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cloudteawrites · 3 years

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chapter: seven ( 12.3k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The sound of your phone ringing rips you from sleep. You sit bolt upright, confusion and panic dousing you like twin buckets of ice water. You’d been having a nightmare about something, but you can’t remember what. The tattered ends of it are already slipping away, just out of reach. You don’t chase after them.

You fumble for your phone in the dark, fingers groping uselessly at your blankets until they close around it. The bright white light from your screen blinds you as you flip it over and you blink blearily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and trying to answer with the other.

“Hello?” you rasp, mashing the speaker button. “Who is this?”

“Apologies for disturbing your sleep, ma’am.” A woman’s voice crackles over the other end of the line. You can hear exhaustion dripping off every word. “This is Officer Kwon from the Namhyeon-dong precinct of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Force.”

You squint into the dark expanse of your bedroom, a little frown on your face as you struggle to process what she’s saying. “....okay?”

“I’m calling because we’ve got two of your hybrids in custody.”

You blink slowly. “Hmmmm, I don’t think so...” you mumble through a yawn. “They’re all in bed.”

“We ran their numbers through the registry and you were pinged as the owner of both.” You hear papers shuffling and her voice get distant as she transfers the receiver to her shoulder to free up a hand. “We’ve got a rabbit calling himself Jeongguk and a Seokjin who the rabbit says is a deer-” She sighs. “Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here. They won’t tell me where they came from and the phone number of the business they were registered to before you is out of service. They’re hurt pretty bad, worse than what we can take care of here at the station. We can’t get them any sort of medical care without their guardian’s permission, so-”

Your eyes glaze over as you groggily connect the dots.

A deer and a rabbit.

Not canine, not feline.

Other.

You shove the covers down your legs and kick them over the side of the bed. “I’m on the way,” you tell her, already adding up the distance between your building and Namhyeon-dong. It’d take an hour to get all the bus transfers you needed- your eyes narrow as you squint at the time on your phone. 3:27 AM. You’d have to get a cab. Your stomach twists at the thought of the fare, but you shove the feeling down. This was no time to be thrifty. “Do whatever you need to.”

The officer exhales in relief. You can practically hear the tension leave her shoulders. “There’s a little hybrid clinic in the neighborhood. I’ll see if I can get the vet up and convince them to go.”

“Thank you,” you breathe. She gives you the address and you type it into your notes app, reading it back to her twice to make sure you got it right. She hangs up with a promise to see you soon and your phone locks, leaving you alone in the blue-black gloom of an early morning.

This wasn’t great. This wasn’t great any way you sliced it. You’d thought you’d have an extra two weeks to get the canines settled and all five hybrids to at least not want to kill each other. That’d been the plan, at least, when you’d sequestered yourself in your bedroom without telling Jimin and Taehyung goodnight or doing any introductions. Now the others were coming and you were on borrowed time. You drag your hands down over your face. “What are we gonna do?” Nothing but silence answers you.

When you were a kid and you’d had anything big before you- a massive school project you’d waited til the last moment to start, having to walk yourself to the market because your mom was too sick to go, a hard conversation with a friend- your mom had always told you to break it down into smaller pieces. Make the big thing small; do what you can for now. So, that’s what you do.

You shove your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, tug your backpack out from under your bed and grab a pair of socks. You slide them on as quickly as you can and head for the door. You tug it open and try to rush through, already on the way to your next small thing- but you stumble over a shoulder and go down.

You let out a yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into one of pain as your forehead knocks against the other person’s. Your hands slam down on either side of their head and their own fly up to your waist to steady you. You blink down at them, willing your eyes to adjust to the dark.

Hoseok is beneath you. He’s squinting up at you, his hair in disarray and his cheeks puffy with sleep. “Ow,” he croaks.

You wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing the spot on his forehead your own knocked against on autopilot. He seems to wake up a little at that, eyebrows inching up his forehead. You snatch your hand back. “Ah, sorry. I was worried I hurt you-”

“I’m okay,” he rasps, his voice still thick with sleep. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay.” You disentangle yourself from him and rise back to your feet. He struggles to get up too, mirroring you. The blankets pooled around his hips fall to his feet. You frown at the picture he makes, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and indents on his cheek from the hardwood. “Did you...did you sleep out here?”

His ears fall and he lowers his head a bit between his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did…”

You wrote off a lot of the behavior the boys exhibited that you didn’t understand as just a part of them being hybrids. When Taehyung affectionately headbutted you, or Jimin always hopped up on counters or Yoongi lapped from glasses instead of sipping, you just accepted it and stashed it away to google later- but this was a little more concerning. Did he not feel safe in his room? You’d tried to put him and Namjoon as far away from the felines as you could, but you also knew the cats weren’t thrilled about sharing their space. You hoped they hadn’t made him feel too unwelcome after you’d collapsed into bed.

“Is everything okay?” His ears twitch as the smell of your worry fills his nose. He leans forward and for a moment you think he’s gonna close the distance between you- but he pulls back.

“No,” he answers. You feel your heart sink. “I just...your room is closest to the front door.” You blink at him slowly, not following. You don’t know how his sight is in the dark, but he must see the confusion furrowing your brow,because he continues. “Your room is the only one on the first floor and it’s close to the living room and front door. We all sleep upstairs. If someone broke in, they’d get you first.” He tosses a finger down at the blankets. “I was sleeping here so that wouldn’t happen.”

“Nobody’s gonna get me, Hoseok,” You soothe, trying to assuage his fears. “I’m nobody-”

“You don’t know that,” he argues back. “And you’re not ‘nobody’ to me. I waited my whole life for you. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to make of that. You’d known Hoseok had been trained specifically to protect the person he’d eventually be sent to, but you hadn’t expected him to be so adamant about it. After all Namjoon grew up in the same place- No. Your expression sours as the thought stops you. No he didn’t. The wolfdog hybrid had been locked away for most of his life and interaction with others had come only in the form of meal delivery. He wouldn’t have had the director’s lessons drilled into his head everyday in the same way Hope had.

Still, no one has expressed this level of care for you since your mom died. You’re not entirely sure you deserve it.

“I was gonna wake up before you did and go back to my room,” he mumbles, kicking gently at the blanket and not meeting your eyes. “I promise, I was. I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his ears drooping more and more the longer you look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hoseok,” You tell him and his ears perk up a little. It was true, he hadn’t. His actions were sweet, if a bit misguided but you were more worried about him than anything. “I don’t know what the director told you or what you’ve heard, but I promise there’s no one after me.” He frowns at that, lips twisting into a little pout. He goes to interject, but you speak again before he can. “If you’re worried about anything, just tell me okay? If there’s anything you need to do to make yourself feel more at ease here, just tell me.” You implore him softly.

Hoseok nods slowly and you see his tail give one small wag. You nod back, and turn to go, but his voice stops you. “I think it would help a lot if I could sleep down here.” Your brow furrows at that.

“This is the only bedroom on this floor, though?”

He whines and looks like he’s about to explain- but a soft voice purring in your ear cuts him off. “He could sleep on the couch,” Jimin supplies, his arms entwining around your middle as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s quite comfortable...Y/N-ah, do you mind dogs on the furniture?” His tone is light, free of the haze of sleep and a little teasing. From the way Hoseok’s ears droop and the way his shoulders curve in, you could tell Jimin hadn’t crept down here for a bit of good-natured ribbing. Your scent sours as your expression does, irritation with the leopard hybrid pricking at you. He lets out a little disgruntled murr in protest as he noses at your neck, trying to get you to soften for him. You tilt your head away from him and disentangle yourself from his arms. It’s three in the morning, you have to cross the city to deal with the fallout from God only knows what, and your neck still aches from the bruise Yoongi had left on it. You have too much on your plate to deal with Jimin needling his new housemate.

“Leave him alone, Jimin,” You exhale, side-stepping the leopard hybrid and heading down the corridor for the door. “Hoseok, you can sleep where you want. I’ve gotta go.”

The doberman takes a step forward. “I’ll come with you-” the icy look Jimin shoots him has him slowing but it’s not until the leopard hybrid bares his teeth at him that he stalls entirely. The sound of his whimper has you whirling around, but when you do, you find Jimin looking at you, blasé and Hoseok eyeing him with uncertainty

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” you toss back over your shoulder as you slide your feet into a pair of shoes. “Please, just...if you can’t be friendly, just do your own thing ‘til I get back.” You lace up your sneakers as quickly as you can and duck out the door. “Text me if you need anything; I’ll call on the way back.” And you’re gone, leaving the leopard and the doberman in the dark.

You are not at all confident in their ability to maintain a truce while you’re gone. You’re almost certain that if you hadn’t shoved your way between Namjoon and Yoongi last night, they’d have come to blows right there in the lobby last night. You punch the button for the ground floor and slump back against the railing of the elevator, exhaustion settling heavy on you now that you were alone again. You’d known Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung weren’t thrilled about sharing their space, but you hadn’t expected this kind of fallout from bringing new hybrids home. You don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make things a little easier, but you want to. Sighing, you resign yourself to more research. You pull out your phone and start typing.

why are my hybrids freaking the fuck out

You backspace. Venting at google wasn’t going to help you figure out what the sharp looks Jimin kept throwing Hoseok while he thought your back was turned meant or why Yoongi had been so furious the other hybrids’ scent was on you.

why don’t my hybrids like each other

Just like all your other searches, this one turns up millions of results. You thumb over the links but none of them are helpful. They’re dealing with puppy hybrids bickering and cat hybrids hissing at each other. None of them cover cross-species beef. None of them deal with exotics. You sigh, lock your phone and tilt your head back to stare at the soft yellow lights in the elevator’s ceiling. You were out of your depth. You’d known that from the moment Mr. Seo turned you into an heiress with a wave of his fountain pen. You get the urge to run, that old niggling feeling that settled like a stone in your mind and made your palms itch.

It’s been years since you last felt the need to pull a disappearing act. You don’t think you’ve done it since the one year anniversary of your mom’s death. The foster home you’d been sent to was a shit show. You found out the woman in charge had been pocketing the money you gave her every month for your mother’s columbarium fees and her urn was in danger of being thrown out. You’d shoved everything you owned into your school bag and walked across the city to get her. When the police found you, you were striding down the side of the highway, her urn clutched to your chest, determined to go anywhere but there.

You hadn’t known where you were going then; you still didn’t now. All you’d had was the urge to flee and fire under your feet. All you’d had was a singular focus on the road ahead.

The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft ding, the automated voice letting you know you’ve reached the lobby. You step out and shuffle across it with your head down, careful to avoid eye contact with the receptionist watching you warily from behind her desk.

It’s a cold night. A blast of frigid air hits your face the second you’re out the door. You curse under your and fold your arms around yourself in a futile effort to keep warm. You should go back upstairs and get the coat Yoongi made you buy. You shift from one foot to the other, weighing your options- and decide against it. If the conversation you’d had with Hoseok was enough to wake Jimin and send him slinking toward you, you running in and out of the penthouse would almost certainly wake Yoongi up. Memories flash in your mind: his hands gripping your hips tight, his rough tongue laving over your neck, that self-satisfied smirk he’d let spread over his mouth. You pinch yourself, trying to stem the heat you can feel crawling out the neck of your sweatshirt. It had upset you, there was no denying that. The warm feeling that’d bubbled up in your stomach at being touched didn’t wash away the fact that him marking you had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with warding off the canine hybrids.

Yeah, you decide, quickening your pace down the ice-slicked sidewalk. You’d much rather face the cold than him.

You make quick work of the walk from Haneul Tower to the streets of the club district. It’s only two blocks up and one over, but by the time you get there, you feel like a giant icicle. You’re out of place in a sweatshirt and scuffed up sneakers among the glitz and glamor of the club-goers, but you don’t have time to deal with your imposter syndrome. You duck into the first taxi you find, pass the old man the address Officer Kwon had given you and settle back.

He complains nearly the entire time about how far out of the way you’re making him go. You apologize as much as you’re able and promise him return fair back to Gangnam if he waits for you. He huffs and puffs, but he still takes you. Forty minutes later, you’re standing on the sidewalk outside of Happy Tails Hybrid Clinic, rapping urgently at the glass. After two minutes that feel like twenty, someone finally answers you.

You think she’s in her late twenties but the dark circles under her eyes she keeps rubbing at make her look older. She’s dressed in the typical winter police uniform, minus her jacket. The pale blue sleeves of her dress shirt are rolled up above her elbows and are blotchy with pale red marks she’d tried to scrub out. Blood. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

She unlocks the door and pokes her headout. “Y/N L/N?” She asks, eyes narrowed against the glare of the street lamps.

“Yeah,” you answer, giving one short nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Officer Kwon; we spoke on the phone.” She opens the door for you fully, stepping back and ushering you in urgently. “I’ll be honest,” she says once you’re safely inside and the door is locked back tight again. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”

You frown at that. “Why wouldn’t I have shown?”

“Most of the time when hybrids run, it’s an abuse case.” She drops into one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room. Her head falls back with a thunk against the yellow plaster. If it hurts, she shows no signs of it, just stares up at the fluorescent lights. You settle on the lip of the chair next to her, feeling awkward and anxious. “The rabbit broke into an Olive Young to steal antiseptic and bandages,” she supplies without you having to ask. “He said he did it for the deer. When he showed me he was…” Officer Kwon exhales sharply and tips forward to rest her head in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you insist softly. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” she answers, voice muffled against her palms. “I pulled your name and ID picture from the national database and the rabbit didn’t recognize you. Even if you didn’t do it, I didn’t think you’d wanna deal with it.”

Your anxiety spikes at her words. What had happened to the hybrids before she found them? Who’d want to hurt them that badly? Your mouth feels dry, but you force it to move. “Do you know who they were running from?”

Officer Kwon shakes her head and drags her hands down her face. She lets her arms fall to her knees as she hunches over in her chair, back bowed with exhaustion. “Whatever the rabbit knows, he’s not sharing,” she exhales. “-And the deer’s in no position to speak up. He’s been unconscious since I found him.” As if sensing you tense, she adds, “He’s on the table now. I think Dr. Cheon put him under sedation.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure if there’s anything you even can. You have a million questions buzzing around in your mind, but so heavy is the weight of them on your tongue that you can’t find the strength to ask a single one. You’re saved by the doctor coming out from the back.

The door right next to the counter that reads STAFF + PATIENTS ONLY swings open and a middle aged woman in cat print scrubs comes out, shoulders hunched in like she’s got the weight of the world on her back. You can’t blame her; she looks every bit as tired as you feel. She stops just short of you and Officer Kwon, peels off a pair of blue medical gloves, dyed sticky red, and tosses them into the garbage can behind the reception desk. “Well,” she huffs, dragging her fingers through the greying wisps of hair that’d escaped from her braid. “It’s done.”

“How is he?” The police officer asks before you can. Dr. Cheon grimaces and leans against the counter.

“If you hadn’t found him in time, it could’ve been much worse.” You think she’s trying to put you at ease, but you don’t want compromising optimism. You want the truth. “An hour or two later and we’d be dealing with a very different situation, medically.”

You swallow and force yourself to speak. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

Dr. Cheon turns her attention to you and blinks slowly, like she’d just noticed you were there. “...this is the guardian?” The police officer nods. The doctor takes you in, eyes roving from the mess of your hair twisted into a bun atop your head, to the scuffed rubber toes of your sneakers. She’s judging you, you know, trying to find something that’d mark you as the reason for the pain and suffering of the hybrids she’d helped. She finds none. “It didn’t happen to them,” she sighs. “Someone did this to them on purpose, likely over the course of several hours.” She tugs the office chair out from behind the desk and sinks into it, her limbs going to jelly the second she’s seated.

“Jeongguk won’t tell me what happened, but I know the signs. Puncture wounds around the entirety of Seokjin’s ankle, remnants of both sedatives and epinephrine in both of their blood, what looks like a bullet graze wound on Jeongguk’s side and he’s got a broken arm,” she rattles off symptom after symptom, each of them making the knot in your belly wind tighter and tighter. “The worst of it is Seokjin’s head. Hairline fractures all along the top of his skull and lacerations on his pedicles. They took his antlers from him.”

You feel sick to your stomach. You knew there were people who hurt hybrids, just like there were people that hurt animals and other people. You just hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with the fallout of one such incident. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Cheon allows. “But he’ll need to be monitored closely during these next few weeks. They were hunted. If they decide to come with you instead of going to the shelter with Officer Kwon, you’ll need to be cognisant of the fact that the trauma from that could manifest in unexpected ways.”

Hunted. They’d been hunted.

You knew hunting was illegal in South Korea, you had that little tidbit tucked away in the recesses of your grade school memory along with the list of provinces and their capitals and the names of all the sailor scouts. It’d been outlawed in the fifties with the rash of hybrid centered legislation after a hunter up in Chungcheongbuk-do had shot a black bear hybrid he’d mistaken for a real bear. It was determined that since humans couldn’t distinguish between regular animals and hybrids shifted down into animal form, hunting had to be outlawed to prevent any accidental killings.

“Were they shifted down?” You ask. “Did someone not realize-”

“No.” Dr. Cheon’s answer is swift and final. “They knew. This was a choice.” The disgust in her voice is palpable.

“There are places that...Some centers cater to people that want to hunt.” Officer Kwon cuts in. “They have hybrids as employees and they let people rent airsoft or paintball guns to come hunt them. It’s supposed to be more ethical than actual hunting. No matter how distasteful I might personally find it, if they have a permit, there’s not really much the police can do unless a law has been broken. ”

“And without any information on where they came from, we can’t prove that one has,” Dr. Cheon finishes. “The most I can do as a vet is submit a report to the police about a possible abuse case and hope it makes its way to the hybrid crimes unit.” You hear the words she doesn’t speak, the meaning behind them. There’s nothing more we can do. They’ll get away with it. This is the end of the line.

Dr. Cheon drops her palms against her knees and forces herself to stand “Jeongguk’s injuries should heal just fine outside of the clinic,” She sighs. “But Seokjin-” she clicks her tongue against her teeth and gives a single shake of her head. “Cervine hybrids don’t shed their antlers like real deer do. There’s no telling if his will grow back or what they’ll look like when they do. All we can do is keep the wounds clean and pray.”

You nod numbly. She gestures for you to follow her and you do, making your way around the reception desk and through the staff door with her.

It’s dim in the back. The overhead lights are off and your path ahead is illuminated only by what light spills over from the reception room and an exam room up ahead. There’s only four of them, but the door to this one is slightly ajar. “Wait here for a second,” Dr. Cheon instructs, slipping through the door and leaving you alone in the corridor. You can hear her speaking softly to someone inside and them answering in even quieter tones. You have to strain to pick up the edge of their voice and even then, you can’t understand what they’re saying. “Would you like her to come in here, or would you like her to stay outside?” You hear her ask. The response is too soft for you to catch but a second later the door swings open.

Dr. Cheon steps out and gestures for the shadowy figure behind her to follow. “It’s alright,” she assures them. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Slowly, they shuffle out from the back.

It’s Jeongguk. There’s no denying what he is, not with the black velvet ears you see poking up out of his mop of wavy, dark hair. They’re alert; they prick toward you when your breath hitches. His eyes are dark and wide and the tip of his nose twitches when he looks at you. You muster up a smile you hope is reassuring and this right foot taps once against the linoleum. Yes, he’s a rabbit- but he’s also fucking huge.

What little research you’d managed to do in between apologizing to your taxi driver and keeping an eye on the fare had been straightforward: rabbit hybrids were naturally timid, needed a lot of attention and were small. Most sources you’d checked seemed to concur that they very rarely cleared 5’5. Jeongguk is pushing 6 feet and he’s built like a professional athlete. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life running for it.

He’s wearing a teeshirt that’s too tight on his chest, the logo of the Seoul police force stretched thin, and a pair of grey sweatpants that are too short for him, both obviously on loan from Officer Kwon. His feet are bare, but there are bandages wrapped around both of them. True to what Dr. Cheon told you, his arms in a cast and wrapped in a sling. There’s scrapes on his knuckles and bruises blooming on the right side of his face. He looks like he’s been through the wringer. Still, he doesn’t slouch or shrink before you.

“Jeongguk, this is the woman we talked about,” Dr. Cheon tells him. He nods, but doesn’t move his gaze from your face once. “You’ll be going home with her-”

“Only if he wants,” You interject and she nods in agreement, quickly adding that caveat in.

“-only if you want.” He nods again and swallows, his bare foot giving another little tap against the floor.

“What about Seokjin?” He asks you.

“If he wants to come too, he’s welcome to, but neither of you have to if you don’t want to.” There’s a little frown on his face as you answer and he finally looks away. You can’t help but think that’s a bad sign, that he thinks he and his friend would be safer in a shelter that they ever could be with you- but then he asks another question.

“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?” You frown at that. Why was it that every hybrid in the city was suddenly so concerned with your marital status? Hoseok had asked you in the car last night and now Jeongguk seemed worried about it as well. Sensing your confusion, he clarifies. “Do you live with any men?”

You wince. “Oh! Yeah, I live with five.” You see his expression darken as his ears sag. “They’re mostly predator-”

“If they’re hybrids, it’s fine.” He interjects, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “I can live with them.”

You relax too. From what you’d seen, most shelters weren’t nice places. They were overcrowded and underfunded. If the news was any indication, some of the worse ones got treated like grab bags by fighting rings, who’d shell out a couple thousand won for a canine hybrid and turn him into a prize fighter. You didn’t want that for them, not if you could provide an alternative.

But was it one though? He said he could live with them, but could they live with him? You think back to Yoongi and Namjoon snarling at each other last night, about Jimin’s little jabs at Hoseok. Yeah, you’d need to have another house meeting when you got home if this was ever going to work. Jeongguk had just been through hell and back; the last thing he needed was a territorial bobcat trying him.

“You can change your mind any time,” You tell him softly. “If you get there and feel like it’s not a good fit for you and Seokjin, you can go, okay?”

He dips his head. “Okay.”

“I think Seokjin can decide for himself.”

Your eyes rocket just over Jeongguk’s shoulder. There’s a man leaning heavily against the doorframe of the room the rabbit hybrid had come out of. He’s in a blue exam gown, his feet bare except for a plain white cast on his left leg. Every part of his head from his eyebrows up is bandaged, but you see soft tufts of red-brown hair poking out from between the layers. He looks human. You’d almost think he was if it weren’t for the oblong pupils in his hazel eyes and supple ears you see twitching as he observes you.

“What are you doing up?!” The alarm in Dr. Cheon’s voice is palpable. “Those sedatives should’ve kept you out ‘til morning.” She takes a step like she’s going to rush to his side- but stops short when he tenses and tilts his chin to his chest. Just for a second, it looked like he was preparing himself to square off against her- like he was brandishing something that wasn’t really there. His antlers, you think. He was trying to protect himself with his antlers.

Seokjin forces himself upright, his knees wobbling as he tries to stand on his own. He looks off-balance, and it’s not just because of the cast. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to stand now that a piece of him is missing. His legs are trembling. “What can I say?” He huffs, sounding like he just ran a marathon. “I like to surprise people.” And then his legs buckle underneath him.

He hits the floor with a heavy thud. Jeongguk and Dr. Cheon rush to his side but he waves them off, eyes closed and brow knit in frustration. “I’m fine,” he insists, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to struggle back to his feet. “I’m fine, I just…I just need a moment-”

“You need bed rest.” Dr. Cheon goes to latch on to his arm to help him stand but Jeongguk catches her wrist, gives a single shake of his head and she drops it back to her side.

Seokjin manages to get himself back standing, but he sways precariously. “If this were a hunt, I’d already be dead.” He swallows and inhales shakily through his nose, doing his best not to gulp down air. “You should have left me, Jeongguk. You know the rules. One falls, but the herd rises-”

“The herd is gone, Seokjin.” The bitterness in the younger hybrid’s voice takes you aback. It’s a black wave, threatening to drown all four of you right there in the corridor. Seokjin stares at him, his jaw slack and pretty brown eyes wide.

“What do you-”

“They’re gone.” The rabbit hybrid’s bruised fingers clench into a fist and he fixes his glare on the tile. “All of them.”

Silence rings in the corridor. Dr. Cheon’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t press for details and neither do you. She’d been right. They’d been hunted. The thought of it turns your stomach. Seokjin closes his eyes, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks as a muscle tenses in his jaw. He’s thinking. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is settled on you. Your heart jumps as your nerves get the better of you, and one of his ears flicks back.

“You’re taking us?” He asks. You swallow.

“Only if you want me to.” An unreadable look passes between him and Jeongguk, the younger’s nose twitching.

“Speaking strictly as your doctor,” Dr. Cheon speaks up, interrupting the hybrids’ telepathy. “You need time to rest and recuperate-”

“Is there any special reason I have to rest and recuperate here?” He asks. You can’t help but notice the slight challenge in his voice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches.

“No, I suppose not,” she acquiesces. She doesn’t look particularly pleased about the prospect of letting her patient go when he was still in the danger zone, but if the look of determination in Seokjin’s eyes is any indication, she doesn’t have much choice.

“Then, we’ll go.” The tone of his voice is final, letting everyone present know that he’s done talking about it.

That's the last that’s said to you or anyone else about it. Jeongguk falls in line with his orders easily and so doesDr. Cheon after she manages to get him to accept a pair of crutches she’d foisted upon him and passes off a prescription for pain meds and both of their check up schedules to you.

“It’s important that they don’t miss these dates,” she tells you at the reception counter, tapping the sheath of papers with one clean, blunted nail. “A single one of them. And make sure they don’t shift ‘til I’ve given them the all clear. Hybrid injuries are tricky, but they’re aggravated by the shift.” You nod, hanging onto every word she says, forcing your tired brain to take mental notes. “And-” she cuts her eyes at Jeongguk and Jin, both of whom are lingering in various extremes in the room, the deer hybrid sitting ramrod straight in a chair in the far right corner and the rabbit pretending to browse informational pamphlets. Once Dr. Cheon’s deemed it safe, she leans closer to you across the counter and gestures for you to come closer as well. You blink in confusion but acquiesce. “It’s important that your current hybrids be made to feel secure with the new additions coming.” She tells you, voice gravely serious. “Do you know about scenting order?”

After a beat, you nod. “Yeah. I mean, I read about it online but-”

Dr. Cheon tuts her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Online sources are shaky at best, wildly inaccurate at worst- particularly forums.” Your stomach flips. Had all your research been for nothing? “What did they tell you?”

“Um…” your brain boots up slowly as you try to recall the hours of research you’d done. “Uh, dominant hybrid first, then in age order?”

The corner of Dr. Cheon’s mouth quirks in an odd way. “That’s certainly a simplified way of looking at it.”

You wince.

“Hybrid group dynamics can be…” She searches for the right word. “Messy to start out with, especially with hybrids who don’t know each other who find themselves with an inexperienced handler. They’re all going to be trying to figure out where they fit in the pecking order as well as how their relationship with you works. There’s likely to be a lot of posturing, not just in order to impress you, but to solidify their place as well.” Dr. Cheon drags a hand down over her face. “Seven male hybrids under one roof...It’d be a miracle if no one’s missing fingers by the time the week’s out.”

“Is there any way I can stop them from being mean to each other?”

“I’m not a behaviorist,” The doctor sighs. “But I’d suggest you start with a conversation.”

You slide into the back of the taxi a little after 5:30 AM and pull out your phone. You’d promised to call on the way back and you don’t want a repeat of what’d happened the last time you’d forgotten. You scroll down your contacts, thumb hovering over Yoongi’s name and you hesitate. You remember warm lips, a rough tongue. You remember hands gripping your hips tight and a possessive growl in your ear. You press Taehyung’s name instead.

The tiger hybrid picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” His voice is slow and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

“Hey, it’s Y/N-” Almost immediately a happy rumbling starts from his end of the line. You can hear the sleepy joy in it and it makes your face warm.”A-and I just wanted to let you guys know I’m on the way home.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, a low, musical sound. “Where’d you go?”

You bite your lip as nerves spark up in you. Well, all things considered, it was probably better for him to find out now rather than later. “The last two hybrids my uncle got…they were hurt and I had to come get them.”

The line is quiet for a moment and you gnaw at the bottom of your lip. Finally, Taehyung speaks. “Ah.” That’s all he says. Somehow, that’s worse than whatever Yoongi growling at the new hybrids or Jimin icing them out.

“I’ll be home in about another forty-five minutes, okay? Could you have everyone get together in the living room for me? We need to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, I can.”

You wince. There’s an almost imperceptible change in his voice. You swallow. “Taehyung, are you upset?”

He hums again like he’s considering it. “No,” he answers after a moment. “I don’t think i am. At least, not with you.”

That does little to allay your fears, but you force yourself to sound upbeat when you tell him, “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The line clicks off and you drop your head against the headrest. A conversation. It should be a simple thing, but you spend the entirety of your taxi ride back to Gangnam with your stomach in knots. If the thought of introducing your two (very injured, very vulnerable) new hybrids to a house full of predators wasn’t enough, you have to try to allay Jeongguk’s inexplicable fear of the taxi driver. The middle aged man isn’t thrilled about ferrying hybrids across the city anyway, but between Seokjin swooning and Jeongguk thumping his foot so hard the whole car rattles whenever the man so much as looks in his rearview mirror, he’s almost ready to put all three of you out on the side of the highway. You have to promise him a 50,000 won tip just to get him to relent. He rolls up the partition, but even that doesn’t put Jeongguk at ease.

The rabbit hybrid is curled up in the corner of the backseat, his back against the door, his injured arm cradled close and his knees pulled up to his chin. His ears are on high alert, twitching at every passing car or stray siren. His whole body is tensed up like there’s a current running through it, like if he lets himself relax for a second, he’ll disperse into nothing. He’s glaring daggers at the partition, but you know he can’t see the driver. The car rolls over a speed bump a bit too fast and he flinches, hand shooting out for the door handle.

You watch him, concern coloring your scent. It’s not your place to ask, you know, and you feel almost stupid doing it, but the words slip out of their own accord. “Are you okay?” It’s a ridiculous question. You can still see the bruises blooming on his cheekbone, see the angry red of his split lip in the stray light of street lamps. His dark eyes flick toward you, round nose twitching.

“How do you know he’s taking us somewhere safe?” His gaze shifts from you, to the partition, to Seokjin, dozing fitfully on your otherside. The deer hybrid had finally surrendered to his pain meds not a second after you’d helped buckle him in. He’d been out cold before the driver had pulled away from the curb.

“Because that’s what I paid him to do,” you tell him, truthfully. You’d never given much thought to how much trust you placed in taxi and bus drivers to not kidnap you before. You certainly had to now, especially when Jeongguk seemed hyperaware of the fact that you’d entrusted all of your lives to a stranger. The rabbit hybrid swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. He gives a little shake of his head.

“He could take your money and still take us somewhere bad. He could take us up into the mountains and Seokjin and I wouldn’t be able to do anything because we’re hurt and-”

“That’s not going to happen, Jeongguk,” you say in as soothing a voice as you can manage to muster up. “It’s really unlikely that that’ll happen, but even if it did, I’d do my best to protect you.”

He snorts, ears tilting back. They brush the roof of the car as they do and he shrinks himself, shoulders hunching forward. “What can you do?” His tone is derisive. “You’re only human. You’re not as fast as us or as strong-”

“I’d try,” you insist, some strong, unnameable emotion tightening your chest at the thought of them in danger. “If if came down to it, I’d still try to protect the pair of you-”

“You don’t even know me.” Jeongguk’s voice is edging somewhere between disgust and disbelief. You look away from him then and at your hands, gripping your knees.

“I don’t,” you agree easily. “But I’d like to. Even if I don’t- even if I didn’t, people should still help each other when they can. We owe each other that much.” The taxi is quiet for a moment, only the sound of tires rushing over the slick pavement and other cars zooming by filling the empty air between the two of you. Finally, the rabbit hybrid exhales shakily.

“I’m not a person.” He sounds resigned to that fact, like he’s accepted a burden far too heavy for him. “I’m not even an animal. I’m a-”

“Just because you aren’t human…” you start off hesitantly, very much aware that you might be crossing several invisible lines. “...doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You have your own thoughts and feelings and emotions. You deserve to have them heard. I know I’m not as fast as you or as strong, but the least I can do is listen to you, right?” The car is silent again. You’re too nervous to look at Jeongguk, worried that you’d gone too far- but then there’s a warm weight against your side. It starts slow at first, just your shoulders brushing against each other, but before you know it, Jeongguk’s leaning his whole body against yours. He’s slumped over with his head tucked beneath your chin like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Jeongguk-”

“I’m afraid.” He admits in a whisper, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “Everything in me tells me to run all the time, but I can’t anymore.” His ears droop and his pretty dark eyes slip shut. This close, you can hear his heart beating at breakneck speed in his chest, feel how he shudders with every shaky inhale. “I’m so tired of running.” He’s terrified. You wouldn’t have guessed from his posture. Maybe the reason he held himself so tight was to stop himself from shaking apart.

You watch in surprise as the rabbit hybrid links his fingers with yours and drops your hand on top of his head, right between his velvety ears. “Help me like this.” You’re frozen, unsure what to do with a six foot tall man practically crawling into your sweatshirt with you. Was this really okay? He’d just been through something traumatic, the details of which you know nothing about. You hadn’t thought he’d want anyone to touch him, much less you, a virtual stranger. You don’t know what to do. The car jerks to a quick stop and the taxi driver leans on his horn, curses jaywalkers. Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens and he flinches so hard you’re surprised he didn’t knock his head into your teeth. He exhales shakily, tilts his head up and brushes his nose along the underside of your jaw. “Please,” he asks in a voice so small you know it’s killing him. “Just ‘til we get there, please just let me be weak.”

That breaks something inside you. Despite how awkward you might feel, he’s sure to be feeling worse. You wrap your arms fully around him, hesitant until you feel him go lax in your arms. You slowly stroke the back of his head and he buries his face in your clavicle, his eyes squeezed shut. “We’re almost there,” you assure him gently as he fists his good hand in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “You’re almost home.”

By the time the three of you arrive back at Haneul tower, the sky is lightening in the east and the first wave of office workers are making their way from your building into the streets of Gangnam. It’s not even 6 AM yet, but the city is stirring.

It takes you a good ten minutes to rouse both the boys and get them out of the taxi. After you’d let Jeongguk cling to you, the rabbit hybrid had fallen asleep quickly, the exhaustion from his turbulent day finally catching up to him. Even in sleep he was latched on to you, a small crease between his brows and his nose wrinkled up. Seokjin hadn’t fared much better. The cocktail of meds Dr. Cheon had given him had rendered him dead to the world for the entirety of the drive back. Even now you were having trouble rousing him.

“Seokjin…” You shake the sleeping stag’s shoulders but the only response you get is a slight hitch in his snoring. “Seokjin, please wake up, we have to go…” You can practically feel the glare the taxi driver is giving you in his rearview mirror. Yeah, the meter is still running, but you’ve taken up enough of his time as it is. “Seokjin, come on…” Jeongguk is standing behind you, staring bleary-eyed up at the apartment building, his free hand fisted in the fabric of your sweatshirt. If he’s cold in his thin tee-shirt and bare feet, he makes no mention of it.

Without warning, the taxi driver leans on the horn. Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, fear making his body tight. Jeongguk jerks so violently you think he’s going to rip a hole in your sweatshirt. You stumble back a few paces, trying to steady the rabbit and stop the pair of you from tumbling into the street. When you manage to right yourself, you slam a palm against the roof of the car and glare in the window at the driver. “Yo, what the fuck?”

The man glares back at you and waves you off. “I don’t have all day!” He shouts. “Get your animal and get out!”

You want to argue with him, you want to make him apologize- but the sight of Seokjin disoriented and afraid stops you. He’s looking at you with hazy eyes, his whole body stiff and his chest heaving. It’s for his sake alone that you hold your tongue. You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, buddy.” You say. “I got you.” He looks from your face to your hand and finally, slowly, places his own in it. His fingers are long and elegant and his hand dwarfs your’s. You tug him from the backseat and he leans heavily on you, hopping awkwardly to avoid walking on his broken foot. You pass him his crutches and he takes them, wobbling awkwardly as he tries to set himself to rights. “Can you stand?” You ask him. He nods and starts limping for the glass doors of Haneul Tower. He’s doing his best to look strong. His back is straight and his head is high, but you don’t miss the tremble in his fingers or the way he winces whenever the wind blows over the top of his head. You shove some bills at the taxi driver with a final, disapproving look, usher Jeongguk up onto the sidewalk and head inside after Seokjin.

The moment the three of you breach the double doors, Jeongguk drops his hand from your sweatshirt. His eyes rove over the glass and granite, round nose twitching at all the scents and his ears standing at attention on top of his head. He pauses, a little furrow between his brows. You’re halfway to the elevators, hovering a foot behind Seokjin in case he falls, before you notice the rabbit hybrid isn’t following you.

You cast a look back over his shoulder and find him gawking up at the hanging lights, mouth slightly ajar and starry-eyed. The corner of your mouth twitches. He’s cute, you decide. The thought leaves you almost instantly when you see Mr. Park powerwalking over to him, a sunny smile on his face. Jeongguk takes notice of him only a split second after you do and his eyes wide. You see him tense up, watch the fingers on his uninjured hand curl into a ball.

“You need to get him,” Seokjin says, sounding like he’s out of breath. You turn your attention back to the deer hybrid. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches and his face is pale. “You need to get him,” he repeats, nodding at Jeongguk. “That man gets any closer and Jeongguk will kick him.”

You whip back around. Mr. Park is closing the distance between them, seemingly unconcerned by the look of distress on the rabbit hybrids face or how his foot seems to be tapping a mile a minute.

“Excuse me!” The older man says, reaching out to put a hand on the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder. “Where’s your-”

“Mr. Park!” You practically sprint over as fast as you can, sliding between the receptionist and the hybrid just as he’d started winding his leg back. Mr. Park blinks, surprised to find you so suddenly in front of him. You offer him a tight smile. “He’s with me.”

“Oh! Ms. L/N, I apologize. He didn’t have a collar, so I assumed he was a stray.” The statement pricks at you, but you know he means nothing by it, so you try to stamp down your irritation. “It’s rare but we do occasionally have them come in in the hope someone will take them in.” He clucks his tongue against his teeth. “Such a shame really.”

You feel Jeongguk’s hand fist in the fabric of your sweatshirt. He wants to go. You nod emphatically at what Mr. Park says, already heading back to the elevators. “Yeah, totally,” you agree, shuffling the rabbit hybrid in front of you and putting some distance between him and the elderly man. “Well, have a good morning! I’ll see you later!”

“Ms. L/N, I actually need to speak with you-”

You wave him off and duck into the elevator Seokjin had called in your brief absence. “We’ll talk later!” You tell him, pressing the close door buttons as quickly as you can and willing them to shut before he can catch up.

“But it’s about your-!”

The doors click shut and you’re blessed with silence. You exhale in a short puff, press the button for the penthouse and slump against the cool metal wall, finally letting yourself relax for a moment. The elevator starts rolling and Jeongguk flinches beside you. He duck his head like he’s going to crouch down- but he stops himself, grips the railing instead.

“It’s okay,” You soothe. “It’s just-”

“I’m fine,” he insists, forcing himself to stand up straight and release the death grip he has on your sweatshirt. “I’m fine; my time’s up.”

It’s just like he’d said in the car. Just ‘til we get there, let me be weak.

The rest of the elevator ride passes in silence outside of the automated bell dinging as you pass each new floor and Seokjin panting quietly. He’s in a bad way. He’ll need another dose of pain meds soon. You arrive on the top floor, punching in the key code and pull the door open. “Let me get Seokjin settled, Jeongguk and I-” You run directly into someone.

Their arms wrap around you, covered in a brown cable knit sweater. It’s soft and they smell of vanilla. They press their cheek against the top of your head and exhale, a little rumble kicking up in their chest. “You’re back.” Taehyung.

“Hey, buddy.” You pat him on the back gently and peer around him. Yoongi and Jimin are both sprawled on the couch, legs kicked out so there isn’t room for anyone else to join them. Namjoon is sitting on the stairs shooting daggers at the back of Yoongi’s head and his arms crossed over his chest.Hoseok is lingering in the no man’s land between the living room and kitchen looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. The atmosphere is tense to say the least.

Taehyung dips his head down. “I got them, like you said,” he whispers, lips brushing against the tip of your ear and his breath warm. You have fight off a little shiver, but if he notices it, he doesn’t react. “I don’t think Hyung and Jiminie like the others very much.”

You give a little nod of acknowledgement. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all just need to get to know each other a little better.”

Seokjin hobbles through the door, past the tiger hybrid and drops himself onto a stool on the kitchen with a heavy exhale. “Well, I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes at most before these meds catch a second wind, so let’s get this over with.” He’s doing his best to sound cavalier but he’s pallid. You don’t miss the thin sheen of cold sweat on his face and neck. “Seokjin. Twenty-eight. Red stag.”

All the other hybrids are staring at him in a mix of confusion, irritation and, in some cases, open dislike. It seems like they don’t know what to make of him. It’s Yoongi who speaks first. “If you’re a stag,” he drawls and you already feel dread welling up in you at what you know is going to follow. “Where are your antlers?”

Seokjin fixes him with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only put them on for special occasions.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands together trying to diffuse the tension you can feel building. “New house rule: let’s not ask each other about injuries past or present unless we’re asking how to help.” Yoongi looks miffed, but he settles. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have expected him to say something snarky back to you. He’s trying not to push his luck after last night, you think. “Yoongi, why don’t you go next?”

His ears flick in annoyance, but he does as you ask. “I’m Yoongi, I’m twenty-seven and I’m a bobcat-”

“I’m Jimin,” his junior pipes up before he’s hardly had time to finish. “I’m an amur leopard and I came here with Yoongi-hyung and Tae. We’ve been with Y/N the longest.” He says it like it’s an important piece of information for everyone to know.

Beside you, Taehyung lifts one hand, palm up. “Hi,” he says calmly. “I’m Taehyung. I like the color purple.” Everyone watches him to see what else he’s going to say, but the tiger hybrid is finished. You give him a little nudge with your shoulder.

“Tell them how old you are and what your hybrid is,” you suggest.

“Oh,” he lifts his eyebrows like the thought genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m twenty-four and I’m a tiger.” Suddenly remembering something, he tilts his head forward in a little bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” A sour look takes over Yoongi’s face and Jimin rolls his eyes, gestures for the youngest of their group to come sit beside him.

Hoseok is the next one to pipe up. “I’m Hoseok!” He seems to perk up a little when you turn your eyes to him, his docked tail giving as much of a wag as it’s able. “I’m a Doberman, I’m twenty-six and Joonie and I came from the same pla-”

“My name is Namjoon.” The wolfdog cuts off the other canine with a growl. All the wind goes out of Hoseok’s sails and you don’t miss the way Seokjin freezes up at the dark sound, suddenly alert. You weren’t sure if prey hybrids still avoided predator hybrids like their animal counterparts did, but you’d need to learn and fast. Namjoon leans back on the stairs, his jaw clenched. “I’m the same age as him-” he jerks his head at the Doberman hybrid. “-so I guess I’m twenty-six too.” He makes no mention of his hybrid and you don’t press. You don’t know how sensitive a subject it is for him yet, but you don’t want to find out the hard way.

Hoseok looks back at you and cocks his head to the side, his gaze fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”

Five pairs of eyes follow his. You turn around. Outside the apartment, still in the corridor, is Jeongguk, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide as he surveys the mixed bag of hybrids spread out in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Do you wanna come in?”

His gaze flicks from you, to the cats, then to Hoseok and finally to Namjoon. It’s only when he sees the wolfdog hybrid that he moves from the wall. He takes halting, jittery steps one after the other until he’s planted by your side, his eyes on his bare feet. Every move he makes makes it look like he’s fighting against his own body, forcing himself to tamp down his instinct and move.

“Can you introduce yourself?” You ask him softly. “Or do you want me to?”

His good hand clenches into a fist and forces himself to look up. He meets each of the other hybrid’s eyes evenly. “My name is Jeongguk.” When he speaks, there’s no shake in his voice. “I’m twenty-three years old. I came from the same place as Seokjin but we don’t know each other that well. I’m a Flemish Giant Rabbit.” So that was why he was so big. You’d never seen a Flemish Giant in real life, but you’d happened across the odd youtube video of them once or twice in your suggestions. They were huge.

With introductions out of the way, you feel a little tension melt out of your shoulders. That was the biggest hurdle. Maybe now that they all at least knew each other, they’d be a little more open to being around each other. You let out a little exhale. “And I’m Y/N. I’m also twenty-three and this is my uncle’s apartment. He’s the only that bought all of you but I only found out you were coming a little over a week ago, so please forgive me for being unprepared.” You rub your palms against your eyes, trying to combat the exhaustion you can feel crawling over you. “I don’t know that much about hybrids, but I’m trying to learn. A lot of things you’re gonna have to help me with. I’m not expecting you guys to be pets or best friends or anything, but if we could all try to get along I’d appreciate it.” You offer all seven them a weary smile. “Thanks for getting up early to do this, guys, I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, literally anything, please don’t be scared to ask-”

“Um, Y/N?” Hoseok is looking at you like he’s been dying to say something for the past five minutes. You turn your attention to him and squint as you try to focus on what he’s saying. “I did a sweep of the apartment earlier-” That was concerning. You make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to do security sweeps anymore. “-and there’s only four bedrooms.”

You blink at him in confusion.

“There’s eight of us.”

Oh. Oh. You drag your hands down over your face. You hadn’t accounted for lack of space being an issue. When you first moved in, Oliver’s penthouse seemed like it went on forever. “Okay,” you start, crunching some quick numbers. “Some of us are gonna have to double up.” There’s a disgruntled mrow from the couch and without looking, you know it’s Jimin. “Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung are already sharing so they’re exempt, but Seokjin needs his own room- at least until he recovers.”

“That’s fine by me,” the stag chimes in. “But that leaves Jeongguk without a-”

“Hyung, can I stay with you?” The room goes quiet.

“Seokjin really needs his own room-” You pull your face out of your hands to address the rabbit hybrid, but he isn’t looking at the stag. His eyes are fixed on Namjoon who’s looking at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. The wolfdog looks from the rabbit to you.

“I saw a camp bed out in the greenhouse while you were showing us around last night.” He says, standing to go. “I’ll sleep out there.”

“Namjoon, you don’t have to sleep outside-”

“I like it out there.” He calls back over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “I can see the sky.” Then he’s gone and the six of you are left.

