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reverieblondie · 9 months

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Clumsy Kitty

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Blackcat Fem!!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Some Plot, Blowjob, Slight hair pulling, Teasing, Unprotected Penetrative Sex.

Summary: You became a thief to help you get over your mundane life. Turns out being a big time thief is not so easy…especially when you have a grumpy spider-man always throwing you off your game, if only there was a way to get back at him.

Part 2

A/N: I really love the idea of a clumsy Black Cat interacting with Miguel. The thought plagues my brain! I hope you all enjoy it! I have a lot more fics in the works so please look out for them!

Word count: 5,637 (edited to the best of my ability, if you have any tips on editing please share with me!)

“You have gotta be kidding me…”

Groaning as you hang from the ceiling you try to break out of the cords you are tangled in. Well, this is embarrassing, Black Cat tangled in cords suspended in the air in one of the many labs in Alchemax. Yep, this is just the cherry on top of your little escapades.

Stealing things and breaking into places became a recent hobby of yours. Tired of your mundane life, you wanted excitement, you wanted the rush of doing something bad, So what do you do? You become a thief of course! Was this the most rational way to solve your boredom? No, but it's not like you were hurting anyone with stealing, you were just scratching that bad girl itch by taking things that didn't belong to you and breaking into places that seemed impossible to enter, you loved the rush and high your actions would give you, it was downright addicting.

Though there's only one thing wrong with your new life of thieving, it turns out you are really, not the best at it. Sure, there were a few times you were able to make it out with the goods you wanted. But you were usually not successful in your adventures in Nueva York, and it was all thanks to one blue and red-clad hero, Spider-man.

Spider-man always seemed to show up and it would cause you to spiral out of control. Whether it was his intimidating figure or that gruff voice, his presence always turned your brain fuzzy and caused your thighs to clench. It couldn't be helped, he was a magnet and you were helpless to his pull.

Your first ever encounter with the hero you would remember forever. It was one of the first high-profile places you had decided to break into. It was a museum that was housing a very famous jewel for an exhibit, and you just knew you needed to get your hands on it. So dawning your iconic catsuit you made your way to the museum. Breaking in and grabbing the jewel seemed to go off without a hitch, however, you must have hit an alarm somewhere because the Public Eye could be heard in the distance.

Scrambling to the roof you stopped dead in your tracks, there he stood. Having seen pictures before you instantly recognized the icon in front of you, a dark cobalt blue suit with glowing red accents. Impossibly broad shoulders, towering height, and muscles that bulged from his suit leaving little to the imagination. Your mind felt like it blue screened, as you stared at him. How did he get here so quickly? Why is he so massive? Is he going to spank you? Wait what? Scratch that!

You two just stood and studied each other for a moment, the tension high, your nerves going haywire being in his presence, you couldn't help the rush of heat dropping to your lower stomach. Does he realize how imposing he is? And why was he turning you on so much? Is it the thrill of stealing or is it just him? Your mind was racing, and he just stared at you. It seemed like he was studying you. Though you couldn't read any expression from that damn mask of his you suddenly had the urge to rip off his face to reveal what you could only assume was a dreamy man. Wait, why are you acting so thirsty? He's here to stop you, not to ravish you! You're a bad girl, he's a good guy, take a mental image of him for a later daydream and get out of here! Then a commanding voice grips you and makes you snap to the present.

“Hand that over, Now!”

The simple demand rolled from his tongue making your brain fuzzy and limbs turning to jelly. The familiar rush of heat dropping to your stomach turning into a coil. The mix in your stomach, a storm of nerves and arousal. Feeling your breath hitch you just stared blankly at the hero.

He just spoke to you! Say something, do something!

Standing dumbfounded for a moment you begin to walk to him slowly. He teased from your approach getting ready to defend himself, however he didn't need to. Before he could even comprehend what was happening you placed the jewel in his hand. Staring at him with stars in your eyes as you just backed away. You tried to speak, but it only came out a subtle whine as you turned to run off. A tilt of his head said it all to show his confusion about your silent surrender, he didn't even chase you down when you escaped, most villains put up a fight and you just gave in to his demand? That was a change of pace.

Getting back home you were pacing around your room kicking yourself. That was so lame! You could have said something! Gave him a fight! Flirted a little! Made an impression! Oh wait you did, as the worst thief ever! Handing over the loot as soon as he demands! What kind of thief does that?

Plopping down on your bed you throw your head into your hands feeling the embarrassment still aching within you. Hopefully, next time if you run into the hero you will handle yourself like a proper theif and not whatever the hell that was!

----

Finally, your second chance has come! And things were going much better than the first encounter. What did you steal this time? Some important-looking technology from some important-looking building, honestly, you didn't think that what you were taking would be all that missed, but here you are getting chased by your new favorite hero. After your first meeting, you had done some research into Spiderman and you came out of it with a bit of a crush. Was it taboo to have a crush on a hero when you were participating in bad behavior? Yes, but he was just too amazing to ignore.

Jumping rooftop to rooftop using your grappling claws to help you swing and climb. It had taken you days of practice to make it look effortless. He on the other hand climbed and swung using his sharp talons and neon red webs that glowed oh so gorgeous in the night, you just assumed that the actions must have always come so easy to him.

“Get back here now cat!”

That same rough voice yelling out towards you just makes you want to purr, maybe your persona was getting to you but you didn't care. You just wanted him to yell and bully you and you were not going to apologize for that. Have you been fantasizing a bit about the spider hero? Yes, but all the fanfiction you had stumbled on and read during your research did not help your case. Some of these writers come up with the tastiest scenarios.

“No can do spidy! you have to catch me first!”

Finally getting the flirty banter down you were turning to give him a cheeky wink, an action you were sure would make his head spin but, devastation accords. Right in the middle of your turn, that you had rehearsed in your mind, you clumsily tripped over your own feet and landed straight to the ground, right in front of Spider-Man. You're supposed to be agile like a cat, not fumbling like a fool!

Spider-man slows his pursuit from a sprint to a jog to a walk then standing above you looking down at you. He studies you for a moment placing his large hands on his tapered waist, you feel like you could cry, you just wish a portal to another dimension would swallow you up but you were not so lucky. He crotches down, not seeing you as a threat at all, scooping up the tech then swings away back to where you stole them. Great, he didn't even speak to you or try to apprehend you after you fell. This is truly the worst moment of your life. You gathered yourself off the floor and sulked away back home, trying to put your pride back together.

----

Now you are hanging from the ceiling in some dingy lab, helplessly tangled. This was not helping your confidence whatsoever. The goal was to steal some stuff to improve your tools and suit, but no, you get tangled in some random cords! Unbelievable, This can't get worse. Then you spot him climbing through the side window and walking towards you, you stand corrected, this did get worse. Can't catch a break with this guy!

Stopping right in front of you, face to face with him you could better see the subtle pixelating glow of his suit and the intoxicating smell of his natural musk.

“What are you doing?” he spoke slight confusion in his serious voice

“Oh you know, hanging around” You chuckle at your cheesy joke but he just remains stoic.

“You're really bad at this” he speaks frankly before quickly popping out his talons and swiftly cutting you free.

You crash to the floor before you quickly spring back up facing him dusting yourself off.

“What do you mean?” you quickly quip back

“I mean you're really bad at the whole stealing thing” he motions his finger in a circle in the air.

“I think I'm just inexperienced, give me a few more chances and you will see” You start following him as he starts moving to leave, forgetting about even sealing anything, you're just excited to have a dialog with him.

“You're lucky I don't throw your clumsy ass in jail.”

“Why don't you then?”

“Because you're not a threat to anyone but yourself” he whips around and pokes his finger out to you. This sudden confession takes you aback for a moment.

“What? I am a threat! Look at these claws!” you pop out your mechanical claws trying to show him how dangerous you are, he turns and looks at your hand unimpressed you assume before sighing and turning away.

Making his way out of the window you clumsily follow behind him. The hero makes his way to the roof of the building, scaling the sides with little effort. It takes you a bit more effort to complete the climb following him. Note to self-practice climbing to build endurance.

Thoughts swirling in your mind, it's odd to be speaking to him so casually, you're a villain, albeit a not-very-good one but you still are one. You two should be fighting or chasing each other. Though you should probably be thankful you are not fighting the guy who was way more skilled and massive. You were not a good fighter, but it was irritating that he didn't even see you as a threat, you could be a threat! Not that you wanted to be but who the hell does he think he is to undermine you to your face?

Reaching the rooftop he stands walking away from you as you fumble behind him trying to catch up. He looks back at you as you try to catch your breath, though you can't see his face you can feel a scowling glare piercing through you.

“Go home kitty, I have more important matters to deal with than play with you”

With that, he shoots his blazing red web in the air and swings away. Fantastic, he sees you as nothing more than just some fool to not take seriously.

Standing there an ache fills your chest, every time he was around you looked like an idiot, clumsy and brain-fuzzed with inappropriate thoughts of things he could do to you but you didn't expect him to undermine you so bluntly. It was a major blow to your bad girl ego.

Clenching your fist into tight balls you feel your frustration hitting its peak. Yelling out to him in desperation you shout to his fading figure.

“You know what spiderman? You better watch out! I might just surprise you!”

----

Okay yes, what you were doing could be classified as stalking, but you were burning to get back at Spider-Man. He had seen you look like a fool three times too many, so it was now time to make him eat his words. But how do you get back at a superhero? Well, your idea is: You find his secret hideaway, steal his stuff and leave him a note telling him how he shouldn’t be so cocky. Who could see you as some clumsy thief after that?

The plan was in full effect: you had found him cleaning up the streets of Nueva York, beating up a gang blue and bloody. Watching him work was pretty thrilling, he moved with such force and skill. He was something to reckon with, for a moment you find yourself thinking you might rethink your plan, but you quickly shake the idea away. Spider-man was going to be knocked down a peg by you, this was definitely going to change how he sees you.

What he had said had stirred something in you that you just couldn't ignore, it was almost like you wanted to impress him. To get his attention and see you more than just some clumsy thief, who knows maybe he would be into it? Good girls like bad boys apparently, do good guys like bad girls? Well, you hope so.

After he finished his fight with the gang he started swinging through the city. You made sure to keep your distance so he wouldn't catch you as you kept a watchful eye out for those iconic glowing webs. After a while, you lost him in the cleaner division of the city. You looked around at the pristine buildings. Most of them were brand new, they were always developing and getting rid of buildings so everything looked unfamiliar to you even though you have lived in Nueva York all your life.

Looking around one building caught your eye, it was tall but wasn't the tallest in the city and didn't seem to have any windows besides some at the very top. There was something about this building that you couldn't shake. Call it a hunch or just natural intuition but you knew this building was hiding something, hopefully, it was hiding Spider-Man's secret hideout. Approaching the building you looked to see if it housed a company of some sort but you didn't see anything. -suspicious.

Needing to find a way inside, you scope out the buildings outside. The only possible opening you saw for yourself was a window and it was quite the climb to reach it. It would be worth it though, if this was really where Spider-Man was hiding, he would for sure be surprised by this sudden intrusion to his private space. The ultimate fantasy was you breaking in stealing some stuff then leaving him a cheeky note, he would be so impressed by your skill he would hunt you down and beg you to join him to fight crime. Then he would make sweet love to you, twisting you and bending around in many positions making you cum over and over again with him.

Squealing in excitement as you climb you almost fall having to adjust your grip. Maybe it would be better if you kept the fantasies at bay for now. The climb felt like it lasted forever, huffing and pushing through your exhaustion, your fantasy driving you to your goal. Popping your head up to look through the window, you are met with your reflection, dammit. Well, time for the tried and true method, breaking and entering!

Unsheathing one of your sharp claws you start cutting through the glass. You struggle to cut a hole large enough for you to crawl through, it's rigged and wavy on the sides, truly unprofessional looking for a thief but whatever. Pushing the glass slightly it doesn't budge. Applying more force and using your body weight you finally get through the glass with a crash. Wincing you hope the sound wasn't too loud to make anyone notice, as you stand, brushing yourself off, you finally look around and are frozen by what you see.

People in costumes all over the place have their eyes glued to you, some wear masks and some do not but there seems to be a theme to all of them, a spider theme. Your brows furrow, a costume party?

It's not until you see some of them swinging from webs and walking on the ceiling does it dawn on you that this isn't a party of normal people.

During your state of confusion, you spot him, your Spider-Man. He’s staring at you, his eye lenses raised in surprise. He seemed to have been talking to people before staring at your sudden intrusion. This wasn't your plan at all, but just go with it! Quickly finding your bearings you point to your Spider-Man face flushed but still determined.

“You have underestimated me Spider-Man! I found your little…Clubhouse?”

As you shout out to him he walks over to you staring intently, eye lenses furrowed. His approach makes your breath shake and speech clutter into a rambling mess.

“I'm…I'm not so clum-clumsy now huh…”

You finally stumble out as he now stands inches from you. Then your breathing stops as the mask that has been hiding his face disappears revealing his crimson eyes, perfectly high cheekbones and full lips. His ravenous hair slicked back, the rich color brown beautifully complemented his tanned skin. Shit, he’s even more gorgeous than in any kind of fantasy you could imagine.

He stares at you for a moment before he quickly grabs your arm and starts dragging you behind him. As you are tugged through you look at the spider people staring at you. Some would avert their gaze from you, while others just stared, you swore you could even hear some snickering and laughing at the scene.

“Poor thing, he's probably going to kill her”

“How did she find us?”

“Looks like Miguel has a pet cat now”

Listening to the muttering of the people your ears perk at the name, Miguel? Looking back up to Spider-Man dragging you along, his name must be Miguel then. You didn’t expect to find out his name and see his face so suddenly. But now you knew more about him, and it was exciting you.

Miguel continues to drag you through the massive building, not meeting your eye of course, you pass by many things in the building looking around in awe as your arm is held in his strong grip, almost certain that you will have bruises tomorrow.

Finally, after the walking and a quiet elevator ride you are in a dark cluttered room, a holo agent appears to welcome Miguel back, but he only responds with a gruff command of Do not disturb.

Releasing his death grip on you he turns to face you once more. His face alone sends butterflies in your stomach no high alert as he looks down at you. Scrunching his face before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes a deep breath before he starts pacing.

You watch as he paces around for a moment, muttering to himself as you just stare patiently. Your eyes take him in as you watch him move left and right left and right your head swiveling in tandem with his movements. Muscles under his tight suit seeming to get tighter as he paces. It was almost mouth watering.

“Miguel?” You say in a sweet question.

Turning his head to you instinctively from hearing his name, he winces when he realizes that you now know his identity, "What" he barks in your direction.

Trying to come across as unfazed by his annoyance you just chirp a “nothing” to the seething man. His eyes scan you for a moment up and down before returning to his pacing.

You go to say something else but he quickly holds his large hand up to you, effectively causing you to bite your bottom lip to silence yourself. Opening his crimson eyes again he stares at you, this must be the look he always gives you. Furrowed brows, one slightly raised. His full flips in a furrowed pout. Any moment he could either yell at you, grab your throat and slam you into a wall, or grab your face and kiss you passionately. The intensity of his stare has you fidgeting slightly picking at your figures, a bad habit that only occurs when you're nervous.

Full lips opening you hear him breathe out a question to you

“Why are you here gata?”

Skin tingling from his simple question it takes all the nerve you might have still had straight out of you.

“I wanted to surprise…”

“Surprise me? I am surprised actually, it's shocking you didn't break your neck climbing up the building?” he cuts you off irritatedly

“Well, I almost fell a few times…” you nervously laugh.

Staring at you he doesn't laugh at your quip. This was not your plan at all.

“Do you get off on being a shocking pain in my ass?”

Eyes widen at his question, you look to your feet, shit. This isn't how this is supposed to go. Sure you know you're a pain but you just wanted his attention. And yes, that sounds kinda of pathetic but, he is your crush as odd as it is.

Your breaking in and entering places started the rush for you, but getting to interact with Spider-Man made it all the more tantalizing. There is no way you can admit this to him though, especially now. He's irritated enough by you, plus he would most certainly reject you. Snapping his fingers at you causes you to look up at him.

“Tell me Cat”

Moving your eyes away from him, you feel less like a thief and more like an employee getting reprimanded by a supervisor. Miguel leans to meet your eyes. Noting your flushed features and rapid heartbeat, the realization hits him like a ton of bricks.

The feeling of fingers on your chin snaps you back from your inner spiraling. As you are now forced to look at Miguel, his breath fanning on your face from his proximity those crimson eyes boring into you.

“Are you trying to get my attention, kitty? Because you have it, now what?”

His smooth voice has your body flushing with a warm heat, ruining your panties in the process. Is this happening? Is he flirting? Is he into this? Into you?

“Whatever you want” You speak too quickly, wanting to punch yourself for sounding so desperate.

His thumb brushes against your lips making your knees weak and breathing to spot “Then get on your knees” his smooth voice commands.

Being all to eager you drop to your knees in an instant looking up meeting his red eyes pooling with hunger. He slowly slips his thumb in your mouth feeling your tongue and pressing down to release your drool.

“You know, you're not like others. They are not so eager for my attention,” he says with hooded eyes as you roll your tongue over his digit. You just nod, leaning in to grab his firm thighs running your hands up to palm his stranded cock you can feel as it grows and twitches in his suit.

“Just to warn you, once we start I won't be able to stop”

You just suck on him looking up at him to convey your response.

“Don't say I didn't warn you''

With that, he removes his thumb soaked from your drool, and his suit dissolves away. Watching his tanned skin be revealed to you from the dissolving light. His cock springing out towards your face.

crouching down towards you and grabs the back of your neck pulling you in for a rough kiss. keeping his intense eyes on you as you kiss him back in a fever. Pushing his tongue in your mouth he feels as you eagerly meet him with yours, desperate to taste him. Grabbing and pressing your hands to his solid chest to support yourself, slowly getting drunk from his kiss.

Miguel breaks the kiss standing up from you, pumping his massive cock, almost teasing you with its girth and length, taunting you to take all of him in.

Grasping onto him you feel the silkiness of his cock and the ridge of each vein. The slit of his cock pebbles with glistening precum as you keep pumping him with your hands, licking and tip to take in his tangy taste you are sure to get addicted to.

His large hand drifts to your cheek rubbing his thumb on your face.

“Look at you being a good girl, you ready to take it kitty?”

He takes his cock back into his other hand and slaps his tip to your lips. You instantly parted your lips, eyes completely glazed over in lust for him. He slowly slips his cock through your parted lips. The heat and girth make your mouth water as he pushes inch by inch into your wet walls. Whining at the intrusion in your mouth you use your tongue to rub against the thick bottom of his heavy member, enticing him to push in deeper. His cock twinges at your eager licking and he grabs a fist full of your hair as a warning.

“Breath through your nose” he demands

Before you know it you feel his hips buckling into you more, slipping himself deeper down your throat. Miguel was a big guy so of course he was down your throat causing you to gag and whine on him, he went to pull out to give you relief but you clung to his thighs not allowing him to leave you. Throwing his head back, a moan escapes him from your needy hold.

Lolling his head to the side as he starts to steadily pump his cock into your drooling mouth, he can't remember the last time he's seen such a beautiful sight. Doe eyes glazed over looking up at him, face flushed, tears streaming down from the constant gagging, cheeks sucked in, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth as your saliva drops from your chin to your clothed thighs in that black skin tight suit that he just wants to rip off you. Continuing his rutting into you he just smirks.

Swiftly he shethes himself fully in your mouth down your throat, your nose pressed to his trimmed hairs. Petting your head keeping himself in as you adjust to accommodate him he breathlessly gives you a command.

“Purr for me kitty, I want to feel how much you like it”

Without hesitation start to purr, the vibrations sending him over the edge as he starts thrusting in your eager mouth, bottoming out each time. Feeling you rocking, he looks down to see you rubbing your clothed cunt desperately on your hand.

“So needy gata”

cooing to you, as you just continue your pursuit on your hand, shame and embarrassment hit you for acting so desperate. But the pleasure of the sensation of your fucked throat and pressure on your clit has you rolling your eyes back in bliss. Sure, he can call you needy all he wants, but you don't care as you get close to your high.

Thrust becoming more sloppy and his moans starting to slip out in a consistent hum you know he's approaching his release. Swiping your tongue in a fever around him to bring him closer you tighten your grip on his thighs to continue your grinding. A throbbing of his cock and the quickening of his breath is your warning before he is releasing his thick cum down your throat, that you can't help but swallow down with an urgent fever. Quickly he slips out of you, making you cough at the sudden emptiness of your throat.

Coughing you didn't realize how much you were desperate for air during his throat fucking. Crawling away from him, not to run away but to get a break to catch your breath, you feel a quick swipe on your clothed pussy, then sudden cold air hitting it as all your arousal starts dripping down your puffy folds to the ground under you. You whine at the sudden exposure and before you can turn your head to see what's happening you feel Miguel's large hands on your hips pulling you close to him.

“Don't tell me you're done gata? We haven't even started” he taunts while swiping two of his long fingers around your folds.

Looking back at him you press your cunt to him whining for him to keep touching you, he hums in response.

“Good kitty”

He continues to brush your folds, teasing your swollen clit every so often with a rub or a flick to make sure you were soaked enough to take him. Pushing on your back to lower your chest to the ground keeping your hips raised in the air. He watches as your needy hole grips around nothing begging to be stuffed. Slapping the head of his cock to your slick folds, he makes you whine you jump forward and hum at the abuse.

“Oh? You're a sensitive one huh?”

One last slap echoes through the room with your moaning before slipping into your velvet walls causing your fingers to spread out and grip the floor as he pushes himself in keeping his large hand on your hips. Slowly rolling his hips into you, his massive cock splitting you open deliciously, the stretch making you moan out and arch further into him as he keeps his slow pace pushing himself deeper and deeper.

You're instantly coming undone on him, clamping down on him as you gasp from your release. The tightness causes him to bully into you harder still keeping his torturous slow pace. not even all the way in and your already creaming on his cock.

Your breath is completely knocked from you once he's bottomed out, he places his hand on your lower stomach, and he feels his hard cock bulging through you. He moans at the feeling, pressing harder and rubbing the tip through your soft skin, causing you to cry in pleasure and shudder at his rolling hand.

“Oh, you feel that don't you? Filling up that tight little pussy.” he leans over to your ear “Don't forget to breath kitty cat, I don't want you passing out”

Before you can quip back or ask what he means, he's slipping out of you to the tip then slamming back into you in and out in rapid succession, the air in your lungs getting banged out of you. Leaning over you again, he holds your head up by your chin. His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder and he breathes in your ear.

“Breath kitty, come on”

taking in deep breaths as your told he treats you by fucking you harder, completely rocking your body past what you though was your limits.

“That's my girl”

He continues his pace, sweat rolling down his tense muscles as he continues to fuck you relentlessly. You can't help but feel like he's trying to break you. Grabbing one of your outstretched arms he curls it so you're able to rub your clit.

“Touch yourself, I want to feel you cum on my cock again.” he pants in your ear.

Giving into his demands you rub quick circles on your spent clit, the coil in your stomach being rammed into by Miguel's brutal length. Your pussy starts to grip him harder, making him fuck into you faster than you thought you could even handle.

Knocking all air from you, your lungs are burning. It feels like you're running a marathon, sweat rolling down your body, the heat being trapped in your catsuit. Almost Like he can sense your body overheating Miguel rips your cat suit like it's made of paper. You moan at the sudden cooling of your wet skin. Kissing all over your bare back, Miguel's large hands grab onto your bouncing breast, causing your nipples to suddenly peak from his pinching and tugging.

“Come on kitty, cum for me,” he says breathlessly, gripping harder onto you.

“Miguel…” You start to moan, your cunt clenched around him, the echoing of wet squelching and skin slapping together egging you both on. Before you know it you're squirting on his hard length, screaming in pleasure then quickly in overstimulation as he doesn't let up, only pushing harder and harder. Your third orgasm hits you too fast and leaves you crying out as your brain completely shuts down to a white fog. The pain mixes into unbelievable pleasure.

Finally, you feel your insides heat up. Feeling Miguel's cold sweat dropping onto your back as he finally came again with a loud moan and shuddering of his muscular body. The heat of his hot seed paints your insides white, as his cool sweat drips down on you. The mix of hot and cold has you twitching underneath him as he slows his thrusting to a snail's pace. Your eager pussy milks him of all his hot load.

He finally pulls out of you after he is thoroughly drained. You feel the sticky mix of both your arousal leaking out to your thighs. Rolling to your back you press your fingers to your fucked hole in a vain attempt to keep the warmth in.

Miguel stands up and examines you, he chuckles to himself as he watches you try to keep his seed inside. Scooping you up in his arms he walks you to his office bathroom to clean you up. Exhausted, you rest your head on his warm chest, slowly catching your breath. Sure this wasn't your plan but you have a feeling that you have been successful in surprising him. As he carries you can't help yourself falling asleep in his arms.

----

“Miguel! What is everyone talking about saying you have a pet cat now?”

Peter walks into Miguel's office but promptly freezes when he sees you asleep on a couch wrapped up in a large blanket. Miguel turns from his screens to meet Peter's confused gaze. Miguel looks towards you with affection watching you blissfully sleep.

