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you-are-my-joy · 3 years

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The Return of an Empress | 08

Title: The Return of an Empress

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: Isekai, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on), Slow burn

Characters: Empress!Reader, Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

Word count: ~9.2k

Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Warning: May contain depictions of violence and mentions of abuse throughout the story.

Masterlist

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“Here you go, your majesty,” Joy offers you a glass of water before preparing your bed for you to sleep in.

Your eyes soften at the girl, “Thank you Joy,” you gratefully take the water and nearly drink it in one gulp. Absolutely exhausted after everything that has happened.

“Long day?” Joy teases as she takes the now empty glass from your hand.

You let out a long sigh, stretching your arms above your head, “don’t even get me started.” Joy purses her lips, giving you a sad expression as she can see how tired you were, both mentally and physically. She wishes she could help further, but the most she could do is attend to your needs, but honestly, that’s all you really need at the moment.

To say it was a long day would be an absolute understatement as you recall the events that occurred. From the morning of the beheadings, to dealing with reporters, and finally to consoling a crying Yoongi, yup, it was most definitely a very long day.

You close your eyes as you think about your time with Yoongi just a few hours ago.

Yoongi sniffs before pulling away, his red puffy eyes looking at your now damp shoulder, suddenly feeling embarrassed for breaking down right in front of you. But that doesn’t stop him from grabbing hold of your hands, “I’m so sorry for everything, for not being there for you when you need me the most,” his tearful gaze staring straight at you, glossy eyes on the verge of producing more tears.

He continues as he lets out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry for giving up on you,” his voice cracks as a fresh batch of tears begin to form in his eyes.

You give him a soft smile as you reach a hand to wipe away at his tears, “I forgive you,” you whisper softly.

Yoongi closes his eyes, savoring this moment as you caress his cheek gently. “You shouldn’t,” he whispers as he tearfully looks at you with a downcasted look.

However, you two didn’t stay in that position for long as your presence was urgently needed elsewhere when Joy called for you. You remember looking back regretfully towards Yoongi, but he only nods, understanding that you’d be busy with the whole scandal. He ushered you out of the room, gingerly placing his palm to your back. Promising to speak to you privately when the whole ordeal dies down.

And so despite having such a long day, you can’t help but feel like things worked out in the end. You no longer have to deal with Lee Joong-Gu nor do you have to worry about Yoongi. You had always planned to reconcile with Yoongi at some point in the future, but you never imagined it would transpire like that, with the usual cold advisor breaking down his walls and sobbing in your arms. But you can't help but feel like a weight is off your shoulder.

The only thing on your mind now is what’s going to happen when you’re attending the meeting tomorrow. Because for the first time since you’ve arrived in this world, all eight of you would be present in the same room. You’re not sure how that would turn out considering how tense it was when only five men were in the same room. You can only imagine what would occur with all seven, but you try to remain positive, only hoping that the meeting would run as smoothly as possible.

This was probably one of the most awkward things you’ve ever had to sit through.

Here you are, all eight of you sitting around in a circular table in complete silence as you eye the men wearily. Initially it was only just going to be you, Hoseok, and the three advisors, but the three youngest insisted that they attend this meeting as well. And yet, no one has the courage to speak up in front of each other. The only sounds coming from Taehyung’s fingers tapping against the hardwood in a steady beat. Meanwhile the rest of the men fidget in their seats impatiently, avoiding eye contact with one another.

You let out a sigh, unable to handle this any further. Here goes nothing. You clear your throat, immediately gaining everyone’s attention, “Thank you for being here everyone, we have a lot to talk about.”

Hoseok nods his head, crossing his arms, “indeed we do.”

You turn your attention to Namjoon sitting in front of you, “I’m sure you have a list of things to discuss about,” you wave your hand, “take it away,” you lean back in your chair crossing your legs, ready for whatever's about to come.

Namjoon looks down at the countless documents in front of him as he skims through its contents, “we need to first discuss what we plan to do with former Grand Duke Lee Joong-Gu.” Offering you a tentative glance before looking through the documents once more.

You hum, leaning against the arms of your chair, “Who will be inheriting the late grand duke's wealth?” you ask curiously.

“His eldest daughter, Lee Yuri, is the heir,” Namjoon answers without raising his head to look at you.

Suddenly, Jin speaks up, “We should thoroughly investigate her and the rest of the family,” he glares down at the documents as if they were cursed, “his butler turned himself in for knowing about the drugs, who’s to say more people don't know about it either. We should take them away and put them in the dungeons before that happens.” You hear many of the men murmur their agreement to his statement.

You, however, try to avoid eye contact, pretending to busy yourself with looking over the documents, trying not to act suspicious because you know she’s innocent. Despite being a god awful human being, the grand duke truly did love his family and made sure that they never knew about the drugs in hopes of protecting them. If he ever got caught, he didn’t want to bring them down with him. His only decision in life that you agreed on.

You nod, “we will go through with investigating his family.” You didn’t want to, knowing they were innocent, but how could you explain yourself without them thinking you’ve gone crazy.

You raise your head to look around the room, “however, the investigation will commence a week after today.”

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows, “I’m sorry but I have to disagree,” he butts in, “we need to take them into custody just to play safe. What if they hide every evidence of their involvement during that time frame?”

There are none. Is what you want to say. But you know without any proof to back up your claim, they would never believe you.

“They just witnessed the beheading of their father, that’s not something that’s easy to get over. We should give them time to grieve,” you suggest. You watch the rest of the men eye each other wearily, clearly opposed to your idea.

“Their father is a criminal,” Yoongi grinds out with clenched teeth.

“Does that automatically mean they’re criminals as well?” you question with a raised brow.

He crosses his arms as he leans back against his chair, lips pursed with displeasure, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Just because he was their father doesn’t mean they share the same morals,” you defend.

Jin only sighs, “I understand where you’re coming from, but chances are, they probably knew about it too. We shouldn’t risk anything and take them in,” his tone cold and disapproving.

“Let’s put it this way,” you start, “they’re automatically being labelled as criminals just because they’re his family without any solid evidence,” you furrow your eyes, waving your hand around, “does that sound fair to you?”

The men remain silent, urging you to continue, “You have to also think about what they’re going through. Because not only has their father betrayed the empire, he betrayed them, surely that’s not a good feeling to have. Their family reputation is in shambles because of him all because he chose his greed over his own family,” your voice rising with each passing second.

Hoseok cocks a brow, both surprised and confused over your sudden behavior, “why are you so persistent with this?”

“Because I don’t want to be responsible for-“ their death.

You stop yourself. You got too emotional and nearly almost blurted out something you shouldn’t.

In the sequel to the story, where the Grand Duke finally gets exposed, it’s revealed that not only does he have to pay the price for his crimes, but his family does too. The boys were far too emotional to make any rational decisions due to the scandal. In their fit of anger and need for revenge, they investigated and apprehended every family member of the criminals associated with the drugs, starting with Lee Joong-Gu’s.

They didn’t care that the family was still in the early stages of grief, because to them, they were just the family of the man that ruined their lives.

And for that reason, they didn’t care when they got ridiculed publicly or when their name was absolutely stomped on in the tabloids. Even when they were proven to be innocent, they didn’t do anything to stop the harsh treatment they received from society.

His family never had time to grieve, their emotions bottled up due to all the attention they were receiving. Where the eldest daughter was essentially known as the daughter that killed the late empress, despite her efforts in trying to rebuild their reputation that title followed her everywhere she went.

And when the entire family took their own lives, unable to handle the bankruptcy and excessive bullying, the empire rejoiced. They were innocent, yet their lives were ruined all because they trusted someone who promised to protect them. It wasn’t fair.

“Your majesty?”

You blink, “huh?”

Jimin eyes you in concern, “You didn’t want to be responsible for what?”

You clear your throat, an attempt to compose yourself as you try to to avoid their prying eyes, “I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining people’s lives if they turned out to be innocent.”

Yoongi scowls, clearly against your decision, “You’re being too lenient,” he points at the document angrily, “they could retaliate and avenge their father!”

You suck in a deep breath, calming down as you stare deep into his eyes, “Yoongi do you trust me?”

He stills for a moment, before his eyes soften at this. He hesitates before nodding his head reluctantly, “yes, I do.”

You offer him a weak smile, thankful and surprised he admitted to that so easily, “then please trust in me on this as well,” your pleading eyes boring into his.

Yoongi sighs, before slumping down in his chair in defeat, wanting to avoid conflict after somewhat reconciling with you the day before. He didn’t want to risk causing more tension when you two have a lot more to talk about. So for now, he’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it.

You look around the room, immediately taking note of their displeased expressions, “any objections?”

Suddenly the sound of a chuckle echoes around the room as Hoseok shakes his head, “seeing as how Yoongi hyung wasn’t able to get through you, neither of us have a chance,” he leans on the table with a smirk, “let’s hope her majesty’s judgment is correct.”

You turn your head back to Namjoon, “alright, what’s next on the list.” But before he could utter a word, Jimin suddenly rises to his feet.

“Wait!” he calls out, causing you and many of the other men to jump in surprise, he sends you all a sheepish smile before continuing, “there’s something important I need to say,” you watch as he chews on his bottom lip, lost in deep thought wondering how to explain himself, his expression tight and strained.

You nod your head, giving him permission to speak. He runs his fingers through his hair with shaking hands as he lets out a low chuckle, “I believe now is the time to break my fingers.” He stares at you, shoulders slumped while doing so.

You frown, “Why would I do that?”

“Because I broke our promise,” his head hangs low, unable to look you in the eye, “I wasn’t able to protect you.”

You thought for a moment, tilting your head, “I’m sorry Jimin but can you explain more?”

He nods, straightening his posture, “The night of the ball, after the criminals were apprehended,” he starts before carefully thinking of his next words, “there were spies in the area,” his voice low and tense.

Everyone freezes, as they process what he said. Spies?

“There were spies in the area?” Jin asked, rephrasing the statement into a question as though it were a surprise as he leans on the table.

Just when you thought you had nothing else to worry about, here comes Jimin dropping a huge bomb on all of you. You begin to feel immensely anxious, as this has never occurred in the novel, but seeing how much you've managed to change the story from the original plot, you’re not entirely surprised.

You clear your throat, stomach contracting into a tight ball, “can you please describe what happened?” you know this would only stress you out more, but you needed to know all the details.

Jimin bites his bottom lip, “I was watching the scene from above the dome ceiling, when I saw movement from the corner of my eyes,” he hangs his head low, feeling ashamed over his actions, “I was so immersed in the scene from below that I didn’t do my job correctly and only saw the spy at the last minute.”

He lets out a shaky breath before turning to you, his eyes brimming with tears, “They managed to escape, I’m sorry,” his voice cracking and tight. You want to go and soothe him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move at the sudden stab of anxiety in your gut.

The men stiffen at the sudden revelation, fidgeting in their seat as their eyes dart between everyone’s shocked faces around the circular table.

“It gets worse,” Jimin adds in a low voice causing everyone to snap in his direction.

Jin lets out an exasperated sigh as he rubs his temples, “How could it get any worse than this?”

Jimin gives you all a weak smile, “There was more than one,” he confesses, voice edged with tension.

Taehyung chokes on his own spit, “What do you mean there were more than one?” His voice rose an octave in disbelief.

Jimin’s lip grows thin and firm, he explains to the group how when he was chasing after the person, an onslaught of arrows flew past his head before he could even grab hold of the person’s cloak. Too many arrows at a time to be just one person.

Namjoon groans, already feeling the uncomfortable ache in his head developing beneath his temples as he buries his head in his hands, “I thought once the drugs were dealt with, we’d have nothing major to worry about,” he raises his head, his tired expression showing, “now you’re telling me we have to deal with spies too?”

Taeheyung sighs tiredly, “took the words right out of my mouth,” he turns his head to you, “seems like her majesty has a lot of enemies.”

Truthfully, you knew many people opposed the empress, most of them were nobles who lost their power and authority when she began her reign. And for that reason, you’re unable to deduce the list to one person. You groan, slumping lazily on your seat as you lean against the chair.

Hoseok’s mouth quirk upward, slightly amused at your posture, “could it be an old fling enacting their revenge? How many people have you been with again?” he teases as he leans on the table, an attempt to lighten the mood seeing how stressed you’ve become.

You glare in his direction, not at all in the mood to laugh at any jokes, “mind your own business,” you grumble.

But the man only laughs as he grins back at you, “I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but you are my business, Y/n.”

This especially doesn’t go past Yoongi as his eyes widen by his statement, “Y/n?” he questions in disbelief.

Jin looks up at Yoongi, eyeing his reaction, “her majesty gave Taehyung and Jungkook permission to address her by her name,” he explains, careful not to set the advisor off with his words, but he cocks a brow in Hoseok's direction, “although I was unaware she extended this to Hoseok.” But the said man only shrugs.

You flinch when Yoongi and Jimin whirls their head in your direction, face unreadable as their hardened eyes stare you down. You clear your throat, straightening your posture as you stare at everyone, “well, I was actually planning on extending this to all of you at some point during this meeting,” you send them an uncertain smile, “guess now is as good a time as any.”

Jin raises a brow, “Really?” his disbelief evident in his expression. Though you give him a small smile, nodding your head in confirmation.

Jimin’s breath hitches, “You’ll allow me to call you by your name, despite failing you?”

Your eyes soften in his direction, “Jimin you didn’t fail me, you saw the spies despite how dark it was outside and informed all of us. That’s more than I could ask for from you,” you reach your hand to wrap around his, squeezing it gently, “you did well, thank you,” you send him a reassuring smile.

You see his eyes becoming glossy as he looks away from your stare, sucking in a breath to compose himself before turning back to you. He squeezes your hand in return as the corners of his lips curve upward, more than grateful for your words.

Jungkook, who has been silently listening and observing this entire time, looks up hesitantly, “what do we do now?”

Everyone in the room looks around, unsure of how to answer his question before you clear your throat, “we don’t know if there are more spies in the palace, I think all we can do is keep this to ourselves for now and just observe our surroundings more closely,” you suggest, watching as the rest of the men nod in agreement.

“This is why you’re the empress,” Taehyung yawns as he stretches his arms above his head, feeling a lot more relaxed as compared to how he was just moments before.

Just then, Jimin stands up, gently pulling on your joined hands for you to rise on your feet as well. “I think that’ll be enough for today.” You watch as Jungkook and Taehyung stand up as well, preparing to leave.

Namjoon shifts in his seat as he stares at them incredulously, “We’re not done!” waving frantically at the countless documents on the table.

“I understand but there was a lot to process during this meeting,” Taehyung states, then points at you, “I personally believe her majesty should let off some steam.”

Instead of giving a snarky reply, Namjoon only groans as he waves you all off. Taehyung quirks a brow, “You surprisingly gave up a lot sooner than I expected.”

But the advisor just lets out a sigh as he gives him a bored expression, “it’s not like you’re going to listen to me no matter what I say, and frankly, I don’t have the energy left in me to make you all stay.” You can tell he was being serious as he stares at you all in a tired manner. Surprisingly, the rest of the men had similar expressions, you had thought Yoongi or Jin would put in their two cents, but contrary to what you expected, they remained silent.

Taehyung winks, “glad we’re on the same page,” he salutes goodbye to the older males, “if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be taking our leave,” he moves to grab hold of your other hand as he begins to lead you three out the door.

You tilt your head, you let them lead you out the room despite being confused over the situation, “What are we doing?”

Taehyung doesn’t turn around, but you can tell he’s smirking, “I was thinking we should do some training,” he starts, “seeing as how there’s spies we gotta worry about now.”

Your eyes widen as you stare at the back of his head, “We?”

You hear Jungkook snicker from beside you as he throws an arm around your shoulder lazily, “Yes, we are going to train.” His grin grew wider at the sight of your horrified expression.

Please have mercy on my soul.

You didn’t realize Taehyung was actually being serious about the whole training session, not until he ushered you into your bedroom calling for Joy to gather a change of lighter clothes that allows you to move more freely. And now here you are in the palace courtyard, absolutely dreading what was about to come.

“Alright, who's going up against our dear empress,” Jimin claps his hands excitedly.

In the next second, Jungkook raises his hand in the air, as Taehyung laughs and pats his shoulder, “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a volunteer.” Jungkook winks at you and you do your best to smile back at him, but if anything it came out more of a grimace.

“I’m betting on Y/n,” Jimin suddenly calls out before pointing at Taehyung, “you’re stuck with supporting Jungkook.”

Taehyung stops walking as he furrows his eyes, “No fair! I had my bets set on Y/n from the beginning!” He whines loudly.

Jungkok scoffs from beside you, carrying two wooden swords in his hands, “Should I be offended that none of you believe in me?”

But Taehyung just shrugs his shoulders, “You’re going up against the empress herself, can you really blame us?”

“Fair enough,” Jungkook grumbles, almost as if he was already admitting defeat as he hands you your sword.

You chuckle nervously, your palms beginning to sweat as you grip on the handle of the sword tightly, “I’m afraid you’re giving me far too much credit,” you joke to hide the fact that you were absolutely terrified when the sparring began. In any other situation, you would be drooling over Jungkook’s biceps, but at the moment, you can’t help but shiver in fear knowing he was strong enough to crush you in a second. At this point you’re desperately praying for muscle memory to finally come to your rescue.

Taehyung huffs, “fine, I’ll place my bets on Jungkook,” he grumbles at last, clearly upset over his current situation.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Gee thanks,” he replies sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware we were even betting money on this.”

Jimin smirks as he shrugs, “makes things more interesting, y’know.”

Taehyung whips his head, staring at him incredulously, “Yeah for you! You’re betting on Y/n. You practically win by default!” Taehyung snaps before raising his palm in Jungkook’s direction, “No offense Jungkookie.”

“None taken.”

You shake your head, no longer fazed by their childish banters at this point, “How much are you even betting on,” raising a container, similar to a water bottle, up to your lips.

“50 gold coins.”

You spit out your drink, “50 gold coins?” you cough. During your first few days, you were curious to know the value of those gold coins, so you did a little research in the library. Apparently 1 gold coin was enough to feed an entire village for a month. Now they’re betting 50? “Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive for a measly bet?” your eyes widen as you switch between Jimin and Taehyung.

Taehyung nods as he takes your side immediately, “I agree 100% with Y/n.”

Jimin only rolls his eyes, “You’re only saying that because you’re betting on Jungkook,” he points accusingly.

“And you’re only happy about that cause you’re betting on Y/n!” He snaps right back at him.

Jimin pauses, “Well… I can’t argue with that.”

“See!”

Just then, Jungkook turns to you with a mischievous smile.

Oh no.

“Why don’t we make this even more interesting,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows in your direction.

You raise a brow, “I’m listening.” You know nothing good could come out of this, especially at the way he was looking at you.

He smirks, “why don’t we have a bet of our own. Loser fulfils one wish from the winner.”

You hum, before turning your attention to Jimin. “Team meeting,” you call out, gesturing to him to come to you.

Jimin raises a brow before laughing, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you huddle in your own ‘private’ space.

“This bet seems kinda risky. You think I should accept it?”

Jimin nods his head seriously, “Of course. I wouldn’t have made a bet on you if I didn’t believe in you completely,” he scoffs before pointing behind him, “I mean look at the kid, does he really look like a hard person to beat?”

You nod, turning your head to eye him down, playing along with him, “You’re right, looking closer he’s really not all that.”

“Guys I can still hear you.”

Jimin waves him off, “Ignore him, anyway I think you should take him up on this offer.”

“Got it. Alright, good discussion.” You two break apart as you look at the now glaring knight. “We’ve come to a conclusion, Jeon Jungkook, I accept this bet.” You stick your hand out, he smirks before you’re both shaking hands in agreement.

You turn to look at Jimin as he gives you a thumbs up with a wide reassuring smile - your very own cheerleader.

You turn your attention back to Jungkook, only for your eyes to widen into saucers when his abs make a sudden appearance. You were definitely not mentally prepared for this as the author never mentioned anything about articles of clothing being removed during training. Jungkook, having noticed your ogling winks at you, “try not to drool too much.”

You only roll your eyes, turning away, embarrassed you were caught staring, “not much to drool over.” Oh who were you kidding, his body was practically sculpted by the gods. And you're sure he knows this too, based on his reaction.

Instead of getting snarky or offended at your words, he only shakes his head with a low chuckle before smirking back at you.

Alright. You admit. That was kinda hot.

You gulp nervously as he begins to stretch, his muscles flexing with every movement. At this point you just hope you make it out alive.

“Showoff,” Jimin exclaims loudly, now sitting on a nearby bench on the side.

Jungkook smirks, “no need to be jealous hyung.” Making a show to flex his muscles even more in ridiculous poses.

Jimin only rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to you, “Y/n, do me a favor and beat his ass.”

You let out a chuckle, “I’ll do my best.”

At this point, you four caught the attention of many passing knights and maids who were initially confused and curious about what was going on. But once they caught on to what was happening, many are now conveniently standing at a distance, pretending to do work when in reality they were anticipating this match just as much as Jimin and Taehyung.

Jungkook smirks up at you, “Ready to feel defeat?” A glint in his eyes screaming trouble.

You let out a huff of air as you stretch your arms and legs, “I’d like to see you try.”

“What should we do regarding the rebellion?”

After the meeting, the three advisors stayed behind after you were seemingly dragged out by the younger boys out the room. Hoseok had to leave soon after as he needed to go do his daily routine of checking up on the knights training. And so that only left the three advisors to their own thoughts.

“Well isn’t it obvious, we step down,” Namjoon states confidently. The three men grow silent as they take in the immense weight that statement holds. The realization that the rebellion that they’ve all planned meticulously for almost a year now, is about to come to an end. They knew stepping down meant finally admitting that the empress has returned and was no longer the tyrant they all detested.

Jin looks around the room wearily, “let’s not speak here, we can talk about it another time,” he whispers. Although the room was quiet and desolate, he didn’t want to take any chances of anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. Especially if it was in regards to the rebellion now that spies were suddenly a problem, “And besides, Hoseok’s not here, we need to know where he stands in all this as well.”

Namjoon nods his head understandingly, “I agree, I think all we can do now, is be careful of our surroundings and wait until we’re in a safe private area to discuss further.” All three men rise to their feet, collecting the documents before heading out the door.

“You know hyung,” Namjoon starts, eyeing Yoongi as they walk down the halls, “I’m glad to hear that you reconciled with Y/n yesterday.”

“Hoseok told us everything this morning,” Jin clarifies.

Yoongi hums, not looking at either men in the eye, “I wouldn’t necessarily say we reconciled completely as there’s still a lot to talk about.”

“Let’s hope that once all this get settled, we’ll all have time to properly speak to each other, I believe we all owe her that much,” Jin clutches the documents in his hands as his eyes narrow down at them, a painful reminder of their mistreatment towards the empress when she was being taken advantage of. Namjoon and Yoongi nod sadly, too ashamed of their past actions to look each other in the eye as a wave of guilt washes over all three of them.

But they don’t dwell on that feeling for long when suddenly a small group of maids and knights shuffles quickly right past them, many buzzing with excitement as they make their way to what seemed like the direction of the courtyard.

All three men turn to face one another, immensely confused over the situation especially when they see more palace staff rushing past them. Curiosity got the best of them before they too began to follow the crowd.

They could almost hear distant cheering as they followed the small group. The closer they got the louder the cheers became. When they rounded the corner, they were surprised to find a crowd of maids and knights huddled around the many windows that were now opened.

And they were especially surprised to find Hoseok being among the bunch. He notices the advisors immediately and waves them over, “C’mon you’re gonna miss the show!” Using his General privileges, he managed to snag his own window to himself to watch the show.

Namjoon raises a brow as he approaches the general, “Thought you had to go observe the knights?”

Hoseok chuckles, “I am,” he states as a matter of factly as he points around the area, “they’re all here.” Well they couldn’t deny that as it almost did seem as though every person present in the palace was at attendance. They wouldn’t be surprised if that actually was the case.

Yoongi winces at the loud cheers around him, “What’s going on?” They were even more confused than ever before as the palace has never been this active in all their years of staying there.

Instead of responding, Hoseok only smiles and nods his head at the window. They all turn and simultaneously widen their eyes at the sight before them.

Jin lurches forward against the open window, “Is that her majesty?!” his eyes bulging out from their sockets at the way you and Jungkook fought, flinching at an especially hard blow that Jungkook gives you, only for you to retaliate with your foot against his face, “They’re going too hard on each other!” he then snaps his head to Hoseok, “Whose idea was-”

“HIT HIM WITH THE OLD ONE TWO, Y/N!” Jimin cheers loudly, standing on the bench, throwing punches in the air.

“C’MON JUNGKOOK DON’T FUCKING EMBARRASS ME! I’M RISKING A LOT OF MONEY FOR SUPPORTING YOU!” Taehyung yells on the side, standing on the bench as well.

Jin deadpans, “Why do I get this feeling like I already know the answer to this question.”

Hoseok bellows loudly, “Because you probably do,” he pats his shoulder, “just enjoy the show hyung, Jungkook and Y/n aren’t going nearly as hard on each other as they would normally do in a real fight.”

Namjoon nods as he leans against the window frame, “He’s right, believe it or not, they’re actually holding themselves back at the moment.” Jin sighs in defeat as he relents and faces the window, desperately hoping this whole thing would end soon.

A shaky breath escapes your lips, as Jungkook breathes heavily from across you. You were surprisingly holding yourself really well against the significantly larger knight, extremely thankful to see muscle memory coming into play as it almost seemed like your body moved on its own. And as a result, it was an exhilarating match between the empress and one of the strongest knights in the empire.

Loud cheers catch your attention as there is now a large group of guards and maids crowding around the area to watch the spectacle, while some maids and knights had a nice view from above through the open windows in the palace. It wasn’t every day they got to see the empress fighting, so they were definitely not going to waste this opportunity.

Jungkook wipes sweat off his forehead, the action catching your eye immediately, “Seems like her majesty is a crowd favorite.”

You chuckle back at him, “Probably cause they know I’m gonna win,” you tease with a wink. You know you’re probably an equally sweaty mess as well but neither one of you seem to mind in the slightest.

Jungkook doesn’t back down as you see a slight smirk forming on his lips, “Don’t get too cocky now Y/n, I was going easy on you earlier,” he readies his stance, “Now, it’s the real deal.” As if proving his statement, he suddenly lunges forward with his wooden sword.

