the doorframe as support, though its lack of purchase did almost nothing to stabilize him. His hair was frizzy, unkempt, sticking up in strange directions in a chaos similar to Shun’s. His clothes were torn, some parts of his vest hanging on by mere threads. Mira grew increasingly concerned as the figure entered, and she realized he wasn’t wearing shoes, though a pair of worn down socks still covered his feet. That and his fingers were what grabbed her attention the most. It was hard to see, almost unnoticeable since he was wearing fingerless gloves, but under the shredded fabric were lines of blues and purples and reds and yellows, cascading frequently and without remorse. When he picked his head up, the lines became more apparent, strokes of paint that were eerily beautiful, the roots of a tree that had seen hell and survived. Somehow he was able to smile, though it was clear the action was painful to hold.

Shun reacted first.

“You fucking idiot.”

He put his dual guns down quickly before running up and taking Pongo in for a tight hug. Mira winced as she heard Pongo audibly cry out in pain, and Shun stepped back quickly, his hands hovering near Pongo’s shoulders as he scanned him over. Mira soon joined him, noticing that the brush strokes extended down his neck and into his torso. It would make sense if the markings on his fingers pushed further beyond as well.

“We’re happy you’re back in one piece,” She started, “But you look really hurt. Do you mind taking your vest off so I can bandage you up?”

“No, wait, we should get him to the MMC,” Shun protested, “It looks worse than meets the eye. I’m not even sure why you came here first -”

Pongo didn’t appear to be listening to him, though he turned to Mira and began to shrug off what little of his combat vest remained. With the longer sleeves disposed of, Mira could see his arms were coated in the markings, and they visibly went into his chest. Pongo, however, made no move to take off the tank top that he wore underneath his vest.

“Please, Pongo,” Mira reached out and put as gentle a hand as she could on his shoulder. But even the tiniest amount of contact made him shudder. As Shun reached down and collected what Pongo had removed, Mira began to usher Pongo further into the room, further into the light. He let her guide him, putting up little resistance. Even without showcasing his body, the canvas decorated in failed duty, it would have been obvious to Mira that he was wounded. There was something beneath the surface, more roots penetrating below the skin, that was sapping his strength.

In the common area, Sy made a small noise, likely one of worry. But Mira focused on keeping Pongo steady, and she moved to his backside and began to unzip the back of his tank top. Her hands were slow and steady, but her breaths shook as every new stroke of paint was revealed. She had been right; these scars extended onto his torso, but they seemed to pass down below his belt, too. There was no part of his skin untouched by the paint.

It was horrifying. It was painful to look at, painful to imagine the circumstances.

“Holy shit…” Shun placed Pongo’s tattered vest and gloves on the couch, able to see Pongo’s front half, the damage he’d been hiding. Mira helped Pongo slip out of the tank top and tossed it into the pile Shun had made. His chest was just as bad as his back, if not worse. A tear formed in the corner of Mira’s eye, and though she tried to hide the reason she was wiping her eye, Pongo caught on.

“I am alright, I promise...just a few bruises. I have faced worse.”

“A few bruises? A few?!” Shun was holding back as much as he could, but every ounce of anger and concern and frustration was leaking through his veyes. “You’re really hurt, Pongo. How can’t you see that?!”

Sy growled loudly, throwing his shoulders back as he added on to what Shun had said. Pongo’s eyes went wide, his smile fading. “Did you really expect me to sit back and not do anything about it?! You did not deserve what happened to you - I can and will take more hits than this to see your revenge carried out.”

Another set of growls, and Pongo began to cry, tears staining his purple and red cheeks. “You do not understand!! I fought to avenge you because I care about you!!” His chest heaved and he took a deep breath, hands shaking at his sides. “But in the end, I...it got away, neither of us died, and I failed you Sy’Chell I am so sorry I failed you -”

“Be quiet.” Shun told Pongo sternly, “None of that matters right now. You need rest.”

Mira opened her mouth, ready to agree, but Pongo cried out, “I will not rest until that fucking monster pays for what it did!!”

The force of his own voice, a vigor that did not match his physical state, caused Pongo to yelp in pain. Mira knew that all previous attempts at contact led to pain, and yet she knew Pongo thrived off of physical touch. She took one of his hands in both her own, caressing the skin beneath as softly as possible. She could swear she felt his blood tingling, occasional pulses pushing through, the faintest remnants of static electricity radiating off of his fingertips.

“Honey, do you think you can get the guest bedroom set up?” Mira looked over her shoulder as she began to lead Pongo away, “I’m taking him to the bathroom to get him patched up as best I can.”

Shun nodded, effortlessly walking past Pongo and Mira to get the bedroom organized. Pongo said nothing to retaliate, resigned to his pain, resigned to his weakness. Approaching the hallway towards the bathroom and bedrooms, Mira gave Sy one last sympathetic glance before turning back to Pongo.

That glance was all it took for Pongo to speak to the kids first.

“Good morning, you two!” Pongo chirped, his voice cracking by the end.

Apollo and Asteria hadn’t fully left their bedroom yet, their tiny heads peeking out of the doorframe. Wide eyes and innocent curiosity were given the image of a broken prince, one who had faced a dragon with a sword and shield and came home defeated. They were too young to know the truth - she promised herself that should they ask, Pongo defeated the dragon, he saved the day. It was his determination and resilience alone, a lone fighter in an impossible battle.

“You should get back to sleep, you two,” Mira told them, and they almost listened. But the door stayed propped open as Pongo called out, still attempting to carry the painful burden of a smile.

“Right. I can tell you about these when you get your rest, okay? Sleep is important, especially for you.”

“But Uncle Pon, you don’t sleep at all,” Apollo commented, and Pongo giggled at that.

“The villains never sleep and the heroes never rest, as the saying goes.”

Turning to Asteria, the young and kind and creative little girl Mira loved with all her heart, Pongo offered one last smile.

“I am sorry I was late; maybe we can paint tomorrow?”

#xenoblade x #His Body The Canvas: Short Story #Shun #Mira #sy'chell #THIS WAS SO SATISFYING.....#I amped up the Big Bro Shun a little bit because let's face it #if my little bro walked in covered in lightning scars I'd be a Bit Upset

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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

To Build A Home (8)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rosa Diaz x fem!reader

Summary: Rosa spent years building a friendship, relationship, and eventually a marriage and home with you. This tale follows your journey together up until her sudden murder. Now that you’ve tracked down her killer before anyone else, will you do the right thing and send him to prison or take care of him yourself?

Warnings: angst, grief, more angst, hospital and blood mentions, major character death

A/N: I apologize personally to everyone that reads this chapter. we have sad!reader this time and angry!reader next time. we also get to find out how reader handles Rosa’s killer and who it is if you haven’t figured it out already. anyway, excited to hear your thoughts and even more excited for Sad Sunday tomorrow featuring B99 squad and Avengers finally!

Previous chapter here

Warm.

Your hands felt warm, each one held by either Jake or Amy. You couldn’t tell who was who anymore, you just knew that your foursome was missing a member. One that was losing blood faster than they could replace, one that you’d loved since you met, one that you promised to love until death parts you and then some. One that was slowly slipping away.

Warm.

When the couple had arrived after your call to Amy, followed by the rest of the squad they’d called on the way there, you were shivering. Not one person dared to ask why, you were simply covered in Terry’s jacket. It surrounded you in a warmth that reminded you of your wife’s embrace. The thought made you feel sick, but you pushed it aside, not having the energy for anything more than staring at the wall and waiting for less devastating news.

Hot.

The tears that coated your cheeks burned your skin, an unwanted reminder that you were still alive when the doctor told you her heart stopped for a final time. Jake and Amy’s sobs could be heard from beside you, and you pulled away from their grasp and pushed them toward each other, deciding to wrap your arms around yourself instead.

Cold.