“Yeah, a stray followed me home. I think I’m going to keep her”

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bangtanfancamp · 4 years

Text

∴ summary: After spending a gloomy afternoon trying to get out of your own head alone , you finally seek out your boyfriend for help

∴ masterlist

∴ one shot

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

∴ word count: 2k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: soft angst, comfort, established relationship

∴ warnings: oc is struggling with something akin to depression, it’s alluded to but not explicitly stated

∴ author’s note: this is incredibly self indulgent and was written in one go. I’ll edit later. I’d rather have it here to share sooner in case anyone needs it as much as me.

─────────────────────

“Joonie, what are you doing? Are you busy?” Your voice comes out small as you peak around the corner into his office, sweater pawed knuckles sneaking around the edge of the door frame.

He doesn’t look up at first. Perhaps you really were too quiet. Or maybe he’s just that immersed in his book. It’s not a cover you’ve seen before so it very well may be the latter. You know how he is when he has a new thing to get lost in. Ever your astronaut adrift, exploring the moons just beyond whatever new world he’s found.

He looks so at home now. Cozy in his den of words and letters. Perfectly domestic amidst lofty thoughts and paragraphs. His skin is mostly bare today, his coordinated tank top and shorts exposing a golden expanse of toned arms, long legs . They’re folded up and crossed, a little boy lost in wonder as he sits on his futon.

His hair is a warm chestnut this week, fringe too long around the lashes but too short to pull back. The way it refuses to cooperate when he brushes it out of his eyes, trickling silkily, stubbornly back into place, exactly where it wants to be, makes you want to chuckle.

He still hasn’t noticed you’re there. Too far gone in whatever his newest philosophy is to notice the way you study the dip of his furrowed brow, how it juxtaposes against the relief of his shadowed dimples, smiling even as he frowns. He finds so much pleasure in being studious— just for fun. No matter how much concentration it takes. You’ve always admired that about him. Admired everything about him really.

Clearing your throat, though you hate to interrupt him, you try again.

“Joonie?”

Somehow it’s even quieter than before, and as he turns another reverent page, you know you’ll have to physically intervene to interrupt him. You sigh. You hate to break the spell. He loves days like this—with the rain trickling down the window’s glass casting shadows on his focused face— he’s so happy to read when it rains.

He leans forward then without looking up to take a sip of his Earl grey, bumbling when the steam unexpectedly fogs his glasses. He laughs at himself, folding his book so it splays across the seat to mark his place and removing his glasses. It’s the first time he’s looked up. He spots you then, his face splitting into the smoothest “there’s my girl” smile you’ve ever seen.

“Hey… how long have you been standing there?” His voices comes low, warm, soothes something in you that desperately needs rest.

“Long enough to see you blind yourself with tea, it seems.” You try to smile back, but it’s a weak, floppy thing. Your cheeks can’t seem to commit so it falls a bit too flat. His brows pinch when he sees it. Something’s amiss.

“Hey… are you okay?” His inscrutable eyes analyze you, and you let him. Too tired to resist or put up a fight.

“It’s not my day, joonie.” Your voice is pitiful, even to your own ears. You’d normally wince at sounding like this in front of anyone else. But honestly, it’s okay. It’s Namjoon you’re with. You don’t have to play games or hide things. Not here. Not with him.

“Yeah?” His eyes catch yours as his palms rub the tops of his thighs. It’s an invitation. You know the gesture by now.

“Yeah… again. There have been so many of these lately,” you say, crossing the room to him, his arms unfolding to welcome you into them. “They come too often and stay too long. They’re terrible house guests. I’m tired of them, joon. I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

You’re scooped against him now, head on the space between his neck and his chest, fingers twisted into his tank top, bum in his lap, knees tucked up til you’re as small as you can get. There’s a broad palm of his on your back, fingertips on his other hand traveling the length of your arm in tender caresses as his cheek rests atop your head.

“Maybe we should start charging them rent. I bet even they can’t afford to pay that in this economy.” He offers the idea solemnly, fully committed to carrying out the metaphor that your mental health really is just an unfortunate airbnb plagued with hideously mannered squatters.

“You know, I love that about you, Joon.”

“My inability to pay rent?”

You nuzzle a sappy no into the heat of his neck,” dummy, your very real ability to never minimize things that are hard to me.”

The dip of his chest as he exhales is oddly soothing. It makes you feel like you’re being rocked and god if you don’t need to be cradled right now. “Things have been really hard lately, haven’t they?” He wonders aloud.

“It isn’t just my perception?” You look up, eyes entirely too pitiful, too round to belong to a functioning adult. No, Namjoon’s heart goes soft as he realizes he’s looking at the eyes of a very scared four year old you. The haunted gaze of an innocent girl who never got told everything would be alright. Even without knowing any more than that, it makes him want to cry.

“No, my sweet girl, it’s not.” Closing his eyes, he presses somber lips to your forehead, scooping you close to shield you— from the world, from yourself, from all the insidious things that took root in you so long ago you’re not even sure how they got in. His wide hands grip you tighter, a feeble attempt to help hold you altogether.

It’s silent then. A few beats of quiet, only disrupted by the clumsy clatter of irreverent raindrops on glass. His caress stays steady against your soft sleeves, his languid fingers perpetually in motion as he attempts to soothe the wounds that sit just beneath your skin.

You look up at him again, unsure what you’ll find.

You almost cry when you see the gentleness in his eyes. No judgment anywhere within them. Just something kind that stretches into the lines his eyes carve as he smiles. How you itch to gently peel his horn rimmed glasses off the tip of his button nose and kiss it. Bless him.

God, you don’t know why he’s so nice to you, but you’re so glad that he is. The smile you give back to him is wobbly, trembly, poorly constructed— but so so sincere that it makes your sad eyes shine. He bumps your nose with his, burying himself against your forehead as you cocoon into him.

You want to ask him what he’s reading, listen intently to him as he tells you all about it, but you know you can’t. You can’t decipher anything today. It all feels too heavy. You can’t carry the weight of anything new with hands already full. At this point, you’ve lived in this soft hoodie of his , the one you stole after his tour two years back because it smelled like him, for the past 3 days. You don’t even have the energy to change. With that kind of retention rate, seems there’s no point in asking your brilliant professor to explain anything.

Still, it’s always so nice to hear his voice. Especially with your ear to his chest like this.

So you ask anyway.

“Will you read to me, Joonie? Life always feels better when you’re reading.” You press your face deep into the copper of his neck, an open mouthed kiss placed against his pulse.

“It’s all kind of theoretical,” he chuckles. He’s bashful. If holding you weren’t occupying his hands, you know they’d be nervously fiddling with the back of his neck. A nerdy boy with a too big brain hesitant to share his discoveries.

“Is it good though? You’ve already read Jung to me, and I stayed awake through that. I think I deserve more credit.” You poke his throat with your nose. You’re not genuinely affronted, it’s just nice to remind him you're competent too. Sometimes.

His sweet chuckle then is earthy and rich, all dark molasses. “True. You actually gave pretty good feedback for that too. Fine. Didn’t mean to underestimate you. Just… bear with me if it feels odd? I haven't read it before. I can’t vouch for it all yet.”

“Fine by me. I’m just here for the cuddles and my Kim Namjoon audiobook.”

He can feel your smile against his skin. It makes him press you just that extra little bit tighter against him, exhaling soft through his nose when he feels you return the gesture.

Scooping up his paperback, he adjusts his glasses where they’ve slipped down his nose, clearing his throat to project like the narrator he claims he’s not but loves to be. He’s quiet for a few more beats. You can hear pages rustling as you sink against his skin. You imagine he must be trying to find where he was when you interrupted, or perhaps searching for a passage that seems apropos. Which he chooses, you don’t know, but you can feel when he settles, just before his caramel voice sweetens the thin air of the room.

“It's the same with the wound in our hearts,” he begins. “ We need to give them our attention so that they can heal. Otherwise the wounds continue to cause us pain. Sometimes for a very long time. We're all going to get hurt. But here's the trick - they also serve an amazing purpose.

When our hearts are wounded that's when they open. We grow through pain. We grow through difficult situations. That's why you have to embrace each and every difficult thing in your life.”

You aren’t sure when your eyes opened, not sure when they began to glaze over or when you started to cry. But you did. And you are. The salty things dripping down against Namjoon’s silken skin. Your sweatered knuckles try to knock them away, but to no avail. Your cheeks are still a wet mess and now his collarbone is too.

“Joon, what is this? What are you reading?”

“Oh… um, it’s— terribly long title but— Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon's Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart. Isn't that a mouthful?” his laugh is self deprecating, small, but still the most beautiful sound.

God, you hate how sensitive and soft you are right now. You don’t want to be sitting here at 4pm in your boyfriend’s lap crying over a paragraph in a book you've never even heard of before, but here you are.

“ is that… what the whole book is about ?”

“You know, I don’t know. I haven’t read it all yet. Jackson recommended it, I’m just now getting to it. Why - do you not like it? I can put this down. Read you something else if this is too heavy. You always like the poetry. I can grab that one anthology you like.”

You can feel as he starts to shuffle beneath you, eager to track down new reading material for you, afraid he’s scared you off, when the fluttering weight of your palm tethers him to his spot.

“No, stay. Keep reading. I want to hear the rest.”

You can practically hear him smile. Relieved. Can feel his dimples manifest without even trying. He kisses your hair, tilts your chin up to kiss you too. The complexity of bergamot and black tea making his supple lips even more bewitching than normal. The window in the corner is cracked open, the humidity it leaks in making your skin sticky as you lean against him.

He’s lovely like this. The rain soaked air mixing with his natural scent, a broad hand on your chin, warm thumb beneath your lip as you mold pliant into his kiss. He ends it with a peck to your lips, a tap of his nose to your nose, before hoisting you so close against him you just may fuse together.

And he reads. He reads until he’s exhausted. Til the rain has stopped, and you’ve drifted to rest pressed against the skin of his chest.

He folds the book shut once your breathing has stilled, his thumb marking the page as he tips you both to lay down sideways. As he extends his pinprick tingling legs for the first time in ages, you hoist yourself around him in your sleep like a koala, and he chuckles. That’s usually his move.

He kisses your hair then, traipsing fingers tenderly through the escaped bits of it that brush across your cheeks. He wonders if you know how madly in love with you he is. How often he’s wondered what he’d do without you. Today, like most days lately, your light was dim, but still kelvins brighter than anyone else’s.

He sends a silent thank you to whatever deity arranged things in such a way that he can hold you to his chest like this as the daylight saving’s darkness floods his studio office. You seemed so sad today, but he knows it won’t last forever. It’ll pass. It always does. He’ll just hold you until it does. And then some.

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5

very pretty, very beautiful

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident

AN: WHOAH OKAY. So I’ve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, y’all. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Don’t be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 4 here)

“I think you’re very pretty.”

I think you’re very pretty?

Fuck. Shit.

“I-I-I mean,” Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, “You’re very, uh, very beautiful.” He says it because it’s true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. You’re more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, you’re gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, you’ve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. It’s overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how you’re looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.

Oh. That’s right, she’s high.

Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.

“Very beautiful?” It’s soft, hopeful.

He forces himself not to retract the statement (because it’s true) out of self-preservation.

“Very beautiful, kid.” He can say it without stuttering this time. It’s important that you believe him, and it’s equally important that this is as far as it goes.

You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.

“Thank you,” the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.

He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Can’t risk this, not with you, not with you.

“Your, um, your pajamas,” he points to the end of the bed where they’re sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.

Fucking hell.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

What kind of question is that? Do you not think you’re pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks you’re pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?

Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, it’d finally felt complete.

“Sorry, mama,” he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.

A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.

He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.

—

It’s 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then you’re letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.

You’re sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay — he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. It’s when you’re looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that he’s unsure.

He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. They’re wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. “It’s me, kid, it’s just me,” he intones, “It was just a dream, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then you’re launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.

“Breathe.” He sets an example with his own deep breaths.

It’s a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesn’t mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He feels you shake your head.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitate before you whisper, “Only if you stay.”

Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but they’ve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.

He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.

“What’s that look for?” he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Come here, please.”

He blinks at you for a second. That’s my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that he’s on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.

—

The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.

You’re not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. He’s been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like you’ve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.

“Hi—” the greeting dies in your throat when you see who’s standing there.

“Hi,” Annie says. She’s standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.

“What?” It’s a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesn’t harbor the animosity you would expect — you’re not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.

“I got your voicemail.”

You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief “hold these” before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.

She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like you’re crying, and slightly muffled.

“Annie, hi, um, I know it’s late but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, I just,” sniffle, “I know we’re not talking and I’m still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldn’t think of who else to call and long story short I think I’m in love with Levi and he might’ve just rejected me but I just couldn’t tell—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. “But why are you here?” You know why she’s here — Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if you’d been drunk and high and half asleep and you don’t really remember doing it.

“You called, here I am. That’s what best friends do.” Her tone is even.

“Not best friends who fuck their best friends’ boyfriends,” you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.

She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.

“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here now and there’s more to the story that you aren’t aware of.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. “I brought coffee and donuts. They’re jelly.”

Jelly donuts are your favorite.

You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.

“Fine.” You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. “Just let me get dressed.”

She follows you in, even though you don’t extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.

It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You don’t bother with a bra.

You knock lightly on Levi’s door and call through, “I’m going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.” You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” you turn and address Annie, who stands.

The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But there’s also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Eren’s jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.

The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.” You bite into the donut.

She sighs through her nose. “I know what you saw. We… we did kiss, but we didn’t do anything else. We never had sex.”

“Hmm.” A sip of coffee.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m guessing you didn’t exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t have time for his bullshit excuses.”

She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, “I know you don’t owe either of us anything, and this isn’t meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?”

You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit there’s a large part of you that’s been wondering at the why, even if you’ve refused to hear it.

“Okay. Tell me why.”

She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.

“I’ve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. We’ve always been this… this odd group. You wouldn’t think we were close if you didn’t know us. But it wasn’t always just us.” She pauses, looking distant. “Do you know Porco Galliard?”

Galliard… “He’s a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and we’d all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Denny’s for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and it’d been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was… I hadn’t…” She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. “It was horrible.”

Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You don’t know what you’d expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasn’t this. It wasn’t Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.

“Hey,” you start, voice gentler than it’s been all day. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, just... give me a second,” she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking back out across the water.

“It, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. That’s why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We don’t have forever. And Bertl, he…” she smiles, watery and reminiscent. “When he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and… well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That’s a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, you’d never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. He’d always seemed so… sunshiney. You clearly hadn’t given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.

Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where you’ve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.

“And then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?” You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. “I thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe we’d be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.”

She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.

“He’s so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didn’t know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldn’t go through you. I don’t… I didn’t know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadn’t seen him physically for a month. It hurt.”

She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything she’s saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though there’s nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.

“So I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didn’t know what I’d say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasn’t listening to me, so I just… kissed him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.

“So, long story short,” her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, “I fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldn’t use my words.” She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. “So, um. Yeah, that’s the why, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just… I needed you to know. It wasn’t like, this elaborate affair.”

You aren’t sure how to right your brain from the way it’s tilted off kilter. It’s so much, so different from what you’d built up in your head. There’s no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.

Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, “Did he kiss you back?” You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, “Sorry, that’s not exactly im—”

“No, it’s fine,” she meets your eyes. “He did kiss me back.”

“Oh. Okay, um…” you trail off, bite your lip. You don’t know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where you’d been slouching against the railing. “Okay. You’ve been honest, so I will be, too.”

She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” you start. “I think I need some time and perspective. But, I… I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didn’t let any communication happen.” You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. “And, I wasn’t there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea — no idea! — what he was going through.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell you—”

“And why is that?” Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. “Did he feel like he couldn’t confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasn’t exactly shy about telling him my shit.” You take a long draw of coffee. “Anyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

She nods. “He’d like that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess into the storm. “A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.

“Why, uh… why didn’t you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?”

She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. “I was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.”

You hum, nodding. “I get that.”

There’s another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide it’s better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.

“So,” she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, “what’s this about you being in love with Levi?”

“Aw, shit,” you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. “It really snuck up on me.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m shocked.” Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. “And you think he rejected you.”

“Well, I…” you cringe, thinking back to last night. “He called me very beautiful.”

“Doesn’t sound like a rejection.”

“It was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,” you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“I think that’s just his emotional constipation.”

You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly. “Annie!”

“What? I’m right.” She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. “He likes you, or he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Yes,” she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. “We will.”

—

(read part 6 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #annie leonhart #swearing #intoxication #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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shinygoldstar · 3 years

Text

Midnight Snack

DannyMay Day 11: Midnight

(Also DannyMay Shadow, Scars, Power, Nature, Seasons, Teeth can you find them all?)

Word Count: 2271 (not beta’d. experimental writing)

Warning: mentions of ghost cannibalism, nothing explicit

@floralflowerpower – for that ghost cannibalism post

(it’s 1 am so i’m gonna sleep now. might post on AO3 later)

Edit: AO3 Added!

It was mid-October. The leaves are starting to turn yellow heralding the approaching autumn. Danny was happy because that meant the unusually hot weather is almost over. It wasn’t that he’s melting from the heat- quite the opposite, he’s probably the only person in Amity that isn’t sweltering under the sun with his cold core. But due to this exact same reason, his cooler body temperature also drew in water vapor which condenses on his skin, pooling into beads of water dripping down his shirt, making him appear extra sweaty. He can’t wait for the temperature to be cool enough to not change clothes every few hours. Good thing his clothes are purchased by the dozen; no one really noticed him wearing new sets of clothes throughout the day.

It was the contaminated fridge foods that disappeared first. No one missed them. At least until they can’t find the mutated turkeys for their annual Thanksgiving hunting event.

Danny yawned as he and his friends entered Fenton Works. Autumn is comfy. Just the right temperature where he can wear loose clothing and not be stared at for being underdressed for the weather. No ‘sweating’ either. His mouth closed with a click, a bit too fast on his new fangs. Danny winced. The fangs seemed to have grown longer overnight again. At this rate Danny won’t be able to pass them off as normal pointy canine teeth for much longer. It didn’t hurt but the itch is annoying. Danny took a detour to the fridge, grabbing an ice cube from the freezer and popped it into his mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cubes to take the edge off the itch as they walked down to the basement lab. His parents are at a paranormal convention at a nearby city and won’t be back until tomorrow. Danny and his friends gladly took the opportunity to do their ‘Danny’s quarterly fitness test’.

Danny flipped on the light switch and walked to the center of the lab, transforming into his ghost form. “Okay I’m ready. What’s first on the list?”

Tucker dropped his bag and took out a piece of notebook paper, “Okay, first we gotta do the baseline measurements. Height, weight, temperature, and the ecto reading.” Sam dug through her sports bag, pulling out the measurement tape. She held it against Danny, eyes scanning the tape measurement numbers. “Still the same height.”

Tucker nodded, noting down the measurement in Danny’s health notebook. “Next, weight.” Danny stood over the scale. “Yup, still the same weight too.”

Then it was the ecto-samples that Jack misplaced in the kitchen fridge. Jack warned everyone a few days later (everyone knows to avoid glowing food on normal basis so the delayed warning is mostly just courtesy), but no one could find where it went and assumed it grew legs to join the other tiny ecto-samples lurking as their equivalent of household pests. (No matter how often Maddie tried to patch up the mouse hole it keeps reappearing in the same shape but in a different part of the house as if the original mouse hole got transplanted from its original location)

“Lunch Lady’s right. You need to eat more. You’re still as skinny as ever.” Sam remarked as Danny took the thermometer out of his mouth. “76 F. The ghosts keep attacking me all day and night. You’d think my parents would notice when a ghost sneaks pass them while they work in the lab but I triggered all their ghost alarms just by being in the house so they deactivated the system when I’m around. They must’ve kept it turned off during the day too.”

“Tough luck dude. Ecto scan next.” Tucker passed the scanner to Sam while Danny stood still for her to scan. The machine beeped, “Wow 6.8, that’s quite a jump from last quarter’s 5.1”

“Maybe it was from all the ghost fighting I did over the summer?”

As the leaves began to fall from the branches, ghost attacks lessened in frequency. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth Danny happily enjoyed the lack of ghost attacks to focus more on his studies. If he did well enough, he might even get Bs for his efforts. He also managed to avoid getting detention for the entire week much to the relief of everyone involved.

Two days before Thanksgiving, the Fentons finally remembered their turkeys. But by then it was gone. In a rush, they quickly purchased a pre-made turkey instead. While Danny enjoyed the fact that they’re having a normal family dinner for once, he can’t help but feel like there’s something off about the chicken. As if it’s missing a particular tangy or zingy flavor that would’ve made it richer in flavor. ‘Must’ve been because it’s overcooked.’

"Honey? Have you seen the new ecto-samples I placed in the basement lab fridge?" “Again Jack? This is the third time this month. Have you checked the upstairs fridge?” “I-ah was pretty sure I placed them in the correct fridge this time. Must be some no-good thievin’ ghost.” “I’ll set up the ecto-anti-theft, that’ll get ‘em good! No ghost can escape Jack Fenton for long!”

*Intruder Alert* *Intruder Alert*

Red lights peppered with robotic voice and alarm noises lurched Maddie into full alert mode. She quickly took stock of her surroundings and tried to wake Jack up. But Jack had his earplugs on and continued to snore blissfully. A loud knock on the door caught her attention. “What’s going on mom?” Jazz’s voice floated through the door. Maddie quickly rose to open the bedroom door, swiftly pulled Jazz in and locked the door. “Jazz dear, try to wake your dad up. I’ll go check on the intruder.” Maddie strode quietly to the door then paused, “Have you checked on Danny?” Jazz bit her lips and looked away for a moment “-ah yeah! Danny’s snoring so loud he can’t hear the alarm.” Maddie twisted the doorknob but paused, hesitating. “He’s fine mom.” Jazz reassures her. “If Danny wakes up, he’ll come here first. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

The alarm rang loudly in her ears as she walked down the stairs to the basement lab, its loud ringing noise effectively covering up the sound of her footsteps. Reaching the basement floor, Maddie quickly crept over to hide behind the shelf on her left, eyes scanning the lab for the intruder.

The glass jars clinked as a shadow moved about the fridge. A very familiar shadow. That didn’t glow. Maddie turned on the lab lights. “Danny?” she started, carefully walking over to face him, her eyes still scanning him to check if he’s really her Danny. The faint, barely noticeable scar on his eyebrow from his attempt to fly off the tree when he was five is there confirming his identity.

“What are you doing down here-?” Maddie noticed the glowing jar in his hand, “and what exactly are you doing?” Danny hazily stared at her; eyes half-lidded. Maddie snapped her fingers to get his attention. Danny didn’t blink. “He's still not awake, Danny come on wake up!”, she shook his shoulders. “Huh? Wuzzat?” Danny groggily woke up. He blinked in confusion.

Finally aware of his surroundings, Danny looked down at his right hand that still held the glowing sample. “Aah!” Danny yelped dropping the sample, then realizing he dropped the sample, tries to catch the jar, fumbling clumsily. Maddie would’ve laughed if it was anywhere else but in this situation. “Danny, do you remember what you were doing?”

“I was doing my homework and was craving for a good cheeseburger?”

---

“And the half-opened jar of ectoplasm?”

“Pickles?”

---

“Dude are you for real? That was priceless!” Tucker crowed with laughter. Sam leaned away from Tucker to avoid the meat spittle, “Urgh! Gross Tucker! Swallow it before you speak!”

Danny grumbled into his glass of milkshake, “’s not funny Tuck. you didn't see her face. She was about ready to scan me for signs of ecto-possession. Good thing my lie about craving cheeseburger and opening the wrong fridge worked. Otherwise I’d be in big trouble if she scanned me now with my latest ecto-reading. Anyways I'm banned from the lab now.” Danny bit into his burger.

“So what really happened there dude? Did you seriously sleepwalk into the basement lab?”

“I think so? I don’t really remember anything before Mom found me in the lab. Only that I was feeling a bit hungry.”

The ghosts stopped coming. Everyone in Amity held their breath when there were no ghost attacks for two weeks straight, then a month. Then two months, three. No ghosts. They let out their collective breath. It might be too soon to hope but for now they will enjoy their ghost-free, perfectly ordinary life. It feels a bit strange to not have ghost related interruptions as part of their daily routine but they didn’t miss the ghost-related reconstruction expenses. The local insurance company employees received a nice bonus for the ghost-free month.

By the time March rolled in, Danny is restless. “Guys, there's definitely something big going on.”, he waved his hands for emphasis. “The Fenton portal is still open yet no ghost came through? Not even Boxy since the North District warehouse thing last month. There’s definitely something big going on. I've been taking the ghost-free break for granted for a while now and it helped save my grades but this is too big to ignore.”

“Dude, maybe it’s because you’re much more powerful now? Your latest reading last week is 8.2. None of the ghosts we’ve met so far is above 6 except for Vlad and the Ghost King.” Tucker suggested.

“You might have a point there, Tucker. We haven’t seen any of the ghosts bothering Vlad so far and he’s definitely higher than 6.” Sam added.

Danny frowned, “Maybe you’re right but I just have this nagging feeling that that’s not quite it.”

Danny entered the Zone with little fanfare. The area around the Fenton portal looked normal enough, the usual rocks and clouds of debris are still floating around in their usual areas. Danny aimlessly passed through the nooks and crannies, ducking under the endless spiral staircase, not entirely sure of what to look for. The Zone felt a bit quiet today but Danny haven’t been to the Zone that frequently to be certain about it.