Miraculously, you managed to dodge his attack as you swiftly duck down and move to the side. This catches Jungkook off guard as he had expected you to block his attack at hand, not move away. You take advantage of this as you swing your legs against the back of his knees, causing the knight to stumble forward as he attempts to regain his posture. But you don’t allow him a second to breathe as you continue your attack by kicking his back, causing him to completely lose his balance and fall onto the ground.

You hear multiple people squeal in delight over the move, especially the two loudest in the vicinity.

“OH YEAH THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!” Jimin cheers with his fists in the air. High-fiving a random knight who was equally as thrilled as him.

Meanwhile Taehyung was pulling at his hairs in frustration, “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT JUNGKOOK? A COMPLETE DISAPPOINTMENT THAT’S WHAT!”

Jungkook rolls on his back and impressively kicks his feet in the air until he’s back standing. He whirls around to face Taehyung angrily, “You call that supporting?!”

“Kinda hard to support you when she’s clearly kicking your ass!” Taehyung snaps back at him.

Jungkook turns his head around to face you when he hears you giggle, a faint smile on your face as your eyes lock onto one another. He raises a brow, “Her majesty thinks this is funny?”

“Hilarious actually,” you smirk.

This time, it was you who made the first move, you lunged with your wooden sword, swinging it in the air aiming for his chest. Jungkook blocked this with ease, grunting as he roughly pushes you off him, only to give a swing of his own in your direction.

Sucking in a breath, you quickly take a step further behind you, arching your back slightly, just barely dodging the tip of his sword before ducking down and swinging your sword from below.

But this practically does nothing either as Jungkook dodges your attack as well.

The two of you go at it for some time, neither one of you submitting to the other. There was no denying that Jungkook was an extremely talented knight. With the way his calculating eyes analyze your every move, almost predicting what your next attack would be, made it easy for him to defend himself.

But the same could be said about you. You managed to defend yourself surprisingly well. Even having the strength to counter his attacks. A testimony to how the empress gained her position.

Jungkook had long since lost his smirk as his narrowed eyes bore into you, now giving his full concentration in the fight. And with that he steps forward, you get ready to counter his attack, but instead of going for you, he aims his attack at your sword. And before you know it, your sword is thrusted into the air as Jungkook uses all his force for you to lose your grip.

You widen your eyes as you look at the now smug knight before you. You raise a brow. So that’s how you wanna be? You smirk, two can play at that game.

In the next second, Jungkook swings his sword with precision, but you weren’t going to let him take advantage of you, so instead of dodging his attack, you eye the sword's movement and as if everything moved in slow motion, you somehow catch the wooden object right in between your hands.

Jungkook widens his eyes in disbelief. You take advantage of his momentary shock when you twist and throw his own sword to the side with ease.

“If I can’t have my sword then neither can you.”

Jungkook chuckles as he clenches his fist, “fair enough.” He rolls his head, “I always did prefer hand-to-hand combat anyway,” and with that he takes a step back, before bringing his foot in the air aiming for your side. You dodge his attack, and retaliate with your own.

The crowd watches with bated breaths as you two were a perfect match. Where Jungkook excelled in strength, you excelled in skill and swiftness. With his muscles, Jungkook could easily overpower you, but your nimble feet somehow managed to move before he could lay his hands on you, much to his annoyance.

“Stay still,” he says with gritted teeth, a drop of sweat falling down his face.

You let out a tired breath, “never,” you wheeze out, weaving your way out of his reach, successfully dodging his attack once more.

You take a step forward, and with clenched fists you throw a punch aimed towards his stomach, but Jungkook catches your wrist and pulls you forward before turning your body around, wrapping his arms around your shoulder. His biceps successfully caging you in, rendering you motionless.

“BOO HISS,” Jimin exclaims loudly, clearly not a fan of your current predicament.

Taehyung only swats him away, suddenly feeling a surge of confidence over his friend, “C’MON JUNGKOOKIE!”

You feel his bare body pressed against your back as he tightens his hold. His head lowering until you feel his ragged breathing by your ear, “Ready to admit defeat my dear empress?” he whispers lowly causing shivers down your spine. You suck in a breath. Focus Y/n, now is not the time to fangirl.

You look down before smirking, “That would imply that you’ve beaten me, so no,” as disgusting as it sounds, your bodies covered in sweat allowed you to escape his viper-like grip by seemingly sliding out of his grasp. And in one swift movement, you turn your body to face him. He attempts to bring you back by grabbing your forearm, jerking you forward, but you use that momentum to your advantage by raising your knee towards his abdomen.

Jungkook grunts upon impact as he stumbles backwards, you move to kick at his chest, but he catches your ankle mid-air and twists it, careful enough as to not sprain your ankle, but enough force to cause you to lose your balance.

Your breath hitches as you suddenly find yourself laying flat on the ground. Jungkook, having composed himself after your hard blow, lunges forward, you roll away, successfully dodging his feet. But from your position on the ground, you widen your eyes as you notice something laying right beside your head.

Though you don’t have much time to think when suddenly you feel a weight over you as Jungkook roughly turns you around and is now practically on top of you. His legs caging you in like an animal. Looking up, you find that he’s grabbed hold of his fallen sword and is now swinging it in circles calmly from above you.

He smirks triumphantly, “Not going to lie, this is a very nice view,” he snickers as you glare up at him, “any last words before I win?” However, he stops short when he notices a smile forming on your lips. “What?”

You giggle mockingly, “you talk too much,” this time it’s your turn to smirk.

He furrows his brows until he feels something sharp poking him. Looking down, he’s shocked to find that you had managed to retrieve your wooden sword. Which, by sheer luck, was laying right beside your head on the ground and is now pointed directly at his stomach. In a real life scenario Jungkook would’ve died.

And for that reason, you won.

Jimin is seen laughing his ass off as he too realized that the winner in this intense match was indeed you. While Taehyung looks absolutely miserable right beside him as he slumps down in defeat. The two friends expressing a wave of emotions, contrasting one another.

The crowd around you cheers loudly, the sound deafening as if the entire empire were present to watch the spectacle.

Jungkook lets out a low chuckle as he finally admits defeat, “I should’ve known better than to think it would be that easy to beat you,” he states before looking down at you, “but no matter what it seems I can never outsmart her majesty.”

You wink up at him, “better luck next time Jungkookie.” He only smiles softly down at you.

But it’s only now do you realize the position you both were in. His body straddling yours, with his abs on full display right in front of you. You feel blood rush up to your cheeks at his almost predatory gaze, that you can’t handle it and turn your head away from the man on top of you.

You swear you could see him smirk from the corner of your eyes before he shakes head and stands up. He offers you his hand, to which you gratefully reach for before he pulls you up to your feet.

“I can’t believe you lost,” Taehyung whines as both he and Jimin begin to approach the two of you. You giggle at how disheveled Taehyung looked, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was the one fighting instead of Jungkook. You can only imagine the thoughts going through his mind with his stress level rising with each passing second.

Though Jimin grins widely as he runs up to you with open arms. You widen your eyes, raising your arms in front of you, “W-Wait Jimin I’m sweaty,” but the boy doesn’t mind as he wraps his arms around your waist and twirls you around.

Jimin laughs, “I knew you could do it!”

You giggle, the sound causing his heart to skip a beat. He widens his grin, finally putting you back down on the ground as he stares at you feeling proud.

You beam back at him, “Thank you for believing in me,” you say sincerely.

His eyes soften as he smiles at you adoringly, “Always.”

“I would just like to clarify I believed in you as well,” Taehyung suddenly butts in, but Jimin pays him no mind as he waves him off.

Just then you suddenly hear clapping, turning around and you find Yoongi slowly approaching you four along with Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok trailing not too far behind him. Despite his calm demeanor, you can tell at closer inspection that he was fighting off a proud smile.

“Good job,” he finally speaks up when he reaches you. Your eyes widen, stunned before looking at his face, trying to confirm if what you heard was right. His cheeks glowing a tint of red when you don’t say anything.

You grin at his sudden timidness, “thank you.” He nods before turning his head, suddenly feeling too shy to look you in the eye. But you don’t comment any more, more than grateful to see him making an effort to act nice.

The three older men finally join the rest of you. Jin lets out a sigh as he eyes both of your bodies being littered with bruises, “now did you two have to go that hard for you to get harmed like this?”

Yoongi scoffs just then, rolling his eyes, “oh quit your nagging old man, they look fine to me.”

Jin lets out an offended noise as he snaps his head to look at him in disbelief, “old man?! Now you listen here-“

Hoseok shoves his way between the older males, successfully silencing the both of them as he grins at you, “that was an amazing show your majesty!” he grins, “when you’re up for it, I want a turn next,” he winks.

You let out a tired chuckle, “It would be an honor to go up against the great Jung Hoseok.” You two smile at each other, you know he was joking, but you can tell there was some truth to his statement.

“Drinks on Taehyung!” Jimin suddenly announces with a wide grin.

The said knight whirls around with comical wide eyes, “That wasn’t part of the deal!”

Jimin laughs tauntingly, “No, the bet was you give me 50 gold coins. And I’m going to use that amount to give everyone here a drink. Let’s party!” he pumps his fist in the air excitedly.

“Shouldn’t you ask Y/n for permission to hold a celebration,” you stifle a giggle at the way Taehyung’s pleading eyes meet yours. You can practically see his body language begging you to listen to his pleas.

But if you’re going to be honest, with everything that’s happened, a moment to let loose and have fun was exactly what you needed. And you’re sure this is something everyone else would appreciate as well. And not to mention, your body being all bruised up was thanks to Taehyung’s brilliant idea to spar. So with that in mind, you give Taehyung a playful wink, turning to the crowd, “Drinks on Sir Taehyung tonight!”

Suddenly a second wave of cheers surround the area that you begin to think even the neighboring kingdoms could hear you.

Taehyung’s jaw drops as the cheers around you seemingly grow louder. The rest of the boys were amused by the whole situation in front of them, reveling in seeing the usual cocky knight get beaten in seconds by one sentence coming out your mouth.

“50 gold coins is nothing,” Yoongi hums, crossing his arms.

Taehyung presses his lips together, narrowing his eyes into thin slits, “A knight's salary is drastically different to the empress’s advisors.”

But the older male shrugs his shoulders with a slight closed-lipped smile, “You’ll be fine. Thanks for the drinks,” he teases, his grin growing even wider at the young knight's apparent annoyed expression.

Namjoon eyes the bruises on your skin in concern, “I believe you should go off to the royal physician before anything else. I can’t have our empress showing up in bruises for everyone to see.”

Jungkook scoffs, “And what about me?”

“What about you?” Namjoon questions with a bored expression.

“I got all bruised up as well! Her majesty isn’t an easy opponent, you know?” as if to prove his point, he makes a show to dramatically point at every bruise, big or small, that you inflicted on him, “Am I not a priority either?”

Namjoon clicks his tongue in displeasure, “you are, but the empress’s health is more important than anything else, don’t you agree?” he asks with a raised brow, as if daring him to challenge his statement.

But Jungkook relents, not having it in him to deny his claim as he agreed to it wholeheartedly. Because to him, you were more important than anything in the world. But Jungkook, being as petty as he is, refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right. So instead he grumbles incoherently under his breath, but you swear you heard him mutter “dickhead” at some point in his rambling.

You laugh loudly, immediately catching the attention of the men around you, their mood instantly brightening as they smile widely staring at you in adoration.

This interaction surely doesn’t go unnoticed by the multiple pairs of eyes around you, as many maids swoon over the scene before them. The empress was surrounded by the seven men who were closest to her. They didn’t think it was possible to see them all together again but here you eight are, laughing and teasing as you’re all in your own little world, proving them all wrong.

“For the record, I let you win,” Jungkook grumbles, pointing a finger towards you as you walk down the halls. After the crowd had dispersed, Namjoon and especially Jin had insisted you both visit the royal physician, neither man was going to take no for an answer, that much you could tell based on their stern expressions and posture.

So here you are, standing beside Jungkook on your way to get your bruises treated. You can only imagine the look on the poor physician’s face when you two enter with sheepish grins.

You giggle, “sure, just keep telling yourself that,” you tease as you nudge his arm.

“It’s true,” he pouts childishly.

“Then how do you explain all the other times you’ve been beaten by the empress, hmm?” You can’t help but tease him, especially when he was acting all high and mighty moments before the fight.

Jungkook only rolls his eyes, “That’s cause i was being a gentleman who just wanted to make you happy.”

You scoff at his lame excuse, playfully pointing at a bruise slowly turning purple on your arm, “you call this being a gentleman?” But you regret saying that statement immediately at the crestfallen look on his face.

His eyes droop as he slowly reaches a hand and gingerly holds your arm in front of him, inspecting the bruises gently, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he utters softly, feeling immensely apologetic, “I just got way too competitive back there.”

You shake your head, smiling it off, “Jungkook I was joking please don’t worry. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to this. If anything I think I should apologize to you for giving you this monstrosity.” You reach your hand out to gently soothe a rather large bruise on his abdomen in the area you kneed him. Jungkook freezes at your touch, gulping nervously when you caress the bruise absentmindedly.

Jungkook turns away in hopes of hiding his growing blush, “It’s really fine Y/n. I’ve been inflicted with far worse bruises before, this is nothing.” He insists calmly, a stark contrast to his racing thoughts.

You let out a sigh of relief, “that’s reassuring.” You take your hand away much to Jungkook’s disappointment.

He clears his throat, “Well since you won,” he playfully gags before laughing when you nudge at his shoulder, “what do you wish for?”

You hum, only now recalling your small little bet from earlier, “Not sure,” you turn to him, “If you had won, what would have been your wish?” You were curious, he seemed to have been fighting with all his might that you were wondering what his wish was for him to exert so much effort.

Jungkook stills, as if contemplating whether he should reveal his desires to you or not. You stop walking at the same time he did, now looking at him curiously. And after a few moments of thinking he made up his mind and turned to you. You suddenly feel anxious at his intense gaze. He still hasn’t said anything so you tilt your head, “Jungkook?” He blinks, “what was your wish?”

“I would’ve asked if I could kiss you.”

...

...What?

In an instant your eyes widen into saucers, in complete disbelief that he would actually confess to that. Neither one of you having the courage to speak as you just silently stare at one another.

He held your gaze, but he was slowly losing his confidence the longer you maintained eye contact. His ears turning a bright red as he’s slowly coming to the realization that yes, he indeed just blurted out his feelings like that.

He hastily turns away, “I-I’m sorry I don’t know what came over me.” And he wasn’t lying, because he too wasn’t sure why he said what he said. In all his years of knowing the empress, never once did he harbor such romantic feelings for her as he looked up to her as one would to a sister. But for some strange reason, this past month he’s been looking at her in a different light. And he honestly has no idea why. Why was he feeling this way after knowing the empress for so long. What changed in the past month for this to happen?

“Do you want to hear my wish?” You finally speak up softly.

Jungkook, though still blushing, nods his head, unable to meet your eyes.

You give him a small smile, “My wish was to make you happy,” you turn to look away when he snaps his head in your direction, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “I know how you get when you lose, so I figured I could use my wish to make you happy. Because your happiness is also my happiness, Jungkook.”

You fidget with your hands as you continue, “So if you want me to fulfill your wish then I will.” At this point, you just wanted to dig yourself a hole and swan dive right into it. You can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth but it’s too late. You said it and now you can’t take it back.

When he remains silent, face unreadable, you begin to stammer nervously, “b-but you don’t have to of course. There’s plenty of other things you could wish for if you-”

But you don’t get to finish your sentence as in the next second, you hear fast footsteps approaching, you raise your head only to suddenly feel a strong grip on your arms pulling you forward until soft pairs of lips land on yours.

You freeze at the sudden realization.

Jungkook just kissed you.

A/N: Hey! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I feel like we had a lot of drama in the past few chapters. I wanted to have a slightly more light-hearted chapter so here it is!

Haha were you guys expecting Jungkook to be the first one to be kissed? Cause I initially had another member in mind, but ideas always change with me lol

Feel free to let me know what you guys think!

And as always, thanks so much for reading and hope you all have a wonderful day! 🥰

Tagslist: (those in bold, I’m not sure if it worked for you, I’m really sorry, I’m not sure how to fix it) (I also apologize if I forgot to add someone, just comment again and I promise to add you in the next one!!)

@reallysparklychaos, @unknownsageking, @casspirit0705, @fangirl125reader, @silscintilla, @serefara29, @chimtaesty-main, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @diamonddia-mond, @vishakhas-world, @purelyecstacy, @resticou, @woopetals, @magicsweetener, @splaterparty0-0, @daydreambrliever, @strangeobjectmaker, @luna-xial, @m0chilattae, @celaenaelentiyavox, @lindsayjoy444, @layzfeelit, @kimsaerom, @songtiddies, @untamedgrape, @sonnymii, @moonssuga, @kassandravictoria, @galaxyflab, @blank-et-noir, @nynhope , @midnight1199, @yessii-i, @protontippens, @gguktings, @borahebangtan, @katkrusade, @handsupanddropthepotato, @missseoulite, @cellula-staminale, @red-bow-tie3, @whateveritis616, @ggukkieland, @sbroces, @nnessworls, @yoonieebear, @ssols, @totallynoanalien, @kaithezaftig, @seok-jinnies, @just-me-and-myselfs, @writingdust

#poly bts #poly!bts #bts au #bts fanfic #isekai #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

Hooked

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again. This time spending more time together and getting to know each other.

warnings/ disclaimers: Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth.

Harry was out searching for a book. He had left Loralie with his mother for the day since he had some errands to run and it would be a busy day. He had finished all of his books and he was on the search for another, maybe even some extra ones for his classroom. He had stopped by his favorite coffee shop and ordered his favorite black coffee to start his day of errands, then he went to the market to get everything for dinner tonight- he thought he might as well get it out of the way since he hates grocery shopping.

Now he’s on the way to a bookstore, he didn’t want to order it on Amazon or just go to a big chain store so he did a quick google search and found a small book store a block down the road from the coffee shop he had gone to. He wanted to find the book burning in water, drowning in flame- his sister had recommended it to him and now he was itching to read it.

He made his way to the bookstore, it looked like a homey place just from the outside of the store. It was a rust colored brick with two sconces on either side of the top of the book shop, a rather tall building- possibly a flat at the top. Harry looks at the cacti peeking through the windows, little flower stickers to decorate.

Harry walks into the book shop, opening the door making the golden bell at the top of the door frame sound off. As soon as Harry steps in he notes the warm scent, it smells like the owner had been baking cookies. “Hello!” He hears a cheerful voice sing while he steps toward the poetry aisle in search of the book. “Is there anything I could help you with today?” He hears the voice again making him turn his head. To his surprise it’s Y/n, he’s been thinking about her. “Oh, hi.” He says bashfully, smiling and stepping over to the cashier counter she was behind.

Y/n smiles, continuing to add price tags on the back of her new shipment of books. She had started her little business officially a bit after she had gotten pregnant with Milo. Milo’s dad had left her after she broke the news to him, they were in their early twenty’s (Y/n being twenty one and him being twenty two) so it was understandable that he didn’t want children yet but the way he dealt with the situation was just dramatic and too much on Y/n. So she put everything into her little book shop, she took out a loan and bought this place, starting planning and putting her all into it, it wasn’t easy but it was worth it.

“Hi Harry.” She says, adding a book to the stack. Harry blushes at her tone again, she’s hard to read. “Um… do you happen to have burning in water, drowning in flame?” He asks, whirling around her display of different styles and colors of bookmarks. He is a twenty six year old man, why is acting like one of his students who thinks he’s handsome? Y/n laughs, nodding while she pulls her mug up to her lips- Harry thinks it’s hot chocolate (and he’s right). “It’s in poetry, first aisle, third shelf, second row.” She says, impressing Harry in how she has memorized every single spot of her book store.

Harry gives her a tight nod, walking over to the poetry section and looking for the book. “Is this your place?” Harry asks, making conversation while the rest of the store is dead silent.

“Yeah, me and Milo live in the flat upstairs.” Y/n admits. Harry’s ears perk up, she didn’t say anything about a partner. He walks back to the counter placing his book down, not handing it over to her yet. “When did you open this place?” He questions, looking around the shop. He sees some crystals, some candles- that both look up for sale and also her personal ones. It’s cute.

“After I got pregnant with Milo. Right after Xavier left me.” She says, leaving Harry wondering. “Xavier is…?” Y/n sighs, rolling her eyes a bit. It’s only their second time meeting and she’s already giving him her sob story. “He’s what would be Milo's father.” She says, picking at her bare nails. She doesn’t consider Xavier Milo's father, he’s never been there for him so he’s not a father. Harry’s lips form a tight line, “um, Loralies mum died… so… we’ve all got baggage.” He laughs, trying to cut the tension.

Loralies mum had died, she died during childbirth. She already had a particularly painful and rough pregnancy with Lora and that was just extremely unexpected, Harry just thanks his stars everyday that his little one is safe with him. “That’s awful, Harry. I‘m sorry.” Harry smiles at her, “it’s okay. I’ve got my Lora so I’m okay.” Y/n nods, smiling and grabbing the book from between his fingers. “She’s a sweet girl.” She compliments.

Harry nods, feeling a little cocky over how well he has raised his daughter. “Is this all for you?” She asks, pulling out a small brown bag with the logo and name on it- they are cute. “Yes please.” Harry politely says, making her laugh under her breath. “If this is your first time here? You get a free bookmark with every book you purchase if it is.” She says, nodding over to the bookmarks. Harry nods, looking through the bookmarks and picking a random Fleetwood Mac one- cute, he thinks. Y/n adds the bookmark to the bag, setting it infront of him. “13.22” she says, Harry fishing his wallet out.

“Are you doing a lot today?” He asks, motioning down to all the books stacked around her while he hands her a ten and four singles. She shrugs, “the usual.” Y/n says, handing him back his change. Harry thinks for a second, pausing his response making Y/n a little nervous. “I could help?” Harry offers, setting his coffee on the table. Y/n gives him a questionable look, sharpening one of her eyes at him. “You want to put tags on books and reorganize with me?” She asks, making Harry laugh. He nods, putting a bookmark back in its place “see, I’m already helping.” He says cheekily.

Y/n smiles, shaking her head. “I guess you can help.” She says.

Soon enough they are sat on the brown carpet, mountains of books around them. Y/n has a blanket wrapped around her and Harry has his legs stretched out. Y/n is tagging books while Harry is setting by the book shelf closest to them organizing. “I swear they put something in the water fountain at that school, the kids are always running and screaming around my classroom while I’m trying to talk about how Van Gogh cut off his own ear.” Harry says, making Y/n loudly giggle, thinking about how Milo probably gives him a horrible time on Wednesdays.

“You like working where Loralie is?” She asks, Harry of course nodding. Loralie is his baby, he loves knowing she’s just up the stairs- especially if she were to get sick or hurt he would be right there to take care of her. “Yeah, I wish I could always be with Milo but one of us has to make the money.” She jokes which makes Harry laugh.

“She always comes waddling into my classroom screaming for me- which disrupts the class but I don’t care.” He shrugs, his mind going back to Loralie. “Oh shit, I’ve got to pick her u-“

“Hi! How are you, baby!” Y/n cheers, Milo running toward her then crashing into her in a hug. Y/n’s friend Mikaela had babysat Milo for the day while Y/n tried to get as much work done as she could. Usually on the weekends (like today) Milo will be in the store with her… which tends to distract her. “Um, I’ve got to go but we should do this again? Maybe… over dinner?” Harry asks, Y/n’s face lighting up.

“Are you asking me on a date?” She teases, Harry blushing and nodding. Y/n laughs, slipping her phone from her pocket, “take my number and we can schedule that date you’re begging me for.” She teases.

Harry gets her number, thanking her for the book and letting him stay before he slips out. Now he’s got to get back to Loralie. But he’s got a date!

Later that night when Harry and Loralie are practicing her memorizing her ABCs his phone beeps. He ignores his at first, just expecting it to be a stupid text from his friend Mitch, but once he looks down he sees Y/n’s contact name. “Keep going, bug.” Harry says, grabbing his phone from the carpet while they set on the floor of the living room, unlocking his phone.

Hii, im free next Friday :) let me know if that works with your schedule!

Harry laughs at her cute little smiley faces, trying to think up a response that doesn’t make him sound a thousand years older than her. The tip of his tongue sticks out while he types back his response, his eyebrows knitted in concentration.

Hello! Friday works, how about 5:30? I can pick you up.

He lays his phone back down and helps Loralie with her letters, pulling her onto his lap. “D is for Daddy!” She cheers, making Harry smile, chuckling and kissing her round cheeks while she squeals. Harry hears his phone ding, grabbing it and reading the response, thanking god she answered. He thought his heart would explode out of his chest. It was beating so hard.

That sounds good ☺️ see you then!

Harry got her to say yes, but now he has to deal with the anxiety of actually going on the date. What should he wear, where should they go? Should he be opening the door and pulling out her chair or is that not in-in dating anymore? He hasn’t dated since Loralies mum and his baby is two years old now, it’s been quite a long time since he dipped his toe into trying to charm a woman. He just hopes he’s still got it.

****************************

The day is here. Loralie is with her grandma so Harry can get ready for the date. He’s been panicking and running all around his little house. He showered and smothered himself in lotion and his best cologne- he wanted to smell nice for her. He was adding leave in conditioner to his hair (which he hardly remembers to do) to make it more silky and the curls look a bit prettier than they usually do- he doesn’t know much about hair, he just does what his sister tells him what his hairdresser tells him he should do.

He planned out an outfit, a pair of tan dress pants with a white tank top and a cardigan over it. He had thought over the outfit a bit too much, was it too casual for the date? Was the cardigan too much? He decided against his thoughts and layers some pearls on, sliding his rings on that were in a jewelry dish, placed in there before his shower. He takes a look in the mirror, readjust his cardigan before he gives himself a little nod. He feels good about this.

He makes his way over to Y/n flat, walking up the metal steps to her flat and knocking on the door. When she opens the door he notices just how amazing her home smells, just like her book shop. He needs to remember to ask her where she gets her candles. “Hi,” Harry smiles, looking his date up and down. She was dressed nicely. It was a sage green dress with spaghetti straps, it stopped a couple inches above her knee. Harry thought it was cute.

She paired it with gold jewelry and a black cross body bag. Dirty white vans to go along with it that added a child-like feel to the outfit. Harry thought that was cute too.

“Hi,” she smiles, glancing behind her. “You look nice.” Harry says, suddenly feeling hot. Y/n laughs under her breath, thanking him. “You look nice as well.” Harry smiles bashfully, looking down at his feet. “Thank you”

Y/n says her goodbyes to Milo, hugging and kissing him before thanking her friend again for watching him. It’s the same one from last week, Mikaela. They get into Harry’s car, a bit of awkward silent before Y/n breaks it, Harry stopping the tapping of his fingers along to the low radio once her voice interrupts it. “So, where are we going?” She asks, smoothing her dress out against her thighs.

