#I actually drew fresh on my school laptop

[a-kit-that-is-not-a-kat]

He's just vibing :)

The background was not done by me!

I used the Fantasy Night background on Ibis Paint X

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Unfulfilled

Ok so this was something I wrote a month ago, a simple idea that just popped up in my head. I kinda wanted to make this a series, and I still have the whole story, but I didn't think you all would like it, so tell me if you do! xoxo

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: fluff, cursing

Pairing: nerd!harry x nerd!reader

YN was stressed.

She had a physics exam tomorrow, and the constant flaunting by Harry wasn’t helping.

“I’ve revised thrice. And I am solving previous years’ papers for like, 2 hours now. I still don’t get this.” He sighed, listing up a plethora of achievements that YN was nowhere near.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. You’ve finished the syllabus and are way ahead of me. I am far behind and you’re solving questions. Happy?” YN replied, head pounding from the strain in her eyes.

“What? No! Who said I was listing all the things I’ve already done? And that you’re way behind?” He smirked, and she wanted to smack his face.

“Shut up” she finally said to him, and he started to pout.

“Hey, I was just teasing. Do you want me to help you?” he asked, now feeling a bit guilty.

“No, I’ll do it myself. I just feel a bit stressed.” you replied, placing a hand over your head.

“Let’s go for some coffee. I’ll get you a muffin too” he offered, and who were you to refuse free coffee?

“Sure” you smiled, and he dragged both of your chairs out, pushing them back in after you got up. You exited the library and he followed behind.

“You know you don’t have to worry so much. You’ve studied. I know you have.” he smiled reassuringly, and you could feel some of the tension slipping away, looking at his ridiculously cute dimples.

“Thank you. You are the only person who would say that and I would actually believe it.”

You entered the small cafe, ordering two decafs. You drank it on the way, and went back to studying at the library.

You and Harry were academic rivals, for as long as you can recall. Since high school to senior year, and then here you were attending the same grad school.

Here too, you fought like children. The competition was a bit tougher now, though, since you both wanted to get good placements, and keeping constant 9+ cgpa was a tough task.

Nevertheless, you had become friends.

Good friends, actually. You both gave the valedictorian speech together, and you had to spend a lot of time with him for it. It was then that you realized that he was not so bad after all.

He was quite caring. He constantly checked in on those around him, making sure they were okay, and letting them know that he was there for them. Even right now, he would make you drink water, shared his food with you, and gave you a head massage. He took you for coffee, so that you would get up from the depressing library and get some fresh air, before going back and diving back in.

He was quite balanced too. He was extremely good at studies, and managed everything else along with it.

Everything, which was almost annoying.

He went for a run every morning around the uni, and was ridiculously fit. He was tall, and had great hair. He played occasional basketball too, and there was a plethora of girls who attended the game just to watch him get hit in the balls with the basketball.

He would go to parties too, unlike you, who preferred to stay in and burn your eyes out on a new movie on your laptop. He drank beers, and looked better than you in the morning.

He was so perfect.

How did he manage to do that?

>>>

The exam day had arrived. You had been biting your nails since morning, and had to stop before you drew out blood and had trouble writing. He sent you texts throughout the morning, wishing you luck and encouraging you.

“Love, you’ll do well”

“Yeah, but not as well as you. How many times have you revised now?”

“Four. But-It dosen’t matter!”

“Yeah. Right.”

As if a stressed-and-not-even-revised-once head could compare to a i-revised-five-times one.

Turns out, it did.

On the day of the result, you had managed to bite through your skin, and drew out blood. Your roommate, Lizzy, had put band-aids on each finger, and scolded you for doing it. She wanted to tie your hands to the side even, so they won’t reach your vampire teeth.

As the professor was handing out the papers, you felt nervous. Everything you had written in the paper was coming back to you like an attack, and making you think you had done everything wrong.

Meanwhile, Harry was relaxed.

So relaxed.

He had his arms behind his head, and was leaning on to the backrest, looking like he owned the world. You did not anticipate the change in expression when he saw his score.

“What-?” you could hear the surprise in his shreik, and he pouted like a baby when the professor shushed him.

He was looking at the paper like it wasn’t his own, and as if he had been somehow betrayed.

You managed to walk down to his sheet while the rpof was distributing them to the last benches, and quickly grabbed his sheet to see his score.

“95. Are you mad?”

“Just 95”

He groaned and frowned, trying to take your sheet and see the score.

“What did you get?”

“Oh. I didn’t see” you were so engrossed in his score that you hadn’t even taken a glance at your own paper.

You pulled out your sheet, and glanced at the big red circle.

98

Holy shit.

“What the-” you stopped mid-sentence, and your expression now matched Harry’s.

“Fuckin’ hell” he snatched the paper from your hands, and frantically started to go through each question. Every question of yours matched his, except one. It was a 3 marker, and you had gotten it right.

“I solved this in like, 30 seconds. It’s ridiculous-” he held the paper up, reading the question, “-Is it easier to pull, or push?” he put it down, and said “ Pull. Obviously.”

“That’s not true. It actually depends on the situation. Plus, you had to give an example.”

“What did you write?”

“It depends on the situation. If you were to move a lawn mover, pull would be easy. If you were moving an almirah, push would be easy.”

“Shit” he looked sad and confused, and to be honest, you felt bad for him.

“I can’t believe you got more than me.”

“Yeah. Suck on it, Styles’”

“Hey! I helped you!”

“Well, you couldn’t even answer a push n’ pull question. Next time, I’ll help you” you couldn’t stop the big smirk that stayed on your face throughout the class.

And honestly, even Harry couldn’t stop the warm glow spreading across his face from seeing you happy.

(next part)

perfect dividers by @firefly-graphics

any feedback, like, reblog is very appreciated! xoxo

let me know if you like it! // my masterlist

tip me here if you feel generous!!

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[resi4skz]

CHAPTER 2

Pairing: Christopher Bahng x Aubrey Williams (OC)

Warnings: none for this chapter

This is purely fiction! MDNI

"Penelope, could you get some bookmarks from the back, please?"

"Sure."

"Thank you," I reply as I sip on my coffee while looking at the paperwork on my work laptop. Chris had emailed me them for me to sign and send it back. Picking up his card, I stare at his name and then glance at his number beside it. I bite my lip as I take out my phone from my hoodie pocket and open my messaging app. I type out his number and my fingers hover over the keyboard. Do I just say hi? Do I introduce myself to him? What the heck do I type?

Here goes nothing.

A: Hi, this is Aubrey.

I hit send and keep staring at the screen as if I was waiting for his reply. As I go to put my phone down, I feel it vibrate. It makes a jump a little. I look at the screen.

C: was wondering when you would text me. i was looking at my phone all day

I blink at his message. Was he expecting me to message first?

C: but now that you have, i can finally ask

A: ask what?

C: meet me outside

I tilt my head at his message and when it finally registers, I gasp and walk out to see him standing, looking all handsome wearing a black leather jacket and black jeans. "Hi," he smiles as I walk closer.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, a little surprised.

"Do you like coffee?"

"What?" I blink.

"There's this nice little spot that has the best panini sandwiches and very good lattes."

I frown at him. "Chris, you know I'm married."

"Stop assuming I'm asking you out. I just want to have a bite to eat with an old school friend."

I contemplate my options. On one hand, I can refuse and go back inside sipping my lukewarm coffee. On the other hand, I can go with him and actually eat for once. I send a quick text to Penelope letting her know I'm going on lunch break. "Alright, lead the way." His eyes light up and smiles. I'm starting to have a soft spot for dimples.

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

10 minutes later, we're sitting across from each other. He's got a club sanwich with green tea. Apparently, he's not big on coffee. Whereas, I got a chicken sandwich, a bag of chips and a vanilla latte. I take a bite of the sandwich. "Damn, you weren't kidding about these sandwiches."

He gives me a quick smile. "I'm glad you like them. They make fresh bread every day so that makes the sandwich taste more better."

I sip on the latte. "Troy never lets me eat out." I gasp immediately at the realization I said something I shouldn't have.

"And why's that?" He asks as he bites his sandwich.

I swallow. "He says it's all junk food," I lied. But the truth was he always made me cook, rain or shine.

"Seriously?"

I nod as I bite the other half of my sandwich. "Damn, these are like drugs. Why are they so good?"

He chuckles as he sips his tea. "I told you they were good."

"At this rate, I might eat another," I said as I watch him push the last half of his towards me and I look at him, confused.

"You can have the rest of mine."

"Wait, what? No." I push the plate back but he pushes it back.

"It's okay. I had a big breakfast."

He pushes the plate back. "Are you sure?" He nods and I smile as I bite his half of the sandwich.

**CHRIS'S POV**

As I watch her eat, I smile as I'm reminded of a memory from the past when we were in high school. It was the day when my mom packed me 3 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by mistake. So when it was lunchtime, Aubrey sat in front of me and just looked at others eating lunch. Which I immediately recognized that she had no lunch so being the nice kid I was, I offered her a sandwich which she gladly took and ate. It was when I offered the second one is where she drew the line. But I assured her and she gladly ate that well.

"So when did you get hitched?" I ask, as I take a sip of my tea.

"4 years ago," she replies, but her phone chimes. I watch her eyes widen when she looks at her phone screen before she's frantically stands up, putting her jacket on.

"Whoa whoa. What's going on?" I ask, also standing.

"Sabrina fell while she was restocking books and sprained her ankle," she answers.

I can see she's really worried as she always scrunches her nose when she's worried. It's adorable. "I'm coming with."

**AUBREY'S POV**

I sprint inside and see Sabrina sitting on a chair with an ice pack on her foot. "Sabrina, are you alright?"

"It's just a sprained ankle," Sabrina replies. "Sorry I broke a few shelves."

"That's not important right now."

Sabrina peeks behind me and sees Chris. "Uhm."

"Hey, Sabrina. I'm Chris," Chris bends down on one knee. "Do you mind if I take a look at your ankle?" She hesitates before nodding. He lightly takes her ankle in his hands and inspects it by lightly turning it which in turns makes her hiss in pain. "Yup. Sprained indeed." He gently puts her leg back down, placing the ice pack on her foot.

"Is it bad?" Sabrina asks.

"No. A week worth's of no weight on it should do the trick," he replies.

"A week?!"

"Sabrina, it's okay," I respond, assuring her. "It's not as busy anyways so just go home and rest." She nods and I turn to Chris. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A little later on, Sabrina's boyfriend came and picked her up, literally, and took take her home. Chris left right before her as he had a meeting with his cousin, Felix Lee. I on the other hand, closed the shop early since it was Saturday so I could go home and get ready for the dinner. I'm dreading it already.

When I got home, Troy was nowhere to be found so I just took a shower and started getting ready as we had to be at her house SHARP at 6pm, not a minute less or a minute more. She was really strict about these things. I had to learn it the hard way. Once, she purposely didn't make dinner just so she could make me cook because we were late by 2 minutes. That was the day I decided it was better to be right on time because I didn't want to make steak and mashed potatoes again.

Within an hour, I had done my makeup, hair and even put my outfit on by the time Troy came home. It took him half hour to get ready and we were out the door by 5:30pm. Georgia's place was a 15 minutes away by car. Knowing her, she would've made me walk and have her son drive. She greeted him very warmly at the door and even gave him a hug but when it came to me, all I got a half-assed smile.

We went straight to the dinner table and it was filled with pot roast and various side dishes. Just looking at it made me salivate. When we sat down, I noticed all the food was a little further away from me. So I reached for the roast and Georgia swatted my hand away. I looked at her, rubbing the back of my hand. "You can eat after we've eaten. Plus, I think you could lose a pound or two."

I shrank in my seat as I watch Troy and Georgia eat and laugh. My stomach growls but I place my hand on it telling it bear with it a little longer. I watch them eat and eat till there's no crumb left. I glance at the food and it's practically all gone. Why does she hate me so?

Ah, I see.

So I was just here to watch them have their fill because she only cooked for two. This type of thing had gone on for 3 years. 3 years I have had to put up with this. All the bubbles rising up to my chest as I clench my hands into fists. I bang my hand on the table startling both of them. As they look at me surprised so I smile. "I think it's best I go home. I have a big day tomorrow."

"But we're not finished dinner yet," Troy says.

"Oh, honey. Don't stop her if she really wants to go," Georgia says, again with the fake smile. "The walk can actually do her some good." I was on the verge of tears but I put another smile before I wear my jacket and walk out. Troy doesn't even try to come after me as I expected. Once I'm on the front porch, I finally let out a sigh of relief.

"Fucking bitch," I sniff as I fish out my phone. "I don't want to go home. And I certainly don't want to go back inside." I wipe my eye, pretty sure I smudged the eye liner on my face. Scrolling through my contacts, I debate on who to call when a message from Chris pops up.

C: hey bri. There's one form you forgot to sign. can you send it again?

A: ok

I start walking in the direction of my house when my phone rings. The phone screen flashes his name and I accept it, partly because I just wanted to. "Hello?"

"Bri? Are you okay?" He asks.

I stay silent. "Bri, are you there?" Fresh tears roll down my cheek as I let out a small sob. "Aubrey, what's wrong?"

"Chris."

"Aubrey, where are you?"

"Chris, is there something wrong with me?" I'm now sobbing on the sidewalk. I just wanted to disappear.

"What do you mean?" I hear a door close on his side.

"Am I that bad to be with? Am I that worthless?"

"Aubrey, where are you?" He asks.

I let out a cry as I keep walking and I'm pretty sure the neighbors are wondering why is there a crazy woman walking outside crying at this time of night. "Share your location with me. Can you do that for me, love?" I turn on the location and send it to him. "Perfect. Stay put. I'm coming to get ya."

I stop walking and hug myself as tears just keep falling. Stupid Troy. Stupid Georgia. I hate both of them. I hate myself for putting up with them for this long. I rub my arms as it's a bit chilly out and decide to sit on a curb. I bury my head in between my legs hoping to wake up from this nightmare. After a few minutes, I hear a car screech to my right. "Aubrey?" I whip my head to his voice. "Oh my god, Bri. Are you okay?"

Shaking my head, a few tears roll down my cheeks as he comes running, immediately kneeling down at my eye level. "It's always one thing with them. 'Why can't she pop a baby out? Why is it taking so long for you two to have a baby?' or 'Maybe if she lost weight, she would have no problem getting pregnant' Like it never ends with them."

He takes my hand and makes me stand, walking towards his car. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"My place."

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

The ride to his place was quiet. Too quiet. I kept glancing over at Chris to see if he would say anything. But he didn't. He blasted the heat in the car and in no time, I was warm again in no time. Before I could muster up the courage to speak, the car comes to a stop and parks in the driveway in front of a....holy that's a huge house. He opens the car door and I step out, in awe. "This is your place?"

"Yes. Now come on. Let's get you inside," he says as he l leads me inside the house.

And when I tell you that the inside was WAY cooler. The abstract paintings and the contrast paints on the wall, the furniture completing the whole look of the apartment. I watch as he disappears into a room only to come out a second later. "Here," he hands what looks like clothes and a towel. "Bathroom down the hall to the right."

I didn't question him and walked to the bathroom. Once I looked in the mirror, I gasp. My face had mascara lines running down my cheeks and lipstick smeared on my lips. After taking off my clothes, I hop in the shower and sigh in bliss when the hot stream of water hits me. Fresh tears form, threatening to fall as I hug myself suddenly feeling cold under the hot water. Why can't I be enough? 4 years and things were still the same with Troy. There was no excitement in being married anymore. Being with Troy wasn't fun anymore.

I come out of the bathroom wearing the clothes he gave me, which fit surprisingly. A sudden aroma fills my nose and my stomach growls. I walk towards the kitchen and see Chris by the stove stirring something in a pan. As he turns around, he stops when he sees me. "Wow."

"What?" I ask.

"You're beautiful."

My breath hitches in my throat as I blink at him. My heart starts beating fast against my chest. And I'm pretty sure I'm blushing. "Hungry?" He asks, going back to stir in the pot.

"Yeah, I could eat," I say, sitting on one of the stools by the kitchen island. I watch him moving around in his kitchen. Troy never cooked for me. It was always me doing the cooking and cleaning. Resting my chin on my hand, I admire his back, the muscles wanting to peek out. He then turns around and places a plate in front of me.

"Enjoy."

I stare down at the plate. He remembered? "This is..."

"Red rose pasta with extra cheese," he replied smiling.

"Thank you." I pick a fork and stab the pasta before putting it in my mouth. For the next few minutes, I chow down on the food and don't even realize when he filled my plate the second time. But the entire time I ate, he sat beside me, typing something on his phone. I felt a sense of....like someone willing to be there for me? I didn't feel alone. As I took the last bite, I lean back with a hand on my tummy. "That was so good. I don't think I can eat another bite."

He chuckles, taking the plate and quickly washes it before turning to face me. "Not even for ice cream?" He looks at me, chuckles before rummaging through his freezer and pulling out a small tub of chocolate ice cream. Opening the top, he puts it in front of me with a spoon.

"But I didn't say I wanted ice cream," I replied. I couldn't eat this. It will just make me look fat.

"I know," he says as he sits beside me.

My body reacts on its own and reaches for the spoon before stabbing in the ice cream. As I put it in my mouth, my vision blurs. When I take another bite, a sob leaves my lips but I take another and another till I'm full blown crying. What is wrong with me? I shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be crying. I wipe my face but fresh tears keep coming. "I don't know why," I say.

A pair of arms go around me, holding me close. "It's okay. Let it out," he says, gently patting my back. "I'm here."

Fisting his shirt, I let out all the frustration that I had bottled up inside me on his shoulder. I cried and cried till I had no tears left. I cried till I passed out in my seat, with his warm arms around me. For the first time, I felt like I existed as a person, not as a machine. I felt safe enough to be carried into a room, put to bed and being tucked instead of being taken advantage of.

A/N: aren't Troy and Georgia just peachy people.....

[disasterdrvid]

What are your top 10 video games?

Thank u @shift-shaping for the tag!

I'm tagging @localfruit @star--nymph @wardenrainwall @full---ofstarlight @perfectblve @sneklesbian @magic-space-games @notebooks-and-laptops and anyone else who wants/I may have forgot to tag <3

These aren't in any particular order tbh

Dragon Age: Origins

Genuinely this game has some of the best writing in the series and really wants players invested in their characters as character origins intersect with the main plot. Inquisition was my first DA game but Origins rewired my brain chemistry.

2. Pokemon Soul Silver

Not my first Pokemon game nor my most recent but it was the one that came at a pivotal moment in my life. Many weeks of coming home from middle school and ignoring my homework to run around in the game.

3. Stardew Valley

Absolute classic and one I consistently go back to. Sometimes I need to turn off my brain and yearn for the mines.

4. Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

I was never a Zelda person growing up, but I picked up BotW this year in time to play TotK. Oh my god, this game made me cry multiple times with it's lovingly-crafted story. I love the act of exploration in this game and it's encouragement to find multiple solutions to the same problem. Truly one of the best games of the last decade.

5. Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

This game is such a mess and I love her dearly for it. It's character creation and leveling system is one of my favorite in any game and I'm very glad traces of it exist in Starfield (I'm not playing but my brother is and there's a lot of Oblivion love in it).

6. Cult of the Lamb

A very fun gameplay loop and roguelike combat make this super fun to replay. I don't come here for in-depth story (I've compared it to Happy Tree Friends in that regard), but I love the cult creation and maintenance.

7. Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning

Underrated game of all time. It shows it age and there's elements of the story that don't work great but dear god I love it and I'm forever sad no one plays it. Lots of Irish folk inspiration, which I think would draw more people if they knew that was there.

8. Baldur's Gate 3

For context, I haven't actually been able to play but I've been consuming a lot of content for it so I know its up my alley. (My PC would explode bc I don't have the specs and it's not coming to Xbox for a bit 😭) But I love the characters and the DnD aspect so much.

9. Mass Effect

I'm not huge on shooters but the first Mass Effect really drew me in with its story. Not a perfect game by any stretch. However, it still feels fresh and new even now.

10. Tetris

Finally, original Tetris. Love me some shapes. First game I ever played because my mom had an old school Gameboy from before I was born that she handed down to me as a kid. Sadly can't play it on the original hardware (I still have it and it still runs!) because the screen is dogshit and I can't see, but luckily there's more places to play it now.

[haitaniplug]

CLASS PROJECT CHAPTER EIGHT

summary - you really want to go abroad for the summer, but your grades fucking SUCK, so your parents won’t allow you to until you get them up. you were so ready to focus on the rest of the year until you get partnered up with Rindou Haitani. The boy that comes into school once every blue moon. And to make matters worse, it’s a project where participation counts. So now it’s your job to harass Rindou into getting his shit straight.

tags - enemies to friends to lovers , angst , crack , college au, eventual smut , fluff.

status - ongoing

series masterlist

Taglist: @q-the-rockaholic @crown5 @gumiwaka @hiimviolet @gulfkfl @espinahei

+

“Okay, lookie here.” You pointed at the red squiggly lines on the screen, “Just click that and it fixes the spelling for you.”

“I feel so fuckin’ dumb.” Rindou rolled his eyes, leaning forward towards the laptop to fix his mistakes.

“Don’t feel that way! It’s kinda cute.” You said without thinking and Rindou turned to look at you.

You stared at him, not realising what just came out of your mouth. Rindou probably realised you had no clue what you said and felt like he was making a big deal out of it and shook his head, refacing the laptop.

“Do you live alone Rin?” You asked, “Everytime I come here, you’re home alone.”

“I live with my brother actually,” he said, eyes still fixated on the screen.”

“Ahh okay.” You nodded, looking around his house. “I really like your place. It seems so comfy and inviting.”

“Thanks.” He responded, not knowing what else to say to that. “When will I be able to see your house?”

“Um, maybe when pigs start to fly.” You chuckled, “my parents would never let me bring a boy over.”

“Your parents really suck hm?” He turned to face you, leaning his face on his palm, “not to be rude or anything— just you’re always complaining about them.”

“Well,” you began, “they’re the worst. But I love them. They’re so strict and care about my future more than me and my well being.”

Rindou nodded, staying silent letting you rant. “I could be passed out on the floor and they wouldn’t bat an eye, but if I fail a test— that’s bound to get a reaction from them.”

“Well damn—,” Rindou said, “sounds pretty hard to live like that.”

“It sucks yeah—,” you chucked, “but I’m used to it. Which is why I want to pass school and leave this place. Start fresh somewhere across the world.”

“Anywhere in mind?” Rindou grabbed a pen from the other end of the table, biting the lid off and starting to draw random shit on paper.

“USA to be honest. I always had a dream to just be somebody yknow? Cant be somebody here. It’s like, setting me back.”

“USA isn’t all that you know?” He turned to face you, “not to put you off or anything— just telling you to not be surprised if you spend all your money tryna get there just for it to suck.”

“Yeah but I’m willing to take that risk.” You smiled at him and he simply nodded. “Anyways, want to take a break?” He asked you.

You leaned over to look at the laptop, “you didn’t fix your mistakes Rindou.”

“Later, I want to go out. I’m bored.” He stood up from the table, tossing the paper he drew on into the bin.

“Go where?” You asked, your eyes following his own as he went to the front door and grabbed his shoes. “Anywhere I don’t care.”

As soon as he put his shoes on, Ran burst through the front door, almost hitting Rindou in the face. “Oh, my fault.” He laughed and rubbed Rindous head. “Where are you going?” Another voice came from behind Ran.

“Oh fuck no. Get out.” He pushed Sanzu out, but Sanzu shoved him aside, dramatically entering the living room. “Oh, hello there ma’am.” He winked at you and you simply waved, “hello.”

“RAN!” Sanzu shouted, “Rin has company,” you could practically hear the wink in his voice.

“Wait! No me and Rin aren’t—,” you stuttered, being too embarrassed to put the words together. “We are just working on the project!”

“Oh, so you’re his project partner,” Sanzu said, “Y/N was it?” He said the last part, turning to face Rindou, remembering the conversation they had the other day.

“Yeah, my name is y/n,” you shook his hand, “how did you know?”