The Ghost Zone, while still filled with random bits of odds and ends felt empty somehow. It wasn't until he sighted Skulker that he realized he hasn't seen any of the tiny blog ghosts nor the occasional passerby ghosts through his trip.

Luckily or unluckily, Danny quickly spotted someone he knew in the distance. As if called, Skulker turned his head towards Danny, then veered sharply to the left and flew fast in Danny's opposite direction, a first for the self-proclaimed hunter to not hunt his favorite prey. ‘Something's not right and Skulker definitely knows something.’ Danny thought.

Danny quickly chased after him; Skulker could never beat Danny at speed chase even at his best, and he won't be winning today's unplanned race either. “Hey Skulker! What’s going on?” Danny yelled over the gap between them but Skulker gave no reply, diving down deep into the reddish forest ravines of the island below. Not to be deterred, Danny did a quick aerial flip, adjusting his flight angle to follow down Skulker’s path. Danny soon caught up to Skulker and launched him into a nearby rock with sticky ectoplasm to hold him still long enough to talk. Skulker ejected from his metal suit but Danny was faster and caught the real ghost before he can escape.

(Why is Skulker fleeing?)

"Hey Skulker, not hunting me for once?" Danny asked teasingly.

Skulker paled (Danny never knew ghosts can turn pale) and squirmed even more. Danny's smile dropped.

"What’s going on Skulker?" he asked worriedly. “None of the ghosts have appeared in the human world and the Zone looks empty somehow”

Skulker squirmed a bit more but realizing he’s stuck finally said, “Ghost Child, haven’t you ever wondered why the Infinite Realms is never overcrowded?”

Danny frowned, puzzled as to where this leads to. “How is this related to this situation?” Skulker stared at Danny stunned.

“What?” Danny asked, suddenly self-conscious, “-was there something I was supposed to know about?”

Skulker sighed, unconsciously loosening a bit of his tension, “You’re so young. So very young. We Ghosts don’t fade as fast as Newcomers arrive from your world. In the Realms, there's a natural system that keeps the population under control. An ecosystem. There's predator and there's prey. And then there's the Apex Predator. There's a reason why Dark was feared. It wasn't just for his harsh rule. It was because he was the Apex Predator.”

Danny struck at the odd wording, "’Was’? Was that because he got sealed?” Danny paused, “But wait- if he's sealed, he would still be the Apex predator. So how-? Wait. Did I?"

Skulker nodded, "Good you're catching on fast. By defeating Pariah Dark, you have proven to the Realms that you're the best candidate for the Apex Predator. And with the new status comes sets of conducts, one your body instincts know well. You've been culling down the uncontrolled excess from Pariah Dark's sleep quite fast. Your hunger would settle down soon of course once balance has been re-established in the Realms."

“But- How- Wait- What-?” Danny looked down at his hand “Hey Skulker--!” but his hand is bare.

Danny’s lips tasted oddly tangy, energized.

-----

(Skulker might've slipped out of Danny's slack hand while Danny is in shock. Danny might've bit his lips hard enough to bleed. It's not that hard with his new fangs. But this is just speculation...)

#midnight snack au #danny phantom #dannymay2021 #DP ghost cannibalism #goldpost #Skulker BS'd on the spot and I took it as worldbuilding material #the added last part is the original ending #interpretation of the final ending is now up to you #😏😏😏

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bffsoobin · 3 years

Text

princeps caeli

➤ air prince!hueningkai x orphan!reader, royalty!au, historical!au, fluff, mild angst

↳ For as long as you could remember, you had been enamored with the sky and all the things it contained. When you find yourself leaving the home you grew up in, you rely more than ever on the comfort of the glimmering sky. Finding a home among the clouds you’d always admired seemed far from reality until you met Hueningkai.

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: reader is an orphan, so mentions of loss of parents/family, some self-doubt, brief mentions of homelessness and feeling alone

A/N: this is my contribution to the Five Princes collab with @soobmint @gyuluster @honeyju and @juunnies please be sure to keep an eye out for their contributions for the other members to be posted in the coming weeks! This was a super fun project and I’m so happy I got to be part of it! As always I have not proofread or edited this piece.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“It’s almost noon, miss Y/N,” a small, timid voice chimed from somewhere behind you. The grass underneath your body was beginning to poke at the back of your neck, sticking between the thick strands of your hair and making your scalp itch. You were sure that the back of your pale pink day dress was being stained with a subtle green, but you couldn’t quite find it in your soul to care. After all, this was an undeniably big day.

Just this morning, you had woken up to a special loaf of your favorite bread cooling on the counter in the kitchen along with a handwritten note from the head lady of the house, Beatrice. The note was simple, with scrawling letters congratulating you on your eighteenth birthday.

Since you were an infant, you’d lived in the 4th Street Orphanage, cared for by Beatrice and the few staff members she was able to sustain employment for. It was the only life you’d ever known, as you never knew your parents apart from a single photograph salvaged from the house you were born in. There had never been a time in your life where you longed for family, as the other children living alongside you had been more than enough company, and the staff were never harsh like you heard they were at other orphanages.

But today, the life you had come to know and love within the walls of the homey orphanage was coming to an end. Now that you were eighteen, it was time for you to leave the home and made space for younger children to enter the home. The thought of leaving made your stomach lurch, but you knew that it was for the best. Beatrice had helped you secure a new living arrangement in the next town over, and your train was set to leave just after noon- hence the warning of time from the little boy.

You allowed yourself an extra moment to study the swirling skies above you. Large, puffy clouds were covering almost every inch of the blue sky; dancing and forming into new shapes with every pass of warm wind. It was one of the simplest pleasures in your life, to watch the sky shift and shake above you. The garden you laid in now had been your haven for as long as you could remember. Often you would drag a pillow and blanket out to the field and spend an entire day reveling in the breeze and the chirps of passing creatures. On several occasions throughout your youth, a uniquely beautiful butterfly who boasted silvery-blue wings with strong black markings had visited you in. It was unlike any butterfly you’d seen in the region before, but you admired it wholly every time it came around to your home. You couldn’t help but hope that it would flutter into your path again today before you had to go.

“Is she out in the garden again?” You heard a familiar, bellowing voice call from the open windows of the orphanage. It was surely Beatrice, growing anxious as the clock ticked closer to noon. All of your things had been packed before you went outside, but there was still a lingering desire for closure before you departed. Reluctantly, you hauled yourself off of the plush grass and brushed at your knees before wandering back toward the house.

Inside, all of the other children you lived with were gathered in the living room, engaged in various activities, and you were grateful that only a few of their gazes shifted to you. You were grateful for that, as the few stares you did catch made you feel an odd sense of guilt for leaving. A blush crept out from the collar of your dress, thankfully disguised by the sweltering heat of the day as the few members of the staff gave you tearful smiles.

The grandfather clock on the wall played its tinny, high pitched song to announce the arrival of noon. Upon hearing the sound, a group of children rose from their spots and came to hug you in turn. The ones old enough to understand your departure breathed messages of thanks and farewell, while the younger children toddled over and hugged at your legs simply because they’d seen others do it. Sometime during the shuffle, Beatrice had gone up to your room to collect your single suitcase of belongings and was now standing solemnly next to the front door.

“Dear, it’s time to get going...” she spoke softly, extending an age-worn hand toward you. She offered you the worn leather suitcase and you accepted it quickly; hugging the case to your chest protectively as you gave one last goodbye to the rest of the home.

Your short walk to the train station was mostly silent. Beatrice had never been one for small talk, and you were experiencing so many warring emotions that you wouldn’t have even known what to say if you could manage to open your mouth.

“Listen to me,” she said just as the bustle of people around the train station came into view. “When you arrive in town, you go straight to the Pharmacy as I told you. The woman who owns it is very old but very kind. I’ve known her for many years, and she’s looking for a new young soul to work at the shop, and she has a spare bedroom in the apartment above the place that she’s willing to give to you. I got a letter from her just last week that she was anticipating your arrival.”

Suddenly overwhelmed with the new direction of your life, a few tears began to gather around your lashes but you blinked them away. Your head felt hazy, stuffed full of cotton as you took mindless steps toward the train station. Of course, Beatrice noticed your state right away and cooed comfortingly in the way only a mother could.

“We’ll be just a train ride away, dear. And I do so wish you could simply stay in the home, but you must go on and live your own life...” her words dissipated as she dug through the deep pockets sewn into her dress, obviously searching for something. Finally she produced a simple burlap pouch that clinked with the telltale sound of coins. Your eyes widened at the idea of her carrying so much money with her for such a short trip, and then you realized that it was for you.

“Oh no, I can’t-” the old woman pushed the bag into your hands anyway, leaving no room for your protests. The bag was heavy in your hand, and a feeling of anxiety at having so many coins sprouted in your chest.

“I save for every child to give them something on the day they leave. That money is all yours. I don’t expect a single coin back, so don’t even try.” Beatrice’s words were firm as she led you onto the train platform. More and more people were gathering around, making it clear that the scheduled time for the train must have been drawing closer.

“Thank you,” you finally mustered just before the incoming train sounded its horn and began to slow on the tracks. You held both the suitcase and the pouch of coins tight to your body as Beatrice pulled you into one more bone-crushing hug, her thin frame melding into you without care for the objects between you. She smoothed down the back of your hair with a gentle pat, and before you knew it you were being pushed into the train by waves of travelers.

----

The train ride to the next town over was rather quick, as you spent most of it worrying over locating the pharmacy and the old woman. As you left the train, still holding your suitcase and pouch of coins so close to your body that your arms had begun to ache, a warm breeze met you. Wind ghosted over your face, brushing at the curves of your face and pushing your hair away from the back of your neck. The push of the air against your skin calmed you enough to lead you away from the bodies pouring out of the train and toward your new home.

You faltered in your path once departing the train station, unsure which way to walk to come across the pharmacy. The thought of asking a passing citizen for help entered your mind and then quickly dissipated. If you were going to live here, you may as well begin to familiarize yourself with the layout now.

It was a sunny afternoon, bringing families out of their homes and shop owners onto their front sidewalks to tout their products and converse with passing customers. With the sun right above your head, the rays beating onto your scalp made you feel a bit dizzy, the air thick with humidity as it clung to your skin. A knot built in your stomach the more you wandered, eyeing up the town’s bank, biggest restaurant, a few small clothing shops, and a doctor’s office. The layout of the town was similar to your own, but the streets were bustling with well dressed families, and you suddenly felt insecure in your grass-stained hand me down dress. A particularly wealthy looking family brushed past you as you meandered closer to what you figured was the center of town. The older child sent you a snide look, eyes widening at the state of your tattered suitcase and dirty shoes.

A currently empty schoolhouse stood a few feet taller than the one in your hometown, a pair of children sitting on the concrete steps and tossing stones between their hands in some kind of game you didn’t recognize. They smiled as you passed, stopping their game just long enough to regard the stranger strolling through their town. Kiddy corner to the schoolhouse, you spotted the brick walled general store. Beams of sunlight broke over the ceiling of the building, blinding you momentarily as you approached it. With a hand over your eyes, you finally regained your vision at the same time you rounded the corner sidewalk of the store. Just to the left of you was a similarity built brick building, boasting painted block letters spelling “Pharmacy”. A surge of excitement sped through your body upon finding your destination. Hands shaking, you approached the ornate door and pulled, hearing the bell tinkle from above you.

The shop you entered was just as you had expected; tonic bottles and boxes of medication stacked onto oak shelves with handwritten price tags hanging below them. The red and white tiled floor below your feet was squeaky clean and shined underneath the bright lights hanging off the ceiling. As you approached the counter, you noticed that the building was seemingly empty.

“Hello?” You called, voice loud as a firework in the vacant building. There was a shuffling noise from somewhere behind the counter, then a groan, then the abrupt scrape of metal against tile. A small, quite frail looking woman bellied up to the counter. She wore tiny round spectacles that rested delicately on her dotted nose, and a flowery apron that tied loosely around her waist.

“What can I do for you?” She asked, hazarding you an odd glance as if she were trying to decipher if you were someone she knew and had simply forgotten. “Forgive me dear, but I don’t know your last name to retrieve your things...”

“Oh, that’s because I’m uh, from the 4th Street Orphanage. Beatrice told me that she had spoken to you about me?” Your fingers were slippery with sweat as you awaited her response. Her eyes lit up with recognition and then suddenly fell with a sigh.

“Oh yes, yes, I know of you, dear...it’s just, there’s an issue with the arrangement I had made with Beatrice. You see, my dear nephew has fallen into similar straights as you...no where to go, in need of a room...” A hot iron of anxiety drove straight through your chest at her words. You knew exactly where they were going.

“You see, family must come first, dear. And he’s already moved in.” One of her aged hands came up to adjust her glasses, the other laying across her chest apologetically as she gazed up at you.

“I see,” you nodded politely, holding back the anxious tears sprouting along your eyelashes. Where were you supposed to go now? You had no backup plan, and Beatrice surely hadn’t anticipated anything this horrible to go wrong. “Do you happen to know if there’s a hotel around?” You asked, voice wavering and clipped. The old woman nodded calmly, giving you simple directions that would lead you back the way you’d came and to the only lodging the town had to offer.

----

Checking into the hotel was easy enough thanks to your newly acquired bag of coins. The owner of the place had shown you around, and now you were sat idly in your rented room. An old four posted oak bed with simple white sheets and two duck-feather stuffed pillows was about all the luxury you were afforded. A simple wardrobe, whose wood was chipped and scratched on the legs, held what little you had brought along in your suitcase. The only saving grace of the room was the two large windows and the thin white curtains that attempted to cover them. Strong beams of sunlight were criss-crossing the room, giving it an ethereal glow that almost made up for the lack of comfort. Right now, you had both windows wide open, allowing the heat and sounds of people conversing to flow in and out as it pleased. Your face was dry now, all of your tears having been shed on your short walk from the Pharmacy to the hotel. As you gazed out the window, you tipped your head up to the clear blue sky.

If only I could live up there; you thought. No money, no worries, no stress about what to eat in a day or when to wash your clothes. All you’d have to worry about up there was which cloud to lay on and what days it was going to rain. It was a silly, childish thought; but it helped calm you nonetheless. You hoped that if anyone was really living in the sky-perhaps like something in a fairytale book that had been donated to the orphanage when you were young- that they were happy, and felt as light and airy as they could.

The longer you stared out of the window, the more you became saddened at the thought that you were never going to be able to magically disappear into the clouds. It was beyond all logic.

After a while, your stomach growled in protest, inspiring you to make a cautious trip down to the kitchen of the hotel to inquire about when dinner would be served. Much to your joy, you had arrived only five minutes before the beginning of serving. The few other people living in the hotel greeted you kindly but made no attempt at further conversation. Perhaps they had noticed the status of your dress and decided that they didn’t have time to speak with someone in your state. The thought pulled at your heart strings, causing you to question if you’d ever be able to forge a life on your own.

Once the food was available, you ate quickly and quietly, barely registering the taste of the soup and buttered bread that had been on the menu. Your earlier interactions made you self conscious, and you wished for nothing more than to sink into the seat of the oak chair you sat upon. The night was still quite young by the time you’d washed up and gotten ready for bed, but as you had nowhere to be you allowed yourself an early bedtime. You lit a small candle next to your bedside; not for the light it provided, but simply for the comfort of the flickering flame.

Dusk had begun to creep into the summer sky as you got under the comforter of the bed. A faint purple haze colored the sky, the warm breeze still as strong as it had been the entire day. A part of you had forgotten that today was your 18th birthday. None of your birthdays had ever been extravagant, but today had come and gone so hecticly that you didn’t even have a chance to enjoy being an adult. A sting of upset rocketed through your veins and you allowed yourself to wallow in it for a moment; to feel bad for yourself and your situation and the fact that the only thing you got for your birthday was a goodbye to the only life you’d ever known.

You clamped your eyes tight against the world, trying to curb your anger at the world as best as you could. With your arm over your eyes you could almost convince yourself that everything was okay, that nothing had gone wrong when you arrived at town this afternoon and you weren’t dreadfully lonely.

Just as you were about to stand and look down upon the chattering streets, a loud creak resonated through the room. It was unlike the cream that came from the bed you laid on or the door to the room. It sounded much more akin to the sound that the panes of the windows had made when you first pushed them open a few hours ago. Suddenly sweating, you laid totally still, hoping that what or who ever was trying to enter your room would walk away peacefully.

Moments passed, and you heard no new noises. Surprising even yourself, you sat up quickly and fearlessly, opening your eyes in a flash to scan the room.

“Who are you?” You yelled and then immediately regretted. What awful last words, you thought. The creak had apparently been borne from the arrival of a man, who looked just about your age, propped casually on your windowsill. Even in the odd lighting you could tell he was handsome, the sharp cut of his jaw and delicate drop of his nose leading into the curve of his Cupid’s bow were illuminated by the candle you’d lit before. The sight of a man so perfect made your heartbeat kick into overdrive.

His dark brown hair was fluffy, curled and sticking up at points in a charmingly messy way. He was dressed in simple white clothing unlike anything you were used to seeing around your city. The shirt he wore was long-sleeved but thin, form fitting enough to allow you a hint of the smooth movement of his muscles. A few small white buttons were open at the neck, giving off a glimpse of glowing, warm skin. You were almost disappointed that you couldn’t see more of him from this angle, but you were also far too nervous to change the way you were sitting.

Oddly, there was no feeling of anxiety running through your veins anymore. Although this young man had blatantly broken into your room and was sitting unnervingly still at the window, you felt no traces of anxiety. Something about him seemed oddly familiar although you couldn’t place why. Obviously you would have remembered a presence such as his but you came up empty.

He stood from the windowsill now, making steps that somehow managed not to create a single sound as he approached the bed.

“I’m Hueningkai,” his voice was even and soothing, gentle to your ears. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here... and how I found you.” You swallowed the anxious lump in your throat and finally made eye contact with him. His eyes were shimmering, a hint of amusement winking from behind his dark irises.

“What do you mean? Do I know you?”

“Ah, not quite,” he gave a small shy smile. “I do know you, though, Y/N.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he continued speaking anyway. “I come from a place that exists just beyond the world you know. We simply call it the Five Kingdoms- one for every element known to humans. My family has ruled the Kingdom of Caeli for many eons. In fact I-“ he stopped to scratch at the back of his neck, cheeks going uncharacteristically rosy. “I am the prince of Caeli, and my father is in his final days. He sent me to find you.”

Your head spun. This had to be some kind of trick, a clever rouse to lure you into some kind of danger. But you couldn’t shake the fact that Hueningkai seemed familiar; warm and believable in his words. It was really no shock to you that another world behind your own existed. In fact, the idea of escaping the world as you know it was exhilarating.

“What is Caeli- if you don’t mind my asking. It’s not an element that I find familiar.” A blush crept along the apples of your cheeks at asking such a daft question. Hueningkai allowed an easy smile that scrunched up the fat of his cheeks charmingly.

“It means air.” He answered simply before waiting as if to see if you had any further questions.

“What did you mean that your father sent you to find me? Surely there’s no way he knows who I am. I’ve never heard of you, after all. And I don’t live a very extraordinary life,” you chucked a little as you glanced around the hotel room that seemed even more drab with Hueningkai inside of it.

“You see, as a kingdom we have many prophesies, all of which are sacred guiding principles to the actions of our people. In fact all five kingdoms have these, but right now the ones of my people are most important. For many generations the men of my family have been carrying the information of a certain prophecy that tells the story of a young girl from earth visiting Caeli. She is supposed to be kind, quaint...” he trailed off for a moment, ghosting his eyes over your figure. “And her parents are to have been from Caeli as well. She is meant to return to the Kingdom and help us fulfill her prophecy.”

You nodded despite the knot forming between your eyebrows. He was certainly insinuating that the girl from the prophecy was supposed to be you, hence why you had found him here. And you wished nothing more than to believe him, but there was one massive problem.

“Well, my parents are-”

“Passed away, yes. I never knew them but my mother and father did. You and I were born in the same year but your parents left shortly before your birth to experience life on Earth. It’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but ever since I first heard the prophecy I wanted to meet you. Not only am I fascinated by Earth but the idea that my-” he stopped himself short, reddening again before clearing his throat. “Essentially, I’m here to collect you as the prophecy indicates. Of course, if you truly do wish to stay here...” he skimmed the surroundings with a skeptical eye. You figured that whatever royal quarters he came from was much grander than this. “I will not force you to come along.”

“I-hold on,” you finally moved from the spot on the bed you’d been somewhat rooted to to rummage through your suitcase. In the single pocket sewn into the lining you had stashed the only photo you’d ever seen of your parents.

“Here,” you offered the photo to Hueningkai with shaky hands. He picked up the weathered film and carefully scrutinized it. “Do you...recognize them? I know you said you never knew them but I just-”

“No, no. This is them. Your parents. In the castle we keep a detailed record of everyone who has lived in Caeli, and I’ve certainly seen their faces.” A surge of excitement bolted through you at the confirmation and it was enough to make up your mind about leaving. If this place was truly where your parents had been from, there was no way you couldn’t explore it given the chance. Decisively you began to fold your clothing back into your suitcase, blushing slightly at the thought of Hueningkai watching you.

“So I take it you’re coming back with me?” He giggled a bit as you zipped the suitcase with fervor. When you whirled around again, clutching the cracking leather case, you saw that his eyes were sparkling, lips upturned in a gentle smirk.

“Oh yes, yes I’m coming with you. Uh, lead the way?”

——

The walk from your hotel room to the inconspicuous patch of tall grass that Hueningkai led you to was brisk. He kept an amazingly quick gait, breezing by all of the curious looks the two of you received as you breezed through town.

Now, the moon shone high above your bodies in the field, clearly illuminating the grass brushing against your knees. Hueningkai waved you forward through the grass patch and into the gradually thickening trees. The scent of dirt and leaves invaded your nose as you walked to an unknown location. At a seemingly random tree Hueningkai stopped and looked back at you.

“Take a step back, just in case,” he warned kindly the corners of his eyes scrunching. You did as you were told as he began to mutter something that you didn’t quite catch in time to comprehend. Right before your eyes the simple tree shifted, doubling in width and opening forward like a swinging door. Inside of it laid a beautiful wooden staircase that gleamed in the setting light of the sun. It seemed to go on forever, stretching upwards in an infinite fashion to a nondescript white light. Hueningkai took the first step easily before turning to look at you over his shoulder, encouraging you with a nod of his head.

You suddenly felt hyper aware of your body, the beating of your heart loud in your ears and the tingling of your fingers feeling like sparks of lightning. Goosebumps rose all across your skin as the two of you ascended the stairs, approaching closer and closer to the white light at the top. It had become so blinding that you had to squint your eyes closed and hope that your feet didn’t miss a step on the way up.

A few moments after shutting your eyes you felt a shift in the ground below you. It felt much softer than the solid wood of the stairs, and you could even sense that the scent lingering in the air had changed into something you could only describe as pure. Hueningkai laid a gentle, steady hand on your shoulder.

“We’re here,” you could hear the smile on his face before you even opened your eyes. You instantly became grateful for that, as the sight presented in front of you captured all of your attention. The soft ground that you’d felt before was evidently a literal cloud; fluffy and white and cushioning the soles of your feet with the most luxurious feeling you’d ever experienced. A few feet ahead, you could see the beginnings of a town like the one you knew on Earth, except the buildings were all made of a beautiful white-gray material that appeared almost like marble. What you could see from there was built grandly, tall and wide and intricate in their structure. Everything was blanketed in the same hazy glow of the sunset that you were admiring just minutes before.

Hueningkai let you marvel for a moment before he gently urged you along with a hand on your lower back. The pair of you walked past many citizens of Caeli, whom nodded or bowed politely at the sight of their prince. The thought made your face flush. Here you were- a simple, orphaned girl who until just minutes ago was helpless- flanked by the handsome and dignified prince of Caeli. You caught the eyes of a few people before shying away, noting the confusion poorly hidden behind their polite smiles. Hueningkai was immune to it all; waving kindly as he led you through the soft terrain.

Finally his footsteps slowed at the presence of large gates and grey brick walls. Clouds gathered around the fence the same way that grass bunched around walls, reminding you for a moment of being back at the orphanage and laying in the garden for hours. The gates opened instantly, revealing the castle behind them in all its glory. It was sparkling in a way that was surely magical, every single brick and window glimmering down at you bathed in the warm orangey-pink glow of sunset. Clouds gathered tightly around the base of this building too, creeping slightly up the side of the turrets the same way ivy would.

Guards dressed in shiny silver armor accompanied by similarly dressed horses. Upon seeing Hueningkai approaching they stood at salute, one frantically pulling at the chain which pulled open the gate to the main entrance. Your face grew ever hotter as you stepped inside of the castle, instantly greeted by ornate marble on every single wall. The floor beneath you was made of the same material but swirling in alternate colors of blue, black and white. In the middle of the room was a large staircase that wound upwards in two separate directions. It was obvious that the room extended back underneath the staircase too, and that was the direction in which Hueningkai lead you toward. His shoes clicked off of the marble pleasantly while yours seemed to do nothing but slide noiselessly against it.