“Well,” Jimin purrs, rising and crossing the living room to you. “Best of luck.” He rubs his cheek against yours, folding you into a loose hug. You think he’s about to pull away, but he whispers in your ear, “If you want to share with us, you know where we sleep.” And then he’s gone, sauntering up the stairs with Taehyung and Yoongi in tow. The bobcat tosses a look at you, but you look away quickly, missing the way his ears sage when you do.

Now, the only ones left are you, Jeongguk, Hoseok and Seokjin who’s rapidly fading. “I’ll take the couch,” you volunteer. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but right now, the stark white cushions look like heaven to your sleep-deprived mind. “Seokjin can have my room-”

“He can have mine,” Hoseok interjects. “And, if it’s okay, could I stay with you?” There’s a light whine on the end of his words and you don’t miss the way his ears prick up in anticipation of your answer. “It’s what I wanted to ask you earlier.”

Oh. When Jimin interrupted him, that’s what he’d been trying to say: he wanted to sleep in your room to be closer to you. To protect you.

“Yeah,” you agree easily. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Sharing beds wasn’t a big deal for you. You’d grown up in a flat with your mom and had shared a bed with her til she’d been taken from you. Then in foster homes with too many kids and not enough resources, you’d had to double- and sometimes even triple- up. It was a matter of convenience and space.

Hoseok’s tail gives a little wag and he nods, happy with your decision.

“Great!” Seokjin cheers weakly. “Now can someone please help me lie down.”

It’s Hoseok that helps the stag hybrid up the stairs and into bed. He’s stronger than you and taller, so it only makes sense. You show Jeongguk to his new room and stay with him for a few minutes while he feels it out, making sure it’s safe. It’s only once he’s sequestered himself under the covers and dismissed you that you leave, closing the door quietly behind you as the rabbit hybrid settles down for some much needed sleep. You turn to head back for the stairs- but you find Yoongi at the other end of the corridor, staring you down. You stare back. He swallows.

“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice quieter than you ever remember hearing it.

You give a little nod. “Yeah,” you assent. “We need to.”

He meets you halfway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers and his gaze anywhere but on your face. The seconds stretch out and you exhale, closing your eyes. “Yoongi, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interjects. “About what happened in the elevator. It was disrespectful and immature. I won’t do it again.”

You balk at him. You’d honestly expected him to tell you you were being childish for reacting so strongly to it when you’d told him he could mark you whenever he was ready. But he hadn’t. He shuffles back a few steps, his head still low.

“Well, that was all I wanted to say to you, so-”

“Do you understand?” You ask him. He stops short. “Do you understand why I was upset?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you see a little furrow between his gray eyebrows. “Because I marked you.”

“No,” you insist, emphatically. “I was upset because it didn’t feel like you were doing it for me.” He does look up at you then, yellow eyes unreadable. “It didn’t feel like you were marking me because we’re friends or you wanted me to be a part of your group. It felt like you were doing it to show off in front of Namjoon and Hoseok.” You swallow. “And that hurt my feelings.” It feels good to say. It feels good to talk about.

He lets out a little chirp of distress. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. “I just-” He rakes a hand back through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck, I just felt like if I didn’t do something right then you’d get bored of me and send me away. I thought you’d replace me with them.”

Your heart twists. You know the feeling more intimately than you’d like to admit. You reach out, hesitantly and squeeze Yoongi’s arm. “Yoongi, I’m not gonna send you away. Ever. It’s important to me that you know that. Unless you wanna go, you can stay. There’s room enough for all of you.”

“No there’s not, that’s why we’re sharing rooms,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and let out a little chuckle. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The corner of his mouth curls up at the playful insult. After a moment, he speaks. “I don’t, for the record,” he says. “Wanna go, I mean.” He stares down into your face, yellow eyes intense. The seconds drag on and something between the two of you grows tight. He leans down, face nuzzling the soft spot between your ear and your jaw. He huffs. “Bunny scented you,” he mutters, tail flicking in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re relieved.

“He was afraid in the car,” you answer softly. “I think it helped.” Your hands slip from his arms around his back and he purrs. It’s the first time you’ve heard him make that sound. It sends warm vibrations through your whole body and you giggle. Yoongi smiles against your skin and your heart leaps. He’s never smiled around you before. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. You know it’s there. “Do you want to try again?”

Yoongi exhales, his breath warm on your neck. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head to the side for him. “You can.”

This time is different, you can feel that from the onset. His fingers wrap gently around your hips and he nuzzles into your skin. He nips lightly at the skin below your ear, the corner of your jaw, all down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where it joins your shoulder. He hums, wraps his arms around you fully and pulls you flush against the hard line of his body. Your breath hatches and you can practically hear your heart thudding traitorously in your chest.

It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself as he laves his rough tongue against your feverish skin. It’s not a big deal; marking isn’t sexual. This isn’t a big deal, there’s no need to be nervous or get- the points of his teeth scrape over the mark before he laps at again and you have to bite back a whimper. Your knees feel a little weak- that is, until Yoongi slots his thigh between them, keeping you up while he finishes his work. Your hands ball up into fists in the fabric of his t shirt and you grit your teeth together with the effort of keeping quiet. He pulls off your neck with a wet pop and you swear you’re imagining it when he presses a final kiss to his mark. He noses your ear, still purring and you think he’s gonna mark you more- but then his warmth is gone and his standing before you, eyes a little hazier but no worse for wear.

He reaches up and flicks you in the forehead. You grumble at him, covering the spot up with your hands before he can do it again. A lazy smirk spreads out on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he drawls. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading back to his shared bedroom. “Don’t wipe this one off this time, okay?”

You nod mutely after him as he disappears, your hand cupping your mark. “What was that?” You wonder. You descend the stairs in a daze, your mind whirling. None of your research had told you creating a mark would be like that. You’d thought it was a quick thing and Yoongi had just been showboating for the canines. Even in the videos you watched, the hybrid had leaned in close to the human, given then a few quick swipes with their tongue and moved on. Then again, those hybrids had all been domesticated dog or cat breeds. “Are exotics different?” You muse, turning the handle to your bedroom- and promptly tripping over someone.

This time, you don’t go all the way down. You make it halfway before Hoseok catches you. “Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N!” The dog hybrid whines, fussing over you as he sets you back to rights. “I’ll do better about staying out of your way, I promise-”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, trying to stop him from fretting. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” You survey the floor of your bedroom. It seemed like in his security sweep earlier, Hoseok had found the linen cabinet and made use of the spare blankets. His pillow and a comforter are set up in a little pallet on the floor in front of your door. It seems he’d been putting the final touches on it when you’d stumbled over him. “Hoseok…” you start slowly. The Doberman looks at you, ears pricked up. “Hoseok, I wasn’t expecting you to sleep on the floor.”

He cocks his head to the side, doglike even in his confusion. “Then where…?”

“The bed is big enough,” you say, gesturing to the queen sized bed dominating the center of the room. “I don’t mind sharing if you’re comfortable with it.”

His adam’s apple bob’s in his throat as he swallows, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it.”

You nod and pat him on the shoulder, passing him as you head to bed. “Come on, then.” You collapse onto your bed face-first and slip back under the covers with a groan. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap before I’ve gotta get up and deal with stuff…”

The room is quiet, but somewhere in it, you can hear Hoseok shuffling around. “Maybe I should check to make sure everything is safe one more time?”

You exhale, your eyes slipping shut. “Hoseok…”

“Did you lock the front door after you came in? I think the rabbit...Jeongguk was the last one in? I don’t remember him locking-”

“Hope, bed. Now.” He doesn’t say anything else, but a few seconds later, you feel the far side of the bed dip with his weight. You sigh as he shifts to get under the blankets and you snuggle down further into your pillow. “Sleep well, Hobi.”

He mumbles something under his breath about security being a serious issue, but you don’t catch it. You’re already halfway to dreamland.

#thebtswritersclub #hybridbtsnetwork #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n #hybrid!bts #ot7 x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #jhope x reader #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years

Text

You’re the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I’m singing (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings X Fem!Reader

Summary: Luke needs help writing a song, luckily you’re there to help him. You just hope your feelings for him won’t interfere in the writing process.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst if you blink. The reader uses she/her pronouns. Language, invasion of privacy, unprotected sex (don’t do it guys) oral female reciving. Maybe some grammatical errors (English it’s not my first language, sorry)

Word count: 4.5k

Author’s Note: Hello ✨ I’ve been working with this Luke piece since August and I finally stop procrastinating in order to finish it 🎉 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are always welcome and encouraged! I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻

My materialist // Wanna be on my tag list?

He did it.

After almost two weeks of not getting anything good out of his head Luke finally beat the writer’s block.

He jumped out of his seat in the island kitchen and ran towards his music room with a very excited Petunia walking behind him with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Luke grabbed his notebook and started writing as soon as his ass hit the cushions of the little sofa he had there, getting already lost in the sound.

His eyes filled with joy as he wrote down the melody, muttering some words to go along with it and bobbing his head as the rhythm got better and better. He couldn’t feel prouder.

It wasn’t like him to have such a strong writer‘s block, whenever it happened his band mates were there to help him get through it. However, this time they weren’t here, they were still at the studio where he was supposed to be.

It was an unanimous decision, they all new Luke wasn’t at his best, always getting frustrated and closing himself up to others, refusing any help until he could come up with something on his own, so they recommended him to rest at home for a couple days before he totally burns out and, reluctantly, he agreed.

But all of that self pity ended now that he got a melody going on and a few lyrics written down. To say that he was in cloud nine was an understatement.

A few moments later his phone started ringing. He was doing so well that he didn’t think to answer it until he saw your name pop up.

“Leech!” He said with a smile once he picked up.

You scrunch your nose at the old nickname. You have known the man for at least 19 years and he still refuses to let go of the fact that you didn’t want to be his friend at the beginning because someone told you boys had leeches hidden in their pockets.

But, alas, you knew the nickname was not going anywhere so you decided to ignore it just this time “Hello, Hems!”

“I’m so glad you called! Just in time, actually” He said cheerfully.

“Well someone sounds happy for a change” You chuckled “What’s gotten you so amicable today, love?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, you need to come in order to know what it is” Luke teased, not needing to see your face to know that you were rolling your eyes at him.

You chuckled again “Good thing I’m on my way then with some pizza. I’ll be there in approximately one Jonas Brothers’ song”

He laughed “You’re too good to me”

You sighed when he ended the call just a few seconds later “Only if you knew…”

You hated the cliche of falling for your best friend, but in your defense: your best friend was Luke Hemings, how could you not?

Once “Lovebug” ended you found yourself parking in his driveway. You shook your head at the irony of it all as you grabbed the pizza box and headed to the door. You were about to knock when suddenly he opened the door, flashing you one of his signature smiles that made your tummy feel weird.

“Were you waiting by the door?” You asked as you extended your arm to give him a side hug, which he gladly took and hugged you back, bringing you even closer to him. You just hoped he couldn’t feel the loud beatings of your heart.

“By the window, actually” Luke laughed as he took the pizza box from you and walked to the kitchen, placing it on top of the counter “I just can’t wait to show you what I got!”

You could see how excited he was, the gleam in his eyes was everlasting as he talked and his smile reached his eyes with ease, making little wrinkles appear by the sides of them. You smiled back at him and nodded, letting him lead the way.

He quickly took your hand, almost running as he guided you to his mini studio. You sat on his sofa, petting Petunia as he accommodated himself and his guitar.

“I figured it out!” Luke said with pride in his eyes “I conquered the block!”

“Luke that’s amazing!” You knew he was struggling a lot lately, that was one of the main reasons you checked up on him more often this past few weeks “Omg, I can’t wait to hear it!”

Luke nodded and wasted no time in starting playing his new song.

“I thought I had it all, thought I let you go. But truth be told, I’m just a fool in a one man show”

You listened carefully to what he was saying, loving the lyrics already before you started noticing something weird in the melody… there was something familiar in it, but you couldn’t pinpoint what.

“The secrets I held. The lies I told myself. All were worth it cause it meant I get to see your face”

Once the chorus started, you knew where you’ve heard this before.

Luke was staring at you the whole time since he started singing, wanting nothing more than his best friend’s approval, but was met with your concerned face as he continued.

“I never give you away, cause I’ve already made that mistake. If-“ He stopped completely when he saw the way you were looking at him “You hate it.”

“What?” You asked, taken by surprise by his hurt face.

“You can tell me if it’s bad, you know? I won’t get mad or anything but-“

You cut him off, shaking your head as you place your hand on his thigh “No, Luke. It’s not that at all”

“Then what, Y/N?” He said, putting his guitar away from him “Cause you don’t give me that look unless you’re feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I know the lyrics need arrangements and-“

“Luke!” You interrupted his rambling one again, knowing how he gets when he’s flustered “The lyrics are fine! Everything is fine! I really liked that last line you sang. But…”

“But?”

You sighed “Let me show you something”

You took your phone out of your bag and started searching through your songs until you found what you were looking for “Please, don’t be mad” You begged with a sigh as you pressed play on one of Taylor Swift’s songs.

Luke didn’t understand what you were talking about until he heard the first few chords of the song. His eyes winded as plates as he listened to the melody he swore he just invented out of the blue, a deep disappointment came across him at the realization he just repeated a melody that someone else already created.

You paused the song when you noticed his expression change all of the sudden. The gleam in his eyes completely disappeared as a dark gloom clouded his blue irises “Luke?” You asked, but the tall blonde was already getting up and started walking out of the studio “Luke!”

You followed him into the hall, where you could catch a glimpse of him tugging on his curls and cursing to himself. You called his name again with no avail, he wasn’t listening as he drowned in self pity and embarrassment.

“I should’ve known!” He said loudly this time “Fuck! It was too good to be true”

“It’s okay, Lu-“ You tried, but he quickly turned around and cut you off.

“It’s not okay, Y/N!” He yelled, making you take a step back. It wasn’t like him to get so angry to the point of yelling, but you can’t say that you don’t understand his frustration “When is plagiarism ever okay?! I’m such a fucking idiot”

“Hey, no, no, no, no, no” You interrupted, standing on your tiptoes to grab him by his shoulders and make him look at you “You won’t talk about my best friend like that”

Luke looked away, not wanting to meet your eyes at this moment. So you took matters into your own hands, literally, and placed your palms on his cheeks, softly squeezing them together and forcing him to look at you “The song is great” You said “Yes, the melodies are similar but you can work on that. You’re Luke Hemmings for crying out loud!”

He placed his hands over yours and pushed them away in a soft movement, not letting go of you as he did “Well, Luke Hemmings can’t write a song even if his life depended on it” He sighed, more calmed now “I don’t know what to do! I don’t even know if there is something I could do”

You thought for a second “Maybe not,” You said “But there might be something we could do”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows “Huh?”

“Yeah,” You nodded “I know I basically know nothing about melodies and composing a song. But I know a lot about poems and writings!” You said with a smile “I also know that you’ve been having a rough time lately and I just want to help in every way I can. I hate to see you like this, Luke. Let me help you?”

He stared at you and immediately knew that he couldn’t say no to your pleasing eyes. The fact that you wanted to help him took him by surprise, but he should’ve known, you have the biggest heart on earth and he knew he could count on you, always. Hell, you even moved to another continent to support him and his friends. You were always there for him, always taking care of him while also making fun of him and just being the best friend there is. And now you wanted to help him get over his writer's block? He could kiss you right now!

“Woah, slow down tiger” You laughed “We need to make a song first”

Did he say that out loud? Oh shit.

“I- just. Um-“ He rambled, trying to hide the pink that colored his cheeks “Thank you”

You just nodded and walked towards the kitchen, part of it because you were still hungry, but in reality it was to hide the way you couldn’t stop smiling.

“C’mon, Hems! Time to write a song”

You have seriously underestimated the whole writing and composing process of a song. How could Taylor Swift make it look so easy?!

It’s been almost a week and you have been staying with Luke 24/7 locked inside his little studio as you revise song idea after song idea, going back and towards without really going anywhere and only getting out to walk Petunia, eat and go to the bathroom. Once one of you gets too tired you decide to take a nap in Luke's bedroom like you always do since you were kids. None of this served as much help to calm down your feelings towards the tall Australian. In fact, you are almost sure they grew stronger than before.

You couldn’t help but get lost in him. Every subtle movement he makes; how he licks his lips and bites them every time he is concentrating on something; how his fingers move so smoothly on the guitar or the piano; how he hums to himself in that melodic voice that gives you chills everytime you listen to it… But there is also the way his eyes linger on you for more than a second; how he lays his head on your shoulder and starts playing with your hand; how he cuddles with you at night and always gives you one kiss on the cheek every morning and every night. He’s got you hooked and he doesn’t even know it.

“What do you think of this, little leech?” The oblivious man called, making you break away from your thoughts as he played some notes on the piano.

It was a sweet melody, melancholic but comforting.

“So we are settled that it’s going to be a balad?” You ask once he's done.

He pressed his lips together in a fine line “Not sure, feels like it’s missing something”

“Almost like a breakdown of other instruments, right?” You ask and he smiles.

“It’s almost like you can read my mind, love”

You smiled, hiding your blushed cheeks from his sight as your gaze drifted back to your little notebook of poems. And, almost without noticing, you start humming.

“Mmmh, Hope and I pray, darling that you will stay… butterfly lies..”

“Take them away” Luke finishes for you. He slowly gets up and sits right next to you, placing his head on your shoulders as you close your book “You’re really good with this,” He said, interlocking his fingers with yours “Why won’t you let me see more of your writings?”

He lifted his other hand to try to snatch the book out of your hands, but you were faster and put it out of his reach “Cause! It’s private” You laughed “Don’t want you to laugh at me or something”

“I could never laugh at you,” He said softly.

You turn your head to the side and almost choke on air as you notice his proximity, making you hyper aware of his breath on your lips and the way he was looking into your eyes, almost like if he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words to do it.

“Luke, I-“ You said in a whisper, his eyes fixed on your lips as he hummed “I- I think I’m a little bit hungry…” You lied, not knowing exactly what to do.

Luke just looked at you and nodded, not hiding his disappointment as he separated himself a little bit so you could both head out to the kitchen. Once there, he went to the stereo and connected his phone so you could have a more relaxing atmosphere.

You started making dinner, nothing too elaborate but complicated enough so you could focus on that rather than what just happened between you two. You knew you were just friends to him, so this new change in his demeanor was surprising and confusing to say the least.

Suddenly, your favorite song started playing. It was an old jazz song that reminded you of home and soon enough you found yourself humming along.

Luke stared at you as you prepared the meal, completely awestruck as he heard you sing softly along the lyrics. He smiled to himself and walked up to you, offering you his hand before asking: “Dance with me?”

You chuckled as you took his hand and let him guide you to the living room. He placed his hand on your lower back as he held your palm with the other one. You placed your free hand on his shoulder and let him guide you through the melody, already feeling the beating of your heart go ten times faster than it should.

You softly placed your head on his chest, relaxing as you felt the vibrations of his soft voice singing along as you slowly danced together.

“I like this” He murmured while his hand caressed your back and his chin rested on your head, placing a little kiss to it.

“Me too”

You got out of the shower and put on one of Luke’s shirts, ready to get on the bed and let all your thoughts rest for the day as you drift to sleep. You sighed as you looked in the mirror and tried to calm your feelings down, hoping that this time your heart will listen.

You headed to Luke’s room, wanting nothing more than to lay down and relax. But you never expected to see what you saw.

When Luke noticed that you had came into the room he quickly closed your notebook and placed it on your side of the bed, hoping that you didn’t realize what he was doing.

“Luke, what the fuck!?” You asked in an angry tone as you walked to the bed and grabbed your notebook in your hands “I told you this was private! How could you betray my trust like that?!”

Luke looked terrified, he never liked you angry, especially if you were angry at him. He tried to speak, but you quickly turned around and started grabbing all your things and put it in the bag you brought to stay over.

“Wha-What are you doing?” He asked confused.

“I’m going home” You said in a huff, turning around to put on your leggings and shoes.

“What?!” Luke jumped from his side of the bed and almost ran to you “Y/N, please. I’m sorry! I didn’t know it meant that much to you!” You ignored him “Please don’t go! It was a mistake, I’m sorry!”

You glared at him “I asked you not to do it! God, Luke! This is a total invasion of my privacy. Best friends don’t do that to each other!”

You tried to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your arm and made you stop “Well best friends tell each other everything, don’t you think?!” Now he seemed angry as well.

“What haven’t I told you?!”

Luke rolled his eyes, letting go of your arm “Uh, I don’t know! Maybe the fact that you are in love with someone and you didn’t tell me?!”

You were taken aback by his words, furrowing your brows in confusion. He took your silence as a sign to continue.

“The poems, the writings you have there… They are beautiful and heartbreaking, Y/N” He explained, much more calmed “All those words are impossible to write unless you feel what you are writing. The message is right there, clear as water and you didn’t want me to read it. Why?”

His blue eyes seemed like a storm when he looked at you. You could tell he was hurting from all of this, couldn’t he tell who those writings are for?

“Why do you think? You blabbering idiot?” You asked softly, eyes meeting the floor, hoping he got the message.

Luke’s whole demeanor softened and he took in your words. His heart was beating fast as he took two steps to be completely in front of you.

He cupped your cheeks into his hands and made you look at him, telling you everything you need to know with just one look.

“Luke-“ He didn’t have you time to respond as he captured your lips with his, making you drop your stuff to the ground as you started kissing him back.

You placed your hands on the back of his head, softly caressing his curls as he deepened the kiss, parting your lips so he could explore your mouth as he wished for so many years now and making you let out a soft moan as he did so.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this” He said, kissing you once again “I thought I was being too obvious”

You chuckled “Well, not obvious enough, Hemmings” You pecked his lips one more time.

He smiled into the kiss as he let his hands wander down your back, softly squeezing your ass as he started walking you towards the bed, letting you fall delicately as he hovered over you.

You whimpered as you felt his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and leaving marks wherever he went.

“Luke, what-?” You moaned, tangling your fingers around his curls and pulling him up to meet your gaze “What does this mean for us? What does this make us?”

Without wasting a breath he said confidently “I want to make you mine, love. If you let me, would you be mine? And I’ll be yours”

You looked at him in the eyes and you swore you’d never fallen harder than this.

You nodded “I was always yours, my love”

Luke smiled as he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, bringing your lips together in a kiss filled with love, passion and need. All that you guys ever wanted from each other.

You could feel his other hand wandering around under your/his shirt, softly caressing your breast and making you moan.

“Can I take this off, love?” He asked, playing with the hem of your shirt.

You nodded and wasted no time in getting rid of the fabric, throwing it somewhere around the room before his lips started marking his way down your neck again, this time with hunger as he trailed down from your throat to your breast, kissing one of them as his hand massaged the other, switching from time to time so none of them gets neglected for long.

Your soft moans and whimpers were music to his ears as he felt his erection growing harder with every little breath that came over your mouth. You could feel his erection through his pants, making you groan as you moved your hips to get some kind of friction where you needed it the most.

Luke noticed your little desperate movements and smirked as he let his hand travel down your stomach, ghosting over your sensitive bund over your clothes.

“Is this okay?” He asked when his fingers started pulling down the waistband of your leggings and panties.

“Yes,” You whimpered “Yes, Luke. Please”

You lifted your hips to help him take off your clothes completely, leaving you naked under him.

Luke sucked on a breath and moaned once he got a glimpse of your naked body “So perfect” He whispered, kissing your forehead “So beautiful” He kissed your lips, only to continue kissing down on your body till he reached your aching pussy “So wet for me, my love” He moaned before placing a kiss on your clit, making you thrust your hips at the sudden touch.

He grabbed your hips and pin them down as he started fucking into you with his tongue. Sucking and licking at all the right spots in a rhythm that made you see stars.

You grabbed onto his curls and brought him closer to you. Moaning his name over and over again “Luke,” You pant “I need more, Luke. Please”

Luke got the message as he added a finger to his ministrations, pumping in and out of your entrance “Is this good, Y/N?” But his question was answered by a sinful moan of yours “Talk to me, love” He said, adding another finger.

“Fuck! So good, Luke” You moaned, letting your head fall on the soft pillow “So. Fucking. Good”

He continued to pump his fingers into you at a fast pace while his mouth was locked on your clit, sucking and licking it with delight like it was his favorite meal. Groaning as he felt you clench around his digits when he hit one special spot inside you “Are you close, beautiful?”

You whimpered and nodded in return, not being able to form a coherent sentence at this moment of pure ecstasy.

“Cum for me, my love” He said, kissing the inside of your thigh and speeding his pace “Cum all over my fingers” And so you did.

Luke groaned as he felt your juices drip past his fingers and onto the mattress, swearing that he’s never seen such a prettier sight than your face right now.

You whined as he pulled his digits out of you, but the tight knot in your belly grew as you heard him pulling out his pants and sliding back between your legs.

His face was mere inches from yours once he settled back on the bed and on top of you. You smiled.

“Hi” You said, trying to catch your breath after your first orgasm.

“Hey” He smiled, kissing your forehead and pressing his against yours “Are you sure you want this?” He asked “Its okay if you don’t and we can stop whenever you-“

You shut him off with a kiss “I want this” You said in a whisper “I want you”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly he started sliding into you, making you both moan because of the stretch.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping when he saw your face wincing in pain.

You nodded “So big, need a minute” You said. Luke understood and started pepper kissing your face, not leaving any space untouched until you gave him the go-to to keep going.

Luke groaned as he bottom down, giving you a minute to get used to his length. You were moaning his name as you felt him deep inside you, quickly replacing the pain with pleasure.

“Move. Please, Luke” You begged.

He started moving his hips at a slow pace, not wanting to hurt you if he went too hard too fast. It was only when you wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him closer to you that he got the message.

“Faster, fuck. Please, go faster!” You moaned into his ear. Every little sound you made going straight to his cock, quickening the pace as he started fucking you fast and rough.

Your moans became higher pitch as you got closer and closer to your climax. Your nails ran down his back, leaving red trails for you to trace later.

“Fuck, Y/N” Luke groaned “I’m so close, love”

His hips started thrusting relentlessly, chasing his climax as well as yours, making the bed hit the wall with every thrust of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum” You moaned with every move of his hip “I’m gonna cum, Luke. Oh god”

You let out a pornographic moan as you felt your walls clench around his cock, letting go all over him as you tried to catch your breath in all your euphoria.

Soon enough you felt Luke’s thrusts become sloppy and harder, twitching inside you as he painted your walls with his release as he moaned your name over and over again.

He grabbed your cheek and pulled your face closer to him so you could kiss as you ride down your highs, whispering sweet praises to each other as he pulled out of you and cuddled you close.

“That was…”

“I know”

You both laughed softly as Luke kissed your cheek and got up to bring a warm cloth to clean you up and also grabbing a shirt so you could sleep more comfortably. He laid down beside you and pulled you closer to him, kissing the shell of your ear until you both drifted to sleep.

You woke up a couple of hours later, feeling the other side of the bed cold as ice. You looked for Luke around the room but were unable to find him. The wheels in your head started turning as you looked around the room, that’s when you heard the soft sound of the piano playing in the background.

With a shake of your head you got up and started making your way to the grand piano he had in his living room and, sure enough, Luke was sitting there writing the song.

“Inspiration struck?” You asked, making him jump at the sound of your voice.

He visibly relaxed as he saw you walk up to him in nothing but his shirt “Needed to write it down” He said, kissing your lips as you sat next to him.

You looked at the music sheets he got scattered around “You almost finished? How?”

“Turns out I just needed my muse by my side. Admitting my love for her was the only thing I needed to finally get everything right again”

You blushed at his words and pulled him closer for another kiss “Will you sing it to me?” He nodded.

“Lover of mine..”

Tag: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof

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cozyenigma · 4 years

Text

Surrender Unto Sleep

(should I be asleep right now? Yes. Am I going to make this everyone else’s problem? .... also yes. Have this bit that made one of my friends cry!)

Pairing- Damien/Reader

Word Count- 1302

Request?- Nope!

Summary- After too many restless nights after whatever had happened in that mansion, you get a visitor of sorts. What was a little dream of wish fulfillment for you was one last farewell for another.

Tag List- @cookielover0001010 , @swag-droid

The world that you found yourself in was nothing. In literally every sense of the word, this place was empty like you hadn't thought possible before. There was no distinction between the ground and the sky. No light, no smell, and no sound reached you. The only thing that stood out against the inky blackness around you was your own body, which you were relieved to find that you still had.

But that was short lived. Soon your thoughts drifted to how you got here. Where was here anyway? The last thing you remembered was that you'd gone to bed and then...

Your name being called out behind you might as well have been shouted, it was that quiet before. You whirled around and froze.

There he was.

Standing there, looking just like he did when you last saw him just before that fateful poker night, was Damien. Well, he looked a little different. You might've described him as glowing in the past but now he was literally glowing. A strange blue halo seemed to radiate off him. It was soft but cut through the gloom like a beacon.

He repeated your name, looking like he was ready to faint. In the next instant he was closing the distance. You found that the sensation of being touched still held here as he pulled you into a tight embrace. This was familiar. You'd missed this.

After he was elected mayor Damien became more aware of his public image. At times maybe too aware, you'd thought before. You only got to enjoy this kind of contact in private. Casual hugs took just a bit longer behind closed doors when no one was looking.

But this was a bit different. This time, when Damien pulled back he quickly cupped your cheeks and moved onto kissing you. This was entirely new.

"Dames, what-" you gasped as soon as you pulled back only for him to chase after you with another kiss. It was fervent and entirely unlike the Damien you knew.

At times you wished one of you had taken the leap, sure. More so now after the fact. But it was too much too soon back then and far too late now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Damien, hey," you managed to break him out of his mantra. Your heart lurched at the shine of tears in his eyes. "What's the matter?"

He swallowed roughly and didn't respond immediately. "Nothing. Nothing at all." When he tried to smile, to reassure you, it wobbled. "I- I just wanted to see you, my dear."

The hesitation was enough to tip you off though. "Don't brush this off, you're acting strange Damien, tell me what's wrong."

That inexplicably got a laugh out of him. It was a half strangled thing and he shook his head.

"I realize I've probably been too forward but," he sighed, "there's no one here but us and I don't think I'll get the chance again. Forgive me but I hardly regret it."

It was then you realized what this was. You'd gone to bed like usual. Alone like usual. The grief had addled your mind and this was a result: a bittersweet little dream of wish fulfillment filled with what ifs.

Your only response was a shaky exhale. An odd dream though it was, you didn't want it to end. Not yet.

"That hardly explains the tears." When you went to wipe them away, Damien caught your hand.

His lips quirked up into a smile, small but genuine all the same. "Always getting to the root of it, aren't you? Please don't worry for me. I'll... It's over and done with now." He searched your face. "You need to save the concern for yourself, darling."

"I'm not the one crying here, Dames," you said, knowing full well your own tears weren't far behind.

Damien shook his head, smoothing a thumb over your cheek. "Have you been sleeping alright? You're starting to remind me of my university days. All those late nights tend to take a toll, you know."

Feeling more emboldened than you would in the waking world, you answer honestly. "No, no I haven't. Not with you gone at least."

A mystery, the papers were calling it. No one knew what had happened in that mansion and, if the police investigations were anything to go by, no one ever would. Damien was just another high profile casualty. His face had been splashed across every front page in the state, unmoving and with that sterile little smile he used for press conferences. It was a shoddy way to remember him.

Damien's face fell and he nodded. A jerky motion as he squeezed your hand.

"I'm sorry, my friend," he said, "I never intended to leave. Least of all to leave you behind like this. If I had known I never would have gone, I would have- I don't know." He slumped a bit. "It all seems so clear in retrospect. In the end we both made our choices and I squandered my time."

The force from Damien grabbing your shoulders nearly made you stumble. The look in his eyes had changed. Still teary but now he was determined, hard set. You'd seen it plenty of times right before he went to bat in debates.

"Which is why I need you to listen to me, okay? I know it's difficult. I know you're struggling. But I want you to consider yourself now. You can do it, I know you can. There's still so much for you out there."

He gave you a look then and it was so fond you ached. The same look that used to make your stomach flutter. It was amazing and terrible for the way it reminded you.

"When I think of you I just... well, I think everyone could tell. I got my fair share of teasing for it, of course, but how could I help it? You're a star." Damien ducked his head, embarrassed for a moment. "The way you smile I swear you shine like one. I'd never forgive myself if you burnt out because of this. It's selfish of me but please- take care of yourself. If for no other reason than for me."

It left you speechless. Even as you told yourself it wasn't really him, your throat was tight. You knew you were already crying. Despite everything, you hoped this memory would follow you when you woke.

"Okay," you eventually settled on. The words were catching in your throat. "I will, I promise."

Damien let out a breath. When he pulls you close again, you let him. He pressed a kiss into your hair and held you tightly, longer than he ever would have dared to before.

"Thank you, my dear," he whispered. "Thank you."

The dam finally broke and you cried in earnest. You wanted to enjoy the escapism for what it was but this was too much. The hand rubbing soothing circles into your back only made it worse, his absence that much more apparent.

When you pull back your eyes burn and your nose feels stuffy. "I miss you."

Damien's lips quirked up into a barely there smile. "I miss you too."

This time when he leaned in you expected it; you went to meet him halfway even. You wished you hadn't closed your eyes. When you opened them you were back at home, lying in bed. Sunlight was just beginning to peek through your window and there were tear tracks across your face. There was light and smell and sound again.

You drew your arms close to you. Desperately, you tried to imprint that fond smile into your memory. Despite your hopes of having that dream again, Damien never appeared after that.

#Damien x Reader #wkm damien #writersofmark #youtuber ego #reader insert #markiplier ego x reader #ego fanfic #My writing

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lovingrosewho · 4 years

Text

Fake Dating (pt. 3)

Part 1 // Part 2

Here’s part 3! As usual, I hope you enjoy and any feedback is highly welcomed! 💕

MULTICHAPTER

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Rating: T. More fluffy this time

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester need your help with a case, which involves pretending to date the King of Hell.

Warnings: I think none, some cursing maybe

The evening goes as planned. You don’t talk much except for the occasional question directed at you, so you mostly dedicate to eat, report to Sam and Dean discreetly on your phone, smile, and squeeze Crowley’s hand under the table. He’s been a charm to be honest, his entrancing smile and deep chuckle could definitely make anyone fall for any lie, you’re not surprised he’s sold sin to saints for centuries.

It’s weirdly... easy, pretending to be a couple. And you’re astonished to see and listen just how much he knows about you just by indirect comments with the boys. Your favorite bands, your favorite color, he even knows you think roses are lame, and much deeper stuff, about your family, your past. It could be catalogued as weird, but thing is, it isn’t. It just seems normal. And truth be told, you know a lot about him as well. All those late nights doing research on the bunker’s library, on your own, with just the company of a single lamp and a pile of books, and him popping in, looking for the Winchester brothers, not realizing what time it was, trying to make just a little of small talk with you, it surely looks like you picked one or two things about him. It’s nice, not having to pretend to hate him for once, but quite the contrary, you can, for a few hours, let him peck you on the cheek and smile, or kiss each others hands, taking special care on the knuckles, running your fingers mindlessly on the surface of the skin of either your legs, palms or arms. Yes, it’s nice.

Now it’s been almost three hours and you think you’ll go crazy if you hear one more anecdote about some luxurious art gallery where rich people go to satisfy their ‘spiritual needs’.

“Excuse us but,” you say when they’re finished speaking “we should get going. You know, Queen and King of Hell and everything”.

Crowley’s eyes spark when you refer to yourself as the ‘Queen of Hell’.

“Of course!” the lady says in a tone you don’t quite like “But wouldn’t you prefer if we moved the party to our house?”

You consider the possibility for a second, if you could get there, perhaps you could help Sam and Dean too. You look at Crowley, who is watching you expectantly, waiting for your verdict. When he sees the silent sign for approval, makes an affirmative gesture.

Crowley pays the whole tab, which you’re certain wasn’t cheap, but he insists and doesn’t even let you nor your companions see the bill. Not that, being the King of Hell, matters a lot, apparently. You get going, driving along the shifters on an, also fancy, surely private, cab. The whole drive you don’t talk and you can barely look at Crowley, but his hand never leaves yours, and you’re relentless to let it go even if it seems, and probably is, wrong, given the facade is supposed to be over by now. He respects the silence filling the space, and keeps to himself any kind of comments he might have about the evening, or about you, conforming with watching you admire through the car window the few snow flakes that have started to fall from the sky.

About thirty minutes later, you arrive to a medium-sized house, considering you were expecting a mansion.

“What is this?” you ask quietly to Crowley.

“They’ve got plenty of houses all over the country, this one might just happen to be near, they move all the time” he explains in a shrug.

Even if Crowley’s explanation seems logical, you still have a bad feeling right in your gut, you take a firm grip at the silver blade you’re carrying to at least be prepared.

When you enter the household, the coziness of it immerses you; wooden floors and warm light surrounding you all of a sudden. You’re frankly impressed and glad to have left the luxurious side of it all back at the restaurant, but when you turn to Crowley, his face tells you something’s off.

“Everything alright?” you mutter closely to him.

“Yes, it just seems... weird. There’s no security system in this one and, one other minor detail, where are the Moose and Squirrel?” he mutters equally. Damn it. You forgot.

“Maybe they got the house wrong?” you keep speaking the same way, but the shifters interrupt you, conducting you to the living room, taking your coat off your hands and putting it on the rack. You obey, following carefully, looking for Sam and Dean on every corner, until they push a button at the side of the switch, hence you and Crowley are surrounded by metal walls, being left with only the center portion of the living room, meaning, just the sofa, a rug, and a lamp on top of the end table, the room being illuminated only by that single light, leaving you almost in gloom. You immediately take out your phone, but of course, it reads ‘no signal’.

“Ah” Crowley expresses “There’s the security system”.

You look at him in irony and turn to the nearest wall, punching it several times, like if it was gonna make a difference.

“You really thought we wouldn’t recognize a stupid hunter whore?” the shifters say through the wall.

“Bite me!” you scream, punching the metal again, taking your silver knife out and stabbing it too, only causing it to blend and almost break. You throw it furiously across the room and Crowley barely dodges it.

“Somebody’s got a temper” he mentions but regrets it the moment you storm towards him, ready to beat him too, he catches your fists in the air and backs you against the wall, his hot breath against your mouth “Easy there, love. I’m the last person you should be aiming your dandery nonsense to”.

“Really?!” you yell, liberating from his grip, not being able to control yourself “Cause it seems to me you set this all up and now you’re gonna snap someplace else and leave me all on my own!”

He rolls his eyes in a bored way.

“In case you haven’t noticed, which wouldn’t turn up as a surprise given the insane amount of anger you have in you as of now, there are devil traps right in this wall,” he starts pointing at the right one “and that other one”.

He’s right. The light makes it hard to perceive, but there are devil traps set with stainless steel all over the right and left walls.

“They’re not idiots, love” he tells you calmly “They know what they’re doing”.

“I should have known...” you say, more to yourself than to him.

“Kitten...”

“I should have fucking known. Fucking stupid. Flashed by the decor. Fuck!” you scream. Crowley comes up to you and engulfs you in a hug. You shake him off and walk a few steps away “Leave me alone”.

He looks in awe at you.

“You’re not about to behave like five hours ago, are you?” he exclaims, not exactly angry, but unsettled at the very least “Are you really going to pretend we didn’t share a moment back at the restaurant?”

“I said. Leave. Me. Alone” you repeat, going to the furthest corner of the room, sitting down and bringing your knees close to your chest. Crowley stares at you in disbelief.

“Suit yourself” he says, tone still calm but more severe.

A couple of hours pass. Room is still dim, the only light creates some harsh shadows and the temperature has started to drop since you’re in the middle of January. You can’t help the shivers, and the cold metal on your skin isn’t helping at all, but you’re too prideful to walk by the sofa, where Crowley is.

“Love...” he murmurs, trying to sound irritated still, watching you “You’re gonna freeze to death over there. Come here”.

You don’t make a single move, but are tempted to. Degrees keep lowering by the second, every time you exhale, a puff of steam comes out. Even thinking about a way out is becoming more and more difficult, with the lack of heat you’re unable to concentrate.

“Love?” Crowley calls again, this time there’s more concern in his voice. Your mind has started to drift, it feels as if any minute you were about to faint or quake uncontrollably. Lights begin to fade, Crowley’s voice too, your body seems to be shutting down to prevent you from going into shock from the unbearable cold.

Part 4

MASTERLIST // TAG LIST: @enby-thesbian (if you’d like to be tagged feel free to let me know! 💕)

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #crowley #crowley supernatural #crowley x reader #crowley spn #crowley x you #crowley x y/n #supernatural masterlist #supernatural multichapter #multichapter #crowley multichapter #crowley x reader fic #crowley x reader fanfiction #crowley fic #crowley fanfiction

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orbitariums · 4 years

Text

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏𝟏)

notes: y’all !!! this is the smut you have been waiting forrrr, and then some! lemme know yalls thoughts!! luh u. adding tags later! ♡

playlist ( always updating! )

warnings: smut!, unprotected sex (but be safe! also miss yn will not be getting pregnant. it ain't that typa story), cuteness and rainy days <3, talk about diets

word count: 14.3k

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

When you woke up, your legs were entangled with Steve's, your arms out in front of you and his arms draped over your stomach. He woke up a bit earlier than you had, but he stayed there, not wanting to disrupt you or leave you. It took you a moment to settle into the day, the blur before your eyes disappearing slowly. Then, Steve's touch against your body registered, and you sighed, sprawling out before him, absentmindedly pressing your backside into his crotch. Your eyes shot open when you felt the very obvious and abnormally large bulge prodding into you that Steve was trying to withhold.

Normally you might have tried to initiate something, tried to tease him even more, but even though the sheer size of the bulge caused a twinge in your stomach, you snapped back to reality easily. Everything became very apparent: where you were, who you were with.

"You up?" Steve asked, his morning voice quiet and warm with a side of gruff.

"Mmm," you sighed, turning over to face him. You smiled, fondling his face gently with your fingers. "Yeah. Morning."

Steve returned the smile, almost becoming giddy like a child on Christmas at the touch of your hand on his face and the sound of your slightly raspy yet dulcet morning voice.

"Did you sleep well?" Steve asked, and you chuckled, patting his cheek once,

"You're a gentleman. And yes, I did," you leaned in to kiss his lips, sweet and soft.

You did it casually, as if you always woke up next to each other in the morning, but in reality it was magical. The touch of your lips against his was still so foreign to him, like something he was trying to understand and savor the taste of. And despite all your confidence you still had to work up quite the nerve to kiss him like this.

Steve blinked slowly, taking a good look at you, gazing into your eyes before leaning up against his pillow,

"Big day. There's not much to unpack, but we're gonna be leaving here and going to my place. We check out in about three hours. If there's anything you wanna do, just let me know. I'm gonna let you get ready."

"Okay!" you grinned, and sprung out of bed.

You got ready quickly, not wanting to miss a second of your day with Steve.

All he could do was watch you get ready from the slightly ajar bathroom door with a satisfied grin on his face - you were such a beacon of light and he loved to see that you genuinely enjoyed spending time with him. And you were so cute getting ready, bouncing around on your feet and blushing your face, leaning into the mirror to apply your makeup, which came out rosy and natural when you were done. You didn't often apply a lot of makeup in the mornings anyway, and good for Steve, who liked to be able to really see your face. Then again, in his eyes you were beautiful no matter how you decided to look.

At some point Steve gave you your privacy, and you came out of the bathroom in your outfit for the day- a tie front white blouse with a lacy black bra that peaked out from underneath, and a pair of loose fitting jeans. And of course, your given accessories - pearl earrings, a small necklace, and a few spritzes of perfume. Steve, as always, was pleased with your appearance, staring with wide, appreciative eyes.

You lifted your arms up, only showing more of the bra you wore beneath, and your tummy, chuckling,

"You like?"

"I love. You always look amazing somehow," Steve grinned, getting up himself. He approached you and took your hands in his, giving them both a squeeze. "I'm gonna get ready, then we can do whatever you like until we have to leave."

You decided you wanted to share breakfast with Steve the same way you had shared dinner last night, only a bit more casually and not as elaborate. Steve was down with anything you wanted to do, and even though he tried to apologize because you couldn't necessarily go out for breakfast, you refused to let him. When you got the room service, you ate outside in the same chairs as last night, but you curled up into your chair, pulling your knees into your chest as you ate French toast, fresh fruit and scarfed down a good amount of mimosa.

"So beautiful being so far up here," your eyes sparkled as you looked out along the New York skyline, above all the business down on the streets, only knowing blue skies twinged with orange, the sun settling in the sky.

Steve looked out at the sky where you were gazing, and squinted in admiration, smiling back softly at you,

"New York can be beautiful, despite what they say."

You giggled, shaking your head,

"Believe me, some of my friends would have choice words for me if they knew I was in New York. They still haven't gotten out of their whole: 'west coast is the best coast' mindset."

Steve just chuckled wearily, spouting some of his wisdom as he looked out at the sky,

"I can't say I believe in any of the rivalry... but I'm Brooklyn born and raised. Can't take it out of me. Even after all this time."

Steve's wistful voice drew you in- you wanted to know more about him. For once, he wasn't just a history project, but he was a human. Everything you learned about him only opened your eyes further, and you were a sucker for learning new things.

"What was it like?"

Steve turned to face you, nodding slowly,

"It was... hard. Parents died when I was young, I didn't have many friends besides Bucky. And honestly, I'm not one to pity myself. I made it this far, I guess. And I loved Brooklyn growing up. I was sick as a dog half the time, but the other half of the time I was spending it around the greatest places in the city. And getting my ass beat 'cuz I didn't know when to shut up. Sure, the movie theater got torn down for some mall and the place Buck and I used to go for milkshakes doesn't exist anymore, but... I had that. In the city I loved, and still love."

You hung on to every last word of Steve's. Everything he said just rang true even though your life experience was nothing like his own. You were gathering that Steve did have a hard life, just like the papers presented, but he made it work in his own fashion. It was what had got him this far: his drive, his belief in himself and others. And although modern life wasn't something he was used to, he was taking it day by day. And he didn't say this, but it was much easier adjusting with someone like you by his side. You were the young old soul Steve needed, and a breath of fresh air at the same time. It was a part of the reason you were so delicate to him, so special.

"Must've been hard. It doesn't sound like pity to me. I think you just don't like talking about yourself," you grinned softly.

"Huh," Steve laughed. "You're right. Never have."

A beat passed, then Steve spoke again.