“Rin’s been talking about you,”

“No!” He called out, removing his shoes, “No I haven’t. I just told you her name cause you’re NOSY as fuck.”

“Ran please get this pinkie out of here.” He faced Ran who just leaned against the wall, watching the entire thing.

“Y/n?” He suddenly called out to you.

“Yeah?”

“Mind heading upstairs with Rindou? I gotta take care of some things down here.” You nodded before he stopped you, “actuallt no— here.” He handed you some money, “you and Rindou go do some bonding, me and Sanzu have business to take care of in here.”

“Okay.” You smiled and took the money, walking over to the front where Rindou was too— putting on your shoes.

“Ready?” You asked and he sighed before putting his shoes back on and dragging you outside.

“Hehe, I love making Rin uncomfortable,” Sanzu’s scars stretched as he grinned from cheek to cheek.

[edupunkn00b]

Revisions, Ch. 6: They Were Roommates

Prev - They Were Roommates - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Tags: Human AU, Pining, Mutual Pining, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Slow Burn, Hanakahi Disease, Timeskip, Crossover, Fake Dating, Secret Royalty, They Were Roommates, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change - WC: 3221

Logan sat hunched over his laptop, typing at top speed, fighting to catch up. He wanted to publish a new chapter this week but lately, he'd been struggling with getting the words down.

Captain Data stood in front of the window in his Ready Room, hands clasped loosely behind his back. Instead of the usual streak of stars, the view outside the window was filled with the sight of Deep Space 6, the location of his first assignment. His first assignment with Geordi, that is. “Greetings,” he’d said as he stood and addressed the fresh-faced young ensign who’d just stepped through the door to their quarters. “I am Ensign Data. I gather you are Ensign LaForge.” He stepped forward and stuck his arm straight out before adjusting the height of his hand to align with Geordi’s. “Ah, hello.” Geordi’s eyebrows knit together above his Visor, but he smiled at Data. “If we’re going to be roommates, you should probably just call me Geordi.” Data nodded his head brusquely. “Very well.” He repeated his handshake gesture, including the two-step angle adjustment. "Greetings, I am Ensign Data. I gather you are Geordi."

A knock at his door drew Logan’s attention away from his story. He checked the time—not quite 11 AM. He wasn't late for lunch and had no plans with any of his housemates today. He cleared his throat and took another sip of his tea, then stood to answer his door.

Janus and Remus smiled back at him. “Hey there, Lo Lo… we missed you at breakfast.”

“Ah, yes, I…” Logan examined his room over his shoulder at the three tea cups and empty coffee cup littered around the space. “I woke early and then came back to my room to, ah… work on a lesson plan.” He shrugged. “I have been, ah, hitting a bit of a block on some subjects and—”

“Hey, can I help?” Remus slid past Logan and into his room. Logan rushed ahead of him and slammed down the lid of his laptop. He winced, hoping he’d managed to close it quickly enough for Remus to miss the bright red AO3 icon in the corner of his screen, but not so quickly that he cracked the screen.

“It’s… ah… it’s confidential material.” Logan moved between Remus and his desk, looking down at the floor. “It is covered by a non-disclosure agreement..”

“You’re under an NDA at a public school, Lo?” Janus asked, frowning. “That is… unusual.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “It’s for a new curriculum we’re piloting. You understand.”

Nodding slowly, Janus’ looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I believe I do, yes.” He paused, taking in the empty cups on Logan’s desk and the box of Sucrets on his nightstand. “Well, we didn't want to disturb you—" "Oh, no, you're not disturbing me at all," Logan interjected. "It w—was time for a break anyway." He smiled at the couple. "What can I help you with?"

"Actually, we never thanked you properly for coming to Remus’ rescue for the wedding.” Janus smiled. “We were hoping to take you to dinner tonight. Are you free?”

Logan had been resting his hand on the backrest of his chair in an attempt to obscure some of the detritus on his desk from their eyes. At Janus’ invitation, he jerked his hand, causing the chair to pivot. As the chair turned, the seat hit the back of his knees, buckling them and he fell forward, stopped only by Remus’ quick reflexes. “Lo Lo!”

Catching him just before he hit the floor, Remus carefully set Logan back on his feet. “Are you alright, Lo?” Janus was at his side, as well, one careful hand resting on his shoulder.

Face burning, Logan hung his head. “I am fine, I just caught my leg on the chair.” He closed his eyes, not thinking about Remus’ hands on his chest and his arms. Not thinking about Janus’ gentle touch on his shoulder. “I’m fine. Thank you, both.”

The trio was silent for a few beats until Remus bent sideways, lowering his head so that Logan would face him instead of the floor. “So… can we, Lo Lo?”

“Can you…?” Logan looked up and Remus straightened, grinning down at him.

“May we take you to dinner tonight?” Janus finished smoothly.

“Oh… Yes, tha—that would be nice.” Logan watched their smiles with some surprise.

Janus met Remus’ eyes and they both walked toward Logan’s door. “Can we meet you here at 8?”

Not quite trusting his voice, Logan nodded and they slipped out of his room, closing the door behind them.

It sounds like you have a date. It is not a date. They asked you to dinner. They are dating. I am their friend.

Logan shook his head, thoughts colliding against each other. He stared at his bed in front of him, wanting nothing more than to lie down and get his racing mind under control. Yes. A nap might do me some good. Give me a chance to clear me head.

~~~~~

By 7:30 that evening, Logan had showered, shaved, tried three different hair styles, and fourteen different ties for his very-much-not-a-date with Janus and Remus. He stood in front of the mirror, trying a different knot in his tie before finally pulling it loose again and re-tying it into its familiar Windsor knot. Perfectly symmetrical, automatically releases. The perfect knot.

Feeling the now familiar tickle in the back of his throat, he popped a numbing lozenge in his mouth and sat on the edge of his bed. After a moment, he stood up, double-checking that he had hung his towel evenly on the rack to dry—he had—and that he had put all of his dirty clothes in the hamper—of course he had.

Returning to his room from the en suite, he sat down at his desk and opened his laptop. A little writing would certainly help pass the time.

Ensign Data sat near the smallest window in the enlisted crew lounge. His hands were neatly folded in his lap, posture straight-edge perfect, eyes lowered demurely to the surface of the table in front of him. He waited quietly for his new roommate to return to their table.

Previously, he’d let his eyes scan the room, observing the way the humans and other organic crew members interacted in this informal setting. He’d watched as two crewmen nearly came to blows over a game of Fizzbin, and another pair were engaged in some sort of elaborate subterfuge.

“What the hell are you looking at?” one of the pair shouted at Data from across the room. Their partner tugged gently on their arm, murmuring quietly in their ear. Data looked back at the pair, eyes unblinking, head tilted as he attempted to process the new information. Eventually, the belligerent crew member’s partner managed to get them to sit back down and he leaned against their side, whispering in their ear.

“It’s rude to stare at people on a date, Data,” Geordi had said as he’d slipped into the seat across from him.

There was a knock at the door and Logan leapt up, knocking over his chair. “Ah, just a moment,” he called as he righted the chair and saved his work before closing his computer, and, after a few fumbled attempts, ensured with shaking hands that the charging cord was properly seated. He took one more moment to check his reflection in the picture frame next to his door, pushed a smile onto his face, and opened it.

“Lo Lo! Nice tie,” Remus purred, waggling his eyebrows. Logan looked down at the deep indigo tie he’d finally selected, belated realizing the tiny stars sprinkled across its surface appeared as green and yellow sparkles in low light.

Face flushed, he stuttered, “Th—thank you, Remus.” Logan looked from one man to the other and his mouth went dry. Remus was dressed in Doc Martins, tight leather pants and a forest green satin top that—just barely—draped closed in the front. He wore a thin silver chain around his neck with some sort of charm that nestled amongst the folds on his shirt. It shone brightly against his tattooed chest. Logan looked away too quickly to identify the charm. A matching silver chain was drawn between two of the piercings in his ear.

Janus wore a black three-piece suit and an open-collar lemon-yellow silk shirt that revealed nearly as much of his chest as Remus'. Three tiny gemstones sparkled in his ear. “Y—you both look incredible.” Logan bumbled out before he clamped his mouth shut as though that would somehow take back the words after they’d escaped.

“Why thank you, Logan my dear,” Janus responded with a smile. Offering his arm, he asked, “Shall we?” Logan started to step through the door, reaching for Janus’ arm.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Remus laughed, taking Logan’s other hand and hurrying him along into the hallway and closing his bedroom door shut.

Laughing and patting Logan’s hand where it rested on his arm, Janus said, “Lead the way, Muse.”

~~~~~

The trio sat together on the bench seat of Remus’ pickup truck. “I do not wish to sound rude, Remus, so please accept this in the positive sense in which it is intended…” Remus glanced at Logan with a grin.

“Oooh, you have me intrigued, now. I promise not to be offended, Lo Lo. Go for it.”

“Your truck is… immaculate. The last time I rode in it—”

Cackling and shifting gears when the light turned green, Remus interrupted. “Oh, fuck, yes! The last time you rode in it, the seats were covered in tempra paint from my last exhibition!” Janus shook his head, chuckling lightly.

“Your truck was quite a sight that evening. I never did get all the puce out of my slacks.”

“And now you have painting pants for when we make beautiful… art together.” Remus hummed happily, checking his blindspot before changing lanes. “You’re welcome!” he sang.

“Did you just make a Moana reference?”

“If you try to tell Ro Bro, I’ll deny it to my death.” The light ahead turned yellow and Remus slowed to a stop just as the light switched to red, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel to the beat of the radio’s soft music.

The light turned green and Logan watched as Remus paused for a half second, checking that the cross traffic was, indeed, slowing to a stop before driving through the intersection. “At the risk of instigating a brotherly fight, based on Roman’s stories, I would never have expected you to be such a safe driver.”

Remus smirked, glancing quickly at his passengers. “I guess I just have precious cargo tonight, Lo Lo.”

“I am assuming you are not referring to me, my dear Muse.” Janus laughed. Logan turned to Janus, brow furrowed. “I suspect my fingernails left marks on the doorstrap from when you topped 97 miles an hour on the way to the airport last week.”

“I got you there on time, didn’t I, Jannie?” Remus grinned at the next red light, blowing him a kiss. Janus’ only response was another laugh.

And Logan couldn’t help but join their laughter. “So do I get to know where we are going? I don’t believe I’ve been to this part of the city before.”

Janus shifted in his seat, turning to face Logan more fully. As Janus moved, Logan felt his knee brush along his leg. His face warmed and his laughter fell away. Suddenly Logan was grateful for the relative darkness of the truck’s cab. “We would like it to be a surprise, Lo, but if that makes you uncomfortable, I can tell you.”

Something in Janus’ tone softened the prickly butterflies in his stomach and Logan found himself smiling again. “Actually… a surprise sounds nice. I trust you.”

“Fuck yeah!” Remus cheered.

Peering through the windshield, Janus’ smile grew. “You’ve made excellent time, Muse.” He turned to Logan and let his hand rest on his own thigh, palm up. “We’re nearly there, Lo.”

Logan eyed Janus’ hand in the dim light of the truck. He could almost convince himself it was an invitation.

Almost.

~~~~~

Five minutes later, Remus was handing his car keys to a valet and the couple swiftly escorted Logan through two heavy oak doors. His feet stuttered to a stop just a meter inside, letting out a quiet gasp when his eyes trailed up at the deep indigo ceiling covered in twinkling pinpricks of light. His mouth hung open and he took in the sight, turning on the spot at the rendered constellations above their heads.

“They’re accurate,” he whispered to Janus and Remus, barely able to tear his eyes away. The pair grinned at Logan’s awe, stepping closer when he pointed to a star a few degrees from the center of the ceiling. “Do you see that one? It’s a bright blue star just below Orion’s belt?”

Remus and Janus stood on either side of him, necks craned, peering up where Logan pointed. “That’s Sirius.” His eyes scanned the sky. “Oh, and there? That bright golden star?” He smiled. “That’s Betelguese.” He grinned when Remus snickered. “The real one.”

They gazed up at the stars. “And up there… the greenish spot in the center of the ceiling…” He pointed again, and, when Janus’ brow furrowed as he searched the wrong area, Logan carefully lifted his chin until he saw it.

Logan looked away too quickly to catch when Janus stared at him instead.

“That’s Meissa and it’s actually three stars. The greenish glow is an optical illusion.” Logan peered up at the ceiling, a little breathless. “This is amazing.” He finally lowered his eyes and looked at his… friends. “Thank you for bringing me here. It was a wonderful surprise.”

“We’re so glad you like it,” Janus murmured. He stepped closer to Logan and then noticed the host approaching. He tilted his head, “It appears they’re ready to seat us.”

Within minutes, they were seated and served their drinks—alcohol-free for Remus, of course.

Theirs was one of the larger tables in the restaurant, each seating small and intimate, with a soft navy blue tablecloth, lit by a collection of candles and tiny star-shaped fairy lights. Quiet string music flitted through the air, the resonance sounding as though it was not a recording. Logan looked around the space, mildly confused, until he spotted the distinctive shifting shadows of a bow across strings and he noticed the balcony where a string trio quietly played.

The restaurant was magnificent. Tasteful, relaxing… romantic.

Logan cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink. “H—how did you two come across this place?”

Remus grinned. “I worked on the installation. In the daytime, the sunlight comes in through those skylights and you can see the detail in the ceiling.” He met Logan’s eyes. “I’d love to bring you back here sometime during the day so you can see it.”

Logan’s chest grew warm under the heat of his gaze and he quickly looked away. They don’t even have to try and I’m a flustered mess. He looked down at his lap for a moment and sipped his water. Finally trusting his voice, he said, “That sounds… quite nice.” Desperate to keep them talking so he wouldn’t have to, Logan fished for topics. “You know, I’ve heard how Roman and Virgil met…” He risked a glance up and he discovered he’d just ruined a moment between them when he caught them silent communicating something with their eyes.

They were too polite to not immediately look his way. He shrugged lightly. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard how you two met.”

Remus giggled and winked at Janus. “You tell it better.”

Blushing, Janus took a sip of his own water. “There really isn’t much to tell. We met in college, we shared a dorm—”

“We were roommates!” Remus cackled and, after a while, Logan and Janus couldn’t help but join in.

“You just wanted to say that, didn’t you?” Janus said between chuckles.

Rising slightly and leaning over the tiny table, he kissed the edge of Janus’ jaw. “Damn right!” Remus sat back down and leaned close and stage-whispered near Logan’s ear. “I told you he tells it better.” Once more, Logan was grateful for the dim lighting that hid the heat he felt crawl all the way up his neck when Remus’ mustache grazed his cheek.

~~~~~

They spent the rest of the evening telling stories and laughing. Discounting the night he danced with Remus at his aunt’s wedding, it was the nicest evening Logan had had in a very long time. Between the soft lighting, the intimacy of their small table, and—Logan had to admit—the alcohol, he was having difficulty reminding himself that this was not, in fact, some sort of… date. Remus and Janus both glowed in the flickering lights at their table. The candles made their eyes sparkle and it was all Logan could do to not let himself become lost in their gazes.

Logan was quiet on the ride home, wanting to soak up the warmth he felt sitting between them in Remus’ car. He paid attention to the rubbing sound of Remus’ pants against the seat as he moved his feet on the pedals. He smiled at the way the traffic lights seemed to halo through the windshield and how the passing streetlights cast ever-moving shadows across both of their faces. Janus’ leg touched his and he made no effort to move away, simply letting the heat from his skin seep through to his own.

After Remus parked, he got out and walked quickly around to the passenger side, helping first Janus, then Logan down out of the high cab. Logan stumbled slightly, falling against Remus’ chest and he froze, looking up into his smiling green eyes.