Harry laughs, he’s not prepared for dates and for some reason he hadn’t thought about the most important part. “I’ll eat anywhere to be honest.” Y/n admits, looking through her window at all the different places.

Harry was looking around in a panic and he finally pulled something out of his ass that sounded good, especially on his teacher salary. “Olive Garden?” Harry says, trying to say it confidently but it definitely comes out as more of a question. Y/n’s eyes light up, she’s in the mood for bottomless salad and breadsticks. “That sounds heavenly.” And Harry is happy to hear that.

They walk into the busy restaurant, instantly getting escorted to a table. Harry is happy they didn’t have to wait- that would have just been embarrassing since he threw this together last minute. They sat in the booth, sliding in and getting comfortable. “So, how’s the bookstore?” Harry asks, pulling apart his breadstick. Y/n knocks her shoe with his under the table, she thinks it’s cute how bashfully he can get when just asking a simple question. “It’s good. How are your little art students?” Harry playfully rolls his eyes at her choice of words.

“It’s good. They are doing self portraits.” Y/n laughs, her eyes widening.

“How’s that going?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “They look like shittier versions of Picasso’s paintings.” Y/n dramatically gasps through her laughs, “aren’t you supposed to worship the ground that man walks on? Why would you say that?” Harry rolls his eyes once again, chuckling at her. “I’m just behind honest!”

Their date goes on the same, they order their food, giggling while they eat and even getting into a little food fight with the leftover breadsticks. (They weren't being humble, they asked for another basket) They finished their food, “That was fun.” Y/n admits smiling. Harry nods, taking the check and opening his wallet. “Here,” y/n holds out her card, Harry shaking his head. “I’ll pay.” Harry shrugs her off, handing his card tucked in the black check book the waiter had brought over back to him before she can further protest.

Y/n scoffs, throwing another breadstick at him that he tried to catch but it’s too greasy. “Hey! I thought we had a truce?!” Harry questions her. She shakes her head, apparently swearing off the truce. Harry shrugs, thanking the waiter when he brings his card back along with their mints. “You better sleep with one eye open then.” Harry says, standing up and waiting for her. She laughs, standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I have a three year old, I basically sleep with them both open. You’re nothin’.” She says, Harry nodding his head in agreement. He knows just how she feels.

They drive back to her flat, Harry of course walking her to her door. “I had so much fun tonight.” Harry says, looking down before he looks up at Y/n. She smiles, blushing. She hasn’t dated since Xavier and she admired that to Harry tonight, they both admitted that they haven’t dated since their children’s parents so they felt a lot comfortable knowing they were both rusty.

“Me too, you’re a really sweet guy, Harry.” She says. She needs to remember to thank her forgetful little Milo for leaving his folder in Harry’s classroom. “Thanks for agreeing to go out with me. I was pretty nervous.” Harry admits a bit sheepishly. Harry is a bit giddy on the inside about them hitting it off so well, they were having the best conversation and at times they were getting extremely loud, probably annoying the people around them, but they didn’t care, they had fun. “Yeah, I was nervous as hell but I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Thanks for tonight.” Y/n smiles, leaning in for a kiss.

Harry’s eyes widen, but he still kisses her back. He hasn’t kissed anyone in so long he thought he had forgot how to for a second. His hands come up to cup her jaw, moving his lips with hers. “I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.” Y/n smiles, opening her door with red cheeks. Harry nods, a little flabbergasted. “Have a good night.” He says, trudging down her steps.

And now he’s hooked on her.

Tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

If you liked this please reblog and please tell me what you thought of it ☺️ thank you for reading!! I hope you all like the series so far I’m writing part three right now so it should come out soon ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

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solarwonux · 3 years

Text

10. I still remember the way you taste.

yoongi x f!reader

w.c: 3.8k (YES I GOT CARRIED AWAY SUE ME)

warnings: smut, semi unprotected sex, make up sex, some angst. Briefly edited.

note: lol i think I forgot how to write smut but anyway, hi, um, yes I got carried away lmao. But yeah let me know your thoughts. Send me a drabble prompt hehe. Thank you for reading I hope you enjoy.

drabble game

“I still remember the way you taste.” Yoongi’s knee is wedged in between your thighs as he attacks your neck in desperate open-mouthed kisses. “Yoongi, f-fuck, s-stop.” You say in between pants, placing your hands against his chest in an attempt to create some sort of space between the two of you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin and lifts his head, eyeing you down, pushing his hips further into yours, showing you how much he needed you. “I’ve been holding back from you all weekend. The guys even have a bet going on to see how long I can keep my distance from you.” His hand travels down the side of your body, bunching your silk dress up to your thighs. “Safe to say Jungkook, Hoseok, and Seokjin have lost.”

You roll your eyes. “God, don’t talk about them right now.” You run a finger down his clothed chest, stopping above the first button of his vest. “At least not when you’re about to fuck me in the bathroom of your best friend’s wedding reception” You pop the first button, earning an enticing low groan from your ex-boyfriend.

“Hey!” He exclaims flicking your forehead lightly, “he’s your best friend too.”

“Yoongi, I’m serious I hear their names come out of your lips one more time and I’ll leave you to take care of yourself.” You say as he apologizes with a nod of his head. You unbutton the next two buttons of his vest, stopping before pushing it off his body finally taking in the situation and your surroundings. The bathroom wasn’t dirty, nor was it clean. It had a musty smell making you wonder if someone had already done the deed before the two of you walked in. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.” You quirk a questioning eyebrow.

He shakes his head in disbelief, “I’m not walking through the reception and the hotel lobby with a boner.” He grinds his hips against yours, proving his point. You let out a moan throwing your head back, hitting the wall behind you lightly. He felt so good, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the hand dryer was painfully digging into your back. You would’ve agreed with his statement.

“Just stay behind me, I’ll cover you. Who’s room is closer?” You push him away, finally creating the distance you needed. You turn to face the mirror, fixing your smudged lipstick. Yoongi was shocked, staring at you. God, you were so sexy, the product of his late-night escapades by himself. Especially after the two of you had mutually called it quits.

All throughout the weekend you were driving him crazy, reeling him in to then push him away. He suspects that was your revenge for breaking up with you. One you only agreed to because you knew that once his mind was set on something, there was no way to talk him out of it.

He had almost survived. Almost. That small buzzword was thrown out the window the second you entered the green room where he and all the rest of the groomsmen were waiting in to let them know the ceremony was going to start in five minutes. The long silk lilac dress you were wearing left little to his imagination, one he didn’t have to use much because he had spent years memorizing every single part of your body.

You giggle at his dazed look, sending him a wink through the mirror before turning to face him again, planting a slow sensual kiss against his lips, pulling away before he could respond. “Hurry up or I might change my mind.” You pat his chest and walk past him. “I’ll wait outside.” You say in a sing-song voice and Yoongi was now fully convinced you were messing with him. Exuding your revenge and he had foolishly fallen into your trap.

The walk through the reception was a nightmare.

Yoongi felt like he couldn’t breathe, his hand sweating in between yours. He sent glares into your back and they only got worse every time you stopped to talk about your new start-up business, with someone he barely recognized. He was proud of you for finally leaving your job. He had witnessed many of your angry breakdowns, his heart shattering every time you cried into his chest because of how unhappy you were working for your dream company. That when he finally got word that you had left and started your own company, boldly rivaling your old one. The sigh of relief he let out was monumental. He was proud of you and would’ve told you, praised you, as you happily explained your ideas. That’s if he was thinking with his head and heart not his dick, which was straining painfully against the waistband of his slacks. If it wasn’t for his suit jacket doing most of the work in hiding it he would’ve died out of pure agony and embarrassment.

“We finally found an office and we’re moving in when Jimin gets back from his honeymoon. Sadly, he says I’m not allowed to start decorating without him, scared I’ll put an outside fountain in the middle of the whole place.” You say, prompting a booming laugh from Jimin’s dad.

Jimin’s mom shakes her head, “he gets his perfectionism from my side of the family, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, honestly, I don’t have an ounce of interior design in my body, so I’d rather he be there to supervise before he yells at me saying that I’ve ruined everything.”

Yoongi could feel the sweat start to pool above his brow, tuning you and Jimin’s parents out. He had never felt this needy in his entire life. He supposes it's the adrenaline rush of seeing you in such a revealing dress or the fact that he missed you. The last year and a half without you had been awful. Everything reminded him of you and he had to fight the urge to just call you. He never did. Afraid you had found it in yourself to finally hate him for breaking your heart.

“Yoongi, sweetheart, are you okay?” Jimin’s mom asked, placing the back of her hand against his forehead, making him flinch. “Oh dear, you’re burning up, maybe you should go lay down.” The worry in her voice was evident, melting his heart. Jimin’s parents always treated him like he was one of their own, welcoming him with open arms when Jimin had first invited him and the guys over for lunch after school almost ten years ago. When Yoongi’s parents had kicked him out for choosing to study music production instead of something ‘meaningful’ they had taken him and even offered to pay for his school expenses. He owed them a lot, and if circumstances were different he would’ve thanked them profusely, just like he always did.

“I think he has a fever so I’m going to walk him back to his room.” You nod your head, letting go of his hand and looping your arm with his. “It must’ve been the shrimp appetizer, he’s never been good with seafood, right baby?” The evil glint in your eye was too much. You’re teasing was getting too much for him to handle. He’s never seen this side of you. It excited him.

“Right!”

“Oh please, hurry, we’ll let Jimin know you had to leave early I’m sure he’ll understand.” Jimin’s mom said, pushing the two of you towards the exit.

Once the two of you were away, closer to the double doors of the reception hall you leaned in, “How are you holding up?”

“Get me out of here before I drag you to the nearest bathroom again.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” You hold your hand out before Yoongi can step any closer to your body. A sound of annoyance erupting from his chest. Once upon a time, Yoongi had prided himself in being patient. Tonight was not one of those times.

The second the two of you were alone in the elevator, his hands and mouth were all over you. Painting beautiful flowers with his mouth against your skin. The noises he had elicited from you made his chest swell with pride and his cock throb painfully against his pants. Every ounce of self control he once harbored was long gone. He didn’t want to miss another second where he wasn’t touching you.

Yoongi had almost lost his mind while you were fumbling to get the door to your hotel room open. Though, that was mainly his fault, he literally couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

Yet, now that you were finally in the safety of your hotel room, Yoongi didn’t understand why you were still resisting him and it made him even more frustrated both sexually and emotionally. “What, what do I have to wait for now, I’m so close to coming in my pants please just let me fuck you.” He all but begged, even considered getting down on his knees and kissing the ground you walked on. Though, when he saw you smirk, he knew he had done exactly what you had hoped he would do.

“Fuck you.” He closed the distance, sighing when you innocently took a step back.

“I’m trying to but I need to take my shoes off.” You pouted, pointing to your heel cladded feet in front of you, arms behind your back as you swayed from side to side. Yoongi shook his head before taking you into your arms and walking you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed. You fell back sitting down as Yoongi got down on his knees in front of you.

“Are you punishing me?” He asked with a pout on his lips.

You giggled placing both of your hands against his cheeks and squishing them. “Yes.” You affirmed kissing his lips, “I think you deserve it for leaving me.” You gave his cheeks a light tap. “Now get to work or I’ll kick you out.”

Yoongi scoffed, placing your left foot on top of his knees. His fingers unbuckling the buckle around your ankle slowly, his eyes burning holes into your soul. You swallowed nervously as he slipped it off, his lips connecting with the skin of your ankle, kissing the tiny stick n poke tattoo he had given you after a particularly stressful week of finals, almost three years ago.

It was crooked. The points of the star weren’t as perfect as he would’ve liked them to be. But it had been entirely your fault. You kept moving, yelping out in dramatized agony every time he poked the needle into your skin, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. He knew you were just doing it to scare him. Your pain tolerance was higher than any normal human being, which is why he continued his masterpiece, ignoring your pleas to stop. Nevertheless, with a childish pout you had expressed your love for it in more ways than one and vowed to never cover it up no matter what.

You had kept true to your word.

“I didn’t mean to.” He sighed, kissing your inner thigh, then moving to the other one. He had long removed your other heel and was now showering you with all the kisses he hadn’t been able to give you in the last year and a half. “I didn’t want to break up with you.”

His hands traveled up the side of your legs, pushing your dress up further until the white lace of your panties were visible to his soft eyes. He bit his lip, taking in how much of an effect he still had on you. In all honesty, it made him feel on top of the world that your body was still so responsive to his touch.

“Why did you?” Your voice wavered and you blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. Though, you had agreed with his decision to break things off. It had hurt more than you had intended it to hurt. You were left dazed and confused wondering how he could just wake up one day and decide that you weren’t enough for him anymore.

“You stopped chasing your dreams because of me.” The guilt he had felt every time he held you while you cried out in anger spilled out. The tears now fell down your eyes while he laid you down, taking your dress with him, bringing it over your head and throwing it to the side knocking over the glass of water you kept on your nightstand every night.

You jumped hitting his chest, “That dress was expensive.” You sniffed and wrapped your arms around his neck, “you’re the biggest idiot I know, I hate you.” You said, burying your head into his chest, mascara staining his pristine white dress shirt, while you unbuttoned it.

He knew you weren’t crying because of the dress, but this was also not what he meant when he wanted to have you crying tonight. You were right, he was an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” he pleaded, grabbing your head making you look at him. His own eyes were now filled with tears as he wiped away your own. “I didn’t know what else to do. You weren’t happy.” He kissed your cheek then moved down to your neck, tonguing the spot underneath your ear that he knew would have you weak in your knees. “I-I wasn’t happy.” He confessed against your skin.

He had never once said it out loud and now that he had, while you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, undressing him further, he felt childish. “You could’ve just talked to me about it.” You sighed moving your hands down his chest, your manicured nails scraping his skin lightly. He shuddered, the coldness of your touch was something he had never been able to get used to. He had missed it.

“I know.” He licked down your neck, his fingers playing with your bottom lip, taping it lightly. “I didn’t know how to approach the situation.” His eyes all but rolled back as you took his fingers into your mouth, moaning around his digits. Your mouth was so hot and wet. He wanted to be inside of it, fucking it until you were sputtering and crying tears of pleasure, his precum mixing with your saliva. But he decided he could wait to fulfill his fantasy, right now he needed to show you much he still loved and cared about you.

Yoongi took his fingers out of your mouth, trailing his moist digits down your neck, painting a masterpiece until they wrapped around your nipples, pinching it, while his mouth kissed around your other nipple. The low sighs of pleasure you were making were astronomical. A beautiful melody he will never get tired of listening to.

“S-So you decided to break up with me, f-fuck.” You gasped when he lightly bit down on your nipple. It was euphoric, enough to have you reaching your orgasm. You were overly sensitive, overwhelmed with the fact that he was so close to you again.

“I thought we already agreed that I’m an idiot.” He joked and sat back on his knees, pushing your thighs apart with his hands. The only thing keeping you covered were your panties that were sticking onto you like a second skin and it was driving him insane.

“Let me keep reminding you then.” You smirked and sat up on your elbows, lifting your hips from the bed to meet his. “Break my heart again and I’ll cut off your dick, and this time I sincerely mean it my love.” He shuddered, your menacing words filled with possibilities and hope. Hope that after tonight you and him could start over again.

“Have I ever told you how much you actually scare me?” He tilted his head with curiosity, pushing your panties to the side. His mouth watering when he felt how truly wet you were for him. He wanted you in every single way possible. To drink you up like sweet honey dew juice. If he wasn’t so impatient he would’ve buried his face in between your legs, until you were cumming on his tongue.

“Once or twice.” You lifted your hips as he slid your panties down your legs. He threw them to the side giving your hip a light kiss. “Maybe more than three times.” You gasped as he pushed two of his fingers inside of you.

His eyes catching sight the other miniscule stick n poke tattoo he had given you after graduation. This time it was a beautiful cursive ‘y’ adorning the skin of your mound, the adrenaline along with the alcohol that was running through both of your veins that night, had numbed you out enough to have you lying still, giggling at his concentration instead of screaming out in pain.

He moved his fingers, his cock aching to be freed from it’s constraints. He was so painfully hard, aching to be buried inside of you. “I think I told you more than that.” He curled his fingers, hitting the mushy spot inside of you making you gasp.

“Yoongi, whatever, just please get inside of me before I kick you out.” You arched your back, lifting your hips as his fingers slowly teased you, opening you up for him. You hadn’t been fucked in such a long time. In fact, the last person you had sex with you was the one teasing you right now.

He huffed rolling his eyes and took out his fingers. “Stop threatening me like that.” He said, bringing his fingers up to your mouth, painting your lips with your arousal. “It hurts my feelings.”

“Then hurry up.” Your fingers reached over playing with the button of his pants, popping it open as you eyed him through lust filled hooded eyes, “We can play more another day, right now I need you inside of me before I die.” You pleaded. His eyes got wide, his mind ran faster than usual, making sure he had heard you right.

Another time, you had said. He had heard you right. His hearing wasn’t as bad as he claims it to be, especially when it came to you and anything that leaves your mouth. He nodded and helped you push his pants along with his boxers down his legs. He kicked them away. A low moan escaped his lips when he felt your delicate hand wrap around his hard cock. Your thumb running over his red tip, spreading around the precum.

“Do you have a condom?” He asked in a choked whisper as he tried his hardest not to cum in your hand.

You shook your head no, a pout forming on your lips, “I don’t, I thought you would have one.” You kissed his chest lightly as you kept moving your hand around him. “I’m still on the pill though.” You pulled away and looked up at him giving him a knowing wink.

He swallowed and pushed you softly, laying you down. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would ever happen again so I didn’t bring anything.”

Your hand around him fell to your side as he climbed over you slowly. “Tell me if it hurts okay, I’ll stop.” He reassured before aligning himself up at your entrance. He ran the tip of his cock over your pussy gathering your essence before pushing himself in.

“Y-Yoongi, oh my g-god, f-fuck.” You arched your back, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders. You felt so deliciously good around him, your name falling out of his lips like a silent prayer.

He buried his face into your neck, planting open mouthed down your neck, biting down lightly when he felt you clench around him. “Can I keep going?” He mumbled. “I need to feel all of you.”

“Yes, please Yoongi please.” You gasped when you felt him bottoming out inside of you. The pleasure was mind numbing. Your pussy stretching over his cock after such a long time was otherworldly.

His hands found yours and he intertwined your fingers with his, placing your arms above your head as he started thrusting into you slowly. His eyes burning into yours, refusing to let your gaze go.

Nothing was heard, except for skin slapping against skin. His low grunts combining with your loud moans as he fucked into you faster. The sound of your wet pussy motivating him to continue his ministries. Neither of you were sure how much time had passed, the only thing that mattered was the desperate chase of your highs.

“Make me cum please.” You pleaded over and over again, as he pistoned his hips into you faster and harder. The knot forming against the pit of your stomach. You kept clenching around him and he knew you were close to the edge. He was too, he could feel the tightness of his balls as his thrusts became sloppy.

“B-Baby, I’m close.” He bit down on your neck as you arched your back, your nipples brushing against his lightly.

You dug your nails into his knuckles, raising your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. “Me too, I’m so close.” You gasped as he rolled his hips into yours. The change of rhythm had you screaming out in pleasure.

He let go of one of your hands, not wasting a second in finding your swollen clit, rubbing fast circles against it with his thumb, “Gonna cum around me my angel, gonna let me paint your walls white.” He panted, his sweaty bangs falling over his eyes. He looked like a greek God, Adonis himself.

“F-Fuck yes Yoongi, fuck I-I’m coming.” You choked out, the pressure at the pit of your stomach finally breaking. Your pussy fluttering around him, your orgasm taking over your body in pleasure filled spasms.

Yoongi pushes into you harder, his thumb working against your clit as you ride out your high beneath him. Seeing you so fucked out was enough to tether over the edge, in a silent moan, his own orgasm taking over his body, painting your walls with his sticky substance, filling you up to the brink. “G-God, I love you.” He said after he had somewhat composed himself.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into your body. You didn’t want him to move yet, “I love you too Yoongi.” You whispered leaving innocent pecks against his jawline. He chuckled laying his head against your chest. You brushed his hair away from his face. Both of your chests heaving at the same time, as you tried to catch your breaths.

“Was that okay?” He spoke after a long moment of silence. He rested his chin against your chest looking at you through worrisome eyes. “You don’t hate me anymore right?”

“I never did.” You smiled, making his heart sore, “It was perfect, I missed you...a lot” You added kissing his nose.

“I missed you too, maybe a little too much if I’m being honest. I really am sorry angel.” He cuddled into you further, feeling himself grow soft inside of you. You felt his arousal along with yours slide down your legs and you had to hold back from begging him to take you again and again.

“I know just don’t do it again.”

“I’d be actually crazy if I did.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts drabbles #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi drabbles #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios

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archetypal-archivist · 3 years

Text

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone

So this builds off of the whole "Tommy has somehow found himself on Hermitcraft after the exile arc" thing that got really popular with @redorich and @petrichormeraki on tumblr. Basically it's an excuse to give Tommy therapy and 20+ parent figures. One thing that's a common thread in those stories is that Tommy is shocked that Hermitcraft has infinite respawns and all of the hermits are quick to reassure him that he really won't perma-die in their world. And I had the thought- well, what if he wasn't in their world anymore? And thus came forth 1500+ words of angst~

It begins like this. Evil X is stuck in the void, alone and with no one to talk to. He misses daylight, he misses touch, he misses hearing voices other than his own. One day, he sees something get shot through the void as if by slingshot, leaving a trail of code in its wake, tethering the whatever it is back the way it came. This is Tommy, and while he begins to get adjusted to Hermitcraft and company, Evil X watches as the string of code begins to imprint itself into the void, and eventually learns that he can interact with it, albeit only on the most superficial of levels. On Tommy's end, he slowly begins to heal from his time spent in the war zone that is the Dream SMP, making fast friends with Grian and several of the other hermits in the process. He goes pranking with his newest, winged older brother figure, laughs at the antics of Impulse, Tango, and Zedaph, builds a cobblestone tower with BDubs, etc. But for all that he's healing, such a process isn't linear. No one on the server can truly understand just what sort of stuff he has been through, and so he often finds himself alone, trying to deal with his wildest emotions by talking to himself.

One day, however, a little voice in his head starts talking back. It's rough and gravelly and not very nice at first, but it's faint enough that he chalks it up to his imagination and moves on with his life. He follows Stress around like a duckling for a day, plays squire for Welsknight, and has a roaring panic attack after an unfortunate spar with False leads to him getting flashbacks to the Pit with Technoblade. He retreats back to his tower for a good cry, and in the midst of his tears, he hears the voice again. This time it's a bit nicer, sounding unsure and a bit panicky as it tries to encourage him to stop crying, god this is awkward, kid, it'll be fine. Wait, are you a kid? You seem tall for a munchkin.

This time, Tommy knows that it isn't his imagination, but half of his old server seemed to have voices in their heads so he really isn't all that alarmed that he seemed to have developed one of his own too. And he does something that no one else does when Evil X reaches out- he starts talking back. It's rough going, at first, especially since both of them have abrasive personalities, but eventually they settle into a rough estimation of friendship that means more to them then they are willing to say. From Evil X's perspective, this is the first time someone has actually listened to him and hasn't been turned away by his violent streak, his bad manners, and lack of proper social skills. For Tommy, this is a chance to vent to someone who seems to understand his pain. It helps that neither of them are inclined to ask too many questions. Tommy, on his part, has no clue that Evil X is an actual person and not a voice in his head, while Evil X can't bring himself to ask why Tommy has left a trail of code in the void and why it's all so glitched. He especially fears asking about the perma-death clause that seems to naturally have occurred in his code.

He will come to regret this choice.

The day is like any other, at first. He begins his day with a slice of sweet melon and then flies off to whatever hermits are awake at the time to "share a meal with them." Really, it started as an excuse to make sure that Tommy was eating at least one meal day, even in his most dissociative of states, but has since turned into an opportunity to eat weird things in front of people to see their reactions. (Etho is his favorite. He's always up early and half the time, asks to try a bite of whatever Tommy is having. They both agree that spider eyes taste a lot like sour boba.) From there it's off to the shopping district to restock his dirt shop and claim his share of the profits from the hole-digging service he runs with Grian. After that, there's just enough time to complete an order or two and collect more cobble and dirt before he has to meet up with Grian to go on their biweekly End Busting session. The two usually have a lot of fun as they go about it, Tommy jokingly shoving Grian off the platform only for his adopted brother to catch himself and fly up to join him on the narrow platform spanning the emptiness once again. Every once in a while, Grian mock-threatens to do the same in return, but he knows better than to actually attempt it after he did it once and had had to catch Tommy when he started screaming and even after they had gotten back to solid ground, he wouldn't stop for the better part of half an hour.

On habits die hard, after all. Tommy may have been told time and time again by everyone on the server that infinite respawns are a thing, yes really, but he still has a hard time believing it. He actually has a rather insane number of levels racked up- even more than Xisuma, which is impressive- because in all the months that he has been on Hermitcraft, he hasn't died once. It's a combination of survival skills taught to him by Philza and his own paranoia which has kept him alive for so long, and most of the hermits agree that it is rather impressive, if not entirely healthy for him to be so scared of dying. (Doc once offered to kill him as evidence that yes, it really is safe here and you will respawn, but for all that death by crazy redstone machine might of been cool, Tommy took a hard pass on that. Grian low key took exception to Doc offering to kill his adopted little brother, really man? Not cool.)

Anyway, Grian and Tommy meet up in the End and start off bridging with the insane amount of cobble that Tommy has stored up. Usually Tommy is in front, placing the stones, and Grian is in back, watching out for any sign of a slip up, but this time they decide to switch it up a bit, head in a new direction, play around with who's doing what this time. It ends... poorly. They bridge out into the black, on and on and on, farther into the void than they ever have before. Slowly, the islands of floating white stone stop appearing with such frequency, but they become larger in size and stranger in shape. Every once in a while Grian will see what he swears to be a glowing white mountain of Endstone in the distance, although Tommy calls bullshit each and every time. They chalk it all up to bad luck and going nuts from boredom, but really, neither one of them knows how to quit while they're ahead. As the islands disappear altogether and all that remains to orient themselves is the tenuous lifeline of cobblestone beneath their feet, the unthinkable happens.