You were the last to enter Rosa’s room to “say goodbye” before she was sent off to the morgue. A nurse attempted to give you her ring but you asked--begged--them to put it back on her finger, something you knew she’d want. You dared to touch her left hand with yours, forcing yourself to cover your mouth with your free hand when a scream threatened to break free. You hated the sensation more than anything in the world.

Cold metal on colder skin.

Arlo greeted you when you returned, sniffing the bag containing Rosa’s jacket, shoes, jewelry and phone. He whined at the door when you locked it, as if he knew that only one person coming home tonight was wrong. You simply dropped to the floor in front of the couch, opening your arms and welcoming him into your embrace. It was the only comfort you could offer him.

Your phone rang and rang until you turned it off completely, welcoming the silence. You were afraid to turn the TV on in fear of catching anything Rosa even slightly enjoyed, and you didn’t dare to look at the table where her favorite takeout had gone cold. Your furry son had drifted into slumber but your eyes were stuck open, barely taking the time to blink.

At some point in the night exhaustion took over, and you were suddenly waking to blinding sunlight and an insistent paw on your face from a pup that really needed to go outside. You walked him to the quieter area of the neighborhood Rosa always took him to, deciding to turn your phone back on as he did his business in a patch of grass. The missed calls and a few texts started rolling in immediately.

“Please call me. I’m worried about you.” -Amy

“Or at least send a text.” -Amy

“If your phone died, I’m sorry about this.” -Amy

“I love you so much, N/N. Also Amy wants you to call her back.” -Charles

“Take off as long as you need. We all care about you deeply and apologize for your terrible loss. We will all miss Detective Diaz to the greatest extent. Sincerely, Raymond Holt.” -Holt, of course

“I don’t know if Holt told you yet but you can take off as long as you need to, okay? I’ll be by later to check on you.” -Terry

You cleared them all, deciding after you were back inside of the apartment to call Amy. Fear pumped through your veins like unshed blood as the phone rang, terrified to break the quiet bubble you’d fallen into with a voice that would remind you that the events of the night before were real.

“Hello?” The deeper, groggy voice surprised you.

“Jake? Sorry, I didn’t mean to...I just wanted--”

“No no, it’s okay!” he responded, suddenly sounding much more alert. “Amy’s taking a shower and I like to sleep until it’s my turn. Um, anyway, I know this is the dumbest question in the world, but how are you? How do you feel?”

“Numb,” you answered immediately. “And like something’s missing but I can’t focus on what it is or it’ll destroy me.” You cleared your throat. “What about you and Ames?”

“Also feeling like something is missing.” You didn’t miss the way his voice cracked in the beginning. “It hit Amy right away but once she was able to stop crying all she could do was worry about you. When your phone stopped ringing she wanted to come over, but she also didn’t want to suffocate you if you needed space.”

“I appreciate it.”

A voice in the background and shuffling was heard, and suddenly you were hearing your best friend for the first time in hours.

“Hey! I’m sorry I called so many times last night. Were you able to get some sleep?”

“I think so, because suddenly the sun was out and Arlo was begging me to take him out to shit.”

A light chuckle was heard through the phone. “So do you need anything? I can pick up breakfast from that diner you like, or--”

“Actually, I could use a ride to the precinct if you’re working today. If not, I can just take a cab.” You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “I just don’t trust myself to drive yet.”

“Jake is going there soon to grab something, so he can take you. But are you sure you don’t want to wait a few days, at least?”

“I’m sure. I don’t want anyone else working on this case.”

After a short car ride full of you ignoring the tears in Jake’s eyes because you were wearing one of Rosa’s many leather jackets, you arrived at the precinct feeling a bit nervous. A surprised yelp left you when Jake suddenly pulled you into a hug, squeezing you firmly, but with care.

“Sorry,” he sniffled as he pulled away. “I don’t know if I did that because I thought you needed it or I did.” You simply granted him a weak smile and an understanding squeeze of your hand as you passed him.

A few moments of intimidation later, you were seated at Amy’s old desk with your laptop and the surveillance footage of last night, not being able to stomach sitting at your own across from Rosa’s. Your heartbeat began to pick up the farther you fast forwarded, until you stopped at the sight of Rosa on the screen.

She walked right into the view of the camera, a bag in her hand as she talked on the phone with you. You watched her hang up and start dialing again. Minutes passed and suddenly a person wearing all black with a covered face was running across the street toward her, being followed slowly by an older white man that was raising a gun. You watched with wide eyes and held breath as he shot sloppily, missing the runner and hitting your wife instead, just as her cab pulled up.

Luckily her body fell from view behind the yellow car, because your eyes refused to look away. The shooter took off as the cab driver scrambled out of the vehicle, frantically dialing on his cellphone as he came to the passenger side and onto the sidewalk. Shaking fingers used the mousepad of the laptop to rewind, pausing when the gunman appeared and zooming in on that older white man with graying hair. Noticing the area and realizing where the camera footage was downloaded from, you came to a conclusion.

You were on your feet in no time, obtaining your gun and keys to an unmarked vehicle fairly quickly. You didn’t have any minutes or seconds to spare now that you knew which piece-of-shit individual you had to pay a visit to, who was going to feel the hot anger that spread through your once cold and numb bones.

Tags: @creepingwolfberry @rosadiazswifey @milkfromhell @marie-03 @gaulty74 @jay-is-groovy @xetherealbeautyx

#to build a home #rosa diaz #rosa diaz x reader #rosa diaz imagine #rosa diaz x fem!reader #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine fic series #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 fic series #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic #b99 #stephanie beatriz

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yoongi-sugaglider · 4 years

Text

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, blood, gun shot wounds, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2172

A/n: Omgg I am soooo sorry!! I forgot to add a read more T.T I fixed it I promise!!!

Part 13===Part 14===Part 15

Jungkook was blind fury and rage, seeking those that'd dare harm what was his. He stalked through the halls, all caution thrown to the wayside as he mowed down body after body heading his way. It wasn’t the infected he was looking for though.

“SEO EUN KWANG!!!” Jungkook’s voice rang through the hotel lobby, echoing in the empty expanse as he stopped in the center of the empty space to stare around.

“You know Boss…” A condescending voice drew his attention to the check in desk, “I never really wanted things to go down like this…”

Jungkook drew his gun to center mass, face a mask of emotionless disinterest at the man’s words. “Minhyuk and Sungjae are dead.” He growled the words out, vision tinted red at the corners as he watched Eun Kwang sigh and shake his head.

“I told them to take the night off. They weren’t even supposed to be at the warehouse. But you know how it is. Balancing out a mutiny with an apocalypse is just never going to go in anyone’s favor.”

“A fucking mutiny? What the hell is this, Pirates of the fucking Caribbean? You betrayed me Eun Kwang. After everything you fucking sell out piece of low end garbage. Not only that, you got HER shot.”

The older man shook his head once more with a laugh, leaning forward to place his elbows on the checkout desk’s high wall and tap at his temple with his gun. “Little dongsaeng, it was always in the cards for this to happen. You were just too blind to see that one little boy from Busan could never handle running the entirety of Daegu. You dreamed big, yeah. But kid, this city was just too big for you.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Jungkook stalked forward, arms never wavering as he sighted the gun right for the center of Eun Kwang’s forehead. “I never wanted to run this whole town. You fuckers put that on me. I just wanted to make enough to get by. Make sure my girl had everything she needed. None of that included taking over a damn thing!”

“Easy there little cowboy. Another step closer and my boys are gonna have to protect me and the last thing I wanna do is end up killing you.” Eun Kwang smirked as Jungkook halted in place, eyes darting around to spot three men stepping from the shadows, each with their guns aimed at him and almost manic grins gracing their faces.

***

Pain.

Everything was pain and screaming.

“You’ve got to get her to wake up!”

I couldn’t help but to groan, hands reaching out to grab the nearest person as I fought against the pressure held against my outer thigh.