“Ah, you’ll get your sea legs yet, matey,” he joked, staring down into Logan’s wide eyes for several breaths. Finally, he stepped away, leaving one steadying hand on Logan’s arm. “C’mon, let’s get you both upstairs. A coupla lightweights, I think.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m happy!” Janus murmured, accepting Remus’ arm around his waist as he unlocked the door with one hand and led them inside the house.

~~~~~

After stopping by the kitchen for a couple of bottles of Gatorade, the pair stood outside Logan’s bedroom door, Remus with his arm wrapped tightly around a wobbly Janus.

“Thank you, again, Lo Lo. You really saved the day.”

“No no no no,” Logan shook his head. “Thank you both… for the stars, and the dinner and the….” He looked at Janus’ happy little grin as he laid his head on Remus’ shoulder. Logan swallowed against the lump in his throat and smiled. “Thank you for everything. I had a wonderful night. Perhaps… a little too much to drink… but a wonderful night just the same.”

Remus stepped back, guiding Janus back, as well. “Good night, then, Lo. Sweet dreams,” he said quietly. Janus made a little sound in the back of his throat and Remus kissed the top of his head. “You two should sleep this off.”

Janus frowned for a second, then sighed. His silly smile soon returned. “You’re right,” he muttered. “Good night, Lo. See you in the morning?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Good night,” Logan murmured and quietly shut his door.

Tag list: @mavenmush @melaniidarling @braingoburr @lunatatic @demon9980 @crossiantgay @psychedelicships @justmeandmygayships @ts-creator-boost @bluerosesbleedred @tsfanficarchive @tsshipmonth2020

[wooyunhwa]

kingdom of welcome addiction | C.S.

view pinned post for masterlist!

Genre: smut (mostly suggestive in this part though)

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: blood drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

If you had to read the words pythagorean theorem one more time, you were gonna smash your brains in. 

You reached over to your phone, unlocking your screen to the group chat. 

y/n: anyone wanna come over and help me with this dumb problem? my heads gonna implode. 

chaeyeon: busy tonight, Y/N. lol, just summon a demon or smth. 

yuri: lmao that ouija board is still there right? I think we left it under your bed 

chaeyeon: I don’t think you summon demons with a ouija board, yuri

y/n: ugh you guys are no help. brb, summoning demon...

You realized how weird this conversation would sound from an outside perspective, but it was a sort of inside joke you had within your friend group. You and your friends had joked about ‘summoning a demon’ before, and you’d even used a Oujia board a few times and done fake seances to freak each other out. The results were always disappointing—not that you ever actually wanted to contact the dead or anything, but you were at least hoping for a spooky story or something you could tell. 

You knew they were joking around, but your brain felt a little delirious from all the math churning it into mush. 

You switched tabs from your test, typing in the search bar “how to summon a demon”. You chuckled a little under your breath at the ridiculousness. But at least then you could tell your friends you actually tried. They’d get a kick out of that. 

You followed a few rabbit holes down some forums, mockingly reciting strings of incomprehensible Latin. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna commit fully. 

“You called?”

You scrambled backwards, nearly jumping a foot off the bed at the sudden unfamiliar voice echoing in the room. 

Then you saw him. 

He was perched on your bookshelf, one leg dangling lackadaisically over the edge, the other folded up at his side. You caught a glimpse of his piercing crimson-red eyes illuminated in the dim candle-lit room. He looked particularly cat-like in his position, a devilish grin painted on his face, what looked like fangs coming to two sharp points in his mouth.

The man picked up a pen from your bookshelf, twirling it in his hand casually with playful twists of his fingers. “You’re new…” he mused, glancing at you up and down. “And... cute. Fresh blood. How'd you get my number, hmm?”

You sat stunned, dizzy from confusion. Your words were lodged in your throat, unable to utter a single sound. This had to be a dream, right? Had you fallen asleep while working on your homework? It wouldn't be the first time.

He tapped his fingers impatiently against the oak of the bookcase, waiting for your next move. The only words you could manage came out in a hoarse croak, shaky and uncertain. "This—I'm dreaming…" 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue tauntingly against his teeth. "Oh, there's a lot of things I could do right now to assure you you aren't," he started, the gleam in his eye particularly sinister as he drew his gaze up and down. "But trust me. You wouldn't want that." 

“Who—”

“I have a lot of names, but you can just call me San. Your friendly neighborhood demon.” He flashed a fiendish smirk. “Well, maybe don’t linger too much on the ‘friendly’ part.”

“D—demon?”

“What, you didn’t know? You’re the one who summoned me, darling.” He drew out his words, slowly, carefully, continuing to play with the pen in his fingers. The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, as if he had the power to kill you at any moment. He probably did.  

He pressed his palms against the top of the shelf to hoist himself off, the books on it threatening to topple with the sudden movement. The minute he vaulted down from the shelf, you were able to get a better look at him. 

The first thing that drew your eye was his impossibly broad shoulders, accentuated by the tight cut of his shirt. It contrasted against his tiny waist, cinched in neatly with a belt. His proportions were unreal, and so very fittingly non-human. He was undoubtedly the most incredible sight you'd ever seen in your life, human or otherwise. He made his way over to the bed where you sat. You snapped your laptop closed, pushing it to the side, your blood turning to ice as he inched closer to you. The way he sauntered across the floor almost seemed like he was floating, like gravity was merely a fun game to him.  

He poised himself over you, his powerful stance alone commanding you to look at him. His fingernail dragged under your chin with a distinct sting, pulling your gaze up to his intense eyes. It was cold, like a dull knife, causing your body to tremble slightly. His piercing eye-contact was entrancing, even spell-binding—you couldn't tear your eyes away. "How cute," he teased sing-songily, “you’re a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, still pulled in by his magnetic gaze. “How did you—” 

"I can smell one from a mile away. The scent… it's just so…" he paused to lick his lips, drawing his tongue slowly over his black metal lip ring. "delicious." 

“Anyway, you must have had a reason to summon me, no? A soul to harvest? A sacrifice maybe?” Something about his tone was giddy at the idea. “At your service, darling.” He drew down in a playful bow, his mouth twitching into a smirk. 

You hated to say it, but he was entirely your type. From up close, you could see his other piercings more clearly, several earrings lining both ears, glimmering against the cartilage. His right eyebrow donned a shaved slit, decorated with another piercing. Of course the demon you summoned in your dream would be your ideal man. Well, he kind of looked like the edgy Hot-topic boy of your 7th grade self’s dreams, but you couldn’t deny that was still kind of your type still. His jet-black hair framed the sharp cut of his jaw perfectly—you were sure he could see you practically drooling over him at this point.  He looked crafted by heaven—hell?—itself.  

Even so, no single part of you desired for him to take your virginity right this second. Maybe under different circumstances, but not with the time ticking down on your math assignment and the fact that he was a fucking demon you just conjured into your room.

You shook your lewd thoughts out of your head, worried for a moment that demons might have some sort of mind-reading powers you weren’t aware of. “Well, uh, actually… I need help with my math homework.”

He snickered, his eyes trained on you like prey. “You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m kind of serious. It’s like 10% of my grade.”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth again, breaking eye contact finally, and you felt a sense of relief as you finally had a moment to breathe away from his suffocating glare.“For someone who just summoned a demon you’re a real buzzkill.”  He perched himself on the edge of the bed, resting his butt lightly against the edge of the frame. “Fine,” he groaned. “Let’s say I actually helped you. You know how this works, right? If I do something for you, you have to give me something in return.”

You gulped. This was a dream, it had to be, and the best you could do was go along for the ride. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel shaken, despite doing your best to convince yourself it wasn’t real—like some sort of subconscious defense mechanism your body employed in danger. And, well, he kind of seemed like danger. “Like what?”

“Well, normally...” He glanced back over, pinning you down with his gaze once again. “It’d be your soul.” 

Your breath stopped in your throat. You weren’t quite sure if you were ready to give up your entire soul for 10% of your math grade, although that was a pretty accurate metaphor for your college experience. 

“Your virginity maybe?” he hummed, drawing his tongue back over his lips, then, seeing your expression, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “No? Damn. It doesn’t hurt to ask.”

“Um… I can offer to make you dinner?”

He paused, his eyes widening for a second, then burst into a cacophony of laughter. It was the first time he broke his exterior, and for a moment, he looked a bit more human. “I’ll take it.” Then, more “but you realize a contract with a demon is binding, right?”

 “So, I’m contractually obligated to make you dinner, that’s what you’re saying?”

He paused, his smile turning amused once more. “Feisty. I like you,” he winked flirtatiously, sending heat rising in your cheeks. You hated to say it, but he was devilishly charming, on top of being probably the hottest being, human or not, you’d ever seen. 

You glanced at your phone, noting the time ticking down slowly but surely.  “Okay, I’m not joking. The math. My assignment is due in 45 minutes.” 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

He sat next to your side on the bed for a while, guiding you through the problems like some sort of hot e-boy math tutor. Not that you were complaining about that. The way he sat was surprisingly cute, one leg tucked up at his side, the other folded underneath him.

“Where’d you learn math, anyway?” you asked, admiring his immaculate side profile as his eyes trained on the laptop screen, typing the answers in. “They have like, demon school or something?”

He gave you a side glance, and you once again felt uneasy under the heat of his gaze. “A demon never reveals his secrets.”

“I thought that was a magician.” 

He visibly stifled a laugh, pressing his lips tightly to avoid giving you the satisfaction of breaking his serious exterior. “Can you be quiet? I’m focusing. I’m a demon, not a mathematician. This is way out of my scope of work,” he grumbled through his teeth. 

You watched him silently as he worked. As he typed, his tongue lingered just outside his parted lips in concentration. “Even you sitting next to me is distracting,” he hissed quietly. “You don’t realize what your scent is doing to me right now.”

Right. Your virgin scent. Was that really so appealing to him? 

“Fine. I guess I’ll go make dinner. You promise you’re gonna turn this in in time?” 

“I’m contractually obligated,” he responded dryly. 

You hoisted yourself off the bed and headed to the kitchen to make dinner,  but something about leaving a stranger in your room felt strange. No stranger than accepting he was a demon, though, you supposed. 

You returned with a large plate of pasta, pretty much the only thing you had on hand. He received it apprehensively from you. 

“What?” you asked, offended at his look of disgust. “Sorry, I didn’t have any fresh human souls on hand. My bad.”  

You sat across from him on the bed, watching in fascination as he nibbled slowly at the thin spaghetti noodles. “You have any hot sauce or anything?” he asked, wincing as he took a few more bites. 

“I barely had enough pasta to feed two people. I’m a broke college student. Anyway, I never forced you to accept the dinner offer.” 

“I didn’t think it’d be so bland. What, you didn’t know demons prefer spicy food?”

“I didn’t know demons existed until today. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. This is all a dream I’m going to wake up from in a bit anyway.”

A wicked smirk danced up on his lips again. “Oh, you still think it’s a dream? Cute,” he sang condescendingly. “Well, then I guess it wouldn’t matter if I did this...”  

Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as he crawled forward on his palms. You felt his breath linger on your neck first, then the gentle scrape of his pointed canines against your sensitive skin. Every hair on your body stood up. He pressed them down slightly, just enough to feel the tension on your flesh. Then he bit harder, nearly piercing as he sunk them in.

You reeled back, shoving him off you breathlessly. “What the fuck-”

“You still think it’s a dream? Then it wouldn’t matter if it sunk my teeth in. You’d just wake up, right? Isn’t that how dreams are supposed to work?” he taunted, a smile curled up on his lip. His fangs gleamed under the still-dim light of your bedroom. “Humans are so amusing,”   

You wiped at your neck, rubbing circles where his teeth pinched your skin. He sat himself upright again and stood up from the bed. “Well, my end of the deal is over. Consider you released from your contract.” 

“You’re leaving?”

“Well I’m not gonna stay here.” His hand came up to his ear like a phone. “Call me if you have a soul to harvest. You know my number.” 

He was gone before you could blink, like an apparition, disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared. Your eyelids grew heavier as you reflected what had just happened, and you wondered what would happen if you fell asleep in a dream. Would you just wake up? 

You collapsed into bed, still unsure whether or not the past few hours had actually happened or not. Part of you hoped they had—there was something about him that was so deeply captivating, you would do anything to see him again. 

As he said, you did have his ‘number’.

You woke up dazed, still unsure if you had dreamt the events of the night before. The only sure way to know was to check your assignment—if you had really fallen asleep while doing your homework, you wouldn’t have turned the assignment in, right?

You opened your online class page, scanning for the assignment, and there it was, in bold letters: 

Submitted: 98%. 

Your breath caught in your throat. You felt two distinct emotions: relief that you got the assignment turned in, and complete disbelief that your encounter last night was not part of your imagination.

You could summon him again. 

He seemed about as harmless as a demon could seem. At first, he had been entirely intimating—his aura made it seem like he could have eaten your soul right there with no second thoughts. But watching that powerful being, capable of so much evil and chaos, do something as mundane as your math homework… that was the most entertaining, and almost adorable thing, you’d ever witnessed. 

Besides, you had something he desired, something you could dangle in front of him to keep him coming back. You had your virginity, which seemed to be the ultimate prize for a demon like him. The way he had talked about it last night, it seemed you were irresistible for him. But he also accepted your rejection so easily. 

As long as you kept drafting up meaningless contracts, he had to oblige, right? You weren’t sure exactly how it worked, but that’s how it seemed from your interactions last night. If it worked like you thought it did, his job as a demon was to make a contract with his summoner, no matter how insignificant, as long as he takes something in return. 

That night, you read the same latin phrase you had before he’d appeared, this time off a sticky note push-pinned in your wall. 

You heard him again before you saw him, and you whipped your head around to see where he was standing behind you. 

He wore the same playful, devilish smirk, displaying his fangs. “Hmm, you decided to let me harvest your soul now, have you? That was quick.”

It had barely been 24 hours, and yet you’d already forgotten how incredibly hot he was, for lack of a better word. Your lips parted slightly in awe, forgetting for a second to formulate a response. 

“I hope your silence is a yes,” he interrupted. 

You shook your attraction to him out of your head for a moment, remembering what you brought him here for. “I want you to clean my bathroom.”

He laughed in disbelief, plopping himself down on the bed. “I’m sorry, you want me to what?”

“That’s how this works right? I summon you and do what I want. And I give you something in return.” You leaned against the desk behind you. 

“What am I, your errand boy?”

“But that is how this works, right?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. “Yes,” he grumbled reluctantly. “But what do I get this time?”

“I cook you dinner again.”

“I’m gonna need more than that.”

“I’ll let you bite my neck. Draw blood if you want.”

His eyes widened at your proposal. His reaction confirmed your suspicion—the blood of a virgin must be like crack to a demon like him. His face went flush. “Deal,” he confirmed eagerly. 

You watched him as he cleaned, and there was something satisfying about watching this bloodthirsty demon scrubbing the bathtub on his hands and knees. He almost looked a bit pathetic. You stood in the door frame, unable to help from grinning at making him perform such menial tasks. A lot more was at stake now than just dinner, so you might as well have some fun with his end of the bargain. Even on his knees, you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. Every part of him was sculpted immaculately—his appearance was distinctly human, and yet he was in all other ways otherworldly. 

“I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to some human’s lowly errand boy,” he hissed through his teeth. 

“Less talking, more scrubbing,” you demanded with a smirk, and he shot you a deathly glare. 

You followed through with your promise of dinner, and this time you came prepared with hot sauce. He devoured it eagerly, and you felt proud for making a dinner worthy of a demon’s praise. 

But there was still one more promise you had to follow through on, and the thought made your head spin.  

He sat across from you on the bed, eyes trained on your neck in a very un-subtle display of desire. You’d never felt so wanted, even if it was just the thought of your virgin blood that had him practically drooling. 

“You sure about this?” he asked hesitantly. It was strange that he was even asking permission, as he seemed so eager the other night to just sink his teeth right into you. 

“I’m contractually obligated,” you teased dryly. Then, more seriously, “But yes, I am.” 

He placed his left hand on your neck, steadying it in place. His fierce, almost predatory gaze washed over you completely. 

He leaned forward, parting his lips to drag his teeth gently along your neck. You tipped your head back, giving him a better angle. He teased there for a while, lingering his sharp canines on your skin. His breath was hot and heavy against your neck, the warmth of it sending chills rocketing down your spine. Your lips parted slightly, gentle moans escaping at the sensation. The situation was predatory, and yet it felt completely sensual in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

He paused for a moment, lips fluttering over your skin as he spoke. “You have no idea how hard it is not to completely drain you,” he whispered, voice dripping off his tongue with a sort of lustful hunger. “I promise I’ll only take a bit.”

He sunk down, and you heard it before you felt it—the distinct sound of teeth piercing flesh. You cried out a bit, bringing your own hand to your mouth to muffle your whines. It stung a bit, but in a twisted way, there was something about it you liked. You felt his tongue draw over your wound slowly, lapping deliberately at the fresh blood like a starved animal.  

He moaned against you, and it echoed in your ear like the most divine sound you’ve ever heard. He may have been a demon, but his noises sounded like they came from heaven itself. He pulled your waist against his as he slowly bathed his tongue over the punctured flesh, his fingers squeezing as he grasped at your waist. He littered a few faint kisses across your blood-stained skin, moving slightly down towards your shoulder blades. The sudden sensation drew soft, pleasured moans from your lips. 

As he finally pulled away, parting his lips tenderly away from your skin, you caught the faintest glimmer of his blacked-out eyes before they flickered back to normal. His deep red irises sparkled like rubies as he maintained eye contact. He brought one of his hands up from your waist, gently wiping at his blood-stained lips with the back of his palm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself for a second. Your skin tastes so sweet, like candy,” he praised softly, voice deep and wanting. “And your blood, fuck—it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted.”

The seductive gleam in his eye signaled that you had awoken something in him, something you hadn’t meant to. He was still holding you, probably without even noticing, but you didn't want to draw his attention to it quite yet. You wanted to experience it for just a bit longer if you could. Something about the way he held your waist against his made you crave more of him. 

Almost as if a switch flipped, his expression went dark, his fingernails suddenly digging all the way into your waist. You yelped in pain as he nearly punctured the skin through your clothes. “I need you to walk away from me right now. Before I do something I’ll regret,” he growled. You watched as his eyes flashed to the same demonic black for a moment. 

You gulped, slowly backing yourself away from him, scrambling off the bed. "Farther," he groaned painfully, his breathing becoming heavy and labored. His hands clenched at the blanket on the bed, balling into restrained fists. "Now."

You ran from the room, your feet moving before you even knew where they were taking you. You ran all the way down the hallway to the front door, sliding your back down against it as you collapsed to the floor. Your limbs shook weakly, trying to calm yourself down. You must have sat there for an hour or more, completely frozen, not quite aware of the passing of time. You wiped the blood of your neck, but it didn't do much, smearing it across. 

When you managed to finally stand up again, you made your way hesitantly towards the door of the bedroom, swinging your head around the doorframe first. 

"San…?" you called apprehensively.

But he was gone, leaving only a light imprint on the sheets of the blood-stained bed and two deep punctures in your neck to remind you he was ever there.

[to be continued]

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 11: Intruloceit (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

The sequel y’all were waiting for! (@hoppe-ideas)

Day 11: ‘Choose your own adventure’ day! I chose to continue from Day 9, since I couldn’t very well leave it there.

Content warning: allusions to abuse, Remus being Remus (need I elaborate?), implied past panic attack, mention of bipolar disorder, and of course, Janus’ crippling insecurities. Angst with a happy ending. 

Word count: 4k

*READ DAY 9 FIRST*

Blue: What time are you available?

Green: What is this, a doctor’s office? I’m free after lunch 

Blue: I was merely tr

Green: I know, I know. I’m just teasing you. It’s endearing, my little mocking-nerd. Bring your textbook, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria. It’s octopus learning time!

Blue: I will never understand you.

Green: Good 

He drew a crude rendering of the devil emoji, then a heart, and the conversation ended as quickly as it began.

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

Green: What would happen if you injected coca cola into your bloodstream

Blue: No.

Green: It’s just a question!

Blue: I’m assuming you would die.

Green: Damn. Can we try anyways?

Blue: No!

Green: C’mon, for science?

Blue: NO! Why did this question even arise?!

Janus hid a small chuckle, before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. Even if the writing was as much on his arm as it was theirs, it still felt wrong to read it. Felt wrong to admit that he was starting to enjoy their shenanigans.

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

Green: Hey

Blue: Hello, my dear. What is so important that you couldn’t text me?

Green: my mom broke my phone and I’m having an attack

Janus sat straight up, his calligraphy pen clattering to the floor, effectively ruining the large swooping letters he was working on with a splattered gold streak. This was the first message the two had shared that wasn’t either Blue’s notes about homework or Green’s odd creative ideas, or cheesy conversations between the two that Janus tended not to read. It felt like intruding on someone’s life. He hadn’t learned their names yet, and while they always stuck to the same color scheme, he knew at this point he’d be able to distinguish their handwriting with no hesitation. It was his version of hearing their voices, and he’d started growing attached to them. He turned his full attention to the conversation on the back of his arm, feeling a surge of worry.

Blue: I’m on my way, be at the curb in ten minutes?

Green: thanks

Blue: Remember those breathing exercises. Try to stay calm. 

Green: please hurry

Blue: I’m driving as fast as I can, love.

The messages ended there, and Janus didn’t sleep that night.

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

Blue: Happy birthday, Remus. I hope you have an amazing day.

Remus: Are we still good to go for tonight? 

Blue: Of course. I had Roman and Patton help plan most of the date, so I hope you enjoy it.

Remus: Logan, if it’s with you, I will~ 

Logan: You’re a sap.

Remus: And you love it

Logan: Guilty.

Never had Janus felt so alone. It was one thing to have anonymous messages scribbled on your arm, little doodles and good luck wishes, but to know their names? That brought on a whole new round of tears that he hated himself for. Remus and Logan. The names of his so-called soulmates, the labels he could finally put to the personalities. As much as he hated to admit it, waking up had become a whole lot easier since they’d started appearing on his skin. It was something little to look forward to.

It also hurt, just a little bit more. Before he was eighteen, he’d been able to imagine his situation like his parent’s, with a soulmate who would end up hating and hurting him, and it was easy to decide to never communicate when the time arrived. And even if they seemed like genuinely good people, every time he lifted a pen to respond, to announce his presence, he stopped himself, as his father’s words rang through his head.

Why would anyone want you, Janus?

You’re a mistake, and they’ll see that instantly.

Honestly, what good do you even have to offer a soulmate?

He didn’t want them to be true, but it wasn’t like anyone had ever told him differently. His mother avoided his eyes and was silent, his peers treated him like a disease, so those words were the ones he started to believe. So he capped the pen, pulled his sleeve down, and ignored the small feather light tickles as they spread across his arms. 

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

Of course, it wasn’t avoidable forever. 

It was writing on skin, did he think that was something he would never do accidentally? Was he really that stupid? They were going to be so pissed when they found out how long he’d been snooping on their conversations. They’d hate him. They’d never be open to the idea that he was somehow meant to be in their lives. He was done. He was such an idiot.

These were the thoughts raging through his mind as he looked down over himself in shock, spilled amber ink shimmering on his skin. It was an accident; an opening of an ink pod combined with over enthusiastic dancing to the Chicago soundtrack, leading to a faltering concentration and skin covered in staining gold. He’d been sitting cross legged on his chair when the cartridge exploded, and he’d bounded to his bathroom to try and wash it off, but it had only been partially successful. There was no doubt in his mind that they would see it. It had covered a good majority of today’s messages on his arms, smeared across his shins from hurriedly trying to wipe it away, and speckled across his face like the world’s most unfortunate freckles. 

He dropped back into his chair, his music now turned off, and laid his head on the cool wood of his desk. The ticking on his clock was the only sound in the room and he counted each one, mentally marking the minutes as they passed by. Waiting. Five minutes of silent fear had passed before a new anxiety began to rise in him. What if they were his soulmates, but he wasn’t theirs? He’d heard of it happening, ever so rarely, that soulmarks weren’t reciprocated. If that was true for him, and he was starting to become sure it was, they wouldn’t see the ink. They never would. He would be forced to live the rest of his life on the outside, reading their life on his skin but never able to take part. Somehow that seemed a lot worse now that it wasn’t his choice.

Just as he was starting to spiral, a familiar tickle on his arm snapped him back to the present. His head jerked up, hair falling into his heterochromatic eyes as he followed the dark blue script, starting just under the largest golden spill.

Hello? 

And how should he respond to that? He couldn’t think of a fun one liner, a sassy quip, to introduce himself. For the first time in his life, lying wasn’t an option, and he hated that. He grabbed the first pen he could grab, a black ballpoint, with shaking fingers.

Hi. Well, that was lame. 

You’re our soulmate. It was less of a question, more of a statement. Janus took a deep breath, bringing the pen down again.

Yes. 

I’m sorry. What he was apologizing for, he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But it felt right. Apologizing was simply second nature to him.

Whatever for?

He didn’t know how to answer that time, so he did what he always did best, and watched. Waited again, hoping that Blue (Logan, he remembered vaguely), would just drop the subject. This was the most conversation he’d had with someone in a while. 

My name’s Remus. The other dork is Logan. 

The green ink appeared under the blue, and Janus’ heart dropped painfully in his chest. As if he didn’t already know their names. It’s not as if he could say that, though. 

You seem kinda shy. It’s cute 

Let them speak, Remus. 

Both of them went silent, offering time to allow Janus to write. But he didn’t know what to say, how to explain… 

So he didn’t. He yanked down the sleeves of his pajama top, pulling the edges over his hands to hide the now dried golden  ink, and collapsed onto his bed, dooming himself to another night of restless sleep. 

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

If Janus had the choice, he wouldn’t have gone to school the next day. He would have laid curled up under his blanket, struggling to tune out the sound of his parents arguing, letting the world pass him by like an old camera reel. Janus didn’t have the choice though, not when he remembered it was nearing the end of the year and exam season was drawing closer, and then the bickering downstairs became motivation. Good grades would equal an out-of-state college, which would mean getting away from thrown dishes and slamming doors. 

Even so, that didn’t mean that Janus didn’t regret the entire day of school. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when the lunch bell rang and the students shuffled out of the class in a lump, leaving just him and Mr. Sanders behind, as per usual. Just as he reached down to pull his lunch out of his bag (just a handful of cold scrambled eggs he had set aside from his already meager breakfast), the teacher spoke.

“I actually have a meeting today, Jay. You’re gonna have to find a different place to have lunch.”

“What?” Janus recoiled as he spoke, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He hadn’t meant to talk back, half expecting a lecture, and was surprised when the teacher’s expression morphed into one of sympathy.

“Sorry, bud. It’s a staff meeting, and I couldn’t find a TA to watch the room over the break. It’s only for today. Cafeteria is open though, I’m sure you can find an empty table there. Or better yet,” He smiled softly, lifting his laptop bag onto his shoulder, “Sit with someone. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Janus picked up his bag as well, rushing from the room without a second glance. He didn’t feel like explaining that the reason he sat alone wasn’t his choice, and he couldn’t help it. He was just tired of being pushed away, so why not make the first move himself. 

The path to the cafeteria was hardly trodden by him, and he tried to take in the pictures of past grad classes on the wall for as long as possible before his time was up. The security guard marching the halls gave him a pointed look, reminding him that he couldn’t stay in the hallways during lunch, so he hunched his shoulders and walked into the lunch room. He cursed the weather under his breath for being so damn hot today; he would melt in his hoodie and gloves to cover the ink. Luckily the splatters on his face blended in enough with the skin tone to be unnoticeable. 

The first thing he noticed is that it was loud. People shouted, trays clattered, and Janus wanted nothing more than to curl up in his hoodie. Social interaction. Gross. The second was that Mr. Sanders had been right, there was a line of empty tables at the back that people seemed to avoid in favor of grouping together in the center. The third and final thing was the overwhelming sense of loneliness that flooded Janus as soon as he walked in. Sitting alone in an empty room was one thing, choosing to sit alone in a crowded room was another. 

For a split second, the teacher’s words ran through his mind, and he wondered briefly if he should join a group, only for his anxiety to immediately shut the idea down with a shriek of are you crazy?!

He chose the closest table to the door that was untouched and sat hesitantly, appetite lost. All he had to do was get through an hour of this, he thought painfully. If he paid close enough attention, he could tune into other people’s conversations, and if he closed his eyes and drifted far enough, he might actually imagine that he was a part of them. 

“Hi!”

Janus’ eyes shot open and he shrunk back as if he’d been slapped. Standing in front of him was a guy he recognized from his math class, bouncing on his heels enough to make his blonde curls fall into his eyes. He was grinning from ear to ear, gleaming teeth matching the white collar that stood out from under his blue sweater. 

“Do you want to sit with us?”

His critical glare didn’t deter the overly joyful guy as he gestured over Janus’ shoulder, encouraging him to look. He did, albeit reluctantly. Four people were sitting at the table behind him, three caught up in a spirited conversation. The last one was staring back at him owlishly through thick square glasses, and surprisingly, Janus wasn’t unsettled by the look. 

“Come sit with us!” The happy guy said again, looking like he was refraining himself from just grabbing Janus and pulling him over. His round glasses had started edging down his nose as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Please?” He drew out the word for several seconds. Janus couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, nodding mutely and gathering his backpack. His anxiety started again, pelting him with ‘they’re going to hate you’s and ‘this changes nothing’s, but he pushed them down resolutely. It was just the one meal. Tomorrow would be back to normal, eating lunch by himself in Mr. Sanders’ room. And he really couldn’t say no to that hopeful face. 