You’d never felt more unconscious of your clothing, as you knew for a fact that the dress you were wearing right now had a clearly stitched together tear somewhere around the left shoulder. In the brighter lighting of the castle you could tell that Hueningkai’s clothing was expensive and carefully crafted. When he finally stopped walking it was at the door of what was obviously a throne room, as two large thrones covered in velvet blue coverings were sitting at the front of the room, slightly elevated above the smooth flooring. A large portrait framed in silver hung on the wall to the left of the thrones, depicting Hueningkai’s family but several years younger, as evidenced by the boyish shape of his face within the frame.

It seemed to you that there was no one within the room, but a voice suddenly sounded from a corner you couldn’t see. It was light and airy, obviously belonging to a woman. You heard the clink of heels against marble before a short, thin woman with graying hairs and a face scrunched in worry appeared right in front of the two of you. Instinctively you tried to hide behind Hueningkai’s taller frame before she could spot you but you could tell that your attempt was unsuccessful as soon as she let out a surprised squeal.

“Oh, you’ve found her! And convinced her to come! Oh, honey, your father will be so happy to see you both,” she grabbed his hands jovially and you quickly gathered that she was his mother. Reluctantly you stepped away from the cover of his body, brushing your arm against his own in your haste. Her face melted instantly upon seeing you fully.

“Oh, hello Y/N! We are so happy to have you back after all this time. Come on, you two,” she grasped your hand in her pleasantly warm one and lead you back the way you’d come. Hueningkai kept up behind the two of you, snickering under his breath when you turned your head back to give him a pleading stare. He simply shrugged at his mothers actions as you made it to the top of the marble steps. Down one more winding hallway you traveled, nodding politely at everything Hueningkai’s mother told you until you reached another grand wooden door that was guarded by another armored guard. He moved away immediately and bent into a bow.

The inside of this room was considerably darker although still covered in the same blue and silver that seemed to have been the running theme of the castle. In the middle laid a large four poster bed with a man laid in the middle. He was obviously sick-large purple bags were under his eyes and a cloth laid across his forehead. His eyes were closed as you entered the room, and they didn’t open until Hueningkai’s mother gently shook him. You had noticed that Hueningkai was standing extremely rigid next to you. His eyes were glossed in a layer of unshed tears at the sight of his father in his sickbed.

“Hello, son,” the man said weakly. Hueningkai stepped forward then to sit gingerly at the foot of the bed. In the short time you’d known him he had seemed nothing short of royal and composed, but in this very moment he looked like a child who’d just woken from a nightmare. He conversed quietly with his father before turning his angular face toward you. An awed look crossed his face for a second before he schooled it back to normal and beckoned you forward with a smile. Unable to resist it, you carefully treaded closer to the bed and stood beside Hueningkai. His father smiled to the best of his ability.

“Welcome back to Caeli, dear. I’m sure you’ve been filled in fairly well-” he paused to take a deep, shaky breath. “ We have waited many years after the news about your parents for the day you could come back. I couldn’t be happier to finally have you here and to see you alongside my son. The two of you are going to be such a lovely couple, don’t you think, dear?” Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and suddenly your mouth had gone dry. Surely the old man was going crazy from his sickness, surely he hadn’t just said that...

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more. She looks so much like her mother, doesn’t she? I should look for those pictures of us together, don’t you think?” Hueningkai’s mother enthused as she moved about the room, opening the drawers of a dresser with fervor.

You were still reeling at the idea of you and Hueningkai becoming a couple, as it was the first you’d heard of it. Meekly you turned your head to the boy in question to see that his cheeks were as rosy as you assumed they could get, head slightly bowed as he tried to avoid your gaze. Part of you wanted to question him immediately, put him on the spot in front of his parents and figure out why he had decided to neglect that fairly large piece of information.

But one glance at the content smile on his fathers face and the way his mother was chattering excitedly stopped the words in your throat.

“I- we should go, uh, look at the prophecy, I’m sure she’s curious,” Hueningkai stuttered, suddenly springing up from the bed and bumping into you in the process. Both of his parents stopped their actions and regarded the two of you before nodding their approval. He grabbed blindly for your hand for a moment before lacing his fingers between yours. His palm was just as clammy as your own and the thought calmed you a bit as you sped out of the room. Neither of you spoke as he led you back the way you’d came, passing by the wide staircase and leading you down another lengthy hallway.

The room you found yourself in this time was not guarded but was obviously important. Dim lighting illuminated what looked a bit like a library with shelves filled with thickly bound leather books. Hueningkai dropped your hand finally and you saw his shoulders heave as he took a deep breath before turning to face you. His cheeks were still slightly rosy, having only toned down a bit during travel.

“I’m so sorry they brought that up,” he rushed out. “I didn’t tell you about that part of the prophecy because-well, I figured it would scare you away. I told them before I left not to force it on you, that you’d already be in enough shock about the whole thing- and I wasn’t sure if you’d have someone on earth or even like me so I just-”

“Hueningkai,” you finally tried to get a word in edgewise and he looked stunned that you already had something to say. “I’m not upset with you. Or your parents, really. I-I don’t mind the idea of-” you stopped, frustration bubbling in your gut as you tried to string the right words together. “I think you’re quite handsome.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed wildly in his throat for a second before a wide grin began to split his face. The rosiness in his cheeks seemed to have dissipated at your words and instead a satisfied glow shone on his face. Coolly, he brushed a hand through his hair and exposed even more of his exceptionally smooth skin. You hadn’t been lying. He was easily the most attractive person you’d ever met, and there was no denying the allure of his handsome features especially here in the cozy, dimly lit room. The stare he had leveled on you was steady, unwavering as he roamed a path from your eyes, down to your lips, even further down to your body, and then back up to your eyes. Suddenly shy, you drew in on yourself, tucking your hands underneath your armpits and looking away.

“Well, it just so happens that I find you quite beautiful as well,” he spoke cheekily as his gentle fingertips traced their way across your left shoulder before resting at the apex of your neck. The warmth radiating from his hand made you smile, loosening your hold on yourself until your arms fell at your sides. Shamelessly, you stared right back at him; examining the pink petals of his lips and the honey rich tone of his skin. All time seemed to have stopped as the two of you stood and watched one another, breathing in sync. For a fleeting moment you wondered if he was feeling the same rush of nervous adrenaline to kiss you as you were feeling for him.

Despite your experience with anything romantic, your body was screaming out to feel him closer to you, to feel the soft glide of his lips against yours or the way he would hold you tightly against his chest-

“Come on,” he giggled, and you suddenly realized that he must have been speaking to you while you daydreamed. Your eyes widened apologetically as you finally got your feet to move after his own. Off of a shelf so high that even he had to rise onto his tippytoes to reach it, Hueningkai produced a thick book bound in gray leather. He dusted off the cover and propped the book open in his hands. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. The words were written in a glimmering silver ink that almost jumped off the page as you read it, and almost every paragraph was accompanied by a large, extremely detailed illustration. Hueningkai seemed to know exactly where to find what he was looking for, as he whipped through several pages before finally settling on what appeared to be the start of a new story.

The title page boasted mostly words that you didn’t understand due to the fact that you hadn’t been given much practice in reading beyond basic words. Luckily Hueningkai was too busy to catch the embarrassed flush growing from the collar of your dress to the top of your forehead.

“This is your prophecy, look!” He shoved the book toward you and you caught it with unsure hands, looking down at the first illustrations which depicted the birth of a baby and then an image of the same child having grown into a young girl. You flipped to the next page and recognized something immediately.

“That butterfly,” you jabbed a fingernail toward the page excitedly. “I’ve seen it before- its come into the garden at the orphanage so many times-” Hueningkai laughed shyly, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“That’s because I sent it down to you. For a while I didn’t have the ability to visit earth, and I was always jealous of not being able to check on you when your prophecy seemed so important-” he stopped to scratch the back of his neck and you realized he must be alluding to the prophesied relationship. “So my father suggested I send a butterfly down to report back.”

The thought made your heart swell. For a moment you imagined a younger Hueningkai bargaining with the beautiful and unique butterfly to keep an eye on you and report back to him.

“Must have been some boring reports,” you joked as you turned to the next page to see an image which depicted you entering Caeli.

“Oh, no, never! I loved learning about you. The butterfly was quite secretive at first, but before long it easily spilled everything to me. That was how I knew where to find you tonight.”

It had to have been true, as you recalled seeing the butterfly resting on the windowsill of your bedroom as you packed up your belongings to move.

The next page you flipped to had to be one of the last, as it showed the image of a girl being embraced by a royal family, wedding gown and veil firmly in place. You swallowed the lump in your throat and gingerly took in the next image which depicted the man and woman sitting in the same thrones you’d seen before, wearing elegant crowns and smiling down at a room full of citizens. Surely the words afforded more information but you didn’t bother with trying to understand them.

Hueningkai took back the book and returned it to its shelf.

“Now that you’ve seen the...ending,” he cringed at his own words, “I hope you understand why my parents brought it up. They’ve been waiting for this moment since I was born. I had been told this story so many times, but when I realized the prince destined to be married to the girl from earth-you- was actually me? I-I couldn’t wait to meet you. It surely is a shame that your parents passed away so young and you ended up in the orphanage.”

Your face must have turned sour because he instantly recoiled, doubling back on his words.

“Oh! No, I don’t mean that you’re lesser- I just mean that we could have met sooner had your parents lived. I couldn’t care less where you’ve lived the last eighteen years,” he whispered, sensing the fallen edges of your face. “Truly, you are just as wonderful to me in hand me down clothes as you would be in the finest silks. The most important thing is that you’re finally here, and I can learn about you without the help of an insect. I hope you stay for a while.”

You let out a laugh and his shoulders sagged with relief. With a surge of unfounded confidence you wrapped your arms tightly around his midsection, pressing your face flat against his broad chest and muttering;

“I’m glad we finally met, too, Hueningkai. And I won’t be going anywhere.”

----

“Y/N? Are you in here?” Hueningkai called as he walked into what had become your bedroom when you arrived. He was dressed in his finest suit, a light blue jacket with matching trousers layered over a white button up with ruffles around the collar. His hair was styled away from his face, boasting all of his strong features for anyone to see. For once your clothing matched his own; a flowing light blue dress with layers of fluff at the skirt that made it hard to sit down. Thankfully you had been allowed to forgo the corset, but the top of your dress was still comfortably snug around your stomach and chest. For the first time in your life you were wearing a small bit of makeup and an updo as well as a pair of small heels.

Today was the day you were to finally be introduced to the people of Caeli. Ever since your arrival you had been squirreled away in the castle- not that you were complaining- and had become a distant memory to the few citizens who had seen you arrive weeks ago. In that time, Hueningkai’s father had recovered from whatever sickness had ailed him when you came, and most citizens were too overjoyed with that news to bother worrying about you.

But now you had to worry about them. Hueningkai’s mother had been kind enough to tell you stories about your parents and teach you the basic customs of Caeli without ever pushing you to change who you were. She laughed at your jokes and the way you scarfed down whatever food was put in front of you and never once suggested that you fix your etiquette.

“What if they don’t like me?” You asked as soon as Hueningkai was within your line of sight. A feeling of dread had been bubbling in your stomach since yesterday morning and was the cause of your sleepless night. “I mean I’m just...a random stranger that waltzed in and is now living in the castle...what if someone has a crush on you and they hate me for being real?” You gasped at the thought of some scorned teenage girl hurling a shoe toward your head as you were presented.

Hueningkai sighed. “They will love you, Y/N. The entire kingdom has been awaiting your arrival, for the prophecy to be fulfilled. You are kind, and smart and understanding and beautiful. And if they don’t like you then too bad. I like you, and that’s all that matters. None of them would dare to go against the word of the Prince.”

Your heart hammered wildly against your ribs at his words. There was no denying that you’d grown closer and closer to him as you spent so much time around the castle. The small kindling of a crush you’d had on him when you first met had turned into a raging fire of infatuation.

He brought a hand up to your face and gently cupped your flushed cheek. Instinctively you nuzzled in closer, relishing in the feeling of his touch. “You are still the most wonderful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And if my kingdom fails to notice that, then they’re at fault.” His voice had barely come above a whisper but it sent a noticeable chill down your spine. Hueningkai drifted his thumb over your bottom lip gently, rubbing at the bitten flesh there. Your eyelids fluttered quickly, trying to keep focus on his face as he inched closer.

“Can I kiss you?” He finally murmured. You nodded and mumbled a rushed yes before you could even comprehend the movement. Your body was buzzing as if it were filled with bees, but you kept your lidded eyes focused on him as he descended. Before you knew it he had attached his lips to your own and they were just as soft and supple as you always imagined. He was clearly testing the waters with a small peck, but it left you yearning for more as you captured him in a passionate kiss that had your fingers curling into the nape of his neck.

“That was,” he finally spoke again, wiping at his now swollen lips with the back of his hand. Your chests were both heaving with the unbridled adrenaline you had just experienced. A feeling of warmth, one that had become so common around Hueningkai that you barely registered it, rippled through your body and calmed your frayed nerves. Hueningkai grabbed your hand firmly, fingers curling between yours in a perfect fit of palms, and lead you out of your room toward the front gate of the castle. A new, unknown chapter of your young life was just beginning in the one place you never thought possible, but the one thing you were sure of was that Hueningkai would always be by your side.

369 notes · View notes

sagamemes · 3 years

Text

the sheridan tapes 📼 part one. here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes. tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝ jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you? ❞

❝ makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me? ❞

❝ darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain. ❞

❝ i don't think he was a werewolf. ❞

❝ i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’. ❞

❝ i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena. ❞

❝ my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment. ❞

❝ [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time. ❞

❝ so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then? ❞

❝ well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts. ❞

❝ there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year. ❞

❝ so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once. ❞

❝ it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it. ❞

❝ i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while. ❞

❝ it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee. ❞

❝ i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens? when the earth is gone? ❞

❝ glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then. ❞

❝ knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening. ❞

❝ that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept. ❞

❝ it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again. ❞

❝ he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up. ❞

❝ i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today. ❞

❝ nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer. ❞

❝ guess there really is no such thing as bad press. ❞

❝ i have no idea what a writer’s ‘ process ’ usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this. ❞

❝ see what i have to deal with? god… siblings, am i right? ❞

❝ what can i say? i have a soft spot for gothic architecture. ❞

❝ computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes. ❞

❝ they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions. ❞

❝ that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth. ❞

❝ you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it. ❞

❝ one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void. ❞

❝ the simplest explanation is almost always the right one. ❞

❝ i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have. ❞

❝ no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else. ❞

❝ i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day. ❞

❝ but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine. ❞

❝ given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it. ❞

❝ i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey. ❞

❝ calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself. ❞

❝ just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come. ❞

❝ one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal. ❞

❝ sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then? ❞

❝ something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court. ❞

❝ one of the neighbours must have called 911. ❞

❝ my infamous accident. it almost killed me. ❞

❝ i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me! ❞

❝ could you shut the door on your way out, please? ❞

❝ uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. ❞

❝ the fire that i said went out? yeah, it just started burning again. ❞

❝ so i asked him to lie. ❞

❝ it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs… ❞

❝ apparently, the press had a lot of questions too. ❞

❝ i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth. ❞

❝ oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or, ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ? ❞

❝ i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again. ❞

❝ i… think i’m going to turn around now. ❞

❝ well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change. ❞

❝ will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair? ❞

❝ no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness. ❞

❝ i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson. ❞

❝ why do you always think there’s something wrong? ❞

❝ ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble. ❞

❝ so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it. ❞

❝ i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape. ❞

❝ maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors. ❞

❝ no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in. ❞

❝ well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now. ❞

❝ i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it. ❞

❝ i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus. ❞

❝ i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going. ❞

❝ before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call ‘ unexplainable ’, ‘ supernatural ’, or ‘ paranormal ’. ❞

❝ i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired. ❞

❝ okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly. ❞

❝ [name] lied his ass off to save yours. ❞

❝ a crash like that does funny things to your head. ❞

❝ i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing. ❞

❝ any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke. ❞

❝ i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine. ❞

❝ strange how something so dead can be so beautiful. ❞

❝ it hated me: hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am. ❞

❝ lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories. ❞

❝ oh good, you’re still here! ❞

❝ reviewers absolutely grilled it: said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means. ❞

❝ i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches ❞

❝ i told her, tonight. ❞

❝ for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything. ❞

❝ i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one. ❞

❝ i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night. ❞

❝ i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing. ❞

❝ i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that. ❞

❝ unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either. ❞

❝ i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find. ❞

❝ it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least. ❞

❝ your place is waiting for you. ❞

❝ yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know? one day at a time. ❞

❝ oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh? think you can freak me out? ❞

❝ trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off… ❞

❝ and tell my sister i'm sorry. ❞

❝ oh god, it's cold. ❞

❝ the night sky really is beautiful out here. ❞

❝ tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar. ❞

❝ i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now. ❞

❝ it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all. ❞

❝ can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do. ❞

❝ i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case. ❞

❝ god, these things smell of weed. ❞

❝ yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know? ❞

❝ [name] is dead. that's all there is to it. ❞

❝ no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day. ❞

❝ a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars. ❞

❝ my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law. ❞

❝ personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them. ❞

❝ damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway. ❞

❝ well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image. ❞

❝ i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went. ❞

❝ i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic. ❞

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #starters #rp starters #* sentences.#* meme.#sheridan

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the-chick-of-the-air · 3 years

Text

Ink On My Skin

Written for Jurdannet Roulette. Thank you to @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels for hosting. Written in league with my revel/romantics anonymous group @acciomanorian @the-chick-of-the-air @ironicallyanemic

We used the prompts Soulmates, "I know you", and our own take on empath to come up with our own franken-prompt. It's a soulmate AU where whatever character A writes on their skin will appear on character B's skin and vice versa.

Beautiful Edit by @ironicallyanemic

Series: Part 1 of Ink On My Skin

Chapter 3

Cardan. Here?

I itch to grab a pen nub, a quill. Anything I can write with and start drawing on my skin, only to watch it vanish.

I think it might be foolish that it has become a sort of habit.

Rather, I grab the tray out of the servant’s hands and storm my way into the study. Cardan may be here, he may be in part a ruler of these lands but this is my house. I have the power- however little- to get him tossed out.

I barge into the study only to stop short.

A Greenbriar, but not Cardan.

Dain.

I have made a mistake.

He remarks on my actions, how I must be in a rush. Fear is pricking at my senses and I have to hold back from grabbing the quill off the desk.

Foolish, foolish habit.

I sink into a low bow, hoping he finds me clumsy only. My thoughts race. Could his being here be Cardan’s doing?

My skin burns. I want it covered in ink.

I swallow my fear and stumble through an introduction, offering him the wine I’d taken from the servant. We exchange a few words. Conversation. He wants conversation. I want to scribble on my skin, watch it fade away like my body absorbs it. I can’t wonder about where it goes right now.

I rub at the missing tip of my finger instead.

When I tell Dain that, no, none of his brothers are causing me trouble, he finds me fascinating. Mortals can lie. He says. He’s never seen it up close, he says. He wants me to be his little liar. He doesn’t say.

But it’s what he wants.

When I ask him why he’s made an appearance, what he wants here, he answers my question with a question.

What do I want? Something I have always wanted, never dared speak.

I want to say “make me immortal” before I feel myself cringing. I don’t want to want that.

It occurs to me I could ask that whenever I write on my skin, it stays on my skin. For my words to finally be mine and mine alone. But then that would lead him to question who receives the runaway ink. I’m not stupid. Oriana told us what it was like to have a soulmate. I just don’t know who lurks on the other side.

I try to keep from recoiling when I ponder the fact that they might be dead. I’ve never received anything from them.

It might be worse if they’ve been ignoring me all this time.

Before I can let my thoughts spiral, before I lose control and throw myself at that quill, I say, “I want to be able to resist enchantment.”

It feels like it shouldn’t be this easy. A Prince has waltzed into my home and offered me my greatest desires and for what?

Ah. He wants a spy. My heart can sink through the floorboards but I won't let it show. He explains there will be room for growth, for freedom, for power once he is crowned High King.

Foolish habits. I clench my fists to keep from tracing letters on my skin.

I accept. What more could I want at the moment? At least now I’ll be going somewhere.

He grants me a Geas, awesome. With the catch that he can still enscroll me. Less awesome.

Dinner is a quiet and proper affair without Vivi there and by the time I am done arguing with Taryn on our way up to bed, I am ready to pour my feelings out onto my skin.

I remember the first time it happened. How I thought it was the potion in the bottle that made the marks disappear. I know better now. The day I revealed what the “magic ink” could do… I think that’s the closest I’ve ever seen Oriana come to happiness for me.

I throw myself down into the chair at my vanity. I pick up a quill and dip it in ink.

I doubt anyone is actually getting these notes, these messages. That is why I am so comfortable with bleeding my feelings out onto my skin as though I am a living diary to be filled. It makes me feel better, writing out my thoughts. And maybe the thought that there might be someone out there, sharing in my troubles, well…

I shake my head and put ink to skin.

~.~

I am now a spy for Prince Dain.

Knighthood was my dream, my future, my solidified place in this forsaken land. Losing it would have broken a lesser mind, and I could hardly stand the thought of having no clear path before me, but this…this power. This station within the court is the next best thing.

I cannot say what will come of this, and I cannot imagine what my first task will be, but it is a start to something.

I have sworn to be the greatest. So even in the shadows, I will outshine them all.

I can barely transcribe the letters fast enough. They are excited, nervous maybe, whoever they are.

“I have sworn to be the greatest” I know exactly who that sounds like but I dare not let myself even consider the possibility. It’s already too much. My every thought, action, dream and nightmare. They are already filled with her.

It’s nearly enough to make even me sick. I pride myself- secretly- on the fact that I am no infidel. Not when I have committed myself to someone.

When I was with Nicasia, I was hers alone, even though some part of me knew I… that there was…is someone on the other side of this soulmate bond.

Being with Nicasia had been a prize I had won. Somehow she had seen me and seen something in me she wanted for herself.

Her infidelity came as such a strong blow, I almost wondered if there was in fact a method to this soulmate madness. If Nicasia wasn’t mine to keep, if whoever was on the other side of these inked messages was the one I was supposed to be with…

I suppose, in a sense, I did feel like I was cheating someone, somehow, even if I was sure for the longest time that whoever had written that first message was long gone. Dead, most likely. But then the constant scribbling upon my arms and sometimes thighs would only serve as a striking reminder that whatever I’d had with the fish princess was never going to last.

I don’t know how I ended up deciding to make a habit of recording everything they wrote, but I can hardly stop now. It’s a daily routine, an addiction. Not unlike my taste for faerie wine and a certain pair of angry auburn eyes.

I want to rub the stress out of my eyes but then I might miss something being written. It’s the same everyday now. Whoever is on the other side ends their day with writing about it.

One would think I’d have enough information at this point to figure out who it is that’s writing all this, all so suddenly. But they have never given their name, their place, nothing.

Or perhaps they have and whatever cruel magic that drives these bonds has decided it would be funny to withhold such information from me.

They have stopped writing for the night. The ink fades away as quickly as it appeared and I am left with the copy I have made, drying in a thick parchment heavy book that I have used to record every sentence, every word for weeks now. I sigh as I shove it back into its place on my bookshelf next to my copy of Alice in Wonderland. I try not to think of the piece of parchment I have hidden in there, of what name is scratched out over and over again on it.

Madness. All of it.

Perhaps one day I will find who it is that lurks on the other side of our bond. Perhaps I might even come to like them. For now, I climb into bed and try not to grieve the fact that they are nothing more than ink on my skin.

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crimson-dxwn · 3 years

Text

AT ODDS 6 (Kal Skirata x F!OC)

Summary: Tea gets spilled at Kyrimorut. Ordo gets involved. Ori makes a choice and a new enemy.

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one), medical shit, surgery, fucking SADS

As always, so many thanks to @detroitbydark who lets me screech about my weird fic and Kal and Ori! Also this is barely edited be kind, I’m on my psych rotation and barely scraping by.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kal realizes he’s slipped the figurine into the pocket of his bodysuit semi-consciously in his hasty retreat from the apartment. Knotted Jonah wood whittled smooth forms two stylized figures, one large and one small, their hands joined between them.

He barely registers the ride back home and comming Mij. They need a plan, and they need one fast if they are going to find her. He knows little about how the Empire treats their prisoners compared to the late Republic, but he isn’t about to have any illusions of honor or fair play. After all, he doesn’t play fair himself. But there’s a hydrospanner thrown into the mix. What he doesn’t know is how the Imps treat prisoners with … unique health conditions. Or if they even give half a bantha’s shebs. Odds are they send men and women alike to those osik’la camps he’s gotten word of. Yeah, the Empire was equal opportunity like that.

If Mereel can’t slice into the system remotely, they were going to have to do an old-fashioned infiltration. He’d ask his ad’ike if they were up to task, there’s no way he could ask to put them in danger, not after the entirety of their lives being war. It hurts him to even think about asking. But he has to do this, even if it’s just his sorry shebs.

He tries to put on a good Sabaac face when he’s back in the karyai, discreetly gathering up all the surplus weapons they have that he finds might be useful for an infiltration into a heavily armed and fortified position.