“It hurts...make it stop it hurts!” I whimpered, blurry gaze taking in the worried faces of Seokjin and Yoongi who were working to hold me down. Rose’s face appeared above me, panicked as she shushed me and pressed down on my forehead to keep me still.

We were in a room of some sort, no longer in the hotel kitchen so I couldn’t be sure how long I’d been out cold. Cleaning supplies surrounded us but the pain in my chest and leg kept me from being able to take in any more information as Yoongi had renewed the pressure on the molten mass of ouch that was my thigh.

“Can’t...breath…” I whimpered out.

“Release the straps on her vest. The ceramic plates will have shattered, if she’s got any broken ribs it’s gonna get a lot worse for her.” The voice in my ear crackled to life, startling me as I struggled for a moment to register Jimin’s calm tones whispering in my ear.

Seokjin released my uninjured leg, moving to lift my upper body. The pressure on my chest increased, blinding me for a moment as my lungs decided they didn’t want to work. I stared up at the ceiling, mouth open in a silent scream and tears chasing each other down my cheeks as Jin unzipped my jacket and fumbled to release the straps that’d been holding my tactical vest together.

As the straps released air whooshed into my lungs and I let out a sob of relief, though it didn’t last long as a strange shifting in my chest caused more pain to shoot through me.

“F...fuck…” I coughed, turning my head in Rose’s lap and shutting my eyes as a wave of dizziness rolled over me.

“Alright, once she’s breathing better shift those plates around and strap her back in.” Jimin’s voice came again and I turned my head towards Jin, eyes wide as I shook my head desperately to stop him. But it didn’t matter, and deep down I knew it as Jin pulled the straps tight and snapped them back into place. The pressure was a bit better, but damn did it hurt.

“Yoongi, have you got your silencer barrel on you?”

Yoongi grunted in reply, turning with one hand still holding pressure on my leg as he unscrewed the barrel from his sniper rifle.

“I’d tell you to fire off a round or two but...not now…”

“I know what you’re gonna say…” Yoongi shifted upwards on his knees, placing the silencer on my chest for a moment and digging into his pocket. His hand reappeared and I watched on in a confused haze of pain and worry.

He nodded to Jin who groaned to himself as he picked up the silencer and held it delicately out to Yoongi. The silent assassin reached out, flicking a lighter and producing a flame that licked at the cold steel of the barrel.

My eyes widened in panic and I began to struggle, knowing deep down exactly what they were about to do.

“Keep her still.” Yoongi growled and Rose rushed to comply.

She grabbed my flailing arms, pinning them down to my sides as she shifted forward to keep a better hold on me.

Me struggling didn’t matter.

The pain no longer mattered.

The...the smell of my own flesh searing didn’t matter.

Only the bliss of one final scream chased closely by unconsciousness.

***

“Oh god…” Rose retched, losing her grip on the limp woman as Yoongi continued his grim work.

It really took no more than a moment to cauterize the bullet wound. It stretched less than 3 inches along the expanse of her outer thigh, but the blood loss alone would have caused quite an issue later on, not to mention the risk of infection. Yoongi treated the wound as best he could, wrapping it in the remains of the shirt Jungkook had tossed them before they’d locked themselves inside the supply closet of the hotel.

Seokjin sniffed, covering his nose with the back of his wrist as he stared forlorn down at the cold sweat that glistened from the unconscious form of one of his favorite people. He shook his head, grinding his teeth before tapping the inner earpiece to signal to Jimin they’d finished the work.

The haggard doctor sighed through the communication device. “She should be safe to move. Just try not to jostle her ribs too much. I take it what Yoongi did made her pass out?”

Rose whimpered, fingernails digging painful crescents into the palms of her hands as she struggled to regain control of the tears flowing down her cheeks. True, she’d been desperate for rescue the moment the news started rambling about people eating each other but...this? This wasn’t what she’d hoped for. She’d never wanted any of them getting hurt.

“I’ll hand things over to Tae, I’ve got to go get the infirmary prepped for when you guys get here. Try not to get hurt in the meantime…”

Yoongi grunted, eyes focused in on the hasty bandages as if waiting for them to bleed through. Taehyung’s voice returned, strained as if he’d been crying though none of them commented on his tone of voice.

“Alright, I’ve got visuals on Boss and Hoseok. The alley looks clear from this angle, along with the side streets that’ll lead you guys back in this direction.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Boss, I know you want to go after them...but we’ve got to get her back home. Yoongi hyung and Jin hyung could manage it solo but not without risking getting hurt or worse..infected…”

There was a brief moment of silence before Hoseok’s voice crackled over the line. “We’re headed back. Get ready to move out.”

Yoongi nodded to the two figures either side of him, tucking the silencer barrel into a side pocket on his black cargo pants before handing the rifle itself over to Seokjin.

The trio were silent aside from the occasional sniffle from Rose but eventually they managed to pack as much as they could away, checking to ensure their weapons were all reloaded in the process.

Yoongi worked gingerly, lifting y/n’s limp form into his arms bridal style and turning to nod to Jin. A single tap to the earpiece and the others were alerted that they were ready to move out and head home.

***

“Hobi hush. I’ve already told you none of the wounds are life threatening. If you wake the Boss I swear to all the high heavens that I’m blaming it on you and running.”

The whispering voices woke me, a welcome balm to the chaos that had been my nightmares.

Before opening my eyes and alerting them to my consciousness I took a moment to take stock of what I was feeling. The throbbing in my leg had gone away, probably due to whatever medication Jimin had managed to get in me. The weight alone let me know that it’d been treated and wrapped, though the weight in my chest hadn’t eased much.

I groaned, shifting a bit in an attempt to get a bigger breath of air. This got the attention of the two whispering voices which quickly stopped talking followed by the distinctive sound of shuffling bodies. After a moment a small hand slipped around mine, lifting it slightly as Jimin’s voice followed.

“Hey Boss Lady, you waking up?”

I peeled my eyelids open, one at a time before blinking to clear the blur and focusing on the two concerned faces hovering over me.

“Mmm...think I’m awake, though somehow I feel like I should be far more grateful for that stockpile of pain meds you like to keep around.”

Jimin gave me a shaky grin and a sniffle from beside him caught my attention. Lifting my head slightly I caught the sight of a forlorn Hoseok, eyes puffy and the normally sunshine glow of his grin nowhere to be seen. I let go of Jimin’s hand, fingers wiggling to catch Hobi’s attention.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m okay I promise.”

The poor boy whimpered, lower lip sticking out as he grabbed my hand in both of his. Closing his eyes he leaned forward, forehead pressed to my fingers as he sniffled his way out of the tears.

“Don’t...don’t do that to me again Boss Lady. I don’t like it when you get hurt….”

I shook my head, giving a short laugh that only served to leave my head swimming as whatever was going wrong with my ribs shifted. “Ho...boy…” Releasing Hobi’s hand I arched my back as best I could, inhaling deeply and wincing as something strange popped in my chest.

“Alright now.” Jimin muttered, pushing me back down onto the bed with a frown. “I know it’s hard to breathe, but try not to breathe too deeply. You want those ribs to heal up properly you’re gonna wanna give them a chance to settle back where they belong.”

I nodded, though relaxing back to where I’d been laying was harder than I wanted. I glanced to my other side, realising that the reason I hadn’t been able to move that hand was because a pair of incredibly toned arms was wrapped around it and a shaggy head of hair was currently pinning it to the bed.

I turned to the other two boys, arching an eyebrow at them in questioning.

“He hasn’t left your side since you all got back. Course...he hasn’t said much either.” Jimin sighed, rubbing his temples to release some of his pent up stress and then carding a hand through his hair.

“Mmm… how long was I out?”

“Half a day. The Boss only just passed out about an hour ago though…”

I nodded, gaze returning sadly to the softly snoring form beside me. My heart ached for him, even knowing I was the one injured not him. I waved my hand, giving the two boys a soft smile to let them know I’d be alright on my own.