"You have something," he uttered gently, leaning forward hesitantly until you gave him the go with your reassuring eyes. "Just here."

His eyes were soft and trained as he leaned in across the table, dabbing at the corner of your lip with his finger at the powdered sugar that had landed there. The food on your oblivious face only made you even cuter. And while the action was nonchalant for him, it felt so intimate to you for him to reach out and touch you so gently, to do something so tiny for you. You couldn't help the way your smile grew as you watched him dust off his hand afterwards, leaning back into his own seat.

"You're honestly so cute, Steve," you sipped at your mimosa, and he chuckled goofily, shaking his head and looking down at his plate.

"I- I don't try to be-" he stammered.

Steve was so bashful he could hardly form a competent sentence, but all you did was laugh it off, eyeing him from the rim of your mimosa glass. You had him, for sure. Who else could render a grown man, especially him, speechless?

In the time that you woke up and finished breakfast, the hours had passed by and you and Steve were ready to leave. Packing up again wasn't a hassle as you had only spent the night there and Steve was there to help. You glanced out the window, squinting your eyes before you left the room. Clouds seemed to be settling in the sky, hiding the sun that you had been admiring so highly just a few minutes before. You didn't mind though, in fact it didn't take away from your love for the New York City skyline. Sure, you had cloudy days in SoCal, but you were used to sunshine. This was refreshing, almost. The gloom was comforting, the heavy clouds seemed to close in on you and hug you. It felt cozy.

You pointed it out to Steve as you left the room, your fingers mingling with his until you held his hand gently.

"Looks like it's gonna rain," you commented.

Steve looked out the window by the elevator and sucked his teeth, frustrated,

"Ahh, this conflicts with our plans. I was gonna try to get us out somehow, but we can't really do what I planned if it's going to rain."

"Steve, it's okay," you smiled up at him genuinely, squeezing his hand and stepping into the elevator. "I'm sure whatever you had planned was great, but I'd love to spend the day inside with you in your apartment. If I'm gonna be there for the next two weeks I might as well get settled in, right?"

"You really don't mind?" Steve asked, wanting to make sure you really were okay with it all, and you nodded.

"Yeah. When I'm with you, I have fun. I don't mind what we do."

Steve gathered the nerve to reach down and kiss the top of your head, the simple, sweet gesture making your body fill up with excitement like a balloon. The smile on your face only got wider. You wanted to keep count of all the kisses you shared - four thus far. You wouldn't admit it, but this was the most whipped for a man you'd ever been.

"You're sweet," he praised you, and this time you were the one getting bashful, looking down at your feet.

You exited the elevator and headed into the same secluded back area as before. Steve put on quite the oblivious show, carrying both your heavy bags to the car, his muscles flexing unforgivably as he reached up and easily put them in the back of the car. Normally you would've offered help but you had no problem leaning against the back door, watching him work his magic. He grunted as he stored away the last of your luggage, and that set your whole body on fire. You doused it out quickly though, when he turned and faced you with an incognizant smile, looking exactly like a golden retriever puppy dog. Steve turned you on, but there was something undeniably adorable about him that made your relationship far more than just sexual.

"You ready?" he asked, squinting slightly.

You nodded, smiling softly. As per usual, Steve opened the door for you when you got into the front passenger seat of the car. You wanted to tell him he didn't have to, but you stayed silent, because something in you told you that there was a part of Steve that did it subconsciously, still used to tradition and the art of being a gentleman. When Steve got into the car next to you, you felt your chest swell with excitement knowing that you were on the way to his apartment, and that this was still only the beginning.

"I'm excited!" you locked eyes with Steve, and that feeling came bubbling up inside of him, that feeling that he couldn't resist you and the bright smile of yours that matched your luminous heart.

He started driving and you looked out the window at the streets passing by, taking in all the morning glory of New York once again. Steve kept stealing glances at you, your head nearly pressed up against the window as you drove past buildings and people. Every once in a while, you'd point in amazement at a particularly expensive or tall building, or point out places you'd just die to visit. Steve noted all of it mentally, resolving to himself that he'd take you to these places somehow, even if you couldn't necessarily be together in the public eye.

You played soft music in the car, making small talk and mindless conversation during the half hour drive from Brooklyn to Manhattan. It was just as you were pulling into the lot in the back of the apartment that it started to rain, and not just rain, it started to pour. You shrieked with excitement when you ran out of the car like a giddy child, leaving Steve no time to open the door for you. In the rain, you couldn't help but feel free, spreading your arms out like an eagle and yipping. Steve seemed disgruntled, not wanting you to get soaked or even sick from the cold downpour, but you didn't seem to mind.

"YN, you're gonna get soaked!" Steve warned, opening the trunk and starting to bring both your bags out.

"That's what she said," you trilled, and you knew you were being childish, but you reassured Steve that you were fine. "Steve, it hardly rains where I live. I need to have this."

Steve shook his head, but he laughed at the reminder that you were a sunshine girl at heart,

"You're crazy."

"Okay, okay! I'll help, and don't try to get me not to," you sauntered over to your luggage, dragging it behind you while Steve followed, chuckling to himself.

You were both soaked, and by the time you got inside to Steve's floor, you had tracked rainwater inside his house. It dripped off the sleeves of your blouse, off your shoulders and hair. But you weren't worried about that right now. You were glad to be inside Steve's apartment, the place you'd be calling home for the next two weeks. His apartment was nothing like the luxury penthouse, but to you it was even better.

It fit Steve's style, comfortable and homey, full of browns and neutrals with dark wooden floors, and almost rustic in feel. Looking at the apartment, you wouldn't have guessed that it belonged to the same man who put you in a private jet yesterday, but it was still nice and spacious. It gave Steve that human quality, and you could tell that was probably what he was looking for.

Steve watched as you walked around the apartment, introducing yourself to the new surroundings, and closed the door behind him.

"Welcome. Hope it's not too dull."

You turned, still soaking, water splashing on the floor as you did so,

"Never too dull. I like it. It's real homey."

"Good, because we'll be here for as long as you stay," Steve nodded, remembering again that you'd be here for two weeks, which honestly felt like a long time. He wanted to make sure every second was satisfying.

"That's fine with me," you smiled. "But uhm, I should probably change. I don't wanna ruin your floors."

"You won't ruin my floor. Fair though, I should change too. We're both soaked." A beat passed, then mindlessly Steve added, "I can give you one of my shirts."

You paused slightly, not because this was something you didn't want, but because it seemed so intimate to you to wear another guy's clothing. It meant that you would be wrapped in his scent in the form of an oversized t-shirt or whatever he planned to give you. He noticed the way your demeanor shifted and looked up, brows raised inquisitively,

"Is that okay?"

A goofy smile spread out across your cheeks and you nodded slowly,

"Yeah, perfect."

You changed in Steve's bedroom while he changed in the living room, and you couldn't help but linger a bit, looking around at all his things and what was in his room. It was a simple bedroom, not much in it except his bed, dresser, night tables, and a bookshelf full of hefty books he probably hadn't gotten to reading yet.

On top of his bookshelf was a drawing pad, but you didn't dare look through it - you knew how personal something like that could be. There was also a photo album with no photos actually in it, but he had tucked a bunch of pictures into the first page of the photo album. You smiled to yourself - you knew he'd probably been meaning to stock the album but just hadn't gotten to it yet. You noted this as something you could help him do while you spent time together.

You heard Steve shuffling outside of the room, so you came out of his bedroom and walked into the living room where he seemed to be setting up, looking for something to do.

"Hey," he looked over his shoulder at you, occupied with one of the shelves in the living room. He looked over again, making a double take, this time with his brows furrowed and his eyes intense. "Hey," he repeated with some intensity, pausing to take you all in.

He hadn't thought much about giving you his clothes to wear but now that he saw you in them, it was like he got the wind knocked out of him. His clothes draped around you perfectly, dangling down your legs and leaving plenty of space. His hoodie practically hung to your knees, and underneath you were only wearing a pair of cotton gray booty shorts. And not to mention, you had ditched the bra, so he could see the outline of your breasts through the hoodie he gave you, nipples poking through.

He was trying not to be so juvenile about the fact that he could practically feel all of you through your clothes - his clothes - if he were to touch you, but man did you pull it off. Besides, you had obsessed over the smell of his hoodie when you put it on, you wanted to bury your face in it the rest of the day, but you settled for putting the hood over your head instead.

And anyway, you weren't immune from the thirsting. You too looked Steve up and down, dragging your eyes along his figure, which was especially apparent in the t-shirt he wore that seemed to cling onto his muscles just the right way. And who could forget the grey sweatpants that hung almost explicitly low on his hips.

You both were thinking the same thing: "You have no idea."

You cocked your head to the side, your voice coming out quieter than you'd intended,

"Hi."

"Uh," Steve cleared his throat, turning back to the bookshelf. "Sit! I was thinking we could play board games, maybe some cards."

"I'm down!" you sat with a grunt on the pillow that was by the end of Steve's long coffee table in front of his couch.

"Cool, so I've got Scrabble, Sorry, Uno..."

Steve went on with the choices and you eventually settled on Uno. Towards the beginning you said it was a game of luck, but when you won the first two rounds, you started to spout knowledge about strategy and how Uno was a game of supreme genius. It was all in good humor, but Steve was actually competitive like you.

You griped at him, warning that you didn't want him to let you win, and he actually laughed at you, replying: "Come on, doll, who do you think you're playing against? We aren't friends right now." Steve's competitiveness was quite fun to see up close and even a turn on. It was game on. You were five games of Uno and two and a half board games in when you yawned, and Steve's ears seemed to perk up as he looked at you.

"Tired?" he asked, and your eyebrows came together, confused. You didn't even realize that you had yawned.

"Mm-mm. Tired of beating you, maybe."

Steve snorted, shaking his head,

"You're hilarious."

"Right?" you teased, making a face like it was obvious.

"I do think we should take a break though," Steve sat up and dusted his hands off on his pants, and you refrained from making another sore winner joke, following suit and getting up yourself. "I can make you some tea and we can maybe watch a movie."

"Sounds good to me," you grinned, following him into the kitchen.

It was still raining outside, and the rain ran down the small window in the kitchen behind the sink. You stood at the window, folding your arms against the counter and placing your chin on top, gazing outside as the rain poured. It was a dreary but cozy day, and who better to spend it inside with than Steve, playing board games with him in his hoodie?

After putting the kettle on, Steve glanced over at you, your arms perched on the counter, looking out at the rain falling before you. He smiled silently. You were so cute, and he loved catching you in wholesome moments like this, when you were all to yourself, like no one else was there. He got a good scope of what your life was like when you weren't together through Snapchat and everything else, but now you were under such specific circumstances. In particular, you were with him. But in this moment, he could have a real life glimpse of what you were like when you were truly alone.

He went to go pass by you, and you stood up, turning on your feet to face him, trapping the two of you between the island counter behind Steve and the sink counter behind you. You were so close together, Steve hovering you while his eyes searched your face, before settling on your own eyes.

"Hey," you grinned softly.

"Hey," Steve replied, dimples showing when he smiled and you both leaned in, closing the little space between the two of you and letting your lips brush together and then flush, skin against skin.

The bristle of Steve's growing beard tickled your chin as you pressed your body against his, this time purposefully grinding your waist into the growing bulge as you deepened the kiss. Your lips together were soft and moist, mouths sharing the same breath. The rain seemed to grow even louder then, pattering hard against the window behind you, the skies darkening ever so slowly. You tilted your head, then Steve turned his, your noses sweeping against one another as you tried to find the perfect placement, the perfect pace, settling on this slow, passionate embrace of your lips.

Last night the kiss had been desperate, almost hot and feverish although slow. This time the sensation was as if you were accustomed to the feeling of your lips against each other's, learning the curvatures of the other's mouths. It was unhurried and sensual, needing more but not digging desperately. It was just apparent what you both wanted.

And you were all too wrapped up in it, your breaths becoming heavier and filling in the silence outside of the sound of the rain pounding on the window. His hands gripped the small of your back tighter, pulling you in closer to him, while yours explored both sides of his face. Your touch sent the most pleasant churning sensation down into his stomach, making that bulge in his sweatpants even more apparent. A quiet, faint moan left your lips, the sound of it sending Steve into a frenzy. You could feel him gearing to press into you more, telling you without words what you both wanted, revving to kiss you harder, until the shrill whistle of the kettle resounded in the room.

Five times you'd kissed now.

You both pulled away, alarmed, but Steve still kept his hands on your waist, his erection still poking furiously against you. Just the bulge tucked away in his pants knocked the wind out of you - you couldn't imagine what it would feel like inside you. But now all those hot and heavy feelings were slowly sloughing away as you returned to innocence, feeling sort of flustered at how quick you'd both been to try to veer this congregation of your lips into something more.

Since that morning, something had been in the air. Maybe it was the fact that you were inside all day and it was raining outside, so it made you feel like there was nothing better to do than have sex, but whatever it was, it was getting to the both of you. And soon there would only be one thing left to do.

You cleared your throat, your voice settled although your face was frazzled, and you could hear the smile in your voice,

"You should get that."

Steve seemed to snap out of it at last, blinking fast as he peeled away from you, nodding strongly,

"Right."

You bit your lip and sat up on the kitchen sink while Steve prepared the tea. As much as you wanted to help and be close to him, you had to cool off first. You and Steve both knew what you wanted, and you knew if you let it happen, it would simply happen. But you each wanted to hold it out just a little while longer. It was just a question of how much longer that would actually be.

It seemed that you had enough time to compose yourself while Steve made the tea, asking you faintly how many spoonfuls of sugar you liked and if you wanted milk or cream, and you replied with your preferences. Steve walked over, handing you your tea, and leaned against the island behind him while you swung your legs back and forth on the counter in front of him.

He reached out his mug,

"A toast."

"To rainy days," you decided.

"To rainy days."

You sat in silence while you took the first sips of your tea, delightfully warm and settling in your stomach in just the right way.

"How about... I order some pizza, and we watch a movie," Steve suggested.

"Deal," you bit your lip, grinning at him and hopping down from the counter.

The pizza came once you finished your tea, and during that time you had both been sitting together on the couch watching junk TV, like those fake court shows that you found yourselves unusually invested in.

Steve set the pizza on the coffee table in front of the couch and opened up the box, and you leaned in to give it a whiff.

“Okay. I have a... kinda stupid question," you said after a little while, while Steve put pizza slices on plates for the both of you.

"There are no stupid questions here."

"I know, but it's stupid anyway," you bit down, wringing your hands together a bit nervously - you didn't want to come off the wrong way.

Steve noticed how your whole demeanor changed as you turned towards him, cross legged and wringing your hands together, and he couldn't help but chuckle, trying to calm you down,

"What are you about to ask me, doll?"

You laughed at how weird you realized you were behaving, and shook your head,

"I was just wondering, you know. Do you ever, like... have to diet?"

Steve actually burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but giggle along. You knew you were silly to think that he would actually be upset with you asking him something like that. And as he was laughing, you really relished the sound of his laughter. He'd chuckled before here and there and it brought you little bursts of joy, but here he was giving you a genuine belly laugh, sonorous and fully amused. It was nice to see him loosen up a little bit. He finally regained his composure, but a hand was still on his belly as he shook his head.

"I can't believe that was what you were asking me. I thought it was gonna be something difficult and soul searching the way you were acting," he teased you, but then he placed his hands over yours. "You know you can ask me anything, doll. I won't get offended."

"Promise?"

"You have my word. Besides, I don't think I could ever get mad at you. To answer your question though... I guess I have to regulate myself. But, you know, the serum... gosh, it sounds so weird to say that... it makes things a lot easier. I can't just pig out all the time though, and I still have to train. 'S not something I worry about too much, but it's not like I'm eating junk food that often anyway."

"Oh," you nodded, actually intrigued to hear this information. You didn't want to treat him like a Captain America encyclopedia, but you, like thousands of others, had very curious questions about him. It was just your luck that you could actually ask him these things, the most reliable source there was. "That makes sense."

"Uh huh," Steve passed you a plate, topped with the cheesiest pizza you'd ever seen - it was true, New Yorkers didn't play with their pizza. "You know you don't have to diet though, right? Not if you don't want to."

Your heart warmed at Steve's unwarranted kindness. Of course he would think you were wondering this for yourself, and the fact that he checked in just in case made you want to squeal.

"You're so lovely," you couldn't help but reach over and stroke his cheek before letting your hand fall back in your own lap. "I know. I really just got curious, that's all."

"It's real cute," Steve commented, laying back on the couch. "Now, what movie do you wanna watch?"

"Hmm... well have you ever seen Harry Potter?" you asked, your voice going up a pitch as you got suddenly very excited, realizing that if things went as planned and Steve liked the Harry Potter movies, you could spend your two weeks binge watching and rewatching them on your inside days, and watching even more movies with him that he hadn't seen.

"I haven't. It's been written down in my little book for so long," Steve said, not realizing he let the existence of this "little book" slip.

"Little book?" you raised your eyebrows, and he turned his head to face you, smiling sheepishly.

"It's a little lame, but I keep a bunch of pop culture stuff that people recommend to me in this little notebook. It's how I keep up with the times. God, I sound like an old man."

Your heart soared at the knowledge of this notebook's purpose. You found it so endearing that Steve kept a record of the things people recommended to him, even if it was a little sad that he still felt like he had to adjust. You wanted to pour suggestions into this little notebook and treat it like a bucket list in the two weeks you had together, without adding too much pressure on him. One of the things on that bucket list would for sure be to watch the Harry Potter movies in their entirety.

"No!" you nearly growled, your voice raising louder than you had expected, rushing closer to him and putting your hands on both his shoulders. Steve's eyes were wide as he watched you, not expecting this sudden surge in energy. "Not lame, Steve."

You often restricted him from deprecating himself, always reminding him who he was as both a figure and as a human being, and he appreciated that. But this time around you seemed extremely ardent and sincere, adding some bass in your voice as you tried to get him to see.

"Okay," Steve nodded slowly, still wide-eyed and a bit shocked.

You blinked hard.

"Not lame." You realized you were being intense, and relaxed a bit, but Steve had no idea how happy the knowledge of that list made you just now, and you never wanted him to feel like it was silly or lame. It was just a reminder that he was in a world so strange and new to him, and he was making the effort to fit in. That was all that mattered for you. "I'm sorry, it's just... I really find that very sweet. Literally never stop doing that."

Steve grinned, patting your knee to reassure you,

"I promise I won't stop."

"Good... 'cuz if you do I'm just gonna make you a new list," you smirked, and you settled back down, Steve shaking his head playfully as he put on the first movie.

Your eyes glowed with excitement as the opening began, the notorious fanfare twinkling in your ears, and you scooched in close to him, wanting to cuddle. He obliged and placed his broad arm over your shoulders, pulling a plush blanket over the both of you while you snuggled your cheek into his chest. You'd cuddled the night before but you hadn't had the chance to really take it in.

Now you were doing just that, and it felt so right being so close to Steve, being so laid up like this. It was romantic. It was what couples did. And although Steve's heart was beating, trying to make sure he was doing every little thing right, you settled in immediately, your head on his chest calming his pulsating heart.

He was quite invested in the movie. In all honesty, he'd heard lots of good things about the Harry Potter series, but he never took the time, because he never had the time to watch them. He was glad you seemed adamant on getting him to watch the movies and catch up on all the references he missed out on. And watching the movies was entertaining. But even better than just watching the movies was getting to be around you.

You snuggled into Steve like you were just meant to be tucked under him, and you weren't afraid to get close to him, your head on his heart and your legs in between his. Steve kept peeking down at you, your eyes glued animatedly to the TV as Harry, Ron and Hermione explored the dark halls of Hogwarts Castle. You even quoted the characters at times. And honestly, your commentary was the best part of all.

You spent four hours sitting through the first two movies, just huddled in together, away from the rain, the empty box of pizza sitting in front of you. You felt safe with each other in the dim lighting of Steve's living room, alone together in the most intimate of ways. And while it was wholesome, being so close and locked in together was sure to make those feelings from earlier spring up again. It was in the background of both of your minds, though you each worked so hard to keep the movie and the innocent touching at the forefront.

Steve didn't want to initiate anything until he knew you were ready, because he didn't want it to feel rushed. The both of you knew that your relationship was built on this very sexual and physical basis, so you weren't exactly shying away from it. But there was a difference in doing it online and doing it in real life, and this was something you both understood without having to say it aloud. So you were each tentative, because you both wanted it, but you weren't sure when it should happen or how to say it explicitly.

Being locked in like this the whole day, though, when it was so dark and rainy outside, definitely got you both in the mood quicker. Your desires were unspoken, but they drifted in the air when you were together, even during these innocuous, wholesome moments. It was why when you got up from the couch to get ready for bed, you had this one thing hounding your brain, fighting to come up to the forefront. You tried to tell yourself you were just being a horny 20 something, but god did you want him. In every sense of the word you wanted him, and it made you feel a lot better about wanting to get physical with him. There were actually strings attached, and you wouldn't have accepted that if it were anybody else. But with Steve you were glad the connection went beyond the physical.

But that physical connection? You wanted to plug into it very soon.

"I think I'm gonna take a shower," you said after you got up from the couch, stretching a bit.

Steve's hoodie stretched up your legs, showing the tiny pair of shorts you were wearing underneath. You followed Steve's eyes as they raked up your thighs all the way to your face. Flustered, he replied,

"Yeah, that's- that's fine. I'll uh, clean up, and we can go to bed."

"That sounds great," you smiled warmly, again feeling that cozy surge in your tummy and heart that reminded you that you had Steve all to yourself, that you were doing these intimate things like sharing the bed and wearing his clothes, cuddling while watching movies on a rainy day.

It all honestly felt like the beginning of a relationship, without all the pressures of a typical relationship. The uniqueness of your situation made a lot of things different, but that didn't always mean harder.

You had made up your mind about the physical intimacy, though. It was why you snuck that lingerie set into the bathroom when you got ready for your shower.

As you showered, you mulled over your mind how you would approach Steve. You didn't want to catch him entirely off guard or take him by surprise. Your confidence reassured you that you hadn't been reading the signs wrong, that this was something you both wanted. You still wanted to approach this the right way. And although you weren't exactly nervous, you hadn't had sex in a long time, hadn't felt the touch of someone else's hands on you more intimately for a while.

But, neither had Steve. In fact, he was sitting in his bed outside the bathroom attached to his room, his jaw clenched as he stared at the space ahead of him waiting for you to come out, his mind returning to that heated moment you shared earlier. He was a bit embarrassed at the way he'd reacted so quickly, but amazed at how fast you turned him on without even really trying. And he knew that it was in both of your minds, and he was thinking of how and when he could bring it up to you respectfully. He was beginning to realize that these things were easier online.

You took a good look at yourself in the mirror after you had changed into the set Steve bought you, and honestly, you were digging it. You figured you'd just approach him outright, let him think about it and make it clear what you wanted - what you both wanted. You had done so much together through a screen. You couldn't wait for that to become real much longer. Steve had even said it himself: "I can't wait to fuck you." That moment was emblazoned in your mind at this point.

The set fit you perfectly. You had tried it on only once before, in front of the mirror in your apartment, admiring how it fit your body, taking hundreds of pictures but not sending them to anyone, not even Steve. He'd see it when he saw it, you had decided.

But looking in the mirror now, you felt like you were on fire. Steve had picked this out himself, so you knew it would drive him crazy. The white color of the cut out lingerie bodysuit was translucent against your skin so tantalizingly, and the way the straps at the bottom hugged up your waist highlighted the shape of your hips so well. And even though it was cut out, it left just enough to the imagination. The pink satin robe over it was just an accent, left slightly open just for show.

You bit down on your lip, doing your final primp and polish before you took in a deep breath and walked out.

"Steve," you said as you stood in front of the bathroom door, facing him in his bed.

When Steve turned to face you, his entire face and body changed. He hadn't been expecting this at all, and what made it even better was that you were wearing the lingerie he bought for you. The thought of you being in something he bought you made some part of his brain light up, the part that discovered new likings.

And god, you looked gorgeous. Your body could be seen in just the right way in the piece, and he couldn't forget the way it just barely covered your breasts, and the flesh right between your thighs. But more than surprised, he was turned on. That was why he wasted no time like he usually might have by being bashful and googly eyed. He was all those things, but he wanted you the most out of all that.

"Wow," Steve said, dragging his words out. He turned so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyebrows raised as he looked you up and down, taking you all in.

You giggled, feeling Steve's eyes burning into you.

You realized how long it had been since someone looked at you that way in person. Almost every night of the week, you had all eyes on you in your shows. But it just wasn't the same. There was never that special feeling. And with Steve, you knew his reactions were genuine.

And the look in Steve's eyes, hungry in the needy sense and hungry in the commanding sense, nearly made your knees buckle. Just the thought of what was coming next seemed to have you throbbing. He seemed to have no problem making eye contact this time around, there was no sense that he was being shy.

"You look... fucking amazing," Steve breathed out, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in.

And while you knew it was true, some part of you had you folding your hands together as if you were hoping he'd think that.

"Yeah?" you asked, tilting your head and slowly shrugging off the robe, letting it drop to your waist.

Steve's breath got caught in his throat as you fully revealed the lingerie beneath, the robe pooling around your arms and waist. All he could do was nod before he found his voice again, gulping,

"Yeah." He beckoned you to him, outstretching his arm. "Come here, doll."

You inched towards him, unafraid despite how much the pounding in your chest may have indicated that you weren't. You understood your power, knew how to utilize your spectacular sexual prowess. You may have both been a little rough when it came to real life interactions, but your chemistry together was explosive. It would knock any awkwardness out of the park, or enhance it in a way that made the experience a lot less nerve wracking.

You stood in front of him, looking down at him with lust in your hooded eyes as you took in all of him.

"Take that off for me?" Steve's hand brushed against the robe.

His voice was low and teetering on the edge of desperate. You soaked in all that need, wasting no time with teasing like you usually might have, because you wanted this just as much as he did.

You took it off, letting it fall to your feet on the floor. Removing the robe showed off your legs, smooth and elongated. He took in a sharp breath, his chest hurting from how badly he wanted you. He inched his hands forward, resting them on your waist and running his hands up and down the sheer fabric of the lingerie piece. The feeling of his hands on you was so different from the feeling before, because you knew exactly what was going to happen next, the realization burning in your stomach.

Steve took his time with you, his hands on you making it so hard for you to wait. He saw the way your eyes glimmered with desire and he grinned almost devilishly.

"I know, puppy," he called you, and his hands lowered on your hips to settle you down onto his lap. Despite how wide his legs were, you straddled him with ease. He nudged his knee into your clothed center, pushing your legs even further and making you let out a loud huff. Steve let his fingers run along your cheeks as his eyes searched yours. "So goddamn beautiful."

"Steve," you panted, and he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours and letting your lips meet in yet another kiss. Six times you'd kissed now, and you weren't counting all those cute pecks on the couch earlier.

His lips sunk into yours with ease, both your mouths wet and hungry for kissing. Your bodies seemed to meld into each other's, neither of you very conscious of your movement, just knowing that you were getting closer and closer to each other. You could feel Steve breathing hard against your face, and the touch of his hands on your body felt like they were burning prints into your hot skin. You moaned into his mouth when his hands traveled down your back to cup your ass, almost tentatively, like he didn't know what to do with it.

You wanted to encourage him to go for it, and you succeeded, because he squeezed the sensitive flesh, kneading it in his hands which were larger than life. You could feel his cock through his boxers, closer than you'd ever felt it before, and you couldn't help but whimper when you rolled your hips against his length, because the friction was so unbelievable.

Steve's eyes nearly shot open when you rolled your clothed cunt against the erection still growing in his boxers, forgetting how apparent it was that he was hard, and forgetting that you would actually do something about it. Too many times he'd been left to handle things on his own. The fact that you were actually there to help him release all that tension got him going like nothing else. And he could feel the shape of you against his cock, feel your slick folds beneath what you wore like it was your bare flesh. He grunted in your mouth, eventually opening his eyes where they hung low, pulling away so your eyes met.

"You do know what you're doing, right?" he asked, not as a warning or an expression of doubt but as a confirmation that you knew the things that you were making him feel.

You rolled your eyes playfully, your smile lazy and hazy eyed,

"No, Steve, I'm grinding against your dick for no reason."

When you put it that way, it made Steve blush, returning to that bashful disposition for just a minute before he came back to the space he was in again.

"I-"

"Shh," you shushed him lightly, putting your finger over his lips, making him look up at you with almost innocent eyes. You shook your head gently. "Don't talk."

You leaned in again, taking control of the situation as your fingers squeezed at tufts of his hair, pulling gently and summoning soft groans from his lips into yours, kissing him harder this time. Hard enough that you pushed him back onto the bed, him following under your lead, overwhelmed with the feeling of your body up against him, laying his entire body down.

You kept on kissing, hot and heavy and full of touching, but it wasn't enough to satisfy the craving you both had, no matter how many times you brushed against Steve's cock, no matter how much Steve's hand creeped past your ass and his fingers brushed against your core, which was practically soaking through your lingerie. You pulled away from his lips with a pop sound, your face suddenly emerging from being buried in his as you straddled Steve’s lap, who was now shirtless and starting to get a bit hot.

"Steve," you breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath. You needed to say it aloud. "I... wanna have sex with you. I just... I think we're both ready."

Steve knew that was what you wanted but he wasn't sure when either of you would actually advance things further. You watched him as he blinked, biting down on his lip.

"You're- you're sure?"

"I need it," you practically whined without meaning to, and fuck, Steve couldn't say no even if he wanted to - how could he when whining sounded so good coming from your lips, swollen and wet from kissing.

His eyes nearly glazed over at the sight of you on top of him, in that flimsy little piece, so frustrated and so needy, almost pouting. There was no way he could try to tempt you even more - he didn't have it in him to wait by teasing you.

"You really can't wait? You need it that bad?" he drawled, not because he wanted to taunt you, but because he wanted to hear how badly you wanted him, the way you expressed it on camera.

You couldn't resist, not when he was running his thumb along your bare thighs the way that he was, looking up at you with a sort of unintentionally cocky smirk set on his lips.

"I need you, Stevie," your face gave it all away, brows furrowed and your eyes full of desperation. You rolled your hips against him again like you were trying to prove it, nearly paralyzing yourself with the pleasure you felt just from the outline of his cock. Your legs shook and your jaw clenched. The sound of your pouty voice was almost agonizing. "You need me too."

Steve groaned at the repeated feeling, teeth grit as he decided to take matters into his own hands. You landed on your back neatly as he flipped you over with ease, now hovering over you. He was big and strong and his build was intimidating. He covered you completely and then some, and you quaked at how his body over yours almost cast a shadow. There was no innocence left in Steve's eyes, only burning desire and a need to control and be controlled. All that was running through his mind was thoughts of pleasuring you, making you cum around his tongue, his fingers, and his cock. Words couldn't express how much he wanted to bring you to that point and actually be able to touch you.

"Fuck," he uttered out, his throat tight and constricted. "I need to get you out of this."

A part of Steve wanted to rip it off, and another part of him wanted to keep some control of his senses and savor the way it looked on you. But he settled for burying his face in your neck, kissing you and leaving tiny little love bites to remind the both of you of this night. Steve's lips against your skin had you feeling so sensitive, the way he toyed at your neck and earlobe, making you shudder into his ears. Your hands flew to his back and gripped the tight muscle there, exploring the broad surface. The taste of your skin, that light sheen of sweat mixed with your natural taste had Steve aching for more - all he wanted was to bury his face in your pussy right now, then bury even more of him inside of you.

He moved onto your chest, peeling the top part off with ease, reeling back to take a good look at you. You let out a sharp intake at the feeling of the flush of air against your tits, realizing how exposed you were to Steve, who seemed ultra focused on the curve of your breasts. You looked so beautiful, half naked, writhing underneath him, waiting for what was next.

He took one of your breasts into his mouth, kissing and suckling at your nipple and making you cry out for the first time, your eyes shutting closed at the feeling of his warm lips closing against the flesh. He carried on with this until your nipples were hard stiff in his mouth, reveling in the taste of you and the noises his mouth made against you, as well as all the pleasured breaths that left your mouth as your chest rose and fell.

"So fucking beautiful, baby," he whispered kissing down the expanse of your tummy until he reached the happy trail.

You wondered if he could feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach at the sound of his praise. You watched through blurred eyes as Steve's head ducked further down your stomach, reaching that v-line that was almost covered by the bottom half of your lingerie. You almost moaned when he peeled that off with his teeth, looking dead at you as he did so.

"Steve, fuck, you swear you're not that experienced and then you do shit like this," you panted, though you couldn't stop your amusement from breaking through.

He laughed quietly, but in his blue eyes there was more dominance than there was cheeriness.

"I do my research," was all he said, the assertive nature of it all sending those butterflies swarming again.

He finally looked down at the bare flesh that was between your legs, a low groan escaping his throat as he did so. Your pussy was dripping wet and glistening, and though he'd seen it onscreen, absolutely nothing compared to the way it looked in real life. All he could think was that he was where he belonged, in between your legs. The sight of you made his cock twitch, precum practically leaking out of the tip and probably leaving a dark wet spot in his boxers.

You whimpered when you saw him looking at your pussy as it pulsed around nothing but air, needing him to say something, do something, anything. His eyes flashed up to you momentarily and he smiled slightly at the needy pout on your face, then back to your soaking pussy right in front of him. He couldn't say that he was all confident — he had a lot of things on his mind because he wanted to make sure his inexperience wouldn't hinder your pleasure. But some part of him also knew he'd make you scream.

"Such a pretty pussy," he grumbled, and reached his fingers out, gathering slick from the very entrance of your slit and running it between your folds, eliciting a gasp from you as your toes curled from the unexpected sensation.

"Fucking hell, Steve," you moaned, watching as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, tasting just the very beginnings of you and seeming to savor it.

He wished that he could lock away in his mind the noises he made come out of you, and keep on his tongue the taste of you. The sound of his name on your lips was so enticing.

"That good?" he asked, genuinely wanting to make sure - he was still so sweet even with his head between your legs.

You ran your fingers through his hair, praising him like he was a good dog,

"Mhm. So good."

He tried and failed to hide the almost giddy grin that appeared on his face, then began to kiss and suck around your inner thighs, a relaxing touch that made your head loll and your eyes roll back in your head. Then that kissing at your thighs, those wet and chaste butterfly kisses became so much closer, his lips wrapping around your clit and giving it a soft kiss. He looked up at you for reassurance,

"That okay?"

"Fuck, yes, Steve," you cried out at that zinging sensation, desperate for him to really get going. "More."

You pulled at his hair, which seemed to be a good indicator of what you wanted, and he smirked to himself, satisfied, and dove right in, not wasting anymore time.

The sound that came out of your mouth when Steve buried his face in your pussy, the tip of his tongue dragging along your entrance as he kept his lips suckling at your clit, was probably the most angelic thing Steve had ever heard. It had been so long since you'd been granted the simple luxury of getting your pussy eaten, and Steve was proving more and more by the minute that he was going to provide you with that luxury and more. The sounds you made egged him on, and he let that gentle prodding of his tongue become lapping, using his whole tongue against your wet entrance and lapping away, reveling in your bittersweet taste.

You writhed around his head, your back already arching up off the bed. You were feeling everything - Steve's mouth at your throbbing clit, his wide tongue lapping fat stripes up your slit which was coated in your thick arousal, the bristles of his growing beard against your inner thighs, the feeling of his hands at your thighs, spreading your legs apart the perfect amount for him.

"Oh," you moaned, and Steve moaned back, the vibrations of his moan running right up your core. "Mm, fuck, Stevie. Feels so fucking good."

Steve breathed out heavily, his hot breath against your core adding to the many sensations you were feeling at the moment. With each movement Steve made, your hand tugging at his hair grew tighter, only revving him up further. He wanted to make every inch of your body quake with pleasure and know that he was the reason why, he wanted to drag out all the moans he could from you until you lost your voice.

When he pulled his tongue and mouth away you whimpered, but he was right there making up for it, running his fingers along your clit in slow, tempting circles. He seemed to understand the way your pleasure operated right away, seemed to know exactly how to hold you over until you got to that point. And when he looked up, his beard and his lips glinting with your arousal, it was to your amazement that you remembered this wasn't just any old guy, but Captain America who was eating you out with such finesse. If that wasn't a sexual feat, you didn't know what was. Steve's eyes seemed feral with a glint of concentration, studying your face and the way your chest heaved up and down.

"Feels nice, doesn't it, doll?" he asked, dragging his fingers up and down on your clit and teasing your slit, making your face flex in a needy frown.

All you can do is let out a strangled moan as he keeps teasing with his fingers, running them along your pulsing slit until he dips the pad of one of his fingers in, feeling around until he slips it in entirely, earning a slight moan from you as his finger slides in. He savored the feeling of your walls, so warm and wet, hugging his finger, wanting to duplicate the feeling around his cock - but not yet. And fuck, just Steve's one finger is huge, more filling than your own fingers could be, reaching inside of you deeper than you could ever manage. You absolutely squealed when he dipped another finger inside, having to stretch you out a slight amount to even fit another finger. He raised his brows at the effort, realizing again how big every part of him was compared to you.

Then he found a pace with his fingers, pushing them in and out slowly, gently, scissoring you open and stretching you out as much as his fingers could. You moaned as he fingered you properly, thrusting his fingers in deep and slow, in and out and curving upwards at the spongy bit of flesh inside of you that made you squirm each time he pressed his fingers against it. He studied your reactions, probing at that spot inside of you with just the right amount of pressure once he understood your body.

"Yes," you mewl when he added his lips into the mix, lapping and sucking away at your clit, his own spit mingling with your arousal as the combination seemed to drip off his tongue and down his own chin.

He looked up at you, his eyes darker and lustier than you'd ever seen them, and you whimpered, combing your fingers through his hair in praise until he looked back down and closed his eyes, soft lashes pressing against his face.

He continued with this, drawing all kinds of moans and groans from your sweating throat until he lost all technique, his tongue sloppily lapping against you while he started to fuck you with his fingers, still just as deep but growing faster now. He was messy with it, losing himself in the taste of you and the feeling of your throbbing heat, closing his eyes and just going to town on you. He was really getting into the groove of pleasuring you, disregarding technicality and neatness, which was the only request you had for him: to let go. His only focus was getting you to come undone, and when Steve made a plan, he stuck to it.

"Oh, right there," the feeling of his tongue and his fingers against that spot had you spiraling in a good way — a sated moan bubbled up your throat, your hand gripping his hair hard, bringing a satisfying stinging sensation to his scalp.

Your orgasm came fast, your toes literally curling and your knees coming up, your feet sliding against the sheets. An open-mouthed, pleased moan escaped from your lips, white flashing behind your shut eyes as Steve drew the first orgasm of the night from you. And honestly, just the feeling of you coming on Steve's face was almost enough to make himself come, but he held back.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, the only word that could escape your strained chest, trying to make sense of everything that Steve was bringing out of you.

Even as you were coming, Steve didn't stop, still lapping away at your juices and fucking his fingers in and out of you at an absurd speed, drawing out your pleasure as long as he could. But you were quite honestly winded, not sure how much more of this you could take.

"S-Steve," you muttered, garnering the energy to stutter his name.

"Mm?" he hummed, his lips still against your clit, the sensation making you come again. It seemed like it shouldn't have been possible for you to come twice in such a short amount of time, but Steve's fingers still buried inside of you begged to differ. He drew back right when that happened, his brows furrowed in amazement as he watched your arousal pool out from you, his head pounding at the squelching sound your pussy made when his fingers slid out of you. "Oh, sweetheart. You're so wet."

He looked up at you, and the combination of the look in his eyes and the crease in his brow would've seemed concerned if it weren't for the fact that he was just genuinely amazed and surprised that you came twice in such a short amount of time.

"Mmph," you humphed, coming down and blinking, dazed.

"You okay, doll?" he asked, laughing quietly.

You were still shaking, still in recovery, but at least you could speak now, loosening the grip on his hair and beckoning him towards you. He gladly hovered back over you, face to face with you yet again. He blushed at the amount of slick he could feel dripping all down your thighs and legs against his own legs when he hovered over you.

"Come here," you cooed, awe shining in your eyes.

Steve leaned in and let you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, sweet and slow, an appreciation kiss for what he'd done. You could taste all of you on just his lips. When he pulled away, he found your eyes boring deep into his, serious again.

"I'm ready," you bit down on your lip, and your voice became quieter. "I need you inside me. Please?"

"Oh, princess," Steve cupped your chin, and face, grazing his thumb along your lips. "You don't have to ask."

You held Steve's gaze, comprehending all the absolute adoration in his eyes, all of it held there for you.

"So glad I got you here all to myself, doll," he murmured lovingly, vast hands stroking your face.

You smiled,

"Me too."

He took in a deep breath as he stood on his knees between your legs, pulling down his boxers and letting his cock spring out. You'd seen it before, only once, and it was huge in person, veiny and throbbing, curved just the right way. The tip was leaking with his precum, the entire shaft engorged with a particular longing. You almost felt bad, you couldn't imagine how long it had been aching, because it was especially hard.

He noticed the bewildered look on your face. You were sort of prepping yourself with the knowledge that that was going inside of you. He couldn't help but wrap his hand around the shaft, stroking his cock slowly, only allowing that slight tug as a form of relief.

"You got me," he grunted, holding back just for you.

"Let me," you practically commanded, reaching forward to take him in your hands and feel him for yourself, biting down on your lip as you indulged in the feeling of your hands wrapped around him.

He took in a sharp intake of breath when you started slowly stroking up and down, but as much as he loved the feeling, he pushed your hand away at some point, shaking his head,

"Later. Right now I need to be inside you."

You couldn't stop the sinful grin that spread across your lips when he said that and dove back down, hovering over you yet again. His forehead brushed against yours as he positioned himself at your slit, just the feeling of his tip poking against you making you whimper loudly.

"Shit," he hissed, teasing your folds in earnest now. He used his hands to guide himself, sliding the tip of his cock up and down between your folds, which were soaked in your arousal. This alone could make him come. "You're dripping, sweetheart."

You whined, bucking your hips up as you tried to get him inside of you for real, and he snapped out of it and realigned to your pleasure.

"'S okay," he reassured you, and connected his lips to yours yet again, in that sweet, heart wrenching way because you only wanted one thing. "I got you," he promised, finally sliding the tip in.

Just at the feeling of the tip buried inside of your needy cunt, your eyes shot open and you looked up at Steve, who was doing everything in his power to take it slow. Your hand flung to his shoulder and you nodded, your voice faint and coming out in whispers like you were reaching for something,

"More."

He slid in even further, going past the tip. He wasn't even halfway in, and his shaft nearly filled you up, making you squeak out in pleasure. Meanwhile, a knot was nearly formed at Steve's temple as he focused on going further and not letting go regardless of how good you felt around him, tight and slowly being stretched out. He cherished the feeling of his cock going deeper inside of you, how wet and warm you felt, walls closing around him like your pussy was designed for him. It was more than sexual, it was euphoric, making his mind go blank as you wrapped around him so graciously.

You on the other hand, were scrunching your eyes shut, overwhelmed with pleasure and need. You wanted him all inside of you, but you were adjusting to the feeling, his cock thick and long and filling you up without even being all the way inside of you. You were silent, besides the whimpers that left your quivering lips as he pushed deeper inside of you, slowly and with the steadiest hips he could manage.

“You okay, doll?" he questioned, glancing up from where you were connected and at your face instead.

"Mhm," you opened your eyes and nodded, though you were blinking away tears - the pleasure was insurmountable, twinged with a bit of pain as you tried to get used to his length.

You were no virgin, but with how big Steve was, of course you needed the guidance. He seemed to understand that without having to communicate it, which made you want to joke about how cocky he was being without even realizing. But mainly, you were just appreciative.

You kept your hand at his back for comfort, your nails lightly scratching the sweaty skin that felt like an expanse of new land to you.

"Almost there, princess, I promise," Steve's voice was low and restrained, but he was trying to reassure you, stroking your jaw with his thumb and kissing gently at your neck, sending shivers down your spine at the sensation.

He finally bottomed out, pushing all the way inside of you, and you cried out in ecstasy, your nails digging little half moons into his back. Your hands relished the feeling of the muscles in his back flexing as he made slow, tentative movements. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your walls stretched out to grow accustomed to him - not just his cock, but him. You had to adjust your whole body to him, this masterpiece of a man, and Steve felt the same way. You looked beautiful, a luster of sweat that could easily be mistaken for a natural glow painted on your body and face, your puckered nipples brushing against his own chest. His hips dug into your own as he buried himself inside of you, forcing your legs to spread out.

He liked the way he had this sort of control over you, couldn't deny the fiendish delight he got from seeing you underneath him, so fucked out and almost delicate in that way, having to accommodate to his size. But larger than that sinful delight was the way his heart swelled at your beauty, and the fact that the thing he had longed for so greatly was finally catching up to him. The sound of your moans, whimpers, all those little pants you let out without realizing, he could finally hear in real life, in the safe haven of his own ears.

And being so close to you felt incredibly intimate - it didn't feel like he was hooking up with someone for a quick intake of pleasure, which was what he had sought you out for at the start of it all. It felt like he was with someone who he belonged with.

And he was inside of you. The sound of your strangled cries brought him back to real life. Not only was Steve big, his dick had the perfect curve, reaching depths and angles that no one had ever reached before - only your toys had this power, and it was still incomparable to him. He hadn't moved, he was just letting his body sink into you and become acclimated to the delirious feeling of being all the way inside of you, unforgivably deep, your weeping pussy throbbing around his length.

"Fuck," he let out a throaty groan, his voice harsh and raspy. His mind had gone blank again, focused on only one thing. Your pussy was so tight, holding onto him like a perfect, firm handshake. He had to choke out his words, so enveloped in ecstasy. "That's... so-"

"Mm, Steve," you blinked away tears, finally acclimated to the feeling of him all the way inside of you, needing him to move. "Move, please. I can take it."

"You can take it?" he rasped out, looking down and directly into your eyes, finally moving his hips almost all the way out and then burying himself in again, feeling your wetness slide up and down his cock. "You like taking my cock?"

"Yes, you know I do. It's so fucking good, Stevie," you moaned out, bucking your hips up as you yearned for him to create a rhythm, getting the air knocked out of you when he did the same thing, this time slamming back inside of you, his hips stuttering. "Oh fuck!"

You realized how loud you were being and your hand flew to your mouth without meaning to, but Steve was quick to remove it, shaking his head,

"Be as loud as you need to, princess. Got the whole floor to myself."