Mereel of course, catches on within minutes.

“You’re going to find her,” Mereel interrupts. Kal yanks his head up out of the gun locker to look at his son. “And you didn’t even think to ask for backup?”

His son’s tone is accusing, edging on hurt. That he did not expect.

“It’s my fuckup, son,” he replies, “I’m the one who needs to fix it. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“What’s so special about this doctor?” Mereel slams the door of the locker shut. It’s obvious his ad’ika is protective. They all are.

“She delivered your ba’vodu’ad, Mereel. I’m pretty sure she saved Parja’s life.” Kal says, keeping his eyes on his work, cleaning the weapons, arranging the ammo he needs. Sharpening his father’s three-sided knife.

“And that’s enough to go up against the Empire? ”

He’s going to have to spit it out. Mereel is looking at him expectantly, sure that he’s going to change his mind, see reason.

“She’s pregnant, son.” Mereel, who has been away for the events of the last few months, just stares back at him in a puzzled fashion, brows slightly furrowed. Looking at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Maybe he has.

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

In comes a second voice, and the accusatory tone startles him enough that, when added to his baseline urgency and anxiety, causes his hand to slip and nick itself as he sharpens his knife.

“Osik,” he hisses, holding pressure to the cut as blood wells, looking up to the figure in the doorway. Ordo. Mereel stares at his brother, unsure whether he is joking. Kal sighs. He should know better, trying to keep things from them. The last time he was successful at that was when they were four.

“Does it matter?”

“Maybe,” Ordo replies, just this edge of indignant, “is she carrying my vod?”

A strange and protective piece of him flares at Ordo’s tone and Kal stands, still holding the cloth to his cut hand.

“Most likely.”

“Then we need to get her back.” Ordo meets his eye finally and Kal nods, satisfied, and starts gathering ammo from the safes. This time Mereel moves to help, still in a rare state of stunned silence.

By the time they’ve gathered what they need and loaded it into aayhan, Mereel has a willing team assembled and what they know of the building schematics up on a datapad in the karyai. Fortunately for them, the team won’t be breaking into any prison blocks, which are bound to be heavily guarded.

“All we have to do is get into the information security room that houses the main terminal,” Mereel starts confidently. “We can stay far away from the security blocks and the bucketheads.”

“Though it would be fun to bust some vode out of there,” Scorch adds.

“Not our mission,” says Mereel, regret plain in his voice, “we’ll have to get them another time.” The realization that they were leaving prisoners at the mercy of the empire sobers the group even more. It was becoming more and more apparent that more planning was needed before they could root out the Empire on Mandalore. Meanwhile, Kal had set Uthan to the task of trying desperately to make their own homebrew vaccine.

---

It’s been many many years since he’s fastroped. Lately, he has been finding that it’s been years since he’s done many things. Fastroping, underwater diving...fathering kriffing kids. He swallows, hard and regroups himself. Every single one of them needs to be focused if they’re gonna pull this job off.

Yes, he’s fast roped before. But he’s never liked it. Where his sons get twitchy when confined to tight spaces, he finds himself sweating more than usual under his beskar the more stories they climb. Right now, they’re about ten stories up, far above the sensors of the garrison and way above his tolerance for heights. They have about a minute to pull this off before the Imps realize this transport is lingering too long in their airspace.

Mereel, Sev, Scorch, and Kal are in Aayhan, hovering silently above the Keldabe imperial garrison in the inky black late summer night. The humidity sticks his tactical garments to his skin, making it itch and crawl in addition to his surging adrenaline. That was one thing that never changed, no matter how old he got, no matter how many missions he’s finished - that nauseating spike of pure fear and bliss.

He gives the signal to move move move and soon he’s roping down, strong north Mandalorian wind whipping around him, soaking through his underlayer. The four of them land silently on the roof of the compound, and Scorch starts laying a strip charge along the floor to create a hole leading below, straight into the admin offices. Four sets of Mando armor gleam lowly in the moonlight. It’s a perfect night for an op like this, whipping wind obscuring any slight noise they did make and the faint whine of aayhan’s engines. The charges detonate with a controlled bang and flash of bright light that briefly blinds his HUD. Kal switches to night vision.

*His child*. It’s barely a concrete concept in his mind yet, but an instinctual piece of him knows the truth. The timing is too perfect for him to be wrong. The way Orla had looked at him in the med center…

The stakes are too high to fail, and distracting thoughts get men killed. Mereel leads the way through the door, rifle at the ready, and Kal banishes his musings to the back of his mind, pushed away by a fresh rush of adrenaline. It’s a stealth mission, and they navigate by night vision, as silently as their boots will allow.

They stalk through dark quiet hallways lined with innocuous office doors until they reach the end, what is presumably the CO’s office, with its durasteel double doors and obviously larger size.

Mereel starts in on slicing the door panel while Sev shoots out the camera in the hallway corner while the rest of them listen for any approaching patrols. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed they were there, whether it was the hole in the roof or the blacked out camera. The double doors open quietly and they head inside. Vau’s boys guard the door while he and Mereel crowd the desk in the middle of the room.

“I need a few minutes to get into this,” Mereel says, eyes locked onto the screen before him. One of his slicing tools is between his teeth.

“You’ll get it, son. We’ll take care of anything that tries to get in our way.”

So far it looks like no one has noticed them. The imps must really be confident in the plan to neutralize Mandalore with so few guards and patrols. Sweat drops trickle down the back of his neck and into his bodysuit.

Mereel studies the datapad stripping the system for a few more moments and turns it towards Kal. There’s a concerned look stretched across his handsome face. Together the watch the recorded scene on the screen before them.

There’s Orla, still in her work clothes, talking with an Imp who’s behind this very desk, flanked by two stormtroopers. He knows those gestures - she’s spitting mad, barely containing the fury that was directed toward the man behind the desk. Without audio he can only guess as to the contents of their conversation. The Imp behind the desk gives a short reply and nods curtly to the right-hand trooper who, without hesitation, raises his blaster rifle and cracks her across the face with the butt end. She doesn’t even see it coming. Even in the shades of blue from the holoprojector the blood is obvious, trickling down the side of her face.

Kal is livid, trembling so finely it’s barely visible, and he almost forgets where they are for a moment. Deep in enemy territory, with hostiles incoming any minute.

Mereel makes a disgusted noise from deep in his chest as they watch her be pushed to the ground. They follow the video feed where she’s led to a cell. His breath catches. There’s a chance she’s still here. His hope is tempered, however, when an alarm starts to sound from within the garrison. A patrol must have finally found their breach point.

“Sarge?” warns a voice from outside the door. It’s Sev, by the gravelly tone.

“Almost finished,” he shouts, over the screeching din. Mereel continues to work furiously, his bulk hunched over the console. He’s able to parse through incredible amounts of data with immense precision; Kal can practically feel the concentration rolling off him.

“Wait,” Mereel says. Kal looks over at the screen. They’re centered on a video feed again, this time outside. The sheer amount of prisoners in line for the transport is shocking enough, but the fact that none of them are in armor is even more appalling. The Imps are slowly stripping their culture away, plate by plate.

“She’s not on the manifest for this transport, even though the records say she leaves.”

It doesn’t make sense. Unless… Kal knows Mereel must be thinking the same as him. Judging by the brutality of the footage they’ve watched, the stories from around the planet, he wouldn’t put it past the Empire to take care of a pesky problem in the easiest way they knew how. It wasn’t something that supposedly peaceful, orderly governments liked to keep records of. His dread and guilt intensifies, leadening his limbs already weighed down by heavy beskar.

He chokes the words out. He has to know. “Is there any footage of…” Kal can’t bring himself to say them. It doesn’t need to be said, Mereel knows what he’s looking for. He’s been in a war zone long enough to know that armies aren’t sentimental.

“No, no footage. Just them leading her away.” The alarm continues to blare. It could be minutes, seconds before they have to blast their way out.

“Here.”

Kal steels himself to watch. It’s his fault, he reminds himself again. Two more fresh marks in his ledger. His arm reaches automatically to his son’s to steady himself. He feels Mereel’s slump ever so slightly, whether it’s in relief or defeat, he can’t tell.

“I have what I need,” he says, “time to go. Debrief can wait for later.” Distant footsteps start to echo towards them, modulated shouts following close behind. They were about to be grossly outnumbered, by the sound of it. Kal shoves his helmet back on, heading through the doorway and signaling Sev and Scorch to follow.

They wind through the garrison, avoiding both patrols and squads of stormtroopers sweeping the building. It’s laughably easy compared some of the other heists they’ve pulled - except he speaks too soon. As they make their way out of the back door of the garrison onto the Keldabe streets, one squad catches up to them. Ordo has aayhan back at Kyrimorut - earlier they had decided it was too risky for the four of them to fly home and possibly expose the homestead. So instead their plan was to run the winding streets and strategically borrow a transport. The problem is that Kal is pushing sixty and the other men are - physiologically at least - still in their early twenties. They’re a lot kriffing faster than him, even with his ankle fixed.

The streets and alleys twist and turn, switching from ancient cobbles to smooth duracrete without warning. Easy enough to get lost if you’re a local, they are impossible to navigate as aruettiise. Soon the four are panting, ducked into an alcove off a cobbled alley. Finally, it seems they’ve dodged the patrol. Only time will tell if they were recognized. Kal finds he doesn’t much mind if they know his face. In fact, he hopes they do. He wants to meet that garrison officer.

-------

Imperial Rehabilitation Center

Weeks later

19 BBY

Life isn’t all doom and gloom. They are kept...occupied. Like rats in a maze. Ori shares a bunk with another Mandalorian, the only other there. Taren is a kid really, small and slight except for her distended belly. It’s obvious she’s used to wearing armor by the way she walks, how upright she holds herself, arms swaying slightly away from her body. And how she closes in on herself when she realizes it’s not there, when it’s nighttime in their room and thinks Ori can’t hear her sob breathlessly into her pillow every night.

It’s almost childish, the way they’re herded from room to room. Chaperoned and on a schedule, like one would handle a naughty child needing extra discipline. It was how she imagines Coruscanti boarding schools some of her medical school classmates attended - polished stone floors and crisp uniforms, all strict routines and synchronized repetition. It’s meant to numb the mind, making days run into weeks. She suspects they’re kept intentionally disoriented. After all, most of them are still political prisoners, and many she’s found have important connections on their respective homeworlds.

They’re at lunch, scattered around their assigned tables. Generously, they are allowed to converse during meals, though their seats remain assigned. The ‘rehab center’ has proven to be much more expansive than she expected - some rooms are swallowingly large, like the one she is in now, and some are as small as a broom closet, connected by narrow winding hallways. The building itself could have been any number of things in a past life - a school, factory, or prison. She supposes it doesn’t matter much now. Today there’s a newcomer, sitting quiet and sullen at a back table with the Corellians. Time would tell if she was one of them or if she hailed from a different world.

An arm jostles her, hitting her square in the ribs. It successfully knocks her out of her analysis of the newcomer.

“-did you hear what I just said?” Taren says, mouth full of tasteless nutritional paste. It’s far from delicious, but you ate what they give out and she is hungry *all the time* nowadays. A fleck lands on Ori’s face and she wipes it away with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, al’verde.” Commander. Her eyes roll automatically. She knows she doesn’t deserve the title. Discreetly, Ori shushes the younger woman - they’re lucky the stormtroopers here don’t understand Mando’a.

They put together kit for new stormtroopers, morning and night. It’s another endurable humiliation. She stabs at the cubes bitterly with her spoon, scattering crumbs across the table. They’re not allowed forks or knives, not after Taren’s first week. A tiny smile flits across her face as she thinks on the memory.

Ori feels like a geriatric compared to the spry warrior, though they’re less than ten years apart in age. She’s seen things in that time, lost people, buried dreams. Though Taren is looking older and older by the day, cooped up in this place.

“Theera is gone,” Taren says, “she wasn’t at breakfast either.”

Looking around and finding no sign of the woman, Ori hums an agreement. She’ll be gone for good soon, and her baby as well. Every time someone delivers it sends a sense of unshakeable dread down her spine and into the pit of her stomach. All of them are marching slowly towards that finish line.

The artificial hierarchy into which they are forced has made the two Mandalorians de facto leaders, despite Ori being one of the newer inmates and to cement her as *alverde*; her medical expertise makes her invaluable.

The room hushes as Dr. Loesch sweeps down to the cafeteria, all business in crisp grey scrubs, so confident in his admiration. He insists they call him ‘Doctor L’ like he’s a popular lecturer at a university. He’s the worst kind of hut’uun, just as bad as the rest of the Imps she’s met here. Loesch is in charge of their medical care, all 100-some of them, including herself. Loesch towers over most of them, even herself.

As a physician, Ori is personally insulted at his complacency, the fact that he is perfectly content in his post and cemented in his belief that what he was doing is just, his complicity. She stabs at her cubes some more to try and make herself feel better.

As a woman, she’s decidedly less surprised. Men like him are everywhere, tall and handsome, handed success on a silver platter, born into families of privilege and power. Taking and taking with no thought of the carnage they leave behind.

He saunters his way over to their table and sits with a charming smile.

“Beviin,” he starts, “I heard through the gossip chain that you were an obstetrician before you came here?”

It’s physically painful to keep her retort in hand. She’s been here long enough to see women sent to solitary. And to see them come back, changed indefinitely.

“Mmm,” she mumbles affirmatively through a mouthful of cubes. She swallows. “Yes.” Keep it simple, that’s easy enough.

He smiles sardonically. “How ironic,” he adds, obviously pleased with the revelation. Expectantly, he looks around the table to gauge his joke, and they catch on, laughing softly, nervously, afraid of what might happen if they don’t. Even Ori joins in, the butt of the low blow, though her simmering rage ratchets up another level.

They finish the rest of their lunch largely in silence and Loesch pulls her away when she files out with the others.

“Ms. Beviin,” he says conspiratorially, “I know it must be difficult for you to be here.”

The man over her, face too close for comfort, his voice deep and low. Alarm fills her as the other people in the room dwindle until it’s just the two of them and the scattered troopers on the upper level. All Ori can think about is where the nearest exit is located when she realizes he’s still speaking to her.

“...what do you think?” He waits patiently, a benevolent expression in his face. He blinks too little, she thinks, and his eyes are devoid of expression, shining with an amused sort of malevolence. They’re a strange shade of brown...no, green? The little noise he makes in the back of his throat brings her back to their conversation.

“Ah...sure?” she replies weakly, stunned and frozen.

“That’ll be nice for the other inmates,” he says. Incredibly white, straight teeth flash as he smiles down at her. “I think it will give them comfort to have you there. I’ll have the guards collect you when it’s time.”

——

Three nurses eye her from across the suite. They wear sweet matching hospital uniforms, in the same soft fabric as hers except in a delicate petal pink. With a pang, she misses her fellow nurses and doctors on Mandalore. Who knows how many had fallen ill? Been arrested? The way they clustered in a little group reminded her of her schoolmates, when they found out she didn’t like fighting, whispering rumors from across the room. That she thought she was better than them, that weird girl who was more concerned with grades than winning fights and impressing boys. Now they stand across the room from her like a little bunch of flowers in their coordinated outfits, identical and perfect. She’s an other in their world, someone to be feared and hated, pitied at best.

Orla stands awkwardly, waiting for the show to start when her stomach flips. The scrub top she has on stretches across her middle awkwardly, pulling at the seams and the soft shoes that cover her feet are obscured by her bump. The strange sensation returns, a little differently this time, just the barest flutter, deeper down than that nervous feeling. Her baby. She lays a gentle palm over the swell, as discreetly as she can, still feeling the scrutinizing looks of the women across the room.

Another nurse wheels a bed into the room, complete with Theera shivering atop it, her hair and gown drenched in sweat. Orla rushes to the head of the bed as she’s prepped for the operation. Theera is dazed, too exhausted to make much sense of anything right now, glassy eyes focused on the ceiling. She smoothes back the sweaty hair from Theera’s forehead.

“Hey cyar’ika. It’s Ori,” she says softly. The woman’s eyes focus a little, just enough to meet hers. She bumps their foreheads together. It was as much to comfort herself as much as the other woman. Non-mandos typically didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. She can’t squeeze her hand like she wants to - it’s being hooked up to IV tubing.

“I’m cold,” she mumbles. Some of it is adrenaline, some from fear, and the rest from the icy operating room temperature to keep the surgeons comfortable. Drenched as she is, it’s no wonder Theera is shivering.

Ori asks the wary tech for a warm blanket, terrified of overstepping and getting her shebs kicked out of the operating room. She’s promptly ignored in favor of his work. Dr. Loesch enters the room and the nurses titter around him while he ensures everything is prepped to his liking. Ori settles for as much skin to skin contact as she can get with Theera, trying to warm her, mumbling comforting nonsense into her ear as Loesch starts to work. A warming bassinet waits ominously against the wall for its prize.

A thin cry interrupts their mumbling and Theera’s eyes sharpen at the noise. Loesch holds the little thing over the curtain separating them indulgently, just for a moment. A boy, he says, and she and Theera find themselves mesmerized by the bloody little thing and his tiny squished face and flailing arms, already so angry at the world. He’s held up for a second, allowing Theera a cursory glance and then whisked away by the nurses to the bassinet. His mother is still paralyzed on the table and it makes it all the more unjust that she isn’t even allowed to touch her son, see him up close. The nurses at the bassinet laugh and coo, oblivious to Theera, who starts weeping pitifully. Fat tears slide down the side of her face, wetting the starched white sheet beneath her head.

Ori is in the middle of the absolute emotional chaos around her. Theera crying, Dr. Loesch talking with his assistant about weekend plans, and the nurses with the baby, who have turned back at the sound of crying to glare at them judgementally. She can practically hear them now. Serves her right, their looks say. She deserves it. The rage congeals around Ori, settling itself in her throat. This feeling is exactly what had put her in this place to begin with and she knows she has to control it, use it somehow. She watches them place a little bracelet around the infant’s ankle and scan it into a datapad. They don’t bother with Theera. It dawns on her then that if she’s lucky - incredibly lucky - she can use the Empire’s obsession with order against them.

She makes her way over to the bassinet under the ruse of joining the indulgent cooing that is going on, trying not to throw elbows before she’s kicked out of the room. The little boy’s leg is caught for a heel stick an she gets her chance. The number on the leg band is just visible, only for a second. She sends a prayer up to the Manda that she gets it right.

Taglist

@clonewarslover55 @simping-for-fives @808tsuika @jedi-mando @cherry-cokes-world @nelba @fractiouskat @passionofthesith

#PHEW THIS SUCKED TO WRITE UGH #how do people write long chaps like goddamn I'm drained and this took MONTHS #i suck basically lol #At Odds #Republic Commando #Kal Skirata

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dreamiguess · 3 years

Text

FWT Week Day 1: Winter Ball

@fundyfiles ‘s FundyWasTaken week except I start a day late and had to write in a Starbucks. editing provided by MicrosoftWord

Day One: Winter Ball Word Count: 1.5k On ao3

1. Winter ball - Its Harry Potter au

“Wha?”

Jack rolls his eyes and lowers his hand. Fundy has no clue how long he had been talking to him while he was zoned out.

“I was talking,” he says sharply, “about Yule. Can you help set up?”

Of course. Jack was probably tying to recruit everyone he could, and if he was asking Fundy, he’d run out of underclassmen to bother. No one wanted to sacrifice their time that they would be getting ready to enchanting decorations or moving furniture in the great hall. He falls back into the armchair, looking at him sideways.

“C’mon, you’re great at charms. You could cut the amount of time it’d take in half,” Jack goads. He looks ready to start pleading. Fundy sighs.

“Fine. But because you’re my friend,” he relents. A grin stretches across the Hufflepuff’s face, like if he smiled any more his face would crack, like he’d leap across the desk to hug him.

“Good man! Are you planning on going?”

“Haven’t secured a date yet,” He groans, dropping his quill and giving up on doing any homework for afternoon.

“Neither do I, but not what I asked. Are you planning on going?”

Fundy’s mind wanders to blonde hair and a lopsided smile. It’s been doing that a lot, recently.

“I’d certainly like to.” Jack smiles again, something secretive. He’s a good friend and a better organizer, and he deserved his student council position more than anyone. It’s a shame he always has to fight for it. He probably works twice as hard as anyone to make things, like the Yule Ball, happen, and happen well. Not to mention the fact that he probably holds half their year’s impulse control. Sharp as a tack as well, apparently.

Doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be a dick about Fundy’s crush, even if he didn’t know who it was.

“I’m thinking about asking George, just for the meme,” he replies, and maybe Fundy is safe from prodding or teasing. Maybe.

“You don’t think he’ll be going with Dream? Or Sapnap?” he considers for a moment, “Or Dream and Sapnap?” He hopes he sounds casual, but he’s treading carefully. The answer is going to be yes, of course it is. They’re too good friends to do anything else. There’s a spark of hope somewhere, though, and Jack would know more than himself. Or make a better guess, not being…Biased.

“I don’t know,” he answers, slowly. “Sapnap’s going with Karl. And Dream?” He pauses again, really selling the act, before looking Fundy straight in the eye. “I think Dream might want to go with someone else.”

Sharp as a tack, and too kind to tease. Just breathe gently on the spark, try to coax it into a flame.

Ravenclaw and Slytherin have Astronomy: Planets, Orbits, and their place in the universe together. Fundy took it because it was so late he could fit it into his schedule. Dream took it because he loves space, had worked his way through all the courses before this one. It suited him. And maybe it suited Fundy too, to watch him with stars in his eyes. To study the worlds unattainable.

Soon enough the professor is ending class and students are packing up their telescopes, quiet with exhaustion, and filling towards the stairs. Personally, he hates waiting a slow moving line down stairs that would not stand up to muggle safety codes, so he takes his time packing up and making small talk with their teacher. Dream seems to be holding back too, nudging George and gesturing towards the stairs. Probably telling him to go ahead.

There’s a part of him he thinks, that’s always aware of Dream.

And then he does something unexpected and walks directly towards Fundy. He suppressed the urge to smooth out his robes or run a hand through his hair. In a mirror image to Dream earlier, he nudges Niki to go on without him.

“Do you have a sec?” he asks, telescope slung over his shoulder and textbook clutched to his chest. Fundy almost wishes he asked Niki to stay to make it less personal than a one-on-one.

“Yeah, what’s up?” It comes out slightly slurred and he cringes internally. He’s more tired than he thought, apparently.

“I know this is weird because we’re not in the same house or anything, and you can totally say know, but I was wondering if you could help me out with transfiguration? I think you took Inanimates last year.” He had, actually, taken Inanimates last year. Got an A* and everything, but its odd that Dream knows that. Maybe the professor had recommended him? She should have recommended within the house, though. The last person must have said no, then.

“Yeah, sure. Library?”

“Not right now, idiot.”

“Friday?”

“Friday is good. Couple hours before dinner?” Fundy nods, closing his eyes for a beat. Friday. It gives him time to prepare, and not just transfiguration notes.

“See you then.” Dream smiles at him, lopsided and honest, and encourages him through the door ahead of him. The descent is awkward in the way of going the same direction after saying goodbye, even if they hadn’t formally ended their conversation. To be honest with himself, Fundy was probably creating his own discomfort with the help of anxiety. They ofbviously knew they would have to follow each other. They obviously knew there was only one staircase. Yet here he is, anxious about how he steps down, how fast (slow?) he’s going, how his hair looks from behind. But the staircase ends, and so does his decline into madness. He can speed to Ravenclaw Tower to freak out on his own.

They pause at the end, regard each other for a moment.

“I’ll see you on Friday, then,” Fundy breathes out, forcing his hands to stay in his pockets.

“Thursday, actually, Potions,” Dream corrects with a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d forgotten about that.

“Thursday.” Fundy turns to walk away, but Dream stops him.

“Can I walk you back?” he blurts out. “You look dead on your feet, I’d hate you to pass out in a corner somewhere before you make it to bed.”

Fundy prays he’s not blushing. Dream isn’t wrong, it’s been a long week. Every week is a long week these days, with a packed schedule and club leadership. It’s kind of him to notice.

“Sure, if you want. It’s kinda in the opposite direction from the dungeons though, so you really shouldn’t bother.”

He bothers.

He does more than bother. Takes his telescope right out of his hands and refuses to give it back and waits to make sure Fundy can solve his riddle. As the staircase slides open, all Fundy can do is wave shyly and listen to the other’s footfalls fade away.

Friday rolls around fast. Too fast, maybe. Fundy gets to the library early, paces in front of the doors to expend some of his jittery energy. They hadn’t actually agreed on where in the library, so here he was, waiting and breathing into his unsettle stomach.

Apparently Dream wanted to be early as well because soon enough he’s fading into view, Sapnap in tow. He punches Dream in the arm when they finally catch sight of them, Dream shoving him away in turn. He nods at Fundy in greeting but keeps going, leaving the pair alone again. He must have been outside because his cheeks are stained in rose.

“Study room?”

“Nah, it looks gorgeous out. Let’s go to the lake.”

“Dude! It’s gotta be like, 7 degrees out there,” he protests. Dream stares at him.

“You could cast a warming charm in your sleep.”

Oh. Yeah. Dream doesn’t give him time to argue, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the entrance hall. He barely has time to mumble an incantation before being caught in the whirlwind that is a delighted Dream on a mission.