They left, Hobi sniffling the whole way as Jimin softly closed the door behind him. It was better to let Jungkook sleep. Things would run just fine without him for a while.

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts zombie au #jungkook zombie au #bts gang au #jungkook gang au #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader insert #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader inster #my writing

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yoddream · 4 years

Text

walk | l.dh

pairing: Haechan x fem!reader

warnings: car accident, blood, mentions of paralysis, angst, broken bones

summary: it all happened so fast

word count: 1,972 (ik it’s short im sorry i wanna try to think of a long story with him but im a little stuck rn)

a/n: hey y’all. i’m really sorry it’s short. there are all these ideas in my phone on what to write and this was one of them so i chose to use haechan. nobody’s sending any requests in, so i’m getting stuck with my work. i’m still working on my bad body jeno one but it’s a really long one so it’s gonna be a while. i will gladly take requests (as long as it’s not smut) so please send them in! gotta get the creative juices flowin n shit

It was easier to say what didn’t hurt rather than what did. Your legs didn’t hurt, but that was because you couldn’t feel them. It was terrifying, to keep it simple. You couldn’t even remember what had happened. You and Donghyuck were driving home from dinner with your friends. You kept your eyes on the road even though wanted to look at your best friend and admire him as he sang along to the songs that were floating from the speakers. His car was in the shop, so you were driving him home. There was a flash of lights—

Right. A car had swerved into your lane. You turned the wheel to avoid getting hit, but instead the car rolled a couple times before landing on the roof. That’s where you were now: upside down in the middle of the road. You didn’t know where the other car was, but you knew they weren’t as bad as you two.

“Y/N. Y/N!” Donghyuck shouted.

“I’m here, Hyuck,” you assured him. “I’m here.”

“Oh, thank god. I was worried you were passed out or—” He didn’t have to finish that sentence for you to understand what he had been thinking.

“Good thing I refused to leave until you buckled your seatbelt, huh?” you joked.

There was a rough chuckle. “Only you would find now is a good time to make jokes.”

You paused. “I’m scared, Hyuck.”

“I am too, but we’re gonna get out of this,” he promised you. “We’re gonna get out, we’re gonna walk away from this, and we’ll take that road trip you’ve been planning since the beginning of high school.”

“I can’t feel my legs.”

The car slowly lit up as emergency vehicles got closer. “Then I’ll wheel you away, but we’re getting out.”

“Hyuck, I’m tired.”

“No, no, no, do not close your eyes. Stay with me, Y/N. Please, stay with me,” he begged.

“I’ll try, but I really wanna sleep,” you stated.

“You’ll be able to sleep at the hospital but I need you to stay awake for me, doll. I know you can do it.”

You could hear him tell the EMTs to get you out first, but your eyes refused to stay opened. You mumbled an apology before completely losing consciousness. The last thing you remembered was the flash of yellow from a firefighter’s jacket.

///

Donghyuck wanted to see you so badly, but you were in surgery, and he had a broken arm that needed to be set before put in a cast. He knew absolutely nothing, and it was driving him insane. He and Renjun were your only emergency contacts, so the other boy was on his way to the hospital. You lost contact with your parents as soon as you had turned eighteen, tired of their disapproval with every decision you made, whether it was the friends you made or however you decided to change your hairstyle. Donghyuck and the rest of the guys were all you had.

You and Donghyuck had met in the third grade when you moved to the neighborhood. He’d immediately pulled you into his friend group consisting of Chenle, Jaemin, Jeno, Jisung, and Renjun. It was a wide variety of personalities, yet you somehow managed to get along with all of them. They felt there was no one else in the world that could cackle with Chenle one minute and have deep conversations with Renjun the next. No one could stand Jaemin’s affection as much as you, and no one could sit with Jeno for hours upon hours listening to music without speaking like you. You were the reason Jisung was able to break out of his shell and get a girlfriend, and you were the reason Donghyuck was a ray of sunshine.

“Hyuck!” He looked up and found Renjun’s head bobbing through the busy emergency room. “Hyuck, what happened? Where’s Y/N?”

“We were—we were in a car accident. It rolled. Renjun, I—” Donghyuck was at a loss for words.

“Do you know if she’s going to be okay?”

“There was so much blood. She lost so much. She’s in surgery right now, but I don’t know what they’re working on. She couldn’t feel her legs.”

Renjun’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, a rare sight. He nodded before taking his phone out, muttering something about calling the others. He was about to step away when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He looked up and frowned. There was fear written all over Donghyuck’s face; the boy didn’t want to be left alone at all.

The two of them sat on the bed as they waited for either the doctor or their friends to show up, whoever came first. Even though his arm was broken, Donghyuck felt numb. He just wanted to see you, to hold your hand, to hear your laugh again. He wanted all of that, but he couldn’t get it. He didn’t know if he ever would.

The guys ended up arriving at the same time the doctor needed to help Donghyuck with his arm. Renjun filled them in quickly before going to sit with him while his arm was set. He was silent through the whole thing, and the doctor seemed concerned by the lack of reaction.

“Did you feel that?” she asked.

Donghyuck shrugged. “Probably.”

“He’ll definitely feel it later,” Renjun assured her. “Right now, uh, our best friend is in surgery. We don’t know how it’ll turn out.”

She nodded in understanding. “Okay. Well, I’m going to write you a prescription for some pain medication. Take it every four hours if needed. There are no refills, so if you run out or feel you need something with less strength, take some ibuprofen.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Renjun said as he took the paper.

They headed back to the emergency room to sit with their friends as they waited for your surgeon to appear with whatever news she had. Renjun was pacing, never one to sit still. Jisung was asleep in Jeno’s lap, his whole body curled up. Chenle was playing a game on his phone to keep himself distracted, but he looked to Jisung to check on him every few minutes. Jaemin was a few feet away, trying to work the coffee vending machine. Donghyuck watched people filter in and out of the waiting room for hours until the sun rose. When he heard your name called, he stood up so quickly he almost fell over from the blood rush.

“How is she? Is she okay?” he asked as the others woke up and joined him.

“Everything went well. She lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop it. We, unfortunately, don’t know when she’ll wake up. With all the injuries she sustained, it could range from a couple hours to a couple days,” the surgeon explained.

“What about her legs? Hyuck said she couldn’t feel them,” Renjun stated.

She paused. “One of the lumbar vertebrae was fractured in the accident, and it’s currently compressing onto her spinal cord. Right now, she’s in a brace to take some pressure of her spine, but we can’t perform any surgery until she’s well enough.”

“Can we see her?” Chenle asked.

“Unfortunately, only family can.”

“We are her family,” Donghyuck said.

“I understand that you’re worried, but unless you’re her actual family—”

He cut her off. “Damn it, she doesn’t have family! We’re all she has!”

A silence fell upon the whole room, and it took him a couple seconds to realize what he’d done. He started apologizing profusely, but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“Don’t worry, I get it. I’ll let the nurses know that you all are considered family.”

She gave them directions to your room. They didn’t hesitate to rush down the hallway, but not before yelling out their thanks. When they reached your room, it took them a moment to realize that they were looking at you. Your face was covered in bruises, and there were quite a few butterfly bandages on your cheeks and forehead. Your arms were wrapped in gauze, and your torso was in a giant brace. You were almost unrecognizable.

Donghyuck grabbed a chair and dragged it to your bedside. He reached out his good hand and grabbed your own, careful of the cuts that were on your skin. Jaemin grabbed the other chair, letting Jeno sit on the arm of it. The others stood at the end of the bed, seemingly scared to step closer.

“Jesus, Y/N. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” Jeno mumbled.

The only response was the rise and fall of your chest.