You whined at the prospect, and from then on you held nothing back. Steve was fucking you now, settled on a slow, steady pace. He listened to every groan that left those pretty lips of yours, set on giving you your third orgasm of the night. And no one held out better than Steve. His endurance was impressive, you knew that. But you wanted to test him on something else.

"That all you can do, Captain?" the title rolled off your tongue so sickly sweet, causing Steve to pause before he just glared at you and set off again, this time relentlessly, pounding into you hard and fast.

You were caught off guard by the change in pace although it was what you were looking to pull out of him, and your mouth dropped open into an o-shape. This was nothing you could achieve on your own, and not even with anyone else. No, because Steve really was a supersoldier, showing off that speed you had been so in awe of even outside of the bedroom.

What made it even better was that he didn't seem to realize he was fucking you in an almost enhanced way, utilizing his powers in a way no one else could. His name seemed glued to your lips as you mewled out, nails scraping down his back like you were a cat and he was a scratching post.

"Is that enough for you, doll?" Steve asked, his lips brushing against your ear as he buried his face in your neck, even bringing a thumb to your clit and rubbing hard circles that made you feel like you were seeing stars. You could only moan in response and he shook his head slowly. "I need a yes or no, darling. Or is it too much, hmm?"

Steve's dominating purr had you shivering, had your back arching up off the bed, feeling everything so intensely.

"I-it's too much, but it's so - fucking good, oh my god," you blabbered, eyes rolling back in your head as your hands on his back explored the nape of his neck. You tugged at his hair in that way that seemed to signal that whatever he was doing, he had better keep doing it.

He kept slamming into you, rough and hard yet somehow deep and loving at the same time, his hips snapping into yours. The bedroom was filled with the lewd sounds your wet pussy made each time he slammed into you, making Steve blush despite the circumstances. And even with the amount of pleasure you were in, all the dominance Steve had over you in the moment, you fucked him back. You'd never been one to just lay there during sex, or during anything. You liked to be in charge, too.

Steve was ultimately impressed by the way you seemed to sync up with him, inching your hips forward as you slid up and down his cock, your breasts bouncing deliciously with each motion. You were both all moans and groans and hearts swelled with adoration. It felt so surreal to hear the deep moans you longed for through the screen right here in your ear. In the midst of it all you kept staring down at where you were connected, drunk on the sight of him disappearing inside of you.

"You close doll?" Steve asked when he noticed all the tell tale signs of your orgasm approaching: the way your breath sped up, the intonations of your moans, the way you clenched around him like you clenched around his fingers.

"Yes, don't stop," you practically begged him, tears welling up in your eyes from the absolute intoxication you felt, a euphoric feeling that was so new.

"'M not gonna stop," Steve chuckled, shaking his head slowly.

Even if he teased you or assumed a more dominant disposition, all Steve wanted was for you to ride out that pleasure. He didn't know if he had the heart to really make you work for it. And besides, he was getting close himself. He was surprised anyone could last very long with you to begin with, but he set his mind on your pleasure and that was exactly what he would be giving you.

Steve knew he was done for when you wrapped your legs around his waist, slowing his thrusts and forcing him to be practically submerged inside of you. He switched from pounding into you to grinding his hips against yours, moaning darkly as he watched his cock disappear completely inside of you. He seemed to reach your stomach, rearranging your guts. You grabbed onto the back of his head, forcing his face into your neck. When you came, it was like you and Steve were colliding stars, creating a supernova that shone so bright, its light traveling all through your body. You were babbling curse words and praise, moans spilling out of you as you tightened around him and came on his cock.

Steve rubbed gentle circles onto your clit as you rode the orgasm out, nodding and encouraging you, bringing you back down to earth slowly,

"That's it princess, come for me. That's it, you're good. You're perfect."

Steve kept slowly pushing and grinding his hips inside of you, letting you enjoy your orgasm until he approached his own, grit teeth and all.

"Fuck," he cried out, the loudest you'd ever heard him moan, your name tumbling out of his lips like a beautiful lyric.

Steve didn't pull out though, he just slowly lowered himself on top of you, careful not to crush you, keeping his cock inside of you as his cum filled you up in hot, long spurts. You felt ropes of cum disappearing inside of you, biting your lip at the feeling. And what a feeling it was to come inside of you, the only place he wanted to be from now on. It made him feel like you belonged with him, like he had this special privilege that no one else got. You just lay there together, heavy breathing and silence until Steve finally moved, all his cum safe inside of you.

"Fuck," he shuddered again, glancing down briefly at the mess he'd made of your completely ruined pussy. (Ruined with love.)

The comedown left you both with positive thoughts, none of the profound melancholy that could sometimes settle in after sex. Finally it had happened. The thing you'd both wanted since day one, but had never actually expected to be possible. Again you were both filled with amazement at the other, at the knowledge that either one of you actually existed. Steve was laying on the bed besides you and you were both looking up at the ceiling. He glanced over at you, his cheeks still flushed.

"Did you uh... like that?" he asked, back to the humble old Steve he'd always be, making your head snap over to look at him.

You chuckled, still out of breath,

"What do you think?"

Steve grinned to himself, feeling accomplished. All he wanted was for you to feel good with him, in every sense of the word.

"Good," he placed his hands behind his head. He glanced over at you and saw that your body was jittery, almost shaking, your legs especially. He smirked to himself, washed over with that fiendish delight once again. "Do you always shake when you come?"

You narrowed your eyes playfully, rolling towards him and kissing his neck,

"Sometimes... depends."

"Huh... good to know," Steve's lip twitched upward into a smile.

"Mm. I'm too tired to get up," you breathed out, but you had to force yourself to anyways. "But I should pee."

Steve laughed,

"Yeah. You do that."

When you came back from the bathroom after rinsing off slightly, you crawled into bed, not falling asleep immediately. Instead you turned to face Steve, your eyes twinkling even in the dark of his room.

"Steve..."

"Yeah, doll?" he replied.

"I... I really like you, okay? And I know you know that already, and I know you like me too, but it's been a while since I've been in... anything with anybody. And right now, this feels really special. I... want this to be good," you choked out, trying to organize your words, because you didn't want to be too mushy but communication was always important to you and you needed to express yourself.

Steve's heart pounded with adulation for you, and he cupped your face in his hands,

"Of course. Anything, YN. Anything, I'll do it for you. I want this to be good too. Fuck, I've been trying so hard to make everything perfect. I hope that doesn't take away from it being good."

You smiled. You knew you were in the right hands.

"I know you have. And it has been better than perfect, and it's only the second day. I really love every second we've been spending time together. I just... I like you, okay?"

"I like you," Steve repeated, and you had to stop yourself from tearing up.

"Mkay," you nodded, and Steve squeezed your cheeks, making you giggle. "Good night."

"Goodnight," Steve let you go, but ended up pulling you close anyway, the both of you facing each other as you cuddled together, Steve tucking you under his arm, fused together.

Steve didn't want to leave you in the morning although he had to go into the office, so he waited for you to wake up. And when you stirred, he kissed your forehead, waiting for you to come to.

"Morning, sweetheart," he doted on you, and you swallowed, eyes blinking open.

"Morning," your voice was all used up from moaning so much last night, and you could already tell from the feeling between your legs that you were going to be sore.

Steve noticed the way you winced slightly when you shifted your legs forward, and pouted slightly,

“You okay?"

"You're fuckin’ huuuge," you chuckled, sprawling out and stretching out your arms. "I think my cervix is wrecked. Like, indefinitely."

Steve, although he was thrown off by your aggressively dirty humor, laughed, rubbing his eyes. He looked down at his boxers under the sheets, then at you with a faux apologetic face,

"Sorry."

"Never apologize for having a big dick," you smirked.

"Noted," Steve shook his head playfully. "Hate to have to leave you, but I gotta go in this morning. Just briefly."

"That's okay," you smiled understandingly, stretching and letting the covers flop over, exposing your naked upper half which Steve glanced at tentatively, the puckered nipples and smooth skin. You were unknowingly tempting him to stay in, but he knew he couldn't. Besides, you'd need the rest - then again, he could just go down on you, that would be pleasure enough for him too- "Earth to Steve!"

"Sorry, I got distracted," he muttered, and you chortled.

"I noticed. Hey, but you should go, the quicker you leave the quicker you can come back, right?"

"Uh huh. If you need anything, text me. I got something nice planned for us later after this."

"Cool," you grinned wide, and Steve leaned forward to receive a sweet kiss from you. It all felt so domestic and lighthearted.

"Alright, I'll see you."

Steve got dressed and was out the door, driving slow on his way to the tower, his mind flashing back to moments from last night and this morning, fluctuating from burning hot to wholesomely warm. He couldn't help the etch of a smile on his lips even as he walked back into the building. He made his way to his office without seeing anyone yet, but Bucky was standing outside his door, leaning against it with a set look on his face. His arms were crossed and his eyes were narrowed - he looked like he had some serious business to take care of.

Steve raised his brows at the sight. Bucky was already a scary looking guy if you didn't know him, so the fact that he looked so determined right now made Steve think something was up, but he didn't think it had anything to do with him.

"Hey Buck," he chirped. "What's goin' on?"

Bucky didn't skip a beat, certainty ringing clear in his voice,

“I know what you've been doing.”

bonk. share your thoughts!

hope y’all loved this chapter <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert #marvel #marvel imagine #steve rogers series #marvel series #marvel smut #smut #orbitariums #girls on film #steve rogers x camgirl! reader #camgirl! reader #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine

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theshy1sout · 3 years

Text

Inseparable - Chapter 12

Tags: Broppy, Not rated, Trolls Mythology Au, Slow Burn Fluff

Ao3 here

Notes: This chapter... is twice longer than usual. I just didn’t see a reason to cut it in half. That would be cruel tbh

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Everything is fine. Isn't it?

Every day and night is the same, as they used to be... Poppy walks on the hill, this very specific hill they used to climb on to pass the Staff along. Then she meets Branch. He asks for one more night or day to finish the thing he works on. And she agrees. He walks away, with the Staff or without it, and Poppy always watches him for so long.

Why.

Why does this feel so bad? Why does it hurt so much? Everything is fine. Poppy didn't lose anything - she still has her wonderful job, amazing friends, and basically everything the Immortal could dream of. Her teamwork with the god of the Night is just... Temporary pendant. Nothing to worry about. Branch is just making some surprise...

The goddess doesn't know how long she has to wait. Two weeks passed, but what is just two weeks for Immortals? Poppy knows it should be nothing... But it feels like forever.

Why. Why she can't just patiently wait? Why the feeling in her heart, so warm and pleasant earlier, now is so heavy and painful. She can't enjoy anything as much as she used to. Her sweet job becomes a boring routine. She realizes she smiles way rarer.

Why?

Poppy feels like a little child with those feelings. So pitiful. She sits every Night under this oak where Branch showed her a shadow. She plays with an oak leaf in her hand, watching lightning bugs flying around the meadow. Or watching the stars above her. They always make her even sadder. No matter how long she sits there, she never sees Branch. She can see him only for a minute on the hill.

And why? Why is this so sad for her? She used to live without him for so long. She doesn't need him to live or be happy, she used to be happy without him too. Didn't she? It's not the end of the world. It's not even forever. It's temporary, isn't it?

And why, why is Branch so into something? What is this? What did the rainbow inspire him to? What is he making? Maybe something with colors... Poppy remembers a spark in his eyes when he stared at the rainbow. He was so amazed by its colors. Yeah, he is making something colorful for sure. Maybe he dreams about colors visible in the Dark. Cause it is known that during the Night colors fade and almost everything is black or grey. Poppy feels her heart getting filled with new hope. Maybe if she makes something with colors that are visible in the Night, she will get a little bit more of Branch's attention? Maybe he would leave his project and come back to her? She imagines his gentle smile on his pretty blue face. His azure eyes meeting hers. She reminds herself of his touch on her cheek. Cold but so tender and affectionate... She misses him so much...

The goddess of the Day stops the thing she is doing and walks toward the Palace. A hope pushes her in this direction. She wants to believe that not in vain.

* * *

- I don't know - Smidge frowns at a flower. - I'm still not sure about the spikes.

- It needs them to protect itself from critters! - Meadow explains.

- Yes, hurting the critters - Milton adds, putting his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. - I'm also not sure about them.

- But the spikes create a good arrangement with its carmine petals - Satin points out, touching the flower carefully.

- Disagree, sister - Chenille crosses her arms on her chest. - It's too edgy for me.

- It's poetic beauty, not so obvious. I'm bored of doing boring things, let me experiment a bit, sis!

- Well, I really like how it looks now - Meadow, the goddess of plants, gets down to the flower. - If we can make spikes less sharp, can we keep them? I want it to be safe, not like other of my mites.

- Let me think a bit about it - Milton grabs his head with both of his hands. He sighs heavily. - But please, later, not now, I'm so tired of thinking about this flower.

- Oh, you - Smidge pats him in his elbow. She is too short to reach any higher. - We do take a break. Let's just change the topic a bit.

- Thank you...

- Hi, guy!

Immortals turn to the pink, bright lady waving to them on the horizon.

- Poppy! - Satin beams at the goddess walking to them. - What perfect timing!

- Why is it so perfect?

- We need to talk about anything else than that flower - Chenille points at the little plant on the ground.

- What is this?

- We want to create a flower with Rose's name - Meadow explains. - Just for sentimental reasons.

Poppy gazes at slender leaves on dark green stem with little spikes. The carmine petals draw around themselves, creating a beautiful red mosaic.

- It's wonderful - She says, but in her voice and her mild smile is hidden a note of gloom.

- Is everything okay? - Smidge asks, looking at her with worry.

The goddess of the Day forces herself to rise the corners of her lips a bit higher.

- I'm fine, everything is fine. Nothing wrong happened, I'm just... a bit tired.

Immortals look at each other. Poppy is known as a very, very, VERY energetic, vivid, and loud person. At least as a person who never gets tired, especially of her job. But no one says anything.

- So, what do you need from us? - Milton asks carefully.

- Well, I need something light and colorful - The pink face brightens a bit. - Something really visible in the darkness. Something like, I don't know, colorful safe flames? - She turns to the twins. - Can you design something like that?

- Let me guess - Chenille clicks her tongue and lifts her eyebrow. - Another 'surprise' for Branch?

- Well...

- Last time we painted with you the whole sky in blue! - Smidge chuckles. - I mean, it is so gorgeous now, white clouds look amazing on it, but damn it, that was a huge thing!

- Yeah, not mentioning the rainbow - Satin adds. - Poppy, isn't that too much?

- What are you talking about, those things are breathtaking! - Meadow protests.

- She means, giving gifts - The tiny, yellow goddess of Honesty crosses her arms, looking at Poppy. - Do you really need those things?

The pink lady stares at them blankly during their talk. She looks up joylessly at the Gold Sphere. “Do they need those ‘surprises’?’’ she asks herself in her mind.

- I don't know - She says, shyly gets her sight down. - But I like it...

- I mean, gifts aren't a bad thing - Smidge corrects herself. - But if the friendship is only giving gifts, so there's gifts, no friendship, am I right?

Poppy doesn't say anything for a long while.

- Hey - The tiny yellow goddess gets close to her. - I just see, you are sad. And I'm asking what's happening? Maybe I'm wrong...

- Actually, you're right - Poppy interrupts her firmly. Then she closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths. - I'm sorry, that was too firm... But you're right - She hides her face in her hand. - You are so right...

The awkward Silence falls among them and passes a minute or two.

- So... - Milton tries to ask again. - What happened?

- Nothing - The pink goddess sighs. The wave of helplessness hits her right into her heart. - Absolutely nothing. And I don't understand... Why is it hurt so much...

- What specifically? - Meadow asks shyly.

- This... This nothing... - She gets her head up and looks at her friends with eyes full of tears. - This Silence... Between me and Branch.

- I know it's a really bad question - Chenille frowns. - But why is Branch so important?

- I have no idea! - Poppy speaks a bit too loud. Her lips vibrate, her sight is already blurry. All she knows now is a hint of sadness.

- Okay, okay, calm down - Smidge says softly. - Just tell us what you know, okay? What do you feel?

Poppy sniffs. She wipes her tears from her eyes. Her knees become weak, so she sits down, not caring what the rest thinks about it.

- What I know - She repeats blankly and takes another deep breath. - I know that nothing wrong happened. We created the waterfall to make some kind of infinity rainbow... And then Branch just walked away... He said he works on some big project... Every time I meet him, he begs for a bit more time to finish it... - She clenches her hands on the Staff so tight. - And now... I don't talk with him too much... I mean... At all...

Poppy sniffs once again and wipes another tear from her cheek. Her words are quieter and quieter the more she speaks.

- It's been two... Maybe three weeks. I know it's nothing, so short... And I know it's not forever. He'll have done what he's doing and everything will be as before...

She sighs heavily.

- But that hurts for some reason... I don't know why... I miss walking with him and... And talking and... And just him. I miss him... - She hides her face into her hand once again. - Not sure if he feels the same although...

- Well, that's a weird kind of friendship - Chenille says after a long while of Silence. - I've never heard about friendship that can hurt.

- So the lack of Branch's presence is painful? - Smidge wants to be sure.

- Yeah... - Poppy sniffs, still avoiding eye contact.

- So let me guess, you wanted to make another gift to catch his attention? - Satin asks.

- I guess so...

- So If he comes back to you, you will be happy again?

The pink goddess gets her head up at Milton's questions to look at him humbly. She takes a long, snatchy breath.

- Yes.

- Well then, what happened that he came to you in the first place? - Smidge continues analyzing. - I mean, what did make you talk or something?

Poppy glances at the Staff, reminding the last months.

- I told him what I felt - She says after a while, with a much stronger voice. - About the situation... You know, this whole "greeting" awkward situation I told you a lot.

- You have to tell him what you feel right now about THIS awkward situation! - The goddess of Honesty jumps up with a sudden hit of energy. She throws her little fists in the air. - You have to tell him! You have to fight! - She grabs Poppy's blue dress and yells right into her face. - I don't know what is between you and Branch, but I saw you happy that you were never before and I saw him smiling and laughing and taking part in Sharing like he NEVER was expected to do, and whatever it is YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FOR IT, GIRL!

- Okay! Okay! Calm down - Milton grabs Smidge with both his hands and takes her away from Poppy.

- Well, maybe that was too loud - Satin takes a look at the tiny yellow goddess.

- But It was all true - Chenille ends her sister's sentence.

- Yeah - Meadow adds. - I think... Well, I'm not the god of Friendship, but I'm sure it's not like Branch just gives up on your relationship. As Smidge said, it makes him happy too.

Poppy looks at her with hope. Her heart starts to beat warmer at those words.

- Sometimes a friend gets lost in something and needs a friend to get him out - Smidge puts her hand on Poppy's shoulder. She's much calmer now, she gives her friend a really wide smile, making the pink goddess chuckles.

Poppy takes a deep breath and her face brightens with a little, but real and genuine smile.

- Thank you. Thank you all - She looks around at her friends. - I'll do that.

- And we'll design this colorful-light-thing - Chenille announces with a smile.

- Just because we like challenges - Satin chuckles.

- I feel like we should call R and B to that project...

- But first, we have to finish a rose! - Meadow protests.

Milton chuckles at his friends and then glances at Poppy.

- It's almost twilight - He tells her. - Go talk to him

- You know where to find us! - Smidge adds, with a little hit in the pink arm.

The goddess of the Day chuckles slightly and stands up with the Staff of the Light in her hand. She looks at the horizon, fearing the first step. Her heart beats with hope and doubts, but she doesn't let her mind think of "what-if"s. She wants to try what her friends advised her. She wants to try, she wants to fight... She wants Branch back...

* * *

Poppy is standing. Oh yeah. She is standing like she never did before! Standing so hard, standing so firm, standing so desperate. The pure bold beams from her statement. She is standing with a goal, she is standing on the hill, on that specific hill, ready to fight, ready to everything. The bloody sky fades behind her back. Oh, the goddess looks like a warrior, no, like a winner already! And all her strength is almost touchable...

...until it washes over her and soaks into the ground with a very first sight of the black hair of the Night.

Weak. Weak is the word her whole shaking body is screaming at her. You are so weak, Poppy.

Branch arrives at the hill without a word. So naturally for the god of the Silence. He views her face blankly. His blue eyes are painted with tiredness. He... He looks so exhausted. So pure. There's not a slightest shadow of a bad intention in his husky voice:

- Poppy... - He clears his throat, and continues calmly. - I know it's a lot to ask... But can you give me one more night and day?

The goddess feels her heart melt. How could she be firm to him looking like that, asking like that?

But then, she knows, it looks like that every twilight, every dawn, and it will still be like that as long as she agrees. So when the blue hand reaches for the Staff, she sets it back, giving him a firm look.

- No - She announces.

- Poppy, I have to start the Night...

- I don't care - She throws and feels her lips shake already.

Branch looks at her with a real puzzlement.

- You don't care? - He frowns. His voice gets a bit husky again. - What does it even mean?

- I am not giving you the Staff - She emphasizes every word.

- But why?!

- Because - Her lips vibrate. - I don't let you hurt me like this anymore.

Her voice cracks a bit. She swallows slowly, not being able to look at his face anymore. But she started it, and she wants to finish, no matter how this conversation will end.

- Listen, Branch - She keeps her breath and voice calm, but her sight is already blurry. - It's... Almost three weeks until our last talk. I feel avoided, ignored. Forlorn. I know it's nothing for us, Immortals, but... After the whole time we spent together... After... Many things we shared... - And now her voice cracks. - I miss you so much...

She gets her head down, not knowing what she is looking at anymore. She just closes her eyes tight and feels a few tears streaming through her cheek. She hasn't known she is that weak.

- Do you even still feel... the same heart thing... Do you? - She whispers.

- No! I mean, Yes! I mean... Oh my goodness...

A gentle touch on her chin gets her head up. His cold hand gets her hair from her face behind her ear. It cups her face and starts drying her tears with a thumb. With a still blurry vision, Poppy feels her hand lift without her purpose and suddenly it touches something. A fabric. And she feels a light warm. And a heartbeat. Rushing, loud, strong heartbeat, so similar to her. Something cold is pressing her hand to that. She blinks a few times and sees... It lies on Branch's chest. Covered by his big, strong, and gentle hand.

- I do - The god speaks, kinda rushing. - I do. I feel. I still feel the same. Please, don't cry.

His hand constantly rubs her cheek. His thumb carefully wipes her eye from tears. His tired eyes are filled with genuine misery.

- Please, don't cry. Please... I am so stupid. I am such an idiot. I was so into... - He sighs heavily, closing his eyes. - ...this dumb project, I... I miss you so much too...

His despairing blue eyes dive into her. He cups her pink cheeks with both of his hands. They are cold and shaking slightly. Oh, they are so cold. Poppy can stop enjoying them, his big blue hands covering almost her whole face. She sniffs and smiles at him. Her heart is beating fast and warm, and she feels Branch's under her hand too. She gets much more than she was wishing for, and she can't help, can't help but smile widely and warm at his beautiful blue eyes.

- You were an idiot - She announces like the happiest news of the year.

- I know - He starts shaking his head with disappointment for himself. - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you...

- It's ok - She sighs deeply, still smiling. - I mean, It wasn't ok, but now, now it's ok... Just... - She closes her eyes. - Can we stay like that for a minute? I really need this now... - She says, snuggling her face into one of his hands.

Branch doesn't answer, but she doesn't mind it. As long as she feels his beating heart in his chest and his hands embracing her face. The beatific smile doesn't leave her lips. All the worries wash over her. A great pleasant sigh of relief is everything she can say right now.

- Grab the Staff or I never let you go off my face - Poppy threatens, which doesn't sound grimly with her serene voice. She hears a slight chuckle of Branch, and the sweet cover, almost warm now, leaves her face. He takes the Staff from her hand and she lets go of his shirt.

The goddess gazes at him to meet his eyes, to give him a warm smile. But he doesn't glance at her. His head is down, his face is still full of tiredness and misery.

- Branch?

He closes his eyes tight and twists his face. He hesitates a bit after he heaves a sigh.

- I can't hold the fact that I hurt you... - He rubs his eyebrow slowly and leaves his hand like that, covering his eyes. - That was so dumb... So absurdly idiotic... I was too much into this thing, you know, I felt so... Inspired. And...

Poppy steps close to him. Her little pink hand turns his head to face her. He drops his hand and shows her his weary eyes full of tears.

- I just wanted to deserve such a person like you - Words sneak quietly from his lips. He is gazing at her so miserably, deeply disappointed.

But the goddess smiles at him even wider, her eyes are sparkling with sheer enjoyment.

- I don't need gifts - She puts her other hand on his cheek to cup his whole face. - I already have all I need. Right in my hands.

The god blinks. He laughs aloud and genuinely. A single tear drops from his eyes and streams down his blue cheek until little pink fingers wipe it away. He sniffs.

- I miss you so much - He whispers warmly and gruff, smiling, smiling endlessly, smiling so hard and so dumb at happy, sunny Poppy's face, beaming with honest happiness.

She let go of his face, but not of his eyes. The bags under them make him look a little bit different. She wants to let him rest as quickly as possible after she'll fully enjoy his company.

- Can you show me that thing you were working on? I want to curse it for keeping you away from me.

The god chuckles.

- Whatever you want.

They don't walk so far. The cave, where they arrived, is big and dark, only thanks to the Gold Sphere Poppy can see anything. And there are many, many bags filled with weird, magically sparkling substances.

- Go ahead - Branch encourages, seeing curious in her eyes. - Touch it.

The goddess goes to the nearest bag and sinks her hands into its silver content.

- Silver sand!

- Yep, I call it 'glitter'. Cause it's little and it glows.

Poppy chuckles.

- What is this for?

- You take a bit of it - Branch presents. - And powder somebody's eyelids during sleep. It creates dreams.

- Dreams?

- I mean... You can see your dreams during sleep. You can even feel them as if they are real life.

Poppy looks at the glitter flabbergasted.

- And the sleep will never be boring again...

- Exactly.

- That's so amazing! - She cheers.

- Yeah, but it has two faults - He heaves a sigh. - First, it's disposable. After one use it does nothing. Just glow silverly.

- Does it stay on eyelids?

- No, it falls on the ground. It smooths into the soil actually and masses deep under the ground.

- Is it dangerous or damaging?

- No.

- So why is this a fault?

Branch wrinkles his nose.

- I mean, if trolls find it, they would just play with it! - Poppy suggests.

- Play with it?

- Yeah, look - And with that word she throws a bit of glitter in the air. It sparkles so magically, slowly falling on them. She grins at the god's displeased face, making him chuckle.

- Okay, maybe you're right - He dusts the glitter off his capote. - But disposable still means I would have to make it more and more of it... - He looks away, twisting his mouth. - And that's... That's also the part of its second fault... If I want to use the glitter on trolls, I will have to spend all the Night running through the Land and powdering their eyelids...

Poppy blinks at him and then looks down at the glitter on her hands.

- That's why I was kinda desperate about it - He murmurs tiredly. - I wanted to be able to use it every Night... And still, have time for my main responsibilities... - He swallows and looks into the goddess's eyes. - But the most important was for me... To still have enough time for you.

She melts, smiling warmly at him.

- Oh, Branch...

- I know... It came ironically stupid...

She chuckles gently.

- You could tell me.

- I will do it next time - He carefully dusts the glitter off her nose with his finger. - I promise.

- What if we powder it together? - She asks after a while of thinking.

He frowns and hesitates.

- Then I guess, I will have time for my main responsibilities - He gazes at her. - But still not for you...

- I mean, we'll be spending the whole night actually.

- But rushing with my duties, that's ridiculous...

- Well... - She starts slowly and calmly. - The glitter is a genius invention, and if you want to use it and this is the only way, then that will be enough for me.

Branch blinks tiredly before he turns his sight at the bags full of glitter. He is staring at them for so long, thinking in Silence. Then he starts slowly shaking his head.

- No - He decides firmly. - I'm not choosing anything over you.

Poppy smiles widely, even giggle a bit with joy, feeling her cheeks turn red and her heart gets warm.

Suddenly something flares on the night horizon and both of them turn to see what it is. It walks to them unhurriedly, and soon they recognize Immortal's silhouette. His silver, sparkling skin shines like a diamond in the darkness. He stands in front of them with his hand on his hips and grins at them.

- Hi! - His voice echoes in the cave in a weird, extraterrestrial way. - Who are you, guys?

- Who are you? - Branch asks with clear confusion on his face. He turns to Poppy. - You know him?

- No, but... It's nice to meet you! - The goddess tries to be polite and welcoming to the stranger. - My name is Poppy, I'm the goddess of the Day and Light. The guardian of the Staff of the Light and the Gold Sphere on it. And this is Branch! - She points at the god.

- Yeah, I'm also the guardian of those - He shows the Staff in his hand. - As you can see. I'm the god of the Night, Darkness, and Silence.

- Sounds cool - The silver stranger cheers. - And who am I?

Poppy and Branch look at each other confused.

- You don't know? - The god asks.

- I've just come from this weird black hole at the end of the world.

- Oh, the Chaos - Poppy recognizes.

- Ha! So that hole has a name? - The stranger chuckles, and then frowns. - So you don't know who I am?

- We can give you a name! - She beams. - What about Diamonddd....

- ....Guy? - Branch ends. - Guy Diamond?

- Oh, this is a really good name! - The silver god bucks and poses like a model. - It fits me perfectly.

- Okay, let me guess - The blue god interrupts his rhapsodizing. - You're the god of the Glitter?

Guy freezes at those words.

- I have weird deja vu - He points at the bags. - This is the glitter, am I right?

- Yep - Poppy nods. - You know what is it?

- I feel like I know it more than myself - He sinks his hand into silver sand with amazement. Then after a moment, he grabs one bag and shoulders it. - And I know exactly what to do with it!

- Should I warn you that you will have to create more...

- I can produce glitter much faster than you think! - Guy interrupts Branch. - You can leave me all of this, I take care of it. - He points at the cave filled with bags. - And now, excuse me, I have so many trolls' eyelids to powder! - He yells enthusiastically and walks away with a bag full of glitter. They watch his wandering silver silhouette until he disappears on the horizon. Branch turns to Poppy with his tired eyes and shows her a smile full of relief.

- I kinda start liking Chaos - He jokes, making her chuckle. - So... Now when I'm truly free... What do you want to do?

Poppy looks at his weary face, his weak smile, his half-opened eyelids, and grey bag under his faded blue eyes...

- Come with me. I know exactly what to do - She smiles encouragingly.

The goddess brings him to the meadow where she was spending the last few weeks.

- The oak - He murmurs, looking at the huge tree. He recognizes the place where he showed her a shadow and for the first time he took off his capote in front of someone. It is a place with a beautiful view of the stars and the whole Land around. Many little lightning bugs are flying casually above the grass. He yawns loudly when the wave of tiredness hits him without a warning. - What do you want to do with this oak?

Poppy grabs his arm without a word and pulls him down to sit. He doesn't protest. He needs to sit right now. He slumps against the wide oak's trunk and leans the Staff against his shoulder. Then he notices that little warm hands are still holding his arm, so he turns to her with an asking sight.

- You need to rest - The goddess says calmly and warmly, and her sound voice makes his eyelids heavier somehow. - Take a nap.

- But what about the Night? You can't touch the Staff now...

- I won't - He feels his breath get calmer when she speaks like that. Quietly, warmly, softly. - I'll stay awake. You need sleep, even an hour or two. I'll wake you up, so you’ll be able to do your duties later.

He blinks slowly, staring at her little glowing freckles.

- You have a heart of gold...

- Stop talking, you dork, just sleep!

The god smiles amused. He closes his eyes and slumps his head against the tree. He breathes a deep, glad sigh. But before he falls asleep, he feels a warm touch on his cheek pulling his head down, and soon his chin lands on Poppy's shoulder.

- Are you sure I'm not too heavy for you? - Branch murmurs quietly.

The goddess smiles gazing at his blessed face.

- Your head will fall anyway - She whispers, feeling him briefly purring with a sleepy pleasure on her shoulder, like a big tired cat. - Good night, Branch.

She sees him sighing blissfully. Yes, his head is huge and heavy, but Poppy doesn't care. His arm is cold, as much as his cheek, but it gets warmer under the goddess's touch, which is weirdly satisfying for her. It is so pleasant, although she doesn't dare to touch him more, even if it lures her. She respects him so much, she would never do anything without his awareness and agreement.

But to be honest, now, now is a really huge dose of happiness, of adoring and enjoying their company, their talks, and touch. Her heart is filled with peace, with peaceful happiness.

Oh, she missed him. She missed him so much. It is so, so good to have him back.

____________________________________________

Index

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mrs-hollandstan · 5 years

Text

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [one]

Pairing: Frat Boy!Tom x Student!Reader

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex that almost aren't mentions of sex, fuckboy Tom, mentions of domestic issues, a small confrontation

Word Count: 7,299

Author's Note: The teaser did really well for it being a teaser and I am SO glad. If you enjoy, lemme know what you think of it!

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

There are drastic differences between Los Angeles and Seattle like the weather, traffic, even the population, but there are also many similarities that make a transition from one city to the next, just the smallest bit easier. They always say that finding friends in Seattle is harder because the non-stop gloom, for a record breaking five months straight makes the locals reclusive. Of course, the heat in LA makes people just as reclusive, but the chance of meeting someone with your interests and mentality in the nearly 4 million population is more likely and easier to obtain compared to Seattle's 742,000. That is of course if you don't have ties already in one of the cities already.

One of the easiest transitioning factors for you, transferring from a community college in Los Angeles to a four year college up north in Seattle was your older brother Cole, who'd seemingly abandoned the half assed family you claimed and the muggy city the both of you had grown up in. It was nothing personal against you and you knew that, but the new person your father had become after the death of your mother shifted the feeling of your once love filled, perfect family, home to hostile and toxic. Your father and Cole hadn't gotten along the few months leading up to Cole leaving for Seattle and as you neared the transfer period for college, it was either tagging along with your dad and his new girlfriend to busy New York, or reunite with Cole after two long years and live in chilly Seattle. Not that either were a bad idea, but it came down to which of the men you grew up around was more tolerable and which school was best for you and your major. The end choice was Cole and Seattle, both of which seemed to invite you with open arms.

The plane ride saw a lot of rain and landing in a cold and dreary Seattle airport to be met with the soft, kind features of your older brother was something that excited and comforted you. His muscular arms encircled you and you squealed as he sighed, holding your body extremely close with a kiss to your temple. After gathering the rest of your belongings that hadn't already been shipped to Cole's house, he leads you out to the same car he drove up in, driving you to the small house you'd only seen in pictures and showing you to what would be your room when you stayed with him and not in your dorm with the roommates you'd already started conversing with. Despite being very protective and loving, Cole was willing to let you take the reigns on your own life and make all the adult decisions needed to get you your degree, whilst also supporting you and providing you the necessities to live if need be. Because he knew what it was like to be pressured and he made damn sure that you would never feel that with him. Which is part of the reason you chose him and Seattle over your father and Manhattan.

---

"So you said you've already talked to these girls like via text? They're cool? Because-"

"I have your place if I need it and I can always transfer to a different university if I feel pressured. I know Coleslaw." You complete your older brother's statement, his eyebrows knitting in a line at the nickname as you glance over your shoulder at him. You smile and bump his shoulder as you carry a box up towards your dorm room, navigating the endless, tan hallways of a place you'll be calling a second home for the next two years.

"Yes Cole, I'm in a group chat with the three of them. We're already good friends and I haven't even moved in yet." You explain to him as he hauls two more boxes after you, pausing to bring his knee up and get a more firm grip on the boxes in his hands. Dark curls fall onto his forehead, escapees from the mop atop his head that you've been begging him to cut for two months,

"What are their names? I-I can only remember Scarlett." He asks, hazel eyes trained on the bobbing lid of the top box he holds. You nod,

"Scarlett, Phoebe, and Ivey. Supposedly one of them has a boyfri- oh my god I'm so sorry!" You squeal, bouncing back into your brother who has the wind knocked out of him as you run into the front of a tall, dirty blonde boy, stunning crystalline eyes darting between you and Cole,

"S'alright love, no harm done. To me at least." The boy speaks up in a thick British accent, punctuating the statement with a chuckle as he watches Cole lean your boxes against a wall, supporting them on a knee again. He gives a tight lipped smile to the other boy as you glance between them,

"Sorry... I should really watch where I'm going." You reply through a small laugh. The blonde shakes his head as he looks down, chuckling softly, playfully,

"I'm alright. Came around the corner a little fast. You're all good." You nod and smile, brushing past him. You turn to each other, flashing one more kind smile before he passes Cole with a small greeting and heads down the hall you just came up. Cole nods at the boy before sighing and rolling his eyes,

"If that was your first introduction to college, I'd hate to see what the rest of it consists of." He mumbles. Narrowing your eyes, you cock you head and gesture to the boxes now bowing at his weight,

"I knew I shoulda stacked a third on there for you." You joke. He cocks his head, mockingly laughing along with you before he gestures down the hall and starts to follow again, watching you pause and check a small piece of paper in your hand before knocking at a grey door. It swings open with almost no time in between and a girl about your height with ombre hair that goes from an almost black to auburn and blonde at the tips and down the front of her shoulders, smiles,

"Y/N?" She asks as you set the box you carry on the floor and nod, her smile widening before she steps out into the hallway and pulls you into a hug, rocking you back and forth and squealing,

"Its about time you showed up." She says. Leaning back, she glances over your shoulder at Cole,

"Come on in you guys, your room's the first room on the right." She says as you step aside for Cole and follow him in once you pick up your own abandoned box. He sets the two he carries on the tan carpet, placing his hands on his hips with a sigh,

"Its nice. It's real open." He says as you set your own box beside his. You nod and smile, turning to your roommates as they crowd in the room. The two other girls share their hugs with you as Phoebe introduces herself to Cole now that she's already met you both at the front door. Ivey's skin is tan and the dark brown hair that's cut to rest at her shoulders, frames a beautiful, caked face that sparkles with every move. Scarlett's dark skin is just as shiny and beautiful as Ivey's and her hair is tied up with a bandana wrapped around the crown of her head. They stand back, one of Scarlett's hands in yours, one of Ivey's hands rested on your arm as you have your first, in person interaction with them. The small group shifts to Phoebe and Cole, Ivey and Scarlett introducing themselves to the taller boy. You stand in a small, comfortable circle before Scarlett sighs,

"Well... you're getting your first taste of peer pressure. We're taking you to a frat party tonight. It's like their little intro party before club rush and initiation and all that. This party sort of shows guys what its like before they make the pledge." She explains, watching you nod. Cole scoffs,

"Like she'll need the peer pressure. Can she pledge? She could be there keg king." He jokes, making the other girls in the room laugh as you look at him and mockingly laugh,

"Oh ha ha, wonder where I learned that shit? Got it from my party animal big brother." You say, watching Cole stick his tongue out as you playfully punch his ribs. He chuckles and runs the area before heading for the door,

"Why don't you guys finish getting acquainted and get Y/N comfortable while I get the two other boxes." He says. You nod, as do the other girls before he leaves the room and the three of them turn back to you,

"Are you excited? Finally living on campus and getting into that college life. Its cool right?" Ivey asks. You nod,

"Yeah, it's a little scary being... away from home, but LA isn't even where my dad is living anymore so, home is technically here now. Mostly with Cole but... here too, with the three of you." You nervously explain. They all smile at you as you look between them, already warm and inviting. Phoebe holds her hand out and you take it, letting her pull you through your door and further down the hall. She points to a closed door on the left at the very end of the hallway,

"My room," She says as she opens it to show off an already decorated and beautiful white room, fairy lights lining the roof, "this is where we have movie nights cause I have a projector." She says, her nose crinkling. You nod and smile, spinning on your heels to follow her as she opens the door across from her own,

"Scarlett's room. This is where you'll most likely find hair or makeup products you need. Maybe your own, who knows." She jokes, smiling wider as Scarlett scoffs and you look around the room, nodding at the organized vanity and makeup selection set up strategically in a corner of the room. Leaving that door open as well, Phoebe brushes past you to open the second door down,

"Bathroom. Nothing too special. We kinda all share body washes and toothpastes and stuff. It's a community." Phoebe says with a shrug, closing the door before walking to the room just across from yours,

"And here," She says in a sigh, "is Ivey's room. She's got a boyfriend so... we have to warn you in advance that any howling or screaming you hear isn't a virgin being sacrificed, it's just Ivey and her thing. Also, we have to warn that anything you find that might be disturbing is... grounds for therapy so, we're here for you." She jokes yet again, laying a hand over your shoulder. You giggle as Ivey swipes a hand over her face, mumbling explicits and disgraced words. She crosses her arms with a flat expression,

"We very rarely do anything here and there is nothing that we do that will get us caught by any of you. In the two years we've lived together, I have never been caught." She explains. You, Scarlett, and Phoebe smile and giggle at her before she swallows,

"We haven't been caught here at least. But to be fair, his brothers are nosey and don't knock." She justifies as the other two girls giggle and snicker. You frown,

"Brothers?" You quiz. Ivey nods, moving back and forth from her toes to her heels,

"He's in a frat. The frat party we're going to tonight, it's his frat." She explains. You nod and turn to Scarlett as she starts to speak,

"His brothers are pretty hot but goddamn they're like little boys. Some of them have that whole douchebag thing goin, but for the most part they're all pretty hot." She says with a wink. You nod again as she looks you over, glancing up when Cole returns with two more boxes,

"You don't happen to have a smashing dress to wear in those boxes, do you?" Scarlett asks. You shrug, glancing back at Cole when he emerges from your room before you turn back the the group with a shake of your head,

"Guess not. I have some cute clothes but I don't know if they're frat boy impressing worthy." You say. The girls smile as Cole sighs behind you,

"We're already looking for frat boys to impress?" He asks, somewhat breathless. You shrug,

"Ivey's boyfriend is part of the frat that's throwing the party tonight and the girls all say his brothers are pretty good looking." You explain. He nods, looking between the four of you. Scarlett cocks her head,

“You’re so much more willing and open-minded than most older brothers who hear this kinda stuff talked about with their younger sisters.” She says. His eyes linger on her for a moment before he shrugs,

“I’m living my own life. I don’t have time to live vicariously through her too.” He says. You smile, binding your arms around his waist. He kisses your temple,

“BUT… I will kill someone that hurts her. I will kill a frat guy.” He adds making the girls smile. You glance up at him, crinkling your nose. There’s a moment of silence before Phoebe sighs,

"Well, going back to the outfit thing, if you wanna borrow some of our clothes to piece together a rockin outfit, you're more than welcome. We can take you shopping soon." She says. You smile and nod, thanking the group collectively before Cole reaches up to rub your shoulders,

"Wanna come get your bag from my car, walk me out?" He asks. You nod, turning with him and following him down the same hallways as before until you're standing at the curb, closing the passenger side door after retrieving your duffel and regular backpack. Cole sighs, hands tucked in his pockets,

"So when do I get custody?" He jokes. You smile, playfully leaning in to punch his stomach this time,

"I'll uhh... I'll come back Sunday maybe. I dunno yet. Depends on how I cope with all this new life stuff." You say with a shrug. He nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. He looks up, searching your face for a moment as you think,

"Just have fun tonight if you go. Let loose and make new friends, ya know? Don't think that college is strictly academic. But... just be careful. Don't set your drink down anywhere, anything like that. Ya never know who you're dealin with." He warns. You nod along to him, rolling your eyes,

"Common sense Cole." You say. He nods, pulling you into him, arms wrapped around your shoulders,

"I know, I know, but if you're drugged the first day you're here with me, dad'll most definitely force you up there in New York." He tells you. Holding him with your arms wrapped around his waist, you sigh,

"I'm not gettin drugged. I'll be careful." You reason. He nods again, kissing your temple before he releases you,

"Just do me a favor and text me when you go places if you can remember. Try to remember to text me like... at least five times a day so I know you're alive." You smile up at your mother hen like older brother who holds your hand, dragging out the last few moments you have together, today. You purse your lips,

"Yeah Cole, I will. When dad texts me asking if I'm alive every twenty minutes I'll make sure to shoot you a text." He chuckles softly,

"Alright, good. I love you." You stand on your toes to kiss his cheek,

"Love you too. I'll maybe see you Sunday." You remind. He nods as he let's go of your hand and starts to round the car,

"Maybe Sunday." He repeats before climbing into his car and starting it, driving off as you stand at the curb. Despite the short distance from his house to the college, your heart aches a little. Not just because he's leaving you after only having you in his home for a day and a half, but because after he left California, you two practically never talked. He texted you and called you every once in a while but that older brother that you talked about was all a myth once he came to Seattle and you were fearful of the same thing happening this time around.