“Yay! Okay,” He led Janus to the table, dropping into one of the two empty seats and pointing to the one next to him. He took a deep breath before gushing on, “Sit! Okay, okay, okay, so I’m Patton, purple-hair is Virgil but they hate the name so you can just call them V. We all call them V. That’s Logan, and the twins are Roman and Remus. Remus has the white streak, but it’s actually really easy to tell them apart once you get to know them.”

Janus’ blood froze in the middle of Patton’s gleeful rant. Those names… those were all the names that kept popping up over the five months of secret soulmate snooping. That wasn’t a coincidence, right? Most of those names weren’t exactly common.

His eyes shifted to the two Patton had introduced as Remus and Logan, sitting shoulder to shoulder across from him. Remus had halted whatever he was talking so animatedly about in favor of greeting the newcomer, but Janus couldn’t get himself to wave back. Instead he dropped his gaze to their loosely intertwined hands on the table, feeling somewhat lightheaded at the identical golden stains covering both of them. 

So... he ran. He wasn’t proud of it, and he was somewhat certain that he’d made a scene, but he couldn’t do it. His own self doubt was crippling, all his fears rushing him full forced and reminding him just how little he mattered, how messed up his life had made him, how he would only ruin any possible relationship. This was all too real now. They fit so well to the picture he had unintentionally made of them in his mind; navy blue button up tops and slicked back hair, green bomber jackets and mussed up shoulder length curls. Eyes that glinted with barely concealed mirth, a dimpled grin revealing almost razor sharp canines. Two polar opposites, so perfectly built for each other, soulmates. He would just come along and ruin it. 

Screw the sun, he thought, as he sat on the scalding hot bleachers by the football field. To his extreme annoyance, tears had started drifting down his cheeks, and he hurriedly wiped them away from sheer habit. His dad didn’t like tears almost as much as he didn’t like Janus. It wasn’t like they would know it was him, right? All they knew was a stranger had been invited to their table and had booked it before they even got his name. So he could stay a mystery, a fly on the wall, for the rest of his days.

The all too familiar feeling on his arm was more of a curse now than it ever had been. Resigned to his fate, he rolled the sleeve up to read whatever the two were no doubt talking about. 

Hi. 

He looked around frantically despite his better judgment, his eyes landing on a figure standing at the end of the bench, uncapped pen in one hand and one blue sleeve rolled up. Logan regarded him with a careful look, locked in a staring contest that neither wanted to look away from. The other broke first, turning his focus to his steps across the rickety surface as he approached Janus. He took a seat, mumbling something about how hot it was, before scribbling something else onto his arm and capping the pen. Janus tried to fight the urge to look down at his own still-bare arm, but he couldn’t resist a quick peak.

I found him. Bleachers in the north field.

“Why don’t you take off the gloves, at least. It’s almost ninety degrees out.”

Welp. Apparently this was happening. “How did you know?” He whispered, not touching his gloves.

“Remus and I both felt naturally drawn to you as soon as you walked into the cafeteria. We could not and still can not explain it. When Patton followed our gaze, he was more than eager to invite you over. Not that he needed the prompting, I am certain he would have invited you over regardless of Remus’ and my feelings the moment you sat alone,” Logan stopped briefly, taking note of the new green smiley face under his last message, “Your reaction to our names and hands in rapid succession was enough to solidify our previous suspicions. That-” He pointed to the shared messages on their skin, “-was the final proof I needed.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Janus at a complete loss for words, until a loud clang to their right grabbed both of their attentions. Remus was clinging to the railing like a vine, having climbed all the way from the bottom, he realized with a start. The older man crawled over the top and landed solidly, rattling the seats, before bouncing over to them.

“Hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi!” He plopped onto the bench in front of Janus, sitting backwards to face them. Consequently, he was slightly lower than the other two, and could see Janus’ usually ducked face for the first time. “Oooh, I like your birthmark! Is it a birthmark? Or a burn? Either way, I don’t care. I like it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Janus snarked before he could stop himself, his self protective tendency rising to the surface. Remus only giggled in response, manspreading a tad more and leaning forward on his elbows. 

“I like him, Logan. He’s feisty.”

“I’m so glad I have your approval.” He was on guard now, he couldn’t help it.

“Remus, stop pestering him. He just met us.”

Remus grumbled under his breath but held his tongue. Logan could silence him, he’d have to remember that for the future. If they had a future. He couldn’t help the sliver of hope since they had actually come to find him… but maybe it was to let him down easy. No clue.

“When did you turn eighteen?” The question shouldn’t have shocked him the way it did; it was a valid thought.

“Five months ago.”

And he waited, expecting the worst at the sharp intakes of breath from both of them. Expected them to stand up and leave. Expected them to call him a creep. Expected them to… anything, really. 

Well, anything except take his hands. Which they both did.

It was like they could speak telepathically, the way they seemed to be so in sync. Maybe that was a soulmate thing. Remus reached forward and weaved their fingers together at the same time that Logan placed his hand over Janus’ left one, squeezing it gently. They were both calming gestures in their own ways, and admittedly the most contact Janus had felt in maybe years. If that wasn’t enough to bring back his tears, Logan’s next words certainly were. 

“Why didn’t you write right away?”

“That’s so much missed time we could have spent together,” Remus chipped in, eyes surprisingly soft. 

“I…” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Better let them see how messed up he is now so they can walk away before he gets attached. More attached. “My parents are soulmates and they ended up hating each other. He’s a jerk, he hurts her and me and I didn’t want that to happen to me and my soulmate. Soulmates, I guess. Then the first thing I saw was you guys talking, and I realized, there’s two of you,” He laughed humorlessly, shrugging nonchalantly, “You wouldn’t be missing out if I never made myself known, and what kind of asshole would I be if I intruded on your relationship anyways? It’s not like I can add anything worthwhile. I’m not… that great of a person. I never have been. I have too much baggage and I’m pretty boring and I only scare people away so if I were you I’d get out while I had the chance.” His cracking voice gave away how he actually felt, and he despised himself for it. In all honesty, there was nothing he wanted more than to be held and loved and wanted. He’d never had that before in his life, was it a crime to not want to be pushed aside forever?

To his utter confusion, neither of them pulled away. He’d just vented to two strangers, and they were still as attentive as before. 

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” Remus hummed in a decent impression of John Mulaney, letting his thumb glide over Janus’. 

“So if I’m correct,” Logan stated in a tone that implied he usually was correct, “You didn’t contact us because you didn’t want to burden us, or get yourself hurt.”

“I mean… yeah.”

“I’m going to kill your dad,” Remus chirped all too brightly, “For hurting you. And for ever making you think that we would hurt you.” 

“Remus!”

“It’s true!”

Logan sighed heavily, “Remus is a little extreme, sometimes, but he is harmless. Look, I can assure you that your presumptions are entirely false. We would never harm you, and anything you’ve gone through in your past, what you call baggage, is not a deterrent to us in the slightest.”

“I have bipolar disorder, and a whole wacky past that we’ll get into another time,” Remus added, waving away Logan’s ‘shut up’ face, “And in the fifteen years I’ve known this nerd, he’s always stood by me.”

Janus knew it was supposed to feel better, but learning that the two have known each other since long before they knew they were soulmates suddenly made Janus feel that much more like he was intruding. Remus must have noticed his expression, because he quickly kept going.   

“All I mean is that we have our fair share of baggage, my multicolored friend-”

“Remus!”

“Both of us do. So you won’t be hurting us in any way, shape, or form. And we won’t hurt you either.”

Janus’ own doubts were still raging inside him, but each word they said was adding splashes of water, slowly dousing the flames, much to his dismay. Even Remus’ attempts at humor were delighting him in ways he wasn’t used to. 

“For some reason, the universe wants us together somehow. We’re meant to be in each other’s lives. Aw gross, that sounds like something Roman would-”

“Trusting us will be a slow process, and we understand that,” Logan interrupted smoothly, “You don’t need to believe our words, because we’ll prove it to you. Alright?” 

It took a second until Janus nodded, but he did. He could hardly understand it himself.

“Can you start by telling us your name?”

“Janus.” It was a near whisper, a confession of the name he’d disliked since he was old enough to get bullied by his peers.

“The two faced Roman god of decisions, doorways, and new beginnings,” Logan spouted as if on instinct.

“Janus,” Remus repeated slowly, before a huge grin stretched across his face, “I love it.”

[pindaleng]

Merry Pitchmas @anotherbechloeshipper !!

Had so much fun writing this one, hope you enjoy it :)

Title: In From the Snow

Pairing: Bechloe

Chapters: 1/1

Wordcount: 2943

Summary: Beca didn’t anticipate making many friends her freshman year, much less become best friends with one Chloe Beale. When a snow storm ruins both their plans to travel home, they get to spend some quality time together. Beca thinks this might be her best chance to tell the other girl how she feels.

Read on AO3 or below.

Beca stared gloomily at the large flakes falling outside her dorm window.

There was no way her old Camry would be able drive more than ten miles an hour in these conditions. The forecast said “heavy snow”, but she didn’t realize it’d be this bad.

She totally would have left a few days earlier if she didn’t have a final scheduled for the absolute last day of the semester. It’s not like she was super excited about heading back home either, but she knew her dad and step mom would give her shit for it.

She sighed. Might as well text them now to rip off that band-aid.

Shortly after she sent the message, she heard a knock on her opened door.

“Hey, you’re still here!”

In the doorway stood Chloe Beale, undoubtedly the coolest person on their dorm floor. Beca (to her surprise) got along with most of the people on her floor, but something about Chloe specifically drew her in.

Admittedly, she found the other girl annoying at first, as she seemed like the high school girls that were fake nice just to talk about you behind your back. She soon learned, though, that Chloe was the real deal.

But not of course before giving her a hard time for a couple of months. Frustratingly, but thankfully, Chloe was incredibly persistent. Beca hadn’t really expected to make so many friends, intending to keep her head down and make her way through, but everyone grew on her. Especially Chloe.

“Yeah, unfortunately still here.” Beca replied. “Wanted to drive out today but doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen.”

Chloe invited herself in and hopped onto Beca’s bed. She hummed in understanding. “I just got back from the store and driving was for sure a struggle. Definitely would not recommend.”

“Great. You’re staying here too, then?”

“Yep! Which means you get to spend time with little ol’ me.” She propped her head on her hands. “Any plans for the day?”

There wasn’t really a Plan B since she didn’t expect her driving-back-home Plan A to not work out. “Not really, probably just gonna work on some mixes.”

“Can I join?”

“Yes, please make it a little less sad that I’m stuck here on Christmas Eve.”

“Sweet, I’ll be back.” Chloe slid off the bed and make her way out the room. “Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Beca just rolled her eyes and started setting up her laptop.

Chloe came back moments later with her sketchbook and colored pencils, and settled on Beca’s roommate’s bed. Both of them were friends with Stacie, so they knew she wouldn’t mind her bed being used.

They passed time peacefully like this for a couple of hours, each doing their separate thing.

Beca was so engrossed in her music that she doesn’t notice Chloe call out her name until the other girl waved at her to get her attention.

She slipped off her headphones. “What’s up?”

“I was thinking about getting some food soon. You in?”

The hunger hit her stomach now that food was mentioned. “Yeah, I could eat. Where at?” Though the dorms stayed open, dining halls were closed. There were plenty of places nearby though, and many of whom delivered. They went back and forth suggesting restaurants until Chloe looked like she had an epiphany. “We should go to that new ramen place!”

Beca’s immediate reaction was to pout, as they didn’t deliver. Chloe laughed.

“Oh come on, it’s a five minute walk, max. You big baby.” Chloe playfully poked her cheek. “Plus it’s super pretty outside.”

“And it’s super warm inside.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’m going with or without you.”

The ultimatum was effective. Beca grumbled but put her coat on anyways. The reluctance was really just all show, as she would probably walk naked into a freezing lake for the other girl.

Snow was steadily falling outside, blanketing all the surfaces in a thick layer of white. Campus was quiet, as most of the students had already left for the holidays. It was both eerie and calming. The absence of drunk frat guys yelling, though, was definitely a plus.

“Okay I admit, it is pretty outside.” But you’re prettier. The automatic thought was so cheesy she almost threw up a bit in her mouth. Since when did she think such gross things? She could practically see Stacie smirking annoyingly at her.

Chloe grinned in victory, and Beca’s heart swooped.

Her brain definitely wasn’t lying though: Chloe was undoubtedly beautiful. The snowflakes in Chloe’s hair contrasted perfectly with the red color, making her look like some sort of magazine model. It felt kind of unfair that she could exist like that and not know what she was doing to poor Beca’s soul.

—

When the waitress asked if they needed one or two checks, Chloe replied “just one” before Beca could get a word in.

As the waitress walked away, Beca sent a questioning look to the redhead.

Chloe shrugged, “It’s easier for them to just run a single card.” Beca offered to pay her back, but she insisted it to be a holiday present. If Beca didn’t know better, she would have swore it was a date.

They were on their way back to the dorms when Beca felt something hit the back of her head.

She whipped around. “Hey!”

Chloe was already packing another snowball, clearly out for blood. She quickly launched that one too, which Beca barely managed to sidestep. She bent down to create her own snow projectile.

Chloe began to run away to get out of range, so Beca went to chase her. Unfortunately, Beca slipped on the snow and fell. Chloe was immediately at her side. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

The snow cushioned her fall pretty well, but Beca didn’t want to give that away just yet. She faked a grimace. “I think I broke my leg.”

“Oh shit.” Chloe furrowed her eyebrows in worry. “I’m so sorry I-“

Beca felt too bad that she immediately stopped her. “I’m joking, I’m actually fine.”

It took a moment to register, and then Chloe slapped her on the arm. “You scared me!”

Beca rubbed the spot where she was hit. “Ok now I actually have to go to the hospital.”

Chloe just slapped her arm again, before offering a hand to pull her up. Beca took it but didn’t get up. Chloe looked confused as Beca smirked, and then pulled the other girl down into the snow with her. She fell on her face in the fresh snow with a satisfying poof.

“Oh my god, you asshole.” Chloe laughed after pulling her face up, and shoved at the other girl, who was still laying in the snow.

“Chlo you have a beard.” Beca was practically wheezing at the sight of Chloe having snow stuck all over her face. “Still hot though.”

Chloe modeled it, striking poses and getting up to walk down an imaginary runway, while Beca yelled after her, hyping her up.

They messed around in the snow for a while longer, then took the long way back. Beca considered complaining about the cold and wet seeping in, but Chloe just looked so happy. Plus, it really was nice outside. Walking with Chloe in the peace of campus was a moment Beca wanted to keep tucked in her pocket forever.

—

After getting back, they went to take showers (separately) to warm themselves up, deciding to reconvene later in Chloe’s room. Beca sat on her bed with her hair in a towel, scrolling through her phone. She opened a message from Stacie, who was definitely one of her best friends in college so far. She flew out a couple of days ago and told Beca not to “get too freaky” while she was gone. Beca practically shoved her out the door.

Stacie [6:31 pm]: You make it home?

Beca [7:13 pm]: No, stuck here. Stupid snow.

A reply immediately came in.

Stacie [7:13 pm]: Ugh that sucks, are you by yourself then?

Beca hesitated on what exactly to say, knowing Stacie would immediately make fun of her for the truth.

Beca [7:15 pm]: Not exactly…..Chloe is also still here

Stacie [7:16 pm]: !!!!!!!!!!

Stacie [7:16 pm]: BECA

Stacie [7:16 pm]: THIS IS YOUR CHANCE

Beca [7:17 pm]: Dude she doesn’t like me

Stacie [7:18 pm]: Do NOT bother coming back to campus if you don’t shoot your shot right now

Stacie [7:19 pm]: Joking but also not

Stacie [7:19 pm]: She hangs out w you all the time. She actually listens to your music recs. Plz do something.

Stacie [7:20 pm]: Ok talk later family is calling for dinner, good luck!!!!!

Beca [7:21 pm]: ??? I’m going to ignore that you basically implied not listening to any of the music I’ve suggested

She fell back onto her bed. She wanted to make a move, and she did feel like there could be something between them. However, each time Chloe was nice to someone else, she got psyched out believing that Chloe was always just being platonically nice to her. No flirting involved.

With each passing day, though, it became harder to deny she wanted her. And how badly she did. She caught herself staring a bit too long, and hung endlessly on the small touches Chloe would always do. A brush of the finger here, and a hair tucked behind an ear there. Beca thought some days she might explode.

She texted Chloe to ask if she was ready yet.

Chloe [7:25 pm]: Sorry got distracted!! Hopping in the shower now.

With the extra time, Beca decided to finish the mix she was working on earlier that day. There was something off about it that she couldn’t quite figure out, but coming back to it now, she figured out what it was missing. She listened to it a few times to make sure she was really happy with it before mastering it.

A text came in from Chloe, letting her know she could come over whenever.

Beca quickly added the song to a USB which already contained many music files, then placed the drive into a small pink, cardboard box she got from Stacie. The box originally held a necklace, which made it the perfect size for her gift.

She stashed it in her sweater pocket then made her way to Chloe’s room in the other wing of the floor.

It was still relatively early in the night, so Chloe suggested a movie. Beca wasn’t one for movies usually, but it wasn’t like she had any better ideas.

They cuddled together on the small dorm bed in Chloe’s den of pillows, with the laptop in front of them. The movie was actually pretty good, despite all the bad decisions the main character kept making, and the fact that Beca missed half the plot due to glancing at Chloe instead, and being nervous about how close they were.

“Thoughts?” Chloe turned down the volume as the credits began to roll.

“I think she should have gone with the second guy.”

“Really? I thought he was kind of iffy.”

They proceeded have a lively discussion about the movie, with Beca continuing to argue mostly to mess with Chloe, who seemed quite adamant about the main character’s end choice of romantic partner. It ended with Chloe tickling her until Beca finally admitted her defeat.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Beca looked at Chloe warily, still catching her breath from the tickling attack. “Um, why?”

“Just do it.”

She sighed but did as she was told.

“No peeking!”

Her index finger drew a cross above her heart, signaling her promise to not look.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

In front of her was a piece of paper carefully rolled into a tube and bound with a red bow. Beca picked it up, gingerly untying the ribbon, unraveling her gift. Her jaw dropped.

“Chloe…”

In her hands was a pencil sketch of her with headphones on, smiling and almost on the verge of laughing. Honestly, she never thought about what she looked like while she was happy. The image of herself in her mind was always some version of broody. Is this how Chloe saw her? Beca wasn’t one to usually cry, but she might have teared up a bit.

“This is…incredible.”

Chloe looked kind of nervous. The same way that Beca was protective of showing others her music, Chloe was hesitant to show much of her art. “You like it?”

“Dude I love it. Seriously.” That reassurance seemed to put Chloe at ease. “Okay, your turn to close your eyes.”

Chloe did it without hesitation, and also held out her hands. Beca shook her head a bit in amusement and placed the small box into her palm.

“Okay, open.”

She opened her eyes and lifted the lid of the box to find a black USB drive, with a piece of tape on the side simply labeled “For Chloe”.

Her smile widened as she realized what her present was. “Do I get to finally listen to your music?”

“Maybe.”

“It means a lot, Beca. Thank you.”

“Um yeah, no problem. Don’t tell me if you end up thinking it’s bad.” She joked.

“Oh please, you’re going to have to block me with how many good things I’ll say.”

“Don’t tempt me, I might delete your contact right now.”

Chloe laughed. “Oh please, like you could last a day without me. Also, I actually have another present for you.” She scotched a bit closer to Beca.

“Oh,” Beca furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, I don’t have anything el-“

She was swiftly cut off as Chloe kissed her, soft and sweet. So polite and unassuming it almost felt platonic.

But god did it give Beca butterflies.

Chloe pulled away so quickly that Beca wasn’t sure it even happened. Like maybe she just daydreamed too hard and manifested a hallucination.

She must have had a deer in the headlights look because Chloe suddenly got super shy. “Was that okay?” She whispered, face still close.

Beca finally came to her senses. “Yeah, totally. More than okay. Amazing really.” She must look like a blushing mess.

The corner of Chloe’s mouth quirked up in amusement and relief. “Yeah?”

“Still could be better, though.” Good work Beca, make a joke to regain some semblance of having her shit together.

“Oh?” She watched Chloe lick her lips, a mesmerizing motion. The shyness was all but gone, replaced by something much more confident, and destined to ruin Beca’s life. And she knew she’d welcome it with open arms.

—

Beca woke up in the morning to the light touch of fingers trailing along her jaw. She smiled, remembering where she was, and more importantly, who was besides her. She probably had the best night of sleep in her life. “Can’t keep your hands off of me, Beale?” She asked, keeping her eyes closed.

“Are you going to try and stop me?” Chloe whispered. Her raspy morning voice was really so damn attractive.

She opened one eye, smiling. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” Chloe leaned in for a long kiss, the hand on her face pulling Beca closer. Her breath hitched. She didn’t think she could ever get used to this. Kissing Chloe Beale. Touching her.

She pulled away all too soon, just as Beca began to want her even more. Beca was quickly learning how much of a tease Chloe was.

“i’m going to get ready, and then maybe we can go get breakfast somewhere?”

“Or…we can stay in bed all day.”

Chloe giggled, and Beca almost professed her love. “Becs, both of us gotta head home.”

“Do we though?”

Chloe just smiled as she slipped out of bed and grabbed her toothbrush and face towel. Before she was completely out the door, she gave her butt a little shake, as if she could tell Beca was staring at her clad in a large t-shirt and sleep shorts. Beca was sure Chloe was smirking as she did it.

As soon as she was out of sight, Beca grabbed her phone from the desk. A text from her dad and a couple from Stacie. She opened the messages from the latter.

Stacie [11:13 pm]: How’d it go?

Stacie [11:30 pm]: I’m assuming the silence is a good thing and ur just too busy making out with Chloe to reply ;)

Beca typed out a quick message.

Beca [9:30 am]: So…..

Stacie [9:30 am]: THIS BETTER BE GOOD NEWS

Beca [9:31 am]: How do you keep replying so quickly??

Stacie [9:31 am]: How about you stop avoiding

Beca thought of the million different things she could say, but opted for simplicity.

Beca [9:32 am]: :)

Stacie [9:33 am]: Is that good

Stacie [9:33 am]: Beca is that good

Stacie [9:34 am]: ?????

She set her phone down, feeling giddy. It might have been a bit cruel to leave Stacie hanging, but she’d get over it. She’d get the full story eventually, but right now, Beca wanted to keep as much of this thing with Chloe to herself as possible. Definitely not like a shameful secret, though.

Something about telling someone about it, however vaguely, made last night and this morning seem actually real.  She had this feeling deep in her chest that this was the start of something incredible, which made her both excited and a bit scared. Ok a lot scared. Terrified even.

It sucked that they’d have be apart right as they were starting something. Winter break couldn’t be over soon enough.

[magpiemorality]

Ok so this is a slightly disjointed idea but, 24 hour diner with Virgil or Dee as waiter/person who works there and one of the boys is a regular customer, but who shows up at the oddest of hours. they talk one day and our customer boy tells him about slightly unbelievable happenings, and Virge/Dee isn't sure if they are making fun of him, but this continues. They become each others constant, cause life's hectic. Any ship :] - xaime

This isn’t entirely what you requested because my mind half read it and went off on a wild tangent, but I hope you enjoy! 

Combined with:

This isn't a prompt as much as it's a challenge; how many different names can you give Deceit in one short story without it being incoherent? - @loveceit

"It was a dark and stormy knight" listen, it was a pun and a combo of purple prose+virgil nickname so i figured it could become a story therefore you get it *goes back into the night* - Anonymous

AO3

***

The diner was always an interesting place to work. From the peppy college students to the millennials seeking a quirky date; from the families with rowdy kids to the construction workers that were on a project nearby; it was a great place to be a people watcher.

Just a shame Virgil didn't much like people. He was only there to finance his freelance work and pay for his rent, which made him the perfect candidate for the night shifts.

When he'd accepted the graveyard hours he'd assumed he could just get some work done, hang out in silence until the morning guy, some peppy high-school grad waiting to get into the community college a few blocks away, showed up to take over.

No one told Virgil that the night shift often got the most... interesting customers.

Case in point; D- uh, Dee something. It might have been Damien? Virgil was sure he'd introduced himself as Damien once, but he couldn't quite remember and the guy was a regular by now so he couldn't ask, either. Damien- or maybe Darren?- was a fascinating individual that had managed to pique even Virgil's lack of interest, coming in as he did every time Virgil was on shift without fail. It wasn't always the same time, sometimes Darren, or Dalziel, arrived as the night started around eight or nine (if the sun had gone down), and sometimes he arrived as late as four or five am, only a few hours before Virgil got to go home.

No matter what though, he always stayed until Virgil's shift ended, disappearing in the few minutes when Virgil headed in the back to change out of his apron and grab his stuff. What a mystery. Virgil might not have liked people but he adored a good mystery.

They talked a little every so often, just exchanging pleasantries when Virgil brought D- Derek?- his coffee or a slice of pie (homemade by the chefs but not remotely fresh; this wasn't actually the 50s and demand was too high for authenticity like that). The man was often working diligently away on a clunky laptop with no discernible brand, tap tap tapping providing a nicely soothing rhythmic background to Virgil's own work over at the counter. It was always the same volume, even when there was dead silence, or rain outside, not that Virgil consciously noticed that.

Once he almost caught a glimpse of what D...rake? No definitely not a Drake, eesh. Maybe Declan? Still not right... What Dee was going. It looked like coding, but not coding that Virgil really recognised. More like if the Matrix had been an actual thing of sorts, flickering symbols moving up and down and somehow forwards and backwards, deep into the screen. It made his head hurt a little and Dee- no wait, it was... it was... nope, gone again. Maybe Devon? Ew no. 100% not right.

Anyhow, since then Virgil hadn't ever tried to look again, feeling faintly queasy at the thought of seeing that screen again, and the mysterious Dee just kept tapping reliably away.

The mystery deepened when Virgil had to take a day shift one week. It was busy, a little annoying because he had work to do he would have to stay up late to do instead, and his sleeping pattern was immediately off-kilter after the change of rhythm, but there was something else. His regular D- David? No, too plain. He was more of a Despereaux, or a December, something like that... His regular wasn't there, and the absence was more noticeable than Virgil could have predicted. Even worse, there was some creepy man with crazy intense eyes who came in part way through Virgil's shift and would not. stop. staring. When he got his things and headed to go home the man just smiled at him brightly and he hurried to grab the bus, giving in to the urge to keep looking over his shoulder as he made his way back to his apartment.

He told Drew, Dara, Dolion, whatever his goddamn name was, next time he was on the night shift. It was like slipping into bed at the end of the day; how right it felt to be back under cover of darkness. Dylan, D-ax? That was a name right? Not his mystery regular's though... Dee seemed curious about where Virgil had been, when he served the guy his drink that night, and insisted he sit down for a chat while the diner was otherwise empty. Virgil, despite the work he needed to get done, agreed, and they spent a while having a comfortable and easy conversation that had them both laughing in turn.

That night Virgil left work with a smile on his face for the first time in a very long time.

It only took another few shifts before Desmond or Dexter or Diaz admitted he'd been rather worried when Virgil had changed shifts. He was equally worried about the weird guy that had shown up on that shift. "There are some bad people out there," he'd murmured, looking out the window into the dark streets with a faraway expression as Virgil hung on his every word. "And there are some even worse things than them that prowl the streets." He'd shot Virgil a soft smile, a little apologetic, and had turned the subject neatly onto Virgil's word, leaving the words lingering in the air, almost solid enough to touch as they followed Virgil around for the rest of the week.

That conversation turned into a part of the routine, sitting together over cups of hot, strong coffee, grinning and laughing and sharing thoughts on the world. Rarely did their own lives get much discussion, the past just seemed... unimportant somehow, when compared to the now and the what could be. Draco or Dorian or Dominic or whatever his name was, was quickly becoming Virgil's best friend, and from the genuine delight on Douglas or Diego or Daniel's face he felt the same way.

And one night his friend was late.

It was near closing and Dee still hadn't shown up. Despite the massive coincidence Virgil had never bothered to wonder why he seemed to know the right nights to visit the diner, subconsciously writing it off as nothing strange, but now he forced his worries down with the logical answer that Dee simply had other things to do.

It wasn't weird that he had never once failed to show up for the past... had it been more than a year now? Close to two, even? It... that wasn't weird...

It was weird as hell. But it wasn't anything to worry about; no that pleasure belonged to his absence. Even when Virgil went and changed and got his bag, wondering if tonight of all nights Dean or Dustin or Donovan would have appeared in that moment instead of his usual disappearance, but it wasn't to be.

The journey home felt wrong and Virgil was restless when he forced himself to go to bed, full of turbulent thoughts and concerns. "There are some bad people out there," his thoughts whispered in the early dawn light. "And there are some even worse things than them that prowl the streets."

And yet, somehow, he was there again the next shift. He looked tired, Dalton or Deacon or Demetrius. His eyes were dark and his hair ruffled, and his laptop was nowhere to be seen. He smiled though, when Virgil spotted him, already hunched down in the booth in the corner, the shadow of bruises on his face.

Virgil waited for the other lonely customer to finish up and head off before turning the never-used sign to CLOSED and bringing the entire pot of coffee over for them both. He wrapped his friend in a hug when he stood from the booth as Virgil approached, only making sure to put the pot down first.

When they fell back into the red leather bench seats, eyes on the table in front of them and silence thick, Virgil knew something was changed forever.

He looked up as Dee cleared his throat, a rueful smile on his face. "I owe you an explanation, Virgil," he said, voice hoarse and gravelly.

"Do you?" Virgil asked, looking at him curiously. Somehow it felt like he was actually seeing Dee now, like he was clear where he'd been slightly blurred before. And Dee just smiled again.

"Let me tell you a story. About a man living in a world he wasn't meant to, and someone who saved him."

Virgil's eyebrows furrowed together and he leaned forwards, elbows on the table so he could rest his chin in his hands.

"It was a dark and stormy knight," the man called Dante began. "That saved him..."

-

Masterlist | Buymeacoffee

[let-me-love-you-loki]

An Ending Within--Ch. 15

Chapter 15

           I sat down slowly on the sofa in my therapist’s office. It had been a while since I’d seen her, and it felt weird to be there again. She looked me over with her wide, knowing green eyes as she took the seat a few feet away.

           “How have you been?” she asked, opening a notepad on her lap and tapping her pen against the side of her knee. “It’s been a while.”

           “Yeah, things have been busy.” I sank back against the cushions, stretching my leg out in front of me.

           Her attention followed my movement. “You’re wearing your brace again.”

           I sighed. “My leg has been giving me some trouble. Not a lot, but Dr. Thurman wants me to brace it for a while.”

           She nodded. “Are you wrestling?”

           “Not as much as I’d like. But there’s not a lot for me to do right now.” I sighed. “It’s frustrating, but I’m staying busy. I’m teaching more classes at the school. I have time with my daughter.”