Grian slips. And Tommy, taught compassion by the very world that will now kill him, reaches out to save him.

For one, brief moment, the two brothers clasp hands- and then Grian's weight pulls Tommy right over the edge and down, down, down into the void below.

Grian fell out of the world.

Tommy fell out of the world... and into a new one.

----

Xisuma wakes up late that day. He's been doing that a lot, if he's honest, given how late he's staying up most nights finishing up builds and the like. Those hours of sleep have to come from somewhere, after all, and he's far from an early bird. He gives into the impulse to relax a bit, drinking some tea sweetened with just enough honey to rot his teeth, and then heads off to his computer room to start up his duties as admin for the day. It's the red lights that alert him to something being wrong, and at first, he thinks it's just one of hermits' cam accounts being buggy again. Perhaps it got shut off while the hermit was bridging through the void and the hermit in question simply hadn't retrieved it yet? But who would name their cam account Tommyinnit? The looming dread sits cold in his gut as he flicks his fingers to open up his admin panel... Best to check, just in case.

The death messages are clear enough- Keralis had just perished to a ravager yesterday, likely Tango's from Decked Out if he had to guess. Zedaph had been slain by a piglin twenty minutes ago. And Grian and Tommy had fallen into the void. But if that were the case... why had only one of them respawned?

On Grian's part, he comes to with a lingering chill deep in his bones and an awful headache. The bed underneath him is warm and the sheets are a soft rosy color, likely one of the ones in Scar's magical village if the persistent smell of spruce is anything to go by. He winces against the light filtering through the window and turns to the side, squinting at where Tommy had placed his blue bed right next to his, apology on his lips for his stupid mistake. The sheets are undisturbed. Huh. That's weird, he could have sworn that he and Tommy had set their respawn points at the same time. Maybe Tommy had just forgotten and he was back in his base or at spawn? Grian rises to his feet slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the colors and sounds of the Overworld, then flaps his wings and takes off to go looking for his Tommy.

He doesn't find him.

---

The reactions to Tommy's "death" are many and varied, although for the most part, the hermits are split into two camps- those that think Tommy is gone for good, and those that think he may still be out there somewhere. For the first few days of Tommy's disappearance, most everyone is in the latter camp. Xisuma spends hours upon hours scanning the code, becoming increasingly more frazzled and terrified as his lack of sleep gets to him. Tango and Doc join him in the endeavor, although none of them have any luck or are able to spot the piece of code that caused the problem. No additions, no changes to the text, nothing. Grian leads the other team, those who set out on foot and one wing and with pick in hand to scour the world for their youngest charge, taken from them too soon. They begin in a grid pattern, setting out in ones and twos to search the whole world, but as the distance increases, the neat, orderly flyovers turn into frenzied boosting as panic starts to get the better of them. Some of them hold onto their composure better than others, but Grian ends up flying over the same patch of forest three times because he can't see for his tears. False, Impulse, Welsknight, and Beef cross the Nether, fighting their way into Bastion after Bastion and leaving Nether portals in their wake. In their tracks comes the fliers- Grian, Ren, Iskall, and BDubs. Each one takes a portal and does a sweep through the corresponding patch of Overworld before picking a direction to continue the search. Cubfan, iJevin, and Scar take to the seas, Mumbo, Stress, xB, and Zedaph to the End, Etho down into the depths of the caves below. Strangely enough, there are a few hermits who don't join the search- Keralis, who got the unlucky task of taking care of Xisuma and the others searching through the code, Tinfoilchef, who doesn't provide a reason but everyone gives him a pass because of his age, and Joe Hills and Zombie Cleo, who refuse to explain themselves.

Eventually, the searches dry up. Eventually, some of the hermits admit defeat. Hundreds of thousands of blocks out from spawn, down to the bedrock below, beneath sea and sky and every place that lacks the sun. How far is too far? For Xisuma, enough is enough. Tommy is dead. The search is over.

He stops looking. And soon, others do the same.

And the tone of the server... shifts.

For the first time that any of them can remember, a person has perma-died. Sure, they've all heard the rumors, of servers where infinite respawns is not the norm, of servers where the world glitched and a creeper is supercharged enough to damage a player down to their code. But they'd never thought that one of their own would be on the receiving end of such a curse. And to the hermits, the possibility of dying themselves suddenly becomes all too real. The constant flying is the first to go, and for those that insist on it anyway (outside of Grian, who has wings), checking the elytras' durability becomes more than just a habit. Eating spider eyes and other junk is out of the question, now it's golden apples or nothing. The Nether is all but abandoned, as is the End, and everyone on the server either groups up so that they are never alone, or retreats into their bases, becoming true hermits befitting of their server's name.

The joy that had once been so characteristic of the server is gone, and in the hearts of all, there lingers the dread that any one of them might be next- although, there are still those that hold on to hope that Tommy may not be as gone as he seems.

---

The hermits who think Tommy is dead for good and have stopped searching: Doc, Etho, Xisuma, Welsknight, Grian, BDubs, Cubfan, TinfoilChef, Stress, False, Iskall.

The hermits who think Tommy is still out there, alive if still missing, and that the search should continue: Keralis, Mumbo, Tango, Vintage Beef, Impulse, Zedaph, Joe Hills, Zombie Cleo, Scar, Rendog, xB.

Doc and Etho are old. They don't like to admit it, but they've been around since the beginning, back when players were first learning how to jump servers and communicator technology was undergoing its first upgrade. They've seen a lot and know well by now that dead is dead. Tommy is dead. All that is left to do is mourn and move on, and they have shed their tears already. Call them cold for it, but in the face of a kind of drive that can keep a man going after his entire server has burnt down around his ears (Mindcrack will be missed), they know they need to keep moving forward. There are enough broken messes on the server these days, and it is through their efforts that shops remain stocked and the torches don't burn out. They hold onto normalcy with an iron grip and hope that some day, the rest of the hermits will join them in rationality.

Stress too has a comparatively healthy approach to all of this. She doesn't want it to be true, god no, but so far everything is pointing in the direction of Tommy being dead for good. She eats a couple dozen bowls of ice cream, has a some good cries, doesn't leave her base for a week, and even afterwards she can't bring herself to wear pink for a while. But she's mourning. She's accepted things. She lets her heart break, and as time passes, she lets herself heal. And that's enough for her.

Scar is of the opinion that Tommy is still out there, and while he clings to that hope with all his might, it's fragile and Cub just knows that his best friend is going to be cut to pieces when that hope inevitably breaks. So he takes Scar aside for a quiet conversation, to break his heart before the world can break it for him. Afterwards, Scar stops talking about Tommy as if he's coming back, but his smile is never as bright as it was before. And Cub's heart breaks too.

Team ZIT swings the exact opposite way as the rest and are firmly of the belief that permadeath is impossible and thus Tommy must be alive. The three of them aren’t known for their impulse control at the best of times, and with so many hermits having given up, the trio is rightfully vicious about the fact that the others, in their eyes, have abandoned their friend. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango all kind of feed into one another and start doing lots of dangerous stunts, as if daring the universe to permakill them and prove them wrong. If one of them does something, the other two join in and escalate things, which gets impossibly dangerous very, very fast. Tango is furious, Impulse is bitter, and Zedaph is straight up heartbroken that his other friends would give up on another of their number. They do things like fly incredibly high, go cliff jumping in the Nether only to catch themselves at the last minute, and sprint across the End bridges. If they have doubts, they never voice them. Even when Tango feels like he’s burning up from the inside and wonders at his newfound hate. Even when Impulse is utterly terrified but goes along with things anyway because Tango is doing it and he can’t bear to leave a friend alone. Even when Zedaph looks at his friends and can’t help but feel scared of and for these strangers wearing the faces he knows so well. Even then.

Team ZIT often gets dragged into and starts lots of screaming fights with the other hermits who believe Tommy is dead, especially Doc, BDubs, xB, and False. False especially gets vicious, as while pvp is no longer permitted on the server, her tongue is as sharp as any blade. She believes firmly that the others are trampling on Tommy’s memory by insisting that he isn’t dead and she is determined to make them stop. And if they refuse to give up their foolishness? Well, all she might have left is her words but with them she will make them bleed.

xB and Vintage Beef are as close to neutral as you are going to get from those that get into regular arguments. xB thinks Tommy is dead until proven otherwise, while Beef thinks the exact reverse. As some of the more chill hermits, they often get dragged in to play negotiator so that the fights don’t turn physical. And some days, when someone says something particularly hurtful, they’ll close themselves up in one of xB’s bunkers and drink until they can no longer remember why they ought to be enemies. It’s hardly healthy, but they both agree that it’s better this way. Better to forget than to hurt, after all.

Grian is… somewhat the same. Sort of. He was traumatized by Tommy, the boy he adopted as his little brother, dying before his eyes, and he can’t help but blame himself. That is, when he can remember that Tommy is dead at all. After the fall, Grian’s mind was badly broken and he couldn’t accept that his little brother was dead for the longest time. He fell into two weeks of deep depression, barely eating or drinking, and eventually Iskall came and took care of him when he realized that he hadn’t seen his buddy in ages. Iskall nursed Grian back to health, only to feel his heart shatter in his breast when Grian turned to him, eyes feverishly bright and tone childlike, asking where Tommy was. The winged man’s mind couldn’t cope with the loss so it had shut down entirely, making him forget the tragedy that had occured. Iskall had deflected then, frantically trying to figure out what to say, but after a few days of Grian wandering about in a dreamlike state, his memory came back to him and he collapsed in on himself once more. The winged hermit is now locked in a loop of this, while poor Iskall is stuck trying to keep his friend alive and relatively sane.

Iskall, for his part, thinks Tommy is well and truly dead. In part because of his own certainty, in part because anything else would be even crueler for Grian. He doesn’t resent his friend for his break downs, just quietly bundles him up and clutches him close, coaxing him to eat and bathe, to put down the guilt and realize that it’ll be okay, the world won’t end with Tommy gone. He gently tries to nudge Grian down that path of acceptance of Tommy’s fate, and though he faces many setbacks, he tackles each one with a special kind of patience born of platonic love. They’re bros, despite everything. It’s only right.

Mumbo is, weirdly enough, on the side of Tommy being alive. Iskall doesn’t exactly approve and while he and Mumbo sometimes get into whispered arguments over it, they try to keep their little disagreements from Grian. Both of them only want to see their friend happy again, and will do just about anything to make it happen. For Mumbo, this means putting together crazy redstone contraptions to try and find Tommy again, as he’s certain that Grian’s little brother is still out there somewhere- and he has a piece that might prove it. Iskall comes over one day, face drawn and haggard from a night of soothing Grian through another set of screaming nightmares, only to find Mumbo waist high in redstone wiring, all hooked up to a strange portal design that looks too much like Doc’s infinity portal from season 6 for comfort. At the top of the arch is Tommy’s compass, needle whirling about like a hurricane, and while the portal isn’t lit, it does give off a faint blue-black glow. Iskall is frightened that Mumbo is tampering with something that could get him killed and Mumbo rushes to reassure him that no, the compass was specifically linked to Tommy so if Tommy was really dead, it would have been reset, right? He’s merely borrowing that tie to try and figure out where the two ends lead. Iskall is less than sure about this, especially since Mumbo is just as drawn and pale as he is, if a bit more covered in redstone, but they agree that fighting is pointless. They care about each other and about Grian too much to put any of them through that sort of pain- and besides, there’s more than enough fighting on the server already.

Ren too thinks that Tommy is alive and he is one of the ones who gets into regular fights. He’s a lover, not a fighter, but something about this whole situation just burns him up. When the pressure gets too much, he goes flying, tracing over those old familiar trails they searched so long ago, trying to see if there is anything they missed. There never is.

Welsknight has made his peace with Tomy’s death, though the server tends to forget that he and Tommy were closer than most. He alone knew that Tommy was once upon a time a boy called Theseus (a name given to him shyly when Tommy had asked him if there were any great heroes with that name that didn’t die). He alone knew Tommy’s love for horses, or that he would spend hours whispering horror stories to them when he thought no one would hear. Tommy was his squire, and although he had accepted the tragedy, he still wept for the hurt it brought him. He alone knew of the little grave he had dug under the willow tree in his castle courtyard and the headstone he had placed there, engraved with Tommy’s true name, death date, and supposed date of birth. He couldn’t have been more than 17, and perhaps that was what hurt the most. Every morning at dawn, Welsknight brings a bouquet of flowers to that little grave and says a prayer before disappearing into the morning fog. The flowers are always the same- forget me nots, for remembrance, violets, for devotion, and clover. (Think of me).

Tinfoilchef stays out of it- always has and always will. He’s too old to rush about searching or to feel as wildly as the others do. He feels, of course, but more so as the mountain does, steady and strong despite the winds that tear at its surface. Tommy is dead, but then, so are many of the people he has known in his life. It’s best to just keep plodding along.

BDubs is a mess. He had never spoken of it, but long before he had come to hermitcraft, he had had a daughter- a beautiful baby girl whose heart was too big for her chest, and she had died for that difference. He had grieved for years, but eventually the peace of the hermitcraft server had left him soothed, if a bit different than before. Tommy had been another chance at fatherhood, not that he could ever bear to call the teen that, even in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, he had taught the kid to build cobblestone towers that weren’t entirely offensive (if shaped a bit oddly) and had been the first to volunteer any time Grian was out and Tommy needed a place to spend the night when the nightmares were particularly fierce. They had so many fun sleepovers like that, and staring at those awful cobble towers in the distance, BDubs can’t help but bawl his eyes out at the memories. He waffles between taking the towers down or leaving them up- they really are ugly, and the feelings in his chest that they inspire are even more so, but somehow, he can’t bear to see them gone. Instead, he dries his eyes, flies off to grab a shulker of cobble, and sets about adding a few more to their number. A final remembrance for the boy he would have gladly claimed as his own, if only he hadn’t been too late. (He ends up building a lot more than a few).

Joe and Cleo are somehow the only ones who are actually neutral in the whole mess. Whenever they are asked their opinion on if Tommy is truly dead or not, the pair simply smile mysteriously and refuse to comment. Joe always seems to know more than he lets on and Cleo is his closest confidant, after all. Despite the anger and tears directed their way for refusing to commit to either side, the two keep their silence. (They know the truth of the matter, after all. Everything will be okay in time).

Xisuma has given up. Tommy is dead, and there is nothing he can do but spend days and days going over the code with a fine tooth comb, trying to find the glitch that cut the life of their youngest member short. Keralis takes it upon himself to take care of his long time friend, but it’s not an easy task, not when the other is so determined to make sure that such an incident never happens again. And Keralis can’t find it in himself to complain, especially since he is laboring under the impression that Xisuma agrees that Tommy is still out there and is trying to find him. It is only when Keralis mentions it in an aside, thanking the admin for his dedication, that Xisuma breaks the illusion and explains. Tommy isn’t just dead, he says tiredly, his very presence is well and truly wiped from the world’s code. All that is left of him is the faint impression his code had left behind, and trying to read it and understand what went wrong is a bit like trying to read small letters that have been drawn out in dry sand. Even for a voidwalker like himself such a task is near impossible, and Xisuma can only do so much. The needs of the many above the needs of the few- best to secure those he can now than worry over those that are gone beyond his reach. And Keralis can’t help but look at his friend with new eyes, a fleeting sense of betrayal in his heart. He had thought better of his Shishwammy, and he says as much.

He cries while Xisuma watches on in solemn, mournful silence.

---

TBC :)

#hermitcraft #minecraft #fanfiction #dream smp #hermit tommy au #angst #My writing #i'm proud of this one

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alexwritesfiction · 3 years

Text

you really know how to make me cry (when you give me those ocean eyes)

AO3

johnlock | tw suicide mention, swearing | fluff and angst | a/n: ignore typos pls

the one where lestrade breaks down and tells sherlock about how wrecked john was after sherlock's fake death, and it leads to a very wholesome confrontation.

Prompt: Lestrade has a bit of a break down and starts telling Sherlock about John after the fall; "you weren't here Sherlock! you didn't see him! you weren't the one who got drunk phonecalls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!"

---

Lestrade really did work hard. Well, lately he hadn’t had to. Sherlock had come back, after all. And for that exact reason, he’d called his dear friend for a breakfast. That was, if John could handle Sherlock being out of his sight for more than five minutes. Greg could swear he was clingier to Sherlock than to Mary.

And he couldn’t even blame him for it. The dumb fool had given all of them heart attacks when he pulled the big prank. Greg had hated himself for not being able to save Holmes.

As he waited, he looked down at his wrist to check the time on, ironically, the same watch Sherlock had once given him. Or rather, Molly had on Sherlock’s behalf.

“Hello, Graham,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke above him, and he looked up to see Sherlock already sat in front of him. He'd become good at that; sneaking around.

“Before you say anything, let me tell you, I will let you solve cases from now on, but I do need a good murder every now then. Maybe you'll need my help soon enough,” he smiled in that know-all way of him, placing his hand on top of another on the table.

Greg couldn’t help but show his wonder at how Sherlock had known exactly what was going to happen.

“How did you- never mind. I shouldn’t even ask,” he said. If his nervous tics were anything to go by, Sherlock probably had him all figured out.

“Well, now that that’s over, I need your help,” he said, quickly and Lestrade almost fell off his chair at hearing that from him.

“I- you- what?” he asked again, and he could genuinely not comprehend what Sherlock had just said.

“I'm going to, ah, prank John,” he smiled a little wider. “I need you to help me pull it off,” his eyes sparkled and as soon as the words “prank john” had left his mouth, Lestrade had hit his limit.

He was done. He was so done with his friend not understanding just how much he had really affected everyone around him. He knew Sherlock didn’t expect anyone to care if he was there or gone, but people did. Just like that, Lestrade burst.

“Prank? A prank?” he said and Sherlock was taken aback by the belittling way he'd said. Greg stood up, almost spilling his beloved coffee. For once, Sherlock did not know why he was so mad.

“How much more do you want to hurt him? Don’t you think you’ve done enough of that after the big fucking Moriarty prank?” His anger was rising and he willed for himself to calm down, but he couldn’t imagine being so dense after solving so many mysteries.

Sherlock remained seated, a frown pulled upon his cupid’s bow. Why would people be hurt? In his idea of a world without himself, all that would change was that John would marry Mary, Mr. Hudson wouldn’t be annoyed and Lestrade would have more work and Mycroft would be the same. Why would anything change?

“I don’t- Lestrade, it's just a prank. It's quite funny, I imagine,” he tried to get the situation under his control, under his sense. He wasn't used to not knowing what was going on.

Greg started to leave after a moment, grabbing his coffee and his coat and walking away. Sherlock’s voice calling him stopped him in his tracks, and just because he’d uttered his real name, called him Greg for the first time ever. That effectively shattered him and gave him courage to say what he was about to.

“You weren't here Sherlock! You didn't see him! You weren't the one who got drunk phone calls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!" he yelled, speeding back to the damned detective still watching him.

His face turned ghostly pale, and he was speechless at the confession. John- his John- had tried to- God, he had tried to not exist anymore. Sherlock’s mind was completely blank and running the fastest it ever had simultaneously.

This time, it was Sherlock’s turn to abruptly stand up and sprint away in the freezing winds, leaving a very unstable Lestrade right at the table, reeling from what had just happened.

On his way back, all Sherlock could think of was a world without John. How could that even be possible? There would be no Sherlock, no Sherlock’s world. Because, as he had come to realize it in his days of living without him, John was quite literally his world.

He could not think of the time before Watson, he could not remember his lifestyle, one without seeing john right after waking up and right before sleeping, and sometimes only staring at him sleep so peacefully. 221B Baker Street came into view rather quickly than Sherlock expected it to, and his feet led him right up to his shared room, ignoring Mrs. Hudson’s calling him.

He found John sitting on a chair, particularly, Sherlock’s chair, wrapped up in Sherlock’s favourite billowy coat. And he looked like he had no worried in his life in that position.

Sherlock almost didn’t wake him, debated ruining his sleep for a mere question. But he needed answers, or he would drive himself crazy with all the scenarios in his head.

“John! Wake up!” he urged, and something in his voice didn’t feel right to a sleeping John because he was up and alarmed in five second flat.

He flicked his head around the room, finally settling his gaze on Sherlock, with his lips pressed into a thin line. John had never seen Sherlock like this, all red nosed and red cheeked and so human. And although one could say that Sherlock Holmes was the most human version of himself around john Watson, it still felt ethereal.

The sunlight fell on John’s face such that he looked like an angel to Sherlock, his anchor to reality. But he would not let himself imagine what it would be like to lose his anchor.

“Was what Lestrade said true?” he spoke carefully, closely inspecting John’s face. He saw John’s face contort in confusion, and shake his head.

“He said, he said he saw you. In the cemetery, with your- your gun, in your mouth,” he spoke so softly that John had to strain his ears to catch onto what he was saying.

And once he did, he was taken back, and it took a full moment for him to process that Sherlock knew. He did not get scared of this, he could not because him finding out seemed like such a small pain as compared to the night he was referring to.

He’d gone insane without Sherlock’s little quips and remarks and him being around all the time and his mere presence came back to bite at him. It was a particularly awful night. He’d fought with Mary, over Sherlock nonetheless, but it had been meaningless as soon as he found himself drunk at his grave. He’d called Lestrade because he needed anything that would make him feel like Sherlock was there. Like he existed.

“I thought you died, Sherlock,” he spoke slowly, Sherlock’s coat still around him. He didn’t dare take it off.

“John,” he uttered and then he was right there striding towards his freaking other half. He didn’t know what fuelled it but right then he had a burning need to hold john, to feel him close, for him to be his anchor through whatever whirlwind of emotions he was going through.

John hugged him back just tight, as hard as he could, because god if he hadn’t dreamed of this since the very first time they giggled together at a crime scene. He didn’t know if this chance would come again and he was not going to let it go now that it was here.

“I didn’t know that you cared,” Sherlock said then, and he was terrified of the wet feeling on his cheeks that completely broke john’s heart. John hastily wiped them away because absolutely could not stand the sight of Sherlock being so vulnerable.

Mary’s words came back to him: “You care about him, John, more than me or yourself, and enough that you’re willing to ruin yourself over him.” He realized how wrong she was that night. Sherlock was not the reason John was sad sad, it was his absence. As much as he had hated admitting it to himself, Sherlock was his anchor to reality, too.

The two men stood sharing a moment there, neither of them needing to say anything. But then john recalled Sherlock’s previous words, about not knowing that john cared about him. He wanted to tell him he cared about him, that he could not go a day without seeing him.

But that was exactly was Sherlock was scared of. So, he said the only thing that fit perfectly:

“Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

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#fanfiction #my works #my writing #johnlock #ao3 #my fanfics #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #acd sherlock holmes #johnlock fluff #johnlock fanfic

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sixteenth-days · 3 years

Text

heavy lies the head

(So I saw @pine-storm-season's empires!scott post and then blacked out and wrote 1200 words, so uh,, enjoy? Warnings for body horror, blood&injury stuff. It's also on ao3!)

He has a headache.

At first, Scott puts it down to stress. It’s not like he’s been exactly having the most anxiety-free time lately- looming threat of eternal winter and all- and lack of sleep. He doesn’t get a lot of rest even at the best of times, not when new buildings and bridges and towers are always building themselves up in his mind, making his fingers itch to make them real. This is far from the first time he’s given himself an exhaustion headache, though it does feel like one of the worst yet.

So he rolls his eyes and rubs at his temples and goes to bed early, reluctantly. Drags a pillow over his head, because it’s still too bright outside, and the light hurts his eyes. Drifts off, uneasily, to sleep.

He dreams of gold and white, and gold and white and goldandwhiteandgoldandwhiteand light-

When he wakes up again, he feels like he’s dying.

Pain is hammering at his head. It feels like some maniac is driving nails through his skull, drumming in time with his frantic heartbeat as he curls up into himself, gasping into his pillow and smelling blood. His room is dark, still; he can’t see. He’s dying. He must be dying.

He brings a hand up, clumsy from sleep and disorientation and pain, and he feels something sharp and slick, wet metal beneath his fingertips. There’s blood on his hands. There’s blood on his pillow.

His first thought, dizzy and disoriented as the dark room wavers back and forth in front of his eyes, is that he’s been stabbed. Some idiot Assassin’s Guild member had come in the night and stabbed him and now there’s a knife in his skull and he’s bleeding out into his bed and he’s going to die. He hasn’t died yet.

He doesn’t know why he hasn’t died yet.

He wraps a shaking hand around the spike of metal stabbed into his head, and- it’s not a knife, it’s shaped all wrong, pokes at his hand instead of slicing his palms open, and something about the shape of it is familiar even though the haze of pain and panic- and he pulls.

The world goes white.

Pain blooms out of the aching spot in his skull, lighting the ends of all his nerves on fire and chasing all the way down his spine. He might be screaming. He hopes nobody is near enough to hear- people will talk, ha-

No, wait. Help. He needs help. He doesn’t- he hates to admit it, but he needs help. From anybody. Gem has magic, she might have something to help- Katherine, Shubble, anybody-

The stars fade out of his eyes and he can more or less see again, the dim room fading back into focus. He can see the unlit lanterns; the long, moonlit shadows. The blood is dark and obvious against soft white and teal sheets- it’ll probably look like a murder scene in here, come day. He’s still not entirely sure it isn’t.

He pushes himself up onto his elbows, slow and cautious, and then claws himself the rest of the way up to sitting, bracing himself against the bookshelves in his headboard. His balance feels off- his head feels too heavy, almost, tipping to one side and then the other.

He sits for a moment, and just tries to breathe, holding himself as still as possible to try to forestall another wave of blinding pain. It doesn’t come, and he relaxes, just a little, letting a shaky breath out.

The headache’s died down enough for him to move a little, at least for now, so the next order of business is to try to stand. He only needs to get to the rookery. It’s not far. He takes a deep breath, levers himself up and out of bed. Every step seems to take twice as much effort as usual, when his balance is all skewed and every muscle feels wrung-out and shaky.

He makes it almost to the top of the stairs.

The next snap of pain comes without prompting or warning, stabbing into either side of his skull and driving him to the floorboards immediately. He hits the floor hard, and the world narrows down to nothing but his breathing and the grain of the neat wood planks filling his field of vision. He can’t lift his head. The world is going fuzzy and indistinct around him.

His eyes slip shut, maybe.

The next thing he’s aware of is that there’s someone else in the room. He can’t see them, through the darkness and the pain, and his head is swimming incoherent, but there’s a hand on his shoulder and someone is murmuring something in an awful, too-familiar voice that he knows and that he’s never heard before.