Not dwelling on it to long, you make your trip back up to your dorm room with ease, nudging the door open with your shoulder. As you kick the front door closed and head down the hall, Ivey peeks her head out of her room, smiling at you. The rest of her body appears and she sighs,

"We're all just gonna be in our rooms. When you're ready you can come raid our closets. Something cute that shows you're available but still shows that you... mean business." She explains with a shrug. You nod and set your bags just inside the door,

"Cool. Thanks. I uhm... I'm gonna do some unpacking you say, suddenly nervous now that Cole's comfort and protection isn't there. She smiles again, nodding back,

"We're leavin here at six thirty, just be ready, okay?" You give a silent okay back before heading into your own room and unpacking what you can before they bombard you with twenty questions on what you're wearing. Settling on an oversized jean jacket and white tube top from Ivey and an army green suede skirt from Scarlett, the four of you are taking mirror selfies and heading out to Scarlett's car in record time, your heart thumping loudly in pure nerves as you head into the unknown. The second you pull up in front of the Psi Sigma Tau frat house, you seem to get lightheaded as your nerves amp up. Climbing from the car, Ivey rubs your shoulders,

"The boys are gonna love you. And trust us... none of them are... too bad of assholes. Tom is probably the worse but he won't fuck with new blood." Ivey informs. You nod, following Scarlett and Phoebe up to the open front door, watching Scarlett open the screen door and walk inside, the three of them never leaving you as they lead you to the kitchen. A group of boys turn, one of them, the same you and Cole ran into earlier. He smiles as Ivey approaches him, wrapping her in his arms. They share a kiss before he looks up, eyebrows furrowing as he spots you,

"You ran into me earlier." He reminds you, watching a smile cover your face as Ivey looks to you and he chuckles,

"You did?" She asks. You nod, tucking your hands in the pockets of the jean jacket you wear,

"Uhh, yeah, I did. Cole and I were coming around a corner, the same time he was and I bumped into him." You reminisce, your cheeks burning at the thought of always seeing him now that you know one of your roommates is dating him when you made a complete ass of yourself. He chuckles again, draping his arm around Ivey's shoulders as she wraps her arms around his lean torso,

"'S alright. I told you that already. No harm, no foul." He says, smirk never leaving his lips as his frost colored eyes linger on you. You smile and nod as Ivey sighs, reaching up to proudly place her hand over his stomach,

"This is my boyfriend, Harrison. He and his best friend Tom came here together from London." She explains, looking up at him. His eyes pull away from you to look down at her. He purses his lips as he hums, satisfied,

"Got watched by this one in English so I snatched her up. Left Tom as eligible bachelor. He was pretty pissed about that one but," he glances up at you again, "he's a little bit of a ladies man. Decent enough to be the douchebag one night stand guy." He says. You nod to show that you've been listening before Harrison looks you over,

"And… not that he has a particular type or anything, but you fit the curriculum for someone he'd be into." He adds. You shake your head,

"I'm not a one night stand type of girl. If anything, I want a boyfriend. So," you look around the kitchen and living room, "which one is Tom so I know to steer clear?" You ask, letting Phoebe turn you and point through the small crowd that's already started to form in the dark, strobe lit living room. Through it, you can see a perky blonde in a tight dress leaned against a wall, talking to a striking young brunette, tight fitted tee and jeans clinging to every muscular limb that he has to offer, a black cap hanging off his head, backwards, his cute yet prominent ears poking up past the hat. You swallow your tongue at the sight of him. He's gorgeous and you can already tell that it's easier said than done with that one when it comes to steering clear of him. As if he can hear your thoughts, he glances up, spotting you and Phoebe. Your heart stops as a smile crosses his lips and he waves softly, excusing himself from the blonde to head your way. Phoebe hums before releasing you and stepping forward to hug him when he steps into the kitchen. He sets his drink down on the counter, pressing his free hand to her lower back, the two of them talking back and forth, too quiet for you to hear over the music. All you can do is stare at his beautiful face in the new light.

He truly is stunning, cream colored face stealing your breath straight from your lungs. His skin, specifically his somewhat crooked nose and full cheeks are littered with cocoa colored freckles. He practically lacks an upper lip, but his bottom lip is somewhat plump and berry colored, kissable if need be. His nose is perfect despite the bend and cute, but his eyes are what really set you off. He has beautiful dark brown eyes that are accentuated through long, angelic lashes that flutter every few words uttered from his lips or to him from Phoebe's and they almost meet his thick, trimmed eyebrows, the end of one of them tapering up wildly. His forehead is nearly covered by the dark brown hair that is voluminous and fluffy and looks completely inviting despite the snapback he wears.

His eyes cut to you suddenly like he can feel yours on him, a soft, almost demonic, hungry smile crossing his face as his tongue comes out to wet his lips. The shift in focus to you has Phoebe turning to face you, eyes still locked on Tom to gauge his reactions to you. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, looking you over, the piercing dark eyes he's blessed with making you feel small in that one moment. And then he speaks in a somewhat deep voice enriched with a similar, tranquilizing European accent to Harrison's that makes your knees weak,

"And who do we have here?" You're broken from your thoughts by him. Phoebe turns to you,

"This is Y/N, Tom. It's the roommate Scar, Ivey, and I were talking about coming in today. She's at her first frat party ever." She replies, sultrily as Tom's eyebrows raising,

"Wow, look at you darling. Little daredevil like your roomies. Well... welcome. Your girls are some of the best here, I suppose you won't be any different." He directs to you. You swallow and smile, watching Phoebe cock her head,

"He doesn't bite Y/N." She says, her hand pressed to his stomach similar to the way Ivey did to Harrison. Tom closes his mouth to give a tight lipped smile,

"Unless you want me to." He jokes making Phoebe giggle. You nod and reach up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"Sorry... uhm... yeah, I wasn't gonna not come. I actually... think I need a drink." You say, suddenly flushed. Tom hums, looking over your shoulder,

"Why don't we slam some shots then, yeah?" He poses, pressing his hand to your lower back when you nod and follow, watching him and Phoebe pour out a row of shots. The three of you, Harrison, Scarlett, Ivey and a few other boys raise them. Phoebe sighs,

"To our ever growing group of friends." She says. You all say cheers before clinking the glasses and downing your shots. Most of the group shivers and retches at the sting, but you and Tom are primarily the only ones that don't and you don't catch it, but Tom watches you, his heart skipping a beat when all you do is set the shot glass down and lick your lips to ensure you got all of the alcohol your glass contained. You sigh before looking up wide eyed at Tom when he snaps at you,

"You're my kinda girl, get your pretty little ass over here and let's do a shot together." He demands. You glance around the group that's starting to break out into laughter before snorting,

"What?" The group laughs along with you, Tom's own face turning up into a smile,

"You didn't even flinch when you took that. Most people do. I like when a girl doesn't overreact. So let's take another shot together." He elaborates. After another moment, you nod, switching spots with Phoebe and watching Tom pour two more shots before he hands you one. You take it, only to have him lock arms with you, raising his eyebrows before the both of you throw your shots back, only hissing as it burns your chests. He steps back, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he looks at you again,

"Where the fuck have you been all my life?" He asks. You giggle, taking an opened beer from Scarlett and raising it to your lips,

"California, little British boy." You reply back snarkily, raising your eyebrows as he does, letting him watch you take a swig from the bottle you hold. A beer is offered to Tom, but he shakes his head,

"Nah, I got a game Sunday morning. With my luck I'll still be hungover for it, won't be able to focus." He explains, his attention shifting to the party in full swing out in the living room. You walk to lean back against the counter beside Ivey, the both of you leaning so she can be the only one to hear you whisper.

"Game? So he's the stereotypical douchebag frat boy that plays football or something?" You pose. She giggles, shaking her head,

"No, he's actually pretty cool, really. He and Haz play golf so they a game Sunday. I should force you to come so we can support them." She replies with a knowing smile. You hum, sipping more from your beer bottle as Phoebe and Scarlett talk Tom up, allowing you to get a better view of him without him knowing you're staring. You swallow, Ivey giggling again as she watches you watch him. You glance at her, searching her face,

"What?" You ask. She shakes her head,

"Nothin. Need a distraction from a cute little British boy?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod quickly, Ivey moving from under Harrison's arm, tugging him after her and headed straight for Scarlett and Phoebe,

"Girl dilemma ladies, its dance time." She informs the two other girls, both of their eyes landing on you before they nod and the group is excused from Tom to the middle of the living room where you find your rhythm with your roommates and Harrison, you holding Scarlett's arms around you as the two of you start to dance together.

Unbeknownst to you, Tom never strayed far. After the group abandoned him, he wandered to lean against the kitchen's doorway, eyes glued to your figure, lost in the music and your roommates. You've forgotten about him temporarily, but his mind is still fixed on you. He can't believe that the one girl that he wants more than anything just based off the concoction of sheer beauty, intelligence, boldness and valor, has just almost brushed him off. Most girls throw themselves at him and he doesn't have to ask for it, but you're different. And that's what attracts Tom the most. You're independent, tenacious and confident. You know what you want and he knows that you're the type to get it, thanks to your dad's own stubbornness you seemed to have inherited. If you were any other girl, he could've had his quick fix and been onto the next, but the way you entice him without even meaning to is what draws him in and keeps him in your clutches.

"Its impolite to stare." Another frat brother, Jeremiah jokes, bumping Tom's shoulder and effectively breaking him from his thoughts. His eyes don't leave you, but he licks his lips, Jeremiah following his eyes to your figure. Jeremiah hums,

"Who's the new girl?"

"Her name's Y/N." Tom replies almost immediately. Jeremiah blinks in surprise at the suddenness, looking Tom over. His eyes sparkle in the rainbow strobe lights that light the living room up as he watches you dance with your roommates. Jeremiah chuckles, Tom finally looking at him,

"What?" He asks. Jeremiah shrugs,

"You're the type to seduce a girl, take her to bed for one night and never talk to her again and here you are starin at this one like a fuckin tiger watchin a gazelle. What's so special about her?" Jeremiah asks. Tom shrugs, crossing his arms,

"She didn't even... care about me. Did two shots together and she didn't even care about how I started to come onto her." He mutters. Jeremiah hums, sipping the concoction in his cup, eyes crinkling at the sting,

"So she's smart. She stays away from you, she doesn't have to deal with the shit." Tom clicks his tongue, frowning as he looks at Jeremiah again,

"I'm not that bad."

"You made Delilah Rhodes cry like a middle schooler two weeks ago because you didn't call her back and she'd given you everything, including her virginity. You told her that you'd always be there for her just to get into her pants and the second you did, you dropped her." Jeremiah recalls, eyes finding you the same Tom's do. You're prettier than some of the girls Tom chooses. But he knows Tom. The second he gets you into his bed, he'll get over you. But it's about getting you there that Tom's obsessed with. Seducing you, knowing he's good enough to get any girl he wants and if he can't have you, his ego is gonna suffer a severe beating. Tom nods after a moment,

"I know, I remember." He replies nonchalantly. Jeremiah scoffs,

"What makes her different than Delilah then? Why couldn'tyou have stayed with her?" He asks. Tom's eyes linger on you for a few moments more before he looks to Jeremiah, eyes sparkling in mischief as he clears his throat,

"She doesn't want me right now like all the other girls, including Delilah did. You get that girl a little tipsy and she's out." He informs. Jeremiah looks his friend over, watching his attention divert to you again before he looks that way, sighing to himself,

"Poor girl isn't gonna know what hit her when you're done." He mutters, finishing off the drink in his hand before turning to the array of bottles behind him to make a new one. Tom is still entranced by you, unable to pull his eyes from your figure in the almost half an hour. A number of his brothers approach him and leave him to his stalking, and eventually Ivey is the first to spot him staring, leaning back to whisper in Harrison's ear. Gis hands wandering her body as he looks at his best friend, giving you a quick look over before he gives a soft chuckle and let's her lean forward into you, Scarlett, and Phoebe,

"Don't all look at once but... there's a creep watching you, Y/N, at your three o'clock." She informs. Glancing to your right, you catch Tom's eye, watching him lick his lips and purse them before looking away, almost as if he's embarassed that he's been caught. Scarlett clears hair from your shoulder,

"So what's the plan here babes? Are you giving him a show or inviting him?" She asks in your ear. You're panting, breathless from dancing. You let Phoebe slip your jacket from your shoulders, letting it hang in your elbows, her eyes locked in yours. The corners of her lips quirk,

"Fuck him... let him gawk." She says. You nod, holding her hands and feeling Scarlett's hands wander your hips. Your heart beats a little faster and you can't tell if it's because of the fact you're being watched by someone like Tom or because of the way you've been dancing since you got out here. One thing is for certain, you need another drink. Pulling Phoebe's hands, you tell her, watching her nod and hold your hand, leading you in Tom's direction. If he'd claimed that his heart didn't skip a beat when you and Phoebe beelined for him, he'd definitely be lying and he was convinced it showed in his face. Phoebe raised an eyebrow as you passed him, Tom's body turning with you, watching you sort through the alcohol on the counter and pour a drink of your choice in your cup. She leans across the counter across from him, crossing her arms and looking him over as he watches you again.

"Its creepy to stare Tom. Especially if it's a girl that doesn't know how you operate. How do you know she wants to be stared at?"

"There's nothing wrong with looking at her." Tom defends himself, eyes cutting back to her and then to you again when you shift to see the both of them. You look between them before throwing back the alcohol in the bottom of your cup before filling it with more and walking forward,

“So what, I’m like another target for you? New concubine because I don’t know who you are?” You ask. His eyebrows knit together before he scoffs and pushes himself off of the cupboard behind him, turning to face you and Phoebe,

"Did I say that? Just cause I'm looking, doesn't mean I wanna fuck you."

"So if I asked you to take me upstairs to your room, you wouldn't and then tomorrow morning, after I leave, you wouldn't completely ditch me?" You ask, standing against the counter full of alcohol. He looks between you before shaking his head softly,

“What makes you think you're my type to take you upstairs in the first place?"

"Oh please, you'd fuck a hole in a wall Holland." Phoebe chastises. Tom scoffs again, crossing his arms defensively,

"You know what, fuck you both.” He bites back before pushing through the crowd and heading upstairs, disappearing down the hall. You and Phoebe look to each other, your roommate giggling softly before she shakes her head in unsaid words. You feel instant remorse, concluding something about a man you’d just met. You were just following the lead of your girls, but it wasn’t right to be teasing him so early on. Especially when you didn’t know what he actually thought of you. Phoebe waits until you set your cup down to reach out,

“Come on. Forget about it, he’ll get over it.” She says, seeming to read your mind. You’re weary, but you take her hand and follow her back out to the dance floor, finding Scarlett, Ivey, and Harrison immediately,

“What was said?” Ivey asks worriedly, gesturing up the stairs. Harrison is just as interested and as you look between them, Phoebe catches on and steps in front of them, dragging your hands up to her shoulders,

“Drop it. He’s a sensitive little pussy and just like everything else, he’ll get over it.” She replies, eyes locked in yours. You focus back on her and Scarlett as she holds your hips again. And for another hour, you’re lost in the fun of a frat party with your new friends. There’s a dozen songs and a dozen drinks that your small group goes through. Phoebe, presenting herself now as the Tom of your small group discovers a guy that seems to take a liking to her, ditching you and Scarlett, not far, for him. Ivey and Harrison whisper back and forth a few times before they sneak off and its the three of you, plus one, tiredness starting to sink in not long after. You, Scarlett, and Phoebe find solace on a couch, sweaty and panting, Phoebe’s dancing partner long gone. She sighs, checking her phone,

“Should go find Ivey and get out of here.” She says, looking to you and Scarlett. You nod, standing,

“I’ll do it. I have to pee anyways.” You mutter, finding your way to the staircase and to a bathroom. Afterwards, you look between the two closed doors that line the hallway. Choosing the closest to the stairs, it clicks open and you push through it just slightly to peek in. Tom sits at a desk, small side lamp on. He looks up at the disturbance, frowning as you stand there, mouth slightly ajar. He surprised that seeing your face doesn't bother him considering your last interaction. But considering the number of fights he and Phoebe have had and they're still friends, he's not too surprised.

“Oh… uhm… sorry, I was looking for Harrison and Ivey.” You start. He hums and nods in understanding. He gestures over his shoulder with his chin,

“Next door. But uhm… I don’t recommend barging in like that. His headboard’s bumped the wall a few times already and trust me... walking in on them is terrifying. It's not like in the movies. They don't hide it.” He informs. You giggle, nodding, hand tightening around the doorknob as you anticipate what to say next as he focuses back at the work before him for a moment. He glances back up when you don’t move from the room. Swiveling in his chair, he faces you with furrowed brows,

“Was there something else?” He asks. Not wanting to push your boundaries too far, you straighten your body out, closing the door a small bit behind you for more privacy from the drunks in the hallway,

“Yeah. Uhm… I wanted to apologize for earlier. I-I thought it’d just be a joke, what I said, but… it was insensitive. I don’t know you and I’m sorry for joking with you and making it so personal.” You smooth out. He leans forward slightly, clasping his hands together. He gives a gentle nod,

“‘S alright. I shouldn’t have been staring. I was bein a creep.”

“No… no, I don’t mind. It’s kind of endearing and I just… I slandered you. My brother would’ve smacked the shit out of me for that one. So… I’m sorry. Hopefully we can… start over and get off on the right foot.” You clarify. He smiles softly, standing and starting towards you as you lean against the wall at your back. He sighs, pausing a few steps away,

“I appreciate it and I accept your apology. I think you and I will be A okay love. Just gotta get a little more socializing behind us.” He says, somewhat quietly. You smile and nod, pivoting on your feet,

“I like the way that sounds. You seem really cool.” You say. You share a smile, standing staring at each other for a moment. He tucks his hands in his pockets, shoulders tensing as he looks at his feet,

"I do want to officially apologize to you and I want you to accept my apology. It was creepy of me to stare and I shouldn't have been. So I'm sorry for that. I promise not to be a creep in our future endeavors." He swears. You smile and nod, reaching up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"Of course I accept your apology. We're starting over." You reassure, letting silence permeate for a few moments after Tom chuckles and nods before you sigh,

“Well… I’ll uhh… I’ll see you around then. I gotta… get Ivey.” You remind, watching him nod before you turn and open the door, closing it behind you and heading further down the hall. Knocking at the other closed door, you wait a few minutes until Harrison pulls it open, somewhat breathless and shirtless, skin flushed,

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?”

“Hey, uhm… I’m looking for Ivey. The other girls are ready to go home so… I just thought I’d come and see if she was uhh… ready or anything?” You explain, face reddening at how stupid the explaination sounds considering you know what your roommate and her boyfriend are up to and he knows you know. He smiles, glancing over his shoulder, behind the door,

“Uhm… yeah, I think I’ll bring her home later. We’re kinda busy at the moment.” He responds with a soft chuckle. You swallow and nod, cheeks burning in embarrassment,

"Right, yeah, sorry. Uhm... just... tell her I'll see her later and uhh... goodnight to you." You reply kindly, Harrison nodding and coolly reassuring you he will before he closes the door and leaves you to head back into the crowds downstairs, finding Phoebe and Scarlett, jackets back on and leaned against cabinets, waiting for you. When you approach, they both stand up straight,

"So what's up? Did you join them or something? You were gone a while." Phoebe chastises. You click your tongue, shooting her an unamused look as Scarlett giggles softly,

"No, I ran into Tom before I found them. He and I... cleared things up. We're starting over and giving a friendship another go." You say proudly, both girls nodding, impressed,

"Nice. He's a good friend to have but uhh... you better put your hormones back in their box. You end up as more than friends, he could break your heart." Scarlett warns. You nod, pivoting on your feet and soaking the information in. She sighs to break the silence between the three of you,

"Anyways, let's get home. We're takin you shopping tomorrow once Prince Charming drops Ivey off." She says, headed for the door with you and Phoebe in tow.

It was fun letting loose for the night before classes start. Your welcome party was successful and less drunk and destructive as the movies make it out. Though somewhat dramatic with Tom, you enjoyed meeting new people and establishing relationships you wouldn't have if you'd been a hermit. But Scarlett's words weigh on you somewhat. No matter what, you and Tom would have some sort of relationship. Whether you took the bait or not and spiraled into a love affair with the beautiful curly haired boy would change your life completely. It scared you, but the idea of getting in some trouble excites you and who knows, maybe you could establish a friends with benefits type of relationship with him for a little bit of fun without the stress of a strings attached relationship. To focus on school and all of the other life changing things that were being thrusted your way, maybe it would be nice to have someone to fool around with and rant to if need be. And why not make it the pretty little British boy that you know has his eyes on you? There wouldn't be any harm in that, right?

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pixelatedrose · 5 years

Note

Can you do 39 with prinxiety? Sorry if I'm being a burden - 🌯

Prompt 39 Prinxiety

“Listen it’s not really my fault i fell in love with him!! HE WAS SHIRTLESS!!”

Word Count: 3,799 (I got a bit carried away with this one)

Warnings: uncensored swearing, mention of a dead animal (Skip from “It wasn’t that he had never wanted to go before,” to “The memory left a pretty solidly foul taste in his mouth and made him shudder.”)

Camping

It was early August and Roman’s friends had finally convinced him to tag along with them to go camping.

“But there are bugs!!” Roman complained.

“So? Bugs are cool.” Virgil said, looking up briefly from his phone.

“Oh yeah?” Roman continued to whine. “Well I hardly took you as one who enjoyed camping in the middle of nowhere with zero cell service, Dr. Gloom!” Roman antagonized the emo boy.

Virgil stuck out his tongue at the sassy drama queen. “You’re just pouty cause we never asked you to come before because we thought you hated the outdoors.”

“I do not hate the outdoors!!” Roman scoffed. “I just don’t really find the idea of bugs and sap and burnt food and bugs very appealing.”

“Aw, Roman! Is this your first time camping?” Patton asked, calling from where he was placing an overfilled bag into the bed of Logan’s truck.

Roman flushed and turned away haughtily. “Well it’s not my fault my moms never wanted to go and sleep on the ground!!”

Patton clapped his tall friend on the back, smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, you’re going to have so much FUN!!”

Soon the truck was packed, with Logan helping Roman make sure that he had everything necessary. (“No, Roman, you won’t be needing your fantasy elf cloak.” “BUT WHAT IF THE DWARVES COME FOR ME?!”)

The car ride was long, Roman and Virgil sitting in the back with Patton sitting up front and Logan driving. Roman ended up falling asleep, his head resting against a drowsy Virgil’s shoulder. Patton, thinking this was the cutest thing ever, snapped a picture with the camera he brought along.

“Logan, look!!”

“Patton, dear, I am incapable of looking at whatever you wish to show me if I am to drive safely on this road.”

“Oh, right, sorry! Virgil and Roman fell asleep on top of each other, that’s all!”

“Oh. How lovely.”

“Logan why are you pulling over?”

“Revenge.”

Roman and Virgil woke up in different positions, Roman’s face pressed up against the window and Virgil having adjusted to leaning against his seatbelt. They also awoke to marker coating their faces.

“That’s for the cookies you two baked me last week.” Logan said when they had started freaking out.

“But it was funny!!” Virgil protested, rubbing at the marker hearts doodled on his cheeks.

“Cookies should not contain any- especially that much- pepper in it!! Consider us even, Ruiners of Sweets.” Logan seethed dramatically.

The ride from then on was filled with karaoke, Disney, and laughter.

When they arrived at the campsite, they tried to divide the work up. However, it became very clear that Roman had no idea what he was doing when he mistakenly snapped one of the tent poles clean in half.

“Whoops…”

Virgil sighed. “Great! At least I know how to fix it once I get home. I guess I’m sleeping under the stars tonight…”

Patton shook his head. “Nonsense!! There’s plenty of room in Roman’s tent for you to sleep in there!”

Roman nearly choked. “What?!”

Virgil just shrugged. “'Ight. But I’m setting up tents from now on. Roman can make the fire.”

“I do not trust that Roman will know an adequate way of starting a fire. Perhaps he can prepare food instead? It is probably something he should have been doing from the start seeing as I am not the best in the culinary arts.” Logan offered.

Roman nodded, trying to keep his head up. It was just his first time camping after all. He was a little upset by the fact that he was going to be sharing a tent with Virgil. Why? He wasn’t 100% sure. But it made his chest flare up and his face burn. The fact of the matter was that he was incredibly nervous about sleeping in very tight quarters with his very attractive friend of whom he’d subconsciously had a crush on since they’d met in high school. But he would never admit such a thing. Especially when it was still so subtle.

Dinner was finished, Roman figuring out how to cook over the fire after a few attempts, and with that, Patton took out his guitar and played songs that Roman hadn’t heard before, but the others seemed to know by heart. Stories were told and laughs were exchanged as well as shrieks in terror followed by evil giggles of delight. The sun was long put to rest by the time the fire simmered out.

The friends parted to their separate tents and the lanterns were put out.

Virgil unzipped the tent’s door, holding it open as if he were any semblance of a gentleman. “Just don’t you go falling for me because of this, Princey.” Virgil smirked, pushing Roman into the tent face first.

Roman fell and from the ground mumbled sarcastically. “Trust me, not a problem.”

Roman pulled a loose tank top over his head and turned to Virgil, expecting something similar. Except he found the pale boy, completely bare chested, reading a book in a position that had no right looking as attractive as it did.

“Finally done getting ready, Princey?” He asked, sparing a glance up at the now red faced boy.

Roman prayed that his colored face was hidden by the god-awful lighting in the now much too small tent. “Y-yep!!” Roman faked a nonchalant tone, trying not to stare so openly.

“Great.” Virgil said, his casual tone was only what Roman dreamed he had sounded like. “I’m going to finish this chapter and then I’ll turn lights out. Don’t wait for me.”

Roman tucked himself into his sleeping bag and turned away from Virgil, trying desperately to get the image of his friend’s surprisingly toned chest out of his mind. Did Virgil work out? He always looked so thin and stringy under his hoodie…

“Night, Vee.” Roman wrestled the words from his throat, his voice cracking, making him want to die a little bit more.

Virgil didn’t say anything and Roman, for the next twenty minutes, listened to the sound of quietly turning pages, all the while panicking at their closeness and, for the millionth time, trying not to think about Virgil’s lack of a shirt.

Finally, Vrigil put his book down and stretched. He panicked even more when Virgil seemed to lean over to Roman and he shut his eyes, years of practice in pretending to be asleep finally paying off.

Virgil leaned back and if Roman had his eyes open and had been facing the pale boy, he would have seen Virgil smile ever so fondly and sweetly, a light pink adorning his pale cheeks. “…Cute…” Virgil whispered quietly, not aware that Roman could hear him quite clearly in the silence of the night. Virgil flicked off the lights and, in a single line, probably made Roman fall irreversibly deep into the boiling pool of love. “Goodnight, my prince. I’ll love you tomorrow…”

In the dead of the night, Roman heard Virgil’s breath even out next to him.

Roman, red faced, turned to try and look at his sleeping friend, just to make sure, only to be met with a cute face not six inches away from his own. Even in the dark, Roman began to take notice of things he’d seemingly never seen before. Like how his dark hair faded perfectly into purple at the tips, making it look like purple flames. It made Roman want to reach out and fluff it about. Or the way his pale cheeks were impossibly cute and round, devoid of their usual makeup and beautiful. It made Roman want to hold his perfect face in his own imperfect hands. Or the way his lips curved so exquisitely, a soft beautiful thing. It made Roman want to lean forward and capture such flawless lips with his own.

“We have a big fucking problem.” Roman whispered to himself.

~~•~~

The next morning Roman woke up to the sound of pots banging.

“WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTY, WE’RE GOING TO THE LAKE TODAY!!!” Virgil’s voice had momentarily made Roman forget everything last night as it was, at the moment, the most annoying thing on the goddamn planet.

Virgil threw the tent door open, somehow letting more light into the small area. Roman tossed the edge of his sleeping bag up over his face in dismay. “Nooo….What time is it even…?”

Virgil stopped banging his pots for a half second. “About 8:45. When you’re camping, the sun’s your alarm, Princey!!” He trilled out in a sing-song voice.

“Why,” Roman complained, poking his head out of his cocoon. “Is the one time you’re cheery the one time I wish you weren’t?”

Roman opened his eyes and was met face to face with a sinisterly smirking Virgil, his figure framed in splashing golden light as he leaned in to get a view of Roman. “Because I live to be the bane of your existence, Princey!” He smiled all too brightly, and Roman was reminded of his ever growing problem as he felt his face heat up.

Patton poked his head in through the doorway, ruining the picture perfect scene Roman had before him. It wasn’t that he minded, though. No of course not. He wasn’t upset at all that the picture of Virgil with perfect golden light shining around him in a perfect, sunny corona was thrown off by a smiling Patton. He would never be upset.

“C’mon, Ro! It’s time to wake up!! Logan and me made campfire pancakes!!” Patton smiled. Virgil’s eyes lit up like Roman had never seen them light up before. A childish sparkle, like when a kid gets told they’re allowed to have two cookies instead of one.

Logan’s voice called from outside the tent. “It’s ’Logan and I’ Patton.”

”Yeah, yeah, whatever, Honey. I’m just excited for campfire pancakes!!”

”We all are, Pat! Campfire pancakes are the only thing Logan can make edible, and of all the things I’ve eaten, it would be the one that should be considered fucking gourmet!!”

Roman listened to his friends chatter as he got ready, suddenly upset he’d declined Patton’s offers for so long. It wasn’t that he had never wanted to go before, but he’d never been in the woods alone since his brother had forced him into the woods near their old house as children to show him a dead and rotting fox corpse. The memory left a pretty solidly foul taste in his mouth and made him shudder.

He’d complain about bugs and charred food for as long as he needed to. He wasn’t about to let slip that he’d been scared to go back into a place that reminded him so vividly of something so distasteful.

”And he rises!!” Virgil said theatrically when Roman emerged from the tent. Now that he could see better, Roman looked Virgil over. His hair was slightly tousled from sleep and he was wearing a plain, dark t-shirt. His pale face bore practically no makeup, save for the remnants of his eyeshadow that seemed to never go away. His smile was bright and happy, excited in a way Roman had never seen before now. It was at this time that Roman realized this was one of a very select few times that he’d seen Virgil without a hoodie or jacket on. He was pretty. Honestly, Roman thought he should have noticed how charming the tall man was before now.

Roman smiled coolly. ”Now where are those campfire pancakes I keep hear you guys yapping about?”

~~•~~

The pancakes were amazing. And after hiking to a lake, Roman was starting to think camping really wasn’t all too bad. The trail had ended, coming out to the view of a crisp lake with a sandy bank, driftwood strewn about the shore. A wooden dock with a rope swing attached to the end adorned the right side of the picture and a picnic bench decorated a small grassy patch a short distance away from the shore, save from potentially splashing children.

However the picturesque lake was absent of any and all people, leaving the entire lake to themselves.

”Wow…” Roman breathed out as the lake came into view.

Virgil smiled fondly at the starry-eyed man next to him, not that Roman had noticed. ”Yeah. It’s pretty sweet, isn’t it?” Virgil said, walking with Roman to towards the shore as Patton gleefully ran ahead to the dock and Logan crossed over to the picnic table to place the bag containing their lunches. ”This place was actually pretty abandoned when me and Lo first found it.”

Roman glanced at Virgil, who was smiling wistfully out at the clear water. ”Really?”

Virgil nodded, sitting down on a large piece of driftwood. ”Yeah. Our families would go camping together all the time when we were kids. One day we came to this old, near abandoned campsite and found this lake after hiking an all but completely overgrown trail. It was my mom that convinced my dad to buy up the site. It was fairly cheap, but my parents made it their passion project. I was about 15 years old when they finally finished it all.” Virgil looked over to Roman, his eyes filled with a gentle excitement. “It’s been our own little retreat ever since then! I can’t count how many times me and Logan came here to help work or even after it was done. This place means a lot to me.” He clapped Roman on the back, smiling delightfully. “I’m glad you came, Princey!” Virgil then pushed him over into the warm sand. “That’s enough cheese for today I think!! Race ya to the rope swing, theater dork!!” Virgil took off toward the dock and Roman, for once, was glad he had pushed him over and ran away.

Roman’s face and chest was ablaze. The way that Virgil seemed to treasure this place, wanting to share it with Roman, it made him unbelievably happy. The way the pale boy’s eyes sparkled and the way his usually lazy smile was bright and bold, it sent his heart aflutter.

“You fiend!!” Roman accused, scrambling up to his feet. “That’s not fair!!” He charged after Virgil’s dark hair, hoping to leave his dangerously growing adoration behind in the sand.

They took turns swinging off the rope swing and shoving one another into the water, splashing about in it’s cool waves a welcome sensation against the heat of the sun. Lunch finally came and they chatted and joked and told swapped stories until Logan declared that it was time they all headed back.

“Actually, Logan? Can I talk to you for a bit?” Virgil asked as they were packing up.

Logan raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Of course. Patton, Roman, you two can go on ahead of us. We will catch up to you later.”

“Sure thing, honey!!” Patton said cheerily, wrapping his arm around Roman’s shoulders, though because of the height difference, mistakenly pulled Roman down a bit in the process.

They chatted a bit until the subject of Virgil managed to come up.

“Virgil?” Roman asked, the thought of the green eyed man making him flush. When had that started happening? “I mean he’s great of course…I mean more than great honestly. Have you ever noticed how perfect his hair always looks, Pat? Or like how pretty he is just…everywhere? It’s infuriating!!” Roman looked over to his short friend. “Right, Pat….? Uhh…”

Patton wore a shiteating grin on his face as he smirked smugly at Roman. “I knew it!” Patton declared. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!!”

Roman’s face flared and his heart started to beat. “Knew w-what?! What did you know?!”

Patton jabbed a finger at Roman’s chest. “You’re in love with Virgil!!” He announced, his grin growing more and more excited and mischievous by the second, his golden eyes sparkling more and more from under his wide, round frames. “Aren’t you?!”

Had Roman been a balloon, he would have burst. His face was undoubtedly the color of a rose and his heart was beating far too loud for Patton not to hear it, he thought. Roman finally caved, giving a sigh. “Listen, it’s not really my fault I fell in love with him!! HE WAS SHIRTLESS!!”

Patton danced around the path way, spinning and chanting, “YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH VIRGIL!! YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH VIRGIL!!”

“Okay okay!! I’m in love with Virgil!! Now will you quiet down! What if they’re about to catch up?!” Roman said, mild panic pricking his heart.

“So what if they hear us?!” Patton stopped his dancing, facing Roman. “I mean Virgil’s already been in love with you for years now!!” Patton said excitedly, waving his hand as if it was common knowledge.

Roman’s life could have ended then and there. “He what-?”

Patton’s smiling face didn’t falter as extreme panic set his eyes ablaze. “Shit!!” He said in the most cheery tone a person has ever used to say shit. In fact, Roman could only count on two other times he’d even heard Patton curse. “You were not supposed to know that!!” Patton continued with his cheery voice.

Roman grabbed Patton by the shoulders, emotions swirling violently within him. “Virgil’s been in love with me for years?!” He asked, ecstatic panic dripping from his voice and flooding his eyes.

Patton’s smile did falter this time as he looked away, bashful at what he’d let slip. “Well, yeah…He never-”

Roman picked up the small boy and spun him around, laughing splendidly. “Patton!! You’re an angel from heaven!!” He bubbled. He set Patton down and hugged him tightly. A thought struck him and he separated from the small boy, not even having heard the blonde’s shouts announcing he couldn’t breath. “Oh god! I have to tell Virgil! I have to go find him!!”

Roman started to run away, but Patton grabbed his sleeve. “But what should I do?! We were supposed to get the fire going and dinner started! It’s beginning to get dark!”

Roman looked at Patton with desperate eyes. “I just realized how I feel about Virgil. I don’t want this to turn into a pining competition! I have to find him right now!”

Something in Roman’s voice must have convinced Patton because he let go. “Alright.” He lightly tapped his fist against his taller friend’s shoulder. “Go sweep him off his feet, Ro!”

And with that, Roman was off sprinting back down the trail.

He caught sight of Virgil and Logan walking down the path as the trail was beginning to darken with purple under the canopy of trees in the soon to be dying sunlight. Roman smiled and waved to them down the trail.

“Roman?” Virgil asked, a concerned and mildly frightened look glazing his eyes over. “Is everything okay? Did something happen? Where’s Patton? Is he alright? Is-”

Roman swooped Virgil into a spinning hug, not letting the boy finish his anxious rambling. “Oh, everything is more than just alright, my dark and stormy knight!” Roam laughed, holding on to his heart from around his waist, grasping him close.

Virgil’s face lit up with splashes of red and pink. “Uhm…?”

Logan looked between the two and smiled. “I’ll go on ahead and make sure Patton has some company.” He said, picking up Virgil’s discarded bag and turning to walk down the darkening trail.

Roman stopped spinning Virgil and let the green eyed man down, only just loosening his hold on him.

But to Roman’s utter dismay, as soon as Logan was out of sight, Virgil pushed out from Roman’s grasp. “What the hell, Ro? What was that?” He snapped, turning away from the taller boy.

Roman’s hopes sunk. Had Patton lied to him? No…Patton said he wasn’t even supposed to tell. It had to be true.

But Roman had to be sure. “Virgil, do you love me?” Fireflies were starting to swirl around them, lighting up like stray stars.

“What…?” Virgil stopped, looking back at Roman.

Roman stepped closer, beginning to realize how desperately he wanted Virgil to love him. “Are you in love with me, Virgil?”

Virgil looked away, crossing his arms over themselves.

The sounds of the forest settled between them.

Finally Virgil spoke, his voice shaky and choked. “S-so what if I am? I mean- I didn’t mean to- I don’t-” Virgil turned back to face Roman, his hands embedded in his head of thick, messy hair, his eyes shimmering with tears. “I assume Patton spilled…And I just didn’t want to tell you cause I didn’t want to lose you as a friend! I know you don’t feel the same way, so I was trying to be a good friend…I’m sorry if-”

“Goodnight my prince. I’ll love you tomorrow.” Roman quoted.

“W-what?”

“Last night. That’s what you said before you went to sleep. Can I ask why?” Roman stepped closer, the sun beginning to descend beyond view.

Virgil was caught between paling and flushing harder. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s the stupidest thing ever…” He started, though smiling. “Anytime we ever had a sleepover, or you fell asleep studying at my place or during a movie night, I’d say that. It was supposed to be this stupid ‘I can’t love you now, so I’ll love you tomorrow’ thing…Hella cheesy, I know…”

Roman stepped closer again and brushed Virgil’s hand, though the pale boy flinched it back. “Well remember when you said not to fall for you and I said it wouldn’t be a problem?” he stepped closer still, bringing his hand up to Virgil’s chin.

“Yeah…?” Virgil didn’t pull away this time, though his eyes remained glued to Roman’s chest.

Roman tilted his chin upward, looking into the gorgeous green eyes Roman never knew he’d fallen for. “Well I think I have a problem…” He leaned in even closer, and he swear he could almost hear Virgil’s heart.

Before Roman could try and capture his lips with his own, Virgil leaned forward and closed the distance himself.

Roman melted into the kiss and could have sworn he tasted raspberries on Virgil’s breath. Virgil’s arms found themselves draped over Roman’s shoulders and his fingers played in his hair as Roman drew Virgil closer still, never wanting to let go of the person he’d loved so dearly for years, blind to it as denial had taken hold of him.

And it was all over much too quickly as Virgil pulled apart just enough to speak. “I think it’s finally tomorrow…” He said, breathlessly, his eyes traveling from Roman’s chest up to his golden brown eyes.

Roman smiled and rested his forehead against Virgil’s. “I think I like tomorrow…!” He caught Virgil up in another kiss and the two blissfully fell into one another.

And Roman decided he quite liked camping, after all.

To my anon, you are never ever ever a burden!! I love writing! And as you can see, got a little carried away with this one! I really hope it’s something you like!!

#prinxiety #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts sides #ts sides fic #Roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #anon ask #🌯 anon #dialogue prompt ask #ask game #sanders sides ask game

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little-inukag-obsessed · 4 years

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Inukag Week - Day 7: Home

Finallyyy I’m here!! A week late and with still just half fic ready

But the most important thing is that I could be present in some way and starting my own journey with InuKag fics with this one^^ FYI, English is not my first language so be patient, I’m doing my best and count to improve even more. I tag @inukag-week and @clearwillow for the interest she showed in this project. Here we go!

Never Let You Go

She couldn't help the drop in her stomach when the ground started to crumble under her feet, making her feel helpless and desperate... She tried, with a final effort, to grab onto his suikan sleeve but it seemed already out of reach. A sudden roar made her blood ran cold and a chocked yell escaped her mouth:

«No!»

Kagome wide opened her eyes in a snap, her forehead covered in sweat, gasping for breath. It was just a thunder. A thunder woke her up from a stupid nightmare. The rain was pouring outside and the wooden roof of their hut was victim of that relentless shower.

The young miko-in -training took a deep breath. Yes. Their hut, their home. She was exactly where she wanted to be, togheter with Inuyasha, her well-loved Inuyasha, 500 years in the past. There was nothing to be afraid of. She could feel his left arm around her shoulders holding her tight against his torso, so the raven-haired girl moved away a little in the attempt to catch the hanyou's features, already picturing them in the deep slumber he still was in enveloped in their marital futon blankets.

She had to admit she oh-so-loved these little intimate moments when she was surrounded by his warmth and there was no need for words to explain what they meant for each other. All Kagome always wanted was just stay with him, be by his side, from the very moment she realized it she pursued her decision whole heartedly, fully aware of she was getting into with all the complications, even when the uncertainty and fear could take over... Because, after all, she felt that their bond, actually, was stronger than any struggle. She believed in him, in his heart. She believed in them two. In the meaningfulness of the journey they had togheter. Even when there could be no more chance to see each other again, she didn't give up hope.

A flash of lighting ripped off the gloom for a moment and its gleam reached Inuyasha's face too, revealing his relaxed and peaceful expression. Kagome laid a hand on his cheeck and stroked it softly. Seeing Inuyasha so in peace with himself always filled her with an unspeakable joy. It had been so hard for him learn to let his guard down, feeling safe, free from anything that could hunt him.

The first time she witnessed his face like that was in her time, in the home where she growed up, blissfully asleep on her bed. Kagome had to study that night for a test she needed to attend the next day and she would really appreciate getting some rest but she didn't have the heart to woke him up. It was a complete display of trust from him, so used to not show any vulnerability, so all the girl wanted was that he could enjoy that moment as long as possible. Finally, after three years of forced separation, they achieved to regain what they had lost so abruptly, but with something more. Inuyasha, indeed, got used to wear only his white hadagi while alone with her in their home and that was what he wearing in that moment. Kagome snuggled more against his athletic chest and closed her eyes, lulled by the steady breath of her hanyou, when a soft smile graced her features.

And now, look. Husband and wife. Kagome lingered in Inuyasha's warmth, letting his intense scent fill her lungs.

She would loved to have that scent all over her body... That thought made her chocolate eyes abruptly open again and her heart started beating faster. The young miko's mind drifted off to the day of their little but heartfelt wedding ceremony in front of Goshinboku where, more with gestures than words, they professed their enduring love for each other. Miroku took a shred of Red Fire Rat robe Inuyasha gave him and enveloped their hands togheter, blessing their union that would unbreakable like the fabric itself.

Once the two lovebirds arrived in their new home, that was actually a gift from the villagers for defeating Naraku, the newlywed put down carefully his young wife and then took her again in his strong arms, like it was tradition doing in Kagome's era, in order to cross the thresold of their love nest for the first time. So, a little taken aback, she asked:

From that precious moment two weeks were already passed, a month from her return, but... their marriage hadn't been... consummated yet. To be fair, it was their plan for their first night as a married couple, in their brand-new hut. In the fading light of the sunset, Inuyasha picked her up on his back and in blink they were gone, with no time to waste. How much she missed it, something that encapsulated how their intimacy grew stronger and estabilished over time, making it even more so significant when the hanyou explicitly stated that he would always carry her on his back from that point on and she didn't need that metallic horse anymore.

Being so close to him, feeling his warmth, breathing deeply the fresh air while Inuyasha was jumping so high like it was effortless, making her feel like she was flying. She was so happy and she would do anything to keep him as happy.

« What are your intentions...?»

« In that weird box with pictures that was in your house, I learned that bring your... wife like this the first time you enter in it brings good luck...» he replied, blushing slightly.

Kagome chuckled softly, flattered by such regard and still not very used to be called wife by her hanyou.

«So what are you waiting for, husband?» she playfully teased him with a loving smile.

«You never change, you are still the same annoying wench.»

«Is for this reason you married me.»

Once they were safely inside, Inuyasha placed down his wife for the last time and finally his warm golden eyes met the deep chocolate pools of the young miko from the future. Removing gently a strand of rebellious hair from her face, he asked, a little hesitant:

«Is.. is everything as you imagined...?»

«It is... and even better.» Kagome stated, still focusing her complete attention on his honeyed eyes, while her right hand had took its place on his cheeck making him came closer to her.

«Inuyasha...» she whispered when he was just inches from her lips. She closed her eyes when she felt his mouth clashing on hers, surrender to their mutual feelings. His right hand went down on her hips when she enveloped his neck with both her arms, raising on her tiptoes in order to get to reach his height. Their lips and tongues were now chasing, challenging, playing with with each other.

Kagome gaped for air and distanced a bit from him, lowering her gaze for then pointing it back at him:

«I love you.» Inuyasha took in his clawed hand her small right one and placed it on his torso, right on his herrating beating heart, adding:

«This beats for you, thanks to you.»

Those words after all they went through, his warm touch... She felt overwhelmed. The young wife couldn't help two teardrops escaping from her brown, now watery, eyes and slide on her candid skin.

«Don't cry Kagome, please.» were the soothing words of her husband, while his calloused clawed thumbs dried carrefully the two fugitives, for then resting there, cupping her face.

It was incredible how those hands could be lethal to a threat, but also so loving, caring with her. She loved his hands, how much as she loved him, even when Inuyasha himself couldn't stand them to be his. Kagome placed a kiss on his palm, reassuring him:

«They're tears of joy.»

Everything was so perfect, magical. They were feeling so damn lucky for being togheter in that exact moment, what were the chances?! The young-and-so-in-love wife was ready to give him everything, but, apparently, the stars still weren't alligned for such an event.

That very evening a plague of extremely insidious youkai locusts crashed on the village and Kagome, knowing Inuyasha by heart, realized that him couldn't get in the mood if he sensed she was in danger and even if Miroku and Sango could handle it, they couldn't leave the two alone, because they were a team. Plus they should keep an eye on Shippo.

Next to this unfortunate event, Inuyasha and Miroku had spent several time on trips in nearby villages to offer their services as demon slayers, so her brand-new husband had been away several days. Kagome, on the other hand, was still busy with her miko studies with the old Kaede, but the feeling of losing more and more occasions to be with Inuyasha was kind of hunting her

The clang of another thunder brought back Kagome in the present, so, she exaled a deep breath and freed an arm that was placed on his hanyou’s torso, placing the hand on the left arm that was still holding her. When they were togheter she always felt like that was her place, like in that exact moment, and was feeling her own the life she builting there, but this... tension with her beloved Inuyasha was starting to get in her head, making her prone, clearly, to convey it in shitty nightmares like the one of that night.

« Kagome...? »

To be continued..

#inukag #inukag week #late #i hope this doesn't sucks

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writemymemoir · 5 years

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Stowaway Pt 4. (The Mandalorian x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: Food and a fight

A/N:

Thank you all for the compliments. I see them all! Thank you for the support :)

If I have missed a tag, please pm me

T/W:

Blood, adult language, death.

Part 3

Part 5

The sounds of a heavy rain on the ship woke you. It was jarring. Living on your snowy planet for quite some time had made you get use to the quiet. Nothing was loud in the tundra where you had lived.

You heard footsteps coming down the ladder, Mando. He walked into your field of view, towards a closet between you and the freezer.

“We’re here,” Mando said, punching in a number at the keypad, opening a closet. You saw him pull out a rifle.

“And where is here, my dear friend,” You said, shuffling to the foot of the bed.