           I was shutting down. I knew the feeling. She could see it too.

***

           “Have you seen that pumpkin-headed dipshit?” Jericho asked as he passed by me backstage.

           “Who?” I looked up from the book in my lap. I’d gotten to the venue earlier than usual and was waiting for hair and makeup.

           “Omega,” he replied, plopping down on the edge of the table in front of me.

           I shrugged. “He’d probably in a meeting with Tony or the Bucks.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “If you find him, tell him I’m bored as hell. I want to get in the ring as more than just Inner Circle eye candy.”

           “Black, you’re definitely not just eye candy. But you’re right. Time for you to get those wins under your belt.” Jericho nodded. “Santana and Ortiz are going after the tag titles. I want my belt back. And it’s only right that you get the women’s belt. Inner Circle are going to run the championship scene.”

           Blink. The heavy thumping of my heart against my ribs. A knot in my throat that made it hard to breathe. Flashes of memory raced through my mind. The Hounds in the center of the ring, holding every title the brand had to offer.

           “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Anybody home?”

           My pulse thundered in my ears, an echo of my sudden desperate trip through time. Ice slid down my spine as I forced myself to consciousness.

           “Do I need to get Mox?” Jericho asked worriedly. His normally ruddy face had gone pale. His eyes were tight with concern.

           I shook my head slowly, trying to catch my breath, to force the world upright on its axis. “No,” I said at last. “I’m okay. You just reminded me of something.”

           His eyes softened. A faint smile tipped the corner of his mouth upward. “I know we’re not the same, but we can still be your family. You’re not betraying them by becoming one of us.”

           Laughter spilled past my lips. “What if I don’t want to be Inner Circle for good? What if I want to go Elite? Or Nightmare Family? Or Dark Order? Or maybe I want to just run my own game.”

           Jericho laughed, but his sounded worn at the edges. “I’ve known you for a long time, Black. And I know that you do exactly what you want to do for exactly as long as you want to. Until you decide to bail, you’re Inner Circle. And that’s family.”

           “Oye, mamí!” Jericho and I both turned at the sound. Santana and Ortiz sauntered their way down the hall toward us. Ortiz grinned. “Long time no see, princesa.”

           Santana leaned his forearms on my shoulders and rested his chin on the top of my head. “How’s the leg, reina?”

           I glanced down at the black and red brace. “It’s good. Brace is basically just precaution these days. Most of the time anyway.”

           “You sound pissed off,” Ortiz observed as he sat on the floor nearby. “Run into the EVPs already today?”

           “She wants to hit someone,” Jericho replied for me. “I’m on my way to track down that pumpkin-headed dipshit Omega to get her a good booking.”

           “Chris, I was joking.”

           He grinned and pushed off from the table. “But I wasn’t. Better warm up.”

           I watched him slip down the hallway shouting for Kenny. Rolling my eyes, I turned my attention back to Santana and Ortiz. The first swept around me and hopped up onto the table vacated by Jericho.

           “We can pick a fight with Dark Order. They’ve snatched Ana Jay,” Ortiz said with glee. “The two of us—” he gestured between himself and Santana—“can take Silver and Reynolds.”

           “Or Uno and Stu,” Santana added. His tag partner nodded, pointing back at him as if it was a genius idea.

           I couldn’t help but smile indulgently. It reminded me of the moments when I sat back and watched Jon and Seth banter and bicker backstage. A stab of homesickness swept through me. The strangeness was that it wasn’t for a place, but for a moment in time. I missed the feeling that I’d had when the Hounds were together… that moment on the dock behind my parents’ house where I first felt like I was one of the pack.

           Jericho’s words flitted through my mind. Maybe they weren’t the same as Roman, Jon, and Seth, but I could find a new home in AEW. I could make myself another family—not to replace the Hounds. Nothing could ever do that.

           “Those are the only ones we can pick a fight with?” I asked, tossing my book on the table beside Santana. “The women’s division here is… severely lacking.”

           Ortiz and Santana looked sideways at me. “Ah ah, mamí, I know that look,” Ortiz cautioned, getting to his feet.

           I pushed myself to my feet, taking a minute to get my balance. Then I turned on my heel and stalked down the hallway toward the EVP offices. I ignored the faint tingle in the back of my knee as I practically ran.

           I knocked hard on the door of the office. My heart clawed up into my throat. Shuffling echoed from the other side.

           The door swung open and Nick Jackson grinned at me, his blue eyes bright. “Hey, Black. What can I do for you?”

           “I need to talk to Omega. I’m bored as hell, and we’ve got to do something about this women’s division of yours.” The words spilled out before I could stop them. Probably should have thought carefully about what I was going to say before I practically insulted one of the guys who signed my checks.

           Nick’s eyes went wide, but the corner of his mouth twitched up. He stepped to the side and gestured me to come in. My stomach turned upside down. I thought I was going to puke.

           Kenny sat in a folding chair with a laptop open on the low table in front of him. He looked up as Nick shut the door behind me. I watched Kenny’s brow furrow, his blue-green eyes searching my face.

           “Jericho’s already been here,” he said without preamble. “The show is full tonight.”

           I crossed my arms and shifted my weight to my good leg. The brace felt stifling, as if it were an anchor that was dragging me backward. My heart was desperate to get through my ribs and out of my chest. “Tonight’s show is full, Next week’s show will be full. Dark is full. You brought me here to wrestle. To compete. But I’ve spent the last year being basically a valet for Inner Circle. I’ve had three matches, Omega. THREE! That’s bullshit. And you know it.”

           Kenny’s eyes went wide as he sat back in his chair. “You have one women’s match on Dynamite and one on Dark, if we’re lucky. And if the match lasts five minutes, that’s considered a long one. If I wanted to sit on the sidelines, I’d have stayed with Vince. At least there I could get a match or a promo or something.”

           Someone snickered behind me. I didn’t turn to see who it was. I kept my gaze locked on Omega, hoping that he’d know how frustrated I was with the way I’d been treated in AEW. There had been so many promises about how everything would be better than what I’d known. I’d left everything behind for the vision of a new wrestling promotion that was going to bring back the fun, the storytelling, the focus on providing fresh content. Jon had begged me to take the contract, gushing over how fantastic it was. But of course, he was a guy. And the men’s roster was bloated.

           “What do you want me to do, Black?” Kenny asked, his voice gruff. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You want me to shoehorn a match in the show tonight? You want some TV time, is that it?”

           Rage. Frustration. Desperation. A pure sort of anger that came from someone being purposefully obtuse.

           “No, Kenny. I don’t want ‘some TV time.’ I want what you promised me. I want you to get your shit together and actually pay attention to your women’s division.” I drew a deep breath through my nose, desperate to calm the burning in my veins. “If you don’t, I want out of my contract. And I’m not bluffing.”

           I turned on my heel and walked back out of the room. Nick caught my eye as I passed. He winked, giving me a thumbs up. I gave him a faint smile in return before I pulled the door shut behind me.

***

           Sefina grinned as Kevin and Prince played in the floor around her. Her eyes had darkened to a chocolate brown that matched Seth’s, but her hair was a lighter brown that looked like melted caramel. I smiled at her, tucking whisps of hair behind her ear as the two of us sat together in front of the sofa. Kevin slipped and slid across the hardwood and plopped across my daughter’s legs. She carefully ran her fingers through his fur.

           After a moment, she tipped her head back and looked at me. Her smile was slightly sad. “Want Dada,” she mumbled.

           I looked at the clock, realizing that Seth would be in the middle of a live show just then. It would be two days before he came home. “Me, too, baby girl. Me, too.”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @lakamaa12 @sammyfireheartashryver @cburdine​ @easyobsession​ @xbutterflius-effectusx​ @0paint-thestars0 @Echrai @themumbler​ @bigdunneenergy​ @queenofthearchitect​ @vebner37​ @reigns-rollins-ambrose​ @mother-forker​ @gwyneirastorm​ @not-that-kinda-gurl08​ @maelleoute​

[honeyyvee]

Where it hurts

Rating; Explicit (+18)

Genre; hurt&comfort, fluff, smut.

Pairing; Taehyung x Reader ft. Hoseok.

Words; 6.2 k

Summary; Roommates AU. You come home late night to your shared apartment with a broken heart. The hurt, and touch-starvation, spark in you a terrible idea. 

“Tell me where it hurts, so I can kiss it better”.

Content Warnings; explicit descriptions of sex, (vaginal) fingering, grinding, consumption of alcohol, oral sex (fem receiving), references to depression&self-depreciation if u squint. angsty porn with (kinda) plot and lots of feelings. 

Notes; this was supposed to be a quick, sad, pwp but turned out to be surprisingly fluffy porn with plot, with an actual happy ending for once. 

It's 2 a.m. and your trembling hands fumble with clicking the key into place. You are drunk, but painfully aware, nearly full sober. Consequence of the cold shower fallen upon you when walking back home from a nearby bar. A light drizzle became a downpour in a matter of seconds; and so you find yourself drenching wet at the doorstep of your shared apartment.

Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your skin; your hair's a tangled mess. The keys slip from your fingers and fall onto the welcome mat with a thud; tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You contemplate going back to the bar, lest you crumble into ugly, desperate sobbing right now. A thunder strikes, somewhere close enough for you to flinch at the sharp, rambunctious sound.

It's pretty late and the bar has closed, but you figure you can always look for another. You stand in the pouring rain, the heavy drops tapping your skin like small pebbles, lost in thought considering your options. You don't know how much time has passed when the door opens with a creak. It registers in your foggy brain a couple of seconds later, when the person on the other side of the door gasps.

"Y/N!"

You meet your roommate's eyes with as much stoicism as you can muster.

"Come, hurry inside" Taehyung ushers you, and your body actually responds to do as he says.

You're hit with a wave of warmth radiating from the heater placed in the small living room. Taehyung sprints back for the keys, repeating to you assurances that he'll be back. You watch him lock the door and rush to the bathroom to get some towels.

Your head's dizzy, and everything's slowed down. It feels like ages before Taehyung's with you again, wrapping you in towels like a poorly made burrito. His eyes frantically shoot from one side of your body to the other, looking for any sign of damage. Your roommate helps you get out of your shoes as he keeps asking the same things over and over again. What happened? Are you alright? Why didn't you call for me to pick you up?

Your throat is dry, and your lips have difficulty responding to your orders, but still you manage to appease him. Somewhat.

"I'm alright."

Taehyung's frown deepens. The brunette takes a step forward, crouching at your eye level. His large hands wrap the towel around your body tighter.

"I've been waiting for you all night, why have you been ignoring my calls?" There's a pout, more than a reprimanding tone to his deep voice. Taehyung's eyes stare into yours, a worried expression on his handsome features. Your gaze diverts from its intensity.

"I wasn't ignoring you, I just needed some time alone."

Taehyung's nose crinkles.

"What is this? You reek of alcohol..."

You shrink under his scrutinous gaze.

"I just went for a couple drinks with a friend and lost track of time. That's all." It's a half truth, but you think it convincing.

Taehyung doesn't buy it.

"Still… for you to drink… "

It was true you disliked it, as much as it was false. It was good to get shit out of your mind, and God knew you needed just that after tonight. But Taehyung knew that when you drank, something was wrong; lying was of no use at this point. You drew in a deep, shaky breath.

"I saw him, Tae, at the bar. Hoseok... he was with someone."

The name hasn't left your lips in a long time, it feels foreign in your ears even if its commonly present in your mind. Hoseok, your best friend... Ex-best friend, who you are still madly in love with. Even if he has stopped talking to you, and pretends like you don't exist; never existed. Even if the memory of him is that of the sting, of a relationship turned sour.

For a moment, the meaning of your words seems lost in Taehyung as his eyes lazily blink the remaining sleep away.

"Oh… Hoseok?" He mumbles, more to himself than to you. Taehyung's frown deepens. He knows the story, from what you've told him.

Taehyung's been your roommate for almost 3 years. You don't spend much time together tough. Due to differences in schedule, you never see him but on weekends, when he's not out with his friends. He's a good friend, but he has never seen you cry over Hoseok. You are very private about your feelings. If you ever felt like crying, you locked yourself in your room, or cried at late hours of the night. Tonight however, it might be the first time you open up to someone that's not Hoseok. There's a knot in your throat weighing like a rock, but you manage to rasp out your confirmation to the man without bursting into tears.

You had gone to that bar after receiving a text from a girl friend. It had been an uneventful Saturday evening until then, cramped in your small bedroom watching Netflix on your laptop and eating chips from the bag. You were on your second bag of chips when the notification popped up in your screen, an image attachment from your college friend. It was an image of Hoseok, spotted at a nearby bar with a girl clinging onto his arm, both of them laughing in close proximity. It stung your heart like a javelin speared through it. Your breakup was still fresh in your heart, even if it had been a little more than a year already.

In an instant of impulsiveness, you jumped out of bed, showered, sprayed perfume, and put some heels on. All the way to the bar you couldn't help but think… If only you hadn't confessed one year ago, you wouldn't have ruined over a precious friendship of years. You wouldn't find yourself in this situation. Walking three blocks to a bar in high heels to spy on your best friend and his new date.

Was it really your fault though? The timing just wasn't right. At that time... Hoseok was going through family problems, couldn't see you as much; shut you out so you wouldn't worry, which in turn made you worry the double. And you worried SO much it just complicated things. August, after summer break, you ended it. Hoseok shutting you out when you wanted to help, hurt you to no end. You thought it better to stay as friends, you thought you could still be friends.

But even if Hoseok's words, his promise, told you so, his actions spoke differently. Day by day, the fracture between you two grew larger, until one day you were standing before a bottomless abyss. There was no turning back from that abyss… Because so much time had passed you started to feel like strangers to each other. Because none of you would budge, or take the step to close the distance. Because when you did budge to take the first step, you were met with awkward interactions, and empty eyes. And you knew nothing would ever be the same. You were left with nothing but memories and a name attached to them. The emotional anguish, and heartbreak that comes with one-sided love. Hurt, that fills all the spaces empty of him.

The image that greeted you when you entered the bar burns your mind, Hoseok and the girl kissing in a corner. Your eyes tear with the memory of it, and how when your eyes met his, Hoseok showed no emotion.

Taehyung notices your wandering thoughts, coughs into his fist.

"But you knew... didn't you? I thought you knew he was seeing someone." His large hand reaches to place a strand of tangled hair behind your ear. A single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp.

"I know… Still. It hurts." You tug at the towel covering your body.

It's impossible to see Taehyung's expression with your chin tipped down and all the mess of tangled hair falling over your face. You can imagine the sympathy and tenderness in his eyes however, as his warm hands grasp yours, caressing soothing circles.

"Our eyes met," you croak out. "I looked him in the eye, and he ignored me anyways. It was like… like he was a stranger and not my best friend of forever." Your voice cracks, as you try to hold the tears at bay, to keep Taehyung from seeing such a pitiful show. But the heavy teardrops at the corner of your eyes well up and fall without a care.

Taehyung's warm fingertips are there to catch all of them. He guides you to the sofa, as you try to control your breathing. The tall man takes the seat next to you with a solemn expression.

"Maybe you are strangers..." Taehyung deadpans, with a sigh. "It's been almost a year and a half. A lot can happen in that time. Maybe he really isn't the person you remember him being anymore." Taehyung's features are schooled into kind, sympathetic honesty. But his words still stab at your heart the same.

Your clothes are disgustingly wet and glued to your skin. You feel small, open, vulnerable, in front of someone who doesn't even know you that well. It's frightening. You bury your face in your hands.

"I wish I could go back…" Your heart crumbles, voicing the words out loud. Care is thrown out of the window as your body shakes into unstoppable sobs. It's a horrible feeling; hopelessness. Like a gaping void that hurts, consuming all the love out of you from the inside.

For months now all you've known is dancing around the line of opposite extremes. From sleepless nights to sleeping the days away, from eating too much chocolate and ramen, to not eating anything at all. You're tired of the swinging and the constant back and forth of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Sometimes there's nothing and others everything. Right now there's nothing...

And then there's Taehyung. His arms envelope you in a hug, engulfing you in his warmth, in his scent, in everything that makes Taehyung, Taehyung . A big heart and unconditional support.

"It's okay." He assures you over and over, and over in his velvet-like voice. His hands tracing the column of your spine in soothing up and down motions.

You hang for dear life onto the fabric of his sweater. Sob in his chest until you're left with a headache. Taehyung pulls you onto his lap so he is holding you closer; you do not protest. It's a well-known fact, your roommate is a little more on the affectionate, touchy-feely side. Nevertheless there are respectful lines he has drawn for himself when it comes to you. He crosses the line to comfort you better, and the newfound closeness feels natural. Your legs rest on each side of his hips, his arms encircling your waist, your own embracing his broad back too. You bury your head in the crook of his shoulder, like a baby being rocked to sleep, and melt into the embrace.

The lines keeping you respectfully apart, blurry. You realize it as you inhale the scent of his woody perfume close to his neck. Your nose brushes the sensitive skin there, for a moment. Taehyung stiffens, but continues caressing your back in silence. You think you catch the moment his heart jumps in it's ribcage, against your own. Maybe it's yours.

It's difficult to tell when you are pressed so closely together, and your breathing has evened out to match his. Your skin feels feverish underneath the wet clothes and that's how you know you got a cold coming. Your decision making process must be impaired by the terrible headache pounding at the front of your head... Or so you tell yourself as you move in Taehyung's lap, bringing your hips a little closer to his. Intoxicated on his boyish aroma, you dive into his neck for more, this time tentatively brushing your lips against the sensitive spot of skin you discovered earlier. There's a grunt at the back of Taehyung's throat, his hands grasp at your back for a moment, before he brushes it aside with a laugh, saying something about your nose being cold.

Your insides catch fire at the sound. Burning with desire to hear it again. It feels good. Taehyung's warm like a furnace and smells delicious, his back is firm beneath your fingertips, and your body feels secure with his arms around you. Like a shield of love and warmth, protecting you from the outer world. Taehyung feels good. You could do with good… You craved "good" like an affection-starved person right now.

Next time, you make sure he knows what you're doing is not an accident, by brushing your lips in the dip of his clavicles, and all the way to the column of his throat. Taehyung's breath hitches, his hands drop from your back to rest lightly on your hips. And that's when you start spreading kisses near his jaw, that grow clearer in intent. First a peck, and then a nibble, that has Taehyung shuddering under you.

"What are you doing?" Taehyung rasps, a poorly concealed whine behind it.

Your hands slide from the expanse of his back, around the curve of his waist, and up the firm planes of his abdomen.

"Please…"

Taehyung's eyes go wide at the boldness of your actions. But the feverish headache pounding at the back of your eyes tells you to keep going. You have to ride the wave of confidence while it lasts, otherwise you'll crumble again. You close your eyes shut.

"Kiss me." You're so close you can feel Taehyung's breath mixing with yours. You half expect for your lips to meet, but instead are met with cold disappointment.

Taehyung stops you, gently putting some distance by holding you by the shoulders.

"What? Y/n, are you still drunk?"

You don't want to open your eyes to see the disgust in Taehyung's expression. You want to melt into the cracks of the sofa never to be seen again. You shake your head no. Your head's dizzy and your body's swaying a bit, most likely caught a cold, but you're not drunk.

"Just heartbroken," you croak. The tears pool at your eyes again.

It's the truth. You're just a terrible human being, putting on a pity show. Because Taehyung here is being a good friend, and you are taking advantage of it to feel a little better. It's a shameful, ugly, feeling, but it's sincere; it's still you. It makes you want to bury your face in your hands, because you can never look at Taehyung in the eyes again after tonight. Not after he's seen you as you really are. A weak, pitiful, shameless thing.

"It hurts, Tae… it hurts so much. I want it to go. It hurts so much. I just want it to go..." the confession spills out of your lips, as you break into ugly tears again. You can't help it, you really can't.

But Taehyung remains patient, stays by your side. You half expected him to flee at this point, but he doesn't. He stays. Taehyung shushes you, his large hands caress you back. You bury your face in the warmth of his neck one more time, soothing yourself with the faint aroma of his expensive perfume. You try to compose yourself again for what feels like minutes but in reality are a couple of seconds of tense silence. After a while Taehyung shifts, putting some distance between you two. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, but refuse to look up from your fumbling hands. He grabs you by the shoulders with a gentle, shy grasp.

"Where?" His voice comes out in a rasp. The gravelly tone of it makes your insides tingle.

Your gaze lifts up to his, confused, and is met with the smoldering intensity of his determined expression. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

"Where do you want me to kiss you?" Taehyung queries, face impassive.

Your lips part to answer him, though your mind's blank with shock. You asked for it, yeah, but it still comes as a shock he's actually giving in to your request... You scan his features for some clue as to what's actually going through his head, what he truly feels about it. But find nothing. Any emotion is shut out, concealed. Taehyung's always been good at poker face, and you resent it now more than ever. You want to know, need to know , if it bothers him. If he's okay with it. Because even if you half expected him to brush it off… that's just not Taehyung. He has such a big, giving heart, he would do anything to make you feel better.

Even lying.

"I need you to be clear. So there's no misunderstandings." Taehyung's thumbs rub at your shoulders.

The motion, his large hands on your wet skin, the scorching heat that radiates off his body... it's all too tempting. Taehyung is presenting himself to you, willing to fulfill your desires. Like an Oasis of rest in the middle of an unforgiving desert of pain, to you, an affection-starved wanderer.

Taehyung stares at you expectant, with an intensity that could burn holes through you, but instead ignites the one inside you, claiming his name. Some other time, under other circumstances, maybe you would've been strong enough to say no... Tonight, you say yes.

"Everywhere. Anywhere. Just make it stop hurting."

Even if it's fake, you bite your tongue. Taehyung leans in to cup your cheek, but you still refuse to look him in the eye. You just can't. Not when you are open and vulnerable like this. Not when he could destroy you at will, because you have given him such power.

"Is this okay?" Taehyung tips your chin upwards to meet him, his breath fans over your mouth. His lips a breath away.

Your eyes catch his, intently staring at your mouth,  waiting for you to give the okay.

"Yes," you whisper, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. Even if we'll both regret it tomorrow, you hold back.

Taehyung nods, as if silently aware of this unspoken warning between you two. His tongue darts out to moist his lips, your eyes following the motion. He finally closes the distance as both your eyes close.

It's soft. Such a soft, shy kiss, it breaks your heart. Because Taehyung is giving you love, as best as he can, even if he doesn't feel it. It's nearly too convincing, but you should know better.

The kiss breaks with a sigh, and he dives again, bolder. Taehyung takes your lower lip, pokes his tongue, tentatively probing the entrance. You let him in without much resistance, following his shy dance with a much more desperate of your own. Taehyung's tongue feels good in your mouth, makes you crave more and more.

You writhe in his lap, your hands reach for his firm chest, sliding over it's planes. Taehyung whines in your mouth and you swallow the sound with a moan of your own. Things are escalating fast as you grow more desperate the longer he kisses you, and the otherwise quiet room starts filling with sounds of your wet, wanton kisses. Taehyung's hands pull you closer, until you're flush with his body. You shiver in his embrace, soaking in as much warmth as you can. Taehyung's fingers play with the hem of your wet blouse, his fingertips brush the naked skin beneath.

"You're so cold," Taehyung breathes against your lips, a delicious huskiness to his tone of voice. His long fingers lift more of the material, caressing the skin it hides. "Can I...?"

"Yes, keep going." You capture his lips in a searing kiss, bite on his lower lip, hoping to convey your urgency.

There's sight of a slight curve to Taehyung's mouth, before the fabric of your blouse covers your vision and is thrown across the room. Taehyung's right, your skin is cold despite the terrible headache and feverish hotness clouding your judgement. His hands rest on the curve of your waist, the warmth permeating into your touch-starved skin. A shiver runs through your spine, your body trembles under his firm grasp; his undecipherable stare. You hold it, utterly hypnotized by his deep brown eyes. The beauty of his perfectly sculpted features, defined by the streetlight seeping through the curtains. Outside, it's still raining, the faint snap of a thunder is heard in the distance.

You're too busy gaping at the man before you to notice his hand snaking down, unbuttoning your uncomfortable jeans. The zipper slides down with a groan, your hips shift against Taehyung's in anticipation. The air is knocked out of your lungs as Taehyung pushes you to lay on your back on the couch, ripping your jeans off your skin. The material joins your blouse somewhere on the floor with a thud, as Taehyung pounces on you.

There's a curious look on his face you can't pinpoint, as his eyes devour your exposed body from head to toe. Both of you are panting, you realize. His gaping stops as his eyes meet yours; his frown deepens. There's a painful, conflicted expression on them. It pulls so tightly at your heartstrings, you think they might snap. You're nearly half-naked beneath Taehyung, shivering, aching to be touched, but he's not doing anything. If you two were to stop now, at this point, you think you would die .

"Do you really want this?" Taehyung rasps as he leans into your ear. His hips come flush with yours with a rock of his half hard erection, for emphasis.

You whine in response, unable to form a coherent answer, lest it be your own body talking. Your legs open for him to situate between them, enthusiastically lifting your hips to get some more needed friction. His hands pin your writhing hips to the couch in retaliation.

"I'm gonna need a yes or no answer, babygirl." Taehyung bites onto your earlobe, stealing a whine from your throat. You tug at the locks of soft, brown hair and voice your confirmation with poorly concealed eagerness. "Mmmh.. alright. I might give it to you, if you're good," Taehyung chuckles. A deep, dark, humorless sound that makes you shiver in anticipation.

Your pussy is drenching wet and clenching on nothing by this point. You just want some needed relief in the form of his fingers down there. But Taehyung's hands are too busy outlining the curve of your breasts; rubbing the pad of his thumbs over the lacey material concealing your hardening nipples.

"You just want me to make you feel better for a moment, right?" Taehyung growls, and rips the flimsy material of your bralette off your chest. "Everything will still be the same tomorrow morning… " Taehyung's busy leaving open mouthed kisses and bites all over your neck as he says this, but you think you catch a bitter tone in his words that have your heart stuttering.

"T-that's right." You gasp, when the warmth of the brunette's mouth envelopes your nipple. His tongue flicks it and circles it, sucks on it, making sure to make the lewdest of sounds in the process. His dark eyes never leaving yours.

"T-tae… !" you whine, as he pinches between his fingers your neglected nipple. You're so sensitive and so needy, you might cum from just him stimulating them and kissing your neck. There's something else you want though, and if you've already crossed the line, might as well fuck it.  

"T-tae… I need…" you lift your hips in search of his, but meet thin air. You feel Taehyung stiffen, and he stops.

He removes himself from you, sits back on his calves and takes off his shirt. Painfully slow might you add, for show. When the piece of clothing is gone, there's a slight smugness to the curve of lips, and the way he bites his lips. It's immediately suffocated though, by the way his hands reach for yours, when he places a single, gentle kiss on one of them.

"Alright. Come." Taehyung's smiles, and your heart bursts at the sight into a million butterflies. It's the first time you've seen him sincerely smile tonight.

He guides you to his lap, and soon enough your legs are straddling his hips once again. Your mouth's drinking in his moans as you grind your soaking wet pussy into his rock-hard erection, sure to leave a stain on his sweats. It's a delicious feeling. Taehyung's so painfully hard (and expectedly big) you can't wait until all of him is buried inside you to the hilt... It's when you're busy entertaining this fantasies, when his fingers catch you by surprise.

Taehyung's fingers tease your labia through your panties, gently petting over the soaked material. You whine at the contact, wanting more, needing more . Taehyung groans in response.

"So wet…" Taehyung's middle fingers slide into your drenched pussy, pushing the lace aside. They slide all the way up to your clit, collecting your juices in his hand, and then down again probing at your entrance.

"That's it, good girl." Taehyung coos, satisfied with the lubrication. "So nice and wet for me. Such a nice cunt…"

You're clenching around nothing, expectant to the moment his fingers will finally fill you and give you your release. But Taehyung seems to want to take it slow. His thumb starts rubbing your clit through the material, in lazy, circle motions. His middle fingers tease your entrance in up and down strokes, with little to no penetration… it's frustrating, to say the least. Has you writhing in his hands. The teasing is too much, the rubbing of Taehyung's thumb too slow. Your mouth latches onto his, moaning half-hearted pleas, for him to go faster, for his fingers to dive deep. Taehyung enjoys taking his time collecting the slick seeping from your entrance, and dripping onto his shorts. His thumb and forefinger pinch your clit through the cloth, and the pressure, the texture… it's too much. Too much tease and no release.

"Please.." You grind your hips onto his hand. "Please fuck- ah!"

Without warning, his two long fingers are thrust into your pussy and coiled on the inside. It gives you whiplash, how fast the pace is changed. Taehyung's fingers pump furiously into your cunt, as his thumb rubs your swollen clit.

It's so much at once your eyes roll to the back of your head from the overwhelming sensations. Your orgasm is building and so close to snapping, the squelching sounds of filth that fill the room drive you to the highest pleasure.

"Cum, princess, cum for me." Taehyung's guttural command, beckons.

Your pussy snaps, releasing even more fluid on taehyung's eager fingers; his thumb presses onto your clit as your hips spasm and your whole body tenses. A wanton groan leaves your lips as you ride the powerful spasms on Taehyung's slowing fingers. The brunette's mouth leaves open, wet kisses on the expanse of your throat. All the way to your mouth, where his tongue takes its time to savour you with its languid caresses. He continues rubbing, and petting you until the oversensitivity becomes too much to bear, you whine in protest, but Taehyung merely chuckles.

"Still want my cock after that?"

You feel a fresh wave of blush flush your face at the bluntness of his words. Your mind's still reeling from your orgasm's high; no thoughts, head empty. It's uncomfortable enough that Taehyung's seen you so vulnerable, even more so that's he's asking if you want his cock so nonchalantly.

"Or would you like my tongue?" He growls, licking a stripe on a sensitive spot on your neck that has you trembling in his arms again.

Taehyung's hand reaches to cup your face, his thumb strokes your skin with the gentleness of a feather. It feels good, like it puts together all the broken pieces. You melt into the touch, ignoring the tears pricking at your eyes, silently promising not to cry anymore for tonight… It's the way he looks at you though, when he says the next words (with such a sad smile on his lips), that does it for you.

"Tell me where it hurts, so I can kiss it better."

Taehyung doesn't wait for an answer, before he's diving between your legs with a hungry mouth. His tongue pokes out to flick at your battered clit, and your body recoils and tenses from the oversensitivity. Taehyung chuckles as your thighs tremble under his grip, when his flattened tongue sweeps up and down your lips, teasing the hole of your entrance.