Whoever they are, they’re almost gentle as they half-carry him back to bed, and when he sinks back down into bloodstained pillows, unconsciousness comes as a blessed relief.

When he wakes up again, it’s morning. He doesn’t know which morning. He feels like he hasn’t moved in days.

He doesn’t hurt anymore. His bed looks like a massacre scene, dried blood flaking off his hands and stained into his sheets, but the pain’s all gone, like it was never there. He feels… fine. A little warm, even. It should be a relief, but it’s almost not- after the wracking intensity of the pain, there’s something disconcerting in itself about the absence.

His head is still heavy.

He doesn’t want to reach up to feel it, so he doesn’t, but-

He needs to know, regardless.

He slips out of bed, ignores the bloody footprints on the floor, crosses the room to the wardrobe. The imbalance is still there, but he’s already getting used to it. He doesn’t know how he feels about that.

He pulls the wardrobe door open before he has a chance to think better of it, and looks in the mirror.

He’s not really surprised by what he sees, somehow. He’d had a sinking sort of suspicion- can’t even pin down when it started, whether it was when he reached up to his aching head and found blood and metal or when he first laid eyes on Xornoth, or even before that.

Xornoth had obviously been changed, warped by the power he held. Of course. It made sense. No mortal could act as a conduit for a god’s power and come away from it unscathed, no matter how strong they were.

The antlers are solid and gold, glittering in the midmorning sun, splattered with dried blood from where they clawed his way through his scalp. He moves his head a little, and feels the heavy weight of them shift, pulling at his skull.

Alinor’s antler crown had fit him perfectly, he thinks, and he can almost laugh about it.

The metal feels smooth and warm beneath his fingertips, when he reaches up to touch it, humming with life. He feels a little sick, a little overwhelmed.

If this is what it means to be a champion, he’s not sure he wants it.

But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

Are his eyes brighter than they were yesterday?

#empires smp #scott smajor #my writing #:)#empires smp fic

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tetsurouskuro · 4 years

Text

Fire in His Eyes

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing, dom!kuroo, fireman!au haikyuu, smut, unprotected sex, shower sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, fluff

word count: 5,193

a/n: this is my submission for the Haikyuu Headquarters NSFW server collab using the prompt mirror fuck!

the whole masterlist can be found HERE by the amazing @animewh0re!

a huge thank you to my wifey 💖 @guessmqnster who made this amazing banner! everyone go and give her a follow!

also a huge thank you taylor aka @deathcab4daddy for helping me with beta-reading and grammar issues! super thankful 💖

now, enjoy and as always, feedback is appreciated! <3

Synopsis: Kuroo is a fire fighter and your best friend. When your apartment building catches fire and burns up, Kuroo offers to let you stay at his place until you’ve found a new apartment.

MASTERLIST!

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

The background music in the small bar could be heard while other people were chatting away and making conversation. You were sat in between one work colleague and your best friend who you have known since you were a kid: Kuroo Tetsurou.

A laugh escaped his lips as he speaks to one of his friends from work. The way his eyes close and his mouth opens, and he throws his head back, in pure bliss. A smile forms on your lips as you take a sip of your drink. Pulling the straw into your mouth and sipping, feeling the sweet mix of liquor and soda hit your tongue and throat.

Just as you set your glass down on the table you feel Kuroo’s arms around your shoulder pulling you towards him. You let out squeak as he did that which made him chuckle. The faint smell of his body wash hits your nose, but also the sweet smell of his body sweat.

“Kuroo, let me go!”

“What why? I need my cuddle bear,” he chuckles again and hugs you tighter towards his own body. Your front is pressed to his side as he holds you in place or trying to. You’re a wiggling mess trying to break free from his hold on you.

“Kuroo- I- Let me go!” Your palms press against his rock-solid body and push away making him release you. Your hair got a little ruffled and you give the tall man at your side a pout.

“Aw c’mon princess, don’t give me that pout.” Princess. The nickname he has called you since you were kids. Ever since the both of you used to play prince and princess with Kenma being the bad guy.

“You’re an ass, Kuroo.”

“A sexy ass, right?”

You just roll your eyes at his comment and he smirks at you while taking a sip of his beer. The glass bottle reaching his lips as he takes a chug, and you watch as his thick throat moves as he swallows. You bite the inside of your cheek and take a sip of your drink as well, trying to contain your “innocent” thoughts of Kuroo Tetsurou.

You had always had an attraction for the tall, black-haired man and the fact that he decided to become a fire fighter didn’t make it any easier for you.

The amount of times you had seen him work out with the boys, especially Bokuto didn’t make it easy on you. The man himself was well built and he knew it. Everybody knew it. He often had a girl on his arm and for tonight at this little get together you could see the many women ogling at him, wanting some of him and the thought alone of Kuroo leaving the bar with another woman makes you anxious, jealous, and sad. Sad that you can’t have him that way.

“Oi, earth to (y/n).”

“Hmm? What?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, tired. I think I’m just gonna head home early.” Kuroo watches as you stand up and start gathering your stuff, which isn’t a lot. It’s a small handbag and your coat.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers himself and stands up, his tall frame standing by your side as he chugs the rest of his beer down and picks up his phone and wallet that’s left on the table. “Let’s go.”

You both say your goodbyes and exit the bar, Kuroo’s body close to yours as he guides you with one of his hands on your lower back.

Once outside, his hand doesn’t leave your back until you both stop near the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green so you can cross over. There’s silence surrounding both of you, neither of you talking. The sound of the light turning green makes you perch your head up and walk ahead, Kuroo following suit. Once over the very well trafficked road you turn right, towards your apartment.

“You’re quiet.” Turning your head, you see Kuroo watching you, his eyes scanning you as if he’s trying to read you.

“J-Just tired.”

“I don’t buy it, but if you wanna talk I’m here,” he smiles, and you return it. The walk to your apartment goes by fast, way too fast for your liking. You both stop at the entrance to your apartment building, turning around to say goodbye to Kuroo.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I don’t get to see you pretty and lame face that often anymore.”

“So mean,” you pout again and turn to open the door.

“Kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughs. “I have the next weekend off, wanna hang at my place? Kenma is coming over too.”

“Wait, Kenma is back?”

“He arrives Thursday night.”

“Oh, cool. I’ll make sure to be available.”

“Good. Goodnight (y/n).”

“Goodnight Kuroo.” He turns and walks away. You stand and watch as he walks away, missing his presence already. Wanting to spend time with him, but also not. Being in love with your best friend is awful.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

The sound of something beeping wakes you up from your slumber, the smell of smoke filling up your nostrils. You open your eyes to your dark bedroom; still half asleep you turn on the light on your bedside table. Sitting up on the bed you head to the living room and then to the small, narrow hallway. The smell of smoke is getting stronger and you stark coughing. As you reach your front door, your right hand goes to grab the door handle but soon pull back as it’s burning hot.

What’s going on? you ask yourself and touch your wooden door, feeling it burning hot too. Then it all clicks; the building is on fire.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, what do I do? What can I do? I’m on the 8th floor. Is what’s going through your head. You then remember Kuroo’s words, what he taught you in case a fire were ever to happen. You start pounding on the door, yelling for help. The smoke was getting heavier, you could feel your lungs working hard getting oxygen. You could feel your energy slowly disappearing and your thought becoming more and more foggy. You back away from the door, your back against the wall as you slowly slide down and sit on the floor. Closing your eyes, you, fearing what might happen.

Kuroo, please save me.

“(Y/N)!!!!” A voice screams, or are you imagining things?

“(Y/N)!!!!” This time you perch your head up and look towards your door, just in time for it to break down and a familiar face pops up.

“K-Kuroo?” You cough and he looks serious, and angry.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” another cough. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. Damnit, why did you stop yelling?”

“Y-You heard me?”

“Of course, I heard you princess, come here. Quickly!” You try to stand up, but your legs give out. Kuroo is quick to catch you in his arms. “God, I am so mad at you right now.”

You stay quiet as you curl your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face into his chest. He hugs your body close to his as he carries you bridal style out of your apartment. The smoke is heavy, and you start to cough some more, your eyes watering from the smoke burning in your eyes.

“Hold on, we’ll be outside soon,” Kuroo explains. Suddenly, there’s a cracking sound and a loud thud. Kuroo wobbles a little but continues to carry you until you reach outside. Fresh air fills your lungs and you pull your head away from Kuroo’s chest and are met with the sight blue and red lights. Fire trucks, ambulance, police, a lot of people in uniforms as they patrol the area.

Kuroo walks you towards an ambulance that is the closest to the two of you and sets you down on the ramp of the ambulance. His body pulls away from yours, and you already miss the warmth from him. You’re only wearing a thin tank top and some short pajama shorts and it being a cold summer night made you freeze, your arms wrapping around your body.

“S’cuse me, do you have a blanket for her?” You hear Kuroo ask one of the ambulance nurses and soon there’s a blanket wrapped around your freezing body. You hug it tightly to your body as Kuroo walks away and talks to what looks like his squad captain. You see Bokuto there as well. Kuroo then takes off his helmet and ruffles his hair. The sight of his crazy bed head always brings a smile to your face.

You can see how there’s a discussion between the three men, Kuroo nods his head a couple of times and points towards your apartment building, or what was your apartment.

Oh shit, all of my stuff. My phone, my ID, my wallet, my laptop. Everything is gone.

You slowly start to panic, but not for too long as a nurse starts to check up on you. How you’re oxygenating, pulse, blood pressure, respiratory rate, temperature, and then some questions. Everything turns out to be normal and the nurse lets you go. You stand up with the blanket still around you and start to walk closer to your burnt down apartment building, only then noticing that you’re barefoot.

“(y/n)?” You turn around and are immediately embraced by strong arms, the familiar scent filling your nostrils. You take a step back to look at your savior only to be met by strong, angry yet mesmerizing gaze.

“You are so lucky you’re alive. God woman you could’ve died. I thought you had already gotten out of the building.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Kuroo embraces you once again and holds you close, his chin on your head. You can feel and hear his heartbeat through his thick uniform, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“I’m glad that you’re safe. Have you already been checked you out by a nurse?”

“Y-Yeah. They checked me a minute ago. Everything was normal so I’m good to… Oh god, Kuroo my building is gone. Where the hell am I gonna live? I have no money to pay for a hotel or- “

“Whoa, okay take a deep breath (y/n). You can stay at my place.”

“I-I can. Really?” You feel yourself calm down, knowing Kuroo is offering his home to you for a couple of days, at least.

“Sure. You can pay the rent later,” he smirks, and you roll your eyes, but smile.

“Thank you.”

“No worries princess. I’ll drop you off at my place and then I need to head back to the station to work out some stuff, I’ll be home later.”

“Okay.”

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

“Oh, you’re still up?” Two hours had gone by as Kuroo finally returns. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks and a black tee.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep,” you answer him as you’re cuddled up on the sofa watching the news on his TV. Kuroo’s long legs carry him towards you and takes a seat beside you on the sofa. You immediately get butterflies in your stomach.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“No. I’m too tired for that.”

“Alright, well I’m gonna take one. I smell like smoke and sweat.”

“Yeah you do, I could smell your stank all the way from the elevator,” you smirk and can see Kuroo raise an eyebrow at you and then his lips form into a smirk too.

“Watch it, or I might force you into the shower with me.”

“You wouldn’t.” At those words, Kuroo suddenly has your body over his shoulder and is carrying you towards his bathroom. “Kuroo, oh my god I was kidding. Let me go.”

“You started this, now you’re gonna get it.”

“No, no, no, no. Please. Let me go.”

“I don’t think so.” Kuroo continues walking away from the living room until his feet arrive in his big bathroom, with a big shower. Glass walls covering a big space for the big shower, it could easily fit two people which made you more eager to get down and away from both him and the room.

You start to wiggle more but his grasp on you is firm; he is not letting you go.

“Kuroo. Okay, I’m sorry. I was only joking. You don’t stink, you smell nice actually. Just- NO! KUROO! AAAAAAH!” Kuroo has thrown you into the shower and started the big shower head, cold water pouring on you, hitting your head and then running all the way down to your shoulders, chest and further down.

Your hands immediately go to cover your body as you try to get away from the water. Kuroo’s tall frame is making it hard for you to escape, and he is laughing at you now.

“Kuroo.” You say his name sternly, but he doesn’t budge. He stops laughing and smirks at you. His eyes slowly trailing down your body. Kuroo watches as you tremble from the cold, he can see your nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank, your arms pushing your breast slightly upwards as you try to warm yourself up.

Kuroo gulps as he watches your body shake, his eyes fixated on your breasts. He turns around and walks to his sink. You watch as he opens the cabinet underneath the sink and start pulling out a big fluffy white towel. You just stand still and watch his back muscles work as he gathers yet another towel and places them on the sink as he stands straight again.

Kuroo turns and you lock gazes. The temperature in the shower has turned warm and you’re no longer covering your body. You’re watching him, he is watching you.

“Fuck this,” you hear him say underneath his breath and walks into the shower and pushes your body against the cold tiles making your back arch. His lips crash against yours, his tongue quickly invading your mouth. His large hands gripping your shoulders, his long fingers digging into your skin.

“Kuroo,” you moan against his lips, them never leaving yours. Your head spinning from all the endorphins that are flooding your system. Both of your eyes closed, tongues dancing with each other; feeling, loving, tasting.

Your hands grip his now wet shirt while his hands have moved to your waist, his soft hands holding you in place, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear. His lips then decide to pull back and you open your eyes to gaze into his hazel orbs; they’re darker than usual. Kuroo’s eyes have always had some light in them, but tonight, they’re different.

His forehead goes down until you can feel it make contact with your shoulder.

“Kuroo- “

“I want you. Fuck I want you so bad. I’ve wanted you for years and now that you’re wet and almost naked in front of my I can’t control myself,” he confesses and all you can do it stand still and listen, feeling like everything you’ve ever wanted is in front of you and now, finally you can grasp it.

Placing both hands on Kuroo’s wet chest, feeling his hard and solid chest underneath the wet material that’s hugging his body.

“Don’t hold back.” Just as you finish this sentence, his hands quickly tear your tank into pieces and squeezed both of your breasts in his palms. His mouth is back on yours in a second and you throw your arms around his neck. Pulling him closer to you, making him press both of his palms between your head, keeping you caged.

But he composes himself quickly and pulls back but only to throw his wet shirt off him. You scan his beautiful and well sculptured body and drink him in, just this makes your pussy throb for him.

The wet shirt lands on a pile next to your torn tank. Kuroo’s large hands palms your face, his lips crashing onto yours once again.

The now warm water is crashing against your head, drenching your hair further. Your whole body is wet, a pool of wetness has formed in your panties from the small action of kissing Kuroo.

His lips start to kiss their way down, stopping at your chest to give your breasts some attention. His tongue circling around your nipples, making you throw your head back and moan. Fisting a handful of his wet locks in your hands.

His lips continue their way down, his index and middle fingers grab the waistband of your pajama bottoms and drag them down your legs, along with your panties, throwing them to the large pile of wet clothes that has formed outside the shower.

He stands up and throws off his slacks and briefs in one go. His semi-hard cock slaps against his lower abdomen, your eyes locked on his member that has made an entrance.

“My eyes are up here princess,” the nickname he always used on you hits different now when you’re both naked in front of each other. It feels more intimate and you love it.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth, biting down on it as you look up and meet his gaze. His eyes are watching yours, his hazel eyes filled with lust, his mind has only one thing on his mind and that is having his hard cock in-between your folds.

Kuroo takes two steps forward and now he’s in front of you, you’re eyeing his chest, but he lowers his upper body, so his face is right in front of yours.

“Be a good girl and do as I say princess.”

“O-Okay.” Kuroo lowers himself so he’s on his knees, right in front of your private parts. You feel slightly ashamed and try to cover yourself but Kuroo slaps your hands away.

“Don’t. I’m about to have my meal, don’t interrupt me princess.” With your back against the wall of his big shower, he grabs your left leg, his hands on your thigh as he throws it over his right shoulder. You lose balance for a second but regain it quickly by grabbing onto his hair.

“Hold on tight,” he throws your right leg over his other shoulder and holds your weight up with his shoulders. This makes you let out a squeal, but you are quickly silenced as his lips wrap themselves around your clit. You let out a moan and look ahead of you and to your surprise you see the both of you in his bathroom mirror that almost cover his whole bathroom wall.

You see Kuroo sucking on your clit in the mirror, his tongue leaps out now and then and flicks on it. The length of his tongue even going so far back and start to flick on your opening.

“Oh, Kuroo,” you moan. You tilt your head down and see him watching you as he continues to suck on your sensitive bud. He pulls back slightly and then spits on your clit.

“You taste so good princess,” and his mouth and tongue’s back on your cunt, sucking up all your juices. “So sweet. I’m hungry for more and I’m just getting started.”

“Fu- Kuroo. I- Shit.” His tongue licks you up and down your slit. He stops when he after some time reaches your clit and with the tip of his tongue, starts flicking it fast.

Still having all of your weight on his shoulders, he pushes his index finger inside your folds, and you can’t help but clamp around him. He adds another finger and starts thrusting them with an even tempo. His lips sucks on your bud and you feel the pressure in your abdomen increase. You’re fisting two handfuls of his hair in your palms, eyes closed, head tilted back and your back arches as you feel yourself come closer and closer to a release.

“Cum for me princess. Cum all over my tongue.” You open your eyes and look into the mirror and watch yourself cum, making a lewd face. You cum all over his tongue, filling his taste buds with your juices and Kuroo drinks you all up.

The water has made his hair all damp, it falls over his face as he stands up straight. Your legs barely holding you up after the orgasm you just experienced. He pushes his hair back and smirks at you, his hazels looking at you as he sucks the rest of your juices from his fingers.

“You taste fucking delicious,” he speaks. His voice hoarse and raw. “C’mere.” You step forward until you’re in front of him. He grabs your left arm and pulls you forward until you crash against his naked chest and his lips are instantly on yours, capturing and captivating you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and lips.

He holds you in his arms as he turns you around and starts walking forward, making you walk in reverse. You crash against something cold; he turns you around and you see that he has led you to the sink. Your back is against his front, he is holding your shoulders in place. He lowers his face close to your ear, and softly speaks: “Did you like watching yourself cum in the mirror princess?”

His words make your whole-body shudder and you can’t help but moan. You love this man with your whole mind, body and soul and would do anything for him, and you’d let him do anything to you at this moment.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror and you’re gonna watch me, my cock thrust inside that tight cunt of yours.”

“Mhm, Kuroo please.”

“Please what, kitten?” This new nickname has shivers covering your body and you groan, wanting his cock inside you.

“Please, I want your cock, Tetsurou.”

“Fuck (y/n),” Kuroo groans and hitches your right leg up, flashing your private parts to the mirror. “Watch as I fuck you.”

From behind Kuroo fists his cock in his palm, centers the head of his cock between your folds and lubricates both you and him with your juices.

“Kuroo, just fuck-oh!” Without warning he pushes his length inside you. His cock is big, he’s bigger that what you thought. There’s a slight burning sensation as he stretches your walls. He has stopped his motions, waiting for you to get used to his size before he starts moving.

Kuroo’s other arm goes around your body and towards your face, turning it so you’re facing him. His eyes are lust filled and he leaves a soft kiss on your lips.

“You’re so tight princess,” he grunts.

He slowly thrusts out of you only for his hips to collide back with your ass, the friction of his hips hitting your bare skin making a loud smacking noise to echo in his big bathroom. The feeling of his large cock going in and out of you has you whimpering; you want more.

“Look into the mirror and watch as my cock pushes in and out of your beautiful cunt.” His cock is sliding in and out of your folds so easily. You turn your face forward and look at your crotch and see the way he is thrusting his erect member inside of you. Your cheeks are heating up with embarrassment, you feel exposed but still there’s something intriguing with watching someone, and that someone being Kuroo fuck you in front of a mirror this way.

His right arm hitches your leg up higher, opening you up wider. His left hand goes up towards your face and holds your jaw in place. Your eyes scan his face in the mirror, he’s watching you. The pleasure in your expression as you feel him fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before. You let your gaze settle where the two of you connect and you see his cock, covered in white cream.

“You’re so wet (y/n), fuck. It’s like your cunt is pulling me inside you, like a vortex.”

“K-Kuroo, fuck me harder.” His hips still and he watches your face in the mirror, covered with your lewd expression. To Kuroo, you look like a horny slut that needs to be roughly fucked. Kuroo has never seen you look like this before and it’s killing him from the inside. Just watching your face has his cock twitching in excitement.

“Oh?” His cocky smirk erupts, and he placed your leg down, your warm foot making contact with the cold floor. “Bend over.”

Bending over and arching your back you hear his breath hitch at your action. He’s drinking in your nakedness. His eyes are looking at your cunt, where his cock is buried deep inside you and he can see and feel how you’re clamping around his shaft.

“Fuck princess, you look so sexy like this. Bent over with my cock deep inside of you.” His hands grab your hips as thrusts hard into you. You watch him in the mirror, his mouth slightly open, eyes closed and the two veins popping out from his neck. His pecks glistening from the water and sweat that has formed and you could just cum from the sight that you’re beholding.

His nails dig into your hips as he thrusts harder into your cunt, his cock filling you all the way. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the new position that he has you in, he is devouring your cunt with his large cock and Kuroo doesn’t care either, he is completely drunk on the pleasure from fucking you. He’s ramming into you from behind, he’s no gentlemen.

“Shit princess,” he moans, throwing his head back. His hips slamming into yours, you watch him in the mirror. Your tits bouncing, your mouth open as loud moans escape. One of his arms goes to palm your breast as his other goes to grab a hold of your wet hair, pulling it back, exposing your throat to the mirror.

“Next time I fuck you, I’m gonna fuck that pretty throat of yours.”

“Mhm, please.”

“Look at you princess, begging for my cock like a whore,” he grunts as he continues to ram into you like a wild animal. Your eyes are watering from all the pleasure you’re receiving. You close your eyes for a second, drowning in the way he’s fucking you. He’s hitting your g-spot so delicately and you can feel the pressure in your abdomen returning.

“Eyes on me kitten. Oh fuck, I wanna watch you cum,” his palm collides with your ass, giving it a hard smack. You open your eyes and lock eyes with him, his hazels are watching your (y/e/c)’s. His eyes hardly concentrating on yours and he quicken his pace, his hips slapping and hitting yours hard and you see his muscles twitching and flexing.

“Cum kitten, Cum for me, fuck cum!”

“T-Tetsurou,” you moan out loudly. Your arms going forward to grip the sink, to help you with your balance as your legs starts to shake and you can feel your muscles giving up, but Kuroo is fast to hold your hips in place with his arms as he leans closer to you, his front against your back as his hips still thrusts into you.

“I-I’m gonna cum (y/n).”

“Cum inside me Kuroo.”

“F-Fuck princess I- I’m cumming. FUCK!” Kuroo’s hips still and he grunts and moans in your ear as he cums and you join him. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you yell out his name. His cock is twitching inside of your cunt, he’s milking you with his seed. Your legs are shaking, and you feel like you’re gonna fall.

“I gotchu princess,” his voice comes out softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m not letting you go,” he places a soft kiss on your cheek and then trails down to your neck.

“Now or in general?”

“Now and in general stupid,” he bites down on your shoulder and it makes you squeal and giggle. Kuroo laughs at your reaction and pulls away. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Kuroo pulls out of you and grabs the nearest towel he can find and starts to clean you up, a smirk on his face. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know what he is thinking.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you watch him throw the towel into the washing bin. He grabs your hand and leads you out of the bathroom, turning off the lights. You reach his bedroom and he turn on the lights, a king size bed in the middle of his room.

Kuroo lets go of your hand and walks to his closet. He grabs a black tee and two pair of briefs. He turns around and walks to where you’re still standing and gives you the tee and a pair of briefs.

“I know you don’t like sleeping naked so here, put them on,” he smiles softly and takes the other pair of briefs and pulls them up his legs.

“Thanks,” pulling on the tee and briefs you let out a breath you’ve been holding, it turns into a yawn and you feel exhausted.

“Let’s sleep princess.”

“Okay.” Kuroo pulls away the duvet and takes the right side of his bed, climbing in. You do the same on the other side. You settle in bed and see him reach for a button on his side of the bed, turning the lights off making the room pitch black.

Minutes pass and there’s an awkward tension in the room. Neither Kuroo nor you have spoken about what happened in the bathroom, but you remember his words that keep echoing in your head: I want you. Fuck I want you so bad. I’ve wanted you for years and now that you’re wet and almost naked in front of my I can’t control myself.

Kuroo has wanted you for years, he confessed to you and he still doesn’t know you feel the same.

“I have loved you since we were 15,” you finally confess, your eyes watching the ceiling. “I still do.”

Kuroo’s head quickly turns to watch you, the light from outside illuminating your soft skin, especially your beautiful face that he can’t keep his eyes off. He is watching you with adoring eyes, his chest feeling heavy and his belly fluttering from your confession.

“I have never loved someone as much as I love you Kuroo. My heart is yours if you’ll have me.” This time you turn your head to watch him. His expression hard to read.

He turns his body towards you and with one arm pulls you towards him, your faces only inches apart.

“I love you too (y/n),” he kisses you softly and you welcome it. “I’ll have you in any way I can have you. You’re mine now princess.”

“I am yours Tetsurou. Please take care of me.”

“I already did, or do you want more?”

“You know what I mean dumbass,” you giggle and feel happy and content. The fire in his eyes burning with passion and love for you.

You’ve found your prince and him his princess, for real this time.

#haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu!! smut #hqhq server collab #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #sanda writes #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro #my writing

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tangledstarlight · 3 years

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ok so ive been thinking a lot about reincarnation and how easily julie and luke connected with each other. like. he’d known her for less then a day and was giving her a song, which yknow. big deal for a boy who’s heart is music. and i’m fully on board the soulmate train but!!! the idea of them meeting once, centuries ago and falling in love and making music together and living a long happy life together and promising to find each other again and again??? and they do!! but they also keep missing each other!! and it never quite works out the way it should!!

in their first lives they’re just julie and luke and they meet and fall in love. and maybe they don’t do anything extraordinary because it’s like. the 1700s and just surviving a harsh winter is enough, but julie sings while she works and luke pulls out the 1700′s equivalent to a six string at night and they’re happy and that’s all that matters. there’s a bold declaration when they’re younger thats like ‘if there’s a life after death i’ll find you there, i’ll find you in any life’ and we all know julie is magic so it accidently sticks.

so then it’s the 1800′s and julie’s this semi-famous opera singer and luke hears while she’s rehearsing one day and he’s suddenly hit by the knowledge that he knows that voice. and he tries so hard to find out who she is and it’s not until one of his friends drags him to the opera that he hears her sing again and sees her and suddenly he remembers. then he waits around, trying to find her/meet her and catches her just as she’s leaving and all he says is her name and julie turns to see him and she knows too. but then she’s being whisked away and their chance has gone.

then sometimes they meet at the wrong time. it’s 1941 and the night before he’s due to ship out to to france so he’s having a last night of fun with his friends, singing and drinking and he stumbles into julie. and it’s not love at first sight and no memories resurface at first. but he convinces her to let him buy her a drink and they spend the night talking and in the early hours of the morning, when neither of them have slept and he’s due on a bus in 2 hours, luke grabs her hands and says something like ‘if i make i make it back, will you go out with me?’ and julie says something like ‘when you make it back, i’ll consider it.’ and he kisses her cheek and she waves him off. and by the time the war ends julie’s already known for 3 years that he’s been dead because she remembered, but she remembered too late to tell him.

and there’s times when they meet too late or too early. when their reborn doesn’t always quite line up with each other. so sometimes juile will meet luke when she’s already married with kids and he’s only just born. or luke will see her in some black and white film and vaguely know she’s important, but she’s super famous and they’ll never meet. and sometimes they do meet at the right time, at the right place, and they’re almost happy before something tragic happens. and there’s some lives where one of them will remember but the other doesn’t and it’s kills them to keep it a secret. and they start to wonder if maybe they’re just cursed to be so close but never actually get to keep each other again.

or it’s 1995 and luke’s alive and he’s got all these big big dreams and doesn’t know that he’s missing someone. and he eats a bad hotdog and dies and some greater power shoves them into a black room for 25 years and then he’s back as a ghost and there’s this girl who feels to familiar to him but he doesn’t know why and it drives him a little mad. but he hears her sing and he knows that she’s important to him, even if he doesn’t know why. and julie doesn’t know either, but she knows that when she writes or sings with him it’s like something she hadn’t known was missing has found its way home.

and maybe it’s not until the moment they hug that they both realise they’ve done this before, but also never done this before. because luke is dead and julie is alive and maybe fate keeps bringing them together but something always seems to be trying to tear them apart too. and it’s heartbreak after heartbreak and there’s a moment. just a single moment, in the near-future where juile knows the boys are about to cross over and she’s going to loose him again, that she hates whatever it is that keeps doing this to them and wishes they’d stop. but she takes it back and the moment is over because she loves him and he loves her and they say goodbye, again, and luke promises they’ll get it right next time.

a couple of decades pass and julie lives a long happy life and dies peacefully in her sleep and then there’s these two little kids who meet on the first day of school and they don’t know each other, but they sit together anyway because it feels right.

and they become best friends and grow up together and it’s not until maybe they’re teenagers again that luke remembers but julie doesn’t and for a moment he’s terrified. because he knows what she’d wished last time, that she hated the pain, and that maybe it had worked, maybe that was their last life together. but then a week later as they’re writing a song together juile just looks up at him suddenly, eyes all wide and a little awed and luke knows she’s remembered and he’d promised they’d get it right this time and by god is he going to mean it

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #jatp #this has been in my head and in my drafts for months and i honestly dont know what to do with it #this also might be niche too me #because i love a reincarnated soulmates spanning centuries type situation #even though they're normally kinda sad #*

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mochegato · 3 years

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Hope on Board

Chapter 18 - Making a House a Home

Chapter 1 Chapter 17

The apartment was filled with boxes. Just a sea of boxes. Thank God they got help moving all the boxes from her and his apartments because she was pretty sure this would have taken them weeks on their own… well on Dick’s own since he wouldn’t let her carry anything heavier than a few books, about five was her allowed limit. Which was exceptionally frustrating because he was probably right and she probably shouldn’t carry anything heavier, but she probably would have if given the chance.

It had been a long day of packing and coordinating already and she was ready to eat and relax with Dick for a bit before they tackled the rest of the unpacking. She made her way out of the bedroom and toward the living room, but paused before she reached it. She could hear music coming from the living room, which wasn’t at all unusual or unexpected. What was unusual and unexpected was the type of music it was.

“Is that… are you listening to circus music?” Marinette asked uncertainly. She was pretty sure she’d heard him humming circus music before but humming was subconscious. It was things that got stuck in your head and you couldn’t get out. This was conscious. This was him deciding to forego typical music choices and actively search for this music. This was wanting to listen to circus music.

Dick whirled around with wide eyes at having been caught. He chuckled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I tend to do that.”

“Listen to circus music?” She asked incredulously.

“Yeah, it reminds me of my childhood and my parents,” he shrugged sheepishly.

She tilted her head slightly watching him as he focused intently on the box in front of him. “Did they used to take you to the circus a lot?” Her voice was soft and inquisitive. This was a part of him he hadn’t shared before. He didn’t seem to like talking about his parents or his childhood at all.

“I… did I not mention growing up in a circus?” His voice sounded surprised and he looked down as though trying to remember a nonexistent conversation.

She blinked at him a few times. “No…” she started out slowly, “no, I think I’d remember that. You haven’t really talked about your parents. You just said they died when you were nine and then Bruce took you in. You don’t really talk about your childhood at all, other than you were in diapers when you started studying gymnastics. Were they performers?”

A thoughtful expression settled on Dick’s face as he recalled his parents. He nodded slowly. “They were trapeze artists. We all were.”

Marinette gave him a soft smile and settled on the couch to listen. “That’s why you are so good at gymnastics and started when you were in diapers?”

Dick nodded absentmindedly as he started looking through the stack of framed posters leaning against the wall. “And why the manor has a trapeze set up.” He pulled out a poster leaning against the wall to show her. The poster was a stylized poster of a family of three swinging and flipping on a trapeze with bold letters sprawled across it. “We were the Flying Graysons at Haley’s Circus.”

“You're kidding,” she chuckled. “So you flew through the air with the greatest of ease?”

He grinned back, “What can I say, I was a daring young man on the flying trapeze.”

She gave him a supportive smile. “That’s why your Mom called you Little Bird, because you flew through the air.”

He nodded and turned back to the poster. When he spoke again it was soft and respectful. “We all flew. I miss it a lot, the feeling of flying through the air with a partner.”

Marinette looked at the poster, a distant look settling in her eyes. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

He looked back at her with a confused quirk to his head. “You do?”

“Oh, not like you. I… never mind. Akuma stuff,” she deferred, waving him off. “Tell me more about it. About your parents and the circus.” She looked up at him with big, inquisitive eyes. She really did want to know more about him and the things that mattered to him, that made him the man he was. And if that got the attention off her as well, then so much the better.

Dick grinned and sat on the couch next to her. “It was great. We traveled all around. I got to see so many places growing up and my parents were always right there for me. My Mom used to have the best, warmest smile. She made every place feel like home.” He looked over at Marinette and ran his fingers along her jaw. “Your smile reminds me of hers.”

Marinette blushed and looked down. She took a moment to gather herself and finally cleared her throat. “What about your Dad?”

“My Dad was great. He was supportive and loving. His laugh boomed out of him. He laughed with his whole body.”

“That sounds like you.” Marinette gazed adoringly up at him. “You laugh so hard your eyes crinkle and you throw your head back. Your whole chest shakes, which feels amazing when I’m pressed up against you when you do it. It’s always so full of life. You must have his laugh.” Dick stared at her in a lovesick daze. He was about to pull her to him and kiss her senseless when she spoke up again. “What else? What are your favorite memories?”

Dick continued to stare a few more moments uncertain if he wanted to continue or take her back to the bedroom and initiate their apartment, but her eyes were so fascinated, drinking in every detail of his life he was willing to share, that he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. “Flying,” he finally choked out. “Flying through the air with my parents,” he elaborated more evenly. “And wandering around the circus. The environment was always upbeat and fun. Oh! And Zitka!” His eyes lit up at the name.

“Zitka?”

“The elephant. I loved Zitka. I would hang out around her all the time. I used to help wash her down and we would play all the time. I visited the circus a few years ago… she still remembered me,” he finished quietly.

Marinette moved to cuddle closer to him. “That sounds amazing and if she still remembered you, you must have really been important to her too.”

Dick tightened her arm around her and looked down at her. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes, memorizing every curve and plane. He started to lean down towards her and suddenly cocked his head to the side halting his progress. A sly smile formed on his lips and he jumped up. He turned, bowing at the waist and offered his hand to Marinette. “May I have this dance?”

Marinette giggled at him finally noticing the change in music. The circus music had been replaced by a slow, romantic song. She placed her hand in his and let him help her off of the couch and into his waiting arms. “This one and all the ones after,” she answered sweetly.

Dick’s smile became awed. He leaned closer to her ear as they swayed together. “Promise?” he whispered.

Marinette bit her lip and looked up at him through half lidded eyes. She nodded shyly, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. Dick had been the one to reveal so much about himself and yet it felt like she was the one exposed, his honesty pulling out her emotions to lay bare.

Dick kept one arm around her waist but brought the other up to cup her face and slowly run his thumb over her cheek. He stared in her eyes, unable to look away from her tender, loving gaze. It took him a few moments to remember how to move his mouth to form words. He took a breath and licked his dry lips. “Marinette, I lo…” The distinctive romance killing chime sounded from his phone interrupting his next words. Dick looked up at the ceiling with an aggravated, frustrated groan. “Seriously?” He took a deep breath and looked back at Marinette. “I’m sorry. I have to… I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.” He walked into the other room to take the call.

Marinette took the time to fan her hot, flushed face. That man was going to be the death of her. Her eye caught on the poster he had pulled out earlier. She reached out and touched the poster, running her hands over the figures in it. A warm smile spread across her lips at knowing more about Dick’s parents and a plan started forming.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick sighed coming back into the room meekly.

Marinette could tell from the guilty look on his face he didn’t mean just the phone call. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “How long will you be gone?”

Dick sighed heavily and pulled her with him as he leaned against the arm of the couch. “I’m not sure. A couple days at least.” He wrapped his arms around her, settling her between his legs and laid his head on hers. “Less than a week,” remorse was heavy in his voice.

Marinette nodded weakly. “And when do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. Early. I’ll have to pack tonight.” He sighed heavily again. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t go if I didn’t think it was important, but it really is. I have to go. I’m sorry I’m leaving you with this mess. Feel free to leave it all until I get back.”

Marinette nodded and gave him an unconvincing smile. “It’s okay. It’s work right? You have to go. Timing sucks, but it isn’t like you have a choice. At least we’ll get to spend our first night here together. And I’ll have Adrien come over and help.”

Dick’s semblance of a brave face fell away. He pulled her deeper into his arms and held her as closely as he could, nuzzling into her and committing her calming smell to memory. He hated the Court of Owls. Everything about them destroyed his life. He did not want to go. He wanted to spend their first nights living together, together. That was one of the primary benefits of moving in together, the babies, but also because he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. And it was a way to ensure she actually slept instead of working through the night on designing or sleeping in a chair at her studio.

Instead, she was going to be spending her nights alone and he’d have to have one of his brothers check on her. She was going to have to unpack on her own and have Adrien come and help her. He felt like he was abandoning her. He should be doing those things not them. But he couldn’t not go. He had to go. He needed to stop the Court before whatever their plan was could go into fruition.

He felt a bump against his elbow and looked down. Kismet was rubbing against him to get in on the hug. He smiled at the interruption. Well, not completely alone. She would always have her black cat to watch out for her. Marinette chuckled and picked up the kitten. “Feeling left out, little one?” She lightly scratched between her eyes and brought her into their embrace. “Why don’t we spend tonight eating take out and cuddling on the couch instead of unpacking? I’d rather spend my time with you in your arms than unpacking.”

Dick grinned at her, kissing her temple. “I like that idea. I’ll order, you pick the show.”

<><><><><>

Has he mentioned he hated the Court of Owls? Six days investigating for one paltry lead. Six days away from Marinette and their new apartment. Six days he left her to unpack all on her own. He was already a shit roommate and partner. He was going to have to make this up to her, yet again. He knew she was excited to move in with him and he felt like he needed to prove to her that it was the right choice. It was a good decision. He was a good decision.

He fumbled with his keys, finally finding the right one. He smirked as a thought came to him. He opened the door. “Honey, I’m… home,” he finished lightly. A gasp left his lips.

Marinette walked into the room in a beautiful baby doll dress that accentuated her breasts and hung lightly over her baby bump. “Is that noise for the dinner, the apartment, or me?”

Dick took in the sight of the fully decorated apartment, delicious smelling dinner, and enticing girlfriend and could only nod dumbfounded, completely unsure which one to address first. “When did…”

Marinette giggled nervously. “If you don’t like anything, we can change it,” she rushed to assure him. “I didn’t know if you would appreciate decorating with me or having it done when you got home more, so I guessed.”

“Marinette…” he looked around taking in more of the details. There were pictures and designs from Marinette’s childhood and friends mixed in with items from Dick’s life and childhood. “Marinette this is amazing.”

Marinette let out a long sigh of relief. “Oh thank God.” She looked around proudly. “I can’t take all the credit. Or most of it actually. I did all the accessories and the stuff on the walls but… a few days after you left Bruce showed up with a bunch of painters, moving men, and furniture.”

Dick sighed again. “Yeah, that sounds like Bruce. Mari, do you like the furniture?”

Marinette gave him a reassuring smile. “I love it. Your family was conspiring behind our backs. You know you said to go ahead and find nursery furniture I liked?” Dick nodded. “I went looking with Tim and Duke. While we were out Tim kept asking about my style. He must be amazing in negotiations. I didn’t even realize he was pumping me for information until Bruce showed up with the colors and furniture. He assured me it was a mix of my style and yours, but if we didn’t like it he paid extra for them to come and switch it out.” Dick sighed again. “I tried to deny it and not accept, but he wouldn’t let me.”

Dick shook his head and kissed her cheek. “No, this is Bruce’s housewarming present for us. It’s how he shows he cares and is happy for us. Honestly, he tamed it down from what I expected him to try, probably out of respect for you, knowing how you would react.”

“This is tame?” Marinette exclaimed.

“If he thought you’d accept it, he probably would have bought us an entire house and furnished it. And with the twins coming, it probably would have been a manor near his so he could visit more often. Or try to convince you to move us into the manor.” He lowered his voice in a fairly good imitation of Bruce, “There’s more than enough space and I know Alfred would love to hear the sounds of little feet running around the manor again.”

Marinette giggled and pulled his attention back to her again. “So you really like it?” Dick nodded still looking at the pictures. “I asked Alfred for some pictures. He had a bunch. We went through quite a few.” She gave him a secretive smile.

Dick groaned. “Oh God, how bad did it get?”

“Well, I’ve officially decided you suck. You never had an awkward stage. You just went right from adorable to cute to hot to sexy. It isn’t fair.”

He chuckled and turned away pretending to examine more pictures while he hid his blush. “So Alfred provided the pictures, Bruce provided the furniture, Tim supplied the intel.” He looked back at her with a smile. “Sounds like a family affair.”

Marinette shook her head. “You have no idea. You’ve only seen the living room.”

Dick whipped his head around. “There’s more?”

Marinette grimaced slightly. “Tim did more than get intel. He went ahead and bought all my favorite nursery furniture I marked to show you. Duke was collecting the tags for everything while Tim distracted me. The entire apartment is fully stocked. Bruce bought the furniture. Alfred provided the pictures and talked with my parents and together told Bruce which kitchen supplies to get. Steph and Cass helped me pick out accessories and baby clothes. We had a few girl’s nights while you were gone. I suspect you told them not to let me work too late,” she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. Dick gave her his best unconvincing innocent look.

“Anyway, Tim provided the intel and bought the nursery furniture. He was surprisingly insightful in helping to select a glider we could sit in for hours at a time. Duke and Adrien helped set up the cribs and other nursery furniture. Jason provided a full library of books, from baby books to books they’ll like when they’re a bit older. It was a complete family affair. They were all really helpful and sweet.”

“Except Damian,” Dick added sadly.

“I just haven’t gotten to him yet,” Marinette assured him with a bright smile. “Bruce hired the painters and chose the colors for the entire apartment, made sure I approved before they painted, for everything but the nursery. The nursery was all me… and Damian and Barbara. Want to see it?” He eyed her suspiciously, but nodded. She took his hand and guided him back, the excitement in her smile rubbed off on him. His smile widened as large as hers. She took a deep breath and opened the nursery door.

Dick gasped and took a few unsteady steps into the room. He looked around unable to take in all the details so he focused on the biggest things, the paintings on the wall. Behind the cribs, acting like headboards, there were circus tents, the tops of the tents extending above the cribs. One pained in red and white stripes, the other pained in blue and white stripes. On the opposite wall were the extremely wide, completely full bookshelf and glider. Above it was a painting of trapeze artists in Flying Grayson colors mid-flight. On the third wall were the dressers and above them were framed original posters of the Flying Graysons, Haley’s Circus, and Zitka. In the corner were ropes hanging down and a board linking them high up with a few bird stuffies placed on it.

He stumbled over to the cribs in a daze looking in. The sheets had elephants on them and in them were stuffed elephants. Later he would notice the robins and bluebirds flying above the tents and the ladybug, bee, fox, turtle, and cat poking out between the furniture, but currently, he could barely take in the big things, let alone the details. Marinette came up behind him to wrap her arms around him, as much as her protruding belly would allow her to. “Barbara tracked down the posters and found a bunch of reference images. I sketched kind of what I wanted and Damian and I painted it together.” She left out his reasoning that this was for Grayson, not her. He deserved something nice to look at and while her sketching may be adequate for her needs, her artistic ability was extremely lacking. But he did it, so Marinette was taking that as a win. “Selina bought a lot of the baby toys and bouncers as well as toys for Kismet. Adrien tag-teamed with Steph, Cass, and Jason to force me to bed at a reasonable time so I didn’t stay up all night sewing the elephants. The entire family got together to help. They all banded together to work on it.”

She smiled up at him and wiped away his tears that were spilling out. He picked her up and hugged her so tightly, it was bordering on dangerous for her. God, he loved this woman so much. This was perfect. Everything about this was perfect. She was perfect. He didn’t deserve her, but he sure as hell was going to do everything in his power to change that and protect her and their family.

Chapter 19

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness @ichigorose @iloontjeboontje @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @golden-promises @trippingovermyfeet @emimar7 @laurcad123 @lady-bee-fechin

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - circus

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Text

Christmas at the Hoods

You escape your family by going home with Calum to Australia for the holiday. And the escape is necessary, but at the end of it, you’re reminded that sometimes family is chosen rather than given.

Reader Insert. Fluff a little bit of angst. You just a perfect amount of tear your heart out but then put it back like nothing ever happened.

CW: Death of a parent, strained family relationships.

Enjoy my masterlist.

Support me on KoFi

__________________________________________

You stare down at the text from your mother. Are u coming home for Christmas? The truth is--no, you don’t want to come home. Home is too stiff, reminds you just how much you don’t fit. And maybe it’s just you, you thinking that you won’t ever live up to their expectations of what your life should be like, and maybe it’s not fair to them. But given all that, you still don’t want to subject yourself to that awful feeling, the squirming in your spot wondering how long is appropriate for you to stay before you dip the family pretend bonding.

You don’t want to go home. But you don’t have an excuse not to go. You sigh and place your phone face down on the counter. Ice clinks around in the glass that Calum sets down in front of you. Over the speakers faintly, you hear the twang and kick of guitar as Carla Thomas sings her conversation with an imagined other. At Christmas time, Calum gave you control over the speakers whenever you come over. He liked the Christmas music you had saved and even if he didn’t always get full on decorations the music helped the holiday feel a bit more real for the time you were over at least.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “That had to be the heaviest sigh I’ve ever heard.”

“My mom,” you reply, unlocking your phone and showing him the text. “I can’t exactly say, ‘No, I don’t have any plans. But I don’t feel like pretending to care so I won’t be coming home.’ Wouldn’t go over nicely.”

Calum stares down at the text. The exchange previous to this was a Happy Thanksgiving text that you replied to and prior to that it seems like the conversation was just your mother updating you about the changes she was making to the home office. To which you only replied with ‘Pretty!’ but nothing more. He always suspected you and your family weren’t that close. You talked pretty highly of your dad, but he passed away a couple years ago. And you and your mother just didn’t click. Any sort of sustained interaction always seemed to go south. He just hadn’t had a clue just how sort you kept your conversations with your mother.

He had plans to go home to Australia. His sister was flying in too, the first time he wouldn’t have to split his Christmas vacation time between London and Sydney. Calum knew for sure that Luke was going home to Australia too. He wasn’t sure about Michael, though if previous years proved to be any sort of pattern, Michael would be spending Christmas with his partner’s family. Ashton seemed to be tentatively planning spending New Years in Australia at the very least. Sure you had other friends but given the holiday, he suspected that they might be traveling home or spending time with their families.

“Come with me to Australia,” he offers.

“You leave in a week, tops? The cost of that ticket on it’s own is going to be fucking awful.” You take your phone as it’s handed back over, but you only focus in on him. There was no way he was serious about an offer like that. There was no way he was getting a roundtrip ticket for you under three grand. Tickets for that kind of travel months in advance were easily a grand or more. So there was no way Calum could guarantee a ticket for you round trip in a week for a reasonable price.

“I always told you I was going to take you home with me one of these days,” he counters. “Show you those Sydney streets I grew up on.”

You laugh at the way he bobs with his fists in front of his face like a boxer in the middle of the ring. “Yeah, when we could both plan it out and I could at least pay for my own airfare. I can’t Cal. I appreciate it and you. But that’s too soon and I can’t have you dropping money like that on me such short notice.” You take the glass from the counter and spin around in the barstool before traveling to the couch.

Calum drops his arms and follows behind. He’s not worried about money. That’s nothing. “I can’t leave you alone for the holidays. I know going home would just be rough right now. I’d-I’d come with you if you wanted.”

“Oh my god, Calum, no. Go home. You haven’t seen your mom and dad in ages. I’ll be okay.”

“If I cancel I can still get a voucher for another time,” he offers and settles onto the ottoman in front of you.

“Go home. See your parents. Give them a hug. Fucking hell, I’m not worth canceling a trip over. I’ll suffer through this Christmas like I have every other Christmas.”

With a tap to your knee, Calum shakes his head. “My friend absolutely cannot spend Christmas miserable. I won’t have it.”

You shake your head. It’s not like you haven’t had to spend every other CHristmas miserable--what’s one more to the list? Calum looks to the coffee table and spies his phone. He stretches out for it. This would be embarrassing to admit. He wasn’t going to do it like this. In all actuality, he had meant to ask you last week. But you had to out of town for a conference. He hadn’t realized the conference was this late in the year but it was one that you had been trying to get into for years, so when you landed the opportunity, Calum knew you’d take it in a heartbeat.

You take hold of the phone as it’s handed to you. “What’s this?” You ask but Calum remains silent and you glance down to the phone to see it opened to an app. “Why am I staring at trip information?”

“It’s because I bought two round trip tickets,” he returns.

“What do you mean you bought two tickets?”

“One of those is for you. If you want to go.”

You drop his phone into your lap and push to the edge of the seat. “When the hell did you buy these tickets?”

“A couple months ago. I knew the holidays were always a little rough for you.” He shrugs. “At least you won’t have to lie to your mum now.”

“Calum you are the most insane person I’ve ever met and I’ve lived with myself for a while now. When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

“I had plans to last week. But I remembered you were going out of town for that conference and I wanted you to focus on that since you had to present and be on a panel too.”

“How fucking early do I need to wake up?” you asks.

“I-I figured you come over the day before, sleep over and then I’d drive us to the airport.”

“It’s summer in Australia right now, correct?” He nods at your question. “Beaches?”

“If you wanna go, sure.”

“Do I get to say that I’m being kidnapped for Christmas?”

“If you really want to phrase it like that.”

“I’m in,” you agree and Calum smiles, wrapping his arms around you as you fall into him in a hug. “Thanks, Cal.”

“Of course,” he returns softly. He’d do anything for you, or just about anything if he’s honest. You matter to him and even if he does have to kidnap you for the holidays, he’s happy to do it if it means you won’t be miserable.

A couple hours go by and you head home, now having to start packing for the holiday trip with Calum. As you sit on the floor in front of your suitcase, you pick up your phone. You aim to go the weather app and see what it’s like in Sydney right now. But the text notification from your mom still lingers on the messages app. You tap on it and reply. No, Mom, sorry. Going to visit Australia for Christmas.

Who’s in Australia?

Calum’s family is there.

Who’s Calum? Is that the boy you talk about in the band?

“Fuck,” you mutter, realizing there were two ways this could go. You hadn’t ever really talked about your friends with your mother. Your dad knew and he filled her in a little bit, but even still you didn’t tell him a lot before he died. Mostly because you were afraid. What would happen if you told him everything and you needed help and he died? He’d be the only one to know and then he’d be gone. You’d have no one. So you told him half of everything. You told him about the band and some of your friends and you told him that you were doing okay. But you didn’t tell him that you were finally starting to figure what what you were meant to be doing on this earth. You didn’t tell him that you were dating around. Your dad only knew half the truth and now you realized all he could tell was half your truth to your mother. He could only convey what he knew and your mother didn’t always listen too well. She always got into her head what she wanted to hear and that’s the version she went with.

You can almost imagine your mother now, sitting on her couch tapping at the screen of her phone with one finger and looking up to the kitchen where your dad would usually be--and here, she would call out to your dad to ask Do you know about this Calum fella? They ever talk to you about ‘im? And your dad would reply in some sorts clipped and in half truths, Yeah, they’re friends or something. He’s got a good head on his shoulders from what I could tell. Because that what your dad would always say about any of your friends, that they always had a good head on their shoulders because he trusted you.

Your dad told you once that he said they always had a good head on their shoulders because you had a good head on yours and you’d never be friends with anyone that didn’t match morals like yours. He knew you’d never get mixed up in something that you couldn’t see yourself out of because he had raised you, because he had to trust you now; his fears couldn’t stand in the way of you living your life.

If you could tell your dad the whole truth, you would. You would tell him the first year after his diagnosis you lost yourself. You’d tell him that Calum had found you more than once on the edge of something dark and secured you to his chest for nights on end. He’d take you the studio with you just so you wouldn’t be alone. You’d tell your dad about the times you cooked all his favorites just so your house smelt of him. You’d tell him that even though you and your mother fought and you felt like you were always at arm’s length with some family, you always loved him. You’d tell him everything in full detail so that when he died, he would die knowing fully.