It starts snowing half an hour in, leaving wet spots on their parchment like tears. He’s itching for an I told you so but Dream launches himself off the ground before he gets a chance, escaping their tree’s limited shelter into the flurry. He tosses his head back and flings his arms wide, letting his eyes close and smile grow bright. He’s a vision. Black robes stand out again the grey winter scene, with snow slowly decorating his shoulders like stars. The green at his neck is like a spot of Spring when the flora has long since wilted and the trees are bare. When he turns back towards Fundy there are flakes stuck in his eyelashes. He aches.

“I know it’s just snow,” he explains, bashfulness unable to dull him, “but I never got it back home. I saw it for the first time at Hogwarts.” He raises his shoulders towards his ears, “back in first year.”

His mouth moves without his permission.

“Go to Yule Ball with me?”

Dream smiles impossibly wider, smiles with his whole face, his whole chest.

“Merlin yes.”

#fundywastaken #fwtweek2021 #fwt #my writing #listen #i have a huge soft spot for fwt #is this was i should have worked on today? no #did i read any of this? also no #bone ap the teeth #also not really creative i was aiming for speed #say thank you bill gates

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jae-daddy · 4 years

Text

magic

draco malfoy fanfic

two / three / four / five / six

they said i did something bad. then whys it feel so good? forgive me, jaebum for i have sinned. i dont even know if this is a joke at this point... oh lord

pairing: draco malfoy x reader genre: shifting realities, romance, a whole fucking joke as clown shit plot: you were trying to shift realities for the lols but end up in actual harry potter world and meet Draco Malfoy, who ends up helping you, and you are also a filthy muggle. an: i dont know. i dont know. i dont know. not edited

_____________________________________________

"Who are you?” He asked, looking over to you from the edge of his bed. Predictably his whole room was black and the darkest shade of green; he sure did have house pride.

But he sure as hell was terrifying too.

You didn’t think it’ll work. You didn’t know it would work this well. You thought it’d be a mini trip, like a daydream or something. This isn’t what you had imagined.

You were actually there.

You felt the warmth of his room, you felt the thickness of the air. The smell of his cologue hanging in the air, mixed with something else almost chocking you. Your toes felt the hard floor beneath your feet.

This couldn’t have worked.

“Are you deaf?” The white haired villan smirked at you, he wasn’t scared. Why would he be; this was his house, his room. “I asked what your name is?”

“My name is y/n,” you blurted, your head still trying to wrap around what was happening. You tried saying something else, but you were stammering, your throat closing around your voice.

“Y/n.” He repeated, a permanent sneer on his face. He gently threw the book in his hand, and began walking towards to you. He was graceful, etheral; taking his time with every action.

You stood there, in the middle of his room. Your palms sweaty, your heart racing, and your throat running dry.

“And what are you doing here?” He gave a chilling smile, making icy claws run down your back.

“I-” you tried to answer, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t find the words, and your eyes began burning with threatening tears.

You were just trying to shift realities as a joke. You thought it would be like a dream. This wasn’t a dream.

You knew it wasn’t.

It was real, and you were here.

Draco Malfoy was standing infront of you. You were in his room, in his mansion.

And then another thought hit you, making you feel sick.

You were going to die.

He snorted as he stopped in front of you. His fingers wrapping around his wand placed on his waist.

You choked back the sob that was threatening to escape.

“How did you get into my room?” He placed the cool tip under your chin, making you look into his icy cold eyes. He was goregoues.

Draco Malfoy was beautiful, and he was going to kill you.

“Answer me.” His jaw locked in anger, and you almost fell onto his feet to beg for your life.

“I shifted,” you managed through your stuttering words. “I shifted realities.

“I didn’t know it would be like this though,” you moved away from his wand, and settled on his armchair before your weakened knees gave away. “I swear, it was not meant to be like this. I was still supposed to be at home.”

Maybe if you end it you’ll go back.

You tried to think of ways to end it. You clapped three times.

“Take me back!” Nothing.

“End!” Nothing.

“Please end this, take me back.” You prayed, but nothing.

Draco looked at you, terrified.

“What are you doing?” He asked you, getting your attention. “What do you mean shifting realities?”

“It’s this trend on tiktok-”

“Tiktok?” His very british accent made you smile a little. “What is that?”

“Its an app, and there is that whole side that is dedicated to you-”

“What are you babbling on about?” He cut you off, his eyes blazing now. He strided over to you, and you shrunk in your seat.

“Draco,” you breathed, and his eyes widened.

“How do you know my name?” But then it turned into an angry sneer as he clicked his tongue. “You’re at my house, of course you know my name.”

“What year is this?” You gulped, looking up to Draco as he studied you.

“Don’t ask me questions.” He warned you, his voice low. “Who are you and what are you doing here? This is the last time I am asking nicely.”

You believed him.

“I am y/n, and I accidently shifted realities and ended up in Harry Potter universe.”

“Potter?” Draco hissed. “You know Potter?”

“Yeah, like I know you, Draco Malfoy.”

“But I don’t know you,” he looked at you puzzled.

“Exactly,” you breathed. “You don’t, but I know you. I’ve seen you and I know what’s happening. Just tell me what year it is.”

“Its 1988, are you mental?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” you whimpered at how stupid you were. You hadn’t even read any of the books. You’ve just seen the movies once, and then many clips of Draco. “Oh God.”

“Has the tournament thing happened?” You asked, searching for landmarks you recognised. “Has Voldemort returned?”

Draco froze at that, his eyes hardening as he took you in. You were dressed in your black joggers, black, green and white striped top, your hair messy and wild, and fuzzy pink socks on your feet.

“What are you?” he gritted from his teeth.

“A human?” you bit your lip.

He gave so much shit to Hermonine for being half-magically. You were a muggle, a normal magicless human through and through. He was going to kill you. He was going to hand you over to them.

“What academy do you attend?”

“Uh, none,” you breathed, as tears filled your eyes. “I don’t have magic.”

Draco stared at you in shock, before a sinister smile itched his lips.

“I am a muggle,” you got up from the chair, slowly moving back. Draco followed your steps, tracing you like a predator.

“Please,” you breathed as a tear fell from your eyes. “Please don’t kill me.”

He instantly stopped and frowned at that.

“Don’t hand me to them, they will kill me.”

Draco reached for his wand, and you instantly closed your eyes and thought of love.

You thought of GOT7, of Jaebum, of hot summer days by the beach, of your family, your friends. Your favourite movie, the first boy you liked, the pink flowers you could see from your window marking the beginning of spring. You thought everything that made you feel warm and happy, and hoped it was enough.

You hoped it was enough love.

“What are you doing?” He stopped and asked you. You opened your tightly squeezed eyes and looked at his cold glare.

“I was thinking of love,” you gulped, your sweaty palms a fidgetting mess.

Draco’s eyes widened as he gaped at you, the corners of his lips twitching as if he was trying to keep himself from laughing.

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” He asked in disbelief, a beautiful smile on his face despite his attempt to stop it.

Your heart stopped as butterflies erupted in your tummy. You were about to die, but you still couldn’t stop fangirling about Draco Malfoy and that beautiful smile he was giving you.

“Love, you know, it’s like the greatest magic, right?” You explained, your words stumbling out of you faster than you could register. “I’ve seen it in movies, and books! That’s how Feyre saved Tamlin the Asshole; the answer was love. It always is love. You know, love- that’s how Harry survived Voldemort.”

Draco looks at you in shock, before a deep laugh erupts from him. He throws his head back, his hands on his thighs, his wand limp, as his shoulders shook and tears filled his eyes.

“You’re a real work of art, aren’t you?” He laughed, as he looked at you through the curtain of his blonde hair. He slightly sobered and stood up, his lips still turned upwards. “I haven’t laughed that hard in so long. Thank you for that,” he smiled, and you gave him a small smile, despite your shivering heart.

“But, sorry love,” he gave you a loopsided smirk. “You’ll have to leave now.”

“I don’t know how,” you whispered at him, but his smiled just grew.

“Maybe, I can help,” he brought out his wand, most likely about to kill you.

“Ener-” Draco lifted his wand to you, when a loud knock banged against the door.

“Draco!” Lucius Malfoy called, the handle of his door jiggled.

Draco looked at your wide fear-struck eyes and then back at the door.

“How many times have I told you not to lock your door boy?”

“Evanesco!” Draco quickly whispered as he threw a blanket over you, and pushed you into his closet.

“Keep quiet.” He muttered, closing the door, just as his father walked in.

It felt as if the winter walked with Lucius Malfoy. The whole room was covered in a blanket of a spine-chilling cold as his shoes and stick clacked against the hard floor.

“Father,” Draco said, his voice calm.

“How many times have I told you not to lock your door?” Lucius slowly spoke with distaste. “Or to not wear that nonsense on your ears?”

Headphones? Your brows furrowed together.

“Sorry, Father,” was all Draco said.

“Your mother and I are going to attend a dinner of great importance,” he spoke, stopping right in front of the closet. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you stopped breathing. You were too scared to even blink. “Would you like to join us? Your company would be appreciated.”

Draco took a moment to reply, and then finally answered, “You and mother go, I have a lot to prepare for school.” Lucius must have raised an eyebrow in question.

“I want to study ahead so I can focus on other activities when Hogwarts resumes.” Draco quickly added.

After what felt like an eternity, Lucius finally said “Very well.”

And walked out.

The door clicked shut, but you didn’t move.

He waited two whole minutes before he finally moved again.

He opened the closet, and took the blanket off your head. You looked up to find Draco crouching infront you, a smirk on his lips.

“What are we to do about you now, you filthy muggle?” He asked, his lips curled in a sneer, but his eyes shone with concern and panic.

You didn’t know. You really didn’t know.

But you were happy that it didn’t seem like Draco Malfoy would be killing you anytime soon.

#draco malfoy #draco #draco x y/n #bro I don't even know #jaedaddy #I really dont know #but I just can't not #you know #this is written so bad #im just here for the ride #harry potter

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uas-fics · 3 years

Text

Title: Hop and Gloria to the Rescue!

Rating: G

Summary: Gloria and Hop are finally home for a visit after their stays in the far-off Crown Tundra and the Isle of Armor, respectively. But what's this? Someone is breaking into Hop's house!? And Leon's there alone? They have to save him!

Ships: Leon x Piers

Content Warnings: Mild spoilers for the SwSh post games and DLCs

Read on AO3

-----

"Anything but curry. Let's agree to that."

"Oh, definitely!"

Hop rubbed his stomach. "If I ever see another Max Mushroom curry in my life, it'll be too soon."

"At least the Dojo has a snack machine!" Gloria bumped into his shoulder with her own. "You know what I got to eat? Camp curry and carrots."

"So that means you got the best eyesight now, don't it?" Hop teased.

Gloria wrinkled up her nose. She moved to push Hop forward, but he dodged. She snorted. A smile played on her face.

For the last few months, the Galar continent separated the best friends, with Gloria exploring the Crown Tundra and Hop studying in the Isle of Armor. They kept in touch, of course, texting, calling,and sending pictures of interesting pokemon they saw, but none of that compared to walking and chatting with each other on their journey home to Postwick.

Both trainers had so much to tell everyone and each other.

Notebooks weighted down Hop's pack. Each one filled with notes, sketches, and photographs about the pokemon he'd been studying on the Isle of Armor. One, in particular, had a blurry photo of a black and pink bird pokemon that sped by the front of the Dojo one afternoon.

Hop already knew exactly how he would convince Gloria to help him track it down.

Gloria's pack, on the other hand, held a folder with all the notes she'd taken from her own journeys around The Crown Tundra with Peony. If the pictures of the Legendary pokemon didn't leave Hop gobsmacked, then seeing them registered in her Pokedex would!

Of course, once he knew she was tracking down Moltres somewhere in the Isle of Armor, he would have to join her.

But all that could wait until after a few days rest with their families.

Patchy clouds darkened the sun as the two crested the final hill to Postwick. Far in the distance, over the Slumbering Weald, the heavy clouds poured down. The travelers missed the deluge by less than an hour.

Gloria took a deep breath, enjoying air that didn't fill her lungs with an icy chill. Coming home a day earlier than she'd told her mum turned out to be the right idea.

Not just their families would be elated to see them. Gloria had message after message from Marnie: how she was improving her gym and the new boutique that opened near the Spikemuth pokemon center--and about The Big Secret.

Marnie had taunted her with the huge, life changing secret that was too sensitive to tell over the phone for weeks now. If Gloria wanted to know what the secret was, she would have to come to Spikmuth and hear it from Marnie face to face.

Hop ran over to a wooden fence.

"I didn't know how much I'd missed wooloo." He laughed and gestured to a herd of grazing wooloo.

One of the wooloo raised its head at the sound of his voice. It baa'ed at the two before trotting over. It butted its head against Hop's palm. Soon the rest of the herd crowded the fence line, baa-ing in delight at the attention Hop readily gave out.

"Remind me to let Dubwool out after we get home so he can talk to all his old wooloo friends. He's grown even stronger since the last time they all saw him. Master Mustard said he thinks Dubwool is getting stronger faster than even Lee’s Charizard did."

Hop scratched a wooloo under the chin. It bleated in delight.

Gloria leaned her arms on the fence. "Speaking of Leon, will he be home too? My pokemon are itching for a battle with him." She fingered the pokeballs at her belt.

If Cinderace didn't get a chance to battle Leon's Charizard, he would give Gloria the silent treatment for a week. After all the rememensing about the amazing championship battle Gloria and Leon had, Calyrex, too, wanted a good look at the former champion. Not to mention the rest of her team wanted to test their strength against the toughest trainer they knew.

Hop jumped back from the fence, much to the sorrow of the wooloo herd. "He should be. Lee told me he's been helping Mum and my grandparents around the house the last week or so."

"Well, if he's not home," Gloria punched her fist into her palm, "I'll go drag him back to Postwick myself."

Hop chuckled as he spun around towards Postwick. He wished he could see that: Tiny Gloria carrying his big brother over her head all the way through the Wild Area and back home. It was almost too bad Lee wouldn't miss a chance to see his little brother after so long apart.

He opened his mouth to tell Gloria as much when something caught his eye. He shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted.

"What's that?" He pointed.

Gloria followed his finger to see a figure in black with a hood pulled up walk through the gate to Hop's house. The figure shut the gate behind them before passing a large tree and leaving her sight.

"I dunno, but it gives me a bad feeling." Gloria grabbed Hop's wrist. "C'mon! Let's investigate!"

They hurried down the road until they came to the edge of the stone wall that surrounded Hop's home.

"Do you think we should go inside? What if that's a burglar? Should we call the police?" Hop asked. His fingers brushed his rotomphone in his pocket.

"Not yet. Let's see if we can tell what's going on first."

Gloria dropped her bag. With a leap, she effortlessly cleared the wall. She rushed past the tree and to the shed beside the house. Hop shouldered off his heavy pack and mimicked her until both their backs pressed against the worn paint of the shed.

"There's a window 'round the side of the shed. It looks into the kitchen." Hop jerked his head towards the house. "Let's see if we can see anything."

At the edge of the shed, Gloria and Hop exchanged looks. They nodded at each other then dropped to their stomachs in the wet grass. The smell of soggy earth filled their noses. They army crawled to the side of the house.

Hop's grandfather, or maybe even Leon, had recently cleared the leaf litter from around the shed into a tidy pile beside the house. The pile blocked their path like a sodded brown mountain.

Gloria started to ask, "Should we go arou--" when the kitchen window opened.

Hop slapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her until they were right next to the leaf litter pile.

A voice floated out the window.

"...won't be back until tonight."

Hop stiffened.

Leon! That was Leon's voice! So he was home. What about the burglar? The figure who walked through the gate. Did that person know Leon was home too? Did Leon know he wasn't alone?

Leon stuck his head out the window and gazed at the sky. "Rain's well past," he said before pulling his head back in.

Gloria held Hop against the wall to stop him from jumping out of their hiding place and dragging Leon out of the window by his shoulders.

She put a finger to her lips. "We don't know if anyone is in there with him yet," She hissed into his ear. "We don't want to scare him over nothing."

Hop swallowed the lump of worry in his throat. Gloria was right, of course. Maybe the figure was just cutting through his yard. People did that all the time, didn't they?

A hand with skin much too pale to be Leon's came from the window. It turned, palm to the sky, before returning to the house. The window shut with a click.

Hop and Gloria's eyes met.

There was someone in the house, someone beside Leon.

Without another word, the two crawled around the leaf pile and to the window. They waited a few heart-pounding moments before, carefully, peeking into the kitchen.

The figure in black, hood still up, had their back to Hop and Gloria. A sharp knife stuck out from their sleeves.

The figure started to turn towards the window. Hop and Gloria ducked down. Their hearts threatened to tear right out of their chests.

"Oh, Arceus." Hop sucked in a breath, going to his knees.

She put her hands on Hop's shoulders and shook him once. "Do you know what this means? It's not a burglar! It's a murderer!"

"But why? Who would want to hurt Leon? He is the greatest Champion Galar's ever had!" He paused a beat then added, "Ah, I mean--"

Gloria cut him off with a wave of her hand. "That's probably why! He must know something someone doesn't want him to. He has to have some top secret information about the League or someone very powerful."

"So they sent an assassin!" Hop interjected.

"Maybe more than one!"

Then, like a feedback loop of movie cliches, the mysterious figure walking through Hop's gate turned into a burglar, then murderer, then one of a team of well trained ninja assassins from Kanto coming to either kidnap Leon to extort information out of him or kill him to keep him from talking.

Midway through Hop's edition of a secret underground society of pokemon psychics, a scream pierced the air from inside the house.

"Lee!" Hop jumped to his feet.

He ran to the front of the house, weaving around the set of metal chairs and table near the kitchen door, and skidded to a stop, sending mud and wet grass up into the air.

He took a pokeball from his belt. "Dubwool, come out!"

In a flash of light, Hop's dubwool appeared. He shook out his fleece. For a moment, excitement rose on Dubwool's face upon being home. It disappeared when he looked at Hop's terrified expression.

Gloria let out her Cinderace. Cinderace took a breath for an delighted shout but Gloria shushed him with a hand over his mouth.

"There is an assassin in Hop's house trying to kidnap Leon," She explained quickly to the pokemon. "They probably have the door blocked, so we need to break it in then take out the assassin, got it?"

Dubwool and Cinderace nodded without a second’s hesitation. Their trainers knew exactly what was going on, and the pokemon always trusted their judgement.

Hop picked up one of the metal garden chairs and Gloria the other. They weren't much for weapons or protection, but they were better than nothing.

Another scream made all four jump.

"Let's go! Dubwool, use slam on the door!" Hop ordered, throwing out his arm.

Dubwool bleated. He pawed at the dirt once, twice, then rammed, horns first, into the door. The door flew from the hinges and crashed into the stairs across the hall. Photos rattled and fell to the floor with a shattering glass. Shards of glass scattered across fleece as Dubwool righted himself.

With a war cry, Hop, Gloria, and Cinderace raced through the door.

Cinderace jumped onto the broken door and used it as a springboard to leap across the living room.

"What in the world?" Leon jumped up from the couch in time for Cinderace's foot to plant firmly on his chest. His hat flew off his head as he landed, pinned between the wall and Cinderace's foot.

Gloria raised the chair above her head and threw it as another head came up from the couch.

The assassin ducked in time to miss the metal chair, but not the Dubwool who jumped over the couch to land on them with a victorious bleat.

The shelf above Leon swung down by one nail, disturbed by the chair hitting the wall. A trophy rolled and landed square on Leon's head with a bell-like ring.

Hop darted around the chaos towards his brother, his chair forgotten by the mess near the broken door.

"Lee!" Hop pushed a shocked Cinderace away and crouched next to Leon.

"H...Hop?" Leon squinted. "What are you doing here?" He winced, holding his head. A nice sized lump began to grow where the trophy collided with Leon’s skull.

Before Hop could answer, Gloria took a pillow from the couch and began beating the only part of the assassin's body that wasn't under a mass of thick wool--their thrashing legs.

"How do you like it, huh? You're not killing any champions on my watch! Bam! Ha! Boom! Take that, assassin!" She cried, repeatedly slamming the pillow against the assassin's ankles.

Leon gasped. "S-stop! Gloria, stop!" He tried to stand, but could barely lift himself up without falling back.

Hop wrapped his arms around Leon's shoulders protectively. Why in the world would he want them to stop? That assassin was trying to kidnap him, take him to their underground base, and torture him for information!

"Get the 'ell offa me!" The assassin yelled. With a grunt of effort, they pushed Dubwool off.

The sheep pokemon rolled onto his back, hooves waving in the air. Gloria quickly changed her angle and slammed the pillow into the assassin's face.

I hope I broke this jerk's nose! Gloria thought, though she didn't hear any cartilage crunching against her attack.

A pale hand gripped the pillow and tore it from her hands.

"What was all that for?" A familiar person demanded, throwing the pillowing back at Gloria. It hit her face and landed in a sad lump on the ground.

"Piers?"

Piers narrowed his eyes. A chill worse than anything she felt in the Crown Tundra ran up her spine at his icy glare.

"Did you throw a chair at me?" He demanded.

"I, I, uh..." Gloria floundered.

What was going on? Why was Piers, of all people, here? He wasn't a gym leader anymore, so he didn't need to talk to Leon about the League. Gloria couldn't think of a single reason the two would ever be in the same place together.

Unless something was wrong with Marnie. Was that The Big Secret she wanted to tell her? Had Marnie broken some sort of huge rule? Did something bad happen? Was her best gal friend in trouble?

Leon groaned again. Piers moved his gaze from Gloria and towards Leon. He jumped to his feet and hurried over.

"Leon? Are you alright?" He winced, seeing the blooming bruise on his forehead.

Hop tightened his grip on his brother. His head spun. Had his and Gloria's grand plan to save Leon been for nothing? No way they were wrong about the danger Leon had been in.

"I'm ffffffine," Leon slurred, "propsably."

Piers held up three fingers. "How many fingers I got up?"

Leon stared into the middle distance for a few beats longer than he should before squinting at Piers' fingers.

"Six."

Piers groaned, throwing his head back dramatically and slumping his shoulders. "I think you two gave him a concussion."

"Concussion?!" Hop nearly choked on the word. "But, we didn't mean to!"

Cinderace took a few steps around Gloria. He lowered himself to hide behind her, ashamed of the damage he'd caused. She reached back and patted him reassuringly. It wasn’t his fault. If Piers had been an assassin ninja, Cinderace would have just saved Leon from a dagger to the neck.

Piers disentangled Hop from Leon. He put his arm under Leon's and around his back before hoisting him up. Leon tried to take a step on his own, but wobbled back against Piers.

"Let's get you to a doctor. That's a nasty lump." Piers' voice came out softer than Gloria or Hop had ever heard it. To Hop, he asked, "Do we got to go all the way to the next town or is there a doctor in Postwick."

Hop's mouth gaped before he shook himself. "There's not, but if I call the one in Wedgehurt, he can be here in a jiffy." He already had his rotomphone out before he finished speaking.

Gloria, feeling useless standing there like a slowpoke on a stone, went to roll Dubwool back to his hooves. She dusted some of the wood chips and glass shards from his fleece. A few chips hit the cracked screen of a laptop on the floor.

She had a feeling she would be paying for that, and for everything else...

Leon rested his weight against Piers' side.

"Surry," He muttered. "This didn't go alls well 't all."

Piers shrugged as he carefully helped Leon through the broken mess on the floor.

"Believe it or not, this still isn’t the worst date I've ever been on."

Hop dropped the rotomphone and Gloria fell over herself, landing on the other side of Dubwool.

"Date?"

------

Piers shook the rain off his coat.

“Walk more,” they said.

“It's good for you,” they said.

“The weather is great today,” they said.

Bull crap!

That's the last time he takes his gym trainers' advice on the weather--no, not his gym trainers. They were Marnie's now. He hadn’t been a gym leader in a few months, but sometimes that fact still slipped his mind.

He should have gotten a taxi to Postwick. That way he wouldn't have gotten caught in the rain.

He hurried down the road to Leon's house. He opened the gate, surprised it didn't screech in protest. Well, Leon did say he'd been doing handiwork around his family's house recently. He probably oiled the gate.

Or maybe Piers just wasn't used to gates that didn't squeak from years of rust.

He shut the gate behind him as he wondered if he could talk Leon into helping him around Spikemuth's gym. Marnie might be the gym leader, but that didn't mean Piers couldn't still keep the gym up to snuff.

Leon opened the door after the second knock. He wore a floral themed apron with his sleeves rolled past his elbows and hair pulled back at the nape of his neck.

He covered a chuckle.

"Spooky. Are you the grim reaper today?" He gestured at the long black coat and hood.

Piers rolled his eyes and pushed the hood back. How he fit all of his hair in the hood, Leon couldn't fathom a guess.

Leon gestured for him to follow him to the kitchen. Piers peeled off his coat and draped it over a kitchen chair. Leon reached back to untie the apron.

"I lost track of time," he explained, hanging the apron on a hook. "I promised Mum I'd get the kitchen spick and span for tomorrow."

"How kind."

Hop came back tomorrow from the Isle of Armor. Piers' knew that well at this point. It seemed every other conversation lately had been about how excited Leon was about his little brother's return.