You're not sure you can live with the guilt of engaging in a second round, when it's so obviously clear to you, now that you've gotten what you wanted, that what you're doing is so very wrong… but the attention feels nice. Taehyung's tongue feels nice; wet and warm, lapping up the mess you made. His stare grounds you to the moment, pins you to the couch; your thoughts can't wander too far under the smoldering heat of his eyes.

Taehyung laps at your cunt until he's satisfied; parts from your lips with a kiss. When he lifts his face from between your legs, a boxy smile is plastered on his face. The brunette crawls over to reach for your face again.

"Y/N, I'll always be here for you. If you're happy, I'm happy." Taehyung's thumb brushes away the tears streaking your cheeks. Tears you didn't even notice you were shedding.

It's heartbreak all over again, but a different kind. You throw your arms around the boy's neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. There's the heavy taste of you on his tongue, but also him. Kim Taehyung. There's a lot of him in the way he kisses you back, and holds you so adoringly; you drown in it for the rest of the night. It feels so good to feel happy and content after so much repressed hurt, you break into tears again. Happy tears, guilty tears. The dam inside you just breaks.

As Taehyung whispers sweet nothings in your ear, thrusting in and out of you like you're making love with the love of your life, you wonder if you are deserving of such adoration. You're not a "good girl" , nor a "beautiful angel". But he still fucks you like you're the most precious being to grace the face of Earth. You melt like jelly into his arms when your second orgasm comes, and then carries you to his room, bridal style. Like you're an actual couple in love, and him fucking your brains out is a common occurrence.

Taehyung's pillow smells a lot like him, and you bury your face in it for comfort. There's still a broken piece inside you, a dull, faded ache you can't quite ignore. Taehyung seems to know, because as soon as it makes itself known, his arms envelope you in a warm embrace. Outside, rain is still lightly tapping at the window. You lay on the mattress next to him, covered in cold sweat, and he  cuddles you until you're hot and bothered again and cumming on his fingers once more.

The rain stops sometime around early morning, and the sound of birds chirping outside the window, unsettles your stomach. Taehyung's holding onto you like a teddy bear; being held like that fills your chest with thousands of butterflies. But it feels wrong. The night's over, and as Taehyung said it, "Everything will still be the same tomorrow morning."

It's out of place for you to wake in his arms, when you're nothing more than friends, and not completely over Hoseok. It's too cruel, leading the fantasy on, for the sake of your own heart. You free yourself from Taehyung's hold without rousing him, silently scurrying away to your shared bathroom. You turn the knob for hot water until it can't turn anymore. Your mind wanders to Taehyung's mouth on yours, to his large hands holding you together through the night… It dawns on you that your feelings are more twisted and complicated than ever before, because what if you actually feel something for Taehyung now? You're hurt over Hoseok, but hooked on how good it felt to be with your brunette friend. Even if you said you just wanted to feel good for a night… you want more of it now.

But what if Taehyung has feelings for you? What if he has feelings for someone else? Repeating last night for the sake of you feeling better without considering his feelings would be selfish, and using him. Last night… you used him. Even if he consented, you pushed for it... it feels like you used him. You must make up for it, or outright disappear from his life to prevent hurting him anymore…

Out of guilt, you scrub your skin raw under the scorching hot water of the shower, hoping to get rid of any phantom traces of last night's happenings.

You come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, with a towel tightly wrapped around your body, resolute on packing your bags and finding another place to live. Even if the location is close to your work, and a beautiful park, and the lease split into two makes it a ridiculous bargain. You're going over numbers and places in your head, when you bump into Taehyung in the hallway.

"Come have breakfast, I made us pancakes!" He smiles, a shy curve to his lips. His hand grasps yours before you can even refuse, and your cheeks blush at the warm contact.

Your heart's pounding so hard inside your ribcage, you think you might faint. At the pit of your stomach there's a brew of emotional turmoil awakened by your conflicting feelings towards Taehyung, and what happened between you. It's wrong, wrong, wrong , and you shouldn't touch him anymore. Because fucking Taehyung that night to forget about Hoseok was like scratching an itch. It brought momentary relief, yes... But it will eventually bleed .

"I made them with a touch of cinnamon and extra butter, just the way you like it." Taehyung ushers you to sit on a stool in front of the kitchen bar, where an abundant, fruity, pancake feast is waiting. Taehyung smiles in contentment at the way your eyes ogle the plate before you, before rushing to the fridge mumbling something about missing orange juice.

A syrupy, bleeding heart glares at you from the top of your pancake pile. Your stomach churns at the sight.

"T-Tae…" The brunette looks up from where he is rummaging through the fridge. "About last night-"

"I can wait." Taehyung interjects, busying himself with serving you a glass of juice.

You are stunned into confusion, gaping at your roommate on the other side of the bar like he's grown a second head. Taehyung smiles, a full, boxy smile that wrinkles the corners of his eyes.

"I love you." Taehyung confesses, airily, like he's talking about the weather. "I can wait for you to figure your feelings out. I've been doing so for a while now." He hands you the glass of orange juice.

A light chuckle escapes his lips as he sits back and watches you go into silent panic. Your mouth gapes like a fish out of water, you briefly wonder if it's some sick joke, in retaliation for last night. But it can't be, Taehyung's not like that. It can't be when he's looking at you with such unfiltered adoration and mirth in his eyes. The brunette stabs a piece of his own pancakes with a fork, and busies himself enjoying his breakfast. You follow the piece going into his mouth, and he makes a show of how tasty and delicious it is: moans, and eye rolling to the back of his skull, and an annoying curve to his lips that have your mind reeling.

"I-I didn't know… " You stutter, averting your gaze to your own plate. You heart's at its maximum capacity, one more tease and it'll burst.

"Of course you didn't," Taehyung dismisses with a wave of his hand. "I only hinted at it a couple hundred times." There's no bitterness in his voice, but playful intention. He's still teasing you.

"Are you for real?" You choke on a piece of fruit. Flashbacks of every single "flirty" interaction between you two that you had dismisses as Taehyung being "friendly" rush to the front of your mind.

"Kidding. I never hinted at it consciously, not even once." Taehyung chuckles. Is that sarcasm? You can't understand sarcasm.

"Dummy." You glare at him, with a mouthful of strawberries.

"You are the dummy." Taehyung grins, reaching over the bar to flick at your forehead. "But you are my dummy." His lips lean to kiss your forehead, a brush so delicate it's barely there.

"I'll always be by your side. I realized it yesterday, when I saw you crying like that, that I always want to see you smile."

Ironically, Taehyung's words bring tears to your eyes. Your eyeballs feel like they're about to burst from so much crying, but you figure the unpleasantness is worth it. So long as the reason behind it is Taehyung.

[cake-writes]

Breathe (Lecture 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Story Warnings: Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Mixed Delivery (Social Media & Written Parts), Eventual 18+

Summary: Bucky takes a history class at his local university in hopes of catching up on the last few decades, on everything he’s missed whilst under Hydra’s control – but he winds up learning a lot more than what’s on the syllabus. He learns how to heal.

Written for @the-omni-princess​​’s 1k writing challenge!

(Formerly Hope & Happiness; I decided that I needed a better title!)

TAG LIST: OPEN

💛 This fic is interactive. Here’s how it works! 💛

So I took the time to find an actual university course to complement this story because I’m just that invested, you guys. (I’m also a huge history nerd, lmao.) The syllabus and lectures are real, and any content relating to these in my story is straight from the source.

Lectures are recorded and available for a listen! Most written chapters will correspond to a lecture; I’ll list which one at the top of the chapter if you want to learn along with Bucky. Each one is about 40-50 minutes long and in English. Click here to access them!

This is definitely optional, though, so please don’t feel pressured to listen, but if you’re a history nerd like me then you may want to take a look!

Wednesday, August 24

Lecture 1: Introductory Lecture

Although Bucky had been on campus a couple of times before now – first to apply, and then to meet with an advisor as all new students were required to do – he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sheer size of it. Universities these days were massive: cities within a city, buildings upon restaurants upon shops and all he wanted to do was learn.

That was all he’d ever wanted to do, really. Learn about himself. Learn what made the world tick. Learn all the things he didn’t know. He’d always excelled in school, and once upon a time he’d started to save money in order to attend university. Didn’t know what he’d study – just knew that he wanted a degree in order to support the family he thought he’d have one day.

Ambitions for the future.

Then came the draft. Because hadn’t yet been able to save enough, he’d been shipped out to the European Theater – sent to hell, not to college.

Ambitions for the past.

Two years spent in cold, wintery foxholes gave him an opportunity to think, but all he could think about was the stench of death surrounding him, surrounding his unit, surrounding every waking moment of his life at war. Not his death, of course, but it may as well have been.

Bucky learned to hone in on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the rush of adrenaline in his veins, the sensation of his boots in mud and snow. He learned to focus. He learned to survive.

And all the while, he lived with the very real possibility that he wouldn’t make it through – and, well, he didn’t. Not really. Some parts of him never made it back; what little remained became the property of Hydra. Mind corrupted, soul shattered, will broken into sharp, jagged shards of glass.

Fragile. Breakable. Erased, but still alive.  

Bucky may have survived, but he’d never really been right since – never really been whole. Physically and mentally, with too many pieces of himself missing or damaged, one constant stayed the same: a desire to learn. He’d gotten through the war and Hydra’s harsh training because that quality was a part of him – one of the only parts that made it through.

Battle-worn and weary from surviving – not living, not really – Bucky finally had the opportunity to take a step back from the battlefield to just… exist. To live. To breathe. In taking a leave of absence, he embarked upon another journey: to rediscover the man he used to be.

It would be difficult task, he knew. The twenty-first century was far cry from the 1940s, a far cry from home, and the sheer size of the college campus only served to remind him of that. In fact, he was only able to recognize that he was still in New York because this school happened to be the very same one he’d once planned to attend so long ago. Staten Island University. Right across the bridge from his present-day apartment in Brooklyn, not to mention his old family home.

Home.

But this unfamiliar new century was his home, now, so he sought to learn what he’d missed over all the decades he’d lost to Hydra. In the process, maybe he’d learn about himself, learn what made the world tick, learn all the things he didn’t know.

What better place could there be to do that than at a university?

Bucky soon found out that his education would be paid for by the United States government for his service in the military. Ironic that the very barrier which forced him into war was the same thing being gifted to him now. The GI Bill. A reward for his patriotism. A thank you for his sacrifice.

Flowery words for a bribe meant to keep him silent. Call him jaded.

Worse still, if Bucky thought tuition was expensive back then, he didn’t know what to call it today. He’d been rendered speechless when he found out what a single class would cost, but rest assured, Uncle Sam would pay for it so that he didn’t have to.

Physically, it only cost him an arm but mentally, it cost him so much more.

U.S. Society and Politics Since 1945. Mondays and Wednesdays at two o’clock. Three credit hours, whatever that meant. He signed up for the class after his first meeting with an advisor – thought that it might do him good to put his past behind him and learn.

Bucky arrived about twenty minutes before the class was due to start, all nerves and first day jitters – absolutely ridiculous when he really thought about it, so he tried to put it out of his mind and selected a seat in the very back row in hopes of not being noticed.

Counting seats proved to be a good distraction. Three hundred seats. Would there really be that many students? Save for a handful of his new classmates scattered about, the too-large lecture hall seemed like it would never fill. Sure enough, however, it eventually started to – not all three hundred seats, but close enough.

It wasn’t until then that Bucky realized he might have been woefully unprepared. Just about everyone else had laptops sat out front of them, and while he could use one – clunkily – he still preferred something more a little more tangible. All he’d brought along was the required textbook, a notebook, and two pens, one of which he’d been rolling in between a gloved thumb and forefinger for the last few minutes. 

That was a nervous tic of his, one he’d picked up in the army, except today it was a pen instead of a cigarette and he sure could have used a pack of Lucky Strikes right now. A cigarette would have done wonders to take the edge off, but he didn’t smoke, not anymore. Frustrated, he dropped the pen back down onto his desk and slumped down in his chair.

Had school always been this nerve-wracking? He couldn’t remember.

A snort drew his attention, and Bucky glanced to his left to find you sitting a few seats down in the same back row, watching him in amusement. 

It caught him off-guard.

“Is this your first class?”

A innocent question, unprompted – untainted.

While Bucky knew that there would be some socializing required, especially in the discussion section of the class, never in his wildest dreams did he think that anyone would be willing to strike up a conversation with him. He had half a mind to say ‘no’ and ignore you as long as possible, but for whatever reason, he didn’t. He opened up.

“How could you tell?”

You shrugged. “You’re fidgeting, for one. But mostly because you don’t have a bag.”

Why would he need a bag? He was only taking one class.

At his doubtful look, you spoke again, voice light and airy, “Don’t worry. You’ll learn.”

Well, that was foreboding. Then again, you seemed like you would know. You looked slightly older than most of the other students who were likely fresh out of high school, and you appeared to be all sorts of prepared, what with a leather laptop bag on the chair to your right and some brightly-coloured notebooks, binders, and a few thick textbooks all strewn about the desk in front of you.

A laptop bag, but no laptop. Strange.

Bucky wasn’t really sure why he wanted to know, but he nodded to your books and asked anyway, “What else are you taking?”

“Mostly upper-level psychology classes. I’m in my final year. What about you?”

“This is my only class,” he admitted, and to him, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. He was only taking the one class with no particular goal in mind, but here you were, taking at least four other classes judging by the number of textbooks on your desk.

You had a goal. 

He didn’t.

You didn’t ask why, though; instead, you offered him your name, along with a bright smile.

“Bucky,” he found himself telling you way too easily.

“Well, Bucky, it’s nice to meet you.” You paused, then, before you made an offhanded comment of, “I think it’s really good to have a friend in class, you know? Mostly so you can steal their notes when you skip.”

A joke, perhaps, but Bucky took it literally. That may have been the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “I’m not gonna— Who pays thousands of dollars in tuition and then decides not to come?”

Your brows rose in surprise for a moment or two, but then you laughed at his stick-in-the-mud response. “Oh no, you’re one of those. What a goody two-shoes!”

Don’t worry, you’d said. You’ll learn.

But the mischievous sparkle in your eyes let him know that you were just teasing, and what’s more, he actually didn’t mind. No, he kind of liked it, having some normal human interaction for once – not whatever the hell he’d grown used to at the compound. Between blood-spattered banter in the field and too-dark humour used as a coping mechanism, his interactions there were anything but normal.

Bucky also liked that you had no idea how wrong your sentiment was; not that he’d never admit it. This was the first time in a long, long while that he’d been treated like a regular person – not enhanced, not a science experiment, not an Avenger – and he had no intention of shattering the illusion anytime soon.

“I’m not giving you my notes, either,” he deadpanned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Super goody two-shoes. My mistake.”

When he opened his mouth to respond to your sassy one-liner, however, the professor’s voice sounded from the front of the lecture hall. You gave him a final wink before you turned to face the front, purple pen already poised and ready to go.

Good afternoon! Can you hear me in the nosebleeds? Yes? With me? Okay…

Forty-five minutes passed in a blink, and most of the students quickly started to pack up their belongings – but not you. No, you stayed in your seat and continued scribbling away at something in your notes, seemingly having zero plans to leave anytime soon. Bucky couldn’t help but be curious as to why you weren’t packing up, but it wasn’t any of his business and he didn’t ask.

Armed with a new syllabus and a daunting list of required readings for the week, he pulled himself to his feet and collected his own belongings; only managed to push the chair back in and take about two steps toward the door before he heard your voice again.

“Hey, Bucky, wait.”

He turned around to see you still reading through one of your textbooks, not even looking in his direction, but in your outstretched hand was a bright pink sticky note.

What?

“Come on,” still focused on your reading, you waved the post-it, pink paper flapping in the makeshift breeze but staying stuck to your finger anyway, “Take it. Here.”

Hesitantly, Bucky stepped closer and accepted the proffered note. Upon it, he found that you’d hastily scrawled your name and phone number, along with what he assumed was meant to be a smiley face. The drawing was god-awful, and a welcome distraction from the way his heart had immediately leapt into his throat because a woman had just given him her phone number.

Her phone number.

“Th— Thanks?” he stammered, unsure.

Now, he certainly wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but this—

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” you interrupted his train of thought, finally pulling your eyes away from the textbook to look up at him. 

Gorgeous, glimmering, big doe eyes focused right on him, now, and seeing you up close like this, a fleeting thought crossed his mind about how attractive you were. He blamed it on the fact that you’d just given him your number, and now his brain only wanted to overthink what he’d interpreted as the first sign of potential interest from the opposite sex in – well, far too long. 

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that at all, and he wasn’t particularly interested to pursue such a thing, either. At least not right now. He still needed to get his head on straight; still needed to figure out his own problems before he took on someone else’s.

Even if you were a pretty little thing he might have taken dancing, once.

Then you added, “If you have any questions, just shoot me a text, okay? I remember how lost I was when I first started, especially because I’m a,” you did some air-quotes, then, “‘mature-aged’ student.” Another snort, one much less ladylike than before. “Mature-aged. I’m not that old!”

So it was a friendly offer. Nothing more. Not like the implications in the 40s – and Bucky thought, then, that if you were considered to be ‘mature-aged,’ he didn’t want to find out how he’d stack up.

“Thanks,” he said again, this time a little less unsurely. “I appreciate it.”

Another one of your bright smiles brought a sense of calm over him, a feeling that carried over even when you poked fun at him again, “Then I guess I’ll see you next week, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes.” 

“Yeah,” he responded, feeling the corners of his lips turn up just a little at your goodnatured teasing. “See you next week.”

And when he left the lecture hall, fluorescent pink post-it stuck to the inside of his notebook, Bucky’s footsteps felt just a little lighter than before – and so did his heart.

Part Two

[miraculoussage]

Breaking Out

Sorry for the lack of formatting regarding this section. My laptop charger broke so I’m currently stuck with mobile, and I am not great at mobile text organization. Also sorry for the lack of a read-more. Once again, mobile :(  fixed bc i have a laptop again B)

Rating: General

Characters: Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir main character; lots of other characters making an appearance, lots of Plagg, Marinette/Ladybug, and Gabriel

Relationships: Light love-square (pre-relationship)

Other tags: Trans boy Adrien, mostly closeted trans Adrien, transphobia (no transphobic violence), mentions of a dead name but no actual use of the dead name, misgendering, mentions of Dysphoria; supportive friends, Gabriel Agreste is a soggy tissue, minor mentions of diet control, minor redesigns of LB and CN costumes, major redesigns of civilian Adrien bc closet trans. Use of the word queer as an identifier and not a slur.

Part 2

♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

The worst thing about being a popular fashion model, Adrien thought, was his image pasted all over the city. He had to see himself in the mirror enough as it was; seeing himself dressed up in the most feminine clothes his father could design, his long blond hair professionally styled into curls and braids and up-dos, and with enough makeup for three circus clowns made his skin itch. All of Paris, all of the world saw him as he was on the billboards and posters, in heavily edited magazine photos, set on backgrounds of flowers and butterflies. Everyone saw Adrien as a girl, Gabriel Agreste’s beautiful model daughter. Everyone except himself.

He had thought about coming out to his mother and father before, but while he was trying to find the nerve or the right moment, he overheard his father firing one of his models for coming out as trans. After that, his anxiety grew. He could never tell his parents, especially his father, not until he was living on his own and not relying on his modelling career and his father for survival.

Even when he went to school for the first time, he had to introduce himself as his dead name and endure the misgendering. He had considered coming out to Chloe, too, but while she didn’t seem to be transphobic, he didn’t trust her enough to keep it a secret. She thrived on gossip, sometimes even at the expense of her friends. Whether or not it was on purpose didn’t exactly matter to Adrien in this situation.

Plagg was the first person he ever came out to, not entirely on purpose. When he transformed into Chat Noir the first time, he actually cried for a few minutes. He felt different and he felt right and when he caught his reflection in a mirror he saw exactly who he wanted to be. Aside from his inhuman eyes and the strangeness of the costume, of course. His hair was short and messy and the makeup his father insisted he wear every day was entirely gone.

His costume was thick black leather, covering his whole body up to his neck where a bell sat at his collar. There was soft padding on his shoulders, elbows, and knees, barely visible under the leather. He had black combat boots with green soles that reached half way up his calf, laced with bright green laces, and lined with soft material if the same colour. His gloves, too, were black leather with soft green lining, claws on the fingers. Over the black bodysuit, he had a sleeveless hoodie; the fabric was looser and lighter than the leather, it almost seemed like cotton except it was sleek and waterproof. The pouch pocket was bright green with a single black paw print in the middle. All of the lining was the same bright green, visible in the hood and extending to the hems of the shirt. The hood itself had spaces cut out for the leather cat ears on his head, and fit loose and comfortable without falling over his eyes. Most importantly to Adrien, his chest was entirely flat without pressure.

After the first Akuma was stopped and Adrien transformed back, Plagg was suddenly gentle where he wasn’t before. “So what was that, then? What are your pronouns? Got a different name than the one I know?” After answering the questions and having another emotional moment, Plagg was back to being aloof and snarky, seemingly only concerned with cheese.

Adrien warmed up to the little cat-god fast. It felt more than amazing to be called the right thing for once, and Plagg at the least acknowledged his angry and frustrated rants about anything related to his gender that he’d never been able to share with anyone before. “As long as you keep giving me cheese,” Plagg had said, but somewhere along the way the meaning of the sentence changed to “always”, unspoken but genuine.

At school, things started out nice despite the rough start from being Chloe’s friend. The misgendering and dead name weighed down on him, though, and soon his new friends shared their concern about him. No one had any idea what it was about. It could be anything from his father to his mother to his modelling to just not getting enough sleep, but he’d hidden himself enough that no one would ever guess what it truly was about.

Nino was good about (sort of) silent comfort, offering to talk about it but relenting easily and moving to sharing music, food, memes, stories, and just a comforting presence. Alya always tried to figure out what was wrong and when she came to her own conclusions she would give him advice, though it was never the advice he needed. And Marinette...

Though Marinette was shy and got flustered easily, when her friends were in pain, she would stop at nothing to help them feel better. When he sighed about going home at the end of the day, she would invite him over to do homework, which usually ended up actually being video games. It became almost a routine by the spring, the two of them (and sometimes their friends) hanging out in the Dupain-Cheng apartment, snacking on yesterday’s left-over pastries while they played games, watched movies, talked, or rarely actually doing homework. Marinette’s parents were incredibly kind to Adrien, he was even envious that Marinette had such a supportive family. She was open about her biromantic identity, and never suffered for it at home.

As a result of their time spent together and Marinette’s own tendencies to not back down from helping her friends, she was the second person he came out to. It was a mess of tears between them, and Marinette apologized profusely for the misgendering, despite having no idea she was doing it. It made Adrien laugh, which made Marinette laugh, and then they were both laughing and crying at the same time. When Sabine came up to check on them, Adrien found he didn’t care that she was seeing him like this, and didn’t try to hide his identity from her anymore. Then, Sabine was crying with them, hugging Adrien close and giving him all the affirmations he never got from another human. (It was then that he decided he was now Adrien Dupain-Cheng, and she and Tom were his new parents.)

They all understood how important it was to keep this new information a secret, from everyone. If it got to his father or, gods forbid, the media, everything would go to hell in a hand basket. Marinette helped him fix his makeup before he left, apologizing even more about him needing to wear it. As usual, Sabine snuck some fresh pastries into his bag while he pretended not to notice when she hugged him goodbye. On the way out, Tom stopped him. The bakery was empty, just closed for the evening minutes before. “Adrien,” the news had reached him earlier via Sabine, “if you ever ever need a place to go for any reason, you’re always welcome here. No questions asked, any time day or night.” He had to hand a napkin to Adrien, tears gathering in his eyes again. As Adrien’s car pulled up to the front of the bakery, they said goodbye for the night, and Adrien was on his way back to the mansion. It wasn’t home, not anymore.

He came out to Ladybug third, but he didn’t know if it counted as third when he was Chat Noir. It was a rather casual interaction, against all expectations. The two of them were jogging across rooftops, keeping their eyes out for any sort of problem, just a regular Saturday patrol. They were talking about TV shows, sharing their theories for the next episode and the rest of the season; Ladybug theorized that one of the characters was a trans man, and Chat Noir seized the opportunity without a second thought. “Oh, like me,” he said, and Ladybug didn’t even blink. She just smiled at him, and he smiled back. Before they parted for the night, she thanked him for trusting her with his secret and promised it was safe with her. “I know, my Lady, I wouldn’t have told you if I thought you wouldn’t.” Nothing even changed between them after that, though Ladybug did seem to talk more openly about queer subjects when they came up.

He came out to other classmates and friends on a case by case basis, with Marinette there for support every time. Nathaniel, Alix, Nino, Rose and Juleka, Kagami. People he could trust entirely to keep it a secret and that he knew weren’t queerphobic from their time knowing each other. He always had some anxiety about it anyways, but with constant unspoken support from Marinette and her parents, it didn’t seem as daunting as before. Nathaniel drew pictures of him with different styles of short hair and more masculine outfits, “for when you’re able to choose your appearance”. Marinette had helped Nathaniel design the outfits, and she had plenty more in her own sketchbook designed just for Adrien. Alix and Nino casually called him “dude” and “bro”, a way to affirm him without actually outing him, since the terms were so casual and usually neutral.

As his support outside of the mansion grew, Adrien realized day after day just how terribly he was treated by his father, and Natalie and the other staff by proxy. Aside from his father’s thinly veiled queerphobia, he also controlled Adrien’s diet, his schedule, his social life, his career, his finances, and almost every aspect of his life. Before going to school, he thought most families were like that. It wasn’t until Alya complained about being saddled with babysitting again and the others lamented with her that three evenings that week was a bit excessive that Adrien realized most of his classmates actually got to decided what they did in their spare time without having to beg for permission. They got to choose what to eat for lunch, some even got to make their own food, and they didn’t have to follow a strict diet. They weren’t constantly afraid of their parents punishing them at the slightest mistake.

He spent more and more time at the Dupain-Cheng’s, at home, they even gave him his own key. More than once they’d woken up early to open the bakery, just to find him curled up on the couch in his clothes from the day before, the throw blanket wrapped tightly around him. Marinette made plenty of casual clothes and loungewear for him, until half of her closet was his. They almost always had a plate of leftovers from dinner with his name on it in the fridge. One afternoon, they surprised Adrien; the room that was formerly the office was converted into a full bedroom with his clothes moved into the closet already. The room was even decorated, soft green and light grey, paintings on the walls, a desk with a silver cat paperweight next to a lamp. Plagg seemed even more excited about it than Adrien was, which was saying a lot because Adrien was over the moon. They really were serious about the “anytime, no questions asked”.

After three years of school and crime fighting, Adrien made the biggest decision in his life. He talked to the bank and a lawyer. He had his rightful savings moved from the account under his father’s surveillance to a brand new private account. He had his friends and real family at his back. And then, he came out to his father. It went about as well as he expected; Gabriel threw a fit, accused Adrien of acting out for attention, and ultimately ended up locking Adrien in his room and forbidding him from going to school. Fortunately for Adrien, he had an escape plan in the form of a magical ring.

He was across the city in a matter of minutes, detransformed, and contacting his lawyer. His emancipation was officially in process. He texted the Dupain-Cheng family chat letting them know he told his father and it didn’t go well, but he was not in the house and he was safe. They were the only ones who knew about his plan, given they were part of it all. Though the idea of living full time with Marinette gave him butterflies, he could ignore his crush for everyone’s comfort.

Before his father or Natalie had a chance to suspend his access to his accounts, he made an Instagram post. A photo of himself, no makeup and his hair pulled back into a bun so it wasn’t so visible, wearing one of the more formal outfits Marinette made for him (a blue suit with a white undershirt and a pink bow tie). It had been taken a few days earlier, in front of a nondescript grey wall in his bedroom, unable to be linked to any location. As the caption, he wrote “Adrien Agreste, he/him, proudly trans! Stay strong, and know you are loved.” He posted it in as many transgender and fashion tags as he could, and was happy to see screenshots of it spreading almost immediately before it was taken down from his own account and his access was cut off. He texted Marinette one last time to tell her he would be unable to contact her over the phone, then turned the phone off, left it on a nearby cafe table, and disappeared down an alley. Thirty seconds later, Chat Noir was vaulting between buildings, headed nowhere in particular.

Stick around for part 2! ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ

[wedreamerz]

Roll You In Sugar

Follow Up to Buttons

Written for @mcukinkbingo 

Square Filled: SugarBaby/Daddy 

Pairing: Tony/Peter. (Peter is 18+)

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Tags: Daddy/Sugar Baby, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Smut, Fluff

“Good night, Daddies,” I blew a sleepy kiss to my guests before turning off the camera.  It was a good show.  The guests had been encouraging, their comments just enough to tip me other the edge.  But I was disappointed when youknowwhoIam was mostly silent through the show.  He’d thanked me at the end but other than that, he’d been quiet.

I fell back onto my bed, surrounded by discarded clothes and dildos, hoping he hadn’t been disappointed with my performance.  A little chime sounded on my laptop, indicating a notification had come through.  I stretched a groaned, not wanting to move, but curious, a little hopeful.

<youknowwhoIam> private: You’re stunning, Sweetheart. Where are you? Let me take you to dinner? Let me spoil you like you deserve.