Yeah, you start typing to reply to your mother’s question, he’s the guy in the band.

Enjoy. But you should see family during this season too. Remember the ones that have been with you through thick and thin.

You don’t respond to the text. More than half of your mom’s side didn’t show up to the funeral. They never liked your dad all too much and you were slowly uncovering why. But no matter the reasons, it hurt. It hurt to walk with your mother down the aisle of that church to the funeral procession and seeing a halfway empty church because her side hadn’t supported the marriage. Your father was dead and the least they could do was show up to a fucking funeral. There’s no thick or thin in that, just them.

Another text buzzes through your phone. It’s from your aunt, on your dad’s side. We’re loving the pj’s! Nana’s rocking the new slippers and everything. Take care and rest. Wanna come by for New Years? We may be old but we can still keep up!

You laugh at the photo of your grandmother, sleeping as she sits on the couch, bundling up in the robe you also ordered for her. The new slippers are almost falling off her feet. That’s keeping up if I’ve ever seen it, you return. I might come by a little after New Years but I’ll bring the wine--you just bring the chips and dip. Going out of town for a little bit.

No worries! We’ll see you then. Chips and dip are stocked. Don’t you worry. Enjoy!

There’s a twinge--you almost want to stay just for them. But nothing feels the same anymore if you’re honest. When you hang out with your dad’s side of the family, there’s a hole. His seat is way too empty, even if you sit in. There’s no one to joke around. Your grandmother has no one to pass on her list of chores too besides finding people in town to help her with. And it’s not the same. They don’t laugh when she hands it over. They don’t joke that they only had a son just so he could do all the house repairs, or lawnmower repairs.

It has to be hard for them too. It’s all around just not a great time. But then in your peripherals you see your halfway packed suitcase, the swimsuits you’ve rolled up and tucked into one of the mesh pouches. Was this running? Or was this healing? Was going all the way to Australia just an escape? Maybe it was all three, but it was running into an escape but on the other side, there was some healing in it too. You continue packing, pulling out some loungewear and figuring how many pairs of jeans to include on this trip too.

You feel silly in your sneakers and leggings as more people filter into the terminal area from TSA in bulky coats. But Calum’s dressed roughly the same next to you, only in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Your phone shakes in your hands. Let me know when you land, your mother requests in the text.

Will do.

“Do your parents know I’m coming?” you asks, suddenly remembering that you will be in their place for three weeks.

“They know,” Calum returns, slouching down in the chair. “Trust me. Mum keeps asking me if you have any food allergies or dietary restrictions. And everytime I answer, she asks if I have checked in with you recently about it. And I have a feeling if you suddenly sprouted some new allergy, I would know by now.”

“That’s how moms are,” you laugh.

“Don’t be surprised if you find your favorite snacks just chilling in the kitchen.”

The thought of Joy going out of her way to find out via Calum about your favorite snacks and to only have them just in her cabinets or pantry makes you laugh but deeper than that you feel touched, chest warming just a little at the thought that she’d do something above and beyond. You slouch down to match Calum and rest your head onto his shoulder. “Is your childhood bedroom still embarrassing?”

A soft exhale of laughter pushes through Calum’s chest. “No, not too embarrassing anymore. Some of the posters are still up and mum’s changed the bedding for sure. A few of my things are tucked into the closet. But Mum’s said she’s been going through things in the house slowly so maybe she’s put more things on display just to set me up.”

You nod. “I imagine there are going to be lots of sports posters.”

“Ding, ding, ding,” Calum chimes, resting his cheek on your head. “I was supposed to be the sports kid. I mean, I was the sports kid for a really long time.”

“Then you found out you had those pipes,” you laugh, tapping on his chest.

“Yeah, then I realized music was a thing. Mali used to blast R&B and I mean blast it. But she’s always had great taste in music so it was never like the songs were bad. They were just loud. Sometimes I’d stay with Michael for as long as I could. Not that I didn’t want to be home, I just wanted to save my ears for a little bit before Mali and Dad would take over.”

“Your dad sings?”

“He’ll tell you only a little bit. But yeah, he sings.”

“So it’s a family trait!” you laugh. “A long line of singers.”

“Mum would disagree with you.”

You glance down and look at the initials inked into his skin. You brush your thumb over Joy’s. You had only heard about her. Once you saw her. Calum was calling home when you dropped by unplanned. It was quick, you waved at her from his computer but mostly you hang around in the kitchen, petting Duke as he wrapped up the call. From the way he talks about her, you know he’s close to his family. You know being away from home is hard sometimes for him. You’ve talked to Mali more, caught Calum a few times FaceTiming her too, or meeting her when she visited LA for his birthday. You know about his Dad too. Haven’t met him yet, but you’ve seen him when you watched the ARIA’s one year and he dad popped up in the crowd while the band performed. You screencapped the moment and send it as a reaction photo to Calum whenever he shares good news. You’re sure he must be sick of it, but he never says anything about your habit.

“There’s a little shop not too far from the house. I used spend hours to looking at all the trinkets. I think you’d like it,” he admits quietly.

“Yeah, I’d be down for that.”

“But first, there will be food,” he laughs just as the speakers overhead crackle to life and the voice faintly reminds everyone of the boarding procedure. You can Calum both stand, slinging backpacks onto your shoulders as you want for them to call group one to board. “Lots of food.”

“I’m ready,” you return.

Sleep on the plane isn’t all that restful, but you take it in stride though you manage to make progress in your book. Halfway through the flight, Calum holds out one of his earbuds to you. “You’ll like it,” he urges and you take the bud placing it into your ear.

Somewhere between the songs that Calum plays and the movie you’re not fully paying attention to, sleep claims you once again. And you let it hold you well past the light layer of sleep you had the first time. Sleep lays claim to you, holding you deeply into its grasps. You only find yourself waking up when the lights on the plane lift just a little and it breaks through your lashes and Calum shakes you awake. The two of you climb from your seats, backpacks on shoulders and wind through the airport to baggage. Thanks to the cat and dog luggage tags you bought, spotting your and Calum’s luggage is easy. Calum easy snatched the cartoon dog but you didn’t put up a fight. You let him have it, especially since it looked slightly reminiscent of Duke.

As you gather your luggage, you hear a voice from behind you. Calum turns to the sound of it immediately, his hand leaving the handle of his suitcase. You grab it for him and watch him, hearing his laughter escape him, as he runs up to his mother. “Mum,” he laughs, “hey!”

The hug looks bone crushing, only the hug a mom can give that even if it shouldn’t be tight is tight because there’s nothing like the squeeze. “Oh, my boy,” she grins. It lights up her whole face and you stand, just behind them, a couple feet off, both suitcases in front of you.

Joy spots you and the grin grows brighter. She releases Calum and shuffles up to you, arms still opened wide. “Hi! Look at you,” she greets. You immediately step out from the luggage. She’s warm and taller than you imagined as you hug her. She gives you a squeeze and your eyes water just a little. There’s something to the embrace that makes your chest tight and you find yourself clinging a little tighter to her too as she runs on about how late it is, and how hungry and tired you both must be. She keeps you close, an arm around your shoulders, hand splayed across your back. Joy pinches Calum’s cheek and wraps her other arm around his waist.

“C’mon, c’mon,” she urges. “David’s with the car. But I just couldn’t wait to see you both. Oh, it’s so good.”

Even as you exiting the plane it shocked you just how bright in the day it was still. But when you look down at your phone you realize you’re almost a whole day ahead, now standing in the middle of the afternoon, as if you somehow only flew a few hours instead of half the day. Calum’s dad is not parked too far from the entrance. As the three of you approach, he runs up some of the way with a large smile. “Aye!” he laughs, hands clapping Calum on the back. “Look at you!” “I swear I haven’t gotten any taller, Dad.”

“Coulda fooled me,” David returns. “Now,” he laughs, pointing to you. “I heard you got dragged along. Did ya put up a fight?”

“Less of a drag, more a kidnapping,” you return but step into the embrace with a laugh.

“Next time, next time, you’ll go a couple rounds with him, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, next time.” You don’t know if it’s going to be a next time but the idea sounds nice. Calum and David load up the suitcase into the trunk before all four of you slip into the car--you and Calum in the back.

“Hope they haven’t scared you off,” Calum whispers to you. You shake your head, mouth opening to say more but then David pipes up from the front seat. You almost don’t catch what he says, but Joy and Calum respond, so you stay quiet with a bit of a nod and watch the lights fade behind you as you travel down the streets. You make sure to text your mother that you arrived safely.

Calum’s room isn’t so bad, like he figured. Though you do almost wish there were a few more embarrassing posters on the wall. No sooner than the two of you can slip bags off and get out of shoes, a knock sounds from the door. It’s Joy, peeking her head inside. “Calum knows this, but you’re free to whatever’s in the house to munch on. I think there’s a few beer already cold too. But,” she waves her hand a little as if dismissing the thought. “either way, whatever’s there, you’re welcome to take.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hood.”

“Joy, call me Joy.”

“Thank you, Joy.” She nods and then slips back out of the room.

“They’ll be like that for another couple of days, but don’t mind them.” Calum shows you were the linen’s closet is and where the bathroom is too. “If you wanna shower first, I’ll whip up some snacks.”

“Oh, that’s some hard work putting together some snacks.”

He glares at you, throwing a towel at your head. You manage to duck it though it does land on your shoulder. You laugh as he flips you off and then heads to the kitchen. You head back to the room and grab a different set of clothes. It takes a moment to get the water right but you keep the shower as short as you can and slip into the clean clothes.

You return to the kitchen and find Calum with a plate of various chips, fruit snacks, and a small section of meat and cheeses out. He cracks open a beer just as you pad into the kitchen. “Want one?” he asks, but you decline the offer.

“It’s cozy,” you say softly looking around the living room and kitchen of the house. Even Calum’s room teleports you. You’re not sure where just yet, and even though it’s obviously a whole different continent there’s something about the house, about seeing Calum’s family so visibly happy to have him back home and the genuine smiles that feels like a warm blanket straight from the dryer. It envelopes you.

Calum shrugs a little. To him, it’s just familiar and a tad foreign. Like he can’t remember if the paintings are the same ones from his last visit but the pictures of him and Mali have never changed. The family vacation photos still line the walls too--unwavering it seems even against all of his mum’s decorating attempts. “Once Mali comes into town, it’ll feel complete,” he states. You wonder how any of this could feel incomplete, but don’t voice that curiosity.

Calum runs up to shower next and in the middle of your munching, Joy returns to the kitchen too. “I’m surprised you’re still standing upright.”

“Oh I could fall over at any point. Keep an eye out.”

Leaning into the counter she nods. “Time zones are killer. I’d say try to make it through as much of today as you can and then zoink out later on. Might be easier to adjust to the time that way.”

“I’m hoping,” you say.

“Calum told me you went to a conference last week. How’d that go?”

“It went well. Slight tech issues with my presentation but we managed to pull through unscatched after that.” You talk a little bit more about it, but are aware that you feel like you're rambling. When you ask her a few questions, she’s more than willing to answer them but she keeps them short and instead asks you more questions too.

“As the best friend, I feel like I need embarrassing material. Do you have photos of baby Calum?” you ask after a bit.

“Of course I do. He asked for some for a video once and I scanned over the most neutral ones. But if you want embarrassing photos, I got ‘em,” she laughs, wiping the salt off her fingers from a chip and waving for you to follow her.

Calum returns the sound of laughter and you cooing about something, he thinks you might’ve mentioned chubby cheeks and he knows without a doubt it’s him. “If you are going to embarass me I’d like to be in the room,” he states, seeing the photo album open on your lap. He steps to the arm of the couch you’re near and watches you flip through a few pages. You pause at a couple and pull your phone out to snap a few pictures of the picture. He doesn’t miss the several messages still lingering on your notification screen from your mother.

It’s over dinner that Joy suggest putting the tree up over the weekend, since Mali will be in town at that point too. No one objects to this plan and the latter half the week you and Calum spend mostly trying to adjust to the time change, though Calum seems to be having an easier go of it than you. Mali is licked up from the airport and you linger behind knowing that there’s not quite enough space for all three of you in the seat. It’s a little strange to be lingering around in Calum’s old room at his mum’s house but it’s not to bad. You take in all the sports posters, notice some medals and trophies still hanging around to otherwise bare shelves. Among them are some photos too--mostly of Calum and the guys. A few of some people you’ve never seen before and you assume they’re friends from soccer, or other sports along the way.

The sound of laughter echoes around you. Though you do hold onto one photo of Calum. He’s in a jersey, arms thrown over the shoulders of two other boys. They smile wide and big at the camera. The grassy fields hold blurry people and you like to imagine in that blur there are parents hugging kids, or kids running to their parents. There are coaches, people shouting in those blurs. The sounds of feet on stair should break you out of your trance staring down at the photo and you hear more laughter too. But you continue to stare down at younger Calum.

Calum tries to catch onto Mali’s wrist. “Do not! God,” he huffs when she slips through his hold. She laughs, backpack still on and barrels past her old room to Calum’s. You’re standing halfway turned to the door, but still clearly engrossed in something.

“Hey,” Mali huffs out, slipping just inside the cracked door. “Have you found the good blackmailing photos yet?”

You jump just a little but lift your gaze and find Calum’s sister beaming brightly at you. “Hi,” you return with a laugh. “I found a few. Your mum broke out the photo album.”

“Good,” she returns. “Sorry for kicking you out of the arrival party. It’s not normally five of us.”

“No, no, it’s cool. I couldn’t necessarily swing a vote on voting Calum out, so, I just took that blow.”

She gives a light tuft of laughter and hisses just a little. “Yeah that’d be a little hard to swing. But I’ll teach ya a few pointers for next time.”

“I’d appreciate that,” you return and Mali excuses herself to drop off her bag. Everyone seems hooked on the concept of a next time. It falls easily from their lips and while you’ve enjoyed the time here thus far, next time isn’t on your mind. Honestly, you’re not sure what’s on your mind besides not thinking about the text messages you need to respond too. Most of them seem to be about making sure you’ve adjusted to the time difference, if you’ve seen anything exciting. And you want to tell her--but you know you’d most likely tell her half truths too. Possibly even quarter ones. So you’ve opted to tell her nothing really. It seems trivial to explain to her that you’ve gone out a couple times--to the beach and the shop that Calum mentioned earlier. Most of the time though, you spend with Calum going down his memory lane. You rode past the school’s he attended, saw all the spots he used to hang out. Those don’t feel like the spots your mother is looking for.

When the Christmas tree is unearthed and Joy brings out the decorations you don’t think about those text messages again. You instead help feed the garland around the tree to Calum who’s standing at the back of the tree and he passes it along to his mon and she passes it to Mali and Mali passes it back to you. And that’s the way it goes for the lights too. Once those are put up, you look over the bulbs that Joy has. Behind you Calum and Mali are already working to put the hooks through the box Joy approved. You’re trying to help her find the last box in that set.

“Short end, Calum. Short end is what you hook through the top of the bulb.”

“Which end is short then?” you hear him return.

“That end,” she laughs. “I’ll put the hooks. You put them on the tree. Don’t put the same colors close together. Space them out.”

“I can decorate a tree,” Calum states.

“Sometimes I wonder.”

You find the last box of bulbs in the matching set, under a layer of icicle like ornaments. “Found ‘em,” you tell Joy and she beams, stopping her work on the box she was digging in.

“Ah! I’m not sure how they got separated.”

“Someone packed them wrong,” Mali returns, focused in on hooks still. “Most likely,” she counters. You step over to her and help prep more ornaments. A few look homemade with popsicle stick and felt. You pause looking at them on the table.

“Made ‘em in primary,” Calum answers, picking up the ornaments you’ve already hooked. “I thought Mum would give up on bringing them out.”

“But I never have and never will,” she counters picking them up and proudly displaying them on the front of the tree.

Calum makes a show to wave his hands. “That.”

“You made them and I cannot not display them,” Joy laughs and takes the bulb you’ve prepped.

“I think it should be the star,” you tease.

“Do not give Mum any ideas,” Calum groans. “She needs zero ideas.”

“My dad would put mine near the star. I used to hate it too,” you offer.

“Because he was proud of them! See, it’s a parent thing,” Joy laughs, taking another ornament.

You don’t respond, giving a shrug. Maybe it’s a parent thing. And maybe it’s just a love thing, you think. Maybe putting your atrocious ornaments near the top was a way your dad was saying you were always near the top, he was always thinking of you first. When you blink the silver hooks blur for a moment and it hits you that you might be crying. So you blink again and the tears don’t completely clear.

Arms are around your shoulder and you think it’s Calum but as you turn into the embrace, you notice it’s Joy. “Hey, it’s okay,” she offers. She’s quick to scoot you over to the other end of the living room and hands you a tissue. “Do you want to keep on decorating? You can take a breather.”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Her hand runs a soothing line up and down your back. You can only nod. It takes another moment and a deep inhale before you find a resolve. Joy takes your spot hooking the ornaments and you hang one up on the branch. You’re not even sure if Calum and Mali noticed your quick time out, but they don’t seem to be visibly concerned. You finish the tree half an hour later--many ornaments had to rearranged after realizing the back hadn’t gotten nearly enough love. You snap a photo and you don’t think too much about sending it to your aunt and your grandmother, but you hover over your mom’s contact.

Would she think you’re betraying? Would she find some way to say that you could’ve been home decorating the tree too and that she could’ve used the help since Dad wasn’t around anymore? You don’t hit send. Instead you lock your phone, place it face down and ask Joy if she needs or wants any help cooking dinner. She waves you in happily, explaining the dish she’s preparing to you as you wash your hands. This is easy. This feels complete, listening to the sounds of the TV in the background. Knocks at the door don’t make your heart startle and you almost know, without looking, that it’s David. And he no doubts has an armful of things--food, drinks, and god knows what else.

“Do-do you mind me asking about your mom?” Joy brings up as you tend over your hot pan.

“I,” and all words have fallen from your brain. “I don’t know,” you answer. It sounds so stupid but it’s the truth. The whole truth. “I don’t know how I feel. I-I wouldn’t be upset, but there may or may not be a reason I’m hiding on the other side of the world.”

It’s a small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless that Joy gives. “You know, fair. It’s okay if you don’t know. Instead, we’ll knead dough,” she offers, “or whatever else we need to do.”

“I’ll take kneading dough.”

There’s a nod and a smile, an understanding that kneading dough is the best alternative. The sleeves to your hoodie start to slip down again and just before you can clear your hands from the flour to pull it up, two hands come from the side. Calum, you deduce. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Did Mum put you to work or did you volunteer?”

“Volunteered,” you answer and go back to kneading the dough. The fridge door opens and then closes a few seconds later.

“You’re a guest. You don’t have to you know?”

“I know. Just need to do something.”

“Besides not answering your mom’s texts.”

“Besides not answering my mom’s texts,” you agree. Calum reaches across the counter and grabs your phone. You gave him the passcode ages ago and shockingly he remembered it. “Gonna delete the embarrassing photos?” you tease. You already emailed yourself copies just in case you tried too.

“Nah, no need. You’d just find a way to get them again.” You watch him for just a moment open up the app and the picture of the tree is still loaded in. “Why didn’t you send this?”

“Because I didn’t want her bitchin’ to me about how I could’ve been doing that with my real family. I would rather decorate a tree with you and your family anyway. Just as real as anything else,” you huff out, pushing in a little harder into the dough.

Calum pauses for a moment, glancing over to you. He’s not even sure his ears actually heard what you are saying. “What?” he asks in an exhale.

“I’d rather spend legit any holiday with you.”

He stops you, a hand on your wrist. “Did-did you just admit that you’d spend any holiday with me and my family?”

“Do you want bread or not?” you ask and he releases your wrist. “But yes, I did admit it.” You look up from the dough, knowing you’ve worked well enough for you to be done. The Christmas tree twinkles from the corner and it’s nice to see a family together--there’s no arguments, no need to feel like you’re at arm’s length. The TV plays and it’s idealistic. It’s what you want, not the screaming that occurs on most holidays, no one too drunk off their ass, no one being kicked out.

“I like it here,” you admit softly. Christmas is about five days out and you still need to wrap Calum’s present. It’s currently hiding in your suitcase and you want to get something nice for his parents for hosting you, and you’re not entirely sure what to get Mali but you want to do something nice for her too. Calum doesn’t miss the way you stare, the longing in your gaze as you’re still knuckle deep in dough. “I could send the photos to Dad. He’d probably just send a thumbs up. But, still it would’ve been better.”

“Then send it to him.”

“Mom disconnected the line. I have no clue who has the number now.”

“Send it anyway. Whoever it is, probably wouldn’t mind.”

You shake your head and look down at the dough. It’s done and you place it back into the bowl. The idea is asinine to you. No stranger would be okay with getting a random text about a Christmas tree you decorated and whatever sob story you’d type out. Best not to bother a stranger. Even as Calum tries to urge you one last time, you don’t give in. You move about the kitchen as if you’ve always worked in and wash your hands. It doesn’t take you long before you settle onto the couch next to Mali.

I know this might be strange, Calum starts drafting. But my best friend lost their dad about two years ago and this is his old number (this is their number and they still has the number saved). I took them to see my family for Christmas since they and their mom and that side are in a rough spot. I say that like it hasn’t been years of a rough spot but they helped us decorate the tree. I don’t know who’s going to see this, if it’ll go through or not, but I’m hoping for a miracle, I guess, for kindness in the universe and kindness in a stranger. They just needs something good, so we hope you enjoy our Christmas tree. They told my mum about how their dad would put the homemade ornaments near the star. Needless to say my mum agreed with the idea. If you see this, and get the picture, I hope you have safe and happy holidays.

Calum doesn’t even think twice about hitting send on the message. He finishes pouring himself a glass of water and pour another one for you too. By the time he grabs a snack too your phone buzzes again. There’s a response from the number that once belonged to your dad.

Tree looks awesome, kid, reads the first message. And then another one follows it. Homemade decorations near the top are the only way to go. Hope your friend gets through the holidays safely, but with people like you in their life, we think they will. Happy Holidays and enjoy our tree too. A picture comes attached with it.

Calum leaves the response up. It works out perfectly that the first response sits directly under the picture Calum sent. The first part of the second text is still visible but he doesn’t worry about that. He taps on your shoulder. “The world’s not so bad after all,” he states.

It takes you a moment to realize who the message is under. And you know it’s not actually your dad. You know that line went cold months ago.Your dad didn’t call you kid too much else he was trying to annoy you. But it’s something about seeing a message from that number that makes your chest ache. For a split moment in time, he’s real again. A sob racks through your chest and you're quick to cover your mouth, aware that other people are around. “I should’ve told him so much more,” you gasp and another sob breaks the sentence up just a little at the end. But all you can do is stare at the response with blurry vision.

Calum wraps you into his arms, pulling you into his chest. “Hey, you can still tell him. Maybe not by texting this number but you can still tell him,” he whispers. And though you tremble against him, he manages to get you to the shelter of the stairs. You settle oddly on top of him, your legs draping over his and your cowered into his chest mostly. But you don’t object to the arrangement.

Joy places a box of tissues down next to you both and settles on the step just below Calum. Her hand is warm on your knee. “I thought you were kneading dough.”

You chuckle just a little but tremors still rock you. “Dough didn’t have a lot of resistance.”

She nods, tsking just a little. “Ah, next time I’ll have you knead two loaves.” Once she’s sure you’ve cried it all out, she leaves you be, though most of her comfort was soft reassurance and knee pats. But it’s just what you need.

Calum guides you upstairs and unearths his journal from his bag. Or at least a journal you think you’ve seen him writing in before. “I was going to give this to you on Christmas. But it sounds like you could use it now. Whatever you wanted to tell your dad, write it down. Pretend like your writing letters to him. I know know it might sound silly, but it helps me.”

The journal is leather, embossed on the front are your initials. It almost looks too expensive to even write in it, but when Calum hands you a pen you think you might explode again if you don’t get it off your chest. So you settle onto the edge of his bed, which is barely just enough space for two of you to sleep on during the night and tell your dad all the full truths. Everything you felt like he couldn’t take the grave, you spill onto the page.

Dad, It’s Christmas. Or it’s nearly Christmas. I’m in Australia with Calum and I’ve already had one emotional breakdown. So we need to reset the count on that one. It’s hard without you. Joy put Calum and Mali’s old homemade decorations near the star of the tree and all I wanted was to be six again and be up on your shoulders and have you force me to put my decorations up high on the tree for everyone to see. I used to hate it. When you did that. But now I miss it.

I miss a lot of things, I guess now. I miss being honest with you. I wasn’t very honest while you were dying. I was afraid that I told everything I’d be weak. That if I told you everything you’d take all the words with you when you died and I wouldn’t be able to tell anyone else since it would’ve been one of the last things I told you. It all sounds silly now to write it down, but that’s what I thought.

Here’s the other half I never told you.

Calum lingers, sitting on the floor and finding one of his old guitars sitting on the floor tucked into a corner. He slides over, and places it into his lap before strumming mindlessly over it. The scratch of the pen is hardly audible as he strums but he can envision what it sounds like, see how fast you’re scribbling words down onto the page.

Later in the week, as you have Mali and Calum helping you find a gift to give their parents, you stop at one of the small shops in the mall. Mali’s wandered off to the far corner but Calum’s close next to you, glancing around the walls for something that looks remotely interesting and appropriate. The housewares all look too dated and Calum’s not even sure what his parents do and don’t have to even suggest something like this. But Mali thought it might be a good place to stop so the three of you stopped to look.

“Thanks,” you say to Calum, running a finger over a serving spoon. “For the journal. It helped a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” he beams at you. His attention is still filtering around the store. “I have no clue what to even suggest in a place like this for my parents. They’re not super into stuff like this.”

“You sure a Kiss The Cook apron wouldn’t do the trick?” you joke holding up the red and white apron.

“Hmm, afraid not,” he laughs. The two of you still wonder about the store and you find a couple cookbooks that seem interesting. One’s for cocktails and Calum says it’s a definite--his dad would enjoy flipping through it. Neither he or Mali had gotten one for him before, so it won’t be a duplicate.

“Your mom has a lot of photos you guys. You think she’d be into something like this?” you ask, pointing out to a few picture frames. They’re all collages, just arranged differently. Calum seems to be vaguely interested though Mali worries about the fact that she tends to keep them in a particular way.