Leon couldn't wait to hear what kind of research Hop was doing and what kind of pokemon he'd met and all about how everything at the Dojo was.

Of course, Gloria was supposed to come back too. Neither Leon nor Piers had ever been to the Crown Tundra, but they knew the rumors of the incredibly strong pokemon that live in the barren, frozen north of Galar.

Both of them knew they would need to battle the current champ to see just how strong she'd become before she left to continue her explorations.

Piers peered around the kitchen. As far as he could tell, it looked fine. All the counters were clean and the cobwebs dusted from the corners, but he still asked, "D’you need help?" anyway.

Leon shook his head. "No. It's just a few dishes I have to do." He jerked his head to the sink.

In fact, Leon started cleaning all the nooks and crannies of the kitchen right after breakfast. He intended to finish well before Piers showed up, but only having a few pieces of silverware left wasn't that bad.

Piers took a dish towel from beside the sink and dropped it. Using his foot, he mopped up the puddle he and his coat created on the tiled floor. With one quick movement, he hooked the towel with his toe and kicked it up into his waiting hand.

"You're welcome." He tossed the towel next to the sink.

Leon snorted a laugh. "Thanks."

"When is your family 'ppose to be back? The movie isn't that long, but..." Piers trailed off, rolling his wrist to finish the comment.

Leon didn't need him to finish to know what he was talking about. They were a little secret, for the time being. Only the bare minimum of people knew they were dating, and Leon had been putting off explaining the situation to his family until after Hop and Gloria’s homecoming.

"My grandparents are visiting friends in Ballonlea. My and Gloria's mums are in Hammerlock, so, they," Leon opened the window over the sink, "won't be back until tonight."

Leaning over the sink, he poked his head out and looked up. The dark rain clouds moved on, leaving Postwick humid, but drying. A weather Piers didn’t seem to mind, though Leon couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of humidity being better than a sunny afternoon.

"Rain's well past."

Piers strode next to him and stuck his hand out the window. He turned his palm up, half expecting more rain, before pulling it back in. He shut the window.

"Too bad," he smiled slyly, "a scary movie is always better with some thunder and lightnin' in the background."

"I wouldn't want Hop treading home through mud," Leon replied, only half joking.

Piers took his coat from the chair and draped it over Leon's shoulders. He chuckled and patted his warm cheek.

"It's cute you care so much about your bro like that."

A faint blush crossed Leon's cheeks. Their faces were so close. It wouldn't take much to close the gap and--

"We should start the movie soon." Piers stole a step away. "We're doing this in the living room, yeah?"

Before he could get any farther, Leon took hold of his wrist and gently pulled him back. He placed a kiss on his cheek.

"I have to empty the sink first, so don't miss me too much."

Although he knew it was unlikely, Leon wished his impromptu romantic gesture would leave the formidable dark-type trainer flustered. It didn't, of course. Leon had only ever gotten him blushing and gobsmacked once, when he first proposed the idea of a date between the two.

Piers shook his head with a smile then pulled the hood over Leon's head.

"Smooth as a druddigon."

He paused, mentally storing that line away. It could make a good lyric someday. Smooth as a druddigon, loving as a gorbis? Bisharp?

He'd work on it later.

With Piers out of the kitchen, Leon sighed in defeat. Maybe next time he'd get him.

Instead of taking off Piers' coat, he put his arms through the sleeves. Piers was taller than him by a half a head, so the sleeves fell past his hands

Leon took the last fork and spoons from the sink and set them aside. Careful of the blade, he took a knife out. Mum used the knife to chop vegetables for dinner the night before, so it was a relatively easy clean.

Leon shuddered. The coat wasn't even that warm. Did Piers only wear it for the style? He turned away from the sink, knife still in hand and lifted an arm. At least the material seemed to dry fast after being caught in the rain. Maybe that's why Piers wore it?

As he turned back to the sink, something moved out of the corner of his eye. He frowned. Did a rookidee fly down from the tree in the yard just then? Setting the knife aside, he reached to open the window again when a blood curdling scream made him jump.

With his hand to his pounding heart, he hurried to the living room.

"What was that?"

Piers nodded to the laptop set up in front of him on the coffee table.

Leon craned his neck towards the laptop screen. The fakest monster costume he had ever seen loomed over a frightened woman on the title screen.

"Night Of the Living Nightmare" the title read in a dripping green and purple font.

When Piers said he had a classic of Galar indie horror to show him, Leon expected a movie with thrilling psychological horror and innovative use of pokemon moves for special effects, not a repainted rubber gyarados mask with extra teeth glued in.

"How old is this movie?" Leon asked, taking off Piers' fashionable, but impractical, coat.

"Would you believe me if I told you it was made only eight years ago?" Piers took the coat from Leon and tossed it in the corner of the couch.

"Really?" He sat next to Peers.

Piers scooted over and pressed against his side. Leon always felt warm, which was part of the reason Piers took his less than warm coat with him. A good excuse to get close as they watched the movie. At least one of them was actually smooth.

He hummed the affirmative.

'The Night Of The Living Nightmare' was a terribly cheesy movie. The fake blood wasn't thick enough, the teeth on the mask fell off half way through, the editing made scenes drag on much too long, and the actors either over exaggerated their lines or delivered them with as much life as a dead magikarp.

All together, 'The Night Of The Living Nightmare' made for a good date movie in Piers' opinion.

"Ready?" Piers already hit play before Leon could answer.

The movie started with a scene of a woman rising up out of a pool. The camera lingered on her chest and stomach and legs before it panned back towards the water. A ripple skittered across the pool water.

The scales on the wishiwashi making the waves gleamed in the harsh set lighting.

The woman dried her hair with a bright pink beach towel. She hummed a pop song that Leon remembered being popular when he was a teenager, but couldn’t recall the name off.

A set of rubber fins slapped against the pool tile. The music grew frantic with each wet slap as the monster neared the woman.

A three clawed hand reached out towards the woman. She spun, screamed in terror and--

"Is that a boom mic?" Leon paused the movie and pointed to the mic in the corner of the screen.

"There are at least seven hangin' around in different shots," Piers confirmed. "You think you can find 'em all?"

Now with a goal of finding all the hidden mics, Leon went to hit play again. Before his fingers brushed the space bar, something let out a loud "Baaaa!"

He bolted up in time to see the front door fly off its hinges, followed by a dubwool.The door and dubwool slammed into the steps. Picture frames crashed to the ground. Glass scattered across the floor.

Outside, several people screamed, then a cinderace then leapt over the dubwool.

It ricocheted off the busted door and aimed a well placed kick into Leon's chest.

----

"...And that's what happened before you brusted in." Leon adjusted the ice pack against his head.

The doctor from Wedgehurts said Leon got lucky that Cinderace's attack only left him with some bruises, bumps, and a mild concussion and not broken bones. When he left, the doctor tutted at the broken door and muttered about kids these days.

Piers set a glass of water on the table in front of Leon and two pain pills beside it.

From across the kitchen table, Hop and Gloria avoided looking at the older trainers. How could they let their imagination get away from them like that? Gloria was the Galar champion and Hop was a professor in training, and yet they really believed assassins had broken in.

How foolish! Leon was a champion, too. Of course he could take care of a few assassin's without their help!

"We're really sorry, Lee," Hop muttered then added quickly, "and Piers."

Gloria added in, "We just wanted to help."

"It's not the first time I've been hit by a pokemon, and it probably won't be the last," Leon reassured after he downed the pain killers.

Piers took a seat. He steepled his fingers and looked over Hop and Gloria with a hard, steady gaze. The two squirmed. Should they apologize again? Get on their knees and beg for forgiveness?

"This wasn't how this was s’pposed to go." Piers sighed, turning to look away and releasing the kids from his stare.

Leon nodded in agreement, only to flinch. He blinked hard until the kitchen finally stopped spinning. The doctor told him not to do anything that required much mental or physical exertion, but he didn't particularly have a choice in this case.

The thought of explaining the door, the wall, the shelf, his head, not to mention Piers, made his head pound in anticipation of the confrontation. Mum would be upset about the door, worried about him, and annoyed about Piers being kept a secret from her.

"I don't get," Hop frowned, "why you two keep this a secret from everyone? What's the big deal?"

Leon scratched his cheek with his finger. "Well, ah, that's because--"

"We were breakin’ rules," Piers cut in.

"Rules? What rules?" Hop wrinkled his brow.

Leon was a grown up now, so the rules Mum set up for dating when he was a teenager didn't apply anymore. Or, Hop thought they didn't. Had Leon broken his curfew to spend time with Piers? Did he leave for a date without telling Mum how long he’d be out?

"The Pokemon League rules. Members of The League aren't allowed to date each other. Conflict of interest and all that," Peers explained. "I was still a gym leader and he was still champion when this started." He nodded towards Leon.

Now Hop felt really confused. He couldn't imagine his big brother breaking a rule like that. Then again, he couldn't imagine Leon breaking curfew either, at least not without a really good reason.

Gloria crossed her arms. This was news to her. What a dumb rule. Who cared if a gym leader wanted to date another leader. What if she wanted to go out with a gym leader? The League could try and stop her!

"I don't think we'll get in too much trouble now, but we figured we'd wait it out before saying anything to anyone." Leon switched the hand holding the ice pack. He wanted this conversation over so he could go lay down and stare at the ceiling for a bit.

A thought crossed Gloria's mind just then. Could it be this The Big Secret Marnie had to tell her in person?

"Does Marnie know?"

"That you two nearly suffocated her brother under a hundred kilo of unknit sweater? She will when I get home." Piers glanced at the side of the kitchen where the pokemon were. Dubwool lowered his gaze. Cinderace coughed into his paws and turned to stare out the window.

"No, did Marnie know about you two?"

Piers raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. She knew."

Gloria's eyes gleamed. Now Marnie owed her a new secret, since Gloria knew this one. It was only fair after all! Maybe this whole ordeal was worth it to learn Marnie’s crushes!

Hop asked, "Is there anything we can do to make this up to you two? We messed up, and we deserve it."

Piers and Leon exchanged looks. Piers shrugged. He could always find them something to do at Spikemuth: the less artistic graffiti needed to be washed off walls, trash picked up, or moss scraped off buildings.

Leon, though, was the one who had actually been hurt so he let the punishment for the kids’ transgression be under his discretion.

"I can think of one thing," Leon said. He gestured for Piers to lean towards him. He covered the side of his mouth and whispered into Piers' ear.

Piers cackled and sent Hop and Gloria a smirk.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant." He clasped Leon on the upper arm and squeezed.

Leon set the ice pack on the table. He reached across and put a firm hand on one of Hop's and one of Gloria's shoulders.

He half smiled. "Someone has to tell Mum what happened to the door, and I don't think it will be me."

---

AN: I haven't written a fanfiction in like more than a year. But last year was 2020 so can you blame me?

#pokemon #piers #leon #hop #gloria #piersxleon #one-shot #fanfiction

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.2)

CHAPTER 23.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Summary: Higher Vampires are known to be incredibly intelligent. Whence, Tybalt of Toussaint may also possess some humanly emotions just like how mortals do.

Warnings: Blood. Gore. Gory. I think I haven't been too descriptive in this part? I don't wanna say any more in the summary. I don't wanna spoil anything. The usual blasphemy.

Words: 3.2k (short, I know. Heh. Should've been included in the last chapter but I didn't. I think this deserves to have an own chapter.) Short but would give such emotions. I hope. 😉

A/N: Ugh. I thought school has been postponed in my country. It should've been postponed. I have no money and I'm terribly not in the mood everyday to even do anything---what about studying then? Updates will be slower because of the anxiety I'm having. Your words help the anxiety lessen a few whenever you comment for WOTN. Heehee! Mwah!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (All taken from Tumblr so credits to the rightful owners of the gifs) However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books, games or show. First line was taken from a Geralt quote. (Here in Tumblr) I don't know if it was from the show because I hardly remember lines or scripts. (I'm forgetful as heck) LMAO. But, I can hear him saying it inside my head rn.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"I run into dilemmas all the time. Situations where it's hard to judge, hard to know what's right, make a decision. This is not one of them. You both disgust me and deserve to die,"

"What---what the bloody fuck, Witcha'?!"

"I didn't peg you to be an adopted vampire who suckles on that hag's slandering, inimical greed for power. You're intelligent. But, you use it for foolish purposes,"

"Feckin' heck! Yer' attacking me now? Want to pick up a battle in the middle of feckin' Bethleheigm's forest?!"

"Tybalt of Toussaint. You and your cunning sorceress wasted my time all along,"

Geralt of Rivia snarled through gritted teeth, the vampire grounded to a tree where the witcher has him pinned with a tough hand on his shoulder, while the other held a blade pointed to his heart, "---have been blood-guilty since the prince has even been born,"

He was certainly led on by their wiles. The sorceress and the higher vampire. Geralt was sure that the queen had no idea as to what they've done; as to what Ingrith has done. From the curse of Makeda's son up until the point where she has been the king's mistress. Though, the witcher knew he was done for all their bullshit that has been put up. All his energy wasted for a devil's snare that he obviously has been caged in.

He should've listened to you instead when you have tried shushing him in the middle of his impulsive decision making with the king. The white wolf trusted more of his knowledge rather than the instincts that his guts have been telling him.

Geralt should've trusted his midget more than himself. Most of the time, his decisions were always the worst if we could talk about what happened in the past.

"I wasn't taken in that time yet, Witcha'! The feckin' sorceress didn't take me before the prince has even been born!"

Tybalt struggled against his hold, fighting off Geralt's strength and trying to shrug his hand away. He could simply wave him in hand to hand combat, their strengths matching with one another. Perhaps, the Higher Vampire was stronger than the witcher. Yet, Geralt's anger was rather compelling versus Tybalt's sudden cedes, "---Guess, the truth always and will be set free no matter how we---!"

The latter heard the blade of his silver sword ripping his fabric apart due to being constraint physically. Geralt growled beneath his chest, vibrating through his armor that startled Rohesia who sat on a piece of log.

As Geralt convinced the old woman to come with, they've left her home. Notwithstanding his newly found strength of convincing or better yet, begging that he somehow catches himself trapped in. He sounded pitiful to be begging from a mortal to save his own human. The witcher couldn't imagine nor see himself to be in his own shoes right at that moment.

They've went on with their journey going back to Kaedwen. Tybalt looking oh-so-dumbfounded to see the woman who he talked to years ago about Geralt's existence---how they wanted this specific witcher to lure them in for another shitful death. Vesemir's prior visits never being mentioned to the vampire because she knows how they were trying to remove them in the continent one by one with their unreasonable rationales.

The white wolf was quiet, utterly speechless when he'd seen the vampire. His teeth tightly gritted together behind close mouth. Jaw set to bark deep profanities as to how he has been foolish not to point fingers at them from the start.

Hence, which is why; in the middle of hunting for a deer, Geralt had wildly attacked Tybalt. Face being punched from the witcher's fist and having no time to draw his sword from his back. The latter stumbled from his attack, but eventually recovered in an inhumane amount of time---at least, a second of using his agility to fight back. His vampire claws itching to grow but he was trying not to use them for what guilt was setting him reluctant over a battle with the witcher.

Tybalt needed the blood that Geralt spat on the ground when he'd given him a strong punch to the face. Their brawl being a release of their own frustrations over each other until the higher vampire began to try and use his invisibility with Geralt that made the witcher huff and growl, making him draw his sword out of his back as Tybalt stood on top of a tree branch, invisible and owning no shadow.

The witcher felt where he was hiding and had to use Igni to push him back. Fire slightly burning the side of his bearded face that instantly regenerated in a few minutes. Geralt's vexation for him even becoming more insufferable when the higher vampire hauled him over to the ground, pinning him down. But, the white wolf's anger was determined to come back to the castle with his cut-off head in his hand.

Resulting onto their current position against a tree with hearts blaring for rage, the witcher's resentment over your heart being kept at a trembling bay for whatever was giving you more and more questions about him.

"This was an endless hunt---Midget was right." he grumbled and barked, sending a nasty scowl.

"She knew?" Tybalt spat with a sardonic laugh, "---I thought it was er' affection that ye' didn't trust---I didn't thought ye' actually don't trust er' at all."

Geralt's conscience tingled with the need to have a battle with him until he was contented. He pushed him further against the wood, his amber glazing with a major amount of fury. Red as people can describe for his fueled wrath for anyone in his way.

Tybalt wasn't fighting back as he could read him through his eyes, indignation filled within them that made him emit a shaky cackle because of how he explained to Ingrith that their horrid truth will eventually be set free in the future. The unlucky fate they had was that Geralt has happened to know it rather than another mortal that they could murder just like the previous ones who Rohesia has spilled the beans over the issue.

But, this was Geralt. Gwynbleidd. The infamous butcher. If he would tell Tybalt how he didn't have feelings, then it was all just a damn lie because he was being controlled over his own spleen.

Tybalt of Toussaint was a cuckoo for even trying to rattle his cage. Geralt's teeth untamely barred as time was being spent with him. His hostility skyrocketing after knowing how he has been fooled.

"Heard the visions inside yer' head when ye' were talking in your sleep, Butcher." a heavy beat of silence, "---Ye' believe she'll eventually leave because it might be the destiny for a lass who lived in another world. Yer' fearful that she'll die in your hands. Scared that she'll leave ye' behind and grow old earlier than ye' do because she ain't no mutant like ye. The fight ye' had with er' was quite entertaining to be honest. Too childish to think that yer' still feckin' that sorceress ye' had. No questions asked. I must prefer to choose the unchaste one if ye' ask me---no wonder you want the woman who makes my palates tingle. She's fresh, young and smells bloody good! Sure enough, she's no vestal as she may seem anymore because I know ye' fucked that woman---oh, fuck ye' bloody mutant!"

Tybalt hasn't finished his sentence about diminishing his old flame and current one. The witcher didn't hesitate but give him a strong jab to his jaw, making Tybalt spit his own blood on the ground with a hearty laugh, earning a grimace from Geralt himself. His jaw tensing and clenching tighter than ever from hearing such things.

The higher vampire grinned like a Cheshire cat, teeth painted in crimson red from how the witcher has made him bust his lip from being punched in the face. He could avoid them if he wanted to, but he felt like his assaults and madness were well deserved for what they both have caused to his family, especially to you. It was about time Geralt would seethe into his own pique. The witcher should've done it since then---but, Tybalt has escaped back in the marketplace; escaping his profound wrath.

"Is the mighty witcher's weakness, a mere mortal who knows nothing of you, yer' past and the continent---were ye' even honest to her? told everythin' about yer' nauseating stories?"

Geralt growled another, his words vibing a snappy snarl as he grumbled so deeply, "Fuck. You went deep inside my head." he held onto his sword's hilt tighter, penetrating the sharp blade onto Tybalt's skin, blood seeping through his clothing which has ignited a deep groan and whimper from the latter.

"---Vampires. I loathe your kind."

The white wolf was about to deepen his blade against his chest, Tybalt's punctured wound oozing of claret blood. Geralt's actions making the old woman gasp from where she sat afar, seeing that they weren't having their little playtime anymore as it was all serious. Blood and wounds involving his interrogation over the Upir.

"Stop...Stop yer' horses," Tybalt whimpered, not knowing whether to laugh or revel in the pain as to how it felt to be stabbed on his chest. This was like an imbecile move for him; to accept such blade for the guilt he was feeling over his actions towards you---a mortal who had no idea what was happening in the first place.

Maybe, there was still a teeny-tiny amount of contrition left inside of him. The baby growing inside being the cause of his sudden compunction and change of events because of what the sorceress in the castle's next move would be and his sincerity would be the least that Ingrith wanted nor hoped to see.

His next words would cause him his life and what will be outside of the castle---for what was waiting for him and of being Ingrith's shadow since the moment he was taken.

Repentance is always achieved when one is left with no choice for his or her sins. Regret and realization for one's mistakes happens in the end. Though, in most cases, people living in malign don't realize it at all.

"It's in the cup! Inside the feckin' cup, alright!" Tybalt sneered and hissed, feeling the blade slowly being pushed further. His candor being answered with dubiety from the latter and a hoarse reply.

"Hmm. What lies must you be playing now. You're distracting me from sticking this blade inside your cold, withering heart, Upir."

The higher vampire held onto his silver blade with his hand, his skin frothing against the sword, palm burning for what Geralt has coated back before they even arrived in Rohesia's hideout. Vampire Oil. He was still dubious about Tybalt despite of being unaware for their clandestine schemes. Geralt never trusted his thirst for sins after all.

Tybalt accepted the pain, letting his skin burn from the blade. More blood seeping out of his fingers from how he tried wretching his sword off his chest. But, with all of Geralt's willpower, he kept the vampire in his place. His shoulder slightly beginning to burn and it took him one look to see Geralt fighting off to use one of his signs. Igni that he was also susceptible with.

"Ve...Venom from a female royal Wyvern, Cockatrice and a mixture of acid from a Bloedzuiger's insides---mixed with a taste that wouldn't let er' know that it is poison she's consuming," he stammered with a whimper, hissing another and growling back when Geralt pushed through the vampire's heart, paying no remorse over stabbing the vital parts of him.

The witcher only answered with silence. A death stare being thrown back, trying to understand what he wanted to say. His brows tightly netted in confusion, dazed and long enough for Tybalt to continue his divulge over Ingrith's secret agendas.

"She...plans to destroy her insides---make her bleed." pause. "---If she's protected by the Djinn where yer' lass could resist Ingrith's magic, then there is no doubt that she could accept the vile that will be passed through her throat. Down...down, through her stomach,"

Her. Was it you? Geralt silently pondered at the thought, the gaze in his eyes faltering and turning livid. Teeth bared for his acrimonious comment said.

"Know when to fuck off with your lies! I'm tired of it!"

Geralt growled, his skepticism made the vampire weakly shake his head for his incredulity, mutely sparing his bleat with a low whimper and growl as he sent daggers over the blade stuck in his chest, "I...I spare my tongue to you when this is all an actual lie,"

The witcher scoffed, knowing that he was making a fool out of himself again and it was making him go on the warpath because he knew that cutting his tongue would be nothing to Tybalt.

"You regenerate. You can't outsmart me this time."

Tybalt's clothing was drenched in his own blood. Fresh cochineal saturating the under tunic concealed before his body armor that the witcher had no problem to prod. The higher vampire breathed deeply through his nose, his eyes mentally telling that he was relinquishing every ploy to achieve the sorceress' goals.

"Behead me then with yer' silver sword, Weccan. Cut all me' limbs and feed me to a Selkiemore. But, yer' little woman's drink shall be poisoned in the night of the feast. Three cups of wild fruit juice given to er'---safe for---safe for her as a token of appreciation and another for what she would gladly ask from the king. However, I do not know what cup is poisoned or what not. That's all I can say."

Geralt was snarling before the vampire. His nose scrunched in contempt. The idea slowly coming to his senses. They plan to poison you without a doubt. He needed to come back to his midget as soon as possible. The witcher will be risking your anger that hasn't faded still. Their poison was strong---potent as other mages or wizards may know that even it would take him effects once consumed.

Come what may, rue did not move the witcher's heart. He'd punctured Tybalt's heart, his blade passing through the body of the Upir who minimally spat blood out of his mouth. The silver sword being coated with more blood, splattering the tree behind him, drips of blood painting wood. A gash being given to his most vital organ.

Geralt knew it would take him months or even decades for such bodily destruction. Howbeit, he'd only punctured him in a part that would exhibit a vast amount of pain for his sufferings to yours; for what pain they've given to you was felt from the witcher. He came with you in terms of physical and spiritual---your existence had him coming in two's when it should've been only himself.

Nonetheless, Geralt of Rivia knew in order to survive was to exterminate each and every one who would hurt you because you were the most vulnerable including Cirilla. The witcher would do just that. Give agony to human or any other kind who breaths in the continent until you were safe and sound; to shed blood as he may see with the lesser evil on his side. As he may now try to see that particular side of it with no doubts.

He was not done with Tybalt as he pushed the blade further until the hilt, his heart clouding in blue when Geralt could know that something was happening again back in the castle---the heavyness going back and forth, every hour of the day dropping stones on his chest for what was happening to you.

Tybalt spat more blood once Geralt forcefully yielded his sword away. Crimson liquid filling the ground, his Ivory hair somehow catching onto the gore he has created in the middle of the forest. The higher vampire will be taking decades to recover---lucky if another higher vampire would help him with his regeneration but they both knew that no grudges will be held after because he gladly accepted the pain.

Gwynbleidd has lifted his blade off Tybalt's heart, staring with no remorse and filled with fury. Tybalt was mumbling onto something he couldn't understand. He could only decipher the words 'she' and 'save' over his anger, clouded thoughts before Geralt held tightly onto the handle of his sword, slashing through Tybalt's jugular with determination. Beheading the vampire with his own actions in silence as his amputated body and head fell onto the wet, bloody ground.

He stared, thoroughly emotionless upon his work, thoughtlessly giving heed to the closed eyes of the former living vampire laying lifeless on the dirtground. Geralt grumbled a hum beneath his raging chest, scowling whilst he took a step to pick up Tybalt's head, leaving his body for whatever fate lays for him because the witcher knew he wasn't entirely dead with the slowest beating of heart.