///

It was a process trying to wake up. First, you felt the pain in your back. Next, you heard the heart monitor that you were strapped to. Then, you smelled the sterile air of the hospital. Finally, you opened your eyes, squinting against the sunlight. You looked around and spotted Jaemin and Chenle sitting by the window. Chenle looked over first, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Hey, you’re awake!” he announced.

Jaemin’s head whipped around, his eyes wide with shock. He grinned as well and walked over. His hand reached up to push the hair from your face as he asked how you were feeling. You whined in discomfort, knowing he understood to an extent how much pain your back was in. As glad as you were to talk to them, there was somebody more important you needed to see.

“Where’s Hyuck?” you asked. When they didn’t answer right away, you started to panic. “Where is he?”

“I’m right here.”

You looked to the door and sighed with relief when your eyes landed on your best friend. His arm was in a cast and sling, and there were a few cuts and bruises on his face, but he was otherwise okay. He rushed forward and hugged you as gently as he could before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Told you we would make it out of there,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, sounds like I might walk away too,” you replied.

When he pulled away, there was a fond smile on his face. “Good, because you’re heavy.”

Gasping, you reached out to hit his good arm. He yelped and whined about how it wasn’t fair, but you rolled your eyes and called him a big baby. He turned to complain to Chenle and Jaemin, but to your surprise, they were gone.

“Huh. Wonder when they left,” you commented.

Sitting down, Donghyuck took your hand in his and squeezed lightly. “You really scared me, you know.”

You nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to get hit, so I turned the car so I would—”

“Wait, what?” His eyes widened in surprise at your words.

“When—when the car hit us. I turned the car so it would hit me,” you admitted.

He frowned, his eyes glistening with tears that you knew he would do his best to hold back. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I love you, dumbass.” After what you’d gone through, you didn’t want to hold it in anymore. “I love you so fucking much. If you died, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“And you think I would’ve just lived my life like nothing?” he argued. “No, no way. I would be absolutely crushed. So don’t go talking like my heart wouldn’t be broken if I lost my other half.”

He kissed the back of your hand and added, “As soon as you’re out of here, I’m dating you so hard. I’m talking fancy dinners with candles and everything.”

You tried to fight back the smile that was threatening to spread across your face, but it couldn’t be stopped. “Good, because I don’t want anyone else to.”

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starlightsearches · 4 years

Text

Office Romance: Ch. 13 Interrogations

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Hello everyone! Here is chapter 13, as promised! There are some references to torture in this one, so be aware of that, and Kylo Ren does hurt someone while interrogating them, which is described in the story.

In your mind, three things happened at once: the sound of the blaster shot echoed in your ears, a scream pierced the air, and the impact, not from the plasma bolt, but from the general, sweeping you into his arms and pulling you out of harm's way. His hand cradled the back of your neck to protect your head, and you hit the floor, the weight of him pressing against you, shielding you from the attack. The room was silent for a moment. All you could hear was the general’s breathing, heavy against the skin of your neck.

Outside your line of sight, chaos erupted. You nudged Hux gently, and he paused before rolling off of you, his other arm still warm and firm around your waist behind your back. You managed to stand, pulling him to his feet as well, and then adjusted your dress; the neckline had slipped dangerously low from your tumble, and your cheeks went red, although the general pretended not to notice, shielding you delicately from view. The crowd was frantic, people fleeing towards the exits only to be cut off by Storm Troopers who were blocking the doors to stop anyone from escaping. It was protocol for any attempted assassinations.

Assassination. God, was that something you’d have to worry about now? The plasma bolt hovered in the air, only a few feet away from the podium where you had been standing, a grim reminder of what could have happened if the others had not acted so quickly. You searched the room for Ren and found him standing by his seat, the strain of exertion clear in his posture, and you knew that it had taken considerable effort for him to stop the shot at such short range. He couldn’t hold on anymore, and the plasma bolt collided with the wall behind the stage, the sound of it echoed by a cry from the guests, who had now stopped their futile dash to the doors and instead turned back to see what the hell had happened.

Phasma had subdued the shooter on her own, taking his blaster, removing the helmet from his head. It wasn’t one of your Troopers; you had never seen the man before in your life. He was handsome, in a morbid way, with black hair wild and messy from the helmet, and sharp cheekbones—a face carved from stone. The look in his eyes was anything but stony: his face was full of an unfettered loathing as he looked at you from across the ballroom. “Get him out of here,” Phasma ordered, and two Troopers materialized to escort the impostor third out of the room through the now silent and waiting crowd. All eyes turned to you.

This would be a defining moment; you had to react carefully. If you ran now, if you showed any fear, it would be the start of a reputation that would follow you throughout your career in the Order. It would find its way to the Resistance, to the HoloNet, would echo around the galaxy into the waiting ears of every potential enemy and supporter. Would you be known as nothing more than a young, silly girl in a low-cut dress who fled at the first sign of trouble? Never.

“It seems at least one person thinks that my speech has gone on too long,” you began, smoothing your skirt and hoping to look at ease, as if attempts on your life happened every day. A few people tittered nervously at your joke, and you relaxed, growing more confident in your decision, “perhaps we should move on to the dancing?”

The small transport was terribly cramped, the tension stifling as you, General Hux, Ren, and the prisoner made your way back to the Finalizer. In a fit of uncharacteristic indulgence, Hux removed his suit jacket and tie, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, hoping to make himself more comfortable, but it was without success. The party was over now, and the guests—while a little nervous—had recovered quickly, dancing and socializing as they were accustomed to at other parties where no one’s life was threatened. You had played off the ordeal incredibly, and Hux was impressed. He had watched you closely the rest of the night as you participated in the festivities with enthusiasm, charming everyone in sight, the whole room enamored with the young, new and brave lieutenant general. He, too, had tried to focus on the party, and even though it had been difficult to resist the powerful urge to run off to somewhere safe with you in tow, he had managed.

It seemed that Pryde had been thinking the same thing. Multiple times during the evening, the general had found Pryde watching him, shooting daggers with his venomous gaze, as if it had been Hux’s fault that you had almost been shot instead of the opposite. He had ignored the looks rather well, but they left him with a creeping chill.

And still, an even stronger feeling lingered, one that both embarrassed him and thrilled him to his core. The moment he tackled you to the ground should not be the one stuck in his mind, but it was, replaying over and over again, slower each time, more detailed. He had no way to know what it had looked like from the outside, but inside, it had felt . . . breathtaking, in the best way, like you were falling in slow motion, the fabric of your skirt wrapping its way around his legs, as if you were diving into a bed of rose petals and not to the cold and unwelcoming floor of the ballroom. He imagined it was like the cover of those romance novels he had always been fascinated by but had never been brave enough to pick up. He couldn’t forget the sensation of his hand at the back of your neck, like it was made to hold you in just this way, and the look on your face as he stared into your eyes: no trace of panic, almost serene, but holding something deeper beneath the surface, as if you were about to ask a question he had been longing to hear and he already knew that the answer would be yes.

You were sitting next to him in the transport, still dressed for the party as well. It was small, with few seats, and Ren was standing up against the wall. You looked at the prisoner with a casual curiosity and the man stared back with venom.

“Would you like something to drink?” You spoke to him, your voice light, almost friendly, and he said nothing in response; there was a gag over his mouth, but he nodded after serious thought. Standing from the couch, you grabbed a canteen from nearby and moved to sit beside the would-be killer, but Ren grabbed you by the arm as you scooted past him, stopping your approach.

“You can’t be serious.” He had taken the mask off now that you were in a private setting, and his face betrayed more than just worry under Hux’s scrutiny. It made the general nervous; how had things between the two of you changed so quickly? Was it really so dangerous to leave you alone with him? Hux would have to deal with that problem later.

“What’s he going to do, Ren?” you asked, attempting to pull away, “He’s cuffed and there’s three of us. If he tries anything, just kill him.” You moved towards the bench again, but Ren gripped your arm tighter, his growing frustration matching your own. Both of you turned to look at Hux expectantly, hoping for support. The general was at a loss for words; seeing that Ren expected Hux to side with him was much too strange.