“One of Arkanis’s ports,” You frowned.

“You really know how to choose those nice tropical planets,” you groaned. Finding your parka, you put it on walking to Mando. Looking in the closet you found all different types of blasters and knives.

“Quite a collection you have here,” you said, looking at the view of the weapons. All the blasters were in pristine conditions, no sign of any ware. “Do you even use these?” You reached up to touch one of the smaller blasters.

“Don’t touch,” Mando said, voice hard. He reached to the right and you saw that was where your staff was. “You’re going to need this.”

“You’re trusting me with a weapon,” He turned to you.

“I’m trusting you with a lot more than that. Don’t make me regret it,” He said, looking back to the closet. “This is the plan. You take the kid in and get what you want from the cantina, I have my own thing to do.”

You looked at him, confused.

“Don’t you need to go to eat as well?” You asked.

“I can’t go into the cantina,” was his reply.

“Why would a bounty hunter be afraid to go into a cantina,” you said. He didn’t reply, just kept assessing his blasters, trying to find one he liked. You thought about, puzzled.

“Unless…” You thought aloud, “Unless you have a bounty on your head. That would explain why you didn’t hand in my bounty.” The pieces of Mando’s story started falling into place together. You felt proud of yourself for connecting the dots. “And I bet it has something to do with the kid.”

“Congratulations,” was all Mando said, voice void of any emotion. You scowled. Mando had apparently found the perfect blaster. Turning he made his way to the cockpit, looking towards it you saw the kid at the top of the ladder.

“You have to hand it to me, that took a lot of guess work,” you said putting your staff on your back and following him over.

“Make sure nothing happens to the kid,” He picked up the kid and handed him to you. “Keep him safe.” He turned to you suddenly. Startled, you looked up to his helmet, only a few inches away from your face. “If anything, anything, happens to him. I will hold you responsible.”

“Yes sir,” You almost chuckled at his seriousness. You watched as he walked down the corridor towards the ramp. “Now I know you think you’re a big bad bounty hunter, but it is serious to throw threats around like that.”

He turned to look at you.

“I am coming to believe you do not know what I am,” he said as he lowered the ramp down. You squinted your eyes at him.

“You going to come with me, little guy,” You said to Baby. He giggled as you lifted him and put him snuggly under your parka. Walking to the ramp, you joined Mando.

When you reached him, you made a show of looking him up and down.

“How could I know what you are if I never see you without that helmet?” Mando just gave a brief chuckle.

“Meet back here in an hour,” Was all he said as he walked down the ramp, into the gloom of the rain.

“Okie dokie,” you called out, carefully walking down the ramp.

___________________________________________________

You loved the rain, but that did not mean you loved this rain. This rain was harsh and felt like little bullets when it touched your skin. You had been here a few times in your travels over the years, however not at this part of the planet.

Although the walk to the cantina was short, your parka was almost wet through by the time you stepped through its doors. Unzipping your parka, you let the kid down to walk with you.

“Ok little one, lets get some food,” you said. All the kid did in response was look from you to the counter and started walking.

“Excited much,” you said to yourself, following the child. The cantina was not as packed as the one you had been in last. This part of the planet was mostly filled with lowlifes and was known to others as an unwelcoming place.

“What can I get you,” The worker didn’t look up from wiping the bench down.

“I would like two bowls of the daily soup, bread on the side if you have any,” You said, leaning up against the bench slightly. Handing the man a handful of credits, you watched him walk away to get the food.

You looked around and quickly spotted an empty booth, heading towards it you made sure to look behind you to the kid.

“Come on, we’ll go sit down,” you chuckled slightly, watching the kid struggle to keep up with you. The seats were far from comfy, but you weren’t complaining. Sitting the child on your knee, you began playing with him.

The child giggled and waved his three-fingered hands around, trying to catch your own hand. Leaning your head on your hand, you smiled at the kid.

“Here’s your soup,” Looking up, you took the soup from the man’s hands.

“Thank you,” You said, placing it in front of you and the kid.

You and the kid ate in silence. You mostly just thought of a plan. Staying with Mando was safe, but you were also sceptical about his intentions. You knew the only reason he was being hospitable was because of what you did in the fight.

You tried not to think about it, because every time you did, your head would ache from confusion. How did your staff get into your hand? You hadn’t heard anything like it.

You knew your best option was to stick with him. In the short space of time you had known him, he had shown you more loyalty than people you had known for years.

For the time being, you knew you were staying on his ship. That meant you had to get some form of food to stop you and the kid from starving.

Finishing up your soup, you got up, picking the kid up as well.

“You’re going back in the jacket, ok?” You said to the kid, he cooed in response. Taking that as an ok, you zipped up your parka.

The rain had seemed to get heavier, after asking the man at the bench were the closet store you could by rations from was. You had walking through the cantina door, and down the street to the direction of the store.

This planet was much like your previous one. The streets were muddy, and it was an effort to walk.

The walk was only meant to be short, but after 10 minutes of walking and ending up in a dead-end alleyway, you knew the man from the cantina had given you the wrong directions.

Turning around, you started for the main street.

Two buff figures stepped in the entrance of the alleyway; their frames black against the backlight of the street behind them. Through the gloom of the rain, you saw the yellow beep of a tracking fob.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you thought, I bet this will be fun.

“Told you we could trust him,” The figure on the left said, voice low and gravely.

“Shut up,” The second figure said, a higher pitch slighty.

“Can I help you,” You called out to them. Assessing them, you saw it was a man and a woman. The woman was light, less affected by the muck of the alley floor. The man was heavy set, powerful, but slow.

After a quick glance at each other, the duo began walking towards you.

You unzipped your jacket, and wrapped the kid in it, whispered a quick ‘Stay put’ and put him behind on the of dumpster behind you.

Grabbing your staff, you readied yourself.

“You guys are pretty slow, I don’t have all day,” You said.

“Cheeky,” The woman said. You bristled; this was going to end badly

Fucking Mando, I thought he got the chip out.

They were closer to you, you waited though for them to make the first move before attacking.

They stopped a few metres away from you.

“Now, we want this to be quick. Give us the Asset, and we’ll be on our way,” The man said, crossing his arms, arms bulging. Oh yeah, bare fist. You didn’t move, but your mind was going haywire. They didn’t want you; they wanted the kid.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news,” you drawled out,” But please, if you could, go fuck yourself.”

Jumping into action, you aimed at the man first. Hitting the man in the stomach with the butt of your staff, he stepped back. You came around to hit the lady over the side of her head, but she ducked easily and lunged at you. Side stepping her, you brought your staff around to wack her again, this time hitting your mark, she fell onto her stomach on the mud.

The man was already racing towards you, he managed to get a good punch to the side of your head, sending you to hit the wall of the alley. Pushing off the wall, you used your momentum to swing around the man’s front to come behind him and hold him in a choke hold. The lady had lifted herself off the ground and was reaching towards you, however the choking man tripped over her, sending all three of you onto the ground.

Trying to get a foothold in the mud, you scrambled onto your knees. The man was too heavy set to get proper footing, but the woman was already up and reaching for you, a knife in her hand, pulled from a hidden pocket.

Looking to the side, you saw your staff lying on the ground. It was too far away, just like your fight in the ship. The woman was coming closer to you, slipping and sliding from the unsteady ground.

You had to reach for your staff, there was no way you could win a close quarter fight against a knife. Huffing, you stuck out your hand, as if to pick up the staff.

You felt it. The energy that connected you and the staff. It was there, an unseen force vibrating the air between you and it. Pulling on the energy, the staff flew into your hand.

You had just enough time to bloke the woman’s offensive attack. The man was still sliding around, a frustrated growl was coming from his scrambling figure.

Breathing hard, you swung your staff, hitting true across the woman’s head. Snarling, the woman came at you, slashing you across the top of your chest with her blade. She was too unsteady to do any real damage.

She jumped again, aiming to land on you with her knife, but before she could, you pressed a button on your spear. Shining blades were revealed at either end of the spear. Digging one end into the mud at your feet, you lifted the end of the other, in line with the woman’s ark.

She was too committed to stop herself, or to change her course. You buckled under the weight of the woman as she impaled herself on the spear.

Turning her onto her back, you ripped your spear out and turned on the man. He was an easy target, struggling on the ground. You took the woman’s knife and pocketed it. Crawling to the man, you swung your bladed staff.

Collapsing to the ground, you hung your head.

Your legs shook with the effort of the fight. Black dots were racing across your vision, no doubt through the use of what ever power you had.

You turned your face to the rain, breathing hard. You don’t know how long you stayed there, on you knees in the mud. The rain didn’t stop, soon all traces of blood was washed off your skin. However, blood still stained your white undershirt where the lady had cut you.

After some time, Baby had made his was to you, still huddled under your parka. He was quiet, not making a noise.

Soon the sun set, and still you couldn’t make yourself move. The only thing keeping you from falling to the mud was some will to be alert, to protect the child.

You heard footsteps walking towards you. Your muscles screamed as you moved to block Baby from view. Lifting yourself into a fighting crouch, you dropped your head to see your opponent.

You could only see the silhouette of the someone moving closer. You tensed, whipping your staff up and baring your teeth.

“It’s me.”

Mando.

You slumped, silently rejoicing in the monotone voice of Mando. Crouching down in front of you, he pushed aside the parka to look at the kid.

“Let’s go back to the ship.”

“I can’t move,” was all you could say. Now that Mando was here, the adrenaline that had powered your body for the past few hours slowly faded. The black dots that had continuously danced across your vision grew larger.

Mando sighed, then lifted you from the ground in his arms. Picking up Baby, he rested him on your lap, doing his best to protect you and the kid from the rain with your parka.

Your head dropped back, as you looked into the sky filled with rain.

Tags:

@lamnothome

@aeryntheofficial

@maldo559

@benakenalove

@avengersgirllorianna

@thefandomzoneisdangerous

@n-black

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #star wars

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

Text

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 6

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Phobias

Summary: When Wei Ying wakes, they have a long-overdue conversation.

Note: See end.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

———

Lan WangJi stirs naturally at mao shi, confused by the feeling of someone against him at first. Wei Ying is still curled in his arms, his face pressed against his chest, one hand fisted in his robes.

When he tries to disentangle himself, it’s more difficult than expected. He finds Wei Ying’s other hand is clinging to a lock of his hair, and both fists tighten at the movement.

Then Wei Ying stirs, jerking back immediately and yelping, “Dog!” as though still trapped in his panic of the night before.

Lan WangJi finds himself pulled part way with him, as Wei Ying neglects to release his hair.

“Eliminated, Wei Ying,” he says softly, watching the bleariness of sleep slowly fade from his eyes.

Thankfully, the remnants of last night’s panic fade with it, and Wei Ying lets go of his hair, wincing in sympathy as he realizes he’s pulled it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

“There is no need, between us,” Lan WangJi gently reminds him. “I did not realize you were afraid of dogs.”

Wei Ying flinches, and he realizes the fear is strong enough that he reacts to just the word.

“Wei Ying?”

He keeps his tone soft, a request, but one that can be ignored if he so wishes. Instead Wei Ying sighs, and reaches down to pull up a leg of his trousers, revealing flesh marred by old scars.

“The other one is the same,” he says. “And they go higher. Living on the streets means fighting dogs for food. You learn pretty quick they’re mean.”

“How long?” Lan WangJi asks, trying to keep the horror from his voice.

Wei Ying shrugs, rolling his trousers back down.

“I don’t remember. A few years. I didn’t keep much track of time. Too young when my parents died, and no one really knows exactly when that was.”

He can see Wei Ying shiver, and wraps the blanket around him.

“It’s only mao,” he tells him. “You can sleep longer.”

That gets a grimace. “Not likely to sleep. Even if you got rid of that damn thing. I’m surprised it didn’t give me nightmares.”

“Of your childhood?”

Lan WangJi knew he had cried out about dogs in his fevered sleep, but that was during a fever. Though, perhaps, after trauma…

Wei Ying shakes his head.

“I never told you. In Nightless City, when Wen Chao took me for ‘questioning’...”

He trails off, his mouth a thin line, and draws the blanket around him tighter.

“When I didn’t have information on the missing Yin Iron he put me in qi-suppressing chains and tossed me in the dungeon, in a cell with a very hungry dog. So big its teeth were level with my face.”

Wei Ying smiles, but it’s without mirth.

“Said if I was still alive in the morning, all would be forgiven.”

Given what had happened only hours ago, Lan WangJi doubts Wei Ying, even with his qi, could have fought effectively. Wen Chao wouldn’t have known of his crippling fear, but had not expected him to survive regardless.

He remembers that morning, the blood on Wei Ying’s skin, the rips in his clothing, and his show of flippancy. But he also remembers he had been quieter after that, putting on a mask of carelessness, but also careful to toe the line.

Suddenly Wei Ying’s fear of dogs in the delirium of fever has a new context.

“You survived,” Lan WangJi comments.

Wei Ying laughs shortly.

“Only thanks to Wen Ning. He knocked it out with needles, and gave me energy boosting medicine and herbs to stop the bleeding. I was able to save some of the herbs. That’s why I had them in the cave.”

For a moment, silence stretches between them, and Lan WangJi reflects on the scene Wei Ying had caused at the banquet, his anger and grief at Qiongpi Path. Wen Ning, who had also saved Jiang Cheng from Wen Chao after the fall of Lotus Cove, who had sheltered them.

Wen Ning, who the Jins and many of the other sects would, and had, happily killed. Just as, he suspects, they would Wei Ying, particularly with the prize of the Stygian Tiger Seal. Jin Guangshan’s obsession with it bothers Lan WangJi, with his zhiji now unprotected by a sect, alienated from the cultivation world.

“I would have died in that dungeon,” Wei Ying comments, “a warning to all of you to behave, if he hadn’t stepped in.”

Lan WangJi tries not to imagine it, but he can, all too easily. Instead of Wei Ying joining the line at indoctrination and complaining of hunger and boasting of his glorious scars, his corpse being dragged to be dumped in front of them.

Wei Ying’s death would have crushed him, he thinks. With his brother missing and father and uncle injured, his sect decimated, the promise to Lan Yi broken… to lose Wei Ying at that point would have destroyed what was left of his sanity.

Lan WangJi, too, owes a tremendous debt to Wen Ning.

“But maybe they wouldn’t have attacked Lotus Pier, then.”

It’s barely a whisper, one so filled with grief and guilt Lan WangJi is reaching for his arm, gripping it through the blanket, before he realizes it, imaginings of Wei Ying’s bloody body in various states of brokenness on the steps of Nightless City haunting his mind. He can feel the tension in his body, as though Wei Ying is on the verge of shattering.

“Wei Ying. They would have attacked regardless.”

“They were just going to make it a supervisory office at first. If I was punished.”

Lan WangJi isn’t sure he wants to know what that entailed, but he asks anyway.

“Punished?”

Wei Ying shrugs. “My hand. It would’ve prevented the massacre. I think Madam Yu was going to do it, too. But then they mentioned Lotus Cove becoming the supervisory office.”

He feels a chill at the idea of Wei Ying mutilated like that, of having never heard him play the dizi, of the pain he would have accepted for the sake of others. This image, so quickly on the heels of the previous… He knows Wei Ying would have given his core anyway, even with such an injury.

“Wei Ying, they only would have started with your hand,” he says softly. “They would have come back and wanted more.”

He receives no response, and he knows nothing he says will convince Wei Ying that the fall of Lotus Pier, the deaths of the disciples and Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan, perhaps even the war itself… None of it was his fault. Worse, he knows Wei Ying would feel any loss on his part would be acceptable, that Wei Ying always feels thus.

But he can’t help himself, and can only try anyway.

“You lost enough in the war, Wei Ying. Wen RuoHan was to blame for the fall of Lotus Pier, not you. Likely he was only defeated because of your contribution and sacrifices.”

Wei Ying had been avoiding looking at him, but his gaze lifts to meet his finally. His eyes shine as though he is on the verge of tears, and there’s a tightness in his jaw. He had this look months ago, during the hunt when Jiang YanLi defended him publicly against the ugly accusations of Jin ZiXun. He truly isn’t used to being defended, to being valued.

Lan WangJi takes a moment to collect himself, to find words.

“I wish you had not suffered as much as you did. I wish you did not suffer still. You do not deserve to suffer, Wei Ying.”

Normally he would expect Wei Ying to be flippant, to make light of everything, but for once his zhiji has let himself be open. Lan WangJi can only hope it means he has regained his trust, but it could simply be the early hour and weariness following the panic of the dog spirit.

“‘A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up.’” He tightens his hold on his arm. “You cannot shoulder the burdens of the world yourself. Let me help you.”

Silence stretches between them for a short while.

“Lan Zhan, do you think you can help me?”

A year ago, the question would have been asked in a hard voice, defensive. Now, Wei Ying’s voice is so small, as though he wonders if anyone can help him. It tears at Lan WangJi, reminds him of how very late he is, reminds him of when he asked Wei Ying to let him help before, and failed to see it through.

He can find no words to answer; instead, he decides to let his guqin speak, let the music speak, and hope his zhiyin truly understands. He lets go of Wei Ying’s arm and manifests his guqin, begins the gentle melody of “WangXian.”

Wei Ying relaxes by increments as he plays, easing to lean back against the wall of the cave. Lan WangJi runs through the song twice, then stills the strings, dismisses the instrument, and waits quietly.

“I remember where I heard that now,” Wei Ying says, breaking the silence left in the wake of the music. “The cave. After we fought the XuanWu. You sang for me.”

“Yes. You were ill from your injuries, from infection.”

Wei Ying hums softly, his eyes closed as though remembering.

“I think I asked what it was called, but I don’t remember the answer. I must have passed out.”

So he truly hadn’t heard; his behavior upon his reappearance had been unconnected to what Lan WangJi had thought was his confession.

“You were delirious with fever,” he tells him, hedging. “Do you know the significance of the Lan forehead ribbon?”

Wei Ying frowns at him, clearly confused by what appears to him to be a change of subject, peering at him through the dusky gloom of the cave.

“Something about restraint. No one’s supposed to touch it.”

Lan WangJi sighs softly.

“‘To regulate oneself,’ more precisely. Only family and cultivation partners are permitted to touch it.”

There’s a minute change in Wei Ying’s expression, but he can’t quite see well enough in the dim lighting to tell what it is. He pulls a talisman from his sleeve and activates it, lighting the candles that line the cave on small juts in the stone.

“Do you remember the Cold Spring cave?” he asks, pressing on, watching his face.

Wei Ying is silent, but his brows knot. It takes less than a minute for him to realize, his lips parting in shock.

“We bowed,” Wei Ying whispers, his voice hoarse. “That was a handfasting? I didn’t know. You never said.”

Lan WangJi doesn’t know how to reply, so says nothing.

“Why didn’t you?” Wei Ying looks confused now. “It’s not… We never… You can have it annulled.”

He tries to find the words, anything that would help him convey what he means, but speaking is not his forte, especially with Wei Ying trying to point out the marriage is technically not valid because it was never consummated, which isn’t the path his mind needs to embark on at the moment.

“I did not wish to,” Lan WangJi finally says. “I still do not.”

Wei Ying stares at him, looking frozen, as though the words have paralyzed him. He still looks confused, uncertain. Lan WangJi returns to the music.

“The title of the song is ‘WangXian.’”

Wei Ying’s reaction is a small intake of air, almost a gasp. Emotions flit across his face too fast to decipher, before he hides it in the blanket.

“Lan Zhan.”

His voice is muffled and rough.

“I can’t cultivate to immortality anymore, Lan Zhan. The resentful energy… you were right, when you said it harms the body and mind. I don’t know if I’ll even… if I’ll even have a mediocre lifespan. I’ll leave you.”

Nowhere in what he has said, Lan WangJi realizes, is a rejection. Rather, it’s an attempt to convince him that Wei Ying isn’t good enough, isn’t worthy. To remind him that Wei Ying accepted a shorter lifespan and pain to help his brother. As though his selflessness would ever make him unworthy.

Lan WangJi reaches out, grasps Wei Ying’s arm under the blanket again. It is still painful to be reminded of the fleeting time they’ll have, but at the same time it makes what he has to say more important, makes the idea of wasting any more devastating.

“Then I will find you again in your next life, and every life thereafter if necessary,” he promises.

He recognizes the sound Wei Ying makes in response as a choked sob, and pulls him close, into his arms.

“You deserve better,” Wei Ying mumbles against him, still hiding his face. “I’m not—”

“Wei Ying,” he interrupts, not willing to hear his zhiji put himself down. “I want only you.”

Wei Ying’s breath hitches, and he finally looks up, his face wet, his lips trembling. Lan WangJi abandons decorum, reaching to card one hand in the hair below his ear, curling his fingers at the nape of his neck, and leaning in to kiss him.

This first kiss is clumsy, as he isn’t quite sure what one is supposed to do with one’s lips, and it doesn’t seem Wei Ying is entirely clear on it either—but Wei Ying is reciprocating. He’s reciprocating, and Lan WangJi’s heart sings with the understanding that this is truly not rejection.

When he pulls back, Wei Ying looks startled, flushed, maybe even shy. But he doesn’t seem to be crying anymore, which Lan WangJi counts as a win.

He finds himself relieved when Wei Ying softly teases him, that he’s moved away from the brooding and seriousness that has plagued him since they woke. He’s been pulled out of his melancholy depression, and there’s a kind of power there—Lan WangJi did that.

“You stole my first kiss,” he murmurs, his voice almost coy. “You’ll have to take responsibility.”

“Mm,” he agrees. “I did when we were fifteen.”

Wei Ying’s startled laugh is like music to him, and he pulls him gently down onto the pallet to kiss him more.

All else can wait.

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

AND THEY WERE HUSBANDS. I’ve been thinking about this chapter for a couple weeks now. Glad it’s finally written.

“A candle illuminates others at the cost of burning itself up” is a Chinese proverb I felt fit in this situation.

#my fanfiction #the untamed #untamed fanfiction #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #cql fanfic #cql fanfiction #untamed fanfic #lan zhan #wei wuxian

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entomancy · 4 years

Text

(Fic) Daywalkin’ in Vegas

...let’s be honest, this ‘short backstory fics’ thing has done what my writing tends to do, and Escalted. So let’s escalate.

Title: Daywalkin’ in Vegas (Wattpad) Setting: Increasingly not even serial-numbers-off-VTM. VTM infact exists in-world as a gaming system, which really annoys Fancy Vampires. Warnings: Gore; depictions of violence/ death against a child. Words: 6537 Summary: A failed siring gets the attention of two very different parts of Vegas Below; and a young blooded nosferatu puts herself in the centre of a dangerous balance.

Beep.

Twenty-eight forty.

Beep.

Thirty-one seventy.

Beep.

Nox watched the till display tick up, comparing the total to her mental tally. She had enough; she knew she did. It might have been in tattered bills, tarnished coin rolls and bits of change so old they were chipped like gears around the edges, but she was always real careful to plan these trips down to the grubby dime. In and out, as unobtrusive as possible.

Beep.

A final bag passed, the green-yellow numbers flickering one final time. The cashier smiled in customer service plastic as she read out the total, then followed it with a look of awkward concern.

“That’s all for you? We - er – we have some good specials,” she said hesitantly, nodding towards the little stack of brightly-labelled packages beside the register. It was mostly sweets and tampons, and Nox bit back on a grin at the sight. Nice thought, but that hadn’t been her ‘bloody’ problem for a while now.

“That’s it,” she replied, adding: “Thanks, though.” Sure, it was an upsell, but a kind one. The girl even managed to keep back any disgust at the state of some of the cash; it had been cleaned up, but people didn’t tend to drop crisp ones into a cup on the sidewalk.

Nox carried everything out to the repurposed shopping cart that she’d left just inside the little bodega’s doors. The thing was unbalanced and took corners like a drunk, but it was better than playing pack mule herself. The new bags settled down on top of the day’s earlier buys: bulk discount batches of toilet roll, bleach and superglue, along with cheap fabric for bandages. Plus, now, thirty-eight dollars and eighty-six cents’ worth of the cheapest mince and frozen shrimp available within a four-mile radius.

There had been a time when she’d had to worry about dietary fibre. Or vitamins.

The cart’s wheels creaked and rasped on sidewalk dirt as she headed it away, hunching down over the handle as she pushed; partly for more control, mostly to keep her face in shade. Her battered baseball cap and hoodie did a pretty good job – accompanied by garish plastic sunglasses and a stained bike mask – but every little helped. It also added to the overall ‘bag lady out on an afternoon shuffle’ aesthetic she was going for. The trick was to inspire just enough awkward pity to be invisible, but not enough to be a target.

Apparently, her act was off today. She’d just turned a laborious corner, distracted by trying to keep the bags all stacked, when she felt a hand clamp down onto the top of her head and yank hard. She didn’t move, but the hood pulled away and she heard a yelp of disgust even before she swivelled around. Two young men stood behind her, gawking in revulsion at the revealed state of Nox’s scalp, in all its piebald, peeling, erratically-thickened glory. A thin braid slithered down her face, torn too-easily free along with the hood.

She gave the scene one more heartbeat to really settle in, before grinning widely. Faced with a mouthful of teeth like broken ivory, the youths managed to look even more horrified.

“Aye, that’s how I caught it too!” Nox cackled theatrically, before snatching the hat back from now-unresisting fingers and jamming it back into place. “Don’t go scratching yerself anywhere pretty fer a bit, eh?”

The lad – and his already-retreating backup – hesitated, then let out a string of bravado-born obscenities. Freak – gross – blah blah blah I-have-a-tiny-dick blah. He kicked at the cart as he started follow his friend, and Nox let just enough spill out to sate the petty spite.

Once they had gone, she picked up the packets again and began to fix her hood. The exposed skin was stinging and smarting already, a poison-ivy prickle that calamine wouldn’t touch. At least it was late enough in the afternoon that she probably wouldn’t blister from the exposure. More annoying was the missing chunk of hair, and she probed at it gingerly. No deep wound, thankfully; which probably meant that the straggly braid had been almost ready to fall out anyway. She tended to keep about half a head of hair going, on average; so it’d grow back.

The lads were long gone by the time she was ready to set off again. With any luck she’d be nothing more than an awkward moment in a day of shoving their weight around; quickly forgotten. Being gross in the eyes of idiots wasn’t a Breech, after all.

The rest of the trip back was uneventful. Streets gave way to alleys, sidewalks to cracked paving, to rotting asphalt, and even the graffiti began to wane as she got closer to home. The main occupants of this ass-end of nowhere – a ghetto’s dumpster of a place – didn’t exactly make it their business to advertise where they were. Those that needed to know; knew. Those that knew, generally didn’t care – which was honestly a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Nox had heard the stories of what it had been like only twenty years ago. It was strange to feel that there was any sort of luck to her history, but six years wasn’t twenty.

Reaching a gap in an otherwise unremarkable wall, she glanced around quickly, making sure that no one was watching. Then she straightened up, gripped either side of the overloaded cart, and hefted it up through the broken brickwork in one smooth movement. She vaulted in after it, dropping down into cool shade, and let out a sigh of relief as the accepting touch of Karloff’s Invitation washed across her. The sense was like a door opening in welcome; like taking the first familiar turn towards home after a long day’s drive. It also meant no more unwanted attention – without that explicit permission, you’d never be able to recognise the entrance, or even keep your attention on what you were looking for. She was as invisible now to all other turned-aside eyes as everything else within the Invitation’s borders.

A few more rattling corners later, Nox finally turned into the Homestead grounds. The whole area had once been a crammed-in mess of squat apartment blocks, copy-paste civic solutions built without charm to fill the need for cheap rooms. The Homestead was the only one of its kin still standing, now surrounded by an opened-out area of recent amateur demolition and scrap-built fencing. Bright splashes of street art cut across sagging concrete and the blacked-out eyes of the windows, although the tags and themes chosen indicated the difference between these creators and the more standard ones of the world outside. Most of this had been painted at night, for example, with rather more variety on the theme of ‘hands’ grasping the tins.

There was a lot more inside, and below, but she felt a particular warmth at these murals. Out here, on the surface. Bright in sunshine that most of them could never see. The Nosferatu might be Vegas Below’s crusty little secret, but they were damn well there.

Bits of cracked paving clicked and skittered beneath the cart’s wheels as Nox made her way through the fences and to the big, bolted main doors. There was a rough porch built around the frame, mostly to give extra shadows, and she looked up at the tiny glints of watchful glass sunk into the surrounding wall. She waved.

“Dimestore-Blade’s grocery delivery,” she announced, and listened to the familiar rattle of bolts start on the other side of the door. A few moments later it swung open and a hunched figure peered out, wincing back from even the thick porch shade. This was Max; an older woman than Nox in both kinds of age, who managed her marks via a combination of extensive bandaging and even more extensive needlepoint. Watery black eyes looked past her, squinting through a gap in the heavily-embroidered scarf wrapped around her head.

“All okay?”

Nox nodded and lifted the trolley over the threshold.

“Fine.” She didn’t mention the youths. Didn’t seem a lot of point. “Let’s get this lot into the freezer before it can walk on its own, yeah?”

Safely inside the slightly-fetid gloom of the entrance, Nox took the opportunity shed her bag-lady layers. True, she couldn’t actually overheat, even on a Nevada afternoon, but being swathed in that many layers was still claustrophobic. Beneath the mismatched fabric strata was an increasingly-threadbare pair of yoga pants and a dark vest, and Nox gave a small sigh of relief as she folded up the rest of her daylight-drag, shoving it onto a shelf nearby.

“Right,” she muttered, as much to fill the air as anything else, and turned back to the trolley. Max had already transferred much of it into precarious piles in her own arms. Her scarf had slipped down, revealing a hairless head webbed with splitting skin; much of it made whole again with patterned patches of colourful thread. The fabric discoloured over time, of course, but it reduced the leaking.

Balancing their burdens, the pair made their way further into the Homestead. Closest to the entrance was the most decrepit part, occupied mostly by shelves and old furniture crammed full of clothes and patched umbrellas for venturing out, and with years of dumped debris building up in corners. Rooms with windows – even those as thoroughly blacked out or bricked up as these were – mostly housed the rat runs or storage, because no one wanted to spend a lot of time somewhere where crap mortar could result in dayburns. Similarly, the roof and most of the top floor was given over to pigeon roosts and No avoided them whenever possible. She’d never much liked pigeons before this, and she still held that even their vitae tasted of garbage, somehow. Still, they were much dumber than rats, and they did lay eggs, so that helped.

The really lived-in part of the Homestead was underground. Everybody knew Nosferatu lived in the sewers, right? Okay, so Nox would admit she hadn’t much understood the difference between ‘sewer’ and ‘storm drain’ before her life had taken its scabby turn, but she sure did now. Vegas had extensive storm drains – large concrete tunnels that lay under much of the city, designed to quickly shift heavy rain away from the tarmacked surface above – and they were ideal: underground, dark, not monitored.

And not actually full of shit.

The arrangement used to be… messier, Karloff had told her. When they hadn’t been so organised; when they’d lived closer together with others who had slipped through the cracks Above. Some of the Family had started off as those same ‘unfortunates’ after all; those who were aftermath-sired in a broken frenzy, or from the bloody jaunt of some fuckfang cutting through the ranks of those who wouldn’t be missed. Splitting their claimed tunnels off from the main circuit and establishing the Homestead proper had happened later, after the Vegas Accord had given the Nosferatu a Clan-status, and hunting them for sport stopped being an acceptable weekend activity.

Six years sure ain’t twenty.

Max chatted away as they walked; an idle litany of gossip, social media tidbits and reports from watchers all over the city, woven together into what Nox tended to think of as ‘Radio Max’. Spying on people was apparently another nos stereotype; but honestly when you didn’t really sleep, were functionally invisible to large portions of society, and had worked out how to divert half-decent broadband from badly-secured leisure networks overhead, it wasn’t difficult to get ahead on current events.

Plus the rats, of course.

Information was power, and they had precious little of any other. Although Nox sometimes wondered how much of those scant threads of power that Karloff put such value on would diminish if Clanpires in general figured out how to just Google things.

They had reached what she thought of as ‘mainstreet’ of the Homestead tunnels – a long space with concrete pillars linking floor to ceiling every thirty feet or so, quite cheerfully lit by a mishmash web of light fittings rigged up overhead – when yelling broke out further down. Nox and Max shared a look of alarm at the commotion, but it was when her name became suddenly clear in the shouts that Nox’s stomach dropped.

“Get this stuff away, will you?” she muttered, carefully setting her packages down beside Max, and turned to meet the oncoming figures. Even wrapped in a heavy coat and thick gloves, she knew the loping form of Skaad instantly.

With features which sagged so violently that his bruise-yellow skin frequently tore at the edges, and a mouth like a lipless sharps bucket, Skaad was nonetheless gifted with some of the keenest senses in the clan, plus a damn-near eidetic memory. Which meant he spent most of his time skulking in hidden places, listening to things he shouldn’t, and following people who thought they were alone in their secret business. Having him sprinting towards you, so fast his eyelids were visibly flapping, wasn’t a great sign.

Back in the world Above – before her life had gone to hell in a weirdly specific way – Nox had been a paramedic. It was useful in the day-to-day, being the closest thing this bunch of ragged immortals had to a resident doctor, but there was only really one sort of actual emergency left down here.

Skaad skidded to a halt, and grabbed her arm with a worrying urgency.

“Got a phresh one. Get yer kit!”

Fuck. A fresh one meant one thing: someone had found a dumped fledgeling, one who’d been showing signs of the Change going wrong and been tossed aside by their disgusted sire. Intervening quickly could help, particularly getting a pigeon smoothie down them fast, but the panic on Skaad’s drooping face didn’t line up with -

“What’s so – ?” she started, but he shook his head, steering her towards the plastic-covered tunnel they used as a makeshift clinic. He leaned in to shove her again, but lowered his voice and muttered just before he did – and the words sent ice down her spine.

“It’sh a kid.”

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

You didn’t turn kids.

When your working knowledge of vampires had been a general pop-culture miasma and some blurry memories of teenage Buffy marathons, finding yourself on the other side of the supernatural coin came as a shock in various ways. One of which was the weird sensation that you should have studied it all harder, somehow. Nox had certainly felt stupid, in her early days, as a man with a face like a charred wasps’ nest listened to her stutter her way through half-remembered fiction and worse-remembered reality. But she’d apparently got a few things right, and somewhere in that muddle had been the idea that you shouldn’t turn kids.

There were all kinds of theories as to why – from the debauched to the practical – but she found that in many ways it didn’t matter. Whatever fucked-up intention you had, it wouldn’t work. Too young just… didn’t take. And when a siring didn’t work, there was every chance the result would end up on her table.

She scrabbled through the assortment of old drawers and boxes that stored her gear, pulling out anything she thought might work. Bandages, thread, craft superglue, repurposed bottles of hard spirits that would do in a pinch for sterilising. The best-case scenario things. And the rest. Old herb pots of fine powders; thrift-store silver cutlery hammered and polished and changed into a very different set of tools. Sharpie-labelled bottles of liquids that moved weirdly in the light, and a range of refillable lighters that definitely didn’t contain hydrocarbons anymore. All the things she’d picked up in the last six years that fitted in with other sort of medicine.

The plastic curtain behind her was yanked back and a sound she had been trying not to hear finally demanded her attention. It wasn’t even a scream, and Nox hated, hated hated hated that she recognised the cadence there perfectly: raw, animal agony of sound torn from a throat that was violently reforming around it. She turned to see Skaad forcing flailing limbs down, looping thick restraints around rippling flesh, and finally allowed her full attention to turn down to the spasming form.

Gore looked different through vampire eyes. It was hard to describe exactly how – partly because wordsmithery had never been one of her strong points, but more because trying to compare feelings from now and then was always going to have a huge fucking hurdle of shifted species in the way. She’d still probably seen more human blood in nine years on the ambulances than during the half-dozen in and out of Vegas’ shadows, and but everything afterwards had been… different. Displaced. Detached. Just didn’t seem as visceral as it used to do.

But this did.

Acid tightened in Nox’s throat as she stared down at the shuddering mess in front of her. Blanched skin bubbled and writhed, tearing as it pulled away from the muscles beneath; themselves little more than contorting ropes of livid tissue that pulsed under dying heartbeats and spilled black fluid from ever-widening rents. The throat was gone, now a bubbling pit of desperate breaths, sucked past exposed tendons that wriggled like furious worms. Half-clotted ichor was pooling from gashes along the arms, down the stomach and further: the marks of peri-sire wounds, those that had been still fresh as the invading blood forced itself into collapsing veins. The eyes were side-to-side a sickly crimson-yellow, bloating out from a face that was collapsing in on itself, and throughout it all, the kid screamed.

It was revolting. Nox had to bite down on the vicious spikes of fight-flight that were going off in her mind, so violently she could feel her hands trembling from the horror and her disgust at her own reaction. It was an instinct, an unbidden response to a failing siring – she knew that – but understanding it didn’t make it easier. Everyone down here had ‘gone nozz’ during their own Turn. Hell, a few of those brought to her were walking around now, not seeming any weirder than any of them, but she’d still felt that awful surge of fundamental wrongness about them before they stabilised.

Nox gritted – all of – her teeth, and slammed her kit down on the table.

Instincts can fucking blow me.

“Let’s see what we can do.”

It turned out what they could do, wasn’t much. Cleaning, sewing, cutting, sealing – nothing held. Stitches fell from uncertain skin, or tore great new holes as fresh spasms pulled at the edges. Wet rags soon littered the floor, sodden with black and yellow fluids that turned the rough concrete into a slippery, stinking mess. The bleeding wasn’t slowing, even as the body seemed to be crumpling in on itself, gradually liquefying around the bones.

The sound had gone quieter, if not softer, and Nox didn’t have much hope it would stop soon. It might be days yet, before the final sparks of vitae or life or cruel continuation finally went out.

Too young. The kid – the girl, most likely, going by anatomy – had been just… too young.

They had to have known that.

“I’m outa tricks,” she said, although the words felt thick and sharp in her mouth. She wanted to keep going. She wanted to, so fucking much. But somebody had done this. Somebody who knew this would happen.

“I’m gonna make her comfy,” she continued, then hesitated even as she pulled out the frankly-horrific cocktail of morphine and street drugs that might make a dent in a system caught somewhere between undead and alive. Skaad looked at her, and held out a clawed hand.

“Want me…?”

“Nah.” Nox shook her head, and swallowed. “You can get the others outta upstairs, though. I need to – to make a call.”

Skaad stiffened, his jaundiced eyes flicking between her and the table for a moment, before he let out a low hiss and ducked away through the curtain. Nox administered the mix and tried to convince herself it would have any sort of palliative effect. Then she went back to the drawers and rummaged again, right at the back, until her fingers closed on the ridged plastic of an old nokia.

There weren’t many numbers in the phone, but it was the first one she selected, under B.

- SUMFCK SIRED KID. ITS BAD -

She threw the phone back into the drawer and hurried out, past the plastic sheet and into the tunnels, leaving sticky footprints in her wake. Not a great look, but everyone would already know what was happening. Nosferatu gossiped like – well, like a society of insomniac, semi-immortal shut-ins.

Overhead, an erratic cluster of repurposed pipes trailed down through the domed roof, emanating from the rat runs above. Drainpipes, corrugated plastic, bits of plumbing, and all of them shaking slightly with the constant pass of tiny feet within. They opened out onto tiny highways of shelving that lined the walls, all heading in the same direction as she was. Pairs of black-beady eyes glanced at her as they passed, and with so many concentrated here, she could feel the faintest flick of Attention in each one. They were all headed to a squat metal door at the end of an offshoot passageway. The rats passed freely back and forth narrow holes punched in either side of the door; but Nox knocked. She knew she was already expected and entered after a respectful moment.

Karloff’s chamber was bigger than it looked like it would be from the doorway. Nox wasn’t sure what the space had originally been – some kind of maintenance room? – but it was now dark, and warm, and smelled less of rats than might be expected given the constant rodent tide. Shelves lined the walls, full of books and occasional pieces of recycled pet furniture. One floor-ceiling tower was filled entirely with old radios, police scanners, walkie talkies and the like.

The old man himself lay where he usually did, propped up in a nest of pillows and blankets in a box-like bed in the centre of the room. He presented an impossibly gaunt figure: papery-brown skin layered like peeling paint across sharp bones, with eyes so thickly clouded they sat like grey-milk marbles in unclosing sockets. His face looked scorched, blackened at the edges of the old dry wounds that had taken his nose, torn away most of his lips, and presumably shattered the broken fangs that jutted from his mouth. There was – as usual – a huge white rat lazing across his chest, nearly the size of a terrier and wearing a dark silken ribbon, and its sharp crimson eyes fixed on Nox as she entered.

She bowed her head, and tried not to leave bloody footprints on the rug.

“I need a temporary Invitation,” she said. It was blunt, but there was no point in dancing around it. He’d already know anyway. As she spoke, the huge rat sat up. It’s pale paws were clasped in front of it, folded in a strangely human-like gesture, but Karloff himself turned his head only slightly.

“’Belton,” he said softly, in the throat-based hush of his voice, and Nox nodded. Her fingers twitched into fists, and she felt the sticky remnants of gore slide between them.

“I… I’m running out of options, and she – ” the words were sticker than her fingers, getting caught on her lips “ – she’s real bad.”

The rat cocked its head and Karloff drew a slow breath.

“You will not do it?” he asked. Nox’ throat tightened.

“If I gotta. But I want him to see her, cos I – I could do this, but I ain’t got a snowball’s chance of doing anything about it.”

Karloff’s head turned further, and the clouded eyes passed over her with an intensity that Nox could feel, as if they skipped sight entirely and went right into her heart instead. There was another stretched moment of silence, then the pressure dropped and the rat turned away, curling itself neatly under its master’s chin.

“It is done,” Karloff said. The long fingers on one hand twitched slightly, and the faintest hint of a frown dug into his face. “...take care with the old death. You have seen little of him.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you,” Nox added before she headed out again; first to check that the cocktail of drugs had at least calmed the kid’s screams, then back into the upper house. A few rats followed her as she slid into the squeaking, busy dimness of the runs to use the sink that still stood in one corner, using brownish water to at least scrub some of the stains from her hands. Then she set to wait, pacing with nervous energy.

No one joined her. By now, everybody would know what was happening, and no one wanted to be around when he came calling.

The problem – okay, so one of the problems, in a dreadful, tangled ball of ever-more layered problems – was that it was very, very difficult to kill a fledgeling in any way that could be considered humane. A body already in the process of tearing itself apart was resistant to most damage for the same reasons that you couldn’t punch a fog. Getting any kind of drug to land in an even-partly vampiric system was difficult enough at the best of times, and this…

Well, there was sunlight, but everything about Nox’s very being baulked at the idea of using that method. She knew with personal, hellish intimacy that the agony from that would get through even a Change. Torturing someone to death with one of the few things worse than what they were going through was really not the point.

Plus, there was a tiny, tiny part of her mind that hoped she was wrong. She’d only been dealing with this stuff for a handful of years, and while rumours varied widely about how old Belton actually was, he’d seen a lot of shit. Maybe she’d missed something. Just maybe…

It seemed to take an eternity before the roar of an engine outside broke through Nox’ whirling thoughts. She hurried to the door, took a careful breath, and peered out through the little viewing slot. Not that anyone else would have been able to ride a motorcycle up to the Homestead without the permission of Karloff’s Invitation, but it never hurt to keep caution.

A huge bike was settled just beside the front steps. It was black, but in the way a magpie’s wings were black, with oil-slick iridescence hinting around the edges. The rider – dressed to match, in that seamless continuity of clothing that Nox had started to think of as ‘vampire sunscreen’ – had already dismounted and was stood beside his bike, the raven-sheen of his helmet turned towards the door. There was no visible gaze to meet, but the weight of his attention was like ice down her spine, and she opened the door as deliberately as she could.

“She’s downstairs,” she said, as the figure came up the steps. The sun was already going down, barely spilling dying light over the surrounding wall of buildings, and the porch shadow was very deep there. It only got deeper as the big man stepped into it – and then paused, right on the edge of the frame.

“May I enter?” His voice was never as heavy as she expected, with a melodic edge that absolutely did not match what she knew lay under that helmet. Nox rolled her eyes.

“I texted you, and you’re here, right?”

He was always so… old fashioned about this. It wasn’t like it was a general requirement. Nox stepped back, gesturing inwards.

“Come in already,” she added. The man might have been big – although ‘fucking enormous’ would be a better description, needing to visibly turn and duck to get through the doorframe – but he moved deceptively fast, and was well inside the hallway, starting to remove his helmet before she had had time to shut the door. She turned to look, not even pretending not to stare as he unclipped all the security bits and lifted it smoothly free. The dramatic effect was only slightly spoiled by the oddly-bulging balaclava he had on underneath – but Nox supposed that if her ears could meet at the back, she’d want to keep them restrained inside a helmet too.

Belton looked… well, he looked like Belton. There just plain wasn’t anyone else like that. The best description she had ever been able to come up with was that he looked like someone had tried very hard to make a bat in the character creation screen of a pro-wrestling computer game. It was as if the underlying architecture that should have made a human skull had been stretched and tweaked and twisted into something approaching Chiroptera from the other side.

It probably said something worrying about her own psyche that – somewhere in the mess of emotions that Belton inspired – a part of her really, really wanted to see an xray of his head.

No time for this.

“C’mon,” she nodded him to follow her back down the Homestead’s passageways. The rats watched them from every surface; their skittering highways unusually still as the majority of glinting little eyes were fixed on the visitor. They were the only visible watchers, and Nox tried not to notice how empty every space they passed through was. It added another level of eeriness, with the just-abandoned debris of life seeming like some extremely localised Rapture. Even Nox’ rapid explanation of the situation fell muted around them; for his part, Belton just listened and nodded every now and then. He didn’t look around.

How familiar was he, with this place? He’d come a few times since she’d been here – and of course, that first time meant he’d sure known where it was. Nox’ gaze slid sideways. Belton had removed his gloves by now, and the hands revealed couldn’t even remotely be thought of as human; the fingers were too long, bone and tendons standing stark beneath mottled grey skin; capped by black claws that curled from the nailbeds, polished to an obsidian gleam.

How many times had those hands run across the outer walls of the Homestead; at Karloff’s limits; searching for a way in? How many times had those claws torn into sagging flesh, or crushed furry watchers into broken blindness?

How many times had he come before he had brought her here; a crispy mess of fledgeling coated in sand and gravel and gore, spat out by the desert and into hands that immortals feared…?