Rohesia was stunned and speechless over watching the scene afar. The witcher's will and determination being sensed from the distance and she knew that this princess he was trying to save was an important person in his dangerous, ill-fate life for the risk he was willing to take---giving her knowledge that Vesemir have been telling the truth in which Geralt of Rivia looked up to him like a father figure and a son that he may never get to have forever.

If you go back to my chapters, you'll know that I had a hint that this would happen to our precious wittle reader. If anybody remembers or had a hint on what chapter, COMMENT! Mwohahaha! RIP to our boi, Tybalt. You shall be missed. Can’t believe this was my first OC whom I killed off in a story. *sobs*

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @butterpumpkinscotch @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks, @raynosaurus-rex, @britty443, @suhke3, @shadowclawstudio88, @ruthoakenshield, @just-a-sad-donut, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo, @alexwinchester23, @naturalthrone22 @supernaturallover2002, @tellmesomethinggud

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kookscrescent · 4 years

Text

SECRETS │ prologue │ jjk

➤ pairing│Jungkook x female reader ➤ summary│Finding someone who doesn’t know who he is, is rare for Jungkook. Everywhere he goes people seem to know his name, his face and the group he’s a part of. But when he comes across someone that doesn’t know any of that, he isn’t in any hurry to reveal that part of his life and the secrets keep piling up. ➤ rating│PG-13 ➤ genre│fluff, dating au, idol au ➤ warnings│mild swearing, angst, humor, featuring namjoon ➤ word count│3.4k│semi edited ➤ release date│January 26th 2020 ➤ disclaimer│This is all fiction! Nothing mentioned/written are facts and/or real! So please just keep that in mind when reading and enjoy! Thank you ♡

➤ chapter index│prologue│01│02│03│04│05│06

⇥ Masterlist

Jungkook scurries into the small corner coffee shop that lies neatly tucked away down a small street, where not many people tend to come. This is his favorite coffee shop to come to, to get his coffee. It’s quiet and it’s owned by an older lady, Mrs. Lee, that doesn’t know who he is. She doesn’t ask him questions or try to take his picture or freak out when he comes in. She doesn’t give a shit that his name is linked to one of the biggest idol groups in not only Korea but the world, and she goes on about her day and treats him like a regular customer, and that is why he keeps coming back.

The door shuts behind him as he breaths in the strong smell of coffee. Nothing has changed in all the times he has been here. The same three round wooden tables with their matching chairs still fill most of the floor space, the live green plants that fill the two windowsills and the heavy wooden counter that displays a variety of homemade cakes and pies, and behind it the large coffee machine that brews his favorite coffee are all the same.

But something has changed apparently as his gaze switches to the space behind the counter, where Mrs. Lee normally stands, ready to greet him with her arms out and a warm hello.

Mrs. Lee has apparently hired a new barista to help her run the place. Jungkook can just about manage to read the nametag on your shirt. ____, it reads. You don’t even notice him entering, your eyes too busy focusing on the coffee menu in front of you. Your hair is tied up in a bun on the top of your head and on your body, you wear the same uniform Mrs. Lee normally wears; black clothing from head to toe and a white apron.

Jungkook stops and nervously looks around for Mrs. Lee, but she doesn’t seem to be there. He worries that you are going to recognize him and potentially cause a scene.

Fuck, maybe he should have brought security!

Looking towards the door he just entered, he debates whether he should leave, but before he can make up his mind, your soft voice rings through the small space, causing him to jump slightly.

“Hi, welcome!” You smile brightly at him. “Can I help you?”

Fuck, you are beautiful! Your big round eyes are staring brightly at him like you are old friends reuniting after a long time, and your plump lips are perfectly framing your smile.

Fuck.

But despite that, Jungkook still waits a few moments, just standing by the door – quiet as a mouse. But the screaming doesn’t come. Huh?

“Are you okay, sir?” you ask slightly concerned when he doesn’t answer you.

Realizing that he probably seems like a creep, just staring at you without saying anything, he kicks himself in the butt and approaches the counter hesitantly. “Yes! Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s alright sir. What can I get for you?”

“U-uh, one large iced Americano, please.”

“One large iced Americano, coming right up,” you say, and pick up a new cup and a marker, “what name can I write on the coffee for you?”

Shit! You clearly don’t recognize his face or his voice, but what if his names spark something in you?

Eventually, he decides to dare it, “Jungkook.”

Still no reaction from you as you just scribble down his name on the side of the cup and places it on the counter behind you.

“It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” you explain.

Jungkook stays by the counter and watches as you prepare his coffee. Intrigued, doesn’t begin to describe what he is feeling at the moment. Confused, relieved, ecstatic, and maybe even a little disappointed. He is so used to everyone, especially girls, knowing who he is, and recognizing him just by the sound of his voice, and to have probably the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, not knowing who he is… he must admit it is a little disappointing and a blow to his ego.

He takes this as an opportunity to study you without seeming like a total creep. He watches the way you move so effortlessly behind the counter as you fill up the cup with ice, and as you prepare the coffee in the machine, that will later be filled in the transparent cup. You move almost gracefully, reminding him of a ballerina on a stage. Catches himself smiling when you tug a stray piece of hair behind your ear, he clears his throat.

“Are you new?” He then asks, feeling like he needs to fill the silence. He also just wants to hear you talk. Hear your voice.

Turning slightly, you smile at him over the shoulder, “I am. Mrs. Lee is not getting any younger and she needed an extra pair of hands. My mother knows her and recommended me for the job.”

“I see,” you are beautiful, no doubt about it, but when you smile your entire face fills with innocence, a sense of happiness, looking like you’ve just heard the best news in the world. At first glance, you seem like an extremely positive person, a happy go lucky type, and it only intrigues him further.

“Here you go,” placing the freshly brewed iced Americano in front of him. You pull a straw from the container and lays it next to the cup. “That’ll be 3.547 won please.”

Jungkook hands the money over the counter and you take them with care, and gently place them in the till.

“Thank you.” Grabbing his coffee and straw, Jungkook leaves despite the fact that he really wants to stay a few more minutes. To look at your beauty and maybe muster up courage to talk to you some more. But people are waiting for him and he needs to get going before he will be late.

He is almost out of the door when you stop him, “Oh wait!” you call after him a little frantic. By the tone of your voice Jungkook is afraid that you have finally realized who he is.

Reluctantly he turns with his brows raised in question.

“You gave me way too much money sir! You need change!” You tell him and instantly he is relieved, his shoulder slagging.

He laughs internally at the way you have been calling him sir this whole time. If he had to guess, you would be about the same age as him.

“Keep it.”

“Keep it?”

“Keep it.” He shrugs.

“But this is over 20.000 won sir, that is way too much for just one cup of coffee!”

He really doesn’t know why he decided to leave such a big tip. It wasn’t something he had purposely planned on doing, but when he was reaching for the money in his wallet, he had accidentally grabbed two 10.000 won bills instead of just one, but without think much of it he handed you both of them.

“Consider it a tip,” he settles on telling saying, his head lightly tilted to the side.

“A tip? For me?” gently you point a finger at your chest and Jungkook can’t help but laugh at the way your face contorts so cutely in confusion. You obviously are not used to getting tips.

“Yes, for you.” He chuckles, “As a thank you for the delicious coffee.”

“But you haven’t-“ before you can protest further and tell him that a 16.000 won tip is way over the top and that you can’t possibly accept the money, Jungkook is already gone, “-even tasted it yet…”

~ 3 days later ~

“I could’ve brought back the coffee by myself,” Jungkook complains loudly to his hyung and leader walking in front of him, “you didn’t actually have to come with me.”

“I wanted to come,” Namjoon had insisted on joining Jungkook on bringing back coffee for practice. Normally one of the staff members would do it so they could use all the time on practicing, but for three whole days Jungkook’s fingers have been itching to see you again. Even for just a few short minutes. But having Namjoon tagging along, he is afraid that the small bubble he has created around the fact that you don’t know who he is, will burst.

“I have wanted to see this place for some time now,” Namjoon explains as his feet carry him closer to the little coffee shop Jungkook calls is bubble, “if this place can make you ditch Starbucks than I wanna see it.”

“It isn’t even anything special. It’s just a coffee shop.” Jungkook insist, hoping it will get him to turn around and walk back to the car.

Ignoring his question, Namjoon reaches the shop and holds the door open for Jungkook to enter. With a huge sigh he reluctantly does and Namjoon follows. Like the other day, the café is empty, and the strong smell of coffee hits his nostrils as soon as they enter. Today, no one is behind the counter and Jungkook is hopeful that you might not be working today

As the door shuts behind them with a modest click, you appear in the doorway leading to the back room. “Hey, it’s the tip guy,” you beam at them.

Upon seeing you, the fear and nervousness returns to Jungkook’s body, but despite that, a smile automatically stretches on his lips, and beside him Namjoon tilts his head, looking between you in confusion.

Your bright mood has instantly lifted Jungkook’s spirits, and he forgets all about his hyung next to him until he speaks, “The tip guy?” Namjoon’s eyebrow raise in question at the name you have given Jungkook.

“Yeah, he’s guy that gave me the big tip the last time he was here,” she points to Jungkook, “I remember writing down your name, but I’m really bad with names, and I can’t seem to remember yours, so I resolved to just calling you the tip guy,” the last part you direct to Jungkook, your eyes locking on each other.

Normally, you have a pretty good memory. You remember small useless things that no one would ever need. You remember addresses and for some reason you are really good at remembering phone numbers. But names? You have never been good at remembering names and it has often landed you in a bit of trouble.

“Oh,” Namjoon mumbles, thinking deeply, and after a few moments the next oh follows, “oh!” he looks at Jungkook with wide eyes filled with shock.

The penny has just dropped for him, “Oh?”

“Oh,” Jungkook quietly confirms Namjoon’s unspoken question, crossing everything in his body in hopes that he won’t burst his bubble now.

Silently, Jungkook begs him not to say anything, to pretend that they are two normal guys getting coffee for their friends. He can undoubtedly see that Namjoon is in a little bit of a shocked state, much like he was three days ago. This never happens to them and he wants to stay like this for a little while longer.

“Oh what?” you ask curiously, wanting to join the conversation.

“Just, oh you forgot his name,” Namjoon is quick to make up an excuse and Jungkook relaxes on the spot knowing that his silent plea worked.

Thank you, he mouths to his hyung, but Namjoon is quick to shrug him off like it is nothing. Always the modest one.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you tell them genuinely, ”I’ve always been bad with names and I know I should probably be good with names, being a barista and all, but I’m just not,” you shrug apologetic, “but I remembered your face,” who could forget a face like his anyways?! Certainly not you!

Jungkook finds you incredibly cute when you ramble, and he would love to listen to you talk for hours. Just hours of listening to you talk.

“No worries,” he reassures you with a smile, “it happens to the best of us.”

God, you can’t get over how freaking handsome he is! He looks like one of those leading males in a drama – you know the one! That one guy that is so freakishly good looking, that it seems almost impossible for him to be real! Yeah, that’s him! That is this guy!

And when he smiles, it’s like your whole body gets set on fire and you want to tell him to smile some more. Or even ask him if you can take a picture of him to keep for a gloomy day, but that would probably have him running for the hills…

Damn! What is his name again?!

Knowing why they are probably here, you ask, “Can I get you some coffee?”

The guy next to him steps forward, but the whole time you keep casting your eyes towards the tip guy, trying for the life of you to remember his name. You barely even hear what his friend is saying.

“Yes, can we get-“

“Jungkook!” You exclaim a little too loud and they both look at you in shock and fright. “Oh I’m so sorry!” You rush to say, “I just suddenly remembered your name and I got a too excited because that almost never happens to me… I am so sorry for interrupting you!” you can already feel your cheeks heating up with embarrassment. You just hope they won’t notice or at least not comment on it. They must think you are some crazy person!

“You seem to have a habit of apologizing,” the guy that is not Jungkook smirks at you.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you mumble embarrassed and he continues to smirk at you.

“Oh… I did it again… sorry,” you don’t even realize that you keep apologizing. Only when he keeps smirking at you with a raise of his brows, and the small chuckle that comes from Jungkook, do you realize you have just apologized yet again.

“Shit, sorry! God! Sor-“ you are about to apologize for swearing in front of them, but you shut up mid-sentence, both Jungkook and his friend are now in full laughter at you small outburst.

“I’m just gonna stop talking,” you mumble lowly, your cheeks blushing furiously and you wish the ground would swallow you whole!

You can’t believe you just cursed in front of two customers! Thank God, Mrs. Lee isn’t here!

“Coffee?” You murmur embarrassed, trying to divert the conversation away from yourself.

“Yes please,” the guy tries to calm down his laugh to a mild chuckle, “seven large iced Americanos please.”

Seven?! “It’ll just be a few minutes,” you tell them.

As you start to fill the coffee machine with fresh beans and place out seven cups, you notice both of them moving away from the counter to one of the tables by the window.

A deep breath leaves your lungs. Why do you always have to embarrass yourself like that in front of good looking people?!

This is why you are still single!

“She’s pretty,” Namjoon comments as they both take a seat, far enough away for you not to hear them.

“I know.”

He goes on, “And seems like a really genuine person. Quite adorable.”

“I know.”

“You should ask for her number.”

“I kno- what?!” Jungkook frantically asks his hyung. He must have lost his mind!

“Ask for her number.”

“I can’t do that!” He can’t ask for your number – Right now you have no clue who he is and that gives him a piece of mind, it gives him a place where he can be normal, it gives him a person to talk to without them asking all kinds of questions. Even if it is for just a few minutes here and there. What if you find out who he is, and changes the way you act around him? He would hate that! Absolutely hate it!

Crossing his arms, Namjoon asks, “Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because?”

“Because right now she has no clue who I am! She doesn’t know I’m Jungkook from BTS, to her I’m just Jungkook, the guy that come in and orders a large iced Americano once in a while. I like that, okay.” Jungkook finally admits, his eyes blazing. “If she finds out who I really am, she might freak out and act like the rest of them.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums in understanding, “I understand you Kook,” he gives him a pat on the shoulder, “but what if she doesn’t?”

“Doesn’t what?”

“Freak out. What if she doesn’t give a flying fuck about who you are?”

Mulling over his words, Jungkook casts a look at you. Even with your back turned towards him, he finds you irresistible. What if you don’t freak out? If you’d had any inkling about who he is, would you not already have freaked out?

In his head, he is going back and forth with himself. Should he ask you, or should he not ask you? He wants to! Badly! But how far can the bubble stretch before it eventually bursts and the truth will be revealed?

Only one way to find out, “Alright, I’ll ask for her number.”

“That’s my man.”

Neatly, you place the last coffee in its designated slot in the cup holder. You smile to yourself. It may not seem like much to some people – making coffee for others – and you have to admit that you were probably one of those people at some point, but working here for the past few weeks, you have really come to enjoy it. There is a certain peace to it, a specific vibe that you can’t get anywhere else. And the chats you get to have with Mrs. Lee and all the customers, you enjoy as well.

“What are you smiling about?”

Startled, you place a hand over your racing heart and glare at the two men that is now standing in front of you. “Jeez, you scared me!” you hadn’t even heard them come up.

“Sorry,” Jungkook chuckles.

Shaking off the shock, you slide the seven cups of iced coffee towards them, “Here you go! That will be,” you pause to press a few buttons on the cash register to get the total, “24.829 won please.”

Before Jungkook can grab his wallet, his friend has already handed you the money, “Keep the change,” he tells you, “and you don’t have to call me tip guy number 2, Namjoon will be just fine,” he winks and you laugh.

“Namjoon it is then.”

“It was nice to meet you ____.”

“You too,” you say, and he turns to Jungkook with both containers of coffee in his hands.

“I’ll wait outside,” he tells him before heading towards the door, not giving Jungkook a chance to protest.

Gesturing your thumb towards the door, you ask Jungkook, “Are you not going with him?”

“In a minute,” he tells you and pushes off the counter. “I wanted to ask you something first.”

Thud thud thud!

That is the sound of your heart racing like a freaking track horse in your chest!

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You can tell that he’s nervous. He has gotten way more fidgety in the last few seconds and he is having a hard time meeting your eyes all of the sudden.

“What did you want to ask me?” you swallow the big lump in your throat. Now, you are nervous too.

Rolling his shoulders, Jungkook breaths deeply and collects himself. Looking you in the eyes, he flashes you the most perfect smile you think you have ever seen, “I wanted to ask for your number.”

You stop breathing, “M-My number?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” you blurt, making him laugh.

“Because I want to keep talking to you, and I travel a lot for work so… it’s easier right now.”

Time seems to stand still as you process the situation unfolding in front of you. A handsome guy, whom you have only met twice – so he is really more like a stranger at this point – has just asked for your number because, he wants to keep talking to you, but his job makes it difficult...

Are you dreaming?

“You are not dreaming, no,” his laugh pulls you back to the shop.

Instantly, your cheeks heat up. At this rate all this blushing might cause permanent damage to your face, “Did I just say that out loud?”

“You did, but it was cute.”

Mentally you smack yourself for keeping embarrassing yourself in front of him! But more importantly, he just called you cute! Cute! Cute? Cute. Is that a good thing? To be called cute by the most gorgeous man on earth.

“So is that a yes?” he asks after the silence becomes too long.

It is not a dream, and a handsome guy really is standing opposite you, asking for your number. “Yes.”

First chapter!! YAY! I hope you liked it!! Remember to like or reblog!

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apathycares · 4 years

Text

Enraged

Warnings: high school AU, cursing, angry Sasuke

Pairings: implied Sasuke x Reader

Enraged, he slams his arm against the board, his long fingers itching to rip off the paper and burn it along with his crushed ambition. No one would see him do it as the halls were yet to be filled for another hour and the staff busy conversing in a closed-off area, but he was certain there were cameras everywhere and lifts his arm away.

The words glare at him and he glares back, willing it to burn as he wishes but he knew from past efforts that nothing could be done after this.

Konohagakure High School’s Top Twenty Honors Students 1. [Last name], [Name] 2. Uchiha, Sasuke

He never bothered to read the rest, as he was too preoccupied wondering how could this one person hold his deserved rank so unabashedly? He had spent too much time with his nose in his books and sleepless nights cramming, and he was yet again unable to outdo whoever this girl was.

He hears footsteps behind him not long after he sees a girl he had grown accustomed to. She would always come a half an hour after him and before the students and glance at the very sheet he spends seamlessly staring at. They’ve never spoken a word to each other and he sometimes wonders why she never seems discouraged but he doesn’t ask because that isn’t his business.

As per usual, she takes her glance and isn’t bothered by his presence, before sighing slowly.

“Are you unimpressed?”

He is just as surprised as she is by his random initiative to speak, but she recovers quickly and mats her hair as if in thought.

“Not really,” she says slowly, looking up at him with slightly squinting [colour] eyes.

He turns back to the large pin-up board and narrows his eyes at the first slot, before mumbling under his breath.

“Did you say something?” She asks while adjusting the large books onto her right arm, a sign that he’s come to know indicates she’s about to leave.

“I need more books.” He repeats a little louder, a frown marring his pale face when she laughs and waves him off.

“Studying isn’t everything Sasuke Uchiha.”

His frown becomes deeper and he stares as she turns away, and he doesn’t understand what comes over him when he asks, “What’s your name?”

Her eyes twinkle and she cringes a bit, a reaction which seems uncommon to him before she takes a deep breath and animatedly gestures flipping her hair off her shoulder.

“[Name].”

The air is basically knocked out of him as his lungs constrict and all the choice words he’d been saving up if he ever met her could not escape his lips. He had unintentionally been entertaining the enemy for years now and he never knew it?

She struts away sickeningly confident after shooting him a half-smile, and his hand unknowingly ball into fists. How hadn’t he known?

He finds her in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor, leaning against the basins while formerly reading what seemed like some notes. Her eyes are wide and she looks around dumbly and he wonders how on Earth she had kept the first rank when clearly she had no –

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” She states cutting off his internal monologue, though she is calm and her eyes momentarily stay on him.

“How are you first?” He asks impatiently, his teeth clenched and his fists balled.

“Well great magicians don’t tell their secrets, right?” She smiles as she jabs a finger to him, but he is not amused. [Name] drops her hand and purses her lips as she gazes at him in wonder. “You’re a hard worker, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” He asked incredulously, before scoffing. “Are you really….” He choked slightly, before furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, dude,” she sighed, “you can’t even say my name? Do you hate me that much?”

He didn’t. He actually thought she was the most laid-back girl, whenever they stared at the board together every morning for the past five years in silence, and assumed she could be the only friend he’d accept.

Before he realized she and his ultimate nemesis were the same person. How could he have not realized it? More so –

“Did you know?” he asked quietly, looking at her with disappointment. She nodded slowly and confirmed it. “I can’t believe this…”

They are quiet for a moment, for very different reasons, before [Name] smiles and attracts his attention back to her.

“I have a proposition,” she says while glancing at her watch, fifteen minutes before the first few students appeared. Sasuke folded his arms, and she took it as a sign that he was listening. “I can help you improve your grade without more cramming or new books.”

He scoffed indignantly. “Why do you assume I need your help?”

“I have this thing where I assume, and my assumptions are right, so I always go with the flow, you know? Hey, that rhymed! I’m a total genius!” She sighed and stared off for a moment. “What was I going to say?”

Sasuke stared at her incredulously. Did she have some sort of mental illness? Was it contagious?

“I must admit, the many years you kept growling at the board kind of made me remorseful, especially since I catch you studying more than you breathe, so I promised myself the moment you break the trend and talk to me, I would tell you where you went wrong and help you, okay?”

She spoke in such a sincere way; he almost apologized for snapping at her before.

Almost.

“Starting today, you will spend every free moment with me, and I promise you will see some improvement very soon.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how do I know you’re not lying?”

[Name] checked her watch, seeing only ten minutes left, before facing him with a bright smile, one which he’d correlated to ambition-less people.

“We have a pop quiz at the end of this week on Human Transport Systems, and I know for one your average score in Biology is 94 percent,” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and she sighed loudly. “I keep track of you just as much as you keep track of me, okay? Anyways, you follow my methods this week and I can guarantee you’ll get at least a 98 on this quiz. Though I need one thing and one thing only in return.”

There is a pregnant pause as he re-evaluates her claim. He had nothing to lose, as the coming quiz would not affect their overall grade and therefore if he did score lower than his average, it would not harm him too much. She seemed really genuine throughout her little explanation and he was planning on cramming to no end anyways. Was there really an easier method?

“Alright,” he decides, dropping the defensive stance and folding his arms across his chest nonchalantly. “What do you want?”

“It’s very simple really,” he has a clue on what she’d like just from her little smirk of triumph. “Your cooperation.”

…

What?!

“That’s it?”

“Well, yeah,” she shrugged, “It’s not like I proved anything yet so I’m in no place to ask for things.”

He recoiled abruptly. That made so much sense; why didn’t he think of it? Maybe she was really smart.

"Well then," [Name] awkwardly shifted her weight and looked away from his piercing gaze. "I guess I'll see you later."

Sasuke stayed rooted as she brushed past him in a blur and left him in the girls' bathroom. He was trying to recollect what had just happened, when he realized she hadn't mentioned a time he was supposed to meet her. He narrowed his eyes.

"Idiot."

-break- His lips were pursed in infuriation as he sat picking at his food. He was suddenly hungry and started to genuinely dig in, when his father erupted into a hearty, yet uncommon laugh. His elder brother received a pat on the back and the usual gushes of pride from the otherwise stoic Uchiha patriarch. He slumped his shoulders and his eyes stayed fixated on his plate.

"How about you Sasuke?"

The silence that followed his kind mother's question was suffocating. He hid behind his bangs when his father's smiling eyes turned stone cold when it landed on his youngest son, scrutinizing and unimpressed, just as they always were. He muttered a quick reply and got up abruptly. His mother stared sadly as he walked away.

Sasuke slammed his door shut, locked it, and lay back on his bed. Papers and books were sprawled all over the room, and he reminded himself grudgingly of the test at the end of the week he had to cram for. Consequently, a certain girl with a stupid grin popped in his thought. He couldn't understand how someone like her could ever achieve higher than himself, more so when she blatantly stated how she didn't study as much as him.

He sat up. Maybe she cheated some way or another?

Later, he was seated at his messy desk, highlighting important information in his biology text book and making notes on the side. The digital clock read 23:43, so he dropped his highlighter and pen and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He still had seven sections to go until he completed the unit.

Sasuke grabbed his phone and found a text message from an unknown number. He stared at the bright screen for a moment, before tapping on the notification.

Step one: No studying after dinner, assuming you eat by seven. And if you don't eat dinner then we have bigger issues. No skipping meals either dude. Please retire for the night.

He blinked comically. This was certainly her.

Sasuke growled under his breath and glared at the message as if it was [Name]. Who did she think she was telling him to go to bed?!

His phone vibrated and another notification came from the same number.

Remember our deal; you agreed to cooperate. Gosh Sasuke, I felt your malice all the way where I live.

Fine. Stop texting me.

He slid under his sheets and stared at his phone. Maybe this was his ticket to freedom; his route to receive that pat on the back from his father. He wanted to see how this turns out.

~fin

This was actually the beginning of a sasuke x oc story I wrote way back and never posted. I’ve got about a thousand of these and thought I’d edit this one and throw over here. Let me know what you think!

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