“Could make one with the photos you’ve taken over this trip, she loves stuff like that and I’m sure she wishes she could get more photos of us now since we’re gone. We spend a day taking some photos in front of our old stomping grounds and I know she’d love it,” Calum offers looking over to Mali.

She shrugs. “That could work. Sure we can’t say it was from all of us?” she jokes.

“I wouldn’t mind, especially since you two would be doing some leg work in it,” you state.

“If we’re going to do it,” Mali counters. “Let’s go with this one.” She points to a wooden slab with rows of twine wrapped around and clasps that are wooden too where stock photos are currently pinned but it’s clear that you can add your own photos.

“This really blows my flowers out of the water,” Calum mutters, holding onto the paid for box of the wooden frame.

“You also got her the embroidered pillow,” you counter. The pillow has the coordinates of Sydney, LA, and London on it--for each of the cities they’re in respectively.

“True,” he nods. “But still,”

“If you don’t want--” you start but he cuts you off.

“Hey, no, I want to do this. Shush,” he laughs. “We gotta make another stop though. I’ve seen ads for those portable printers and can print photos and I don’t see either one of you with those old school polaroid cameras.”

“I’ll have you know,” Mali teases. But she interrupts her own joke as a ponderous hum falls from her. She rattles off a couple stores that could have it.

“Let’s give it a shot,” Calum returns. The first store is a bust but the second one has it. They grab one of the last ones off the shelf and scurry to the lines. They’re long and it’s no avoiding it two days from Christmas. The rest of the day, Mali navigates, pulling over into random parking lots and telling stories about their childhood.

You snap as many photos as you can. Some are more planned than others but it’s okay. You play with angles, flipping your phone upside to get some cool shots and you’re honestly impressed with the quality of just a cellphone camera. By the time it starts to get dusk, you’re half convinced your phone will alert you that you’re almost out of space. It’s not too hard to sneak the bags up to the bedrooms. You take up distracting Joy just a little as Calum and Mali book it up the steps.

“Oh, this reminds me,” Joy says standing right as Mali clears the first step. “If you need any sort of wrapping supplies they’re in here,” she directs you down the hall and you watch Calum and Mali clear into one of the bedrooms, you think it’s Mali’s before diverting your attention back to the wrapping paper.

“Thanks,” you nod at her. “I’ll be down in a few if you want help with dinner?”

“An extra pair of hands never hurt,” she counters with a grin and it’s become a tradition, or a thing at the very least that you help her with dinner and she’s given up on trying to shoo you out of the kitchen.

You take the stairs slowly, but you can feel the buzzing in your pocket. No doubt Calum bugging you relentlessly that you’re needed upstairs. You find them in Mali’s room situated on the floor as she removes the pictures from the frame and Calum seems to messing with the printer. “Thank you for joining us,” he teases. Music starts up and the door closes.

You settle on the floor next to him. “My job was to distract so that’s what I did. What do I need to do?”

“Pairs with BlueTooth, so I just gotta get this thing on.”

“Let me know when it’s up,” you return and then pull up the photos you took on your phone. Mali helps pick out which photos have to go onto the frame. It’s only a minute or two later that Calum tells you to make sure your phone has the BlueTooth turned on.

“You cannot use that,” he laughs, as the first photo prints out. “I look so dumb in that take.”

Mali laughs. “Oh, c’mon it’s a pretty shot.”

“Yeah of you,” he returns.

You swipe to the next photo and there are no photo blunders for either one of them so you print that one down. Some are in front of buildings that you’re not even sure could mean anything. A couple are of Calum’s old practice field for soccer--the same one from the photo you were looking at when Mali first arrived. There are a few of Mali in front of the place she sang to a large audience for the first time. There’s a picture of the Christmas tree as well--Mali and Calum are in the photo adding decorations to it. There’s one of you, in the middle of Calum and Mali, arms wrapped around each other. You’re laughing because even standing you nearly stumble just trying to shift your weight a little, but the picture is perfect as the sun just starts to step a little behind you.

With the last photo printed, you look over the arrangement and give your approval. “Did you remember to grab our wrapping paper?”

“Shit,” Calum sighs. “I’ll run to the car and grab it.” You nod and head back downstairs just in time to help Joy.

It’s late before another opening arrives for you three to place the gift under the tree and during this time you also add Calum’s and Mali’s gift to the bunch. You managed to snag some cool t’s with Calum’s help for her. She eyed them in your shopping adventure and carted them around the store before ultimately deciding to put them back. Calum stayed behind to grab them off the rack while you went with her to the next store.

Over mugs of hot chocolate--though the Australian heat doesn’t warrant it-- you, Mali and Calum sit on the floor in front of the tree. “It’s been nice to outnumber him,” Mali laughs.

“I’m already outnumbered with you and Mum,” he retorts.

“Yeah, but it’s Mum. She counts but like not really. Now you’re outnumbered by someone in our age range.”

Calum shakes his head. “If you say so. I’m glad Mum and Dad weren’t too weird about it.”

You know he hasn’t brought anyone home in a long time. And part of it is probably just time, but another part is deliberate but you don’t know why. “I’m sure they were starting to think I wasn’t real,” you joke.

“Haha,” Calum gently shoves your legs. “You’re a fucking comedian.” You snicker and take another sip from your mug. The night almost doesn’t feel like it’s slipping away as Mali and Calum take turns on the guitar. You climbed up onto the sofa at some point during the night, asbentedmindly playing in Calum’s hair. But somewhere in it the strumming, sleeps pulls you under, you felt your eyes blinking close but weren’t able to recall when the final blink took you full under.

You find yourself startled awake to the sounds coming from the kitchen. Mali’s asleep on the couch, facing the opposite away of you. Calum’s reclined against the sofa between the both of you but still sitting on the floor. There’s a faint light coming from behind you and you squint against it to see the kitchen light’s on. You settle back against the arm of the couch and let yourself fall into sleep a second time.

When you wake the second time, it’s to gentle shakes and you’re not even sure you had fallen asleep again. Until you find yourself stretching again and blinking back the light of the living room. Calum’s slumped to the floor. “No, five more minutes.”

Joy chuckles. “It’s your presents you’ve gotten open.”

“Hmm, maybe I’m awake enough for presents.” Presents are slow to be handed out, mostly to the three of you still trying to wake up. But Mali gets the first tear into the wrapping paper and beams over at you spying the two shirts.

Joy loves the pillow from Calum and the jacket from Mali. Calum gets a few things, most of them necessities but the socks are cool enough to put on immediately. Mali’s content with the clothes she’s received and the necklace. Calum thought about wrapping your journal as a joke but he hands you a tiny stocking stuffed with some candies, a cool pen, and some knicks knacks he found during some of the shopping adventures. David’s tickled as he flips through the cocktail recipes.

“What is this?” Joy laughs pulling on the wooden and twine picture frame ad she’s handed it.

“For you,” you answer. “A collective effort between the three of us.”

“But originally their idea,” Calum tacks on.

Joy looks at the three of you, unsure of what trick might be pulled. She unveils the first corner and pauses. “Seriously, what is this?”

“Just keep going Mum,” Mali counters.

Joy continues tearing at the wrapping paper and she gasps for a moment noticing the photos hanging from the pins. “No way,” she laughs, lifting it up to take a closer look at the photos. “No way,” she whispers.

“The pictures can be switched out, so you can frame some, or just rotate it based on the season,” you explain.

The tears collecting in Joy’s eyes don’t get past you but they do hurt just a little. In a good way. You hadn’t seen a teary eyed smile like Joy’s in such a long time you almost forgot how good it felt, but how much it hurt too.

“You did all this for me?” she asks.

“I had help,” you return. “But I wanted to do something or give you something nice for hosting me the past two weeks and agreeing to take on an extra mouth to feed. It’s a thank you.”

She gives you another one of those hugs that squeeze more than they should, more than thought possibly. You squeeze in return and though you feel a couple tears slip down your cheek, you aren’t so afraid of the emotion. It’s something like loved, maybe it’s understood. Quite possibly it’s just the feeling of being embraced without judgement or restriction. You’re not really sure, but you do know you like it.

“Thank you,” Joy whispers while still hugging you. She makes space for the frame almost immediately though it takes a little rearranging of the living room but she finds the space. You’re sucking on a piece of candy, looking down at your phone. You know your mother is still living in Christmas Eve and the only message she’s gotten from you are about you being safe and okay.

I would send this as an actual letter, but I worry from Australia to home would take too much time. So I guess this works as next best. I can only hope you understand.

The easy things: Australia’s been fun. Haven’t run into a spider as big as my head just yet but there’s still plenty of time. Calum’s family has been amazing. I helped with Christmas decorations. Joy and I are cooking buddies. If I never had to leave, I probably wouldn’t.

And on and on you go about the tails of this particular vacation before getting to the hard stuff, how it’s hard sometimes to be home because home feels empty and too far away and how it’s hard sometimes to feel like you fit in the puzzle of it all. You tell her how hurt you are seeing how her side paid the death of your father dust. How nothing’s felt right once and you don’t know what caused it. You don’t know how it started but all you do know is that when dad was around, when you and him had those quiet moments it was closest to right you had every experience until now--sitting in your friend’s childhood home in a whole different country, more than half the day ahead of your own family and watching someone else’s world that you know you’re not really apart of but somehow you fit even as a stranger.

There’s that nagging voice in the back of your head that tells you this could all go to shit. Your mother could read all this and blow her top. But at least she would blow her top knowing the truth and the whole truth at that--that you love your family for being your family but recognizing the detriment happening.

I need you to know Mom. Because Dad didn’t. Or maybe he did, but I know I wasn’t the one that told him. So I am telling you. You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to like any of this and I’m not asking you or telling you you have to. But you have to know the truth and I have to tell you.

Before I go, there’s a present for you. Hidden in the top box of Dad’s stuff in your closet. It’s only tiny pieces of me and him, of us, but I hope you enjoy it. I hope it provides comfort.

While you’re not the most crafty, you know your way around a sewing machine. You didn't keep nearly as many t-shirts from family vacations as you would’ve liked to, hanks to a couple moves. But you kept enough and you snagged a few of your dad’s t-shirts and some of his old flannels too. All together it made a decent sized blanket--it could’ve been larger but there were a few failed starts before you got the true hang of it.

You’re not sure the whole message will send correctly and you think maybe it should’ve been an email, but that feels even less personal. So you watch the message lift up, hover for just a moment before it settles down and just beneath it, Delivered, pops up. Immediately, you place your phone face down. A watched pot never boiled and a watched text is never actually read.

“Calum!” Mali laughs. Just behind you they go barreling past, through the living room and he tries to make an escape up the steps but she manages to lunge fast enough to take hold of the back of his t-shirt. “Drop the cookies and no one has to get hurt.”

“Never!” he cries in return. His attempts are half hearted and you can only giggle watching them. That in turn earns you target as a potential accomplice and he calls out to you to get you to take the cookies and make an escape.

You walk over, take the packet of cookies. They’re decorated for Christmas and you decide take one off the top is fair pay for whatever mess you’re stepping into. After your take the first bite of your cookie, you hand the packet over to Mali who happily release Calum to snag a couple. “Traitor,” Calum returns, but takes another cookie too.

“I got my pay,” you laugh, polishing off the one cookie in your hand.

David enters then, taking another cookie too. “I got mine too,” he laughs before disappearing again back down the hallway. There are a few things around the house he needed to repair and Calum had been helping him though you suspect more than helping, Calum was sneaking cookies and trying to hide them from Mali. You offered to help too, but David insisted that you actually take a rest at least once during this time away.

You manage to catch the buzz over all the laughter. You don’t think your mother could’ve responded that fast. It’s not possible. But you slip away from the group and grab your phone from the couch cushions. Your heart hammers against your ribs, you can feel the vein in your neck throbbing.

Thank you for the blanket. It’s quite lovely. Glad you’re enjoying Australia. I don’t know if I can say sorry and have it mean much. But in turn, thank you for telling me the truth. Somehow you expected this to be much more emotional, much more earth shattering. But tides don’t change in the blink of an eye and cities don’t build themselves in a day.

“We should have a board game night,” Mali suggests from behind you. “Dunno know. Not much will be open up for long.”

“I’ll kick your ass in Scrabble,” Calum returns, “Anytime.”

And just behind is all you’ve ever really wanted. But just in front of you is all you’ve ever had, your mother and the distance. Maybe it’s not a matter of what you deserve or what is actually yours by blood. Maybe it’s just time to admit that family is also chosen. And you did all you could with your mother. You told her the truth.

A tear splashes onto your screen and you wipe at your eyes quickly. When had those formed? They didn’t even sting that time or maybe they did and you just hadn’t felt it. You’re not sure. Her message doesn’t warrant a response. Though you do imagine for a moment, her curled up on the couch, your blanket across her lap as she snacks on pistachios and the fireplace blazes next to her. The TV is playing Polar Express, her favorite Christmas film. And if the scene is sad, your mother is sad. And if the scene is happy, your mother is happy. And you like it better that she is tethered to the film’s emotions rather than anything going on outside of it.

“You down for a board game night? If not, we can find something else.” Calum’s voice is close and you can feel just how close is he off to the side of you.

“I’m down for a board game night,” you nod. Your voice quivers just a little. Crying is exhausting and you’d wish you had nothing left, but there is always the dregs left. Just enough to make your cheeks wet.

“You good? What’s up?”

“Told my mom,” you answer truthfully.

He figures it didn’t go super well given your silence. “We can watch movies in my room then.”

“She didn’t threaten to blow up the country so I think we’re good,” you continue on. “But she loves her Christmas present. So I’ll take it as a win.”

“It’s the small victories.”

You nod, looking at the photos hanging right next to the Christmas tree. “Like kicking your ass in Scrabble,” you laugh. “I’m on Mali’s team.”

“Fighting words, those are fighting words. I brought you out here and you already turned over my cookie stash. Now you’re going against me in Scrabble! Really?”

“I’ve chosen you over and over,” you admit quietly. You’ve chosen him as a friend, and confidante and you appreciate him for being there. But you don’t say all that, instead you counter with, “But I think sometimes I should kick your ass in a game of Scrabble or too.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he returns with a laugh.

“I am,” you state simply. “I am lucky.”

287 notes · View notes

loki-hargreeves · 3 years

Text

Loki x Reader - The Ghost of You

Warnings: death, mentions of blood, angst, ghost stuff

Word Count: 2,7K

Summary: Loki has been miserable since you passed away. You can see him at all time, but he can’t see or hear you. Nevertheless, you try to reach out to him from the other side, hoping one day he can notice you again. He speaks to you, hoping you’re there when he needs you the most.

Author’s Note: This one is for all the angst junkies out there! 💚 Honestly, this was inspired a lot by TUA. But the idea came to me when I was listening to ‘the lonely’ by Christina Perri.

YOUR POV

Death had come to you so incredibly fast.

One moment you had been standing by Loki’s side in battle, the next you were not.

The first thing you remembered was the light. Nothing you had ever seen before compared to the brightness that had forced you to shut your eyes. It felt like it had swallowed you whole, ripped you out of your body and then everything went numb. For a while, nothing mattered. The blood in your veins stilled, the noises around you disappeared and you didn’t even breathe. The enemies disappeared from around you. For a moment, you felt safe.

Loki!

You remembered him, and all the feelings came crashing back to your heart. The pain, the worry, the love, everything.

When the light faded away from your surroundings, you were back at the battle scene. The numerous enemies were slain and it was quiet. The silence and the gnarly smell of blood lingering in the air was eerie. It made your guts twist in an odd way.

There you were, in Loki’s arms. But you were also standing right there only a few feet away.

Loki knelt on the frozen ground with your body in his trembling arms. The life had vanished from your eyes, leaving them cold and empty, staring into the sky. For a while, you stood there still. Shock turned you into stone. Despite not having a physical body, you felt like you couldn’t move at all.

How was Loki holding your bloody corpse, crying his eyes out as his brother and friends watched if you were right there?

“Loki?” You called out his name, surprised you found your voice. It felt like you had tears in your throat, sobs trying to rip away from you, but it didn’t sound it. Your voice was light, it echoed.

No one heard you.

It took all the courage you had in your body to walk closer, and closer, and closer. Suddenly, you fell on your knees, right in front of Loki. He was looking at you, the wrong you. The pain on his face broke your heart. He looked terrified in a way you had never seen him before. His usually so graceful hands held onto your body tightly, turning his knuckles white and he was covered in blood; your blood.

“Loki!” You screamed at him, hoping that he’d snap out of it.

Yet it seemed like you weren’t even there.

Thor put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. Even the god of thunder had tears in his eyes. “Loki, stop,” Thor told him sadly.

It made Loki snap his head aggressively. He looked at Thor with rage in his teary eyes.

“Stop? You’re telling me to stop! She could die and it’s all on us!” Loki shrieked loudly, his voice betraying him as fresh tears rolled down his face.

Sif and Fandral shared concerned glances. They didn’t dare say anything. Even they were upset by this tragedy, but no one wanted to say it out loud yet.

Thor looked like he regretted what he said next, “She’s gone, brother.”

Shivers ran down your spine, which felt like daggers, sinking into your flesh and bone. You felt sick, but nothing happened. You just stared at your corpse in horror, not being able to think of anything else anymore.

You were dead.

That’s why they looked right through you.

Loki wanted to get up, to slap some sense into Thor’s thick skull. Another part of him wanted to keep using his healing magic on your wounds, to revive you and see life in your eyes again. Although Loki didn’t want to accept the truth, he wasn’t a fool.

As he looked at your bloody face, held it and felt the warmth beneath your skin fade away from under his touch, he knew it.

You were gone, ripped away from life too soon.

But you weren’t as far away as he feared.

“Loki,” You cried now, pleading to the gods in Valhalla that they would make that nightmare stop. This couldn’t be real!

Why were you not with your forefathers and mothers? Why were you stuck watching the gruesome reality before your eyes? This wasn’t supposed to happen!

With shaking hands, you tried to touch your body. It was far fetched, but you thought that maybe, just maybe you could return into it. That hope was crushed when nothing really happened. Your hand went right through your body, and you couldn’t even feel anything. At that moment, you noticed you couldn’t feel anything else either. Not the icy ground beneath your knees, nor the wounds that had caused your early demise. It was like you didn’t even exist.

You were a ghost.

For some reason, your soul didn’t leave Loki’s side. After your funeral, your body had been burned. Odin himself had held a speech since you had been his son’s wife. He, like everyone else, assumed you had gone to Valhalla. You hadn’t, which you couldn’t understand why. What had you done to deserve such a cruel fate? You were stuck watching how everyone you ever cared about mourned you when you were right by their side. The worst part was when they didn’t hear you, nor react to your touch. Would it be like this forever?

Seeing Loki was the hardest part. If you tried to go too far away, it seemed like the world stopped. An invisible wall kept you from walking too far away, which meant you were always around him. You were always there to see him cry himself to sleep as he missed you. It was like torture.

Time passed slowly. Every minute of your existence was agony, and it was no other for Loki. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the nights were getting longer and colder.

Thor was being prepared for his new role as king. Although he had yet to be crowned, be certainly behaved like it had already happened, and it didn’t ease Loki’s suffering at all. You began to notice how bitter he had grown - understandably so. Everyone overlooked him completely, but you, which he didn’t know of. To Loki, it seemed like he was all alone. He felt cursed.

When Thor’s coronation was ruined, he had dragged himself and his friends to Jotunheim, you too unbeknownst to him.

It had been scary, to say the least. Seeing them all in battle when you couldn’t help them. Jotunheim was dark and it looked a wreck. It was evidence of something terrible that had happened there before. The frost giants didn’t look pleased to see the Asgardians. Loki looked troubled when Thor started a fight. He thought of you. Last time he had fought, you died.

It took a turn to the worse when a Jotun grabbed his wrist. Instead of getting a nasty frostbite, Loki had watched his hand turn blue just like a frost giant’s. It was like a punch in the gut for him. How was that possible?

Everything that happened next was all a chaotic mess. Odin had shown up to bring them back home. Thor had been banished to Midgard and everyone turned against Loki.

Finally, there was some silence.

Loki was in his quarters that not too long he had shared with you. It was dark and he hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, or set fire to the fireplace. He enjoyed the soft moonlight that washed the space blue. Despite how much time had passed, the room still smelled sweet like you.

“I wish you were still here,” Loki spoke to you, not expecting to be heard.

“I’m right here by your side,” You answered, although he couldn’t hear you. The two of you sat on your bed together, but it only sunk underneath his weight. You were only a sentient being in thin air with an illusion of a body. Nevertheless, you felt real with the race of your heart and the pain that crushed you every day.

Loki began to tear up as he thought of everything that had happened since he lost you. It felt like he too was stuck in a nightmare that had been forged in Hell itself.

You tried to hold his hand like you always did before when you comforted him. Your touch was nonexistent. Reaching out to him was something you still did. The thought of not trying to hold him was harsh.

Oh, how you wished you could see his face just once more, and he could look right back at you. Just once, so you could say goodbye and let him know you were there. That you could say that everything would be alright.

Loki stood up all of a sudden, walking closer to the window so he could look at the view. At night, Asgard looked so calm. He knew better than that. Loki wondered how much of it was all built on lies.

“I don’t know what to do,” Loki’s lips were quivering now. He thought he was all alone, yet he struggled to display the feelings that were tormenting him. “You’re gone, Thor is gone - I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Loki turned around as if he expected you to be right there. When he didn’t see a familiar face, his heart sunk to his stomach. “I don’t know what to do. It would be so much easier if you were here.”

Tears were rolling down his face now, but he kept his composure - for now. You could only watch as he tried to choke his sobs that were begging to be cried out loud. Trying to drown that was agonizing to him, but Loki didn’t want to feel weak.

There was a burning desire within you to take care of Loki. You loved him to death, and beyond. You had always loved him and not being able to make sure he was alright was awful. It didn’t mean you would stop trying. For as long as you were chained together side by side, you would try. One day, it could work.

“It’s going to be just fine, Loki,” You wished deeply for it to be true. Surely, there would be light at the end of the tunnel. At least for him. Loki had so much life ahead of him.

You stood right in front of him now, eyes never leaving his. Sometimes you tried to stand in a way that it seemed like he was looking into your eyes, just to feel something again.

“I just wish that you knew how sorry I am,” Loki tilted his head, breaking the illusion of it all being real when he no longer faced you. “What am I doing, mumbling by myself?” He chuckled sadly, feeling like he was losing it. Honestly, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do anymore. Was it that crazy to speak to nothing, pretending that you were still there?

Watching him like that was incredibly difficult. He was suffering all alone and no one was there to hold him or guide him through it all. Loki thought he was losing it, but little did he know you heard every word he said. You wanted to scream the words at him, even when it felt like buckets of ice water in your lungs, burning you. You were so loud, but he didn’t notice. Surely, you could’ve shrieked right into his ears without getting a reaction.

“If you’re here, my love,” He choked on his words. Loki had to be quiet so he wouldn’t lose the grip he had on himself. His hand was slipping as more tears decorated his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” You wanted to reassure him. Loki couldn’t blame himself for your death. It had been a tragic battle death. It happened! But it was out of his control.

“Loki,” You cried his name now, feeling awful as you could just watch him break down. “You can’t blame yourself!”

Loki’s legs betrayed him and he had to sit down on the hard floor. His hands tangled in his dark locks and he closed his eyes, trying to stay calm. It felt like his entire world was spinning around him. He missed you so much that it made him sick to his stomach.

When you sat down beside him again, you wrapped your arms around his shaking body. Please don’t blame yourself, you thought. It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry,” Loki repeated his apology.

His words felt like knives in your heart. There was nothing you could’ve done to change his mind about it. You could only hold him and hope that miraculously it would make him feel better.

For a moment, there was silence. Except for Loki’s sniffles and deep breaths, it was almost peaceful. When you were quiet, it was easier to pretend you were a normal couple again. You were there together, simply enjoying each others’ presences. There wasn’t a dimension separating your souls.

“I need to go down there,” Loki broke the silence. How much time had passed?

“What?” You instinctively asked him.

“The ice casket,” Loki thought out loud. He knew that it was the source of the Jotuns power. If he held it, would his skin turn blue again? Did the frost giant curse him, or were there deep secrets that were now coming to light? Although he was petrified, he knew he had to find out the truth. Soon, not quite yet. His eyes were glossy and red from crying, and for whatever reason, he felt comfortable on the floor. Perhaps he was picturing it, but he felt like he was close to you.

Loki tilted his head, looking to his left where you sat. “I can’t stop talking to you, Y/N. Sometimes it feels like you’re still here,” He admitted quietly. Speaking was hard for him. You could tell when fresh tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Discussing things made everything real.

“I’ve never left,” You whispered sadly.

Of course he didn’t know that, but it was easy to pretend. To pretend his life wasn’t falling apart, like you were safe and sound.

“I love you,” Loki admitted after a while. It had been a long time since he had said it. The last time he could bring himself to say that was on your funeral day, when he watched your body turn to glimmers of magic. He loved you with all his heart and it would never change.

Those three words were bittersweet. They made you feel cherished and happy, but they were also a reminder that you were both stuck in a cruel reality, forced to miss each other when you were so close.

“I love you too,” You whispered gently. Would he ever be able to hear you again? Was there magic he could learn? You couldn’t help but wonder. For now, it seemed hopeless.

You rested your head at the top of his shoulder, feeling like you were crying but there was no way to tell when you had no physical tears to shred. There was only heartache and misery.

The moment you two unknowingly shared ended too soon. Just as the silence grew comfortable again, Loki wiped his face and stood up. He hesitated before walking to the door.

“I have to do this,” He made up his mind. Nothing could stop him now, Loki had to find out the truth. Loki didn’t consider himself a hero as he had failed to save you. Even if he was the monster parents told their children about at night, would it really matter? Loki didn’t think so anymore. You weren’t there to witness him like that, he thought.

Just like that, he opened the door, making his way to Odin’s vault to dig deeper into his past. You were right there with him, with every step of the way.

And you couldn’t do anything at all to help him. Not even when he turned to his true self and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Not even when Odin found him like that and instead of being a comforting father, he told Loki the truth in the worst way. Just as Loki learned he had been taken as a child, that Laufey was his true father, Odin fell into Odinsleep, abandoning Loki.

Once again, Loki was all alone with the weight of the nine realms on his shoulders.

You were just a ghost. To watch Loki crumble to pieces was worse than death itself.

A part of you couldn’t help but wonder, was this what Hell was like?

A/N: It feels like forever since I’ve written Loki angst. I hope you liked it! If you did, I would love to hear your feedback 🥺

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