The plastic curtain seemed to rise up like an exclamation, a cold shot of right now breaking her thoughts, and Nox came to a sharp halt. There was still sound from inside: a bubbling, slurred collage of moans that had made it past the drugs, and her hand froze halfway to the curtain. The swell of renewed, visceral revulsion felt like she’d choke on her own fucking hypocrisy, and she couldn’t suppress a slight hiss.

“It’s – ” she started, through gritted teeth, but cut out as Belton gently touched her shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Nox’ fingers twitched, then she turned away, moving until she could lean heavily against the nearest concrete pillar and rested her forehead against the pitted surface. The groan might as well have been coming out of the air. It pressed down around her and her skin crawled.

She hated this, and she hated that she hated it like this. Some depraved motherfucker had dragged a fucking child into very literal hell and she’d tried, she’d tried with every stupid, macguivered bullshit tool she’d put together out of garbage; she’d tried everything and it was never going to have meant a damn thing and all she could focus on, really really focus on right now was how fundamentally disgusting that fucking sound was –

And then it stopped.

Nox physically sagged against the pillar, relief and nausea chasing each other through a stomach that was dropping into her boots. There was only one reason for the sudden silence, and she let her eyes slide closed, muttering the same half-wordless prayer she’d always used when a case went bad, or a patient flatlined in the ambulance. Whatever that meant now, she’d never been sure, but it still sort of fit.

She’d known. She’d known when she picked up that damn phone.

But fuck me if hope isn’t a bitch.

It wasn’t long before there was the faint brush of plastic again and Nox opened her eyes to see Belton smoothing the curtain back behind him, covering the sudden stillness. There was a long moment of silence before he turned to her. His eyes were the most human-looking part of his face, and the grey gaze sought hers.

“I’ll be on my way, then.”

Nox nodded numbly. They went out the way they came; still alone, still watched at every step by a hundred rodent stares. Back up, back to the door and out into the thickening dusk of the evening – and it wasn’t until the porch steps were creaking under his boots that Nox’s nerve rose again.

“Hey – Belton?” she managed, and the big figure paused. He looked back at her and one curled brow raised, moving an ear with it. Nox pulled the Homestead door shut behind her as she sought the right words. “This… ain’t your job, right?”

“I don’t have a real tight specification,” he replied, then shrugged. “But broadly? No. To be honest with you, my boss couldn’t give a rat’s twat what happens with the Nosferatu.”

“So why’d you come?” Those words came fast, but Nox didn’t try to stop them. Belton paused again, then hung his helmet and balaclava over the big bike’s handlebars. He sat down on the steps, hunching a little in that strange shape his back took when he wasn’t standing, and Nox slid down beside him at the unspoken invitation.

Belton shook his head, what might have been a wry smile tugging at the edges of his too-wide lips. Glints of needle teeth flashed in the dusk.

“It’s a question of perspective, see,” he said quietly. “For someone like you? This’ll ruin your whole year. Getting all Lady Macbeth with the inevitable. But for me?” He held up a hand and slowly flexed the clawed fingers. Once; twice; and Nox couldn’t draw her gaze away from the mottled skin as it shifted over his bones. Belton sighed. It was an old sound, so old that any hint of what it might contain had worn away like stone under rain.

“What’s one drop in an ocean? Don’t get me wrong – ” he added, with the edge of smile falling away again “ – I’ll feel bad about it; but I’m not losing myself any sleep.”

She should have been angry. She wanted to be angry, at the casual way this bat-faced bastard just said it; as the so-recent feel of the kid’s crumbling flesh slammed against her thoughts and ghosted under her fingers, and bile she wasn’t even sure she had anymore swirled at the back of her throat. She should be angry.

“...thank you.”

“No need for that,” he replied – but Nox shook her head.

“Nah; there is. Things need saying.” She fidgeted with the hem of her pants for a silent moment, before continuing. “Don’t believe you actually sleep, though.”

This time there was no mistaking that Belton grinned; and the resulting expression was exactly as unpleasant as it sounded.

“No? Not even if I say I’ve got little bats on my pyjamas?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Now that there’s uncalled for.”

Nox grinned, and even as she did she could almost hear Karloff’s voice in her head. Be wary of the old death.

And yet…

There was another long silence, although this one felt less tense.

…fuck it. When am I gonna get this chance again?

“They found her in the desert,” she said carefully, scuffing dust across the steps with one toe as she spoke; an idle motion to distract herself from the nerves inside. Belton nodded.

“Aye. Letting lady sun do the dirty work. It’s an almost foolproof method, really.”

Nox looked down at her own hands; where the patchwork of thickened tissue traced patterns like dry riverbeds over her pallid brown skin. The sun burned bits went blistered red, then dark and crackly, then sickly pale when that peeled; slowly edging back to her default. It sure as hell wasn’t pleasant; but it wasn’t the chemical-melting collapse of flesh that she’d seen on others.

“So, that make me a fool or an outlier?”

“I said almost.” Belton leaned back a little, looking up into the dark expanse of sky. “Always going to take a risk when you don’t stay to watch. Although I’ll admit it takes some big balls to stick around for that sort of disposal. What with the deeply ingrained phytophobia of your classic vampire, and everything.”

Nox raised her most intact eyebrow.

“This is more about your junk than I want to know.”

Belton laughed. Really laughed; the kind of melodic tone that bordered on a snatch of song and that was so very out of place coming from within that face.

“Oh, I’m not claiming that kind of testicular fortitude. Sunlight scares the piss out of me as much as it ever did. Don’t think it’s the kind of thing you can get over. Built-in, you know?”

“You ride about in the day,” Nox pointed out, and Belton waved a hand back towards his helmet.

“I’ve got some really bespoke protective gear, see. Amazing what’s been done with polymers in the last thirty years.”

Nox blinked.

“…you’ve got bike pleathers?”

“Technically I’ve got an integrated neo-polymer baselayer,” Belton stopped and his nose crinkled – which was quite an extensive expression. “…ah fuck, that sounds like I’ve got plastic pants, doesn’t it? Keep that one to yourself, will you?”

“Sure.” Nox’s shoulders sagged again as reality dropped back suddenly. She decided to just go for blunt. “With… the kid. Someone did that, and before that they – ” her words choked again, at the thought of where some of those peri-sire wounds had been.

“I know.” The amusement had gone from Belton’s voice as he stood up, heading back to his bike rather abruptly. The engine roared into life as he swung himself astride it, folding his ears into their cover, and Nox had to shout to be heard above the rumble.

“Do they… just get away with this?”

“There’s plenty that think they should,” he replied calmly; oddly easy to hear over the din, as he slid the helmet into place. “It was like that for a long time.”

Nox’s lips drew back, almost of their own accord, working to some defiant instinct she only had partial control over.

“And you?”

“Me? I’m a monster on a chain that I put there.” Belton looked up, and just before the visor snapped closed, there was a flicker of crimson in his eyes.

“But I’ll see what I can do.”

#Entofic #Vampire Nonsense #urban fantasy #The Vegas Masqerade #Nosferatu grocery shopping #terrible daywalkers #this WWE-manbat-looking mofo #I'm not warning for 'blood' on a vampire setting #help the plot keeps happening

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void-knights · 4 years

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The Coffee Shop and Students

Square Filled: Coffee Shop AU Pairing: Loki / Sigyn, Tags: coffee shop AU, Modern AU, Music Student Loki, Art Student Sigyn, Odin's A+ Parenting, Bisexual Loki, Bisexual Sigyn, Customers being terrible, Casual misogyny Summary: Since Odin cut him off Loki (a music student) needed a job while attending Uni, this is how he becomes an exhausted Barista and how he meets Sigyn a sunny art student. Word Count: 7630 Written/Created for @lokibingo

AO3 Link

Loki had never understood Odin, Odin had been boasting to all his friends and associates that Loki had got into the best university. Loki was going to be standing amongst the elites of their country, it would open so many opportunities for him, especially amongst the government. It delighted Odin to no end.

“I’m studying music,” had been the words that made Odin give up on that one instance of pride and instead he went back to praising Thor who was heading off to get himself killed in the military, just like Odin wanted. As if that had gone so well for the PTSD riddled Hela who now worked in a wolf sanctuary up north somewhere.

Sometimes Loki thought Hela had the right idea. Give up and go to live in the wilds with a pack of wolves and a bunch of people who just understood you instead of trying to please everyone.

Still, Loki attended university, he had won this chance and was not about to give up on his dreams. But Odin made an ultimatum, while he would pay for Loki’s education no matter what (no child of his would be in debt) he was not supporting Loki any further if he continued to study music instead of politics.

Loki took the money for his courses and didn’t look back, until he blew through his savings at the age of nineteen and found himself in need of a job. How hard could it being a Batista be?

He was now twenty-one and understood just how fucking difficult it was. The job in of itself was easy, once he memorized the prices, the way to make the teas, coffees and hot sandwiches he was set. What was difficult was the dammed customers. Some he liked, some he dreaded, some he hated and some he forgot because they were either unremarkable or never ever returned.

His previous coffee shop had been two hours away from his dorms, this new one was twenty minutes on foot and ten on a bike. He preferred the manager, a stout cheerful red haired man who was understanding and didn’t make rude remarks about anyone who deviated from the norm. His previous manager had been a nightmare to work with, he was never happy.

The routine was fairly similar, the manager let the students do their work so long as it didn’t interfere with their jobs and the running of this place. For students like Loki there was not much practical work he could be doing, unlike Steve and his constant drawing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a dent in his research.

(Steve Rogers also happened to be one of his roommates which is how he found this job in the first place, the other two being Anthony Stark – slumming it with other students much to the delight of Odin who wanted Loki to be the billionaire’s best friend – and Natasha Romanov, she spoke Russian when angry or exhausted and somehow knew everyone. Loki was fairly certain she was either in a dance, theatre or art course.)

One bitterly cold autumnal day she arrived, the woman with the golden-red curly hair and tan freckled skin. He’d never seen freckles on lips before, he thought it just lipstick until he realized the exhausted woman wasn’t wearing any make up. Understandable given it was currently six in the morning on a Friday.

She was exhausted but lovely, it was as though someone had given both autumn and summer physical form and blessed her with a cute smile and odd taste in jumpers.

Steve looked up from his sketchbook, “Siggy, you’re back?”

“No I’m haunting you, whooooo,” she said waving her hands about, Loki stared, her mittens (that turned into gloves when folded back) were snake mouths. It was like having a pair of Kermit the frog heads for hands but yellow with red eyes.

“You promised to haunt Nat first,” Steve said pushing himself away from the counter half amused.

“Nobody living or dead has the balls for that,” ‘Siggy’ half shouted watching the blonde vanish into the back office. Loki heard Steve laugh, he had to agree with the pair of them, there was nobody could handle that. At least being dead was an advantage.

Steve returned slapping a pair of keys into the woman’s hand, “Now you have to buy something,” he said pointing to the menu, “Two items please.”

“It’s blackmail then?” the woman laughed, “Give me my usual.”

“No, that will kill you this early in the morning, try green tea instead, it’s good for you,”

“Such a mother hen, I know what I’m about and I want an eight shot espresso,”

“One large Coffee pitch black and a sandwich,” Steve countered.

“Deal,” the woman sighed dramatically folding back her mittens and digging out change from her jeans pocket. She got her order and left, her umbrella was also yellow, a bright yellow stood out in the grey gloom of the rainy morning.

“Who was that?” Loki asked Steve.

“Oh that, that’s Sigyn,” Steve answered sounding bored as though she was not the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. Steve was boring, Steve needed better eyes or glasses or everything, how could he not see what an attractive delightful woman Sigyn was? “We’re looking at houses together, so she’s borrowing my car.”

Loki’s mind skidded to a halt, what? They were only twenty-one, Steve didn’t come from money, he got into this very exclusive university through his exceptional talents, grants and only one loan. Which meant Sigyn-

“-Oh,” Steve looked up from his sketchbook, “You should join us,” it was half six in the morning nobody could blame Loki’s brain for conjuring images of sharing a bed with Steve and Sigyn, both were gorgeous.

Sense came back to him, Steve was dating Bucky, so why was Steve looking at houses with Sigyn?

“So we don’t have to spend the next couple of years in uni dorms, Sigyn is going for her masters and doctorate like me,” Steve answered Loki’s unasked question, he was rather good at that, Loki blinked, “It’s cheaper than the university dorms, so you’ll be saving money.”

“Who else have you asked?” Loki asked interested in the idea, anything to save money would help and the university dorms weren’t the best place to keep on living. They had rats inspecting the property.

“Natasha, Sam, Bucky and Tony, Tony asked Rhodey and I’m asking you, that should make up the numbers,” Steve said.

“Eight people?” Loki frowned.

“Bucky and I will be sharing a room, I think Rhodey’s happy to share with Tony and if they need to Sigyn will share with Natasha,” Steve said.

Loki considered it carefully, while more expensive Loki had his roommates had signed up for short term leases, by the semester in case they ever wanted to move out for any reasons. They had quickly learned by the first year that the dorms were not ideal but living on their own was impossible, this seemed an ideal solution.

“Well we have until the end of the first semester, let me know a week before I have other people interested,” Steve said and Loki nodded, thinking it over and not just because of the potential of getting to know Sigyn more.

A customer walked in, she carried a snotty toddler on her hip, a second kid walked alongside her and an exhausted teenager followed her decked out in every single awful thing Loki used to wear as an aspiring goth with delusions of what constituted good taste. It was nice to know some things never changed.

Loki played rock paper scissors with Steve, he won, until the snotty three-year-old was let loose and put his snotty hands all over the glass display unit. Steve smugly grinned at him as Loki went to retrieve the cleaning supplies, it didn’t help that the kid was now coughing and sneezing over everything.

“Ma’am please can you keep your child by your side,” Steve said, Steve was bright-eyed and bushy tailed even after years in retail, how? How was that possible, Loki’s charity towards customers had been chipped away within a month.

Of course the woman ignored him and let her kid do what they want, Loki couldn’t help it if the toddler tripped over his foot and crashed into its other sibling. He couldn’t help it if the mother carried the pair off embarrassed, but not as embarrassed as the teenager who paid for their order and carried it out for their mother.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that,” Steve said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Loki grinned pleased with himself.

*****

Loki decided he hated customers when one cold evening one customer loudly decided to shout at Loki for having his long hair pulled into a ponytail and did he dare wear nail polish how dare he!

Steve of course stood up for Loki, because that was who Steve was, he wasn’t like his family who would happily laugh alongside the customer about how stupid Loki looked. Steve pointed out that this was a free country and that Loki tied his hair back for hygiene reasons, anyone with long hair had to do that regardless of gender.

Because Steve believed in things like freedom of speech, expression and so didn’t give a shit about your gender or sex. The woman shamed by Steve and his righteous speech took her coffee and slunk out of the coffee shop her tail between her legs.

“My hero,” Loki drawled causing Steve’s cheeks to pink, “So confident, I can feel the righteous surging!” Steve shook his head, “Hey want a rousing discussion about truth? Honour, patriotism, god bless-”

“I get it, you love me, lets move on,” Steve sighed completely resigned to Loki’s way of thanking him.

“Aww,” Both Steve and Loki turned to see Sigyn standing there, “Personally I’ve been on the end of Steve’s speeches, great as they are they tend to amp you up, you could lead an army with Steve’s speeches.”

“Take your heart attack juice and leave,” Steve said already filling a cup with eight espressos.

“That’s no way to speak to a customer!” Loki faked shock.

“Yes, how dare you!” Sigyn grinned, this is why Steve didn’t want Sigyn and Loki meeting, it would either be amazing or terrible, “I have rights as a customer!”

“I would demand compensation, a cheese and bacon toastie for instance,” Loki smirked at Sigyn.

“I – I wait what… excuse… what, Steeeeeeve, you did-”

“-No you, Sig are not allowed any more cheese at night,” Mother Hen Steve warned her, “Cheese gives you weird nightmares remember.”

“But it tastes so good! And that’s where the best ideas come from,” Sigyn said.

“It’s her right as a free patriot to eat cheese whenever she wants,” Loki said, yep Steve regretted them meeting. He decided it was worse than introducing Tony to Bruce and Jane Foster, the science trio were mad bastards doing crazy shit.

“Yes,” Sigyn nodded, “It is my democratic right to eat cheese and have weird nightmares. Now gimmie.”

“Even the nightmare about the tap dancing pig?” Steve asked, how he did that with a straight face baffled Loki, but he did.

“There were sooo many nipples,” Sigyn whispered haunted by some weird idea that did not seem that horrific until Loki noticed her frightened expression. “I change my mind,” She relented as Steve slid her order to her, “What time does your shift end?”

“Ten thirty why?” Steve asked checking the clock, an hour to go.

“I need your friend, the crazy bloke that talks to things?” that could only be one person.

“Tony,” Steve said

“Yeah, him, I need him to look at my laptop, it’s being a right old bastard, I think he might me on his last legs,” Sigyn sighed dramatically.

“Well you can wait here and walk back with us if you want,” Steve offered, Sigyn nodded and smiled thanking Steve as she claimed a peaceful corner all to herself.

The majority of the shift was spent dealing with people who were just starting out on their night out. Their manager closed up the shop after everything was done and kicked them out was he was sure everything was done for a second time.

The walk back to their dorms was a short walk filled with brief conversation and many yawns.

As soon as they were inside their dorm they were greeted by Tony and Natasha debating which was the best way to enjoy popcorn. Steve being the gentleman he was offered to take Sigyn’s black military coat, it hung alongside the other coats, her mittens stashed away in the pockets.

“Bacon popcorn is my go to,” Sigyn admitted pulling her bag to the side to take out her laptop.

“A woman after my heart,” Tony grinned at her.

“Good, fix my laptop genius,” Sigyn said handing it to him, “I got stuff I need protecting.”

“Like your porn stash?” Tony snickered.

“No, who keeps porn on their laptop in this day and age, get a pornhub account,” Sigyn said without any shame, Steve rolled his eyes while Tony laughed, “Fix him, he’s got my research and digital works, he’s not giving them up.”

“Greedy bastard,” Tony laughed with her.

Loki didn’t have much opportunity to spend time with Sigyn beyond handing her a bottle of water, she was too busy hovering over Tony and her laptop like a mamma duck waiting for her duckling to return. Of course the old as fuck (it didn’t take a genius to see how old her laptop was) laptop was on it’s last legs.

But Tony being Tony backed everything up on a portable SSD drive for Sigyn and told her not to worry about the cost of the thing, he recommended Laptops within her budget but said she couldn’t really expect to do much artwork beyond them, especially 3D stuff.

Sigyn thanked him and went along her way, Tony being Tony bought Sigyn a laptop. Steve said that she had beat him half to death trying to get him to send it back, Tony stuck an unreasonable amount of stickers on the laptop so no. He couldn't send it back.

Apparently Sigyn was pleased but annoyed that he had been so nice, whatever she got him in return made the young man giggle and blush. They never told anyone what it was.

*****

Sigyn returned to the coffee shop one warmer autumnal afternoon wearing a faded white band shirt with holes around the V-neck, jeans worn and weathered with time and patched with embroidery with paint stained army boots and bracelets around her wrists. Her curly hair was braided, half cornrows on her left side and half box braids on the right with beads and charms hanging from the braids.

Today Steve had the day off leaving Loki to suffer with Jane, well no that was a lie. He liked Jane, he didn’t like her dating his brother (who was four years older than her) and neither of them had the warmth and cheer that Steve had, that cheer and warmth kept them going. Instead, Jane and Loki wallowed in their misery as customers made their lives hell.

One in particular seemed to think slapping Jane’s arse was a good idea, he of course was equally horrified when he slapped Loki’s arse only to find out Loki was a dude.

“Usual?” Loki asked a little amused when she seemed surprised he would remember.

“Actually no, it’s pumpkin spice season,” Sigyn patted out a beat, “Give me a large pumpkin spice latte.”

“You can pay for it like anyone else,” Loki grinned, it took a few seconds to realize what Loki meant before she laughed a little ducking her head. Several beads clicked against one another.

It was thanks to the lack of customers at this hour (either Sigyn was a pro at avoiding customers – which if the case, she needed to teach him that skill – or she worked weird hours. Being an art student he couldn’t decide which was the right choice,) that he was able to continue talking to her.

Sigyn sipped her latte pleased with the taste, there was a reason it was so dammed popular and it wasn’t because it was famous – or infamous. She savoured the spices as studied Loki closely.

He wasn’t what she had expected when Steve first talked about him, she was expecting some posh guy who wore jumpers and talked on a diamond encrusted I-Phone. Loki was quite… normal, well terms of fashion, in terms of looks he was pleasing on the eye.

“So Steve tells me you’re a music student?” She asked thinking given his background he would be some sort of classical music star someday. She had no idea what went into music, she liked what she liked and that was that.

“I am,” was all Loki added much to her frustration, until he laughed and added, “I have always had the talent, since I first played the piano.”

“Ah, so you are a classical musician?” she asked, he looked more like he belonged in a Scandinavian heavy metal or folk band, she couldn’t get a good grasp on him.

“Not classical no,” He smirked, and she was left annoyed once again, the tease. She had to leave due to her classes starting soon, that and a new line of customers arrived, she bid Loki a fond goodbye and walked away.

Jane stared at Loki, “You like Sigyn huh?”

“What’s not to like about her?” Loki asked.

“She does have a nice arse,” Jane agreed, that wasn’t her only ‘nice’ feature but Loki didn’t say it out loud and instead set to work getting the next round of orders in.

*****

It was one of those weeks, Loki was battling with a mental block, papers were due, he had run out of shampoo and resorted to Natasha’s so now he had to deal with frizzy hair and worst of all the customers.

The company had decided in their eternal wisdom to release a complicated new creation to beat their competition, this bastard of a concoction was named the ‘Halloween Unicorn’ it was a nightmarish creation of a kid that had been fed too much sugar.

Yet apparently the customers all loved it, it was an over glorified pumpkin spice latte with extras that came with its own Halloween themed cup. But it was popular, so popular that they had sold out on day two after Instagram stars starting peddling it.

Now everyone needed a picture with one, most frustrating were the people who tossed their drinks after getting the pictures. Having to empty rubbish bins that were half filled with coffee was no pleasant task. Thankfully they had heavy-duty bags that did not leak (after years of experimentation) the downside, they were heavy.

God forbid they run out of the special cups or the unicorn horns and unicorn shaped biscuit and sprinkles that the dammed drinks came with. What was wrong with a basic pumpkin latte?

Sigyn was the next customer not that Loki noticed in his exhausted state, not until she smiled at him, customers did not usually smile at him.

“Pumpkin Latte please,” she requested and Loki almost wept with joy, no overly fancy orders, just a simple god fearing pumpkin spice latte. She dropped her usual tip in the tip jar and took her order with no fuss or additional stress.

She was seated by the window perched on her bar stool making use of the Wi-Fi as she typed away on her brand-new laptop. It was a garish yellow colour that somehow suited Sigyn completely. He took the next order, things were looking up, this woman asked for a completely normal black coffee.

Then the new wave of unicorn lattes started pouring in, rush hour meant all hands on deck. Steve and Jane were manning the coffee orders, their manager took care of the food and Loki was left to deal with the customers, he rang up the orders and passed them on. He barely noticed Sigyn leaving, he couldn’t call out to her which annoyed him.

It was five in the evening when things started to die down, the students had been dealt with and the customers were thinning.

“Back again?” Steve asked sounding amused by something.

There stood Sigyn, her curly hair pulled back and held by a piece of cloth, her left cheek smeared with a blackish paint. She wore blue painters overalls with yellow wellington boots.

“Only because I get a freebie,” she said presenting the stamp card.

“Pumpkin spice?” Steve didn’t need to ask, he was already making the drink.

“Yes, feed me,” Sigyn whispered.

“Have you spent your weekly budget already?” Steve asked.

“It’s Saturday be in awe that I lasted this long,” She said as Steve went to check with their manager that it was fine giving his friend free food.

Their manager being nice and Steve being the best worker he had meant that Sigyn got her food. “So how’s your project going?” Steve asked delivering the food to Sigyn’s stable by the window.

As Sigyn took her first bite of the bacon and egg grilled sandwich the moan she uttered did things to Loki, things that he should not be experiencing in a coffee shop, “Ah uh,” Sigyn wiped the bit of egg off her bottom lip, Loki struggled to tear his eyes away from her, “Well, I completed it.”

Steve looked up annoyed, “You… of course you did,” He sighed resigned to his fate it seemed.

He couldn’t listen in on the rest of the conversation because a customer came up to the counter, the woman had an expression that screamed she could either be a sane and nice customer or about to make their lives hell for the next ten minutes.

She chose hell.

“It’s not very professional to have your hair like that ,” she said to Loki, his hair was in a ponytail for sanitary, health and safety reasons, not for fashion purposes.

He was used to it, “May I take your order, please?” he asked she would need to do better than that to get through the thick skin retail and service work had endowed him with.

“You shouldn’t have your nails painted,” she said, he was wearing gloves again for sanitary and health reasons, they all did.

Loki simply met her stare which made her uncomfortable, “Ma’am may I take your order please, there are other customers waiting,” he pointed out to her politely.

The woman huffed and puffed, was she somehow expecting to magically summon the manager from his office? Loki waited, the customers were telling her to hurry up and that just would not do. She broke down completely, shouting at Loki.

It was oddly nostalgic. Like Yuletide with the family. Until her words struck a particularly raw nerve, the string of homophobic slurs she spewed left the few people that did not have their phones pulling out their phones to film what was happening.

That summoned the manager, who being ex-army took no shit. The woman left without her unicorn latte (thank fuck for small mercies) and a polite banning by the manager.

Loki tried not to let such things affect him, after all she was just a nameless woman, one of many that passed through this store. But that did not mean her words did not sting. Steve took over the counter allowing Loki to make the coffee’s in peace, the woman’s tirade made people overly generous with their tips, which was nice at least.

Sigyn was sat at her usual spot, when he looked up he caught her eye she offered him a smile before returning to her work. It was an hour later when they had no customers that Loki went to sit with her, to learn what she was working on.

She had pulled off the top half off her overalls, wrapping the sleeves around her waist to prevent the rest falling down as she worked on her essay. For an art student she was muscular and very freckled, there didn’t seem to be an inch free of freckles.

“I’ve got to write an essay on Edmund Dulac,” She said he had no idea who that was, so she turned her screen to him, he nodded still having no clue who he was. “Are you okay?” she asked him which for a few moments baffled him completely.

He realized she was talking about the incident with the woman, “Yes, it is something you have to get used to,” he said she looked annoyed on his behalf.

Fiddling with a leather bracelet Sigyn smiled at him, “It’s not the most ideal time but I can’t keep faffing about with this, do you uh, well not coffee how about uh drinks sometime, with me?” she asked him.

It took him a moment to get over how adorable she was when she was flustered, that blush warming her warm brown skin beautifully. “You are asking me out?”

“Y-yep,” She nodded, “I mean, if you want to?” she was fascinated to know what he looked like outside the coffee shop.

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Wait really?” She asked surprised why? She was gorgeous, she was the beauty that most people on social aspired to be. “Oh, alright, um, my phone number,” she said.

He slid his phone in her direction, so she could type it in, “Why are you so surprised?” Loki asked her really wanting to know.

“Oh you know, because your hot and I thought you might already be dating someone and well It’s uh been a while since I’ve dated anyone,” She admitted handing him his phone back.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in an actual relationship with anyone, he had taken to one-night stands, mostly to experiment with his sexuality and try to pin it down. Sigyn smiled at him, and he believed her at that moment, she really was attracted to him for some reason.

Wasn’t that interesting?

*****

It was near the end of autumn by the time Sigyn and Loki could find the time to just spend a day together, what with their conflicting schedules, work and deadlines. But in the meantime they texted, messaged, phoned one another even taking a few moments to talk and get to know each other in the coffee shop.

It wasn’t as though they were strangers when they finally met up then, but they didn’t really know each other that well either. It helped calm him down as he stood waiting for her in the meeting spot.

Perhaps it had not been the greatest idea to come dressed in his usual blacks, with dashes of green and gold here and here. Some older folks were certainly disapproving of the way he dressed making him double guess his choices.

There was a part of him that wondered if Bruce was right, and he should have toned down his wardrobe for first impressions outside the coffee shop. The longer he waited (he cursed himself for needing to be early) the further he spiralled into panic and misery until finally a soft “Hey!” made him look up from his phone.

Sigyn stood there smiling wearing a knee-length mustard yellow jumper dress, thick black tights and black thigh high boots. Her knitted green and yellow scarf was ridiculously long with her usual brown backpack hung over one shoulder. Her hair had been freed from any restraints and now it was determined to be noticed the golden-red curls and coils framing her face seemed almost dazzling.

“Hello,” he greeted standing up, this was a little strange. Did they need to be in a coffee shop to feel normal? She laughed softly to herself, “What’s so funny?” for a dreadful second he imagined her laughing at him or something he chose to wear.

“Sorry, I was just thinking it’s a little weird seeing you in people cloths,” she smiled at him.

“I wear people cloths when I’m working,” He said.

“Your uniform is not people cloths, it’s the opposite, devoid of personality, this , feels like you,” she said grinning at him. She always seemed to be smiling or grinning. “How does this even work?” she asked him running her finger along the diagonal line of the zip on his leather jacket.

“Well you take the zip,” he began showing her the zip beneath his own black and green scarf and grinning when she rolled her eyes amused.

“Smart arse,” She said slapping him playfully on the arm. He did his best not to flinch, she noticed and thankfully said nothing, years of putting up with Thor and his friends had left their mark on him. She still smiled, pretending for his sake, or comfort that she had not noticed, something he appreciated. “So what now?”

“Has it that long for you?” He teased her she blushed an overly pleasant shade of pink as she walked alongside him.

“If I say yes would you be put off?” she asked him, hoping that he would not, some people were odd about people not dating, like it was a part of the curriculum for students.

“Of course not, I am more surprised you actually showed up,” he confessed though with a teasing tone as to not appear genuine. He did not wish to come across as needy or desperate.

“I wanted to see what you looked like in leather and skin tight jeans,” she waggled her eyebrows at him, like two charming caterpillars they danced, she was weirdly good at manipulating her eyebrows he thought transfixed for enough time to make Sigyn laugh.

“And?” he asked, he should have toned it down! It was ridiculous to think someone as warm, soft and pleasant as Sigyn would like this. Stark’s offer of a shirt suddenly seemed appealing.

“I approve,” She grinned at him, his whole body sagged in relief, she must have felt it because somehow that sunny smile seemed to grow a lot brighter. “So… what do people do on dates these days?”

He didn’t know, again dating had not been something he’d been overly interested in up until meeting Sigyn. Sigyn grinned at him, she knew he didn’t know either!

“People usually go for coffee,” He said lamely.

“ You want to go for coffee?” She asked him sounding amused, “That’s like asking me to spend my free time in a garage.”

“You work I a garage?” Loki asked suddenly he remembered something Tony had said about having Sigyn look at his car, he assumed he meant in the ‘I want to ask someone out’ way and not the actual practical way.

“Yep,” she said leading him through the streets with an idea, “My dad was the type that made his kids learn all the skills they would need in later life. He didn’t want me being ripped off if I ever managed to buy a car.”

Funny all his father gave him was self-esteem issues and anxiety, this was not something you said on a date, Loki knew that at least instead he said “My father just tossed money at people to solve whatever little problems he had.”

“Ah, you see that’s no good, I don’t care how rich you are everyone should know basic home maintenance,” Sigyn said, which sounded like good sound practical advice, the sort of ‘advice’ that Odin would shout at his children when telling them to pull themselves up by the bootstraps.

Instead, he answered, “Well my mother did teach me how to maintain a healthy garden, I know how to keep a vegetable patch and herb garden,” he said thinking it silly.

Sigyn turned to him awed like he had just said the greatest thing anyone could think of, “Really!? I’m useless with plants, well aside from Frank and Hudson.”

“Frank and Hudson?”

“Frank’s this spider-plant that just refuses to die, seriously I forgot to water him, and he just keeps on living and Hudson’s this Jade plant, I got him when he was a wee sprout as a kid, the bastard won’t die,”

“You make it sound like they are making your life an inconvenience!” he laughed.

“They grow Loki, they grow!”

“That’s what a plant is supposed to do,”

“Yes, but do you know how big twenty-year-old jade plants can be and how many babies a spider plant produces, lots!” She flapped her hand about.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of Sigyn on her one woman crusade to defeat two rather average houseplants that refused to die. She puffed out her cheeks pretending to be annoyed as he laughed, in truth she was delighted to see him so relaxed. This was nice.

Sigyn had taken him to the natural history museum, some place he had yet to visit despite living in the city for two years already. It was fascinating and much better than visiting a coffee shop. Even if suddenly he was craving a cup of coffee, his work had cursed or conditioned him!

The date went well, he did think it odd that they had not kissed on the first date, was that normal? He wasn’t sure but there was plenty of hand holding and laughter. Natasha said that was a good sign when he mentioned the date to her later that evening.

“The issue you got right now,” Natasha said stretching with Loki, they both attended evening dance classes together, pole dancing to be exact. It was a great way to keep in shape, “Is whether she’s aware of your sexuality?”

He had neglected to mention that, usually wasn’t something he needed to mention, “It might have slipped my memory,” Loki admitted mirroring Natasha as they went into the next stretch.

“Hmm, well you should get on that,” he would have done had dance classes had not left him close to breaking. Natasha and Loki staggered home looking as though they had been through hell and back and nobody had allowed them to collect the t-shirts on the way out.

So it wasn’t until he saw Sigyn the next day with Steve in the coffee shop that he suddenly remembered. Mostly it was the girl very obviously checking out Sigyn that helped him remember what Natasha suggested.

He knew from watching others that it could be a make or break thing, apparently some people weren’t comfortable with their partners being bisexual go figure! He didn’t want to mess things up with Sigyn, things seemed to be going good, nice even.

“Isn’t this supposed to be Jane’s shift?” Steve asked him, not as a co-worker but a customer today. The man had bland coffee tastes, Sigyn got her usual pumpkin spice latte, she was determined to fill up before they were replaced with the peppermint drinks come winter.

“Yeah but I have extra classes this afternoon, she had extra classes this morning, so we switched places,” Loki rattled off.

“Oh okay,” Steve said grabbing his boring coffee and adding no sugar or milk, he was just that type that liked his drinks simple. Sigyn was halfway finished with her latte before Steve could even dare attempt drinking his scalding drink.

“Sigyn can I have a word?” he asked, there were no other customers waiting for a drink at the moment so now was a good time.

“Sure,” Sigyn nodded, Steve pretended to make himself scarce by reading a book at Sigyn’s usual spot by the window, clearly he was waiting for Sigyn. Right! They were classmates. He’d almost forgotten. “What’s up?” she asked looking a little worried.

“Ah uh, I should have mentioned before,” Loki said thinking it was a little weird to mention this here and now, he should have waited, damn it, but now he couldn’t just not say it could he? “I,” he hesitated, Sigyn nervously began downing her coffee like a mad woman, “I’m bi?”

“Oh… that’s all?” She breathed a heavy sigh of relief, a nervous giggle escaped her, “I uh, mean no offence or anything Loki but it was kinda obvious?”

“You can’t tell if someone is bisexual by the way they dress and act,” Loki pointed out, well Sigyn was amazing maybe she could?

“True,” She nodded radiating cheer and warmth as she pulled out her phone and showed him the screen, “But meddling billionaire’s have no filter when you ply them with whisky.”

It was a photo of Loki and Tony kissing… well no Loki’s hand was quite clearly down Tony’s pants. It had been a rather strange night of drinking and more drinking, apparently Loki decided that night he was Bi and being a scientist needing to test this theory out. Loki had of course been happy to have an attractive guy make out with him, apparently Tony had a thing for potential rock stars? It didn’t matter, Tony got his answer and Loki got a half remembered fuck, it was a good half remembered fuck.

“I am going to murder him,” Loki threatened, it was a lie of course and Sigyn laughed, clearly not offended at all and used to Tony’s antics.

“If it helps,” She said quite calmly, “It doesn’t bother me that you’re bi Loki, we have that in common.”

“Oh, ah, I see,” Loki smiled, “Well good?”

“Good,” Sigyn grinned, “Does this mean we’re still going to meet up this weekend?” she asked.

“Of course, I want to see how you react to plants,” he smirked.

“Why plants?” Sigyn asked caught off guard, but Loki refused to reveal his plot to show her around the plant exhibition. It wasn’t just about plants, there was also some arts and crafts sections and something about home-made wine. “I knew it, you’re on their side, plotting against me.”

“Ah yes, me and my legion of hydrangeas,” Loki smirked.

“That’ll be a good band name,” They both jumped, there was Natasha… in daylight hours looking as though she hadn’t slept a week. By her side Tony, who had not slept in a week, “Legion of hydrangeas.”

“Nah you want something more badass, Legion of Cacti,” Tony said waking up now he was within arms reach of coffee. Sigyn pulled her coffee cup away from him.

“Wouldn’t you be more badass with Legion of Wolfs bane?” Sigyn countered.

“Wolfs bane legion?” Steve countered.

“Just take your coffee and go, all of you," he said filling up the various cups. Natasha liked Mocha, Steve was happy with his still scalding coffee, Sigyn got her refill of Pumpkin Spice while Tony had what Steve called heart attack juice.

“You’re supposed to smile when-” Steve grabbed Tony by the shoulder and gently steered him out of the building.

“Thanks,” Natasha nodded, that was all he was going to get out of the exhausted… possible dance student. There was some speculation she might be a classics student.

Before Loki could say goodbye to Sigyn she brought him into a kiss, it was a soft quick thing, nothing but a fond goodbye but it managed to turn his legs to jelly and leave him with a dopey smile as she pulled away grinning. He was to busy mooning over Sigyn as she left, especially the way her hips swayed that he forgot to mention the traces of black lipstick.

The girl that had been checking Sigyn out glared at him, ‘ Yeah she’s mine! ’ she stuck out his tongue, she surprised him by returning the gesture.

Their second date went well until Sigyn lost a fight with a prickly pair cactus, Tony laughed and laughed, the fact that they had to buy said cactus because it now had her blood on it made Tony laugh even harder. He bought the cactus and crown and sash, crowning it the vanquisher of Sigyn.

“I told you,” Sigyn groused poking her bandaged forearm, “Wait till Fred and Hudson hear about this, it’ll make them bold!”

Loki kissed her, she smiled at him in a very silly way that made his insides squirm and wiggle in delight. Her feathery touches, her patience all made him light up, he was certain others were mocking him for becoming so sappy, but he didn’t care.

She responded to him with affection and kindness, something he had not really had in a relationship before. At least not on this sort of level. Sigyn was never ashamed about hugging him, or just gently brushing her fingers through his hair. Why did that one feel so good? He liked her braiding his hair or just running her nails along his scalp.

“Next you’ll be writing love songs and giving each other promise rings,” Tony fluttered his eyes at Loki the next morning. Ah so the mad bastard had finally got some sleep.

That… might be a little true, he had begun to write one (just one!) Song for Sigyn, he couldn’t help it, when inspiration struck he had got it down on paper. But he would not admit that Tony, not when he was operating at full brain capacity while Loki was struggling to remember what day of the week it was.

Instead, he sent Sigyn a text ‘ Stark is annoying me, send help! ’

Her response was instant ‘ Mention Justin Hammer ’ why? Who was that? She sent him a list of conversation starters that included that name.

“Did you notice the university newspaper this morning Natasha?” Loki said.

“We have a newspaper?” Tony asked.

“Apparently someone called Justin Hammer-” Tony hissed like a feral cat and zoomed off shouting something about cheap copy cats.

“Tell Sigyn that was mean,” Natasha said holding up her mug to be filled with heart attack juice.

Loki later learnt that Tony had been the originator but Sigyn had perfected this particular blend of coffee so strong it could fuel rockets. Loki stuck with natural coffee, coffee that did not make people stay awake for days on end.

Loki on pure instinct refilled her mug, then looked horrified when he realized what he had done! The corporations had conditioned him! Natasha smirked, “Serves you right,” she said sliding off the plastic barstool Bucky had fished out from a dumpster.

*****

Usually it wasn’t a good idea to move into somewhere with a girlfriend of a couple of months, but the rent was cheap and the house was decent enough. Much better than the university dorms anyway. They had plenty of space in spite of the fact eight people lived here, there was even a small garden.

It wasn’t a good idea to share a bedroom either, but nobody could blame Loki and if their relationship ended suddenly for some weird reason Sigyn could share or swap with someone else. But Loki didn’t like thinking about that.

He liked his relationship with Sigyn, she made him feel loved, special, like he could do anything he wanted and that was okay. She supported him, coming to the café’s and clubs he played at never anything short of happy grins and warm affection.

Whenever he felt those pangs of ‘I’ve fucked up and should have listened to Odin’ moments she was there holding his hand reminding him it was okay to follow his dreams. He could not understand why someone as loving and kind as Sigyn would want him, but he could not imagine his life without her now.

In turn, he supported her art shows, Sigyn it turned out was a talented painter, both with traditional and digital mediums. She was already building a regular client base and looking to publish some books, which featured her work, there was also talks of a graphic novel that she and Steve were working on together. Something about an Atalantian prince.

She liked to draw him, he didn’t mind, he was in fact flattered she found him that interesting. He was always happy to spend time with her regardless of what they were doing, especially when the Uni classes became more serious. It was nice to just share a comfortable space with someone, someone who warmed him and reminded him to carry on. That everything was okay.

Finally, Loki got to meet Fred and Hudson, Hudson was huge, Sigyn had grossly undersold just how big he was. He became the Christmas tree that year he was so big. But Fred, the spider plant who hung from the ceiling was almost as long as Loki was tall, clearly Sigyn had given up dealing with the babies and just let him grow thinking it would kill off the plant.

“Maybe you have a secret superpower-” Loki began to suggest as he placed them in the most ideal locations.

“-Plants are spiteful,” Sigyn hissed threatening the plant who did not respond.

“Maybe that’s what feeding, all that hate?” Loki suggested.

“Oooh that’s sneaky, so typical of-” Sigyn paused looking at Loki who was struggling not to laugh, he blinked not understanding why she had suddenly become so serious, “You have pretty eyes.”

He blushed always caught off guard by her compliments he couldn’t help it, she smiled taking hold of his hand and kissing him. His entire being fluttered as she slowly deepened the kiss forgetting for a moment that they were in the process of decorating the house when Bucky walked in complaining about the new coffee machine.

“Loki!” Bucky yelled, “You're the coffee expert-” Loki groaned pulling away from Sigyn who giggled, her whole body rocked against him.

“-I should have worked in the bakery,” He pinched his nose, though he could not regret his choice of work now, it had led him to meeting Sigyn.

“You know… I need help with our bed,” Sigyn offered him an escape, and he took it with a grin, our bed did sound rather lovely.

#Loki Bingo 2020 #Loki/Sigyn #Logyn #Coffee Shop AU #loki x sigyn #Loki fic #Loki Fanfic #steve rogers #bucky barnes #jane foster #Tony Stark #Student!Loki #Student!Sigyn #Modern AU

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volturialice · 5 years

Text

Spork Haven chapter 23: salt fucking peter

welcome to spork haven, where I spork the EL James fic you’ve never heard of

previous chapter | next chapter | contents

previously on Spork Haven:

actor!Edward got an outlandish fucking award and became Best Actor!Edward! hotel maid murder witness cello prodigy orphaned ““cajun”” heiress!Bella was his date to the awards show! Ed looked into Emmett’s dark burning eyes and had a Moment! Bella felt dizzy and then went missing! will the Volturi mafia succeed in murdering her? let’s hope so stick around and find out!

warning: this chapter is incredibly long. please check the tags for content warnings—there are a lot! it’s eventful, though, so we’ll give it a pass. but settle in and make yourself comfortable. maybe go get a drink or something. I know I needed a drink after I read this garbage.

chapter 23 opens with Edward attempting to process the fact that Bella has disappeared. he does this in what I have to admit is a pretty seamless fusion of el james’s and stephenie meyer’s trademark styles (negative space here preserved for authenticity):

wow. eat your heart out, New Moon.

once we’ve experienced that bit of totally original typesetting magic, Edward leaps into action!

just kidding. he’s “totally fucking immobilized.” paralyzed with fear, he “stifles a sob” and toys with whether to “wail, scream, and tear his hair out with impotence”

luckily, he’s very good at giving himself pep talks:

this bracing self-administered kick in the pants unfreezes him, allowing him to summon the mental faculties to go get Emmett.

Emmett clears the ladies’ room and calls for backup. He and Edward search the restroom and are joined by a rando Local security guard as they discover—gasp!—a secret second exit to the bathroom (shoutout to the phoenix airport womens’ room, amirite?) leading into a service tunnel.

the Local security guard informs them that the tunnel leads to an alley, but the alley’s only exit is onto Hollywood Boulevard. you know, the street currently clogged with limos, paparazzi, cameras, and fans. idk about y’all but I’m starting to think this kidnap attempt may have been just a tad poorly conceived. why kidnap her at all? they had ample time to kill her, dump her body in the service tunnel, and make their escape unencumbered.

as Ed, Emmett, and Local race down the service tunnel, Emmett radios for Jasper to go around and cut the Bad Guys off in the alley. Edward is the slowest of the bunch

so he quickly falls behind the other two.

he’s trying to catch up when—wait! what’s that on the ground? something...sparkly?

that’s right: he pauses in chasing after Bella and her kidnapper in order to notice “six thousand dollars’ worth of earring” lying on the ground.

then he stops and picks it up.

now, I know what you’re thinking, guys—is he seriously stopping to pick up a lost earring when Bella’s life is in danger?—but keep in mind, these earrings were twelve thousand dollars. also, Edward loves earrings! they make him horny! what else is he supposed to suck on at Bella’s funeral?