~~~~~~~~~~

He wore a mask, black lace that obscured his features but did nothing to hide his beauty.  I was hard, leaking and throbbing with need but I didn’t touch myself.  This performance wasn’t for me, despite his cheeky Iron Man underoos.

The others talked to him, shouted commands.  I couldn’t bring myself to speak.  I wanted to whisper in his ear.  I wanted to hear him moan when I touch him, open his tight little ass on my fingers.  He deserved flesh, flowers, kisses, and silk - not those cheap nylon stockings that clung to his firm, pale thighs.  I wanted to put him in the finest. And I wanted him all to myself.

Chest flushed, cock so hard in his fist, he came so pretty.  I watched, breathless and aching when he let go, little nose scrunched, mouth open and ready for me to fill it.

God… did I want to fill it.

 ~~~~~~~~~

My heart raced.  He wanted to meet me...like... actually meet me.  I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t meet a complete stranger I’d barely spoken to.

Could I?

<Underoos> private: How do I know you’re not a serial killer?

<youknowwhoIam> private: I’m not.

<Underoos> private: But how do I know?

<youknowwhoIam> private: I’ll prove it. Turn on your camera.

<Underoos> private: Why?

<youknowwhoIam> private Trust me, Sweetheart. All I wanna do is show you something.

I bit my lip, butterflies at war in my stomach.  I was still naked and for a moment I considered staying that way.  He’d already seen me come. But outside of the show, it felt strange, a little too exposed.  So, I pulled on my Iron Man hoodie and zipped it up before turning on the camera.

The window popped up as usual. And I saw that youknowwhoIam was the only one in the chat.  In the next moment, my screen flickered, and another window popped up, a black screen that scrolled with code for just a second before it lit up, revealing someone’s chest.

The software didn’t work this way.  I couldn’t see any of the guests, only chat with them.

“What the…” I whispered.

A large hand covered the camera lens, distorting the screen for just a moment before it pulled away and…

My stomach dropped down to my knees.

“T-Tony Stark?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The boy had a point. I could be anyone.  But I wasn’t.  And the fastest way through that argument was revealing my identity.  I had no qualms about it.  I wanted him to know me, know who I was and what I wanted.

Friday hacked the system and with a quick adjustment to the camera, I got to watch that beautiful face light up with excitement and awe.

“T-Tony Stark?” he said, eyes wide.

“See, I told you, not a serial killer,” I said with a smirk, leaning back against the headboard.

“H- how did you…right...you’re Tony Stark. Of course, you hacked my computer.”

“Not yours. Your company’s. Just a little piggybacking off of their cam feature.”

He smiled at that, genuine and so fucking sweet.  He shook his head and shrugged.  “Why?”

“Because I want you to take me seriously. I want to take you to dinner."

He looked into the camera, bit his lip.  "But why me?" he asked with a frown. "I'm just a broke college student trying to make a little money camming."

"Let's just say I don't like to share. I want you all to myself. Just dinner. No obligations. No strings. I'll fly wherever you are. And if you never want to see me again, so be it."

"I… I'm…"

He was looking for an excuse to say no.  But he wanted to say yes; I could see it in his eyes.

"Come on, Sweetheart… what do you have to lose?" I said softly, careful not to swing his pendulum in the opposite direction.  "Tell you what, let's just start at the beginning. What's your name?"

He glanced to the side at something off-camera - a door maybe? Was he alone? Did he have a boyfriend? I didn't care. He drew a breath and seemed to come to some kind of decision.

"Peter. Peter Parker."

~~~~~~~~~~

He sent a limo.  A long, black stretch limo.  A week after Tony fucking Stark hijacked my webcam, it pulled up in front of my apartment, standing out like the sorest of thumbs.

I had been waiting on the stoop, hoping May wouldn't notice.  I hurried forward as a tall, kind of cranky looking man got out of the driver's seat and met me on the sidewalk.

"Peter Parker?" he asked, eyeing the row of apartments with only a touch of distrust.

"Um, yes."  I gulped and shoved my hands in the pockets of my only good dress pants.

"Great. The Boss asked me to tell you he's sorry he couldn't be here to pick you up. He'll meet you at the restaurant. My name is Mr. Hogan. I'll be your driver tonight."

He opened the door for me, and I stepped back, second- no, fourth guessing this decision.  What was I doing? I had no business meeting a client.

But it's Tony Stark, that thirsty voice in the back of my mind piped up.  The one that had been there when I'd jerked off to the countless posters, magazines and leaked bootleg, cellphone porn videos.  He was my celebrity crush, my goal.  I wanted to be like him: genius, superhero, philanthropist.  He made a difference.

But it's Tony Stark, that other voice spoke up, the one who never failed to notice the articles about the people he'd been spotted with.

"Come on, kid. Boss isn't gonna wait forever," Mr. Hogan said, nodding at the open car door.

"Right, uh, sorry," I said as I climbed in.  

It was quiet inside, warm and cozy in contrast to the February chill.  The only coat I owned looked horrible with the grey dress pants and a blue dress shirt I'd chosen.  So, I'd ditched the coat and topped the outfit with the soft grey sweater May had gotten me last Christmas.

I didn't know where we were going or even if what I was wearing was appropriate.  I mean, Mr. Stark was used to the best, the finest.  I looked down at my pants, already wrinkled, and frowned.

This was a huge mistake.

~~~~~~~~~~

I'd done my research. 

Peter Parker had graduated high school early and was at the top of his class, in his third year at Empire State University where he majored in Biophysics and minored in journalism.  He was a photographer and had had several of his photos featured in The Daily Bugle just this year alone.

I couldn't help but be impressed.  Not only was Peter the most beautiful creature on the planet, he was a fucking genius.  But what made my boy truly fascinating was what he got up to in his spare time. And I'm not talking about camming. Imagine my surprise when I learned that my boy had a secret identity that had nothing to do with Underoos.

When the limo pulled up to the restaurant, I smiled and sauntered out from under the awning.  I waved Happy away and he waved back in acknowledgment as I opened Peter's door.

He looked up at me, all wide-eyed and fresh-faced, like a fucking princess ready for the ball.  His cheeks were flushed, lips bitten pink.

“Mr. Parker?" I said and extended my hand.

"Mr. Stark."

He smiled; a tiny thing that grew until his eyes lit with pleasure.  His hand in mine wasn't something I was prepared for, the warmth, the want of never letting it go. Neither was his cheeky grin.

He looked up at the restaurant I'd chosen and chuckled.  "Not quite what I was expecting," he said.

I eyed the little brick building and nodded.  "It's my favorite Italian joint in Queens. They have the best -"

"Chicken parm, I know," he said.  "We order from here all the time."

"Good. Unless you'd rather go somewhere else? Uptown? I have a jet; I could take you for real Italian food."

"Oh, no no no… I'm not complaining. I love this place. I just assumed…"

"That I'd take you to some big fancy Manhattan hot spot?"

Peter nodded and looked down at his shoes.

"Would you have been comfortable there?" I asked, gently turning him, tipping his chin so that he met my gaze. "Meeting me for the first time in the middle of that chaos?"

"No," Peter admitted.

"That's why I chose here," I said, not admitting to hacking his google account, looking through his Yelp reviews.  "I wanted you to feel comfortable."

"Thank you. I... I was a little intimidated. I mean…"

"I know, Sweetheart. But you shouldn't be. You're young, sure. But I did my homework. You're brilliant.  Come on. They're holding a table for us in the back."

~~~~~~~

Hand on the small of my back, he guided me inside.  I melted, literally leaned into his warmth. I'd known he was beautiful and witty.  But to have the full force of Tony Stark's undivided attention, to be swimming in that warm espresso gaze - it was more intoxicating than any amount of attention I could ever receive from the men in the chat. 

I'd expected wooing, amusing anecdotes from his trip to Japan or the last Avenger's mission.  But he continued to surprise me.

"So, tell me about your classes," he said after we had ordered.