“Let her talk to him,” He said, shrugging, and a victorious smirk splashed across your face. Ren let go of you, but he made his fury at the general apparent, huffing and glaring, leaning back against the wall with passive frustration. You ignored his whining and sat by the prisoner, gently untying the gag and taking the back of his head in your hand, lifting the canteen to his lips for him to drink.

“What’s your name?” you asked softly, as swallowed the water. He looked at you curiously, but made no response.

“Who sent you?” You asked again, your voice so low and calm and terribly at odds with the situation at hand that Hux had to clench his jaw to keep from speaking. The prisoner nudged the canteen away from his face roughly when he finished, and stared at you, licking his lips and looking reflective. For a moment Hux thought that the man might speak, and he leaned forward to listen, watching as the man moved closer to you as if to whisper a secret, and then without warning, spat in your face.

Hux was out of his chair before you could stop him, the loud smack echoing against the durasteel walls as he slapped the prisoner with the back of his hand. The man tried to shield himself with his arms, still cuffed in front of him, and you looked to Hux, your own hand raised in warning, pressing into his abdomen to keep him at a distance. He stopped, the heat of your fingers burning into the skin of his midriff, and the unspoken communication between you sent a shiver down his spine.

“It’s fine, General.” You spoke calmly, but there was a warning look in your eyes as you wiped the spit off of your cheek with the back of your hand. Hux couldn’t move, torn between the need to demonstrate his trust in you and the intense desperation to protect you from further harm. It seemed that you recognized his internal struggle, and your hand moved from his stomach to his side, your thumb tracing a wide half-circle across his midsection, your hand still firm, but gentler now, comforting.

“It’s fine, Armitage,” you said quietly, and the sound of his name from your lips tipped the scales for Hux. He found his seat again, while Ren’s glare burned into the side of his head.

“Tell me who you’re working for,” you tried again, addressing the prisoner.

“I’m not telling you anything,” he said, his voice a low rasp, and he stared up at the ceiling of the transport, his cheek red where Hux had hit him.

“Fine. Have it your way. Let’s try this instead: stop me if I’m wrong,” you turned to face him, observing him carefully, and the man watched you, surprised, “You’re not Resistance, I don’t think. They have no reason to target me, especially with how many high-ranking officials were in that room. I’m sure I’m pretty low on their list.”

“There are lots of others who might want to hurt the Order though, and they’re usually willing to pay. You’re probably a bounty hunter, but not a very good one, it seems. Most guild bounty hunters are trained vigorously; training that includes instruction to refuse food and drink in the event of capture.” You paused to look at the man pointedly, and his face contorted in rage, but you continued on.

“That means that you’re probably hiring yourself out independently to people who don’t know any better. The First Order has many enemies, but most of them are committed to the guilds, despite the higher rates. I’m guessing that you were contracted by someone low on funds and desperate to make a name for themselves, a young businessman of some kind, or maybe a fledgling politician?” You stood from the bench, hands on your hips and your head cocked to one side, like you’d just puzzled out a difficult riddle instead of discerning the details of a complicated murder plot.

“So, how did I do?” You asked, and the man roared in anger, launching himself at you, tackling you to the ground and reaching for your throat. Before Hux could react, a loud bang echoed through the ship as the man flew into one of the durasteel walls, pushed from his attack by Ren, who ran to your side and helped you to your feet. The prisoner made no move from where he lay, conscious, but only just, a thin streak of blood running from the back of his head down his neck.

“I’ll assume that means that I’m correct,” you addressed the prisoner, your chest heaving from the exertion of fighting him off, “and I’d like to remind you that the next time you’re being interrogated, I won’t be in the room with you. It will be one of them-” you gestured behind you, to Hux and to Ren, “and they will not be quite so kind.”

The next morning, Ren studied you silently as you walked with him down the hallway. You were in your new officer’s uniform, wearing your greatcoat on your shoulders and sipping from a cup of coffee. You were headed to the interrogation room to meet the general, who was questioning the prisoner. Well, you, Ren, and your new shadow were headed to the interrogation room. Hux had assigned the Storm Trooper to your security detail as soon as you had disembarked from the transport the night before. He came highly recommended by you and by Phasma, one of your most promising students, and apparently he wasn’t going to leave your side, no matter how much Ren glared at him. Ren was very suspicious of the Trooper; had Hux asked him to report on your activities? Ren wouldn’t put it past the general to spy on you under the guise of protection.

You seemed fine, not at all disturbed by the events of last night, but Ren had lost sleep, terribly troubled, not by the shooter but by something that appeared to him even darker: the true nature of your relationship with Allegiant General Pryde. He had wanted to ask you more, outside the watchful eyes of General Hux, but now with the Trooper following your every move, having any time alone with you felt next to impossible. The three of you entered the observation room, hidden from view behind one-way transparisteel. It was a cramped space, and Ren shifted closer to you, glad to have an excuse if he accidentally made contact.

You watched Hux as he questioned the prisoner, and Ren watched you. You were impassive, almost bored as you observed, despite Hux’s intense technique. There was a reason the general went first in interrogations: Ren could pry information out of anybody, but it was much easier once the general left them broken. You shifted from one foot to the other, leaning against Ren gently, and he could feel the press of your arm against his through your greatcoat. He removed his helmet with one hand, feeling strangely warm in the cool air of the observation room. His mouth was dry, but he turned to you, his curiosity overcoming his hesitations.

“Could I ask you something . . . personal?” the words tumbled from his lips, and you turned to him, confusion lining your face.

“What did you want to know?” You seemed a little amused, and Ren immediately turned away. Were you laughing at him? How embarrassing. Seeing his reaction, you studied him curiously before turning to the Trooper, who sat silently against the wall.

“You’re excused, FN-2187.”

“Lieutenant General, I’m sorry, but General Hux told me-”

“I’ll speak with the general if he has any problems, but for now I’d like you to wait outside.” The Trooper shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but ultimately turned and walked out the exit.

You removed one of your leather gloves, and held your bare hand out to him, an understanding smile on your face. “Would this make it easier?”

Ren felt himself coming apart. Your perception of him was unmatched; no one had known him like this before. He removed his glove, placing his hand in yours, amazed that something so simple could feel so right.

You faced away from him again, and closed your eyes, allowing him access to your thoughts, which he took in rabidly. What did you want to know? The same question, but the nuance was entirely altered. It was the purest form of connection—no walls to hide behind, no subtle gestures to interpret, and if Ren wasn’t careful, he knew he would give away everything.

The words still wouldn’t come, so he sent images, impressions: his view from behind you, when the general had mentioned the Prydes before the party, and then at the dinner, the feeling of your hand tugged from his after the allegiant general had looked at you so harshly. You stiffened.

“What is this about, Ren?” you stared down at the floor, shrinking yourself, tendrils of hair falling from behind your ears and into your face. Ren wanted to brush them back, but his hand was still in yours, and he wasn’t sure if you’d offer it again if he let go.

“What happened to your parents?” For a moment he didn’t realize that he had said anything at all until you pulled your hand from his, flinching away from him like you had been burned. Your heart rate spiked, adrenaline rushing through your veins in response to some unseen threat.

“What?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I can feel it,” he said to you, hands up to show you that he wasn’t a threat, “I know that something happened to them, something you’re not telling me . . . you can trust me.” His attempts to quell your fears fell on deaf ears.

“The Prydes raised me as their own, gave me everything I could ever wish for. They were kind to me,” your hand ghosted to your throat, subconsciously, the hint of your necklace chain peeking out from behind the collar of your uniform. He could feel the sincerity in your words—but there was something else there too, looming large and oppressive in your mind. You were trying to protect him. He could feel it.