I mean, yeah, if your worst fear was that Bella might lose an earring.

what indeed, Edward. what indeed.

imagine for a second that you’re Emmett in this fic. you’re a law enforcement professional racing to protect your charge’s life, bellowing into your walkie for backup, preparing to apprehend an armed and dangerous suspect in an area full of innocent civilians...when suddenly, from somewhere far behind you in the dingy gloom of the service tunnel, you hear the sniveling, British-accented voice of the bitchass manchild celebrity who’s tagging along:

“I’vE fOuNd hEr eArRiNg!”

jesus.

still ahead of Eddie boy, Emmett and Local burst out into the alley, guns drawn. Edward hears gunfire and is terrified for Bella as he finally catches up and arrives at the scene.

this is about where erika’s writing gets...incredibly confusing. and not in a POV, “we’re in the character’s head experiencing the chaos with him in real time” way. more like in a “several dozen drunk blind amputees playing Twister” way. this is my cute way of saying “it’s bad” and “I had to read it four times before it began to make sense.”

in the alley, all is chaos. a gun has just gone off

I’m sorry. salt...peter? saltpeter? did someone shoot off a Ye Olde Civil War Musket? I know fuckall about firearms and even I know they phased that shit out in the fucking 1880s.

and while we’re here, fun trivia fact about saltpeter: in Olden Times, people would ingest saltpeter in order to nuke their sex drives. silly Olden Times! if it’s a bonerkiller you’re after, all you have to do is read this fic!

ok, back to the alley. security are cordoning it off, keeping the “fucking jackal” paparazzi at bay (already?)

the LAPD are arriving (already??)

but perhaps most interestingly,

real quick before we get into whose body it is, why we’re sexually objectifying it, and what it’s oozing, I just wanna draw your attention to the construction of that sentence. the artistry, if you will. below, I have replaced some of the nouns so that we may all appreciate the sheer poetry of the syntax:

“there’s a fucking meatball lying prone on the floor, all covered with cheese, a dark cloud oozing under the meatball.”

sitting a few feet away from the Skirt & Heels Body™ is Jasper, cradling the unconscious Bella. you could be forgiven for thinking that first body (you know, the oozing one) was Bella’s, because that’s what the narration wants you to think. the effect is somehow both enhanced and ruined by the fact that Bella’s actual body is mentioned in the next sentence. erika really tried to have her suspense cake and eat it too, with the result that by the time I finished reading this paragraph, I had absolutely no idea how many bodies there were or who they belonged to, which ones had on a skirt and heels, which ones were oozing, and where.

another excerpt I should probably share is the paragraph where we describe Edward reacting to this tragic pietà.

here’s our text, raw and unedited:

I can’t even begin to list all the ways this paragraph makes me uncomfortable, so I won’t attempt to.

anyway. remember how in the last chapter, there was an incredibly gay bit where Edward looked into Emmett’s dark, burning eyes? fasten your seatbelts because we’re about to blow that bit out of the water.

ｌｕｍｉｎｏｕｓｈａｚｅｌｅｙｅｓ

filled with

𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒

the next sentence tries to take us back into heterosexual territory with

are we meant to understand that Jasper’s luminous hazel eyes are saying “don’t you just wish it was you getting to cradle Bella’s unconscious, injured body?” yes, that is exactly what we’re meant to understand. this attitude continues as Bella is loaded into an ambulance. at first, Jasper tries to stop Edward from coming, then the paramedic says they can both come but only if they sit on opposite sides of the ambulance like kindergarteners in Time Out.

l o n g i n g l y

the paramedics also checked the other body (you know, the oozing skirt and heels body) and Edward made a startling observation:

though oozing, the mystery person is still alive, and a second ambulance hauls off

and here I was thinking all this story needed to make it complete was some veiled transphobia! what a fun new direction for erika.

once at the hospital, Ed is banished to the waiting room with Emmett, Jasper, and Taylor. the doctors won’t let him see Bella, even when he tells them he’s her fiancé.

hmm. is it just me or is there a movie about this exact scenario?

yep, there are at least two movies about this exact scenario.

after the “fiancé” thing, Edward picks up on some bad vibes from Jasper

interesting. can you feel MY animosity hit you like a brick fucking wall? I guess it’s more of a brick fucking skyscraper at this point.

things we learn at the hospital:

Bella was roofied! so if you voted “poisoned” in the poll, I’m gonna give you this one. congrats on your victory.

Bella is fine now

Jasper shot the mysterious kidnapper in the chest.

that’s right, Jasper is the cause of all the oozing. well done, Jasper. good luminous hazel eye.

finally, Bella wakes up and asks to see Edward. He goes back to see her

and

she

dumps his ass.

not for any Sane People reasons, of course. having decided she’s “too dangerous to be around,” she breaks up with him in a scene straight out of New Moon, complete with “eyes full of tortured pain” and dialogue like

“You are too precious to me. Please. Go.”

Edward spends the whole scene in panicked denial, to the point where he’s practically gaslighting Bella, telling her she’s just been through a traumatic ordeal and she can’t possibly mean what she’s saying.

then he interrupts her mid-breakup

to fucking propose.

🤣🤣🤣 READ THE ROOM, BUDDY. Bella is resolute for the first time in her doormat life, turns down the proposal, and firmly breaks things off with Edward. he returns her earring (you remember, the six thousand dollar earring we paused in the middle of the climactic chase scene to pick up), “inhales her fragrant hair for the last time,” and leaves.

and with that, the chapter is FINALLY over.

possibility.mp3

best “fucks”

“level fucking head”

“a fucking microsecond”

“fucking sirens”

“loud fucking noises”

“enough fucking damage”

“a soothing fucking balm”

“fucking Hale”

“fucking purgatory” (the hospital waiting room)

“pale as fuck” (bella)

“fucking lifeless” (bella)

“non-believing fucking arse” (edward)

“like a fucking idiot” (edward)

best “shits”

next chapter: fucking blinds and curtains

#spork haven #twilight fanfiction #twilight revival #anti e.l. james #long post //#transphobia //#drugs //#guns //#injury //#blood //

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alottanothing · 5 years

Text

Black Friday

Summary: After convincing Elliot to go out for an impromptu Thanksgiving, Darlene also manages to rope him into Black Friday shopping. Lots of Alderson Sibling bickering and fluff. I just want them to be happy damnit

Word Count: 8408

Warnings: Language

Pairing: None

Tag List: @ramimedley, @bohemian-napsodyy, @sherlollydramoine, @txmel

Author’s Note: This whole idea started when I went shopping myself and bought a TV during a Black Friday Sale and @xmxisxforxmaybe and I began thinking what it would be like going Black Friday shopping with Darlene and Elliot. So, here we are 8000+ words later. I really could not have done this without her motivating me and giving this a look over to make sure it was at the very least readable. She totally rocks. I hope you all enjoy this. I was apprehensive about writing Elliot, fingers crossed I did his character justice

The forecast that November day had proven to be ruthlessly dismal. A monsoon of sorts swept over the city; pelting the streets from morning to night. Precipitation descended from the heavens in icy sheets- sharp like pins- as it stung Elliot’s skin despite the ragged hoodie he wore. For the most part, the weather never led a crucial role when it came to his daily activities. Elliot was rather indifferent to it most days. The only time the weather proved truly beneficial to him was when he could use it as an excuse to stay inside. He was happiest barricaded in the idyllic solitude of his apartment, where the muffled sounds of the city, could lull his anxious nerves. Ergo, Elliot had not been planning to sulk through the current downpour, not even slightly. He would have much preferred to spend his night locked away and dry, seated at his terminal. There, he could focus all his energy on that ever-present itch in the back of his mind by finding a target and getting to work. He would have in fact, done exactly that- hacking and staying out of the gloom- but his sister had other ideas. Darlene was adamant that they go out for dinner. It was Thanksgiving after all.

Why her sudden interest in the holiday, Elliot was not entirely sure. And it was the intrigue therein that eventually saw him surrendering to her whim. It was not as though they had grown up celebrating with big family meals consisting of stuffing and turkey. No— they were lucky to end up with a bucket of KFC for Thanksgiving. Maybe it was nostalgia or a desire to feel a sense of normalcy that drove his sister to want to make the day somehow special. Whatever it was, Elliot doubted he would understand. What he did understand was that the Chinese restaurant she led him to, perfectly fit the mediocre holiday celebrating they were used to.

The glaring red and gold interior of the Lower Eastside restaurant was a stark contrast to the bleak black and grey of the streets outside. The warmth inside Elliot welcomes, gladly. It takes a moment of squinting before his vision grows accustomed to the alarmingly red walls. In mirroring motions, he and Darlene wipe their feet on the rug inside the door, before she takes the liberty of speaking with the hostess. Her voice carries through the empty restaurant with her usual spitfire timbre that bordered on the edge of flirty and cocky. The woman makes a mark with her pen in a notebook as she grabs two menus and asks them to follow her. Darlene responds with a sing-song "Thanks, doll,” and turns to venture deeper into the empty restaurant. Elliot saunters behind his sister, mechanically pulling out a chair at their table before slouching into it-- the wooden legs squeaking under his weight. A shiver shakes him as he peels his damp hoodie off of his shoulders and hangs it on the back of the chair to dry, carding his fingers through his mostly dry hair.

“So,” Darlene chimes, nose buried in her menu. “What is the most turkey-ish thing they serve, do ya think?”

Elliot shrugs, glancing at the flat, laminated menu sitting in front of him. “Chicken?”

“Mmm, probably,” Darlene jibes, flipping the laminate over, front to back, while making a clicking noise with her tongue.

When their food comes, it comes quickly in a swirl of steam and scents that draw a growl from Elliot’s stomach making him realize how hungry he was. The arrival of their food provokes a grin to both their faces. Elliot’s being much less toothy than his sisters, but with the same- reserved- flare and gratitude. As they eat, Darlene fills the silence of the eatery with stories from their childhood. Most of her words fall in a barrage of bitter soaked memories of their less than ideal Thanksgivings. Elliot only half listens, eyes fixated on his plate. His mind is far away, clawing at that hankering in the furthest part of his mind while he picks at his food with chopsticks.

Darlene exhales loud enough to coax him back to reality. “...I don’t think we had one good Thanksgiving growing up, at least not one that I remember.”

Elliot takes a moment to swim blindly through his clouded memories in search of something happy. There was so much of his youth veiled in shadow or obstructed completely, it's several moments before he uncovers a thought.

“The year before dad died,” Elliot says speaking more to his plate than to his sister, finding a somewhat cherished memory. “Angela’s parents, they invited us both over.“

“Shit, you’re right,“ she says as a slow smile unfurls on her face. “I do remember that. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much before in my life.” She chuckles before taking another bite of her dinner.

“Better than KFC.“ Elliot muses with a wistful pull to his lips, recalling the foggy memory.

The most normal I had ever felt. The thought drifts into his mind, dark and bereft like the rain clouds outside. Elliot’s slight simper succumbs to his sullen thought causing his lips to settle into a thin frown.

“Definitely,” Darlene agrees ruefully, the shift in her tone mirroring Elliot’s expression. Her eyes flit back to her pate, resting her cheek on her balled fist as she picked the peas from her rice. Her stories overrun, it seemed by the sudden air of melancholy.

The restless squall continues to pelt and ping against the window of the restaurant long after Elliot and Darlene finish their impromptu Thanksgiving feast. They linger while the rain persists, neither wanting to brave the downpour again so soon.

The Wi-Fi inside the Chinese restaurant is average at best, but Elliot is glad for it nonetheless. As he pulls his laptop from his worn backpack, a sense of contentment settles him. It was quiet in the restaurant. The only sounds coming from the kitchen: indistinct chatter of employees coupled with the clack of dishes. The steady patter of the rain added to the atmospheric hum. Elliot finds his focus in those repetitive noises. As his finger fan over the keys, he calms completely, eager to finally sate the itch in his mind.

“Hey,” Darlene’s voice sounds, muffled due to Elliot's intense focus.

His concentration remains on his work; his eyes darting back and forth with the letters and numbers he types on the screen. Elliot doesn't even register the piece of broken fortune cookie she tosses across the table at him.

“Heeey” she tries again with another piece of cookie, exaggerating the long ‘a’ sound.

Still, Elliot’s wide eyes remain wholly fixated on the screen in front of him— fingers working their lightning pace on the keys.

“Hey, asshole!” Darlene tries a third time, chucking the rest of the fortune cookie in a handful of crumbs to fall over him like confetti. His focus breaks the moment the flurry of crumbs tumbles down his face.

Elliot blinks across the table to Darlene; his focus extinguished like water to a flame. His startled expression shapes into a silent question as his brow creases into a deep line while his eyes gaze imploringly at his sister. She meets him with an impish grin that touches her eyes with a mischievous twinkle. The gesture alone settles uneasily in the pit of Elliot's stomach. He attempts to swallow the sudden lump in his throat, and his jaw grows tight.

“So I’ve got this crazy idea…” she says in a tone that drips with the same amount of mischief as the rest of her features. Elliot's jaw grew tighter, his heart starting to nervously thrum in his chest.

As she leans across the table, Elliot feels the familiar twinge of his fight or flight sense stab into him. He shifts in his seat warily. Rarely did Darlene’s crazy ideas contend well with the multitude of anxiety and paranoia Elliot felt at any given time.

Elliot waits instead of responding, letting his question crease further into his features.

“Two words,” She finally says with abundant mirth. “Black. Friday.”

Flight.

Immediately, Elliot's wide eyes dart towards the door. The sense of flight works through him with a tingling surge causing his heart to skip and his palms to sweat. However, instead of making an escape for the door, all Elliot manages is a look of unabashed horror. His hands fumble in search of his hoodie pockets, needing their security that moment, only to flounder and settle in his lap. Several minutes pass, the air suddenly thick with silence and Darlene’s simper shifts into a scowl as the delight fizzles out of her expression.

“W-why?” Elliot husks out, finally.

All at once his sense of flight vanishes, as though a switch in his mind had been set off. And with it, he was suddenly fight. A glare molds itself onto his features, one laden with disgust.

“It’s all capitalist bullshit.” his tone grows bolder the deeper the idea settles in his mind. "Corporate America— that’s who benefits from Black Friday. It’s a fucking joke, Darlene.”

Darlene’s scowl intensifies and her wide eyes narrow at him. Elliot squirms under her vehement leer. The fierceness of her expression combats his sense of fight and with a beaten sigh, he concedes somewhat.

“Who do you even have to shop for?” He asks, genuinely curious— it wasn’t like they bought each other holiday gifts.

“Me, bitch!” She tells him without hesitation.

I should have guessed. Elliot rolls his eyes, slouching deeper into his chair. He shifts again, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to allay the anxiety Darlene’s suggestion brought on.

“It’s 10:30.” He stresses, with a glance at the digital numbers on his still-open computer screen.

It is a futile attempt to thwart her idea— he knows. But his sense of fight was still tingling through him, begging to be heard no matter how meek his argument was.

Darlene's glower falters only long enough to throw him an 'are you an idiot' look.

“Um yeah, the stores are open all night, dipshit.”

“No, Darlene,” Elliot scolds, that sense of fight still very much coursing through him.

“Look, Mr. Grinch.” She states in her no-nonsense way, leaning across the table as though she was about to interrogate him. “Either go shopping with me, right now so I can find shit for my own apartment. Or, I sleep on your couch forever.”

A brow hoists high on her forehead in challenge as she watches him.

Elliot holds her gaze until the fight fizzles out of him. His head rolls back as a long, exasperated sigh parts his lips. Leave it to Darlene to offer an ultimatum so tempting.

Having his sister as a roommate had proven challenging in the beginning. Eventually, though, he'd gotten used to the routine her presences called for. Darlene was loud in comparison to Flipper and Qwerty, but he didn't hesitate when she'd asked to bunk with him. He did miss the solitude, however. Elliot wanted his apartment back, and his sister knew it.

“Fine,” he surrenders, his defeat tasting sour on his tongue as it falls from his mouth in a haggard sigh.

In an instant, Darlene beams at him, eyes sparkling in the light of the neon 'OPEN' sign in the window. To a degree, her expression eases some of his apprehension, but he still wanted to go home. He stands to pack his laptop, trying to deter the sense of flight returning to him. With an unceremonious series of movements, he shrugs into his still somewhat damp hoodie, situating the hood over his head and buries his hands in the pockets. Darlene does the same, with a more avid flair having won. She gracefully cloaks herself with her winter coat, the faux fur of the bushy collar and sleeves swaying with each of her fluid movements. Elliot watches, idly wondering what it must be like to harbor such carefree whim.

“Let’s rock and roll,” she sings in a confident bravado that compliments her smile as she takes the lead with a buoyant march.

Elliot sucks in a deep breath and lets it out unnaturally slow to calm himself before trudging after his sister.

***

The first of the two trains it takes to get to uptown Manhattan was the quietest. Most of the passengers spent the ride busying themselves with their phones, which Elliot silently thanked them for. The second train was worse.

Train number two was the closest to holiday shopping ground zero, and riddled with numerous obscurities. People from every walk of like frequented the subways; ranging from obscenely normal to often blatantly strange. At present, the inordinately bizarre passengers made up most of the train. For each normal passenger, there was a counterpart at the other end of the spectrum. One man sat in a drunken stupor, sprawled over much of the seat dressed as a Christmas elf. Every minute or so he sipped from a not so well hidden tin flask while trying to muffle his bout of hiccups. Another man with an ill look about him wore a turkey costume that reeked heavily of body odor. To the farthest end of the car, a man wearing Santa shorts with a crocheted Santa hat skillfully moonwalked on roller skates, shopping bags in hand.

Elliot gages them all warily as he stands at the threshold until Darlene scopes out a spot far away from the other passengers. Especially the drunk, smelly ones.

“All the decent apartments have outrageous rent,” Darlene whines, her tone filling with irritation.

She had spent most of the first train scrolling on her phone on a realtor app, diligently searching for an affordable apartment to no avail.

Elliot sits beside her with his hood up, hands buried in his pockets. With his hoodie on, some of his nerves settled. Still, he did his best to keep his focus on only his sister and not the obscure passengers surrounding them.

“I’m gonna end up in some shithole like you,” She chides a little louder as her frustration roots deeper. With heedless swipes of her thumb, Darlene scrolls on her phone, and her lips press into a firm line.

“Better your own shithole than my couch.” Elliot mumbles.

Judging by the immediate elbow she jabs into his ribs and the loud “Jackass!” thrown into the open his thought had fallen from his lips instead of staying in his head. Shit.

“Black Friday shopping? Really?”

Elliot blinks hearing the familiar voice of his ever-present shadow self and looks to find Mr. Robot in the seat across from him- eyes glued to newspaper shopping adds.

“Doesn’t this go against everything we believe in?” Robot asks, wadding up the paper and artlessly tosses it aside. “As if the corporate greed of it all wasn’t enough— the greed of the people, that’s where the real threat lies. Grown ass adults fighting over the last iPhone or 65” TV like it’s the Middle Ages and blood sport is all the rage again.” Robot shakes his head in disbelief, either from his own comment or the fact it was actually happening, Elliot can't tell.

Elliot exhales and meets Robot’s eyes. “I know this isn’t our thing—“

“You can say that again, kiddo.”

Elliot’s jaw clenches, irritation flooding his features hearing the snark in his alters voice. “But, if this is the first step to getting our apartment back, then I’m willing to take it.”

“Can you take it, though?” Robot asks, his tone quickly shifting into one less condescending. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knee, his eyes earnest. “I wasn’t kidding— this is gonna be akin to gladiatorial combat for you. I can almost guarantee bloodshed.”

Elliot shrugs, “that’s what I’ve got you for, right?”

Varying degrees of concern drift over his face before finally, Robot sighs as he hangs his head with a slight shake

“Yes,” he breathes out in a huff. “That’s why you have me.”

A silence passes between them, and the ghost of a simper works onto Elliot’s face, thinking.

“Besides,” he adds. “My money is on Darlene if it comes to actual bloodshed.”

Robot peers through the lenses of his glasses, casting a look in Darlene’s direction. A single brow arches and he nods his agreement. Mr. Robot doesn't press him any further, sensing something akin to determination pulsing through his host self.

The rest of the train ride progresses appallingly slow— every moment pulsing like the ache behind a bruise. Several times the notion of escaping through the sliding doors at the next stop drifts through Elliot’s mind. Leaving him to wonder whether he harnessed the skill and agility to run back to his apartment before Darlene could catch him. Something, however, keeps him seated beside her while she drones on about apartments and their ridiculous pricing. In his mind an array of red flags scream at him, and yet, he stays.

When Elliot and Darlene emerge from the subway station, snow greets them instead of rain. Both of them stand a moment at the mouth of the stairwell into the bleak station below, eyes to the sky as the flurries drift peacefully onto them. A smile works onto Darlene’s face as she sticks her tongue out to try and catch a taste, a sight that manages to press a single-sided smirk onto Elliot’s cheek. The air was still; peculiar for the usually busy Manhattan streets. White blanks the sidewalks, the crisp November night frozen enough to keep the flakes from melting away. Darlene spins with childlike wonder, a giggle sounding into the air with a visible puff of breath, before hooking her arm through Elliot’s. She presses close to him and the added warmth he provides, merging them into the flow of foot traffic. Their practiced strides fall easily in line with the rest of the brave souls weathering the snow and the holiday shoppers. All the bustle doesn't arouse any anxiety. With Darlene anchored to his side, coupled with the snowfall, a fissure of calm works through Elliot prompting his crooked smirk to morph into a smile.

It was a welcome feeling— serenity. And not one Elliot was precisely used to. On the chance it found him, he did his best to hold on to it for as long as his turbulent mind could manage. A reprieve from the itch he could never really scratch. For that moment, he refuses to dwell on the fact Darlene was marching him into battle. The weight and the unspoken admiration of having her with him was enough to silence the paranoia and the anxiety— his loneliness drifting away on the winter air spiraling with snow around them. Tenacity fuels his steps, made even more tranquil by the sound of snow crunching beneath his soles. He relishes in his relaxing muscles, calming mind, and the sights of the decorated storefronts they pass. Garlands and twinkling lights add magic to their snowy journey. Making Thanksgiving seem like an unimportant blip on the holiday radar.

As was the usual; Elliot’s glinting spark of serenity dies out even quicker than it comes. The moment Darlene surrenders her comforting grasp on his arm the onslaught begins. All he can do is stare as his sister is swallowed by the crowd pushing and shoving into the doors of a Manhattan shopping center. The abhorrent sight causes Elliot’s feet to stop, leaving him a frozen, anxious mess in the snow.

In a blink, Robot is there beside him offering his usual odd sense of solidarity. The two exchange a glance— Robot exhaling a deep breath with a shrug, as though he too needs to work up to the hell they are all three about to endure. Although, his apprehension seemed to stem from annoyance instead of the dread Elliot feels.

Elliot blindly pushes himself through the horde, tucking his arms and focusing his eyes on the tips of his shoes. A steady momentum was the key to surviving that battle, and he pushes forward diligently. He does all he can to make himself as small as possible in a futile attempt to slide through the crowd without making contact. It is only a few seconds, yet the anxiety of it all has Elliot’s heart thrumming in his chest. There is sweat on his brow, by the end of it all and every breath leaving his lips fell in a haggard puff. He sighs the moment he breaches the other side of the crowd, the anxiety waning the second he was free. A sense of accomplishment washes over him and his wilted form blooms finding ample space between the sea of people and the glass doors of the mall. Small victories. Its the feel of Darlene's eyes, sizing him up that brings him from his high somewhat. He meets her look imploringly and she responds with an eye roll and a shake of her head.

“Come ooooonnn!” She hisses, turning on her heel with the grace of a practiced dancer, thrusting open the building’s door with the usual amount of fanfare Darlene’s demeanor called for.

Elliot didn’t bother removing his hood, nor do his hands stray from the safety of his pockets. The heat in the shopping complex meaning little to him. His hoodie would keep him feeling secure if nothing else. He would sooner sweat to death rather than taking it off. It was something he could weave around himself when he felt like he was about to unravel completely. It was his tether to mental stability, and he needed it now more than ever.

“Aw…fuck” his exasperation falls from his mouth louder than he wants, invoking sour looks from the people passing him— not that he cares or pays them much heed.

“This was a bad idea.” Mr. Robot concurs with the same gravity in his tone that was pulling sickly at Elliot’s stomach.

Times Square was a vast wasteland compared to the droves of people inside the mall. All manner of noises from jolly Christmas music to screaming children echoed alarmingly in the hot air. It was as though the whole of New York had sardined itself inside the complex, creating a dizzying helix of sensory overload that for Elliot was the epitome of a nightmare.

“Yup,” Elliot answers his alter self-aloud.

Both of them linger in a stupor as the droves of people outside clamor through the set of doors behind him, pushing and bumping his shoulders to hastily join the chaos. The shock doesn’t have time to fade before Darlene breaks through the crowd, backtracking to snatch up her stunned brother.

“Elliot, I swear— come on!” Her long fingers bunch the excess fabric of his sleeve as she yanks him into the mass of people.

***

For possibly the twelfth time, Elliot peeks at his phone to see how much longer he was going to have to endure the trenches of Black Friday.

Two hours! A growl works through him. How could we have only been shopping for two fucking hours?

It felt as though he'd been trapped in the capitalist hellscape for days. Yet, in reality, they’d been to one store in two hours. One. Fucking. Store.

Darlene was on her fourth trip to the fitting room, lugging an obscene amount of clothes with her. It took Elliot the length of her first two visits to the changing room before he rooted himself to the relative seclusion of a bench located outside of the women’s fitting room.

Elliot sat with his hooded head against the stark white wall, eyes laying their focus to the metal beams and canister lights overhead. The number of people in the narrow store would have been off-putting to anyone. They were loud, much to his distaste, but for the most part, each of them left him alone. The worst of it all was the overly chipper Christmas music, which added to his impatience.

“How the fuck does this count as shopping for stuff for a new place?” Elliot chides loud enough for his sister to hear in her stall and over the clamor of the store. His patience finally wearing thin.

“Get off my dick!” Darlene snaps much louder than necessary. “Eighty percent of my shit is from Goodwill.”

Elliot rolls his eyes sinking a little lower on the bench. Darlene may have shared his ideology about injustice in the capitalist regime, but it didn’t seem to hinder her desire to play into it.

1:24 a.m.

Elliot sneers as he reads the time. Two and a half hours. He drums his head against the wall, his impatience and anxiety mixing dangerously inside him.

“Besides,” She starts.

The proximity of Darlene’s voice draws Elliot’s attention as she breezes past him, a pile of clothes in her arms. He stands quickly, hoping she is finally done and ready to move on.

“I can’t afford anything unless it’s on sale anyway— hold these,” She shoves several garments against his chest and he instinctively hugs them against himself. “I need a different size in this.” She holds up a vintage looking bomber jacket, as her eyes scan the surrounding racks for where she had found it.

When she moves, Elliot snakes behind her, following as she weaves in and out of the clothing racks until she finds one with many similar looking jackets. He forces his focus inward, feeling severely vulnerable in the open aisle. He knew his mind would find more peace zoned out than actively bearing witness to the shoppers.

“…No actually, Karen, I saw it first.” Darlene argues with her hand on the hanger of a perfectly sized jacket.

“My name isn’t Karen,” the woman with the highlights and the bobbed hair cut recants, obviously offended.

“Like I give a shit,” Darlene quips, “if you think your big ass shoulders are gonna fit in a small— keep dreaming. There are plenty of mediums and larges.”

For all the good it did him, Elliot finds it increasingly difficult to stay out of focus with his sister in a heated argument; over a fucking jacket no less. The usual flirtatious spirit in her tone becomes one of pompous snark which seemed to be escalating the woman's ire. He watches the entire altercation with a scowl and a look of bafflement.

“So, are you gonna handle this one or should I?” Mr. Robot asks popping in rather timely. His sudden presence eases Elliot's inner turmoil to a degree but every passing glance he risks towards his sister combats any and all repose. A matching look of exasperation weighs oh his alters brow as Darlene upheld the notion she deserved the smaller sized jacket.

“No, I got it.” Elliot husks out after several moments, suddenly aware of the eyes watching them, not sounding too sure.

Robot lingers a step behind him, protectively, while gathering himself to his full height-- ready to tap in and fight if the situation escalates. Neither Darlene nor the other woman notice Elliot when he approaches and he wonders if the sound of his rapid heart would gain their attention.

“Darlene.” He tries gently not yet having worked up enough gall to match the degree of their dispute.

No response.

The pair continue their bickering with a plethora of insults that are every bit crass as they were creative.

“Darlene,” Elliot tries again, a little more gusto in his tone.

Darlene and her adversary throw him a quick scowl, disinterested in his incite, before going back to hashing out insults.

Elliot casts a look to Robot, who offers a more or less “ready when you need me” expression throwing his hands up in a dramatic shrug. While the easy way was tempting - using Mr. Robot to settle things once and for all- that sense of fight was building within him. It stirs a fresh feeling of determination that helps urge him to handle Darlene himself. With a deep breath, he musters as much of his nerve as he can— stowing away some on reserve knowing this was sure to happen again before the night is over.

“Darlene!” He shouts loud enough causing a few of the other shoppers to jump.

“What!”

Fucking finally. He and Robot share in collective thought.

Darlene turns to toss him a sour look; jaw tight with fire in her blue eyes. Elliot’s steam fades quickly and his eyes fall to the jacket before meeting hers again, with an expression that he hopes conveys just how ridiculous she was being.

Darlene moves her eyes between the jacket and Elliot twice until her mind works out what he was trying to transmit with only his dismayed features.

“Can we just pay for this shit and move on, please?” Elliot begs, in a gruff mumble. He gestures with a glance at the myriad bunch of garments in his arms.

Some of the fury dims in her eyes hearing the desperation in his tone. It takes only a moment more for her frustration to recede, reading the look on Elliot’s face, and she forfeits the jacket without another thought.

“Guess it’s your lucky day, sweetheart,” Darlene sings irritably to the woman before turning and yanking Elliot by the sleeve of his hoodie again.

***

2:05 a.m.

The numbers on Elliot's phone mock him, drawing his pursed lips into a deeper frown.

“You better quit looking, kiddo.” Mr. Robot advises while idly skimming through the clothing racks near where they stand. “Time is only gonna keep tickin’ and you can’t stop it.”

“I know,” Elliot bites out crossly, as his eyes desperately scan the surrounding shoppers in search of his sister. “Where the fuck did Darlene go?”

They’d been in their second store for all of fifteen seconds before Darlene had vanished in the sea of shoppers, leaving Elliot to brave the crowd on his own— sorta. A perfunctory glance from the corner of his eye reminds Elliot he was never really alone, which was both soothing and off-putting.

Robot looks up from the clothing rack, craning his neck in only mild interest then he shrugs. “She’ll be fine. God knows she can take care of herself in this shit storm of holiday madness.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Elliot presses, relentlessly scanning the crowd “My money is on her, remember?”

Their current shop was more akin to a department store. It alone was immense with polished floors, and a set of escalators leading to a second level. The grandeur of the store offered much larger aisles, yet it still managed to lean on the edge of too crowded. For Elliot at least. Trying to find Darlene in that vast array of people and departments was going to require more extensive legwork than he was in the mood to do given the amount of anxiety vibrating through him. His hands only left his pockets to check the time on his phone, before they are shoved back into place where he can press himself together to deter a meltdown.

“You do realize just standing her makes us look suspicious, right?” Robot says, having lost interest in the rack of half-priced men’s sweaters. “The backpack, the hood— that’s textbook shoplifter. Throw on some shades and a mustache and you could be the next Unabomber.”

“I don’t care,” Elliot argues, even though he agrees. “We’re close to the front of the store— she’s eventually gonna come back this way.”

Mr. Robot rocks on his heels, tucking his hands in the pocket of his blue jeans, disinterest returning to his features.

Without warning, someone yanks off Elliot's hood, thrusting something down over his eyes. Panic surges through him like a strike of lightning, heart pounding as flight suddenly kicks in.

“Hey! What the f—“ Elliot yelps, but the panic dissolves when he snatches the knit cap off his head, Darlene swinging into view with a grin.

“I found us matching beanies!” She chuckles, pointing out the hat on her head.

Both caps were made with a typical Christmas pattern in red and white hues— akin to what one would find on a holiday sweater. At the crown of each was a large pompom of matching threads, while the folded brim was embellished in flashy gold lettering. Darlene’s read: Merry Christmas ya filthy animal. While the one she’d attacked him with read: And Happy New Year.

A crooked grin ghosts over his lips recalling the Home Alone 2 reference fondly.

“Don’t buy me things,” he scolds gently, tucking the hat in his hoodie pocket for safekeeping, returning his hood to its natural position.

“Thanks, Darlene. You’re such a good sister, Darlene.” She mocks jabbing him in the ribs again. “But all I get is a lecture? Jackass.”

Elliot exhales listlessly. “Thank you,” he offers in his usual monotone.

“Pft. Whatever. Turn around and let me put this shit in your backpack— I don’t wanna carry it and mine’s full.” She instructs motioning to the bags in her hand.

Elliot does as she asks— realizing playing along and asking no questions was his best strategy to reach the end of their shopping extravaganza sooner rather than later.

“So,” Darlene starts while situating her purchased items in Elliot’s bag, mindful of his computer. “I heard this guy in line tell his wife that one of the stores in here is selling those fancy coffee machines that you just buy the little cups for— like 75% off.”

Well, at least that was something to go into an apartment.

Before Elliot can even ask which store they need to go to in order to find that “deal,” a customer starts shouting at them.

“Miss? Are you shoplifting that stuff you just put in his pack?”

Both Darlene and Elliot cast her the same shocked and offended wide-eyed expression. In whatever part of his mind Robot was dwelling, Elliot knew he was laughing.

“Hey?” The woman presses on, attempting to flag down a store employee with wild flailing arms. “Hey! This girl and her boyfriend are stealing things!”

“She’s not my—“ Elliot’s voice cracks when his words rush out in an attempt to correct the woman. But, Darlene’s claws are drawn and ready, beating him to it.

“He’s my brother, asshole. And I’m not stealing!” Darlene tugs on Elliot’s backpack, causing him to stumble sideways as she draws him the several paces it takes to meet their accuser.

With the same force, she unzips the pack and digs around until she finds the long strip of receipt paper from her purchases.

“SEE!” She shoves the ribbon of paper in the woman’s face. “Back off me, bitch before I make you eat—“

Mr. Robot and Elliot exchange another baffled stare before focusing on Darlene.

“You want me to get this one?” Robot asks.

Elliot shakes his head, jaw clenching growing more annoyed the longer he watches his sister. Is it going to be like this in every store?

He takes a moment to shore up his nerve; tapping into what he’d stored away earlier feeling that wave of determination spread through him. This time Elliot forgoes attempting to gather his sister’s attention. Instead, he rides that fit of courage, wrapping his arms around her waist and uses all his strength to pick her up.

“What the— Elliot put me down!” Darlene growls as she squirms to free herself.

“Nope.” He grumbles, struggling to keep his forward momentum steady with his sister flailing in his arms. “We’re gonna go find you that fucking coffee machine. Right now.”

***

The quest to acquire a “fancy-ass coffee machine” was the easiest bit of shopping they had done all night. After their accusatory run in at their last store, Elliot hoped this one would be smoother. The homewares department was well stocked, with wide forgiving aisles, and marked with clearly designated lines for each appliance. No other store was as organized; Elliot couldn’t help but commend whoever’s idea it had been. Even the employees were beyond helpful— to the point they almost seem afraid of the customers.

Perhaps the most astounding thing was how well Darlene behaved while standing in line to retrieve her new coffee machine. Granted she talked shit about the other shoppers who’d thus far wormed their way under her skin, but Elliot could drown that out easier than when she was yelling and on the verge of throwing punches. He even returns her smile to a degree when she excitedly asks the store employee for the machine she wanted—thanking the man with a giddy hop as he hands over the box.

With the coffee machine hugged to her chest, Darlene cuts through the crowd, with Elliot close on her tail. He treads with his hands anchored in his pockets, limbs pressed tight against himself doing his best to weave through the horde without touching anyone who passes.

“Go wait over there,” Darlene instructs nodding pointedly to a part of the store relatively clear of people. “I’ll get in line and pay for this.”

Elliot’s eyes peek from around his hood to where she had suggested he wait for her. While that blessedly clear part of the busy store does beckon him like a sirens call, something told him Darlene would need wrangling again before she was through the never-ending checkout line.

“Go,” she urges, pointing again with a nod. “I’ll behave.” She adds when he continues to linger beside her.

A sarcastic chuckle parts his lips, as a skeptical expression twists onto his features. Nevertheless, he saunters over to the empty part of the store Darlene picked out for him not missing the hushed “dick” she calls him as he walks away.

Elliot positions himself within eyesight of his sister, relishing in the fresh solitude. The line was long, and he idly wonders which one of the many patrons Darlene was going to pick a fight with next.

3:40 a.m.

A ragged breath parts his lips, reading the numbers on his phone screen, stealing away some of the joy he’d found in his new private corner of the store. The later it got, the slower time seemed to push on. At the rate things were going, he was never going to get the chance to scratch that part of his mind that ceaselessly itched.

“Maybe this should be our last stop.” Mr. Robot’s voice sounds in a tone that was brimming with concern. “I’m not sure you can handle—“

“I’m fine,” Elliot mumbles, his eyes never straying from his sister. “This means a lot to Darlene— I’ve been a shity brother, this is the least I can do.”

“I’m in your head, kiddo. I can feel everything you're feeling. This hasn’t exactly been a spring picnic for us.”

“I’m. Fine.” Elliot forces out although he isn’t sure if it is for the benefit of himself or Mr. Robot. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Robot was right. Not only were the batteries of Elliot’s phone dangerously low, so were his own. He wasn't tired— insomnia was an absolute bitch like that. But the batteries he used out in public where he tried so hard to be normal— those batteries were veering quickly into a single-digit percentage. He longed to be at his terminal— scratching the itch in his rampant mind. Where he wasn't expected to speak or smile, where he could thrive and recharge in relative solitude.

“Jesus, here we go…” Mr. Robot exhales suddenly, looking off in the direction of the checkout line.

Elliot blinks back to reality and follows his imaginary friend’s gaze.

“Aw, fuck.” Elliot sighs, his head rolling back on his shoulders.

This time, from what he can see and hear, Darlene’s vexation stemmed from a man displeased with an employee. She was valiantly giving the man a piece of her mind, throwing in colorful insults- as usual- and defending the employee with all she had.

“This is at least admirable,” Robot notes, crossing his arms.

Elliot nods his agreement but feels his anxiety weighing him down. His reserves for handling disputes were dry.

“Can you—?“ he asks meekly.

Mr. Robot pats him on the back reassuringly. “I got you, kiddo.”

Elliot throws himself on the back burner, allowing Mr. Robot the reins, while he tries to recharge for the time being. In all seriousness, Robot was better suited for the situation at hand— he could be just as garish and hot-headed as Darlene. The two of them could easily thwart any crowd or displeased customers with a snide comment and a middle finger. Elliot could barely order a coffee without giving himself a bit of a pep talk first. It hardly seemed fair.

“What’s the issue here,” Robot asks the man who Darlene was currently in the ring with.

“Well for starters, these employees are too lazy to bring me these in a different size,” the man motions to the khaki pants in his hands as he speaks- bile dripping from every word. “I don't want to do it myself then have to wait in this line again!” His fiery eyes move back to Darlene. “And then this bitch had the nerve to tell me I am the one who’s being lazy— it’s these idiots who won’t do their job!”

“What did you call me!?” Darlene sneers. Mr. Robot quickly sticks his arm out to restrain her as she lunges at the man.

“Cool it.” He urges sternly, before turning back to the angry customer.

“No! He’s the one who's a lazy asshole!” Darlene yells before Robot can form another word. “The employees— they are tired. It’s almost 4 in the morning and they are working so you and me and all these other greedy people can buy new khakis and quarter priced coffee machines. The least you could do to show them some appreciation for working this horrible night shift is going to find the right size of your boring tan pants yourself, you arrogant prick!”

Darlene shoves past Mr. Robot, continuing to tear down the man who’d foolishly picked her as a sparring partner.

Elliot and Robot watch, sharing multiple “This is ridiculous,” glances as the two continue to argue.

Darlene’s spat grows louder by the minute, drawing a crowd of both shoppers and employees—most of whom seemed to be agreeing with Darlene.

“Dude,”

The sudden unfamiliar voice and proximity causes Elliot to jump, finding an employee staring at Darlene with hearts in his eyes.

“Your girlfriend is a badass.”

His gaze passes between his sister and the man standing beside him. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s my sister,” Elliot tells him with a disgruntled huff.

The man’s mouth pops open in awe and the look in his eyes intensifies.

“Really?” He pauses long enough for his smile to stretch across the entirety of his face. “Is she single?”

The employee’s comment takes a moment to register until Elliot and Robot both issue the man a soured look and no other reply.

Before her altercation turns into outright war, Elliot tosses Mr. Robot another pleading look with the hopes his other self can settle things with Darlene. Mr. Robot dives back in without hesitation.

“Look, it’s late and I think it's safe to say everyone is a little anxious—“ Robot begins, placing himself between Darlene and the angry man.

“Buzz off, Elliot,” she pushes him out of the way. “I can handle this fucking asshole myself.”

“Oh, I don’t dispute that, sweetheart. But you’re sorta holding up the line arguing with Khakis here. “ Mr. Robot gestures to the angry customer.

A fraction of her rage fades, and her eyes narrow in his direction. She leers at him—her way of silently asking why Elliot was gone.

Mr. Robot lets his confident air fall slightly, meeting Darlene’s gaze, not wanting to start a dispute with her, too.

“He’s fine. This was getting a little much for him so he tagged me in.” He speaks vaguely enough to confuse anyone who hears his whispered assurances.

“I’m here,” Elliot says softly, surfacing long enough to put his sister at ease.

Darlene's air of distrust dwindles the moment she detects her brother poking out from behind the veil of Mr. Robot.

“See,” Robot says to Darlene. “Now, can we move this along, please? Before chucklehead here asks the employees to bring him a venti peppermint mocha while they’re fetching his pants.”

Elliot and Mr. Robot both notice the sudden look of alarm on Darlene’s face, but, they don’t notice it fast enough to duck as she does. As it turns out, Khaki man must have been a boxer, because, with one swing, the insomnia no longer matters— Elliot and Robot are out for the count.

***

The food court was arguably the last place to find peace amongst the chaos. The acoustics there were profoundly worse, causing even the quietest whisper to reverberate off the walls creating an annoying thrum that did not pair well with headaches. Yet, somehow, Elliot found himself amidst the disorganized roaring with no one to blame but himself.

The corner table was far away from the teaming shoppers, which helped hinder some of the madness to a degree. Elliot was going to have to remember to thank her for knowing that was the best place to leave him.

He and Mr. Robot sat alone in the lively food court doing their best not to focus on the bustling people swarming like bees around them. While it had been Robot who’d taken the brunt of Khaki man’s deft swing, it was Elliot who was currently feeling the after-effects of the right hook. He didn't remember much about how he'd wound up in the loudest part of the shopping mall. The trip was beginning to come back to him in increments as he sat. Mostly he recalled dizzy memories of Darlene meandering the sea of tables while supporting his weight. She’d stuck around waiting to make sure his consciousness came back to him fully, before leaving him with the promise she would be right back.

Both his head and his jaw pulsed and ached— his lip busted and bleeding. Mr. Robot was right, blood had been shed.

“This could have gone better,” Mr. Robot notes, gaging the state his host self was in.

“It could have gone worse,” Elliot disagrees, his words slurring slightly as he holds the sleeve of his hoodie to his cut lip to try and stop the bleeding.

Robot’s brow furrows, knitting together tightly in doubt. “Oh yeah?”

Elliot nods and shifts uncomfortably in the plastic chair, his tongue fussing over the cut on his lip to taste whether it was still bleeding. “We only got kicked out of one store, Darlene didn’t hit anyone, and none of us got arrested.”

Mr. Robot drums his fingers on the table, nodding in agreement, but his brow remains creased with slight skepticism. “The night is young, kiddo.”

No, It really isn’t. Elliot thinks, knowing the time had to be well past 4 a.m. “I know Darlene. She’ll wanna go home now.”

By the look on Mr. Robot’s face, he didn’t seem convinced, Elliot, however, was certain. Their night had been riddled with ignorant people, scuffles, and false accusations. Even Darlene had to have had enough of the Black Friday fun for the night. She may have been better suited to handle crowds and people, but she and Elliot both shared a short fuse when it came to dealing with them.

“Here,” Darlene’s voice sounds as she slumps into the empty chair adjacent to where he sits. “Your lip is swollen,” she notes pressing an iced coffee drink to the busted lip.

It takes him a moment to realize what exactly it is she’d shoved unceremoniously against his face-- a flurry of expressions contorting his features until they land on one of annoyance and query.

“You couldn’t have asked for a bag of ice?” He quips, his words obscured somewhat by the cup on his face.

Darlene shrugs and leans to sip from the long straw. “I was thirsty.”

Elliot rolls his eyes, taking the cup from Darlene as he positions it against his mouth in such a way, Darlene could easily still drink.

Even with the noise and the masses of people around him, that sense of calm swept over Elliot again with his sister so attentive and there for him. They had never been the type of people to come right out with words of sentiment. For them, actions did speak louder than words.

“Sorry about your coffee machine,” Elliot says sincerely, heartened by sharing her peaceful company.

The fight with Khaki Man had resulted in all three of them being escorted out of the store without the prize of their wanted purchases.

With the swelling down, Elliot hands his sister the cup. Darlene tips it, stirring what remained in the mostly empty cup, scooping out the whipped topping as best she could with the straw.

“It’s cool,” she assures him in a devil-may-care sort of way. “While you were passed the fuck out, that employee who thought you were my boyfriend told me he would hold one for me if I went to dinner with him next Friday.”

Elliot’s face quirks into an amused and somewhat intrigued smirk. “Are you gonna go?”

“Duh,” Darlene chuckles. “I want that damned coffee machine!”

Elliot’s simper presses a little firmer into his cheek. This was a successful trip after all.

Even with the yelling and flying fists, Darlene had gotten what she’d wanted, Mr. Robot came to bat exactly when he was needed (like he was supposed to), and Elliot’s heart felt a little lighter seeing the joy on his sister’s face.

“Let’s blow this joint,” Darlene decides after successfully scooping all the leftover whipped cream out of the cup. “We can torrent Home Alone or something.”

When he stands, Darlene quickly pulls him into a hug as a thank you.

“Yeah?” she asks, resting her chin on his shoulder. She holds him close waiting for his arms to weave around her as they always did.

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing her just as tight.

When they break away, both of them wear a smile. She giggles and beams when he removes his new hat from his pocket and puts it on. As she twirls to leave, she hooks her arm with his, holding him close.

“Come on, boyfriend!” she sings merrily, making for the exit beyond the crowd, and Elliot can’t help but to actually laugh.

#Elliot Alderson #Darlene Alderson #Elliot and Darlene #Mr. Robot #Mr. Robot Fanfiction #Rami Malek #Carly Chaikin #Christian Slater

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