"Oh, um… I'm studying Biophysics. But you probably already know that," I said.

"I know what you're studying and that you're top of your class. But I'd like to know what your plans are. What do you plan to do with your degrees?"

"I'm not really sure yet. I guess, whatever I do, I just want to make a difference," I said.  "I want to do something to help people."

He listened.  He didn't once look at his phone. He didn't interrupt me and seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. Which was more than I could say for most guys my age.  But then guys my age never did interest me.

Dinner flew by so fast.  When the waiter brought the check to the table, I focused on the slice of chocolate cheesecake we were sharing. I'd reluctantly agreed to dinner and now that it was over, I couldn't help but want more.

~~~~~~~~~~

The limo was waiting, a toasty warm refuge in the flurry of flakes falling from the sky.  He'd agreed to dinner and fulfilled his promise, but I didn't want him to go.

Peter shivered and I frowned, noticing that he wasn't wearing a coat.  I stepped closer and smiled. 

"Thank you for coming to dinner," I said softly and stroked his cheek, not missing the way he leaned into my touch.

I wanted to push him into the limo, pull him to my arms - into my bed.  I wanted so much more from Peter Parker than a one-night stand.  I wasn't a jealous man.  Morally, I had no issue with the way Peter made money.  But the thought of the men in the chatroom watching Peter in his most intimate moments made me want to break things and I knew I'd never be able to handle it.

I wanted Peter all to myself.

"I had a good time," he said with a smile so sweet it made my teeth ache.

"Don't you have a coat?" I asked and he looked down, cheeks pink from more than the cold.

"It didn't look good with my outfit," he mumbled.  I pushed down the possessive urge to wrap my arms around him and instead took my coat off and set it over his shoulders.  It was too big, but he snuggled into the warmth with a grin.

"But now you're cold," he said.

I tipped up his chin.  He didn't resist.

"Then come keep me warm," I said.  "Come home with me, Peter."  I held my breath, expecting an argument or excuses.

But Peter didn't pull away.  He smiled and stepped closer.

"I'd like that."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Come here, Sweetheart," Tony purred and patted his knee.  I'd never wanted to be anywhere more and moved into his lap without hesitation.

He ran his hands up my thighs and chest, then cupped my face.

"You're so beautiful," he said.  "And smart. Peter, I'm so amazed by your mind and impressed with your tenacity and kindness. You should be proud of everything you've accomplished."

I loved the way he made me feel, all melty and out of my head.  On camera, I was in control. In my day-to-day, I had to be very aware of my schedule, budget, and time management.  But in Tony's arms, for the first time in I couldn't remember how long, I felt like I could let go.  

Tony Stark thinks I'm amazing. I couldn't help but wonder what he would think if he knew that I had yet another secret identity.  That I was the vigilante crime fighter for the people The Bugle had been going on about recently.

He rubbed his thumb over my lips, gently pressed between them when I opened for him.

"So fucking pretty," he breathed.  "Can I kiss you, Sweetheart?"

I nodded, expecting him to swoop in for the kill. Instead, he slowly moved his hands down my back, cupped my ass and yanked me closer.  He was hot, already hard, and smelled like a fucking dream.

I closed my eyes and moaned when he bent, not to my lips, but my neck.  He nibbled up the length, pausing to bite and suck at my earlobe before tracing my jaw with his tongue.  I tipped my head back and revelled in the attention.  He took his time. nibbling and sucking his way to my lips.  When he finally got there, finally took my mouth, I was ready to give him everything.

Demanding, luscious, his kiss was all-consuming.  I let him take control, bent to his will until I was panting and rolling my hips, desperate for friction.  He pulled back with a pop and then sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make me moan.  He pressed soft kisses to my lips and then across my face.

I whined when he grasped my hips, slowing my movements.

"Slow down, little Spider," he whispered.  "I want to see you come apart in my bed."

It took a moment for his words to sink in, moving through the chemical cocktail in which my brain was swimming.

I gasped.  Eyes wide, I met his gaze, suddenly shaking.

"Shhh, it's okay. Yes, I know your secret. But it just makes me want you more."  He stroked my back, soothed my fears.  "You're so amazing, Peter Parker. Let me show you how much. Let me spoil you. Let me ease your way."

~~~~~~~~~~

Peter tensed as the reality of my words sunk in.  Yes, I knew he was Spiderman.  Friday had found out while doing a facial recognition on the boy.  A security camera had caught a few seconds of his face as he dipped down an alley to change.  When Spiderman emerged a few moments later I put it all together.

"You're so amazing, Peter Parker. Let me show you how much. Let me spoil you. Let me ease your way."

"M-Mr. Stark...I--"

I had to be cautious.  Peter was proud. And he should be. I didn't want him to think I was trying to take anything away from what he'd done on his own.

"I want you, Peter," I said softly, stroking through his curls.  "Forgive me for prying -- it's what I do. But everything about you is a fucking wonder.  Everything I learn just makes me want you more. But Sweetheart, I don't think I can share you."

Peter frowned, pouting just a little bit. My stomach clenched.

"What do you mean?"

"Watching you online...Jesus, you're fucking beautiful.  Those men don't deserve you. Peter, I... when I say I want you -- I want you all to myself. I can't… I don't think I can handle sharing you like that."

Peter looked me in the eye and shook his head.  "But I... that's how I support myself."

"Let me."

Peter shook his head and frowned. "Let you what?"

"Let me support you. Let me give you everything you need. Everything you deserve-"

"Mr. Stark, I'm not...I can't… I'm not gonna be some Sugar Baby. I work hard for-"

"Peter, just listen to my proposal, okay? Just listen to me. And if you never want to see me again, I'll have Happy drop you off at home."

"Happy?"

"The bearded man in the driver's seat."

Peter huffed a laugh.  "Ironic. I like it. Okay, go ahead," he said after a moment's consideration.  I thought it was a good sign that he didn't pull away or move from my lap.

"You're brilliant, Peter. And investing in your future would not just benefit you. I have to look out for me, too. And to that end, I need bright young minds like you in my camp. I want to offer you a full ride to your current or dream school of your choice. You study, spend your time being brilliant, graduate and then come work for me. I'd be an idiot not to snap you up before my competition gets wind of your accomplishments."

"But I still need to live. And Mr. Stark, you just met me. How can you even be sure that you'll want to continue seeing me?"

"You're right. I know, shit happens. There are no guarantees that you'll want to continue seeing me either. I mean, I snore sometimes and I can't fucking cook to save my life."

Peter giggled at my joke and I smiled. I wanted to pull him into my arms, but I knew I had more work to do if I was going to seal this deal.

"That's what contracts are for, Sweetheart. We negotiate, each party gets what they need, and we both go home happy. Or even better, we go to bed happy."

Peter bit his lip and looked at where my hands rested on his thighs.

"All this because you don't like to share?" he said softly.

"All this because I see so much potential in you. I want to encourage you; I want you to see that you deserve more than what you're settling for right now. You've done an amazing job. I am only offering to make it easier for you to achieve your goals."

Peter smiled and finally met my gaze.  "And the fact that you wouldn't have to share me with the men in the chat room?"

"Consider it a bonus," I shrugged.  “Besides, you’re fucking Spiderman.  Imagine the things we could do together.”

Peter laughed and kissed me, soft and sweet and so fucking delicious.  Then he scrambled out my lap and crawled over to the minibar.  He grabbed a handful full of napkins and then climbed back into my lap.

"Do you have a pen?" he asked.

As we made our way out of Queens and headed toward the tower, Peter and I engaged in the fine art of negotiation.

~~~~~~~~~~

We left a trail of scribbled up napkins and clothes from the door to Tony's bed.  Specifically, my clothes.  He'd stripped me bare while he remained fully clothed in the most beautiful suit I'd ever seen - charcoal with a pale silver shirt and lavender striped tie.

Tony pushed me gently onto the bed and stood up with a playful smirk.

"Be a good boy," he said.  "And watch."

I bit my lip as he slowly removed his jacket, breathless with anticipation.

"Per Article 2, Subsection 1 of our agreement, I'm now basically your Sugar Daddy. And I get to roll you sugar as often as I desire."

"I don't think that's how it's worded."

"Hmmm, but that's the spirit of the agreement."

Tony winked and moved over to his dresser.  "In fact. I'd like to start right now."

I sat up, my feet barely touched the plush carpet as I perched on the edge of his bed, curious.

"I loved your outfit the other night," he said.  "But my Baby gets only the best."

He handed me a flat, black box with a silver ribbon around the middle.  I slid off he ribbon and squirmed with excitement.  He'd bought me something before we'd even come to an agreement.  I wasn't used to relying on someone else to buy me things.  Sure, the Daddies on the chatroom bought me sex toys and underwear off my wish list.  But none of those gifts had ever been given with such an expensive brand name on the box.  It thrilled and terrified me at the same time.

My cheeks warmed; the flush spread down my neck as I opened the box to find a pair of real silk stockings.  They were black with a row of tiny, silver spiders around the thigh.

"Daddy," I breathed, stroking the fabric.  My body responded as I imagined how they would feel against my skin.  I'd never owned a thing so fine and delicate.

"May I put them on you?" he asked.

"But… I don't want to rip them," I answered, looking up to Tony's eyes.

He smirked and cupped my cheek.  "Baby, if you rip them, I'll buy you another pair."

I bit back a gasp.  Tony chuckled as he devoured me with his eyes, watched as I hardened from just his words. 

”Lie back," he said.

I did as he asked, heart beating wildly in my chest.

He took my foot in his warm hands, massaged strong fingers into the arch.  When I moaned with pleasure and closed my eyes, he murmured, "That's it, Baby, relax. Let me spoil you."

Tony pulled one stocking from the box and scrunched it around my toes.  He pulled it up, smoothed it up my thigh, and tugged the band into place.

"Exquisite," he said, stroking up and down my calves.

I peeked through lowered lids to watch him to the same with the other stocking and then press kisses up each of my legs.  I loved the warmth of his breath through the silk.

"Perfect. See the way they fit you? Like a second skin," Tony said, rubbing his lips just above the band.  "I only want the finest to touch your skin, Peter. And tomorrow, after class, we're going shopping."

I opened my mouth to argue but he pressed a finger to my lips.  "Indulge me, Sweetheart."

My cock throbbed.  The way he said even the most innocent of things made me wild, made me want to climb into his lap and please him.

"Okay, Daddy," I said, preening when he beamed at me.

"Good boy," he purred.

~~~~~~~~~~  

I wasn't prepared for the way those words made me feel.

"Okay, Daddy."

Peter had said them on the video, talking to the men.  And yeah it had been hot.  But this time… this time those words were all for me and it was as if he'd given me the keys to Disneyland.

"Come here, Baby," I said, pulling him to his feet.  "Show Daddy how you look."

Peter did a little turn, his cheeks on fire.

"You look so fucking pretty, Baby. You wanna show Daddy how much you like his gift?"

I was worried for a moment that I had taken it too far, that he'd be offended.  But he whined and nodded before falling to his knees.

"That's it, Baby," I crooned, running my fingers through his hair as he undid my belt and pants.

"Daddy," he whispered, almost to himself, when he pulled my cock free. I smiled.  He was so fucking adorable.

He wrapped his hand around my shaft and leaned forward to rub his lips over the tip. 

"You're so big," he said, breath warm against my skin.  

"You like it, Baby?" I asked.

He pressed a kiss to my frenulum and looked up at me with the most mischievous expression before parting his lips and taking me between them.  He took me slowly down his throat and for a moment I couldn't breathe.

Peter closed his eyes and shuddered, pulled back with a little gasp.  He smiled and looked up into my eyes.

"Fucking amazing," I whispered.  He squirmed and smiled at the praise, nibbling little kisses up my shaft and around the head.  He licked around the tip, little pink tongue flicking and teasing until I thought I might come like that.

"Fuck, Baby. Come here, I'm gonna come if you keep that up and I don't wanna come in your mouth this time."

He whined and pulled off my dick with a salacious pop.  I wiped his chin and patted his cheek before pulling him to his feet.

I removed the rest of my clothes and sat down on the bed, scooting back to lean against the headboard.  Peter scrambled into my lap as soon as I held out my hand.

"Condoms?" he asked, and I smiled.

"Good boy," I said and rummaged in my bedside table for the box and tube of lube.  I handed them to Peter, and he smirked as he set them aside within reach.

"Fancy," he commented, eyeing the brand names.

I shrugged and gathered him to my chest, trailed a finger down his spine. "I told you, Baby. Only the finest touches your skin," I whispered and continued down between his pert little cheeks.  "And that includes this sweet little pucker here."

Peter moaned, pushed back on my finger.

"Open me up, Tony," he murmured into my chest and stroked the sensitive skin around where the arc reactor had been.  

He had to know what he was doing, had to realize what he traced.  But he said nothing, only kissed the spot reverently and pushed back against my fingers again.

"Okay, Baby," I said and grabbed the lube.

Peter made the most delicious noises.  As I fingered him open, he whined and moaned, rocked his hips in a languid dance that left me breathless.  Our cocks brushed together with just enough friction to excite and tantalize but not tip us over the edge.

"M'ready, Daddy, please," Peter whispered, scooted back and reached for the box of condoms.

Watching Peter concentrate might be the cutest thing in the world - especially when he was concentrating on rolling a condom down my shaft.  He took his time, little pink tongue between his teeth as he drizzled lube down my length. 

Satisfied, he looked into my eyes and said, "How do you want me, Daddy?"

I pulled him closer, ran my hands over the swell of his ass, and squeezed.  "Just like this, Baby. Ride my cock."

Peter wrapped his arms around my neck and rose up on his knees.  He took me slowly, eyes never leaving mine.  I moaned as he quivered around me, desperate to thrust, take his tight little hole.  But I reined in my control and let him lead.

"Oh my God, you feel amazing," he breathed into my neck.

"So do you, Baby. Now please, for the love of all that is holy - move."

~~~~~~~~~~

Filled and enveloped, I lost track of where I ended, and he began.  Never had I been so consumed. The scent of his skin, the taste of his kiss - I took all of him into me in return.

"Daddy," I breathed.

"Don't chase it, Baby. Let it come to you."  

He bit my lip and thrust up into me.  I met him on the upstroke, sparks burst behind my eyes.

He caressed my silk-clad skin, hands skimming over my thighs, moving up to grip my hips.

"You look so fucking pretty in those stockings, Peter," Tony growled.  "I love the thought of you in pretty things, perfect, beautiful things.  Things that I buy just for you."

"Daddy," I cried out.  "Please." I needed...I needed everything, wanted all of him.  He reached between us and grasped my cock, gave it a squeeze that made the sparks return.

"So hard for Daddy. So ready to cum all over his new stockings."

"Yes."

"Yeah?" 

"Daddy!"

"Come for me," he whispered, lips on my ear, hand around my cock.  With a few firm strokes, I was there.  He pulled me down to take all of him as he grunted his release.

I looked down to find my cum on my belly and thighs, thick white streams soaking into the fabric, into the pale skin that showed through a few tears.  I shuddered and squirmed as Tony pulled another stream from my body before I collapsed against him, warm in the cocoon of his arms.

He pressed kisses to my temple and stroked my back as we caught our breath.  Still hard, Tony moved just a little, slowing sliding deeper inside.

Into the silence that followed, I whispered, "I ripped my stockings, Daddy."

Tony chuckled.  "It's okay, Baby. Daddy will get you a truckload of stockings. A pair for every single day."

I snuggled into his chest, rubbed my face into the soft hair, tracing the ridge of scar tissue with my tongue.  I was unprepared for how utterly cared for he made me feel.

"And I'll wear them only for you," I said, meaning it.  Why...how could I ever want anyone else?

Tony released a breath he seemed to have been holding.  I smiled, charmed by his little insecurities.

"Just you," I said again.

He kissed my forehead and rested his cheek against my head.  

"Just for you," he repeated my words. I knew them for what they were.

I giggled, sleepy now, light as a feather.  "You gotta. You signed a contract."

Tony huffed a laugh.  "Baby, I don't need a contract to hold me to that promise," I heard him say as I fell asleep in his arms.

[bugaboowritings]

Punk!Marinette - A Short Drabble-

Marinette Helps Adrien out of a Tree

 I have been going down holes as I avoid spoilers. Even found my unfinished writing about Punk! Marinette just had to polish it up. Inspired from art under the punk Marinette tag and @musicfeedsmysoul12 who wrote some things on this au. 

Also I’m slowly posting my work at ao3 to make it easier to find, my username is bugaboo0scrambles for anyone interested. 

Marinette clicked her tongue with satisfaction. Admiring her work with her mirror. With years and years of practice, applying winged eyeliner still seems like a game of Russian roulette. Going perfectly amazing or making her say “screw it” before giving herself a smoky eye to cover it up the ‘step-sisters’ she painted on her lids. Yet, it was a part of her routine, something she kept since that summer ago spent watching strangers talk about products and brushes.

The laces on her boots drew out the gap between leather and skin as if it was a long sign. Marinette tugged on her laces tighter before reaching a fixed level of security. Fitting in like a second skin. Her hand smoothed over her slick new shoes, relishing its aesthetic allure and not helping the snicker that came up her throat. The heels on this pair were a whopping 3 and a half inches. Nothing major compared to the other shoes on display in the market, but it was enough to give her the needed height to make her a pinch taller then Alya.

With that, she carefully went down the stairs. Watching her step as she got comfortable to the new height. Accepting her death only twice while she barely caught herself from tumbling down the stairs.

Stuffing the long laces into the inside of her boots before making it out of the backdoor of the house. Her hand on the doorknob, other on her hip. Calling out to her parent goodbye as the front of the bakery buzzed with customers.

Nibbled on her maroon-stained lips before checking the trash can. Emptying it to before her parents forgot about it.  

The fresh air outside was mixed with the sounds of cars and that horrible unidentifiable “alley smog” rushing to her head. Pushing the plastic bag out the doorway and into the alley. Stepping out before her dad escaped the customers to plot a kiss on her daughter’s head. His beard carried traces of flour while his apron was clean except the splash of fruit-filling by his knee. Wishing Marinette good luck at school before he rushed to get more ingredients as her mother yelled from the front to take care.

Marinette lightly swept her bangs to get rid of her father’s messy, flour kiss. All while her nose crinkled at the smell of day-old eggshells and butter wrappers. Holding her breath and feeling her wrist twist as she opened the dumpster to throw in the trash. Not helping the gag that came up as the garbage smelt of sun-baked vomit cookies. Letting go of the metal lid causing it to slam shut. If her caffeinated tea didn’t wake her up, then that harsh sound did. Even scaring off the black cat that slept peacefully before screeching off into the street.

-----

“How lame.” Chloe scoffed. Rolling her head like a rag doll as she raised her sunnies from her clear-blue eyes. Her nails, done and polished, flicked the lone blonde strand over her ear.

“Nice shoes, Mari!” She yelled. Booming her voice through the quad. “Matches the whole clown suit too!”

Marinette flipped her off without even looking in her direction. Making her way to the other end of the school to meet up Alya. The one classmate that could manage a conversation with her without being intimidated.

Alya typed swiftly on her keyboard without bothering to look at the keys. A skill that Marinette envied and Alya swore to be like second nature after months of drafting sharp observations over comics, movies and Paris local heroes on her blogs. She sported the denim jacket Marinette decorated for her with patches and pins all with a khaki pleated skirt. Topping it off with her very own white-tee. Her new merch, a commission by Marinette, for her Ladyblog.  

“Alya.”

“Marinette.”

Marinette threw her bag under her before lifting her ankles to cross her legs. Rocking back and forth, waiting for the typing to slow down. Once it did, it reached a sudden stop.

Alya sighed and saved her work before tugging her bag on her lap. Sliding her laptop out of harm’s way.

“I got a new scoop last night.” Alya grinned. Relaxing into her seat. Crossing her glossy legs.

“You will never believe what I saw, girl!” Jumping on Marinette as stars lit up in her eyes. A quick transition from her blank expression earlier. Marinette, knowing where this was going, played dumb.

“Let me guess,” Mari hummed, narrowing her eyes at nothing in the distance. Only to get spooked when Alya shook her.

“AHH! I can’t wait! Just let me tell you!!”

Smirking at the journalist. Alya, as if her tongue was on fire, spit on her amazing story.

There she, in the middle of the night, getting a drink of water. Like how she always did when she was staying up late for an article. Only to hear a loud noise outside. Assuming it’s an Akuma before considering the idea of an earthquake happening in the middle of Europe or a plane crash. Incentively fishing for her phone to see the most amazing sight ever. The greatest thing to hit theaters in its time. The most inspiring and jaw-dropping things to ever live in black and white. The scaly, creepy Godzilla! Stomping out the streets of Paris in the dead of night. Apartments lights flicked on as the beast strolled through the street. Holding in its roars as it tossed its tail. Missing a building by a hair. With a “zip” and a “wow”, the Parian hero duo leaped neighborhoods and buildings. Chat Noir tossed his baton in the air, saving Ladybug by the fraction of second from being dino-chum as she twirled up into the air. Ladybug’s yo-yo looped around the monster swiftly with her momentum, tripping the beast toward the bottom of the Eiffel tower. With Chat Noir’s cataclysm ready, Ladybug called on her lucky charm and-  

“- and Agreste at 10.” Alya murmured. Watching Adrien come through the front door with Nino by his side. Laughing at each other as they look back to Nino’s phone. Marinette turned around, groaning- knowing this morning routine too well. Trying to make herself seem smaller as she pushed back her shoulders. Hoping to go under notice. Already feeling his lime-green eyes on her back.

“I’ll be hiding in a tree or at the art studio, whatever I reach first.” Already grieving the loss of a perfectly good morning. “Text me if you need me.”

“See ya.” Alya waved. Slumping back to the bench as Marinette rushed away in the opposite direction of Adrien.

-----

“Marinette!”

“Agreste.”

“Ah. . .Come here often?”

Marinette had to stop the snort that came up her throat. Being a second late as a small chuckle left her lips. Having to shut down her face to not give Adrien the fuel to keep going. Bring back that dull expression as she watched Adrien struggle a little bit more.

“I don’t usually come here, but if I do I’m not dangling out of trees.”

“Uh,” Agreste hummed. Unsure what to say as he felt the tingling of blood rushing to his head competed with the deep blush that appeared on his cheeks. Or maybe that was just the pain of his blood rushing to head. Yeah, maybe it was the blood rushing to his head. 

On the bright side, however, it made it harder to see if he’s blushing.

“I’m practicing my tree climbing. . . ?” He smugly answered. 

“Practicing,” Marinette repeated. Letting that lame reason melt on her tongue before she even thought of accepting it. Crossing her arms as she stuck her leg out. Her heel rocked back and forth on the dirt. Creating a little hole as she thought this over.

“I’m not one to try and get into someone’s business-”

“You’re not getting in my business. I MEan, I-I don’t mind you asking about it. .!”

Marinette kissed her teeth. “Right . . . “

Biting her lips as she left out a long sigh. Pitching the bridge of her nose, the click on her rings hitting her septum piercing. She’ll regret this, she knows it already. She just had to humor him, even if it was a little longer.

“So Agreste. I would hate to bother this,” Marinette motioned. Her hands raised up and down and around. “But you seem like you need help? Do you need help to get down?”

“. . .Actually, yeah.”

----

“Why is Marinette pulling Adrien out of a tree?” Alix questioned. Pointing out the window when Alya and Mylene came over. Her finger covering the odd scene outside.

The three girls press their faces up the glass as they watched the commotion outside unfold.

“It looks like Marinette is shoving him in a tree to me...” Alya mumbled. Squinting her eyes before she removed her glasses. Rubbing them quickly against her shirt before pushing them back up her face.

Mylene bit her thumb, “Do you think we should go and help them? Maybe they-”

A muffled thump hit the ground. A puff of dirt rising in the air, covering the teens outside. Coughing as they waved the dust away. Marinette smoothed the dirt off her jacket as Adrien groaned.

“I think they’re fine.” Alya hummed. Returning to her notebook.

“Okay, so what did you get for question seven?”