Ren chose to back down, afraid of driving you away from him, especially now that he had gotten so close. “I didn’t mean to pry,” he said, turning away, closing off his connection to your thoughts for a moment and allowing you to breathe. You straightened yourself out, replacing the glove on your right hand, symbolically shutting him out with one small gesture. Once you were back in control, you responded.

“It is difficult for me to talk about my family. I was too young to be without my parents when they died. The Prydes did everything they could for me, but I still feel their loss constantly. I’m sure you understand?” Ren nodded, reticent. The door behind you opened, and General Hux stepped in, replacing his own gloves on his hands and shrugging his greatcoat onto his shoulders.

“Why is your guard outside the door?” He asked, and Ren rifled through his thoughts. So the Trooper was meant to spy on you. Or, more accurately, on Ren. He hadn’t expected the general to stoop so low.

“I don’t need a guard, General. I’m fine! Who’s going to kill me aboard the ship?” You were exasperated, but amicably so, a soft warmth for the general’s concern in your chest pushing out your fear from before. Fear that Ren had caused. The thought made him a little sick.

“You can never be too careful, Lieutenant,” Hux addressed you, but his eyes were on Ren. Should Ren tell you about Hux’s scheming? He weighed the potential outcomes in his mind, trying to predict how you would react.

“You act like there’s never been a price on your head,” you mumbled, too cavalier about this whole situation. Hux chose to ignore the comment and addressed Ren instead.

“The prisoner confirmed that the Lieutenant was correct about the nature of his employment, but wouldn’t give me the name of his patron or the reason they selected her as the target.”

“Your turn,” you said to Ren as he replaced his helmet on his head. There was an awkwardness in the way that you spoke to him, and it seemed unlikely that you’d forget the conversation about your family any time soon, but Ren was more determined than ever to show you that he was worthy of your trust, that he could protect you.

The interrogation room was cold, icily so, and Ren felt the chill through the many layers that he wore. The prisoner was restrained before him, his face distorted in places from the swelling, a trickle of blood running down his nose.

“Tell me about your employer,” Ren started, tuning into the thoughts of the man before him. His mind was heavily guarded, even after the general’s interrogation, an impressive feat.

“Tell me about the girl,” he responded. Even as beaten as he was, he still managed to look above it all, running his tongue over his upper lip, smearing some of the blood across his face. Ren paused. A small light blinked red near the exit, a sign that you could hear anything happening in the other chamber of interrogation room through the comms channel. Ren shut it off with the force, nervous at the thought of you listening in.

“What do you want to know?” Ren asked, keeping track of the man’s pulse, prodding for the weak spots in his mind. He knew that if he kept the conversation casual, the prisoner might let his guard down, keep the most important information close to the surface.

“She single?” he asked, with a laugh and then continued, “I know that you like her,” and Ren’s fists clenched at his sides, “you’re a very easy man to read. Is that why you wear the mask?” He was taunting him openly, and Ren momentarily lost sight of the prisoner’s thoughts as the anger crept in.

“Who hired you?” Ren asked more forcefully, and the man flinched, his whole body seized with the effort of keeping his mind closed.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He was struggling to speak between gritted teeth, but the words kept coming, “Who would have thought that someone like you would have such a soft spot?” He laughed, and Ren strengthened his hold on the man’s mind, no longer searching for answers, hoping only to hurt him. Desperate to get him to stop.

“Seems foolish, to me at least. A girl like that is not easily satisfied, if you know what I mean.” Ren could not avoid understanding the innuendo, deep enough in the man’s mind to see exactly what he was implying. The prisoner was breathless, struggling against the restraints, but laughing still, thwarting Ren’s attempts so easily.

Ren gave in to the anger, letting go of all his pointless self-restraint, and plunged into the man’s mind without sense. The prisoner screamed in pain, but Ren ignored it. Clawing through a mind this way was dangerous, but he could not stand the alternative. If the prisoner kept talking this way, he’d kill him. The door flew open just as Ren found what he wanted; you and Hux ran in, followed closely behind by the Trooper.

“What the hell happened?” Hux yelled, looking between Ren and the prisoner. The man was unconscious now, his breathing rapid and shallow. Low, wretched moans escaped his lips, and he twitched like he was having a terrible nightmare. Ren ignored Hux, turning to FN-2187 instead.

“Contact the captain. Tell her the prisoner is ready for his execution.” The Trooper left immediately, glad to be far away from Ren’s wrath. You and Hux stared at him, wide-eyed, surprised. Waiting.

“I’ve found the name of the target. Call a meeting.”

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99, @ddaeing

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #armitage hux fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #my writing #office romance

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axe-trio-commanders · 4 years

Text

Griffons

Spoiler warning for PoF, a bit of HoT, and LWS4. This one actually doesn’t take place in my commanders’ cannon- it’s based on... one of several AU’s I’ve put them in, as will all but one of the stories I’m doing for the Tyrias library halloween prompts. This one in particular is from one dubbed the ‘TC’ au- which stands for ‘technically cannon’, as it... was that, until it uh. Wasn’t. Might have used it as an excuse for griffon plants. Anyways, enjoy some cryptids! (Oh also a small tw for severe burn wound descriptions and being held hostage at dagger-point)

The fire griffon of Elona.

It wouldn't be the first time Zafirah had encountered the thing, if she saw it here- entire form covered in fire, feral growls echoing from its throat... it’d only been in passing, and she’d been assured Balthazar had it ‘under control’, but she’d seen the charred remains of both sides of combat littering the desert. Nothing survived contact with it.

It had arrived near the same time Balthazar had, and rumors of where it’d come from abounded- some claimed it was simply a new pet of the god’s, others that it was some corrupted form of a third hound- still others that it was some poor fool who’d unknowingly desecrated his name.

Everyone had assumed it’d run rampant upon Balthazar’s death at the hands of the… ‘commander’, but sightings of it simply... vanished, after the event. It hadn’t seemed under control before, to Zafira’s knowledge, but perhaps it was simply consumed by the crystal dragon. And yet...

And yet, her god’s death seemed to bring about something... else. She’d heard it referred to as the griffon’s ghost, but she- nor anyone else she’d managed to talk to- had ever gotten a clear glimpse of the thing. She’d hoped, herself, to find it and get answers to what had happened to Balthazar, but... the best she’d got were vague descriptions- a small, planty form, (like one of those ‘sylvari’, some claimed,) large ghostly wings, a cold, gripping magic that shifted sands into demons- some had even claimed it to glow violet in the darkness...

The deadeye breathed a long sigh, gaze travelling across the horizon from across her tower. Her final stand, arena below filled with gas that’d already claimed the lives of a few... ‘pact members'. Not as many as she’d like. She supposed, as her last stand, it was... maybe a little silly to be thinking about such legends now- it wasn’t as if she’d see either of them tonight. It wasn’t as if she’d get any answers tonight.

She paused, tightening her hold on her rifle as she caught movement at the far end of the arena. A few glimpses, and she could make out the basics. Charr, medium armor, close-range weapons, hooded face. Maybe they thought it would help with the gas...? Either way, she’d steady her aim, focusing on it as it made its way closer. Just like so many others...

And then, she felt a chill at her back, turning to see-

Zafirah’s eyes widened at the sight before her. Large, ghostly wings, reminiscent of the now rarely seen sunspear griffon, spread wide as if they’d just landed. The blue glow of the somewhat translucent wings mixed with bright violet on the stone below- eyes like a feline’s staring back at her, long, feathered ears tilted forwards, bright lines marking out what might have been a human-like face, were it not so dark red in hue, and-

The creature smiled, lifting Balthazar’s sword from the ground. “Apologies, but we’re going to need this.”

...Legend or not, she needed that sword. She needed it until the... commander showed their face, and they certainly hadn’t yet. She’d heard no hints that they’d be this subtle- a charr wouldn’t be bashful after killing a god.

Zafirah narrowed her eyes, shoving her rifle into it’s hold as she brought out her paired daggers, lunging for the creature. As ghostly as their wings looked, the rest of them seemed solid- and though they were nimble, they seemed noticeably slowed by the weight of the sword they were carrying, only barely dodging her attacks, unable to offer any of her own with her hands full.

“I think I need it more,” Zafirah growled, lunging again.

“I really doubt that.” The other’s tone grew darker, leaping over her with a beat of those ghostly wings. “We need it to track an elder dragon who’s been cavorting about the mists, tearing through reality.”

“So, what Balthazar was doing before he was murdered?”

“Yes, but with less loss of innocent lives or general world-imploding.”

They’d continue their dance on the rooftop- Zafirah getting closer with each strike, the other’s eyes cold, calculating- was that a hint of nervousness she saw?

“You really think you can kill a dragon better than a god?”

“I’d say I’m obligated to try.” The other paused, standing up a little straighter near the edge of the roof. “Or- well, we are.”

...The sword was gone. Zafirah wasn’t sure when the other had... lost it, but- ...the charr. She must have thrown it to-

No, not now, she hadn’t lost yet. Wouldn’t lose yet.

Her opponent was too cocky, grin too confident- an easy target. Not thinking further, the deadeye lunged, knocking her back and against the low wall of the tower roof- then placing a knee against her chest to hold her there, placing a dagger to her throat. Zafirah saw her wings start to curl around the both of them, felt clawed hands pushing at her arm- saw the first clear hint of fear in her eyes. Still mortal, then.

“Bring me back the sword, and I let her live,” Zafirah called, letting her voice echo around the arena.

The creature’s eyes narrowed. “It’s fine, just take the sword and go! She’s bluffing,” She retorted.

Zafirah leaned more weight into her hold, seeing the other wince. “Legend or not, I really wouldn’t mind killing you.”

The other paused, then smirked. “And what’s to say I don’t just come back again?”

...She was bluffing. Zafirah had seen the fear in her eyes- she feared death just as much as anyone else.

And then... they both turned their gaze towards movement in the corner of their vision- seeing that same charr make her way up the steps towards them, ears pinned flat against her head, tail whipping back and forth in agitation- and Zafirah saw her god’s sword held in both of their clawed hands. The charr certainly believed it.

“...Let her go. Please.”

The charr’s voice was... softer, than she’d expected it to be- somewhat hoarse, but lacking the raw aggression their race had been famed for.

“If you want her, you’ll give me the sword,” she replied evenly.

“I- I know. And I will, but- I want you to think about this first. She wasn’t lying to you, we... we really do need it- innocent people are dying because we have no idea where Kralkatorrik will strike. The land is being corrupted- even breaking reality itself in places. Tyria- Elona is dying.” She took a step forward, lowering her head. “You can help us. You can help us finish what Balthazar started, in a way that will actually save everyone.”

A… tempting offer. A soft, strained voice, with honeyed words... she narrowed her eyes. “You can have the sword when the commander is dead.”

The charr paused, and she caught her and the creature exchanging glances. Did they... know the commander? If they did, she might have to keep this hostage a little-

“I think your god kinda beat you to that,” the creature chirped, earning a sharp glare from the charr. “Problem is, I’ve kinda got this habit of not staying dead.”

Zafirah looked down at her, gaze clearly disbelieving. No... no, this couldn’t be the commander. This tiny thing couldn’t have the power to kill a god- not hers, not anyone’s god, let alone elder dragons... but the ability to come back from the dead, only in the faintest of rumors-

“...No, I’m not letting you do this,” the charr muttered- and Zafirah glanced back to her, saw her fur standing on end, saw her posture straighten. “She might have been involved, but if it’s the commander you’re after, it’s more likely you’ve been looking for me.” She paused. “...I know I’m not what you expected. I’m not... really what anyone expected, let alone myself. But I... don’t want to lie to you. I’d really rather not fight you. Just let her go. Please.”

...Hm. It’d be so easy for either of them to lie, wouldn’t it? Should she believe either of them? Maybe she should just take the lives of both of them and be done with it. But if either of them were telling the truth, and she’d never know...?

“Prove it to me, then. Give me some reason to believe you’ve fought a god.”

“Well, if you’d like me to give you a tour of the mists-”

The creature’s words were cut short as the charr slipped off her hood, then pulled down the mask covering her muzzle- looking towards Zafirah with a pleading gaze. It was...

...it was almost... horrific, the scars that laced her muzzle. Burns, most of them- she could only see patches of what bright orange fur should have covered it, but the rest was either charred black or covered in dark red scars, one of her two long front teeth seeming to have recently acquired a metal brace. It was the marks of a battle-worn charr, and it was easy to imagine the sort of deistic fire that may have caused them- but the look in her eyes, the pleading in her voice, seemed so... out of place...

“...I took something important from you. I might not understand what that was, not completely- charr aren’t known for their, uh... belief. But I hope you understand me when I say that I can’t lose her again.”

...No. No, she couldn’t understand. Zafirah would have to make her understand.

She’d only start to push in the dagger when she felt, saw and heard the roar of flames, the charr an abrupt blur of motion as the deadeye felt herself thrown across the roof, skidding across stone. She heard snarls, only slightly above the fire, and looked up to see that same scarred face- now unrecognizable beneath the yellow-orange glow of flames, wings splayed threateningly from their back, tail whipping back and forth as they slowly stalked towards her on all fours to-

“...Zori?”

...The smaller one’s words were enough to give the predator pause- pause enough for the small, equally griffon-esque figure to push themself up, bounding in front of the fiery cat- putting a shaking hand through the fire to hold the side of their face. “Zori, it’s okay, it’s over. I’m okay. I’m alive, Balthazar’s gone, Joko’s gone, Mordremoth’s been dead for months- we’re gonna get the sword, we’re gonna deal with Kralkatorrik, and then we’ll get to rest, okay?”

The flames slowly, surely began to die down again, wings soon wisping away into the air, and... again, Zafirah was left with only a charr- an exhausted one, by how hard she was breathing, and how her entire form... collapsed, when the final flame died, apparently needing a moment to recover before pulling the smaller into a tight embrace.

“...I- Seremnis, are you-?” “I’m just fine, Zori. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“But I almost-”

“But you came back, and I’m still here.”

"I'm... I'm sorry..."

Zafirah stood, shakily, stepping back from the both of them. Her gaze wandered to the sword she’d been so adamantly protecting, seeing it... alight, burning with a new fire- then back towards the pair, now sitting in a companionable silence. She noticed the smaller give a fearful glance towards the sword, heard her breathing hitch for a moment before she buried her face in the charr’s fur.

Zafirah wasn’t convinced of their motives, not yet- ...but she’d just... follow them, for now. Let them have the sword. See what they said they’d do with it once they thought she was out of earshot. After all...

...There was... another legend. Maybe less of a legend, more of a warning- though it’d been plenty long enough since the other race had been spotted in Elona that it was more a parable than a true warning for most.

She turned, putting her daggers back in their hold as she walked down from the roof, shadowstepping through the fog.

You could fight the charr in war all you wanted, but only a fool would ever hurt their cubs.

#tyriaslibrary #tyriaslibrary event #cryptids #i know this is an au but both commanders are cryptids in /every/ au #they're just... more cryptid-ey in this one #anyways you ever die to a god of war and fire and make your cat-mom cry #and then get yourself mildly posessed by an angry griffon in order to come back to life #to kick a god in the teeth #for making your cat mom cry #and also hurting your large crystal child #and also hurting your cat-mom #zori sunblade #seremnis #axe trio TC AU #there we go that's it's tag now #charr #zafirah #she's here and she's great! this is just. not her greatest moment #also demmi's re-alive in this au she just doesn't feature in this part of it #some day i'll finish drawing griffon-possessed seremnis #someday...#sylvari #sunspear griffon #said griffon and aria have a... tense relationship #gw2 writing

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